Brave World

Joeyray's Bar
"In the middle of the town," the soldier replies.
Nodding in thanks, Caron sprints towards the town, jumping over fallen obstacles and dodging arrows being shot in an effort to help thin enemy numbers. The center of town wasn't that long of a run normally, but right now, it felt like forever. Every step seemed to move in slow motion, every breath and every movement. When the town center finally came into view, he could see Ron fighting the mage, and not doing well.
The town hall is burning and cries can be heard despite the great roar of the fire. A fireball connects with Ron's shield. The shield is unable to withstand repeated fireballs and breaks. Ron is hit with the remainder of the spell. Yelling in pain, he staggers backward into a pile of debris. Right above him, the ridge of the roof catches on fire.

The mage is about to incinerate Ron's body but notices Caron running and coming to a stop. The mage looks around. They were alone. The sound of fighting begins to die down but the cries continue emanate from the town hall. The mage creates a small spark of fire in his hands.

"You're alive. I see Loran and Garath couldn't stop you. A pity it is."

He throws the small spark on the debris. It lights ups and a small fire appears extremely close to Ron.

The mage readies a battle staff, "How strong is your resolve?"
A magic blade brushes the mage's cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. "My resolve is firm, murderer." Placing his sabers to either side of him, he rushes forward and leaps into the air, flipping over the mage and slashing at his back. "This is for the men, women and children you've killed here!"
OOC: It looks like your wish has come true. Caron has to choose between a bad choice and a bad choice.

The mage gets on his knees, "You've made your resolve...heh...pity I had no magic left. But I wonder what's left of your men and the children inside? You've wasted your precious seconds. Your punishment begins now..."

"..."

Fire on the town hall: 16
Fire on Ron: 16

The town hall roof collapses and the smoke rises ever high. The cries begin to waver.

Ron's body has caught fire.

The noise of the fighting has subsided but all Caron hears is the roaring of the flames around him.
"No!" Scrambling for a solution quickly, he blasts the burning ruins with magic swords while desperately trying to put out Ron, who was not even awake for his unfortunate funeral pyre. "No, nonononononononon NO!" The blades were doing nothing against the burning wood and Ron wouldn't wake up, nor would his flame go out. "NO!" The rest of the hall collapses as Ron's body turns to ash, leaving a distraught Caron to fall to the ground and cry, pounding his fist futilely against the ground and begging for some way to help save the people who might still be alive.

OOC: For those who missed the memo, Caron isn't much of an elemental magic guy.
A wall of the town hall collapses. Caron can hear faint cries within.
04/16/2014 08:20 AMPosted by Animus
@Warhawk

The drawbridge closes just as the traveler comes into sight with it. It is likely all the other exits to the cities are closed off too.

OOC: Find another way out of the city. Security inside the walls will increase. They will search for the weapons used to kill the Lord once they've identified what caused the wound.


OOC:
The only thing they'll be able to confirm is that a bow of some kind was used, and the arrow tip was coated in fireweed acid.

IC:
Traveling unnoticed through the city, the traveler stops at an inn near the walls and books a room for the night. Taking a meal up to his room, the traveler secures the door, eats and rests, awaiting nightfall.

- - -

The 'guard' shakes his head as looks out over the street scene one last time before making his way down to the street level. Striding purposefully through the city, he makes his to the guest wing of the mayor's estate.
Stepping past the room of the belated lord Malrend, he walks over to a group of lords and ladies, his eyes set on familiar well dressed figure whose carefully tailored clothing was slowly loosing the battle of hiding his ever-growing paunch.

"...Its a terrible business, this. I wonder what he'd gotten mixed up to warrant an assassin?"
the 'guard' overhears the lord say to the rest of the group as he steps up to his side;

"Lord Vacasta. Sargent Halbor. May I have a word?"
He says to Vacasta, giving him a slight bow of respect;

"Certainly. M'lord's and ladies, if you'll excuse me for a moment."
Lord Vacasta replies following the guard down the hall and around a corner; out of sight.

As they make their way around the corner, Lord Vacasta pulls a small device out of the folds of his clothes. Clicking it on, a small field of silence is generated around him and the 'guard', preventing anyone from prying in on their conversation;

"Well? What happened?"
Vacasta demands;

"I lost track of him, but the guards couldn't catch him either. And whoever he is, he's a mage of some level or another."

"A mage eh?... theres certainly more to this fellow than what meets the eye..."
Lord Vacasta muses for a moment before properly replying;
"Very well. Dispatch the team to the inn where we met, along with the negotiator. let's see if we can't recruit him... but if he's not interested, tell them to make it look like an accident. Good work Garath."
Vacasta says, nodding to the other man before shutting the device off and heading back out to the main hallway, Garath disappearing into the shadowy side passages of the place.
@Warhawk

The coroner places the arrowhead on a bow and washes it with a grey substance. The bolt turns brown and the coroner notes this at a parchment set besides him. He observes the pungent browning of the lord's body around the bolt wound and shook his head. What would warrant the death of such a good man? There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," the coroner says gravely, "Oh! If it isn't the inspector? I take it you want to know what I found?"

The inspector, a man with greasy black hair, nods as he makes his way to the body. The coroner points to the discoloration on the skin first.

"The cause of death is the bolt coated with fireweed acid. The poison leaves well, what see on the body. The wound itself wasn't deadly and it could have been removed safely. However, it was the poison that dealt the final blow. A painful death for the lord."

"Fireweed? That isn't native to this area is it?" asks the inspector.

"No, it is not. They grow in the wetlands," the coroner replied. "Do you have any idea of who the assassin may be?"

The inspector takes out a notepad. "From what I could gather from the guards several of them have encountered a person of interest. Hooded figure with a long cloak, a man judging by his build. He appears to have used some sort of air magic. They couldn't get a good look of his face surprisingly. You'd think 14 guards will see something. In any case several bystanders came up and swore by the gods that they saw a figure flying through the air at the streets. Probably the same person."

He holds up a piece of parchment, revealing a sketch. "This is what we've got. Nailed down the clothing to the last detail. Unfortunately, we don't have a clear view of the face. If this guy is any bit smart, he'd ditch the clothes and settle for something less outstanding. It'd be impossible to find him if so short of blind luck."

"So what are you doing now?" asks the coroner.

"Sending every available man to the inns and scour the less reputable districts. I've already have these sketches circulating amongst the guards and posting them around the city. If he reveals his magic, that's our assassin. In the meantime, I hope to find out the motive for this tragedy. The King will be devastated at this news..."
======
Guards, in groups of threes and fours, are making their rounds around the city at night. Criers have delivered the news that curfew has been established; anyone not part of the investigation caught outside during the night is considered to be a potential suspect and will be arrested. The streets of the city is silent except for the heavy footsteps of the guards. A disquieting atmosphere has befallen the city.
IC:
Watching the guards patrol the streets, the traveler considers the situation for a moment before springing into action. With a few quick tugs, he releases the clasps on his cloak and bracers, bundling them up together with his boltshot. Briskly getting undressed, the traveler hides anything that would incriminate him as the assassin in or under the cloak before activating its powers of obscurity, hiding it from searching eyes. Throwing on a nightgown, he climbs into bed and extinguishes the lights.
OOC:
Bump.

Are we letting this die?
No. However, it is finals week and I am going oversees for at least a month shortly afterwards (the internet is iffy at best) so this RP will likely be in the back seat until mid-late June.

I also have this grievous long scratch on my right hand that makes typing not fun.
OOC:
K.

I'll be ready (I hope) to pick this back up when you can as well.
Several guards enter an inn. The solemn atmosphere sours considerably as the guards begin to fan out through the lobby area. One of them post the face of the potential killer on one of the bulletin board.

"I am sorry to disturb you all tonight but we must conduct this investigation. If anyone has seen this man as pictured here, come forward please. We will greatly appreciate your cooperation," a guard explains.

He gives a hand signal, "Fan out! Arrest anyone who resists a search. Ensure that the guest rooms are also throughly combed."

OOC: I will assume that your character entered the room with his old clothes on. Someone may have seen him. Make what you want with the guards. Do you have a DA?
OOC:
That he did, but he had his cloak active when he did, so no one noticed him or can remember what he was wearing. And no, I don't have a DA.
05/11/2014 11:13 PMPosted by Warhawk
no, I don't have a DA.


As many times as we've told him to get one...
05/11/2014 11:13 PMPosted by Warhawk
OOC:
That he did, but he had his cloak active when he did, so no one noticed him or can remember what he was wearing. And no, I don't have a DA.


Good for you..

IC:

"Innkeeper, I trust you are a respectable man. Do you keep a log of all the guest here?"

"Yes, yes, yes, But why would you need it?"

"Isn't it obvious? We have to see if the guests matches the log history. I'll borrow this for the time being."

The guard grabs one of his men and whispers to his ear, "Block the exits. We'll search the rooms one by one."
IC:
Blinking blearily as the guards unlock his door and step in, the traveler sits up in bed, shading his eyes against the light of their torches;
"What!... Oh, excuse me sirs.. May I ask what the city guard are doing with the keys to my room?"
He asks, calming down from an indignant tone.
04/16/2014 08:40 PMPosted by Animus
A wall of the town hall collapses. Caron can hear faint cries within.


Hearing the cries for help through the collapsed wall, Caron can feel a glimmer of hope return and runs into the gap, coughing as he moved in deeper. "Hello?! It's Caron! Where are you?!"

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