Chapter 2: First Steps

Silvertongued

Silvertongued

Yes, this is dog
Your lungs burn. Your legs ache. Each breath is too shallow, regardless of how deep it is.


You've run so long now, away from that thing. Stalking you, hunting you, calling your name mockingly. Even now, you can still see its three hollow sockets following you, that needle filled mouth dripping black.


But it's okay. You managed to get what's important. A warm hand holds your own, and you look back at her.


She stares at you with those three empty eyes, leering at you through mangled teeth.


"Why?"


You bolt upright, drenched in sweat. Your heart flutters in your chest, tightening with every pulse. Nausea swirls in your stomach, and your hands tremble as they clutch the moist bedsheets.


Sunlight streams in the window, along with a chorus of birdsong. Your room is the same as it always is. You could almost believe you've woken long strange nightmare, but you knew it wasn't. Too much was wrong. Where you were used to the sounds of commotion downstairs, or the clatter of work outside, there was only silence. No smells of breakfast wafting up from the kitchen. Only the sickly sweet scent of rot. Most of all, a dark pendant swings from your neck, weighty with the feel of death.


"I brought you up here after-... afterwards," says the voice, whispering in your ear. "You weren't responding, so I took care of your body while you..."


It trails off. You rub your eyes, the flesh sore and puffy beneath your hands.


"...where-" you start, only to be cut off.


"I don't know. She disappeared into the tunnels, and I did not follow her. It's likely that she's still down there, lost. There are few exits, and the warren runs for miles beneath the town,"


"We should-"


Again, an interruption. This time, the voice is firm. Hard.


"No. Not now. Not yet,"


"Why not?" you snap petulantly, even as you suspect the answer.


"She is confused, scared, and delusional. Most of all, she is strong, far more so than her body should rightfully be capable of. We, on the other hand, are small, weak, and ignorant of what she is. Even the best case scenario will end with us destroying her in body and soul,"


There's no response on your part. You simply ball your little hands into fists.


"We must wait. Not for her, but for you. You must learn, and grow, and build,"


Slowly, your hands go slack as you realise that she's right. Not that you enjoy admitting it, but this happened because you were stupid. Because you were young. Because you didn't understand.


"So what should I do then?" you say eventually.


"Personally, I'd say we should clean this place up. No no, not like that. We have plenty of bodies around to clean it for us. Makes them useful, and also prevents the town from falling apart,"


"Either that, or I could start your training immediately. As I said, your strength as a Magi is laughable. It's in need of both improvement and instruction,"


Your stomach gurgles loudy.


"After breakfast of course,"


OPTIONS:

  1. Clean up the town.
  2. Start your training
  3. Go for a walk.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
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"Breakfast," you say, before adding. "Then training,"


You're running out of bread. Not that you don't have enough, but the loaves left are growing hard and moldy. The cheese and the ham seem fine though, but it's getting tedious just eating the same thing for every meal.


"So how do I train?" you ask after the meal.


"Go outside. Find something living,"


OPTIONS:

  1. Go to the chicken house.
  2. Go to the big tree near the church.
  3. Go to the stable.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
You head to the big oak tree, near the church. It was always full of life. Birds, bugs, sometimes you even see a squirrel.


"Alright. I want you to close your eyes Lucy," orders the voice. You do so.


"Now, concentrate on your power inside of you,"


You're not quite sure how to do that, and you say as much.


"Like... this,"


Within you, but stemming fom the pendant, you feel a cold pulse. A weight pushing against, not you, but the place. It's almost like being able to tell where something is by hearing it, but not... quite. Carefully, you pull that extension from within yourself. Condensing it, you try to imitate the feeling before. A cold weight, pressing down on everything around it.


"Good Lucy, good. Now, imagine it spreading out. Not getting bigger exactly, but larger, yet less dense. Imagine it encompassing the entire tree,"


You frown, despite yourself.


OPTIONS:

  1. Do it.
  2. Don't do it.
  3. Ask why.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
"Why?"


You feel a pang of pride, of approval emanating from the pendant.


"To show you that your abilities can sense more than simply ghosts. It can "feel" both life and death. You will understand more once you experience it," explains the voice carefully.


Slowly, you push on your power, pulling it out of yourself. It takes effort, proper concentration to do what the voice asks. Stretching the power roughly only squahed it, making it dense and heavy, like gathering a garment into a ball. Being too tender with it and the edges shrank when you took your attention from them, slowly withdrawing back into yourself. Eventually, you manage to push it to a size large enough to encompas the tree, though keeping it in such a large shape was weirdly tiring, both physically and mentally.


With cautious effort, you let it envelope the tree. Even as you push it forward, you start to comprehend what the voice was trying to teach you. The birds, they were like spiralling whirlpools against your power, islands of light and warmth. They stood out against that extension of yourself in the same way a far off lantern stood out from the night.


"You understand now, don't you?" intones the voice.


You nod silently, still focusing on keeping your power extended, in shape.


OPTIONS:

  1. Examine the birds.
  2. Interact with the birds.
  3. Examine the tree as a whole.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
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Carefully, you focus on the tree.


Gradually, as you turn your focus further, you can sense other things. Smaller things. Beetles, ants, bugs, all tiny speckles against the backdrop of your power. Countless numbers of them teem all over the tree, inside it, around it, each almost too small to notice. Even were they massed together, you don't think you could sense them unless you were specifically looking for them. They're just so small. Not just in size, but... life. There's so very little in each as compared to the birds.


You focus even further, to the point where you think you can sense the life of the tree itself. You're not sure. It's a slow, dull thing, like tracking the movement of clouds across the sky. Every hint could be truth, or just your imagination.


OPTIONS:

  1. Interact with the bugs.
  2. Interact with the birds.
  3. Talk to the voice.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
"It's... I can sorta... hear- feel? Feel everything that's alive," you explain carefully, eyes still screwed tightly shut.


"As you should. You can sense the life in things, and how much. Were there... more complex lives here, you would no doubt be able to sense their souls, but unfortunately, this is all we have for the moment. Still, they're cceptible teaching materials for the moment," laments the voice.


"But yes, you can sense how much life is within something. You can also roughly tell when they're going to die, though less predicition of their deathstroke, and more measuring the lifeforce they have left. An ant may live for several more months with the life it has left, but a boot will cut that short regardless," it explains.


"...okay,"


"What you are not seeing here, is that death is a counterpoint. As you can sense life, so too can you sense death, and materials that resonate with it. Our power is power over death, and its materials. As such, you can see all of this, because it is resonant with death, in a way,"


"Like this,"


You feel the voice use its power, extending it forth. It's colder, darker, more solid than your own, a limb of pool with no bottom or the blackness between the stars. Reaching out towards the tree, it touches on one of the birds. The motion is tender, caressing the light within the creature. Then, subtly, it snuffs it out. All of that light, that warmth, it inverts, plunging through your senses, ringing out in that cold, hard feeling.


The bird drops to the ground.


OPTIONS:

  1. Mimic the motion.
  2. Interact with the body.
  3. Continue talking to the voice.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
The bird feels more solid, more real to your power now. Whereas before, it was merely a warm light pushing through your perceptions, now it is a dark recess. It is empty, yes, but its depths are intricate, even delicate. You feel as though you can fit your power inside easily.


"Go on child. No harm will come of it," replies the voice, as if it can tell what you are thinking. Considering the level of intimacy that the two of you have been sharing recently, that thought may not be too far off from the truth.


Slipping your power inside isn't difficult. If anything, it's akin to pushing your hand into a bag of flour. Everything is not only accomodating, it's almost actively shaping itself to you. You try to stretch within, to test the limits of how far you can move, and the bird flutters. You squeak in surprise at the sensation.


"It moved... is it...?" you exclaim.


"It has no life of it's own Lucy, nor have you granted it a semblance of it. You are merely moving it with the strength of your own will. It's no different than puppeting the creature with your hands, though it is markedly more elegant,"


OPTIONS:

  1. Mimic the motion from before.
  2. Attempt more complex movements.
  3. Continue talking to the voice.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
"So if anything is dead, I can make it move?" you inquire, letting your power settle inside the corpse.


"Within reason, yes," answers the voice. "As it is, that is how you opened the door in the cellar. A construct of bone and lead is primed to push the flagstone up, and stop anone who wasn't myself from going down. Served well enough that no one ever found it,"


You ponder this for some moments, observing the sea of life swirl within the darkness of your power, eyes closed all the while. A thought comes to mind.


"Do animals have souls?"


"In a manner of speaking. Not souls as people do, but many leave echoes of their lives in their wake once they pass," it explains.


"So... did the bird have one?"


"It did,"


You shift your lower body, a pain beginning to form in your backside. Sitting cross legged on cold dirt for so long was beginning to ache.


"What happened to it?"


Within you power, the voice's power intrudes, and in its grip something blossoms. It shines darkly, giving off a chill as it flares in your perception. Jarring against the other sparkles, it was like them, but inverted. Frost to warmth, shadow to light, malleable to their rigidity. You sense it flare for mere moments, and it vanishes once again into the voice's grasp.


"Messing with the spectral is a lesson for another day child. For now, content yourself with the basics of observing life and death,"


OPTIONS:

  1. Practice (Timeskip 2-3 hours).
  2. Ask why.
  3. Get up and go inside.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
"Why?" is your simple request.


The voice chuckles.


"An inquisitive nature is good, but one should first learn to walk before they run, else-..."


The thought of Mama invades your mind, and your power faulters. It takes some effort, but you manage to force the memory away. The voice says nothing, but a sense of guilt squats just outside of your own feelings.


"The spectral is considerably more complicated than the body," it continues, subdued and without mirth. "It is something that requires much thought and experience before it is tampered with, as you are not playing with the fragments of a body, you are manipulating the sum of what a creature is. It is not a step that is taken without due dilligence nor reverence,"


No. Not again, you think to yourself.


You practice with your power for the next few hours. Observing the world through your power, moving the tiny corpse of the bird with growing ease, even navigating around blind for some time. Granted, you did fall several times, tripping over rocks that you couldn't sense, but overall, it was enlightening. Moreso than that, you didn't feel guilty or unusual because of how you were different, at least for a little while.


It's as you're heading back to the house that you hear... something in the distance, outside of the village.


OPTIONS:

  1. Go check it out.
  2. Hide.
  3. Frantically try and clean up.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
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Your brows knit as you try and process the sound.


"...Lucy?" says the voice, with a note of concern.


"I gotta make sure the place is clean!" you chime, scrambling inside.


"I- what?"


"'Could be guests!" you explain, dashing through the inn. So much to do. The lamps need lit, the fire started, the kitchen cleaned, though for the moment-


"I don't understand," the voice stumbles, confusion twitching on the outsides of your perspective. "What do-"


"Inn's gotta be ready for guests! Else where're they gonna stay?" you babble excitedly, finding the tinder box and heading to the common room hearth.


"I- are you serious child?"


You nod vigorously, small hands deftly lighting the scrounged straw amidst the spliced boughs. It smokes, giving way to a tiny flame, but it's enough. Covere with sticks and moss, it'll soon grow into a ready heat.


"Child, you are the sole living person in this entire village. There are bodies upstairs, and-"


"Place has gotta be ready," is your adamant response.


"You have no idea who is coming! If they catch wind of what you are, of what happened here-"


"Then I have you,"


Stunned silence is the voice's only reply, along with a clench of surprise.


OPTIONS:

  1. Start making dinner.
  2. Get rid of the bodies upstairs.
  3. Go and see whoever is coming.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
It would probably be better if any guests didn't stumble upon Papa. That kind of thing was bound to look bad regardless. But you couldn't move move him- Well, you could really, but that puppeting thing is hard, and you're not sure where you'd put him...


Probably be best if you just locked the door. After all, nobody should be going into your parents room anyway, so locking it seems like the normal thing to do.


Finding the skeleton key that Mama had hidden behind the bar (underneath the counter, behind the upper lip), you dash upstairs and lock the room.


"Getting ready for guests?" asks Big Maeve with a smile.


You nod vigorously.


"Excellent!" she booms with a hearty smile. "IT'd be nice to get some new blood in here. Been lonely this past while,"


A sense of confusion creeps underneath your moods, a skulking thing that is not your own.


"Perhaps I've been gone far too long from the inn to share your enthusiasm for guests. Or perhaps it's the fact that we're a lone living child amidst a village of the dead, I don't know," grumbles the voice, the sarcasm bitingly sharp.


You ignore her. Guests are good! Great even! New stories to listen to, new foods and things to experience, not to mention the cheer they bring to inn itself. Well, cheer most of the time.


Still, it would be proper to see how many are coming. Dinner needs to be ready, and for the right amount of people too. Bad form not to have enough to feed them, and having too much is bad for the inn. Can't waste food after all.


With the pitter patter of tiny feet, you scurry out side to the walls to get a better look.


The walls themselves are a bit patchwork, crumbling in some places. Good stone, and they do form a good enclosure, but they're not the strongest in some places. The gate is sturdy enough though. Beside it, a ladder is propped up next to the lookout overlooking the plains ahead, a good story or two taller than the walls. A newer addition, made of wood, lashed together, but it gets the job done. Bouncing up the rungs, you grow slower as you reach the top. It's tall enough to make your legs stiff and your hands tremble, but it's an excited jitter, one that leaves a smile on your face.


From here, you can see for miles across the Frontier. The flat plains stretching out in front of you. The winding river, slinking out through the woods to the north, through the town. The farms, just on the edge of your vision, far off in the distance. All of it if brightly lit by the midday sun, shining on from directly above.


As for the visitors...


They're off in the distance. A caravan of sorts, coming from deeper out on the Frontier. A good couple horses, and at least two wagons. Lotta folks, least an hour or so away.


OPTIONS:

  1. Start making dinner.
  2. Wait to greet them.
  3. Maybe you should hide.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
"I don't like this," is murmured behind your ears.


"Me too," you agree.


"...really?"


"Yeah. I gotta get started on dinner right away!"


"...oh,"


Even if you couldn't feel the depth of irritation seeping from the pendant, the sheer flat, humorlessness of the voice easily illustrated just how annoyed Rita was getting. You ignore her. She's obviously forgotten just what it was like to run the inn. To be a god host, rather than... whatever it is that she is now.


After a series of exceedingly careful steps down the watchtower ladder, you practically skip back to the inn. Dinner is your main aim now, and you roll up your sleeves in anticipation of the work. Mama-... She usually started bread early in the morning, because it took so long to make. Now, you were fairly sure you didn't have the time. Stew without bread is a little sad, but it can't be helped. You'll just make sure to put in extra dumplings in that case.


It's as you're chucking more wood onto the hungry flames inside the stove that a thought comes to mind.


"Rita?" you hazard softly.


"Hm?"


She's sullen. Like before, there's no need to feel the knot of emotion that's not yours. Her mood is more than clear from her voice.


"Can I get a little help here?"


That sigh.


"Child, I don't have a body, and most of the meatstuffs are too ground up for me to control,"


"Wh-..." you start, only for realisation to hit you. It conjures the odd image of cured sausages and salted hocks crawling out of the larder, all awkward limps and juddering pulls.


"Oh. No, that's... that's not what I mean,"  you mumble, trying to dispel the ghastly procession from parading through your head. "I mean.... can the others help me?"


"Not if they don't have bodies child. We've been through this," is the flat response.


The voice doesn't seem up to being useful. You shake your head. Can't be helped, you guess. Wordlessly, you get back to the task at hand.


By the time the stew is bubbling nicely, a creamy concotion laden with chunks of carrot, turnip, peas, rice, and pieces of sausage, you start to hear the sounds of the arrival in the village.


OPTIONS:

  1. Go out to greet them.
  2. Wait for them to come, get Maeve to check them out.
  3. Hide as best as you can.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
Briefly, you consider going out to them, greeting whatever weary travellers are arriving, but ultimately, you decide to hang back. To wait for them.


Still, you'd rather not be unprepared when they come to you.


"Maeve," you call out meekly.


The big woman tromps down the stairs soundlessly.


"Hm?"


"Can you go outside and check on our guests? I would, but I want to make sure everything is ready for them, and a head count would be good,"


"Good thinking little Lucy," she beams, flashing a wide gaptoothed smile, lobsided by the awkward angle of her head. She steps through the solid oak door, going through the motions of opening it despite unaffecting it.


A few minutes pass. You can hear the sounds outside getting clearer. The clack of axles, the clop of horses, the thud of footsteps. It's odd though. Normally, you're used to some sort of hub bub, of talking or something, but there's only quiet on that front. Perhaps it's been a long trip, one that's eaten away at their urge to speak.


"Lotta folks," announces Maeve, suddenly stepping in through the door. "A pair a' caravans, half a dozen horses besides that, and a bunch a' folks with weapons,"


As if to illustrate her point, there's a loud rapping on the door.


OPTIONS:

  1. Open it.
  2. Ask who is it.
  3. Wait patiently for them to enter.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
Without even the slightest hesitation, and ignoring the blatant disapproval emanating from Rita's corner, you open the door.


A man looms above you, wrapped in thick leathers, a well worn pike in one hand. He looks down with dark eyes, a clear look of surprise and confusion etched across his bearded face.


"Welcome to the Ashen Witch Inn," you chime cheerfully, offering him a bright smile.


The man's mouth opens, then closes, and he looks back. Behind him, are indeed the people and wagons that Big Maeve described. Most of them are dressed like him, in thick leathers or piecemeal armor. A pair sit astride horses, slender things far from the broad mares you're used to.


He seems to take some unseen signal from one of them, and turns back to you.


"I... thank you," he replies slowly. "Would you happen to have space for close to a score of folk, merchants and their guard?"


You nod vigourously. There's enough room in the inn for up to a score people, if they don't mind where they sleep. Usually only the rich folk get the rooms anyway when there's a lot of them.


"Two rooms, and as many can sleep in the common," you reply happily.


Again, he turns back, searches for some gesture, and returns to you.


"Again, thank you,"


"We also have a lotta dinner!"


He smiles, a surprisingly warm expression on a face so hairy. It disappears quickly though, replaced by a look of concern.


"Tell me child," he asks, stepping down to a single knee, his head now level with yours. "Why is yours the only home with a fire? Where is everyone else?"


OPTIONS:

  1. Truth.
  2. Lie.
  3. Evade.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
You try not to wince. People act funny about that whole sort of thing, what with mass death and plague. Instead, you try to keep smiling, to keep the pained expression from your face. You're not sure if you succeed at that, considering the concern still clear across the man's face.


"Well, that's... that's kind of a long story," you admit slowly, looking away from his eyes. "But yes, dinner. Coppers up front, two for a bowl of stew, and another three for the night. Five if you get a room. For a score of people that'd be..."


Scrunching up your face in thought, you try to do the numbers in your head like you were taught. Still, you can't help but count it out on your fingers.


"Uh... sixty... sixty five... seventy... seventy five..." you murmur to yourself, trailing an index across fingertips.


"One hundred," whispers the voice softly. Her disapproval is emanating strongly, but there's little of it in her voice. "Up to one hundred eight if both beds in both rooms are taken,"


"Um... One hundred coppers for all of you," you repeat quickly. "Or one hundred and eight if you want the rooms as well,"


The man doesn't say anything. His eyes just flick behind you.


"Are you here alone?"


OPTIONS:

  1. Truth.
  2. Lie.
  3. Evade.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
No no, this just won't do. What was it that Papa used to say?


Putting your hands on your hips, you try to scowl like Papa did when pressed with hagglers.


"Look, this is an inn, not a chapel. You want room and board or not? 'Cause if you do and you're willing to pay for them, then yeah, I'll talk all you like, but I ain't gonna stand outside in the cold for nothing,"


Not quite the best rendition of the man, on account of you leaving out all the coarse words he'd pepper it when he was trying to be proper angry, but good enough.


At this little outburst, the man looks nothing but perplexed, brow furrowed as he tries to take this in. After a second of what you assume is stunned contemplation, he raises one hand for ask for a moment, rising from where he had knelt and heading back over to the caravans. Murmuring to one of the riders, you can't quite catch their whispered conversation, though you do catch a sharp exclamation of "What?" somewhere in the middle of the exchange.


Little hands still planted on your sides, you try to continue Papa's air as both figures fall silent, turning in your direction.


With words finished, the man comes back over to you, a pouch in hand. It chirrups with the sound of metal on metal as he moves.


"Ten eight for rooms, common, and dinner... Miss?"


"Lucy," is your reply, accompanied by a wee curtsy, just as Mama taught you.


Taking the pouch, you would make sure to count it later on. It would be rude to doubt the man's word in front of him.


"And you are?" you continue, hefting the bag carefully.


"Nate,"


OPTIONS:

  1. Tell him and the rest to come in.
  2. Ask him what are they transporting.
  3. Go out and show them the stables.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
"Right Mister Nate, I'm gonna show you the stables," you say loudly, tucking the purse into the front pocket of your apron.


"Uh... sure," he murmurs, turning and gesturing to the wagons. Those assembled start to follow.


Marching out into the dirt street, you point down to the large stables quite clearly behind the inn.


"Right there. I'd take care of the horses, but..."


The whiff of the wagons passing by stings your nose with their rancidness, of sweat and shit. Were you not already accustomed to such smells, having to occasionally scrub the chamberpots, you might have gagged. Instead, you do your Papa proud, and only hesitate in your statement with a flicker in your expression.


"...I think you all would probably like dinner as soon as you come in,"


"That'd be nice lass," says Nate.


The majority of the procession follows him and you as you reenter the in, only a few going with the wagons. One of those heading with you seems to be the one that Nate was talking to. A bony, gaunt fellow, wearing a permanent sneer. Unlike most of the others, he wears little armor, his clothing more comfortable. Whispering something to Nate, he watches you carefully.


OPTIONS:

  1. Start serving up dinner.


    Ask them where they're travelling to and from.
  2. Ask what they're transporting.

[*]
Tell them to help themselves, start cleaning up the rooms.




  1. While out of sight, have Big Maeve spy on them.

  2. While out of sight, talk to Rita.

[*]
Write in.



Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
You start serving up stew, passing the bowls along to each of the fellows to distribute amongst themselves. Some of them make to eat, but Nate stops them.


Throwing a careful glance to you, he says aloud "It wouldn't be polite to eat before our host,"


The other look to him, then to you, and reluctantly lower their spoons. How polite.


Eventually, bowls are served up for all, even you. As you take several spoonfuls, Nate nods to his peers, and they too begin eating. Some practically inhale the food, some chat away between themselves, and some leave in short order.


"So where are you folks coming from?" you ask, trying to make smalltalk as Mama and Papa did. You always did love listening to stories of far off places.


"South, past the Frontier, at the edge of Lama," Nate says carefully.


Lama, wilderness of the south. You've heard folks speak of it passing through here before. A hot place, even hotter than here, populated by a dark people, who trucked with dangerous spirits. A scary place indeed, but exciting.


"Oh?" you ask aloud, the beginning of a smile creeping onto your lips.


"Aye. We're moving back up to Kelen with our- our wares," he tells you.


OPTIONS:

  1. Ask about his wares.

  2. Ask if that's why he has so many guards.

  3. Ask how come you haven't seen him pass through here before.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
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"Oh! That must be why you have so many guards," you comment around a spoonful of stew. "Delicate cargo then? You can bring it into the inn if you'd like,"


Before Nate can answer, the bony fellow from before speaks up. Up until now, he's been quiet and sullen, barely touching his food and watching you like a hawk.


"No, they'll be fine where they're at," he snaps, throwing a dirty look to Nate, as if daring him to speak up.


"Bastard," scowls Rita. "Noble born, I'd stake my teeth on it,"


OPTIONS:

  1. "...they?"

  2. "Oh, I'm sorry, I don't think we've been introduced," (Passive aggressive y/n)

  3. Smile and nod, but subtly ask Maeve to check it out.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
"Oh, I'm sorry, I don't think we've been introduced,"


You inject the sentence with as much sickening sweetness as possible, practically oozing with it. The man's sneer falters for a moment, and the ghost of a smile quirks up the sides of Nate's lips. You can even hear a snrk and the flare of mirth echoing from the back of your head.


The man regains his composure rather quickly, his scowl redoubling.


"I am Nicholas DuChamp, vassal to House Thiah and leader of this merchant expedition,"


"What a pompous ass," remarks Rita scathingly. She definitely doesn't seem to have a fondness for this fellow, what with the sense of disdain and hostility you can feel radiating from wherever it is that she occupies inside you.


OPTIONS:

  1. "That's nice. I'm Miss Lucy, of the Ashen Witch Inn. I made the stew,"
  2. "Oh, okay," (Let rest of of meal pass in peace)

  3. Smile and nod, but subtly ask Maeve to check it out.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
"That's nice. I'm Miss Lucy, of the Ashen Witch Inn. I made the stew that's filling your belly."

You lay on the sickly sweet tone, and DuChamp's foul expression deepens. Quickly, it slides off his face, and he puts his nose in the air. A glare is momentarily directed at Nate, as if daring him to make a noise, but the other man is impassive, concentrating on his stew.

"How quaint," he mutters loudly, the note of derision clear in his voice even to you.

The rest of the meal passes in silence, the men cowed by DuChamp's petulant aura. Still, you're still curious about their wares, whatever they may be.

As the meal winds down, a fellow from the outside returns, whispering to DuChamp, who pales. The silence grows even thicker, and the noble man throws a wary glance to you.

OPTIONS:
  1. Inquir as to what's going on.
  2. Excuse yourself from the table, go hide.
  3. Ignore it, try and remain unobtrusive, but ask Maeve to go check out on the men outside.
  4. Write in.
Please respond in Voting Thread.

@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
Despite DuChamp's worried stares, you can't help but feel curious about whatever he said his "wares" were. He distinctly used the word "them". The implication leaves a cold weight pulling at the bottom of your stomach. You don't know why.

Carefully, you pick up your mostly empty plate, shuffling off of the chair at the table. As much as the idea of finding out causes the churning dread in your guts to redouble, you need to find out. It's your inn now. Your village. It's up to you to take care of it.

"I'm just going to start cleaning up now," you say, trying to keep the worry from your face. "When you're finished with your food, put the plates in the middle, and I'll be back to pick 'em up, okay?"

A wave of nods rolls through the assembled, but DuChamp does not break his gaze. It makes your skin crawl.

"Be careful child. He knows something," murmurs Rita as you step away from the table.

Padding into the kitchen, you wait until the door is closed to make any sort of response.

"Maeve?" you call out quietly.

The woman sticks her odd-angled head through the door, giving you a gap toothed smile.

"Aye lass?"

"Do you mind..."

Your stomach pulls at you.

"...going outside to the stable and finding out what the guests are bringing? I'd just kinda like to know," you ask softly.

"Aye lass," she repeats, disappearing again through the polished hardwood.

OPTIONS:
  1. Act as if nothing is happening, continue cleaning.
  2. Leave the Inn through the door in the basement.
  3. Ask if anyone would like some sweetbreads for the desert, and help yourself.
  4. Write in.
Please respond in Voting Thread.

@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
Briefly, you consider fleeing. Just running away, one leg in front of the other until all of this... badness is behind you. But you can't. This is your inn. Your village. If it doesn't have you, it doesn't have anybody.

That settles it. Gritting your teeth (as quietly as possible mind), you start cleaning up, determined to not let anything but a caring smile shine out from your face. Still, that sinking feeling seems to have made itself in home inside you, now accompanied by the suspicion that DuChamp sees right through you.

"You should run," whispers the voice. "I know that face, that expression. They know. I don't know what, but they know,"

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere," you announce upon reentering the common, a tray in hand for all the empty bowls. The statement is as much for Rita as it is for the men assembled. DuChamp still isn't taking his eyes off of you, a heavy veil of disgust under his unwholesome gaze.

"I should hope not," he says flatly, the barest hint of a mocking tone to his voice. "What kind of host would leave her guests behind?"

"He knows!" hisses the voice, the flare of urgency pulsing from within you.

But it doesn't matter. You've made your choice.

Maeve returns silently, lips pursed in a curious expression.

"Whole lot of Laman folk cooped up in that little caravan. 'Hadta guess, I'd say boyo here is a slave trader,"

"Go!" is Rita's redoubled hiss, almost a yell in your head.

OPTIONS:
  1. You've made your choice, act the host.
  2. Leave the Inn through the door in the basement.
  3. While in the kitchen, make yourself clear to Rita.
  4. Write in.
Please respond in Voting Thread.

@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
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