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Author Topic: He Who Lives By The Sword...  (Read 44762 times)
Augustus Longeye
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« on: February 09, 2011, 02:03:29 am »

The sky crackled. A storm had been brewing for days now, gently rolling in the humidity and stifling pressure that all Londoners knew heralded a storm that was to be feared. They rarely got storms this bad, but occasionally they blew in and people had to lock themselves in their houses. It was during these periods that the city was cleansed, the streets deserted and the heavy rain washed away the accumulated filth and grim of the city... or if not washed away, at least lessened.
All the technology at the docks and in the factories was still, nobody was stupid enough to work them so they settled and groaned in the wind. They themselves mirrored the state of the city; halted. The city wasn't going through a period of exciting change of adventure, it was stagnating and seizing up. Nothing was perfect, but the status quo was such that nobody waned to push for change, lest it come back and disadvantage them more.

In the darkness of the night something rippled. The rooftops, now flooded and running like rivers, pattered slightly as if someone were running across them. They left nothing but the sound of the storm in their wake.
It was just outside a small tavern, battened down but still containing the usual mess of customers, that the footsteps ended. There was a light slap of flesh on wet stone, and then the door opened. A small lithe man was outlined in the doorway, his hair stuck to his head with the force of the rain, and his clothes completely sodden.
As soon as the door was open he wind sought the opportunity to cause mischief. The gaslights dotted around the room instantly flickered out, their glass jars not protecting them. The great fire in the wall roared in the wind, sending smoke billowing onto the tables next to it. People began to stand up, about to move to the door to close it as quickly as they could and to question this strange man who was still standing there, a look of pleasant confusion on his face.
There was a ripple in reality, the whole fabric of time and space seemed to scrunch up for a second, then the man gently fell over on the floor. A few people yelled, more jumped to their feet and suddeny stopped when they say the cause of his collapse. The man had been completely run through by a wooden stake, nearly two meters long and nearly a foot wide. Nobody had seen it enter his back or leave his chest, but there it was, as if it had always been there. A few people dared to peek out the door, but there was nobody in sight, and rightfully so. The storm howled again, each flash of the lightning illuminating a city on the edge of disaster, each crash masking another ripple.
« Last Edit: February 11, 2011, 01:54:58 am by Augustus Longeye » Logged

Quote from: Sir Nikolas
I say you, chaps down there! Piss off, see? Haa ha! Love, Space Longeye <3
B.Greco
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« Reply #1 on: February 09, 2011, 04:29:33 am »

The man continues to take cover behind the bar, stuffing a few small bottles of rum in his tool bag before anyone notices then stands up quickly. "My god!" he screams, a look of genuine horror on his face, "What just happened here!?"
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The hand is healed, but the neat little bump that moves when I use my index finger remains.

Please visit http://www.abstrata.webs.com to check out my steam/fantasy tabletop rpg.

"Cogito ergo sum" - Descartes
"Carpe diem" - Horace
"Meus tergum vulnero" - Bryon Greco
The Corsair
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PixieOnTheMic
« Reply #2 on: February 09, 2011, 05:09:38 am »

As the storm powers its way into the lower levels of the city a young man stands atop an airship. His feet stand lightly on the metal walkway that sits above the envelope for maintenance. A man stands at the other end of the walkway where it disappears into a staircase that leads back to the gondola.

"Payment, Ethan, it was that simple."

Ethan knows he can't tackle the man down. He is cornered. He looks back across at the man.

"I think I've found a better alternative Garrick."
He holds his gaze for a moment then lets out a quick laugh.
"This looks like fun!"
He steps off the edge...

He begins to plunge toward the city. The private high-altitude airship went above the rainclouds and had it not been for the respirator on his back and the skills Garrick had taught him he wouldn't have been alive to kill himself like he had.
As he fell, he gritted his teeth and hoped his teammates had taught him something useful.
He penetrated the cloud layer and was instantly soaked. The wind contorted his face and swept his medium-length hair backwards into an elegantly swooping line that added real classiness to his sharp face. He noticed a change in the sensations his extra-sensory abilities allowed him to feel and he determined he had reached terminal velocity.
Right so far He thought.
As the patchwork of London rooftops began to grow bigger and bigger he focused his mind. With a final clenching of his jaw he found that dormant power he had noticed in himself only a few weeks before.
He felt himself level out.
He laughed out of sheer joy as he came to a running landing on a rooftop. He made use of his quick-footed and agile nature to run across the rooftops and leap from building to building where necessary. His mind picked up many snippets of conversation as he ran.
"Ya bring 'ome nothin' but-" "We can't let-" "Haha! chase me!" "My god! What just-"
Colourful place he thought
Finally he stopped at the roof of what looked to be an inn. He swung into an open window to find the room was conveniently empty.
As good a place as any
He fell onto the bed.
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I think I should also mention I had a dream about this game, only Bailey was a woman...

I assure you, that incident in Singapore was all a misunderstanding.
Clockwork1328
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« Reply #3 on: February 09, 2011, 12:09:14 pm »

Can that house be my house? If so I run out of the door after my girlfriend dumped me.
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Mechanus Clockwork
Augustus Longeye
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« Reply #4 on: February 09, 2011, 04:40:09 pm »

[Clockwork, try to keep OOC bits in the OOC board, thanks!]
Augustus Longeye stood from his chair. He casually wandered towards the body and drew a pistol. After tapping the head a few times and making sure it was really dead, he rolled the man onto his side. The wooden post stopped him from rolling him over completely, but Longeye could say for sure he had never seen the man in his life.
He head a light thump from upstairs, followed by a click of a latch and before anyone could stop him he crept onto the upper floors of the tavern. There were many rooms here, some open, some emitting strange noises, but one felt different. Longeye knew enough from his travels to firmly say there was magic behind it, and nothing but magic could have killed that man.
He opened the door gently, drawing his sword as he did. The blade had been painted black, so as not to glint in the light, and strapped to his lower arm for stability. He saw someone lying on the bed, and leapt, landing on the man there. He pressed the sword firmly against his neck and whispered to him.
"Someone downstairs was just killed by magic, and here you are all of a sudden. I happen to know who sleeps in the room, so start talking or they'll need to fish your head out of the Themes before you go on trial for trespass.
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B.Greco
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« Reply #5 on: February 09, 2011, 05:16:00 pm »

   Watching the room sink further into chaos, but chaos being his natural element as an emergency repairman, he watches calmly. Spotting a man heading quickly upstairs, the man possessing at least as much calm as himself, he was naturally suspicious. Following him seemed like the most positive course of action.

   Following him upstairs stealthily, he peeks around the corner of the room, only to find the man threatening another man. Now Bryon isn't any more courageous than anyone else in any circumstance, except when hes had a bit to drink. Screwing himself up, he bursts into the room, holding a giant monkey wrench and yells "Stop fiend and explain yourself!!"
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The Corsair
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PixieOnTheMic
« Reply #6 on: February 09, 2011, 07:03:40 pm »

He hears heavy footsteps an ducks under the bed.
A man walks in, presumably the innkeeper, grimbling about lazy customers. He shuts the window and leaves.
Ethan stifles a laugh at the tense feeling he had while the innkeeper was in the room.
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Augustus Longeye
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« Reply #7 on: February 09, 2011, 07:19:11 pm »

Longeye stood, keeping the point of his sword pressed to the throat of the man in the bed.
"We've just seen a magic murder, here is a mage... put two and two together. He just came in through that window, the floor is wet and so is he. He could have killed that man and climbed in the window if he had the power."
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B.Greco
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« Reply #8 on: February 09, 2011, 07:24:44 pm »

"Well I'm not what you's call an educated man, me just knowin' machines and the like... but why would he kill someone from the outside and then crawl in the window? I mean, if I had to kill someone, I wouldn't stick around afterwards..."
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Augustus Longeye
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« Reply #9 on: February 09, 2011, 08:44:10 pm »

"Because if he is inside he can come downstairs and proclaim shock and explain exactly why it couldn't have been him."
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The Corsair
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PixieOnTheMic
« Reply #10 on: February 09, 2011, 08:52:13 pm »

He lay on the bed and felt his stomach begin to rumble. He'd need a meal soon enough. He reached into his deep pockets and found that thankfully his wallet hadn't fallen out. He checked how many coins he had and found well and truly enough for a meal. He'd have to get it elsewhere though, it wouldn't look good if he appeared from the room he shouldn't be staying in to buy a meal.
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Rosalia
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« Reply #11 on: February 09, 2011, 09:51:00 pm »

Norah walked along the streets that night. She smirked as she realized how stupid that choice was, a young woman alone on a stormy night? Why anything could happen. She was used to this part of town though. To get Aron the Ashedown manor to her home, she had to walk through it. She heard screaming tonight though so she just walked a little faster.
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"I AM THE CONFUSED MALE ALIEN IN THIS RELATIONSHIP!"
MWBailey
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rtafStElmo
« Reply #12 on: February 09, 2011, 11:17:05 pm »

The Actinic flare of Lightning, followed by the CRASH and BOOOMMM of thunder, set the stage for the entry, as if from the very bolt of heavenly fire that split the night and seemingly the very cobbles outside of the Inn, of a figure in long, flowing robes, bound together by a high-collared leather greatcoat. A wide-brimmed beaver top hat and tall boots in the cavalry pattern capped the ends of his person – and that person was protected overall by a Cloak of Fire; indeed, it seemed as if the figure was itself formed of fire and flash-vaporized rain., iyts blazingly-glowing blue eyes simply making it appear even more otherworldly than the creatures the man hunted.

The Cloak of Fire was the only anti-weather spell that seemed to do any good for fire wizards, and Ennis Yarrow, Magister of the order and Master of House Yarrow, who reserved fire magery for themselves, used it often. Easily prepared and bottled, it was nonetheless  not a garment for the novice, and had immolated many an over-confident one of such since its invention centuries before. Only exactingly-exerted personal mind control and control of the element on a subconsciously-habitual level allowed its safe use as an anti-weather measure. Yarrow was a master of such; he had to be, to avoid burning himself to a cinder, for, you see, he could never know when fate would turn his own body against itself, thus producing a change of variables that would completely derail someone without his unique condition.

On Yarrow’s right hip, beside a massive caplock peppermill revolver, there rested three more brass flasks of the Firecloak spell, along with powder flask and shot pouch for the revolver, all of which served tpo demonstrate his absolutre command of the spell; in the other loops of the belt, like the cartridges worn by brigands and mercenaries, rested smaller steel and pewter vials of various substances and fire-magery preparations that Yarrow used in his Hunter work.  On his left hip hung a straight-bladed Infrantryman’s saber with a heavy, no-nonsense gilt-brass guard and sharkskin grip. His staff was a black-iron-bound black oak stave that stood just a short half-foot taller than his own head.; all bore the dings and dents of heavy and frequent use.

Yarrow stood before the door, and opened it , being careful to grip it and close it after himself and latch it before the wind could grab it again. As he stood there, still blazing like a human torch, his gaze took in the staked form on the stones of the floor before him, and the wide-eyed, terrified throng who watched the the man (?) who was one of the city’s most feared magickally-armed hunter of monsters and the Damned, as he surveyed the body that so recently disrupted their lives. “Who else hunts, this night?” He said, as he grounded his staff with a BOOM that sounded deafening in the near-silence that hung in the air.

“My Lord, I swear to you, none here had a hand in this man’s demise!” The Innkeeper burbled as he stepped out of the crowd around the body, trembling in fear.

“Don’t be frightened, Innkeeper," Yarrow said, his craggy face, framed in gray-flecked chestnut shoulder-length hair lit in red and yellow by the blazing fire on the hearth, and the light of the gaslights that the barmaids were hurrying to relight. Fate had lent him a somewhat pleasant face for the evening – but even as he spoke, Yarrow could feel the change beginning again. In an instant, his features flowed like wax, and his form changed, turning from the leanness of late youth to the thickening and heaviness of middle-age, his faced turning, incongruously, almost soft and feminine, but saved from that fate by the appearance of a moustache and close-cropped locks of White hair. Only the eyes remained the same, their dark blue lambent with the bright fire of the firemage. Thus was the curse that haunted Yarrow and hunted him throughout his life: to forever change his appearance, and never , ever, have the same looks twice. An advantage to one with many enemies, but also a curse to one with many friends…
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Walk softly and carry a big banjo...

""quid statis aspicientes in infernum"
Augustus Longeye
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« Reply #13 on: February 10, 2011, 12:05:48 am »

Longeye suddenly looked up. "Someone out there is using magic... a lot of it. WHO ARE YOU?" he bellowed into the face of the man who was now looking terrified.
"I'm Herius! I work as a wing mage for the ship Averin! Why? Who are you, what do you want?"
"Air mage? Prove it? Lift that." Longeye said, pointing at the chamberpot in the room. The mage look confused for a moment, but then seemed to remember the sword against his neck and quickly wiggled his fingers at it. It resisted for a moment, before on the the spells the mage had prepared kicked in, and it rose gently off the floor.
Longeye immediately got off of him and left the room without a word to the mage, simply muttering to the strange man who had burst in "air magic didn't do that... he's innocent."

Longeye strolled out of the tavern and looked around, but it took him only a second to see who was using the magic. The huge glowing figure draped in fire didn't exactly blend in. It took him a second, but the equipment on the man's hip and the tang of magic in the air told him who, or rather what, he was. A hunter.
"Greetings, you hunt the perpetrator? Or do you hunt the victim?" Longeye asked, respectfully sheathing his sword. It would do little good anyway, it was only a regular blade and the hunter opposite him would be more than proficient enough with the staff to disable him in seconds.
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Rosalia
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MorbidVintage
« Reply #14 on: February 10, 2011, 12:18:01 am »

Norah hid out of sight from the man caped in fire. Se was certainly frightened, no horrified. She closed her eyes and made the man believe that she wasn't there just in case he had spotted her. Then another man walked out of the tavern. She swore, she coould only, at the time being, just have to focus on the fire man.

"If only they were children," she mumbled.
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B.Greco
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« Reply #15 on: February 10, 2011, 12:23:16 am »

"But sir... doesn't that seem like a lot of extra work to kill someone? Why not just leave instead? Why climb up into an upper story room, break into it and get comfy in bed? Seems like a lot of trouble to go through to play innocent. And why are you doing?"
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jack of tears
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« Reply #16 on: February 10, 2011, 03:33:43 am »

Norah walked along the streets that night. She smirked as she realized how stupid that choice was, a young woman alone on a stormy night? Why anything could happen. She was used to this part of town though. To get Aron the Ashedown manor to her home, she had to walk through it. She heard screaming tonight though so she just walked a little faster.

Had the young woman only known how right she was to be wary!  He had been following her for more than a block, keeping close to the concealing shadows cast by alleyways and too close buildings.  About his slender body, the long coat shifted like a loose second skin, moist from the damp streets and evening fog; the scarred thumb of his right hand playing with the razor he hid within.  He enjoyed women the most ... their terror was always the richest ... their pain the most succulent ... and it had been a slow week.  He had already begun to grow ridged with anticipation as he moved in on her ... listening to the fall of her feet on the stones, the soft sound of her breath he was sure he could discern beneath the symphony of the London night.  Just a few more moments and it would begin ... though with luck, it would be hours before it ended.

That is when the scream came and shattered his concentration; the girl quickened her step, men and women pressed about the doors of a nearby inn.  Frustration ground his teeth; a droplet of blood creased his thumb.  Lost!  His prey lost for some drunken brawl!  The mere thought infuriated him!  Made him seethe, and behind the red of anger that clouded his eyes he knew his next victim would suffer for it ... suffer most horribly!  Turning, he began to fade back into the shadow ...

But something caught his attention ... something wasn't right about this scene ... there was a smell of death on this air; he could feel it prickling at the base of his neck and wash down his spine like cool rain.  Suffering, and fear and anger ... this was no mere drunken brawl ...

Returning his gaze to the inn, a smile curved his lips ... perhaps there was something of value here after all.  Perhaps information he could sell ... and if nothing else, it seemed to have caught the attention of his young lady ... which meant getting close to it would keep him close to her ...

Picking up his feet, moving as if just another bystander responding to the commotion, he worked his way toward the scene ... worming his way close to the girl in the process.
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Rosalia
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MorbidVintage
« Reply #17 on: February 10, 2011, 03:39:32 am »

Norah heard something behind her. She turned around and came face to face with a young man, not too far from her in age.

"You aren't going to try anything." She said in a low, angry voice, looking him dead in the eyes.

Some had called her a witch, some had called her a temptress, other said that she was just good at the magic of persuasion. She agreed with the latter.


 
« Last Edit: February 10, 2011, 04:09:31 am by Rosalia » Logged
jack of tears
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« Reply #18 on: February 10, 2011, 04:36:27 am »

The man pauses in his stride, an amused smirk on his face ... he is in his mid to late twenties, scruffy faced, though not unhandsome for all that, his clothing damp as if he'd been out much of the night, dark and bundled against the perpetual London chill. 

"Was I trying something?" he asks, his voice smooth, used to getting under people's skin.

Was he trying something?  The question bothered him ... he had come over here to ...?  Looking at the girl, he was sure part of it was about her ... she was pure temptation, but this close to a crowd it would not have been prudent ... then?  Hearing the voices of talking men, he recalled ... the scream ... he'd come to discover what had happened ... though it seemed less important now ... less interesting.  No, no now the girl seemed for more worth his time; forget the rest.

"Did I frighten you miss?  I apologize, I must look quite the site, having been out on the town all night.  But the crowd," he waves a dismissive hand, as the crowd no longer interests him, "forget that, my name is Abrahm." he offers his left hand, palm upward, in a friendly gesture, head bowing cordially ... obviously a man better mannered than his clothing would suggest.


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The Corsair
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PixieOnTheMic
« Reply #19 on: February 10, 2011, 04:43:13 am »

He left the room and went back out into the rain via the window. He began walking down a few streets when he heard very close by "You aren't going to try anything."
His first thought was that someone had already found him. Thankfully, upon turning to the speaker he discovered she was in fact talking to a different individual. He felt compelled to stop any issue from escalating into a fight.
"Is there some trouble here miss?"
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Rosalia
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MorbidVintage
« Reply #20 on: February 10, 2011, 04:44:53 am »

Norah looked over her shoulder to make sure the other man wasn't paying attention.

"You WILL leave me alone and you WILL leave." She snarled.

She jumped as someone else started talking, "Any trouble here miss?"

"No. None at all." She smiled, and then snapped her head back around, "He was just leaving."
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The Corsair
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PixieOnTheMic
« Reply #21 on: February 10, 2011, 05:07:40 am »

"Well how about I stay right here until he does leave." He looked directly at the other man, doing his best to look imposing to discourage him from trying anything rash.
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Rosalia
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MorbidVintage
« Reply #22 on: February 10, 2011, 05:19:22 am »

"Why thank you." She said kindly, though she didn't look away from Jack. She stared him right in the eye with a scowl on her face. She was concentrating as hard as she could.
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jack of tears
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« Reply #23 on: February 10, 2011, 05:55:09 am »

The man's smile didn't falter, though his attention shifted to offer a nod of his head to the gentleman as well, taking the new arrival in as if he were a welcome addition to their meeting.  Inwardly he was trembling with something he could only define as strain, the edge of his thumb pressing across the blade of his razor, spilled a steady stream of blood into his pocket, though the pain didn't seem to be enough to break the sudden and terrible impulse that was sweeping over him ... he should leave ... he needed to leave and leave her ... and though his insanity riddled brain understood the thought wasn't his own, it wasn't able to shake off the idea - or be certain who precisely was responsible for it ... though when he was clearer minded - away from the origin of that thought and able to think without this steady, throbbing behind his eyes - he'd theorize it would have to have been either the girl or this man. 

"Of course, you're right sir, miss, I was just curious about the crowd is all ... but I see this is no place for the likes of me.  My apologies, yes.  Yes, good even to you," he tips his head again, to the gentleman only, unable to even look at the young woman, "best tidings sir."

With that, he retreats back across the street and down, only stopping once the compulsion finally allows his feet to steady and his breath to soften in his chest.  Fingers slick with blood, the blade feels tacky in his fingers ... dipping into an alley, to pulls out a rag and scrubs the blood away, rinsing the cloth in a suddenly crimson puddle as he listens to the sounds of the night and contemplates his next move.
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MWBailey
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"This is the sort of thing no-one ever believes"

rtafStElmo
« Reply #24 on: February 10, 2011, 06:23:52 am »

Yarrow looked up at the man who had addressed him. "Greetings, sir. I seek a creature who uses its powers to ensnare children, and weak and sickly adults, he said, the words themselves casual and nonchalant, as if discussing his profession over a mug of barley beer on a night of much-calmer weather -- but the voice, oh Gods, what a voice. Deep down in the lower basso range, it seemed to shake teh very timbers and foundation stones of teh Inn itself. Dear merciful shades, not that voice again, Ennis thought to himself. I sound like a damned Penny Dreadfuls actor...

"I do not sense that particular person's...stench...within these walls." Yarrow's blazing eyesockets did not betray any iris movements, but he did move his head, and one got the impression from a sudden ramping-up of a feeling of being looked at, that he was searching every face on which he seemed to focus his gaze. "...But I do nonetheless feel magic, and I suspect, mind-trickery, here." His gaze kept skipping over one particular section of the crowd, and he lifted his staff once more, and placed it between himself and that area. "Let them beware," he rumbled, "They who seek to befuddle a wizard. We know how to find that which we are persuaded to ignore," His already-dire rumble became absolutely deadly, "And I might decide to pay closer attention to such sensations the next time I feel them. Innkeeper, a pint of your best. I have coin to cover it. Now, let us examine this parcel here on the floor. Has anyone summoned the Watch?"

HE suddenly noticed that everyone was looking at his cloak, so he straightened up, removed it with a twitch of his wrist, and in the same instant snuffed it out. it was now a rather obviously well-used claok, albeit untouched by the fire that by rights should have consumed it. Yarrow draped it over a nearby chair (it was a perfectly ordinary garment, only the spell was magical), and held teh straff as he bent down again to examine the corpse...
« Last Edit: February 10, 2011, 08:01:35 am by MWBailey » Logged
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