The village was known as Wakefield, though the darkness from the clouds that had swallowed the valley certainly did not imply any waking. At least, not the good kind. The rain was frigid, falling in icy sheets that felt like needles to bare skin, but still the fog persisted. Normally, the townsfolk would work through the fog, but the rain kept most inside, and a heavy tension filled the air.
Lanterns were lit in the streets but many had burned out with the continuous downpour, and fire was what kept the beast at bay, rumors had it. Nightly, oil would burn at the front of doors and candles would be lit at windowsills, all in effort to protect what lives were left. But on this night, the torrential rains would prevent this security.
The tavern was mostly silent, the minstrel having long since stopped his music, instead sitting at the bar, talking quietly to the tavern-keep. Most everyone kept away from the windows, though candles burned there, and quite a few patrons were brandishing weapons; some only wielded pitchforks and axes, while other carried bows and sword, passed down by families. Even inside, the air was tense and people spoke in whispers, the creaking of the walls as the rain battered down he most prevalent sound.
But there was one woman outside, sprinting for the edge of town. Though her skin was dark, her upturned and pointed ears signaled her race; a high elf, with bright aqua eyes and freckles across her body. Her long hair stuck to her skin and she had squinted her eyes to see through the fog, desperately trying to focus on something beyond it. Atropos disappeared into the murky air, casting an outstretched hand forward to reach for something, anything that might signal the outside of the town- and her feet slid from beneath her, sending the elven woman into the mud.
She laid there for a moment, balling her fists before slowly getting to her knees, and staring at where she had tried to run from, where the fog had send her right back. Wakefield. Atropos slammed her hand into the mud, staring at her leather pants; How long had it been now? Days? Weeks? She had only meant to pass through, recollect herself for a night before moving on...what was this fog? And her horse...
Atropos though back to a few nights before, when she had sent her horse into the fog, tossing an apple to lure it. At first, she thought he had made it. But then, the squeals it had let out made her heart drop, and she raced out after it, reaching blindly into the fog. The noises ceased suddenly, just as she was spit back into the city, and her horse had vanished in the fog, leaving a horrible burn in her throat.
Defeated, the woman got to her feet slowly, bracing herself against the rain as she staggered forward, towards the inn. Hopeless, just as the villagers had said. She was trapped. Atropos was not one to believe such tales of beasts and demons but...this had to be caused by something. And she herself dabbled in dark magic, though this seemed far too advanced. She hung her head and pushed her hair from her eyes, slicking it back with the water as she entered the inn. Perhaps some rest...she would try again when the rain had ceased.
Lanterns were lit in the streets but many had burned out with the continuous downpour, and fire was what kept the beast at bay, rumors had it. Nightly, oil would burn at the front of doors and candles would be lit at windowsills, all in effort to protect what lives were left. But on this night, the torrential rains would prevent this security.
The tavern was mostly silent, the minstrel having long since stopped his music, instead sitting at the bar, talking quietly to the tavern-keep. Most everyone kept away from the windows, though candles burned there, and quite a few patrons were brandishing weapons; some only wielded pitchforks and axes, while other carried bows and sword, passed down by families. Even inside, the air was tense and people spoke in whispers, the creaking of the walls as the rain battered down he most prevalent sound.
But there was one woman outside, sprinting for the edge of town. Though her skin was dark, her upturned and pointed ears signaled her race; a high elf, with bright aqua eyes and freckles across her body. Her long hair stuck to her skin and she had squinted her eyes to see through the fog, desperately trying to focus on something beyond it. Atropos disappeared into the murky air, casting an outstretched hand forward to reach for something, anything that might signal the outside of the town- and her feet slid from beneath her, sending the elven woman into the mud.
She laid there for a moment, balling her fists before slowly getting to her knees, and staring at where she had tried to run from, where the fog had send her right back. Wakefield. Atropos slammed her hand into the mud, staring at her leather pants; How long had it been now? Days? Weeks? She had only meant to pass through, recollect herself for a night before moving on...what was this fog? And her horse...
Atropos though back to a few nights before, when she had sent her horse into the fog, tossing an apple to lure it. At first, she thought he had made it. But then, the squeals it had let out made her heart drop, and she raced out after it, reaching blindly into the fog. The noises ceased suddenly, just as she was spit back into the city, and her horse had vanished in the fog, leaving a horrible burn in her throat.
Defeated, the woman got to her feet slowly, bracing herself against the rain as she staggered forward, towards the inn. Hopeless, just as the villagers had said. She was trapped. Atropos was not one to believe such tales of beasts and demons but...this had to be caused by something. And she herself dabbled in dark magic, though this seemed far too advanced. She hung her head and pushed her hair from her eyes, slicking it back with the water as she entered the inn. Perhaps some rest...she would try again when the rain had ceased.
The Hanged Man waited.
He was used to waiting. One thing he had in abundance was time. He had waited out storms, sieges, reigns. This little fog trap was no different--he had been here for days already, maybe weeks. He'd simply outlast the wizard or demon who was weaving it if it came to that. And it was nice to rest his bones every once in a while.
Of course, one thing he did not have in abundance was coin. He checked his pouch, grimacing upon finding mostly useless currency: ceramic Daoin isiwa, dried seeds from Ekslazmaur, two ovals of purple metal embossed with seven-headed storks ... the wanderer couldn't remember where they were from. There was also an assortment of foreign coppers, which he hoped the innkeep would accept.
Sheets of driving rain lashed against the side of the inn and the streets outside, making lanterns falter with each blast. The inn was bursting at the seams with other travelers caught in the trap, forcing them to share rooms or sleep in front of the hearth and under tables in the common room. Soon even the stables would be at capacity. Yet even with so many patrons, a grim and unshakable silence filled the room with a sense of dread. They clutched their weapons and candles tight. Even the Hanged Man chewed on the end of the pipe, as if that little bowl of embers would be enough to keep the beast at bay.
The door opened. There was an audible creak as everyone gripped their weapons tighter and went tense in their seats, but upon seeing it was just another patron taking shelter from the rain, resumed their quiet huddling. The Hanged Man watched Atropos a moment longer, dipping his chin if she caught his eye.
He was used to waiting. One thing he had in abundance was time. He had waited out storms, sieges, reigns. This little fog trap was no different--he had been here for days already, maybe weeks. He'd simply outlast the wizard or demon who was weaving it if it came to that. And it was nice to rest his bones every once in a while.
Of course, one thing he did not have in abundance was coin. He checked his pouch, grimacing upon finding mostly useless currency: ceramic Daoin isiwa, dried seeds from Ekslazmaur, two ovals of purple metal embossed with seven-headed storks ... the wanderer couldn't remember where they were from. There was also an assortment of foreign coppers, which he hoped the innkeep would accept.
Sheets of driving rain lashed against the side of the inn and the streets outside, making lanterns falter with each blast. The inn was bursting at the seams with other travelers caught in the trap, forcing them to share rooms or sleep in front of the hearth and under tables in the common room. Soon even the stables would be at capacity. Yet even with so many patrons, a grim and unshakable silence filled the room with a sense of dread. They clutched their weapons and candles tight. Even the Hanged Man chewed on the end of the pipe, as if that little bowl of embers would be enough to keep the beast at bay.
The door opened. There was an audible creak as everyone gripped their weapons tighter and went tense in their seats, but upon seeing it was just another patron taking shelter from the rain, resumed their quiet huddling. The Hanged Man watched Atropos a moment longer, dipping his chin if she caught his eye.
There was a sense of dread coming from this particular place; due to the fact of the circumstances surrounding this immortal being in a seemingly cursed forest, and a fog that’s so thick you can barely see your hands in front of your face. It was much, much different than that of the colorful and cheerful disposition of the eastern cities; it was rather depressing, the more you look at it. But you have to admit, this sort of thing was perfect for the dragon hybrid. She wasn’t in it for the gold, or the glory, she was doing this for a good adventure--something she was lacking back at home in the Eastern Kingdom. There had been an increasing deficiency of quests coming into the guild back at home, and that was definitely just unacceptable to her.
And so here she was, after about a few days of travel, she found herself in Wakefield. However, there was one tiny detail, only one crucial point that she managed to miss before getting into town.
The thick, ominous fog had prevented anyone from getting out.
Sure, that sort of thing--it sounded pretty far-fetched from the get-go, but Krystal had only stayed around for about a day and had stood by and observed as so many people tried to escape the town, only to get practically spat out by the fog, as if the fog itself were living, and the person left a bad taste in the thick cloud’s mouth. Now Krystal knew she was knee deep in something really big this time. She started to think about what the cause of this fog even was. Maybe, just maybe it was the other rumor that had drawn her here to the first place. She had to get into the forest, and get to the bottom of this whole mess somehow. But going by herself was risky.
Her only hope now, was to wait for some other skilled warriors to come along and help her with the cause. But…. How long would that even take? And with all of the other people going missing, would anyone else even take the chance for this? That fact alone would scare a lot of people out of it.
There she sat in the inn, occasionally glancing around at the sullen looking patrons, clutching onto their weapons for dear life. The half dragon frowned at this sight, and shifted her weight slightly. Krystal watched from a window inside the inn as an elf woman attempted to run through the fog for at least the millionth time. She had seen the same elf attempting this a few times ever since she had gotten here. At that point forward, Krystal decided that these people really needed someone to help them out.
She was only hoping that she could provide these people with that help, and fast.
And so here she was, after about a few days of travel, she found herself in Wakefield. However, there was one tiny detail, only one crucial point that she managed to miss before getting into town.
The thick, ominous fog had prevented anyone from getting out.
Sure, that sort of thing--it sounded pretty far-fetched from the get-go, but Krystal had only stayed around for about a day and had stood by and observed as so many people tried to escape the town, only to get practically spat out by the fog, as if the fog itself were living, and the person left a bad taste in the thick cloud’s mouth. Now Krystal knew she was knee deep in something really big this time. She started to think about what the cause of this fog even was. Maybe, just maybe it was the other rumor that had drawn her here to the first place. She had to get into the forest, and get to the bottom of this whole mess somehow. But going by herself was risky.
Her only hope now, was to wait for some other skilled warriors to come along and help her with the cause. But…. How long would that even take? And with all of the other people going missing, would anyone else even take the chance for this? That fact alone would scare a lot of people out of it.
There she sat in the inn, occasionally glancing around at the sullen looking patrons, clutching onto their weapons for dear life. The half dragon frowned at this sight, and shifted her weight slightly. Krystal watched from a window inside the inn as an elf woman attempted to run through the fog for at least the millionth time. She had seen the same elf attempting this a few times ever since she had gotten here. At that point forward, Krystal decided that these people really needed someone to help them out.
She was only hoping that she could provide these people with that help, and fast.
King Conrad had heard the rumours, gossip about this cursed village was unsettling the overall peace of the otherwise calm kingdom.
He gathered the council of royal advisors and the decision was set in stone. He would send a governor to rule over the village, castle, lands and surroundings and keep peace through an iron fist.
Lord knight Pentre of course had volunteered but... on this occasion the king appointed a young and ambitious lord. Sir Henry Morgan for this particular task.
The prince had insisted on going to aid the villagers too and king Conrad found himself unable to deny his son's request.
Without further ado, Sir Morgan, the prince with a few knights and the lady Morgana travelled straight to this forsaken village nobody had even heard of it before.
Upon arrival of course, Morgan held the authority of the king to every intend and purpose thus the cruel man had power even over the prince.
The weather was mercilessly and the fog much too thick to allow them to reach the castle so they came to the tavern to take shelter for the night.
"This weather is certainly ungodly" muttered prince Merthyr escorting the lady Morgana on his arm, the pair entering the crowded tavern closely followed by Sir Morgan and the knights and guards behind.
"Greetings... commoners" mentioned Morgan briefly with a flare of importance, which he now held
Their arrival was closely followed by Aynor and Calico and their respective groups of rogues and thieves. The men growing stiff at the excessive force and army presence all piled up in the one modest tavern. They were coming to drink and merry make, not to hand themselves to the authorities, as seemed to be the case. If they left they would raise greater suspicions so they casually walked in as if nothing was amiss
He gathered the council of royal advisors and the decision was set in stone. He would send a governor to rule over the village, castle, lands and surroundings and keep peace through an iron fist.
Lord knight Pentre of course had volunteered but... on this occasion the king appointed a young and ambitious lord. Sir Henry Morgan for this particular task.
The prince had insisted on going to aid the villagers too and king Conrad found himself unable to deny his son's request.
Without further ado, Sir Morgan, the prince with a few knights and the lady Morgana travelled straight to this forsaken village nobody had even heard of it before.
Upon arrival of course, Morgan held the authority of the king to every intend and purpose thus the cruel man had power even over the prince.
The weather was mercilessly and the fog much too thick to allow them to reach the castle so they came to the tavern to take shelter for the night.
"This weather is certainly ungodly" muttered prince Merthyr escorting the lady Morgana on his arm, the pair entering the crowded tavern closely followed by Sir Morgan and the knights and guards behind.
"Greetings... commoners" mentioned Morgan briefly with a flare of importance, which he now held
Their arrival was closely followed by Aynor and Calico and their respective groups of rogues and thieves. The men growing stiff at the excessive force and army presence all piled up in the one modest tavern. They were coming to drink and merry make, not to hand themselves to the authorities, as seemed to be the case. If they left they would raise greater suspicions so they casually walked in as if nothing was amiss
((Was waiting to see if Raziel would respond, going to keep moving forward))
Atropos fixes her eyes on The Hanged Man for a moment, nodding back at him, before advancing to the tavernkeep. She opted to take a seat right on the countertop, cutting into the conversation the woman had been having, but there seemed to be no ill-will. The woman chattered for a moment before the tavernkeep fetched a small crate; candles.
Atropos wasn’t a very kind person. Honestly, if she could escape this town alone, she would. It fit her reputation, as dangerous of a mercenary as she was. But with this situation, it was best to not make enemies, and so the elf had taken to assisting around the tavern in exchange for shelter. She moved from window to window silently, replacing the nearly burnt out candles with fresh ones; they could melt down the left over wax to make new ones, according to the tavernkeep, so Atropos tossed the waxy stubs into the box once the fresh one had been lit.
When Merthyr and Morgan walked in, a few Knights stood and bowed out of respect, but most eyed them warily, including the elf. There was a limited amount of nobility here; it had been quite a while since they had heard from the lord of the castle in the forest, and so they ran as usual, sending their taxes in with a Knight who would never return from the journey. Having someone like the Prince, and someone like Morgan, would cause some disorder already. And the tavernkeep felt this more when Calico and Aynor walked in, with their respective groups.
“Yur highness,” the woman nodded her head, leaning forward, “Ta what do we owe tha pleasure of yur company? I do hope it’s got nuthin’ ta do wit our Lord, we haven’t seen tha man in months...” she sighed, “If yur here for rooms, Ah’m afraid we got none left. Ah know yur kind aren’t too accustomed ta sleepin’ on the floor, sa ah suppose ah can find someone willing ta welcome yuh in their home...if that’s fine....” She has ceased her rambling for a moment, the serious air returning to her as she trailed off. Atropos had of course, by now, finished replacing the candles, and was standing behind the counter beside the tavernkeep, standing with her arms folded as if she was the woman’s protection (because she practically was).
The air was more tense than ever, with the way the tavernkeep seemed flustered and anxious at the response to her offers; there wasn’t much she could do, but if this man proved more trouble than she could handle it could land her in hot water. She didn’t fear the crown Prince much, but it was Morgan who had everyone on edge. Patrons had let their whispers trail into silence, eyes and ears focused on the interaction between the two groups.
Atropos fixes her eyes on The Hanged Man for a moment, nodding back at him, before advancing to the tavernkeep. She opted to take a seat right on the countertop, cutting into the conversation the woman had been having, but there seemed to be no ill-will. The woman chattered for a moment before the tavernkeep fetched a small crate; candles.
Atropos wasn’t a very kind person. Honestly, if she could escape this town alone, she would. It fit her reputation, as dangerous of a mercenary as she was. But with this situation, it was best to not make enemies, and so the elf had taken to assisting around the tavern in exchange for shelter. She moved from window to window silently, replacing the nearly burnt out candles with fresh ones; they could melt down the left over wax to make new ones, according to the tavernkeep, so Atropos tossed the waxy stubs into the box once the fresh one had been lit.
When Merthyr and Morgan walked in, a few Knights stood and bowed out of respect, but most eyed them warily, including the elf. There was a limited amount of nobility here; it had been quite a while since they had heard from the lord of the castle in the forest, and so they ran as usual, sending their taxes in with a Knight who would never return from the journey. Having someone like the Prince, and someone like Morgan, would cause some disorder already. And the tavernkeep felt this more when Calico and Aynor walked in, with their respective groups.
“Yur highness,” the woman nodded her head, leaning forward, “Ta what do we owe tha pleasure of yur company? I do hope it’s got nuthin’ ta do wit our Lord, we haven’t seen tha man in months...” she sighed, “If yur here for rooms, Ah’m afraid we got none left. Ah know yur kind aren’t too accustomed ta sleepin’ on the floor, sa ah suppose ah can find someone willing ta welcome yuh in their home...if that’s fine....” She has ceased her rambling for a moment, the serious air returning to her as she trailed off. Atropos had of course, by now, finished replacing the candles, and was standing behind the counter beside the tavernkeep, standing with her arms folded as if she was the woman’s protection (because she practically was).
The air was more tense than ever, with the way the tavernkeep seemed flustered and anxious at the response to her offers; there wasn’t much she could do, but if this man proved more trouble than she could handle it could land her in hot water. She didn’t fear the crown Prince much, but it was Morgan who had everyone on edge. Patrons had let their whispers trail into silence, eyes and ears focused on the interaction between the two groups.
Those two words had made the half dragon scowl a bit. She was many things, but there was one thing that she wasn't, and that, was a commoner. But confronting these people about it obviously wouldn't do anything for her. For now, she only leaned on the table, watching Atropos fix the candles around the place. Her eyes briefly went to the person who the elf had eyed for a moment. She studied him with some curiosity in her eyes for at least a couple of moments before getting bored again, her gaze shifting to her hand on the table.
Krystal had heard the tavernkeep talking to the group who had entered recently, but she didn't look back. But what she did notice, was the patrons had fell into complete silence, and now they all had stared at the exchange between the two groups Krystal had refused to even acknowledge. What was their deal? Were those people important or something? She felt a bit interested in this, if she had to be honest. Krystal only shifted to her naginata, fiddling with the blade for a bit.
For now, she listened in on the conversation, only pretending not to care.
Krystal had heard the tavernkeep talking to the group who had entered recently, but she didn't look back. But what she did notice, was the patrons had fell into complete silence, and now they all had stared at the exchange between the two groups Krystal had refused to even acknowledge. What was their deal? Were those people important or something? She felt a bit interested in this, if she had to be honest. Krystal only shifted to her naginata, fiddling with the blade for a bit.
For now, she listened in on the conversation, only pretending not to care.
The Hanged Man was beginning to learn the faces that frequented the tavern. The elf was among them, though he did not know her name. Most were citizens of Wakefield, but every day more and more travelers were caught here, skewing the numbers towards the foreign and worldly. Cultures clashed and tensions ran high, but local businesses were turning a mighty profit ... at least until their supplies ran out.
The heat from the fire and packed bodies combined with the wet humidity of the fog combined to make the air itself heavy and oppressive. Grimacing, the Hanged Man dabbed his forehead with a corner of his cloak, grinding the stem of his pipe between his molars. He seemed more interested in chewing on it than actually smoking it.
With the arrival of the nobles and two more packs of ne'erdowells, the crowd became a crush. The Hanged Man watched them with interest. Surely they were here to find a way to break the spell trap ... and hopefully they had been smart enough to bring along a wizard or two.
"My lords, beg pardon ..." If Morgan or Merthyr acknowledged him, he'd go on. "I've a room upstairs. If you pay for it, you may join me ... I w-will sleep on the floor." His voice was boyish, almost quavery, and didn't match his gruff exterior. The offer wasn't amazing, though--the nobles had a good number of people to house, and the room had only a couple of cots. The Hanged Man had been sharing it with a woman from Akir, but she had disappeared several days ago, and something told him she hadn't escaped the fog alive.
The heat from the fire and packed bodies combined with the wet humidity of the fog combined to make the air itself heavy and oppressive. Grimacing, the Hanged Man dabbed his forehead with a corner of his cloak, grinding the stem of his pipe between his molars. He seemed more interested in chewing on it than actually smoking it.
With the arrival of the nobles and two more packs of ne'erdowells, the crowd became a crush. The Hanged Man watched them with interest. Surely they were here to find a way to break the spell trap ... and hopefully they had been smart enough to bring along a wizard or two.
"My lords, beg pardon ..." If Morgan or Merthyr acknowledged him, he'd go on. "I've a room upstairs. If you pay for it, you may join me ... I w-will sleep on the floor." His voice was boyish, almost quavery, and didn't match his gruff exterior. The offer wasn't amazing, though--the nobles had a good number of people to house, and the room had only a couple of cots. The Hanged Man had been sharing it with a woman from Akir, but she had disappeared several days ago, and something told him she hadn't escaped the fog alive.
"Very well... it will do for tonight..with the dubious clientelle one can never have enough guards and knights on watchful duties. If you accept to provide services I will gladly pay for the room and any food you might require..." offered Morgan
As he waited for a reply to his propoal, his face became that of clear displeasure as his eyes trailed around the establishment taking in the decor, furniture and the patrons, especially the pirates and thieves
Aynor and Calico were two renowned rogues, and well known rivals to one another, it was most unfortunate the two sworn enemies now found themselves stuck at the same tavern and watched by knights, which prevented heated exchanges by means of brawls and fist fights and daggers and all.
"Come, your highness... we shall have the table by the fire place" indicated Morgan with a flare of importance making his way to the already occupied table and causing Calico to vacate it
"I think I fancy a tankard at the bar and some dart throwing over there" spoke Calico aloud doing his best to avoid Morgan, Merthyr and the knights altogether by switching to the opposite sides as much as possible though that brought him close to Aynor instead, the tension cutting the air
(( OOC : Editted ))
As he waited for a reply to his propoal, his face became that of clear displeasure as his eyes trailed around the establishment taking in the decor, furniture and the patrons, especially the pirates and thieves
Aynor and Calico were two renowned rogues, and well known rivals to one another, it was most unfortunate the two sworn enemies now found themselves stuck at the same tavern and watched by knights, which prevented heated exchanges by means of brawls and fist fights and daggers and all.
"Come, your highness... we shall have the table by the fire place" indicated Morgan with a flare of importance making his way to the already occupied table and causing Calico to vacate it
"I think I fancy a tankard at the bar and some dart throwing over there" spoke Calico aloud doing his best to avoid Morgan, Merthyr and the knights altogether by switching to the opposite sides as much as possible though that brought him close to Aynor instead, the tension cutting the air
(( OOC : Editted ))
((You're crossing the streams, Tus! In this setting no one would know who the Hanged Man is. X) ))
The tavernkeep let out an audible sigh, relieved to have been ignored. Atropos, on the other hand, glared bitterly at the blue-bloods. She had always been one to loathe nobility, even with her royal upbringing. And this man Morgan was certainly going to get on her nerves, whether he intended to or not.
“Aye! No darts!” The tavernkeep barked at Calico, folding her arms. She stared him down, obviously feeling the tension at the close quarters, “Ah don’t want anyone gettin’ hit accidentally. If yuh want ta play darts, go out inta tha fog. I’m sure tha beast would love another partner, since it’s always taking more and more.”
Atropos had settled herself on the bar top again, watching over the tense crowd as if she were the only security there. In reality, the mercenary would probably just watch if things descended into chaos, but her cold expression and sharp eyes gave a different impression.
“Aye! No darts!” The tavernkeep barked at Calico, folding her arms. She stared him down, obviously feeling the tension at the close quarters, “Ah don’t want anyone gettin’ hit accidentally. If yuh want ta play darts, go out inta tha fog. I’m sure tha beast would love another partner, since it’s always taking more and more.”
Atropos had settled herself on the bar top again, watching over the tense crowd as if she were the only security there. In reality, the mercenary would probably just watch if things descended into chaos, but her cold expression and sharp eyes gave a different impression.
The Hanged Man plucked his pipe from his mouth just long enough to take a swig of cheap brandy. "Aye. I'm not signing a contract w-with you, but for tonight I'll help keep w-watch."
Morgan's worries were justified. Plenty of those caught in the spell trap were thieves and vagabonds, and theft was rife. The whole place was a powderkeg just waiting to blow. The Hanged Man couldn't keep his eyes on all of them, but it seemed like there were other quiet watchers as well--namely the woman in blue, and the woman in red who assumed her spot at the counter again.
"However, my lords ... unless you've come here to save us all ... you're stuck, too." He slid his empty cup over towards the barkeep and said in a sotto voice, "Another, mistress--the good stuff this time, if there's any left, courtesy of the lord there." Alcohol could be considered food, right? His green eyes returned to the nobility at the table and he raised his voice again to address them. "So, my lord. Have you come to save us all?"
Morgan's worries were justified. Plenty of those caught in the spell trap were thieves and vagabonds, and theft was rife. The whole place was a powderkeg just waiting to blow. The Hanged Man couldn't keep his eyes on all of them, but it seemed like there were other quiet watchers as well--namely the woman in blue, and the woman in red who assumed her spot at the counter again.
"However, my lords ... unless you've come here to save us all ... you're stuck, too." He slid his empty cup over towards the barkeep and said in a sotto voice, "Another, mistress--the good stuff this time, if there's any left, courtesy of the lord there." Alcohol could be considered food, right? His green eyes returned to the nobility at the table and he raised his voice again to address them. "So, my lord. Have you come to save us all?"
At the absurd question, Morgan's smile and pleasantries immediately dropped to a serious and sober expression of a deadly and cruel look, with a clear glint of greed and ambition.
"Save you all? Absolutely not... I come to impose my command over all and subdue you all into servitude and labouring. To make this a profitable dominion full of honest hardworking citizens... out of all those staying here.
I bring enough armed men at arms to impose the rule of law and to take the castle by force if the local lord refuses to hand himself willingly.
Be under no illusion, commands will be given, decrees issued in the name of the king, to all who happen to be here. Those who dare refuse... I will extend a charge of high treason, rebellion, public disorder and contempt of the law and immediately sign off a death warrant, followed by the equally immediate execution" simplified Morgan
"Henceforth thieves and cheats stand to loose a hand, or two, an arm or two, a foot or two, an eye or two as I see befitting" assured Morgan clearly a butcher who relished in torture too and no qualms to make it happen.
"Either you are here to serve and obey me, or your corpse will be removed so those loyal have more room to themselves in this establishment" explained Morgan loud enough for the entire establishment to hear
Causing Calico, Teach, Aynor and their respective crews to pause still and stiff, a handful of stolen coins dropped and scattered to the ground, for these men knew all too well Morgan was anything but exaggerating the claims.
"Save you all? Absolutely not... I come to impose my command over all and subdue you all into servitude and labouring. To make this a profitable dominion full of honest hardworking citizens... out of all those staying here.
I bring enough armed men at arms to impose the rule of law and to take the castle by force if the local lord refuses to hand himself willingly.
Be under no illusion, commands will be given, decrees issued in the name of the king, to all who happen to be here. Those who dare refuse... I will extend a charge of high treason, rebellion, public disorder and contempt of the law and immediately sign off a death warrant, followed by the equally immediate execution" simplified Morgan
"Henceforth thieves and cheats stand to loose a hand, or two, an arm or two, a foot or two, an eye or two as I see befitting" assured Morgan clearly a butcher who relished in torture too and no qualms to make it happen.
"Either you are here to serve and obey me, or your corpse will be removed so those loyal have more room to themselves in this establishment" explained Morgan loud enough for the entire establishment to hear
Causing Calico, Teach, Aynor and their respective crews to pause still and stiff, a handful of stolen coins dropped and scattered to the ground, for these men knew all too well Morgan was anything but exaggerating the claims.
If the tension hadn't been suffocating before, it was now all-encompassing; the citizens had silenced there whispers to share astonished and rather fearful gazes, and even the local guard was shocked.
That was, until the elf snorted.
The woman burst into laughter, the sound surprisingly gentle for her gruff appearance, and she smiled at Morgan though it was anything but pleasant, yet the woman didn't speak. It did, however, seem to give a few villagers the courage to speak up. "The Lord is dead." One voice claimed, and suddenly the room was alight once more, others chiming in with the rumors of the beast. Atropos had stepped from the counter, brandishing her strange scissor blade and approaching Morgan and Merthyr.
She bowed deeply, though it felt almost mocking, "What the people say is true, you see." Her voice was equally unfitting of her rough appearance, faintly reminiscent of tinkling glass, each word defined clearly and free of the same odd accent these commoners seemed to bear; though her skin masked it, her noble origins were clear with how she carried herself, "Feel free to send your men into the woods to see. None have returned uninjured, and none who have come back lived for very long. There is a beast here, sirs, one much stronger than the likes of a measly human such as yourself could handle..." The elf straightened up, her crystalline eyes staring into Morgan, "You will find no safety here, you are cattle for slaughter like the rest of us now. No King's Honor will save you, or our Prince. We are to be devoured by the crea--"
A shrill, piercing scream bore through the night, causing the tavern to fall silent as it rang out. Atropos, seemingly abandoning her lecture of the nobles, sprinted for the door with blade in hand, and ventured into the unending rain, the local guardsmen following.
That was, until the elf snorted.
The woman burst into laughter, the sound surprisingly gentle for her gruff appearance, and she smiled at Morgan though it was anything but pleasant, yet the woman didn't speak. It did, however, seem to give a few villagers the courage to speak up. "The Lord is dead." One voice claimed, and suddenly the room was alight once more, others chiming in with the rumors of the beast. Atropos had stepped from the counter, brandishing her strange scissor blade and approaching Morgan and Merthyr.
She bowed deeply, though it felt almost mocking, "What the people say is true, you see." Her voice was equally unfitting of her rough appearance, faintly reminiscent of tinkling glass, each word defined clearly and free of the same odd accent these commoners seemed to bear; though her skin masked it, her noble origins were clear with how she carried herself, "Feel free to send your men into the woods to see. None have returned uninjured, and none who have come back lived for very long. There is a beast here, sirs, one much stronger than the likes of a measly human such as yourself could handle..." The elf straightened up, her crystalline eyes staring into Morgan, "You will find no safety here, you are cattle for slaughter like the rest of us now. No King's Honor will save you, or our Prince. We are to be devoured by the crea--"
A shrill, piercing scream bore through the night, causing the tavern to fall silent as it rang out. Atropos, seemingly abandoning her lecture of the nobles, sprinted for the door with blade in hand, and ventured into the unending rain, the local guardsmen following.
((Should I wait for koobler to post in?))
((whoops, sorry hangy, i totally forgot to post lol))
She scanned the place, watching as the people were riled up by what the woman had said about them being enslaved. Personally, Krystal didn't want to intervene by saying anything, so she only watched as the elf gave her response. It irritated her a bit how she said that they had no hope of living through this whole mess. That wasn't true. It definitely wasn't.
Those words had set something off inside her. Krystal stood up at once, preparing to give her input, but she was cut off by the bloodcurdling scream that rang out. First she watched the elf and the town's guardsmen run outside, then she quickly grabbed her weapon, slinging it over her back, and made way to the door after the group, going outside as well.
She'd be damned if she wasn't going to help out in any way she could.
She scanned the place, watching as the people were riled up by what the woman had said about them being enslaved. Personally, Krystal didn't want to intervene by saying anything, so she only watched as the elf gave her response. It irritated her a bit how she said that they had no hope of living through this whole mess. That wasn't true. It definitely wasn't.
Those words had set something off inside her. Krystal stood up at once, preparing to give her input, but she was cut off by the bloodcurdling scream that rang out. First she watched the elf and the town's guardsmen run outside, then she quickly grabbed her weapon, slinging it over her back, and made way to the door after the group, going outside as well.
She'd be damned if she wasn't going to help out in any way she could.
"Any man abled body better go out there to tackle the threat... or those left behind will meet death for sure and certain..." commanded Morgan pointing the finger straight out the door.
"Only those at my immediate service will be permitted to stay behind and be spared, women and children will be spared, but any men left here who is not actively serving me, come the morning they will actively be serving the crows a fleshy feast" informed Morgan sitting back down on a setty, fingers tapping the arm rest impatiently.
"Come on... commoners... you heard the governor..." prompted and urged Merthyr leaving behind Pentre and Prodius to guard Morgan whilst he whistled his loyal knights to go outside, unsheathing his sword and approaching Calico's and Aynor's crews
"Outdoors or death" muttered Merthyr uncomfortable to have to force the men into definite danger, undertrain and under armed but in no position to counter the royal orders issued by Sir Henry Morgan in the name of the king.
Aynor and Calico immediately stopped their taunts and bickering raising to their feet and venturing outside
"If we get to the wretched castle, we are splitting the bounty and treasures half ways... Aynor..." informed Calico
"When we get to the wretched castle, we will indeed all get a fair share" accepted Aynor striking a quick truce against the two almost equally skilled rivals for the sake of survival and gold.
"Sir... get marching..." pointed out Merthyr looking at The Hanged Man and the door to make it clear he was expected to follow suit
"Only those at my immediate service will be permitted to stay behind and be spared, women and children will be spared, but any men left here who is not actively serving me, come the morning they will actively be serving the crows a fleshy feast" informed Morgan sitting back down on a setty, fingers tapping the arm rest impatiently.
"Come on... commoners... you heard the governor..." prompted and urged Merthyr leaving behind Pentre and Prodius to guard Morgan whilst he whistled his loyal knights to go outside, unsheathing his sword and approaching Calico's and Aynor's crews
"Outdoors or death" muttered Merthyr uncomfortable to have to force the men into definite danger, undertrain and under armed but in no position to counter the royal orders issued by Sir Henry Morgan in the name of the king.
Aynor and Calico immediately stopped their taunts and bickering raising to their feet and venturing outside
"If we get to the wretched castle, we are splitting the bounty and treasures half ways... Aynor..." informed Calico
"When we get to the wretched castle, we will indeed all get a fair share" accepted Aynor striking a quick truce against the two almost equally skilled rivals for the sake of survival and gold.
"Sir... get marching..." pointed out Merthyr looking at The Hanged Man and the door to make it clear he was expected to follow suit
The Hanged Man's lips thinned as Morgan proclaimed his rule over the town of Wakefield and all its residents. "Then you shall be the lord of drowning rats on a sinking ship," he muttered, perhaps not loud enough for anyone to hear, before turning back towards the counter. The elf woman was more inclined to give the lord a piece of her mind, but the Hanged Man knew Morgan's type, knew that her words would likely fall upon deaf ears. But the others ... the wanderer eyed Merthyr and Morgana as well as the knights. Perhaps they would be wiser.
The scream made him tense up, but he didn't stand right away. Perhaps he simply didn't care, or perhaps he was pushing Morgan's boundaries. He drained his brandy in one long, burning draught, then huffed and patted his sternum. With his pipestem clenched between his teeth, he got to his feet, stretched his left leg with a grimace, and made his way to the door as Merthyr pointed.
The hood of his white cloak did little to protect his face from the rain, and it was hard to see through the sheets of droplets hammering the dark streets. The embers in his pipe fizzled out almost immediately. People were scrambling in the streets, either towards the scream or away from it--the Hanged Man followed those who looked armed, and drew his own sword. The rain lashed against his huge shield in a tinny roar.
The scream made him tense up, but he didn't stand right away. Perhaps he simply didn't care, or perhaps he was pushing Morgan's boundaries. He drained his brandy in one long, burning draught, then huffed and patted his sternum. With his pipestem clenched between his teeth, he got to his feet, stretched his left leg with a grimace, and made his way to the door as Merthyr pointed.
The hood of his white cloak did little to protect his face from the rain, and it was hard to see through the sheets of droplets hammering the dark streets. The embers in his pipe fizzled out almost immediately. People were scrambling in the streets, either towards the scream or away from it--the Hanged Man followed those who looked armed, and drew his own sword. The rain lashed against his huge shield in a tinny roar.
Atropos had run blindly into the rain, and with the screaming now silenced, she could rely only on where it had been coming from. She darted between people, when another scream rang out- this time of a man, but in the opposite direction, closer to The Hanged Man.
A second one followed this, again a woman, and this time a person came with it, clutching her bleeding arm and stumbling. She fell to the mud near The Hanged Man and Krystalline, gasping and shaking, her eyes pinched shut. The woman appeared peculiar, with long hair, that appeared to be white, though perhaps it was the dark and the rain making it look such a color. Judging on the clothing she wore, she wasn’t a commoner, but perhaps of the Lord’s family? Either way the woman was strange, practically curling into herself and keeping her head low to her skirts.
“T-The beast—“ she choked out, her voice shaking, “It got him— the guard, it got him, I—“ she broke into sobs and her words became incoherent, her fingers gripping her arm tight.
A few guards moved in closer, wary of what lurked in the fog but attempting to help the woman. Atropos however, stood back, watching her with an eyebrow raised. She looked to The Hanged Man, then Krystalline, perhaps waiting for them to react.
A second one followed this, again a woman, and this time a person came with it, clutching her bleeding arm and stumbling. She fell to the mud near The Hanged Man and Krystalline, gasping and shaking, her eyes pinched shut. The woman appeared peculiar, with long hair, that appeared to be white, though perhaps it was the dark and the rain making it look such a color. Judging on the clothing she wore, she wasn’t a commoner, but perhaps of the Lord’s family? Either way the woman was strange, practically curling into herself and keeping her head low to her skirts.
“T-The beast—“ she choked out, her voice shaking, “It got him— the guard, it got him, I—“ she broke into sobs and her words became incoherent, her fingers gripping her arm tight.
A few guards moved in closer, wary of what lurked in the fog but attempting to help the woman. Atropos however, stood back, watching her with an eyebrow raised. She looked to The Hanged Man, then Krystalline, perhaps waiting for them to react.
The woman that fell into the mud nearby made her flinch, but ultimately, Krystal kept her cool. She listened to her words, frowning a bit at the mention of the so-called 'beast' roaming around the vicinity. She was completely silent after that, but she sighed after a moment or two, moving a bit closer to the woman.
"Hey, try and calm down, you're safe now. Where were you when you last saw the guard?" Krystal inquired, crossing her arms. As she awaited a response, she scanned the area for anything moving, now a bit on edge because of this new development.
"Hey, try and calm down, you're safe now. Where were you when you last saw the guard?" Krystal inquired, crossing her arms. As she awaited a response, she scanned the area for anything moving, now a bit on edge because of this new development.
"Rivalries aside... there's serious hoards of treasure to be had in there and the lord is dead already... lads... that means easy pickings once we get there, Morgan right the opposite end of it, with a noose too and itchy fingers... not sure about you lot... but I'm going. Now I am not one for sharing precious gold with any of them grubby guards or certain shiny tin men around here..." informed Blackbeard tilting the head sideways with a glare of contempt for The Hanged Man and Merthyr and those in armour, soon swtiching to a greedy sly smile as he eyed his new partner in crime, Aynor.
"We've tamed and ridden dragons before... can't be that big that can't be captured... but perhaps you are right, perhaps we ougt to lose that tail" nodded Aynor agreeing that they ought not to go with the knights and guards, not about to get themselves locked up by the justice just after catching a glimpse and sniff of the castle and its treasures.
"The fog is the key... it hides the creature that will lead us to the gold, lose the tail and nets out... could be one or many but by Neptune we'll get them and that gold or die trying" concluded Blackbeard
"Nay, nay, nay... bring the tin men... if sacrifices must be made to busy the beast... you know... throw a bone to the dog sort of thing... what a better offering than one already wrapped up eh?" mused Calico seeing benefit in keeping to the group even if to feed the knights and guards to the beast so they could take a better look at it.
"Them girls... they have the look and feel of proper rogues... and they are local too... they may well know a way forward" muttered Haldor scratching his chin thoughtfully as he cast his mind to focus on Atropos and Krystalline.
Aynor and Teach and Calico nodded watching their crews taking nets out and ropes and arms too as if they were going for a full assault upon a heavily guarded fortress.
"Honey... which way to the castle dear? Whilst these righteous bold and brave knights of the Old Code of Chivalry are busy taming beasts and saving damsels in distress, me and the lads have a very important rendez vous at certain treasure trove beyond... before morn preferrably... greedy paws is at the village impatient already..." asked Blackbeard nicknaming Morgan by his common trait, greed.
With a greedy grin, Blackbeard eyed Atropos and Krystalline briefly, waiting to be pointed the way, disregarding screams since those had come from opposite directions already so nowhere good enough to know the way for certain.
When it came to choose between uncertain death with an assured treasure to be found, or certain death without any treasure to be found, by staying at the village, they certainy didn't need further motivation. A few screams and torn limbs would hardly deter them for marching forth. Alas better the villagers be eaten than they themselves be hanged after all.
"We've tamed and ridden dragons before... can't be that big that can't be captured... but perhaps you are right, perhaps we ougt to lose that tail" nodded Aynor agreeing that they ought not to go with the knights and guards, not about to get themselves locked up by the justice just after catching a glimpse and sniff of the castle and its treasures.
"The fog is the key... it hides the creature that will lead us to the gold, lose the tail and nets out... could be one or many but by Neptune we'll get them and that gold or die trying" concluded Blackbeard
"Nay, nay, nay... bring the tin men... if sacrifices must be made to busy the beast... you know... throw a bone to the dog sort of thing... what a better offering than one already wrapped up eh?" mused Calico seeing benefit in keeping to the group even if to feed the knights and guards to the beast so they could take a better look at it.
"Them girls... they have the look and feel of proper rogues... and they are local too... they may well know a way forward" muttered Haldor scratching his chin thoughtfully as he cast his mind to focus on Atropos and Krystalline.
Aynor and Teach and Calico nodded watching their crews taking nets out and ropes and arms too as if they were going for a full assault upon a heavily guarded fortress.
"Honey... which way to the castle dear? Whilst these righteous bold and brave knights of the Old Code of Chivalry are busy taming beasts and saving damsels in distress, me and the lads have a very important rendez vous at certain treasure trove beyond... before morn preferrably... greedy paws is at the village impatient already..." asked Blackbeard nicknaming Morgan by his common trait, greed.
With a greedy grin, Blackbeard eyed Atropos and Krystalline briefly, waiting to be pointed the way, disregarding screams since those had come from opposite directions already so nowhere good enough to know the way for certain.
When it came to choose between uncertain death with an assured treasure to be found, or certain death without any treasure to be found, by staying at the village, they certainy didn't need further motivation. A few screams and torn limbs would hardly deter them for marching forth. Alas better the villagers be eaten than they themselves be hanged after all.
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