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RE: The Hallows Inn

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1/2/2015 21:52:54   
Draycos777
Member

Whatever interest Kitsondra had for the thief's knives was instantly pushed aside when she received a reply from Sera.

"Interesting," The young woman answer, as always. Seemingly uninterested. "I'll probably take a look later. If someone else has these weapons, I need to know what they're like in case they're used against me."

"Hoh? A reply? Let's see if we can get that spark to grow. I'll give you some information on my homeland to help soften that mind of your's"

Kitsondra turned her attention back on Sera, paying the thief no mind whether he planed on answering or not. Those knives of his were, after all, only secondary on her list.

"That's probalby a good idea. The way Hallr spoke, those knives are suppose to be excellent at being thrown while still being sturdy enough for hand-to-hand combat or assassinations. Something about the unique blade design and firm hilt."

Kitsondra let the information she had just placed on the table to sit before starting again.

"Hallr bragged that they were the best weapon an assassin could have since they are coated black and work wonder with black and brown gear, at least were stealth matters."

Moments later and the front door of the Inn came bursting open. Two children, a young boy and an older girl, came running up to Kitsondra.

"Ms. Fon!, Ms. Fon! Have you heard!?" The girl tugged at her shirt.

Kitsondra smiled at them. "No Stella, what is it?"

The children's face gleamed when they learned that Kitsondra had apparently not heard what had happened to Turner yet. The young boy, no older then nine, spoke up.

"Turner's knee got broken last night!"

"When did this happen, Edwin?" Kitsondra asked the boy.

The girl chimed in next, to the young boy's disappointment. "Sometime last night, I don't know when, but he's been howling at the clinic all morning."

Kitsondra wonder what could have happened that would cause such an injury...until she remembered commenting on the half-elf's appearance in the Inn. Turner has always been causing Marietta problems and the elf had come back just after the change of guards. Putting two-and-two together, Kitsondra guessed the rest of what happened. Smiling at the children again, she grabbed a leather sack hidden behind one of the metal plates of her skirt and took out six gold coins. Giving the kids three pieces each she patted them on the heads.

"Thanks you two, what was useful to know."

The kids smiled and after giving Sera a quick hello, took off as children do; like a storm. No doubt off to stow away the money they had just earned. Turning back to Sera Kitsondra noticed a slight look in her eye that quickly vanished. Kitsondra laughed at this and explained.

"As an information broker I realize the speed at which information and rumors reaches the ears children and travels through their mouths. I'd be a fool not to use such a resource. How do you thing I know so much about the happens of the town before older folk are even aware that it exist?"
AQ  Post #: 76
1/2/2015 22:13:39   
  Gingkage
Wolf Rider


 Sera had a sinking feeling she should have stopped at 'interesting,' when Kitsondra completely ignored the thief in favor of pestering her again.

"That's probalby a good idea. The way Hallr spoke, those knives are suppose to be excellent at being thrown while still being sturdy enough for hand-to-hand combat or assassinations. Something about the unique blade design and firm hilt."

Hm. Kitsondra paused for an unusually long time. As if there was something there that Sera had missed that was important.

"Ugh. My mother's good at stuff like this, not me," she thought in frustration. Nonetheless, that information - complete with the pause - was filed and mentally stamped as 'probably important.' There were a few people who owed her favors. None in this town, but perhaps one of them might have heard something about Kitsondra. Or at least about these 'kunai.'

"Hallr bragged that they were the best weapon an assassin could have since they are coated black and work wonder with black and brown gear, at least were stealth matters." More knowledge about the weapon. More interesting facts. Before Sera had a chance to even say another noncommittal 'interesting' the door burst open and a couple kids ran in.

She knew those kids. Little imps, mostly, but her expression softened when they ran in. And then changed to one of shock when they went straight to the broker.

"Children actually trust her?" She was shocked. She barely spent any time in this town, and even less within a stone's throw of Kitsondra and she could feel that the woman was dangerous. She didn't know how, perhaps, but she still knew.

They excitedly told Kitsondra about Turner's knee injury. Interesting, but irrelevant. Though she wasn't upset about it. Turner was an oaf and if he was out of commission, that meant she might not have to deal with him.

The kids ran off too quickly for her to return their hello, and Sera was still to surprised to even think of the greeting. When Kitsondra turned back around, she tried - and failed - to pull the mask back on in time. She was positive that Kitsondra noticed her surprise, though she didn't comment on it.

"As an information broker I realize the speed at which information and rumors reaches the ears children and travels through their mouths. I'd be a fool not to use such a resource. How do you thing I know so much about the happens of the town before older folk are even aware that it exist?"

"She's unusually chatty," Sera thought, just managing to keep the suspicion from showing in her expression. "Eight years I've been here off and on, and this is the first time she's shown any type of interest in me. What is she after?"

She could not quite keep a slight edge of coldness from her tone when she answered.

"I have never wondered or cared to wonder how an information broker gathered said information. I rarely deal with them so it has never been a concern."

Kitsondra was fishing. Sera didn't know what for, or why, but as dangerous as the game was, she decided the best move was to let it play out a little longer. It was the only marginally safe move she could think to make. If she left now, she would be running scared. If she tried to change the topic, she might let something slip. While Kitsondra was the one directing things, at least she had time to think about her answers. And the longer Kitsondra fished, the better the chance Sera had - doubtful as it was - of figuring out just what the woman was after.

"Let her fish."
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 77
1/2/2015 22:33:17   
blankmaskara
Member

A few moments of silence lingered in the dining area, then, with a brief announcement from the warrior named Toren, the patrons started to disperse.

Front gates by dusk.... I'll make sure to keep that in mind.

Grasping his stave tightly, Franklin lowered himself onto his stool and resumed his meal. Utensils scraped against the plate and clinked as they came into contact with one another, forming a distinct, repeating rhythm as his mind trailed off into deep thought.

As according to Toren, they would fight the Nazha by dusk. Not exactly the best time to be hunting such creatures, especially if they thrived in the darkness. The fact that they seemed to know and predict every move of their opponents didn't bode well with him. They can read him, but he couldn't, especially not in the dark.

Hopefully they won't exactly be as silent as an assassin in midnight, or else there may be a problem.. At the very least, there should be a few people here with more than five ways to sense others.

A silent groan escaped his lips at this. The situation seemed to get more complicated as he thought more about it. The risk was greater than ever, yet, the thrill he felt before still remained. A part of himself couldn't help but shiver with excitement at the prospect of battling a foe a cut above the rest. Besides that, if he was lucky, he could learn the black magics of these creatures and take it for himself. However, the danger of death still lingered, looming over him like a sword hanging from a string. And, with a limping leg and an arm reduced to mere skin and bones, he wasn't as capable as others were. He could even be the first to perish, and so he wondered how this part of him could remain so optimistic.

Unless, of course, maybe I want to die. To get the easy way out..

His stomach churned at the thought, and he quickly dispelled it. Focus returned to the meal in front of him, or at least, what was left of it. Just then, a bounty hunter dressed in brigandine armor with fur wedged in between the open spaces passed by and out of the inn. Not even a singe sound was made as he moved out, even with his odd gait. His steps felt deliberate and heavily weighted, not unlike that of a couple of warriors he witnessed long ago as they left for battle. The girl of ever- shifting pupils seemed to pick up on this and trailed after him, following the bounty hunter to wherever he was headed.

Franklin didn't quite know what to make of this, but considering that hunter's gait and the weapons he carried, it was highly possible he was headed to hunt down a particular mark. But, the morning didn't seem suitable for the monsters of this place to venture out of their hidey-holes. Unless, of course...

It's inside the inn..

Face twisted in annoyance and mild anger, Franklin bit his lip, waiting for the inevitable. There wasn't anything he could do about it now, and as much as he desired peace and quiet, the patrons and visitors of this inn wouldn't have it.

Just then, the sound of a door being sliced and torn from its hinges echoed throughout the inn, followed by the surprised, almost shocked-white exclamation of a young girl. A quick, powerful punch could be heard just a few seconds later, knocking down the would-be assailant onto the floor.

Strange.. There wasn't any sound of glass breaking and a projectile smashing against anything in particular. Maybe that man was doing something else? Unless, there was another one with him that remained inside.

A woman then appeared, perched on the stairs, violet hair and red eyes beckoning Franklin's attention to her. She said a few words of apology regarding something about her and her client disagreeing, a broken door, and the client's companion running off to parts unknown. From what Franklin had heard and seen, however, those were all lies.

Client? Don't fool me. I'll make sure to keep an eye on you next time. Besides, I wonder what manner of an abomination you really are..

Franklin shifted his gaze back onto the last few scraps left on the plate, consuming whatever edible object was left. This was the first decent meal he had after countless days of travel, after all. Perhaps, after this, he would retire to his room for a good few hours of rest. He had enough intrigue for the day, he supposed, with only more to come later.

Palms against the surface of his table, Franklin started to rise from his seat, only to notice the dirty traveler with unkempt clothes approach the female mercenary, asking for information about the dreadful forest. Apparently, Sera was the name of the mercenary, while Kenet belonged to that mud-covered, poncho-wearing man.

Perhaps, I could wait a bit longer.

Lowering himself back onto his seat, Franklin decided to eavesdrop onto the conversation. There was knowledge to be found here, and knowledge he would attain. The rogue had approached them by that time, offering what he knew about the place, although for a price. Nevertheless, it seemed to catch Kenet's attention. However, it faded just as quickly with the violet-haired woman bursting inside the inn, joining into the conversation.

And here she is yet again. Ever so haughty, isn't she?

The topic of conversation quickly shifted into knives, with the newcomer addressing Sera, bringing her news of some new daggers the blacksmith had made. "Kunai", she called it. Although it seemed very much casual, Franklin felt a bit of tension. With a slight grin and red eyes trained onto the mercenary, it was clear that the (doubtedly) human lady wanted something, information, possibly. She wanted the mercenary to slip and give out the slightest bit on info, hence her mentioning knives. Sera most probably held a special interest in them, and could very well mistakenly say something implicating about herself with the mention of them.

But, just when her focus seemed to be rooted into Sera alone, she questioned the thief regarding his own daggers. They were--now that he looked at them--of a fine make, and it was strange that a rogue such as him was able to gain possession of such weapons.

The woman continued to converse, shifting her attention to Sera once more, unsatisfied with her response. It seemed the mercenary was able to restrain herself from saying something out of line. However, the way things were going, he wondered if she would be able to keep her guard up for long.

Just when Franklin supposed the conversation would continue, a pair of children barged into the inn, saying "Ms. Fon, Ms. Fon!" repeatedly to catch her attention. Apparently, they had news of some random guard named Turner and his broken knee. Nothing useful, really. However, the so-called Ms. Fon disagreed, thanking the kids for the supposedly useful info provided, paying them with a bit of coin along the way. A passing comment was also made about how it would be foolish, as an information broker, to fail to realize the benefits and skills that only children could provide. However, only the word "information broker" rang through Franklin's head.

Well, so she's an information broker, isn't she? Making money of others' secrets and private matters. Wouldn't it be ironic if her own secret were to come out? Regarding what she is, or what she's done?

Chuckling at the thought, the sorcerer remained seated, continuing to listen in just as Sera made another noncommittal statement about how she didn't care about Ms. Fon's work.
Post #: 78
1/2/2015 23:17:54   
Draycos777
Member

"I have never wondered or cared to wonder how an information broker gathered said information. I rarely deal with them so it has never been a concern."

Kitsondra frowned at Sera's words. She hoped that was a lie, because she viewed Sera as being smarter then that.

"Oh well, if she doesn't care about my methods, then that makes it all the more easier to set up a trap for her. In the eight years I've tried to get to know you, your still the only town resident who's page in my book is still incomplete." That's ok though, your trying much to hard with that last one to be telling the truth. You can put a mask over your face and the tone of your voice, but you can't hide what your words say."

"Well that's...unfortunate. I thought you of all people would care about how future allies acted or about how they conducted business. You are a professional after all. Such information would only help you."

Kitsondra readjusted herself in her chair and continued. "You know, they say you can learn a lot about someone by how they walk, about what kinds of weapons they use and the body language they use."

"I wonder what will happen if I let her know I found a hole in her defense she just opened for me. Normally, most people make an even bigger hole somewhere else when they try to take from their defense to cover up a small hole. Of course theres the small chance she's one of those special people who are good at negotiation and I'll be back a ground zero."

Kitsondra decided that it was worth the risk, she rarely got a chance like this. If she failed, the Nazha threat later in the day who make sure that this wasn't her only chance a talking to Sera. "But when it comes to brokers, it's how they collect their information that show who they are."

Kitsondra paused once again, letting Sera intentionally know of her earlier slip up. "As well as how we talk and the gaze in our eye. So when dealing with a broker, remember body language is key."

Kitsondra leaned on the table and used her right hand as a rest, after ordering a mug of tea. "If we start becoming fidgety, that means either one of two things. They're not telling the whole truth or you've just told them something you shouldn't have and they've become excited that something good has come out of the talk."

< Message edited by Draycos777 -- 1/2/2015 23:24:20 >
AQ  Post #: 79
1/2/2015 23:48:33   
  Gingkage
Wolf Rider


 "Well that's...unfortunate. I thought you of all people would care about how future allies acted or about how they conducted business. You are a professional after all. Such information would only help you."

Sera very nearly responded that information brokers weren't her allies, but bit her tongue in time. She was livid. She was not stupid.

"I prefer to gain my information first-hand instead of going through brokers," was all she said in response to that. More information than she wanted to give, perhaps. But she had already concluded she had to give Kitsondra something. This was always going to end with the broker learning about her. Better to give something relatively useless. She had made a small name for herself. At least some of the people she dealt with were aware of this, so it wasn't like that was a secret. This should be safe to give.

"Of course, I thought that before and the mistake nearly killed me." The reminder wasn't pleasant. But it was one she needed to keep firmly in the forefront of her mind. She had to be very, very careful of what she did and didn't say. She'd already slipped up once. She had to avoid more of them.

Then Kitsondra made a small speech about the importance of body language.

Wait, what? That was... random. Why carry on about this? She'd known about the importance of body language since she was small.

Perhaps she could use this. If Kitsondra thought she'd caught her in something, acting nervous would possibly throw her off.

"Not that I have to pretend to be nervous," she thought, fidgeting the slightest bit, a rabbit trying to escape the owl without being noticed. Kitsondra suddenly looked less like a woman and more like a predator who had decided that she would make a good meal. Every one of her instincts were screaming at her to get out, and get out immediately or grab her weapon and attack. Fight. Or flight. The oldest instincts. And the ones she had learned the hard way to trust.

"In a corner. No room. Can't fight. Need to find a way to leave without looking like I'm running, then." There wasn't a ready opening available, though. Wrapping her professionalism around herself, she tried to calm herself visibly as much as possible.

She was, however, very glad that even her fondness for children hadn't lead her to hold any sort of conversation with them. The adults she only dealt with as far as her job was concerned. The children she might have talked to. Now that she knew that everything they learned went straight to this... person in front of her, she would have to make sure that she didn't talk about herself to them. Whatever else she thought about Kitsondra, information brokers were types of predators. No more or less than she was, but their ways of hunting weren't as direct.

"I shouldn't have played the game," she knew that. She had known from the start she was on uneven ground with this woman. She had made a mistake, and now it was biting her.

"I am intelligent enough to be aware of the importance of body language, yes," she finally said, allowing the coldness from earlier to remain in her tone. Professional Sera had been cracked with that first hint of a snarl. Time to run with it and see how far it would carry her - hopefully to a chance to excuse herself from the conversation.

< Message edited by Gingkage -- 1/2/2015 23:49:02 >
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 80
1/3/2015 0:33:34   
Draycos777
Member

"well, that was unexpected."

The conversation had gone almost no where with Kitsondra's last few remarks. Had she miscalulated?

"Either she really doesn't care about the method's brokers use, or she's really good at acting."

Then again, the recent fidget told her otherwise. To her broker nature, it told her the the woman's defense was falling apart which confused Kitsondra.

"My goodness your quite the nut to crack, and one I've been eye for so long that I'd hate to leave now."

However, some nuts are best opened slowly, least their shells explode in your face and Sera seemed to be of one such kind. Kitsondra's vampiric senses let her see tension in other areas of Sera's body and is wasn't giving off signs to continue her prying.

"Fight or flight? Tsk, no conversation has ever ended on a good note when I pressed a person once they started showing such signs. I end it at that then."

Kitsondra sat up right and took a drink of the tea she was just given. After a good, long sip she spoke once more. "Well, to recap, You don't like brokers, you have a fondness of kids, you seem to have some prior negotiation skills and you like ale, which is old considering your a warrior and to much dulls the senses."

With that Kitsondra stood up."Everything that I told you about those knives was true if you'd like to take a look at them. I myself have used them in the past. You'd also learned a bit about brokers so you can deal with them more effectively now, well hopefully. All-in-all I think this was a nice trade of knowledge so I'll take my leave."

"I'm sure you'll have no problem with me doing that. I happy with today progress; I can finally start filling in the blanks on her page."

Grinning Kitsondra and headed over to Sloan, in order to inform him of the broken door.
AQ  Post #: 81
1/3/2015 4:09:13   
  Gingkage
Wolf Rider


 Sera tensed slightly when Kitsondra again spoke up, but relaxed that same minute amount at the words she said.

"Well, to recap, You don't like brokers, you have a fondness of kids, you seem to have some prior negotiation skills and you like ale, which is old considering your a warrior and to much dulls the senses."

'Dislike' was putting it mildly in her opinion, but there was no need to let the person in front of her know that. Beyond the prior negotiation skills, Kitsondra had been able to tell more than Sera wanted to know, just from the little bit she said, didn't say, and likely did and didn't do.

She nearly smirked in amusement at the comment on ale. She took after her mother in that regard. It took quite a few to dull her senses, and she only ever drank one. But let Kitsondra think that there was a chance Sera was dulling her senses. An inaccurate assumption on her meant that she had bad information - at least in part.

When Kitsondra finally left, Sera breathed an inaudible sigh of relief, adrenaline leaving her body in a rush.

"'Nice trade of knowledge.' Ha! As if brokers dealt in an actual trade. She got at least some of what she wanted out of me, I'm sure of it. And gave me enough that most people would probably agree with her. But she told me almost nothing I didn't already know." Sera kept her thoughts to herself. No sense in saying something to bring her back here.

The ordeal was over with. For now, at least. She had a sinking suspicion that Kitsondra would try again in the future. But for the moment, she had other things on her mind. Like investigating this new knife Kitsondra mentioned...

Finishing her own drink, Sera made her way outside. The blacksmith wasn't too far, but she decided to take a more roundabout route. Just in case.
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 82
1/3/2015 11:58:50   
Legendium
Member

"I'm following you," she said, "lucky for Kitsondra, hmm? Any longer, and you would have put a stake through her heart. What a mess that would have been. Who would explain to Sloan that one of his longest tenants was dead?"

Heinrich was quite able to follow the first half of the sentence; which wasn't very useful, as he had already assumed he was being followed. The rest of her sentence sounded more like " …. For…. Hmm? … longer, and you would have … a … her… What a … that would have been. Who would… Sloan that one of his longest … was dead?" With most of the key words missing from his vocabulary, Heinrich had no idea how to respond. Luckily he didn't have to. After a slight pause, she continued.

"How did you know Kitsondra is a vampire?" The girl asked, tilting her head "and for that matter, who are you, to take it upon yourself to kill, well, one of them?"

Finally, simple words he could understand. Well most of them. Before he could respond though, she extended her hand, saying "My name is Maria, by the way. It's always proper to exchange names upon first meeting."

Heinrich was about to shake her hand and introduce himself as well, when he was interrupted yet again. And even more rudely, someone else, whom he didn't even know, was introducing him!

The person, no, spirit, judging by the smell of tarnished silver, had snuck up on their conversation. Heinrich had seen her before; it was the one from the inn who wore the gaudy clothing and spoke in first person plural.

“Maria, you have the pleasure to speak with Heinrich, a witch hunter from the north. As magic detects magic, he noticed Kitsondra. Too bad he seems to be a little too… narrow-minded. I wouldn’t go about shooting stakes into creatures that are working to defend this town, a little detail that he would know if he bothered to observe his surroundings before becoming intent on taking another’s life.”

Heinrich was beginning to hate people who used complicated words. He had understood the first two sentences fairly well; well enough to know that a random stranger knew of his name, occupation and skills. Well, telling that he was a witch-hunter shouldn't be too difficult; after all, his armor was fairly uniform with the Order of Magus, and thus his skills should be well known. But his name? How the heck did this utter stranger know his name? Sure, he was well-known in the north for his black hand, but this far south, nobody should know about him. Unless they come from the north, obviously, like Sorlan Therin.
The rest of her little speech was almost entirely lost on him. He heard the words bad, little, defend and life. Definitely not enough to get what the heck the spirit was saying.

Unfortunately, before Heinrich could inquire as to how she knew his name, he lost his footing on the branch and fell down flat on his back. Oof! How on earth did that happen? he thought, looking up at the branch with the girl on it. He could swear he had picked on of the flattest, least slimy parts of the tree branch. And to land on one of the single hard patches of ground in all of Darkwald? What terrible luck.
Fortunately though, he hadn't broken anything.
Getting up, he walked towards the spirit. Obviously, if she knew his name, she had to have been in Friesland at some time. Hopefully that meant she spoke Friesisch.

"Excuse me, but have we met?" He asked in his own language. His hand wasn't on his sword's hilt, but certainly in a position from which he could easily access it.
DF MQ Epic  Post #: 83
1/3/2015 12:26:08   
TJByrum
Member

Toren allowed Lily to exit the apothecary before leaving himself, closing the door behind him. The woman named Caroline, sister of Heinrich, had been friendly enough to concoct three vials of the required antidote. "That was easy," the warrior exclaimed before taking the lead and heading back for the inn. He observed that the sun had long reached is zenith and prepared to retreat behind the western horizon.

"Sure," Lily replied, not focusing on what her guardian was saying. She walked with a childish skip in her steps, carelessly glancing around to see what was going on within the town. It was dank here, and very grimy. "This place is certainly... unique."

"Blackwater has the honor of being built in one of the most damned regions of the earth. I've never quite understood why someone would want to live here. It is the product of laziness and greediness... or hastiness and opportunity. For a while it was deemed to dangerous to travel, but whatever evil resided here was defeated long ago. Before long people decided it was much quicker - albeit more dangerous - to travel through the Darkwald rather than go around it. That's when others exploited the location: building small shops and inns like the ones you see around here, offering refuge and fresh supplies to those travelers. That was the birth of Blackwater, or so the stories go."

Lily nodded her head, soaking in the knowledge. She was interested in history, or rather interested in everything educational. She was an intelligent girl, and given the opportunity could become a great person one day. "Cool," she simply replied. "What about the Nazha? How is it you know so much about them?"

Toren's pace seemed to nearly halt for a moment, but he resumed his steps within a single second. "Some things are better left unsaid, Lily girl. Besides, it's not important anymore. All that matters is we have a chance to beat them. I am more than certain our allies are having a merry time in the inn as we speak." The irony in Toren's assumptions was ripe; he had no idea two of the group had already tried to kill Kitsondra, the Queen of Illusions.

"Not that," Lily said, "I mean... how do you know when they will attack? How they will attack?"

Toren laughed a bit, enthused about the girl's curiosity. "It isn't simply a weapon that wins a fight," he said, tapping on his sword before moving his finger up to his head and tapping on it, "it is your mind as well." The inn wasn't to far off the duo would reach it within a moment's time, so he continued to explain himself. "We've been outrunning the Nazha for a little over a month now. But no matter where we go or what we do, they're always a few hours behind us. Therefore, I suspect the Nazha are already here; I believe they're out there in the forest, watching us even now. If this is true, then they will attack as soon as they're able. But first they must prepare their ritual, which takes time. By then it would be close to dusk, and I would wager they'd attack during the nightfall, under the guise of darkness."

"That... that makes sense," the girl replied.

"Come now," he motioned to her, "let us see how our allies fare". Toren walked up the steps of the porch that acted a sort of bridge over the Stone River, pushed open the door to the inn and stepped inside. He could see Lock, Kenet, Sera, and Kitsondra awaiting at one of the tables. Nice to see we're getting along and not fighting each other, he thought, completely oblivious to the previous events. Sera, however, stood back up and walked out of the inn, and Kitsondra escorted herself over to Sloan, leaving Lock and Kenet together at the table. "Come," he quickly said, "let us inquire on our allies."

Toren lead himself and Lily over to the table with Kenet and Lock. "Hello again, friends," he said. His approach and demeanor was a bit more friendlier than earlier, as all the tension and urgency was gone; those emotions would have to wait until dusk, which was not to far off. He pulled a seat out for Lily, who plopped down in it, and then sat beside her. At first he wanted to rear his head back to evade the stench of Kenet, but pushed through it. Lily, on the other hand, was not so subtle.

"Ew, by the Gods!" Lily's exclamation could be heard over the entire inn. "What's wrong with you, haven't you ever bathed before? There's a river just outside the inn!" Lily was leaned back in her chair, and her hand was clutching her nose shut.

"Lily!" Toren snapped at her. He sighed before turning to Kenet. "Apologies, wanderer, she's... young, you must forgive her. But I must admit, you do give off an unnatural.... aura."

"Aura!? He smells like the backwash of Ivenstead after a thick rainstorm! His smell is enough to drive the Nazha away for good!" Lily's tone was somewhat provocative and her childish ways could far eclipsed anything from Toren. "Where's the mages around here," she hollered, looking and waving at anyone, "can't someone cast a spell to make this guy smell good!"

< Message edited by TJByrum -- 1/3/2015 13:30:45 >
DF AQW  Post #: 84
1/3/2015 15:24:33   
Bastet
Member

Symphony was amused by the way the witch hunter fell from his tree after he noticed their intrusion into the conversation. When he got up showing no permanent injuries, the spirit was glad they wouldn’t have had him on their conscience. The magic-killer was quite an imposing figure, a feature amplified by the fact that he was now walking towards the guitar player. Not for one moment had Symphony stopped playing their instrument, it had become a second nature to them. Whenever they could, they would play music.
Before Heinrich could reach them, the spirit’s gaze wandered once again towards the tree. The branch that crumbled under the man’s weight hadn’t seemed damaged to them, but it had fallen nonetheless. Maybe he weighed more than he looked. Symphony realized that the hunter hadn’t fully grasped their speech, and hoped that speaking unknown languages was part of a spirit’s repertoire of abilities.
Heinrich stopped in front of them, and took his chances by hoping that Symphony was able to speak his native language.

"Excuse me, but have we met?"

The spirit smiled at the hunter, and then answered to his question. Fortunately, they found themselves able to speak the man’s tongue at will, as if they knew it since they were born.

“I believe we haven’t, my friend. I never visited Friesland, either. Your native land has never interested me much, its songs are.. cold. Like they could freeze the strings of my guitar. That, and I don’t like being around people that destroy magic for a living.”

Symphony took a brief pause, and gave the man an innocent look. Hopefully, a stake aimed at their heart wasn’t next.

“It would be rude to leave you in the dark about what I said earlier. I called you narrow-minded: you should have noted the fact that Kitsondra doesn’t endanger this town, but rather protects it. A little detail you’d know if you spent some time observing the area instead of agreeing with Sorlan to immediately take her life. Don’t become worse than those you claim to save the world from, witch hunter.”

Symphony carefully awaited Heinrich’s response, partly afraid that their words would irritate him to the point of engaging in violent acts against the spirit. It would’ve just proven them right, but they preferred to keep their physical form intact.
They smiled again, though this time They didn't look directly in the hunter's eyes.

"I thought I smelled of something nicer than tarnished silver."

< Message edited by Bastet -- 1/3/2015 15:26:22 >
Post #: 85
1/3/2015 15:32:44   
black knight 1234567
Member

Thick air with fiery torches, almost as if they had a will of their own, the walls of the room slowly closing in as the tiles felt colder and colder, almost as if they were ice ready to crack under the weight at any moment, and there was a thick damp smell in the air, even thicker than Darkwald during its downpours. Sorlan was barely able to put those thoughts together as he got up from the ground, his shift alternating between the nightmarish scene and the actual inn that existed in physical reality, but all of it was underlined by one feeling: that of shame.

How could she get away? how could I be so careless to fall into the broker's trap?! i'm Therin, damn it! one of the most prestigious hunters of the order, Werewolves howl in fear when they hear my name ogres build caves to hide from my shadow! a simple illusion by a blood sucker beat me to the ground?!
Those unsavory thoughts kept repeating, running through his head as he lay there on the ground of the Inn, awake yet incapable of mustering up the strength to get up. However, as the pieces started coming back together, he remembered something the illusionist had told him.

"I've spent many years to get the peaceful life that I have right now. I'd appreciate it if you'd not try and ruin it. But if you're so hellbent on it, you and your friend can join Toren's band of friends for a second chance...maybe."
No, the hunter refused to accept defeat. Soon, he felt himself regain his strength, rolling around on his stomach, his hands pushed against the brown wood of the inn, not icy cold stone. Torches replaced by harmless candles and the damp smell replaced by that of the Inn. The illusion held no power over him anymore.
Toren's the key to all of this.
Soon, the hunter was up on his feet, stake and blade still in hand as he sheathed the latter and head downstairs.

There she was, the vampire.
No, not this time Sorlan. You tried once, and you failed. You must strike when the time is right, not now. he clenched his fist around the blade and stake, ignoring the looks of anger painted over Sloan's face, who Ms Fon was addressing. However, his fist tensed around the blade as he walked right into the middle of the inn.
''I'm looking for a man named Toren.'' unsure of which of the colorful characters he was looking for, he settled for making a public announcement instead.
''I do not know who you are, what your goal is or what you may require of me, but I swear myself into your service. All my skills, tools and abilities are under your disposal till you deem fit to release me.''
And thus, he bought himself a second chance to take down the elusive vampire, or so he hoped.

< Message edited by black knight 1234567 -- 1/3/2015 15:36:04 >
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 86
1/3/2015 20:02:22   
Draycos777
Member

Kitsondra started her conversation with Sloan by giving him the leather sack coins she had used to pay the kids with. At this action, Sloan's face instantly went sour. Had had Kitsondra as a patron long enough to know that if she was handing him money that something happened to the Inn that wasn't going to be pretty.

"What's 'appened to thee Hallows?" Sloan pointed a knowing glance at Kitsondra.

"Not much," Kitsondra replied casually. "Some idiot broke down my door so now it needs a replacement."

Kitsondra was too happy at the current moment from her recent conversation to be worried about the look she was receiving from Sloan. She was even happier by Sera actions just then as well. As soon as she had left the young women's table, Sera finished her drink and left the Inn. Kitsondra smirked and shook her head.

"You still got a ways to go Sera. Don't you know that the negotiation isn't over as soon as both parties split ways? It lingers on the table for a few minutes. You should have checked to make sure I was gone before rushing off like that. You your the professional I think you are then your not leaving town with a job, nor would you be looking for work around town with the gathering time so close. And since I'll never seen you do anything else around town, the only other option is that you were actually more interested in those knives then you let on. Nobody rushes off like that to look at knives if they're only going for 'business purposes'."

Another thing to add to Sera's page.

"So you have a fondness for weapon's eh? Maybe I should start making short conversations with her more often and then linger around to see her actions afterwards. Who knows, I might get more information about you that way."

Just then, the hunter that Kitsondra had punched earlier came down the stairs. He took a glance at Kitsondra speaking with Sloan and for a second she wondered if he'd try again. Thankful he acted a but wiser this time.

''I'm looking for a man named Toren.'' The hunter spoke of in general to the crowd.

Kitsondra sighed to herself. "I guess it was a little much to ask that he give up on the first try."

''I do not know who you are, what your goal is or what you may require of me, but I swear myself into your service. All my skills, tools and abilities are under your disposal till you deem fit to release me.''

Kitsondra raised an eyebrow at the last part of the hunter's speech. Had he misunderstood what she had said to him. Or had is hunter friend not informed him of what was happening to the town soon? Either way that would be helpful to her later on.

Kitsondra turned her attention away from the hunter and to two other matters that acquired it more then him right now. Making her way upstairs, Kitsondra entered her room. Starting up a rather small magical sequence, she traced the frame, that had once housed a door in it, with her right index finger.

"Return to the form you once had." With that a door appeared within the frame. It was a simple illusion, made so that she could have some temporary privacy and to hopefully deter any would-be snooper from trying to enter her room. But and simple illusion is still simple and if someone was to brush up on it, if would easily give way, plus it offered no sound or air protection like a normal door would.

"That'll have to do for now, until I can get a replacement."

Kitsondra turned back to her desk. She had to make sure that just in case the illusion door she had made did indeed fail, that the important things were safe. As she walked up to her desk, the enchanted quill stood straight awaiting it's next order.

"Swan: rest." The quill sagged as if pouting about not having something to do and turned around in it's ink bottle.

Kitsondra laughed at this. "Of all the people that have enchanted quill pens, I end up having one with an attitude. You don't even have a face you look a way from me with."

The quill seemed to pout more at this remark, causing Kitsondra to sigh. "At least you a very hard worker, which I'm thankful for."

The quill, called Swan, twirled around noticeably proud of the compliment it had been given. Kitsondra opened her desk's drawer on the bottom right, then picked up the ink bottle with Swan in it and placed him inside. She then closed the book he had been writing in, after making sure the ink had dried, and placed it next to him then closed the drawer. Opening the dresser next, Kitsondra looked over all the folders and books on her desk, sorted them and then placed them inside the dresser according to the other books and folders that were already inside and locked the dresser. After that time consuming, but necessary chore, Kitsondra had only one more matter at hand to deal with. Kitsondra needed to speak with the mayor. Taking the gauntlets she had placed of her bed, Kitsondra strapped them back onto her arms and walked up to the fake door. Listening to make sure no one was out in the hallway, she passed through her Illusion and walked downstairs and out of the Inn; headed to the Mayor's house.



The Mayor's house was quite large, in fact almost as big as the Hallows Inn itself. Knocking on the door, Kitsondra waited until she was answered.

"Ah, Kitsondra. How are you doing? Forgive me, but I wasn't expecting you. "

"I wasn't expecting to have to come here either Mayor Hurst, but something as come up."

Mayor Hurst, a true description of the term 'golly old man'. Hurst was a kind man, whether he was in front of other or alone with his family, and thanks to the fact he helped start up at least several successful businesses he was wealthier than either Kitsondra- who had saved up thirty years worth of gold- and Sloan-who ran the largest business in Blackwater-. He wealth let him eat any amount of food he wanted so he was just a bit on the plump side. Some even say that he had deep pockets even before coming to Blackwater.

"Would you like to come in?" Mayor Hurst offered.

"No," Kitsondra rejected him. It was best that she told him quickly so that things got done faster. "thanks but it's best I tell you now. I have a favor I need to ask you."

Mayor Hurst was taken aback by this and became just a tiny bit tense. It wasn't that he was afraid of Kitsondra. In fact she had done nothing but help him. Being the proprietor of several businesses plus a father of three boys, he was barely even able to make the time to raise his kids. So dealing with their issues was almost nigh-impossible, as much as he hated to admit it. When he learned that his youngest was hang around the forest, he became very worried. The forest was dangerous and any number of things could happen if his boy ran into trouble. With no one that was willing to brave the forest in order to make sure his son was safe, he turned to the one person that could help him. Kitsondra knew every bit about the town, she should indeed be able to help him. If fact, putting his kind nature and wealth aside, the fact that neither Sloan nor Kitsondra has never shown any interest in being Mayor might be one of the reasons he has the title to begin with. Hurst was happy and relived when she told him that his son was having late night rendezvous with a potential in-law, and her words turned out to be true as he soon brought the girl home with him one day. No. The reason he was tense was because, of all the years he's know Kitsondra , the air around her never once made her out to be one that ever would ask someone for help. Actually, with her line of profession it was normally the other way around. For her to be asking for a favor, Hurst was almost reluctant to hear what it was.

"Wh-what do you need?" Mayor Hurst wiped sweat away from his forehead as he asked.

"I need you to work with Sloan to keep the townsfolk safe. I need you to make sure they stay in their houses starting at dusk and on throughout the night. Something is coming to attack Blackwater."

His feeling was right, he was sorry he asked. "How, do you know this?"

"Some fool entered the Inn early this morning stated the he had a powerful enemy on his tail and they followed him here so he need our help to beat them. The only catch is that they've never been beaten before." Kitsondra sighed, something she had been doing a lot lately today, then continued. "I offered to help but I want to make sure no one gets caught in the cross fire. Ever if the man's claims are unfounded, its better to be safe just in case. Can you do this for me?"

"Under attack again...please take care out there." Mayor Hurst shook his head in agreement to Kitsondra's question closed the door as she walked off, calling after his oldest son.

"Now that everything is taken care of, it time to see whether or not that man, Toren, was really telling the truth."

It would be time for the confrontation by the time she got back to the Inn, so Kitsondra decided to head towards the North Gates anyways.

< Message edited by Draycos777 -- 1/3/2015 22:48:38 >
AQ  Post #: 87
1/3/2015 20:46:39   
  Gingkage
Wolf Rider


 Sera had a few errands that needed done before she could look at these new weapons.

Her first stop was to buy more of the oil for her bow. She had enough left for one more application, but didn't like the thought of being out. That errand didn't take long and she was soon on her way to the next order of business.

Movement out of the corner of her eye caused her to look and see Kitsondra. Was the broker still watching her?

Sera narrowed her eyes slightly at that thought and tried to think if she'd made another mistake. She didn't think she had, but there was a reason she didn't trust Kitsondra and her kind. It was impossible to know just what they had gleaned.

"And I can't deny that I ran from the inn as fast as I could the second Kitsondra left the table," she thought to herself. She still hadn't been able to quite shake that feeling that Kitsondra was dangerous. And not in the way she deemed all information brokers as dangerous. She'd been grilled by people before, subtly or otherwise. None of those people had made her feel so much like she was being stared at by some kind of predator. Shaking her head, she continued on her errands. She would have to wait until she left to look at the new type of blade, she decided.

Her second errand was to another store to buy a few more leather ties for her armor. She wasn't quite running low, but she preferred to have a few more than she thought she would need, just in case. On impulse, she also purchased a second bottle of the oil she used on her armor.

Leaving the store, she saw one of the kids from earlier running by. Acting on impulse, she reached out and grabbed her shoulder, effectively stopping her. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out two coins and showed them to the kid.

"If you can deliver a message to Miss Fon, then you can have both of these," she said. She didn't particularly like using kids as messengers. But in this case, it was necessary. "Tell her that Sera says 'thank you' for the information on the new type of knife, but doesn't think it's something she's particularly interested in after all." Repeating it to make sure the girl had it down, she handed the kid the coins and watched her walk off. Hopefully, it would work and Kitsondra would believe it. And even if it didn't, her mother would kill her if she found out that Sera hadn't been polite after being given some information. A simple 'thank you' as much as Sera didn't want to give it to an information broker, was required after being given information that could be helpful.

That done, she did, in fact, visit the blacksmith. But only to purchase a new whetstone that she planned on sending to her father as a birthday present so that the old man knew she was still thinking of him. While there, she did glance at the new type of weapon. Studying how it looked gave her an idea of how it would behave in a combat situation without ever even touching it.

Errands done - for the most part as she still hoped to study these 'kunai' in more detail at a later point in time, she returned to the inn, deciding to stay in her room until dusk after all. Some guaranteed solitude was what her nerves needed after her ordeal this afternoon.

< Message edited by Gingkage -- 1/4/2015 5:12:52 >
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 88
1/3/2015 22:10:55   
Kellehendros
Eternal Wanderer


 The past rained down upon her like the blows of hammers, but Marietta came back to herself a little at a time, putting the pieces together as she had so many times before. She cried quietly, as she always had. Her stoic nature was a blessing here, and while she had been subject to similar emotional breakdowns in the pair of years that she had lived in Blackwater, she had always been able to make it home before losing control. With the door and shutters closed she went unbothered, the home appearing unoccupied to the outside world. The half-elf was afraid that one day she would not be able to make it, breaking down in the middle of the town. What happened at that point would depend entirely upon who came across her. The slings and arrows of their laughter and scorn she could take, it was their pity that she could not, would not, bear.

She had inherited more than keen senses from her mother, for that benefit was offset by the curse of a prodigious memory. The triggers varied, but her memories returned to her as fresh and immediate as the experience itself; their edges sharper than any knife, and undulled by the passage of time. Pain and horror, sorrow and suffering, each memory was graven upon her consciousness indelibly.

But the pain was not all there was. For each horror and agony, she called up a memory of joy and laughter, of hope and, most precious, of love. Marietta opened her eyes slowly. She lay upon her side, curled about the ebony box tightly. Her hands ached from clenching it so tightly, but she managed, with an effort of will, to release the box, lifting a trembling hand to her face and wiping the tears away as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Slowly, she brought her breathing under control, concentrating on each breath, feeling the air pass down into her lungs before being released in a soft, focused stream.

Once that was taken care of the hunter turned, shaking out the burlap sack and carefully depositing the ebony case within it, taking a last look as her finger touched the red wax sealing the latch. Her hand went to her chest, touching the form of the pendant about her neck through the fabric of her shirt and vest. For a moment she debated removing the pendent and returning it to the bag, but at the last she left it on. There was every chance that she could die this night. If that happened, she wanted to die with it on, and should that happen it would not matter what any of them made of the item’s presence. They would never know what it was anyways. Kitsondra might have had an inkling of what the pendant meant, but she had never seen it, and she was just as like to die as Marietta was tonight, if what Toren said was truth. In either event, no one was like to see it, hidden beneath her clothing, unless she fell in the battle.

“Focus upon what is before you. It matters not what came before, or what comes after. The moment is all that you control.” Shaking her head, the hunter slid the box back into its hiding place, replaced the board, and then carefully returned the bed to its original position. Rising, she crossed the small room to the washstand, and then gently and thoroughly washed her face and neck, cleaning away any evidence of her earlier weeping.

She spent the next few hours on simple things, cleaning her home, checking on the pelts hanging in her storage room, examining the fletching on the arrows in her quiver, and adding additional shafts to replace what had been expended during her hunting trip. Afterwards she sat at the table in her main room, her gear laid out and waiting, a single candle burning. Her hands rested on the table, palms down against the surface as she stared into the flickering flame, focusing on it. The exercise was mentally tiring, but it helped. The focused, honed state the hunter found over the course of the exercise allowed her some distance from her emotions, some respite in the aftermath of the storm that had blazed through her a short while ago. They would return, her memories, her pain, but for now she was calm, whole, and able to contemplate what had happened this morning.

The encounter with Turner was unfortunate, but the spread of the story, no doubt in progress, was moreso. How the story might change and grow with retelling… There was nothing she could do about that, in the end. Turner had brought it upon himself, and now they both would be forced to live with the consequences.

This matter with Toren was another thing entirely. She could acknowledge now that she had acted hastily, emotionally. It did not bother her that she had exposed, in some small measure, information about her past to those who could reason the matter out. What bothered her was that she had acted impulsively. In the end, she still would have agreed to help the girl. The hunter had meant what she said to Toren, but making the decision hotly was against her nature. A hunter had to be methodical, careful.

Marietta shook her head, setting those thoughts aside. It made no difference at this point. She was committed, and the manner by which she had accepted could be debated by those who cared. Rising, the half-elf moved through her small house, gathering some items that she would want for tonight.

The first was the shamshir and accompanying sword belt, which she buckled on carefully. She was an indifferent duelist at best, but a sword was of use when a bow could not serve, so it would come.

Second, she hooked a pouch onto her belt containing a few spare arrowheads and bowstrings, along with her sheathed utility dagger. While the arrowheads were of little use, the strings might be needed, and at the last the knife could protect her.

Third was her quiver, shrugged over her shoulder and secured to the back of her chest guard.

Fourth was an old shirt, one that Marietta had put aside for mending due to a tear along the side. Sacrificing the garment for the cause, the half-elf tore it into strips, carefully winding the strips about the heads of her arrows, until she had a full score so enhanced. The wrapped arrows went into a secondary quiver clipped to her belt, and the fingers of her right hand taped the nocks of the arrows lightly as she prepared the fifth item, an old bullseye lantern recently refilled with oil. Removing the top, Marietta disassembled the lantern, revealing the oil reservoir, which she removed and slipped into another pouch.

Finally, she collected her unstrung bow, and took a look about her small home. Nodding, she turned and exited the little shack for what might be the last time, walking towards the northern gate. She was, she saw, the first to arrive. That was to be expected, however, given that it was still several hours until dusk. Ignoring the guards at the gate, and the looks that they cast in her direction, she ascended the wooden stairs to the top of the wall, standing above the gate and staring out into the Darkwald, listening to a voice from past.

“It is in the darkest places that the light shines the brightest. No action, however small, is wasted, if it brings the light into the lives of those around you.”

Marietta smiled faintly, her voice a whisper. “To light a candle, you must first strike a match.”
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 89
1/6/2015 10:53:14   
blankmaskara
Member

The conversation didn't seem to be going anywhere. The mercenary easily deflected Ms. Fon's inquiries and attempts to draw out information, keeping up a facade of cold professionalism about her. Franklin thought it would lead to a standstill at this point, although one of them decided to take a risk.

"...remember body language is key. If we start becoming fidgety, that means either one of two things. They're not telling the whole truth or you've just told them something you shouldn't have and they've become excited that something good has come out of the talk."

This rather long speech escaped Ms. Fon's lips, seemingly a lecture at first. However, as she went on, it became more apparent that it was more than that. It turned out to be a ploy to get under Sera's skin just a bit further and elicit a reaction out of her, and hopefully, some information as well. Although, considering the mercenary's exceptional deflection of her aggressor's inquiries, Franklin wondered whether it would work. Luckily enough, it did.

Just some moments after the speech ended, the mage could've sworn he saw some movement from the mercenary. Maybe the shifting of position, the drumming of fingers, or perhaps even a tiny fidget. Whatever it was, the poison-laced words that would be said next would only support whatever the movement suggested.

"I am intelligent enough to be aware of the importance of body language, yes."

The cold retort escaped Sera's lips tipped with some minuscule amount of venom, and it became apparent that the interrogation had started to draw some tension. The mercenary was starting to show some cracks in her armor, as hinted at by the fidgeting from earlier.

She's already starting to break.. Perhaps, this Ms. Fon is more dangerous than I thought, to be able to push such a hardened warrior this far.

At this point, Franklin expected the broker to press Sera even further. The mercenary was already breaking at the seams, and it wouldn't take much before she would spill whatever she had. But strangely enough, Ms. Fon decided to not pursue the interrogation, despite her obvious advantage. She instead chose to end it there, killing his mood and interest entirely.

Irked, Franklin pushed his now-empty plate away. He could care any less what would happen to those two for the time being. There were more important matters to be attending to, anyways, especially that concerning the Nazha. With an inaudible groan, he rose from his seat and head for the doorway, only for it to reveal the child-and-man pair from some time ago.

The two took a seat down nearby Kenet and the rogue, seemingly wanting to strike up some sort of conversation. Eyebrows folded, turning into an angry slant at the sight. Dusk was approaching, and there was no time to waste for petty conversation. It was far better in Franklin's eyes that they move to the gate, as in that manner there would be more time to prepare and plan. A silent grumble echoed within the halls of his mind as he continued to vent internally. After a few more thoughts, Franklin set off once more, although not without his ears catching the girl ranting about some man's smell. From his travels, he doubted that was the worst scent one could ever encounter, and could even be considered tame at that. She had no idea, and so Franklin set it upon himself to give a piece of his own mind.

"Before you continue raving with that blasted mouth of yours, child, I do suggest you keep in mind that you are insulting the very people who volunteered--for free--to save your own sorry hide. And, if I may add, you don't look any better off than that man yourself," the mage barked, voice laced with anger and poison.

Satisfied, Franklin pulled his head out of the doorway, slamming it just a few seconds after and limping off towards the meeting spot. His rucksack jangled with the sound of numerous objects remaining slung across his back, while his wooden staff angrily stabbed the cobblestone path. His hands ached for some blood and flames, and he hoped the battle ahead would satisfy that urge, especially with his sour mood.

< Message edited by blankmaskara -- 1/6/2015 11:01:08 >
Post #: 90
1/6/2015 23:21:27   
Riprose123
Member

“Maria, you have the pleasure to speak with Heinrich, a witch hunter from the north. As magic detects magic, he noticed Kitsondra. Too bad he seems to be a little too… narrow-minded. I wouldn’t go about shooting stakes into creatures that are working to defend this town, a little detail that he would know if he bothered to observe his surroundings before becoming intent on taking another’s life.”

Maria was quite surprised to here another voice, accompanied by odd music, strange for an outdoor setting such as this. She was part way through eyeing this person, who looked female, but who her gut told her was more than met the eye, when a large crack sounded. Maria gave a small squeak of surprise as the large man who did not speak common very well fell, the branch snapping beneath him, and at an extent, her as well. She slipped her hand around the branch that she leaned against, trying to resist falling from such a height. Her calloused hands tore themselves on the rough bark, but she hardly noticed, years of flaming fists numbing any minor inconvenience small pains may cause. She swung a few times, before dismounting, preforming a graceful flip to get her bearings, landing lightly on her feet, arms extended slightly to reaffirm her balance. She looked to the new arrival, scratching her chin thoughtfully, her demeanor a little more reserved than it had been when dealing with Heinrich. The woman seemed normal enough, as she conversed with Heinrich in a tongue that was unfamiliar to Maria, even if she spoke a few languages and had traveled far. There was something off about her, not unpleasant or concerning, but oddly, well, off. Maria's gut told her this, and she knew to follow her gut. Stepping forward, then back a step, before taking two more, her toes touching the ground, much like a dancer leaps and bounds, she approached the pair, leaning forward and staring up at the odd girl.

"Who are you?" She asked softly, more to herself than anyone. Not taking her eyes off the girl, she approached Heinrich in much the same manner, a little more timid than she was, in the hopes of correcting any connection she may have formed. She out stretched her hand out warily, eyes a reclusive, nondescript brown meeting his own, saying, "I'm sorry for using big words. I didn't know this wasn't your primary language. I'm Maria."
DF MQ  Post #: 91
1/7/2015 22:48:40   
Tdub
Member

Lock was very much aware of how in over his head he was. For starters, he was in a strange place with no idea how to interact with any of its inhabitants (although the woman called Sera had offered him a seat, which he gratefully accepted.) Furthermore, he had gotten himself tied up in a fight that seemed doomed from the start. Thirdly, he was moments away from sitting at a table with two women who seemed to be attempting to murder one another with cold stares and icy words, although he was not yet aware of this upcoming threat. And, finally, he realized he was still wearing a woman's coat.

Hastily, Lock removed the garment, letting it fall to the back of his chair. His reply came from the man called Kenet in a surprisingly warm tone. "Well, Master Thief, I've never turned down an opportunity to exchange actions for information. I don't have money to pay you, but I'm sure I can do something to help you with whatever problems you may have. However, I feel I should inform you that I've already proposed a similar arrangement with Ms Fon-"

At this time, the third woe of the moment began, with "Ms. Fon" approaching the table. She inquired about Lock's knives before seeming to lose all interest in them, turning to fight Sera in a battle of words. This was fortunate for her, as, in all honesty, Lock had no intention of answering the question. Castor and Pollux were the only objects Lock had to remember his father by. To divulge their secrets would be like giving up a part of him, a sacrifice he was not willing to make to this stranger.

Anyway, the matter at hand was more pressing. He had never expected to get this far in a conversation, and he was struggling to put the words together in his mind. He often went months without speaking, and had not had this many words spoken to him since his father died. The problem was made worse by the arrival of children, followed by the departure of both Kitsondra and Sera, leaving him and Kenet alone. Just when Lock had decided what he was going to say, they were approached by the last person he wanted to be present.

"Hello again, friends," Toren exclaimed, joining them at the table alongside a young girl. This made matters very complicated. Lock had been intending to ask for Kenet to make a distraction, something to buy precious moments in order to allow for escape. However, with Toren present, he did not feel comfortable asking for such a thing. Instead, Lock had to improvise.

Just then, the girl shrieked, and began babbling about a stench. At first, Lock assumed they were aimed at him. Living in the forest gives one a particular scent, not one that can be washed off easily. Lock didn't bathe often, but every few weeks he would collect rainwater in a hollowed rock and scrub the dirt from his skin, as dipping in any body of water in Darkwald could mean far worse than a funny smell. However, it soon became apparent that the comments were directed at Kenet. Lock's hadn't noticed the smell, but he supposed that was only because he didn't smell much better. Still, the girl was irritating, and Lock resolved to put an end to it.

"If you expect him to bathe in the freezing rain, you expect him to die, girl. Some people happen to have very good reasons for their odors, and anyone who criticizes someone's traits without learning the past and their trials ought to be ashamed of themselves." The last bit was something his father always said, and it felt like it was the right thing to say. Turning back to Kenet, Lock hastily scramble to revise his offer.

"I have no interest in money. I'll tell you about the forest, wanderer, if you'll...." At this point, Lock hesitated, glancing briefly at Toren, then deciding what he would request. "Have my back. I'm a man with two knives and no special skills. I'm dead against the Nazha. Swear you'll do your best to assist me in any fight with them we may have, and I'll divulge some if Darkwald's secrets."

"And don't call me a thief. It's not a habit and I'm in no way a Master at it, so leave it be. You can call me Lock."
Post #: 92
1/9/2015 8:18:10   
Zephyrial
Member

To Kenet's relief, it seemed that the thief did indeed possess the sense not to reveal the conflict of interests. In fact, he didn't say a word throughout the whole of the rest of the exchange, even when addressed directly by Kitsondra - but it was beyond Kenet's skill to determine whether it was due to general reticence, or fear of the violet-haired sneak. For her part, Kitsondra continued to hound Sera, firing off constant probing questions and calculated remarks. It didn't take much awareness to see that there was some serious history between the two of them, bordering on outright hostility. With practiced nonchalance, she slunk out of the room, shortly followed by Sera, who skittered off without a parting word. Utterly ignored by the two women, Kenet observed their dance with some amusement, leaning back in his chair and enjoying the feeling of not, for once, being the centre of attention.

Those two are fighting like cats with a grudge. They're going to come to blows before long, I fear! Hopefully they'll keep their differences out of mind when fighting the Nazha...!

His good feeling did not last. No sooner had Toren and his young companion joined the group when the girl, displaying a child's frankness, began a loud, mildly offensive tirade on his appearance. It was a spiel he had heard a thousand times, from children and adults alike, and he was quite used to it by now. Much though he disliked it, marring his skin was still the easiest way to avoid unwanted attention - he had previously experimented with heavy hooded clothing, but found that it was more trouble than it was worth when the guards came around. With an inward sigh, Kenet prepared to politely excuse himself. Then, to his surprise, two voices rang out his defence. The first was that of the atrophied wizard he had briefly seen during Toren's speech, who spat a retort - quite vicious - at the girl before leaving in a black mood. Then, the thief. To Kenet's surprise, he displayed a surfeit of restraint and decorum, before presenting Kenet with a simple offer - information for protection.

I suppose I spoke too soon... Perhaps this man will be a more worthy friend than I had thought!

Mildly amused, Kenet nevertheless felt the need to defuse the situation. "Peace, friends," he murmured, "she's only a child. Thank you for your kind words, though." He turned towards the girl and flashed her a quick smile."Don't worry about them, Miss. Just remember, there's inside dirt, and outside dirt. Just because a person has one, doesn't necessarily mean they have the other, and vice versa. Appearances can be deceiving!"

Turning now to Lock, he extended his hand and, after a moment's hesitation, lightly rested it on the other man's shoulder. "That I can do, Lock. Don't worry, I'll keep a close eye on you. Then, after this is all over, we can talk. Get some rest - we'll need to be fit and ready when the time for fighting comes."

"Toren... I'll see you at the Northern gates. We shall see if these Nazha are as terrible as you say!"

< Message edited by Zephyrial -- 1/9/2015 8:19:54 >
Post #: 93
1/9/2015 13:36:48   
Master K
Member

Marcelline lost herself within her book once again.

She awoke from her knowledge to realize she had a place to be. She promised herself-actually, the first one to promise-to fight against the Nazha that Toren had spoken of. Packing up her belongings once more, she exited her room, and descended down the stairs once more. She came upon a group, who were deeply enthralled in conversation. She stood at a distance, and merely observed.

Among them was Toren and the girl he had in tow, Lily. She had fired off some rude gesture regarding the vagabond wanderer's scent. Soon enough many people reacted in a variety of manner to her insult, some trying to politely scold her, and others simply tore into her with all the malice they could muster. Marcelline, appalled by everyone's petty bickering, stood her distance, lest she get entangled within it.

After a few of them cleared out, she approached the table quietly.

"I couldn't help but to overhear your conversations." She said to nobody in particular. Then she turned to Lily.

"That was an awfully rude gesture to that wanderer. I'm sure you've heard enough of it from everyone else, however. Despite that, I certainly don't approve of other peoples...frankness either. You're merely a child saying the first thing to mind, but that mage...the one in the tan cloak and disheveled appearance...who does he think he is? Firing off his mouth and throwing insults...the hard headed arrogance..."

She then looked away slightly.

"Why did I ever join this group? If not for the danger and the plea, I would certainly not associate myself with most of these travelers. They're all so...rough around the edges. I'm certainly not like them...being much more delicate in mannerism and unique in appearance."

She then looked back up to face Toren.

"But whatever the matter, I won't shy away from the duty I promised to fulfill. I'll try not to fail or be a burden to the rest. I'm off to the meeting point."

With those words, she departed from the Inn. Her next destination, the Northern Gate.

"May the divines have mercy on all of us..."
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 94
1/15/2015 3:43:27   
Legendium
Member

“I believe we haven’t, my friend. I never visited Friesland, either. Your native land has never interested me much, its songs are.. cold. Like they could freeze the strings of my guitar. That, and I don’t like being around people that destroy magic for a living.”

Heinrich was about to clarify that the Order of the Magus did not destroy just any magic; until he realized she knew this without having ever been to Friesland. Stunned by this fact, Heinrich was at a loss for words as the spirit babbled on.

“It would be rude to leave you in the dark about what I said earlier. I called you narrow-minded: you should have noted the fact that Kitsondra doesn’t endanger this town, but rather protects it. A little detail you’d know if you spent some time observing the area instead of agreeing with Sorlan to immediately take her life. Don’t become worse than those you claim to save the world from, witch hunter.”

Now Heinrich was even more bewildered. How did she know of his involvement with this when she hadn't been present during his conversation with Sorlan? Moreover, how did she know his name, having never been in Friesland? And how did she speak the language then? All these questions buzzed through Heinrich's mind until it was efficiently answered in the spirit's next retort.

"I thought I smelled of something nicer than tarnished silver."

Heinrich's nostrils flared. A mind-reader. He had half a mind to spit at her feet. He hated their types. There were several in the Order, who would annoyingly finish your own sentences before you did yourself, or rat on you for some tiny little break of a rule. He tolerated them, but he certainly didn't like them.

Eyebrows narrowing, he answered.

"Narrow-minded? As far as I have known, vampires are just as bad as demons. They were made to take the lives of innocents, they cannot live without human blood. The only way that vampire could be helping this town would be by killing off human invaders, which are obviously not present.
Oh, I've heard the tales, of cannibalistic vampires, vegetarian vampires, or blood-less vampires, but those are fairy tales. As far as I'm concerned, any blood sucker deserves a swift disposal."

"However, I'll hear you out. I would have you know that I hate your type of magic almost more than the true evil ones, but I assume you already know that. If you say this… Kitsondra doesn't endanger the town, I suppose I would have to believe you."

Dusk was falling as Heinrich looked through the leaves to the sky.

"I'll want a proper explanation sooner or later, but for now, there are bigger fish to fry. With the problem of a potential vampire attack resolved, there remains another threat to this village and my family. These… Nazha, or whatever that man called them."

"Who are you?"

Maria had recovered from the fall and joined the conversation. Turning to Heinrich, she offered her hand again. This time Heinrich could shake it without being interrupted.

"I'm sorry for using big words. I didn't know this wasn't your primary language. I'm Maria."

"Kein Problem. Ist not problem." Pointing to the sky to indicate the time of day and then to northern gates where the others were already gathering, he said

"Da ist problem."
DF MQ Epic  Post #: 95
1/18/2015 11:39:08   
TJByrum
Member

Dusk...

"Master, I've gathered the others, we're ready." A hunched over figure shrouded in a shadowy, tattered cloak approached his master from behind. Nine other figures, mounted atop their own similar black steeds and shrouded in the same cloak, came into the small clearing.

"So are they," the Master replied. He observed in the distance a small militia force gathered on the rampart of the northern gate. He could sense another group of individuals behind the gate. They were defenders, some of them magical, some of them not. His black steed neighed as the sun retreated below the horizon. Only a tinge of orange remained in the dark evening sky. The chilled winds howled through the gnarled branches of the dark forest and a slight drizzle teased the coming rainstorm. "Kerall and his band are not the priority. Break them if you must, but our goal is the girl. Retrieve her and bring her to the ritual site."

The other nine riders and the hunched figure replied in their dark, hideous, hissing voices: "yes, Master."

"Jugar, nul valar!"

A storm of galloping horses burst from the forest, riding hard for the gates. The ten riders formed a triangular formation, drawing their wicked weapons and unleashing a shrieking yell that would surely demoralize the defenders.

Atop the ramparts Toren watched as the riders closed in on the gates. "They're here," he called out to his allies. "Prepare yourselves, and may the Gods have mercy on your soul." Toren drew his blade and turned to the guards behind the gates, "open the gates and engage the enemy." At his order the guards down below pulled the gates open. Those down below could now see the charging Nazha.

Toren ran towards the end of the rampart and flipped off, landing on his feet and charging towards the middle Nazha. "Wot? Is he crazy," one of the guards said to another.

Closer, closer, closer. The galloping horse steps drew closer and closer to the warrior, sword drawn. Toren could feel his power rush through his body. His eyes began to turn purple, red veins spreading through them. His skin paled and you could almost see his arteries and veins beneath. His darkened sword began to glow with an unworldly purple aura. His speed became unmatched, fueled by some dark power, and his muscles bulged with a new-found strength. The Master, who rode in the middle of the formation, leaped from his horse and flipped in the air towards Toren. Both warriors met face to face, locking blades as their eyes met. "Kerall! There will be no more running for you this time! Your betrayal will be met with execution!"

The hunched Nazha stood in the distance, surveying the battle; the Master was locked in combat with Toren; the other nine riders converged together, still riding hard for the gates. The guards and volunteers tried firing on them but the speed of their steeds outran the missiles. As soon as they were within range of the walls they leaped from the steeds and atop the walls, within the gates, and in the streets! Their immediate attention was focused on the defenders, although a pair of them rushed off towards the inn!


Within the Hallows Inn...

Lily watched from the top floor of the inn as the Nazha burst from the forest. Toren flung himself from the ramparts and met them head-on. She watched as the two combatants swung at each other, neither one gaining any ground on each other. The other nine riders converged on the walls and leaped from the steeds, landing within the very town itself and attacking the defenders. Two of them, however, made their way to the inn. "Not good," Lily exclaimed.
DF AQW  Post #: 96
1/18/2015 14:37:44   
Draycos777
Member

Kitsondra was the second to arrive at the Northern gates. Marietta seem to have arrived at the gates much longer then the appointed time, as she was sitting there looking at the horizon by the time Kitsondra showed up. Upon reaching the foot of the gates, Kitsondra could sense the magical presence of a group, just outside the forest. They smelt like the deepest parts of the forest itself, yet at the same time overpowered the forest.

"I supposed that a testament to the strength Toren said that they possessed. I wonder just how this fight will play out. Either way, I've no intention of dieing just yet."

As Toren and the rest of the group began to arrive, Kitsondra made her way to the back. Drawing up magic she casted a spell on herself, and then on Marcelline without the girl noticing.

Toren climbed the ramparts as the rest of the group waited down below, however, they wouldn't be waiting for long. Minutes later and Kitsondra heard him shout at the guards to open the gates. Like a stage certain, the opened gates showed a scene of horsemen charging at the town. Some of group shoot at them only to miss with the speed of the Nazha's black steeds.

"Impressive appearance at least." Kitsondra thought, if their sword skills are as good as their horse's running strength then they might have a little trouble fighting them off. She was soon distracted by something that the middle Nazha said.

As Toren leap from the ramparts and engaged in combat with the Nazha in the middle of the horsemen, obviously they're leader, his body began to change rapidly and the magic in his blood began to smell more and more like that of the Nazha. It was then as they locked swords that the Nazha leader said something very interesting.

"Kerall! There will be no more running for you this time! Your betrayal will be met with execution!"

"Betrayal? As in he was once one of them?" Kitsondra was confirmed in her belief that Toren wasn't telling the whole story back then. "Hoh? If he lives through his duel, then I'll have to ask him about that later."

More press matters were happening at the moment though. The nine hooded figures had entered the streets and were head to the rag-tag group. Still in the back, Kitsondra saw two of the Nazha break of and head towards the Inn and to the girl. Kitsondra wasn't sure if her magic would work on ones who already knew what kind of magic she would use, but it was better then nothing. Drawing up magic in her hands and starting a magical sequence, Kitsondra clapped her hands together and thrust her left arm out in the direction of the Inn.

"Where are you two going in such a hurry? You should be careful or you might fall."

As the word 'fall' leave Kitsondra's mouth, an abyssal chasm opened up around the Inn. The Stone river dropped and fell into nothingness as a seeming bottomless mouth took in it. Strong winds flowed out from the great hole. Although the Nazha knew Kitsondra would use Illusion magic their bodies still forced them to stop from the 'supposed' danger.

"So they stopped after all." Kitsondra grinned. "That means that even though they know how we'll fight, they don't know the strength or the tactics in how we'll fight. Thing just got a little bit easier for this little group then, huh?"

Using a bit of her vampiric powers, Kitsondra closed the gap the formed between her and the two Nazha. "If you want the girl then you must defeat us first. That's how it goes is it not? DOn't get to greedy now, I'll be your opponent."

With that, Kitsondra used her speed to reach for the sword of the Nazha on her left.
AQ  Post #: 97
1/18/2015 15:08:56   
  Gingkage
Wolf Rider


 Sera arrived at the gates about an hour before the appointed time. She used the time available to quickly run down everything she had on her, making sure she wasn't forgetting anything.

"I'm as prepared as I can be," she decided, settling down comfortably to wait. The air was charged around her, though whether that was the result of magic or simply her imagination running wild with the knowledge that something would happen, she couldn't say. Taking a deep breath, she ignored the almost electric energy and made herself as comfortable as she could. There was no point stressing herself out before anything happened.

And happen it did.

Horses burst through the open gates, and self-preservation of 'I don't want to be trampled!' kicked in, having her roll out of the way from crazy people leaping off of walls, sword being drawn as she went from the roll into a standing position.

There was shouting, but years of fighting automatically tuned it out as background noise. Shouting meant thinking. And thinking meant you were slower, if only a fraction.

Most of the riders stayed near. But two of them went for the inn.

"Lily. They're going after the girl." That, Sera could not allow. She would never be able to outpace a horse, but she was fast. If they made the inn, they wouldn't be far ahead of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kitsondra raise her hands, presumably to work some sort of magic.

That didn't prepare her for the ground opening up in front of her. Digging her heels in, she skidded to a stop. Then her mind caught up with her.

"Queen of Illusions. That's what people called her, wasn't it?" Kicking a nearby rock, she saw it skid along the ground - across the seeming abyss. That allowed her to breath more easily. Shaking her head, she ran the rest of the way to where the Nazha were, taking a stance along side Kitsondra. Whether or not she liked the woman was irrelevant. She had accepted a contract. Kitsondra had accepted that same contract. When that happened, all personal feelings about who you were working with were put aside.

"According to Toren, they know what I'm going to do, anyway," she thought as she raised her sword into a readied position. "But dad taught me that sword fights were as much a dance as a battle. So let's see which of us knows this dance better."

Moving with all the grace, speed, and skill her father had drilled into her, she locked blades with one of the Nazha.

< Message edited by Gingkage -- 1/18/2015 16:12:55 >
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 98
1/18/2015 16:32:34   
Master K
Member

The Nazha.

Dreadful, dreadful looking creatures. Far more outlandish than Marcelline could imagine. When she was a child, she grew up on things such as fairy tales, and old myths of what lurked in Darkwald. None of them prepared her for the sight of the Nazha. Despite being real, the entire situation felt almost surreal in nature. It gave her thoughts back to the ashen forest that Istarelle had crafted for her. However, it wasn't the time or place to dwell upon other far off problems.

She had stood amongst the group, waiting for them. Now, here they were, on the very doorstep of Blackwater. As soon as they had gotten near, they propelled themselves over the walls to make their presence very known. Toren had suddenly revealed himself as being a betrayer of the Nazha, and had grown into a new, muscular form. What he was doing with Lily, and whatever they wanted with her was rattling in the back of Marcelline's mind.

Two of the Nazha bolted to the inn, most likely for Lily. However, Marcelline noticed Kitsondra and Sera dash off to attend to them. Kitsondra weaved a magnificent spectacle of an abyss. Although not inherently real, it still provoked a reaction of the Nazha to stop.

"Illusions are far from weak..." Marcelline thought.

Now, here she was, in the middle of what erupted into a battlefield. She didn't have much to offer, but she made a little plan. First, she set her catalyst alight, and held it high in the air. She hoped that her incandescence would draw attention to herself, as well as the ringing of the multiple bells. After a while of doing so, she began to ignite the Witchtree Branch. The silver began to heat up slightly, and the bells attached soon started glowing along with it.

Within an instant, she gracefully brought her branch down, did did a wide arcing slash, sending a few fireballs towards the nearest of the Nazha. This was going to be an interesting battle, but Marcelline had to prove herself that she was able to survive and fulfill her duty to Toren and Lily, as well as the others.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 99
1/18/2015 17:39:57   
Kellehendros
Eternal Wanderer


 Marietta stared out into the forest for a while. There was nothing to see, beyond the boles and leaves of the trees pressing close about the town, but it was soothing somehow. The hunter knew that forest. Not all of it, by any stretch, but she knew it, and there was something comforting about that. That comfort was soured by the knowledge that somewhere out there the Nazha were hidden; shadowy figures who meant to steal a little girl for some black purpose.

Galvanized by that knowledge, the half-elf turned away from her contemplations of the arboreal scenery, and moved down the stairs to the ground again. She continued to ignore the guards, who had given up on having a conversation with her after a few minutes of awkward attempts. Moving on, she came upon the well set next to the gate, and the pail waiting upon its rim. Drawing the utility knife from her belt, she slashed through the rope connecting the pail to the crank used to raise and lower it into the well.

“Hey now, what do you think you’re doing, Marietta? You can’t just-”

The hunter shot the guard, Wicke, a glare sharp enough to rock him back a step. “I need it more than you do at the moment, and I’ll put it back when I’m done.” With that, she remounted the stairs, moving back up to the top of the gate. Putting the pail down, she produced the flask of oil from her pouch, opening it and pouring in the contents. That accomplished, she drew the bundle of rag-wrapped arrows from the quiver at her side, dropping them into the pail to soak up the oil.

And then she waited, watching the forest in meditative silence broken only briefly by a quiet acknowledgement of the guard lighting the torches over the gate. Kitsondra arrived, first of the other defenders. For a moment Marietta considered saying something to the woman. The half-elf generally avoided the information broker, but if ever there was a time to extend an olive branch, it was now, before they were thrust into a battle that they may not survive. In the end, however, the hunter said nothing, continuing her silent wait. Kitsondra seemed content with the silence, and Marietta felt no need to break the quiet herself.

As the sun slipped down towards the horizon, Marietta stirred from her repose, reaching out and lifting the bowstave leaning against the wall before her. Her other hand opened the pouch at her waist, drawing out a string. Slipping the loop over the bottom arm of the bow, Marietta stepped through the stave. It was not a hunter’s tool, but rather, a full-sized warbow, the stave easily taller than she was when unstrung. She ran her hand up the stave gently, and then proceeded to string the bow, using a twist of her hips and the wiry strength of her slender frame to accomplish the feat.

Reaching up and over her shoulder, Marietta drew an arrow from her quiver, carefully placing the nock against the string. Her timing was good, because it was then that the Nazha arrived. A flying wedge of black-clad horsemen thundered from the forest on their hellish steeds. Their screams were high and keening, the sound of blades scraping over glass.

And by the Lords they were fast. Marietta held her fire and watched several of the guards fire bows, the arrows flashing out to clatter uselessly against the packed dirt as the Nazha burst forward quicker than belief. Toren flashed past her, flinging himself from the ramparts like a madman, even as the gate creaked open. Opening the gate seemed foolish to the hunter, as crazy as leaping from the gate, but Toren seemed unharmed on his landing, and the Nazha apparently were not to be inconvenienced by Blackwater’s walls.

The black-cloaked figures hurled themselves from their saddles, ascending in fantastic arcs up and over the wall like ragged carrion birds. The half-elf smiled wolfishly, letting the arrow fall from her hand and drawing one of the oil-soaked arrows from the pail next to her. Flicking her wrist, Marietta flashed the head of the arrow through the flames, which leapt to life upon the waiting tinder. Nocking swiftly, the hunter drew, watching the descending forms of the Nazha as she grinned, a feral, tooth-flashing expression.

It did not matter how fast the Nazha were. It did not matter how strong the Nazha were. Once they left the ground, they were subject to the same rules as everyone else was. You could go up, but eventually you had to come down, even if you were a bird. And in the air, there was no way for the Nazha to change their momentum or direction. That meant their falls were predictable.

Hitting what you were aiming at was the hardest part of archery, while the second hardest was knowing where your target was going to be. The first problem could be solved only through the endless grinding hours of practice, making hand and eye and bow operate as one. Thankfully, the Nazha and provided Marietta with the solution to the second issue.

The feathers of her arrow brushed over the angle of her jaw as Marietta held the heavy draw of the warbow, her eyes tracking the descending forms. Fire danced at the end of the arrow, caressing the bowstave once, twice, thrice. There. Her bow spoke, a deep thrum as the arrow leapt from the string, flame flashing as the arrow sped upon its way, aimed to smash into one of the Nazha as the monstrous creature landed. Marietta’s hand was already in motion, flickering down to the pail next to her to snatch up another shaft.
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 100
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