[Nexus] The Black Dragon's Den XI

[Hyperbolic sine]

Shoyler speaks to his group, confident in his new entourage of warriors. I can lay wards at the entrances to your rooms tonight. They'll keep out all undead, so you should be safe from anything like that. Hmm. My allies from The Burning Light should be here momentarily. Everything will be going according to the plan I have written. But, tonight I think we'd do well in having some time to meet eachother, and to maybe have a little bit of fun. We have a long and... possibly quite stressful.

Now, tell me... What were your first experiences with one of the undead? He smiles and places his hands at the table, ready for some pleasant conversation. Sometimes it was nice just to talk.

Pleasant conversation was the last thing this would bring from Arlen, as his smile faded he stared blankly at the table. Lost in his own mind reliving some internal struggle.
"Orcus..." he whispers to himself under the conversation of others stories.
Suddenly Arlen arose shooting up from his chair.
"Sir Shoyler!"
Arlen interrupts.
"If I my assistance is currently not required may I be excused? "
Arlen pre-emptively assumes the answer, readying himself and nodding to his friends as he turns to the door all while holding the facade of a cheerful, anxious child.

"What an energetic child." He watches Arlen walk away, with a perplexed look and a smirk. "Be sure to return before the dark!" Then he turns to Shoyler. "My first experience with undeads? Bah, fighting mindless, animated corpses was nothing worth telling. My first encounter with a vampire, instead, probably is. Make yourselves comfortable, it is going to be a long story..."

----Updated----

"It was a few months after I became a full fledged operative. My team and I were tasked with...suppressing...a group of cultists that used black bagic and threatened to conjure a horde of demons. A routine mission, in short. Well, we barged in their hideout, a catacomb under an old building, killed all of them without much effort and began to erase all proof of their dark rituals, as required by the protocol. Then, as we were about to leave, a teammate of mine discovered a hidden hatch, which led to what seemed to be a prison for those who were destined to become human sacrifices for the cult's rites: some cells were occupied, so we freed the captives and sent them to have their memories erased. I was the last one down there, when the corpse that I should have brought back with me to be incinerated, that of a young man, suddenly rose and attacked me, trying to bite my neck: I sent him flying to the other side of the cell, and was going to execute him, when he suddenly fell on his knees and started begging for mercy. 'I thought you were one of the jailers', he said. 'Please don't kill me, I didn't mean to attack you'. 'You are a vampire', I replied, 'I cannot have you going around biting people's necks'. He started crying. 'Please, please, spare me. They turned me into this...this thing. I...I don't want to die! I swear I never did and I'll never do something bad! I'll drink animal blood! Please let me go!'. I was young at the time, and I was an idealist." Alistair's eyes darken. "He had me fooled, and I let him go, without telling anyone. For a year or two I never heard of him again, and all the vampires I encountered subsequently were either openly hostile or killed by someone else. Then, the families of my former teammates began to be attacked, and murdered in gruesome ways, by their own members. I tried to forget, but some things are just engraved with fire in your memory...I remember that the eight-years-old daughter of one of them - Mark, was his name - one day just grabbed an ice pick and started slaughtering her grandparents, and even her mother. Mind controlled, I would learn later. Anyway, she was driven insane by the act, and it was too much for Mark: the poor man hanged himself." Alistair's face is a mask of sadness, while he recalls the painful memories of those times. "He was the first...the others had less traumatic experiences. Luckily, I thought. What a fool. They were still driven into extreme despair, and one after another they resigned. Then, each one of them was kidnapped, turned into a vampire and unleashed on the unsuspecting population. I had to personally kill every one of them...and then the culprit revealed himself to me. You probably know already who it was, but at the time I was utterly shocked: yes, he was the vampire whom I showed mercy years before." He clenches his fists. "He told me that he was actually the head of that cult, and that was his revenge for foiling his plans. I was overwhelmed with rage, at the thought that it was my fault that so much innocents died: we battled furiously, but he was powerful too and managed to escape. I hunted him for years, the desire for vengeance keeping me from falling in the pit of despair: at last I managed to capture him and avenge all his victims, but I never again made the mistake of showing mercy." He sighs, as if to wash away all the sorrow that story recalled him, then his expression returns normal. "Maybe if we did have the possibility to turn vampires humans once more, things would have gone different...well, the past is past. I'm curious about your story, Sir McTowry..."

[Cloud Rat]

A half-orc with an eye patch, dressed all in black and hefting a huge mordenkrad.
He wears a swirling cloak and pendants of both The Raven Queen and Kelemvor.

Along his belt is a machete and a small box full poisons. He sits near the corner, takes out a small, beat-up book with Kelemvor's symbol on it, and reads while he waits for his contractor.

[Arkhosia]

A half-orc with an eye patch, dressed all in black and hefting a huge mordenkrad.
He wears a swirling cloak and pendants of both The Raven Queen and Kelemvor.

Along his belt is a machete and a small box full poisons. He sits near the corner, takes out a small, beat-up book with Kelemvor's symbol on it, and reads while he waits for his contractor.

The half orc is approached by a tal, spindly figurein a long, dark green. obscuring cloak and a small, slender figure in similar garb.
"are you the assassin?"
thetall figure inquires

[Holy-hunter]

As Alistair starts his story Arlen is already halfway to the exit and picks up his pace passing the halforc, moving more hastily as he nears the door until he throws it open and disappears out off to the side. Out of site.
It had been a full day, and a lot was running through Arlen's mind but the thought that prevailed over it all was his anger towards himself.
With his head against his forearm he falls heavily into the side of the tavern, his spare hand thunders against the hard surfaced wall as he channels his rage and pain out into it until his knuckles are burning numb and raw.
It was one thing to be weak and another to show it, he felt like he was a fraud stepping into the biggest lie ever by joining himself amongst hunter's, heroes and men, and he had already nearly exposed himself over a simple conversation...

Arlen twists so his back is against the wall and he slowly slumps to the ground taking a deep sigh, looking towards the sky as if gravity can help hold the tears away.

It was a topic too soon for Arlen to share, the memories that still haunt him broke him down into the weak worthless quivering pile that he so fears to be, and he resents himself for not being emotionally stronger. He could not let his new friends see him like this.
He had to get stronger, there was vengeance still to be paid.
Realising he had wasted enough time the boy pulls himself together, wipes his face and bleeding knuckles clean of debris and draws his sword and begins the all too familiar flow of strikes, the memorised sequence he had gained from observing the local town guards day in and day out, now flowing with a repetitive calming ease, the very same actions like so many times before.

Spoiler: looking for a fight lesser Vampire or cultist role,

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if anybody would like to do a combat scene I am looking to fight a creature either undead or aligned with them, right now Arlen is the weak creature separated from the herd. Prepared to lose but don't want to die and hoping one of the hunters I have just aligned with will come to the rescue at the last minute. If interested just post and approach :)

[Morty]

Dipsnig undeadtimes, looking somewhat bored. It seems nothing is happening to make a bad day better.

[Cloud Rat]

The half orc is approached by a tal, spindly figurein a long, dark green. obscuring cloak and a small, slender figure in similar garb.
"are you the assassin?"
thetall figure inquires

The half-orc quietly nods, not looking up from his tattered religious book.

[KerfuffleMach2]

As Alistair tells his story, Ivaz has to stop herself from grinning at various parts. She found it amusing, and she made a mental note to remember the part about the ice pick specifically. She hadn't killed anybody that way yet.

When his story is over, she shakes her head a bit. Man, that was kinda brutal. Sorry, buddy. Then she turns her head to look at Shoyler expectantly.

[Arkhosia]

The half-orc quietly nods, not looking up from his tattered religious book.

As Alistair tells his story, Ivaz has to stop herself from grinning at various parts. She found it amusing, and she made a mental note to remember the part about the ice pick specifically. She hadn't killed anybody that way yet.

When his story is over, she shakes her head a bit. Man, that was kinda brutal. Sorry, buddy. Then she turns her head to look at Shoyler expectantly.

Oliver voices his agreement, staying in the sidelines of the conversation still.
Then, a vampire approaches the gathering.
Tall, pale-skinned and red-eyed, clad in a blue blouse, sneakers, and black leggings, with a sailor's cap on her head, her raven black hair flowing loosely down her back, Aerith approaches the group tentatively.
I wish to make a request of a truce of one day.

[Hyperbolic sine]

I wish to make a request of a truce of one day.

Alistair does not respond. With his story still lingering in his mind, the vampire had chosen a really bad moment...but, he follows orders, and the chief is Shoyler. Should a fight break out, he will start with telekinetically disarming the opponent.

Meanwhile, a shady figure completely covered by a hooded cloak follows Arlen Outside.

----Updated----

Alistair notices the shady figure. At first he simply ignores them - they are probably just some eccentric customer - but after a while the fact that Arlen is outside come to his mind...since he does not really want to ruin the attempt at diplomacy by blurting out something inappropriate (normally he wouldn't do it, but telling the story digged up his hatred for vampires, and he had not cooled off completely), he decides to go check on the boy and take a breath of fresh air. "I am going to check on Arlen...I will be back, do not worry." With that, he gets up from the chair and heads for the door: those who did not witness him entering the inn (that is, probably anyone except Shoyler) may notice now that his right leg is lame, and that he uses the umbrella as a walking cane.

[Morty]

Dipsnig undeadtimes once again, sighing and leaning back in his chair. Nothing interesting happening apart from some nutcases and their drama, which he sees no reason to pay attention to.

[Arkhosia]

The half-orc quietly nods, not looking up from his tattered religious book.

Excellent. Your job is to kill this woman
The cloaked figure holds up a picture of a olive-skinned woman with unnaturally blue eyes, her long black hair and attractive form hidden in a blue cloak drawn around the wary-looking woman, who appears to be clad in a matching shirt, black leggings, and black shoes.
This is Sakura Murasaki, a nereid and ex-assassin. I need her dead. She is a shapeshifter, but no matter what form she takes it is either of water or human woman with the same blue eyes as in this picture. She favors the form in the image, however.
The man says.
My ally, another assassin, will aid you on your mission.
He gestures to the smaller figure, who takes the hood off, revealing a olive-skinned androgynous human... well, human if he didn't have the orange and black butterfly wings protruding from her back, folded up currently with only the top visible under his short, dark red hair, cut in a moptop.
Hello, Name's Erin Lepidoptera, I will be your aid on this mission. I specialize in sniping and surveillance.
He replies, smiling slightly, her orange eyes full of eagerness, and yet a hint of nervousness as well.

[Cloud Rat]

The half-orc coughs and stands up, tucking away his book. Upon getting a good look at him, it seems he's wearing spiked plate armor- doesn't look like he'd be very sneaky at all!

...

Are you a boy or a girl?

Also, where is the quarry located?

[Arkhosia]

The half-orc coughs and stands up, tucking away his book. Upon getting a good look at him, it seems he's wearing spiked plate armor- doesn't look like he'd be very sneaky at all!

...

Are you a boy or a girl?

Also, where is the quarry located?

That's for me to know.
Erin replies, frowning, her arms crossed.

That's a bit of a sensitive topic for him or her, I don't even know.
She's located in Inside as far as we know.
The man replies, wondering how the heck this man could be a stealthy guy.

[Cloud Rat]

The half-orc sighs, He had always hated dealing with difficult partners, and it looked like this pixie(?) wouldn't disappoint him.

All right, Does she know that we could be trailing her?

[Arkhosia]

The half-orc sighs, He had always hated dealing with difficult partners, and it looked like this pixie(?) wouldn't disappoint him.

All right, Does she know that we could be trailing her?

By small I meant short. He's 5'2".
No, I doubt it. She probably thinks the people hiring us are dead.
Erin replies, her boss nodding in confirmation.

[Cloud Rat]

Alright. Are there any special powers or abilities she has we should know about?

The orc hefts his spiked hammer. It's getting a little heavy.

[Arkhosia]

Alright. Are there any special powers or abilities she has we should know about?

The orc hefts his spiked hammer. It's getting a little heavy.

Just shapeshifting, but her clothing and weapons are shapeshifted parts of her as well, in a way.
The spindly figure replies

[Cloud Rat]

All right, if there are no other things I should know, let's head out.

[Arkhosia]

All right, if there are no other things I should know, let's head out.

Erin nods.
Lead the way, sir!
She replies, adjusting her cloak and revealing that he wears black shorts, dark green combat boots, a navy blue hoodie, and a curious, leaf-shaped necklace. A bag of holding hangs from the black belt wrapping around his waist.

[Cloud Rat]

((Would you like to post in the appropriate thread first? If so, where?

Also, I posted for your drowess!))

[Arkhosia]

((Would you like to post in the appropriate thread first? If so, where?

Also, I posted for your drowess!))

((no, you can. Inside would be it.))

[Hattish Thing]

Shoyler listens to his new friend's story, his face forming a sad little grimace as he quietly looks over the man who had been through so much. The Hunstman speaks to Alistair, a morose smile on his lips. Stories like Alistair's were always slightly unnerving. You're a strong soul, to be the man you are through all the trials thrown at you in in your past. Many a man would have simply given up, or ran in your place. But not you. I respect that.

Heh... here's to hoping we can make sure no on else experiences what you do.

He'll raise his large tankard high before taking a deep swig, needing the alcohol to prepare for the story he was about to tell. Can't tell a story with a dry throat now can you! Once he's about done with his generous swig, he shrugs and speaks, hohis deep voice crackling like a fireplace. Mmm... not much of a storyteller, my friend. But I can certainly try.

Once there was a little boy, born to a family of traders. His mum was plain, his father struggling to feed his family. Despite this, the child was a happy boy. He lived in a small town... Briar Point was the name. Not a rich town. Not a powerful town. Nothing unusual, why, the place was just as plain as it's inhabitants. Years passed, and the boy yearned to be something more. A great knight, perhaps. A legendary warrior, like the men and women he'd hear about in books.

But it seemed lifehad different plans for the boy. His father was killed one day by an unknown entity while making the trade trip to Maverton, a town close by. Once he died, the entire boy had to work to continue his life. He became a miner, and operated in the largest mine in town, by Sortli's Hill. It was hard work, yes. But honest work. This continued for five more years, until the boy became a man, at the age of seventeen.

Then, the nations of Salveria and United Lereftaine declared war over a territory dispute. Very quickly, the war came to Briar Point. A small legion of soldiers marched into Briar Point, killing who they could, and pillaging everything else. The boy had no skill in combat, no knowledge of the cruelty of men... He locked himself in his home that terrible night, as his town burnt, and as everything he knew was destroyed....

Eventually the soldiers reached the family house just at the top of Sortli's Hill... they broke the door down, and went from room to room, stealing what they could and destroying everything else. His mothe begged him to go, for she knew if they caught him, they'd kill him. The boy ran as fast as he could, his gentle life breaking as the soldiers raped and killed his last relative. Those screams would haunt him the rest of his life.

The young man fled into the wilderness, lost, dazed, and heartbroken. He would have died had not a traveller found him in the woods, miles away from the razed town. The traveller was a an knight of Kelemvor, and the paladin took the boy in and returned to his guild fort. The young man was ashamed that he could not save his loved ones, and begged to be trained by the paladins of the guild.

And so for another three years the young man trained, his rage equalled only by the serenity the paladins taught. The war had ended, a two year treaty brought forth by a long stalemate. The man had become a fully fledged knight, going on missions to escort traders, or smite the occasional necromancer profiting upon the increase in corpses. He was strong now, and mighty. And he never forgot, and he never forgave.

Then, the war resumed. The proud Hand of Kelemvor joined the Salverian Militia as a battle medic, using his divine powers to bolster his allies, and to wreak his vengeance upon the evil. He never found the soldiers agqin, no, but plenty of Lereftese blood was spilt by his hand. The fires of revenge faded as he grew older, and once the war was over he began roaming the lands, helping all that he could and destroying all the evil he encountered, until he one day wandered into a summoning circle, shunting him away from his homeland.

What became of that little boy is sitting before you.

---

After his story, he glares over towards the vampiric individual approaching, his thick eyebrows adding to the cleric's intimidating grimace. He reaches to grab the handle of his greathammer, though he doesn't get up. Excuse me? His tone is deathly calm.

[Ashen Lilies]

Spoiler: One Week Ago

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"My little Nightraven, there is a small task I need you to do."
Nightraven turned her head up. She was lying against her mistress' belly, pressing her cheek against the silk of her mistress' dress, while her mistress' long, delicate fingers softly stroked Nightraven's hair. Nightraven was not clothed, save for the black collar around her neck, that marked her as her mistress' property.
"My life is yours, Mistress." Nightraven said.
Her mistress nodded.
"One week's ride from here, in the city of Inside, a band of men begin to gather. In a week they will meet in a place called the Black Dragon's Den, and then they will ride forth and hunt. A hunt for all those who dare call the night their home."
Nightraven sat up. She understood. Her armor and blades lay in the corner of her cell. At a moment's notice she could don them and prepare to draw blood in service to her mistress.
"You must only speak the word, Mistress. I will erase your enemies from the world, as you have bid me do before."
Her mistress smiled. Her fangs glinted in the candlelight.
"You misunderstand me, sweetlet. They are not my enemies. They are my friends. I ask you to go help them."
Nightraven halted, confused. Surely if these hunters sought to destroy creatures of the night, that would bring them right to her mistress' door. How could they be her friends?
"Help them? How, Mistress?"
"Go to them, little dove. But do not wear your own face. Hide your identity. Join them. Help them slay their prey. Serve these hunters as faithfully as you have served me."
"I do not understand, Mistress-"
The woman's fingers tightened around Nightraven's hair, tugging painfully, cutting her off.
"I do not ask you to understand. I ask you to obey."
"Yes, Mistress. It will be as you command." Her mistress released her grip, stroking Nightraven's hair once more to smooth it flat, then moving to grab the goblet of wine from the bedside table.
"Good. Ride now. I had hoped to drink from you once more before you left, but you must leave immediately if you wish to catch them. I, too, have my own journey to make. If all goes well, then by the time you have joined the hunters I will be in place myself, where I can keep in touch if I need to."
Nightraven nodded, standing. Her mistress' will was clear to her. She left.

[Tonight]

A young woman steps into the tavern. She is of middling height, though slender, and extraordinarily pale of complexion, with fine black hair that falls in waves to her shoulders. Her clothing is odd - primarily seeming to consist of molded black leather plates over some sort of formfitting black clothing, including a segmented breastplate. The breastplate is covered by a white, high collared half-jacket that goes up to her chin, clasped at the front, with a sleeve that flares out and ends short of her elbow on the right arm, but extends into a small capelet on the left. The rear of the coat tapers into a pair of swallow-like tails that hang below her knees. On opposite hips she bears a pair of sheathed blades - one longer, one shorter, both razor thin with elegantly curved ricassos that sweep back to protect the hand. She scans the tavern with ice-blue eyes, looking for the hunters she has come to join.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Ivaz listened to Shoyler's story, wondering if they were going to demand her history as well. She was gonna have to come up with something, because they probably wouldn't like the truth.

As she got an idea of what to say in her head, the vampire approached the table and made its request. Ivaz, still seated with her boots on the table and her hands behind her head, raised her eyebrows at the other woman. She even gave a short snort of laughter. You are either really brave or really stupid.

Ivaz sees the armored woman enter. She watches her for a moment, then, not knowing who she is or what she wants, turns her attention back to the vampire.

[Arkhosia]

Ivaz listened to Shoyler's story, wondering if they were going to demand her history as well. She was gonna have to come up with something, because they probably wouldn't like the truth.

As she got an idea of what to say in her head, the vampire approached the table and made its request. Ivaz, still seated with her boots on the table and her hands behind her head, raised her eyebrows at the other woman. She even gave a short snort of laughter. You are either really brave or really stupid.

Ivaz sees the armored woman enter. She watches her for a moment, then, not knowing who she is or what she wants, turns her attention back to the vampire.

I prefer the former.
I'm planning to propose to my girlfriend. I request that, if we do get married, you will not disrupt our wedding.
Aerith requests, tentatively and obviously nervous.

[Hattish Thing]

As the Huntsman glances over towards the foolish vampire, the armor clad female catches his eye. Now there was a true warrior. Beautiful armor, nice leather plates, a well made coat. All of it was perfection. Perhaps she was some sort of mercenary. Hmm. Doesn't matter, really. He quickly turns back to the vampire across from him, his collected brown eyes calm but piercing.

The powerful cleric stands up, his intimidating armor jingling as the heavy metal plates interlock. He's imposing, easily towering over most men, espescially seeing as his thick combat boots add a few more inches. He's a big, muscular, battle-hardened Hunter, and he's grabbing his large greathammer from beneath the table.

Probably bad news for Aerith.

The cleric will speak to her, his greathammer now in his great gauntlet-clad hands. A wedding? Hmm. How unfortunate. It'd be a downright shame for a cancellation. Sanctity of marriage is an honorable thing after all. However... I don't believe it applies to undead. He'll move closer to the vampire, his large hammer looking more dangerous by the second. Tell me... who will be authenticating your marriage? Surely not a priest....

[Ionbound]

Shoyler and Co. might notice a bit of a shimmer in the air indicating the presence of a scrying sensor hovering around, taking stock of the situation.

[Morty]

Dipsnig sighs and taps a crystal on his bracer. It causes his power armour to materialize behind him. Hopefully it'll be enough of a suggestion that starting anything in the Den is not a good idea.

[Artemis97]

The front door of the tavern swings open and in steps a drow. His blue-black skin had a grayish cast and his red eyes burned like embers. He wore chainmail over black leather, under a fur-lined cloak. The drow was clearly armed, a matched set of hand crossbows hung from his belt beside a pair of thin, well worn longswords. Those in the know would recognize him as Sszinyon Xar'Cha, younger brother of Raril, the owner of the Den. It was not a well kept secret that the two hated one another.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Ivaz gives another snort of laughter, shaking her head a bit. If you get married? Don't even know yet? Heh. And you want us to avoid the ceremony itself. She shrugs a bit. Eh, I was never big on those anyways. Of course, I can't promise about after. Or before. Or anybody else here. She gives a sly grin.

Ivaz is still in her relaxed pose. She is giving no sign that she's gonna fight the vampire here.