New World

The bartender breathed a sigh of relief, wiping beads of sweat off his brow. "That was a close call, kid..." he narrowed his eyes and took a proper look at Rizzo. "Can' say I do...I don't recognise yer accent though lil fella. Y'from up north or somethin'?"

---

Outside, unbeknownst to anyone in the area, a trio of figures had their gaze fixed intently on the inn. "Err...you sure that was the guy, boss?" came a grouchy male voice. "'E just looks like a homeless rat to me...what's so special about him?"

"How'm I s'posed ta know?" replied a female voice, with a strong accent that sounds somewhat southern-american. "But that creepy caped guy is payin' us 40 gold coins fer this. I say we do it..."

She opened her palm and looked at the odd little device that she held. It was a shiny black disc, bearing the design of a reverse pentagram, etched in milky white colouring.

"I d-dunno boss..." came a third voice, a nervous, stuttering male voice. "Those things are evil...w-what if it comes after us too?!"

The woman huffed. "We'll be fine, I'm here! We break it and run...y'all ready?"

"You're the boss, boss..." sighed the first voice.

"Right...here goes nothin'..." the woman swallowed nervously, as she took hold of both sides of the disc with each hand, preparing to snap it in two. "...Now!"

Rizzo paused to think about his answer to the bartender's question for a moment. "Sure..." he said. "Up North." He pondered for a couple of moments more, wondering how to word his next question: "But coming from.. Up North, I have no idea how I managed to get all the way uhm, down here.. I woke up in a dumpster a couple of streets away and..Well; where am I, exactly? Do people often randomly wake up here like this?" He looked at the bartender quizically as if suspecting he were in on this somehow.

As for the strange goings-on outside, Rizzo was too engrossed in his mission to find out where he was to notice or even hear, in spite of his rather large ears.

Last edited by Rizzo on Sun Apr 01, 2012 11:28 pm, edited 1 time in total.

"Can' say they do, kid!" the man shook his head and shrugged. "That musta been one heck of a party last night. Yer in Éiawind City, way down South."

He took a moment to look at Rizzo more carefully. Even a simple bartender like himself could tell the weasel was hiding something. He wasn't a very good liar. "Y'got money? I'd be careful makin' yer way back home, the monsters 'round here've been gettin' pretty riled up lately. Reckon somethin's in the air, a real big storm comin' soon, I'll wager."

He glanced over at the newspaper that sat on the bar. "In fact, i read about a group of adventurers who went 'n' visited the sewers a few days ago. 'Aven't been heard from since..."

Rizzo shook his head and turned out his pockets; just white fabric, no money. It hit him then that he didn't have any means of buying food or drink, and it deepened his growing worry all the more.

He tilted his head at the bartender: "Dodgy goings on, hmm..?" Rizzo scratched at the back of his ears nervously: "Anything that could... Awaken a dormant curse?"

Rizzo's voice was shaky on those last two words; he didn't like what he was hearing.

The man laughed. "I don't think so kid, that's just a bunch of superstition. Ain't no such thing as curses."

Meanwhile, the ring of a doorbell was heard as the door to outside opened, a man entering into the pub. He looked like a soldier, covered from the shoulders down in armour plating and chainmail. A scabbard containing a sword hung from his waist, and his footsteps were heavy from all his gear.

The bartender glanced over at him and smiled a bit. "How ye doin' Eric? Slackin' off patrol already?"

Eric, a tall, lean white tiger with bright red eyes, returned the smile. "Shut your mouth and gimme the usual. Éiawind's safe thanks to me you know!"

"Yeah yeah...thanks to yer General that is~" the bartender turned around to prepare a drink for the soldier. As he did so, he glanced back at Rizzo. "Anyway fella, been nice talkin' to ye but I got work to do. Good luck out there, aight?"

Not seeing what else he could do, Rizzo reluctantly and wordlessly left the warmth of the bar to go back into the street, the bartender seeming occupied with his customers. What the Hell was he supposed to do now?

Sighing, he found himself another backalley to sit in, making sure that nobody was around. The ground was wet and uneven; pretty uncomfortable to sit on. He unclipped his trusty Swiss army knife from his oversized pants and cut away the legs until they were short enough to reach only just above his feet. He then poked about 10 extra notches into his belt and tightened it up all the way. He looked down and smiled, admiring his innovative handiwork; at least he had a pair of pants now!

As he left the backalley without the inconvenience of only having one hand free, he began to run on all fours to somewhere where he might be able to find some information. The bright morning sun had intensified, and it was getting rather hot and humid outside, with a spring dampness hanging in the air.

After a while of searching through the still mostly empty streets, he realised it was rather hopeless. People weren't going to be able to tell him whether or not this was "another dimension"; they'd think he was crazy! So, he headed back to the Black Bull. He crept in through the door tentatively, not wanting to be an annoyance to the barkeep, who seemed to have gotten a few more customers since the hour or so that Rizzo had been wandering around in his confused daze. He crawled up onto the bar and tapped the bald fellow on the shoulder: "Ahh..Sorry to bother you again. That black fox that came in before. What was his name?"

Rizzo could've sworn he'd seen the man before. If he was who he thought he was, he might be his only connection to the outside world.

Last edited by Rizzo on Sun Apr 01, 2012 11:30 pm, edited 1 time in total.

There was just one problem with Rizzo's plan. The bartender? He was gone. The soldier and the rest of the customers? Gone...the pub was shrouded in an eery silence, the only sound being that of his own breathing, and the faint hustle and bustle from outside as the street began to fill up with the daily pedestrians.

What was that? A fluttering sound from inside the pantry behind the bar. The creaking and groaning of old wood greeted the weasel's ears as the pantry's door slowly swung open just a bit, as if the air were moving around the building. It was dark inside; evidently no windows beyond. Could they all be hiding in there, playing some immature game of hide & seek?

...At least that's what he hoped would've been the case. As he entered the ominously empty room, a glib expression came onto his face and his ears drooped. He stood there dejectedly for a few moments until the creaking, groaning sounds came to his attention; his ears immediately pricked up and his heart raced. Maybe the Mafia had come for him?! Panicking, he scrambled over the bar on all fours, knocking glasses off the counter clumsily as he gracelessly fell behind it.

The cowering whimp of a weasel slid underneath a beer keg and looked up towards the pantry door; he could only just see it from his vantage point, but he kept his eyes focused on it unwaveringly nonetheless. His heart was pounding in his ears now; how could everyone disappear so quickly?! And who were the foreboding noises in the pantry being produced by?! He didn't want to find out, but he knew he might sooner or later.

(OOC: My internet was out all day. Hope you don't mind if I break the tension by rushing to catch up.)

BIC: The bar door swung open. In walked two figures. One was a crimson furred weasel humanoid. Easily six feet tall, and a bit muscular, the weasel also had black hair and a goatee of similar color, as well as a black tail tip. He wore a pair of baggy black jeans, held on by a brown belt. Even then, they were down just enough to reveal the pair of white boxers he wore underneath. The butt of a revolver stuck out of his right pocket.

The other figure was an inch or so taller, a brown furred ferret humanoid. He was definitely a few years older then the weasel. He wore a red shirt underneath a navy blue duster, along with a black newsboy cap, black boots, and dark gray pants.

The two were laughing about something, though the emptiness of the bar caused them to stop in their tracks. Not noticing Rizzo, the ferret looked around the room.

"The hell is everyone?" he said.

"We've been gone a couple of months, the place might of closed down," the red weasel noted.

"Couldn't of, we would have received word of it," the ferret frowned, crossing his arms, "That old fraud better not of walked out on us. He sent us half way around the world to find that damn ale he wanted!"

As the two newcomers made their way inside, bringing plenty of noise and banter with them, the door flew open and a trio of flying black blurs swooped into the bar, squeaking and chittering in a panic as they dashed around the room. Two of them immediately flew passed the heads of the weasel and ferret, escaping out into the sunlight.

The third one perched itself on top of the handle of the pantry door, fluttering its wings and looking around, as if trying to collect its bearings. It was obvious that this creature was a bat of some kind, fairly large with a wingspan of about a foot long. But curiously, the creature seemed to lack any defining features. Almost like an illusion, a shadow, a silhouette distinguishable only by the acid yellow eyes that sat upon its head.

Nevertheless, despite its dark appearance, it didn't seem to be threatening. It even looked directly at the tall ferret after a moment, and sat there, motionless. It seemed to be guarding the door, warning him not to approach.

Rizzo was slightly unnerved by the creatures that suddenly flitted into the bar. A myriad of paranoid thoughts entered his brain linking these creatures to the disappearance of all the previous customers. What if these things had swooped in before and made them disappear?

He slowly peeked his head out from under the beer keg anyway, looking up at the two musteline figures: "Ahh..About that. I was in here about an hour ago, and everyone was here; so there's no way this place has closed down." He paused for a moment and pointed at the perched shadowy bat worriedly "Uhh.. Th-Those things..What are they?"

The two Mustelids ducked to avoid getting smacked by the shadowy bats. Once two of them were gone, and the third was no longer moving, the two stood up again, looking at each other, then at Rizzo.

"I don't know what exactly they are, but where they've been, there is something I can be sure of," the ferret replied, "There's a Vampire about."

The brown furred ferret reached into his coat, and pulled out an odd looking gun. It looked like a semi-automatic handgun, overall, but the cylinder in the middle was reminiscent of a revolver. He aimed at the door, and slowly started to creep forward.

Meanwhile, the red weasel strode over to Rizzo. Once close enough, he knelt down to him. "You alright little man? We should probably get you out of here."

Yellow eyes followed the ferret carefully as he strode through the door. The bat clearly wasn't approving of his actions, but at the same time he didn't seem to make any attempt to stop him.

Inside the pantry, the ferret would find...well, pretty ordinary pantry-type things. Shelves lined with food and utensils. It was fairly dark in here, the only light being that which spilled from the door to the bar area. Overall, the room wasn't noteworthy in the slightest...

...Except for one thing. In the far corner, nestled between two of the shelves, was an old dusty full-length mirror. It was wooden and ornate, and looked very victorian in nature. Even through the thick caking of dust, it was reflecting the dark room quite clearly. One thing was for sure; that mirror did not look like it belonged here at all.

While the ferret stood, the bat took off once more and made an attempt to land on his shoulder, perhaps in a last ditch effort to suggest he turn back.

Rizzo nodded quickly at the red weasel: "Uhuh! I..I'm fine." As he studied his features, he thought he might have seen him somewhere before too.. But in this universe, he could never be too sure.

When he heard that the bats were a vampire, his ears twitched.... It all made sense now; he thought he'd recognised that black fox! And he knew that the black fox he'd been thinking of was also a vampire, very gentlemanly, very upper class. He chuckled to himself a little (which would've looked pretty strange to the red weasel); the Victorian outfit seemed to fitting in retrospect.

Rizzo jumped up onto the table and pointed at the bat that was still in the room with him: "Zenith! Is that you?!" He looked at the red weasel, worrying that he might be some kind of vampire hunter or something, and waved a warding hand at him: "Don't do anything! It's cool.. It's cool."

Rizzo really hoped it was Zenith anyhow...

The ferret glanced at the bat-like creature as it landed on his shoulder. The only thing out of place in the pantry was a giant, dusty, mirror. With a Vampire in the area, the ferret had been expecting a horde of corpses in the pantry. Thankful it wasn't so, he lowered the gun and wandered towards the mirror.

Rizzo's shout brought him back out of the pantry before he could investigate. He looked at the small weasel, then at the larger gray one. "What the hell is he screaming about?"

The larger weasel shrugged, "I don't know, a second ago he said he was fine."

The ferret walked over to Rizzo, frowning a bit, "Kid, a Vampire is around, and this bar is missing its bartender, and possibly a few patrons as well. Enlighten me as to how exactly this is 'cool', as I'm tempted to alert the guard."

The bat looked over at Rizzo curiously. After taking in the weasel's appearance for a moment, it chittered to itself before spreading its wings once more and taking flight, circling over their heads once before dashing out into the sunlight.

Almost immediately, the cracking sound of glass erupted from the pantry, along with a deep, monstrous groan. A groan that began to make its way over towards the door to the bar. A faint red glow can be seen within.

Last edited by Wocky on Thu Apr 05, 2012 10:39 pm, edited 1 time in total.

As the harsh crash erupted from the pantry, Rizzo let out an animalistic squeak and scurried under his beer-keg safe haven immediately. As the voice in his head called him all manner of profane synonyms for "whimp", an idea hit him. He jumped back onto the bar and ordered the red weasel to stay put.

Then, his plan firmly cemented in his mind, he squatted down on all fours and began to sniff his way around the bar until he found a little ventilation shaft hidden away behind some of the fine furniture; shifting it out of the way, he unclipped his Swiss army knife and undid the screws on the shaft door. With that open, he shuffled into the vent and made his way up... He'd forgotten the advantages of being tiny.

It was unpleasantly hot in the vents, but he continued his crawl regardless, up and up, until he was in the shafts running along the ceiling. Scuttling along, he eventually made his way above the pantry. He just hoped that whatever that thing was in there couldn't smell or hear him up here; he doubted it, as he was a pretty quiet crawler, but maybe his sweat would give off a rather malodourous vibe... Oh well, he could escape quickly if he needed to!

With a building fear, he cautiously peeped through the vents in the ceiling to observe the possibly horrific goings-on of the pantry below. He held his breath and tensed himself to stifle any involuntary reaction to what he might see next...

Both the ferret and weasel grabbed their weapons and took aim at the doorway. The noises coming from within the pantry didn't sound very pleasant, and the red glow didn't help much either. The two were prepared to grab the smaller weasel and book it, but before they could, the little idiot took off into the vents, commanding them to stay.

"Run, or shoot?" the weasel asked.

"Let's wait and see what our new friend thinks," the ferret answered.

Rizzo would be greeted by a pretty disturbing sight. Floating about a foot off the floor, was a creature. Wait...not a creature per sé, but the mirror that had been spotted earlier.

By now you can probably guess it was no ordinary mirror - it was some kind of monster, having sprouted bony grey arms with grotesque sharp claws. The body of the mirror surrounded itself with black and red flames, creating the sinister red glow. But if you looked carefully, you would be able to see an evil-looking face reflected in the glass. A monstrous, fangy grin with glowing red eyes, like some kind of hellish demon.

The mirror monster let out another low groan, it's mouth open wide revealing a pitch black void within. It soon rounded the corner of the pantry and floated through the door into the bar room, where it spotted the weasel and ferret. Reaching out its arms like a zombie, the strange creature screeched and flew at them with its jaws open wide.

No sign of the smaller Weasel, and what ever was in the pantry had made itself known. The crimson weasel repeated his earlier query, much louder this time: "Run or shoot!?"

"Both," the ferret replied.

When the mirror rushed them, they both fired their weapons. Two shots from each gun as the two made a beeline for the exit, and out to the street.