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Author Topic: The Courtyard Tavern and Inn  (Read 10172 times)
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Drea
Dangerous Doxy
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Human, Erpheronian


« on: January 29, 2010, 03:06:28 AM »

Eoghim Nahrvil limped over to the main door to the Courtyard Tavern and Inn and lifted the wooden beam that held the door locked tight.  It was time to open up the establishment for the day.  He looked about to see that the waitresses were ready, as well as the barkeep.  They were.

Nahrvil felt a deep pride here, having owned the Courtyard for over twenty years, since his days after getting out of the army.  Though his career as a soldier was cut short by a broken leg that never healed properly, it never dampened his desire to be near the troops or the Santhran that he loved.  In fact, occasionally Tiandor would grace his establishment by coming in and having a full glass of Bethelom Brandy that was kept special for the Santhran.

"Ferlin, I'm expecting a shipment of ale to come in this afternoon.  When it comes, let me know.  That shady merchant, Arloff, never gave me credit for the last payment I made.  If I don't talk to him now, I'll end up paying twice!"

The bartender, Ferlin, nodded.  "Okay, boss."

Nahrvil aught the attention of the waitresses.  "Ilyia and Ruje, before you go home tonight, come see me.  I have your salary."

The two serving girls both smiled as they prepared last minute details.

Satisfied he had given all the announcements he had planned on, Nahrvil limped into his small back office and sat down at his desk.  He grabbed a ledger book and began to scribble down numbers using his favourite quill.  Another good month, it seemed.  He grunted happily to himself.
« Last Edit: January 29, 2010, 03:07:34 AM by Drea » Logged

Drea's CD

Honour is within you, and cannot be taken away by others.  Neither highborn Knights with hollow souls, or gossiping harpies can break your spirit unless you let them.- Drea
Drea
Dangerous Doxy
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Posts: 448


Human, Erpheronian


« Reply #1 on: February 03, 2010, 04:34:24 PM »

Date: 25th Singing Bird, 6th Hour of Guardorans (2 AM)

Pipeweed smoke hung heavily in the air, while lute music and laughing balanced this lightly.  The Courtyard Inn and Tavern.  Drea was no stranger to this place, though not what one would consider a regular.  The serving girls smiled at her, recognizing her face but not her name or her preferred drink; Leithe.

Drea picked a corner table and sat, back to the wall so she could observe the room.  When her drink came, she took a few sips.  Oh yes, this is what she needed.  That, and a miyu bean that she washed down with her wine.

Her attention was directed to the doorway when an older man entered.  Usually she would pay little attention to a new patron, but there was something different about this man.  He wasn't particularly tall, or big, or even handsome, but he had an air to him that few men possessed.  He commanded respect.  His sharp eyes surveyed the room, locking on her for a second before moving on.  She could tell that it hadn't been a leer of attraction, but an assessment of her possible threat level.  The fact that he stopped on her for even that brief moment was proof that he had decided that she could pose a threat at all.  He was good.

He strode with purpose to the door that was a mere 10 or so fores from Drea's table.  He knocked sharply on it and waited, placing his hands on his hips.  His dress was not fancy, but fitted him well.  The sword on his hip was like the rest of him; plain but efficient.  

The door opened and Nahrvil stuck his bald head out.  Upon recognizing the man, he smiled brightly.  "Kedril!  How are you?  What brings you here this time of night?"

Kedril Behrns let the corners of his mouth turn upwards slightly, which was as close to a real smile as he usually allowed himself.  "Nahrvil.  Just came by to ask a couple of questions."

"Oh?"

"Oz Jackstrum.  He here last night?"

Nahrvil wrinkled his brow.  "What he do now?"

"He's dead.  We pulled his body out of the river today.  Along with fish, he smelled like he'd been drinking."

Nahrvil's eyes widened and he whistled.  "Dead?  Oh, my.  His wife...".

"Nahrvil!  Here?  Last night?"

"Oh, uhm, yes.  I had to ask him to leave last night.  He got drunk and started mouthing off to a few customers.  I think he was in a bad mood.  Might have lost his job or something from what I could make out."

Behrns tilted his head toward the room.  "Any of those people in here tonight?"

"You don't think...".  Seeing the constable's steely eyed stare, Nahrvil took a glance at the crowd.  "No, but I can tell you one name.  Myer Vudens, the blacksmith.  But you know Myer.  He's a big strong man but wouldn't hurt a fly.  The man cries more than most women I know.  The other's looked like travellers passing through."   He studied the constable, wondering what kept Behrns from accepting higher positions that would give him a cushy desk job somewhere.  Rumour had it that the Thane of New Santhala had offered the position himself.  But, Behrns had turned it down, preferring to stay a lowly investigator.  "Then Oz was murdered?"

Behrns pursed his lips and shook his head slowly.  "Looks like he fell in the river and drowned."

"But you are here asking questions anyway?"

"Just doin' my job, Nahrvil."

"Hmm mmm, it's your gut isn't it?  Your gut is telling you there is more to this."

"Good night, Nahrvil."  Behrns faced Drea for a brief second, and an almost imperceptible nod of recognition was given before he left the inn.

Drea finished her wine and stood up.  It was time to get back to the embassy.  She needed to make her rounds.
« Last Edit: February 07, 2010, 11:51:12 PM by Drea » Logged

Drea's CD

Honour is within you, and cannot be taken away by others.  Neither highborn Knights with hollow souls, or gossiping harpies can break your spirit unless you let them.- Drea
Ylaya
Temptress
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Elf, Coór'hém


« Reply #2 on: February 05, 2010, 12:02:28 AM »

Date: 25th Singing Bird, 6th Hour of Guardorans (2 AM)

A man sat at one of the tables in silence, his eyes fixed on what he saw infront of him. There lay the efforts of his labour, the currency by which he worked his life around and a comfortable life it was. Currency and profit was all that mattered to him and he stacked it high, one coin on the next. He took a swig of wine as he sat there, nothing mattered but himself, and he had taken the world by storm and made a healthy and respectable sum in the process. Now, what to do with all the money he had scammed off those fools?

He had nothing to worry about...he might not even have to work again. A smile broke the concentration as he let that thought settle in his mind. He was not the strongest man and no way near the bravest, but his wits and sneak had given him rewards in return. His eyes filled with greed remained fixed on his gold until...the next one entered.

Through the corner of his eye like any other person who kept his eye on thing always checking who would next enter, he watched. From the entrance the door opened and from the outside emerged a figure hidden under a dark black cloak. This figure was wary, looking around slowly and then closing the door abruptly. Few cared except the man sat his table with money yet still to be counted.

Something hung in the air, it was not the smell of food or the wine…what was it? It smelt...heavenly...out of place and immediately made him feel on edge, he was right to be.

From under her cloak Ylaya observed the tavern's contents reminding her of times that had come before. The filth of humans and the disgust they triggered was only just contained. Her long ears kept listening for any sign of unnatural movement. Who had been the figure that had just left the tavern? Ylaya had watched her from the shadows before entering, Someone to possibly avoid she thought.

Looking around and walking slowly through the tavern she saw the music and laughter of scum, vermin and drink to waste senses that should never be abused. Her heels clicked on the floor gathering some stares by a few as to what she hid beneath the cloak.  

The man slowly sat back in his chair, was this figure looking for him? Had his last business transaction failed? Did they want him dead? He suppressed thought by drinking some more wine and continued to stack the currency on his table. He felt slightly tired, but tense, that smell still hung in the air, it had gotten stronger, it was the perfume of a woman...the figure? His temperature slowly increased.

Suddenly a sound triggered Ylaya's ears that picked up the continuous stacking of coins. She found the source and looked over. A humble man sat there slumped low content with the thrills of alcohol and the incredible "power" of having some money. Perhaps she would sit with this man.

Slowly walking over to his table she turned before reaching the end, there was only him there, one arched bench...perfect situation.

"Hello...do you mind if I share this table with you" she said calmly with a soft voice.

It was obvious she was a female, her voice gave it away.

He was shocked, there were many tables, and this break in his concentration was not foreseen for he had turned his back to the figure. He assessed the situation, would it be better to refuse the woman or not? After noticing the voice was that of a female the thought of her being any kind of assassin slipped his mind...perhaps he was being too paranoid. After all he did not know...this person might just be a friendly individual passing through. He relaxed and gave his answer.

"Yes, you can sit down" he said slightly on edge.

She moved in to the sit at the far edge of the opposite end of the curved bench, if all went well she would not be there for long.

The table they sat at was not in the main frame and on the edge of the tavern covered by a screen under the table. Ylaya had picked this up the moment she entered.

How was it best to play this? she thought as exchanges of silence seemed out of place amoung the lively setting of the tavern.

He had stopped counting his money for now as he sat there taking a swig of wine every now and then before looking around. He seemed agitated by her presence. She looked at him, eyes only partially visible, but still so intoxicating and drew him to look at her, although she was not even visible under the long cloak.  

"So, you have....you have traveled a long wayy then?"
he said with the confidence of a mouse when faced with a cat.

Her head nodded slowly as she responded with a whispered "Yes" as she stretched her legs under the table.

Feeling his blood boil under the skin he took off the coat that had originally kept him at a reasonable temperature. From under the table he felt the touch of her boot that from making first contact with his shoes now ran up the bottom half of his leg. This caressing left his lust hungering for more, the money, the wealth all seemed like nothing when compared with such mild affection. Why was this even coming to him anyway? This question he asked him within his mind as he enjoyed the attention.

Silence had now become awkward as he did not want this feeling to stop. Ylaya with her extensive knowledge knew exactly was she was doing and moved over, slowly shuffling herself along the arched bench over to him. He did not notice with all his watchfulness and did not care.

He eventually found himself right belong side her and the silence continued. He had another drink as her hand reached down to grab the one he had kept hidden under the table and with that hand she placed it on the top of her leg and allowed him to feel the softness of her skin. The hand wandered to find her leg to be not entirely bare, for it had a stocking held up on. His eyes and head turned to her completely under her spell.

She then spoke her lips being watched by his eyes with such curiosity.

"Perhaps I could make you an offer...I see you are obviously a merchant" she said as she lent on him

All thoughts of money escaped his mind, but he wanted to see this offer she had for him being the "respectable" merchant he was.

"Yes, that is correct, but, what do you want to offer"
he said to her still caught under her spell. Her hand removed his and placed it back from where it had originally been positioned.

"Better that I show you upstairs in one of the rooms, this object is one of most value" she said partly being playful in her tone.

"Ok then, well I already have a room, but you will have to excuse me whilst I just gather these coins up on this table" he said not expecting anything.

They departed upstairs to his room, the wooden floor creaky and the walls partly stained. He put his old key in the door as she stood behind him.

"After you" he said allowing her to enter first.

She did quickly, still hidden under her long black cloak. He had still not caught a glimpse of her yet. Ylaya was getting everything her own way, the way she liked it.

He then entered and left the key in the door. She then threw a purse onto the bed, its contents unknown. He went over to the bed to see what the purse held as she stood at the door. Quickly Ylaya removed the key from the outside of the door and put it in the whole on the inside of the door. Her cloak then fell on the dusty floor revealing her true form underneath.

Completely lost on this the man opened the purse expecting a piece of jewellery or trinket to find nothing. His face showed confusion and then he jumped slightly when the sound of the door being locked from the inside made him turn round to lay eyes on a beauty he had not imagined was possible to find…all thoughts of invincibility and the value of the money he stole completely left his thoughts. She was so very beautiful…
« Last Edit: February 07, 2010, 11:51:26 PM by Drea » Logged

Ylva Rasmussan
Oddball Healer
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Human, Murmillion.


« Reply #3 on: February 05, 2010, 08:03:09 AM »

Date: 25th Singing Bird, 6th Hour of Guardorans (2 AM)


After several hours spent stalking in the darkness, Dorian Noone skulked into the Courtyard, tired but cheery. As always, he had to battle through the heaving crowd of jovial customers, drinking and enjoying themselves after hours spent working in stuffy offices and serving their masters. The regulars paid him no heed, pushing past him, ignoring him, and almost trampling him to the ground. Being inconspicuous and unnoticeable had its downsides. The ratty man finally managed to reach the counter, “Hullo, Ferlin!” He grinned at the barman, who just stared back at him with a blank expression on his face.

“You know me?”

The envoy was used to this; his ratty face was a very forgettable one. Still it would be nice for at least the barman to recognise one of his main customers. “I come here every week Ferlin. Is Ru-?” He froze for a moment, out the corner of his eye he had spotted a distinctly familiar figure sitting at a table. The beauty that was Drea. “-je in?” His heart did several leaps and a double somersault. Ah, sweet warrior princess with glowing skin and sharp eyes...

The bodyguard didn’t look like she wanted company. But before he even had time to debate going over there, the spy spotted a much less welcome person making their way through the door. Every criminal and thief in New Santhala knew of Constable Behrns. The man was the worst kind of policeman. Incorrupt. Quick as a spid, the ex-criminal dived under a nearby table.

"Kedril!  How are you?  What brings you here this time of night?" Dorian heard old Nahrvil, the owner of the tavern, greet the watchman.

"Nahrvil.  Just came by to ask a couple of questions."
It appeared that he was in the perfect spot to listen in. Not being one to miss an opportunity, the spy carried out his job description. On all fours, the envoy silently crawled a bit closer to the conversation.

"Oh?"

"Oz Jackstrum.  He here last night?"


Dorian's features contorted in thought, Oz Jackstrum? He’d heard that name before. A horrid churning started to creep up from his stomach, winding its way up his back. The spy dreaded what he knew he was going to hear next.

"What he do now?"

"He's dead.”
Oh I bloody knew it....

The envoy remembered when he’d heard his friend Guillemot Quinn mention Oz Jackstrum.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Seven years ago, Dorian had been caught by the Griffins league stealing several of its members’ archives. He’d been offered a choice, die or serve. He’d chosen the latter and had got stuck signing up as a lowly soldier, forced to volunteer to be part of a small raiding party that planned to attack the Gob-oc in the highlands to “play them at their own game and truly show them who they are dealing with!”.

Dorian knew who the orcs were dealing with, a bunch of arrogant suicidal idiot nobles, who thought they could run about the Highlands, killing beings that were stronger and bigger than them.

 Five long years of trekking the savage cold snowy highlands, attacking and running away from their beastly enemy.

It was after one of their many retreats, they had made camp in the foothills. His joints ached; stabbing pains ran through his calves. The reluctant soldier glared at his commanding officer as he issued a command for no fires to be lit. No fires meant them freezing in their leather armour, trying to get to sleep with itchy sore chilblains all over his body. At least they’d eat well, even through the food would be cold. Men were sent out to scavenge, bringing back a few handfuls of doch nuts and some red berries. The captain even let them have some of the meat rations as well. After weeks of going on nothing but hard bread and salt, this was a feast.

Dorian slumped down next to his new friend, and chewed on the sliver of tough and salty boar meat, making the taste last as long as possible. “I swear to you, I’m going to kill that man.”

The red haired soldier looked up, “Who?”

“Our coor-ridden captain...how many people died in the last skirmish? I counted the people that were missing, twenty, that’s now almost half the regiment dead and we’re still running about the highlands. It was better working for the underground, you were warmer, paid more and the food was hot.”

“You’d also be hung by the neck by now.” The redhead replied, and just poked at his food, quietly mumbling a tune to himself, “When the Rovers get into town...all the Rover ladies...”
 The man was a strange fellow; he hardly ate, never complained and did everything the captain said. He appeared to be highly educated and yet he was just a soldier. The captain treated the red haired soldier strangely, like he was scared of him.

Dorian frowned, recognising the tune that his friend was humming. “You speak posh but you know the tune to Rover Nan? What sort of noble are ya?”

“One that isn’t really that noble. I’m a bastard.”

“You’re not really that much of a bastard. More just reserved.“

The red haired man sighed, “I mean, that my mother bore me while not in wedlock....“  For a while Dorian’s friend remained silent, he just sat there examining the slight frost bite on his hands as if it wasn’t hurting him. Without looking up, he answered Dorian’s initial question. “I was taught the words to Rover Nan by my father’s horse master, Oz Jackstrum. He was a very good man, very wise and sagely, shame about the drinking problem. My father let him go after that....”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dorian just sat under the table in shock. He didn’t notice that the policeman had left, or even that he was no longer blessed by the fair lady Drea’s presence. He didn't even notice the stunning elf that passed him on her way to a rather greedy man's table.

The spy had been friends with Quinn for over seven years. He was best man at Quinn’s wedding, standing up in front of all the nobility, shocking them in his grubby shirt and waistcoat. The ex-thief should just stay silent, he shouldn’t have care about this, he’d tried to kill people in the past, he’d stolen, blackmailed and bribed, his moral compass was a bit off course.

Yet, he did care.

The spy finally climbed out from under the table, and clambered out the busy tavern into the quiet street. The skinny man melted into the crowd, and made his way to Quinn’s home, determined to talk to his friend, to ask him why he had killed an innocent man.


« Last Edit: February 09, 2010, 06:44:05 AM by Ylva Rasmussan » Logged
Ylaya
Temptress
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Elf, Coór'hém


« Reply #4 on: February 07, 2010, 04:50:15 AM »

Date: 25th Singing Bird, 6th Hour of Guardorans (2 AM)


The long dark cloak that had originally shaded the full view of her body slipped off of Ylaya as she turned after locking the door. Her hands were placed on either side of the door as if she intentionally blocked the way out. The greedy man's eyes were placed on her for she was intoxicating and there was now no escape. Her eyes possessed an alluring quality to them and her white skin so clear and beautiful made his head move forward slightly. He was completely under her spell.

His mouth drooled as he bore witness to her physique and legs. The fact she wore so little made the experience even more thrilling for him, he had never seen such a creature in his entire life. Her hair dropped down, it was too incredible to behold for him.  One of her hands moved down and grabbed the edge pulling on it tightening the already tight garment. She enjoyed the practice, for it might soon be needed to be employed against a potential target, for now, this was only a trial. Her eyes closed as one of her legs moved forward, the heel fell on the floor and her arm extended. The other arm remained by her waste and undid the two straps that held her armour onto her legs.

There was a sudden crash as the armour that had coated her lower legs fell to the wooden floor leaving the stockings and boot to remain on their own.

"I was wondering if you could fill that purse" she said softly as she opened her eyes and bit her lip. Her face was playful and her gloved hand pointed towards it similarly playful. There was something about her that made him lose control over his power as a man to control situations...that power was now gone.

She slowly approached him one heel infront of the other with arms stretched out forward. Her hands immediately fell on his cheeks and as her head moved in she kissed him almost aggressively satisfying his lust for the present time, however she was ultimately in control. She pressed herself against him with passion as he felt vulnerable and enjoyed the sensation, perhaps the first time such a sensation had been felt. Yet, the passion she expressed was a complete artificial one, the truth was she had no desire for this man, she wanted something else.

Slowly but surely she pressed him back onto the bed and allowed him to touch her around the waste and legs, her stockings were slowly being pulled down. Yet her short skirt that lay in the middle of her legs still held and protected what he was not going to have. He lay back on the bed letting the atmosphere of this encounter drive the situation. Her skin was soft and she smiled as her gloved hands kept him busy...

Slowly but surely he grew more and more confident in his need to satisfy the lust and obsession with her. She sensed this, now it was time for questions and to end this one, he had received far more than he ever deserved in this life.

"So all that money you counted on the table, yours?" she said as her hand reached for the back of her waist and a compartment on the back of her skirt.

"Yes...well...it was someone else’s but I acquired it through means that you would not understand my lovely lady...and that small percentage down stairs was nothing compared to what I acquired in total."
he said dazed with eyes closed.

She pressed one hand against his neck as the other grabbed the strong long piece of metal wire in the compartment. This hand carried the wire over his head and behind it. It was wrappd around her glove to make it shorter. She then slipped it under his neck without him even noticing, he was much too busy enjoying himself.

"But where is it?"
she said intensely moving her gloved hand on his chest, her nails digging in making his blood boil even more.

"Ohh..it..its over there in the cupboard" he said drunkenly with his hand pointing in the direction of the cupboard. He was completely oblivious to the metal wire or that she had noticed his hand moving under her skirt. His heart was pounding with intensity as a sudden jolt of pain became apparent behind his neck.

"Well...it seems you have filled my purse and more then"
she said sharply as both hands pulled the wire and tightened it around his neck. His hands quickly removed themselves from where they had been and flew over to his neck where the pain and tightening restricted his breathing. No one would ever place their hands there without her permission, especially men who were inferior.

He struggled with his hands trying to free the wire, but it was too small to remove and the tightness stopped him from tackling her.

"Whattau...doing?" he spoke as he could barely breath.  She did not give him a response and just smiled, eyes portraying an evil sense of joy in his futile attempt to struggle for survival. However this was moving too fast, time to make his torture last a little longer and accelerate the pain.

Her legs quickly moved around his waste as her hands reduced grip to allow him to breath, but it would take him time to recover...this time he did not have. Her legs now applied intense pressure on his waste from both sides crushing his pelvis slowly, but surely. Now his hands that were so focused on his neck moved to try to force her off of his waste, but failed, he was weak.

She smiled at his suffering and eventually relieved the pressure only to be kicked by him onto the floor, however, that last kick was the last movement his legs would ever make. He now panicked, adrenaline rushing in the dark room, he fell off the bed onto the floor and began to crawl.

She stood and looked at him crawling on the floor with no chance of survival, she would not let him escape out of here alive, and his futile attempt to escape the room was a waste of time. As he moved crawling away crying in agony she slowly moved behind him, heels making the sound of his doom on the floor behind him.

"You thought I would let you do the things you were allowed to do for fun or the pay of a prostitute...no...I wanted your currency...all of it and to watch you suffer" she said coldly and with a strong voice.

As she said this she reached him on the floor and placed floor in-between his legs and on the side as her foot then moved to place the sharp spike of her heel in his back. The pain that followed made him scream and cry again in even more agony. She trampled on him like dirt and after all, that was what he was. His face was plunged onto the wooden floor with force and his mouth now rubbed against the floor.

"You should count yourself lucky you were the first victim and not the last in this region of cloak and daggers" she said playfully with a snigger.

She then allowed him to roll over onto his back and look up to her. She had her legs spread on either side of him, her eyes looked down on him with fury, his money, his sneak now counted for nothing. He had been tempted by the tempertress and lost.

From either side of the back of her legs blades concealed were now drawn by her hands. They were jagged and sharp. Weapons designed for murder or torture, his eyes that were once filled with joy to behold her beauty now cowered in this face of these weapons wielded by a dark beauty that had ultimately left him immobile.

He closed his eyes waiting for the end and was surprised to be granted a kiss as she knelt over him, blade still in hand.

"Do not worry, you money will be well spent" she said with a sense of power over him as he opened his eyes for the last time. Her mouth was then removed from his face as her blades swung from both sides to slice his neck from two directions. Not a quick and definitely not a painless death, that was Ylaya.

His blood spilling on the wooden floor she cleaned her blades covered with blood on his expensive new clothes. She then placed them back in their original position as she moved over to the cupboard. She smiled, currency was not a necessity for her like it had been for him, but it would help finance any operation in the future or any deal that had to be done to make sure she never ended up like the corpse that now lay in the room with her.

She looked at him, pelvis broken, strangled neck sliced in two places. He would need to be gotten rid of before he stunk up the place she thought. But how? Would it be easier to move the money instead? What was the next move for her? These questions she pondered as she pulled up her stockings and strapped her armour back on...she now had to find a new client who could offer her the power she craved.
« Last Edit: February 07, 2010, 11:51:56 PM by Drea » Logged

Ylaya
Temptress
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Elf, Coór'hém


« Reply #5 on: February 08, 2010, 03:17:59 AM »

Ylaya picked up her black cloak and hood that had been shed just before the act, now they would be needed again for anyone could be watching her and it was best to go undiscovered in this kind of territory. She now put her dark cloak back on after getting dressed. She took one of the pouches full of coins from the cupboard and quickly opened the door and left the room. The room number was "5", this she remembered and with the key she locked the door. She looked each way in the corridor, checking and then walked back downstairs to the main bar at the front.

She placed her elbow on the side of the far end of the bar and waited. There were few at this end and she stayed there in silence for a few minutes preparing to make an “offer” of sorts to the unlikely soul to make contact with her. Soon, one of the tenders came fourth to offer her a drink, he was known as Ferlin…but his name mattered not to her, only that he fulfilled the terms.

"Can I offer you a drink stranger?..."
he said calmly before pausing as she sighed and looked at him, trying to act innocent and slightly distressed.

"...are you ok?"
he said moving his head closer trying to get a better look at the person he could barely see under the hood and cloak.

"I'm fine..." she said slowly as he noticed it was a woman under there.

"...but I was wondering if you could do something for me?"
she said, again partly distressed.

He looked at her curiously.

"...there is some contents in room "5" that needs to be moved"
she continued as one hand pushed the leather pouch full of money forward.

"What sort of contents?" he said nervously with shifty eyes as if the whole tavern watched the two of them.

"A man, but the details don't concern you…only the conditions, I want him gotten rid of”
she said as he came across very nervously.


“Now I can tell your not the owner here, but you want the deal or not?"
she spoke with a firm voice as a blade appeared underneath the cloak and she placed the key infront of him.

He saw the blade and responded "and if I refuse or decide to inform...?"

He was cut mid sentence as she butted in "Well...let's just say in that situation you might end up in a worse state than that of the man who now stains the floor upstairs...and I'm sure that once you see his body you won't want any further entanglements or conflict in this peaceful establishment your boss has built up...all you have to do is simply tidy the room for my return"

She pushed the pouch closer to him and said "I think you have a bargain"

"Ok...I'll do that for you, but where to move this body?"
he said again quite nervously.

"Anywhere, dispose of it, somewhere few are going to look" she said plainly as she withdrew the blade.

He took the money she had placed on the side of the bar. She knew he would concede and that is why she had sat closer to the end he occupied.

"Thank you" she said to end the conversation, "It was a pleasure to do buissness with you and if you hear anything else in here that might interest me just note it down for I will be back soon and I would like to know what is going on, ok?"

"Sure." he said with slight hesitation, for he was worried, now he had the responsibility of getting rid of a body and if he didn't...well...that future was better left unresolved.

"Good, now remember our arrangement, that body had better be gone by the time I get back...and...try not to make a mess." she said in a playful way as he nodded. She then left the side of the bar and moved towards and out of the exit, heels clicking on the floor as drunk men were now running out of the will to drink anymore. She looked around, there was a strange atmosphere in the streets, perhaps she might find someone willing to employ her services after all.
« Last Edit: February 09, 2010, 07:01:25 AM by Ylaya » Logged

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« Reply #6 on: February 08, 2010, 10:27:42 AM »

Date: 29th Singing Bird, 2nd Hour of Guardorans (10PM)

Eyimon Sorossa had left the monastery in central Sanguia a week ago. The week before that he had been, for all intents and purposes, a monk. "Spend three quarters of the year in the name of all good people but one for your own soul" the codex said and it was for three months that he had stayed in the monastery. Peace, but it was good to be out and about again. He had borrowed a horse from the monastery, the trip to New-Santhala was not a short one after all.

And so it was that he found himself at the door to the Courtyard Tavern and Inn. He himself had not visited the establishment. He had never had much call to visit New-Santhala and yet it was to New-Santhala he traveled. One of the monks had said that the owner was a man of decent character, or so he had heard, and it was hardly likely that one would lie to a monk.

Face veiled in humility, white robes stained with travel dust, Eyimon dismounted his horse and lead it towards the inn.

« Last Edit: February 09, 2010, 12:09:40 AM by Ylva Rasmussan » Logged

For ten years I have been polishing this sword;
Its frosty edge has never been put to the test.
Now I am holding it and showing it to you, sir:
Is there anyone suffering from injustice?
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« Reply #7 on: February 10, 2010, 12:53:36 AM »

Date: 29th Singing Bird, 2nd Hour of Guardorans (10PM)


Dorian Noone was not in a good mood as he clambered down from the rooftops, rolling down a nearby outhouse and daintily falling to the ground on all fours like a cat.

Rudely ducking past a dusty white robed knight and his horse, the envoy breezed into the inn, going through his usual struggle to get to the counter.

This night the crowds mostly consisted of butlers and attendants, cleaners and maids. Their masters were at the Nermeran embassy ball, they practically had the whole night off. Tomorrow, in the very early hours of the morning, they would clean up after their employers; carrying them home, bringing them Soobrish and cleaning their colourful outfits, which probably will be stained with drink, food and gods knows what else.

But that was tomorrow, tonight they were having their own little party in The Courtyard.

The spy spotted the nervous and jittery barman serving drinks to his customers, his smile not quite true. Poor Ferlin was probably experiencing the worse couple of days in his life. It had started with that damn hooded woman, threatening him and just dumping a body on him. Before that, the barman had had a simple life; he'd let customers complain to him about their stress and worries, while he'd possessed none. He served drinks, cleaned the inn, perhaps even brushing down the stables if he felt like going through the trouble of stinking like horse manure. It had been a wonderfully calm life.

And then suddenly he was left with a damn dead body in room 5!

He’d managed to close the inn and drag the thing down into the cellars, dumping it in one of the salt barrels. But the poor man had no idea what to do with it. Should he tell Nahrvil that he had a dead man in his cellar? As much as he respected the owner of the Courtyard, he really didn’t want to get on the man’s bad side. He didn’t want his head on the block. If old Nahrvil found out about this, not even the Shoals would save Ferlin.

He’d managed to keep it secret from his employer so far, Ferlin made sure that he was the only one to sneak down into the cellars to collect the barrels. Ruje and Ilyia just thought it was sweet that Ferlin was being a gentleman by letting them not do any of the hard labour. Oh if they only knew the truth.

The barman had tried to keep calm and carry on as if everything was normal, that there wasn’t a rotting corpse beneath the floorboards. For the days since then he’d been as jumpy as a leverat. He didn‘t think it couldn get any worse.

Then the bald man had come, he’d come two days ago, in the very early hours of the morning. Waltzing into the empty tavern, smiling a rather worringly happy smile, "Ello, leverat!“

The barman carried on cleaning mugs, even though his hands were shaking slightly. "We’re closed until dawn, sir. Please come back in a few hours time.“

"Sorry, but I’m here not to drink one of your refreshing beverages. In fact, I’m here to inquire after you.“ The smug man leaped up onto one the stools. "My client and I, are so very worried about you little Ferlin. You’ve been a bit jumpy lately, a bit, out of sorts. We just want to know what’s wrong, whether we can do anything to help.“

The barman stepped back slightly, "Nowt wrong, things couldn’t be better."

The man sighed and shook his head, "You don’t have to lie to me, Ferlin,“ Suddenly he grabbed the barman’s hand, slamming it down on the counter. With his other hand, he grabbed one of the metal ale mugs and slammed it down on Ferlin’s hand with a loud whack. The barman yowled from the searing pain that wound it’s way up his arm.

"Tell me everything.“

Ferlin had buckled instantly, he didn’t care about the woman’s threats, she wasn’t there trying to crush his hand with a mug. The man had let him go, he’d even smiled and said that they would send someone to help him get rid of the body. It’d been two days, no one had turned up yet.

“Hello again, Ferlin.” The barman had almost jumped, turning round to see an unfamiliar face. The young barman frowned and asked with uncertainty, “Do I know you?...Erm....are you here to....you know...collect the body-“
“-Yes,“ The ragged and tired figure answered back, leaning to whisper, ”And for gods’ sakes, man, don’t speak of it here! One of your customers might hear....”

The barman opened a hatch that lay underneath the bar itself, and led Dorian down into the cellar. The envoy sighed, he’d worked for the underground in the past, but always as an informant, a thief, even a very shoddy killer. He’d never been the one who cleaned up after the mess. He felt sorry for those poor souls as he realised what they'd risked every day.

The quivering man before him pulled open one of the barrels, revealing the dead mangled body inside. A retchingly smelly combination of salt and slowly rotting flesh filled the dark cellar.

The spy sighed, covering his mouth with his grubby sleeve, "Is there any other way out this cellar apart from upstairs? You must have another way out, another hatch leading to the outside for when stock comes in...”

The barman shook his head. “It’s a very old building and a very crowded part of town, there’s no room for hatch, we have to carry all the stock through the inn from the back door, down these stairs. Please help me; Nahrvil is going to be back in an hour or so!”

Dorian’s heart sank. Oh, drelldung....

It certainly couldn’t stay here any longer. They were going to have to carry the barrel upstairs, and then roll it out the back entrance. They could then use the inn’s cart to transport it to the river. A couple of very heavy rocks and the thing would sink into the dark murky yellowish waters of the Thaehelvil.

After replacing the lid firmly, the two men slowly carried the heavy barrel up the stairs and through the hatch into the bar. Several customers wanting more drinks were ignored as the two carried the thing outside, leaving a tiny trickle of salty red liquid as they went. Customers reeled as they smelt the horrid smell, Dorian smiled nervously and shouted quickly, "Sorry folks, meats gone off, I’m just helping Ferlin take it to the dog butchers!“

"Not even fit for dogs!“ Barked back one rotund man as he sniffed the putrid air.

Outside, the two partners in crime managed to lift the barrel onto the cart, hoping that no one was around to watch. They stood there panting for a moment, trying to get back their breath to finish the job and take it down to the river. Unluckily the barrel was jousled a bit by Ferlin. "Oh, feffin falls and fells!" Cursed the envoy, trying to grab it as it suddenly rolled off the back of the cart.

With a loud whump it hit the street floor, from its side, a piece of panelling broke off, revealing the dead man’s white arm as it fell out limply onto the cobbles.


« Last Edit: February 23, 2010, 08:50:28 PM by Ylva Rasmussan » Logged
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« Reply #8 on: February 10, 2010, 02:06:12 AM »

Thump! Crack! Bang! Judging from the sounds, someone was having some trouble lifting something. Eyimon tied his horse to a nearby fixture and went to go look for the source of the noise. Perhaps someone needed help.
Eyimon, if I had a bard for every time you got yourself into something by thinking like a peace-blinded fool... well I swore an oath of poverty, so I'd simply have quite a bit of money to use on the monastery roof or something similar. The upbraiding Master Jaeodin had given him after the incident that had lost him his eye. The memory was still quite fresh. Look cautiously for the source of the noise. It could just be a cat.

Eyimon walked up the side of the building, attempting to be quiet while not appearing to creep. He lifted off his veil and folded it neatly as he did so. Some people didn't know what it meant and it might get in the way if whoever it was needed help. Eyimon had his eyepatch on (the false eye was not practical when traveling) and so nearly tripped over his own feet at one point.

Upon sticking his head around the corner Eyimon found two men, struggling with a barrel now apparently leaking salt and... "that's an arm." Eyimon thought to himself. He could not quite see the faces of the men now attempting to hoist the barrel back up. - "Be honest and true in all your decisions.", "Help those that can not help themselves even to the expense of your own life.", "Follow the paths of Nehtor to heal the wounds of the world.", "Eyasha's dream should be your dream.", "Respect the advise of the Elder.", "Spend three quarters of the year in the name of all good people but one for your own soul."
The codex was no help here at all.
[/i]

Eyimon placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and stepped around the corner.
"I would ask what you are doing neighbours, but I thin that would be easier if you couldn't run away."
Logged

For ten years I have been polishing this sword;
Its frosty edge has never been put to the test.
Now I am holding it and showing it to you, sir:
Is there anyone suffering from injustice?
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« Reply #9 on: February 11, 2010, 09:38:58 AM »

Date: 29th Singing Bird, 2nd Hour of Guardorans (10PM)



Ferlin nervously jumped from one foot to the other, beads of sweat clinging to his forehead, “Maybe I should just tell Nahrvil-”

“No.” Dorian Noone barked back, “Too late.” The envoy looked over at the jittery barman. The poor guy really hadn’t thought this whole thing through.

If he’d gone to the Watch immediately, risked being killed by the murderer, well, the guards would have looked kindly on him. They would have said that he’d done a brave thing.

But the barman hadn’t done that. Ferlin had done, what any ordinary soul does in this situation, scared and unsure what to do, he’d hid the evidence, pretended that it wasn’t happening to him; that he didn’t have to deal with it.

Dorian actually felt sorry for the man. If the Watch caught them now, his whole life might be ruined.

For a start, he’d lose his job at The Courtyard. The ex-criminal knew that the law defenders of this world were strict. For aiding a murderer, he’d probably be incarcerated to a long while. Perhaps have a hand chopped off or something. He might even become a suspect for the murder itself. Any respect or pride that he had held for himself would soon be lost. A man like Ferlin didn’t possess the will to survive in a jail cell with their soul and dignity intact. Even after he left jail, no tavern owner would want him to work for them, not someone who’d let a murder happen in their pub.

If he was lucky, perhaps he’d end up as a labourer or a servant, though not many lords or merchants put their trust in convicted men. The barman might be forced to take work no one else wanted. He could become a fuller or a waste farmer; or someone who walked barelegged through lakes and rivers collecting leeches for money. Those kinds of jobs grinded your life down so much that a life of crime and thievery sounded so much brighter. That is, till you were caught again...then you spiralled down even farther into the bleak.

Dorian sighed; the barman really had no idea how much trouble he was in.

And the spy didn’t have the guts to tell him.

Perhaps it was better if the man had hope, that he kept thinking his life would stay intact. Better for him to assume that he wouldn’t be tainted by this.

Dorian frantically tried to cram the floppy arm back into the barrel. It’s just an arm; nobody is gonna notice an arm, right? As long as we get the barrel to the river, everything will be fine....

The two men were heaving the barrel back onto the cart when they heard a voice coming from behind them.

"I would ask what you are doing neighbours, but I think that it would be easier if you couldn't run away."

Armeros's teeth!

Both men froze, letting go of the barrel so that it clunked to the floor. Their heads turned slowly to see the witness to their crime. The same man Dorian had dodged on his way into the tavern, with his white robes and an eyepatch on his right eye.

From what Dorian managed to deduce, their chances of escape were slim. The blond  haired man was wearing the Triest, which meant only one thing to the spy. He’s a damn white knight! By the nine-tailed cat of Minich! Why couldn’t it have been someone we could have bribed, or at least threatened, not a do-gooding smarty pants with a sword!

Dorian sighed, his shoulders' sagging, they’d been so close, if this damn man hadn’t come, everything would have been fine. Now Dorian was trying to keep calm, turning to his partner in crime and whispering, “We found him in your cellar, and were just taking him to the watch. Say anything else, and my client will track you down and have wargs feast on your bones, got it?”

Ferlin’s eyes widened in fear, his pupils rolled back in their sockets, the poor man swayed slightly then fainted to the floor with a flump. Obviously the poor man’s nerves had had enough.

Hmm perhaps threatening him wasn’t the smartest move...

With the barman now unconscious, Dorian was on his own. Perhaps the skinny man could blag his way out of this, but success was as likely as his new best friend Ferlin growing a backbone....The envoy could stay and fight, and yet any attempt appeared futile since the man was clearly carrying a weapon, while Dorian had nothing in his pockets but a lock pick.

The skinny ragged man glanced at the knight, a guilty look written across his face. Staying to try to explain seemed futile. Dorian wasn’t an adventurer; he wasn’t a hero but an ex-thief, and still a criminal at heart. I’m not going back. The spy listened to his gut instinct. Grabbing the nearest bag from the cart and chucking it at the blond man’s face, the criminal turned to leg it down the back street into the dark night.

His feet pounding the cobbles as he ran, taking a left, then a right into a market square with people trading even at this time of night. The spy pushed and dodged past strangers, burrowing through the thick crowd, turning over stalls, anything to get away from anyone chasing him. Would the knight be chasing him? Dorian didn’t care; the spy was just damn sure that he wasn’t going to get caught by anyone, not that knight, not the guards, not even damn constable Behrns.

The skinny envoy rolled underneath a parked carriage and dived through an open window into someone’s home. A large family blinked surprisingly at him as he escaped through the back door into the back alleys. Not pausing for breath, the man ran down to the end of the alley and began to nimbly climb up the stonework, pulling himself up onto the roof.

Dorian carefully tiptoeing across the tiles, the ex-thief got to the end of the rooftop only to find that there was nowhere to go.

Damn.

The spy turned to see if any apprehenders had followed him. If they hadn’t, he was safe. If they had, it was unlikely that he’d escape. As he waited, the view he had, standing up on the top of that grey stone building, all that dark cloudy night sky and tiled rooftops, thatched rundown homes and broken roofs that needed fixing, it seemed so very beautiful.
« Last Edit: February 14, 2010, 07:37:38 PM by Ylva Rasmussan » Logged
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« Reply #10 on: February 11, 2010, 11:13:16 PM »

Date: 29th Singing Bird, 2nd Hour of Guardorans (10PM)

The roof? Why did people always feel the need to run onto a roof? They'd be just as likely to trip and break their necks up there.

Eyimon was terrible at climbing. He looked at the body of the now-escaping man's accomplice. Was he dead? Eyimon ran over to the prone figure. His heart was still beating. Small graces he supposed. He had the body and he had the accomplice. Eyimon slung the unconcious man over his shoulder, Nethor's Beard! But this one was light! Eyimon contemplated trying to pick up the barrel, but settled for righting it and shifting it against the side of the building for the time being.

He strode around the side of the inn and through the door.
"I don't suppose anyone knows who this is?" Eyimon announced as he laid the unconscious man down on one of the tables. Thinking quickly Eyimon added "He's still quite alive, don't worry."
Logged

For ten years I have been polishing this sword;
Its frosty edge has never been put to the test.
Now I am holding it and showing it to you, sir:
Is there anyone suffering from injustice?
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« Reply #11 on: February 12, 2010, 04:03:25 AM »

Date: 29th Singing Bird, 3rd Hour of Guardorans (11PM)

Behrns entered the Courtyard and was immediately set upon by Nahrvil.  The older man ran a nervous hand over his bald pate.  "Oh, am I glad to see you.  It's terrible.  Terrible, I say."

Behrns reached out and placed a hand on the bar owners shoulder.  "Calm down, Nahrvil.  Tell me what happened?"

Nahrvil turned and pointed to the white robed man.  "That man came upon Ferlin and another man loading a barrel of salt onto a wagon with a body in it.  A body of one of my patrons!"

"And the other man?  Where is he now?"

Nahrvil shook his head.  "I don't know.  He apparently ran off when the man interrupted him."

Behrns nodded, then turned to his team.  "Vyddles, you take Nahrvil here and check the body.  See what clues you can find."

"Yes, boss!"  Vyddles followed Nahrvil from the inn.

"Pella, you talk the knight.  Find out what he saw."  Behrns walked over to the bartender and grabbed him roughly by the collar and lifted him out of the chair he was sitting in.  The constable then dragged him into Nahrvil's office.  He shut the door behind him and pushed Ferlin into a chair.  "Ferlin?  I think you better start talking to me, Ferlin.  First, I wanna know what it was you were doing moving a body?"

Ferlin gulped.  "I- I can't say."

"No?"  Behrns pursed his lips.  "If my man finds out that the body didn't die from natural causes, you might be facing a noose here, so you might want to think about this."

Ferlin gulped.  Seyella protect him.  No one else was going to.

"Okay, what about your buddy?  Who is he?  What has he got to do with this?"

"I- I don't know his name."

Behrns slapped his hand down hard on the desktop.  "Don't tell me that, Ferlin!  I wanna know his name!  Now!"  He leaned over the obviously scared man.

Tears were forming in the bartender's eyes.  "I don't know it!  He just came to help move the body."

"Well, you better start remembering a whole lot more, or you'll be dancing from a rope in very short order!"



Vyddles and Nahrvil made their way around the building to where a barrel of salt was pushed up against the wall.  A body lay on the ground beside it.  The body was very pale, and its lips, and fingers were shrivelled, and its eyes were sunken and dried within their sockets.  "Human jerky," Vyddles replied, "Or he woulda been if left in there long enough."  A glance at Nahrvil proved the older man did not appreciate the exotic nature of the situation.

He knelt next to the body and looked it over.  The first and most obvious thing was the throat had been sliced open.  The skin was now drawn back from drying and revealed a two long jagged slashes.  It looked like one gash came from one direction while the other came from the other.  They criss crossed.  He would have bled out very quickly, as the dried blood all over his clothes suggested.  Something caught Vyddles eye, and he lifted the bodies chin a bit.  There was a long red line above where the gash was.  A lighter cut?  No, it didn't look like it was a blade mark.  It appeared more like a garrote.  Interesting.

He ran his hands over the body.  He found no other visible wounds.  Lifting the dead man's shirt, there was nothing on his chest.  Rolling him over, however, proved different.  "What's this?"  He examined a small bruise in the centre of the man's back.  Strange.  What would have caused that?

Vyddles rolled the body back over once more.  The man's lip was split, and it looked as though it had been scraped.  Carefully, the constable removed a long splinter from the man's cheek.  "Didn't die easy, did you?"  He spoke to the body.  This was definitely murder.



Pella walked over to the man dressed in white robes.  A white knight?  Behrns said he was, and she trusted him, even though she had never met one herself before.  "Excuse me, sir.  Can you tell me what your name is?  And what it was you saw earlier?"

« Last Edit: February 12, 2010, 08:39:55 AM by Drea » Logged

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Honour is within you, and cannot be taken away by others.  Neither highborn Knights with hollow souls, or gossiping harpies can break your spirit unless you let them.- Drea
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« Reply #12 on: February 12, 2010, 04:18:13 AM »

Date: 29th Singing Bird, 3rd Hour of Guardorans (11PM)

"You must be with the guard.""No Eyimon, it's a Rover. They're only wearing the uniform.". Eyimon removed his triest. He still hadn't had time to put his eye in, so the patch remained.

"Eyimon Sorossa of the Order of the White Knights, at your service." Eyimon was tempted to extend his hand, but this was an investigation of some sort, and things needed to be resolved.

"I heard the two men, the one you have in custody now, and another drop something. The barrel I would suspect. I came around the corner to see if someone needed help, and I saw them with a barrel with an arm hanging out of it."

That had been, interesting. It wasn't every day you saw a barrel leaking arms instead of wine or ale. "I didn't get a good look at the other one. He whispered something to his accomplice, Ferlin I suppose it was? and after he... fainted I suppose, this other one bolted over the roof. I'm no acrobat I'm afraid, or I would have given chase." Eyimon remembered some of the debacles the watch or the guard had gotten into. And then realized they'd be questioning Ferlin. "Oh  yes, that will be a treat I imagine. You are as much the law as they are Eyimon, I imagine doing something would be your strong suit here". "Would you mind if I spoke with your Captain?" Master Jaeodin was never a particularly kind instructor, but Eyasha blind him (again) if he wasn't usually right.
Logged

For ten years I have been polishing this sword;
Its frosty edge has never been put to the test.
Now I am holding it and showing it to you, sir:
Is there anyone suffering from injustice?
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« Reply #13 on: February 13, 2010, 04:03:35 PM »

Date: 29th Singing Bird, 3rd Hour of Guardorans (11PM)

Pella listened to the white knight and nodded.  "I can see if Behrns will speak to you.  I am sure that will be not a problem, once he is done with the suspect."  How did he lose the eye, she wondered?  "Would you recognize him if you saw him again, Sir Eyimon?"



"Boss?"

Behrns looked up from his interrogation to see Vyddles and Nahrvil enter the room.  "What did you learn?"

"I learned that if you ever eat here, not to put salt on your food, or bring your own."  Vyddles made a face and glanced at Nahrvil.  "You will get a new barrel of salt, right?  Because that can't be good to eat-"

"About the body, Vyddles!"  Behrns sighed.  Why did he keep the boy around?  Boy was how the older constable thought of the younger one.  Vyddles was always just one smart- assed remark from getting fired.

A sheepish grin crossed Vyddles face.  "Right, Boss, sorry.  Looks like it was a struggle.  His face was scratched up; pulled a wooden splinter from it.  He appears to have been strangled, by a wire or thin cord I would guess, then had his throat slit.  Twice.  Not that once wasn't enough, because they were deep.  He also had a bruise in the middle of his back about this big."  Vyddles made a circle with his thumb and forefinger about the size of the bruise.  "But no telling what might have made that."

Behrns focused his attention on the tavern owner.  "You say the victim was a patron?  Did he have a room here?"

"Already on it, Boss.  I had chuckles here show me the victims room.  There was definitely some blood there.  Someone cleaned it up, but you could see it in the cracks of the floorboards.  I would guess that's where the murder happened."  Vyddles knew that in order to be on Behrns team, you had to be good at your job.  He dared not do anything halfway around the old man.  "There was no money on the body, or any in the room.  Robbery maybe?"

Behrns let one of his rare grins appear for a mere blink.  That was why he kept the irreparable young man on his team.  "If he was a patron, then you should have his name."  That was directed at the tavern owner.

Nahrvil nervously approached the desk and grabbed a leather bound book off the top of it.  "It will be in here.  We keep all our patrons names in the ledger.  For when the tax collector comes, you know. Hehe."  He began to flip through the pages.

Behrns faced Ferlin again.  "Is that what happened, Ferlin?  You decided to rob him?  Maybe you were in his room, he surprised you?  You fought, things got out of hand and you were forced to kill him?"

"No!  No.  I didn't kill him."

"But whoever did stuck around long enough to clean up the room and hide the body in a barrel of salt?"

Ferlin shook his head.  "No.  Look, I cleaned up the blood and moved the body, but I didn't do no killin'"

"Then who did!"

Ferlin jumped.  "I can't say!  She said she'd kill me!"  He began to sob uncontrollably, placing his face in his hands.

"Who is she?"  When there was no answer, Behrns raised his voice to a near shout.  "Who, Ferlin?  Who!"

Nahrvil was so shaken by the constables strong intimidating voice, that he dropped the ledger onto the floor.  He picked it up and backed away from the lawman.

There was knock on the door and Pella poked her head in.  "Behrns, the witness would like to speak to you."

Ferlin was not going to be easy to get information from.  He was more frightened of someone else than he was about hanging.  Behrns looked at Pella and nodded.  "Bring him in."

Pella turned and waved the knight forward.
« Last Edit: February 13, 2010, 04:09:24 PM by Drea » Logged

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Honour is within you, and cannot be taken away by others.  Neither highborn Knights with hollow souls, or gossiping harpies can break your spirit unless you let them.- Drea
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« Reply #14 on: February 14, 2010, 01:19:17 AM »

Date: 29th Singing Bird, 3rd Hour of Guardorans (11PM)
Perhaps. I will find him. And the killer constable.  Though, your suspect is exactly what I am worried about."

As he entered the inn Eyimon saw Ferlin. The man looked to be a wreck. He wondered if that didn't have to do with being questioned by the rather imposing looking man standing nearby, probably responsible for the shouting earlier. "Are those hands or bricks?!"
Examining Ferlin closely, Eyimon heard Master Jaeodin There is one thing all people who kill have in common I think. Unhealthy lack of fear for consequences. This man doesn't have it. Look at him." The man had less spine than a slug. It was... pitiable. Looking at the captain Eyimon said

"My apologies, but I will need to ask the suspect some questions." Eyimon drew up a chair and sat down, without waiting for the response.

"Your name is Ferlin, correct?" This earned him a nod. Good. The fear for his life that this captain had placed in his heart had taken what little spine the man had and crushed it into a pulp."You know who I am? Another nod. That was good. "You did not kill the man Ferlin. But someone else did. Who was the man who was helping you with the barrel?" A shake of the head. Nethor's beard Eyimon did not like doing this.

"Ferlin, you have two choices here. You can go with the captain back to the cells, or you can come with me. Where you go depends purely on whether or not you answer my questions and the captain's."
Eyimon took off the eyepatch.

Now, I need you to answer one of these. Truthfully mind you, otherwise you go with the captain and I will have no ill feelings for you neighbour. Who was the man who helped you move the body? Who killed the man in that barrel? I don't think either you or your friend the acrobat did. What is it to be Ferlin, me or the captain?
« Last Edit: February 14, 2010, 02:09:56 AM by Eyimon Sorossa » Logged

For ten years I have been polishing this sword;
Its frosty edge has never been put to the test.
Now I am holding it and showing it to you, sir:
Is there anyone suffering from injustice?
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