Shadrick Mavis's page

Watching this situation go on for as long as it had, Shadrick scoffed, until Fearn made his suggestion. "I would trust her word against his, that's most certain." he said, pulling out his whip and letting it fall to the ground.

Looking at the Baron as he insulted sanira directly, he made it a point to claim the following. "We will involve your wife, you troubled old fool, and should you insult Sanira one more time, I will make sure to leave a bit more than just a mark..." he said before pausing, and then quickly cracking the metallic whip in the air.

He wasn't kidding.

I'd like to point out that I'm still here, and slightly sleep deprived. Posting tomorrow.

Really fearn? No reaction from that Monologue?

Hearing the sweet words. Those sweet words leave the good baron's mouth. This... uncouth bargaining. Within every sane man there is a line, and should it snap, there is something that happens with said man. Shadrick's line is most assuredly on it's last legs...

Gripping his fist with the taloned gauntlet he'd had, a small trickle of blood left his palm, much like Sanira would do with her own devices. The bleeding only barely soothed his relentless levels of rage...

"You foolish. Foolish. Man..." he said as the bloodied palm gripped his scythe. "I will only do one more thing for you. One. This is the end of my pity, and I assure you that your death will, without a doubt, not be quick..." He said as the trickle fell a bit from his finger tips.

"I am. First and foremost, a beloved of Lilith. Fallen Angel and patron deity of Hedonism. I hail from the House of Mavis, sixth house of Lust in southern Cheliax. On my word as a house member, I swear to you, I will rid this world of that Shae."

Though he had just agreed. The intimidating glare that he was giving the man was... horrendous, to say the least. Echoing in his mind, he continued his last sentence; "And after it. You."

Looking at the man grovel at Sanira's feet eased his body and soul, thinking it right proper in regards to his faith, but Shadrick still, at his core, felt that it wasn't right. Sanira, a lovely woman who so followed the will of Lilith without even realizing she was... Need not concern herself. With. This. Wretch.

He gently pushed Sanira aside, farther away from the pitiful man.

"You are the lowliest man I have ever seen, and I say that with great disdain, having swam amongst the beggars and down trodden of Cheliax." he says, tightening his grip along his scythe. "Women have died. Women, Baroi. What was yours doesn't matter anymore. This no longer concerns you, and frankly, your ill-timed fate would effect nothing..."

With that, he loses control for just a moment, lunging forward and stamping his foot on the barons hand, holding his movements, and raising his blade against the man's soft, welcoming neck. "NOTHING. IT WOULD EFFECT NOTHING! Do you hear me you blasted fool!"

Twisting his heel, he began questioning, much to Fearn's surprise. "Where is it! WHERE! What is the root of this you blasted fool! Answer me before I make your NECK SMILE AND NEVER STOP TALKING IT'S CRIMSON FOOLISHNESS YOU BASTARD!" Shadrick roared, seizing somewhat with unholy zeal.

We're not going to be getting any help from the Baron. The fool has gone completely mad, and I've already snapped him back to reality once!" he says, turning on his heel instead of walking towards the big door. Throwing his arms up, he actually drops his scythe onto the ground as he moves towards the door keeper.

"You're people are ill. You're baron is mad! His relatives are missing from their graves! You're women die with grotesque throats that explode with bile!"

Grabbing the keeper's arm. "It is literally against my faith to let your women die so gruesomely! Your mad observer is foolish! This is not natural! AT ALL! You're foolish lord has done nothing but sequester himself off in shame and paranoia... He has done SOMETHING."
Forcing the man back roughly, he continues.

"You let us into that door this instant, and I promise you we can fix this" With that, he turns, picks up his scythe, and points to the door.

Intimidation Check: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (3) + 10 = 13

I'm officially back.

Shadrick walked into the room behind Fearn and Sanira with a wide smile, clapping rather loudly after hearing everything the man had just said. He even clapped for Fearn as well.

In all honesty, Shadrick was appaled to even be back in the manor, and he couldn't much stand the fact that someone as piss poor as the baron garnered so much respect for something as pitiful as Stephan.

"Good baron! We meet again!" he said, obviously sarcastic. "I don't mean to be rude, or rather, I do, but we're going to need you to be a lot more calm if I can properly scold you for being the daft bastard you've been."

Shooting a glance to Laurentiu, he merely shook his head. "Stupidity is a state? This man's done nothing but sell out this pitiful hovel..." Gripping his scythe, he continued to approach.

Shadrick grinned wide. The idea of seeing the Baroness was tempting, if only to twist the blade deeper into the baron himself that he would eventually literally proceed with the idea of... "Yes, indeed. I don't doubt that for a moment, concerning the Baroness. She was the one who informed me of their son." He smirked. "I wonder what will happen that he's the son of a bastard like that man?" he said with a bit of a giggle.

Looking to Sanira, he couldn't help but feel the wound on his forearm pulse with Zon Kuthon's unholy "grace." "Excuse me Sanira, but you wouldn't happen to know how to remove this gaudy thing, would you? Baron on the horizon regardless, I still have no real use for it."

Dusting himself off as he joined the others, Shadrick was a bit taken back by the sudden amount of heart to heart speak that had been going on. They'd known each other for only a few hours, at best. However, he couldn't help but agree.

"It's a shame we have to part after this, as well. As soon as my business is done with the good baron, I'm afraid I've business to attend to back in southern Cheliax." he said, placing his full helm back onto his head, though not completely so they could still hear him clearly.

"Let's hope this is the last day we have to deal with this, as well. I would much like to see the women in the area, of any race, far happier than they currently are." he said with a bit of a chuckle. It was a sullen one, however. The actions of the baron still weighed heavy on his shoulders, and no amount of delectable sarcasm was going to wash it over.

It was somewhat unnerving, waking up amongst the Fetchlings. He'd certainly been busy these last few days, and to make matters worse he couldn't help but still feel that burning hatred for Baroi. He'd slept on the floor, much to Sanira's dismay, really. Leaned up against the wall he'd past out from both physical and mental exhaustion pretty readily.

Standing up wasn't exactly the easiest thing he'd done and he felt his arm surge with that unholy pain that he would likely free himself of as soon as the situation at hand was over. Until then, he merely pulled his sleeves down to cover it beneath his coat.

Sighing a rather lengthy, drawn out sigh he opened the front door, meeting the gaze of the sun. It wasn't much of a glow here in this shantytown, but it was still the sun. Whether it was covered in foreboding fog or not. He couldn't do much about yesterday, and the idea of women having died as a result of the baron's actions was more than enough in his own code to kill him.

The question was how? And more importantly, when? Perhaps he'd see this thing through to the end and then come back at another time to really finish the job.

He raised his hand into the air as he went back to rejoin with the rest of the group.

Ill do it as soon as i get to my fantasy literature class. This, the single player campaign, and the other one.

"Oh rest assured, dear Sanira. I have no privy with devils, nor does my house. I have no ill-will towards Zon-Kuthon, rather, he and my respective deity's methods are quite similar, only, mine is... rather forthcoming." he said with a bit of a laugh.

He watched as the Fetchlings peered out of their respective hovels, each obviously scarred with the prevalent racism.

"I respect my mistress because she wants us to use our own power, and solve our own problems. In fact, she'd prefer we not make them. All she wishes I do is be merry, and partake in whatever pleasures life sends our way."

Turning to Fearn he cast him a wide brow. "With all of these subtle hints, Fearn, I'm impressed you've yet to figure out who I pray to."

Bit of a Retcon on this, but I worship a self-made deity named Lilith, a Lawful Evil deity that reveres women, and sins of the flesh. It *said* Zura, but I figured Shadrick, with all his evil, wasn't into vampirism or cannibalism, so...

"Are you not Familiar with the fallen angel Lilith?"

Shadrick laughs at the question. "Well, for the most part, the human race is full of ignorant, happy, somewhat bland regulars. Call them diverse, but at the end of the day alot of people are just looking out for their own hides..." he says with a bit of a sigh.

Still, don't worry. The people here are pretty vile. I mean;" he says with a bit of a chuckle. Anyone who would reject the lovely Sanira obviously has something wrong with them. Frankly speaking, Dwarf, as I mentioned before Nidale is the proverbial anus of human dwelling. The poor are sad, and the rich are too, and everyones up in arms over who can get their kicks out of stabbing themselves the most."

"Atleast the Mavis house in cheliax is chipper. I personally can't wait to return home when all of this is over."

Shadrick is somewhat taken aback by the sudden racism. He'd accounted for it, but, he didn't think this would happen. He sighs a long sigh after Fearn finishes his boasting; a long, drawn-out sigh of pure disgust.

"I've stifled a foolish man's riot today." he says as he walks up to the door, trailing on Sanira's coat tails. "I've witnessed a foolish clown die. I've seen fey defile the corpses with your confounded disease, and I've witnessed the death of shadows from the plane of darkness." he states.

Placing his hand on the door, he actually turns around after placing a hand on Sanira's shoulder. "I've received loving charity for our accomplishments from these "mutts" you speak of, some far prettier than your wife, I might add, you uncouth sack of stitches..."

Walking up to the bar he points a long, daggered finger at Boris. "With all due respect;" he says, turning to Fearn and Nikola, "I have expended my charity for the unfortunate and dismal today, and I would much prefer the company of those who would enjoy mine."

And with that, he followed Sanira out of the Inn.

Boris's wife isn't the prettiest thing, and there's likely some well-looking Fetchlings in the area. It falls under his religion to actually insult a woman based on her appearance if he has, in fact, seen prettier. It's about the only thing he's allowed to do.

Intimidate: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (5) + 10 = 15

"Anything beats the ground, I always say." Shadrick says with a bit of a matter'o'fact to his statement. He shrugs and slightly grins. "We could always call on the ever-endless charity of the good Baron, no?" he states followed with of a bit of a laugh.

"The inn is likely our best bet..." He looks to the rest of the group and takes a moment to admire the situation at hand. Silly as it was, he'd started to enjoy the company of this bunch, even if one would likely try to make him "Orthodox" in the future. Well... Two of them.

All the more reason to stay secretive, no?

As Sanira takes her time to check the graves, Shadrick keeps his conversation with Fearn going. As the man lists his troubles, he can't help but count them all and consider the possible answers.

Today is a test and a lesson that I may be failing. You are right. I am cowed by this land. Where is my voice that read Hammer and Tongs for the people on feast days? Why does my hammer lie idle in my hands while that fat priest bleeds his people? Why does Baroi sit unmolested when I could urge him to his duty? "

Approaching the Dwarf with arms crossed he chuckles a little. "Yeah, I'll actually not to being too simple." he says, waving an arm about himself. "I doubt you're really failing anything, to be honest. You're in the "enemy's territory, right?" he says, accenting the word enemy with his fingers. "Rules get foggy around here. As for your voice, I think you did pretty well with that lynch mob earlier today." he says, grimacing.

"I still can't believe we had to deal with that by the way. I'm rather happy that clown is dead. Have I mentioned that?" he states, obviously showing an air of disgust.

He looks back to Sanira, and then proceeds to walk up to Fearn and guide him away from the woman so as to not draw her ire for what he's about to say. Exposing the wounded forearm, he sort of wags it in the Dwarf's face. "Funny enough, I don't much care for this scar... If anyone's going to be getting the shaft from their respective deity for being out of sorts it's me, haha!" he says with a boisterous laughter.

He strokes the wound a bit, checking to see if he can get the scar completely worn away after some hefty scraping. "I really need to get rid of this thing as soon as I skip town..." he states. He stops guiding the dwarf away, but then looks back towards the direction of the Baroi's manor. "Me? I'll admit to being a bit of a stickler. Fine food, women, trinkets, and the like." he says, counting the things on his fingers.

"I've killed men, but it was in the right, atleast, by my standards, anyway. Never stole a thing, and women go without saying." he says. "Long story short, yeah, I'm not the most righteous man in the world, but there are worse... like that bastard Baroi." he says suddenly taking on a darker tone.

"If you've done anything wrong today, friend, it's not bash that fool of a baron's head in."

Shadrick mulls over as he assists the dwarf with putting the slab back on. With a sigh of relief, he re-asserts himself with the dwarf. "You know, Fearn, of all the people I've had the luxury of working with, I frankly never expected to be in the company of a Paladin. At least, not one that I'd be working with anyway." he says, planting the entirety of the slab on the ground.

"All of this... silliness. I merely came here to enjoy myself at first, and yet my own vices have me running around this blasted place." he states, scratching out his red hair. He looks over to the other coffin as Sanira proceeds to lift it up. "Ostracized Fetchlings, a shitty Baron, a crestfallen chief, and so many other things." he spits towards the corner. "Don't even get me started on that clown. That's the part that made the least sense." he states as he walks towards Sanira.

"Are you humble because you're in the presence of so much darkness in hearts, or are you just tolerant?" he asks, throwing his arms up and spinning around. "I'm quite certain you've tried to figure me out this entire time, but frankly I'm just a simple man with simple vices. Aren't we all?" he says with a bit of a chuckle.

"What even brought you here?

*Prepares to write post* *Looks at new post* *dmpced 7 minutes ago* *Laugh*

My bad on the not being here. I've been up to my ass in art homework. I'll get back on the ball shortly, however.

I feel as though we should investigate the Mausoleums and rest. I've a feeling that the 2 of you are nearly bone-dry when it comes to miracles for the day... He says, casting a casual glance at the priest. "Most of you, anyway." Looking at his new scar, he grimmaced. A symbol of Zon Kuthon on my arm? Sorry big man but as soon as I get my chance, I'm peeling this shit off the fun way... he thought as he looked at his new, purple-hued limb.

The sickening feeling was what bugged him the most. Shadrick had inflicted wounds upon himself a plethora of times and was never so disgusted, or felt as such. The pangs in his stomach were unattractive, to say the least.

"So everyone is okay now, yes? We've a shadow of grand size running around, a missing Ilquis, a bastard baron, and I feel something yet larger going on in the background of all this." he said as he walked towards the mausoleum. "And it's all long-frustrated me..."

As he walked towards the should-be emptied graves, he thought long and hard. So many females had went through trouble the other day, and even worse, some died. Thinking back to the fetchlings, he couldn't help but be frustrated. This land, though deliciously evil and full of debauchery, was still tainted with something he couldn't immediately put his finger on. Oh, right, it was lacking one key thing. So simple, too...

Fun.

For the entire time Shadrick had been in Nidale, the closest thing to enjoyable he'd came was a hot and bothered old, yet lithe woman, and a couple of fetchlings and he'd never been capable of doing anything with any of them. The ever-watchful gaze of the paladin at all times, and what's worse, the clown-doctor-bastard from earlier today. It all gave him a headache.

As a champion of Zura, he felt entitled to satiate his slowly growing desires anyway he aw fit, and from the looks of things he could think of only one thing that really appealed to him at this point. Seeing the look of that damned Baron's face as he had an... accident. Oh, there was an idea... Mmm... There was a window in that area, no? He could just kick him from there, and no one would be the wiser since he'd gone so mad.

He could even get in good with the baroness! Perhaps even rule and show this dark, abyssmal hovel what it was to have some enjoyment. He'd gotten away from himself in his daydream of bliss... but one thing was for sure. Before he was done with this place, he would find out all too well whether or not the Baron was a true believer in Zon Kuthon. He could apply his own special bit of torture, ending all too happily with a kick out of a window after he'd weakened him and unbinded the bastard.

"These mausoleums had better be empty..." He said, brow furrowed and scowl apparent.

Watching as this all unfolded, Shadrick sort of pursed his lip, thinking of the graves.

"Father, would you care, by any chance, if we took a closer look at those graves? I could certainly make it worth your while at some point in the future." he says, crossing his arms and watching as the blades sank into sanira's forearm, which was surprisingly almost as scarred and matted as his own limbs.

"I'm well aware that most good deities prefer their graves unexposed, but the naughtier ones, such as Big ZK and my own, however, don't seem to worry that much about who ends up where." he paces towards the man watching him as he works.

Looking to him, he cocks his head to the side and lets the red of his hair loom down a tad.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (8) + 14 = 22

His eyes look down to the scalpels and special unguents. "Perhaps, my good man, would you care in even the slightest if we made it a point to take a gander at whether or not those bodies are even there or not? Honestly with the Baron's current shenanigans and blatant regard for mischief in these dark times, it's a coin toss." he laughs. "The worst case scenario, we dig up a few sacks of wheat...

With a smile on his face, he looks to the fat bulbous man with a quizzical grin. "So wait, you weren't allowed to bury them? Or, atleast, see them? Isn't that poor form?" he asked. It was strange... it made him want to search the resting areas. By himself, of course.

Sounds absolutely fine... he says as he looks at the blades. A grin passes his face, however, in anticipation of a rather lucrative plan.

"May I make a deal, however? For every wound you inflict, and you may inflict any, of course, could you tell me something of this... baron, of yours? I am rather interested in his history.

If only because one of his cohorts is the reason for this damnable disease." he said, a grin raising over his face.

Shadrick turned, having sort of expected this. However, now he was in a bind. Saying that he wasn't doing it to worship Zon Kuthon may royally mess with the priest at hand, which was bothersome, despite his obviously grand delivery.

"Fearn, let me assure you that whatever reason I do this for, it is somewhat chivalrous of me. At least, in Sanira's case. Stay your gold. Besides, it's not like they're going to kill me... and besides. I've taken my precautions."

Bluff: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25 I'm a magnificent bastard.

Also that knowledge religion roll, which I'm pretty sure you're associating with pain, will probably put Zura on the list, but shadrick is NE, not CE. Otherwise he'd just be slashing himself left and right.

Shadrick looks around rather amused. While he was more a sadist, than a masochist, he still had prior arrangements. When the man continues to speak, he shrugs, with a bit of a smile.

To him, Kuthon was far too orderly, really. Or at least, his clergy was. Pain was chaos given form, really. It didn't really register, the idea of pain being... A systematic application of pain wasn't torture, it was a gimmick. He believed Kuthon venerated darkness more than he did pain.

"Good sir! I am, indeed a chelaxian, and, compared to my compatriots, haven't been so much as harmed. However, I do have a suggestion. Kuthon enjoys martyr's, no?" he asked, raising a hand and gesturing to himself. "Here is my suggestion, though I admit I have my own... reasons, but, I will pay for Sanira and the deaf witch's cures with my own flesh. How does that sound? A part of me is also curious of the abilities of your clergy to inflict exquisite pain..."

As he spoke, he removed a part of his armor, his left arm's gauntlet, revealing a venerable ocean of scars that had all healed nicely and discolored his skin.

The deed was in no way good. He would question them throughout the entire process, and Shadrick always had been bothered by Sanira's enjoyment of injury, evident in her palms. As a seperatist Zurite, it was against his code to let a woman become injured through outside means... even if she was of another faith.

Looking to the man, a thick wry smile crossed shadrick's face.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7 Reliability of Kuthonic Implcations
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (19) + 14 = 33Oh boy.

"Now sir, I present you the plan, though I admit I've a use for honeying my words. I inquire you, take this offer for the midnight lord, and lose yourself in the act, hmm? What do you say?"

A glimpse of... enjoyment, was all that was visible in Shadrick's eyes as he suggested this, tossing back a glance to Fearn, whom he wasn't sure would take this as lecherous, or chivalrous. He considered it hilarious that the line was so blurred however.

I'll be posting middle of the day tomorrow. I have to move into my dormitory, and that'll take some time. Bare with me.

As Shadrick walks along with them, he points out a bit of something rather simple. "If you're worried about the shadow, then why exactly are you traveling alone wearing religious memorabilia?" he sighs. Pinching his nose a bit. "If we all wish to be truly safe, I suggest we escort Oyla back as a group. Otherwise that shadow will just kill you, and then there we are..." he says, crossing his arms and gently halting Sanira.

Having assisted Fearn, Shadrick spat, obviously upset the the gist of the matters that had revealed themselves.

"Fearn, I should warn you ahead of time that I won't be kind to the Baron on our next visit. He's done more than enough to piss off a few of our collective religions..." He says, gesturing to the nearby Sanira.

"I believe we're done here." he says, taking Sanira by the hand and slowly tugging her along with him, as he'd seen more than enough. "Grab Oyla. I believe that fat bastard from earlier said something about her, but I can't remember."

As Shadrick walked, he thought to himself. If Fearn went to return Oyla in pristine health, that'd give him more than enough time to get his say in with the Baron... Peacefully... And by peacefully he meant without "Good Guy" interruption. A funny thought, for sure, but he wouldn't do the Baroness like that. ... Unless she wanted him too.

The evil I can live with... the dead, not SO! MUCH! he says as he throws his scythe across the room. He walks over to the vats and looks into them, making it a point to realize that they don't seem to contain any bodies. Dead women were one thing, but the least he could do at this point was assist Sanira.

Walking over he began to pan a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs up in frustration. "Sanira, give me your hand, or grab onto my shoulder."

he looked over to Fearn, and waved for the Witch to stop worrying about the vats. "Dwarf, and I know you probably don't like being called that, but I've got to vent my frustrations with today somehow... You may not enjoy this idea but there's not a cleric among us that can restore these 2.

He looks to Sanira, eyes whiter than before due to the blindness. "Is there a cleric at Zon Kuthon's church that could assist us?" he asked. [b]"If there is, then the current plan is to leave, fix you both, go to the baron, and... through clenched teeth and a whisper;

Knowledge: Engineering: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (4) + 7 = 11 Tapping into reserves of knowledge, Shadrick hoped he could somewhat find an easier way to tilt these wax barrels over. Alas, he couldn't remember a dam thing with his head pounding and the rush of worry that seemed to wash over him.

"Fearn! Let the Shadow go! We've got people in these and I'm almost 100% sure it won't take kindly to us! Now help me!" Get the main one on the end! he said, gritting his teeth, and attempting to flip the third container on it's side.

Strength Check: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18

Not wasting any time at all, Shadrick proceeded over to the wax cylinders, making it a point to wave over fearn as the shadow fled at great speed. "Fearn! The cylinders might still have people in them!"

Looking at them from he was standing, Shadrick tried to determine which ones might, or definitely did. Perception: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (4) - 1 = 3 The pounding of blood to the new hole in his tongue unfortunately watered his eyes.

frat. Dmpc me. Trip. Out of town. No charger.

So let me get this straight, I'm only doing half damage, right? If that's the case, here's my idea. Trip the f@&~ out of it. When it falls over, it gets an AoO from Fearn, but not me, and when it stands up, it gets hit by both of us, so that's 3 for 1, not including the fact that Fearn is going to hit it over and over again. So I like this idea. Are we all in agreement that I should trip this thing over and over and let smite evil take it's course and hope one of us crits? Namely me?

Deaf, but still useful as always, Nicola. I swear this would be a million times easier if that bastard Viluki hadn't curb stomped our early game. I could be lounging in fetchlings right now! Lounging!

As the shadow rose again and pierced him, he needlessly swung wide, missing his opportunity to hit the creature.

AoO: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13

"Sanira, I'm aware of Kuthon's affiliation with these, but I believe it is far beyond redemption!"

Ignorant to the situation, Shadrick bit his tongue again, this time to test the severity. The rush of the sting was painful, but it had certainly started to clog, so he was in no immediate danger.

Looking at the shadow, Shadrick turned to look at Fearn, realizing there was a good chance his weapon was capable of harming the thing. As he attempted this, he was confused. Would this even work?

Regardless, he tried it anyway, dropping to the ground and landing on his heel, spinning ridiculously quick with his scythe.

In an attempt to trip the shadow.

Trip maneuver: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (15) + 8 = 23

"If it falls! Beat it back! It cannot be allowed to harm the populace! We end it here, staggered or not!" he yelled at the Dwarf, spinning around to see whether or not he'd been successful.

Wait, magic weapon? What about the fact my scythe is +1? I was never good with that bit of pathfinder ;_;

Okay, so, how can I actually hurt this thing? As far as I can tell, I could go into total defense and bark orders at it, or I could strike a deal with it with my pretty sweet diplomacy, if it speaks what I do, which I doubt.

That aside, can I actually do anything to wound this?

Looking high up, Shadrick's head was woozey. The amount of blood he'd use no doubt came straight from his head, but that was a given. Regardless, Ilquis's concealment was squandered, whether he was in the sun or not.

Jumping rather high, Shadrick swung with his scythe, but the delirium from the blood loss was a bit too much, and he missed, but only slightly.

Attack: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14

As his senses returned to him, he was, needless to say, a little addled. His mouth was filled with something now, and it tasted of metal. Oh wait, that's right, he'd bit the edge of his tongue rather deeply to cause that.

Gripping his scythe, he turned around, a bit slowly. Things sort of happened in slow motion. Sanira seemed to be having trouble swinging her weapon, and if he'd been able to hear, Nikola also looked as addled as he was. He couldn't hear much for a ringing in his ears, and the colors still faded from his vision every now and then.

Finally, the lights faded, and, although slow, a shadow pierced what appeared to be air. Fearn was... hugging something. He seemed to be preoccupied with whatever it was.

Oh that's right, they were fighting an invis- Fearn had the murderer in his arms.

With that thought, Shadrick swiftly raised his weapon, and charged the dwarf, making it a point to try and not hit his hands. On his first step near the dwarf, he spat the pint of blood that had collected in his maw, completely glazing both the Dwarf and the bastard in his arms.

And then he brought down his weapon.

Scythe Attack: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (15) + 10 = 25 Damage: 2d4 + 6 ⇒ (1, 4) + 6 = 11

He cleaved as he spat, and he spat as he cleaved. The pain in his tongue invigorated him, and the sight of so much blood, whether it was his own or not, still excited him. He'd be even more-so if they could finally tear a bit of life's nectar out of this irritating killer of women... Who knows. When everyone had left, he might even do a little torturing of his own.

Free Action: Spit
Standard: Attack
Move: Move

Please tell me I'm no longer stunned @_@

One of the best parts about being evil: F$~# everyone and run.

Well we haven't taken any damage, really. Ilquis hasn't done any damage at all, and this shadow probably won't be that bad.

if it is, tail it.

Will Save: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (1) + 0 = 1

F$~#. Everything.

Forgetting the ritual sight entirely shadrick hurries quickly across to the vats, hoping against hope that there wasn't anyone inside and that he'd merely planned on them becoming ritual fodder. The torture implications of the room unsettled him, and he really had wished that they hadn't been used on women.

Speaking of women, the woman in the room presently with the tallowthroat issue worried him as well, but that was a mere moment for later.

Move action to go over to the vats, as well as a standard perception to check what's inside.

Looking inside, Shadrick was concocting a plan with all of this. If there were people in here of vital importance, he would likely provoke Ilquis's Ire, which was good, because at that exact moment, he'd bitten his tongue deep, causing a gout of blood to start filling his mouth. If the creature was in that light, he'd hoped that the coming spray would reveal him.

He could only hope, of course.

Swift action to bite the f++* out of my own jaw/tongue.
You're up, Dwarf.

*facepalm*

God dangit I knew Viluki would be the death of us...

That said, I have an idea, but it's stupid to the point of no return, even if shadrick is the only one that would possibly even consider it.

I was considering having him bite his tongue as hard as he can to get a nice mouthful of blood out of it, and when I find a place I THINK he's in, spitting that out to try and lower his concealment.

The invisibility doesn't seem like the invisibility spell, as he loses it in darkness, so I figure the blood will just show up on his body.

Shadrick stands aloof, for a moment. While he is angry, and just recently made a death threat, he can't see Ilquis, and the blaring light in his eyes is infuriating. For it to be this... "Walker in light" thing, he realizes that the lights do in fact need to go... but destroying each and every single one would be tedious...

Then something sort of hit him... Sacrifices? The two people with Tallowthroat were negligible, and he felt the need to not worry about them at all, really, and merely hoped they didn't pop while the fight was about go...

That's when his eyes landed on the vats and the ritualistic processions...

While his knowledge of the religions didn't share that of his fellow faithful, he did have one thing going for him, at the least.

Torturer profession to analyze the room to see if it'd been used for it, and if so, what was: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10

While he dwelled on that, it was all too obvious that those vats seemed kind of important, but he was more worried about the ritualistic bits, and so made it his point to remove those.

Moving forward a few feet into the room, he cracked his whip in an arc, attempting to befuddle whatever lay on the floor that seemed particularly cumbersome and necessary. [dice=Attacking the "Altar"]1d20+7[/dice] Damage: 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6

He'd honestly hoped that messing up whatever processions he'd been planning would garner his attention, and ultimately make him easier to hit...

While he did this, he yelled; "If he's hidden, I'll just simply break what's visible! Check the vats! They might have survivors in them!"

Initiative: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20

Immediately grabbing his whip in anger at the fact that he'd lose himself for such a silly reason, Shadrick can't help but be furious at the situation.

"When I get my hands on you, I'm going to wrench your head from your body you foul creature! Show yourself you pitiful fool!"

Tossing a hand up in front of his face as the glare hits the room, Shadrick can't help but think that's a bit unnecessary. Regardless of the matter, he's in the prescence of a murderer, which under normal conditions, wasn't that bad. However, he'd comitted the grave sin of killing a woman, and that burned him quite a bit...

Perception check to find Ilquis's voice: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (19) - 1 = 18

As always, he isn't too perceptive, a problem he'd hoped to rectify in the future, but alas... He wasn't able to find him.

He stood idle, rage slowly boiling, hoping to find the other women he'd likely kidnapped...

Shadrick knew little to nothing of magic, save for that of enchantment, and as much as he liked the idea of that, he couldn't ever learn it, if only because he lacked the required interest. He'd rather hunt down ladies, of course. That said, he enjoyed the body double, and actually made it a point to search it for anything wrong with his armor.

Giving into his own vain, however, he made it a point to swing his weapon a few times, if only to admire his own handywork.

Smiling a bit, if only for a moment, he looked back at the witch; "As enjoyable as this is, we never took the opportunity to thoroughly search this place... and no doubt, that fey is most likely beyond this room, and I'd love to... see it dead."

Shadrick seemed to have a revelation in the middle of that sentence. "Fearn, what if this thing has been causing all the disappearances?.. To hell with it, let's just ask him ourselves. See if that key works, and get ready for an ambush. He probably heard us coming..."

Shadrick rubs the back of his head, rather bermused at the sight. "And they said filth fever was bad..." That said, women dieing wasn't something he took easily, as it was very saddening to him. Of all the things, this, right? This.... "Ilquis" was certainly in for something awful.

"If this... Fey, or whatever, has anything to do with this "Tallow Throat" I want to personally kill him myself." he said, making sure to look at Fearn when he did. "What say your laws against vengeance, Dwarf?"