Krenth narrowed his eyes, focusing his gaze on the shadowy area behind Narophne. Just what was she looking at? Or, what was she looking for? That was what Krenth wanted to know...

"As should you. Especially after today's events, your mind and body need rest. You should sleep as soon as you are able." Although he was upset with her, Krenth could not deny that Naro's safety(and, to an extent, her wellbeing) was a high priority. So, it would not do for her to be wandering the halls all night.

"I am going to retire to..." Krenth chuckled, though it lacked any humour. "I nearly said my quarters. I shall retire to the room I have been granted. I suggest you do the same- who knows, maybe that foolish maid can sing you a lullaby, if sleeping is so difficult."

He laughed once more, then started to make his way to his room, turning his back on Naro.

"So you are okay, then? Great! I didn't really want to heal you in the first place- you did break my roof! Well, Valsthet's roof, but we might as well share ownership of the tavern, y'know? But that isn't important- we gotta stop that boar! How can I help?"

Vrisz drew two daggers from their sheaths, each located on the inside of his arms. It seemed uncomfortable at a first glance, but it was far faster than the classic hip sheath. But, considering the size of the boar, those wouldn't have done much more than irritate it further. "What do we do? How can I help? I can stab things- I don't like it, but I'm pretty good at stabbing!"

What was once a calm, quiet day for a little goblin had soon been replaced by chaos, violence and death...but, I will get to that later.
------------
Just an hour earlier, Vrisz had been walking through the Open Road Inn, serving drinks and food to the few patrons inside. Today was peaceful. Relaxing. Eerily so, but he was not one to question good fortune! In between serving drinks and chastising the occasional rude customer, he had chosen to occupy himself with a bit of...well, shall I say, mischievousness.

Comfortable as his life may have been, Vrisz couldn't resist an easy mark- especially not one who was pestering the barkeep! So, as some drunken lout kept shouting for more ale, the cloaked goblin began to ply his trade: thievery...

"Cut the purse, glean the glittering gold, make off with your treasure...just like old times!" Vrisz murmured to himself as he worked, his small size allowing any wandering gazes to easily pass by him. Like old times indeed, Vrisz. Within moments, the angry man had been relieved of most of his valuables, and Vrisz had managed to slip back into his work as a waiter. Valsthet or Tildy would probably give him hell for this later, but he wasn't too worried. Larceny was in his blood, and he could put up with dish duty for a week if it meant he had more shiny things!
-----------
With a cheery smile and heavier pockets, Vrisz continued to serve the few customers that remained, delivering drinks and food to whoever requested them. However, things were...off. He was no master thief, and while he knew a few spells, he was not a divination wizard! However, things were definitely off...THE BELL!

The alarm bell, used to signify any sort of danger or emergency, was clanging throughout the little "village" that held his inn! Was it brigands? Dragons? Or worse....the Boar? While he hadn't been unlucky enough to see it in person, Vrisz had heard tales of a boar larger than a house, meaner than a hornet's nest, and more destructive than a hurricane! It couldn't be here, could it? Not again, not this soon!

His question was soon answered by chaos erupting through the inn as the boar launched it's assault. His size, which was once an asset, was now a detriment as Vrisz had to prevent the swarming crowd from trampling him! And, to add on to this already-hectic situation, a massive(at least, to Vrisz) woman crashed through the roof of his inn, ruining it! Amidst the rampaging crowds and barely-muffled squeals of the Boar, Vrisz made his way to the roof-wrecking lady.

"Hey! You there, sword lady! Whaddya think you're doing, crashing through our roof?" Vrisz paused, catching himself. Not the time to be upset, especially not to someone twice your size. "Are you okay? That was a pretty nasty crunch- I couldn't tell if that was you or the roof! Do you need help? Is the Boar here? Do I need to stab it? Or, maybe I could use a firebolt? Do you need healing? I think I might know a healing spell, maybe! I'd have to think about it..."

All of this came out in a flurry of barely-intelligible sentences- however, a few words would most likely stand out, such as "Boar," "help," "stab" and "healing."

Maybe, maybe she should have. Krenth was tired, angry and armed- a dangerous combination, had she been anybody else. Instead of violence, however, he would simply respond with his next best weapon: harsh words. "You could not sleep, you say? That sounds like an issue for you, not me." Krenth knew of Naro's plight, what she was going through, and yet he did not care. She would adapt on her own, or circumstances would FORCE her to adapt. It was that simple.

Krenth peered over Naro's shoulder, mildly interested about what she was trying to find. "What is it, girl? You are acting like you have seen a ghost- just what is it that you keep looking at?"

"I asked out of curiosity alone. I know little of the Liivaet, and I know even less of their abilities. I would ask that you do not fault me for inquiring." He nodded once, seemingly content with this explanation.

"You lack a blade? I suppose that much is obvious...I find such a weapon unnecessary, but if you need a replacement, we could find one elsewhere. If we are to be travelling together, I want you to be able to fight at your best." Personally, Drakmor did not see the appeal in blades- they were hefty, unwieldy and took far too much time to learn. Personally, he preferred to fight bare-handed, but he would not prevent Neria from arming herself, if it mattered that much.

Howdy howdy, y'all! I just made a new charrie! He's a mischevious lil goblin thief, but a pretty fun lad to hang out with! Anybody wanna talk about plotty stuff?

http://www.spiritsoftheearth.net/smf/index.php?topic=26921.msg390018#msg390018

__________________QUICK STATS
Name: Vrisz, no surname. Hopes to gain a title someday.
Age: 16-ish, a decent age considering how easily goblins die. At least, in most fantasy settings, anyway...
Gender: Male
Species: Goblin
Ethnicity: I forgot to add this earlier so take a big ol' N/A
Height: A modest 3'4".
Occupation: "Legendary" Thief, Spell-Slinger and Waiter.
Residence: The Open Road.

__________________IN-DEPTH STUFF

Physical Description: Vrisz looks like many of his kind- short, green-skinned, pointy-eared and sharp-toothed. He is quite thin, but is less..."pointy" than other goblins. His eyes are a bright yellow, even seeming to glow in dimly lit areas. His clothes are simple and unadorned, a set of dark-grey pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Finally, he has an old, tattered cloak with a metal skull mask attached to the hood, which covers the upper half of his face.

Personality: Vrisz is somewhat untrusting of others, and for good reason! He is weak, he is a goblin, and he is a criminal- a combination of things that makes it very easy for people to hate and exploit him. However, despite the many dangers of doing so, Vrisz enjoys meeting new people. While je won't be as friendly in a public setting, catch him alone and he'll be far more cooperative. He will almost always try to avoid fighting, even against someone weaker than him- unless he is cornered, Vrisz will usually flee in the face of danger. Ah...one last thing- Vrisz is far from picky with his food. If it is necessary, he will resort to eating humanoid corpses, giant beasts, anything that would allow him to see the next day.

Magic/Abilities:

Goblin Nimbleness- As a goblin, Vrisz is far more nimble and agile than most others. He can fit in small spaces, scale large walls, things like that.

Spellcaster- Vrisz has picked up a few spells in his lifetime, whether that be through stealing magic tomes, or from pure experimentation.

Thieves' Knowledge- Vrisz has compiled a large amount of information, mainly related to criminal activities. He is highly versed in acts such as lockpicking and pickpocketing, and is skilled at getting out of(or into, if necessary) trouble when things go south.

Relationships:

Valsthet, the barkeep of The Open Road. Trusted like a father, possibly even more so.

Nana Tildy, Valsthet's mother. Especially close to Vrisz.

Hilda Greenwood, one of the waitresses at The Open Road. Rather close to Vrisz, originally brought him to the inn.

History: As a young goblin, Vrisz was most definitely different than others of his kind.

He wasn't interested in raiding settlements, nor did he find enjoyment in inflicting pain like other goblins. He didn't like killing- hell, he disliked violence altogether! The only thing that was even useful about him was his skills at stealth, and even that was too niche to be used very often...

He was quickly shunned from his tribe, left outside to fend for himself...or rot. And, in all honesty- Vrisz didn't do so well. He was small, fragile, and had only the barest hints of arcane and combat knowledge. Within weeks he was left in the woods, starving, close to death.

After two weeks of endless wandering, Vrisz finally collapsed on the edge of a dirt road, devoid of any sort of wanderers or helpful travellers. Surely, he would die here, alone, lost, looking for anybody who could help him...as his eyes closed for what he thought would be the last time, Vrisz heard the faint sound of...footsteps...a voice...and then there was nothing.

He awoke a day later, laying in what was probably the most comfortable bed he had ever been in. It was warm, softer than a cloud, and was cleaner than anything he had been in before. He was about to fall back asleep, when he heard a woman's voice calling out to him...

He begrudgingly opened his eyes, and scanned the room around him. It was small, simple, plain- and better than his entire village! He heard the voice call out to him once more, and he looked to his left, finding a young woman. Her name, she said, was Hilda...

[TIMESKIP]

Seasons pass, years go by, and time marches forward. Vrisz had easily fit in at The Open Road. His unique charm and kind demeanor distinguished him from other goblins, meaning that he was gladly accepted within the inn. The barkeep, an older man named Valsthet, was especially attached to Vrisz- he must have thought himself a father figure of sorts, constantly providing advice and allowing the goblin to confide to him. Nana Tildy was one of his closest friends, along with his savior, Hilda.

At last, he had found a home, a place where he was welcome, a place where he was truly safe. Where he was happy, loved, and had a duty he truly enjoyed: waiting tables and providing entertainment to patrons of the inn! For now, it seems Vrisz's story had ended...or had it?

__________________THREAD TRACKER
Current Threads

Complete Threads

He nodded, appearing to only notice this fact now. "Clever. I had not considered that- I would have pushed on. I will rest, then." He did not mind walking for days, if necessary- he could endure plenty of punishment, and his stamina was high. If it was necessary, he would have walked for as long as it was necessary to reach his destination.

"Do you have any supplies for setting up a camp? I do not." As usual, his sentences were short(ish), to the point- even as travelling companions, it seems Drakmor's attitude towards Neria would not change. For now, at least.

After such a long time, even the significantly long chants and mantras would have been over for quite a while. Instead of hearing his low, whispery words from outside the library, there would have been naught but silence. Deep, endless silence...

Suddenly, the door was thrown open, and Krenth walked out of the once-pleasant room. He was holding his head in one of his hands, sighing. It was clear to any onlooker that he was utterly exhausted, his energy drained and sapped beyond belief. He looked tired, so very tired...that was, until he spotted Naro. In an instant, his neutral expression returned, albeit with a tinge of irritation. He nodded in acknowledgment, his now-darkened eyes unreadable.

"Narophne. Did you need something from me, or may I attempt to get what little sleep I can for this night?" Was he being cruel? Certainly. Did he care? Nope, not in the slightest.

They attempted to nod, which was most likely a VERY interesting thing to watch- a cloud of mist, slowly descending then rising once more, their body nearly motionless as this went on. "How odd...I have seen plenty of undead- ghouls, spirits, even banshees and wights! This, however...I do not know as much as I would like to make a claim about what has happened. All I can say is this: you trespassed upon this cursed land, and have become cursed yourself. Whether you like it or not, this is what life-or should I say, death- is going to be like for the foreseeable future. I suggest you get used to it quickly."

Expressionless as they may have been, Morgan seemed to emanate an air of surprise and...indignity? How was it possible that this outsider hadn't heard of Fausteth? Not that they wanted any visitors, mind you, but to not even recognize the name...it was baffling! "I am sorry...what now? I believe I misheard you- you do not know about Fausteth? The mighty barony, Fausteth?  It is not too far from here...I would say within a few miles, if my memory serves me correctly..."

-----------------
(OOC: So sorry for the wait! Hopefully this makes sense, gotta get back into my charries after so long lol)

They listened to Taltiu in silence. If Morgan had the ability to nod, they would have done so. Instead, the knight let out a quiet hum, which seemed to emanate from within the misty cloud.

Thank the gods- this would be easier than most of the 'new arrivals' that Morgan had to deal with. "Good to know. I have dealt with far too many husks in my time. Fortunately, you are not one of them." Luckily, today seemed to be a quieter day, with very few interruptions. So, the knight decided that they could spend a bit more time here, perhaps learn a bit more about Taltiu before they had to leave.

In response to the last part, Morgan let out a small laugh. "Clearly! You're are dead,after all- I am sure anybody would consider that a problem.  Though, you do not need to apologize- I am used to hostility from others, and no harm was done." Clearing their 'throat', Morgan spoke once more. "I am Syr Morgan Bloodbane, knight of Fausteth. Who are you?"

Sounds good. I hope things improve soon, friend!  :D

Morgan watched in silence as Taltiu finally realized what was happening. It seems that they would not have to kill anybody, for now at least. They stood still while Taltiu stared at their ghostly form, allowing her time to figure everything out. It was a strange experience to most, so they were willing to wait for a few minutes.

"You were dead, though you are now undead. Like many who trespass upon this cursed land, you were unable to 'properly' die. I am affected by it, my family was, and now, you are as well. I suggest that you get used to it while you have the chance." For the second time today, Morgan sheathed their sword.

Rather than feeling sad or sympathetic towards Taltiu, the spectral knight seemed mildly irritated. They had a job to do, and with every lost undead or mortal interloper, that job was interrupted. Granted, one of their main tasks was to scout for these things, but they couldn't help but be annoyed with each interruption. "Tell me, how much do you remember of the days when you were alive?" This was an important question- amnesia was a common side effect of becoming undead, and Morgan wanted to know just how much they would have to explain.

Even though it was impossible for them to have an expression, one could almost feel the irritation radiating from the knight. Morgan drew their sword, the rasp of 'steel' echoing throughout the area. At this point, the spectral rider was genuinely considering slaying Taltiu, even with the drain manifesting a corporeal form would place upon them.  Taltiu seemed to have retained her intelligence, which was the only thing stopping Morgan from cutting her down. However, their patience was running low, and they would not allow a threat to roam around unchecked.

"Everyone ignores my advice...I told you that you would waste your time, and yet you did not listen." Sighing, the knight spoke once more. "I shall warn you one final time, lost one. I. Do not. Want. To hurt you. However, if you reject reason, I will have no choice but to slay you."

Morgan had one final idea, one last trick before they would accept that this was a lost cause. With one hand, they removed their helmet, a small cloud of mist escaping from it's once-metal shell. Even if Taltiu was unable to discern details, Morgan hoped that the sheer absurdity of a headless, spectral knight would snap her out of her rage.

"If it was not obvious already, I am not alive. You could stab me with that knife of yours for hours, and nothing would happen. Now, calm yourself, before my patience runs out!" Morgan's sword was still drawn, though it was not pointed at the Haevar.

Morgan watched as this once-calm stream of magic writhed and spun, slowly putting their helmet back on. As so many others have, this one had been cursed. Morgan was no mage, but they had been around enough to know when something was magical. Whatever was happening, it was not good.

They watched as Taltiu shambled towards him, placing a hand on the hilt of their sword. If this was nothing but another husk, Morgan would have no qualms with slaying her. However, they did not draw it- not yet. Not until they could be sure.

"I have done no such thing. The blame belongs to those brigands, whom I have dealt with already. I may look unnatural, but I do not kill without reason." They took a step back when Taltiu's knife began to glow, a hint of nervousness slipping into their voice. They had seen several magic-users within Fausteth, so they were less untrusting of those who used it. However, there was a key difference here, and that was the fact that the (probably) magic knife was pointed at the knight.

"I would not recommend striking me. You will only waste your time, along with my own. I do not seek to harm you, nor am I allied with those who have." They were not incredibly worried, knowing that all ordinary weapons, along with most magics could not harm them. However, Morgan ould not help but wonder if this eerie red haze was among the magics that could truly damage them. It likely wasn't, but the spectral knight couldn't know for sure.

After shouting out one final warning, the ghostly knight watched as the brigands fled from the ruins. They sheathed their sword, letting out a quiet sigh. They hated having to deal with foolhardy plunderers, especially those who went along a more...violent path. It was tedious and time-consuming, but necessary. Luckily for the rider, these mortals chose to run, rather than stay and fight.

Dismounting from their dark steed, Syr Morgan Bloodbane approached the corpse of the poor Haevar woman. They did not recognize this body, so they assumed she must have been the prey of those brigands. Removing their helmet, Morgan knelt next to the lifeless body of Taltiu. Rather than a true head, they had what appeared to be some sort of mist flowing from their neck. Within the mist were two pinpricks of light, presumably their "eyes."

Morgan was silent for a while, paying what respects they could to the dead woman. When they finally spoke, it sounded far more human than before, filled with melancholy. "It is a shame...I could not save this one. Yet another falls in this cursed land...may you find peace in death, O Nameless One."

Rising from their position on the ground, Morgan returned to their horse. "Do what you wish, Shade...I shall linger here. I cannot help but feel like something is off..." The horse, now known as Shade, let out another neigh, then galloped off into the distance. Morgan was not concerned, fully aware of their ability to call Shade at will. When they needed to leave, they would simply summon the dark steed again. Morgan began to investigate the area, momentarily checking over each of the Haevar's belongings, including the corpse itself. They didn't know why, but they had a feeling that this would not be an ordinary patrol.

The sound of hooves beating against worn cobblestones. A distant shout, both indistinguishable and crystal-clear. The Rider was watching, and these interlopers would not do unnoticed for long. In the distance, a mounted figure could be seen rapidly approaching the bandits, faster than any normal horse should have been able to travel. Each step left behind a wisp of smoke, two burning eyes locked upon their destination. Soon, The Rider would arrive.

Soon, the hoofbeats grew louder, the distant shout nearly discernable. Though...with clarity of sound, came clarity of sight as well. Soon, the bandits would see that this was no ordinary knight. The ghostly figure was wearing a set of old, oh so very old armor, bearing the long-forgotten crest of an ancient family. The horse upon which they rode was midnight-black, with fiery eyes and dark smoke forming a trail behind it. The figure's face was obscured by a helmet, though what appeared to be some kind of mist was leaking from the bottom of it.

Finally arriving in front of these brigands, the spectral knight drew their sword as their steed came to a halt. When they spoke, their voice would have only added to the things differentiating them from the average mortal. It held the anguished cries of the dead, the sounds of clashing blades, the terror of death and undeath, all formed into speech that was somehow understandable.

"Halt, ye who trespass here! Cease your vile plundering, or suffer the curse of Fell, as I and so many others have! Leave now, and never return, lest the undead hordes claim you all!" The horse reared up, letting out a bone-chilling sound that only vaguely resembled a neigh. "Leave now, and never return!"

Greetings, esteemed friends, hated enemies(this section of the seats is currently empty.) and unspeakable eldritch horrors! With my return to the server, I have created a new character! They are Syr Morgan Bloodbane, and they're a spoooky undead cavalier! Currently, they would probably be found roaming Fausteth, though I am sure that if you don't want to visit the undead zone, I could think of a reason for Morgan to be wandering, exploring or otherwise away from their home. So...yeah, anybody up for meeting a spoopy ghost knight? :D

The priest mumbled a goodnight in return, then began to chant those odd, unspeakable words from before. However, it was clear that this was no spell- only a mantra of sorts, something to focus the mind and calm the soul.

Krenth was furious, at Narophne and himself. He was getting soft, showing forgiveness where it was not deserved, making exceptions in situations he never would have made in the past. Everything seemed to be working against him, as if the world itself hated the man. However, he would not let these setbacks affect him too badly. He was Krenth Sarthin, blessed priest of Yxdes, and he could not fail. Not now, after everything he has done, all that he has worked for.

The giant walked in silence. He had received his answer, and he had no more questions. His earlier happiness, the energy he had...he lacked that now. His face was a mask of neutrality, a stark contrast to his openness from before.

Drakmor barely registered the change in temperature, focusing on the 'road' ahead. However, when Neria spoke to him, the giant looked over at her. "If that is what you want, then so be it. We of the Karvach Ichtis do not require sleep. Rest if you need it, and I shall keep watch."

Spoiler

Aaaaah sorry for taking so long! Apologies if this makes no sense, by the way!

[close]