Krest Part 4 Final Episodes
"The Night the Darkness Came for All of Us" The party has rendezvoused back at the Witch's Hut, a small dreary Tavern. It barely has a bar, as it connects quickly in to the wall. There compartments of available room, which there are six. Two are taken. The owner. And another playing idle keys at the piano drinking the swil the Tavern Keep calls whiskey. Arnel, the Tavern Keep, keep his best bottles kept under the Book of Visitors' Shelf, it has a small tarnished plaque. It is a impressive collection he keeps hidden from the eyes of his patrons, behind a locked cupboard under the room boxes. Over the decades of rain and grave dust, caking everything in this small entry hall, there is a piano, a trellis of dying plants near the windowed wall on a marble stand, and a couch of red woven wool with a silver trimmed blue throw draped over the top of it. A small fireplace is currently lit, with embers burning, at the other end. A straw hat is nailed to the wall beside it. A banister staircase, cramps the entire area, connecting to the desk near the front of the glass wall and turn handled door, outlooking the Graveyards of Waterdeep. Hills spill over each other, colliding cemeteries from before the wars in to crypts crafted by Mason's from Baldur's Gate, each marking the end of a life. Their own story and conclusion, unlike the paths and few unmarked roads. They lead to swinging vines that have latches on to sculpted entrances of crypts forgotten by most. The winding paths lead to mortal danger or exploration of fate. The districts of the dead lay out in fron of them for miles. There are books written on this area of Waterdeep the volumes are rarely complete. The Tavern sits on the corner of a three way post, between Brillia & Sparkz Avenures. It angles directly against the south west corner from the City of Graves. The party took the short cut from the Docks through the alleys of Death's Short Cut. The sun is setting, they all sit outside on the iron-rod cafe-style tempered glass tables with matching chairs. They sip their cocktails and brews, smoking teas, blowing their lips upon the heat magically crafted from an Alechmist in Old Port on Cutters' Way. Relaxed and enjoying the moments to themselves and away from the terrors of the Slashing Seas. But then a figure crawls out from the gates of City of the Dead. It approaches the Witch's Hut. It crosses Sparks, moving quietly scrapping it's broken foot across. Another, smaller furrier one, watches from the alley next to the Witch's Hut. The Tavern Keep drops a bottle, it smashes on the floor. A silhouette now appears at the corner of the street, his feathers ruffle against the trench coat, bending his right arm in to his coat. The leather studded boots he bought for this Tapping click on the on the dented cobble avenue. Thunder battles the wind above them, clouds circling. The figure stumbles up to the curb. He cracks his head suddenly towards the tavern at the corner. A soft groan exits his throat beckoning from his empty hunry guts. Decay has taken most of them, but he still craves one thing. Brains. . . Rain falls. The silhouette pulls a fluted hand-gun from his coat aiming it at the adventurers, it's called The MBCU -Mouse Blaster Conversion Unifier-, then angles it towards the street. Fire! A zombie is on the road. It crept up from outskirts of the hollowed coffins, at the edges of the city. The bullet fires, a small mouse queewing through the air, sits gleefully on a small red pellet. Magical Weaponry is a newer smithworking of the Artisans at Tower Square. The bullet connects, busting up into pink glittering smoke. Swirls, like paint, spin around the zombie sieving through it. The arcane powers transforming it in to a mouse before their very eyes. The newly transformed mouse limps still, but just then is eaten by a stray cat, watching from the alley. It's tail hanging from the cat's mouth, walking proudly down the sidewalks of Sparkz Avenue in Waterdeep.
