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A pub, somewhere, at some time, with ... someone!


Evildoer2512
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Coin the Genucian, scampers into the pub, and wanders over to the barkeeper, and asks 'Can i have the cherry soda pop please, Shaken, not stirred' She takes the thimble of drink to a table and starts sipping, watching the door, ((All yours guys! looking for more players to join my guild, c'mon, it's fuuuuun))

Edited by Evildoer2512
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  • 6 months later...

Across the common room, in  a darkened corner sit's a figure in midnight blue leathers. It's face is obscured in a dark cloth mask, but the profile is unmistakable. Beneath the mask an elongated nose, and atop it's head two worn and chipped horns. Elken. A stalker.

 

Coin's ear's tick up, that creeping sensation on the back of the neck as the hairs stand, the feeling of being watched.

 

Slowly the stalker raises a single gloved hand and points at Coin, before tapping the table across from itself. Then, as though paying coin no more attention, it smoothly scoops up a goblet from the table and drinks through the cloth of it's mask. An almost luminescent trail dribbles down the mask and onto it's armor, before abruptly rising like smoke and dissipating.

 

[OOC] Edit:  I thought I looked at the post date on this, guess it's dead. Next.... Lol

Edited by SkEyesOGrey
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Coin sent the raven only hours ago, setting the place and time of the meet. The Order could not have responded so quickly, yet there the Elken sits. Either they have been tracking her the whole time, or the Elken isn't an agent of Order. 

 

She looks to the door again, gauging her chances of escape. A human sitting near the entrance catches her eye, briefly, before returning to the earnest contemplation of his drink. He is dirty and disheveled, no different than a hundred other drunkards in a hundred other taverns, but no amount of dirt and ragged clothing can disguise the sharp, penetrating gaze of a knight. That gaze measures her in an instant and dismisses her just as quickly. If the human and the Elken are working together, her options are limited. If they aren't....well, if they aren't, then she would do what she does best. She is, after all, an agent of Balance.

 

It's time to tip the balance back in her favor.

 

[OOC] I hate writing in present tense :P

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[OOC] I hate writing in present tense :P

 

[OOC] Once upon a time.... ;-)

 

[iC]

The Elken swirls it's drink in the goblet and takes another sip. Even with the eyes covered it's body posture still appears relaxed, nonchalant. A trained eye however, might wonder if it's left hand - below the table and out of sight- might be on the pommel of a weapon. Again some of the strange drink dribbles down the mask going up in a puff of opalescent mist a moment later.

 

Either Coin imagined the gesture towards her, or the Elken is quietly waiting.

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A deep red flash of phantasmal light was seen through the windows. It perched itself upon a headstone in the nearby cemetery. Hauntingly beautiful notes were heard, all who staffed the graveyard knew that sound. A Crow was taking a vessel, the dark red colour made it obvious that this was a Chaotic happening. A young man plowed through the crowds and read the engraving on the headstone:

 

                                                                          Vethryl, Assassin, Templar, Agent of Chaos

 

The Crow, Vaeryx, knew Vethryl would be a good vessel, feared by many, respected by others. She knew Zalena would be pleased. Other bodies she'd possessed weren't as... Adequate, the Fae, Kaeari especially. She'd never make the mistake of taking a living body again.

 

Vaeryx's transfer was complete, the townspeople backed way as the red-haired woman once known as the assassin Vethryl rose from her grave. She spoke only six words in an voice so loud, the mountainous Rangers heard. "Where is the Agent of Balance?"

 

[OOC]: I don't know why but I really like developing lesser side stories that intertwine with the main story. In this post (In case you don't understand) Zalena sent the Crow, Vaeryx, to seek out the Agent of Balance, Coin. I don't have plans but I will try to work my way into what's already here.

                 ​                        

                                                             ​                       

Edited by Vaeryx
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((Fantastic!))

 

From within the crowd of villagers, emerges an old man, his robes trailing along the ground. He has shoulder length grey hair, and a short beard of the same colour. Despite his obvious age, he stands with a straight back and meets the red-haired Crow's eyes with a firm gaze. "Infynis Shalmoore, servant of Gaea," he says in a low pitched, authoritative voice. "I'd be happy to hear what brings you here, but something tells me I'm not the one you're looking for. Perhaps I can help you find them? I've been serving as this towns priest since the spring, and know it quite well."

SR8DSig_Infynis.png

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[OOC] Absolutely jump in guys! The more people, the more fun it is :)

 

 

[iC]

At the flash of light and phantasmal music from outside the Elken's ears twitched. Beneath the mask it grinned - or what passes for a grin on an Elken anyhow. It swirled the goblet once more, drained it, briefly spattering enough on it's chest to actually see the screaming souls in the liquid, and stood. With a deft motion it flipped a coin across the room and over Coin's head to the barman. Who incidentally, had never even noticed the stalker, much less served it a drink.

 

Leaving the goblet on the table, the stalker strode outside. It leaned casually on the cold wrought iron fence of the graveyard, and watched as the young man doubled over backwards in fear of the rising corpse. It grinned again beneath the mask as the poor boy tried to reconcile his terror with the beauty of the woman rising from the earth. When the priest emerged from the crowd the Elken's ear turned almost imperceptibly, listening to the conversation. It's left hand again moving slowly and smoothly to the pommel of a dagger at it's waist.

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Vethryl reveled in the intimidation she had brought upon the people. She saw the old man towards her, he spoke and she laughed quite loudly.

 

"You ​think you can help ​me? ​Bring me to the nearest pub, I have longed for a good drink, then, we may talk." She said begrudgingly.

 

She made it clear that she had much experience with weapons in case anyone thought of killing her. She pulled back her cape from the side of her thighs. She had knives strapped to the sides of her leather armour as well as a very frightening polearm and a pistol, who knew what else she had hidden. Although formidable, Imperial Templar weapons had an aesthetic focus and were often made with an Elvish, swirly look, looks were more important that functionality to high ranking Imperials, perhaps it could be used against her if any problems should arise.

 

  ​ ​

Edited by Vaeryx
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[iC]

 

The Elken sighed into the mask. This new Crow was putting on quite a show. Surely by now these people had encountered other Crows, but, perhaps not like this. Her sudden public appearance was going to make things more difficult. He withdrew his hand from the dagger, and using the crowd as a distraction ducked down under the cobblestone portion of the graveyard fence. Out of sight, he silently crept around to the back of the graveyard, where a small form wrapped in linens was hidden under an old log. Quietly as he could, he heaved the log aside and lowered it to the ground.

 

"Time to come out High King Jaedan," whispered the stalker, as he withdrew a shadowy shifting form from a pouch beside the dagger. 

 

"There is a another Crow here. I suspect an agent of the gods of Chaos. Your favorite prey. This time though, you will only listen. The vessel I grant you is weak, a victim of the shivering fever. It will last an hour, no more. Do not think to strike at her, this body will not reflect your skills well. Wait for her to come into the tavern, and listen well to what that boisterous woman says. I want to know every word. Now go my thrall! While she is still distracted."

 

Somewhere behind the eyes of a nondescript young man, the mind of an ancient king stirred. Admiration, and hatred for it's master warred in equal measure. But the Crow's commands were absolute. This creature that had killed him, had used his body to betray his entire life's works could no more be disobeyed than the sun extinguished.

 

The boy, barely more than seventeen threaded his way through the crowd. Cautious not to make eye contact with the old priest or the recently resurrected assassin. Inside, he ordered a drink and sat at a quiet table where it would be easy to hear the conversations in the pub. He coughed and bowed his head. Already the fever was rekindling in this body, a bead of sweat ran down his brow and he wondered, was it fever or rage that heated this body? His master was killing two birds with one stone. A spy, and a plague bringer. What could this town have possibly done to attract so many Crows? Or worse, to have tipped the balance enough for his master to do more than watch?

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"As you wish, my lady," the aged priest responded, a hint of a smile crossing his lips. "It is a priest's duty to help those in need." He turned away from her, causing the scabbard of a curved sword to become visible from underneath the outer layer of his robes as they spun about him. Setting his pace at a leisurely stroll, the priest exited the graveyard, and entered the town.

 

Despite the late hour, a vast majority of the homes and shops had candles lit, or torches burning, presumably due to the townspeople's curiosity towards the new crow. "This is my chapel if you'd ever like to pay me a visit," the old man said over his shoulder to the beautiful woman as they walked past the steepled building, its windows illuminated by flickering blue light. "I'm afraid you'll have to leave your weapons at the door however. The war of the gods has no place within." He continued to walk down the dirt road, leading on his feminine companion. "Ah, and here we have the tavern," he said, pushing open the building's wooden door, and allowing its light to spill upon himself and the lady. "Finest -and only- drinking establishment in town." He stepped to and then sat at a vacant table, motioning for her to join him. "Two of the good stuff," the priest spoke to the barkeep.

 

"Yessir, I-I mean father, o'minute please."

Edited by Infynis

SR8DSig_Infynis.png

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The woman followed him through the town, she noted that in order to enter the chapel, she'd have to have no defense, a good way to get ambushed. While she was good with a weapon, she hated hand to hand combat and would do anything to avoid it.

 

She entered the bar and sat. Hands ready to spring to her weapons at any time. She asked, "What's the good stuff?"

 

Looking around the rowdy commotion she noticed an Elken, on just as high of a guard as she, standing outside with a boy, she recognized him but at the same time didn't. She remembered him reading the vessel's name. As well Guinecean near the front of the bar.

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Jaedan unaware that he had been spotted, drank the bitter ale he had purchased and brooded. Again, he coughed and wiped the sweat from his brow. He listened carefully to the conversations surrounding him in the pub. Nothing sounded out of the ordinary. A large greasy man was bragging about his exploits with the ladyfolk of the town, a couple farmers were discussing the weather and their crops, a few of the locals were staring at the priest and whispering (albeit not quite quietly enough) how sad it was that Gaea no longer seemed to answer their prayers. A middle aged man heard something the braggart was saying and jumped at him, striking him in the face. "That's my wife you scoundrel!" 

 

This was a scene Jaedan had seen on many worlds and in many a tavern. None of the conversations seemed the least bit out of the ordinary. He clumsily dodged a beer stein that went flying across the room from the brawl that was starting on the other side and grimaced. The Crow had not lied to him, this vessel would be worthless in combat, even with his skill. People here weren't particularly on edge, though perhaps if they knew better what the crows were, they would be. 

 

Despite this, there were a few in the room that stood out. The woman he had been sent to watch was obviously expecting, and ready for a fight. He tried to repress a smile wondering how she would react to the ensuing brawl. And soon, he would find out - another mug went flying across the room in her direction. Meanwhile, the priest seemed entirely too calm in the company of someone so obviously dangerous. He almost missed the genucian, whiskers twitching, and ears at full alert. She looked quite nervous indeed, almost as if about to dart out of the door. He wondered if it were the brawl, or the mysterious woman that worried the small creature so.

 

His musings were interrupted by half a leg of lamb impacting with his face. The brawl was escalating, he wiped the greasy lamb remnants from himself and ducked under the table trying to stay out of the way...

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"That would be some of the good stuff there," The priest informed his twitchy lady friend, gesturing to a mug of liquor as it flew by their table. "Finest Tyranthian brandy you'll ever taste, assuming there's any that isn't already stirring up a brawl, or soaking into the floorboards. These mortals do seem to be rather liberal with their interpretations of my tenets." The old man grimaced slightly, watching the brawl unfold. Liberally indeed. Though that same mindset does apply to their offerings, so I suppose I shouldn't complain. "And here they are," he said, nodding to the barkeep who had managed to wind his way around the maelstrom of fists and airborne stools. "Through drought or Hunger, you can always count on Morne to get you your drink."

 

"Thank ye for the complement father. Here ya are, two mugs o' brandy." He placed the two mugs on the table, ducking a flying boot as he did so.

 

"Thank you my son," Infynis replied, pulling two gold coins from somewhere within his robes. "Here is your payment, deserved in full."

 

The man looked at the two coins for a moment, frozen and mouth agape. A bit of pork hit him in the back of the head. "Father..." he finally said, "I can'ot accept this. The brandy 'sonly worf four coppers."

 

"Then take it for the damages. At this rate I'm afraid you will be needing new tables in addition to the stools." The mortal stood with his mouth open a moment longer, and then returned to his station, muttering an awed 'Thank you.' as he went.

 

"Now, where were we," asked the affluent priest of his drinking partner, taking a pull from his mug. "If it's an agent of Balance you're looking for, and you haven't come to hear me preach about the Hunger, this would be the best place to look for her. I'm afraid I'll have to ask your purpose here before I can help you however. I don't want to get The Church's hands stuck where they don't belong." As he mentioned the agent of Balance, his eyes flicked towards the bar and back. The motion was almost imperceptible, but to someone on high alert, it might have been as simple to see as it was to hunt down a herd of wild pack-pigs.

Edited by Infynis

SR8DSig_Infynis.png

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The woman witnessed the act of generousity, she'd never have done such a thing, let the poor be poor and the rich be rich but alas, this priest did not have the same priorities as Vethryl. She took a sip and shuddered, she expected alcohol but not this strong. She drank it anyway, perhaps she needed to be drunk in order to loosen up a bit, she couldn't have a "normal" comversation on such high a-

 

What was that? What could he be doing, was it a signal? That was very odd. She followed the priests eye movement to the Guinecean. She looked at him with a very puzzled look.

 

"What is your name, old man?"

 

A new thought creeped into her mind, could this man have rivals, was he on guard as well? Maybe she'd have to protect him if he were att-

 

A mug flew at them, spilling their brandy. Even though it was strong, Vethryl liked it. She was furious. She quickly tracked down the man who had flung it, he was a regular here, short, fat, everything about him made him seem like a drunked idiot, even the boisterous, loud way he talked, completely disregarding everyone else. In response to the mug she flung a sharp dagger across the room,langing in the wooden wall, millimetres away from his ear. "Don't you dare throw anything else or the next knife doesn't miss." The bar fell silent. She stared sharply at him until he backed down.

 

"Anyway, what were we talking about?" She said like as if nothing ever happened.

Edited by Vaeryx
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The priest laughed as the fat man nearly fell out of his chair in terror. What was his name again?...Well, no matter. "I wouldn't provoke her if I were you," the old man called across the room. "The lady seems quite capable of making good on her threat." He smiled as he spoke, but the bar's patrons seemed even quieter than before, if that was even possible. Something about what the priest had said, or perhaps how he said it, had brought a chill into the tavern, and it seemed as though all within felt it. All except the guinecean at the bar, and a sallow boy hiding under a table who might not even have been paying attention. "Now make some noise!" the priest exclaimed to the room at large. "I have a conversation in the making, and I don't think you all need to hear it." The townsfolk began talking among themselves again, albeit awkwardly and with obviously forced laughter. Several men got up and left.

 

As Mourne came over to replace their drinks, escaping quickly after setting them down, perhaps out of fear of the assassin, or fear that the old man would try to pay him again, the priest returned his gaze to his companion. "As I said before, I am Infynis Shalmoore. I am a priest of The Hunger, and a servant of the Fallen Goddess. I believe you were about to tell me why you were looking for an agent of Balance. We're an awfully boring bunch miss; hardly kill anyone at all." He smiled at her, but it didn't reach his eyes. He had clearly decided it was time to talk business.

 

 

((Oops! I realized I wrote Order instead of balance in my last post. I've now edited it to make it make sense.))

SR8DSig_Infynis.png

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As the Brawl died down and the patrons nervously went back about their business, Jaedan pulled himself up from under the table. Even that took effort. This body that had died of the fever once was already starting to again. To his surprise, the little left of his drink had not been spilled in the commotion. Then he heard the words " I am a priest of The Hunger," and promptly choked on his drink. Sputtering and gasping for breath he looked in disbelief at the old priest. The old man was a follower of one of the gods of balance AND a priest of the hunger? That which desecrated the works of The All Father and rent His plans asunder? Too late, he realized his shock had given him away, and face red, eyes bulging he tried to play it off.

 

"Sorry, inhaled it." He said to no one in particular and pounded his chest to loosen his airway.

 

Meanwhile, the stalker stood outside leaning on the side of the pub. Ears twitching with each new noise. Had that idiot attacked after all? What had happened in there? Then it went quiet and he relaxed with a snort. Either way, it was over now. The vessel didn't need to be alive for him to question the thrall. Lifting just the edge of the cloth mask he produced a pipe from his pouch and lit it with a snap of his fingers. He breathed in deep and then exhaled a cloud with a sigh. In this vessel, that spark was about all the fire magic he could manage. Not for the first time, the peculiarities of different bodies struck him. In most he could light the entire pub on fire with a gaze if he wanted to. He took another puff off the pipe, and waited.

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