- Vizidel
- [SHOW]
Candles are set out on the ground, casting eery shadows around the basement's stone walls and wooden shelves. Within minutes, a few crates and barrels are curiously busted into by hungry and worried citizens, and they find some supplies amongst the storage containers. Wine, salted meat, and loaves of bread are some of the few things that are edible amongst the crates' contents, and the citizens taking refuge in the inn's basement sit on the stone floor, taking supper silently. Only a few of you speak in hushed murmurs; the rest sit preoccupied, staring off at the walls, recounting the horrific events of the day.
* * * * *
It is now night and the murmurs have grown to a hushed discussion, growing more and more heated as frustration rises and the fear in everyone's minds becomes less and less shielded. The citizens, just over a dozen of you, speak about a plan to action.
"We're going to starve if we stay here. You've already torn through most of the supplies that I've put away," the tavern owner says, his face a mixture of annoyance and fear.
A man with a bottle of wine, forcing himself to sober up speaks. "That's if we survive the night! Did you see what they did to people? They-"
"You're scaring my daughter! Please!" the mother interjects, holding on to her young daughter as she begins to bawl again.
A scantily clad woman speaks next. "We're not going out there, no matter what. We can't."
A man who lays injured in the corner clears his throat, coughing up a bit of blood. He looks to have suffered injuries to his upper torso, his tunic slashed and stained with his blood. "Somebody's going to have to," he says, his eyes dropping to the floor. "I don't think we have a choice."
The crickets are chirping outside, now, and any sounds of life are extinguished save for the occasional cry, whoop, or awful shriek you hear.
- Mechanics
- [SHOW]