DCC DotSK: Act 1-3

Ty cocks his head. It's hard to make out over Broegan's roaring and Aldric's raving, but...

"Excuse me, young Master Tocs," the elf says. "If you would tarry here a moment, I'll be back to discuss this matter further. With a pair of coppers for you to rub together, if you're a lucky lad." He pauses, then adds, "Enjoy the wine." As if such a thing were possible.

With surprising dexterity for a blind man, Tyravasiel-Llir makes his way past the throng to Anora's side. "There are riders outside the door," he murmurs. "You may wish to consider how you will comport yourself when they encounter this mob. And when this mob tells them how it became a mob."

Anora sees it as she steps out of Broegan's way. His white-knuckle grip on his axe, the fury and the determination in his eyes. And none of that in the villagers gathered here inside the inn. She's cowed them into releasing the man, but to accompany him into the dark woods, against the wishes of the Jarl, and into the teeth -- perhaps literally -- of this demon wolf? Not a one looked to want any part of that.

But before the woman -- or the innkeeper, for that matter -- can do more than realize Haverson might be alone in this dangerous endeavor, here comes Aldric, and Dufgal behind him with his reeking buckets of scraps and offal. The haggard priest, who is at turns a man who mumbles only to himself, or someone who shouts and throws his arms wide to command attention, is very much doing the latter now, and all eyes turn to him. He screams about the moon, and about the dark god Shul, naming him -- or her, depending on the capricious whim of that powerful being -- plainly. It's a bold proclamation, though one followed by the man's beseeching of his own goddess.

She does not listen as Aldric chants and shakes, does not answer as he calls for her help.

Wide eyes and confused looks wash over the priest, as Ty slips towards Anora and Haverson curses at the erupting chaos. Turning, the big man heads for the door, having no time for the pathetic carnival that's on display.

Aldric continues his chanting from atop the table, although he is keenly aware that the spell should have happened by now. He really amps it up to compensate for his perfmance issues - speaking in tongues, eyes rolling back into his head, and enough curse words to make a sailor blush.

So fixated is he on his task that he is unaware of any other commontion or happenings in his vicinity.

"No doubt this Ru will pour more poison into the Jarl’s ear. Perhaps they’ll be satisfied in the knowledge that this man will buy the village another night." she says with a shrug, as if she could predict the odd thinking of the people here.

She turns then, as Aldric enters the room. Immediately, a robed sleeve is held covering the bottom half of her face. Her eyes go wide with shock, as the man seems to throw off the shackles of sanity for a moment.

"This man you’ve thrown in with is making himself a prime candidate for sacrifice." she mutters to Ty with a raised eyebrow, as Aldric drones on like a mad man.

Dufgal remembers some very dramatic priests that he had seen over the years that had traveled through his home town, but he had never seen anything like what Aldric was doing. His jaw slacked and his eyes widened watching the cleric of the Water Witch flail and wail to no avail. It was quite the spectacle that Dufgal literally forgot that this was an attempt to make divine contact. It seemed that this performance was the end goal. It was magnificent. He felt the cold fire in his bosom and knew that he was in the presence of power.

"Speaking of Sylle Ru," Ty answers Anora. He observes Aldric's histrionics through his blindfold and smiles beatifically. "To deepen your entertainment, I have procured a boy--" the elf gestures at Wee Tocs, who stands behind the bar with his bottle of wine-- "who claims that the Jarl's Seer himself commands the demon hound. I was about to inquire further when you tried to start your riot, and Father Aldric began to do... whatever it is that he is doing."

"To what end?" Anora asks, not letting the thought show on her face. Of course she had considered such a thing. And if she hadn’t, she would give them impression that she had…

"Eyes off that fool! Come with me, ye bastards! You'll all be next soon enough, meat in that thing's gullet! Let's put a stop to it!" Broegan shouts at the crowd as they leer and gape at Aldric's contortions and tongues.

When no one moves to join him, he shakes his axe, then bellows, "Bah!" and is gone -- rushing through the door and out into the night.

"Are you alright?" a man asks Aldric as he starts practically frothing at the mouth, desperate to channel the Sea Queen's power.

"Do he look alright?" says an old woman who is shaking her head at the tremoring priest.

Anora crosses to the door. Her ears are trained on Ty, her eyes on what would develop outside, and her nose on the fresh air; a mercy after witnessing the slop Mad Aldric had presented to the dispirited townspeople.

Ty shrugs. "Why do humans do anything?" he answers Anora. A question for the ages. "Perhaps you could satisfy your curiosity by asking the boy, who..."

But the blue wizardess is already wandering off, to the door out of which Innkeeper Broegan has passed, probably to his gruesome death. The elf watches her for a moment. Given the spectacle that Aldric is making of himself, Ty offers little pretense that he cannot see the woman perfectly well through his blindfold. Then he shrugs again and ambles back to join Wee Tocs behind the bar.

Dufgal simply pours out the nasty buckets on the tables in front of the frenzied affair. Not sure what is going on nor what is required of him next, he just stands there with empty buckets in hand.

Aldric continues his religious ceremony, but suddenly he goes stiff as a plank, and many heartbeats pass until a damp spot forms on the front of his trousers, and a small puddle begins to form at his feet...

Oh fuck...

Pandemonium reigns inside the Wolf-Spear, and Dufgal's dumping of rotten food and Aldric's public pissing is the last straw, the final insult that sets the crowd to motion. Shouts of anger and outrage go up as many hands pull the terrified priest down from on high, down to the floor where fists and heels begin to pelt him.

"He prays to false gods!" one man screeches.

Another, red-faced, is right in Aldric's face. "Sinner! Father Beacom is right! The Hound's come to punish us for our vile vices, our wicked and impious ways! This man embodies all that is wrong with Hirot! The Hound will come!"

"HAAAWWWW! He pissed himself!" a child jeers, pointing and nearly collapsing from laughter.

In that noisome confusion, Dufgal and Ty see Wee Tocs take his leave. He slips through an open doorway into a back hall, but not before also taking Ty's wine and nicking some oblivious villager's purse.

Anora, for her part, is too distracted with what's going on outside to be bothered with the fate of the cleric. The heavy door has a sliding panel at eye-level that those inside can use to spy on those out; as she does so, the magician glimpses Broegan darting into an alley moments before a half dozen horses come thundering up the way. Several carry on past the inn, into the town's square, but three peel off and reign their steaming mounts to a stop at the front of the inn. A trio of armed and armored Thegns, Anora knows immediately, and she sees them dismount and make like they are about to enter the building.

Dufgal moves himself in between Aldric and as many villagers as he can, simply repeating,
"’e’s doin’ ‘is best. ‘e really is"

Feeling like she was skating on thin ice, Anora ponders for a quick moment on whether she should step outside and head off the guard, or not.

These were men without compunction when it came to the roundabout murder of their own, to say nothing of a rival magic user that got on the wrong side of their Sylle Ru.

She folds her robes around her blade, ensuring that the weapon was hidden, and then steps aside, into a space that would be hidden from sight, should the door open.

If nothing else, these men might put an end to the villager’s attack on Mad Aldric.

Aldric begins profusely sweating, unstoppably. Except, instead of sweat, it is rainwater coming through his pores and beading on his skin.

"Pelagia has made her displeasure known to all!" Aldric cries out, the water pouring down his skin and soaking through his clothes. "She has denied us the fruits of her watery kingdom because of the town's complicity in feeding the Moon Hound! Her salvation will require greater commitment." He flings his arms wide, dripping all over the inn's floor.

He has no idea why Pelagia has denied his request, honestly, but he figures this statement makes him look less like an idiot. And, the the water pouring out of his pores nicely obscures his recent urine stain. But underneath, he is terrified. I have offended Pelagia! I must put things back right!

As he approaches the bar, Ty catches sight of Wee Tocs slipping through another doorway into a back hall. The elf makes a face. He figured that a human child would eat his own liver for two coppers, yet here is the lad absconding, and their conversation unfinished. Perhaps Tocs sets a higher price upon his time. Or perhaps...

Tyravasiel glances back toward the main door, where Anora the Blue lurks, and thinks of the riders beyond it. Perhaps Wee Tocs knows of another way outside, and chose to avail himself of it when the tumult grew too great.

Perhaps Wee Tocs has the right idea.

Whistling softly, Ty sidles through the doorway after the human boy.

IN THE MAIN ROOM OF THE WOLF-SPEAR (ALDRIC, ANORA, DUFGAL)

When big Dufgal begins interfering, and especially when Pelagia (or perhaps one of her anemone minions, who pays attention to such mortal matters) makes her displeasure so viscerally known, the ruckus immediately ceases. The crowd recoils from the suddenly soaked man as though he was covered in poison spines, tripping and fumbling over themselves, shouting out their fears and ludicrous accusations.

Anora, secreted in the corner, hears the scuff of boots on the doorstep, then that heavy portal shudders and is throw wide open, revealing three of the Jarl's strong men.

"It is done! The girl has--" the first man through the door proclaims, before the rest of his words twist and die in his mouth. Behind him come two others: a bald, heavily tattooed man and a larger, broad-shouldered brute wearing a top knot and wielding a large axe.

"What is this?" one of the men asks, his voice low and almost a hiss as he tries to make sense of seeing a small mob ringing one of the strangers -- who is lank-haired and drenched to the bone, as though he'd been caught in some freak downpour.

Top-knot looks less troubled by the chaos. "The Jarl says everyone is to stay put until we hear the Hound bay, as we do on these nights!"

"Whatever is transpiring here, cease!" the man known to the townsfolk as Thegn Haedrik bellows. "And where is Broegan Haverson? And the other two travelers, the woman and the blind beggar?"

IN THE BACK OF THE WOLF-SPEAR (TY)

In the hallway just off the common room where tensions are now rising further, Tyravasiel-Llir glimpses what he believes is Wee Tocs' shadow as the boy flits down the corridor and around a corner. There are narrow servant's stairs climbing to an upper floor, -- separate from the broader ones in the common room that patrons use to ascend to their private rooms. There are several open doors, which a few glances reveal to be dormitories, rooms where four or six people could bunk together.

The corridor is dimly-lit as only a pair of oil-burning lamps at its two ends work to hold back the encroaching black of the night. Ty hears two sounds at the same time as he cocks his head... raised voices and less general din from the common room, and the sound of a latch being worked down the hall and around the corner -- where the elf believed he saw Tocs disappear...