The Ghostfence rp: Playground 1 Options

[jack cloudy]

Well, here we go. This is the thread where the actual rp will take place. I suppose that I'll go first.
Note: Right now mentioning locations isn't important because odds are everyone will be in Balmora, but later on it might be usefull. Like when people split up and stuff.

Eno Arval, Balmora. (Gah, got his name wrong in the first post already. Not a good start)

"Next stop, Balmora! Please remember to collect your luggage before departing. Also watch your step and do not jump, levitate, ropewalk or do anything else that would be either obstruct your fellow travelers or be hazardous for your health." The caravan-master shouted. The trio of Siltstriders slowed down as their steps became shorter. Waving gently from side to side, they broke formation and each headed towards its own ramp where workers already stood prepared to receive them.

One passenger, a middle-aged Dunmer dressed in brown, looked up from the small flute he'd been carving.
"Ah, finally there. Balmora, it sure hasn't changed much since the last time I visited." He muttered and put away the scalpel he had been using.

The Siltstrider he was on came to a halt and a ramp was placed against its side, secured by hooks that were lodged between the creature's plates.
"You may now disembark. Thank you for accepting our service and we hope to see you again soon." The master said and gestured towards the ramp. The Dunmer nodded politely and got off.

"Now then. I should rent myself a Guar first before I join up with a caravan. What did the brochure say again?" He thought, taking out the leaflet he'd picked up in Ald-ruhn.
"Ah, here it is. A stall has been erected in front of the council house where one may register for transportation to Ghostfence, as well as rent Guars and buy supplies. Be advised that by order of the Temple, all must accept the task of ferrying two sacks of supplies intended for the construction-site. Those who have been assigned as escorts for their respective caravans are exempt from this duty." He read. In his mind, he made a quick calculation on how much more he could take with him without overloading the Guar he was going to rent.



OOC: Umm yeah. I suppose we can go and dismiss the whole 'two sacks' thing if you really want to. It was really just an attempt to make sure that at least some construction-critical supplies would be coming with the caravan.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Dec 23 2008, 12:18 PM

[ShogunSniper]

Falen Ienith

"You will be responsible for carrying two bags of supplies to the site. I also must tell you that you will be held responsible for said items," the clerk had been conveying the same message to everyone, "You will not need to pay for them unless you lose them. Do you understand sir?" The clerk looked up at Falen.

"Yes. Is that all?" he snapped.

The clerk began to look cross and spoke with less respect, "Will you need a guar?"

Falen wrinkled his nose at the thought of the animal. "Yes, give me one of the filthy beasts." The clerk scribbled something on the form in front of him.

"Here's your supplies," he said as he pointed his quill at the freight-moving Orc. Falen snatched up his bags and approached the guar the had been appointed to him.

His guar was old.

It smelled.

Falen did not like the guar.

He kicked the guar's foot as if to make sure it was still among the living. The guar did nothing. It simply eyed Falen with the one bulging eye on the right side of its head. He spat at it and hauled his luggage on its back. He did not secure it well and obviously showed no knowledge of how to balance supplies on a pack animal--the majority of the sacks were on one side of the beast.

Falen tugged the guar along to the tavern and left it outside as he went in.

The tavern was a mess; it looked like an outburst had happened sometime earlier. Falen paced quickly through the mess and the few patrons there. His crimson cloak glittered designs of gold and trailed behind him. It revealed the conservative black outfit he wore underneath. He dressed proudly and symmetrically; indeed, his apparel had the personality of a uniform.

"Four jugs of Mazte," he announced before he reached the bar. Falen didn't bother to address the bartender as he sifted through his satchel. He placed a jewel-sized ruby on the bar as the tender did the same with four ceramic jugs. "I don't have any coin. This will do," he instructed as he secured a cord to the bottles and slung them over his shoulder.

Falen strode out as proudly as he entered. The barkeep said nothing.