The Search for Riches unknown (private, xGM)

[Lar'ial Est'iaran]

Four months Prior to The Month of Junctior in the Season of Autumn, of Era I of the Celestine Mandate (Current Pattern)
Era X Post Fractum in the Age of the Darkening, the Mageocracy of Julos the Mad
Paradigm: Mystique Threatens Rebellious Frigid River

Although it was a small estate, it surely held it's own as far as beauty, or atleast it used to. It had been along time since the gardens had shined with beautiful flowers and plants. The estate had never really recovered after the many deaths that occured in the Est'iaran Family. Avr'ian Est'iaran, the Founding Matron Mother of House Est'iaran, had created a glorious house before she was brutally murdered in her sleep by an unknown assailant. Since that time, there has been a death in each generation of the Est'iaran Family. The plants are whithered and dead around the old eight room Est'iaran mansion. One might think at first glance that the mansion was deserted, but if you were to look very closely, you might see the shadow of the last remaining Est'iaran, Lar'ial Est'iaran, in the one of the second floor windows...

"Now I must start to revive my family name. It has been to long since Est'iaran has been spoken of, but that time has come to an end. I shall seek out Riches, that other houses only dream of, even if I have to search the ends of the globe. Now is my time to shine, I must not fail my family's name." Lar'ial said to herself as she sat at the edge of the second floor window. Lar'ial was large for her kind, standing as tall as some males, but she had honed her body into a lean figure. Her long flowing white hair was tied back in one long braid, and her eyes were of a hazel color. One could tell her mood, based upon her eye color at the time. Bright green meant that she was in a good mood, and dark brown always meant that she was in a bad mood. She stood at an imposing 6'2", and weight about 150lbs, though there wasn't an ounce of fat on her. Her milky white skin was all so smooth, but not delicate. Lar'ial wore a loose fitting outfit, which hid most of her assets, except for where the breastplate was worn. Her outfit was not of any special fabric, just a breathable one. The colors were faded, but the brown was still visible. She wore sandles on her feet, because speed and agility were of importance to her. She wore nothing else except for her Nekodes, loose fitting outfit, and the hard leather breastplate.

Lar'ial had locked herself inside of her family's house for the next four months. She had been training vigorously, getting used to her new weapons of choice. The first days of the first month were the toughest for her, she had cut herself many times with her own nekodes, and she had the scabbed over scares to prove it. Each day though, she started to gain strength, speed, and agility, little by little. She knew that training by herself would only get her so far, but she knew she could get atleast far enough to adventure safely. The second month of her training went even harder on her, because she pushed herself to muscle failure, and then rested for several hours, before she got to her feet and went at it again. She wouldn't give up, even when she wanted to physically, for mentally she had only tapped into the shallowest of regions inside of herself. The third month was more concentrated on mental training, than physical. She worked on meditation, even though she knew she could never reach any magical sense, due to being bound, but that was fine with her. She began to focus more on her movements as she tapped into her inner self. She started to become more aware of the things around her, being able to move around the room without opening her eyes. The fourth month, was the most grueling part of the training, because each day, she would push herself to the mental and physical limits, and then take them to the next step. She would not take muscle failure for an answer, she would keep going for minutes at first, and hours later on, before she finally would pass out. She knew that the longer she could fight, the more likely she would be to win the fight.

The Month of Junctior in the Season of Autumn, of Era I of the Celestine Mandate (Current Pattern)
Era X Post Fractum in the Age of the Darkening, the Mageocracy of Julos the Mad
Paradigm: Mystique Threatens Rebellious Frigid River

On the first brightening of this month, a figure emerged from the halls of Est'iaran. A woman who many probably had thought dead these past few months, Lar'ial Est'iaran. She was even more imposing now, than she was four months ago, her hazel eyes glowing a bright green, with a ring of dark brown encompassing the orb. Lar'ial stepped past the doorway, and on the path to the heart of the city. She was ready for what she was about to do. She needed some funds to rebuild the Est'iaran estate, and going after smugglers and theifs would hopefully prove fruitful. Lar'ial headed for the slums of Ethgan'tor, where the theives and smugglers thrived. Of course she dressed, as to cover her breastplate and nekodes, as well as to appear defenseless. She made her way down through the streets, watching the people carefully, keeping her eye out for the theif or smuggler that would lead her to the Riches that she seeks...

((OOC: To whom decides to reply, I am seeking much riches, and will go through anything to get it. If I have to commit a crime, I will. I know of the Risk vs. Rewards, and though my PC knows very little, I feel that four months of training should be enough for her. If you feel that you would like me to write a detailed write-up of her four months of training, I shall write that up for you. I was already planning on writing it, so that others could see it for conformation. I am looking for GREAT RISK, and thus GREAT REWARDS. I shall be starting to write longer posts also.))

[Peach]

The autumn brightening was far from crystal clear. A chill drizzle of rain fell from the opaque and clouded skies, casting a gray shadow across the faces of the city's patrons. Small puddles lined the streets, intensifying the effects of the glowing white marble against the dreary weather. A light fog masked the buildings and parted eagerly as live beings stepped through it, not enough to impair vision, but certainly able to cause the cold and wet citizens to feel even more miserably damp. The people, it seemed, shared their sentiments with the gloomy weather. Windows were lit up with candles, and relatively small numbers of elves and other fitting beings roamed the pathways. Lar'ial's feet felt rather uncomfortable in their simple attire, periodically being splashed and constantly feeling rather numb. At the very least, her readily concealed leather breast plate provided some warmth to her chest... A small thing that could give the pale elf at least the smallest amount of comfort.

No matter how far she traveled in this vein, however, it looked to be impossible to find anything that could be described as a 'slum'. The baroque buildings were generally well-kempt, and no overly shady characters wandered the streets in droves. Lar'ial could certainly find mansions and other such wealth, but the other end of the spectrum hardly appeared to be present. Any poverty that did exist was interspersed throughout the city, in failing houses such as Est'iaran, or the slaves that served them. Neither of these, however, possessed much wealth for the young dark elf to gain. Thieves, in such a city, weren't of the stereotypical faltering variety. They existed as high-class individuals, feeding off of the monetary assets of those lower in status than themselves. When one had no need for a poor area, or didn't cast their deprived citizens off like dirty rags, the atmosphere of the city stayed clean. It was the undercurrent that she was seeking, if her ulterior motives were as obvious as they had been during training.

Her strange physique did, quite obviously, help in attracting attention. Women and men alike who she was made to look down upon glanced at her with a mixture of jealousy and fascination. Those blessed enough to be taller than her looked at Lar'ial with respect, often times nodding in her direction. It was quite a while, however, before one had the courage to stop. A man quite a bit shorter than the fallen noble, the pale elf had the habit of making himself seem to have more of a height advantage than he really did. Eyes of a sky blue color glittered fiercely as they appraisingly ran over Lar'ial's form, a small smile unwillingly forming at the corners of his thin lips. By the more vivacious color of his skin, and the slightly rounded look to his otherwise angular features, he looked to have traces of light elven blood. Holding out a bony hand, the Esh'laheir motioned for Lar'ial to stop.

"Excuse me, miss... Am I correct in assuming that you are a warrior? Perhaps serving your time for the Guard?" His voice had a gravelly quality to it, as if he was out of the practice of speaking. Lowering his hand, the young woman could notice the swirling black tattoo's that covered the back of it and extended along his fingers. The rest, if there was any, was hidden by a green shirt and black trousers. "We're looking for willing participants to help guard our shipment to the city. You'll be paid, of course." Expectantly, the dark elf crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "For the house Melyannarim'Elena, in case you wonder. My name is Ruetrien."