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Death, Doom, and Distraction

Death, Doom, and Distraction

Post by Christof on

Christof Von Haustanzer watched as the house slowly burnt to the ground, the flames warming him and casting a dancing shadow and across the land scape. Christof looked at the picture he held in his hand, it was a simple family portrait with a mother and father and two daughters. The father had the robes of a scribe and the looks of a politician, the mother had a caring look on her face with smooth features and a dark colored hair. The daughters were twins, both seemed to be about nine with beaming smiles and a smattering of freckles on their faces. Christof smiled as he looked at the picture, it reminded him of his own family before the plague hit killing all but his father and sister. The smile quickly faded as he threw the photo into the fire, watching it instantly catch flame.

The Order’s work is never done”“ he thought as he adjusted his hat and made his way back to the carriage waiting to take him into the city of Marn. The driver looked at him with a terrified look, to which Christof ignored knowing that an ignorant carriage driver wouldn’t understand the complexities of how the Inquisiton works. The carriage ride was uncomfortable to say the least, the driver seemed to find every hole in the road, as if it was a game, causing Christof to become more and more irritated as he was continuously jarred from his seat, making it quite hard to read or write for that matter. After one particularly large bump Christof had enough of it “STOP” he yelled throwing open the door and storming out of the carriage, “must you hit every damedable hole on this bloody road? Are you that ignorant that you cannot tell good road from a ditch?” The driver looked at him, again terrified, and muttered something about trying to avoid the holes and how he was sorry, to which Christof did not pay any attention to “listen, I don’t want to hear any of your miserable excuses, I will make my own way from here” he said grabbing his few belongings from inside the carriage, “you can be on your way now, I’ve already paid you in full, so unless you have a death wish be gone with you!” The driver nodded and quickly drove away in the opposite direction, leaving Christof to his own means of getting to Marn.

Christof walked the countryside taking in the scenery and letting his mind wonder, which wasn’t very hard for he had a lot on his mind. Half the reason he was even traveling to Marn came from a letter from one of his old friends Benjamin Moore, someone Christof hadn’t seen since he first earned his black feather in Portis de Challey almost fifty years ago. The letter had been put through hell and back, almost burnt to a crisp and written in an old language hardly ever used anymore, and after spending countless hours on it Christof could barely decipher it. Seeing as Marn was the only location given to him Christof decided to head there to see if he could locate his old friend and get some answers, as well as do some favors for some old friends on the way.

After trekking down the same road for nearly half a day, Christof finally made it to the city gate just as it was getting dark. As he came into view one of the guards called out to him “You traveler, Halt in the name of the city guard”, expecting this Christof reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a scroll of paper saying “I am Grand Inquisitor Christof Von Haustanzer, of The Holy Order of the Theogian Inquisition, here are my papers stating so.” The guard read over his paper and with a slight nod and a wary glance let him into the city. After clearing the gates Christof headed to the nearest bar for a drink, after all it had been a long day and could use a nightcap, and maybe he could get a lead on to where his friend was.

Re: Death, Doom, and Distraction

Post by Kyon on

Mikhail shoved a very large piece of bread into his mouth then looked up at the cityscape off in the distance. I can't believe I'm actually going to this craphole. He lifted up his food sack and continued down the road. He wouldn't have even been in Thar Shaddin if it weren't for Liberatus. As the stench of the city started seeping it's way into his nose a pain shot through his leg. “Dammit!” He groaned. “This is going to be a long day.” Mikhail had a natural hatred of cities. Too many people and smells for his nose to sift through. Not to mention that in Marn he would basically be watched at all times by the damned city guard just because he was a shifter. As Mikhail mingled over how awful his headaches were going to be a woman walked by him. He raised his head just in time to see her and jumped to the side several inches and started moving quickly away from her. Another great sign.

With negative thoughts swimming through his head Mikhail found the rest of his journey to the city gate uneasily short. A guard approached him as he was wondering whether or not he should just turn back. Unfortunately the guard had started speaking to him before he could seriously think about turning back. “What's in the bag, outsider?” The guard asked, just a little too blunt for Mikhail's patience.

“Just a bit of food, sir,” Mikhail responded, opening up his bag.

The guard looked through the bag then picked himself out a piece of bread and took a bite out of it, daring Mikhail to do something. “Why you got so much grub?” He asked between chews.

“An effect of my condition, sir. You see, I'm a shifter” Mikhail admitted knowing full well how much crap he was about to go through.

“A shifter, eh. Changers, we have enough of you crawling around here. You're not planning on staying are you?”

“Not at all, just passing through,” Mikhail replied. He wasn't necessarily lying but the whole truth wouldn't get him through the door. “Just want to grab a couple drinks and a warm bed for the night.”

The guard glared at Mikhail warily. “Alright, you need to go straight to the Justice Hall before you do anything else.” The guard stepped aside.

“Yes, sir.” Mikhail picked up his sac and headed into the city. He made his way down the main road toward the Justice Hall. Then the headache started. He'd been doing his best to keep the smells at bay, but without sufficient distraction they all came wafting into his brain. He quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of cotton balls which he'd picked some time ago and shoved them into his nostrils. The smells dulled to a more reasonable level. He dug into his bag again, this time pulling out a handful berries. He shoved them into his mouth and continued walking.

By the time he reached what his map said was downtown his headache had mostly subsided. The Justice Hall was just a few minutes south, but Mikhail saw a bar out of the corner of his eye. A couple drinks before visiting the Hall wouldn't hurt, right?

Re: Death, Doom, and Distraction

Post by Christof on

The bar was well a bar, to many people for what space there was, and the noise, sounded like a stamped of trains in the bar. As Christof weaved his way through the crowd, trying best to not to bump into anyone, though it was inevitable he would hit someone. When he did finally bump into someone he was disgusted when he felt the essence of magic about her, Pry nothing more than a shifter nothing to worry about, still disgusting things he thought brushing his arm as if she left a stain on his sleeve.
Christof finally found a dark corner of a bar to sit in, kicking his feet up on the table he flagged down a busy waitress and ordered the heartiest stout they had. While waiting for his drink Christof took in the scene that was around him, Nothing to out of the ordinary he thought to himself, a couple of shifters two tables over, a mage at the bar, and I think that’s what locals call a Battlemage, if I’m correct, which I am, sitting across from said mage being sure of himself after the quick scan he crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair. By this time the waitress had come back to the table and handed Christof his drink, He smiled and tossed her a few extra coins as if to say “thanks for the trouble” she gave him a wink and returned to her rounds. Taking a long slow sip he savored the rich flavor of his stout, the bitter taste, with just a hint of coffee he figured, refreshing his parched lips after the days journey. As with all good things, is moment of relaxation came to an abrupt halt when a half drunken gnome came up to Christof and starting jabbing him in the thigh.

“Oi, who do you think you are sittin in my seat? Do you know who I am?” The gnome said with an angry look on his face, “you must be new I’m Roykin Wimdle leader of one of the toughest gangs in this town, and ya better get outta my seat if you know whats good for ya.”

Christof calmly set down his drink and looked at the gnome with a look of disbelief saying “You know little man, you should really know who YOUR dealing with before you make boast like that, I could be working for the local guard, and if what you say is true, I could have you locked up.” Christof calmly picked up his drink and took a sip as he continued to lecture the gnome “but lucky for you I’m not, but then again maybe not so lucky for you I work, well technically worked, for a much higher power, and if you were on my list of thugs, chances are you’d be burning at the stake if I caught you, you know that actually reminds me of a story…”

Christof started to say as his mind began to wonder, but he was cut off by the gnome pulling a knife on him. Before the gnome could say a word, Christof had his gun cocked and aimed at his head saying,
”Don’t try it little man, I don’t want worry about fixing my gun after it jams painting the wall with your brain matter” with a cold voice and a stare that could make stone statues sweat in fear.
During this incident the quiet little corner that Christof was enjoying was starting to draw a crowd, and out of experience Christof knew that crowds were a bad thing Better diffuse this quick he thought. A look of terror was on the gnomes face as a dark spot started to form in the front of his pants, Christof chuckled as he looked at him saying

”well seems we aren’t so tough now are we? Why don’t you be a dear and fetch me a new drink, you seemed to have spilt part of mine when you poked my leg earlier trying to get my attention” while gesturing with his pistol towards the bar. After the gnome returned, Christof sent him on his way with a boot twoards the door, hoping that he could finally relax a bit before looking for Benjamin again in the morning.

Re: Death, Doom, and Distraction

Post by Kyon on

The bar was way too crowded for Mikhail to be comfortable in. It also smelled awful. Even worse than the city outside. Maybe the Justice Hall wouldn't be so bad. The bar kept a low light, most likely to keep average folk from fully understanding everything around him. Mikhail's gifts were proving curses for him this day. Trying his best to ignore all of this he shuffled toward the bar, knocking against almost everyone in his path on the way. He lost count of how many times he'd apologized or excused himself by the time he'd gotten to the front. Once there he waved his hand in the air gesturing toward the bartender. The man behind the counter put up a hand as he was pouring a beer and handing it to a waitress. After wiping up a minor spill he came over.

“What can I do ya' for?” The bartender asked.

“Something strong and heavy,” Mikhail responded.

“Alright,” The bartender walked over to the side of the bar and poured Mikhail a mystery drink. He slid it across the bar when he was finished. Mikhail caught it and laid a few bishani on the bar.

Mikhail fought back through the crowd to find a little corner to lean against where there crowd was a little less dense. He stood quietly sipping his drink and watching the rabble. Men, elves, and everything else were being merry and telling their nonsensical stories until something Mikhail could not see happened. Then a part of the bar quieted down and people started watching a dark corner of the room. Mikhail couldn't make out what was happening but knew it must be some brewing brawl or a “misunderstanding”. After a couple of tense minutes the situation diffused without any obvious harm being done. The crowd went back to what it was doing.

Mikhail glanced to his side and noticed a man scraping some dirt off of his glove with a long, nonhuman claw. Mikhail smiled at the chance to talk to and turned himself toward the man.

“Shifter, eh.” He asked.

The man looked up with an irritated glance, “what's it to you?”

Mikhail's smile fell somewhat, but he did not falter. Changing his hand into a paw he explained, “I'm a shifter, too. Must be rough in this town. Reeks to the heavens.”

“Aye, it is rough. Looks like it's gonna get a lot rougher for you, though,” The man gestured behind Mikhail.

Mikhail turned around and a guard was standing with his arms crossed with a look of disgust in his eyes. Something was different about this guard, though. Red gloves. Seriously? Mikhail thought.

Without giving the guard any time to speak Mikhail renewed his smile. “Battlemage? What're you doing in this dump?”

“You did not go to the Justice Hall when you entered the city,” the mage said flatly.

“No, I did not,” Mikhail took a sip from his beer. “I thought I'd stop for a drink first. It's been a long trip.”

“I should light you up right now,” the mage threatened.

“I'm not looking for any trouble, sir. Just let me finish my beer and I'll head straight there.”

“I don't ask, shifter. Come now, or prepare for the consequences.” The mage grabbed onto Mikhail's arm.

His better wisdom being fogged by his unnerving surroundings Mikhail shifted his arm and wretched it from the guard's grasp. Knowing he'd already buried himself with that act he said, “I'll head to the Hall when I'm damned good and ready.” He took one last sip of his beer before the mage's attack flung him into two people and ultimately the wall behind him.

Re: Death, Doom, and Distraction

Post by Anarawad on

The cityscape was a flash with a mix of electricity and candle light. Anarawad was used to the candle light having come from a tiny speck of a town. The thought of a little electricity excited him.

The road to Marn was a long and arduous journey. Many a time he had to talk through a situation and pay some country bandits to pass along what they called "their" roads. Only one scuffle had involved him and he was able to sneak away. A new scar donned Anarawad's chest, just above were the used leather armor stopped. His luck had prevailed, just a few inches higher and his throat would have been slit. Alas, he had to replace the formal shirt he wore, costing him more Bishani.

He reached into the pocket pouch he carried, shuffling a couple of the magically stamped coins. Almost broke now, the road ahead to be successful in the city of Marn would be a difficult one. The selling of all of his father's estate, aside from the very illegal books Anarawad buried outside of the town, had yielded quite the plethora of currency. However, the trip was more expensive than he had hoped. Perhaps he would start a shop at the bazaar first, then try for a shop downtown. He had to decide what business he would start in. Probably an apothecary, since that was what he had used as a cover to hide his small talent for healing. He didn't want to sell herbs and concoctions forever, though. Standing on the road to his destined home, he had no idea what he would be doing to survive in it.

He pressed on, approaching the gates at a sullen pace. The guards harkened to his approach, one holding up his hand and walking toward the frail young man. Anarawad's heart beat furiously as his mind poked through the false bottom in his bag to reveal in his mind the illegal book he had stolen from the basement of his father's store long ago. Perhaps hiding the long gun under his cloak was suspicious as well, although they weren't particularly illegal.

"You there! Halt!" the guard called out, freezing Anarawad to the ground. "What's in the bag, and your business here?"

"Just some supplies for the trip I made here and some herbs." he answered the guard, slinging the heavy bag off of his shoulder, "As for my purpose here, I wish to sell some wares."

The guard tore through the false-bottomed bag, examining each vial containing various exotic herbs Anarawad had picked throughout the countryside on his journey. The guard pulled out the silverware and plates that had settled on the bottom. Anarawad held his breath while trying not to show his nervousness through a gritted-teeth smile.

"Plates and utensils? A goblet? Are you another changer?" the guard scoffed.

"No, sir. Just a traveling merchant looking to set up shop here."

The guard looked the short and tiny boy up and down, garnering a laugh. He replaced the belongings of the bag back in place and dropped it on the ground. Anarawad could hear one of the plates shatter as it smashed against the ground.

"Open your cloak." the smirking guard pushed on.

Anarawad untied the garment and pealed it back to reveal his armor and weapons. The guard reached for his weapon in tension upon eyeing the hidden gun, then relaxed as the young boy didn't make any sudden movements. The guard came closer to examine the gnomish weapon and how it was attached to the armor.

"Why hide it? It's not illegal, you know." he inquired.

"No, but it lets the criminals on the roads have the element of surprise."

After some tense moments, the guard let him pass into the city. Finally, Anarawad made it into Marn. His stomach growled and his throat was parched. He didn't like the idea of wasting even more money, but he felt weak. He could see a tavern near by and headed toward it briskly. Perhaps they were still cooking despite the night.

A loud voice broke Anarawad's thoughts of sustenance, followed by a deafening bang from inside the tavern. While his fear told him to run, his natural curiosity propelled him forward. Tentatively, Anarawad squeaked open the door and found a scene inside.

Re: Death, Doom, and Distraction

Post by Christof on

Alas, relaxation for Christof today was as farfetched as one of the Tribunal Inquisitors saying magic was good in his book. Just as he was calming down from his earlier incident, he noticed a situation brewing between a shifter and one of the battlemages.

As long as it doesn’t escalate any more than a few terse words ill be fine.
Christof thought taking a healthy sip of his beverage and set his glass down on the table. The moment the glass hit the battlemage let out an attack that blasted the offender into the wall, and in doing so sent two people with him, one of which knocked over the table Christof was sitting at sending his glasses flying against the wall with a loud shatter and spilling its contents everywhere. The situation would have been comical, even for Christof, but this was the straw to break the preverbal camel’s back. Rising from his chair with a fire in his eyes that could melt iron, Christof shouted in his most angry commanding voice.


And fired is pistol in the air for added effect. The whole bar went silent as the figure in the corner strode out between the battlemage and the shifter and grabbed each of them by the collar and brought them within an inch of his face. With something akin to that of a growl, Christof looked both of them in the eye saying

”I don’t care who started it, what in Pal Tahrenor the argument was about or even who any of you are, all I want to know is this. Why, out of all the places you could of picked to fight, you had to pick the inside OF A CROWDED BAR! and shoving the two into a conveniently placed set of chairs.
The battlemage was the first to speak up, though it was more of a whimper than actual speech, and he proceeded to explain the current situation. After hearing the little spiel from the Battlemage, Christof gave him a cold deathly stare.

”I don’t like your type he began, speaking so only he and the guard, or someone with exceptionally well hearing, could hear them, pretending to use magic for the good of the people, I’ve read the reports battlemage, I know what you and your friends really do. You know what, if it were up to me id cast your lot in with the rest of the trash, your about two steps off from a band of ruffians if you ask me, ran into some on the way here, they actually had a decent recipe for some pudding… Christof started to trail off but caught himself when the battlemage gave him a weird look Anyway, ill do you a favour since I have to go down to the Justice hall anyway, ill bring this….this thing with me and book him or whatever it is you people do, for you, consider it a favour from me for not writing a report to my superiors in Portis de Challey about you.

Before the Battlemage could recover from the shock he just received of being scolded by someone he didn’t know, Christof had his pack on and was halfway out the door with the shifter being dragged along by the ear.

"Your lucky I don’t kill you too he said but you owe me a drink and I intend to collect on it." As Christof left he nearly tripped on the small cloaked man outside, to whom he muttered something of an apology as he made toward the Justice Hall dragging the shifter by the ear

Re: Death, Doom, and Distraction

Post by Kyon on

Christof wrote:"You're lucky I don’t kill you too," he said. "But you owe me a drink and I intend to collect on it." As Christof left he nearly tripped on the small cloaked man outside, to whom he muttered something of an apology as he made toward the Justice Hall dragging the shifter by the ear.

“Well this is just the greatest day I've ever had in a city,” Mikhail grumbled as he was tugged along by the strange, overly tempered man. After the two tripped over the small man Mikhail looked around to make sure the poor lad was okay. He smiled and waved before another tug forced his head to the side again. “Blasted! I can walk on my own!” Mikhail jerked his head away from the man.

He looked the man up and down, he was older looking, but still human. Mikhail probably had at least a couple years on him. “Now listen here, pal, we can walk like men with some dignity or you can attempt to tear off my ear again, in which case I will rip you limb from limb. If you choose the former, though, I can still buy you a beer when all of this nonsense is finished.”

Re: Death, Doom, and Distraction

Post by Anarawad on

The brush aside by the overcoat-sporting man had sent him staggering. The other one he was dragging behind him seemed a bit more concerned for Anarawad's well being at that moment, but he wasn't interested in the thin poorly dressed man. The man with the pistol and sharp tongue was the one intriguing him. He knew that other guns existed, of course, but it was hard to really find one. Perhaps, if he wasn't put to death for disrespecting the red-glove, some information and even training with firearms could be picked up.

I wonder if they know that I'm following them. Anarawad thought. The two men seemed to be exchanging words, but he kept back far enough not to hear them. What had that one eyed man been thinking? The battlemages of Marn were renown for their brutality. None of this could have been good for the reputation of these two. Then again, maybe they didn't care. They both looked out of place in the city, the thinner one had a wild kind of glint in his pale eyes. As long as they lived through the ordeal, they could just leave and never return.

The Justice Hall wasn't far away, barely a stone's throw from the bar brawl. Anarawad decided that he would wait outside and see if the single-eyed pistol barer came back out in one piece. He wouldn't interfere if he didn't, though. Marn was to be Anarawad's home. Building a bad reputation here wasn't high on his priorities list.

Re: Death, Doom, and Distraction

Post by Christof on

” All right then shifter have it your way” Christof said after the shifter jerked away from his grip ”but be warned, try anything and ill have your head, I’ve fought and killed things you only think of in your nightmares”

The Justice Hall was just a stone throw away from the bar, so it was a rather short trip though Christof couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being followed the entire way there. Christof put the thought in the back of his mind as they entered the Justice Hall, the large somewhat out of place structure brought back a few memories of The Tower in Portis de Challey, and the whole reason he was here in the first place. With new gusto he turned to the shifter he was escorting while saying,

”Come on now we don’t have all day, let’s get you cleared, I have more important things to attend to here” and gave a little shove to speed up the pace.

For guards and clerks these people are decently friendly towards outsiders, maybe they know of the Inquisition? Christof thought as they waited in a line for general information, which they were directed to after they were shown which line to go to by a guard upon entering the building. The line moved at a slow rate, which gave Christof some time to note about his current adventures in his Journal, though he didn’t enjoy standing and writing it was something to pass the time. The rather quiet nature of the hall was interrupted intermediately by someone being tortured, which didn’t phase Christof to much he’d seen it before, even done it on a few occasions. As the line dredged on he felt that he was being watched again, and again shrugged it off and continued to write down his thoughts waiting for the line to progress to them so he could ask if there was any information on his friend. As the line plodded on he couldent help but think about the recent bar incident and why the locals had that look on their face when he stood up to the battle mage, thinking aloud he mumbled to himself,
" Someone should of stood up to them before, wonder why it was such a big deal, I mean what’s the worst that could happen?"

Re: Death, Doom, and Distraction

Post by Kyon on

Mikhail heard the man speaking to himself. He almost answered with his own pondering before he changed his mind. He and the Inquisitor already had a shaky meeting and Mikhail wasn't about to provoke the easily irritated old man. It was strange, though. Perhaps the Inquisitor had merely shocked the mage. Perhaps they'd have to deal with the guard later. Mikhail did not know, nor did he care. What his attention was focused on now was a scent that he'd been smelling since just before they left the bar. Even though he knew it was considered gross to do so in public he pulled out one of the pieces of cotton plugging his nose. There it was among the trash, pollution, and random inhabitants. The smell of another outsider. He did not recognize the scent but there were only a few people in this city that could possibly have any interest in Mikhail.

Now where was it? Mikhail closed his eyes and pointed his nose up, sniffing loudly. The person in question was behind them, either just inside or just outside the hall. He couldn't quite tell, too much to sift through. A slow throbbing started to creep into his head. He stuck the cotton ball back into his nose before it could get any worse. I didn't think Liberatus would find me so fast, he thought to himself. While they were in the Justice Hall Mikhail was safe, but after they left it's walls he was fair game. He had to think of a way out before his old allies could encompass him and his dear captor.

”Oy, Inquisitor,” he leaned over to the man. ”Someone's following us. I have a feeling they're after me, but if they've seen you with me they won't hesitate to kill you, too. We have to find a way out of here quietly after we get me approved or whatnot.” He nodded his head behind them to indicate where he believed the perpetrator was.

Re: Death, Doom, and Distraction

Post by Anarawad on

"'ey miss," Anarawad called to a woman about to pass into the marble building, "that dress doesn't really suit you."

The woman looked down inquisitively while replying, "You don't think so?"

"No, it would look much better on the floor in my room at the inn. Would you like to--"

The woman lunged forward and gave the small man a firm slap across the face. She stomped off scoffing and Anarawad felt his face turning hot. He smiled to himself quickly. She's a fiery one. I would love one of those. This little memento was worth it. he thought.

The tiny man peaked around the corner before the door closed again. He spotted the two quickly, even in a crowd of outsiders they stood out. They were talking once again, were they friends? Was this whole thing a ruse? Suddenly, a nod came from the thinner man in Anarawad's direction. He quickly ducked back around the corner with a skip of his heart. So they had figured him out. Oh well, they would have eventually.

Trouble. Anarawad thought to himself. He had looked up, noting the group moving forward down the road. He recognized one from the bar, but the other two were new. All three were wearing the armor given to the guards, and red gloves given to people more fierce. If the man inside was killed, he'd never find out more about firearms like he wanted. Anarawad thought quickly and strode forward.

"Excuse me, sirs."

"Get the hell out of our way." the familiar battlemage gritted.

"Yes, of course, just one quick question. Where is the Justice Hall I've been hearing so much about?"

"Seriously? You're standing right before it, fool!"

"That scant little place?" Anarawad looked down the road to a small wooden building across main street, "I thought it would be grander."

"Not that one, idiot!" the battlemage twirled him around, "That one!"

"Oh. Really? But, there are no windows or anything. Why would you make a hall like that?"

"We've got some business to attend to, outsider." one of the battlemages scolded and strode forward rudely.

"Wait," Anarawad thought quickly, "I need to report some magic use on the other side of town. That's illegal here, right?"

The three stopped dead in their tracks and looked at the meek little man before them. Their annoyance was wiped clean and a new look of distraught replaced it. Maybe this lie would work.

"We would have detected it." one of the red-gloved villains snapped.

"They were talking about how if I didn't give them any money, they would kill me with magic that even the battlemages couldn't detect. I thought it was a ruse, at first. Then they gave me this." Anarawad pulled open his cloak and shifted down his armor and shirt, "They used some sort of fire magic. It cauterized it instantly. If I hadn't dived out of the way, I would have taken the full impact and been killed."

"Is there magic like that?" one asked.

"We can never be too sure, new magics are being discovered everyday." the one from the bar answered."

"We'll go and check it out. You go and finish your business in there. Where'd you say this was, kid?" one of the battlemages demanded.

"Over by the river, on the other side of the industrial district." Anarawad hoped his memory of a long lost map wasn't failing him.

The two ran off, and the other headed off to the Justice Hall at a quick pace. Hopefully that was enough time. Anarawad sighed at his almost successful attempt at a save. Once the two battlemages on the wild goose chase found out he had just falsely reported, they'd come looking for him. It was time to find a room for the night and lay low for awhile. The two odd outsiders were on their own. Perhaps the magic user would be able to lock on to what little magic Anarawad possessed and come find him for thanks. Doubtful, but maybe so.

With his attempt at a good deed done, he strode off in search of a bed.

"Best of luck, you two." he muttered.

Re: Death, Doom, and Distraction

Post by Christof on

The shifter said something to Chistof about being followed, but it was disregarded and ignored as he continued to write in his journal. Christof looked over his shoulder and saw the flash of a blue cloak; strikingly familiar to the one he saw earlier that day, but couldn’t remember where he saw it.

”I believe we are being followed shifter” he said trying nonchalantly to glance back to try and spot the cloak again.

Finally they approached the desk and the shifter began to do the proper paperwork and chat with the clerk behind the desk. Christof didn’t pay too much attention to their conversation as he was too focused on trying to remember where he saw that blue cloak before. After several minutes of bantering between the two Christof was fed up with waiting and cut the clerk off mid-sentence,

”Sorry to interrupt madam,” he began politely ”I will let you finish your conversation, but may I ask a quick question first, have you any information on a man by the name of Benjamin Moore? He’s a good friend of mine and he was last seen here.”

The clerk gave him an awkward look and informed him that a man by that name had been in the Justice Hall about a week ago asking about a local gang and their whereabouts, but she hadn’t seen him since. Chistof thanked her and started to head back to the street, At least I have a lead now he thought. As Christof was about halfway to the door he noticed the Battlemage from the bar earlier.

”Battlemage!” Christof said with outstretched arms “I see you have come to check up on my work, I brought the shifter here as I said I’d do, you need not fret so you can return to your duties”

Christof’s greeting was not met with what he expected, the Battlemage glared at him and shouted ”Seize him! No one makes a fool of me and gets away with it!”

Christof was confused for he believed he did nothing wrong saying ”Surely you don’t mean myself? Arrest the shifter if you need to arrest someone.”

”Good point, get the shifter as well, throw them both in the dungeon!” the Battlemage said with a wolfish grin on his face.

Seeing as the situation was about to go from bad to worse Christof bowed and took off his hat saying to the Battlemage ”Well my good sir, as the old saying goes, better part of valour”. Quickly adjusting his hat and tightening his equipment to him, Chirstof made a mad dash for the exit. After bursting through the Justice Hall entrance, chased by several guards, he rounded the corner and hurtled over a fruit stand, That should slow them down a bit he thought as he made haste to the city entrance armed with a lead on what his friend was doing, hopefully I can find something about this gang outside of this city.

Re: Death, Doom, and Distraction

Post by Kyon on

The person at the front counter was a woman. This just keeps getting better and better, Mikhail thought. Luckily the line moved slow enough for him to gather his courage to speak to the clerk. Not to say when he did finally get his turn that he was very smooth.

“Um... Yes... I'm a-a shifter.... I need to register, I guess.” He fell over his words but ultimately the woman knew exactly what needed to be done.

“Ah, yes,” she said flatly. Then she started rambling.

Mikhail paid no attention to what she was saying, focusing more on her movements. If she makes a wrong move, I'm getting the hell out of here. He watched her closely as she was blabbering and moving around papers. He thought she said something about her uncle or something being a shifter, too. Mikhail signed a couple of documents all while still watching the clerk intently. She snatched up the papers quickly, put them somewhere under the desk, and continued talking. It was a relief when the Inquisitor interrupted.

Christof wrote:"Sorry to interrupt madam,” he began politely "I will let you finish your conversation, but may I ask a quick question first, have you any information on a man by the name of Benjamin Moore? He’s a good friend of mine and he was last seen here.”

The woman turned her attention to the man allowing Mikhail to breathe a sigh of relief. Then the Inquisitor turned to leave. Mikhail was about to be hot on his trail, but then he saw the mage. Changers be damned! He had not even noticed the scent of the guard as he'd approached the building. The Inquisitor smiled at the guard and greeted him warmly. The guard was not so pleasant. The guard was actually about to arrest the Inquisitor. Quite a hilarious sight when Mikhail thought about it.

“Good point, get the shifter as well, throw them both in the dungeon!”

Not my day, Mikhail repeated the mantra that had been running through his thoughts constantly since entering the city. He bolted toward the door just after the old man dashed outside. He saw the Inquisitor leap over a cart and make for the city wall. Spry for a human. Mikhail had no intentions of leaving the city until he'd killed the remaining members of his old gang, so he took off straight down the street.

“Oy, Inquisitor!” Mikhail yelled just before splitting from the man's path. “I'll find you!”

He bolted down the street knocking down everyone in his way. He didn't have to look behind him to know the guards were still there. They were close enough to smell with the cotton shoved up his nose. He made a quick dash to the right and then another right turn. One last right and he'd be behind the guards, but they were too close. A quick thought and Mikhail was scaling a small building. Just have to get up there before they turn the corner. He could tell he was being gawked at and hoped that the citizens would not give away his position. Right before he could pull himself onto the roof, though, his leg started throbbing as if it had been cut. Not now. Please, not now! He used his good leg to haul himself up and lay silently panting for breath.

As the guards' smells got weaker Mikhail let himself relax. Now all the guards would know who he was, they knew exactly what he was too. He started regretting going to the Hall in the first place. It would be easier to kill a Battlemage than it would be to hide from an entire city of them. For now, Mikhail would have to content himself with lying on the building until his leg stopped aching.

Re: Death, Doom, and Distraction

Post by Anarawad on

Definitely not good. Anarawad thought as he saw one of the two bolting down the street. It wasn't the one he was most interested in, but he found himself concerned about the man, anyway. He couldn't get involved, though. It was not his battle.

He hung a quick right next to some small building down a narrow alley. He heard the loud squeaking of armor flying forth behind him. No one was going to notice the little man during a chase. He turned left at the end of the building, but saw something much more intriguing than a gun-wielder.

This man he thought to be some unimportant magic user was scaling the back wall. Guards ran past, not noticing Anarawad and the crowd watching the man struggle over the side. On to the roof, huh? It must have been nice to be able to avoid people like that. So he was a shifter? Anarawad had never seen one before. Interesting.

Do not get involved, idiot. You are going to have two battlemages angry with you already. he thought. Now that at least one of the men they were determined to jail or worse had ran. Those two battlemages would think of Anarawad as a conspirer. So much for living in this city for awhile. He had heard of a small town next to the city named Shim, perhaps he could stay there for a little bit. There were guards there from time to time, but from what he heard, the battlemages preferred to stay in the city unless they were needed.

His stomach growled viciously. He had neglected getting nourishment at the tavern, abandoning it to curiosity. He still needed to find...

An inn. You've got to be kidding me. Anarawad noticed a small worn sign above a rickety back door on the building. The man had climbed a small, run down inn that happened to have a back door. What luck.

Anarawad walked in the door and asked the innkeeper if there was any food to be had. She didn't have much, but there was plenty of bread and fruit, along with an uncooked fish. It would have to do.

"How much for all of this and a room?" he asked.

"The room will be 40. The food, oh, just have it. It looks like you could use it, and its all about to go bad." she replied and handed him a slender key.

"Top floor?"

"Yes. If you want, you can-"

"It's fine. Does it face this back side, here?"


"A window?"

"Aye. It leaks a bit since it makes a peak on the roof."

"Lucky me. Exactly the view I wanted, thanks." Anarawad smiled and started the climb up the stairs, "Oh, and should you feel lonely, feel free to come knocking."

Something smashed into the steps behind him as he kept the ascent up. The doors on the inside were nicer that the one in the back, but the room was tiny. Nothing more than a chest and a single bed was in it, and the room was hardly big enough for a normal man to squeeze between the wall and bed. Luckily he was small.

He opened up the shutters and placed the plate on the sill, slowly backing away to sit on the bed.

"The food is for you, if you want it. My name is Anarawad Gaelish." he called out, "If you see fit, eat and tell me yours."

Re: Death, Doom, and Distraction

Post by Christof on

“After him!”

The guards yelled as they were in pursuit of Chirstof Von Haustanzer. Christof was doing a decent job at avoiding them by jumping through vendor stalls, weaving though crowds of people, and by knocking things into the path of the guards, but they were very persistent in their chase and were always within sight of him. Blast! These wretched guards are persistent! Christof thought as he knocked over another set of boxes to try and throw the guards off his trail. Suddenly Christof heard an angry buzzing by his ear, followed by a ‘thunk’ of a crossbow bolt hitting a box in front of him. Was wondering when they would start shooting, changers remind me not to be on this end of a chase again. he thought as three more bolts buzzed by narrowly avoiding him by a few centimetres.

After a few more harrowing minutes of running Christof finally caught a break, about one hundred metres infront of him was an alleyway that veered off to what appeared to be an old abandoned building. Seeing his chance Christof threw down a bag of flour from a nearby stall causing a nice cloud to cover his trace. As he rounded the corner a sharp pain shot through his right arm, Ill tend to that later right now I must make sure I’ve lost the guards .

Christof kept running towards the old building and aimed for the front door lowering his shoulder so he could hopefully ram the door down if it was locked. Luckily for him it wasn’t locked, so as Christof braced for impact he instead flew through the door and ended up crashing into a set of stairs. Before he hit the ground his pistol was already aimed at the door waiting for one of the guards that never came.

“Well, hello to you to sir and welcome to my inn….you can put the gun away no one comes this way much I’m sure you will be fine.” The innkeeper said to Christof after the initial shock of him bursting through the door. “do you want a room? Or are you just here to break things?”

Christof picked himself off the floor and dusted some of the flour and dust off of himself, wincing as the fresh wound in his arm reminded him it was there.

”No thank you madam, just looking for someone, I believe he may of come by this way” Christof said shaking some of the dust off his hat.

”Well a young man did just check in upstairs much younger than yourself old man” she said eying him up, ”if that’s who you’re looking for he’s upstairs in the back room”

”Thank you madam, ill see if its him” Christof said fixing the crease in his hat and adjusting it on his head.

As he crept up the stairs he slowly drew his sword winching at the pain in his arm from the bolt. Blast that shot, hopefully I won’t have to fight anyone, need to get this thing looked at before it gets worse.

"The food is for you, if you want it. My name is Anarawad Gaelish." he called out, "If you see fit, eat and tell me yours."

”So your name is Anarawad Gaelish, nice to know” Christof said levelling his sword at Anarawad, ”shall we have a chat while we wait for whoever your leaving that food there for, I have a few questions to ask you.” Christof then picked up an apple and took a bite thinking that things might end up going his way.

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