RP:The Right Turn in the Wrong Neighbourhood
Synopsis:: While guiding Celaeno to the Great Cenril Library, Trent finds himself ambushed by an organized group of beggars.
Date:: 01/24/2018
Merchant Street
Here appears to be the beginning of the western half of Merchant Street, and already it seems to be too busy for its own good. To the north, a secure-looking stone building sets, with two short, goblinlike creatures stationed at the heavy wooden doors. Their gazes simultaneously fall upon you, and each reaches with one gnarled hand for the hilt of a sword at its side. Somewhere inside, there must be something of great value-gold perhaps, or gems. Such a heavily guarded building can only be a bank. From the south, aromas of food drift toward your nostrils, combining with the other scents of the road to form a pungent odor..
Trent hadn’t been able to keep himself focused lately. With Meri trapped somewhere he could not go, and the mysteries of the time elapsed, the man was just short of giving up on life entirely. A few times now a venture to Schezerade had been made, yet there were no more signs given by the gauntlet worn on his left hand. The library was still blocked off for his perusal, and every attempt to seek audience with someone who could grant him entrance had been met with refusal. Things were just not looking up for the blonde haired man. Work had managed to find him briefly; A silver lining in the sea of blackened cloud. It just so happened that the dockmaster in Cenril needed a few more hands, and despite Trent’s tendency to disappear, he was desperate. With a hefty sum of gold in his satchel, Trent made path for the bank, only to stop just outside its large guarded doors. Something had flashed before his eyes- A memory? It was swift, unable to be deciphered, but his attention fell to a specific spot on the well traversed city road as if it held some sort of significance.
Celaeno had been on a quest of a whole other sort throughout Cenril as she walked down the recently very familiar road. Her nose was wrinkled with evident frustration as she looked over the familiar buildings. The guards before the bank, the candy cane pinstripes of the bakery doors. Her shoulders were starting to ache from carrying her ever weighed down pack throughout Cenril looking for that damned library and screwing up her steps whenever she found an unfamiliar corner, only to end up at the same place she started. She lets out an exasperated sigh, her perusal of the same buildings making her neglect the people bustling around her. Trent might have wound around her with the rest of them, but his abrupt halt and the young mage's wandering attention would make her collide right into him if he didn't get his wits about him first.
Trent was lost in a waking reverie, a memory, a sense of familiarity. He would not see Celaeno, and as she would not see him, it was inevitable that the pair would collide. Trent was slow to snap back to the present, and in his place, that metal appendage would be the first to react. The talon like fingers quickly reached out and took Celaeno by the front of her shirt, lifting upward as it he were some sort of school yard bully ready to deck its victim for some unfounded slight. Thankfully, the thing only had so much of the male’s body to work with, and would have some resistance before any sort of damage could be done. Trent looked surprised and soon after, shocked. Quite apologetic, even. The right hand lifted and took that gauntlet by the wrist, “Let go you infernal thing.” he commanded; And just like that, the fingers released their grip. It took a moment or two, but Trent finally recognized the woman he had accidentally accosted. “Oh… hello. I am so sorry. It must have been reflex.”
Celaeno let out a yip of surprise as the self-aware armor grabbed her collar. Her snap back to reality was a bit faster than Trent-proper's and he would find her hitting at the silver gauntlet with one of her own, the metals clanking together drawing more than a few eyes. When Trent interfered with his possessed appendages apparent assault, she nodded along, some hair coming loose of her braid in the process. "Indeed! It was a harmless bump. Like I could handle fisticuffs with him," she said toward his left arm as if it were listening. When it let go, she tugged down on the hem of her shirt, on the front of her robes, where that arm's manhandling had wrinkled them. "Much appreciated, Mister Trent. I'm afraid more blame is on me. I should have watched where I was going better." Registering the taller man took hardly even a glance, as his cursed armor had made enough of an impression with its abrupt greeting for them both. "Nice to see you again, your frustratingly fascinating little friend included. How has your search gone? What brings you to Cenril?"
Trent slipped the armored hand into the pocket of his jacket for the safety of those around him, one shoulder lifting with the woman’s question. “It has gone not so well. I am beginning to think that the words spoken to me some time back were for my benefit- That I should just give up looking and move on with life.” The mystery burned in his brain and felt like an itch he could not scratch- It was something he felt compelled to deal with. Meri’s words over a year ago still sat heavy upon his heart, though. The dangers that were involved, the things they had seen, she had warned him not to pursue this cause any more. For the most part, he had listened, but there were times when things just seemed to fall into place. “I am for work.” he finally replied regarding the half-elf’s inquiry as to his reason for being in the city. “I have been lucky to find that the docks are always needing dockhands to load and unload cargo. And so, after a good day’s work, I am intending to make a deposit to the the bank.” His gaze drifts momentarily to the doors to the north. “And of you? How have you been? Do you frequent Cenril often?”
Celaeno frowned in sympathy at his plight. "Wise words, I'm sure, considering the nature of the writing you've found out so far. However...I'm sure ignoring it also means it's bound to catch up with you right as you're moving on anyways. It seems prudent to investigate while you can so you can rebuild uninterrupted." She couldn't very well talk with her own numerous investigations hanging everywhere while she tried tackling them at once to varying degrees of success, but she wouldn't go into anymore detail on that unless asked. His question of Cenril has her nose wrinkling a moment, that earlier frustration remembered before she offers an apologetic smile. "Only recently, actually. I too will be starting work soon, at that bakery over there once I straighten a few things out. Of late I have been attempting to find the library here in Cenril and failing miserably..." Her eyebrows go up as something he said in the past comes to mind. "Oh! Perhaps after you're done with your deposit, you might show me? You said you have been there before, right? It could be a good momentary diversion, unless you have other errands. Then I wouldn't want to keep you from them."
Trent put forth the effort to actually smile. A little. Just enough to put on a friendly face as he contemplated her words. “Spoken like someone with experience.” he comments on the earliest statement. His steeled gaze shifts to the shop to the south; He had thought something seemed a little different with this street. A new bakery? Something he will need to visit sometime in the future, he thinks. “Well, then I wish you the best of luck there. I am sure it will be a fun job.” The request asked was met with very little resistance, the blonde man only taking a moment to think before he gave the woman an answer. “The library? Yes, I can lead you there. I can wait to make my deposit. I am still a little wary of this bank, anyhow. After all, they lost my previous funds without any sort of explanation.” The tone in which he spoke conveyed his annoyance with the teller he once spoke with. He was still a little sore. “Follow me, it’s this way.” he said, heading off to the east.
Celaeno 's nose wrinkles in firm agreement with him. "Well that's rude. They should at least reimburse you for them if they're the ones who lost them." As she followed, she cast her eyes back at the bank, her mouth pressing into a line as she curiously pondered how exactly one used a bank...she had read about them, to be sure, but never personally stored funds in them before. She adjusted her pack on her shoulders, her assortment of pots and pans jangling along with her heavy steps. A jingle of something in the side pocket of her pack and the glint of shiny metal, from the shorter half-elf at least if Trent still kept his own armor tucked in his pocket, catches the eye of a vagrant leaning in an alley as they pass by: a lanky man whose straggly hair and worn attire had seen better days and stunk of a bit too much whisky. He withdraws back into his shadowy gap, though, perhaps losing interest? Meanwhile, back to Cela, she sticks as close as comfortable to Trent's back, being sure to memorize the turns they take. At one point she even feels around her pack for the notebook she keeps in the side that didn't jingle, and scribbles notes as they walk. "So that's where I should have turned! Confounded city has too many twists," she fumes beside her guide.
Beloy Street
Beloy Street continues east and west, its hard, smooth surface allowing for the easiest of travels for any conveyance. Several horsed riders pass along the way, the proud gold and green standards adorning their mounts and shields ample evidence that they are town volunteers, obligingly sworn to keeping the peace. Residents and visitors scurry about, some nodding a friendly greeting, while others quicken their pace upon spying strangers. A street sign hangs above a southerly fork here, proclaiming it to be Memorial Avenue. A band of ruffians is here.
Trent had stuck both hands in his pockets for the walk, hood lifted to keep his head somewhat warm. It wasn’t overly cold today, but there was a bit of a bite in the air. His boots sloshed along the melted snow, eyes glued to the road as instinct lead him along without much incident. “That was my initial reaction. Perhaps I could have said it in a nicer tone, as the guards were quick to remove me from the premises. I think I will speak to whoever it is that is in charge, some time.” Looking up to avoid running into a couple passersby, Trent notes the brief appearance of a scraggly looking man peering out from the alleyway. The stranger was looked over, but not dwelled upon for long as Celaeno’s rattling caused the leading male to look back in her direction. “Yeah, Cenril’s a bit of a maze. A lot of dead ends or side streets. It took me some time to memorize its layout. This street in particular has been a good one for me.” He bobs his head to a building to the west- The Whaler’s Bar. “Have shared a few drinks in there before. Nice place if they’re still run by the same people.” Once they hit Beloy street, they would take another turn, again to the east. “So what are you hoping to find in the library? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”
Celaeno ::“Ah, I stopped there recently. Despite the crowd, their tea was good. I didn’t tarry for too long, though. It’s not exactly somewhere I fit in very well.” She continued strolling along, trailing behind Trent as they came to the cliffs. The bustle of the streets seemed to thin somewhat, not entirely, the further they went. When buildings stopped rising up in either side of them, Celaeno’s slightly pointed ears pricked at a soft thump, as if someone had dropped from a roof. Though when she glanced over her shoulder, she found nothing amiss aside from a barefoot young girl in braids walking the same direction as them with a leashed little dog at her heel. “Well, I want to know where every library in Lithrydel is if I’m going to live in it. I may not need to know anything now, I will certainly need to later. It’s a precaution in the pursuit of my studies.”
Trent ‘s guard raised a little as they hit the outskirts of the city. It was an odd place to have a library situated, but the owner must have had their reasons. The soft thud had garnered the human’s attention as well, steel blue peering out from beneath his hood in the direction behind them only to find nothing but a young girl and her dog. Everything seemed normal- Although, the fact that she was barefoot was a little alarming. That could not be all too warm. Trent turned again, this time to the north along the vista, his head bobbing to point out the building not far along down the path. “Well, this one’s not too far, as you can see. It’s a bit out of the way when you think about it, but it’s most likely to be quiet. I can’t imagine too many, outside of the locals, that know of its existence.” His pace slowed a little, that cautious gaze shifting from one side of the road to the other. “What was it that you studied, again?”
Celaeno 's attention was stolen by the building, particularly the unique way the entrance was modeled. "It certainly looks fearsome. I wouldn't suspect if for a library. Even more reason to explore inside!" She beams toward the mouth, her weight shifting from boot to boot in her eagerness. She doesn't dart off quite, yet, though as she moves to stand beside Trent rather than behind him since he had shown her the destination. "A few things, mostly runes and dark arts. I'll have to renew my fire tricks and barriers sometime soon though..." She trailed off as the child's dog started barking toward them, charging over and dragging the girl with it. It was unfortunate indeed that she lacked any boots to speak of, her toes showing dark at their tips with red blisters starting to form. She skids to a halt, slipping across the slush as she pulls back on her pet's leash. It's enough that the child yips and starts to fall, her arms flailing about. The child and her little dog's antics did garner quite a bit of attention, enough that a few of the thin crowd started to close in, including a rail-thin, scraggly-haired gentleman who smelled of too much whisky behind Celaeno and Trent.
Trent smiled at the girl’s enthusiasm, head tilted forward in agreement to her first observation. The words regarding her studies would be ignored- Not out of disinterest, but because they would be interrupted by the barking dog and its young master. Trent’s hands left his pockets and he quickly darts forward and falls to one knee, catching the girl before she fully fell. The dog would growl toward the human, but Trent kept his stern resolve as he locked eyes with it, trying to intimidate the thing. “You should be careful, little one.” he says to the girl with a smile. The lack of footwear was then addressed as he asked, “Where are your shoes? One can catch their death in this weather. You should not be out here like that.” The growing crowd was looked upon curiously, that thin man soon spotted and observed. Was it the same guy from before? Something felt off.
Celaeno lets out a sigh of relief at Trent's quick reaction, squatting down to join him and the child. She frowns, nodding along with Trent's remarks. "Where are your parents? Are you lost?" The dog gave a final bark and bristle of fangs before Trent's glare had him skittering back to between his human's legs. "Ooh, ya got a pretty hand too." The girl bites her lip, glancing first at her toes, wiggling them to make sure they still moved. Surely enough all but the darkest pinky toe did and she glances up at both the strangers with a sad, almost apologetic blue eyes. "Don't got none, 'aven't earned 'em yet. Sorry." At the sorry, the whisky-drenched rail seemed to perk up, slicing his hand through the air in a silent signal. The small group of concerned citizens that had been drawing closer to the sad scene suddenly closed in on Trent and Celaeno. A man with a large gut and two women in ragged dresses would attempt tackling Trent to the ground to pin him and pad down his pockets for any valuables that might be in there. One of the women, with a barmaid's apron, would focus on attempting to get at his gauntlet, to snake up his sleeve and unhook it. A boy that looked no older than Celaeno would go after her, the child dropping her dog's leash and diving to help him attempt to divest the young mage of her pack and shiny silver gauntlets as well. It all seemed very coordinated, practiced enough that they had done it before, though their movements were the same clumsiness of beggars banding together rather than the professionals that had operations in the port city.
Trent knew something had to have been up, but the quick surprise tackle- he wasn’t exactly prepared for that. So far in his time back in Lithrydel, the human had only been in one real altercation that caused him to draw blade, and that was when the lycans invaded Cenril. His combat abilities, even then, were not well defined. He fell backward and was immediately pinned by the fat man and his cohorts, trying his hardest to writhe and wriggle from their grasp. For the most part, Trent didn’t carry too much on his person,so luckily the trio wouldn’t find much in his pockets. One of the women however did manage to find his badge, and she was quite eager to hold it up and get a better look at the thing. Whatever was on the face of it seemed to startle her though, and she dropped it immediately. The woman that was going for his gauntlet would be the catalyst to set off the man and what lie inside; For as soon as the sleeve was lifted the thing seemed to come to life. It would first push the apron wearing woman back with such force that she would slide through the slush a good two or three feet. This afforded the human just enough space to lean upward while the sentient hand lunged for his face. There was a vibrant blue aura that pulsed through the appendage, humming in tune with the amulet hanging from Trent’s neck. The clawed digits sank into flesh, piecing the fat man’s cheeks and skull; A deathly vice-like grip squeezing his head in an attempt to crush it like some kind of feeble melon. No deaths, Trent reminded himself. Trent pushed himself upward and pulled fat man along, and as soon as she was standing, that arm swung out and away from Trent’s body, causing the fat man to tumble like a ragdoll when the vice-like grip released. The human turned toward Celaeno and her attackers now, his breathing beginning to grow heavy. It seemed that the pulsing of both amulet and gauntlet were singing the same tune as each heavy breath.
Celaeno 's combat skills were not something to be admired on a good day, less so when she was caught by surprise and pinned on her back after the lanky boy managed to tug her pack off her shoulders. The young girl's fingers were stiff from being in the cold so long, not as bad as her toes but it made unfastening the leather straps holding Celaeno's gauntlets on difficult. As Trent's arm gained a will of its own and sent the aproned woman flying back, Cela managed to fling the girl off her arm, though the child scurried back to try and finish her job and earn those shoes. The teenager helping her shakes his head and jerks his chin to the Celaeno's pack sitting next to him as he holds down the flailing half-elf by her elbows, crouching over her. It was difficult for the woman to find much leverage against the boy, him being surprisingly strong for his build. She manages to fling her head up to butt it against his jaw. The sudden strike made the boy bite down on his tongue too hard and he grabs his mouth right as Trent's talons dig into the large man's face. The sight makes both women scream and run away while the man shrieks and moans, holding the side of his head with his meaty palm, blood slipping between his fingers. The whisky-drenched man's eyes near bug out of his head and he abandons the mission entirely, fleeing down the road and vaulting up to the nearest roof, like a monkey might. That only left the girl rummaging through Celaeno's pack, reaching for whatever she could. Cela, unfortunately, had been left disoriented by her little maneuver with the boy, the world still swimming as she regains her orientation.
Trent watched the strange money-man make his exit, one brow lifted in surprise. How could such a man be capable of a feat like that? There was no time to ponder however, as the women rushed past him, along with their big bellied friend. The young girl was stared upon from behind as she rifled through Celaeno’s belongings, the human taking his time to sling the satchel off of his back and dive right into it. When he found what he was looking for, he made a few steps forward and seized the young girl by the back of her shirt, yanking her back with an almost violent force- yet it was not with the silver appendage, surprisingly. His hand then fell to her shoulder and he would spin her around, his eyes meeting hers. “Do you see? Those rodents. They left you to fend for yourself. Were I someone without compassion, I could easily kill you right here.” he spoke, cold and with authority. “Those cretins, they don’t care about you. Only your nimble little hands. Take this.” A hefty wallet full of coin was placed in between the girl’s hands, his entire day’s pay. “I want you to go buy shoes. And food. And use what’s left to find a carriage out to Gualon. There is a orphanage there. Go there. Do not share this with those rats. Do not come back to this city. Do you understand me?” The girl nodded slowly, looking like she were about to cry. Without a word she grabbed her dog’s leash, and headed off back to the inner city. Whether she would listen of not would some day be seen. Trent picked up his badge, then leaned over to help Celaeno to her feet. “Are you alright?”
Celaeno groaned as she sat up, stabilizing herself by leaning back against her arm as she glances around, assessing her situation. She was only dimly aware of Trent's orders toward the girl as the teenager fled with the cohorts of their aspiring gang. That badge caught her eye, though, still sitting on the ground with Trent's name across it. She squints, deciphering the crest, the letters as the world comes back into focus. F and K...? Why did that seem familiar? It was about the time Trent sent the girl running off with his pay that the half-elf's groggy mind sparked a hint of recognition. She takes Trent's hand when he offered it and drew herself upright with it. She looks him over, as if examining him for the first time, her mouth pursing as she nods. "Yes, I'm fine." Some of the contents of her bag had been tossed about while digging for her valuables: her pot, her small kettle. She sighs as she bends to retrieve them and slip them back in. "Mister Trent...forgive my prying, but in your research about the Dark Immortals, I'm assuming you've done it, have you read anything about a group called the Forsaken Knights?"
Trent looked the half-elf over for an signs of injury, obviously seeing nothing that would cause him concern as she verified that she were okay. There was a bit of a nod before his attention shifted to the crest, his fleshy digits flipping the thing over to get a better view of it. Many times this thing had either gotten him into some strange situation, or blessed him with good fortune- This being one of those times. When Celaeno once again put a ‘mister’ in front of his name, Trent looked at her in a serious manner and said, “You don’t have to be so formal. Trent is fine.” He tried to smile a little to show he that he meant no ill will with that remark. “I have, actually. Some time ago. How long, I could not say. I know that this is… or was, one of their crests. The thing has seen me shunned in many places. And at times, like at the bank, it has shown me wealth. I could not find too much information on their ranks, or what it means, exactly. I am curious to know, however- If this thing even belongs to me. Or if, maybe I have pilfered it from someone. That maybe I am not indeed this Trent.” The man shrugs before curiosity takes hold, “Why? What is it that you know of the Forsaken Knights? Are you familiar with them in some form?”
Celaeno does a quick, apologetic bow of her head, formal despite the correction, "Of course Mi....Trent." She offers him a genuine grin in reply to his next remarks, tinged with some pride that she had correctly guessed some of the badge's origin. "Only what I have read in history books, sadly. Followers of the dark immortals, used as an army at one point, also associated with the Dread Lords Solaris and Kaizer at one time or another I believe. Quite the bad reputation, but I'm fairly sure anything official, at least, would have been driven underground by now. I would guess it's been many years since those conflicts. That's all I can remember, at the moment. I suppose they were well known enough from the wars that plagued this land that that crest would earn you some nasty looks, at the very least." She offers him a toothy smile of reassurance, though. "I, however, am very much a foreigner. So don't expect any ill will from me unless you earn it by your own merits. Even if that isn't your given name, it fits you well enough, I think."
It was like lightning. A quick flash, a strike. Metal palm fell upon blonde hair as the names of Solaris and Kaizer seemed to trigger some sort of memory. It was brief. Fleeting. Nothing that would make sense. Eyelids shielded steel from the cold as the human took a moment to recover from the strange wash of nostalgia. “I see.” he said, when he was able to look over to the silver-handed woman once again. “I figured as much. I am certain that if they were still active, someone would have found me by now. At least, in theory.” Trent shivered a little. The cold slush and winter’s breath were mixing in unpleasant ways. There would be two options, head for the library, or abandon the woman here and let her walk the rest of the way. Given their close call, he opted to at least walk her to the building. “Thanks.” he said with her attempt at a compliment. “It will have to do, as it’s the only one I know.” A grin in return- his attempt at cracking wise. Trent began to walk to the north, aiming for the library, the one place he himself had spent a more than a few nights in. When they finally came upon the building, he pushed pulled open the door and held it for Celaeno to enter. “The Great Library. A place I’m sure you will like.”
Celaeno 's eyebrows pinched together over her eyes as she opens her mouth to ask if he was alright, but his ready answer makes her pause and the words shrivel on her tongue. Her formerly back-down meeting with the road earlier started to soak through the back of her robe and her teeth chattered as the adrenaline from the encounter began to wear off. "I do hope if you ever do meet them, it's on your terms," she offers as they continued on their way. His comment regarding his lack of memory strikes her in a similar way as jokes referencing her lack of appendages, and the attempt at humor earns him a snicker of approval. A nod of thanks was afforded the man as he opened the door for her upon arrival, her heart picking up a few beats in anticipation as she turns. The first look at the place has a rather high pitched noise, akin to a strangled squeal slipping out as she claps her hands together, not that the enchantments upon the place would let that slip up echo throughout the building. Her excitement bubbled up, temporarily making her forget all of the other responsibilities she had to attend to. Trent may have just made the biggest understatement of the century. The girl was practically glowing as she turned on her heel to Trent and bowed to him, deep and at her waist. "Thank you! For helping to fend off that nasty business in the street as well as...this! If you don't hear from me in a week, do visit again to check if I've starved to death." And with that she would retreat from the entrance into the depths of the bear-shaped building, perhaps never to be seen again.