Café de Nuit

Brock Marsh Runoff wrote:SEARCHERS

Renn flicks the ichor from his blades and cranes his head toward the oncoming noise of the enemy. "Let's get the hell out of here while we can! Should we leave our unconscious friend with a torch or two to play with? Might keep him from regenerating, and the smoke may aid our escape..."

The Marquis' eyes flick open. He groans. He lifts his hands, grabbing at the naked blade thrust into his sternum.

Nyisiendre shoves harder. The steel sinks inches deeper into the Marquis. He screams loud enough to deafen the bard and those standing nearby, shaking the floor under their feet.
Somewhere over the agonized wail, steel grates on stone.

And then everything falls silent for a moment. Everyone's hair stands on end as Saint Elmo's fire dances along the bard's sword and all other exposed steel within a spear thrust of the fallen Marquis.
Lightning erupts from the elf-demon's mouth and washes over the bard.
Thunder rips through the underground city. Rock chunks fall from far above, splintering on the floor.
The sudden blast of power grabs the bard and holds her in place. She cannot even let go her grip on the hilt; but she can scream.

The Orogs take up the elf maid's scream. Hundreds of them, all screaming and squealing and grunting at once.
They clash their weapons over their heads, capering about the weird cityscape. Now they have come so close that Cormac and the others without night vision get a disturbingly good look at the monsters. Some of the creatures hack down their fellow Orogs. The berserkers climb on the fallen ones and begin to violate the corpses in unspeakable fashion.

Cormac looks around for the human child he spotted earlier, trying to find it and snatch it up for a quick escape.

Adam wrote:Cormac looks around for the human child he spotted earlier, trying to find it and snatch it up for a quick escape.

The child emerges from the stone corral-like structure.
Cormac grabs the kid.

He sees his shambling, tentacled ally making for a certain alley, where no Orogs can be seen.
If he hurries , he can probably get there ahead of any pursuing enemies.

kintire wrote:Safana stares at him, slightly bemused, as he unleashes his conversation at her feet.

"Are you jesting with me? Have I been a bit vain? And what do you mean by True Mage? My apologies, good bard, but I am in my second language here. Anyway, the Crone seemed to be using Necromancy which is not my area of expertise, and which I know little about but she will have a reserve of arcane power which, after a time, will become exhausted. Also she will have difficulties if disturbed or engaged in..."

She stares at him again her voice trailing off.

"Why are you staring at my feet?"

Not looking up, he replies, courtly.
"I don't know the word used in these parts my Lady. True Mages are the handful of people that can use True Magic, unlike the usual mage that can use mostly spells that affect the mind and create illusions. Like the spells I will be able to learn once my understanding of magic progresses. I saw you turn to vapor my lady. I thought it was illusion at first, but then you passed under a door. That's no illusion.
That verifies that you have at the end of your fingers the power to forge, reforge or destroy the cosmos and all that you need is to reach and take it as your own understanding of magic grows. Unlike the Crone, that got her power through vile pact, which I expect has drawbacks, your power comes from within, from that spark of creation the Gods shared with the True Mages, elevating them above common men.

Since your potential is unlimited my Lady, while mine is not, it is proper that I give you the respect one should have towards those of your power. Having lived under the rule of True Mages most of my time, as did my father and his father before that all the way before the Gods led our ancestors to war, I know better than to offend you or any of your kind.
While you may not take offense at a mere human meeting your gaze, and my respect for you and your upbringing increases by that, another True Mage may be offended that I do. "

Termelan hesitates a bit and for a moment raises his eyes towards Safana's gaze before lowering them and continuing.
"If I may say so, since you seem so humble for a person of your station, I admire that you avoid spells that unnaturally manipulate the forces of life and death. I find such powers... unnatural."

"Come on!" the druid growls, "I think tha' thing's dead now. Bring its spear an' let's get outta here!"

He runs after the poo monster.

Searchers

Roald takes Reece by the shoulder. "Good job picking up that spear." He pushes his squire in the Cormac's direction. "Now follow the druid and his foul friend out of here!"

He turns to see the bard, still gripped by whatever fell power she unleashed. "I'll be right behind you."

Safana's expression changes to the half smile and raised eyebrow of one who is fairly certain she is the subject of bardic satire.

She slides smoothly to her knees and slips forward so that she meets his lowered gaze and resumes her Khinasi mode of speech.

"O my Lord and O the delight of my eyes and the enlightening of my mind, know that in my land it is the bard who holds all things in the palm of his hand, for what is a man or a woman but their reputation and honour in the eyes of their fellows, and who controls that but the bard? Therefore I implore you upon my knees, mock not my simple stumblings upon the shore of the sea of Art, nor advance them beyond their station, neither deploy thy satire in derision upon me for daring to hold myself worthy. For lo, I am but a simple magician such as those of which you spoke, as your illimitable wisdom and perspicacity has laid bare to you, your wisdom that penetrates to the heart of all matters and lays all secrets bare. Rest assured that I perceive my shortcomings most surely and do not hold vanity in my heart, though your jovial manner and pleasant aspect may have led me to undue familiarity with your exalted personage. Neither, I implore you, exalt the simple spell which I cast, though it be one of those more potent spells of the path of illusion that calls upon the realm of shadow to affect more puissantly this world of ours, being indeed the image of a true spell. For it is the least of these more puissant spells and is indeed an image only and suitable for a simple conjurer. Therefore accept my apologies for my vanity and withdraw the deadly lash of your satire from the most humble and abject of your servants!"

With that she slides back a little and bends forward, placing her hands palms down in front of his feet and pressing her forehead to the ground between them.

Varrus the Ethical wrote:Searchers

Roald takes Reece by the shoulder. "Good job picking up that spear." He pushes his squire in the Cormac's direction. "Now follow the druid and his foul friend out of here!"

He turns to see the bard, still gripped by whatever fell power she unleashed. "I'll be right behind you."

The party flees.

But a group of Orogs gives chase.

One of the creatures seizes the spear from Reece.

The other monsters stop their pursuit of the party to fight over the spear, shoving at one another, grabbing the weapon's shaft, and squealing what sound like curses or challenges.

Termelan is at first too stunned to react, so he allows Safana to continue speaking. But then, he also drops to one knee and whispers to her
"Lady Safana! We're ... people can see us. Perhaps stand up? Thank you for your kind words." He offers her his hand to help her stand.

"Is it true what you said lady Safana? That the spell was one of the illusion school?"
He seems quite relieved. He smiles. "You know what? I'll choose to believe it. I'm quite glad you're an uncommonly beautiful person of the common people madam and your land certainly sounds... interesting. Can you please stand up so I can buy you that drink I owe you and another one for making a fool of myself?

The particularly wise, for appreciating minstrels and bards, people of your homeland would know it is certainly easier to find information in duos. Perhaps you could tell me a couple of legends from your land, so I can retell them. To find out how these parts resisted the influence and attacks by the Manslayer in the past, it is best to share stories that put people in the mood to share a bit of history themselves.
What do you think?"

SEARCHERS

Cormac finds a place to stop for a second and check on the child.

"Are ye' all righ?" he says, "Who are ye? Were there other wee ones?"

Adam wrote:SEARCHERS

Cormac finds a place to stop for a second and check on the child.

"Are ye' all righ?" he says, "Who are ye? Were there other wee ones?"

The girl blinks away tears.

"I'm Anna. My friends aren't here. They are locked up in the closet, in HIS house. They tried to run away and HE got mad."

She whimpers. " Is HE really dead now?"

"Aye, we killed 'im. 'E cannae hurt ye anymore," he says, "But we should go an' find yer friends, if we can. Do ye know how to get there?"

The girl, Anna, opens her mouth as if to speak when a mailed gauntlet claps over it.
Boarhort lifts the child and slings her over his shoulder.
He trots past Cormac.
The clanking warrior whispers, "Talk later, run now!"

FIVE DAYS LATER

FILBERT
SAFANA
TERMELAN

The small party has been provided with a handful or servants and guards, such as Filbert requested, and a letter of introduction bearing the seal of the Duke.
Before departure, Sir Rory briefed Filbert about Caine.


After a couple of days on the keelboat, the party arrived at the impressive wharves of the Free City of Endier.
The obtain lodging and take a brief rest.

FILBERT sends a page to Falcon's Roost with one of the guards, to deliver a request for a meeting with Caine.

SAFANA goes with the page and the guard, riding out of town on a rented horse.
. ..

TERMELAN
asks about in the city, seeking information on the wizard and also taking the chance to stretch his legs and explore the settlement. He finds that the Free City of Endier is indeed larger than HAES, but still seems to be a modest sized city. Clearly this is not the great metropolis he had hoped to find, although the winter carnival going on livens things up.
Nobles--or maybe rich merchants--process in sedan chairs , peering out the windows at Termelan as they pass by the bard.
Masked revelers dance on street corners, drinking mulled wine or Brecht juniper spirits, and singing bawdy songs.
He interviews chestnut vendors, harlots, apprentice boys, workmen, and street sweepers, and almost all of them share a rumor or an opinion about Caine.

Caine is...


A Necromancer

A bastard of House Endier( teller uses a whisper for this, and denies believing it)

A former student of the Imperial College of Sorcery, expelled for dangerous experiments

A bitter enemy of The Spider King, ruler of The Spiderfell

Evil

Good

Young

Very old, but looks younger than he really is

Hospitable to guests, yet also suspicious and secretive

FIVE DAYS LATER

CRANSTEL

Making use of the clues he found after a couple of days searching in the archives, the apothecary has synthesized a sizable batch of what he hopes is a proper antidote for the foul necrotizing toxin of The Crone. He has enough to treat six poisoned humans.
Without testing it, he cannot be one hundred percent certain it will work.



Today, Priestess Idele calls on him at his shop.

"Cranstel, have you heard the news?"


He has not.

"Before dawn, a mob broke into the back of the WatchHouse and carried out six of the hooded gang. They lynched them in the street! And then they tried to burn the bodies. Somehow word of the Crone's black magic must have gotten out, because the people have been whispering more and more about it; grave robbery, dead men walking at night, that sort of thing. "
She takes a deep breath.
"But at least the weird spoiling of foodstuffs and beer seems to have stopped, so that is good. It does seem to me that this also hints that The Crone was responsible, thought it could be coincidental. What about you? Who have you come along since yesterday?"