In the Shadow of Champoor
The Palace of Broken Glass
It had been one week since Mirai and her caravan arrived in Champoor. The journey had been dangerous, but not half so dangerous as actually lodging in the city. The one bandit raid they'd faced on their way into the city had only lost them a single sell-sword who'd strayed beyond the wagons hoping to earn some extra coin for his heroics. His fellows shook their heads at his foolishness as they buried him. Since marshaling their carts in the shadowed city, however, two more mercenaries have been found dead in alleys, one turned up drugged and barely breathing behind the carts, and another disappeared entirely.
Rufar, the expedition's chief factor, had dealt shrewdly with these unfortunate circumstances. A quiet, dark-haired man from the near-south, Rufar's eyes never seem open further than a suspicious squint. Dressing well in tailored, but modest silks of deep indigo and crimson, the aging tradesman cuts and imposing figure, his piercing eyes narrowing on anyone who provokes his ire.
Two days ago, Rufar made the decision to move the caravan to a new venue. The Palace of Broken Glass purports to be the safest accommodations in the whole of Champoor. Ringed by a high wall of solid, white stone, the estate gives the impression of being older than much of Champoor combined. Its design owes much the great halls of southern spice kings, its buildings topped with rounded domes and the interior furnished in lavish rugs and lit with dangling lamps of orange glass. The most unique feature, however, are the windows of stained glass that are ubiquitous throughout the palace. These fixtures, with no lock, latch, or hinge, are the establishment's namesake.
Now, late into the night, a knock sounded at Mirai's door before the hushed voice of Rufar called out, "Mirai, we need to discuss business." The room was otherwise empty. Tears was nowhere to be found.
The Darktangle - The Den of Vapors
Beneath the city of Champoor, the Darktangle's tunnels run in all directions. Over the years, these catacombs have become a refuge and hive alike. Some find their way into the tangle when the cutthroat streets of the city above prove too dangerous. Others are left there, lost and forgotten. Whatever their reason, the people of Darktangle now share a common home, if no other bond. There are truces, loosely held, but truces nonetheless. In the winding black beneath Champoor, where the walls seep poison and an inhuman chittering haunts the deep, there are enough dangers without the unfortunate turning on each other.
It is for just that reason that many make their way to the Den of Vapors. One of the largest caverns in the whole network, the Den rests beneath one of Champoor's most well-known landmarks, a great hall of white stone adorned with windows of bright, stained glass. The den is so-named for the ghastly green vapors that vent up through the rents in the earth. Despite the sickening haze, many information brokers call the Den their home, so word travels fast when someone new settles in . . . particularly when they carry a pair of fearsome blades and walk with a manticore by their side.
It is here that the man called "The Brass Scropion" has found his reprieve from the hunters in the world above, and it is here that he will soon meet a young woman named Glint, the shadow that skulks these dark tunnels. Many rats have whispered in her ear, and he is not the first stranger to have found his way into her home of late . . .
OOC: Sorry that this is a bit of a rough start, guys. I'm working to bring you all together as quickly as possible, but it's going to take a bit. Mirai will have a bit of business on the surface as the rest are drawn together below in the Darktangle. I just ask that you bare with me as we pull the group together. Enjoy a chance to get to know each other (and establish yourselves with a bit of dialogue and background descriptions).