The Bad Moon Inn

[Keke Le Cat]

Inez smiled down at Fraise, it was the first time since her family's death that she had anyone treat her so kindly. The elves of her native land looked down on all humans, and treated Inez like the human orphan she was.

Reaching her arm into the hat once more, she pulled the kerchief out. "This isn't really a magic hat. Not like that, anyway. It's just spelled to open a sort of portal to a chest I have at home. I don't really know how it works! It was my daddy's. Pretty neat, huh? It's all I have to remember him by."

Patting her cheeks, Inez went on, "I'm not usually so weepy, but today has been... trying. But, that is neither here nor there. I've just signed up for this here job the barkeep posted, it says I'm going out to kill goblins, whatever they are..."

Inez tucked the hanky back into her hat and plopped it onto her head, "What do you say you join me? I don't know what goblins are, but they can't be that fearsome if they are this close to town, eh?"

The directions on the sign up sheet said that the farm that was having the troubles lay near the mountains, about a half an hour outside of town.

[Keke Le Cat]

Camilla arched her brow at Anansi, the man was so quaint and amusing. "A story? You are asking me for a story? Well, have you heard the tragic tale of the fall of the great nation of Caralain?"

[Qoorl]

The Spinner of Tales smiled devilishly.

"I have A Tale of the fall of that once great Land. But every story is different when told by a different person, and every tale becomes different in the telling.
Children, gather round! This esteemed Lady of the Night," A pause and a snicker, "Ahem, Mistress of the Even Time, will grace us with a legend of the past!"

[The Editor]

Isha couldn't help but overhear the conversation between the cheerful little girl and the young woman at the bar. Getting up from her chair she walked over to them to introduce herself.
"Excuse me, but did you say something about goblins? My name's Isha, and I've signed up for that job as well. I'm not much of a fighter, but I'm sure I could help you. I know a bit about healing and magic." She smiled nervously, hoping that she hadn't barged in too much.

[Keke Le Cat]

"Why sure, that sounds fine." Said Inez, cheerfully. "I'm Inez and this here is Fraise. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Isha. I don't know what Goblins are, but they sure sound a hoot. Goblins. Goblins! Gobby. gobby, goblins!"

Inez laughed uproariously and slapped her leg in merriment. What a funny word. She loved word. She collected them, truth be told. What better thing was there to collect? You never ran out of room, and they didn't exactly clutter the place up! The inflection different people used on vowels, their tone when saying varying words. It was such fun.

~~~

Keke's emerald eyes narrow at the man. Mistress of the Night, indeed. She wasn't certain if she should be insulted or amused. Both of the feelings rattled around inside her until she finally settled on... Both. Still, she'd heard worse. She had a very bad feeling that it was going to come to a display of power between the two of those, and she only hoped that she had the strength of will to avoid hurting the spiderman too badly.

"Oh yes, where was I? The fall of the Great Nation of Caralain, it began on a Wednesday..." She smiled at all around, inviting them in. Her voice took on a strange inflection that caught the ear and drew one in. If it was vampire power, it was a very subtle one, but it made people listen. "I was 16 at the time, it was the most lovely spring I have ever seen. The gods seemed to smile upon us all with loving grace. The birds in the trees were plump and the flowers bloomed profusively all around. There wasn't a meadow that was not but covered in a blanket of the most lovely blossoms...


(pausing to allow anyone who wants to interrupt or join to do so, I will make a second post if someone does so and if not I will edit this one)

[The Editor]

Isha giggled. This Inez woman was fun, much more interesting than the mages she'd spent most of her life with. "I've never seen a goblin either, but they don't sound very dangerous."

[Keke Le Cat]

Never intended to be rude, Inez was drawn to the circle surrounding the strange woman as she spoke, something about her voice commanded to be heard.

~~~

“The Marshal-General of Carolain was a great man, all who spoke his name praised him. He was the Lord of Connachta, An Mhumha, and Mídhe, High Seat of House Kelsy, Defender of the Heartland, Guardian of the Forest and his daughter was Heir to the Broken Crown. It was a glorious age, for only once every three generations would the Broken Crown fall to House Kelsy, the greatest House of the Land. Two other families also ruled for a generation before passing it to the next.

“But I digress, as I was saying, it was a Wednesday. The breeze was warm for spring,” she paused for only a moment, emotion thickening her voice. It was apparent that she cared deeply for this fallen land. “I remember the way the clouds looked that day, they were little puffy cotton swabs in the sky. They were so wispy that they did not look like clouds at all, but like angel's hair, or fog.”

Her bright green eyes took on a far away dreaming quality, she looked off, unfocused. It was as though she could see it all playing out like a shadow show on a distant screen and the present was just an annoyance she had to deal with on a daily basis. “The view was occasionally spoiled by the black wings of carrion slicing the perfection as they wheeled overhead. The pipes played the men into combat, and the distant clash of steel could be made out over their mournful cry. It was beautiful, Carolain was beautiful, that day and all other days.

“The men were battling for the third day running. The humans of Andoria were invading again. They had tried in the past to take the elven nation and failed. They broke their teeth on the shield of the the Marshal-General for he was a brilliant strategist, and none could defeat him. He was a great man.” She took a sip of wine, emotion was a palpable thing in her voice when she spoke of this Marshal-General. “The Marshal-General was training his beloved daughter to be Queen and General to her people and had her there with him that day. They sat their horses in a small party away from the fighting, near a stream. The water was clear and cool, it reflected the azure of the skies. Small silver sided fish darted in and out of the reeds and it seemed as though they were flying in the sky reflected there. It was a lovely day. But I already said that, didn't I?”

She smiled, it was a heartbroken twist of her lips. “One of the elven lords who was quite jealous of the Marshal-General and his great standing took a bribe from the Andorians and lead an ambush against his own people.

“The great Marshal-General was attacked from the back with arrows. One took him through the chest, and a second through the throat. He died moments later.” In my arms. She thought, but didn't add. “It was the beginning of the end for that great nation. The daughter heir disappeared, and when the King fell, there was no one to take his place on the throne. Without leadership or strategy, Carolain fell.

“They could not take the land, not in truth. It was a gift of Freyr to his Children the elves and none but elves might reside there. It is that way still, to this day. Freyr may not intervene directly in the lives of his Children, but when humans or other races try to live on the land it rises against them. Floods, storms, drought. The land rebels. It was made for the elves. It is their Home. It may be taken, but not used.

“Without their Queen, the elves spread out to other lands. Defeated. The great city of Avalon lies at the heart of Carolain, and it still stands abandoned, pure and undefiled. The humans could not bear to destroy it's beauty.” She stopped speaking. It was unclear whether that was the end of her tale or if she had just grown tired of talking.

The burden of guilt rested heavy on her shoulders, though it didn't play on her face. She had clamped down on her emotion with an iron-like grip.

“It is a tale to make the stones weep, so sad to lose such beauty. The earth will never again know such grace.” A male voice interrupted. The direction from which it's source came was indeterminable. Was he there physically, or...

“Daerid?” Camilla whispered, uncertain. But the moment had passed. The strange silence that had descended when her voice was invoking it's power lifted and the clatter and clang of a busy common room took its rightful place once more.

Had she been the only one to hear, or had all present heard it?

[Keke Le Cat]

BTW...

Here is the Inez Profile

Room Number: 11
Name: Inez Soleil Temple
Age: 17
Nationality: The Fingers
Race: Human
Mutation: Werepuma
Description:


(please ignore lil homie and giant foot man)

Background: Who were you before you became what you are?

Inez stalked up and down the room, back and forth like a caged animal. It wasn't her bad habit, it was the cat's, but she indulged it when she wanted to. The cat liked to stalk when it was anxious, and if this didn't cause anxiety, nothing would.

“So you are saying to me, Miss Temple, that the body of Mr. Burl Jewel Junior, the youngest son of the mayor of this community, was gone when you arrived this morning,” said Mr. Stoddlemiejer.

“Yes sir, no body snatchin' went down after I got here. I can guaran-damn-tee you that much,” Inez snapped, crossing her arms under her chest. She didn't like the little squirrel of a man's tone. Not one bit. Was he accusing her of something?

“You are absolutely certain that... Never mind.” He shook his head and pursed his thin lips, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “And what time did you get here, Miss?”

He kept emphasizing the Miss, as though her age made her somehow culpable for the missing corpse. “I got here same time I always get here, 'round 1pm to clean up after the mornin' funeral.”

“Services, Miss Temple, we call them services. It is more polite to the grieving family.” He snapped. Her cat wanted to show it's teeth and hiss, but she refrained. It certainly was not her fault that Burl Jewel's body was missing from it's coffin, but she seemed to be taking the brunt of blame.

“Alright, services then. I reckon I'll go get the sheriff, Mr. Stoddlemiejer. We need to be about notifying the proper folks about what's been happenin'.” Said Inez.

“Now you hold on a minute,” said Mr. Stoddlemiejer, grabbing Inez's arm and holding onto her as though she had bolted for the door. “No one needs to know about this. If you cooperate with me, we can save the mayor from the post-death trauma of having his son's corpse disappear.”

“What are you sayin'? That we should bury an empty casket? Don't you reckon someone might notice?” Inez asked, her huge blue eyes widening in confusion and more than a little shock.

“I'm saying that if you listen to me and do exactly as I say, I get to keep my job and consequentially so do you,” said Mr. Stoddlemiejer.

“That don't seem right to me. Not one bit. Folks should know where their kin rest. That's the way it goes. It's just what's right. This is bigger than our jobs, sir.” Inez reasoned. She shook off his hand and took a step for the door.

“You can't do this. I've taken care of you for years!” He shouted.

“If you call lettin' me live in that run down shack out back in exchange for me workin' my fingers to the bone cleanin' and scrubbin' and cookin' for you taking care of me then you are as insane as you look! If you ask me, it's me who has been taking care of you.” Inez shouted right back.

“If you tell one living soul that Burl Jewel's body is missing then I will tell them you are some kind of witch and you stole the body for a voodoo ritual. Don't think I won't. The population is still primarily elven in the Fingers, Miss Temple. They will believe me over the likes of some trampy human orphan. Do you hear me?” He was thinking fast. “If you breath one word, I will tell people you do things to these bodies that come into my funeral home, and they will believe me.”

“That is evil. Evil begets evil.” Inez was scandalized. They would believe him. She knew it, most people hated her based on her race alone.

“Threats, as unkind as they may be, are at times quite useful. If you tell anyone, the sheriff, Mrs. Jewel, a roach as it crawls across the windowsill of MY rundown shack that I so kindly allow you to reside in, I will ruin you. I won't enjoy it. I will agonize over it for eternity. I may even shed a tear as I watch them hang you, but I will have no choice. I will say your words are the vomit of a crazy human woman's twisted mind.”

“I cannot stand by and let you lie to that boy's family. It ain't right.” Inez insisted.

“And I cannot allow you to speak the truth.” “

I can't stay here no more then.”

“I am certain that your absence will be a huge loss to our community,” said Mr. Stoddlemiejer sarcastically.

Inez turned and walked away. She didn't know what else to do. She went to her home and packed what little she possessed, not much more than the clothing on her back. She walked away,without looking back on the swampland that had been her home. It had not been an easy life, but it was all she knew.

At first, she traveled alone across the abandoned plains of Carolain, enjoying the solitude. Then northward she went, toward Andoria, until she finally reached the capitol city. As it rained, she walked up and down every side street looking for just the right inn. Inez didn't have much in the way of cash, but she knew how to work, and she planned to get a job as a barmaid to earn her keep. Finally, she stood on the outskirts of town staring at the Bad Moon Inn. Something about it called to her, for some reason it seemed... familiar. And that was how she found herself walking up the steps of the tavern as the last rain drops fell.

How you were made:
Two years prior, Inez was noticed by the young Lord of the Lands. In another country, he might have been called a prince, and his father the king, but in The Fingers they were just called the Lords of the Land, and no one knew why.

He took Inez out on his pirogue on the bayou to be alone. She thought they were courting, the elven lordling had another idea about their little adventure. When they were far from civilization, he started making advances at Inez. At first, in her innocence, she had no idea what it was he was trying to do.

Before long, it became all too clear.

“Hold still, you stupid bitch. Isn't this what you wanted? What did you think we were going to do out here alone? Talk?” He laughed derisively, “I said hold still!

The slap that followed broke open her lip, and blood flowed freely down her face. The larger man had no trouble over powering the young Inez and what followed changed her forever.

When it was finished and he was adjusting his clothing, Inez jumped out of the boat and stamped through the swamp toward the bank with no mind for 'gators or snakes. She just had to get away from him.

“Fool girl, where are you going?” He yelled after her, “Don't you want a ride back?”

She didn't have an idea in her blond head about where she was going, she just knew she had to get away. Upon reaching the shore, she came to recognize the location. It was a picnic area many people frequented. It even had a little picnic shelter, and it wasn't very far.

In a daze, Inez stumbled toward the shelter. Feeling sick, she laid down on the table beneath the shelter cried into the crook of her arm. Sleep overtook her and she dreamt dark dreams.

At first when she heard the noises she assumed they were part of her dream, the rustling in the bushes, the low growling sounds. When she looked up to see the great tawny cat stalking toward her, she thought it took was part of the dream.

It nudged her with its nose and licked the blood on her thigh and face just before it attacked. The Shifter's beast had won out at the taste of blood, and sensing how weak and defeated Inez was, it took advantage and thought to have an easy meal.

But Inez wasn't done with life yet. She reacted more quickly than she thought possible. Panicked, she somehow managed to climb the picnic shelter and sit atop it. The beast had raked its claws down her legs as she climbed, but she still pulled herself to safety.

The puma could have found a way to the top, but it's human side prevailed and it ran off into the bush.

Sometime later, Inez blacked out and woke up three days later somehow back in her own shack.

Ask her to tell you this story, and then ask which she thinks was the real monster that night. The young lord, or the Shifter?

The Shifter was following it's instincts, the lord however...



Sorry its not my best work, don't have much time. Might work on making the story better later.

[Qoorl]

Anansi listened raptly as the woman wove her tale. To the casual observer who know the least bit of what was going on in the inn, it would seem she had bewitched him, used sorcery or vampiric gifts to entrance him. The truth was only slightly different. There was a reason why the man seemed to control the bloodlust better than anyone else. In truth he didn't REALLY possess it, not the way most others did. Loki's Gift has never been a stable one throughout the ages and the Metamorphosis into the Spinner of Tales was no different. He had an altogether different obsession. Stories. To collect stories drove the man and where tales were present he was enraptured and driven as any vampire or shifter at the scent of blood.

At last she finished and Anansi applauded softly.

"One wonder's what would happen if their Lost Queen were ever to resurface... to gather together her people? It would be an interesting little play at the very least. And now I suppose it falls to me to carry the next bit of...entertainment."

The man stroked his chin for a moment, seemingly lost in though. At last he leaned forward, looked around the room, meeting the gaze of any who would dare, through royal purple lenses.

"This is more of a ghost story than a tale of ancient history. In truth it's little more than gossip within the 'hallowed halls' of the Onyx Tower. It is said that in the capital of glade. There were two brothers... gnomes of course, who loved the same woman. She was a merry lass with a twinkle in her eye and always interested in learning of the world around her, even if she wasn't what one might call... intelligent. The brothers who loved her, One was a necromancer... he harnessed the very forces of life and death, but he was obsessed with his studies, of mastering his power over the undead. The Other was a tinker... and a brilliant one. Though he was just as obsessed with his chosen trade as his brother, he was... more accessible, so to speak."

"While the Necromancer attempted to illuminate the girl as to the dark mysteries of sorcery, the Tinker built her beautiful though not always useful gadgets.... a clockwork music box in the form of a flower bud. It would open it's bronze leaf petals as the song played, A jack in the box with a mechanical nightengale inside. He took her places as well, to the opera...out into the fields...all manner of places."

"Well, it didn't take long for the girl to decide which brother she loved. She was fond of them both to be sure, but the Necromancer...being a bit older, and more bookish, she loved more as a brother, an almost uncle like figure. And how he seathed. When he learned that they were engaged and to be married. He was FURIOUS. He sent for the girl by letter, entreating her to meet him at his tower so that they could discuss plans the wedding. When she came, he took her to the highest floor, where he called upon the darkest acts of the gods. He flayed her soul from her body,stripping away flesh, muscle, sinew and bone. When his foul sorcery was finished he knitted her back together, perfectly and had her transported to the river. Her body was completely intact, even capable of breath. He had it dropped in the river where she would appear to have drowned. Her soul he kept in a gorgeous glass container, with rose colored glass. He could gaze into the bottle and see her memories, see her life unfold in the past. It was the best he could do."

Anansi paused, to look around, trying to gauge the interest of his audience.

"The Tinker was distraught, he didn't know of his brother's treachery, only of his loss. He locked himself away in his workshop and would see no one. The few assistants and servants that managed to sneak a peak saw that he worked feverishly day and night, creating a mechanical replica of his beloved. If there was the slightest imperfection, he would smash it to pieces and begin anew."

"For three years it went on until at last, his magnum opus was complete. To all the world, it looked like a perfect replica of the young gnomish lass, created with thousands of bits of gold leaf, and tin and bronze. The most delicate and precise gears went into the creation. And while it didn't stir, it was a marvel to behold. At last he gazed once more on his beloved, breathed a sigh of wistful contentment and passed away."

"Strangely earlier on that same night, an ill wind swept through the city. The Brother was performing obscure magical calculations involving the stars and so the orrery on the top floor of his tower was open. The wind swept through, knocking aside bottles, snuffing out candles and blowing away papers. This wasn't particularly strange as the occasional storm is common in Glade. What WAS peculiar was the sight that created citizens of that city the next day. The Necromancer, who was a minor celebrity was outside of his tower. Lying in a tangled bloody mess. It appeared almost as if he had hurled himself from the highest level. Stranger still was the perfect bronze statue that stood in the center of the of the room on that highest floor. Even though no one ever saw any movement from the statue, and it was later taken to a museum, where no other mischief was reported, Witnessess swear that it looked just like that young lass that had drowned three years prior, it even had the strangest, lifelike twinkle in the eye."

The Spinner of Tales leaned back now, to take stock of his audience.

"Or at least, that's how the tale goes."

[Hikari]

Destrey blinked as Anansi's anecdote ended. He had never given much thought to magic of any kind. Back in the village, there was no need for such tomfoolery; you either had strength and you prospered or you didn't and you died. Life was simple, too simple, back in Glyn--that was part of the reason he had left. He didn't have any stories of his own that would hold anyone's interest like Anansi's or Keke's, so he kept his mouth shut and listened for the next person to speak up.

[Ninetails 009]

A single clap resounded.

The oppressive silence broke.

As a peal of laughter resonated through the room as the tinkling, shattered shards of silence gave way to noise made anew.

Fraise was smiling and clapping! "I like that Mister! If only I could meet such a person..." Her voice trailed off dreamily as her eyes gazed over. But soon, those sharp pupils regained their focus in a snap.

"I have a story too! Listen! Listen! This is a story that my momma told me~♪" And as the little paced and danced up and down those creaking floorboards, she began.

"Once upon a time. Fingers of lightning nipped their way past the smoky clouds of the night. A deadly fog settled around the village of innocents, a deadly wisp that instilled dread in the hearts of those wandering alone, wandering unprotected, wandering outside. An unsettled delivery man makes his way down the path into the village, riding in his cart. A flash of black, the horse shied, a bone broke, and that was the first death of the night. Somewhere, amidst the thunder, a baby started to cry.

Hush, little baby, don't say a word.
Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird

Somewhere within the village, a house was broken in. A man slid to the floor, a knife in throat. Somewhere within the village, a mockingbird started to sing.

And if that mockingbird won't sing,
Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring

As a scribe sat down burning midnight oil, looking through the marriage registry records, a sudden noise made him look up. A flash of fear in his eyes was the only hint before his heart stopped beating.

And if that diamond ring turns brass,
Mama's gonna buy you a looking glass

And in some loving couple's room, though no one was looking, though everyone was fast asleep, there was a reflection in the perfection of the mirror. Some creature had passed. The couple died.

And if that looking glass gets broke,
Mama's gonna buy you a billy goat

And as the farm animals rustled uneasily at the howling winds, the village dogs began to bark. The farmers who hurried out to calm them were never seen again.

And if that billy goat won't pull,
Mama's gonna buy you a cart and bull

The baby's incessant crying increased. Screams of every village raked the air.

And if that cart and bull turn over,
Mama's going to buy you a dog named Rover

The baby's incessant crying increased. The hearts around stopped beating.

And if that dog named Rover won't bark,
Mama's going to buy you a horse and cart

A shadow fell over the fallen body of the delivery man as the beast began to feast. The crying continued through the night.

And if that horse and cart fall down,
You'll still be the sweetest little baby in town

Finally the baby's crying stopped. And the village was at peace."

Fraise whispered "It's said that that baby was touched by the gods. Who knows what became of it later? But then, what it gained in power was paid for in lives, and maybe the baby herself became immortal later, who knows?"

Then she continued cheerfully "But then it's just a story! Anyway, my mum used to tell me that whenever I had trouble sleeping. It used to calm me down soooooo much. So if you guys happen to have any trouble during your bedtimes, just think of the baby sleeping peacefully, and you will also be so happy that you will be at peace!"

Fraise fell silent again. "And that's my contribution." She smiled.

"By the way, lady" she said, reaching up to the proud, regal woman standing just opposite her. "I like your hair!" The snow white silky hair really was something to admire. And saying that, she started happily pleating it.

[global "Warming"]

He stay silent for a moment. Then he speaks "ok I will tell you about those things, but not here.
Why don't we go and talk at the bad moon inn."

By the way I haven't have a room there. Because when I want to come inside this man came out .
So I answered "Ok then. We shall talk at the inn but I won't trust strangers that somehow knew me but
I don't know anything about him"

Then he show the way to the innn and said "shall we?".
Then I followed him to the inn

[Keke Le Cat]

Head still feeling a bit muzzy, Risk listened attentively to each of the stories. Or at least he tried to. He found it hard to focus on anything at all, and he wanted desperately to keep staring adoringly at the vampire. It was... unsettling.

Even at the deepest part of the hypnosis his wolf was still awake and aware, but unable to respond, unable to fight. It growled inside him and clawed at his insides with razor sharp claws, trying to wake him up, but it was impossible to do so. It was one of the most terrifying experiences of his life. Knowing he was in a trap, a wolf in a trap... It made him want to bay at the moon and suddenly he felt it's pull tugging at him. This close to the full moon, it was hard not to be constantly aware of it.

His wolf wanted to change, it wanted freedom. It wanted to run in the forest, nose to the air. To hunt and to pull down a deer... It needed to...

He shook his head and tried to pull himself together. He listened as the child told her strange story. Something about the girl's appearance tugged at his memory, but he couldn't think why. Something he'd read recently, perhaps? It was so odd, usually he did not pay attention to children at all... He would have to think on it.

Risk stifled a chuckle with a cough as he watched the little girl begin to braid the vampire's hair. A variety of noises fell from her lips. She had started with, “Why thank you, my dea-, ahh. Ahem. Umm... Do you really think that...”

When the girl continued unabated, expressions flitted across Keke's face faster than the wings of a humming bird, until finally she settled upon what passed for 'pouty teenager' or perhaps 'angsty' would be a better description. How old had she been when she was turned? 16? 17? To spend an eternity at that horrible age was mind blowing to Risk.

“Ah well, I suppose it's my turn at tale telling. After your heart rending story of betrayal of the nobility, My Lady, I think it only fitting that I tell 'Mara Tomanas and the Three Foolish Kings.' What say you?” She said nothing, but grunted softly when a strand of hair was pulled perhaps too tightly into the braid. Risk tried not to laugh. “My story comes from a time before the fall of Caralain, before the wilds of Glade had been explored, before even there was a settlement in Glade. The country of Andoria was an upstart nation, and Caralain was most of this continent. Three kings met in the city of Z to discuss treaties. One was a dwarf from the north short but strong, one was a human from Andoria brave and tall, the last was an elf from Caralain, the tallest of the bunch and by far the most fair and full of all the elven graces. A serving maid in the castle where they gathered went by the name of Mara Tomanas. One night she was set to serve in the dining hall when the kings had their supper...”

He wove a fine tale of three nobles who could not be shown the error of their haughty ways.

“And as the kings strove to fish their crowns from the muck of Leech Creek, the dwarf stood covered up to his beard in dark water and said, 'It is as I said it should be.' and the human replied, 'It is as I said it must be.' The elf rose, all caked in mud and declared, 'Now let us all return to the castle for our tea.'

“Mara tucked the last of their crowns into her bag with a clank. She stood on the bridge and proclaimed, 'First I thought to show you what life was like for the common folk of in each of your respective nations, but you were too blind to see. Then I thought to tell you the woes of the farmers in their fields but you were too deaf to hear...' The dwarf interrupted, 'Impertinent young woman!' The human said, 'This shant be born!' and the elf screeched, 'Guards, arrest her for an usurper to my power!' but all their guards had fled at the bee hive.

“Mara said, 'But you are none of you wise enough to hold your tongue. Your castle lies two days walk from here, I hope you enjoy your time together.' and she rode off toward Z, leading the horses of the three kings behind her.

“And that is why, to this day, that bridge is called 'Three Kings Crossing'” He finished with a chuckle, a bow and a flourish of his cloak, as any bard would.

Inez giggled and clapped her hands as she had for each of the stories. “I'm not so sure I'm smart enough to join in with ya'll and your story tellin'. I do know one story...”

She bit her lip and looked uncertainly around, waiting for encouragement before she continued. “I'm Inez, by the way. This is Fraise, and yooooou are?”

(everyone introduces themselves)

Waiting for introductions all around, she met Risk's eye. He smiled and winked at her, and she felt assured that at least someone wanted to hear what she had to say. Keke rolled her eyes, but she tried to ignore it. She had the distinct feeling that nothing pleased that woman for long.

“Once upon a time, in a land far away, there was a girl named Cinderella...” (she tells the story of Cinderella) “...And they lived happily ever after! The end.”

Giggling, Inez bounced on her toes and clapped for her own story unabashedly. “That's always been one of my favorites!” She said, “Happy endings are the best.”

A guffaw burst from Risk's mouth and he tried to cover it with another cough to no avail. Inez asked with wide eyes, “What? What did I say? Why is that funny?”

“Umm, nothing.” Risk said, unable to stop his chuckles. With a smirk he said, “I just I love happy endings too. That's all.”

“I just bet you do.” Keke said with a grin.

“Who doesn't?” Inez asked, blinking in confusion.

“Who indeed,” said Risk seriously.

[dragon_berry]

Arc still watched the boy with disbelieve. The boy doesn’t seem to show a hint about what he was thinking. I still need to make sure whether he’s lying or not. I guess the only thing I can do now is to make him believe that I believed his story and played his little game of ‘amnesia’. But still, I don’t want anyone to hear too much of this conversation. I guess I’ll just have to take him back to the inn. After all, I can’t go out at this climate for too long. Arc wiped his head with his right palm.

“Ok, I’ll tell you about those things, but not here. We should go and talk about this at the inn.” Arc sighed as he felt his head started to ache from the extreme heat.

"Ok then. We shall talk at the inn but I won't trust strangers that somehow knew me but
I don't know anything about him" he replied convincingly

‘Well, I don’t trust you either’ Arc keep the thought to himself. The only word that flowed from his mouth was “Shall we?”

The atmosphere inside the inn has pretty much changed. The inn fell in silent when others sharing some sort of old stories and fairytales. Arc has no other choice but to listen, along with the other.

[The Editor]

Isha noticed that everyone seemed to be staring at her.
"Oh, umm, I'm Isha. I don't know many stories, but I suppose this one will do.

"Millennia ago, long before elves and men, there lived a race now known only as the Old Ones. They were far more advanced than any race we know today, their technology indistinguishable from magic, and they spread across the world and beyond. The Old Ones sought to live in harmony with the plants and animals they encountered, using their skills to shape the trees and rocks naturally into beautiful architecture.

"Above all the Old Ones were driven by a desire to experience everything in life. At first this was limited to knowledge and other noble pursuits, but as the centuries passed they fell to darker pursuits. They felt they had learned all they could of peace and compassion, and now turned to suffering and warfare, preying on each other as well as the lesser beings around them.

"Not all had fallen, however. Some of the oldest and wisest of the Old Ones spoke out against this new direction their race was taking, including Isha, a great healer. Although some listened, many of their words fell on deaf ears. As the Old Ones slipped further into depravity and savagery, a great comet appeared in the sky, and everyday grew larger and larger. Some noticed the fiery object in the sky and realised their doom was at hand. Among them was a torturer calling himself Nurgle, who brewed poisons and diseases to inflict upon those around him. He captured Isha and took her away to a secret place, far from this world, and even now brews diseases that he releases into our world, testing them on Isha to see if the effects will please him. Isha herself will never die, for her knowledge of healing is so great that she can cure herself of any of Nurgle's concoctions.

"As for the Old Ones who remained here, the comet smashed down upon the centre of their empire. From it swept a tide of magic and mutation, and the Old Ones died in agony, a pain greater than any they themselves had ever inflicted. The gods had judged them, and their punishment was annihilation."
She looked around her at the people gathered.
"I guess I need to work on my storytelling..." she said, smiling nervously.

I seem to have gone a bit Chozo/Mordheim...

Ed.

[Ninetails 009]

Room Number: 1

Age: 150

Nationality: Not sure, but he thinks that he's a Gladian. It's been such a long time.

Race: Human

Mutation: 2nd gen Vampire (Demeter)

Name:
ⓙⓞⓚⓔⓡ
ρєт σƒ тнє gσ∂∂єѕѕ

Description:

His motto?
I.I.I
Invisibility. Influence. Information.
The JӨΚΣЯ is watching

Weapon and Power status:
He has two weapons, first is the short steel knife he keeps tucked in his belt. He is weak, this is about the only physical weapon he is capable of wielding. It is more of a warning that he is armed and should not be messed with than a defence, for it is his second weapon that holds the true power.

His second weapon is the staff with the jester's head which he carries around in his left hand all the time. He is no mage, but it is a power enhancer for the mental abilities that he already has. It is also capable of serving as a direct communication tool towards his maker, Demeter, in times of need. This was a parting gift from Demeter for her favourite pet on the day he left. He will do anything but lose it, for he is still very loyal to her.

His powers have all been directly inherited from Demeter herself. As such, the strong psychic is also able to roam freely in the daylight, unhindered by the sun. Seldomly used are also his strong abilities to control the emotions of those around him, or to inflict pain on others merely by the sound of his voice or mind. Of all his powers, the only one he has never touched or experimented with before are his psychic abilities, for having been away from humanoid contact for so long, he prefers not to understand them, or have any contact with their minds.

Personality:
Call him the joker, yet he is anything but. His soul is broken, contorting what is left of his character into some sort of hideous comedy...the kind of clown whom gives children nightmares on the sly. Maybe it is something about his night sky red and blood black personality that creeps into others' souls. This man is a weakling, or so he physically appears, yet there is something unsettling about his presence that makes bystanders, spectators and participants in whatever the comedy of the play of life want to shift uneasily in their seats, then gradually murmur some silent excuse before hurriedly moving away. No, this broken character can be called anything but happy.

He looks weak. Shrivelled. As it is, his muscles are so weak as to not even be able to swing a wooden sword to the extent of his strength and might. Dressed in the jester's garb, he wanders, friendless so far. Many a times has he been threatened-; to get out of bars, to leave the town, sometimes even being the object of ridicule from the strong, axe-wielding drunkards whom roam the night, slavishly searching for prey to beat up to impress their girlfriends. Many a times has he been seized by the scuff of his neck, a foreign fist aimed towards his face, only for a gleam in his eyes to stop his attacker in his tracks. The hand is then let down, the jester released, with a mockingly merciful "I'll let you off this time, you bastard!" from his assailant, as if in a gesture to redeem their character. Yes, this kind of scenario, he's seen it all. Little do those muscled warrior men know that the darkness is his true domain, whereupon they are unsuspecting and gratefully ignorant intruders upon what is rightfully his. As the daywalker he is, he does not fear the light, yet what he enjoys...is the night.

He does not talk. Much. It is not that he did not like talking, it was more like his voice had fallen so far off rusty through the years of misuse and disuse, that he hardly knew what to do with it anymore. Did anyone bother talking to him, except to yet again curse him as the haint whom had once again apparated on the doorstep of their innocent town? No. So he remains silent.

It is not known whether he loves anything, if he was to actually love something, it would be a longing for the comfort of his mother's womb, and to feel the tender hug of someone, anyone, even the priests who were currently burning him at stake at the moment. But no matter how many times they burnt him, he never really did truly die. Disintergrate his body did, but the ashes would somehow, fumbling and clumsily, regenerate themselves, piecing this jigsaw of a body puzzle piece by puzzle piece, together again. No spell or curse, incantation, holy recital or morbid blessing could stop that. Long ago, he used to despair at this, now he more or less does not even think of it anymore. Immortality...the curse.

If he is fond of anything, you could say that he is fond of the plants, and their growth and bloom. It is the greenery and the grass which do not opposite, which, inversely, respect him, as one of theirs. The law and creation of his mother maker the goddess of grain have passed, with equal power, into his obeying, wielding hand. He is the master of those living which does not talk, those living considered by others as the lowest life forms, those living considered by others as simple prey for the taking, those living not even felt worth considering by the animals and the humaniods. He is the master of what is thought is the weakest power- the master of the plants.

So, aimless for the moment, he's just wandering around to bide his time. Just another one of those homeless drifters you chance by on the street. Just another one of those ghosts you from the corner of your eye, sitting in a dark alley. Just another pathetic guy waiting to be bullied...until you actually try, of course. And maybe, just maybe, he'll like to try killing someone one day.

Background:
Joker has forgotten his original name, but he does remember a thing or two about his past. He used to be a wandering flautist, a well dressed young man, loving to play on the plains. The notes of the melody drifting far across the green fields, corn yellow grains and bright blue sky was just so soothing...he used to be a peace lover, he thinks. And he thinks that he may have been a bit proud. That was what got him into his predicament in the first place.

It was the energetic, sweet and lively piping tunes of that flute that called down darkness and lightning from the skies above. The world blacked out, and dizzy from the sensation, the young man stumbled and fell. It was then, amongst the darkness, that the man opened his eyes, face facing the heavens, to be greeted by the briefest flash of the awe-inspiring sight. As the lightning lit up the heavens for the most minute of seconds, the young man was greeting by the most dazzling of colours...a rainbow. But as the world blacked out again, he remembered thinking...It's too big, it's too close...this was no ordinary rainbow. All of a sudden, the noise stopped, the lightning stopped, the darkness lifted, and everything returned to normal. Birds were singing on the trees. Except for one thing. In the empty space in front of him, now stood a woman. The most breathtaking woman he had seen in his life.

She took a step forward and bent down, gently caressing his face with a single snow and silky smooth hand. He barely registered soft golden curls cascading around him. She spoke.

"Such a lovely tune...what a proud, handsome face...what arrogance and dignity...what say you be with me for a while?" she murmured. And then, she lent even lower and kissed him long and lovingly on the neck.

He was not sure when the kiss turned into a bite, when the comfort turned into the pain of two sharp fangs piercing into his skin, but he did remember thinking and knowing one thing: This was wrong. He tried to move away, he really did. He tried to resist. But what was left of his body simply hung limply there in her arms, his limbs turned to flop. The felt the tug and rush of the liquid suck out of his body, he fell down as nothing but a lifeless and empty doll, devoid of blood, devoid of life. Yet once again there was a soft, gentle voice whispering in his mind. "Drink my blood. You love it, you lust it, you crave it dear...go on, lap it all up..." and now the woman was taking out a knife, slicing herself right above the chest, and the smell of that golden ichor was just so tanalizing...but no, he tried to resist. Once again, he really did. But the voice in his head was moving his heart, moving his mind, moving his body, moving his lips, moving his fangs...and he bit down.

"Your dignity, I'll take it away, Joker." And that was how he gained his name.

And so the deed was done. The goddess Demeter took him not as her musician, not as her companion, but as her pet. And her pet he was. He learnt to play the violin, he learnt to play the fool. He learnt to take her beatings when she got angry, when it wasn't his fault but she simply wanted to hit something, something, and he would do perfectly well as a target. He learnt to sit in with the Vanir's council discussions, he learnt to cultivate hatred in his heart for the enemies of his mistress. He learnt to be useful to her, he learnt to be invisible when she merely wanted to be alone but still required a servant, he learnt to lose himself and throw his heart and mind into nothing but her, her, her. And on the hundredth and oneth day, when he was finally set free, he learnt how to live again.

On the 3rd day, when he finally awoke, the goddess had been in a rage. Moody through the day, her patience had finally broken when her new disoriented servant boy, her pet, had awoken in the chambers where she had placed him and yelled out in fear. In her rage, she tore into him, her long fingernails scraping to shreds every article of clothing he wore, turning to rags that perfectly tailored immaculate suit, until finally the young man lay at her feet, shivering and weak. At whereupon she had thrown upon him the red and black jester's suit and the chains of a slave, ordering him to wear it, for that would be his new uniform for now...and wear it for the rest of his life. That was one order he did obey, even after being released from his servitude. Indeed, the day he left Vanaheimr and traipsed down the rainbow bridge, he was wearing it. And he would wear it for evermore.

So now, turned at twenty, the man wanders around frozen in time, soul suspended in animation. He merely...wanders. He does visit his goddess and creator from time to time, but she knows that he holds more fear than affection towards her in his heart. She still does quite like her pet though, and bestows him with gifts from time to time, but mostly, he is now left to his own devices. And this is where the history moves into the present, and the present begins.

тнє נσкєя ιѕ ωαт¢нιηg

[dragon_berry]

I don’t know much about fairytales and legends since no one ever told me much. But I guess a little self-introduction would be nice. Hence, I do have one story. Arc thinks to himself when the woman next to him finished her story.

“Once, there was a young little fox raised by a flock of birds on a big tree. The fox loved its new family as they loved him. The birds treated the fox as their own child and live happily with the other birds until it’s time for his first flight. While the other birds could fly after a few tries, the fox couldn’t able to fly. The other birds mocked the fox and its parents and banished them from the tree. The fox felt really sad and upset so he decided to know what he actually is.”

“One day, the fox went back to the tree. The birds haven’t forgotten the fox and keep mocking him, although they allowed the fox to live in the tree. What the birds knew is that the fox is the old flightless bird they raised. And each night afterward, the fox throw away his bird custom and ate the birds one by one... until none were left” Arc paused on the last sentence and looked at the others.

“Sorry, that’s the only story I know” Arc smiled as he overcome his nervousness

[smurf]

Room Number: 11
Name: Ethardor Sole
Age: 16
Nationality: Andoria
Race: Human
Mutation: WereBison
Weapon : Two-Handed Sword Called Narthaas(pitcure later)

Description: Lightly build with a thin, and tall body. Eth eyes were bright red. His elf ears haven’t changed by the mutation. His feet were a merge between bison's feet and human’s feet. He also got a pair of bison's horns which he think was cool on his head. He always wear his green nobles clothes and his green shorts and a green hooded robe to hide his horn although its shape of his horn is still visible.

Background: his wealthy life made him tired. He also had never been out of his home environment. Finally he ran away from home

How Arc was made: Born as a nobleman gave him the pleasure that everybody from the lower classes always wants. But he does not like to live as a nobleman. Every day he looked out from his window and from the yard to see the children in his age plays freely. The only thing he likes in the house was just fighting lesson.
Eventually he escaped from his house and suddenly he was attacked by werebison. He managed to stay alive but his life will never be the same again. After he realized that he could not return to his old house, he immediately went to the badmoon inn.

[global "Warming"]

I know that he's sill hiding something.

"Just tell me everything please" I asked nicely.

*sorry I got headache lately. so dizzy to write

[Qoorl]

Anansi grinned like a maniac, drinking in the stories like fine wine.

"Excellent, every tale a masterpiece. Truly this is a fortuitous gathering. We have the high and mighty and the low and humble. Old and Young. I DO wonder why these little Jotlings are so far into civilization though. Anyone have any theories, or should we just wait and see what we find out towards the farmlands?"

He paused again and looked around.

"Oh yeah, I've paid up my tab and have a round bought if anyone wants anything to drink. Just ask old Robespierre at the bar, he won't mind. He may seem gruff but he's really the cuddly panda of gruff gnomish barkeeps."

[Ninetails 009]

"Can I have a sundae? Please please pretty please? With strawberry ice cream? And chocolate topping?" Fraise looked sideways from her task, momentarily distracted at the thought of the luscious dessert.

She finished the braiding of the lovely woman's hair, and then starting tying pink frilly ribbons at the base of them.

"Just ten more of these and you'll look SO CUTE!" She squealed.

[Qoorl]

Anansi's grin widened and he actually clapped at the young girl's hairstyling prowess.

"Well, the girl certainly knows what she wants. Robespierre! Get that girl a Sundae! And I totally agree... only I believe a DOZEN pink ones would be more perfect, or perhaps you could mix in some purple ones? I'm partial to purple myself. Robes, give me another Mai Tai please."

The man grabbed the drink and took a powerful chug.

"And Madame Camillia, I must say, I applaud your patience. Truly you are a princess among women."

With a wink, he turned his attention back to the rest of the group, seeing if they had any more tales.

[Keke Le Cat]

Keke arched a snowy white brow at Anansi's grin. Was the man drunk? How very rare.

"And Madame Camillia, I must say, I applaud your patience. Truly you are a princess among women."

"Oh, you have no idea..." She whispered under her breath.

Smiling in an absent way she let her eyes wander around the room. She was trying very hard to be very nice. At least her efforts were not going unnoticed.


~~~

Inez listened attentively as everyone spoke, though not as attentively as Anansi seemed to. It was interesting to hear all the different inflections and tones that each individual used as they said each word.

~~~

Uncontrollably, Risk's eyes were drawn back to Camilla, again and again. What had she done to him?

“In the name of the gods.” He muttered, rubbing his hands roughly across his face. Breaking contact with the woman seemed to help. But why then was he looking at her again, and what was she gazing at so attentively?

He followed the line her eyes made and found a man drinking at the bar. His head was leaned upon his hand, elbow bent and resting on the bar. The long line of his neck was displayed, and she was staring raptly at the ticking pulse point. She was all but drooling.

“If you approach him, I will be forced to tell him to be wary of you.” He whispered.

“No one has ever accused you of being the life of the party, have they?” She whispered back, a slight smirk twisting her red painted lips.

“Not lately, no.” He replied seriously.

“You know, they say lycanthrope blood is quite the delicacy.” She smile lasciviously at him, in a way he usually smiled at women. “Why don't you let me have a little taste, Ducky?”

He looked to Anansi for help, but she said, “Oh, don't think the Spider can save you from me, my little puppy.”

Before he realized what he was doing he took a step back and bared his teeth, his shoulders hunching like a wolf's hackles rising. A low growl rumbled up from his belly and he fought the urge to Shift.

The wolf was cornered, and it wanted out. It wanted to fight the vampire, it wanted to hunt her. To clamp strong jaws down upon her slender white throat, to... He shook his head. He tamped down on the urges surging through him.

Camilla tossed her head back and laughed, “Oh, relax, won't you? You are turning out to be such a bore.”

His cheeks flushed and he took another step backward. He couldn't believe he had let her get to him. Face blazing like the noon day sun, he fought his beast and fought the desire to slap her silly. That was all him, and he knew it. He wanted to paddle her bottom. Someone needed to teach her some manners.

He crossed his arms to keep his hands from reaching for her and bending her over his knee for the spanking of her life. Powerful muscles bulged as he glared about him, hands held in tight fists.

Spontaneously, he laughed. She looked so ridiculous with all the pink ribbons in her hair that it was almost worth the hassle she put him through. Was that what karma was all about?

[Qoorl]

Anansi polished off the Mai Tai and moved over toward Risk now.

"Allright buddy boy, The pretty pink princess is getting under you collar. I think it's time you had a good stiff drink and took your attention off her for a moment. She's not gonna drain your....ahem, blood, right here in front of everyone, and so you can't show her your heh heh, stuff out in plain view either. In fact, I suggest your best course of action at this point is to Have a Drink and A. focus on the upcoming battle with Jotlings.... or B. focus your attention on one of the other fine females presented here for your viewing pleasure in this esteemed establishment. Not the kid though, then I'd have to bleed you in front of everyone here, and I really should keep all my ass kicking cards close to the vest. No I suggest the cute little thing with the interesting hat. Robespierre, water."

He took the water now and took a sip, if only to keep up illusions. THe alcohol he could pass off but he was really thirsting for some sort of hard core poison right now and that just wouldn't do right here in front of everyone.

"Yes, definately her. I'd talk to her myself," He took a moment to make a little bow to Inez, "Ma'am. Ahem, but I've got to steel my resolve for the upcoming bloody festivities. Speaking of which, you lot are all descended in your own way from the Man himself, the Lokster.... so you killing Jotnar is like slaying family. Odd isn't it?"

[Keke Le Cat]

"Oh no." Said Inez, waving her hands in the air. "I'm not related to any Jotlings or Loksters. I'm a Temple from The Fingers. I'm related to some of the Devereuxs and Bonaparts, but not any Jotlings. At least I don't think so."

Tilting her head to the side she blinked wide eyes the color of the sky and tried to make heads or tails from what he'd said. She smiled openly, inquisitively. "How do you know these Jotlings and Loksters? They friends of yours?"

~~~

Silently, Risk took the man's advice and ordered up a tequila. He tossed it back and slammed the glass down on the table. It was too close to the moon to get so het up, the man was right. Dory certainly wouldn't approve of his, ahem, association with the elf.