![[Verified by Twister]](./images/checkmark.png "[Verified by Twister]")
NOVEN
V E X E D & V I C I O U S
V E X E D & V I C I O U S
I N F O
Noven's appearance is, in a word, compact. There is nothing about it that is frivolous or in excess. His body is sturdy, well-built, and corded with lean muscle, though often sporting a few bruises or scars as well from his constant need to drive back the pain. Caustic, rust-colored eyes stare out from a perpetually brooding brow--courtesy of frequent, vexing headeaches--and shapely lips show potential for charming smiles and easy laughter, if such things were not almost solely limited to periods of respite from his daily agony.
Only vaguely conscious of his self grooming in the midst of a merciless and chaotic lifestyle, Noven's skin is often a mix of tanned and grimy. A thin scar--the result of a failed attempt to last three days without inflicting pain--marks his right cheek. His hair is the color of damp earth, combed only when it gets in the way of his eyes and rarely with anything other than his fingers. He prefers to wear dark, fitted clothing that allows for greater mobility and a pair of gloves to hide the crimson veins on his left hand. On a good day, his handsome features are given a chance to attract more pleasant attention. On a bad one, people tend to skirt around him with averted gazes, frightened of the fierce glare in his eyes whenever the pain once again becomes too much to bear.
Overall, the man cuts an intimidating figure. Especially when he is standing victorious in Tall Johnny's infamous casino arena, the bloody pulp of his former competitor writhing at his feet, piercing screams of agony falling on deaf ears.
H O U S I N G
Location:
(Winter 515AV)
On a ship sailing for Alvadas, then traveling by land to Lhavit. No stable residence yet, poor living standards.
(Spring 515 AV)
Zeltiva
Room at the World's End Grotto
Living Expense: Common, 135 GM/s
Sunberth
(Pre-515 AV)
Permanent residence (1 basic 20x20 single room cottage, 400 sq feet, with a hearth, bunk, chest, chair, and small table) at Sunset Quarters
Living Expense: Poor, 45 GM/s
P O S S E S I O N S
A crock pot that once belonged to Nona. It is Noven's most treasured possession and he takes obsessively good care of it. Usually, it is kept in his spartan little apartment, tucked safely in a low cupboard. Touch it without permission, and you die.
L E D G E R
BASICS
Name:Noh-vin
Race: Human, Mixed
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Height & Weight: 5'11", 160 lbs
Birthday: 488 AV
Birthplace: Unknown
Fluent Language: Common
Current Occupation: Merc, in transit to Lhavit
Past Occupations: Caretaker at The Farson Home for Orphans (Zeltiva)
Cook by day, mercenary by night, frequent participant of blood sports (Sunberth)
Race: Human, Mixed
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Height & Weight: 5'11", 160 lbs
Birthday: 488 AV
Birthplace: Unknown
Fluent Language: Common
Current Occupation: Merc, in transit to Lhavit
Past Occupations: Caretaker at The Farson Home for Orphans (Zeltiva)
Cook by day, mercenary by night, frequent participant of blood sports (Sunberth)
APPEARANCE
Update :
Only vaguely conscious of his self grooming in the midst of a merciless and chaotic lifestyle, Noven's skin is often a mix of tanned and grimy. A thin scar--the result of a failed attempt to last three days without inflicting pain--marks his right cheek. His hair is the color of damp earth, combed only when it gets in the way of his eyes and rarely with anything other than his fingers. He prefers to wear dark, fitted clothing that allows for greater mobility and a pair of gloves to hide the crimson veins on his left hand. On a good day, his handsome features are given a chance to attract more pleasant attention. On a bad one, people tend to skirt around him with averted gazes, frightened of the fierce glare in his eyes whenever the pain once again becomes too much to bear.
Overall, the man cuts an intimidating figure. Especially when he is standing victorious in Tall Johnny's infamous casino arena, the bloody pulp of his former competitor writhing at his feet, piercing screams of agony falling on deaf ears.
Scars of import :
PERSONALITY
Not fond of small talk. Or slobbering animals, including gangsters, mangy dogs, and babies. Prefers fists and rarely uses his Tamos other than to occasionally club people. Got a problem? Doesn't care, unless you've got something he'd enjoy eating.
Noven likes food. A lot. Since Nona's death, he continues their tradition of treating himself to a feast once a season. His favorite? A simple (but expensive as shyke) dish of medium-rare lamb chops, generously seasoned with vinegar, lemon, rosemary, maybe a dash of thyme, and olive oil. It tastes like home, he likes to say, and when he takes a bite of succulent, tangy, herb crusted chops, it almost feels like Nona is still there, rubbing him tenderly on the back whilst threatening to shear off all his hair if he continues wearing it like some kind of cannibalistic Myrian.
Pain defines a poignant aspect his life, though not all of it. While there is no doubt in Noven's mind what he is--vicious, cunning, ruthless--he does not wish to be like the other bloodthirsty maniacs who share his curse.
Yes, curse. You can only inflict unbearable pain on someone, even a worthless lowlife, so many times before you start to lose a bit of your humanity. Fortunately for Noven, he's never been the type to do much introspection. So long as his victims had victims of their own, he sleeps quite well at night. Like a baby, in fact. His only difficulties lie in the nightmares, in which all he can see is Nona's lifeless face, eyes empty, throat slit, and all he can feel is an unquenchable, sickening desire for vengeance.
He may never admit it, since Krysus had indeed granted him the power to exact his revenge, but Noven's mark is more of a physical and mental shackle of sorts than a true, divine blessing. It is a burden, the literal bane of his very existence. A deep desire to see the world and discover a change of scenery burns steadily in the back of his mind, dangling on the horizon tantalizingly like a deep-fried, garlic seasoned fillet, but Noven is afraid. Afraid that if he were ever to set foot out of Sunberth there would be no one he would willingly inflict pain on. That he would somehow earn the ire of Krysus and have his curse degrade to something far worse. That he wouldn't know the first thing about an honest life.
That, with no way to curb the conditions of his mark, he would die the most agonizing death imaginable. And, worst of all, that his death would mean his failure to bring bout the vivid resolution of his greatest, deepest vendetta.
The guy tries to do good. He really, really does. There just isn't much helping when it comes to his volatile nature and less than ideal circumstances. The young man is headstrong, passionate, and blunt to a fault, at best. At his worst, he can be obdurate, reckless, and downright vindictive. Granted, he does have a rather noble rule he sticks unfailingly to: no women and no children. Unless, of course, it's a prostitute or pick pocket who does something truly deserving of his marked touch, like murdering an innocent...
...or ruining his dinner.
Hey, a good meal is hard to come by in Sunberth.
Noven likes food. A lot. Since Nona's death, he continues their tradition of treating himself to a feast once a season. His favorite? A simple (but expensive as shyke) dish of medium-rare lamb chops, generously seasoned with vinegar, lemon, rosemary, maybe a dash of thyme, and olive oil. It tastes like home, he likes to say, and when he takes a bite of succulent, tangy, herb crusted chops, it almost feels like Nona is still there, rubbing him tenderly on the back whilst threatening to shear off all his hair if he continues wearing it like some kind of cannibalistic Myrian.
Pain defines a poignant aspect his life, though not all of it. While there is no doubt in Noven's mind what he is--vicious, cunning, ruthless--he does not wish to be like the other bloodthirsty maniacs who share his curse.
Yes, curse. You can only inflict unbearable pain on someone, even a worthless lowlife, so many times before you start to lose a bit of your humanity. Fortunately for Noven, he's never been the type to do much introspection. So long as his victims had victims of their own, he sleeps quite well at night. Like a baby, in fact. His only difficulties lie in the nightmares, in which all he can see is Nona's lifeless face, eyes empty, throat slit, and all he can feel is an unquenchable, sickening desire for vengeance.
He may never admit it, since Krysus had indeed granted him the power to exact his revenge, but Noven's mark is more of a physical and mental shackle of sorts than a true, divine blessing. It is a burden, the literal bane of his very existence. A deep desire to see the world and discover a change of scenery burns steadily in the back of his mind, dangling on the horizon tantalizingly like a deep-fried, garlic seasoned fillet, but Noven is afraid. Afraid that if he were ever to set foot out of Sunberth there would be no one he would willingly inflict pain on. That he would somehow earn the ire of Krysus and have his curse degrade to something far worse. That he wouldn't know the first thing about an honest life.
That, with no way to curb the conditions of his mark, he would die the most agonizing death imaginable. And, worst of all, that his death would mean his failure to bring bout the vivid resolution of his greatest, deepest vendetta.
The guy tries to do good. He really, really does. There just isn't much helping when it comes to his volatile nature and less than ideal circumstances. The young man is headstrong, passionate, and blunt to a fault, at best. At his worst, he can be obdurate, reckless, and downright vindictive. Granted, he does have a rather noble rule he sticks unfailingly to: no women and no children. Unless, of course, it's a prostitute or pick pocket who does something truly deserving of his marked touch, like murdering an innocent...
...or ruining his dinner.
Hey, a good meal is hard to come by in Sunberth.
HISTORY
Noven remembers nothing of where he came from. All he knows is that he woke up one day and Nona was there. And Nona was always there after that.
Until she was murdered.
He was a wee thing when he was taken in by the humble day laborer. Nona wasn't Yvaine's real name, but it was what the boy called her because...well, who even knows why children do the things they do? Yvaine certainly didn't. Suffice to say, the name stuck.
Nona was a lean, mean, former fighting machine. Tough as nails in both mind and body. She raised the boy to survive, to use his head more than his fists. She also taught him to appreciate some of the finer things in life, such as good food and good company, whenever he could. "Life is hard and often short in this lawless city," she liked to say, "which means we gotta take what we can, when we can." Sometimes, Noven can still hear her sandpapery voice in his head, scolding him for leaving his sweat sodden clothes on the ground or letting the fish stew boil too long in her precious crock. She was rough on him, but only so he'd turn out more polished than the rest.
Nona was everything to him, even though it was painfully obvious she was of no blood relation. Her skin was far darker--more of an earthy brown than his deep, olive complexion--and her hair always had springs of tight curls, where as his was loose and wavy.
Yet, her love ran deeper than the blackest depths of Noven's forgotten memories. For this, the boy loved her back, wholly and unconditionally. As far as he was concerned the sassy woman was the only family he ever had. He could care less about where he came from. It didn't matter--not anymore, not after it was made clear he was unwanted. He still remembers the day he showed up in front of her rickety, peeling door, his dirty little hand enveloped within that of a woman named Calyn.
When Yvaine emerged warily to meet them, the first thing she did was glare at her landlady, then at the boy, and slam the door shut again. It had taken much cajoling and explaining on Calyn's part to draw her back out and reconsider.
"The boy is...too much of a handful, even for me," Calyn explained. "He is sweet and well behaved, but when the others bully him...well, I don't want a room full dead children when he becomes too strong for me to restrain, if you know what I mean." The woman heaved a tired sigh. "You're the only one who can help him, Yve."
The tall, intimidating woman standing in the doorway looked down at Noven. "How old are you, boy?" she growled.
"S-seven."
"Your parents?"
"I don't know..."
"Any family at all?"
"I don't--"
"So you like to fight, huh?"
The boy hesitated for a moment. "...No. I just want to make the mean ones sorry. But I don't like to fight. Not all the time. Sometimes they hit me back, and it hurts. Look, one bit me yesterday!"
He held up his elbow, displaying the grisly teeth marks forming an angry, red semicircle around his lean flesh. From the look Calyn gave at this last statement, Yvaine guessed there were more than a few "mean ones" at the orphanage to deal with. But...
...not enough to beat this little one to death, eh?
"Well," she huffed. "That'll do, then."
And so they began their life together, laughing, crying, and eating their way through the years. Till there were no more years to be had.
After Nona's death, and due to his newly acquired mark, Noven stayed in the sanctity of their old room and lived off of their savings, struggling to cope with his new abilities. Then the fire in Fall of 511AV burned down most of his side of the building, as well as sweet old Calyn herself, so he was forced to move to a different apartment within Sunset Quarters and find less...savory work in the city.
That's when he started showing up in Tall Johnny's casino. There, he found he could kill two birds with one stone: keep his pain at bay and earn a little extra money while he was at it.
No, make that three. He was getting stronger, too. And faster. And smarter. And one day, he would make the man who murdered Nona pay. Slowly, agonizingly, in a world filled with nothing but searing pain and the all-consuming desire to die.
The murderer was a mean one who owed more than just a simple apology, and Noven was going to relish every sob, every scream, every meaningless, heartfelt apology that wormed its way out of his spittle-encrusted lips. He would vex the man again. And again. And again. Until only fragments of the scumbag's mind were left. His body would be left for all to see, naked, mewling, weeping, reduced to the lowest forms of indignity.
And even then, Noven would not grant him the gift of death.
Until she was murdered.
He was a wee thing when he was taken in by the humble day laborer. Nona wasn't Yvaine's real name, but it was what the boy called her because...well, who even knows why children do the things they do? Yvaine certainly didn't. Suffice to say, the name stuck.
Nona was a lean, mean, former fighting machine. Tough as nails in both mind and body. She raised the boy to survive, to use his head more than his fists. She also taught him to appreciate some of the finer things in life, such as good food and good company, whenever he could. "Life is hard and often short in this lawless city," she liked to say, "which means we gotta take what we can, when we can." Sometimes, Noven can still hear her sandpapery voice in his head, scolding him for leaving his sweat sodden clothes on the ground or letting the fish stew boil too long in her precious crock. She was rough on him, but only so he'd turn out more polished than the rest.
Nona was everything to him, even though it was painfully obvious she was of no blood relation. Her skin was far darker--more of an earthy brown than his deep, olive complexion--and her hair always had springs of tight curls, where as his was loose and wavy.
Yet, her love ran deeper than the blackest depths of Noven's forgotten memories. For this, the boy loved her back, wholly and unconditionally. As far as he was concerned the sassy woman was the only family he ever had. He could care less about where he came from. It didn't matter--not anymore, not after it was made clear he was unwanted. He still remembers the day he showed up in front of her rickety, peeling door, his dirty little hand enveloped within that of a woman named Calyn.
When Yvaine emerged warily to meet them, the first thing she did was glare at her landlady, then at the boy, and slam the door shut again. It had taken much cajoling and explaining on Calyn's part to draw her back out and reconsider.
"The boy is...too much of a handful, even for me," Calyn explained. "He is sweet and well behaved, but when the others bully him...well, I don't want a room full dead children when he becomes too strong for me to restrain, if you know what I mean." The woman heaved a tired sigh. "You're the only one who can help him, Yve."
The tall, intimidating woman standing in the doorway looked down at Noven. "How old are you, boy?" she growled.
"S-seven."
"Your parents?"
"I don't know..."
"Any family at all?"
"I don't--"
"So you like to fight, huh?"
The boy hesitated for a moment. "...No. I just want to make the mean ones sorry. But I don't like to fight. Not all the time. Sometimes they hit me back, and it hurts. Look, one bit me yesterday!"
He held up his elbow, displaying the grisly teeth marks forming an angry, red semicircle around his lean flesh. From the look Calyn gave at this last statement, Yvaine guessed there were more than a few "mean ones" at the orphanage to deal with. But...
...not enough to beat this little one to death, eh?
"Well," she huffed. "That'll do, then."
And so they began their life together, laughing, crying, and eating their way through the years. Till there were no more years to be had.
After Nona's death, and due to his newly acquired mark, Noven stayed in the sanctity of their old room and lived off of their savings, struggling to cope with his new abilities. Then the fire in Fall of 511AV burned down most of his side of the building, as well as sweet old Calyn herself, so he was forced to move to a different apartment within Sunset Quarters and find less...savory work in the city.
That's when he started showing up in Tall Johnny's casino. There, he found he could kill two birds with one stone: keep his pain at bay and earn a little extra money while he was at it.
No, make that three. He was getting stronger, too. And faster. And smarter. And one day, he would make the man who murdered Nona pay. Slowly, agonizingly, in a world filled with nothing but searing pain and the all-consuming desire to die.
The murderer was a mean one who owed more than just a simple apology, and Noven was going to relish every sob, every scream, every meaningless, heartfelt apology that wormed its way out of his spittle-encrusted lips. He would vex the man again. And again. And again. Until only fragments of the scumbag's mind were left. His body would be left for all to see, naked, mewling, weeping, reduced to the lowest forms of indignity.
And even then, Noven would not grant him the gift of death.
GNOSIS
Young, hot headed, no affiliations and a tendency to end his quarrels with either his fists or the nearest blunt object. It was only a matter of time before Noven took a misstep with one of Sunberth's ruthless gangs.
And when he did, it happened to involve The Daggerhand.
-------------
Nona was happy with her rough, thankless, barely-paying job as a day laborer. Ambitions, she'd come to find, beyond leading a decent life in Sunberth were not worth the risks. Not for her. Not anymore. If she could live comfortably without having to knock someone's head in more than once every few days, she was happy. And for the most part, she instilled that in Noven's youthful, restless mind.
He was almost a man, likely twenty some years old now. How long had it been since that first day he showed up in front of her door? Ten years? Twelve? Nona couldn't remember, nor did she try. What mattered now was that their life together remain preserved--decent, comfortable, and sometimes worth celebrating over with a nice set of chops. Such a feast requires about half their savings each season to procure, but it's worth it every time. These were the thoughts floating about in her head as she reached for the knob of their flimsy apartment door, a sack of groceries in one arm.
Nona balked. The door was already ajar.
"Come on in, dearest Yvaine," a smooth, oily voice coaxed from within the apartment. Nona's eyes darted to the left, then the right. There was no way she could outrun them, since he likely had several men guarding every side of the building. She knew his game. This was no pleasure call.
"I know you're standing there, thinkin' bout all the ways you might but probably won't be able to escape."
There was a series of low, throaty chuckles. "My boys outside have just informed me you've come home from some shopping. How lovely. Have a nice time, hmm? Well, don't let me stop you from what needs to be done, darlin'. Come in and set that big 'ol bag 'o goodies down."
A sigh of exaggerated impatience. "Don't be shy now, I won't bite."
Nona stared hard at the door, steeled her will, and pushed through with quiet steps. The hinges squeaked anyway, loud and whining as the intruder was slowly revealed.
Oh, gods, the woman sobbed silently in her head. What have you done this time, Nov?
The man who was leering on the other side of that door was tall and hawkish, and his face, to be summed up in a word, was ruthless. Oiled hair combed back in a thick wave, crisp shirt open at the chest to reveal the image of a red dagger circled by a ring of thorns, right over his heart. This man looked the part as much as he played it it. And oh, how he did revel in his bloodthirsty role.
Nona fought against the terror seeping through her bones. A Boss of The Daggerhand was standing, in the flesh, on the very floor of her apartment. That could mean one thing, and one thing only.
She was going to die.
Nona sniffed, as though unimpressed, and set down the heavy sack of fruits and vegetables. Then she planted her hands on her hips and gave him the most bored expression she could possibly muster. "What do you want?"
An apple had rolled free of the sack, wobbling across the molding floorboards before it bounced against one of the man's polished boots. The Boss picked it up with nimble fingers and tossed it into the air once before taking out his dagger.
"A woman who cuts straight to the chase," he grinned, carving off a slice of the apple and spearing it onto his blade. "I like that. Well, then, straight to business it is. People say you've got a boy living with you here. Where is he?"
None looked at him levelly. "Not here. Last I heard, he was at The Pig's Foot getting piss drunk with his friends. Maybe you ought to check there."
The boss laughed outright, shaking his head. "Now, now, I understand if you have, you know, certain ties with the boy. From what I've heard, he's quite the looker."
The man winked and stuck the chunk of apple in his mouth, chewing vehemently. It made Nona sick. Everything about this man and the things he said made her feel sick. But she said nothing, not a word of it. She had to buy the boy time, and she was no use to him dead sooner than later.
"But I digress. My point is, ties. I understand them. Believe, me I do." He giggled a little then, which only reaffirmed Nona's assumption that he was bat shyke crazy. "However, my gentle lady, ties are second only to respecting those more powerful than you. And your boy was seen fenangling with one of the Dagger's favorite ladies. Yeah, you heard me right. Fenangling."
Nona's face bore only confusion, but the Boss paid her no mind. He was getting to the good part, and it still made his blood boil just thinking about it. "And not just any of the favorites. My favorite. And a Boss of The Daggerhand does not share favorites unless that favorite is no longer his favorite. You feel me?"
The woman nodded slowly, trying her best not to look as judgmental as she felt. "Good, at least you understand. Well, clearly, such an offense could not go by unchecked. The wench has been taken care of. That was the easy part. But now, I've a vague, vague little boy to find. A strapping lad with dark hair and a mean look, was all the poor girl could tell me before I sliced her face in two. Imagine that, running off with him without even knowing his name. Dumb as shyke, women are, I tell you! Present company excluded, of course."
Nona merely swallowed. She was trying to hold back her tears, to desperately think of a way to save Nov. Oh, foolish, foolish boy. It didn't even matter if the story was true or not. He had, at the very least, pissed off someone enough to bring about this vicious vendetta, and now they would both pay for it.
Well, with any luck, maybe only one of them.
"But, clever, little old me managed to find out who he lives with. And there you have it! Me, here, in your apartment." He was very close now, the apple still in one hand, dagger in the other. She could smell the expensive oils reeking from his overly groomed hair. "Now, you tell me where he is. Or I will make you wish I'd killed you right from the start."
Just then, a commotion broke out in front of the building. Angry shouts could be heard through the open window and both Nona and the Boss were drawn to the noise. The man gave her a scowl, spat once to the side, and retreated to look out and see what was going on.
"Idiots, what's going on out there?" He shouted to his henchman. A tsk and a sigh. "Aw, come on Calyn. You know I'm just here on business. Me and my boys will be out of your hair in a flash, promise."
"You dirty scoundrels will leave this very instant!" Calyn fired back. "I don't want to be scrubbing bloodstains out of my precious walls all night long again."
The Boss ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, but he was in no mood to argue. Besides, if they ever hurt sweet, old Calyn, the city folk would make a horrible, messy fuss. And Robern had explicitly stated he wanted no such trouble at this particular time. Well, not much of a choice, the Boss thought to himself. A nod and a wave to his thugs, and then he was back facing Nona again. "Alright, you heard what the lady said. We're taking this outside."
A few chimes later, the Boss released his iron grip on Nona's arm, the flesh he had grabbed still stinging with pain. They were out in some obscure alleyway now, and the humble day laborer knew she had no time left.
"I'm going to ask one more time, nicely, and after that I'm done with politeness," the Boss hissed. "Where. Is. The. Boy?"
At that very moment, something caught Nona's eye. A tall, well-built youth with dark features and the typical, hard-eyed, street urchin look about him was strolling down the street. It was the boy Nov sometimes drank with out on the docks, a boy with no family and no ties. What had his name been? Hank? Harry? Ah, right. Henry. She could just make Henry's lean figure out behind the Boss's burly shoulder.
I'm sorry, she wept in her mind. I'm so, so sorry. Then she widened her eyes in only slightly mock horror, fixing her gaze upon his approaching figure, and mouthed the words "Henry...oh no, Henry..."
In less than a tick, the thugs had leaped into action, nabbing the boy right as he passed the alleyway and pinned him down. One had a hand clamped over the kid's mouth, careful not to let anyone hear his muffled shouts.
"Ah, Henry, is it?" the Boss chirped, his mood suddenly improved tenfold. The boy, not knowing what else to do, nodded. Everyone knew it was best not to lie to the gangs of Sunberth under any circumstances.
Even if it meant selling out your own mother.
"And...do you know this fine lady here?" The boy's gaze flickered to Nona, and a vague recognition lit within his brown eyes. "Good enough for me. Well, you little bastard, this is for robbing me of a fine piece of action."
Nona averted her eyes as the Boss bent down and sliced open the boy's belly, his screams still muffled beneath a thug's firm hand. "Nice and slow for you, boy. It's the least you deserve. Now, lady Yvaine, I believe it's your turn. Nothing personal, mind you. You've been very cooperative and your death will be much cleaner, much quicker than his. I just can't have you running around making trouble on my behalf. You understand."
Tears flowed freely now down the woman's dark skin, but she nodded without a trace of fear. Noven was safe now. She had done all that she could, and the sins committed today were hers to bear and hers alone.
The Boss leaned close, fingers digging deep within Nona's curls, pulling her head back to expose her neck. He planted a tiny kiss on her nape. Then he made one single, swift cut across her flesh. Nona sputtered for a moment before he let go of her hair, letting her body spasm atop the cold, uncaring stones until it stopped twitching altogether. By then, the boy was still alive but in too much pain to protest his fate. Poor kid, if only he had kept his petching hands to his petching self.
The thugs moved to collect the bodies, but their Boss waved a hand to stop them. "Leave it, let it be a warning to the rest. Yes, I believe that's all for today."
He let loose a satisfied sigh, then clapped his hands. "Well, boys, time to go home!"
----Two Bells Later----
Noven stared, disbelieving, at his former caretaker's cold corpse. Henry's was there too, the kid's guts all but spilling out from his stomach. No, he cried silently in his mind. No, no, no, this can't be happening. But it was. Did. Had. All because he had been stupid enough to punch that thug in the face for trying to rape poor Gwen. He shouldn't have stepped in. Should never have even cared! And now, Nona had paid. Paid for his recklessness and foolishness, like she always did.
Like she never would again.
He was going to make who ever did this suffer. Not die, suffer. That was all Noven could think about as he left the bloodied bodies where they lay, knowing there would be no place to bury them anyway. He planted one, tender kiss on Nona's cold forehead, held a hand to Henry's shoulder for a tick, and then left to exact his revenge.
Noven had nothing to lose now. Everything--his life, his happiness, his sense of purpose--was forfeit. Gone with the last breath Nona had taken and the last drop of blood she had shed. If it hadn't been for Calyn, who told him as soon as he'd returned where The Daggerhands had taken Nona, he would have never known who was responsible.
He was going to make them pay. Was going to make them hurt. Only he was going to make the pain last a hundred times longer and cut a hundred times deeper than they had inflicted on him and those he loved.
He went straight to the tavern where The Daggerhands most frequented. A pint of ale and a table to himself later, Noven was glowering from the corner, watching for the first thug to extract himself from his dirtbag friends and stumble into the open night.
Not half a bell later, his chance came. One of the fellows, who was shirtless and displaying his Daggerhand brand for all the world to see, tripped over himself and fell to the floor. His friends exploded with laughter and, after helping him back to his feet, pushed him out the doors and told him to go sleep it off. He nodded in sheepish compliance, then dove out onto the streets.
Nov took one last swig of his ale, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and stalked after the drunken man.
The Daggerhand thug was singing some ridiculous, bawdy song about seven whores and one bed. Nov could care less. In fact, the louder he sang, the better. That meant he would be less likely to hear his pursuer approach. When they were far enough from the tavern and the streets grew dark as the night itself, Nov took brisk, quiet steps to catch up to the man. Once he did, he hooked an arm around the thug, covering the man's mouth with his hand, and dragged him into an empty alley.
Before the thug could so much as scream, Noven punched him in the face, breaking his nose. The man howled then, but this was Sunberth. No one would care, especially without being able to see that stupid tattoo on his chest.
"Who killed that woman and boy today?" Nov hissed. The thug was clutching at his bloodied nose, but he managed to answer with the usual "I have no idea what you're talking about you crazy ba--"
Noven punched him again, this time in the eye, and then stood up. He planted on foot over the man's crotch and crushed, ground, smashed his testicles into the stones beneath. His screams were running dry now and he was openly sobbing. Yet, still no answer. "What are you petching crazy?" the thug half screamed half sobbed. "How am I to know...who killed...one lousy pair of city folk?"
For a moment, Noven panicked. He hadn't thought this out very far. Hadn't thought about it at all, really. What was he even doing? How far would he, or could he go to make this man talk? What if the thug didn't have the answers anyways and he was of utterly no use to him?
Worst of all, now that the man had seen Noven's face, a face who should have been cold and bloated and very much dead by now...
...well, with or without answers, the thug was going to have to die.
At that moment, an icy, Winter breeze blew by, sending every hair on Noven's neck standing at full attention. It felt unnaturally sentient, the boy found himself thinking, like the sigh or caress of a beautiful woman. And then he heard it. A voice, a female voice, whispering seductively into his ear. Or, more like, he was hearing it in his mind, since the thug squirming before him seemed not to hear anything other than his own mewls of pain.
"Poor, poor, angry boy," the voice seemed to say. "So much pain, so much hate. Mmm, your heart is practically festering with malice. Here, if you want to hurt him so bad...if you want revenge so much...let me help you..."
A searing, burning pain suddenly erupted in Noven's left hand. He cried out in surprise and, when he looked down at his skin, found the veins were coursing with crimson. "Now, touch him," the voice continued, more feverishly now. "Go on. Make him hurt. Make him suffer. See what it's like to have power."
Nov did as he was told. It felt as though he were in a dream, and that his body moved of its own accord. He watched as his left hand, crimson veins and all, reached out and touched the coughing thug firmly on the nose.
The man exploded in horrifying, inhuman screams. He writhed so hard he was flopping entire inches off the ground and he was crying...begging for Nov to kill him. "P-please!" he sobbed, "Aaaahh, please, just k-kill me! I swear I had n-nothing to d-do with it. The B-Boss, he..."
"Touch him again, harder," the ethereal voice commanded, oozing a strange sort of twisted ecstasy, moaning as his crimsoned hand reached out once more. Shaking limb to limb now, Nov had no choice but to obey. And when he did...
Oh, gods. The howls of agony, the violent spasm of the man's body...what exactly had he just done? The thug's face was twisted in gruesome, impossible angles. His chest arched right off the ground, like something was trying to claw its way out of his chest. The man was in so much vivid pain that he could no longer scream or breathe.
And then...he collapsed. That was it. He was dead.
Nov stared, numbed with shock. Somewhere distantly in his mind, he realized that, at the very least, the thug had admitted Nona's murder was committed by one of the bosses. That narrowed his search to a mere twenty or so men.
He laughed, then. Freely, deliriously, sorrowfully. The wind seemed to chuckle faintly in approval, echoing him in a cold, slithering way, but he was too far gone to care in that moment. It didn't matter what had just happened to him, what had allowed him to kill this thug with a single touch. He was going to use it. It was his greatest blessing so far, and he was going to really, really make Nona's murderer pay now.
Oh, how little Nov knew then what he knows now.
And when he did, it happened to involve The Daggerhand.
-------------
Nona was happy with her rough, thankless, barely-paying job as a day laborer. Ambitions, she'd come to find, beyond leading a decent life in Sunberth were not worth the risks. Not for her. Not anymore. If she could live comfortably without having to knock someone's head in more than once every few days, she was happy. And for the most part, she instilled that in Noven's youthful, restless mind.
He was almost a man, likely twenty some years old now. How long had it been since that first day he showed up in front of her door? Ten years? Twelve? Nona couldn't remember, nor did she try. What mattered now was that their life together remain preserved--decent, comfortable, and sometimes worth celebrating over with a nice set of chops. Such a feast requires about half their savings each season to procure, but it's worth it every time. These were the thoughts floating about in her head as she reached for the knob of their flimsy apartment door, a sack of groceries in one arm.
Nona balked. The door was already ajar.
"Come on in, dearest Yvaine," a smooth, oily voice coaxed from within the apartment. Nona's eyes darted to the left, then the right. There was no way she could outrun them, since he likely had several men guarding every side of the building. She knew his game. This was no pleasure call.
"I know you're standing there, thinkin' bout all the ways you might but probably won't be able to escape."
There was a series of low, throaty chuckles. "My boys outside have just informed me you've come home from some shopping. How lovely. Have a nice time, hmm? Well, don't let me stop you from what needs to be done, darlin'. Come in and set that big 'ol bag 'o goodies down."
A sigh of exaggerated impatience. "Don't be shy now, I won't bite."
Nona stared hard at the door, steeled her will, and pushed through with quiet steps. The hinges squeaked anyway, loud and whining as the intruder was slowly revealed.
Oh, gods, the woman sobbed silently in her head. What have you done this time, Nov?
The man who was leering on the other side of that door was tall and hawkish, and his face, to be summed up in a word, was ruthless. Oiled hair combed back in a thick wave, crisp shirt open at the chest to reveal the image of a red dagger circled by a ring of thorns, right over his heart. This man looked the part as much as he played it it. And oh, how he did revel in his bloodthirsty role.
Nona fought against the terror seeping through her bones. A Boss of The Daggerhand was standing, in the flesh, on the very floor of her apartment. That could mean one thing, and one thing only.
She was going to die.
Nona sniffed, as though unimpressed, and set down the heavy sack of fruits and vegetables. Then she planted her hands on her hips and gave him the most bored expression she could possibly muster. "What do you want?"
An apple had rolled free of the sack, wobbling across the molding floorboards before it bounced against one of the man's polished boots. The Boss picked it up with nimble fingers and tossed it into the air once before taking out his dagger.
"A woman who cuts straight to the chase," he grinned, carving off a slice of the apple and spearing it onto his blade. "I like that. Well, then, straight to business it is. People say you've got a boy living with you here. Where is he?"
None looked at him levelly. "Not here. Last I heard, he was at The Pig's Foot getting piss drunk with his friends. Maybe you ought to check there."
The boss laughed outright, shaking his head. "Now, now, I understand if you have, you know, certain ties with the boy. From what I've heard, he's quite the looker."
The man winked and stuck the chunk of apple in his mouth, chewing vehemently. It made Nona sick. Everything about this man and the things he said made her feel sick. But she said nothing, not a word of it. She had to buy the boy time, and she was no use to him dead sooner than later.
"But I digress. My point is, ties. I understand them. Believe, me I do." He giggled a little then, which only reaffirmed Nona's assumption that he was bat shyke crazy. "However, my gentle lady, ties are second only to respecting those more powerful than you. And your boy was seen fenangling with one of the Dagger's favorite ladies. Yeah, you heard me right. Fenangling."
Nona's face bore only confusion, but the Boss paid her no mind. He was getting to the good part, and it still made his blood boil just thinking about it. "And not just any of the favorites. My favorite. And a Boss of The Daggerhand does not share favorites unless that favorite is no longer his favorite. You feel me?"
The woman nodded slowly, trying her best not to look as judgmental as she felt. "Good, at least you understand. Well, clearly, such an offense could not go by unchecked. The wench has been taken care of. That was the easy part. But now, I've a vague, vague little boy to find. A strapping lad with dark hair and a mean look, was all the poor girl could tell me before I sliced her face in two. Imagine that, running off with him without even knowing his name. Dumb as shyke, women are, I tell you! Present company excluded, of course."
Nona merely swallowed. She was trying to hold back her tears, to desperately think of a way to save Nov. Oh, foolish, foolish boy. It didn't even matter if the story was true or not. He had, at the very least, pissed off someone enough to bring about this vicious vendetta, and now they would both pay for it.
Well, with any luck, maybe only one of them.
"But, clever, little old me managed to find out who he lives with. And there you have it! Me, here, in your apartment." He was very close now, the apple still in one hand, dagger in the other. She could smell the expensive oils reeking from his overly groomed hair. "Now, you tell me where he is. Or I will make you wish I'd killed you right from the start."
Just then, a commotion broke out in front of the building. Angry shouts could be heard through the open window and both Nona and the Boss were drawn to the noise. The man gave her a scowl, spat once to the side, and retreated to look out and see what was going on.
"Idiots, what's going on out there?" He shouted to his henchman. A tsk and a sigh. "Aw, come on Calyn. You know I'm just here on business. Me and my boys will be out of your hair in a flash, promise."
"You dirty scoundrels will leave this very instant!" Calyn fired back. "I don't want to be scrubbing bloodstains out of my precious walls all night long again."
The Boss ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, but he was in no mood to argue. Besides, if they ever hurt sweet, old Calyn, the city folk would make a horrible, messy fuss. And Robern had explicitly stated he wanted no such trouble at this particular time. Well, not much of a choice, the Boss thought to himself. A nod and a wave to his thugs, and then he was back facing Nona again. "Alright, you heard what the lady said. We're taking this outside."
A few chimes later, the Boss released his iron grip on Nona's arm, the flesh he had grabbed still stinging with pain. They were out in some obscure alleyway now, and the humble day laborer knew she had no time left.
"I'm going to ask one more time, nicely, and after that I'm done with politeness," the Boss hissed. "Where. Is. The. Boy?"
At that very moment, something caught Nona's eye. A tall, well-built youth with dark features and the typical, hard-eyed, street urchin look about him was strolling down the street. It was the boy Nov sometimes drank with out on the docks, a boy with no family and no ties. What had his name been? Hank? Harry? Ah, right. Henry. She could just make Henry's lean figure out behind the Boss's burly shoulder.
I'm sorry, she wept in her mind. I'm so, so sorry. Then she widened her eyes in only slightly mock horror, fixing her gaze upon his approaching figure, and mouthed the words "Henry...oh no, Henry..."
In less than a tick, the thugs had leaped into action, nabbing the boy right as he passed the alleyway and pinned him down. One had a hand clamped over the kid's mouth, careful not to let anyone hear his muffled shouts.
"Ah, Henry, is it?" the Boss chirped, his mood suddenly improved tenfold. The boy, not knowing what else to do, nodded. Everyone knew it was best not to lie to the gangs of Sunberth under any circumstances.
Even if it meant selling out your own mother.
"And...do you know this fine lady here?" The boy's gaze flickered to Nona, and a vague recognition lit within his brown eyes. "Good enough for me. Well, you little bastard, this is for robbing me of a fine piece of action."
Nona averted her eyes as the Boss bent down and sliced open the boy's belly, his screams still muffled beneath a thug's firm hand. "Nice and slow for you, boy. It's the least you deserve. Now, lady Yvaine, I believe it's your turn. Nothing personal, mind you. You've been very cooperative and your death will be much cleaner, much quicker than his. I just can't have you running around making trouble on my behalf. You understand."
Tears flowed freely now down the woman's dark skin, but she nodded without a trace of fear. Noven was safe now. She had done all that she could, and the sins committed today were hers to bear and hers alone.
The Boss leaned close, fingers digging deep within Nona's curls, pulling her head back to expose her neck. He planted a tiny kiss on her nape. Then he made one single, swift cut across her flesh. Nona sputtered for a moment before he let go of her hair, letting her body spasm atop the cold, uncaring stones until it stopped twitching altogether. By then, the boy was still alive but in too much pain to protest his fate. Poor kid, if only he had kept his petching hands to his petching self.
The thugs moved to collect the bodies, but their Boss waved a hand to stop them. "Leave it, let it be a warning to the rest. Yes, I believe that's all for today."
He let loose a satisfied sigh, then clapped his hands. "Well, boys, time to go home!"
----Two Bells Later----
Noven stared, disbelieving, at his former caretaker's cold corpse. Henry's was there too, the kid's guts all but spilling out from his stomach. No, he cried silently in his mind. No, no, no, this can't be happening. But it was. Did. Had. All because he had been stupid enough to punch that thug in the face for trying to rape poor Gwen. He shouldn't have stepped in. Should never have even cared! And now, Nona had paid. Paid for his recklessness and foolishness, like she always did.
Like she never would again.
He was going to make who ever did this suffer. Not die, suffer. That was all Noven could think about as he left the bloodied bodies where they lay, knowing there would be no place to bury them anyway. He planted one, tender kiss on Nona's cold forehead, held a hand to Henry's shoulder for a tick, and then left to exact his revenge.
Noven had nothing to lose now. Everything--his life, his happiness, his sense of purpose--was forfeit. Gone with the last breath Nona had taken and the last drop of blood she had shed. If it hadn't been for Calyn, who told him as soon as he'd returned where The Daggerhands had taken Nona, he would have never known who was responsible.
He was going to make them pay. Was going to make them hurt. Only he was going to make the pain last a hundred times longer and cut a hundred times deeper than they had inflicted on him and those he loved.
He went straight to the tavern where The Daggerhands most frequented. A pint of ale and a table to himself later, Noven was glowering from the corner, watching for the first thug to extract himself from his dirtbag friends and stumble into the open night.
Not half a bell later, his chance came. One of the fellows, who was shirtless and displaying his Daggerhand brand for all the world to see, tripped over himself and fell to the floor. His friends exploded with laughter and, after helping him back to his feet, pushed him out the doors and told him to go sleep it off. He nodded in sheepish compliance, then dove out onto the streets.
Nov took one last swig of his ale, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and stalked after the drunken man.
The Daggerhand thug was singing some ridiculous, bawdy song about seven whores and one bed. Nov could care less. In fact, the louder he sang, the better. That meant he would be less likely to hear his pursuer approach. When they were far enough from the tavern and the streets grew dark as the night itself, Nov took brisk, quiet steps to catch up to the man. Once he did, he hooked an arm around the thug, covering the man's mouth with his hand, and dragged him into an empty alley.
Before the thug could so much as scream, Noven punched him in the face, breaking his nose. The man howled then, but this was Sunberth. No one would care, especially without being able to see that stupid tattoo on his chest.
"Who killed that woman and boy today?" Nov hissed. The thug was clutching at his bloodied nose, but he managed to answer with the usual "I have no idea what you're talking about you crazy ba--"
Noven punched him again, this time in the eye, and then stood up. He planted on foot over the man's crotch and crushed, ground, smashed his testicles into the stones beneath. His screams were running dry now and he was openly sobbing. Yet, still no answer. "What are you petching crazy?" the thug half screamed half sobbed. "How am I to know...who killed...one lousy pair of city folk?"
For a moment, Noven panicked. He hadn't thought this out very far. Hadn't thought about it at all, really. What was he even doing? How far would he, or could he go to make this man talk? What if the thug didn't have the answers anyways and he was of utterly no use to him?
Worst of all, now that the man had seen Noven's face, a face who should have been cold and bloated and very much dead by now...
...well, with or without answers, the thug was going to have to die.
At that moment, an icy, Winter breeze blew by, sending every hair on Noven's neck standing at full attention. It felt unnaturally sentient, the boy found himself thinking, like the sigh or caress of a beautiful woman. And then he heard it. A voice, a female voice, whispering seductively into his ear. Or, more like, he was hearing it in his mind, since the thug squirming before him seemed not to hear anything other than his own mewls of pain.
"Poor, poor, angry boy," the voice seemed to say. "So much pain, so much hate. Mmm, your heart is practically festering with malice. Here, if you want to hurt him so bad...if you want revenge so much...let me help you..."
A searing, burning pain suddenly erupted in Noven's left hand. He cried out in surprise and, when he looked down at his skin, found the veins were coursing with crimson. "Now, touch him," the voice continued, more feverishly now. "Go on. Make him hurt. Make him suffer. See what it's like to have power."
Nov did as he was told. It felt as though he were in a dream, and that his body moved of its own accord. He watched as his left hand, crimson veins and all, reached out and touched the coughing thug firmly on the nose.
The man exploded in horrifying, inhuman screams. He writhed so hard he was flopping entire inches off the ground and he was crying...begging for Nov to kill him. "P-please!" he sobbed, "Aaaahh, please, just k-kill me! I swear I had n-nothing to d-do with it. The B-Boss, he..."
"Touch him again, harder," the ethereal voice commanded, oozing a strange sort of twisted ecstasy, moaning as his crimsoned hand reached out once more. Shaking limb to limb now, Nov had no choice but to obey. And when he did...
Oh, gods. The howls of agony, the violent spasm of the man's body...what exactly had he just done? The thug's face was twisted in gruesome, impossible angles. His chest arched right off the ground, like something was trying to claw its way out of his chest. The man was in so much vivid pain that he could no longer scream or breathe.
And then...he collapsed. That was it. He was dead.
Nov stared, numbed with shock. Somewhere distantly in his mind, he realized that, at the very least, the thug had admitted Nona's murder was committed by one of the bosses. That narrowed his search to a mere twenty or so men.
He laughed, then. Freely, deliriously, sorrowfully. The wind seemed to chuckle faintly in approval, echoing him in a cold, slithering way, but he was too far gone to care in that moment. It didn't matter what had just happened to him, what had allowed him to kill this thug with a single touch. He was going to use it. It was his greatest blessing so far, and he was going to really, really make Nona's murderer pay now.
Oh, how little Nov knew then what he knows now.
S K I L L S
PHYSICAL
| Skill | EXP | Total | Proficiency |
| Unarmed Combat | 15 RB 15 SP +3 +3 +2 +3 +3 +4 +1 +1 +2 +1 +1 +1 +1 +2 +2 +1 +2 +2 +1 +2 +2 | 70 | Expert |
| Brawling | 10 SP +1 +4 +2 +1 +2 +2 +1 +2 +2 +1 | 28 | Competent |
| Dagger: Tamos | 5 SP +2 +1 +1 +1 +3 +1 +1 +1 +4 +2 +1 +2 +1 +1 +1 | 28 | Competent |
| Acrobatics | 5 SP +1 +3 +1 +3 +2 +1 +4 +1 +2 +3 +2 | 28 | Competent |
| Endurance | +1 +1 +2 +2 +2 +3 +1 +3 +2 +1 +5 +5 | 28 | Competent |
| Stealth | +1 +1 +1 +3 +1 +1 +1 +1 +1 +2 +1 +2 +1 +4 | 21 | Novice |
| Running | +1 +2 +1 +2 +1 +1 +2 +2 +1 +1 +1 | 15 | Novice |
| Body Building | +1 +1 +1 +1 +1 +1 +1 +1 +1 +1 +2 +3 | 15 | Novice |
| Climbing | +2 +3 +2 +3 +1 | 11 | Novice |
| Wrestling | +1 +2 +1 | 4 | Novice |
| Escape Artist | +2 | 2 | Novice |
| Swimming | +1 | 1 | Novice |
| Hunting | +1 | 1 | Novice |
| Weapon: Refuse | +1 | 1 | Novice |
| Weapon: Stool | +1 | 1 | Novice |
MENTAL
| Skill | EXP | Total | Proficiency |
| Observation | +2 +3 +4 +3 +5 +4 +5 +5 +2 +4 +1 +2 +5 +3 +2 +2 +2 +3 +1 +2 +5 +5 +3 +2 +5 +3 +5 +5 +1 +3 +1 +3 | 100 | MAX |
| Tactics | +1 +2 +2 +2 +1 +1 +3 +1 +5 +1 +1 +4 +2 +1 +5 | 32 | Competent |
| Planning | +2 +3 +1 +2 +5 +1 +2 +1 +3 | 20 | Novice |
| Investigation | +1 +2 +1 +1 +2 +2 +5 +1 +1 | 16 | Novice |
| Intelligence | +1 +2 +2 +1 +5 +1 +1 | 13 | Novice |
| Deduction | +4 +2 +3 | 9 | Novice |
| Philosophy | +1 +1 +2 +1 +1 | 6 | Novice |
| Subterfuge | +1 +1 +1 | 3 | Novice |
| Logic | +1 +1 | 2 | Novice |
SOCIAL
| Skill | EXP | Total | Proficiency |
| Socialization | +2 +1 +3 +1 +3 +1 +1 +3 +3 +1 +5 +3 +2 +3 +1 +2 +1 +1 +5 +3 +2 | 47 | Expert |
| Rhetoric | +1 +3 +1 +1 +1 +1 +1 +3 +2 +3 +5 +1 +2 +1 +3 +1 +4 +1 +2 +1 +1 | 38 | Competent |
| Intimidation | +1 +1 +1 +2 +1 +1 +4 +1 +2 +1 +1 +3 +1 +1 +3 +1 +2 +1 +2 +4 +1 +1 +1 +1 +3 | 41 | Competent |
| Leadership | +1 +1 +1 +1 +1 +1 +2 +2 +2 +1 +1 +3 +1 +2 +3 +1 | 24 | Novice |
| Interrogation | +1 +1 +1 +2 +3 +2 +2 +1 +5 | 18 | Novice |
| Persuasion | +1 +1 +1 +2 +2 +4 +2 +2 +1 | 16 | Novice |
| Flirting | +1 +3 +2 +1 +2 +1 +4 | 14 | Novice |
| Teaching | +5 +4 +3 | 12 | Novice |
| Negotiation | +1 +1 +1 +1 +1 +1 +3 +1 +1 +1 +2 | 14 | Novice |
| Seduction | +3 +1 +5 +2 | 11 | Novice |
| Love Making | +5 | 5 | Novice |
| Carousing | +4 | 4 | Novice |
| Kissing | +1 | 1 | Novice |
| Diplomacy | +1 | 1 | Novice |
ARTS
| Skill | EXP | Total | Proficiency |
| Cooking | 10 SP +3 +2 +2 +1 +1 +1 +4 +1 +4 | 29 | Competent |
| Childcare | +1 +5 +2 | 8 | Novice |
| Medicine | +1 +1 +1 +1 +2 | 6 | Novice |
| Storytelling | +1 +3 +1 +1 | 6 | Novice |
| Acting | +3 +1 +1 +1 | 6 | Novice |
| Herbalism | 5 SP | 5 | Novice |
| Land Navigation | +2 +2 +1 | 5 | Novice |
| Wilderness Survival | +4 | 4 | Novice |
| Torture | +1 +3 | 4 | Novice |
| Dancing | +1 +1 | 2 | Novice |
| Cleaning | +2 | 2 | Novice |
| Animal Husbandry | +1 +1 | 2 | Novice |
| Writing | +1 | 1 | Novice |
| Cryptography | +1 | Novice | |
| Organization | +1 | 1 | Novice |
| Poison | +1 | 1 | Novice |
| Cosmetology | +1 | 1 | Novice |
| Begging | +1 | 1 | Novice |
MAGIC
Forthcoming...
GNOSIS
Gnosis - Vexation (first mark)
Those with a single mark from Krysus are able to amplify the pain caused through direct injury to another via touching them. The actual wounds are no more severe although the pain felt from them is. Thus if a someone with a mark from Krysus were to cut someone with a dagger, that person would feel as though they were stabbed with it. Unless the wound itself is fatal, the victim will not necessarily die from the pain although they may very well wish they had. Only a single target can be affected by this at any one time. The marked also suffers from the before mentioned curse.
Those with a single mark from Krysus are able to amplify the pain caused through direct injury to another via touching them. The actual wounds are no more severe although the pain felt from them is. Thus if a someone with a mark from Krysus were to cut someone with a dagger, that person would feel as though they were stabbed with it. Unless the wound itself is fatal, the victim will not necessarily die from the pain although they may very well wish they had. Only a single target can be affected by this at any one time. The marked also suffers from the before mentioned curse.
L O R E S
OFFICIAL
Lore of Sunberth's History
Lore of Krysus, Goddess of Murder
Location: Brega's House of Happy Endings
Location: Sunset Quarters Orphanage
Jillian: Mistress of the Orphans
Cooking: Basic Prep Work
Cooking: Basic Knife Techniques
Cooking: Brewing a Basic Stock
Medicine: How to Change a Bandage
Animation: Basic Soulcore Theory
Animation: Basic Astral Body Theory
Lore of Krysus, Goddess of Murder
Location: Brega's House of Happy Endings
Location: Sunset Quarters Orphanage
Jillian: Mistress of the Orphans
Cooking: Basic Prep Work
Cooking: Basic Knife Techniques
Cooking: Brewing a Basic Stock
Medicine: How to Change a Bandage
Animation: Basic Soulcore Theory
Animation: Basic Astral Body Theory
515
Writing: My First Letter
W514
Planning: Rescuing the Sunset Quarter Orphanages
Unarmed Combat: Smothering a foe (somewhat unsuccessfully)
Endurance: Carrying a body
Stealth: Not east whilst carrying a body
Negotiation: With a kidnapped hostage
Unarmed Combat: Biting a foe
Tactics: Vexation as a last resort
Stealth: Unsheathing a weapon behind a foe’s back
Stealth: Opening a door without a sound
Planning: Sometimes winging it is the best approach
Mira: Sunset Quarter Orphan
Mira: Stupidly brave
Caught in flames
The Scars: In danger
The Bear Claws: Rival Gang
Awaiting rescue & release
Philosophy: loyalty is a tricky thing
Tactics: Doing what you can with what you’ve got
Escape Artist: evading chains
Tactics: Patience versus the need to escape
Vexation: A quick, but sweet, revenge
Endurance: Fighting extreme exhaustion
Fallon ‘Bitzer’: A beautiful, welcoming sight
Krysus: A Problem for Another Day
Sleeping Easy Outside of Sunberth
A Deal With the Dungeon Master
Scarlet, Cherise, Carmine… Someone
Initiate Keene: An Open Ended Offer
Sahova: A Dreary Place For Pulsers
Life Experience: Being Morphed Into An Animal…Sort Of.
Overseer Telemeran: A Pompous Corpulent Windbag
Escape Plan: The Importance of Staying On The Move
Wilderness Survival: What Is Edible, Is Better Than Starving
Wilderness Survival: The Importance of Kindling
Cooking: Roasting Mushrooms
Keene: He Can Actually Smile
The Madness of Motherhood
Petch the Plan
The Advantages of Arson
The Anguish of Being Alone
Living: At Least It's Better Than Being Dead
Kids: Just Have To Know How To Beat Them
Keene: Never Courted Before
Keene: Came to Sahova to learn and grow powerful
Keene: Born in Zeltiva
Keene: Drawn to Me
Round One, Keene
Keene, Master Bedder
Trying new things, finding new pleasures
Love: Together in all things
Carmine is in Sunberth
Mella: Keene's Instructor
Loved by Keene
Location: Bloodhills Warden's Cave
Self: Suffers sea-sickness
Tactics: Thugs fight worse when provoked
Intimidation: Insult their weapons and their brains
Tactics: Killing one's own foes before helping others
Intimidation: Fishing for thug bait
Poison: Recognizing a tainted weapon
Unarmed Combat: The classic knee into balls move.
Medicine: To stop blood flow with a knotted piece of material
Fallon: Always puts her Scars before herself
Atziri: Keene’s Master
Lore of Keene The Woman
Kissing: A Man
Kissing: Causes Keene Pain
Leadership: Forceful words, angry tone.
Senghor: Running out of time
Kaie: Drunk and desperate
Medicine: Cleaning wounds
Bodybuilding: Carrying a Myrian
Unarmed Combat: Smothering a foe (somewhat unsuccessfully)
Endurance: Carrying a body
Stealth: Not east whilst carrying a body
Negotiation: With a kidnapped hostage
Unarmed Combat: Biting a foe
Tactics: Vexation as a last resort
Stealth: Unsheathing a weapon behind a foe’s back
Stealth: Opening a door without a sound
Planning: Sometimes winging it is the best approach
Mira: Sunset Quarter Orphan
Mira: Stupidly brave
Caught in flames
The Scars: In danger
The Bear Claws: Rival Gang
Awaiting rescue & release
Philosophy: loyalty is a tricky thing
Tactics: Doing what you can with what you’ve got
Escape Artist: evading chains
Tactics: Patience versus the need to escape
Vexation: A quick, but sweet, revenge
Endurance: Fighting extreme exhaustion
Fallon ‘Bitzer’: A beautiful, welcoming sight
Krysus: A Problem for Another Day
Sleeping Easy Outside of Sunberth
A Deal With the Dungeon Master
Scarlet, Cherise, Carmine… Someone
Initiate Keene: An Open Ended Offer
Sahova: A Dreary Place For Pulsers
Life Experience: Being Morphed Into An Animal…Sort Of.
Overseer Telemeran: A Pompous Corpulent Windbag
Escape Plan: The Importance of Staying On The Move
Wilderness Survival: What Is Edible, Is Better Than Starving
Wilderness Survival: The Importance of Kindling
Cooking: Roasting Mushrooms
Keene: He Can Actually Smile
The Madness of Motherhood
Petch the Plan
The Advantages of Arson
The Anguish of Being Alone
Living: At Least It's Better Than Being Dead
Kids: Just Have To Know How To Beat Them
Keene: Never Courted Before
Keene: Came to Sahova to learn and grow powerful
Keene: Born in Zeltiva
Keene: Drawn to Me
Round One, Keene
Keene, Master Bedder
Trying new things, finding new pleasures
Love: Together in all things
Carmine is in Sunberth
Mella: Keene's Instructor
Loved by Keene
Location: Bloodhills Warden's Cave
Self: Suffers sea-sickness
Tactics: Thugs fight worse when provoked
Intimidation: Insult their weapons and their brains
Tactics: Killing one's own foes before helping others
Intimidation: Fishing for thug bait
Poison: Recognizing a tainted weapon
Unarmed Combat: The classic knee into balls move.
Medicine: To stop blood flow with a knotted piece of material
Fallon: Always puts her Scars before herself
Atziri: Keene’s Master
Lore of Keene The Woman
Kissing: A Man
Kissing: Causes Keene Pain
Leadership: Forceful words, angry tone.
Senghor: Running out of time
Kaie: Drunk and desperate
Medicine: Cleaning wounds
Bodybuilding: Carrying a Myrian
F514
A Wound from Fighting Errol
Being Dragged to the Doc...Literally
The Struggle of Getting Patched Up
Kechaiya: As Curt as Jilliene
The Pain of Alcohol on a Knife Wound
Two Gold Mizas: The Price to Save My Life
Kechaiya: Taught Medicine in Eyktol
Medicine: How to Change a Bandage
Kechaiya, the Doctor
Kechaiya: Doesn't Like Letting People Down
Kechaiya: Will Make sure her Remedies Work Appropriately
Kechaiya's Father's Saying: "Is all water in shade from here."
How to Some-What Comfort a Distressed Woman
Using a Belt Instead of Pain-Killing Herbs
Having and Infected Stitched up Wound Cleaned Petching Hurts!
Bitzer Promises Food
Armored Stranger: Lion
Using a Hot Skillet as a Weapon
Caela Dorin: The Damsel in Distress
Caela: Doesn't like to be Called "Miss Dorin"
Caela: More Than a Pretty Face
Caela: Light on Her Feet
Caela: Had Potential as a Fighter
Caela Calls me "Cookie"
Caela is now "Blondie"
Kechaiya's Tea is a Miracle Drink
Eyktol: Doesn't have Bluebells
Kechaiya wants me
Kechaiya is now "Chai"
Kechaiya was Running From Herself
Kechaiya was a Slave in Ahnatep
Kechaiya: Industrious
Questioning Someone to See if You’re Thinking the Same
Kechaiya: Learned to Be Bold and Enticing
How to Remove Corsets
Persuasion: Using Your Body to Convince Someone of Your Point of View
I’m Kechaiya’s First Lover
How to Pleasure a Woman
Sexual Desperation: Nearly Willing to Cut Off Your Belt
Losing Self-Control in the Course of Pleasure
The Attractions of Making Love to a Virgin
Ejaculating Within a Woman
Purple: Kechaiya’s Favourite Colour
Jade: A Secretive Thief
Ronan: Orphaned baby girl
Kitchen: makeshift grooming
Location: the Quay
Tipsy with Kechaiya
Bitzer and Web, dance together
Sunberth Jig
Too many Choices
Seeking a Gift instead of Words
Meeting a Talking Statuette
Tink the Talking Statue
The Weight of a Clay Man
Intimidation: All in a look
Tall Johnny's: A place for the underdog
Brawling: Sweet victory
Brawling: Versus my own Goliath
Subterfuge: Paying off a 'friend'
Endurance: Fleeing from 'The Noven Hate Club'
Tactics: Thought Before Action
The Rotten Mansion: Mysteriously Fallen
Note to Self: Watch Out For the Hooded Woman
Leadership: Directing for Safety
The Cook Cooks What He Wants To Cook, Damn it!
Kids: Just Have To Know How To Treat Them
Nellie: The Clam Girl
Nellie: A Thinker With Potential
Chasing After Your Supper
Putting the Runts to Work
Size Matters in a Fight
You Gotta Walk the Talk
Unarmed Combat: All the Right Places to Attack
Fighting Dirty is Fighting to Win
Brawling: Using Your Environment
The Horrors of True Hunger
Cooking: Doing the Best With What You've Got
Koruma: The Orphan Boy
Koruma: One of The Good Ones
Recipe: Wilderness Surprise
Being Dragged to the Doc...Literally
The Struggle of Getting Patched Up
Kechaiya: As Curt as Jilliene
The Pain of Alcohol on a Knife Wound
Two Gold Mizas: The Price to Save My Life
Kechaiya: Taught Medicine in Eyktol
Medicine: How to Change a Bandage
Kechaiya, the Doctor
Kechaiya: Doesn't Like Letting People Down
Kechaiya: Will Make sure her Remedies Work Appropriately
Kechaiya's Father's Saying: "Is all water in shade from here."
How to Some-What Comfort a Distressed Woman
Using a Belt Instead of Pain-Killing Herbs
Having and Infected Stitched up Wound Cleaned Petching Hurts!
Bitzer Promises Food
Armored Stranger: Lion
Using a Hot Skillet as a Weapon
Caela Dorin: The Damsel in Distress
Caela: Doesn't like to be Called "Miss Dorin"
Caela: More Than a Pretty Face
Caela: Light on Her Feet
Caela: Had Potential as a Fighter
Caela Calls me "Cookie"
Caela is now "Blondie"
Kechaiya's Tea is a Miracle Drink
Eyktol: Doesn't have Bluebells
Kechaiya wants me
Kechaiya is now "Chai"
Kechaiya was Running From Herself
Kechaiya was a Slave in Ahnatep
Kechaiya: Industrious
Questioning Someone to See if You’re Thinking the Same
Kechaiya: Learned to Be Bold and Enticing
How to Remove Corsets
Persuasion: Using Your Body to Convince Someone of Your Point of View
I’m Kechaiya’s First Lover
How to Pleasure a Woman
Sexual Desperation: Nearly Willing to Cut Off Your Belt
Losing Self-Control in the Course of Pleasure
The Attractions of Making Love to a Virgin
Ejaculating Within a Woman
Purple: Kechaiya’s Favourite Colour
Jade: A Secretive Thief
Ronan: Orphaned baby girl
Kitchen: makeshift grooming
Location: the Quay
Tipsy with Kechaiya
Bitzer and Web, dance together
Sunberth Jig
Too many Choices
Seeking a Gift instead of Words
Meeting a Talking Statuette
Tink the Talking Statue
The Weight of a Clay Man
Intimidation: All in a look
Tall Johnny's: A place for the underdog
Brawling: Sweet victory
Brawling: Versus my own Goliath
Subterfuge: Paying off a 'friend'
Endurance: Fleeing from 'The Noven Hate Club'
Tactics: Thought Before Action
The Rotten Mansion: Mysteriously Fallen
Note to Self: Watch Out For the Hooded Woman
Leadership: Directing for Safety
The Cook Cooks What He Wants To Cook, Damn it!
Kids: Just Have To Know How To Treat Them
Nellie: The Clam Girl
Nellie: A Thinker With Potential
Chasing After Your Supper
Putting the Runts to Work
Size Matters in a Fight
You Gotta Walk the Talk
Unarmed Combat: All the Right Places to Attack
Fighting Dirty is Fighting to Win
Brawling: Using Your Environment
The Horrors of True Hunger
Cooking: Doing the Best With What You've Got
Koruma: The Orphan Boy
Koruma: One of The Good Ones
Recipe: Wilderness Surprise
S514
Sunberth Gang: The Cobra’s
How To: Kick Through A Wall
Seared Memory: The Scalper In The Doorway
Amael: Loved And Lost
Recognizing Daggerhand
Birthmark: Ink
Memory: The Flames
The Myrian: Gave The key To Truth
The Mind: Doors Unlocked
Introductions: Kenneric
Introductions: Flint
Shield: Dead Body
Tiny Red: Insulting nickname
Changing a disadvantage into an advantage
Buras: A man who owes me a favour
Noven the Red: A nickname from Bitzer
Old Mack's: Quality clothing if you can stand the gabbing.
Unarmed Combat: Fighting Fair is Sometimes Necessary for One of Krysus
Spring 514AV Tournament of Fists: Victor
Nate: Cleaned up His Act but Still the Same
Investigation: Orphans Give Information if They’re with Friends
Thomas and Mira: Orphan Informants
Acting: Faking Nonchalance
Location: Van Marx’s Brothel
Rohs: Target Who Likes Abusing Children
Rohs: Magician
Burning Evidence
Accepting that Kay is Another One of the Dead
Nate and I: United in Grief for Kay
Readied Cock: Name from Matthew
Location: The Golden Calf
Scars: My Membership is Motivated By Revenge
Matthew: A Prostitute
Web: The Woman With the Pipe
Scars: A New Family?
Gad: Chatty Kid
Scars: United by the Sigil of a Marred Citadel
Scars: Enemies of the Daggerhand
Senghor: Tall, Dark, and Gruesome
Blitzer Leads, Web is the Assistant
Every Gang Has Its Growing Pains
Everyone Knows About Mae and I
Chicken Kabobs: A Dish for Ungrateful Orphans
Kaie: The Exotic Stranger
Kaie: Scares Small Children
Kaie the Myrian: Will Work for Food
Kaie: Surprisingly Civil...for a Myrian
Kaie: A Traveling Sellsword
Self: Have I Met Kaie Before?
Mission: Give The Daggerhands A Message
Gad: A Real Talker
Working With A Group
Dreaming of a Different Life
How To: Kick Through A Wall
Seared Memory: The Scalper In The Doorway
Amael: Loved And Lost
Recognizing Daggerhand
Birthmark: Ink
Memory: The Flames
The Myrian: Gave The key To Truth
The Mind: Doors Unlocked
Introductions: Kenneric
Introductions: Flint
Shield: Dead Body
Tiny Red: Insulting nickname
Changing a disadvantage into an advantage
Buras: A man who owes me a favour
Noven the Red: A nickname from Bitzer
Old Mack's: Quality clothing if you can stand the gabbing.
Unarmed Combat: Fighting Fair is Sometimes Necessary for One of Krysus
Spring 514AV Tournament of Fists: Victor
Nate: Cleaned up His Act but Still the Same
Investigation: Orphans Give Information if They’re with Friends
Thomas and Mira: Orphan Informants
Acting: Faking Nonchalance
Location: Van Marx’s Brothel
Rohs: Target Who Likes Abusing Children
Rohs: Magician
Burning Evidence
Accepting that Kay is Another One of the Dead
Nate and I: United in Grief for Kay
Readied Cock: Name from Matthew
Location: The Golden Calf
Scars: My Membership is Motivated By Revenge
Matthew: A Prostitute
Web: The Woman With the Pipe
Scars: A New Family?
Gad: Chatty Kid
Scars: United by the Sigil of a Marred Citadel
Scars: Enemies of the Daggerhand
Senghor: Tall, Dark, and Gruesome
Blitzer Leads, Web is the Assistant
Every Gang Has Its Growing Pains
Everyone Knows About Mae and I
Chicken Kabobs: A Dish for Ungrateful Orphans
Kaie: The Exotic Stranger
Kaie: Scares Small Children
Kaie the Myrian: Will Work for Food
Kaie: Surprisingly Civil...for a Myrian
Kaie: A Traveling Sellsword
Self: Have I Met Kaie Before?
Mission: Give The Daggerhands A Message
Gad: A Real Talker
Working With A Group
Dreaming of a Different Life
513
Serta: Wolf Kelvic
Amael: The Curvacious Isurian
Intelligence: Common Sense = Don't Give Away your Home Base
Isurians: The Great Physical Strength of Their Kind
Magic: Sometimes a Necessary Evil
Memories: Hard to Forget the Bad Ones
Mistakes: How to Learn from Failure
Observation: Methods of a Peeping Tom
Observation: Hard to Observe When Only Looking at One Thing
Persuasion: Bartering with an Honest Face
Planning: Another Person Adds Another Twist
Acting: How to Fake a Threesome
Acting: Learning to Hide Your Laughter
Acting: A Loud and Obnoxious Persona
Ade: Son of a Whore
Amael: An Overview of Her History
Amael: Attraction or Desire?
Animation: An Idea of What It Is
Animation: Basic Soulcore Theory
Animation: Basic Astral Body Theory
Brega: A Taste of Her Hypnotism
Brega: More Shrewd Than She Seems
Emotion: Some Feeling Noven has Forgotten
Isme: Contact at Brega's House
Location: Brega's House of Happy Endings
Hatred: It Can Be All-Consuming
Hypnotism: How Effective it can Be
Hypnotism: Beginner at Sensing the Effects
Massage: Simple Techniques
Memory: Brega Will Pay
Observation: Hard to Observe When Only Looking at One Thing Again
Seduction: Resisting Some Wiles
Seduction: Drawing Out the Moment
Seduction: The Power of Two Attractive Women
Sex: Dominating Technique
Tactics: Acting as a Distraction Tactic
Torgen: A Darker Stain on Sunberth
Vex: The Urge Can Come at Any Time
Willpower: Overcoming Primal Desire
Women: Not to be Left Alone Together
Cooking: Basic Prep Work
Cooking: Basic Knife Techniques
Cooking: Brewing a Basic Stock
Jillian: Mistress of the Orphans
Little Thomas: Ice Cold Critic
Recipe: Everything Stew
Sunberth: Fighting in the Arena
Monster: Yukmen
Vexation: Feeling the pain from another
When out of Options, Be Direct
Bitzer: The Woman with the Wolf
Seeking the Hound
Bitzer is Confident..Or Crazy
Bitzer is tied to the Hound, to the Scars
Your Contact with the Scars: Man with the broad rimmed hat
Amira: Stealthy Knife Fighter
Senghor: My Brother
Eleazar: Thieving Sort
Garret: Hand For Hire
Broken Shackles: Ashes Rising
The Death Of Rokan At The Hound’s Hand
The Lady And The Wolf: The Dare
Wrenmae: The Task For The Hound
For the Slavers: Death By Inferno
Slavery: The Big Business of Sunberth
Surreptitiously Securing Supplies
Unarmed Technique: Deadlock
Rescuing Derin From Slavery
Technique: Self Punch
Tinnie Is Missing
Tinnie: Understands Customer Base Development
Dina Left Alone for Four Days
Item: Powdered Puff
Danger of Smut on Reputation
Tinnie: Doesn't Approve of Smut
Tinnies Husband is Loud
Tinnies Husband Favours Evelyn
Gavin: Dangerous
Tinnie Husband Committed Suicide
Suicide in front of Evelyn
Isme: Will Play Nurse if the Price is Right
The Messenger Boy: Son of Isme
Man of the Scars: An Interruption to My Attempted Rest
The Morning After: Feels Too Good to be True
Treating a Kettle Burn with Cold
Mira Will Faithfully Do As I Ask
Mira Has a Crew?!
Worry Over a Lover
Cooking: Making hot cocoa
Tactics: Grabbing an opponent's dropped weapon
Acrobatics: Getting up with a jump and a kick
Amael: The Curvacious Isurian
Intelligence: Common Sense = Don't Give Away your Home Base
Isurians: The Great Physical Strength of Their Kind
Magic: Sometimes a Necessary Evil
Memories: Hard to Forget the Bad Ones
Mistakes: How to Learn from Failure
Observation: Methods of a Peeping Tom
Observation: Hard to Observe When Only Looking at One Thing
Persuasion: Bartering with an Honest Face
Planning: Another Person Adds Another Twist
Acting: How to Fake a Threesome
Acting: Learning to Hide Your Laughter
Acting: A Loud and Obnoxious Persona
Ade: Son of a Whore
Amael: An Overview of Her History
Amael: Attraction or Desire?
Animation: An Idea of What It Is
Animation: Basic Soulcore Theory
Animation: Basic Astral Body Theory
Brega: A Taste of Her Hypnotism
Brega: More Shrewd Than She Seems
Emotion: Some Feeling Noven has Forgotten
Isme: Contact at Brega's House
Location: Brega's House of Happy Endings
Hatred: It Can Be All-Consuming
Hypnotism: How Effective it can Be
Hypnotism: Beginner at Sensing the Effects
Massage: Simple Techniques
Memory: Brega Will Pay
Observation: Hard to Observe When Only Looking at One Thing Again
Seduction: Resisting Some Wiles
Seduction: Drawing Out the Moment
Seduction: The Power of Two Attractive Women
Sex: Dominating Technique
Tactics: Acting as a Distraction Tactic
Torgen: A Darker Stain on Sunberth
Vex: The Urge Can Come at Any Time
Willpower: Overcoming Primal Desire
Women: Not to be Left Alone Together
Cooking: Basic Prep Work
Cooking: Basic Knife Techniques
Cooking: Brewing a Basic Stock
Jillian: Mistress of the Orphans
Little Thomas: Ice Cold Critic
Recipe: Everything Stew
Sunberth: Fighting in the Arena
Monster: Yukmen
Vexation: Feeling the pain from another
When out of Options, Be Direct
Bitzer: The Woman with the Wolf
Seeking the Hound
Bitzer is Confident..Or Crazy
Bitzer is tied to the Hound, to the Scars
Your Contact with the Scars: Man with the broad rimmed hat
Amira: Stealthy Knife Fighter
Senghor: My Brother
Eleazar: Thieving Sort
Garret: Hand For Hire
Broken Shackles: Ashes Rising
The Death Of Rokan At The Hound’s Hand
The Lady And The Wolf: The Dare
Wrenmae: The Task For The Hound
For the Slavers: Death By Inferno
Slavery: The Big Business of Sunberth
Surreptitiously Securing Supplies
Unarmed Technique: Deadlock
Rescuing Derin From Slavery
Technique: Self Punch
Tinnie Is Missing
Tinnie: Understands Customer Base Development
Dina Left Alone for Four Days
Item: Powdered Puff
Danger of Smut on Reputation
Tinnie: Doesn't Approve of Smut
Tinnies Husband is Loud
Tinnies Husband Favours Evelyn
Gavin: Dangerous
Tinnie Husband Committed Suicide
Suicide in front of Evelyn
Isme: Will Play Nurse if the Price is Right
The Messenger Boy: Son of Isme
Man of the Scars: An Interruption to My Attempted Rest
The Morning After: Feels Too Good to be True
Treating a Kettle Burn with Cold
Mira Will Faithfully Do As I Ask
Mira Has a Crew?!
Worry Over a Lover
Cooking: Making hot cocoa
Tactics: Grabbing an opponent's dropped weapon
Acrobatics: Getting up with a jump and a kick
PAST MISC
Senghor Vilhjalmr: Comrade
Heroism: Saving orphans from a burning building
Spotting a Street Urchin
Location: Sunset Quarters Orphanage
Get busy living, or get busy dying
Senghor: family has hidden past
Senghor: family's estate burnt to ground
Observation: punching shuts kids up, fast.
Observation: hunger isn't something people joke about
Reflection: the pride of youth
Nostalgia: Old time with Nate
Kayleigh Ankah: True Mettle
In Another Life: street urchin
Tamo technique: Coup de grace
Thomas: spared urchin
Location: Runnin' Whore
Heroism: Saving orphans from a burning building
Spotting a Street Urchin
Location: Sunset Quarters Orphanage
Get busy living, or get busy dying
Senghor: family has hidden past
Senghor: family's estate burnt to ground
Observation: punching shuts kids up, fast.
Observation: hunger isn't something people joke about
Reflection: the pride of youth
Nostalgia: Old time with Nate
Kayleigh Ankah: True Mettle
In Another Life: street urchin
Tamo technique: Coup de grace
Thomas: spared urchin
Location: Runnin' Whore
H O U S I N G
Location:
(Winter 515AV)
On a ship sailing for Alvadas, then traveling by land to Lhavit. No stable residence yet, poor living standards.
(Spring 515 AV)
Zeltiva
Room at the World's End Grotto
Living Expense: Common, 135 GM/s
Sunberth
(Pre-515 AV)
Permanent residence (1 basic 20x20 single room cottage, 400 sq feet, with a hearth, bunk, chest, chair, and small table) at Sunset Quarters
Living Expense: Poor, 45 GM/s
P O S S E S I O N S
CLOTHES
1 set of Ramie Clothing, includes:
-1 Tunic
-1 Pants
-1 Undergarments
-1 Pair of Gloves
-1 Coat
1 Set of Winter Clothing
-3 fine wool, dyed Tunics (Red, Black, and Dark Red)
-2 leather belts
1 set of Simple Clothing
-1 Trousers
-1 Undergarments
-1 Boots
Ramie: similar to linen made from plant fiber. It is natural white in color, has a high luster and an unusual resistance to bacteria and molds. Used in fabrics often mistaken for linen, it is extremely absorbent and dries quickly.
-1 Tunic
-1 Pants
-1 Undergarments
-1 Pair of Gloves
-1 Coat
1 Set of Winter Clothing
-3 fine wool, dyed Tunics (Red, Black, and Dark Red)
-2 leather belts
1 set of Simple Clothing
-1 Trousers
-1 Undergarments
-1 Boots
Ramie: similar to linen made from plant fiber. It is natural white in color, has a high luster and an unusual resistance to bacteria and molds. Used in fabrics often mistaken for linen, it is extremely absorbent and dries quickly.
ESSENTIALS
1 Waterskin
1 Backpack which contains:
-Comb (Wood)
-Brush (Wood)
-Soap
-Razor
-1 eating knife
-Flint & Steel
1 Backpack which contains:
-Comb (Wood)
-Brush (Wood)
-Soap
-Razor
-1 eating knife
-Flint & Steel
MISC
-1 male Gibbat pup (Wick) acquired in this thread
-1 pair of loaded dice
-1 small basket
-1 set of Tamos
-Cooking Pot
-1 Cook's Toolkit: Includes the necessary items used in cooking and preparing food such as a knife, small pouch of salt and simple seasons. Found primarily in the form of a small kit that breaks down for easy transport in a backpack.
-1 pair of loaded dice
-1 small basket
-1 set of Tamos
-Cooking Pot
-1 Cook's Toolkit: Includes the necessary items used in cooking and preparing food such as a knife, small pouch of salt and simple seasons. Found primarily in the form of a small kit that breaks down for easy transport in a backpack.
HEIRLOOM
L E D G E R
Winter 515
| Purchase | Cost | Total |
| Starting (Summer 515 Salary) | +0 GM | 531 GM |
| Living Expense | -? | ? GM |
Fall 515
| Purchase | Cost | Total |
| Starting (Summer 515 Salary) | +0 GM | 711 GM |
| Living Expense (Noven) | -135 GM | 576 GM |
| Living Expense (Felicity) | -45 GM | 531 GM |
Summer 515
| Purchase | Cost | Total |
| Starting (Spring 515 Salary) | +0 GM | 846 GM |
| Living Expense | -135 GM | 711 GM |
Spring 515
| Purchase | Cost | Total |
| Starting (514 AV Savings) | +? GM | 981 GM |
| Living Expense | -135 GM | 846 GM |
514
| Purchase | Cost | Total |
| Starting (Winter 513 Salary) | +368 GM | 401 GM 2 SM |
| Tourney | +25 GM | 426 GM 2 SM |
| Merc Job | +100 GM | 526 GM 2 SM |
| Living Expense (Spring 514) | -45 GM | 481 GM 2 SM |
| Wages (Spring 514) | +364 GM | 845 GM 2 SM |
| Living Expense (Summer 514) | -45 GM | 800 GM 2 SM |
| Doctor's Fee | -4 GM | 796 GM 2 SM |
| Purchase: Candy (honey) x20 | -2 SM | 796 GM |
| Purchase: Clothes | -5 GM 5 SM | 790 GM 5 SM |
| Purchase: Flowers | -2 GM | 788 GM 5 SM |
| Living Expense (Fall 514) | -45 GM | 743 GM 5 SM |
| Wages (Fall 514) | +364 GM | 1,107 GM |
| Donation to Jillene | -50 GM | 1,057 GM |
| Living Expense (Winter 514) | -45 GM | 1,012 GM |
| Purchase: Gifts | -31 GM | 981 GM |
| Wages (Winter 514) | +? | ? GM |
513
