((please feel free to comment, rail and totally call me a hack. I'll try to post more as I have time to generate it..))
((The following is work of fiction and any resemblance to any person or place, living, dead, razzed or virtual is purely coincidental)
Char’rae was, in her own estimable opinion, one of the best thieves in the City of Three Pits. All Dark elves are, by their nature, sneaky, conniving creatures, but Char’rae was a an outstanding sneak. Her skills raised her slightly above the common rabble living in the squalor of the slum sections of the subterranean city, the proceeds of such work buying her a small abode under the watchful eye of a slightly influential (but still common) house of dark elves. She even had the ear of certain folk in the noble section, who required some object or information about their rivals and wanted someone skilled enough to do the job, yet common enough to not be a problem should things go poorly.
So it was not uncommon for Char’rae to be approaching some domicile in search of some document, treasure, or even the occasional head. What was not common however was the destination. Hatch’el’s Tower was an arcane on the far edge of the Grand pit, named by a wizard who had supposedly raised the tower from rock and magic over three centuries ago, and allowed to dwell there by the ruling council.
Normally Char’rae didn't bother with wizards. Their wards were strong and their reach was long, and they just had too many ways to turn mind and body into a sordid pool of pain and mush. However her client made her three promises: He could guarantee that ancient Hatch’el would be away from the tower for an entire patrol cycle, he could provide means to open the door on the south balcony, and he would pay in advance.
That left Char’rae the unenviable task of actually getting to the balcony. She supposed if she was a noble she could just float up there, or acquire a potion to do the same. However her client warned that Hatch’el might have ways of detecting such a magical incursion. So that left only the old fashion way. She’d have to scale the tower herself, by hand.
Crastia Jath'la (work in progress)
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Crastia Jath'la (work in progress)
"Save your fork, the best is yet to come"
-Baptist Proverb.
-Baptist Proverb.
Re: Crastia Jath'la (work in progress)
((moar! I'm off to bed for real now))
Thus Char’rae had set out for the tower equipped for such a task. She picked out a dark silk outfit that was light and flexible, moving to her every need. She added to that one dagger and her climbing and breaking harness, which contained her lock picking set and a couple other contingencies. She didn't dare bring much magic, in case those wards could detect much more than levitation and flying.
She only kept her lucky ring, a trinket which allowed her to understand the languages of slaves and traders, as well as make replies in kind. She didn't expect to make much use of it, but it was the first thing of real value she’d ever stolen, and she’d worn it on every job for 8 decades since. Being sentimental or superstitious hardly befit a Drow, but Char’rae didn't’ care: She had formula that had kept her alive in a dangerous choice of vocation, and she simply didn't screw with it.
Traveling light was the key to any climb and she doubted she would need little else. If she did, she could always improvise. After all it was the ability to think on her feet that had seen her through relatively unscathed all these years, and deep down she loved the challenge of puzzling her way through a job.
She had grabbed a mundane hooded cloak, one she could afford to lose and had wrapped it about herself to cover her harness and tools, which she now discarded at the base of the tower. It was used and had seen a few owners. If she had to leave it behind she hoped ancient Hatch’el couldn't trace it back to her.
She began the task of scaling the uneven stone tower. The balcony was only about forty feet up and she was able to mostly free climb. she moved quietly and purposely, not wanting to risk being noticed, not that there seemed to anyone out here. Smart people stayed away from Ancient Hatch'el's tower, she reminded herself sardonically.
Thus Char’rae had set out for the tower equipped for such a task. She picked out a dark silk outfit that was light and flexible, moving to her every need. She added to that one dagger and her climbing and breaking harness, which contained her lock picking set and a couple other contingencies. She didn't dare bring much magic, in case those wards could detect much more than levitation and flying.
She only kept her lucky ring, a trinket which allowed her to understand the languages of slaves and traders, as well as make replies in kind. She didn't expect to make much use of it, but it was the first thing of real value she’d ever stolen, and she’d worn it on every job for 8 decades since. Being sentimental or superstitious hardly befit a Drow, but Char’rae didn't’ care: She had formula that had kept her alive in a dangerous choice of vocation, and she simply didn't screw with it.
Traveling light was the key to any climb and she doubted she would need little else. If she did, she could always improvise. After all it was the ability to think on her feet that had seen her through relatively unscathed all these years, and deep down she loved the challenge of puzzling her way through a job.
She had grabbed a mundane hooded cloak, one she could afford to lose and had wrapped it about herself to cover her harness and tools, which she now discarded at the base of the tower. It was used and had seen a few owners. If she had to leave it behind she hoped ancient Hatch’el couldn't trace it back to her.
She began the task of scaling the uneven stone tower. The balcony was only about forty feet up and she was able to mostly free climb. she moved quietly and purposely, not wanting to risk being noticed, not that there seemed to anyone out here. Smart people stayed away from Ancient Hatch'el's tower, she reminded herself sardonically.
"Save your fork, the best is yet to come"
-Baptist Proverb.
-Baptist Proverb.
Re: Crastia Jath'la (work in progress)
((another week another section please don't suffer in silence, feel free to comment here or in another thread However if you are reserving judgement until see what madness I'm really up to, that's good too.))
Up she went along the stone wall, moving from hand hold to hand hold. It was tiring, and she was grateful that she had shed the extra weight. Finally, she made her way to the balcony and pulled herself over the top of the small wall. She carefully examined the portal and the very slight glowing of the runes around it.
There were seventeen runes in all, each representing a different word in the language of the drow. It was a fairly basic magical lock: you touched the right runes in the right sequence and you got in. If you got it wrong, hesitated too long or put it too many or few symbols, you didn’t get in, and usually something else went wrong.
Fortunately, Char’rae had been able to obtain what she hoped was the correct sequence. Her source was reasonably trustworthy, but after all its not like she’d likely be coming back to stab him between the eyes if this didn’t work.
“Such is the way of the life we chose,” she muttered and then began to touch the wounds in sequence. Large, fruit, doesn’t, slumber? It seemed innane enough not to be made up. After all who would come up with such a thing. Char’rae guessed the odd mental picture made it easy to remember. She was so caught up in it she barely noticed the stone covering the portal fading away.
She stepped through peering about in the darkness with her enhanced drow eyesight, which allowed her to make out the contrast of objects in the room which had no light. She went for the large desk, with several locked drawers.
Her lock-picks were quickly out of their pouch and in her hands, working on the largest drawer of the desk. The picks were worked this way and that feeling the way in,exerting the right pressure on the tumblers to get them to open. She held her breath until she heard what she thought was the click of lock. However it was in actuality something else, the tiny breaking of a glass vial holding an airborne poison.
Up she went along the stone wall, moving from hand hold to hand hold. It was tiring, and she was grateful that she had shed the extra weight. Finally, she made her way to the balcony and pulled herself over the top of the small wall. She carefully examined the portal and the very slight glowing of the runes around it.
There were seventeen runes in all, each representing a different word in the language of the drow. It was a fairly basic magical lock: you touched the right runes in the right sequence and you got in. If you got it wrong, hesitated too long or put it too many or few symbols, you didn’t get in, and usually something else went wrong.
Fortunately, Char’rae had been able to obtain what she hoped was the correct sequence. Her source was reasonably trustworthy, but after all its not like she’d likely be coming back to stab him between the eyes if this didn’t work.
“Such is the way of the life we chose,” she muttered and then began to touch the wounds in sequence. Large, fruit, doesn’t, slumber? It seemed innane enough not to be made up. After all who would come up with such a thing. Char’rae guessed the odd mental picture made it easy to remember. She was so caught up in it she barely noticed the stone covering the portal fading away.
She stepped through peering about in the darkness with her enhanced drow eyesight, which allowed her to make out the contrast of objects in the room which had no light. She went for the large desk, with several locked drawers.
Her lock-picks were quickly out of their pouch and in her hands, working on the largest drawer of the desk. The picks were worked this way and that feeling the way in,exerting the right pressure on the tumblers to get them to open. She held her breath until she heard what she thought was the click of lock. However it was in actuality something else, the tiny breaking of a glass vial holding an airborne poison.
"Save your fork, the best is yet to come"
-Baptist Proverb.
-Baptist Proverb.