Ambrosia Software Web Board: The Alraeican Tavern - Part IX - Ambrosia Software Web Board

The guard suddenly looked down and noticed that the document he was holding was missing. "What?!" he roared aloud. "Where did the letter go?"

He looked up in time to see an animated cloak sweep across the floor, letter in hand, and pass it to Brianna. She looked at it curiously, then up at the ghost, who only shrugged in response. Brianna eyed the head guard. "Sir, I do believe I, in place of our illiterate bartender, have the right to read this document before allowing you to remove any of the patrons from this premise."

"But- but-" the guard faltered as he watched Brianna open the scroll, his eyes starting to open wide in horror. "No, you can't- don't-!"

"What's this?" Her eyes flicked back and forth, brows furrowed in confusion, reading through the paper quickly. She held it up for all to see. "Does anyone know what this is?"

Alice was standing nearby, sword out with shreds of a guard's tunic hanging from the blade. He put his sword tip on the floor and rested his weight on it, peering over Brianna's shoulder. "'New magical capabilities! Lose weight fast! Safe, fast, and effective! Side effects may include sporadic bleeding, unbearable pain, and occasionally death... contact your local alterist today for more info!'" Alice raised his eyebrows so high they disappeared under his hair. "Hm. Sounds like spam to me."

Brianna shook the paper in the air and glared at the guard. "This is no official letter from the judge. What is the meaning of this?!"

"The jig's up!" one of the other guards said frantically. "Tell them, boss!"

The head guard looked around in fright. Suddenly the patrons looked a lot more intimidating. "It's true!" he said, bowing his head pathetically. "It was all a plot, just a big ruse. It was my idea. I made up the instructions so that I could get you rowdy folk kicked out and open up..."

"Open up what?" someone demanded.

He seemed to crumple as he buried his face in his hands. "I was going to open up a pizza joint instead!"

A uproarious wave of noise sounded from the patrons as they started shouting at the same time, yelling about honour and how it could never be replaced, and how they would fight to the death to keep scum like him out of their precious tavern. The Scribe raised his hand and gestured for quiet. Eventually, the noise died down, and he peered at the head guard. "Well, I believe there's only one solution for this," he said mildly, and looked around at the patrons. "One... two... three... go!"

An even louder roar erupted, and the patrons suddenly started throwing everything in reach at the intrusive guards. Finding himself the victim of tossed chairs, flying drinks, and (bizzarely) the occasional large chucked rib bone, the guard yelled to his men and beat a fast retreat out the door.

The yells turned into cheers as the last one slammed the door behind him, and Alice turned to the walking cloak, eyeing his ghost begrudgingly. "Fine, fine," he muttered. "Thank you for stealing the letter." Mumbling something to himself about zombies being preferable, Alice sat down at the bar and ordered a mug of water from the mute frog.


[OoC] Happy Taverning, everyone! *bows* [BiC]

This post has been edited by iKaterei: 15 January 2007 - 06:09 AM

Now that the brawl was over, Silverfish looked thoughtful for a moment, and then on a whim turned to Retsy, "I suggest opening a string of pizza-joints in every city of Cythera. -If you still want to be an Evil Sorceress and take over."
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
Jehezekel sat by the side of the road, eating a small lunch of bread and cheese, and reviewing his visit to LandKing Hall. Alaric had been friendly enough, but his eye held a look of concern. It was this concern that Jehezekel sought to understand. If the Balance got out of line, there were plenty of heros ready to right it, so that shouldn't be a problem. He gazed across the fields of Cythera's agricultural district, flax harvest was in full swing.

Jehezekel sat up, "Flax harvest! I've always wanted to help with a flax harvest!" Concern forgotten for a time, he hurried off to help with the harvest.
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
Far away, in LandKing Hall, a look of hope overshadowed the concern in Alaric's eye.

This post has been edited by Jehezekel: 15 January 2007 - 08:53 AM

Sideline stood at the door. "Alright, show's over and the undertaker's waiting. Anybody who's coming to the funeral, now's the time."

He walked out the door, followed by Brianna, the Scribe, and a few others.

Mort sat at the bar, thoughtfully tapping his cheekbone. The baleful look in his glowing eyesockets boded ill for whoever he was thinking about. Presently, he rose to his feet and pulled his hood up over his head.

{{ I'll be back soon - somebody watch my beer, }} and he left the tavern.

When he returned some time later (to find his beer miraculously untouched), he was carrying a huge scythe.

"Where did you get that?" someone asked.

{{ Oh, found it lying around in a field. After the farmhands all ran away. But you should have seen the expression on that fake guard's face when I tapped on his shoulder carrying this thing. Right before he fainted, that is. }}

Mort's eyes glowed with evident satisfaction.

This post has been edited by cache22: 15 January 2007 - 01:22 PM

Rapierian briefly considered following the funeral procession to the graveyard just to see people's reactions at seeing him in the city's burial place but decided against it. He doubted it would amuse him enough for him to consider it worth getting up for. He saw Mort with the scythe and was tempted to ask the lich for help in future pranks, but he decided that he could wait on that. Anyway, Mort would probably say no. Instead, he pulled out a few books and scrolls and began to read over them.

Silverfish went to the funeral dressed in his charcoal grey tunic.
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
Jehezekel worked for Pelops, pulling the flax, and laying it out to ret in the dew; in exchange for room and board.

When Shanadar had returned to the Tavern with the rest of the party, he had ignored all else but drowning himself in enough alcohol to make a Titan woozy. Drinking mug after mug of very stiff drink, it did not take long before he was completely numb, both in the mental and physical sense.

The incident with the guards trying to close the establishment roused him from his stupor, although his mind, still-sluggish from the debauchery, did not register the incident until several minutes after its resolution. After inquiring a nearby patron what had happened, seeing as that he had been out of it, and learned that the guards had almost fooled the patrons into abandoning the establishment under the premise of an investigation of the recent murders. Absorbing the information but not immediately comprehending its significance at first, he thoughts began to wander.

I'll have to drop a line to Berrossus, he thought, He should really keep his guards on a shorter leash than that. He knows I'm the authority on this side of town if anything were to happen he should go through me, I--"

Slowly, blurrily, Shanadar's very alcohol-saturated mind began to connect the dots.

He had been away for several days, the guards had initiated their attempted coup on basis of an investigation (which the patrons had initially taken as a legitimate), and many of the patrons were looking unusually somber.

Something bad had happened, worse still that he did not know of it. What was it the patron had said? Murder? Had such an occurrence happened? As a peacekeeper it was his job to know of such things, and more importantly, to prevent such things.

While he had been off keeping an eye on Rapierian and the group, someone or something had committed murder during his absence from his post.

Suddenly alarmingly sober, he asked the patron again who had been murdered.

Indigo and Dheiva, was the reply.

Although he knew nothing of the latter, he certainly knew of the former. Indigo was a martial artist who far outpaced Shanadar in combat; it seemed impossible that he could have perished within such a short span of time.

Deeply distraught, he looked frantically about the room for council. His eyes came to rest on a certain Depressed Lich, whose mood was currently slightly better than depressed.

Mort Shanadar thought, He was here when I left, he likely saw what happened.

He moved over to the imposing undead caster, who was admiring his scythe, or rather the irony that he possessed a scythe, considering his deathly condition.

"Are you going or coming?" He asked Mort, trying to hide his worry, "I can never really tell."

The zombie-like apparition considered the question for a moment, but stalled a moment too long and was cut off before it could reply.

"It does not matter. I apologize if I seem terse, but I fear I may have neglected my duties for too long already. Were you present in tavern during the murder? Did you see it happen?"

{{Yes, I--}}

Shanadar cut him off again.

"Morteous, friend" he paused, his concern readily apparent in his eyes and tone of voice, "I must know everything of it, down to the last iota. [i]Spare me no detail."

{{ Then let me show you, Shanadar. }}

Shanadar's vision wavered. Some patrons faded from sight, others faded in, and some merely vanished from one place only to appear in another. Shanadar realised he wasn't seeing the tavern now, he was seeing the tavern then - through Mort's eyes. He saw two people that he assumed must be Indigo and Dheiva burst through the door. He saw the dark figure fade into being behind the boy, and stab him in the back. He saw the unfortunate Rennai set alight by the broken lamp. He sensed her panic as she careened about the room, sensed the confusion that took hold of most of the patrons. Sensed the purpose in a few good hearts, as the Scribe and a few others tried desperately to act. Sensed the wrenching duality that overlaid the spot on which the ghost frog, Rana, perched - one apparition innocent, motionless; the malicious 'other' pointing Dheiva toward immolation.

He resurfaced in the now, gasping for breath. He took a moment to calm his nerves. "That - that was extraordinary."

Most of the normal patrons started leaving at this point, betweent he funeral, and general fear, it was too much for most. Indeed only the sturdy of heart stayed, guarding their beer. Some were too inebriated to notice the discomforted effects, and one such saat next to Mort mumbling about the general dissatiffaction with the flax harvest,
"so dry, I just want a good piece of meat." Only then did he notice the glowing eyes. quickly he asscessed it was time to stop drinking, but first he ordered another round, afterall- its not everyday a flax farmer goes into the city!

*OoC*
Welcome to the Tavern, cgends.
*BiC*


Rapierian remained in his corner, reading. Suddenly, he started at laughing loudly at something that he had just read. This unnerving and annoying sound was enough to drive several other patrons out of the Tavern. Gradually, his laughter wound down, and he continued his reading, only to start laughing again when he turned the next page.

Sideline paced sombrely towards Cademia's graveyard, lost in introspective contemplation. This wasn't the first such event he'd attended - he'd seen many into their graves, friend and foe alike. Nor was it likely to be the last; the kind of people he tended to get involved with led lives that were far too 'active' for that.

He felt something lightly come to rest on his shoulder, and was startled by a tiny sniffle next to his ear. It surprised him that Shi'nayne had elected to let him carry her, he'd have expected her to ride with Brianna; besides, he hardly knew the phaerie. Still, her presence raised his spirits a little.

He reached the cemetery gate, and held it open for the rest of the small procession to pass through - the Scribe, Brianna, Silverfish, Moonshadow and a few others. In subdued silence, they made their way to the newly placed trio of memorial stones.

[OoC]
I was waiting for Moonshadow to post, but she's dawdling again.

Since I suspect things are being held up waiting on this little sub-story, I thought I'd better move it along - another couple of posts from me and I'll wrap it up. If you want to register your character's presence or do anything else in it, do it soon.
[BiC]

This post has been edited by cache22: 17 January 2007 - 06:26 PM

When harvest ended, Pelops gave Jehezekel fifteen oboloi and a cheese from Alcmena. Jehezekel continued back to Cademia in the company of some local farmers.

Cat was gradually getting more and more unnerved with Rapierian's laughter. She now was convinced he was planning something, and kept glancing sidelong at him.

*OoC* Working on my chron, don't have time for a detailed post as I hope to have it finished and up by tomorrow. *BiC*

Although he had not really known any of the victims, Selax, out of respect for the dead and their deeds in life, followed along with the funeral procession. Like Sideline, this was not his first time for such a thing, nor would it be his last.

The procession reached the graves, and everybody waited for the speaker to speak.

*OoC: I do not dawdle! .... you know what they say.... all good things take time. ^^*

Moonshadow followed the procession quietly, occasionally glancing at the others, not really sure what it was humans did with their dead. When they reached the graveyard they stopped, looking in confusion at the rows of small markers, occasionally decorated with flowers, before her gaze was drawn to the open graves. She blinked, slowly. "They...bury them?" She murmured quietly, drawing a few strange glances. How strange....

As Jehezekel approached the city, he saw a motley crowd going up to a graveyard. He rightly assumed that it was the funeral for those who had died recently in the tavern. He hurried to join them.

He joined them just as they entered the graveyard. There was a speech, and then the burial proper.
As the bodies were lowered into the ground, Jehezekel chanted the burial song of his boyhood:
Once blazing Fire,
Is cold as a stone;
Water no longer
Is flowing around.
The Air has departed,
And with it your soul.
To Earth we commit this-
The body that's left.

*OoC*
One small thing that I just remembered: Toreon can't be buried in the Cademian graveyard because the group stopped by his old home on the way back to Cademia and buried him there (in the last TS post this is mentioned) next to his parents.
*BiC*


Rapierian gathered up his books and scrolls and returned them to wherever he had first produced them from. Then, he took out a few beakers, vials, etc. and began to arrange a small alchemy lab on his table. He began to mix various chemicals and such as a way to pass the time, waiting patiently for the rest to return from the funeral service. While he worked, he began to plan what to do next (i.e. how best annoy everyone else).

[OoC]

Selax, on Jan 18 2007, 09:31 AM, said:

Oops, forgot that. Previous post duly edited, and 'graves' changed to 'memorial stones'.
[BiC]

Sideline contemplated the new, unweathered marker stones in solemn silence. He wasn't sure if the young stranger who'd spoken knew any of the departed, but he approved of the words. He'd kind of hoped that the Scribe would have something eloquent to say, but the old elf remained silent. He realised that everyone must have been waiting on him, since he'd taken it upon himself to organise the event.

He self-consciously cleared his throat. "Well, I don't have a lot to say, really. I only shared part of a couple adventures with Toreon, but he seemed like a good person. Like so many of us, he took risks. I guess he just took one too many. We won't soon forget his bravery; I hope that's a little bit of comfort to his sister. Indigo, I only knew by reputation. He was also a good man, putting his life on the line to protect others." He shook his head, sadly. "He deserved a better fate than to be stabbed in the back. If I can, I intend to find out why it happened, and what was behind it. I think I owe his memory that much, at least. Dheiva, I didn't really know at all. I hoped perhaps Shi'nayne or someone else might have something to say about her."

With that, he lapsed back into melancholy silence.

Silverfish stood near Toreon's marker, impatiently waiting for the last speech. He was not used to standing still for so long, and was pretty sure that sitting would not be acceptable.

*OoC*
I think that we should probably finish up the funeral in the next few posts.
*BiC*


Selax said nothing; he had not known any of the deceased well enough to know what to say. He wondered who was going to be the last speaker and who all was expected to speak.


Rapierian leaned back against the wall of the Tavern, idly wondering when the others would return.

[OoC]

Selax, on Jan 20 2007, 10:09 AM, said:

I agree, but since Shi'Nayne was the only character present that really interacted with Dheiva, we're stuck waiting for Moonshadow to post something. If she doesn't do it soon, I'll just have to try and figure out what Shi would say, myself.
[BiC]

Uzsuy appeared to be doing nothing, though he was thinking.

He decided to drink something to avoid questioning.

*OoC*
Is there a way we could more forward but leave a way for Moonshadow to post what Shi said (e.g. do what Wizard does and backtrack a little in the beginning of her post)?
*BiC*


Rapierian noticed that almost everybody who would want to stop him from doing something fun had gone to the funeral. He smiled, got up, and began to booby trap the Tavern...

Justforkix ducks into the Tavern, and walk over to the bar. As he sits down, the stool creaks under his weight. Thumping the bar, he orders "The strongest thing you have" before looking around the Tavern.

He notices some people sipping their drinks and a mage casting some dark magic near the door. Deciding to ignore the mage, he returns to watching the bartender prepare his drink.

This post has been edited by kickme: 21 January 2007 - 11:54 PM

Mort watched Rapierian's preparations suspiciously. He couldn't figure out what the necromancer was doing, but if he dared harm any of his new friends... Hah! Friends! Another new experience!

Kamille strode confidently into the tavern. staring warily at the barkeep, he said "gimme' a chocolate milk, gangsta-money."
seating himself comfortably on the floor, resting on his knees he sipped delicately on his chocolate milk. he kept his wits about him-- as a samurai, this setting was completely new to him-- he had no idea what to expect.