Doyl

Doyl stomps over to his table and starts stuffing the various odds and ends into his backpack. He looks over to Nicodemus and Silme, "Sounds like the weather's getting nasty. Ha! That'll make it harder to trace us if he's got local buddies." With a nod at Sir Grale's bosy he adds, "Better get busy looting that stiff, people get curious when knights get killed."

Then, to Fred, he calls out, "Oi, stunty! Play us a good jig, why don't you!"

Updated 9 August 2013 (22:58)

Silme

Taking the wizards hand to give him help to his feet, the Elf smiles. Suddenly turning serious, Silme says quietly to Nicodemus, "I only pray that time will not show me the folly of my actions today. Regardless, I have set my path in motion and I will follow it to whatever end. This man was of high standing and even if he was foolish enough to come here on his own, surely there are many who will come looking for him. It seems our path to the City of Kings is decided for us as surely there will be a watch now on the easy road." Pausing to pick up his weapons he continues, "and surely some will come looking soon. We should not tarry here long Master Wizard."

Fred

Nodding to Doyl, Fred softly changes his tune to an even more up-beat jig. Tapping his foot to the rhythm, the Halfling spares but a moment to raise his finger for the barkeep.

Silme

"No offence Master Human," Silme says as he straightens himself and looks at Doyl, "but you've made it clear that your assistance comes with a price. A price that has neither been paid or arranged for. Do I sense a change of heart, or simply missed some barter between yourself and the Wizard ?"

Doyl

"You know the difference between a knight and a rich swordsman? Squires, mate, squires," Doyl responds and, presenting his bloodied axe, says, "But don't worry, I saw to them while you were mucking about with the big man himself." He closes the burgeoning pack with care, adding "Since it seems I'm going for a trip anyway, I might as well give you two a bit of a discount for my services. And as Master Wizard said to me earlier, he can pay."

He hoists the pack onto his shoulder, looks at the knight's corpse and asks, "Are you gonna loot that?" as casually as if he were talking about leftover potatoes.

Nicodemus

Nicodemus feels the chill growing outside the tavern and shivers. The arcane words that the wind carries makes him turn pale but he does his best to make it look like he was still suffering from the pains that his wound caused. The wizard glances nervously at the door.

"Umm.... I-I'm not s-s-sure if now is the best time to go o-outside..." he mumbles and glances at the door again. "The-the weather is quite ho-horrible. I think we should wait till the morning.."

Doyl

Doyl walks over to Sir Grale's body with a "Hmph," and starts patting it down for valuables. "Stop whining, Twerp, I know lots of places out of the way where a bit of lousy weather won't bother us," he says with the now familiar grin, and with a flourish of Grale's dagger adds, "And it's not a drizzle you should worry about, but steel through your guts, ha!"

Anatruim (BG)

"The Master dies and my servitude goes with him," Nicodemus hears on the still night breeze that holds most of the patrons in paralyzing fear. As Doyl searches Grales body the creature turns and let's out a wail that reverberates the very air between itself and Doyl. Such a wail has torn the skin of many men causing minor damage while holding them fast in fear.

As the screeching sound emanates through the Tavern the creature appears mere steps from Grales body. A faceless figure stands opposite Doyl clad in a pure white robe with a hood over a featureless head. The space where a hand should be reaches for a rusted blade at the creatures side. Within seconds an ancient blade is drawn by invisible hands. The movement of the arms of the cloak are the only indication that some force wields this blade that appears so old and decrepit that it must surely fall to ash with a mere thought.

Silme

Silme holds his position as solidly as a statue at the sound of the creatures wail. His eyes fixed in the distance, he appears unable, or unwilling to move.

Fred

With little notice the Halfling changes his song to a very sad moving rendition of Amazing Grace. As the notes filter through the air, many give pause and shed a tear as they are inexplicably bombarded with memories of many long since gone.

Doyl

With a frightened shout Doyl stumbles back, his axe swinging wild and smashing a chair. His cumbersome pack pulls him down on his arse with a thump. He stares at the robed apparition, the dagger held high. His mouth is agape but no sound comes forth... for once.

Anatruim

The creature returns his attention to Grale and appears to hover over the corpse while standing on invisible feet. To all but a Necromancer, it sounds as though a high pitched sequel emanates from the being. To Nicodemus however, he hears, "where is my seal of servitude."

Nicodemus

Nicodemus has been standing still, frozen to the spot since the necromancer appeared. Not knowing what to do he bites his nails and cold sweat drips on his temple.

When Anatruim mentions the seal of servitude the wizard snaps out of it and takes a deep calming breath. "You can't have him", he says with a quiet but clear voice, new kind of determination in his bearing.

Doyl

Doyl hauls himself back up from the floor onto somewhat shaky legs, and without taking his eyes away from the apparition says nervously to Nicodemus, "Can't have who? If it's the bugger on the floor you're talking about, let the thing take him. Stuff and all!"

Nicodemus

"His soul. So that he can raise him again", the young wizard says grimly and pushes his glasses up his nose. "I won't allow him to do that poor soul the same he did to my parents".

All this he says while keeping his eyes strictly locked to the necromancer.

The other patrons in the tavern had either fled or were hiding behind the tables too scared to move. Behind the counter one of the girls who serve the bear was crying silently.

Updated 2 September 2013 (18:42)

Sallah

The tavern door bursts open and another elf, steps in, shortspear in his left, bow at his back. He's not too tall, slender yet muscular in elven standards. He has hair of hazelnut and eyes of amber which makes his pale face somewhat unfeatured. He wears fitting deerskin pants and a loose vest, and loose creased silk shirts. His shoulders are covered by a cloak, green with a hint of grey, thin streams of rain still trickling down at his heels. The head of the spear is multiply-hardened steel, with a bunch of eagle-feathers at its stem. The handle is finely carved ash, strengthened with thin mithril bands. Apparently another masterpiece of elven craftsmen, the composite longbow is of ash and deer's antlers, covered with mithril film.

Sallah raises an amulet; silver unicorn in a green field; high above his head as he addresses the apparition, "By the name of Ehlonna, leave the mortal world, foul creature of the netherworld!" His voice is clear and commanding as the divine power he'd invoked fills the amulet and it starts to emanate a silvery light, faint but not unlike daylight itself.

(OOC)this is my first ever appearance in an RPG with no DM; hope I got it right (/OOC)

Updated 2 September 2013 (14:16)

Silme

Silme stirs as he is awakened by the piercing sensation of heat emanating from the pouch at his hip. Almost without thinking, he reaches into his pouch and pulls out Grales amulet, now shining bright in the dimness of the Tavern.

Anatrium BG

The creature recoils at the sight of Sallahs amulet and backs away from Grales corpse. On seeing the second amulet emerge, the creature lets out an ear piercing shriek. Spying Nicodemus, Anatrium charges suddenly with his rusty sword aimed straight at the wizards neck.

"I'll have some prize 'ere this meeting ends," the creature hisses.

Updated 2 September 2013 (18:01)

Sallah

The divine warrior seems winded as if the long stride getting him here wore him out, as well as invoking the divine power of his goddess. Still, he addresses Anatrium with a firm voice, "Not as long as Sallah has a word on this," he says, with a strange emphasis put on his own name. He raises the spear for throwing, and the fine tip becomes translucent as aiming the incorporeal creature. Those with a knowledge of ancient arcana recognise the `ghost touch` ability of the weapon. However, the elf lowers the weapon at the first attempt, and gathers his strength to raise it again, speechlessly praying for the other living beings in the tavern to withstand the apparition's unearthly power.

The elven noble has been following the call of his goddess for three days now, the divine suggestion telling him to confront the incorporeal evil, but he was unsure exactly how powerful this being was, let alone how powerful the other beings threatened by the apparition were. Now, being here, he did not want to lose out but he needed one more turn or three, to recover and launch a decent attack.

Doyl

Doyl quickly ducks out of the apparition's way and edges toward Grale's body, weapons held high.