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

"My will is yours, oh dramatic one." replied the marionette as it rose stiffly to its feet.

Wandering merrily down the road, Beorrn came to the tavern. While in his bulky state he meandered in, only to trip the wire, and get overed in paint, ane be assulted by the smell of fish, such is teh life of a pesant. Beorrn went to the bar ordered a nice liquor-ish, drink while wiping off the sludge, of fish and paint, he noticed one of the invitations and screamed!!! OOOOOh! I am Late! He grabbed the mug and threw back his slchol-ish drink. but his pudgy mout didnt allow for much of the alchol to pass his lips, instead it poured down his chin spilling down his apron. He was the baker, who had the contacts to get the contract for this particular reception. SO in a hurry he grabbed his rolling pin, and waddled to the door (still holding the mug, even ater the barman's protest).

Kamille smiled heroically and his teeth sparkled in the chiché fashion.
well then, my fine wooden friend, what shall we do?

The marionette stared blankly at Kamille, waiting for directions.

kamille jumped to his feet, and strode comically out the door. with the marionette at his heels, he made his way to his horse. he grabbed a short chinese sword, slightly battered and pitted but still sharp as a razor. he handed it to the marionette and grinned.
"lets go get in a few fights, eh?"
and they strode off in to the horizon.

As others were heading out, Beorrn waddled down the road. Not making it very far he instead greeted the people who passd him one after another, realizing they were all from teh tavern he had himself entered not all that long ago, he waved to the passers by. AS he continued he continued to meet more pople as they passed. Greeting them, his nerves grew worse, for this was his first day (how could he be late)! Finally hea sked some more taverners if he could bum a ride?

Spectre watched the crowd of patrons from her seat in the shadowy recess at the end of the bar. No-one had tried to talk to her, which was fine for the moment.
But she really did want something to happen, usual or unusual. The stiff drink she'd had earlier hadn't worked. She'd never really understood how anyone got drunk. Large amounts of alcohol had no effect besides giving her a headache. It must be caused by some weakening of the mind, she'd decided. Well, there was no way it would affect her, if that was the case.
Another one wouldn't hurt, surely?
Catching the attention of the barkeeper, she pushed her mug across the bar.
"Same again."

On the outskirts of Cademia, Rapierian stood smiling.

Quite a few of the heroes and important people were off at Pnyx, but they hadn't left the city unguarded. Indeed, the guards were quite extensive and on alert.

Still, he'd been able to avoid them long enough to reach his current location. Some would call his presence here suicidal and pointless. Perhaps it was, but he was certain he'd manage. Besides, eliminated potential threats and causing havoc seemed to him to be amusing enough that the trip was worthwhile.

The necromancer took a step forward, moving toward the building of the Alraeican Tavern.

*OoC*
I don't prefer to doublepost, but, due to the fact that it's the Tavern and because of the general lack of activity, I see no problem with doing so this time.
*BiC*


Quietly, Rapierian entered the Tavern and sat down at his usual spot. Here, he waited patiently to see how long it would be until someone noticed him.

Although he seemed to be in a dangerous position, he was much more protected than he appeared. In any case, most of the Tavern's usual patrons were off at Pnyx.

Calmly, he pulled out a book and began to read, although he kept an eye on his surroundings.

[OOC]Since cache has not been around, and thusly has held me up in my plans, I'll have to perform a minor god-mode in this instance. [/OOC]

Mort, unresponsive Shanadar's exasperated inquiries, was clearly still shell-shocked from his escapade at Pnyx.

The sight of his friend's state was nearly as troubling to Shanadar as the thought of murderers loose in the Magesterium. Doubly distraught, his attention darted about the room in desperate search of one who could aid him.

Instead, he found more trouble; Rapierian had arrived at the Tavern.

If the accounts Shanadar had overheard from the others before were true, the dark mage had gone rogue on his peers. Having no faith in the pretentious fool from the beginning, Shanadar had no trouble believing their tales. And if his suspicions were correct, Rapierian's bold appearance in the Tavern after his apparent betrayal was almost certainly linked to the assassins amok at Pnyx. After all, how else would he have known that all the others would be off attending a wedding, and what better alibi against the deed then being so distant from the act? Rapierian was a schemer, Shanadar knew the type, his presence here was certainly no whim.

For the interest of the safety of the public, he would have to apprehend the fiend and question him thoroughly. Shanadar had dealt with rouge mages in the past, although admittedly none as powerful as Mr. i'm-distantly-related-to-House-Strymon-and-i'm-really-in-your-face-about-it Rapierian. In fact, it was almost certain that the criminal knew he was being watched.

He would have to be sneaky.

Pretending all was normal, he snatched a stein of alcohol, almost undoubtedly Mort's, from the bar counter, and headed over to Rapierian. He sat across from the mage at his small table, feigning a friendly demeanor, before he spoke.

"I haven't seen you in some time, Mr. Rapierian. Been up to any adventures worth spinning a yarn?"

The statement caught the mage off-guard, if only for a fraction of an instant. Certainly, he would have expected a knife-fight. He never had time to reply to the question, however, as Shanadar abruptly brought the heavy mug crashing down on Rapierian's haughty crown, spilling the beverage in once stalwartly held within about with reckless abandon.

"And now, Mr. Rapierian" Shanadar said, his friendly guise discarded as his tone of voice turned cold as ice, "we are going to have a little chat."

*OoC*
I'm uncertain how to write Shanadar's side of this conversation, so I will not really attempt it at the moment.

~vIsitor~ , if you want me to edit this, please let me know.

I borrowed and modified Therac from one of Wizard's name suggestions by the way. I used "Kythera" to signify the book's age.

The post contains a possible lead-in to next TS.
*BiC*


Rapierian was mildly annoyed: he'd been sitting here quite comfortably and now he had a slight headache and was covered in alcohol (a substance he despised). He took out a potion and smashed it on his head. For a few moments, he was covered with white smoke as the potion evaporated the liquid that he'd been drenched in.

Unfortunately, he still had a headache.

"Mr. Shanadar, your manners are appalling! If you hadn't called me 'mister,' I would have said you had none!" He paused and continued, "Unless, of course, that was some strange new way of greeting people. I hope you mean to have a pleasant chat. If you were to get violent, well, I'd have to protect myself, wouldn't I? Somebody in this building might get injured or killed in such an altercation! In any case, I assure that I am quite safe here."

Having said this, he leaned back and smiled, "Perhaps, you believe those lies the others are spreading about me? Took an artifact to raise an army, right? In truth, I took it to stop the army: none of the others could have used it at all." He gestured around him. "Tell me, where is this army I was supposedly going to sick on Cythera? I suppose you also blame me for my poor uncle's much lamented death: you needn't. Lord Malis has been arrested for hiring an assassin to kill the poor old man."

"Propontis? He's dead?" Shanadar said, horrified at this revelation.

"Indeed, seems someone decided to stab him in the back, horrible tragedy," Rapierian said, somehow managing to keep a straight face.

"Actually, I came here to warn you all."

"Warn us?" Shanadar glared at him. "About some of your mischief perhaps?"

"No, that'd spoil the fun," he said. "Sadly, this will too, but I think it'd be more fun if some of you survived in the long run."

Rapierian began to search around in his robes until he produced a large, dust-covered book. He dropped it on the table, and it landed in a cloud of dust. He leaned forward and blew dust off the cover, revealing the book's title Chronicles of Therac. He began to thumb through the large book.

After a few moments, he reached the page that he sought.

He read:

Xythera is much more than a myth created to scare children or frighten the unwise.

It is a world known to those who see beyond.

It exists alongside Kythera.

It is the Dark Mirror–the home of what are perhaps Kytherans greatest foes: themselves.

There shall come a day when these Worlds collide.

It can't be said how that day will come about, but it shall come when echoes are heard from the past, when the shadows play game, when witches are hunted, when the element's blade is found, when a day of joy turns to one of grief.

Xythera will be all but forgotten by this time, but that will not last long...

Ruin will threaten from within and from beyond in those days.

Will Kythera avoid both or plunge into desolation?

Rapierian closed the book and returned it to its place in his robes. He sat back in his chair, looking at Shanadar and the rest of the room.

"What do you think? A nice little tale, isn't it? Perhaps, it's just the ravings of a madman," he laughed. "Then again, perhaps it is not."

This post has been edited by Selax: 27 May 2007 - 04:30 PM

[OOC] That sounds about right, Selax, although it probably could have been more cynical. No matter, I've got everything covered. Oh, and mind you that Shanadar has a bit of a vendetta to settle with Scourge, although he doesn't know that it is Scourge who is assassinating people.[/OOC]

Shanadar thought for a moment before making his rebuttal. He would have to word his reply to Rapierian carefully, but, fortunately, Shanadar's profession was negotiation. If his tongue failed him, he could always resort to pain.

"It seems to me, Mister Rapierian," he paused for emphasis--he needed all the emphasis he could muster right now, "that you have just implicated yourself of murder and high treason."

"I do not see how, you brute," Rapierian retorted, "Ancient text implicates me of nothing."

Shanadar came close to the dark-hearted fiend, "It is not the alleged prophecy you wave about that concerns me, you dim-witted charlatan, but your mention of your late relative. We have not heard from Pnyx in days, and if there has been a murder then the Magesterium would be in a state of lock-down; no one comes in and no one comes out. Your knowledge of his murder, if he has indeed been murdered, means that you either escaped the lock-down or engineered Propontis' demise."

Rapierian attempted to protest, but was swiftly cut off.

"You could not go to the wedding because of your apparent betrayal, be it imagined or otherwise you would not be welcome there. And I have word from that shambling lich at the counter, Morteous Boneparte, that when he went on a little excursion to Pnyx himself he found assassins milling about, presumably before Propontis was murdered but I am not certain of this. Although I am certain that he is not an assassin himself; when he teleported back to us he had been reduced from his normally melancholy state to catatonic, apparently because he was forced to kill one of the assassins, whom I presume are yours because you could not have been at the wedding to hear about Propontis' murder."

Shanadar let the facts sink in (as well as allow Rapierian to wipe off some spittle from Shanadar's tirade) before continuing.

"Furthermore, I know Malis, and he isn't the type to hire mercenaries, much less assassins. He would have had nothing to gain from murdering Propontis, as House Strymon is essential to House Attis' control of Cademia. You, on the other hand, are related to Propontis--as you mentioned before--which places you another step up the line of succession. On top of that, you are an egotistical jerk with an obsession with the dark arts and over-complicated scheming--another mark against you, as it shows you have the means-to-an-end mindset accommodating the alternative of murder."

Rapierian, attempting to counter the argument, was met with a heavy-handed slap to the side of his face.

"I have evidence here that you have planned Homicide and Regicide, and being the author of such deeds is just as punishable as the commitment of the act. The only reason I haven't run you through is because my combat staff is stuck in a tree miles from here."

Rapierian, deciding he'd had enough of Shanadar's talking, decided to shut up the pretentious windbag for good. Unfortunately for him, the effort found his delicate face planted on the nearby table, and aching in sever places that he didn't know could feel pain.

"We'll be having none of that, Mister Rapierian. I may not have my weapon with me, but I am an enforcer. It is my job to deal with criminals like you. If I so desired, I could easily castrate you with that rusty butter knife over there, and, mind you, I have half a mind to do so." Shanadar placed his boot, with his foot still in it, delicately across Rapierian's back, "Now, we are going to march to Pnyx and clear poor Malis' name, else I will break your spine beyond the help of healing potions. And, just to indulge you, we'll take that damned prophecy with us; the mages at Pnyx will surely make more sense of it than this lot."

*OoC*
If you want me to edit this, please let me know. I'm not quite certain how this scenario would proceed.
*BiC*


Despite his position, Rapierian began to laugh. Quickly, the noise built into his customary mad laughter.

"My dear old boy, you really should recall what I said: I assure that I am quite safe from you or even an attack by everyone in this building." In a break in his laughter, he continued, "Do you think that a simple lock-down could keep me inside Pnyx if I had been there? Don't you think that I could have found means to hear news if I had been there? In any case, I don't need to go there: I have sources. I am not lying when I say Malis has been arrested. You can decide for yourself whether or not he is guilty. Now, as for going to Pnyx, I did warn you that others could get hurt if you started a brawl here..."

Shanadar acted quickly to break the necromancer's back, but something hampered the pressure of his foot. Suddenly, the enforcer remembered Rapierian's tussle with Cat sometime back and that his cloak had given him some kind of phsyical protection. If Shanadar had had a few more seconds, he probably would have been able to succeed anyway, but he suddenly sensed movement behind him. Unable to maintain his position and face the threat, he was forced to jump to the side.

A "shadow" shot past his face and burnt its way through his chair. Other shadows stretched from the walls and began to whirl around the necromancer. Rapierian had rolled over and come quickly to his feet.

Smiling, he slipped a potion out of his sleeve and into his hand.

"Mr. Shanadar, no doubt, the prejudice against me and my supposed treachery on that quest would be enough to have me incarcerated, although I haven't technically broken any serious laws (I think). However, you've given me a headache. Now, I have a way to remedy that, but it involves someone's death," he grinned widely. "So, please feel free to provoke me into killing some bystander!"

[OOC] Ooh! This is starting to get interesting! Sooner or later, though, I need to get Shanadar to Pnyx; with or without Rapierian. [/OOC]

Shanadar weighed his opponent's strengths; he could, perhaps best Rapierian in close combat, so long as he could keep Rapierian's sword sheathed. The mage's magics gave him an edge, but at close range it was mostly a defensive advantage. No, the fink's trump card came from the fact that Rapierian had some sort of potion-of-much-destruction.

He couldn't use his staff, because it was stuck in a tree some distance from the Tavern. He was out of bombs, and using them in the tavern would defeat the purpose anyway. Mêlée combat was clearly useless, and he doubted the butter knife would fare much better. That left but one option.

Pulling out his (somewhat faulty) crossbow, Shanadar aimed at Rapierian's potion.

"One false move, and I will ensure you meet the same fate as you intend for the rest of us." Shanadar threatened, "You've forced my hand, Mr. Rapierian. Stand down."

'Crossie, don't fail me now'

Kamille strode manically across the barren expanse that lay all around him, the soft sound of wood on earth quick on his heels.
he dropped the cigarette he had been smoking and stopped to pull another one from the sleeve pocket of his robe.
he lost himself in thoughts, temporarily, and dazedly organized his options.
he had been feeling curiel's gentle tug on his mind for a few hours now, but he had just figured it was so that Kamille himself wouldn't be unable to make his way back to the tavern with the utmost speed and ease.
however, the tug was becoming increasingly more intense, every now and then Kamille would feel a sharp yank which would draw the breath from his lungs in quiet gasps.
he decided to turn around and head back to the tavern-- there wasn't anything for him around here anyway.

"My, you are rude! First, you attack me without provocation, then you do it again, and now you are threatening me again!" Rapierian said, shaking his head. "Let me ask you: would you be carrying around a potion, threatening to use it without first having made sure you were protected against whatever was in it? Of course, I may be bluffing...why not try?"

Around him, the "shadows" disappeared, being too much of a drain to keep around with no reason.

"I came here to have a civil conversation. If you are not capable of that, perhaps I should just leave..." the necromancer looked around. "Whatever you do, you will cause someone to get injured, you know, but that's your problem, I guess."

He laughed again.

[OoC:] if you don't want me to get involved, Selax, ~vIsitor~, just let me know i'll edit. [BiC]

hearing the arguement swell in power and anger, Curiel and Kristeva unwound and stood straight. Kristeva held her Nagemaki in a relaxed lefty two-handed grip, her arms relaxed, her eyes starting to glow with a cruel flame. Curiel tugged his sword loose from the heavy scabbard and held it deftly in his right hand, the blade coming down diagnally to rest hovering above the ground between his feet.
Kristeva sighed and focused, a light breeze seemed to come from her torso and her blade began to shine. the faint, faint smell of burning flesh and deep red blood reached Curiel's nostrils, and he grinned childishly.
Curiel threw his shining silver blade over his shoulder and strode confidently over to the pair of odd-looking, shadowless men and grinned.
"what seems to be the problem, fellas?"

Spectre looked on with interest, her drink forgotten. How nice it was to not have to go in and sort it out! she thought, watching the entertainment. Although... She sighed. Damn you, conscience. Oh well. I suppose I can stand in just before someone gets killed. Would that be all right? she asked herself.

*OoC* Hooray, I'm back! Yay! *BiC*

Rapierian turned to Curiel.

"Kind sir, I came here for a quiet evening and perhaps a pleasant talk, and this man has rudely insulted and attacked me without provocation! Now, he's threatening the rest of this Tavern's patrons. Honestly, I think that he is a mad man and should be locked up before he can harm anyone else or himself."

[OOC] Sorry for the delay. I hope I'm accurately capturing Rapierian's personality, Selax.[/OOC]
-----

Shanadar did not take long to realize that Rapierian was trying to subvert the bar patrons against him.

"It is I who shall do the locking, Mr. Rapierian" Shanadar countered, "For I am the arm of the law in this city."

"Humph, figures that a dim-witted ape like you is in charge of law enforcement" Rapierian retorted icily, "But, then again, aren't the Mages supposed to settle disputes?"

"Clearly you have been insulated by niceties for far too long, Mr. Rapierian." Shanadar goaded, "The Mages can only handle disputes brought to them, and who is left to keep criminals from running the city?"

"Criminals like you?" Rapierian spat.

"No, Mr. Rapierian. Criminals like you." Shanadar responded flatly, "I have maintained a relative peace in this city for years, Mr. Rapierian. Why do you think the bandits only come out at night? Did you think they were afraid of a little sunlight?"

"That does not change that you attacked me unprovoked, Shanadar." Rapierian spat back.

"It is clear from recent events that you are a treat to the citizens of this city. No, by Alaric, you are a threat to the inhabitants of the entire island." Shanadar accused, "And by resisting arrest, you are impeding me in my duties as an Enforcer. I have every right to apprehend you and bring you to the Mage's Justice."

"The Mage's Justice?!" Rapierian laughed, "I thought you said you'd be taking me to Pnyx?"

"With all the Kesh floating about these days, I have to make sure you've off the vile stuff" Shanadar explained mechanically, "I get to parade you around for a few days until it can be assured that you don't have any spell-inhibiting substances in your system. And, besides, where better to have the mages judge you than the Magesterium."

"That both assuming that I have done something wrong" Rapierian defended, "And that you can actually arrest me, you inept pig-faced buffoon."

OoC:
"A treat to the citizens", eh? ^_~
Kesh is generally considered to nullify any spell-casting abilities in the user.
BiC:

Kamille and the marionette entered the city like a wind, and few were the ruffians who knew the moment of their passing. But their macabre sport was put aside when they reached the door of the ominously quiet Tavern.

Kamille appeared in the doorwar, the wind blowing his hair and his loose clothing out in front of him in a typical dramatic manner. the Marrionette burst through the door from behind Kamille clopping around and waving a short chinese sword in a manic way.
Kamille slowly looked around and reviewed the situation, relaxed now that the tug on his conscience had since faded.
he noted Curiel's look and was wary, he knew that when curiel got heated, it was not going to be a good day.
He glanced over at Kristeva's stony gaze and smiled inwardly. she had never been able to control her spirit energy at all, which was all the more funny, being as powerful as she was.
his left hand went thoughtlessly to the worn spot on the sheath below the hilt, and his right hand hovered around his stomach, within close reach of the handle of the sword.
"fellas?" he said to the arguing men,
"i don't think you want to be startin' fights 'round here."

This post has been edited by TMBassassin: 06 June 2007 - 11:08 AM

*OoC*
Well, Rapierian might have tried to go on painting himself as the victimized party longer, but it's not really important. In any case, he's subject to mood swings (a device I created to explain incidents where I accidentally write him out of character myself).
*BiC*


"I quite agree!" Rapierian responded. "It's this cantankerous old fellow here who is trying to start a brawl and risk innocent lives needlessly! If he's the 'arm of the law' here, it's no wonder that this city is rife with crime." The necromancer laughed again. "As I said, he's quite mad." He turned back to Shanadar. "For your information, 'sir,' the only kesh addict in this room that I am aware of is you."

[OoC] This is going on way to long; we practically are the Tavern at this point. We had better bring this to a resolution, so I'm going to take the initiative. I'll start the fight, you decide the outcome (preferably with the Tavern intact and Rapierian nowhere to be found). Remember, Shanadar's crossbow is highly faulty; use that to your advantage. [/OoC]

If eyes could shoot literal daggers, Rapierian would be well dead by now. Unfortunately for Shanadar, they can not, and Rapierian continued to stand defiantly against his accusatory gaze.

"Do you have any idea what a hornets nest this hell-hole was before I too the job, Mr. Rapierian?" Shanadar returned harshly, "Can your insolent, scheming mind even begin to comprehend what I, as a single man, have done just to maintain the status quo?"

Rapierian gave answer in his typical manner, "Clearly your 'efforts' were wast--"

"I thought not!" the Enforcer interrupted with a scowl.

"Are you quite done?" Rapierian queried in a mildly annoyed tone, "I'm sure I've got your spittle on me from these endless tirades."

Shanadar ignored the Necromancer's sarcasm, "You dare to say that my actions are needless, when your very existance is an intolerable threat."

"I've had enough of your insults, fool" Rapierian shouted as he finally began to lose his cool, "Just shut up already!"

Stalwart as ever, Shanadar continued, "And you dare to accuse me of being a user of illegal narcotics when you are the one in possession of unidentified, and quite probable dangerous, substances" he pointed at Rapierian's potion-wielding hand, "Without a license, no less."

The Dark Mage brought up his arm to throw the potion, and, in response Shandar let loose a bolt from his crossbow.

*OoC* I hope you don't mind... *BiC*

STOP.
The crossbow bolt halted mid-flight as if it had been nailed in the air, as did the potion.
All eyes turned to Spectre, who hadn't moved from her seat in the corner of the bar.
"If you want to ...ah... 'lock up' Rapierian here," she continued in a more normal voice, "It would probably be a good idea not to try to kill him first."
She slipped off her stool and delicately picked her way over to the frozen tableau.
"Well?" she said.
What she hadn't noticed yet was the fact that the potion was slowly slipping towards the wooden floor of the tavern.
Rapierian searched for a weakness in the spell holding everyone in the tavern, and Spectre had to use more of her magic to prevent him from finding one. The crossbow bolt and the potion resumed their interrupted journeys, one whiffling past Rapierian's ear to hit the wall behind the bar, the other landing on the ground in the centre of the immobile fight.
A huge cloud of smoke filled the room, setting everyone coughing.