[Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Ixy on 17-06-2009, 01:52:03</h2>
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				Title: <strong>[Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>17-06-2009, 01:52:03</strong>
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				Along the wet black planks of the tavern sign is an etching of a lamb against nebula of red, though the red's going pink with age and the white's peeling away in flecks of paint like the dignity from a dying man.&nbsp; This shingle swings in the rain and wind of a late-summer shower, and beneath the droning patter of drops along the bracken and elms there is a muted clamour-- the echoes of laughter and music.&nbsp; It is the good and assured laughter of working men and travelers accompanying the delicate strums of a lute that churns out intricate chords like a grinder-box, but with a soul.&nbsp; <br><br>The stout door swings outward and a stout-looking couple spill out into the rain, with them comes the inviting golden glow of the oil lamps within and a riotous spill of mirthful noise.&nbsp; The female of the pair laughs girlishly as she huddles under her bearded partner's cloak and the two of them set off down the lane.&nbsp; The door, hinged at a slight angle, swings shut with a clatter and the metal lift-catch rattles back into place, and the night is quieter again, the noise again an undertone to the pattering rainfall.&nbsp; <br><br>Crossroads stretch into the distance beyond the tavern's resting bulk, and the horizon is dotted by a few other structures that, by comparison to this one, seem far lonelier... this inn holds a place of respect for the evening, and its patrons are basking in the entertainment of a bard whose talent is a rare thing in these backwater towns.&nbsp; The rain, however, seems to have kept most indoors for the evening, and there's still a little room in the feasthall...<br><br>[enter, please, or choose a place to have already occupied] 
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>The Greater Cause</strong> on <strong>17-06-2009, 06:16:20</strong>
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				Krin silently strumed his lute with his eyes closed as he allowed the soft tune to fill the room. He loved to play his lute, the tips and free lodge was just a bonus. He was playing a soft tune that touched the hearts of everyone in the tavern. It was a sad yet cheerful song making the heart heavy but the soul stronge. He slowly stopped and took a deep breath. His favorite song had ended now it was time to give the crowd something to drink to. He smiled and opened his eyes causeing the crowd to smile as he strummed his lute once more.<br><br>This time instead of a slow sad song he played a fast happy song that caused the room to break out into dance and merry laughter and chatter. He smiled as more people rose to their feet and began dancing. The tempo began to pick up as he played faster and more merrily. Then as quickly as he started he stopped and slung his lute around his back. With a grin he picked up his flute and put it to his lips. "Are you ready?" He asked the crowd as he began to play the same merry song only on the flute making it sound even more merry. Life was good, but the young bard still longed for adventure.
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Jude</strong> on <strong>17-06-2009, 06:32:09</strong>
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				The tree's sparse leaves did little to block the falling rain, but that was exactly why he nestled against it as opposed to the others.&nbsp; It was an instrumental part of his favorite hangover cure; sitting in the rain for hours on end doing absolutely nothing.&nbsp; Even though the dull throb of his body and head ended hours ago, he still didn't feel like moving.&nbsp; No reason to.&nbsp; He never did anything without some reason, not that the reason had to be <em>reasonable</em>.<br><br>To the travelers on the road, he looked like a madman.&nbsp; What sane individuals sat in the rain, beneath a withering tree with a dumb grin on their face?&nbsp; It was a good question.
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>iridum248</strong> on <strong>17-06-2009, 14:33:57</strong>
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				Near the soft, smoky warmth of the hearth fire, Lucille van Edefelt- Lately Lady Lucille of the Radiant Heart- rested her tired head on her arms, her golden tresses glinting in the half-light. A low, sleepy sigh of contentment purred from the lady knight's throat, her startlingly green eyes blinking dreamily...Fingers drumming a gentle tatoo on the solid oak of her table, in a rough approximation of rhythm. <br><br>In any other place, the sight of a lone woman- Clearly of wealth, from the silky richness of her long, white dress, and the soft curves shifting restlessly against it- would've aroused decidedly unworthy attention. Not here, though; For though the recently-ordained paladiness drowsed, gently sliding her half-full glass of mulled wine aside, the steely glint of the shield (Half-swathed in brown muslin) at her feet warranted a respect of its own!<br><br>Still, entirely at ease, and a trifle exhausted from the long, wearying caravan ride, Lucille let the bard's cheery song put her at ease, humming along in gentle, murmuring accompainment to the tune.&nbsp; 
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Darkforged Dove</strong> on <strong>17-06-2009, 15:28:13</strong>
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				The rain on the rooftop was music to his ears. Water, water, all around, and every drop to drink, grow crops, nourish life. Drown worms, create pestilential pools for insects to spawn in, and make those who stayed wet miserable. Glais raised his tankard in the air, a silent toast to his patron for exerting his power.<br><br>He muttered something to himself while standing at the bar, and looking out at the rain. He had smelt the increased humidity hours ago, and had easily found shelter. He may have been devoted to the apathetic purity of water, but that was no reason to get soaked. Especially when he could soak the insides of himself with cheap beer.<br><br>"The oceans truly rule everything. Even the land. Without water, the ground itself would be death."<br><br>The music played, the crowd danced, or chatted. Glais looked upon the crowd faintly bemused, as he gently kept time to the music by gently tapping his right boot on the ground. <br><br>He had his drink, now he needed to find a place to sit. The place was filling, and no tables were unoccupied. He'd have to find some other company. Hopefully someone who wasn't annoying. It would spoil his whole day if that happened. This little excursion inland had been great so far.<br><br>He'd spent the last few weeks on sabbatical, traveling from town to town, selling healing, water dowsing services, and disease and poison removing when needed; in exchange for food, lodgings or a few coins when his clients could spare them. <br><br>Most temples didn't have true clerics, just priests who knew their theology and gave spiritual and moral counselling to their congregations. Even then not all the gods healed. Which suited him fine, people needed what he had to offer, and he could recover his energy by praying... or fishing...or other acts that paid reverence to his god. Like quaffing massive amounts of beer.<br><br>This was his fifth tankard in the last hour, at coppers a mug it was the best way to stretch this praying session as long as possible. He had done a bunch of healing a day's travel ago and hadn't found a good place to sit and pray since then. <br><br>He was getting bored with standing, and wanted to eat. He needed to find a seat. Somewhere. He looked around. There. The blonde out-of-towner with the armour and shield. The sword and shield said 'knight' in his head, but the hair and poise said something different. She wasn't a veteran fighter who cut back on everything that wasn't essential in a fight. She was probably new, or didn't fight much, or was a noble.<br><br>The last thought cinched the deal. She probably had money, money meant an education. An education meant that she was somewhat knowledgeable about the world as a whole. <br><br>Hopefully she wouldn't make a big deal that he was a cleric. It wasn't like the bracelet of blue stones on his left wrist, or the metal medallion with a teardrop marked on it that hung from his neck were something that he would hide. He wore no visible weapons, nor any armour, but he wouldn't hide the emblems of his Patron.<br><br>He walked over to the lady knight and stood by one of the chairs, holding the backrest in his hand. <br><br>"Excuse me my Lady, would a cleric of Oceanus be able to sit here? This place is a bit crowded, and I'd like to sit down when I eat my dinner."<br><br>He smiled at her when he finished. He obviously wasn't from here, with his clothes, or jewelry. However that didn't mean that people would believe that he was a cleric. Clerics were few and far between in most parts of the world.
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>iridum248</strong> on <strong>17-06-2009, 16:23:46</strong>
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				"Mmmmmm?" Lucille's gaze flitted to the new arrival, his tall, tanned frame casting a momentary shadow across the table; With a soft scrape of wood on wood, he gestured to the empty seat, his intention obvious- Despite herself, she couldn't help but think how much he looked like a sailor, or a pirate from one of those woodcut novels...<br><br>The faintest point of color rose in her cheeks, as she realised she'd been staring. "Oh," the girl answered, "Oh, not at all. Please, sit." She smiled, briefly, almost shyly- A gesture oddly belied by the discreet shuffle of her hastily-wrapped shield. Something; A faint memory, of her schola lectures- clicked, at the wave-and-teardrop amulet hanging on a chain...<em>Oceanus</em>, wasn't it? And the beads of an ordained priest- So he *was* what he said.<br><br>A trifle hesitantly, with an awkward grace, Lucille slid back from the table, making space- Though a casual observer would've noticed the smooth, almost sublimal way she shuffled her equipment, always within her reach. "Charmed to make your aquaintance," she added, a heartbeat later...Then, curiously, "My guess is, you're not a local either, are you?"
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nimmy</strong> on <strong>17-06-2009, 17:58:48</strong>
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				The rain had started some time ago, but Cael wanted to get to town, despite the weather. It might have been a better option to find shelter and tough out the uncomfortable weather. He had been looking forward to a warm meal and an actual bed, after weeks of being on the road, and he was going to get what he wanted.<br><br>Lights started appearing through the trees, which meant he was close to getting out of the rain. Cael adjusted his pack so it wasn't digging into his shoulders so much and picked up his pace. Minutes later, the sign for an inn. He looked up at it, taking in the age for a minute, before stepping inside. His first order of business was to get food.<br><br>He pushed the hood of his cloak from his head and shook the hair that had slipped free from his ponytail and gotten wet. He found a seat and stowed his pack where it would be out of the way but easy to both watch and retrieve. He asked the barmaid that came to take his order for a warm meal and a tankard of ale, then set his attention to scanning the room to see who of interest might be there as well.
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marlow</strong> on <strong>17-06-2009, 21:04:05</strong>
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				Katarzyna had been staying at <em>The Bleeding Lamb</em> for close to three days now. Tonight was supposed to be the night she left, slipping quietly out, leaving coin for the proprietor. It was a habit she had come accustomed too, never letting anyone know when she left, or when she arrived. With the rain as it was, she knew she would not be making her way further inland tonight.<br><br>The music drifting up through the stairwell to Katarzyna's room was sweet, and the raucous laughter accompanying it was enticing to the woman alone in her small room. If she had known she would be here another night, she certainly would have found a companion to fill the empty space in her room for the night, like she had for the past two sleeps. Seeing as this was not the case, it was inevitable that she would be drawn to the sounds in the common room.<br><br>Her moccasin clad feet made no noise as they padded on the worn wood stairs, her dress unobtrusive, tanned leather leggings and a dusky green tunic, gathered around her waist with a bronze-buckled belt. As she made her way in to the common room, her white eyes took in the room with a cursory sweep, narrowing when they landed on the man and woman at the bar. Cleric and a Paladin, just perfect.<br><br>Quickly moving to a table on the opposite side of the tavern, against the metal-work window beside the door, she sat down, her eyes piercing as she studied the two. She wasn't wearing her armour, and her shield bearing the emblem of Nebtenwesh was not with her, but if either of them got a good look at her and recognized the mark of that evil Goddess -white hair, eyes, and skin- it would not be long before trouble found her, as it always did.<br><br>It was something else she had grown accustomed to over the thirty years she has been held in thrall to the Goddess: They didn't care about the circumstances of service. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Jude</strong> on <strong>18-06-2009, 00:28:47</strong>
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				He drug himself to his feet and pulled his cloak off over his head.&nbsp; It hadn't kept his clothing underneath dry at all, but it didn't matter to him.&nbsp; He wrung what water he could out of it before donning it again and walking towards the entrance to the nearby Tavern while arching his back in a leisurely stretch.<br><br>He opened the door, experiencing the familiar rush of sensations.&nbsp; To him Taverns were like their own little world.&nbsp; Each distinct from the space around them with a unique smell, warmth, atmosphere, and life.&nbsp; Each time he thought he'd seen everything <em>someone</em> sitting next to him at the bar would surprise him.&nbsp; He stopped thinking he'd seen everything.&nbsp; He knew he wasn't dignified, kind, temperate, or educated, but he'd seen far worse.<br><br>He scanned the tavern looking for anyone of particular interest and grinned to himself.&nbsp; An albino.
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nimmy</strong> on <strong>18-06-2009, 04:33:45</strong>
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				Cael looked up from his meal, which had arrived a short time ago, when he caught the door opening out of the corner of his eye. A waterlogged man entered the tavern and looked around. He lifted another spoonful of the hearty stew in front of him into his mouth as he followed the man's gaze to a woman sitting very close to the door.<br><br>Now there was something one didn't see every day. The man who had just entered was looking at an albino. He shifted his chair around the table, partially so he was closer to the fire and drying off, and partially so he could get a better look at the woman across the room. He smiled as the fire's heat hit his back, and chuckled quietly as he noticed that steam was beginning to rise off his clothing.<br><br>He allowed his eyes to wander the common room, drawn to the bard playing a merry tune on his flute. He smiled as he ate and watched people dance and drink to the song, and allowed his eyes to slip on. He took in the entire tavern in several minutes, relieved to find that everything was merry and, as far as he was concerned, safe. No mysterious figures in any corners. A relief.<br><br>He took a moment to release his ginger-colored locks from the ponytail and the bandanna holding it out of his face and brushed it back.
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>18-06-2009, 07:25:35</strong>
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				(using your best judgment, choose to overhear what you think your character would notice in the room.&nbsp; It may be loud and a bit crowded, smokey and lit by oil lamps, but it's not terribly difficult to notice things if you're paying attention)<br><br>From along the wall near the musician, a dancer beats a barefoot solo across the wooden floor around him.&nbsp; Scarves of white trail from her bare arms and her corset-clad torso, and she matches the tune's insistent optimism with her own vibrant intensity.&nbsp; She strikes the dancing postures that some would recognize as native to the lands of the southeast desert by a few seasoned travelers, for few in this region have seen the nomadic tribes that have sometimes been said to travel this far into the deciduous lands of the north.&nbsp; <br><br>If she's one of those tribes, she might be a Phe'tzor, or a Rothki.&nbsp; The rumors of these people are numerous, and range from tales of stolen children and livestock to rumors of demonic pacts, including that they can see the future, impart curses, etc.&nbsp; The general notion, however, is that most of this... most... is sheer bunk.&nbsp; Regardless, she's a hell of a dancer.<br><br>The manner of dress she wears is rather revealing, with an open stomach and arms and skirts slit high, a leather sheath beneath over her modesty.&nbsp; Despite her ability and obvious beauty, she seems careful, to the trained eye, not to attempt to upstage the bard; it's his show, and she's participating.&nbsp; That's the feeling, anyway... Azhouri is poised on arched, bare feet as she crosses the floor among the crowd, then returns along the wall nearest the fireplace, sending the firelight's warm flicker to a bursting of sparks and glow when she passes between.&nbsp; She's stirring the crowd, working them, not letting them get settled to quiet contemplation and urging them instead to revel and clap.&nbsp; <br><br>Toward the far right corner in respect to the tavern door, there is a pocket of stocky men among the crowd of otherwise boisterous, but genial, common folk.&nbsp; This small group seems to be reveling a bit more drunkenly than the rest.&nbsp; The first, a bald-headed, tan-skinned bear of a man with a beard like a knotted rag from his chin, is shouting over the music to his cohorts-- a lean, but broad, one-eyed man whose leather and scale armor is adorned with leopard skin, and a leathery-faced white-beard who looks like he could eat a man half his age with a pitcher of hard cider.<br><br>Well, no one's being eaten yet, but there's plenty of the cider.&nbsp; A tavern-woman of middle years scurries from their table when the bald one interrupts his diatribe to smack her ass, then launches back in.&nbsp; "--and the Rothki would know, cause they know every fucking thing else.&nbsp; They just keep it to themselves."&nbsp; The leopard-wearer says something to him in a clipped, ragged tone common to the barbarians out west, "And so what if there's a road?&nbsp; It's just stories.&nbsp; Stories don't make men rich."<br><br>The bald one levels a thick finger at him, spitting as he roars.&nbsp; "Oh, but that they do. The nomads won't let anyone know about that road because it's the road to..."&nbsp; a crowd's laughter drowns him out to the casual listener.<br><br>The dancer whirls past Cael, the whirl of her step causing the steam to disappear in the rush of air.&nbsp; She winks and moves on.<br><br>A tray-bearing tavern girl of late teen years skirts the crowd and passes the slender, soaked man entering.&nbsp; "Hullo again, Mister Oz..." she adds a knowing wink to the memorable customer.&nbsp; "Your usual spot at the bar's taken, but there's a few chairs over there--"&nbsp; she tips her head and skates away, nearly crashing into Katarzyna's table in her distraction.&nbsp; <br><br>"Oh, I-- ah-- I beg your pardon--" and she hurries away with a renewed insistence that borders on terror.<br><br>A nodding, half-jigging old man lurches his way past the musician mirthfully, pausing to add a couple pieces of copper and a couple of glass beads to the clay pot that held his monetary earnings.&nbsp; The urn was half-full... silver glinted in there among rose petals, beads, copper, steel arrowheads and even a few brass buttons.&nbsp; This was a step-up from the rural towns, where tipping was lucky to earn you a handful of seed corn.<br><br>A pipe-smoking young woman hops onto the lap of a moderately-well-dressed man whose flat, velvet hat marks him as a trader.&nbsp; She starts nuzzling his ear and reaching for his belt before the tavern-master, a stout, black-skinned man whose laugh is the only thing bigger than his shoulders, lifts her up like one snatching a kitten's scruff.&nbsp; "AT!&nbsp; None of that in my tavern, this is a decent place."&nbsp; He plopped her soundly onto her feet and pointed toward the door.&nbsp; "Go hook at Fortune's Fork, Winnie--"<br><br>"Ah, gods, I was only trying to CLOSE the DEAL!" she screeches back.&nbsp; She hasn't spilled her pipe and puffs from it once.&nbsp; Her hair's reddish-blond, and her freckles are apparent in the amber lamplight.&nbsp; She looks more petulant than angry.&nbsp; "Fine then, Mister--" She snags the tradesman's belt "--buy me a drink and I'll show you a trick..."<br><br>"Just be buyin' that drink at the Fork, Winnie."&nbsp; He clucks his tongue.&nbsp; He knows her, he feels sorry for her.&nbsp; But he can't tolerate what she's become.&nbsp; "Go."&nbsp; He heads for the bar where his wife is pouring ale and filling a tray.
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Jude</strong> on <strong>18-06-2009, 08:03:18</strong>
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				((Cleaned up the post a bit, had to edit it for typos and whatnot, it was written late last night.)<br><br>Oz appreciated the gesture, but couldn't help grinning as if the teen barmaid's warm welcome was an inside joke.&nbsp; When she stumbled, he pretended not to see by focusing his eyes downward on his soaked clothing.&nbsp; He pulled his fingers through his messy brown hair, straining water out and down his back.&nbsp; An involuntary cold shudder came over him, followed by another glance around the room.<br><br>"Hmm..." He said audibly.&nbsp; It was a bad habit, he even tended to do it when not speaking to anyone at all.&nbsp; His indecisiveness seemed to wane as his fascination for the strange took over; moments later he found himself deftly following after the exotic dancer and waiting for an opening for conversation.&nbsp; He kept his distance and avoided staring, carefully taking efforts not to appear too interested.<br><br>He settled on leaning back against the wall at a barren spot with crossed arms and taking in his surroundings with great curiosity while waiting for the right moment.&nbsp; A wry smile cracked across his face, radiating a certain roguish charm.&nbsp; His eyes were usually intensely blue, but today they were almost as gray as the rain outside.&nbsp; Drops of water continued to fall from his clothing onto the wooden floor of the tavern as he patiently waited.
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				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>The Greater Cause</strong> on <strong>19-06-2009, 02:15:03</strong>
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				Krins song comes to a slow stop as he looks up at the merry crowd. Then he smiles, "So what'll it be for my last song? A merry tempo or a sarrowfull tune?" He asked as he looked down at the clay jar. 'Nice. We're makin some good money here.' This made him smile more. He looked to the crowd and already new what they wanted. Putting the flute up to his lips once more he took a deep breath and started playing another hearty tune. This one was often played before wars to lift the spirits of the soldiers and inspire them making their adrenaline rush. It was used to make the soldiers ache for a battle. Krin planned to do just that minus the ache for a battle. He played vigorusly noticing the dancer doing her job, and doing it well.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Jude</strong> on <strong>19-06-2009, 08:26:14</strong>
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				Oz cringed in an extremely rare and short display of annoyance as the bard's next song began to play.&nbsp; He collected himself quickly, returning to his previous pose with a hint of steel to his gaze.&nbsp; The rest of the Tavern would most likely enjoy the tune, but this town wasn't as wartorn as others.&nbsp; From Oz's experience it typically had a similar effect on the average <em>innocent</em> civilian's mood as it did on a soldier's; it sometimes preceded bar fights.&nbsp; Had he heard the ruckus in the corner before his entry Oz would've distributed his attention to the entirety of the tavern; unfortunately he hadn't.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nimmy</strong> on <strong>19-06-2009, 14:37:15</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Cael's gaze could help but be drawn to the dancer in the revealing outfit and white scarves. She was very good, he could see, and very good at getting the crowd in a good mood. He smiled slightly as he saw the crowd start to dance as well. She danced his way, stirring up the crowd as she did so, and he smiled along with the rest of the revelers as she made them more aware of the good music that they were listening to.<br><br>He took his gaze away from her for a moment to scan the rest of the room, and his eyes couldn't help but alight on a a group of men by the door. He was too far away from where they were standing to hear what they were talking about, but his curiosity was peaked. Unfortunately, at that moment the dancer swept by him, whirling away the steam that was still rising from his clothing, and giving him a wink. He couldn't help but grin back in his surprise, and settled in to sip his ale and watch the rest of the show, rather than participate.<br><br>The bard finished his song and moved onto another one, one that held some bad memories for Cael, back from his childhood. He quickly collected his things and left some coin on the table for the barmaid he could see making her way quickly across the floor to clear his table. He made his way to the bar and signaled the bartender, also the owner of this establishment, that he wanted a room for at least the night. It was time to get out of the tavern before he watched a fight break out and felt somewhat obligated to break it up. He passed by the bard and went up the stairs to his room quickly.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Darkforged Dove</strong> on <strong>19-06-2009, 19:49:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He looked at her, as she seemed lost in thought over whether to let him sit or not. He looked her over, as he watched her appraising him. She was young-ish, had more money than most people, and probably knew how to fight, or at least had gotten some training. He doubted that she had yet been covered in gore, filth, mud or water while wearing that equipment. It still had a to-clean look to it. None of the filth or grime that seemed to lurk around the edges of well used wargear.<br><br>He said "Thank you m'lady" as he pulled the chair down, and took his seat as she adjusted the items she had under the table. The bulk of a sheild was almost impossible to hide, no merchant's pack was ever that shape. Flat, wide, tall, definitely a sheild. <br><br>He mentally shrugged. If she felt that she needed to hide the tools of her trade, who was he to judge. He was blessed in ways that other warriors weren't, he didn't need to carry his arms or armour. He fought with his own methods, and the scars marking him as a warrior were scattered along his body. Some went deeper, shattered bones left few, if any, scars. While other scars had to be given voice, description and their story to be realized. Long sleeves, pants, and boots covered him, the scars on his hands would probably be unnoticed. Sailors sometimes got cut handling rope, or other things.<br><br>"A local? No, you do have a keen eye for judging character it seems. I'm sort of... passing through. I go to where I'm taken you might say. And... yourself m'Lady? I take it your not from around these parts either?"<br><br>His deep, almost croaking, voice answered her. Although, probably not telling her everything she wanted to know. The seas kept many secrets to themselves, and its clerics often did the same. Hoarding tidbits of knowlege, the way that the sea hoarded sunken ships.<br><br>Glais waited until a wooden trencher with roasted meat, gravy, half a loaf of bread, chopped and fried vegetables and a pitcher of ale to keep his mug full was placed on the table, while he watched the dancer move back and forth, he watched her carefully placed mincing steps as she flexed her shoulders and hips independently of each other.<br><br>He looked back at the young woman at the table and leaned in before saying to her "She's not half bad, isn't she?" He grinned, but his eyes didn't smile, they merely looked at the blonde woman to gauge her reaction to what he said. Over a decade spent in close confines with other people taught him to be a rapid judge of other's character and disposition. A skill that served him well on shore as well as at sea.<br><br>When the bard made the request for the final song, Glais looked up and was about to say a song. Until the bard decided to play .... that. "<em>The March of the Emerald Duke's Honour Gaurd</em>" or the "March of Honour Gaurd", as it was sometimes known. It was a stirring song, but few remembered the two other songs that were part of the "Honour Gaurd" cycle. The next song in the cycle, "The Battle of the Greed and the Red", narrated the battle of the honour gaurd against the Bloody Baron's soldiers, while their Duke left his fortress in exile. The last part, "The Duke's lament", was the roll of the guard that the Duke had written; each member named and described by the duke himself. Each member of the guard dead, covered in glory, heaps of the bloody baron's men; and their own blood, crusted and caked on their faces, arms, legs, chests and the ground they died on.<br><br>Glais doubted that the youth on the stage would play the last two parts, especially as the last part detailed all thirty of the guard, and was said only with a voice unaccompanied by instrument or chanting. Mostly because the song was one that made even the Emerald Duke, and every one of his descendents, weep. The Bloody Baron had long been killed for his massacres and other crimes, his demonic advisors gut and quartered; but the "Duke's Lament" was a universal mourning to all who had died so that others may live. The funeral song for dead champions and common soldiers alike.<br><br>"I wish that this song wasn't played. It sometimes makes fools of men. Most men don't know what war can really be like, and so few hear the full cycle."<br><br>Funny enough, the stirring music had the complete opposite effect on Glais. He felt morose, tired, spent. How many times had he gone with high hopes?
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>19-06-2009, 23:48:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The music has a rousing effect for most, and most of those present spring into a chorus of rhytmic claps, matching the musician's beat.&nbsp; A few spring to their feet and begin dancing at the familiar tune, as if they can sense that it's their last chance and, tired as they may be, they're going to enjoy it while they can.<br><br>The doors to the tavern spring open as the <br><br>Mid-swirl the dancer tips her head in approval at Krin's choice to wind things up-- "That's the sprit, muse-- let it fly!" as she whirls from partner to partner in the room's only open space.&nbsp; The girl defly avoids crossed feet, an overturned chair-- she's almost untouchable, but that doesn't stop her from grinning boldly at Cael, though the swarm of crowd that fills in as he takes to the stairs blocks him from her view then.&nbsp; <br><br>The leopard-skin clad man stands suddenly, no more than a few feet from Oz at this point, who gets spattered with the dregs of a hefty pint as the table clatters about at the sudden movement.&nbsp; "I tell you before, and I tell you again now, there be no city of the dead!&nbsp; If you find it, you no wish you ever DID, so shut your fat mouth you crazy old FOOL."<br><br>Katarzyna feels a sudden itch in her mind, as if of something forgotten and nagging mingled with the discomfort of being stared down in secret.&nbsp; Something nags at her, hinting at the door where the drink-addled trader is giddily pinching at the wench whose hooks are in him.&nbsp; The girl seems wrong to Katarzyna, somehow.<br><br>The crowd-- four, perhaps five dozen people in the alehouse, are raising a noisy ruckus as they dance, but so far no violence seems to erupt.<br><br>Lucille feels a sudden spike of cold, as if a drop of icy water has somehow slid from the base of her neck and is trickling down her spine.<br><br>Glais, somehow, over the music outside, thinks he hears a familiar sound.&nbsp; As if the tune has called up some phantom from his memory, he can hear, with certainty, the hooffalls and synchronized footsteps of an army.&nbsp; No one else seems to notice.<br><br>Krin will feel the sweeping pull of the song tugging at him, as it has before, but somehow the energy of the crowd and the passion of his performance seem to be overwhelming him, and he finds the music crecendoing and flowing from him with an ease that is powerful and passionate-- even for him.<br><br>Cael, too, feels an odd calling-- his name, in a voice deeper than any he's ever heard, echoes in his ears.&nbsp; The noise of it is more potent than the raucous room's din so that the music seems distant, muted-- like cotton has been stuffed into his ears.&nbsp; He realizes then that the voice is not a voice, in fact-- the voice is the sound of trees creaking together, heavy trunks groaning with strain their trunks stretch and twist in the torrent of some great storm.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Jude</strong> on <strong>20-06-2009, 00:41:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Oz's face lit up in a grin so devious that Loki himself would be jealous.&nbsp; The course of the night was decided now.&nbsp; He looked down at his cloak, still soaked with water from the rain, now with alcohol intermixed.&nbsp; His grin slowly faded, replaced with a painted on look of irritation.&nbsp; Something about it was clearly fake, as the dark brown material of his cloak was so old and ragged that a few ale-stains were hardly anything worth getting upset about.&nbsp; Nevertheless Oz turned, casting his gaze in the direction of the man clad in leopard skin.<br><br>"Fat, crazy, old, and fool.&nbsp; Impressive that you managed to levy so many accusations in one sentence."&nbsp; His tone was sharp and condescending while his face seemed to betray his devil may care nature, "Though I've never seen anyone quite so offended at the suggestion that there <em>might</em> be a necropolis.&nbsp; 'fraid someone might go there and steal yer girlfriend?"<br><br>He kept his arms crossed, seeming nonchalant and cocky.&nbsp; Moments before it never would've dawned on him that the bard's song would've preceded <strong>him</strong> picking a fight.&nbsp; He didn't like being predictable and failed to consider that others might see it that way, but he was simply following an impulse.&nbsp; It was something he was very familiar with.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nimmy</strong> on <strong>20-06-2009, 00:53:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Cael paused on the stairs for a moment, looking around. Another patron brushed by him, giving him an odd look on his way down to the common room. He looked around - there had been a voice, he thought, but now he wasn't so sure, not after the way that man had looked at him. He continued to his room for the night and was pleased to find a fire burning. He arranged his room slightly so he could spread his wet things out to dry and changed into warm, dry clothes. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about the state of his boots, so he stepped back into them with a grimace.<br><br>He sat on his bed to ponder what he had thought he heard. It had been... odd was not quite a strong enough word for it, but it was the best he could come up with. What meaning did the sound have, if any?<br><br>Sighing, he ran a comb through his hair and pulled it back out of his face, catching the strands with a folded bandanna and releasing the ponytail once more. He figured by now that enough time had passed that the song the bard had been playing was mostly over (or at least the parts that rang up memories of his unpleasant childhood), and decided to return to the tavern and... mingle... with the other patrons. Maybe he'd hear some interesting rumors that would give him a new quest to pursue.<br><br>Times like this, he really wished he had someone to talk to on these long nights, rather than sitting and listening at the bar. He felt like such an outsider...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>iridum248</strong> on <strong>20-06-2009, 03:56:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>"I wish that this song wasn't played. It sometimes makes fools of men. Most men don't know what war can really be like, and so few hear the full cycle."</em><br><br>Lucille nodded, feelingly; In the brief time since her ordination, she'd skirmished with the...humanoid...tribes- And she felt a small twist of smothered, repellant desire in the pit of her belly- realising, too late, that somehow, the heroic sagas had unaccountably left out the aftermath of violence. After all, when one strikes with the power of thunder and the speed of lightning, the results are...<br><br>-Then *something* jolted through her, like a crackle of lightning...Sizzling down her spine in a sudden, startling moment; Her eyes widened as she stiffened, too surprised to hide it, knowing, somehow, that something was *wrong*...<br><br>But where? The lady knight's gaze flitted over the crowd, over the boisterous bustle of a tavern at night- She couldn't *see* anything, but she could sense it, a coil of uncertanity roiling through her-<br><br>Her eyes narrowed. "Something's...wrong," she whispered, her voice carrying to her companion. "Did you just- *feel*- something...?" Despite herself, the blonde paladiness's hand slid down, laying a hand on the solid metal ingot of her mace- Feeling for its reassuring weight.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Darkforged Dove</strong> on <strong>20-06-2009, 19:20:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Something "wrong" was the last thing he wanted to hear. He had just wanted to <em>eat</em> for once. To eat dinner, indoors, warm, comfortable, on land. Just finished eating, and knowing trouble was going to occur was the last thing that he wanted to hear. He wouldn't be able to digest, his stomach was still breaking down the food; and he had drunk more than a few mugs of ale.<br><br><em>and here I am. Just finished eating. deep breaths, slow breath, cool, cold, freezing. ice.</em><br><br>"I don't feel anything, but if a paladin says something's wrong. I'll go along. I... should step outside. Don't worry, I'll be back if something <em>does</em> happen, just shout and I'll be back... I just need some fresh air after all of this heavy food and drink. Oh, and call me Glais. Like the second half of Douglas."<br><br>He finished off the the last scrap of bread soaked in the gravy, drank down the last of his ale, and got up. Slowly making his way to the doorway. He stood just outside, under the eaves of the building, breathing slowly, as if catching his breath. Watching the rain come down, and listening if anything interesting, or loud, happened inside.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>23-06-2009, 21:43:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				In his sparse boarder's room, Cael can almost touch both walls at once.&nbsp; Rain trails the windows like silvery fingers, though the rain seems to have abated for now.&nbsp; Through the floor, he can make out the muted laughter of a woman, the roar of the crowd... then sudden silence.&nbsp; There is no sound but the soft ringing in his ears of a sudden silence, then, among it, the rustling of leaves, the whisper of dew falling from breeze-stirred branches.&nbsp; As he turns toward the door, he becomes aware of a presence, immediately behind him, that was not there before... a shape, blocking the window.&nbsp; A broad-shouldered man stands in the shadows of the rooms small oillamp, his bare shoulders like knots of wrist-thick vines.&nbsp; His hair, wild and unkempt, is youthful, angular.&nbsp; His breath is the only sound before he speaks.&nbsp; "Cael," he says softly.&nbsp; "It is time."<br><br>*<br><br>Downstairs, Oz finds hmiself staring up into the face of the massive, leopard-clad man, his eyes screwing up in a look of disgust as his huge shoulders heave with rage.&nbsp; &nbsp;The one-eyed warrior who, up to now, had been content to nurse his cider lets his chair topple to the floor as he as well, and with an effortless motion he lunges forth toward Oz to loom over him.-- all sixteen stone of him coiled and ready to strike.&nbsp; "Necropolis?" Says the pelt-wearer, who turns from where he's been standnig to leer down at Oz.&nbsp; "You be listening to me speak all night, or jus now did you get an urge to die, worm?"&nbsp; His hand creeps toward the stout, knarly club at his belt.&nbsp; There is a rustling of wind-whipped silk behind him, and suddenly the weapon is gone-- his hands close on the air, and he blinks rapidly and stares down to where his club had been.&nbsp; "Wha--" The bearded, bald man and the one-eyed grunt lunge for Oz, their drinmk limiting the finess of their attack to a ham-fisted lurch of mass.<br><br>*<br><br>Lucille senses something evil is transpiring around her, and the icy chill down her spine returns.&nbsp; Shadows are gathering at the windows of the tavern like whirling black mists and she can sense through her growing unnease that the tavern are being surrounded.&nbsp; There is the feeling of whispering at her ears, and for a moment she thinks she can hear words.&nbsp; "-- ordained by the piss of a so-called god, no doubt... oh, what a wate of flesh... let us take it..."&nbsp; "... nay, so many to seize upon, we must snatch the berry before we snare the fox..." "ooooh, but she craves it she does..."&nbsp; Her mace feels reassuring in her hand, and the icy feeling creeps thruogh her body in ways she doesn't entirely expect...<br><br>*<br><br>Katarzyna is passnig the door, and feels a number of presences without the structure.&nbsp; A well-shouldered man with eyes like the sea sidles past her for the door, some look of intent in his eyes (Glais).&nbsp; He seems determined to get more than fresh air from the outside, and she can see in his carriage that he is something more than human.&nbsp; Soemthing in him is good, and the dark goddess' grip on her seems to bristle at his presence... that is forgotten, however, as the dark one's gift makes her aware that, at this very moment, something black, shapeless-- like living smoke, is curling its way around her calf.&nbsp; In that spectre she can see forms that fade and reform, as of hands attemptint to climb up her body.<br><br>*<br><br>The music that flies from Krin's lips and fingers is reaching a crecendo, and as if possessed he springs to his feet-- he is on the broad span of a wooden table without having intended to do so.&nbsp; The boards thump under his feet as he dances, and words spring into his mouth.&nbsp; He drops the flute from his lips as he cants a story&nbsp; in a language he does not recognize, but somehow knows... "And it shall come to pass that the city will rise that has been forgotten, and its people shall ride the skins of the children of light and shall lead them to darkness! "&nbsp; The moment passes, suddenly, and Krin finds himself staring into the eyes of a dumbfounded audience-- the dancing seems to have stopped, as has the singing.&nbsp; A brawl appears to be breaking out in the back of the room, and a shrill cry pierces the night from outside--<br><br>*<br><br>(simultaneous with prior)&nbsp; Glais sees the rain-drenched night beyond the tavern door, the cool of the air and the welcoming moisture waft over and through him like the breath of the sea.&nbsp; The wench and her quarry seem to be rutting against the runnnig board of a nearby wagon-- the trader's velvet-clad back is toward the door, and her hair can be seen over his shoulder.&nbsp; No army can be seen, though the fresh rain's mist creeps up from the soil like smoke from the ashes of the world.&nbsp; And then, whether he'd intended to spy them or not, he notices something... well, vile.&nbsp; A spattering sound, and the splash of something ichorous at the couple's feet.&nbsp; The angle affords him little view, but from the distance something surprising becomes evident: the trader's head flips back like a corn husk, the tendons that connected it in front having been removed in a gory rending.&nbsp; The dead man's head rests between his shoulders and a the girl's head-- her hair matter with blood-- bobs where she seems to be working at his chest-- perhaps, it seems, chewing.<br><br>*<br><br>(back to Lucille for new info)&nbsp; The paladin knows, suddenly and certainly, that she is surrounded by the dead.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Jude</strong> on <strong>23-06-2009, 22:33:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The men behaved mostly as Oz predicted, but he hadn't counted on one of them reaching for their weapon and being unable to find it.&nbsp; Something about it struck Oz as <em>off</em>, but he couldn't quite figure out why, and chalked it up to drunkenness.&nbsp; For once he wasn't the drunk one, an advantage he clearly counted on.&nbsp; Of the few barfights Oz had been in, this was the first he'd actually instigated.&nbsp; Usually he lost, as he found himself preyed upon by much larger men while in a drunken state that prevented him from utilizing his agility.<br><br>As they lunged forward he animated to life from his pose, quickly attempting to sidestep their clumsy attacks and counter by aiming for their crotch with a series of swift, somehow playful kicks.&nbsp; He didn't know if he'd win, but it almost didn't matter.&nbsp; Fighting for Oz wasn't about hurting anyone, it was about feeling alive.&nbsp; The pain was somehow enlightening, and it always felt good to inflict a little righteous suffering on the overzealous.<br><br>Today he was fighting for the underdog, something he also did from time to time, a holdover from his first profession.&nbsp; Even when he lost the fight, Oz refused to lose submit to anything; sometimes going as far as to laugh in the face of the man pummeling him unconscious.&nbsp; If things got out of hand he had his dagger at the ready, but didn't want to resort to that.&nbsp; Stays in prison weren't fun:&nbsp; they didn't let you drink there.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>iridum248</strong> on <strong>24-06-2009, 00:34:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>They're *dead*...</em> A cold, chill frission of realistion tingled through her, as Lucille rose, her chair skidding back across the floor...The lady knight's eyes widened, as the sense of terrible <em>wrongness</em> clicked into place; She'd been so utterly surrounded by them, it'd been almost impossible to pick them out! <br><br>Her holy symbol was in one hand, her other aching to grip her mace! The crowd was stirring, the bard's music faltering as he, too, froze- Another dead man? Or a living one? As the darkness drew closer, drawing tight in a pitch-black patina over the window, the paladin squeezed the reassuring metal token, comforted by its very presence ...<br><br>"In the name of the Light," she murmured, feeling the cool metal warm, a numinous white radiance surging forth, "In the name of the Light..." for the merest moment, it *flickered*, as she heard the soft whisper of <em>she craves it, she does...</em> drawing a little gasp to her lips- How could they...How could they *know*? The paladin's gaze darted around the room, her breathing quickening, shivering ever-so-slightly...Not entirely from fear, feeling a dark, taboo thrill tingle through her- Unsure whether to flee, to start smiting, or to <em>linger</em>...<br><br>Abruptly, she realised she'd drawn the attention to herself- Or least, they now knew that *she* knew, and Lady Lucille shivered again, feeling <em>hungry</em> eyes darting over her curvy form...A sound somewhere between a creak and sigh hissed from her parted lips; Frozen by indecision, she hesitated, stock-still, like a deer in the glare of a hunter's torch- All too aware of how *vulnerable* she was, without her armor, stowed in its travelling case... 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nimmy</strong> on <strong>24-06-2009, 00:58:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A broad-shouldered man stands in the shadows of the rooms small oillamp, his bare shoulders like knots of wrist-thick vines.&nbsp; His hair, wild and unkempt, is youthful, angular.&nbsp; His breath is the only sound before he speaks.&nbsp; "Cael," he says softly.&nbsp; "It is time."<br>--<br><br>Cael had been just about to leave his tiny room, detained for a moment by the rain on his window - a comforting sound and sight, at least when one was indoors and dry - when it happened. Loud, joyous (so it seemed) sounds were a common occurrence in taverns, and he had taken no notice of them. Until they became obvious in their absence. Complete silence made him stop in his tracks and listen to it.<br><br>Through the ringing in his ears, he heard sounds that he had heard so many times before - leaves rustling. But he was indoors, and even were he not, it would be a wet sound due to the rain. Things were getting very strange. He shivered slightly at the oddity he was experiencing and clenched and unclenched his fists.<br><br>"Come now, Cael," he whispered to himself. "Downstairs to the crowd with you." He turned to the door and stopped yet again. This time, a violent chill ran up his spine and he shivered quite a lot in response. Eyes on his back. Slowly he turned, slipping the hilt of the knife strapped to his forearm into his hand. He flipped it out as he faced the man by his window, the light from the weak lamp causing shadows to dance around the intruder.<br><br>"Time for what?" he demanded, eyes narrowing. "Who are you and what are you doing in my room? Why are you here!"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>The Greater Cause</strong> on <strong>24-06-2009, 07:29:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				After Krin finished his ranting speach he only stood there wide eyed stareing into the crowd. "What the?" was all he could say at the moment. He looked around at the crowd staring at him which caused him to slightly blush. Then he noticed the paladin saying 'In the name of the light!' over and over again. Krin swallowed hard as his mind started intertaining gruesome thoughts as to what might happen next. He quickly made up his mind and with a quick bow he stated "Thank you!" Krin picked up his flute and put the strap of his lute around his shoulder then slung it over his back. He grabbed his pot of tips and ran off upstairs hurredly packing up his bags. <br><br>"Man some serious stuffs about to pop off and I gotta go!" He complained outloud to himself. He took off his lute then put on his bag then lute again and started walking downstairs. He managed to split the tips in half and place it into a small sack. As he departed he slipped it to his dancing partner and whispered, "I have a bad fealing about this... I'm leaving come with me if you like." He whispered as he hurridly headed for the door wadeing through the crowd. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Darkforged Dove</strong> on <strong>24-06-2009, 15:40:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He looked sideways at the ghoulish sight out of the corner of his eye. '<em>Trouble</em>' had found him even here. He sighed and stepped forward into the rain. A bolt of lighting cracked in the distance as he looked up, and felt the rain soak him. His arms felt as if he had plunged them into a glacial stream, and the water hitting him turned white, crystalline, ice.<br><br>The wet, tearing, sounds of raw meat being ripped and chewed didn't distract him, he looked up at the clouds and lifted his arms to the sky.<br><br>The rain seemed to fly right to him, the ice began to build up like a shell, armour. In moments he was encased in a suit of white and blue ice. From head to toe he was covered in thick sheets of ice. The clawed gauntlets on his hands made cracking, snapping noised, as he flexed his right hand, and more ice began to pour out of his hand into an icicle that he gripped like a club.<br><br>He turned to look at the dead man, who was too far beyond healing, in regret. If the trader had shouted, or leapt back before his neck was chewed through, Glais might have been able to cleanse his blood and close his wounds. The only thing left for now was to make sure that the killing creature was disposed of. <br><br>He looked at the pair, dead, and undead and only said one word before slamming his left hand onto the creature's neck to pin it to the bottom of the cart. <br><br>"sorry"<br><br>It wasn't a girl anymore. It was just a souless <em>thing</em>. A thing that had killed. That was the only issue that mattered to him. It had killed a man for food, and would do so again, and probably done so in the past. It was a pest to be exterminated. He did a half clamber, half jump, on top of the dead man. Straddling the dead man, and pinning the creature who was eating the trader, down. With the whole of this weight ont= the creature to hold it in place he began smashing the frozen club on the false girl's face over, and over, and over again. <br><br>The club bruised and broke flesh as it went up and down in the air, like a thresher beating down to separate the wheat from the chaff. Each swing splattered blood, bone chips, brain matter and gore that went in all directions. Turning the creatures face into a badly malfunctioning fountain, spraying matter in time with the blows from the ice-club in random directions. The front of the sealed-shut helmet, the front of the armour, the dead man's remains, the sides of the cart and the ice-rod suffered supplementary splatterings of spoiled sanguineous stuff.<br><br>"sorry"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marlow</strong> on <strong>25-06-2009, 02:26:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Katarzyna froze in mid stride, her eyes darkening as she glanced at her leg, the incorporeal mist clawing up her left leg.&nbsp; She smiled then, full of malice and content. The dead were walking hand in hand with the living tonight, and in that she found her power. <br><br>A disembodied shriek filled the room then, as the arm reeled suddenly as Kat let her dark powers flow through her body. They sensed the dark Goddess' blessing on her. The dark Goddess Nebtenwesh, enemy to all not in service to her. The dead fell in to that category.<br><br>"Your powers won't work well hear, Paladin," she called in the suddenly silent room. Living shadow was swirling in the room now, and, ironically, the only place untainted was at the feet of Katarzyna, slave to darkness. <br><br>Raising her hands to her sides, palms outstretched, she prayed, and flashes of light fought back the shadows. "I can keep the insidious bastards at bay, but you must deal with the flesh and blood in this room," she instructed the Paladin as she fought with her magic. "We may serve different masters, but none have a love for the dead."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Jude</strong> on <strong>25-06-2009, 03:01:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It took Nebtenwesh's servant unleashing her power in the Tavern and the resultant shriek for Oz to realize there was actually something serious going down.&nbsp; He extracted himself from the clumsy fight as best he could and pulled out his silvery dagger from a sheath within his cloak.&nbsp; He looked to the two men he'd been brawling with and spoke in a conciliatory tone, "Seems we got bigger problems than each other right now."<br><br>Through the sudden silence he could hear the woman he identified as an "albino" speaking to some rich, noble type carrying a mace and a shield; but what kinda noble had heavy weaponry?&nbsp; It dawned on him, the Paladin and Dark Servant were having a friendly chat.&nbsp; Oz smirked at the juxtaposition and listened to what they had to say as best he could.<br><br>"Seems like you were wrong.&nbsp; There is a necropolis.&nbsp; We're there."&nbsp; The night kept getting more and more interesting.&nbsp; "Nothin' short of a celebratory orgy afterwards could top this.&nbsp; Assuming there <strong>is</strong> an afterwards."&nbsp; Oz bolted for the bar, counting on his ex-combatants wising up to the situation too.&nbsp; He couldn't be bothered with them right now, he had some special cocktails to make for their guests.&nbsp; It had been raining all day, but hopefully that wouldn't matter.&nbsp; And even more importantly, hopefully the Tavernmaster wouldn't charge him for the wasted spirits.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>iridum248</strong> on <strong>25-06-2009, 08:00:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The sharp, piercing wail of the shadows shook Lady Lucille from her reverie; The paladiness blinked, and shook her head, trying to clear the mists of confusion from it! She'd been...distracted...by the clammy, oppressive sensations of...<br><br>-*Evil*. <br><br>With that thought, her will firmed, the six-bladed morningstar- Her Order's signature weapon- catching the flickering light as she turned it in her hands! The lady knight shook back her blonde tresses, raising her shield, streamers of brown muslin peeling away from it...<br><br>"Aye!" the paladin called, taking heart from the woman's words...A self-admitted servant of Darkness she might be, but in this their causes were united. Besides, she wasn't the only person, surrounded by the dead...Where her own, particular <em>weakness</em> might be exposed...<br><br>Her dress swirling around her legs, Lucille waded in, swinging her mace in wide, sweeping arcs- The dead shied back from the lethal weapon as it looped and howled through the tendrils of shadow-stuff, warding them back as she struggled toward the woman, eager to make a stand before the madness buried them *both*! 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>30-06-2009, 03:43:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Cael manages to catch the bearded brute betwen the thighs with a solidly planted kick that seems to infuriate and bewilder rather than cripple him, but the leopard-skin wearer chases him to the bar long enough to tackle the smaller man to the table.&nbsp; He seems oblivious to the madness ensuing behind him.&nbsp; Spun round, Oz finds himself staring up into the swarthy, thick-lined face with eyes so brazenly angry that white can be seen the whole way round.&nbsp; The bald one left behind seems to have found himself distracted by something vefy powerful and unexpected: a familiar club has taken temporary residence at the base of his head's dome and brought him to the ground atop his legs in a slow-crumpling heap.&nbsp; <br><br>The pelt-wearing warrior bares what seem to be file-sharpened teeth down upon Oz as spit flies from his lips.&nbsp; "I about to make you a woman, whelp--" and then, the cause of his bearded friend's awkward agony earlier is apparent: the bearded one is suddenly at his friend's neck, sinking fingers into the pelt-wearer's collarbones and ripping him to his feet with the ferocity of a piglet in the jaws of a wolf.&nbsp; Blood mists Oz's face as the bearded mercenary proceeds to feast on his friend's throat-- his face a contorted mask, his eyes solid white and lolling about blindly, his tongue purple and swollen and his skin a bee's-waxy yellow where the blood doesn't obscure it.<br><br>*<br><br>Cael feels the stir of a warm breeze at the base of his neck as the large man steps closer.&nbsp; What could, at first, have been supposed to be robes or some other garment are clearly none-- his body is thick-muscled like something carved from amber pine, and equally bare but for the winding garland of thin, curling green vines and leaves.<br><br>He looks down into Cael's eyes from what must be a height of easily seven feet, and his skin smells like rich earth.&nbsp; "Your homeplace is besieged by that which will not return to the earth."&nbsp; His hawkish eyes pinch in disgust at the thought.&nbsp; "Even now, that which lives and dies finds its cycle interrupted, and we weaken.&nbsp; We all weaken..."&nbsp; He sighs, sympathy and sorrow in his eyes.&nbsp; "Everything must die, but it must return to the earth.&nbsp; You understand this..."&nbsp; his hand rests upon Cael's shoulder, warm and heavy.&nbsp; "You know how things must be, and your hands can heal that which is wounded."&nbsp; He nods, backs away, the musk of him receding in the room.&nbsp; "Heal now."<br><br>Heavy footsteps pass the door, cause it to rattle in its frame and the hinge to fall open-- in the lamplight from the hallway, the tree-man disappears, and a shadow passes the door--<br><br>*<br><br>-- as Krin clambours through the hallway, dragging his pack.&nbsp; Down the stairs in a torrent of footfalls, he sees his dancing partner in the midst of the crowd.&nbsp; For some reason, she's carrying a massive club, its gnarled round hammer dark with a tiny patch of fresh blood.&nbsp; "Hmm?&nbsp; Going?&nbsp; Yes, I think, but not yet."&nbsp; She tips her long-fingered hand in a brief indication of the mayhem that has started to ensue.&nbsp; "I think it best we tend to this, yes?"<br><br>Before the two of them at the bar, a massive brute in a leather tabbard is ripping a man apart in a torrent of blood and bile.&nbsp; The flailing, dying man goes limp and falls, and the brute seems to lose interest.&nbsp; His intent now is on the young man before him-- a regular of the past few nights.&nbsp; He stares with white eyes like fat larvae at the man, preparing to lunge.&nbsp; Beyond him, a tavern wench topples backward at the flailing assault of a scrawny man whose face, for some reason, has sprouted black disks like insect eyes across his forehead and cheeks, and whose mouth is hanging in mockery of surprise.<br><br>*<br><br>Lucille's holy weapon seems to guide her, and the shadows-- as if giving purchase, assume the forms of dozens of sickly-thin humanoids springing back as she wades into the fray.&nbsp; A horrid-faced ghoul of a man springs to his feet before her, his eyes white and his mouth black with some tar-like regurgitation.&nbsp; Out of instinct, she smashes his face and a hiss of steam erupts where the holy weapon lays him back into the wall.&nbsp; The shadows roil and circle like vultures afraid of a still-fighting Kill. <br><br>Across the floor, the crowd has thinned: all that remain are those who flee, those who fight, those who kill and those who die.&nbsp; The wood floor is sodden with fresh blood and littered with rended flesh.<br><br>Katarzyna hears a shrill laugh, the wail of a disembodied voice that is more a chorus of twelve wailing children than a single speaking tongue.&nbsp; "BUT THE DEAD LOOOOVE YOU... TIME TO PAY YOUR DEBT!"&nbsp; A thick-necked woman with curls at her head screams into the paladin's face in the hoarse shriek of a stuck pig and rushes forward... her legs entwine with each other and suddenly she is scrambling through the open floor on four legs, then six-- blood trails behind her, as do pieces of flesh, and her dress shreds itself from her lower torso-- claws and pinchers of bulbous flesh protrude from where her abdomen should have been, and an open maw of some sort-- or, perhaps, a vagina with teeth-- barrell down upon Katarzyna.<br><br>Lucille sees this horrifying transformation and realizes that Katarzyna's not the only one challeneged; a massive man in leopard pelts has arisen to his feet from the direction of the bar, despite that his head seems to be held in place by only the remnant flap of half-eaten flesh that connects his skull to his shoulders.&nbsp; With a lurching spasm, he flips his head back to where it should be rather than where it was dangling, and he breathes a deep, wet gurgle that seems to double his size.&nbsp; The shadows that had pooled in the floor seem to be flowing into both him and the humonculous of a wench, and soon there are no shadows free in the room.&nbsp; Some shambling beasts clatter about, some scuffle for their lives still, but somehow the forces are concentrated here...<br><br>*<br><br>Glais feels the evil that had taken hold of the girl seep away, and gradually what is left of her dead form relax and the anguish on her face settles to disquiet, then to peace.&nbsp; It's actually quite peaceful, and after the rain crickets have started to sing.<br><br>Then a piercing scream from within the tavern fills the night.&nbsp; Something inside Glais seems to sing to him, seems to beg for him to free it... he can hear the ocean, and he knows, somehow, that he is the keeper of what is right and natural.<br><br>From the tavern door, bodies crash in a scramble to flee some horror like rats from a burning ship.&nbsp; <br><br>Something falls from the girl's hand, and it's clear she was clutching it the whole time-- a tiny stone, like the petrified innards of a long-dissolved shell, in a tight spiral that, somehow, resembles a tooth.&nbsp; Laying there on the grass, he can barely make it out-- it seems to be on a thin leather cord, as if she, or someone, has been wearing it.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marlow</strong> on <strong>30-06-2009, 05:05:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Katarzyna reeled back as the shambling creature, once a world-weary woman, ran at her with disorderly legs. "Shit," she cursed, rolling out of the way and flashing a sign with her free hand, her other supporting her crouched form, as a fissure erupted in the empty space in front of her and she reached in to the emptiness, pulling free a simple, obsidian blade adorned with a lily flower at the base of the blade. Turning on her heal, she thrust out the blade, impaling the monstrous former-woman.<br><br>And then she was flailing, greenish-black smoke churning at the mouth of the wound, through her 'gut'. "The Dark Queen consume you, retched filth," she howled, pulling the blade free along with the smoke as the woman wailed once more, before growing silent, the smoke eating away at the remains. <br><br>It was not an easy task for Kat. Her face, normally opalescent and crystalline, was run through with cracks around her eyes. It was as if her delving in to the shadow-realm had caused her mortal grievance. <br><br>Panting heavily, she stood again, looking at the now nearly empty room, only the shambling dead remaining. Growling, she hefted her blade and charged forward, piercing the scrawny man after the wench, the same greenish-black smoke eating away at the creature. The cracks along Kat's face grew, and she hissed in pain. <br><br>Thrusting her black blade deep in to the floor boards, she knelt, her hand clutching at her forearm as she focused her energies on the bald creature at the bar, letting loose a bolt of white light that pierces the ghoul through the shoulder, throwing him back over the bar. Pulling her blade free, she looks to Lucille and the pelt wearer stalking her down.<br><br>Cursing to herself again, she tries to run to the Paladin's aid, but without her armour to fuel her dark energies, she has exhausted her last remaining bouts of strength, and can only manage a stumbling pace to the Paladin's side.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nimmy</strong> on <strong>30-06-2009, 06:28:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He looks down into Cael's eyes from what must be a height of easily seven feet, and his skin smells like rich earth.&nbsp; "Your homeplace is besieged by that which will not return to the earth."&nbsp; His hawkish eyes pinch in disgust at the thought.&nbsp; "Even now, that which lives and dies finds its cycle interrupted, and we weaken.&nbsp; We all weaken..."&nbsp; He sighs, sympathy and sorrow in his eyes.&nbsp; "Everything must die, but it must return to the earth.&nbsp; You understand this..."&nbsp; his hand rests upon Cael's shoulder, warm and heavy.&nbsp; "You know how things must be, and your hands can heal that which is wounded."&nbsp; He nods, backs away, the musk of him receding in the room.&nbsp; "Heal now."<br>--<br><br>Cael involuntarily took a step back as the man approached him. He dropped his knife as he did so - this man (creature? being? He wasn't sure what to call it) wasn't a threat, or so his instincts told him. It helped that he hadn't attacked from behind when he had every opportunity to do so. He was... odd-looking. He looked like he was covered in bark. He stood his ground, now slightly curious (and very calm), as the creature came closer.<br><br>"My homeland...?" Cael asked quietly. He couldn't remember ever finding somewhere he felt at home. How was he supposed to deal with whatever... threat... was there. The creature's words were cryptic, but he felt like he knew what he was talking about. He just couldn't put his finger on it as his mind started going numb to everything but watching and listening. And being in some awe of the presence before him.<br><br>Cael snapped out of his stupor when the creature literally disappeared and he heard heavy footsteps passing the door. He looked around, noting that his room was as he last consciously remembered it. He picked up his knife and tucked it back into his sleeve. Now that his mind was clear of the presence of the tree-creature, Cael thought about what had just occurred objectively. That hadn't been a hallucination, because there were tiny bits of bark on the shoulder of his tunic, but what had it meant?<br><br>He suddenly became aware of a ruckus downstairs, and frowned. That was not an ordinary bar fight. Something was wrong. He shoved the cryptic message from the tree-creature to the back of his mind and headed for the stairs and down. The knife up his sleeve had dropped back down into his hand as he went, but halfway down the stairs, Cael stopped and quickly rethought his weapon choice. He fled back up the stairs to his room, and strapped his swords on quickly.<br><br>He leaned on a wall, eyes wide as the reality of what he had just seen set in. He quickly got all of his things packed up and on his person before going to descend again. As soon as he was able, he was getting the hell out of here. Those... things... in the common room were NOT human.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Jude</strong> on <strong>30-06-2009, 07:08:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The leopard clad man being pulled from him seemed like a welcomed reprieve at first.&nbsp; Immediately after Oz began to run his mouth, "Lucky m--" and stopped abruptly when the figure that grabbed his assailant came into sight.&nbsp; He lingered for a moment catching his breath and watching in horror as one of his enemies devoured another before realizing the situation he was in.&nbsp; If he wanted to get out of this alive, he'd have to move.<br><br>Deftly pulling himself back to his feet, Oz made his way to the bar and jumped over the counter, knocking over a few dormant drinks on the way.&nbsp; He hadn't noticed the tankards clang against the surface, but he felt the liquid oozing down over the counter and splattering on him and the ground by.&nbsp; Kneeling behind the counter, he peeked his head up to catch a glimpse of the action and a sniff of the liquid.<br><br>It seemed flammable enough, but he wasn't sure if lighting a widespread fire was a good idea in these close quarters.&nbsp; He looked back to the area around the bar, searching for anything of use.&nbsp; Most of the alcohol he managed to find wasn't anything that would naturally burn, Ale was just too heavy in water content to really light up like he needed.&nbsp; But he did happen across a few glass bottles of whiskey.<br><br>Oz reached down and grabbed the bottom of his cloak, and began tearing off small pieces of it and laying them on the floor.&nbsp; He had experience in making cocktails from a brief stent as a bartender, but not ones of this variety.&nbsp; He opened one of the bottles of whiskey after another, dousing the newly torn brown strips lightly in the liquid. The intensifying of the sound on the other side of the counter briefly interrupted his work, as he found then popped back up to eye level with the counter to take another glance and snag a candle.<br><br>The flame dancing on the waxen tip seemed crimson in the glow of the magic from out in the room.&nbsp; Watching those blessed by deities at work sent a bit of doubt straight to his stomach, he had no idea if this would work or not, but it was all he could manage to do.&nbsp; Unlike the Paladin and the Goddess' Servant, Oz possessed no magic or divine protection; all he ever had going for him was wits and luck.<br><br>"Time to see if that's enough."&nbsp; He whispered out loud to himself before draping the scraps now inserted into the bottles across the candle's flame and tossing them to the other side of the counter with some aim and a little careless abandon.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>iridum248</strong> on <strong>01-07-2009, 15:21:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As the pack of howling ghouls circled her amid the wild melee, Lucille menaced them with shield and mace, feeling the adrenaline of the fight surge through her! Outnumbered as she was, this was the kind of battle she'd trained for...To smite the minions of Evil with the Hand of Light!<br><br>"Begone, things of Evil! Back into the earth, beneath the sight of the pure!" she bellowed, a full-throated shout, her mace flaring with wild tics of lightning as she swung and smashed- Her shield was a weapon, too, as she sliced with the rim and bashed with the face, barging the nearest lurching undead back, then shattering it with a sledgehammer blow. All thought faded as, for a long, endless moment, there was only the precise, lethal swings of her bladed mace, and the grinding effort of each parry-<br><br>Then a roar, a shattering blast of hideous sound sent her reeling, as the hideous, fleshy abdomination- Warped bodies fused together in a hideous embrace- died in violent, thrashing spasms, vile black shadowstuff spilling up from the seeping wounds. Someone staggered towards her, in a lurching gait, and she raised her weapon on instinct...Only to see it was the priestess, limping now, exhausted from the mighty feat! <br><br>There was a lull in the combat, as the once-dead fell on the bodies on the twice-slain, even as the writhing tendrils of darkness surged, sucked into a decaying cadaver of a man; His leopard pelt oddly vividly amid the carnage, he *grew* with each breath, expanding in grosteque lurches...<br><br>Her eyes flickering between the lesser undead and their apparent leader- Now bloated with tangible, reeking corruption- Lady Lucille moved to interpose herself, a tangible barrier between the woman and danger. Dimly, she realised- Though gore drenched her fancy gown, and the scrapes and cuts of nails and dead fists ached- the armored priestess was *wounded*, far worse than her merely physical injuries. <br><br>"Can you stand?" The knight's voice was the quick, curt grunt of battle-argot, belying the flash of real concern in her eyes. She considering offering healing energies- Only to conclude that a novice like herself could do more harm than good. "Rest; We have a moment, before the foul leader's upon us- I'll strike..."<br><br><em>Whoomph</em>, and flame blossomed in a eye-searing burst, glass splintering as the smell of smoke- And burning alchol- filled the air! Fire? Was there someone still *alive* in here, beside them? A crimson glow glimmered somewhere in the moiling chaos of capering undead, lending a hellish illumination to the scene- <br><br>A quick glance at the priestess, an urgent "To the *door*," and Lady Lucille strode forward, toward the hulking beast, as if she wore full armor- Ready to meet the shuddering abdomination toe-to-toe, at least until the woman was clear! "Abdomination! Face me!" the lady knight called, a clear challenge in her voice, carrying across the common room to the creature's ears!
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>03-07-2009, 18:11:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				*last chance for actions: will edit this post to continue the combat if there's no other PC acts*
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [Quest of Falls Road] The Bleeding Lamb</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Darkforged Dove</strong> on <strong>03-07-2009, 19:01:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				His head turned sideways to look at the pendant in the mud. He got off the wagon, and its corpses, and climbed back to the ground. Bending his knees, he scooped up the pendent and pushed it against the lower side of his armour, waiting for the ice to hold it in place.<br><br>He began to walk to the door of the tavern, and hoped that not many more people would die here tonight. After years of this thrust upon duty, he was sick of it. He had never wanted it, had never asked for it, had almost never enjoyed it. Decades of rage and hatred at what he was forced into becoming, and what he 'had' to do turned him cold and vicious whenever he had to fight. <br><br>He pushed the door open with the clenched fist around his icey club, as a sheet of thickening ice began to spread and grow on his lifted left forearm.<br><br>The tavern was a mess. The usual suspects, against their usual opponents. He inwardly sighed, and lifted the wall of ice on his left arm in front of him as he began to force his way through the panicking crowd. His right arm outstreched behind him, the weapon pointing down, ready to fly forward as he kept shouldering his way through the patrons, tables, chair, strewn tankards and spilled ale.<br><br>Every step freezes the ground where his feet tread, hoary footprints on ancient planks of wood, frozen beer, frosted table edges and chair back. The bulk of the undead here are killed, there only remains this.... hulking thing.<br><br><em>This would be a shitty death</em><br><br>He raises the war-door to cover his torso and most of his legs, only his lower shins and feet are possibly visible behind the massive block of ice, and charges at the creature. Hopefully pinning it with his shield and beating it with the club will give the others in the room a chance to get in close, or attack it freely.<br><br>Glais hears a shattering sound, and the roar of a belching fire goes off as his sheild slams into the creature. The club whips around the tower shield and hits the creature's left side. The creature roars, twice. <br><br><em>Fire?! Where?</em><br><br>His helmet whips around to see where the fire is being thrown from. The bar, a man has seveal bottles ready with cloth wicks. He takes a step to the side, as an other bottle comes flying and breaking on the creature. The bottle shatters and covers it in more fuel for the already licking flames. Glais sidesteps again before moving forward before he begins to use his shield to press against his enemy and whip it with the ice club while it's distracted.<br><br>Hopefully the thing would fall before the ice shrouding him would completely melt... or boil.
			</dd>
		</dl>
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