[Featured thread] [Flashback] The Stinking City

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A lawless town of anarchists, built on the ruins of an ancient mining city. [Lore]

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[Flashback] The Stinking City

Postby Drayton on May 4th, 2011, 4:02 am

50th day of Summer, 510 AV

Sunberth stank. It was summer and every inhabitant was sweating beneath Syna’s heavy golden light. And the moistened folk of the ex-mining town had never put much stock in bathing. What was the point? You’d only be covered in filth and lice again the next day. So the people of Sunberth stank. And as their powerful bodily odors rose they mingled with the less than savory scents of the city itself. Manure was in the streets, fish broiled in the sun at the Seaside Market while the tide thoughtfully turned over the filth of the people so the side that had been decomposing could enjoy a bit of fresh air. All these lovely smells mixed and floated about in the air, which was still humid from yesterday’s rain and becoming frightfully oppressive in the strong afternoon sun. It was, at the very least, an unpleasant atmosphere. Even in the “rich” part of town there were piles of garbage at the corners of streets, steaming as the rain evaporated. The city stank.

Eleanor tugged at the shoulder of her grimy shirt. The fabric peeled slowly from her skin as a disappointingly warm gust of air flowed beneath. Instead of cooling the girl it swept her own sweaty fragrance toward her nose. I stink, she thought as she walked casually down the street behind the street where the merchants lived. Here houses had broken windows and doors with boards nailed haphazardly across the entrances. A street over the lower windows had bars on them and the doors had armed men behind them. There was a reason for that. Inside the houses on this street you could find the bodies of dead rats hoarding their own private collections of cobwebs and dust. In the other houses merchants sat in plush chairs counting their mizas, or at least, that’s what they did at night.

On days like today the merchants were occupied gathering the mizas they so loved to count. And Demri had told Eleanor of one man who liked to keep a portion of his goods locked up in his home, because he didn’t trust ol’ Alphonse and his storage houses, thought they were some sort of racketeering scheme. Who would ever think something like that?” the thief thought with a grin. Demri had also told her of a convenient pile of crates that currently stood in the alleyway next to this wary soul’s home.

And here it was, radiant in all of its discarded glory. The alley was narrow and cut between two of the more grandiose houses in the neighborhood, connecting the road Eleanor had been using with the one the merchant’s home let out on. Well, it would have connected the two if the crates had not been there. They had been carelessly thrown out, clogging the walkway until only a very thin soul could squeeze past if they didn’t mind receiving a slew of splinters from the cracked boards. Eleanor was a very thin soul, but luckily she didn’t want to slip by (she wasn’t very fond of splinters, you see).

Instead the youth walked quietly up to the heap and gave the lowest board a light tap with her foot. Some of the layer of dirt on her boot fell in a shower on the mucky floor of the alleyway as the plank yielded what she deemed to be a healthy creak. Climbable. With a quick glance over her shoulder Eleanor Drayton grabbed a plank belonging to one of the more balanced looking crates and began to work her way up.

The tower of boxes was treacherous, and groaned dangerously as she placed her weight on it. Some of the uppermost crates began to sway and one especially rotten board broke beneath her foot. There was no pattern to the way the boxes had been piled, and Eleanor worked her way up carefully, stepping on those that moved the least when she touched their sides and checking each board (after the one had broken) before placing her weight on it. It was fortunate she was wearing her half-fingered padded gloves, or the rough surfaces of the boards would have shredded through even her calloused palms.

The boards teetered and swayed as Eleanor reached the top, she was almost two stories high now, and the window was a little higher. Bracing her shoulder against the wall of the house and her feet firmly on each side of the highest crate the thief eased the swaying of the tower slightly. She eased her hand into the wide band that wrapped around her torso, the only thing preventing her over large shirt from becoming a billowing nightgown-like monstrosity. Well, it was already a monstrosity, but in a different sort of way…

From her belt she pulled a light hammer and wedge, standard thieving tools. Gently she worked the wedge beneath the flaking paint of the window, and nudged the tool in further with light taps of the hammer. Prying upward Eleanor shifted her weight to displace the window, and the crate beneath her feet began to shift too. The girl hung in the air, swinging her arms wildly in an attempt to stop the trembling of her perch before she gripped the window frame firmly. A moment later the miniature earthquake had stopped and she continued prying open her entryway.
Last edited by Drayton on May 5th, 2011, 11:03 pm, edited 1 time in total.
There's nothing wrong with teenagers that reasoning with them won't aggravate.
-Unknown

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School is a busy, busy place. I will be posting as regularly as I can, but to stay balanced only expect posts on Monday and Friday (maybe the weekend). Sorry for the delays!
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Drayton
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[Flashback] The Stinking City

Postby Drayton on May 4th, 2011, 4:20 pm

Finally the window opened with a soft splitting sound. They painted their window shut? Who paints their window shut?But Eleanor decided not to complain, after all, they could have decided to lock it instead. She slid her fingers beneath the frame and lifted, slowly this time so as not to disturb her perch. She was eager to get inside; it felt very exposed standing on a large, unbalanced pile of refuse in broad daylight attempting to break into a man’s house. Eleanor wasn’t in the habit of daytime burglaries, but Demri had mentioned the crates, and it was impossible to know when they would be removed, perhaps in just a few short hours. Besides, she knew the merchant was at Castle Commons, attempting to force his overpriced junk on any fool who wasn’t willing to simply steal it.

There, she was in. By the gods this man was rich. Eleanor seemed to have entered a large bedroom, and it was decadent by Sunberth standards. There was a deep red cover draped over the bed, made of some type of heavy fabric. It was soft as she ran her grimy fingers over the spread. The windows were hung with the same velvety stuff, again in rich mahogany, but the hangings were pulled back, letting the summer light fall into the room. It tumbled across a plush rug, embroidered riders with spears and arrows chasing strange desert creatures around the woven border. In the corner of the room was a large chest of drawers whose intricately carved claw feet matched the vanity on the opposing wall.

Eleanor seated herself on the stool, which was upholstered with curling vines and angelic flowers. On the surface of the vanity were scattered all types of personal affects. A powder box had been left open and now the wooly brush sent specks of white dust floating into the sunbeams. There were three types of combs and a brush, next to which lay an uncomfortable looking pair of tweezers. An oval mirror encased in wooden flowers looked over the collection, its glass surface glaring with the white light of day.

With a gloved hand Eleanor tilted the mirror down, the glare faded, and reflected among the knick-knacks and grooming supplies she saw her face. Mirrors were rare in Sunberth, large ones even more so, and the girl paused, noticing her reflection for the first time in a year or more. Her cheeks were narrow and bony beneath eyes the color of brackish water, with a little green scum floating on the surface. It was difficult to tell if her face was gaunt, or merely thin, with a thick layer of dirt that just looked like the hollow shadows a malnourished face would cast. Eleanor brushed the split ends of her auburn hair behind her ear, and fell to fingering the bone stud she wore in her lobe. Her lips were a pale, and had grown thin as she pressed them together, examining herself.

I wonder if when they carve your statue they change how you look, to make you look more attractive when you stand in their garden. If you’re more important do they leave your face alone, out of respect, or fix it so it will shine in the history books…

Sitting at the base of the mirror was a little armoire, about twelve inches high. Women in green and blue danced on the white lacquered surface of the doors, their bodies curving around a tiny keyhole. Cute jewelry box.

Eleanor shuffled through the collection of pockets housed in her vest, and removed a small leather pocket book. Inside were various strips of twisted dark metal, of which she selected the thinnest, and inserted into the heart shaped keyhole. She twisted the metal pick around gently, feeling for resistance in the lock, testing what moved away at her touch and what resisted. It was difficult to work with a mechanism so small, but Eleanor moved her tool about patiently, waiting for the right sequence to come to light.

There was a soft click, and the door swung open
There's nothing wrong with teenagers that reasoning with them won't aggravate.
-Unknown

Common, Thought

School is a busy, busy place. I will be posting as regularly as I can, but to stay balanced only expect posts on Monday and Friday (maybe the weekend). Sorry for the delays!
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Drayton
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[Flashback] The Stinking City

Postby Drayton on May 4th, 2011, 4:56 pm

Unfortunately it was not the right door, and Eleanor sprung from her seat on the tiny stool and bolted for the window. In her periphery she saw a young woman enter the room. As Eleanor hefted up the window frame and clambered onto the sill, the intruder screamed. Oh right, second floor, Eleanor recalled as the disappointing sight of the crates greeted her. It was too far to simply step down onto the pile, and jumping down to the boxes would dislodge the teetering mountain. If only they weren’t there, she thought angrily, forgetting her delight at hearing about the easy entrance to the home, The ground is soft from the rain, I could fall into the mud. With all these crates scattered about I’d be impaled.

So Eleanor eased herself onto the edge of the sill, and began lowering her body, hoping that when she did drop the entire pile didn’t come splintering down on her. She was clinging to the ledge with her forearms flat against the wood now, and her feet scraped against the siding. A little lower… she thought, watching the boxes beneath her dangling toes.

Fingers worked their way beneath Eleanor’s stubby ponytail and yanked the thin girl up and through the window. A hot pain spread through her scalp, trickling down her temples and around her ears as the man lifted Eleanor by her hair. She called their guard, lovely, Eleanor thought as her hips and belly dragged against the window frame, picking up splinters as she was hauled into the room.

Soon the majority of Eleanor’s body lifted back into the home, but her legs still hung out over the alleyway. The man was holding her body upright, his arm lifted high over his already considerable stature. Deep breath, it’s only hair, Eleanor thought, planting her palm firmly against the frame of the window. As quickly as she could the girl heaved the rest of her body through the window. Her weight moved like a pendulum in the man’s grip and Eleanor straightened her legs. As she kicked out her mucky boots collided with the guard’s beer belly. He wheezed as 140 lbs of kicking teenager crushed his internal organs, and his grip on Eleanor’s hair failed. She landed hard on the expensive rug as the guard staggered backward.

Her scalp burned, her eyes watered and her tailbone felt a bit bruised as the thief scrambled to her feet, her right hand plunging into the wide cloth that wrapped around her waist. She pulled out her sheathed tama daggers, and lunged toward the man before he could catch his breath. Crack! The light wood snapped violently into the guard’s nose, releasing a fountain of blood over the cloth hunters on the rug. The girl screamed again and Eleanor ran for the bedroom door that had been left ajar.

The guard’s swearing was muffled as the side of Eleanor’s face plastered itself against a chest drenched in summer sweat. Her cheek made a loud squelching noise as it pressed into the skin of the second guard. These people can afford two guards?!

The second guard twisted Eleanor’s arms behind her back. Shoulders burned as tendons stretched and the girl set her weight against the large man’s grip. The other guard had regained his feet, and pressed a cloth blooming with red against the broken nose as he approached the two. His fist slammed into the stomach of the struggling girl. The woman, probably the daughter of the merchant screamed again. Eleanor could feel the vibrations of the guard’s voice through her back while she gasped from the force of the blow. “We’ll take her outside.”

That’s never a good thing to hear... she thought as they dragged her down the hall. The man never loosened his grip as they walked and the heated pain in her shoulders protested as Eleanor twisted her body, attempting to wriggle out of his grasp. The man was good at his job.

The mud of the alley made dark hissing and sucking noises beneath the feet of the men pulled her out of the view of passersby. Demri, I swear, I’m breaking a finger for every punch.
There's nothing wrong with teenagers that reasoning with them won't aggravate.
-Unknown

Common, Thought

School is a busy, busy place. I will be posting as regularly as I can, but to stay balanced only expect posts on Monday and Friday (maybe the weekend). Sorry for the delays!
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Drayton
You know what you did.
 
Posts: 127
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[Flashback] The Stinking City

Postby Drayton on May 4th, 2011, 5:15 pm

Demri would not have had enough fingers.

The man with the broken nose beat the air from her lungs until Eleanor wheezed, unable to widen her ribcage against the tight grip of the man who held her. His knuckles were hard and scarred and split the skin on her cheek as he shifted his attention to her face. Blood trickled over her sharp features and for a moment the bright summer sun was overcome by a flash of white as his fist crashed into her skull once more.

When the man stopped Eleanor was gasping, each frantic breath bringing the stabbing pain of bruised ribs with it. Her head lolled and blood dripped off of her face, falling without a sound on the dusty leather of her boots. Her teeth were covered in red too, and a chain of blood stained spittle hung loosely between her shoulder and chin. Don’t… Don’t ever let the big guy grab you, idiot… she thought as her pond scum eyes rolled back into her skull for a moment.

The corners of the alleyway tilted against gravity as they dropped her in the mud, each guard delivering a kick for good measure. Eleanor’s body jerked with the momentum of the blows, lifting briefly from the muck. She gurgled as they walked away, back to their posts, and some more blood trickled over her lips. It was mixed with spit, and moved slowly as she coughed into the ground, sucking desperately at the air between each rib shaking choke.

Her face pressed into the soft earth of the alley, mingling with the garbage of Sunberth, making the same squelching noise as it shifted to accommodate her cheek as the sweaty man’s chest had. Half submerged in the muck, the rancid stench of the city flooded into her bleeding nose.
There's nothing wrong with teenagers that reasoning with them won't aggravate.
-Unknown

Common, Thought

School is a busy, busy place. I will be posting as regularly as I can, but to stay balanced only expect posts on Monday and Friday (maybe the weekend). Sorry for the delays!
User avatar
Drayton
You know what you did.
 
Posts: 127
Words: 73710
Joined roleplay: May 1st, 2011, 5:37 am
Location: Sunberth
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Featured Thread (1)

[Flashback] The Stinking City

Postby Leviathan on May 19th, 2011, 3:15 pm

Thread Award!
Drayton
 
Skills
Skill Gain Info.
Acrobatics 2 For climbing the tower of treachery
Stealth 1 --
Brawling 1 --
Weapon (Dagger) 1 --
Larceny 3 --

 
Lore
Larceny: Breaking and Entering
Brawling: Boot to Belly Technique
The Consequence of Failure
A Painful Lesson Learned


Additional CommentsI'm absolutely stunned by how beautiful your writing is. If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, feel free to PM me and we can discuss them.
Bad News Everybody. School is picking up, Exams are beginning to happen, homework is growing time consuming, I may soon be evicted from my apartment, I'm dealing with severe and physical fights among several of my best friends, and I can't seem to find a time to get much needed sleep. I'm terribly sorry, but don't expect to see much of me for a long while.
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