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| Rooftop Travels; (P) Ogre | |
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| Topic Started: Mon Oct 26, 2009 10:51 pm (91 Views) | |
| Damascus Brickburner | Mon Oct 26, 2009 10:51 pm Post #1 |
 
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The goblin stood atop a high brick building in the middle of the floating city. He could see for miles and miles around, even in the intense gloom of the dark and cloudy night. Mist clung to the stone streets, and buildings to that. Damascus appreciated the mist, it concealed him from the eyes of drunk guards, and men with stones and spears. He held a spear in his right hand, atop which clung a black and white monkey. On the man's belt hund two lanterns; one on each side of his waist. He wore a hat on his head, a large, brown, floppy affair, with a very large brim. His ears stuck out from his head and were covered with small earrings of bone and silver and wood. The man was in a crouched position, on the very edge of the roof. He crouched atop a seires of buildings that all conected via rooftop. In Damascus' mind, roofs were like trees; high, slippery when wet, and good hiding places, and he had grown up among trees, learning how to jump from each to each, sometimes clumsily, but he made it. Aseph slid down the shaft of the spear, onto the cold stone beneath. Damascus sat on a small piece of cloth, and had laid out a few articles of interest; a few kabobs, a bottle of strong liquor, and a few gold pieces. The prior was earned fairly in a game of sevens, but the rest had been nicked from a nearby cart. Damascus had little money, and he, like all people, had a stomach. He did not begin to eat right away, he stalled and looked up at the stars. They shone like pinholes in the cloak of night, twinkleing. He stretched and gazed at the misty streets below. Absolutly empty. |
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| Ogre | Tue Oct 27, 2009 12:01 am Post #2 |
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Another late night of hammering away at metals, crafting swords and shields; he had only crafted one pair of armored gauntlets, finding it too difficult for his level of skill with a forge and hammer, and leaving those to his instructor; but of course, it would not be without trading the heavy armor for shield crafting. His master left from the forge, bidding Stammer a good night and a request to close the forge when finished, but of course the being had worked quickly to tend to his own patrols, all he needed to do was clean up the shop and pile the scraps together to turn into metal-work tomorrow. As he swept up the metal pieces he neared a window which faced the street and looked up to the dark night sky with a sense of comfort. Unfortunately this sense of comfort was cut short when he saw some shadowed creature sitting on the edge of a building’s roof. Maybe he could make a quick stop before patrolling. He quickly finished his task, followed by removing a hollow stone from a corner and donning a cloak and mask, being sure to grab Reif, his longsword, before heading out the back exit. A few spry steps and a steady hand aided Steam Punk in climbing up the side of a wall, all that was left now was to leap his way towards where he had seen the dark figure, question it a bit, then take off to his normal self-appointed nightly duties. His landings were a bit clumsy from fatigue after working, but he managed to clear the gaps between roof-top and roof-top, shortening the distance between where he was, and where he was heading. It took a few moments, but at last he was on the same rooftop as whoever it was he had seen from the window of the forge. “Sto, who are you? Not many people walk the roofs, especially at night.” His voice sounded tinny through his metal mask, but he tried his best to not sound hostile, unless provoked. |
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| Damascus Brickburner | Wed Oct 28, 2009 10:47 pm Post #3 |
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Without turning to see the figure he spoke through a mouth full of bread, "I am not most people sir." he continued to eat his chicken and bread, followed by a sip of the strong liquor, "Please, if you would like to join me, help yourself." He lit the lantern on his left side and set it on the ground. The light was a dull yellow, and seemed to make Damascus' skin lose it's normal greenish hue. He looked at Aseph, who was fast asleep, and shrugged. He shifted his weight to his heels, and fell onto him bottom with a soft thump. He had eaten one kabob already, "If you want to eat you should best hurry, I am almost done." he said in a quiet voice. He did not like social situations, but he could not often avoid them, so he took them in stride. |
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| Ogre | Fri Nov 13, 2009 10:28 am Post #4 |
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“Sto… No thanks, I’m not hungry and I need to get patrolling, quickly…” The being said through the guise and name of Steam Punk with a showing bout of mild confusion. It was already odd that there was a different being on top of roofs at night, but one offering food begged question. “Sto, what are you hiding from?” He asked bluntly, taking a moment to walk over to the side of the lantern opposite this odd man with a scent dulled through the metal mask. It dawned upon Ogre that most beings wouldn’t go on a roof without good cause, and since this being seemed rather content to stay seated and eat his meal rather than move, he must have been hiding from some being or another. At least, that’s what steam thought about the situation. “Sto, I’m Steam Punk, a hero wandering the roofs at night, if you are running from somebody, I could help you out with them, maybe pummel them a bit, leave them for the guards.” He started getting lost in his thoughts as he spoke, a bit lightheaded, in fact, “Sto… if they’re obviously evil in some sort of way, we could always just make it look like you pummeled them, I don’t really need media attention.” Now he was mixing the beliefs he had learned from his parents and old stories with his situation. His mind was an odd one, a blacksmith seemed to be more his guise at times, the mask his identity, but in the end Steam Punk was always the mask, Ogre Stammer had a life, Punk had fighting evil wherever it lied within his reach, and Cascadia was the home of both. |
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| Damascus Brickburner | Fri Nov 13, 2009 7:54 pm Post #5 |
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Damascus looked at the mask wearing figure, "No, I am not running from anyone, people just tend to not like me in their bars. So I eat up here," he made an expansive gesture, "the roof tops of Cascadia." he ate a mouthful of chicken and bread, followed by a swig of liquor. "So tell me," he said while leaning back against the edge of the roof, "what caused you to do this. The whole 'patrolling the city at night' thing? I mean, it is a very kind and good thing to do, just, slightly un-orthodox." He was interested by this kid. He seemed like the type of person who had read too many stories, and wanted to be like the great heroes of old. It seemed like this person could actually stop wrongdoers. Damascus was about to say something about Steam's mask, but he was cut off by the shrill scream of a woman. He stood upright immediately, lighting one lantern with a match, setting it down on the ground and let it rise freely to his eye level. He looked through the moonlight twilight of darkness, muttering a few words under his breath, causing his vision to lengthen. He saw several dark shapes, surrounding one holding a lantern. The body holding the lantern was shaking. There were several smaller points of light surrounding the large yellow one, the smaller ones glinting silver. Damascus swore and leaped off the roof, down onto a balcony. He leaped down the balcony from roof to roof, leaping across gaps, placing each foot carefully, finding each hand and foot hold easily. After several minutes he got to where he saw the lights before. There were several men below him, surrounding a woman with a candle. The man carried long, wickedly sharp knives. They pushed the woman around, taunting her. They said rude things, which made the goblin's temper boil. He adjusted his hat, twirled his spear and jumped, aiming for the area of darkness behind the thug. If he was going to beat up someone, he wanted to scare them first. He landed silently, cloaked in darkness. He then grabbed one thug while the rest where preoccupied, and dragged him into the darkness, covering his mouth to stifle noise. He slapped the man's head against the stony side of the building, causing him to fall unconscious. One down, six to go. |
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