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The Mourning After (Horror) (IC)


Possibly a Idiot.
"The criminals of Sharn are dead. Just like the rest of the world. The entire outside world, just another one of Her Majesty's lies." Callia responds, and for the first time, you can sense emotion, a long burning anger, behind her cool demeanor. "All of our sentiment, our families, our very memories, being used as a tool to control everyone. Like a carrot on a stick."

The stone on the desk glows a cool blue in contrast to the woman's building rage. It seems Callia is one of the few who has given up hope for a return to Eberron. Vesile looks to the group, as if to ask if now was the right time to let the cat out of the bag.

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"OK. It seems it cannot wait then." Ozzar sighs "Look at us. The dwarf in the corner. Me. Those two elves behind." the guard gestures not bothering to separate the elf subspecies.
"Don't you think we look a bit too healthy for this world. And I tell you, The Mists are just as real from our side as from yours. Except it's not just Metrol that is lost, but Cyre. Three days ago, I was patroling the streets of Sharn. Two days ago, I was investigating Vadalis mage-farm. And ended up in Metrol prison with some monstrosities they are breeding for your ruler. Since then, we're on the run." He takes a deep breath "I'm sure among four of us, we can scrounge up an item or two that will prove the story. Or you can call a priest to verify this. I was really hoping we could get a proper food and rest before spilling this. But Vesile here needs help. Yelisha here needs more help. And we...we're here to offer help and find a way to return to our world. Or even to reintegrate Cyre. Somehow. How's that for one life's goals, huh?"
Ozzar was leaning forward more and more and at the end, he is standing with his fists firmly on the table, leaning toward Calia.
"So, what will it be, hon?"

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