Ravens Family

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Raven’s Crest

Intricately carved darkstone crest with purple gold inlay creates a filigree border and highlights a single branch stretching across the bottom of the shield. Crushed white diamonds form a glittery moon framing a detailed raven of blackened moonsilver with a blood ruby eye.

Raven’s Standard

A towering elven silk standard with detailed embroidery mounted on a black willow frame. Void black feathers are stitched into the wings of a raven with ruby red eyes, the fierce creature glares over the shoulder of a howling monkey. Tail raised in defiance, the monkey stands posed for battle.

The Court of Ravens

The first colors of sunrise are reflected on the ceramic tiles that decorate the town wall, a large building stands out amongst the townhomes that line the city street. A stylized raven adorns the flag that decorates the austere building. A pair of gnomes stand guard in front of the doors, blocking people from entering the clubhouse.

“Stop right there!”

Charging towards the crowd, weapons in hand, the gnomish guards slam into the knees of the irritated onlookers. Cries of pain mix with disgruntled shouts of indignation rise up from the gathered masses as the pair push and shove the group into a haphazard line.

“Don’t make me ham hammer you,” one of the guards exclaims while bashing a young paladin in the side of the head with a ham shaped hammer.

“We are lining them up, not knocking them down!”

Wielding a giant wrench, the second guard charges the first, completely abandoning his people herding mission. The pair slam into each other and fall to the ground at the feet of the shocked crowd. The epic battle ends as quickly as it began when a brave onlooker attempts to breach the clubhouse door. Both gnomish warriors pounce upon the man and effectively separate his soul from his being, rolling the corpse back into the crowd knocking several people over in the process.

“Guard the doors, don’t kill the vic… oh, nevermind.” An Elven woman dressed in leather sighs and shakes her head. “Do what you want, but remember we need three of them.” Stepping out from the crowd she gazes at the body with thinly veiled contempt as she makes her way to the door that opens just enough to allow her entry.

A circling raven begins to carefully watch the restless crowd, landing on the shoulder of a slender human man. A whisper from his handler sends the great bird back into the air, peppering the crowd with berry colored droppings. The man steps through the door, holding it open just long enough for his feathered companion to swoop through before pulling it shut behind him.

The tinkling first notes of a masterful ballad draws the crowds attention, a stunning Elven Bardess steps out from the building holding a delicate silversteel triangle. Coaxing impossibly beautiful notes from the simple instrument, she masterfully lulls the crowd into a blissful silence, even the gnomish guards fall quiet. Slowly she begins to increase the tempo of her song, building up layers of complex notes driving into the very beings of her audience.

The last notes of the piece drift away on a fall breeze and the crowd begins to stir just as the doors burst open and a dreamy eyed Halfling man wearing a bright purple vest under a charcoal topcoat tumbles out the door as if shoved from behind. A brilliantly bedazzled velvet tophat is thrown at the back of his head before the doors slam shut again behind him.

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen,” the Halfling announces as he scoops up the top hat and spins it on his finger before placing it on his head. “For the first time ever, we are opening the Court of Ravens to three lucky people for an exclusive tour!”

A few head shakes and the formerly entranced crowd begins to regain their senses. Disgruntled muttering turns into frustrated shouts as the people once again try to move toward the door of the clubhouse. A ghostly moan escapes the dead body at their feet as it begins to shimmer and then disappears into nothingness.

“Now, now. There is no reason to get upset, we will choose quickly and get started!” The halfling gives the crowd a crooked smile and steps back toward the doors to nudge the gnomish guards who seem to have forgotten their posts entirely.

“I am a paying member of Raven’s court and it is open to me whenever I wish, you imbecile”, an obnoxiously overdressed Elothean man declares, stepping towards the door.

“In your place, halfbreed,” a masked S’kra mur man steps in front of the Elothean, slapping him soundly. The man steps back in shock, obviously not used to such treatment. He opens his mouth to speak when a second S’kra punches him in the throat. Rendered speechless, he drops to his knees. Anyone else that may have been contemplating protest finds themselves falling quickly into line when several more S’kra folks emerge from the crowd. Nodding to the halfling and stepping around the tussling gnomes, the group enters the building,

“As I was saying, today, three lucky individuals will be chosen to take this once in a lifetime tour.” The halfling steps toward the crowd and puts on a show of looking over each person. He stands next to the disgruntled Elothean and gives him a sly smile before shoving him towards the door.

“I know, so excited you can’t even speak!” He chuckles as the man tries to wheeze out a protest, but his bruised vocal chords fail him.

A commotion rises from the crowd as a dapper gnomish gentleman is shoved through the masses and up to the front doors. Wide eyed, he looks around frantically and attempts to bolt, only to be beaned in the head by a ham shaped hammer, knocking him to the ground.

“Our final lucky visitor will be you,” the Halfing announces, nodding to a S’kra man who strides purposefully towards the door. He looks over the Elothean man with barely disguised disgust, obviously displeased with the company he is being asked to keep. The door opens and he makes his way into the clubhouse.

“Okay folks, we know you are disappointed, but the lucky three have been chosen so the rest of you should go ahead and be on your way.” Waving dismissively at the crowd, the Halfling pulls the Gnome to his feet and directs him through the door. The Elothean drops to the ground and crosses his arms in silent protest leaving the gnomish guards no other option but to drag him by the feet through the door, much to their delight.

The Raven’s Court foyer, with its gilded marble tiles and green and gold carpet accenting polished wooden walls oozes luxury. There are low tables and high-backed chairs set up to allow for conversation and paintings featuring landscapes across Elanthia. The Halfling hops up on one of the low tables near the center of the foyer and watches as the gnomish visitor tries fruitlessly to hide behind one of the chairs.

“Welcome to the Court of Ravens,” the Halfling says, waving his top hat with a flourish. “This is the foyer, not much happens in a foyer, but this one is ours.”

Rising from her seat along the back of the foyer, a striking human woman with plaited void black hair, gazes at the group unimpressed. She watches the gnomish guards begin playing a macabre tug of war with the Elothean’s legs while he howls in pain. Stepping over the protesting man she exits to the sunroom, unmoved by the Elothean’s predicament.

A swashbuckling S’kra slips around the warring gnomes and drops a plate of ham between them. Distracted, they release the Elothean who scrambles across the floor and tries fruitlessly to stand, all pretense of dignity dropped. A Kaldar woman sits in a chair next to him and taps his arm lightly. A flash of pain and a swirl of warmth, his wounds transfer to her, disappearing as quickly as they formed.

The Elothean guest stands and attempts to adjust his clothing, glaring at his captors he begins to complain loudly about how he has been treated only to to be cut off unceremoniously by a Dwarf in a loincloth. Shoving him back to the ground, the Dwarf begins to dance seductively. Scandalized, the Elothean sits in stunned silence unsure where to look as the pot bellied dancer girates to a song only he can hear.

“Are we touring or just torturing the halfbreed?” The S’kra volunteer asks, observing the chaos unamused. “I have other things to do today, and I was kind of hoping to get more Raven information out of this at least.”

“Oh right,” the Halfling says with a chuckle, motioning to an elegant Human paladin who drags the dancing Dwarf out of the room by his braided beard. “This room is less exciting than the rest, but we are in the process of remodeling, so it is all a work in progress.”

A tall S’kra man dressed in a traditional gamantang works at hammering a hook into the ornate front door. He hangs an intricate darkstone crest and steps back to admire his work. Purple gold inlay highlights the border of the crest and a single branch that stretches across the bottom. Crushed white diamonds create a glittery moon that frames a detailed raven of blackened moonsilver with a blood ruby eye.

The Elothean gasps and leaps to his feet yelling for the clerk while storming towards the man at the door. The S’kra draws his blade and the charging elitist nitwit runs himself through. Rolling his eyes the S’kra pulls back his blade as the Elothean drops to the floor in a heap.

“Hey! What have I told you about this!” The uniformed desk clerk, alerted by the scuffle, charges into the foyer stopping in his tracks at the sight of the dead Elothean. Shaking his head, he backs out of the room muttering under his breath. “They really do not pay me enough for this.”

With a chuckle, the Halfling leaps from the low table and intercepts the trembling gnome before he could follow the clerk out of the foyer. Putting his arm around the terrified fellow he motions to the others in the room and leads them all to the clubhouse dining room. “This way, more to see!”

The stunning dining room is surrounded by a lush water garden with fountains set in each corner. The expertly crafted ebony tables are set with gilded china and crystal glassware. A harried waitress stands near a detailed menu near the foyer watching in horror as the gnomish guards tumble in from the foyer, fighting over who gets to carry a plate of ham.

“Marry me?” A square jawed Elothean sits across the table from a grinning Elven woman, she rolls her eyes at the question and grabs a decadent cupcake from the pile on the plate in front of her and swats his hand away. “I will pay your bail?”

“You already do that,” the Elf replies with a shrug. The Elothean chuckles as she stands up and reaches across the table to smoosh a cupcake into his face. He grabs her wrist and unceremoniously pulls her across the table sending the dinnerware flying and plopping her in his lap. Laughing, she settles herself against his chest and blots the frosting off his cheek with the expensive linen napkins.

“Then you should marry me.”

“Eh, we’ll see.”

A low hiss comes from the S’kra guest as he looks around the room, eyes settling on an Elothean woman seated at a back table. Her void black hair is worn braided and pinned in a coronet, she is flipping through the pages of a notebook, at home in the chaos around her. The dueling gnomes crash through the center of the dining room and land in a bloodied heap next to her chair. She laughs as they struggle to stand, she heals their wounds with a tap on their arms, bruises blossom and fade away. Reaching into her bag she pulls out two roasted snowbeast hams and hands them to the gnomes. “Everything I own smells like bacon because of you two.”

“What’s with all the halfbreeds,” the S’kra hisses at his Halfling host, motioning to a balding Elothean man helping himself to the dessert cart. “These seem quite at home.”

“Some know their place,” the Halfling responds with a shrug.”For these few, their place is here.”

The S’kra narrows his eyes and glares at the Elothean woman as a S’kra man steps over the distracted gnomes to join her at her table. She shows him something written in her notebook, when the visiting S’kra hisses again drawing their attention. The room falls silent as the visitor stalks toward the table. He only makes it a few feet before dropping to the floor in a heap, a blue eyed S’kra standing over him.

The gnome visitor gasps and turns to run out of the dining hall, only to be intercepted by his host. Draping his arm around the trembling man’s shoulder the Halfling steers him around the edge of the room and into the ballroom.

“We protect our own, an insult against one is an insult against us all.” The trembling Gnome nods solemnly, following where he is led.

The spacious ballroom has arched ceilings with stunning stained glass panels. The opulent crystal chandeliers drip diamonds and send a kaleidoscope of color to play across the dance floor. A clubhouse staff member is slumped in a corner, he raises his head to protest as the Halfling leads his motley crew of ruffians into the pristine space. He quickly thinks better of taking action and instead covers his eyes to avoid the sight of warring gnomes scratching up his freshly polished floor.

The acoustically perfect designed ballroom carries the sound of minstrels playing softly behind a screen along a far wall. A golden eyed S’kra man can also be heard, pontificating to everyone and no one in general. “ I did that one thing that one time, when I helped someone, but then something happened and I had to stop.”

Propped up against the glass doors a towering silk standard hangs from a black willow frame. Detailed embroidery features void black feathers that are stitched into the wings of a raven with ruby red eyes, the fierce creature glares over the shoulder of a howling monkey. Tail raised in defiance, the monkey stands posed for battle.

“Well, this is it,” the Halfling says nodding to his still trembling guest. “How lucky you are to have learned so much!”

“Um, sir,” the gnome squeaks, his voice barely above a whisper. “ I don’t know what I should have learned.”

“Oh! I knew I was leaving something out!” The Halfling spins away from his captive audience and motions to the people around him. “We are the Ravens. We are everywhere and nowhere. We can move in silence, leaving only a trail of screams. Where there is injustice, we will be the justice, where there is justice, we will be the injustice. We are the protectors and the criminals. Everything, and nothing.” The Halfling waggles his fingers at the wide eyed Gnome and doffs his tophat in a low dramatic bow, the people around him shift and look away, visibly trying not to laugh.

“Okay that was a lot.” Patting the Gnome on the back in an attempt to reassure him, the Halfling smiles at his friends. “ The Royalty of the Provinces barrel through our lands unchecked. They take advantage of the masses and allow the guilded to behave as if they are gods, lording over the everyday man. We stand against that as a voice for the voiceless, someone to stand up for the underrepresented people in our world. We answer to no one but ourselves. We will serve as blades for hire, if the price is right and the cause fits our whim.”

The Gnome visibly relaxes for the first time, he nods solemnly to the Halfling and opens his mouth to speak, only to be silenced by a blade in his back.

“This seriously took all day, are we done now?” A stout Human steps over the Gnome and shakes his head at the people around him. “I have other things to do, you know.”

Disclaimer

The preceding words were placed in the order observed above by the player of Synamon under the direction and approval of the characters represented. No Elotheans, S'kra, or Gnomes were harmed in the spinning of this tale, obviously. Please note, any offense taken is yours and yours alone and we can not be held liable for your feelings and/or annoyance, but will happily offer you a cupcake if it makes you feel better. Ca-caw