Stygian Empire: Blackguards

Vythlian opened the doors to the tavern with a heavy push. He stood there and surveyed the patrons before he continued to walk forward. His boots echoed through the room and he sat down at an empty table and faced the others.

He thought to himself, "why have you brought me here?"

His eyes widened perceptibly at the sight of the armored figure. His mind raced as he consider the particularities and -even better- the benefits to be gained from the obediance of such an intimidating figure. "A free golem? Or just a demon-bound fool?" He muttered under his breath.

As he -she?, they?- sat down, he called out to Vythlian, his hand gestures sloshing the wine in his cup perilously. "Dark knight- I am Alaeddin Bey, First Magi of the Tarulan Circle. Who be you- and, who is your master?"

For the second time, the barkeep didn't seem to hear Colm. He stiffened as the Blackguard entered, finally perturbed by one of the strange patrons that entered his establishment this night.

The astral demons bound within Vythlian's plates brought forth no response to his inner dialog, allowing Alaeddin's voice to come through clearly.

edited 19th Jul '14 9:52:59 PM by StygianEmperor

Weyland sipped his wine, more reservedly than before, trying to stall as he considered the others who had gathered in the bar. Save for this new-comer, all had made statements that suggested that they were not Saigar; most likely then, these were the people that Saigar would have him join with. He considered each in turn.

The green-clad and green-skinned woman next to him had so far been a pleasant drinking partner and a pleasent conversationalist, but certainly had fire within her. Yet the exchange of words had revealed something, implying the girl was more than the wood-elf he had supposed she was. Weyland made a note to check his curiosity, as it was evidently a sore spot for the girl.

The black and red clad man seemed to be a bully, plain and simple. Perhaps there was more to it though, a smoldering clan dispute or ill-remembered blood feud between their peoples. Weyland hoped so, as otherwise it would surely be unpleasant working with him.

The hooded man seemed solitary, not even accepting a drink. Should he to take this as a slight, or was the man simply looking for an escape from company in his drink. If the latter, he had Weyland's sympathy; the smith had felt much the same after first losing his hand.

Weyland knew exactly where he stood with the man who had stolen his wine, however. It was only the apparent penury of this First Magi, as he had styled himself, that stopped the dwarf from calling out the thief. Regardless, a thief was a thief, and not to be trusted.

As for the armored man the thief was talking to, the smith was trying to keep an unnoticed eye upon him, lest he turn out to be his secretive employer and prospective information source.

Still keeping an eye on the armored man, he turned to his green-clad and green-skinned drinking partner, who seemed to be trying to talk to the now distracted bartender. "I do not believe I ever caught your name."

Mirana calmly exhaled when the human stole the dwarf's wine and started talking to the person in the armor and skulls. Some sort of savage, completely out of place in this situation - even when compared to her. Either he had the oddest timing or was yet another of the ones summoned by Saigar. Whom she was wondering where exactly he was. At this point it wouldn't have surprised her if he had been the bartender all along, keeping tabs on them.

"No, you didn't," she replied to the dwarf. "It's customary in situations like this to first answer what you wish to ask, I'd imagine." She finished off her mug. "Well now I know what the wine tastes like," she added. "But I've yet to sample the grog."

Weyland inclined his head. "Aye, forgive my lack of manners. I am Weyland, famed in song as 'Weyland Ironhand'." He flexed his prosthetic hand, demonstrating where the name had come from, as he too finished off his wine. Sighing, he continued, "If by famed, one means in one song, sang only once, when the bard was drunk, and as soon as she was sober, she swore never to sing it again." A sad smile crept over the dwarf's face. "Good times, those were."

"Mirana," Mirana answered, looking at the maimed dwarf's hand. "Interesting machine you have there," she stated, not phrasing it like a question but letting the sentence hang.

"Ale," she said to the barkeep, setting her mug down in front of him. "This evangelist have a reward for his head from the guards? Know anything more about him?" She asked not because she felt the need to do some mindless errand for a few coins at the moment, but because he might know things about the Empire that most common folk wouldn't - or that they knew and wouldn't want to say out of fear.

Snatching the mug of grog from the table, Devlin sipped it at a steady pace, not wishing to down it all in one go. It wasn't particularly nice, but it hydrated him nonetheless. He almost spitted it out when he saw the blackguard entering the bar. Discreetly raising his shawl to cover the lower part of his face, Devlin was suddenly upright and ready to run if need be. He wasn't sure if this soldier even knew him, the armor made it very difficult to tell each of them apart, but he was still alert with anxiety. He drummed his fingers onto the table to settle his nerves, not that it did much.

Colm turned around and pulled his hood down, before he slowly and ironically raised his grog to greet the patrons.

Afterwards, he took a long draught of it, and looked on curiously at the scene.

edited 20th Jul '14 7:38:21 AM by Fauxlosophe

Vythlian turned his head to face them all, though he was specifically looking at the Alaeddin. "I am Vythlian Emberglare," he put emphasis on his title and paused before he continued, "and I call no one master."

He placed his right hand on the table and clenched his fist and once again spoke to the demons. "Speak! Why am I here?"

A madman with a Torker name, he surmised. Someone to be ushered, not directed. At that, he took stock of the other patrons - a halfborn bounty hunter, a clumsy dwarf, a jumpy criminal Dark one, a dazed human, and a figure right out of a copperpiece fiction. Impossible they're natives, and unlikely they are mere travelers on their way, which means-

A motley band.

Alaeddin scrunched his nose as if he smelled something foul. Saigar better not have in fact invited him to join a circus. Dissatisfied, he returned his direction toward the armored elf.

"I know not whom -or what- held sway over you that directed you here, but the rest of us," He makes a sweeping hand gesture, one that deftly avoided spilling his wine with surprising dexterity and encompassed the whole room, “I suspect, were called here by a Saigar Blackmaw. That should answer your question, should it not, Emberglare?” He let the title rolled in his tongue, and there's a small, barely perceptible tang of mockery in his uses of the title.

He scanned the inn,eyes sharp for any that would react in a way that gave off their identity- and settled on the Barkeep. His eyes gauged the man for a reaction.

The barkeep snapped out of his trance. He answered Mirana while he poured another ale, though his tone was far less confident, "Oh. Heard him ranting a couple times, is all. Whole empire has a standing reward for information on rebel groups, but outright vigilantism is usually frowned upon - you might ask first before you deliver any heads."

He set the drink down before the woman and looked back toward Vythlian warily, "Still, I figure they couldn't be too mad if the preacher was delivered just a little beat up."

At the table, Vythlian felt as if lips were being pressed against his ear. A feminine whisper came into his mind, Have we not delivered to you a self-described Magus?

The voice drifted away, chuckling quietly.

edited 17th Aug '14 5:44:04 PM by StygianEmperor

"Not worth the trouble then," Mirana told the barkeep. "So that's the talk of the town these days, one man saying unkind things? No rumors or gossip, no word of what the travellers and hunters have seen, you humans must have a bleak existence."

"We find small ways to amuse ourselves," Colm replied to the Elf-Orc, "Little wars and blasphemies here and there perhaps, though we prefer to sleep in a comfortable bed than to wander the wild through rain and snow with nothing but the fury in us to keep us warm."

Vythlian grinned underneath his mail cowl and helm, unaware that he had shouted to his armor aloud. He stood up and made his way to the bar.

"Yes, I too was called here by a Saigar Blackmaw." He paused, chuckling underneath his breath as he said the name. "I presume neither you nor any of these...people know why?" His burning eyes swept across the others and then focused back on Alaeddin as he drew closer.

edited 21st Jul '14 4:13:36 PM by Crimsanotikku

The barkeep didn't seem to hear Mirana or Colm as Vythlian advanced upon them. The gangly man unconsciously took a step back, his fear ill-concealed. He visibly started when the double-doors scraped open yet again.

A gray-cloaked figure walked through the threshold, his stride confident, though swaying slightly. His face was obscured by a thick hood, which was slightly damp as it had just begun to rain outside. The glint of metal could be seem within the folds of his mantle, though whether weapons, armor, or simply jewelry, an onlooker couldn't be sure. He looked around the room at the assembled group, as if counting each, then turned and locked the doors behind him.

He called with a muffled, though mirthful voice to the barkeep, "Hope they haven't caused you too much trouble, Rigvald."

The man looked left and right at the group once again, and let out a sigh. Pulling down his hood, he revealed a human face that put him around age 30, one that was almost handsome if it weren't so gaunt. He had dark blue eyes, short, dark brown hair, and the tan skin of one of Tarulic descent. His mouth was striking; wide, with thin, oddly dark-purple lips. When he spoke again, he revealed his tongue and the insides of his mouth to be a similar color, though his teeth seemed remarkably healthy,

"So good to see my letters reached you all. I am Saigar, as I'm sure you have deduced, and I have quite the opportunity for you."

edited 21st Jul '14 10:40:39 PM by StygianEmperor

"Finally," Weyland said with a grin, as he left his now empty mug on the bar. "The curiosity has been getting to me. What's this task that your so keen on having us do?"

Mirana looked around as Saigar came in. The dwarf asked the only real question she had at the moment, but she was still thinking about what she had said.

She looked back at the barkeep. "What's the matter, you go deaf? I asked you a question. Hear anything from hunters passing through?"

"Good to know our benefactor is punctual. And can tell the guards to lay off his employees." Devlin muttered darkly as Saigar came in, annoyance still remaining in his system. He had relaxed as it became apparent, on a closer look, that Vythlian only appeared to be a Blackguard.

Saigar began to answer the dwarf's question, "Well, between the six of you-"

Then Mirana cut him off. Apparently unsatisfied with Colm's answer, she aggressively demanded the barkeep to speak. Saigar smiled, and spoke for him, "This isn't exactly a hunting lodge, Shadowbranch. Rigvald's not one for gossip anyway."

He took a satchel out of his cloak and set it next to a column, "But as far as I've heard, the word from the wilderness is 'dragons' these days."

Saigar grinned again, "These rumors go around once every few months, of course. Take them with a grain of salt."

edited 22nd Jul '14 11:24:42 AM by StygianEmperor

Vythlian turned to face Saigar and scoffed, "it is a poor host to keep his guests waiting."

edited 22nd Jul '14 11:36:28 AM by Crimsanotikku

"Dragons. Hmpph," Mirana said, and turned around in her barstool to look at Saigar again. "Well, you wanted us here for a reason. Out with it."

edited 22nd Jul '14 11:48:18 AM by nman

Saigar bowed apologetically to the armored warrior. "Forgive me, I was merely answering the lady's question."

He raised his head and cleared his throat, "As I was saying, between the six of you, I believe you have the skills to accomplish a particular task I need done. As noted in the missive, I'll make certain this is worth your while."

From the satchel, Saigar drew a large, folded paper and six jingling coin purses. He unfolded the paper, revealing it to be a map, and spread it across one of the empty tables. The small bags he set aside for the moment, and gestured for the assembled group to come over.

edited 22nd Jul '14 11:57:24 AM by StygianEmperor

"It takes more than just the coin of the realm to interest me," Mirana said. "Especially if the dark elf is involved." She cast a glance at Devlin. And one at Vythlian for good measure.

"You'll need to pay more than just what you're offering in those bags. What sort of task is this?"

"Aye," Weyland said in agreement, moving closer to see the map that Saigar had spread open. "And I for one wish to know how that letter of yours found me. Even I had no idea that I'd be in that village, or anywhere near it a day before I got that missive."

edited 22nd Jul '14 11:53:45 PM by sharur