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Post by Yimzin on May 16, 2011 17:38:13 GMT -4
Noticing the palpable discomfort in the room he merely looks up towards the bartender before getting up some his seat. Looking around at the fear and loathing that emanates from the other patrons for a moment, he looks back to the bartender and shakes his head.
Drawing his cloak about him once more he moves to the backroom in quick strides.
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Post by Veritas on May 16, 2011 20:58:01 GMT -4
The door to the back room opens. It's not the biggest; this particular bar isn't very large, and the back, private room reflects that. Like the front room of the tavern, this part isn't in the best of repair; a situation that, perhaps, reflects Westcrown itself. Two small paintings displaying views of an Aroden-worshipping city in better times are framed on the wall, both hanging crooked, and starting to peel and show their age as well. A small, empty fireplace with ash scattered before in long, haphazard patterns adorns the far wall, and by one of the two shuttered windows sits Janiven, a woman who is tall and lean, with wavy brown hair that doesn't quite cover her neck. Small rings of chain are concealed under her tunic, suggesting she's armed, just in case, and a bow and sword rest beside the chair she has tilted back. Dark eyes peer out from the shutter from time to time, as if searching for someone else, but the arrival of the first three distracts her.
The chair's forward legs touch down as she moves to rest the chair down, before moving up to stand. Her eyes sweep over the three, and she nods crisply. "Heldalel. Moira. Flange. Thank you for coming. I have something to share with you but, I was going to wait...ah." The door had opened again, and then she looked at the newcomer. "Darvan, thank you for coming. This is some of the others. Heldalel, Moira, Flange, this is Darvan. I trust you four would like to greet each other. I will keep waiting...he should have been here already, but, I am sure it is just fine."
Her hand moves over towards the small table in the centre of the room, upon which is a jug of wine, and a jug of ale, a few spare glasses (five, in fact, plus the one Janiven already filled and has dragged closer to her perch by the window), and a plate of small bits of cheese, breads, and meats. "Make yourself comfortable and talk among yourself...I'd really only like to say this once, and...well. You'll hear soon."
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Post by elgatocello on May 16, 2011 21:50:55 GMT -4
Flange fills up his stein with some of the ale on the table, sets his sword onto the back of his chair, and sits down as he grabs a piece of bread.
"Darvan. Interesting name. You from around here?"
<tag Darvan>
"So, Jan, who exactly are we missing?"
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Post by joviality on May 16, 2011 21:59:25 GMT -4
Moira looks over to Darvan as she takes a seat, unsure quite what to think about the tiefling. She knows a lot about the infernals of hell, but has yet to see a mixed-breed quite like him. <Moira attempts to recognize or recall a bit of information about his features with a Knowledge: The Planes check. [dice=20]+8>
"Yes, an interesting name indeed. It's nice to meet you. I'm Moira."
Moira nods her head in Darvan's direction, then redirects her attention to Janiven, eagerly awaiting more information.[rand=7696930444799364638817026978358657164567336440093200634438544512]
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Post by hockeyisgood on May 17, 2011 9:56:33 GMT -4
Sense motive check on Barnabus [dice=20]+5.
Heldalel pulls out his cigarettes and kindly offers: "Would anyone like a smoke?"[rand=6931059933267534721550711663439909043080615811052765196184627712]
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Post by Yimzin on May 17, 2011 17:40:28 GMT -4
OOC:Moira, with that Knowledge (Planes) check you would know that the reptilian features mixed with backwards hands could be indicative of Rakshasa blood.
Darvan entering the backroom will slide off to the side and lean against a wall, not partaking in the food or drink offered, nor grabbing a seat.
Being addressed by two of the other people at the meeting he will raise his gaze to address them. His green-yellow eyes staring intently, he opens his mouth to respond to Flange, revealing his long sharp teeth, more like that of a crocodile.
"Indeed, it is an interesting name. One that does not come from these parts, unlike myself. I am indeed from these parts, as I presume you are?"
Darvan's words come out sounding strangely human, without any reptilian lisp that might be expected. He also speaks with a certain level of confidence and strength that seems contradictory to his seemingly shy demeanor.
"A pleasure to meet you as well, Moira," as Darvan offers his hand in greetings with a slight grin.
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Post by Veritas on May 17, 2011 17:52:41 GMT -4
So, Jan, who exactly are we missing? Janiven seems to ignore the question with a wave of her hand, and she returns to the window, peering out a shutter opened only a couple inches. Her hand tugs some of her brown, wavy hair out of her eyes, as her brow furrows more. |
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Post by joviality on May 17, 2011 18:04:16 GMT -4
Without moving her eyes from Darvan's face, Moira extends her hand in a way comfortable for him to shake. Vuldonna, now sitting in Moira's lap, has her ears perked up and is looking in Darvan's direction, slightly confused by what she sees. Moira strokes her gently with her free hand.
After they have shook, Moira nods politely once more and wordlessly redirects her attention to Janiven.
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Post by elgatocello on May 17, 2011 18:54:59 GMT -4
Heldalel pulls out his cigarettes and kindly offers: "Would anyone like a smoke?"
Flange nods. "Sure."
"Indeed, it is an interesting name. One that does not come from these parts, unlike myself. I am indeed from these parts, as I presume you are?"
"Aye." Flange leaned toward the candle on the table to light the tobacco as he addressed Darvan. "I have a smithy down a ways in this area of town. I was born and raised here, but I spent most of my youth doing mercenary work."
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Post by hockeyisgood on May 17, 2011 22:56:05 GMT -4
Heldalel walks up to Janvien and looks out the window. He asks, "is there anyone that knows about our meeting that we need to be worried about?"
Sense motive check on Janvien [dice=20]+5.[rand=14648749819025397536841111956164232527941628359262688553670886904]
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Post by Veritas on May 17, 2011 23:27:11 GMT -4
"It's alright, Heldalel," Janiven says to him, looking to his eyes with dark eyes that don't betray any particular thoughts. "Have a seat, and I think we shall get on with things."
She waits for a few moments, until silence has been had, and then she opens her mouth, speaking slowly at first, her voice even, though holding restrained passion. "Again, thank you for agreeing to meet with me here. I have chosen each of you for a singular reason—everyone here, myself included, has suffered, whether we realize it or not. I have lived in Westcrown my whole life, and although I love this city, I must admit, as must you, that despite our peace and prosperity, we continue to suffer. Fear should not be an expected part of life, and yet each night brings fear to our doorsteps."
A deep breath, and when Janiven resumes speaking, her voice is louder; with more passion, with more strength. "Yes, Westcrown has been safe from war and famine for nearly seventy years, and yes, our businesses has prospered—but this safety and prosperity has been bought in the coinage of fear and prayers to Hell. Other lands live free from tyranny. Other cities do not fear the night. Other governments do not cede the streets to monsters of the infernal shadows. Westcrown was once such a place, and she wants to be such a place again. Westcrown is not only her buildings and canals and docks and history—she is also her people. Westcrown is our friends and neighbors, our mothers and fathers, our siblings and cousins, our sons and daughters! With but a small group of supporters and dedicated brothers and sisters, we can earn the trust and admiration of those people. A Westcrown free of these shadowy beasts that stalk our streets is one step closer to a Westcrown free of the devil that is the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune!"
Her eyes wide, Janiven stops speaking, and then she takes another deep breath, as she looks over everyone.
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Post by joviality on May 17, 2011 23:56:16 GMT -4
Moira looks at Janiven with wide eyes, clearly disturbed by such treasonous talk.
"I... I don't understand why you've chosen me, Janiven. You know I have worked with the infernal summoners of Egorian and benefitted from the institutionalized diabolism. I agree... Westcrown is a shadow of what she once was, but I'm not sure if I could support such... actions. What exactly are you proposing?"
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Post by elgatocello on May 18, 2011 6:41:11 GMT -4
...A Westcrown free of these shadowy beasts that stalk our streets is one step closer to a Westcrown free of the devil that is the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune!"
Her eyes wide, Janiven stops speaking, and then she takes another deep breath, as she looks over everyone.
Flange began to chuckle quietly under his breath.
---
Moira looks at Janiven with wide eyes, clearly disturbed by such treasonous talk.
"I... I don't understand why you've chosen me, Janiven. You know I have worked with the infernal summoners of Egorian and benefitted from the institutionalized diabolism. I agree... Westcrown is a shadow of what she once was, but I'm not sure if I could support such... actions. What exactly are you proposing?"
The chuckle gave way to a fit of boisterous laughter, as if the punchline of a joke had just washed over the half-elf.
"You must be fucking joking, Jan. The five of us against the House of Thrune?" Flange flicked the ash from his cigarette into an unused cup and stood up. The chair holding his sword fell to the ground, now unbalanced.
"I mean, yes. Absolutely. Fuck 'em. But, just the five of us?"
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Post by hockeyisgood on May 18, 2011 14:50:19 GMT -4
Heldalel chuckles, and then asks in a semi-sarcastic, yet serious tone: "Janvien, you really think that all of us could take out something that powerful? I mean I'm one for idealism, but this sounds like suicide. I hope you have some sort of plan, and if so I'd like to hear it."
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Post by irishmagician on May 19, 2011 1:35:02 GMT -4
A crash sounds suddenly from the front room of the tavern, as if a table had been knocked over abruptly. Shortly thereafter, the sounds of several mugs and glassware shattering amidst loud cursing from a livid bartender announce the entry of a small figure entering the back room. A small gnome child with straggled blond hair and dirty clothing strides into the room, lightly dusted with shards of pottery and broken glass while smelling of a combination of spilled wine and ale. The light from the candles in the room reveal a serene face, unfazed by it's owner's disheveled appearance; though her eyes stare almost sightlessly at her surroundings, the pupils of her eyes scarred and whitened. Without even pausing she walks swiftly into the room, stopping shortly past Janiven. She then turns abruptly to a deer's head mounted on the wall.
"M'lady, I come bearing urgent news from Arael," the child tells the deer's head firmly. After a slight awkward silence, Janiven coughs slightly and the girl jumps in surpise.
"What message have you brought for me, Eridana?" asks Janiven impatiently, it clearly showing on her face that this has happened many times before. The girl turns towards her, addressing her with a solemn face.
"Yes, m'lady. The Hellknights and the Captain of the Guard decided to walk in on Arael's meeting outside of the tavern. He has been arrested."
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