Chapter 1: It Always Starts in a Tavern....

[Ciosina]

Ciosina shakes her head to the bargnome’s query.  She had only come into the tavern to try to recapture the warm, happy feelings that the sign had reminded her of, and she is too scared still to feel any hunger.

Cio jumps as one of the patrons greets her.  The slur in the red-headed woman’s voice renders her words almost unintelligible, and her breath brings with it the stench of stale alcohol – the reek of all that is uncouth and to be feared, at least to Ciosina’s refined sensibilities.  Her posture immediately becomes even more upright and she assumes a haughty expression as she turns away, ignoring the woman.  Outwardly the gesture looks cold and rude, but inside Ciosina, her stomach is twisting itself into strange knots in fear of this crude, scary person.  Her mind is, at least for the moment, fully fixed on the presence now to her back, in anxious anticipation of a hostile move from the drunken woman.

Ciosina’s new position points her in the direction of the guard’s table.  She cannot help noticing the black-clad widow as she dances exuberantly over to the guard, then seats herself there with him.  Cio sees this strange behaviour, and is confused for a moment before she suddenly understands.  The poor woman, she thinks.  She must have suffered terribly with the loss of her husband to be so very mad now. Thinking back to happier days in Varcopas, Ciosina remembers another woman.  She had been older, with greying hair, but she had also had these strange changes of mood.  She had come to stay with the School, having graduated from there years before and with nowhere to go after her husband, children, and first grandchild had perished in a fire.  Tortured by grief, and some said, guilt, the Lady had descended into madness.  Ciosina had been found to have a calming influence on the woman, and so had spent many afternoons with her.  

Looking with grave sympathy at the red-haired widow, Ciosina wondered where the servants or companions who should be looking after this Lady were.  

[Lythania So Mephgour]

Captain of the Guard, The Heavyhand

Erick Heavyhand, known as 'The Heavyhand' by criminals and fellow guards alike watched as each person entered the tavern, scrutinizing each. He had told of his troubles to his good friend Likep, and knew that the gnome would send anyone who could be of use to him. The Heavyhand saw a few sword wielders enter the tavern, and quickly passed a knowing glance to the gnome, who returned the look, knowing who to send over. Then a tall pale woman dressed in black danced towards the table, before sitting down and addressing the captain. Da, it wasn’t your fault. None other than Nehtor himself or one dedicated to serving him could have healed me. Please, forgive yourself and move on with your life. You will always have the memories of your sweet Emmy to cherish. The Red haired womans face a voice then changed, as she said to the stunned Captain I know not how I came to be here at this table with you, yet I remember the spirit of a young girl, seeking the help of one such as myself. Did she speak to you?

The Guard stared dumbfounded at this woman. Emmy had been dead for Years! How had this woman even known of her, much less known how to mimic both the child's voice and manner of speech? But what if his daughter WAS somehow speaking through this woman. Emmy often danced the way this woman had...

Softly, in a voice which was made to hide sorrow, The Heavyhand asked the woman. How is it that you come to know of my daughter, much less speak as her?

Nobody is beyond redemption.

- Lythánia

[Synder Nytefall]

Synder nodded casually as Likep instructed her to chat with the guard, yet she was still cautious of approaching the peculiar woman sitting with him. Especially after the barkeep continued to instruct others to do the same, she knew that whatever the mischievous gnome was up to would be no good. But then again the value of a warm meal and a place to possibly rest her head would be worth whatever a simple guard could request of her, or so the piratess thought.

Turning burgundy eyes upon Ciosina she reached out with the mug of ale and tapped the woman on the elbow. “Wou’ ye b’ joinin me o’re yonder?” As she then gestured towards the table that the guard and priestess were seated at, a cheerful smile spreading over supple lips before she continued on. “I b’ think’n yer starin’ at him ma’am, ye be likin wha ye b’ see’n?” An impish giggle escaping her ginger lips as she hopped nimbly from her barstool. “Dun b’ to shy ma’am he b’ seemin ta hav’ a wee bit a compny alreay.” Lifting her hat from the bar she fixed it about the belt upon her petite hip and stooped to reclaim her rucksack from the floor. Peering over her shoulder once more the elfess’s eyes swirled with mischief as she addressed the lady again. “I b’ puttin in a gud wurd fer ye befor ya join us.”

Sauntering across the bar towards where the guard was seated, a rucksack in one tiny hand and a flagon in the other. Her locks shimmered like silken fire in the twinkling rays of Injera that shined through the far windows of the tavern. Her pace was seductive yet agile like an Auroran stalking prey in the shadows of dark sylvan places. As she came to stand near the fireplace, not more than a few peds from the guardsman and his frightening companion. Casting an affectionate grin to him she then gave him a modest nod, she knew there was slight need to address the man. For the gnome was crowding people to him and when he was prepared he would speak to them all.

Placing her rucksack upon the mantle of the fireplace, Synder then stood on tippy toes as she pulled a half-full jug from the depths of it. She bit the cork with her canines removing it from the bottle as she then let it drop to her gloved hand. Eyes closing as she smelled the fragrance radiating from the crimson fluid, a look of ecstasy swarming over her delicate features as she did so. The elfess then poured a solitary shot of the fluid into the half flagon of ale, before returning the stopper to the container and placing it back in her rucksack.

Laying upon the hearth, lithe legs stretched out along its length, as she rested with one elbow on the stony surface. Sipping ever so slowly from the flagon as a lustrous glaze began to expand over her flaming eyes. I wonder what a guardsman would want with so many people, for he seems to already have a harlot to tend his needs. Synder then waited for the man to speak or for her food to arrive.

(¯`•."If there's a man among ye, ye'll come out and fight like the men ye are.".•´¯)-Synder's CD

Edited by: Synder Nytefall  at: 3/2/06 7:00

[Elysia]

"How is it that you come to know of my daughter, much less speak as her?"

A slight smile crosses her face upon hearing his question. Elysia does not take comfort in his grief, instead taking on the familiar role of a priestess of Queprur. Mortals always sought answers for that which they could not understand, and death was no exception. To mourn was to be human, and such mourners looked to her kind for answers about their loved ones that have passed from this world. Trained to answer such questions, among other duties associated with the worship of the Goddess, Elysia answers in soft soothing tones, a most uncommon tone of voice for the half elf.

"I serve Queprur as a priestess and am trained to communicate with the deceased. Just now I was visited by the spirit of a young girl, your daughter, and allowed her to possess me so that she may speak to you, wishing nothing more than to dispel your doubts about the circumstances of her death. I did not and cannot speak as your daughter. It truly was Emmy that spoke to you. Her words are a boon to you, one that should dispel your foolish doubts. The guilt you feel for her death will consume you if you do not accept her words and cease to mourn the child that passed years ago. Enough tears have flowed from your eyes, cease this eternal self pity and remember the joys of life. Or you are truly lost to this world."

She leans back in her chair, awaiting his answer. The reactions to the knowledge that their deceased relatives had spoken to them through the lips of another varied, and Elysia knows not how this guard will react. Worst of all were those that reacted violently, denying the truth as they attempt to harm those responsible for speaking to them as their loved ones once had. Fear that this man will attempt to strike her and accuse her of blasphemy clearly shows in her eyes, yet the priestess will not cease to serve her mistress for fear of a mortal. Uniting with Queprur upon her death would be a joyous occasion for the cleric, unless she fails her mistress in this life and could thus expect agony beyond the comprehension of any mortal.

Elysia the Blessed

[Monty Leadfist]

Monty's eyes remain hard on Kain's profile, watching the quiet figure lost in his own thoughts. Monty didn't like the elf's nose. You could trust a man with a big nose, not some wee sliver of snauz.

Snorting down some whiskers from under his own bulbous protrusion, Monty heaves up his mug and lifts the bottom up, only to find it, to his dissapointment and frustration, empty but for a film of froth about the bottom that refuses to budge. The little face that is visible past his big, dominating beard and bushy, oppresive eyebrows fumes and flushes, Monty's beard quivering.

"When'na ahsk fehr an'nale, I'nnaspect an'nale!" he grumbles, staring down the little gnome. "Eh ye wee cur! I'nnaspakintahyah!" The thirsty dwarf waves his empty mug about violently, his stubby and heavily booted legs waving frantically off the rim of his stool.

[Lythania So Mephgour]

Likep

Likep was just about to enter the kitchen, when the dwarf seemed to be convulsing about something, waving his mug in the air and having an all around temper tantrum, not unlike a small child. Likep Quickly hopped back up to his stool, listening closely to the gibberish emanating from this bearded creature. Again, he managed to scrap together the word Ale, and just to be safe, filled an entire pitcher with the stuff, sliding it to the Philologist, before hopping off his stool again to pass the order of the young woman to the kitchen.

The Heavyhand

Erick listened to the womans small speech, describing her powers, realizing that this woman was quite a find for him. He knew something of the religion of Querpur, and knew that she would definitely help him. Turning to the red headed sailor, he gestures to her to come sit, as he tells the cleric

I am need of the services of a woman with your capabilities. I can offer vast sums of money, although I think your god would enjoy having you do this despite monetary goods. I will tell you further details once i have gathered a few more people.

Nobody is beyond redemption.

- Lythánia

Edited by: Lythania So Mephgour at: 3/11/06 20:15

[Kain Cristar]

The way she walks carries my mortal frame to imortal heavens, and yet the sullen grace of my own capacity for sin weighs down the very moral fiber which seeks such divine forgiveness. So does Kain note that the elfess of his eye has begun to walk toward the guard of Milkengrad. His furious attentions are drawn to the glimmer of her hair. Satin set aflame with passion, or rubies of silk, so do her locks appear to his eyes. He watches her predatory stalk, and revels in its dark beauty. The hunt, the sensuality of the long, low strides, he drinks of its poetry, and represses the dark lusts of the ancient evil weighing his burdens through to all manner of sin and depravity. As she begins to drink of what seems to be ale, her eyes glow with a vivid fire, more alive and luscious than most men ever dare to be. This too, is glorified and protected by the silent mage, who watches on in his own, sinister way.

As so, as he contemplates the beautiful elf, does he hear the words of the guard, who has begun to speak. For the first time Kain notes that there is annother red headed woman in the room. Something dim, almost like a memory, flashes behind his eyes. The mage remembers some small strain of strangeness that he had felt from the woman as she had entered, though he does not immediatly know the source. I am need of the services of a woman with your capabilities. Kain takes a moment to rewind, and try to remeber something that would aid him in discovering just what those abilities might be. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered what a guard would want with some preistess, and what abilities he might require. Humans where a base sort of creature, and he did not think it below the man to bid for sexual favors. That would explain the incusion of the other elfess, but what about him. Kain threw the thought away, and pondered on stranger, more adventerous purposes that the man might have in mind. Humans seek glory above even love. I can offer vast sums of money, although I think your god would enjoy having you do this despite monetary goods. I will tell you further details once i have gathered a few more people. While Kain is not inticed by the inclusion of monetary gain, he does intend to protect the beauty, and finds the mystery to be of enough intrest that he might rise to his feet. He does so with the quiet brilliance of a morning breeze over the frost covered stalks of the windswept plains. Carefully avoiding direct sunlight, he walks his long, gracefull walk, so that he might stand beside the other elf, and mutters below the hearing range of a human. What finds thou, of 'ere gnome and his larger companion. I taste the bittersweet agony of adventure in the wind. Men seek glory and fame over even the golden threads of love.

You have lived a life of cruelty and atrocity, you have bathed in the blood of the innocent, you have considered every act of depravity and your corruption knows no bounds. I am the angel of justice, I am the accumulation of all of your sins. Prepare for your redemption.

-Kain Cristar, Divine Aspect

[Synder Nytefall]

Ginger lips parting in a beaming smile as the guardsman motioned her to join him and the strange woman at their table. The elfess rose nimbly to her feet before turning lightly to retrieve the rucksack from its place upon the mantle. She grasped the rucksack in one tiny hand, laying the strap over her right shoulder, allowing its weight to bring it to rest against her lithe thigh before spinning about and coming face to chest with Kain. A light gasp of astonishment rolling over supple lips as the mage had caught her completely off guard with his quick approach. Her left hand slipped to rest at the arch of her lower back, only a few nailsbreadths from the hilt of a hidden dagger. As her gaze then rose to meet the mages, a spriteful glimmer showing in the depths of her eyes as she smiled affectionately to him as he began to speak calmly.

Sipping a bit from the flagon of ale and Milno Fire as the mage finished his statement about adventure and the possible intent of the guardsman. Seeing that his approach was of little or no danger, her tiny hand rose to tilt the brim of her hat, “I b’ thinkin tha the man b’ needn’ sum help, b’ it mine, yers or of the harlot he b’ sittin wit is still ta b’ seen.” Nodding towards the table she was just invited to her eyes shimmering with mischief as made her way agilely about the magus and sauntered towards the table. She paused for a moment to look intently at the towering man, her sweltering locks reminiscent of a intense fire in the twinkling rays of Injera poking through the windows of the tavern. “Wou yee be liken ta join me in findin’ the mates interests in us?” As she then twisted to stroll over to the table.

Seating bum first upon the oaken surface of the table, her booted feet resting upon the nearest chair as she smiled to the Priestess and the Guard. “Yer g’nome ally has be’n sayin yee ar’ lookin for sum help, if this b’ fact I thin’ I coul’ b’ helpin’ yee.” Holding out a gloved hand to the man as she raised the brim of her hat with the other hand, a warm smile coming quickly to her delicate features as she began to speak melodically to him. “Tha name be Synder what b’ yers an yer harl …. Lady friends?”

(¯`•."If there's a man among ye, ye'll come out and fight like the men ye are.".•´¯)-Synder's CD

[Monty Leadfist]

Monty nods curtly and scoops up the pitcher, sloshing his mug full with the pitcher, topping it off with a heavy head. "That's be'n better, laddy, so'n keep that'llot n'mind, y'ear?" the dwarf mumbles into his mug, downing the drink quickly, the liquor dribbling down either side of his short clipped beard but remaining stationary in a trail of frothy bubbles over the coarse black fibers.

Tired of watching the sun reflect off the various sized and shaped bottles that lined the opposite side of his veiw, Monty swivels on his seat and lets his eyes fall on the small cluster of population by the hearth. He isn't particularily enthralled by their apparent conversation, but one word does snag the burr that was his interest.

"Adventure!" he exclaims, though rather quietly to himself and in a manner that would simply be mistaken as a drunkard's slurred attempt at conversation with himself.  Monty takes up the pitcher and fills his mug once more, bounding off the stool and stalking up to the group with the heavy clank clank of stubbornly shifting and squeaking armor. "Now'n don't be gettin'meh startin'non'ventures!" he says again, looking the guard square in the eye, "Cause I'll beh safesayin I'nmieghty year'no'two older then'all, an I've behn off on minny anventure nure two, meself, see." A crazy grin suddenly errupts over the well-worn dwarf's features as he gazes patron to patron, looking last from lady to lady. "Now beh'about scusing meself, there lassies, butI'nna bein' Montgomery Leadfist, see see," he said, softer now and lifting his helmet off. There was a subtle wave reminscent of wet pig as the heavy dreadlocks rearranged themselves in the fresh air and the dwarf hooked the helm under his arm, still grinning as the shir tail dragged it's tip along the floor in accordance with his ill-practiced bow.

[Ciosina]

Ciosina jumps as the cold mug touches her elbow and spins back to face the woman, eyes wide with suppressed fear.  She listens, dumbstuck to the woman’s uncouth speech and says nothing as she walks away to the table.  It is only as the woman leaves that Cio realises that the she had red eyes.

Distracted by the Dwarf’s alarming mutterings, Ciosina doesn’t catch Elysia’s explanation of her powers.  Turning her attention back to the table she only hears her being offered money to do something.  Her aristocratic upbringing - predjudices intact -  jumps to the fore and Cio immediately hops off her stool, fuming in indignation for Elysia who, she thinks, has just been offered an indecent proposition by the guard.  Where are her servants? She fumes as she walks with dainty but quick steps toward the table, shoulders held back with the unconcious authority of the noble-born.  Don’t they know what could happen to this poor woman if she is not cared for?

“You needn’t offer her anything, Sir,” Ciosina says haughtily, practically sneering the title.  “She is well taken care of and needs nothing from the likes of you!”  She turns her back to the guard, kneeling next to the chair in which Elysia sits, and speaks softly to her, so that the guard would catch little if any of her speech. “My name is Ciosina.  If this… man… is bothering you, we should leave.  You and I are not like these people; if you wish, we could travel together and watch out for one another.”  Shadows of her recent grief flicker behind Cio’s eyes, along with a desperation to find a way to regain what she has lost.  Also there, however, is a deep strength and willingness to face whatever is ahead – the hard-won rewards of having been through the end of all she knew, and yet lived.

[Elysia]

Expressive, emotionless eyes remain fixated on the guard, icy stare unwavering as he speaks. The approach of others in the tavern is noted, yet Elysia pays no heed to their presence. Mortals often seek to understand that which is beyond their comprehension, such as the abilities bestowed upon the priestess by her Goddess. Only those truly dedicated to Queprur could begin to understand the motives of the Goddess, and even then mere mortals cannot hope to perceive every facet of Queprur’s intentions.

However the arrival of the girl as she kneels by her chair distracts Elysia from answering the guard for a moment. As the girl speaks, the corners of her lips curl into a cruel smile, broadening with each foolish word spoken by the youth. A hollow laugh emanates from rosy lips at the notion that she and this girl were anything alike. Her slight frame trembles with laughter, her laughter seemingly devoid of any emotion save scorn, before it finally ceases after what seemed an eternity as Elysia somberly stares at Ciosina, her lips still curled in her typical smile.

“And what perchance do you believe us to have in common?” She pauses as her eyes take in the girl’s azure riding gown, the smile creeping across more of her cheeks as the priestess recognizes to which class this girl belongs. “Ah, nobility, among the worst of all mortals. Think you to purchase more years upon this world? I care naught for your wealth, nor does my mistress. I have no need of a traveling companion, and I welcome the embrace of Queprur should I perish upon my travels.”

Turning her gaze once more to the guard, her azure eyes flash in anger as she realizes the nature of his words. Any trace of a smile fades from her lips as they are pressed together. One pale, delicate hand rests on the hilt of her dagger, the knuckles whitening as she grasps it, holding this symbol of her faith as she replies.

“You are of need of my services? Am I then a harlot to be hired and then discarded when my services are rendered? I have no need of your precious money nor will I serve a mere mortal.” She pauses as she considers the second statement of his speech, her anger increasing as she leans forward, the color draining  from her already pale face as she balefully glares at him, her words hissing forth from her lips. “My god? You dare to curse Queprur with the flaws associated with being male? And you have the arrogance to assume you know anything of her motives? Foolish mortal, you cannot begin to comprehend the scope of her intentions with this world. I will listen to your plight and then judge whether my assistance would serve Queprur. Do not mistake my assistance, if it is given, as a submission to your desires for only my mistress may command me.”

Elysia the Blessed

[Lythania So Mephgour]

The Heavyhand

“You are of need of my services? Am I then a harlot to be hired and then discarded when my services are rendered? I have no need of your precious money nor will I serve a mere mortal. My god? You dare to curse Queprur with the flaws associated with being male? And you have the arrogance to assume you know anything of her motives? Foolish mortal, you cannot begin to comprehend the scope of her intentions with this world. I will listen to your plight and then judge whether my assistance would serve Queprur. Do not mistake my assistance, if it is given, as a submission to your desires for only my mistress may command me.”

The Heavyhand assumed an amused look. He had met many such people, they seemed to usually be female. Magicians seemed to love to consider all those who do not practice magic beneath the dung of the northern Thunderfeet. Erick laughed slightly as he addressed her

My, My. Aren't we the arrogant one. Do not assume that i am ignorant in the faith of the Iron Mistress. Both of my parents were part of her priesthood. Regardless, the services I Requi-

It was at this moment that the Dwarf interrupted Erick in a slur of speech, saying something about adventure. The Heavyhand assumed that the philogist was agreeing to go on this little outing. Erick was about to address the dwarf when the sailor woman spoke.

Yer g’nome ally has be’n sayin yee ar’ lookin for sum help, if this b’ fact I thin’ I coul’ b’ helpin’ yee. Tha name be Synder what b’ yers an yer harl …. Lady friends?

The heavyhand, feeling that his group was large enough, decided to tell them of their purpose in coming to the captain of the guard.

You have all come to me to learn of the aid that i require. The task i am going to ask  you to take part of is a dangerous one. There have been a slew of murders in my city, and a number of witnesses have told me that a pale man in black was the man who commited these atrocities. This murderer has no discriminations, he will murder man, woman, child, elf, human or dwarf....all have fallen to him. he has killed a number of my guard, and i dare not send any more against him, for my men are valuable. I care little for you strangers and thus, you are expendable. I will pay each of you mass sums of money for this task, and some of you may appreciate the fact that you take a mass murderer from this world. Any questions?

Nobody is beyond redemption.

- Lythánia

[Synder Nytefall]

The piratess tilted her head nonchalantly to shroud her face beneath the edge of her hat as Ciosina and Elysia spoke. A hint of sadness spread evenly over her delicate features as she once again realized that she was surrounded by those of society and esteem. Her customary charade did not pass, as a spriteful smile glimmered from the shade that now veiled her face. The only indication of her uneasiness was a trivial turning of her petite shoulder to the gathering, as if to screen herself somewhat from the others.

Burgundy eyes studied the dwarf as he spoke of adventures, the elfess was relatively sure the stubby dwarf was telling at least semi-truth through the shroud of drunkenness. Her elven ears perked up a bit, hoping that the man would continue on into a fine tale or at least a recounting of some fanciful yarn of his people. Yet the guardsman cut them all short from the general state of chaos that had ensued after they had gathered about the table. One hand rose to brush a few fiery locks to rest once more behind her ears as she raised burgundy eyes to rest upon the guard. A palatable look of glee upon her subtle face could be seen effortlessly from the shadows of her hat as the elfess listened keenly.

The guardsman finished his tiny tale of murder and intrigue, Synder’s hand lifted to tilt the brim of her hat at the man. A beaming grin upon her ginger colored lips, she then looked about at the others, waiting for any of them to respond to what the man had asked. Only silence had been forthcoming so the elfess spoke up, “Wha b’ thee offerin for this har task g’sir?” Both gloved hands falling to rest upon the edge of the oaken table between her lithe legs. “An why b’ it tha yee ar thinkin we wou’ be bounty hunters?” Her eyes studying the man intently, hoping to catch some hint of his intentions or motivations, for noone hires a band of mercenaries to simply catch a common fugitive. This would have to be personal I would be thinking.

(¯`•."If there's a man among ye, ye'll come out and fight like the men ye are.".•´¯)-Synder's CD

Edited by: Synder Nytefall  at: 4/3/06 1:08

[Monty Leadfist]

He waits patiently. It wasn't silent... far from it. Everybody kept on talking, sure, but not to him. Monty opens one eye, then the other, and puffs up his cheeks, looking furiously from one lady to the others. They had ignored him. The dwarf clenches his heavy hands and stomps his feet a little, snorting down the whiskers just under his nose.

"You have all come to me to learn of the aid that i require. The task i am going to ask you to take part of is a dangerous one. There have been a slew of murders in my city, and a number of witnesses have told me that a pale man in black was the man who commited these atrocities. This murderer has no discriminations, he will murder man, woman, child, elf, human or dwarf....all have fallen to him. he has killed a number of my guard, and i dare not send any more against him, for my men are valuable. I care little for you strangers and thus, you are expendable. I will pay each of you mass sums of money for this task, and some of you may appreciate the fact that you take a mass murderer from this world. Any questions? "

Montgomery's brows come together in irritation. "Lad," he begins sternly, taking a few menacingly steps forward to the guard, "you'n be lissin' right smart, ehnow? Me names'a'bin Montgomery Leadfist. Leadfist, see!?" the dwarf cries, gesturing violently to the gorish scene about his helm.  "En' wedon' benone anyfilth-typemercs. Cos ye'earme, we'n rightohnrble warriors! So donnacometehmehthinninmehInn'elpye!"

[Kain Cristar]

Kain gives the elfess a good long stare, just to make sure she was real. He anticipates the smooth burn of smouldering floorboard to meet his nostrils as the sultry pirate sauntered away. Her very steps could ignite and heart, any passion. She escapes his vision, as mist to the morning glare.

Something close to a smile tugs at one corner of his pale lips, and he turns sharply on a heel. He wonders what those quivering locks feel like, what those full, passionate lips taste like. They must be like fire and blood.

Now his attentions are focused on the gaurd, and perhaps for the slightest of sneering moments at his harlot, as the elfess had so aptly dubbed the gaunt woman. As of yet any other, unmentioned patrons are unnoticed and deftly ignored.

The ancient elf turns on his heel, and gives a small bow. His eyes are carefull not to leave those of the guard as he rises. Before he is able to speak, the beauty begins her own introductions. He allows himself to admire her strangely gracefull abrubtness, then gives his own introduction. I have also been called forth by your gnome, and offer my services as an aspect of the divine. Whatever meaning that divine carried, he seems to leave to the beholder to decipher.

"You have all come to me to learn of the aid that i require. The task i am going to ask you to take part of is a dangerous one. There have been a slew of murders in my city, and a number of witnesses have told me that a pale man in black was the man who commited these atrocities. This murderer has no discriminations, he will murder man, woman, child, elf, human or dwarf....all have fallen to him. he has killed a number of my guard, and i dare not send any more against him, for my men are valuable. I care little for you strangers and thus, you are expendable. I will pay each of you mass sums of money for this task, and some of you may appreciate the fact that you take a mass murderer from this world. Any questions?"

Kain quickly realizes that this man has the mental capacity of a drunken dwarf, and that there would be little investigative work completed. He frowns as he searches his mind for some sort of plan of attack, some way to take what little information they had and find a killer. He knows that they will need much more information that this if they are to start a search.

In fact, dear sir, I have a multitude of queries the likes of which cannot be spoken from mortal lips in a single night. The most simple of these are as follows:

Is there no evidence of motive? Where the bodies plundered? Do you have any information on his probable location? Are there any similairities in the circumstance or practice of the murder? What does he use to kill these men, women, and children? Are there many wounds upon the bodies, or only a simple killing blow? May we call upon any of the witnesses you mentioned? Where these people murdered in their homes? Where they murdered in public? Do you have a map? Have you plotted, or can you plot, the location of each murder for me on said map if available? Does he murder at night, or risk the day? Are the murders acts of intelligent planning, or passion? When was the first murder? How many murders have there been? When was the last? Have you placed any wanted posters?

Kain tries to remember seeing one, but does not.

Does he leave any sort of distinguishing marks on the bodies? Are any of the bodies availible for viewing? Do you know his race? Have you placed any restrictions on travel? If so when? Are you certain that these murders are related? If so why? Of course we have questions child! Do you realize how many of your citizens we would have to kill if we were to act upon these gaunt facts? They are as starving children sucking at a desolate nipple! A pale male wearing dark clothing? Is this all you will tell us of your killer? With your information I could be the very male you seek!

His vioce begins to thrash as storm fraught waters.

Witness the depravity of this journey! You embark into the grey wastes of the unknown, here there lay the mists of oblivion and the darkness of nightmare! Awaken to find yourself alone amidst the nothingness, the null facts which you attempt to appease the voracious beast of investigative research! You can fill not this maw with plaintive cries and whelps, but with fact and reason.

A gentle calm catches his furious lips, and the mage continues with a cold chill. With these idle scraps of knowledge you have no hope of ridding your town of its ills.

Something starts to shout near his theigh, and the glances down to see a drunken dwarf, similiar to the one he feared this captain may be as dull as. "En' wedon' benone anyfilth-typemercs. Cos ye'earme, we'n rightohnrble warriors! So donnacometehmehthinninmehInn'elpye!"

Kain purses his lips for a full three seconds as the distraction consumes his thoughts, his eyes scan back and forth as he attempts to draw some sembilance of meaning from the drivel which had just filled his ears. After those three seconds, he decides that there was no meaning at all, and that the dwarf is insane, or perhaps intolerably stupid. Either way Kain decides that he was best ignored, and deftly returns his scowl to the human gaurd.

You have lived a life of cruelty and atrocity, you have bathed in the blood of the innocent, you have considered every act of depravity and your corruption knows no bounds. I am the angel of justice, I am the accumulation of all of your sins. Prepare for your redemption.

-Kain Cristar, Divine Aspect

Edited by: Kain Cristar  at: 4/20/06 6:37

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