Joined: 21 Jan 2004
Location: Never Never Land
|Posted: Fri Dec 16, 2005 11:30 am Post subject: An Ansteorran Night
|Tekarin Hertzold almost shoves Rakuro over into the next seat as soon as the Drow is gone. As soon as she's settled in her seat she's happy again.
Devon Neilan appears in the room within a swirling sphere of white light! Rather flashy, if I don't say so myself.
Tomeais Inkwell scoots toward a steat... but it thwarted by the flash of gazelle! He meeps and holds his wound, looking pale and well... surprised.
Rakuro is psychic that way, and the shove was much less painful as a result. The wolfkin merely smirks at this, peering down into his empty mug for a brief moment before--Devon appears! The wolfkin cringes, his hackles rising even as he topples off his chair and away from the paladin. The mug clattering across the floor, the lanky creature manages a rather complicated maneuver on all fours before straightening up against the wall, emitting a quiet hiss in the direction of the gazelle.
Tekarin Hertzold takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, then exhales with a puff and stares at the Gazelle.. She was almost certain she'd met him before. Yes, yes she remembers now. "Why do you people insist on just poppin' in here and scarin' the livin' daylights outta' everyone!?" Tek was such a nice, well spoken woman.
Isilde barely glances up from her writing at mention of Tom's name. "Evening, Mister Tomeais. Feeling better I trust?" she muses. "Sorry not to stop and chat more, but I'm up to my ears in orders ever since that odd femme from Tumbledown dropped two into my lap."
Morgan Le'fae smiles and turns back to his goods and everyone else in the tavern, arms sliding away from the table to reveal the oddities and strange things he had produced from his pockets, all of wich remaining on thier appropriate lether circles, all waiting to be tied back and placed safely within his seemingly endless pockets. "Very low prices today... and yes, we have an excess of most herbs and spices, all can be preground... for a minor fee of course." he says confidently, however the last part of his speach quieter than the rest, as if avoiding notice.
Maura Kaie blinks and looks over her shoulder then scoots over a bit "G'eve... and here Tom, you can sit here if you like, I won't bite... right now..." she smirks a little bit and turns her attention back to the one on the other side of the table, giving a little chuckle.
Devon Neilan clears his throat slightly, raising a hand and running it along one of his antlers for a brief moment before glancing around with a rather uniimpressed expression on his face. He looks over toward Rakuro and raises an eyebrow slightly, speaking through a very London-ish accent, "Rather alright there?" To Tekarin, he merely smirks lightly and sweeps a hand in front of his waist grandiosely before uprighting himself, "But of course, madam."
Tomeais Inkwell chuckles and slowly settles into the seat Maura has offered him. "Thank you. And I don't think I could do with a bite right now, so warn me if you feel.... peekish so I might scamper away in time." He looks up to Tek, Shayde and Isilde, "now... in all that, I forgot what you have asked me."
Shayde En'Kiar raises a brow. "Yer back from th'dead. Way miss Orhi was goin' on one'd think y'were a corpse an' six feet under already."
Rakuro's eyes narrow at the creature and he casually slumps down against the wall, drawing his knees up to his chest and continuing to glare at the paladin over the top of them. His ears flatten back against his skull, and he really, really seems to be quite unhappy about this new development.
Tekarin Hertzold grumbles to herself. What a pompous.. jerk! Pop in and scare everone and then mess around with her. She didn't even know him! And on top of that...! Well she couldn't think of anything to go on top of that but she was sure there was something else she could be pissed about! "Well it about got yer' head knocked off." And indeed if her hammer's leather loop hadn't got caught on sash, she would have.
Maura Kaie chuckles at Tom and gives a bit of a nod, she doesn't know him that well but he's just earned her interest and a touch of like from her, she brushes a stray bit of hair out of her face "Ah, yur recovering from soemthing already Tom, I'd nah bite ye. Nah without a reason." she smirks more, he had a good sense of humor
Tekarin Hertzold turns her head and looks over to Mr. Rakuro. "Uh, sir.. What's up?" Should she not trust Devon for some reason? Some reason other than the pleasure he seemed to derive from scaring her!
Tomeais Inkwell chuckles deeply and rubs his shoulder, "Thank you miss. I'll try not to provoke you." He looks up at Shayde and the rest. "She was nearly right. Very nearly right. I was inches from my life. And, my poor dear, she could not understand why I wouldn't wake." He grins, "Isilde have you not told them?"
Rakuro waves a paw dismissively at Tekarin and slumps further against the wall, as if such a thing were possible. And, frighteningly, it seems to be so. He's obviously a rather flexible creature too. He continues to peer hatefully at the gazelle, though, and mutters something under his breath about 'holy'
Tekarin Hertzold leans back as far as she can against the bar to get a look at Isilde questioningly. She was pretty sure she'd been filled in but was curious now as to why she hadn't been filled in. Of course she also kept a nervous eye on the Gazelle fellow. Rakuro seemed to have no love for him and so far that had been a good indicator of whom not to trust.
Devon Neilan chuckles slightly, and simply smiles handsomely at Tekarin, his sky blue eyes twinkling like stars, "I rather don't think so, madam. My apologies for all of the fuss about." He inclines his head as he says this. The well-armored gazelle takes a moment to look back at Rakuro, shaking his head ever so slightly in a 'tut-tut' manner.
Isilde pauses in her writing to look back to the merchant. "Cna I have a look at the pigments then? Afraid I can't leave the work at the moment. As for you, Mister Tomeais....well, I've made mention that you were doing better, I think....but I've been so flat out busy since I got back I've not had much chance to talk to anyone."
Tekarin Hertzold waves a hand. "Then don't worry about it I guess. Just got a little worked up is all." She settles back into her chair comfortably.
Tomeais Inkwell hrms loudly, rubbing his wound obsessively. He stares off into his thoughts for a bit.
Maura Kaie chuckles and smirks, luckily she's in a good mood tonight, lets hope it stays that way for once. "Well, tis good to see you are not as dead as all thought Tom." she'd heard bits and pieces of him being dead and such and got the impression that, in her book at least, he didn't deserve to die. She finally takes notice of the various pigments and looks at them with a bit more interest, seeing if he has any of the ones she's starting to run low on or that she doesn't have.
Rakuro clenches one paw into a tight fist, his right paw, in fact, showing clearly the rather unique scar upon the back. A thaumaturgic triangle, for those who know what that is. A triangle in a circle, for those who don't . His jaw clenches tighter, and with a quiet growl he murmers, "Keep your business your own and leave your damnably-got magic out of this place, paladin." He manages to practically spit the last word, as though it were a vile curse.
Shayde En'Kiar nods. "Aye, good t'see y'en't gone. Welcome back an' suchlike." with that she's back into her book, ignoring everything else. Bookworm syndrome.
Morgan Le'fae nods happily and reaches into his thick coat, digging around for a moment he produces a string of nearly thirty small leathers tied shut with red string, and attached together by a matching string stitched to the bottoms. "Here is a small sample of our colours and textures, mainly artisan quality, however.... we do have a small ammount of scientific grade pigment..." he trails off and holds the string of small pouches out, waiting for her to come to him. With his other hand he would stash away a few of the green bags on the table and replace them with new once, filled with glittering and generaly impulse things, for the most part.
Maura Kaie's ears perk at the mention of artisan quality, that's certainly what she's interested in. She leans forward a bit resting her elbows on the table to get a better look for when he decides to show the pigments
Tomeais Inkwell finally tears himself from his thoughts and looks at the table full of pigments and such. "Do... you find much market for your wares as a traveler? I would think it would be easier to stay within a town where scribes and the like are usually rooted to their books."
Steele Glyph: A light blue feline femme slips into the tavern, hoping she is unnoticed. But, as she heads for one of the furs by the fire, she trips and hits the wooden floor with a startled yelp, causing her to drop the small bag she had been holding. And from that bag spilled an assortment of gems and jewelry. Yep. Very sneaky.
Tekarin Hertzold senses a bit of.. tension. She sits forward a bit so that she's somewhat between Devon and Rakuro. If Rakuro was worried about this guy, he was obviously at least as strong as Kuro was.. And that probably meant if they got in a fight there would be pleanty of collateral damage.
Devon Neilan sighs a bit, and simply shakes his head again, "Well, I don't suppose I can be loved by all, now. And as it is, sir, I don't believe I've pried into your business. I simply asked if you were alright. You look as if you'd seen a Heretic, just now." The gazelle yawns briefly and looks back toward Rakuro, placing a hand upon one hip, "And when last I looked, magic was rather the simplest and most effective form of travel. If you've a problem with my use of it, I'm sure the Order would be happy to hear your complaint." He hmph's slightly... always some unfortunate dissident that wants to tarnish the light of the Primes. With that, he sighs and takes a seat, a cloven hoof 'clacking' against the floorboards for a moment as he appears to think on something.
Maura Kaie blinks at the stumbling femme and picks up the ones that end up near her, she holds them towards the femme "You dropped these Miss." no, she's got no intention of claiming any of them, they aren't her's and she's not got a need for them.
Rakuro's eyes seem to light up at this thought. Oh. The Order would be happy to hear his complaint, eh? The wolfkin 'rolls' forward onto his feet, straightening up slowly like a corpse rising from the grave. Only slightly less decomposed, and with significantly more fur. And a pulse. Most of the time. "Have I a problem with your use of it? I have a problem with the existance of it, and you. You sully the very air of this place with your presence, you lack-minded fanatic. Go pray to your gods in your holy places and keep your aura there, where it belongs."
Morgan Le'fae glances at the spilled jems and jewelry that scatters across the floor, however he had no interest, all his wares were accounted for, this he could do by eye years of experience serving him well. He does however move his opened bags of relics and somewhat useless things over as to keep it out of this thief's reach.
Tekarin Hertzold clears her throat and sits back against the bar, looking back and forth between Rakuro and Devon. She was stuck in the middle of this potential fight so she decides to interject and raises her hands. "How 'bout we uh.. not get into a fight in here huh?"
Tomeais Inkwell hrms at not being answered. And resumes thinking and holding his wounded arm.
Rakuro snorts derisively and adds almost immediately after Tekarin's comment, "Yes! Let's not fight, just as your Primes never fought for us."
Maura Kaie nods towards Morgan "You gonna show those pigments Sir?" she leans across the table a little bit more
Steele Glyph: Steele stares at the friendly feline, a little suprised that she hadn't decided to keep the jewels. "Um....Thank you." She mumbles as she quickly snatches back her ill-gotten goods and scoops up the other jewelry off the floor.
Isilde makes a small noise in the back of her throat and continues her writing, clearly to busy in what she's doing to break off to look at some raw pigments that might or might not be worth her while, leaving all her work supplies out all over the bar. She glances toward the paladin and Rakuro, only vaguely aware of the tension there, so absorbed in her own business that she's not nearly so alert as she normally would be to such social frictions.
Maura Kaie nods to the femme as she takes back the gems and such, her attention more upon Morgan at the moment
Devon Neilan's face goes stern as he very simply turns and casts a cold, hard stare toward Rakuro, "I know not what your ordeal with the Primes is, good sir, but I have no quarrel with you, and I must ask you to refrain from insulting me. You don't know me, neither do you know my faith. You only know what what you choose to. Do be so kind as to do the rest of the world a favor by thinking of someone other than yourself, for once. Perhaps then you would understand why I chose to serve the cause of the Primes, and not my own." He snorts, and replies to Tekarin, though his gaze remains locked onto the wolfkin, "Please, madam, I have no intention of fighting anyone, least of all him."
Morgan Le'fae eyes the one who sits before him for a long moment before clearing his through, and placing both hands on the table before him. "Well yes.. But think of it this way, Say 3 scribes here and 3 in every town on the sea's edge, If I visit all of them they will buy in surplus.. who knows when Il be back?" he says to the man, his voice less buisinessy as it was while he was announcing his wares. He looks up at the fighting men now and scowls for a moment. "Good sirs... do not fight, come buy something instead, much better use of money than paying fines for disrupting the peace... Im sure your bordering on several now..."
Steele Glyph: Now that her jewels were 'safe', Steele had the oppritunity to listen in to the other conversations going on. The most interesting one was between two guys that looked pretty angry, but there also was a buisness deal going on, and that meant money was being held out in the open. Steele smirked greedily as she scooted over to the bar, being sure to keep her hands out of site under her cape.
Tomeais Inkwell is ripped from this thoughts again and smiles to the man. "I would have to say that is a good argument, if your travel expenses don't exceed your profits." He looks over the man a bit and raises his ears, "And... on that note... will you show me something... in the blackest pigment you have... I have seemed... to run out."
Maura Kaie gives a bit of a sigh, she's about to give up on seeing those pigments. She chuckles at Morgan's explination to Tom, smirking. Perhaps that was how some purchased things, but not her. No, she's found several reliable suppliers that are stationary. She only buys from a traveler when they have something that her usual ones don't carry, or she's ultra low on something and not near where she normally goes.
Rakuro emits a short, barking laugh. A literal 'HA!'. "You serve the Primes, and thus your quarrel is with me." He shoots a brief glare at the peddler at the center table and waves a paw, sharply, dismissively, "And you, sir, have no say in the matter." He quickly whirls back on the paladin, continuing his rant, voice growing ever so slightly louder as he goes along. "Because I am among those who your gods deserted. Where were they when the Undead marched? Where were they when the Kebeyan Republic destroyed the Freelands? Where were your gods when Erisvan came out from her mountain and threw Himo into the sea?!" He literally shouts at the paladin now, "Tell me, Paladin! Let me hear from your mouth so dedicated to the holy service of your dead masters. Where?"
Tekarin Hertzold is starting to become agitated again, more angry really and she isn't sure what at. She was probably just getting upset because Rakuro and this Devon fellow were at odds. Of course she didn't know that all she knew was that she was starting to get angry and all of Rakuro's yelling was bothering her ears which were now flattened against her head.
Isilde is jarred from her concentration by Rakuro's shouting....especially _that_ name. Erisvan? _WHERE_? She glances about nervously, eyes finding their way back to Rakuro. Miraculously, she's managed to near jump out of her seat without spattering ink all over the page she's been working on.
Morgan Le'fae places a paw on the now coiled string of small leathers and slowly pushes it to Maura, a small move across the table leaving them to rest just before her. "Ah yes, these are a small selection of my artisans quality pigments and pastels, sorry for the wait." he makes a small motion, looking much like a shrug however it combined a wave of the hands as if to indicate the loudness of the others. "Ah.. my darkest pigments run a fine price with the medical community, a gent such as yourself can afford such with ease yes?" he asks him, all the while producing a meager three small bags and placing them before him, inside would be three very dark shades, the first an almost reflective and dark ink coloured black, the second a very flat and dull black, the third however would pain the eyes, as if looking at nothing.
Steele Glyph: Steele took that moment, amidst all the shouting, to quickly snatch a few things from the squirrel who was writing something on the bar.
Tomeais Inkwell grins a bit, "what makes you assume I'm a gent... or that I could afford to be one?" Even so, he reaches out to inspect the pigments more closely while Maura gets in her questions and such.
Maura Kaie was just about to settle into one of her drawings when he pushes over the bags, giving him a nod as she starts to look through them, she opens one bag at a time to inspect the pigment then closes it before going on to the next, very careful not to accidentally mix them or anything. She glances briefly over at the dark pigments, giving a little purrr at the first two but having no use for the third, though she turns her attention back to the artisan ones she's looking over, aside from the purr she keeps her opinion of the various pigments to herself, making a mental note of the few that catch her attention.
Devon Neilan pushes up from his seat and slams a hoof on the floor with a loud 'CLAUCK', "How dare you! The Primes dessert no one! The only one who has desserted anything is you! You desserted them! How dare you speak as if they owe you something! You exist because they gave you the breath in your lungs this very morning. What you speak of are not the Primes, good sir! What you speak of are fake images. Images of our holy creators doing nothing but what you desire! No answer I give could be understood by you, friend. Your rejection of the Primes is complete and utter, and for that I am sorry. And no creature as selfish as you could ever understand that the Primes work according to their terms, not yours, and you've no one to thank but yourself for any so-called abandonment." He shakes his head in utter disgust.
Isilde blinks as she catches a furtive movement from the corner of her eye, saying pleasantly "That hand gets any closer to my work and I'll light your tail on fire."
Morgan Le'fae smiles as his wares are examined however as soon as the yelling begins, his leather bags nearly seem to be tying themselves as he hastily replaces them within his coat, the last thing he needed was the table getting flipped and destroying his precious trinkets. He would however leave the pigments with thoes who appreaised them, not wishing to offend the potential customers. He would grip the hilt of his boarding cutlast tightly however, feeling slightly thretened. "Ah yes... Hmm..." he says not really knowing what to say at that point. "Very fine pigments, highes quality." he finaly mutters, seeming almost programmed.
Tekarin Hertzold is oblivious as to what's going on in the rest of the tavern, she's keeping her attention on Devon and Rakuro, ready to jump up between the two of them if things get out of hand.
Steele Glyph: Steele squeaks nervously and scoots slightly away. "I wasn't planning on taking anything you were using at the moment..." She mumbles.
Tomeais Inkwell was happily enjoying the wares, but is no longer due to a very nervous peddler. He hmms loudly and taps his claws on the table top. "well... when things have settled down in here, perhaps we could come to some trade agreement...", he says to Morgan quietly. He turns slowly to look at the fight that may break out any second here.
Rakuro s eyes flare, his ears perking upright at these counter-attacks. Yes, they were only verbal, but still. The wolfkin moves around the chairs to face the gazelle more fully. "I am the one who has abandoned the Primes? They owed me nothing, paladin. But they allowed thousands.. millions of people, who were no doubt praying as fervently as you and your holy organization, for salvation. I have lost much, paladin.. but if your Primes are not dead, tell me why they allowed the genocide of Sargothas. Tell me why the warriors of Grimhold fight every day against the risen corpses of their newly-dead comrades! Tell me where your gods were when the homelands of millions of innocent, even devout, creatures of all races were destroyed by the black magic of the Heretics. You claim peace and joy from behind your swords and proudly hold your shields aloft for the greater good.. yet still your gods bring nothing."
Maura Kaie nods slightly, she found half a dozen she doesn't haven and/or is in need of "Aye." for a few she would disagree but there's really no point in agravating the man. She points out the pouches that contain the ones she's interested in, mostly the rarer, more expensive ones. Colors that are hard to come by. "I'll take these colors here." she pushes the pouches back over to Morgan then nods towards the dark ones, the shiny and flat. "And those too."
Isilde barely spares the would-be thief a vague hint of glare as she starts gathering up her supplies, still warily paying attention to growing argument between Rakuro and Devon. Normally her sympathies would be entirely with Mister Rakuro, but this is a Paladin for Prime's sake; Even in her home across the sea they are talked of as a force for good in the land. Friend or servant of the Primes......she's torn on who to support.
Tekarin Hertzold also thinks Rakuro is being irrational, or at least she would if she didn't have that gleam in her eye that she got every time she was about to throw herself into battle. And this looked like it was gonna be a fight.. Oh yes... She already had one arm back and her hand around her hammer, ready to fling it out and jump in on... Well, on nobodies side really.
Steele Glyph: Steele frowned. That attempt to get a little extra stuff to sell had failed. She needed to find someone who was more.....Destracted. Like one of those two angry guys. She sized up the two equines, her mind automaticlly attaching a worth to each. She would go after the one who was worth more. But first, she had to wait for the right moment.
Tomeais Inkwell Tucks his bad arm back into the robe and smiles softly. He takes out his hair brush and begins to brush out his long white hair while he had the chance. For being a male, he sure did love his hair so.
Morgan Le'fae grins to himself as she announces her purchase, he seems to instantly forget the massive argument going on so very close to himself, the smell of money earned seems to have caught him. He produces a large piece of parchment, and a quil, he dips the quil in a small vial of normal ink and begins writing down her purchase, making a list and pricing each item, a final total at the bottom of the page. He then flips the parchment and draws a strange symbol on it, signing it in several places. He places it infront of her, it becomes obvious that the large note is written in a different and very flowy language. "Ah yes, take this to pire 6 and give it to my ships crew, they will provide you with what you wish and charge accordingly, Ye may keep the sample as well, such a large purchase is worthy of nothing less." he says bowing slightly.
Devon Neilan bears his teeth slightly, and simply shakes his head, the expression of anger fading slightly, his voice levelling out smoothly, though still sounding sternly and strongly, "They were waiting for you to be faithful, for us all to be. You rather think because you cannot see for your own eyes what the Primes are doing that they do nothing, indeed. But you are very wrong, friend. Very wrong. And I do say, now, good sir, that you will never see, or understand how the Primes move so long as you curse them so openly. You've lost something, you've lost much, to be sure, as have we all in these most recent and terrifying years. You will do no one well to blame the Primes for this." He shifts his weight a bit, "What are you, then, friend? A revolutionary? One as so-enlightened? No, you are nothing of the sort, indeed. It saddens me that you understand so little."
Tomeais Inkwell hrms quietly finding debate boring when spoken. When Maura makes her purchase he inquires, "And... how much would you ask for the deepest pigment you produced for me?"
Maura Kaie chuckles softly and waves away the samples though she takes the paper with a nod, looking over the list and the prices, tail flicking a bit behind her. She's not been oblivious to the yelling match but hasn't taken an interest in it for reasons of her own. Though, she tends towards siding with Rakuro, again, reasons of her own. "Thank you Sir, but you'll need the samples to show others." she smiles the first real smile she's given anyone this night, not that she's been in a bad mood at all. Though Devon is starting to irk her the business has distracted her nicely, hopefully the argument will end before she loses her distraction and gives it more attention. She offers her paw to Morgan "I'm Maura by the way."
Rakuro growls faintly, and even backs away a touch himself. A small amount of the tenseness goes out of him, and he manages a slightly more level tone of voice. "They are not waiting for anything. They are powerless in the pattern of the Weave. Fah! You, with your whole life devoted to a cause that's forced into strength and battered into weakness by a never-ending warp of history. No, paladin. I am not a revolutionary, and I do not claim myself as so-enlightened. I am an old furre who has seen everything in his life destroyed while those who bear the colors of the Primes, shouting the names of those on high for Glory and Honor, have sat by and twiddled their swords in defeat. It is not time, they cry. The Primes' Will must be done on Feanor, they say. All trials lead to strength, they teach. And they sit by." The wolfkin narrows his eyes and spits at the paladin. "Fah! Go on your way, bastard of light. Serve your gods and keep them in your pocket. They do no good but to keep you warm at night. Safe and secure in the knowledge that your higher power is keeping you safe."
Morgan Le'fae looks up at hims and smiles as he asks this question and looks up as if doing a small calculation in his head beofer looking back to him, his grind widening slightly "Thirty six an ounce good sir.." he says, gaze sliding to Maura quickly, his own hand embracing her tenderly and he would lean foreward and kiss her knuckle gnetly. "I am known as Morgan in many parts.." he would say eyes curving up in a gensture of happiness. He then pulls another strand of pouches from inside his coat to show her, then slides them away with a wink.
Tomeais Inkwell grins happily to such such a gentleman, hardly ever see that here. He waits for Morgan and Maura to finish their conversation before asking anymore questions.
Maura Kaie quirks her brow curiously at the pouches he just showed her, thinking perhaps they need to find a quieter place to chat, she inclines her head slightly, settling paws into her lap and letting him finish his business with Tom. Just as gentlemen seem rare around her, she seems one of the few femmes able to gracefully handle such a thing as a kiss to her paw rather than a shake. She orders a cup of tea to sip at while she waits. "Perhaps when you are done with your business here we could have a chat elsewhere Morgan." she nods to Tom then sips at her tea, trying to ignore the continued debate for her own sake and sanity.
Steele Glyph: Steele had waited long enough. This time was as good as any. She sidled over to Rakuro, looking slightly nervous. "Um.....Sir? Must you argue with that fool? We all know the gods left us long ago. That foolish man, clinging desperately to his false beliefs. He does not deserve your anger. Come and sit at the bar. Let the pitiful Paladin be. He will learn eventually." She states, hoping that he wouldn't turn his anger on her.
Isilde finishes tucking the last of her gear and writings into the pack at her feet, turning to look once more to Rakuro and the unknown paladin. Sighing heavily, she shoulders her pack and collects her small quarterstaff before moving down the bar _toward_ the argument.
Kita Namara notes, for all around, that Rakuro is a freaking nutcase. The Primes exist, and all furres have this realization instinctually born into them. There's literally no question about it. There are Primes, they exist, and they are powerful. Whether you like them or not...
Tekarin Hertzold casts a gaze to Steele that essentially reads, "Shut up if you don't wanna get killed!" Well, that's what she tries to get across anyway, a simple look can't actually say that many words. Regardless she keeps her attention still mostly on Rakuro and Devon, ready to step in and save the day! Or get kilt'.
Rakuro fully agrees.
Tomeais Inkwell feels stupid having to ask this question but does anyway, "Thirty six of what type of coin, sir?"
Devon Neilan's expression goes stern again, a fire flaring in his eyes as he moves much swifter than quite normally would, rushing at Rakuro, he throws his right arm up horizontally across his chest and grabs hold of his shirt pushes forward with a good portion of his strength behind it and slams the wolfkin against the wall, quite likely cracking the window. He holds here stead fast, staring with agonizingly cool eyes into Rakuro's line of sight, "Done nothing? Twiddled our swords, have we?! I will tell you now, sir, that my brethren has done quite the opposite of nothing! I have faught, sir, I have fought the darkest evils in these recent wars from the highest plain to the coldest depths of this good earth! I have watched my brothers and sisters die for the sake of a selfish world who does little more than reject them! Do as you will in your beliefs, sir, but I will not stand and allow you to insult their memory in front of me..." He seethes a bit and gradually loosens his grip, stepping away from Rakuro, his glare softening a bit.
Morgan Le'fae smiles as softly lets go of her paw, looking back to Tomeais he continues to smile, his buisiness like grin finding no home this time. He chuckles and takes the small pouches back from him, producing one a large, filled with the same painfully dark pigment and places it before him, scrawling a similar note and handing it to him "Ah you seem a trustable fellow, Il give this to ya, payment pending. I trust you will see to it that your tab gets paid... Worry not we will have a discussion about that later, regardless" he says with a slight wink. "Oh yes, how could I forget, Thirty six tenslips, as they call it at sea, just times your local gold pieces by ten and your set.. Now Mlady where shall we wander?"
Tekarin Hertzold is up as quickly as Devon moves forward, her hammer drawn. She was prepared to strike the Gazelle in the back of the head but stays her hand. He was... Or at least it sounded very much to be the case.. That he was correct and had every right to throw Rakuro against the wall. If she were in his place she'd have probably done the same thing (and been killed for it). She lowers her hammer and waits for someone's next move. She was up and couldn't sit back down now, but she didn't have a side to jump in on!
Isilde is on her feet the moment Devon surges forward, her staff raised and her fur blossoming out with static as she reaches for the weave. Servant of the Primes or no, you don't raise hand to those Isilde cares about without angering the little squirrel. And yes, those are little sparks dancing between her whiskers.
Maura Kaie is starting to seeth at Devon, turning a glare on the Paladin, luckily Morgan catches her attention, she sets down her hardly touched tea as she gathers up her things "Anywhere that is away from here Sir." casting another glare and a small snarl towards the Paladin, she gets up and heads out of the tavern, waiting just outside the door for Morgan, afraid that if she remains in the tavern long enough even to wait for him she'll do something she may regret.
Steele Glyph: Steele looks a little suprised at Devon's sudden outburst, but is happy he isn't mad at her. [Yet.] She waited until the horse had let Rakuro go, then attempted to pull him away toward the bar. "C'mon....Let's go have a seat."
Tomeais Inkwell nods and takes the pigments, placing them inside his robes. He smiles broadly, like a mad man would, "Thank you, sir. And I'm sure you'll find me a trustworthy man, I can't run away." He smiles and gestures his head to Maura who has made an exit, speaking lowly, "but maybe you should...."
Morgan Le'fae nods to Tomeais as he stands and prepares to leave, he withdraws a small pouch of the each of the lesser darks from his coat and places them on the table, he then bows to all in the room. "Praise be to the high spender, enjoy these with my compliments." he says quietly for only Tom to hear and then whisps away for the door, his limp gone now and steadu on his feat, apparently his land legs have found him once again.
Rakuro slams into the window like a rag-doll, and does about three times as much damage. The glass shatters with a loud, ...well... sound like shattering glass. Blood slowly trickling down the back of the wolfkin's neck, he slumps forward as the paladin releases him. His eyes lock on the floor, doubled over, a deep breath fills his lungs, hackles rising.. "You..." he whispers.... he begins taking deep, rapid breaths.. "You preach so damn much. You love your Primes so damn much. You sicken me, paladin. You and all your kind sicken me." His eyes flare wide, though the effect was slightly less noticeable as he is still doubled over. Another deep breath fills his lungs, his shoulders rising, and he snarls out as he moves, "So serve your primes in HELL". Like a tightly wound spring, the wolfkin moves slightly forward and then straight up. His paw hooks on the bottom of the paladins breastplate and with an ear-shattering roar he lifts him bodily from the ground and flings him above Tekarin's head, well past the rugs.
Rakuro notes that this motion would, quite simply, rip his arm away from Steele.
Tomeais Inkwell seems to hug the pigments and tucks them into his robes with a pleasent smile. He turns to the bickering and tries to make any sence out of it.
Tekarin Hertzold ducks under Devon's body and without checking to see if the Paladin is alright she steps forward to Rakuro. "Rakuro! Sir! There ain't any need for all this!" She wasn't going to actually attack anyone but it was clear that in this instance Rakuro was not in the right. And as much as she considered him a friend, he was being stupid and she was angry.
Steele Glyph: Steele notices that her attempts to calm the wolf down were not working, so she backed away and waited to see if Tekarin could do any better.
Isilde rushes forward as well, doing what might be one of the stupidest things in her life -- scooting _between_ Rakuro and the paladin. Drawing herself up to her entire three foot height, she chitters (more than a little nervously) "Mister Rakuro. Please stop."
Tekarin Hertzold is too angry to be nervous at the moment, although what little bit of sense she had was screaming at her at the moment.
Tomeais Inkwell bites his lip, feeling he should say something, but doesn't. He doesn't know many of the people involved in the fight at all. He shrugs.
Devon Neilan's eyes widen for a brief second, and he rather simply finds himself flying. He lands on his upper back with a loud, unsavory 'Clank' with the shifting of his armor plating. He groans a bit, laying prostrate on his back. The gazelle flips over and pushes himself to his knees slowly, groaning a bit and rubbing the back of his neck. Panting, he pushes himself slowly to a stand, his gaze locked upon the wolfkin as he speaks, his voice strained slightly, though righting itself half-way into his words, "No creature has such strength and holds such dark aura of his own will... I see evil in you, friend." The Templar holds his arms out at his sides, and assumes something of a battle stance. Within a second, two bright flashes of light form on his arms and take shape. In the grasp of his right hand now rests a powerfully carved, beautifully crafted warhammer, and strapped upon his left now a large, round shield of equally ornate design. He breathes steadily, and speaks simply, and sternly, "Step away, my friends, there is nothing you can do for him... nothing, now. I do not wish to battle against you, friend, but you leave me with little choice.. I will do my duty." To those surrounding, at this point a very warm, soothing feeling emits all about him.
Tekarin Hertzold grimaces from a rather.. uncomfrotable feeling and she grabs his shoulder. "Rakuro.. Stop it. Now. This is insanity an' you know it." The uncomfortable feeling was starting to be more of a.. painfull feeling but she tried to push it away. If Rakuro and the other fella got in a fight she was pretty sure one of them wouldn't be leaving it alive.
Isilde's ears clamp down to the sides of her head and her eyes widen as she senses....something. "Tekarin.....back away" she says quietly. "Back away now." And she heeds her own advice, turning sidewyas to face the paladin. "Please stop" she says to both of them, voice quiet with forced calm.
Rakuro's head tilts in a most disturbing way towards Tekarin, his muzzle hanging slightly open as though he were half-dead, needle-pointed teeth showing in the gap. A pair of eyes fix on the cowlady, but instead of the calm, dark blue that so often greeted her, there was nothing but pale, lifeless white. The wolfkin breathes inward, then exhales slowly, nothing more than a wheeze coming from a throat that was already strained, and seemingly straining further, like every muscle in the wolfkin's body was tensing for something.
Tekarin Hertzold is panting and her eyes are closed tightly. It seems that she's in quite a bit of pain for some unexplained reason. Any rational person of course would have backed away but she doesn't get the hint, in fact she purposefully ignores it. She raises the other hand and rubs at her face, as if trying to get something off of her. "Rakuro. STOP IT!" She stares back at him straight in the eyes fearlessly and of course, stupidly for not getting out of the way. "Yer' gonna get someone hurt actin' like this you damned idiot!" She finally takes her hand off his shoulder, it simply hurt too much anymore..
Steele Glyph: Steele does as the Paladin says and backs away, but she looks worried. She didn't like the way this was going. There were strong powers at work, and magic frightened her. She finally decides to take cover behind the bar.
Tomeais Inkwell says and does nothing!
Devon Neilan simply waits no longer to take action, his breath steady and simple. The gazelle's armored form bursts to life, then. He raises his warhammer above his head with a strong jerk, and a blinding white light envelops the weapon. He advances a step and shouts a solid word of an indescernable language, sending a swift, snaking bolt of holy light rushing for Rakuro. It weaves around any other presence easily, as if naturally drawn to the wolfkin's form. Should the bolt strike, its force would be great enough to send him sprawling through what still remained of the window.
Isilde raises her hands, showing one to be empty, the other holding her little quartestaff loosely, non-threateningly, and approaches the unknown paladin, figuring Tekkie is trying to keep Kuro from doing anything too rash. "Please" she starts to say, her voice cutting off as the light whips past, causing her to break off for a moment. "Chim's nuts and barley!" she positively shouts when she realizes what the paladin has done. "You're going to get innocents killed here!"
Tomeais Inkwell's player finally realises what's going on. So, he gets up and shuffles out of the way as quick as a weak wounded mage can
Steele Glyph: Steele frowns and, after seeing how close that evil light came to zapping the writer, she jumps up from behind the bar, and runs to the squirrel's side, "You're nuts, girl. I don't know why I'm saving you." She mutters as she grabs Isilde's arm and attempts to run back behind the bar, dragging the rodent behind her.
Isilde's digs her toeclaws into the wooden floor to try to resist dragging.....and for a forty pound critter, those toes of hers do pack some grip. "No!" she growls, getting dragged part of the way (ripping splinters from the floor as she goes) until she gets a couple of claws wedges between floorboards and budges no further.
Rakuro's eyes snap wide, expanding to reveal yet more white, leaving it appears almost as there were two white sockets where his eyes should be. His mouth opens as though to scream, but the bolt strikes him square in the chest. This time, very much like a ragdoll, the lanky creature's head snaps backward momentarily, and then, in a cruel mockery of realism, every limb of his body snaps forward. With a sickening thud, and the sound of crunching bones, the wolfkin flies through the window, splintering wood and sending what little glass still remained exploding off into the streets outside the tavern. And then.. well.. he's gone from view.
Steele Glyph: Steele frowns. "Fine. Go ahead and get yourself killed, you fool." She growls, then turns to Tomeais and is about to ask him if he would like to escape from this warzone when she hears the crash. "What the-?"
Devon Neilan steps forward, and looks to the squirrel who had yelled toward him, his voice calm and collected, "The innocent have nothing to fear of the power the Primes provide me, friend. Only the evil need fear me." With that, he vanishes in a swirling sphere of white light, gone from view after that.
Tekarin Hertzold holds her right arm close and gasps, shaking off the damnbedable feeling.. "Rrr..." She turns toward the door and runs outside to check on him, brushing past the Gazelle.
Rakuro lays like a broken doll on the ground, blood pouring freely from his mouth, soaking through his clothing about his chest. In short, he doesn't look good.
Devon Neilan reappears in the same swirling sphere of white light but a second later, illuminating the darkness of the surrounding night.
Tekarin Hertzold slides to a stop and digs her hoofs in to _completely_ stop. She leans down and slowly lowers her hand, expecting that cold bite. "Rakuro?" Maybe the toss had knocked some sense into him.. Unfortunately it looked more like it had killed him. She checks to see if he's got a pulse.
Tomeais Inkwell shuffles as fast as he can, stopping to catch his breath every so often. He still hasn't figured out why ever these people were fighting.
Rakuro seems to be lacking this thing called a pulse. And even the cold aura seems to have left.
Isilde takes only a moment to assess the situation, then up and out the broken window she goes. Running on all fours, her staff tucked under the straps of her pack alongside the gnarled black stick she always carries, she bounds over the road into the nearest tree, scrambling up into the branches, cursing up a blue streak the entire way.
Devon Neilan raises his voice, to something of a shouted command, "Friends, get away from here, now! That creature will no longer recognize friend from foe!! He will kill you if you stay! Leave, now! You are all in grave danger!" His gaze darts to those around, simply hoping they'll have the sense to listen to him.
Steele Glyph: Steele notices Tomeais' trouble and helps him along by slipping an arm under his shoulders. "Where to?" She asks. "Hopefully not towards the trouble?"
Tekarin Hertzold takes her hand back and just stares at him. Then she looks up at Devon, Tomeais, and the Isilde helplessly. "He's.." She checks his pulse again. "He's not any danger, he's DEAD!" She of course does not listen because she's of the firm opinion that Rakuro is singing the choir invisibule.
Devon Neilan's ears twitch several times and he steps forward, raising his warhammer to point toward Tekarin, "Get away from him, now! He very much alive, and rather not himself!" He steps forward, looking over Rakuro's "corpse", he holds his warhammer out from his side, and it begins to take on the same blinding white glow it had within the tavern, "This must be done. Leave, now."
Tekarin Hertzold gets up and steps back but not from Rakuro, from Devon. She takes out her own warhammer to defend herself, then realizes he's going to do something to Rakuro. She's almost certain though that it's probably not something that's nice.
Tomeais Inkwell gently removes Steele's hands from his body, " I need to gather my own strength, dear." He scoots to the scuffle and tries to gather up the available information. "Dead?"
Rakuro rather suddenly bursts upward from the dirt, not moving in a way that could at all be considered natural. Instead of hopping upward like a furre governed by muscles and bones would, his limbs seem to simply snap upward. Like a spider of a wolf, he collides with the paladin, claws punching holes through the metal of his armor for grip. His muzzle snaps about, opening wide and attempting to clamp around Devon's neck.
Devon Neilan grunts rather loudly at this most recent development, doubling back a step for balance as Rakuro latches onto him. Rather than attempt to block the jaws which are now about to take a good chunk of his neck, he responds with a swift counter. With one well-aimed stroke, his warhammer sails into Rakuro's open side, the white glow disappearing and creating a golden burst of energy upon contact. Which, presumably, has the potential to send Rakuro flying.
Isilde's had enough -- she's dealt with being kidnapped by Erisvan's servant, battled bandits in the sewers, fought ghosts while inthe employ of a vampire, and even taken down demon-possessed doggies in the street outside the tavern.....but seeing a friend like this? One of her _teachers_? The diminutive squirrel clings to a bracnh, hunkered down into a little ball and...._screams_. A piercing shrill cry rather like the death shriek of a rabbit.
Tekarin Hertzold has no idea what to do.. Rakuro was going to kill Devon it seemed and he was clearly not himself. She drops her hammer in the dirt and rushes forward, grabbing Rakuro's shoulders in an attempt to pry him off of the Paladin.
Tomeais Inkwell covers his mouth, half wishing he could act in some sort of meaningfull way. Since he is wounded already and in no hurry to die again, he keeps his paws out of this mess. His attention snaps to isilde who's well... gone nuts and begins a quick shuffle towards her, maybe to at least clam her down.
Steele Glyph: Steele covers her ears when the squirrel screamed. This was too much. She backs away, then hightails it out of there.
Isilde seems to have lost all sense at this point. Forgetting magic, in a dead panic, she resorts to the skills of her childhood. Out of her pouch comes the sling.....and from the branches of her tree, ammunition. With a harmless *plink* she whips a pinecone off of Devon's breastplate, followed quickly by another that _might_ just clip is nose. Not like it would do more than sting if it did hit. Seems she blames the paladin for Kuro's transformation.
Rakuro's body spasms violently and his jaws snap shut a few scant inches from the paladin's neck as his limbs contort into an impossibly painful position. A thin wheeze escapes from his throat, but instead of actually being flung away from the paladin, the wolfkin leans forward, his back stretching. Suddenly, with a long, sickening sound of flesh slowly being torn, his back seems to explode in a shower of blood and torn skin as two long, tattered wings, black as the night, twisted as a dragon's, extend from his back.. dripping the red of life. If this didn't knock Tekarin backwards, perhaps the pure shock would. Suddenly, the wolfkin seems to find a voice.. a voice like the grave itself, thin and rasping, metal upon pockmarked metal. "Tonight, paladin.. you see the result of your failures." And then one paw detaches from the paladin's and swings towards his neck with the obvious intent of flaying all the skin from one side.
Tekarin Hertzold lets go of Rakuro when his wings form. Now her entire frontside and face is covered in Rakuro's blood and bits of his fur. She looks rather gruesome, but she does not back away. She just.. stares. "Wh...?"
Tomeais Inkwell continues to scoot to isilde, speaking calmly to her. Flying pinecones could possibly make difficult. "Isilde, dear.... please come to your right mind." He inwardly curses even coming about tonight, the threat of death was higher than usual around here lately. If he is hit with blood, he smiles but wipes it off and contiues to scoot.
Devon Neilan responds in no way to Isilde's tactics.. far too concerned with other matters, you see. Growling a bit, the Templar summons all his strength and thinks as quickly as time will allow.. time, which there wasn't much of. He sidesteps, jutting to one side, the side of his neck taking the brunt end of the wolfkin's claws, sending blood and flesh flying from it. He lets out a cry of resolve and responds with his own retaliation, bringing his shield in an upward arch to bash against Rakuro's form and release his grip. Devon's eyes close, and he utters but a simple chant, holding his shield forward it begins to glow with a bright, golden radiance which effects only the dark of the area. He holds the shield toward Rakuro, his face burning with resolve. He jerks his warhammer to the side and once again flares up the white glow, which he then promptly sends soaring for the wolfkin's head, the radiant waves of golden, paralyzing light disappating from the shield.
Isilde scrambles from branch to branch, wrenching "ammunition" from the tre as she goes. From paw to sling toward paladin -- with any luck she might distract him long enough for Kuro to rip his throat out. Not that she's actually thinking at this point.....as far as she's concerned, Devon might as well be a Mereling raiding her family's orchards, where the barrage of a few hundred nuts/seedcases/pincones/sticks from the hundred or so members of Isilde's family stood a pretty darned got chance of actually driving them off.
Rakuro is flung from the paladin by the forceful blow of the shield, cloth and skin ripping in the face of the powerful atack, and goes catapulting into Tekarin in a mass of bloodied fur and clothing, likely drive the both of them to the ground. Now bleeding profusely from several places, he doesn't even wait for recovery (of himself or Tekarin), merely leaping forward once more, this time a little more naturally than the first time he managed it. Then the shield begins to glow.. His eyes squint and his entire form cringes beneath the light of the piece of armor, a low hiss escaping his throat. But, not to be outdone, the wolfkin slowly, but surely, straightens, drawing a deep breath into his lungs. Seemingly all in a moment, he snaps fully upright, both wings extending to their full length, blood droplets scattering everywhere, and he unleashes an unearthly howl. The sound reverberates off the walls, shaking the ground, threatening to shatter windows, deep and dripping with the sounds of death. Razor-sharp teeth clench tightly and the wings furl inward around the wolfkin like a protective shield. With a quick bend of his knee and a leap, the creature ducks beneath the shield and drives a fist into the gut of the paladin, the breastplate buckling beneath the blow. And this, followed almost immediately by his other paw going down hard on his right leg, open pawed, with enough force to break bones.
Tekarin Hertzold is knocked back into the ground. She tries to get her footing to keep from falling but the weight of Rakuro and her bad hoof placement cause her legs to buckle and she goes down. Hard.
Tomeais Inkwell leans against the tree's trunk while the ground shakes and calls up to her shorly thereafter, "Isilde, this is not a fight for us... We can't possibly make a difference here. Come down and I'm sure it will be... over... soon." He hates having to lie, but it might help the poor girl's mental health at the moment. He also hates werid light and sounds flying around. It usually means he's about to die. "Isilde, we need to go somewhere much safer than this."
Isilde practically falls out of her tree, dropping her sling onto Tomeais below as she slips, grappling her claws into the bark by instinct. Amidst a fall of bark knocked loose by her efforts, she winds up clinging to the underside of a branch, shaking.
Devon Neilan's breastplate cracks. The sound of metal snapping is not a pleasant thing, to be sure. The wolfkin's fist has literally punched a painfully large space within his armor, which now begins to seep a rather steady flow of blood. To the following blow the Templar has little response save the sickening sound of his femur snapping and a rather loud, somewhat savage cry of pain. Doubling back, the gazelle falls backward onto one knee, blood now dripping from his nostrels. His ears flick wildly, as he takes a choice of action. Using all of what little strength is left within him, the Paladin screams a mighty shout, his warhammer once again beginning to glow. With one stroke, he slams the weapon against the ground, creating an impact that shakes the area. A white crack splits the ground and rushes forward beneath Rakuro's feet, then vanishes. The area surrounding the wolfkin begins to swell with faint light, and within a second's glance, a mighty explosion of holy aura spikes from the ground beneath him at a diagonal angle. He falls to lean one an arm, shaking, his eyes focused on the wolfkin, still.
Tekarin Hertzold had just gotten back to her feet, the air having been previously knocked out of her by Rakuro, when the shaking ground puts her back on her ass. She drops her hammer and quickly scoops it back up, trying to stand despite the ground.
Isilde_does_ fall out of the tree, this time, in a dead faint. With any luck, she'll land on something soft.
Tomeais Inkwell is not very soft nor very lucky. He breaks the girl's fall with his body, risking opening his wound again. He figures that bleeding a little would be better than poor isilde knocking herself dead. When the pain subsides, he gathers Isilde into his free arm and sits there with her, hoping this stir will be over soon.
Tekarin Hertzold pushes back up to her feet despite the pain in her knee, using her hammer as a make-shift crutch. She decides after seeing what Devon had just done, that she was not making a difference in this battle. As painful as that was to admit she backs up toward the Town Hall, leaning against the wall a bit and pulling her hammer up in front of her to guard from Primes know what.
Rakuro leans low as the paladin stumbles away from him, a deathly sinister snarl escaping his lips as he seems to prepare for another four-footed leap for the gazelle's throat. But then comes the light. One step backwards and the wolfkin's eyes widen, and then, only a split second later, white-hot light explodes from the ground, piercing straight through the wolfkin's chest and extending out behind him. His maw opens wide as though to roar, but no sounds comes. His wings spread wide, but they slowly begin to disintegrate, flakes falling from the edges and being whisked away on the wind. And then, with a *snap*, his body arches backwards and is suddenly flung. Over the spot where Tekarin was just laying, past Isilde and Tomaeis. With a *crack* he lands in the street, digging a furrow with the force of the fall until, finally, he lays still. The demonic dragon wings flutter, and then are whisked away in fragments like gold leaf in the wind, the twisted form of the wolfkin seemingly shrinking, returning to a more natural pose. Yet still, broken and battered, a pool of blood gathers about what could now be more easily recognized as the Mage Rakuro.. the mage Rakuro with his clothing and skin blasted, a hole in his chest three inches wide, flanked by a hole one inch wide, and then four more thinner holes.. like those of daggers.
Tekarin Hertzold decides the fight is over and she starts to hobble over to Rakuro, dropping her hammer as a crutch. "Tom! Check Devon." From what she could figure, Devon was coming out of this fight a clear winner. Rakuro looked.. dead. But he'd looked dead once before tonight. She doesn't even check for a pulse and just grabs him up with one arm, dropping him over her shoulder. She leaves the hammer in the street and painfully starts toward the Clerics. "Tom! NOW!" She hadn't even given poor Tomeais a chance to move! What a bitch she was.
Tomeais Inkwell gasps at this climatic moment and cranes his neck to see if the wolf is breathing or not. He doesn't dare get in the line of fire so he stays with Isilde wraped up in his good arm's sleeves. He calls to Tekarin, "I'm not going anywhere NEAR that man! And you, more than anyone else, knows why!"
Devon Neilan breathes heavily, no more than a strained pant. The gazelle leans against his one good knee, using a hand to support him. He blinks, and in a flicker of light energy his shield and warhammer vanish. Blood pours from the open wound on his torso, nearly six inches wide in diameter. Shaking, he looks forward to see the result, the earth before him black and scorched. His victory is short-lived. He begins to cough violently, and he readily vommits blood on the ground before him, which his broken form now falls forward into with something of a clank from this beaten armor. A small pool of blood begins to form beneath him, the scarlet liquid coming from his nose and mouth, as well. The only sign that proves he is, in fact, still alive is the weakened wheeze of his breathe.
Tekarin Hertzold snorts and looks back at Devon. She couldn't just leave him in the street to die..
Tekarin Hertzold drops Rakuro back onto the ground and trots back to Devon, dropping onto her knees. She grabs him up and lays him over one shoulder, having to use both arms to get him up there.
Tekarin Hertzold stands up and heads over to Rakuro, tossing him over her other shoulder, and with that she makes way to the clerics! Each step from her right leg ushers a gross sounding little pop from her knee. "Damn.. Heavy.."
Tekarin Hertzold kicks the door open!
Tekarin Hertzold lets them off at the stairs and hollers up there. "Hey! Got two wounded!"
Tekarin Hertzold can in no way carry 370lbs of dudes + herself and her armor up the stairs with a bum leg.
Devon Neilan kerplumps... with a clank.
Tekarin Hertzold sits by the stairs and stretches her legs out, fending off any clerics that would come to close. "It's not my blood... Get away you!... It's not broken just leave me alone... I'm not the one who's dyin'!" Damn they could be so annoying.
[#] Naturally, they're both thrown into the nearest available beds, which are ironically quite close. Good thing nobody'll die while Devon's unconcious. The clerics get busy with their thing, Rakuro hopes Tekarin did at least a little work on her paper, and it is so totally time for unconciousness.
On a seemingly average night in Ansteorra, the mage Rakuro met Devon Neilan the paladin. The others tried to ignore the confrontation, continuing to deal with a merchant. The discussion turned from heated words to physical violence, resulting in Rakuro beginning his own where transformation. Devon, sensing the evil within Rakuro, took up his duty as a templar and engaged the wolfkin in full force, despite the hallowed cries of his companions. Long story short, there was something of an epic battle between good and evil. More newbies are mentally scarred, and both Devon and Rakuro lie unconscious in the aid of the Cleric's Guild, gravely wounded, each.
"It's hard to be near that much hardcore and not absorb some of it. Like awesome osmosis."