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Fantasy Well of Wishes | Main IC | [Closed]

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Intro to the Lodge || 8pm || April 11th
  • Jet

    Uncultured
    The Champion Lodge of Whaleshell Port
    8pm | April 11th | Year 587 of the Third Age


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    Modeled after nord longhalls, the lodge stretched forty-nine meters across without equal depth, and made from strong evergreens the appearance was authentic woodgrain — for places two thousand miles north anyway. Covered with decommissioned shields the rustic exterior ranged between vibrant reds and grass greens, rusted orange and baren gunmetal scarred with damage. Every wooden inch was covered below the rounded rooftop which remained clear, where future legends could be honored.

    Alone among mounted shields were famous dual broadswords, crossed above the main entrance. Every customer walked below them when coming inside but respects were rarely paid. Most ignored manners, rushing through engraved double doors and toward bartenders, gambling games and bookies who wagered money over combat matches.

    "Place your bets, place your bets! Will Scorpion Kaiser continue winning against the Bulldog of Brandy? Can the Bulldog avenge his defeat against the savage southern champion? Don't miss your opportunity and place your bets! Place your bets here!" Advertised an unscrupulous man from the center-floor combat stage, snake-charming customers who debated odds with hushed containment.

    But then everything went to shit.

    Animated drunks shouted predictions! Confused bookies dashed between wasted morons! Hundreds of wager slips sold and loud debates broke over matchup opinions. Insults were shouted about mothers, hotheads were getting offended, weapons were getting drawn and combat magic buzzed across the room! Anyone watching could see danger mounting among gamblers, and anxious bartenders sighed thinking not again please with flashbacks of traumatic cleanups — but chance was sympathetic today. Once wager forms were collected the atmosphere cooled, and both champions selected wood weapons from an aged barrell beside the stage.

    Meanwhile, bargames were played along the western wall. Warriors thumped dartboards with rusty throwing knives. Gamblers drew cards from rigged decks and people wagered dice rolls. Cheating accusations were tossed around but combat wasn't common among swindlers, who preferred counter-playing with complex schemes. Honest players were scarce even among losers, and winners were the best cheaters, nothing more.

    Across from scam central stood the famous lodge bar. Running twenty meters she covered the whole eastern wall, staffed by seven overmatched employees. Here people relaxed on stools, working through protein-packed plates and strong drinks without added water. Behind these customers were several long mess tables with matching bench seats, where people swapped fantastic tales over steaming steaks.

    Enjoyable chaos and melodic music was everywhere, but some patrons sought more serious endeavors than drunken entertainment. Some were here about "Finding the Wishing Well" — so the advertisement went anyway, and the adventure group was recruiting tonight after combat matches concluded. Given sixty seconds, the mission leader would explain important details to gather members, then create travel plans with experienced bannermen. But would anyone volunteer?

    Lacking hope the nervous employer paced around near the combat stage. Lowbrow potato farmers mocked wishing wells these days; among grizzled veterans things would be even worse. The man, named C. Beane on employment postings, knew chances were poor and across the room someone shrouded in darkness watched him sweat, scratching encoded notes across weathered parchment paper.

    OOC Note
    Your characters may enjoy recreation and relaxation, play games of chance and skill, murder food and drinks, throw chairs at each other or argue with local farmers. The recruiting speech begins after the exhibition fight ends, and yes you can place bets!

    (Tagging people who might have missed pings)

    Arcanist Arcanist OrWangatan OrWangatan Pik Pik
    Huntertabbysandshark3 Huntertabbysandshark3 The Regal Rper The Regal Rper
     
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    Clive Entrance, Well of Wishes Conscription Post
  • Richard Wagner aka Clive Beane (Fake name)

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    Scorpion was was being hammered down by his enemy, who seemed inches from winning the sparring match. Those watching screamed cheers or curses depending on where money was placed, and watching along was the mission leader. Listed under a pseudo-name, Richard Wagner was anonymous but pressure drove sweat from pores anyway. Success seemed dubious when mission advertisements had been laughed about, drawn over by taggers, and randomly destroyed. Missions about the Wishing Well were almost always dumpster fires, however there was something different about Wagner's plan, something others lacked. Real evidence.

    Richard possessed a map sourced from ancient carvings found deep below the earth. His evidence was oldest and most legitimate in recent memory, coming from before humans called Centos home. But strong evidence was nothing against strong narratives, most people would laugh away his speech no matter how convincing. However he payed well, and whatever drew support was good enough. The professor found motivations irrelevant. He needed strong and experienced people, not fanatics.

    But then someone random came by and dampened hope. The leader was surprised anyone would spark conversation -- he was also annoyed hearing drab words about poor chances. Looking at Salazar, Richard muttered out a poorly prepared "Yes well you uh.... you're not wrong, these brutes are poorly qualified to judge the evidence I'll be providing, but I'm relying on them none-the-less. Ironic I suppose, how my most important work comes down to the opinions of men who smash themselves over the head with hammers for fun!" he explained without any humor. He was dead serious insulting the entire room below his breath.

    Meanwhile bulldog was ending his battle. Laying blows he clubbed Scorpion with a wooden sword, slamming the southern man with endless shots. People were shouting encouragement for both fighters, but soon the smaller man was tossed from the ring! The fight was over.

    Bulldog stood with arms raised as many around the room cheered good fortune, and winnings were distributed by bookies. Sore losers complained about thrown matches, but they were ignored as money changed hands. Richard watched as nerves sparked over his coming speech, and as he mounted the stage, lodge employees placed sound stones around the room to broadcast words to anyone interested. Meanwhile a shrouded observer watched from across the room, curious red eyes peaking from below a dark hood, gloved hands scratching words when the speech started.

    "Hello ladies and gentlemen, my name is Clive Beane. Many of you have seen my advertisements about the Wishing Well, and some have even destroyed them!" Richard opened as people around the tavern erupted in laughter. "We all know about the Wishing Well, but I have evidence! A map from before the age of men, showing where she rests! Never before has anyone brought such proof! What I provide is the true confirmation and good people are needed for this journey. Your pay is guaranteed, and assuming we succeed, wealth beyond your deepest imagination can be achieved. My evidence is beyond conspiracy and hair brained schemes, and again I remind you that pay is guaranteed! The mission will be long and fraught with danger, but having the right swords by my side.....

    For another minute Wagner sold his plans, and once completed most lodge members laughed as hyenas. They viewed his goal as wasteful nonsense, but some believed. Some approached the stage once the professor came down, vowing service. One by one they scrawled names across parchment, and the shrouded observer watched each signature from above through a seeing stone, memorizing each name.

    OOC
    Your characters have signed up and are staying the night at the lodge. Basement rooms have been purchased by Richard and your characters can turn in for the night. Everyone signed up is brought together by Richard, and the group devises an opening route from Whaleshell Port. After choosing a route, some people decide to hang out in common areas with new comrades, others decide that sparring sessions sound fun, and some continue drinking in the main room. You may run interactions in the traveling talks channel, until my scene transition post in 24-48 hours depending on how much everyone enjoys traveling talks.

    Rooms come with one queen sized bed, a large wooden trunk for personal affects, and a small bathroom that has a shower and toilet, both powered by a storm stone that summons water currents. Tomorrow the group is scheduled to gather supplies around 9 am, before leaving around 12 pm from whatever gate opens the chosen route.
     
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    Excommunication and A Call To Arms || 11:20am || April 12th
  • Whaleshell Port | 11:20 am | April 12th - Year 587 of the Third Age | 72 degrees and sunny

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    Two hours ago, our new comrades mowed down morning meals and the atmosphere was extremely energetic around the champion lodge. Optimism buzzed as mission members grew confident, hearing more evidence from the mission leaders. There were many factors explained over the endless meal, by both Richard and his elegant daughter Vanessa.


    Vanessa Wagner
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    Words flowed as food mountains vanished, connections were growing and when supply groups formed many accepted because socializing sounded fun! More reserved members accepted to escape boredom, and certain stragglers were ordered along because expertise was needed — or some extra hands. Four people remained with Richard when others went for supplies... maybe they were too hungover? Whatever the reason, tavern dwellers now depart at 11:20 to eastern gates, where the mission group assembles at noon. Meanwhile, others have completed supply runs and horses were purchased.

    Unfortunately for horse group, stable workers escort cavalry around outer walls and to the eastern gate — have fun walking my equestrians! At least you're not pushing huge wooden carts along uneven roads... looking at you supply groups, break your spines yet?

    Locations

    In terms of where everyone is, here is a quick guide!
    Horse group (Marked with red X) | Lost Echo Lost Echo Anne Boolean Anne Boolean - Vanessa Wagner (NPC)

    Food group (Marked with blue X)| Taigakitt Taigakitt Sarahspn Sarahspn EldridSmith EldridSmith

    Weapon group (Marked with green X) | EldridSmith EldridSmith Taigakitt Taigakitt RedLeftHand36 RedLeftHand36 OrWangatan OrWangatan

    Medical group (Marked with orange X) | BriiAngelic BriiAngelic Arcanist Arcanist The Regal Rper The Regal Rper Aelia Aeldyne Aelia Aeldyne

    Lodge group (Marked with black X) | BriiAngelic BriiAngelic Aelia Aeldyne Aelia Aeldyne Anne Boolean Anne Boolean Pik Pik - Richard Wagner (NPC)

    Eastern gate (Marked with gold circle) | Meeting spot


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    As mission groups moved eastward, peak hours opened and thousands moved through worn cobblestone boulevards. Narrow lanes saturated with merchants, guards, customers, delivery men and corner-store preachers. Dozens of homeless people beseeched passerbys, acrobatic street performers entertained locals, music played from wandering bards, and screaming urchins cut through crowds. Whaleshell around noon embodied classic southern chaos, but something unusual hung over our groups.

    Watching eyes.

    Concealed below charcoal hoods, they peered over rooftops and through windows. They observed from crowded groups, park benches and dark alleyways. They watched from everywhere, and with synchronized movements they stepped from shadows! Rushing around mission groups they stood for a charged moment, withdrawing melee weapons and Channeling Orbs of Energy.

    "No mission too deadly, no sacrifice too great, Quaestiones Aeternum"
    — A motto scrawled across Inquisition gates, one also announced by shrouded enemy captains when mission groups were surrounded. Seconds passed once the showdown began, the atmosphere became stagnant and random people surged away, making streets barren as enemy captains announced names from parchment papers.

    "Helena Lis, Pozou Artith, Salazzle Starky, Vaaltari of Jata" went the master mage who commanded the men surrounding medical group.

    "Kuma of Ber’Matu, Ayana Eyowen, Kiel Shan, Vanessa Wagner" barked the one before horse group.

    "Erik Berard, Bjorn Hamrammr, Freya Hamrammr, Pelea Artith" yelled the commander who opposed weapon group.

    "Liam Al'Amir, Leone Locke, Gwendolyn Holloway, Yo Saiwa" barked food group's enemy captain.

    "Roland Marek, Lyleve Ferchgwynniael, The stone elf known as Obsidian, Lorrin Yumi, Richard Wagner" announced the captain who intercepted lodge group.

    The masters paused, and despite great distance between speakers, the following words came at once from every captain "You have been excommunicated and sentenced to death for seeking what cannot be controlled, and what cannot be found. As since the dawn of men — guardians of reality and guardians of peace. Quaestiones Aeternum"

    Inquisition troops removed robes, and several displayed thick crimson armor used by Guardsmen Elite. Then there were mage apprentices wearing hard leather reinforced by gunmetal studs, they were capable mages on average. Next stood random mercenaries, made obvious from misplaced clothing, and weakest yet were standard Inquisition guardsmen who wore poor chain-mail. Overseeing everyone was one master mage wearing loose red robes. Holding an orb the commanders exuded raw arcane potential, and anyone sane would fear their legendary power.

    OOC
    Several options exist here. Groups can fight or run, run and hide, fight by running away, blend into crowds etc. I am not suggesting or preventing any actions. You may use the environment to your full advantage as well. You don't need to follow any preset formula. Best of luck!

    For more information about the inquisition, check out the organizations channel in the discord server! Here's one important excerpt for those who don't feel like checking out the whole channel.

    "Because the order protects everyone equally, the Inquisitors are allowed free movement through the continent by every city state. Many capital cities have Inquisition outposts where ten apprentices work under a resident Master Mage, who also commands a garrison of up to fifty trained soldiers. Inquisition orders are not the government, they are militant churches that have a large presence. We are not globally wanted by everyone in the world, just this subset of powerful fanatics that governments give a free pass to."
     
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    Ivory Forest Arrival || April 16th || 6pm
  • The Ivory Forest
    6pm | April 16th | Year 587 of the Third Age


    When med group arrived, wounded members were treated, horses were selected and Richard answered endless concerns. Most people stayed when discussions ended — some however, departed for new endeavors and would never be seen again. Bonds were broken when they waved goodbye, but there was no time for prolonged farewells. The group was gone like migrant sparrows on eastern winds, leaving the city for good.

    The next four days were paranoid; people looked behind as much as forward. To escape pursuit, our group traveled hard through narrow forest pathways, blossoming pastures and worn cobblestone roads, but they couldn't continue forever without reprieve. Some nights were spent in rural lodges, where locals had less teeth than fingers. Others were spent below stars and moonbeams, in meadows where wheat-grass rustled in the gentle spring breeze.

    Morale was decent as the group went east, but food was scarce. Local towns provided some but there was never enough. People grew hungry, malcontent and weary — so a choice was made. The group would abandon known roads, and spend time gathering supplies from the land. Where they stopped provided ample hunting, great natural-resources and beauty. But more important was seclusion, from anyone reporting to Inquisition agents.

    The Ivory Forest

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    Ivory trees of every manner and make grow here. Ground coverage however, remains a mosaic of grass greens, vibrant blues and rose reds. Blossoming vines wrap around stark trunks and branches too, creating a remarkable contrast between colored petals and snow-white leaves. When the moon rises these pale leaves glow, illuminating the forest even when night covers the land.

    Below glowing evergreens our basecamp stands, and tents have been selected by mission members. Center-stage there is one large tent where strategy is discussed. But who would examine charts when booze is passed around a campfire? You could explore ancient ruins too, or hunt rare herbs inside the whimsical white forest.

    Richard encourages hunting and fishing to replenish supplies, but you could also explore the ever-wintered Heim's Island? There's a lakeside cabin where a hermetic man resides, who accepts coin for passage there. Some people might even hang out by the river, though springtime water might be too cold for most people.

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    Welcome to the Ivory Forest!



    OOC: You can continue any interactions you were involved in at the gate, in the traveling talks channels. You can also touch on interactions that happened on the road, en-route to the ivory forest. When you arrive at a mapped location, more information will be provided about the area (images & descriptions). Enjoy!
     
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    Stone's Throw Intro Post || April 20th || 3:32pm
  • Advancement Post

    Hunting Group returned with enough food for a week, and the island explorers were close behind. They carried small plants reminiscent of pale evergreens, with medical properties for burn victims at basecamp. They also mentioned an odd metal tree coated in dense ice, with unknown origins and a strange aura. None could say what the structure actually was, but natural origins were clearly impossible. It was a mystery that some discussed, when settling in around a growing bonfire at the center of camp.

    Many other stories were shared as meat seared over crackling wood flames, filling stomachs with fresh food for the first time in a long time. Cold drinks were passed around too — as is Centosian camping tradition. Meanwhile the newcomers were questioned by Lucien, and following a long interrogation lasting two arduous hours, four strangers were made into members. Their massive interview meant the newcomers ate last, alongside Delve Group who returned late, bringing back small metal artifacts and strange tales. But now's not the time to tell their story.

    Once the last servings were devoured, leftovers were dehydrated into dried strips of meat — better get used to jerky eh! And with early hours approaching, the camp darkened. Most enjoyed a well earned break from dangerous work, but several volunteers stayed awake to keep watch. Luckily they were soon switched out with other guards, rotating in shifts so everyone could rest before daybreak came.

    When morning arrived, basecamp springed into action once again! Pots were clanged to remove heavy sleepers from bedrolls, people badgered Lotus for food, and tents were packed after breakfast. But one thing caused everyone to pause, concerned about camp security. It was a canvas bag of enchanted gear, laid down beside the large central tent. Each trinket had an attached paper tag with a less than pleasant description of one Hunting Group member. The names read: Toothy smile, Midget child, Angry Furball, Moss Head.

    Nobody knew how Radameer entered camp without being seen... maybe he possessed hidden ninja skills? And what his gear did was anyone's guess aswell, as no instructions were written below insulting names. Perhaps the equipment had amazing enchantments with powerful applications? Or maybe they were absolute garbage worth almost nothing? Only time would tell which was true, and the road would provide plenty of idle hours, when the group departed for Stone's Throw.

    Within an hour of breaking camp, pale leaves gave way to standard greens, and Ivory Forest became a memory. What replaced white trees was a picturesque example of springtime Centos. Blossoming pastures framed narrow country roads, displaying a mosaic processions of blooming reds and pastel blues, calm purples and sharp yellows. Dense woodlands nestled the colorful grasslands too, showing natural beauty of a more grounded and mossy form. Two nights were spent in such places, where tents and sleeping bags lay below stars and soft moonlight. But one was spent in a small village named Harrengrove, where locals were less educated than Krakthoom the boar, and less cultured than Radameer the asshat.

    Overall, it was a calm journey without major incident, and on day-four the group arrived in the city of Stone's Throw.

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    Welcome to Stone's Throw! The city is exactly what you'd expect from a hub of Centosian agriculture. Lush markets line every street, between them roll wagons brimming with produce, and the country welcome is in full swing! Locals greet the group with wide smiles on arrival, waving at the "heroic warriors" who bring business to their town. But unlike most cities where merchants aggressively pursue customers, these ones are relaxed and personable. Maybe it's the clean country air and strong economy making them content? Not to mention the regional customs that encourage a pleasant atmosphere! But whatever the reason is for how nice residents are, Stone's Throw is a welcome change of pace for road-weary travelers.

    Before anyone branches out and enjoys local attractions, horses are brought to stables, and everyone checks into the local Champion Lodge. Rooms are assigned once sign-ups are done, and many grab lunch, take heated showers and have employees clean their clothing. What comes next is your choice, as everyone gets a free day to explore the city and enjoy modern comforts. It's a mini vacation so-to-speak, and what a great place to have one too! There are many places worth visiting here, even though the town isn't as grand as Stowfort or Almanor.

    Everywhere the group goes after leaving the lodge, residents continue their warm welcome! Merchants offer them samples, attractive locals hold a glance when eyes meet, and conversations are a blast! It's truly remarkable how breezy the atmosphere is, and maybe the whimsical mood comes from the town's unique past? Peace is so consistent here that city walls were never built, making Stone's Throw alone among large Centosian settlements. And enhancing the carefree and peaceful atmosphere, is how peachy the weather is, with only a placid breeze disturbing a clear, seventy-two degree spring day. It's the perfect setting for a great time!

    -
    Scene notes - The date is April 20th, and the time is 3:32pm. Weather is seventy-two degrees, and sunny with small white clouds. Champion Lodges operate separately from the church and do not share information with them, so signing up at the lodge is safe.

    Anne Boolean Anne Boolean Sarahspn Sarahspn Rogue Savior Rogue Savior Taigakitt Taigakitt BriiAngelic BriiAngelic Pik Pik Fred Colon Fred Colon Lost Echo Lost Echo Arcanist Arcanist Mook-LandStrider Mook-LandStrider MythyDW MythyDW The Regal Rper The Regal Rper Colorless Spectrum Colorless Spectrum


     
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    Destruction of Stone Throw's Monster || April 20th || ???
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    The monster grinned as white, incandescent light flashed over the street. "Pathetic, we have eyes everywhere," they turned and fired spines at Lucien's group, but the mage stopped them with a wind gust. "I'll keep the spines from hitting, keep up the attack!" He summoned another wind gust, stopping a second barrage before it landed.

    Meanwhile, the demon roared in disbelief. There were too many opponents to deal with, too many nagging pains and cuts across their body. "Scaredy cats! Weaklings fighting by the dozen! How human of you," the monster grunted as Liam wrapped around their midsection, followed by spears from Daisy, slashes from the sisters, spines from Gwen, stabs from Valentine, and fire arrows from Lorrin and Ayana. The combined attack had the monster reeling, stumbling from the courtyard with flames on their back.

    "FINALLY A CHALLENGE!" The monster reared back and ballooned up once more, pushing Liam away. "Little worms, your days are numbered. Your world will burn, your families will die to summon our lord. Their bones will build the steps to his throne, their skin the bindings of his lexicon. Even if you stop us there are others, we will never be defeated!"

    The monster leaned forward, releasing another wind stream at the courtyard, but they were faltering. Their many wounds seeped white blood, their eyes grew weak and body grew small — but the wind stream was strong nonetheless. It cut through the courtyard, battering the group until fire arrows pierced their back again, creating an ample distraction.

    That distraction was used by anyone who could still fight. Hubyr was one of them, rushing forward to assault the monster. He struck with his staff over and over again, dodging punches with nimble dashes and ducks.

    "You're quick but not quick enough! We'll relish slaying you!" The demon cocked an arm and swung at Hubyr, but Amal and Celestine answered the call. They pounded the monster with strong vibrations and pressurized water, stopping the punch before it landed.

    "ENOUGH!" The monster grew four extra arms and released a sharp squeal, summoning crawlers from every nook and cranny. From streets and alleyways they scurried towards the beast, leaping into and merging with their master. Though the demon's wounds weren't healed, their size grew until they loomed over the group.

    "You should've allowed yourselves to be saved! To become one with the source, an honor your kind is unworthy of. Instead you will perish here... but corpses to feed the flowers," The demon punched into a building, pulling out handfuls of shattered stone. Then they leaned back and prepared to throw, but they suddenly stopped before attacking. "What? How!" They dropped the rocks as a low rumble coursed through the ground, sending cracks through the courtyard and into the street.

    "The rift!" The monster kneeled and dug into the ground, ripping earth as they muttered "Therifttherifttherifttherift" over and over again. "Who's work is this!?" The monster desperately dug as Leone, Yo, Sigurd and Stone disabled the underground pylons. The ancient constructs couldn't feed the rift anymore, destabilizing the portal as it expanded out, pushing through the courtyard's ground. Then, like a dying star it collapsed inwards on itself, blinking out of existence.

    The monster stood, looking over at the hole in the courtyard. "YOU! YOU WILL DIE FOR TH—" but they stopped when the merged crawlers faded from existence. The demon shrunk down without them, sputtering and stumbling as their power dwindled. "How close we were," the monster groaned, splitting into three ragged bodies — the Jester, Gambler and Thief. They were torn and tattered, weakened beyond belief with horrific wounds that poured florescent blood.

    The Thief stood on shaky legs, "You cannot catch what you cannot see," they raised their hands and turned the sky pitch black, shrouding the streets in darkness. By the time anyone could make a lumen spell, the demons were long gone, vanished into nothingness. Then the darkness dissipated, bringing light to the streets of Stone's Throw.

    And at last the enemy was defeated.

    All around the city, civilians woke from their brainwashed slumber. They slowly gathered in the city center, and some approached the church. They sung praises to their unlikely saviors, and some gave rewards of fresh food and gold coins. The battle in the church ended too, and almost sixty people stumbled from the front door. Twenty were inquisition soldiers, but they weren't there to fight. Instead they sung the group's praises too. "I've never met such upstanding outlaws," one said, before collapsing to the ground from exhaustion.

    Then there were the ones near the pylons. From below ground they'd hear what was happening, and Leone looked up shouting "Can someone pass us a line?" Someone did soon enough, bringing the underground group into the light.

    Lucien watched the scene play out with a softened look on his stern face. It'd been too long since he'd done something heroic, decades even. "Attention please!" He shouted over the growing buzz, but there was too much noise. "Damnit to hell, as if I haven't used enough energy," he imbued his vocal chords with mana, increasing his volume as he shouted, "ATTENTION!" He cleared his throat, "There's a boat named Willowix in the harbor, she'll take us out of here so don't get too comfortable. It's only a matter of time before word reaches the church that we're here, so there's no time to waste. I'll search the town for everyone who's missing, until then, don't drink too much." He chuckled, heading away with a wave.

    As luck would have it, he found Kuma, Roland, Aedzel and Amalia soon after leaving. "We're safe for now, everyone's at the church," he told them, but he didn't return to the church. There were still a few he needed to find.

     
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    Blueport || April 25th
  • Advancement post

    Richard and Vanessa had been possessed for hours, but fate smiled on our paychecks when they returned with Lucien. They were too shaken to speak after demonic possession, so he handled the announcement instead. "Great... more magic use. I'll feel this tomorrow," he gathered mana in his throat to speak over the madness. "Time's wasting and the ship's waiting! We're leaving in thirty minutes!"

    A moment later two civilians approached him. They mentioned a gear stash connected to the portal room. The taller one said "If you head down there and make a right by the round boulder—"

    But the shorter one interrupted him, "No no no, it's the oval boulder not the round one you moron."

    Beanstalk shook his head, "But an oval is round!"

    Short-round smiled like a shark, "Don't argue on the merits of semantic argumentatives, that's an ad-hominid!" He shook his head and gave more unsolicited advice, "As I was saying, the oval boulder."

    Lucien scowled, "Do you actually know what those terms mean?"

    The short man snorted, "I passed my grade five."

    He was an idiot, but his directions were surprisingly accurate. The room he mentioned held the stolen gear of kidnapped prisoners. The stash also had valuable items from dead residents and tourists; some were given to group members before they walked towards the docks.

    When they reached their destination they'd see the Willowix — an old caravel owned by Tammond.

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    The ship gently bobbed in the water, her masts towered over town and her canvas sails were furled. Her pine hull was scarred in many places, evidence of her long career hauling cargo across the sea. Tammond leaned over her side when the group approached, scowling as he counted heads and horses. "Talk about crowded," his ship would manage, but it wouldn't be easy. The deck wasn't supposed to be used as a stable either... he could already smell the horse crap.

    "C'mon let's go, I don't have all day here," he waved everyone aboard. "Anyone with sailing experience to the front please, my crew got sent to another dimension so uhh... you need to help or we're not going anywhere." There were enough volunteers for a skeleton crew, it wasn't perfect but it beat land travel.

    After twenty minutes the anchor was raised and the journey began. The locals gave a boisterous send off with music, drunken shouts and magic fireworks. Tammond enjoyed the festivities while he steered his ship downriver, glancing back with a narrow smile. "Never thought I'd sail again," he took a deep, satisfied breath as Stone's Throw became a memory.

    For the next five days the journey continued. It was cramped but more relaxed than trail riding, and there was a ton of booze. Tammond's dead crew could've used alcoholics anonymous, not to mention the imported rum stolen by Gwen and Leone. Then there was the amazing food supplied by the townspeople.

    All considered it was a good trip. The only person who missed out was one new addition — Luka. He'd tracked down Lucien before departure, demanding a spot in the group. He got what he wanted but there was a price, gruntwork for two weeks. So when the question "Who cleans the horse crap," was asked, poor Luka was left holding the shovel.

    At least his assignment only lasted five days, that's when the ship neared a beautiful town named Blueport. Its silhouette glimmered in the distance as Tammond shouted, "I can see the town! Finally your horses can stop defiling my ship! Bring the sails to half mast, we need to slow her down." His volunteers raised the sails, slowing his ship to a safe docking speed.

    After a few minutes the town was close enough to see details. Even from a distance it exuded wealth. Its buildings were made from white plaster, carved stone and fine oak — there wasn't a straw roof in sight. There were several massive buildings too, and each one had a different gimmick. One took inspiration from Almasian palaces, its white plaster walls were accented by sharp blue tiles. Another took inspiration from Chushinlóng architecture (western continent). There were several others ranging from a pyramid to a castle and a tropical beach resort. Though they looked different they shared one thing, they were all casinos.

    Tammond grinned at the sight, "Welcome to Blueport, the best and worst town in Centos," he laughed as his ship neared a long wooden dock. "Lower the anchor!" The volunteers followed his command, bringing his ship to a stop. "Well done! For an inexperienced skeleton crew you aren't half bad!" He smirked at them, "Now that you're here, don't have too much fun! I swear the devil runs this town," he grinned before the group went below deck, gathering their gear from the hold.

    It took almost an hour to clear the ship, and another was spent buying clothes — because as Tammond so eloquently said. "You fuckers look dangerous, it's a great look for adventuring outlaws, but the places here have dress codes. So unless you want to live in your hotel rooms, maybe don't look like roving killers." He wasn't wrong, the resort they attended wasn't even the most expensive in town, but the host nearly passed out when they entered the grand lobby.

    The well-dressed employee cleared his throat, "Dear me, you look like you've seen better days. We don't give out leftover food here... if that's what you're after."

    Richard approached the man and leaned forward, muttering something below his breath.

    The doorman thoughtfully nodded, "Yes of course, the Beane party. I received your pigeon a few days ago. Humblest apologies for my presumptuous statement, but we deal with such a vast number of vagrants." He flipped through a booklet. "I have your room numbers here, you're free to use them even in your current condition, but I'm afraid our facilities have a 'no arms, no armor, or no service' policy. We also have a hygiene policy... what's acceptable is left to our employees' discretion."

    He straightened his bowtie, "But without further adieu, I welcome you to the Golden Point! I am your host, Dupree Bellerose!" He bowed and led the group towards their reserved section.

    It took some time as the resort was huge. It was inspired by ancient pyramids, with five increasingly narrow floors topped with a golden point. The bottom floor had game rooms, restaurants, a classy bar and a relaxing spa. The second floor was where the group was staying. It had standard rooms, but standard rooms in Blueport were luxurious in most places. They had everything one could ask for, from stormstone showers to firestone hearths, soft padded carpets, luscious beds and comfortable leather chairs. Even the lights were premium. Instead of lanterns the rooms had pleasant yellow lumen stones.

    After everyone reached their rooms they were left to their own devices. They could relax in the floor's lounge, get drunk at the bar, gamble their life savings away and develop crippling depression, relax in the spa or explore the touristy town.

    They could also check the bounty board if they woke up choosing violence.

     
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