[Solomon Kane] Red Vengeance

[gardenphilosoph]

"He was . . . a strange blending of Puritan and Cavalier, with a touch of the ancient philosopher, and more than a touch of the pagan. . . . A hunger in his soul drove him on and on, an urge to right all wrongs, protect all weaker things. . . . Wayward and restless as the wind, he was consistent in only one respect—he was true to his ideals of justice and right. Such was Solomon Kane."

---

AngelOmnipotent...Cassavir D'hanna

Name - Cassavir D'hanna
Rank - Novice
Bennies - 3
XP - 0

ATTRIBUTES
Agility - d8
Smarts - d6
Spirit - d4
Strength - d8
Vigor - d6

Charisma - 0
Pace - 6''
Parry - 6
Toughness - 6

SKILLS
Climbing - d4
Fighting - d8
Healing - d6
Intimidation - d4
Notice - d8
Persuasion - d4
Stealth - d8
Streetwise - d4

EDGES
Ambidextrous (ignore off-hand penalty)
Two-Fisted (ignore multi-action penalty for TWF)

HINDRANCES
Code of Honour (operates within a code of honour)
Doubting Thomas (skeptical, -2 Guts vs supernatural)
Jingoistic (dislikes other cultures, -2 Charisma vs other cultures)

WEAPONS - Damage/RoF/Range/Weight/Notes
Longsword - STR+d8/-/-/8lbs/-
Longsword - STR+d8/-/-/8lbs/-

ARMOR - Location/Protection/Weight/Notes
Leather - torso, arms, legs/1/15lbs/-

POSSESSIONS (ENCUMBRANCE - 31/40lbs)
£3

Chromatism...Oswyn Valentine

Name - Oswyn Valentine
Rank - Novice
Bennies - 3
XP - 0

ATTRIBUTES
Agility - d8
Smarts - d8
Spirit - d6
Strength - d4
Vigor - d8

Charisma - 2
Pace - 6''
Parry - 5
Toughness - 6

SKILLS
Fighting - d4
Guts - d6
Healing - d8
Investigation - d4
Notice - d6
Persuasion - d4
Shooting - d8
Survival - d4

EDGES
Noble (+2 Charisma, Rich, famous doctor)
Rich (£15 starting funds, £300 a year)

HINDRANCES
Bad Eyes (spectacles or -2 Shooting/Notice 5'' away)
Curious (primal need to unravel mystery)
Loyal (will never leave a friend behind)

WEAPONS - Damage/RoF/Range/Weight/Notes
Wheellock Pistol - 2d6+1/1/5.10.20/3lbs/AP 1; 2 actions to reload
Wheellock Pistol - 2d6+1/1/5.10.20/3lbs/AP 1; 2 actions to reload
Main Gauche - STR+d4/-/-/1lb/Parry +1

POSSESSIONS (ENCUMBRANCE - 19/20lbs)
£2.10, waterproofed leather satchel, blank book, ceramic flask, soap, waterskin, writing equipment, a dozen candles, scroll case, medicinal spirits, normal clothing, shot (20)

Kallisti...Lord John Vaux-Harrowden

Name - John Vaux-Harrowden
Rank - Novice
Bennies - 3
XP - 0

ATTRIBUTES
Agility - d4
Smarts - d4
Spirit - d12
Strength - d4
Vigor - d6

Charisma - 6
Pace - 6''
Parry - 2
Toughness - 5

SKILLS
Intimidation - d12
Persuasion - d12
Shooting - d6
Streetwise - d8

EDGES
Attractive (very handsome, +2 Charisma)
---Very Attractive (extremely handsome, +4 Charisma total)
Noble (+2 Charisma, Rich, lord)
Rich (£15 starting funds, £300 a year)

HINDRANCES
Quirk (greets all women with a kiss and a milady)
Vengeful (will kill for vengeance)
Cocky (must spend first round being cocky)

WEAPONS - Damage/RoF/Range/Weight/Notes
Wheellock Pistol - 2d6+1/1/5.10.20/3lbs/AP 1; 2 actions to reload

POSSESSIONS (ENCUMBRANCE - 10/20lbs)
£10, cards, marked cards, powderhorn, gentleman's walking stick, shot (10)

Mikka...Alyssa Wight

Name - Alyssa Wight
Rank - Novice
Bennies - 3
XP - 0

ATTRIBUTES
Agility - d10
Smarts - d6
Spirit - d6
Strength - d4
Vigor - d4

Charisma - 4
Pace - 6''
Parry - 5
Toughness - 4

SKILLS
Fighting - d4
Gambling - d4
Notice - d4
Persuasion - d4
Shamanism - d6 +1 in England
Shooting - d8
Stealth - d4
Streetwise - d4
Taunt - d6

POWERS - Rank/CM/Range/Duration/Effects
Deflection - Novice/-2/Touch/-2 to be hit; -4 with raise

EDGES
Arcane Background (Shaman)
Noble (+2 Charisma, Rich, old family)
Rich (£15 starting funds, £300 a year)
Attractive (very beautiful, +2 Charisma)

HINDRANCES
Quirk (retains childhood girlish behavior, squeamish)
Stubborn (demands things go her way)
Code of Honour (operates within a code of honour)

WEAPONS - Damage/RoF/Range/Weight/Notes
Wheellock Pistol - 2d6+1/1/5.10.20/3lbs/AP 1; 2 actions to reload
Wheellock Pistol - 2d6+1/1/5.10.20/3lbs/AP 1; 2 actions to reload
Rapier - STR+d4/-/-/3lbs/Parry+1

POSSESSIONS (ENCUMBRANCE - 17/20lbs)
£1.35, formal dress, soap, playing cards, water canteen, wineskin, heirloom necklace (fetish), pistol brace, shot (20)

Qualia...Brother Gregory

Name - Brother Gregory
Rank - Novice
Bennies - 3
XP - 0

ATTRIBUTES
Agility - d6
Smarts - d10
Spirit - d6
Strength - d4
Vigor - d4

Charisma - 0
Pace - 5''
Parry - 6
Toughness - 4

SKILLS
Fighting - d6
Guts - d6
Healing - d8
Investigation - d8 +2
Notice - d8 +2, +4 total when searching through evidence
Persuasion - d6
Streetwise - d8 +2
Taunt - d6

EDGES
Alertness (+2 Notice)
Command (+1 rolls to recover Shaken for allies)
Investigator (+2 Investigation & Streetwise, Notice when searching evidence)

HINDRANCES
Elderly (extra skill points, capped strength & vigor)
Poverty (half starting funds, loses money gradually)
Wanted (desertion, expulsion from the Dominican Order)

WEAPONS - Damage/RoF/Range/Weight/Notes
Staff - STR+d4/-/-/8lbs/Parry +1, Reach 1, requires 2 hands
Kris - STR+d4+1/-/-/1lb/-

POSSESSIONS (ENCUMBRANCE - 15/20lbs)
£1.10, waterproofed leather satchel, writing equipment, bible, diary, a mangy hound

ALLIES
The Mangy Hound
Attributes: Agility d8, Smarts d6(A), Spirit d6, Strength d6, Vigor d6
Skills: Fighting d4, Guts d6, Notice d10, Stealth d8, Tracking d10
Pace: 8''; Parry: 4; Toughness: 4
Special Abilities:
Bite: STR+d4
Fleet Footed: Dogs roll d10 when running instead of a d6.
Go for the Throat: Dogs instinctively go for an opponent's soft spots. With a raise on its attack roll, it hits the target's most weakly-armored location.
Size -1: Hunting dogs are relatively small creatures.

storybookknight...Cieran 'Keys' Mac Ronan

Name - Cieran 'Keys' Mac Ronan
Rank - Novice
Bennies - 3
XP - 0

ATTRIBUTES
Agility - d8
Smarts - d6
Spirit - d6
Strength - d6
Vigor - d6

Charisma - 0
Pace - 6''
Parry - 7
Toughness - 6

SKILLS
Climb - d6 +2
Fighting - d6
Guts - d6
Lockpicking - d6 +2
Notice - d6
Stealth - d8 +2 in urban areas
Streetwise - d4
Throwing - d4

EDGES
Acrobat (+2 Agility vs acrobatic maneuvers, +1 Parry)
Thief (+2 Climb, Lockpicking, Stealth)

HINDRANCES
Curious (primal need to unravel mystery)
Greedy (measures worth in coin)
Wanted (vagabond, minor bounty in Ireland)

WEAPONS - Damage/RoF/Range/Weight/Notes
Longsword - STR+d8/-/-/8lbs/-
Main Gauche - STR+d4/-/-/1lb/Parry +1

ARMOR - Location/Protection/Weight/Notes
Leather - torso, arms, legs/1/15lbs/-

POSSESSIONS (ENCUMBRANCE - 29/30lbs)
£.85, lockpicks, grappling hook & line, waterproofed leather satchel, poor quality clothing



---

RED VENGEANCE

---
"There are two roads to Torkertown. One, the shorter and more direct route, leads across a barren upland moor, and the other, which is much longer, winds its tortuous way in and out among the hummocks and quagmires of the swamps, skirting the low hills to the east."
---

In the past few days, weeks, and months, some unseen force has been driving you to the southern roads of rural England, a little-traversed part of your home country. Finding yourself on a meandering path winding over a barren, seemingly lonely upland moor, you spotted five other figures - and instinctively knew that the same force that beckoned you to this out-of-the-way hamlet called to them as well. Whoever they were, they are your allies now.

Now, late one winter's afternoon, you arrive together in the small village of Torkertown, seemingly identical to the myriad other villages that peppered England, and indeed all of Europe. On the boundaries of the village are sprawling farmhouses. Some of these would be owned by a squire and run by tenant farmers, while others were owned by the church, while still others were fortunate enough to be independent of either authority. Like many settlements, there is an orchard in which grow apple and pear trees, now barren in the dead of winter.

The road you are following takes you past the village's graveyard, a little-tended plot of land with various wooden crosses and, for the more wealthy dead, stone headstones or marble slabs. There is a funeral taking place there now. Several dozen mourners, garbed in black, are standing beside an open grave while the priest reads a funeral mass, reciting Biblical verses with weary familiarity.

Make a Notice roll.

The six of you are probably making your way toward the inn to find lodging for the night, unless you have some other priority.

[AngelOmnipotent]

Cassavir D'hanna

"Christ Doc," Cassavir looks across to his newfound acquaintance Mr. Valentine with a rather subdued-but-still-sly smirk on his face, "I never thought you were that kind of man. I can understand that your time at sea was a bit lonely, but she was French..." His voice trailed and a shiver of disgust rose from the base of his spine to torment the back of his neck.

It wasn't until his eye caught the funeral that his stomach churned. He'd never really been a superstitious man, but when the first sight when entering a new town is one wrung with death and sadness it was never going to sit well with him.

Notice Roll
[roll0]
[roll1] Wild Die.

[gardenphilosoph]

Cassavir is the first to notice several fresh graves among the overgrown tomb markers of the rest. The new graves must each be no more than a week old, given the lack of grass on the soil.

[Chromatism]

Oswyn Valentine

"My dear Mr D'Hanna..." The Doctor's face is drawn with an air of sombre seriousness, interposed with the twitch of an ill guarded smile. "As a Doctor I am bound by oath to help those unfortunates in aid of medical need." Subtly the grin begins to crack, his slender features breaking into an expression of world knowing humour. "But you saw yourself that she wished for a thorough examination. And while, I must say, I am rather attracted to His Majesty's coin, how could a gentleman such as myself turn down the Lady's requital for services rendered? I merely accepted in a professional, though I admit, somewhat eager capacity."

For a moment's consideration his fingers toy with the leather satchel suspended from his grip. Just a moment's relaxation upon these apparently well trod crossroads, to rest his weary arm from the weight of his profession. Though sight of hearth and succor do make a strong compulsion for one last push, the Doctor's bespectacled gaze finally alighting upon the macabre events transpiring within the small village graveyard.

Icy fingers creep along his spine, his fist rising to grip the lapels of his overcoat, holding them tight in uncomfortable proximity of such events. "Despite that Mr D'Hanna, there are always those to which I arrive too late. Shall we sally towards the inn? I dislike lingering around the remnants of the ended. More so should it be natural affliction rather than those fallen bravely. T'is little more than sad memories."

Notice Roll
[roll0]
[roll1] Wild Die

[AngelOmnipotent]

Cassavir D'hanna

He couldn't help but sigh and shake his head. "You can cover it up with as many big words as you like jolly good, old boy but it still doesn't change the fact that you shagged a French whore who probably came to you complaining about the same thing you took home with you." A quick jovial punch to the arm and the conversation was done.

It took quite a bit to make Cassavir smile these days, but his aged face spoke volumes of the good times he once must have had. His reasoning for travel in the first place wasn't one of pleasantries so he usually kept himself to himself. Perhaps it was the company of someone who outshone his own intelligence, keeping him on his toes, that spurred on an enthusiasm for friendship. Besides there was only so much talking to yourself that you could do without starting to doubt your own sanity; a welcome reprieve, even if it was from a man who was as likely to shoot you as he was to heal you.

"Looks like they've had a few losses around here lately." He sighed. It didn't bode well. "However I still need to rest my feet and stuff my face. We've been walking for too long without a decent meal. Let's go." One hand resting on the well-polished hilt of his sword and the other tipping his hat forward over his brow, Cassavir strolled towards the inn and tried to pay no further mind to the dead.

[storybookknight]

Keys has been wandering the countryside for some weeks now, staying in whichever hayloft is convenient, stealing chickens from the crofters and fruit from the trees, all the while following a dream. Ever since his old gang was gaoled, he'd been seeing a dark man in his dreams - or a bright one, he was never sure. Usually in winter he'd find a larger city to hole up in, but for one reason or another, he always thinks of that man when he chooses a fork in the road, and somehow finds a reason to stray a little further from the relative comfort of the cities and their full granaries. Without even knowing it, Cieran mac Ronan has reached Torkertown.

Keys looks the part of the vagabond wholly, for his clothes are ragged and soiled. Lacking the wherewithal or the inclination to spend money for a bath, the body beneath is equally fragrant and stained. However, the battered leather jerkin that doubles as a winter court is well maintained, as are his boots, and though the scabbard to his blades are cracked and scarred they are well oiled. Keys has cut himself a staff to walk with, and as he passes people leans on it all the more heavily, to seem more infirm than a wolf among the sheep ought.

Though it was not his usual wont, today Keys was thinking that it might be nice to put some real food in his belly, and to trade his lice for the local bedbugs. More to the point, he'd not had a beer in a few days, and the merchant's purse he'd nicked this morning should do nicely to remedy that very situation.

[Kallisti]

Jack Vaux-Harrowden

Jack strolled confidently into the town, cane in hand and pistol stowed in his jacket. He headed for the tavern, checking his hip-flask. Wine, check, which just left women and song. He began to whistle a jaunty tune under his breath. Soon enough he'd know why he kept having those strange dreams, and the journey had been interesting--and in more than a few cases, profitable. People rarely noticed the markings on his deck, and fools and their money were soon parted.

[Qualia]

Brother Gregory

The aged monk turned his head to Cassavir, "Mon dieu my dear D'hanna, I must warn you to guard your tongue, lest the devil take advantage of your blasphemy." He turns back to the graveyard, and makes the sign of the cross. "I think the inn may be a little subdued tonight."


Notice roll [roll0]
Wild die [roll1]

[AngelOmnipotent]

Cassavir D'hanna

"Oh... you're kidding me." The words of resignation seep from his pursed lips as he scowls. He had never liked foreigners but his intolerance was usually overshadowed by an inherent need just to get things done. He figured being light-hearted for the time being would soothe the situation."Should the devil come and try and take my tongue, may he be smote in God's name and cut in two just like everyone else who has tried with malicious intent."

Looking across at Keys, raised eyebrow and shallow nose, Cassavir stills his tongue for little more than a passing comment. "Would you like some money for a bath?"

[storybookknight]

Keys jerks his head around as a stranger addresses him, then sees an honest to god blue-blooded noble, carrying a pair of fine cutlasses that had probably seen use. A mark, in other words, but not necessarily an easy one. After his initial assessment, darting-eyed and solemn, Keys breaks into a mocking grin. "Aye, ser, but 'twere I to take charity from a Protestant I'd have to wash twice now wouldn't I?" Keys sets his hat back at a jaunty angle so the English can see his face and smiles, revealing crooked and yellowed teeth. "Besides, I'd never dream o' inflictin' the gratitude o' the likes o' me on such a lovely and well-mannered bloke as yerself." Keys' words, needless to say, drip with sarcasm.

[Mikka]

Alyssa Wight

Alyssa had no idea how she had ended up in this strange company, and still perhaps naively thought that the dream omens had been just for her, that the others were merely supporting actors in 'her' story.As such, she kept ahead of the group, walking briskly eager to get to the village and still quite fresh as it hadn't been a very long journey from the Isle. She had and was still taking special care to stay proper, walking with both hands lifting up her dress to avoid any chance of mud or dirt soiling her dress. Her ladylike behavior a strange contrast to the weapons strapped around her waist, a twin pair of pistols and a keen rapier in a well-crafted handsome scabbard.

She couldn't help but let out a light chuckle as she heard Cassavirs comment, having considered asking the very same question. Looking over her shoulder, a pretty smile on her face, she curiously eyed the quarrelling pair, oblivious to the mournful funeral ahead.

[AngelOmnipotent]

Cassavir D'hanna

Liking the attitude of the man already, shame about the smell. "I wouldn't call myself a Protestant, exactly. My Father was Irish, as a matter of fact." His mind wandered a little to his childhood, but then back again just as quickly with a faint smile parting his weary lips. "But I would suggest a bath, just so, you know, we're actually welcome here."

[storybookknight]

Keys fakes being taken aback. "An Irish father? Why, ye don't say! In that case, I'll change my opinion o' ye from 'pompous' down to 'daft'. A bath in midwinter? Are ye tryin' to get me killed?" Keys gestures out to the graveyard, and the funeral plots. "Like as not that lot were o'erfond o' bathin' too! My most humble apologies if yer majesty's delicate nose is offended, or yer delicate sensibilities, but I fer one'd rather continue bein' able to breathe the clean air rather'n havin' t' force my breath round a pint o' snot." While Keys acts aggrieved, his internal estimation of the wealth of the character in front of him ratchets upwards a couple of notches. If this lout could afford firewood enough to bathe during the winter, odds were good that he was ton.

[AngelOmnipotent]

Cassavir D'hanna

"I'd be more concerned about offending this beautiful young lady..." Pistols. Sword. He even thought he spotted a pair of worn-in leather boots under the frills of such a sublime dress; maybe lady wasn't the best of words to have used. "...that just happens to be travelling with us. Do you have no shame?" Once again, checking his own folly. "Wait, nevermind."

Another smirk—perhaps today was going to be a good day afterall.

[storybookknight]

Keys promptly pops one finger in his mouth, lifts it to test the wind, then keeping one hand on his blade to keep it in its scabbard hops, skips, then somersaults over to stand directly downwind, continuing his motion to land in an overly florid bow directed at the lady in question. "My humblemost apologies to ye, madame; I am ashamed to say that I did not notice thee, as thine radiant presence was obsculated from me by this gentleman's ego." His language isn't precisely correct, but it's hard to tell whether or not he's doing it on purpose for the laughs. "Allow me to make introductions - I am Cieran the Bold, defender of fair maiden's hearts and traveler extraordinaire! My hand and blade are eternally at your service." He smiles winningly, again displaying shockingly bad teeth.

[gardenphilosoph]

The group's jovial chatter continues to mask the fog of recent death that masks the town, but as they continue to approach the inn on the other side of the village's green, it becomes harder and harder to ignore that things are, in fact, not right.

Beyond the church, an old yet imposing stone structure, stand several small cottages, each with a freshly whitewashed cross on its door. A woman standing in the door of one crosses herself, before going inside and closing the door rapidly.

Across the village green, close to the inn, stands a large house. It is no doubt owned by someone of wealthy and standing. Outside, a cart is being loaded with furniture while a woman dressed in black looks on with tear-filled eyes.

The cottages that make up the predominant housing in Torkertown are mainly stone-built buildings with thatched roofs or timber structures with a wattle-and-daub walls. The occupants are probably a mixture of crafters and tenant farmers, tilling the land of the squire or the Church-owned lands.

The village green, an open area of grass in the center of the village, is common ground and is the location on which the local markets and fairs are held. Currently not in use, a small herd of sheep grazes lazily in the center, unaware of the troubles of the town they inhabit. A gallows stands sentinel over the green, a reminder to all that justice, even in these days of rising banditry and rumored witchcraft, will be served.

Across one side of the green stands the church, encompassed by a low stone wall, within the grounds of which lie the graves of Torkertown's citizens. The wealthier citizens and thus nicer graves lie closer to the church, while the poorer citizens have simple grave markings further away from the building. Though obviously once Catholic, the church seems to have been rededicated as a Protestant place of worship.

Before you know it, you have reached the door of the local inn, The Lamb.

The patrons inside, all male, sip their ale in silence, each with a worried look on his face. The atmosphere is certainly a pained, quiet one.

It will take a Persuasion roll to loosen lips, since the villagers are somewhat reticent with about discussing local affairs with outsiders.

[Kallisti]

Jack Vaux-Harrowden

Jack hurried ahead of the group a ways, ignoring the bickering of his traveling companions. It was nothing new to him.

He looked around the inn, smiling his practiced, charming smile. "At long last, civilization!" He began to ask around, make friends, learn a little about the town, eyes shining keenly above a blithe, clueless smile.

[gardenphilosoph]

The inn patrons are a little suspicious but not unaccepting of the drinks bought for them, but Jack's natural charisma loosens their lips, and they eventually greet the group of travelers with a little warmth and ale, despite their obvious local troubles. They seem accustomed to outsiders, used to having a steady influx of merchants and travelers despite their location along the south London road.

Ask away, and hopefully the patrons will answer.

[storybookknight]

Seeing the white crosses slathered over half the doorways in town, Keys becomes somewhat uneasy. As he looks around the tavern, he decides to ask one critical question before deciding whether or not to just keep walking right through Torkertown and out the other side. "What's happened here? I've heard no reports of the plague, yet ye're markin' houses as condemned." If there's been a plague, Keys fully intends to be gone by nightfall. Villains and Cromwellites, Keys can fight - ill vapors, not at all. If it's something different, though, then he can drink in the nice warm tavern instead of on the road.

[gardenphilosoph]

"What's happened here? I've heard no reports of the plague, yet ye're markin' houses as condemned." "Ther' white crosses aren't fer' markin' the condemned. Folks in these parts be superstitious. They reckon the Devil walks this village, so the crosses are fer' protection. If it be ther' plague...well, I dun' rightly know."

[Kallisti]

Jack Vaux-Harrowden
"The Devil out walking? Well, perhaps I'll finally be able to get rid of this soul of mine. It's not much good to me if drinking and gambling are still on the list of sins! But what would the Devil be doing in a sleepy little village like this to make folks so afraid?"

[storybookknight]

Assured that the plague is not in immanent danger of covering him in stinking pustules, Keys orders a drink. "Devils and foul business, eh? Sounds like a con." Keys snorts. He'd seen roadside charlatans gill cracknob peasants and nobles alike out o' their pocket money time and again. Fer that matter, he'd worked crowds while a charlatan worked their con, now and again - without the trickster's knowledge, often as not. Still, that sort of thing always made his nose itch, least until he'd found out how the shell game worked. "Ye've a lot o' recent dead. If not the plague, then what's caused such an unlucky tale?"

[gardenphilosoph]

"Old John Prestwick, a merchant, is bein' buried today. Died the night before all sudden like, when 'e was walking back from this very inn. He was found in the street last mornin', pale as a sheet.

Three more died like that recently too, same way as poor John. Very mysterious. Some folk are worried it might be th' plague comin' back."

[storybookknight]

At the words mysterious, Keys leans in, further intrigued. As he's traveled the lands, he's mostly found that a so-called 'mystery' can usually be unraveled with a willingness to assume the worst of people supposedly above suspicion and an equal willingness to poke around in places not deemed socially appropriate. "Was Mr. Prestwick's wallet still on 'im, and still full, when 'e was found? Most plagues I know of involve a bit more in the way of buboes. Consumption leaves ya pale, like as not, but that's the work o' years." He looks the man who was walking with the pompous ton over. "Think I overheard the other fella callin' ye Doc. Ye got an angle on this one?"

[Qualia]

Brother Gregory

The Black Friar sits by the fire, warming his old bones as he sups his ale. His mind ponders the reported deaths, trying to put together the details to discover the possible causes.

"Were they all found like that, pale, in the street ... at dawn? If some evil stalks this town, then we expose it to the light."

[AngelOmnipotent]

Cassavir D'hanna

"Some evil? Pah." Cupping his tankard in his hands, letting out a frustrated groan and pushing it away from him, Cassavir runs his weathered fingers back through his slick dark hair. "There ain't nothin' evil about this. Aside from being unlucky, if you could call that evil."

Leaning back in his chair it gives a creak of protest, a lot like the rest of the inn to the blunt intrusion of privacy by the questions flying around. "I say get the Doc to look 'em over. They died of something natural and we'll find out what, and know how to avoid catching it. Simple."

[Chromatism]

Oswyn Valentine

The Doctor leans back within his chair, finding it to creak satisfactorily while he sighs, staring down his spectacles at the group crowding the bar. His writing implements half litter the old wooden drinking table, coupled with a jar containing some arthropod specimen he's plucked from some withered vine upon his travels.

Irritably his lips purse, denied the simple pass time of his naturalism. "Well if you gentlemen must disturb my relaxation, I would of course be obliged to locate the cause of just such an affliction. Not to mention the veritable legions of contagions from which these fine people also claim to suffer. However..."

He smiles slightly, wetting his lips upon the drink. Yet in moments his expression becomes bleak, his attentions turned upon the devil-fearing socialite and host of the current round of frivolities, "Oh dear dear. Good sir, while I am most grateful for your generosity do kindly refrain from ordering another round of mild? You never can be sure quite what the good landlord has thrown back..." With disdain he flicks the glass away, concluding, "Returning to the matter at hand, of course I can find the root of this apparent pox. However to do so I need to make a study of the afflicted or, more grimly still, to make a subject of the recent deceased. Fresh so that this evil may still linger... Not something to be taken lightly."

[Mikka]

Alyssa Wight

"Alyssa Wight. . i'm very honored. . Mister. . Bold? " the young woman replied with a forced yet still charming smile, shrugging her shoulders slightly to indicate that her hands were occupied.

She followed the others into the inn after casting a worried glance towards the marked village doors but quickly got other things on her mind as she stepped into the inn, finding herself the only female under the roof. Her heeled leather boots distinctly heard on the wooden floors as she moved further inside where she looked around for a few moments, unsure of what to do before she finally decided to sit down on one of the unoccupied chairs, keenly listening in on the others as she tried to make her own of what was going on in the village.

[gardenphilosoph]

Any further questions? Where are you guys taking your investigation

[Chromatism]

Oswyn Valentine

"On the same topic, it would also be useful to know when these deaths began to occur. One can't very well conduct a proper investigation in to the matter without all the details."

[gardenphilosoph]

"On the same topic, it would also be useful to know when these deaths began to occur. One can't very well conduct a proper investigation in to the matter without all the details." "Er, couple o' days ago? Time dun' matter very much, doesit, they're dead now." The man takes another long swig out of his cup.

[storybookknight]

Keys quaffs his ale, putting his boots up before the inn's fire. "Sure'n the wind takes the heat right out o' ye. Does a soul good ta abide someplace warm." He casts a jaded and world-weary eye about the tavern. "Far be it from an outsider ta ask you ta air the town's dirty laundry fer all ta see, but a man has ta know - who'd be the most like ta gain from tha passin' o' all these gentle folks? Be they all o' tha same family, or all deeded to pass their belongin's to tha same place in case o' an unnatural demise?" He shrugs and takes another long swallow of the ale. "Once ya can figger who profits from summat like this, the culprit's right enow easy to finger."

[AngelOmnipotent]

Cassavir D'hanna

Getting tired of the elusive nature of the man addressing Oswyn, Cassavir takes it into his own hands using his own charms to sort things out. "I think what the good Doc is saying is that he would like to take a good look at one of the dead. You'll have to forgive the bluntness but there was no warning outside of your village of this blight. Whatever you folks are dropping dead from is not something I'd like to get myself, if you catch my drift."

His smile is almost priceless as he adds a hearty pat on the shoulder along with his comment.

[Kallisti]

Jack Vaux-Harrowden

Jack looked around at his traveling companions, friendly, charming smile still illuminating angelic face. Amateurs. Fine, *be* guileless. I suppose it's quicker, and when you inevitably anger the wrong people I can always just say I barely know you and we were just traveling together for a few days. Hold on. I *do* barely know you and we *were* just traveling together for a few days. Ha...I guess I'm so used to lying even I don't believe me anymore. He looks at the tavern patrons. "I can't say all this talk of corpses and plagues and devils in the night makes my ale taste any better. I'm sure the good doctor will get everything figured out soon enough, he's a real scholar. Or something, I didn't really ask. Who's for a game of darts?"

[gardenphilosoph]

Gonna need some more direction from you guys as to where you are taking this investigation.

[Chromatism]

Oswyn Valentine

The Doctor's finger twitches in annoyance, trailing an irritable groove across the sturdy curing of his leather satchel. His gaze snaps towards the local at the bar, jaw set with lack of patience, curbed only somewhat by Cassavir's quick comment.

Straightening his collar Oswyn stands, carefully packing away the valuables of his hobby. Thin lipped he smiles, speaking dryly and with clipped, barely concealed frustration, "That is precisely what I'm saying. I must make a study of the afflicted, or failing such seek out the local authority to be granted permission to exhume one of the recently deceased to ascertain the nature of this affliction. Though should this reveal itself to be the machinations of some 'devilish' conspiracy..."

He pauses, addressing his sword wielding companion, "... I would feel far more comfortable with a competent sword at my side, Mr. D'hanna. It doesn't do to waste good shot, after all."

Swiftly he makes for the door, only to pause, waiting patiently, "Am I to wander like a suckling lamb fresh to the world, or will one of you gentlefolk show some much coveted initiative while you still hold my patience? While I personally don't have all day, this village might not last that much longer if some possible contagion is allowed to roam where it will. Now if you please..."

[gardenphilosoph]

One of the villagers gets up swiftly, stumbles a step to the right, then straightens himself up. "If yer lookin' for answers, you...you should go ter th'magistrate. I can take yer'.

He walks out the door, not waiting for you to follow him.

[Qualia]

Brother Gregory

Quickly draining his cup, the old monk gets to his feet and draws his cloak around him before heading out after the villager.

[Kallisti]

Jack Vaux-Harrowden

Jack excuses himself and gets up to follow the man.

[storybookknight]

Keys rolls his eyes as the man leaves. It's no skin off my nose, he thought. The doctor'll talk to the magistrate, and things'll be resolved while I sit here warm and comfortable with a stein of ale and my boots by the fire.

Then a peculiar thing happens - Keys' ear starts to twitch. The longer he sits, the more he starts to wonder just what that magistrate might possibly have to say. With a muttered oath, Keys vaults up and leaves to follow, the sole comfort as he leaves the building and runs out into the cold after the villager that he 'forgot' to pay for his drink.

[gardenphilosoph]

The villager leads the group to the door of a sturdily built brick house, and pointed at the door, before stumbling away through the darkness.

[Qualia]

Brother Gregory

The aged monk raises his walking stick and uses it to rap on the door. He then draws his cloak around him to keep the chill wind out of his old bones.