Group role-play: Chyre's payment
Drosta | Czrel | Drosta
| Czrel | Drosta
Note: Chyre's
poem which sparked off these storyboards can be found here.
Drosta
Wanted: Chyre
You noticed a piece of parchment attached to a tree:
Wanted:
For robbing the vaults of our esteemed King Drosta
lek Thun and blatantly bragging about this foul deed in song and
rhyme, the Sendarian Merchant who goes by the name of Chyre.
Dead or alive makes no difference, however, if the
subject is killed, proof of the act has to be delivered.
The reward for serving the great country of Gar og
Nadrak will be: 250 bronze coins.
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Czrel
The sulky man sat slouched stop his uncouth throne, his
yellow clothing, along with his pock marked face, spoke lowly of
him.
'Who are you?' Drosta demanded from his seat, his head laid on his
palm, his elbow rested on the chair arm. 'What business do you have
in my palace?'
The wiry fur draped figure smiled and bowed with mock respect as
the King of Nadraks would deserve. His fingers slipped upon his
hood and then pushed it behind.
'I am Czrel, Master Merchant of Boktor,' the Drasnian reported with
an air of confidence.
'Well,' Drosta sat up, his palms slamming on his throne's arm. 'If
it isn't the slimy Merchants.'
'I wouldn't do that Your Majesty,' Czrel smirked. 'Your nation still
needs us, but I am here today for a different matter.'
The yellow clothed King raised a curious eyebrow.
With a loud jingle, a leather bag of filled with coins fell on to
the carpeted floor. 'Here are the bronze coins for Chyre, I heard
that she is wanted for robbing your vaults.
'I added extra coins to ensure that you can forge better locks in
future,' the Master Merchant added smugly. 'Keep 'em safe.'
As the infuriated Nadrak King jolted up from his throne, Czrel had
already turned his back and left, laughing his way out.
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Drosta
Drosta stood up from the throne. He never did get used
to sitting on it and he called for the guards to escort him to a
riverside tavern where he would feel much more at home. Arriving
at his private quarters, one of the guard's asked 'Should I send
for your usual girls your majesty?' but Drosta shook his head in
response. 'No, but I do need you to send a message to that servant
of mine, in the palace, what's his name, oh no matter, you know
who to go to.' 'Of course, your majesty' the guard said, bowing
his head.
'First, have the lock on the treasure replaced. Even though it's
only petty cash I keep in there, those ... Merchants... ' Drosta
sneered saying the name 'are not to go in there.' The guard nodded
as he wrote it down. Drosta appreciated the fact that he at least
had one servant with the ability to read or write, which was probably
a rarity in Gar og Nadrak.
'Also, let's leave out the keyhole. I'll discuss a means of entry
with my architect.' Drosta sat down on the side of the bed and ordered
another guard to fetch him some ale. 'Also, I want everyone to keep
a close on those Merchants. I am aware that they are an insignificant
presence and barely powerful enough to even threaten a Thull settlement
but let's keep giving them that feeling of importance they seem
to love having.' The guard smirked writing it down as the other
guard entered the room and gave Drosta a tankard filled with foaming,
reasonably cold ale. Drosta immediately took a sip and loosened
his doublet and leather belt.
'Will there be anything else your Majesty?' the guard asked patiently.
'One last thing. That Chyre person. I want him arrested, and if
that proves to be too much trouble, I want him killed. Forget proof,
forget the reward. I want his corpse dumped in the nearest filthy
sewers. ' Drosta paused for a moment 'No, wait, I have a better
idea. Send out some of your more capable men and keep an eye out
for any relations or friends. We'll figure out a way to make this
really hurt.' The guard scribbled the last orders on the piece of
paper, bowed deeply and rushed towards the
palace after sending two underaged girls upstairs. Arriving at the
palace the guard quickly issued the appropriate orders and the plans
were set into motion.
As the young girls entered the room, their faces red with fear and
shame, Drosta started smiling again and forgot about the merchants.
'Come girls, come, you have nothing to fear.'
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Czrel
It rained outside as the Nadrak King had his fun. His loyal
but somewhat dimwitted guards scurried along the mud filled streets
and ran for cover.
The downpour pelted mercilessly on the Nadrak footmen. The head
guard led the men across the filthy junction to a shelter where
they can regroup before they take action.
'Gah!' the head guard suddenly choked. 'His Majesty will roll my
head for this act of folly!' The rest of the guard platoon gasped
in shock as he showed them the piece of paper filled with Drosta's
instructions.
'The rain had smudged all the ink!' The soldiers exclaimed in unison.
The head guard slouched his head and sighed deeply.
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Drosta
As the girls left the room a man who had been standing
behind a curtain suddenly appeared in front of Drosta. 'Your majesty,
shall I initiate the operations now then?' Drosta nodded, wiping
the sweat from his forehead.
The man pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and disappeared
into the city.
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