In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 570):

The Master of Arms listens to Brennan carefully while his guards and other agents swarm over the place, though none are so bold as to touch Jack's remains.

"Yes, we are currently looking for the priest, but he has conveniently vanished."

The Master of Arms allows these words to linger in the lamplight for some time, gauging your reaction.

"Ducktown thanks you for your assistance, as does, I suspect, the Inquisition."

He directs an aid to help Brennan acquire the things he asks for.

"We are in your debt, and I pray that this night sees an end to our towns sorrows."

He leans closer to Brennan, whispering so only he can hear.


All are startled by a sudden sound from Titus: a raspy gasping breath.

In reply to GM (msg # 571):

The gasp turns into a wheeze, turns into a laugh and then a hacking cough.

Here lies Titus Fastbender... murdered by a demon returned by his own recognizance.

He smiles a bloody smile at Brennan, Ciryl and the master at arms.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 572):

"Yes, you are indeed fortunate," the Master of Arms notes slowly.

OOC: Titus' Aura did fade while he was down, but never completely left his body.  Additionally, Titus' abdomen, visible through the rents in his armor and clothes, is horribly scarred, but his wounds seem to have been healed.

"What how?" Ciryl falters for a moment to glance at Titus's risen form before returning to his work, "Well don't move you idiot, you're injured."

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 574):

No, no... he waves off the help.

I'm fine.  Takes more than that to kill me

He adds grunting.  He removes the armor to show his muscular frame, with large puckered scars where he was rent by the demon.  He smiles at Brennan.

Remember that thing I told you about bloodless right?

He sits on the edge of the counter and dangles his feet as if checking to make sure they work.

So what happened while I was out?  Sorry about that.  Really, really wanted to get the last shot in on that asshole.  I mean nobody likes him.

"Didn't take more a minute ago," Ciryl mutters but doesn't pay Titus any more mind.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 576):

The Inquisitor continues to bleed.

In reply to Inquisitor (msg # 577):


Having met with no resistance regarding the sword, Brennan stashes it carefully among his things along with his sample of demon dust and walks over to Titus.

"Welcome back," he murmurs to Titus. "I'm glad you will not be forcing me to pull your back out of whatever dream awaits you after all. Though we will be having a conversation about this later. In great detail."

He pats Titus's shoulder in a friendly way, then walks over toward where Cyril is working on the Inquisitor.

"Not to interrupt, but is there anything you need in the way of assistance?"

This message was deleted by the player at 13:12, Tue 16 July 2019.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 578):

Titus smiles easily.

I am also glad that it wasn't necessary.

A shadow crosses his face briefly as he beckons Brennan over

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 580):

"An genuine miracle if you have one," Ciryl replies to Brennan.  Eventually he sighs, "Demons and dead people coming back to life," he mutters, "This has all gotten far too strange far too fast."  There is a shift in how he works and a slight shift in his expression as determination slips to resignation.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 582):

"Miracles are not beyond me," Brennan replies, "Though my methods are typically anathema to those of his persuasion. I am not even certain it would work."

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 583):

The Master of Arms nods and shakes Brennan's hand roughly before turning back to his soldiers and issuing orders to calm the people and how best to resume the search for the priest.

They stay out of your way.


Ciryl works his magic, stopping up a large rend in the chest and removing the helmet to reveal a pale woman in her late twenties with shaved head and mouth pocked by blisters.

Ciryl administers something and her eyes flutter open.

In reply to GM (msg # 584):

As the inquisitor is coming to Titus takes his chain maille and leaves the area.

I'm going to see about getting this fixed, packing us up and getting some sleep.  Not much I can do here, you've got this.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:00, Wed 17 July 2019.

"Inquisitor," Ciryl speaks softly but quickly as the woman's eyes open, "You're gravely inured, I don't know if I can save you.  We've slain the demon, its body crumbled to almost nothing, is there anything more needed to be done with it?  You said reinforcements were coming in days, do you think they have the means to save you or... or is there anything you'd like done to see you to the next dream?"

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 586):

The Inquisitor's eyes move in and out of focus.


Show me the daemon.

You notice that although her voice is less muffled without the helmet, it is no more emotive, even this close to death.

Ciryl helps her to turn her head in the correct direction.  She blinks at it for some time.

We have done well.

She licks cracked lips, blood seeping from one corner of her mouth.

Will you stay, Brennan, and await escort to the citadel?

In reply to Inquisitor (msg # 587):

Titus will do Titus things.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 588):

"I'm a law-abiding man," Brennan says quietly, drawing near and trying very hard to keep the swagger from his tone. "We have been asked to leave this town immediately, and I just wouldn't want to upset our hosts..."

He allows himself the slightest grin, but it fades as he considers the seriousness of the woman's expression. Brennan sighs and crouches near enough to make conversation reasonably comfortable, all things considered.

"Give me a reason to comply. Something beyond the threat of violence if I fail to do so," Brennan says, firmly but not unkindly. "I am not an ally of Baal. Surely this is clear by now? I have removed witches from their covens and broken the spell of those among the Chosen who have seen fit to abuse their gifts and make a mockery of the First Men. I am not an enemy of the Inquisition. Or rather, I would not be, if you would do me the courtesy of reciprocity."

Brennan closes his eyes for a moment and smiles weakly.

"It's all a muddled mess, isn't it? The First Men. The Haunts. The Dreams. But I have seen a path forward. A light in the darkness, or a patch of shade in the sunlight. There are answers in Losthelm -- answers we may need in the days to come. Tell me why I should forsake them, and I swear to give your words the weight and consideration they deserve."

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 589):

If you do not stay, you will be hunted.  If your goals are truly of import, the citadel will assist you.

In reply to Inquisitor (msg # 590):

The inquisitor makes some desperate noises, throat working violently before more blood splatters out of her mouth.

Talking seems to be becoming more difficult.

You are not our enemey yet, Brennan.  We wish... to help...

Another pause to work blood from her throat.

Citadel can aid...

In reply to Inquisitor (msg # 591):

"It certainly could," Brennan murmurs. "But I rather doubt it will."

He looks to Cyril.

"Is there nothing more we can do for her?"

"In the best care I don't know if she can survive these wounds.  I don't have what I need to make the best medicine.  I don't think I could spend the months necessary to treat her if I could.  The best she could hope for is that the inquisition is more able than I to care for their own, and even then only if she survives the days it will take them to arrive," Ciryl answers solemnly.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 593):

The Inquisitor seems to be working her throat, lips parting slightly to allow blood to seep down one corner.  She is speaking but it is too quiet to hear.

Brennan and Ciryl lean forward to attempt to make out her words.

Even in the darkness, Brennan's sharp eyes make out the movement of a sharp curve, and he leans quickly back, pressing a forearm across Ciryl to get them both out of range.

The Inquisitor splutters, then drops the needled bulb from her hand.  Her breath slows and becomes more raspy.  She is once again unconscious.

OOC: The Master of Arms will leave you alone for only a few moments more.  You must decide what you are doing with the Inquisitor, if you are picking her pockets, etc, and how to make your exit.

Ciryl reaches forward and picks up the dropped item.  He twists it in his hand as if examining the exterior might inform him on its contents, then without a word he straightens one of the inquisitor’s arms and plunges the needle into a vein before squeezing the bulb.