Ray Heart (Completed/Finished)

[Elvario]

Verity
​

Interactions: Solomon @Ur Degaton

Verity sighed, partially out of tiredness, partially out of despair, when both Kaz and Gattas we eager to join the newfound trouble. The latter one, despite being the owner of this place, even went ahead and started clobbering some skulls of his own. That's the point at which Verity decided to give up on whatever this mess was. Investigating any of these fools wasn't likely to lead her to something of interest. If anything, she might end up taking a dip in intellect of she were to stick around for too long. She turned towards Solomon. "There won't be much investigating to do when the entire tavern is in this kind of mess, so I'll be returning to my home. I'll probably meet up with the baroness to ask her some questions tomorrow. If you wish to stick around with this bunch, I wish you all the good luck in the world."

Having informed her colleague, she felt like she'd lived up to whatever responsibility she had here, so she left Cringing Cockatrice to find her way back home (to whatever kind of housing a single Eldritch Knight could afford, whether that was an actual house or a dorm room in some barracks). Upon arriving at her home (assuming nothing prevented her from getting there), she'd take a quick bath and write a note to remind herself to visit the Lean Maple Inn once she'd rested up.

 

[TheEccentric]

Not unexpectedly, the arrival of Gattas quickly caused the scenario to disengage from its drunken revelry into a barbaric way of collecting funds for damages. Much like most taverns in any bustling settlement, a lack of drunkards and troublemakers never became a cause for concern or consideration. Unfortunately for those that dared to stick their neck out in his tavern, they'd feel the much needed clobbering to push them into turtleshells. Aside from that though, his own style of treating ruffians is a form of advertisement on its own since his small frame and one-armed conditions are always subjects of faded recollections when drunk from his wares, or lightheaded from his beatings. With the evening ending on the same note as it usually does, with a slight difference of him personally bringing guests and patrons, his wifey dearest made no extra effort to spit fire at him when she learned the news. Per usual, most of the words just drop like dead flies in the face of his simple-but-slowly-developing vocabulary.

He made certain to provide rooms for the needy, and offered his farewells to those that left, and made certain to pressure the defeated knuckleheads to hand in a portion of their coin to repair the damaged furniture. When peace finally resumed, and as evening continued to cycle towards dusk, Gattas finally got a moment of silence for himself. He made sure to check the taps, evaluate their stock of raw ingredients for their food, carried the empty barrels out and brought the full ones in, and lastly, he cleaned the counter, his pride and joy. A clean counter is a clean service for a bartender, a task he applies to himself when he's free. Spilling drinks on it was one thing, but damaging it is to disregard his face, and this train of thought made him grimace as he remembered an incident back then. Now those were tough times, being new and unaccustomed to being the one behind the counter. Nothing a few shakes of his head couldn't deal with as they quickly got tossed at the back of his mind like most things.

Just as he was about to rest for the night though, he turned to an empty corner of the room and considered a few things. With the burning of the midnight oil today, he'd probably be waking up late into the day, and his age didn't help now that he felt the joys of resting for longer periods. Before going to the private areas of his inn to wake his children, he went back and grabbed a piece of paper and a charcoal stick. Seated on a high chair as he leaned against his counter, he quickly wrote down the significant things his Eldritch Knight associates were inquiring into. He wrote down Yeothal, and then frowned, and wrote it again in varying spellings because he was unsure how to spell it. Aside from that, he also wrote down details on the baroness, and the descriptions that Lady Verity gave him about the fellow that offered the guards compensation for clamped lips. Finishing that, he discreetly folded it until it was now much smaller and bulkier, and went to the empty corner of the room, where a table and built-in chairs with cheap cushions were.

A rag in his other hand, he made the appearance of going to the table to clean it. While he used his height to disappear from prying eyes, he displaced the cushions by switching their positions in a specific manner. Then, he gingerly shoved the piece of paper in a slight opening of the thickest one, so that whoever sat on it wouldn't fee the bump. He smiled to himself, impressed again by his wife's sharp wit when she suggested this method for giving a heads-up to his Birds. An internal sigh glimmered in his eyes as he gave a mental thumbs up at the informants that risked their lives for the juiciest gossip and the latest whispers. As for why he called them Birds, he just noticed that there were almost always birds on his windowsill or the branches of trees near his windows. Since he had the tendency to leave the curtains tied to let the warm sun's light hug him, he's come to align them with the idea of always being in the background of his privacy.

That aside, he disengaged himself from the scene and quickly woke up his other kids to take his place, since their sibling meant for the evening already left when he arrived. By the time he entered his room, his wife was just about to stir awake. This made a smile of comfort appear on his face as he squirmed into bed, gave his darling wife a peck on the cheeks and ended his long day. Truly, the responsibility of a business owner and a father are heavy!

 

[Wiggin]

\/~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\/
Thorne Glowbrew
/\~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/\​

Thorne didn't even notice that Naeva was also in the alleyway, having watched him flee. Thorne's best bet was to head to somewhere crowded, somewhere where it would be noticeable that there was an attack of some sort going on. The location that Thorne ran towards was the marketplace, deeming it the closest and most crowded area. The problem was that this assassin was gaining on him, and he needed to gain distance somehow. Teleporting a few meters could work, but that might also hinder Thorne's own perception of the area as he would adjust after each warp.

A solution then came to mind, as it wouldn't require as much fine tuned aiming as the action he had tried to attempt in the shop. Thorne quickly sheathed his blade and tossed his crossbow to his other hand, aiming it straight forward. He then shot, and warped the bolt so that it would reverse and go the other direction. It didn't matter if the shots hit or not, they just needed to provide a distraction.

 

[CaptainLiterally]

Navea's silent breathing loudened somewhat precariously as she saw the blood drip from Thorne's knife. Her curiosity about her bizarre surroundings narrowed into a deep interest in the threat Thorne was facing and what he did to get himself in such a predicament, especially one where he seemed overwhelmed.

A quick blast of cold air flew into her face, blowing strands of hair from the tight ponytail at the nape of her neck. Navea's inquisitiveness evaporated as the decision to flee or fight wracked her brain. It would not be the last time such a dangerous answer swam around her mind for not quite long enough.

Navea sprung into action, attempting to quickly and silently trail the black-clad assassin while simultaneously trying to pick up as much information as possible before blindly attacking this new enemy.

As she was crouching through the shadows, an arrow suddenly whizzed through the alley.

Now or never.

Navea hoped desperately that the assailant's assailant was at least looking where they were shooting, but she was glad for the distraction either way. She quickly slid from the shadows forward towards the assassin and attacked from behind, initially trying to use him as a human shield from the erratic arrows. If he turned to fight her instead of chasing Thorne, she would continue to try to keep his back to the arrows rather than her own. She hoped the bolts provided enough of an advantage to make up for the loss of her usual fighting technique that would require lots of erratic movement into the path of the projectiles. Her daggers flew in her hands to kill or at least distract, and the use of her other limbs in defense did not go in vain as she attempted to fight the assassin.

 

[slifer]

The merfolk had just finished wrapping his own wounds when Solomon the Eldritch Knight approached him with a drink. Kyrian accepted the potion from the knight named Solomon. He studied it for a moment, shrugged, before chugging it down. Hopefully he became clean, which would only make him feel better, and less likely to get diseases.


Before he went upstairs, Kyrian approached Gattas when he was alone and by himself, appreciative of what the goblin had done. "Thank you, Gattas. If you need me, just ask. I do all sorts of blessings as well as healing, and I officate weddings. Just ask for Kyrian Zamir and I'll find you." He waited for a response, then went off to his designated room.

Whatever healing to himself and the others they would let him do was accomplished, and now he could go to sleep in the bed he was provided. The noise didn't bother Kyrian much, as he was used to sleeping in most conditions. He just undressed to his underclothes, keeping his special pouch on him before going under the rough yet clean sheets. He pulled the covers over his shoulders, sent a soft prayer to his god, and went to sleep, mostly dead to the world.

 

[Novama]

@Wiggin @ShiroKiyoshi @slifer @Elvario @Ur Degaton @Skyhunter @TheEccentric @The_Queer_Alien @CaptainLiterally

( ... )

Thorne's bolt flew straight behind him into the dark alley. The blind shot nearly hit Naeva, but she evaded as she moved into action to harass the would-be assassin. Shortly after Naeva engaged the ninja, Thorne escaped the dark street for a lit-main avenue that would lead to the market. The time of night did not warrant many people in the streets and all the market shops and stalls would be closed at this late hour. However, despite the lack of people to provide cover for Thorne's escape, the Ninja withdrew into darkness, fleeing from Naeva as well. While the elf proved to be a capable distraction, the ninja proved too evasive, so she would be left reclaiming her knives in the dark alley.

Thorne would escape execution that night, but the wounds he received from the 2 attackers would take considerable time to heal without magic and would impede his physical activities until they were properly recovered. A good night's rest would also be a stressful endeavor. Who knew when his pursuers would return to finish the job.

Elsewhere the rest of the party would eventually find places to settle down for the night. The quality of rest would vary, especially for those nursing wounds are sleeping in unusual places. Anyone with wounds will need magical healing before they will feel the full benefits of rest. Anyone simply tuckered from the day will find themselves enjoying slumber much more fully. (those with wounds will recover up to half health. those that took damage but not enough to receive a wound will full heal)

The next day...

The Cringing Cockatrice was a practical ghost town. All patrons including the passed out had been given a room or kicked out into the street so there were no patrons other than the few who woke up and came down stairs for a late breakfast. That was the case, at least, until one Yeothal and his band of fellows came strolling into the place. It seemed they had money to spend and they jingled ever so slightly as they walked. Taking a table large enough for the 5 of them, they lounged as they pleased and called for a server to bring out breakfast and drink as they tossed a hefty bag of coins on the table making it clear they intended to linger and make the most of the morning. Some of the men seemed to be bandaged but all were in high spirits.

Elsewhere in town...

In a certain city manor belonging to a Marquis Rook, a wedding ceremony was being prepared for later that day. The venue was set and thoroughly decorated. The guests had been trickling into the city and arriving at the manor in carriages since the previous day. Despite the preparedness of the staff, the many servants and guests coming and going made the whole home and property a hectic scene. Adding to the chaos was the absence of Marquis Rook who was supposed to wed Lady Debora Harven, Countess, later that day. The bride was making an audible fuss over the situation. When she got to a point that she could only be given time to console herself, one Maspira VonRichten was shoved out of the dressing room with the rest of the women supporting the bride. Sighing, the baronness joined her guards who waited outside and began making her rounds of the property to assist where she could.

Another noteable absense that morning was the priest that would conduct the ceremony: Kyrian Zamir. Along with the lord of the manor, the staff urgently looked into whereabouts of the priest. A few errand boys were sent to the likely locations for both men. Fortunately, the wedding wasn't supposed to happen for some hours yet giving all some time.

 

[Elvario]

Verity
​

Verity was walking through the city, having had a quick and simple breakfast while sharing some good morning greetings to her colleagues at the barracks. While she might be able to afford a cottage, she had a good reason to stay here instead. After all, with her very specific type of magic, it was good to stay in contact with the other knights and to stay on friendly terms with them, as she'd need to rely on them for all the heavy-handed work that she wasn't able to pull off on her own. She also liked acting like a mentor whenever she sensed someone who's emotions were particularly negative, using her magic to sense the state of those around her regardless of how well of a poker-face someone was able to maintain. Anyhow, that was for another day.

Right now, she was wondering why the baroness that she was looking for wasn't at the location she said she'd be at. Upon approaching the staff of the Lean Maple Inn, she eventually got redirected towards a wedding that was taking place. This left her an a bit of an awkward situation. She was never fond of being a wedding-crasher, but she did want to find out if the baroness had any idea as to who would organise an attack against her. After debating her options for a bit, she eventually decided to set out towards the manor of Marquis Rook.

She didn't need her magic to realise something wasn't going right with this wedding, if the staff running around was any indication. Barging straight into the mansion itself would probably not be the best of her options, so she looked around to see if there was anyone stationed to receive guests, to whom she would be able to explain her situation and inquire as to what seemed to be wrong. Upon spotting someone approach-able, she'd speak up. "Ah, apologies, but I was hoping to speak with baroness VonRichter. However, I couldn't help but notice that something seems awry here. Is there anything I could help with?"

 

[Skyhunter]

As the night progressed, Kaz did his best to stay on good behavior, and believe him. It really is hard to not fight, kill, or commence the bloodshed! Kaz was a wildling to the core, that was what he knew and taught growing up back in his tribes. They didn't have large buildings like this: taverns, inns, brothels(Whatever those are. Smells disgusting.), shops and more. Civilization was nonexistent where he came from, it was more free, primitive, violent. Kaz enjoyed those aspects but he had no one back home, his own people hated him because of what he was. Though that was the past, he was here now. A continent away where civilization prospered. Rules, laws, authority, hierarchy. What a joke. Although Kaz has met a lot of interesting people since his departure, he has learned a lot of how this world works. It was very strange to him but it was somewhat comforting, he felt more... Sane, he couldn't find the words. Hell, meeting the few people he did that actually did talk to him, he has come to like. Even though one called him a psychopath, that guy was a grump and doesn't understand what it was like out there.

Because Kaz made sure not to get into fights, he spent a lot of his time alone in the back of the tavern, reflecting on himself and his powers. While he was a crazed and unhinged man, reflection was always a key to a successful next fight. But deep down. He could feel it. He could feel the blood. It called to him. It needed to be spilled, to be shed. Almost like a gnawing on the back of your shoulder that you couldn't reach. Progressively getting worst and worst. It kept gnawing. Gnawing. Biting. This woke Kaz up, he was breathing heavily, making sure no one saw him or watched him. Kaz needed blood. He needed to eat. Hunger. Consume. Blood. Kaz watched the patrons of the tavern continue to drink and eat and celebrate. Seeing these drunkards, they would be easy prey. Kaz turned his head to one of the windows, night. The hunger gnawed at him. How many days has it been since he last killed? Three days? Four days? Why was he cursed with needing to shed blood? Kaz stood up abruptly and quickly made his way out of the tavern. He couldn't handle it... He was going to burn this city down if he didn't shed blood soon.

As the night progressed, near the tavern, within a alleyway, the sound of flesh being ripped and blood shedding could ever be heard quietly behind some rubble, just around this corner, a poor passerby, laid upon the ground with Kaz leaning over the victim, having his teeth sunk into the neck. Like a dog with a toy or bone, shook his head violent and ripped out their throat, blood splattering on the ground, walls, corpse and Kaz' body. Kaz spit out the flesh into his hand looking it over, he didn't like the taste, everyone here tasted tainted. Kaz bit into the fresh flesh and began to consume, whether he liked it or not, he needed blood and meat. After eating this large chunk, Kaz began to bite into the face of the victim and eat what meat he could chew and swallow. Eventually he sat back against the wall. Staring at the body, satisfying his lust for blood and meat. Staring at the now unrecognizable corpse he couldn't help but feel... Bad. This person didn't deserve to die, even though Kaz would have gone on a rampage, he needed to feed the beast within him. This bloodlust was a curse. A blight upon him, curse his damn Deity for doing this!

Kaz clenched his teeth and growled, full of frustration. This is why his God needs to die. Kaz stood up, luckily for him he was able to strip the poor individual down before satisfying his lust for violence. Kaz picked up the clothes he had looted and looked them over, pretty basic. A peasant's. As what these damn clean nobles around would say, what a joke. Kaz only needed a shirt until he looked at his own outfit, bloodstained. Well lucky for him they were black so the blood was hard to see but he could damn well smell it. Oh well, he didn't really care for smelling bad, he was used to not bathing. Probably would fit in. Kaz took the shirt and threw it on, ah. Perfect fit. Kaz looked over the basic clothing, dark blue tunic with holes. Nice. Just the way Kaz liked it.

Finally happy with himself, Kaz headed back to the tavern, since no one was out at this time of night, early hours in the morning. Kaz walked on into the tavern, not seeing many people now as he headed upstairs to one of the rooms. He tried opening a couple but they were all locked until! Creeeeeeak. Kaz popped his head on in staring into the room then eventually he moved on in the room to see a figure sleeping in a bed. Kaz closed the door quietly and approached the sleeping body. It smelled a bit stinky like bad dung, oh lords, it made Kaz' eyes burned a bit, but after rubbing them he felt fine. He looked at the figure to see it was that damn healer! Kyrian! Kaz looked at the bed seeing it was a bit too small for the both of them to fit in it. He shrugged, he looked out of it and from what he remembered, Kyrian was pretty badly hurt. Kaz decided to let him rest, since he helped Kaz out previously. The crazed man decided sleeping under the bed would be best, out of the way and probably a lot more comfortable. He used to sleeping on rocks and thorns.

Kaz rolled under the bed easily and got himself comfy, swallowing a bit and taking deep breaths to calm himself, closing his eyes. Kaz eventually let darkness consume him.....

As morning came, Kaz came rolling from under the bed and stared at the ceiling. Oh great balls of the Blood Emperor he felt fantastic. Kaz jumped to his feet with the movement of his back, smiling already. He looked to Kyrian to see he was still asleep, Kaz was a very light sleeper, he had to be. Back home other tribesmen would jump you in your sleep, if you were too heavy of a sleeper you were dead. Kaz learned that very quickly, he didn't need much rest to keep going, a few hours at most. But he felt great too, more aware, he probably wouldn't be acting as crazy for a couple days. Kaz smiled at the sleeping Kyrian before he turned and walked on out the room, closing it behind him quietly. He leaned against the door for a few moments to gather his thoughts. He survived another night. Time to move on.

 

[Wiggin]

\/~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\/
Thorne Glowbrew
/\~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/\​

Somehow Thorne had made his escape from the assassins, but it wasn't without cost. His arm was nearly shattered, being made of bone, and the same thing had nearly happened to a few of his ribs. Thorne was unsure of what had assisted him in his escape, but he wasn't going to go back to check for the risk of running back into the hands of the enemy. Thorne spent most of the night moving alleyway to alleyway while trying to nurture his arm. He had stolen a shirt from a hanging clothesline to tie a makeshift sling to hold it. After the night of stress, he eventually made it to a bar of sorts. The sign above read "the cringing cockatrice" but Thorne was too tired to pay much attention to what it was called.

It was morning when Thorne stumbled in, quietly following behind a group of individuals who sat at a central table. Thorne for the most part slinked to a corner of the tavern to an area that wouldn't be seen. It was mostly empty, aside from the normal day-drunk who was stumbling around. Thorne needed to gather his thoughts and make a plan, he tried to recall exactly who the person had hired him was and gather as many clues from his memory as possible. He also tried to thumb through his memory of who could heal him, and if he was in good spirits with them or not. He had switched masks at this point, changing from the bright red fox mask to a dull blue. It wasn't going to fully cover up who he was, but it would at least give him time to escape if someone thought they recognized him.

 

[CaptainLiterally]

Navea's stood in the center of the alley for several seconds too long, scratching her head. She was supposed to be the evasive one, not the knife-wielding brute who swung their fists around hoping it would make contact with flesh. Fortunately, it was night outside, and so no one was there to judge her rather embarrassing performance. Navea began to trot in Thorne's wake in hopes of tracking him down. As she did so, she began to hold her head a little higher. It's not every day someone was able to successfully distract a ninja assassin. Plus, she had gained a favor.

As she continued through the alleyway, she tried not to think too hard about the pressing problems she had just acquired. Had she possibly gained a new enemy that could navigate the shadows better than she could? Could he possibly be trailing her at this very moment? Intrigue began to infect her worries. Who was the masked assassin? What had Thorne done to deserve his wrath?

It was then when she realized she was totally lost. Not that she didn't know where she was, but that she had no idea where her feet were taking her. Thorne, in eluding the assassin, eluded her as well, leaving her to wander aimlessly through the alleys.

The clouds she exhaled seemed to become more and more invisible as the minutes passed as the sunlight began to creep into the nighttime. Tire seeped into her eyes once more. Had she truly wasted the entire night and almost her life for nothing? Well, almost nothing. The idea of a late morning spent at a certain Cockatrice would provide a perfect send-off to an interesting day.

Navea sauntered into the Cringing Cockatrice with her head high and her sleepy eyes drooping. Although the place seemed less inviting without its usual plethora of rowdy patrons, it was nonetheless a welcoming sight. She sat herself down at a smaller table next to a wall and rested her feet on the table as she took out a small notepad and a pencil and placed them on the table in front of her. With this, she hoped her nap would appear to look somewhat like productivity as she drifted to sleep.

 

[slifer]

Kyrian awoke with a groan, his body aching from last night's encounter. Magic sparks were travelling across his skin- a gift from his god. His magic strove to protect him, so it healed him slowly overnight. At least he was clean enough before the wedding today....shit. With renewed energy that only came from panic, Kyrian picked himself up and left the room, heading to the bathroom to monopolize it for himself- as he would have to appear in front of quite a few powerful people today. If he hadn't memorized the words and the scriptures already, he probably would have been screwed.

In his tired state, Kyrian had made a mistake- one that could have poisoned him. The potion he had drank had been meant to be poured on himself rather than drank. Luckily for him, the consequences weren't as severe as they could have been- he was clean from the inside out. Sure, he had gotten what felt like diarrhea, but it was worrying that what came out of him actually made bathroom cleaner rather than dirtier.

Kyrian was looking in a mirror, trying to fix himself up as nicely as he could when he spotted freaking Kaz Bloodhawk himself roll out from underneath his bead. Kyrian jumped a little before letting out a curse interwoven with Kasm's name at the sight of the man, but kept on combing his hair in place. He didn't have time for the man, as he had an "important" wedding to officiate. "I would appreciate it if you didn't sleep under my bed. If you're going to share my room, you could at least not sneak in like a common criminal." Kyrian said with a sigh, using his hands to try and smooth the wrinkles in his robes. He did smell clean and fresh, which was a plus- thanks to Solomon's powerful potion. His magic had probably used the potion as an aid to make it work inside and out on him. Though soon he would leave the room, looking tired but surprisingly well put together. He needed food, and then he needed to make his way to the church. It was no sweat off his back if the wedding actually happened, considering he would be paid regardless of the outcome of the wedding.

 

[Ur Degaton]

As the night passed, he couldn't get any sleep. Sleep was for those with quiet minds, and he knew that his mind was far from quiet. His madness is of a traumatic sort, not like the wildness of Kaz or barely corked battle-lust of Gattas. More like a deep rage that's always present at the pit of his stomach. He'd learned to ignore the primal fire at the center of his soul, but some nights it became difficult, especially when he was inebriated and away from his humble abode.

So he sat there on the bed within his rented room, bottle of mushroom whiskey in hand. He had procured the alcohol from the bar downstairs shortly after giving out his potion to anyone that needed it. Throughout the night he would periodically take long swigs from the grey bottle, not caring how strong the substance was as it quickly made him intoxicated. When he was drunk, he was mad, as his memories gathered at the forefront of his mind and forced him to reminisce about his youth. Being the black sheep of any family would make anyone unhinged, he was no exception to this fact. And as he remembered all of the abuse and suffering he had endured at the hands of his kin, he became more and more enraged. By the time it was midnight his eyes were bloodshot and his face was adorned with the most wicked scowl a man can have.

"If you ever want to be an adventurer, you need to grow some hair on your balls."Maxwell Aquila barked as he pushed Solomon's head further under the icy depths of the river.

"I... Can't.... Breathe!!" Solomon shouted between mouthfuls of water, struggling in vain against the colossal strength of his father.

"Then hold your breath you fucking dandy!" Maxwell shouted before once again dunking Solomon underwater. Despite the water clouding his vision, the young boy could barely make out the figures of his siblings, watching from the bank. He could've swore he heard them giggling to themselves.

Solomon stared into space as he thought about that horrid day. Blinking wearily every thirty seconds like a mindless vegetable. As he tried to take another swig from the bottle he realized that it was empty. He stared at the bottle for a few seconds before casually dropping it to the floor with an audible thud. Getting up with a grunt, he walked over to the door in only two strides before aggressively ripping it open. He walked downstairs and into the main area where the rowdy crowd was still as rambunctious as before. He needed to get rid of his rage, lest it consume him and he does something regrettable. A furious and drunk mage was not something anyone wanted, especially when they knew magic that would make even the most battle hardened warlords recoil in disgust.

He watched as another fight almost breaks out, this time between two barbarian looking individuals sporting almost comically large wooden clubs, they were both in a large fighting circle that the crowd formed to allow the two enough space to duke it out. But before the two troglodytes can initiate any kind of combat, Solomon sends a cutting spell at their weapons, slicing the glorified battering rams in half with ease. Solomon doesn't bother to see the pair's reaction as he walked into the circle with a challenging stride. He looked around at the crowd with poorly concealed rage. "300 gold to the warrior that can knock me out," Before anyone in the crowd can respond to the challenge, Solomon channeled a spell into his foot and stomps down onto the wooden floor with a resounding crash. The floorboards splintered as sharp shrapnels of wood are sent darting in all directions. Not fast enough to seriously hurt anyone, but enough to give anyone hit bleeding lacerations. As he summoned a lightning bolt in one hand, and a small boulder in the other, he couldn't help but smile. It was gonna be a violent night.

Solomon groaned as he painfully opened his eyes. His whole body hurt, like every part of his skin had been bruised or damaged in some way, shape, or form. As he sat up and looked around took in the sight of a room that was surprisingly not destroyed. Whether that was due to the room being magical, or a magical individual mending any damage he had done last night is unknown. His head pounded like a stampede as the alcohol in his system left unpleasant side effects. Last night was a blur to him, he remembered taking a sip from some of the alcohol and then nothing. But judging by his resting place on a shattered table, it was safe to assume that a lot of fighting and a lot of action happened. He groaned in pain as he stumbled to his feet, he needed water, and some herbal remedy.

 

[Soverign]

In the early morning Baloc's hammer sang with practiced tones of metals colliding. Baloc wore only leathers and tied her braids together behind her head. Her hands and mind focused on the work she had been focused on for near a week. The steel she hammered wasn't the work but simply a break from the grueling task of perfecting the weapons she was making. Once asked to make wedding gifts nearly two weeks before she had thought it was a joke. She crafted weapons mainly and armor if she knew enough, but once the request was made clear it became her entire focus.

Stopping her distraction she placed it in her oil tub and pulled it out letting the flame die down and the blade harden. Placing it aside she wiped her hands looking at the displayed weapons she nearly had completed. They may be for a marriage but the works themselves couldn't be more different. The one for the male of the partnership is an acid gold engraved blade that was light in the hand but just heavy enough to bring lethal force on it's target. The pommel had light but strong metal guards to protect the hand that being the home for the details and decorative etching. She had made an error on the blade early on and upon testing it had snapped the blade upon testing. The fact it was nearly complete gave her some pride in her craft.

However the second piece was what gave her the most headaches. It was surprising to her that she even made it. Sure she had made Shurikens, daggers, even several exotic blades from other lands. But what her soul had dedicated as the best option was a decorated hand fan that had metal that was beautifully crafted and etched to befit royalty. Trying to get it to work and be practical was her greatest issue. Gripping the hand fan in her minds touch it floated off the table and approached her 'It looks solid and survived testing. I think you will make me proud' She thought to herself. Her inner voice being the only voice she makes. The headaches involving this weapon was it was made to be delicate but lethal. Placing the weapon in her hand she held the fan with her four fingers entering designated finger holes for better grip. while her thumb supported it in a groove where it fit. Giving her best and doomed attempted to act the true noble and use it lady like. Once she was satisfied the sky blue fabric could produce enough current she tightened her hand as her thumb flicked a switch causing blades to greet the world where the fan strands held the fabric together. The blades were thin but she had cut an insect in half with them in the testing phase.

Looking out she took in a breath and sighed in satisfaction as the sun was rising. Cleaning up she spread her arms wide and soon her armor was flung by her minds touch wrapping her in it and securing it. Nearly two dozen weapons joined the armor securing themselves in grooves in the armor itself or in pouches designed for them. Now was the more civilized part she had to do. Having known it was a wedding she had procured white silk to cover her shoulders falling in the front and back of her armor in a graceful way. Though she never liked the requirements of nobility or such a political life her name and works were going to be gifted. She had best look the part. Attaching more decorative silks to her armor that could be removed later Baloc began packing the gifts in specialized sheath and box with utmost care.

Before she even got out the door holding the gifts she winced. Not in clear pain but uncomfortable anxiety. She had made swords or other desired weapons for nobles. Her family even when they wanted something for a name day present. But to supply gifts at a wedding to individuals who could make or break a smith's name is something she hadn't considered in her time here.

Looking around she sighed needing to take the edge off. Eyes wandering she spotted a place she has visited before. Her first time there made her chuckle at the name. The Cringing cockatrice, she had thought it a disease at first. Walking in she did her best to keep the silks and gifts clean. Sitting at a stool by the bar she placed the gifts on her lap. Leaning it with her finger up ready to pay for her first drink of the day.

 

[TheEccentric]

The depths of his mindscape formed a rough and indistinct replica of the museum last night, a dream manifested from a recent experience. His vague form swirled along it like a ghostly cloud, garbled sounds fading into the blurred world as the succeeding events replayed themselves. Yeothal on the ground with Verity casting mind-delving magicks, Solomon glowering with crackling energies as he threatened the rest, Kaz a flurry of confusion and recklessness, and the rest merely see-through figures that barely had any substance to them. The aforementioned trio gave him deeper impressions, so he was easily able to distinguish their shapes in this feverish performance. Just as it was about to proceed outwards, he felt the jostling beyond the depths of his mind, sensations stemming from the waking world. His eyes twitched slowly as they cracked by a minimal amount, and just as he was about to continue his rest, he then recognised the string of words that his child just said. Without a second to waste, his exhausted nerves were pulled to an extreme taut. Jumping from his bed, be turned to his panicked family and grumbled with a voice laced with rage and deep frustration, "Contact 'em Knights, tell 'em we's have a drunk companion of theirs, an' make sure ya mention the murder in the back."

The storm of a father and a business owner exited the private areas of the Cringin' Cockatrice, a glimmering hatchet in one hand as he arrived to see his mangled bar. Gritting teeth sounded out from his pressed lips as the glow within his yellow eyes began to brighten as he searched for the perpetrator. Find the perpetrator, he did, and this was got immediately followed by barely controlled stomping. He disregarded the injured or the drunk, he ignored the patrons, he just approached Solomon with a drawn weapon. "Ah believed y'all Eldritch Knights would be different from 'em thugs and wastrels, thoughts y'all would be suitable idols foh the wee lads an' lassies wantin' ta make everythin' better. It seems ah was mistaken, didnah consider the possibility that y'all would be weaker in yer spirit an' dignity.", saying all this with flying drivel, he tossed the hatchet towards Solomon. The metal flew past the Eldritch Knight's head, bringing a cold and sharp wind where it passed as it struck the wall behind Solomon.

"If we was in a battlefield, would've gone foh the head. Would've cleaved yer neck through an' through, use yer own skull to dig the graves of me fallen. Would've used yer lifestrings ta bind yer bones ta make a weapon ah'd use ta murder yer ilk. We ain't in a battlefield, but if yer drunken revelry spilled even a drop of blood of me family, ya wouldn't be breathin' still. Lots o' folks lose themselves ta the bottle, worst kind are those that take others with 'em. Ah can replace me job, me inn, me property, but life lost ain't somethin' ya can put a price on. Ah wish ya luck on yer investigations, Sir Solomon, cuz ya won't be receivin' aid from me no more. Leave me inn, and fuck about somewhere else where a disrespectful lout like ya can thrive with the rest of yer filth.", barely constrained madness flickered in Gattas' eyes, his fingers opening and closing without cease as he resisted the urge to conjure his weapon and separate the Eldritch Knight's body into smaller pieces. The murder behind the bar is a problem for later, the madman he can see that risked his family's safety is the greatest concern at the moment.

As he turned around to start assessing the damages of his bar properly, the wrathful Gattas continued muttering underneath his breath, "Me younglings saw ya fightin' the entire night, so ah can toss me suspicions on ya aside. Best ya can do right now is explain to yer fellows yer own crimes, an' make 'em wonder why they have someone as incapable as ya around for not noticin' a murder around ya. This point onwards, ah'll treasure the time ah don't spend with ya."

With his long tirade finished, he solemnly began to clean, disregarding the looks from the other patrons should some still be willing to stay despite the damages. He'll give his kids the day off, they don't need to burden themselves with the problem their own father brought home. As for the murder, it remained at the back of his mind like most things, as it's already likely mangled from rats and vermin, best just leave it as is for the authorities to deal with. Speaking of, a slight but seething hate silently formed in his heart, unbeknownst to the initially peace-wanting goblin.

 

[Novama]

@Wiggin @ShiroKiyoshi @slifer @Elvario @Ur Degaton @Skyhunter @TheEccentric @The_Queer_Alien @CaptainLiterally @Soverign

( Reminder that my posts establish time and cannon. Any contradictions you notice should be resolved with my post or questions to me. )

As Verity approached the city estate of the Rook family, it became quickly apparent the divide between soldier and high nobility. The property was gated and fenced in decorated wrought iron. The bricks were stately and pale like the stones that made up the manor centered on the grounds. Between the front gate and the manor was a long, paved drive that went up to the manor and circled. Several carriages, relieved of their horses, were parked along the lane. To either side of the lane were massive gardens. Magic was clearly at work to have such a wide variety of flowers and greenery on full display in mid January. Guests comfortably roamed the grounds in luxurious coats, idling the time until the ceremony.

A youthful guard in his twenties, wearing the gray and black colors of the Rook household turned to address Verity, pulled away from his watch at her approach. He was professional, but Verity could sense his frenzied emotions behind the outer layer. Attraction. Anxiety. Exasperation. More.

"Good morning, Miss. I'm afraid there is a private gathering today, so I'm only allowed to give entry to those with invitation or special circumstance. There is quite the hussle and bussle today. My apologies."

The young guard appeared to be reluctant in not saying more.

The guard on the opposite side of the front gate opened the gates to allow another horse drawn carriage through. This one, like the others, was finely decorated and recently cleaned. The horses also appeared to be healthy and of good breeding. As the carriage passed, the red skin of Baroness Maspira VonRichten came into view. She was dressed as elegantly as the previous night and accompanied by her guards who kept a sharp eye on the other guests and the property.

Meanwhile at the Cringing Cockatrice...

Kaz and Kyrian were having a pleasant enough morning in Kyrian's rented room when Kyrian's getting ready ritual was interrupted by Kaz's visage in the cleric's mirror he was using to clean up with. Any blood not absorbed or ingested by Kaz the previous night had caked on his clothes and in his hair (on his face too unless all that got conveniently absorbed too). There was also a modest staining of the wooden floorboards beneath Kyrian's bed and the faintest of tracks where Kaz passed through the room the previous night. Kyrian's profession had him around blood and bodies enough that he would instantly recognize the feint odor permeating the room. Even distracted by his grievious burns that hurt each time he moved absetnmindedly or touched them, Kyrian could still tell that Kaz had enough telltale signs of blood on or around him to suggest a body or more lay at the other end of the trail going through the room.

Kyrian was still in the process of getting ready, coming to these realizations, and chatting with Kaz when there was a knocking at the bedroom door. Kaz was also getting the sense Kyrian was suspicious of him but for different reason. The change in Kaz's attire despite his meager few posessions was unexpected. Clearly the humble poor priest was likely surprised and jealous of Kaz's sweet, new outfit. Whoever was knocking, knocked again. Muffled voices could be heard in the hallway.

Downstairs...

Thorne, Navea, and Baloc were each sipping their drinks or their breakfast at separate tables within eyeshot of each other. The goblin servers were nice enough for goblins, but they were particularly short with them. It seemed like something was going on. The one armed goblin Gattas made a brief spectacle as he called out the Eldritch Knight Solomon just a few tables over. The noise and flying hatchets were unwelcome, but it was over as soon as it began. While Gattas went about his business tidying and his kids were dismissed, Solomon would awaken from his stupor with the bruise of a hatchet's handle on his face to go with his other brawling injuries. While he would be able to sleep it all off in time, he would likely remain sore the rest of the day.

The 'peace' that followed left Thorne to his thoughts for the time being. He would recall his job last night came through a middle man, as many did, and that he was paid half of it in advance. The man who offered him the job had met him here on an earlier night to make the proposal. The job was to steal the greenish orb from the life museum's region origin exhibit. Tonight, he would drop off the orb at a drop point in a poor district near the outer wall of the city in exchange for the rest of the pay. The middle man was a dark cloaked man that remained as secretive as his employer. The only thing he could vaguely recall about the man was that he had a faded, vertical scar through one side of his mouth and that his face was clean cut and lean. The advance pay was nearly enough to run away on also. If his employer isn't the one trying to kill him now and upholds the rest of the payment, Thorne may feel like retiring on the rest of the reward. Then his arm began to ache again. He would need a healer and perhaps could ask some of his associates who had been asking around for him recently. Surely the middleman had gotten a referral from someone Thorne knew to offer him the job in the first place.

Both Thorne and Navea had not slept the previous night and both looked particularly haggard (and taking penalties) that morning to Baloc. While the booze seemed to ease her stress just a bit about her later commitments, it did seem like the Tavern was shouldering its own burdens that morning. Knights eventually showed up at staff request and they started investigating the murder that took place out back. Several of them came in and started asking the various patrons if they saw anything or had anything to add about the incidents between that morning and the previous night's revelry. Baloc would note a certain Mercantile man by the name of Yeothal and his subordinates sitting a few tables away and carrying on like they owned the joint up till the knights showed up. They became particularly hushed while eyeing one another. At the red headed leader's subtle order, the table got up and made for the door while the knights happened to bump into a few noble's messenger boys as everyone started making their way of the stairs. It implied a wide variety of guests patroned the Cringing Cockatrice from murderers all the way to individuals of note to the nobility.

It was about mid-morning and still cold out with the lightest of breezes starting to pick up.

 

[Ur Degaton]

@TheEccentric

Solomon stared bleary eyed as the goblin verbally tore into him. He was genuinely confused, what had he done to warrant such treatment? But before he can question the small green-skinned bar owner, he finally took a look around and realized his own folly, this wasn't the first time that Solomon had gotten drunk and caused a scene. For as reserved and calculating as the sorcerer was, he had some serious issues when it came to alcohol. No matter how hard he tried to leave his alcoholic tendencies behind, the allure of the bottle always snagged him back like a fish caught on a hook. He groaned in a mixture of anger for his embarrassing display, pain from the throbbing headache caused by a night of drinking and fighting, and sadness at his failure to abstain from the devil's drink.

Despite his situation, Solomon laughed out loud at Gattas' ignorance regarding his views on the Eldritch Knights. "The only difference between an Eldritch Knight and a thug, is that we get paid by the crown." He said while gesturing to the ruined bar in a mocking fashion. "Hear me goblin and listen well, do not get your hopes up about us. Me, you, every thug, every noble, and every goddamn piece of sentient meat in this forsaken realm is naught but an actor. As much as we like to tell ourselves that we are good people, that we have morals and are just in our causes, when you finally strip away the mask that conceals their true nature, you see just how rotten everything is underneath. Do not think I cannot see the primal madness behind your cheap mask of dignity and normalcy. You'd like nothing more than to rip me limb from limb, and feed me to the starving vagabonds that roam the outside of these city walls. You're a savage, just like the rest of us, but the only difference is that you're worse at concealing it." By the time he finished his speech, he had walked over to Gattas and was standing right in front of the small green warrior. His eyes glowed a translucent blue as the power of his mana channeled his emotions outward into a physical display of arcane power. The air shimmered around his form briefly as he radiated magical energy. His face had been set into a feral snarl sometime during his speech. He glared harshly at Gattas for a few moments before sighing in resignation, he did not want to cause any more trouble, the knights would already be all over his ass for the previous night,. "Apologies, this should cover the cost of the bar," He said while dropping a bag of currency at the goblin's feet. "A word of advice, if you don't want your bar and by extension your family's safety to be compromised, don't allow fights to break out in this place. You may regret the day someone too strong walks in and doesn't feel like pulling their punches." With one last look to the patrons of the bar, he walked out to get some water, cure his hangover, and nurse his wounds.

Solomon knew he himself was a glass cannon, someone that can easily be defeated through physical force. But he'd be damned if he didn't use magic in every way possible to give himself the edge, even if it comes at a price. And he wouldn't allow this kingdom to eat him up before he had his chance at gaining enough power to withstand the authority that binds him so.

 

[TheEccentric]

"Actors, eh? Least some actors act ta be better, an' it seems unlike ya, ah spilled sweat and tears ta be a better person. Shove off, take yer flowery words, ya'll need them to cover yer weakness. Ah'll keep ta me savagery ah use foh me selfishness, while ya can keep ta yer magicks ya abuse.", not denying the glowering caster's claims, he stared into the eyes of the man with an unflinching gaze. True, the madness and barbarism has never left him, and he won't deny his past for himself, but he would for his family. He opened the flat of his palm and exposed it to Solomon, and with a faint glimmer, the image of a hatchet flashes into existence briefly before dissipating moments after. He need not fear for himself, especially since the caster had already decided to risk his life by standing so close, but Gattas wouldn't be goaded so easily. With his children so close, the father within won over the warrior that wanted nothing more than to accept the challenge.

Grabbing the bag of coins on the ground, he tossed it beyond the counter and turned his back to continue cleaning. Deep frustrations gushed inside him like torrential rivers, emotions that he'll have to find an outlet for later on. He sensed the twinge of pain from Solomon, that displeasure for not being able to control yourself, a pain he had dealt with before. He was frustrated, not just for his family, but also for his inability to help the Eldritch Knight with that pain. Soft-spoken and placating, traits he wants to manifest so he could fit in with the rest in civilized society's moving gears. Traits he wants right now, to address the situation without aggression and rage. Alas, he is too close to Beast than he is Man at the moment, and the Man part wishes to hold onto the pride of being a warrior. His words came out grating, designed to scrape and hurt.

As this encounter between two differing parties ended, the goblin grabbed the remains of a massive table and hoisted it over his shoulder, intending to bring it out back. His eyes wearily glanced at the familiar Yeothal now that he recognised him, but he didn't move his body differently. This problem isn't his to bear anymore, and at this point, the gruff thug is just a customer. As Solomon was about to exit the bar, Gattas finally formed the words he wanted to say. Words much softer than expected, and words that he hoped the man wouldn't take as an attack.

"There be a difference between roughhousin' and fightin'. The former is foh the blood ta pump, the latter ta prove or get somethin'. Hope ya got what ya wanted from me bar. Also, there be a difference ta a strong fellow makin' a ruckus, ta someone ya trusted an' brought ta yer home ta pay ya back with problems.", with that line finished, his mouth clamped shut, not wanting to talk for the rest of the morning. He'll clean for today, and have his kids rest after providing to the first few customers. Best close down early so the other Eldritch Knights can properly deal with the murder.

 

[Elvario]

Verity
​

The short walk through Rook's estate made her a little jealous. Having such a large place in the city itself was crazy, as the price for taking up so much space was likely more than she'd earn in a lifetime. Perhaps she should try marrying into nobility? It'd sure beat her current Eldritch Knight retirement plans. Setting fantasies aside, the guard that approached her was being a tad bit troublesome; a little too strict, yet anxious and likely inexperienced. She gave the guard a friendly smile. "No worries, I'm sure my arrival is a special enough circumstance. After all, I'm here on Eldritch Knight business, baroness VonRichter can vouch for me."

Speaking of the tiefling devil, Verity noticed her target coming right into view in a carriage. 'What a perfect timing.' She walked/waved over, whichever got her spotted the easiest, after which she gave a short bow. "Good day to you, baroness VonRichten." She didn't need magic to figure out that yesterdays attack might be pushed to the background by whatever was going on at the moment, so she figured she'd need to stress the urgency before anyone could attempt to dismiss her. "I'm here to follow-up on yesterday's attack, as I fear there might be more to it. My investigation thus far has shown there was more planning being done behind the scenes than what would be normal for a single action. It's likely that whomever orchestrated it will make another move in the near future, if they are not already doing so."

 

[Skyhunter]

Ah yes, Kaz Bloodhawk, a Outsider Native far from home found himself standing in the middle of a room with a healer or priest catching him about to leave. Now that light was coming through the window, Kaz would see that a trail of blood was coming from the door and stopped underneath the bed that Kyrian had just previously laid on. Where Kaz had slept under. How could he be so reckless and leave a trail behind? The bloodlust he had must have been severe, he never usually let it get to that point where he would leave tracks.

Kaz crouched a little in a stance with his arms spread out looking at Kyrian. " Ah. You have found me, Kyrian. I was hoping that would not be the case. " Kyrian would notice that Kaz was acting a little different than he was the previous day, while still a freak there was something more to him than that, he seemed more... Aware, less stupid. Could actually talk and did have that stupid psychotic grin on his face. " Well you caught me. I'm not even sure what criminal means but it doesn't sound nice. " Kaz moved to stand up straight, looking at his clothes seeing that the black trousers he wore had stains of blood on them, he can smell it. The blood. It called to him. Though he ignored its calling, looking to Kyrian moving a hand through his hair, feeling it matted with a hardened and almost sticky liquid, pulling his hand out he looked to see dry blood on his hand. " Ah shit. Alright guy, listen here. I know this looks bad, the blood here that leads under your bed, but you gotta listen to me. I did what I had to do. " The outsider spoke with truth in his different colored eyes, although it was hard to tell with that hint of craziness within them too and the dried blood on his face too.

Kaz stopped talking upon hearing a knock at the door, his head whipped towards the door. He could hear a few muffled voices and Kaz crouched down again in a stance that looked like he was going to fight. Kaz raised a brow staring at the door for another couple moments. Before he cleared his throat. " Uh. Who is it! Please don't come in yet, we're still naked! " Kaz tried to imitate a females voice as he moved closer to the door standing next to it as he tried to listen closely to the voice on the otherside. His blue pupil glowed faintly, having one hand on the wall as electricty bounced off his hand and back into his hand like a fish leaping out of a pond of water then back in. More than likely whoever was at the door, was here because of the trail of blood that lead to the room. Kaz cursed the, well, curse that he was born with! It wasn't his fault he needed to bath, spill, shred, ingest, divulge, whatever other damn words to describe him having to sate this hunger of his! He wish he didn't have this requirement to live but Blood Emperor be damned if the feeling did not feel good!

Then he looked at Kyrian and quickly stride towards the poor man, grabbing him by his shoulders " Clean the blood off me, Kyrian. We need to make sure whoever sees us doesn't immediately think we both are in on this. " Then Kaz looked at the window and gasped, he got a idea. He moved to the window and opened it up looking at Kyrian pointing at him. " Get your clothes off, now. I got a idea. " That usually wasn't a good idea, especially since he had a mischievous look in his eyes, that and he was already stripping down, getting his nice, suave, clean blue jerkin off. Throwing it on the floor exposing his scarred body ti Kyrian " And get your ass in the bed. " Kaz kicked off his boots, but as he did, a broken shiv came out his booth and rolled onto his jerkin, the blade being broken at the hilt but a piece of the blade still stuck out. Kaz sure as hell wasn't afraid, he was already getting his pants off pointing at Kyrian to hurry it up. If there was knights on the otherside of the door, they would most likely be suspicious of Kyrian being a part of the murder too, Kaz knew he was most likely going to get into trouble but he didn't need to involve Kyrian as he had nothing to do with this, and he also considered him a friend as he helped Kaz out previously.

 

[Novama]

@Elvario

( Partial update so folks don't have to wait )

Verity was right in that knight business was a special circumstance. Rather than impede Verity or her newly started conversation, the knight backed up to allow Verity to pass through the already opened gate. The knights call to the baroness was heard and well received. There was a moment of distracted confusion before the demoness recalled who Verity was.

"Ah, yes. Good morning to you, Lady Knight. You bring some ominous news, but forgive, I'm currently looking for a lost priest and groom. Might you walk with me and join the search. Perhaps we can resolve a few things at once."

The Baroness suggested, seemingly unwilling to stand idle and chat. The air was brisk and moving reduced the bite in the air ever so slightly. The guards would make room for Verity next to Lady Maspira and the two would be allowed to set the pace as they patrolled the grounds. The Baroness leaned closer to Verity and with a conspiratorial whisper added,

"Keep your eyes peeled, Lady Knight. Word is the Marquis Groom is quite the party beast. It would not be too surprising to find him wasted, naked, sleeping in a bush, or some combination of the three."

Her mischievous smile was a playful one, but her racial features made it more evil and ominous to those less familiar with this Lady VonRichten. Casually looking around, she seemed open to further discussion with Verity.

Across the grounds from their party, a few ladies grappled and started shoving each other until both fell into one of the ponds kept magically warm for the koi. It caused quite a spectacle.