Open Chronicles A little town called Paendley

[Bethany Inman]

On the Southern road to Vel Anir, lays a quaint little town called Paendley, one of half a dozen stops on the road to the city, it has done quite well for itself. Or at least Beth like to think so, aside from the crop failure a few years back, life in the town has been good. The sun had barely risen as she crossed the court from the bakers, dodging the puddles left from last nights deluge with a fresh basket of bread and sweet buns hooked on her arm for the guests breakfast.

“Whatcha got there, Bee?” slurred Andrew her eldest brother, still drunk from last night. She attempted to give him a reproachful look, but his half drunk grin melted it away. Without a word, she slid a hand beneath the cloth and pulled a bun free, tossing it too him.

“Go wake Pa up.” she told him as she set the basket on the bartop and began collecting tankards. From the looks of things, they’d drunk more than a few barrels dry last night.

“Aight.” Andrew grumbled, pulling himself unsteadily to his feet, and tearing the bread apart. “Oh, ‘fore if forget, there’s summ’un in the cellar. Too pised to haul him up ‘em stairs last nigh’, an ‘e was getting irrita’in.”

Beth deposited her collection of tankards behind the bar and rolled her eyes. “So you dumped him in the cellar?”

“Aye.”

“With all the ale?”

Andrew paused, chewing slowly before raising a finger. “In hin’si, tha’ weren’ the bes’ idea.” He made a move for the basket, with Beth swiped quickly away from his grubby paws. “Go and wake Pa you drunkard. Then sleep.”

“I ‘ave slep’”

“Sleep more, you’re still drunk and the tinkers in town today, last thing we need is him spreading tales of the innkeepers son who became the village drunk.”

“You mean Thane.” Beth flushed a deep crimson, and Andrew cackled his way up the stairs, though there was a distinct thud as he fell up the second flight and the laughter stopped. By the time the sun was fully up, the tavern had been scrubbed, tankards cleaned and breakfast was being served to the few guests that hadn’t drowned themselves in ale the night before. Beth’s father was sat in a corner looking over some ledgers when Beth brought him his tea.

“Not enough guests, this month Bee. We won’t be able to order anymore ale and at the rate your brother is drinking it, we’ll run out before the end of next month. Bloody bandits are scaring most people from travel these days.”

“Well, we could always cut Andrew off, do him some good to see the world sober for once.” Her father gave her a look that said he thought otherwise. “I’ll go check the cellar, see what we have left, i bet there’s some barrels-OH. I forgot!”

“Forgot what?” her father called, but Beth was already gone, disappearing into the cellar to check on the drunkard Andrew had told her about. “Bee!” A scream and a distant shout of fear from beyond the tavern’s door made him jump to his feet. “ANDREW!” he bellowed for his son, the only man he knew in town who was capable of wielding a sword.

 

[Maecey]

Maecey was snuggled up next to a bag of what she had been pretty sure was wheat.

She hadn't exactly been in the state of mind to check the contents, but it had certainly smelled like wheat when she'd bedded down for the night. Her arms were wrapped around the sack, a small amount of drool slipping from the corner of her mouth.

A loud snore echoed through the cellar as she slept, her pack, knives, and even her coat were splayed just a few inches away from her.

The night had been a rather exciting one.

Maecey had just come off from a Job in Vel Anir. The entire affair had been more stressful than a Iridal wedding, and she'd only made it out alive by the skin of her teeth. Of course such an occasion had called for celebration, and The Halfling had proceeded to drink as much as she could before eventually being guided to the Cellar by the son of the Innkeep.

It was nice, and though she'd spotted the barrels of ale still sitting around Maecey had decided against drinking any of it.

She was a killer, not a thief.

Besides, the ba of wheat had looked comfortable, and even well passed sunup she was sleeping about as deeply as a rock.

 

[Emery Thatcher]

Nothing treated a hangover like another drink. His time spent in Elbion was well worth it. Well, besides the numerous guards that came after him once they realized the carriage he'd arrived in was stolen. Truly couldn't believe that the driver he'd incapacitated came to LET ALONE found out he'd ridden it all the way to Elbion. Yet no one could catch Emery Thatcher when he wanted to get away. And that they did not.

After a good time's travel he could almost taste the air of Vel Anir again. It had come to morning and he'd been positive that his tail no longer had anyone on it. He'd come across the sign for the town known as Paendley. His exhaustion was beginning to hit as was the dehydration. Lucky him he found a woman who wanted to offer him comfort and drink the night prior but he was paying for it today.

He wandered his weary way into the towns inn and panned his eyes around. The place was pretty dead, really. A few guests enjoying breakfast. From the way his stomach was talking he'd have to partake as well. Though he couldn't really gather who exactly was working here. He could hear voices from another room, and may just need to wait. He took a seat at a lone table of the inn while he counted his coin and awaited someone to approach him.

 

[Bethany Inman]

Beth heard her father bellowing before she reached the foot of the stairs and she paused. There was something in her father’s voice that stirred uncertainty in her. She’d heard him yellin rage, howl in despair but this shout? This had a touch of desperation to it, a touch of fear. Nonsense, what could her father possibly but afraid of this early in the morning.

Light spilled in from the tiny windows at the ceiling, bathing the little mound of possessions in a dim pool of sunlight. The remainder of the cellar she was pleased to see was untouched, save for the snoring halfling woman who’d chosen the wheat as her bed. Well, it could’ve been far worse, perhaps her brother was a better judge of character than they thought. She didn’t want to wake her, not just yet.

She headed back up the steps with the intention of bringing the halfling some bread and cheese. Eggs and bacon would’ve been better for the hangover she was probably going to suffer but she could get them when she joined the land of the living and hauled herself back upstairs.

Her father caught her arm. “Beth, love. Get back downstairs, lock the door behind you.”

Her brother appeared at the foot of the stairs, looking grumpy and hungover. “Whatchoo yelling for, old man?”

Alarm bells rang in the courtyard, accompanied with the cry of “BANDITS!”

Andrew sobered up instantly. “I’ll get my sword.” he muttered, disappearing back up the stairs. Her father gave her a long look, before taking both of her arms. “Cellar, now. You stay down there till i tell you it’s safe to come out. And if I don’t…” he trailed off.

“Pa…”

“Cellar. GO!” he shoved her away before turning to the rest of the. “If any of you have blades, now’s the time to wield them. If we survive the day, your lodgings will be on the house for the rest of your lives.” Beth caught a glimpse of him lifting the sword from above the hearth before fear drove her back down the stairs. The lock turned with a click and the cries of pain and screams of fear filtered in through the cellar window.

Maecey Emery Thatcher

 

[Maecey]

Maecey did not hear the call. She did not hear the screams. Hell, she didn't hear anything at all save for the sound of the pleasantries in her dreams.

As she slept a picture of the fields back home crept through her minds.

She could see her parents farm, the rolling hills, Allerton sitting nestled between two mountains. It was all calm, quiet. A stark contrast to the chaos of the big cities that she had experienced for the last four years of her life.

Maecey had joined the Guild to get away from the quiet life most Halflings lived, yet as she dreamed it seemed her subconsious tried to drag her back.

"Mooooooom." Maecey said to herself between a snore. "I don't wanna bring in the chickens."

She turned, the bag of wheat she was hugging flipping with her. "Always get poop on my shoes."

The halfling commented as Bethany fled into the cellar for her life.

 

[Emery Thatcher]

Emery seemed a bit indifferent to the sounds of the call for a bandit raid. They were less dangerous than the guards he'd been dealing with since he was a child. He stood up and stretched his arms upward with a long uninterested sigh. Free lodging for his whole life, huh? That wasn't a bad deal if all he had to do was fend off some of his own. Bandits had muscle but more than often lacked brain.

He moseyed over to the man who'd called to arms the patrons of the inn and covered his mouth for a heavy yawn. "What're we lookin' at then?" He asked monotone before putting his hands into his pockets. He kept his eyes on the door and the windows as the bandits would likely come in at different angles.

The town wasn't that big but if they were just a bunch of brigands even someone of his intellect could devise that they would split up. Though the size of their group would determine how dangerous that was. He yawned again and drew his dagger from his coat, tossing it in his hands.

"You spilt blood befo', chief?"

 

[Smiling One]

"Ah shit here we go again,"

Willis always felt uncomfortable traveling around Vel Anir lands, there was always that gloomy feeling about it. A dark cloud hovering over them, as though it was telling travelers that these lands were cursed. The human supremacist city were always looking to conquer lands. When they weren't conquering lands, Vel Anirans were thinking about conquering. Being Allirian, Willis had always looked at Vel Anirians as being Xenophobic. However he can't deny that they always have work available for Monster Hunters and Mercenaries.

The Monster Hunters in particular had a contentious relationship with Vel Anir. Since the organization is made up of Humans, Elves, Dwarves and other races, it was tough sending in their very best whenever Vel Anirian lands had contracts. The Monster Hunters were also involved in wars with the Vel Anirians mainly in the First Elven War where the organization had to take arms when the Vel Anirains killed a Solas: A legendary Monster Hunter.

Willis sighed as he looked at the coin purse, he took on a job in a village that involved killing a Gibbering Mouther that was in someone's basement. Amongst the common people, the Gibbering Mouther was always considered to be one of the most scary monsters due to their grotesque look with many mouths placed all over its amorphous body babbling simultaneously. Once you get past the look of the Monster, the Gibbering Mouthers were very weak.

Willis made quick work of it and got paid a hefty amount for their troubles. Sometimes it was best not to say how easy Monsters like the Gibbering Mouthers were to kill. Willis hyped them up when he talked to his client saying how Gibbering Mouthers often love to prey on children. That caused the client to cough up a decent amount of coin allowing for the young man spend more than usual in their local inn called: The Rose and Thistle.

Time to celebrate by drinking and flirting with pretty tavern maids. And that's what Willis did drank until he couldn't stand straight and flirted with every barmaid he can find. Eventually the drunken young man stumbled inside the cellar where he rolled next to a bottle of Witches Brew Wine and began hugging it tightly.

He felt his eyelids becoming heavy before succumbing to a deep sleep. And then the bell rang. Willis immediately woke up facing a terrible headache before seeing a young woman closing the door behind her. "What the fuck is going on?" Willis said slowly getting up.

 

[Kristopher Mortas]

The bandit had opened the door, when out of the shadows- a hand reached out. He was exhausted, and the sting of sunlight was dangerous. But so was steel on flesh. And the innkeeper had been kind to him, and left him alone, despite charging him an arm and a leg.

Not that Kristopher had used any of his money, after all. Well, it was his now, at least.

The bandit made it six steps inside the tavern when he felt a presence, something cold behind him.

Yellow eyes opened against the wall, and Kristopher turned. Dark clothing pressed against the wall, turned and revealed pale-white skin. The bandit only saw the eyes.

He didn't feel the fangs in his arteries after Kristopher snapped his neck. Kristopher drained him until he was confident that he'd go into shock, and let the body drop. Inside the tavern, natural light only came from a few sources, so with a few thrown movements, and the charging of the bandits- the light sources went out one by one in the tavern, save for the open door. And the bandits walked into a particularly dreadful horror-

Their pointman had not only had his neck snapped, but had been drained completely, and they were in the darkness, alone, and afraid. The other bandits outside had no idea what to do, but Kristopher had plenty. He rushed by them, slamming the door shut to block the light, and disorient the bandits. It wasn't pitch black, but it was dark and hard to see in the dim light.

Yellow eyes looked at the three bandits that came to the tavern to loot and worse, now stuck in somewhat darkness. They went for the door, naturally.

Kristopher smiled and narrowed his eyes.

To the ones in the cellar, and the man who came up from it wielding a sword, there was a practical bloodbath, quick work made of desperate, awful men. For a few short seconds, the violence that Kristopher committed was better left in the dark where only he could see it- and more importantly, commit it.

The bandits ended their lives brutally and violently, partially drained of blood and broken, cut, and mangled. But there were far more to deal with, in the town alone, than the ones that entered the tavern. Kristopher, panting and covered in blood, took the time to fix his hair after the bout.

"Hello?"

He called out, not sure how the response would be earned. He had only said a few words during his stay, and kept to himself- and more importantly, only moved under cover of darkness. The jokes about him being a Vampire were not so funny now, what with a number of partially blood-drained bandit corpses lining the tavern. Not that they'd do a thorough autopsy at the moment, but a quick glance by anyone experienced enough with Vampires would lead them straight to Kristopher... and then maybe they'd send him to the morgue for simply existing.

So, the dead bandits were a bartering chip, moreso than a kindness.

They'd ask for Guardian Angels to protect the town, but instead, received devils.

 

[Nikolos]

Dear…gods…

The pounding in his head was immense, throbbing hard in his temples with each beat of his heart. There was a familiar weight to his eyelids, like elastic ties holding them closed. The first crack blinded him, forcing his arm over his face to shield him from the new day’s light. A deep groan rose from within him, and he tried once more to open his eyes. He rolled onto his side, feeling the rough rasp of straw against his bristled face.

As he came more and more to, he realized he’d ended up in the back of a hay wagon. Who owned it was anyone’s guest, but he’d done no harm.

It took him a few seconds and a few pulses of pain in his head to hear the racket around him. The bells, the shouting, the terror.

Oh you’ve got to be kidding me!

He bolted upright, seeing many defenders and invaders all around him and many other bandits plundering helpless villagers. It wasn’t exactly the ideal way to be roused from such a sleep, but it certainly rid him of his headache – or at least his considering it.

He leapt out from the carriage, landing with a bit of a stumble before unsheathing his sword. He hollered at a few bandits attempting to prey on a few helpless elder folk, and he lunged at them, and his sword met theirs.

 

[Bethany Inman]

Beth backed away from the cellar door rapidly when the screams above started. Then a scream slipped from her own lips when another body she hadn't seen last time she'd come down here stirred and asked her what was going on. Clutching her chest for fear her heart might leap out of it it took her second to recognise him as one of last nights patrons.

"Bandits." she managed as another scream echoed from upstairs. she took another step back, tripping over Maecey's pile of belongings and landing on the sleeping halfling with another squeak. She scrambled to her feet, stammering apologies. The sound of heavy doors shifting came from the other end of the cellar. The bandits had found the loading doors.

***

In the room above, the innkeeper Harry didn't have time to respond to Emery Thatcher as the doors flew open. he brought his broadsword to bear, Andrew standing slightly ahead of him raised his own, but none of them had a chance to charge, the vampire made short work of the first few. They remained rooted to the spot, a mix of shock and fear crossing their faces. Beth's scream from below snapped them both back into reality and they leapt forward to meet the rest that began to rush in.

Nikolos Kristopher Mortas@Smiling One

(FYI to those of you fighting upstairs, my intention is to have the innkeeper and his son die, if you see an oppurtune moment for that to happen feel free to take it, if not i'll keep going as I am)

 

[Maecey]

"WHA?! Maecey shot up as Bethany spilled over the bag she had been holding and fell on top of her.

Her head whipped up almost immediately as she looked up to see the Innkeepers daughter. She recognized the girl from the day before, though barely remembered her. A splitting headache pierced towards Maecey's skull, and as she dragged herself up from the ground she felt herself spinning.

"Wa?" She repeated, looking up at Bethany. "Who?"

Loud banging rung through the cellar and the Halfling winced. "What?"

She looked around for a few moments, spotting her weapons on the floor and meagerly dragging herself over to them as she rubbed her eyeballs.

What the fuck was going on?

 

[Emery Thatcher]

As Emery let out another yawn, the doors were kicked in by the attackers. He went from drowsy to awake in moments. One thrust its sword towards him. Emery didn't pack the greatest punch but his guile would be matched by none. The thief flipped onto the bandits sword and ran over the top of his head. His arrogance unfortunately getting the better of him. He landed face to face with another brigand who wasted no time punching Emery in the jaw.

The young thief stumbled back in pain and looked at the two attacking him. Behind them was the innkeeper struggling to hold off another small group of them. He'd help if he could but he was now backed against a table with two adversaries they charged him as he back flipped onto the table and barely dodging their swings.

Dagger in hand, he looked best he could for an opening but nothing of the sort came. His eyes caught the innkeeper take a blade through the stomach. Poor bastard. Not all of our deaths were meant to be pleasant. Kristopher Mortas was making quick work of some of them but the numbers seemed to be endless. He kept up his dodging hoping that he could get one quick swipe in before the hit him too hard.

<61hp>

 

[Smiling One]

Bandits attacking In Vel Anir? If there's one thing that Vel Anir has over the other cities, is that their lands are well protected. There are always soldiers or Paladins patrolling the roads, bandits would have to be stupid, suicidal or crazy prepared if they were to attack a village within Vel Anir's borders. "Ah shit," Willis said placing his hand on the hilt of his Cutlass.

More noises were heard from behind the door. Screaming, along with the clashing of swords filled the atmosphere. The young girl who mentioned bandits attempted to run away only to trip on a sleeping Halfling. "All right people," Willis said sighing. If he were to survive this, then the first thing was to bring order. "We're gonna have to hold off until Vel Anir troops arrive. So anyone have any weapons?"

 

[Nikolos]

Nikolos played with the bandits, arrogantly. He was a fine swordsmen, with a style blended from all sorts of influence - tucking more than one trick up his sleeve. Today, he played an aggressive game, relenting only to taunt.

“Come on you blaggard, I'll take the lot of you and then some!” The slam of steel, “I see why you're a coward, you can't fight!”

He definitely managed to attract some more dangerous attention. A large sword fell upon him, and he parried it and shoved his shoulder into the man. He stumbled back and tripped over himself, but another took his place quickly. Another clash, and this time he forced the blade up and around, and with the twirl of his wrist flicked the bandit's sword free from his hand.

He reached out and snatched it, and looked at his foe with a wide smile. Shocked, the bandit was only a swift kick in the groin down to his knees. He turned and bound toward another, launching himself toward him with a great leap. He toppled the attacker, and quickly rolled back to his feet.

The other rose as well, and the began to fight one another alongside the inn's exterior. But just out of the corner of his eye he saw him – the one he'd kicked in the balls.

Fu-

The man hit him like a charging bull, and sent Nikolos slamming against the inn, and through the window. He slammed onto the top of a table and rolled off onto the floor.

Now he remembered his headache.

Quickly now, he clambered up to his feet shouting obscenities at the bandits outside before his attention was turned to his immediate surroundings.