2018-04-16, 03:08 PM (ISO 8601)
Re: The Primeval Dark (IC)
24th of Abadius, Sunday - Time: 5:17 am (Morning) / AR 4707 (Winter)
The Lost Coast Road; Sandpoint Hinterlands
The Gap; Point 19: The Sacred Grove
"Well, for the record... I use the term friend loosely. People tend not to think of me kindly." Denil spoke the last word with a shrug, as if he were bewildered as to why that could be so. That wasn't untrue though, the halfling's reputation for generally being unliked was no secret. It may not have even been an exaggeration to say the man had no friends. Knowing that, it did seem somewhat odd how no one bothered to question the unusual proposition at the time. The whole encounter was evidently not as simple as the gruff man boiled it down to be.
Watching the child-witch move towards the door his face grew more and more unsettled, but not speaking out in protest til after she'd said her piece. "Girl, aren't you supposed to be a spell-slinger of some flavor? You can't just go around speaking the names of these creatures outside protected places. They aren't cats-and-dogs, or some shambling earth elemental, their very existence causes chaos. You don't know what your carelessness can dredge up from some Offworlder's arse hole." It was a quiet almost inquisitive vocal gesture, "Hmmm..." The door which Stella stood before slowly opened, revealing on a pitch lightless space beyond the threshold. A towering figure stood motionless within, a man of an unnatural stature which dwarfed that of the old shaman they had seen.
The figure slithered forward, out from the darkness as if he moved upon some frictionless surface. The first rays of morning light illuminated his menacing face. Bleached white and fleshless, his visage was little more than an eyeless rotting skull. Black hair still limply hung from his skull and his attire was regal and crisp. A fine black suite which shown a gleam like satin, a well kept top-hat of exceptional craftsmanship sat carefully placed upon his brow. The halfling stood mouth agape, dumbfounded at the unliving creature before him. "Fawking hell, what in the gods name is that?" The skeletal man, who stood easily eight-feet tall with room to spare quickly raised a pointed finger to the air as if to interject, "No, no. Not what my good man, but -who." His voice sounded with a clarity and accent they had never heard before, for there were no native folk who hailed from the British isles. The looming skeletal man arced his back to bend himself at eye level with the witch, "Pray tell young lady... What did the Waldfrau speak of? If it is knowledge you seek, or perhaps sanctuary from coming storm - look no further. For I am both humble servant, and purveyor of means..." The last word seemed to come out like the hiss of a cunning salesman.
Denil quickly pulled himself together, "We don't know this... thing, kid. Don't believe a word it has to say. My plan will pull through, just believe in me."
֍ Stella XP +50
Last edited by Mornings; 2018-07-08 at 04:15 PM.