The Rutly Custard, RP

There was a loud slam from across the tavern. Dyxi awoke with a start from her nightmare filled sleep nearly toppling from the bench. The fire from the room gleamed in her eyeas she looked around vaguely recalling falling in to this fitful sleep on a bench in the Dusken Draft in Gloamwood. This was nothing compared to the fear she felt the day Regulos opened our world to his hell. That day, he took everything. Whats a seventeen year old priest of the vigil supposed to do against the armies of Regulos? Needless to say the entire village was razed to the ground in a few moments. That was the day that Dyxi was chosen by the Vigil to have a second chance, a chance to fight. No one seeks out this responsibility, she was chosen for qualities she didn't even know she had.

Jumping up from the bench Dyxin took a hold of her fabled hammer, Gorsha's Brainspliter, and rallies some of the weary guards resting at the tavern.
"Come my Friends, We must survive untill the food supply from Silver Glade is here!"
"I cant fight any more, mylady" strained one of the soldiers
"The Vigil will bless us, Come brother we fight untill the end!"
With that Dyxi ran out the doors and headlong into a mob of werewolves who were currently attempting to see just how many pieces the town crier could be ripped into.



(ooc): Thanks for the proof read Alithel

Meanwhile a strapping young lad sat slouched at the bar with a pint half full in front of him. His name was Anoman and he had recently lost his fiance to a rift invasion. He had done all he could to save her, but had become overrun. A sneaky fire goblin grabbed her as Anoman was holding back the Commander of the invasion. He was three or four drinks deep when he heard Dyxi yell or assistance with the werewolf invasion. He at first thought it was his beloved fiance, Eudaimonia. He turned to look and was instantly astonished by her beauty. Anoman quickly chugged his pint, grabbed his sword, and ran to her assistance.

"Naturally," griped a slim blonde seated at a stereotypically dark table in the corner of the room. At first glance she seemed classically pretty almost sweet until you noticed the sarcastic smirk almost constantly plastered to her face. Stubbornly she took another swig of her freshly ordered ale. Since she had become ascended, or as she rather liked to refer to it, become "special", she'd had to waste much more ale than she was accustomed to. After a long day of killing unreasonably disgusting spiders for their entrails, for reasons one just didn't like to consider, a girl liked to sit down, get a little tipsy and then fall into a rather less than comfortable bed. Unfortunately more often than not something else cropped up that demanded her attention. Today seemed to be no exception to that norm. When it seemed that whatever was going on wasn't going to go away on it's own she drained her glass and stood. She stalked forward and dragged her war hammer from her back brandishing the hefty blunt metal with a sort of sadistic glee. She closed her eyes long enough to call forth her faerie and then darted towards the door grabbing an unattended flask on the way.

The cloaked figure at the end of the bar, trying to enjoy his wine, looked up as all the loud people began to move to the door. He had heared the call just as all the rest of the patrons had. He knew what waited for them all out side. Under normal cercumstances he would have let them to there fate. But he also knew that if he did not intervene on there behalf that the weres would interuppt his drinking anyway. So with little fanfare he rose from his stool and grabed his bow. He was the legendary Thornbite after all...he had a reputation to uphold. Takeing one last look at his half full glass. " The sacrifices i make to save the little peoples" With a "sigh" the greatest ranger ever known slowly walks out the door.

As the door to the tavern slammed shut what at first looked like a pile of bloodied armor begrudgingly awoke, still hung-over from the last night’s drinks. Kamui a veteran warrior of the Tubafore Clan of the dwarves was the only survivor left of not only his family but his entire clan.  Many of his clan had been among those chosen to fight the armies of Regulos.  All but Kamui had fallen under their claws and blades. So Kamui sat alone most nights and did not celebrate the day’s victories, because for a dwarf there was no celebration without your family and friends.  Most nights he sat alone and drank trying to forget the horrors of the day’s battles, and of the friends now lost.

BAM!!! All of a sudden someone or something crashed into the outside wall of the tavern on which Kamui was leaning.

“All right, all right I’m up no need to make so much noise so early in the morning.” The bar tender looked over at the battle worn dwarf.

“You do realize it’s nearly night, you’ve been asleep on the floor all day, and I didn’t dare wake you since you were sitting there still clutching your maces,” muttered the bar tender. The dwarf stopped and thought for a second.

“Well if it is so late then I guess it is time for another drink.” Just at that moment the door flung open and one of the residents came in screaming “HELP, HELP!!” Kamui grabbed his head as the shrill sound of the young woman’s screaming made his headache throb worse.

“Dammit! Fine, I’ll help but can we please try and make this a quiet battle?” Kamui slipped on his horned helmet, tightened his grip on his two maces and screamed “FOR …” but stopped and winced on the loudness of his own voice. Then in an intense whisper Kamui shouted “FOR TUBAFORE!!!!” as he ran out the door into the fray.

Leaping through the blood mist that was the town crier, Dyxi plants her hammer between the werewolf's shoulders where his  head was just moments before, as the fight rages on Dyxi realizes that she is very out numbered, just as she is forced to retreat several ascended barrel through the door of the inn. Weapons in hand and a fight in mind. Sight of reinforcements renews Dyxi's vigor, summoning a healing mist around her, Dyxi gathers what strength she has left to finish off this assault. 

In a dimly lit room where 4 candles burn close together forming a wax mound. A hooded figure is dismantling weapons and armor from a trek in the Scarlet Gorge. The figure removes his dark hood and he begins work on a bloody halberd he looted from a Bahmi warrior who met his demise as his life was drained from his body.
The figure is named Vino, a High Elf from the borders of Gloamwood and Silverwood. He calls forth his minion, a skelatal rogue, and tells him to bring him his tools from the old wooden chest.
Vino stops working on the disarmament of the weapon and goes over to his massive bookshelf of tomes and scrolls, and pulls down a large parchment paper book adorned with bone and ebony lettering. The book is titled "Libro De Los Muertos" written by an old Mathosian sage ages ago. Vino turns the pages carefully as they are old and fragile, but powerful in the knowledge it bears. Vino finds the incantation he is looking for "Feign Death".
"This is what I need to learn to deceive my foes!", Vino says adamantly!....He goes back to his workbench and sits next to his candles and begins studying his new spell....

Alithel burst through the front door of the inn. She knocked back the stolen beer and chucked the mug to the side taking a scant moment to survey the scene before her. A rookie cleric thumped down in front of her almost of her toes. In one fluid motion she joined the fray. One unfortunate lesser werewolf made the unfortunate decision to run face first into her hammer. It's grotesque skull split only to be replaced by that of a somewhat more worthy foe. Ali smashed a swath through the mass of stinking furry bodies. She sensed the massive body before she saw it. She took two steps back and looked up into the face of the most massive werewolf she had ever seen.

"Charge!" Anoman roared as he thrust his sword in the air towards the massive beast. As he ran in the direction of the monster he banged his sword against his shield taunting him to attack. The beast bit at the notion and charged headlong at Anoman. The first strike glanced off of his shield, and Anoman took the moment to throw in a counterblow. His sword grazzed the side of the werewolf's head and cleaved his left ear straight off. The Werewolf was not happy. He came back with a claw directly to the sternum of Anoman. Anoman bounced back a few steps and fell to the ground. He was amazed how he felt after receiving a refreshing spell by a Cleric, named Dyxi. He took a brief second, as he was getting to his feet, to give a thankful glance her way. As he looked back to the beast, he noticed another strike quickly coming at him. His shield once again went up to block. He continued to use his shield to gain footing. Anoman could see he was not alone. As he fought back to his feet, many people joined in on the fight...