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Roleplay The Haven (RP)

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-  Iseult Mylis - Tumula Village -

Iselt was looking around her own team mates and the rakshasas, the one captured by the skeleton summon was thrown a sizable distance but, somehow, he was still trying to stand up to continue fighting. Until someone ordered him to stop. Iseult turned to look at the source of this voice and, to her surprise, it was the same rakshasa who the spellcaster had transformed into. This must have been the real elder of the village.

"That is correct. Any information regarding the dragon's lair and about the dragon itself will be must helpful," Iseult said while looking at Chuloch, "but I agree that we should move to a more comfortable location, one in which our allies can have enough time to be healed."

The dark elf could still feel some tension coming from Chuloch, it was quite obvious that he was not happy with the current outcome and Iseult was going to keep an eye on him from the time being. The heat was slightly annoying, she being a being who thrived on the darkness, and so Iseult's misty cloak materialized around her body once more to cover her from the sun while they waited for the elder's answer.

Edited by Elrandir

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- Winona, with Ceres in the heart of Adamant -

Winona smiled back, a little more at ease upon receiving Ceres' expression.  She too was all set on things, but finding a charm on her home world would not only be a great memento, but also likely a good aid for her gravity-controlling powers.  First things come first, however.

"If that's the case, let's make that a side trip later and collect the reward now.  I'm sure the person who posted the reward would be delighted to know that this man will not frequent this glade again . . . alive, that is, but let's keep this life and death thing between us.  No need to scare the man prematurely."

Together, Winona led Ceres into the stone-crafted inn, peeling open a pair of dense fabric curtains which kept the wind at bay at the door.  The innkeeper glanced up from the bar table with multifaceted eyes similar to a fly, but still looking human, right down to the grimace he made when seeing new faces.  Winona had only frequented this place before as a child, but she did not need to be a local haunter if she had a flyer describing the reward location.

Thumping the unraveled flyer onto the bar table, Winona asked where the man who submitted it went.  The innkeeper chewed on his lip and asked for a moment before slipping up a rounded staircase, seemingly to fetch the man from his room.  The Havener Gravity Artisan glanced around at the alcohol menu in the meantime, attempting to pick her poison to numb the pain in her arm, but the innkeeper came down swiftly, along with a strange man with small eyes, a button nose, and thick horns above his tipped ears.  Winona's first instincts were to run the small-eyed man through with her sword.  Lifeblood Druids were not often welcome to the lands of the Gravity Artisans after a great war that broke out thirty years ago and ended only twenty years ago.  Her memories of them were clear and painted poorly, but her time in the Haven was not poorly spent as her sword arm drew away from her weapon.

"Thank you for meeting me.  Do you have information pertaining to this . . . strange individual?" pronounced the Lifeblood Druid in forceful, individual words.

"We do indeed.  He was seen talking to himself in threatening fashion, muttering about killing someone.  Men like him are more dangerous than the vagrants in the streets and roads, so after a series of questions and him attacking us, we whisked him away.  He should not be a problem anymore."

The Druid sniffed deeply, a trait common to his own kind in that it detected lies.  He felt satisfied with Winona's story, however, and offered payment up front.  Five hundred gold apiece, as well as 20% off coupons for, quite interestingly, a competitor to the store that had bone charms.  The prices seemed about right on some of the advertisements on the very bottom, written in magical ink that shifted and swirled this way and that on the card.

"Coupons?" Winona asked.

"Coupons," the other responded with a smile, starting to slip away to head up the stairs again.  "I own the store marked upon those coupons.  Come anytime you need something.  My assistant runs the shop even if I am here, and I think you will find it . . . useful."  The pause was momentary, almost nonexistant.  "Take care in your travels, Haveners."


- The Dragon Quest, Tumula Village -

The village elder looked down on everyone with solemn eyes.  It felt very odd to Pang for two reasons, one being that he was usually the tall one and because he fought someone with his shape not long ago, but he had to admit that there was something peaceful in this Rakshasa's gaze that the other one did not have.

"I know just the place:  my hut.  I think you will find it comfortable, and upon my honour nobody in this village or out will attack you on my watch.  Chuloch, come with me.  Your fated path will be decided with these travelers as witness."

Nodding for everyone to follow him in, the elder leaned over his crooked, ornate staff and shuffled toward a small hogan to the left of the entrance.  Chuloch followed nearby him, holding his ribs and grunting in pain with every step, his severed tendon not giving him much relief.

Packed mud dotted the hut's outside and inside, creating an insulated barrier from the hot suns outside, and the deep recess inside the house allowed for enough cold to provide comfort for all within it.  The furnishings within, including the steps down to the deeper part of the house, were not meant for those shorter than nine feet tall, and it would be impressive for anyone to keep up even with these lumbering giants.  Pang had a little bit of an easier time, whereas Hogarth grumbled at every massive step down.  His eyes returned to him through the door, which he reset back inside his sockets.

Eventually all was settled, and the elder looked back upon his company.

"This dragon you speak of is . . . a difficult beast.  Long has it overlooked our village, as depicted on several wall paintings, but lately it has refused everyone who dares approach its peak.  We gave shrine offerings as gifts, but it turned us all back with fire and scorching heat.  Eventually the landscape turned to what it looks like now, and we hunt in our homelands on the last vestiges of nature before we will have to move somewhere else.  It shames me that we have to leave our home under such a situation, but we cannot move the dragon from its perch . . . not alone, anyways.  Many tried, but none prevailed.  Are you thinking of slaying the dragon?"

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