Ryan5011 wrote:"Yes. Directions...would be appreciated." Ryan replied with a blank expression.
Blaze wrote:Paul shoots the guard a smarmy smile and nods, following him into the castle.
Harri-chan wrote:The blonde young man whistled a cheerful tune as he strolled along the red carpet, briefly taking in the statues and paintings, but not pausing to truly admire any of them. He ignored the smaller doors, and made his way up the staircase, pausing at the double doors to sweep his hair back over his shoulders before throwing the doors open and walking through, flicking his hands up and flashing his best smile.
"Naberius Sunstrike. Saviour", he announced.
Restless Lucidity wrote:"No, sir, but thank you for the offer. Even if it's hard to believe, I've been to the grand hall a good number of times before." He smirks. "And I'm sure his majesty will be more than happy to accept my help."
With that, Marshall gives a small bow and heads past the gate and in to the castle proper. He begins his walk to the grand hall, carefully observing his surroundings at every turn.
All of the above find themselves escorted in a large-ish group down the lush hallway, up the stairs... through the double doors and into the grand hall! The table is laid out in a feast... the King sitting on a throne at the head of the table. He looks up... nodding. "Welcome... please be seated..."
Kether wrote:"Ah you poor thing.. well I believe there was a request for aid in freeing you all from your imperialed lives.."
The guard... nods. "Thats true... sir. What of it?" He says... looking over him warily.
muffinstud wrote:Horace Durgoth stumbles out of the Dragon's Teat, one of the less reputable inns in the residential ward. "Ugh, methinks I've had a little too much." He leans against the wall outside and pulls out a piece of parchment with the whole reason he's in this oversized hamlet. It has a summons from the King's Guard, requesting him to consult them on a few matters. He puts the parchment back and wobbles down the street, hoping that by the time he gets to the castle, he'll have sobered up a bit.
Horace finds his way easily enough... it is all downhill, afterall. Though his sobriety depended on his constitution and how much alcohol he assaulted it with. He catches a few glances from the guards... they were always ready to deal with a disorderly drunk...
Vomica wrote:For a night and a day, one of the local mead halls just seems to hum with a life of it's own. The windows vibrate, the doors hum, and the entire wooden structure just seems to pulse with life. Not false life that might be found in an abomination, but it isn't true life either. It is the life that brings truth to the ears, and what brings the sublime to the mind. It is the life of rhyme and rhythm; music as it is want to be. Not as a thing to be dissected, but an art for the heart.
One man in particular seems to be the cause of all this ruckus! Despite being mid morning, and the sun high in the sky, the tavern appears darkened. A single column of light, from no real source, shines down on a lone figure on the stage. He's of average height, but from there nothing seems 'average' about him. But we'll leave such rantings of his appearance to Keen himself, for this is the name of the man. The light doesn't seem to be about focusing on his face or body, but rather to stop the distractions from other things -- from his voice. The spot light moves along the stage as his feet moves in a reverse walking motion, the odd circular object in his hand held close to his mouth -- some sort of instrument! His words seem to rebound off from each other, as a spectral band and backup singers buzz in the back ground. And it goes on for a few more minutes...
Until he stops! The lights return to normal -- the fireplace roars with it's natural warm glow, and the sunlight pours through the windows. It seems to have darkened for the performance somehow. Regardless! The audience seems moved to excitement -- but a separate figure soon approaches him. Keen's frowns, "...I know you. My aunt must have sent you, didn't she?" The man doesn't move his hood, and merely replies "Indeed. Young Keens. You know why you are in this country. You know when your appointment is. ...and you know it's my duty to make sure you go to it." Keens hand waves the man off, "Oh don't worry. I was only going to be a few hours late! ...it's not like this is a life or death situation, you know? And I was having fun!" The hooded figure sighs, "...your stuff is packed. And your mule is ready." Keens gives a nod, "Very well. ...til later Ruber!" And with that? Keens heads out the inn. A few moments later he is on his way to the keep -- where he is needed!
Assuming he arrives... he sees it sitting where it always was... the main gates open and flanked with guards.
Restless Lucidity wrote:The man nods twice, the second being slower, more solemn. He shuts his eyes and takes a seat beside the king.
"Indeed, majesty. Blackstone may be a better soldier, and a better leader, than I ever was. However..." He pauses. "... this evil is also considerably more... persistent than any others we've encountered. It's a parasite that corrupts even the best soldiers in the land." The man looks over to his king once more. "Blackstone and the rest will have to outdo themselves... we all will."
The king glances up at the man. "And I'm sure they will... I'm sure they will..." He says, before looking back to his guests.
all_knowing_frog wrote:The cloaked figure hurried through the Shades, hands always on at least one of his many daggers hidden about his person, just waiting for some poor fool to try and jump him, Tod Vorbote, one of the best assassins in the kingdom if not the world, and certainly the best in his chosen style. Nothing showed how helpless people were like a poisoned dagger stabbed, not thrown, that could have been intercepted by some simple spells, in some lord’s vulnerable throat.
Oh sure the knife appearing out of nowhere was an intimidating and praise worthy method, but few could throw a knife for any real distance and get it to stab blade first. Hilts can be just as lethal with the proper force, but they didn't have the same psychological effect on those around the victim, but the cloaked figure flying up to the target, ending their pitiful life and being gone before anyone knew what the Bob just happened sowed much more chaos and actually made it easier to escape in some cases. Not to mention it made the guards, about the only people in Tod’s line of work you had any chance of meeting again, feel useless. Which they were, at least against a proper killer, but damaging their pride and confidence just made the next job that much easier.
After a disappointingly uneventful walk to the Castle’s entrance, Tod decided to stroke his ego and prove his competence. From the shadows, he examined the lone guard. Really, a single guard, what sort of moron is the guard captain? His eyes dart about the scene, noting the approaching man. To distant to interfere, no ranged weaponry visible, good, Tod didn't want this to result in anything of consequence.
The guard wasn't looking at him, now was the time to strike. He launched himself from the shadows of an outcropping and all but flue at the guard, cloak billowing out behind him, adding to the purposely intimidating site of a man shooting towards you with glinting daggers. Normally the distance he needed to travel would make his attempt disastrous, it ending with him stabbed by the guard’s weapon. For him, it was more the close enough.
The guard will find a nearly 6 inch dagger against his throat, while another was ready to pierce the vulnerable armpit of his right arm, ready to disable his weapon arm if the initial strike wasn't immediately lethal. Which of course it wasn't, he was too skilled to let such a thing happen when he didn't want it to. “An incompetent guard is less the worthless, you better step up your game, next time I may need to actually end your life.”
The guard by the gate dosent flinch... or even go for his weapon... instead he stares into the man's eyes... and suddenly yells. "ASSASSIN!" From the battlements of the keep, the rooftops of surrounding buildings... and the inner wall surrounding the keep... crossbowmen suddenly bristle. As from the keep, armored men with swords and an intent expression begin fanning out... making a wall covering the entrance.
After a moment of silence... Tod hears a volley of twangs... as a hail of crossbow bolts descend towards his position. The only cover nearby is a parked wagon near the outer wall... that he could duck under. Or be perforated.