The Tavern

[Kidney]

Tod nodded, "Perhaps a sermon could be good for us." He got up, yawning but smiling, and began walking away across the tavern. But at that moment, he saw the man chained to another. The man stood silently, attached by chain to another man, who seemed to be talking to two others sitting at a table. Tod certainly didn't like slavery, or whatever system those two were apart of, but it didn't seem right to enter their conversation. But he did walk up and put a hand on Edgar's shoulder for a second before heading towards the door. \



To the Abbey

[Mr. Swagwalker]

"As a matter of fact, they do, my dear friend." Brenton said to Courcy and pushed up his goggles a tad using his index finger. "It is simply a matter of time. Experiments can fail many times, but at some point the tide turns in your favor and rewards you for your dedication and patience with a magnificent creation. Of course in the case of alchemy it requires much skill, but you get the idea, don't you?"
He soon turned his head towards Tilly with a puzzled expression upon hearing her question. "Hm? Treating the bo-- ...Ooh. Heh, well no." he said. "I am too short on coin at the moment to waste it on luxurious gifts. If I am to reward him I will have to postpone it until after our little expedition."

The sight of Tilly smiling at Edgar made it impossible for him not to return it, but he only allowed a few muscles on the sides of his mouth to lift a little in the most subtle form of a smile he could muster. He didn't want Brenton to notice he was making social contact with other people and risk having his wraith upon him.
She sees me. She knows I'm here. he assured himself with a hint of hope. He did not even seem to care about the fact that Brenton wouldn't be rewarding him any time soon. He was used to the doctor's mistreatment, and he didn't even want any gifts from that wretched man. Just the thought of someone noticing him at all, with a smile no less, was a good sign. Even if it was little, it was enough to help him carry on. For the time being at least.

"The sermon?" Brenton asked Tilly while stroking the dark scruff on his chin. "Ah yes, the crusader Tybalt went off to that event. That miserabl-- The bartender told him about it." He crossed his arms and leaned his weight more onto his right leg, a smirk creeping up on his face. "You are very correct in your assumption, my friend: I am not one to indulge in such trivial occassions. Honestly, why should I when I could be doing something important?" Brenton shrugged and shook his head. "It's simply a waste of time. I don't understand how those savages can gain anything from it."

Edgar glanced over at Brenton as he expressed his rather distasteful view of the church and its followers. The robed man may not have noticed it himself, but it was at the same time an indirect insult aimed towards Edgar. 
He doesn't understand it, and so he labels it as idiotic. Such is the way of narrow-minded fools such as Brenton; unwilling to see things in others' perspectives and remaining disrespectful of their opinions. 
I...I am not a savage. Edgar thought, feeling hurt by Brenton's comments.
But in truth that thought was but a lie. He had no idea of course, for the terrible truth lied deep within him and locked away by the shreds of humanity still inside him. 

Slumbering. Waiting.
More patiently than Brenton could ever be.

[lightningfast]

Mordecai nods as he examines Fen’s scars closely. “I believe I can make you a salve to... lessen these scars a bit. And while I can’t help you with your stun-grenades, I wish you luck in your inventions. Now tell me...” he continues, “Have you had any more success since that initial failure?”

[stealthclaw]

The young Plague Doctor looked a little surprised at his sudden interest. "I haven't tried, I'm a little uncertain as to if it is a good idea or not. The grenade could explode on me again, and who knows what damage it could, or would cause?" Fen looked a little thoughtful, if a little off-put. She looked to the mug of ale before her, wondering if partaking in such an activity would be wise. Well, her new companion had paid for it, so it would be rude to ignore the motion. Fen picked up the mug and sipped at it, trying not to be taken by surprise with the flavor. It was smooth but strong, an almost fruit-like flavor. Wondering if such a thing was normal, she set the mug down.

"If I did want to try to work with those again, I would have to find more of the ingredients that my master had used. I don't quite recall most of them, however, I'm sure I would recognize them if I came across them." Fen took another sip of the ale. Once she got past the strong, sudden flavor, it wasn't too bad.

[rumsztyk]

Ibrahim accepted the handshake; it was quick and light. "Not a problem."

He had no interest in attending the sermon - it held little value in his eyes. The scholar remained in the Tavern, nursing a glass of wine and studying one of his many scrolls.

[black379]

Courcy stared blankly at Brenton as he spouted his boringly academic optimism. She chewed on her cheek, and slowly cocked her head, looking intently to Tilly. The redhead had nothing to add on the subject of the man's slave, hardly sparing Edgar any attention anyways. She squinted inquisitively, and tiredly for that matter, at Tilly while she mentioned some event at the abbey.
"What, are you much of a church-type? Are you going?"
The hellion crossed her arms with an indignant huff. She felt as though Tilly and Blood were dragging her on a leash at their whim, and wasn't too keen on returning to that 'holiest' of places. It never crossed her mind that the sermon might have anything to do with Roderick.

[lightningfast]

"Ingredients, you say?" Mordecai smirks, pulling a roll of parchment out of his pocket. Rolling it out on the bar-top, he gestures to a peculiar forested area that seems to be lacking any proper landmarks. Though crude, it's clear that this map is of the landmark Wealds around the Darkest Estate. "I hear that the Wealds here have biodiversity the likes of which you've never seen. I guarantee, you'd be able to find what you were looking for there. And me, well, I'm hoping to gather some ingredients for my salves and poultices."

More lies. He'd become adept at telling them, though. In truth, Mordecai sought to dissect and examine the strange fungal creatures that supposedly lived in the Wealds, and collect herbs needed for his various arcane and divine rituals.

"Does the idea of an expedition entertain you? The owner of the hamlet is always looking for new adventurers to complete various mundane tasks for him, or so I've heard. It would be a good opportunity for us to get ourselves acquainted with our new surroundings, I think. Though it will be dangerous," he concludes, "Very dangerous."

[stealthclaw]

Fem looked to the map now stretched across the old bar, tilting her head as she examined it. The map was definitely crude, however, it certainly served its purpose. Now all she had to do was remember what ingredients her teacher had gathered, and what she had actually used. Idly she tugged at the ponytail at the nape of her neck, checking the band to make sure it wasn't frayed or likewise damaged. At the mention of gathering ingredients, she gave a thoughtful nod.

"It sounds like an ideal plan," Fen replied initially, but when he mentioned danger, she stopped. Dangerous? Being so young she was only experienced with medicines and diseases as taught by her teacher. Self defense? About all Fen knew was how to stab with her dagger. Was it effective? Not particularly. When the brigand attacked her teacher and their home, she had only barely escaped with her life. Even then, fate was not kind enough to leave her unscathed. The feeling in her hands was slightly off-put at times from the burns, but it was still a noticeable. The gloves protected the sensitivity of the soft, pale skin there under its leather grasp. If she went willingly into danger, only truly armed with a dagger, would she last long? Fen was suddenly unnerved, and her body language stated that.

"Ingredients are definitely a need, but I'm afraid I have no combat experience. It was sheer luck that I escaped with my life," Fen didn't look at Mordecai, the uncertainty and fear all to clear in her eyes. "If this is so dangerous, would it be smart to come along?"

[Vanitypirate]

Tilly rose her brows at the mild-- and perhaps, deserved-- vitriol towards the church, though she supposed it wasn't entirely surprising; most of the Hamlet's ilk fell on either one side of the religious spectrum, or the other: either atheist or fanatical, with few in-between.

She rose her palms, as if in self-defense from an oncoming assault, and gave another glib smile to Brenton, and then Courcy,

"Why, yes...! I had a mind to. Consider me a happy savage." She gave a small, short chuckle as her fingers snaked to rub the back of her neck, between the skin and the collar. "O-or a church-type, depending on your definition, naturally. I'm hardly ever in the Hamlet, come the Sermon day, and it'd make me quite happy "

She sighed some, and glanced nervously to the door and back again.

"I just wasn't too keen on letting you nap all by your lonesome, here. Lucky me, both you and Doctor Chandler aren't too keen on the church, so..." She trailed off and rubbed her hands together, like some clever strategist, as she cleared her throat.

"But, yes! It'd be a great bonding opportunity for you and our good doctor, I think." She nodded, thumbing the brim of her hat to keep it tilted away from her face as it bobbed with her emphatic movements.

"Blood should be heading over here, too, soon; you lot can get on and have a jolly good time while I'm out sitting pretty on a pew." She flared her teeth, with that small break in the row where it chipped, and clasped her hands together.

"How's that sound? Might I be excused?" She asked in, making to be comedically overly-formal as she looked to both for an answer...

[lightningfast]

"Dangerous, yes, but not impossible," Mordecai replies, "I am not forcing you to do anything, but do know that in my years of travel, well..." Smirking, the unorthodox doctor taps the bonesaw on his belt, and gently fingers the top of one of his six flasks of rubbing alcohol. "Let's just say I've learned a few tricks. A lit piece of gauze and a bottle of rubbing alcohol makes quite the firebomb, if you throw it right. I wouldn't want to go alone, though; we'll need to find someone else to come along with us, preferably someone who can swing a sword." He scratches his chin as he muses the proper type of person to accompany him. "Of course there's plenty of smarts between us, but a bit of extra muscle would be good to have along."

To himself, of course, he mused about his hesitance to bring along anyone too... pious. They might interfere with his blood magic, after all, and Mordecai didn't want anything standing in his way if he had to resort to more blasphemous means to heal a grievous injury. Though surely, he could keep it discrete, at least for one outing. "Like I said, it's ultimately your choice, but I think it would be wise to bring someone of your skillset along. After all, there's plenty of poisonous plants in the Wealds, and I'd hate to catch some new strain of the Blight without a skilled connoisseur of antidotes and potions such as yourself."

"I'd consider offering you an apprenticeship, but you seem to be a doctor in your own right already, and I think to do so would be insulting to your abilities." Nonetheless, Mordecai wanted to float the possibility to gauge her reaction. "But I digress. What do you say? We'll sign up for one of the jobs that's been posted, collect our plant samples along the way, and come back here to receive a healthy-sized reward that we can use to pay for room and board in the long-term."

[stealthclaw]

The man made a point, most definitely. However, her hesitation to accept such an offer was vastly inhibiting to the notion of such an expedition. Moreover, what if anything happened to the group they took out? What would she do?... Perhaps she was over thinking the situation. Biting back a sigh, Fen realized she surely was over thinking. With her ability to cure the various blight, and stop bleeding with her medicines, how much terror could come upon them? If they had a couple other individuals with them, perhaps they would be alright. After all, the samples would be needed for the future, and she doubted that anyone would simply just fetch it for her in this estate.

When Mordecai lightly commended her skill with her knowledge of blight and disease, she couldn't help but feel good. Praise had been rare from her teacher, as he had always been telling her to push onward and master the next thing. Fen looked over at him, trying to gauge if the man had any ulterior motive to offering apprenticeship. It felt like it would be no more than an exchange of knowledge, but after the brutal murder of her teacher, she couldn't help but question it. No, had the man wanted to do anything, he probably would have already done it. Mordecai seemed like quite the intelligent man, and she knew she could learn a lot from him.

"I would not take offense to be offered apprenticeship, if the offer still stands. A doctor can always learn new things, after all. I am still young and there is a lot that I still don't know. I would be delighted to learn from you." Fen responded, looking down at the glass of the pale drink before continuing. "I suppose it is not a bad idea to go upon this little quest. I'm with you."

[Mr. Swagwalker]

For a while Brenton simply stood there in silence, looking at Tilly through the dark lenses of his goggles. All of a sudden he bursted into a fit of cackling. "Oh, you with the humor as always! I thought you were actually serious about that for a moment!" he managed to get through between his chuckles. But his laughter soon died off, and his grin slowly morphed into what looked like a completely neutral expression. She wasn't joking this time, and the doctor realised this now.

"You're...actually intending on going to that gathering of delusionals?..." he questioned. Why would she? Brenton asked himself in his thoughts. She's smarter than this. Several theories began to jump back and forth in his head, though one stuck with him.

She was trying to delay the expedition. Yes, that had to be it. But why? Was it selfish lazyness? Cowardly fear of what lied within the salty caverns of the Cove? Or...was she intentionally attempting to hinder the progress of his testing?

Brenton's eyes narrowed behind the glass lenses with dissapointment. Whatever the reason was for her delay he wasn't going to let her get away so easily. Not when he was so close to advancement. He had been too idle for far too long now - he was desperate to do something practical.

"I'm sorry, Doctor Tilly..." he said, his tone of voice having not-so-subtly switched from his usual cheerful manner to a more sinister one. "...but you are forgetting something here." He held his hands together behind his back and straightened his poisture to appear taller. "What of our expedition, hmm? You promised me that we would get one going once we were gathered in this very tavern. Well, here we are: You, me, Courcy, and my miserable rat. All who is left is our good friend Blood - who you said is on his way. Why would you leave now, of all times, when we are so close to being prepared for our mission? You wouldn't desert your friends in a time like this, would you?...That would be rather selfish, don't you think?"

Brenton's voice had almost turned serpentine in its quality, and his words dripped of impatience like venom from a starving cobra's fangs. He leaned forward towards Tilly, close enough so that the brown and sceptical gaze of his eyes could be seen through the goggles.

"My dear little Tilly...What are you trying to run from?..."

Brenton's concentration was broken as he felt something pulling on his sleeve, and he looked around to find the source of the touch. To his displeasure he saw that Edgar was gently tugging on him with a pleading expression. Please...Let her go to the sermon. Don't keep her in your prison. Edgar thought, as if his words would somehow reach Brenton. Of course to the robed doctor that expression could mean just about anything - begging for food, or wanting to sleep.
"Stop touching me with your filthy fingers." Brenton ordered in a disregarding manner and swiped away Edgar's hands and turned his attention towards Tilly again, not thinking much more of the gesture. Suddenly he realised that he had done an incredibly poor job of keeping up his act a mere moments ago, and in an inwardly panic he attempted to put up his professionalist attitude once again and made a small sigh while adjusting his goggles.

"How unprofessional of me... I apologise. It must have been the liquor I had earlier. Strong stuff indeed..." he excused, attempting to sound a tad regretful. "But you see; I have been sitting here and waiting, doing absolutely nothing, ever since I got here. It is something I have a hard time dealing with, and I can...get a little annoyed when I've been too idle. But still, I must say...No, I may not excuse you. We are too close to making progress to turn back and run away into fantasies now. I hope you do not take it too personally - but we have work to do."

[black379]

It took hardly any leap of her imagination for Courcy to question Tilly's loyalty to her. At every opportunity, the robber seemed to take any chance at escaping her. She had thought the pair was meant to be escorting her, keeping her out of trouble, at least until the expedition had been seen through.
Even still, Courcy glared daggers at Brenton, erupting in his pompous outburst. She sat up and nudged him in the shoulder with two fingers, to edge the man away from her hatted companion.
"It's late, or don't you see? We'll get fuck all done tonight! May as well let her go."
The hellion's tone was fiery, in spite of her own exhaustion. She wasn't going to allow this greenhorn to trod on them as he trod on his chain-bound pet. Hopping from her seat, she stood tall against Brenton's own imposing stance.
"If you're hasty, you're dead! You'd better learn that quick. For now, if you'd sooner make threats than wait for the morning, I've gone plenty long without the taste of blood."

[Outisakanobody]

After breaking out of her room-turned-prison, a sleepy (but fully clothed) Tazia walked down the steps to the main tavern to once again begin cavorting and carousing with the colorful locals. She scanned area for interesting people, looking for her next diversion.

[Unter]

After a moment of intense praying, François decided to go down to the tavern. Still dressed in his armor, still carrying his bag and his sword, he approched the barman to get drinks and shelter.