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RE: The Hallows Inn

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12/25/2014 11:14:19   
TJByrum
Member

The bounty hunter, Sera, interrupted Toren in the middle of his moment. He glared at the woman as she spoke, threatening him with her throwing knife. Arrogant fool... I like arrogant fools, he thought. Sera was strong, impulsive, and demanding, something Toren admired; it was these types of people Toren believed made the best fighters. Whoever Sera was, she made it evident she had no ties in the village. "I'm not forcing you to aid me, foolish woman," Toren said to her harshly, "I'm only giving you the opportunity to become more than a mere bounty hunter. You could become something greater... why would anyone hire a bounty hunter when they could hire Sera Blackwell: Slayer of the Nazha." Toren let the words sink in for a moment. "Don't begin to question my methods, and don't try and play the morally superior hero, because there are things happening that are bigger than you - bigger than any of us. You have the opportunity to stop what is about to happen, and you want to play this game? I have nothing to offer you bounty hunter; nothing more to say. You're either with me, or you're not. Make your choice."

Toren could barely hold back his urge to release a mental blast against the woman, but he knew he'd risk blowing his cover. These people didn't need to know who - or what he was. He was content with being Toren the Warrior.



"Neigh!"

The pitch black horse cried out in the early morning rainstorm as it reared back. Its rider was undisturbed, perched atop a hill, completely focused on what lie in the distance: Blackwater. His tattered black cloak, enveloping his entire body, dripped with water. "Ugrul!" The rider's voice was deep, dark, and foreboding.

At his command another rider trotted up the hill from below. "Master?" In stark contrast, the similarly-dressed being spoke in a sharp, shrill voice.

"Kerall hides within the town, I can feel him."

"And the girl?"

"I can feel her tender skin as well. And... Kenet? Kenet is within the village."

A streak of lightning lit up the sky, causing the horses to neigh once again. It was not fear that drove them to perform such actions, but the heed of their masters calling echoing within the very storm itself. The sharp-voiced rider then asked "shall we attack them now?"

"No," the Master replied quickly, observing the morning sun. "We must wait until nightfall. Surprise attack - ambush. Have Nazhul prepare the ritual. We gather at dusk... and Blackwater burns.

"Of course, Master..."
DF AQW  Post #: 26
12/25/2014 13:10:21   
  Gingkage
Wolf Rider


 Sera returned the glare in equal ferocity, not the least bit cowed by him.

"Not forcing me to aid him. Ha! As if anyone could force me to do anything," she thought, not without a touch of arrogance. For ten years she had been a bounty hunter. Eight of those she had been almost entirely alone. She was no 'mere' bounty hunter. Suddenly that place between his eyes, the place that her knives would fit so perfectly, became so very, very tempting, and her hand practically itched to release her blade.

But even the most fiery tempered people never achieved anything by giving in to every demand of said temper. And she had fabulous self-control. Beyond her hand tightening almost imperceptibly on her throwing knife, she gave no visible reaction to his speech.

"You assume you are even in the same league as I in this game," she replied to his outraged remark that she was playing some sort of game. "I already know that I'm not morally superior to you. I'm not morally anything to anyone. I am who and what I am, and if you don't like it, that's not my problem. I'm simply not as heartless as you seem to feel." Every word was bitten out, more snarled than spoken.

She couldn't recall the last time anyone had made her so infuriated. She was almost surprised at herself. Bloodlust was not common to her and she usually prided herself on keeping a level head. But this man seemed to have the unique ability to completely get under her skin and aggravate her like no one before had.

"You're either with me, or you're not. Make your choice." That could only be perceived as a challenge. And while Sera enjoyed the challenges that her job saw fit to bring her, she did not appreciate being challenged by this arrogant man.

She knew her skills. She knew she had slain many dangerous and fearsome beasts in her time. Why should the chance to add 'Nazha' - creatures she had never even heard of - to the list of those she had slain entice her to join? It didn't. She had no reason to join him in his quest whatsoever.

For a heartbeat, nothing was said. She didn't so much as blink an eye. One heartbeat became two. Two became five. Then with a flick of her wrist, her blade flew.

Up into the air, to land vertically into a well-practiced hand, and the silence was shattered by an amused laugh as the blade was replaced onto her person.

"You've given me no reason to join you, warrior," Sera finally said. "But brazen gall such as yours is admirable, and should be rewarded in some form. Very well, then. Until either these 'Nazha' or myself fall, my skills are at your service."

< Message edited by Gingkage -- 12/25/2014 13:14:20 >
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 27
12/25/2014 14:58:45   
Draycos777
Member

When the Red Lady came down the stairs, most people giver her their attention. Kitsondra, however, didn't even bother to get up from her nap. It was the same thing for the last ten years now. Nothing had changed, so why bother looking up? The faces that newcomers made were. In essence, all the same after all is said and done. To be honest, she didn't really care for the Red Lady at all. It wasn't any fault of the Lady, she just didn't like the fact that the Red Lady could see your past and future. Well, Kitsondra had no reason to hurt or despise the lady in red and as long as she kept her mouth shut about Kitsondra's past it would stay that way. So far she had no problems doing that. Truth be told they were unspoken business partners. When someone asked the Red Lady for the mundane or supernatural, she would point them in Kitsondra's direction; likewise when one asks Kitsondra about something....beyond natural logic, she would point them to the Red Lady.

It was then that Kitsondra had and uninvited, but more then welcomed guest at her table. The young witch Marcelline had sought her out, longing to know more. Kitsondra smiled, although her head was still down so no one saw this. Now that the child had taken up her bait, she only need to lead her into the trap.

“Soon enou-”

Kitsondra's thought was broken by the speech of some fool man who, if his words were truth, led some undefeated enemy to Darkwater. She frowned to herself as Marcelline jumped to this man's call to arms. Sighing to herself, Kitsondra shook her head.

“It's true she has potential, however, I'm still going to have to train her method of thinking thing through first and foremost.”

Sitting upright, Kitsondra spotted another presence. Marietta, the half-elf, ever the loner, sat in a corner next to the fire with a cup of tea scanning the scene that was unfolding. Looking closely at her, she looked like the rain did a number on the poor half-elf and her forehead had wrinkles that said her had bumped into another one of her suitors. Kitsondra laughed to herself while tracing the rim of her own tea mug that a wench had left her, along with the food she had ordered.

Kitsondra remembered the last time she had tried getting information out of her. It was two years ago and the half-elf had ran out of the Inn after talking to the Red Lady. Kitsondra, being the information broker that she is, felt that something interesting was behind what just took place. Following the half-elf back to a little house at the end of town. Peeking through the window to see if she could spot the elf inside. Moments later and a rather large object whizzed passed making her drop the bag of fresh-cookies Kitsondra had bought along the way to convince the elf to open up and talk to her. Kitsondra left her alone since then. While she was sure it was just bad timing on her part, Kitsondra wasn't about to confirm whether or not the elf was in the right state of mind or not. Having something hit you in the face hurt no matter if you're a human or vampire. The next day she had learned that the elf had trouble with suitors and she was sure that the cookies that she had left on the ground by the window didn't help.

“Oh, well.” Kitsondra thought to herself. “Until they make themselves known, there are somethings that should stay in the past.”

After a moment of back and forth between Sera and the man, that looked like it might end with the man's death, the argument ended somewhat peacefully.

“Well now, since everyone has calmed back down, let's try to keep any further discussions from becoming a bloodbath shall we?”

Kitsondra turned her attention to the armored man, her gaze as ice cold as she could make it.

“I don't mind you coming here and asking the people for help in whatever mess you got yourself into, however I'll ask that you not speak of higher morals considering your own situation. Nor will you speak rudely to the very people that you yourself are asking help from. I have no problem having you and your companion kicked out of town and back into the rain. So if I were you, I'd check my mouth before I let it run again.”

This threat was both a bluff and not at the same time. There are only three people in Blackwater with more influence then the mayor. One was Sloan, the other was the Red Lady and last was Kitsondra herself. Know as being one of the best sources of information, Kitsondra had almost half the town in some kind of debt to her. Kitsondra learned early that it was best for one to owe her, then for them to pay her off up front. Besides she had enough saving from her former life to allow her to hold off a payment or two in favor of a debt to her. The mayor was one of this debts as well, and while Kitsondra knew she couldn't fight this man head on without showing everyone that she was a vampire she could just as easily call on her debts to have him thrown out of town for one reason or another.

Sera was a different story, she was almost a town resident and Kitsondra held some respect for her. While she doubted that she lose to Sera in a fight, Kitsondra watched as over the years Sera came in Hollows Inn as a rookie and now was another person Kitsondra couldn't fight without her full vampiric powers.

“Sera has been apart of this Inn for the last eight years, I at least say I respect her as a person unlike you who I've know for only the past three hours.”

Putting her hands together, Kitsondra leaned forward. “Well, then now that that's out of the way, let's talk business.” Sitting back again Kitsondra used her right hand as a head rest. “Before I agree on any thing, there are some gaps in your information. You said you've fought them but gave no background on their skills. You said you saw their face, but gave us no figure to picture in our minds. You say you know why they're after you, but gave us no backstory. What I want to know are the facts. Details, information, knowledge; I want to know as much as possible. Don't assume that help ever comes free of charge. I have no interest of helping if I'm to be left in the dark. That much is fair, right?”

Kitsondra then turned to Marcelline and smiled.

“In this world, especially in the world of magic, knowledge is power. Remember this, the more knowledge you have the more influence you have. Come with me to my room after this, I wish to show you exactly what I mean by this. Maybe you'll find answers to your own questions.”


< Message edited by Draycos777 -- 12/28/2014 1:25:19 >
AQ  Post #: 28
12/26/2014 10:49:26   
blankmaskara
Member

"Hey, you o'er there! State your business!"

Countless hours had passed since he made his way through the Darkwald Forest, with a tiny flame of pure, ink-black darkness dancing in the middle of his bony palm as eyes darted back and forth, watching his surroundings. Yet, in the span of that time, while he remained observant, a portion of his thoughts were lost to dreams of things made right. Where all goals and hopes were achieved.

Well, his goals and hopes anyways (which, unsurprisingly, entailed an unnecessary amount of fire, laughter, and blood).

Flame quickly put out, a pair of crimson red eyes peeked out of the hood the traveler had drawn over his face and answered, voice seemingly hoarse and weak,

"Just a weary man trying to find his way through this accursed place. I suppose this is the town of Blackwater, isn't it?"

A moment of silence came after this, the guard remaining unsure regarding this particular visitor. Suspicion hung in the air, yet the man chose to keep his mouth shut. Dark energies started to well up hidden within the stranger's palms amidst the tension, preparing for a diversionary bolt of shadowflame to be thrown at the guards and a cloak of midnight to be drawn over himself as he sank back into the shadows. However, thankfully enough, the guard let up.

"Alright, men, let 'im through!"

The thick-set doors groaned loudly as they opened, and the traveler limped his way through, leaning onto his stave for support. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he went past the guards and deeper into the town. That encounter was too close for comfort, and despite the deep-seated anger he held that so craved for blood and violence, he doubted anyways he would get out of such a situation quickly enough.

Now that I'm done with that, it would be best to find an inn before the weather gets any worse.
---

Eventually, after some time of wandering, the traveler found his way into the Hallows Inn. Upon entering, he was immediately caught in the midst of what seemed to be a call to arms, judging from the conversation being held. A man with unkempt, shaggy hair stood tall, addressing the crowd from his position near the back wall. A few seemed to have responded to his call, including a rogue in his early adult years, a woman with a multitude of weapons, and a traveler whose clothes couldn't be any more worse for wear. Curiously enough, there was also a teenaged girl who stood among them, wearing a uniform resembling that of a nun's and a school girl's. His eyes sparkled at this particular scene, interest visibly piqued. Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw the bartender approach him.

"Hullo there. Name's Sloan. Can I getcha somethin?"

Turning his attention to him, he replied in a clear, friendly tone, most unlike the one used back at the gates.

"A room and some food would be fine, I suppose. Name's Franklin, by the way."

Sloan's face twisted ever so slightly in bewilderment, one of his eyebrows raised, making one of his eyes increasingly larger than the other. The mere sight of the visitor's facade shook him.

"Ah. Alright then. O-One of my wenches will be with ye in a bit."

With crimson eyes following the barkeep as he went to call one of his workers, Franklin chuckled a bit. It had been a while since someone had seen his face, disfigured as it was. And, with that kind of reaction, the shock and apprehension on the man's face as he walked off... Well, he couldn't help but chuckle at the thought.

Mood considerably brightened by the particular occurrence, he took a seat near the doorway and laid his rucksack and stave against the table. His eyes gleamed just for a moment as he lowered himself onto the chair, mouth drawn into a wide smirk.

Well, isn't this place interesting, from the bartender down to the patrons. I suppose I'll watch the current proceedings for a bit before getting away from these filth.
Post #: 29
12/26/2014 13:18:08   
TJByrum
Member

In a fierce reply, Sera struck back at Toren with obvious aggravation. Her throwing knife left her hand! Toren's index finger twitched for a moment before finally realizing it did not come forward, but rather up - finding itself sheathed into its place. "You've given me no reason to join you, warrior," the bounty hunter continued, "but brazen gall such as yours is admirable, and should be rewarded in some form. Very well, then. Until either these 'Nazha' or myself fall, my skills are at your service." Whatever resistance Toren had against the woman all but dissipated. Some how or another, he had gotten through to her; perhaps not in the orthodox way, or the way he had intended, but at least she had volunteered. An expression of relief washed over his face, completely drained of the tension that not only filled the room, but himself.

Toren nodded his head in acceptance and replied. "Very well then, bounty hunter. Your... will is something we could use. I cannot offer you much, and I cannot promise you anything, but one day you will be rewarded, either in this life or the next." Toren had to turn his head a little to the side to hide the grin trying to creep onto his face. Lily let out a quiet chuckle as she realized what he was doing.

Unfortunately, almost as soon as the debacle with Sera was finished, another stood up to protest. This woman was quite peculiar: purple hair, pale skin, and blood red eyes; he'd have to be fool to not suspect some form of vampirism. “I don't mind you coming here and asking the people for help in whatever mess you got yourself into, however I'll ask that you not speak of higher morals considering your own situation. Nor will you speak rudely to the very people that you yourself are asking help from. I have no problem having you and your companion kicked out of town and back into the rain. So if I were you, I'd check my mouth before I let it run again. Sera has been apart of this Inn for the last eight years, I at least say I respect her as a person unlike you who I've know for only the past three hours.”

Toren began to grow aggravated, but knew he had to suppress the urge. For Lily... for the girl... The woman, however, continued to speak. “Well, then now that that's out of the way, let's talk business. Before I agree on any thing, there are some gaps in your information. You said you've fought them but gave no background on their skills. You said you saw their face, but gave us no figure to picture in our minds. You say you know why they're after you, but gave us no backstory. What I want to know are the facts. Details, information, knowledge; I want to know as much as possible. Don't assume that help ever comes free of charge. I have no interest of helping if I'm to be left in the dark. That much is fair, right?” The woman then turned to the one known as Marcelline and told her "in this world, especially in the world of magic, knowledge is power. Remember this, the more knowledge you have the more influence you have. Come with me to my room after this, I wish to show you exactly what I mean by this. Maybe you'll find answers to your own questions.”

This woman was Kitsondra, the so-called 'Queen of Illusions' as the Red Lady had just pointed out. He wondered if that was a given title, or self-made. Whatever the case, this woman sought information. "I'm asking for volunteers to fight the Nazha, Kitsondra. They're... unnatural... not of this world, but of another. They're agents of evil, and they're here to fulfill their agenda; they will not - cannot - leave until that agenda is fulfilled." Toren began to pace back and forth slowly, informing the room of the Nazha:

"I have fought bandits, brigands, guards, even knights. I have hunted down the most terrible of beasts. I have journeyed to dark places, fighting what you could only see in your nightmares. But I succeeded. Some how or another, I succeeded. But these Nazha... I cannot succeed against them - not alone. They require... specialties... skills that I do not possess. My skill with the blade could not match their own; my understanding and use of magic could not outdo them. I fought on and on, but alone I could not even break their guard. They know when and how you will strike, and their magic is unlike any you have faced before. It is not darkness as you know it... it's... beyond darkness.

"Their faces are hidden beneath their black cloaks. Hell, I'm not even sure if they were cloaks.. to me it looked like darkness enveloping some sort of figure. I have seen little of their actual face, but it is gnarled, repulsive, and disfigured. Their teeth appears to have been plucked from some vile carnivore and then rammed into their gums.

"In reality, these Nazha were not originally after me..." Toren stopped his pacing and looked back at Lily. "But rather... the girl." He swallowed, hoping such a revelation would not deter the volunteers. "And it is my sworn duty to protect this girl with all that I can. She is priority, and I cannot allow her to die. Because of this oath, the Nazha must deal with me as well. But I must regretfully inform you that I cannot reveal why they're after the-"

Toren was about to finish his explanation when Lily hopped up out of the booth with the Red Lady. "The Nazha will never stop hunting me down," she said in a somewhat frightened and shy voice. "They killed my entire family, burned my home, and will not rest until they finish the job. I... I'm not sure what the Nazha want with me exactly, but I know it can't be good." Lily looked over at Toren, who appeared a bit flustered at her interruption, and then back at everyone in the room. "The thing is, I can't turn around and fight. All I can do is run, and run, and run until the day finally comes that the Nazha capture me. And then it's over... not just for me, not just for Toren, but for everybody." The girl sighed and looked down on the ground. A tear began to form at the corner of her eye. "I can't ask you to do this for me," her voice wavered, "but whether you want to believe it or not... someone has to do it... but who? So far the only person to ever look out for me was Toren... but someone needs to look out for Toren as well." The girl never looked back up. She just let out a whimper, falling to the side as outstretched arms hugged Toren's stomach.

< Message edited by TJByrum -- 12/26/2014 13:24:16 >
DF AQW  Post #: 30
12/26/2014 16:05:53   
Bastet
Member

[...]but whether you want to believe it or not... someone has to do it... but who? So far the only person to ever look out for me was Toren... but someone needs to look out for Toren as well.”

Symphony couldn’t help but smile after the little girl was done giving her endearing speech. They sighed too, knowing that they wouldn’t feel such emotions again. They would see people come and go, and continue their existence as a wanderer of the world. The music came to a halt, leaving the few who weren’t concentrated on the standoff a bit disappointed. Symphony felt, for once, that taking part in these mortal affairs was worth it. It wasn’t a feeling that often presented itself in the spirit’s mind, as they felt they lost the right to influence events directly when they originally died.

Maybe I could interfere this time, this innocent town doesn’t deserve to be taken over by these… Nazha. There are tunes and notes to be found within the heart of the forest, which will be lost if these foreign invaders burn the grove. They do sound like a menace, after all.
Lucky people, I don’t often give my help.

They stood up and slowly began walking towards Toren, guitar in hand. They also seemed to attract the attention of most of the patrons in the tavern with their fancy looks. It didn’t matter, though, the commoners’ attention was well welcomed to them. The Little Queen’s presence attracted their attention, Symphony sensed her to be holding on a significant quantity of secrets. A knowing, but fleeting stare was dedicated to her, looking to seed in her the same interest Symphony had.
Perhaps they would have a chance to converse with the vampire, in due time.

Symphony finally spoke to Toren.

“I am a wanderer of the world, and Darkwald has peaked my interest. These "Nazha" seem like the type that would pillage and burn the area, should they manage to defeat this newly formed group. I wouldn’t want that, for I believe there are many secrets to be discovered within this magical land.
I don’t think I would have to specify my skills, as I don’t attempt to hide the true nature of my being.”

One more gaze, this time directed at the one who called themselves Marcelline.

“You may call me Symphony...

They tipped their feathered hat and bowed.

...at your service”.


< Message edited by Bastet -- 12/28/2014 12:53:06 >
Post #: 31
12/26/2014 19:56:32   
Kellehendros
Eternal Wanderer


 Marietta watched the developments with a slowly growing concern that cut through the haze of cold. As the fire’s warmth worked its way into her bones her mind was loosening up, though she winced ever so slightly at the raised voices as the warrior who called himself Toren began to argue with Sera, the bounty hunter. The half-elf watched the confrontation with something bordering on alarm, her eyes focusing on the knife that the woman held in a ready-position in her hand.

Sharp blue eyes lingered on the blade, but Marietta’s ears were not closed to the other sounds of the tavern. Someone else entered, bringing with them a momentary sound of fitful rain before the door was closed. Feet approached, and a figure crossed between her sight and Sera. For a moment the hunter’s eyes flicked over the newcomer, as she settled into a chair near the fire, drawing out an odd stringed instrument. Marietta had never seen such a thing before, and found the sounds made at the plucking of the strings to be unusual, but not unpleasant.

For the briefest of moments, the hunter’s eyes met the player’s, and Marietta thought she detected a faint amusement there, but she could not be certain, and the musician’s eyes went back to the discussion, and the half-elf’s eyes followed.

Things were not going well for Toren, or so it would seem. The tension in Sera’s form was obvious to the hunter’s blue eyes. For a fraction of a second her eyes flitted to the bowstave that leaned against the table next to her, wishing it was strung. Stringing the weapon would take several seconds, not so long as one might have thought, especially for a woman of Marietta’s size, but three or four seconds was a veritable age in a fight, when life or death might hang in the balance. Marietta intended to do what she could to keep the two from killing each other, if only to save Sloan the hassle of cleaning the entire common room of blood. Without the bow she would be forced to rely upon the shamshir, and against a competent opponent (be that Sera or Toren), that could be her death. Still, the threat alone of drawing another into the disagreement might be enough to stay a fight.

Her hand slid to the hilt of the weapon, fingers curling about it. Marietta’s eyes narrowed as she watched the repartee, and she was about to rise when Sera tossed the knife. The hunter cursed inwardly, but let go a gentle breath of relief a moment later, the tension easing from her as Sera caught the blade and agreed to help Toren.

The accord was good, if only for Marietta’s sensitive ears, but it was not to last. Kitsondra took up the challenge next, demanding information on that which the stranger proposed for them to stand against. The half-elf suppressed a shiver, folding her hands about her mug and taking a slow sip, her mind reeling back through the years to another common room in a another inn. That was where… No, she wouldn't think of that, not here, not now, not with so many watchers.

But there was the answer… and the girl.

Marietta rose slowly, her eyes on the trembling form pressed tightly against her protector as the little girl spoke. Memories crashed over the hunter unbidden. An inn so far away, a little girl huddled pitifully in the skirts of the innkeeper’s wife, a man with sunlight shining golden through his hair, her friends setting out upon the road with her…

The half-elf wrenched herself out of the thoughts, bracing herself against the table with one hand, lest she fall. Someone was speaking, but the words flowed into her ears and out again as quickly. The hunter shuffled forward as though in a dream, slipping past those who had gathered about Toren and the girl, much like her friends had gathered about an innkeeper’s wife and a lost child so very, very long ago. She knelt, her voice soft as she spoke to the girl, ignoring the others. “A long time ago, a very dear friend told me that the world was filled with darkness, and that it was our duty to cast a light, no matter how dim, to drive away the shadows. Even a candle can shed a brilliant light, if it is used to spark a bonfire.”

She paused, slowing pushing herself to her feet as though the effort cost her something, and looking at Toren, she spoke, her voice subdued. “This is my home now. I do not thank you for bringing the threat of darkness and death into it, but for the girl, and the memory of one gone from this world, I will stand beside you to protect both.”
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 32
12/26/2014 23:07:55   
Riprose123
Member

Thunderclap, step into Dancing Clouds, press into Pouding Rain...

Maria's momentum carried her gracefully atop the sloped roof of the inn, her feet sliding and stepping perfectly over the thin surface it provided her. Her thoughts were focused, even with the pounding rain around her, threatening her with a sudden and quite leathal trip to muddy, unfrogiving earth. She flowed effortlessly from form to form, her lithe, muscular body shifting from one stance to another with long-practiced familiarity. Her every step was exactly where it should be, no energy wasted. With every move she made, it was simple, practical, and perfect. Observed from the ground, or the wall, which this spectacle most certainly was, her forms appeared to be something chaotic and strange, but every part of it fit together in her mind, and she knew from experience that every move she performed in this cadence was brutally and lethaly effective.

Lighting Split Tree, step into Part in the Clouds, kick into Stormfront...

She continued this for hours, her body soon soaked, not only by rain, but by sweat that had accumulated over the course of her excercises. By the time she finished, the rain had ceased, the clouds had parted slightly, and the new morning sun peeking out from on high. Standing lightly on one foot, still holding her drawn back, flexed left leg in the first formation of a kick, she studied what she could of the new morning sky. The grey clouds covered much of it, but ther ewas a new sun out, a new day. She had mixed feelings of today, her expectations not at all clear and as her foot slipped silently from the wet point of slate that served as her place of rest, her hand coming out lightly to catch her, flat on palm, making contact for the briefest of seconds before she was sliding, sliding down the roof, she sullenly accepted the fact that she would go another lonely day, too afraid to allow anyone too close.

Lone Cloud, press into Dark Horizon, block into Eye of the Storm...

Soon, after a short slide down the roof, a grasp of a window sill, and a light swing, she was standing back in her appointed suite of the inn. For a few extra coins each week she was afforded one of the larger rooms, which, while not being a significant growth, allowed her a wider space than normaly avalible. Lightly slipping out of her soaked clothing, she slipped on a pair of clean, dry pants, and a small shirt. Finally she wrapped her blessedly warm cloak around her shoulders, clipping it with a small broach. She unceremoniaslly ran rough, callosed hands through her short, strawberry blonde hair, before pulling the black hood over her head. Peering into the mirror that hung above her dresser, she allowed herself a soft smile, looking at the short, but otherwise mysterious figure gazing back at her. The cloak moved softly as if blown by a soft wind, even though she had closed the window moments ago. At times, the cloak often displayed signs of free thinking such as this, and she would often marvel at the nature of the thing.

Soft Summer Mist, chop into Retreating Lightning, step into Winter Storm...

Opening her door softly, she was startled by the thin man knocking upon Kitsondra's door (that was her name, wasn't it?). With a small, startled eep, she slipped back into her room. People noticing her brought her sadness, and she went to painstaking lengths to appear unapproachable and distant, while at the same time not being noticed. Ready now, she cracked her door open again, staring as the man froze, then stumbled and entered his own room. After several minutes of waiting, he emerged, and made for the stairs. Maria silently ghosted him, frowning with thought as she took notice of something, that in all honesty, should be impossible for a man his size. When he walked, every step he took was one with the weight of ten men; he stepped with great weight, as if stepping for many, and when he moved, there was building, bubbly energy. He did not step perfectly; no, not at all. For as long as she lived, she had only met one person who stepped and moved with perfection, every step where it should be, every motion as direct as needed. No, he was mighty, but rough, and as she ghosted him, she grew curious of him, fearful of him noticing her, but too enthralled to do anything but follow him into the common room, just as a man began to speak.

Roaring Typhoon, throw into Racing Wind, step into Sheet of Rain...

The man had quite the speech, and as she was pulled from her studies of this heavy-but-thin man, she immediately stepped into the shadows at the side of the room, her eyes darting from one face to the next. The first to stand was an oddly dressed girl, who seemed all too willing to fight. She sat back down, and Maria wondered why youth were so eager to risk their lives. She had seen much too many young people run into Darkweld, only to never be seen again. After she had sat down, Sera, a bounty hunter she had talked too, not often, but enough to garner remembering every detail, asked about payment. Maria could not blame her, for there were many who did not do good for the sake of doing good. As she sat, and waited, a man she knew as Phillips stood, and gestured to a man sitting, volunteering him for this quest. Even with her lack of knowledge about the situation, she nearly grasped the nearest chair and threw it at Philips for pledging another. As far as she could tell, he was both arrogant and a coward, to be controlling someone else like that, all while to afraid of pledging his own aid. She was reassured, though, by the theif's, pardon, the survivor's, words, which dripped of passion and emotion. The next to pledge was the large man she was so intrigued by, and it was at that point that she began to ponder the possibility of including herself in this man's quest. It might even be fun, and it would give her ample opportunity to interact with people. But that was just as much a belssing as it was a curse, for with her, well, condition, she was not one to be close to people, not with the evidence of her past. She was a danger to those around her, even if she never raised a hand to any of them, and this she knew, no matter what others may have told her in the past.

Warm Summer Wind, step into Rain on Rooftop, press into Lightning Strike...

She was ripped out of her thoughts next by a growing tension. There were obvious strings pulled tight between the man and Sera, and as Sera tossed her knife lazily in the air and sheathed it, offering her help as well, though at what cost, the tension seemed to dissipate, though it was quickly brought up agian by the local glorified gossip/information hound, Kitsondra. Maria had despised Kitsondra from the moment she laid eyes on her, for no other reason than a gut feeling. Maria was brutally torn between avoiding her outright, and befriending her, in the hopes that something terrible and deadly would happen to her. So far, she had avoided the woman, and that was how she hoped to keep it. As yet another person pledged themselves, Maria's eyes drifted to a small child sitting at the table near where the man stood. She looked young, too young to be traveling. She was familiar, if only in looks, and as Maria's mind raced to find the connection, she found herself gliding through the shadows toward her, silently, drawing no attention, until she stood close to the small girl.

Soft Patter upon Tin, lunge into Crashing Thunderroll, press into Twisting Cyclone...

It was the eyes! They were the same. In her mind, she knew there was no relation, there couldn't be, but the similarities were there. She had the same eyes as her lover, the one who had died because his luck had, quite literally, run out. Maria felt drawn to this girl, and as such, her rough, calloused hand found itself resting against her shoulder, a rough, but pleseant warmth, emerging from the shadows. Maria knelt lightly, her eyes shining in perfect impersonation of the girl's, irises of the same color, pupils the same size. With her other hand, she pulled the hood from her head, and as sadness and regret filled her, tears ran down her face. Her will had broken, but she had no regrets. She found herself speaking without meaning too, but planning every word with perfect diction, for she moved with perfection in everything she did; every step right where it should be, every movement just as powerful as needed.

"I will fight with you," Maria said, tear stricken trails snaking down her creme colored cheeks, eyes never leaving the side of the girl's face as she spoke, "none of you know me, but I will fight with you. For this girl, who reminds me so much of times past. I will fight with you."

< Message edited by Riprose123 -- 12/26/2014 23:27:36 >
DF MQ  Post #: 33
12/27/2014 19:53:56   
blankmaskara
Member

Some do it of the reward, some out of the pity, and others, the sincere kindness of their very soul.. I'm not sure whether to find it amusing, or simply foolish...

Just as a plate of potatoes and roast beef was laid out before him, one by one, new faces rose, volunteering for the man's plead for help.

First among them was the woman he noticed from earlier, wearing a look hardened from years of battle. Despite being among the first to respond, she seemed aggravated and skeptical about it, almost to the point of killing. At the highest point of tension, her blade left her hand, sailing through the air, only to be caught by the woman, heeding the man's call for aid as she put back her weapon. Fortunately enough, she was able to restrain herself and decide to take him up on his offer. Otherwise, Franklin's worst fear at the moment might've been realized, the formerly peaceful inn transformed into a slaughterhouse. However, despite this, Franklin had a small, itching feeling that the woman wasn't quite satisfied and may still wanted something out of this particular endeavor.

She's a merc of some sort from what I can tell after all.. And judging from the conversation, she's clearly adamant about getting what she wants--or deserves, at least.

After a short interlude wherein the two people seeking aid explained the direness of their situation, a few more people rose up from their seats. One of them was a girl with hair the shade of a deep, violet-like blue, eyes that shone a bright orange, and clothes to match the vibrancy of these features. Despite the lack of weapons on her person save for a single guitar, it was plain to see that she had a few more tricks up her sleeve. Not just anyone could travel to a destination as dangerous as the Darkwald, after all. Something about the glances she threw out to a some people as she announced her willingness to give aid also nagged at him. She knew something. He was sure of that much.

The other two seemed to rise up not because of the amusement nor the protection of the land and its many wonders, but rather, the simple compassion and sympathy they had for the little girl's plight. Franklin, as amused he was by this gesture of genuine kindness, couldn't help but laugh internally at the actions of the elven ranger and the woman with the eyes of ever-shifting color, the tears he witnessed forcing him to stifle what would've been a maniacal fit of laughter. He thought it stupid, almost idiotic to do such a thing in a place as brutal as this. The people here could easily betray and kill without a second thought, as demanded by the harsh environment they lived in.

Although, they must have some skills that give them to freedom to do things as stupid as this.. But, some point in time, it'll all come rushing back at them eventually. Betrayal, murder.. Won't be too long from now.

However, as interesting as the people who volunteered were, they couldn't keep Franklin's curiosity from latching onto the Nazha. What the man said regarding them, creatures that wield magic beyond darkness, with ominous cloaks that hid their wicked teeth... He couldn't help but feel drawn to them. They did share a few similarities, after all.

It would be quite the rush to combat such demonic creatures, and no doubt there's more than a morsel of knowledge to be gleaned from them. If I join these strange people on their quest, I could be able to further my knowledge on the more demonic, ungodly magics, but if not.. Well, a little fun wouldn't be bad, now would it?

Franklin toyed with the possibility for a few more moments, unconsciously playing with the knife placed right beside his plate, letting it dance around and between his fingers. He knew there was the ever-present risk of death, and his curse only made that possibility even greater than before. But considering what there was to gain from the endeavor, maybe it was worth it.

Using his stave to push himself upwards, the mage rose from his seat, utensils clinking against the plate as he did. His tattoos started to glow a menacing red, and a flame of ink-black darkness came into existence in the palm of his free, bony hand.

"Well, the name's Franklin, and I would to take you up on your offer. Sure, I've heard what you've said about the Nazha. Creatures that are always two steps ahead, with magic that exceeds even darkness. As scary as that sounds, I believe I may know a thing or two about that. Besides, fighting those bastards may be quite the..thrill, if I do say so myself."


< Message edited by blankmaskara -- 12/27/2014 19:57:52 >
Post #: 34
12/28/2014 1:47:42   
Draycos777
Member

"This man smells like the soot of demons." Kitsondra's eyes narrowed as a man named Franklin gave his support to Toren. "He is either a demon or a human in command of one. He could be trouble if he isn't dealt with. But that will have to wait."

The half-elf and the self-removed girl had joined Toren's cause and while Kitsondra herself was unmoved by the young girl's show of emotion, Kitsondra knew that situations like these brought up good stories that are normally kept quiet. Kitsondra grinned and addressed Toren once again.

"Well, even with your lack on information, this looks like it will bring up more information then I could have hoped for." Kitsondra changed from using her right hand to her left hand as a head rest. "I'm amused and want to see how this plays out. Fine then, I'll lend you my resources for this quest of yours."

Kitsondra got up from her chair and looked at Marcelline. "If you'd like to take me up on my early offer then please, come." Kitsondra walked passed the spirit-smelling bard and back up the stairs. Kitsondra was only interested in the intuitive magic her could smell in the bard's blood but that didn't last long. Spirits being attracted to Darkwald wasn't uncommon. They all ended but being destroyed though. Either they got devoured or they gain power and get full of themselves, then they get devoured by something bigger then them. That was how the Darkwald forest worked though. If that spirited thought about devouring Marcelline or clouding the girls mind, Kitsondra would simpling rib the spirit to shreds.

< Message edited by Draycos777 -- 12/28/2014 1:48:43 >
AQ  Post #: 35
12/28/2014 15:32:25   
Bastet
Member

Before Toren had even a chance to answer to Symphony, two women moved towards Lily: one in a trance-like state, the other silent as a shadow. Both of them had something awakened inside of them by visual contact with the girl Toren was protecting, but they approached her in two distinct manners. The spirit was enticed by their emotions, as such a display was rarely seen.

They both are moved by memories of a past long gone. It’s quite… sad. Well, now I know what to play next. This tavern is quite lacking in music.

As Symphony braced their guitar again and re-adjusted their hat back on their head, they began walking back to the spot they occupied previously. On their way, the vampire walked past them. She didn’t look interested in the mystical musician, only in their ability to know what they shouldn’t. Kitsondra’s figure rapidly disappeared as she made her way to her room.

Such a shame, vampire. Many songs could be composed with your help.

The spirit sat again by the fire, taking a moment to take off their hat and place it at their feet. They thought that, perhaps, they could earn some coin to afford a room for the night. Physically, it was superfluous: the spirit didn’t need to eat, drink or sleep like regular humans. Yet, Symphony longed to feel like someone that still had a place in the world. Waiting for the sunrise outside, like a ghost of the night, would only have made them more detached from those who still held onto their lives. As they shed a silent tear, they discovered that not all human emotions had left them. Most importantly, they could still cry.
With the light of the dancing flame shining on their peculiar hair, they played a song that spoke of things unknown, of loved ones long gone, and the uncertain future to come.

Perhaps I still serve a purpose in this world. Darkwald will tell.

< Message edited by Bastet -- 12/28/2014 16:44:38 >
Post #: 36
12/28/2014 15:54:51   
Master K
Member

Events swirled around Marcelline. After her initial offering to help the man named Toren, many others followed in her wake. Even the most jaded of them rose up to accept the call, and even the bitterest of hearts melted in the presence of the fragile young girl that was in his care. Marcelline wasn't motivated by any of these factors; why would she need payment or any reason, beyond the fact that she can assist in whatever way?

The violet woman had offered for them to speak in private, and the moment had come for this to happen. Marcelline, not wanting to pass up opportunity, decided that it was best she take this up. This woman clearly had interest in her, and could see past her saintly guise. She had been the only one to directly confront her about it, so it was best she took a lead and followed it.

She quietly slipped away from the gathering, and went upstairs to seek out the one who called her. After a bit of searching, she found the woman's room, and entered at her own discretion. The invitation had been took, and now it was a matter of what was going to be spoke about. Marcelline modestly entered the room, slowly examining her surroundings. She had to chose her words carefully, because she had a fair amount riding on this conversation.

After a long silence, she finally spoke up.

"You...you like information...right? Then let me give you my full story. Not that little tale I spun earlier, but the real thing..." She said to the violet woman. As she said this, she took off her gloves and shoved them into her pockets, revealing her scarred hands.

"I lived in a small village just outside of Darkwald. Dreary little place it was. I was indeed born to an alchemist, but my mother was no healer. She and I, we're one and the same. She taught me all I know presently, as meager as it was. Her bloodline...my bloodline...it has a great and terrible legacy of witchcraft. My ancestors were greatly persecuted, forcing us into secrecy. It's why I don this disguise. A village like mine was terrified of what we were capable of, and reduced them and their knowledge to ashes in the wind."

"My mother's abilities were greatly limited, but my own capabilities exceed what I currently know. I took off from my coddled town, and sought out Darkwald. I felt like I could...learn from this place. But alas, this isn't no place for a saint, even a false one. I feel as though it was some sort of miracle I made it this far on my own. I didn't lie about the self betterment bit, however. I want to explore the arcane a bit more. It has frightening power, and many abuse it. However, there's much worse things out there, far more dangerous than what I'll ever be."

"And now, here I am before you. I know not how or why...I don't even know your name, or anything about you. However, I'm going out on a limb here. You know things. You could tell I was a witch before I even opened my mouth. Whatever you have to say to me, I'll listen. I have no other options presently, and knowledge is always welcome with me."

After finishing her speech, she let out a sigh, and looked to the floor.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 37
12/28/2014 18:35:06   
  Gingkage
Wolf Rider


 Well, that business was over with. At least in part. At some point there was still the matter of payment to discuss. Perhaps later she would bring it up to this man - the girl said his name was 'Toren' did she not? regardless, perhaps later this day she would again approach him with the subject of payment. Or perhaps this would be one of the very rare jobs that she took on that she only demanded payment after the fact. She preferred to have it, at least in part, upfront. There was always someone who thought they could get free work out of her.

She had listened to Toren and then Lily's explanation of the Nazha, filing away the knowledge. Having agreed to help, and having learned all that these travelers were apparently willing to share about her targets, she reviewed the information given. So they weren't from this world? That explained why she'd never heard of them before. Though it would make it difficult to fight them. It would almost definitely require a good deal of improvisation. No matter. She was more than capable of thinking on her feet. She mentally categorized the information that they were agents of evil as unimportant. She had had many bounties where her clients had told her that the people she was hunting were 'evil' or 'monsters.' She didn't really care why she was being hired to bring someone in. She only cared that she got paid.

And more than that, she'd seen and heard enough to learn that concepts like 'good' and 'evil' were not nearly as set in stone as her clients seemed to believe. It was one of the chief reasons she didn't view herself as morally anything to anyone else, superior or otherwise. She'd had people call her both terms for the same reasons, after all. She almost laughed at a brief memory of a job she had once. Her client outright told her that he viewed all bounty hunters as doing evil work, but he was desperate as the man she was hunting was more evil still. She'd then had clients practically compare her to a saint for bringing in a bounty, or completing a mercenary job. If no one could even agree on a set definition of what 'good' and 'evil' were, then she saw no point in subscribing to either side of the moral compass. Criminal or saint, if they had the means to pay for her services, she'd loan her skills to either.

The fact that these Nazha knew when and where - and presumably how - she would strike though, was both important and worrying. A good deal of how she had gone after her targets was by taking advantage of the element of surprise. She was rarely able to finish a job without it coming down to her fighting skills verses their own, but being ale to surprise her targets always given her a slight leg-up on them. If this advantage had been stripped from her before she had even had a chance to try, then she was at a very large disadvantage.

"Okay. So they know when and where I'll strike. They'll probably know from that just how I plan on striking, what weapons or skills I'll use. Any competent fighter can tell the same just from mere observations. It doesn't put them at a level that I can't combat them at. It just means I'll have to be careful." The reminder was a comforting one. It occurred to her that she was thinking of this from the perspective of her alone verses however many Nazha she would be facing. There were others that had volunteered. On the other hand, she didn't know how they would fight, either. Narrowing her eyes, she tried to think of how best to work with these people, making educated guesses on how they might fight based on how they moved and what they carried in the way of weapons. These mental plans were barely sketches, though. She didn't dare try to think of anything concrete without knowing exactly how both her sudden comrades fought, and she especially couldn't dare try and come up with a plan for an enemy he had never even heard of. Abandoning a hopless task before it frustrated her, she decided that she would just have to be as flexible as she could, and if push came to shove she would work around these sudden allies instead of with them.

She glanced up as Kitsondra, followed shortly by... what had she called herself? Marcelline? The school-nun girl who claimed to work miracles. She silently breathed a sigh of relief as the information broker walked past without even a glance in her direction. She had been pleasantly surprised to learn she had the other woman's respect, if only due to association.

"I almost wish I could return that respect," she thought with a vaguely amused grin before schooling her expression. It wasn't really fair to Kitsondra. She had never been harmed by the older woman. Had in fact, barely said anything to her at all. By a combination of both chance and design. It was at least a slight run of luck that she had managed to dodge a conversation with her. But it was largely due to pre-planning. She deliberately avoided contact with her, sitting at a distance and not making eye contact. It helped that she stayed so briefly in this inn that any chances of conversation were almost zero.

Her dislike of Kitsondra had nothing to do with the woman herself, but her occupation. She didn't trust information-brokers. Her parents had taught her that nothing in life was free. The world as a whole taught her that nothing was more expensive than information. And the price was almost never readily apparent, and wasn't always one that a person was ready, willing, or able to pay. More than that, from what she had seen and heard of information-brokers showed her that, unlike her mother's or her own job, information-brokers didn't deal in fair trade. If you had to approach one of them, then you were already at a disadvantage. They had something that you needed, and you had no way of knowing just how much they had, or how much they didn't give you. No. She much preferred to interact and associate with people who she didn't have to always guard her words around. Constantly worrying 'Did I just give that person an advantage over me? Did I just tell them something that can be used against me in the future? What is this person trying to learn out from me? What are they trying to get me to tell? Is this safe to say, or should I keep it to myself?' sounded like more stress, and more hassle, than any conversation was worth.

Sadly, with both herself and Kitsondra agreeing to help, the broker would almost definitely have many chances to get information out of her. She was tempted to rub her temples in frustration. The older woman was already giving her a headache. And they hadn't even exchanged more than a glance.

This 'Symphony' character was curious. She couldn't really read her. Usually she could at least get a general idea of a person by study. But Symphony was a blank slate. She made a note to keep an eye on her. Someone she couldn't read was someone she couldn't relax around. The musician could very easily be planning to turn on any or all of them. And Sera wasn't about to be caught off-guard if she was.

She couldn't help her surprised expression when Maria volunteered to help. They had only talked a couple of times - Sera was sure she could count them on one hand if she wanted to it was so few, and even count how many words were said on the same hand - but those few times were enough to tell her that Maria was more of a loner than she was. But there she was, gliding over to Toren and the girl, promising her aid out of the memory of a figure from her past. Interesting.

Finishing her drink, she stood and walked back to her room. She still had a bit of maintenance to do on parts of her equipment, and with a job that sounded extremely dangerous, she wanted to be extra sure her equipment was ready for it.

< Message edited by Gingkage -- 12/28/2014 18:54:52 >
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 38
12/29/2014 0:16:20   
Draycos777
Member

Kitsondra waited for the girl in her room and as she heard the light footsteps of the child she opened her door and left it open for Marcelline. As the girl stepped inside Kitsondra's room, she studied it. To most the room was quite plain, but to those that seek knowledge it was a treasure trove. Kitsondra had a bed on the right side, one window at the far end and a hand-made wooden clock on the left side wall. Underneath the clock is a large wooden desk; it was this desk that any arcane user would be after. Rows of folders lined the top, filled with paper files full of written information on the townsfolk of Blackwater and some on others. The desk itself and the drawers on either side, at the bottom of the desk, were full of sacks upon sacks of books; some had place-markers in them. In the center of the desk was a small space cleared out for a quill pen, ink and a half filled book. The pen was enchanted and would write down what Kitsondra said to it, and at the current moment was busy scribbling something into the book about Maria, Sera, Marietta and Franklin. To the right of the desk was another dresser that acted as a filing cabinet, storing away books and folders that weren't used often by Kitsondra. Next to the desk was a small chair.

She listened to Marcelline's story with interest and smiled at the girl when she was finished. Kitsondra took Marcelline's hand into her own and held them. "There are many who fear those that tap into the arcane because they don't understand it or can't use it themselves. Instead of trying to learn more, they would rather destroy it all together and forget about it. It's a shame really. As for my interest in information. It's not just because of my job or because of an urge to know more then everyone."

Kitsondra's left hand let go of Marcelline and pulled down the neck of her shirt showing a scar just above her chest. The old wound was clearly made by a rather large claw and continue down pass were Marcelline could see. "A lack of information nearly cost me my life a long time ago, and took two good friends from me. Since that day, I promised myself I wouldn't be left in the dark about anything ever again. And since being an Information-Broker fit that perfectly I took it up as a profession. So don't worry about your scars, everyone who taps into the arcane has some."

With that, Kitsondra walked over to her desk and ran her left index finger across the spines of books, in a stack on the right side of the desk, until she came upon the one she was looking for and pulled it out. It was plain looking with a brown, hard-back, cover and a leather binding. However, looking inside, Marcelline would find that it had complete paragraphs on how better control the flow of magic in one's body and detailed exercises in increasing magical output for spells without draining to much energy. Kitsondra gave her the book and sat down on her bed.

"To tell you the truth, I've been looking for a partner. After making a name for myself down here, word as started to spread and I'm starting to get more clients from outside of the Darkwald. That's good for business, yes, but it's becoming much more difficult for just one person to keep up with the demand. I saw you had potential. Not just in the arcane, but you have the strength to fool normal folk into believing and opening up to you. And with my help, that can be extended to those with a few years of training under their belt. My magic deals in Illusions. Many think this art is weak and for cowards, but in the right hands it is quite the monster."

After saying this Kitsondra snapped her fingers and the room instantly vanished and was replaced by a blue sky, and a strong breeze. White clouds hung in the sky and the floor that was there had become rock instead of the wood of the Inn. Right away one could notice that the rock was the same size as the room's floor and then it dropped off. It was many, many feet until on would reach the earth again should they fall off. As all of this was no doubt registering in the girl's head, Kitsondra snapped her fingers again and they were back in her room.

"It's a bit to think about, go and read that book and come back to me when you've reached your decision. By the way, my name is Kitsondra but most of the townsfolk call me Ms. Fon. You can call my by which ever you like."

< Message edited by Draycos777 -- 12/29/2014 0:19:24 >
AQ  Post #: 39
12/29/2014 1:28:15   
Master K
Member

Marcelline felt great reassurance from Kitsondra. For once, she felt relieved, knowing that she wasn't the only one who bared ugly scars from the past. She was also relieved to see they were on the same page when it came to information and its power. The inn room she was in was as interesting as the person who inhabited it. The books, the assortment of papers and books, the self writing journal...it was all fascinating. As Kitsondra went on, she also handed over a book, which appeared to be a tome on the subject of magic and efficient magic usage. Marcelline briefly flicked through it before directing her attention back to Kitsondra.

Illusion magic sounded intriguing, but what was even more intriguing was the scene that Kitsondra had conjured up before her eyes. It was vividly beautiful, and felt all to real. The clouds, the sky, the gentle breeze, the elevation they appeared to be at. The light of the picturesque sky felt all too real for her. She began to reach one hand skyward, almost as if she was going to shake hands with the clouds. With a mere click of the fingers, it was all gone again. Marcelline quickly withdrew her hand, upon realization that the fantasy had ended, and reality ensued.

One important thing that registered in her mind was the offer of partnership. After that spectacular show of power, Marcelline felt swayed. With the assistance and guidance of a woman such as Kitsondra, Marcelline might be able to make it farther in Darkwald than what she could hope for on her own.

"I'm flattered, truly." Marcelline admitted. "Not many people see the value of keeping appearances. People behave much differently if they believe you are a saint instead of a sinner. Knowledge is all too valuable, and many times people take that for granted. I myself, not having much going for me other than lies and slight arcane, value whatever I can use to protect myself."

"As for your offer, I think I shall accept. I would graciously appreciate guidance, especially in a place like Darkwald." With those final words, Marcelline gave a slight curtsy, and turned to leave.

"Illusion magic...I had forgotten how beautiful the arcane could be..." Marcelline mused aloud as she left.

She headed back to the room she had rented. She laid her pack and umbrella on a desk in the room, and laid down upon the bed. She took out the tome that Kitsondra had given her, and decided began reading, diving into the world of the arcane.



AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 40
12/29/2014 14:13:48   
Draycos777
Member

As Marcelline left her room, Kitsondra closed the door behind her. It had worked and she had gotten the girl to become her apprentice. While Kitsondra was very pleased by this, she was also slightly upset. She didn't want to talk about the past she had tried to move on from, however trust is gained only once you yourself can give trust out to others. The girl, Marcelline had given Kitsondra her trust so she returned it and told the girl a bit about herself.

Kitsondra unstrung her gauntlets from her waist. Making sure they had finished drying, she placed them on her bed and then proceeded to remove her shirt. Placing it on the bed as well, she looked down at the scar that ran down her body. It started on her left side, just above her chest, and ran down the middle until it ended near her waist at the bottom-right or her mid-section. Kitsondra traced the scar with her right hand until her finger hit her bra. Although her eyes swelled up, but, nothing came out, or more accurately, could come out. Kitsondra remembered the day she received this scar. Back then she only cared about fulfilling her orders and never asked why or questioned the judgment of the people giving the orders. She should have know some thing was wrong, if she had only cared enough to question the guardsman's concerned face and the fact that even though she and her team had official orders, he wasn't expecting them. Back then, she merely pasted it off as poor communication. That was the day she lost two of her best friends and teammates. It was the same day that Kitsondra cried since becoming what she is now. She cried, cried and cried until she believed something inside broke, and since then she hasn't been able to cry again. That was fine for her though, she promised herself the next day that she would never experience something like that again. That she would always be prepared for anything and convinced herself that any bit of information could change lives.

"If only I had paid more attention. If only I had questioned that guard. If only I had asked why..." The guilt constantly pounded in the back of her mind, she had been their leader after all. Their deaths fell on her shoulders.

Closing her eyes, Kitsondra took a deep breath and opened them once more. Putting her shirt back on, Kitsondra had returned to her normal, hard-nosed, broker self and walked up to the quill that was resting in the ink bottle after finishing the task it had been given. "Swan, flip to Marcelline." The quill stood at attention to the new order it had been given and hopped out of the bottle, dried itself off and flipped back through the pages until it came to the entry in the book about Marcelline; it then awaited it's next order.

"Add this in please..."

< Message edited by Draycos777 -- 12/29/2014 18:27:53 >
AQ  Post #: 41
12/29/2014 18:30:33   
black knight 1234567
Member

Rain is cruel in Darkwald, but not without its tell tale signs. First, its that first whiz of gold that sips into your very bone, followed by the formation of the clouds, as if they were a line of warriors preparing for an enemies charge, then came the smell. The pungent, dampening smell that assured you rain was coming. And then the sound.
Droplets never feel as heavy anywhere as they do in Darkwald. You can hear each and every one of them coating the obsidian black stones, each step you take seemingly ending with your feet down puddle or a marsh of some sort, and in the end it all feeds The Stone River located in Blackwater, the heart of Darkwald.

Sorlan should know. Each step he took his grieves made a loud ''thud'' against the ground and the water, the rain drops slipping off the shiny floral patterns of his trench coat, no doubt an effect of the downpour.
Nobody every questions who Sorlan is or what he wants. Usually the men just open up the gates as the ''slayer'', that's what they called him, he then conforms with a person behind the gates and leaves with a pouch of gold in hand, sometimes he'd spend a day or two in town but this time there was no one behind the gates. It was just Sorlan and the determination in those hazels eyes of his told you everything you need to know.

His path along the road lead him straight to the River, and more important what sat upon it, The Hallows Inn. This fine establishment has served as the number one spot of conglomeration between the townsfolk, with all kinds of strange characters within. Its shingled roof and its wooden foundations made perfect refuge from the rain, but he was seeking something else He walked in, and he didn't care what inside. He had a goal. He was here for the Queen of Illusions.

He seemed to stumble upon the middle of something, a man and a girl were causing a commotion. He almost looked like a bum of sorts, long messy hair down the shoulders, black just like Sorlan's, with an unkempt beard, but hie armor said otherwise. All black and sturdy in appearance, this man was a fighter of sorts. And he had the most peculiar of eye colors...
And he had a little girl with him. Mud stained clothes with cut, matching black hair and that same eye color stood out in here. There was tension in the air between everyone, but a few characters stood out.
First there was a man seated to the far end, a horrible unkempt dirty and grimy look with an odd choice of appearance, some kind of equally filthy poncho covered up most of his body. To the untrained eye, this may be someone with a particular dislike for hygiene and an odd sense of fashion, but not to the trained eye. The body language gave off something unnatural, something just plain....wrong., hunting what's considered an injustice to nature is his area of expertise, and this room was filled by them.

On the other hand, you just had plain normal folk. Shady normal folk, but normal folk nonetheless. Like that hard headed Sera, who he's seen a few times passing by. A mercenary of sorts who's constantly on and off and a fairly unknown element to the townsfolk, but nonetheless she has made a name for herself in the area. She wasn't unlike the hunter much in many aspects, and she seemed to have gotten herself into something, appearing the most tense in the bunch in response to whatever it is the new face had spoken.

But neither of those drew his interest as much as the next patron of the inn. Tall, atleast 6'4 in height with snow white complexion with graying hair and clean shaven just like Sorlan himself, complimented with icy blue eyes, sitting silently in his own little corner of the Inn watching the situation unfold, but then he spotted his hand. That black, withered hand. He's heard of this man. He may have even met him once.
Nothing stopped him in his tracks like this, making eye contact for a split second, hazel against ice before he turned his face, his angular features spelling surprise rather than determination, but only for that one moment, before being warped back into reality and heading towards the stairs. He didn't even bother asking Sloan for a room number, he'll figure that out as he goes.

Each step feeling heavier and heavier, almost as if the wood of the stairs is incapable of holding a feather's weight, making it up the stairs, he was greeted by a number of rooms. His hand quickly found his hilt, grasping it tightly for whatever might be thrown against him...
In the most polite, low tone voice he could muster, he spoke:

''Ms. Fon, may I have a word?''

< Message edited by black knight 1234567 -- 12/30/2014 6:42:18 >
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 42
12/30/2014 5:24:01   
Legendium
Member

Heinrich remained silent throughout the whole recruitment phase of Toren's quest.

The odd smelling man volunteered himself, and the thief had been volunteered by a man with a very large mustache. The discussion between the bounty hunter and Toren continued on until the bounty hunter joined due to Toren's "brazen gall". Heinrich frowned. One shouldn't be so ready to throw away one's life because of another's stupidity.

Around at that moment, the vampire spoke up. What struck Heinrich was that it spoke with authority, as if it ruled the town. It shouldn't have surprised him. Vampires who infiltrated society often took up positions of power. Most thought themselves above human beings and thus they often felt they had the right to rule over humans. But, despite this, Heinrich was beginning to get a feel that this vampire was different. He decided not to immediately kill her when he next had the chance, but wait and see more.

Luckily, the vampire asked the same question Heinrich was wondering as well; what exactly, these Nazha were. Before he could answer though, another man, or perhaps a more accurate name, thing, entered the room. The right half of its face was stripped down to the bone and it was obviously magic. Heinrich had long since stopped trying to distinguish between magics by now. There were so many magical entities in the inn that it had become a cesspool where everything blended together.
Heinrich also noticed that another being had entered the room unnoticed. It wore very gaudy clothing, and was also obviously magical, but Heinrich couldn't care less right now.

Then Toren answered. The description wasn't too helpful, especially because it was in the southern tongue and Heinrich could only follow half of it; but for demons he hadn't even heard of in his demonology classes, he knew it probably would be the best description he could get out. Obviously, they were demons, or at least servants of a greater one. Coming from a different world, being bound to a task and wearing cloaks of darkness all fit typical descriptions of demonic servants. But the being able to sense when and how you would attack intrigued him. THAT was new to him, and would require a different strategy. And the magic he had smelled outside seemed to fit as well; though it was very different to demons he had smelled before.

Right when Heinrich was musing over all of this, the girl spoke up. Her little speech was quite moving; and it didn't help that she reminded Heinrich of his own daughter. It was enough to move at least two others to helping Toren, and two others followed suit. Heinrich almost did as well, but despite appearances, the girl was not family, and not his charge. He had a charge of his own, waiting down in the town, in Caroline's house. Aye, when Heinrich had come, his intention was not to collect herbs. He had come answering a two year old plea; and he would fulfill it to the best of his ability.

He would fight these Nazha. But not with Toren and his band of fools. There were too many questionable participants for his taste, and he wasn't about to trust any of them; especially the vampire. No, he would work alone, as he always did on a hunt. But he would keep an eye on them, and keep close to their camp, unseen yet present if they were attacked.

Heinrich was about to get up and head back to Caroline's house when yet another figure entered the room. This one made Heinrich freeze in his chair.
Heinrich did not easily forget a face. This man, what was his name again? He was sure they had met before, but the name lay forgotten somewhere in his memory banks. Either way, even though he forgot the name, he knew about the man's order.
Long ago, before Heinrich's time at the Order of the Magus, a group of less noble witch-hunters had rebelled and broken off from the Order to form their own group. They became mercenaries concentrated on taking out monsters wherever the coin was good. To this day, their order still exists, and to this day, the Order of the Magus has been trying to stamp them out, believing that demanding payment for protection is border on criminal. The Order of the Magus was established on fairness and tax payer's money; to demand extra for that service was obscene. That said, outside of Friesland, the Magus had no problem with the Other Order doing what they did. Heinrich had no qualms with this man.
But seeing another person from so far north sparked his curiosity, so after locking eyes with the man, he followed him up the stairs, hoping to engage in a conversation he could actually have with no language barrier.

"Ms. Fon, may I have a word?"

Now it was apparent what the man wanted.

Heinrich walked silently up behind him and whispered "I wouldn't take her on alone, Sorlan Therin. This one is more powerful than most."
DF MQ Epic  Post #: 43
12/30/2014 7:16:30   
black knight 1234567
Member

''You seem to know a fair deal, Magus. Here for the kill?''
He quickly turned around, his hand never leaving his weapon as he stared down the man.
That accent incited a strong sense of nostalgia in Sorlan, despite being chased out of the north by the man's order. It was home, after all. Or the closest thing there is to it. And when he heard that voice, it clicked.
''Heinrich, I think it was? last I heard the order stopped embracing you as one of their own. Typical, I suppose. You looking for work?'' there was a slight tint of sarcasm in his words, but at the same time as if he meant those words.
There was a remarkably sharp change in accent and tone, aswell. They were whispers, but nonetheless the southern exist changed to a northern accent, no doubt allowing for easier communication between the two parties.

''Either way, there is a decade old contract on her and the reward is my weight in gold. The element of surprise is in my favor, no one has taken a chance at he contract for years.''
It is true. The contract on the so called Queen of Illusions has lied dormant for years n end, after effectively half the order was wiped out seeking the handsome price.
''Tis a fool's hope perhaps, but the fool that sticks her in the heart might aswell be me.''
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 44
12/30/2014 8:42:33   
Draycos777
Member

"...Lesson will be to sense magic. "

As Kitsondra was telling the quill what to write she was interrupted by someone asking if they may enter.

"At least they have the common sense to speak instead of knocking and trying to enter on their own."

She was about to see who it was when she smelt magic in their blood.

"Another witch hunter? No matt-" Kitsondra's thoughts were interrupted when she noticed that the man outside her door was joined by another when he switched from the Southern Language to the Northern one. Walking up to her door so that she could her what was being said, but far enough away so that they couldn't hear her breathing. She knew enough of the language from Caroline to follow the conversation, more-or-less. It must be the northern witch hunter.

"Caroline...that's it! That's why his eyes look so familiar; they're the same.

"An internal dispute?"

''Either way, there is a decade old contract on her and the reward is my weight in gold. The element of surprise is in my favor, no one has taken a chance at he contract for years.''
''Tis a fool's hope perhaps, but the fool that sticks her in the heart might aswell be me.''

"These idiots do realize they're right outside my door right?" Kitsondra sighed to herself. "Well, then I'll take them both down...or at least the southern hunter. The one from the North still holds a purpose. I'll have them open the door and trigger the illusion I placed on it. But just in case."

Kitsondra placed a magic sequence on her room. Once it was completed, she called out to them.

"Yeah, what is it? You a client? The door's open, come in and we'll talk."

< Message edited by Draycos777 -- 12/30/2014 23:19:05 >
AQ  Post #: 45
12/31/2014 8:43:58   
Legendium
Member

"Yeah, what is it? You a client? The door's open, come in and we'll talk."

Heinrich blocked Sorlan from going to the door before Sorlan could even think about. Just a moment before, he smelled a spell go off; it smelled of illusions, not lethal, but definitely something which could incapacitate a man. Heinrich had the feeling that entering the room would be a bad idea.

"This was not a smart idea, Therin." Heinrich whispered hurriedly to the monster hunter. "A stealthier approach would've been a lot more successful. Now all you've done is alert her of our presence."

In a louder voice, Heinrich tried to cover up without making the situation seem too forced.

"Ja, we are client. Wir suchen a bestimmte monster in Darkwald, und… need information. Aber entschuldige our… paranoia? Ist dass der Wort? Egal. We would bevorzuegen that you kom to unser zimmer."

(Translation: Yes, we are clients. We are looking for a certain monster in Darkwald, and need information. But excuse our… paranoia? Is that the right word? Whatever. We would prefer that you come to our room.)

Heinrich gave Therin a dark look, silencing any real or imagined laughter at his terrible language skills.
"Stay here and improvise. And whatever you do, don't go inside." Heinrich whispered to Therin, as he himself moved downstairs.

Heinrich had left his crossbow in his horses saddlebags. He rushed outside to retrieve it, grabbing the last stake bolt he had brought with him; he would have to whittle a few new ones soon, but that didn't take too long. Sliding the crossbow onto his back, he headed quickly behind the inn, to where the window of the vampire's room was. His original plan had been to climb up, break the window and shoot her in the heart with the stake, but he had gotten even luckier; there was an easily climbable tree close to her window!


Climbing the tree, Heinrich positioned himself a fair distance from the window under the cover of darkness and wound the crossbow back. The vampire was still too close to the window for Heinrich to be able to open it without drawing her attention. Actually, on second thought, the room might even be too small for there to be a point where he could open the window without it noticing; especially since vampires have heightened senses. His best bet would be to open and fire too fast for it to react. So farther away was still better. Heinrich settled in to wait for Therin to draw her closer to the door.
DF MQ Epic  Post #: 46
12/31/2014 9:02:43   
TJByrum
Member

If Toren withheld any sort of tension, it was now relieved. He had managed to pull together a few volunteers, but he was sure others would join later. "One last thing," the great warrior boomed out, "we will at the northern gates, just before dusk. It is then that the Nazha will attack. I bid you all farewell until then. Be ready for what it is about to come." Whoever he had gathered, he knew that the Nazha would be an excellent adhesive for the cause: forcing the band to stick together. For now, he was satisfied. "Okay, come on, Lily girl."

The girl released her arms and casually backed away from Toren. Her sobbing had quit, but the pain was still in her eyes. "Where are we going now?"

"We need to find this 'Caroline' so she can create an antidote to counteract the Nazha's power. Her brother is here, Heinrich, there with Kitsondra and the other fellow." Toren subtly motioned his hand to signal to Lily the location of the man.

"He looks busy," she replied.

"Indeed. We need not bother him, then. We'll find her on our own. Come now, Lily girl, let us find her." Toren walked out of the inn with the young girl in tow, attempting to find the local apothecary.

The nature of these Nazha was unique in the sense that they were not from this world, and yet somehow they were. It was a paradox. Whatever the case, there magical power was unusual, almost non-existent until they actually used it. It could charge their powers, they could emit powerful blasts from the palms of their hands, and could even spread through the air and on the ground as some form of infection. In order to counteract this strange power, assuming it affected anyone, the group would need some sort of antidote to prevent the power from killing them. That is, if they could kill the Nazha first. They were the dark agents of some maniacal individual, and they had carried their orders out to the letter since their very existence. This search for Lily was no exception.
DF AQW  Post #: 47
12/31/2014 13:41:24   
  Gingkage
Wolf Rider


 When Sera returned to her room, the first thing she did was open a window. Her bow needed maintenance that required an oil that smelled horrible and she didn't want it hanging around in her room. For good measure, she also opened the door a crack. Not enough to be noticeable as she didn't want people thinking the open door was an invitation, but enough that a little bit more airflow would make it into her room. She did all this moving quickly. She had a bit of maintenance to do on most if not all of her equipment and wanted to be done as quickly as possible so that she could hopefully get some rest before dusk.

Putting everything she needed next to her on her bed, she reached into her bag and grabbed both a cloth and the needed oil, grimacing as she did so. She didn't like using it due to both the smell and the fact that the bow was unusable for a small period of time while the oil sank into it. But she had been taught to apply it every two months as it kept the bow in good condition and also helped to slightly waterproof it. Since she valued her equipment more than her personal comfort, she used the oil despite her dislike of it. Taking the cloth, she ran it along the bow thoroughly, making sure it was dry and didn't have any dust or dirt on it. This oil had a tendency to seal anything that was on the surface it was applied on into it. Better to make sure that the bow was both clean and dry first. The process was then repeated on her arrows. Satisfied that nothing was on bow or arrows, she grabbed the vial of oil, noticing absently that she needed to get more. Taking a deep breath so that she would breath as little of this in as possible, she poured the oil onto her cloth and held it firmly in her right hand. She then grabbed her bow and ran the cloth along the wooden surface over and over again, making sure every inch was covered in it. She then repeated the process on her arrows, setting everything to the side to dry when she was done.

First task done, she moved cleanly onto the second one, grabbing the belt which contained her sword and knives. She had done some maintenance on them recently, but wanted to make sure that there was nothing that needed done. To that end, she scrutinized every inch of her blades, from end to tip. Her sword needed nothing, as did four of her knives. Two of them, however, needed a bit of sharpening. Grabbing her whetstone, she held it firmly in her left hand and grabbed the first of her knives. She then carefully ran the blade along it, making sure to sharpen both sides of the knife evenly. When it was sharpened to her satisfaction, she repeated the process with her second knife.

With her weapons taken care of, she then moved to her armor, carefully scanning it with both her eyes and her hands to make sure it would protect her. She frowned at one of the ties that allowed her to wear the armor, eying it carefully. For the moment it was fine, she concluded. But it would need replaced soon, before the small amount of wear and tear made it snap at a potentially disastrous time. A different tie needed replaced immediately, however, so she set about doing that. She had just finished replacing it when the comfortable silence she had been working in was broken by a voice.

“Miss Fon, may I have a word?” She narrowed her eyes in annoyance. He wasn't speaking loudly, but she preferred to work in silence and he had just destroyed the very comfortable one that had been there. Standing up, she strode over to her door with the intent to close it when a second voice spoke up.

Ugh. The nouthern tongue. She spoke it well enough, she supposed. Her accent was horrible, but she could say what she needed to in it. After all, bounties and trades didn't just happen in her own native language so her parents made sure that she was at least passable in it. But the language irritated her, both due to the fact that for whatever reason she would always stumble if she tried to say more than five or so words in it and the fact that as a child she had had trouble with the language and frustrating lessons caused her to firmly label it as 'annoying' in her mind.

She had nearly closed the door to spare herself more irritation when her brain caught up with her. She finally realized that that was caution in voice two's tone. That didn't make sense. Sure she didn't trust information brokers, but from what she could tell Kitsondra wasn't particularly dangerous to anyone. Well, no more so than anyone brave and fool enough to spend any length of time in the Darkwald, she allowed with an amused smirk. Curiosity got the best of her so she moved to where the quiet tones could best reach her ears.

“...here for the kill?” voice one had asked, thankfully in the southern tongue. Then to her irritation and dismay, he switched to the northern one. Now she would have to concentrate twice as hard to both hear and understand this conversation.

“...decade old contract... her... reward... my weight... gold... fool's hope... may as well... me... her.” were the only words that she could catch, but it was enough for her to fill in the blanks. And what those blanks were filled with was enough for her to take a – thankfully quiet – breath in surprise. A contract on Kitsondra worth that man's weight in gold? Her hand shook slightly at the prospect of turning such a contract in. That much money would allow her to be comfortable for years to come, perhaps even the rest of her life, without taking another bounty if she chose. Closing her eyes, she took a slow, steadying breath in an attempt to calm a heart that had suddenly started speeding up at such a prospect.

”Easy, Sera. You've already accepted a contract for that warrior, Toren,” she reminded herself. If there really is a contract on her – and you never take rumors of contracts at face value – worth that much on her, then if it's still standing there's a good reason for it. Contracts worth that much money don't stand long unless the person the contract is on has killed all who have tried. Even supposing you were to work with these two, the chances of you taking that contract and living to tell the tail, let alone being able to turn it in, are almost nonexistent.” Cold practicality sunk in as Sera reminded herself of these things. Slowly the hand that was resting heavily on the wall – when had she needed to lean on it for support? straightened as she ceased leaning on it. Her shaking hand stilled and her heart settled down in her chest. No. If this contract existed, it was not one that she would accept or aid in.

Besides, she thought with an amused smile, Kitsondra had just spoken up for her. It would be rude of her to repay the favor by turning around and trying to kill her. And then there was the fact that with as much authority as Kitsondra apparently held in the town, killing her would probably have immediate to near immediate unwanted consequences. Which would be... inconvenient while she was there. Besides, if she started a fight in the inn, Sloan might take it to mind to kick her out. And she was fond of this place in her own way. Being forcibly removed wasn't a pleasant thought.

She considered opening the door and saying as much to voices one and two, but discarded the idea. Kitsondra could likely take care of herself, after all. Moving as quickly to her bed as stealth would allow, she grabbed her armor and put it on as quickly as she could, years of practice aiding this and quickly belted her blades onto her waist. She then proceeded to walk, equally silent, back to her door, just in time to hear voice two claim something about being clients, murmur something that she couldn't hear to voice one, and quickly leave. He didn't return. Sliding a throwing knife out of its sheath, she quickly got it into a throwing position. If things came to blows, she would intervene. But she very much hoped that they wouldn't.

< Message edited by Gingkage -- 12/31/2014 13:45:40 >
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 48
12/31/2014 14:04:34   
Bastet
Member

Symphony hadn’t been entirely oblivious to what had been happening in the Inn. Bowing their head to the slight amount of people that graciously decided to donate them a few coins, they obvserved as a man entered the Inn. Not many secrets were hidden from them, however, and it wasn’t long before they understood why the man hurriedly headed upstairs. Another one had noticed the man’s approach, the man that spoke Friesisch. He looked as if he had just seen a ghost, and then immediately followed the first figure to the second floor.

The spirit immediately collected their pay, placed their hat back where it belonged and changed the notes that were being played, picking certain ones that seemed almost illogical. It was fairly obvious to them that by acting accordingly to the plan they quickly made up and decided to follow they would have drawn a huge amount of unwanted attention upon themselves, but consequences were secondary to the objective they had.
The kind of notes that were being played as Symphony stood up and began moving towards the stairs were highly… unnerving. Some were high, some were low, some seemed completely out of place. To any being that could sense magic, the bard would glow like a beacon. Even the commoners completely ignorant to magic were disturbed by the sonata.
They tried to complete as much of the sequence as they could before reaching the stairs; by that time the confrontation between the two witch hunters and the vampire was well underway. They were lucky: they had played the sequence correctly, and not too many notes were left. Symphony had almost reached the stairs when they noticed Heinrich rushing outside, seeking his crossbow.
The spirit resumed moving towards the vampire’s room, not knowing how long it would have been before the witch hunter put his weapon to use.

Toren’s voice was but a whisper in the back of the bard’s mind as they spotted the other magic-killer, standing in front of what Symphony sensed to be the vampire’s room. They sat on the stairs enough steps down that they couldn’t be directly seen from one next to the rooms, but made sure that the possible targets would’ve been within earshot. If anyone was to die, they wanted to make sure it wouldn’t have been a magical being.

If they succeed, nobody can garauntee I’m not the next on their homicidal list.
Post #: 49
12/31/2014 14:29:22   
Zephyrial
Member

The rough-hewn man - Toren - did not have an easy time convincing some of the inn's more cynical patrons. Back and forth they argued and spat insults, although they did manage to eke a lot of useful information out of the man regarding his mysterious foes.

These Nazha... for a moment there I thought he was talking about me. But these things are clearly something quite different - demons, through and through. They will not be an easy foe...

As soon as Toren had made his final statement, naming the time and place at which the first blood would be spilt, Kenet raced for the stairs. Once again the violet-haired sorceress had spoken with the dainty girl in the nun's outfit, and the two of them had retired upstairs. Despite the distraction of Toren and his approaching threat, he still felt that she was his most likely source of information. Leaving the room behind, he hurried quickly upstairs and positioned himself next to the woman's room, careful this time not to lay any part of his body on the ruined wood - it had not been difficult to figure out the method by which he had been ensorcelled before. Straining, he found he could just about make out the conversation taking place, and thus overheard many interesting and illuminating revelations. His conviction that the violet-haired enigma would be of use to him, it seemed, had been well-founded.

So... the younger is a witch, and the other is both an illusionist and an information broker? That explains the spell from earlier, at least. This 'Kitsondra' really will be the key to finding out whether this forest is the one I seek- I must speak with her.

Despite this decision, however, he still found himself fleeing from the door as soon as he heard the sounds of footsteps from within. He just managed to reach his own door when the witch opened the door and departed, clutching a leather-bound book as if it were her child. He waited until she had disappeared before opening- Damnit! Before he could take a single step, he was forced to retreat by the arrival of two more unsavoury figures - the hunter from before, and a handsome fellow whom he appeared to recognise. Once again Kenet found himself playing the spy, and he witnessed another interesting conversation. This one, however, worried him. They spoke of bounties, contracts... and heart-sticking. Adrenaline began to pump as the two hunters began to make their play, calling out to Kitsondra in their peculiar accent, as the first dashed outside - presumably with dishonourable intentions.

I can't let them kill her before I've had my say! Damnit! Will I have to act in her defense? Or is it best to stay hidden and watch to see how it plays out?

The second hunter clearly had no intention of staying still. Kenet fancied he heard footsteps from a room across the hall. A discordant tune wafted up from the stairs. What the hell was going to happen?
Post #: 50
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