BAKTRU, A SOLO PBEM PROLOGUE Welcome traveller to tranquil Vienvail, home of Humans, home of Dwarves, home of peace. Here, you will find rest or adventure, solace or grief, fulfilment or death. Who can say ? The Gods can be mysterious in their ways, steering one where he would not venture on his own... Take this narrow alley, winding a path through a not-so-good part of town for example. Certainly most man would not choose to travel its length, even by the sun's warming light. Yet people live here, amid the wreckage and the filth, in the company of rats (two-legged or otherwise). Some are beggars, some are thieves, yet others are neither or both. Listen, for this is the story of one of them... 1. A DAY IN THE LIFE - (Baktru, Vienval, north-west quarter) A door opens in the alley and a cook pot comes flying out, accompanied by the scrambling shape of Ismound Nagatama III, first of the name, and an angry voice, "... dinna com back withoot SOMETHING, this time ! Itas Market day, by the herns of Abboth ! Pick eh fat merchant and wingzoom, nah probleem... Ya lazy curmunching... Got tah think..." The voice dissolves into incomprehensible grumbling and disappears totally when uncle Belkram decides he's said enough and closes the door on further discussion... and a surprisingly well furnished interior. Ismound picks himself off the ground and proceeds to wipe off any trace of dust or debris from the rich brown of his leather outfit. 'Not my fault his hand hurts today...' He thinks. 'Much too early to go out anyway, the sun is still up and everything... It's not my fault.' He pats himself down, paying particular attention to his brooch and rings, still steaming inside at this undue treatment. He finally explodes, "IT'S NOT MY FAULT I TELL YOU !... AND I WANT MY SWORD... AND MY PACK." "Shet up, out there ! I be traying to think !" There's some shuffling and a few muffled curses, but the door finally opens and out comes a short sword... no pack though. "Yah canna even use that thing ! Cut yerself tah ribbons ane day... Young nincom..." The door is closed once more. "It looks good on me." pouts the young man. He bends down to retrieve the fallen sword and straps it to his belt. 'It DOES look good on me.' He thinks as he stands above a large puddle, admiring the contrast of his jet-black hair with the mauve of his eyes and the dangerous look of the sharp implement at his belt. He does try to make his dark gray cape billow out behind him in an heroic fashion, but the cape hangs down listlessly. 'No wind in this sinkhole... Oh well !' A smile brightens his face as his moral soars for no apparent reason. Still smiling, Ismound strides out into the light of the city and the noise of Market day. 'Stay focuses, Ismound my man, got to make the old gnome proud...' * * * Unfortunately for him, the day is full of noise and swirling colors. Ismound walk about in an unhurried fashion, looking at the scenery and generally passing the time. An artisan's wares attracts his attention. The old fellow is busy arranging tiny colored pebbles in intricate swirly patterns. Finished product line his stall, encased in wooden frames. 'Rather nice. Perhaps I should steal one or two for the house...' Before he can form any kind of a plan though, his attention is diverted by the passage of a beautiful lady, dressed all in pale green. 'A woman of many qualities no doubt.' Thinks Ismound while admiring some of those "qualities" lustily. 'Nice uh...' Some dolt has inserted his person between the young man and the object of his admiration. 'How rude !' Looking up, Ismound can see that the blocker is very obviously the lady's guard... _One_ of the lady's guards he amends as he spots another at her side. 'Must be rich. A quality I admire above all else.' Smiles the athletic lad. He frowns suddenly 'Rich ? Money ?... Something about money. Ummm... Of course !' He bangs his fist in the hollow of his palm. 'I was supposed to get something useful for Uncle !' Looking up, Ismound can tell by the position of the sun in the sky that he's wasted a bit more than a watch in "extracurricular" activities. 'Not a problem then.' The lady has continued on her way down the street but others will come eventually. He remembers, just in time, to go check his escape route. No problem there either, the wooden pegs are still fairly secure in their respective cracks, allowing one knowing their existence to easily climb over the dead end's wall and leave his pursuers behind. Ismound nods in satisfaction. 'Time to go to work.' He thinks as he re-enters the main street's hubbub. Spotting a citizen with a purse entirely too fat for his continued well being, Ismound starts walking in his direction in a determined fashion, like he's going somewhere. Inches from his target, the young thief sidesteps lightly to his left, brushing lightly against the man and twisting his own body to the right to avoid a full collision. Meanwhile, his left thumb circles the purse's strings, giving latitude for the sharp little knife concealed in his palm to do its work. The rather heavy purse drops safely into his hand, but the knife inflicts a small gap in the obviously wealthy merchant's costume. 'Damnably amateurish of me. Uncle Belkram would be fuming if he were here...' He smiles happily. 'He's not here though, now is he ?' "My apologies, Sir." Says Ismound over his shoulder as he continues on without missing a step. The merchant mutters "Yeah yeah... Young ones these days... no respect for anyone." He continues on his way, muttering to himself on and off... Ismound does the same on his side (except for the muttering). Under cover of his cloak, he reaches behind his back and deposits the purse in a belt pouch for later study. All the while, his ears are trained backwards, ever alert to the sound of approaching footsteps or pursuit. Good thing too, for his bouncing stride have put but ten meters between him and his target when his keen ears pick up a dismayed voice : "Hey... Where's my purse ?" Almost immediately followed by the merchant's running footsteps... 'Time for some decisive action.' The courageous thief runs off to his pre-arranged escape route, just north of market square. Grabbing the wooden pegs, he hugs the stone work and gets up onto the roofs in just a few seconds. The merchant, rounding the corner and seeing his hard-earned money get away, starts yelling at that very moment... "Hold ! Thief ! He got my purse ! Stop him !!" By then, Ismound is safe on the rooftop however. He jumps to a nearby building and crouches behind a chimney. 'Wonder if anybody'll follow me this time... I could use a little exercise.' He smiles in anticipation. When he looks back however, no one appears over the wall, the screaming merchant is no longer voicing his anger, all is calm. 'Gee, too bad...' The disappointed young man lies back on the sun-warmed roof and lazily admires the sun's progressive disappearance behind the surrounding mountains. Time passes... 'Now this is the life...' He twists around uncomfortably. 'That is, if I could get that bulge out of my back... What IS that anyway ?' Ismound reaches into his pouch and extracts the offending item which turns out to be the merchant's purse. "Had forgotten about you, my pretty." Opening the purse, he counts one platinum, 4 gold and 21 copper pieces. 'Not a bad haul... I can spend half of that for "amusement" purposes and Uncle will still be pleased.' He smiles at the prospect... then frowns as he notices the current light conditions. '... and I haven't even stolen breakfast yet !' Ismound tosses the empty purse in the nearby chimney, climbs down from the roof via another route and takes off toward the food court. 'Hope there's still some vendors open at this hour...' Some of the merchants are indeed starting to pack up their things as night is already falling. Luckily, some of them are still attempting to sell a last bit of food, cloth or any other merchandise, trying to attract possible customer's by yelling out their products and prices... "Finest Flemish Linen! Get your fines Flemish Linen!", "The best Pork you've ever tasted, fresh as can be! These guys were mud-digging just this morning, could be your meal tonight!" He stops yelling to chase away the flies that are attracted by the smell of the meat... Ismound strolls through the food merchants' stalls, to narrow down his targets. 'That looks good... So does this. UmmmUm cinnamon pastries... And the smell.' The happy lad takes a deep breath through the nose. 'Simply divine...' He smiles gaily. 'I'll start with those.' Still smiling wide, the carefree young man turns a corner some 10 meters from the baker's display. Taking out a piece of string and a small stick, he quickly ties a one-loop bow in the centre of the stick, letting the two ends drag below. 'That ought to do it.' He holds the crude figure by the loop, then lowers it until the two strings touch the ground. "Serve me !" Ismound quickly snatches his hand away, hoping he did it right this time. There is a small pop and the figure disappears, replaced by an invisible... presence. "Good !" Ismound almost claps at his success. "On the first try too." "Alright, follow me." The dapper lad leisurely walks toward the object of his desires and stops right in front of it, though much too far to reach. He attracts the bakers attention and says, "Nice sunset eh ?" he points to it with his left hand. Under his breath, "Servant, grab those two pastries by the side and hold them under my cape." Out loud, "Have rarely seen the like of it." The baker looks up... "Yeah a nice day it was indeed... especially for late Leacla. We usually don't get this heat until the end of Ysaelonna or Braeda even... So, could I interest you in some nice and fresh bread? Some pastries perhaps? My apple cake is quite well known you know ?" Ismound waves his hand in mild denial and simply walks off with a friendly nod to his victim, his sugary prize hovering below his slightly outstretched right hand. 'The baker didn't notice at all !' He smiles, pleased with himself. Farther down the lane, a cut of beef works just as well. Getting a jug of wine seems a bit more difficult : there's a rather grumpy salesman guarding it. But he's packing up anyway and Ismound easily grabs a jug as the salesman turns away to load some bottles into his cart. After the deeds are done, Ismound walks away with three prizes... plenty for a good meal. 'Now all I need is some quiet locale to enjoy these fine products.' thinks the young man in a falsely sophisticated inner voice. As he walks, his gaze idly wanders, flitting over the street's scenery. He's just stifled the urge to jump up and set a cobbler's sign swinging when a wide smile suddenly graces his swarthy features. 'Of course !' Without further dilly-dallying, Ismound takes off for the docks, just a couple of stone's throw away from the market district. The stretch of wooden pavement where his quarry can usually be found is quite empty by the time he gets there though (with the notable exception of dust, wood chips and barrel fragments, of course.) 'Couldn't have gone very far... It's not like he can run away, is it ?' Ismound snickers at his own joke while the ghost of his still living mother berates him for his utter lack of good taste. 'Speaking of mother, time to put those elven eyes to good use... Aha ! Wheel marks. Good thing they don't clean out this road very often.' He chuckles almost soundlessly : this is nowhere near the best part of the docks. The makeshift investigator clasps his hands behind his back, folds himself in two and follows the tracks, his nose nearly pressed into the road. The parallel marks of small wooden wheels lead into a smaller, fishier smelling alley. 'Must be nearing the lake...' Ismound winds his way through scattered piles of refuse. Mostly crates, exploded barrels and old fishing nets. The tracks suddenly stop at the bottom of a box... "Uh ?" Ismound looks up and is confronted by a horrible sight : some kind of monstrous tentacled thing centimetres from our hero's face. "AAAAAaaaah !" He jumps back but trips on his own cape and goes sprawling some distance back amid a cloud of dust. He scrambles back up on shaky legs, twin lengths of shiny steel already extracted from forearm sheets. "Stay back !" All is still. The faint sound of lapping waves echoes in the narrow alley. The only movement is that of Ismound's foodstuff gliding in position beside its owner... and some peculiar quaking motions by the compact shape in the darkness. Ismound narrows his eyes to slits, peering intently at his enemy. Under close scrutiny, the writhing tentacles resolve into a wild tangle of beard and hair while the peculiar shape becomes that of a man sitting in a small wooden chariot. In short, the "attacker" is none other than Nofeet Krencha... Ismound's shoulder slump in relief has he breathes out the accumulated tension. "It's not funny ! I nearly spitted you, you know ?" The still trembling thief plunks himself down near his friend. Here, the floor of the alley comes to a sudden halt. Looking down, the waters of the lake can be seen as well as the other side of the gap, blocked by the back of some building. "...And after I came all this way to share my meal. I should just leave." In fragrant contradiction to his words, Ismound directs the servant to lay down its burden and seizes the jug on its way down. "Servant, open it." Only then does the distracted half-elf realise something of importance : 'Damn it all, I forgot to steal some glasses !'. He throws a dark look at Nofeet and without asking, snatches his offering bowl away from the still quaking beggar. "It's not funny, I said. Stop giggling, damn you !" The miffed lad empties the bowl's content on the ground and fills it to the brim with... red wine, he notes. Taking a large sip first, he extends the bowl to his comrade. BREAK - "You seem in a good mood at least." observes Ismound. "I wish Uncle had your attitude... He threw me out today, can you believe it ? Right on my butt in the middle of the street !" BREAK - "I think his hand hurts. You wouldn't happen to know a few tricks in that department would you ?" He points to Nofeet's own missing appendages. "Maybe then I could sleep in peace without his incessant grumbling..." BREAK - "So anyway, what's new with you ? Heard the latest on Halico ?" BREAK ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- INFORMATION PEOPLE I KNOW "Nofeet" Krencha : A former soldier who got both feet amputated when the wagon he was sleeping under collapsed on them. He tells everyone he lost them in a dwarven ambush. He's now a beggar in the Docks quarter. POSSIBLE SENTENCING ? Depends on many factors actually. Sentences would usually include public humiliation and a prison term ranging from a couple weeks to ten years, depending on the value of what was stolen, whether violence was used, whether black magic was used, etc... If someone is proven to be a murderer, execution will follow, usually decapitation. RUMORS - People are being killed. Apparently patrolling city guards find atrociously mutilated bodies in the northern (NW ?) part of town regularly. Uncle Belkram has told you that a dwarf named Halico, a convicted axe murderer, has escaped prison and is responsible for the atrocities. - Rumors of Orc attacks in the south of the Duchy. Soldiers have been conscripted lately, but official word is that this is to increase internal security in the city. - The Thieves Guild has gotten quite strong lately. DUCHY OF BAKTRU Inhabitated by an about equal amount of humans and dwarves. The Duchy of Baktru is at peace, however the rest of the known world is in an eternal war between humans and dwarves, where dwarves occupy the northern part of the continent, and humans live in the south. Baktru is ruled by a duke. The Duke himself is a very charismatic hunchback, who has been ruling the Duchy for over ten years. He's a good ruler generally, except maybe a bit too strict as far as crimes go. CITY OF VIENVAL (Capital of Baktru) There are mostly stone houses, of a mixed Greek Roman and medieval style. The city is dominated by the Palace of the Duke, the temples of Freya (love & fertility) and Hephaestos (blacksmiths). Many roofs have flat tops, but tend to get rather high, in a city where two story buildings are the norm, and three story buildings are far from rare. There are three gates to the city, one to the SW and one to the SE (on both sides of the lake that is) and one up north, between the poor and the rich area. All three gates are guarded by two watchtowers. Since recently, guards are checking all people that enter or leave the city. It's a temperate climate. Due to the many hills around, and the mountains surrounding the area, it tends to get rather chilly during winter, but summers are usually warm and dry. Current situatiuon is a warm day halfway through spring, under a crystal clear sky. QUARTERS OF VIENVAL SW to S: The docks area. Not as rowdy as a seaport, it mostly serves as a harbour for native fishermen and some merchants who ship goods over the huge lake. SE : Completely dominated by the market area, which is a rather large triangle. E to NE: A rather new area, with mostly wooden houses, many containing shops or craftsmen. The mages guild and the library are to be found here. N: The richest area of the city. This is where the villas are. Houses separated from each other by broad lanes, lots of trees and shrubberies. The Duke's palaca is in this area, together with a couple temples. NW: The oldest part of the city, this is where the less fortunate live. Small and winding alleys, dark cul-de-sacs, etc... A true maze of streets and houses. Uncle Belkram lives in this area, and on the border of this part of town, the magnificent temple of Freya was erected. W: A newer living area. This is a rather quiet, neater looking area than the NW quarters. Mostly common people live here, although the duke has a small palace here as well. Many taverns and inns are to be found in this area, since many merchants stay here when they are temporarily in town. CENTER: This part contains the Temple of Hephaestus and the local barracks. Quite a few guards are stationed here, especially after the recent rumors of Orc attacks in the sound of the Duchy. Furthermore there are many houses with common people, little shiops etc in this area. Even though the alleys and such are just as bad as in your area, the streets are a lot safer here due to the barracks being right in the middle. Many patrols walk their beat in here, or pass after their shift.