Dark Corner ...the gathering

[Pintel]

mage armor? kinda

Pintel just watched with a blank stare as the Ogre turned toward him gagging. Quickly the mage raised an energy force to shield him self in case of attack. As the deplorable brute hacked up his meal, Pintel smirked as flesh and sinew flew from his jowls. The bits and pieces stopped in mid-flight before him as if they had hit an invisible wall then fell harmlessly to the floor boards.

 

[Theda the Thief]

tension rises

Theda leans her chair back on two legs as she guzzles down the last of her ale. She is engrossed in watching the exchange between the magic users as well as the table manners of the Ogre. “Now we have ourselves a show!” she quips as a wide grin attaches it self to her face. Inwardly though she ponders what the wizard Astaroth could want with her talents.

 

[kalrisa]

The door pushes open with a creak. The spear maiden, Kalrisa, steps through on silent feet although the tap of her spear is heard easily as it settles to rest aside her foot when she pauses inside the door. Her eyes take the time to settle their evaluating glance 'pon every visible patron as she shifts under her dirty travelling cloak. Finally she moves from the doorway and to the bar, still only the tapping of spear on floor can be heard as she moves. Speaking quietly to the golem she orders a glass of water. She ponders as she sips...I hate it when I'm late...

 

[JT Klasky]

Just as Jeriseán takes a seat with this rabble the odd mage appears. As he makes his declaration against the wizard JT slowly reaches his hand down grasping the hilt of his sword. Mage or not, I bet he still bleeds. …the sergeant of the guard muses as he turns in his seat to face Pintel. Before things seem to get serious, the half-Ogre spits up his food at him appearing to make a fine mess. Jeriseán can not hold his tongue as he let’s out a few snickers before noticing the mage has evoked some sort of shield thus preventing Coldstone’s mouthful of mutton to strike him. Swiftly the fighter kicks out his chair and draws steel.

 

[Nazrukh Darkfist]

Nazrukh started to reach for his sword, which was still leaning against the wall where he placed it, when Coldstone help defuse the tension a bit. But when the fighter jumped to his feet with bared steel the Barbarian once more went for his blade. “Alright fancy pants…back off!” Nazrukh whipped his blade from its scabbard and stood poised to attack.

 

[coldstone]

Suddenly the table clears, as cold stone gathers himself. He looks up, everyone at the table is clutching a weapon.He himself finaly reacts , and as he stands he cracks his head on the beem directly above him.He lets out an earth shaking roar, taking a step or two backwards; practicaly sitting on the two hobbits near by. As he falls he crashes right through there table. At this piont there is A bright flash and a sound like the crack of A wip,and?

 

[Nazrukh Darkfist]

?

The Barbarian watches his friend fall to the floor just missing a pair of Halfling’s. He looks toward Astaroth for some sign of what is expected of him …is this what he was called for? …to kill a sniveling mage?

 

[Pintel]

bye bye...4 now

Pintel watches from behind the safety of his magic as this troupe of misfits display their pitiful show of arms. He sets his gaze once more to Astaroth as he eyes the orb… “So be it then …my work for now is done with you, but take this warning to heart…you have not seen the last of me.” The mage backs away as he slowly disappears from view as if he was but a vapor.

 

[kalrisa]

Kal turns halfway about, eyeing the motion in the corner with a somewhat distasteful look. Her motion continues, with a crack of her spear on the floor as the mage vaporises. Perhaps I am getting lax she broods over her water. Once more she stares at the collection in the corner coolly quirking her lips into what only could be called a sadistic smile. Still silent she watches, twitching only at long intervals to blink. Two swords...I wonder at the need for both and only one spear.

 

[The Grey Sentinel]

As the mage disappears into the shadows, Astaroth removes his hand from the glowing orb around his neck.. The sphere looses its radiance as it falls back against his chest upon which he quickly covers within his robe. “Sorry for that interruption, but I guess the Archmage has tipped my hand a bit.” Astaroth retakes his seat and sips some wine from his goblet. He then looks up with a most apprehensive gaze… “We are to move against “Shadowhorn” …the legendary stronghold of valor now corrupted by ill will and iniquity.”