Thirsty Herald XV: Day 3 Firstflame

[Thorgas Ironforge]

"Aye, a boat trip. I hate them. Can't swim and maybe I'll drown if I attempted to." Thorgas laid down his pipe and watched as Twen tries to comfort the little girl. He watched too, as the barmaid expertly worked her tongue in order for her to earn the trust of the little girl.

Turning again to the elf, who now has a pipe-smoke scent about him, he cocked his head to the direction of the girl and asked, "Hmm... Why don't ya go ask her where she came from? Or better yet, wait fer the barmaid ta do it. Your loud noise earlier sent chills running down the spine of the wee lass."

The dwarf guffawed loudly at his remark and slapped the elf at the back with a friendly gesture. He took his pipe and placed it in his pocket, then pulled out a piece of cloth and began wiping his staff free of dust.
Thorgas hummed a little tune as he worked, and stared at the elf with twinkling green eyes. "Ya have anything edible with ya? That little girl is sure ta be hungry. Give her something ta eat and a place to sleep. Horse food and hay won't make her life comfortable."

[Neiavrine]

Ne'iav'rine woke once again. She felt the trembling quivers of anticpation from her listless dreams of slaughter and malevolence, and she was still hungry. "I hope that elf has some meat to his bones." If he wasn't enough, she could always take a bite out of that mage next door. She remembered that one legged innkeep and his suggestions on keeping things outside, and realized that it would be difficult to get that wench onto the sands. The quickest solution would be to simply throw her out the window, which was fitting ironic considering the circumstance. As the Warchief mulled over her hunger, she donned her armor and sheathed her axe and bow. Lastly, she wrenches her sword from the floorboards and takes a look outside.

The sun was falling nicely, and there would be no chance that she would be blinded by its rays. "Good, that feffing elf won't know what hit him." She leaves her helm at her bedside, preferring mobility and range of vision to its bulk. She scans the sands with a general's eye, and quickly realized that something was not right. In a fit of fury she pulled up her window, and the reek of alcohol met her nostrils. There in the sands she could see a ring of seven wooden posts, all probably doused in alcohol. So he isn't as stupid as he looks. She was enraged by his trickery, though not at all surprised. She had battled the Coor'hem for many years, and knew well of their deceit. With a growl she slams her blade into its sheath and ponders on her next move.

After a moment of envisioning roasting the elf alive, she began to act. In a few minutes she had gathered the supplies she would need to offset the assassin's plan. She wrapped one of her own arrows in a bit of cloth recovered from her bedsheets and doused it in some Mil'no Fire she had kept in her flask from the night before. She lit the arrow with her flint and the edge of her Sabre, then took aim out the window at the central pillar. The arrow took flight with a predator's urgency and shattered upon contact with the wooden post, which was in the next moment was consumed in flame. For a long while she is blinded by the pillar of flame, but her eyes slowly adjust as she prepares the next arrow. In a matter of seconds nearly all the pillars have been caught aflame, and a stray shot had revealed a ring of flame which must have been intended for her. By now the flames were too bright and too many for her to ignore, and she could no longer see the rest of her targets. Figureing that what she had done would be good enough, she smiles and pats her weapon comfortingly.

Turning away, she resheated her bow and stalked out of her room. Taking a moment to lock her door, she noticed the fact that one of the rooms had been broken into, and the general chaos of the area seemed to denote her first impression of the place. Once again she realized that the place seriously needed a guard to keep things in line. She takes a look into the demolished room and notes the smell of blood and lust. Her stomach rumbles in discontent and she leaves the wrecked room to its own devices, once again entering the hall and heading for the stairs. A strange noise gives her pause, just before she takes her leave. The soft cries barely reached her ears, yet were strong and forcefull in their own right. It was a voice she knew well, it was the elven mage. The noises are strange to her, she had never heard such yearning nor such joy, the noises offend her. With a snarl she smashes a fist into the wall beside her and stalks down the stairs. As she reaches the last step she snarls at the small groupings of patrons arranged throughout the common area. "Where is that elf?" Her guttural question was directed at anyone who would answer, and carried a not so subtle threat for those who would prefer to keep silent as to his location. Her rage billowed from her heart and wreathed her flesh in the putrid aura of murder. Her Karikrimson eyes burn with hate and her fangs glisten with violence as she glares from one patron to the next. The word to describe her appearance is simple as it is powerful. She was terrible.

[so orril miesefer]

"well... I ha..." that was all Orril could say before a flame pillar shot to the sky, Orril looked at it trough a window. "What the..." Orril couldn't finish this sentence because another flaming pillar rose, Orril looked at the dwarf and said "you did that?" Before the dwarf could even answer other five pillars had risen.

"We can't let that burn like that, it can take the tavern!!" Orril rose from his chair and was about to step upwards when an orc came down them, he remembered his encounters with orcs in Ximax but this one seemed much more enraged that those that he had tricked so many times.

"Where is that elf?" Asked her, Orril knew he wasn't that elf and surely he wouldn't like to be that elf. Yet the fire made him rush and said "Excuse me, need to go upstairs." Said this Orril tried to pass the orc.

[Callie Sornak]

Callie went into even more of a panic from all the men crowding around her. She began to cry even more and curled up into a tighter ball. She heard someone else approach her and lay a gentle hand on her cheek.

Large brown eyes filled with tears looked up at the female Elf that was before her. She had a beautiful face and Callie felt drawn to the grey eyes that lay upon that face. Her quivering stopped slightly as the beautiful voice came from the beautiful face. “M’Lady, do yee have a name?”

Her soft hand removed itself from Callie's cheek to the floor. Callie gave a small nod. She uttered the name in a cracked voice, cracked from lack of moisture in her throat. "Callie...." Before she could say anything more, she started to cough, blood coming from her mouth in a small trickle, a sign of the dryness of her mouth and perhaps a darker evil that held hold of her.

[Niccoli Faust]

Niccoli hated, loathed absolutely and utterly hated overland travel of any ammount. Most of all he hated the sand. It was like some kind of massive dry ocean. Nothing that big should be that hot and dry... As the small group had come over the last dune into the vicinity around the old tavern, Niccoli had almost fainted, at last there would be something more than sand everywhere. Niccoli ran into the inn and hoped they had some good cold ale.

[Thorgas Ironforge]

"Did what?" Thorgas replied to Orill, with a slight tone of sarcasm in his voice. The elf might not have heard it, though, as he frantically ran upstairs. "That's really rude of ya, elf." Thorgas said. He felt that he should say it loudly, but he thought it better than to go around fighting everyone he sees. He doesn't want to be like that fool of an assassin sleeping outside like a drunken sot.

The dwarf thought it was time to see if his "fatherly aura" would work on the little girl; after all, it worked on his pig. He approached the ladies slowly and squatted in front of the girl. "Well now, lassie, that's a mighty bad hack ya got there. How aboot some warm soup ta help ya calm down a bit, eh?" He managed to show a warm smile through that jungle of brown hair.

Thorgas tried to speak as soft as he could, but it was no use. The booming sound coming from that barrel-like chest is enough to shake birds off a tree. Nevertheless, he stared at those little tear covered eyes with his kindly, green ones, hoping that he won't scare the wee girl to running around again.

[Miraran Tehuriden]

Miraran had been quetly writing in his journal, when some commotion nearby finally drew his attention. A small girl was crying in a corner, and several people were trying to help her, all of wich only seemed to make matters worse. He was about to resume his work when a call from one of them made him look again. Outside, seven flaming pillars came into view in quick succession. As the Elf that raised the initial alarm tried to pass up the stairs, if not for bumping in on a rather fierce looking Orc, Miraran hurried towards the tavern door to check if the mysterious fires were posing a threat to the Tavern.

[Niccoli Faust]

As Niccoli walked towards the Tavern, pillars of flame flared up near the building itself. The burning towers of flame reached up towards the sky. "That can't be normal, definetly not normal, even for a place the odd."

Niccoli ran towards the tavern building fast as he could with his coracle strapped on his back.

[Navar The Rogue Assassin]

Navar was quickly snapped out of his everlasting nightmare by the smell of flame shooting up he shouts "Bloodspit, that ork caught whiff of my little plan" and thinking sinisterly at least she hasn't whiffe out every thing

Navar rose and grabbed his two torches igniting one he places the other one in the ground next to him. Reaching into his sack he pulls out some hash and begins to smoke it. That ork dies today, ah hash makes every thing better Navar feels all forms of pain numb as he makes his way towards the tavern. Pushing the door open Navar shouts "Demon of Nybelmar, are you ready to die, your end is nye. Show yourself unless yuo are no more than a coward who is afraid of a poor little Coor'hem"

Navar quickly drops his hood and turns to leave and with one more shout laughs "You thaught you could disarm my trap, but those flames will burn for days, hm funny, those flame will live longer than you" And with that Navar quickly leaves the tavern and sit to await a fight, one that runs deeper than pride, but of an ancient grudge.

[Neiavrine]

"There you are." Her face contorts into a mask of twisted fury, and her voice carries such rage that those around her might nearly taste her fervor. The elf has a suprising abundance of confidence for a dead man. Her crimson eyes fall onto the fair elf as he trys to make his way past her. She grasps for his cloak, her clawed hands striking like a serpent, and pulls him close, so that he might smell the rank of death on her lips. "It is in your best intrest to make sure that those flames go out. We wouldn't want this tavern catching aflame, now would we?" She drops the mage just after giving him a terrible glare, warning him that he was next if he did not succeed in his appointed task.

With a battle cry which shook the windows with its ferocity, she drew her blade and axe and charged out to meet her foe in battle. She brings herself into a deft slide and swings herself infront of the Coor'hem, using the momentum to accellerate a horizontal slash at his belly with her saber. Using her long arms to her advantage, She follows the attack with a devistating strike with her axe, bringing it down towards the earth with such force that the sky seems to scream in agony. The flames glowered before her, leaving her as naught but a shadow to the eyes of those who might watch the final battle of Navar the Assassin. In the fire's grim illumination she truely was a demon, and in a fury of violence she began her assualt, pushing foward with a flurry of blades which played through the night with greater and greater urgency, each blow harder than the last, each fueled with greater malice. She hounds him as a creatuer of Co'or, comming to bring him to her little patch of darkness. Here, in the battle she is queen, and she gives him not a moments reprieve. Soon she is a symphony of chaos and blood, as saber and axe sing through the air in a grim march for her victim.

[so orril miesefer]

"It is in your best intrest to make sure that those flames go out. We wouldn't want this tavern catching aflame, now would we?" Orril gulped a bit of saliva, whatever this thing was, surely Orril didn't wanted to have it behind.

"Sure" he nodded while running upstairs... Yet something wasn't all right, for being in the gasp of that thing Orril had a mischievous smile in his face... Now... I have both in my hands... What happens when wind and fire mix with a lot of sand? They won't live to tell the tale surely...

Orril walked over his room, the pillars where close the tavern, so the better would be making a firewall to push both to the desert, then a good wind would finish both of them... He sat, waiting for the "thing" to walk out the tavern, he looked out of his window just to be sure the "other elf" was there. Then hided under the window, rubbing quartz powder in his hands.

[Niccoli Faust]

Niccoli doubled his pace as he charged down towards the tavern. A terrible roaring shrieking sound ripped through the air. "That does not look healthy at all. I'd rather preserve my own life at the momment.". Niccoli kept his distance from the main entrance of the Herald and the fires and searched for another way in.

[Navar The Rogue Assassin]

Navar watched as the foul stinch of orc mindlessly charged towards him with blade and axe drawn. "Fool you plan on winnig....and you can't even keep your mind calm, weak fool"

Navar swiftly jumps backwards in an attempt to escape the fatal blow, and with a breath of luck was able to back out of the attack unharmed. Navar using the opprotunity swiftly bounded towards the wooden alters that he had already errected. Wheeling about he quickly twirls out one of his prepared arrows, that he had earlier that moring wrapped in clothe and soaked in rum, and igintes it with the torch in his hand, laying the torch down he smile

"To hell with you oh demon of Nybelmar" releasnig the well aimed flaming arrow he quickly mad a dash for behind the flamming structure there he uncovered his most powerful weapon. Come and get me now orc, come and get me now

[Twén Aråerwén]

As the young lass spoke her name and raised brown eyes to meet Twen’s unwavering gaze, a beaming smile spread over the mage’s supple lips. “Tis a pleasure to meet ye Callie.” One frail hand rising from the floor and held out nonchalantly in a suggestion of friendship. “My name is Twen, where are ye from ma’am?” Metallic gray eyes narrowed in a façade of delight, then waited good-naturedly for Callie’s reply.

The callous resonance of the she-orc upon the steps caused the mage to situate herself between Callie and the commotion that descended into the main room. Peering over petite shoulder as Ne'aiv'rine soared upon the room in a fit of wrath and ferocity. A smug gleam shimmered in the depths of the mage’s opaque eyes, when the Coor’hem issued his challenge to the demoness. Aye a gift fit for the ignorant, death, to be exchanged amongst them. Though Twen could feel the fiery yearning to lend them both a hand in their pursuit. She abhorred equally the Coor’hem and the bloodlust of the Chyrakisth, yet the maiden carried sufficient acumen to recognize they would simply carry out her own wishes on each other.

The gruff speech of Thorgas brought Twen reverse from revelry and again her sublime features focused on Callie. A fragile hand still held out to the young girl in a proposition of friendship. Almond shaped eyes perked in a quizzical manner towards the robust dwarf when he made further inquiries of the frightened maid. Still she acknowledged the astuteness of the stumpies chitchat, fluidly recurring a primeval gaze in the direction of the fearful young child. Lissome yet friendly lips parted in a glee-filled grin, pearly whites hinting at the joyous nature of the person so often shrouded in darkness within the elf. 

[Niccoli Faust]

OOC: Hope i'm not out of line here assuming there is a window in the kitchen or something.

Niccoli snuck around the back side of the buidling, slowly creeping along the wall. As he neared a window, the smell of food slowly drifted towards him. Niccoli slunk over to the window, and stuffed his coracle through. He crept in the window after it.

As the feral elf-like creature, for that is what it was that had made the fearsome sound, exited the tavern, Niccoli glanced about to find himself in the kitchen of the herald. He had barely managed to catch a glimpse of it, but its eyes were red. Niccoli would not want to tangle with that thing... not at all.

"Not exactly the most fortuitous place to be at the momment, all things considered, but better than out there, with the fire, and that thing..." Niccoli shuddered momentarily. Niccoli put the coracle on his back and crept out towards the main area where the patrons were.

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