Café de Nuit

He heard the steps on the staircase as he lay on the plank that served as his prison bed in the cells the anchorites of Echevelle used for the anointed followers of the Lawgiver. Three set of steps. For all their supposed faith in the protection of the Prostitute they served, they seemed to think that bringing food to an unarmed man locked behind bars, without the symbol of his religion or a weapon was a threat worth of three men to take care of.
"Stand up scum, time to eat" he heard one of them said. When he made no move to come out of the blankets he heard the man bang the edge of his spear on the cell bars. "Crawl out of there vermin, or I'll come in and you'll be sorry!". Again, he made no move.
"So that will be right? If you are so insistent to get a beating and loose a couple of teeth so be it Banite!" He heard the guard fumbling for his keys "Keep alert" he told the others. "This maggot may be up to something"

He heard the cell door opening and almost immediately felt the spear's butt crash on his ribs. So the coward didn't have faith enough to the protection of his "deity" to even kick him with his own foot. He left a grunt, to make the guard bolder. "Stand up you filth!" A kick followed.
Doubled up by the abuse he stood up under the blankets.
"Not so tough after all, eh?" The guard, an unshaved youth in his early 20s, wearing the leather armor of a levied farmer, tried to punch him in the face. It was about time.
Smiling through the pain he lifted his hand to catch the arm of the farmer boy. Making a brief contact he let Death flow through him, like a conduit, right into the suprised peasant. His victorious grin was the last thing the hypocrite would see before the powers given to him by Bane the Eternal sent him to the afterlife, tumbling to the prostitute's legs. The guard was dead before he hit the floor. He should have stayed in his place farming the land for his betters, as his lot was destined to do.
A slight welp of suprise came from the second guard, another dirty peasant, as he saw his friend dropping and saw what he held in his left hand; what he had hidden under the blankets. As he saw and recognised the brass symbol of a clenched fist that served as the unholy symbol of Bane. As he realized his coming doom. Before the pesky peasant had any time to react and shout a warning, he let the power of Bane flood him again as he uttered a command carrying a measure of power and authority of his God.
"Grovel" He said simply.

The peasant fell to his knees by the power of the command. Good. He would die in his rightful place.
"Do it" He told the third guard, that had already drawn his dirk. He didn't have to thank him for slipping him the unholy symbol of Bane last night, nor for telling him when the wretched anchorite bishop has left Echevelle. The man did his duty to Bane, as he must. It wasn't a matter of choice. It was a matter of obedience.
"Please, I have a family" the farmboy said pathetically while in his knees as the sharp, cold blade touched his neck. As if it mattered.

**************************************************************

Yves Milette stood in the cellar of the house he shared with his surviving cousins that served as his office and retreat as he heard Annete tell him the news.
"Unsuprisingly, they failed to take what we wanted from the ghost. Only one returned, in similar state as the rest of the loosers that you sent there. The other one was killed by the roses it seems"
Yves left a sigh. "Any news on what happens back home?" he said irritated, trying to change the subject. "That kid Benoit, he spoke with some fellows that spoke with others etc. It seems just four months have passed back home from that night in Pont-a-museu."
Georges chuckled "That's not bad since we need the extra time."
Yves turned his head to give a cold stare to Georges. That shut his plump cousin up. At least he has lost weight since that night although he still was fat and still had the habbit to chew on candles. They have all changed since that night.
Reading his thoughts in his face, Annete unconsiously touched her left hand, where the two fingers were missing. Yves had to resist the urge to rub the scar on his face that he earned then.

"We will find someone to retrieve whatever the ghost has and then to get what we need from the general." Yves told for what must be the 100th time to his cousins.
"Will it be enough?" Annete asked.
"If it's not we will keep looking. It seems we have all the time in the world here, while Cousin Louise dances the months away back home. We grow stronger, she stays the same. And as grandpa Claude told the Family, an ambush works best when your prey doesn't even know you exist.
Cousin Louise will pay, Louise will suffer and then Louise will die."

**************************************************************

Panorin watched from a safe distance the farmers talking with the group he was sent to find. From this distance he couldn't listen what's being said, but it seemed that nobody suspected anything. Sneaking in undetected by dwarf guard in the night has been relatively easy for the experienced halfling. It would have been easy even without the effects of the Twisting that have turned his skin a brownish-green since he joined the carnival.
Panorin was curious what Isolde needed from the Anchorite. It was very unlike her to send anyone so far away from the carnival just to delived a message. And while Isolde was always unpredictable she rarely asked for favors. Everyone in the Carnival owed her for the 2nd chance she offered, for the protection she provided and for the camaderie. When she told Panorin to follow the vistani guide to Vieliria, find the anchorite that traveled with them for a little bit in Darkon, sneak him a message secretly and then return with the vistani, Panorin was happy to oblidge.
He even managed to resist his curiousity to read the message.

************************************************

In her viper form the creature Veilirians called "The Lamia" slithered into the house covered by the dark embrace of night. Of course, the dogs of the small settlement, barely 15 houses, were whimpering and the sheep were uneasy. Animals were always uneasy near her whatever her form. As were those whose mind was either so far gone or so undeveloped that they were uninhibited by rational thought.
As were babies.

She could listen the twins crying in their crib. If the Lamia could smile in that form she would have done so; they wouldn't cry for long. She could smell their unease. She could sense their parents tossing in their sleep, their subconsious realizing something is wrong.
The creature changed her form to the humanoid one. She could have used her venomous bite, but she prefered to do what she was about to do with her bare hands. She wanted to feel it on her skin, not her fangs. For a moment she reveled in the fear of the infants as she absently thought whether she would visit the parents next.

As was usually the case, she decided against that course. From what she was told by Zevarzia before she disappeared, for most humans life without their children was a fate worse than death.
And she loved so much to watch the horrified expression of the parents when they discovered what has happened, the smell of horror, loss, shock mixed with the sweet sweet scent of unbearable agony.

Panorin woke up from his nightmare; snakes were chasing him. He didn't like snakes. His small body hidden under a bush in the wilderness, his twisting-affected skin the color of the earth, he had little fear that anyone would find him, even if they passed 3' from the place he was sleeping. Snakes were different though; if they were around, they could sense his heat or smell him. Well, next day he will sleep in a bed he decided, or at least in a barn where no snakes reside.
In his half-awake state he felt more than heard someone above him. He froze, instantly alert. His hand went towards the dagger in his belt. Suddenly, he was jerked under the bush, grabbed by the foot. A really strange woman, pupils like slits, skin too pale and shiny had him by the foot and slapped his dagger away with her long slim fingers. She's was very strong for her frame.
"Who are you! What do you want? Let me down!
I'll shout! I'll scream!"
the halfling said his fear rising as he gazed into those snake eyes.
The strange woman smiled. It was a very unpleasant smile filled with pointy teeth.
"You're not one of us. I can tell you're not born, made or created by Zevarzia. Yet, I can tell you're touched somehow. You're different. You've been changed." She said calmly, as Panorin vainly struggled to escape her grip, ignoring his protests.
"I cannot place the feeling little one; your changes don't appear to be the results of sin, disease or curse. And trust me, I know all of these; and more. You're touched by someone or something and that is not my mother. I'll just consider you a distant cousin, you're not one of my brothers apparently." The strange woman paused her monologue thinking.
"No, I'm not your brother" The halfling whimpered, fear in his voice and his heart "What do you want from me?".
He immediately regretted the question as the creature's merciless eyes turned on him.
"I want you to shout. I want you to scream"

****************************************

Drefius let the sand flow through his fingers as he stood there thinking. The timewarps he was in Vieliria to study were becoming less predictable. Those Banites fools didn't realize they were weaking the barrier that kept Zevarzia away from Vieliria; they didn't realize they were actually Hastening the very thing they were trying to avoid.
He could see the cracks already. He couldn't decide whether to inform the Banites of the effects of their foolishness or stay on the side and investigate the effect the presence of Zevarzia would have on the timewarps. Perhaps it would be useful for his work to have her throw the whole land in disarray again.
But again... perhaps knowing a catastrophy would hit and doing nothing to prevent it was something the thrice-accursed Watchers would consider a sin against him. He hated, hated, hated not being the master of his own fate. His whole life has been dulled by checks and balances. Old age to stop a man from accomplishing what he wants while able to enjoy it; Extremely expensive ingredients and tools needed for even the simplest of his projects; the Watchers looking over his shoulder judging his every move.
He longed to get rid of those checks and balances. They were good for the others, sure. But he wasn't "the others". He didn't want anything in his way.
Drefius sighed. It seemed the arrival of dozens of Banites from every domain known, unknown or forgotten also had the ever-present checks and balances; The barriers were weakening and he knew about it. He should probably act.

************************

Louis Matheron looked up from the passage he was reading when the middle-aged anchorite entered the room. "What can I do for you Toret?"
The Toret of Harpton took a deep breath before he replied. He seemed concerned. "I need to visit the bishop, and I would like to request one of your horses to speed up the journey. The visiting cleric claims to not be a crusader, yet he knows too much about the Lawgiver enemies."
"And why is that bad? Do you believe he's an imposter? Or that he is hiding something?"
The Toret waved negatively. "No, in fact he should be hiding something he has freely admited to me. I hope he will heed my advise and not repeat it. Not everyone will be as understanding as I was with him."
Lord Matheron was taken aback by the cleric's admission. "Is he dangerous? Tell me cleric, I've sent him along my son!"
"I'm don't think so. I'm almost sure he's saying the truth. It's just..." He makes a pause to think "It's just that a couple of things he's talking about could cause a dangerous and terrible misunderstanding. But just in case, I would prefer if the bishop talked with him before he's certified to use the powers of Ezra."
Lord Matheron studied the middle aged Anchorite. It was not uncommon for the Toret to be overprotective; in fact it was part of his job. Jean was not in danger else the cleric would have said so. "It's about how he got those ears, isn't it? Well, he's not the first crusader we've seen that returned from the crusade with skeletons in his closet and sins in his soul that transformed his mortal shell."
"That's what I assumed too. But Boiros of Dementlieu claims to not be a crusader."
"So, I guess you worry what sin caused that transformation?"
"He told me a story. A story too incredible and weird to be a lie. But I want to let the bishop know."
Lord Matheron just gave a nod. "I understand. You have my permission to use a horse of the estate. May Ezra speed up your journey and I hope your fears are put to rest"
The Toret gave him a polite nod. "Thank you Lord Matheron"

***********************************

Sir Abrgast squinted to look at the face of the follower of Bane sitting on the other side of the table, nearly covered by the the shadows cast from the lone candle burning in the scone in the wall of the dark cellar. No unholy symbol he thought; perhaps he's not a cleric. The lean, pale man dressed in a black robe has arrived from a secret entrance to meet with Abrgast alone and unarmed as it has been agreed. Sir Abrgast considered whether he should go on with the deal he stroke with the Banite or just arrest him and surrender him to the guard.
Or perhaps kill him and say he was attacked. Although few would doubt the honor of Sir Abrgast, cousin of Baron de Sombreau and commander of the barony's forces the risk rumors would take root was something he would prefer to avoid. In the gloom, the Banite seemed to be judging him and he broke a crook, taunting smile, as if he had guessed the knight's thoughts and was inviting him to act. Perhaps he was reading his thoughts using dark magics. He certainly didn't look afraid.
Abrgast broke the silence. "You promise that the Banite archbishop will grant me everything you said? Everything we agreed upon?"
The Banite sighed. "Yes. His Eminence guaranteed everything. Help us in a little task and you'll be surrounded, no covered in riches. You'll be bathed in perfume and covered in silk from head to toe if you want!"
Abrgast smiled greedily; that would be something! "And the Archbishop guarantees this "little" task that apparently is worth so much money will not put my life at any risk?"
The Banite nodded as he poured wine to a couple of cups, with an annoying self satisfaction. "Yes. Your life won't be at any risk while you do this service to us." The evil cleric drained his cup and nodded for Abrgast to follow suit. "Drink to the riches and good fortune that will come from this deal sir Abrgast."
The knight took a swallow from his cup. The wine was not particularly good. He still wasn't sure if he should do this. As good as the bargain seemed, he was sure the Banites wouldn't be offering riches out of the goodness of their heart. And he really didn't like the way the Banite acted. "For someone that promises riches untold, you certainly didn't bring the best wine" he mocked the Banite.
"Do you think so sir Abrgast?" The Banite replied in faked concern. The man was insufferable. "I assure you, this particular vintage costs more than your estate makes in two weeks"
"Well, if you believe so, you have been fooled Banite. I can tell luxurious wine and this is not."
The Banite crooked his head and looked at him in silence for a few moments, then he said in a different, harder tone. "It was not the wine that made this drink so expensive my lord. It was the poison that was so expensive".
Abrgast looked at the Banite with shock and suprise. He tried to stand and draw his sword but his hands didn't obey. He just managed to drop from his chair. "You... drank too" he managed to say. He found out he didn't have the strength to shout.
"I took the antidote first my Lord" the Banite replied as he circled the semi-paralyzed knight, a dagger in hand.
"You... lied!" Abrgast said as the spasms started, the treacherous murderer was just staying away looking at him blankly. Looking at me dying, Abrgast realized.
"No. I didn't. Your life won't be at any danger during the task sir Abrgast. You'll be dead already."
"Riches... promised ... Riches..." the knight whispered as everything was getting cold and dark.
"His Eminence will deliver the riches promised my Lord. I said you'll be bathed in perfume if you agree and covered by silk from head to toe. You will be."
"Didn't... agree" Abrgast said as concience and life fled from his body.
"Oh, you will agree after you die My Lord. You won't be given a choice"

A few domestic matters: I would appreciate it if everyone once again sent me a link to their finished character sheet -- or if this is finished yet, to get to work on that and at least shoot me their character concept and background! (Hurry up! ^_^)