Tide of Shadows

[Charon]

As Garxon began to sing, Eight had remained stoic. Listening carefully to his surroundings as he always did. But by the second verse the construct's mood seemed to change, more accepting of the singing.

By the third verse, the deep clear rumble of Eight's voice joined with the voices of the tribals, the fires of war clearly burning in the glow of the construct's blue eyes.

[rhoenix]

He couldn't help it.

Garxon's singing reminded Fehl of some of the more exciting fights he's had against the more challenging opponents, the games of cat and mouse, the battles of wits - and he began to sing as well. After all, he'd been trained to fight as a soldier - there were many ditties he'd heard.

[Rogue 9]

"I understand, Father," Bartel said with a nod. He tucked his helmet under his arm and planted his crumpled hat atop his head. The cleric adjusted his tabard, bearing the ruby-studded starburst of the Saint, and walked out the temple door as he clasped his cloak over it all, the huddled refugees watching his every move until he was out of sight. The well-oiled armor scraped softly as he strode down the street, not needing to ask directions, as it was obvious where this Garxon was.

It wasn't long before he reached the cordon surrounding the tavern. "Captain," he said, addressing the obvious leader of the guard.

[Academia Nut]

Outside the tavern, the guards trying to prevent a riot quaked in their armour and boots. Garxon's song was an old one amongst the barbarians, the one they sang whenever Eastwing sent a force into the wastes, the one that made the bastards fight all the harder. To the people of Ashvale, it was a dread song, one that said that the barbarians refused to just go off and die.

The fact that they often sang it with draconic air support did not make it any less scary. The reds seemed to enjoy the line about asking how many they could make die in particular, and they certainly did not want anyone getting near their hoards.

To those arriving outside with no connection to Ashvale and its ancient troubles, it was an interesting thing to witness, how dozens of voices were singing along in accompaniment with one beautiful and intensely powerful one and the adverse effect it was having on the morale of the locals.

Inside the tavern, once Garxon had finished singing, he took a bow and then hopped off the table, asking, "Okay, now I know I heard a particularly... what's the word? Ah yes, a particularly structured voice. Who... who... you!" Garxon then pointed a clawed hand at Eight and said, "Yes... you. You can sing. Not very well, but you have a... hmmm... a power to your voice, yes a power. Very... how was it? Very peculiar. I kind of liked it."

Garxon snatched up a mug of ale off a passing tray and said, "I would offer you a beer for the effort, but it looks like you don't need it!" Garxon then tilted back the mug, drinking about only a quarter of the contents and spilling the rest. He then casually tossed the mug aside, causing it to break. Reaching into the coin purse at his belt, he removed a silver and tossed it across the bar, saying, "Sorry about that old chap, but a nicer one next time."

Turning back to the crowd, he said, "Come now people, you shouldn't need me to party! We have comely lasses in need of broad shouldered lads to show them a good time." He then turned to one of the serving girls, the one the bartender had told to cover up a little more and said, "Except for you, you look like you need three or four guys to have a good time. Give me a call if you come up short."

Laughing, Garxon then leapt back into the fray, this time while chanting what sounded like another timing chant for the operation of a trebuchet.

[Academia Nut]

Turning almost with a jump at the unexpected voice, the captain of the guard took one look at Bartel and said, "Oh thank the Saint you are here good father! I had heard that there was a travelling priest in town from my men. I do not know if you wish to actually go in there, but just the sight of you does my men good. I have the tavern cordoned off if the bastard tries to spill his 'party' out onto the streets or if he decides he needs more fire, but so far I don't think he's done anything illegal yet."

There was a loud crash followed by an appreciative roar, causing the captain to wince and say, "Except for destruction of the tavern's property, but he always pays fair or more than fair restitution, usually beforehand. So what do you want to do father? We're under orders not to go in there, but we'll back you up as best we can."

[Rogue 9]

"I think I feel like going for a drink," Bartel said darkly. "Keep to your orders. I'll not start trouble, but if it breaks out I'm sure you'll know it quickly enough." He pulled the ample hood of his traveling cloak over his head and hat and walked in the front door of the tavern to behold the utter scene created by the barbarian. He brought the initiators of spells to the forefront of his mind, but did not utter them, instead attempting to find a table against the wall where he could sit facing the room.

[Academia Nut]

There was a relatively empty, intact, and unsinged table along the far wall of the tavern, away from the entrance and between the bar and the fireplace. The din of half drunk and all drunk tribals singing bawdy songs drowned out the clatter and clank of Bartel's armour.

After a time, one of the tiefling barmaids, sloshed off her gourd with wine, stumbled over and flopped down on the table Bartel was sitting at, staring up at him drunkenly. Hiccuping, she said, "Hey there... whatsh you doing over here... over here... being all... *hic* all dark and myshterioush? Garxon... he... he... *hic* already shlayed... shlay... or wash it laid the dragon? *Hic* Drinksh are on him though... and," the tiefling then looked about in confusion for a moment before she said, "Hey... where'd my drink go? *Hic* But... if I could find my drink... it would be on me too!" She then pantomimed dumping something over her chest. "And you... mishter frowny fashe, you could lick it allllll up? Wouldn't *hic* wouldn't that be fun?"

[Rogue 9]

Bartel resisted the urge to berate her for her intemperance, knowing it would do no good and could probably do much harm if Garxon took notice. Instead, he forced a smile. "It might, but I have other business tonight," he said softly. "Be a dear and get me a good dark ale, would you?" He was betting that she was too drunk to successfully pull it off, and attempting to get rid of her. He idly wondered what a good dose of holy light would do to one of such otherworldly blood, but quickly shoved the thought out of his mind. She'd done nothing to deserve it, and besides, from the looks of this Garxon he might have a more appropriate subject to answer that question with if things got out of hand. Cuthbert's teachings held that common sense, honestly, and an honest day's work were the highest virtues, and those were in scant evidence here. It rankled him, but there was naught to do but ensure the safety of the citizens outside.

[Academia Nut]

"Dark ale... *hic* one coming right up!" The barmaid said before she rolled off the table and into one of the chairs, causing it to break with a loud crash. At that point she did bring an ale, or twelve as the case might be, up. The scene was enough to attract some of the more sober members of the party to haul her away, and to attract Garxon's attention.

Walking up, he looked around, made a decision, pulled up a chair and sat down across from Bartel, a broad grin across his face. Putting his feet up on the table and leaning back, Garxon said, "I can see in the dark you know, its really handy. Thus the crazed shadows of this place don't hide your features all that well from me and you have that... how to put it... you have that air about you of someone who disproves of this sort of thing."

Some of the revellers noticed Garxon sitting down and went over, but Garxon waved them off, saying, "This is my fun right here, you have yours, I'll be with you shortly."

[rhoenix]

After the singing stopped, Fehl sighed. Things were explained now, and he even sang an old tune again. "Well, that was fun," he said to Eight, "but I have more...rewarding things awaiting me. I'll see you in the morning," he said, turning to walk to go back to his room for the night, and Hekka.

[Rogue 9]

"I'm afraid I'm not the best company tonight," Bartel answered in the most nonchalant tone he could muster, leaning back himself and letting the cloak fall away from his tabard. "It's been a trying day, and I just want an ale." He forced a chuckle. "Seems she's had enough."

[Academia Nut]

Garxon snapped his clawed fingers and said to no one in particular, "Get the good priest an ale, I want to make sure his tongue is sufficiently moist for this."

Taking his feet off the table, Garxon leaned forward and said, "Do you know what my favourite thing in the whole wide world, in the whole multiverse is? I bet its so easy in fact to guess that you don't need to say anything at all. I like breaking things. Breaking soldiers, breaking armies, breaking fortresses, breaking nations, breaking rules, breaking customs, breaking mores, breaking anything. I love it, there's nothing finer in the whole world than pitting myself against the strengths of something else and seeing which one of us is the greater. Sometimes I win, sometimes I lose. Considering that I'm still here, you can see that I lose far less than I win, and I've never lost when it really counts. And each time I do lose, I see where my own faults lie, and sometimes I fix them, to make me stronger. It's why I do what I do. So here I see you sitting there, all... what's the phrase... disapproving of me and my fun, and now I want to play all the more. I want to annoy you, to anger you, to make you, who disaproves so strongly of me and what I do, I want you to strike out at me. Go ahead, get pissed off, and start a fight. It'll be fun.

"So do you want to play my little game? I assure you that if you don't, you still will be, it'll just be easier for me to... hmmm... how to put it... easier to aggravate you in the extreme. Yes, that sounds right."

[Rogue 9]

"So you want to break my will, in short," Bartel answered with a grim smile. "You're too full of yourself. I don't give a damn about you. In fact, I'd never even heard of you until you showed up today. If you want me to simply attack you, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint. I just don't care enough." He reached up and took his ale from the waitress who'd gone to fetch it.

[Charon]

When Garxon had addressed him, it had been almost apparent that if the construct could have grinned he would have. "And it's been years since I heard that chant. It brings back memories of some good jobs. I am Eight, a sword-for-hire."

When the cleric came in. It was quite apparent that he stuck out more than the seven foot construct. Eight watched him carefully, since if there was going to be any real trouble it was likely to come because he was here, and when Garxon moved in Eight only shook his head. This was no doubt going to be an interesting night.

[Academia Nut]

Garxon giggled and said, "You see what I mean? You think that I care that you care... wait... no, that's not right, I do care that you care, just not in the way you think that I care and... resetting where I was. Ahem, you think that this is personal. I don't care if you know who I am. I've played this game with lots of people who don't know who I am, or at least didn't until I started bugging them, and frankly it doesn't matter to me if they remembered my face afterward, although you must admit my... ah... profile is very distinctive.

"No, you see, the game is to break your will, as you said. And the more you resist, the more fun it becomes. This isn't about you, its about me and what I want. I've been called an extraordinarily self-centred and selfish individual, but I honestly don't know what those peons are talking about," Garxon then broke out laughing at that. "But anyway, the challenge here is in finding out what makes you mad. What breaks down the trappings of 'civilization' you clothe yourself in and releases the animal within. You know, when I was born, I was pretty much a regular human in my village. More regular than most. But there's something within me, something that comes out a little bit more each day. And look at what it's got me. So I pit my unbound beast against your ability to control your beast, and we will see which of us has taken the stronger path."

Garxon then chuckled darkly and said, "I must say though, you aren't the first holy man of Cutheebert I've played this game with, and the last guy was no where near strong enough. Would you like to see what I took off him?"

[Rogue 9]

"No, I don't care whether you care or not. I'm stating a fact, not trying to impress you," he said with a steely glint in his eye. If he had killed a priest of the Saint and was about to start flashing around trophies, he was going to find Bartel's button very quickly, but it probably wouldn't be the reaction he expected.

[Academia Nut]

"Ah yes, but the facts can be very grating no? Yes, I used this sort of strategy the last time I was here. There was this little skinny man who came in here and asked for water, at which point I knew I had to play my little game with him. What was it that I said to him again... ah yes. I said something along the lines of 'My god, Garyx, destroys everything in his path, while your god just takes retribution, so obviously my god would win in a fight because he would act first'. Not a very compelling theological argument I would say, but it seemed to push his last button. So he punched me! I then put his head through a table and took this little trinket from him as my prize," Garxon said, hooking a clawed finger around a small amulet around his neck, the centre piece being a simple piece of alabaster surrounding a small polished ruby.

[Rogue 9]

"That doesn't ring especially true," Bartel answered, peering at the amulet. "Coming in here to order water? You need a better story." He took a pull from his ale and looked across the table at the barbarian, a purposely bored look on his face, though inside he was seething. It looked like a Cuthbertine piece, but it wasn't a holy symbol and he couldn't prove anything.

[Academia Nut]

Garxon grinned and said, "Hmmm... yes, it does sound convenient, although upon reflection I do believe that that holy man was attempting to start a fight, he just didn't want to look like it. Ordering water in a place like this?" Garxon snorted, a tiny curl of flame and smoke erupting from his nostrils from the act, and he said, "Of course, I'm not all that attentive to those sorts of things, I often have to... ah... consider them. I just noticed that he had your sort of attitude, of 'I'm in the middle of a party and I'm going to sit here by myself as if I were oblivious to the... uh, what's the word... implications, yes implications such an act would have.' You can say whatever you want, but you're wearing full plate armour under that cloak, which is nowhere near as comfortable and stylish as my armour. It's mithril. Made by dwarves, wanna see the makers stamp that proves its authentic?"

Garxon paused for a moment before scratching at his scaly face and asking, "Where was I going with that trail of thought again... ah yes. I sleep in my armour half the time, it's really well made and light and comfortable, and stains just wash right off it so nicely, except for in the patterns and... wait... nevermind. The point is that unlike me, you're not wearing travelling gear, so you had to have walked in here expecting a fight. Just like that holy man. And then, when I come up and pester you for a fight, I'm the bad guy. That little guy sure knew how to fight though."

Leaning forward, Garxon said, "But if my little trinket wasn't enough to get you mad, then look me in the face and tell me what you see."

[DC 17 Will save or be fascinated with Garxon for as long as he remains within line of sight]

[Rogue 9]

"I see an arrogant lout who like as not traffics with demons, if he was indeed a man in the first place," Bartel answered as his mind shook off the enchantment with almost contemptuous ease. "As for your supposed theological conundrum, retribution always comes second, but it doesn't always come right away and isn't always for the one taking it. You'd do well to remember that," he said darkly.

[LadyTevar]

The paladin dismounted in front of the Spanked Tieflling Inn, the party inside roaring at full blast. "Volemack, take Hurin to the stable and look after him," she ordered.

"But...!"
"NOW, Volemack. What did I teach you?"
The human-shaped dragon pouted, sulking. "Feed the animals before yourself."
"And?"
Another sulky sigh. "I'm the squire, that's my duty."

Ceridwen ruffled his hair. "Do it right the first time and I won't send you back to do it again this time." She gave the young dragonling the reins and sent him off to the stable, removing her weapon and shield first. It will take the young dragon a while to properly care for the horse and gear.

Ceridwen herself faced the front door of the noisy, boisterous inn and walked forward. She knew withthis many tieflings, her mere presence would cause a commotion, but she had a plan for dealing with the instigator.

Walking in, her shield on her back, her holy aura announcing what she was, she paused to look around the tap-room. Bar, various drunk and disorderly beings, a large bag of coins in the floor. A golem in the corner? Hmmm.... And in another corner, a black & red scaled giant with his back to the room, seemingly talking to someone.

"Innkeep! An ale, and a room for the night, if you will," she called out, her voice carrying well across the din.

[Rogue 9]

Bartel looked up and past Garxon at the woman who'd entered as he finished speaking his veiled threat. Hmmm. Clergy of Bahamut, and a paladin by the looks of her gear. This would be... interesting.

But he wasn't done. He looked back down at Garxon after his short glance to the door and continued. "And here I thought you were supposed to be the toughest barbarian in the wastes. You know, they said you drank whole casks of ale, not dumped them on the floor. Tell me, do you slay dragons the same way you drink your beer?" He laughed openly.

[Academia Nut]

Everyone looked over at Ceridwen. They noticed the sudden on edge feeling the tieflings had. They noticed what she was wearing. They noticed the sudden look of glee that crossed over Garxon's face.

A slight whimper went up from the tavern patrons and the bartender began sobbing.

Garxon turned back to Bartel and said, "You know what? You win this game. I must say that you were not as easily pissed off as I had hoped, and really, how can I defend myself from such barbs? But to answer your question, I do slay dragons like I drink beer: I spill them all over the floor. However, I'm pretty damn sure that there's a bonafide paladin of Bahamut. Do you have any idea how fun those guys are to wind up? Do you? So good job priest, I'm a gonna go see if she'll be more fun to play with."

Getting up, Garxon sauntered over to where Ceridwen was and said, "How you doing?"

[DC 17 Will save or be fascinated with Garxon for as long as he remains within line of sight]

1d20 = 1259518083 = Fixed

[LadyTevar]

Ceridwen looked the being over. Teifling, check. Half-Dragon? Red Dragon, it seemed.. that drew a small twist of her lip. Barbarian, check the clothing and scent of ale over him. Also the way he was obviously trying to pick her up. Compared to his black and red, she was silver and blue; silvery-blond hair, sapphire blue eyes, blue cloak, well-polished mail.

She dropped her eyes to her gloves and removed them as she spoke, her voice naturally cultured, showing her noble station. "The road was far too long and wet to travel comfortably, and when I arrive I'm warned that the only open inn in town has been taken over by a barbarian madman." She looked back up, meeting his eyes with her own as the signet ring of House SilverStar was revealed upon her hand. "I would prefer to drink and eat in peace."

It could be taken as a threat, if one was inclined; a warning that she was not wanting trouble, but would finish it. As yet, she was not taking offense, but judging the foe.

[Rogue 9]

Bartel glowered at the barbarian's retreating back, considering what sort of force it might take to take him down. There was no question of allowing him to simply assault the paladin if he succeeded in getting her to retaliate, of course. He clasped his cudgel and remained keenly aware of the mace hanging from his belt as he took another sip from the ale. If he could help it, he'd nurse the one drink until he was through here. The last thing he needed was intoxication on this sort of task.