Otatharan horrors (Zombie RP)

[Lord Tully]

In a cottage up in the mountains, an old man sat beside his bed ridden son. He sat bolt upright when he heard the door open and a younger man in the flowing robes of a mage entered the msmall bedroom. "Is it ready?" the old man asked, "It is your majesty, you need not worry any longer." the youngerman reached into his robes and produced a small flask, "This will cure your son." The king hastilly snatched the bottle from the wizard, "I will give it to him." The old man rushed to his son and slowly poured the dark liquid into the boy's mouth. When the last drp was emptied from the bottle the Mage and King leaned in closely watching for the Prince's eyes to open. They did not but instead the prince started to thrash about, the king tried to hold his son still and yelled "GUARDS!!!!" at the call a trio of knights rushed down the hallway into the bedroom doorway. At their arrival the prince coughed up blood and stopped moving, the blood spattered onto his father a small amount getting into his eyes and mouth. In a rage he turned to the wizard, "Kill him, KILL HIM!!!! He's killed my son!!" the kingts drew their swords and advaced on the robed man who tried to bakcaway, "No no, this wan't meant to happen, please, don't." But not one of them listened as they coldly cut him down.
(2 days later)
Panicked whispers spread like wildfire through the city of Adrina, "They say the Prince is dead." "I heard that a demon came and killed everyone." these and other such rumors swirled around Telin as she weaved her way through the crowds. Eventually she reached her destination, a black smith's shop, her knife was starting to chip and break and she needed another one, she pushed the heavy door open with all her strength and walked slowly inside. "E-excuse me, is there anyone here?"

[Prowler]

Robby watched as a dwarf woman walked through the door, he sat on a wooden stool while the blacksmith worked over his blade. The sword which was a family heirloom was very dear to him, and so whenever it was damaged he would have it repaired. Unfortunately in his last skirmish with a group of roadside bandits, the blade of the weapons had been heavily chipped. Watching the dwarf with a small amount of interest he took a sip off a tankard of ale the blacksmith had been so kind to give him. An easy smile played on his lips as he rose and walked over to the dwarf. His voice was kind and reassuring as he spoke to the woman, "M'lady, what brings you to the blacksmith this day?" He asked trying to make easy conversation to pass the time.

[Lord Tully]

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[Night_Mare]

Arianne pounded the metal mercilessly then with an abrupt motion she cooled it then shoved it in the fire almost as soon as it stopped glowing. When it became the same temperature she pulled out of the fire again only to pound even more mercilessly at the already soft metal.

The door in the back opened up. "Who's it?" Ari called not pausing in her job. One more treatment should do it, she thought quenching it and sticking it straight back into the fire.

"You would be the black smith Ari?" A male asked. Ari turned as she pulled the heated metal out of the fire one last time. She beat the softened metal as she replied. "That's my name. Though most would call me Arianne" When she was done she put the metal down on a special rack so it would cool slowly.

"I need some repair done on my sword but...I was expecting a man. I don't think....surely you can't do the same work as a man?"

The redhead put her hands on her generous hips. "What kind of work?" The man didn't reply. Ari smacked him. "Answer or your not getting your weapon fixed!" The man stared at her a little frightened by the display of temper. "Well...? Are you mute now? Need I knock sense into you, man?"

He fled without leaving his weapon. Ari brushed her hands. "His loss" She spat. Of course not moments after Ari had sent someone scrambling a new patron came in.

Her green eyes narrowed on the little Fey. "Back here." Ari called seemingly angry.

[Lethe]

One of the shop’s patrons, a human male wearing a red hooded cloak had just addressed her. She noted both the smooth cadence of his voice and the dark leather armor he wore as if it were a second skin. Since she had just entered a blacksmith’s shop, one might incorrectly surmise that she required the services of a smith. This was actually not the case. Although she did enjoy perusing through sets of hand crafted armor and weapons.

“Hullo der, lad. Good ta meet ya.” The Dwarf’s grin was genuine. “Ak’shually, I be new ‘ere in town. I were jes’ wuntin’ ta know tha loca’shun o’ a gud tavern. One dat dinnae water down it’s ale.”

In an attempt at politeness, Daena stomped her boots several times on the doormat by the front door, causing bits of dirt and grime to become dislodged from her well-worn footwear. She tried not to leave tracks on the floorboards as she walked. As she glanced around the smith’s shop, her attention was drawn to a display of various swords and shields attached to the front wall. Her eyes lit up.

“Ach! Dis be sum foine metal werk iff’n I do says so m’self! I be wunder’n iff’n dey makes any axes ‘ere. I allus be needin’ a gud axe!”

With the sturdy fingers of her left hand the Dwarf began testing the thickness of the metal along the edge of a steel round shield. She found herself impressed with its weight and symmetry. Next she inspected a set of steel throwing knives. She selected one of the knives and set it horizontally across her forefinger. It balanced perfectly. Although she seldom threw knives, she could recognize a knife that was flawlessly weighted. It would fly through the air in a perfect trajectory. Daena came to the realization that the smith here was quite exceptional.

[Zaro]

Once upon a time, Dryden would have felt like a fish out of water in a big human city like this, but he had been to many environs in his lifetime, this being quite natural in comparison to many of them. He was to track down a necromancer hired by the King for some Godsforsaken reason. He was not sure why a noble man would consort with such company, or if he even aware of who he was dealing with, but that mattered not. If the intel proved true, that little morsel of information would be invaluable to his elven nation. They would be able to blackmail the Kingdom down the line if the need arose. Knowledge, Dryden thought, truly was power.

Still, he despised this waste of his talents. He was a commando, not a spy. In fact, his goal was to support the spies on thier various missions within the city, ambushing the various crime lords and necromantic sects of the city and pumping them for information. So far 17 thugs, 2 crime bosses, and 7 necromancers now lay in their own lifeblood, and they still had learned little. Still, the head spy was sure the next location would have the answers they sought.

And here they were: the entrance to the largest Necromancer cell in the city. It also happened to be the one closest to the royal palace. These necromancers were supposed to be relatively powerful and numerous than all the others, and so command was not willing to take any chances. They had hired anoter elf, an insane, bloodthirsty mercenary by the name of Rigardo. They waited for him now, in the designated alleyway. Dryden tapped his foot impatiently. Hopefully the nutjob would leave at least one alive to interrogate.