| Fable |

[Elle Joyner]

INTRO
location | outside mulgrave || time | early morning
date | 114th of Harvest || weather | abysmal rain​

Our Quest Begins …

You awake at a tavern in the small hamlet of Corbin, on the outskirts of the city of Mulgrave. It is the 114th day of Harvest. Whatever twist of fate or design of chance brought you here, it is the rain that keeps you. Three days of endless downpour darken the skies and flood out the main route from Mulgrave onward. The tavern itself has been accommodating - it's hardly your fault, after all, that you're stuck here - but it's crowded, and rumor has it the supplies are running dangerously low to account for all the guests. What coin you had in your purse has dwindled, and you aren't entirely unconvinced that last night's dinner wasn't scurrying across your floor the night before.

That morning, you lumber down to the main room, and find it teeming with patrons, the air stagnant with the scent of sweat, pipe smoke and steadily brewing hostility. Somewhere among the throng, music plays, but in a cacophony of sound, it more closely resembles the strident warbling of gulls. A table sits in the corner - already occupied, but you meander to it, because nothing else appears open. Upon sitting down, you join six other patrons and a bright orange tabby cat, curled precariously beneath one of the chairs. At first glance, these six appear to hail from all walks of life and look to share your weariness with their circumstances. You open your mouth, begrudgingly, to introduce yourself, when suddenly, a shout erupts from the doorway. While piddling few in the irate crowd seems to take note, it pierces like a bolt, rippling through the crowd, a man's panicked voice reaching your ears…

"Help! Someone! Please… My cart… the mud! It's overturned… my kid… my kid is stuck! Please!"​

TAGS || @Mobley Eats , @CloudyBlueDay , @DarinValore , @KatSea , @Toogee , @WingWong

 

[Mobley Eats]

Grimm | Location: Mulgrave Tavern | Interactions: Mithras & Whole Group

​

Traveling was one of many necessary evils in the world. Yet, it brought joy to some, a wave of wonder and exciting whenever they journeyed through newly discovered lands. Traveling was, above all else, an oxymoron.

Of course, no matter which philosophical approach was taken, Grimm just wished he could teleport.

Or fly. He'd gladly settle for that as well; it'd be a far better gain than what the tree left him behind. Speaking of flight, he slowed to a stop in the middle of a muddied trail, the drizzle from before having evolved into an aggressive downpour and weighing down his hooded coat. His raven mask tilted to the sky weeping above, catching flickers of her companion in the trees. Of course, Mithras wasn't stagnant. She hated being still for too long. She swiftly fluttered ahead from tree to tree, branch to branch, scouting the general area in case of hostiles.

But, as far as they were both concerned, only the impending weather posed as a threat. Slowly, Grimm raised his arm. That's enough for now, Mithras. There was a flap of the wings, then the raven perched herself on the extended limb, her little form trembling in equal parts annoyance and biting chill.

About time, her complaint echoed through Grimm's skull, Gods, what I wouldn't give to settle down somewhere dry.

A hint of guilt twisted Grimm's gut. I'm sorry... We can stop soon. There's a tavern close by and I'm sure Mulgrave won't be a bad place to hole up for a while.

Judging by the ever so slight lilt of Mithras's tone, she was pleased upon hearing this. Her beak rapped twice against Grimm's masked temple. Now you're speaking my language.

Did I squawk? Odd, I don't quite recall--

You're not funny. Ass.

Clearly, that's Mithras Speak for yes--I'm very funny. Mithras didn't need to contemplate whether or not a playful grin rested behind the mask. Annoyed, the little raven just curled more into the man's shoulder, nestling as deeply into the crook of his neck as she could. Anything to gather some warmth. Grimm opened his head and let her shimmy inside. There... Stay bundled up. We'll get there in no time.

With a grouchy caw from Mithras, Grimm continued on.

---

Day two of this insufferable rainfall and, against all of Grimm's expectations, the weather's worsened. He never intended to be trapped in the tavern but, alas, he was never one to complain about fate. Not for too long, anyway. Mithras would eventually tell him to shut his whiny yap. With affection. At the very least, Mithras knew to be light on him in the mornings. Waking up was always... taxing for him, despite only needing four hours at most. A curtain of cold sweat, a restlessness buzzing under his skin like a colony of morose fire ants--it was awful. Luckily, he'd been able to brush off the vision. Not so luckily, they seemed to be getting worse and worse by the morrow.

No. He didn't have the energy to let his thoughts wander. Food was needed.

Sluggishly, Grimm slipped on his customary garb and mask, gestured Mithras to flew down to ground level before him, and took his time descending. It was packed with the usual business, though most of the customers were loitering about like peevish prisoners, rather than patrons looking for a hardy jug of ale. Grimm scoured his surroundings, a hopeless endeavor to spot an empty corner for himself; of course, the place was far too packed. This... was far from preferable. Social interaction wasn't exactly Grimm's strong suit.

Sending out an internal prayer to Pip, he considered a corner table a short distance away, and figured the gathering of faces there weren't terribly intimidating. In fact, a cat was present. Err, he hoped Mithras wouldn't have a problem with the fellow creature. Regardless, Grimm made his way over to the table, gave pause at the edge, wiggled his gloved fingers awkwardly, before shimmying into a seat. His chair creaked obnoxiously.

...

Good. This was going fine. Marvelous.

Either way, if he didn't talk, then everything would progress smoothly. Thus, Grimm forced his gaze down, realizing a moment too late that his leather back would smack into wood. It did so with a sharp tap, and the elf froze... He adjusted his mask before focusing on his diligently tapping fingers. A minute of social avoidance. Two. Five. Ten more... Thank Pip. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all--

And then came the barging in of a man. Clearly distressed. Screaming for help. For his trapped child. Grimm's vision shot up to the support beams above, spotting her companion. Mithras.

Already on it.

Without another word, Mithras descended and glided over the heads of patrons, swerving around the man and slipping outside. At the same time, Grimm stood and started heading for the exit... Only to stop. A tipped cart... He was far from physical fit. Not to lift a cart, let alone rescue someone from the grips of a mud slide. He turned to the others at the table. He didn't know a single one of them, but he supposed discomfort came second to solving the issue at hand. With his longbow, he rapped it three times against the table to get the group's attention, then pointed urgently towards the door, waving them to come along.

 

[KatSea]

Piper, Half Elf-Half Wasted

Good Lusina. She had FINALLY made it to Mulgrave. Any day more and she was going to slam her beloved lute into a tree, watching it shatter to pieces before mending it with a grumble and a half. Not that she didn't usually enjoy the trip(good gods, did she have some fun on the way down here that was for sure), but now with two priorities on her plate, she found that the pulsing headache of the power of responsibility and all that bull dung was becoming a little too much for the young woman to bear. Besides. Things were supposed to be going up, and now that she was clambering down with the speed of a frisky drunken flute solo, she found herself to be exhausted. No, beyond exhausted.

Just done.

"You haaaaaaaaaad to share this with me nowwwwww." She grumbled, fists digging miserably into the fabric of her blouse as she ran her knuckles up and down her sides to calm her settling nerves. "You know, I was just in town! I was JUST in town and you decide to mail me by stranger! Now I gotta run back and run here and...."

Her thumb came up gingerly to run across Leonard's head. Yeah. That little problem could wait. For right now, she was here, and she could be the most efficient...well, getting back what should have been kept. Her eyes drooped tiredly. Alright. A night's rest at the inn would serve her well. If...well, hopefully he'd be here. This was her friend after all...he wouldn't, mind a favor? Would he? She'd pay him back of course. Of course she would. You have to pay him, raise money, spend money, drink it away, raise money...Good Lusina, Naivara. Make up your mind on the endgame here, babe.

She scratched at Leonard's scruff again. "Alright. Here tonight, kitten. You can have the bed, as usual."

------

No. Piper did not drink that night, nor did she have the desire too. She was, after all, at a droopy, rainy, miserably institution that reminded her way too much of home, and by God was she only gonna make things better by slamming down a few ciders. No. Not tonight, unfortunately. If she was right and Agnar was here, then she needed to be on her best behavior. Didn't mean she couldn't have a nice amount of fun...just...not with the nectar of the alcoholic deities. "Alright, alright. Breakfast. Breakfast sounds good...Good Gods, I am glad he left me with a little bit of coin left...bastard sure did like the shiny shit I had."

No time for the lament. For now, she had to flourish elsewhere, and if that meant looking spectacular at breakfast, so be it. But God, she could knock the slumming pain in her head. No, no, not a hangover. Not quite. Does...Does stress just do this to people? Hell, I kind of prefer the hangover.

She trudged miserably to the main hall below, slumping into a seat and patting on her face for Leonard to curl upon if she wished. He really did provide a good blinding agent if she couldn't sleep well at night. You know. As long as he didn't knead his fucking claws into her face at two am in the morning. Wearily raising her hand in greeting at the strangers that offered their presence to the table. Still not looking up, she flashed the nearest person a thumbs up, restraining a yawn as she slung back her feet underneath the table. Alright...maybe fifteen more minutes while waiting for her breakfast would be absolutely useful. Yeah. Yeah. Good for her physical and mental...>

Her head jerked back before it had a chance to slump in her chest, and her eyes fluttered wearily. "Good morning to all of you~" She greeted, not quite focusing her attention on anyone who could have joined the table at any given point. Hell, they could have been tieflings and she would have been too weary to really give a freak.

Yeah. Hangover would have been better.

Not to mention the music wasn't quite helping her state of mind, either. Gosh...they sounded, well, pathetic and quite frankly as if they had crossbow bolts pointed to their heads. Play fine men! For our amusement!

Lazily, she shuffled her feet underneath her chair and clambered up onto the seat, crouching at first before, reaching behind her back, pulled out the lute that had been slung over her shoulder. "Stop! Stop stop stop! My goodness! You will never keep people in your establishment if you play like that! No no, all all wrong. May Lusina have mercy on all of your souls." Huffing, Piper waited for a brief time for the area to quiet down, if not just a bit, before beginning to strum

She waited until her body swayed in rhythm of the song, her lips curling into a smile as the words became clear in her mind and were able to billow forth "I'm bringing inspiration back, them other bands don't know how to act, I think it's special what I've got to show you cads, so turn it up Ill pick up your slack, dirty knave, you see these lutes honey Im your saaaaveeeeee. I'll let you throw tomatoes if I miss this play, its just that no one makes me sing this way. I'm bring inspiration back, them other bands don't know how to act, boys let me make up for all the skills you lack, cause your burning up the stage, dirty knave, you see these lutes honey I'm your saaaaaaaaveeeee."

"My kid! My kid is..."

"What?" Piper suddenly whirled around at the mention of such a thing, however, her ears still remained bright red from the sudden performance, hands clutching her lute tightly. "Hope that wasn't too inappropriate for your child sir!" She paused and looked down at the nearest person(Grimm) before he got up and went for the door.

Christ I wasn't that bad, was I?

 

[Toogee]

The humans would continue to smoke their lungs black and beat each other senselessly. The cat, amidst the chaos, would lay content upon the floor. True, he would have much preferred to have stayed upon an entire bed, as per the usual arrangement. Anything beat the wet dirt outside, however. He had to thank his human Piper for her knack at music. It was probably the only reason they had accommodations of this quality. Her talent generally varied on the type and amount of drink being served. Fortunately, it was only morning, so alcohol would not play a factor in this performance. Leonard would have better enjoyed the music if everyone would just shut up. He could have moved closer, but that would mean getting up. The feline wasn't about to do something so strenuous.

From his vantage, six pairs of feet surrounded the table. Who they belonged to, Leonard neither knew nor cared. He was far more interested in entertaining what would have been last night's dinner. A tiny grey field mouse, seemingly blind to the danger he was in, was climbing upon Leonard's head. The cat, amused by the mouse's insistence of hanging around his natural predator, decided to spare him.

"Now DinDin, I'm calling you DinDin because you will always be my dinner and are alive now because I'm a kind and benevolent being."

The mouse gave no hint of acknowledgement. He simply nibbled on a bread crumb.

"Now that that's out of the way, you may be wondering why I am back in Mulgrave. I'm in no better position than when I left, so I'm certainly not helping anyone. And if those that call themselves 'my masters' found out I was back here with no results to speak of? They'd kill me nine times to make sure I never make that mistake again."

"I suppose a part of me is attached to the girl. An orphan, like myself. We got nothing but each other. Not many orphans of Mulgrave are so lucky, you tiny mouse among them. Neither of us are good at sound life decisions, but we manage to get each other out of messes. Where she goes, I suppose I will follow. If nothing else, at least life won't be dull."

It was at that point an old man rushed into the tavern, his panic spreading through the crowd as fast as the cold draft he was letting in. Leonard sighed as he addressed his mouse once more.

"Lesson One of Life, dear DinDin. Mind your mortality. One moment, you're a rich kid being hauled to the next noble gathering. The next, you're being crushed underneath a wooden cart."

BOOM BOOM BOOM

Three raps upon the table sounded much louder when one was thinking about being crushed by wooden structures. A stream of cussing escaped Leonard, though all everyone else heard was the frightened screeching of a cat. Leonard bolted out from under the table, passed Grimm's legs, passed Piper's, and headed straight out the door. He didn't even think about the pounding rain outside. He would seek the closest shelter his panicked mind could focus on. Perhaps that overturned cart?

 

[DarinValore]

Agnar Varinsson

It was supposed to be a simple trip to Corbin, a simple transaction of gold for pelts...and someone else's job.

His grandfather had suggested that he go to Corbin this time to pick up the pelts. Normally Baldur would make the run, but Baldur's wife had fallen ill, and all parties agreed that someone else should make the run this time. While such a task was not required of his station, Agnar agreed when his grandfather volunteered him. What was a boat ride to Corbin and back? What could possibly happen in the time it took to pick up a shipment of pelts and transport them back home?

Thunder crashed, the wind howled, and rain pelted against the walls to answer his silent question.

It had been storming for three days. He'd been waiting for the pelts for that long, too. Hells, he'd almost be home by now if it wasn't for this storm. The only saving grace was finding out that Piper had been stranded in the same inn by the same storm. It gave them a few days to catch up. However, just like everyone else in the cramped inn, he was growing impatient as the days dragged on.

His left hand naturally clung to the Eye of Orestra that hung around his neck as he recited the prayers his mother had taught him as a child. She was fiercely religious and taught him all he knew. While he struggled with his own faith since the loss of his mother, he remained as faithful as he could to Orestra and found himself praying to the others as needed just in case they were listening and answered. Though he prayed for the last three days for the storm to lighten up, it seemed as though Tyr was not in the mood to answer his, or anyone's, prayers.

The sudden disruption of the man stumbling in crying for help distracted Agnar from his thoughts and prayers and replaced boredom and frustration with a mission. When the rapping of the bow sounded against the table, Agnar was already standing from his seat. He was big and strong, and a boy was stuck beneath a cart. He'd do whatever he could to help.

 

[CloudyBlueDay]

Wow!

The world was so... so big! Vast! Colorful! He wished he home had left sooner. Well, no, no... well... maybe? Maybe. Well it was good that he left when he did... it was good to go when you needed to go but good to stay when you had to stay! Yes. That was the solution.

Anyway.

Brand liked the rain a lot. He liked it when the world turned muddy and things were wet and dewy. The air was misty and any creature that was chirping seemed to chirp a little louder. That was just when the rain started. When it got heavy... it was a little scarier. Thunder boomed and the wind whined. Suddenly being wet wasn't very fun anymore when, well... everything was wet. That took away the mysticism a bit.

And there was... something important he couldn't get wet. He realized that a little bit late, but he stowed his journal as deep beneath his coat as he possibly could to protect it from any further assault of the rain. The thick leather of the spine and cover was luckily protective, as it had been through a lot. He needed somewhere to stay, and so he found the inn, and the rain just never stopped! On and on and on... thundering and pouring and lightning strikes. He nearly jumped out of his skin every time he heard them. But he liked the rain, he tried to remind himself. He liked the rain.

Time passed. The inn was crowded, and it only grew more stuffed by the hour. But there was lots of new things. Lots to draw, so he didn't grow bored too quickly. Though his coin purse was growing lighter and lighter, there was nowhere to go, nothing to do except wait out the intense downpour. His stomach growled, hungry for more than they were given, but that was always true. He was always hungry. Mother said so.

So many people with so many interesting faces. He was desperately curious, wanting to know everything, wanting to put it all to paper. The man with the long scar across his eye, the man who looked fit to be a conqueror in a story book. The beautiful music notes along a woman's arm. The adorably fluffy kitten at her feet! He wanted to say hello. He wanted to meet them! And then he would ask very politely to draw them. Yes. That was a good plan. A great plan!

Brand stepped up. He opened his mouth...

"Help! Someone! Please… My cart… the mud! It's overturned… my kid… my kid is stuck! Please!"

His heart drummed against his chest in a sudden whirl of panic. Oh no. Oh no! That was awful. He jumped to attention so abruptly he kicked the chair he had stood from away a couple feet. "S... sorry!" He announced quickly, to no one in particular, before rushing up to follow the rest of the people at the table. The only thing that made him pause was the sight of a glorious bird flying overhead - wow! Hopefully it'd be around long enough for him to draw it too! But.. but there was something more important right now.

Brand liked to help people. He did, with all his heart. Because people were good and people needed help, and more than ever this person needed help. He didn't think much about it; he simply burst out into the cold, squinting ahead at the overturned cart.

He... he wasn't so sure what to do past that. He couldn't lift a cart himself. Not alone. Hoping to catch the gaze of the others that had run out alongside him, Brand attempted to silently convey a message just by the panic in his eyes, that they would have to do it together.

 

[Cwispy]

Spending the night in a trance would look like an alien experience to most people. There Belyth was underneath the windowsill of his room, legs folded in an unusual sitting posture, the long lengths of his robes bunched together under his ankles for some extra padding against the rough wooden floor. He sat in total darkness, his wooden longsword delicately perched on his index fingers. This is how he "slept", staring at the grain of his blade, taking in every detail, losing himself in textures and lines. What scant light able to successfully pierce the bloated black clouds hanging drearily over the tavern was the only thing that marked the passage of time. In his vision, shades of grey would wash over the blade from hilt to tip, like watching the moonlight on the surface of the ocean. When the first signs of color began to breath life back into the sword, the silent grey slowly shifting to a warm deep brown, that's when Belyth would wake up.

And then he would perform his other morning rituals. With a flick of his wrist and a muttered command his black cat Tyr would appear on his bed, stretching back on his haunches, yawning wide, and flicking his tongue dryly as his feline eyes began to focus. Then Belyth would put on his garments, trace an arcane incantation through the air, press his left hand against the soft linen on his blue sash that ran over his padded clothes, and cast a spell that would more effectively protect him from harm. His final piece of morning procedure would be to strap his tome to his belt, and put his blade in its sheath, pulling his cloak over his shoulders and stepping out the door.

He must've been late in getting breakfast, because he was forced to take a final empty chair next to Piper and several strangers. The entire tavern was drenched in a muted atmosphere, his table remarkably quiet despite the squandered tune (and Piper's cringey attempt to top it). Belyth took this chance to recover some spell energy by getting lost in his spellbook. His eyes would dance across the pages of his spell book, like they did his blade throughout the night. He would become small, the size of a pinhead, lost amid archaic sigils, runes and arcane principle and philosophy. This practice put him totally at ease, his body reaching total relaxation so that the reserves of his mana could replenish themselves. It was simple enough, when one knew the underlying principles that underpinned this arcane recovery.

He wasn't sure how long it had been before a jolt of panic cut through his process.

"Help! Someone! Please… My cart… the mud! It's overturned… my kid… my kid is stuck! Please!"

Belyth was in such a natural state of calm that his reaction was a snapping series of movements. He shut his book heavily between his hands, tucked it under his arm and rushed out the door, lithely dodging others on the way out. He never even glanced back to see what Neivara and Angar were doing. If someone was in need, that was enough for the elf.

 

[WingWong]

Sienna Kadmir

She was utterly still in her seat, but her mind was pacing like a caged animal, growing more frantic and more feral with each passing moment cooped up in this tavern. Three days. Three days. This rain had not let up for three days, and it had effectively trapped her in this tavern that seemed to grow more crowded and more stifling and more suffocating by the second. Surrounded by unfamiliar faces with unknown intentions behind them, Sienna was far beyond twitchy. "Twitchy" was, in fact, the understatement of the century for what she was.

This, of course, manifested itself in the bitchiest resting bitch face of the said century, which was only further deepened as the horrible attempts at music clawed through her ears. It was a wonder that anyone was sitting next to her, let alone five people. She was in a foul mood that had soured further as she messaged her temple with her hand. Could someone stop that infernal band from playing? Gods above.

She almost, almost, thanked the blonde woman that had silenced the cacophony and begun to play herself. It was only the smallest of reprieves, but at least there weren't instruments screeching into her ears now.

She'd watched the arrival of some others, eyes tracking those that came and those that went. Her brow had raised at some of them, specifically those that also sat at her table. The bird masked man was....interesting, to say the least. Interesting in a way that she intended to keep a close eye on him.

Left without the suitable distraction of how miserable the music was, her thoughts strayed elsewhere.

She should have been gone by now. Should've been outside Mulgrave entirely. Should have been anywhere but this godsforsaken tavern for three days. Not to mention her....visitor. Her frown deepened at the thought. What could they have possibly hoped to gain by giving it to her? Of all people. Her mastery was over death. She was judge, jury, assassin. Not....whatever they thought she was. She'd planned to tell them just that, only to find the case locked and the visitor long gone.

Because another thing to carry was precisely what she needed, of course. Faaaaaaantastic. It just kept getting better.

She was snapped from her thoughts as a voice pierced through the tavern, her hand halfway to reaching for a dagger before she'd caught herself.

"Help! Someone! Please… My cart… the mud! It's overturned… my kid… my kid is stuck! Please!"

She faltered. She had a job to do, a mission to complete. She had too much on the line to get sidetracked. Then again, she had little better to do. She was trapped here. She couldn't get on with her mission until the rain let up. She was not going anywhere, not soon at least, and she was hardly productive sitting here praying for the tavern to miraculously empty.

And it was a kid. A kid trapped under a cart. She sighed, swiping a hand over her face, and then she brought herself to her feet. She followed after the rest of her table, slipping through the door and into the rain. Her boots sank into the mud, eyes searching.

Damn her bleeding heart.

 

[Elle Joyner]

Following the desperate man outside, you find yourselves momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the rainfall, a savage and unrelenting torrent, near-blinding in its tempestuous fury. The mud beneath you is a slick, viscous mess that grips at your every footfall, and the howling wind rips against you, threatening to knock even the most stalwart of you off your feet.

Despite the time of morning, darkness persists, the sky overhead nearly black with thick, heavy clouds. In the distance, thunder growls and a fork of sharp, swift heliotrope darts across the horizon. In that momentary flare of light you see it...

Roughly two hundred feet from the tavern, the overturned cart resembles the husk of a massive beast looming along the western shoulder of the cobbled path. The yoke rests at a forty-five degree angle, splintered in the center where reins once tethered a carthorse, two wheels spinning on the left side, airborne in the harsh winds, the other two sinking deeper into the quagmire. Pinned between one of these wheels and the sodden ground, a figure.

Since she began her diligent reconnaissance, Mithras will notice the boy she observed has fallen eerily still, his arms splayed to each side like a child playing in the snow. Eyes powerful through the darkness and unrelenting downpour, the orange tabby can see as well... the staggered rise and fall of a burdened chest, the plume of breath from parted lips coming less and less frequently...

"Tully.. Oh gods. Please..." The boy's father murmurs, voice breaking, a torrent of its own making rolling in streams down the man's pale cheeks. His fingers drive back a crown of sopping wet, thinning white hair, quivering legs fold beneath him as he sinks onto the stoop of the tavern.

Another crack sounds directly overhead, the deafening timpany of thunder, its words incoherent and yet unequivocal.

Your move...​

TAGS || @Mobley Eats , @CloudyBlueDay , @DarinValore , @KatSea , @Toogee , @WingWong

 

[Mobley Eats]

Collab Post | Cart Rescue 101, Part I

The rain made it almost impossible for Agnar to see anything beyond a few steps before him, but in the distance he could make out the shadow of the cart, "Come on," he waved for the others to follow him by calling out, "it's over here!"

Belyth dashed towards the cart with a fierce urgency in his stride. His eyes were naturally accustomed to the dark, but the interference from the rain falling in heavy sheets made seeing much more difficult than normal. His boots squelched in the mud, his clothes quickly drenched through. By the time he heard Agnar he was a few yards from the cart, his perceptive eyes taking in the scene.

"I can see the boy," he called, "He is pinned beneath the wheel… It's sinking! A-and he can't breath!" There was a hint of desperation to his voice, a visceral reaction to seeing someone in a dire predicament. "The cart is weighed down, there are still barrels and furniture inside, some of which has spilled over!"

Sloshing through the puddles, Agnar made his way to the cart and quickly surveyed the scene. It was just as Belyth had said. Immediately, he jumped into action. Taking a position beside the boy, Agnar grabbed the side of the cart. A frustrated sigh escaped his lips as his feet slid in the mud. Shaking his head, he turned to the others, "Help me!" he demanded, his eyes fixed in the direction of the other two men, "Get a solid grip and be ready. The mud is loose. Belyth, empty the cart as quickly as you can without adding much more weight to it."

Turning his attention to Piper and Sienna, he continued, "The two of you get the boy. We may only be able to give you a few inches for only a breath or two at best in these conditions. Once we lift the cart, pull him out quickly!"

"Right!" Belyth immediately stepped up to the edge of the cart, the pinned boy directly to his right. He had to tear his eyes away from the boy's expression that was quickly becoming more purple, starved of oxygen.
He pulled his staff from it's sling and jammed it between the cart and the barrels, and yanked down as hard as he could. The barrels were incredibly heavy to Belyth, but he'd managed to apply enough force to tip them over. Each one fell to the ground with a loud and wet thud.

Meanwhile, Leonard watched with the five capable people as Agnar attempted to lift the cart singlehandedly. He assumed everyone was waiting for Agnar to either lift the cart over his head…or rip his arms out of his sockets. Once he slid into the mud and asked others for help, the show was over for Leonard. His attention was drawn to a piercing, shrieking cry. At least, it was to him: the feline didn't see anyone else notice. While the people went off to be heroes, Leonard sneaked away to investigate the sound. As he got closer, the cry started to resemble something like an eagle of sorts.

"Oh, that's just terrific," Leonard commented sarcastically to his mouse DinDin, who was still perched on his head. "Just so you know, if this is something that tries to eat me, I'm sacrificing you. No hard feelings."

Whatever shrill cry had caught Leonard's attention also filtered into Mithras's ears. She circled high overhead as Grimm barreled into the stormy onslaught, beak turning sharply in the direction of the noise. Her thoughts echoed through Grimm's skull, piercing the vicious cry of the downpour.

"Grimm, there's something traveling from over there."

"I can barely hear anything at the moment," he hissed back mentally while sloshing through the mud, following behind Agnar closely. "Lend me your ears. Be swift." His bird companion didn't need further urging; a bridge formed between their conscience and in the next moment, an empty deafness overcame the elf's ears and a steady stream of Mithras's senses funneled into his mind. Yes, he could hear it now. Something familiar and worrisome--the distress call of a bird-like creature. His kin. "Go investigate!" He looped around to the other side of Agnar, back to the overturned cart as he crouched and lifted with every ounce of his being.

The yells of Belyth and Agnar returned with sharp clarity, the connection severed once more. With a distant caw, Mithras changed course to the west and explored the skies overhanging a nearby swamp. Meanwhile, Grimm grit his teeth, his fragile joints burning in protest, his boots struggling to maintain traction against the mud. His added effort helped, but nowhere near the amount he hoped.

He liked the rain… he liked the rain… he liked the rain. The rain was wondrous and pure and natural and not big and booming and scary and cold… Brand liked the rain. He set off with determination into the mud, sinking deeper and deeper as he neared the cart. The thought of being pinned, trapped… it sent a chill to his bones. They had to get this poor boy out.

Doing as he was told the moment he was told to do it, Brand took a firm stance and began to push up on the cart with all his might. He wasn't the strongest, but with all their forces combined, he could feel it begin to budge. A crack of thunder struck the sky and Brand nearly jumped out of his skin, his grip on the cart nearly slipping, but he managed to hold firm. Almost there…

Okay bringing the bards back into the yard, cause damn she was better than theirs, Piper figured that it should have caused the nerves around her. Nope. Apparently there was trouble a brewing, and if it involved a child, Piper found all sense of amusement dimming from her mind. She gingerly slung her lute back over her shoulder, instead scoping the pseudo panflute from her blouse. Quietly and gingerly making her way behind Agnar and the rest, her eyes trained to the cart, her heart dropped. Nausea built in her stomach at the sight and she covered her mouth, using the opportunity to bring her flute to her lips and hum a melody.

Her eyes trained to the wheel of the cart and she prayed to Lusina it was going to work. Lowering her hand and her flute, Piper gave a swift nod to the folks around her, no words of humor or dryness escaping her lips as she knelt towards the cart.

Wouldnt be the first time I got down and dirty. Gods, someone needs to scrub my brain

However, Piper, in the midst of these thoughts, saw a beginning of an opening to grab onto the boys leg. Mustering all her strength, she latched her fingers as tightly as she could and began to pull. No pain layered in her muscles. It felt as natural as strumming an e minor chord.

---

Tags: Everyone

 

[Toogee]

Cart Rescue 101 Part 2: Slip in Mud, Save the Boy, Face the Enemy! Damnit!

The first running step Sienna turned from a simple step to a skid across the ground. A few moments passed with dignified, oh so dignified, flailing as she just managed to catch herself. Her heart was pounding and attempting to crawl out of her throat, and she felt the slow creep of embarrassment over her cheeks as she stood stock still.


She could feel the gods laughing at her.


Gaze cast briefly to Agnar as he barked orders, she quickly returned her eyes to the trek ahead of her. To where the boy lay crushed by the cart wheel. Damnit, damnit, damnit. She was cursing her bleeding heart, and this wretched rain, and the fact her boots were so worn she'd skidded through the mud as if it were ice.


She continued cursing under her breath with every step, the volume of her voice raising each time her feet were nearly swiped from underneath her. Damnit, damnit, damnit.


It was a good thing Lady Kadmir could not see her right now, or she might just whack Sienna herself, instead of letting the mud get a go of it.


She managed to slip and slide her way to the cart, making an ever so graceful save from

faceplanting into the mud as she reached it, having planted one knee into the road.


She cast a look to the boy in question with narrowed eyes. He'd better live after all of this. She reached out with Piper, grasping at the boy's limbs. Bit by bit she felt him shift, but bit by bit, she felt her feet sliding out from underneath her. Come on, come on, he was nearly free. Nearly free…


"A little higher!" Agnar cried out as he felt his feet shift beneath him. Setting them back in place, he mustered what strength he'd held back and lifted, "It's now or never," he told the women working to free the boy.


Finally they pulled him free, and slowly Agnar lowered the cart to the mud so that it wouldn't slide into them. He watched as they dragged the boy a safe distance from the cart, concern filled his eyes, "The boy, is he okay?" he asked as he brushed away at the water pouring over his eyes.


Over the din of rain and the sound of mud beneath boots--curses whispered to the wind--Belyth picked up a noise, sweet and mellifluous-- but only briefly. He cocked his head to the side, perking his ears in the direction the sound came from.. Odd.

Relief washed over him as the young lad was finally dragged free from beneath the crushing weight of the cart, in no small thanks to this collection of strangers he'd come to be slightly familiar with as fellow prisoners of the storm. The noise nagged at him, however. He looked towards Tyr, the black cat had its head cocked, ears flattened in the downpour. Belyth nodded at his friend and off Tyr went, cautiously padding towards the source of the strange noise.


If it wasn't for the mask covering his face, everyone would've witnessed the absolute redness dominating Grimm's features, pumping as much effort as he could into assisting the others with the cart. It was a miracle in itself that nothing had snapped or slipped out of its socket, and a sigh of relief couldn't have escaped him faster when Belyth lessoned the weight.


Thank Pip. The masked elf nearly feared popping a blood vessel. Or several--at once.


The moment Agnar gave the word and he caught sight of the young boy being pulled free, Grimm released the cart and started rolling his abused shoulders. However, not a moment of reprieve was allowed for Grimm, as Mithras's voice filtered into his mind… And the message didn't bode well. Not in the slightest. The elf switched his gaze back and forth between the group and the direction his bird companion had flown off to, conflicted.


The moment the cart finally fell to their will, the moment Brand could feel the weight on his joints shift, give, and the boy was pulled out. Oh, thank Tiona. The moment the boy was safely away from the cart, Brand's attention fell from it entirely to him, instantly letting go of the hefty cart to spin on his heels and scoop the boy up from the cold ground, holding him tightly in his arms. "W-w-we must get him inside!"


Pipers breath finally escaped her mouth as the boy was retrieved from the cart, her eyes slightly scorched and mouth dry as her eyes darted from individual to individual. Despite her trembling heart and shaking fingers, she caught Agnars eye and gave him a wink, before she inspected Bel, then over to the man who handled the boy in his arms.


Pipers hand instinctively went to her pan flute at her neck, desperately wanting to assist the boy, but knowing it would be difficult with the man holding him and those around her. Something within her tremored, utterly pulsed with rawness, and she dropped her hand as she let the melodious breath reserved for her spell drop from her lips.


Maybe...maybe if she had a moment to be alone with the child…


"Come now dear I'll try and help you~" Piper cooed towards Brand, motioning her head towards the door of the inn. She found herself quietly praying to Lusina, knowing that if she could not tend to the boy at the moment, the goddess could at least send some good fortune...she nibbled at her bottom lip anxiously. "Does...does he seem well, sir?"

Sienna slumped with relief as the boy was friend and consequently scooped up by Brand. She took a step back as Brand stood, the boy cradled in his arms. She glanced to Piper. Truthfully, no, she sincerely did not think he seemed well. Of course, she wasn't a doctor either, but sometimes one doesn't have to be.


She worked her jaw, considering. She shouldn't. It was dangerous, and illegal to consider. Illegal in a slightly different, more pressing way than the other illegal things, anyway. She rested a hand on her bag, still slung around her shoulder; she'd sooner get it dirty than leave it to just get robbed. As her hand rested there, however, she felt and heard a soft click from within it.


She glanced down, eyebrows raised, before her gaze returned to the boy in question. What had they said when they gave her the chest, again? Only when it was needed most? Her fingertips tapped on the fabric of the bag, but she said nothing, drifting to the edges of their mismatched group. Maybe later. Later….


Belyth inhaled deeply as he shut his eyes. In the next breath he was seeing through the eyes of his familiar, hearing through his ears. The cat was maybe several meters from his master, his soft padding turned into quick bounding leaps towards the edge of the swamp. Through the torrent of rain the tiny familiar managed to see something… Belyth saw it too.


His eyes snapped open as he drew his sword from its sheath. He traced an arcane sigil in the air and whispered a message to the conflicted mute whose gaze kept switching from the group to the direction his bird had flown, towards the thing that Tyr had seen. Do you sense it too?

"Agnar!" Belyth yelled over the din of the rain, "Something is coming!" He began to step back, blade held at the ready, his staff hooked into its sling, a free hand ready to trace arcane sigils in the air.


As Leonard faced down the unknown horror, he was joined by all the other animal companions: a raven up in the sky and a...ghost cat (or whatever a familiar is)? While admirable that they would all go to scout for their masters, it occurred to Leonard that they were all unarmed morsels to whatever shrieking harpy this thing ended up being. Once the elf Belyth started sounding the alarm, the feline had stuck around long enough.


"Welp, I'm out." Leonard mewed to his fellow feathered and furry friends and scampered off back to the people group.


Just as our heroes save the life of a little boy, an unknown foe approaches. Will Leonard escape into the loving embrace of Piper, or will he get turned to meow mix? Will this act of heroism get Piper into the big time? Is Agnar strong enough to carry the group through battle? Can Grimm get any redder? Can Bell trace happy trees with his arcane sigils? Will Sienna ever get the upper hand on her archnemesis: mud? Would Brand ever get to ask his new friends (very politely) to draw them? All this and more (probably less) will be revealed in the next episode. Same Fable time, same Fable day!

 

[Elle Joyner]

As the boy is pulled free, a collective breath of relief expels from the party. You've done it. You saved him. His injuries, as Brand will note, are not as severe as initially feared. Sharp, shallow inhalations turn inward, deeper and longer, and behind his shuttered lids, his eyes begin to dance as he stirs. From the tavern entrance, his father rises, and hands cupping his mouth, he murmurs a soft 'than you' to the heavens.

But as his voice rises skyward, another carries to your ears, driven on the wind, barely rising above the torrent of rain and clap of thunder. A melody, beautiful and alluring. Pinpricks of thought pierce your mind... this song. You know it. It reminds you of a distant memory, of warmth and kindness, of safety... of...

No.

This wasn't right. That sound wasn't familiar. It wasn't good...

What had Belyth called out? Something coming? Yes. That was it... Something coming... Something--

A shriek pierces the sky, and from the treeline two figures burst from the foliage. Morbidly thin, one a disquieting grey hue, the other a pale gold, and extending the length of their digit-less arms, great wings springing forth, talons making up the ends of their legs.

Inherently, you know... without a doubt, you must run.

Well... everyone save for the young and eager Brand, who's attention is suddenly and acutely transfixed, his eyes bright and wide, staring unblinkingly at the creatures, as though every secret in the universe might come from their blessed lips and he must know them all. Slowly, from the porch of the tavern, the boy's father also begins to move, step by step, closer to the forest, his gaze distant and unaware. And in his wake, an orange tabby cat, who, indeed, has seen the canary to end all canaries.

With another sharp cry, the Harpies begin their descent.

GM Note

Leonard and Brand has been charmed - you will feel, down to the very depth of your core, compelled to move closer to these creatures. Nothing will stand in your way and no one will stop you... Or so you hope.

TAGS || @Mobley Eats , @CloudyBlueDay , @DarinValore , @KatSea , @Toogee , @WingWong ​

 

[Elle Joyner]

As the screeching resonates like the drums of war, Belyth traces a sigil through the air and mutters under his breath. "Athek werthen roth!" He extends a finger forward and out of it comes a bluish ray of glowing ice. It pelts the harpy, the ice beginning to shift and collect around her joints, preventing her full range of movement. Belyth moves back towards the tavern. He hasn't noticed the effect on Brand.

Sienna looks up from her bag, her attention drawn from the click within. Her eyes widen as the two feathered figures swoop down, hands reflexively covering her ears at the noise. She takes a step back, itching to run, when she notices several of those in the crowd around the cart approaching the harpies, one of them being the man holding the boy they'd just pulled out of the mud. Gods damn it. What was his name? Had he given a name? She couldn't remember.

"Hey!" she calls out helpfully before swiping a hand over her face in frustration. She pulls her bow from it's resting place, knocking an arrow before letting it fly at the closest of the harpies.

The fight had started before Agnar could encourage otherwise. The harpies emerged singing their song and enrapturing Brand who wanders sluggishly toward his doom with the boy in his arms, making the matter worse. Shaking his head, Agnar starts off toward Brand and wraps his arms firmly around him, hoping to keep him and the rescued boy safe.

"Snap out of it!" He yells.

Before Brand could register the threat looming over him, he was engulfed in a sudden need to draw closer. It took over every fiber of his being, and despite the panicked thundering of his heart being the only thing he could hear moments ago, now the sound of the Harpy's sweet song surrounded him like a warm cocoon.

All until a strong pair of hands grip him and shake him out of the trance, a yelp falls out of him as his hold on the boy slips.

As Sienna arrow suddenly finds purchase, it's barb digging into her leg, the second creature gives a shriek and dives faster, coming within striking distance of Brand, the fallen boy and Agnar.

Piper quickly unsheathing her rapier from her hip, rushes forward, blood pounding in her ears, before she slams the blade into the monsters abdomen, giving the blade a rather generous twist as it finds purchase in the creature

Turning now to Agnar, she winks, singing under her breath "Yeah they were stalkin', and cawin', and moving through the tree line, and just when it hit me, I thought about skewering and I'm telling you to kill that harpy right boy. Kill that harpy right boy, lay down your dukes and stab that fucker till it dies. Till it dies, oh until it dies..." a soft melody of the chorus remains under her breath, almost as a nerve, long after her inspiration comes through


Grimm's eyes widen behind the mask. Gods—he should've known this would happen. A few were already charmed by their song... and one was holding the boy. Until he wasn't.

Frantically, Grimm dashes forward to catch the child before he struck mud and wasting no time turns on his heel to sprint towards the tavern. As he runs, his thoughts reach out to Mithras.

The cat is charmed! I-if you would please—

"Just focus on the child."

Then with a flutter, Mithras maneuvers through the areal discord and tries to collide into the feline, wings flapping harshly.

"Moex ithi anan" Belyth chants as he traces arcane sigils through the air. He closes his eyes and summons the picture of perfect mirth, a scene under autumn canopies, children dashing up leaves as they play. He takes this feeling of joy and twists it through his sigil. Arcane energy flares from the eyes of the harpy harrying Agnar Piper and Brand, and she falls over, giggling like a child, her song ended.

"Now is your chance!" Belyth yells at his companions.

With the sudden flapping of wings Leonard is finally pried from his lemming march towards disaster. He isn't entirely sure what came over him; perhaps being famished. He blamed Piper for not feeding him six square meals a day, despite his pleading mews. In any case, the humans seem to have things covered, so the cat does the sensible thing and runs for cover. He takes refuge behind the fallen wagon to wait out the battle, or if need be, do a sneak attack.

Suddenly, her shriek piercing loudly, the harpy still drifting above the treeline gives a flutter of her wings and with a crack, the last vestiges of ice shatter free as she dives towards the caster of the spells, swiping out with razor-like talons at the man.

And as she dives, Tully's father closes in on the women, the glaze of their charm still lingering in his gaze.

Sienna pulls a second arrow from her quiver, knocking it in her bow, only for the harpy to swoop down as she fires. The arrow missed entirely, whizzing past the harpy. She swears, even as she moves closer to where Belyth stood. Wary of using magic so openly, she could nevertheless sense a lost opportunity if she failed to save him. Connections made a difference, and she had no intention of losing this one just yet.
Releasing Brand, Agnar cries out "See to the boy's father!"

Then pulling his greataxe from his back, he charges the harpy attacking Belyth. Unfortunately, his foot slips in the mud just enough as he swung to cause him to miss his target.

A squeak escapes Brand as the boy was luckily saved by Grimm's nimble action. It was too much for Brand to even fully process before Agnar was shouting at him again, eyes wide and unfocused. The father. The boy's father. He could do that. He could do that.

Stumbling over, getting stuck in the mud more than once with limbs the consistency of jelly, Brand begins to very uncertainly wave his hands in front of the father's face, entirely unsure of what he's doing. He includes some hesitant pats on the shoulder and some, "Sir! Sir!" exclamations for added measure. Somehow, it seems to work.

"S-sir! Your son is a-alright but we must get away!" Brand meekly tugs on the man's arm, but still with a sense of urgency.

Piper's eyes flicker from from harpy to harpy, heart thumping in her throat as arrows and swings miss. Attempting to drive her already bloodied blade back into the abdomen of the creature, she too feels her feet slip into the sleek surface of mud.

"Oh fuck you!" She hisses in elven, before turning to her newly wounded companion, Belyth. Softly mumbling she fumbles to make a poem off the top of her head to aid him. "There once was an elf name Bel, and it wasn't that hard of a sell, to find a companion in his person, especially when you have a tired bard, oh so thirstin'. Perhaps it is then that I ask you to stay alive, come on baby I know you can survive. So snap that vixens neck, and keep your safety in check."

Grimm kept running. It was the only thing he could do, would allow himself to do while still having the innocent child in his arms. Skittering into the tavern, his boots nearly slipping from underneath him against hardwood, he gently sets the boy down, propping him up against the wall. The others, hopefully would tend to him.

Straightening, he mans the entrance once more and squinted through the torrent of rainfall, tries to pinpoint the Harpy still soaring through the skies. Against better judgement, he knocks an arrow and lets it go, sighing as it veers wide and lands in the mud.

Meanwhile, Mithras circles the skies a safe distance away from the Harpies, still keeping an eye on the group outside.

Leonard, too, watches as Agnar and Piper made their heroic attacks...and proceed to fumble like babes learning to walk. Sad! The feline gives a loud meow of disapproval, making sure everyone knows he isn't happy with their efforts. Also hungry. He makes no effort to move from his spot behind the wagon, however. Perhaps his chastising will inspire better results.

With her claws having raked across his chest, Bel's body becomes cold and hot at the same time. The pain is dealt with, by sequestering the panicked part of his mind to a small corner of his mental space.

The creature avoids attacks left and right, dodging his companions. The rain not helping their cause. Blade in hand Belyth steels himself with a song from Piper... so snap that vixen's neck! He struck. He was sure the trajectory of his blow was off by a step, his footing slips in the mud. But he is surprised when it strikes true in the side of this wretched creature's neck.

A trembling hand clutches at his chest, warm liquid beginning to turn cold on his palm. "Take that you bitch." He spits.

With a furious growl, the harpy looks to her fallen sister before raising an arm to pry a club like weapon from a sheath at her back. A mighty swing brings the weapon down at Agnar, a hearty strike against the shoulder. As she swings, however, the arrow pierces and then a sword finds purchase and a painful cry erupts as her club swipes wide.

Agnar takes the blow from the harpy and recalled his training, steels himself against another strike just like that one. Resetting his foot, he swings left to right with axe smirking as he feels it bite into his target, the Harpy giving another sharp hiss of agony.

Pipers attention locks back to Bel once she notes that his hand is clutching at his chest, and for the first time notices that he is...visibly bleeding. Quite a bit. She knew he had been raked by the harpy's claws but… taking a deep breath Piper raises her pan flute and hums a quick lullaby into it, focused and attentive, watching her work do wonders as the entirety of the wounds against Bels chest close. Biting back a quip, she calls out "Hey! After you all! Good luck with the uh, stabby bits."

The rainfall shows no signs of letting up and with that comes a situation no better for Grimm's vision. He curses inaudibly under his breath as another arrow veers wide, the Harpy not even batting at eyelash at his attempts. The elf quickly ducks back into cover, back pressed to wood as he tried to gather himself. What now? Clearly, this wasn't working, but he finds himself useless beyond archery.

...He stays. For now. At the very least he can scout the area through intermittent peeks into Mithras's eyes.

Belyth gives Piper and apologetic smile, feeling both embarrassed and relieved his chest was no longer a scratch toy for the Harpy.

The creature was still in front of him, being harried by the group. Belyth feels anger rise to his cheeks, remembering the quick searing pain of his recently healed wound. For some reason, he just wanted to yell something hurtful. Which always made his low-born Cain'Parrel come out to talk.

"Fye, you're itchin' for the kindlin' touch of your sister you coxfither!!" He yells. Embarrassed again, he waits to see the Harpy's reaction, focusing on the innate magic within his bones to spirit him away if the need arises.

Leonard never thought pretty elf boys like Belyth were intimidating. Unfortunately, neither does the harpy. At this point, the feline, can only hope they'll make a getaway while the harpy gorged itself on pretty elf entrails. That is, if Piper would stop healing him. In another world, such healing powers would make Piper a saint, probably wealthy too. Mulgrave wasn't a god-fearing place; magic was forbidden. It wouldn't do them any good to fight these harpies off if the townsfolk rewarded them with the gallows. Well, most of them. Leonard would probably get away. Anywho, the cat sneaks closer to the inn to see how the town felt about this battle...and how boned they were.

Sienna slides closer to the Harpy as it's knocked prone to the ground. Swift as the wind, she plunges her dagger into the now defenseless creature, before quickly scrambling back. Knives and bleeding had a tendency to make creatures a little mad, and she has no intention of finding out what the harpy's claws felt like on her skin if she can help it. She can't help the slight wince at seeing the harpy having, instead, taken strips of skin from Belyth. She takes a few steps back, glancing at the tavern where Grimm brought the boy back. At least he was safe....

The crowd was growing as they battled the pair of harpies and Sienna takes several more steps back, swiping her dagger on the side of her pants before sheathing it. Then she raises her bow, aims another arrow, and after a beat of watching the club swipe past the harpy's target, she fires. A perfect hit. Gods-forsaken rain might have decided to grant her mercy. She then makes her way back to the tavern, another arrow resting against her bow as she waits for another clear shot. The click from within her bag from earlier was still clear in her mind as she approaches the building with every intention of investigating what that meant for the boy they pulled from under the cart.

"Is he alright?" she asks Grimm, voice low as she glances over the crowd for any sight of the boy and his father.

Agnar's ax comes down on the Harpy, but a curse slips his lips as his footing once again slips in the mud causing his blow to miss.

Piper as well tries to strike the harpy through the chest, before slipping face first into the mud. As she slowly picks herself up, she yells her inspiration filled message of hope to Agnar, "FUCKIN KILL IT ALREADY!"

It seems as if nothing would be effective against the winged creatures. Grimm barely bites back a huff of frustration as he hears the others heave equally as vexed exclamations, their voices slicing through the harsh winds and filling his gut with guilt. Perhaps... Perhaps he should have stayed out there, provided more cover and assistance, rather than hiding away in the safe confines of the tavern...

No. There was no time to wallow. He would deal with the consequences of his actions and pray that no innocent lives would be taken in the process. Grimm whips out his bow, unleashing one last arrow. It cleaves through rain and winds, burrowing into the flesh of the Harpy's torso.

And not a moment later, it's followed by not one or two, but several arrows, fired from the distance with great streaming whistles as they burrow deeply into the flesh of the winged woman. Her screams rise briefly, before with a gurgle, she drops, falling to the earth beside her companion, who is helpless in her spell-cast stupor as more arrows follow the first trajectory, and see her to her end as well.

Rain sodden, four warriors move swiftly towards the creatures and the crowd around them, their expressions as severe as the armor in which they are all clad. These are soldiers of Mulgrave - formidable as they are haggard in their scar-covered vestiges. Slowly, the first to arrive, shaking sandy blond curls, damp from the rain, out of the cool steel of his gaze, turns and looks to those who remain, his brows furrowing inward. He bears a scar from the corner of his lip towards his left ear, like an involuntary smirk turning upwards.

"What happened here?" He asks, deep voice laced with concern, "Is everyone alright?"

TAGS || @Mobley Eats , @CloudyBlueDay , @DarinValore , @KatSea , @Toogee , @WingWong ​

 

[Mobley Eats]

Grimm | Location: Mulgrave Tavern (Outside) | Interactions: Mithras, Group, & Beautiful Blonde Lady with an Axe (kinda)

Grimm could only assume that Pip and all of the other deities combined finally decided to smile down upon them. Not a moment after his arrow landed, many more provided the finishing blow and they were spared of suffering another moment with the vicious creatures. That entire altercation was... taxing, to say the least. No, frustrating. Terribly so. How could Grimm achieve his life goal when he couldn't handle a pair of Harpies? When the moment of reckoning arrived...

Now wasn't the time.

He reached out to his bird companion mentally. Mithras, are you safe?

Of course. Her response was immediate, but droning with an almost bored indifference. Grimm knew better than this, however. Her thoughts were running away from both of them. You're all rather weak.

Grimm nearly frowned, but settled for biting the inside of his cheek. I cannot speak for the others, but you are correct about me. I... I am in dire need of improvement. He slung his longbow over his shoulder and braved the rainfall once more, seeking out the group that remained outside. For a scant moment, guilt gnawed at the base of his gut. There they were, braving the battle head on while he had dawdled like a timid sheep in the tavern, unleashing long sticks with a sharp point.

Gods--he didn't wish to be this useless. Perhaps he could make it up to these kind people, one way or another.

He pulled from his musings when talons clamped around his shoulder, Mithras making herself at home while eyeing the new group. It was only now that Grimm allowed himself to study those who have essentially saved them from the Harpies...

Who... Who was that?

Despite the rugged apparel and sharp weapons and weathered skin and intimidating scowls surrounding her on all sides, the woman's radiance was a sight unmatched. Her posture screamed of power, yet it was a breed unlike anything Grimm had ever encountered. He... He was a damned greenhorn when it came to interactions, let alone with another female. The most he'd ever had was with that musical woman and all it had amounted to was a frantic tap against the table to garner their attention. But this--this resided on a level far beyond Grimm's league.

My gods, Grimm could hear Mithras's eyes roll, Just talk to her, you spineless man.

I-I shall refrain from doing so.

Why? She is human. You're human-looking. A pause. Well, a human covered in horrific red splotches and harboring the voice of a nail-gurgling monster--

Mithras! Heat flooded Grimm's face. I am placing my foot down! I refuse to talk with her; I shall let the others handle this situation.

Do it!

No!

Do it.

I said no!

Do. It. You. Coward.

Why must I??

Because I am your favorite birdy in the world.

Grimm hesitated. That... That was indeed true. He would gladly give up the world for Mithras, no matter how grating she could be. His graze strayed over to the axe-wielding woman once more and he found himself freezing up out of pure anxiety. Mithras nudged him with her beak. None of that, you fool. Approach her! A simple hello will work!

Yes... Y-yes. Of course. A simple... clean... easy... hello.

He could do this.

Gulping back nerves, Grimm straightened his posture, angled his chin in a way in which he prayed came across as confident, and cleared the distance with a smooth, charismatic gait. Yes. This felt right. He wasn't floundering so far. Just a few more steps and he could reach out to her hand, perhaps lift his mask to press a polite kiss to the back of her hand, and then--

PLOP!

...

...

A loud squawking filled the air as Mithras landed on the back of Grimm's head, her wings flapping jovially. HAHAHAHAHHAH! YOU CLUMSY FOOL! MY GODS!

Grimm groaned miserably into the mud, just barely lifting his face... but the beak of his mask was stuck. Dear Pip. This day... This horrendous, humiliating day. Clumsily, he heaved a few more yanks until the mask ripped free of his head, still stuck in the ground like a black leathery pike. Heat plucked from the surface of the sun covered Grimm's face from hairline to collar, nearly camouflaging his red splotches. The half-elf averted his gaze from everyone, focusing instead on trying to pull his mask free of the mud.

Heeeeeave! Mithras cackled. Hoooo!

Mithras you are not helping!

Oh, no. I am definitely not. I'm merely enjoying this moment.

Why must you laugh at my expense? That was terrible!

It was marvelous.

Grimm bit back a huff and severed the mental connection between them. His friend could be such a merciless wench sometimes.

---

Tags: @Elle Joyner , @KatSea , @WingWong , @DarinValore , @Chile , @CloudyBlueDay

 

[Cwispy]

Belyth| Location: Tavern in Corbin, outside of Mulgrave| Interactions: Poor Bird Man, Group, Authorities

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Boy that was a... fight. Belyth was no stranger to combat. In his formative years he was a soldier for Cain'Parrel and then he moved on to being a gladiator in the pits. He'd always fought with a mixture of magic and guile, or just guile when he couldn't fight with magic. His sword had seen him through many encounters over the years and had never disappointed him. The thing about life or death fights is that they were swift and cold ordeals. After fights, when one could process what had happened in the flurry of biting steel, were either tumultuously painful on several levels, or powerfully triumphant.

This fight was neither of those. Belyth was left feeling worn from a grueling slog that seemed to last an eternity. He wasn't really paying attention when the last volley of arrows took out both harpies, leaving them feather-ended pin cushions. That severed the link between his spell and the dead harpy. Good riddance! But his relief was short lived. He looked towards their new saviors to see several armored men wearing various expressions of grim displeasure. Nausea rose in Belyth's throat and sweat beaded own his forehead.

He had the power to flee if he wanted.The forest wall was within spitting distance. Belyth could sprint beneath the boughs and then disappear into verdant sanctuary, leaving no trace behind. But he knew that even with his magic, his chances were still slim. Men had their way of hunting down magic-users, and he didn't want to stop and think what they would do to him if he didn't act cooperatively. A fire of anger rose within his chest, ringing the edge of his vision in blurred fury. It was a terrible injustice that he could be chased down like an animal, or worse, for merely being what he was.

His eyes darted between the drenched soldiers, his mind frantically trying to guess if they had seen what he had done. He couldn't tell with the rain creating a thin veil between them, the shadows from a swollen sky obscuring their features. He could tell that there was a beautiful woman among them, but her beauty only made the bile climb further in Belyth's throat. She was threin nonwen, those that do not know, and that made him sick. The anger and anxiety was bubbling in his chest, forcing it's way between his teeth, seething like the furious bellows of a writhing flame--

Slorp.

Belyth was shook at the sound, his eyes darting over to see the bird man face down in the mud, his feathered companion hopping up and down on his head... in glee?! Belyth had been around familiars and animal companions long enough to know when they were delightedly dining on their master's embarrassment. Belyth shot a glance over to Tyr who was busy licking his paw. The black cat was trying to not look at the cart wreck that was the bird boy as it was unfurling, but the devilish feline had a gleam in its eyes. Oh you think that's funny too don't you? Ort fein you monster. Tyr turned around and sauntered toward the tavern, his tail and haunches swinging high in the air.

Belyth rolled his eyes. He then walked over to the bird man and scooped him up under the arm and attempting to shoo away the bird that was clearly enjoying the man's pain. He looked between his group and the armed guards. He leveled a narrow gaze at them before returning to the bird man, tending to him attentively. He plucked the mask from the earth while hoisting him up, and then placed the mask back in his hands.

"Agnar you can explain what's going on here," he called out to him without looking in his direction, "Come friend. Let's get you cleaned up. You've helped a lot and you must be tired." Belyth tenderly walked with the masked man back through the tavern doors. As soon as he spotted the serving girl watching the commotion at the window, he narrowed his eyes in her direction. It seems that everyone delights in gawking around here.

"Aye you! Frilly lass! Quit yer gawkin' an go an' get a tub filled for ma mate here." He yelled at her with no amount of missing displeasure from his voice. He sat the bird man down at the table they were at before their breakfast was interrupted and pulled out a handkerchief from a pocket in his robes. He began to silently wipe away the mud from the man's hands, cleaning them carefully. Normally he would've started at his face, but he noticed the strange skin lacerations he had and was afraid he might make them worse. He didn't say anything about it, just curled up the handkerchief in bird man's hand and smiled at him. "You have mud all over you, friend."

 

[Toogee]

At long last, professional soldiers stepped and finished this farce of a battle. Leonard wasn't sure how much cringe he could take as Piper and the others fought like drunken babes in the woods. Even without the pressure of battle, the bird man was still tripping over himself. The only consolation the cat saw was that this wouldn't be a regular occurrence. It's not like they were a group of adventurers on some epic quest, fighting monsters every day. That wouldn't last long at all.

Normally, Leonard would jump into Piper's arms for warmth and attention. Currently, she was covered in mud and failure. "Ew, gross," the cat grimaced. He much preferred to stay in the shade of the tavern entrance and avoid getting wet from the rain. He mewed loudly to let his elf girl know that he was still hungry. The danger had passed, so it was time to attend to more important matters, like feeding the cat. Yes, Mulgrave soldiers would enforce the magic ban, but they would be harmless as along as everyone kept their mouths shut.

In short, keep calm and feed the cat

 

[KatSea]

Piper found herself thanking, cursing, and clawing at each and every god that crossed her mind the moment that their rescuers scurried along. Embarrassment thrummed dully in her veins as her hands came to rest along her knees, each breath that escaped her strained with internal frustration. Well that certainly went well. Lusina that...that should have been easier, I think. I don't freaking know. Agnar and I fought a godforsaken giant before...I killed a displacer beast before...why in hell are two harpies harder to fend off? Might have been the adrenaline of saving that kid as well. I certainly knew I had been distressed by that, and by the looks on other people's faces, I'm going to assume I'm not the only one. But still...it would be kind of amazing if we boasted our prowess to these...lovely individuals~

Wait. Did they see Bel and I do magic? Piper's expression went ghastly pale, a shade that pronounced a grimace along her brow. Swallowing hard, she gave herself two quick taps on the cheek to increase the blood flow, satisfied as heat raced back to her skin. She raised her thumb to skim the pan flute coiled around her neck, easily slipping it underneath her blouse and hiding it in the safety of her attire. Her lute still remained comfortably slumped along her back, remarkably intact despite the struggle that had occurred mere moments earlier. She reached behind her to give the neck a brief strum, making sure the strings had been firmly intact. They were a little loose, but a little tuning would soon clear that up. She wouldn't worry about that until later, probably after feeding Leonard dinner and reassessing her note, her treasure, and what in hell to do next. I...God, I wish mother would have told me this before I left for this long journey...I'm here now so I might as well get back what is mine, and now that we've got these crazy ass harpies and gargle of guardsmen, I'd lke to get out of here soon. Even if I don't end up getting Agnar or Bel's support.

Raising to her full height (which wasn't saying a terrible lot), Piper pinpointed her focus onto the nearest guard, a slim, devious smile soon curving underneath the shadow of her features. Brushing at her blouse, removing scuff and gunk from the fabric, she glided over to the troops of rescuers, barely having the strength to withhold a giggle as Grimm went face first into the mud below. Piper was tempted to grant him a hand, to pull him up and muse about his long distance heroics, but was relieved to see Bel already on the job. Mmm. At some point I'll pull that bird man aside and will properly introduce myself~ ...Is that an inappropriate thought? Wait, how do I coat my thoughts so they don't sound flirty? I...I'll have to figure that out later. For right now, mister hero over here~ ...Did I just do that again?

Shaking the train of thought off it's corroding rails, Piper draped her hair behind her back and bundled it into a messy contraption within her hands. She found herself face to face with the very, handsome, muscular, brave...Woo, scars really did something on a man didn't they... Focus. Remember, this isn't a conquest or a job, love. Sucking in a shallow breath, she glanced up at the knight in question and gave him a respectful bow of her head. "Sir, thank you so much for assisting us here...A poor child had gotten stuck in an overturn carriage and we were trying to help when those...things came out of nowhere. We sprung into help and honestly, without you here, probably would have been mincemeat." Chuckling, she heartily patted the sheath of her rapier before shaking her head and continuing "Um...is there a chance one of you can examine the kid? I think some more...professional help is gonna be better than what any of us can do."

A sudden, familiar mew caught the young half elf off guard, and she immediately became flushed despite the fact it had been a descent clamber away. Ah crap I didn't feed him this morning did I...Leonard sweetie go find a bird or something I'll be over soon. I just pray he isn't gonna cause mayhem in the next five minutes...

 

[DarinValore]

Agnar's chest rose and fell as he stood with his ax in hand as he stood staring at the arrow-riddled harpies. He cursed the weather for his ineffectiveness. He cursed the guards' horrible timing in not showing up sooner. The rag-tag team of rescuers had definitely seen better days, but now, as he finally looked away and scanned the crowd that had begun to congregate just outside of the tavern and the presence of the guards, his frustration was replaced with a sense of trepidation. He was no fool, magic was used by people in his company...namely Piper, his friend.

If she kept talking to the guards, she was likely to say too much, or attract unwanted attention and comments from the on-lookers. He was going to have to get her away from the guards and as quickly as possible...but how. Looking once more at the harpies on the ground to ensure they wouldn't suddenly spring back up, he secured his ax to his back when he was satisfied that they were down for the count. A nagging pain shot up from his side drawing his attention. Of course, he thought. While it didn't hurt terribly bad, the bruise already forming beneath the chain mail probably looked as though it did. He'd use that to drag Piper away and hopefully to a far safer environment in the tavern.

Taking position just a step or two behind Piper, he reached out and grabbed her by the arm to get her attention, "This way. I could use your help," he tried to guide her toward the tavern as he turned to face the guards, "I took a club to the side," he winced as he lifted his other arm revealing the disheveled mail visible even in the stormy darkness, "Damn things hit harder than they look capable of," he flashed a weary, painful smile, "Since it seems you've gotten your explanation and the situation under control, do you think we could get back to the tavern so that we could tend to this and see just how much damage was done?"

 

[Elle Joyner]

A wheezing laugh echoes from behind the four warriors as with a soupy squelch, Grimm finds himself face first in the mud, and curving alongside the half-orc, a stumpy dwarven man appears. The laughter echoes in his eyes, even as they scrutinize the now mud-sodden man, and when his comrade leads him inside, the dwarf tugs on one of the men in the group before whispering something. Shortly thereafter, he follows along.

The perceived leader of the group, meanwhile, turns to Piper as she approaches, and while he doesn't move from his position, there is a nearly imperceptible twitch of his hand on the sword, belted at his hip. As she speaks, he listens attentively, and if there is any indication of belief or disbelief, it isn't found in his features. Slowly, his gaze shifts to the boy, currently With a solemn nod, he gestures to the tavern.

"These beasts... They're growing more and more reckless. Something in the swamp, riling them up. Third attack this month of this sort, and the last two, well, they weren't so lucky as your lot. Perhaps we'd best get out of this rain, and tend to this boy?"

"...Dec…" This from the female, who approaches their leader's side, "We shouldn't leave the bodies out here. Just in case..."

Following her gesture, Declan's eyes scan the two bodies lying prone near the broken down cart, and with a terse bob of his head, he looked to the others, "Right. Take Thad and get them in the dirt…"

"Got it…" Finger raised, the woman jabs it casually towards Brand, "Boy… we could use some help, here. And would someone get that damn cat?" Turning, without waiting for a reponse, the woman starts towards the harpies, followed by the long, languid steps of the attractive male half-orc, fingers curling around a broad jawline.

"Come, lad." His dulcet baritone barks towards Brand, "You can take the feet."

Declan, meanwhile, shifts his attention back to those few that remain, before a guiding hand unfurls towards the tavern, "After you."

Inside, the party is met by the boy's father, rising from where he crouched beside his son. He wears features of pure panic, and knotting together his hands, he looks imploringly, "Please… He won't wake. Can someone…"

"Allow me…" One of the newcomers answers, moving to the boy's side. The man, attractive as he is tall, digs into the pockets of his red tunic for a cloth. This, he uses to push back the lad's eyelids. Frowning, he investigates Tully's torso, and a grimace marks his discoveries, "It isn't good… Have we any draughts, Dec? The boy is in dire need of healing…"

Shaking his head, Declan frowns, "I'm sorry… We used the last on that couple outside of Whitecraven…"

"N-no… Please. There must be something you can do!" The boy's father pleads.

Across the tavern, the dwarven figure approaches Beyleth and Grimm, hands on his hips as he meets the pair with a merry smile, "'Scuze the intrusion, boyos. Murtog's the name. Don't mean no interruption… Just not every day these old eyes chance to see a Pact Elf. That is… If I'm not mistaken? Otherwise, I'm afraid your friend here's got a mad case of Sphinx Pox… Where you folks hail from, Lad?"

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TAGS ||

With Thad and Fiona - @CloudyBlueDay - Brand
With Declan and Freddy - @KatSea, @DarinValore, @WingWong, @Toogee - Piper, Agnar, Sienna, Leonard
With Murtog - @Chile, @Mobley Eats - Beyleth, Grimm

 

[KatSea]

Piper - Status - Needing some Ale and Company

Piper briefly stiffened at the sound of crunching footsteps behind her and the sudden grasp upon her arm, but the moment Agnar's voice sprung to life, her body slumped considerably. "Ah...hell Agnar...Just glad those feathery bitches are dead. I don't know if I'll be able to do much for you, love, but I'll try my best and see what I can do." Tentatively, she outstretched her fingers in an attempt to skim over the battered armor, but she swiftly retreated. She couldn't quit pinpoint the extent of the damage, and there was no way in hell she was going to try and patch him up while the problem remained hidden beneath his attire. No, she'd rather have multiple examinations in a less...muddy environment.

"Come on, Agnar, I gotcha." Placing a light and small hand against the small of her friend's back, she turned towards Declan with a frown of sudden acknowledgement. The boy...Good God...She inhaled sharply, the huff of oxygen barely able to pass through her clenched teeth. "Third time this month..." Cursing in her mother tongue, Piper used her free hand to scrape her braids from her hair and tangle them back in the locks of her mane. Something was riling them up? What the hell could that have been? The only thing she could conjure was a beast in their territory. Perhaps chasing them out? Stealing up their food supplies? She wasn't sure, but whatever it ended up being, it did not bode well with her. She was just relieved that she had been here to help out Agnar when she had. Imagine, her adventuring out and about while he got gobbled up by monsters? She would have used the term women, and as much as she knew her friend, she had a feeling he would far prefer death by enchantress than death by harpy..

Shaking her head as she snapped back into action, she bobbed her head, eyes flickering from her friend to the guard in front of her. "Of course, sir, right this way...Leonard!" She called out sharply, raising two fingers to her mouth to let out a shrill whistle. "I got jerky for you!" Hopefully that would work...she preferred it when she had her cat right by her side. Two main reasons warranted this, one being that she liked having him close by in the case of danger. The second being that she enjoyed scratching behind his ears when she was anxious and he was always such a good boy...kneading into her tights was another story but she couldn't blame the damn thing.

Sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, Piper quickly escorted the men back into the tavern, eyes scrunching close as they threatened to catch sight of the boy. Asleep, lying beside his panicking father. He didn't seem to be waking up, nor did he seem as if he would for a very long time...or if at all. Her hand briefly hovered above Agnar's forearm, as if to squeeze it, to ground herself into reality without the shattering of her heart tearing her to the floor. Watching men die was one thing, watching young children die from it was another. Children still had the potential to be good. They did not have malice in their hearts and they could live and express their joys and hopes without restraint. They were precious gifts, and the longer she forced herself to hear to the pleas of the father, the greater the magnitude of her own chest tremors became. Releasing Agnar, she opened her eyes to find that her vision had grown blurry. No, no, this was no time to find herself weary and sorrowful. She refused to watch this boy suffer, even when she found her strength had left her.

Finding herself besides the boy, she gave a swift glance to the father and murmured "Do not lose hope yet, sir. I have faith, and you should too. Sometimes that's what you need." Grasping the boy's wrist between her fingers, she bowed her head in respect, a swift muttering of elvish dancing across her tongue.

"Goddess of my life, I know I do not always act with the best intentions, with selfless and pure desires in mind. I do not always talk to you on the behalf of others, but to better benefits myself, and for that I am greatly sorry. That is not why you are my goddess above all. I love and worship you because you show me kindness and the beauty of music, and you know the beauty a child can give to ones life...." Inhaling as the peace and familiarity of prayer washed over her, she gingerly squeezed the boy's wrist once more. "I plead with you, goddess of my life, protect and nurture him. Keep him under your gaze and heal him from this trauma. Let him see the beauty of the music you make. Know the preciousness and meaning he gives to his fathers life. I vow to uphold you in all that I do, no matter what. Please, heed my prayer. Thank you, for all that you do."

With the last word of elvish slipping from her breath, she raised her head, running her thumb in soothing circles against the boy's skin. Under her breath she began to hum, a tune she knew and cherished by heart. "Sweet boy, hang on a little longer, yeah? Your father loves you dearly, and I can tell you, when you wake up, you are gonna pray that there was not such a thing as too many hugs..."