Legend of Krystal Forums

You have followed one of the low level whorehandlers, an Orc by the name of Grusk, to a brothel on the very edge of the city, near the western gate, also known as Lion's Gate. It has seen a large number of refugees, more so than the rest of the city, and making an ideal place for desperate folk to be preyed upon for sex work that they can't get out of. You believe Grusk may get you a bigger fish, and slowly unwravel the worst in the city.

You stand outside the brothel Grusk frequents, The Last Drop, deciding how to approach him and get whatever information he knows. You can see him through the window, arm already wrapped around a half-elf employed at this brothel. Several people brush by you on these crowded streets, all looking for their own aims and needs.

You look left and right and see no one in particular paying attention to you at this moment. Some guards shuffle by, holding a criminal in shackles, as well as some merchants peddling their wares from street stalls. The odors of thousands of people huddling in close quarters fill your nostrils and your heart with anxiety, but nothing you're not accustomed to from living here with your family. Your worst feat is that someone like Grusk, but more powerful and cunning, may one day sweep your own wife and 18 year old daughter into this hellish side of Tanric.

You look at Grusk again through the window, returning to the matter at hand, how you might approach finding the fish bigger than him, and how you might use him...

You find yourself near the south gate of the vast city of Tanric, having only been barely able to trade a few things you found on the road for two days rent at a tavern and inn called The Jack's Eye. You had barely stopped to rest when you made your escape from the country side, but eventually, freedom seemed here at last - but you could not stay here cheaply.

The owner of The Jack's Eye, a human named Edric, was already giving you lustful eyes, a gaze you'd become all too familiar with. You were certain he was hoping you wouldn't be able to pay, that you might "pay" in another form than bartered goods or silver.

So you now find yourself in a predicament, as you finish your breakfast at The Jack's Eye. As your gaze wanders out to the street, the large crowds shuffling back and forth through the city, what would you do next? How would you support yourself? What do you want to do with your freedom?

You had overheard more than one woman being offered a job to "serve" men in many ways, but you weren't entirely convinced this would be your path in the end... You had heard of the sex crazed women, who succumbed to lust after spending too many times with Orcs, or the like. Many women only served Orcs, claiming their "sexual superiority" being the reason. Such nonsense was truly false, but who can say for certain?

You finish your drink and decide now is the time to act. How will you survive, what path shall you walk, and will you survive Tanric?

You have a dream that haunts you still, a vision even, of these two women reaching out to you, but even so, it was very easy to lose one's self in Tanric. It was difficult enough to find one's way through the massive urban sprawl to as it was to find a way out of the squalor. However, your gifts and talents made a survival in the cutthroat place a much more realistic possibility.

You entered Tanric some weeks back and found yourself in the Swords Quarter, a place where all manners of monsters and warriors would sell their skill to the highest bidder, and with more than a fair share of arena fights to whet local lordling appetites. You had receive more than a few offers in the short time you'd been in the area; one, to fight a large beast known as a worg, and another to join a melee against a captured Orc warband, and, somehow the shadiest of them all, to serve some tentacled monstrosity as a lover for one night.

Any person, man or woman, seemed for sale in Tanric, only the right price had to be found, and you were still struggling to find your direction in the throngs of thousands, with just as many opportunities looking behind every corner, waiting for the bold to take it.

You currently stand in Crimson Square, a popular place for vendors and sellswords, looking out at the many glistening bodies and arms being traded freely for deed and gil. Where would you start, how would you survive, and what do you reach for? These are all questions only you could answer.

You found yourself at Rendwell, the name of your husband's rundown estate, once said to be owned by a famous warrior from an age forgotten. Though you no longer have servants to attend to you, this estate was in the oldest part of Tanric, with an ocean view and frequent patrols by the city guard. However, after only one day, you began to feel the sting of low coffers.

Apparently, the guards extorted the clearly "struggling" nobles and estate owners rather openly. You had to begin paying them or they threatened to "tell" some well connected gangs in the Dockward about your lack of funds and security, making you a prime target for robbery, slavery, or worse.

There was only one choice. You had to make your way back up, rebuild your estate and your coffers, if you wished to remain in Tanric. You suppose you could make your way at sea, with your husband's old ship, though this also required refurbishment, a crew, and none of this would come without hard earned gil.

As you stand in the dessicated garden of your estate, looking out over the sea, you resolve to do something about this. What you would do, in this vast city with limitless opportunity, could only be limited by your skill and potential, and hopefully not end up like those women you hear about in rumor... those who seek pleasure at any and every opportunity, lost to the supposed Sin Requiem, with their lust addled minds and bodies...

Name: Alein Oakheart
Age: 37
Race: Human
Sex: Male
Height: 6'1''
Weight: 167 lb

Stats

Bravery: 75
Faith: 35
Will: 50
Fortitude: 50

Health: 25/25
Corruption: 0/100

Traits:
Longsword Training
Physical Intimidation
Urban Tracking

Equipment:
Longsword, dagger
Half-Plate armor, shield
Locket

Gil: 4,990

Name: Alvidera
Age: 19
Race: Elf
Sex: Female
Height: 5'4"
Weight: 106 lbs.

Stats
Bravery: 50
Faith: 75
Will: 35
Fortitude: 50

Health: 25/25
Corruption: 0/100

Traits:
Summoning Magic (Can summon creatures/spirits from magically imbued crystals to fight on her behalf)
Oral Sexpert (Her training focused a lot on oral sex, so she's very adept when she really needs help or wants to avoid other sexual activities)
Fleet of Foot (Elven heritage makes her excellent at moving quickly whether to flee)

Equipment: Summoning Crystal(Wolf)
No Armor/Sheild
Mysterious Amulet(Does not know she's carrying this for the moment)

Gil: 5,000
Biography: Hailing from the Forests of Vermos far to the South, Alvidera's village was invaded by Gnolls a year ago, and she was among those taken. That week was the most terrifying time of her life as the beasts used her and the other captured women until she was practically broken. When she began to accept her fate, the savages lost interest and sold her to passing slavers who planned to traffic her in the sex trade. Unlike the Gnolls, these men expected her to participate in the debauchery and to even fake enjoyment. After many months of this, she wasn't even fully sure she hadn't started to enjoy pleasuring the many strange, demanding customers.

Then one day, she got her chance. The customer must have been a mage, at least a fledgling one, as he had accidently left behind a satchel. She was going to hand it over, so her masters could either keep it or return it to the customers, but for some reason, she peeked inside seeing was full of money except for the crystal on top that glinted with an aura of magic that couldn't be missed by an elf. Seeing her oppurtunity, she quickly grabbed and threw on the nearest article of clothing and calling the creature into this realm. Ordering it to run to the commons room and make a ruckus, she made a mad dash for the back of the building and hopefully freedom. Though she was unaware of the amulet buried at the very bottom.

Appearance:

Name: Cassandra Vale
Age: 23
Race: Human(part tiefling unknown to her)
Sex: Female
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 130

Stats

Bravery: 75
Faith: 50
Will: 35
Fortitude: 50

Health: 25/25
Corruption: 0/100

Traits: Silver Vixen (Bonus to charming those who’d like to get Cassandra’s pants)
Demonic resistance( resistant to demon/magical influence, but weak to physical pleasures)
Expert duelist(bonus to fighting when confronted by a single opponent)

Equipment: Heirloom sword(previously her "fathers") A set of throwing daggers, a net. Leather Armor. Sapphire necklace(gift from her mother) a detailed drawing of her mother, camping supplies.
Gil: 5,000

Appearance:

Name: Valrissa Woe-Droet
Age: 18
Race: Tiefling
Sex: Female
Height: 5'8"
Weight:

Stats

Bravery: 50
Faith: 75
Will:50
Fortitude: 35

Health: 25/25
Corruption: 0/100

Traits:
Regal Appearance (when dressed up gets a bonus to persuade etc others?)
Acrobat
Magic User- Fire

Equipment:
Dagger
Simple Sling
Sword Cane

Fine Gamberson

Regal clothing
Large coin purse
Jewelry

Gil: 5,000

Appearance:

Encounter Roll: 77

You search high and low in the Swords Quarter for more than a hour before you wander into an exotic tavern on the edge of the distract. The strange incense catches your attention at first, wafting upon a rare breeze through the streets. You peer inside and see colorful drapes providing only modest privacy for the many booths. Exotic wines are paid for handsomely and served quickly to the several dozen patrons, all of which are quite well dressed.

You overhear a patron in a nearby booth exclaim, "If anyone can find her, I can, I know everyone around here."

You approach this boastful informant, a blonde Elf bedecked in finery and jewels, as he takes a swig and suddenly turns to meet your gaze. He smiles and says, "A fine lass if I've ever seen one, though I don't believe I've had the pleasure of being underneath you, yet. How can I help you, my lady?"

You have no problem slipping into the busy brothel, just one of many suitors seeking sweet pleasures. The whores wore nothing that could be called clothing, save by the most liberal of tailors, with almost everything on display and available for the right price.

Many other patrons, soldiers, merchants, sailors, pave their way through the brothel's delights. Many continue the flirtatious dancing and drinking, as they not so discreetly decided which whore they would pay for on this night. You were vigilant, and hoped that given enough time, this vigilance would pay off.

From around his nook, as you parley with a prostitute for a drink, you hear Grusk say, "Yeah, that bastard still owes me money. I need to collect 'fore he squeaks away. You know his kind. Know anyone who can clean it up for me?"

You glance over and see Grusk talking to several other Orcs, possibly direct kin, as some of them openly fornicate with paid for women right in the open, a sign of wealth and influence, at least among the underworld, to throw any and all social decorum out the window so blatantly.

Edric smiles at you as you thank him for the meal and his eyes hold no shame over eyeballing your figure rather openly. He takes the dishes from your table and says, "Remember, only a few days, then next payment is due... unless ya find somewhere else to stay of course."

His smile might be harmless if you didn't otherwise feel his gaze watch your backside as you walked out.

Encounter Roll: 16

You search the nearby market square, one of many across the vast metropolis of Tadric, and find yourself in one that is rather humble and a bit less shadier than others. You see mostly food and traveling equipment being sold, some horses here and there, and other tools. You eventually find a minotaur, a bizarre sight even in Tadric, selling watermelons.

Aside from him being more than 7ft in height, he also caught your attention due to his "Hiring" sign hanging from his modestly sized stall. He finishes with several customers and eyes you over as you approach.

"Targus," he grunts, "Lookin' for melons?"

He holds up one of his finest fruits and says, "About to close up for lunch. Can give ya half off on this one."

This seems like an easy enough job, fairly simple in fact. He didn't seem to objectify you right away, and this was ideal, especially if the rumors about a minotaur's addictive semen were true, you would likely prefer to avoid that scenario. Everyone had to start somewhere, after all, but if you wanted something more dangerous, and more exciting, you would simply have to expand your search. In Tanric, opportunity was around every corner, and the deeper you went, the more exciting it would get.

He examines the drawing, then examines your posterior as you bend over before him and the others at his table and when you turn back to him, he smiles and says, "Name's Elblanc. I can find her, but I don't work for free, as you can see."

Elblanc gestures to the table, filled with fine food and wine, and several of who must be friends, including another Elf, a human and an Orc.

"2,000 gil up front. Depending on the difficulty of the job, I got rates... at least another 4,000 when the job is done. Surely a fine lady such as yourself can afford such a thing. You wanna find your mom, don't ya?"

Elblanc leans back and takes a swig from his glass and says, "Ask anyone here. I know these streets better than the rats. I got everything you need right here," he taps his head, "And here," and squeezes his groin. A few men at the table chuckle in response.

You don't have quite enough to afford the second part of his payment, but you could earn money in the meanwhile, or try to find someone less suspect altogether.

(Subtracting 10 gil coin from character)

The whore thanks you and pats your shoulder, leaving you with your drink and your greater concerns.

Grusk looks you over carefully, eyeing the intruder at his table with some suspicion. He hesitantly shakes your hand while his other hand gropes the rear of a serving wench sitting on his lap.

When you mention your name, he scratches his chin and says, "Hmm... I think that name does ring a bell... huurrm... Alright, Alein, but I gotta know you're not one of them uppity crusadin' types. There's a guy across the street at another bar, owes me a small amount. Bring back his purse. If he resists, bring back his hand. Do that, and I'll know yer level and give ye the real job."

One of the Orcs says, "Grusk... ain't that guy kinda big? You mean Borsk, right? I mean, this chap looks tough and all, but-"

Grusk grins and says, "I'm sure Alein here can handle it. Hell, you can even keep half of whats in the purse... after ye bring it to me."

The other Orcs also eye you with suspicion. It seemed unlikely there was another way to earn their trust, or if there was any way at all. You already seemed set in mind, however, that you'd get your hands dirty here if necessary, and this just seemed to be the first step on the road.

You decide to pull on old strings in the hopes that something might come up to aid your financial and domestic situation. You find your wardrobe, at the very least, plentiful enough to avoid the appearance of desperation, a very detractive element in any negotiation that may occur and you would know to be careful to avoid.

After you decide upon appropriate dress and jewelry, you make your way to the First Court, as its known for being the first and oldest court in the city. It is a lower court, where many of the minor nobles mingle, pass laws, collect taxes, and throw wilder and wilder parties rather frequently. The presiding noble is Duke Traxus Coswin, an older fellow and uncle to the last King of Tadric, who rules the Seaside district with which your estate resides with a loose hand. Many say he has gone senile, but none can say for certain.

You walk the paved and patrolled streets safely, passing by numerous other nobles, before arriving at the monumental building known as the First Court. Pillars and grand statues, not maintained very well, speak of a greater lost age. You enter the main lobby, and being about dinner time, you see food and drink being served to nobles who are gradually becoming more inebriated. You look behind you and see poorer folk, those not dressed as well as yourself, being prodded away and even shackled and thrown into a wagon for attempting to enter the First Court, a place that once espoused egalitarian virtues.

You begin to mingle with these folk, hoping to draw up these old connections of your husband's.

[Roll: d100 + 15 (trait) = 61]

You mingle quite successfully and manage to track down someone who is apparently a colleague and former business partner of your husband's, a half-Orc named Xan. You eventually find him out on one of the balcony's overlooking the city, apparently making flirtatious moves on some well-dressed Elven lady. He himself wore fine clothing and jewelry, as most others here.

He glances over at you when you step out onto the balcony, but doesn't immediately address you until it's clear you wish to speak to him. Once his quarry loses interest and gives an excuse to walk away, you're left only with Xan.

He takes a swig from his fancy wine, spilling some of it on his blood red tunic, and says, "I have not seen your kind around here, but many nobles here avoid the bastards... Fortunately, my father was kind enough to leave an estate to his bastard. My name is Xan, and you might be... ?"

Targus looks you over and scratches his chin. "Work, huh? You don't seem that scrawny at second glance, actually. Then again, if I do say so, you are quite pretty... I bet you could sell a lot of melons."

He hands the watermelon to you and says, "Consider it a tip. You're hired, so long as you can be here every day startin' tomorrow. Your job'll be sellin' the things. I'll stay around for a bit to get you setup, but then I'll head back to the fields. You'll have to take care of the stall yourself. Your cut'll be 10%. Sell a lot of melons, it'll pay out well, I promise ya, and we can maybe talk about a raise if you do well."

Targus continues to close up his stall, packing away his tools and other things before finally closing up his wagon, with at least another dozen melons inside. He sits on the back of the wagon and looks you over again and says, "If all of that's agreeable, then we might make some real money... just uh, be careful. Not just about melons being stolen, which doesn't happen often, big size and all, but plenty of people would love to take advantage of someone like you. Be on guard."

Targus scratches his groin, covered by a tight fitting loincloth that left little to the imagination as to the size of his package.