Closed A dip in Kelp Beer

[Wrenmae]

Over the flickering flames, the half face of his pale companion grinned. It was not a mirthful smile for there was no cheer or reassurance in the glitter of firelight on teeth.

"I gave you no name," The stranger said calmly, "Your only mistake, Valo, was by assuming I was here to help you."

Standing, the firelight cast twisted shadows across the alley and the dock. In a sense, it almost seemed foreshadowing, the menace of the previous evening standing before the wet and freezing body of the man who had seen his handiwork. Strange fates led him down darker paths, and yet already the pain from Kipp's untimely death had passed from Wren's heart. Kipp had died in service of a greater cause, to strengthen Zeltiva beyond the lax values it held today.

His sacrifice would inspire terror, a constructive fear that would rise from the ashes of discordance and establish a far stronger law and order than before.

But only if he kept that fear alive.

"You see, friend, I carved that word into the mans chest to teach this city a lesson...and I will continue to instruct it til Zeltiva learns to become greater than the strength I bring against it."

Raising an eyebrow at the painter, the stranger smiled.

"Will you be my next example?"

[Daishira]

The fire casting shadow unraveled his intentions. Valo, the name he overheard, was so so so wrong in assuming this man was here to help him. Details of the murder Valo had witnessed did not phase Daishira as much as it should have, for he had already witnessed something of a similar nature earlier in his childhood. And he was only three years old. Daishira's nature was similar Valo's, thinking the best in people until they proved otherwise, but perhaps Daishira thought of this way of thinking on a far less generous and assumptious level. Darker and darker the intentions became. This practically commanded Daishira to leap out of the water. The splashes of water hissed against the flames still abundant on the docks. He dashed in front of the doomed, red-haired man in a protective stance, the wolf's weight making the floor beneath him bend and creak ever so slightly. An aggressive and a wild animalistic glint erupted from his eyes simultaneously with his bellowing roar.

No doubt his surprising entry stunned the Inarta and (hopefully) the sinister presence, so he tried to use this fully to his advantage. Immediately after the deafening roar, which shook the flames around the evil form, Daishira leaped towards him with purpose and determination. The chilling drips of water had sprayed against Valo already, and now they were splashed upon the dark person. The weight of the wolf acted in favour of Daishira as this would knock him over of he did not move out of the way.

[Valo]

"I gave you no name," The stranger said calmly, "Your only mistake, Valo, was by assuming I was here to help you." Valo's eyes widened ever so slightly, but his composure remained as calm as the stranger's. A complete mirror image of it. He backed half a step, his emerald green eyes now watching the stranger with utmost alarm within them, observing his eyes movement acutely. There was fear in his chest, undeniable fear but his mind was not lost to it. Au contraire. A mind that now worked out every possible escape root from the situation, even if it meant hurling him self back in the river or running for his life in the direction of Easy Street. However what the man said next halted the artist completely in his track and truly spun his brain into gear. "You see, friend, I carved that word into the man's chest to teach this city a lesson...and I will continue to instruct it 'til Zeltiva learns to become greater than the strength I bring against it." His chest tightened at the cruel memory of last night, which not even kelp beer had the power to erase. The desolate corpse of the Wave Guard with death painted upon his face and WEAK carver into his flesh. But why? What was the purpose behind all of this? Valo's mind asked questions at a rate too fast for him to comprehend with ease. This man is the killer. There was a fiendish grin upon the murderer's face which did not escape Valo's eyes which were firmly planted into him. "Will you be my next example?" "I most certainly will not." hissed Valo with such deep spite saturation his voice that it was no more than a low purring sound of utter hate. He inhaled, but there was no emotion twisting his features, not hate, not fear, nothing. A perfect impassive mask carved into ivory, pale as winter and cold as snow. His eyes however were another matter, for they burned with hellish fires of detest. Valo stood there before them man, a statue with the eyes of someone pondering revenge in the face of a man who, in those very eyes, deserved it. A pose of a dignified gentleman, fists clenched so that his knuckles appeared paper white in the cold. "Why?" the words came out as if he was spitting them at the stranger. First quietly, but soon he was demanding the explanation, his mind trying to make sense of it all. "What is the purpose of that murder? A mockery, a message? Why would you go to all that trouble? What is your purpose?" The conversation was interrupted by a great barrage of noise as a great beast hurled it self from the water behind him. A wolf, it was obvious by the thick grey pelt and the build of the animal. Head hung low, ears swept back and fangs bared. A powerful body balanced upon four thin paws and beneath that pelt was a vast network of muscle that operated the bast, that allowed movement. Of course now was no time for visual anatomical studies of the animal, but Valo could not deny him self a close observation of the animal's movement and how all that muscle contracted and recoiled beneath the fur; before it bolted towards the mysterious dark killer.

[Wrenmae]

The arrival of the wolf was entirely unexpected. Bursting from the water behind them and leaping in front of Valo, Wrenmae drew back sharply, his hand reaching for the long blade at his waist.

With a roar, the wolf leaped at him, too fast for him to adequately draw and counterattack, all he could do was to wrap the steel cloth cloak around his body as the wolf's weight knocked him off his feet and onto the ground. It came down heavy, snarling, its bright eyes like witchflame pyres in the night. There was no time to question, no time to do anything more than react.

Transfixing those eyes with his own, Wrenmae lashed out a weave of hypnotism, the strongest weave he could envision. It was a work of twisting fibers, woven together into a blanket of sensation that would wash over the wolf atop him. The first was fear, the strongest of the threads woven into this spell, absolute mind numbing terror, black as pitch. It vibrated among the weave of the other emotions he set along it, the will to flee, the impression this was a much more dangerous predator than the wolf had imagined, a complete castration of his intial rage with an overbearing and heavy handed invasion of his personal aura.

RUN

Was the single word burning like fire in Daishira's mind.

[Daishira]

As Wren was happily under the strength of Daishira's heavy clamps he called paws, he was about to take a great slash, hoping to tear the flesh from his fire casting arm, maybe even baring the bone. Following his roar, he lifted his dominant limb, ready to strike.

But, then.

The world around him seemed to protest against him. The great wolf's eyes were already transfixed with the helpless man but they morphed. Right before him, his eyes grew brighter, the light radiating from his iris exploded into streams of focused knives, all of them darting into his eyes. The fire climbed around him with a great, deafening roar. The tips of his fur were singed. Daishira could smell the burning material. Everything but the man and the flames melted into pure darkness, his vision narrowed, the terrifying illusion that was Wren captured the centre of attention.

Daishira was almost paralysed by the morphing transformation. How had he landed on top of this monster? It couldn't be possible. He should just get away. Now. Quickly. His raised paw was already on its way down, aiming for Wren's face. Hurriedly, he changed its course slightly. The paw slammed into his arm. Damn! Daishira thought he had just provoked the anger to burst out of this evil, frightening creature with his blow. In reality, Wren escaped serious injury, only his arm was hurt by his weak strike. In a flurried panic, the Kelvic bounced off him as if he was a massive hot potato. A high pitched howl clambered out of Daishira. He looked for a way to escape. He had to run.

RUN!

The boundaries of his vision were surrounded by sudden, epileptic streaks of bright white light dashing across his eyes. The low growl of the ground beneath him hinted it was going to collapse. The same floor felt as if it was bending. Caving in around Daishira. Simultaneously, a squeal from inside his head was threatening to shoot him down in shock. Nostrils widened. Heartbeat quickened. Breathing grew shallower and rapid.

Thundering away from the docks, Daishira bolted past Wren and left Valo behind.

[Valo]

Though perhaps often he acted like a complete fool, Valo was far from it. Perhaps not that far, but far enough. And he had wit enough to know when the ordeal was beyond him. He knew when to escape. As the beast pinned the stranger down, it's teeth bared in a thunderous snarl, Valo wasted no time to run. Run for his dear life. He bolted up the street from the docks, darting past crowds and tucking away around corners and into the safety of populated alleys. A film of sweat across his forehead. Was this the act of a coward? Was he a coward now? Valo had never claimed to be particularly brave, but never had he deemed him self cowardly and the though struck him like a needle though the flesh. But he wasn't yet prepared to die needlessly and perhaps it wasn't his cowardice, but sheer wit that beckoned him to flee. He didn't get that far by the time Wrenmae's djed crippled Daishira's mind and caused the beat to flee like a pup. Nor would he pay any attention should he hear the beast thundering in his direction. He just ran.

[Wrenmae]

Swinging himself up to his feet, Wrenmae drew his rapier only to find Valo and the strange wolf opponent racing off into the city gloom. Rather than chase the artist or the intervention wolf, Wrenmae let them go. He was left with the burning barrel and after exuding a small amount of res, pulling the flames from the top of the wood as easily as he might have plucked flowers, there wasn’t even that. Only darkness swept in where light and menace had been before. Sheathing his blade, the storyteller moved to the end of the dock where the wolf had appeared and stared out to sea. Somewhere out there, the water teemed with predators ready to tear the flesh from his bones. Laviku…had he sent the wolf as an omen? Was Valo under his protection? He stopped himself, shaking his head with a grimace. Always gods these days. The gods were in every coincidence, every action, every setback, and every victory. Since when had he been so concerned about the gods and what they thought of him?

The easy answer was since they had played such a role in his life. Three gods he’d seen thus, and just as many gods had marked him. Wherever he went, somehow he accrued their attention. Disapproval, disappointment, dark glee…whatever tempted these gods into their wide range of mixed messages, Wrenmae was hardly a supporter.

In Zeltiva, he spread Vayt’s word. He would have the hopeless turn to Rhysol before they went, praying with their last breaths or converting entirely. For both he would do their will. The end result? That was still far off, some distant point along his road that he had yet to fully grasp. Once he had thought he was cleansing Mizahar of the weak. In truth, what he’d seen of the Blight in Zeltiva did not substantiate those at all. So for now, what was he? He was result without causation. He was plague, simple plague, and he would operate as though his logic was still in effect. After all, it wouldn’t do to disappoint Vayt, not when the first mark of Laviku could bring such bother and danger to his life. To earn Vayt’s disfavor now would be to turn the tides of plague against him.

Stepping away into the alley, Wren reabsorbed his res.

He had work to do.

[Jester]

Thread Graded!! Valo : XP Awarded +2 Drinking +2 Escape Artist +2 Socialization Lores Awarded Drowning Tastes Like Kelp Beer Enemy: Wrenmae Sek Wrenmae is the "WEAK" Killer Wrenmae : XP Awarded +1 Stealth +1 Familiary +1 Socialization +1 Reimancy +3 Philosophy +1 Brawling Lores Awarded Zan Thinks Wren is Bi Valo Knows The Truth Laviku: Adversarial? Daishira : XP Awarded +1 Escape Artist +3 Observation +2 Brawling +2 Stealth Lores Awarded Wrenmae is Sinister Sometimes the Weakened Need Saving Notes : Excellent thread, guys! Wren, your dialogue with Zan as usual cracked me up Hope you enjoyed that lore haha "The difference between a jester and a fool is that the jester knows he's a jester" DISCLAIMER: If you think I have been foolish in grading your thread, don't hesitate to PM me. I am happy to take another look at anything you feel is in error, but keep in mind the other Storytellers and I have final say.