Ebsen: Breaking the Curse (Open/Accepting)

[MilkHoney]

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Table of Contents

Plot
Setting
Characters
Events
Weather

Ebsen Recruitment
Ebsen Encyclopedia
Ebsen OOC Chat


RATING Mature: Demons aren't butterflies and rainbows, and morality isn't their specialty, so I feel justified in having them commit atrocious acts. Though I'm rating this mature, I do not condone porn, and as such, will report violations. Do not put descriptive sex or sexual violence on the forums.

[MilkHoney]

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Plot

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The Story Ebsen, an oasis city in the deserts of Carna, is cursed. For the crime of entombing their warlock lord centuries ago, Ebsen hasn't had a night pass without fiends and imps gallivanting through the streets, making merry and spilling blood. Until the warlock is brought back from the realm of the dead, the curse shall not end and the demons shall roam freely. But what would wake a warlock from death's sleep? And who would want to reawaken that wrathful creature?

[MilkHoney]

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Setting

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Background Carna is a vast desert, and its people are largely isolated from the events of the rest of the world by impassable leagues of arid landscape. The few settlements cluster around oases, such as Ebsen. There is no collective government, each settlement is self governed by local authorities. Raw natural minerals are in abundance on the surface but are largely undisturbed due to superstition and insufficient technology. Nomads are dependent on oral history to move safely from waterhole to waterhole, though their risky lifestyle allows for trade and animal herding. The wealthy water barons are in control of the deep wells fed by subterranean lakes; this control is maintained through brute force and intimidation because the practice of monopolizing water is taboo.
It has been four hundred years since the warlock lord was slain and entombed. Ebsen has gotten used to its curse. Demon hunters regularly trek to the oasis city for work and practice their trade while the people of Ebsen retire into their homes for the sunset curfew. Merchants selling protective charms become as wealthy as water barons. The nomadic tribes pass through rarely, but often leave with disheartened people, wishing for a home where they can venture outside during the cool nights without fear.

The Stage
Image Coming Soon

[MilkHoney]

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Characters

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Players.........................................Characters
In Order of Appearance

Milk Honey

• Lord Maelgwyr the Oathbreaker: a human man dead for the past 400 years famed throughout Carna for his dealings with demons and the Ebsen curse
  
• Simon: a villager locally known as the oldest man
  
• Med: a devil imprisoned by Maelgwyr’s father

Antarique

• Alaxhir: cambion scholar researching demons, Ebsen, and his heritage
  
• Kejhwa the Demoness: a female demon of considerable age and unofficial caretaker of the Lord’s tomb famed within the local populace for her unfiendish attitude

ValaunDae'Voth

• Unnamed Woman: a woman injured in a demon attack and subsequently rescued
• D'Vaid Sandwhisper: a fiend cursed man of considerable fighting prowess

Machubi-Uniki

• Onostazia: a tavern girl discontent with the attitude and routine of Ebsen
  
• Unnamed Orphan: a boy rescued before the sandstorm and saver of Onostazia from the devil

VemarielImbelinde

• Haliid: a one-eyed opportunistic slaver
• Shiaz To'Kuuya: a mage with aspirations to end the curse and a history of violence
  
• Aoibhín: cambion demon singer from the lineage of the Lord’s slayer
  
• Eirlys: a woman from the lineage of the Lord’s slayer
  
• Braith: a boy from the lineage of the Lord’s slayer

towers

• Cain: a habitual drunkard living in the domicile of his sister
  
• Derek: an aggrieved brother-in-law, husband of Shawna
  
• Shawna: a pregnant woman, sister of Cain, wife of Derek

[MilkHoney]

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Events

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TBA

[MilkHoney]

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Weather

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Sandstorm

[MilkHoney]

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OPEN & ACCEPTING

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[MilkHoney]

The bell was tolling in Ebsen, announcing for miles the approach of sunset. Yam farmers were already on their way home from the fields, anticipating nightfall with the same ancient instinct as the anticipation of heavy rain. Their wives would have palm wine waiting for them, chilled in the cellar under the mudbrick home, and the children would be huddled around the cooking pot, waiting for papa to get his share before they descended upon the food.

The oldest man in the village would sit upon the road, a gray powdery root dangling from his slack jaw to chew as he waited for death. He was always waiting, but never taken. Imps would tug at his bush of white hair, and fiends would fuck the orphans, taunting him that he hadn’t gotten it up since his wife died. They’d kill before him, unmindful when the blood splattered and struck his quavering form. Their cruelty lay in never killing him as well.

The road ran straight, the spine of the town, and the oldest man could see the oasis which fed their homes. It was better to face this way, where he could get a last glimpse of its humble beauty should he be killed. He kept the Lord's palace at his back; if death ever came for him, it would be from that direction. He did not want to gaze on that cursed place in his final moments anyway.

Farthest from the green heart of Ebsen, at the end of the main road, was the Lord's palace. Built of quarried stone and guarded by two monoliths carved to depict a fantastical garden, vibrantly painted to outshine the beauty of the oasis, a palpable monument to his power, and a tribute to the Lord's prestigious history. True, the Lord had been dead for centuries, and so it wasn't really his property anymore. But no one else lived there. The Lord had not left his house. A foreigner might suppose it had not been passed on to a new owner due to it being in severely bad taste to occupy a tomb whilst alive, but foreigners are habitually wrong. Entering was taboo. Not even the demons dared go in there. It bore no resemblance to life, having willfully taken on the mantle of the tomb. Being a house of the dead pleased the former palace. It liked it. Immensely.

The oldest man shifted his bones, restless tonight for a reason he couldn't fathom. Was there a demon at his back? Was it waiting for him to turn around, that he might lose sight of the desert's garden? It would be in a devil's nature to deprive him of his death wish. He peered around but saw nothing. The closest demon was an imp, an obnoxious but presently harmless fellow trying to eat the flame off a lantern. Maybe he was wishing too hard for a demon at his back, maybe he imagined the prickling on his neck. His wife would have chuckled at his foolishness, lovingly calling him her silly Simon. There was no one alive who remembered his name anymore.

The demons would nightly gather before the monoliths, bringing their victims like host presents, toasting with stolen wine to the dead lord. It was not that hour yet, there were still victims to be found and wine to be stolen, but already a demon was there, howling in fits from its crocodile mouth.

On this night, while the oldest man endured devilish torments hoping for release, while families gathered into their homes to hide from the evil on their doorstep, while the tomb stood silent sentinel to the workings of its master’s curse, a sandstorm brewed to the west. Within an hour, the world would be black, the moon’s light hidden by the rages of the storm. Anyone not indoors tonight would suffocate on sand before the fiends could find them. It could well be the night the oldest man in Ebsen died.

[VemarielImbelinde]

A small group of desert nomads had barely made it inside before the night came. The wind howled fiercely rattling the shutters. A coming sandstorm. They could hear clawing at the walls. Robed from head to toe sitting in their corner of the inn they looked for their contact mumbling nervously to each other in their foreign tongue. Quietly three different figures sat with the cowls thrown over and frightening masks with bulging eyes and fangs. Shackled and bound in chains it was obvious these nomads were slavers. One looked over at the innkeeper for a moment studying the empty eyes. The screams that were terrifying his men did not effect this man. With a scoff and a click of his tongue the dark slaver walked to the counter, "Were here for Shiaz To'Kuuya."

The inn keeper nodded pointed to the stairs, "Upstairs in 107 on the right."

"Thank you very much." The slaver gave him a yellowed smile peeking out from the black shaggy beard. He looked back to his company and gestured for them to bring his three scores. One tugged on the chains and led the mysterious figures up the stairs blindly. One stumbled and was reprimanded from behind with curses. The first man with the yellow teeth started up the stairs and gave the slave a shove to move it. It was slow and clumsy progress but they made it to the door and were pushed into the room with the door closed behind them.

After the man with yellow teeth listened for a second he greet Shiaz with that same smile. The counter gesture was less than friendly as Shiaz shot out rudely, "Well did you find them? Are these them? This better not be another sham Haliid or it's your head."

"Tsk..tsk tsk old friend." Haliid shook his finger non-nonchalantly, "Would I cheat you my most patient and good old friend." he bowed in mock respect, "What was promised is what I brought. Three of the bloodline of Lord Maelgwyr's slayer. The great hero left a first wife my sources say, one he abandoned with child and went to the arms of his lover. The lover that he ultimately traveled into Ebsen with."

"How do you know this for sure? What proof? Remember the last time Haliid?" the mage kept his voice down but the worry was there.

Haliid felt the eye socket, a souvenir of they're last encounter, "How could I?" he said grimly with hatred dripping his characteristically cheerful voice, "I made sure through blood magic this time old friend. Three children of the Hero and here is the seal of the Blood Mage Goerymphyr. Are you satisfied?" Haliid held out the seal to Shiaz.

Shiaz snatched it up and analyzed it up and down before he was satisfied, "Good....here is your payment." he gestured to a small chest on the table, "Take it and be gone." he didn't look up from the seal. A glint of madness in his eyes.

Haliid opened the chest for his own inspection then closed it with a thud of finality glad to be done with this man. He looked over his shoulder as he headed out the door with his fellow, "Oh by the way Shiaz the eldest is a demon singer just like you heard from your sources about. It's really the three you were looking for." he closed the door behind him and his footsteps faded away.

Shiaz was hopping up and down in sadistic glee. He tore off their masks and looked at each of his posession one by one. The youngest was a boy with brown ruffled hair and pale freckled skin. He moved on to the middle and looked up and down on her body. A young woman no more than 18. A thin and disappointing creature with light blond hair and blue eyes. Then came the eldest and he lingered on her most of all. His sullen in dark eyes taking in her matured curves and alabaster complexion. He fingered at the light blond hair and made her look at him with those lovely blue eyes. "The demon singer...you are not a disappointment. Your names all of you."

Sickened in her stomach of this man she feared what she saw in those black eyes. She tried to yank away from his thin fingers and step back but he grabbed her by the wrist and forced her on her knees and repeated his question. She answered through clenched teeth, "Aoibhín..."

"Good that wasn't so hard now was it." he pointed at the other two, "Well..."

"Eirlys..." the middle answered with her eyes to the floor. The fresh wounds on her face and arms burned as reminders of disobedience.

The boy looked at his defeated elder sister and hesitated. His response shot out in a moment of fear as the man named Shiaz gestured towards him, "Braith!"

Shiaz laughed at the boy and looked at his happy acquisitions. He clapped his hands together and a delicious hum fumbled out, "Now Demon Singer we are going to get you to sing for our Lord...and he'll rise again and no more demons will terrorize us." he hummed some more and danced around. Was he insane? "I have it all now. The blood of the slayer and a song to sing to the dead. The magic inscriptions and incantations, the candles and broken artifacts. You are going to lift the curse little Demon Singer and if you don't I'll throw your siblings to the demons and you'll hear them screaming forever...if the demons don't do worse than eats them." he laughed, "After all your ancestor started all this. Who knows what will happen if they find out you're here..."

He went to the door and pressed his ear against the wood. No one was listening in. No shadow under the door. His eyes shifted back and forth as he moved to the middle of the room. No doubt there would be a pounding on his door once the night came. Shiaz was a cleric and one of the few capable of healing and his ability was beyond most. His eye twitched, "They'll be here soon...for me. Again and again and again." he ruffled his salt and pepper hair. He was a dark man of the nomadic stock. His eyes were as dark and uncaring as the shadows themselves. He looked around the room to where he could put them but the small open space didn't serve his need. Shiaz chained them to a brace in the wall, "Don't try anything. Once nightfalls you're trapped here. I can scry in this room." he stated as he opened the door and looked back at them. With that he slammed the door and they could hear his footsteps down the stairs.

[Antartique]

Ebsen. The Oasis of Death, the Place where Nights Vanished, the Mouth of the End. Ebsen. Framed by the Sunset, the sound of bells chiming loudly over the loud chirping of devils as they came out of their holes to cause mischief. The sound of Death itself.

He remembered the tales he had been told as a kid, his Mother's heartbroken's voice being the only thing he could hear clearly from his childhood. 'Never go in there', she had said. 'Never head back there'. He had bowed to not do it, but the past events had already broken the limit for 'never'. He had to know. He had to see. He had to feel on his own exactly what was so wrong about his Mother's hometown.

He remembered the tales he had been told as a kid. And he remembered the tales he had been told as he studied. And now, at twenty seven, he remembered the tales he heard from traveling around looking for the entrance to the world of Demons. Maybe, just maybe, Ebsen was the door that would lead him there, to the world where his Mother had gone and returned from, broken and empty with the exception of her womb.

Maybe there wasn't a world of Demons. Maybe Ebsen was the place where they spawned. Maybe it held the key to solve the mystery they were. Maybe, just maybe, the answers he had been looking for, since birth, would be there.

But nothing would advance if he stayed outside the gates. The sandstorm was getting closer, he could hear them, and he didn't want to cross paths with it. Walking had already gotten hard, as the wind created small storms on his feet and the sand got caught in his cloak. He shielded his eyes with an arm, holding the silver walking stick (a proud proof of his profession) tightly and trying not to trip on his way.

There was an old man sitting on the road. Had he given up already? He guessed anyone would, living in such a place for so long. But it was no use worrying for the man, so he ignored him completely. A certain Demoness, however, did not, and as he walked past her he bowed his head. Respect your elders, and Demons were mostly old.

As he walked past the Demoness he wondered, would there be an Inn in Ebsen? There should be, demon hunters dropped almost daily to train their minds against their enemies. Perhaps it would be expensive, perhaps he wouldn't find one. But there was one thing he knew for sure.

He wasn't leaving until he had his answers.

~-*-~

Bells. Those annoying bells that announced the coming of nightfall, for four hundred years. The day they had been put in there had been something to the remember, as most devils had been pissed at the idea someone had dared to try and show them how things were done.

Ah, bells. The beautiful sound Kejhwa previously liked, now had turned into something she despised. The coming of nightfall. Right. In the past she had actually looked forward to hearing them every night, as hunters and new people came out from their shelters and began looking for something. For what, she never understood. Humans could be greedy, and she was a demon.

Did she act the part of a demon? Her rather big horns were a prominent feature when walking through Ebsen bathed in moonlight, but most people didn't fear her much any longer. They feared her horns, her eyes, her tail, but not her as a whole. According to other of her race, she wasn't... as devilish as she should. She didn't kill people for the fun, she didn't enjoy the chorus of screams as she tortured little boys, she didn't... really mind.

She was older than any other creature in Ebsen anyways. Such things had long since stopped being funny. No human could reach her age, and most of the little devils that wandered around didn't go older than five hundred as humans killed them.

Humans were disgusting. And rather interesting too.

Carna was full of humans. But for the thousand years she had been alive (might be more, she lost count after the third hundred), they had never approached the Demons. They remained in their own towns, isolated from the other people, in self supported little state cities of their creation. They had stayed away.

But now there were hunters. It was full of them. Back when Lord Maelgwyr had been alive they didn't even come near Ebsen. Now they walked the town as if it was their own, in day and night alike. Ebsen, the Paradise of the Hunters... Yeah right.

Well, the bells had stopped. Night was falling closer and closer, and she had a Tomb to guard. Now, though, was time for a break. There was a rather nice family that had offered her food, and while humans were disgusting, she couldn't deny their food was delicious.

As she walked down the road heading for the tavern, she pondered on the many people living around. Most of them she knew by name, and she had seen people leave, people die, new births... ew arrivals.

A man walking the opposite way bowed before her and turned her head around as she walked past. He was an odd one, and gave a rather interesting impression at first glance, dressed in all gray, with a silver cane held in hand... Iokme? The Seaside City... Although it wasn't really a sea, most like a big Oasis surrounded by at least five cities. Besides he smelled sort of odd. And it wasn't just... salt odd. Perhaps a half-bred?

But it was no fun pondering on people she would just see for a while. Here was another interesting person in town. Without hesitation, she sat besides the oldest human of Ebsen.

"Good evening, Simon. How are you tonight?"

[towers]

The sounds of the night came quickly to the ears of a young man who seemed to be passed out on the floor of small living room. The stench of booze was soaked in his ratty filthy clothes and a stream of drool could be seen connecting his mouth to the dirt floor. At first glance, the scrawny young man looked to be a beggar who was fortunate enough to sucker someone into letting him stay the night; and that is exactly what was going on.

“Cain, Get your filthy butt up and clean my damn living room! The fact that my wife is your sister will not prevent me from kicking your ass!” a voice shouted; waking the young tramp up from his slumber.

Cain’s eyes opened to see a burly man standing over him with an empty bottle in his hand. “You drank all my ale again didn’t you?” The strong man asked with more anger in his voice than curiosity. “Get up you bum. “ He continued without waiting for a response as he kicked his bother-in-law on his side.

Cain struggled to stand on his feet and gain his bearings. He was a few inches taller than the bigger man; he was a few inches taller than most people he meets, but the lack of any real muscles prevents him from intimidating anyone. “I didn’t drink all of it.” The young man protested with the smell of alcohol still on his breath. “And you shouldn’t be yelling. There’s a pregnant lady in the other room trying to sleep.” Cain informed the owner of the house as he looked around the dirty room for a half empty bottle he knew he left somewhere.

“If it wasn’t night already I swear I would kick you out of my house right now.” The man said through his teeth. “I can’t understand why your sister still puts up with you.” He continued as he turned his back to Cain and headed to the kitchen. Cain pretended to look busy as he waited for Derek, his sister’s husband and soon-to-be father of his niece, to leave the room before plopping down on one of the empty chairs and taking a swig of what was left of the ale.

Before she got married, Cain was the only family his sister had. Shawna was the older one of the two orphans and took care of Cain for most of his life, and his trouble-making tendencies didn’t make it any easier for her. Cain was only nine when his parents were killed by demons; Shawna was thirteen. Now twenty-two, Cain has been in jail a handful of times and worked for a short while as a servant for a wealthy family before he was caught stealing and was fired on the spot. With no place to go and no money to his name, he has been living off his sister and her husband for the past month and half. But things are starting to look up for this thin troublemaker; there’s bound to be money in tomb raiding.

[Machubi-Uniki]

She had grown tired of the sound of bells, the announcer to the murderous abyss that was soon to come. Onostazia had grown tired of the constant resonance, the never ending ringing that told of the terrible death that was soon to arrive at another innocent doorstep. She had grown weary of the monsters and the hunters they attracted. The hunters that made a mess of the pub she worked in, the hunters who saw her as nothing but a pretty someone to keep them company. Though most of all, she had grown tired of watching the people of the town lose all hope of ever living through the night. Yet still she hid, doing nothing but sitting inside her house, scared to help the screaming woman merely wishing that someone would save her.

That night she vowed she would take the life of at least one demon, or so she wished. As the sun was lowering preparing to leave them into a dark oblivion a small voice cried out. Though she wished for nothing more but to have one less reason to stay in hiding she could not ignore a child’s sob.

Onostazia ran through the village past the closing doors, and around small homes until she had at last found the small orphaned boy. Taking him into her hands she scurried back to her own doorstep and beckoned the small child in.

She turned and watched the ever approaching sandstorm come closer and closer to Ebsen. She observed the shadow it created at her doorstep. She observed the shifting sand before her, and the monster that appeared from that sand. Onostazia realized the danger scarcely in time to back into her house, but not in time to close the door.

The demon lunged at her driving his claw into her leg. The twenty-two year old woman released a scream of agony before falling to the ground. The demon began to pull its unfortunate victim out of her house, but Onostazia was not going to give up the fight as so many others had done before her. She pulled from her sleeve a dagger she kept for self-defense at the pub and stabbed the monster’s eyes. It screeched and howled in pain, but did not release its victim, so she went for the monsters arm. That time it did release her, the young woman used her arms and remaining leg to haul herself back into her small home.

Once inside she saw the demon prepare to lunge once more at her and she closed her eyes in preparation. Instead, to her pleasure, she found herself with no further injury for the young boy had closed and locked the door before the demon could heave himself at her. Onostazia smiled at the young child, she tried to focus her eyes on the boy but she was in to much pain and thus the child faded out of her view.

[ValaunDae'Voth]

A man who had the looks of a hunter walked,wrapped in his heavy robes against the winds that were beginning to kick up. A woman walked next too him,she appeared as more of a weak and frail woman,possibly on their way to Ebsen to hole up for the night before departing and using her large companion as protection in the dangerous desert. The sun was already getting low,sunset was maybe an hour or two away so the pair moved with as much haste as they could manage without over exerting themselves.
Suddenly the sands nearby exploded and two large,lupine fiends surged forth and tore into the man before he had a chance to draw his blade. Blood flew and screams filled the air as the demon's tore into the man's flesh,eating bone and entrails alike. After one of them had had their fill the horrid fiend turned it's attention on the woman while his brother finished the man's flesh.

Not far away stood a man,a heavy hood about his face,his tan cloak billowed in the wind behind him while the golden medallion around his neck glinted in the waning daylight. A falcon sat on his shoulder,dutifully scanning the area while his master did the same.
Finally he whispered something and the bird took flight and seconds later let out a small shriek. Nodding,the man gripped his longbow and took off running,following his loyal falcon over through the harsh winds and over dunes.
His falcon made another,nigh imperceptible call and the man nodded again came rushed up another dune in a crouch. Cresting the top he notched an arrow and sighted one of the beasts,the one still gnawing on the dead man's skull. There was a quiet "Thwang" as his bowstring snapped and the fiend let out a slight yelp as the arrow took it in the eye.The creature fell over,it's arms and legs spasming as the throws of death overtook it.

The other beast dropped the unconscious woman at the sound of it's brother's cry just in time to see a small falcon slam into it's face,all screeching feathers and slashing talons.The assault lasted a moment,but the bird took flight once more,leaving a shredded face and one useless eye in it's wake.
The horrid creature wailed in agony and shook it's head to clear the blood from it's features. This time when it looked up,the hooded man was flying at it,his tan cloak whipping behind him,two of the four bone handled daggers strapped to his waist now in his hands. He landed on the thing,the daggers digging deep into it's chest,the beast wailed in pain and desperately tried tearing the man free,it managed to get one of it's feet beneath his torso and kicked him off,sending him flying a dozen feet. The man however nimbly landed on his feet and retrieved the other two daggers from his belt,the other two having been left in the beast's torso.
He took one by the point and whipped it into the fiend's good and eyes rushed forward as it reared back,wailing and clawing at the protrusion. The wail was cut short as his other blade passed into the thing's throat and then lodged into the back of it's head.

The man stood up,wiping blood from his blades and retrieving his bone arrow from the other creature's head. He the went about collecting the dead man's valuables,gold,jewelry,weapons,and then covered him in his blood stained cloak and said a quick prayer.
He ran over to the woman next,and patched her shallow wounds up and wrapped her in his cloak,for her clothes had been torn from her s voluptuous body.
Before grabbing the woman up he turned and sever two of each demon's fingers sticking one from each in a small skin,and the other two into a pouch at his belt.He then removed both of their arms and stuffed them into the dead man's back pack and shouldered it.
Carrying the woman as he might a child he began walking,his cloak off,now revealing a very feline looking face,complete with black fur covering his it. He had a scar on his left cheek than ran just above his left eye,both eyes were a beautiful deep green that glinted with a hard edge.
He knew he had only an hour,maybe two to get to Ebsen before the sun set or he would be dead,and so would the woman,so he gritted his teeth and began running with everything he had.

[VemarielImbelinde]

Shiaz walked down the creepy sand-covered steps down into the main room of drunkards, hunters and all manner of scared farmers and civilians too frightened to make it past the doors of the tavern. In the corner of the building was his 'old friend' and the other slavers talking amongst themselves. Shiaz carried his head high as he descended down the stairs with a mild look of disdain. After all his position as a healer and a mage was considerable. His ability for enchantment also afforded him wealth. His wards and protective charms were some of the most powerful in the village. But such abilities had their price. The lines in his skin and cracks in his hardened flesh which was dry and hard from his long life in the desert sun and the permanent scowl on his face from the hard life that accompanied a long life in this hell hole. How long ago had it been since this same man had come in his youth hoping to heal the land of it's sickness and grief? This shell was all that was left of that faithful cleric of light. Now he was sick of their endless pleas for this healing and that charm. They were nothing but parasites to him always demanding more and more but he took his position faithfully sitting at his reserved table with his assistants waiting. Another night he'd sit through and heal those fortunate few that survive the run indoors.

Meanwhile upstairs Aiobhin looks across the room at a growing white crystal shard. She casts a quick spell and identifies it as the scryer. If he thought she'd stay here quietly so he could use her to raise some undead guy he was wrong. She struggled to uplift her shackled hands and a faint orange aura surrounded the crystal. She managed to move it off the table and under the cloth. If he wanted to scry he'd see nothing but black. She concentrated on door lock fumblign through a few simply alteration spells to unlock it. Simple enough. She locked and unlocked the door several times. She was trying to concentrate her mind enough on the lock so she might be able to improve enough to unlock her chains. Open...lock...Open...lock...Open...lock....

Her sister looked at her but neither of the sibling said a word. They knew her well enough. The fluttering on her eye lids told them she was trying to conjure something up. Still Eirlys worried that if anyone walked up the hallway they might see the lock unlocking and re-locking itself. Thus curiosity might worsen their dilemma. She prayed to whichever deity would listen. They had to find a way out of this hell they'd found themselves in.

Aoibhin continued with her procedure until she memorized the inlay of the lock. Her concentration shifted to the chains around her wrists. She sensed out her lock and it's complexities. First cast....*click*......second cast... *click* Her eye brows flickered but her eyes remained closed.Third cast....*click* she took a breath as her concentration fumbled but her determination remained as she reminded herself that her siblings' lives were at stake. Fourth cast... *click-click-snap* The shackles were slack on her wrists. She smiled and opened her icey blue eyes. Looking between her siblings she pressed her finger to her lips and slipped her chains off quietly as she could manage. Crawling to the door and opening it she looked back. She'd be back for them...she first had to see what she could do to get them all out of here without Shiaz finding them. She pulled up her cowl to cover her face and looked down the row of doors. Maybe one of the tenants had something useful. Casting a Detect Life Spell she watched for the purple smokey columns. Looking in an empty room she opened the lock and slid in quietly to see what little trinkets the occupant might have and if it was empty...no harm in seeing what this dump had to offer.

[towers]

Cain dazed in and out of sleep as he sat alone in the living room. But his mind was far away from that isolated chair in the small hut; it was off finding the biggest treasure ever buried under dirt. After weeks for searching for it, all the blood sweat and tears he put into raiding tombs finally paid off! He is celebrated for his achievement when he returned to his hometown of Ebsen as he buys everyone old enough drinks at the inn. Cain would finally be able to by the biggest house on the main road. There was no way he was going to allow his sister and her baby to stay that horse stable her husband calls a house.

A smile formed on Cains face as he continued to daydream of riches; unaware that someone was watching him from the kitchen. “What dreams are to blame for that smile on your face little brother? Thinking of foreign women? You’re such a pervert.” Shawna chuckled as she walked into the room with her hand over her swollen belly. Cain nearly fell off his small wooden chair. “Great gods, you startled me Shy. What are you doing up? I just saw your ape of a husband waddle to the bedroom.” The young man said as he trying to quickly straighten up. “No no, I’ll do that.” He told his sister when she tried to help him. “You’re pregnant, I’ll do that.”

Shawna didn’t argue; instead, she sat down on her designated rocking chair and sighed. “I’m tired of people telling me I’m pregnant; like I didn’t know. Look at me; it looks like I ate Derek.” She said in a defeated voice. “Maybe just half of him, He’s a pretty big guy.” Cain replied. Shy laughed at her brothers’ joke, but the sound of the strong winds banging at the window shutters stole her attention. “The baby is restless tonight.” She said as she rubbed her stomach. “It must be that sandstorm.”

“Yeah, it sounds like it’s reaching the t-.” Cain attempted small talk. “Derek told me you were looking into stealing artifacts from tombs.” His sister interrupted him. “Please don’t tell me you are serious.”

Cain sat up on his chair and glanced at Shy. “Well we'll just be a guide for the real robbers and only receive a small part of the cut. I know the location of all the tombs and caves within twenty miles of here. Not a lot of people can say the same. We probably won’t even go into the tombs.” He assured her. Shy still looked concerned “But what about Lord Maelgwyr tomb? That pl-”

“I know.” Cain cut her off before she could finish her warning. “I won’t be going anywhere near that place.” He told her. He was half sincere, only a large enough purse would be able to persuade him otherwise, but nobody he knew had that kind of money. “I’m not stupid you know Shy.”

“I know, I know. I just worry about you sometimes. And when are you going to start looking for a wife?” Shy asked in a concerned voice. Cain stood up and withheld his anger. “You’re not my mother so stop acting like it!” He said as headed towards the door. “I’ll be at the Tavern till morning. Hope you have a good night.” Cain wrapped his sand scarf around his head and bolted out the front door; leaving his pregnant sister alone in her living room.
For a scrawny guy, Cain sure could hold his own in a sandstorm. It had already hit that part of town pretty bad, but the tavern wasn’t too far and Cain didn’t need to see where he was going; He knew the way to the bar better than most. Besides, Cain suffered through worst when he wondered the desert wasteland alone those few years back. Those were hard times, but now, there’s a glass of mead waiting for him at the inn. Cain staggered inside and quickly shut the door behind him.

“Not even the sands from hell could stop you from getting a drink can they Cain?” one of the bar patron shouted from across the unusually crowded pub loud laughter could be heard from the local drunks . “Sir, I have seen the sands of Hell and came face to face with the devil himself. In fact, that bugger bought me a drink and stole my camel.” Cain joked as he reached a bar stool. “I’ll have my regular.” He told the man behind the counter.

[Machubi-Uniki]

Onostazia slowly regained consciousness, everything around her was somewhat fuzzy, and there was an echo. She could feel a pressure on her leg, as though something was holding it tightly. She came to imediately when she heard the orphan's quiet whimper. She looked around and saw the orphan; he had stopped the bleeding and had his arms wrapped around her leg. She tapped the orphan lightly and he looked up at her. She froze, caught in the child's gaze. His eyes were enchanting, a color she had never seen in Ebsen, a blue so icy they were almost white. Blinking she managed to release herself from the orphan's icy stare.

The first thing she needed to do was close her wound; blood, she knew, attracted the demons. She coaxed the boy off her leg and attempted to stand up, trying hard to avoid moving her leg and cause it to bleed again. She was successful. Limping, or rather hoping on one foot she made her way over to her small fireplace that she used for cooking her meals. The fire was still running from the dinner she had eaten hours ago, but was slowly dying. She picked up some grass and twigs and threw them in; the fire raged back to life as the grass and twigs were burnt to ash. Shifting on her heel she picked up a kitchen knife, she gently and carfully put the blade in the fire.

She looked around the room looking for something soft and managed to see a small wrap used to cover ones mouth. Looking at the orphan she said quietly and gently, "Would you please bring that to me?" Onostazia pointed at the wrap and the orphan nodded. He grabbed the cloth and scampered over to give it to her. "Thank you." she said and smiled. She shook the sand out of it and then rolled it up. Onostazia swallowed, put the rolled up cloth in her mouth, and bit down hard. She turned back to the fire; the blade was now glowing with a red, burgundy color. She reached in and carfuly grabbed the hilt of the blade and pulled it out.

Onostazia's eyes were already tearing up in preperation of what she was about to do. She sat down on the floor and slowly brought the blade closer to the open wounds on her leg. She took her other hand and pushed the sides of the slash together. Placing the blade down on the first gash she whimpered loudly, her jaw clenched harder and harder and a steady stream of tears flowed from her eyes. She could hear the orphan in the back ground whimpering. Taking the blade off her leg she could see where the skin had been burnt back together again. It had worked, there was no longer any blood emitting from the gash. She did this again and again untill all the wounds had been closed; when she came to the last one tears no longer came because her eyes had become dry.

[towers]

Shy stared at the door for a few moments before finally looking way. Her brother is so reckless; he acts like nothing can hurt him, like nothing he does hurts anyone else. Shawna had to fight back the tears forming in her eyes. She hated how this pregnancy affected her. Just then a noise from the kitchen startled her; Derek shuffled through the door leading from their bedroom. “Shawna? What are you doing out here? You should be in bed, you’re pregnant.” He said as he managed to find an oil lamp on the kitchen table.

“Cain went out in the sand storm, I think I upset him.” Shy told her husband in a calm but injured voice. “That blockhead just needs to grow up.” Derek shrugged off as he sat next to Shy. “How are you feeling?” He asked in a concerned voice.

Shy smiled as she looked at her husband. “The baby it trying to escape from me again.” She’s restless tonight.” Derek smiled something he hasn’t done all day; he wasn’t sure he was able to ever smile again, but there was something about his wife that made him happy. “Shy, I have something to tell you. I was going to wait until the morning to tell you but I can’t wait that long, it’s too painful.” He spoke with great sorrow and remorse in his voice. Shy was instantly worried. “What is it?” she pleaded; dreading his reply.

“Mr. Tramsol, my boss- Today at work...” Derek was having difficulty saying the worlds. “I got released from work today.” He confessed. “My boss gave the job to his new son-in-law. Dickless prick… I’m sorry. He said there was no need for an extra hand on his yam farm. He paid me for my work and gave me some extra for the baby. I think it could last us a few month. Fucking bastard.” Derek struggled to hold his anger and sadness.

Shy couldn’t hold it in any more. Tears ran down her face like the early rains of the summer. Her voice wept and her breathing became heavy. Derek hugged her tightly. “What are we going to do now?” Shy asked through the crying. “I’ll figure something out. Come. Let’s go to bed.” Derek said as he helped his pregnant wife up and walked her through the kitchen.

[MilkHoney]

The oldest man smacked the root in his mouth, softening it for his weak gums. The dust was picking up on the road, lightening his dark skin and adding grit to his eyes. What did it matter to him? The same dust was the floor of every hut, the bed of the yam fields, in the folds of his wrinkled skin. A little more wouldn’t make a difference. A greenfoot took the main way, and the oldest man watched him. Foreigners were foolish, ignorant or arrogant, to be unfearful of demons. When the greenfoot bowed to the demoness, Simon hissed, spraying droplets of spittle and chewed root. The respect granted to the demoness was revolting. But the censure of an old man was worth nothing anymore. Still, the stranger had best find another place to shelter from the storm: demons did not repay kindness shown, and such amicable behavior toward a child-eater, even one as tame as Kejhwa, would bar the doors against him in this town. The creature with a crocodile grin flashed his teeth and took off after the greenfoot. Would it receive a bow too?

When she sat beside him, he lost expression once more, going slack jawed and staring off. Eyes had the milky blue creeping near, and though he was not blind, he couldn’t see the demoness when she was so near. At her greeting, he turned his head to watch the mouth of an alley, expecting the scampering of children fleeing from one danger to another, something worthy of amusing a demon, something a demoness might want a good view of. “Do not pretend at caring, demon, it is unnatural.” Simon had little interest in Kejhwa, believing she didn’t possess the cruelty nor the kindness to kill him. “And do not speak my name, you make it filthy by your infernal tongue!” Spittle flew; he seemed unable to help it.

The wind slammed sand up into his face, forcing sand into his mouth, nose and eyes. Squinting, racked by painful hacking, and barely able to gain breath, Simon raised his frail arms to protect himself from the sudden assault. The sandstorm must have gained ground without him noticing. “Leave me alone, horned bitch! You –hrckk! ca! cakk!- brought this storm didn’t you! Curse upon you!”

The storm cut through the thatched roof of a hut, and screams erupted into the thick air as the family cowered within. Simon scrambled to his feet, robe thrashing around him as he staggered. Blindly, he moved, seeking his own hut. It was close, he knew, but sand was everywhere and it spun him about, making distance and direction meaningless. He would not shame his wife by succumbing to the sandstorm when he’d weathered through so many in his lifetime: he’d died like everyone else did in this cursed town, at the hands of a demon.

[Antartique]

Kejhwa blinked at Simon once, twice, startled by his shout. Sure, the man wasn't precisely nice, specially not with her, but the very least he could do was greet properly. After all, she sometimes took it on herself to take care of the children of town, and those children grew into adults who, at the very least, respected her. Simon... well, he had gone bitter in the last years.

Not all people saw her as a demon. Sometimes she was just called Aunt Kew, sometimes 'she-devil' or horned bitch (like Simon often did). Hunters themselves were quite surprised when they came into town and found her playing with children or helping people with their chores. Mingling with humans was way more interesting than just vanishing every day and doing nothing, then coming back at night. Humans were always different.

"Ah well. I was looking for food wasn't I..." Sighing, she stood up and headed for the tavern/pub. If she was lucky, Onostazia would be there. If she wasn't... well it would be fun enough. Their reactions at seeing her go inside were interesting enough. Besides, it would be better to get inside somewhere, the sands were beginning to quicken.

So she walked inside, wrapping her tail around her waist like a weird belt. If it wasn't for it and her horns, she would look perfectly human. She liked the reaction her horns brough, though, as she walked to the bar and sat down on a stool. A few seconds later the chattering returned, most people used to her.

"Hello. Give me food?" Such a request usually didn't work at all, but she had ways to get it anyways.

~-*-~

Alaxhir had gotten lost. It wasn't really much news, after all he had horrible sense of directions. So where was he? He decided it was time to ask someone. So he knocked on the closest door and waited for it to open. "Excuse me, may I ask where the closest inn is?"

(Whose door is that, it belongs to the one who answers to this post first. Sorry for the shortness)

[Machubi-Uniki]

Onostazia had finally gathered enough of her inner strength to move from the chair she sat in to get herself a bandage. Every move of her leg hurt and everytime her dress rubbed against the burn she gasped in pain. By the time she had gotten the bandages she was shivering and her leg was throbbing. She also had gathered a numbing ointment with she applied, she applied it and began to feel her eyes water. After applying it she wrapped her leg loosely with the bandage and stood. The ointment was taking effect and she only limped slightly when she walked, she hoped it wouldn't be too noticable.

As she finished she heard a rap on the door. She turned and saw the young boy scamper his way to the door, she made a dash after the boy staggering the whole way. She caught the boy before he could open it and then she heard a man's voice call out, "Excuse me, may I ask where the closest inn is?" Onostazia gulped, it sounded like a human, but was she willing to take the chance. There were demons that looked almost human, the demoness who sometimes showed up at her pub was proof of that. She walked up to the door, and reached towards the handle. Opening it only and inch, just incase she needed to close it quickly, she glanced at the man in her doorway.

He carried a silver cane, which led Onostazia to believe he was a scholar. Although he looked awfully young for that kind of profession, but even so she opened the door wider so that the man would be able to hear her answer. The wind blew her sand colored hair around her face as she answered the man's question, "The closest inn is about four buildings down the street and then to your left. I would suggest you hurry on your way."