#91
|
|||||
|
|||||
Eirik looks at this armor that was still covered in ogre blood and realized it was probably on his face and hair as well. He thought momentarily about getting cleaned up right away but figured he may as well help with the cleanup since he was already covered in the creature's blood anyway. Responding to the dwarf he says, "Surely it doesn't take two grown men to carry a minstrel, moreso to bury one." With that, he hauls away the body of the ogre he massacred at the beginning of the brawl...well half of it anyway. |
#92
|
|||||
|
|||||
Vindara was not in an entertaing mood any longer. Noting several patrons turned away from the battle, and the unexpected carnage that ensued, she simply wanted to have her barroom back in order. She was losing business, and this could not be allowed. The fact that one of her own performers died by a stray shot from her wand did not seem concern her half as much as getting rid of the evidence, and continuing service as usual. However, she was not without her etiquette, and went to say some words of respect to the poor sod before he was hauled out like so much rubbish. Giving Haldir a thankful squeeze on his arm for his support, she approached Kildren and spoke kind words to him as well. For helping restore the situation, caring for the fallen, and not so much because she felt guilty over being responsible for the man's death, but rather because she knew she was to blame for the crime, and the priest would be looking none too fondly about her. "Thankyou for your kind consideration for my friend here, uh..Riochette. Yes.. he was a good man, with many-a talents. I will miss his performances dearly.... I suppose I should Inform the guard of this.... tragedy." after her requisite tirade, she moves off to coordinate the efforts of her henchmen, the Lizardman, his friend the Beholderkin, and the strange Mycodnid.
Zifnab the Zealot has already seemed to have gotten his bearings, as well as his hat. Looking about the feathered barroom, it almost seems to have snowed inside. This thought gives him back his broad smile, and his jovial mood is soon to follow. "Well there, you see, my boys? Evidence right there that this mission is not to be taken lightly! For there will always be obstacles in the paths of progress!" at this he pans around the room as if the fight with the ogres makes plain evidence for anyone to see, despite having caused the trouble himself, and he makes an exaggerated check of his pocketwatchsomething small and golden tucked within his robes, "And I will not let this little 'tussle' sway me from my course! The hour is nigh gentlemen! Whats say you? Do you stay? or Do you go now?" not even waiting for the situation to be resolved in the slightest, the old man makes his way to the back of the barroom, heading for the staircase leading to the upper floors of the Inn, where one would normally find nothing but rooms available for rent. "Now is the time, my boys! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to walk amongst the stars! How could any of you, with your abilities without question, be tempted to pass on such adventure!" giving one last gander at each of the bashers square in the eye, he turns to triumphantly take the stairs like he was about to beset upon the tallest of mountains, "What with the promise to be in your bed again before the suns rises? Come now boys! Keep an eye on me back whilst I plot our course across the Tears of Selune, to the Castle in the Sky on the Night of the Eye!" Having run out of patience for the crazy OldMan, Vindara sees him away with a "Harrumph" and a dismissive wave. While she seemed intrigued by his proclamations earlier (perhaps it was moreso his drawing of business) Now it seemed she was totally over the Loon and his tales, wishing only to get her Inn back under control. She was already ordering other performers to get the band going again, as if this was all a minor inconvenience. |
#93
|
||||
|
||||
Kildren was baffled by the other priests reply, but he shook it off and carried on about giving the bloke a proper burial. A small found its way on Kildren's bloated face, not because of Lady Vindara's comments towards him, but because of her comments toward the bloke she had accidentally killed. "Oh don't mind me, I'm just doing my job miss."
He carefully dragged the body of Riochette outside to the small patch of grass towards the left of the entrance to the Inn. Knowing he didn't have enough time to dig down far enough, he stopped at 4 feet, only making sure it was barely long and wide enough for the bloke. Before turning away after covering up his hasty work and marking it with the symbol of his God, Tyr, he spoke as if he was speaking to the Gods. "Let this man find peace in the afterlife," he paused trying to think of what he could possibly say about a man he never knew, "If what Lady Vindara said was true, let this performer rest in peace, let him find joy and happiness in the realm of the dead." Kildren hurried back inside knowing there was more to be done. As he entered the Inn he caught the last part of what the Old Man was saying. In his heart Kildren wanted to go, for he knew the Old Man would need someone to look after him, but he also knew if he wasn't back at the Temple of Tyr, in Neverwinter by mid-day tomorrow he would have a lot of explaining to do. He quickly thought it over and followed the Old Man, not on the urge for adventure, but knowing his talents would come of use and that if what he was saying was true, he would hopefully be back in time to make it to his temple. Last edited by Addar; Oct 31st, 2012 at 08:28 PM. Reason: fixed grammar errors |
#94
|
|||||
|
|||||
Haldir looked at the mage and Kildren, who followed him to the staircase. He had decided the Old Man was crazy and didn't believe his story one bit. He had already experienced what could happen around the mage in just a few brief minutes and wondered how he had made it this long in this world...
|
#95
|
||||
|
||||
Sam was doing well enough in his stable and upon noticing the distressed looking Kildren performing his service for the late music maker, Bofgar quietly assembled and mumbled a few solemn words. "The earth reclaim's its prize, but his soul be free now, at rest in the evermore."
With that Bofgar hoisted his axe and returned to the Inn with a forceful kick on the door, his donkey in tow. He was back in time to catch the wizards obsessive ramblings about the journey. Under other circumstances, Bofgar would have quickly abandoned this entire haphazard proposition but now he was determined to bring some purpose to the minstrel's death. Or at least that was one excuse, the possibility of setting foot upon a celestial being was beginning to sink in, and the idea was as intoxicating as the ale in his gut. Mostly addressing the old man, "Ill be joining this party in the sky, alas my faithful ass also fancy's this idea. How about that then, be room for a pack mule?" |
#96
|
|||||
|
|||||
The earth reclaims its prize, but his soul be free now, at rest in the evermore. the elf whispers under his breath. What a quaint prize.
Serlehne approaches the oldman and lightly touches his arm... Do I have time to order some more fruit, old one? For the journey - I mean...
__________________
Irongate Foghorn, Second son of Clan Ironforge Profile ~+~ Serlehne Grimdaar, Rejected Son of Willowthrone Profile Last edited by tealcisgod; Nov 8th, 2012 at 10:07 AM. |
#97
|
|||||
|
|||||
Eirik dumps the remains of the ogre he downed nearby outside, leaving the rest to the Mycodian who seems to be cleaning up with less effort, albeit at a slower pace. Reaching into his nearly empty coin pouch, he takes out a single silver coin and flips it to the lizardman. "Sorry about the mess." Without waiting for answer he follows the old man up the stairs. If what he said was true, they'd only have a window of opportunity to get there and back.
|
#98
|
|||||
|
|||||
The Oldman just couldn't resist a little hesitation when climbing the staircase at the back of the barroom of the Misty Beard. Whether it was to build the suspense, or perhaps he was waiting to see how many of these alleged "heroes" would follow him on his mission of lunacy, maybe it was simply old age. Whatever the reason may be, his delay allowed Kildren, Eirik, Bofgar, and Serlehne all to catch him up on the landing of the second story. Only to hear him muttering under his breath about “…the laziness of youth nowadays!”
Here is where the staircase allows patrons to their rooms, which lay in a long hallway opposing the landing. There are at least a dozen rooms leading off both sides of the long and dimly lit hall, along with a few chairs and tables scattered about for loungers. After a long moment of pause (and much confusion), ensuring his little ducklings where all in a row, Zif dismisses stray questions with a backhanded wave, “no time sonny! No Time!” and proceeds up the final flight of stairs to the third story. Near the landing a large table stands alone with only a few candles about its far side. Otherwise the small, enclosed room was dark and quiet. Opposite the staircase is a small round port-window, through which the Tears could be seen plainly, however Selune was not in line of sight. Across from the table lies a massive wooden door strapped in wrought iron, a small sign reading "OFFICE" was barely visible beneath the tarnish of ages. It is here where the Old man produces an impossibly long roll of parchments from within the sleeves of his robe, smoothing them out on the table. Pinning down the curling edges with the candles, with their wavering flames provided naught but dancing shadows and a confusing view of the documents lying beneath, the Oldman begins speculating over the ginormous pile of scrolls. Muttering to himself, the Oldman whispers something in a "Shriak!" harsh rasp and pulls a bright ball of light from inside his other hand. It's sharp glare throws the room into the stark relief of bright daylight, and the effect is disorientating to even the hardened characters accompanying the Old Magus. Casually tossing the glowing orb onto the table, it bounces off the surface of some parchments (without any effect whatsoever) and bounces once, to hang in the air, suspended. The group has but a moment to peek at the scrawlings on the sheets, and they appear to be everything from astrological maps to gnomish schematics for (the Oldman's spyglass being the one on top.)strange devices, Acting as if this was completely ordinary behavior, Zif is seemingly unaware of the growls from the group concerning their eyes and the blinding magelight, and simply continues a conversation started previously by himself. "And then just one twist at the end here... " you notice then he's manipulating the spyglass he was proudly touting about previously with so much bravado,"And then I insert the Monocle into the spyglass, just as such.." he produces a small glass disk outfitted with a wispy thin gold chain from one of his many unseen pouches within his robe, and inserts it into the far end of the telescope, covering the larger lens at the far end. It fits in with a smooth click. It sounded so ... right. Like the Monocle was meant to be there in the first place. “And now the watch…” with a simple flick of his wrist the interesting golden medallion he was looking at earlier once again appeared in his hand, from seemingly nowhere. A quick tap of the button on the top made the device pop open, so that it looked like two large coins held in his hands. Giving the device on last quick check, the Oldman gasps at what he sees “Now Son! Now is the Time!” He thrusts the Spyglass into the hands of Serlehne with such dramatic flamboyance the rouge could only intercept it from disemboweling him. “No time for delay here, My Boy! I need ye to take me Spyglass now and do as I say and Do It Fast! Take the Glass and look down ‘er to the watch, Son! Be sure ye get a more then a glimpse at ‘er Son! Make sure you see ‘er straight and True!” taken aback by these turn or events, and more-or-less just along for the ride, Serlehne can’t act fast enough for the Oldman’s patience, and Zif actually grabs the young man bodily and attempts to put him in position as if he were a mannequin. When the rouge gets the long (and deceptively Heavy) telescope up to his eye, he tries to get the pocketwatch in sight as best he can, for it’s the only thing the Oldman can say any more. "Here, Son! The Watch! Look to the pocketwatch! Lookey here and see us there!" When being jostled around by the feeble (and short) Magus is becoming more of a hindrance that help, Zif finally relents in his puppeteering in favor of trying to get his watch in position at the far end of the scope, where he is now eagerly awaiting the rouge to give the go-ahead. Either being too excited to actually hear the rouge say anything at all, or simply senile, the oldman exclaims, ”Here we go boys! One for the Money, Two for the Show, Three to get Ready… and Four to….” From a little hole behind the door, overlooked by all, the Kilmoulis darted out at the last second and made for Zif’s leg. “You can’t forget me Friend! You promised you’d take me along! I want to come so bad! Please let me go, too Mr.Zifnab the Zealot! I really am scared to leave you to go by yourself! What if you get hurt up there! You need me!” His never-ending pleas are accompanied by that unyielding stream of empathic emotions, and this time they’re strong feelings of doubt and fear, panic and loneliness, all bundled together and shoved into the Zif’s mind at once, distracting him so that he can scale his mouse-colored robes and find a safe spot to stowaway in. Trying his best to not be distracted by the incessant mental tugs of the Nose-Creature, Zif pushes the button on the pocketwatch a second time and that’s the last thing you see. Only Haldir, whom stayed behind, was able to catch the initial explosion from the vantage point of a spectator- at first. It started out as a weird warbling sound, to be immediately followed by the huge crashing of the timbers of the Inn giving away. It was like a whole forest was felled right above your head. This was accompanied by the sound of everything being swallowed hole, a sort of Whoosh, not unlike the sound of a great Wyrm right before she unleashes her fiery breath. Vindara screams, but her cry is lost in the roar of the collapsing Inn. It started from the top of the building; the Iron bracers holding up the huge timbers that support the granite block building all began buckling in slow succession. The sound was beyond queer, as the Inn wasn’t blown apart outwards by some forceful explosion as one would expect, but rather it was being devoured from the inside out. There was no debris, only this ever growing rumbling, this ungodly shaking of the foundation that just got worse and worse. Louder and Louder. It all happened too fast for anyone still in the Barroom to react; most were frozen in place by sheer horror. Then the Ceiling exploded upwards and disappeared into a whirling storm of energy, growing ever larger by the moment. Anyone fortunate enough to see their death before it took them noticed it was of a very definite ring shape, with a hollow in the middle, and as it grew in size, so did it move away from it’s center, leaving only emptiness. The sound was deafening. The Vortex was actively drawing everything up and into it with unnatural force. It was as if the Inn itself were being swallowed by an angry god. Anything and anyone not fastened down or anchored was immediately drawn up and consumed. The lizardman went first, as did most of the stray patrons. The violet Mistress and Haldir, though they fought valiantly to hold onto something –anything- didn’t stand a chance. The Beholderkin was taken soon after. The serving sprites were able to skirt out of the way as soon as the rumbling first began, and so were spared the onslaught of the storm. Others, like the Mycodnid seem too heavy for immediate flight. All of this lasted only a few moments longer, until the vortex grew so large, it reached the outer walls of the inn, dropping the remains of the entire structure upon itself. Finally played out, the explosion took the Misty Beard in its entirety, leaving behind nothing but rubble, broken over its foundation. It was a gravesite. Last edited by Split; Nov 16th, 2012 at 04:11 PM. |
#99
|
|||||
|
|||||
|
#100
|
|||||
|
|||||
:-(
|
#101
|
|||||
|
|||||
I too am sad... I was looking forward to some mind bending action.
__________________
This space reserved. |
![]() |
Thread Tools | |
|
|