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"The Truth shall be spoken and the dead shall have a voice. They will be drawn together by destiny, and the Speaker will prove himself to them...eventually." - John Drisadoa, Prophet Of Minerva

Isaac Raddoc entered the Port City, anxious to be away from the two Gatekeepers who had been questioning him for the past ten minutes. It was exceedingly difficult to travel without being interogated nowadays, since the war had become so devestating. Glancing over his shoulder, he could still see the conical helmets that the Gatekeepers wore. Instead of being fully dressed in armor, they merely wore robes over chain-mail suits, but they were still an intimidating sight. One was a tall burly man with a thick beard and a mace at his waist. The other was as skinny as the sword he wore across his back. The sword was a saber, and that was about all the knowledge Isaac had about it.
Today, Isaac was going to join the Minerva Armed Forces and help defeat the Grandael...but first, he needed to rent a room for the night. He headed with a fresh briskness toward his destination: The Kings Crown Inn. He had heard rumors that this particular inn was exceedingly fine, and that the price was also very low, so that was where he would stay. His brown hair was harrassed by a sudden breeze and he pulled the hood of his brown cloak up to deflect it. The weather was interesting near the coastline.

(OOC: Everyone meets at the King Crown Inn)

Val rode past the guards with a stormy look on her face. She muttered under her breath as she continued to try to reign in her mount. "Fools they've seen me pass here enough their interrogation was uncalled for." She continued to push foreward her mood only being pulled darker by the fact that for some reason Charger was terrifyed of everything. A little furthur and she would be at The Kings Crown Inn and could allow the both of them a rest. The way was made faster because most sensible people attempted to get out of the way not only because of the look on her face but the fact that she was on a well muscled and clearly angry animal was a large help. After rounding a corner she turned to twist and loosen her spine and in doing so didn't see what her mount did at that moment he decided he was terrifyed of the hood of a brown cloak that was blown back. After spinning wildly Valissia decided the best thing to do was to speed and reach her destination. The pair came dangerously close to running down the cloak and she called a brief apology over her shoulder.

Later after settling her horse Val wondered into the Inn her frustration placed carefully beneath an icy mask.

About in the crowd, taking everything in, Aynslyth looked around with a questioning expression. She never travelled when she was younger and wasn't exactly used to being on her own. In a way it made her feel rather silly, being 23 and so confused. Port City was different from where she lived and there was a lot for her to take in at once. Her eyes moved from person to person, shop to shop. After travelling for so long she was fatigued, she remembered the name of an inn her father told her about, the Kings Crown. She started off for it, after spotting it from a distance. On the way her attention was turned to a jewelry shop, since she wasn't drop-dead tired she figured taking a look wouldn't hurt. In the past collecting different jewels was something she enjoyed, though she never had the money to get what she wanted.

She entered the shop with sharp eyes looking for anything that stood out to her. Her eyes were drawn towards a necklace that hung off a silver chain, a circular crystal dangled at the bottom of the chain. Aynslyth eyed it with admiration, stretching a hand out she gently touched the crystal with the tip of her finger. 'Its so beautiful, its a shame, I can't spend what money I have on it.' She hadn't come with a lot of money and wasn't about to take a chance of stealing it and risk being caught. Instead she turned away from the necklace and left the shop. After leaving, with nothing else to do, Aynslyth decided it would be best if she called it a day and went to the inn.

She went inside, looking around. 'Huh, this is quaint, much better than sleeping outside.'

Ian longhill let out a hearty laugh as after several days travel he had arrived at the port town. A small interrogation insued from the gaurds, with simple questions such as: who are you?, where are you from?, whats your business? All those sorts of things. He unfortunatley had to walk the whole way as he couldn't afford a horse, or any other mount for that matter. The people seemed friendly enough, a few people who seemed like they might be dangerous, but nothing to serious. As he walked through the crowd, he felt something nudge where his coinpurse, this made him let out a humored bellow, ever since he had a good sum stolen from him he kept his coinpurse on, but kept all of his money in the bottom of his sword sheath.

A few minutes of walking led him to what seemed to be a rather nice inn, promptly named The Kings Crown. He took a step inside, and ran his hand through his black hair and smiled "much better than expected" Ian said aloud, mostly to himself, but also as a bit of a compliment to anyone who worked here.

Makoma fought for altitude, leathery wings beating against the cold winds high above the ground. He found a thermal and rested for a few moments, circling lazily, allowing the updraft created by the column of warm air to take him higher. Given his physical abilities and the likely weather conditions, he could be at the Port City by dawn tomorrow. A twitch of his long tail steered him back out of the thermal, like a ship's rudder. His legs and claws held tight against his body, he managed to stay a little warmer, but it was still bitterly cold this high. Flying lower would tire him out quicly, however, and he would take longer to reach his destination.

He tilted the barb or his tail slightly in anticipation of a sudden gust and rode it a few feet higher. Gliding when he could and riding the thermals when he couldn't, Makoma made his way across nearly a hundred miles in a single day, stopping for a few hours' rest when the night became too cold.

There it was. Port City. Not as grand as the temple had been, but it was the only place that satisfied the numerous prophecies. Perhaps the sun rising behind it lent the buildings a golden halo, but the knowledge that it was a result of light diffused through the morning dew and reflected off of cheap bricks ruined the effect.

Makoma considered the idea that sometimes, knowing the trick ruined the magic. Oh well.

Rolling on his back in midair as he soared over the walls, he watched the guards harass anyone that walked too close. A flip of a wingtip righted him again moments before a snap of his wings halted his forward momentum and deposited him atop a building. From his vantage point, he surveyed the city.

Those three inns are located near the gate, and therefore likely meeting places for the others. Given its location on a side street, steps down into the building, and the familiar nods between those entering and leaving, the Gilded Flagon is likely patronized primarily by locals. Thus, locals would send outsiders looking for an inn to a different location more often than not. Rosie's does not appear to have an attached eatery, making it marginally less likely. The King's Crown appears to fulfill the criteria. Eatery and inn, near the gate, and judging from the varied gear of the horses being tended by the grooms, likely frequented by travellers. King's Crown it is.

Another heave from his tired wings launched Makoma off the edge of the building and into the rising air from a chimney below. Riding the warm air, he soared to the inn and landed on the roof. His heavy claws tore the leather cord off the trapdoor on the roof, and he made his way inside. No ladder below, but rather the common room. Nestling himself among the rafters, he rested and waited for the others, his eyes shining like wet onyx in by the light of the lamps.

Valissia had settled into a chair and rested her chin on the palm of one hand. The seris of piercings that ran down her back throbbed lightly and she was sure her battle with her mount had cause a couple to bleed. Sighing she closed her eyes to listen to her surrondings. In doing so she picked up the sound of the door above opening and someone settling in. Curiosity set a slow curve spreading over her lips as she lifted animal like eyes to the ceiling. She saw black eyes when her eyes came to rest and her grin widened. Maybe she had found something interesting in comeing to this place.

Isaac entered the inn and noticed that a fair amount of foreign travelers were already standing inside the Common Room. A fat, balding man in a spotless apron appeared to greet him from behind a thick oak desk. The Innkeeper, a man who called himself Jacob Doyle, was not a strict man, but he was a no-nonsense kind of man. Isaac had only heard rumors about him, but the man was a legendary business man.

"Hello," Isaac extended a glove-clad hand towards the short man, who stood a good head shorter then Isaac. Isaac was of average height for a Mountainer, and that meant he was only around 5'6".
"Greetings, I am Master Jacob Doyle. I am the Owner and Proprietor of this fine establishment." The man shook Isaac's hand, and surprisingly his hands felt incredibly soft and clean. That was an oddity for most Innkeepers. "My prices are cheap, my rooms are clean and my food is edible."
"How much for a room?"
"Five bronze coins. Port Marks, please. Some stores here don't except any other type of currency." Isaac handed the man the amount, in exchange for an upstairs room key. A night of sleep after the tiresome travel would be gladly accepted.

When Isaac had entered the inn, he had not noticed how odd the other travelers appeared. One man wore a sword like it was part of his flesh, and a women sitting in a chair seemed...flamboyantly dark. An odd mix. Striding toward a clear table, Isaac took a seat and ordered a plate of green beans and steak when a serving maid passed. He also ordered some fine lemonade. He did not drink alchoholic beverages. He was completely oblivious of the strange creature which was hiding above him in the rafters.

Valissia dropped her gaze deciding it was a good time to note the others in the Inn. She shifted to lean carefully back in her chair as the daiquiry she ordered was placed in front of her. She started it as she thought of how long she would remain there befor moving on and where she would go next. 'A couple days if nothing interesting happens then I'll just pick a trail.'

The shadows of the back streets behind the King Crown Inn veiled Locke Briggs in darkness as he waited for his employer to arrive, rats scuttling back and forth in the corners. The noise of both those inside the Inn and those on the streets could still be heard loud and clear, the area more often than not being extremely busy with all kinds of human traffic, mainly travellers and also some locals. For these reasons it made the best place for him to meet his employer, any dealings tended to go largely unnoticed.

Footsteps echoed through the alley and Locke shifted his position slightly as he placed a hand on the hilt of his sword. The figure of a man clad in black leathers made its way around the corner, his features barely visible due to the hood that covered his head. Locke gave a small sigh and shifted his hand away from the sword.

The man who had just arrived dropped the hood down to his shoulders, "Always the same sour look on that face of yours, Briggs, I reckon that somethin' would break if you ever smiled".

Locke scowled at him, his deep, weary voice initially sounding like a growl, "Aye, just give me the damned coins, this contract has been enough trouble as it is, don't need a smart mouth to add to it". The man smirked and nodded in acknowledgement, sifting around in his pockets before presenting a small leather purse, tied at the top with a simple knot made from string, "There's been no lack of trouble lately, for sure..." he commented as he handed the bag to Locke. "Security has been so tight 'cause of the war, this'll likely be the last contract unless you feel like joining us". Locke furrowed his brow at hearing this and gave a dismissive sigh, "I've no interest in guild politics, I'll be in the King Crown Inn if anything comes up".

Locke emerged from the black alleyways, becoming bathed in light as he quickly made his way to the entrance of the Inn.

Locke swung open the door and was followed by a small gust of wind that whistled through the room, causing his heavy black cloak to sway against him, momentarily revealing the sword that hung freely at his side. Standing in the doorway for a moment, he readjusted his cloak. Appearing to be roughly 6'1, although favouring his right foot, Locke stood with a slight slouch that could be misleading when determining his height. Those who recognized him stole a glance or two and traded whispers amongst themselves, mainly mercenarys or locals that he had dealings with. He slammed the door closed behind him and made his way to an empty table, striding across the room with heavy, confident footsteps, the metal on the heels of his boots occasionally making a barely audible clink.

His watchful eyes surveyed the room, as usual there was a lot of new faces, as well as some locals whom knew him well enough to stay away from him. He tipped the pouch of coins out on the table and began to count them. Something seemed different about the Inn today, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Isaac noticed that a new man, a very...Well, there wasn't really a word to describe the aura that seemed to eclise the new entry...and he also noticed that he was armed. The Innkeeper seemed to be keeping his distance from that particular man, and was beginning to walk around the inn and comfort the locals. Odd. He didn't know if he should pray that he survives this man, or ask the man if he can pray for him. Suddenly, a smell reached his nose that he'd never smelt before. Sure, Isaac had some strange gift when it came to sensing a person's aura, but he had never smelt an aura before. This aura was dark, much darker then the aura of any of the visitors at the King's Crown combined and it was coming towards them. Isaac stood and walked over to the Innkeeper, intending to warn him. It would raise suspicions on how he knew that sort of stuff, but it was worth saving the other men and women in this building.

It was too late.

A dark figure entered the inn, wearing a tattered black scarf and a katana, and suddenly his eyes rested on Isaac. Isaac's spine froze, and he realized that he couldn't have moved if he had wanted to. This man was using some kind of dark magic on him!

Ire Jackal stepped through the front doorway, and channeled a bit of Dark Energy. Dark Energy, the invisible magic, was his most trusted ally, and today it would supply him with a thousand rewards. The second that the Grandael had learned about the Prophecies Of the Speaker, he had ordered his most elite assassins sent out to locate and kill this boy before he became as powerful as foretold. Now, using the Prophecies to guide him, he had found his way to the quiet little inn located in the Port City, Montrilis.

The boy who he had temporarily paralyzed with Dark Magic seemed to be shocked at the sight of him. Ire nearly was as shocked as the boy was. He had reacted to quickly. If only he had taken time and not jumped the gun, then he would not have to worry. If there were any other powerful Dark Magicians here, then his cover would be blown. He rushed up to the boy and grabbed him by the arm.

"Take a seat, boy." The young man was forced to comply. "I know who you are." Oddly, the boy seemed puzzled. "And I'm here to destroy you." That sent a pin through the boys thick skull. He took on a look of pure resenment and sat there glaring at Ire's face. All this happened in a matter of seconds, and quietly. Only someone spying from the rafters would have noticed anything odd going on...

The gust of wind sent her dark hair to rest infront of her face. Sighing she ran a hand through her hair so that it spilled across her shoulders and comepletly veiled one of her eyes. She had never been one to hold her tounge and decided to speak when the man who had caused the comotion walked by. Right before she spoke a crackle of energy crept through the air but she ignored it placeing a bored smirk on her lips. "That was quiet the entrance now wasn't it? A bit windy out there." Her voice had the unintentional lilt of a purring hunter.

Ire glanced at her from his seated position, giving the boy a look that said, 'Don't try anything, or everyone here will die as well.' and then responded to the strange lady.

"When you live a limited life, every entrance should be 'quite' an entrance. Yes, the Coast is always blustering. By your lack of...local appearance...I'm guessing you are a foreigner. Are you all in one traveling party?" He motioned with his eyes to the other obvious foreigners in the room. If they were, perhaps this was the Speaker's entourage. If not, then killing a few witnesses wouldn't blacken Ire's heart anymore then it already was. Murder was essential. Torture was entertainment.

Valissia nodded almost to her self in regaurds to the stranger's remarks on his entrance. Shifting back she trailed her fingertips around the edge of the glass infront of her. She had a knack for knowing a threat when she saw it and one seemed to be starring her down now. Holding his gaze with her own cat-like eyes she spoke again. "I've never met anyone in this room....which is odd for me to be honest."

Makoma listened, the dark man drawing his attention. Men such as him were rare, and in a time such as these, any sign was something. Perhaps a clue-

"Take a seat, boy. I know who you are. And I'm here to destroy you."

Some signs are more like mile-high banners than actual signs. A jagged bit of uncertainty rushed through Makoma. Being smart is not the same as knowing what to do, so he fell back on his strengths. Swiftly and quietly, he darted across the ceiling, stopping in a pool of shadows above the man and the boy. The Speaker. Makoma spoke as well. Not to the men below, but to his brothers. The sound was like millions of tiny, chitinous legs tapping, scrabbling, scraping, rushing out of the dark parts of the mind, all woven around the shrill screech of some hellish cicada.

Every vermin that crawled, hopped, wriggled or flew within a hundred yards simply froze. As one, they surged towards the King's Crown, their tiny minds filled with the image of the dark man.

Something was wrong, so many foreigners in this single inn... especially the figure who had made such a grand entrance with katana at his hip. This wasn't something to shrug off, no, it defiantly wasn't. The boy who had been approached by the man seemed uncomfortable to say the least... that could mean nothing, and it could mean a lot of things. Ian instinctively unsheathed his sword with his left hand, about a thumbs length. There was no mistake about it, this was not a good man, and if he made a move, so would Ian. It took a lot of will power for Ian not to simply go over there and ask if something was wrong, if this truly was a bad man, that could be a horrible, horrible mistake. However, another man was there as well... he didn't seem so much of a threat as he did make Ian extremely uncomfortable... he reminded him of a demon.

"I've never been one for conversation." Ire explained in a very exasperated tone. He noticed the subtle movement that one of the warriors made. They were uncomfortable, and worried perhaps. Ire should just grab the boy and flee, but something instinctive told him that he would learn some kind of a secret from this group if he stuck around. Information was a joy to come by. "I have a question. Two, actually. Why are you all here? What do you know about the Prophecies Of The Speaker?"

Click. Something was clicking above Isaac, and his eyes rose to the ceiling rafters. A pair of dark eyes stared down at him, and his spine tingled. He did not scream, nor did he run in terror from those dark eyes, but instead he looked at them with an odd sense of compassion and spoke this words. "Your on my side." It was simply a statement.

Ire heard the boy mutter something and was shocked to find that, somehow, the boy had unconsciously broken free of the dark magic that Ire had placed over him, and was now talking! To the ceiling! Ire's eyes followed the younger man's. Something dark and insect-like was up there. Ire walked over to the boy and grabbed him by the arm. "Actually, it's time for me and my...nephew to go. I'm sorry," Dang! He couldn't believe he had just said that! Manners were for fools. "We must be going...before something unfortunate befalls both of us." That last part was whispered silently to the boy before he began dragging him along. Toward the front door of the inn.

Valissia felt something was wrong then. She had travled alot in her years and knew a lie when she heard one. She felt mentally for the weight of her weapons and tensed. "I'm here of my own accord I know nothing of the Prophecies."

Lie.

She knew what hel their attention at the ceiling and stood shortly after they did. Moving with the grace of a hunting cat she came to a halt in front of the man with a brief glance at the boy he was dragging along. 'You're going to get yourself killed one day.' She resisted the urge to roll her eyes only because she knew that little voice was correct. "Why leave so soon? If I'm right a room has already been held for you and you're certain to find more ill will wandering the night then you would here." Her voice was calm but determined. Nothing good would come of them leaving now.

This definatly wasn't right, he hesitated on "nephew", he lied on the spot. The man asked something of Prophecies, Ian, living with monks for a while, learned a good bit of prophecies, not that of the Speaker. Ian remained silent as the man began to leave, an he wasn't the only one that suspected something was wrong with this picture, a lady was delaying thier departure. A simply movement was made, Ian rolled in front of the door and drew his sword to the full length. Ian smiled and said "please, stay awhile... I have a feeling your story will be quite interesting" he assumed his stance, blocking the main exit of the building.

"I can fend for both of us. Give our room to a begger who needs it." Yuck! Hospitality! Ire nearly gagged. He eased the Dark Katana from it's sheath. "This is my weapon. Any bandit or nightstalker who tries to prevent us from traveling at our own set pace will have to cut through me first." This was not going well. He prepared a few Dark Magic Attacks that would send the woman flying across the room. "Please, step aside."

Isaac was surprised to learn that he could speak. "He's not my uncle! Look out, he's trying to kill us all!" The man seemed shocked to hear the words come out of Isaac's mouth, and moved away from him. The man went into a defensive sword stance and suddenly, Isaac could feel something dark happening. The man was using Dark Magic!

"Stay back or I'll blast you all to kingdom come!" Ire yelled. If one of them made a step forward, he would blast them with as much Dark Energy as he could.

Locke watched carefully as the events unfolded, the immediate moment the man with the scarf entered the Inn, he knew.

Dark magic. Having worked for a wizard skilled with it for so long, he could tell a practitioner a mile away. Due to the posture and precise manner in which he moved, he was also extremely proficient with the blade he carried. This was, to somebody sane, extremely bad news, being a specialist in dark magic was one thing, but if his suspicions were correct then this man was equally --if not more so-- as able in close quarters combat.

Locke shifted his position to face the disturbance that was taking place, enthralled by the tension that had gathered in the room, it was almost palpable. A menacing smirk spread across his face, he had no knowledge of the prophecy that they spoke of, but he knew something big was about to take place.

Two of the other foreigners rushed to the aid of the boy that was now being dragged by the scarfed man. Locke sat back in his chair, quite relaxed, and spoke out to the rest of them, his voice thick with an almost sarcastic delight, "Better watch out, aye. Man in the scarf knows somethin' of the dark arts."

Locke grimaced and inhaled deeply through his mouth, "Can almost taste it", immediately after saying this his face returned to its usual scowl as he made himself comfortable to watch what was about to take place, confident he could handle whatever happened.

Evidently, Locke was still the only one who had not noticed the strange creature lurking in the rafters...