RP:Jerks and Spectrals
Part of the Vakmatharas' Jar Arc
Summary: Brennia is getting closer to the truth.
The Hanging Corpse
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.
Brennia scrambles into the tavern which is slightly crowded due to the magic protection spell within the walls. Quickly closing the door and turning around to find more beings in the establishment than she's used to, but she doesn't go unnoticed. A few of the patrons gossip already about how she used to live in the tavern and sing her songs every night, how she used to dress was very different. Donning a blue form fitting turtleneck and velvet black leggings which are tucked into knee high flat boots, but her natural six two height causes her to stand out a bit. Her hair was pulled up into a high ponytail accenting her long pointed ears and those striking liberty blue eyes spot the public board. She slips best she could through the crowd while folding those large onyx wings close to her curvaceous frame. Once she reached the board she reads the cautionary notices, but plump lips scowl slightly as none of them say when these attacks started. Brennia is a woman made of stronger stuff and could usually take the sight of so many undead roaming the streets, but this past month has been a little tough. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves before reaching the bar counter eventually to get the busy Steadman's attention and after a moment she catches his eye with that warm smile of her’s. He gives her a surprised look, but gets a bottle of blackfire wine down for her anyway in order to hand to her. Sultry alto timbre swims on the air in such a melodic trance when she politely asks, “thank you Steadman, but may I also get a goblet?” More surprise as it seems her drinking straight from the bottle days are behind her and obliges. After pouring a glass and taking a look around to see who she may chat with about the walking corpses outside.
Bradyn | Brennia had ample time to make her way into the Hanging Corpse and settle herself before Bradyn's arrival would come. The Maharan male was not full of charm and social graces, so he was not coming here to meet new faces or indulge in a drink. Vailkrin was currently plagued with three major problems. There was first the Corruption, currently held at bay by Larewen's efforts -- but for how long is an alarming question to the residents of Vailkrin. Following that came the troubles wrought upon the lands by the breaking of Vakmatharas' jar. Undead are certainly plaguing the city, raising enough hell that guards have been stationed at various points throughout the city in order to help ensure the safety of Vailkrin's residents. No one has any idea of what exactly is causing this trouble within the city. It is a mystery, one that makes pinpointing the cause of the third dilemma near impossible, for it is probably being attributed to the second predicament caused by the breaking of the jar. Unless someone was in the know, and only a few select individuals have the knowledge of a ritual gone awry in the forests of Vailkrin, causing the undead to roam the city freely not just during the nighttime hours but under the soft glow that symbolizes 'daytime' in the city of perpetual darkness. Because the two problems are not connected, but having similar ramifications for Vailkrin, undead activity is significantly increased at night, making night the more dangerous time to travel. So why was Bradyn choosing to travel at this hour? Because the necromancer was not going to let some undead beasts keep him locked up within House Mahara at all hours. In most cases the vampire's ego would not be misplaced, but every spell takes time to cast. He of course had done a check of the area before stepping out of the supply store to the north of here, but not even five steps out of the shop and he was being rushed by a gaggle of hungry zombie-like creatures. They have managed to get the drop on him for the moment and so Bradyn opts to duck into the Hanging Corpse rather than risk casting off a spell in a too-little too-late effort. His arrival is announced by a hard slam of the door.
Brennia jumped slightly at the slam and cursed herself under her breath because she's usually way more put together. There was a small band of Bards here from the Guild who were waving at Brennia and trying to summon her over, but it was a rather tall avian male with grey wings who made his way over to try and convince her to join them. Concern furrows her brow while pointing out vampire hickies on his neck and how pale he looks because she knows he doesn't have a vampire girlfriend. Rarely, those who are unable to contract vampirism get addicted to the thrill and pleasure that comes from a vampire feeding off you, but this was something Brennia knew all too much about. This seems to agitate the fellow avian bard and he seems to take on an accusatory stance to match his tone while pointing fingers at her currently covers up neck/shoulder area. Her expression neutralizes despite her hurt feelings just before she turns to pick her wine bottle up and walking away from the male with hopes to occupy a lone corner table, but the tears rimming her eyelids were clouding her vision when she walked fully into Bradyn. Oops. Quickly blinking away her tears and distracting her mind with the stranger's face while a warm smile is offered in her apology, “do excuse me. I'm so sorry.” At such a close proximity the newcomer would pick up on his favorite scent emitting from the avian and her sultry alto timbre sounding sincere with maybe a hint that she was on the brink of some breakdown. Only the likes of Sherlock Holmes could deduce that though because she was a marvelous faker.
Bradyn | Unfortunately for Brennia, Bradyn was not the sort of man to care about the teary eyes. He was not a sentimental creature and so these tears go ignored, for he is frankly not sure how he is supposed to respond to them. An emotional breakdown? Also a detail that is going to be lost upon the Maharan male. His favorite scent? It is probably best not to go into detail about that for it is rather macabre. Her apology is barely uttered to the man, and Bradyn does not even have the chance to respond, before the two of them are going to be greeted with yet another visitor. Despite any protection spells that might be in place on the Hanging Corpse Tavern, it will not be a safe space from the turmoil caused by the jar. A spirit walks straight through the door and straight through Bradyn. All of the details of the spectre cannot be perfectly made out. It is hard to tell the color of the garb, for example, but by all accounts the apparition that has walked through the door probably was tall in life, well groomed, fairly handsome look, definitely male, well built, the list can go on. The cliche dreamy vampire, without a doubt. This ghostly remnant moves through the Hanging Corpse to the bar, where he assumes a lean and begins to have a conversation with.....? Whomever he is conversing with, that being is not manifesting, and his words cannot be clearly heard. It's an eerie whisper that echoes through the tavern, far from audible. It's not until some time after this occurrence that Bradyn actually addresses Brennia, "It's no matter..." And then he leaves her side to move closer to the spectre in observation.
Brennia meandered behind the man while also looking at the spectre and studying it’s looped movements. A glance around the crowded Tavern until she's back at leering along with the newcomer, “what is this?” She gasps out in a near whisper before clearing her throat gently, “first the dead outside and now this…” her gaze falls to the man next to her. The tavern is so packed her velvety onyx wing is nearly caressing the gentleman's arm, but she makes effort to fold them tighter to herself. The band picks back up playing something full of angst all the while the singer, Hinder, can't keep his eyes off the Headmistress. The song goes ignored for now, “do you know what's happening here?” Eventually she's looking back at the ghost, “this town used to be so quiet…”
Bradyn | The song goes entirely ignored, If Bradyn even enjoys simple things like listening to music is questionable. The Maharan male is wound up so tightly that it is doubtful. The vampiric male is stepping away from Brennia before her wings even come close to touching him, but if she still chooses to fold them more closely against her person...well that is of no concern to Bradyn, he was the apathetic sort. The necromancer is closing the gap between himself and the spectre with the only delay to this advance being Brennia's question. "No, I do not know. And Vailkrin perhaps..." Bradyn was going to voice his disagreement on how quiet Vailkrin has been, perhaps it has had it's lulls of silence but it's history is ultimately a violent one. The apparitions that have been running rampant would demonstrate this for Brennia first hand. Thus far we have only seen one spectre manifest but four more come barreling through the door and plowing their way through the crowd. Literally, walking right through them, there was no need for people to move out of the way. Several still did, people often fear what they do not understand. Bradyn was not one of those people and one of those four ghosts and up stepping straight through him on their path to the bar. Two of the four ghosts snatch up the original spectre by his arms, one on each side and they begin to violently pull him away from the bar and toward the exit. It begins, the song that the band is playing is soon competing with the ethereal cries of protest by the ghost being forcibly hauled out of the Hanging Corpse by the four other spirits. Whatever loop these ghosts were reliving, it was not going to end well and the struggle has really only just begun.
Brennia remembers about a couple years ago of when she used to live here. There would only be a few small groups of regulars and an idle glance to the baby grand piano shoved in the corner… How just for a moment she would be able to make vampires feel again and transport their minds to a whole other place, but that was a different time and a different Brennia. Something within this memory gives the avian an internal strength and that sultry alto timbre reaches out to the stranger once more, “when did you first notice these spectrals?” Those elongated pointed ears pick up on something in the distance within the lands and it feels so familiar, but she cannot place from where and the haunting tune begs her to follow. “Do you hear that?” She asks before the gentleman can even answer the first question, but more than likely he cannot, “it's beautiful…” She trails off while her hand loosens on her wine bottle in her hand causing it to shatter open on the floor. The undead lurk outside, but she neeeeds to find where that singing is coming from and without any further notice she was in a trance-like state while looking at the entrance. She uses a bardic spell of cowardice and parts the sea of beings between her and that door before her saunter brought her to the door and out into the scene of spectral battles and the walking dead. Dangerous, maybe she needs a necromancer pal to keep them at bay.
Bradyn | Quite frankly, no one should ever be quick to count Bradyn is a 'pal'. The man is indifferent and apathetic to most things, which is not a ruse of any sort. The man is cold and callous with the top concerns in his life being himself, his studies and his house. The music/singing that has pulled Brennia into a trance like state is not heard by Bradyn and the fact that she is leaving the Hanging Corpse Tavern is of little concern to him, for he is no gentleman. The motive for Bradyn even advancing toward the door is not to offer assistance to Brennia, nor to answer her questions. She is not going to get an answer. One because Bradyn was a jerk and two because he quite frankly was not even sure when this trouble began. Weeks? Eh. The justification for his uncertainty in this matter will remain a mystery. His reasoning for moving toward the door is far more sinister -- the bard would serve as the perfect means to see how many of those undead beings were still in the immediate vicinity. Never mind the spectres, those were just a headache inducing annoyance. If Brennia does not end up swarmed by undead beings, that would be a good indicator that Bradyn could leave the tavern and return to the comforts of his own mansion, where there is a distinct lack of a crowd and far more silence to be had. At least there was not a bad trying to play in addition to the cacophony created by the spectres.
Twisted Trees
Here the trees are twisted and petrified in agony. Like a haunting horrific nightmare they almost seem to twist and move like serpents. At close examination you can see sick disfigured carved faces pressed into the surface of the trees, blood trickling down the eyes and mouth. As you glance down, you notice that spider webs also inhabit this area. The only way is back to your west. Are you moving in circles somehow?
Brennia didn’t care for the strangers lack of manners and he wouldn't have been the first jerk she'd met, but this never brought her out of her friendly nature…. Something ominous hung in the air and she felt the familiar pull as if she could literally see the notes on the air guiding her way. Once outside, if she were followed, Bradyn may faintly hear it as well - a haunting voice singing a sorrowful tune. Now, bards typically don't have power over the undead and Brennia was not about to try it, but she used those large onyx wings as a buffer zone and any undead that breached it got one of her obsidian Sai daggers between the eyes. It wasn't really badass and she shrugged them off with a casual ease… This was a woman on a mission. She was coming through towards the dark forest and speaking to nobody, “it's just up ahead.” Reaching a clearing in the darkness to come upon the end of a scene of three spectrals of necromancers whose names are probably long and forgotten, but there was adead woman at their feet. The zombies seem to avoid this area as the scene has already come to an end. Unfortunate, but Brennia will have to try another night. She soars up into the air and back to the Tavern.
Bradyn still has not fully exited the Hanging Corpse Tavern even when Brennia's direction takes her east down to the streets of Vailkrin and toward the forests of the darkened city. Maybe the song was heard, maybe it was not, with all the noise that is being produced by this spectral loop...it is more likely that Bradyn is not putting too much thought into the song. It was just another of the many spirits stuck in a loop. Brennia would be abandoned and left to fend for herself and make her own discoveries out in the twisted forests of Vailkrin. Bradyn has gone the opposite direction and was nowhere within eyesight or earshot. He has returned to his manor, she was left to chase her own ghosts.