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RE: The Hallows Inn

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12/31/2014 15:16:44   
black knight 1234567
Member

''Yes, what is it? you're a client? the door's open, come in and we'll talk''
A smirk formed on the hunter's face as he heard those words. For two reasons, either he's leaving rich tonight or he's just walking into the most obvious trap known to mankind, but before Sorlan could even move a muscle Heinrich pushed him back, cursing the man's lack of subtlety.

Subtlety with an information broker who knows every little inn and out of the town and has kept her secret hidden for over a decade? I question the use of subtlety.
But despite his disapproval, he remained quiet, his kinsman from the north taking over.
''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''
Sorlan kept his chuckles to himself, if the fierce look in the eyes of Heinrich were any indication, he wouldn't welcome the mockery, and Sorlan had much bigger things to worry about than disagreements on how to pronounce a few words, but he wouldn't need to worry for long as the ex-Magus strode off, leaving Sorlan with one set of instructions.
Improvise.

Therin stood there for a minute or two, contemplating his course of action.
On one hand, he's right. This is a powerful vampire with a hundred and one tricks up her sleeve, but on the other, we have no time for that. How do I know he's not planning to steal my kill? my glory?
No, i'm going in.
With great skill he pulled a stake in his hand, twisting it around before popping an odd, white mixture on it, coating the wood. It smelt of garlic. With the other hand he pulled his sword from his scabbard, taking a moment to grasp the hilt in his hand, he closed his eyes, breathing at a more irregular pace, suddenly the metal started shifting. Almost as if it was becoming...shinier, by the moment. As if every source of light the inn was aimed directly at the blade, it transformed. It wasn't steel anymore, it was blinding light.

With one vertical slash, the door collapsed, and the predator found its prey, or so he thought....
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 51
12/31/2014 15:25:01   
Master K
Member

Marcelline lost herself into the book that Kitsondra had given her. The book contained vast knowledge about magic, including great detail about the art of casting it, and how to efficiently cast it. She was entirely enthralled by the tome, until voices down the hall stirred her into reality. She tried to pay no heed, however, as it most likely wasn't something to bother her and her reading. However, it did remind her just how much of the book she had read, so she decided to take a break and let the arcane knowledge fully register in her head.

Marcelline decided to go to her window, and get a breath of fresh air. Opening it up, the air was relatively cool, and felt quite refreshing. She leaned out slightly and decided to take in the view. Blackwater appeared so much more interesting from this view, as she could see all the buildings, the streets below, the trees...

"Wait, what...?" Marcelline thought, straining her eyes. She saw something in a tree close to the inn, covered within the darkness. "A trick of the light? Perhaps an owl?"
As she focused intently on the foliage, she saw the blackened silhouette of a man come into view. He was holding something in his hand, and appeared to be winding or fiddling with it. A weapon? Marcelline suddenly decided to duck down a little more, to try and stay out of view.

"That's near Kitsondra's room..." Marcelline thought to herself. "But why...?"

"Perhaps...they detected magic on her too? Maybe it's an assassin, because she knows too much...but either way, there's no mistaking that Kitsondra must be this persons mark. I've got to warn her."

Marcelline gathered her things off the desk, but left the book behind. As she stepped out into the hall, she caught a glimpse of multiple people down the hall. She intently walked down, facing them, with a perfectly nonchalant expression on her face. These must be the people behind the voices she heard.

"What curious people." She thought. "Here were have...a man in a very grim coat, although I must say, I do like the floral patterns. There's also a man who appears to look like he's some sort of homeless traveler, as suggested by his gritty appearance and modest clothing. And...what's that awful sound? That cacophonous ruckus...it's coming from downstairs. How will this work? They're all crowded outside her room, and that person is still out in the tree..."

"Well, I'll do what I do best." Marcelline resolved.

As she came up to them, she stopped to acknowledge them. One man appeared to make some sort of motion, but Marcelline was too busy focusing on how she was going to lie her way out of this one.

"Oh, hello." She said rather sweetly. "You're certainly interesting looking. I presume you are all new to Blackwater, as am I? My name is Marcelline. Before you ask about my-"

Before she could even finish her sentence, the man in the coat had already broken down Kitsondra's door with what appeared to be pure, incandescent light. Marcelline jumped back in fright, playing up her innocent act.

"Sweet divines! Whatever are you doing?!" Marcelline exclaimed, loud enough to draw attention from people downstairs.

"Tis a shame that I'm not powerful enough to deal with this myself. Perhaps someone else can deal with him more...brutishly." She thought, with her ever unchanging expression still worn.

< Message edited by Master K -- 12/31/2014 15:27:28 >
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 52
12/31/2014 16:46:39   
Draycos777
Member

"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."

"Oh, I'm sure you are looking for a certain monster. What an awful lier. Kitsondra was thankfully able to follow what the man was saying thanks to the fact his speak was broken, since he knew very little of the southern language and spoke on and off between it and the Northern tongue. After this the man quickly rushed off, by the sound of his footsteps, he had gone back downstairs.

"Sorry, but like I've said to other clients that wanted to make their own locations. It's either here or nowhere. You're asking for my information." Kitsondra wasn't buying into whatever it was that they were selling.

"If I can just ge-" Kitsondra planing was interrupted by her door being smashed into. On the other side was an unfamiliar witch-hunter; the Southern one then? "Huh, well that was easier then I thought it would be."

"Welcome to my labyrinth." Kitsondra said with a grin. Labyrinth, the spell's keyword. The stronger Illusions have some sort of key in order to be activated and labyrinth was this one's key. To the man that had just entered her room through, rather forceful methods, the wooden tiling of the Inn become cold, stone flooring and the warm candle lighting became fierce torches. The and ceiling also became stone and the air around him became damp and moist as if water might come dripping down ontop if him at any second. He had been sent into a dungeon maze and Kitsondra was no where to be found. He couldn't see her but he could hear her though. This was of course assuming the spell had worked and the man didn't have a corner plan in case it was a trap.

"Well, only one way to find out." She told herself, tightening her right hand into a fist. "If it worked then this punch will be him running into a wall or pole."

Pulling back, Kitsondra sent a fist flying straight at his face. The witch-hunter buckled back and fell to the floor. Stepping over him and out into the hallway, Kitsondra checked to see if the other hunter was close by but she couldn't tell. Looking back at the dazed hunter, Kitsondra spoke to him with a frown on her face.

"I've spent many years to get the peaceful life that I have right now. I'd appreciate it if you'd not try and ruin it. But if you're so hellbent on it, you and your friend can join Toren's band of friends for a second chance...maybe."

As Kitsondra turned to head downstairs, to see if the other hunter was there setting up a trap, chuckling she turned her head back around and grinned. "Oh, by the way. I'm not really sure how long that will last since that kind of Illusion varies from person to person. So have fun walking around like that."

Turning back she noticed the others- in Kenet's case, smelt- standing in the hallway.

"Sorry if I caused any of you undue stress with the sudden noise just now. As you can see, my client and I had...a bit of a disagreement." She looked around for a bit but couldn't find the other witch-hunter nearby. "Hmm, he had a friend with him, but it appears that he ran off somewhere. Anyways, I must inform Sloan that I'm going to need a new door. He won't be happy, but hopefully if I pay off the expense, he won't be as mad."

With that, Kitsondra gave a small bow in the general direction of the other patrons and started walking to the stairs.

< Message edited by Draycos777 -- 12/31/2014 16:52:12 >
AQ  Post #: 53
12/31/2014 17:03:54   
  Gingkage
Wolf Rider


 At the sound of a crash, Sera immediately opened her door and stepped into the hallway, barely hearing the school-nun's cry of "Sweet divines!" and not particularly caring.

Her knife was ready to be thrown, but hadn't been loosed yet, self-control stayign her hand.

"Sloan is not going to be happy," she thought, looking at the damage during her immediate glance around for a threat.

Sera was tense, ready to fight if need be as she waited a few long moments for... something, anything to happen.

She couldn't help the sigh of relief as Kitsondra walked out, unharmed but with knuckles that showed she'd punched something - likely the intruder.

"Sorry if I caused any of you undue stress with the sudden noise just now. As you can see, my client and I had...a bit of a disagreement." Sera just managed to keep a straight face at those words, sliding her knife back into its home. 'A bit of a disagreement' seemed a colossal understatement, she thought to herself as she casually leaned against the wall of her own room.

She was tempted, sorely tempted, to ask just why there was a decade old bounty on her worth a large amount of money. In fact, she opened her mouth to ask as much, but at the last second changed her words to a non-committal "So I heard," as she stepped back inside her room and closed the door, shedding her weapons and armor as she made her way back to her bed.

There was curiosity, and there was stupidity. Asking about this bounty fell within the realm of the latter.

Assuming that Kitsondra even told the truth - a rather large assumption given that obviously she was hiding something to have so old a bounty on her head - talking to her at all would give the broker an opening to try and pry information out of her. Dodging an information broker's fishing was not on her list of things to do today or any day.

Sighing, she sat down heavily in her bed and started on the last bits of maintenance that needed done, hoping devoutly that there wouldn't be anymore interruptions.
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 54
12/31/2014 17:49:11   
Zephyrial
Member

"Sorry if I caused any of you undue stress with the sudden noise just now. As you can see, my client and I had...a bit of a disagreement."

Thankfully, the situation resolved itself. With one punch, Kitsondra had laid the hunter - presumably also caught in one of the woman's devious illusions - out cold, and stepped out over his body with a self-satisfied air. The moment he had heard the witch's cry and the sound of splintering wood, Kenet had flung open his door and rushed out into the hallway, nearly colliding with one of the more belligerent volunteers from downstairs, who was doing the same. Thankfully, neither of them had had to resort to violence, although quite a mess was made anyhow. Turning to face them, she addressed them about as nonchalantly as was humanly possible, as if she had only suffered some minor inconvenience. With a mixture of amusement and derision, the huntress brushed off the explanation with equal grandeur, before returning to her room. Kitsondra, however, made to retreat downstairs - seizing the opportunity, Kenet rushed over to catch her before she left.

The people here are stranger and more mysterious than the forest!

With some trepidation, and wary of any possible tricks or traps, he spoke. "Ms. Fon... I'm afraid I couldn't help overhear your conversation earlier. If you truly are an information broker, then perhaps we can help each other." He licked his lips nervously. "I have need of someone knowledgeable about this area to help me search for... something. I don't have any money, but perhaps we could work out an alternative arrangement. After we deal with the imminent threat of these 'Nazha', of course."

Holding his breath, Kenet awaited her response. He was acutely aware that the did not cut a particularly respectable figure, and the question of whether she was aware of his nature still hung in the air. Hopefully, however, the two of them could come to an agreement... and could avoid any disagreement of the sort that they had just witnessed. Clearly, in this mysterious place, he would need all the help he could get.
Post #: 55
12/31/2014 18:59:23   
Bastet
Member

With the situation back under control, Symphony let out a sigh. The song would’ve no longer been necessary, and they interrupted it just as the sequence was about to finish. The tip of the guitar hissed and let out a few sparks as the magical energies abandoned it.

At least that vampire can defend itself. Better that way, I didn’t have to intervene. The other witch hunter is still out there, though. Who knows what his next move will be. I must make sure that he doesn’t cause any further chaos in this Inn.

Symphony maintained their position on the stairs, innocently playing a song with a quick rhythm. It fit nicely, what with all the commotion that had been going on. They would’ve observed carefully the people that moved down and up the stairs, ready to intervene against further acts of violence against magical beings.

If she passed by, they would’ve stopped the surviving vampire for a talk. They wouldn’t have minded having an actual exchange of words with them. On the other hand, they would’ve been ready to stop Heinrich, assuming he took the stairs before Kitsondra left. He could’ve still harmed her.

Too bad the witch hunters didn’t give me an excuse to make an use of that sonata. Oh well, I can still lighten up the atmosphere with a quick-rhythmed allegro.
Post #: 56
12/31/2014 20:19:30   
Riprose123
Member

By the time Toren had stated the place and time to meet, Maria had retreated well away from the two, reprimanding herself mentally for stepping into the spotlight. She had sat and drank a small glass of cider as other's had taken oaths of aid, mentally memorizing their faces, and hopefully, with due time, their names. As the decrees were ending, a bard had begun playing, and as she passed by on her way to one of the more concealed tables, Maria had dropped a few coins into the bard's hat, settling down for some supper. It was a simple stew, with small bits of vegetables and meat, with almost a half of loaf of bread on the side, and as Maria pulled salt from one of the many pockets of her cloak, she began to think of the others who had joined Toren's merry band. Sera was a welcome, but somewhat off-putting addition, as Maria did not know her well, but at the same time, did not wish ill fortune upon her. It would take a lot of work to protect these people from herself, while at the same time help them through battle, and if need be, tend to their wounds as well. Situations like those begged for connections and relationships, and as much as she longed for them, she knew she would have to leave them. The bard gave her an odd feeling, not bad, but unnerving at the same time; they sent a shiver down her spine, sent her neck hair straight on end, and goose bumps sprout all along her arms, but she felt that they were not malicious. The man-who-walked-for-many still interested her to no ends, and she watched as he climbed the stairs at an odd pace. Finishing her meal, and pushing the plate silently to the middle of the table, she began to lean back in mild comfort, before something odd caught her eye. The northern witch hunter climbed down the steps and began to make his way through the common room. There was obvious purpose to his stride, and standing lightly with interest, she slipped her hood up over her head, and followed him silently out of the inn.

She watched as he approached his horse, slinging a crossbow on his back. As he did so, many a warning flag went up in Maria's head, and as he rummaged through his saddle bags, collecting something she couldn't see, she slipped around a corner, mentally compiling all the places where one could kill efficiently with a crossbow, accounting for stealth, aiming room, and of course, the given target, she checked off place after place, until he finally left his horse, and made his way around the side of the inn. Maria approached his horse sneakily, musing over the act of searching through it's bags, before shaking her head, curiosity and alarm carrying her back towards the northern man. She found him as he climbed one of her favorite trees, and as he settled on a branch, crossbow pointed towards one of the inn's windows, she debated on what she should do. She didn't know the man, nor who his target was. She needed to be left alone, for other's sake, so it would stand that she should not involve herself in other's affairs.

And yet...

And yet Maria found herself grasping the lowest branch, and silently climbing the tree, until she was sitting lightly above the unsuspecting Northern-Murderer. And yet, she found herself dropping to the extended branch in front of him, clad in all black, a shadow among shadows. And yet, she found her hands engulfed in vicious and hurtful, but effective and beautiful flames, reaching out for the crossbow, grasping the stock and forcing it up into the air, where it couldn't cause anyone harm. And yet, she found her face inches from the man's, eyes as black as coals, pupils swallowed by dark irises, saying with an excited, child-like lilt, "What do you believe you are doing, little man~?"

< Message edited by Riprose123 -- 12/31/2014 20:27:03 >
DF MQ  Post #: 57
12/31/2014 21:44:01   
Master K
Member

"Well then." Marcelline mused aloud. "That's certainly one way of handling riff raff."

With that, she merely turned, and headed back to her room. She laid her gear back on the desk, and retrieved the book that Kitsondra had given her. She sprawled back across the bed, and began to resume reading into the arcane. While she did so, thoughts swirled around in her head.

"It's getting dangerous. Even this inn is becoming less and less safe. Even so, those Nazha creatures that Toren mentioned of are still present too. There also bears another question...I've found some purpose in Darkwald as Kitsondra's assistant...but...why was I drawn here in the first place? Is there something I can learn? Is Kitsondra my answer, or is it someone else? Perhaps my answer is somewhere entirely different..."

As she continued to read, she eventually drifted off into sleep.



Ash.

So much ash...the ground was covered in it. Everything appeared ashen gray. The trees in the forest, and grass on the ground, the particles in the air raining down...it was all ashen in nature. Marcelline found herself standing among it, ash accumulating on her person. It was a dream, but...the desolate scene felt so real. What could it all mean? She knelt down and tried to brush the ash off her shoes, only to find it being replaced with more ash.

The forest she stood in resembled Darkwald...in fact, it was Darkwald. Underneath the thick ash of the ground was the main road, and she could barely see the river, as it was perfectly still and stagnated with ash. She found herself walking down the remnants of the main road, or at least, what appeared to be the main road. She felt lonely, but could also sense that she wasn't alone in a way.

As she walked, she heard something in the distance. It's sound resembled that of a music box. It was an alluring tune, with delicate notes, accompanied by twinkling bells. The only thing was, was that it's sound came from within the main forest, off the trail.

"They said to never walk off the main road of Darkwald..." Marcelline said. Her very voice seemed to echo.

With the music not ceasing, she had no other choice. Even in a dream, she felt uneasy about straying from the main trail. The trees were thick, and the white fog of ash was dense, obscuring much of her vision ahead. She kept on following the sound of the music box, which grew louder and louder with each step she took. As she got closer, she felt a horrible sense of dread consuming her, as if she was being told subconsciously to go back. She had to know what the music box was. Her will to know what it was kept her from turning back, no matter how strong the feeling of fear was.

Finally, after much pained trudging, she came upon the source of the music box.

There was a group of them. Six black shrouded figures, huddled in a circle amongst the ashen forest's floor. One of them was more visible than the others, as she sat on a raised stump, holding the music box in her hands. She had her head down, but there was no deny the long, wavy blond hair coming out from beneath the hood. Feeling her fear peak, she had no choice but to approach the circle.

As she walked, she felt her motions become more automatic. When she stood in the center of the circle, before the woman holding the music box, she took a moment to examine the others in the circle. To her horror, they were not all they appeared to be. The men and women of the circle, besides the music box bearer, were dead. Their faces were horribly withered and scarred, barely leaving any of their ashen flesh on their charred skulls. The women had long, stringy hair, and the men had shorter cropped stringy hair. Marcelline opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out.

The only one to appear relatively human was the music box bearer. Her skin was fair, albeit a bit ashen like everything else in the dream. Marcelline, not knowing what else to do, reached forward to turn off the music box.

As she did, the woman's hand snapped out to grab Marcelline's arm. No screaming or fighting on her part, but simple resignation. The woman slowly looked up to face Marcelline. Her eyes flared brilliant violet, which complimented her fair appearance. Slowly, Marcelline began to lose her strength, and began to slump to the ground, frozen in dreamy terror. Her eyes ceased to function, and ash began to cloud her vision. As she lost her sight, she heard the distant voice of a woman speak out to her.

"Seek Istarelle."

Then ash covered her eyes, and she felt as though she was fading away.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 58
12/31/2014 22:52:02   
Kellehendros
Eternal Wanderer


 Marietta looked away from Toren, staring at the little girl for a long moment in silence. There were so many things, so many emotions, rushing through the half-elf, clawing at her like the riptide, trying to pull her under. She resisted the wrenching flood with the training and experience of all her lonely iron years, drawing in a slow, deep breath and letting it hiss quietly through her teeth. Glancing at Toren one last time she nodded, and then turned and headed for the door of the inn, stepping back out into the rain. The others were moving about, scattering to their own tasks and leisures, until such time as they would meet again and face the darkness.

”Stand and cast a light into the darkness...” The hunter smiled sadly, memories rippling through her as she walked through the town, her feet leading her towards the small hut that she called home. It was nothing much to look upon, a small shack with three rooms; just a bedroom, a place to eat and prepare food, and a storage room where the half-elf kept drying pelts and her bowyer tools.

It was small and Spartan, but it was home. Marietta did not need much, just a place to sleep between the hunting expeditions that were now her life. Even in the old days she had not required much. Once she not told… No. The hunter shoved that thought away hard, though she could not save herself from a momentary misstep as painful memories welled up, demanding to be recalled. “A long time ago…” she muttered to herself, regaining her balance. “It was a long time ago. Another life, another place, other nights and other skies.” She shuddered, mouthing the mantra to herself until the near-fit subsided. Concentrating on placing one foot before the other, the half-elf continued on, finally reaching her door.

Fumbling her way inside, Marietta paused on her doorstep, blinking owlishly, jarred out of her thoughts by the sight that met her eyes. Normally she returned to a dark house and a cold hearth testament to her singular existence, but this time she found a pair of tallow candles guttering on her makeshift table, and a banked blaze snapping in her fireplace. The half-elf frowned slightly, moving inside with a light tread, and letting the door fall closed behind her. She stalked to her table, finding note there from her neighbor. Marietta’s frown faded, and the lightest of smiles touched the corner of her lips in the surprising light and warmth of her little abode.

Drex was a good man, and she was glad that he had found his happiness with Lena. He had taken the half-elf’s rejection with better grace than most, and had settled down with the daughter of one of the river fishers. According to the note, Drex had overheard one of the guards relating the incident with Turner to another of the off-duty peace officers, and took it upon himself to make sure her home was at least comfortable when she returned from the inn.

No doubt word of her encounter with Turner would be getting around town soon enough. That put an end to the hunter’s smile. While she would garner some praise and support from the townsfolk, given how little Turner was liked, the guard himself would be livid. Their next encounter, she was certain, would be less than pleasant.

Marietta sighed, leaning her bowstave against the wall. Pulling out a chair she slumped into it, staring into the banked fire. Unhooking the belt about her waist, she drew the shamshir off, hanging it on its belt from the back of the chair. Her fingers stroked over the worn leather of the hilt absently, lingering for a few moments on the pommel. “Promise me..”

She shivered, lifting her fingers from the weapon, so familiar to them, but yet unknown to her hand. The half-elf had taken it, a reminder of five foolish friends who had dared so much. Five, and four had lost all. No, not four, all five. Marietta stood, turning as if in a dream and walking towards her bedroom. Had they, really though? The doubt came to her sometimes, the desire to question what she had seen. Could it be that one of the others had… That was impossible, everything she knew denied it. “Curiosity is adamant,” whispered the past in the voice of the Red Lady.

Kneeling, she pressed her shoulder up against the post of her bed, letting out a soft grunt of effort as she shifted the furniture over to one side. Slender fingers played over the wooden floorboards, carefully picking out a loose board and lifting it. Her hand slipped down into the space revealed, dipping beneath the floor to the stone-lined cavity below. She drew forth a slender package of burlap folded about a slim, rectangular shape. Biting her lip, Marietta unfolded the sack, drawing out the contents to reveal a flash of silver atop an ebony case of some sort.

Delicately, the half-elf ran her fingers over the shape resting atop the ebony case, a leather cord that held a simple pendant of silver, a circle with a proud hart carefully inscribed upon it. Marietta swallowed, gently tracing the hart’s antlers with the tip of a finger, before lifting the cord and slowly hanging the pendant around her neck. She closed her eyes, shivering and letting out a sighing breath, tucking the pendant safely beneath her clothing and out of sight. Turning, she leaned against the bed, sitting and drawing her knees up, curling about the ebony case.

She had never opened it. From time to time she took it out and looked at it, ran her calloused hands over the fine grain lightly. When the memories were strongest, she even considered opening it, at long last disclosing its contents. In the end she always stopped herself, drew back from undoing the latch and lifting the lid. In a way, she knew without knowing what was in the box, and yet, to look, to give it definite form, to make it real… She couldn't do it, not until she knew for sure.

Hidden away in the bedroom of her shuttered house, the banked fire popping cheerfully in the main room, Marietta let go. She let the memories come, swamping her in a wave of salt that coursed down her cheeks as, for a little while, she gave herself over to the past.
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 59
12/31/2014 23:24:42   
Master K
Member

She snapped out of her dreamy haze with a start. It was nothing more than something her mind had crafted, but it was startlingly realistic, not to mention grim. She could hardly comprehend that she was back in her room at first. She shook her head, and looked down at where she left off in her book. She couldn't possibly continue reading just yet, not with this mysterious vision that had rattled her brain. It might be something, or it might be nothing.

"Istarelle...?" Marcelline thought. "I've never heard or seen such a person."

But how could she investigate? Where would she begin?

Wait, of course.

Kitsondra had all the dirt on everyone whose been in Blackwater. If this Istarelle was in Blackwater at any point, Kitsondra would have most likely grilled her for information. However, Marcelline feared at what she may or may not find out...

Leaving her room, she sought out Kitsondra. She was speaking to another man, who she recognized from the earlier ruckus. She felt somewhat bad for intruding, especially since this wasn't her conversation, and the fact that she may be plain well going crazy, but she needed to put her fears to rest. She needed to bury the frightening imagery of ashen corpses and desolate Darkwald, and Kitsondra would most likely to be the one to confirm or deconfirm it.

"Kitsondra." Marcelline said with intent. "The name Istarelle...does it sound familiar at all?"

There was a slight tinge of severity in her eyes.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 60
1/1/2015 0:42:31   
Draycos777
Member

As Kitsondra was head towards the stairs a familiar stench came up from behind her.

Tsk, it's him again isn't it? Sure enough, Kitsondra's nose was correct, although she wish it wasn't.

"Ms. Fon... I'm afraid I couldn't help overhear your conversation earlier. If you truly are an information broker, then perhaps we can help each other." "I have need of someone knowledgeable about this area to help me search for... something. I don't have any money, but perhaps we could work out an alternative arrangement. After we deal with the imminent threat of these 'Nazha', of course."

Kitsondra was about to find an excuse to turn him down in order to get away from the mind-numbing smell the magic in his blood was giving off, but them something happened that Kitsondra wasn't expecting.

"Kitsondra."

Kitsondra turned head head and saw Marcelline beside her.

"The name Istarelle...does it sound familiar at all?"

Kitsondra's mouth almost dropped, but she remembered that she was still around others. Turning back to the dirty man Kitsondra decided to accepted his question as this was more important.

"That's fine with me. After this business with the Nazha, come ask me your question and I'll answer it the best I can. As for payment...we'll leave it as you owing me one. Now if you'd excuse me, something important as just come up."

With that, Kitsondra grasped Marcelline by the hand and lead her by to her own room, since Kitsondra's door had been busted in and there'd be no privacy. Closing the door to Marcelline's room, Kitsondra turned to the girl.

"Where exactly did you hear that name?" Kitsondra's eyes softened when she saw the sincerity and wanting of an answer in the young girl's eyes. "Well, it doesn't matter either way. To answer your question yes, the name is familiar. Istarelle use to be a paladin. Use to being the key words."

Kitsondra sat down on the chair next to a desk in the room. "She was a normal, everyday Pally when she first came to Hallows Inn; smiting evil, the usual thing. However, one thing stood out about this girl. A demon had attached itself to her soul. Everytime I would bing it up with her, she would fiercely deny any such claims. Either, she was being willfully ignorant for the demon or she truely didn't know about it's existence. After awhile she stopped coming to the Inn, but I can still smell the sooty magic of the demon from time to time in the forest. The demon has no doubt taken over the mind and body of the paladin once know as Istarelle."

Kitsondra leaned forward and looked Marcelline in the eyes. "If you have some kind of business with Istarelle or with the demon." Kitsondra paused of a second, then continued. "Or if the demon called you. Don't go looking for her alone. At your current skill, if you were to do so, the is no doubt that you would not return as the same person....if you were to return at all that is. Even as strong as I am myself, I avoid demons at all costs. Nothing good ever comes from dealing with them. If the demon that has taken over Istarelle is indeed calling to you. Resist it, at least untill you are stronger and can hold you own against the creatures of the forest."

Saying that Kitsondra sat up. "You should get some rest, don't worry about it calling you again. Demons may be inpatient creatures, but they aren't dumb either. It knows that continually calling you won't work or help it's situation. There's a lot that will be happening mid-day and latter on tonight and you need to be ready."

Kitsondra opened the door and walked out and back into her room. Opening the dresser, Kitsondra searched through the books until she came across one with a certain bookmark in it. Pulling out the bookmark she walked back into Marcelline's room and handed it to her.

"If you're still worried about the demon, then use this. This bookmark as been enchanted with a powerful seal. The magic of the seal should interrupt the magic of the demon when it tries to call you. Keep that on your person when you sleep and you'll be fine."

With that Kitsondra headed back downstairs to Sloan.

Istarelle's Demon is try to call Marcelline to it. That is...troubling to say the least."

< Message edited by Draycos777 -- 1/1/2015 0:54:48 >
AQ  Post #: 61
1/1/2015 1:36:47   
Master K
Member

Istarelle was no dream. She was real. Istarelle was very real, and very dangerous, according to Kitsondra.

This woman that she was told to seek out turned out to be a demonic entity, taking hold of what was once a Paladin. Whatever this demon wanted, it wanted Marcelline's attention. Judging from Kitsondra's tone, this was definitely not something Marcelline should get involved with. The most unsettling part is that this woman had disappeared into Darkwald, never to be seen of again...besides the lingering scent of her demon. Tying in with her dream, she felt as though Istarelle was still wandering the woods, off the trail...indeed, she had become a reason to never stray off the main road.

Marcelline felt...quite uneasy. This demon had reached into her own mind, and produced a vivid vision of an ashen Darkwald, a macabre gathering, and the lingering sounds of an old fashioned music box. This demon was powerful, to the point where Kitsondra herself was fearful. The most unsettling part was knowing that Istarelle may very well still be out in Darkwald, and that Marcelline caught her attention.

"Resist it, at least untill you are stronger and can hold you own against the creatures of the forest."

The information broker had given her a great deal of knowledge, and even provided a ward to fight off the demon's influence over her dreams. The ward itself, was simply a book mark. The book mark was green in nature, and inscribed with various strange runes, cleverly woven in with the silver rose patterns. She felt safer holding it, feeling it might provide her sanctuary from Istarelle's visions. Perhaps on the off chance, it might have been a mistake, and the demon will move on to another person.

Marcelline tried to thank Kitsondra, but like a flash, she was gone again, off to do more business.

She sprawled across her bed, with the demon ward in hand, staring at the ceiling.

"A demon has called out to me. I don't know what it wants from me...and I don't know if I want to find it."

Flipping back over she tried to get comfortable again and resume reading her book. This time, she had the ward with her, and perhaps the gumption to not fall asleep in the middle of her reading.

< Message edited by Master K -- 1/1/2015 1:37:11 >
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 62
1/1/2015 6:43:26   
Bastet
Member

The spirit chuckled mysteriously, entertained at how the situation had switched so quickly from an all-out fight to peaceful conversations.

These people really are quite interesting, I wonder how long Toren’s group will last. Who knows who will be the first to be stabbed in the back.

The stairs’ hard wood wasn’t too comfortable of a seat, but Symphony felt like they had a duty to guard the safety of the nearby magical creatures. Besides, playing music was distracting enough from the discomfort.
They listened to what they could hear of the conversations being carried out, amused.

There was no trace of the Northern witch hunter, he could’ve still been outside. He was as dangerous as ever, and Symphony didn’t dare to leave their spot. Fortunately, the vampire finally unshackled herself from the people seeking her attention and walked towards her original destination: the stairs.

The bard continued playing their music as Kitsondra approached, timing their music with the rhythm of their steps. They wondered what the vampire would say, and then spoke to her as she finally reached the staircase. Symphony’s voice was gentle, soothing, playful.

“I was about to intervene, but I’m glad you are more than capable of defending yourself. Still, you can’t be careful enough with those magic-killers around. Don’t worry, though, I’ll always stand on the side of those whose very essence is magical in nature. I think we set off on the wrong foot, vampire. We could help each other.”

< Message edited by Bastet -- 1/1/2015 9:23:29 >
Post #: 63
1/1/2015 9:11:55   
Legendium
Member

Heinrich had just been about to take the shot when an unexpected visitor dropped in, quite literally, from above.
The black clad-figure wrenched his crossbow out of the way just as the stake went flying, now pointed nowhere useful. Heinrich was relieved - a moment sooner and the stake would've gone into the wrong heart, and Heinrich was no murderer.

All this went through Heinrich's head before the unexpected visitor spoke. She brought her face close to his; too close for comfort.

"What do you believe you are doing, little man?"

Heinrich hadn't understood much of it, but little? That was a first. Especially considering her own size. He was a giant compared to her. Heinrich got a better look at her now that she was closer. Her hair was short and blonde, freckles speckled her face and her eyes were almost pure black. More interestingly, she had white scars spreading out like lightning across her hands and arms. Even more interesting, she had a very uncommon magic lingering on her - luck magic. It had an interesting smell, like liquefied gold and other precious metals. Even more bizarre, he felt a slow, yet tangible, passive influx of magic into his reservoir; apparently, she had some kind of aura magic that worked on people in the vicinity. Heinrich hadn't come into contact with many types of this magic, so couldn't tell much else.

Just then, before Heinrich could answer, something happened in the vampire's room. Apparently Sorlan had no attitude for subtlety; he had broken down the door and was now under the vampire's spell. Idiot. Well, the whole attack had been botched now anyways and any advantage they may have had would be gone. Killing the vampire would have to be for another day, unfortunately, due to this rude interruption.

"Uhh, jaegen. Vampir. In there." Heinrich pointed to the vampire's room. It was currently addressing a crowd gathered outside it's door.

Heinrich really didn't know what to say. The bizarre appearance of some gold-smelling kid had him at a loss for words and unfortunately the truth was what came tumbling out. Not that he could convincingly lie his way out of THIS situation anyways. Especially with his language skills. And his distaste for lies in general.

Getting over his initial shock, he added "Und was think YOU are doing hier?" ("And what do YOU think you're doing here?")


< Message edited by Legendium -- 1/2/2015 4:52:18 >
DF MQ Epic  Post #: 64
1/1/2015 10:50:57   
Draycos777
Member

As Kitsondra headed down the stairs, she ran into the spirit bard. It was sitting on the wooden stairs and had just canceled a spell by the smell in the air. It spoke as Kitsondra drew closer.

“I was about to intervene, but I’m glad you are more than capable of defending yourself. Still, you can’t be careful enough with those magic-killers around. Don’t worry, though, I’ll always stand on the side of those whose very essence is magical in nature. I think we set off on the wrong foot, vampire. We could help each other.”

Kitsondra looked amusingly at the guitar in the spirit's hands. "An odd form of magic you seem to take up, spirit. However it's not the first time a witch-hunter has tried to take me out, so I'm normally well prepared for such encounters." Kitsondra turned her head back in the direction of the downed man. "Yet, normally they take a more subtly approach."

Turning her attention back to the bard, who had called themselves Symphony when they were downstairs. "Symphony, was it? I would prefer it if you were to call me by my name, instead of my race. I'm sure you can understand why. Kitsondra or Ms. Fon, whichever you like."

At that moment, Kitsondra sensed something that she really didn't like.

"Idiotic guards. Can't they even down one common, half-dead vampire without letting it get away? I'm going to have to ask Gallund to train his men better. Or at least train men capable of doing the job right the first time around."

"I am interest in what you want in Blackwater now. You don't seem like the everyday spirit we see around these parts, now that I'm right infront of you. However, something has just come up, so I must continue this conversion another time."

Continuing down the stairs Kitsondra was tempted to speak with Sloan about her broken door first, but walked on past him and to the Inn door. The door will have to wait. This was more important. She couldn't risk him getting away and coming back with help. All supernatural creatures are notorious for coming back with help if you don't kill them after beating them; even ones that normally roam solo.

Walking out the front of the Inn, Kitsondra walked in the direction the wind carried the stench of blood.



"So, where do you believe your going to in such a rush?"

The vampire jumped in place as it tried to escape this cursed town. The voice made the stomach it was currently clutching at curl. It was after all the voice that had recently stabbed the vampire and left it for dead. Turning around slowly the vampire added a body and face to the voice. It was indeed her.

Kitsondra had tracked the vampire, near Coraline's house, as it tried to enter into the forest and disappear. Making sure no one was following her, Kitsondra went up and confronted the vampire. Out of fear, from recent events, the vampire backstepped into a tree when it saw her.

"It seems as though, I'll have to deal with you myself." Kitsondra nonchalantly cleaned dirt from her fingertips. "Though, even for a traveling vampire, such as yourself, one would think it odd that in the thirty years I've been around this town, and the ten that I've been a resident, not a single one of the townsfolk as been harmed by an action of mine." Kitsondra looked the vampire in the eyes as if she was staring down a rabbit she had just caught in a trap.

"And yet, the vampire population in the forest and been reduced to just about nothing."

The vampire started to become angry. Was she planing on talking it to death this time? Or was it really so weak she was mocking it before she killed them? Either way, the vampire only had one choice if it wanted to live, and it best bet was to do it while she was busy monologuing to him. Lunging out at the women, the vampire tried to make a break for it.

Kitsondra was unimpressed by it's attack. Even though already weakened, it's attack was so slow there was no point in even trying to block or dodge it. Kitsondra caught it's wist with her left hand, as her right shot up to grab the vampire's neck. Her fingers clutching their prize as the palm of her hand made contact. Kitsondra eyes narrowed and became ice cold.

"You know, with my level of magic, human blood does nothing to replenish me. Most humans don't have a drop of magic in their blood, which is unfortunate since I need magic in the blood I drink in order for it to do anything for me. But, people adept and I resorted to the best thing available to me." Kitsondra leaned forward. She could feel the sweat building on the neck of the vampire she had trapped. It struggled to get free, but in it's weaken state and with Kitsondra strength holding on to it, the vampire could go no where.

"It only makes sense. I was built by a hunting order to crush other supernatural creatures after all. Question: have you ever wondered what it was like to have happen to you the same you do to those you kill?"

Kitsondra's crimson eyes glowed and her canines grew larger as she moved her mouth down to the base of the vampire's neck.

"Well then, it turns out your in luck."

As Kitsondra bit down, the muscles in her mouth went to work. Acting like a pump vacuum, it pulled in the gushing blood into tiny holes in her fangs. After draining the vampire dry, she tossed the body into the forest for whatever animal decided to wander by for a free meal.

Making sure no one was around, Kitsondra headed back to the Inn to talk with Sloan about the broken door.

"What an awfully lacking meal." She commented to herself as she walked in the shadows.

< Message edited by Draycos777 -- 1/1/2015 12:06:15 >
AQ  Post #: 65
1/1/2015 23:42:58   
  Gingkage
Wolf Rider


 Sera breathed a sigh of relief as she finally put down the last piece of her equipment that needed maintenance. It had taken a little longer than she'd hoped, but all of her equipment was again in good condition.

"Though I'll need to purchase more arrows soon," she thought, glancing at her quiver. As little as she used her bow, she could go for long stretches at a time without needing to replenish her arrow supply. But her quiver could hold twenty arrows and she was down to fifteen. And she suspected she'd go through at least a few of them before the Nazha were defeated. Fortunately, arrows weren't expensive. Unlike her blades. Good quality blades were difficult to purchase if she lost or damaged them beyond repair. So far she'd been lucky in that respect. In ten years, she had only had to replace two of her throwing knives and her sword. An assignment gone wrong a few years ago had completely destroyed them. She'd managed to complete the job, but it had been difficult. She had a few nasty scars on her stomach and back from that battle.

Glancing at the sun, she groaned in annoyance. There was time to sleep, yes, but not much, and she had never done well with afternoon naps. They always slowed her mind for a little over an hour after waking up. No. Better to stay awake and suffer through the day. There would be time enough to sleep tomorrow.

Wearing all of her armor and having her weapons on her person seemed a little silly when she wasn't planning on doing any fighting before dusk. But she didn't want to have to take the time later that might be better used preparing for the upcoming fight, so she took the few moments to equip herself before heading back down the stairs, sidestepping the musician and making her way to a table.

Later that day she would probably walk around the town. It would give her something to do if nothing else. For the time being, though, she contented herself with water and idly watching anyone who entered.

Remembering that Kitsondra's door had been broken, she decided she would at least stay long enough to see Sloan's reaction to it. If nothing else, she wanted to be absolutely certain he was aware of her involvement - specifically the lack of it - in that altercation. She paid good money for that room upstairs, and she planned on taking advantage of the bed at least once before having to leave.

In the back of her mind, she entertained the slight hope that her new 'allies' would make an appearance. She wasn't keen on talking with any of them, but she wanted to try and get a feel for them. The thief - whatever he called himself, a thief was still a thief in her mind - in particular she wanted to try and read. Bad enough having to work with people that might one day have a bounty on them (and knowing about Kitsondra's bounty was still unsettling, even if she had resolved that it wasn't one she would accept). Working with one who already had a history of wrong-doing was horrible.

She didn't always hate working with others. In fact, when she had started out she preferred it. There was safety in numbers, after all, and every human craved companionship in some form. Joining up with small groups of people for a job and then going their separate ways when the task was done was a good system for her.

Then a client had approached her. A man had been taking assignments, much like her own, and then demanding prices well beyond what was warranted. She was requested to bring him in - alive if possible - so that his thieving could be put to an end and the money he had stolen from them returned. After she had accepted, a piece of paper with the man's name and picture was placed in front of her and the blood rushed from her face. She almost turned around and said she couldn't do it at the sight. Theron Sephtis. She'd worked with this man. Many times. She'd always wondered why he would linger longer than need be after a job was over, but it wasn't her business. This was what he was doing? Deciding that fair trade was beneath him and demanding more payment? It was sickening to her. But at the same time she had trusted him with her life, and he had trusted her with his. They worked well together. Not only would that make the job more difficult as they knew each other's fighting styles, strengths, and weaknesses, but it felt like a betrayal to take this job.

"If I hadn't been in need of coin, I wouldn't have accepted it." It was the one job she had never forgiven herself for taking. But she had. And the long and difficult battle with him had nearly killed her in more ways than one. But at the end of the day she had managed to bring him in alive and accepted her blood money. She left immediately afterwards and had never returned to that town.

Sera closed her eyes at the unpleasant memory and deliberately turned her thoughts to better assignments. Or at least less painful ones. The job on Theron had been enough to sour her towards working with anyone else, but she was a professional. Her personal preferences wouldn't interfere with her skills. She would just have to be wary that she didn't form any attachments to these people.

"Not that that will be an problem." The thought was surprisingly bitter, even in the privacy of her mind. And even more surprisingly, it was painful. But it was also true. She kept to herself, and went out of her way to make herself as close to unapproachable as she could be and not turn away potential clients. It worked. No one ever really talked to her unless they needed something, the few social interactions she'd had being exceptions rather than the rule.

Sighing, she got another order of water and resolved to not let herself go so long without sleeping. It apparently messed with her thoughts.
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 66
1/2/2015 1:21:41   
Zephyrial
Member

Well, that went better than expected.

For a moment - many moments, in fact - Kenet was almost certain that Kitsondra was going to refuse his request. Despite the fact that he had not done her any injury as far as he knew, he could not shake the feeling that she viewed him with distaste, as one would a corpse or pile of vomit. He knew that his appearance was not that inviting, but the animosity she gave off was disproportionate. Once again he considered the possibility that she was aware of his... difference, but since the subject had not arose, he decided that it could not be so. As it was, she acquiesced, albeit in a rather non-committal manner. In fact, he was almost certain that she agreed by mistake, distracted as she was by the witch's query. The moment she heard the word 'Istarelle', she formed much the same look of shock as she had given him the first time they encountered one-another, before grasping the girl's hand and dragging her bodily into another room down the hallway. Somewhat shell-shocked, Kenet stood quietly in place for a few beats, trying to decide whether he should be pleased or not.

I suppose that's the best I'm going to get. It's true that I haven't really proven interesting in any way as of yet, so it's not surprising that she's unwilling. I'm going to have to reveal some things eventually, however...

The question, now, was: what to do with his time? If the Man from Downstairs, Toren, spoke true, then they would first encounter the Nazha at a specific time, and at a specific place. Somehow he doubted that the terrifying creatures he had described would be so predictable, but in the absence of any disturbance it seemed likely that nothing would happen for the rest of the day. For now, he headed back to his room. Footsteps echoed along the hallway as strange feet carried strange people downstairs. Slumping on his bed, he he toyed with the idea of remaining in his room until morning, but eventually decided to head downstairs himself instead. In spite of the overwhelming nature of these recent events, sequestering himself away would do him no good. If he was to survive this, and discover as much as he could about the Darkwald, he would need to know his new-found allies. Heaving himself to his feet, he traversed the hallway, stepping delicately over the shards of wood that now littered the carpet, and found himself back in the main room.

The crowd had thinned out somewhat - perhaps scared away by the violent sounds above their heads, or perhaps by the proclamations of the mysterious Toren and his charge. The two in question were nowhere to be seen, but Kenet did spot one familiar face: the huntress who had joined him in the hall during the earlier ruckus. For her part, she did not seem in the mood to receive questions - with a haggard expression, she nursed a glass of water like a regretful drunk, casting a baleful eye about the room. Even so, he decided to take the risk and address her. if nothing else, she appeared to know the enigmatic Ms. Fon on a personal level. Perhaps he could get a little information out of her - not that it would help much, now that he had already proposed a contract. He decided that the polite approach would not wash with this woman, so instead he was direct, businesslike. He had no desire to be torn into as Toren had. Striding up, he took a seat at her table without a word, and gave her a hard, but not aggressive, stare.

"Pardon me - Sera, was it? My name is Kenet. I am just a wanderer... but I seem to have been caught up in this affair regardless, as have you. I am a visitor to the Darkwald, but you seem to have roots here. I would be very grateful if you could give me something of a crash course in the Darkwald and this town, particularly relating to the size and environments found in the forest... and about Ms. Fon." He stretched his back and rubbed the back of his head with a nonchalant air. "I apologise for the intrusion, but since we are to be fighting together, willing or not, I believe it would be a practical idea for me to gain some knowledge of this place. Would you agree?"

Once again, he awaited a response from one who did not wish to speak with him, regarding subjects they probably did not wish to discuss. He still held out hope, however - after all, this was not the first time he had been forced to search for information in unwelcome surroundings. From sea to shining sea, he had spent years moving between endless forests, buying, working, or wheedling his way into the information he so desperately sought. Time and time again he had come up with nothing, but his will never dimmed. He treated every opportunity as if it were the last, as if the secrets of his past were just around the next corner... Though the going may be rough, nothing would stop him from laying the Darkwald bare in search of that fateful cave, and there were no lengths to which he would not go to do so. Unbidden, his hand snaked into his breast and he found himself grasping his pendant - the sole reminder of his past, other than memories, which he possessed. Its cool surface calmed him...

A peculiar forest requires peculiar people. I pray that I will not have to become acquainted with too many.

< Message edited by Zephyrial -- 1/2/2015 1:26:38 >
Post #: 67
1/2/2015 8:35:57   
  Gingkage
Wolf Rider


 Sera bit back the irritated sound that rose to her throat when her thoughts and privacy were both shattered by the strange man from earlier. Though she couldn't help the wary expression in her eyes before the cool mask of professionalism slipped over her face.

"Pardon me - Sera, was it? My name is Kenet. I am just a wanderer... but I seem to have been caught up in this affair regardless, as have you. I am a visitor to the Darkwald, but you seem to have roots here. I would be very grateful if you could give me something of a crash course in the Darkwald and this town, particularly relating to the size and environments found in the forest... and about Ms. Fon." A pause as he rubbed the back of his neck and tried to seem nonchalant. Then he continued. "I apologise for the intrusion, but since we are to be fighting together, willing or not, I believe it would be a practical idea for me to gain some knowledge of this place. Would you agree?"

"He talks pretty for a vagabond," she thought with some amusement, though it didn't slip through her façade.

She could have answered. At least in part. But this man had disturbed her and didn't even have the decency to ask if she wanted the company. And with as ill at ease as he made her, she definitely didn't want to have any casual conversation with him.

"Sera. No matter how much you want to, you can never be rude to a potential trade partner." Her mother's advice came to mind unbidden. She was fourteen and had been sharp with a small family that her mother wanted to trade goods with. She had almost cost her mother that trade but the reprimand hadn't been harsh. It was little more than a mild rebuke, though she knew that if she dared do that again, her mother would have her hide. Grimacing internally, she picked up her drink and took a long sip of it, before finally setting it down and turning her attention towards the intruder.

"You're asking the wrong person if you want to know the ins and outs of the forest," she said simply. "I believe I mentioned this earlier, but I'm a nomad. As in I have no ties to any one place. I'm only here now because it was in the path of my travels. I know no more than what I've heard. Stay on the path, and it almost always rains.

"As for Kitsondra Fon, you probably know as much as I do by now. She's an information broker. And if you're getting involved with her, then you're likely desperate. No one goes to brokers if there's another option. I've never been desperate enough to need her aid, so there's little I can tell you."

After a moment's pause, she spoke again, this time in a marginally less annoyed way. "If you want information - about anything - Sloan is probably your best bet. I've been through many towns, and in my experience very few people know more about anything remotely involving the town than innkeepers. They see everything, after all. Besides, near as I can tell, Kitsondra lives here. Sloan'll know her better than anyone else. If the guards are feeling charitable, they might tell you about the forest." Charitable. Ha. That would be the day. There were a couple decent folk there, but in her experience, town guards were by and large interchangeable with each other. Bullies with an over-inflated sense of self-worth. You wanted something from them? Sure. Maybe if you groveled enough, they would deign to help you.

The evening guard wasn't so bad. At least not to her. The song and dance of 'Who are you and what are you doing here?' aside, they were decent enough folk. But at this time of day? She only dealt with the day time guards when she absolutely had to. And then she made her business as short as possible.
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 68
1/2/2015 17:20:26   
Riprose123
Member

At his exclamation of the vampire, Maria extinguished her hands with a feint fwoosh, letting go of his crossbow and turning to look through the window, trusting the man not to attack her when her back was turned. She spotted Kitsondra easily, and as one eyebrow arched thoughtfully, a soft, mischievous smile formed on her face. She tucked that knowledge away, since, if the odd man was right, it could be of use later, if need be. Maria quietly began to catalogue all she knew about vampires, counting the facts off on her hands. As she finished, she pulled her hood back from her face, her eyes shifting from coal black to a soft, intelligent green, much like the leaves of the tree they sat in. She smiled at the man as he asked what she was doing, amused by his thick accent.

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

Maria smiled wolfishly at the man, her pixie like face making the expression seem strange and outlandish on her face. As her thoughts danced at the sight of this wonderful, human interaction, she became aware of the slight chance of what this encounter may produce. Her mind backtracked quickly, before being abruptly blocked by another part of her, the part that hated the isolated life she led. They wrestled together for a few tenuous seconds, until, finally, her mind was subjected to the will of that other part of her, reasoning that it was much to late to not interact with this man.

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

Not wanting to be rude, Maria extended her arm with childlike giddiness, leaning lightly against a nearby branch, "My name is Maria, by the way. It's always proper to exchange names upon first meeting."
DF MQ  Post #: 69
1/2/2015 18:11:49   
Tdub
Member

"Good, we need survivors in this fight."

And that was that. With a grin on his face, the man moved on, leaving Lock and Howard Philips alone. Philips was the first to move, taking Lock's arm and sitting him at a table, his mischievous smile still plastered in his face.

"I'll be leaving you now. Be sure to have fun, and come back alive.... If you can." Laughing heartily, the man walked away, leaving Lock to himself. The room was alive with conversations and whispers, and the warrior was still taking volunteers. Suddenly, the mood changed, and the man was explaining the nature of the so-called enemy they were meant to fight. The description was chilling, describing monsters beyond what the strongest warrior could hope to defeat. Let alone a boy with a pair of knives.

Castor and Pollux had been returned to him. He wasn't sure when, or how, but the belt was in his hand, as if he had never let go of it. Must have been Philips. As he put it on, Lock made his decision on the subject. No matter what Philips could do to him, it was nothing compared to the Nazha. He would find a way out, leave, do whatever it took, to escape. He'd escape into the forest and be in his shelter before nightfall. At the break of dawn, he'd move farther out, finding a less dangerous forest to reside. But under no circumstances was he ever going to face a Nazha.

It was then that he heard a conversation at the table next to his. The greedy woman from before had been sitting there, but she had been joined by a man introducing himself as Kenet. Lock recognized him as one of the volunteers. He asked about Darkwald, and Lock strained to listen to the conversation. Obviously, the woman, Sera, knew nothing about Lock's home. After a brief conversation, she told Kenet to ask Sloan, the man who had spoken briefly to him earlier. Suddenly, an idea came to Lock, and he got up, walking toward the pair.

"How badly do you want to know about the forest, wanderer?" Lock stood near Kenet, unsure as to whether or not he should sit. "I've lived in the Darkwald my entire life. I'd be willing to give up a few of its secrets, if you'd be willing to do something for me."

He glanced at Sera, and suddenly realized he had barged in on a conversation that may have wanted to remain private. As an afterthought, he spoke to the woman. "Sorry to interrupt."
Post #: 70
1/2/2015 18:34:32   
  Gingkage
Wolf Rider


 "This must be the day of unwelcomed social interactions by rude people," Sera thought as the thief decided to invite himself into her personal space. And yet again it was the strange man - Kenet - who was at fault. Deciding that dealing with it would be the quickest way to escape - and the only reason she didn't just leave was that she had an ale coming her way and she wanted to drink it first - was to simply endure and allow others to take on the role of being social. There would likely be a point in the conversation of the others where she could quietly slip away unnoticed.

"Not at all," she said, hoping she sounded friendlier than she felt as she waved a hand in the general direction of one of the chairs.

Besides, she was curious as to the price this thief would demand of Kenet in exchange of secrets being told about the forest. And if she sat and listened, she could potentially gain knowledge as well. And no one with any small amount of intelligence was fool enough to turn down that sort of opportunity.

"How does someone live in the Darkwald?" She'd been told that straying from the path lead to almost certain death. So how did he manage to survive? She highly doubted he meant that he lived on or even near the path, after all. There was a story to be learned here if he deigned to tell it. Or if she worked up the patience and social skills to ask.

Another point of interest was the knives at his waist. If the blades were even half as good of a quality as the belt was - and the belt was of a decent quality even if she had seen better - then they were made of good steel. It was possible that he'd stolen them, yes, but weapon thieves tended to be caught and the weapons taken. If he still had his knives, then he was either too good to get caught, or they were his by right. And given the fact that he had been dragged in unceremoniously, she highly doubted it was the former.

"So we have an interesting person in this thief. He's lived in the place said to be impossible to survive if you stray, and he has what I'd wager are some very pretty blades." Sera almost hoped he tried something and gave her a reason to pursue him. Any excuse to figure out the puzzle that was this very intriguing person.

On the other hand, if he tried something now the odds of successfully pursuing him and still returning in time to fulfill her contract weren't very high. She knew just how strong an advantage being in this man's home gave him. Better to pursue him if needed when there wasn't a deadline hanging over her head. Better still if he simply told his story - which he might in order to explain how he came to live in the Darkwald - and used his knives at some point so she could see if they were as good as she suspected them to be.

< Message edited by Gingkage -- 1/2/2015 18:35:16 >
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 71
1/2/2015 19:16:16   
Draycos777
Member

After Kitsondra finished washing and drying her face at the Stone River, her entered the Inn to an interesting scene. Sera was sitting at a table with quite the unpleasant look on her face, while joined by Kenet and the thief. Kitsondra had to take a small pause after closing the door to keep from laughing. However this was a rare chance to talk to Sera, and one Kitsondra wasn't about to pass up. The Sun had 'risen', though thanks to the thick canopy of the Darkwald trees you'd never know unless you lived here. More people had entered the bar of the Inn, so hopefully if she stayed downstairs she wouldn't have to worry about another attack. Kitsondra thought about her smashed door.

"Then again you never know with their kind..."

Kitsondra walked up to the group and pulled a chair. "Mind if I join in?" Asking with a smile, she sat down, between the thief and Sera, before any objections could be spoken anyways.

Trying hard not to breath in the magical stink of Kenet, Kitsondra noticed Sera's eyes directed towards something on the thief. Following her line-of-sight Kitsondra saw two, seemingly well-made, knives.

Kitsondra grinned to herself. Hopefully that was just what she need to get Sera to open up. If she remembered correctly, Sera was a knife user herself. If it didn't work, at the least she might be able to know a little about the owner of the knives.

"Maybe, just maybe I might be able to read your mind a bit. Here goes nothing."

"Hey Sera, have you had a chance to visit Hallr the blacksmith yet? Heard he got ahold of a knife from the central Plains two months ago; kunai, I think he called it. He should have made his first batch by now. You know anything about them? If not it wouldn't hurt to go look I guess."

Of course it was Kitsondra who showed it to him, but she didn't have to worry about him saying that to anyone. He is the kind that are much to proud to let anyone know they got help with something. He'd rather tell a long winded story about how he was the that found the weapon, and he was the one that made them all by himself. Those kind of people are much easier to work with since its much easier to control them.

"Speaking of knives," Kitsondra turned to the thief, Lockwood. "Those two on your side look pretty impressive. Any story to them?"

< Message edited by Draycos777 -- 1/2/2015 19:21:00 >
AQ  Post #: 72
1/2/2015 19:38:26   
  Gingkage
Wolf Rider


 Sera's mood had gone from irritated, to annoyed, to murderous in a very short period of time. Coincidentally, her mood had changed every time someone sat down or approached her table uninvited.

She had thought that Kitsondra had more tact than to ask to join a table and then sit down without bothering to see if they did in fact mind. Apparently she had thought wrong as Kitsondra placed herself directly in her personal space.

Taking a steadying drink of her ale, she held onto her mask of professionalism for all she was worth. She was not going to lose her temper. She prided herself on her self-control and she wasn't going to show just how downright murderous she was.

If she was lucky, Kitsondra simply wanted something of one of the other -

"Hey Sera, have you had a chance to visit Hallr the blacksmith yet? Heard he got ahold of a knife from the central Plains two months ago; kunai, I think he called it. He should have made his first batch by now. You know anything about them? If not it wouldn't hurt to go look I guess."

And immediately Kitsondra decided to pester her. Lovely. As if her mood wasn't bad enough as it was, Kitsondra, the one person she went out of her way to not interact with was bothering her for no apparent - did she just mention a new knife?

Sera was interested. More than that, she was down-right curious and half of her wanted to jump up from the table and check out this new knife right away. But she didn't. Because while she wasn't an expert on any language - that was her mother's department - she knew enough about body language to know that it could give away every secret you had without you saying a word. If she jumped up, she would be giving the broker information.

On the other hand, her mother had more than once convinced someone to trade for an item that she could tell the person wanted but wouldn't admit based on their lack of reaction, so determinedly not moving could very well give her away just as easily as jumping up to investigate.

Sera wasn't an actress. She was a lot of things, but the ability to convincingly act was not a skill she possessed. Her only real skill was her professional mask which betrayed nothing in either face or tone. Though people from her childhood who knew her also knew her well enough to know that if she was being determinedly professional, she was hiding something. She clutched that little skill she had like a lifeline and prayed it was enough, gambling that Kitsondra's lack of knowledge about her would be enough for her to pull this off. She didn't jump up. But she also didn't determinedly not move, either. She took a drink, relaxed in her chair and tried to look like someone who was perfectly fine where they were.

"Interesting," she said in that same noncommittal voice from earlier. "I'll probably take a look later. If someone else has these weapons, I need to know what they're like in case they're used against me." Professional. She was a professional. Looking at this new knife was a matter of business. Nothing more, nothing less. She most definitely was not almost painfully curious about a potential new toy. Maybe if she pretended hard enough, she'd believe it herself. She hoped so. Because her only hope of getting out of this without giving everything away was to bluff like crazy and hope that her lack of connections pulled her through.

She breathed a mental sigh of relief when Kitsondra turned her claws onto the thief, though. The less attention paid to her, the better.
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 73
1/2/2015 20:17:58   
Bastet
Member

Kitsondra had shot off after a brief conversation, but Symphony appreciated nonetheless the fact that they had had an occasion to speak with the vampire. The promise she made, that they would continue the interrupted conversation, was more than the spirit had originally hoped for.
Before anyone else could approach them, they decided to stand up and exit the tavern for a breath of fresh air. As they proceeded towards the outside, they happened to notice that the bounty hunter, the survivor, and the wanderer were getting acquainted with each other. For the moment they didn’t matter to the bard, even though they were going to be part of those who would’ve defended the town. They were still quite a funny bunch, with the bounty hunter’s annoyance not escaping the spirit’s gaze.
Symphony finally reached the door they were looking for, and Sloan still looked like he hadn’t bothered to check the aftermath of the confrontation that happened upstairs.

Better for me, I won’t have to explain anything.

A fair few more villagers were now walking the streets of Blackwater, a noticeable increase from the few stragglers from earlier. The spirit appreciated the chilled breeze that hit them as they walked around the building, looking for something worthy of notice. They could feel a strange presence looming over them, yet its nature couldn’t be grasped by the guitar player.
Turning a corner, they heard a fair amount of movement come from a tree rooted in front of some of the Inn’s rooms.
It looked like they had finally found out where the other witch hunter had gone.

“How did you know Kitsondra is a vampire, and for that matter, who are you, to take it upon yourself to kill, well, one of them?"

Symphony quietly chuckled and sat on a tree stump, close to the conversing tree-men. Their guitar was back into playing position, and it wasn’t long before a soothing tune was heard by those near to them. The bard appreciated how well their sonata complemented the atmosphere of Blackwater’s morning.

"My name is Maria, by the way. It's always proper to exchange names upon first meeting."

Oh, good. Now I’ll have one less explanation to give about why I know names I shouldn’t.

The spirit grinned, and spoke. No doubt they would’ve caught them both by surprise.

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

After speaking, they directed a nervous gaze towards the forest. There definitely was something out there, and it looked to be interested in the musical spirit.
Post #: 74
1/2/2015 21:40:36   
Zephyrial
Member

Well, that went worse than expected.

Kenet wasn't sure whether he'd misjudged Sera's familiarity with the area, (although Kitsondra had stated that she'd been here for eight years) or whether the woman simply did not desire to share any secrets. Either way, she brushed him off with an irritated expression on her face, although she did posit that asking the innkeeper might bear more fruit. Kenet sensed he had offended her with his forthrightness. Perhaps under that spiny exterior, she was more personable than he had thought...? With a nod, he tempered his aggressive approach as he thanked her for her aid. They then settled into a stony silence. No more information was forthcoming. But just as he was about to give up hope, he heard a voice from behind. He turned- the thief, now returned from his brief trip to the inn floor! Exhibiting a complete lack of social mores - something Kenet could appreciate - he made a counter-offer, proposing the traditional vagabond's trade of information for services. Kenet gave him a quick once-over, taking in his wiry figure and ornate knife-belt.

Well. This man is probably even less trustworthy than Kitsondra, and she's pretty damned untrustworthy! However, he is at least willing - it's quite refreshing to be approached by someone offering information for once.

With an indulgent smile, he rotated in his chair to face the new arrival. "Well, Master Thief, I've never turned down an opportunity to exchange actions for information. I don't have money to pay you, but I'm sure I can do something to help you with whatever problems you may have. However, I feel I should inform you that I've already proposed a similar arrangement with Ms Fon-"

Just then, as if summoned by his words, the woman in question approached with that ever-capricious air of hers. Asking for an invitation but neglecting to wait for one, she settled herself as far from Kenet as humanly possible. Again? What is this? However, she paid him no mind, instead turning her attentions towards Sera - who looked about ready to kill or die, or both - and thence to the thief who had just joined them. Thankfully, it seemed that she had not heard him attempt to undercut their contract by enlisting the services of another... and he prayed that the thief had at least enough tact to not to immediately mention it. As Kitsondra rambled on about knives, quite clearly with the intention of courting the interest of the other two at the table, Kenet shot the thief what he hoped was an informative glare, willing him not to speak. Whoever this woman was underneath, he had no desire to invite her wrath by acting unprofessionally.

These were dangerous people he was toying with, he realised. This would not be an easy forest to investigate.

< Message edited by Zephyrial -- 1/2/2015 21:41:50 >
Post #: 75
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