Dragonstone

[KitiaraBrightblade]

You guys mind if I jump in?


Name: Elaith
Gender: male
Race: human
Age: 24
Occupation: Cutthroat {assassin}

Weapons: A red-hilted backsword, various hidden daggers, several poisons

Appearance: Medium length,slightly shaggy black hair; bright green eyes; rather tall and lean, but graceful; stern features; wears dark clothing to blend into shadows

Personality: Rather self-centered, but can talk his way out of hard places; often depressed; never lets emotions get in the way of his work.

History: Born to parents of unknown origin, father killed his mother shortly after her giving birth, then disappeared. Wandered the streets of a long forgotten village, and was left to fend for himself. Attempted suicide at a young age; he was taken in by a band of cutthroats, who made him an apprentice. At age sixteen, he killed two of the band, and left, seeking a new way in the world. Still sees no reason to life, often considers death.

[Ven]

aw... man! have more women for my character to play with! *wink wink*

[Ember]

(I´ll join)

Name: Malcar
Gender: Male
Race: Cambion (Human/Demon)
Age: 29
Occupation: Cultist, Servant Of Demons

Weapons: A Mace and a dagger

Appearance: He has long dark hair, a rather rugged and scarred face, greenish eyes, a number of earrings and rings, he wears a long dark red jacket over his otherwise brown and black clothes.

Personality: Obsessed in pleasing his masters, views other lifeforms as lesser beings that can only be used or that can get in his way to meddle with his plans. Ambitious in his own right as he wishes to become recognized as a demon lord one day, which truly is an ambitious claim to achieve.

History:

Malcar was the son of a woman who had been seduced and captured by a demon, the demon kept the woman alive to take care of Malcar. They actually lived in a crowded city where they appeared as a happy merchant couple, but behind the scenes there was a constant atmosphere of fear and anger. Yet when Malcar was old enough to understand what he was and to answer for his own doings, he killed his own father who had pretended to be a merchant all for nothing.

But as always murder never goes unnoticed and Malcar`s true nature was also discovered so he fled, but his mother was caught and burned for being in league with demons. Malcar turned away from his hometown and ran away to the wilderness where he survived due to his demonic nature. His luck was however about to turn as he ran into a cultist who served a powerful demon lord and thus Malcar was taken into the cultists protection. He was turned into a fanatical cultist with the blessings of his demons masters upon him.

Yet still again when his life was about to settle disaster struck, his cultist master was executed a number of zealous god fanatics. Malcar could not match their strength together, but decided to wait for them to be off guard. That chance never came as they went to the town of Malcar`s birth, there they would be safe from him as the town had now been turned into a center of priests while he had been gone. Apparently his mothers burning and his own escape had been a catalyst to this all. Now Malcar seeks to gain more power by serving his lord and only waiting for the chance to come around to burn his fanatical hometown to dust.

[Meldawen]

ven said:

aw... man! have more women for my character to play with! *wink wink*

*Pats you* It is a little bizarre, I admit, that I'm still the only female

[Ven]

[well i'm just not used to playing woman characters -hey how about ur charrie coems to the bar -or tavern- since it seems we're all there?

Yo Ember! Long time no... type!

[Meldawen]

"I win." Jada tried to instill her words with some measure of pleasant surprise, but the attempt fell flat. Gambling was so boring. Even the element of chance that could give it a feeble air of excitement was gone - when you employed subtle magic in order to win, playing dice became a weary pastime. And Jada did.

This is what I've been reduced to, she thought grimly. Cheating intoxicated men out of their wages. Sickening.

Abruptly she rose, pushing the pile of coins back over the table. "Keep them," she grunted, and strode away. These men had children, wives, livelihoods. How had she gone from princess to thief in a blink of an eye? Jada viciously gulped ale, staring at a mounted pair of deer antlers on the wall but not really seeing them. Life was nothing more than a grapple to stay alive, a weary struggle to obtain funds for never-ceasing expenses.

Jada set her mug down with rather more force than was entirely necessary.

[KitiaraBrightblade]

Elaith sat tiredly at the bar, waiting for a man that he regretted having anything to do with. The man he currently worked for, or rather, the man that worked for the man he worked for, was a small rat-like man by the name of Thorn. Every three weeks or so, they'd meet here at the Friendly Mug (a misnomer if Elaith had ever seen one), and Thorn would give him a new target.

Even as Elaith pondered his disgust, he saw with distaste that Thorn was approaching. Elaith motioned for another drink from the bartender. The bartender, clearly nervous at Elaith's presence, set another mug in front of him.

'Why thank you for already ordering for me. I'm constantly amazed at your forethought.' Thorn said with a mock smile, taking the mug. Elaith slapped his hand away.

'It's not for you. This is mine.' Elaith said, taking a large gulp. Thorn took a seat, shaking his head. 'Don't want to talk, Thorn. Just give me the name.' Thorn took the slip of paper from his pocket and gave it to Elaith. Elaith took it with a glare, and taking the hint, Thorn left.

Elaith finished his drink, and opened the piece of paper. His eyes widened only slightly as he read the name. He wouldn't have to do any searching to discover who this person was. Almost everyone knew him. This was a change, not the first time he had killed one, but certainly the first time Thorn had ever requested for him to. A priest? Of the Dark Order, no less. Interesting.

Elaith thought of how easy this would be as his target walked in the door. He had no idea how wrong he was.

[Ember]

He is perfect! The large shadowy screeched out in excitement in a nearby alley as it saw Zealan enter the tavern.

A smaller figure besides the large one, a man in a long dark red jacket "And if you did not notice my lord, he was a necromancer.... It is a dangerous, but well beneficial game that you are about to take part in, if you wish me to deliver him to you."

Are you doubting my power half breed? The large one growled as spit dropped from it`s mouth.

The half breed, Malcar was not at all impressed by the demons threats or lust to feed on powerful souls for he was not Malcar`s true master. Malcar had been granted the task of aiding this hungry fiend in it`s mission to become more powerful and at first it had been child`s play. The demon had been satisfied with ordinary humans and other beings, but now it had grown greedy and wanted to feed more. Malcar doubted that the demon could ever be satisfied, but he would keep feeding the demon as long as his master wanted him to. Now they were about to cross roads with a necromancer and Malcar doubted this would be the wisest course of action.

"Certainly not my lord, but I am only here as a faithful servant with his own recommendations and I am only giving them to keep you out of harms way. As our master would want it to be or do you disagree Zhalbenaz?"

Malcar asked with a clever smile as certainly the thought of going against their very own master was a frightening thought even to one such as Zhalbenaz. The demon growled and made a slash like move with it`s long hand.

Bring him to me

"If that is your will"

Malcar replied calmly before walking across the street and entering the tavern, he looked around quietly like any customer and walked up to the counter to get a drink. He leaned onto the counter as he waited for his drink, the necromancer was not hard to detect due to his clothing...

[Ven]

[...glib glib....why am I the target? to BOTH of you?!?

... ah well prepare to die.

it'd be nice if raist said something since Zealan's next to him but anyway...]

Why were all these people staring at him? Haven't they ever seen a noble, or better, a priest, walk into a tavern?

Okay, noble, maybe, but priest perhaps not.

Yet another reason to hate taverns.

Zealan was already not in a good mood. After walking all the way to this debile tavern with the unfitting name, almost getting his robes and boots smeared with mud, he was met by grubby little dirty hands that besmirched his robes. And this chair was uncomforable - is this what commoners view as comfort? If they do view this as some sort of comfort, then they really are hopeless.

And what with the horrible smell!? People should at least wash themselves every day or two, or even a week, but these... these peasants! They smelled as if they had not washed in years!

Zealan's scowl deepened, as if it could get any deeper, as his gaze locked onto this drunkard across from him. He smelled like a pig farmer. No, worse. he smelled as if he lived with pigs. With a disgusted sign, he looked away.

Zealan took a look around.

At least most of the curious crowd had gone back to their businesses as they should. Oh, some occasionally gave him some looks.

As if he was going to blast or arrest them on the stop and demand sacrifices.

That was left to those below his rank and station.

But two men - they kept staring at him.

Hairs rose on Zealan's neck, and he looked away casually, his gaze lingering on them no longer as it lingered over anybody else.

They he looked back at the drunkard, scowl back on his face.

They would see a spoiled nobleman/priest at complete disgust over this pitiful tavern.

What they didn't see was his silent chant under his breath for protection spells, and the hand movements he made with his left hand as he firmly grasped his staff with his right.

[RaistlinMajere]

At length Knyn scowled and slid the coins across the greasy table, where they were promptly snatched up by excitedly twitching fingers. Curse it, that drunk was shrewd!

Said drunk - what was it... Hoot... Horse... Horsh - grinned up at him, revealing his cracked teeth in all their brown splendor. "More ale?" he offered, raising the mug.

The swordsman's only response was to slam his dirk down on the table, to which Horsh jumped a foot in the air. Steel gray eyes gleaming under his cowl, he sheathed the dirk and stood. With one last cursory scan to ensure the document's authenticity, he made to depart.

This time, Horsh jumped two feet in the air. "No!" he yelped, nearly overturning the table in his desperate grab for Knyn's cloak. Breathlessly he lurched forth and fairly dragged his client back. "I'll... I'll secure a better deal! I'll order wine - I'll order - "

A pity The Friendly Mug didn't serve wine - something the drunk should know full well no matter how intoxicated he happened to be. Knyn's instincts were buzzing, coupled with sheer common sense and his visceral suspicion. "Never touch me," he hissed, once more rising from his seat. His gaze swept over the room. The typical assassins and outlaws. Two probable threats, the first in a conspicuous red jacket by the counter and the second... a priest? Whatever the case, it was high time to exit the scene.

An interesting thump behind him made him whirl around. There was Horsh, unconscious on the tavern floor. Apparently the drunk had knocked his temple on the table in his haste to get up.

Shaking his head in disgust, he turned and strode for the door.

Or began to.

For at that instant the door burst open, admitting no less than half a dozen armed knights of the Empire's Holy Ascendancy. Sword rattling, the captain strode forward, his eyes trained on the table where Knyn and Horsh had been sitting just a moment before. His gaze shifted sharply to the inert drunk on the floor. Anger crossing his stern features, his glare encompassed the entire tavern.

Knyn knew perfectly well whom they were after. He considered making a bolt for it - six knights were not so formidable - before sensing the magic crackling through the air. Concealed mages. Gods, who'd they think he was? But that was it, wasn't it? For everything they knew, he was a capable thief. He could also be a potent wizard or a wily elementalist. In that second the trap became very clear. Had he been sitting across from Horsh as they'd no doubt planned...

As it was, the knight captain now found himself in a sizable predicament. The trap had not been executed as planned, but the quarry could not have left the tavern. Which left him only one option.

"All of you are under arrest by decree of the Holy Ascendancy," he declared over the stunned silence. "If you be innocent, you will be detained until proven so. If you be guilty, fear for your life." He signaled his men, who began moving into position to secure the exits.

[Ven]

Zealan gave a haughty sniff, but did not lower his protection spells.

That mercenary - or that man in the red jacket - or that other man with the sword who was staring at him. Those were the most suspicious.

Oh, and, to the knights, Zealan himself as well.

Great. Just Great.

Couldn't this day get better?

Zealan wasn't about to be detained and questioned like some common peasant. He had better things to do with his time.

Like having his robes washed, for one.

Zealan got up, his soft blonde hair flowing, and he put on the hood of his robes.

He said quietly to the lead knight, "I will not tolerate this insolence, soldier. I demand to know what is going on, or you will hear very soon from your betters."

Exposing every last shred of his anonymity, if he had any to begin with, he added, "The son of the Head of the Dark Order is not one to be crossed easily. Nor is he to be crossed without consequences. Am I understood?

"Captain?" Zealan added as an afterthought.

[Meldawen]

Jada had every intention of making a quick departure. When this began to look a task of mounting difficulty, she abandoned that plan. Obviously everyone in the tavern wasn't being arrested because they were all guilty...so they must know a criminal was in here, but not be quite able to identify him on sight.

A sudden thought, spawned by her paranoid side, occurred. She was in hiding. She was dressed as a boy, which meant they wouldn't know her on sight. Could it be her?

Still no escape likely. Jada stiffened, fingers dancing uneasily round the rim of her mug. Tense, this.

[Ember]

Malcar`s hands dropped into his pockets when the guards entered and he turned to look at them with a disturbed face, his plans weren`t going well. Yet perhaps he could get some contribution from this all by scorching them all alive, his eyes flashed and a fire woke inside him. It burned his veins and flesh until it formed to his palms that were hidden in his pockets. One of the knights approached him with a suspicious face and sword at hand.

"Show your hands commoner"

He ordered and a large grin formed on the face of Malcar.

"Must I? I don`t like showing them when they are on fire." Malcar complained innocently.

"What?"

The knight asked, checking whether he heard Malcar correctly. At that moment Malcar grabbed the man by a piece of cloth that was reachable from a crack in the armor. The fire in Malcar`s right palm spread to the knight`s clothing underneath the armor and soon the knight was a burning tin can running around. The left palm acted right after that along with Malcar`s legs and sent a fiery bolt whirling at the knights blocking the entrance. The plated knights moved aside in fear of suffering the same fate as their poor fellow who was currently setting new fires into the tavern. By then Malcar had almost reached the entrance and he rushed from the door into the night outside with his red jacket flapping on his heels. Over the sounds of the city, his boots and breath, he could hear the angered shouts of the knights

[RaistlinMajere]

The knight captain's face registered suitable surprise at the "priest's" title. The Dark Order was not an auspicious cult, but it was one most feared. But then he had a much more pressing issue on his hands, as the tavern had just caught fire and a most suspicious magic-user endeavored a flashy departure. Prudently he halted his men before they could follow. This target was far above their heads, and he already knew the Empire's mages were in hot pursuit. Frustration surged through him - he very well could have just let the thief escape.

But then again, perhaps not. A vast number of suspicious subjects still remained in the tavern, and this time there'd be no room for fortunate escapes.

Amidst the flames and pandemonium Knyn was just considering a bolt through the kitchen, when the very air rippled with magic. The unseen mages still in the room blasted away at the licking flames with water jets. An unwitting thug attempted to slip out a window but fully encountered a magical wall.

"Let's try this again," the captain announced dryly. "A sleep spell will now render you immobile. Should you resist, you shall find yourself waking with a most unpleasant headache."

Ever obstinate, Knyn resisted anyway. And ever predictably, he dropped comatose to the floor regardless of his valiant efforts.

[Meldawen]

Jada slumped over the table, ale spilling from her overturned mug. She had resisted, and strenuously, but her magic was rudimentary and far different in technique from this, and it had gleaned her a pathetic three seconds of panicked wakefulness. Colors melded into a hazy blob and then disappeared altogether, and she had one moment to hope her actual gender was not discovered before her mind shut down altogether,