Turn 15, Bellstaran HospitalityPilner, woefully confused, opts to keep on walking, since he probably had a good reason to do so in the first place, fugue state or not. After about thirty minutes of walking along this lonely road, he has gained a wealth of information. Firstly, ahead of him is a town by the name of Hinsen, which he thinks he's actually heard of - a southern town, not too far from the mountains.
Mountains! He's supposed to find mountains, this much he knows. A specific mountain! One shaped like a knobby gravestone where God could very safely engrave Its words. Somebody in the mountains will probably know where that is, Pilner thinks. And the vision told him that he's supposed to be there as soon as possible, or something of that nature. That settles that problem! So, on to the mountains! Or Hinsen, or whatever.
Hinsen is reached promptly, much to Pilner's satisfaction - it takes but a day for him to do so. It looks rather nice, given the circumstances - a prosperous, sizable outpost in the far south, frequented by traders to a degree almost comparable with Bellstarae. It is a place well-known for several things - its crafts of gold and jewelry, created from materials obtained in the mountains, its rather exorbitant festivals involving quite a lot of said crafts as well as wine created from grapes obtained from nearby rolling hills, held to be mediocre, but eminently drinkable in this day and age, and its reasonably rich quintet of families who pretty much run the place jointly.
* * * * *
Jim, deciding to let the fine people of Bellstarae reject him if they feel that being this way is entirely necessary, asks the guards if they don't know any homesteads he could potentially petition for help.
"Well, then, I guess I shall be leaving. Could you perhaps give me directions to a nearby homestead, so I may ask for refuge? Thank you, fine sirs. I understand why you must not let me in.""Oh, quite," one of the guards replies.
"The Tavell widow's place is just down the road, and she's always good for Bellstaran hospitality!""Though you may want to wash yourself before she'll respect your wit and charm, of course. But anywho, scoot already. You're boring me.""I'm sure he means well. He can't help it if he smells offensively and radiates malevolence with his presence," the other guard points out.
Jim can take this no longer, and takes the lads' advice, going over to the Tavell household just down the road - not a hundred meters away from the gate, it seems. No wonder the guards are so familiar with it. It's a fairly well-kept house, and Jim thinks that whoever lives in there, presumably the Tavell widow, must be at least a little affluent. He can observe a rather nicely tilled garden outside the house, which slightly towers over that of the rest of the nearby buildings aside from the city walls, and a single light at one of the top floor windows.
* * * * *
Emilia, intrigued by the looting prospects the trapdoor offers, takes the prybar and gets to work on it, attempting to force open whatever locking mechanism is at work here. It takes her a moment of prying to realize that it's probably a latch that's locking it from the inside, and that there is no way she's going to get it open by just prying it open.
So, resorting to the next best thing, she just slams the prybar into the wooden planks forming the body of the trapdoor until the rotten things collapse inward, leaving a sizable hole. And from there Emilia puts her hand in through the hole, undoes the rather sophisticated and durable latch, and notices that now there is a dark hole below her. Perhaps she needs a light of some kind.
* * * * *
Derek, excited for his communication with these people, begins waving his arms nudely at them while he jabbers religiously.
"Karse! Nakedness is the essential foundation of man and woman’s ideal of the purity of the spirit! Feck! Karse! Perhaps," he continues,
"Perhaps you would join us in our quest for Holy Nudity!"He pantomimes throwing his nonexistent clothes to the ground, trampling them, and finally throwing a very small spark from his hand at the hypothetical pile of clothing, presuming that it catches on fire in his own mind. The three strangers laugh, say something to Sweetie which she purses her lips at, and then move on in unison. Sweetie rattles off something at their backs (and the hooded man's front), but they don't seem to care that much.
"Yeesh, these Gershfolk sure are being rude!" Ehran observes, having stayed quite silent during the exchange. Sweetie smiles at him.
Derek: 5 MP
Emilia: 4 MP
Edwin: 2 MP
Pilner: 5 MP
Jim: 5 MP
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Topic: Birth of a Deity: Turn 17, Multitudinous Failures of Words (Read 25988 times)