Verjil
AThousandCurses
Kero
High Moon
Phase
Rabidporcupine
Citrus
Candelabra
TheMushroomLord
//A7 - Encounter at the Crossroads
It didn’t take much waiting for Sister Laina to emerge, dressed in common clothing rather than the vestments of the acolytes. A brimmed hat sat firmly upon her head, while her drab-colored tunic and pants, when combined with her already-bony frame, gave the woman a boyish look. She nodded towards Cantor, then set off, expecting him to follow her.
Immediately outside the Ordo Benevolence were buildings abandoned or under reconstruction, planks and boards sealing up what once would have been doors or windows. It was a quiet place though, tucked away against the wall of the Royal Road and distant enough from the open squares or the rowdy taverns that only adventurers who wanted to try a stint at squatting would be. You didn’t approach the Ordo Benevolence without a specific purpose, but looking at the white plumes of smoke that rose in the distance, perhaps it was because of the respectful solitude the Church found itself ensconced in that few cared about the place.
Quietude faded though, as distance was made, and soon enough, others strode upon paths of cobbled stone. It was morning still, too early for outer city merchants to have arrived, too early for anyone but the breadmakers to have stock out, too early for most adventurers to bother shaking off their hangover and roll out of their bed. But it was morning already, and the faithful rose as the Perishing Star fell.
Lethe, indeed, strode towards those grand walls that hid the scar left by the godslayer, and in doing so, felt the presence of kin. It was no particular pull, no significant compulsion, only a split recognition that the taller of the two beardless men who walked upon the same road he did was…
If there were indeed one thousand faces upon the Deity they worshiped, then the two may yet be similar in form.
@Thayr@Shovel
//A3 - The Plaza at Morning
It had been a bounty, but the bounty was now just a burden, a bloody burden that left a trail of blood in her wake, as assuredly as the blood and viscera that had soaked her own clothes. Elys’s dark clothes had been a practical choice, but that only redeemed her in the eyes of others, not in their noses; her Divine Protection could not make out the details upon the masses that she sensed, but she had heard the sniff of disgust from one of the guards as she stepped out of the cage, carrying her spoils.
It was understandable, of course. She had been a monster slayer, but the monsters she had slain in the past were limited in number. Perhaps it was clearing out a den of goblins. Perhaps it was dealing with a troll by a river. Perhaps it was cutting down a carrot with furry legs. The hunt, the anticipation, had taken time. The draw of the blade, the intensity of combat though? Elys had trained for the intensity of fighting off hordes and waves, but she had never been tested.
Not until last night.
But she survived the night, and now, she could smell the bread that was being baked too, could hear the rasping of coals rousing the forge. Elys, indeed, would now have an opportunity to reap her reward.
There too, was the possibility of reaping what she sowed.
Theo smelled the blood that clung to her, but it was easier to simply spot her due to the flies that her grisly bounty had attracted. From a distance beyond what her own senses, worn down from sleep deprivation and combat fatigue, could alert her to, the Ichor-Blessed of Blood could spy that paradoxical, bipolar woman trudging along.
She had headed into the Abyss through the same entrance he had. He had stayed in the same district afterwards. And now, both of them looked to obtain better armaments for the purposes of challenging the Abyss and their fellow godlings.
Destiny entwined them.
But it was his choice whether to follow it, oppose it, or sever it.
@SilverPaw@Estylwen
//A6 - The Stables of an Unknown Inn
When day broke, Sebi found herself in an empty stall of an inn’s stables, the place smelling of animal musk and manure. Certainly, the sleep had been rough, but her exhaustion when it came to sheer number of monsters that descended upon her within the Abyss had made the sleep deep and heavy. Even now, gravity itself seemed to be pulling her to sit, perhaps, or to lay down once more. And that had just been one night on the First Layer of the Abyss.
Whatever her future plans were, actively participating in adventuring would prove to be problematic.
Her companions though, a good twenty years younger than her, still had the energy of youth to keep them perky in the morning. Stepping outside of the stables, Sebi found Allen, the foxboy, seated on a stump as Millie pulled and brushed the straw out of his hair and tail.
“Good morning Miss Sebi,” Allen said, smiling brightly before letting out a wide yawn.
“Gam’s out to buy bread.” Millie considered the state of her companion’s tail, then smacked the cheap brush clean of straw before offering it to Sebi. “You’ve got a bunch too.”
The Ichor-Blessed of Light, of course, brought whatever pleasant chitchat to a halt with her relatively straightforward maneuvering of the conversation, causing both of the young adventurers to give pause.
“Does that mean, uh, that you’d rather not adventure with us? What about Miss Sumiye? Did she already leave?” Allen’s expression was already souring, prompting the porter to smack him on the head.
“We don’t have more than a week’s worth of experience,” Millie said. “And this one here’s just there to be a hero. For me though, heard that you can start making real money once you get to the Second Layer. A lot more and a lot faster than if you apprenticed and all.”
She paused, briefly.
“Needless to say, you could probably fetch yourself a better party, going by how yesterday went.”
@Asuras
//O11 - Communal Wel
Life, after all, couldn’t exist without drinkable water, and the slums were congested with the destitute living, not the decaying dead. Stepping out from the slumlord’s property, it didn’t take too much effort for the Backstreet Queen to locate a communal well in the Outer Layer. It was a shoddy thing, the frame that allowed the bucket to be pulled definitely having seen better days, but it was nevertheless an oasis, a meeting place for the flint-eyed residents of the surrounding quarters to trade gossip, complain about those who weren’t present, and do their laundry. Drinking such well water would probably be fatal, but there was a trough close by where buckets were upended and the clearer surface water could be skimmed to wash one’s face or hands.
Adventurers, of course, were present too. There were plenty of parties who generated less income in the Outer Layer, those who made enough to worry too much about nighttime robberies if they slept in the stables but who didn’t make enough to afford an inn proper in the Adventurer’s District. A strapping young orc lad was hauling up buckets of water for the women of the district, getting calls of appreciation and the occasional slap on the ass as he did so, while his companions huddled about trying to scrub the blood off their clothes. Prostitutes from nearby brothels were in full force as well, cleaning out the crustiness of their bedsheets and sharing slivers of soap with others in the well-community that they recognized. Bare-faced though they were, there were still hints of who they once were before the wear-and-tear of the business got to them.
There was a well, and there were people.
If she had nothing else, Talia could wash up with relative ease. But perhaps there was opportunity here for some ‘missionary’ work?
@OwO
