Outskirts of Galath - Entrance
IC: Malto
"Well..." said one of the guards uneasily. He glanced toward the other one as if to ask "What do we do?"
"How do we know it's really you?" the other bursted. His face expressed his joy of finding a clever response.
"Yeah! You could be a Black Dusk member in disguise!" the first agreed. "You'll need to prove that you're really the tournament participents."
Malto was clearly sick of this. Shaking himself fully awake, he pulls out what appears to be a large section of tree trunk from his back. "Well, allow me to demonstrate." Malto smiled. Within a moment, Malto's gentle smile was replaced with an angry one. His expression became that of a raging bull. His posture became hunched, and his arms began to bulge. Taking his staff, he twirled it around and slammed it against the ground, shouting in a deep voice separate of his own. "Down The Mountain!" he casted. The land itself shook, tilted, and rose, slanting toward the gates of Galath. The minotaur was perched on the top, holding onto the staff to prevent sliding down.
The guards began let out small noises. If they had been less terrified, the noises would have been shrieks. "You have two options. You can open the gate, or I can." the beast called down. The guards were all but eager to bang on the gates frantically, and let them in.
Malto pulled the trunk-sized staff from the ground, and the mountain returned into the land. Malto needed to find his way toward that disturbance. It was faint now, but Malto might be able to collect some of it. The hulking figure moved quickly through the gates and toward the Knight's Court Inn.
TAG: Fatscalyman
********************
Speared Grape Inn - Tronfros's Room
Debatra's Identify Effect: Neither the book nor the envelope held any magic of its own, magical residue was fresh on it. It came from a transportation spell of some kind, but the residue wasn't good enough to tell of what kind. Whoever put the envelope there knew to cover his tracks.
IC: Narrator
After casting Identify on the book and envelope, then shaking the book violently t- reveal nothing but dusty pages. Debatra takes the envelope, and begins to open it to reveal another note.
Mr. Debatra Fallin,
You caused quite a bit of commotion at the Inn. We were unable to meet and chat, but your scuffle with the gnome was satisfying. We will meet again soon, and alert you in this manner, as it as proven effective.
-An Impressed Friend
P.S. - Don't worry about the note. We'll take it from you ourselves.
TAG: Debatra
********************
Speared Grape Inn
IC: Raz'nak
The cow became riled up, rushing toward the unconcious bald man. From his position, the man's head had suffered a good beating, and he was losing a fair amount of blood. The position the man was laying suggested that his spine was damaged. His spirit was still very much alive, however. Yet voice reached out to him, and it was from the body. It was like a spirit encased inside of the man. Raz'nak could do nothing but look baffled at the man lying lifeless on the table.
The bartender rubbed his head and began to send a curse or two at the minotaur. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
TAG: Yorgmiester
IC: Malto
"Well..." said one of the guards uneasily. He glanced toward the other one as if to ask "What do we do?"
"How do we know it's really you?" the other bursted. His face expressed his joy of finding a clever response.
"Yeah! You could be a Black Dusk member in disguise!" the first agreed. "You'll need to prove that you're really the tournament participents."
Malto was clearly sick of this. Shaking himself fully awake, he pulls out what appears to be a large section of tree trunk from his back. "Well, allow me to demonstrate." Malto smiled. Within a moment, Malto's gentle smile was replaced with an angry one. His expression became that of a raging bull. His posture became hunched, and his arms began to bulge. Taking his staff, he twirled it around and slammed it against the ground, shouting in a deep voice separate of his own. "Down The Mountain!" he casted. The land itself shook, tilted, and rose, slanting toward the gates of Galath. The minotaur was perched on the top, holding onto the staff to prevent sliding down.
The guards began let out small noises. If they had been less terrified, the noises would have been shrieks. "You have two options. You can open the gate, or I can." the beast called down. The guards were all but eager to bang on the gates frantically, and let them in.
Malto pulled the trunk-sized staff from the ground, and the mountain returned into the land. Malto needed to find his way toward that disturbance. It was faint now, but Malto might be able to collect some of it. The hulking figure moved quickly through the gates and toward the Knight's Court Inn.
TAG: Fatscalyman
********************
Speared Grape Inn - Tronfros's Room
Debatra's Identify Effect: Neither the book nor the envelope held any magic of its own, magical residue was fresh on it. It came from a transportation spell of some kind, but the residue wasn't good enough to tell of what kind. Whoever put the envelope there knew to cover his tracks.
IC: Narrator
After casting Identify on the book and envelope, then shaking the book violently t- reveal nothing but dusty pages. Debatra takes the envelope, and begins to open it to reveal another note.
Mr. Debatra Fallin,
You caused quite a bit of commotion at the Inn. We were unable to meet and chat, but your scuffle with the gnome was satisfying. We will meet again soon, and alert you in this manner, as it as proven effective.
-An Impressed Friend
P.S. - Don't worry about the note. We'll take it from you ourselves.
TAG: Debatra
********************
Speared Grape Inn
IC: Raz'nak
The cow became riled up, rushing toward the unconcious bald man. From his position, the man's head had suffered a good beating, and he was losing a fair amount of blood. The position the man was laying suggested that his spine was damaged. His spirit was still very much alive, however. Yet voice reached out to him, and it was from the body. It was like a spirit encased inside of the man. Raz'nak could do nothing but look baffled at the man lying lifeless on the table.
The bartender rubbed his head and began to send a curse or two at the minotaur. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
TAG: Yorgmiester
