Roleplay

(@AbyssRanger @Sparksfox @Relicarn @Petaloid @Nightlilac Hey guys! Here's the main thread- obviously XP- so just... y'know... Reply when ya got time ;P)

A curved crescent of land greeted the large boat bobbing sullenly in iron-gray water, shouts and groans emitted from the ship muffled once they reached the large seaside city. Cries of agony and the lash of a whip were discernible as the tub crept closer, heavy and weighted down in the water, as though it knew the awful burden it carried.

Overall, decided the Halfling hidden under the tarp on the deck, with a grimace, I probably could’ve made a better choice in stowaway vehicles.
She was a small thing, even for Halflings, but at that moment, that was working to her advantage, as her dog was the size of a small bear and therefore needed most of the available space. She herself had smudges of dirt on her pale cheeks, her clothes hung dirty from her frame, and her brazen mane of red hair pooled around her, tangled and greasy.
Beside her, curled up in a fluffy ball that still stood at least half a foot over her, was her Dire Corgi, Floofles. A violent mess of caramel fur and slobber, Freya had been forced to hold onto his tail for most of the trip in order to stop him from wagging it and drawing attention to the fact that there was a giant dog and a sorcerer illegally aboard a slaver’s ship.
Smart decisions were not made here.
As another hoarse cry permeated the air, Freya flinched and forced herself to stay put. The whole voyage had been agony- desperately wanting to do something, but knowing she was no match for the stupid captain with his stupid crew and his stupid, stupid armor.
Floofles licked her cheek encouragingly, and she smiled faintly at him, rubbing his shoulder gently, but didn't dare speak.
He lay his head in her lap, even as squished as they were- fortunately, Freya did not take up too much space at all- and let out a doggy sigh. Freya glanced nervously upward, listening, but it appeared that they had not heard.

She dared to peek under the tarp, one jewel-bright eye peering out and then instantly wishing it hadn’t.
A child lay curled in a fetal position almost two feet from her, with bloody wounds latticing over old scars, and she clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from either whimpering or cursing the slavers colorfully in Hin.
She wasn't too familiar with insults they would understand, but perhaps ones in her own language would be more effective, simply because they didn't know what she was saying.
Her hands tightened to fists as she silently implored the child to get up- get up- but he didn’t move, other than to breathe shallowly, and the clomp of a slaver’s black boots soon came into view. The brute unclipped a whip from his belt in a casual enough way to make Freya's blood boil, and uncurled it lazily, like a snake charmer with a temperamental serpent.
Freya tensed.
She was ready to rocket upward, ready to take down this whole stinking ship, consequences be damned, but-
The captain called a sharp order as the ship docked, and the slaver lowered his whip, hooking it to his belt and setting off to rope the slaves together.

Freya’s eyes fixed on the child, whose chest was just barely rising and falling. Just barely.
I will come back.
In all the hustle and bustle of slaves being gathered together for a sale, Freya dared to whisper a few words in her native language, Hin, to Floofles.
“Ready, buddy?”
He licked her face, and she pulled a slightly disgusted expression, but moved forward to clamber into the saddle strapped to his back, making sure the tarp still covered them. Floofles pricked his large, doe-like ears at the movement, tail sweeping the dust from the boards in anticipation of finally moving.
Hopefully, in all the clamor, no one would notice a suspiciously shifting pile of cloth.
She waited, tense, in the saddle, until she heard the last shuffles leaving the boat. Then she waited several minutes more, before tentatively peering out.
It was deserted.
“Now, Floofles, go!”
As though fired from a gun, her dog shot forward so fast it almost felt like he left her behind, suspended comically in the air.
And then the wind was in her face and throwing her grimy hair back, and Floofles had cleared the bridge connecting the ship to the earth completely. He landed with a heavy thud on the shore, pebbles cricket-jumping at least a foot in the air from the impact. Floofles let out a joyous bark as he barreled down streets, past neat little houses, but Freya hardly noticed the scenery.
Freya would have laughed, would have thrown her head back and grinned at the sky, if the memory of that tortured child wasn't fresh in her mind. As it was, she passed the slavers, thinking of keeping her head down so as not to be identified later, but discarded that idea with a touch of ruefulness. With a dog like Floofles, it probably wouldn’t be hard, but by that time Freya hoped to become powerful enough to take them all down with no problem.
So, Freya flashed as formidable a look as she could muster at the surprised men who scrambled out of Floofles' way, and her Dire Corgi charged onto the city streets before she could rein him in.
But right now, giddiness of her freedom washed over her and she let out a triumphant whoop as Floofles raced down the street, as happy as she was to have escaped captivity.

And then, once she had calmed down a bit from the rush, she realized with a nervous jolt in her stomach that people were…watching her.
Oh. Well.
She felt stupid.
She pulled Floofles to a halt, and he grunted in complaint, but complied.
The townspeople nearest to her shrank away, while others merely gaped at her in awe. No, not at her, at Floofles. Apparently they’d never seen a Dire Corgi before, which struck Freya as odd, but perhaps they were the kind of animal that wasn’t native to these parts.
Well, maybe at her, too. With her windswept hair like a wild red ribbon, unkempt clothes from being trapped on a boat for three days, and having just zipped down the street cackling like a maniac, she probably looked like someone who'd recently escaped from an asylum.
“Um. Hi?” she offered weakly, and Floofles picked his head up, wagging his tail eagerly at the prospect of new friends. “Uh…”
Most of the people cleared away at once, leaving her to breathe a sigh of relief at not having to explain herself, and then looking around curiously for an inn or something to wash up at. And get something to eat, because she wasn't entirely sure Floofles knew the difference between a meal and someone's pet, so...
Plus, she smelled awful, and Floofles was even worse.

(WHOOEEE THAT'S LONG. Sorry xD I got a bit carried away, I think, lol
Oh, and I'm subbed, so no need to ping!)

"LESH ME GO YOU-" The angry, slurred voice was suddenly cut off by an equally angry yet louder ranting in some indistinct language which seemed to be coming from a nearby pine cone.

"Now, now, you too. You should really quiet down. Jerome, you know we are just here until the guards get here to take this guy away." Another man seemed to be telling to the pine cone to convince it to calm down. Which did not seem to work at all. Whether it was because the pine cone did not understand him or if it was simply ignoring him is unknown.

To onlookers, or anyone really, the scene present in the narrow alleyway was unusual to say the least. A well armored, youthful man with a shield on his back leaning against a wall who appeared to be watching over a slovenly drunk while conversing with a very perturbed pine cone that was resting on the drunk's back. Such an odd scene was unlikely to take place ever again, so a small crowd of curious rubberneckers peered around the corners of the buildings on either side of the alley. While unusual for most of the people walking by, this was quite a normal day in the life of Paladin Brom Farenthral.

After leaving a nearby inn he had been staying at while in town. The exact reason why he was here in the first place involved a tip he had heard about the city being a hub for slavers and there was no way he was just going to ignore a chance to save so many people from such a horrible life. Both his oath and his own morals wouldn't allow it! However, his oath and morals made him get sidetracked very quickly after leaving the inn. Glancing down an alley revealed a violently drunken man's face twisted in hideous delight as he repeatedly kicked a much smaller person over and over again. The bear of a man barely got another two kicks in before Brom had tackled him to the ground. The two engaged in a brief struggle before a good headbutt from the younger man left the drunkard dazed. Turning his gaze towards the person who had been taking a beating, he was surprised and more than a little sad to see them gone. Taking out the pine cone known as Jerome and setting it on the drunk's back, it seemed to have the monstrous fellow pinned. Yes, that pine cone was obviously not normal. But it was not just a very angry pine cone speaking an unknown language, but it seemed to have the ability to grow heavy enough to not be moved when placed on someone's back. Only their back, however.

Brom knew absolutely nothing about it besides that. Heck, even the name Jerome was just something he came up with. It was a little reward given to him by someone for his help and he could just not take it since the person was so nice. That would make him seem ungrateful! Besides, angry as the pine cone was, it made the man feel a little less lonely during his travels. Plus, it could be rather useful in scenarios like this. Not particularly useful for anything else, but he just couldn't part with the trinket.

It did not take the guards long to notice the attention the scene had gathered and soon the attacker was in custody. Just how much Brom could count on the local guards was actually a little questionable but he had to trust them to handle a simple drunk. Despite his near endless faith in people, the guards had seemed utterly useless when it came to pointing him in the right direction for slaver activity. The slavers could have just been really good at covering their tracks, right? Either way, it was up to him and him alone to stop this! The only problem was that he had no idea where to begin looking. The docks maybe? No, not there. It would be easy to find if it was there. Well, maybe he should ask around some more? Maybe someone might be willing to tell him something!

Continuing to walk around with muffled yelling coming from his pack, it seemed as though no one had heard of any slavers. Those that did point him towards a lead must have been remembering wrong, because they left him at dead ends and a manure vendor. But he would not be discouraged! Those people had been trying to help him, so he couldn't let them down now! However, all thoughts of finding the slavers went out the window when his hazel gaze found a very short person and a very large dog who seemed to be in rough shape. They might need help! Before another thought could cross his mind, Brom had made his way over to the duo.

"Miss? Do you and your canine companion need assistance? I, Paladin Brom Farenthral will offer any aid I can!" From the looks of it, she seemed to be...a halfing maybe? She was far shorter than him and she didn't seem as sturdy as a dwarf, so a halfing would be his guess. Either way, she seemed to have been through quite an ordeal, judging by her appearance. The same could be said for her dog, which he would have love to pet the head of if the situation wasn't potentially dire. Okay, so he might be jumping to conclusions but what if she really was in trouble! The paladin's kind gaze remained on the suspected halfing as he awaited a response.

((Also, I just want to point out that the townspeople were purposefully not helping Brom. He is just too trusting for his own good lol))

Surrounded by the smell of brine and dirt-ridden people, Avarren knew she was in a shady part of town, but it seemed she was always in a shady part of town when it came to mercenary work. The hood of her cloak was on, and she kept both hands near to her swords as her hazel eyes traced the gazes of passing commoners and lowlifes, watching them from just under the brim of her hood. She was more than familiar with these types, and was ready to protect herself if and when the situation arose. For now, they seemed quiet, or at the very least unwilling to cross a girl in dark leather and a cloak. Her foot kicked a loose pebble skittering a few feet in front of her, and she stopped only to pick it up and pocket it.

Avarren turned left into an alley between two buildings just by the pier, stepping over fish bones and worn nets that had been cast aside as trash. Her memory led her to a fairly plain looking back door, and she knocked twice as she reached it, always keeping one hand on a hilt. The door cracked open and the face of an imposing half-orc glared down at her, built like a wall and filling the door frame. She spoke the name of the man who had given her her contract, and the door opened further, the half-orc stepping aside. Avarren kept an eye on him as she passed, and he returned with a menacing gaze that followed her. The girl could feel it on the back of her skull throughout the entire encounter that followed.

She sat down across from the human at the table counting his towers of coins, lowering her hood. While she had pulled her hair back for the job, she now wore it down, and used one hand to sweep the rest of her hair free from her cloak. She often wore it down in civil situations and negotiations, if only in an attempt to hide the slight point of her ears. Her half-elven lineage was fairly apparent to anyone that had ever seen a wood elf before, or any elves at all, but she did it habitually all the same. One hand remained close to her blade, but the other reached down, withdrawing a bag containing the proof of her efforts, and she slid it across the table. The man checked within, then looked to his pile of coins and pushed some forward with his hands.

The girl ran her free hand across the coins with an intent gaze, stopping at the top and lifting her hazel eyes up towards him. "You're short. You still owe me twenty-five gold." If he had heard her, he made no attempt to show it. With more force this time, she said, "Where's the rest of it?" Again, he made no move to acknowledge her question, giving her a shooing gesture. She looked behind her to see the half-orc opening the door, a clear gesture to leave. She turned back to the man paying her. Her hand slapped down on the table, and she stood, pushing the chair out with a loud scraping noise. "You hear me?! You still owe me!"

Again, the human shooed her away. If he wasn't going to play by the rules, she felt no obligation to either. Her free hand shot out for what remained of her payment, but she would not be getting away with a move like that.

The man grabbed her hand, twisting it at an odd angle and pressing it into the table until she let go of the spare coins she'd been able to grab. His voice came like the sound of rolling thunder as she hissed at the painful angle. "You're not in a position to negotiate. Take your gold and go, half-breed." Avarren wrenched her hand away, bristling. Her nostrils flared and she looked between the man at the table and the one at the door before finally, frustratedly, she swept her lacking payment into a small pouch, clipping it to her belt.

The girl's better judgement told her that it wasn't worth it to put up a fuss about it. She was out twenty-five gold, not her life, and that was one of the most important parts of being a sellsword - in her book at least. She should be happy that she walked away with any money at all. She'd had times, especially when she and Marley had first started their journey, where people refused to pay them at all, and they couldn't do anything about it.

However, her worse judgement reminded her that she had a pebble in her pocket. And, as it so often did, her worse judgement won out. With a flash she sent the pebble hurdling into the base of the man's stacks of gold, toppling the towers he had made. Within less than a few seconds, the half orc had grabbed her by the hair, and he easily wrestled her thin frame back to the door and tossed her out, slamming it behind her.

Avarren pushed herself off the ground and into a sitting position, wincing a little at her new scrapes. That was another employer gone, she knew, but it didn't usually manner. She'd likely be out of town before tomorrow anyway. She touched her fingers lightly to her cheekbone, coming back with small amounts of blood, but she didn't reckon it was too bad, although it was likely noticeable at the very least.

Frustrated, in pain, and hungry, Avarren finally picked herself up, dusting herself off and heading back towards the main area of town, fiddling with her wrist to make sure it still worked alright. Although she did want to catch a bite to eat before she left, it occurred to the girl that she might want to just skip town now, just in case. However, her ears had caught the sound of some kind of commotion further up the street. She could hear a loud voiced man introducing himself, and if she didn't know better, she was sure she'd heard the name 'Farenthral' being thrown around. Wary, but with her curiosity piqued, the young fighter drew closer to the odd scene - the large male, the small halfling and the... giant dog? Her eyes flitted around uneasily. Last time she'd seen something this strange, it had been a street con.

Freya, having gotten caught up in pulling Floofles away from sniffing an ordinary-sized dog (whose tail was currently between its legs, poor thing), didn't see the tower of a human striding towards her until he addressed her.
Freya's chin tilted up- up- up-
Geez, humans are tall.
"Uh, hi-!" she began to chirp, before Floofles got it into his fluffy head that since she was not attacking this guy, he was obviously a person he could mooch attention off of.
Before she could stop him from doing something probably-stupid-and-adorable, his tail began wagging expectantly, the dog lurching forward with fluffy body wiggling ecstatically, and to her horror, sat in front of the young man and licked him.
Desna save us all.
"Oh my gods," she muttered, hidden behind Floofles's copious back, and hauled her dog backwards with a firm hand on his halter. She cast a frown at the dog, who pricked his ears upon catching her eye, but made no move to obey her. Stubborn, strong-willed pup.
So she maneuvered around him, but if he was aware of embarrassing her, his tail just thudded happily against the cobblestone and he licked her face before she could escape.

She turned to the human, who was at least twice her size, and found herself smiling through the faint embarrassment Floofles's antics invoked in her. He seemed nice. Maybe all people were this nice. Maybe, though the crack of the slavers' whips still in her mind's eye said otherwise.
She opened to say hello and yes, she could use the help to reach an inn that wasn't ridiculously overpriced, before a loud voice booming over the hustle and bustle of the crowd that had gathered to ogle Floofles, which Freya had not noticed until now.
Her face flushed dull red, and for a moment, she wondered if the barked command had something to do with her.

But no.
Her stomach dropped as a straggle of bound, filthy people were pushed forward, towards an enormous block that... That a tall, muscular figure resided on, a slighter man at his side.
The first slave, a middle-aged man with a broad chest and chains shackling his enormous wrists, stumbled up onto the block. He straightened, and even from the pebbly ground far below him where Freya stood, she saw the flash of ire in his dark eyes. The defiance.
And...the sale began.

Revulsion gathered in Freya, everything else forgotten. And fury, which clenched hard fists of iron in her belly and her eyes flashed a danger sign.
But she couldn't do anything, and she hated that almost more than the very act she wished she had the power to stop.
Floofles nosed her ear, warm breaths huffing over her neck worriedly, and she raised a hand to stroke his jaw.
Resolve hardened in her stomach and she turned to the young paladin- Brom Farenthral, she believed he'd said- who had approached her, green eyes quiet and fierce.
"Hi," she said briskly. "Freya Cross, at your service. Thank you for your offer, but at the moment all I need to know is as much as you can tell me about the slave trade."
A moment after she spoke, she had the horrible feeling that asking too many questions would draw too much attention before she was powerful enough to not care. But his eyes were bright and clear, and though wariness coiled in her gut, her first instinct was to trust him.
And Floofles liked him.
Freya was of the firm belief that dogs were excellent judges of character.
However... She glanced sideways, wondering if anyone else, who she didn't have such a good feeling about, had heard her words. And a strange sight caught her eye- a humanoid...bird thing, with black-feathered wings and thick gray talons that it stood on, who had joined the crowd in staring at her dog. She blinked, surprised, but still wondering what the heck everyone's deal was with the Dire Corgi. They were as common as ponies where she came from.

Behind her, she heard the clamor of the sale die down as the broad-shouldered slave was sold.
She pursed her lips, hands rising to brace on her hips, though she kept her eyes levelly on Brom's.
Just. Wait.

(sorry, Relicarn, haha. Freya's hardly ever been out of the little farm town she grew up in, in a community of Halflings, so she's never really seen the more exotic races. Heh. Alsooo, I'm not entirely sure how to herd these guys together, so if you've got any ideas, feel free! :P)

While he had been expecting a greeting from the halfling before him, what Brom had not been expecting was a very warm greeting from her odd dire hound as it promptly sat before him. A big tongue trailed slobber across his face in a friendly, canine greeting. Some people would have immediately backed away from the smelly hound in disgust, but the paladin was very much an animal lover and a hearty laugh rumbled from his chest as he instinctively rubbed the beast on its large head. "It's nice too meet you too."

As far back as he could remember, there had always been animals around him. The knight that he knew as a father had a fair amount of land and always had a number of hounds around the property. Brom can remember sneaking over to play with them often, even when he was supposed to be studying or training. So, meeting this, albeit significantly larger, dog did bring back some pleasant memories.

As the dog backed away at the hastening of its halfling owner, the paladin turned his attention to the woman once more. She seemed to be less happy about the hound's actions. The man sent a soft smile her way before letting her know the hound hadn't done anything wrong. "It's okay, it's okay. He's not bothering me at all." However, just as the words were out of his mouth, another voice boomed to cut him off. His hazel gaze shifted around the area, noting the crowd who had gathered to see the woman's four-legged companion before glancing past them to another crowd further away. A block rose above the further crowd, and a figure was being led to its center before many voices began to ring out with increasing numbers.

There was a soft hiss as the paladin gasped in shocked realization as to what was going on. His hands balled into fists and his jaw clenched. The slave trade was going on right now?! And so obviously in the city as well?! Those people he had asked would have definitely known about it right? Had they lied? Maybe they were all apart of it and just keeping quiet for their own gree- The thoughts stopped instantly as he caught himself. No, he couldn't lose hope in people. Maybe they were just lying to protect their families. A group of slavers would no doubt do something like that to keep people quiet. He couldn't allow his own light to go out if he was supposed to protect the light of others.

His body was about to lurch forward to instinctively stop what was going on but the voice of the halfling woman caused him to halt after a single step. His gaze moved to meet hers as she introduced herself and asked for information on the slave trade. There was a good look in her eyes, fierce and strong. This Freya was certainly making a good first impression. While he would normally go charging in without a second thought, having someone else along would increase the odds of success.

"My apologies, as I can't tell you much aside from the fact that they are based in the city and it is currently in progress right over there." The man said. "However, I have come here to stop it. I know we are strangers, but may I ask you to assist me in stopping this atrocity."

Travis took a deep breath, thumbing a small folded piece of paper Vi had given him. Their ship had recently docked a few days ago and the Drow planned to stay quite a while peddling his less desirable wears in the seedy sections of town. While his friend ran the temporary stores it was his job to scout new places to buy from and trade with, the paper he held having a list of old friends and contacts. The paper was already getting soft and worn from his fidgeting and several times he had to force himself to stop in order to keep it legible.

That was easier said than done though when so many people kept sending him glances. He briefly wished he’d cats a concealing charm to hide his horns before going into town and just make himself seem elvish. He heard someone whisper demon and crumpled the paper in his hand. Taking a deep breath he picked up his pace and turned down a few alley ways.

The only good thing about darker parts of town was that they often drew odder races, creating a place he wouldn’t stand out in. Though saying that was the only good thing wasn’t quite fair. Many old occult stores had the best books and if he got lucky some had blackmarket artifacts. Not that he was pro blackmarket, it just happened to be a fantastic place to get information hidden from normal people. There were of course still many bad things.

As he turned the corner he couldn’t help but grimace, seeing a line of what seemed to be slaves. Of course this place still had them, it made sense even if it was frankly awful. He took a quick step back before spotting a huge dog across the way, a Dire Corgi if he was correct. Odd for one to be here but then again it was accompanied and probably a pet or familiar. Odder was the fact the folks by it seemed to be preparing to actually act against the traders. In his experience, people who worked slaving industries weren’t ones you try and fight with.

Travis swore softly, stepping back into the alley a bit but unable to fully retreat. He had the nagging feeling he had to stay and witness whatever was about to happen. His hand wandered into his pocket and grabbed his small dagger. Of all time for him to find something like this it had to be a day he left his quarter staff with Vi.

(Sorry for late response!! I somehow lost the ping but now I’m subscribed and ready to go!)

Avarren watched the dog as it heartily introduced itself to the man, feeling a sense of apprehension coming over her about being even this close to the animal. Her family hadn't been allowed to have a large dog. The landowners were scared their serfs would poach game off the forests, so the only friendly canines she had ever met were small breeds, anklebiters at best.

Another one of the families she'd known as a kid had had this small, scruffy beast they called Connor. He was sweet as honey with everyone, it seemed... except Avarren. The dog would play with anyone, running, jumping, rolling around in the grass, but all he did with Avarren was bark at her from a distance. He kept the rat problem under control though, and that was enough for the girl.

Her train of thought paused. The landowners had large dogs, she remembered. Loud, fast, big hunting dogs. A chill ran down her spine at the thought of them, their eyes piercing through the darkness behind her, furred bodies black against the moonlight.

The girl turned her head quickly to the sound of the booming voice further away, quickly recognizing the tone and sight of a slave auction. Numbers began rattling off from the crowd at the first lot, and she noticed a visible change in the demeanor of both the human and the halfling. Her eyes shifted about quickly, both hands drifting towards her swords and settling tensely upon their hilts. She knew those kinds of people - with a fire in their eyes like they were going to change the world... She couldn't say she blamed them in the slightest, - she didn't - but slavery was an apparently lucrative business in these parts, and rabble-rousers never lasted long interfering with lucrative businesses. Avarren was prepared for someone to do something stupid, and was at least partially relieved to see neither had jumped in immediately.

No, she definitely couldn't blame them. Avarren of all people was no stranger to the chattle mentality, and couldn't ignore the twinge of guilt standing by as innocent people were sold off. Her family at least could not be sold like commodities. These poor souls, well... she could only imagine. If living as a serf had been bad, there were only worse experiences for slaves.

The frown spreading across her face was that of her struggling with her better and worse judgement. One told her that it wasn't her problem, the other told her she should do something, but she wasn't quite sure which told her which. Avarren cursed herself under her breath, weaving through the crowd until she was closing in on the halfling, human, and the dog.

The darkly dressed girl kept a respectfully wary distance between her and the beast. After all, a little dog barking at her was easily brushed off. This monster? She could only hope that she wasn't putting herself in real danger by doing this.

"Hey, halfwits," she called out to the two, leaning in and drawing her voice more to a hissing whisper. "Could you be any more conspicuous? Look where you're standing for crying out loud." Her hazel eyes indicated the auction - as well as the crowd of people all fixated on the halfling's animal companion - with a quick glance each. To be perfectly honest, she still wasn't sure this wasn't an elaborate street con. They were definitely pulling a lot of attention. She felt a small drip of blood from her scraped cheek and brushed it off with the side of her hand, watching the two intently, and of course watching the dog as well. She knew she shouldn't get involved, especially when it came to untrustworthy strangers and their goals, but here she was.

"I know these types," she said, "Unless you've got a really good plan, you're just asking for a whole lot of trouble from the wrong kind of people."

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