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She sighs and her smile sours as she thinks of her current program. "Oh, how I would enjoy Breaking of the World. While I've not yet performed it I do enjoy the role of a Goddess." She pauses a half-second to sip her wine. "I'm afraid we're completing our run Among the Living tonight."
Seeing quite a few blank faces at the table she adds, "Oh sorry, what was I thinking. Among the Living is an epic tale of a lone Ulfen warrior named Victory who sails to the ends of Golarion, crashes off the edge of the world, and finds himself in a gothic paradise where he falls in love with the undead queen of a jungle kingdom."
She finishes the last sentence with obvious annoyance as she scowls and she slowly drags her hands down her body head to torso, posing for the group and clearly marking herself as the obvious undead queen.
Mera fights from making herself any more visibilty flustered than she already is.
Makes me want to vomit. I mean really, UNDEAD QUEEN?!
What a strange play indeed. The wildest fey-tales in Bildt had no dallying with the dead...then again...I would be the last to speak on the matter.
Raveen nodded knowingly, and added in a low voice, "I'm sure you lived up to your reputation on-stage. Divine drama has its own share of...unpleasant plays."
In the blink of an eye she bats her eyelashes quickly and her pearly white smile has returned as she looks at her companions. "But it finished tonight, it was our last showing. I'll be on break for the next fortnight I'm afraid."
Raveen smiled supportively at the stage actress.
Noticing her glance at the large stoic stranger, he attempted to catch her eye.
"Thank you, s--eh--Mr. Cato." At Cato's response, Raveen said heavily, catching his room key in mid-air, and putting his cup to Mera's offered bottle. Strangely restless at the topic of undead, Raveen shifted in his seat and turned to Cato's hung greatsword.
"I must admit...this company leaves me loath to take the road back home, especially with...you-know-what on the streets. Leaving the safety of this welcoming hearth would be a terrible way to start an evening."
Cato quickly vanishes Mera's payment into a pocket, save for one coin. He flips it through the air, end over end with a soft ting. "Tails," he mutters to no one in particular. He catches the coin on the back of his left hand with his right, and lifts the right up to peek at the coin. He utters an almost inaudible curse, then places the last coin with the others.
"Thank you, s--eh--Mr. Cato." At Cato's response, Raveen said heavily, catching his room key in mid-air, and putting his cup to Mera's offered bottle. Strangely restless at the topic of undead, Raveen shifted in his seat and turned to Cato's hung greatsword.
"I must admit...this company leaves me loath to take the road back home, especially with...you-know-what on the streets. Leaving the safety of this welcoming hearth would be a terrible way to start an evening."
"Ah, the legendary shadow-beasts of Westcrown. Dusk-dwellers, night-terrors, whatsoever ya wanna call 'em," Cato frowns, and his brow furrows. "A dozen theories where they come from and a dozen-dozen more how to get rid of 'em. My money's on Aroden, personally. Thinkin' his death probably broke a seal on some form of ancient evil." The large man shrugs. "Else the Hellknights have found a very effective means of instillin' a curfew."
Cato nods approvingly at Raveen. "Good that you know that. Some folks come in not knowin'. They know soon enough, though. Last thing they learn, often." the older man says softly, gently. He lowers his eyes to gaze into his mug before flashing his sight back up to Raveen. "Speakin' of, are you from around here? Said you weren't from the north, at any rate."
Suddenly the leisurely atmosphere of the tavern is broken when a group of men walk through the door, arrayed in full Hellknight garb. Their footsteps fall heavy upon the old wooden floors of the tavern and the taverngoers fall silent. The apparent leader of the Hellknights, a mountain of a man with a massive serrated greatsword slung across his back, pans around the room, his faceless helmet somewhat eerie to behold. His eyes rest on Cato, who he points to and addresses in a resonant voice completely devoid of emotion, "You there, bartender. I demand to speak with the owner of this establishment."
A disheveled man clearly well into his cups attempts to leave, but one of the Hellknights stationed near the door grabs the man with a clawed gauntlet and slams him into a nearby seat, "You were not given permission to leave, citizen. You are to remain here until our business in concluded, is that clear?" The drunken man seems to have sobered up rather quickly and blubbers out, "Yesh shir, oi'm sorry! Pleash don't hurt mee!!!" The Hellknight then turns to the rest of the tavern, "That includes the rest of you as well. Failure to do so will result in arrest and subsequent punishment, as prescribed by Hellknight Justiciary Code 24-7, subsection C, Failure to Obey a Law-Abiding Officer of the House of Thrune."
The other Hellknights remain silent, almost like golems, as they scan the room for any signs of disobedience.
Monday blinks a few times at the "knight's" antics. Don't taunt them... Don't do it... Don't do it... Don't...
As the Hellknights enter Tuesday steps up even closer to Monday, keeping a calm stare leveled at the newcomers.
Cato rises slowly to his feet, his hands balled at his sides. Eying the Hellknight that slammed the drunk into his seat, the bartender makes a visible effort to unclench his fists. His voice comes out with a false calm that fails to completely mask a deep-seated fury. "You're speakin' to the owner, sir. Is there a problem?" Cato's eyes dart from Hellknight to Hellknight before coming back to a rest on the one he assumes to be their leader.
Well, damn, this night is just getting better and better.
Typhann freezes in terror while Litania takes another drag of her cigarette, seemingly ignoring the Hellknights.
Ah well, maybe one of them is cousin Gressil, not that it'll matter, he's a lapdog for these fanatics.
The leader responds to Cato, "It has come to our attention that your tavern is housing a lawbreaker. The individual has stolen from the Lord Governor and we have been tasked with retrieving them for their just punishment. So, I will ask you the same question: is there a problem?"
The leader scans the room, as if looking for guilty faces. He fixates on a frail-looking elderly man in the crowd, who is sweating profusely. The Hellknight leader has a seat at the man's table. "Tell me your name, citizen." the Hellknight demands. The old man replies, his creaky voice quivering and shaking, "I-it's Arnaud, s-sir."
The Hellknight does not miss a beat, responding immediately after the man's reply, as if he expected it, "Why did you steal from the Lord Governor, Arnaud?" Arnaud shakes, "Sir, I-I have no idea what you're talking about."
The Hellknight holds out a gauntleted hand, motioning to the man's arm, "Let me see your arm, ." Arnaud holds out his arm, flipping it over to reveal an intricate Varisian tattoo.
Without even a moment's hesitation, the Hellknight rises and pulls the man up by his throat, "You cannot hide from us, lawbreaker. No one can." The old man struggles in his iron grip, gasping out "P-please sir, it was just a bit of food to feed my daughter with! She's all I have left!"
The Hellknight replies coldly, "The circumstances are irrelevant, thief. You have broken the law and will be punished. You have admitted your guilt and, therefore, there will be no trial. Your sentence is execution by hanging, to be carried out three days hence. We will search your property on the morrow and, if we find the stolen goods in your daughter's possession, she will be punished as well for being an accomplice to your crime."
The man croaks out, "No!!!" before passing out. He then hangs limply in the Hellknight's grasp. The man motions with his free hand for the other Hellknights to come forward, "Chain him and take him hence." Two of his compatriots come forward and do as instructed.
The Hellknight leader returns to Cato, "Did this Arnaud have a room here, citizen?"
Could do something, then I'll probably get slapped or worse, then Tuez will hit one, then it'll get much worse... Poor bastard...
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"Ah, the legendary shadow-beasts of Westcrown. Dusk-dwellers, night-terrors, whatsoever ya wanna call 'em," Cato frowns, and his brow furrows. "A dozen theories where they come from and a dozen-dozen more how to get rid of 'em. My money's on Aroden, personally. Thinkin' his death probably broke a seal on some form of ancient evil." The large man shrugs. "Else the Hellknights have found a very effective means of instillin' a curfew."
My money is squarely on the state of Nidal[I], Raveen thought darkly as Cato continued to talk, [I]shadow-craft and night-beasts are right up their cursed alley.
"Good that you know that. Some folks come in not knowin'. They know soon enough, though. Last thing they learn, often." the older man says softly, gently. He lowers his eyes to gaze into his mug before flashing his sight back up to Raveen. "Speakin' of, are you from around here? Said you weren't from the north, at any rate."
Raveen nodded at Cato's words, before noticing that the older man shot him a question. About to rehearse his well-crafted story, he looked up at the sounds outside--of heavy footsteps at the threshold, and the well-oiled squeak of familiar-sounding armor.
"And here is the evening's entertainment," he said quietly at the table, as the group of Hellknights entered. Armed to the teeth and armored to the brow, the leader spoke--directly to Cato. A drunkard appeared to be sobering up, and attempted to leave the tavern.
An ill-thought of idea, Raveen thought, as one of the Hellknights forced him down to his seat.
Raveen took an easy stance in his chair, and adopted behavior that law enforcement found easy to work with as Cato tried (and to his eyes) nearly failed in containing his obvious hatred. The Hellknights searched the room, and found an old man--whom they accused of stealing from the Lord Governor.
Without even a moment's hesitation, the Hellknight rises and pulls the man up by his throat, "You cannot hide from us, lawbreaker. No one can." The old man struggles in his iron grip, gasping out "P-please sir, it was just a bit of food to feed my daughter with! She's all I have left!"
The Hellknight replies coldly, "The circumstances are irrelevant, thief. You have broken the law and will be punished. You have admitted your guilt and, therefore, there will be no trial. Your sentence is execution by hanging, to be carried out three days hence. We will search your property on the morrow and, if we find the stolen goods in your daughter's possession, she will be punished as well for being an accomplice to your crime."
The man croaks out, "No!!!" before passing out. He then hangs limply in the Hellknight's grasp. The man motions with his free hand for the other Hellknights to come forward, "Chain him and take him hence." Two of his compatriots come forward and do as instructed.
The Hellknight leader returns to Cato, "Did this Arnaud have a room here, citizen?"
"Good sirs, Raveen said diplomatically, looking up to them in the most non-threatening manner he could. "Know I surely that you are doing your job most excellently--but perhaps his status of poverty constitutes as a mitigating circumstance? Of course, chaotic the act may be in the eyes of an outsider, they were lawfully-aligned in regards to his own home. One's first duty is to his home and country, correct? Perhaps a sentence most in line with his crime is labor in the fields of Eastern Westcrown."
*Applied Intelligence instead of Charisma to convince [Philosopher] trait.
Edit: Natural 1. Raveen misidentified the old man as a famous philanthropist, and is confused why 'Old Man Jimmy' has a Varisian Tattoo. :/
Mera sighs when the Hellknights enter. If there was a sure thing to sour the mood, this was certainly it.
Well, there goes the atmosphere.
She tries to place the old man but fails to do so and shrugs.
Best to be quiet and just let them be on there way.
And then Raveen speaks.
Oh, crap. There goes that idea. Just what she needed, a hero.
Mera buries herself in her wine, looking the other direction.
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Mera buries herself in her wine, looking the other direction.
Having noticed Mera's response, Raveen said nothing, but continued to look politely at the knights.
Come on...playing with terms is right up your alley. I've diverted and confounded thousands of your type before. Just take the bait...judgment pronounced on the spot can be easily changed. , he thought, thinking mildly. I wonder if the old man would survive hard labor in the fields regardless...Westcrown is a cruel mistress...even in mercy.
"Aye, he rented a room," Cato says, his words dull and flat as hammered steel. He stares deep into the soulless slits of the helmet before breaking eye contact. "Number six, as I recall. Don't think he even had much chance to visit it yet. Like as not still has the key on him," Cato says, nodding towards Arnaud.
"Careful searching it, please," he adds, although his tone indicates that he has no illusions as to what a group of Hellknights searching for proof of a crime will do to a clean room.
"Good sirs," Raveen said diplomatically, looking up to them in the most non-threatening manner he could. "Know I surely that you are doing your job most excellently--but perhaps his status of poverty constitutes as a mitigating circumstance? Of course, chaotic the act may be in the eyes of an outsider, they were lawfully-aligned in regards to his own home. One's first duty is to his home and country, correct? Perhaps a sentence most in line with his crime is labor in the fields of Eastern Westcrown."
Cato grinds his teeth. He opens his mouth to say something, considers, and closes it again. He waits for the Hellknight to respond.
The leader turns to Raveen, "Your empty praises and silver tongue mean naught, citizen. There is no such thing as mitigating circumstances, only guilt or innocence. This man is guilty of Grand Theft from An Elected Official, a crime whose punishment is death by hanging. Unless you intend to serve as his barrister and appeal the sentence, then be silent and thankful that the law is being upheld."
Upon hearing Cato's reply, the Hellknight turns his head and speaks, "We will be as careful as is required, citizen. However, to preserve the location so that there is no tampering, everyone must leave this place for the night."
One of the other Hellknights steps forward, "Commander Maric, are you certain of this? the Shadow Beasts roam the streets at dark and prey on people who are not so well-trained as us."
Maric, leader of the group, speaks in a harsh tone to the youthful-sounding Hellknight, "Remember, Darius, your duty is to the . The people are to be protected within the bounds of the law, but when you must make the choice between the people and the law, you must do your duty. Remember your vows and the Hellknight creed."
Darius reaches out, as if to reproach Maric, but brings his arm back to his side,"I... yes, Commander Maric."
Maric raises his voice to ensure that all in the tavern can hear him,
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The leader turns to Raveen, "Your empty praises and silver tongue mean naught, citizen. There is no such thing as mitigating circumstances, only guilt or innocence. This man is guilty of Grand Theft from An Elected Official, a crime whose punishment is death by hanging. Unless you intend to serve as his barrister and appeal the sentence, then be silent and thankful that the law is being upheld."
Raveen nodded respectfully, and remained quiet as bidden.
He paid attention, however, shifting his eyes silently to any sign of dissent within the ranks, or the smallest bitter look on any civilian."Remember, Darius, your duty is to the law. The people are to be protected within the bounds of the law, but when you must make the choice between the people and the law, you must do your duty. Remember your vows and the Hellknight creed."
Darius reaches out, as if to reproach Maric, but brings his arm back to his side,"I... yes, Commander Maric."
Commander Maric and possibly Armiger Darius... he thought.
Maric raises his voice to ensure that all in the tavern can hear him, "CITIZENS! THIS BUILDING IS BEING OCCUPIED BY THE HONORABLE HELLKNIGHT ORDER FOR THE PURPOSES OF THE ONGOING INVESTIGATION OF ONE ARNAUD DECAEMON. YOU ARE TO VACATE THE PREMISES POST-HASTE! IF YOU HAVE ANY BELONGINGS IN ONE OF THE ROOMS, YOU MAY WAIT OUTSIDE AND ONE OF THE OFFICERS WILL BRING THEM TO YOU. YOU HAVE THREE MINUTES TO LEAVE. FAILURE TO DO SO WILL RESULT IN YOUR SUBSEQUENT ARREST AND SENTENCING FOR THE CRIME OF OBSTRUCTING AN OFFICER OF THE LAW."
Excellent, just when I needed an excuse, he thought, rising from his seat, and keeping his room key in on the table where Cato can see it. He headed out, wrapping his cloak around him, thanking those who shared his company for the evening.
I expect that we shall not meet again. he thought sadly.
*Apply Studied Target to all those he rolls against.
Raveen looked somewhat surprised to see you, but accepted the offer to take shelter in numbers during the night. He delays his investigation, not wanting to seem suspicious.
The muscles in Cato's neck visibly stiffen. "I assume you only mean the customers and patrons. This's the only home I've got. Sir." Cato spits out the last word with malice. "Sendin' me into the streets this late'd be a death sentence."
Not how I imagined dying. Litania slowly stood, paused to let Typhann flutter onto her shoulder, and turned to Cato. "There's a joint not too far from here owned by an associate of mine where we could hole up for the night, Cato. It'll be risky, but strength in numbers, right?"
He's no friend of mine, she thought, but Cato's been good to me and I suppose I owe him this much.
Snapping her head in Litania's direction she'll throw her hands up together in front of her. "Yes! Strength is in numbers... Might we come too, please?"
Maric responds to Cato, "Home or no, this is the scene of an official Hellknight investigation and the Order is under no obligation to see to your safety. We exist as servants of the Law and the Law alone. If you cannot defend yourself, then that is a fault that lies solely with you. As was dictated by the Ruby Prince, weakness is the greatest sin, one that life itself punishes by abandoning the sinner."
Darius steps forward, "Commander, I would ask that you allow me to at least accompany them to a safe destination. Please sir, these people should not all be put at risk because of the actions of the thief."
Maric coldly replies, "You may escort them Darius, as is your prerogative, but you are to submit yourself to the garrison on the morrow to be scourged and chastised for the sin of abandoning your post. Are we clear?"
"Crystal, commander." Darius balls his right hand up into a fist, places it on his chest, and bows his head to Maric. He turns to Litania, "Where is this place that you speak of, madam? I would see that you all make it there safely."
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Raveen mulled over his observations silently as Commander Maric spoke back listlessly at the bartender.
As the Armiger Darius offered to escort them all, and grave physical cost, Raveen put his hands into his cloak, waiting to see the reactions of the rest of the taverngoers. Not wishing to insult Darius's sacrifice by speaking, he stood lost in thought.
Mera takes another long pull of her drink, finishing the glass.
But not the bottle.
Mera looks between the exchange of the Hellknights with interest, but keeps to herself. When they ask the room to vacate to the street she frowns, obviously not pleased. An odd curiosity when one of the Hellknights offers to see them to safety.
That's a bit unusual...
Once they are outside the view of the commander she leans over and placing a gentle hand on the shoulder of the one called Darius. "Thank you kindly for you assistance this night. Surely you have all of our gratitude kind sir."
"Ah, where is that half of my humanity? Of course you may also come with us, what was it ... Monday, and Tuesday. Mera, was it?" As she tries to remember names, she seems distant. Her face had hardened at the name Darius, more so than anything else that occurred that evening.
She passes the Hellknights on the way out, her glare taking on that amber glint, and Typhann croaked ungracefully at the perceived leader.
"This way, Darius." She points down a dimly lit street and leads the way, pulling her cloak's hood over her head. "It's a seedy place called the Sunken Barrel run by a man named Jaculus. You'll know it when you smell it."
Letting out a little squeal of glee Monday will happily hug-cling Litania's arm, keeping that embrace as they walk. "Many, many, many, many, many, many, thank yous and praises. And yep! But you can call him Tuez if you like, and you can call me Mooni, which I'd like."
Stepping out into the night air Tuesday becomes much more animated, by his standards anyway. Shifting his head from side to side his eyes dart about every overlapping shadow and object standing out in the darkness.
Mera spares a long formal bow but inclines her head and offers her thanks, stepping in line with the party and continuing on to the next party location.
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Raveen observed Mera stepping in with the other tavern-goers, and awaited Cato's appearance from inside the tavern, observing Monday's behavior with a curious glance. Lady Litania is not in her element.
[spoiler=to the GM: Behavior]Raveen would stick to the side of the escort, utilizing his Low-Light Vision to negate concealment and see whatever is hiding in the shadows without a check. If something does hide behind cover or has Hide in Plain Sight, his perception check is as so:
Sunken Barrel, Raveen thought. A tavern by the docks?
"There's a joint not too far from here owned by an associate of mine where we could hole up for the night, Cato. It'll be risky, but strength in numbers, right?"
Cato nods in agreement. "Aye. Thanks, Tani. Be much appreciated," he says warmly before turning to the nearest Hellknight. "I'll be a moment. Just need to gather a few things," Cato growls, and disappears briefly through the back room. He emerges carrying a suit of black banded plate with scarlet inlay. The color is somewhat faded, and the armor is dented in several spots, indicating heavy use. A crude scene of a lone man in gladiator garb standing atop a pile of slain enemies, his sword raised aloft in victory, is displayed on the armor's breast.
Cato hefts the armor towards Darius. "Here, boy. Multi-task. You can help me put this on while you search it for breadcrumbs or other incriminatin' evidence," Cato says in a voice so quiet it is almost a whisper.
"Friend, I trust you have not forgotten your sword over the mantelpiece," he said to the bartender, avoiding the Hellknight's gaze if he so shoots at him. "I would not doubt our escort's word, nor his honor, but we are a large group--and large groups attract attention."
Cato shows a toothy grin. "Spent years wishin' I could forget," Cato mutters bitterly, although he gives Raveen a nod of agreement. The tall man picks the sword off its display, runs an appraising finger over its edge, and shoulders it.
"Ready when you are," he says to the group.
Darius helps Cato put on the armor, whispering back to him as he worked on the various clamps and buckles of the armor, "We're not all like Commander Maric, sir. His years in the Order have stripped him of any semblance of basic human compassion. But he, like many of our order, set out to solely to help protect and serve the people of Westcrown. The life of a Hellknight is scarcely a path one would choose for selfish reasons."
After helping Cato's don his armor, Darius walks out of the door, motioning for everyone to follow him.
The armiger seems somewhat puzzled at Litania's emphasis on his name, "Do you know me, Miss... Tani, was it?"
Darius turns to Mera as she gives him thanks, "You are welcome, my lady, though your gratitude is not required. I would like to think that others would do the same, were they in my position."
As the assembled group steps out of the tavern, the light drizzle of rain becomes audible. The cobbled streets are lonely, with not a single soul in sight besides those among the group leaving the tavern. A thin fog winds and curls through the streets, no doubt blown in from the sea by the cold Autumn breeze; not enough to obscure vision, but enough to lend the city an eerie air at this hour. A dog barks angrily somewhere in the distance, likely a stray mutt of some sort. The buildings on the street, once well-appointed dual-leveled houses, stand like sagging monoliths, the rain running in the grooves made by peeling paint, cracked stone, and worn wood. The buildings are almost like a microcosm of Westcrown: a worn facade of a once-majestic past.
The young Hellknight addresses the group, speaking as quietly as possible while still being audible to those around him, "Everyone, listen closely. Those of you who have no combat experience, huddle towards the middle of the group. Those of you who do, form a ring around the others and keep watch in all directions. If you spot any movement, then let the rest of us know in a quiet manner, so as not to alert any nearby Shadow Beasts. Everyone got it?"
The taverngoers nod their heads in agreement, with a few whispers of assent.
Darius helps Cato put on the armor, whispering back to him as he worked on the various clamps and buckles of the armor, "We're not all like Commander Maric, sir. His years in the Order have stripped him of any semblance of basic human compassion. But he, like many of our order, set out to solely to help protect and serve the people of Westcrown. The life of a Hellknight is scarcely a path one would choose for selfish reasons."
Mera nods in ascent, reaching her hand under cloak and touching a reassuring blade.
I don't think we are new to these streets Hellknight.
Monday happily steps to the right to allow the others the middle.
Tuesday quietly steps to the left to allow Cato and Darius to take up the front and rear.
Litania glares into the face of the armiger her eyes more yellow than green. "No, I know you not, but another with the same name. He is a rather annoying thorn in my side; we shall see if the name does not carry the same curse."
Despite the venom in her voice, she takes a place just in front and to the side of Darius and begins to lead the party towards their hopeful safety.
"Typhann, fly ahead and scout out for anything obvious." The raven nodded and took off silently, gliding ahead of the group.
Darius helps Cato put on the armor, whispering back to him as he worked on the various clamps and buckles of the armor, "We're not all like Commander Maric, sir. His years in the Order have stripped him of any semblance of basic human compassion. But he, like many of our order, set out to solely to help protect and serve the people of Westcrown. The life of a Hellknight is scarcely a path one would choose for selfish reasons."
"You seem a decent sort, Darius," Cato says earestly as the Hellknight walks out the door. Once the younger man is out of earshot, Cato adds under his breath, "Be sad when they break you." The older man steps out the door and into the fog.
The young Hellknight addresses the group, speaking as quietly as possible while still being audible to those around him, "Everyone, listen closely. Those of you who have no combat experience, huddle towards the middle of the group. Those of you who do, form a ring around the others and keep watch in all directions. If you spot any movement, then let the rest of us...
Cato stands at the back of the group, sword at the ready. He wears a sharp scowl on his face that covers it in creases. "Damn devil," he whispers to the wind.
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"Spent years wishin' I could forget," Cato mutters bitterly, although he gives Raveen a nod of agreement. The tall man picks the sword off its display, runs an appraising finger over its edge, and shoulders it.
Raveen said nothing, trusting that the man had his fair share of battle at days past, as a thin fog rose. A raindrop fell on prominent cobblestone, with a soft pluck, before few of its other kin followed, forming a light drizzle. Just as I thought. What a terrible night. As he reflected on this, Cato had buckled his heavy armor with the young knight's assistance.
"We're not all like Commander Maric, sir. His years in the Order have stripped him of any semblance of basic human compassion. But he, like many of our order, set out to solely to help protect and serve the people of Westcrown. The life of a Hellknight is scarcely a path one would choose for selfish reasons."
"Be sad when they break you."
Such is the destiny of those who call themselves without choice he thought, face impassive, laying a supportive hand on Cato's shoulder, before setting off to his position. This land and her people suffers much.
Raveen followed at the right flank of the group, opposite to Tuesday, mildly surprised at the charged or tense atmosphere from the women' side.
As the party forms together and readies themselves for the march into darkness, Mera begins to sing quietly in a whisper:
And who are you, the proud lord said,
that I must bow so low?
Only a cat of a different coat,
that's all the truth I know.
In a coat of gold or a coat of red,
a lion still has claws,
And mine are long and sharp, my lord,
as long and sharp as yours.
The song appears more of herself than the party really, almost as if she is steadying her nerves or preparing herself for danger.
"Don't worry pussycat, we'll keep you safe." Monday quips, her smile taking on a more serene tone of nonchalance rather than the carefree goofish one she wore while in the tavern.
Cato shakes his head at Monday's comment. "Kids," he murmurs. Cato plants his feet into a readied stance as he continues to scan the area for signs of trouble. Although he hefts his large sword with a sense of practiced ease, his unguarded stance indicates a lack of formal combat training.
Typhann takes flight and soars through the night air.
The group heads down the cobbled streets, the splashing of water upon the stone as they walk and the drizzling rain the only sounds in the eerily quiet Westcrown night. It would seem that all of the windows on the lower floors and many of the windows on the upper floors of nearby buildings are shuttered, perhaps out of fear that such could be entryways for the Shadow Beasts.
After about a block's worth of moving, things seem relatively safe.