Duour's page

I move to stride beside Ilsa & Bartok, the last of the pork disappearing down my throat, shooting a fiendishly toothy leering smile at the nearest fisherman before hefting his largest catch on display for sale eight feet into the air to meet my eye, taking a large ravaging bite & tossing a fat coin purse onto the flat bloody surface of his cutting table.

"Worry not so much about what they think, our presence is a boon to them should they accept it and a quick painful end followed by a disgraceful puppet show of their corpses should they not. I've worn plenty a man's face-hide on my hip and shall surely wear more. They will pay in blood should they cross us. Go about your ways as you would sharp cat," my clawed hand stroking Bartok's ear,"and you yours She-conjurer. If we are to inspire fear in our enemies we must be feared by all others first.”

With speech muffled through a mouthful of pork & bone "Sounds fun," I nod. "Perhaps there we might learn yet more of the house's secrets, or something more about the wizard himself."

"Keep it." I pull the leg from the table, quickly peeling back the paper as I tear away a large chunk. I make my way over to the alchemist's shop and upon arriving, quietly rap on the door with a knuckle not covered with pork juices.

Handing the dwarf 5 gold,"perhaps a leg, or two....whichever really." Picking my teeth with a long hooked claw, I flick away an unidentifiable shard of bone and wait, gaze passing over the nearby shops.

"Mmmm, I think today I'll favor the swine. How much for the largest piece you have?"

I wander the wharf, seeking out the scent of fresh roasting meat, grumbling stomach providing an accompanying chorus to the sound of my heavy stride.

I find it funny how much that avatar pic actually looks like you, Jarrod.

Duour chuckles deeply at Cereanos' antics, the noise of her stifled laughter similar to wet gravel scraping against itself. Her strides are held back to keep from overtaking her party members and as the group descends down the hills towards the town, she gives a look over her shoulder, almost to make sure the house still stands behind them, unmoving and dark as stone, glittering with fresh rain.

"The magics of the house itself are strong. Perhaps we should attempt not to keep them from entering, but arrange for them to face the same perils we did, only vastly more potent and lethal. I'm sure the Oathmaker alone would provide a good bit of trouble for them. We should inquire as to other guardian creatures we can arrange to have at the ready. Spells are all well and good, but snapping bones, bruising flesh and breaking skulls appeals to me much more as a method of thinning their forces. I want those who move forward to do so with the memories of their fallen, eviscerated comrades fresh in their mind as the blood on the floors. Perhaps Stasia might have some information for us. I may also make a stop at the Lady's Lounge for a drink and a bit of inquiry with the locals."

Duour adjusts a few bindings on her wrists, long clawed fingers moving carefully so as not to slice through the cloth with accidental ease. Her gaze passes over the room, a full two heads above her compatriots. She waits for the others to begin the trek before taking her first long stride towards the town, taking up the rear of the procession.

As Duour speaks, her voice is like gravel, grating and harsh against the ear like a broken nail.

"As well as sealing our home against sudden intrusions, I should like to cast my vote for something nasty & sharp to lay in wait of their arrival inside. If they bring the fight to us and our place of living, I should like to have a few trophies waiting ready once the scuffle is over. I think a nice shawl of their faces would be divine, but then that also leaves entrails & limbs un-used. Hmmmm, what to do. There's always furniture I suppose. A grand sitting chair of their arms & legs would be most comfortable, I think."

Snatching a large leg of unknown meat from the table, her visible eye drifts upward in thought as her teeth gnash through meat & bone with cruel ease. A line of fluid drips from the corner of her mouth to her chin, which she wipes away as a second thought with a bit of fine cloth made of baby skin.

Rachel here :)