Starsday Night in the Merrilin Arms, Port Miere Options

[Will]

Roberto Flashblade lent back on his bar stool. Neither he nor the mercenaries he had travelled with had needed to buy a drink all night. It seems the people of Port Miere were keen to appease the heroes who had delivered them from the Black Flag gang's short reign of terror.

Roberto held up the mystical bottle that his friend Fang had given him shortly before heading off. Whilst the people of the City were grateful to Fang for the help he had given them, they could not quite make out if he was an angel or devil.

Within Roberto's new bottle were many souls of heroes from a previous time. He had called upon his priestly training to converse with the spirits of some of the Heroes of old within. He discovered they seemed keen to continue to do the heroic thing, even in death. They would happily enter another vessle, and lend their strength to that, if there were such a one. Roberto placed the bottle upon his shield as he pondered on what the right thing to do would be. He then came to his decision, walked over the the shield with the bottle on top of it, popped the cork, and held the bottle up telling the souls to go off and be free.

A waitress from the Merrilin Arms then filled the bottle with ale as she passed. Roberto took a sip, leant back, and quietly dozed off, content that he had done the right thing.

Word on the street was that the Black Flag Gang had been infiltrated by powerful priests of the Destroyer, at least one of whom had recalled away to some dark temple.

Further investigations at the word of the Watch Captain indicated that many worshippers of the Destroyer had been culled that day, and a few suspicious figures had fled the City around sunset.

Many of the gang were killed in bloody battle with mercenaries, some last Starsday, Some a month back when the Dwarves of clan Earthsunder visited the City, and others a few weeks before when it seemed a powerful demonologist in the gang started summoning aquatic based demons.

Those who were left seemed to hide the Black Flags they had once worn proudly around their heads and looked for work on outgoing ships.

The businesses formerly under the thrall of the Black Flag Gang, now free, turned to their Watch Captain for guidance.

The tiger striped figure of the Paladin 'Da attracted less attention than in most places in the Empire. The Port City was used to having all kinds of exotic traveller passing through. The city Councillors had tried to pay him for his work but he had refused any form of payment offered. Even the ale that the others from the mercenary party were enjoying he had refused in favour of a jug of water.

Another of the group, a tall magely figure with hair like an autumn sunrise was sitting at the bar enjoying many an ale whilst trying to get his head round some kind of cartographers kit.

Captain Merrilin was having a busy night. It seemed that as the active member of Port Miere's council people were coming to him with all kinds of City matters. Whilst he had several flagons of ale placed before him by those discussing their concerns, he had not had the time to take a single sip.

Malcolme, one of the up and coming Knights of the Land on the other hand was enjoying a well deserved drink and down time with some of the local lasses. He had already told the barman to have any more drinks left sealed so he could place them in the knights stores. The lass Malcolm was standing closely with had spent most of the evening talking with someone that looked a bit like David Stone, though Malcolme had distracted her away to the back of the tavern.

Nursing a splitting headache and feeling somewhat drained was Tobius, ritualist of the Church of Dead Heroes and previous Stadtus of Gillenium. His ritualism had allowed the party to succeed, but his vitae was depleted from the ordeals he went through that day.

The Warden of Armastas entered the Tavern. He moved slowly, but with purpose and seeming to suck up space from around him as he moved - as though his form was overcast by something of much greater mass.

Roland of Sweethaven, man of the people, had been a lot more co operative with those of Imperial rank than rumour would have him be. He sat contently at the bar exchanging banter with the common folk of the City, who seemed to accept him as one of their own.

The talk of the front of the tavern had been how Pericollo Toppolino had been a tornado of healing, soothing his companions cuts and bruises with one hand seemingly constantly throughout the mission, whilst wielding the fabled Shield of Sirac on the other arm.

The Professor, already renowned for smiting a wrongun worshipper of the Destroyer in the same tavern last year seemed to be enjoying the local ale and company. Several scribes who worked for the Knights of Renown were talking nearby about how he has liberated one of their guildhalls from the Black Hand gang - Or sect of Destroyer priests. No one seemed sure which it was.