Frostborn

A fiery soul is destined to feel cold. Welcome to the catacombs of ice.

Thursday, January 22, 2015

The Frailty of Desperation (Part 1)



            Having had their first attempt at sleep be interrupted, the four remaining guests of Jazmin’s Tavern decided to have another go at it. Closing their eyes was easy enough but finding sleep once they were nestled in their beds was a different story. Most of their minds were still racing from the night’s altercations. Only the Beacon was able to find a significant amount of shuteye by the time morning arrived. Her body was too exhausted, both mentally and physically to allow for any other course of action.
            The following day at the inn was quiet. Everybody eventually made their way downstairs by about midafternoon to grab a bite to eat. Conversations were kept to a minimal. No one was still quite sure what was going on, nor what would happen next. If indeed they were being stalked by a demon of some sort wouldn’t it be best to just flee the area? That was the opinion of some, but that would require venturing outside into the Frozen Abyss and enduring its elements and unknowns, not to mention having to carry the Beacon as she was in no shape to travel even moderate distances. None of that eliminated it from still being a possibility however. Another theory was that the danger had passed, that the Pestilence had destroyed the Shadow Demon’s means to possess people when she disintegrated their late innkeeper. Few could rationalize putting much hope into this theory though. If it truly was the Shadow Demon of legend they were up against it seemed unlikely he could be thwarted so easily.
            Feeling somewhat disheartened by this strange turn of events the group spent the rest of the day doing what most people would do in a situation such as this. They started looking for weapons and boarding up anything that wasn’t already boarded up, just in case their assailant came back. Seeing as the Pestilence was the most naturally gifted in combat they let her do the securing of the tavern while the Poet and the Librarian searched for the weapons. The first thing they found was the Man’s gun, which he had conveniently left on the floor. Unfortunately, it was out of bullets. Moving on they discovered Jazmin had brought some of her old adventuring gear with when she made the transition up north. Some leather armor and a blade or two were really all worth noting, not that they were complaining. It was still better than nothing. They let the Pestilence have the armor as she was really the only one who could fit into it besides the Beacon, who really didn’t need it since she wouldn’t be in the fight anyways. At least not if everything went well. Keeping the blades for themselves the Poet and Librarian continued to search but there was little to be found. Most people didn’t bring a lot of supplies with when they came to Kaltbury, mainly because those who were desperate enough to come here didn’t have anything to begin with. There were always a few exceptions of course, but they didn’t last long. They weren’t prepared for what they were getting themselves into.
            It was the same for the likes of those inside Jazmin’s Tavern. None of them were prepared when there was a sudden knock on the door. Everybody froze for a second or two before the Poet walked over to investigate. Peering through the slit of above the doorknob yet again he saw another unsettling sight. There stood the Man, waiting to be let in.

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