Plot: The Life and Times of the Bhaliiran Power-Hungry!



  • To Lizzy, rooster, and Luinil you kebab disappearing dane, as well as any dm who wishes to chip in.

    In about a week, I will begin to write the plot of Bhaliir during his end. I am hoping Lizzy will find time to act as co writer on this.

    It will of course not be posted until a dm allows it to be somewhat spoiler free. But, i think its a good place to start things off yet again.

    Anyhow, what I need is info from you guys. If i cant optain acces to the forum, I will need someone to extract my journal from the Bhaliir forum. Help with what is important. We will do this through pms at first, to avoid possible spoilers.

    If a dm feels like chipping in with info on Lheskar that could help, I would greatly appreciate it. Syntax or Cake perhaps?

    Cheers, and have a nice week until I am once more able to check the forum on the 12th.

    -Rusty
    (Oh, and whomever said i would be back after a week has officially lost his bet on the poll section, hehe. )



  • Well, i've certainly got time, and i'd be all up for re-starting the project.

    Though as far as I know, things are far from dead regarding that estate, and Bhaliir secrets are only ever spoken behind closed doors.

    I'm in, but I think I'll let you cover the majority of the plot this time around. Oh, and my inbox is somewhere near 100%, so warn me advance before any PMs start flying ><



  • Perfect Lizzy.

    When you get around to it, can you copy Lauras journal to me? You have like 10 days until i am back, so you have lots of time.



  • Whatever sort of assistance i can be, you have it.



  • Well it's more likely that I'll be able to fit in something here than play CoA, so let's get this ball rolling:

    What are your thoughts on start/end points if you guys still have nothing better to do than this? Personally, I'm thinking…

    That the main focus of the story (setting-wise) should be the Cult, since from my PoV, that's really what everything was centered around in the end. (for Brannus at least, Calvin for the most part I'd imagine, and afaik Laura got her hands dirty with the Wulf business too at least)

    The theme of never being certain who was friend and who foe: for instance, Laura's suspicions about Calvin being a cultist, which ultimately were revealed to be warranted when Calv had his talk with Brannus. It would be nice if that revelation was kept 'till that talk. Same regarding Laura; where rumours were abound about everything from bloodstone smuggling to murders and whatever else was floating about, yet she remained politically correct until Wulf dropped by, if you maybe didn't delve into the character so much as to make it obvious Laura's nature until that part where she gets revealed for the cunning, mocking evil she was at the core.

    As for the ending, I had three in mind, one for each central character.
    Laura… well, there's only so much that can be said for dying on a DM miniplot you got involved with a week or so before, but I'll leave that up to you. It may be better to finish on a different note where Laura's being Laura, rather than duelling ogre berserkers in a cave, and Calvin can wrap it up with a note on seeing Laura's body arrive at the estate, and I can do the funeral-preperations etc.
    Calvin: Oooee, not sure if this is possible. The sewers-chase is a good point, and being left top-side to the crows by Brannus+co. Devious as he was, it must still have been something of a hit when Brannus left you to your death, but ah.. unfortunately, I'm guessing that's as far as can be written regarding Calvin's untimely demise.



  • Bhaliir is not ended!! 😮



  • @AchiElo:

    Bhaliir is not ended!! 😮

    That's why I suggested changing the central plot to the Orcus Cult. Read the post, you ninnyhammer! If that's the way it goes, I'll change the topic title to something more fitting. Maybe The Life and Times of the Power-Hungry.



  • The cool, sleek metal made the tiniest of squeaks as Brannus opened and closed his hand before his eyes. Feelings of disbelief, of awe, of amusement all ran through his mind which was too blank at the moment to comprehend any of them, so he just let his face grin like it wanted to. In seconds, everything else had been forgotten – the long trek east over swamp and mountain, the mithral, the murders, the exile, all in the past and forever beyond tormenting him – and all that mattered was the present.
    “Nice, isn’t it?â€



  • The point of no return

    The sun was sending its last warm rays of sunshine over the crowded market as Laura entered it, in search of a bread seller. She had been busy, too busy this day to even think about food. Too much paperwork, too many translations and errands to run, and work days that started before rose in the morning, and didn’t end until the moon had long since taken its place. It has been like this for a few years now, ever since she had returned to her birthplace from the schools of Suzail. She looked around irritated, flicking a few stray hairs behind her ear in frustration of not finding what she was looking for.
    Where was that damn bread seller when you needed him?! Her stomach began to ache, and for a short moment, Laura felt tempted to find a food merchant of a less human heritage but she quickly discarded the idea; The Lord would surely hear of it, and it would definitely not aid her chances. Greatly disappointed, she turned towards the Dancing Dragon, yet before she could take even a single step, a most handsome man appeared as if out of thin air beside her. Dressed not in the usual Bhaliir garments, this man had the golden markings only carried by a single person in the household, Guard Captain Jacobi. This most handsome young man was almost breathtaking. His mix of brown and blond hair, his elegant and slightly arrogant features, and his posture made him both very attractive, yet also quite scary.
    -Miss Greymourne? Is that you my dear? Laura nodded solemnly, and coughed once before answering to avoid a hoarse voice.
    -Ye-yes sir, it is I. How may I be of assistance sir?
    -The Lord has sent for you, Miss Greymourne.
    Nodding towards the southern parts of Arabel with a warm smile, Jacobi began to lead the young woman through the busy streets of Arabel. As they walked, Laura began to feel the butterflies in her stomach. This was what she had been working towards for so long; this was the dream come true.
    Atton lead her through the southern parts of town, and as they passed the front guards outside the huge estate, Laura was quick to notice the slightly covering the guards did when they noticed Atton, the same way many commoners had acted, an odd mix of awe and fear. Laura caught herself feeling envious, and hoping that one day people would act similar when they met her someday.

    They entered the large oak doors leading into the estate. Though Laura had heard many rumours of the place, she had never had the pleasure of seeing the inside with her own eyes. Atton gave her the large tour, explaining as they went along of the various paintings and decorations that were of note, as well as introducing her to house scribe and oddly enough the chef as well. As they passed through the library, Atton stopped next to a large book, and his friendly and joyful expression suddenly became a bit more serious. Looking Laura deep into the eyes in a way that made her feel as if he was looking at her very soul, he began speaking.

    • Do you know what makes a good retainer Miss Greymourne? If you had asked Mr Thond, he would likely go on about caravan guarding, adventure and business deals. The Brute to the north would speak of honour, lack of brains and large muscles. However, The Master requires much more. While he has had many good merchants, broad shouldered individuals, and people who have mastered the art of waking silently, the ones in this book, the ones who are remembered, as the ones who would refer to themselves as problem solvers. That is what I hope you are, Miss Greymourne. I hope you are one who can think outside the box, and who can take care of what needs taking care of. The Lord requires finesse rather than brute strength, and intelligent plans rather than rash action. Do you understand, Miss Greymourne?

    Looking at the book and the names within, Laura knew better than ever, that she wanted her name in said book. Taking a moment before answering, she finally returned her gaze to Atton and nodded solemnly.
    -Y-yes sir, I do. I wont disappoint you sir, I promise.

    • Please, Miss Greymourne, Atton will do. Come.
      He led her through the maze-like estate and led her down a long stair case, and through more maze-build hallways, often passing quiet and vigilant guards, looking quite intimidating. Walking through the estate, she began to notice the almost unnatural quiet that reigned supreme in the estate. It felt almost like walking around in an old tomb, except for the lack of cobwebs. Everything looked expensive and exotic, clearly showing the lords extensive wealth. Atton took out a key and opened the heavy metal door they had stopped at. As he opened it, she first thought he had led her into another kitchen. The smell of dried blood, of rust and of decay ruled supreme behind this heavy metal door. Looking into it, she began to see chains with odd spikes, but also chains made for imprisonment. To the south, or was it north, Laura had lost all sense of direction, were a few old jail cells. Atton led her over to one, and as she looked in, a body was laying within. The body, except for a small cloth covering the absolute most private parts of the male anatomy, was covered in bruises, wounds and dried blood. The man’s head was a metal helmet of sorts, clearly an invention made to cover the prisoner’s identity.
      Atton opened the cell door with a key, and Laura frowned at the sound of metal scrapping against stone. Jacobi stepped a few steps back, drew a dagger and threw it between Laura and the prisoner.
      -This man is a criminal, Miss Greymourne. How do you treat criminals?
    • What has he done, sir?
      -Does it matter? A criminal is a criminal…
      Looking clearly bewildered, she looked at Atton.
      -I don’t follow sir. I hate criminals, but… We have a system, I cannot just kill him?
      -The system is weak. The man will be out on the streets again in a day if you do not stop him.
      As he said this, a door opened and a man entered, covered in a large cloak. As he let the hood fall, he nodded in acknowledgement to Atton, and then planted his stare at the criminal.
      -But, I am not a murderer Atton. Please, I cant do this.
      -So you accept criminals, Laura? I thought you wanted to stop them, harsher penalties, more strict laws to protect the citizens. Or was that lies?
      The man led his hood fall and waved Atton closer. Seeing who the man was, she fell to her knees and lowered her head.
    • My lord! I… I cannot do this… I cannot kill another being, no matter what he has done!
      Both Atton and the Lord turned their backs at Laura, the lord not even acknowledging her presence. Though as Atton turned, Laura thought she was a sign of warning in Atton’s eyes. Or perhaps disgust, she wasn’t sure. This is it, Laura. You have worked at this ever since they moved to Suzail. If they are going to kill him, then you are going to die too. Its you or him. It’s a test, she said to herself, and not one you want to lose. Slowly she looked down at the dagger a few feet from her. It didn’t feel like she moved, yet she could feel her legs move. Then feel her body bend down and pick it up. Sending one last look back to the two men, she walked into the cell, her hands shaking…
      Hearing the man scream, and the sound of the helmet hitting the stone floor, the lord turned around, sent her a warm and friendly smile.
    • It is good to have you here, Laura Greymourne.
    • My life is yours, Master.
      Though she managed to send him a smile, she knew then, that there was more far more truth to her sentence that she first realised.


  • Three Schemers in a Tub

    “These are dangerous times,â€



  • Departure

    The steel on his skin felt cumbersome, but at the same time there was a feeling of freedom in his spirit. Brannus’ old uniform lay on the table in a passably neat manner, down to the cloak, while he tied on his new gauntlets. The armour was dwarf steel, but tailored by himself, and not an easy piece to assemble for it; but that was alright, he wasn’t planning on removing it any time soon, not where he was going. Bhaliir was gone; Laura was dead; why should he have to dwell in the empty space left in their wake? He had no more reason to stay, no more reason to defend the actions of either one at risk to himself. With one last tug, Brannus secured the heavy glove to his left hand, and looked at his new helmet. It was a dyed green so dark as to nearly be black, just like the rest of his armour, and fairly plain though well made. There was a grate for breathing, two slits for eyes, and that was all; no visor, he did not plan to remove his helmet or show his face much either in the coming days.
    The sound of footsteps brought him out of his brooding. Since Bhaliir’s unsuspected departing, Calvin and Temblo both had taken to longer stints out of the estate, namely because of the surviving retainers’ mutual agreement to lock and bar the door at all times and not allow any visitors in, with the now total lack of guards. It was Calvin coming down the stairs as it turned out.
    “All packed?â€



  • Folly

    The last few weeks had left Brannus more beast than man. His hair ran shaggy and uncut from head to chin, and muck and worse had made homes in his armour in more than a dozen places. Crawling through tunnels and racing through the upperdark, fighting in the streets and deep beneath the city against everything from adventurers to the undead had taken their toll. His armour was black and brown more often than not rather than the blue he used to wear, and his sword notched and going blunt.

    “Shh, someone’s coming.â€



  • Do Not Make Yourself at Home

    “Aldara? Is that you?â€


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