|
|
Post by black379 on Feb 26, 2018 22:27:12 GMT -8
Courcy's knuckles were white, gripping her halberd anxiously. She screwed up her face at the other two as they jested, as if they had known and expected the man on the tower wasn't going to budge. As Blood finally spoke some reason, the hellion harumphed and stomped toward the tower.
Whatever happened, they would deal with it, but they had to actually get to the bridge before they could cross it.
|
|
|
|
Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Feb 27, 2018 15:37:11 GMT -8
/The Boardwalk/
The Party would cross the final few meters to the Tower, and its cobblestoned and seaweed strewn glory came fully into light.
The stones were made of simple limestone, and packed with mathematical care; the stones cut squarely, more like bricks in all fairness. Moss had begun to grow up along its sides, but the clay inbetween the bricks proved to be stalwart to any compromises in its structure.
The light itself, as they'd drawn closer, proved to be a lantern. A wick burned out from a caged bottle of oil, much like the one in Tilly's pack.
The oil lantern jutted out on a sturdy, woody log from the limestone tower, just above a door made of dark red wood, bound by iron. with a vertical handle. Tilly, as they came within about eight feet of the door, may realize it was made of the same wood that had constructed the crate which housed the holy oil.
The door did seem to boast a pickable lock, inset iron just below the handle.
Courcy, on the other hand, might notice the tell tale signs of a door being jimmied open with some bladed object; slight impressions along the right side of the door (Which was also where the knob was located.). The weapon was by no means refined, nor man-made as the indentations were porous and irregular.
To the rest, the door would seem locked and shut. To Courcy; it was rather clear the door would open up if one pulled hard enough.
To both Lekalis and Courcy, there were signs of a scuffle just outside the tower; a few drier marks on the ground that indicated signs of feet being dragged in practiced evasive techniques, and other marks of some webbed long man-like foot with wide set toes having dragged across. Three lines of claw stood out markedly in the floor boards, with a spattering of transcluscent but glistening scales.
Lekalis noted an irregularity in the walls; a nick along the stones, barely noticeable, but a definite shift in the otherwise poignantly clean cuts of the Limestone tower.
Such as it were, the Party stood now, assembled infront of the tower.
\\
/Lekalis/
With a huff and a frown he seemed to relax and approach the door side farthest from where the party approached, standing on its hinged side so that others could approach it freely. He gave it a ponderous gander.
"Seems like whatever carnival happened here, passed through already." He scoffed with some cheek anda smirk as he crossed one leg loosely over the other and pulled his spear to lean against himself.
The Ex-lord jutted his chin to the chipped corner.
"Some sort of fight, a few men, shortswords... My guess, they were caught unprepareds." He squinted and nodded, before clapping his hands together quietly, rubbing some heat into the bare palms.
Then, he sighed with some resignation,
"You ever wonder if we'll ever get a straight fight with no bloody magic involved? I know this land's rife with it but... surely; one simple blade-to-blade fight with bandits... would be refreshing, no?"
Albeit, even he laughed lightly at the impossibility.
He drew quiet then, watching his two comrades for any action to move on or open the door...
\\
|
|
|
|
Post by Vanitypirate on Feb 28, 2018 20:42:09 GMT -8
---
Tilly's eyes passed over the lock, and she grinned eagerly for another chance to show off again in this last expedition of hers. Out of habit, though, her gaze still flitted over the boards and the walls, ever-watchful for potential loot, potential traps...
"Reckon we'd be out of a job if there was never any magic involved; you'd just need a normal band of mercenaries." She shrugged, but, fully taking into account the abilities of her more muscle-inclined, battle-hardened compatriots, she realized the only person who'd be out of a job was herself.
She wished to think of something else-- which wasn't difficult, given the troublingly familiar appearance of claw marks and scales.
She saw it before, on the beach.
"Stars above..." Tilly sucked up a breath in a moment of panic as she looked to either side of the boardwalk, as though expecting the fishfolk to rise up above and swoop in on them.
"The fish-people were here. Let's go hurry on inside, yeah? And stay away from the edges."
She hurried up to the lock, briefly examining it to ensure it wasn't obviously trapped before she would pull on the handle, as to fully discern whether it was truly locked or unlock.
|
|
|
|
Post by black379 on Feb 28, 2018 21:20:08 GMT -8
Courcy nodded to Blood, keen herself for a fight. She briefly regarding the hints of a scuffle, but couldn't discern what exactly had gone on. Even if she was able to discover a victor in the traces, she presumed her party were alone - that there were no allies to the heir out here.
She followed Lekalis and Tilly to the door, and took an extra step from the side of the boardwalk as she was warned. "Fish people?"
The curiosity didn't distract her too much. She expected Tilly would pull open the door, and readied herself to breach the tower.
|
|
|
|
Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Mar 1, 2018 5:00:16 GMT -8
/The Boardwalk/
Tilly's eyes, flicking about as they were, spied a shiny silver chain mired in muck poking out from between two boards just infront of the door. It seems most of the weight got caught in the seaweed below the pier, and the chain itself had largely been stomped into the wood and muddied from whatever had passed over it. It looked to be a chain of a necklace, though what amulet it held was tucked out of sight.
Along the walls, there were no traps nor loot, but higher up; perhaps a meter above the door were soft but deep indentations. Claw marks, as Tilly could easily identify, with the same slight shimmer of scales just below.
Fish folk indeed, it seemed their bellies rubbed along the limestone as they climbed up the tower.
The lock was simple enough, no traps were apparent. While it was locked, The Graverobber could probably crack it open with a glance, so simple was the lock...
With Courcy's own brief regardation of the scuffle, she was able to surmise at least a count of persons. Sort of.
There were at least three pairs of sabatons, based off the slight scratches where the point of the metal boots must've shuffled into the narrow passageway. There was also a hint at a last, less combative pair of prints; a softer overlay in the impressions of the wood, a velvety footpad of sorts.
\\
/Lekalis/
The Ex-Lord shrugged and kept a sharper watch on the surrounding waters, especially so after Tilly's fish-folk remark. He'd guessed as much, but the warning now spoken seemed to only heighten his woe.
"Well now, a normal band of mercenaries wouldn't be so bad now would it..?" He rose a brow, cockily swaying his head left and right as he glanced to Courcy, then Tilly again.
"... Reckon we'd be quite successful, don't you?" He mused with a small hum and sigh, rubbing his hands together as though he were contemplating some delicious meal or conspiratorial plan.
"Fish-people... I've not heard of them near as much; they sound a bit better than swine-folk." He sighed, furrowing his brows as his lips pressed into a fine line, his eyes turning to scan the foggy horizon again.
"Anyone know anything about them..?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Vanitypirate on Mar 1, 2018 6:24:37 GMT -8
Tilly swept down and made to scoop the amulet up in a sweeping motion, somewhat of a difficult maneuver given the longsword and Beansprout in her hands. She used the daggered-hand, hooking it onto her fingers and then wrapping it around her wrist to look at it later. In close proximity, she hoped Beansprout could tell her if the amulet was cursed in its own right.
"I don't know a smidge, 'sides from rumors. And the sodding size of those claw marks." She frowned deeply at the sight of them, and the apparent fact that they could indeed climb.
Tilly prayed that they weren't up top of the tower right then and there.
She gave a wary glance around and brought the vines of Beansprout up to the keyhole, and whispered close with utmost haste,
"Open the lock quick, deary-- press up on all the bitty tumblers, stop when each one clicks just right-- it'll be different for each one."
|
|
|
|
Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Mar 1, 2018 7:39:23 GMT -8
/The Boardwalk/
The Silver Chain had a Silver Circle Locket clasped to the lithe chain, now set about Tilly's wrist just so. The Locket itself was rather shiny, for where it'd been, the only hint of it was a small barnacle and a fleck of seaweed tarnishing its otherwise glimmering surface. There were intricate engravings that seemed to hold no real purpose.
Beansprout, however, seemed to hum with some idle energy; like a flame kept in a lantern. Though when Tilly called upon it, it seemed to strike to life and seemed to tighten a touch as it contemplated her queries.
The first of which, whether or not the necklace was cursed, seemed easy enough; it wasn't cursed. Not even magical, simply silver.
The second was a bit more complicated, and its wriggling vines seemed to warily feel out the opening of the lock for a moment. There was some hesitation, cold feet seemed to settle into the footless dagger.
Then, it coiled its vines together and shot into the hole like a hare to a hole; it wriggled and writhed for a moment, before there was one click, then a second and the vines pulled out. They flexed, then waned, stiffening for a moment.
It seemed this process was a bit taxing on whatever essence powered Beansprout; Tilly's arms would feel a touch heavy from the mutual exertion.
But, the door seemed unlocked.
\\
/Lekalis/
The Ex-Lord watched his Lover dearest with some trepidation and incredulity. For a moment, his eyes taken away from their paranoid glances about the surrounding to linger on her and her words.
"Aye, we'll have to be mindful... of... those..." He slowly paused his words as he quirked an ear up to the wind in an attempt to try and hear what she was whispering to the bizzare dagger.
Its sudden display of magic inspired a risen brow for a moment, then two as he heard the soft clicks and the vines returned to their... Naturally unnatural state.
He cleared his throat, and shifted a bit in his spot as he shook his head, resuming his watch.
"... And just where did you find that little piece of iron then?" He asked whimsically, wondering aloud.
\\
|
|
|
|
Post by black379 on Mar 1, 2018 10:32:53 GMT -8
Impatiently Courcy scuffed the toe of her boot on the slick board. She suddenly became more wary of the waters and glanced cautiously to each side of the walk. This place always seemed to have some new trick to keep one on their toes - now it was fishfolk.
It might've sounded silly if it weren't for the gashes left behind in the stone. As her anxious eyes darted about, she looked up the tower again to see if the man had moved. Either way, the hellion was determined to enter the tower as soon as the door had been opened.
"What is it?" She was only half-attentive to what Tilly was doing.
|
|
|
|
Post by Vanitypirate on Mar 1, 2018 10:53:05 GMT -8
Tilly sighed with mixed relief and exertion, making a mental note to try the lockpicks out in the next, quiet moment.
She gave a small glance to the sky, as though to discern the time and fully judge whether it was ridiculous to wish for a nap at this time.
"His name's Beansprout." She turned halfwise, shoulder to the door, and hand on the doorknob. She held the dagger towards her other two party members, but still had a firm, albeit gentle, grip to avoid dropping Beansprout.
"He's lovely. I found him in a box on the beach. He likes long naps under the sun and when folk ask him questions. The little one's a tad tuckered out at the moment, so," She tucked the dagger into the band on her hat once more and smiled at them,
"We'll have to hold our questions 'til later."
She pushed the door open ajar and gave a brief glance into the room to ensure that they were not about to walk into an ambush, and then glanced back,
"Are we ready?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Mar 1, 2018 15:56:28 GMT -8
/The Boardwalk/
The man at the top of the Tower, as Courcy could see it, still leant against the crenellations of the Limestone Tower as he had last she'd seen. No perceivable movement it seemed.
The door jammed for a moment, as Tilly pushed. For a moment, it seemed that the door wouldn't budge; but a second shove and the door popped inwards, letting greyish light (with a touch of orange from the lantern) spill into the dark first floor of the Limestone Tower.
\\
/The Limestone Tower, First Floor/
Immediately, the sickly sweet stench of battle spilled out of the room like a popped cork of a bottle. A permeating salty odour followed with it, giving the entire miasma an uncomfortably seedy quality.
A hardened, crusty slime was spattered and intermingled with the blood that was painted viciously throughout the immediate expanse.
There were three silhouettes that were framed in the room, as Tilly'd glanced it. They looked human-ish enough, a glimmer of chainmail covered by a red tabard. Most seemed to be stuck mid-strike or clutching a wound; two were standing in the center of the room, one was leant against a wall.
Though, that was the most Tilly could spy from the quick glance before she held the door an inch open.
\\
/Lekalis/
"As far as bizzare magical items go, I'd trust a name like Beansprout over any of Jacques tomes." He chuckled with a shrug as he pushed himself away from the wall and prepared his spear, though he kept his head on a swivel to keep an eye on his comrades' backs.
With Tilly and Courcy at the vanguard, he'd only crowd things up. Especially at such a narrow passageway.
The scent, however, made him cringe; and he took a moment to pull his cloak's collar around his nose, sparing a glance to Tilly and Courcy with some disgusted surprise.
"Wish I'd brought some censers but ready all the same.", his words muffled by the cloak, he shook his head and sighed, letting both his hands grip his spear again as he steeled himself against the odour.
\\
|
|
|
|
Post by Vanitypirate on Mar 1, 2018 17:59:35 GMT -8
It wasn't a bad smell, Tilly told herself.
"G-good heavens..."
Naturally she was blatantly lying to herself. She stuck her head right into the fuming cesspool with an odor so strong she could've sworn her eyebrows singed off. Her nose was irritatingly more sensitive as of late. It was a vile, unfortunate combination that could have been prevented by only being a touch more careful.
Jaws clamped shut to avoid disaster, she recoiled away from the door, which she kept ajar, doubled over with her hand over her mouth and nose. She breathed slow and deeply as she fought to retain both her composure and last night's dinner.
So much pain.
She silently and hurriedly motioned for the other two to proceed on ahead of her.
|
|
|
|
Post by black379 on Mar 1, 2018 23:07:33 GMT -8
Peeking over Tilly's shoulder, she watched her work with the strange dagger and finally cozy it in her hat. Courcy had done well, as she could manage, to avoid the supernatural. Besides battling with the occult-born beasts of the hamlet, at least.
Most notable were her interactions with Nidhogg. She never knew, even now, what brought him back, how or why. The sudden mention of arcane items and tomes intrigued some curiosity - even hope.
The sharp smell wafting from the tower as it opened made her wince, and refocus on their plight. Courcy would much rather have been daydreaming. Without anything to cover her face, the hellion grimaced as she started inside. Just as the man on top of the tower, the figures poised about the room seemed stuck. Through squinted eyes, trying to ward away the biting bloody fumes, she eyed each of them, and pointed her axe head threateningly to one, then the other, then the last.
|
|
|
|
Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Mar 2, 2018 13:26:34 GMT -8
/The Limestone Tower, First Floor/
Courcy's proper entry into the tower bestowed upon her a proper visual of the interior of the first floor; the three men as Tilly had seen before, were all frozen in motion, two as mentioned before were stuck mid strike.
All were wearing the same red tabard that was torn in places, with spatterings of blood and slime, though there was one who stood in the center. He wore a full pot helm with a faceplate and nape cover and all, a bronze gilding ran up the center of the faceplate, and turned into the frame of a brazen orange-red firelike plume. A maile coif had been punctured near his neck, and blood stained the otherwise grey armor.
He wielded an arming sword of sorts, with a seemingly gilded flanged mace set at his hip. The sword was raised in a Halfsword stroke, poised at a beast that was no longer infront of him.
The blade was slick with blood, and a dollop of palish blue substance drooled down from the point, equally frozen as the man.
Albeit, with the smallest of shifts in the outside air, it swayed slightly.
There was a man about a meter to the Full Helm'd one, who looked to wear the same armor as the last, sans the plumeage. He was poised, shield raised, sword striking out in an under swing at yet another invisible creature. The same look of ooze-like blood coated this man's blade, and a plethora of wounds decorated this man's body.
Indeed, even from Courcy's stand point of about five meters away, she could see his abdominal flank had been gouged open by some jagged spear; his intestines has sloughed out, and his innards rested in what remained of those winding fleshly coils.
The last was leant up against the wall, wielding no weapon, only clutching the arm pressed against the wall with some terror. The hand of that arm was pulled up so he might look at it, its fingers tensed, curled as though about a sword's hilt. His other arm had reached around to the other's wrist, holding it with dismay.
This one wore a simple bascinet with a squarish visor, though he stood closer, maybe nine feet away from Courcy.
A longsword lay on the floorboards below this one's hand.
The room in its entirety, sans the bloodstains and offal, was preternaturally clean. Though Courcy's vision didn't extend through all of the room, it seemed bereft of furniture. But, in the farthest corner from Courcy, there was a soft light shining through the cracks of what must have been a hatch to the upper floors.
\\
/Lekalis/
He gave a quick glance to Tilly as she beat a retreat, far from the door and for a moment he feared she'd been poisoned, the way she doubled over... T'ill he fully realized the stench and shuddered again as he scooted closer and placed a hand on Tilly's back; patting it with some comradarie.
"HmmmMmmm, stoney cliffs and washing seas rush over you and me." He sung quietly, glancing over to Courcy who'd moved into the Tower, seemingly strong-headed enough to take one whatever was inside.
His hand now settled on her back and carefully massaged into the grimy jacket of Tilly's, before fishing out a skin of water from their pack; he held it out in offering.
"It's no honey'd quaff, but count this drink on me." He smirked and held the skin out for Tilly to take, stooping over in kind to mirror Tilly's own nigh-retch.
\\
|
|
|
|
Post by Vanitypirate on Mar 2, 2018 20:27:47 GMT -8
Tilly found her shoulders unknotting and slumping under his palm, but her eyes were still screwed tightly closed.
A small part of her was grateful that Courcy had gone in without saying much, but there was still an idle fret of leaving someone off on there own.
She shuddered and sighed into her hand, breathing slow, listening to his song. The smell still lingered in her nose, and she worried that it'd never go worry.
"How in blazes am I supposed to go in there...?" She frowned heavily and made a despairing look to the door, though she did quietly accept the offer of the waterskin.
She was tired. This suddenly seemed so much more impossible.
Tilly started by taking a sip of water from the skin.
She looked out to the quietly rolling ocean and shrugged sheepishly, holding out the skin to Lekalis for him to take,
"It... wouldn't be too late to ask if you've got anything to eat, would it?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Mar 2, 2018 20:34:01 GMT -8
/Lekalis/
With pursed lips, he turned his head out to ponder with Tilly as well, humming for a moment, before nodding at the impossibility of it all, though admittedly on a much grander and more philosophical scale. He shrugged all the same, and frowned with Tilly; miming her gaze every which way like a colorful mime.
At last, he stared at the waterskin again with his brows risen, his features lax in their typical tired and ponderous way. As easy as a cat snatches a mouse, he plucked up the skin and stowed it in their pack before procuring a loaf of bread which he held up poignantly, wordlessly, and tore off the end of it before stowing the bulk of the loaf in the pack and offered the butt of bread to Tilly.
Then, with his other hand, he procured the square of silk he'd torn of for Tilly a day or so before this expedition proper. When her nose bled, during Grace's sermon.
Not rightly the most blessed birth of a kerchief, but he surmised it'd prove to be of some use now.
He held both silken square and bread butt to Tilly, raising them up with a thinly veiled smirk of smugness.
"You didn't eat much at all this morning anyhow."
\\
|
|
