During the week...
Crystal is walking around with her newest 'Lord', a minor nobleman with grand ambitions and low intelligence. All 'did up', she dazzles in her jewels, makeup, and dress, flashing her pearly whites in dazzling smiles as she remains locked to her partner's offered arm. As they drift around the room, sharing pleasantries, she notes an older man talking religious doctrine to a small crowd.
She expertly drifts her companion over to the crowd, nodding in greeting to the assembled and the old man. "Dear Victor! Such a pleasure to run into you here. I was just about to tell Lord Gunthal here about your fine work involving anatomy you have been performing. He has been such wonderful company this evening, I was wondering if we could perhaps tour your facilities? I know I would enjoy most greatly if Lord Gunthal got an up close and personal demonstration of your...ambitious research. He is SUCH a patron of the sciences. Then, once we're done with that, we might all three enjoy a bit of time in front of the fire?" Crystal grins at Gunthal, then Victor, blood-red lips pulled back in a feral smile that only a sheep would not recognize as a predator's snarl before the kill.
Victor is flanked by four male speech managers, sleazy brothers that relates whatever Victor says with a honey-like voice.
Victor and his little posse of sycophants makes their way towards the town square, positioning themselves in the midst. Victor, having prepared for most issues, places himself upon a crate that was brought with them. Standing there, he gives the crowd his most pleasant smile before opening the speech by clearing his throat loudly. His words are echoed by his paid hirelings;
“Brothers, sisters and fellow kinsmen of this proud township! A great deal of you may know me as friend or a benefactor, but today my deeds pale in contrast to the deeds of a group from our own city!”
“We can all once more rest easily in our beds and relish in the fruits of our toil. For today a great plot, a plot that will shudder your very foundation to the core, has been foiled! This vile plot has been ruined by a small band of valiant locals, citizens that without concern for their own personal health threw themselves at their foes, nay, not their foes; the foes of this city and the common good of our existence. Those who would deny us the bread in our mouth and the clothing on our bodies; a corrupt cult of Asmodeous, so foul that they did not even adhere to the verdicts of their dark deity.”
At this phrase, he lifts up the red pentagram of Asmodeous, lifting it up into the air as the ultimate proof of their deed.
“Demons, devils and gibbering cultists alike would have marched against us in such great numbers that we would have been overwhelmed in our sleep. We would only wake up to draw our final breath, wake up as they cut us to pieces! Instead, four individuals of great renown and fine breeding has saved us and preserved the ideals of our town! They stood in the face of opposition, of evil, and they said “no”. Not only with word but also with deed.”
“To celebrate these heroes, these towering monuments of great ideals and thoughts, I have paid every inn in town and you will all be provided with ample amounts of ale. Revel, make merry and celebrate: Crystal Shalhoume, Sarcon the Brave, Victoria Fate and at last; our favorite physician, has saved us all."
“If you see these champions of good, do me a favor and give them a merry cheer. Now, fellow citizens, spread the news and let all know that you are once more safe due to these proud men and female’s deeds!”
His throat, having grown somewhat hoarse rests for a moment as he spots Crystal and her newest piece of pray in the crowd, he grasps the chance to further his plan. “Behold! One of the heroes has deigned to visit us! Let your joy be known for her.”
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Sarcon spends the first part of his week returning to the village and digging out the Statue to take it home with him, arranging it and the table in the same positions in his dining room.
Thinking upon the first part of his mission, Sarcon hies a few (4) laborers to help with the excavation of the statue. How ever he also gives the location of the village to his "cousins" with instructions to "meet" them on the way back to town.
Crystal's eyes widen at the sudden scrutiny of the crowd, but she is so shameless in her attention-seeking that she almost immediately starts to wave, pretty smile on display for all to see. What they see is a lovely maiden in white, blond haired and blue eyed, surely a paragon of goodness.
"Indeed, my friends! Victor here is far too humble, as he too, shared in our glory as we routed the sinners from their conspiracies against this fair city! Let it be known that henceforth this City shall never again need fear such things as long as we five draw breath!"
She turns slowly, waving at the small crowd, giving blessings when asked and speaking a few kind words to those who wish to converse. She is simultaneously revolted and attracted to the crowd of people, loving the spotlight, yet hating the very weakness these people represented. Oh yes, these sheep would know the iron fist of rulership all too soon.
Victor’s mouth widens into a large, understanding smirk as some of the attention is directed back towards him. He raises a indolent hand to receive their approvals and ovations, doing his best to be the very picture of an benevolent grandfather.
“Miss Shalhoume is too modest for her own good, I had very little hand in this whole affair. But she does speak true, we will do our very best to ensure that no further harm comes upon you good upstanding citizens again. While the militia has been doing an excellent job, we have decided that it is time that our self-serving leadership is replaced. As thus, we intend to banish the creatures that hide in the Keep and ultimately cleanse it entirely, which would allow the true leader to take his /or/ her rightful place.”
-Posted with Wayfinder
-Posted with Wayfinder
Edit: If only we were healed by negative energy. That would remove our entire healing issue. Now, if only we could enter a state where that happened.
Victor rests wearily at his desk, overlooking the mass of pergament, spilled ink and the latest selection of answered funeral requests. He sits back lazily and grabs yet another pile of papers and opening his spell book, looking up some of the less used spells before he proceeds to scribble untold lines on his paper.
At the very start of the weekend, Victor gathers his finished five scrolls and sets out to locate the others. Placing his newly crafted items in his a safe compartment of his satchel and proceeds to the Keep's gate where he rests against the cold stone wall, awaiting the arrival of his compatriots. A shadowy figure, wearing the full garments of a common peasants stands drooling five meters away.
Victor holds up his hand and shields his eyes with it as he gazes upwards towards the lightening sky, the hour was drawing closer to six and yet none of his compatriots had drawn near. His eyes could not help but to draw towards his quiet rotting slave nor could he help but chuckle slightly at some of the glances the packed up figure had received.
"Where are they?!"
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As the sun had put its gaze on the world, so had Marcello done with the Keep. He had been around the keep once now, noting how many entrances there was, checking for anything that could tribute to the help of finding the most safe entry point. His gaze had also fallen on anyone that would try and gain entrance themselves... He needed to know how many else would be a liability in there.
As he was taking his second walk around the keep, Marcello tried to recall what his orders had been exactly. They had been vague, but that was how it was for all who wanted to reach their place in the Order of the Nail. His direct order had been to quell savages and ensure that law will prevail... And owning the Keep would be the first step on the long path to controlling everything. Of course, he would have the help of the capable folk here, but he had not had the pleasure of meeting them yet.
And at the entrance, Marcello did indeed find something that caught his gaze. There, standing at it with impatience pouring out of every part of him stood an elderly man with a... Hunchback standing in front of him?
*That man... Didn't I see him in the town square at my arrival?*
Stopping a solid 20 feet from the man, Marcello stopped and decided to make his stay there, waiting for the group of fellow believers of the Order. They would arrive any time. In the meantime, Marcello could try and remember if that man really was the speaker.
Victor doesn't seem to pay any attention to the blood and merrily shakes Sarcon's hand. He subtly gives an inclination towards the towering warrior nearby, trying to catch Sarcon's attention with the act.
"Not for too long, Sarc. Did you bring the required equipment for our... act?"
He draws a handkerchief from his coat; wiping off the small blood traces that was still on the half-orc's hand. Wanting to ensure a firm understanding of his gesures he attempts to mimic; "Someone... behind... us."
Crystal arrives after the others, her hair not in its customary adventuring ponytail. Instead it is loose, the light blond tresses flowing around her fair face in the cool morning breeze. Her garments are changed, as well. Gone are vestments of the devil god, replaced by a pure white blouse (worn over her breastplate, of course) and a white skirt with white leggings underneath.
They had advertised their intention to the City, and she made her way to the Keep slowly, making sure all knew who was going to finally cleanse the structure and rule once more. She waves to passersby, smiling radiantly in the early morning sun, quite exultant, cutting quite a figure astride her mount as she slowly cantered towards the looming structure.
Arriving, she finds Victor and Sarcon already waiting, along with a stranger. Appraising him, she grins. A Hellknight! Could fortune smile any brighter upon her? And comely, as well.
"Who's the handsome stranger? I fear Doc won't be able to join us. After we...discussed our differences I am afraid he was in no state to adventure. Victor is looking after him, at my request." She dismounts in a flurry of white, giving her pack another look to make sure she has everything she needs.
Victor's smile lights up several degrees at Crystal's commentary; "The "handsome" stranger has yet to join us in our little conversation. Something I wish to redeem at once." He turns towards the towering base of a man and waves him over. "Gentleman, would you be so kind as to join us in our circle?"
Without awaiting the actions of the man, he turns towards Crystal and adds quietly: "I fear that the Doctor is going to be asleep for a while. His condition has taken a drastic turn recently."
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Not trying to hide his pressence at all, Marcello would keep his relaxed position up as there was no reason to go into any kind of intimidation contest... No reason to draw attention to himself, yet.
The arrival of the Half-Orc made him go a bit more stiff in his stance, but he quickly got his composure back and went back to remembering the name of the man. *Victor! Victor... Ravengrow? No... Ravenport! That was the name of the guy everyone have been talking about* An almost invisible nod happened as Marcello congratulated himself for remembering.
His thoughts did go slightly astray at the arrival of the woman. She was certainly sure of herself and knew how to show it. His thoughts went back to the Keep in itself and would probably stay at that if it wasn't for Victor breaking his line of thought.
His brows furrowed slightly, then he nodded and walked into the small group of people, keeping an arms distance from the drooling peasant. "Good Morning..." His voice gave clear hints of his slight surprise of being pulled into this conversation and of his Chelixian heritage.
"Another Fateful morning!" Fate charges onto the scene. She turns to Marcello, pointing at him with a dramatic flourish of her red hooded cape. "Declare yourself! Friend or foe? The Fate you receive shall depend on your answer."
Victor takes a heavy draw from mug of steaming coffee, trying innerly to strangle an outburst of laughter as he lets the re-quickning liquid flow down his throat, feelings its refreshing effect upon his body. He seems as if he remains quiet but finally, after letting the fallout after Fate's dramatic introduction, he does deign to mutter: "Sarcon, Fate. Your behavior is going to be the death of me one day."
Fate chuckles. "Under such circumstances, vould you prefer ve bring you back vith raise dead or create undead?"
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Marcello looked at the jerky with nothing, but blunt surprise. He had no idea how to react to the action, but nodded quickly and grabbed the jerky. "I will save it for a time where I can enjoy the taste" He stuffed it into the belt pouch on his side and tried, unsuccessfully, to wipe the greasy feeling the jerky had left in his hand, off on his trousers.
He took a closer look at the half-orc, trying to find out what he was for a person, but his attention quickly got ripped away when the red cloaked character charged up to the group and shouted the challenge. His brow seemed to have taken a permanent curve of surprise as he started to talk "My name is Marcello Wintrish." He took a small pause to see if any of them had heard of the name. Not really caring with their reactions he decides to continue.
"I was sent here by the Order of the Nail on an order to help quell the savagery of the land. The order was given with the promise of a group of likeminded people." He stopped again to make a look that could be meant as That-Would-Be-You, before he continued: "Therefore I have arrived here to offer you my blade to cut down the savages..." Marcello was not as seasoned a speaker as others, but he spoke with an intensity that came from years of harsh training. His eyes focused on the finger from the hoodded figure. "Does that mark me as a friend or foe?" His arched fell down from constant surprise to simple interest.
Fate circles Marcello, looking him over. Her steel boots against the ground mark out a steady beat. "The subjugation of savages is a vorthy task. You vould much agree vith our other devil-vorshipper, Miss Shalhoume."
She stops in front of Marcello, her index finger resting on the chin of her mask. "Fate thinks you are as much an ally as any other here. She looks forward to vorking vith you. You can never have enough brutes."
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Marcello offerd a sturdy nod to Fate as he listened to her judging him. "Then I take it you are Fate?" An almost invisble smile played on his lips before it fell back in the humorless mask it was so used to be in.
After taking the compliment, (insult in disguise, how would he know?), he looked at the woman who had caught his eyes earlier. His head cocked slightly before he smiled, "And I take it you are Miss Shalhoume, what is it that makes you a devil-worshipper?" His words would be a bit more touched by his accent as he spoke to her and he did a small nod as a sign of respect toward her.
Following that introduction he would turn his stare toward the jerky-offering half-orc. "I don't think I have had the pleasure... Sarcon was it?" he made a quick gesture towards Victor when he had heard him mutter under his breath and seeing as Fate was the one with the mask, then the half-orc must be the other name.
Ending the rounds of questions and introduction at the elder. "And you are Victor Ravenport... The great speaker I heard when I came into town... Quite the speech you delivered" Again, his accent took on a more solid sound as he spoke with another Chelixian.
"Create Undead, of course. Don't be silly, Fate. Preferably a ghoul or ghost.
Victor's smile was less than invisible as he extended a feeble, shuddering hand towards the warrior, giving him a glare that seemed to indicate that only one course of action would be acceptable in this case. A pleased grimace flickers over his face for a mere moment before it returns to the pained expression that you can often observe on those tired of existence and the hardships of life.
His whole composure otherwise seems to be very guarded and his eyes seems to shift frantically back and forth on the street, as if he is almost expecting the arrival of rivals or opposers, he does however snap back to attention when his name comes up in the conversation and his teeth filled smile returns faster than you could expect from one with such a behavior such as his.
"A pardon, of course I realize that officials from the honorable and grand Order of the Nail doesn't beneath themselves with such, but for future record, my name is Victor Von Ravenport. Now, and this question might appear.... shocking for you, however, I am required to inquire upon your preferred undead form in the case of.... lethal ends should be met.
Don't think this is an unique question either, all of these that you see around me has been asked the same and their preferred form has been noted down in the case of their untimely death. You can of course vouch not to receive such services, however, we are not entirely capable of getting access to the more mundane manner of resurrection." Without further regard, his right hand guides itself down into a conveniently placed traveling satchel that hangs from his shoulder and he fishes up a small, black leather-bound book and sufficient writing materials, giving Wintrish an expecting glare after having done so.
Crystal gives the newcomer and Sarcon an amused grin as the half-orc offers the man jerky. There were quite a few creatures that jerky would have come from, and Crystal snickers as she envisions some of the more...intelligent options for the meat.
The Order of the Nail! This couldn't be much better! She cuts a glare at Fate, correcting her. "I worship the Prince of Darkness, my dear Marcello, who is one of the creators of the multiverse, not a mere devil." She then turns to face the man, appraising him. "As far as friend, we shall see. Your worth in this endeavor will tell us much, methinks."
Crystal will nod along with Fate's analysis, though still a bit miffed at the woman. Here was another custom-made brute to place between herself and danger, and likely more predictable than the brutal half-orc. Fate must have smiled upon us. She grins wickedly at her thought, strapping her shield to her back on top of her pack, slinging her bow over her shoulder.
"I am ready whenever the rest of you are."
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Marcello would grab the hand offered from Victor and give it a small shake, his hand practically envelopping the the frail hand of the older man, and he knew that if he just pressed a bit harder, a loud crack would be heard by the others, so he was very careful with not cracking the fingers.
The question did break his composure. Had he just heard right? Did this man really ask him how he wanted to return from the dead? Maybe this was just something he had imagined.
Answering carefully, his voice would be guarded, like it was a trap question, "I would not be able to name any undeads... But my choice would fall on something with its own will and able to continue the crusade against savagry, even beyond the grave." Trying to lock eyes with Victor he tried to see if he really did mean that question.
Listening to Crystal's explanation of her belief, Marcello could not keep the small grin of his face. Following her response to him he quickly say "Followers of Asmodeus are few and far between if not in the right place... I'm happy to have found another". His grin had taken on a more knowing smile as he meassured her with new eyes. *A cleric of Asmodeus... How lucky can I be?*
Stepping out of her way and taking up a position as guard, he would make a gesture with the hand. "I'm ready to follow you, so lead on"
Crystal has to avert her gaze, lest she go into a giggle-fit. Cow, faerie dragon, or peoples, the odds were even on all three. With his new-found grill, Sarcon had surely been busy experimenting, performing his usual science of trial and error.
Controlling herself, she smiles and nods to the newcomer, looking to the entrance to the keep, then to his person, suggesting he lead the way. Who better to be the target of traps, or rather, the point man, than the new kid on the block. He surely was a welcome sight, though. Hopefully nothing would injure his face too badly.
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Marcello grabbed the jerky "of friendship", study at it carefully as if he expected it to start biting his hand and then takes a bite from it. The salty taste of the jerky did overpower mostly any other taste, but there was something about the entire taste that made him want to spit it out, something he just couldn't quite place his finger on...
But he didn't spit it out. After he had swallowed the first bite, he looked at Sarcon. "The taste is like... No other jerky taste like this." He decided not to elaborate further on it and started walking toward the entrance of the keep. Marcello had seen the look Crystal had sent his way and could understand the logic behind it... It was either going to be Marcello or Sarcon to take point, in case of cowardly traps. So he started walking to the Keep while eating the jerky... "Of friendship."
The party meets in front of the Finders' Keep, central stronghold and long-abandoned fortress of the City. Legends swirl around the Keep like smoke from a censer, but all anyone really knows is that since the death of the last king, no one who enters the Keep returns. In spite of the apparent danger it may possess however, due to its central location in the City, it has become a common area for foot traffic by merchants and vagrants alike. Though while the party all catches up and make some new introductions, it becomes apparent that another small group nearby is not simply passing through, nor apparently selling anything or begging. Rather, due to their mismatched nature and the presence of some weapons and armor, it seems more likely that they may, in fact, be adventurers themselves.
Crystal chuckles, brow furrowing in amusement as she views the other assembling party. Had they been sent more help? The handsome Chelish man had been enough good fortune for today. Another group to help augment their force? Surely nothing in the Keep could stand against them!
She looks to her companions, confident grin on her face. With the right words, perhaps she could even get this group to walk in front and bear the brunt of the traps that were sure to be here. She eyes the newcomer. "Friends of yours?"
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Looking over at the new group of people, Marcello spots the weapons and armor of the people. He had after all arrived as early as possible to the Keep to make sure he would know if anyone else had gone in.
Marcello doesn't share the same confidnt smile as Crystal. "Never seen them before in my life." The non-caring tone of his reply, also answered the following question of them being from the Order of the Nail. He made a gesture towards the rag-rag group of people. "Most likely, a group of adventurers... That is fairly common around here, no?" The question was innocent enough on it's own, but the way Marcello asked, implied that they might have competition in getting Keep under control.
Her grin fades at the warrior's comment. Her brow creases in irritation at the sight of the group, now. The Finder's Keep had remained empty for how long? And now, as they had announced they would, another group seeks entry? Preposterous! She whispers "Stay" to her mount, then starts to walk towards the other group, plastering a friendly smile on her face once more.
Crystal turns back around, her visage wrathful as she proceeds. "That one will wish for death." She promises quietly, her voice steely.
The grimace on Victor's face is rather that of dull bliss, as he replies with his usual raspy demeanor: "Now, now, dear. You will have plenty of time to amuse yourself with his body as soon as he has served his purpose. Let him enjoy his last moments of fresh air and life.
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Still standing a solid 10 feet from the drooling vilager, Marcello had decided to take a closer look at him. Noticing the small features on him, he couldn't help but see the skin, (or the lack thereof), the saliva running down his chin and the hunchback stance...
This was no ordinary villager... He was dead... Undead? That did shed some light over the nature of Victor's question... *Is this... Perhaps a former companion?* The thought send a chill down Marcello's spine. Who was to say that Victor would actually give him free will?
As the other returned to the undead villager and Crystal's mount, Marcello looked up at them with a clear question mark in his face. Nodding towards the other group as he asked:
"So? Do we fight them or do we ignore them?"
Her expression fierce, she swings her eyes to the newcomer. "Both."
Victor draws his hands into his coat and grips the pergament scroll, with a swift pull he holds it between his hands and takes a great moment to examine the writing and the pressed in signet seal. A flash of great amusement flashes over his eyes and mouth and he addresses both Crystal and Wintrish: "They didn't even check the document, as far as they could be concerned, it could be entirely empty."
He smacks his lips together, his eyes drifting back to the rest. "They have no love for us and we have even less for them. Let them venture boldly forth, let them throw themselves upon the waves and let them weaken and then... when they are bloodied. Sarcon and you can smash them to a bloody pulp."
"And don't forget Fate. I am sure she would like to contribute to the fall of those fools." She looks back, her gaze lingering on the other group for a few more moments.
"Are we just going to wait, then follow? Or find an alternate entrance? I fear that half-orc was too insightful."
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Marcello nodded at the one-word answer. Confused a bit by the complexity from the one word mattered very little, all he got out from it was that at some point, inside or outside of the keep, he would get to fight someone...
Shrugging the stiffness from his houlders away, he looked them over. Crystal seemed mad enough to kill someone, Victor was... Silent. By any account of what he had seen so far from him, that was not a good sign for anything, that much he had learnt from the short amount of time spent with him. They both seemed angered by the meeting with the other group of adventurers...
As Victor spoke up Marcello looked over at the other group. Listening to Victor, Marcello nodded without knowing. His body tensed a bit, as if preparing the muscles for use.
"Bloodied and desperate... Like the savages they are, we will destroy them."
His voice was low, but full of zeal for the battle against the savages. The Order of the Nail had pushed that so far into his head that Marcello was always prepared to strike savages down.
Blinking a bit at Crystal, Marcello smile slightly. Thinking back, he tried to remember if he had seen other useable entries for the keep as he had walked around it.
Victor shakes his head slowly; "I must strongly advice against going in by an alternative route, we risk facing opposition. If we merely follow behind them, we can wait for their weakness and then strike. That is far easier".
Fate nods at Crystal. "They vill cut themselves down at Fate's command as punishment for their insolence, vhen the time comes."
"They are leaving, and avoiding the Keep. The time is now." Crystal looks to Victor, the likely source of greatest resistance.
Victor waves his hands in front of himself; "Unless they are leaving to use our own tactic against us, however, with the pure amount of healing scrolls I have brought, it might not be an issue. Lead the way, your Ladyship. We take the Keep now!"