RP:Ginger's Funeral

From HollowWiki

Main Graveyard, Vailkrin Cemetery

The Vailkrin evening is somewhat hard to distinguish from any other time of day in this perpetually twilit land. This particular evening, both moons are bright and the stars stare down like a billion tiny feral eyes upon the funeral preparations occurring below. Hordes of undead wander, vampires throng, ghosts shiver, necromancers stand about in robes looking scholarly and grim - the funeral is marked by the flag of Vailkrin flown at half mast, and all wear bands of national mourning, for this particular corpse in its little cow-shaped coffin is the shreds of the body of Ginger con Snapdragon, Theocratic Ruler of Vailkrin. Around the coffin are set a nest of thistles in bloom, and the tiny boxy itself lies atop a bed of softest, freshly culled bat wings. And before it, holding a book, facing the crowd, is Joliette Thorne.


Jolie waits for the crowd to gather, leafing through the book as she does so.


Firewing lies near the entrance, on a large pile of sand, where a grave once was. he sighs as he waits patiently for his Magic to return back to him on the bed of sand he made himself. his short red hair and Onyx Stud Earrings standing out on him brightly.


Kuzial stalks into the graveyard, flanked by two members of his elite House Stavret guard. At his side are his two fine swords, and sheathed on his back is Ginger's sword, 'Shattered Dream'. There is a look filled with contempt given to anyone who looks his way; but he makes no overtly aggressive moves. For all intents and purposes it seems like he is only here to pay his respects to the fallen. A brief hand gesture in the silent code of the drow commands his two flanking warriors to move to either side of the graveyard, and there to watch and wait. Kuzial gives Jolie a sly grin, before the armoured patron of House Stavret moves into a position where he can see everyone. There he waits, casually resting his hands on the hilts of his two fine swords.


Jolie glances up, offers Kuzial a somewhat blank look, offers Firewing a look that promises massive injury for desecrating a grave on a natonal holiday, and goes back to leafing.


Lahk stands beneath a tall bent tree some distance from the proceedings, his black fur a mask against the darker night, hidden in the shifting shadows the boughs afford him against the moons. He knew not the tiny terror now come to rest in her bovine bier, but respects that this is an occasion of state for the land of Vailkrin. The land of Thorne.


Firewing remains resting for a few more seconds, before sighing as he stands up. "Well...My magic is back...I suppos I shall be off..." as soon as he stands up, the sand he was lying on, slowly turns back to the Grave it once was as he brushes himself off. He then begins to Cast Recall, trying to return to Cenril.


Jolie's book is an unassuming volume. The flesh it is bound in is plain, unremarkable but for it being some sort of hide. Those standing near, however, might find their own flesh creeping.. just a little, for the now.


Kuzial said to Firewing, "That is probably wise."


Firewing said to Kuzial, "I came here by Accident anyway...just waiting for my magic to return...hopefully I'll cast the right spell this time...I was always used to flying around everywhere..."


Saiyah found it hard to be here. Word of mouth had spread quickly, and the patrons of the Corpse had made sure the naga had caught wind of the tragic event, as well as the current event. She didn't know Ginger by any personal interactions, but she did know of the woman's power and authority. Slithering in from the north, she'd aim to slip behind the main crowd.


Kirien 's not following Kuzial but he's not far behind him, sauntering up the graveyard's wide pathway with a frustratingly unreadable expression painting his features. He seems more focused on mapping out the contours of the blood-hued jewel in his amulet than on anything else, actually, fingertips tracing its faceted edges and the carvings surrounding them. Mostly the empath looks pensive. Part of him seems mildly excited somehow.


Kuzial ignores Firewing's words, and returns his attention to Jolie.


Jolie seems to be waiting for the incoming crowd to gather and grow still. She does note Kirien's arrival, a rather unreadable glance thrown to Kuzial after, her brow raised and lips pursed briefly, before flipping another page.


Kasyr meanders upon the scene, the Kensai sporting an absolutely vexed expression which only grows further accentuated upon recognition of Stavret. Beyond his less than pleasent mien, he does not look overtly different, the trenchcoated tiefling-turned-vampires' solitary addition to his normal gear being a burnt and battered tophat, which seemed to be barely intact. For the moment, he simply takes up a relatively withdrawn position in the gathering- favouring the outskirts of those present, though perhaps...somewhat moreso towards the location Kuzial occupied.


Kuzial feels Grieve tugging at his conscious when Kasyr arrives, and the drow barely conceals his snarl of rage. But again he doesn't make any overtly aggressive moves towards the Kensai. He stands there, resting his hands on his weapons, faintly resembling a coiled snake that is ready to strike.


Firewing enters the Graveyard a second time looking around again. He spies the grave he was resting at earlier and sighs. "well, I guess I should stay and enjoy the funeral..." He sits down, turning the Grave back to a Sand bed as he lies back on it, closing his eyes and waiting, listening.


Satoshi 's present, if not all that visible, as the fox shaped magus has taken refuge within Kasyr's battered tophat. At least the poor gear's burns allow her a hole or two to peek out of for the watching of the funeral, but aside from that Satoshi isn't making an official appearance. Yet.


Firewing continues resting on the Sand bed that was once a Grave and sighs as he continues breathing the smell of the Graveyard. "Ahh...this smell brings back old memories..."


Kuzial said to Firewing, "This is a funeral. If you do not stop your senseless prattling it will be you who next joins Ginger in the afterlife."


Jolie glanced up, then, and cleared her throat. "Welcome all, to this most... solemn occasion." She glanced down to the beautifully-crafted miniature stone cow that was to serve as Ginger's coffin. "For the passing of a national leader is always solemn. Ginger con Snapdragon lies before us. Well, bits of her do. She ruled this nation with an iron ledger and not a small amount of chaos. Those who would remember her fondly, I invite you now to step and speak a few words."


Firewing sighs as he listens to the drow."Prattling, it may be, but what else have I to do? It is either here, or back to my desert home, and I have tired of killing innnocent wanderers of the desert. I rather would be here as a person, and besides..." he looks up, noticing others are talking as well. "It hasn't officially started yet, I can 'Prattle' all I want..."


Kirien taps once or twice at the trinket that's still almost entirely arresting his attentions, though he does spare a quick glance or two upwards to quietly acknowledge Kasyr's presence - and to curiously observe his path through tombstones both recent and crumbling. His tiny octopus companion, strange little feathery-limbed, semi-translucent thing it is, has taken up its usual spot whirling round the vampire's head, occasionally tugging at his hair. Though his gaze had dropped back to the stone, Kirien's ears have swivelled in Jolie's direction in a clear sign that he's listening. He remains still.


Firewing sighs as he closes his eyes and remains quet, listening to the preacher speak words of Ginger.


Redhale might have been a little late, but then a prompt response from the being during these times was highly unlikely. The first thing that would be noticed about his arrival was strangely enough not the elegant dark clothings that had replaced his tattered robes, but the fact that in file behind him stood two ranks of armoured undead soldiers, each one with their face painted to some likeness of Redhale's own mask.


A contingent of the Vailkrin Guard can be heard tromping nearby, to the north. Another, from the south.


Kuzial steps forwards to speak. He eyes those gathered, his gaze ambiguous in its intent, though as always his scarlet eyes burn with barely controlled insanity. When he speaks his unconsciously euphonious voice rings out, "Ginger was an idiot. I know it, you know it. She died because of it. Such is the fate of the stupid." He snaps a short bow to the gathered masses, before stalking back to the spot he once occupied, an altogether dangerous expression plastered on his face.


Jolie looks expectantly at Kasyr.


Hanan is late, but there at the outskirts of the group, leaning one shoulder against a particularly ostentatious obelisk--compensating much, dead guy?--with her arms crossed over her chest. Was that Jolie officiating? Ruttin' really? Lita had best be down here somewhere, she thought. Still, the eyes that alight on Jolie and her book laugh.


Firewing opens one eye as he looks at the drow and sighs as he closes his eyes again and continues listening, being silent.


Jolie noted the drow's speech with another blank sort of look, her gaze wandering off shortly after to note Redhale's presence.


Lahk lopes forward to pass near the casket, which looks suspiciously like a cream pitcher on closer inspection, and pauses to lift his head to the crowds. His words are thick about his fangs, and low in the voice of a solemn growl. "It is told, that Ginger was all that government should be: Small, green and deadly." He plucks a flower from his few belongings and casts it upon the memorial moo, his parting words: "May her pint-sized soul find eternal rest. Once the paperwork clears."


Kirien shoots Kuzial an altogether amused sort of glance following his speech, lips curling at the corners; the ghost of a smile. That deliciously fiery emotion is almost tangible again and he's subtly grasping at it in the air to draw it in.


Kuzial ignores Kirien entirely, or at least appears to.


Jolie is convinced they're both queerer than a three-legged duck, and does her best to ignore both of them.


Kasyr briefly rolls his eyes up, as though attempting to stare up at his hat, before his gaze redirects towards Kuzial. A venemous hiss escapes his lips, with such sibilance that might be mistaken for his serpentile companion, before he takes account of the 'military' presence thats arrived. Sparing a glance for the interloper, Firewing, he can't help but shake his head and offer a sigh of disdain.


Saiyah just raised an eyebrow. There was a lot more going on that she knew of.. Quietly glancing back and forth, she'd watch and study everyone's expressions.


Jolie looked pointedly at Kasyr, once more.


Firewing continues breathing in and out, lying on a Bed of Sand where a Grave once stood, listening intently to the words of the audience speaking about Ginger. His Onyx stud Earrings shining off the moonlight, and his short red hair making him appear bald.


You said, "Anyone else wishing to offer a few words in memoriam, do so now."


Kuzial snaps his gaze to the Kensai as he hisses at him. The drow smirks and quietly says, "I am not injured any more, coward." Before flashing him a pernicious grin filled with the promise of pain.


Kasyr said to Saiyah, "One moment. I have...things I need to say."


Redhale remained silent and stationary, both him and the two long lines of soldiers standing to attention behind him staring straight ahead at the pixies coffin. Whether they were bothering, or indeed able, to listen to the speeches being made couldn't be told.


Hanan quirks a brow at the drow, lips curving lopsidedly, but says nothing. Kirien gets a brief glare.


Firewing opens one eye as he peers around at the crowd.


Kirien 's pretty much memorised Hanan's glower and assumes it is her permanent expression around him. Which, mostly, it is. His response is a bit of a half-hearted wave before he's shifting to lean against the nearest grave, and huffs a chilly breath.


Saiyah remained quiet as the Kensai strode off. Arms crossed, and an index fingernail was chewed on. Back and forth she looked to the drow, then the front of the crowd.


Jolie's lips were moving a little as she stared at the page she'd finally found, the way people do when they are memorising things.


Kasyr is fairly brusque in making his way to the front of the gathering, the vampire doing his utmost to just push forward in a straight line. From there, he simply turns back to face those gathered, the words coming simply enough, "Ginger was an ally, a friend, ..et sometimes a bit of a headache bit she was one of the few who I could always count upon- possessed of a guile and folly that served her well, especially given she willingly choose to take office in this city. I suppose, enfin, I can't really do her much justice in words- since she was indescribably illucid. But, I think her first words to me might really sum up what I'm feeling at this exact moment." It's at this point the Revenant abruptly turns to stare at Kuzial, fingers pointed in the psychotic drows direct, "Imma punch you in the face." And it's with a crack of his knuckles that he simply steps down and heads to the back of the crowd.


Firewing closes his eye again as he goes back to resting his eyes and listening to the crowd speak about Ginger.


Kuzial suppresses his desire to draw his weapons and attack the Kensai. Instead he merely laughs, the sound hollow and devoid of mirth, before returning his gaze to Jolie; a subtle signal with hand perhaps missed by most is flashed to certain shadows around the graveyard..


Jolie said, "Thank..you. Kasyr." She cleared her throat again, and when her lips next parted an unintelligible stream of words spilled out, guttural, sickening, blasphemous to ear and mind. A groan went up among all undead present, unliving eyes rolling in their heads and limbs in various stages of decomposition shivering. In the sky above, a ragged-winged shape loomed across the moonlight. Indigo lights popped and flared, and the graveyard itself appeared to shudder as a mighty tremble rumbled underfoot. When the canta ended, Jolie was swarmed by shades, shadows, phantoms. She grinned, her fanged smile shining white from the gloom that had possessed her. "And now..." She laughed. "Let us celebrate Ginger's passing, in much the manner in which she lived."


Saiyah with heavy question in her.. eye, simply shook her head at Kasyr.


A dutiful undead lackey and his rotting mate lifted the tiny casket toward a black silk sling that would lower it into its little sarcophagus.


Firewing opens his eyes as he hears those words. "...hmm...interesting..." he smiles as he stands up and looks around, the sand bed turning back into a grave as soon as he does so.


Kuzial seems altogether unhappy with the way this is going; he has seen Joliette's bared power before. But he remains almost motionless, his gaze shifting from her to Kasyr.


Redhale and his group were not quite so affected as the general gathered undead by Jolie's words but that was mainly just discipline, for it was clear to see even they trembled slightly.


Jolie snapped shut her cribbed notes from the Forsaken Book of the Dead. All seemed in suspension then, the air redolent with the weight of something wicked this way coming.. She offered the crowd an icy little smile as the coffin lowered. "And so we commit the remains of Ginger to their final rest. May she cause the fires of hell to eternally regret her presence."


Hanan figets, a bit uncomfortably, and eyes the sky. "Ruttin' hell is this, then?"


Kirien slowly lifts his focus from his bloodstone as bones shudder beneath undead flesh from somewhere close by. It's not the most pleasant of feelings and the growing sensation of the macabre beginning to thicken the air is not helping. Still, he's curious, and remains.


Lahk sights his snout for the moon and stars and brings his ululating howl to the cacophonous tumult as the earth heaved and the coffin passed into the soil. Dark and frightful forms sweep from the spaces between shadows and pass over the creature of the night, as even time seems to warp, again. His wail clips short at the snap of the book, and he smiles at Jolie's words, nodding his assent.


Perhaps that sense of foreboding would grow, fester in the hearts and minds of the gathered, the phobomantic cantrip included in the final stream of verbal ugliness spoken by the necromancer rippling through the aether. Fear magic - Jolie's next-to-final frontier. In the not-too-distant distance comes the sound of stone collapsing, shattering, a decadent roar, a chorus of screams. Seems somebody has broken new ground on some... previously desecrated site.


Firewing looks around at the others curiously as he senses fear start to build up inside them. "Hmm..." he continues to think as he looks around


Redhale spoke some words of his own, now that the body was being committed to the earth, though his voice was wrecked enough and the words foreign enough that their exact meaning was difficult to discern. At any rate, they appeared to be intended for his own kind of people, as the undead beings in the audience reacted more than anyone else.


Firewing looks to where the sound came from and smiles as he waits for the creature to show itself. "Oh,a surprise..."


Hanan feels the little dark hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Shoulders stiff, she turns and abruptly looks behind her. "Ruttin'..." One hand digs into her coat pocket and locates her flask. She did not like this. Not one bit.


Kasyr s' posture is subtly shifting, one foot gradually sliding back to find purchase against a tombstone as the entirety of his body tenses up. Despite himself, he still finds himself questioning the possibilities of outright carnage erupting- the presence of both phantasmal apparitions and solders seen and otherwise coaxing the Kensais hackles up. Nonetheless, he makes no real action yet, beyond raising one hand up to his hat, and subtly nudging it towards one side of his head. "...Merde."


The scrape and rattle of bones sounds loud from the north. More screams. The creak of something massive moving, which once did not move and should never have begun to move again. Yet, it comes, and in its wake things spoil and rot.


Saiyah felt a mild tingle on her left bicep, something dark reacting to the scene at present. A spider sense of the sorts, you could say. Hanan wasn't the only one to feel hairs rise up on the back of their neck, Lahk's howl tearing her attention away from both the sky and the dead. She gave the Kensai a nudge of the elbow, obvious question painted across her expression.


Kasyr gives Saiyah a particular look, which seems to carry undercurrents of "I-Told-You-So".


Jolie smiled again. "That's about it. Drinks at the Corpse." She paused, raised a forefinger. "Oh yes. And Vailkrin is... mine. Any questions?"


Satoshi 's reactions to the outside events go unseen, although Kasyr is unlikely to miss the claws sinking into his scalp, and Kirien may perhaps catch the familiar empathic essence of his sibling bearing a dark tinge of apprehension.


Kirien suddenly appears decidedly nervous, flinching into the shadow of the tombstone that had previously provided a support to his lean. Hands leave the bloodstone amulet and allow it to fall and rest against his chest while fingers delve instead into his pockets, seeking out another jewel - this one a ruby, engraved in gold runes and emitting a muted but certainly rather horrid aura. For the moment, the empath simply holds it tight in a fist as a safety measure and watches the graveyard, wide-eyed, sensitive ears turned in the direction of those moans and screams and clatter of bones.


Redhale and his men stood firm in their places; they had nothing to fear in their undeath and armed to the rotting teeth should they find they need to defend themselves or their land. Two soldiers halfway down the ranks proudly raise a Vailkrin banner while they wait expectantly.


Kuzial remains motionless as the fear weaves in the air; the drow is not as effected as some may be. Rage fuels him, fear has no place in his dark heart. At the screams he draws forth his Penzance Sabre, but he makes no move - it is instinct that forces the reaction. And only when Jolie speaks does his own voice ring out. "The spoils of war go the conquerer. I do not want this city. But there may be a price for killing the pixie." He snaps a short bow to the necromancer, before casting his gaze around the graveyard, looking entirely unhappy.


The creeping fear sinks into flesh and marrow, and invisible plague that wends its path through skin and bone, flesh and heart. Chests possessed of living muscle might find their inner beats quickening. Those without, pervaded by a numbing gloom. Unless, of course, they are prepared against such magics.


Jolie's gaze snapped to the drow. "What. Price."


Kirien honestly feels ill, hiding in the shadow of that tombstone with his back pressed against its cold surface. It's a problem having no barriers, forced to endure both his own fear and that of the others nearby that are experiencing similar unease. He's breathing shallow despite lacking the need to even draw air.


Kasyr grimaces, though the fault lies entirely within the means that Satoshi is using to cling to his skull. With a slow exhale of breath, the vampire offers a simple, "Given that I have the utmost faith that you'll work to keep this city safe et going as efficiently as Ginger had... You have my best wishes in retaining your position." The Kensai doesn't appear to be budging, however, his gaze merely redirecting towards Kuzial, posture hunching forward just a touch.


Kuzial shrugs as if it doesn't matter, the movement unconsciously languid. "Do you really wish to discuss it now?"


Kasyr does pause however, to shoot a quick sideways glance towards Jolie, as though trying to judge her expression.


Jolie said, "No." She stepped down from the slightly elevated ground she stood upon, tucking the book away. "I believe it best discussed... at another time." Her eyes, frigid and shattered of pupil, rested on Kasyr. Then swept the crowd, none voicing yet any dissent. "This funeral is at an end."


Hanan said "...duck this." Only she wasn't talking about ducks. "Hell's goin' on?" She's scared. That much is obvious. The hand that holds the flask shakes slightly, and she turns an accusatory glare at Jolie. "What'd you do?"


The morbid air grows steadily worse, even as the clatter of bone grows louder, and now the rustle of something leathern. A vast skull appears through the morass of shadow, a shade of colossal, reanimated, re-webbed wing. "Ah, Maghu..." Jolie grinned. The great black dragon had finished his task and loomed waiting his next directive.


Lahk tries to take a step and stumbles, dizzied by the maelstrom of fright. Reeling, he catches himself on a corner of a decrepit mausoleum and dips his claws into a simple hide pouch. Lifting forth a fist sized spire of rough quartz from a simple hide pouch and gazes upon it a moment. Licks of uncolor caress the stone, and it begins to flake to ash. His eyes drift closed and the order of the crystal passes to his mind, calming the stirred waters of his animal fears. Noticing the crumpling form of Kirien, he stalks to the man's side, holding forth his claws, still dripping flames of color-without-name.


Jolie wiggled her fingers toward Hanan.


Saiyah felt bad for the man, who had been cowering uncomfortably in the shadows of the tombstone. Slithering away from Kasyr's side, she'd slink past the crowd, and pause coiled up on her own tail. A gentle, but hesitant hand reached out, touching Kirien's shoulder. 'Hey..' her face read. If at all there was any comfort found in her touch, it was gone now. There was no way Maghu's appearance was going to ease the tension.


Jolie said, "I have revived the temple of the Death God. The true one," she spat. "Not the... petty underling that squatted here. Vakmatharas returns to Vailkrin, as is proper."


Firewing seems to appear from out of nowhere, spontaneously generating next to you. Redhale hadn't really met Maghu, not as himself at least, but didn't show any sort of surprise as the skeletal dragon made his appearance.


The vast necromantic saurian clacked its way toward the Dark Man, as near as it could get without squashing a number of undead. That horned skull dipped, minutely, in reverence. Jolie rubbed her hands together. "I need a whiskey. It's damnably chilly. Who's for a drink?"


Kasyr isn't quite certain what he's feeling currently, as not only is he currently afflicted with his own venomous rage, there is also a particularly acute fear that seems to be having difficulty finding purchase within him- at least, until it finds a lingering suspicion to feed upon. With Jolie and Kuzial’s interactions serving as fodder, the Kensai can merely sit there and peer between the two- with Maghu’s introduction serving to cue a particularly caustic set of whispers. "Going..to.."


Firewing smiles as he raises a hand at the drink offer "i would, very much. Perhaps wine?"


Jolie helpfully pointed west, "Pub's just up the road." She'd murder Firewing later, probably, for the grave thing.


Jolie knows that was the wrong direction.


Kuzial has had enough of this. It is beyond what he understands, and the sense of dread permeating the air is not something he wants any damn part of. By instinct alone he drops a globe of darkness between himself and the exit, before spinning on his heel and running towards the tavern; evading those in his way with graceful steps of silent feet. His men he left are ignored, their fate is their own to deal with. He doesn't care. He would make his way to Vailkrin proper, and there lay in wait to finish what was started in Sage Forest.


Firewing smiles as he bows, looking over at the grave that used to be and laughing "almost forgot..." he smiles as he holds out a hand, the sand slowly reforming back to the grave it once was. As he finishes he walks smiling to the pub.


Hanan takes one look at that giant dead dragon thingy and walks off. Not fleeing, so much as... fed up with whatever the hell's happening here. "Ruttin..." She takes a swig.


Jolie noted Kuzial’s exit with no shift in expression at all, and thus began the procession to the Hanging Corpse and Ginger's wake. Behind her, the undead sextons scraped a stone lid across the sarcophagus, its inscription pending, the cow-shape echoed in its monument.


Firewing apparently knows where the pub really is, as he is walking north instead of he direction he was given.


Kirien barely notices the arrival of Maghu, sufficiently distracted by the emotions crashing against his mind in unbearably constant waves. Slumping further against the grave, he focuses as best he can on the ruby clutched tight in his palm and pours as much of that near-tangible sensation of dread into the gemstone; and like some living thing it responds to the new flow of emotions, twisting slightly out of shape in his fist. It takes him a good few moments to realise that strangers have approached and the empath's head snaps up in surprise, his concentration on the ruby fading and its erratic, unnatural movements stilling. The contact from Saiyah, though her shape is new and vastly perplexing to Kirien, is quietly appreciated for even the little amount of comfort it offers. Lahk earns himself a rather more suspicious glance, Kirien's gaze drawn downward to stare blindly at the man's claws and the fluxing…fire? that clings to them. "I'm…fine." Mostly. Sort of.


Redhale turned about as he watched Kuzial disappear from the scene. Somewhat confused, though apparently not worried, he gave a nod to his men. Several long pikes were pulled from slings as some of the squad went to searching the graveyard, just in case.


Jolie wanders past Kasyr. "I've a nice Cenrilian brandy..."


Lahk nods at Kirien, though not without continued concern, and turns his path north, to the Corpse.


Maghu lurched his skull aside and snapped- in the darkness, something died.


Jolie said to Maghu, "Stop it. Time for drinks."


The dragon might've stared, if he had eyes. ~The dead do not drink~


Jolie snickered, and walked on. She crossed paths with Redhale, then, and paused. "You, Dark Man? Will you join us?"


Redhale apparently, like Maghu, had no desire for refreshments, and stalked off after his men, removing one glove and daubing his fingers in a greasy white paint...


Redhale said in passing, "There is work here to be done yet, Jolie..."


Jolie shrugged, and wandered along, patting her book where it throbbed and festered in its little pouch at her side. She looked back to Redhale. "Oh?"


Saiyah couldn't help but crack a soft smile, something she thought she could never do at a funeral. Holding her hand out, she'd nod and point with her chin in the direction of the local tavern, and those walking to it. It was a sort of, 'Come on, let's go..' expression. They lycan was given the same suspicious glance. She hadn't seen him come in. It unsettled her.


Redhale muttered softly as he wove his way between the tombstones, "I believe there are some hearts still beating amongst these monuments..."


Jolie said, "Ah." She waved a flippant gesture. "Give us a moment to clear the guests. The rest..." she grinned. "Are all yours, Redhale."


Jolie noted another scream, from Maghu's direction. "Well. Most of them."


Kasyr gives Jolie a particularly stern look, before he offers a curt reply of, "Your hospitality es noted. We'll talk, soon ...as I finish this." Without waiting for a response, the Kensai begins to move, one arm flinging back so he can slip it out of his trenchcoat and than pull it off of himself. It's only when the Revenant reaches Kirien that he tosses the coat off and towards the fox, "I'll need that later. See you both" A look passed to Saiyah" over some drinks." From there, the vampire simply gives top hat a quick flip- meant to propel both Satoshi and the green 'cylinder' that had been contained within...out. Obviously, Kasyr is counting upon Satoshi or Kirien to handle the foxkit, given he quite abruptly catches the cylinder, plants the hat upon his head, and starts hurrying in the direction Kuzial disappeared.


Saiyah couldn't help but crack a soft smile, something she thought she could never do at a funeral. Holding her hand out, she'd nod and point with her chin in the direction of the local tavern, and those walking to it. It was a sort of, 'Come on, let's go..' expression. They lycan was given the same suspicious glance. She hadn't seen him come in. It unsettled her.


Redhale muttered softly as he wove his way between the tombstones, "I believe there are some hearts still beating amongst these monuments..."


Satoshi finds herself abruptly in Kirien's lap after a short, unexpected flight departing her previous lurking place. The kindred spirit is giving something of a vulpine grin and an apologetic twitch of whiskers for using him as an impromptu landing pad.


Jolie said to Redhale, "We.. will speak later. I have a wake to prepare."


Outside the Hanging Corpse

Lahk strokes his chin, wondering if an al fresco affair here in the plaza before the Corpse may be more festive a wake for the departed.


Jolie was accompanied by the bone dragon, as she wandered back to the Corpse. The two appeared to be arguing, though only the necromancer's side was audible. The vast skeletal beast's maw dripped with blood. "No, you cannot. The end. ... I don't care how many... Ack, you complain like a fishwife.. ow. No need for that."


Lahk looks askanse at the necromancer, seemingly holding up a conversation on her own. The dull thuds of the bony feet of the dragon on the cobbles of the street give him pause as the massive beast approaches anew.


Jolie waved to Lahk. "I'm dying for a whiskey."


Kuzial remains motionless and silent in the perpetual shadows of Vailkrin's dark streets. He is waiting for something he knows is inevitable. He is not looking forward to it.


Hanan mutters something in some obscure language and takes another swig.


Jolie is too aware of what shadows line her streets Thus, she lingers here, where there is no whiskey. She notes that Hanan has a bottle, however. She'll sidle up and try to pilfer it.


Lahk nods at Jolie's request and whistles as only a wolf can, watching the misshapen servers of the Corpse bring forth liquor and victuals for the wake. They pause in the doorway, wondering if the patrons will proceed inside, or dine under the stars.


Saiyah doesn't so much as wince while the first shot sears its way down, but does however, gasp for breath as the chases is finished being pounded. Eyes opening wide, she'd sniffle hard, and shake her head. Off to a great night already.


Jolie doesn't mind the al fresco arrangement. Throngs of undead will fill the streets tonight, no doubt the tavern will spill over anyhow.


Kasyr , having shed his coat earlier, is no longer limited to merely racing along the street. Lacking obstruction to the formation of those leathery wings of his, the Revenant is currently pursuing Kuzial with every bit of haste he can muster, both eyes and empathic abilities seeking something which will betray the drow's position. Should he be, somehow, spotted- or more likely sensed, the Kensai will abruptly draw his wings in and promptly begin to dive down towards the Patrons position, one hand clutched tightly to keep his hat and its' returned contents in place- whilst his other clutches a simple mundane Katana he's seeking to carve through Kuzial's side.


Jolie caught a flash of motion from the corner of one green eye, and spun that way, gaze narrowing upon it.

Lahk holds the delicate glass of drow vintage carefully in his monstrous hands, raising it in toast, "To the absent head of Vailkrin..." He lifts the glass to his lips, and just as he is about to partake of the dark fluid, stops and looks questioningly at Jolie, "Someday you must tell me more of her." Pointing to the dragon with, then lowering, the goblet untouched, "And of this ivory behemoth here, that you have wrought." He blinks rapidly as Kasyr comes charging forth, scanning the square for what could be the cause.


Jolie murmured to Lahk, "I shall," but her attention, as his, was pulled elsewhere.


Hanan snaps back into reality long enough to snatch her flask back. "Damn it, creepy."


Saiyah was slithering with unpresidented speeds, but no where near the blur that Kasyr had become. In fact, he was never once in sight, instead the few gathered outside the tavern, and the undead that lurked about. Eying the rest, she'd look at them with question, wondering why they were outside, rather in.


Jolie had managed a little swig. She'd grope for one of those bottles over there, "Stingy.."


Kuzial had sensed the coming Kensai, though he makes no real outward motion of this as he runs along the streets, stopping only when he came to rest in the dark shadows. As Kasyr makes his brash attack, coming directly at him, Kuzial grins at the man's folly. This would be too easy. One hand draws forth his odious sword, the E`et-Nilah Blade. The other pulls from under his piwifwi a crossbow laced with dragon's blood. He is in Vailkrin, after all. He was prepared. As the Kensai gets close to make his strike, Kuzial steps forward, blocking the swung blade with his own sword; the strength enough to force his feet skidding across the street. But when taking the attack he had lifted his crossbow up and almost point-blank fires the sanguine bolt at such an angle were he not able to evade a large distance, he would either take it in his face, or at the least in one of his shoulders, where the vicious vitae of the dragon would begin to poison his vampiric veins.


A series of intermittent screams can be heard from the graveyard, though most are cut mercifully short.


Kirien has stubbornly made it up into the streets, leaving the graveyard behind, and still dutifully drags Kasyr's coat along with him. He'd almost be tempted to try it on if he wasn't just slightly afraid of the fact that its immense weight might break his shoulders in the process. So it's simply a large and weighty burden hanging at his side, handfuls of fabric and platemail grasped in order to tug the damnable thing up the road until the vampire's reached this spot where he finally takes a moment to rest. It is, really, only a half-second before his head's snapping up at the sound of a bolt being fired from close by. Kirien's cheeks puff out a bit.


The clash of steel upon steel rings out cold and clear from the streets of Vailkrin proper.


Saiyah had been confused from the start of this night, till the very moment the graveyard echoed with screams. There was that oh-so-familiar sound of a bolt releasing from a pulled trigger, and the violent clang of metal bouncing off each other. She was somewhat nearing the front of the building, when she was forced to stop, and take a moment to digest all of this. She looked about desperately to find the source of the sounds, but all that did was leave her spinning in circles.


The colossal bone dragon that sat hunched nearby the throng around the tavern's entrance merely watched - somehow, with its sockets empty of all but a dim, indigo glow - the proceedings so far with a pointed interest.


Derry walks out of the tavern, wondering why in the hell so many gathered, and where this bone dragon came from.


Kasyr barely registers the appearance of the crossbow , his actions now an odd combination of instinct and rage, and fueled by a singular paranoid fear that's been gorged by forces beyond the Kensai. Even as his blade impacts into the drows caliginous weapon, the vampires already preparing for the next portion of his assault- those wings which had already been drawn in simply curling in further so as to briefly provide the kensai a flesh buffer between himself and the bolt. With a hiss that seems a twin to the noise emanating from now sizzling wings, the vampire moves to force the blade forward again- seemingly heedless of the manner the drows weapon carves into the mundane steel. A secondary wound forming upon the Kensai is the only warning the drow will get, a hefty mass of flesh from his wings promptly evaporating into energy as he quickly darts forth with a speed akin to lightning made manifest- a brilliant streak of light following in the warriors wake as he ducks beneath E'et-nilah, heedless of the manner in which he effectively carves his own blade in half in his gambit to get behind Kuzial. From there, the vampire merely focuses, that already disportionately large patch of missing flesh upon his wing growing large still as he brings the broken blade up, in an attempt to discharge slam the Katana into the Drows back- to discharge the excessive amount of kinetic energy that's been stored inside it and send him skyward.


Kirien , dropping that frustratingly heavy trench coat, promptly sits down on it, his eye on the fighting pair.


Saiyah slowly crept up along side Jolie. A visage of disdain and discomfort settling in. She nudged the woman with her elbow, chin pointed out at the two.


Jolie nodded to the naga, as if to offer some sort of assurance - of what was not spoken. The bottle of cognac was passed Saiyah's way, roughly anyway, the necromancer's eyes still filled with after images from that flash of light.


A throng of rotting citizens appears from the west, singing guttural and unholy chants. Upon seeing the fighting pair they gather in a circle around the combat, cheering Kasyr on with their ferocious screams.


Jolie snarled at the throng, "Silence!" Such a racket.. it could only distract the fighters.


Kuzial drops his crossbow with casual disregard as the Kensai's wings flash forward and provide a fleshy shield against the poisoned bolt. He is in the process of drawing the Penzance Sabre when Kasyr moves with lightning speed, the blinding light enough to cause a vicious snarl to be born into Vailkrin's ever-dark streets. The dark elf steps forward, before spinning on his heel, his blades crossed to offer a parry against the powerful Kensai's attack. But he is too slow, only half deflecting the remnants of the sword as the horrendous kinetic force buffers into his chest, crushing finely made chainmail into his ebon skin and sending him hurling backwards. He enacts his levitation as he flies, but it doesn't stop him smashing his spine into one of Vailkrin's shops, cracking the wood and driving the air from his lungs. He remains there a moment, his innate powers stopping him from dropping to the ground, before with a snarl he gives birth to another globe of darkness that drops into life between Kensai and dark elf. With that done, the drow slides to the ground, before stepping forwards into the inpenetrable blackness. The Penzance Sabre is lifted and casually tossed forward like it were slashed at Kasyr, before the drow steps quickly to his left. He spins a tight circle, letting his momentum build, before dropping low and slashing the E`et-Nilah Blade upwards in a vicious strike at Kasyr's torso. Lost in the darkness are the tendrils of ebon blackness that snake around the sentient sword; it is hungry to cleave the flesh and soul of the Kensai who so brazenly challenged the drow warrior...


Saiyah slowly creeped up along side Jolie. A visage of disdain and discomfort settling in. She nudged the woman with her elbow, chin pointed out at the two.


Jolie nodded to the naga, as if to offer some sort of assurance - of what was not spoken. The bottle of cognac was passed Saiyah's way, roughly anyway, the necromancer's eyes still filled with after images from that flash of light.


Kirien can be heard murmuring to himself as he observes the fight through his own warped sense of sight - something about needing honey, it seems.


Satoshi , after a delayed visit to the fountain for a snack to aid healing burns, pads onto the scene once more in that petite, pale-furred shape of a fox kit. A moment is spared to sort out what she can of the fight taking place before Kirien is located and his lap is absconded as her personal seat so that she can join him in playing the audience.


Jolie reached for the bottle once Saiyah had taken a draught.


Saiyah blindly handed the bottle over, not even bothering to look.


Kirien pauses in his possibly entirely nonsensical mutterings to slide a thoughtful glance Satoshi's way when his sibling makes herself present on the scene in small, furred form which quite quickly claims his lap as a seat without so much as asking. It's a good thing she's adorable, although he does brush lightly over her whispers and tweak an ear before settling his fingers in her fur.


Satoshi doesn't need an invitation, so long as she owns one of Kirien's eye. It's some sort of unwritten law.


Kasyr spares not a moment to revel in his victory, nor in the support of the crowd for their once upon regent. Standing tall, he merely awaits Kuzials recuperation, the ensuing globe of darkness merely precipitating the Vampire into plucking those goggles which rested beneath his hat over his eyes. He was, after all, never going to be without proper headwear- especially not when it was Duergar crafted goggles which allowed him to see clearly in all but the most tenebrous of shadows. And thus, despite the supernatural nature of Kuzials preperation- the vampire is not entirely blind, still able to discern the threadbare form of the dark elf in tandem with what his empathy reveals. Ready as such, the vampires able to reply to the 'threat' of the tossed sword with all due grace, the edge of the broken katana snaked beneath the airborne sabre before its' snapped upwards to propel the improvised missile straight up. Alas, with one arm at his hat, and the other outstretched, the vampire is left no option but to go on the evasive, the Kensais feet abruptly sliding back and to the right- so as to draw him out of the brunt of Kuzials strike. For a brief moment, the cursed blade slips into the Revenants flesh- its pervasive darkness hungrily tearing at the vampires flesh and detect a soul to desecrate.. and then the moment is passed. Brusquely stepping into the wake of the weaponmasters swing, Kasyr drops his broken Katana and snatches the Penzance saber out of the air- neatly bringing it in a downwards strike meant to shear whatever it can of Kuzials body, before it's drawn up before the Kensai to eagerly ensnare the inevitable retaliation.


Kuzial feels a deep sense of sadistic joy as his blade slides through the kensai's flesh. His pernicious weapon lets out an audible moan as it tastes the deceased flesh of the vampire, its malevolent joy obvious to those who watch the conflict. As Kasyr slashes his stolen sword down, Kuzial can only offer a partial block; the Patron of House Stavret is still in balance, but with his blade over-extended he can only snap it back so far. Cornelius's sabre tears into the chainmail of his shoulder, its ever-keen edge parting the rings easily, before tasting the ebon-flesh beneath. The pain numbs his arm, causing his blade to drop even lower as he quick steps back a pace, before the dark elf uses his free hand to draw an elaborately crafted dagger from his belt. With rage coming in palatable waves from the former weaponmaster, he once steps forward at the Kensai; his sword moving slower than usual as his wounded shoulder leaks sanguine liquid down his front, but his dagger weaves its own web as viciously as ever. He flows through a quick high, mid, low thrusting routine with the sword, each strike accompanied with half-steps forward and dizzying stabs with his dagger twisting in at the kensai's chest, its keen edge seeking his heart...


From the direction of the arena two brilliant flashes can be seen, first violet then white. They temporarily light the clouds drifting across the sky and paint new shadows over the city."


Jolie tore her gaze from the fight and glanced up. Her lips curved to a tiny smile.


Saiyah quickly tugs Jolie's arm, and points in the direction of the newly created commotion.


Jolie whispered to Saiyah, "The Dark Man is at his work."


Saiyah leaned in to whisper back, but paused. Breaking into a fit of silent laughter, she buries her face in Jolie's shoulder. She forgot she was mute at times.


Jolie patted Saiyah on the dreadlocks, and returned her attention to the battle.


Derry quickly shifted from the entrance of the tavern to Kirien and Satoshi, standing behind the first of the two.


Redhale and his crew marched slowly past the scene outside the tavern. At the rear of the column a number of new additions could be seen, easily noticed as they didn't yet wear the duergar armor the rest of the squad did. Despite this, their skin was already a splotchy dark grey, and their faces, some perhaps recognized by a few present, had been painted to match their new brothers.

. Jolie offered the Dark Man a little wave, which may go unnoticed amid the chaos and .. thronging.


Kirien does not see those flashes of light from across the city but it's almost as if he feels them somehow, head raising to stare briefly in that direction. He might've leaned over backwards to offer Derry a faint, upside-down grin but the empath's soon drawn to the chaos in front of him once again, picking up on unpleasant sensations and-- that blood. "Ah. He's dancing," he murmurs, mostly to himself.


Satoshi gives Kirien a look then that might be translated as, 'My husband is a better dancer than him.'


Kirien said to Satoshi, "You're biased in that opinion, chickadee."


Kirien felt that look.


Kasyr is caught within that deadly dance of swordplay for a few moments, his absconded saber darting out to intercept Kuzials blade with finesse. Unforunately, busy as his hand is with his hat, the Kensai is forced into an impromptu dance with the drow, twisting and turning to evade the dextrous daggerwork. Akin to a ravenous beast, the knife artfully punctures flesh long dead- drawing forth tainted blood to the surface until~ Akin to the prior steps in their dance the vampire briefly darts in to clash with Kuzials weapon, in tandem with the sudden movement of his formerly hat-holding-hand. Where normally the drows weapon might strike unimpeded, its' instead met by the Kensais gloved hand- forcefully slammed forth with enough strength to drive dagger point through the mithril mesh that rested upon the swordsman hands, effectively robbing the drow weaponmaster of its' useage. Moreover, that very same movement is used to attempt to shove forward so as to send Kuzial off balance, one of the hybrids legs slipping forward so that he might stomp upon the drows foot and further limit his mobility. The coup de grace, of course, comes in the form of their artful collision of blades- Kasyr fully intending upon using that co-ordinated collision of steel upon steel to lock the E`et-Nilah Blade in place- if only so he can surge a fair serving of electrical energy through the touching blades. Curiously, the rapid ioniozating of flesh upon the hybrids wings doesn't seem to stop with that action, either.


Saiyah just nudges impatiently at Jolie for the bottle. If there was any left.. she had it for quite some time now.


Jolie sneaked another sip before passing the dregs back to Saiyah.


Kuzial has his dagger incarcerated by the Kensai's forceful hand driving forward. The drow stubbornly refuses to let go of the weapon, so when he is forcefully driven backwards he uses the Kensai's own weight to counter balance himself. The foot stomp is contemtuously evaded by him shifting his leg back; it would take more than that to trick the patron drow. But unluckily for him the vampire revenant has such tricks. E'et-Nilah meets the Penzance Sabre, and through the sentient weapon a shocking surprise snakes down into Kuzial's body. The surging electricity causes his white hair to surge into life around him as his teeth clench so tightly blood pours from his mouth. It takes all his strength to disengage himself from the assault; he leaves his dagger behind to do so and on staggering feet moves backwards. Smoke pours from his armour as he clears the confines of the darkness globe, and spies in their undead ranks his former warriors. This, accompanied with the kensai's brutal attack and the loss of two of his weapons, causes Kuzial to scream in demonic rage; all pretenses of sanity having fled the psychotic drow. He drives his consciousness into the twisted soulstone that adorns his neck. Within it resides his father's ever-tortured soul. But his undending agony is ignored as instead Kuzial draws from the stolen druidic strength of Rikailin. He pulls from the ruby stone the captured power until his skin seems to crawl with twisted bugs, before he opens his mouth and vomits up a disgusting amount of hairy black spiders; summoned into life within his own body by the corrupted magic. They crawl onto the ground and quickly make their way towards Kasyr; their venom is varied; from acidic like poison, to a dark mixture of flesh eating bacteria that would devour even the undead body of the revenant, to a few with thick red lines down their back, their venom having identical properties to dragon's blood. In their wake, Kuzial leaps forward, enacting his levitation as to not crush them, before once again erupting into a floating series of vicious sword strikes, aimed to distract the kensai from the oncoming creatures at his feet.


Sophie give her friend Lahk a friendly smile but keeps well away from the crazy ball of teeth fur and claws that is Rawren.


Kirien 's ears twitch at that scream. He almost, almost whines then, sensitive ears soon pinning back when the drow's soulstone is drawn out to whisper and thread its tortured pleas about the eternal night air. And then there are legs, and hundreds of them, and by this point he's fighting the urge to climb somewhere a little higher off the ground in an attempt to escape. Kirien knows those spiders, after all.


Jolie bent to pick one of the critters up - by its globular back end, where the bitey parts are not, as they seethed about her, somehow keeping berth of a circular space around her heels. She inspected the spider closely. Not too closely.


Satoshi , for the sake of some sort of IC consistency, acts on Kirien's whim and bolts to find higher ground. Probably on a roof, like a proper former-Vailkrinian.


Saiyah lifts the tip of her tail, and holds it like a hammer.


Lahk holds out a mottled green glass bottle, now empty of amber liquor, its neck uncorked, to Jolie, so that she might slip the arachnid within, for further study at a later time.


Kirien is, for some reason, left entirely alone by the spiders. He's clearly quite relieved about that.


Jolie accepted the bottle with grace, looking a tad disappointed that it was indeed empty, before realising what the offer what was for. She popped the spider in, stuffing its bulbous rear past the neck with a prod of her forefinger.


Saiyah jabs at Jolie's rib, pointing to the spider. Great.. she pissed a Momma one off.


Jolie ooches, glares at Saiyah, glances at the spider and grins.


Sophie has come to pay her respects to Ginger. Her fellow master merchant. Sophie a forest born elf has no fear of spiders, but something or someone present clearly terrifies her.


Jolie whispered to Saiyah, "It's one of my own..."


Saiyah just returns the glare. She had nothing to say to the woman. Well, of course she had... oh forget it. She crosses her arms and sits grumpily.


Jolie might've snickered and caused Saiyah a deal more crossness, were there not such an interesting fight ensuing. She handed the bottle to one of the lingering undead, whispering an order for it to take the vessel inside.


Kasyr doesn't waste those moments gained by Kuzial being forced to step away, the Penzance saber stabbed down into the ground so that he might wrench free the dagger entrenched within dead flesh. From there, that bleeding hand makes its way back up to the hat upon his head- carefully adjusting it so it stands proudly, even as Kuzial taps into his vile source of power. Quirking an eye at the corrupt mysticism occuring before him, the vampires quick enough to draw his weapon clear of Vailkrins cobblestones and level it at the drow once more- though the onslaught of vile, vermin does give the vampire pause. Alas, whilst the Kensai reserves some degree of morbid curiousity from what the minute monstrosities might maim, he hasn't the time to entertain it. Its' that particular thought that cues a rather particular invocation of the vampires abilities- the full extent of Ekaitzs 'stolen' electromancy tapped into, resulting in a violent explosion of gore and electricity rupturing out from Kasyrs back as his wings are utterly consumed in the localized ionic storm. Even the flesh that remains upon the Revenants back is not untouched rapidibly devouring the flesh around where the wings had emerged as a visible aura of sparks pierces the core of Kuzials magical darkness. Those insects, so single-minded in their devotion to devour, are reduced to spatters of foul smelling substances and ash- though Kuzial is hardly as fortuitous. The dark elf, eager as he is to rush in and cleave apart his enemy, is now left to contend with Kasyr leaping directly at him- the energy that has built up within the Kensai until the point of overflowing now consumed in one fell action. The Penzance saber is nigh imperceptible for a few brief moments, a glimmering blur that seeks to sheer through metal, muscle, flesh and bone with a zeal that might match Kuzials odious weapon- something which will no doubt be literally hammered into the blade as Kasyr violently counters the blow during his brutal blitzkrieg. Its' only when he's finished that the exact path of his strikes will be laid bare, sparking arcs lain in their wake which are quick to fade away.


Jolie threw an arm across her eyes to banish the glare of the light, wincing up over it as the main flare passed.


Ordox sits cross-legged, balls up his fists and hunches over to rest his head upon them. Watching eagerly!


Sophie jumps wincing with sympathy for her friend Kasyr, and even sympathy for the spiders as her druid senses feel their little lives destroyed.


A couple of local undead, standing too close, are briefly lit up like yuletide decorations - was there bone showing through electrified flesh, in that instant? In any case, thier eye sockets imploded, leaving smoking holes.


Jolie frowned.


Kirien thinks this moment is one of those moments in which he's lucky to be blind. That explosion of pent-up magic has him scrunching his nose up a bit though, even if the light itself does not really affect him. The force of it is enough to blast his hair back out of his face, prompting further nose wrinkling.


Saiyah stood there.. her jaw hanging. Attention held loosely by those smoking sockets.


Kuzial attacks the Kensai like a ravining beast, his odious weapon ready to tear apart deceased flesh as his summoned spiders seek to poison the revenant's body. But when Kasyr's wings brightly erupt and he surges forward, the drow lets out a noise that is as close to worry as any he has ever uttered in his long, wicked life. The Penzance Sabre is a mere blur, the few blocks he makes more luck than skill. At the collisions of E`et-Nilah and Cornelius's weapon, violent shocks are sent through a body quickly being torn apart by the Kensai's attack; his finely crafted chainmail no match for the lightning quick strikes. His body erupts in sanguine, wounds carved faster than the eye can see, his face mutilated beneath the tip of the sabre, and the only thing that keeps him from death is the murderous, unending rage that fuels his powerful form. One of his arms is all but shorn off at the elbow, and as it falls limply at his side the drow staggers back, glaring at the demonic Kensai with eyes that burn with horror and rage. He spits out globules of dark blood onto the street, before harshly speaking, "This... is.. not.. over..." The words are not entirely his own as Grieve materializes into existence between Kensai and Kuzial. The floating tome, an Ouroborous weapon bound to him after Ginger died, begins to flap opens its pages as it screams a silent command to Kuzial. The drow, so close to death, cannot even begin to deny its call, and once again he hurls his consciousness into the soulstone. He draws from the ruby amulet Rikailin's power. More and more of fills his desecrated body, yet it doesn't produce the same horrific feeling as earlier. For the floating tome drinks from the energy until all is consumed. Only then do its pages settle and twisted archaic words form on the pages. Kuzial speaks them in a harsh voice that is layered with a bit of final triumph, before both him, his blade and the tome vanish from the streets, leaving a horrendous amount of blood in their wake. Where he teleports to isn't known, for the book itself decided the location, but wherever he lands he is close to death, without any of his stolen druidic power, and missing his stolen sabre... he will be back...


Kirien says, "...Damn."


A throng of rotting citizens shambles off to the north, celebrating a final death.


Lahk thinks you have to admire someone fueled by unending rage.


Tysinni thinks the throng of rotting citizens was not impressed.


Jolie's own tome shuddered in its enchanted home at her side, crackling with some dark and toothsome magic she could barely prevent it from leaking. The vanishing point of the drow is stared at, and she grabs a bottle, heading for home.

Kirien does shift from his sitting position so as to head out into the road a bit, kneeling to swipe a hand through one of those fresh patches of blood. He stares at it curiously for a moment or two, before lifting his head skywards, looking a mite pensive.

A throng of rotting citizens appears from the north, singing guttural and unholy chants.

Sophie thinks the throng of rotting citizens need singing lessons.

Kasyr lands, one hand immediately shooting up to his hat to push it back onto its head- the fabric smoking hot. Sparing a few moments to extinguish the sparse few flames that have popped up on the poor abused piece of finery, the Kensai finally removes the damnable thing- stuffing it into his backpack alongside the odd green cylinder that had been balanced inside. That aside, he simply plucks his goggles back onto his forehead, plucks a rag from his pack to wipe the blood of his newly acquired sword, and begins to make his way over towards the crowd, "....I forgot to punch him in the face, mon dieu."

Kasyr is obviously not surprised at the dissapearing act...probably because he provoked one just a few nights prior.

Lahk flicks a remaining bit of spider leg from his coat and passes his palm over his eyes to clear them of the afterimages of magic. He breathes deeply of the cool night air and passes into shadow.

A throng of rotting citizens shambles off to the east, celebrating a final death.

Saiyah just buries her face in her palm, and smiles at Kasyr.

Kirien , glancing up at Kasyr, says, "That you did. I think you made up for it though," and motions with a flourish to the blood marring the street. Huffing a sigh, the vampire rises to his feet, stretches out a bit, and once more gazes sightlessly down at his palm, now stained with red. He still looks thoughtful. "…Your coat, by the way." Lifting his jaw to the revenant, he then jerks his head back a bit, motioning to the heavy garment still lying near the entrance to the Corpse.

Kasyr offers a mild grin to Saiyah, and a partial bow to Kirien- though the act produces a few winces from the hybrid, his still bleeding back protesting the action. From there, he merely straightens up, places the saber at his belt (and curls his tail around it for good measure), and makes his way over towards his coat. A few more winces later, and the vampires as fashionable as ever.

Saiyah points at Kas while slithering away. It was a 'you-me-drinking' motion as she disappeared behind the tavern door.

Kirien 's gaze falls to his amulet, briefly. A second later and he's returning Kasyr's bow partially out of habit and partially as a farewell, stating with a bit of a grin, "All this bloodshed's made me hungry, so I'ma go find food. Should probably get yourself some, non?" before he's turning to move off down the road at a bit of a light jog, the hand not covered in blood raising to curl fingers round that curious gem.

Kasyr gives a glance to Saiyahs departing figure, a casual, "Consider it a date..ou..er, quoi-ce-soit." A roll of his eyes, a tug of his ears, and than he's simply paying attention to Kirien- only now realizing that Jolies since departed, "I intend to, Monsieur. Fare well, d'accord? Et do be safe- Given I keep antagonising people."

Kirien said to Kasyr, "I'm always safe."

Kirien is probably lying. But either way, he's gone.

Kasyr said to Kirien, "Except when you're not."