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Post by Mini on Oct 22, 2019 16:47:42 GMT -6
Etten helvesse.
The word echoed in her ears and in her mind. In the amount of time it took to blink, she slumped backwards in her chair. Just as she had been instructed, her mind and body instantly succumbed to the command to fall back into the thralls of a very deep trance. The pull of the blissful void of blankness called to her once again. Every last muscle in her body relaxed as a pleasant shudder ran down her back.
The fork would have clattered to the ground out of her limp hand had D'Mytri not reached over and plucked the fork out of her loose grasp at the last possible second.
Just like before, there was a long pause before she seemed able to find the ability to move her mouth and make her vocal chords work. Make no mistake - her mind heard the question. She wanted to answer him, but it was just so hard to find the energy, the focus, the will to do... well, anything. Of course, her desire to obey the one who had placed her into such a trance was stronger than her desire to simply sit and be.
First, D'Mytri asked her if she was hungry. She mumbled a very soft "yes" in response.
The second question was a bit more involved. Once she was awake, she would forget all about D'Mytri being a Nosferat. This thought made her sad, but only in brief passing. No, deep down, she understood that this was for the best. Cassidy managed a bit of a nod. "Mmm... Yes. I... I understand," she murmured. "I'll hear my name... forget all the... details. You'll be... just... a... a... traveler... and I... I'll... I'll just be... hungry."
That answer must have satisfied D'mytri, for it wasn't long at all before he was gentle speaking her full name - not that Cassidy would have recalled this soon after waking, of course.
With a bit of a jolt, Cassidy awakened and sat fully upright. "Huh?" she murmured, blinking a few times as she seemed to become fully aware of her surroundings. She found herself staring at D'Mytri, the traveler she had checked in earlier that morning. What in the world was she doing sitting in his bedroom? Her eyes were drawn down to the now almost empty plate of scrambled egg concoction she had whipped up for him in the kitchen. Even now, nearly completely devoured and very much destroyed, the food looked delicious. Eggs were one of her specialties. Her stomach growled loudly just as he asked her if she was all right.
Blushing wildly, Cassidy quickly stood up and smoothed her clothes down absent-mindedly. "Oh, oh my goodness, I-I'm so terribly sorry to have imposed on you for so long, Mr. D'Mytri," she stammered. "Listen to me, just prattling on like some old biddy and then just staring off into space like that while I lose my train of thought, and you being too polite to tell me to just bugger off and let you enjoy your meal in peace." She gave him a very bashful smile as she nodded to him and started to back step towards the door.
"Um, right, then. I'll just leave you to enjoy your meal. Feel free to just stack the dishes right outside in the hallway when you're done with them. I or someone else will be back up later this afternoon to pick them up. If you get hungry around lunch or dinner, just pop on down to the dining room and we'll get you squared away," she assured him, smiling politely. "And if you need anything else at all, please don't hesitate to ask. I'll be here until dinner. Teague will be here this afternoon and evening. Teague as in 'Teague's Tavern & Inn,' of course. You'll get to meet the man himself," she added with a soft little giggle. "Now really, I've kept you far too long. My apologies again. Please, enjoy the rest of your breakfast, and do enjoy your stay with us."
Smiling, she gave D'Mytri one final nod before turning and vanishing down the stairs in the direction of the kitchen.
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Post by Nitari Windrider on Oct 26, 2019 15:51:27 GMT -6
She came to awareness slowly, and that was normal. He helped himself to more delicious breakfast food as she collected her thoughts, giving her mind ample time to fill itself in on what they'd been doing. The rationalizations were his favorite part, truth be told. Some Nosferat enjoyed the trance the most, others the half trance that made someone incredibly suggestible while preserving their ability to act somewhat independently, but D'Mytri loved the moments immediately after a subject came out of trance when psychic suggestion met reality and the brain struggled to reconcile the two. It never took very long, but it was always fascinating to watch. The growling of her stomach was especially enjoyable, as she'd demonstrated no physical signs of hunger before the trance. He didn't delude himself into thinking he was at all responsible for the actions of her stomach, but the coincidence made him smile to himself.
Another thing that made him smile was that, blushing with embarrassment, Cassidy stammered out an apology for spending so long in his room.
"Oh, oh my goodness, I-I'm so terribly sorry to have imposed on you for so long, Mr. D'Mytri. Listen to me, just prattling on like some old biddy and then just staring off into space like that while I lose my train of thought, and you being too polite to tell me to just bugger off and let you enjoy your meal in peace."
"It's no imposition at all, miss Cassidy. After spending time with Fiona it was pleasant having a conversation in which I found myself capable of contribution."
"I'll just leave you to enjoy your meal," she continued with a bashful smile, "Feel free to just stack the dishes right outside in the hallway when you're done with them. I or someone else will be back up later this afternoon to pick them up. If you get hungry around lunch or dinner, just pop on down to the dining room and we'll get you squared away. And if you need anything else at all, please don't hesitate to ask. I'll be here until dinner. Teague will be here this afternoon and evening. Teague as in 'Teague's Tavern & Inn,' of course. You'll get to meet the man himself. Now really, I've kept you far too long. My apologies again. Please, enjoy the rest of your breakfast, and do enjoy your stay with us."
D'Mytri stood and bowed politely.
"Thank you for your hospitality miss Cassidy. Fiona was not exaggerating when she told me this was the best place to stay in the entire village."
Once Cassidy was headed off toward the kitchen D'Mytri set upon the remains of his breakfast. His earlier meal was far superior, of course, but that was no fault of Cassidy's cooking. She had somehow prepared a dish he was actually enjoying, which was saying something. Most human food existed in varying shades of uninteresting to his palate, considering both how little nutrition his body would be able to draw from it and how different the flavors were to which his palate was attuned, but through some culinary sorcery he found himself enjoying a human breakfast and looking forward to tasting more of her dishes. Truly she was a wonder, this flower of morning he had ensnared. Perhaps it was not such a dark fate that had brought him here after all.
Once there was not a scrap of food remaining he set the dishes outside the door as directed and doused all the lights in the room, making it as dark as he could manage so he could rest. His eyes were more well suited to the dark, after all, and even if he didn't actually sleep spending time in a room without unnecessary light would restore his mind and heart considerably. He settled into the bed and closed his eyes, not caring if it was sleep or meditation that passed the hours while his body processed the nourishment it had received this morning. Perhaps after the sun had passed its zenith he would emerge again and see how he felt. It would suit the illusion to remain more or less bedridden for at least a day, but he was anxious to learn more about this human town and about its church in particular...
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Post by Mini on Oct 28, 2019 19:39:45 GMT -6
On the other side of Cairnbaan, Fiona Gagliardi found herself standing before The Altar of the Solemn Sanctum. It was deep within the church, located far back beyond the parts that the general public ever saw. Beyond the nave and the narthex, far beyond the towers and the courtyards, past the Triple Towers, and tucked back into what was rumored to be connected to the mountains themselves was a series of rooms and cellars that nobody save for the Templars and the Priests knew of. The Altar of the Solemn Sanctum was a room - more of a hallway with no end, really - that was easily thirty or forty feet tall. Immaculate stained glass covered both sides, depicting scenes taken from the earliest scrolls. To the left was The First Garden, where all manner of plants burst forth from nothing and spread outward, forming the Land itself. Following that and moving towards the right were the stories that everybody knew: The Awakening, The Great Flame, The First Feast, The Gyft Of Night's Light, The Tear, A Goddess's Sorrow, The Dance of The Three, and The Door's Blessing.
Her body seemed to have brought itself to this place as if on autopilot, for she hadn't intended to come here on this trip, but it would seem that The Three had other intentions for her. It had been an exceedingly long day, an exhausting and restless night, and an even more substantially draining morning. A clouded and distracted mind led to hesitation and mistakes, and it would not serve to have her in such a state. Perhaps, then, some silent meditation was indeed in order. Taking a deep breath and whispering prayers that had long ago been committed to memory, she crossed herself in the sign of The Three and knelt before the altar.
After leaving Dmitri Noster, the strange man who she found collapsed in the woods, behind at Teague's, she had made a beeline straight for the church. Using too much magic in too short a time period had meant that the High Templar had nearly collapsed into the arms of the poor acolytes who had opened the door to her. A flurry of action had happened next, most of which she could scarcely even remember. Somehow or another, she had found herself in the gentle care of the priestesses and their handmaidens. Her possessions were stowed safely away, her weapons and armor were removed for repairs, cleanings, and fresh blessings, and she was whisked off to the hot springs for own kind of repairs, cleanings, and fresh blessings. Dirt, grime, and dried blood were washed away until her skin shone and her hair smelled faintly of lemons.
Fiona's long blonde hair had been brushed out and left loose. It cascaded over her shoulders and fell halfway down her back as she knelt before the altar. She wore a simple white dress with long sleeves. There was no need for her to don her armor inside the recesses of the church, after all. Several hours had passed, during which time she ate and exchanged news with others, but there was one person in particular she was eager to speak to. Word had been sent off of her arrival, but she knew it would be a while before she was summoned. How long had it been since she had set off on her secret quest from Kalyssia? It felt like years, but in truth she had probably only been gone for several weeks.
With a deep sigh, she looked up at the marble statue of The Three looming above her. There were three beautiful figures, depicted with long, flowing hair. The two on the ends could have been either male or female. They stood with their outer arms gesturing welcoming towards the alter and with their inner arms stretched towards the middle figure, who seemed to be the most feminine of the trio. The middle figure had her hands clasped together in prayer. The figure on the left wore a crown of sprouting wood. The figure in the middle was shrouded with a halo. The figure on the right wore a crown of jagged crystals. The artist who had depicted them had done a beautiful job, for each one of their heavenly forms were shown draped in cloth that looked realistic enough that it was strange to not any of it moving. Art was not one of Fiona's strengths. She couldn't imagine the kind of dedication and patience it took to hammer and carve away at a chunk of rock and make it look like a living, breathing person... or deity, in this case.
Enough artwork admiration. She hadn't come here to stare at statues, after all.
"O Great Guardians, I come before Ye all an' humbly ask for thy wisdom an' guidance. I, High Templar Fiona Gagliardi, First Order o' th' Knights of Kalyssia, do hereby humbly once again come to Thee in a time o' great need," she murmured, closing her eyes as she beseeched aide from The Three. "Our world, our people, th' way o' life Ye left t' us t' protect, is under attack like never before. Darke monsters, creatures from th' Wyld, are spreadin' like wildfire throughout all o' Travaria. We've been doin' th' best we can, but ah'm afraid it jest might not be enough. Once again, Ah've seen th' awful devastation caused by these soulless vermin, th' Vampyrs. Th' whole village o' Latona... destroyed. Many were seduced by their disgusting darke arts, captured, an' taken off as... as mindless cattle for them, blissfully unaware o' th' fate that awaits them," she spat angrily. Her hands tightened into fists. "Thousands o' lives lost. Thousands o' innocents lost. Women, children, babes not yet even begun t' live," she scowled, shaking her head. "Their numbers are on th' rise. They fight dirty. They use Darke Magyks to trick, to deceive, an' t' destroy all we hold sacred."
"But..." Fiona took a deep breath to calm herself down. She lifted her eyes up to the statue. "But with Your Divine Blessings, O Holiest Ones, that may be about t' change." She turned and look to the figure to the far left, the one wearing the crown of sprouting wood. "Ishzari, Great Giver o' Life, from you I do humbly beg blessings o' magic. Strengthen me so that ah may be able t' draw from th' great power Ye left behind, th' Lyfeblood that gives us our powers, th' powers we use to keep this Land an' this Life safe from Darkness." She turned and looked to the figure on the far right, the one wearing the crown of jagged crystal. "Korro, Mighty One Who Hammered Out Th' Land Itself, from you I do humbly beg blessings o' body. Grant me th' strength t' wield any weapon an' slice through any foe. Should ah be injured, grant me thine blessings t' grin an' bear it an' push through any pain t' carry out Thy will." Finally, she turned and looked upon the figure in the middle. "Puruto, Glorious Guardian o' Time, from you I do humbly beg blessings o' th' mind. Give me th' time needed t' complete this dangerous task set before me, an' give me th' resolve t' see it through t' th' end, no matter th' costs."
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Post by Nitari Windrider on Nov 2, 2019 17:42:43 GMT -6
Father Timothy James strode down the corridors of the Church of the Lone Door, every step filled with the confidence that no one within these walls would dare interrupt him unless there was no other choice. That this attitude was entirely accurate given his rank within the church hierarchy didn't stop the confidence of his strides from clashing terribly with the serene mask he'd made of his features and the humble demeanor he'd cultivated in his overall bearing. He knew that no one here outranked him but they still had expectations that would prove problematic if he deviated from their image of the perfect priest. Especially in a place as prestigious as the chapel built upon the very soil upon which the Lone Door itself had stood in the time before time there was an image to adhere to, a reputation to uphold. Father James was a man who was always very conscious of how he was perceived. He'd come to the priesthood in the usual sort of way, of course, very pious and devoted to serving the Three, but had discovered his ambitions as he'd gained more and more authority. It was no accident that he'd been exactly who and where he'd needed to be to secure a promotion all the way from humble monk to his current position, so close now to the conclave itself. From there it would only be a matter of time before he became the most powerful man in the faith with legions of devoted followers and a small army of Templars and other holy soldiers to do his-...The Three's...sacred bidding. He was a man of faith, of personal sacrifice to serve as a shepherd and bastion of moral truth to the communities he served. He'd been at this particular church for several months now, following a letter from the priest who directly served the congregation of Cairnbaan regarding a series of strange occurrences in the area. Reports of Wyld creatures and disappearances and the like. This clearly required his direct attention, of course, and he'd come promptly much to the young friar's relief. The man had been raised in the faith and had served the Three since he was old enough to understand the required oaths, but had no practical experience in such matters as these.
Father James was passing by the Altar of the Solemn Sanctum, a sanctuary reserved only for those in the church's service, when he heard a quiet prayer being spoken. To the best of his knowledge all the nuns and acolytes who lived here were attending other tasks, so who could have found their way into the heart of the church to the altar that stood at the precise spot where the fabled door had once stood? He took a few quiet steps backward and looked into the room, straining his eyes to make out enough about the figure to discern an identity. Not a local to the best of his knowledge. A woman with hair like that would have stood out to him long before. That long blond hair stood out like a beacon, as if it drank in any amount of light it found and shone with stolen radiance. As he quietly entered the room and walked toward where the woman was kneeling he started catching pieces of her prayers. That accent was certainly not local. Hadn't he heard something about someone having come to the church? The acolytes had been abuzz all morning with unexpected duties added onto their usual tasks. He drew still closer and could almost hear her quite clearly. That's right. Templar Fiona Gagliardi. She'd been exhausted, he'd heard, and had come to rest before heading out again on whatever sacred task she'd been sent on. She'd be wanting to speak to the old man, then. The cardinal was the sort of man who looked far more frail than he was and was wise even beyond his considerable years. His humility far outstripped whatever shreds of ambition he'd once had, of course, and was ironically the sort of person who presented the greatest obstacle to Father James' ascent. How paradoxical the church, where the people who advance are those who want it the least. He came up quietly and knelt near Fiona, crossing himself in the sign of the Three and speaking familiar prayers of his own, keeping his voice loud enough to be heard but not loud enough to startle her. If she gave a start anyway, that would tell him much. If she didn't, just as well. The first step was always to make the woman aware of the presence of a priest. Prayer was the perfect approach, of course. Who would believe that a member of the clergy praying to the Three would pose any threat to anyone? It made him approachable, which made engaging them in conversation a simple matter. He would work from there to see what this Templar was about, and what business the cardinal had with her.
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Post by Mini on Nov 3, 2019 21:36:54 GMT -6
About halfway through her prayers, Fiona became aware of a presence lurking somewhere behind her. Some people claimed that all Templars seemed to have a hidden third eye in the back of their heads, but this was utter rubbish. Years of training had heightened her senses to the point where very little could sneak up on her. Having her eyes closed also allowed her to pay better attention to her other senses. She didn't actually sense a presence behind her so much as she heard the soft scuffles of feet moving slowly and quietly across ancient stones combined with the very faint sounds of fabric rustling against itself as somebody moved closer towards her.
Whoever it was seemed intent on invading her private prayers. This caused her to scoff inwardly at such a callous action, but she made no indication of her innermost thought processes. Fiona had been raised in the firm belief that what you said in prayer was strictly between yourself and The Three. People in her home village were much more quiet, private, and reserved in that way. There was no need to make a spectacle of yourself. If you truly needed another person to accompany you in prayer, then you sought out a private meeting with a close family member or a trusted member of the clergy of the local church. That was just how it was. Her reaction to seeing how openly others had been, coming right up to a complete stranger, making direct eye contact, grasping hands and fervently asking the best way they could pray for you had caused quite a scene on the first day of Templar training. Praying openly with others around, even if it was simply to join in silently and listen while another prayed, was a strange and foreign concept for her still to this day.
She lowered her voice to a soft murmur as the stranger quietly knelt besides her. Curiosity got the better of her as she opened her eyes and stole a glimpse of the man who had dared intrude upon her prayers. Naturally, it was a member of the clergy. It wasn't anyone she instantly recognized, which puzzled her. She had come and gone from this place so often over the past few weeks that she was nearly positive she knew all of the priests by now, at least by their faces if not by their names. It took another quick glance for her to notice the minute details in his wardrobe that she had missed the first time. This was no ordinary priest! Fiona averted her eyes, praying that he hadn't noticed her gawking at him in surprise. She had heard that word had been sent out to the capital for help dealing with everything going on, but she had left before ever finding out what had come of that letter. Her travels back and forth after that had been brief and often ill-timed. But there was no mistaking it... Could this man possibly be the Archbishop himself??
Fiona waited for a natural pause to come up in his own prayers before speaking.
"Peace be t' ye, Father," she began, bowing courteously to him. "Forgive th' intrusion, but ah dinnae think we've had th' chance t' meet. It has been many weeks since ah have last been back t' Cairnbaan, so my sincerest apologies if'n ye were recently appointed here durin' mah absence. My name is Fiona, High Templar o' Kalyssia," she began, not offering her hand to him, but instead clasping both hands together in a posture of prayer as she nodded her head forward. This was a sign of deep respect among all Templars. "Ah had heard that a request fer help had been sent out by one o' th' priests or bishops in regard t' some recent troubles brewin' up here, but ah've been tied up with other wee matters. Th' problems here are some o' th' worst ah've seen, an' believe me, ah've been t' many a sight now. If ye don't mind me askin', might that be th' reason yer here in th' village?"
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Post by Nitari Windrider on Nov 6, 2019 20:09:28 GMT -6
Perfection.
He'd heard the slight pause in her prayers when she'd heard him approaching and the lowering of her volume when she decided not to do anything about his presence. She waited politely for him to reach a pause in his own prayers, which simultaneously surprised him and went exactly as he'd expected. A Templar by nature would respect a person's prayers, but people were always instinctively impatient with the unknown. Unanswered questions and the like. When she did speak her accent gave him trouble for a moment before his mind caught up. How had he not noticed how thick it was before? Or was she doing it on purpose to subtly needle him? It ultimately didn't matter. What mattered was that she had talked to him first.
"My name is Fiona, High Templar o' Kalyssia."
The gesture that followed, hands clasped as if in prayer accompanied by a slight bow, was one of deep respect. It wasn't offered to just anyone, so it was a clear signal that she'd noticed his rank and was offering due respect to a man of his position.
"Ah had heard that a request fer help had been sent out by one o' th' priests or bishops in regard t' some recent troubles brewin' up here, but ah've been tied up with other wee matters. Th' problems here are some o' th' worst ah've seen, an' believe me, ah've been t' many a sight now. If ye don't mind me askin', might that be th' reason yer here in th' village?"
He nodded, making a slight bow of his own.
"Peace be to you as well, Templar Fiona. My name is Timothy James. As you have already guessed I am indeed here to aid in the suppression of the surge in troubles, as you put it. I have no martial talent to speak of, naturally, but I have some talent in combating the darke forces in my own way. I expect we'll be working together from time to time, no?"
Find common ground. Create a bond of some sort. Give her reason to trust and open up. Fiona was an excellent warrior, he had no doubt, but like everyone she had her weaknesses. If he was patient and careful, and he could be so very patient and careful, she would be very useful going forward. When her guard was sufficiently lowered he would have to consider his next move very carefully. One misstep and her suspicions would be raised and that would simply not do.
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Post by Mini on Nov 7, 2019 21:36:31 GMT -6
So the rumors were true! Someone had sent a letter pleading for help to the capital, and they had actually responded by sending a man of rather impressive stature and ranking out to such a cold and desolate place such as Cairnbaan. Of course, it was one of the oldest religious sites in all of the land (that was unfortunately in such a difficult to get to location that it saw only the holiest and most determined of pilgrimages - but none this time of year, naturally), so that might have had something to do with it. It might also have had something to do with the recent total decimation of two villagers. Each and every last building in the two villages had been razed to the ground. Livestock had been slaughtered, fields had been decimated, and thousands had been slaughtered. Hundreds more were unaccounted for. The Church presumed the missing to either have fled into the Wylds or been captured and forced into becoming prisoners of war. Father Timothy James' appearance could also have had something to do with the questionable deaths of at least seven individuals and the disappearances of at least eleven others right here in Cairnbaan over the course of the past two months. Then, of course, there was the rise in Darke and Wyld creature sightings. That traveler she had rescued had mentioned being chased by Urioka, and she herself had fought and destroyed a Lycoinu that very morning. That had been after dealing with the pack of Weezulls that had snuck up on her the evening before. Nasty little rodents with four rows of teeth too many, in her opinion.
Much of this was not public knowledge just yet, which made her hesitate going forward. The destruction of the villages was probably the most dangerous bit of information that she knew. The Knights of Drastroud had stumbled upon the devastation of Smarouk by accident, only hours too late to do anything about it. They had only learned about what had befallen the village of Muilderin after torturing it out of a leech who had been unlucky enough to try and feed on the Captain of the Guard of the Knights of Drastroud.
Fiona turned her attention back to the present. Father James seemed to waiting for her response to his subtly worded question. It was an innocent enough question, she surmised, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than that. She gave him a polite smile.
"Aye, ah s'pose we jest might be dependin' on what comes next. Ah confess, ah am not sure what path ah'll be takin' next. Ah came here while ah wait t' meet with th' Cardinal. There is much t' do an' little time t' do it in," she said rather cryptically. After a short pause, she continued onward, mostly just because she was terrible at dealing with awkward silences and breaks in conversation.
"Ye say ye have experience dealin' with th' creatures o' th' darke, eh? In th' last twenty-four hours, ah've personally encountered a rogue Lycoinu, about ten or eleven Weezulls, an' heard tale o' a man bein' chased by Urioka. They're gettin' bolder. Fiercer. It's almost as if they're losin' their fear o' men. It truly makes me wonder if those godless leeches have somethin' t' do with it," she mused, a dark expression on her face.
"Ach, but o' course we all know they're th' root o' th' problems. Ye can pull th' weed up a thousand times over, but ye can't truly be rid o' th' pest until ye grab it by th' roots. Ah jest wish we could find their true weakness. Discover their stronghold. Especially after th' tragedy that happened up at..." With a bit of a start, she seemed to realize that she had been talking for a while without really paying attention to what she was saying. Inwardly, she cursed herself. Although Father Timothy James hadn't dropped a title along with his name, she was highly suspect that he was at least an Archbishop. She should really be more respectful and cognizant of what she was saying around someone like that, especially with information like that. Clearing her throat softly, she gave him the polite smile once again. "Aye me, listen t' me ramble on. Forgive me, Father James. Ah'm sure yer a busy man."
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Post by Nitari Windrider on Nov 15, 2019 15:08:14 GMT -6
At first when Fiona spoke it seemed as though he'd made a misstep, perhaps let his tone betray his ambitions a bit too much. She expressed uncertainty, confirming that she was meeting the Cardinal. That's when things got interesting.
"Ye say ye have experience dealin' with th' creatures o' th' darke, eh?" she began, "In th' last twenty-four hours, ah've personally encountered a rogue Lycoinu, about ten or eleven Weezulls, an' heard tale o' a man bein' chased by Urioka. They're gettin' bolder. Fiercer. It's almost as if they're losin' their fear o' men. It truly makes me wonder if those godless leeches have somethin' t' do with it."
Here she paused, her thoughts on humanity's great enemy.
"Ach, but o' course we all know they're th' root o' th' problems. Ye can pull th' weed up a thousand times over, but ye can't truly be rid o' th' pest until ye grab it by th' roots. Ah jest wish we could find their true weakness. Discover their stronghold. Especially after th' tragedy that happened up at..."
She cut herself off there, but he knew what she was referring to. Word of such events traveled quickly regardless of whether or not it was meant to. He imagined she knew more of the grisly details than he did, but he had heard the general shape of it. A village completely destroyed, all the residents killed, fled, or taken. The church had sent countless soldiers and templars in search of where these creatures made their nest but so far had met with frustratingly little success. All they could do, it seemed, was stumble upon a small nest of the vermin and stamp them out one by one before they could flee. The few they had managed to capture had either engineered their escape using whatever darke power they possessed, forced the guards to kill them, or had brought entire villages down around them in the process of one or the other. Pull them up by the roots indeed. Were it only that simple.
"Aye me, listen t' me ramble on. Forgive me, Father James. Ah'm sure yer a busy man."
She believed herself to be wasting his time, then. Authority had its perks, he supposed. He shook his head.
"I don't consider it a waste of time to speak with those on the front lines at all. Your strength and stalwart dedication to the light of the Three bring honor to Kalyssia. We will need you and everyone like you if we are to secure the safety of these villages under our care."
His own expression turned as he very clearly pondered what she had said earlier.
"Word reached me of the tragedy you spoke of. It is easy to become angered by the barbarous actions of these vermin but in such times I try to remember that a wise man once asked me 'What is light without dark?' By very nature of the light we bring to the world there will always be dark forces of some manner or another threatening what we are sworn to protect. These creatures are strong, yes, and the havoc they can wreak is a terror on the hearts of all of us, but they can be beaten. We will beat them and send them crawling back to the dark pit whence they came. You and I will find where they are hiding, Templar Fiona, and we will tell them to give our regards to oblivion, but in the meantime we must be vigilant and we must keep shining our light for as it is written the world is in desperate need of it."
A man came in just then, a nondescript fellow wearing robes that marked him as a priest of no particular standing. He stammered, visibly resisting the urge to make a nervous gesture such as wringing his thin hands or move his fingers through his short brown hair to comfort himself.
"F-F-Father James? Y-Your presence is requested. They told me you would know what that meant."
Father James nodded.
"Thank you. I was expecting this very summons."
He turned to Fiona.
"As you say, I am indeed a busy man. It was a pleasure speaking with you."
With that he turned politely and walked calmly out of the room. Another thing she had said was true of both of their lives as well. There was indeed much to do and little time in which to do it.
Following his departure the nondescript man turned to Fiona.
"Lady F-Fiona? The C-Cardinal is asking for you."
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Post by Mini on Nov 16, 2019 14:01:44 GMT -6
Fiona was genuinely surprised to hear that voicing her concerns for the general state of things was not coming off as a waste of time to someone up as high up the chain of command as Father James had to be. Her usual conversations with the people in higher standings such as these never felt this personable, save for a very select few folks. The difference between serving inside the relative safety of the Church as a priest or bishop or such and serving the Three out in the world was as different as night and day. It didn't take long for Templars and all the rest to adopt a similar distrustful, hardened, and rather bleak outlook on the way of the world. When voicing these frustrations to, say, a priest who hadn't left the safety of town for four months, differences of opinions very often arose.
Father James' words actually struck an inspirational chord with her frustrated and worried heart. His words came across as honest, earnest, and spoken from the heart. Hearing him say with confidence that darke creatures like vampyrs and the like could and would be beaten lifted a heavy weight from her shoulders that she hadn't realized had been there.
Before she could respond, a twitchy and nervous priest barged into the sanctuary from behind them. He looked as if the slightest breeze might knock him over. As fate would have it, he had a message for Father James that would summon him away.
"Oh no, sir. Th' pleasure was all mine," Fiona said in response, rising to stand along with him. "Thank ye for takin' th' time t' listen an' speak with me on such matters. Yours words ring loudly an' shine true. 'Tis a blessin' t' hear such faith placed in a soldier such as me. May th' blessings o' The Three rain down upon ye an' all that ye endeavor towards." She made a fist over her heart and bowed to him as he turned to leave.
Once he was gone, her attention shifted towards the nervous priest. He was still there? Oh, right. Her meeting with the Cardinal was about to happen. She nodded politely to the nervous priest and gave him what she hoped came across as a soothing smile. "Aye, aye, keep yer heid. Erm, Ah kin find th' way there on my own. Ye kin jist go back t' whitever ye were busy doin' then. Thank ye much fer deliverin' th' summons."
Smiling, she turned to slip past the man before he had a heart attack at her words (only half of which he had probably understood, realizing that perhaps her uneasiness at his nerves had caused her accent to slip out a bit more than she had meant for it to). As she walked on towards where she knew the Cardinal would be waiting for her, she reflected back on the conversation she had shared with Father James. "We must be vigilant and we must keep shining our light for as it is written the world is in desperate need of it."
"Aye, that it is," she whispered to herself as she started climbing a long set of stairs. "Now more than ever..."
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Post by Nitari Windrider on Nov 18, 2019 18:59:45 GMT -6
Father James made his way through the halls of the cathedral at a pace that was deliberately unhurried. If anyone thought he was in a rush it would draw attention where he'd rather it not be drawn. As he went along he passed a few priests and acolytes, to whom he gave a polite nod. They gave their respects in turn, of course, but he had no particular interest in such things just now. He ordinarily enjoyed being respected, but he was on his way to tend to something far more important.
When he reached the stairs leading to the subterranean levels of the cathedral he surreptitiously checked to make sure he wasn't followed. The corridors down there were winding, of course, but he very much needed what happened next to be as out of sight as possible, which was why he'd chosen to conduct this particular business in one of the most out of the way corners of the lower levels. After taking several extra turns to ensure he wasn't being observed he knocked at a simple but sturdy wooden door. A soldier opened it for him and he entered a dimly lit room within which lay a mass of scales and rope, wriggling in its bonds but only succeeding in drawing the eye to a sack tied around what could only be the creature's head. The muffled sounds from within the sack confirmed that the creature wouldn't be making any unwelcome noises, which was very much a necessary precaution.
"I see our guest is awake," Father James commented.
"Yes, Your Grace," the soldier said, his words very much at attention even if his body was not, "I sent a messenger the moment she regained consciousness."
"Excellent."
~*~*~
Across the village in a second floor room D'Mytri woke slowly, his mouth dry and his head hurting. He got himself up and scooted into the corner, the relative darkness therein providing sanctuary from the ray of sunshine that was streaming in the window. Once the headache started to pass he took stock. He was hungry. He could feel his new g'lath downstairs working and almost summoned her with the psychic thread that connected them, but stopped himself. He'd drank from her too recently. If she showed too many signs of losing blood everything would come undone. He would have to find more. A stable network of humans to feed from would improve his situation dramatically. For now, he would have to go downstairs and see if there was any food available. Less energy efficient but also less likely to reveal his true nature. He got himself up and straightened his clothes, taking a moment to let his eyes get used to the blinding light of the sun before emerging into the hallway. As he opened the door he debated putting together an ubrekk to make himself look like he'd gotten more color back or something but decided against it. He felt better as it was and was likely to look it so why feature that might concern a human observer would be simply a sign that more rest would be needed to complete his recovery. That would do just fine.
As he descended the stairs to the common room he noticed that there were more people around. A few groups seated here and there talking amongst themselves that had arrived at the same plan of action he had. He didn't immediately see Cassidy but he could feel her nearby and concluded she was in the kitchen or waiting tables or something. D'Mytri chose a seat at a table not too far from everyone else but far enough to not be intrusive and sat to collect himself and get a feel for what one was supposed to do to order food in such a place as this.
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Post by Mini on Nov 18, 2019 20:43:05 GMT -6
The common area at Teague's was already starting to carry a much different vibe than when D'Mytri had first arrived earlier that morning. A roaring fire was already burning brightly in the fireplace, around which were gathered several older folks in rocking chairs. They had gathered around what appeared to be a very heated game of checkers between two men. The onlookers were rather loudly sharing tips, tricks, advice, and all around sagely inputs of "well, if I were playing, I certainly wouldn't have done that!" and "don't you know what the goal of the game is? It certainly ain't to be losing all of your pieces!" followed by commentary such as "I haven't seen a move that stupid since that time I..." that quickly lapsed into stories from way back when that had nothing at all to do with checkers, game playing, or fireplaces.
A few curious looks came D'Mytri's way as he came down the stairs and sat alone at a table. A small group of middle-aged women who more than likely comprised a large section of the village gossips leaned in closely and took turns whispering in each other's ears and stealing glances at the strange, pale, and rather ruggedly handsome "if you like that sort of sculpted yet scruffy kind of look, I mean" man who was new to the village. A few of the men glanced his way on occasion, but nobody made any effort to come over and introduce themselves to him. On the other hand, nobody seemed to be overly concerned that there was a new face at Teague's either, which was probably exactly what D'Mytri wanted.
A loud sigh sounded from behind D'Mytri. A bored girl who looked no older than sixteen had approached him, halfheartedly holding a pencil and a pad of paper in her hand. She had long black hair that was pulled back into a messy bun. She wore a white blouse, a tightly tied corset, a burgundy skirt, and an apron that had several stains splattered all over it. "Welcome to Teague's, home of the... um... some kinda stupid sandwich name I can't remember. The King Sling... Thing? I don't know. It's just a big fish. Anyway, what d'ya want?" she asked flatly.
"Lilian," came the warning from a very deep, booming, and gruff voice from behind the girl.
Lilian let out a squeak as the color drained from her face. She whirled around and came face to face with a man who was easily twice her size. How a man that large had managed to seemingly appear out of nowhere was a mystery. He stood at least six and a half feet tall and seemed to be made of pure muscle. The short-sleeved black shirt he wore bulged slightly as his muscles flexed with every slow and steady breath he took, and he somehow managed to make wearing a flour-stained apron look macho. His impressive black beard obscured much of his face, but his dark brows furrowed in slight annoyance as he looked down at the young girl.
"Uncle Teague! Where did you even--"
"We've been through this, Lilian. That is not how you speak to a customer, especially a new one," he growled softly, his voice sounding as if gravel itself had come to life. He nodded towards D'Mytri, then folded his arms across his chest in a manner that made his biceps bulge. "This man is a newcomer to our village, and more importantly he is our guest. If you want to speak to your friends with that kind of attitude, then that's one thing, but that tone is completely unacceptable for a server."
"But Uncle Teague, I was just--"
"That's your last warning for today. From now until dinner, I want you to go slice potatoes."
Lilian looked mortified. "Slice potatoes?! But--"
"No but's, missy. I'm not paying you to slack off and flirt with the soldiers when they saunter in. You're here to work."
"B-But--" Lilian protested, turning bright red.
Teague grunted something that might have been a word and simply stared her down.
Looking quite huffy, Lilian grumbled something under her breath, shoved her pad and paper into her apron, and stormed off in the direction of the kitchens.
Teague sighed heavily, scratching the back of his head. He turned to face D'Mytri. "Teenagers," he said, shaking his head. "Give my eldest niece a job, my brother said. It'll be a great learning experience, he said," he groaned. "At any rate, my apologies to you, sir, for having to witness that. Please don't hold it against the girl. This is only her second day on the job. I believe she thought she would be spending far more time flirting and eating me out of house and home than actually, heavens forbid, showing up and doing real manual labor," he said with a chuckle.
"You're the one who just booked a room with us this morning, right? Cass mentioned it when I came in. The name's Teague, and yes, before you ask, I am the Teague of Teague's," he stated with a hearty laugh, holding out a hand towards D'Mytri.
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Post by Nitari Windrider on Nov 21, 2019 19:41:31 GMT -6
D'Mytri hadn't been sitting there all that long before he was approached by someone who didn't look like they wanted to be there at all. Her flat and disinterested tone confirmed that impression immediately. Was she some kind of slave labor or something? Did humans do that kind of thing? He didn't want to let his prejudices run way with him, but that did seem exactly like the sort of thing humans might do.
He hadn't had a chance to even consider forming a response when a mountainous person appeared behind her and gave her the most calm but unyieldingly stern telling off he'd heard in rather a long while and sent her to the kitchen to slice potatoes. This, apparently, was a fate worse than death in this line of work but he decided he didn't have the courage to ask the questions necessary to understand the girl's reaction as she stomped off toward the kitchen.
"Teenagers," the man said ruefully as if that explained everything, "Give my eldest niece a job, my brother said. It'll be a great learning experience, he said."
From the sound of the man's groan this had not been as good a decision as it had been made out to be.
"At any rate, my apologies to you, sir, for having to witness that. Please don't hold it against the girl. This is only her second day on the job. I believe she thought she would be spending far more time flirting and eating me out of house and home than actually, heavens forbid, showing up and doing real manual labor."
He chuckled at his own joke. D'Mytri had opinions about this stemming from what would be done to such a youth where he was raised, but he kept them to himself and smiled politely as if he'd gotten the joke.
"You're the one who just booked a room with us this morning, right?" the man continued, "Cass mentioned it when I came in. The name's Teague, and yes, before you ask, I am the Teague of Teague's."
Teague held out a meaty hand to him, in a jovial mood once again. D'Mytri took it and gave the man a firm handshake, emulating a merchant he'd seen in a human city once.
"Dmitri Noster," he offered, sticking to the name Fiona might use later on, "Templar Fiona found me in a rather unfortunate state and delivered me to your care. She said this was the best inn in Cairnbaan."
All true enough. He chose to leave out the part about her opinion of Cassidy as it didn't seem relevant to his dealings with this man. No reason to assume the man didn't also think well of Cassidy, of course, but no reason to seem like he had more than a reasonable level of interest in her either.
"If you don't mind my asking, who's Jerry?"
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Post by Mini on Nov 21, 2019 21:47:02 GMT -6
Teague was impressed by D'Mytri's surprisingly strong and firm handshake. He never tried to judge a man by his stature alone, but he had thought to himself that this small one seated all by his lonesome did seem a bit on the small and feeble side. Looks weren't everything, as was evident by his handshake. There was strength hidden under that pale skin. He leaned in a bit closer, bushy eyebrows rising impressively high as D'Mytri mentioned that he had been discovered by one Templar Fiona.
"You don't say! Surely you don't mean High Templar Fiona--" he paused for a scant moment as his voice rose into a scarily accurate and impressive falsetto tone. "-- 'an' don't ye bloody be forgettin' th' HIGH part in that there title'--" He cleared his throat before continuing in his own deep timbre. "--of Kalyssia?" Here he grinned broadly. "Aye, she's a regular around these parts, especially this time of year. I don't think she's actually stationed here, per say, but it does more or less seem to be her home territory as of late. It don't surprise me none that if you found yourself in a spot of trouble that she's the one who found you. She's done a great deal of good for the people of Carinbaan. She's good at what she does, that's for sure and for certain," he finished with a nod.
As the casual conversation drifted onward, D'Mytri moved on to ask a simple and innocent sounding question. This question caused Teague's mammoth frame to tremble in mirth as he laughed. Several interested denizens of the tavern turned to look their way, but they soon shrugged and returned to their drinks, food, and own attentions. As his laughter subsided into chuckles, Teague pulled up a chair across from D'Mytri.
"Ahh... noticed the sign out front, did you?" he started, a bright twinkle in his eyes. "What you need to know before I begin is that Jerry McGillivray happens to own the second best inn in all of Carinbaan. It's a bit smaller than this building, and it lies clear on the other side of town, a place called The Last Outpost. Thinks he's all clever with that name, you know, since this is one of the real last settlements in this direction and he lies a bit closer to the southern end of town than I do," he chuckled, stroking his chin. Or rather, it looked as though that was the action he was trying to perform. There was so much beard in the way that one had to wonder if there was really any way for him to reach the chin hidden underneath.
"Jerry, you see, is quite the competitive man, and he is quite a man of honor. I've never known Jerry to once step out of anything once he's given his word. The incident in question happened several months ago, see. The rest of the world was probably celebrating autumn and all the lovely things that are supposed to come with it, but we hearty mountain folk were already weeks deep into First Winter. Oh, what a bloody awful blizzard we had. Two feet of snow had fallen in less than a day's time, we estimated, 'fore of course nobody could see the sun or stars. Wasn't much to do other than sit around eating, drinking, and huddling close to the fire. This was exactly what was happening over at The Last Outpost, I suppose, when one of the regulars over there gets to comparing Jerry and myself. I wasn't there, of course, so I can't confirm any of this, but from what I was told, the conversation grew quite heated. By this point in the night, many drinks had already been consumed, and many more were downed during the course of the argument. I believe that Jerry shared many choice opinions about the differences in how we each run our respective businesses. A challenge was issued - all these things were easily enough said in the company of friends, but that Jerry would never be man enough to tell me those things to my face."
Teague paused to chuckle. "This went on for quite some time. The night grew longer. More drinks were passed around. Bets and wagers were taken. At some point, an incredibly intoxicated Jerry declared that he would shame everyone there and take them up on their ridiculous challenge, for of course he was plenty man enough to confront me after all these years, and he would do them one better - he would march straight over here and tell me every single thought and opinion he had of me, and he would do it stark naked."
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Post by Nitari Windrider on Nov 21, 2019 22:12:46 GMT -6
D'Mytri chuckled at Teague's rather excellent impression of Fiona.
"The very same."
They were talking about Fiona a little longer before finally it was time to ask the question. Who is Jerry and why is there an addendum to the sign out front calling him out? Teague didn't answer at first, his massive form trembling. Was it a sore subject? Had he made some kind of mistake? Nothing of the sort. The giant innkeeper erupted in laughter and the entire inn seemed to look over and try to discern what had entertained him so. The attention made D'Mytri a little nervous all told but soon enough the other patrons lost interest and Teague's laughter died down.
"Ahh... noticed the sign out front, did you?" he began, his eyes dancing with contained laughter, "What you need to know before I begin is that Jerry McGillivray happens to own the second best inn in all of Carinbaan. It's a bit smaller than this building, and it lies clear on the other side of town, a place called The Last Outpost. Thinks he's all clever with that name, you know, since this is one of the real last settlements in this direction and he lies a bit closer to the southern end of town than I do."
He stroked his beard a bit. It looked like an idle motion, as his face hadn't really started reflecting thought. Maybe his face itched? It was difficult to tell and there was no time to ask even had D'Mytri the inclination to do so as the tale began in earnest just then.
"Jerry, you see, is quite the competitive man, and he is quite a man of honor. I've never known Jerry to once step out of anything once he's given his word. The incident in question happened several months ago, see. The rest of the world was probably celebrating autumn and all the lovely things that are supposed to come with it, but we hearty mountain folk were already weeks deep into First Winter."
So this part of the world was buried in snow at least half the year, then. Lovely. No wonder he'd managed to lose his bearings so thoroughly. This would also complicate his eventual task in this area.
"Two feet of snow had fallen in less than a day's time, we estimated, 'fore of course nobody could see the sun or stars. Wasn't much to do other than sit around eating, drinking, and huddling close to the fire. This was exactly what was happening over at The Last Outpost, I suppose, when one of the regulars over there gets to comparing Jerry and myself. I wasn't there, of course, so I can't confirm any of this, but from what I was told, the conversation grew quite heated. By this point in the night, many drinks had already been consumed, and many more were downed during the course of the argument. I believe that Jerry shared many choice opinions about the differences in how we each run our respective businesses. A challenge was issued - all these things were easily enough said in the company of friends, but that Jerry would never be man enough to tell me those things to my face."
D'Mytri would never admit to being lost in a story but he was as lost in this tale as he was in reality. Jerry thought Teague was an inferior innkeeper so he caused an incident involving clothes? Also what would the purpose be in not telling Teague to his face? Would it not benefit them both to exchange knowledge and ideas to bolster the state of inncraft? Was inncraft even a thing? Goddess humans were weird beyond all understanding.
"This went on for quite some time," Teague continued, "The night grew longer. More drinks were passed around. Bets and wagers were taken. At some point, an incredibly intoxicated Jerry declared that he would shame everyone there and take them up on their ridiculous challenge, for of course he was plenty man enough to confront me after all these years, and he would do them one better - he would march straight over here and tell me every single thought and opinion he had of me, and he would do it stark naked."
By this time a drink had been brought out for him and he'd taken a drink as Teague outlined a very compromised Jerry's grand plan to prove whatever it was that made humans do stupid things. He choked on that drink when the specifics of that plan were brought to light. He coughed a little and sputtered and recovered enough to give Teague an incredulous look.
"Naked? Through two feet of snow? Across the entire town? You jest."
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Post by Mini on Nov 21, 2019 23:06:49 GMT -6
The choke. The spluttering. The subtle way an entire mouthful of D'Mytri's drink very nearly spat across the table but at the very last possible moment somehow didn't. The crazed, deranged, and incredulous look that read "you've absolutely got to be pulling my leg." The last two words of Teague's tale had had their desired effect on this newcomer. Teague couldn't help but let out an exuberant laugh as D'Mytri challenged his story. Grinning broadly, he clapped his hands together.
"Ho ho! You would think that, wouldn't you? Who would be daft enough to go out anywhere without at least four layers of clothes in two feet of snow in the middle of a blizzard, right? But remember what I said at the very beginning of this story? Jerry McGillivray is a proud man. He had given his word, and by The Three, he was going to stick to it," Teague continued, leaning back in his chair.
"So, sure enough, Jerry disrobed. It is my understanding that he did this right in the middle of his own tavern without a single care in the world. I have it on good authority that he then proceeded to down two full pints of ale, kicked the front door of his place open, and marched across town with a whole gaggle of drunk, bewildered, and slightly concerned onlookers following behind him. Despite all the odds, he walked the entire way here. One way or another, he worked his way from there to here and by the time he got to my front door, he was naked. My sneaking suspicion is that he did not, in fact, walk all the way here naked, but stripped down once he got to the front door. Those who were present for the whole thing seem to have rather foggy memories of the exact timing of events, of course."
Here, Teague both sighed and chuckled at the same time as he recalled his own memories. With a shake of his head, he continued on. His voice trembled from the effort to keep from laughing. "You can imagine my shock when my own front door is shoved open and in staggers Jerry, completely naked for all the world to see. His body was trembling and he was soaking wet from all the snow that had gathered around him. 'TEAGUE!' he screams as loud as possible, pointing at me. "TEAGUE, THERE YOU ARE!' I was behind the counter at the time. He starts screaming utter nonsense at me with a giant smile plastered on his face the whole time. His friends rushed in, trying to both stop him and throw blankets, jackets, scarves, whatever they had handy on him, but he shoved them all away, tells them to shut up, and just walks straight inside. 'Teague, I'm twice the man you are! I've been running my business twice as long! I have twice as many recipes! Twice as many beers! Twice as many ales!' He wouldn't shut up about twice this and twice that," he said, rolling his eyes.
"By this point, I had heard more or less what had happened from those who had followed him inside and were desperately trying to get him to calm down and put some clothes on so he wouldn't catch his death of a cold. He just kept right on going until he was close enough to jab me in the chest with his pointy little finger, the whole time spouting off more rubbish. 'Well? Aren't you going to say something?' he finally said. He hadn't noticed that it had gone very quiet in the tavern here, you see. He was too busy staring me down."
Teague's voice grew uncharacteristically quiet. He leaned in closer before speaking again. "Finally, I said to him in a very quiet voice, I said, 'Jerry, whatever you do, please don't turn around.' Confused, because this was not what he expected to hear, he starts to turn... and sees Cassidy standing in the doorway to the pantry, holding a crate of jelly jars, staring straight at Jerry and all of his glory. She was... ohh, she was red as a tomato, she was. You see, Cassidy never worked late evenings. It was only ever me. Nobody thought she would be there. On account of all of the snow, though, I wouldn't let her walk home alone. Too dangerous, I said. Nobody should be out in this. I talked her into spending the night, because of course we had nobody here so she had her pick of the rooms, but bless her heart, she had wanted to do something useful since she was here, so she decided to clean and inventory the pantry before turning in for the night."
Here, Teague had to shake his head and laugh to himself. "Chaos ensued after this. Cassidy screamed and threw the whole crate of jelly at Jerry as she went running back into the pantry, screaming at him at the top of her lungs. I tried to grab him and turn him away from her, though he swears I punched him. At least ten horrified others jumped in the way between the pantry and where Jerry stood, knocking over chairs, tables, and everything in the way. Someone slipped on the broken jelly jars, crashed into someone else, knocked Jerry over, and, well... A bit of a scuffle broke out, but I had the place cleared out in less than a minute. Jerry was unceremoniously carried away, wrapped up in at least three jackets, two scarves, and a hat.
"To this day, I'm not sure how the idiot didn't wind up losing his toes and, hrmm, other tender and exposed bits of himself to frostbite. He was quite ill afterwards, though. It was three days before he dared to show up over here to make an effort to apologize. He had the unfortunate timing to show up when Cassidy was here, though, and..." Teague made a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a guffaw. "Let's just say that both of them do their best to avoid each other," he chuckled, leaning back in his chair once more. "And that, my friend, is why Jerry now has his own special sign outside of my tavern."
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