Faulkner entered the room he thought was the best of the bunch. He wasn't too impressed with the quite common accommodations it served. Closing the door behind him he made way and dropped his pack by the bed glad to be rid of the weight at least for a night. He began to disrobe but stopped when he noticed his door was open.
"Odd"." he said aloud before closing the door once more. Before he even reached the bed he heard the old hinges creek as the door slowly opened again. He stood there puzzled and thought it would be worth it to see if there were any casters who could be playing pranks on him. He didn't make the best first impression among the other guests after all.
Donning his armor and sword belt he strolls back to the main chamber getting the feeling that someone is fallowing him. Quickly noticing many of the patrons gathered around the bar Faulkner walks up and gets the end of the conversation.
"So i'm not the only one being haunted then." He states to no one in particular.
"I'll take another ale like what I had before, thank-you for the drink. Do forgive me for my impertinence, but you said you were going to a funeral. Would this happen to be the funeral of one Professor Lorrimor?"
Almost as an after thought Jethnash adds in.
"This must sound very quick, but would you mind if I composed a song about you? You seem to be an interesting fellow, and I would hate to forget such a person if worst would come to worst."
Excellent, well, that's a start at least.
I, truthfully, haven't seen much out of the ordinary but the company here this night. [b/]
Raises glass to Fester, then to ladies and company.
Feels cold, cold hands wrap around his waist, sending shivers through his frame. Looks behind him, sees no one.
[b]But then I could have missed something.
Yes, that is the man. I studied under him at the Lepidstadt University. He taught Advanced Religion at the time. I was an excellent student of his. We would spend hours after classes discussing various facets of deities, worship, and faith. He tried multiple time to get me to study magic with him, but, I felt my calling with steel instead.
Taps hilt of sword several times with glass.
As long as it is a good song, I do not mind!
"I will try to make it one of my best. A story about a swordsman tutored by a scholar who later on in his life became a legend with the blade. I can almost see the notes now."
Jethnash pulls up his journal and begins to write in it.
"Thank-you for bring me this tale."
With a flash of light and a crash of thunder, the door opens once more and an older man, soaked to the bone dashes in. Shutting the door behind him, he rests his back against the door, catching his breath. "Oh thank the stars! This storm is really getting bad. I saw the light from the road and figured anything would be better than staying out in that frightful weather!" Taking a better look at the room around him, his smile faded somewhat, "Though now I'm not so sure about that . . . "
The man walked to the bar, set his pack down by a stool, but did not sit. Instead he reached into his bag and pulled out a towel. After drying himself off, he sat heavily, sighing in relief as his feet left the ground for the first time in what felt like days. "Barkeep, a glass of red wine, and a bowl of whatever is warm, please." After ordering, he reached once more into his pack, and this time produced a small leather bound book. The title on the front read "Fantastic Beasts by Species and Location" and the author's initials were PL. Running a hand over the front of the book for a moment, he opened it to his bookmark and began to read while waiting for his order.
Zadrol remains seated at the bar. Approaching people he doesn't know has never been his cup of tea and anyhow he is hungry and slowly but delicately dissecting his soup. He finds this whole place very amusing with the tale of this place being haunted and all surely entailing a certain attarction to some visitors of Ustlava.
He ponders if such a tavern might actually be a career path for him once he retired from academia, especially as in such a haunted house nobody would notice if someone truly went missing. Zadrol looked to to host and back to his soup pondering the possibilities.
When the mention of Leipstadt University comes up Zadrol looks over to the young man and suddenly notices that he likely remembers the young fellow from a lecture of his, hoping the man won't remeber him or have the guts to approach him about it Zadrol continues to enjoy his wine and soup.
Vigilance eyes the different characters around the bar warily. His cat-like pupils flit from customer to customer trying to drink in as much information as possible.
Interesting crowd. Some educated by scribes. Some educated by streets. All here for reason.
Before he can stop himself, the tiefling mutters out loud, "Reason most likely not soup."
"I will try to make it one of my best. A story about a swordsman tutored by a scholar who later on in his life became a legend with the blade. I can almost see the notes now."
Jethnash pulls up his journal and begins to write in it.
"Thank-you for bring me this tale."
Not a legend yet, my friend. Best not to test fate, how about a song of people who met in a spooky tavern and traded stories of interest and drinking?
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Zelda looks up "You knew the professor too. Well I guess that makes sense that you are here now. I just wish I had the time to thank him for all he did." she has a far away haunted look.
As far as the inn being haunted I am not so sure, but I do know I have seen much much worse." She begins to remember cries of the dying thoughout the night. Seeing the dead in the street. Zelda quickly shakes her head and thinks They will pay, when I catch up with them I will....
She quickly looks around for a change of subjects. So you knew the professor, how did you meet him?
Notices the Prof. Taladia lurking in the shadows, remembers him for a stern lecture about turning up to class smelling of filth and booze.
Not a fun night before, but at least Jenda was saved. The guard wouldn't go below ground at night.
He had.
The booze helped hide the shakes and fever he came back with.
Smiles broadly and raises his cup to the Prof.
Zadrol had hoped to remain anonymous for the remainder of the evening but now he had been noticed. Innerly he smirked but figured the man, whose name he had forgotten long ago, after all students were the greatest nuisance to the life of a true academic, was busy speaking to other guests so he'd be safe for now. None the less he managed a meager smile and raised his glass of wine in a meager greeting.
Well, looks like the fires done. he says, gazing towards the fireplace as the flames burn down into little more than glowing embers.
With thunder clapping loudly and lightning lighting up the sky, the Noble peers towards a basket that appears to be reserved for nothing other than fire wood.
Out of wood. Curses!
Placing his book on the table beside him, he bookmarks his page and hoists himself up to his feet before making his way over to the main stone spiral staircase, where proceeds to descend the stairwell.
The rain isn't the problem. It's the creatures that bother me. Still, if you want something done you must do it yourself.
Grabbing his raincoat, Charles tuts, puts on his bad weather boots and walks over towards a rather large Axe, slinging it up and over his shoulder as he heads towards a large set of double doors at the front of his home.
In the distance, through the torrential downpour and under the lightning lit sky, you can see a figure, black as night, making his way down the long pathway that's located within the Castle grounds on the hill.
At this distance it's hard to make anything out, but it looks as though the figure is swinging some sort of Axe in a downward motion, over and over again.
You're unsure as to whether or not your eyes are deceiving (you taking into consideration the weather conditions), but it looks as though another human shaped figure lay on the ground beneath him.
Faulkner moves to be next to Zelda. "Well I met him while I was still just a lad and now i'm here to say my goodbye's in the unhallowed place. Whats your story miss?
Glances outside, glimpses something strange. Shakes head, looks into cup, then sets it down and requests something different.
Must be the drink and fatigue playing tricks with my eyes. Still.
Did anybody else see something out the window?
Jethnash glances out the window.
"Oh, it looks like a person is committing the act you refer to as murder. Or maybe he's just chopping up a body to hide it? Do you think we should try, and see if we can help?"
Jethnash glances out the window.
"Oh, it looks like a person is committing the act you refer to as murder. Or maybe he's just chopping up a body to hide it? Do you think we should try, and see if we can help?"
Loosens sword and heads for the door, eyes hardened and as sharp as his blade.
But not the murder or chopping part!
A tall, slender man with the obvious look of a Shoanti tribesman walks quietly through the door, dripping. The stark white hawk on his shoulder ruffles his feathers, spraying water all around, then looks at the man, and screeches.
Yes, well, we're inside, out of the rain now, aren't we?
Jethnash gets up to follow Angus.
"Well now I have to know how this tale ends. Will it be a triumph of the hero, or will another Whispering Tyrant rise this night?"
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Zelda looks at Faulkner. Her face become haunted and a tear begins to form in her eyes. "My story is not a happy one.", she begin.
A coven wanted to experment with a plague. They thought my village would be the perfect place to test it. The professor arrived after the plague had run its course and those that survived were starving. Everyone else was afraid to come near the village but the professor just waltzed in and saved those that were left. She paused to regain her composur.
"Now I can never repay the professor for saving us. I will always be in his debt"
Zelda smiles gently and the sparkle returns to her eyes Surly you have a happier tail. Tell me about yourself"
As he walks to the door Angus replies
Goblin, Tyrant..whatever. Some one may need help or vengeance. You stand to for the right thing long enough, maybe someday there will be no more wrong to stand against. Something a teacher told me once.
Keeps striding to door not bothering to grab his cloak.
Strange, I remember the door being closer.
Jethnash follows closely behind Angus out into the rain.
"Well then let's stand for the right thing this time."
Dashing into the storm, Angus runs to figure he saw at full speed, heedless of the rain and dark.
Uses his off hand to wipe rain from his eyes.
Right, rain, storm, dark...blast it all!
Glances to the slight man beside him.
Doesn't look like much in a fight...Well, at least some one will remember me. Even if I'm idiot.
Seeing empty floor in the corner, the Shoanti heads to it, and sits, cross legged. The hawk hops, flutters, then settles on his shoulder.
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"That was strange. Maybe he likes the ran better than I do"Zelda comments as she watches Angus race out the door.
"I preferred a nice dry inn with a wonderful drink, like this wine here. But I do wonder what he finds so interesting in the ran." Zelda quietly wanders over to the window and peers out.
Faulkner looks and watches both Angus and Jethnash move towards the door. "Look at those two getting all puffed up like an angry cat. Hey you two know its just a woodsman right? He shouts to them before returning his attention to Zelda.
"A happy story isn't something one with my looks has to tell He runs his finger down a particulary nasty scar that leads to his mutilated ear. "From what i was told i was a slave in a hobgoblin war band. I escaped somehow but don't remember it. I was found not to far from where the Professor lived at the time and he healed my body and mind the best he could before setting me off to find the creatures that did this to me." He shakes his head realizing something. "What is compelling us to share these tails? We just met!"
** spoiler omitted **
** spoiler omitted **
A spiked fence runs around the entire complex while a large portion of the tree's within have been brought down to mere stumps. A good 300 feet away from you (the grounds are huge) is a dark figure in a long flowing coat, hacking away at wood.
Circling one of the spires above looks to be a blackened bird, no larger than a cat in size.
A tall armored figure enters in out of the foul weather. Walking up to the bar "Wash water if you please?" he asks in a strong, deep voice, though already sodden. He goes about washing his face and hands with a rote that seems like ritual, and then cleans the worse of the mud from his clothes and armor. Only once this is complete does he order something, " My thanks, and can you get me a mug of mead and whatever you have cooking that is hot and hearty?" He then turns and tries to find an open table.
Dour and taciturn, Fingers enters the bar. "I get the strange feeling I was here before, but maybe not...". He doesn't look to long at any one person in the place, but gets the general feel that this is a tough crowd.
"They all just seem to be waiting...for something."
He orders three fingers of whiskey and takes a seat in a dark a spot as remains. He pay particularly attention to any that seem loud or boisterous, but mainly scans looking for any easy mark among them or anyone who might be particularly dangerous.
** spoiler omitted **
Sees the man chopping wood, stops and bends over placing hands upon knees to catch his breath.
Then begins to chuckle, then to laugh uproariously.
Maybe..puff puff..there is something..strange about that place after all! I'm an idiot, make sure it sounds like I'm Heroic Idiot in your song!
The bartender has seemed to disappear, but your drinks turn up all the same. In the distance, you hear screaming, torturous screaming, and it is getting louder. Before it gets to the point of where it is deafening, the door to the kitchen opens, and the small girl comes out again. She refills everyones drinks and soups and whispers to each one. "Heres your soup... Careful... He isnt happy..." Any questions you ask her make her seem more nervous until she finally runs, screaming back into the kitchen. You look around for your backpacks and find that they are either missing or not your own.
You hear children's laughter... But there are no children here...
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Zelda firmly gasp you hand. "Its a pleasure to meet you."
As the screaming begins Zelda quickly covers her ears and seems roll up into a ball hoping the sound will stop. Suddenly she stands up again with a determined look.
Ok enough is enough! Who will go with me to find out what the real cause of all this commotion is about?"
** spoiler omitted **
Little strange to be chopping wood, at night, in the pouring rain no less.
Something is off here. I do not know what, yet. Let us see with our eyes what is going on.
Strange, I can cover that distance in a few moments at a sprint, why am i no closer?
Shivers with a chill not brought on by the rain.
Vigilance, surprised by his missing backpack, mutters a curse under his breath and looks towards the kitchen.
"May not be anything. Still, should investigate. I will come with," the tiefling says to the woman who suggested that they find the cause of the commotion.
He looks around at the rest of the patrons. "Items missing. Screaming. Situation smells rotten. Much like ale."
Zadrol rises and nods to Zelda.
Well met my lady. Let us examine the kitchen shall we? with that he draws his rapier and opens the door to the kitchen.
Sipping his wine with a contented sigh, Sothonin did a double take after a quick glance down told him his pack was gone. Shutting his book and hopping down from his stool, he looked around but his bag was nowhere to be seen. Apparently, this had happened to a good number of people, possibly all of them. He strode over to the group that looked to be doing something about it. He still carried his book with him, he'd not lose this as well.
"This may be some kid's prank, so let's be careful here. There's no cause for drawing steel while there's still a chance for a peaceful resolution. Worst come to worst, I can handle things with my own two fists." With that, he follows the group through the kitchen door.
Trudging through the mud, a few steps behind a halfling, Ulvidanu tries - and mostly fails- to keep his annoyance from his dripping face. Entering a few moments behind the halfling, he pauses, just inside the door, shaking his head like a dog, before realizing he was showering everyone nearby. He ducks his head, a little sheepish, and muttersa quick apology.
He weaves his way toward the bar, raising an eyebrow at the dense and interesting crowd, but before he reaches it, faces strike him as familiar. Drawing his hand to the breast of his long, green, gold-frogged jacket, he changes course through the crowd.