Michael, running the bar, shoots a well-practiced look at any patrons whose lingering eyes edge toward downright rude. It's their first warning. Edward is not far away if they need a second.
Gorgeous this one. Confident. Expensively dressed. The leather says travel that need protection at times. Stock in trade of this place, as much as anyone. The tall blonde barkeep nods to her and meets her eyes.
"Ma'am. What can I get you?"
The beautiful woman looks to the blonde-haired barkeep as he speaks and smiles sweetly. “Well, thank you kind Sir for asking. You know a drinking establishment is top shelf when the ladies are not kept in a thirsty state.” She gives Michael a slightly seductive smile… the kind that leaves one wondering whether it was just a nice gesture, or perhaps something more. “How long have you worked here?”
A quirk of a smile. "Technically, pretty much my whole life." Helly pushes a crate of shining, wet, heavy glass mugs across the polished bar top and clips back to the kitchen. The barkeep moves the box behind the bar; a plush towel is selected from a few tucked over the strings of his apron, and he starts polishing each glass and sliding them, open side down, onto a low shelf. "Got some wine in from central Dregar, been a dry year on the vines so I hear it's very sweet. If you'd care to try."
She continues to smile, “Your whole life… that is indeed a long time.”
(Roll a 1d20 please. Your target is 20)
She purses her lips for a moment, a cute little pout is held, and then she says… “Well, I’ll tell you what. That sweet red wine sounds delicious. I love rum too, why don’t you just mix the two together… I’m sure it would be a delightful flavor and color.” She runs a finger over the wood grain of the bar top.
//two
Michael obligingly adds a shot of Corsanian rum into a glass of the purplish beaujolais and hands it to the woman with a smile. "On the house, ma'am."
“Well, well, that was unexpected… but I’m very grateful. My name is Ravana by the way.” Her gloved hand brushes his slightly as she accepts the drink. She smiles again as she takes a small sip from the glass. She looks thoughtful at that point, and as a bartender Michael’s people skills and intuitive senses pick up a slight trace of sadness... but as quickly as it appears it is gone. He cannot even be sure it was there to begin with.
The touch forces a nervous smile. He takes a step back, ostensibly to hold a mug up to the huge cartwheel chandelier's light and check it for spots, but in fact to have a look around the immediate vicinity. The mug seems to passes muster and his brief search ends with a slight drop of his shoulders. He licks his lips, thoughtful - not lewd - and sets the mug with the others. "So what's your story, Ravana. How'd you end up at the Silver Buckle?"
Tori returns from where she'd been checking into the economics and security of fixed-location portals, makes a round to see if anyone needed anything addressed while she was gone, and slides into a stool a few places down. She sets her unloaded crossbow in front of her, and leans against the bar to get a feel for the place while Michael's occupied. She typically takes no strong drink and doesn't draw much attention to herself, just sitting down signifying that she'd take something at some point. If acknowledged, she nods in return.
While the evidence of her last fight have mostly faded, she is on the best of days a shabby comparison to the nearby visitor, almost a study in contrasts. Her attire is plain, breastplate battered and likely a hand-me-down, and the only thing about her that tends to draw the eye is her crossbow. Her gaze passes over the woman at the bar without pausing, as it does over others in sight; quietly noting, mentally documenting, and returning to her thoughts.
She looks thoughtful for a moment and then says, “My children were missing. They lived in this city for quite a while. I travelled a great distance to find them. Unfortunately, I have discovered they have been murdered.” Michael does not sense the motherly concern he would have expected from one bearing the burden of that type of personal tragedy. “I’m just trying to decide what I am going to do about it.” She smiles at him and takes another sip from her unorthodox mixed drink. “But we should not dwell on that now.”
She looks about the establishment, taking in the music, speech, and laughter. “This is a very artsy establishment… A lot of gifted and talented people.” She then leans forward quickly with a small laugh and broad smile. “I’m a little artsy myself you know… I have an amazing drawing talent. You might even want to purchase one. Would you like a demonstration?”
A couple of nearby customers who Michael has been keeping his eye on because of how enamored they seem to be with the beautiful woman edge a little closer and urge her to show them her talents.
The beautiful woman notes Tori’s arrival and shoots her a smile and a wink…
His smile remains, but not quite as far as his eyes. The right corner of his mouth hangs higher than it's twin hovering under his left cheek. "Sure. Draw away. One of the owners is Ilsarian, anyway."
Noting Michael's expression at a glance without having heard the whole of what passed, Tori works at her things without intruding, whether vocally or physically. She pays more attention to their interaction to 'catch up', studying unobtrusively those that press close, measuring potential threats a force of habit. Tori nods at the woman when she's winked at, her expression unchanging; she doesn't try to posture or be threatening, just quiet as usual.
“Ahhh. Ilsarians, they are such delectable people... I think in another life I might have been one myself.” She gives her charming smile again and with a little laugh reaches into a red suede pouch on her belt and withdraws what is obviously a small artist’s kit. Michael and Tori have seen them very often among the Buckle’s regular patrons. She opens the case and they can see about a dozen pastel oil paint sticks of various colors and some charcoal wedges. Nothing seems out of the ordinary.
She chooses a charcoal wedge and begins applying lines and unrestrained strokes to the wood top of the bar. Michael knows it will not cause any damage, and if she uses the oil paint the fine wood grain will be adequately protected by the coat of varnish… it might take a little work to clean up though.
Her skills were obviously understated as she progresses and it is clear that she is very talented. The charcoal drawing begins taking on the discernable shapes of common forest animals at play, and several more patrons begin gathering around to watch her work.
Perhaps for no other reason than the drawing is being applied directly to some physical property of the building (which just from passing stories she's had cause to keep an eye on) rather than parchment or canvas, Tori's attention sharpens to focus more on the woman herself - from the physical, as her attire, jewelry, even the clasps of a cloak, to demeanor. She could be a pretty woman with a talent that simply enjoys the attention. It also remains always a possibility that other patrons (and Michael?) are drawn in for a purpose, and that the choice of canvas is not merely convenient. Tori, out of necessity being suspicious verging on the paranoid, merely watches her and her movements without overtly being rude, in an attempt to discern if there's anything more unusual than a pretty lady, or something that seems magical or off about movements or equipment.
//Not because of expecting anything to be up, merely listing in case it is needed, sad little 10 SC (cross-class trained, wears gear... still working on it, ok :P). Modified 20 wis, 16 int. Um. Favored enemy: human... what? It's not creepy.
//Tori - PM on the way..
A crowd gathers. He should stop her, but the work is just too skilled. Andy'll kick himself for not being here. The Buckle head of security - he doesn't know her well, she doesn't lend herself to knowing - is less enthralled. Good.
He lets the exotic woman draw and marvels at the rare display of talent along with the other patrons.
After a moment, her (visible) attention returns to her things, nothing having outwardly alarmed her. Weighing odds and employer reactions in her mind, she draws out a rolled piece of blank parchment, smooths it out, and then slides it over the bar in offering... slides it all the way over, in fact, smudging some charcoal and marring a bit the art. "Shame if you ain't able to take it with you, like," the first words she's offered since she sat down.
She looks blandly on at any offense taken. Maybe she's an art-hater. Or is jealous of a beautiful woman, or is genuinely offering assistance by providing a better canvas. Maybe not, too. There doesn't seem to be a lot of indication given.
Ravana was in the process of adding a few last strokes to what many would consider a masterpiece of art when Tori’s offer was pushed across the bar top and smudged the face of a cherub-like bunny rabbit. The bunny now had an elongated face and the teeth had become much more square and pronounced. Ravana smiled as she accepted the rolled parchment from the countertop and laid it on the other side of the drawing. Many of the customers began booing and muttering. A few insults were even directed toward Tori with angry looks… There were several comments about the disrespect of art, although there were no signs of physical violence. The beautiful woman smiled as she addressed the angry customers, “Now, now… It is nothing that cannot be easily fixed. Give the young lady a break. I’m sure she did not do it on purpose.” She turned back to the charcoal drawing and with a few deft strokes combined with some expert smudging and shading quickly returned the drawing to its former glory as she said to Tori, “I have many masterpieces youngling… this one is a gift for everyone here to enjoy for a while. No need for me to take it with me.”
As the compliments began pouring out of her growing crowd of new admirers and she appeared to be basking in the glory of their praise, she put her arms around two burly men who had elbowed their way to the front to watch and said “…and now for a final touch.”
//Roll 1d10 with no modifiers for Michael and Tori please...
//Three.
//Five
//Three
She bends over toward the drawing slightly exposing her bosom, to the glee of a couple of her more ardent fans, and blows a gentle long drawn out breath upon it. Immediately to her newfound fans the animal shapes begin moving, morph into three-dimensional constructs, and start interacting with each other in a cute and cuddly manner. The crowd is awed by this and there are shouts of pleasant surprise as they gaze in wonder at the spectacle. The half dozen little animated animals continue to cavort with each other as Ravana grins, then things quickly take a dark turn. The following is a description from several perspectives of the unfolding events and ensuing chaos… because for some reason, not everyone sees the same thing.
Michael: The little animals instantaneously take on a more sinister appearance, darkening to a jet black color with pinpoint glowing red eyes. They leap into the air and land on various people in the crowd, sinking into their flesh and disappearing. To your horror, one has landed on you in a similar manner. You dig at your arm trying to pull out the black chipmunk you can feel crawling around inside you. Minor lacerations begin appearing as your fingernails cut groves into your skin, some of them breaking off at the quick. The feeling of fear that grips you is overwhelming. You see the mouth of one of the nearby patrons stretch open to the size of hula hoop and black hornets fly out into the room in a dense cloud and start stinging everyone. Then you happen to glance at one of the patrons who has flung himself over the bar top. He is screaming “My eye is eating me! My eye is eating me!”… All the while stabbing himself in the eye with a silver fork. As he dies you notice there is nothing wrong with his eye. No indication it is “eating him.” Your own malady seems to dissipate as you recognize this.
Tori: The animals all roll into little balls and begin combining into a dark mass. The dark mass unfurls into a large black cobra that strikes out at two of the nearest patrons. It then turns to you and in a motion almost faster than the eye can follow strikes you, sinking large fangs into your hand. Your body immediately feels like it is burning from the inside out. You fall to the ground foaming at the mouth. Your head lolls to the side and your fading vision sees the man stabbing out his eye with a fork. As you start to slip into unconsciousness you realize the same thing as Michael, and the gut wrenching feeling of fear begins to dissipate. You roll over and vomit onto the floor.
Edward: Who happens to be a little further away than the rest of the crowd, watches as the patrons awe over something after the beautiful woman bends over and blows on the drawing. He is a little puzzled because he did not see anything happen, except for her blowing on the bar top. People then begin flailing about, screaming about things attacking them, about body parts rotting away, and other horrific things. Nothing seems outwardly wrong or attacking them though, except for the damage they are doing themselves. As he drags a man out of the fireplace coals who was attempting to climb into the fire box screaming that he was freezing to death, he sees the beautiful woman Ravana transform. Her head changes shape into that of a great white tiger and she lunges at a patron, clamping her teeth around his throat and ripping it out. Blood arcs into the ceiling rafters. She kills two more people before she is at the door, at which time she turns and says in a growling voice loud enough for Edward to hear it… “My children will be avenged.” Then she is gone into the night. Edward is stunned, but has no doubt that of all of the madness transpiring in the room, that was the one “real thing” to happen. Now all that remains are dead and maimed patrons. Those still alive are slowly coming out of their delusions, confused and crying. Dogs howl in the distance.
//I will be officially calendaring this quest. It is open to all… not just affiliates of the Silver Buckle. Remember that I award quest XP for significant forum work related to my quests. If you plan on attending, please use this thread to insert yourself IC. The quest will be fairly short, probably about an hour or so, light on the RP, and heavy on the combat. Creature DC will be high for this one. I’ll respond to all posts and lines of inquiry/investigation between now and the quest date, and please feel free to use your creative writing skills here... You can shape how things turn out with forum work.
-Rave
Heloise runs from the kitchen at the screaming. Michael's wife Elaina, also in the kitchen, hefts a long-handled knife and joins her. At the sight of the carnage, Heloise orders Edward to check for Elly, Andrew and Katelyn upstairs and Elaina tosses the knife beside the stage and starts bandaging, ripping strips off her apron. Edward spints for the second-floor door. Helly screams for Clarisse, if the young elf maid is close by to hear, to come get the children. If Father Xander is staying at the inn during one of his periodic attendances (//Masterjack NPC, Aeridinite), then he'll be fetched as well.
Michael, shaking, slaps the parchment over the picture on the bartop, then starts to move bodies - living first - to where they can get help, also doing basic triage, albeit with less skill.
Staff rush to see if Father Xander is currently at the inn, but word returns quickly after looking at the ledger that he is not on-site.
Tori begins to push herself from the floor, then sags back down and retches once more for good measure. When she manages to get to her knees, leaning over with one hand to support her, she manages to get out only something that sounds like a very foul dwarven curse.
Despite the chaos and things in need of attention, she takes a moment to collect her thoughts, closing her eyes and slowing her breathing while separating back out the real and the delusion, letting the black fade from her sight and rubbing her arm across her mouth, and replaying the events prior. This takes a little longer than under normal circumstances, of course, and she seems... Irritated.
When she manages to get herself to her feet, she is in motion and stays in motion for what is likely going to be a very long night. Starting at first for the clinic and stopping again when people explode into motion, she looks around for someone quick on their feet and sends them off for the authorities to report the attack.
For those less injured that wish only to leave, she'd prefer everyone passed muster first and makes that known, wanting those in the building to be checked for latent magic or lingering effects...
However it might look, she stands for a moment in the chaos, looking over the ones that fell to magic and where the ones who were unaffected were standing to get a rough idea of the area of effect while she has the chance, in order to gauge if it were a manner of distance or if some were simply passed over while others were not, and how far. She lifts the parchment to see what remains of the drawing, studying it for a moment before covering it once more, checks the area where the woman had been sitting and the path she took to get out for anything that may have been left behind before the area has too many bodies racing through it, and then joins the others in triage.
The Silver Buckle Clinic doors are flung open to receive patients, and the most damaged moved there for more intensive healing.
After disembarking, Iri makes her way through the busy dockside traffic, from the docks to a fruit stand to the Buckle. She walks in the door, notices people, and begins talking.
"Hey there! Have..."
The looks on people's faces and the abnormal nature of the tavern sounds do not take long to register. She tosses her half-eaten apple into a corner and shuts up as the training from her mercenary days kicks in. She readies her axe; watches for attackers; checks on injuries; looks for Tori and Andrew; and listens for any shouts for assistance, equipment, or supplies.
The commotion had brought Elohanna from the kitchen, and brought out her daughter, Clarisse as well to help assist with the wounded. Both rather confused with what had happened since neither were present, but both jumping to help assess and tend to the injured, along with Father Xander peaking his head out from his room. "Dear Aeridin, what in the... " cut off by Clarisse handing him a bandage as she tended to Michael. She couldn't even ask how or why, as they worked as a practiced team to tend to the more severly injured, and then the more minor. Those guests that were more of a threat to themselves or others, were either sedated or put to sleep with the use of the Al'noth to calm them down.
Elohanna jumped into her own training, trying to help those she could, one at a time, healing prayers and bandages, being spoken and wrapped and hands pulled away from wounds, from those that had been affected by the magic. She still wasn't sure what happened but helped whoever she could, reacting and moving almost on automatic, as her guests has been attacked by something unsettled her. Who and why in the back of her mind, but her attention more focused on doing what she could to help, her daughter and Father Xander.
*Curious about the noise, Katelyn came downstairs just in time to join Elohanna in tending the injured. She also used her Eye for the Soul to check for soulstones and the possibility of resurrecting those who had died.*
Once first-class healers are on scene, which seems to take not very much time, Tori steps out of the bustle and glances around at those present. Spotting Iri, she lifts a hand and then tips her head toward the door. She pauses in the doorway to wait for the halfling, and then her briefing is, well, extremely brief. "Min' magicks."
She does expound on what she would like to happen in the next few hours, which at least proves a little more informative. "Need some magicker in here afore too long for to sniff this out. Miz Elly'll take a look after while, like as not, but I ain't sure if or how much time matters with magicks like it does with foot tracks. Lotta healin' bein' flung 'round, too, might mix things up."
Holding a hand up for a rough approximation of the woman's height, she gives a quick rundown of her appearance and demeanor. She adds, though, "Took the door exit, but either she grew some teeth or had a pet, 'cause 'em folk what in her way got mauled by some bigguns." Tori steps out with Iri to look for physical signs of mage or pet's passage, herself even to the point of seeing if there's a path of howling animals, and perhaps to hunt down a sniffer. Should they part ways, Tori only lifts one finger and adds a sharp signal ending in a closed fist.
//Any mages want in, happy to accost ya for an excuse, here ;)
After Tori recovers sufficiently to be mobile she is able to grab a gawking patron who seems to be doing nothing more than taking up valuable space and sends him to notify the guard. He quickly places his threadbare cap on his head and exits through the damaged front doors. Her suggestions about the dangers of latent magic are well received and the medical staff immediately makes this part of their observation protocol, detaining even those that were not obviously injured to look them over.
After taking measurements between the drawing and the victims it is clear that there was some sort of area of affect. Those affected stood within an approximate 20 foot by 20 foot area. When she lifts the parchment to look at the drawing, the borders and background are present, but the animals themselves are missing. When she checks the surrounding area and path the woman took to leave she finds a tuft of white hair stuck to a splintered portion of the front door jamb. There is no other physical evidence found.
-------------
Iri’s presence is a welcome addition to the security arrangements being made in case the creature returns. She is also a welcome asset in the triage efforts of the medical staff. She finds Tori both pale in color and in a horrible mood. Dwarven expletives are not in short supply.
-------------
Father Xander is actually found. It appears he had taken his travel belongings to his room before checking in less than an hour before the incident. He accepts the bandages from Clarisse and quickly begins administering to the wounded. Luckily there are very few patients requiring sedation.
With Elohanna’s assistance all of the immediate emergency treatment is completed. The total dead sit at seven. The injured requiring ongoing medical treatment totals eight. Those who were allowed to leave after minimal treatment and observation total five.
------------
Katelyn’s efforts to locate soulstones among the dead are fruitless. Unfortunately none of those patrons carried them. Her assistance with medical treatment helps facilitate an efficient triage though.
//Another post is in progress with some significant information…
Andrew is nowhere to be found, having left for Mistone to meet with Rodlin and others and having not returned yet. However, much later, much too late for decent people to be on the streets, a slim and petite young woman enters the inn. She wears small pouches all around her pink-aproned waist and carries a nicked, unsanded staff, and smells of griffon and bugbear blood with a pungent chaser of unwashed orc. An unwashed orc follows her in. Her brown right eye takes in the as-yet-uncleaned floors and the general disarray with immediate alarm while her purple left eye stays put. She heads straight for Michael. "What in the smelly dwarf happened here? Why is there so much blood?"
Mangus walks slowly behind the woman with the crooked eye. He is quiet and solum. He stands a good two feet taller than her and largely overshadows her as he stands behind her. At first glance they seem woefully mismatched yet some how, thier opposing dispositions share a kind of ballance. He looks as if he feels a bit out of place and his eyes are strolling thier way to the bar way faster than he seems to wish his body would. He is planely more at ease in seedier joints. He is covered in blood and filth. In a way he does fit in with the mess he and she are now standing among.
As the petite woman and tall humanoid stand inside the doorway assessing the cleanup, two well dressed Halflings enter, skirting around them. Edward immediately recognizes the Halflings as representatives of the Wisefoot Trading Company. He has seen them many, many, times transacting business with Andrew since the Silver Buckle and their associates were successful in rescuing one of their clerks, Riesaleah Nash, from a gang of wererats many years ago… He was not part of the expedition but he now recalls some description of several animal headed creatures being behind it. He remembered the Buckle shutting down for several days and an entourage of healers treating patients for lycanthropy. Things start adding up now. He’s not sure what this tiger headed creature was, or why she was here… but he suspected that past events had something to do with it
One of the Halflings named Jordan Belanboughue approaches him. “Edward, we heard rumors about the attack... Is there anything we can assist with?”
Michael looks up from a parchment, quill in hand. He nods to Lola but is brief. "A woman came in, flirted, said she was here because some of her kids died here, did some art on the counter, the art attacked us - we thought it did - some people killed themselves from believing what they saw. She also attacked people before she left." With that he signs the paper, points to Tori, and heads to a Mariner's Hold guard with the parchment.
Michael's larger, younger brother is visibly relieved at the offer, and gestures toward the clinic where Elly was last seen. "Far as what help we need, I'll send you to Elly, um, Mrs. Reid. I can tell ya though was a were. Head flipped right around to a tiger's. Said her children would be avenged. I'm gonna guess it's to do with that were-gang from years ago. Make sure your own are safe, since the Wisefoot name's linked to that whole mess. KAT!" He looks for the slight dark-haired healer. "KAT! Need your brain!"
Lola, in the meantime, stretches out with her still-young magical senses, feeling what Al'Noth is familiar and what is different. She focuses first on the drawing and the immediate vicinity. If the large man near her picks up on what she's doing, she will gladly join magical forces with him.
Kat finishes instructing a last patient on wound after-care and then answers his call.
"Hey Kat, I remember when the Buckle got shut down for that were business, but you were there for the whole thing - think ths is related?" The big blonde starts righting chairs and piling up broken crockery and glass now that the living and dead are tended to, but keeps his attention on the Deliarian healer.
Tori returns, looking a bit haggard and hollow-eyed, and with a surly mien only slightly different than her usual welcoming disposition. Inertia is likely responsible for her still being up and about. She pauses in the doorway to check out who's arrived and which work is finished, then moves through the room with a grunt to Lola when she notices the staff. She heads to the clinic to see if any magic showed up in any patients when they were tended, and to see where Miz Elly's at. "Guessin' she gonna need a space afore any taxin' work; still like to see where we at."
Catching Edward's question, she taps her fingertips against her thigh thoughtfully, then disappears into some back rooms for a second to look for a particular crate before returning, not wanting to miss the whole of Katelyn's response.
Iri returns with Tori and begins helping with the clean-up, starting with the apple she threw aside earlier. She keeps an ear to the chatter and conversations, ready to move if any assistance is needed.
Elly is still, tending to patients between the main room of the Inn, and the clinic, supervising and investigating, and tending. As she is tending to the wounded, and sadly the deceased patrons of the Silver Buckle, she does look for a specific cause of what has happened from her friends. She needs to know for her patients, their families and for herself what happened.
The deaths of three of the patrons were caused by their throats being ripped out by some type of creature with a large canines and extraordinary strength. This is confirmed by speaking to Edward. The remaining injuries and deaths can all be attributed to self-inflicted injuries of various types ranging from lacerations, puncture wounds, and contusions to serious 3rd degree burns. Witness statements support a conclusion of mass hysteria/hallucinations/delusions. The actions of the beautiful woman and the drawing point towards Al’Noth.
Lola’s preliminary probing for magical aura’s finds strong residues of illusion magic around the remains of the drawing. It is a type that would be very high circle in nature, and the nuances of how it was done are beyond her. She is certain though that it is no longer active and poses no danger.
"Whoever encounters this creature - " She pauses to paw through the stories she's heard, trying to recall what this thing could have been from Eddie's description - "You'll need mind protection. Don't confront the beast without it." The magic's twists and turns are so far beyond her, she can only sense it by how much they elude her. Perhaps she can use that.
So close to the bar yet so far from it, Mangus finds himself focusing his attentions to the wounded while constantly battling an inner war against well overpowering urges to go to the bar and drink instead. "Whatever done diss, got er mean bite on'm" he mutters with on eye leveled at the bandage he is wrapping on a victim and the other eye trying its best to pour itself a round of bock, knowing it has no chance of any success. He sighs inwardly and resolves to use his healing ability with a will. There will be plenty of time to drink that bock after the patients have been attended to...
he thinks to himself, " Next time dat Gromak come er call'n, Er gonna buy deh first round!"
Mangus wraps up the final patient and without delay heads strait to the bar and orders himself a stiff drink. He listens as Michael and Kat talk about the previous events.
The door burst open and for a moment one might be forgiven for thinking it was more trouble and after a fashion that may still be true. Arfur Dumas stands framed in the doorway swirling a red cloak around his tailored remake of an old Ragrian's Halberdier uniform. "ARFUR DUMAS by name, AWESOME by nature!...hoorah!" He playfully announces clearly oblivious to the aftermath of carnage around him. He steps into the room destined to be that man, the man who realises what is going on several minutes behind everyone else. One of the patrons, Dougal Doon, bent over the floor helping with the clear up and mistaking Arfur for someone who has actually come to help he asks "Where have you been?" Arfur assuming the fellow has recognised his obvious noble and artistic charm quips back "Where haven't I been?" Dougal merely shakes his head. Arfur continues on his oblivous strut towards his favourite seat watching as two young men stagger towards the same seat. One is actually in shock and being helped by the other but Arfur assumes they are drunk and brushes them aside as he reaches the seat first " Whose that in my seat..not for long!" He sits down as the duo stagger past and into another seat. He looks around and for the first time realises the Buckle is not as it was, but still he is not there yet. "Ah so my old mate is having the place fixed up....what's up? cant stand the old decor?" He spots a regular Queenie Ectra, she is ripping a torn dress shorter to provide make shift bandages. He is drawn to the new look still unaware of the past few moments "Hi Queenie I like the new look, hurrah!" There is a long silence, the preverbial true drops ever so slowly, painfully slowly and then up jumps Arfur in a whirlwind of belated and useless action he draws forth two fine rapiers of the finest quality and slaps an elegant boot onto his seat. "These blades are at the disposal of the Buckle, now what in the name of the Muse is going on here?"
"That is what I would like to know." As she approaches the bar. The last of the patrons being cared for. She looks at Michael, Tori and the rest who seem to be coming to her for answers. "What I know right now is I have three dead, and a handful of wounded and there is talk of a lady, and the possiblity of were creatures." She starts handing out a treatment of beldonna from her stores for the local patrons that are there, to help stave off any chance that her own patrons may be victims of a change they do not want to be part of. So can you please try to explain what happened here?" Finally taking a deep breath and settling on a barstool. "No one is leaving the inn right now until I am sure, no one here is going to walk into the streets and start attacking people."
I remember best all the trouble we had with that huge wererat gang, Edward, but this woman was a different sort of were. It would be very strange if her children were rats. Braile Norsem was one of the leaders, and the other was his brother. Silver weapon enhancements helped against them, and Andrew kept pockets full of silver powder. We learned how to treat those who had been recently bitten--they had to be treated before the first full moon changed them to wererats, and it took 5 days of bedrest and intensive treatment. This woman doesn't seem to be interested in making a gang, but we need to be alert to the possibility.
Eyes and ears on Kat, the barkeep slides a Green Forest draft ale in an oversized mug toward the blood-spattered giant. The ale is warm, an orphan from moments before the carnage started - a single ginger beard hair clings to the edge of the glass.
When a few ask what is going on...
"Ain't rightly sure. Lady was a'ready here when I got back. Looker. Lotta fellas makin' eyes, ain't unusual. Michael's talkin' to 'er when I sat down, ain't knowin' what about, an'... dunno. Nothin'. Jus' seemed off, way he was talkin'. Said she was an artist, started drawin' on the bar while 'em mooners drew in aroun' to watch. Tried to break the drawin', maybe she start over or somethin' an' I could find Miz Elly or that Reid fella. Didn't do much - was fixed right quick an' ..."She shrugs. "Came to life dancin' 'round 'n such, knew that was bad news. Heh. Then they was combin' together like, guessin' folk saw 'em strikin' out an' bitin' like I did, an' then I was burnin' up from inside out an' folk were killin' 'emselves. Jus' barely saw someone carryin' on 'bout somethin' what wasn't there an' it helped. Some.
"Guess folk saw she's one 'em animal shifter bits, an' she's lookin' to get back for 'em weres some folk hunted afore. Ain't really seen that, but fits what's left. Killed some folk ol' fashioned way on the way out, like."
She removes a tuft of white fur from an inner pocket with a gloved hand, and holds it up. "Didn't mean to go botherin' you none, jus' lookin' for a sniffer good enough to track, an' spell from trackin' back. Don't want anybody gettin' hasty but was jus' countin' resources, like. Briefin' seem in order, but folk was still finishin' up. "
She pauses, lips pressed together, then adds, "'pologies." The comment seems directed in a more general way outward.
When Arfur first banged in, Iri's axe was out in a flash and she was poised to strike. Realizing the disturbance was simply some sort of jester, she returned to scrubbing at some drying blood.
When he draws his rapiers, she points at him and gives a quick yell toward the bar.
"Hey! If there's a plan for attacking the monster, it should include that guy as some sort of distraction!"
From the bar tables, a strangled snort mixed with a bark; the first laugh in this long night. Edward cracks a smile at Iri. "We know this guy." Gestures to Arfur. "Something about the greatest mapmaker ever or something. Have to ask Andy."
Michael's dark-skinned wife, all six-foot-one of her, moves behind the bar to next to her husband. She points to Buckle Security. "Tori's got a lead, right there. That thing murdered our patrons and Mariner's Hold citizens. I want it found and I want it dead, before it comes back to finish the job." She passes a look over those she knows - Iri, Tori, Katelyn, and Lola, but not Elohanna yet - and shifts her pointed finger to the door. "We'll see to the rest of the patients. Mr. Belanbughue, I would like something. While they investigate, I'd like some Wisefoot guards at the clinic and the inn so Tori can be relieved of duties to help with the hunt. And if you would send word to the Deliar temple that we have some potential were patients needing tending? Then you can help them, Miss Elly." One heartbeat later she looks at Mangus. "And you, bathe in some fashion next time you step in here."
Elohanna raises her eyebrow, at the lady clearly not at all happy about what she should be doing, agreeing with some of the things the woman says, but seems to reassert herself in an effort to let calmer heads prevail given the situation.
"I understand you wanting to run out of here after her, but before I agree to anything. I want you to be prepared for facing her." Elohanna doesn't back down from the lady, not intimidated by her size in the least.
"I want a piece of that tuft of hair that you have Tori, if you would? and if any of you have even so much as a scratch, you are not leaving. So before you race out of here, I, Katelyn, or Father Xander need to clear you. I know you are going, whether I like it or not. I want you to at least to attempt to bring her back. I want you thinking clearly. If you can incapacitate her, rather than outright killing her. I would like you to try. I want her facing the families of those she hurt by facing trial, and explaining herself."
She looks to Tori, "I appreciate you keeping your head Tori, truly, and if you want to be out with them, I ask you to see to getting the Wisefoot here to help secure the inn."
She looks around to the rest. "I'll accept any help with the bar to help tracking her magically if anyone is willing to stay rather than running off to who knows where to find her, and if you wait we may be able to give you a better direction to go,"
She then looks directly at Michael's wife, "I do agree that we need to increase security, and you can help by going to the Deliar temple, Arfur can go with you, no one needs to be going anywhere alone right now. And in this I must insist.. The Bar is closed down. I need everyone thinking clearly." This time looking directly at Michael.
Tori's ghost of a grin is a wry twist of her mouth for Michael's wife, seeming to appreciate the woman. She nods to Elohanna, handing over the sample. "She ain't leavin' much in the way of trackin', figured tailin' her with magic'd be easier with it. Take some time to hunt her down, elsewise. Jus' didn't want to go givin' it to somebody what openin' 'emselves up to lookin' back. An' I ain't disagreein' on not runnin' out. Ever'body's tired an' angry. Better take time preparin' so ain't nobody scattered and worn out runnin' into her."
She starts to lean against the bar a bit, but straightens again, perhaps not wanting to risk not being able to get back up. She looks at Lola appraisingly. "Don' think no staff should be goin' out without mind wardin' for a space, neither. Seems she got her eye on the place. Magic looks flash, don't seem the type to trap you in an alley, but best not present no chances, neither."
Fingertips tap at her thigh a few times as if counting. "Be nice if 'em traders had some silver to spare or sell."
*As Grogmegor passes thru Leringard, he hears some commotion from the Inn and decides to have a look inside to see what's the matter.*
Looks likes a bigs fight, sorrys mes misses its.
*He notices Mangus there*
Whats happens heres?
*As Grogmegor passes thru Leringard, he hears some commotion from the Inn and decides to have a look inside to see what's the matter.*
Looks likes a bigs fight, sorrys mes misses its.
*He notices Mangus there*
Whats happens heres?
Between the tiny sun elf and the ebony human there is a whiff of ozone. Edward leans against a table and folds his arms. His lips are quirked and pursed at the same time; one would be forgiven for interpreting it as he'd like an ale and a scorecard. Elaina takes a breath. The hard edges of her mouth flutter smooth. She shifts her gaze to Michael.
They have been married for not quite five years and already the words don't need to be spoken. He nods. She lets out the breath and her chin comes up in acknowledgement. She looks at Arfur. "Please." It is not a request. Moving past the flamboyantly dressed, rapiered man, she takes a cloak from the rack by the Buckle front door and turns to face him. "If you would Mister Dumas?"
Michael is watching Arfur. If the halberdier and auteur looks, the barkeep mouths three words very clearly.
Not. A. Scratch.
Lola pulls two bags of powdered silver from one of the many leather pouches around her waist. "Elly - the magic is illusion, of course, but I can't identify the workings - if you could, we'd have an idea of her power."
Father Xander elbows his way into the area around the bar. There is a troubled look on his face. As he looks around he says, “You all need to be very careful. There may be lycanthropy afoot here, but I fear a greater evil and danger may be lurking below the surface of our suppositions and attempts at inductive reasoning. I remember well the incident several years ago. A terrible evil was defeated in this wonderful city. There were wererats… there is no doubt of that, but there were also some other creatures described as having the countenance of tigers and other beasts. I think the assumption was made at that time that they were also lycanthropes… put to the sword like the rest. The events this night have raised my suspicions though. We may be dealing with a far greater enemy than seems apparent.”
He sighs, moving like an older man would, and slowly pulls himself onto one of the bar stools.
“I have read of creatures that look similar to our attacker this evening, and with similar powers. They are very old….older than man or elf. They are called Rakshasa. There are many stories concerning their origin, and now nobody really knows where truth and legend become intertwined. Most ancient scrolls state they were a creation of the Great Dragon Gods at the beginning of the first Age of Layonara. Others believe that they are Pit Creatures making their way to our world in the earliest years of the mortal races. Their origin is not really that important to us in the here and now though.
Texts suggest they have the ability to procreate… and if this one had children, she may be very old indeed. I urge you all, please be careful. If this creature is truly an elder Rakshasa, the danger is more real than you can comprehend. They have the ability to change their shape at will. They can bend the minds of men and draw your greatest fears from you and use them as a weapon. They can harm you with your own mind. They have had centuries upon centuries to master the Al’Noth."
He sighs. “It might be best to ensure the clinic is stocked and ready.”
"Father Xander, Lola, Kat, and of those who wish to lend your support to our efforts here, would be appreciated. The more we know, and can confirm before leaving.. I can help prepare for." She accepts the tuft from Tori, and sighs as Michael's wife knowing she will have to find a way to make up for butting heads with her . "First as Lola suggests we need to try to trace this form of illusion, very carefully." Already opening her mind to the Al'noth and concentrating on the bar itself for the signature of the caster.
This tiny elven woman was her first teacher. She knows her teacher's motions, the way her oval face sets when she concentrates. The auburn-haired young woman simply stands near and offers her power to aid Elly as Elly needs.
Mr. Belanbughue agrees to send some extra muscle before he and his associate head back to Wisefoot headquarters. They depart with all due haste, Father Xander's words being discussed between them as they leave.
-------
As Elohanna concentrates she immediately picks up a magical signature. As she widens her circle of investigation she picks up faint traces of lingering illusion magic near the doorway. Then more are found a few dozen or so feet outside. She immediately becomes cautious and alarmed. Even a novice could have picked this up. She wonders if it could it be breadcrumbs left to lead them into a trap?
Her stubbornness melts away as the look of concern crosses her face. "We really have to go at this carefully, I can already feel this trail and there is something different about it. She wants us to follow. I feel really bad about this already, like she is trying to lead us into a trap. Father Xander you may be right. Whatever you can share with us, and tell us, the better."
*A teal-haired elf studies Elly as she is intently surveying the stone streets outside the inn. He softly taps his staff on the ground to get her attention*
Elly did someone loose something? If I find it can I get a free glass of wine *Tralek laughs but the laugh turns to a stout stare as he sees Elly is very concerned about something* Well then is something amiss here?
Still covered in blood from a different debacle, Mangus's disheveled appearance is hardly anything out of the ordinary in Grogs eyes. He is seated at the bar showing tangible adoration to a mug in his hand. He gives Grog a quick nod. "Aye blood! Butchery work! Folk say'n er lassy turned after er few drinks an' done caused er big mess yell'n someth'n about revenge."
He thinks inwardly for a moment of all the times he had personally witnessed such a thing. A woman steps up to the bar, has a few drinks, then turns into something disastrous. If this were the one eyed Harpy or one of the many hardly mentionable joints where he and his Dwarven drinking buddy, Gimpy, spend more time than they should, it would be considered a common occurrence. Although, in fairness, in this case, the bloodletting does appear to be a bit more intense than usual.
He continues, "folk er say'n she got deh head of er lion er tiger, er dats how she ended up after er few drinks. Er, myself seen er woman go from be'n er ogre to er high elf after Er had me enough drinks but who knows what 'dese folk was see'n? All Er knows is, she left er heckuva mess behind!" With that he quaff's his nepenthe all at once.
She motions to what Mangus' has said, "It is good to see you Tralek, they all speak the truth, according to the recollections. A lady came in here to speak with Michael, drew on our bar, and made the images come to life in the eyes of those watching, before their delusions caused mass hysteria, and three now lay dead and several more wounded. We are keeping close watch on each one, enlisting the aid of the Wisefoots to increase security and the Deliar temple for treating everyone to assure none wind up making a change into a werecreature, but from what I can determine so far is that the lady who did this... seems to be baiting us to come after her. I am certain we oculd all use your experience to aid us in whatever way you see fit my friend. Father Xander believes we may be dealing with something very old, very powerful and very dangerous, and I was just asking him to share anymore about his theory he can think of."
Father Xander shakes his head from his bar stool. “No, not much more information. I’m not aware of anything more I can tell you.” He frowns a little... obviously not happy with the thought there is so much he does not know.
Arfur listens sensing trepidation and fear but no immediate danger. He puts away his rapiers and strides over to the bar.Challenging the barkeep he suggests "Right let's dig out your best booze and talk about me until it's time to leave!" The barkeep puts up a bottle of house red and sarcastically quips "It would be an honour Lord." The jest is lost on the self absorbed Arfur who adds triumphantly "Of course it would! but wait, wait, wait I may be renowned throughout as one of the greatest halberdiers that ever was, but I am not completely stupid I have got the feeling you wish I wasn't here. " He downs a glass of the red stuff, nudging the glass for another and switches a rare gem necklace for a collection of duller stones, which nonetheless glows with the power of the Al Noth. He slips off one designer helmet and replaces it with another professing "The she devil will not have my mind then!" The bar keep pours a smaller measure of red wine and cannot resist adding. "She would be hard pushed to find that eh Sir!" Undaunted, Arfur steps over to the group of adventurers considering what might be a foolhardy pursuit of the illusionist she tiger thingey.
He rallies the adventurers with some encouragement. "Twenty minutes I say, twenty minutes, you ask why I say that!..It's the life expectancy of anyone who goes out THAT door after her!." he stares at the door dramatically, pausing for effect and then. "That's right, hurrah, let's dooo it, helmets on, last one out's a Xeenite!"
He casually pops a now empty glass on his favourite table and stands by the door, waiting.
Elaina is still standing by the door with her cloak over arm and awaiting her escort to the Deliarian temple. Her eyes widen briefly, then narrow as tangible oblivion to circumstance roils off the Ilsarian halberdier's braggadocio. Michael sets the quill in his hand down upon the bartop with exaggerated care. "I will see her there - " Edward shakes his head. "You heard Elly, brother. You got scratches, you have to stay. In case. C'mon, 'Laina." Michael hestitates, then nods - mostly to himself - as Edward and the dark-skinned lady leave to ask for clerical assistance, both walking past Arfur without a word.
"Elly, Father Xander - do you know, can this Rakshasa thing use it's magic to know if we're tracking it? Like setting a ward? While we track her magic, she'd know if we were coming and how fast? And if she can change shapes, as Father Xander thinks, we need to mark ourselves or have a code word, or something." Lola reaches out where Elly was walking to see if she can also sense the magical trail.
After the suggestion of marking or code words, "Agreed. An' watchin' watchers is why I weren't thrilled on havin' weary 'n anxious folk sniffin' her out, but onna other hand, sometimes jus' stickin' y'foot inna trap an' waitin's easiest way to go. For actual confrontin', addin' to the list for min' wardin', silver case she got friends, body prayin' over weapons case she crazy tiger demon sort, tag ever'body whichever way so's nobody we know get swapped, an' ain't sure but maybe Sight help on form checkin', 'long with everthin' else folk usually gettin' spelled up with for tanglin' with things you wish ain't come for a drink on your shift.
"Eh. Ain't sure she goin' for no drawn out game, but best get sorted aforehand." She seems further worn out by the long string of words.
"Somebody had to have counted the bodies, all those years ago. We should know how many of them were the were-things, and how many were like her. Understanding the extent of her loss is useful." Lola heads to the nearest guard to request the full report on the incident, prepared to follow him or her to the city hall if necessary.
Elly’s magical inspection of the inn did not find anything indicating scrying, but there was something very disturbing in one of the children’s upstairs rooms. It happened so fast she was not sure whether her overactive imagination was at work, or something more tangible and sinister was present. She thought she saw a small winged eyeball peering in through a window... As she rushed to the window to engage the thing it disappeared from sight. No magical means of detection found it after that. She found nothing out of place or any sign of something being there or trying to get inside.
Lola returns several hours later with a copy of the official report. It is very long and details the clean-up and sealing of the sewers. There were approximately 40 wererat corpses accounted for. The report describes three other creatures that were labeled “were creatures”, but no species or types were attributed. They are described as having the “heads of great cats.” The bodies were all moved into a large chamber and the entrance sealed. Authorities were afraid to transport the bodies outside of the city for burning due to a fear of the spread of lycanthropy. The entrance to that section of the sewers was also sealed with stone and magic.
Mangus, Still seated at the bar with Grog gives Grog a look of excitement, at the mention of where-rats although, privately he wonders if Grog, like so many of the other Orc's he has met in his travels since leaving his grandmother and the human populated village he grew up in, was familiar with the Orc delicacy, smoked were-rat and squash soup. He doesn't actually mention it to Grog fearing that Grog may not be familiar with it, and like so many people he has met in his travels, Grog may be repulsed by it. Regardless, Mangus is reminded fondly of the flavor of smoked where-rat and squash soup. He can almost see his human grandmother preparing it. Chopping up the large orange pumpkin, in to little bits, skinning the were-rate, pre-frying the onions and other seasonings in pig fat. He, himself, would secretly have preferred she'd have not skinned the creature, some interworking of his being prefers to eat the thing with its hair on, but he enjoyed her recipe, and found himself missing it.
Many hours after order has once again been restored to Mariner's Hold, Elohanna sits in the white wingback chair of her office, at the Silver Buckle and begins to draft a letter to the Council, advising them of what has transpired this evening, the letter being the easier of the tasks she has, as the death of her friends, weighs heavy on her heart.
She carefully takes the vial of golden ink and dips in her well loved and well used quill and begins to scribe the letter in a very elaborate and elogant common style conveying in as much detail what took place over the last half day. When she is finished she enlists the aid of Lianna, her pixie companion to deliver the letter for her.
//PM sent
Andrew, returning from his trip, hears of the horrors and the deaths of the Buckle patrons. After the entire story is told, he and Elly quietly offer to the families of the deceased some coin - while nothing can bring back the lost, the Buckle takes care of it's own, and they don't want the families having to worry about food and lodging costs with one less strong back. For the injured, they are welcome to the Buckle's best care until they are well, and their families will eat at the Buckle for free until their loved/tolerated ones are returned home.
//Ravemore, if you'd like to witness, we'll donate 1000 True to each family of the deceased. This is done by family, quietly, no fanfare. If there is no local family for a deceased, Andrew and Elly will do their best to locate them and send a message.
//Just an FYI... I'm working on a follow-up post addressing everyone's actions, concerns, etc. to tie this one up and put it to bed... There are some post quest perks that I'm working out too. This week has me super slammed for work, so it might be Saturdayish before I get to everything... Thanks for your patience guys. This one was a lot of fun for me. There was a ton of involvement both in forum and in-game, which makes it equally rewarding for me. :-)
City officials arrive at the Silver Buckle soon after receiving a letter from Elohanna Reid, Priestess of the Lifebringer. The ranking member of the contingent is Alforn Bustleman, Security Officer for the City. He is a tall blond haired human with keen hard eyes. Jordan Belanboughue, one of the top representatives of the Wisefoot Trading Company is also with him. Alforn immediately begins asking questions after thanking the Silver Buckle staff for their recent heroism, confirming and clarifying information from the report, and speaks to everyone involved in the subterranean expedition.
Jordan pulls himself away and finds Andrew in his office. “Mr. Reid! Welcome back… I wish your return was under better circumstances. Good to see you. I was happy to see that your people all returned in one piece. I heard the battle was pretty intense and the Gods found it within their hearts to return the fallen to life. A Rakshasa is an evil this world is better without.” He pauses for a few heartbeats. “The Wisefoot Trading Company is again grateful for your people’s efforts. It was only a matter of time before the creature began targeting us for our role in past events. As a gesture of our sincere thanks, The Wisefoot Trading Company will match all charitable donations made by the Buckle for the next 30 days. We will also extend extremely favorable trading contracts with the Buckle for the remainder of the year.” He politely excuses himself after some further light conversation.
Before the group of officials leave, Alforn Bustleman takes a small box and a scroll case from one of his subordinates and hands it to Michael. “On behalf of Mariner’s Hold, please see that these are distributed to the party involved in the strike against the Rakshasa.” After he leaves Michael looks at what was handed to him. The box contains small silver brooches shaped in the form of the city crest, and the scroll case contains civil proclamations of thanks.
--------
Rumors circulate that the city sewers have been again sealed by dwarven craft and Al’Noth. The City Watch has returned to a normal duty rotation.
--------
Mangis is seen with a glassy-eyed look on his face as he quaffs ale after ale. He is oblivious to the funny looks he receives from nearby patrons as his belly grumbles loudly.
--------
The families of the fallen and injured Buckle patrons are thankful for the kindness and compassion shown them. The injured all recover without complications and no signs of lycanthropy are detected. Several demands for compensation have been received from the five patrons receiving minor injuries.
//Andrew, please dispose of 1,000 true in the trash for each of the fallen and seriously injured patrons and pm me when complete. Total = 15,000 true.
Provide proof of any donations made by the Buckle for the next 30 RL days to receive a match from the Wisefoot Trading Company.
The GM forum will receive a post outlining the following perks for those that took part: Recipients of the Mariner’s Hold Civil Award can apply a +2 to any gather information rolls made when interacting with city officials. Please refer to this thread. Also, the general reputation of the Silver Buckle has improved. You can add a +1 to any roll required for actions being made on behalf of the Buckle when interaction with Mariner’s Hold citizens or officials is required.
At this time I am officially closing this quest.
15000 has been spent to help the families of the deceased/injured.
75000 is currently being held on Andrew's person, with the following breakdown:
-5000 to the shrine to Deliar as thanks for the multiple times they've assisted the Buckle clinic.
-25000 to assist and strengthen the farming communities surrounding Mariner's Hold, with a focus on the smaller plot holders, but not excluding the larger farms. This includes purchase of better farming tools, draft animals and food animals, and new seed for hardy strains of grains. He will negotiate favorable pricing for foodstuffs in return, and request those prices be extended to the town's orphanages.
-10000 (each) to the city's orphanages (//need to know how many and if any of them are really dodgy), donated in the form of any needed supplies such as pillows/blankets, furniture, toys, musical instruments and art supplies (of course), coin for staff, food, and connections with the farmers he's assisted (at his reduced prices, assuming he negotiates them successfully).
-Undisclosed amount to be held for negotiations to open a shrine to Ilsare in the Hold.