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| A Demon Hunter Comes to Town | |
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| Topic Started: Fri Oct 30, 2009 10:20 pm (110 Views) | |
| Lady Renate Villerius | Fri Oct 30, 2009 10:20 pm Post #1 |
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With dark clouds rumbling menacingly overhead, the stranger soon lost the will to wander around aimlessly and settled on a refreshment at the local tavern. She pushed the door open and waltzed inside with an air of confidence and well-disguised curiosity about the Purple Lantern's visitors. The stranger, a 23-year old female that went by the name of Renate Villerius, had decided to leave her clan of gypsies behind to exact her carefully planned revenge. Four years previous, a band of demons had swept through her village, killing all men, women and children in sight. Their violence affected her gravely in more ways than one: her mother and younger brother were among their victims and her father had looked after her ever since. Understandably, the tragedy had made her father overprotective and worried for his daughter's safety. Being a talented wizard, he taught her the arts of spellcasting. Although magic amused her, Renate had a bigger talent for melee combat as a local martial arts teacher soon testified. She enrolled at the academy and decided to devote all her time to swordfighting, archery and every other weapon she could get her hands on. Four years later, her father passed away, allowing her to break free from his smothering influence. She'd left her childhood behind for good and readied herself for a future full of bloodshed and suffering. Now, all she needed was a place to stay. And a drink. "A glass of wine, please," Renate told the bartender and looked around for some company. Preferably the human kind. |
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| Cassie Bristow | Sat Oct 31, 2009 1:28 am Post #2 |
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Cassie's time was being wasted here. The woman stood, drawing few looks from the crowd. It was a rush of activity in the Dancer's Nest, shadows swirling where they ought to be still gave the dark building the look of a fairly calm body of black water, currents stirred by the coming and goings of the occasional shadow dancer. The woman flicked her wrist, drawing shadows around herself, surrounding every inch of skin in a black cloak. The shadows dissipated a second later as she Stepped through. Taking a route through the Plane of shadows took but a handful of seconds, time acting oddly between planes. Shadow Dancing came to her naturally, her being a Shade and infused with another allowing her to slip and flow through the folds between light with ease, more so than one who was forced to learn their craft. The shadows hardly stirred in the Purple Lantern, walking calmly into the room. A shiver ran down her spine, the tangible result of swapping through planes. She observed the crowd, taking note of the occupants. An eyebrow cocked at the human woman who sat alone. She didn't appear much, other than the well developed muscles of a swordsman. Many knew their way around a weapon around here, the Drow taking particular pride in their work. But she was alone, talented, and she drew attention. Not the safest situation, no matter your talent. Approaching, Cassie took a seat across from the traveler. She sat a moment, musing with nick as she rubbed her chin with an alabaster hand. ~I say we give her the trouble that's headed her way~ Nicodemus muttered, interested. ~You would. Suppose she kills us?~ Cassandra smiled a little. ~I can help with that. You know me. Besides, I always imagined we'd go down in flames. Big dramatic exit. Not that I've put much thought to our dying. It's not likely to happen~ The exchange took a split second. “You're between a rock and a hard place here, dear. Balefire's breeding ground for demons and unsavory mercenaries. A human draws attention.” ~You say demon like it's a bad thing~ |
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| Lady Renate Villerius | Sat Oct 31, 2009 9:58 am Post #3 |
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Faint whispers and suspicious glances from her fellow visitors attracted her attention and the demon hunter subtetly eavesdropped in the conversation of the nearby populace. "Human. Sword. Dangerous," were words she managed to pick up and her hand instinctively hovered above her trusted and oft-used swords. As a master swordsman, the weapons were an extention of herself, not merely an object attached to her hip. The metal felt cool and familiar as her fingertips brushed past the handle, hesitatingly. As the moment passed and no attack took place, the hunter visibly relaxed, straightened her back and faced the bartender who had poured her a glass of wine and deposited it on the counter. "That'll be 2 gold," he told her in a hostile tone that did not escape her. "Here's 3 gold as a tip for your excellent services," Renate said calmly and handed him the coins. A toothless smile decorated the man's haggard face and he mumbled a thank-you. Just as the hunter took a her first sip from the drink, she noticed an increase of presence and heard someone assume the chair next to her. Not wanting to cause a scene, Renate decided to let the newcomer make the first move if she so wished. Pretending not to pay attention was a tedious business and the hunter soon tired of it and went back to considering new training methods. But then, the woman spoke. "A breeding place for demons, is it? I did not know. I am no local and am merely on the look-out for a new town to live. What would you recommend?" she asked innocently and slightly looked over her shoulder to size-up the woman who had just addressed her. One thing her father had taught her from a young age was never to reveal your true business to your enemies, they cannot be trusted and will attack you from behind at the first possible opportunity. "The tavern looked safe from outside so I decided to take refuge here and rest for a while." But Renate now shifted on her chair so she faced the crowd, rather than the bartender so she would not lose sight of the demon occupants. Some of the pretty ones (sarcasm) took painstaking efforts to listen to the discourse at the bar, but the hunter kept her voice low and even to undermine their efforts. "They certainly seem interested in our conversation. I find it somewhat unnerving." |
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| Cassie Bristow | Sat Oct 31, 2009 7:49 pm Post #4 |
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“I recommend you rethink. Balefire's not the sort for a girl with any pretty face to be looking for a home in. Unless she can defend herself. Of course, sometimes it takes a bit more than defense. Don't be shy to make a name for yourself. You'll get the occasional daredevil, maybe someone who thinks themselves a challenge.” Cassie smiled at the bartender, slipping him a couple of coins and nodding. The man swept them up with his newfound smile, reaching under the bar. Coming up with a glass and a bottle in the same hand, he set it down and poured the red wine into the glass. She let him fill it half full before flicking her wrist. “You've got a funny sense of safety, love. It's a good place to get stabbed in the back. Two swords in their sheaths aren't much good if there's a dagger sheathed in your spine.” Cassie sipped her drink, closing her eyes as she luxuriated in the taste. Swallowing it, she smiled warmly. Alcohol had little to no effect on her, it would kill her before it got her drunk. If she fell unconscious, Nicodemus would take control. “Let them listen. If they try anything, they'll never hear again. I can promise you as much.” Cassie's hand slipped under her cloak, held closed by the thick leather vest over it, a light, ridged leather pauldron on her left shoulder. Running a finger over the hilt of her blade, the handle protruding from one of the pockets in her pouch, looking impossibly small. She had to be careful with the vampiric blade now. Its thirst had reasserted itself, now not only sucking life from the victim, but leaving a trace inside a wound, eating away at life, rendering the spreading wound as dust. It even ate away at her surroundings when it thirsted. Quickly it was becoming all it was made out to be, the second Tool. Sipping once more, the woman appraised Lady Renate. “So, what is it you're really here for?” |
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| Lady Renate Villerius | Sun Nov 1, 2009 11:27 am Post #5 |
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As the atmosphere in the tavern grew darker and more tense, the demon hunter licked her lips in anticipation of a possible brawl and gulped down her wine. Her trained battle senses worked in overdrive and her hearing would pick up on any indication of danger. Due to her experience with the kill, the woman remained calm and at ease, soothingly beholding the foreign woman as she spoke her words of warning. "Can I have another wine, please?" Renate asked and handed the bartender a few gold coins. The demon eyed her suspiciously, but remained silent and quickly filled her order and muttered something unintelligible under his breath, which the hunter discarded as irrelevant. Instead, she downed her wine and savoured the aftertaste. "I am more than capable of defending myself, I assure you," the hunter said softly, not feeling compelled to prove herself just yet. "I have not yet decided where to purchase a home. I am looking for a suitable town whence to....operate," she finished, smiling. Her occupation of revenge did not pay the bills so she had a mind to expand her business, for certainly it could be deemed a business of sorts, namely the demon killing business. And in that case, it could be a profitable one when advertised properly. Renate invisioned her advertisement in the local paper: demon hunter seeks clients who are willing to pay a small sum for demon killing activities. "Another glass of wine, please," the hunter told the bartender and playfully pushed three gold coins in his direction. The demon behind the counter obliged instantly and poured her another glass, which she emptied in a blink of an eye. It would be her last glass, she promised herself, knowing her history of alcohol and how it had ended in bloodshed and public displays of drunkeness. More embarrassing than the regular table-dancing sort. "I am not too worried about being attacked in the back. I can smell their stench from a mile away. Still, they may try to surprise me if they like. It would rather amuse me to fend off their pitiful attacks," Renate laughed, letting the veil of her fake persona slowly slip off her visage. Wine always affected her like this, feeding her ego and numbing her common sense. "So, you look like a skilled fighter," she resumed and played with a gold coin on the counter. As to the woman's last question, Renate shrugged and tried to shake off her tipsy state. "I'm a professional warrior - a hunter of demons," she whispered in the woman's ear so her fellow demons would not hear and grow alarmed. Their safety was ensured for now. Unless they willed it otherwise. "But naturally, I only kill those who mean me and my kind harm. I have no quarrel with demons who live peacefully. I am seeking out my parent's killer - a horde of demons who destroyed my village years ago." After this sudden act of confidence, the hunter's senses noticed a mild change in the tavern - the inhabitants grew restless and uneasy. Had they somehow understood the whispered exchange? Renate reached for her weapon underneath her coat and hoped for the best. "I'm making your friends nervous," the hunter told her neighbour. |
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| Cassie Bristow | Mon Nov 2, 2009 5:23 am Post #6 |
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Cassie smiled behind her glass as she tipped it up, sipping smoothly. Closing her eyes, the shade savored the taste. Letting the drink wash down her throat, she smiled warmly. “I'm no talent with a blade on my own.” the corner of her mouth tugged up as the woman confessed her profession. “Pity to hear it. I suppose it's a favorable thing, that we're meeting nicely. You know, demons can help you in so many ways.” She locked her eyes on Renate's. Nicodemus stirred to the surface to join her gaze, two beings looking out. As odd as the situation sounded, the fact was eerily obvious. Curiosity piqued, the shade stirred the last layer of wine left in her glass. “What if I were to tell you I'm not alone in here?” she tapped her temple, smiling as if she were speaking with a child. Her left hand remained on the hilt of her sword. Slowly the bar in front of her dried out, dying. Feeling the trickle of life making its way to her, the woman jerked her hand from the hilt. ~Be careful with that. Not for idly playing with. Gods forbid you run with it.~ ~Last I recall, it's you that decides what works when.~ “Friends? You've got it all wrong, dear. They'd love to put a knife in my back as desperately as they would in yours. They've just resigned to the fact that they can't.” Cassie set down the empty wine glass, eying the woman handling her blade. Leaning close, Cassandra whispered low. “I'd rather you not start a fight here. I've got enough trouble riding my case to have a slaughter added to the list. For all you know, it might not be them wallpapering the bar.” Cassie's voice was cold, her breath carrying frost. |
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| Krieger Bach | Fri Nov 13, 2009 10:43 am Post #7 |
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Balefire… too many evil creatures seemed to love this city, following in the generational footsteps governed by their forefathers. The black spot the was ever on the horizon was the taunt of Paladins, the darkness held darker souls, but with different wants. The breaking Paladin known as Krieger had attempted, and failed. His sense going wild with the evils which were walking the streets of the dark and rainy city; his impulse and broken, he attacked the first evil being he could, and quickly fell to it and its minions. It was odd, though, that they kept him alive despite his unquenched blood thirst and want to kill them. Perhaps they saw him as some twisted brethren, though that couldn’t be the case. They bound his arms and took his weapon, dragging him behind as they spoke in their language. He was beaten, and the pace they kept coupled with the slippery stone made it difficult for him to retaliate. They made a quick turn, showing their lack of care for his being. Perhaps they were taking him to become a sacrifice of whatever being they worshipped. His head banged against the doorframe of the Purple Lantern Tavern. The lighting was much different from the outside; one could swear it was merely a stormy night anywhere else in Chaon from within such a place, the mildly echoing sound of rain. The three beings who had taken him were the toughest in the group he fought against, but they were not without signs of the struggle, each with either a noticeable bruise or cut from the Paladin’s mace. They sat at a table, joking by the looks of their smile and the sound of what in Bach’s opinion was little more than a demented laughter. One of them looked to their captured being who was clamoring to his feet without the aid of his arms and pulled on the rope restricting his movement and assisted him. “Go away, now.” The evil being said, tossing the mace away from the table onto an empty section of the floor. The Paladin struck a quick and powerful kick to the being’s jaw, knocking it from it’s chair and onto the floor before being kicked to the ground in return by one of the dark-souled being’s allies. He was outnumbered, he knew that would be the case while within the black City of Lanterns, but his goal remained, even as he once again hit the ground. |
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6:49 PM Feb 11
