ew irl friends that's gross
Perfect.
Spread the fire. Flick around a few well-placed matches, watch the smoke rise.
Erescal looks around for a good point to start the fire at. Glancing over a few nearby buildings, he notices that most of them are at least three-fourths wood or other flammable material. With the Hermits at the top of the hierarchy, technology had been growing asymmetrically as of late. Buildings were still wood and sometimes stone blocks, but motorized transportation and other similar technology running on the principles of Hermetic science. Erescal soon has lit fires on three different wooden buildings in the local area. The fire is slowly climbing up the structures, still too small to be of great notice. He revels in the blossoming smoke coming forth from the burning oak planks...
Akashir will become increasingly elated in a few turns time."Well, not that that's done, might as well check out the place the Elder talked about."
Head to the "The Lucky Bottle" and check to see if there are any other acolytes there.
Morticia heads to the same tavern the other Acolytes were advised to visit. Immediately entering upon arrival, she scans the inside for any other hooded figures.
Some signs of a struggle- Smallish blood spatters, shattered bottles of alcohol, et cetera decorate the bar itself and the area around it. Most of the crowd that was here before is gone now, all save for a few dozing drunks that would have normally been thrown out by now. Seeing as nobody is in the front of the tavern, Morticia decides to search elsewhere. She walks to the back of the bar through a door (which is, oddly enough, ajar) and arrives in a room full of barrels and crates. John Doe is standing over a man who appears to be the barkeep. The barkeep in question is thrashing rhythmically while bubbles of blood and drool seep from his frothing, damaged maw. Azur is also standing near the body of the barkeep with some sort of
pinkish liquid dripping from the sleeves of his cult robe.
I wonder what happened here...Take both items, then high-tail it. Think about what I could do next would please Akashir.
Siri grabs the switchblade and copper piece before taking a moment to contemplate what she could do to please Akashir.
Well, there's always murder... arson... vandalism... anything destructive, really. Maybe burn down a couple buildings or two? Break into a house and mercilessly slaughter its inhabitants? Decisions, decisions.Ok, someone else ended the idot, and Looking for a Secret door isn't working, So I'll MAKE a door.
Draw my chainblade, and since the alchemists are suppose to be in the back, Hack a hole through the wall.
John sighs, slightly annoyed by the barkeep's tenacity but relieved by the fact that he is down for good this time. He reaches into his large robe and pulls out a sword with a blade that is slightly longer than his arm. Somehow he keeps it concealed in there-
probably something to do with Ckaeyod blessing his robes. There are edged chains coiled around the blade itself horizontally and as he holds it they begin to wriggle and writhe before reaching full speed and running across the the blade while never leaving its surface. John swings it at a particularly suspicious looking wall. The sound of wood splitting can be heard as a (little more than) human-sized hole is carved into the wall. A dark passage can be seen inside.
This has to be the entrance to the Alchemists' lab.Valith takes the poor bastard into the shut-down inn, and makes sure no one is watching. Then, he utters a prayer to Sierris, grins madly, and slits the guy's throat with his dagger, making sure to muffle any scream. He then quickly takes one of his cloths, and soaks it in the blood; these make great memorial pieces, after all. Now, Valith rifles through his pockets, looking for anything useful, or something that would identify just who this guy was; it'll enhance the eulogy to be done after all this, you know. "A poor, sad spy, lost in a haze; Valith's cruel point ended his days."
After pocketing the bloody cloth, Valith gets to work. Knowing that he and his fellow apostles still have a job to do, he forgoes a full job -- at least for now. Instead, he settles for slicing the skin of his face off from neck to forehead. This will make a perfect centerpiece when affixed to a wooden mask or mannequin; hell, he might one day start his own shop that deals in deluxe skins! I can only imagine what he'll be able to do with this once he has the proper time.
Alright, better get moving. I wrap another of my cloths around his ruined face, then set him facing away from the door, lying on the floorboards. If I can find any alcohol nearby, I sprinkle some over the body, to give the impression to casual observers that he simply passed out. Hell, that could come in handy later, so if there is alcohol, let's take it and pocket it along with the face-skin!
Now let's get the hell outta here. Of course, that probably took my whole action, but meh.
Valith drags the unconscious Watcher into the worn-down inn, certain nobody else is seeing him. There in the dark lobby he mutters a prayer to Sierris before slitting the Watcher's throat. Soaking one of his cloths in the blood and grinning madly, he pockets the reddened silk and begins searching for anything useful on the spy's person.
In the pockets of his coat, Valith finds an envelope with a broken wax seal. It looks familiar, but he can't quite put a finger on who's seal it is. Pulling out the letter in question, he scans over it for information on who he was or who employed him. The letter is rather brief and concise.
Cassius,
It has been a while since I last wrote you as a friend, and I regret to inform you that this letter's purpose is strictly "business".
As you may be aware, Archon Oteron is becoming more and more concerned about these so-called Revivalists. Despite the other Council members' attempts to quell these worries, he is still convinced that they are a danger that must be hastily dealt with. The Council refused to mark a menace that is likely illusory In morte. Archon Oteron made me swear I'd employ someone to look into it though, and that is why I am seeking your help.
You will be rewarded plentifully regardless of your findings- Archon Oteron swore he'd make sure of it.
Your old friend,
E
In addition to this, he finds a
pistol of sorts fully-loaded with 8 rounds and a spyglass. The spy (Apparently named Cassius) was well-prepared, but in the end his firearm did nothing to save him.
Valith stashes both the letter and the firearm within the inside of his pocketed cultist robe. The Adored Valith also cleanly slices off the face of Cassius, storing it away for future use in some
grotesque beautiful display of art. He covers Cassius' face and sets him face-down so that he draws less attention before stepping back out into the cold night air, sighing with satisfaction.
Sierris eagerly awaits the creation of Valith's next piece.Azur keeps searching for that den. If he encounters anyone liable to give away his position, the standard procedure of poisoning them and then using bodily fluids to paint terrifying images on the hilt of his dagger applies. Really a shame we aren't supposed to leave any identifying marks, or he'd begin work on a larger canvas.
Azur was prepared to do some searching, but his Steelborn friend appears to have found the entrance through less graceful means.
It's to be expected from those like the brutish thugs of Ckaeyod to do such tactless things. Azur needs to decide if he is ready yet, or if he wants John to go in first.
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Topic: Roll To Heresy: A Minimalist RTD About Cults [DEFUNCT] (Read 16019 times)