Arkarm Crime Family
Say "Hi", to the Bad Guy
The room slowly comes into focus as you open your eyes, the ringing in your ears subsiding. A cool hand brushes your skin and you feel the pain in your head slowly drift away.
“You maybe could have hit him a little less hard?”
“I could have hit him harder, corpses listen too,” a grumpy voice mutters from somewhere to your right.
Taking in the room around you, you realize that this is not a place you have ever been. Delicate gaethzen orbs illuminate crude portraits and serve as the only decoration. A single portrait remains unlit, on it, you can barely make out the image of a tiny gnome with bunny ears.
An ornate table dominates the center of the room. The image of a ruined keep on a rocky mountainside is carved into the dragonwood table, while deep purple tyrium creates a filigree border. Chairs of varying heights are set around the table and a huge chandelier hangs over it’s center.
“Plats on the ground,” shouts a manic looking human as he leaps in front of you, bow drawn.
Startled, you try to leap from your seat only to realize too late that you are tied in. Rocking backwards, the chair tips and crashes to the ground. Your heart sinks as you realise that not only are you bound to the chair, but you are also stripped of everything but a loincloth, tied hastily about your waist.
Falling to the ground laughing, the man tweaks your nose before leaping to his feet and bounding off.
“He doesn’t have any plats, or gems, or... well, anything,” says an elven woman as she gazes down at you, the diamond inlaid hilt of her rapier sparkling. A silver marnet with a diamond encrusted collar skitters to a stop near you, he looks you over for a moment and then begins to chew on the bottom edge of the loincloth. A wave of horror passes through you just before the woman scoops him up and drops him into the pouch at her waist. She gives you a bemused smile before moving on to take her seat at the table.
“Pick him up Cray, you knocked him over,” a brawny human man says as he strides past you. He smiles as he settles himself in his chair, leaning back. Folding his hands behind his head and stretching his long legs out in front of him he eyes you with an air of vague disinterest..
“He is bleeding again,” a grinning elf announces as she rests her hand on your arm. The pain in your head drifts away, as a gash appears on the elven womans forehead. Rutilant sparks of light surround her and the wound is gone as quickly as it formed.
“I am NOT picking him up.”
Grunting enigmatically a plate clad dwarf grabs the back of your chair and rights it. He grabs the elven woman around the waist, triggering a fit of giggles. Tromping off toward a small buffet table covered in cupcakes, he stops and tosses several confections onto the table before flinging her into her chair then settles into the one beside her.
“Looksss like I am not late,” hisses a S’kra woman as she traces a finger along your cheek. A feeling of malevolence washes over you and then disappears with her touch.
“You are all late,” mutters a voice from the far corner.
Your eyes widen as you realize that the strange odor wafting from the corner is coming from an arisen assassin zombie. As if sensing your fear, the zombie unsheathes a haralun greatsword that had been protruding from his belly, and begins shambling towards you.
“No, Bradley, just stand there.” A gnomish man steps in front of the zombie and directs it back into the corner. “You can eat him later.” A complex series of whitened ridges push up from beneath his skin, while a black energy radiates out from his body creating an aura of malevolent power. Noticing your stare, he chuckles to himself as he settles into his chair.
A door behind you opens once more and a lumbering gor’tog moves into the room, followed by s’kras,humans, and a rakash, each taking their place at the table. . A gnomish man strides up next to you, his eyes narrowing. Your stomach drops as you realize you are occupying one of the last two vacant chairs at the table. Drawing his crossbow, he thunks you on the top of the head then moves to lean against the wall.
“You have been asking a lot of questions about our family.” You look to your right to discover the grumpy voice you hear is that of an elderly human. “We brought you here to answer them.”
Shifting in his seat the man eyes you carefully before he continues.
“We are the Arkarm Crime Family. One, if not all of us have been deemed unwelcome in every province in Elanthia. We are accused of crimes ranging from murder, to forbidden practices, to fraud, and we have all been labeled as enemies of the state. While we are innocent of some, we are guilty of most.
“Our family began with the Grave Lord, and myself. Some refer to me as “Godfather”. It has grown to include the people you see before you,” motioning to the others at the table, the man almost smiles as he appraises his family. He stops briefly as his gaze passes the only empty chair at the table.
“Some have left us, and we wait for their return.”
You begin to open your mouth to speak, but, the man is suddenly at your throat, moving quicker than you could imagine possible for a man of his age, or any age for that matter..
“You are here only to listen,” he says in a grumpy voice. “I suggest you do just that.” Settling himself back into his chair he gives a slight nod across the table to the the Grave Lord who is drinking from a bottle of kirmhiro draught.
“Our family has few rules, and no one leader,” the gnome begins, setting aside his half finished bottle . “We work together, each of us bringing something different to the table, no one more important than the other. We take care of our own, and an assault against one of us is an attack on us all. The laws of the provinces, the guilds, and the gods mean little to us, we serve no one but the family. “
Clearing his throat, the burly human stands and moves behind the Elven woman with the diamond encrusted rapier, resting his hand on her shoulder he glances to across the table catching the eye of another man before beginning. “Each of the people you see here, are family by choice, not blood. Some are married, and some betrothed...”
Suddenly, a fireball erupts from the palm of the mulleted human across the table, shooting through the air it barely misses its mark before igniting one of the portraits on the wall.
Leaping to his feet and flinging himself across the table, the manic looking human man charges into the wall, slamming his body into the portrait of himself in an awkward attempt to extinguish the flames.
Screaming, he falls to the floor, flailing and kicking, making it nearly impossible to get close to him. Rolling her eyes, the elven empath rests her hand on his arm, wincing slightly as the minor abrasions are healed quickly.
“Don’t go toward the light!”
“Stop encouraging him!”
Clearing his throat and squinting at his family, the grumpy old man sighs as he begins to speak again.
“If you are seeking us out to become one of us, our chairs are full. Those you see are the only ones to hold the Arkarm name. Some of us are willing to take on squires, apprentices, or minions, but that is something you would need to approach them about individually. They will decide if you are worthy, and bring you under the protection of the family.
“If you are seeking to hire us, we will act as assassins for a price. Come with your coin purse full and understand that your message is yours, we will simply deliver it.”
A rustling in the corner reminds you of the ominous presence of the zombie. Following your glaze, the necrolord clears his throat, drawing your attention.
“If you are looking for a fight, you’ve found one. We are everything you have heard about us, and far worse. We are the thieves, murderers, and outcasts from your wretched society... “
Pausing, he looks you in the eye, holding your gaze until you are forced to turn away.
“Make your choice wisely.”
Suddenly, pain flares behind your eyes and the world goes dark once more.
Soft light filters through the open window, a cool summer breeze drifts across your face. Lingering pain in the back of your skull serves as a dull reminder of the night before.
The bar in the Inn, a woman buying you one more drink, and then a room...
Shaking your head to clear it, you tell yourself that it was the booze, you are nobody of note, why would THEY take interest. It would not be the first time you woke up in an inn with cloudy memories.
Finally, convinced that it was all a dream, you stretch and begin to roll out of bed, your hand brushing across something next to you. You almost smile, thinking of the woman from the night before. Rolling over, you ponder the memories you can make to replace the ones you lost.
A guttural scream rips through you and a wave of terror racks your body as you realize that you are nose to nose with the severed head of a troll. The creature’s eyes are frozen open, as if it’s last vision was one of unfathomable horror. Centered between its eyes, the image of a ruined keep on a rocky mountainside is branded deep into the pallid skin of the disembodied head.
Godfather Zamn Arkarm
THE Necrolord Zerreck Arkarm
Stalker Crayzeke Arkarm
Gentleman Guaranzo Arkarm had lobotomy and is a shell of his former self
Statue Destroyer Dyamond Arkarm
Surgeon Mirque Arkarm, Legendary Necromancer
Philosopher Hydera Arkarm
Elanthia's Most Dastardly Erixx Arkarm, Fire Lord of Fireballs Greggers was sheared from his magnificent scalp resulting in an over all weakening and destruction of his spirit leaving him a shell of a man with no personality
Uthgaar Arkarm, Owner of Forfedar(Bail Bondsman of Synamon)
Mischief Maker Synamon Arkarm (poisoner of Uthgaar)
Holy Magic Legend Blackavar Arkarm A shard of tin was lodged in his brain after a cave in rendering him common, normal, boring. Mining is serious business.
Queen of Peace Marssi Darssi (forever an Arkarm)
Condran Arkarm, Junior Evil
Locistone Arkarm, Moon Magician
Applesauce Arkarm (Betrothed of Ohiyesa Longstalk)