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 She is certain though that it is no longer active and poses no danger.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?
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.”
Author
Topic: Silver Buckle - Shadow from the Past... (Read 4569 times)
