It Always Starts in a Tavern

Ash, told that she is to remain in the castle walls for her safety, seeks to relieve herself of today’s stresses with a night on the town with her childhood friend Zedash. Donning a common disguise, leather hunting gear with the short brown hair on the top of her head tied back in a bun. She climbs out the window in her tower chambers, down to the gardens and rushes to the Rustiron Tavern where her friend waits outside the front door. A lively scene dominates the atmosphere both in an outside the biggest tavern in the city. Drinks flow freely and a group of drunken dwarves sing shanties louder than any other patron. All manner of man or woman come in and out of Rustiron, hoping to join in on the evening festivities. Big and small, pale, tanned, red and blue, this is the place to be tonight.

A loud commotion from the front of the tavern after an hour or so into the night is nothing new to Zedash. She’s a frequent attendee of Rustiron and its quite often that someone gets a little too drunk and starts brawl. Sometimes she even comes out in hopes that a drunken debtor tries to weasel his way out of a payment, it means that she can swoop in and sing a calming tune to end the sordid affair. Though it doesn’t always work, it makes Zedash feel good to see smiles on peoples faces, and it doesn’t hurt that a smile means an extra gold piece or two lands in her pocket. As the sounds of the brawl get louder she starts to pick out which song she’ll want to sing tonight. A quick tap on Ash’s shoulder to let her know she’ll be back and Zedash begins walking over to the front of the tavern. It’s often that a brawl breaks out in this tavern, less often that blood gets spilled, but never before has Zedash seen a man bite into the neck of a patron as another tears at their leg. She looks on in horror as four people mindlessly shamble their way into the bar, patrons shout in fear, running to the back of the room or upstairs to hide behind locked doors. Zedash is frozen in fear for a moment before Ash’s strong hand grabs her own to pull her away from the scene. Patrons are rushing by as fast as their feet will carry them, pushing and shoving each other in attempts to save their lives. One of the patrons shove Zedash to the side, sending her to the floor. Her eyes dart back to the scene at the front doors. The shambling quartet have moved halfway into the tavern, taking a dozen lives by her estimation. Her vision is then blocked by a cobalt blue hand reaching down to help her to her feet. Following the hand to it’s owners face reveals a highly charismatic smile below two vibrant silver eyes, with a mop of messy white hair sitting between two curved horns that disappear behind his head.

Karma pulls the pretty lady to her feet, standing beside what he assumes to be her friend. She dusts off her leather coat and the skirt underneath, brushing her thick curly black hair out of her eyes. Her friend rushes over with a couple bows and some arrows in hand, probably taken off the body of some of the patrons, willingly or not, Karma opts not to ask. He has his own dagger in his belt straps but accepts a crossbow from her anyway. The three of them turn to face the mindless group approaching them, apparently prepared to put up a fight. Karma’s been in his fair share of scrapes as hes traveled across the many regions of Pendin. With the stars as his guide he’s seen plenty of interesting encounters. But when the stars pointed him toward the capital city of the Lindock kingdom, he didn’t expect to be attack on his first night! In a tavern no less, though thinking back, weird tavern conflicts do seem to happen more often that he realized. He’s distracted again, these things are getting closer. Karma can feel the magic start to course through his body, seemingly aware of the present threat. It reaches the tips of his fingers as sparks of lightning scorch the air around his palm. He doesn’t always like to fight, but there’s no better show than a dance with death. They’re spread across the tavern now, any hope of an exit through the front door is cut off, the odds are in the enemy’s favor. Or at least they were, until a large clockwork construct bursts through the door behind them.

Overhearing the shouts and cries for help in the tavern nearby, Hemming carefully deposits the supplies he was carrying to the temple outside the front door. He scans the area checking for anyone who might try to take the pack full of medicine and towels, nobody catches his attention. He moves a dead body to the side and gently swings open the door to the Rustiron tavern. The sight is grim but it doesn’t move him, death is not a foreign concept. Hemming unlatched the halberd attached to his back, and slams the base of it on the ground, drawing the attention of two of these mindless creatures. It is clear to Hemming that their minds have been altered and the form is unnatural, it is his duty as a servant of Arbador to preserve the sacred transition from life to death. It is clear that these creatures did not make the transition, Hemming will do his duty.