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Harad shifts slightly in his chair, and looks toward Ara. "I think that this may be an excellent time to arrange for a meal for us all, to provide a peaceful setting for our continued conversation. We might even ask the two at the bar to join us. They may have the information on local conditions both Braxinbalivan and I may need to plan our next moves. There may even be something more palatable than Surly Pumpkin Ale for our pleasure."
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leave or stay, trust or not... you are wise to be wary, but are you young enough to still wonder?
"Beware, you are coming very close to asking a Lady her age!" She sighs, "But how could I possibly decline a moment of Serendipity? Or the cheese?"
She approves of Harad's suggestion, but adds "Those two? Oh, I'm sure they have information and may even plan their own next moves as you do. Anyway, a bottle of Sarain would match this perfectly".
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Brax rises, looking toward the bar, and states;
I am eager for news, if anyone else would like to join us. Mistress Ara, please deliver a bottle of wine, and perhaps some fresh stew... if its available.
Brax sits down, and produces five gold crowns from a hidden pouch within his tunic.
The Crusader Road to the south is ridden with bandits. I was lucky to arrive at this very inn.
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The tavern door swings open again. A man, slight of build and of middle years stands in the doorway, studying the throng of patrons. Beneath the clinging film of road dust, he wears a plain blue jerkin, tan leggings, and mid-thigh boots too caked with mud to discern their true color. A half-length cloak bearing the insignia of the local messenger's guild hangs awkwardly from his left shoulder and his worn velvet cap sprouts a sadly drooping feather, giving him the appearance of sporting a deflated bird upon his head.
His expression hovers between dutiful diligence and mild annoyance as he surveys the crowd, his fingers idly drumming on the box he holds beneath his left arm. The box is wrapped in sheets of vellum, sealed with wax, and covered with the same excess of road dust as its porter.
Having spotted Cyneric across the room, an eyebrow arches high upon the messenger's forehead. Hiking his parcel more snugly into his armpit, the man maneuvers his way through the room like someone who knows how. A moment later, he is standing at Cyneric's table, clearing his throat.
"Excuse me, Sir. Would you happen to be Cyneric?"
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Alk takes another gulp as moments of silence pass by, Cyneric apparently concentrating quite hard on his meal instead of the posed questions. As he waits a few moments, another man enters the tavern, and walks briskly over to Cyneric. Alk eyes him carefully, noting that the man doesn't seem to be of any harm; indeed, he seems to be a messenger.
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He looked to the dwarf's book with a hint of curiosity, wondering what secrets it might hold, but he didn't pry or press the dwarf. He wasn't sure just how much he should reveal just yet, of either his own understanding of the art, or other more pressing matters. "I have been around, I run a venture company of sorts, we are new to these parts, and have operated more in Galt in recent years. Though we figure it's about time to make a bigger name for ourselves in the River Kingdoms, easier work I suppose." He said all rather plainly as if it wasn't all that interesting of a story.
As he saw the new person walk towards him with a parcel under his arm, he nodded expectantly. "Yes, that's right. I hope it wasn't too hard to find me? The journey was quite long, and I was worried that I might miss you." He reached into his coin pouch to hand the man his fee. "Care for some food sir? It's the least I can offer for such prompt delivery." He said as he reached for the package.
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Alk nods at the mention of Galt; a place he himself had never been, but that most anyone in northern Avistan had at least heard of. He says, "Well I don't think you'll find much easy about these Kingdoms, but you'll have plenty o' work an' opportunities. Man can make a lot o' coin if he's careful an' plays his cards jus' right." Alk speaks as one who knows the area, a wistful glint in his eye.
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The messenger counts up the coin with a practiced glance, then hands over the parcel. "Thank you for the offer, Sir, but I'm overdue for other deliveries as it is," he answers with a weariness that leaves little question of his sincerity. He gives a short bow, spins on his heels, and weaves his way out of the mix as deftly as he had entered.
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"Yes I imagine that's true, and I hope to do just that." He said as he eyed the box, leaving it unopened at least for the moment, prying eyes and all that. "Work was easy to come by in Galt, every day there was another battle to fight, and we were all too happy to fight it for them. What about you? Are you new to these parts as well?" He wondered if he could get more information, about who might be wanting to hire his crew.
He would then nod to the man, as his offer was declined. "Good day to you then sir, I appreciate the prompt delivery."
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Alk takes another gulp as Cyneric dismisses the messenger, and then replies to with, "Ah, I guess I'm green 's far as dwarves 're concerned; only been here but a year an' a half. Been enough t' get my feet 'n the water an' learn the local scene a bi', though." Alk motions for a refill on his tankard. He seems to be unconcerned now with the rest of the patrons, apparently mollified by his previous sweeps of the room.
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Kaðlin wipes the remnants of the awful tasting stuff that had been given to her and stood. Björn was still asleep under the table, so she kicked him again for good measure. Whatever was in that brew was as bad as drinking downstream from the privy, but it did seem to clear her head quickly.
She patted behind her to ensure her sword was still in its scabbard and looked around for the fellow who had done her such a kindness. Spying him at a table with a couple of others, Kaðlin headed his way.
Though the small group was talking animatedly and quietly together, Kaðlin stooped down a bit next to the kind fellow. He was big enough to be considered a real man where she came from, so she already thought better of him than most around here.
"Many thanks, good sir. My da used to say, 'Many are wise after the event,' and I must say that I feel much wiser this mornin' than last night." She slapped the big fellow on the back and said, "You'll be allowin' me to buy your meal and next drink, then?"
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Harad smiles at the the finally mobile barbarian and says "I am sorry for the bitter taste, but those are the best herbs for cutting through the bile coating the tongue as a result of ... choices. Your prone friend will find it more so as the bitterness only increases as the draft cools."
Indicating the others at the table "Please allow me to identify Foxglove and Braxinbalivan. We were about to discuss the various threats within the local area, and to partake of some food and refreshment. Would you care to join us for any or all of the three? This would allow you to make good your offer."
He looks at Foxclove "Maybe you could persuade those at the bar to join us, even if the illustrated gentleman seems to have already delt with the issue of food."
To the rest at the table he says "I do have some questions to ask all of you regarding the local indigenous ... problems... that may become an issue."
As he speaks he removes a small cloth covered object from his pack. "I have come across something that caught my interest, mainly because of the aggressive nature of those I found associated with it. I am interested if any of you have come across one before."
He slowly unwraps the cloth to reveal a small statue.
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Kaðlin pulled a chair from a nearby table and straddled it, nodding amiably at Foxclove and Braxinbalivan. She stared intently at the proffered statue and shook her head. "I am not from hereabouts, and though I have been here a-whiles, I've never seen the like. It is as if though some idiot tried to give a kraken legs!"
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"Maybe you could persuade those at the bar to join us, even if the illustrated gentleman seems to have already delt with the issue of food."
She bows her head at the newcomer and makes a mental note to learn what that oh so useful herb is.
On the way over to the bar she passes the sleeping Björn and casually pushes the point of her boot against his exposed jugular "You should listen to your wise friend and finish your drink!"
She approaches Cyneric and Alk: "Sir, are you the leader of the company from Galt? The Andorean and the Keleshite would like to invite you over to join our discussion. I believe..." As she speaks, they see a gold coin flash between her fingers, then it is gone "...you may find it interesting."
She does not even glance at the box, but instead looks over Alk from top to toe "And you as well. Yes, very.".
She moves towards the woman by the fire but does not approach unless invited.
Coming back to the table, she hears Kaðlin's remark and softly echoes "an idiot indeed...". She frowns at the statue, as if trying to remember something.
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"I see that I still have a lot to learn about the lay of the land here, perhaps you can enlighten me sometime of how the River Kingdoms operate sir?" He said as he was soon interrupted by one of the women he had noticed earlier, he hadn't bothered listening in, and so he didn't catch her name. Though as she mentioned part of what he said to his dwarven companion, he didn't seem quite surprised, just his usual ho hum sort of self. "Is that right? Well, how can I turn down an offer of interest then? It would be impolite no?"
He stood up and brushed himself off, as he walked over to the crowded table, taking a seat as he looked at all the different people gathered. "So what's this about a discussion? I hadn't been eavesdropping on peoples conversations like others, so I am unaware of what it is that you are all talking about."
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"I see that I still have a lot to learn about the lay of the land here, perhaps you can enlighten me sometime of how the River Kingdoms operate sir?"
Alk nods with a smile as he starts, "Well, maybe I..." He is shortly cut off, however, by the appearance of a redheaded woman who makes an invitation to Cyneric. The rest of his setnence dies in his throat as he listens to what the woman is saying.
"And you as well. Yes, very."
Alk seems a little perplexed by the invitation. On the one hand, polite that he should at least be invited when they're interrupting his conversation; on the other, it seems like Alk is being treated like an afterthought. He feels his Dwarven blood begin to boil with vain indignation, but keeps himself in check as he always does and mumbles, half to her and half to himself, "Well, I wouldn't wan' to be imp'lite..."
He stands from his barstool, hefting his pack quickly onto one shoulder and grabbing his newly topped off ale with that hand while he daintily grabs the vellum pile with the other. He walks in Cyneric's wake, awkward and off-balance as he tries to sip from the ale tankard whilst keeping the pack on his shoulder and walking at the same time. However, he accomplishes the task and arrives at the larger gathering with a bit of ale foam in his moustache.
Alk stares at the presented statue as he sets down his ale and pack, keeping the vellum on his lap this time and saying nothing until someone greets him. He concentrates on the statue, tracing its slightly unnerving curves with his eyes and admiring its craftsmanship. Something about it makes Alk's skin crawl, though he can't quite say what it is. After a few moments Alk notices the foam on his face and quickly swipes it away with his now unoccupied tankard hand, a bit of embarrassment evident on his face as he does so.
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Harad greets the two newest arrivals to his table. He introduces those already seated. He has overheard the messenger refer to the illustrated man as Cyneric. He greets the dwarf and asks him to identify himself.
These formalities complete Harad motions to Ara. She takes their orders for food and drink and returns to the bar, slowly shaking her head. Harad tells the assembled his story of how he came into possession of this suspect statuette.
"I have spent months traveling from my home in Katapesh. I was able to take ship in Taldon from Cassomir to travel up the Sullen River. I have changed vessels several times but mostly walked along the Sullen. Eventually I arrived at Riverton in Galt. I was warned in Riverton of the Marsh Giants operating out of Wilewood. They had raided Riverton several times in the recent past.
"But now I was faced with a dilemma. Should I follow the West Sullen or take the Sullen main branch north. I knew I wanted to get to this region in the northwest of the River Kingdoms but really knew nothing about any of the kingdoms to guide me in my choice. I finally decided to take the West Sullen as it was the most direct route. I found a trade vessel bound for Maashinelle in Lambreth and departed.
"The crew was experienced on this stretch of river and we avoided any trouble from the Wilewood. Once in Maashinelle I began to make inquiries about my next path. They told me that I can pick up the Crusader Road from Lockridge as it is the last real port going north. It is situated at the foot of some very large rapids, hence the road starts from there to circumvent that hazard.
"I was also told that if I left Maashinelle by the Tolemaida River north, I could cross the Raven Bridge at Sezgen and travel the road to Daggermark, where I could take the Dagger Road and bypass the dangers of Scrawny Crossing and Mosswater. I had heard tales about Daggermark and decided to take my chances with the Crusader Road. I made my way to Lockridge to begin what I hoped would be my journey's last leg. I had been traveling several days on the Crusader Road north from Lockridge when had an unfortunate encounter with some dwarfs. No disrespect intended Alk.
"These dwarfs seemed to have been digging for something along the banks of the river, but as I was approaching them they suddenly fell upon one another with their weapons. It was a ferocious battle, although it ended quickly, and left only one survivor. When I tried to help him he grabbed my robe and said 'The water. The One uses the Water!' He died immediately after this cryptic utterance. As his body relaxed into the peace of death his other hand fell from his chest and his fist opened to reveal the statuette before us now.
"Being suspicious of our little novelty here, I wrapped in a specially prepared vellum that I use to preserve herbs away from light and air. I have been wanting to find some one with magical or divine skill to help me understand all of this. This is indeed a curiosity."
"What do you all think?"
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What do you all think?
"That you should thank Desna for finding a divination Professor in these lands. That if you're trying to sucker me into some crazy adventure, you're doing it right. That I wouldn't let my horse drink the water there without a ward against evil."
"And that a shovel or pickaxe is hard to use one-handed, yet the one holding the swag won."
"Did you check the other bodies? Were they killed by shovels or were there signs of magic? Did they carry any identifying marks? Treasure map? Cryptic letters? Who was the leader? Did you see anything else in the dig, maybe pottery shards or wooden boards? What were they looking for and how did they know where to dig?"
She sits back in the chair, seemingly exhausted from all the thinking.
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May I hold the object?
Brax reaches out to accept the object from Harad Navar.
Whispering a few words, he slumps in his chair, his closed eyes racing back and forth. The air around him seems to cool, and the light within the tavern dim's to almost nothing. The effect lasts only a few seconds, but to those watching it seems much longer.
With a tired voice, Brax shares; "a ring of hooded figures in ritual under the moonlit sky... a broken tower in the woods... the sound of river fast flowing over rocks, the smell of decay and blood ...and sadness..."
His eye's opening, a shocked Braxinbalivan exclaims, " I think I know where this is".
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Björn grunts as a boot hits his jugular. With bloodshot eyes, he looks around the room from the vantage point of the floor. Seeing Kaðlin across the room, Björn grabs ahold of the table to stumble up. Seeing a drink on the table, and thinking it is more ale, he grabs the mug and downs it in one shot. Then the most peculiar expression goes over his face, "I don' know what dat was, but it wasn't ale." He quickly looks around and sees the bowl of water, grabbing it he takes a drink and swishes his mouth out trying to get the cloying taste out of his mouth. Spitting the mixture of water and horse manure back into bowl, Björn checks to see if all of his equipment is still with him. Seeing that it is, and noticing that Torag has stopped using his head as an anvil, he proceeds over to where Kaðlin is talking.
He will reach down and grab her shoulder, "What foul concoction did ye leave on dat table? It was vile, by Erastil!"
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Alk's expression takes the form's you'd expect it to with such a story; he's first intently interested, his mind begins to wander around the middle while Harad is still talking about travel, and then he comes back at the scene of the dwarves fighting each other. A small sweat breaks across his brow as Harad describes the scene, and once the story is finished Alk looks at the ominous statue and sends a quick prayer to Torag.
As the professor reaches for the idol, Alk unconsciously reaches toward his hand to try and stop him, but as he is nowhere near the other man it does not accomplish much. After a tense second or two of posing with his arm outstretched, watching the man at his work, he relaxes, content the man isn't going to go on a murderous rampage. Alk licks his dry lips and says to the gathered party, "What, 're ye crazy? A whole buncha dwarves fight each other to th' death for that thing, and yer just carryin' it around? I hope y' realize that dwarves wouldn't be fightin' each other unless they had a damn good reason, 'r unless they were under some kinda magic. Why'd you picked th' cursed thing up after all tha'?!?" Alk is sweating even more now, his accusing finger pointed at the statue. He seems shaken by the story and the presence of the statue.
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He will reach down and grab her shoulder, "What foul concoction did ye leave on dat table? It was vile, by Erastil!"
Kaðlin points to Harad. "Twas not I who left you that toothless swill, brother, but this one. You should be thankful, though, for if it works on you as it did on me, you're head should quit clanging right enough. Now be quiet for a moment. These learned people, I think, are about to point to something worth fighting."
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Areks walks over to Björn and Kaðlin drapping is arms around both their shoulders. Ale sloshes over slightly from the two mugs in his hands.
I see ya've woken him. Now can ye either of ya tell me where the Warsteins are? We are a good bit into our ale reserves. Its somethin their caravan was supposed to be rectifying.
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Harad stiffens when Brax reaches for the statue; he notices Alk's aborted jesture but keeps his focus on Brax. After the arcane display finishes he listens to Brax intently. After looking at the new arrival with a measured eye, he turns to the rest and says;"I have not been direct with all my information. I need more than just pretty blades," looking at Foxglove, "or large ones" as he looks at Kaðlin. "I will need competent blades of both body, mind, and faith if my suspicions are true."
"I had left the road and moved into the trees meaning to get closer to the river. I try to not to leave my required maintenance for someone to discover. It has been used against me in the past. I hear dwarf voices in a repeating chant in the distance and changed direction to get closer. I began to see more and more worked stones within the bracken, covered with vines and dirt. They were not so much like the remnants of a road as the debris from a long past explosion."
"As I got closer to the voices they stopped. When I saw a borderline of brush that normally forms at the edge of a clearing, I began to move more slowly and quietly. As I got close enough to see, I found what appeared to be an excavation site among a ring of worked stones." Looking at Brax he says, "I was looking for some confirmation of skill and you have certainly provided that."
Returning his attention to the whole group he continues. "I found 9 dwarfs standing around several holes in the ground with picks and shovels scattered around them. Eight of them were staring at the ninth which was emerging from one of the holes carrying a small object I could make out. He appeared to be a priest of some sort but of which god I could not be sure. He moved off to one side and faced them holding the object high over his head. He began to chant, and very quickly the rest of the dwarfs began behaving oddly. Some stood numbly where they were, some began to fight those closest to them, others seemed to start tearing at their eyes."
"As this began the ninth dwarf started chanting again. Suddenly a pillar of fire came down from the sky covering the rest of the dwarfs. It struck down all but one, who rushed the ninth to attack him with his ax. The ninth was struck a mighty blow, but in doing so the attacker fell. The ninth staggered a few steps and collapsed. I approached him causally and as I knelt by him he grabbed my robe and uttered his mystery."
"The ninth and the rest were beyond my aid so I buried them in the grave like holes they had prepared. I searched the ruins but could not discover any identifying marks, runes, or symbols. Granted such work is beyond my experience, but this mystery troubled me greatly. I took precautions to wrap the statue without touching it. I have able to have a magic user cast detect magic on the figurine, but no arcane or divine magic was found. I could not detect the application of any substance that could have poisoned the holder or caused mental aberration. All that was left was to make my way here to find others who might shine a clearer light on this."
"That is all I know. My dreams have been troubled of late but I have not been able to identify by what they are troubled. This is a mystery that is certainly beyond my abilities to fathom. I am open to your suggestions."
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Xeen grabs his bags and heads to his room.
The door opens with practiced caution. As Xeen looks into the dark room to make certain it is unoccupied, his keen eyes spot a fleeting shadow along the sill of the single window.
((OOC: Just to make certain readers don't think I'm taking liberties with stating what Xeen's actions are ("...looks in the room..."), Xeen and I conversed via PMs and permission was granted to put this in motion. I am always very careful not to write what others see, hear, do, think/feel, etc.))
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The growing clamor rouses another of the Talking Head's residents. With long, languid motions, a large black cat rises up from her nap atop one of the ceiling rafters. Her flanks rise high in tandem with the deep, exaggerated stretch of her front limbs as she rakes the smoke stained timber with near erotic passion. With an unhurried gate, she passes along the elevated thoroughfare, noting each new patron with something hovering between mild disdain and lukewarm interest before dropping down onto the bar.
The change in illumination brings out the nocturnal sheen of her green eyes. It glints off the two gold hoops in her right ear and accentuates the crescent moon above her left brow. Whether a natural scar, an intentional brand, or something more, it only adds to her mystique.
As the number of voices from Harad's gathering grows, she seems to eavesdrop from her perch. After a gruff pat from Ara, she hops to the floor, nimbly avoiding the stumbling feet of a drunkard, and ends up near the crowded table. A moment later, she's rubbing against Kadlin's thigh.
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Alk looks gravely serious. Though he has studied some magic, the mystery of this statue seems to be over his head; some type of sacrilegious icon, but nothing he'd heard of before. He quells his desire to urge Harad to smash the statue; if he'd had plans to do so he'd likely have done it already before confronting a group of strangers about it. Since the human seems to be intent on discovering what it is this statue will do, Alk keeps to himself, waiting for someone else to take the initiative in remarking on the situation.
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Goblin Squad Member
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Xeen grabs his bags and heads to his room.The door opens with practiced caution. As Xeen looks into the dark room to make certain it is unoccupied, his keen eyes spot a fleeting shadow along the sill of the single window.
((OOC: Just to make certain readers don't think I'm taking liberties with stating what Xeen's actions are ("...looks in the room..."), Xeen and I conversed via PMs and permission was granted to put this in motion. I am always very careful not to write what others see, hear, do, think/feel, etc.))
I will rush to the window to see what has just left my room. Then of course followed by looking around to see if anything is out of place while I wait for my bath water to be delivered.
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Goblin Squad Member
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I will rush to the window to see what has just left my room. Then of course followed by looking around to see if anything is out of place while I wait for my bath water to be delivered.
As Xeen rushes to the window, there's a scrambling-tumbling sound beneath the bed, which is next to the window, like something tripped over an unseen object.
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Goblin Squad Member
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Foxglove looks over Areks for a moment, then returns her attention to the stautette.
"Looks like jade. But not valuable enough to kill your workers for."
Looking at Brax, she asks "Are there other kinds of magic? I mean except for the ones he tested it for already? Or ways to cloak it?"
She absent-mindedly feeds a scrap of food to the cat.
"The One uses the water... Could the priest have drugged the water? No, that doesn't sound right. Unholy symbol...unholy water... something evil in the water... Sea monsters? Maybe it is a kraken with legs after all, some kind of evil kraken god? Is there one?"
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Areks walks over to Björn and Kaðlin drapping is arms around both their shoulders. Ale sloshes over slightly from the two mugs in his hands.
I see ya've woken him. Now can ye either of ya tell me where the Warsteins are? We are a good bit into our ale reserves. Its somethin their caravan was supposed to be rectifying.
Björn will look at Areks, "I ain't seen them in a bit, might have taken on one of them bounties or something."
Kaðlin points to Harad. "Twas not I who left you that toothless swill, brother, but this one. You should be thankful, though, for if it works on you as it did on me, you're head should quit clanging right enough. Now be quiet for a moment. These learned people, I think, are about to point to something worth fighting."
Björn will go back to listening to the speaker and whisper to Kaðlin, "Ya might be right, sister, sounds like something to possibly look into."
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Harad seems to have been inattentive to those around him for a few minutes. He finally looks at the statuette as if he were considering it in a new light. He shakes himself, picks up the waxed velum wrapping, and begins to re-wrap the disturbing object. As he folds the last glimpse of it away, everyone seems to feel a tension leave their shoulders.
"I try not to have it out too long. When that happens I get the feeling that I am being secretly watched. It is a most unsettling feeling." He returns the object to his pack and turns back to his tea, but seeing that his mug is empty, he returns it lightly to the table.
Harad looks slowly at each of the people seated or standing around the table, his gaze stopping at Björn and Kaðlin. "I believe that you may be right."
With a deep sigh he continues. "For me, the path Irori is best seen in Sarenare's light. But all I have is a candle's light, and it only shows me my next step, then the next, then the next, while all else is dark. But by faith I chose to believe that the path, although unseen, is there and is there for a purpose. Those steps have brought me here bearing this mystery. From what I see around me, it seems that every thing needed to resolve this mystery is right here. It is even possible that we all have been brought here together by those powers that guide and protect us."
"I offer to lead those who will back to the where this mystery began for me." Looking at Brax and Cyneric, "There may be knowledge there that has not been exposed for many years." Looking at Alk, "There may certainly an opportunity to pay proper respect to the dead." Looking at Areks, Björn and Kaðlin "And, if I am not mistaken, things to defend against. Maybe even something that needs to be dispatched for the safety of all."
"I do not place on any here an obligation. I know that you have business of your own." Looking at Foxglove he says, "But you may find this ... interesting."
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Alk seems to be taken aback at Harad's suggestion for paying respect to the dead; he is appalled that he had not thought of the dwarves' burial rites. In one part of his mind he makes the excuse that the statue distracted him from the thought, but in another he rejects such an excuse.
Alk ventures a response after his long bout of silence. "I think ye're right, sir. Those men tha' died out there need ta get their proper burial. Though I ain't meself a Pharasman, I migh' be able t' set one up t' accompany us." Though he doesn't say so in as many words, Alk does seem curious about the affair himself. His eyes nervously drift to the pack that now contains the idol as the others get their say.
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Goblin Squad Member
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A shadow appears at the door, but no one seems to notice the crazy haired old man apparently deep in thought. By his body language you can tell he's trying to remember something.
After a few minutes he grins slightly with a look of recognition. You could tell he remembered why he came to this place.
At the top of his lungs he yells out, "Carnage is coming! Peace through fear! His will be done!"
He quickly disappears into the night laughing maniacally as he runs as fast as he can to the nearest group of people to spread his message.
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"I do not place on any here an obligation. I know that you have business of your own." Looking at Foxglove he says, "But you may find this ... interesting."
Hearing this, she unconsciously licks her lips.
"I'm interested. I can deal with low visibility. Secretly being watched doesn't turn me on though, so maybe you could cover that thing up again?"
"Carnage is coming! Peace through fear! His will be done!"
She shakes her head softly and mutters "That kind of thing was fun as a teenager, but at your age? It's not even a proper diversion"
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I will rush to the window to see what has just left my room. Then of course followed by looking around to see if anything is out of place while I wait for my bath water to be delivered.As Xeen rushes to the window, there's a scrambling-tumbling sound beneath the bed, which is next to the window, like something tripped over an unseen object.
Hmmm, looks like the shadow came in the window instead of going out of it.
Since I didnt say it, I most likely did not shut the door behind me. So, Im going to kick the door shut and then shut the window. Now I pull a chair to the corner of the room and have a seat.
Cmon out from under there, you have nothing to fear.
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Cmon out from under there, you have nothing to fear.
You hear a small voice, both nasal and raspy, and by it's tone, apparently annoyed, issue from beneath the bed. You can't make out what it's saying, but it seems to be arguing with itself.
"Fine!"
From under the edge of the quilt hanging down past the side rail, a small green face appears. Its black goat horns get tangled in the quilt for a minute, annoying it even further, until frenzied head shaking and flapping hands set it free. With a flustered flurry of wings, it leaps up and perches precariously on the footboard. An exasperated blow of air from it's toothy mouth dislodges a quilt feather that had stuck to its nose.
As it eyes you across the short spans, you notice a small, gold ring set with a red stone hangs by a chain about the Quasit's neck. It notices you noticing it and clutches the ring defiantly.
"Try it, bub."
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Goblin Squad Member
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((OOC: If you look to the right of that picture, you can access that particular artist's Deviant Art portfolio. I stumbled across it when looking for a decent picture of a quasit. I do draw, sculpt, and woodcarve, but that wasn't mine. A few of my pieces are a wooden gargoyle I carved for a friend and a drawing of Ronan Parke that I did for a guy who manages one of Ronan's fan sites.))
"Free, heh...yeah, sure," it replies, thickly sarcastic. "More like stuck on this stinkin' plane." It studies you for a moment, idly drumming it's talons on the ring. "Seein' as you ain't runnin' for the stairs, cryin' Demon - kill it - I'm guessin' yer not the paladin type. So you really care to hear why I'm here?"
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Goblin Squad Member
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((OOC: If you look to the right of that picture, you can access that particular artist's Deviant Art portfolio. I stumbled across it when looking for a decent picture of a quasit. I do draw, sculpt, and woodcarve, but that wasn't mine. A few of my pieces are a wooden gargoyle I carved for a friend and a drawing of Ronan Parke that I did for a guy who manages one of Ronan's fan sites.))
Nice work. Yeah I saw some of the other stuff in your first link.
"Free, heh...yeah, sure," it replies, thickly sarcastic. "More like stuck on this stinkin' plane." It studies you for a moment, idly drumming it's talons on the ring. "Seein' as you ain't runnin' for the stairs, cryin' Demon - kill it - I'm guessin' yer not the paladin type. So you really care to hear why I'm here?"
Paladins are usually hunting me as well... That is when they know who I am and what I do. Free, well I mean free from the control of a wizard. Your kind are usually brought to this plane by wizards. So yes, I am curious why you are here.
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Goblin Squad Member
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The growing clamor rouses another of the Talking Head's residents. With long, languid motions, a large black cat rises up from her nap atop one of the ceiling rafters. Her flanks rise high in tandem with the deep, exaggerated stretch of her front limbs as she rakes the smoke stained timber with near erotic passion. With an unhurried gate, she passes along the elevated thoroughfare, noting each new patron with something hovering between mild disdain and lukewarm interest before dropping down onto the bar.
The change in illumination brings out the nocturnal sheen of her green eyes. It glints off the two gold hoops in her right ear and accentuates the crescent moon above her left brow. Whether a natural scar, an intentional brand, or something more, it only adds to her mystique.
As the number of voices from Harad's gathering grows, she seems to eavesdrop from her perch. After a gruff pat from Ara, she hops to the floor, nimbly avoiding the stumbling feet of a drunkard, and ends up near the crowded table. A moment later, she's rubbing against Kadlin's thigh.
Kaðlin's hand drops to a dagger as she feels something brush against her leg, but looking down, she sees the cat. The hand at the dagger falls away and down to the cat's level. Kaðlin proffers it before the creature to allow it to sniff her.
"Well good-day to you, Kis-Kis, she says softly. Blushing lightly in spite of herself, Kaðlin tries to pet the cat. "What does the harbinger of love want with me this day?" she asks with a twinkle in her eyes and a wry grin.