[AU] Stone Bones

[Erekose13]

Phaern Starspike, spryte magister

Phaern flips his book back to the first page of notes that he has written about the quest. Then he moves the book in front of Leesea and says, "Here have a look through my notes. From here on in everything I have written is about our dream and our quest. Let me know if any of this clicks with the special training that you have received." Slightly distracted by another learned mind wanting to see his finds, Phaern missed Darthallys exit. He does notice Wil exit though and shakes his head a moment before turning back to Leesea.

 

[dead_radish]

*Kelthet keeps his head down (literally and figuratively) after his comments, and doesn't look up as Dar leaves. He does glance at Atlas once, assuming the Giant would know him best, and would be a good indicator of whether they should worry or not.*

*When Wil asks his mumbled questions, Kelthet shrugs.* "He is part of this. He'll be back. But you could talk to him...."

 

[rangerjohn]

*Kelthet keeps his head down (literally and figuratively) after his comments, and doesn't look up as Dar leaves. He does glance at Atlas once, assuming the Giant would know him best, and would be a good indicator of whether they should worry or not.*

*When Wil asks his mumbled questions, Kelthet shrugs.* "He is part of this. He'll be back. But you could talk to him...."

*Atlas does have a concerned look on his face. But he does not follow.

 

[Corinthi]

*Struggling against darker urges, Darthallys stalks away from the tavern, his hackles rising slowly along the back of his neck until they more resemble quills than fur. Animals shy away from the enraged mageblade as he passes, so palpitable is his aura of fury. Darthallys track's one mangy cur's retreat with his dark, bloodshot eyes. His eyes narrow slightly at the dog's flight.*

*Upon entering the blacksmith's shop, he waits for a pause between hammer strikes to call out,* "Smithy!"

*The hammering continues for a few moments more, then there is the hiss of steam. Shortly, thereafter, a heavyset man in a long leather apron walks into the front of the shop. A human who could be mistaken as a giant, the smith is burly and scarred from his life before the forge.* "Whaddya want?"

"Spikes, a hammer, and some chain. And a few metal flasks if you have something that intricate." *Darthallys manages to reply civilly.*

*The smith stews for a moment on the order, then spews a stream of brownish spit off to the side and resumes chewing some noxious root.* "Ayuh, I reckon I can manage the first part, but don't keep flasks on stock."

*Darthallys nods, both unsurprised and visibly repulsed by the man's spit.* "I did not entertain high hopes. Please, gather the goods and I'll be done with this malodorous place."

*The smithy's face darkens somewhat, then he replies with a sarcastic tone.* "Well, I'm sorry my shop disappoints you, m'lord. Mayhaps you should have had your boy come by in your stead, seeing as my place is beneath your standards."

"Today...today of all days is no time to test me, Human. Today, I've already accepted an insult so terrible it blackens my heart from a man I'd have died for. This is after I'm feeling unwell from a night of overconsumption. I recognize that you are a man of pride and some degree of skill. That's why I'll give you this one warning." *Darthallys looks up at the smith, eyes blazing with unconcealed rage and lips curling up to reveal snarling teeth.* "Do not test me again today, or I will bury your remains inside your forge so that you will still be able to provide your family one final meal!"

*Darthallys pauses and straightens, reaching up to smooth the fur around his muzzle.* "Now, gather me my goods and I will pay you handsomely for the trouble. Then I will leave, never to visit you again."

 

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

For those that go to Lykis...

*You go over to the east side of town, the midmorning sun burning on your backs. The smell of baking bread and pastries fills the air as you draw closer to your destination. Lykis' place seems rather modest, nothing more than a curio and bookshop, looking old and dusty. You duck inside, as the door is low, though the ceiling inside is nearly ten feet high. Shelves full of dusty little knicknacks and stranger things cover the walls. Small toys, strange rocks, odd plants, statues, small weapons, and other oddities can be seen. Along the back wall is a dusty bookself, haphazardly crammed to capacity. There's a small counter in the back corner, covered with paper, books, quills, and inkpots.*

*On a ladder in front of the bookcase is a young human woman wearing a long, sturdy canvas skirt, boots, a blue blouse, and a multicolored shawl. She seems to be trying to rearrange some of the books, occasionally reaching back to brush her long black hair out of the way.*

At the smithy...

*The blacksmith glares at you for your insult.*

"Jess because you had a bad night doesn't give you leave to threaten to kill any man who doesn't jump to please you. You probably could kill me easy, boy, but that'd set the Watch on you for life. You don't know what they do to murderers in this town, or you would've watched your sour tongue!" the blacksmith snarls back, holding his hammer loosely. "I'll be accepting your apology right quick, or I'll be calling the Watch to break some heads."

 

[Corinthi]

At the smithy...

*The blacksmith glares at you for your insult.*

"Jess because you had a bad night doesn't give you leave to threaten to kill any man who doesn't jump to please you. You probably could kill me easy, boy, but that'd set the Watch on you for life. You don't know what they do to murderers in this town, or you would've watched your sour tongue!" the blacksmith snarls back, holding his hammer loosely. "I'll be accepting your apology right quick, or I'll be calling the Watch to break some heads."

"Sharp tongue," Darthallys corrects with a growl as he reaches for he blade, but just as his fingers touch the hilt and that jolt of rapturous energy jolts up his arm he pauses. He stops, then steps away from the blacksmith, eyes widening slightly.

"I'll be damned. They're right. I...I am a beast."

*Darthallys looks up to the blacksmith,* "Call the watch if you will, but I'll trouble you no more." *The sibeccai snatches the pouch from his side and tosses it over toward the larger human.* "For your troubles."

*Barring interuption, the mageblade turns and leaves the shop.*

 

[rangerjohn]

*Struggling against darker urges, Darthallys stalks away from the tavern, his hackles rising slowly along the back of his neck until they more resemble quills than fur. Animals shy away from the enraged mageblade as he passes, so palpitable is his aura of fury. Darthallys track's one mangy cur's retreat with his dark, bloodshot eyes. His eyes narrow slightly at the dog's flight.*

*Upon entering the blacksmith's shop, he waits for a pause between hammer strikes to call out,* "Smithy!"

*The hammering continues for a few moments more, then there is the hiss of steam. Shortly, thereafter, a heavyset man in a long leather apron walks into the front of the shop. A human who could be mistaken as a giant, the smith is burly and scarred from his life before the forge.* "Whaddya want?"

"Spikes, a hammer, and some chain. And a few metal flasks if you have something that intricate." *Darthallys manages to reply civilly.*

*The smith stews for a moment on the order, then spews a stream of brownish spit off to the side and resumes chewing some noxious root.* "Ayuh, I reckon I can manage the first part, but don't keep flasks on stock."

*Darthallys nods, both unsurprised and visibly repulsed by the man's spit.* "I did not entertain high hopes. Please, gather the goods and I'll be done with this malodorous place."

*The smithy's face darkens somewhat, then he replies with a sarcastic tone.* "Well, I'm sorry my shop disappoints you, m'lord. Mayhaps you should have had your boy come by in your stead, seeing as my place is beneath your standards."

"Today...today of all days is no time to test me, Human. Today, I've already accepted an insult so terrible it blackens my heart from a man I'd have died for. This is after I'm feeling unwell from a night of overconsumption. I recognize that you are a man of pride and some degree of skill. That's why I'll give you this one warning." *Darthallys looks up at the smith, eyes blazing with unconcealed rage and lips curling up to reveal snarling teeth.* "Do not test me again today, or I will bury your remains inside your forge so that you will still be able to provide your family one final meal!"

*Darthallys pauses and straightens, reaching up to smooth the fur around his muzzle.* "Now, gather me my goods and I will pay you handsomely for the trouble. Then I will leave, never to visit you again."

OOC: Please accept my apologies, if this bothered you, Corithi. I was jesting as I assume Darthallys was when calling Atlas an ox.

 

[Jaws]

Wil

*On a ladder in front of the bookcase is a young human woman wearing a long, sturdy canvas skirt, boots, a blue blouse, and a multicolored shawl. She seems to be trying to rearrange some of the books, occasionally reaching back to brush her long black hair out of the way.*

*Wil has Leesea lead the way. Then he clears his throat.*

"Good morning, Miss."

*Wil waits until she turns and looks at us before he continues with a smile.*

"Could you please inform Lykis that Mrs. Leesea Elmsbreath and company seek knowledge."

This place is quite interesting. I wonder how old this mojh is. Maybe we should come up with a cool adventuring group name. How about Wil's...

*Wil lost his train of thought as he looks upon the young woman with the long black hair.*

 

[Erekose13]

Phaern flits in with Leesea, Wil and the others, having on trouble navigating the small doorway as it is still quite large for him. He takes a good look around while Wil converses with the clerk, coughing a few times as his wings disturb some of the dust. During the wait, he will peruse the shop particularily the book shelves and the some of the tiny knick knacks.

 

[dead_radish]

*Per usual, Kelthet enters last, behind the rest of the group. He surveys the room upon entering, noting anything out of the ordinary, then stands near the doorway, letting the more outgoing members of the group deal with things. As he stands there, he sings quietly to himself, and an eldritch flickering alternatively surrounds him and disappears. He pays little attention to the actual discussions going on.*