Tomb of the Wretched God (IC)

[Chainsaw Hobbit]

It is a busy evening in the inn and tavern known as the Tangled Web. Outside, rain pours down on Mistspire, blasting away the thick blanket of fog. Dozens of voices blend into a dull murmur, and the scent of cheap ale is thick in the air. In the rafters above, a human and an elf duel with wooden poles while chatting causally, and to the side two dwaves are arm-wrestling. One would hardly guess that only two days ago, an earthquake shook the city to its core, damaging both property and life.

That being said, the mood of the place isn’t entirely unaffected. In a corner, a somber man who presumably lost a friend or relative is drowning his sorrows in dwarven vodka, and the bartender seems to have recently lost an eye. His remaining eyes is glaring at the crack in the wall caused by the earthquake, and the newly replaced windows.

[Mordae]

A human male in his mid-twenties sits in one of the booths near the cracked wall. With the place so crowded this night, there was no other place to be had, so he does his best to ignore the steady dribbling of water from the rain outside, which cascades down from the wall and runs under the table and across the floor. Tucking a loose strand of brown hair behind his right ear, he continues to gnaw at the remains of a turkey leg while slugging down his third tankard of the Web's "finest."

[Sploosh]

A large shouldered man sits near the fire and futiley attempts to stay warm. His plain clothes are drenched and drip onto the already soaked floor and his short black hair is plastered to his head. Occasionally, his face will turn enough that his orcish heritage is visible, in additon to a deep and cruel scar.

A mug of "something" rests in his hands and his wide legged posture hints at unrest.

[Chainsaw Hobbit]

The bartender's famous pet - a head-sized floating orb with a toothy mouth, a large central eye, and three additional eye-stalks poking coming out of its top - floats around the tavern. It is a beholderkin named Theodor, who the gruff man somehow managed to befriend.

Everyone has gotten used to the little creature, but today it seems unusually unsettling. Perhaps even menacing.

[SCARY WIZARD]

An elf with lightly tanned skin and hair of deep red sits with a view of the elf and human duelling on the rafters, halfheartedly sipping at some of the local brew and nibbling on leathery jerky. She is making an effort not to look at the beholder, for fear of what its many eyes would do to her.

[Sploosh]

Uncomfortable enough without the irrate beholderkin, Berk turns and asks "What's wrong, Theo?"

[Mordae]

The orc's attempts to interact with the barely domesticated monster are enough to stir the young man's interest. Turning from the ever-dampening wall of his booth, he fixes both chocolate-brown eyes on the odd pair and watches their banter. It's only for amusement purposes--nothing is enough to make him put down his ale, yet.

[SCARY WIZARD]

Aerlyn turns to the source of the question, still making sure not to look upon the beholder. While clearly not fond of the creatures based on word of mouth, she is curious as to what would happen to someone who chose to interact with one without its permission...

[Mordae]

Slowly, the beholder-kin's silent unease begins to work a strange magic on the young man at his booth. One calloused hand slips from his half-empty tankard to reach for the pommel of his heavy sword, as though to reassure himself that the blade is still there and ready. He glances around the rest of the bar, looking to see if there is perhaps another source for the pint-sized eye-beast's strange behavior.

[Chainsaw Hobbit]

Later that night ...

The sun has gone down and eyelids are getting heavy. The bar is now mostly empty, the only lingerers being Aerlyn, Berk, and Caius. The rain has stopped, and the fog is growing thicker. The beholderkin hangs in the air, seemingly asleep.

The ricketty wooden door bursts open, revealing the silhouette of shaken terrified man. He stumbles in without closing the door behind him, revealing his unkempt grey beard and tattered clothing. It seems that he has been homeless for some time. In his arm is a deep gash.

He staggers up to Caius and grabs is wrist.

"Please," he stammers. "Please! Come quickly!"

[SCARY WIZARD]

Aerlyn's hand hovers over the haft of her axe as the stranger bursts in, but she pauses when she sees that it's just a battered old man.

After determining that he is no threat, she calls from her seat, "Where's the fire?"

[Mordae]

Caius stirs from his ale-induced reverie to the sound of the door slamming against the wall. Before he can open his eyes to focus on the latest disturbance, the old man grabs the swordsman's wrist. Caius immediately leaps to a standing position, feet automatically assuming the well-balanced stance of a trained fighter, and his right hand yanks the well-maintained blade from its scabbard.

The point does a sinuous dance for a few heartbeats, before Caius realizes the homeless gent is not the real threat. "By the gods, man, have a care how you wake a student of blades." He returns his weapon to its sheath, then takes note of the man's injury. "Some cutthroat in the night? I am no guardsman--not anymore."

[Chainsaw Hobbit]

"No! Not a man, a beast! Come on!"

The wild-eyed homeless man lurches to the door, beaconing you forward.

[Sploosh]

Berk turns to take in the surprising entrance and listens to the conversation that ensues. His mild interest turns to excitement when he hears that the peril is no man, but a beast! A man, has too many moral questions. A beast was easy! Eager to help, he stands up and follows.

[SCARY WIZARD]

The amusements had passed, and Aerlyn still had nothing to do! But the old man was talking about beasts let loose in a densely populated area! And where there were beasts in densely populated areas, there were people who were willing to pay handsome sums for the removal of said beasts.

Aerlyn follows the strangers, ready to grip whatever weapon is the most convenient.

[Chainsaw Hobbit]

The old man walks out through through the doorway, only to be tackled by a twisted, vaguely humanoid black shape. It tears a chunk out of his shoulder with its teeth, before darting into the darkness.

[Mordae]

"Oh, bloody hell," Caius exclaims as the already-injured man's blood pours out once again on the street. His sword already at the ready, the fighter takes off at a cautious lope in the direction the elusive beast had fled. "Where is the night watch when you need them..."

[SCARY WIZARD]

Aerlyn yanks an arrow out of her quiver and readies her bow, taking off after Caius...and the beast. "Who cares?" she replies to the warrior. "They never get the job done without at least one of them ending up belly-up anyways."

[Sploosh]

Berk grunts in surprise and falls back a step at the ambush. The others draw steel and rush off in pursuit. Looking around, he eyes the wounded man up and down, before shrugging and sprinting off after them.

[Chainsaw Hobbit]

You burst through the doorway just in time to see the attacker bolt down an alleyway. Below you, the wounded man is clawing at his shoulder and screaming, his eyes dull with pain. The wet wind carries the sound of a deranged cackle.

[Mordae]

Caius is no healer; the injured man's cries will certainly be heard from within the tavern, and someone is bound to assist. The fighter plunges into the alleyway, sword at the ready and eyes darting across the shadowed terrain to look for the offending beast.

[SCARY WIZARD]

Aerlyn pulls her bowstring back and rushes after the other adventurer and the beast, following the cackling as best her ears - made for such - can.

[Chainsaw Hobbit]

You chase the creature through the streets of mistspire, its cackling thick in your ears. Rain hammers down, soaking your hair so it clings to your neck, chilling you to the bone. After a few minutes of frenzied running, you find yourself at the edge of a ruined crosswalk.

The streets are thick with rubble, and in the middle of the crosswalk is a massive, gaping hole. The emaciated monster scuttles across the rubble unhampered, and disappears into the portal.

[SCARY WIZARD]

Aerlyn inches near the edge of the hole, careful not to fall in. She peers into the depths, straining her elven eyes to get a better look, and aims her bow down it...just in case.

[Chainsaw Hobbit]

The chasm leads down into cold darkness. The monster scurries down the side, making a great deal of noise, until it is out of sight.

[Mordae]

Caius peers over the edge, frowning into the blackness of the abyss. "My eyes cannot pierce the darkness," he complains as he straightens to a standing posture, looking along the street to see if any of the torches lit by the Watch are still burning against the cold rain.

[Chainsaw Hobbit]

The torches have been snuffed out, but some of the lamp-posts pierce the gloom with their warm light.

[SCARY WIZARD]

"Can't...see anything yet." Aerlyn relaxes her bowstring and very gently kicks a bit of rubble into the depths, waiting to hear some clattering.

[Chainsaw Hobbit]

You stare into the abyss, and the abyss stares back. You fell a jolt of dread far colder than the poring rain. A scraping sound seeps up from deep underneath, and is immediately followed by a horrific, inhuman scream.

[SCARY WIZARD]

Aerlyn steps back and pulls her bowstring back once more, waiting for something to come close... Her expression says "try me".

[Mordae]

Caius snags one of the drenched torches and finds a little bit of a dry spot in the entrance to work with flint and steel. It's slow and tedious, hindered by the soaking effect of the rain, but the oil embedded in the fibers of the torch wrapping have kept enough water out that after time he is able to get the fuel to catch. A thick pall of black smoke issues forth from the guttering light as it struggles to get enough oxygen in the wet, confined space.

Unless he sees a distinct threat worthy of Aerlyn's arrows, Caius will proceed in through the opening and have a look around.