Illarion.org

((Semi-open board RP with elements that will be taking place both In and out of game. Reactionary posts from those whose character's live in the regions these events take place in are completely welcome. Most posts made to this thread will be in the past tense.))


On the isle of Tol Vanima Rumor has it the goblin’s that live beneath the surface of the land suffered the intrusion of a mysterious attacker late in the prior evening. Those few goblins that have come to the surface seeking answers speak vaguely of stolen documents from their work tables and felled comrades in there halls. Despite the frantic nature of their inquiries to local elves and passer’s by the goblins seem unwilling to speak specifically about whatever it was they lost…


On the surface, the isle of Tol Vamina slept peacefully blanketed by a darkened sky filled with a wide array of twinkling stars that hung high above the modest isle. Beneath the surface however, the tranquility of the surface world was not but a dream, the goblins, the keepers of the isles depth were frenzied. Throughout the cavernous hallways swaying lantern lights could be seen and frantic footfalls could be heard mixed with the hectic sound of calls and shouts echoing through the tunnels. An intruder had been spotted lurking the shadows but where he was hiding the Goblin sentries did not know.
For the intruder, hooded and heavily robed as he was; staying hidden was merely a formality to avoid confrontation. He was confident enough that he could manage to stave off a few of the diminutive creatures without much trouble. Unfortunately for him his particular style of combat was quite distinctive, to fight would mean taking on the task of leaving no witnesses behind to tell tale of his intrusion.
He clung to the darkness as a pair of lights sped by through the tunnel in which he hid. The natural cave walls had a way of playing with light even at a close proximity. As long as none of the sentries had reason to come to close ducking down and freezing still as a stone made him indistinguishable from the shadows. Once the lights faded up the intruder rose, making haste down the passage from which the lantern bearers had come.
Hastily but carefully he continued down the passage, seeking a crevasse to hide in whenever a sound to loud to be natural echoed down the hallway. Surprisingly despite the racket of the search he reached the end of the tunnel without encounter. There he found a ladder leading further into the depths of the Goblin caves. What he was after was beyond this entry but surely the opposition he found below would be thicker and more watchful then what he had faced so far. Well, it mattered not to the intruder; there was no turning back for him now after coming this far. He descended the ladder…
Right into the path of a pair of armed sentries. Two set of black beady eyes sitting upon stone hard faces stared at him with resolve. The stubby green skinned creatures seemed more surprised by his sudden emergence then he was in running into them. He acted swiftly, taking their surprise and making it his advantage. A swift hand draw a thin blade from the hidden confine of his robe and thrust the silvery length of steel forward without delay, right into the throat of the nearest sentry. The Rapier pierced his opponents flesh with a sickening ease, silencing any chance of a cry of pain or warning. The only sound emitted from the dying creature was a guttural, gurgling groan. The intruder withdrew the blade from the goblin even as his body went slack with death.
He whirls to the next goblin, which had drawn its weapon as it watched it comrade die. Perhaps it was anger that kept the sentry from calling out for help, wanting to slay the killer of his comrade with his own avenging hand. The intruder didn’t know for certain nor did he have time to chance the goblin deciding to be prudent, he would take no chances.
Softly the stranger whispered a litany of words, sounds the resonated strangely in the musty cavern air. The Goblin did not move, could not move as the whispered spell held him fast. Only the little creature’s eyes moving about in his had distinguished him from a lifeless statue. The stranger approached the goblin with a thrust of his rapier….Now his impression of a statue was perfect.
The intruder wipes his rapier clean with the end up his cloak, then slide the weapon home into its concealed sheath. He did not waste time gloating over the fallen sentries, he had not the time nor the discourteous to do such a thing. Instead he turned his attentions beyond the dead goblins and down the expanse of the cavern. He ran now, giving up the pretense of hiding all together. It would not be long before the corpses he’d made were found. Before that happened he needed to get what he had come for and be on his way to freedom. There were fates worse then being captured by goblin’s if he failed…steeling himself with the notion the intruder sped onward. These danger’s he could handle…the other potential fate that awaited was something he could not and would not bother to fathom…not while there was breath left in his body for the task at hand.

Recently travelers in the Kumdah desert have been telling the tale of strange sightings while traversing the sands. Just before sunset some claim that puffy smoke will seep up through the sands in various places.

The cavern reeked of industry; a thick almost sulfurous smell molten metal’s combined itself with the pungent scent of unknown chemicals into a noxious cloud of barely breathable odor. Sourly the man held his place, casting his gaze around the darkened expanse, with nothing but a single lantern to beat back the darkened shadows. Even in the dark he could fine this place, just with his nose alone. It was the kind of smell that even someone unfamiliar with alchemy would recognize as a true oddity. As an alchemist himself, whose nose had over the count of a dozen years breathed in scents both sweet and deplorable, the thing his nose told him now was that whatever was being brewed beneath the desert was based on no formula he knew.
Well truth be told he’d known that from the very moment he had handled his first tiny vial of the mysterious substance. His alchemic sight had been unable to give him even the slightest notion of what the fluid was composed of. That had led him to a single conclusion, that whatever the liquid was it was made of things that did not come from the flora, more than that, it was nearly entirely manufactured.
He was a traveled man, of mid life, with knowledge hard won through trial and error and the journey of life. In his years he had seen such things before; they were born of after effect. They were By-product of successful work formed of the wastes and unwanted. Such things were meant to be thrown away. He knew that and yet here he was waiting to do the exact opposite of discarding this waste. Instead he would sell it. He would sweeten it and make it smell of ripened fruit and then he would distribute it to as many people as he could find.
He clenched a fistful of his robe so tightly that his knuckles turned white with the pressure. What he was doing went against every moral fiber of his being; it disgusted him in earnest that he who had sworn his life to the advancement of his craft would play a part in this sinister collaboration. He did not know where the liquid came from nor did he know the origins behind it, all he knew was that he no longer had a choice. There was a secret agenda and powerful beings behind this debauchery and if he crossed them it would not be only his life that was the forfeit of his treachery.
Foot falls sounded in nearby and the alchemist turned in the direction of the echo. Into the lantern light a figure came, an effigy of the shadows itself. A black robed figure stood before him, its head low and hidden from the lantern light. The sudden appearance of the newcomer sent a shiver down his spine. Some of those who he unwillingly worked with were themselves in his same position. They worked under duress, to protect their lives, their families and the things precious to them. That was some of them…but others did this of their own volition. He’d heard rumor that some of them had strange ways about them. There were even whispers that they could see into one’s soul.
Had this stranger seen his thoughts? Did it know how much he was sickened by his own actions and take offense. The alchemist dared not speak or move, with his breath caught in his throat he waited. The figure said nothing; it simply stood before him in eerie silence. His mind began to fill with frantic questions. Was it watching him? Was t in his head peering at all his hidden secrets? Was it angry, furious? Would he ever leave this cavern alive?
The thud of a small wooden box striking the stony ground caught him off guard and the alchemist couldn’t help but to yelp in surprise.
“Trollsbane.” The cloaked figure said in a singularly commanding tone and then it turned and stalked back into the shadows.
He nodded numbly to the darkness, though the stranger had already appeared to be gone. There was no choice but to do what he was told. The alchemist bent low and retrieved the crate.
“No choice.” He said, repeating the words that echoed his thoughts. “No choice at all.”


((There will be one or more RP Apothecaries running about the town a few times in the coming weeks. It is strictly an RP scenario, so if anyone is interested in meeting one of the Apothecaries and taking part in this RP send a PM and we’ll see what we can do, or if you meet one IG feel free to take part in the RP))