7th Sea: the Fragments of Theus (Game Thread - Closed, Started)

[SamtheDeathclaw]

Rosemonde quickly, almost contemptuously, kicked the pistol out of his hand, then stomped on his wrist, which snapped with a dull pop. The man gasped in pain, but Rosemonde simply ground her boot into his wrist, before wordlessly plunging her main gauche into his eye. She sighed lightly. So much needless death.

She turned to the Cathay. "Well, I'm parched. Wanna go get drunk?" she said with a rueful grin before noticing his cuts. "Hmph. Looks like he got you. We might ought to find you a doctor, first, I suppose... Anyways, I'm Rosemonde Baudin, a Knight of the Order of the Rose and Cross. A pleasure to meet you, even under these, er. Circumstances." She stepped forward, away from the corpses, and bowed.

 

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

Surfan watched as the knight killed the man with a quick strike. A person like that was used to killing, Surfan predicted. When it was finally over he walked over to her with a hand on his chest to try and stop some of the bleeding although the wound on his face had already bled down to his neck. He wiped some of the blood on his face using his turban. Its red color only darkened as he blotted the blood away. Even in his bloodied state, Surfan bowed to the woman after she had bowed to him.

"Surfan Adulin. Thank you for your assistance." Surfan said then flinching in pain as he got up. It might have been a bad idea, but it was custom for him to do so not only that but the woman had also bowed so he had to show his respect. "A doctor would be nice. Do you know the way, madam?"

 

[Terratina.]

"Erasmo! There you are. Come, sit, drink something! This here is Reyes, Yvonne, and Renault."

He had hoped for each individual introduce themselves with an... individual introduction, however, Beatrice stopped that from happening. Erasmo gave a nod to each of the strangers as he sat down and poured himself some wine. A little cough escaped his mouth - the room stank of tobacco and alcohol. The priest-in-training tried to loosen up, but found that he couldn't. After all, he was sitting next to a Sorte Witch, two horse-thieves and the man with a musket. Not exactly the type of characters a priest - ordained or not - should be associating themselves with. But it was El Año Nuevo! He should be relaxing or at least enjoying the festivities. Erasmo took a sip out of his cup and tried to unwind. Afterwards, he went about answering Beatrice's question - why did she even ask? The answer itself was painfully obvious: El Año Nuevo!

"For the festivities, of course," Eramos responded, "And just a little errand, but that has been taken care of."

 

[Evrant-Knight]

"Thank you Señor." Spoke Adrianna after she slipped her swords within her dress, Garrett had to admit, he did find that a little odd; perhaps there was some secret compartments sewn into the lining of the dress. But thinking about that could wait for now, as the lady soon took Garrett's hand. "I know of a good tavern around."

They didn't have to walk long, and they soon arrived at a busy and crowded tavern, at guess there had to be at least a hundred people crammed into a space that looked fit to hold roughly half that number. Upon entering however, the barkeep somehow managed to notice them amongst the crowd, the man looked positively overjoyed, maybe him and Adrianna were acquaintances of a sort Garrett thought to himself as the man had a word with one of the serving girls, before heading over.

"Senorita du Riche; what a pleasure to see you. I'll have a table set up for you in just a moment." The barkeep said before once more becoming one with the crowd. Roughly a minute later, the barmaid from before and guided the couple upstairs. From next door, Garrett could hear the sounds of conversation, it sounded as though there were four to five people in there, a mixture of men and women; though the ruckus from downstairs made it difficult to decipher what they were talking about.

Once inside the room, the barmaid took their drinks orders, to which it was a bottle of rum that the two would share between them. After the barmaid left, it gave Garrett the chance to look around. From what he could gather, this place was a hastily converted room, possibly a bedroom given the design of the furniture. If he was to hazard a guess, the staff at this place wasn't expecting such a high volume of customers; then again, places like this were always full on El Año Nuevo.

Garrett then took the opportunity to look out the windows, and was rather surprised at the view, as it was overlooking one of the largest squares in the whole of Altamira. From up there, he could see large crowds gathering, all in anticipation for the fireworks.

"I must admit Adrianna, the barkeep, he certainly gave us one of the best views in town. With an almost clear sky, perfect view to watch the fireworks." Garrett said as he continued to look out the window, before taking a seat at the table.

"So, where did you learn to fight, cause those were some pretty impressive moves back there."

 

[SamtheDeathclaw]

"A doctor would be nice. Do you know the way, madam?" the man, who identified himself as Surfan Adulin, said. She thought for a moment.
"No, I don't know of any. I would imagine if they're anywhere, they'd be in el Paseo Largo. From what I heard, there was something of a riot there earlier. A bar fight got out of hand, or the like. Come on, then, surely there'll be one around."

She led him towards el Paseo Largo, him carrying his new sword while clutching his new cuts. They asked around for a doctor, but didn't seem to get anywhere. A few people said they'd seen a priest carrying a wounded man somewhere, but didn't know where he'd taken the man, or where he could be found. Surfan was bleeding pretty heavily at this point, and they were beginning to attract some strange glances. She stopped, and turned to him, beginning to despair.
"I don't know, Surfan Adulin. This is the only place I can really think to find one. There's normally one in the guildhall, but he was drunk last time I saw him. Merde... And all this walking can't be helping.." she looked up to the sky, beginning to despair. The city was growing quieter- time for the fireworks, she supposed.
She let out a hiss between her teeth. She wondered if he would die if they didn't find a doctor. Maybe.
She looked around, now. A tavern. A drink would be nice, but we need a doctor first. She sighed.

 

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

Surfan clutched his wounds and as the festivities slowed down so did his walking. He had lost some amount of blood at this point and his cotton shirt was stained with his blood. The knight was trying her best in obtaining a doctor but at the moment there were none. Surfan began to breath deeply, trying to stay awake as a sleepiness began to creep in. Wassif told him of this sleepiness, warning Surfan of the countless people that had been taken away in this slumber. "The last blink" Wassif would call it by as it was often the last blink a person would take before lulling to their death. Surfan fought his hardest not to fall asleep.

The knight stopped and spoke to him. It was desperation but when she was done, her eyes glanced to a nearby tavern. Then it occurred to him. He had never drank before. He was about to die and he never quite had alcohol before. Never in his travels was he ever offered a drink let alone could afford one. Perhaps now was the best time of all places.

"Then we shall have a drink, shall we?" Surfan said in a soft voice. He gave the worried knight a nervous smile. The best smile a man could give at the brink of death.

 

[SamtheDeathclaw]

"Then we shall have a drink, shall we?" the man said with a weak smile. She knew what a dying man looked like- probably better than most. He might make it with medical attention, but that didn't seem to be coming.
She sighed, and returned a strained smile.
"Into the breach, then. Hell, who knows, maybe we'll luck out and find a doctor and some sauce in the same place." she said, attempting to widen her smile. She'd already let one man die needlessly that night. She opened the door, and stepped inside, followed by Surfan.
She approached the barkeep. "We need a doctor or a priest. Failing that, get me a bottle of your strongest whiskey. Hell, get me both if you can."

 

[hiei82]

"We need a doctor or a priest. Failing that, get me a bottle of your strongest whiskey. Hell, get me both if you can." Rose said to the barkeep. It took him a moment to register what was going on. As far as he knew, there weren't any priests or fathers in the tavern, she he spun on his heel and grabbed the first strong drink he could find. "This is gonna hurt" he said, as he uncapped the bottle; ready to do what was needed.

Just as he was about to pour, Diana - the barmaid - interjected saying "There's a Father upstairs with the Vodacce woman. I'll get him." then bolted for the stairs.

Spoiler: OOC

The barmaid will either knock at the door and ask for the priest or run into him on the stairs if they know about the injured man

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"So, where did you learn to fight, cause those were some pretty impressive moves back there." Garrett asked, drawing Adrianna from her thoughts.

Without the threat of death looming overhead, she'd returned to the less-confident self and, thereby, run out of things to say. So, when Garrett chose to start the conversation, she was a good deal relieved. "I learned from my father. He's from the Soldano family so I had a very good teacher." she said, happy the conversation was on something simple. A moment passed before she realized she should probably respond with a similar inquiry. "What about you? I think I saw some Soldano techniques while you were fighting..." she said, trailing off because she wasn't sure how to end the sentence.

 

[Evrant-Knight]

"I learned from my father. He's from the Soldano family so I had a very good teacher." Adrianna said in response to the question posed by Garrett. A moment had passed before she had a question of her own. "What about you? I think I saw some Soldano techniques while you were fighting..."

"Your father? What a coincidence, I learnt Soldano fighting from my father as well. In one point of his life, he was an officer in the Castille military, but he grew tired of it, and set off to find a quiet corner of the world to live out his days. And in one such corner, was where he met my mother, in Avalon. It was actually through my mother's father that I learnt the Andrews style of swordplay."

 

[Arcanist]

"So, what about you Erasmo? Renault? What brings you two to the city?"

Renault shifted about in his chair, trying to disguise his growing sense of unease. He'd already revealed too much, in his opinion, and while they seemed rather accepting of his... profession... he doubted they'd be as friendly if they discovered he was wanted by one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in all of Theus. The Sun Emperor's reach wasn't something Renault could evade forever, and when l'Demont discovered he was still alive he'd stop at nothing to use his influence at court to fix that problem. This was a time to play his cards close to his vest - trusting a stranger, however useful, with this information could have disasterous results for the both of them.

"Ah, well, I'm in Castille because of the war, of course. Plenty of work for a man like myself. Hell, even when the war's over, there's bound to be lots of nobles with more money than decency, right?"

 

[Terratina.]

The mercenary's answer gave more reason for Erasmo to distrust the Montaigne man. It wasn't like he had much respect for that particular nation in the first place. On the other hand, the woman - Yvonne - just seemed to be another hedonist; another person that would be consumed by their vices. At least Vodacce and Castille had the Vaticine Church, and with that, nobility. 'Theus regards everyone equally.' He reminded himself before he let more of that poison, whose name was hatred, flood his mind. The cause of those mental ramblings must have been the wine. Yet another poison that brought about the worst in men and woman alike. Nevertheless, Erasmo couldn't deny its pleasant taste - rich sweetness, poisoned nectar that hung on the tongue.

A knock from the door brought the priest back to reality, "Father! There's a man downstairs who may require the last rites!"

"If you would excuse me yet again." He said to the others. Afterwards, the priest-in-training immediately set his wine glass down and bolted down the stairs, simply running past the barmaid without a second thought. And there the injured man stood, red spreading across his white cotton shirt. His red turban almost matched the colour of his blood. Next to him was a woman with reddish hair dressed in simple fare. However, there wasn't enough to take in every single detail! The man was dying! Erasmo quickly introduced himself to the man and to the woman, "I am both a priest and doctor; thought at present, my training only permits me to do so much..." It was a sad truth, but one that needed to be acknowledged, both by the patient and himself.

He turned to the tavern crowd, and with as much authority as he could muster, he shouted, "Clear a table!"

The drunken louts seemed a bit sobered by the sight of blood and did as requested. Erasmo carried the injured man over and laid him on the table, scanning the wounds on his body, ignoring that the man's blood was staining his robes, and praying that the injured man would survive. 'Cuts from a sword, no doubt. Brigands or the foolhardy Swordsman's Guild?' He thought to himself as nervous hands fumbled through the satchel. They fished out carefully folded bandages and tightened them around the various cuts, in an attempt to stop the bleeding. By the end of Erasmo's bandaging frenzy, the man was covered in white, red and pink. The priest-in-training wiped his brow with an almost purple sleeve and looked upon his work. There was clearly more that could be done...

"There is a Francescan shelter nearby; he can get better help there. But I need your help." Was Erasmo's appeal to the woman.

 

[SamtheDeathclaw]

Rosemonde looked, bemused, at the barkeep, who prepared to sterilize Surfan with the whiskey.
"Well, I meant to drink, but that works too." she said with a slight, tight smile. A barmaid mentioned a priest in the inn, and Rose's smile widened. Wandering priests were typically trained as doctors as well. Theus would not present them with a priest in an inn, a strange happening, but not have the priest know any medicine. Surely not.

And indeed, he soon charged down the stairs, looking around wildly. He spotted Rose and Surfan and hurried over. He began to speak rapidly.
"I am both a priest and doctor; thought at present, my training only permits me to do so much..." he said, already beginning to inspect Surfan.
"It is Theus' will. You will not fail." she said with a simple nod. "He would not bring you to us, only to have you fail."

"Clear a table!" the priest shouted, and the drunk patrons obliged. The young priest then turned into a wound-bandaging whirlwind, covering all his major cuts quickly and efficiently, if somewhat shakily. He was a good doctor, even if he was obviously inexperienced. She genuinely had no doubt that Surfan would make it. Maybe with a few more scars, but make it nonetheless.

"There is a Francescan shelter nearby; he can get better help there. But I need your help." the priest said when he was done, turning to Rose. She raised an eyebrow, and smiled.
"He's lost a lot of blood, but there isn't a lot to be done for it besides let him rest. His wounds simply needed proficient dressing, I would think." She stepped closer, and leaned over Surfan. He'd been woozy from bloodloss, but not quite unconscious. "Surfan? How are you feeling? Can you walk?"

 

[Terratina.]

"He's lost a lot of blood, but there isn't a lot to be done for it besides let him rest. His wounds simply needed proficient dressing, I would think."

Erasmo sighed and wiped his brow with his sleeve again, only to cover his face. It never ceased to surprise at how people profess their faith in Theus and by association, faith in him - a truly humbling experience. However, soon enough, the curtain of cloth parted and he was there, looking in the woman's eyes again. He couldn't help but notice the scar, it curled slightly as she smiled. Both the smile and the scar spoke of experience; experience in battle and of recovering from an injury.

While the two case were surely not exactly the same, Erasmo chose to trust the woman and their advice. What a fool he must appear to her! Then again, that last statement was the panic talking, or so he told himself.

That was the routine: bandage the injured person up and cart him or her off to the more experienced priests in the shelters. Perhaps for once, he wouldn't have to do that again? The priest-in-training sat himself down, and calmed himself. Erasmo told himself that the worst was over. As long as the man had a drop of blood in his veins, Theus willing, he would survive. That was another thing the priest-in-training told himself. His mind's sanity clearly hinged on beliefs, mantras and the structure they brought.

"You are right." Erasmo said as he tilted his head upwards, "I apologise for being so rash. Though it is comforting to see a faithful person among the crowd. My thanks." With that, there was naught to do but wait...

 

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

Entering the tavern was a blur as the blood-loss began to sink in. He was pulled to a table and laid out as a father or a doctor treated his wounds. The man was quick and efficient but was time was nothing but a haze to Surfan at that point. His eyes were fixed above to the wooden ceilings and occasionally to the bar-goers who probably weren't expecting such a spectacle to occur in their time of drunken merriment. Still, Surfan just focused on staying awake at that point. He thought of the fiery sun, the scorching deserts and the flames of his burning home. He blinked trying to forget such a memory but he found out that the painful memory kept him awake.

Surfan felt warmth where there was once coldness. He could feel the embers dance on his skin once more as if he were back in his memory once more. The smoke choked him. The fires burned him. His sister's screams shook him.

Then the woman from earlier leaned over. "Surfan? How are you feeling? Can you walk?"

"I-I've had worse, madam." Surfan mumbled. Mustering his strength, he sat up but immediately felt the pain. He grabbed his chest wound then felt bandages instead of raw flesh. He looked around to see who had helped him and he saw the Father.

"Thank you, sir. I would bow but I do not think my wounds would allow it." Surfan said.

 

[SamtheDeathclaw]

Rosemonde stepped back as Surfan began to sit up. She grinned at him, as he tried to wave away his injuries.
The priest- she caught a sight of black under his blue, so a Deacon, if she remembered correctly- began to apologize for... Something. She simply smiled at him, and shook her head.
"Deacon, he would not have lived if not for you. There is no rashness in caution, and there is no need for apology." she said simply.
Surfan began to thank the man, grateful for the life-saving. A very polite duelist. Delightful.
She turned back to Surfan, and grinned.
"So, how about that drink?" she chuckled dryly. She then sighed. "Actually, I have a fool of a charge to be tracking down. It's getting late." she turned back to the priest, and said, in jest, "Actually, I don't suppose you've seen a Castillan with a ridiculous mustache? Probably in the company of less than reputable folks? You priests have an ear to the ground, I'm told." She smiled her tight smile. If there was one sort Reyes would never go near, it was a priest.

 

[Terratina.]

The wait was not long at all, and the man quickly rose and said, "Thank you, sir. I would bow but I do not think my wounds would allow it."

Erasmo had to suppress a sigh as the the man sat up; surely he was little further away from death, however pride could weigh him down with hubris and pull him back to the brink just as swiftly as his recovery. Erasmo stood up and addressed the man who would shrug off such wounds. Nothing but a bit of manly pride, still, if left unchecked, it could grow and spread. If he had said the same to that Benefactine monk many years, well the priest-in-training doubted whether he would have survived... Nevertheless, he tore himself away from such thoughts - what happened, happened, after all. Erasmo dragged himself to a standing position, using the table to push himself up and addressed the man. "Then thank me with a full recovery; rest."

"Deacon, he would not have lived if not for you. There is no rashness in caution, and there is no need for apology... Actually, I don't suppose you've seen a Castillan with a ridiculous mustache?"

She had to the one person who recognised the black under the blue! That's what kept his faith in Theus, the way everything seemed to fit together, if your mind was sharp enough to see it. With that, a smile soon settled onto his face. And then her question hit him: a Castillan with a ridiculous mustache? Did she mean Reyes? Erasmo briefly wondered on how the two could be connected, and the only way of finding out available to him was to simply answer, follow the woman upstairs and watch what would happen. However, the injured man needed someone to watch over him. Naturally, it was Erasmo's duty. Nevertheless, reminded of Theus and the great puzzle that was Théah, he decided to simply stay there and gave an answer.

"There is a person of that description upstairs, the room first on the left. And yes, he is with people one would say are less than reputable folk." He answered, "Is his name Reyes, by any chance?"

 

[Texas Joker 52]

~Beatrice~​

As Erasmo answered, Beatrice took the time to take the bottle of whiskey that Diana had brought in, and poured herself a rather tall glass, forgoing ice entirely.

"For the festivities, of course, and just a little errand, but that has been taken care of.".

At that, she smiled, taking a small sip before glancing over at Renault and his reply. She couldn't help but notice him shift a little in his seat, possibly out of discomfort. Someone who probably didn't like talking about himself. Or simply didn't like having so much company. She couldn't exactly tell.

"Ah, well, I'm in Castille because of the war, of course. Plenty of work for a man like myself. Hell, even when the war's over, there's bound to be lots of nobles with more money than decency, right?".

Beatrice couldn't help but give him a wry laugh.

"Oh, believe me, in Vodacce, that's a given. I imagine it may not be quite so bad in other regions, but I've been wrong before.", she said blandly.

It was shortly after she said that that there was a knock on the door.

"Father! There's a man downstairs who may require the last rites!".

She had to fight to stay seated, even as Erasmo shoved himself out of his seat and rushed out with a quick, offhand apology. At the moment, there really wasn't anything she could do. Sorte could only do so much, and she wasn't about to perform out in the open, not with the threat of Inquisition right there in the tavern. But, she had a feeling that Erasmo knew what he was doing, and whoever he worked on would either pull through, or would be too far gone for anyone's help.

As she took another long sip of whiskey, she could only hope it was the former.

 

[SamtheDeathclaw]

"Is his name Reyes, by any chance?"
Rosemonde simply stared at the deacon, wide-eyed.
"Theus is toying with his pawns." she sighed, then broke out in a wide grin. "Yes, his name is Reyes. But he's... Relatively safe. Hopefully. None of his companions looked like Inquisitors, I hope?" She sighed again.
"Either way, I will stay here with Surfan. You can return to your drinks, if you'd like, deacon. Ah! Introductions, first, I suppose. Rosemonde Baudin, Knight of the Order of the Rose and Cross, at your service." She bowed once more. "I am in your debt for your help tonight. If me or mine could assist you in any way, I would be more than happy to help."

 

[Terratina.]

She finished her sighing and ended with a smile,"...I am in your debt for your help tonight. If me or mine could assist you in any way, I would be more than happy to help."

In an instant, she recognised the name, and stretched that scar once more with a wide grin. It was there, Erasmo was sure of the it, the same of feeling of pieces clicking into place. That was obvious, anyone with faith in Theus would be feeling that way, from any country or any background. However, the mention of drinks brought Erasmo back to reality as he was reminded of those he had left behind. Of course... He had to return to that group, and apologise again for running off. It wasn't that he held anything against them, just the dangers of being with such a collection of nefarious characters were... repulsive.

Speaking of nefarious characters, Rosemonde had asked a curious question about Inquisitors. Was Reye another user of Sorcery? First Beatrice, now Reyes - who was next? Still, Erasmo would reveal nothing that night, as a show of good faith to Rosemonde and as part of his promise to Beatrice. Nevertheless, the night would end, like many others. At least he had that to look forward to. Erasmo hesitantly considered asking Rosemonde something, but her name revealed to him that she was from Montaigne and no matter how pious she was, he simply couldn't let a countrywoman of Montaigne have that information.

However all his face showed was warm kindness as he echoed her bow, "Erasmo Esposito, Deacon of the Francescan Order. Reyes is safe, none appear to be Inquisitors. I only wish that you have a good evening."

With that, the priest-training disappeared up the stairs and returned to the room where Beatrice and company were in - the first room on the left, just as he had remembered and just as he had told Rosemonde. He opened the door meekily, sat down and resumed drinking from his wine glass as though nothing had happened. He took a chance and interrupted whatever conversations were going on between them and tapped his wine glass lightly, "My apologies, it seems that many are in need of my assistance tonight. I must seem like a sneak who always runs off somewhere to do one thing or another. I assume you that assumption is simply the product of happenstance; Theus has been keeping me busy tonight, however that matter has been dealt with."

Erasmo paused and addressed Reyes directly, "Permit me to take a second to notify you of one thing, Signor Reyes: there is a woman by the name of Rosemonde Baudin who has been asking about you downstairs..."

 

[Ruedyn]

The assassin acted shifty (as was kind of expected, most in his profession were. At least the ones who lived long), while the Priest managed to spark his interest with his "Errand". Such things could he perhaps be Inquisition? Before any chance at asking, the barmaid barged in, reporting a devoted alcoholic who wanted to die in his favorite tavern. Or at least Reyes thought, but what did he truly know?

"Father! There's a man downstairs who may require the last rites!"

Nobody but the priest in training truly reacted, how disappointing. Nobody here valued the human life? Perhaps Beatrice, but in the end she did nothing but lapse into silence. It wasn't too long before the silence was broken, luckily, by Erasmo's return.

"Permit me to take a second to notify you of one thing, Signor Reyes: there is a woman by the name of Rosemonde Baudin who has been asking about you downstairs..."

Reyes raised an eyebrow, getting up from his chair and almost bowling the priest over as he jogged through the door. First an injured person, then Rose. Was she responsible or- no, the barmaid said man. Did she wander in? Questions, pointless when he could see the answer, making a turn off the stairs and looking around. Luckily, very few redheads in Castille. He approached her with a relieved smile,

"Good to see you're alright, Rose."