• Closed • [Bounty] Wine and Groan

Seated on the shores of Lake Lovalus, Rharne serves as the home of the Lighting Knights, the Thunder Priestesses, and the Merchant's guild. This beautiful trade city is filled with a happy and contented people who rarely need an excuse to party.

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Rorom
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Posts: 370
Joined: Tue Sep 06, 2016 10:54 pm
Race: Biqaj
Profession: Captain
Renown: 195
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[Bounty] Wine and Groan

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14th of Saun, Arc 718


Rorom peeled the flier off of the door of a local tavern. The alleged criminal, Comb, had been stealing wine and was suspected of smuggling it out of Rharne. It was a curious crime, the sailor felt, and indicated that the person involved knew of the valuable cargo before his plan to steal and smuggle it out came to fruition. The fact that his name was known to the authorities suggested that the rightful owner of the wine potentially had given access to him, and by process of elimination through whatever method deducted that Comb was the culprit.

In any event, the man was known to be good with a knife, so abducting him might take more than simple skullduggery and deception. Good thing then, that Rorom had been working on his fitness lately. He doubted a slap in the face with a fish would turn aside an assault with knives.

After peeling the notice off the door, he hurried down the street, to find this owner of the wines. Perhaps the Rosmerta sisters would have more clues as to his location.

He was described as a straw-haired, scraggly man with green eyes. It wasn't a great enough distinction that it narrowed the search to the eye of a needle, but it was something to start with. The sisters better have more to go on, or they'd have to invest in more paper for fliers to spread the word about their bounty.

Rorom had a feeling he was in for a difficult time. Who knew what kind of crowd this Vincent Comb had fallen in with?
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Rorom
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Joined: Tue Sep 06, 2016 10:54 pm
Race: Biqaj
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Renown: 195
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Re: [Bounty] Wine and Groan

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The first person Rorom thought to consult about the miscreant, was of course his 'friend', Mirq Zy'Azour. The man was a tramp, and something of a miscreant himself. So Rorom supposed he was as good a contact as any to form a basis for the investigation. The man would find a way to insinuate himself into the pursuit of Rorom's mark. That was fine, so long as they could claim the credit and reward together, splitting it.

Problem there was, Rorom wasn't sure if fair was in the tramp's vocabulary.

Rorom ruminated on how he might make headway without Mirq's input. He'd need the man's connections and silver tongue to tag and bag this catch. Yet, the less he relied on Mirq, the better. One didn't lean on a rail that was liable to give way at a moment's notice.

His path took him through the Earth Quarter, all the way down toward the Dust. In his time in Rharne, he'd taken to this part of the city. In a manner of speaking, it'd grown on him. He hadn't been robbed. Part of the trick there was appearing not to have anything worth robbing while bearing weapons for defense. It didn't hurt that Rorom was tall as well.

Rorom arrived at Mirq's favorite hangout, finding him flipping a coin beneath an awning on the side of the street. His face was dark, downcast as if in deep thought. Thinking of his next big scam. The fisherman sighed, tapping the ground with his staff. At that, Mirq looked up. His face brightened into a false expression of mirth. "Rorom! Well met my friend." He spoke in Rakahi. The fisherman replied in kind.

"Indeed, how does the day find you?" A few people walking through the alleyway gave them sideways looks, scowling a their strange language. A few slurs of 'Fish Breath' or 'Captain Tuna' were hurled in their direction, but Rorom ignored them.

"Well enough."

Here, Rorom attempted a bit of subterfuge, thinking he might slip his agenda under Mirq's radar. He had little hope that he'd succeed at that, but felt it was worth a try. For the sake of keeping his friend out of trouble and harm's way, of course. "I wonder if you know how I can get some starlight wine for cheap?"

"Starlight?" Mirq quirked an eyebrow, then whistled appreciative of his friend's newfound taste. "Hosting a high brow party are we? That stuff isn't easy to find. I think it's the Rosemerta sisters who brew that vintage."

"Yes..." Rorom murmured, "Er... well let me know if you hear where I can find any?"

"Right." Said Mirq with a straight face, then sprung the next bit on him with a mischeivous smile, "And I'll let you know if I see that Comb fellow. I heard he has some in store."

Rorom paused for a few bits, then sighed in resignation. His attempt at subterfuge an obvious failure. "Well, so you know about the bounty?"

"Bounty?" Mirq teased, "Why, whatever are you on about, mate?"

"Enough with the coy, Mirq. You know more about this, so go ahead and spill the beans, as well as your conditions." Rorom's mouth twisted into a grimace.

"Right." Mirq said, looking one way then the other down the street. He brought Rorom in close with an arm on the fisher's shoulder, and whispered to him, "I know where Vincent Comb is, as it happens, as well as his stash. But in order for this plan to work, we'll need something to transport the wine. A rowboat will do, even."

Rorom knew very well that Mirq knew about his rowboat. "What's the plan, then?" The fisher asked.

Mirq walked Rorom down the street, keeping his arm around the man's shoulder as he conspired with him, "I'll be straightforward here, as I know you're a trustworthy person." Rorom smirked a mirthless smirk. At least Mirq knew he could count on the other man. If only he knew Mirq was so. But beggars couldn't be choosers. "You know that shanty village near the coast of Lovalus, where the Dust Quarter meets the wall and the river? There's a drop-off dug into some cache around there. That's where I hear Vincent keeps his stash."

"I'm familiar with the area. So I'll hop on down there and bring my rowboat for the ride?"

Mirq snickered, patting Rorom on the back, "There's more to it than that. Everyone between the Dust Quarter all the way to the Glass Quarter knows that Vincent is a wanted man. You don't suppose that fact is lost on him either?"

Rorom's face darkened. He didn't much like this skullduggery. Things were much more cut and dry when on the open sea, fishing for mackerel.

"There's a signal that we use around these parts, when we want to get in touch with a seller of hot goods."

"By hot, I suppose you mean stolen contraband?"

Mirq snickered and shushed Rorom, "I mean hot goods. Vincent's personal signal is for one to wear a strip of yellow velvet on their breast. You'll need to pick up that peice of cloth someplace. Then, once you row on down to the drop-off, you'll have to give him the keyword, and let him know you have the coin to buy his merchandise on you. He won't deal with you if there isn't an immediate promise of payoff. The keyphrase is, 'Nights open up!'."

Rorom shrugged. That the fugitive would have conditions to meet with anybody made sense. Rorom would be paranoid too, if he was so wanted by the authorities. Though he wondered if this Vincent wasn't as likely to rob him as deal with him. Nevertheless, he trusted Mirq's judgment.

"Fine, then. I'll see to all that. I suppose you'll want a finders fee for all of this information?"

"No fee, friend. Consider this a complimentary token of my friendship." This warmed Rorom's heart. It did.

About three breaks later, Rorom had gotten his rowboat from the harbor, and sailed down the canals, through to the Dust Quarter. He'd bought a small strip of velvet cloth, dyed yellow, which he pinned to his breast. It'd set him back a golden nel.

Before too long, he found the Drop-off point. There was nobody to be found out there. A nondescript shack, which Rorom figured must be concealing a dug out cache as well as the fugitive Vincent Comb.

He lifted himself out of the rowboat, tying it up with a bit of rope to a lamp post adjoining the canal.

Rorom walked up to the shack, and rapped the door with the tip of his quarterstaff. "Nights, open up!"

The visor in the door slid open and a pair of wild brown eyes peered out, "You don't look like a knight! Get lost, fool. This is my treasure."

Rorom was dumbfounded for a moment, before he realized he had been duped. "No, not a knight. I'm here to buy your stock..."

He almost didn't get the words out before the door was busted outward, knocking Rorom on his rear. The fisherman rolled to a standing position, regaining balance as Vincent came in to attack him.

As the advert had said, he weilded a knife with competence. Rorom took up a fending position with his staff, trying to keep his opponent at bay with the end of it. He was successful for a bit, but then the man came forward with his knife, twisting his body to get past the guard of Rorom's staff.

The knife cut into the sleeves of Rorom's old jute shirt, but grazed his skin. As Vincent committed to the attack, the fisherman pivoted his stance, bringing the staff down on his opponent's head. The blow stunned him, but wasn't enough to put him out of commision. He made a last ditch effort to stab at Rorom, at which the fisherman parried with his staff, sliding his hand upward to try and grapple with the knife blade. Meanwhile,his other hand held onto the quarter staff.

He managed to get a grip on the blade. At that point, Rorom twisted the blade toward the back of Vincent's hand, until he lost his grip on it. Rorom, knife in bleeding hand, threw the blade into the canal. Vincent stood, dumbfounded for a moment, which was enough of a stall for Rorom to knock him in the head with a staff thrust.

Stunned, brought low, and unable to fight back now, Rorom began walking toward the shack. It was then, he saw Mirq along with a few rough-looking luggers, carrying crates of wine out of the shack and loading them into his rowboat. Rorom saluted them. Their faces were hard and unkind. Mirq waved at Rorom, though, greeting him with a smile of his own. "Good meeting, Rorom. Care to lend us a hand with these crates? I'll have one of my men tie up your quarry for you."

Rorom nodded eagerly. For the next half break he helped the men sort through the merchandise, then move it out of the drop-off and into his rowboat. One of the lugs tied up Vincent Comb with some rope, and signalled farewell to Vincent. They both ignored Rorom.

"Thank you for your help, Mirq. I didn't know you planned to be here when I came for him..."

Mirq smirked as he jumped into the wine-laden rowboat. "Of course my friend. Be a good man and help me untie the rope..."

Rorom did as he was asked. "Don't forget our friend, Vincent." Mirq nodded in the trussed-up fugitive's direction.

The fisher nodded, and went back to retrieve his quarry.

He didn't get five yards from the rowboat, before he heard a wooden thunk against the side of the canal. It was then he knew he'd been had. He turned over his shoulder to see Mirq making speed away from the drop-off. Rorom, forgetting for the moment about Vincent, ran after him. "What! Mirq, you tramp! Get back here, where do you think you're going?"

"Apologies, Rorom my mate. This wine is far too precious to sell for a mere 150 golden nels." Mirq's laughter bubbled in echoes across the alley. Rorom grumbled as he ran along the canal. But Mirq was a fast rower. Who'd have thought he was that good at rowing? At least the man had left a bit of rope at the end of the pole for Rorom. He'd use that to drag Vincent back to the bounty office.

Later that night, he brought Vincent Comb in to justice. When asked about the stolen merchandise, Rorom shrugged. He felt bad about the deception, but knew that to admit his part in it would possibly be to incriminate himself.

He left the guardhouse 200 nels richer, anyway.
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Kasoria
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Joined: Sun Apr 24, 2016 3:34 am
Race: Human
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Re: [Bounty] Wine and Groan

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Review Rewards

Rorom

Points awarded: 10xp

Knowledge:
Intelligence: Key-phrases and signals.
Polearm (Quarterstaff): Fending stance.
Polearm (Quarterstaff): Vertical Guard
Polearm (Quarterstaff): Disarming with a free hand while retaining grip.
Endurance: Taking a cut in order to disarm the blade trying to kill you.
Detection: The sound of a rowboat being stolen

Loot: Minus one gold nel for the ribbon, bye-bye Mr. Rowboat, and that leaves you with 199gn to enter into your Ledger

Renown:
10 points awarded, for doing the "noble thing" and bringing the scrote back alive

Injuries:
Shallow cut on palm, not too dangerous but bleeds heavily thanks to its location; 1-4 trials resting it, after washing and dressing, should take care of you; leave it more than 10 trials before getting it seen to, though, and you risk infection

Notes:
This was a fun little thread, if a little rushed. I loved the twist and I'm alreayd hoping to see way more of that rascally bastard Mirq! However, while it clipped along quite nicely, some of it seemed a little... quick. You went from chatting to Mirq to scrapping with Comb in a paragraph, and I can't help but this a competent knifeman wouldn't have let you disarm him by grabbing his own blade by the SHARP bit!

Also, why is Rorom now a bounty hunter? What motivated him? Where is the genesis for this? It might be in other stories and I'm missing it; if so, try to reference them, even a little. Tell the WHOLE story, not just the juicy bits.

Your review request is here. Also, please indicate on your request thread that this has been reviewed by using the button below (just add my name at the end). Thanks!

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word count: 329

Appearance

  • Habitually dressed in boots, breeches, tunic, and cloak.
  • Long hair down to the shoulders, usually swept back or in a rough ponytail
  • Prefers a trimmed beard and mustache

Mutations

  • Star-shaped scar on each palm.
  • Air around him seems to thicken and become more turbulent the closer a person gets to him.
  • Pitch black eyes, from tear ducts to the pupils.
  • Arms from shoulder to palms appear as if heavy chains are wrapped around them.
  • Wisps of black smoke constantly drifts around his body, forming the rough outline of a cloak. The more agitated he becomes, the thicker the layers get.
    Note: the torch-motif medallion Kasoria wears negates the visible effects of this mutation.
  • Roughly circular pattern across breastbone, constantly transforming, and resettling
  • Sunken, closed eyes in the back of hands; they open when stared at
  • Skin takes on the tone and quality of whatever material he's just Transmuted
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