- [10 Weeks Ago]:
Turmoil has been rising among The Crossroads - power has been dwindling among the High Council and crumbling the very fabric of Tutmose's being. However, the stage has not been set, the masters still hiding in the darkness, their puppets dancing on their strings, willingly or unwillingly moving the pieces in the game for power.
A newly formed vampire family escapes the clutches of the Tower, avoiding a certain death. While a dark vow and terrible curse bought the price of freedom for the pair, it left an uncertain future for them...
A pair of destined lovers wandered the labyrinth of The Lows, uncertain in footing but seeking spontaneous adventure all the same. A guide found and lost, a pique of interest followed and all to a dragon guarding its trove...
A humble monk abandoned by fate but rescued by a High princess. A favor asked, but fate saw it fit for the monk to abandon his mission...
A thief and assassin meet an ancient king, and a duel of proof was conducted. Artifacts wanted, valuables demanded. The reasoning behind such madness could not be told, but only followed. However, chains could not hold and thief was left alone once more...
[Now]
The High Time had come across Tutmose, shadows chased away by the blazing pair of suns that hung equally in the Crossroads' sky, casting their merciless heat and light upon The Lows. Most would want to hide indoors, unless job or want demanded otherwise, but the two realities of the Lows were always clear: The Lows never slept and The Lows always stirred. Masses of people still walked in the regular bustle of a city, creature and being making its way on whatever task they had given themselves under the scorching heat that baked the boardwalks and muddied streets of The Lows. As usual, the usual low rumble that usually hung in the air at all times was suddenly interrupted by a harsh crash, a scream of horses, and the yelling of the two drivers that had collided - the sounds he woke up to.
With an audible, anguished groan, Gerald Clockwerk rose from his back to a sitting position, his robotic movements echoing the declaration of pain. "Unnnngh." He muttered darkly as a gloved hand rose to his forehead, pushing past long bangs as he staggered to his feet, papers, cans, and other various pieces of garbage falling off him with rustlings and odd clunks. "Bloody hell…" Still holding his head, Gerald leaned against the ally wall his other hand, seeing what the commotion was beyond the darkness of the ally. The drivers were now standing nose to nose, still arguing, a small crowd starting to gather. Dismissing the sight with a huff, he attempted to push himself off the wall. He was successful and began to stagger out of the ally. However, three steps away from the wall, and he found himself back on the ground in dramatic fashion, toppling into the mud and filth. 'Wonderful.' Slowly rising to one knee, Gerald crawled to the wall, where he promptly sat amongst the crumpled paper, smashed boxes, and other junk. Wiping the muck off his face with pristine fingertips, he glanced at the offending substance with a raised eyebrow, mentally commenting as a frown of displeasure stretched across his face, 'Well, now that I'm made love the underbelly of The Lows…' A disgusted look came across his face as he reached into the inside of his shirt, only to pull out a wet piece of cardboard as he continued, 'I believe it is time to…' He threw it across the ally, slowly, painfully rising to his feet, 'acquire some grub from my favorite local.'
Balancing himself against the ally wall, Gerald managed to stagger out of the ally, though collided headlong into a pedestrian. With a disgusted squeal, the woman looked at where Gerald had accidentally brushed off some of his stench and slime onto her cloak and dress, courtesy of the alley. However, always the gentleman, the dirty thief removed his hat with a graceful arc of his coated arm and bent at the waist. "My deepest apologies, miss. You see I--" With that, a pile of slime that somehow had managed to collect at the top of his hat slipped from its black hide and onto the shoes of the woman. A screech and a stinging cheek later, Gerald found himself stalking down the dirtied boardwalk, muttering under his breath as strode forward, "The nerve. I was merely only trying to apologize...daft wench."
Luckily, Gerald's destination was not too far. Two blocks later, Gerald mood had improved as he looked at masterfully carved signed, its dark mahogany hide showing the picture of a boar and the words "Old Boar Inn." Humming a song, the time traveler stepped through it's tall saloon doors with his sneakered feet, familiar sights and sounds hitting him like a ten-foot wave.
Last edited by Rhaevnn Xeno on Thu Jan 16, 2014 7:33 am; edited 4 times in total