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Author Topic: Malgion's Hideout(Voldar)  (Read 25894 times)
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Kalína Dalá'isyrás
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« on: February 05, 2005, 09:09:22 PM »

The little shack does not stand out at all from the rest of the houses, on the long winding road. It is a normal house in the main room, but a hidden doorway leads to the next. A dark room, no windows, one door, dust fills the room. The walls bare, a few chairs and a cot are the only furnishings. A dank musty smell is the only scent in the rundown building
« Last Edit: October 05, 2007, 01:43:34 AM by Capher » Logged

Insanity is only a perception made by those who have yet to attain its greatness. While those of us who have already stepped inside its bounds find bliss in our utter madness.
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Vylias
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« Reply #1 on: March 31, 2006, 12:38:23 AM »

Malgion

The dark windowless room was filled almost to bursting with men and women. Even though it was early many were already well into their cups, while little pickpockets stared with envy as a few plump whores stuffed their mouths with cakes. It was a rag-tag group, all familiar with each other if not all friends. Then again with a bunch of thieves, assassins and whores who are much more likely to stab you in the back only a fool would consider them friends.

That so called fooled lounged in his cot with his hands behind his head and his feet crossed his ankles. A hat covered half his eyes and sandy brown hair peaked out with an unkempt attitude. This slim man seemed completely at ease with the group.

"Don'tcha think ye should be gettin' out of bed sir," came a whisper from his right hand man, a quiet and learned fellow that had fallen into the habit of talking like the rest of the troop.

With the barest of shrugs Malgion sunk deeper into his cot. "Looks like their getting along fine," He mumbled.

"But the tourney-"

"Ah, yes!" Then in half a blink he was on his feet, doing a little jig. "The tourney, the tourney. All those fresh purses just begging to be released from the stuffy waists of those most fortunate ladies and gentlemen."

The troop laughed at Malgion antics, but just as quick he was serious. "So I don't want none of ya to be coming back with only a few sans in hand. Anyone who dares will be considered a cheat and no one goes about cheating the leaders of the MadCaps, ye hear?"

There was a resounding yes and nervous laughter. Malgion's sharp hazel eyes, more green than any other shade, seemed to pin down the entire assembly. There was something cold in them and maybe a bit mad. Then just as suddenly he was smiling and handing out bread to the waft like pickpockets.

"We can't have you too hungry. We want you at your best."

These constant shifts in personality have given their leader the rumor of being a bit on the insane side, but none of that tended to prevent him form filling out his duty. There was a shrewdness in him that gave the MadCaps no doubt he knew exactly what he was doing, though other outside his group would underestimate him and soon found themselves on their way to greet Avá the beautiful.

"It'll be grand, coins practically spilling into your capable hands. And not even the guards will blame you for making use of such an opportunity. Of course, they should be quite detained by our lovely ladies." He winked at the girls, which was followed by a laugh. "This is a day where everyone is to get their share, even the MadCaps!" He said in a loud shout, which the MadCaps responded with a rallying yell. Malgion grinned.

"And whose to blame us if we get a bit extra with our hard work," there were laughs and more shouts.

"Well then it's settled then. I want some guards on the girls. You'll  get a split of the profits so make sure she's as diligent just as much as you."

"Oh their diligent, always asking for a little something free." This brought some snickering.

"All those who find themselves slowing down in age should make sure to have their gauze and canes with a hat out for those people a bit generous for the tourney. Practice your moans of suffering and know your sad tale well."

"All the others, you know what ye need to do. And I want to hear no excuses. Now off with you and make sure that you have some fun out there."

A resounding 'Aye!' burst through the air as the MadCaps made their way out of the hideout and into the streets, each one eyes glimmering with the prospects of the day and not a bit of fear of what would happen if they failed to bring more than just a few sans.

Edited by: Vylias at: 3/31/06 15:13
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Vylias
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« Reply #2 on: April 01, 2006, 12:11:23 AM »

Malgion

Malgion straddled a chair and a sudden silence filled the room. Avery, his right hand man, sat near by. In a corner a large figure also watched Maligon, not saying a word. It went on for some time until sudden Malgion was on his feet.
"Avery I'll think I'll go as a noble this time. Much more efficient." Avery nodded and began to air out one of the many outfits Malgion was fond of wearing. He had an entire closet full of different clothes to try to set off certain types of apperances.

"I really don't understand your fetish with costumes," Avery said as he pulled out the rich attire.

Malgion just laughed at him. "Every man has his masks I just have more than some."

"Really and I thought it was merely insanity."

Malgion gave Avery a pat on the back. "You've fallen for it too. I really am I great actor then."

Avery nodded. "Indeed, you have even fooled yourself."

Malgion ignored his words and plopped into his cot, sliding back into the comfortable position he had held before the MadCaps rallying. "I have a job for you Avery."

Avery paused, his hands shaking a little, but his voice stayed calm. "Yes?"

"I've noticed there have been a few outsiders playing in our turf. Now I don't mind this so much, especially the assassins, since ours had been overworked during King Cedric's reign. Now the thing is that none of them has given us our dues. Now that's just not good manners. If there is anything I can't stand is disrespect." He paused here and raised his hat a little. "I need you to keep an eye out on things today. You know the transactions I'm talking about. Find out about newcomers and if any of them are being disrespectful. We'll just need the usual information." He shrugged. "Maybe if we're lucky we'll find some new recruits for the MadCaps."

Avery nodded. "Of course." It was with some relief that this was all Malgion was asking. Lately Malgion had been asking for more risker business from Avery and his troop of 'scouts'.

"If I'm doing that Malgion then I guess Jarth will be with you."

"Of course, ain't that right Jarth?"
The large figure in the corner grunted.

"Nobles these day just can't be too careful." Malgion said with a sigh. "Have to make sure they have a guard with them."

Jarth grunted again.

"Well enough of that. I'm going to get some more shut eye until its around time for me to get ready," and with that Malgion was quiet, though whether he really slept was another question.

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Vylias
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« Reply #3 on: April 04, 2006, 10:13:23 AM »

Avery

"Now remember what I have said Avery."

"Of course, my Lord," Avery replied. The titled slipped out before Avery could hold it back. Malgion's whole manner had changed and it seemed completely natural to call him so.

Instead of Malgion laughing he took it as if it was his due. Without further comment he left the hideout with Jarth as his personal guard. The pair looked every bit the part and he found himself bothered by it.

For some time Avery had wondered about the origins of both Malgion and Jarth. Malgion was a good enough actor to make people believe he was a noble, but it was surprising that he could rub elbows with other nobles without them knowing the difference. It made Avery think there was much more to Malgion than the MadCaps knew.

"Could he really be nobility?" Avery whispered to himself. He shook his head firmly. It was impossible. Why would a noble decide to run the thieves guild? He brushed off the idea and a few moments later left the hideout as he went to give orders to his scouts and follow the orders Malgion had given him.

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Capher
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« Reply #4 on: March 22, 2007, 09:56:04 AM »

Most of the thieves, whores and other rift raft were out doing buisness; all, except those who worked at night and those were lying fast asleep in nooks and crannies all over the hideout.

Malgion was fast asleep as well.  His belly full of food and his mind and senses dulled by wine.  Perhaps if it were not for the latter he would have sensed the intruders, his usually cat like reflexes would have saved his life.  The hand was over his mouth and the blade already slicing its way across his throat before his mind comprehended.  He struggled very little, his eyes wide open not in fright or terror but in confusion.  His last thought was Who are you? as he stared into the bleak face and hard diamond blue like eyes that stared back at him.

It had happend so fast that most of the those in the hideout were still asleep and did not even know what had happened until they were rudely awoken by the tapping of swords upon their arms or shoulders. Those that had been awake and were supposedly keeping watch had been quickly dispatched and cowled men had taken their bodies and dumped them uncerimonously in the middle of the floor. When a very large big man also cowled came forth from Malgion's bedchamber carring his body over his shoulder and dumped it upon the rest some of the whores let out a cry and wept.

The man stood in the middle of the room and spoke with a rich baritone voice. "I am Chykolis and I claim my right to be the leader of the MadCaps by deposing the former leader. Anyone who wishes to deny me that right may step up and try to do so."

The man turned around slowly, his charcoal grey robe swirled around him like chimney smoke, his eyes locking briefly on any who would even dare to look at him.  He seemed to carry no weapon but no one in the room took up the challenge. "Good, buisness will continue as usual except that there will be these men and possibly more, so for those of you who did have bedchambers you no longer have them."

There were some grumbles but the few who did have bedchambers or even beds took their belongings and put them into an unoccupied corners.  They all knew the rules of the society in which they lived and belonged to and even if some were saddened by the death of Malgion they accepted their new leader, though some wondered what kind of leader he was and what was expected of them.  Horace was one of them.

Horace was a thin faced old man with sparse grey hair that barely covered his head. He stood upon his one good leg and a wooden crutch in place of his missing leg and cleared his throat. "Good Master, what shall we call you and what shall be your price?"  He asked.

The man turned and stared at Horace and beckoned him closer.  Horace hobbled over to the man and looked up into the cowl into blue eyes that burned with intensity and Horace could have sworn could see right through him. "I told you my name was Chykolis and what do you mean by price?" The man's voice was rich and vibrant and it seemed to fill the room even though he spoke in a normal tone.

"I only asked good Ma...Chykolis because Malgion," he nodded at the dead man lying a top of the pile of other men," had told us to call him lord. He gave himself a title.  I just thought you would want a title as well."

"Weak men need titles. I do not need one. Now what is this about price?"

"Lord Malgion's take was 15 percent of whatever we earned for the day. I was just wondering what your price would be?" Horace asked.

The man stared at Horace and Horace stared right back, if he was going to die this day then so be it. He was crippled, old and the streets had not been kind to him, though Malgion and his tall dark scarred faced friend had been; especially the latter man.  Horace wondered what that man would say when he found out that Malgion was dead and Chykolis had taken his place?

"I admire your spirit old man. Out of all of the others only you had the courage to address me. What is your name?"

" Horace. And I know some of courage for I once was a soldier, but now I am old and not afraid to die." Horace said.

"You shall be my ambassador."

"Ambassador?" Horace asked curiously.

"Yes an ambassador. A person who speaks for the leader to the those of other countries."

"I know what an ambassador is Chykolis. What country are you speaking of?"

"Why yours of course.  I am not of this country or people. I need someone who speaks to them in their language."

Horace laughed and immediately regretted doing so when a huge hand quickly surrounded his throat with large strong fingers.  "I apologize Chykolis. I laughed because you need no one to speak for you.  We are nothing but thieves, beggars, whores, cut throats and murderers. Once you deposed our former leader we all understood." Horace choked out.

The fingers slowly loosened their vise like grip. The face leaned back and then Chykolis turned and walked up the dias toward Malgion's fake throne. "Never apologize Horace and you can tell my people that they can keep all that they earn all I ask for in return is their complete and unutterable obedience and loyalty. Any who is found not to be will face my wrath."

He paused as he looked at the throne. "Have men destroy this monstrosity and just have them steal twelve wooden chairs, upholstered with royal blue cloth. If none can be stolen then make them. I want them arranged upon this dias in a half circle around a large round table, my chair of course will be set a bit taller than the rest.  I and the ten who will be with me will sit at this table along with you Horace.  I want all of this to be done by the time I come back."

"As you wish Chykolis. When will you return?" Horace asked.

"In two days time." Chykolis answered and then he and his men left the room.

Horace stood watching the door for a moment and then turned around and looked at the faces staring at him. "Well, you heard the man. Get the word out. We have a new leader and we need those chairs and table all in two days."

Men, women and boys scattered like ratbrownies caught in the light.  Horace stood there wondering who this Chykolis was and what was all that talk of not being of this country and how was he to tell this all to Damien?
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Fallen
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« Reply #5 on: April 27, 2007, 04:41:48 AM »

Fallen trudged slowly through the icy air, his booted feet leaving trails in the snow. His head was bowed, the leather hood pulled up to avert the worst of the blizzard. Arms crossed across his chest, the elf was lost in thought. The cripple-winged tager walked silently besides his comrade, his scaly head scanning the dark, snow congealed alley.

Fallen thought back to just a couple hours ago, when he had conversed with Chykolis himself. The bulky man had taken interest in him immediately. He offered Fallen a place where he'd be accepted, a position of leadership. Fallen had whole-heartedly accepted the proposition, and was on his way to claim leadership of a group by name of the MadCaps. A ridiculous name to be sure, but what did it matter?

Looking up into the distance, he spotted his destination. A run-down, wretched place; one that fitted him perfectly. Arriving at the doorstep, Fallen signaled his bestial friend to remain outside. Grasping the door-handle with stiff fingers, the elf slowly pulled it open and stepped inside.
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If madness was a murder... I'd be a killing spree

  Fallen
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« Reply #6 on: April 28, 2007, 01:45:21 AM »

When the door opened into the darkened hallway lit only by a small torch the two theives guarding the door quickly pulled their daggars, farther down the hallway an archer pulled his bowstring. Whoever walked through that door had better be someone they know, or the password or else they will meet their end...quickly.
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Fallen
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« Reply #7 on: April 28, 2007, 02:08:46 AM »

Fallen saw the glint of steel in the torchlight, heard the sound of a drawn bowstring. Impressive, he thought, For an underground organization, they sure know how to take care of their interests.

In a soft voice he said to the darkness, "Now now, Chykolis wouldn't want that, would he? I'll be sure to let him know you're doing a good job when I get around to it. Down to business, who's in charge here?" The elf finished with a laugh dancing in his eyes.
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If madness was a murder... I'd be a killing spree

  Fallen
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« Reply #8 on: May 01, 2007, 12:48:21 AM »

The guards heard the name Chykolis and slowly sheathed their daggars.  The archer let loose his bowstring and placed the unused arrow back in its quiver.

"That would be Horace," One of the guards answered. "Just follow this hallway until you come to a T then turn left, do not go right, as there are traps set in the floor. There are several doors on either side of of the hallway, do not open any of them, or you will be killed instantly by more traps.  Walk all the way until you come to a wall.  Tap on the wall two times, pause, three times, pause and then once.  Then gather your balance as the floor beneath you will sink.

Once you are in the lower level walk forward until you reach another wall. A pair of scone's are set in the wall, Now listen carefully or else you will die; pull the left one twice, as soon as you hear a click, pull the right one once, you will hear another click, then pull the same one once again. The wall will open and you will be standing inside the foyer of the main hall of the MadCaps. Horace and several others will be there. I hope you were listening, I do not tell this twice," he scratched a lesion off his his nose with immediately began to leak blood. The man did not seem to notice, "Go now and remember you will have eyes on you all the way."
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Fallen
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« Reply #9 on: May 01, 2007, 08:39:17 AM »

Fallen listened to the guard's instructions intently, being careful not to miss a thing. Living among the Coorhem had taught him taught him to pay attention to every detail, or perish. The elf raised his eyebrows at the complex instructions. It seems they're much more sophisticated than I thought... this shall be interesting

Looking in distaste at the blood dripping down the guard's nose, Fallen nodded and set off down the hallway. Coming to the intersection, the elf carefully chose the left. Upon reaching the wall, he raised his gloved right hand; knocking twice, pausing, thrice, pausing, then once more. Even with forewarning, the elf was slightly startled as the floor sank, bringing him with it. As the ground became steady once more, he set off down the hallways, coming upon another wall. Grabbing the left sconce, he pulled twice; once hearing the click, he pulled the right one, click, then pulled it again.

As the wall gave way to reveal a populated room, Fallen stepped forward slowly, his iron-shod boots clanking loudly on the floor. Staring around at the misfits, he noticed one used crutches. Clearing his throat, he announced, "I've been sent by Chykolis with a message, for a man named Horace."
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If madness was a murder... I'd be a killing spree

  Fallen
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« Reply #10 on: May 03, 2007, 03:15:52 AM »

Horace was watching the men set up the table and chairs as Chykolis had instructed when a stranger came into the main hall and announced, "I've been sent by Chykolis with a message, for a man named Horace."

Horace turned and looked at the stranger. "I be Horace, stranger. What message do you carry from our esteemed leader?" Horace asked.
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Fallen
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« Reply #11 on: May 04, 2007, 06:46:23 AM »

The elf was somewhat surprised to see the cripple claim leadership. Though, looks can be deceiving, as he had often learned. 'Never take someone for granted' was a rule you quickly learned living in Crystal Woods. Glancing around at the setting up of several upholstered chairs, Fallen gave a graceful bow and straightened, clearing his throat.

"Sir Horace, I have been granted permission from your leader, now mine as well, to assume control of the MadCaps in his stead. I have been instructed to come here and deliver this information to you, and inform all of you that you are to abide by me when Chykolis is absent." Taking notice of everyone's reactions, the elf concluded, "He saw in me the neccessary qualities to direct this group, and I only hope you'll agree with his decision."
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If madness was a murder... I'd be a killing spree

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« Reply #12 on: May 05, 2007, 02:11:52 AM »

Horace's face grew darker as he listened to the speech from the stranger. Horace was just starting to like his new position and he knew that secretly in that position he would know everything that is going on and would be able to eventually inform Damien.  Damien would defiantely want to know about the new leadership of the MadCaps.

Horace hobbled over to one of the chairs and sat down. He poured himself a cup of wine, staring into the red color thinking...Should he challenge this stranger? If he did he probably would die. He thought he had seen elven features on Chykolis's men and figured that Chykolis himself was an elf, but now with the appearance of this elf; his suspicions had been founded.  The question was, why elves?  What is their purpose? The elven population usually did not associate with the underground; they felt it was beneath their dignity. So why now?

Horace decided that it would be best to live and hopefully report to Damien than challenge this stranger and die. "We know not your name stranger. Come, rest your feet, warm yourself by the fire. If you are hungry or thirsty we have plenty," he said motioning to the chair to the left of him.
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Fallen
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« Reply #13 on: May 05, 2007, 02:24:23 AM »

The elf noticed Horace's darkening face as the man hobbled to a chair and served himself. Tensing, he was prepared to meet opposition, but was somewhat relieved and surprised when none was forthcoming.

Raising his head so that his ithild eyes caught the light and displayed the markings under his eyes, he stated in a raspy, carrying voice, "You will know me as Fallen, no fancy titles or nonsense; just Fallen."

As Horace offered a seat beside him, the elf gladly accepted. Striding slowly over, he sat down next to the man. Pouring himself some red wine, Fallen topped it off quickly, and filled another, staring into the blood-colored liquid and thinking.
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If madness was a murder... I'd be a killing spree

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« Reply #14 on: May 07, 2007, 04:22:09 AM »

"Fallen it shall be then," replied Horace, noticing how Fallen drank down his first cup of wine. "Wine warms the belly, not as much as dwarven ale mind you, but wine won't burn your insides out either," Horace said as he poured himself another cup. "So Fallen do you have any specific plans for us or is it buisness as usual?" Horace asked pleasantly.

Several whores came in out of the cold, shook themselves off and made their way to their beds.  A buxom brunette with a slight pockmarked face and large brown eyes made contact with the stranger and swished her way over to him, her hips swayed exaggerated in their movements.  She winked at Horace and then plopped herself down beside the stranger, smiled at him, bent low to show him her more than ample assets. "Hi friend, care for some company on this cold night?" She asked.

"Paula, now is not the time."

Paula gazed lustily at the man with the strange markings under his eyes and saw that he was elven. She had never had an elf before. "It is always time for this, Horace," She said.

"I am sorry Fallen, but Paula is one of the more aggressive women we have working for us,"  He glared at Paula. "Paula this is our new leader. His name is Fallen. And I am sure if he wanted female companionship right now he would search one out; right now we are just getting to know one another."

Paula traced a finger up Fallen's right arm, hungrily looking at Fallen. "Horace, that is all that I am trying to do; get to know him. And I bet I can get to know him better than you ever could." She said with a light silvery laugh.

She rose and bowed deeply, "Welcome Fallen. I am your most humble obiedient servant, Paula. Command me and I will make your every desire and wish come true."  She lifted her head, staring at Fallen's eyes.
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