Author Topic: Throwing off the Inquisition  (Read 1068 times)


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Throwing off the Inquisition
« Topic Start: May 02, 2018, 03:30:55 PM »
Roleplay from Apostate   (6 minutes ago)
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Apostate cursed as the guards threw him to the ground. Begrudgingly, he picked himself up and walked to the Temple of Obeah. Scribbling his name in the Book of Names, he marched off to Avengmil.

After five hours on the road and a quick hunt he had arrived at his hut. It was near the Northern Hills, on the fringes of society. It suited him well. His position also allowed him ample opportunity to spy on the Attano Manor.

The hut, like its owner, was in a sorry state. A section of reed roof had fallen in, the hole patched with a spare tent. A weed choked garden sat by the door. Inside was a dusty, smoky mess. A pot of day old stew boiled over a campfire, a chair by it. Two tables were in the room, one for carcasses and the other stocked with old cutlery and plates. Three full kegs of beer sat upon it as well, tankards cluttered near them. The back wall had a hammock tied to it, also an extra tent. Odds and ends were littered around the hut, old books and interesting baubles. Herbs hung from the rafters amid potential spell components, items which were in reality useless to all but the wisest sages.

Apostate set the fawn carcasses upon the bloodied table, the smaller of the two he prepared the meat for the stew and set the other parts aside to be readied for the market.

He unstrapped his staff and bow from his pack, setting them by the door.

Hours later he had completed his toil. From the mouth of a hill cave hung bone chimes and scriptures made from deerskin. The skull hung morbidly above the macabre decorations. Inside, three bedrolls, discarded supplies, a crude Daimon Idol and a roaring campfire. He was pleased, this would serve as a nice distraction for his true endeavour.

Using his skill as a hunter, the disheveled former priest made his way to his hut. It would take time for the rumours of a cult base in the hills to pop up, but he was patient. Contentedly, he served himself up venison stew, his first hot meal in weeks.
Once the Daleborn family, now the Attano family.