Fight:Hanging Corpse Tavern 'Brawl'
Contributors
- Satoshi, Vampiric Feline mage.
- Whess, Hobbit-Thrall bard/pirate.
- Kris, Human ranger.
- Caedan, Human psychic.
- Kasyr, Vampiric Tiefling paladin.
- Trey, Human pirate.
- Shienth, Draconian warrior.
- Svogthos, Undead assassin.
- Talisia, High Elf noble.
This wide blackstone street is crowded with elegantly constructed homes and charming shops. The buildings are narrow, tending to vertical development and are fitted rather closely together. Glancing up, one might find that some are even joined via sturdy walkways from their upper floors. Those lucky enough to purchase homes or office space in this desirable location may be glimpsed through the windows here and there, with the majority of denizens appearing aptly pale. To the south, an erected barrier now looms, though the pathway to the west now appears open.
Whess :: The building was older, a little run down compared to the rest. Much like the Hobbit was run down slightly, but brown orbs focused 'pon the dirty ground with such fervor it was easy to tell he was not the homeless wretch the male was emulating. Truth be told he looked the part, squatted against the building with a bottle of elven blood wine in hand. Clothes dirty, torn, ragged really adorned pallid flesh -- a new tear, one may note - if one spent enough time around the Hobbit - was now across the torso, and as wind blew the shirt open here and there one would note the long scar stretching from belly button to just below the rib cage. The white staff, his staff, lay on the ground beside him. Every so often he would look at it in thought, deep thought, before a drink was taken here or a song was quietly sung under his breath. The hobbit was just taking his ease it seemed. A bit normal, for a Thrall that is.
Satoshi departs from one of the many shops lining the street, the twin jingle of bells--one from the shop door and the other from her collar--announcing her arrival to the outside world. As per usual, the feline holds herself with an air of casual regality, even if her appearance is less than the usual. There's an almost two-tone look to the magus, her left side unmarred while her right shows signs of recent damage, both physical and fiery: her face is a collection of rapidly healing scratches and faint burns, heavy coat bearing tears and singed patches, hair holding streaks of soot, and arm resting heavily in an impromptu sling made from her fluid scarf. She fiddles with the scarf as she travels down the road and past Whess, and might have very well missed him if not for the glimpse of his familiar song her vulpine ears catch. Light footsteps come to a slow halt as Satoshi glances over her shoulder with a barely concealed wince, scrutinizing the hobbit with that neutral expression of hers. "Ah. Bonjour, Whess. Long time no see... Behaving, I hope..?"
Whess takes a long, quiet look at Satoshi. Zeal. It shone in his eyes, but his voice maintained its calm grace. "Of course..I think I might have killed a baby." He chuckled, unphased, "Some Avian ~ but I discovered something. Wine." His eyes weren't too terribly bloodshot, he was mostly sober - after a few weeks of not drinking, what did one expect from the formerly hyper and eccentric hobbit? "I am feeling much better now Satoshi. About it. About it all." He regarded her with a nod, a forgiving nod. "No balls, no beating heart ~ I haven't much else to lose." That zeal. Stronger now, he was consumed with worship. "How is my ship coming along then?" He stood from his squatt, bottle in hand and approached the magus. "Well?"
Satoshi's ears flicker back and forth, the only visible sign of her unease around the Thrall. Where his eyes might shine with zeal, her own amber-flecked ones reflect a closed, guarded light. And yet, her face paints an entirely different emotion as it settles into a lopsided grin, fangs bared in a feigned cheerful manner. "Hrm. Wine. Oui, I've discovered that little gem too recently. Et, really... I -did- warn you when we first met, that Kasyr isn't such a bastard when compared to me, no? Don't play with cats, if you can't bear her scratches~." As her voice dances in a sing-song manner the mage turns on her heel to face the hobbit, merry tune dying once a sober expression is adopted. "As for the Isabelle, I'm not sure how much longer until she'll be ready to sail. I've... avoided Trey the past few weeks. For obvious reasons." Once again fangs are bared, only this time in a sardonic smirk.
Whess gives a nod here, takes a sip there. All around quite the conversationalist. The grin was returned with one of his own, mocking her unease, until a steady flat look resided 'pon his ragged face. Those scars she left him, well they healed pretty well. Almost looked like war paint, if the artist was living in a crack den and smoking cocaine out of a soda can. But it didn't look -too- bad. "You're right. You're always right. Always." That last word was said under his breath and it took him a moment to realize he had even said it. "I haven't seen you around much either since -- since it happened yeah?" Why this was asked in the form of a question was beyond him, maybe it was 'why are you avoiding me' and such. "What do you want me to do? About this? Issue?"
Satoshi avoids the hobbit's gaze by pretending to adjust her sling once more, finding herself uncharacteristically uncomfortable under that look of mixed emotions. There's a part of her that wants badly to answer with 'Let me kill you and set things right again', although her offers a different response. "Currently? I've no idea. If I was stronger, and knew what I was doing, perhaps I could complete it. Properly. But that will take time and learning... I -have- heard rumor that it can be reversed. I don't know of any capable of it, et it could be no more than a myth to foster false hope. But, it does serve as an option for you." Satoshi shrugs in a one-sided manner as ears fold back in an unhappy set. If there's anything the feline dislikes, it's slavery. Most especially a slave bound to her unwillingly, and by mistake. "I -am- sorry for that. It... wasn't intended. For what little good that does you now."
Whess shrugs in on himself. "Once, long ago - bout fifteen years - I came across an infant with fangs. Damn thing bit me. Pissed me off." He quirked up a bit, the old Whess crossing his features with smile, merry, "What I mean is -- worse has happened to others. You know? I forgive you." He should be furious. Should be. But couldn't. Not at her. She had turned him after all. It just wasn't possible. "Aye you know what?" He gestured toward the staff he had left on the ground a few feet away, "Did I ever tell you the story 'bout how I came across that staff there?" Walking over to the thing, he picked it up in his free hand and resumed his position beside Satoshi. That merry faded, and the Whess version 2.0 resumed. Calm. Quiet. Composed. Thrall. His voice dropped down, a quiet thing now. "If it can be reversed I will find a way. Everyday it gets harder." The hobbit was a bi-polar conversationalist. Always. From one topic to the next, he wiggled his way along. "I attacked an avian named Dawn - aye. A man named Kain. A centaur. And that child -- " He shivered, "In Kelay. This holds it off." The bottle was raised, "But for how long Satoshi? For how long? Until I try to kill someone close to me? Until I attack Trey? I don't know what to do. This is all just -- so wrong."
Satoshi looks as if she'd rather talk about the story behind the staff, but that subject's been pushed aside with the resurfacing of the bard's less carefree persona. His questions manage something few have had the privilege of doing... they destroy the feline's careful composure, forcing her expression to expose its true state. Her brow furrows into unfamiliar lines and her mouth presses into a thin, grim line, even as a defeated shadow comes into her normally bright eyes. "I have no answers for you... If I knew how to stave off the hunger, how to reign in the instinct and control the urges... would I be skulking about this city of undead, where I can't rampage and devour the living? Kasyr can only guide me so much, I have to learn this on my own. And you do too, even if you never got the choice, like I did." Heaving a sigh as shoulders sag heavily, the mage gives Whess a grave look. "If there es a way to reverse it, I will help you find it. It's the least I can do..."
Whess hums quietly. An energy Satoshi would surely detect swirled about them, magic to a mage -- you know how it goes. Magic to a bard on the other hand was a hard taught craft, and one the hobbit did not have much strength in. But the song was sad, and would so impact both the Thrall and his master with that same emotion. "We'll figure it out. And everything will be okay." Obviously he'd stopped humming by this time and was focusing upon his staff intently, unable to meet her gaze. "It's not like I'm a blood thirsty killer or anyth-- oh wait." He grinned, everything within him telling him to cheer her up. Poking her in the side, the scarred Thrall tilts his head to the side. Matter of fact, a thought crossed him then. So obvious. He began to hum again, magic swirling about - sweat adorned his brow just slightly - and this song was one of merry origins, something one could dance to. He felt it within him, and hoped the vampiress would as well. "Cheer up old cat. Won't do us any good to dwell on it. I mean, I lost my balls and look at what happened. I made it through that."
Satoshi finds herself easily swayed by the bardic magic, her bleak mood quickly lifting back into her casual cheerfulness--after the disheartening set-back by the mournful song prior. The mage finds herself softly humming along with Whess' tune as the heavy atmosphere is chased away like nothing more than a bad dream, and once more her features smooth back into their usual neutral set as she offers the thrall her lopsided grin. It's as if she had been in a positive mood the entire time. "Heh. That's quite true~. You're a resilient one. You made it through that better than most males would, so this little set-back should be a cakewalk. I've seen the impossible be made possible many times, finding a reversal shouldn't be terribly difficult." Nodding through her smile, the feline adds in that sing-song fashion, "And by then, you should have your ship out on the waters. Not so terrible a prospect, hm~?"
Whess :: It's kind of his thing. The song faded, but the emotion lingered. For the Thrall. A heavy sigh, contented, followed soon after as orbs grazed the sky - cloudy as it was. "Aye aye. Aye. Yes." Indeed. The Hobbit could not hold off the urges of bloodlust, but at least he could improve his mood while he did so. A smile, genuine. True. It was there, and going no where. "Stole this from a mage." It was mumbled at first, as his eyes fell upon Satoshi. "While he was sleeping. He paid me to sing him a song while he ate." The smile grew wider, "Saw him light a fire with this thing -- been trying to do it for years." He nodded seriously, "Finally got it to work. Burnt a ship - but got it to work. Trey -- aye. You know how it goes yes?" A quick few limping steps brought him directly to the Feline's side, he reached up to tug 'pon whatever adorned her torso. Craning his neck upward, a sly grin posed itself on scratched face. "We should get out of here. This city is too dreary. Lets go hit up a tavern, I've yet to be in one since -- since you - told me not to. Go. In one. I miss -- I miss people. Yes." He nodded, just as serious but still lighthearted in his own right.
Satoshi is caught between trying to eye the staff in that wary way she eyes all things fire-related, and trying to retain her good mood despite its presence. Whess' tug at her tattered coat serves as the perfect distraction and gladly the feline looks down at him with a smirk. "A tavern, hm? We could, if you're certain you won't try to eat the patrons. Well... not too many, at least. I'm... not in the best condition to lend you a paw, after all." A quick gesture of her hand points out her healing right side. "Have a particular one in mind? I could use a brighter environment myself. Skulking in alleys all day has gotten dull." She's taking a risk with her choice, but the feline has a notorious reckless streak and an entertainment-hungry mind as insatiable as her bloodlust. That quiet presence of Asorial--nearly invisible coiled about Satoshi's neck in its familiar form of a silvery-blue pipefox--doesn't help in this case either, the sentient weapon giving its silent nudge to coax the magus into curing their shared boredom. "Let's go~."
This once-timber tavern has been rebuilt in sturdily vitrified blackstone and imbued with powerful protective magics that prevent occult fire and several other potentially harmful spells being cast within its walls. No effort has been spared to make what might otherwise be a bleak interior comfortable. The bar is made of polished stone with an oaken inlay, the space behind filled with a bustle of attractive barmaids, sundry barrels and a dazzling array of coloured bottles that glint in the light cast by a large wrought-iron candelabrum suspended from the ceiling overhead. Here, the one-eyed Steadman stands, ready to take orders for food or drink. Beyond the bar, stout tables are firmly bolted to the floor, though the high-backed chairs are freestanding. The hearth is a true feature, seeming to be cast from black lava into the shape of a colossal, laughing goblin's head, its maw gaping wide and deep, usually containing a merrily crackling fire. A delicious scent of roasting meats drifts in from the kitchens and a winding staircase leads to rooms upstairs. To the south are set cellar doors, usually kept locked unless a special event is taking place. The walls are hung with thick, richly woven tapestries depicting persons and events in the history of Vailkrin and the Vampiric race. There's also a notice-board near the entrance, where one may leave messages. Unobtrusive but ever-present are the security staff, staunch fighters ever ready to toss troublemakers out. Chief among them is Urghdak, a massively built half orc, half-troll who has more scars than green-tinted skin and stands nearly eight feet tall. His yellow eyes are always narrowed, alert for excuses to do his duty. Approach him --or cause trouble-- at your own risk.
Whess enters. A white staff in hand, unblemished was paled in the comparison of this Hobbit Thrall. What was once a pristine, high quality shirt now lay in shambles -- the white having been turned from white to gray, with dust and dirt accentuating it. His pants were plain black, a bit faded but in good enough condition other than the remnants of blood splatters that covered them. A tear in the left sleeve, the torso also ripped clean - if one looked hard enough as the hobbit swayed one would note a long scar from belly button to rib cage - the shirt was ragged now, more than anything. A pallid face held a look of caution, paranoia. Uncertainty dwelled within those heavily lidded orbs whilst he looked outside, the hand clutching the staff tightening its grip. The Thrall waited, politely, and as he looked outside his chin raised and pure joy crossed his features.
Satoshi follows not far behind Whess, and is hardly in any better condition than the ragged hobbit. Most of the feline's right side, from ear tip to waist, is marked with scratches, tears, soot, and burns, with that arm resting in a scarf improvised as a sling. Deftly sweeping past her companion, Satoshi cautiously eyes the tavern's occupants before making a hasty line for the cozy armchairs away from the bar, selecting and settling into one quickly. While her face remains unreadable, there's an obvious edge to the feline, with her ears twitching at the slightest sounds and tail in a near constant flitting motion. She's still getting used to being in the company of others without trying to drain them of blood, and it quickly takes a toll on her nerves.
Kris - who was growing restless sitting in Kelay's tavern - chose possibly the worst night to come to The Corpse to spy on the vampires. Unknown to the pregnant woman a thrall and newly created vampire where amongst the patrons there tonight, as she pushes her way through the front door. She pauses just inside, to catch her breath, (curse her pregnant body), and to peer around. She spots a familiar face, which brings a grin to her face. Little did she know, but Satoshi was more than she had been in their previous encounter. Kris slowly makes her way over to Satoshi, taking a seat in the armchair next to hers. "Well, hi. It's been awhile, yeah?"
Whess allows the door to close behind him. Quickly he followed on Satoshi's heels, a dog to master for the most part -- the Thrall looked eager and uneasy at the same time. Coming to stand beside her, the older man leans against his white staff idly. He also struggled with the urge. More so than Satoshi, or so he would suspect. This was a test. Sweat already adrorned his face, one could say he was sweating blood if he had any to sweat. His mouth opened, closed, opened again while words were sought out to break the silence. Kris did it for him, he summed her up in a matter of moments from head to foot. Not looking for gold, as the bard may have once done -- but pondering how easy of a meal a pregnant woman would make. Still standing at Satoshi's side, obidiently, his diverts his gaze to the mage - waiting her response. Pondering it. Doing anything to distract himself. A hand ran through shaggy hair whilst his scarred face contorted. So many emotions flickered through him at a moments notice, so many dragging him through the pits. A growl eminated under his breath, and reluctant motion brought his tiny body to rest just perfectly beside Satoshi on the armchair's.....arm.
Agoyoanye slides into the tavren. She pulls off her hood and takes a deep breath in. The familar scent of her favorite place to unwind.
Satoshi doesn't trust herself to speak. Or has forgotten how to. She's not really pondering the why's of her sudden tongue-tied state, mind and gaze locked on Kris the instant the woman sits down in front of her. She can almost hear it, that second, smaller heartbeat pulsing in time with Kris's. And she can certainly smell the potency of the human's blood, it practically sings to the fledgling as it pumps through veins. It's a painfully alluring song calling to the undying thirst that runs rampant beneath Satoshi's calm exterior. Well, what -was- a calm exterior, for now the feline sits rigid in her seat, with only her eyes moving as they flick from Kris's throat to her extended belly. The only thing that's keeping her in place, for now, are the claws of her undamaged arm embedded in the chair's arm, anchoring the feline. But that tiny bit of resolve is quickly failing with her sorry sources of stability. Whoever decided a Wrathful sentient weapon and a hobbit Thrall were good company was sorely mistaken.
Morvious makes his way to the bar's counter and orders a strong drink with a splash of hot pepper. The forsaken elf appears to be looking for trouble.
Kris takes note of the behaviors of both Satoshi and the hobbit behind. The woman frowns, slowly rising from her seat; after dedicating a life to hunting the undead bastards, she could spot when someone wasn't they seemed. The woman ruffles at her short, unruly hair, a soft sigh escaping her. "Well, apparently I'm making you tense for...some reason. Maybe I should just head home. Got the fiance waiting there anyways, ya know?" Her she grins, still unaware of the fact that Satoshi has tied the knot since they last spoke.
Caedan enters the bar from above, or rather the stairwell leading upstairs. She's carrying an unlit cigar, a pair of men's pants, and a handful of silverware. The latter is dropped off at the bar, with a knowing look shared between psychic and Steadman, until she turns and paces toward the fireplace, and the great goblin hearth guarding it.
Morvious searches for a vacant seat to observe the crowd from afar. This task only takes a few seconds when he spots a table at the far eastern wall.
Whess wanted to eat her. He didn't hide it the way Satoshi did. He had no notions of a child, nor would care. Blood. He thirsted, desired. Yet the hunt was his own, in his own way - unoriginal yet it would suffice to his standards. He smiled at Kris, showing two tiny fangs amongst his brown teeth. "What's your name lass?" He growled out the word lass, there would be no preposition involved. The staff was clutched tighter, pallid knuckles turning whiter still. "Got one yeah?" A few inches, just a few, he scooted toward her on the chair's arm as she stood. He was tensing in his own right now, preparing.
Kasyr strides into the tavern, if only to give a quick glance about the room...and abruptly stop. Really, with the occasional appearance of one familiar or interesting person being the limit of what the tiefling has stumbled in upon for the last while- the sudden clustering of his wife, an odd little hobbit that seemed to grab at his attention...and Caedan? "Not exactly a full house, et all, but I do suppose it es close enough." That said, the hybrid simply steps to the side of the door and leans up against the door frame, trying to get a bearing on what exactly is with all the tension in the air. In the meanwhile, he can always offer Caedan a little wave, however.
Satoshi's frozen state vanishes just as suddenly as it had arrived, provoked into reacting by the movements of both Whess and Kris, and Asorial's silent nudges. The feline's free hand releases the chair almost reluctantly before darting out, trying for a frigid, clawed grip on Kris's arm as Satoshi rises to her feet as well. While lines of tension are obvious in the mage's entire frame, her face is set in a hauntingly pleasant expression and her voice is a soft purr, "Why leave so soon~? Stay awhile~." Eyes flash with a predatory light as she glances sidelong at Whess for a brief second. "We could have a bite to eat, hm~?"
Kris stops in her tracks, her pale eyes focused intently on Satoshi, Whess for the moment gone mostly unnoticed. The corners of her lips twitch before she nods slightly, a hand protectively, and subconsciously, resting on her stomach. "Alright, fine. So...how have ya been?" The woman finally moves her eyes from the feline, focusing on Whess. Her eyes narrow as she studies the hobbit carefully, her mouth setting into a frown. Her eyes flicker back over to Satoshi. "And, I'm not that hungry at the moment." All other occupants of the tavern go unnoticed as the woman finds herself in a very difficult predicament.
Whess nods eagerly, instantly. "Oh aye, I'm starved. Starving. A bit thirsty too." A pale tongue runs across thin lips whilst Kris is regarded as nothing more than raw meat. He scooted from the chair's arm and, with staff in hand, came to reside on Kris' other side. The short Hobbit cranes his neck upward to look at Kris in the eyes. Those eyes. He swam in the delight her blood would bring, anticipation prevalent in his body language. Tightly he gripped the girls other arm, "Sit, yes? Have a seat. I'm Whess. Yes." the Thrall could not dwell though, not with work about. "You're very pretty, has anyone ever told you that?" Looking at Satoshi he nodded, suggestively. He was ready. Eager. Zealous. "So pretty. Don't you think Satoshi?"
Caedan 's attention focuses on the tiefling for a concentrated period of time; eventually she looks away without even so much as a frown of acknowledgement. The scene playing out is a familiar one, one recounted in many a mind she's rummaged around in, so she's moderately indifferent to Kris' inherent peril, though Satoshi earns a thorough twiceover. She'd not been a vampire when they'd last met.
Kasyr can't help but frown at Caedans reaction, the hand that had been waving abruptly snapping down to his side. Once more the hybrids attention drifts, casually glancing over to see how the situation had developed. Only, rather then the feline warranting the most attention- it's her hobbit companion which seems to fascinate the tiefling. The way he waited upon her- the odd empathic imprint which has been left upon him. At once fascinated and curious, the hybrid slowly pushes off from the wall- gradually navigating his way across the room- to take a position behind Whess. Really, the hybrid can't help but scrutinize the diminuitive creature, waiting for some sign to confirm his suspicion, "Are tu hers...I wonder...?"
Sidonia breezes back into the Corpse with the appropriate companion of the winter chill, dusting snow from her curls as she steps into the familiar pub. Brows rise and smile widens at the sight of so many familiar faces, but something doesn't feel quite… right. There's a sinister undertone to this gathering, familial as it feels to her. Even so, she greets all with a smile, including the oft-ignored Steadmen, who endlessly cleans the glassware.
Satoshi's grip on the Kris's wrist tightens possessively as Whess moves closer, a low growl for the thrall mingling with her purred reply to the human. "Never asked if -you- were hungry, did I?" The start of slowly redirecting Kris back into her chair comes to an abrupt halt, Satoshi's vulpine ears suddenly perking forward. She knows that scent and presence all too well, even when her ravenous hunger is howling at her for fulfillment it is not so easily ignored. Her focus is torn from Kris and redirected to Whess. Or rather, the tiefling standing behind him. Her expression goes through a series of shifts upon seeing Kasyr, from delighted to guilty, anxious to wary, and beneath it all is a completely lost and helpless look. Part of her doesn't want to release her potential meal while the other half wants to prove to him she's learning self-control. Once again, the feline is frozen in place, this time out of indecision.
Caedan moves from the warmth of the eerie fireplace toward the tiefling and social hunting party. She circumvents the table until she's standing behind Kasyr, standing behind Whess. Still without greeting, a hand reaches forward and tugs at his scarf; if he doesn't keep it in place, or pull it away from her, she'll let it fall to the ground. That same hand moves toward his neck, attempting to find something there, fingers working along his collarbone -- not suggestively, just plaintively, curiously, though with some degree of aloofness. The volatile, dementia-addled girl allows a dagger to slide free from her sweater sleeve, which she palms, not discreetly.
Orro slips into the tavern brushing the shortened strands of silver from her gaze as dark red eyes scan over what would appear as blobs of vibrant heat which make up the patrons. With stern rapping of her staff to the floor, a high pitched click is sent out over the tavern. Though unnoticeable by normal ears, it bathes the room with the noise to create a brilliant picture of sharp detail. Though brief, Orro takes note of the images she takes in and slowly stroll through the tavern, rapping her weapon to the floor with each step until she finds the bar. She would say nothing to anyone as she takes her seat, placing the staff in her lap.
Kris glances first at Satoshi then at Whess. Her pale eyes flicker to Kasyr for the briefest of moments before returning to the two who were posing more of a danger to her. "Blood-sucking bastards..." The woman mumbles to herself as she focuses on the shortest of the trio around her. "You, midget with fangs, get the hell off me. I'm not sitting down and I'm not staying here." She glances back up at Satoshi. "And I don't know why you became one, but you better learn to control, and fast, or you'll have no friends, only your next meal." The woman narrows her eyes at the point, trying to hide the fear that momentarily flashed in her gaze; oh, how Anaximander would be happy to know he's gotten in her head and weakened her. "Now, both of you, let me go."
Whess :: Hmm. Well wasn't this pretty. Angst filled teen with a knife, tiefling with anger issues, preggo being bitchy, and a hungry kitty. Well then. Whess' reaction - he'd been distracted three times over now - to Kris was a releasing of her arm, more so for Sato's growl than anything else. He knew. He would get what was his, scavenging the remains. Kasyr though. The voice. So familiar. Ah yes, the table. To his face, ancient history. But he understood the question all too well. "Yes." Was all he said. He didn't turn to face the tiefling, didn't do anything other than watch for Satoshi to make her move. He was ready and eager to devour.
Kasyr s' reaction to Caedan is rather typical for the tiefling, a brief look shot back towards the teen when she tugged upon his scarf...a fleeting attempt at pinning at least a small section of fabric down with his offhand to prevent what he determines to be an attempt to abscond or unravel it... It's sort of nostalgic really, and the odd feeling that comes with Sidonia's arrival only emphasises this. That being said, whilst this chain of events does bring a fleeting smile to the hybrids face- there's still a task at hand. Whess is once more given the hybrids attention, even as Caedans hand touch upon the hybrids skin- the tiefling moving to place one hand upon the back of the hobbits neck, "Good." And then, there's an abrupt shriek- a horrendous squealing of metal and something otherwordly splitting through the air- blackened steel jutting forth from the hybrids palm in the form of one elegant blade. Gospel loosed upon the tavern, that odious weapon threatening to pierce through the back of Whess' neck with it's chosen means of manifestation. "I get to kill you myself, then."
Satoshi's conflicted state becomes all the worse at Gospel's appearance, and not merely because the feline can't decide if she wants Whess dead or undead. No, the leading source of the feline's furthering shifting of attention is blamed on Asorial, Gospel's broodling reacting to the blade's sudden manifestation with silent, but potent, eagerness. From about Satoshi's neck, where its been residing nestled amongst the fur of the feline's jacket in the form of a pipefox, Asorial uncoils half of its furred serpentine length in a flash and lunges in the tiefling's direction in earnest. Kris's wrist is released, and she's altogether forgotten, as Satoshi yelps and is tugged sideways by the fox-snake hybrid's hold on her, dragging her half-stumbling toward Kasyr and his own weapon, and the hobbit between them.
Kris quickly takes in the scene before her, and now that's she's been released, the woman decides the best option is to leave. And so, with a final glance back over her shoulder, that's just what she does, and as quickly as she could manage, the woman heads for the door.
Whess should have known. Ancient history his ass. The screeching though, always an attractant. Whess whipped around, eyes wide - instinct begining its initiation - so naturally his pristine white staff was raised in defense, and as blade met mystical staff a few sparks flew off it and the thing got scratched. Now he was pissed. He really liked that staff. Alot. No words left his mouth, still gaping open with shock, but the tiefling was -- well, firstly - Thrall vs Vampire is like Giant to Pixie. Secondly, the tiefling was stronger than hell. Thirdly, and thusly in conclusion, the Hobbit just didn't have the strength to hold off Kasyr. Enough force cascaded upon his form that he was brought on to his back, Gospel still etching against the stave. Which came to reside against Whess' throat cutting off oxygen, and causing quite a large amount of uncomfortability. "Satoshi!" He gargled out, eyes so focused upon Kasyr he did not note the Feline already in motion impromptu.
Caedan is ignoring the brouhaha going on around her. She's currently obsessed with Kasyr's neck -- or rather, removing something from it, and it's not his scarf. At any faint sign of a scar, she'll draw her small blade toward it, and if left unhindered and to her own devices, she'll try and cut it out of him. It's obvious she doesn't mean him any true harm, or that blade would just be slid across his neck and she'd be done with it; rather, her brow is furrowed in concentration, lip sucked in, eyes narrowed, breath caught, and she's trying to be very precise in her intended, impromptu procedure.
Kasyr can't help but grin...well, up until he becomes duly aware of the situations growing complexity. Unfamiliar with Asorial, especially in it's familiar form, and with the sudden bite of Caedans dagger near the back of his neck, well...things were getting a bit hectic. Reacting as best as he can to the situation, the hybrid simply musters every bit of strength that he naturally has into thrusting his blade downwards- using his clash with Whess's weapon to better angle the tip down towards the hobbit. Whilst skewering the creature through the face is intended, the tiefling will more than happily settle for simply shredding the blade through Whess's shoulder if he can manage- to keep the hobbit pinned while he attends to the other pressing matter at hand. ...Caedans current attempt at excising the particularily odd infinity shaped scar on the hybrids collarbone. Really, the only thing the hybrid can think to do, is to fall forward, hoping to pull away from the teen- and hopefully prevent himself from faceplanting by means of catching the hilt of his sword and simply balancing in a sort of partially fallen position, "Mon Dieu~! What... I...Don't have time..!"
Agoyoanye pushes the door open. Brushing the snow from her clothing. "Damn snow!" she mumbles walking towards the bar needing a drink to warm her cold body up
Satoshi manages to stop her offkilter shuffling by means of Asorial at the same time that she reaches Whess. The hobbit's plea goes unheard, as does most everything else while the feline wrestles with the squirming form of the pipefox. "Nyeh! Hellfire! Stop it, dammit!" There's a short struggle between cat and familiar before Satoshi, in her building frustration, forcibly wills Asorial into its usual form of a glacial black scythe. In protest, or just out of wicked humor, the weapon gives one final defiance to the mage, weighing suddenly heavy in her hands so that she's set off balance and tips forward, the scythe's blade swiftly descending with the motion to embed its keen edge into the floorboard beside Whess' head. The damnable thing isn't quite as much a noisemaker as Gospel, but the odd crackling sound of ice coming from it could, possibly, be heard as quiet laughter.
Whess couldn't help but feel like the odd man out, what with Kasyr's Gospel and Satoshi's Asorial. He needed a cool name for his staff. Like twiggy or something. yeah. Twiggy. So. Twiggy, in response to the shift of weight from Gospel toward his face, is manuevered in such a way that Gospel was repelled - a burst of strength being relied upon whilst the tiefling was distracted - and the Hobbit, now temporarily free from restraint, begins to move out of the way. But not really. It just doesn't happen like that for him. Ever. Kasyr's blade does in fact come to reside within his shoulder. It hurt. Naturally. So the Hobbit made a noise, annoying, girlish, "Ouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuch!" Long and drawn out. "Gods be damned you bastard! Gods damn you!" Well. The staff got scratched. His tiny leg was brought up, the tip of his foot just long enough to reach Kasyr's groin. His barefoot would, in the very least, cause a bit of harm.
Caedan braces herself against Kasyr as he moves around, and still attempts to cut loose the flap of skin she's after, which when put that way, sounds suspiciously like a circumcision, but is in fact, not. She's getting jostled around enough to provide enough movement for her to be unable to get exactly what she's after, though she isn't giving up.
((oocness, but funny:
Trey plows into the tavern and doesn't stop as she searches for Kas. The sailor proceeds to close the rest of the distance in a running jump, landing on top of Kasyr, or rather, anyone on top of Kasyr.
Caedan slits Kasyr's throat.
Caedan said, "Oops." ))
Leodarkheart sits back and wonders what all he missed as he nodded off for a few moments.
Kasyr goes from having a chunk of his collar bone struggling to heal while it's being cut, to being kicked in the nuts by an individual suffering from impaired height, and...having a psychotic-but-oddly-helpful-in-a-roundabout-and-macabre-way hanging off of him? Yeah, this evening is just golden. Doubly so with the added weight bringing his face a foot or so from Satoshi's weapon. Really, the only thing that cheers up the hybrid at all- is the means by which he garners himself some extra support. ...What with the whole, ability to will Gospel into it's other various forms with one single vivid mental command- the Katana expanding into a broadsword whilst it's in Whess. That'll make up for the grievances asofar, "...Explanation. Now... S'il...te...plait." Okay, so being able to announciate when being stuck with sharp stuff is a definite perk to being an aberration.
Svogthos appeared silent as the night sky and swift as a sparrow in a dive. He'd watched enough and charged into the mess of psychopaths tangled in an inadvertant mess. First, Sato was the target of a flying side-kick, and not so much as a word out of the assassin, aiming to blind-side the poor fellow and assist the hybrid who was obviously having a very rough evening.
Ahjit is here, adorned tonight in his usual worn leathers and linens. As well as: Green facepaint that circled his eyes, covered his nose and left him with four whiskers starting at the corners of his mouth. And dirt. He was always covered with a bit of dirt.
Leodarkheart rubs his eyes, not sure if it is mind playing tricks or did the blade in Kasyr's hand just transform?
Satoshi offers Kasyr a greeting in the form of a grimace as she fights to remove Asorial's blade from the floorboards, the weapon having dug itself in and now outright refusing to let go. "Oh, hi, love. And...I. Don't. Kno-!" The mage's reply is cut short when the scythe decides then is a good time to release itself from the floor, sending Satoshi stumbling backwards. Which, relatively, conveniently places the hefty scythe's flat edge directly in Svogthos' kicking path. The impact of foot and weapon is enough to send the small feline spinning, but, really, when you've got a malicious little item like Asorial... such a movement tends to go to your advantage. As such, when Satoshi turns full-circle, its with the scythe's blade swinging with her, wicked blade tip level with Svogthos's spine. The sentient weapon may be in a mood to torment Satoshi, but that doesn't mean it's going to tolerate someone else trying to interfere, either.
Whess :: Son of a bitch. It was just never enough, was it? The hobbit couldn't catch a break. Of any kind. Not even a bread crumb trapped in a fat mans ass crack, not even that much. As the blade expanded, flesh was torn much like one would expect. Another girly noise escapes his lips, shrill and high pitched "Eeeeeeee!"....well..it hurt. Shup. Anywho. The Hobbit was more or less immobile. though he did watch Satoshi with fervor, anger piling up. "Kill hiiiim!" Dramatic, I know, but - he had a damned broadsword sticking out of his shoulder and was pinned to the floor. Twiggy, being ever-so-useful was swung with much strength, as much strength as the Hobbit posessed - toward Kasyr's head and inadvertently, Caedan as well.
Svogthos was actually glad he decided to wear armor today as he just had enough forward speed to out-maneuver that vicious toy in an only-just-so manner. But the fruits of the blade's labor weren't for naught as it nicked his backside in its painless sweep. Now irritated that he was actually damaged in some way during his action-movie-style-flying-side-kick, he draws one of his twin Falchions and turns to face Sato. "Hyte marg-ongnash. Girr ope un dalla." Truth was, the author of those words don't even know what they mean. Regardless, he'd face off against that weapon, rather than its wielder. "Ushtin!" After that, he drew and tossed a knife toward Satoshi but only using it as a distraction to lead the weapon away. Hopefully.
Trey enters the tavern much like a ninja doesn't. It seemed as if a brawl was mid... brawl. Not particularly in the mood for a fight--just trying to get away from a curious stalker-- the woman headed towards the bar, swinging far around the duelers. The door creaked open before the sailor even found herself a seat. It as pushed aside by the strength of a seven foot cobra, who wavered in the air for a moment before dropping back down to slither easier towards Trey. -By my scales, why would you bring us to such a rowdy establishment?- the snake thought, making Trey groan in response. Apparently she was the only one who could hear the cobra's thoughts, and it was making her look completely bonkers to her crew.
Ahjit thinks he found a weird weird night to try this place out.
Trey practically slams her head on the bar as the cobra winds his way up the stool next to the captain and raises himself up to eyelevel. -Really, good woman, this is hardly the place for a lady-.
Caedan is lost to the scuffle of combat and influx of patrons; she's up the stairwell and into the night via rooftop before anyone has the chance to notice.
Talisia knew she should have listened to her gut as soon as she pushed open the tavern doors. But she didn't it was just... well she heard the fight first and knew that she should turn around but she had to know what was causing all the ruckus. She nearly turned back twice and that was only the first half of the path. She'd thought about a few dozen times more before a single slender fingertip could even touch the tavern door. But now, now Talisia was inside the tavern and was immediately ducking towards the sideline hoping she'd be avoiding danger.
Trey insisted on a nice Vodka, and when it arrived in front of her, a sharp tsk sounded in hear head. -Really now, a proper lady would not drink-. This had been going on for days... and the woman had just about had enough, again. "I'm not a lady!" the sailor shouted, her outburst loud enough for her to realize that anyone not focused on the brawl now thought she was talking to herself...
Trey bought 1 dark vodka.
Trey drank a dark vodka.
Kasyr is liberated of the illucid teens hold, and just in time! No longer hindered by the movements of another, or the fear of falling onto a scythe face first- the hybrid finishes his descent to the floor- Evading being battered away by Whess stave. Really, the worst thing the tiefling has to cope with then, is just being smacked by the hobbits arm- which, serves to anger the hybrid really, "I apologise for this." The words are said, the tieflings tonality carrying an oddly distant quality, before both his hands jut forward towards Whess' throat- to squeeze the life out of the fledgeling. Not to strangle him- given the hybrid was fairly sure that wouldn't work on a member of the living dead- but rather, to constrict until Whess' neck could be broken and promptly ripped off. "...your existance was a mistake I will correct."
Satoshi is not in the best of moods. In fact, she's outright furious. Her excellent two-for-one meal has run away, her husband's trying to murder her thrall without so much as 'you want the honors?', her weapon is having a tantrum, and now some corpse-fellow has decided to attack her out of the blue! What a night. And to top it off, the initial excitement of this whole affair has worn off enough to leave the feline with a painful reminder that her right arm is -not- in perfect working order, in fact, it shouldn't even be out of its sling at the moment. Which just results in Asorial being dropped to clatter uselessly to the floor, the large scythe not working well as a one-handed weapon wielded by a petite feline. To further her foul mood, Satoshi misses the damn throwing knife in her distraction until it finds a new home in that already injured arm, immediately provoking a string of sailor-riffic curses from the mage. Amber-specked blue eyes lock on the interloping corpse as fangs are bared, curses shifting into an arrangement of words that seem almost song-like; the workings of a hasty spell while the knife is plucked out and dropped. Svogthos, and the rest of the group, are in for an unpleasant surprise given by means of the ice magus demanding the attention of the water and grog kept in barrels behind the bar, forcing them out of their containers with a geyser's display. Satoshi manipulates them then into a frosty wave that washes over the bar, and unwitting patrons, before the hyper-chilled wave moves to crash down in icy fury on the undead fellow, without putting in the effort to narrow her area of effect, letting the water freeze upon the floor once its hit and frosted whom it will hit. She's giving whole new meaning to the phrase 'chill out'.
Whess sighs. He was a mistake. His father used to tell him that when he put on girls clothes growing up, oh my. ~ But I do digress. Just a bit. The Thrall couldn't do much to protect himself, as large hands come to rest against tiny throat. Matter of fact, the only thing the older gay fellow could think of doing was to gouge out Kasyr's eye with his thumb, and he did such with much angst. He didn't want to die. Again. Yeah. But even as he was being strangled, the holds of Thrallyism kept their grasp, for his attention was on the one attacking Satoshi. All his thoughts revolved around her safety, and as such, more strength than usual was rendered. It's cold, suddenly. Damn cold. Damn woman. Damn women, really. The Hobbit gets a bit off the off shoot of Satoshi's attack. All he needed was his voice, and he could take care of this problem. Satoshi's problem. The tiefling trying to kill him. All of it. "Le-" Nope. Not gonna happen.
Trey was not particularly planted firmly in her seat, and so the wave washed her very easily to the floor, where she cursed up a proverbial storm before propping herself up, only to get a very large and quite annoyed snake dropped on her. -Well how unbelievably rude of them. If I were you, I would certainly not leave a tip. Mind if I borrow some of that body heat of yours? Cold blooded you know.-
Svogthos could see the ice coming from moments away. The undead thing didn't have much time before he whispered to his drawn sword "Turchon" in which the sword rather instantly turned into a flaming sword, but instead of fool-heartedly attacking Sato in the few moments he had left free of ice, he impaled himself upon the blade, and rather than being coated with ice and frost, his body became dangerously ablaze. While the initial wave of ice froze him snuffed the original flame, it wasn't long before the ice that coated a majority of his body turned into water. And being that he was undead, he could move with a body that was only semi-frozen. "Gurchek..." But this night, since he didn't really know Kasyr, his morale was relatively low.. and decided to use every chance he got to slip away into the shadows.
Shienth wasn't the most joyful of campers, even in the best of moods, but this? This was just-- cold. Upon his entrance, the draconian was welcomed by a heavy splashing, the result of a familiar Feline's icy magery. He didn't like the cold. Not. One. Bit. "Damnit!" was shouted, leading to an impatient stomping towards the bar; if he could even get to it with all the commotion, that is. He had half a mind to join in the fray, just to feel a few skulls crushing in his grasp, but... tonight just wasn't the night.
Kasyr is quite nearly gouged in the eye, and responds as viciously as he can; head snapping back, if only so that the tiefling can promptly jut his head forward to sink his teeth into Whess' hand. Gnawing, Chewing, Gnashing- there was no finesse to the motions, the hybrid was simply trying to maim- And then he was being iced over. Really, there's just something about having a massive wave of glacial energy plow into you, and promptly solidify that prevents most forms of retalitation. Enough to give a slight pause to the hybrid- to allow a bit of focus upon the other ambient feelings in the air. Really, it's enough to cause the hybrids hands to continue their fatally intended crushing- instead, remaining locked upon the hobbits throat in a vice like manner. Anyways, it was sort of a pain in the ass to try and wriggle your fingers when coated with a sheet of ice. "...rrr. Frroid...So...what..now." Rawr rawr, nom nom, Yeah, if Whess tries to take advantage of the lull, the hybrid is still going to try and chew his fingers off.
Talisia only had seconds to act when the wave came. She wasn't going to be able to stop it but she could keep herself from getting swept up. A few words in an ancient tongue, sung more than they were chanted and Talisia found herself almost surfing the wave. She hadn't planned to far ahead and found the pressure of it was about to throw her into someone. She closed her eyes and tucked herself into a ball to brace herself, not expecting to become a weapon herself. She did manage to note that Tebryn was ironically pushed in the opposite direction of her, so much for her bodyguard able to pick up what she slacked. She peeked open her eyes to see herself in course for a head on collision with Kasyr, "Kasyr!" She cried out in warning.
Trey 's eyes narrow to a slit as a rather large and fairly heavy snake coils up on top of her and uses the woman as a heating pad.
Satoshi's done. Spent. Finished. Finito. The pesky zombie has decided to leave her be, and with the force of her temper having gone into conjuring up that wave, Satoshi's left with just a bad mood and unsatisfied hunger. Grumbling miserably to herself, the feline simply plops down on the floor beside Asorial, bringing her knees up to bury her head against. Currently, she just doesn't care anymore about what's going on, pouting is of far more importance. And so, pout she does, while others deal with the aftermath of her spell, and tiefling and thrall carry on with their dispute.
Whess :: The hand, much like Whess, was gnawed on. Life gnawed on Whess. Omnom. Nomnom. He lost a finger, here, a tendon there - it was a mess. Well then. Mostly frozen, as Kasyr was, the Hobbit garggled out a response: "I shove my hand up your ass." Why not. Hardly tangible though, chances are the word 'hand' would be confused with another equally large part of his body. Ohyeah. Pain was held off, at bay, by the pure fact he was going to die in a moment. Unfortunately, he was honestly more frozen than Kasyr. Frozen to the floor below.
Kasyr has an inkling that when he thinks back on this day, this will likely go down in history as the worst last words he's ever heard. Which is to say~ The very moment Whess ceases speaking- there's a rather thunderous cracking noise that comes from the pairs vicinity. With a sudden vivid pulse of spiritual energy emanating from the hybrid, every bit of ice about himself and Whess would burst off- sending bits of icy shrapnel in every direction. Not wasting a second, that very same mess of conjured energy would be shoved outwards from the hybrid with a simple vocalised spell, dredged up from the memories of one of the myriad people he's consumed. The kicker, of course, was that this had to take the form of fire. But not just any fire~ No the hybrid could hardly be content at that. This particular bit of flame was more spiritual in nature, a knack picked up from the latest soul to have integrated itself into the hybrids spirit. Like a ravenous beast, emerald flames would spill out from the hybrids flames- moving to engulf Whess like some delicious morsel. To consume and pull his spirit into the hybrids body. All so perfect for the raveno- THUD~! ...And yeah, cue Talisia promptly impacting into the tiefling and bowling him over mid spell. Whether or not Whess had been reduced to ash, the hybrid can't rightly discern the cause or intent behind the attack, having been so transfixed upon the fledgeling...Which meant that those gouts of spirit fire were now surging forward undirected through the tavern. ...On the brightside, they weren't focused?
Trey attempts to rise, but gives up.
Talisia twisted her body as she felt the impact, rolling she found herself covering the small hobit, though how injured he was she didn't know as she was focused on the burning sensation she felt starting to lick at her skin. She cries out in pain, losing her composure as a sense of melancholy and agony mix in her voice and the emotions press in the air, as if weighing into others, a sympathatic link forming but to who she didn't know. A word is moaned out again in an ancient tongue and air swirls fueling the flames while at the same time providing some coverage for the three at it's source. Tali, Kasyr, and Whess.
Whess :: He's still stuck. Twiggy! Help him! No. I'm busy being a staff. You named me Twiggy you git, go screw yourself. Kasyr's impromptu spell casting was interupted, but as previously stated, he was still stuck. By the sword. The Thrall in him wanted him to crawl behind Satoshi for protection, but instead, freezing his ass off - he sang. Because Kasyr's spell didn't do much more than hurt the lil 'guy a bit. " -- " Nope. Nothing came out. Though bardic energy did begin to swirl about, tendrils of magic and such. Use your imagination. So he did something rather uneventful, he laid there. Til unfrozen of course, at which point he freaks out. Tally lands on him, he's protected - those ice shards had cut him up a bit. It's all a beautiful revolving of the World Called Hollow. Tune in next week, when Kasyr discovers Whess wearing Satoshi's dress and all hell breaks lose.
Trey manages to get to her feet, now that the snake had warmed up and gotten off of her, climbed onto a stool, and ordered a drink--nay-- TWO drinks, one for the brave soul who shall have songs written about him.
Satoshi puts her pouting on hold at the sound of breaking ice, unable to stop herself from looking for the source of her cherished element's protests. Those cries of pain from others? Not as important as her ice shattering. Oh, of course. It was Kasyr doing the damage, as she should have expected... But, any thoughts of resuming her childish grumbling after that are put to rest with her glance granting her the sight of now rampant green flames headed her way. "Aw, hellfire." There's a rather clumsy bit of casting following her unhappy curse, calling up the water soaking the tavern into a wavering, fluid barrier around the cat. Which provides her a convenient, flame-extinguishing shield as she trudges toward the trio, flinching each time fires hiss against her watery barrier. Tali's summoned swirl of air is outright ignored by the cat once she reaches them, her focus only for Kasyr. Letting the water dispell--and splash everyone anew--Satoshi quite simple moves to smack the tiefling upside his head before, with ears pressed flat in an unhappy set, she growls out in a miserably quiet voice, "First. No more fire, dammit. Second. I'm tired, and hungry. Can we leave soon...?"
Satoshi's all out of serious for the evening. Pretty sure the gods could descend into the tavern and she'd just blink and offer them a drink.
Kasyr is smacked and offers the feline a dejected mutter of, "You started it, madamoiselle frostbite." Not overtly concerned as to Whess, given his status of- pinned to the floor with freaking giant ass broadsword- and with a Tali atop him, the hybrid simply spits out a chunk of the hobbits hand, before gradually slumping up to a standing position. "...Anyways, I was resolving your problem, since you hadn;t- unless of course you've decided to keep him, Cherie." Offering Whess a decidely cold look, the hybrid, simply places his right arm across his stomach before falling into a brusque bow, "..Either way, ...I have no qualm in leaving with tu..cherie- et I do apologise for the inconvenience- but this does need to be resolved. Do you keep him, kill him- or do I resolve it. Quickly now...Since, I'd rather mimimise what damage es to follow." And hell, he is being somewhat honest. Even as he bowed, his left hand is far from idle- intricate gestures of his fingers seeming to beckon the unnatural flame that hadn't gone out back to his person, to accumulate within his grasp. "...Lady Talisia, I feel compelled to warn vous- but if she decides to end the Thralls life- I will be acting, whether or not you remain in the way. I suggest you move, of course, Cherie."
Trey eyes the orange cobra. It still made her nervous. Nevertheless, it wasn't going to distract her from her dri-- wait orange cobra? It wasn't orange when she last sat upon the stool... A moment of clarity came upon Trey, for when she fell, the shades that were snug up in her hair had fallen back over her eyes, making Trey instantly five times as badass.
Shienth would agree.
Talisia moves to the side a bit she was singed a bit but... this was a hobbit... the same race as the diety that truly held her faith. 'Please...my friend... if I might offer a suggestion... Why not let Whess come under my wing so to speak... if he's to much of a mess up you know my husband, Lord Rheven, would be the first to end him if needed.'
Kasyr said to Talisia, "He is my darlings responsibility- and so it will be her decision I will heed on this. I simply see an opportunity to benefit from his demise on a personal level, should she choose not to sully her hands. ...Those with an affinity for magic are quite a treat...after all."
Shienth is -naked- and -steaming- on the -ground-. Honestly? This isn't out of the ordinary?
Talisia shakes her head, nope just another day in the land of hollow.
Kasyr is...well, -was- Cabal. He's been around eldritch horrors and whatnot. Maybe if shienth was a naked steaming mass of seething black goo, with pockmarks of pus bubbles which occasionally burst to reveal eyes with teeth on it...he might be somewhat wtf worthy. ..Maybe. Until then, nah- the tiefling doesn't even register him as slightly odd. Just sorta beaten up by accident. Whoops.
Satoshi, by way of stalling for time, hastily retorts with a, "I did -not- start it this time. That was you. We were just trying to coax someone into playing the meal. And..." The feline cringes visibly, "don't say 'keep him', please." The pure disdain she has for the idea of owning another doesn't sit well with Satoshi, and the circumstances with Whess have been particularly painful to that affect. That aside, however, she can't avoid making a decision any longer and looks up at Kasyr with a determined expression. "He's staying. For now. I've heard it can be reversed somehow, so if I can repair this, I want to." Satoshi's face might be set with certainty, but her voice is a growl of displeasure, the audible conflict between her feline nature to take the easy route and kill inconveniences, and her slowly growing humanity wanting to right inflicted wrongs. Fortunately for Whess, lazy instinct has lost this round, but not entirely, as she catches Talisia's words and hastily turns to her--before stumbling sideways to lean against the tiefling. "Ah! The archmage! If there's a way, he's got to be one that knows of it, yes~?" Satoshi may be saving Whess' (un)life, but that doesn't mean she's going to hunt done the rumors to properly save him all by her lonesome.
Whess just lays there with a shart of a look on his face. He always loved it when people talked about him like he wasn't there. Always. "Meh." Pain. Held off. But still. "Meeeh. Meh." Mumbled, he was a bit out of it. Almost dying, sort of. It takes alot out of him. Just ask Shienth.
Trey no longer can handle seeing the naked man on the floor, steaming or not. "Can I get ...several glasses of water, please?" Yes, Trey said please. Once they arrived, she promptly dumped them on Shienth. -Well that was rude. You really are quite the rude one, aren't you?- Voices in heads were to be ignored, the pirate decided. "Hey, you there, on the floor. Put some pants on."
Talisia nods her head as she rises, her composure already back as she stands with the ethereal grace her high elven heritage coupled with that of her now vampiric nature gives her. She looks to the draconian and notes his expression... was he in shock? She was still a healer, though healing a non vampire now took alot more out of her than it used to. She makes her way towards the man and took her singed cloak to wrap around him, it was better than nothing, "Any that need healing form a line please." Her voice was still melodic but authoritive. She may be a short 5'3 and slender but she knew when she needed to take actions.
Shienth barely reacted to water being poured on him, despite the immense cold provided creating a truly uncomfortable sensation. "I'm. Not. Moving," was muttered in response, and that was all.
Trey eyes Shienth with annoyance, then grabs something from her satchel.
Trey dropped 1 picnic blanket.
Trey proceeds to cover Shienth with a picnic blanket. Out of sight, out of mind, you know?
Shienth said to Talisia, "Not. Moving."
Kasyr wiggles his off hand at the hobbit, in a seemingly chiding manner, "You should be a fair bit more grateful to your mistress, monsieur. Or you'd find out just what kind of unpleasent things I'm able to do to vous." That said, the hybrid simply leans right back against the feline, both hands slipping into his pockets as he offers the feline a look, "I try not to bother him with...matters which might be considered trivial- but if your mind is set upon this matter, I will offer my support, for whatever little that may be worth. ...Which, means you have the leave of myself and my wife to pursue this particular course, Lady Talisia. I suppose I ought to wish you luck in this endeavour." As the hybrid speaks, Gospel shifts once more, the blade thinning out, if only to grow oddly...cylindrical. Within moments, that odd black material rounds itself out, if only to grow particularily odd lines along it's surface. ...Unforunately for Whess, this promptly reveals itself to be a coiled up serpent, which promptly wriggles it's way out from the gaping hole in him- and carrying whatever chunks of him might have gotten wedged in it's scales. ...Really, the bastardly thing seemed to be laughing. Not that Kasyr is paying attention. No, he's still talking all matter-of-factly, "...If you are absolutely intent on remedying this, I can possibly see if I can find any sort of resolution, either from my goddess- or from the fountain of knowledge that es all the people I've...consumed." ...Yeah, Whess is definitely getting a look after that comment.
Whess :: Pain catches up to him and yeah, he is like *snoresnoredysnoresnore* and what not all passed out.
Talisia shakes her head at the man, "You don't have to move." She taps one of her bracelets and seems to remove it only for the bracelet to be revealed to actually be a staff. She hadn't had to rely on this particular staff in a while but she wasn't sure of her limits now that she was Vampire and just how much of her abilities and what level she maintained them at. She began to chant softly under her breath, the staff of the healer practically touching him but not, it's ivory aura glowing softly, like candlelight as an idea came to her. Instead of individual she could send out the light to wash over those willing to accept it and heal as much as they wanted magically... then... they could seek out the healer of their choice of course for potions and salves and such... so many healers were still in the land... but... she was not going to witness anyone dying tonight... she didn't want to start feeding off of the blood of the dead... she had a feeling it would be a bad idea.
Shienth had, truthfully, already began to regenerate his skin; not noticeably, but at a cellular level. From underneath the picnic blanket that Trey had so kindly, lovingly, and thoughtfully placed atop his singed, steaming not-quite-corpse, a rustling began, likely a reaction to Talisia's healing capabilities. Perhaps stubbornness, or perhaps through the boon of magic, Shienth was able to rise to his knees and crawl from the Tavern. Hell, he'd likely be safer in a den of wolves.
Satoshi might have thanked Talisia, if the woman hadn't moved to begin tending to the unfortunately injured spectators. This does, however, leave Satoshi with not much better to do than carry on leaning against her tiefling, even if Asorial disapproves of continuing to go ignored on the ground. So, with the feline preoccupied with momentarily tuning out the world, her damnable weapon opts for mimicking Gospel and taking on its pipefox form again, and making its way back to Satoshi--after pausing long enough regard the unconscious Whess in a smug manner. Once returned to the mage, however, the furry little serpent deems events settling too quickly into a boring pace and promptly makes itself scarce. For the first time that day Asorial goes dormant, leaving Satoshi glancing back at the sudden appearance and disappearance, and doing a double-take. A triple-take, and finally a hard blink and one last look at her tail. Tails, rather. With a half-strangled laugh, Satoshi buries her head against Kasyr's chest. "Hellfire... I'm so worn out, I'm seeing double... But, that'd be crazy. Two tails when there should be one is just... pure crazy. Right? Right...?" She's not sure she wants the tiefling to answer or not.
Kasyr blinks tiredly, and checks, before blandly replying to the feline, "Entirely right there's...erm." ...Yep, it's the hybrid's turn to look again, though he chooses to remain fixedly peering at it. "...That's...erm. That's quite something, mon amour. ...Crazy...Even. " Mumbling more to himself than her, the hybrid simply slips his arms about the feline, before tipping his head off towards the door, "...But there's enough of that here...so perhaps we ought to depart. Whess is Talisias charge now, anyways." Of course, Gospel just has to lunge at him midspeech- the pitch black serpent colliding with the tieflings body, if only to surge up along the surface of his clothes and skin- to reink itself upon his arms. "...Shall we?"
Satoshi groans unhappily and just tries to further hide against the tiefling. "Nyeh. Am I actually a polymorph and no one told me..? People don't -normally- change so regularly..." Heaving a sigh, the mage then offers a meek nod in answer to Kasyr's offer. "Home now? Yes, please." All else, even that frightening and seemingly inexplicable second tail, are shoved from the feline's mind so she can focus entirely on clinging to her hybrid in that 'I need reassurance that I'm not totally crazy' kind of way.
Kasyr leads Satoshi out of the tavern with a simple squeeze given to her waist, "On y Va~" Mind you, they aren't heading -straight- home. No.. They're only getting home after they each snack on a passerby, and the feline gets a firm talking to on the dangers of two vampires feeding on one person, and the repercussions of feeding on someone who might be especially missed if they are hurt or killed. ~Ahemdon'tnomonpregnantwomenunlessyouwanttokilleveryonetheyknowahem~
Satoshi gets a stern talking to, oh noes! She might actually behave herself for a full day this time.