Anthony adds, "I can offer a blessing If we move them to the side of the road. Someone else should move the waking one. I'm... Not good with animals."
I know not if animals have souls, and it may have been necessary to kill them, but we should still pray for Erastil's pardon. "
------
If everyone moves the corpses to the side of the road, he kneels over the dead bodies and conjures up his best impression of one of Tabrik's prayers after a kill. He says, "We take no pleasure in this ending of a life, but we offer our gratitude for your bounty and protection.
Adrac frowns at the two dogs he can't help, before moving to pick up the remaining dog. As Davi places her blade to the beast's neck, his hand snaps up with striking speed, grasping the flat of the blade and holding in place tightly. For an old geezer, he had quite the physical skill.
"You have much to learn, child." he said calmly, before pushing the blade away and picking up the animal. "It may attack future travelers... or it may not. One cannot know until it happens. Better to save what life you can, and simply pray the best will come of it."
Adrac carried the dog over to a nearby bush, placing it safely into the foliage and reaching into his pouch, pulling out some rations and leaving it next to the beast. Once taken care of, he backs off and waves the rest of the group on. "Spare life where you can, when you can, young one." Adrac continues to walk alongside the wagon, though his eyes seem somewhat distant, and his expression... sad. "It is all you can do. It will rest easier on your spirit... I promise you that."
Once Anthony, Soroza, and Tarkus are back on the wagon, Laurel urges Summit onwards and the group is on the road once more. A few moments after the wagon gets moving, the bushes behind you rustle slightly as the dog Adrac spared rises and disappears into the wild Arthfell forest.
Soroza gave an exasperated sigh, and her frown had not faded.
"I respect the sentiment of your wisdom Gramps, and taking life is a gravity not lost on me, but when given a hard decision between blood on my hands I can take account for and taking a risk I cannot... Well, I prefer accountability."
She climbed back into the cart and sat herself, though her demeanor was miles away from the woman who'd gotten out of the cart minutes before.
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Watching the others load back on the wagon, or take their places walking next to it, Tarkus reflected that none felt good about killing the animals, himself included, but all save the older man felt that the ends justified the means. He meant what he said about honoring Adrac's wishes, but he also meant what he said that they may be allowing an unwitting predator to remain. While his coin purse was limited, Tarkus was confident that he could hire a worker at the inn to keep an eye out for the dog over the next few days and should the dog continue to be feral and hostile, to do what needed.
~As Torag gave us the gift of compassion, so too did he give us the strength of the stone in our resolve to see things through to the end.~
Feeling that the mood was a bit too somber heading to the inn though, Tarkus glanced over at Herral and raised the empty bottle of Grammie Whipple's cure for all that ails ya.
"I'm sure you meant to not almost kill me when you told me to take this for a headache, but I've taken softer blows to the head in full armed combat drills. What was in this stuff?"
After a moment's hesitation Davi cleans and sheaths her rapier. "I sure hope you're right" She walks back to Flower and holds on to the donckeys halter. As the group travels on she drifts to the back again. She appears to be lost in thought
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Thirty minutes of travel later, evening is drawing on as the party arrives at the Inn of the Wood.
"Ah, finally," Laurel says, relieved to rest in a safe place. Before you lies a well-built inn painted in cheerful colors tucked beneath the eaves of the forest. A stable stands nearby, and a pair of stable boys are at hard work attending to several mounts. More than one farm wagon sits in the yard, and Laurel pulls her cart up smoothly in-between two of them. One of the stable boys hurries over to Laurel to help her with Summit, and the other approaches Herral and Davi. When he is done, Laurel wordlessly tips him a few copper, bringing a bright smile to the child's face.
"Sir, Ma'am? May I help you with your animals?" the child asks, a boy barely 8 years of age, his clothes stained with mud and manure, eyes darting between the lady swashbuckler and halfling merchant.
A large red sign above the door proclaims in gilt letters, "Inn of the Wood". Above this sign and stretching across the front of the building is a banner with artistic lettering stating "The Traveling Exhibition of Doctor Phineus Krane, Professor of Antiquities, and Master of Shroud Artistry". A number of colorful tents have been set up at the rear of the inn yard, apparently for the exhibition.
~"The Traveling Exhibition of Doctor Phineus Krane, Professor of Antiquities, and Master of Shroud Artistry". What is a shroud artist? Does he paint faces on the wrappings? Is this a human custom that they are too embarrassed to admit to doing?~
Grabbing his pack and looking at the brightly colored tents, Tarkus glances at those he has shared the road with thus far. "Anyone up to a quick look around these tents before we go inside to see the show?
Adrac continues the walk, but unlike the others, seems to be in a slightly brighter mood. The prior encounter doesn't seem to dampen his spirits in the least, and on reaching the Inn, smiles at the sight of it.
"Ah, amazing how a good length of travel can make even the humblest place feel like a grand palace." he commented, pausing to take in the sight of the exhibition showing off this Phineus Krane. "...I feel like that name seems familiar, but I can't place the origin. Hehe, then again, perhaps my memory is simply failing me in my age. Either case, I should love to speak with him. I've always enjoyed a good conversation with scholars. They're a very colorful lot, and you always come away learning something... but first, dinner!"
At that, Adrac takes to the front door, offering to hold it open for Laurel.
Unfortunately, it appears that the exhibition is closing for the night. Several curators are securing the tents and locking up their wares in large trunks. Patrons of the exhibit are streaming from the yard, either dispersing to their homes or heading into the taproom for dinner and drinks.
Laurel offers Adrac a small smile as she accepts his help. Inside, business is brisk as the long shadows of evening slant through the taproom's open windows. A bald, red-faced man wearing an apron works behind the bar and several young girls carry platters of food and drinks to various tables. Most of the crowd seems to be local farmers and traveling merchants, although clustered around one table sits a rough-looking group of six mercenaries. They huddle over their drinks in quiet conversation, occasionally raising a head to eye the crowd.
At a table nearby, a bespectacled scholarly looking fellow discusses a piece of decorated linen spread across the tabletop with a small group of onlookers.
The inn contains a modest crowd, but there is a table with enough seats for all of you, given that you pull some empty chairs from nearby tables. As for Laurel, she heads straight for a barstool and flags the bartender down for a drink and some food.
~I keep forgetting that humans have to have more light to see their displays, unlike the black mushroom cavern that only could be seen in the total darkness.~
Walking up to the bespectacled man, Tarkus tried to listen in and get an understanding of what it was the man did, just in case it was worth adding to his letter back to Highhelm.
"Ale!" Soroza's expression returns to playful as she hops from the cart and follows the others inside.
"And perhaps someone pretty to share it with", she says with a smirk. She scans the crowd as she pulls a chair up to the available table. Her gaze slows as it comes to the group of mercenaries, and she keeps a suspicious eye on them as she states to the group, "Not to mention food. Gods, I feel fit to devour an entire farm. Traveling makes me hungry."
She chuckles, "Who am I kidding? Everything makes me hungry."
Davi smiles gently at the young stablehand. "That would lovely. This fine lady is named Flower. She would be very grateful for a rub down." Davi hoists her bags onto her shoulder and hands the boy some copper before heading inside.
As she heads to the table she takes the time to scan the inn's patrons. She picks out the mercenaries as the most likely source of trouble, and she approves of the suspicious look Soroza gives them. If she has to bash some heads together it would be good to have backup.
"Agreed. A long day on the road always makes me hungry. I hope Laurel's ordering for all of us"
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The shroud laid out on the table contains the negative image of a bearded man with an ornate crown on his head. The scholarly man holds an oil lantern over it to better illuminate the linen cloth for the crowd of curious onlookers.
”The subject of my exhibits here at the Inn of the Wood is a form of artistry called shrouding. By using certain reagents and magical properties, this art allows the image of a corpse or mummy to be captured orthographically-that is to say, with height, width, and depth – on the linen shroud in question. It was once a common technique among the burial practices of ancient Azlanti cultures, but has largely been lost today. The shroud in question here carries the image of the Chelish King Haliad III. It is over four hundred years old and is the centerpiece of my exhibition.”
Meanwhile, a pretty young human barmaid with braided blonde hair and green eyes hurries over to the rest of the group. Armed adventurers usually mean good coin, after all!
”Hello, my name is Sara! Can I help you find a seat, friends? Food? Drink? We have stout, mead, and bitters, and roasted lettuce, stewed whitefish, salted trout, soft cheese, and oat porridge cooking today.”
Soroza directs a wide, slightly mischievous smile towards the barmaid.
"You, my dear, are the answer to all my prayers. I'll have a plate of the trout, and some of the cheese to go with it. And..." Soroza adopts an exaggerated pose of thoughtfulness, then announces: "Mead! It is a mead night. I have decided."
The barmaid smiles flirtatiously at Soroza. "Desna smiles on both of us today!" After taking down any of the other party members' orders, she hurries off to the kitchen to alert the cooks and bartender.
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It’s a crowded Fireday evening in the bar, and the area is so used to local adventurers that no one gives your group a second look.
Laurel sits at the bar talking to a human man with a long blue cape and a wide-brimmed hat. At his side is an ornate longsword, with an engraved handle. It doesn’t seem like Laurel is going to order food for the group, despite her successful excursion to Oregent and Olfden.
The barkeeper is a bald, red-faced man and there are three serving girls, including Sara.
Gathered around the scholar who is presumably Doctor Phineus Kane are six humans: four women and two men. Of those, four appear to be common farmers from the nearby fields. One of the women is old and wrinkled, the other three are middle-aged. One of the men is dressed too nicely to be a farmer. He has straw-blonde hair and fine clothes.
At one table is a gnome with green hair and eyes. He is talking to a half-elf with matted bronze hair and soft brown eyes with modest garments and riding boots.
Finally, the table of mercenaries seats six people; two women and four men. Of the men, two are human, one is a dwarf, and one is a goblin. The first human man has long, greasy black hair and a goatee and wears all black, a scale mail and cloak. His belt has tiny skulls embossed upon it. He carries a greatsword and longbow. The other human man is middle-aged, balding, and very fat. He wears gold-trimmed robes covered in arcane symbols. The dwarf has an unkempt beard chopped short, and wears ugly, crude banded mail. Strangely for a dwarf, he carries an elven curved blade of far better make than his armor. The goblin has his hood up and keeps his head down, so it is hard to get a good look at him, but his huge ears and beady red eyes betray his race. Of the women, one is an aasimar, the other is human. The aasimar woman is beautiful, but skeletal thin. She wears her silvery hair long and loose. The other woman has brown eyes, brownish-blonde hair with golden highlights, and her skin is both deeply tanned and freckled. Her hair is neatly coiffed, and her tabard embossed with a sigil of a golden harpy over her left breast. She carries a whip and crossbow.
Davi puts in an order and sits back to wait. She looks over to the mercenaries again before heaving a long suffering sigh. To no one in particular she says "Do you ever feel like, as big as the world is, it's not big enough? I hope they have a good supply of stout on hand."
Soroza smiles in commiseration with Davi. "I may not know much, but I do know that there is never enough alcohol."
She pauses and looks thoughtful for a moment...
"I don't know that I actually caught your name." Soroza makes an over-the-top approximation of a bow, twirling her hand and tilting her head forward. "Soroza Alessio: recently minted wanderer and apparent nexus of calamitous happenstance, at your service."
Davi grins "Davi Accerlas. Adventurer and sufferer of calamitous happenstances. There's a woman over there that I call the 'Queen of Backhanded Compliments.' If she comes over I plan on faking my own death". She shifts in her chair so that her back is to the mercinaries.
"We might as well go around and do formal introductions. You're up my tall friend" She pats the hand of the young tiefling sitting next to her
Anthony orders a tankard of mead and the stewed whitefish without fuss.
After the two women make their official introductions...
The horned man didn't notice at first that he was being called upon. He hadn't noticed the disgust upon the aasimar's face and had simply been staring for a moment too long. She's so Beautiful, he thought, and nearly said it out loud. Instead he started murmuring something to that effect with his mouth half open like a codfish.
Another moment passed and he realized some members of his party were staring at him and he stammered, "Err, yes, I am Anthony Read. Pleased to meet your acquaintance, formally. I'm not particularly clever at inventing titles for myself, but I've been on the search for adventure for the last three years. My... Father, was... is James Read, a Wizard who used to be an adventurer. He fishes now. But, I suppose he is the reason I began this path." He takes a sip of the mead and slips back into staring at the silver-haired woman.
The shroud laid out on the table contains the negative image of a bearded man with an ornate crown on his head. The scholarly man holds an oil lantern over it to better illuminate the linen cloth for the crowd of curious onlookers.
”The subject of my exhibits here at the Inn of the Wood is a form of artistry called shrouding. By using certain reagents and magical properties, this art allows the image of a corpse or mummy to be captured orthographically-that is to say, with height, width, and depth – on the linen shroud in question. It was once a common technique among the burial practices of ancient Azlanti cultures, but has largely been lost today. The shroud in question here carries the image of the Chelish King Haliad III. It is over four hundred years old and is the centerpiece of my exhibition.”
Tarkus knew instantly he was out of his depths listening to the Professor talk, as he could see no benefit to this method of preserving the likeness of a deceased person. If they could not find the time to be painted on canvas, carved into stone as a statue, or pressed into metal in a casting while they were alive, were they really important enough to extract ghoulish images of them when deceased? What if the king had died of the pox or the rotting disease? Would the etching not reflect that as well?
~I will bring this up to Low Chief Ironfounderson, perhaps some in Highhelm would find this more useful than I do. Plus it will make for a better letter than the slaying of wild dogs.~
As Professor Krane reached for another item, Tarkus stepped away from the demonstration table and started towards the table where his road companions sat. He hoped they would not mind sharing his company for a bit longer and had almost reached them when his eyes caught sight of the table of mercenaries in the corner of the room.
~Derrak? Here? What dark moon do we travel under these days?~
Unsure if the Shunned had caught notice of him, the conversation seemed intense at their table, Tarkus sat down in one of the empty chairs at the table with the others.
"Would it be too forward to intrude a bit longer on your company? I promise not to snore during our meal tonight if it helps."
Looking around and wondering where the bar maiden was, Tarkus pressed on.
"I am Tarkus Shieldsplitter, son of Tarken Shieldsplitter and grandson of Delgus the Giant Bane, but right now, I am in dire need of a drink and something to eat."
Adrac smiles at the serving girl and leans back in his seat, allowing the others to speak. Anthony's seeming hesitation catches his attention, a faint flicker in his expression, before patting the table for Tarkus. "One can never have too much good company, my friend. I'll happily share it all the way to the Hollow, if need be."
Nodding politely to the serving girl, Adrac addressed her with a pleasant tone. "Adrac Rhaddyn, my dear lady. Recent grandfather." He beams proudly at that title before continuing. "A cup of boiling water, if you please, and... a sweet roll, I think. I doubt Irori will frown on a little indulgence for this occasion."
Adrac reached into his pocket, pulling out a small packet of something tied to a string and placing it on the table. "Had the pleasure of meeting a fellow all the way from the Dragon Empires. Purchased a packet of this tea from him, tried it, and managed buy the rest before we parted ways. Always try to get some when I can now."
Whether Adrac has noticed the table of strong arms is unclear, as he doesn't make much motion against them.
Back at the dog
"Master Adrac, 'preciate that dog can an' shud live but stop calling people child. I met plenty of "codgers" but I be given too much respect to belittle you. If'n we do as you ask you be understanding that when we get to the Inn, you should tell people to watch out for a feral dog. One that could snatch a child from a camp."
The halfling walks off to deal with his donkey, whistling as he pats the calm beast.
-----
On the road
"Zur dwarf Tarkus, you be slow to remember me words. I told 'ee that little sips be the key to easing yur moind, an' you dun suck 'aff the bottle doiwn. Tis a remedy. Shud be respected not treated like zider drink."
-----
At the Inn, Herral hands over the reins of Elsie to the stablehand and heads inside with Laurel.
He stays by her, since she knows her way around,and spends a while listens to her conversing with the man. The halfling studies the crowd, the mercenaries and Professor.
"Nice to meet youm, Zur. I be 'Erral, 'Erral 'Inn at service. Whom be you?"
Sara the barmaid hurries back with an enormous serving platter of food and drink that she carries with surprising ease considering her small frame. After passing the food and drink about and accepting payment with a big grin, she hurries off to attend to other patron's half-empty flagons. The half-elf in the corner in particular seems to have had one too many, but Sara isn't going to be the one to stop him!
Meanwhile the man sitting with Laurel nods at Herral. He looks him over once, his eyes pausing at his morningstar and shield strapped to his back. "My name is Cage Blunnde, Pleasure is all mine, I hope. I'm the sheriff in charge of this area. I was just talking to Laurel here about a hob corpse your lot found on the road, is that right?"
"Ah! A sheriff?" Adrac said, almost immediately on his feet and by Cage and Herral's sides. For an old guy, he was surprisingly swift. "Yes, we did. Thank you for finding him, Herral."
Adrac removed the dagger he'd found from his sash, presenting it to the sheriff and nodding. "We found this as well nearby the body. I presume this was the cause, but the fact it was not taken perplexes me. It has writing in Draconic on the hilt - I recognize the characters - but I'm afraid my Draconic is a tad rusty, so I can't read what it says."
The sheriff looks it over. "Hmmm, I've never gotten around to learning draconic myself."
Before the sheriff can continue, the human man in all black jumps up from the mercenary table and hustles over to Adrac, his travel-stained cloak billowing behind him. He takes a quick glance at Cage Blunnde, and so is careful to keep his hands away from the well-used pommels of the sword and dagger at his belt, but the look on his scarred face clearly shows a hostile intent as he thumps his fists down on the table.
"Now listen here old man, I killed that hob in a fair fight and that fiery dagger--" he points at the dagger. "That's mine by right! Hand it over or face the wrath of the Company of the Black Banner."
His companions push back their chairs from their table and rise to watch the situation closely. They too keep their hands away from their weapons. The previously noisy pub is suddenly quiet as all eyes are on Adrac and the mercenary.
Cage Blunnde steeples his fingers together and glances between Adrac and the man evenly. "Grelm Hammerlock. So you say you have claim on this weapon?"
"By the eye of the falcon, I do!"
Adrac blinks as this Grelm Hammerlock hustled over and started to raise a fuss about the dagger. As the rest of his group rise to apparently join the situation, Adrac stares between them, Grelm, and the dagger. "...did you now?" Adrac says brightly, his expression suddenly lighting up as he spoke with a smile. "Well, then, I suppose one this would be yours then, wouldn't it?"
Adrac brings the dagger around and flips it in his grasp, holding it by he blade as he hands the hilt to Grelm. But just before he's ready to grasp it, Adrac tugs it back and holds it up. His smile is gone, replaced by a stern, steely gaze as he speaks again, his tone considerably less pleasant. "But one thing does puzzle me. Grelm, was it? If you held such a desire for this blade, why is it I found it discarded in a bush near that poor hobgoblin's body, and not on your person?"
Adrac proffers the blade to Sheriff Blunnde once more, shaking his head. "No, it seems this would be in better care under proper authorities. Like the sheriff here. I suggest you return to your... Companions of the Bleek Boners, or whatever you fancy yourselves as. I, for my part, would like to return to my tea before it grows cold..." Adrac turns back to the sheriff, before perking up as if forgetting something. "Oh. One more thing... I prefer the term 'experienced', junior. Manners cost nothing, young man, so even you can afford them."
Soroza speaks quietly to the rest of the group at the table, "Gramps sure likes to cause plenty of trouble to make a point."
She doesn't like how this is going, and despite her desire to put Grelm in the place entitled oafs belong (namely the floor), she's smart enough not to agitate things by standing. She shifts forward in her seat, however, readying herself to rise if trouble necessitates it.
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While Adrac is speaking, the other members of the Company of the Black Banner circle around to stand in front of the party table, cutting them off from Adrac and Herral. Well, all except for the goblin, who stands next to Grelm.
Grelm's eyes narrow as Adrac continues, and his fist clenches when he purposefully mispronounces their group's name. As soon as his back is turned, he strikes, but is surprised when Adrac senses it coming and dodges anyway!
The goblin swings at Adrac as well, but misses wildly, striking a nearby farmer instead. "Why you little!" the drunken farmer slurs, punching the goblin squarely in the chin. The merchant standing next to him stands up, knocking his chair back and taking a swing at Herral, but falls over instead, right into another farmer who curses and socks him in the jaw.
The drunk half-elf man stands up, stumbling slightly with a crooked grin, and takes a swing at Grelm, catching him in the shoulder.
Meanwhile, the Company of the Black Banner has circled the rest of the group. The fat man grins lecherously at Soroza, standing next to Davi's old acquaintance, Aliciette. Aliciette sneers.
"Hello, Davi. I like your new hairstyle. It really helps slim your face. Can't say the same about the company you're keeping, though."
"I've got your back, Ali!" the fat man chortles, as Aliciette takes a swing at Davi, striking her right in the face and leaving a small red mark.
The aasimar woman stands in front of Anthony, just as tall as he is, staring down her nose at him.
"I understand your envy, demon-spawn. My pedigree is impeccable. Who did your mom f%&! to get an ugly mug like yours? A hezrou?" She takes a swing at Anthony, but the tiefling smoothly catches her by the wrist. She glowers at him, and pulls her hand away, repulsed.
Finally, the dwarf, Derrak, stands in front of Tarkus. "Well, well, well who do we have here?" The dwarf's voice is deep and gravely, and clearly has had one too many to drink. "Tarkus of the lost axe. Your old man still babbling about feats long past? I don't blame him, what has the Shieldsplitter family accomplished in the past two centuries, hmm?" He takes a swing at Tarkus, who blocks it just in time. Good thing too, he's somehow stronger than what Tarkus remembers.
And with that, the entire pub erupts into a mad brawl, as farmer drunkenly swings at farmer. Doctor Phineus hides under the table, and the bar maidens all flee to hide in the kitchens. Sheriff Blunnde backs away to lean against the wall, his hand firmly on the pommel of his longsword. His eyes are not on the Company of the Black Banner, but on your party, the newcomers, seemingly interested in how they react to this turn of events.
Laurel seems as nonplussed as ever, and turns her back to the melee to calmly eat her meal of trout and cabbage. Just another day in the Darkmoon Vale.
Soroza let's loose a while laugh, stands bolt upright from her chair, and brings her face inches to the fat man's.
"Do yourself a favor and scamper back into whatever pus-ridden pit you crawled out of before I have to illustrate, in great and painful detail, all of the mistakes you and your friends just made."
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Adrac leans back up as he bends almost impossibly low for someone his age, and back up nearly as fast, white strands barely keeping up. "And your temper needs discipline." He added, hands behind his back as if still politely engaging in conversation.
Eyes leering back to the others, Adrac sighs. "And your friends should really learn not to accost people who are trying to enjoy a well earned meal. Perhaps... a lesson is in order. For all of you."
Adrac brought a hand palm up and pointed it towards Grelm. "Very well. As the kids say... let's have a 'go' at it." His posture shifted into a very relaxed, yet tightly controlled stance, before waving Grelm forward with his extended palm and smirking. "Do not let base talk distract you!" he ordered to the others, offering them a lesson as well, with Anthony in particular getting his gaze. "Reacting to such distills your instincts! Do not let your mental defense detract from your physical!"
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The blow snaps Davi's head back. The changeling looks stunned for a few seconds, hands grabbing the edge of the table and her breathing heavy. She takes a few seconds to compose herself. Can't pound her into the ground. Can't dunk her head in the horse trough. Can't start a family feud. Gotta beat her at her own game.
Davi looks up at the woman who hit her. There is a fake, sugary smile plastered across her face. "Aliciette. How lovely to see you. I'm so glad your family found something useful for you to do. The violence though, that doesn't seem like your style now does it? If I remember correctly you told me how wonderful it was that I was training as a fighter, something about how I was built for combat instead of thinking, unlike you?"
Davi holds her hands out in front of her, claws extended. There's a look of exaggerated shock on her face. "Why, look at these! I bet you're right, these would be quite painful. If, say, I was trained like my monk friend over there I bet I could do a lot of damage to someone. But that would be such a shame...."
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The fat man wilts under the Chelaxian woman's hard stare. He turns and retreats from the room. Aliciette groans, and curses. "What the hell, Pudge, you coward!"
Aliciette's eyes flash from Davi's claws, to Adrac, back to the changeling's mismatched eyes. For a moment her gaze seems to pry right in Davi's soul before she withdraws with a grunt.
"Hmph! I guess that makes sense. Your mother left your father so they kept you as the family cat. Whatever. The Cardoso family has vaults full of daggers just like that one. I'm sure the Accerlas family could use the extra coin, though. My family taught me the value of charity."
She skulks back to her table and sits back down, arms crossed.
"Pudge! Aliciette, you stupid wench! You don't back down until I tell you to!" Grelm barks over his shoulder, while his goblin friend tussles with a farmer. He turns back to Adrac.
"I wasn't done with you, old man." He swings again, but Adrac effortlessly dodges him yet again.
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Adrac's body bends backwards to a point it seems like it should crack. Coming up, he's frowning sternly at Grelm, as his hand having returned to hiding with the other behind his back. "I believe I told you, I prefer the term 'experienced', did I not? Perhaps it's time you learned some respect for your elders."
Let's see if I still have the strength to do this... he mused internally, before bringing a foot up and attempting to strike Grelm in his chin with it.
Davi's mouth twitches as Aliciette sits down. She manages to keep herself from smiling through force of will. 'Two down, two to go' In one fluid motion she pushes herself out of her seat and next to Anthony. She winds her arm through his and leans her head on his shoulder with a contented sigh.
"Silly how some people focus on appearance. Sheyln teaches us that true beauty comes from within. What a shame that some think their outer beauty excuses inner rottenness. Don't you think so honey?" Davi looks up at Anthony with a sappy, adoring look on her face. Before he can respond she lets out a low whistle.
"Wow, that must have hurt." She's momentarily distracted Asrac's moves. "I see why you admire him so much. That's the kind of move that makes you loose teeth."
~I can't take too many more of those hits. His gauntlets will give him an edge over me in a straight fight.~
Giving the Shunned a quick study, as well as trying to keep from getting pulled into the other brawls erupting around him, Tarkus raised his forge hardened hands up into a boxer's stance and snapped out a quick jab hoping to score an easy strike. However the Shunned was just as quick to sidestep the strike and by the cocky grin on his face, Tarkus knew the other was reliving their sparring sessions from long ago and growing confident that Tarkus was still a novice to fighting.
~Now he should lead in for a body blow of his own which if I move with it in time should open up for a nasty surprise.~
Derrak smirks. "Just like old times, hmm?"
His face falls when his second punch whiffs as well, changing into one contorted in rage. When did he get so fast?
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The aasimar woman stands in front of Anthony, just as tall as he is, staring down her nose at him."I understand your envy, demon-spawn. My pedigree is impeccable. Who did your mom f$$! to get an ugly mug like yours? A hezrou?" She takes a swing at Anthony, but the...
Anthony catches the Aasimar's wrist as she tried to throw a punch and smiles. "Alas, " he sighs, "I have not jealousy or hate for thee, but surely you are being manipulated. Such a rose's thorns cannot be so cruel. 'Let us make love, not war.' As the ancients say." Anthony puts his hand out in a gesture of friendliness. He nearly blushes a moment later and blurs out,"'Make love' in a platonic sense, of course!
The aasimar woman looks simultaneously bewildered and revolted. Her hand hovers over the handle of her scythe for a moment, but she feels the sheriff's eyes on her, so she stops herself. When Davi embraces the tiefling, she takes a step back, her hands on her boyish hips.
"What are you doing, Nirashi?!" The dwarf barks, noticing that his companion is no longer engaged in the fight.
"Ugh. I can't do this, Derrak. I don't want to touch it. Either of them. Abyssal tainted monsters, the both of you!"
Meanwhile, Adrac kicks Grelm square in the jaw, sending him flying into the table behind him. The force of Grelm falling into the table knocks over a lamp, igniting Doctor Krane's precious shroud. Phineus Krane shrieks from the corner. He dashes to the table upon which he had displayed his shroud, beating frantically at the flames upon it with his hands. Unfortunately for him, the shroud is highly flammable, and is reduced into mere ashes in less than a minute.
Sheriff Blunnde draws his longsword and marches out into the center of the room, pointing it to each of the party members and the Company of the Black Banner in turn.
The commotion in the pub ends almost instantly. Even the mercenaries stop what they are doing and turn to listen. Grelm stands up unsteadily, rubbing his jaw, already purple and swollen.
The Sheriff makes eye contact with each member of your party, then each of the mercenaries. "This is the fault of each of you. I mean it." The Company of the Black Banner starts muttering in protest. "SILENCE! Each of you. That artifact was priceless. I'm putting all of you under house arrest here at the Inn of the Wood until morning, so that I can sort things out. As for this damned dagger, I'm taking it as evidence. I'll decide who gets claim to it in the morning."
"Hey wait one minute that's our--" Grelm starts, but Cage Blunnde silences him with a glare.
"In Talmandor's name I swear. If I catch any one of you. Any. One. Of. You. Sneaking out of this inn before I decide who is paying for this. I will make sure there is a bounty on your heads in the entire damned country."
The inn had been in chaos mere seconds ago. Now everything is deathly quiet with the weight of the sheriff's proclamation settling over the crowd. Davi feels the tension rising and decides to break it the way she knows best.
"Oooo, oh no, I'm going to touch you with my abyssal-tainted fingers!" She moves toward Nirashi, wiggling her fingers as she goes. Once she's close enough she goes to poke Nirashi "I can't control it, the taint is too strong!"
"No, you're not sheriff. Laurel and I, us was standin' an' eating an' drinkin' with youm. Never met them rowdies before this. But I'll help you sort it, if'n you don't mind."
The halfling gets down before the sheriff has a chance to apologise and wanders over to the Professor, breaking Davi's self-created silence with a grin.
"Tell us master mage teacher, how much be this magic blanket? Tis a shame that this be a pile of ash. Maybe you should have taken it under the table when you ducked like a rabbit. Bin safer if'n you did."
When the sheriff finishes his piece, Soroza shrugs. Chuckling to herself, she turns to Davi, "Took her out of the fight, didn't shed a drop of blood, and it was funny. I like your style, Claws."
She sits back down at her table placement, and with a sincere smile says to Anthony: "That had to be just about the worst flirting I've ever seen in my life. But it was the best worst flirting, so that's something."
She sees the table still empty in front of her. "Any time we could get that food would be lovely, I'm about to waste away to my bones over here!"
Nirashi shudders and shrieks as Davi approaches, wailing all the way to her room. "No! No! What if your hideousness is contagious?! Don't touch meeeeee!!!!"" Aliciette rolls her eyes at the aasimar's behavior, her nose in a book titled, The Book of Joy, pretending to not notice Davi's close proximity.
The rest of the Company of the Black Banner, sans Pudge and Nirashi, sit back down in their seats. Their mood is considerably darker as they murmur to themselves, occasionally glancing over at your table.
There is an awkward silence for half a beat but then the bar maids come running out of the kitchen with plates covered in drink. A great cheer rises up from the patrons and soon the Inn is just as noisy and bustling as before.
Sheriff Cage looks at Herral with a frown, then shakes his head and leaves for his room for the night.
Sara runs over to your table and smiles winningly, dropping fresh, warm food and cold drink on the table. "Well! That was something, hmm? Don't let 'ol Cage bother you just one bit, he's always like that. His head'll be cool by morning. He might come up with some work for you to do to make up for the mess, though." She winks at Soroza, then lowers her voice. "But really, anyone who can make the Black Banners quake in their boots shouldn't have a problem with that, hmmm?" Speaking normally once more, she adds brightly, looking at Tarkus. "Oh, Master Stoutfolk! Can I get some stout and some food for you, sir? We have roasted lettuce, stewed whitefish, soft cheese, and oat porridge cooking today! 'fraid the trout is all gone, though."
Doctor Phineus seems to be in shock, staring at the ashes and blinking hard, as if he could make the shroud reappear if he closed his eyes long enough. Herral stirs him out of his reverie.
"I'm afraid that King Haliad III's body was destroyed during the Red Revolution. I was fortunate to craft the shroud just before the wars broke out. There will never be a replacement," he says softly.
"Sorry for youm, but who be him that King Hallard? 'Specially important to 'av 'is face as a memento, I be guessing. 'Av that zur." The hobbit tells him gently and pulls a free drink closer to the man's hand.
"King Haliad III," Doctor Phineus corrects him, but he isn't harsh about it. "King Haliad III was a king of Cheliax. He launched the Everwar, which expanded Chelish control into Molthune, Nirmathas, and the eastern region of Varisia that is now known as Korvosa. Andorens are quick to disparage the acts of the Chelaxian kings, but their contributions to history cannot be forgotten, lest we forget ourselves in the process." He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, sir, but I think I am going to retire to my quarters with this bottle of elderberry wine."
With that, Doctor Krane stands up and leaves for his room.
Adrac frowns as the sheriff detains the group, before pulling the dagger back out of his sash belt. Flipping it once more to grasp the blade, handing it towards sheriff Blunnde. "My sincerest apologies, Professor Krane." he says after the scholar as he leaves for his room.
Adrac returns to the table, grasping the pouring pot brought out with his hot water by the handle, and checking it with his hand, before pulling it away quickly. "Oo! Ah, still warm. Excellent." Adrac smiles, before bowing to the others. "I believe I should retire myself and conduct my evening meditation. I hope you'll excuse my absence, but I seem to have overdone myself a bit. Can't handle so much excitement in one day, not like I used to. I bid you all a restful sleep."
Adrac takes the pot with him as he climbs the stairs to locate a suitable room for the night.
She sits back down at her table placement, and with a sincere smile says to Anthony: "That had to be just about the worst flirting I've ever seen in my life. But it was the best worst flirting, so that's something."
Anthony raises a scaly eyebrow and and says, "Thank you?" His meal of stewed whitefish follows the abrupt restart of activity from the kitchen staff. He sighed and said aloud, "Sheriff Blunnde is usually fair in his judgments, but I've never seen anyone destroy a priceless artifact on his watch. Hopefully he won't keep us from coming here again. Its difficult enough traveling to and from Falcon's Hollow with this stop. " Anthony rubs his forehead in his hands and then finishes his food. He stands up and excuses himself and heads off to bed. In his room, he takes his journal from his pack and writes about the day's events and the days before.
Davi picks up her stout and chugs it down. She slams the empty cup down on the table. "Well, I'm off to bed. I want to be bright eyed for our morning berating. Night all!" Davi salutes the rest of the table and heads off to her room.
Soroza grins at Sara as she places the food at the table, "Answer to all my prayers."
She eats her meal with what could only be surprised as determined appreciation, and nurses her mead until other members of the party begin to disperse. After Davi leaves, Soroza polishes off her drink, rises, and makes a show of stretching and yawning. "That is the evening for me, as well. I wish you all dreams of pretty faces."
Heading to her room, she pauses briefly across from Aliciette and offers a faint suggestion of a smile, "Good book.", and continues to her room.