SMITEfire Tavern

all4 felt the knife scraching him though he didnt flinch. he grabbed the knife out of the thin air though no one noticed and looked at it. he thanked the juggler for the present as the juggler left.

all4 smiled and laughed saying to him self "i have always liked the jugglers style. there was a message on that knife. nothing see able until very small gaps were filled with blood spelling out a word on one side and another one on the other side.

all4 knew that this would have to be settled when the juggler returned. in the mean time all4 shifted his attention to the warrior and the mage. all4 already spotted the spell tome's of the Co7 in posetion of this mage. he also saw that the warrior finally figured that out. all4 said to him self "took them long enough" as he walked over to the mage.

and for the first time he flipped his hat back so his upper facial features could be seen. a face with a scare over his right eye, blue gray eye's, black hair and a friendly smile.

he started up a confersation with the mage.

OOC: sub this will get interesting.

OOC: sir your up.

The warrior sees the stranger he was sitting with go to speak with the mage. Looks like the two share a common enemy, though his pilgrimage from Egypt has not yet shown the reason. As he thought that, a chill spread throughout the tavern. Not much, but noticeable to the warrior. Knowing more than most the power of thought, he figured that both stranger and mage were thinking the same thing, somewhere along the line of revenge.

He looked out the window, where the sun was setting. He wondered if he could complete what he came here for, and return back to egypt, before his father was finally overpowered. A week? Less? a single utterance of the True Name would bring his father crashing down back to earth, and anarchy would ensue. (OOC: ...like what egypt is like now. Holy ****, didn't even see that.) He could sense the mantle close by, around this town. It shouldn't be too hard to complete the quest.

As the warrior was lost in thought, a guy from the bar stood up and walked toward him. He was big and burly, like a Norse. His face meant battle.

OOC: Oh boy. I used to role play like... 2 or 3 years ago. I missed to do that.


An strange shadow appeared in one wall of the Tavern. It was small, but could easily be seen. The shadow became a portal, that a small, but strange creature leaved of it. The monster started to lurk around, hiding it from the humans found in the location. Such creature was quiet and mysterious. It was similar to a snake. But filled with bone ornaments, with a wide jaw, releasing some kind of dark powers from it.

The monster was amazed with the sword of one human. He thought to take it for himself, but proceeded to lurk in the Tavern, specting to no one see such monster.




OOC: The ''Dark Jaw'' is neutral. He is not aggressive, neither passive. He'll react differently according to each person.

OOC: You better not take my sword, DJ! :P

He had, in the course of events that had befallen within the Tavern, stood above, on the upper floor. He had preferred not to join in on the action, but rather decided with little thought to simply watch; watching was what he did best. It was through watching that he had come upon what he was searching for.

All had passed as was foretold. For it was by the Moderators, those who held the power to see as well as alter the fate of this world, that he had come upon the knowledge of what was to take place here tonight. The juggler of knives, the warrior, the mage, and the spellbook. All were to find themselves at this place at this very time.

He gave a slight chuckle at the juggler when his box was almost stolen. He knew that no wealth would come to this man, at least not in the upcoming events that were to transpire.

He had the knowledge that he needed, and upon recalling the past events he sat down upon the old, rotting chair he had occupied for some time this day. Upon ensuring that his black cloak was not snagged upon a nail or some other protruding object (for the Tavern was not the most well-known within the realm and as such, did not see much upkeep) began to finish the cake in which he had purchased some time ago. The cake, composed of the poorest quality, was commonly known as "cheesecake".

He reached into his cloak's inner pocket, and pulled out a most queer object. He ensured that no wandering eye had come upon sight of this object, although most tended to keep to themselves in such a place. Nevertheless, it was with the utmost secrecy that he opened the object, now appearing to be a notebook of sorts. It was composed of a worn leather cover, and beheld an insignia which was rarely seen within these parts of the realm; said insignia was not meant to be seen by the common folk.

Upon opening the notebook, he found the nearest open page and upon it wrote one line. It was all that was needed. He then stood once more, and made his way out of the building. It was but only after a second of leaving the Tavern that he had disappeared, as though he had dissipated into the cold chill of the night.

He had written one line:

"JararoNatsu of the Editors, reporting. They have gathered. The battle will soon commence".

---

From where he had stood outside the tavern, the juggler took notice of a wisp of shadow that rode the wind. His trained eye allowed for the notice of the most instant of occurrences, and upon seeing what appeared to be little more than dust he made a mental account, and then proceeded onward, wherever he might have chosen to go.

Few could have imagined what would occur next.

Sir felt a chill in the air... something was here that was not of this realm...

Sir noticed the book was hanging out of his robe. He quickly hid it again. He could feel the power in the tome, although he felt the magics of the Skaven were as distasteful as their politics that had made getting it so easy. It had been simple enough: The apprentice who had stolen it was hardly worthy of it. Why she wanted it was beyond him. But it was none of his concern. He was to perform these services and he would be finished of thi-

Sir felt something pervasive. A man in the corner had drew his eye. He was writing something down... in a very powerful tome. He could feel its power from all the way across the tavern. He wasn't there very long, but his presence was a cause of great concern.

Him, the voice said, drawing his attention to another. It was the man who had caused the commotion with the juggler soon before he had left, (and he had a feeling he may have had something to do with the men outside). Why, he had no idea of that either. But now the man was coming to speak to him... This could be bad. A favor from the Skaven was no small thing, even if it was a business best done with caution. But if he was the one...

"Can I help you somehow?" he asked the dark figure, smoothing out his emerald robe...
EDIT: OOC: Wow, quad-ninja'd

As the juggler closed the tavern door, he subconsciously brushed his shoulder at a drop of rain. He stopped, and looked at the sky. While it was indeed dark, there was not a cloud in sight.

He stared at his fingers in the dim lighting of the tavern. They looked as if they were splattered with ink.

For a few moments, he was confounded, then he realized what he had stumbled upon.

He turned around, and on the tavern's roof, he saw a small, robed figure light a match.

The juggler drew a knife, aimed, and threw.

His aim was weakened by cold and panic, but he had managed to hit the entity's wrist. It shrieked, an alien and somewhat metallic screech, and dropped the burning match.

The juggler looked on in horror.

"HEY! YOU!"

The warrior turned around; the aforementioned Norse was standing nose to nose with him. "WHADDY'A THINK YOU'RE DOING ALL THE WAY UP HERE?!?"

"A search, of which you are not needed for, though may be needed to get out of the way," the warrior stated calmly as he stood and reached for his sword.

At that moment, the cold chill wore off, and the warrior saw now that it was no thought that had provoked it, but things more sinister.

He noticed a man in the corner, with a prayer-book, belonging to the Witchhunters. The power of the prayer he was writing down right now was so powerful that the excess had played with reality itself.

The warriors mind, realizing this, snapped into clear focus, noticing anything and everything, even that of which should not have been seen, all in the tiniest fraction of time. A snake-like creature was slithering in the darkness, apparently named "Dark Jaw". A man from the Editors had walked out of the tavern, using his device to teleport to an unknown destination, but not before sending out a message on it. The Skaven tome had fallen partially out of the mages' cloak, and noticed that a page had fallen out. The knife juggler was waiting outside the tavern, waiting for revenge. And now, he notices, was no coincidence.

This was planned for him.

Unkowingly, all the others had been brought to this tavern by outside sources, without knowing why, all for this moment. The mantle was not to be taken.

When the warrior realized all of this, he stood up his full 5'11", unsheathed his sword, made a symbol with his left hand, and focused his life energy.
Now this was a battle. Now THIS, THIS is when the Speaker for Egypt appears.

OOC: damn, ninja'd.
OOC: This is going to be fun to write.

Okay. One person post, then I'll write out the fighting. That OK? alright.

*Somewhere, off within the depths of the woods and before the events that are to occur*

"What can you tell me about it?" asked the cloaked figure, their back against a moss-covered tree.

"The Dark Jaw? HE, if I might correct you, is a friend of mine. I met him in another realm, and it is through him that I obtain a considerable amount of information" JararoNatsu said. This meeting he had been looking forward to for some time. He always enjoyed showing off how much he knew.

"Interesting" said the figure, who now proceeded to examine the moss on the tree nearest them. "See to it that he does his job well. If needed, you have your Power to assist you".

JararoNatsu knew well of the power of which the figure spoke. He was one of the Editors, those who had the power to make subtle changes to the world. It was he who caused the spellbook to slip out of the mage's pocket, among many other slight changes to reality. He was known throughout the Council as the "Trickster".

"He will not fail me" he said. "He has proven to be a worthy ally for me, despite his form. He is not like those who would usually be found from his realm."

The realm he spoke of, separate of the realm in which these two spoke, was in times far away in history cursed with a shadow by a figure of pure darkness, known as the Raging Storm. Upon all of its inhabitants a form most demonic in nature was brought forth. Those of that realm, known by the few that are learned of it as "The Land of the Mystics", was closed off by those of a higher power within the universe, to prevent the spread of the shadow. Very few of that realm kept their human mentality, and were honored among the ranks of the Council as powerful allies.

"Good. I will be watching, when I can. Do not fail me, Natsu. I have spent far too long bringing forth what is to come, and I will not accept failure. Am I clear?"

"Very much so" said JararoNatsu. Upon his reassurance, the figure disappeared. He took notice that their cloak, clearly a symbol of the stature the figure held, was red.

Somewhere, in a run-down tavern, JararoNatsu knew very well what was to happen. He decided that he would very much like to sit and watch. So he, too, vanished, leaving the forest to its silence.