Dark Jack

The Prophecy

Zerul City, the Platinum Goblet

The tavern keeper seemed mildly disappointed when Kaedan simply ignored his offer of buying out one of the refugees currently occupying his rooms, but otherwise nothing really came of it, and the man simply excused himself for a moment to go and fetch the blankets he had promised his newest costumer. The deigan woman observed him for another few seconds before simply turning her attention back to the refugees around her, seeming to settle for regarding this stranger with indifference. Some of the tavern patrons still seemed somewhat wary of Kaedan, but for most part the great amounts of attention that had come to center on him quickly dispersed and everyone returned to what they had been doing previously.
It was not that these people were so stricken with fear from their recent ordeal that they regarded everyone else as a threat, nor was it because Kaedan was a foreigner, which all things considered was actually not all that evident at just a glance. The reason people stared at him, were afraid of him and that the tavern keeper had tried to first cheat him and then offer him better quarters and privacy at the expense of others was mostly because of his equipment. Steel was expensive, and while this particular warrior's armor, shield and hammer were not as ornamental as could be expected from the likes of paladins or royal knights they were obviously of decent quality and heavy enough to have been very expensive. With a person donning such valuable gear the natural assumption was that he was in a position wherein he could afford it, which rather conflicted with his choice of place to stay the night in this case.
The first thought these people had had about Kaedan - upon seeing his wealthily clad form and impressive dimensions - had been that he was there to prey upon them, people who were strangers in a place where no one would defend them, and who were unlikely to have the strength to defend themselves. It was not unusual for thugs and muggers to emerge during times of crisis like this, and in such cases establishments like the Platinum Goblet would be obvious targets. Once it became evident that he had no interest in the refugees, this turned the probable purpose of his presence there to two other possibilities: either he was there to get drunk cheaply, or he was there looking for prostitutes... or both. When he asked for a place to stay rather than a drink this disproved the former option, and when he had not accepted the offer of the privacy of a room he had made the latter very improbable. By then people were reaching the conclusion that he was not doing as well financially as his equipment suggested and was actually there out of necessity after all, and turned away from him. Most still recognized him as being dangerous, however, which was undeniably the case. People kept their distance and remained guarded near him, but he was no longer the center of attention.

Kaedan received his blankets - stained and moth-ridden, but decently warm and soft - and was allowed to pick anywhere to sleep. Next morning was rather like the evening in that there were still refugees crowding the common room, though they were much more quiet and reserved now, with many of them sleeping. There were no longer any patrons drinking at the bar, and the tavern keeper seemed to have left, probably get some sleep himself. There was still some stifled sniffling in the corners, but most tears had dried over the night and settled into dull aching that would likely take much more than a night's rest to remedy, if it ever faltered.
The true deigan was still there, though, and rather than sleeping she was doing something that would seem rather unusual to most. Sitting on top of the table closest to the counter with her legs drawn up beneath her, her frayed skirt arranged so that it covered both knees and feet and everything in-between. She sat with her back straight and her eyes closed, her expression neutral, with her left hand resting in her lap and her right hand held out from her in waist-height, palm upturned and fingers fully stretched. In it she was balancing a dagger which stood with the pommel of its handle resting in the hollow of her hand, and stood with the blade straight up. The hilt of the dagger was somewhat decorative, having inlaid patterns silver in its iron surface and what appeared to be a small pearl socketed into it just below the base of the blade on either side, but the blade was plain steel, long and too thick to cut very well despite of its edges evidently being sharpened. It was a weapon not meant for dealing anything but superficial cuts if used to slash, but which could stab deep into flesh and bone and was sturdy enough to be twisted subsequently to cause irrevocable damage; a weapon meant for dealing death.
Granted, anyone who knew about true deigan culture would not be too surprised at this, since it is an ancient tradition among their people for families to gift young individuals a dagger for their fortieth birthday, as a symbol of their entry into the pursuit of ambition that defined their people. Virtually every true deigan possessed a dagger that they carried with them at all times, either for self-defense, for being able to seize opportune targets or just to be prepared in case one was challenged to a duel. But this just served to further emphasize how unusual it was to see a true deigan selflessly trying to aid unfortunate people like these refugees, with no hope of reward. Their culture was centered around individualism, ambition and pride, all of which was epitomized by their daggers.
The dagger occasionally wobbled slightly, but always seemed to immediately stabilize again without the woman perceivably moving her hand in the slightest.

---

Zerul City, the alley

"You wish no further..." the guard corporal repeated with disbelief, still not lowering his halberd, just as the two other halberds flanking him and the crossbow behind him remained raised and ready for combat. This third man, currently incapacitated as he was, had just tried to attack them, and these other two were trying to pass it off as just something that happened and should be forgiven and forgotten? The red-clad masked man that was still conscious had instantly teleported and remotely manipulated a knife through magic to knock someone unconscious... and they were supposed to simply ignore it? When they had also found these very same people in a secluded alley with a dead woman? It was a lot to ask, even for someone like I'on. It was too much, in fact; none of the guardsmen had any doubt that they were supposed to apprehend these people, or at the very least the unconscious one that had tried to attack them. Had he been a tarke he could at least have been excused by their infamous battle-induced blood-frenzy, but that was not the case; there was no excusing his actions.
The thing that kept the corporal from giving the order for his people to move forward and capture these men was not doubt in whether it was the right thing to do, but doubt in whether they were at all capable of successfully doing so. They said that they were exhausted and did not want any further transgression, and all except I'on were visibly injured, but... well, their squad of guardsmen were all just regular men and women trained for guard-duty, good enough to have survived the new situations that guardsmen found themselves in after the military had been redirected, but with no magical talent or extraordinary combat prowess. I'on, meanwhile, was known to be a powerful magus and to have quite a temper, and this other man had just teleported and used magic right in front of them, and he had not even drawn any of his weapons yet. Without even considering the capabilities of the third man - who had demonstrated impressive speed and ferocity, but little else before being incapacitated - their chances did not look too good if they picked a fight with these people. And that was not even counting the political consequences that could come from guardsmen getting in a fight with a personal friend of the duke...

"But..." the corporal spluttered, then suddenly stiffened. The Drunken Dove, I'on had said? Despite the implications of its name it was actually a decent establishment with reasonable prices, relatively popular among the middle-class citizens in its vicinity. But reports had also suggested... yes, that could work, could it not? Surely, if these people were troublemakers after all, they would not get to cause any such there.
"Stand down," came the order, as halberds were raised back into a neutral stance and the crossbow was lowered. The three other members of the squad looked relieved; so did the leader. This was not how any of them wanted to die. "The Drunken Dove, you say? We'll escort you there, sir, and make sure nothing else happens." To you or because of you.

The Prophecy

So there would be no comment on the tavern keeper's latter offer and just blunt acceptance of the former one? In that case an immediate fast-forward could be justified, especially if Kaedan really is too tired to feasibly do much of anything this evening. I'll make a quick post skipping to the next morning in the tavern soon, then... as soon as I find a moment to do so in.

And technically yes, Rhaevnn, in the sense that damage sustained by a vampire's brain does real rapidly (as long as there's vampiric blood available, and if that wasn't the case for the brain I imagine one would have significantly greater problems than unconsciousness on one's hands), although as Shien has pointed out many times in the past, unconsciousness rarely last long in humans, either, unless they sustained quite severe damage. Usually one transitions between unconsciousness and sleep if one actually remains inert for more than a brief period of time, or just revives quickly.

The Prophecy

Well, I was thinking that the tavern, without any fast-forwarding and so in current time, would serve admirably as a scene for Kaedan to occupy for the moment... as in, he could react to what the tavern keeper is saying, if you'll excuse suggesting the obvious. Just roll with what I have the NPCs do and say, basically, and treat at least the tavern keeper and the deigan woman as player-controlled characters for the time being. Let Kaedan live and do what comes natural to him... roleplay, basically.
I had hoped that the scene would find a natural progression without too much OOC-input on its contents, but in case it aids your motivation I will reveal that one of the people in the Platinum Goblet is what you'd call a notable NPC and potential companion...

The Prophecy

I'll post again when time advances.

@Veridis Quo

Uh... okay. Why wait until, if it's okay to ask? The scene is set up for Kaedan, and you by extension, to have something to do in the meantime while the rest of the characters catch up on Kaedan's place and time (already the characters are scattered not only geographically, but also chronologically. I think I'on, Ixion and Morgan's group occupy a time relatively close to the one Aemoten's group is in, although I think they are a bit later, Kaedan exists in the evening of the same day, and Jillian and Gerald actually exist in the previous evening). It's okay if you just don't feel like RP'ing Kaedan, I guess (though I would point out that events that take place in that tavern will be just as real and have just as much impact on the story as those taken anywhere else), but you certainly don't have to feel that you can't do so, or that there would be no point in doing so.

Evening! Is this still active/open?

@Frozen Soul

As Ashgan helpfully supplied faster than I could, the RP is indeed open and active (the former indicated by the new "join status"-indicator, the latter suggested by the recent addition of new posts). Feel free to submit a character for review if you want, and ask any questions you may have, and I'll do what I can to assist.

My apologies for the lack of absence and the shortness of my reply.

[@Mercinus]

That's quite all right - normally I'd even think that lack of absence was a positive thing, even if it would suggest a slight lack of real life. Joking aside it really is okay; by now I know how tough university can be. I'm just glad that things can get moving a little again in that scene.

The Prophecy

Zerul City, the Platinum Goblet

What sparse chatter had occurred in the Platinum Goblet that evening seemed to immediately still when Kaedan entered the tavern, and the disheartened sobbing of those who suffered from their losses grew muted as many eyes turned to him, watching him with distrust and fear. The deigan woman paused her application of an improvised bandage to a little girl's skinned shin, and though she remained kneeling by the child with the strip of velvet in her hands, her eyes were on the newcomer. It was not until the cloaked man approached the tavern keeper that she resumed binding the girl's wound, just as everyone else removed their focus from the stranger.
The tavern keeper's attention had been on Kaedan right from the second he entered, however, and he continued to openly observe the new visitor in his establishment with obvious interest and a little smile on the pale lips that were partway hidden behind an untamed moustache. His eyes followed Kaedan's hand eagerly as it emerged, and then fixated itself on the lone silver coin on his counter. His smirk of anticipation vanished instantly.
He gave Kaedan a quick look-over from top to toe, greedy eyes scanning the man's equipment, which was obviously of nice quality, if not quite as ornamental as that of a knight or paladin, then let out a disgruntled snort.
"Mister, eh, one rodlin aint gonna -"
Behind some ten feet behind or so behind Kaedan, at the moment standing up among the refugee-visitors, the true deigan's head snapped around to send a tavern keeper a glare as fiery as only one of their kind could manage them, and she cleared her throat as she wagged a finger at the proprietor past the newcomer.
Sneering at the woman with a look of annoyance and contempt in his eyes, the tavern keeper turned his attention back to Kaedan with a sigh. "Eh, fine, but I haven't got any rooms left; 'em Nemhimians' gone taken them all. I'll get you some, eh, blankets, though, and, eh, you can sleep wherever you think'd be best." Suddenly his smile returned, and the greed reignited in his eyes. "Of course for another, eh, piece of silver or two, I could make a room free, eh? Have some of the, eh, rabble sleep down here so you can have a bed, eh?"
The deigan still stared, still standing in the middle of the room, but made no sound of protest this time. She simply appeared to be coolly observing the events that played out before her.

The Prophecy

Two rodlin in an establishment as shabby as the Platinum Goblet is indeed quite a lot, particularly if all one got was a spot on the floor, and a minor businessman such as the proprietor of a small tavern is indeed unlikely to accept Melenian currency, which would be the copper coins you speak of. In Rodoria rodlin is the only kind of coin, and they are quite valuable. (EDIT: It also occurs to me to mention that even if the tavern keeper did accept Melenian coppers, two such coins would be nearly worthless. He'd be more likely to receive a scoff and be shown the door than to get a spot behind the stairs for that kind of money.) And yeah, I have to agree with Shien that I'd prefer if you left the actions of the NPCs (which I said earlier that I would be controlling directly) to me... it would also mean that you actually had something to do, rather than just write one post like this and then wait for other characters to catch up on the point in time Kaedan is occupying. EDIT 2: That is, the NPCs in the tavern; you don't have to change anything from before then.

The Prophecy

Duchy of Pelgaid, secluded pond

My dream? Gerald thought with grim amusement when Jillian responded to him leaving the decision in her hands. He offered her a half-hearted, regretful smile, but he could not help but to think about this being termed like that. No, it was not his dream; certainly 'not dying' did make an appearance on his list of necessary prerequisites to achieve his true goals, but it was hardly something that he would term a goal in itself. He lived for his dreams; he did not dream to be alive. He wanted to live, yes, and he would be grateful if her actions allowed him to survive, but it was not as though she was helping him fulfill his life-goal and ultimate objective.
Being a hero was even farther from being one of his dreams than simply surviving, though. He had no desire to be known as a hero, had no use for fame and did not even care if he would eventually be known as a villain; what he did now he did not for some hypothetical reward from the people of their world as they bent knee in reverence of his accomplishment, but for the sake of the world itself. He had heard of many things that could motivate a person to heroics; love, compassion, greed, ambition, lust for honor and glory, the need of feeling good about what one was doing... and people had, in the past, considered him callous for scoffing at such motivations. He did not care; maybe he even was evil, by their definition of the word. Maybe he was cruel because he was willing to make the difficult choices, to make sacrifices even if that which was sacrificed was not necessarily his to offer to fate. Maybe he was twisted, heartless and wicked, but what he did, he did for the sake of the world, nothing more and nothing less. The bigger picture allowed him to be what the world needed, even if he was not what the world wanted.
He did not know what Jillian meant when she claimed that he owed her the fulfillment of her own dream, nor was he particularly interested at that point. He was just happy that she had agreed to the bargain... and hoped that he had not misjudged how badly the Grand Master actually wanted the Withering ended.

"That's the idea," the demon replied with a nod of his head. He raised his right hand and unceremoniously snapped his fingers, calling forth a puff of flame there that, when it dissipated, left a sheet of parchment between his fingers, along with a pale-white feather quill with a tip adorned with what appeared to be pure gold. "Just saying it isn't enough, though; in my imprisonment more than ever, the reach of my power is determined by my contracts. Sign it, and the deal is done."
The paper and quill were both sent sailing through the air along an unnaturally straight path with a flick of the deity's wrist, and Gerald had no difficulty catching both of them when they reached him. The necromancer had been prepared to carefully study this contract for hours on end if needed, recalling the numerous tales of the Grand Master's trickery and deceitful loopholes, but as it turned out this contract was, for whatever reason, very short and straightforward:

I, the origin of this contract who is bound to fulfill it, the Infernal Emperor, hereby enter a wager with the signees, which will last until the end of time or until the signees violate the terms of the deal. I will bestow upon them the complete truth of the identity of the origin of the Withering, the location of this origin and the means by which the Withering is spread. If the Withering is not ended within ten days of the moment of signing, I will become the rightful owner of the soul of signee Jillian Veldaine and the artifact Omni. In the event that the Withering claims the signees, I will be entitled only to the artifact Omni. If the Withering is ended within the allotted time, by any means, I am entitled to nothing and the signees will be required to give nothing for the information.

And that was it; no lengthy paragraphs about the exact terms of the bet that could conceal a cunning loophole, no small writing, no symbols in anything but the Human Cipher or words in anything but Rodorian. It was almost disappointing, but also further evidence of just how much the Grand Master wanted them to accept.
"The contract is unique, very powerful magic," the fiend explained calmly as Gerald stared intently at the writing, almost as though expecting the letters to shift before his eyes and reveal a deception after all. "It increases my power as much as needed to fulfill it, but also binds me inescapably to its terms. I will not be able to violate it, no matter how much I might want to, once it is signed, unless you violate your terms... which I think would be a rather hard thing to accomplish. Make your mark, and the deal is done."
Gerald blinked, then looked the quill. It felt soft and smooth between his fingers, but aside from the golden tip it looked almost like sun-bleached bone. He did not even think to ask for ink; he just pressed the tip of it against the bottom of the parchment and traced his signature, and the quill left behind red writing at seemed as though it appeared in the parchment rather than on it.
He offered the quill and paper to Jillian; the contract felt heavier now, somehow. Much too heavy for just parchment. The Grand Master's fiery eyes were fixed on it. The air felt as though charged with electricity. There was no doubt that this moment was a major focal point in the web of fate, a junction into which countless threads of past culminated and countless threads of future extended. A moment that would determine the course of fate...
Despite the gravity of the situation, Gerald smiled. Jillian had wanted power; maybe this would teach her to be careful what she wished for.

The Prophecy

Instrumental music, eh? Well, you already know that I have taken a liking to Two Steps From Hell and audiomachine, both of which being sources that have served as sources of musical themes for my characters in the past, and the composer Michael Riske also strikes me as quite good, though not as productive. Other nice sources of music readily available on YouTube would be Brand X Music and Immediate Music, and also Ethos Music, though I haven't heard enough from the latter to confirm the general quality. And games with aggressive, powerful music... Well, the original Halo had some great music in it (every couple of years I like to replay it just for the music), which has been redone in countless different versions over time. In terms of powerful music, the soundtrack from Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core has some pretty notable examples, I think... That's all I can think of right now, I think. Will mention it if I think of any more.

The Prophecy

Thanks Nessa, but I know; now that I have a bit more time, with the last exam of this round out of the way, I'll be able to be more active in here again, and I will get to posting in the collab, but right now I have other things that require my attention. Getting a scene started for Veridis seemed the highest priority for the moment, and it only seemed natural to couple that with another post that went in the same thread, so those were the ones that jumped the line for the moment. I'll get to the collab soon, I promise. And I'm sorry that I haven't been as present here as I should be...

The Prophecy

For the time being, at least, I will be controlling all of the NPCs in the tavern directly... in other words I will make sure that they all behave as though they were real characters and react to what Kaedan does and says the way they would have. Would there be a side-quest if one was to address the true deigan? It's possible, though it will depend on the exact progression of events. Technically, any character in The Prophecy is a potential source of side-quests, if one wants to use that term about it, though it is a bit gamey. In any event, just have Kaedan enter and do whatever he would naturally do; I will handle the rest and try to keep it interesting.