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[Maverick-Werewolf]

Along the many grand, stone roads of the Achaean Empire, numerous inns had cropped up to accommodate weary travelers. This was one such inn, a little place along the road connecting Piera to the Tall Fort. From here, a traveler could see much on a crisp day: they could see many rolling farmlands, and the hilly orchards of Appledale far in the distance. Looking back, they might even be able to spy the tall cities of Piera and even Whitehorn in the distance.

 

The inn itself was fairly cozy, not really suited for a large traveling party but perfect for a smaller one, and it even had a stable outside for horses and other travel animals. It had a fairly sizable downstairs, with numerous tables and chairs, and an innkeeper, his wife, and his daughter running the place. They were nice enough, all kindly peasant folk trying to make an honest living. The food and ale was good, and at night, the inn was lit with the warm glow of wooden chandeliers and assorted candles, along with a crackling fireplace.

 

Every upstairs room was laid out the same: two beds, each with their own nightstand and chest for holding goods, with one window in between them. The furnishings were simple but effective, not too rich and not too poor.

 

---

 

 

But for the riders approaching the inn and stables now, they could see nothing of the pleasant views for the thin, misty rain turning their whole world grey and shrouding everything in fog. It coated their suits of armor in a layer of fine moisture, making them shimmer all the more as they approached the lantern hanging outside the inn.

 

Heading the large group of riders were the proud Templars, clad in all their red, gold, and silver, spangled in the stars of Astra Aeterna. At the front of the group rode Knight-Captain Stevan Rolf in his winged helmet, alongside Lady Mina Tamaria. None of the Templars were arranged in any particular rank or file, though they rode in a disciplined formation: Sarael Raia, Malvolio Borgia, Gauvain Frigidian, Irena Cathas, and Sebastian Leclair.

 

Joining the Templars and taking up the center of the group were the black-clad Inquisitors, headed by Inquisitor-General Sir Tobias du Edrimark. Flanking him were Ben Blackburn, Kristina Reyne, Mettius Tibur, Evan Ebonstone, Cicero Silius, Lucy Augustus, Augustin Caesar, and lastly, Yaroslava Sturm, with her black moosehound Shade walking alongside her steed.

 

Riding silently at the back of the group was one pair of Venatori, partnered up for this mission: Hadrian Holt and Grey Blackwell.

 

The horses were growing tired. They had been informed of several places they could go next to continue their investigation, but they had yet to agree on which one took priority. Such matters could be discussed easily at this inn, where they would take up residence for the night. After all, if they would have to get used to working together, and they hadn't eaten supper yet. They had been riding for hours, and they could stand to have a nice meal instead of food eaten on the road.

 

Right now, it seemed discussion of their mission would be put aside in favor of their immediate needs. This inn seemed like the perfect place to do that. Shade clearly agreed, as the hound trotted up to the door and looked back at them with his bright pink tongue lolling out.

 

Once the horses and mules were stabled, the large party of Templars, Inquisitors, and the two Venatori entered the inn. The innkeeper's jaw dropped the second he saw them, and the tankard he'd been wiping off very nearly fell right out of his hands. But he promptly set it down and got ready to fix some food and drinks.

 

"I, uh - don't have enough room to accommodate quite so many, milords," said the innkeeper, sounding like a nervous wreck to see so many finely-clad Imperial officials saunter into his humble establishment. "I certainly have enough food and drink, but I'm afraid several of you will have to share rooms."

 

Stevan arched a brow, glancing over one large shoulder to everyone else. "We can manage," he said optimistically, offering the innkeeper a smile. He promptly went over to the bar to order himself some food and a drink, setting his helmet down on the counter beside him and pushing the coif off his head and neck, which fell away from his scarred throat.

 

Meanwhile, the others started to split up. The innkeeper's wife and daughter were serving food and drinks. Yaroslava took a seat in the corner with her cheerful dog and started sharing her food with him, but as she sat down she remarked to everyone present, "Whoever bunks with me is bunking with Shade, too."

 

Ben grunted something in disapproval at that idea, sitting in his own corner apart from his fellow Ebonguard and her hound. He finally removed his helm for the first time since anyone had met him and put it on the table beside him as he accepted an ale from one of the serving women, propping a guitar - which he'd carried in from his horse's saddle - against the wall by his side while he focused on drinking for the time being.

 

Sebastian, however, shrugged and said, "I'm not choosy. I can sleep on the floor, if need be." With that, he went over to join Stevan at the bar and eat his meal.

 

Well, that was it. After they ate their fill, they'd have to pick one or two people to share a room with. It was time to get acquainted. In the morning, they could decide where to go next.

 

 

 

((Welcome to Damnatio Memoriae. Just to kick things off, I'm going to shove everyone straight into some character interaction, before you decide exactly how you want to pursue Letom and try to find his trail. So now's the time to mingle with your fellow players and the NPC companions, all of whom will - of course - be very important in the coming adventures.

 

Oh, and since the inn doesn't have many rooms, as mentioned... be sure to pick someone, or two or three someones, you would like to share a room with. No, not that way. Still, this might just be your first choice and consequence.

 

You can find an updated player list, including the NPCs, at the end of the starting post for the Damnatio Memoriae sign-up thread. Be sure to check the NPC Companions thread for further descriptions of your other traveling partners, listed under the section for this campaign. Have fun!))

[Burger Warrior]

Mettius Tibur sighed, pulling on his helmet before dismounting his horse. For most of the ride he’d left the metal bucket off, knowing he couldn’t risk taking it off once they were inside an enclosed space. Hell, even having it off outside was a risk, but it was one he was willing to take. At least if anything happened out there, he could discharge his energies with less of a chance of hitting anyone, or anything. Not that Mettius had actually had to deal with that before, thanks to his caution, mostly… but it was something he had to take into account, and he had heard it was a problem among other Gifted.

 

In any case, the Ebonguard glanced at the other Inquisitors and Templars around him as he headed along toward the door of the inn. There were quite a few women in the party, though Mettius tried not to let their appearances distract him from the task at hand. He hadn’t really had much contact with the opposite gender since his recruitment into the Inquisition, and he found that when he did he ended up being rather awkward. Thus, he made a mental note to give them some distance as he stepped into the humble establishment, his armor and weaponry clanking as he moved to one side of the door. Crossing his arms with a whine of void iron joints, Tibur watched in studied silence as one of the Templars - dressed in ridiculously decorated armor - traded some words with the innkeeper.

 

"I, uh - don't have enough room to accommodate quite so many, milords," said the innkeeper, sounding like a nervous wreck: for good reason, too. "I certainly have enough food and drink, but I'm afraid several of you will have to share rooms."

 

They had to share rooms.

 

Mettius’s eyes widened, and he quickly looked for a channeler he could bunk up with. The two Inquisitors that weren’t clad in Void Plate were the only possible ones, and… they were both females. Tibur’s heart sank at the thought, and a few beads of sweat formed on his forehead. Asking a girl to share a room was bad enough on its own; when that was necessary to keep the inn from possibly freezing solid, or to prevent awkward questions, it was much worse. The Ebonguard chewed his lip, watching members of the party beginning to spread out. If he was going to make a move, it would have to be soon…

 

But, as much as he tried, he was paralyzed with indecision. Maybe I can get away with a room by myself…?

 

-----

 

Irena Cathas had her nose buried in one of her tomes when she heard the other riders begin to come to a halt. Blinking, she glanced up at the rest of the group to find they had reached an inn, and they were all beginning to dismount. Sighing, Irena tucked her tome away with the others in her bag, sliding off her donkey before leading it into the stables herself. Cathas hummed a hymn quietly as she did so, making sure her mount was secure and fed before quietly following the party up to the inn. Being at the rear, she found herself near the pair of Venatori that, for whatever reason, had decided to join them. They’d caught her interest from the start, but Irena hadn’t found time to actually speak with them.

 

As they all stepped into the inn, though, the Templar found that she could know pose her questions to the hardbitten men while the other members of her order and the Inquisition sorted out rooms and food. She heard something about sharing rooms as she trailed after the two men, and wondered if one of the other women in the party would mind her presence.Irena could ask around after she had her answers.

 

Thus, before Hadrian or Grey could get far, Cathas cleared her throat. “Pardon me,” she said, her voice soft, gentle, and rather quiet. Still, there was something about it that made it audible over the sounds of the rest of the combined parties getting settled for the evening. “I’ve been meaning to ask now, but I never had the chance… why are Venatori accompanying us?” Irena finally asked, meekly glancing between the two men.

[Harry Monster Princess]

Hadrian Holt trudged into the inn, shaking the bit of dampness from his blue cloak and pulling the hood from his head. He walked over to the bar with his partner, Venator Grey Blackwell, trailing behind. But Hadrian didn't get far before he heard someone clear their throat. “Pardon me,” she said, her voice soft, gentle, and rather quiet. She was clearly trying to speak up to be heard but Hadrian was still struggling to catch what she was saying, and he squinted at her, trying to listen over the din of the inn. “I’ve been meaning to ask now, but I never had the chance… why are Venatori accompanying us?” Irena finally asked, meekly glancing between the two men.

 

The Venator furrowed his brows at her, scrutinizing her demure appearance and monastic attire. "I feel I could ask you the same," Hadrian replied with a grunt. He didn't want to say any more without getting something into his stomach, so he motioned for the Templar Monk and Blackwell to follow him to the bar. The silver-haired man yanked out a stool and gratefully sat down, happy to rest after a long day of riding. He cordially flagged down the barkeep, and ordered some food: a small plate of bread, a wedge of cheese and a slice of meat with some ale.

 

It wasn't long before Hadrian's food arrived, followed shortly by Blackwell and the Monk. Hadrian tore a chunk from the bread with his teeth and chewed it slowly as they took their seats. Firstly, Hadrian turned to his partner.

 

"Order whatever you want, boy. My treat. But eat lightly," Hadrian cautioned. "Tomorrow the hunt begins. And you will treat it as seriously as any other quarry you've faced before," He scratched at his white beard and grumbled to himself. "Maybe even more so, this isn't exactly our area of expertise."

 

He took a drink and turned to look the Monk in the eye. "We hunt those who hunt the innocent. Our prey are the monsters who seek the blood of men. That's all the reason a Venator needs." Hadrian stated, his voice firm with righteous conviction. "So tell me, girl, why did you decide to take this mission? You seem far more scholarly in your disposition. No one would have blamed you for refusing to join, so why take the risk?"

 

----------

 

Lady Wilhelmina Tamaria had eagerly tucked into a full plate of steaming hot food almost as soon as she had made it through the door. It'd been a long ride and she was famished. By the time the whole entourage had shuffled their way inside and got settled, she was already finished, and only had a mug of ale left to nurse. So she started wandering about the inn, nodding politely and greeting any of the inquisitors or fellow knights that met her gaze.

 

Eventually she wandered over to the black-armored woman sharing her food with a large, pitch black hound.

 

"Hello, Inquisitor," Mina waved to her, smiling as she approached. "Would you mind if I joined you and your handsome friend here?" Mina crouched down, holding her hand out for the large dog to sniff. When he seemed comfortable enough, Mina started to scratch behind his pointed ears. "Since when have Inquisitors had canine companions?" 

[Dalton Westmoore]

Malvolio grunted as he dismounted from his horse. The scarred Templar had never been one for long distance rides, and the fog matched his black mood.

He mostly ignored the inkeeper's comment about there being not enough room in the inn: he had doubled up in rooms before. But Irena's comment about Venators there interested him greatly.

"I would like to know why as well," Malvolio said, a rare smile creasing his scarred face "the only reason why I think you would come as well is because this Letom person might be a Vampire or some sort of creature like that, if you'll pardon me saying so."

---

Evan looked around at the other Inquisitors arond him as they dismounted their horses. Could one of them be the one that had led Qwinby to his death?

He noticed one of the other Inquisitors, who he believed was called Mettius Tiber, and his reaction to the comment about there not being enough rooms in the inn.

He removed his helmet and brushed back his metal coif as he approaced the other Inquisitor, and said "Jambo, Brother! How are you fairing this fine day?"

[Ratcatcher]

Lucy dismounted her steed, along with her fellow Inquisitors. As usual, she had no idea what was going on, but kept a calm disposition. There was no point in worrying about unnecessary details. She was certain Blackburn, Sturm, or Sir Edrimark would address the group. She blended with the rest of the crowd as the flowed into the inn.

 

The innkeeper looked shocked and intimidated at their presence. It was only fair; after all, someone who's just trying to make some money here and there doesn't want to make any sort of bad impression on a bunch of Templars and Inquisitors. His true concern came out when he mentioned that they didn't have enough room. She smiled innocently. The poor man, she thought, he must be worried to death. She was happy when the Templar Captain-- Ralof, was it?-- agreed with no argument. These Templars seemed like such nice people. It was a good break from all the rough 'n' scruff Inquisitor-Knights she dealt with on a near daily basis. Well, not all of them were bad. The other Channeler girl seemed nice, but the rest were all too... focused, maybe? They just all seemed like they had no life aside from being Inquisitors. Or maybe they were running from it.

 

Lucy snapped back into reality, looking around. Right, she thought, I need to find somebody to room with. Her first thought, of course, was the other Channeler ((Kristina Reyne)). It would be really cool to get to know her a little better. Not knowing if anybody at the table was talking to her, she sat with her. "Hey, there," she said casually, smiling politely. "I haven't had the chance to meet another Inquisitor of my rank. My name's Lucy." She stretched out her hand to shake it, hoping that she wasn't just another "do-it-or-die" type person.

[Maverick-Werewolf]

As Stevan and Sebastian ate and drank, Yaroslava mostly fed her food to Shade, and Ben sat idly in the corner messing with his guitar, Mina approached the Ebonguard woman and her hound. Shade was the first to look up, his eyes shining.

 

"Hello, Inquisitor," Mina waved to her, smiling as she approached. "Would you mind if I joined you and your handsome friend here?"

 

"Not at all," said Yaroslava, motioning for her to take a seat. Shade briefly sniffed Mina's hand before he allowed her to scratch him behind the ears, his tongue lolling out happily when she did.

 

"Since when have Inquisitors had canine companions?"

 

"They generally don't. Usually Venatori are the ones with dogs," said Yaroslava. "I actually got Shade from a Venator. He was the monster hunter's way of saying 'thank you.' He was just a pup back then. He's such a sweetheart he even gets along with that one's cats," she jabbed a thumb in Ben's direction as he sat in the opposite corner. "His name's Shade."

 

She offered Mina a gauntleted hand to shake. "As for me, I'm Yaroslava Sturm, Ebonguard."

[Burger Warrior]

As Mettius was starting to get his composure together, however, another Inquisitor approached. Perhaps fortunately, this one was a man, though he didn’t sound or look at all like himself. This made Tibur tilt his helmeted head slightly as the other Ebonguard removed his own helmet and brushed back his coif as he approached. "Jambo, Brother! How are you fairing this fine day?"

 

The Achaean Ebonguard blinked at the man’s first two terms. He had no idea what ‘Jambo’ meant, nor did he consider this dark-skinned warrior a ‘brother’. In fact, Mettius was about as far from being a brother from any Inquisitor as possible, for very obvious reasons. If anyone had anything in common with him among the Inquisition’s agents, though, it’d be the Channelers, not another Ebonguard. As it was, though, Tibur knew pointing this out would be rude. Thus, he simply shifted a little, still keeping his greathelm on, and thus concealing his expression.

 

“I’m doing alright, comrade.” He replied, putting a little emphasis on the last word. “I could be better, I could be worse.” Mettius belatedly realized that could seem a little insensitive, though, and so he cleared his throat. “How’re you?” He offered, attempting to salvage the situation.

 

He can’t be worse off than a man working for an organization that hunts his kind.

[Sir Solitaire]

Augustin adjusted the brim of his hat to better keep the rain out of his eyes. The road had been long and the company was finally coming to a stop at a small inn along the roadside. The Ebonguard was grateful for the rest, he could feel the long miles in his lower body already. He patted his steed, Flint, as he swung out of the saddle and landed lightly on the ground. After stabling his horse and ensuring he had something to eat Augustin entered the inn at the rear of the company.

 

The interior instilled feelings of homeliness and comfort. It felt neither too exquisite nor too plain. More common folk would have referred to it as “cozy,” though Augustin preferred the term “quaint.” It would do nicely for the company, far better than some of the inns he and Inquisitor Daniel had stayed in during their missions on the Northern border. Augustin shuddered inwardly as he recalled those times. Subconsciously he touched the scar running down his left eye. Those had been dark times.

 

With a small jolt he pulled himself back into the present. The inn was now full of Templars, Inquisitors, and a couple Venatori. Quite the company to entertain. Augustin almost felt sorry for the innkeeper.

 

“I, uh - don't have enough room to accommodate quite so many, milords,” the innkeeper stuttered as the room filled with armored bodies. “I certainly have enough food and drink, but I'm afraid several of you will have to share rooms.”

 

Augustin shrugged. Room sharing was no matter to him, he had done it many times with Daniel during their travels. It kept costs small and allowed for rotating shifts to guard against the many problems traveling in the North presented.

 

He sat down at an unoccupied table and order some hot food and some port. The server girl nodded and obediently went about fulfilling the order. Despite his travels in the North, Augustin was an Imperial from a wealthy family and often tried to acquire some of the finer things in life.

 

Once his food arrived, the inquisitor tucked in, his stomach reminding him how long the road had been. As he ate he periodically glanced up at the company around him. For so long he had operated alone, being around so many fellow fighters against the Darkness was both welcoming and strange all at once. A few had broken into conversations, no doubt everyone was picking their roommate for the night. Augustin realized he, too, would have to eventually stop eating the excellent hot food and fine drink and socialize.

[Sareth]

"I, uh - don't have enough room to accommodate quite so many, milords. I certainly have enough food and drink, but I'm afraid several of you will have to share rooms."

 

Kristina got her food and drink, and sat down at an unoccupied table along the wall. She was in no hurry to pick a room-mate —the need to share a room didn't bother her in the slightest, and she didn't particularly care who she ended up with. 

 

So, she ate silently —with neat, quick motions. When she was done, she kicked her chair back and simply sat there, slowly sipping at her ale —for it would have to last, as she never allowed herself more than one drink per meal when on duty, even though the investigation proper had yet to begin—, her mind replaying the facts, what few there were, that had been relayed at the meeting back in Piera —mentally preparing herself for the task ahead.

 

"Hey, there. I haven't had the chance to meet another Inquisitor of my rank. My name's Lucy."

 

She turned to look at the woman —the other channeler on the expedition— who had sat at her table, slightly annoyed at the interruption. Still, there was no reason to be impolite to a comrade.

 

So, lowering her chair back down onto all four legs, she switched her tankard to the other hand and reached out and gave the proffered hand a quick firm shake. "Kristina Reyne" she said politely, introducing herself in turn. "Are you new to the organization, then?" she inquired after a moment.

 

***

 

Sarael was so excited that she was almost vibrating inside her armor as they dismounted. Her first real mission —and such an important one, too! And not just with Templars, but the Inquisition as well! It was everything she'd been waiting for all her life.

 

As the others went inside the inn, she stayed behind for a moment, habitually checking that everyone's horses were well-secured in the stables and had plenty of feed. Once she was satisfied that that was the case, she headed in as well, stopping only to give her own horse a quick loving pat on the neck —not that Silver Breeze was liable to notice, the massive percheron mare happily munching away with her head buried almost neck-deep in the provided bale of hay.

 

"I, uh - don't have enough room to accommodate quite so many, milords. I certainly have enough food and drink, but I'm afraid several of you will have to share rooms."

 

Oh? Well, that wouldn't be a problem —it would be just like being in barracks when she was a squire, except with only two people in a room.

 

Looking around the room, she cast a practiced eye over the assorted chairs, looking for any that seemed particularly sturdy —people tended to get upset when she accidentally broke their furniture because she was so big. She found a good looking candidate at one of the corner tables —which was currently only occupied by one of the Inquisitors, whose name she hadn't gotten ((Ben))— and headed over, removing her sheathed zweihänder from her back and propping it against the wall, and sitting down carefully —the chair gave a slight creak under the weight of her muscle and armor, but held together.

 

Hardly had she sat down than the innkeeper's wife came by with food and drink. She gratefully accepted the plate of food, but waved off the proffered tankard of ale. "Oh, no thank you. Just water for me" she said pleasantly. "I'm under strict orders to never drink" she said by way of explanation, her cheerful smile indicating that she found this no imposition —though it might make it hard for some people to tell whether she was joking or not.

 

That done, she turned to her tablemate —whether her food got cold or not falling in second priority to meeting an actual Inquisitor for the first time. "Hello, I'm Sarael —Sarael Raia!" she introduced herself cheerily, blithely holding out an armored hand to shake. "What's your name?" she asked —only to get distracted a moment later as she noticed the instrument he'd leaned against the wall by his seat. "Ooh, a guitar. Are you going to play for us!?" she asked hopefully.

[GhostlyCheese]

Grey had been attempting to trace his partner's silhouette as he rode beside him, protecting his paper with the bottom of his shawl. His mount came to a halt and some rain that had collected on the edge of his hood trickled unto the parchment, ruining his sketch. The Venator groaned as he dismounted, giving his stead a nice pat on the head as he followed his partner into the inn, wet and a tad uncomfortable.

The Southron came through the door behind the older Venator, pulling down his hood and shaking his hair to try to keep it from soiling any food. He had made it about halfway across the room when he heard the cry of a mouse. "Pardon me." Grey looked over his shoulder at the meek girl. Ive been meaning to ask now, but I never had the chance why are Venatori accompanying us?

Grey opened his mouth to greet and give her a short explanation. "Well it's quite-" He had begun, before Hadrian wrinkled his brow and spoke first. "I feel I could ask you the same," Grey wanted to apologize to the Scholar, but he knew Hadrian wasn't in a very good mood. But then again when was he ever in a good mood?

Passing by, he heard the innkeeper speak a tad nervously. "I uh - don't have enough room to accommodate quite so many, milords. I certainly have enough food and drink, but I'm afraid several of you will have to share rooms."

Grey was accustomed to sleeping in the same room as a hunting partner, but he had never had hunted with Holt before. He did not know the man well, as he had barely spoke to him in the small amount of time he had spent with him. I'll work out sleeping arrangements with someone later... I'm really in the mood for some food. The Venator followed Holt as he made his way to the bar, ordering a ale and bread. "Order whatever you want, boy. My treat. But eat lightly, Tomorrow the hunt begins. And you will treat it as seriously as any other quarry you've faced before," He scratched at his white beard and grumbled something to himself.

Grey didn't like being treated like a apprentice, but it was a Venatori Code to respect and listen to the advice of his elders and pass it on. He called over the bartender and ordered "anything that can warm the gullet." A minute later he was given a bowl of what he was pretty sure was stew, and the end of a loaf of bread. He had only begun to get into his food when a voice came from behind him. "I would like to know why as well," A scarred Templar said, a rare smile creasing his scarred face "the only reason why I think you would come as well is because this Letom person might be a Vampire or some sort of creature like that, if you'll pardon me saying so."

Grey looked over his shoulder, and he couldn't help but stare at the markings all over the man's face. He took a hard swallow of food and spoke. "We're here the same reason you take a knife with you when you go to town. You don't know if you'll need it, but you want it if you do." He bit into a stew-sooked piece of bread and swallowed. "We don't know if he is, or if he has a army of monsters. But it's always good to have people there who are experts at that sort of thing." Grey shrugged.

[Ratcatcher]

"Kristina Reyne" the girl responded to Lucy. "Are you new to the organization, then?" Lucy considered complimenting her name, then decided against it.

 

"You could say that. I've been on a couple of assignments here and there, but I haven't confronted anybody with the Condition without being decked out in armor, you know?" The innkeeper's wife set a flagon of ale down in front of Lucy. She looked up smiling, and said "thank you," waiting for her to wander off before returning to the conversation. "...I guess my inexperience won't remain for long. I mean, the guy we're chasing is supposed to be a hostile mage, right? If we successfully detain him or... well, you know... we'll better know how to help other people from hostile magic-users. What about yourself, Kristina? How long have you been an Inquisitor?" She instinctively went to take a sip of her drink, but upon receiving the foul stench of alcohol, she set it aside instead.

[Maverick-Werewolf]

Ben had just finished a tankard of ale when Sarael came on over and took a seat. He didn't really care either way, so he just nodded in greeting. She did mention to the innkeeper's wife that she never drank, and he was about to comment on that, but he thought better of it. Templars and all that.

 

She then turned to him. "Hello, I'm Sarael —Sarael Raia!" she introduced herself cheerily, blithely holding out an armored hand to shake. "What's your name?" she asked —only to get distracted a moment later as she noticed the instrument he'd leaned against the wall by his seat. "Ooh, a guitar. Are you going to play for us!?" she asked hopefully.

 

It was a little hard to keep up, but Ben shrugged and answered her last question first. "I could," he replied lightly. "But I mostly just brought it in to keep it out of the rain. Most people don't take an Inquisitor who plays guitar and sings very seriously," he remarked wryly.

 

That done, he shook her hand in a firm grasp. "I'm Ben Blackburn, Ebonguard. Nice to meet you, Sarael." With a slight smile, he couldn't help but add, "You sure seem a lot more chipper than everyone else in this bunch."

[Sir Solitaire]

As he finished his meal, Augustin noted the comradery of the company. Inquisitors and Templars were talking pleasantly enough, or at least appeared to be so, and were even including the Venatori to an extent. The Ebonguard tidied the last of his meal away, grateful for the warm food to be filling his gullet. He left a few coins beside his dish as a sign of his gratitude and moved walked around the room, his glass of port in hand.

 

While walking around Augustin noticed a massive man in Inquisitor armor ((Cicero Silius)) that appeared to be by himself. Seeing an opportune moment to meet at least one of his comrades, Augustin approached him.

 

“Best time as any for introductions,” Augustin started off. He held his hand out. “My name is Augustin Cæsar, who are you, friend?”

[Burger Warrior]

The younger Venator opened his mouth to speak, managing to get a few words out. "Well it's quite-"

 

He was interrupted by his elder, her creased his brow; probably in annoyance. "I feel I could ask you the same," he said, motioning for Irena and the other Venator to follow him to the bar. The silver-haired man yanked out a stool and gratefully sat down, happy to rest after a long day of riding. He cordially flagged down the barkeep, and ordered some food, offering the other monster hunter a meal as well.

 

Cathas quietly cleared her throat as she sat as close as she could to the older Venator, after letting his… apprentice? Companion? She wasn’t familiar with how the Venatori ordered themselves, but whoever he was, she allowed him to sit, first. “I do not mean to offend,” she began, “but I have more than enough to-”

 

"I would like to know why as well," A man suddenly spoke. Irena slowly turned to see another Templar, this one decked out in proper armor, a smile creasing his scarred face. It looked like he rarely smiled, though. "The only reason why I think you would come as well is because this Letom person might be a vampire or some sort of creature like that, if you'll pardon me saying so."

 

The aging Venator took a drink and turned to look Irena in the eye, though. "We hunt those who hunt the innocent. Our prey are the monsters who seek the blood of men. That's all the reason a Venator needs." Hadrian stated, his voice firm with righteous conviction.

 

The younger one spoke up, next. "We're here the same reason you take a knife with you when you go to town. You don't know if you'll need it, but you want it if you do." He bit into a stew-soaked piece of bread and swallowed. "We don't know if he is, or if he has a army of monsters. But it's always good to have people there who are experts at that sort of thing." Grey shrugged.

 

Irena shook her head. “That… couldn’t be possible, could it?” She replied to his comment about monster armies in particular. “I’ve never recorded demons and other monsters working together… well, besides vampires, of course.” She offered meekly.

 

"So tell me, girl, why did you decide to take this mission?” The other Venator spoke again. “You seem far more scholarly in your disposition. No one would have blamed you for refusing to join, so why take the risk?"

 

Cathas shifted a little in her seat. “I’m a chronicler.” She explained. “I’ve recorded the demises of many demons and their pawns, and have copies of the works of other chroniclers. I’ll be able to tell if we’ve faced this ‘Letom’ or his true master before… and if we haven’t, I’ll record how we defeat him.”

“It’s… not unlike how you Venatori work, as far as I know.” She added. “Though you know all the monsters there are to fight already. Demons are… a broader matter.”

[Balder]

Sir Tobias was glad to be out of the rain an inside the warm with good food filling his gullet. His old bones ached from the long ride and though he did not show it he greatly appreciated the rest.

 

Gazing across the room Tobias observed as Inquisitor and Templar mingled with each other and, over all, spirits seemed to be high. Though he didn't approve of the offhand approach to the matter of quarters by the Templar Knight-Captain, he couldn't start assigning the inquisitors under his command to their rooms without opposing the Templar which would be hurtful of group unity and morale. And besides, things seemed to be going well enough and it wouldn't hurt for everyone to make acquaintances with their peers.

 

That being said the Inquisitor-General figured he himself could do with learning more about his fellow officer. Quickly locating the Knight-Captain at the bar, Tobias rose from his table and made his way to the chair on the Templars right, sitting down with a polite nod. "Sir Rolf", he greeted, ordering an ale before turning back to attempt some small talk.

 

"Seems that everyone's getting along nicely," the old man noted idly with a small gesture to the room. "So what do you think about all this, about this creature 'Letom'?"

[Neyo Wargear]

Cicero had kept to himself mainly, but he did take an interest in the Northrim Moosehound. It was a fine specimen, he hadn't seen one in a little while. He had planned to approach the owner, but another Inquisitor was fast approaching Cicero.

"Best time as any for introductions," Augustin started off. He held his hand out. "My name is Augustin Cæsar, who are you, friend?"

Cicero nodded and took Augustin's hand in a firm handshake. "The name is Cicero Silius, Ebonguard. Where do you hail from, friend?"

[Maverick-Werewolf]

"Sir Rolf", Tobias greeted.

 

"General," Stevan replied with a respectful nod.

 

"Seems that everyone's getting along nicely," the old man noted idly with a small gesture to the room.

 

"Seems that way," the Captain agreed, glancing back at the others. "I'm glad. It's a shame our orders don't always get along."

 

"So what do you think about all this, about this creature 'Letom'?"

 

The Templar swallowed another mouthful of ale as he thought that question over. "I think he's a monster and needs to be stopped," he replied at length, turning his blue eyes, so bright they almost seemed unreal, back to Tobias.

 

"I don't know if he's a monster the way some people might think of them, but some Men are monsters. I'm mostly just wondering why he'd suddenly lash out against the orders of Astra. He killed an Inquisitor and took his armor - that's murder, but it has no connection to that monastery he raided and torched. So why'd he want to bring the Templars and the Inquisition down on him? It's suicide."

 

Stevan shook his head. "The fact that we don't know his motives worries me even more than the fact that he's wearing void iron."

[Dalton Westmoore]

"We're here the same reason you take a knife with you when you go to town. You don't know if you'll need it, but you want it if you do. We don't know if he is, or if he has a army of monsters. But it's always good to have people there who are experts at that sort of thing."

 

Malvolio raised an eyebrow and said "Odd that you see it that way, but, yes, that sounds appropriate."

 

"So tell me, girl, why did you decide to take this mission? You seem far more scholarly in your disposition. No one would have blamed you for refusing to join, so why take the risk?"

 

“I’m a chronicler. I’ve recorded the demises of many demons and their pawns, and have copies of the works of other chroniclers. I’ll be able to tell if we’ve faced this ‘Letom’ or his true master before… and if we haven’t, I’ll record how we defeat him. It’s… not unlike how you Venatori work, as far as I know. Though you know all the monsters there are to fight already. Demons are… a broader matter.”

 

"Indeed," the scarred Templar commented as he stroked his scars "in all my years as a Templar, I've only encountered one Demon. It didn't end well, as you can see plainly on my face."

 

---

 

“I’m doing alright, comrade. I could be better, I could be worse. How’re you?”

 

"Fine; fine as could be expected," Evan said, his pearl white teeth gleaming in a smile "though I sense that you are in a dilemma, are you not? You don't really want to share a room with a woman, or look...improper if you ask one to share a room, yes?"

 

 

[Flammenwerfer]

Gauvain ached. He was sure it was the ride that had done it, since he was used to carrying his heavy armour. When the group of Templars, Inquisitors and Venatori finally stopped to rest, he slid off his horse and planted his boots solidly on the ground. Silently, he followed his companions into the inn, where he was forced to duck, so that he didn't hit his head on the doorway.

 

The inn was, well, nice. There wasn't really another word for it, and Gauvain doubted that he could find one.

 

“I, uh - don't have enough room to accommodate quite so many, milords,” stammered the rather flustered innkeeper. “I certainly have enough food and drink, but I'm afraid several of you will have to share rooms.”

 

Apparently it was a rather small inn. Still, if it had food, Gauvain could rest easy. Back when he was a lad, his own father had said that a boy that size had to eat a lot. Gauvain had proven him right, and right now he felt like he could eat the horses of the entire group. He quickly ordered a large platter of meat and a mug of beer and then went looking for a place to sit.

 

The only free seat he could find (that could probably take his weight) was at a table already occupied by two women ((Mina and Yaroslava)). One was dressed as he was, as a Templar, while the other wore the garb of the Inquisition, and had a dog at her side.

 

"Mind if I sit?" he asked as he lumbered over and gestured to the empty chair.

[Sareth]

"You could say that. I've been on a couple of assignments here and there, but I haven't confronted anybody with the Condition without being decked out in armor, you know? ...I guess my inexperience won't remain for long. I mean, the guy we're chasing is supposed to be a hostile mage, right? If we successfully detain him or... well, you know... we'll better know how to help other people from hostile magic-users. What about yourself, Kristina? How long have you been an Inquisitor?"

 

The girl definitely seemed inexperienced, Kristina thought. Still, her heart was in the right place.

 

"Me? I joined when I was sixteen, so it's been... almost eleven years now, I suppose. And I've been a channeler for more than the last seven of those years" she replied.

 

"So, you've never used your power in the field?" she asked after a moment's pause, to confirm what Lucy had said.

 

***

 

 

"I could. But I mostly just brought it in to keep it out of the rain. Most people don't take an Inquisitor who plays guitar and sings very seriously."

 

"Why?" Sarael asked, honestly confused, taking Ben's statement at more-or-less face value. "Being able to play or sing doesn't prevent one from also being a skilled fighter... at least, I assume so —I've been told I 'couldn't play an instrument to save my life'"  she continued, her utterly earnest —if typically cheerful— expression the only thing that made it clear she wasn't joking.

 

"So, come on... won't you please play something?" she asked sweetly, with a matching smile that almost verged on the saccharine.

 

"I'm Ben Blackburn, Ebonguard. Nice to meet you, Sarael. You sure seem a lot more chipper than everyone else in this bunch."

 

"Yeah, my old Knight-Captain used to say I'm 'more energetic than a sackful of puppies' —I'm not exactly sure why he'd put puppies in a sack, but, eh..." she said, with a shrug that indicated she had no concerns over the matter. "I've just always figured that if I'm going to do something, I might as well do it with spirit!" 

 

"And what about you?" she asked. "Why were you all alone in this corner?"