Riven looks about the finely room they all have been gathered in. He moves over to Darius and places a hand on his shoulder, "You fought well lad. How do your wounds feel?"
Darius smiles up at the tall warrior, "I will be okay, Riven. Still a bit dizzy though."
After quickly downing one cup of tea, Darius still feels chilled. He pours himself another and this time also pours an extra and brings it to Riven.
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Riven turns to the priest who healed Darius, "Thank you again, I am Riven Golarsson...and since we are all stranded within this room perhaps you have some bandaging for my wounds?"
"Better than that! A side helping of divine vigour, though do not shout about it, since it is my last."
"As for bandages, I am sure they will not miss some of these doilies, tablecloths and anti-macassars. And we have an urn of hot water for cleaning our wounds."
"Who is the brawny fellow? From his demeanor, I would guess he has been here before."
"Who is the brawny fellow? From his demeanor, I would guess he has been here before."
Riven feels the healing energies enter his body bringing and end to many of his more severe aches. "Thank you", he turns to the room sighting this 'brawny fellow', "I do not know."
Riven takes the tea from Darius, "Thank you lad," turns to the priest, "Darius is the only one here I know and that is just recently."
Hague wanders into the huge building only very reluctantly, sticking close by the side of the priest who'd healed him--profoundly uncomfortable and twitchy. It was a very different thing, rallying to the gates of parliament, than it was to actually force our way into the building. He winced at his every squelshing footstep, seeping mud and grime onto the polished floors. He touched his face, smeared around the blood that lingered there though the wounds beneath had closed miraculously. He watched as a similar wonder was worked on the tall swordsman. He clenched his hand into a ball, slipping into a reverie until with a jolt he notices how far from the priest he has drifted. Quickly he slipped across the room, back to the priest's side.
He passed the tea table spread, feeling a little sick inside, last thing he wanted was to soil their nice tea sets--or accidentally break something. He couldn't find the noble he had dirtied during the combat outside, and was glad of it. That was the last attention he needed, already so out of his depth, sopping mud and gore in a building he was certain he had no business in.
Finally he found himself flanking the priest, still absently rubbing the spot in his arm that had been pouring out blood from the spot where the sharp end of his forearm bone had popped through the skin. He waited nervously to get the cleric's attention. He tried to sift and roll over the jumble of feelings and questions in his head, his face long and perplexed.
"Your god healed me? I...still don't understand. Why would your god take notice of me?" Hague's hand went up to his nose, rubbing the spot where it was nearly severed, almost bitten off by the creature in the street, now whole and intact. "So...owing your god what I do now. What do I do? I don't even know which god it is to whom I owe my debt..."
"By gad!" Hellard states, sipping the tea with his customary air of disdain. "They could have at least set out brandy! This rambunctious slaying of zombies is thirsty work."
Lily enters the room seemingly in a daze. She does not scan the room with her eyes or gawk at the opulent trappings of the Parliament building. She seems distant, distracted even, as if listening carefully to something though nothing can be heard.
Finally, as the healing is being doled out and Hellard's statement about brandy is uttered, she seems to snap out of it, shaking her head slightly and seeming to realize where she is. Her eyebrows knit together and her eyes quickly dart to the others in attendance. She says nothing, and glances over her shoulder at the doors they had just entered through, sighing slightly.
"Well." The big noble actually seems a bit out of sorts; maybe it's the damage to his clothing, or his bedraggled appearance. Certainly he seems to be showing no after-effects of the battle. (Those with experience with wounds know that he's hiding them with some effort, but it's still an impressive performance. Having never before seen nobles fight in the streets, you're uncertain if that's common to nobility, or peculiar to this particular man.)
"I suppose I shall have to speak up here! My name is Hellard, of the House of Byzenkampf. I know nothing of zombies, mind you; I was on my way to a rendezvous elsewhere when this nonsense erupted, and good taste (not to mention the onus of station) prevented me from skirting the issue. No matter.
"What I know is this: those of you in this room comported yourselves far above your apparent stations, and far better than the useless guards, who even now are nowhere to be seen! I cannot raise your estate by myself; a consensus of the Quality is needed for that, and my fellows seem to have missed out on our recent escapade. But I will offer this: I'll speak on your behalfs, and try and look out for you in the future.
"But to do that I need to know who you are...
"m'lady," bowing slightly to Lily, "Would you care to begin?"
Darius listened to the nobleman's pompous speech about how well we did, even if we all were just serfs. He felt an immediate dislike for the man, but knew it was better not to let it show on his face.
As he began fawning over the woman, Darius turns back to those standing near him and says "An honor to meet you both," he nods to the priest and the sewer dweller, "My name is Darius." He extends his hand to Hague.
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"Your god healed me? I...still don't understand. Why would your god take notice of me?" Hague's hand went up to his nose, rubbing the spot where it was nearly severed, almost bitten off by the creature in the street, now whole and intact. "So...owing your god what I do now. What do I do? I don't even know which god it is to whom I owe my debt..."
"Truth be told, neither do I, nor even if the gods were involved.
I'm sure they have loftier matters to attend. I have more humble, and more reliable, allies to watch over me. Most likely some passing cherubim heard my request, and took pity on you."Thomas slices up a tablecloth with his sickle.
He then pours boiling water into a bowl, and uses the hot cloth to clean the bites on Hague's neck.
"I tried praying once; if I hadn't seen sense I'd still be on my knees. The gods help those who help themselves."
Thomas slices up a tablecloth with his sickle.
He then pours boiling water into a bowl, and uses the hot cloth to clean the bites on Hague's neck.
Riven listens to the speech of the wealthy...'always their way' he thinks to himself.
"Since you seem to be of some standing in Refuge, what do you know of the Hellsquad reforming?" Riven glances at the others to gauge their reaction to the Hellsquad...'hopefully the others have at least heard of this' he thinks to himself.
Riven turns to the others in the room, stands proud "I am Riven Golarsson. Seeing as how we are all placed in this room together we might as well introduce ourselves."
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"What I know is this: those of you in this room comported yourselves far above your apparent stations...
But I will offer this: I'll speak on your behalfs, and try and look out for you in the future. "But to do that I need to know who you are..."m'lady," bowing slightly to Lily, "Would you care to begin?"
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"I believe the girl is exhausted by her ordeal, and no wonder. She looks half-starved."
"I am Brother Thomas von Mandelbrot. Though that name will not open many doors here."
He uses a clean hot cloth to clear the detritus and blood from Pariah's face, then lays a blanket over her.
"What I would like to know is; why did the dead rise today? And why come here? Was there some visiting dignitary, or a critical vote, that needed to be interrupted?"
"Since you seem to be of some standing in Refuge, what do you know of the Hellsquad reforming?" Riven glances at the others to gauge their reaction to the Hellsquad...'hopefully the others have at least heard of this' he thinks to himself.
"What's a hell squad?" asks Darius. Noticing his questions have caught the other's attention, Darius smiles awkwardly, "Oh, ...umm, my name is Darius."
"Hellsquad was an organizations formed a few years back. Not exactly sure if it was under the watch or not though. And I really don't know exactly why it was disbanded. However there have been several rumors about Refuge saying it may be reforming." Riven turns to the priest, "Perhaps that is why the dead have chose this day to rise?"
Riven turns his attention to the nobleman, "Then again our Nobleman here has stated he was headed to a meeting, perhaps that was the meeting?"
She pushes the priest's hand aside, taking the cloth and tending to her own cleanliness rather than have another do it for her.
"My name is unimportant. The person I once was is no longer. Call me what you wish," the woman's face darkened as she spoke in response to Hellard. "I am grateful for your attention, but it is unnecessary. I have battled these creatures for some time now. Never before have I seen so many at once, though. Does anyone know where they are coming from? Why so many have turned out lately? And what is this Hellsquad you speak of?"
She cast her glance to the others, particularly the hulking warrior.
Riven turns his attention to the nobleman, "Then again our Nobleman here has stated he was headed to a meeting, perhaps that was the meeting?"
Hellard nods politely to the others' introductions, obviously trying to set them at ease . Noting the others' interest in this 'Hell Squad,' he studies the northern warrior carefully, grinning at the man's innuendo as if they share an inside joke, and replies, "Well, I may never know what that meeting would have brought; it seems to be a 'dead' issue! But really, you have me at a disadvantage. I have no knowledge of any 'Hell Squad,' only the stories that nannies tell to frighten children.
"But then again, if all zombies are as feeble as the ones we just dispensed with," airily waving his teacup, "then it would seem that no special squad should really be needed to deal with them. You alone accounted for... how many of them?
"Pshaw!" he adds. "I nearly think we've a better Hell Squad in this room than anything from the nannies' stories!"
Riven stares back at (Pariah), "There are dark women like you in my homeland and tales of the past with abilities like yours. My father told me these stories. We called them Witch!" Riven looks about quickly at the others as if waiting for reactions from those here, "The Witch's were not kindly to my people and some of the ancient legends say they brought about the great snow that now blankets most of my homeland."
"Their magic's brought about new sickness to my people and through the Nature Seer's were my people able to stop the sickness. If call you what I wish then I will call you Witch. And if you prove to be of those Witchs of my homeland I will not let you blanket this place with their evil."
Riven pauses for effect, "But your color is not that of my homeland, so perhaps you may not be one of the Witchs...I pray that you are not."
"Her magicks destroyed many zombies today Riven." says Darius. "Besides there are worse things in this city than zombies... or witches."
A smirk crosses the woman's features. "'Witch' would likely not be far from accurate, northman. My abilities are not something I wished for, nor something I wanted, but they were rather inflicted on me like a disease. Rather than lie down and die to the ravages of my affliction, I've chosen to fight. Judge me as you will. My actions speak for me."
She coolly regarded the others in the room, raising an eyebrow as if daring someone to question her morals.
Hague took the youth's hand uncertainly, the priest still checking his neck for wounds. "Darius." he says quietly, with a short, awkward nod. "I'm called Hague."
He looks up with a wince, as the priests hands probed his injuries. Though his arm had reset itself and he was no longer pouring blood, he clearly was not as whole as he'd believed. As the dirt and gore are wiped clean he can feel the ragged edges of the wounds and what feels like it might be a tooth lodged in his cheek.
He tries to mull over what the priest is telling him...cherubim and not gods? He has to struggle to keep his head still.
"So...you do not know where your powers come from?" though it boggled him, the knowledge was also a tremendous relief. For the time being, it remained that he was safely outside the ken of powerful gods and their ilk.
...
As the man's ministrations turn to the young woman, the one whose powers to both control and incinerate the walking dead seem to have placed her at the nexus of the group's attentions, Hague finds himself divided. Part of him wants to remain safe, stick to the shadows--but he could not deny that she had done on his behalf. He would be dead if not for her.
Almost without thinking he finds himself standing by her side to defend her. "I don't know if this woman is a witch...or whatever she may be. I can't say I've seen power like hers, ever. I know that she risked her life to save mine out there, that I now live because of her. If her actions are to tell me what she is, then I would wish for many more of these witches of yours. In this city. In all cities."
By the time he was done, his hands were shaking. Then, like a blown out candle, his eyes lose their luster. He remembers himself and shrinks back against the wall, hand going back to favor his once broken arm.
"You speak the truth Darius. Her actions have earned her honor today." Riven turns to (Pariah) ignoring the cowardly shade hiding by her, "Your actions speak well of you this day. But how much in control are you witch? I pray you keep your honor Witch for without it you are doomed to Hel's embrace."
Her lip curls slightly at the implication that she may not be capable of handling herself.
"I have survived this affliction for years, northman," she snaps. "Should you discover that I have 'lost the way,' then you would do well to treat me like any of the other monsters out there. I would expect nothing less of you... or any of you. I am not accustomed to working with others. There are not many who would willingly take company with me."
"On my Honor Witch. On my Honor."
"I'd accompany you..." says the stinker from behind her, head down, voice almost a mumble. "I owe you."
"Master Zelluyan," the big noble says, quickly starting to help with the scrolls, then stopping when he realizes that wiping his hands on his clothes does nothing to make them any cleaner. The young nobleman chuckles, to hide his embarrassment at the state of his cleanliness. "Would that I'd paid better attention to your lectures, sir, for today's exercise for a moment almost seemed as if it might become dicey!" He adds, as an afterthought: "Forgive me; I brought no apple for you today."
The old man gives a look which indicates more clearly than words that the big noble has never brought an apple. If indeed he was ever a pupil of this Zelluyan, Hellard was evidently not exactly at the head of the class.
Hellard, unabashed, continues, "Allow me to present these worthies: the large Northerner is Riven; he swings a deadly blade. This enterprising lad is Darius, I believe. Here we have Hague, who may be somewhat in need of a bath, but his bravery is easily ten times as great as his stench, I'll personally attest. This small fellow I believe someone called "Breyr," though he's not yet introduced himself -- a surprise, given the volume of his amusing comments during today's festivities! The lady has given us no name, preferring to be mysterious, as is of course good and proper for a woman of her beauty. And meseems that you may already be acquainted with Brother Thomas?"
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"Oh dear! Quick, please, get those off the floor!" He cries in a deep, quavery voice, bending down to pick them up, which sends another of the tomes thunking heavily to the floor.
He beams apologetically at the lot of you.
"I'm so very sorry, could I- oh, there goes another- um, ask for some assistance?"
"Allow me."
Thomas stoops to retrieve the papers, and lays them on an nearby table.
"It has been a while."
Riven turns to the kindly old man and moves over to him, "Master Zelluyan allow me to ease your burden." Riven gathers some of the books from his arms, "were would you like these?"
Zelluyan gestures to the table the other scrolls and books have been placed on and Riven places the books there. He pulls out a chair for the old man and gestures for him to sit.
Riven gives a puzzled look, "O you mean the dead rising and feasting on the living. I can say we did our part."
"Do you by chance know why such an event just happened?"
"My youth was not fortunate enough to spend much time in the scrolls or texts Master Zelluyan, would you please be kind enough to explain what all that means? And what it would have to do with the Dead walking the streets?"
Riven nods to the mayor accepting the welcome invitation and takes a seat.
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At that point, the door to the Mayor's office opens, and a stern servant (the one who showed you in and never came back through this room, for the sharp-eyed) admits you, showing you to a semicircle of chairs laid in front of a palatial desk, behind which sits a large, jowly man- Mayor Reegan.
Thomas walks over to poke the fireplace, surreptitiously stuffs the remains of the offal-encrusted tablecloth up the chimney (), and goes to the meeting.
Slips in just before the last few people to go into the office--not close enough to the first people in to draw attention, not far enough behind to draw attention as a straggler. Once inside he tries to position himself amongst the others to be the least visable possible, using the others as tall grass against which to camoflage himself.
He looks particularly toadlike today, and glares at you all, then steps out from behind his desk and shakes hands warmly with Hellard. "Ye're a Byzenkampf, are you? Then be welcome, dear friend. The rest of you, too." He seems a little grumpy as he takes in the rest of you, including Zelluyan, with a sweep of his hand.
"I am indeed, Your Grace. And warmest greetings from my father -- he often laughs about the time you knocked the Chickle for a loop!"
Looking down, he adds, "I pray you can forgive me; I realize I'm hardly dressed for the occasion, but I carelessly allowed a bit of excitement today to interfere with my trip to the tailor."
Darius slips into the mayors office quietly while his elders make their introductions. He takes the seat that will provide him the best view of the scrolls that the old sage has brought with him. "Excuse me sir, do you need any help organizing those papers that you dropped?"
"Naturally, Master Zelluyan, we'll be most grateful for the benefit of your great wisdom."
As for internal command, that's up to you.
The big noble clears his throat; everyone is fairly certain he's about to make a pompous, bombastic delaration about the "obviousness" of appointing him leader. But it seems that maybe there's a bit more going on beneath the bluff exterior than just counting his wealth.
"Regarding internal command," he begins, eliciting sharp looks. "If I may, I'd like to nominate this fellow Hague here. We've all seen that his bravery is totally beyond question, and he seems to me to have no lack of perceptiveness or ability, or so it would seem. Certainly, Brother Thomas would advise him closely regarding the perils we face... Naturally, outside of the Squad, I'll still be a member of the Quality, and not him, but for purposes of Squad business, I should like to see him in command. Anyone else in favor?"
Lily remained coolly aloof the entire time, merely taking in the sights of the estate and the information she was being told. When Hellard calls Hague out to be nominated as leader, she purses her lips slightly.
"In a situation such as we've found ourselves, I believe it makes the most sense that a leader should be the one most knowledgeable of the foes we face. No offense to Hague and his bravery, but it will require more than gusto and a strong arm to successfully lead an extermination squad. Therefore, I would suggest Brother Thomas as our leader. His faith and will seem strong and I doubt that he would be one to crumble before the legions of Hell."