Leap of Faith

[Guest Carlyan the Wise]

OOC: This is an RP that I devised a while back... I do realize that there are several going on right now already, and if you're too busy, that's fine-- you don't have to join. For those who wish to, go ahead and make up a marketplace scene at the end of the first post... you'll understand when I finish this long, long, long... long introduction.

 

LEAP OF FAITH

 

Carlyan knelt in the temple of his God and Goddess—Wilthelas, God of Wisdom and Knowledge, and Alianna, his wife—Goddess of Truth and Justice. He worshipped both equally, as all of the followers of the Lord and Lady did. They held the wisdom to see what was right above all else, and the knowledge of how to bring justice to the world was their gift. Each Priest of the two was versed in law, and was often called upon in the place of a solicitor, if they couldn’t afford one. Therefore, priests and clerics who worshipped the Lord and Lady of Wisdom and Justice were held in high esteem, and respected on levels similar to that of the Lords of court—if they were high enough in the religious hierarchy.

 

Carlyan Nemen, High Priest in the Temple of the Lord and Lady Wilthelas and Alianna in Kingsborough, was the third-highest-ranking priest of their order. Only the high priest in the capital city and the Archpriest himself out ranked him in popularity and political influence, and he recognized his position—and despised it. Although he truly believed in Alianna and Wilthelas, he didn’t want the political hubbub that went with his position—what he wouldn’t give to be an under-priest again. Only the reminder that he was setting an example that priests must hold their positions in piety, and not for the political influence that they brought kept him from resigning. The lady swore him to bring justice to this world, and he would do so—including in the order of priesthood itself, if it was the last thing he did.

 

Wilthelas exalted, I pray for the knowledge and wisdom to see at all times what the end result of my work on this earth will be. Alianna exalted, I pray that you will guide my tongue in fighting for truth to be spoken in the corrupt orders of the Lord and Lady’s representatives. In your two names I pray and hold those names above all others. For Knowledge, for Wisdom, for Truth, and for Justice. Correciul, Zennebar.

 

The last two words he muttered were the secret names of the God and Goddess—the names that only the priests of his order were allowed to hear or speak. He made the sign of the two—both his hands made into fists at the center of his chest—and rose…

 

And found two men waiting for him in the high priest’s chambers.

 

“How dare you enter the sanctuary of the High Priest of the Lord and Lady?! Explain yourselves immediately!”

 

“Calm yourself, Carlyan. It’s me.” The man speaking stepped out from the shadows, and was perfectly calm—it was Devaberyl Elderose, and old friend of his, and an elven ranger. “The messenger here wanted to speak to you immediately, let alone permeate your private quarters, but I restrained him… no man a live would dare disturb a High Priest of Wilthelas and Alianna…”

 

Carlyan smiled, and reached out to hug his old friend, and took the scroll the messenger was holding. “Make yourselves at home. Find a chair, any chair,” he said, far more hospitable now that he knew he wasn’t dealing with some heathens from the street. While Devaberyl didn’t follow the Lord and Lady, he was as honest as honest could be, and Carlyan trusted him completely.

 

As he unfolded the scroll and started to read, he found a chair, and collapsed into it… the scroll read as thus:

 

High Priest and Cleric Carlyan Nemen of Kingsborough:

 

I am writing this letter by request of the High King himself, partially. His Majesty has asked me to select a priest from among the ranks of the Lord and Lady’s true followers to investigate the matter I will describe to you herein. I believe that you are the one for the task, as you have fought so strongly to rid our order of the corrupt and criminal. It is with great confidence that I submitted your name to His Highness, and with the same confidence that he approved my nomination. It is with the High King’s grace and favor that you are to complete this task, and His Grace has consented to write to you the enclosed letter of purpose, giving you all speed and aid any of his vassals can afford. The task is as follows:

 

Several of the His Majesty’s Standing Army men have been killed on the border of our realm, by a means that no man that we have contacted can identify. Their skin has been mutilated into horrendous deformations in some cases, as well as other occurrences where the remains of the bodies have been only partially found, to His Majesty’s wise men’s confusion and dismay. Your task is to discover the reason behind these attacks, the offender themselves, and what weapons were used to create such casualties as have resulted. You may choose any party members you wish to accompany you on this task, and May you have the Lord and Lady’s favor on your quest. Wilthelas and Alianna go with you.

 

Yours truly,

 

Archpriest Luther Muriel,

Order of the Lord and Lady, and

King’s Own Solicitor

 

As he finished reading, he looked up at Devaberyl and the courier in confusion. Why had he been chosen for this quest? Why had the Order been involved at all? And why, by Wilthelas’ scroll, had it been him?

 

“If you’ll excuse us, Herald, we’ve got plans to make,” said Devaberyl, and Carlyan looked at him in confusion.

 

We’ll discuss it in a minute… I don’t feel comfortable mindspeaking it all to you, so just wait… it’ll be easier if I talk aloud: Devaberyl thought to him; the two were mal-enedra, or mind-brothers. They had had the ability to mindspeak and feel each other’s thoughts for as long as Carlyan could remember—it had happened when he had saved Devaberyl’s life, long, long ago. Carlyan had come upon the fight in the woods…

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

There was a scream… a male scream, and it sounded as if he were in pain. ‘Run! Run!!’ I told my legs, and finally they found action. I charged through the trees to where I thought I had heard the sound, and I came upon them then. There was a host of the undead fighting a single elf, and the elf was badly beaten up. A lich had found it’s mark on a ranged attack, the elf had collapsed. The zombies were closing in on him, and Carlyan sprang into action before he realized he was doing it.

 

“Zennebar han on turio un juzi met don!” I exclaimed, and there was a blinding flash of light. The undead had screams of pain, and then simply fell to the grown, where they turned to ash. I stopped for a moment, making sure that there had been only undead attacking the elf, and that I had turned them all already, before approaching the fallen elf. He was sputtering blood, and I only hoped that I could heal him sufficiently before he went to the dark gates. I concentrated on the light of my mana, and poured it into him. When I had used all of that, I poured my own life energy into the elf, trying to save him at all costs…

 

“Come on,” I said, shaking slightly, when I had poured all that I could afford to spare of my life energy into him without killing myself in the process… Alianna, lend me your light of Justice… this elf does not deserve to die this day—make your will be done, I prayed silently, and I felt my energies restored suddenly…

 

And he was healed. I suppose it was because I had used some of my own life-energy to help him hold onto life, and we were mal-enedra ever after.

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The courier left, and Devaberyl and Carlyan were left alone.

 

“Why was I chosen, Devaberyl, and what does this have to do with the Order of the Lord and Lady in the first place? And what in Wilthelas’ Library was he thinking choosing me?!”

 

“Calm yourself, brother. Luther held a little conference with me before he allowed the courier and myself to depart. He wants you to be his successor… no one in Capital has what it takes to be Archpriest, he says, and he needs to convince the King that you can do the best job of anyone… you had to be the one to go so that he could give you a clear recommendation to become the next Archpriest and King’s Own Solicitor.

 

“Great. Now I missed the part where this concerns Alianna and Wilthelas.”

 

“No one else can figure it out. You read the letter, and it said that no one could figure out what killed the men—but part of the story wasn’t told. No one who’s gone out to investigate has come back—the only information they have has come by pigeon after one of the scientists had investigated the area… he was killed shortly after, by the same means. The High King wants even more confidence put into the Order, and frankly, he agrees with Luther. He wants you to be the next Archpriest, but he has no confidence in stating that so far. He needs you to prove yourself here, Carlyan… and it would be wise if you would take the mission, if I do say so myself.”

 

“Oh, great. Just great. I have to leave the comforts of my temple and trek out to the Godforsaken borderlands, and investigate some stupid murders. By Alianna’s Sword! I don’t want to go, dammit all!”

 

“Be calm, mal-enedra… we have to be calm. I’ll be there with you, along with anyone else you wish… but I wouldn’t recommend bringing Laurelye along on this quest. I know, I know she can fight, but this isn’t exactly the sort of thing you want the High Priest’s wife to see. Anyone else you want, but not Laurelye.”

 

“Fine. We’ll go. We’ll make a good start on it, and go today, by Wilthelas’ Scroll. I need you to go down to the market and collect some herbal remedies to replenish my stores—if I run out of mana on the trek, we’re in deep trouble if I don’t have my herbs. And see if you can’t find some damned mercenaries or something of the sort… you know whether they’re good or not.”

 

“As you wish, mal-enedra," he muttered, as he walked out the door to the sound of Carlyan’s own mutterings… what a way to become Archpriest.

[Vlad]

OOC: I hope I can find time for this one too... I've already stopped reading other threads...

 

IC: A dark colored booth was nustled away between a weapons shop, and a fruit stand. The sweet smell of insence emminated from the small stand. Various trinkets were hanging in and around the shop, many of which had slight magical qualities. A dozen different brews bubbled from their vials. These items were meant to amuse and entertain, nne of them had real power. Save one, a thin vial, with a steaming red goop was a draught of kings. It would heal all of your wounds, replenish your magical stores, vitalize your energy, cure you of many conditions, even give you heightened senses for some time. But this all came at a terrible price. After the potion wore off, you would drained of life, on the brink of death, until you had another potion that is. One evil creature had become quite succesful off of these potions. He would make them, then sell them to the local citizens of a town, moving on after a few weeks. That man was a vampire.

 

Vlad was that vampire. He stood behind his booth, using subtle magics to lure people in. He studied all of his potential customers, and settled on an elf. He manipulated the scents aromating away from the various potions, awaiting for his next victim to approach.

[Guest lumpenproletariat]

The outsider pulled the hood further forward, to cover more of his face, he could not afford to be seen in this daylight, in this city.

He watched as a uniformed courier left the Temple of Alianna and Wilthelas, and he knew who would come out next, sure enough, the…Elf and the priest known as Carlyan exited, and the outsider followed them, knowing enough about Elven tracking techniques to not be noticed by the Ranger. As they entered the market square, he saw that they were inadvertently being drawn towards a shop - much against their knowing, for the shop was owned by a vampire, one known to the hooded stranger as Vlad, also one of particular infamy.

The stranger knew the Vampire was almost due to move onwards, but he could not afford for Carlyan to be drawn into the Vampires power...the Elf however - he would leave him behind if he could. Yet as quickly as the thought had entered his consciousness - he remembered that the two he followed were mind-brothers, if one was affected by the virulent power of the vampires potions, the other would be too, as the maladies of the potion affected the mind. Yes, now was the time...

He made sure his hood was hiding his visage from view, and quickly approached the two mind-brothers.

"Carlyan, stop!"

The priest spun around, and immediately made himself ready for defense, but the stranger continued

"I am no enemy, I have been sent by the Archpriest to aid you, for he knew you would take this mission." Carlyan withdrew slightly, but Devaberyl sniffed, then snorted and said,

“Taint! I can tell the words you speak are true, but nonetheless, who are you, Dark-Elf?”

"You are ‘smart’ Elf” he retorted, “I am called Vasirún above surface, and I keep myself concealed as this city is...not so lenient towards my people, though I have long renounced our more common ways, and seek,.....what I seek..., above ground, yes."

It was obvious to all that he had left something unsaid, but the two didn't pry. "Carlyan" Vasirún continued, "It isn't safe for you to be in the market place right now, I fear you have already been marked Elf, and this could cause unseen consequences..." Devaberyl interrupted

- "Marked by whom" he said with a sneer to Vasirún, who was quick in replying one word "Vlad". At once Devaberyl understood, and grabbed Carlyan by the arm, and was already leaving, with Vasirún following behind, wearing a look that suggested he was doing his best to be patient…

 

 

OOC: Later we can start a greenroom ooc thread, but for now...

Btw, I'm "playing" the part of Vasirún here

[Guest Carlyan the Wise]

OOC: Aye, I don't have access to greenroom yet, but if someone wants to start one for me, that'd be fine. Thanks for posting, Lumpen, and Vlad as well.

 

IC:

 

Carlyan eyed Vasirùn curiously... :It is strange that the Archpriest would send a dark elf to aid us on this quest, don't you think?: Carlyan asked Devaberyl questioningly mind-to-mind, : Are you sure he speaks the truth?:

 

:Unfortunately, either his powers of lying are beyond my (quite astute, as you know) powers of discerning truth from falsehood, or he speaks the truth. I didn't invoke the truth spell, but I believe him,: Devaberyl replied with even an outward frown.

 

Carlyan took everything into account, including the strange pull he felt towards one of the shoddier shops an the street, and the other strange urge he fell to get away from it. He indulged the latter, and took Vasirùn in tow, before stopping and having a thought of how to test whether or not Vasirùn was sincere.

 

"Vasirùn, I have a strange idea. I've left something back at the temple, won't you accompany us? This is, after all, the preparation for our journey. I insist. "

 

:What are you thinking?!: demanded Devaberyl, but as he mindspoke to Carlyan, he bore no expression on his face.

 

:The temple has wards against evil. If he is a changed being, I have no problem allowing him to follow us on our journey. If he isn't, then the wards will keep him out of the temple, and we will be safe from him... or we can cleanse him. One of the two. It is your turn to be calm, mal-enedra. This is my element: Carlyan replied, and he lead the way to the temple.

[Guest Tamaranis]

Odd, this."

 

Vlad had been so caught up in luring Devaberyl that he hadn't noticed a customer approaching of his own will. The man was also elven, but unlike most elves he was dressed somewhat shabbily. His clothes were far too large, needing to be rolled up here and there, they were torn to a small extent as well. He lacked footwear entirely. He didn't appear unwashed, however, indicating he was probably not quite so poor as the average beggar. Further backing up that he was perhaps not quite dirt poor was the sword he wore at his waist. Even though it was placed in a fairly nondescript sheath Vlad could tell that the blade was of great worth by the various stones adorning the handle. Not effective perhaps, but of worth.

 

Vlad watched as the elf positioned his head above the asortment of bubbling liquids and took a deep breath. It seemed too easy, that a victim should fall into his hands like that. Shaking his head as if to clear it of a sudden but slight dizziness, the elf asked, "So what do you have here?"

 

Vlad went into a sales pitch, which was only pretense of course. Money wasn't a problem for him, he was simply trying to keep the elf nearby long enough to gain some influence over his mind. At random Vlad attributed various powers to the assortment of potions laid out before him. This one cured measles, that one brough good luck, this made one a hit with the ladies, that one acted as a magical insurance against the pranks of malicious children. Then he got to the point, the King's Draught.

 

"Its powers are amazing," Vlad confided, "It can heal any wound, cure any malady, increases your strength, bestows magical abilities..." Vlad wasn't exaggerating to a very great extent. The powers of the King's Draught were amazing. He was just neglecting to mention the unpleasant side-effects.

 

The elven man carefully considered what Vlad had told him of the potion. "It cures any malady?"

 

"Assuredly," Vlad grinned, "Why I once used this very same formula to cure a man of a wasting sickness that had kept him bed-ridden for the past three years. His doctors and physicians had said it was hopeless, but I knew better..."

 

"Perhaps..." The man mused, "What are you asking for it?"

 

"Oh, only a paltry sum," Vlad said in an off-hand manner, "How do thirty crowns sound to you?" Normally the King's Draught would fetch a higher price, but Vlad was suspicious that his "customer" might not have even that much money.

 

"That sounds fair to me," The man answered, surprising Vlad slightly. Usually any customer would haggle rather than accept the asking price, and while an influenced customer would accept a higher price, this man had not only resisted Vlad's mental attacks, but seemed completely unaware of them.

 

"Right this way, please," Vlad gestured for the man to enter the booth. It wouldn't do to attack a passer by in a crowd in broad daylight. "The sample you see here is for display purposes only, you see." For a moment Vlad worried that without any mental influences on him the man would think his request suspicious. However he took the request at face value and stepped into Vlad's rather dark and concealing booth.

 

"Strange," The elf said as he gazed around at the darkness, "Doesn't this lighting make it hard to conc..." He cut off as Vlad's fangs tore into his throat.

 

Almost as soon as he started to draw blood, Vlad drew back, spitting. The blood was horrible, it was so acidic that it literally burned him, and there was a hint of something worse even than its corrosive nature in it.

 

For a moment both occupants did nothing but choke and gag, Vlad from the bad blood he had ingested, and the elf from his wound. As Vlad recovered from the wretched fluid he watched the elf clasp his left hand over his wound and grit his teeth as if it suddenly pained him with a greater intensity. In his right hand, the elf drew his sword. Despite the awkward appearance of the grip he didn't seem to have any trouble handling the weapon as he neatly swung it into a defensive position.

 

At this point Vlad noticed two things. The first was that blood ceased to flow from between the elf's fingers, and as he removed his hand it was apparent that the wound had closed. The second thing Vlad noticed was a cruel power in the blade. It held just enough magic to be dangerous to him.

[Vlad]

OOC: Actually Vlad is in it for the money... Kind of a greedy persona, he is, considering that he is already quite wealthy. Well, that and the blood. He needs blood to drink AND make the potion. If it seems that I am god-moding in this a bit, sorry but Vlad is a master of stealth and there are certain limits to his abilities. If you want me to elaborate, I will do so in an OOC thread/post.

 

IC: The blade definetly took Vlad by surprise. Considering the events leading up to it, he thought himself an idiot. One elf isn't lured in, but another just comes. The new-comer agrees to a sum that seems out of his financial reach, and his mind won't be corrupted. This would definetly turn out to be an interesting day, to say the least.

 

Vlad glanced at the trinkets around the booth, his mind racing. From a back shelf he grabbed a couple of rings, and a bag of yellow powder. One ring he put on, the other he dropped into an unseen fold that served as a pocket in his robe. He opened the pouch, and threw a generous handful of powder into the elf's eyes. This was a quite potent blinding powder, not for sale. The dose that Vlad used should have been enough to blind a dragon, but he didn't wait to see if it worked. As he leaped out of the booth he looked up at the sky, and was grateful that night would fall soon. He managed to grab two potions before fleeing, one of which was the King's Draught. The other contained a silky-smooth lime green liquid that he stole off an assassin once sent to kill him.

 

Vlad turned and ran towards the temple. Along the way he stopped by a burly merchant who sold marked cards, weighted dice, and other gambling necessities. "Twenty-five crowns to kill an annoying rat of an elf back there."

 

"Buy something first, then I'll consid- Twenty-five?? Who do you think I am? Some sort of idiot?"

 

"Three for that set of dice, and forty-five for the elf... Think about it... Forty-eight easy crowns." Vlad retorted, all the while influencing the unsuspecting shopkeepers mind. He was prepared to go up to three hundred, but this lug needn't know that.

 

The shopkeeper grumbled in agreeance, insisting he was being generous, and performing charity work. He took the money and staggered out of the stall, turning to face the way from which Vlad came.

 

The vampire repeated this process with several other physically apt men, stopping only when he had spent the three hundred he planned to. As he continued fleeing, he decided to hide in the temple until dusk. He was fully aware of the wards protecting it against evil, but was unconcerned. Upon reaching the holy site, he put on his second ring. It was small and made from ebony, adorned with an emerald and a ruby. This ring casted upon the wearer two stealthy spells. Remove From the Mind's Eye and Remove the Soul's Eye, making Vlad virtually undetectable. He prepared to enter the temple, but turned around and left when he saw a priest and the elf he had failed to lure.

 

Is no place in the world safe? And always accursed elves.

[Guest Tamaranis]

Almok made an attempt to blink the yellow powder out of his eyes, then roared in rage and pain as it began its work. He heard the vampire make his escape and tried to follow, but found that his elven sight no longer allowed him to see in the darkness of Vlad's shop.

 

The poison seemed to gear up for stage two, and Almok fell to his knees, clutching at the searing pain filling his eye sockets. The sword tumbled from his hand. If Vlad had remained to carry on the fight, he would have seen that it was no longer an elf that occupied his shop.

 

After a moment anger caught up with the suffering. The powder had inflicted a great deal of pain and so it was a great deal of anger that matched it. Almok lashed out, and while he couldn't see what he was striking at he could hear glass breaking. Occasionally his claws met resistance and he had to use greater strength to destroy whatever it was he had struck, usually shelves or cupoards.

 

As the pain subsided so did the anger, and Almok's wits slowly returned. He realized he'd made far more than enough noise to attract attention, and that while most people would probably be reluctant to enter Vlad's shop, eventually some one's curiosity would overcome their fear. Concentration returned him to an elf as he fumbled for his sword.

 

Thinking it best to leave before the contents of the countless flasks and beakers he'd destroyed reacted violently, Almok found his way to the door. He knew he was in the light again, he could feel the sun strike him and could smell the difference in the air. Still he couldn't see. The powder had utterly destroyed his sight.

 

The same way he'd repaired his torn throat, Almok attempted to restore his eyes. The searing pain the powder had initially resulted in returned in full force, and it was a struggle to maintain control. Blurred and distorted shapes began to appear, but Almok found he couldn't continue to restore his eyes and maintain this form. As he switched focus to remaining an elf, the shapes slowly became darker and more blurred and distored. The damn poison was still in his eyes!

 

"Hey, elf!" Almok felt hands wrap around his throat and drive him into the wall of the shop he'd just exited. He could barely make out the rapidly fading image of his attacker, but judging from the force being applied to his windpipe, his opponent was considerably strong.

 

It took a moment to locate the exactly where his attacker's wrists were, as he couldn't see. Just as he became unsure how much darkness was the powder and how much was a result of being throttled, Almok got a grip on each of his opponents wrists, his thumb pointing into the inside. He allowed his ruse to slip ever so slightly, and as his thumbs became talons he drove them into his attacker.

 

Almok's attacker cursed in suprised pain, and retreated a few steps. The darkness didn't alleviate any, and Almok was completely blind again. As such he didn't see the powerful punch aimed at the side of his head coming.

 

Almok's mind seemed to protest that the attack had actually happened as he struck the ground. The average street tough should have retreated after being wounded like that. Something extra seemed to drive this person. Almok began to worry that he wouldn't be able to blind fight this madman and keep his form... And the whole market might turn against him if he slipped.

 

Almok tried to get to his feet but received a sturdy kick that bowled him over backwards. For an instant he considered completely abandonning his elven appearance and attempting to disembowl his attacker with a kick of his own. He decided against it and instead drew his sword again. He swung it in a wide arc which proved sufficient to balk his attacker long enough to regain his feet.

 

"Hold him," The shout was accompanied by the sound of a sword being drawn. Almok began to worry that he wouldn't be able to blind fight these two and keep living.

[Guest lumpenproletariat]

Vasirún knew what the Priest had been thinking, - as much as they thought they were incredibly subtle, one could still easily tell when the two were speaking to each other alone, the changes in body language were profound to one such as Vasirún, come from the Underdark where the angle of a hand during a conversation could cause a guild war.

"Lead the way, Carlyan" Said Vasirún with complacency - he knew he had no choice but to go along, at least for now.

As his boot landed on the first Marble step of the grand temple, Vasirún couldn't deny the shudder that went down his back - but he knew he had nothing to fear from these wards, he was no where near being a Crusader, yet neither was he a Dominator, he lived for the blade, and for himself, causing anarchy in a well known temple would just be stupid.

Devaberyl eyed Vasirún as they took the steps up to the door. :Are you happy now, Brother?: he mind-spoke to Carlyan, and Carlyan could tell he was smirking on the inside, yet the statement didn't validate a response, it seemed better to let Devaberyl have his moment.

Vasirún suddenly hunched his shoulders and sniffed - yet nothing attracted his sense of smell, he looked, and listened, all to no avail. Vasirún turned, and could tell that Devaberyl sensed something too. "Carlyan - I can't explain why, but something is here.that.shouldn't.be.here" the Dark-Elf muttered while looking around, cursing his eyes.

:Once again, he speaks truth Brother, I can feel it, yet my senses betray me - I had never known that Dark Elven senses were as keenly attuned as Elven, I think there may be more than meets the eye to our new friend...:

He was strangely interrupted by Vasirún "If you two would stop yapping in silent - ( "Yes, I can tell when you are!" He was forced to add) - You would realise that the presence we felt is moving - therefore it cannot be me! Grab what you left behind Carlyan and let us leave!"

[Guest lumpenproletariat]

OOC

" = speech

: = mind speech

[Guest Carlyan the Wise]

Kasmandre posted,

 

ooc: Hope it's not too late for me to enter...

 

ic: "So there I was, Orcs to the left of me, goblins to the right, a five hundred foot drop at my back, and the Dark Mage Gri'Haol right in front of me, big as life and twice as ugly. It was the moment of truth. A lesser man would have given up right then and there against such odds, but I kept thinking of little Timmy Alen of Derrytown, crying over his dear mother's corpse. I thought of little Timmy and I did the only thing I could..."

 

"You pissed yerself!" a voice called out from the men listening at the bar. Laughter rang out from all directions. Zeke Brakmen got red in the face, more with embarassment than with anger.

 

"You men oughta be ashamed of yerselves!" he shouted above their laughter and catcalls. "I was fighting in the great wars in the Borderlands while yer fathers were still at their mamas' teat!"

 

"I don't know 'bout that!" the heckler shouted, "but I know that yer mama had the best teats in town!" The laughter reached new heights. Zeke put his head down and stared into his ale. Lousy, ungrateful little spunges. he thought to himself. If it wasn't fer me, they might never've been born. But do they care? No, 'course not, they just see an old man, withered by the years. But I bet I could still whip any one of them from here to-

 

But, just then, a rind of bread hit him in the back of the head. "Why don't ya fight against that, ya old bat?" a voice called out.

 

Zeke got up shakily from his stool and started toward the exit. "Uh-oh!! Look out, everybody, the 'Great Warrior's' gettin' up!!" someone shouted.

 

"Yeah, don't upset 'im or he might just piss hisself!!" another added.

 

Zeke grabbed his coat and his sword from the table beside the door and left the tavern, vowing not to set foot in their again, but knowing that he'd be back before the week was out.

 

Despondant, Zeke headed for the Temple of the Lord and Lady, hoping for some peace.

Carlyan the Wise posted,

 

Carlyan had known that there was an intruder a moment before Vasirùn had tried to make him aware of that fact-- only because Devaberyl had told him, but he had known.

 

Immediately, he performed a simple spin, with his arms out, and as he faced the gate again, a huge wave of light streaked towards it-- and stunned an elderly man trying to gain entrance to the temple.

 

"Oh, Lord and Lady, what have I done?" asked Carlyan, knowing that the man would be alright-- but it would cost them valuable time that would be better spent fleeing the temple.

 

Devaberyl sprung into action. He raced to the gate and collected the old man, tossing him over his shoulder, and pulled the gate shut and locked it.

 

"How do you know he's not still inside?" asked Carlyan.

 

"I don't, but I have a feeling that if he is still here, he won't be happy or able to set foot inside the temple-- no evil undead would even be able to cross the threshold-- merely stepping inside the courtyard must have taken guts, but entering the temple-- I highly doubt it."

 

"I agree," said Vasirùn, "and we can't leave the old man just lying at the entrance to one of the most popular temples in the nation."

 

"Alright," announced Carlyan, "here's what we're going to do. Devaberyl, bring the man inside the temple where I can revive him and heal that bump on his head... then, I want you to fetch my underpriest from his sleeping quarters. Vasirùn, I'm going to need you to watch the outside of the temple-- if the intruder isn't undead, and if your senses are on the level of Devaberyl's, he won't be getting by you without a fight. I'm trusting you here-- any treachery will not be forgiven, nor forgotten-- if you catch my drift."

 

Immediately, all three of them sprung into action. Carlyan ran ahead into the main chamber of the temple, and set up a crude area for the man to lay. It wouldn't be comfortable, but it was the best they could muster on such short notice.

 

Devaberyl carried him in, laid him down, and went to fetch the underpriest. Carlyan healed the small wound the older man had gotten in an instant, and was in the process of reviving him when his underpriest, a mousy sort of man named Zackariah, came in. Carlyan didn't look up, but spoke to him the minute he had entered.

 

"Zackariah, I want you to send one of the pages to the Herald's post immediately. Have them send a message to the Archpriest in Capitol. Tell him that we are leaving tonight, and that we've been delayed by some force unknown that has come into our temlpe unseen. Put it in the language of the preists, Zackariah-- I don't want a scandal. We are leaving immediately after I heal and deal with this man-- you're in charge. I want a sentry posted at the entrance of the temple, and I want you to seal my chambers. NO ONE is to get inside them, do you hear me, Zackariah? Good. Now, fetch my staff and cloak, and have one of the stable-boys ready three mounts and a pack-animal, please. Go!"

 

On the last word, the man revived, and looked up. "What? Where am I? What happened-- all I remember is--"

 

"Shh, shh. You're in the temple of Wilthelas and Alianna in Kingsborough. I accidentally stunned you because I thought you were the intruder we were dealing with. You're lucky you weren't undead, or you would be non-existant now. We need to adress what needs to be done with you. The temple will be closing for the night, shortly, and you can't stay here, because I'm going out of town. Do you have a home in the city we can deliver you to somewhere?"

 

"Hurry up in there, Carlyan... I don't like the feeling I'm getting out here," called Vasirùn.

 

: He's right... there's something present... I'm not sure if it's the same thing it was before or not, but there's something here sure enough:, Devaberyl mind-spoke to him.

 

"Well? We need to hurry, and I need to know what to do with you." at this, Carlyan poured a little more healing and vitalizing energy into the old man, willing him to become fully conscious.

 

*Edited for readabiltiy, one extremely annoying emoticon, and a few spelling mistakes*

[Vlad]

OOC:Car, I'll be a villain. (note: not THE villain)

 

As Vlad was leaving the temple grounds, a bright flash sizzled past him. Guess they expected me... There is more than meets the eye here he thought. Vlad paused for a moment, then thanked the Lich King, his parton diety, that it was already night. Not the darkest and deepest part of the night, but still getting dark to the point when shadows became alive.

 

Vlad resolved that he needed to get an ally on his side, if the plan was to progress. Weighing his choices carefully, he remembered the companion of the priest and the elf. The third person in the temple. He would prove invaluable to the cause, if he could be corrupted. That would prove to be a challenge indeed. He was not pious for the light, there was something about him that was unique. Possibly a darker side that man struggled to contain, or maybe he was a servant on a mission, but that could wait to be discovered for later.

 

Then the vampire's mind drifted towards the shopkeepers he passed along the way. None of them would prove helpful. Or if they could, making it so is a long and tedious process. Vlad just didn't have time. He thought of a blithering idiot who was a blade for the highest bidder, but then thought more closly about the word idiot. The only chance he had left for an immediate ally was the elven man who wanted to buy the King's Draught.

 

If this man was still alive, which most likely he was, then it would certainly put a plum in the apple basket. The blindness Vlad could cure, not only with his special draught. He would need to return to his shop, salvage what was not stolen by now. If the man wasn't still there Vlad had ways of finding him. Including the fabled and mysterious theives guild, which was housed in the labyrynth of tunnels under the temple of the city.

[Guest lumpenproletariat]

"Hurry up in there, Carlyan... I don't like the feeling I'm getting out here," Vasirùn yelled into the temple. He didn't bother to say that he had felt the presence leave the temple around the time of the appearance of the old man...maybe they were somehow connected, he idly wondered. Pursing his lithe finger between his teeth, he gazed downwards. He was not our true enemy, he was not worth chasing, I did right to let him go, not bad, a follower of Lloth would've called out, would've caused anarchy, I didn't. He decided with finality that it wasn't worth his time contemplating, resuming his nochalante guard pose, he made sure Carlyan hadn't come out yet and began to hum tunes of his youth to himself.

[Guest Carlyan the Wise]

Kasmandre posted,

 

As Zeke came to full consciousness, a few words resonated through his mind: undead...out of town...adventure...extreme chance of bloody death (some of these words weren't presisely stated...) As soon as he had enough strength to, he sprung to his feet.

 

"Your Holiness, I could not let you go on such a dangerous quest without offering my services. My name is Zeke Brakmen, former commander of a legion of the King himself. I insist that you allow this experienced campaigner to accompany you on your quest. I will not take no for an answer."

 

Carlyan and Devaberyl exchanged a long look. Carlyan briefly considered the possibility that his attack had mentally unhinged the man, then discounted the possibility...at least for the time being.

Carlyan the Wise posted,

 

"Err... Zeke, are you sure you're up to the task? I mean--"

 

"Your Holiness, I've never been more up to anything in my entire life. Aside from that, I've been wanting to taste battle again for years--"

 

"Carlyan, we've got to go!" Devaberyl called out loud, firing an arrow up onto the wall around the courtyard. With a squeal, something fell to the ground outside the temple complex.

 

"Well, you can come, if you insist. Devaberyl! Prepare another mount from the stable. I hate to leave the temlpe with only one horse, but it can't be helped. See to it! Zeke, do you need anything from town?"

 

"I carry my things with me, Your Holiness."

 

"No more 'Your Holiness. Call me Carlyan. I'm not a stickler for titles, just a priest."

 

At this, Zeke smiled, and said, "As you wish, Carlyan."

 

"Vasirùn, come!" Carlyan called, on the way out of the temple. Damn!, Carlyan thought, I've forgotten my staff. :Keep them busy for a moment, Devaberyl. I need to fetch a couple things:

 

With this, Carlyan ran as fast as he could to his chamber, and unsealed the door with a gesture of the Lord and Lady. The door opened before him, and he fetched his staff, as well as a zencor, the holy text of those who follow Wilthelas and Alianna. As an afterthought, on his way out the door, he got a quiver of silver-tipped arrows that never emptied, which had been a find from a ruin down in Reyllan the last time he was there.

 

He stuffed all three items into a traveling pack, and, with a quick look around the room, he exited and re-sealed the door. : --> Send me my mount, mal-enedra,: Carlyan thought again, and The other three riders and pack-animal came charging out of the stables to the entrance of the inner-temple. Carlyan swung up into the saddle. He and Devaberyl charged at the gate, the others looking at them strangely-- the gate was still shut and locked. Devaberyl fired another arrow up at the ramparts, where another man fell, and Carlyan muttered a few words. At this, the gate sprung open, and all five of the horses stampeded out of the complex. As they galloped through the streets of Kingsborough, several people looked at them in wonder-- unmistakably, the hihg priest himself, an elf with a war-bow slung over his back, what appeared to be another one, but shadier, somehow, and an old man-- they made a strange company indeed.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

As the group settled down to camp that night and made preparations for the night-watch, Carlyan had a continuing feeling of dread. He had had this feeling before-- when he had been on active duty down in Reyllan, recruiting people to his faith, they had been ambushed more than once, and Wilthelas had always warned him before-hand then. As such, Carlyan requested that Devaberyl take the first watch, himself the second, and then let Zeke and Vasirùn fight over the next two...

 

They didn't get ten minutes into the first.

 

: --> Mal-enedra, they come!: came the urgent thought, not a second before Devaberyl's bow, Windforce, twanged off a shot. Carlyan fetched his staff, and yelled, "Posts! Vasirùn, I want you to find Devaberyl and coordinate shots. Zeke, we go back to back, somewhere near the other two. I don't know what it is, but I hope you're ready for this." was all he said, before he touched Devaberyl's mind again, and the picture Dev sent him wasn't a pretty one...

 

Orcs...

 

Zombies...

 

a troll...

 

And something that looked suspiciously like a Nether Mage.

[Guest Tamaranis]

Tears and a little blood flowed from Almok's eyes as he strained to correct the damage to them. Nearly unbearable pain lanced through his skull. The darkness danced and swayed, the poorly defined humanoid shapes that were his attackers appeared. Suddenly presented with a target for his anger, Almok nearly lost control again.

 

Metal sang as swords met with great force and rapid succession. The man with the sword retreated slightly, but Almok's attacks were clumsy, and though ferocious, they didn't have as much strength behind them as would have been necessary to overwhelm his opponent.

 

Again a fist struck Almok. It seemed very strange that his original opponent was still participating despite his injuries and the fact that Almok had drawn a sword. Hoping to even the odds a little, Almok spit into what he hoped were the eyes of the swordsman. His venom wouldn't be fully effective unless he revealed himself, but it would still burn. Judging from the scream of pain, he'd lucked out and hit his target's eyes. Hopefully he'd be blind as well.

 

A hand closed around the wrist of Almok's sword arm. Almok felt his hand driven with painful force against some solid object, his vision was rapidly detiorating again and he couldn't tell what it was. The blow was repeated, with greater force. Numbness leapt up Almok's arm, threatening to make him drop his weapon. He knew that blind as he was he wouldn't be able to recover it. Again his wrist was struck, he tried to maintain his grip, but his hand was so numbed he wasn't even sure if he still had it

 

Another set of hands joined in the attack, this time strangling him again. From the way his head was forced upward and presumably away from his attacker's face it was the swordsman he'd blinded and not some new participant in the fray. Almok's free hand curled into a fist and lashed out to no avail.

 

A terrible fear seized Almok, of revealing his nature while under attack. He struggled more to remain an elf and less to escape his assailants. It wasn't working, however. As his mind slipped towards unconsciousness its power to maintain the ruse weakened...

[Vlad]

OOC: "=talk (italics)=think

 

IC: Vlad was returning to his shop, his makeshift home in the city, when he heard intense screams and cries of agony. What in the Lich King's name is going on. And at this time too... When the idea dawned upon him that it could be the elf, Vlad went into a slight trot. As he neared his shop, the screams grew louder, and a pungent odor filled the air. He sped up to a run as worry crossed the vampire's face. Worry about the state of his shop, not the elf.

 

Vlad came into sight of the brutes who he had hired, and more worry seeped in. "Enough," he shouted, "Enough you fools!" He put more force into the last word, making sure the other shopkeepers knew who he was addressing. One looked in the direction from which the sound came, and smiled. "How much is it worth to ya? We'll stop... but this is so much fun!"

 

Vlad's worry was replaced with anger, as he meddled with various minds. No... They are set on killing him. He has brought them too much pain. As his mind considered every possibility, his eyes surveyed the street. A handful were on the ground, unconcious at worst. The rest of the area was void of life.

 

Don't know about angels, but... "It's fear that gives men wings. Fly you cowards, FLY!" Having said these words, he rushed at the men, fangs barred, dagger out, rage awakened. At the last moment before contact he turned into a bat, and flew into his shop. The men had let go of the elf, leaving him to die, and prepared for a new toy, but recieved none. Vlad regained his vampire form behind the cluster of goons, and stabbed one in the back. The rest dissipated, one leaving behind a trail of urine.

 

Vlad went back into his shop, to clean up the mess, ignoring the elf. As the elf was getting up from the ground he heard only one muttered word.

 

Fools.

 

OOC: Tam, feel free to heal yourself using a random potion or some such... Or I will do it tomorrow when I have more time...

[Guest Kasmandre]

Zeke stood back to back with Carlyan, honored to be asked to such a prestigeous position. He kept his eyes on the darkness before him, prepared for the onslaught of evil. He drew his sword, feeling the old rush of adreniline, his sword hand trembling only slightly.

 

Then he saw the zombies. They came out of a patch of darkness that Zeke could have sworn was empty (it must have been darker than he realized; his eyesight wasn't that bad...). Only the slow, shuffling pace of the zombies prevented Zeke from being killed. He sprung into action, his sword whistling through the air as it decapitated one zombie then disemboweled another on the downstroke.

 

His sword moving smoothly and constantly, Zeke cut through the undead horde. Behind him he could hear Carlyan doing...something. Hopefully, he was holding his own, because Zeke had enough to keep him busy without anything else to worry about.

 

Too bad he didn't know about the orcs.

[Guest Tamaranis]

Almok had almost lost consciousness when Vlad intervened. The sudden resumption of blood flow to his head nearly pushed him the rest of the way into darkness. No longer being held aloft by his attackers he fell to his knees, gasping for breath. Regeneration would have been nice, but Almok was more focused on staying an elf, and couldn’t spare any concentration from the task. His sword had long since been discarded.

 

"It's fear that gives men wings. Fly you cowards, FLY!" The voice seemed familiar. Almok knew he’d heard it before, but not raised in anger as it was now. In any case his attackers seemed inclined to obey.

 

It wasn’t until Almok heard some one moving about in a nearby shop, handling mostly glass objects by the sound of it, that he realized it was the vampire that had blinded him who had come to his aid. It seemed odd that the vampire should attack him and now save him, especially considering that the creature was unpleasantly aware of the taint in his blood.

 

After a brief and futile attempt to locate his sword Almok decided to avoid the indignity of scrambling across the ground blindly swinging his arms in an attempt to find the weapon. He’d be likely to lose a finger if he actually located it using that method anyway.

 

After catching his breath and getting a grip on his form he stood up. “What are you up to?” He asked in Vlad’s direction.

[Vlad]

Vlad looked in the direction of the sound. So he's up. About time. He walked towards the elf and studied him. This man is definetly not an elf. An elf would have never survived a beating like that. Amok was groping around for something with his foot while waiting for Vlad to approach. The vampire made sure to remain silent as he came nearer, hoping to keep his visitor from erupting into another rage.

 

"I know you're there. Why have you come back?"

 

Silence.

 

"What are you doing? Dammit, answer me!" Amok knew that risking a fight with the vampire wasn't the smartest thing to do, but by now he didn't care. He felt somebody grab his wrist, and immediately struggled free. Vlad grabbed his wrist again, this time with more force.

 

"Listen. It sucks being blind, so just hold still." Vlad hissed as he brought his face inches away from Amok's. The elf could feel icy breath which sent a shiver through his spine. Complying would be his easiest - and only - option. "Stay here, and don't bother looking for your blade. I'll keep it safe." A sly grin crossed the evil vampire's face.

 

Amok waited patiently for the most part the next few minutes as Vlad went back to his shop, and salvaged what he could of a certain few potions. When Vlad returned, he brought one potion to the elf's mouth, and without much effort it went down. Surprised, Amok was expecting some sort of effect, a poison, or slleping draught, but nothing happened.

 

"That should dull the pain for the next one... I'll let you do it yourself. One gulp hurts less." Having said that, he handed Amok a slightly smaller vial, and stood back.