Silence: Let Them Eat Cake
This event continues the storyline that began with Holy of Holies. The number of maximum players remains 5, and I'll be checking up on those on the waiting list first, and will then post in the @bb events board when all slots are filled. However, feel free to mail/page me if you'd like to be added on the waiting list, as I'm keeping that list for all following events. I'm aiming for everyone interested to have a chance to participate at least once!
Be aware that while this event is not necessarily geared towards the combat gods among us, your character will most likely end up in a very dangerous situation.
April 8, 2017, 7:30 p.m.
Arx - Ward of the Crown - Queensrest Inn - Main Room
Comments and Log
"Oh, yes, hello to the Queensrest Inn, yes it's free, please don't forget to wipe your boots bef--" A sigh. "Welcome to the Queensrest Inn. No, I don't remember who you are, we just throw out so many peop-- That is to say, welcome. Free food, free drinks. Yes, I've found Gild again." This is the first sight those entering the Queensrest Inn are confronted by, and possibly the most jarring. The arrogant owner, greeting everyone that walks in without exception, no matter how low (to him) their status. Inside, the fine furnitures have been exchanged for long tables upon which are piled with food of all sorts, from the most extravagant to the most common, along with a surprising number of fine cakes. Apparently they weren't a lie after all. Another table holds drinks, and how! Ale, whiskey, wine, beer, mead, the list goes on. Other than these two large, buffet tables, numerous others have been prepared in expectation of the higher draw of the no-longer limited clientele. There's still place to sit, but to those used to the Queensrest Inn, it may feel somewhat crowded. Indeed, quite a few guests are already present, those who have been at the Queensrest Inn before, and others who'd never have been allowed in the first place. "Yes, yes, go take your tables. There's plenty to choose from. Sure, take the one closest to the food, you..." Again an extended sigh. "Welcome, welcome... Came back from the Wake did you? Yes, Gods be praised... Just take your seat."
Freja enters, mud free boots tyvm, and still dressed in her scouting leathers - it is a siege after all. What sets her apart as Northern is the runes trailing the line of her spine in her armor, echoed on the curve of each axe on her hips. "Whiskey." she says succinctly to the barkeep.
Silas arrives with Aiden in tow, eager to get the young Grayson out of his room and enjoying life again in the wake of the gorefest at the Hall of Heroes. It may be a little too soon, but the dinner was happening now and not later, so the invite was sent and presumably accepted. He is clad in his suit of darkened steel and carmine leather, a blade strapped at both sides of his waist in brazen display, and he walks a stride ahead of the Grayson prince -- protectively. He frowns slightly at the owner's off-putting demeanor, but nods politely when the greeting comes his way and searches for a nearby table appropriate for two.
Orazio heard rumors of the Queensrest's generosity on this night - although, being a frequent visitor of the establishment, it was difficult for him to BELIEVE it. He steps inside, eyebrows going up as he looks around. The servant is given a warm smile. "It's good to see you. And to see you all embracing the doctrine of Gild with your heart as much as your mouths," he adds, with approval. As his usual table has been cleared to make way for the banquet, the Legate moves to find a seat near the fire at one of the long tables. Smiles and nods are given to those he knows, most warmly to Silas.
Aiden Grayson is walking perceptively close to the Lord Commander, almost on top of him at points, with a fearful scan of his surroundings. His guard retinue had been increased after the last incident in the Hall of Heroes, whom stay rather close themselves to the jumpy prince Grayson. Like the others, he has been fitted into his leathers and carries a bow across his back with a slender side quiver on his hip, filled with half a dozen shots. The Inn owner has him side stepping behind Silas again, no smile but a quick head bob and eye glance away, if entirely too shy for his own good. The young Grayson worries his lip as he murmurs to Silas, "Couldn't we just eat in the manison? It's safe... safer there."
Armel enters the Queenrest on the heels of Orazio, apparently taking it upon himself to keep something of an eye over the man after recent events at the Cathedral of the Pantheon. He shakes his head slowly and remarks to the owner, "Gild /is/ good, isn't she? I approve of your willingness to let your heart be ope-are those cakes?" And he's off, to gather cake for himself and the Legate, along with bourbon for himself and some for his boss, as it were. He tips a nod firmly to Silas and another, friendly and warm one to Freja as well. And yes, he is wearing his silver-edged steel and bright tabard that declares who he is for all concerned. Warhammer too, by the Gods.
Silas returns the warm smile to Orazio when his gaze alights upon him. "Legate, good to see you again," he greets with a nod. Armel and Freja are also given acknowledging nods as he seats himself, gesturing for Aiden to join the seat next to him. For his part, Silas seems unbothered by Aiden's closeness, and he leans in to murmur quietly to the young prince. "It should be safe here, too, and you can mingle with some of the notable personalities of the city," he explains as he looks to Orazio again. "The Legate here, for example."
"A friendly face!" Freja exclaims to the scarred one of Armel's. "Sent here to be the Northern face...I love being Voice." she bemoans playfully.
Armel grins and shoots back to Freja, "And there are times I like being Knight-Commander. Cake and seeing the lovely sights, for example." Eyes on Freja as he says that last bit, of course, planting the cake before his boss all the same. Duties and all.
"Lord Commander," Orazio says, offering a bow. He is martially dressed - somewhat unusual for him, with a battered looking sword at his side, and expensive leather armor...that, if we're honest, still looks mostly ceremonial. He flashes Armel a grateful look for the fetching of cake and drinks, before giving Aiden a thoughtful once over, then bowing again. "Your Highness. I am Father Orazio, Legate of Concepts. I don't believe I've had the pleasure?" His voice is, perhaps deliberately, gentle, and his smile is meant to soothe - for all that it doesn't quite seem to meet his eyes.
Freja is quick to add to Armel's wandering eyes, "I can make you eat cake the same way I made my brothers eat dirt in our youth."
Aiden is a mirror image for his older more heroic brother Ainsley, to the point that one might get them confused over physical appearances. Everything else, was different. The posturing of Aiden alone suggested timidness where Ainsley was fierce and rash. He does however, take a good look at Legate Orazio, bowing his head respectfully to the man, "Legate Orazio, how do you do? I am Prince Aiden Grayson and I'm... no, we haven't had the pleasure, until this moment."
"Oh, sure, walk in armed to the teeth. Scratch the furniture why don't you." the owner grumbles, but stays true to the announcements, allowing all in. Elsewhere, the rest of the staff is very much active, Freja getting her whiskey in record time. They may have expected that from the Northern princess. Silas and Aiden are presented a table by a passing server, and shown to the buffet tables. Or the cakes, as Sir Armel was so quick to point out. "I swear if Princess Lark hadn't ordered this..." the owner grumbles further, but it may be lost in the sound of a happy crowd, enjoying fine meals and drinks.
It takes some time before something interrupts the fine dinner. A messenger arrives, and at the top of his voice, announces proudly. "The Queen of Endings graced us with Her presence! The Gods are with us! Celebrate!" The effect of the news in the Inn is explosive, with people letting out loud cheers, and alcohol flowing more than ever.
Armel just fires right back, "You can certainly /try/, Princess." Little bit of exaggeration of the title? Surely not. Then he's turning back to Orazio and smiling warmly. "Looking a little prepared today, Legate. Good, good." He seats himself across from the man, humming to himself as he leans back to enjoy his cake.
Freja promises, "I will if you get anymore daring." She nods politely to the others nearby, though the cheers for the Queen have her looking curiously about.
Silas smiles when the two men introduce themselves to one another. "I count Father Orazio as one of my most trustworthy friends." He nods to Aiden, adding, "Much like you are one of mine, as well." He peers at the buffet table, eager to try something more savory over the cakes. Drinks were ordered, though he is careful not to order wine for Aiden. "What are you interested in eating?" He asks curiously.
Aiden takes a moment to register what has been declared, "What does that mean, the Queen of Endings graced us?" This is asked to Legate Orazio first and foremost, with his words turning upon Silas at the last, taking his seat beside the Lord Commander. The rolling choices of food has him look queasy, certainly for any meat dish that gets in front of him. Meat will be waved aside by servants, shaken off with a quick head jerk, and passed up for whatever was fruit, vegetable, or cake. "Something light, my stomach is still in knots and... I choose not to eat meat at most times, unless my father is staring me down." He gives a weak smile, then, turning his gaze back to Legate Orazio, "If the Lord Commander recommends you, as his most trusted friends, I am very honored to meet you. I received notice today that I shall be apprenticing under the Chief Magistrate, so I would hope to rely on being able to ask you both, for advice in the future?"
"I'm quite well, Prince Aiden, and it is a pleasure to meet you." There's a twitch downwards of his mouth when the messenger busts in, and Orazio watches the reaction to the news carefully. Something wary seems to loosen in the man when there are cheers, and he nods with satisfaction before his attention turns back to Armel. "It is a siege, after all. And the Faithful seem to be one of the targets of the enemy." His voice is quiet, measured, without much visible anger about that, although his eyes are harder. There's still a little of that remaining when he looks over to Silas, even as his smile widens to a grin. "You do me great credit, Lord Commander. How have things been, in the city?"
A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Silas before departing.
Armel has only a broad, cheeky grin for Freja, something of a promise for the princess before he turns back to the situation closer at hand. The news of Death's appearance raises an eyebrow, and he remarks, "God coming down to mingle with the mortals? That's a very rare and prized thing. Good for the morale, although..." Something seems to trouble him, and he shrugs it over, concentrating on his cake for the moment and seeming to relish the rare treat and ambiance.
Freja tilts her head, listening to the crowd with a furrowed brow. She goes back to her drinking and gives Armel only a playful glare. "Death is always among us, her endings and her beginnings." she waxes poetic to them.
Armel raises an eyebrow at Freja, seemingly quick with the comebacks tonight as he tells her casually, "Awful Godly of you to say. Thinking of converting?" Twitch of a smile there around his food. At least he swallows before talking.
To Aiden, Orazio says, "I imagine it means that the Queen has manifested in some fashion." He sighs, just a little. "She does tend to do that, being a touch more...hands on than most of the Pantheon." He glances over at the Princess at Armel's quip, and adds, dryly, "We are always open to the newly faithful."
His eyes flicker to a messenger who happens by and hands him a note. He unfurls it and gives it a glance, but doesn't appear to have an emotional reaction to it yet. "It seems the gods are walking among the mortals again," he answers Aiden, at his inquiry, folding the message and setting it aside. "No meats, only veggies and sweets, got it. Just like my own brother," Silas reveals with a smile to Aiden. "And yes, you can count on me to help you out with the legal matters I'm familiar with. Lady Octavia just dropped off a few books at the Barracks for us to read." He glances aside to Orazio again. "I might have found a way to detect Bringers in the city, but we'll see how that goes. Otherwise things have been... well, what you would expect."
"Yes, praise to the Gods indeed!"
This voice cuts right through the crowd. It's unclear what made it silence all others. Perhaps it's the mocking edge. Perhaps it's its depth. Or perhaps it's the power behind it, the natural magnetism that draws crowds inexplicably. Either way, those within the Inn look at each other, confused, as does the staff and owner. But even as they look, even as they search, they hear the voice again.
"But, my dear, wonderful little citizens of Her city, you need not look so confused! Death walked among you on this night! Oh, but I notice some among you hestiated at the news. You're quite right to do so." There's a pause, one in which the silence is almost deafening.
"For as above, so below."
As if on cue, a man collapses from his seat, eyes wide. He cries out in panic, shaking his head. "No! No! Please not me!" The anguish cuts to the core, but worse is when another collapses much in the same way. And then another, a young woman, picks her plate, and smashes it upon her companion's head, before throwing herself at a passing server. The room is quick to devolve in utter chaos, under the mocking laughter of the voice.
Armel checked stamina against difficulty 50, resulting in 36, 14 lower than the difficulty.
Aiden doesn't know what to say to the miracle of a god appearing to a crowd, instead he looks properly awestruck. He'll keep quiet now, with a faint smile for Silas' words about his own brother keeping to veggies and sweets, and also to the notion of helping when it comes to the matters of law. He does tell, "It should be a beneficial vocation that is worthy of the Grayson name." He will pick and pull at the food that he does take.
Orazio checked stamina against difficulty 50, resulting in 24, 26 lower than the difficulty.
Silas checked stamina against difficulty 50, resulting in 54, 4 higher than the difficulty.
Freja checked stamina against difficulty 50, resulting in 33, 17 lower than the difficulty.
Aiden checked stamina against difficulty 50, resulting in 16, 34 lower than the difficulty.
Armel has rolled a critical success!
Armel checked mana + theology against difficulty 15, resulting in 67, 52 higher than the difficulty.
Orazio checked composure against difficulty 20, resulting in 24, 4 higher than the difficulty.
Orazio checked dexterity + medicine against difficulty 15, resulting in 9, 6 lower than the difficulty.
Mathias GM Roll checked dexterity(6) + archery(6) against difficulty 15, resulting in 56, 41 higher than the difficulty.
There is chaos, and violence, and people tearing each other to pieces. And in the middle of that, there is a voice, rolling and rumbling nad raising higher and higher in pitch. "Gild, blessed be your name, Shield me from these lies and machinations. Show me the true path, protect this knight from the horrors committed by those who oppose you." As he speaks, a golden glow begins to suffuse his body, a veritable light that radiates from him to form a shining barrier about his body. His vision clears, and he rises from the floor where he had stumbled in his temporary despairing state. He looks at the people around him and growls out, "No. Not again. Not this time." His very eyes seem to glow, just for a moment.
Aiden checked dexterity + stealth against difficulty 15, resulting in 28, 13 higher than the difficulty.
That roast fowl looked -delicious-, and Silas wasted no time in digging into it with his teeth. Soon after he does, however, his senses detect an alarming taste... and unbeknownst to the others around him, Silas was an apothecary! An utter novice, but it was enough. He immediately drops the piece of meat and quickly knocks over Aiden's plate in an effort to stop him from consuming more, but it was already too late. He remains conscious, but barely, and quickly jumps to his feet and turns to confront the voice...
Only to get shot in the chest by an arrow. It pierces through the steel he wears and he stumbles, nearly falling over the table. Seething in fury and pain, he reaches over to pry the arrow out of his flesh, then unsheathes his alaricite blade. "Can't detect them quickly -enough-, apparently..."
Orazio really should know better. He's a /Lycene/. But the Queensrest has always been safe, and the Legate's expression goes distressed - then disturbinly slack. In his mind, he's standing, walking through the dead, towards where the Most Holy cradles a broken body and looks at him with accusing eyes. Orazio's mouth moves. "Not...this isn't real...poison..." he makes motions towards his mouth, as if to try and force himself to purge. But before he can /find/ his mouth in the real world, he is choking on his own, his throat closed and reeling.
Freja checked dexterity + medicine against difficulty 15, resulting in 23, 8 higher than the difficulty.
Aiden blanches, his entire frame going stiff from fear before it descends into a mass of trembling muscles. The sound that comes out of his throat as the world descends into an abyssal chaos is a quiet mewling whimper. His tongue licks suddenly dry lips as his hand follows from his stoamch to his throat, as if he was feeling some odd sensation. And then the young Prince's eyes become heavy and his limbs slacken, a weakness that has the young man's face hit the table. From there he seems to suffer from some sort of terror of the mind, convulsing on the table, his face planted in a fancy salad, sauce and all. Then he pushes up out of the salad bowl, green leaves and other veggies returning to the surface of the table and oozing down his face... until all of a sudden he's scrambling underneath the table, "Beds... under beds are safe. He won't find me.. he won't... I didn't I didn't do anything...Safe. Must be safe. Safe. Safe. Hiding. Hide. Hide. Hide." He starts to sob a little bit from underneath the table, his head drawing up at some question, someone mocks his hiding spot. Abruptly there's a pain like no other that has him slamming upward against the table and then pitching forward underneath the table, crying out with his hand going to his back.
As the poison took its toll Freja swayed, holding the edge of the bar as her vision blurred and the burn welled up in her throat and stomach.
Some resort to prayer, others to..puking. Freja resorts to the ol' two fingers to the throat to make herself retch over the side of the bar, purging herself of the poison and glass of whiskey. This is probably the first time a Redrain -has- puked in the Queensrest, though it isn't an uncommon sight if you travel just a touch more North to the Spirits. She coughs, sputtering at that taste in her mouth as her eyesight begins to return and she sees people beginning to rip each other apart. "And amid all of this, where is the Queen?" she growls under her breath, spitting the last taste of poison out of her mouth and onto the floor. Do they charge extra for that?
"Oh Armel, I'm so very glad you did that. I wouldn't want you to miss any of the fun." the voice mocks, though it does sound quite happy. "But I'm afraid you'll have to set your little heroics aside for a moment." it remarks as one of the berserk citizens throws themselves at Armel, attacking with frenzied abandon, with no concern to their own safety. Silas soon likewise becomes busy with a young woman holding someone's leg turning on him and trying her best to cave his face in with it. Aiden, rolling under the table, momentarily escapes his attacker, a man with a knife, still bloody from the stab he delivered to his back. Throughout all that chaos, few are there to reply to Freja. In fact, strangely... they don't seem to go anywhere near her.
Armel has rolled a critical success!
Armel checked command + leadership against difficulty 15, resulting in 70, 55 higher than the difficulty.
Silas checked dexterity + medium wpn against difficulty 30, resulting in 83, 53 higher than the difficulty.
Silas checked dexterity + dodge against difficulty 30, resulting in 41, 11 higher than the difficulty.
Armel checked dexterity + dodge against difficulty 30, resulting in 33, 3 higher than the difficulty.
Aiden has rolled a critical success!
Aiden checked stamina + athletics against difficulty 30, resulting in 30, 0 higher than the difficulty.
Freja checked mana + occult against difficulty 30, resulting in 26, 4 lower than the difficulty.
Orazio checked command + intimidation against difficulty 50, resulting in 48, 2 lower than the difficulty.
Silas growls ferally and -charges- at the woman attempting to murder him with a disembodied limb. Predictably, this effort doesn't succeed, and Silas raises his blade and plunges it through her like a hot knife through butter. After prying the sword out from her corpse, he immediately moves towards the knife-wielding man going after Aiden. The frenzied man puts his sights on him and attempts a stab, but Silas smoothly sidesteps...
"Come to your damn senses, people! Stand down. Everyone not insane and at arms, to me!" His voice booms out over the inn, reaching all ears and penetrating the barrage of chaos around the place, causing most of the staff to seek shelter, but unable to stop the beserk man trying to end his life. He isn't in a mood to slay a person who is, in effect, innocent. He holds him at bay fairly easily with his warhammer, thumping him away from himself and ducking his efforts to tackle the knight. He's not enormous, but he /is/ very strong and nimble enough, even in plate.
Sticky hot blood seeps out of the wound in Aiden's back, fortunate he didn't get hit in the spine, but the wound was serious enough to get through armor and . He cries out again, one of those hurtful sounds as he wiggles toward one of the legs of the table, his arm curling around it to hold himself up, face rolled into the wood as he hugs it. Soft sobs come from him, his eyes still heavy and pupils dilated, when they're open. At this point they're closed right now, arms clenching hold of that table leg as if it were a life preserver. Until he blacks out. Or does he? There's something that makes his legs thrash out and kick, as if he were running, before he's working his way out from underneath the table, a scream in his throat. When his eyes blink again, he stands up, looking horrified at the slaughter going on in the Queensrest. Locked in a state of confusion, wobbling on his feet, sagging against a chair, blood leaking down his leathers, he turns to see Silas kill a woman... and that has him staggering back and tripping over his feet, spilling onto the ground, gasping as Silas engages another man.
While Freja's retort and words had been cutting, there is a sharp pivot of odds and for some reason Freja is suddenly on her knees, her hands on her forehead and her fingers digging into her temples to the point her knuckles turn white. The Shaman slips into an antiquated tongue of her beloved North, muttering a mantra of what can only be prayers before she slips back into the common Arxian(?) and screams a loud, stubborn, "FUCK YOU!"
Orazio stands, his eyes fixed on something only he can see, seemingly unaware of the chaos around him. "You would judge me, you soulless monstrosities? You who have shriven your own souls for what? To doom the world? Not only monstrous, but mad and poisoned down to your soulless cores as well. You have no /right/ to stand--" and then he breaks off, looks down at something, and shouts in pain, even anguish, before throwing himself backwards, falling to the floor. There, sense returns to his eyes, though slowly, and he looks around, the smell of blood in his nostrils. "Pin...pin them," he does try to say, his usually powerful voice weakened. "They know not...what they do..."
Soon, few remain who aren't in the grips of the insane frenzy, the others torn apart, or cowering as Armel commanded them to. Grunts, growls, even howls, those are beasts that now turn to the men and women still left standing. Not all of them, of course. Some simply throw themselves at eachother, biting, clawing, screaming. And through it all, the voice's mocking laughter. "Take heart, your Queen, protector of souls, walks! But tonight, so do I."
The man with the knife remains concentrated on Silas, though soon joined by another, trying to flank him. Two other frenzied citizens leap towards Freja, apparently... no longer protected. No, instead Armel becomes the eye of the storm, for some reason... A reason soon revealed.
"Remember what I said about your eyes, Sir Knight?"
Armel checked dexterity + dodge against difficulty 15, resulting in 41, 26 higher than the difficulty.
Mathias GM Roll checked dexterity(6) + small wpn(6) against difficulty 15, resulting in 69, 54 higher than the difficulty.
Orazio checked mana + theology against difficulty 60, resulting in 11, 49 lower than the difficulty.
Silas checked willpower against difficulty 30, resulting in 6, 24 lower than the difficulty.
Silas checked dexterity + medium wpn against difficulty 30, resulting in 60, 30 higher than the difficulty.
Armel checked command + intimidation against difficulty 50, resulting in 15, 35 lower than the difficulty.
A howl of agony. A spray of blood that arcs from Armel's face to splatter across the hearth. It is sudden and intense, and then Armel is on his knees, hand clutching to his face as blood /pours/ down it. If any were watching, it looked almost like his eye exploded, a rather gruesome sight to be sure. The knight calls out, "You bastard! You Demonspawn piece of filth! Come from the shadows and face me!" But there is no booming, leaderly voice. No, as he struggles to rise, he manages only a halting croak, his hammer still held in one hand, but looking drained and horribly injured by whatever the beast did to him. He staggers to stand before Orazio, despite his condition, shaking his head as if to clear it even as he keeps one hand clamped over the wound.
Aiden checked dexterity + stealth against difficulty 15, resulting in 23, 8 higher than the difficulty.
Orazio raises himself, slowly and painfully, to his feet, looking all of his nearly fifty years and then some. "Silent Watcher," he implores, "restore the scales to balance. Undo the wickedness done unto the innocent in this place, let justice be done and truth restored to these clouded eyes..." But his voice is still week, the Legate swaying on his feet, and there is no answer. Except...
From the darkness, that voice mocks, "Oh, please, the more the merrier. Gild already answered...and you know what that means, Priest."
Orazio pivots to try and face the direction of that voice, his expression growing thunderous. "Coward! Bereft of courage and strength, you strike at the innocent, but it does not hide your weakness. It only proves it."
There isn't a beat of hesitation in Silas when he moves to engage the knife-wielding man and his new posse. The increase of numbers seems to enrage him even -more-. His alaricite blade flashes through the air, carving limb from bodies and leaving the immediate area around him a bloody mess. When it is done, and all the people who crowded him were now little more than piles of quivering flesh, his bright glare shoots up... searching for another...
Aiden watches with a horrific expression on his face as Silas slices through people as if they were nothing, their bodies falling and guts spewing out around their eviscerated flesh. Aiden is on his butt, the stains of his own wound streaking against the floor as he scrambles back when he sees Silas looking around with that murderous rage. Aiden squeaks, like a damn mouse, and does what he always does... Hides. He scurries underneath a table and flips it onto it's side, crashing plates and food and everything all over before he rolls underneath another one. There he'll put his hands to his ears, sitting on his knees, sobbing, murmuring the name of his family.
As the pair of men lunge at Freja she manages to roll away, steadfast in her outright refusal to strike them and she continues to see to her prayers. She plants her right hand firmly on the ground below, fingers fanned as the Northern mantra continues. For a moment her gaze goes distant, unfocused as it tends to do when she does her rituals and then her eyes brighten with focuse again. Her attention darts instantly to Armel and slowly she approaches that general vicinity, her steps measured and soft amid all of the chaos.
Another cruel laugh. "Oh please, old man, infuse your charges with defiance. Make them fight. Make them stand up against all odds. Fill them with righteous fury. It is only sweeter when I devour them, as I have devoured your people on this day." Yet no body was so devoured, the bite marks to be seen done only by the frenzied ones. By now, only one remains... Silas, still in the grips of his rage, looking, hunting...
Orazio checked command + leadership against difficulty 30, resulting in 44, 14 higher than the difficulty.
Orazio reaches out to briefly touch Armel's armor, his expression stricken as he sways. But as much pain as the knight is obviously in, the Lord Commander is a more pressing threat, so Orazio forces himself forward, not reaching for the blade at his hip, but rather spreading his hands and trying not to look down at the butchered bodies he's stepping over. "Lord Commander Silas Mercier, /lower your blade/." His voice is as sharp as a whipcrack, dredged up from whatever reserves he has left. "Look around you, man. Do /not/ allow this puling, cursed shadow be your master. You are stronger than this!"
Mathias GM Roll checked dexterity(6) + brawl(6) against difficulty 29, resulting in 54, 25 higher than the difficulty.
Aiden is still hiding under the table. He's got his hands over his ears and his eyes are shut.
Armel checked dexterity + medicine against difficulty 15, resulting in 18, 3 higher than the difficulty.
Armel takes a few moments, in the lull of the fight, to wrap a bandage around his face, doing his level best to keep his rage up to righteous levels and ignore the implications of the fact he can only see out of one, it seems. He moves to stand behind Orazio, tensed and ready in case Silas doesn't listen to the Legate.
Silas takes a step towards the prone Aiden, leering, but Orazio's voice seems to tug him back like a puppet getting his strings suddenly pulled back. It doesn't seem to immediately break through -- the alaricite blade in his hand is clenched one last time -- before his gaze dims and the tension coiled in his muscles begins to ebb. He's eerily silent, but the blade does lower...
Mathias GM Roll checked dexterity(6) + dodge(6) against difficulty 15, resulting in 84, 69 higher than the difficulty.
Freja checked dexterity + brawl against difficulty 15, resulting in 25, 10 higher than the difficulty.
Mathias GM Roll checked dexterity(6) + small wpn(6) against difficulty 15, resulting in 95, 80 higher than the difficulty.
Freja checked dexterity + dodge against difficulty 15, resulting in 53, 38 higher than the difficulty.
In the midst of the clamor, the blood, and the booze all over the floor Freja had approached what she thought was the prime position to strike. That falls short of what was anticipated as she is lifted up in the air and, kicking and screaming against what they may or may not see, is hurled against a wall. Hard. She is winded and stays there for a moment, coughing until she regains her breath. In those few seconds that drag on long, an agonizing small eternity in her mind, the scout springs up to her feet and bum rushes the general area from which she was thrown.
Whatever she was aiming for, she misses. Worse still, a wound appears on her back and begins to bleed, the trickle of red finding the grooves of the runes on the back of her cuirie. The push of the attack sends her against the other wall where she crumples like a broken doll.
"A Legate forsworn by his Gods. A broken knight with his broken sight, something he no doubts share with the bear cub, for all the good her own have done her. A mouse playing with hawks, and the Lord Commander of the Iron Guard, slaughtering hapless citizens. Oh, I'm sure your city is eager to thank you for your service. Enjoy, my dear friends, your greatest hour." the voice mocks. And then... it's gone.
Shortly after, Iron Guards and patrolling Knights of Solace arrive on the scene. For all the violence, for all the torment, not very long went by. There are shocked looks among all those who arrive on the scene of carnage, the broken bodies, the husks of the poor men and women who fell prey to the monster's cruel prank. And the survivors, each with their own wounds, of body... or spirit.
Armel whirls around as Freja is thrown not once, but twice. "Oh, go burn in the Abyss!" he shouts. It is /not/ his best speech ever, but he's bleeding and hurt and traumatized and eager to get over toward the wounded Freja.As soon as the voice and presence is gone, hustles over, pulling forth some bandages in trembling hands to try and staunch the bleeding. He directs the Knights nearby to try and do the same, all those who have the knack. He doesn't look at Silas. He doesn't acknowledge, now that it's over, that the man exists after he lowers his weapons.
Silas checked composure against difficulty 15, resulting in 15, 0 higher than the difficulty.
Orazio relaxes, just a little, as the blade lowers. But Freja's attempt to attack the enemy - and its horrific counterattack - robs him of any satisfaction. That, and the bodies around them, have his shoulders bowing. "Don't. It's gone. For now." Seeing Armel move towards Freja, he moves to try and find any living among the bodies on the floor, providing immediate medical attention where he can...and last rites where he can't.
Aiden will remain underneath that table, for as long as it takes to convince him to come out, which might require a particular Grayson sister to do so, or some extra force to jostle him out. For now, if he's ignored and let be, he'll huddle underneath the safety of the table.
Freja just kinda lays there for now, the cut on her back a little too close for comfort to her spine. It missed any vital organs or the lungs though! Still, her breathing is shallow and the cut clean and deep. The Princess is dazed and somewhat out of it, not nearly as big a meatshield as her brothers.
Silas looks at the bodies at his feet, finally beginning to realize the carnage he had wrought. The violent attack on Freja barely registers to him as he gazes, dumbfounded. The expectant looks from his own men aren't even noticed until someone shouts out and finally shakes him out of his reverie. "I... get the wounded out..." He commands, voice shaking. His gaze eventually finds Aiden's huddled form, and he looks like he may empty the contents of his own stomach. Silas approaches slowly. "Aiden...?"
Armel kneels next to Freja, attempting to bandage up her wound as he tells the Knights entering tightly, "Assist the Guard. Those who are dead, organize against the wall. Those still clinging, find mercies or take them to the House of Solace. Detain the Staff for questioning." He then mostly just tries to get the poor Redrain princess stabilized. He's not a Mercy, but he knows how to stop bleeding...Mostly.
"Be careful on your way," Orazio tells the Knights, agreeing with Armel's orders with a brief nod of his own. He pauses, hands bloody from checking for life, and he points some towards those not quite dead. Eventually, he reaches the Grayson Prince, and reaches down beneath the table, to put his hand on the younger man's shoulder and try to get his attention. If he succeeds, he whispers something in the man's ear.
Aiden instinctively shuffles away from Silas as he approaches, all covered in gore of people! He's lost enough blood to keep the weakness in his frame but he refuses to move out from underneath the table, with the gore decorating the floors all around him. The terror was clearly etched into his mind, so much so that he jumps and yelps at Orazio's hand on his shoulder!
"Fuck, FUCK." Freja remarks anything but ladylike as she begins to push herself up to a sitting position. She inhales sharply, a hiss of breath at the sting of the wound on her back and the bruises that will surely form from the first throw against the wall. Instinctively, she moves to hit whatever is touching her, but stops when she realizes it is someone only trying to help her. With a scowl she allows it, sharp eyes scanning the room for a demon that is no longer there.
Aiden shakes his head fiercely at Orazio, shaking virbations running through his limbs, answering back in a stuttering mumble.
Armel snorts quietly, his deadpan, raspy voice a low whisper. "He's gone. And stop moving, you'll tear the bandages loose, and then I'll be pretty pissy." He then manages the last wrapping, helping get the woman in a position to stop bleeding everywhere. Not that he can talk, his own blood coating a good portion of the front of his plate and tabard. He does /not/ look at the dead bodies. Or Silas. Or much of anyone, staggering to his feet and rolling his shoulders before offering to help the Princess up, if she's willing, looking eager for the exit and wobbly on his feet.
Orazio checked command + leadership against difficulty 15, resulting in 53, 38 higher than the difficulty.
Silas halts when Aiden shuffles away from him. He looks struck and simply stands there, watching the exchange between the Legate and the prince but not daring to go any further. He glances down at the blade in his hand with a glimpse of disgust and it finds its way back into its scabbard.
Orazio frowns. He tightens his hand on the Prince's shoulder - which /might/ be the stabbed shoulder - and even at a whisper, the whipcrack of his voice can be heard as he leans in and speaks quietly once again.
She remains silent through the bandaging, tightening her jaw before taking his hand and pulling herself up to her feet with a noted wince and favoring the side that was stabbed. "I'll stay behind, help." she offers to Orazio and the others, in whatever way can be for clean up...morale? She is no mercy."
Aiden checked composure against difficulty 7, resulting in 4, 3 lower than the difficulty.
Aiden checked command + diplomacy against difficulty 15, resulting in 25, 10 higher than the difficulty.
Armel nods, turning to see that the Mercies, Knights, and Guardsmen are attending to those who still breath. "Okay, I'm gonna..Go get this seen to then," he says to nobody in particular. He doesn't know that guy under the table, and is /not/ about to interfere with that whole mess. He begins to shuffle off, weaving slightly and needing to catch himself on the doorframe for a moment or two before proceeding.
Whatever was said with that whipcrack voice, Aiden can be seen finally shuffling out from underneath the table, rising with a wariness of injury, physically, mentally, and spiritually. However, with a look cast to Orazio, he holds a resolute posture as if undeterred. Strength not his own, but in the Grayson blood, he pronounces, "Another evil, a test, and we have survived. House Grayson suffers with, fights with, and survives with. We will win." With that, he looks to his guards, thankfully both have survived being stabbed at, waving them over to help him. He looks at Orazio, "Thank you, for your words." He looks to Silas, then turns to head out with the aid of his guardsmen.
Silas lets Aiden leave without protest. He turns to the exit himself, one guantleted hand wiping at his face. "I will go. I have no more use here," he announces with the evenness of his voice returning. His men would stay to clean up.
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