Sardoth groans as he shifts his head slightly, very hungover.
Oh Lith that hurts. . . he thinks, knowing already he was in jail without opening his eyes. There were 4 others in the cell with him, far as he could tell. Slowly, he opens his eyes and gets up.
(Maybe Sutechi could be disgused as one of the guards to get them all out?)
Arcturus opened one eye as the giant in the cell with them stirred and clambered to his feet. The man was big, and Arcturus could tell he was used to the cell, which was never a good sign.
The Alban's Ale had worn off a while ago, and Arcturus had been trying to rest since. He'd been in a sleep trance for a bit now, but one of his cellmates kept snarling in his sleep, and it was putting Arcturus on edge. But making the first move in a situation like this was never smart.
So he closed his eye again, remaining completely still, cross legged on the ground, and waited.
Bane had poked his nose into Sardoth's face, curiously inspecting the man. When the man stirred, he backed up, his right ear twitching. How does a hellhound like him end up being apprehended and imprisoned? Excellent question! How does a creature that cannot get drunk become hungover? A laced beverage. What happens when a hellhound consumes a laced beverage? Accidental killings. "Good morning, sleepy head! How did your sleep go? Are you ready to shine? Because they won't be able to keep me in here for long!" A faint stench of blood surrounded the hound as he growled at another in the cell with him, already irritated by the others. He grinned as he returned his gaze to Sardoth. "No one can plan for the arrival of a hellhound." Bane couldn't stand being in close quarters, especially with others. He desperately wanted to escape and roam free; after all, he was used to getting away scot-free. For a big tough dog from hell, damn he was hella claustrophobic.
He then turned to face Arcturus. For a moment, the man appeared to be dead. "I notice you're awake. Get up now! You're taking up far too much room!" Bane wasn't sleeping, but he was snarling. This was the person he was at odds with. He kept an eye on movement outside the cell, poking Arcturus in the face with the tip of his boot. He adjusted his ears in order to hear any important conversations. "Get up! You're being annoying. To me at least." Bane's eyes were a color between their normal brown onyx and red. He was getting mad. And a hell dog displaying any other emotion than happy could be possibly dangerous.
(Shrug Sardoth could easily break out if he wanted, but yeah, that'd help make it a bit expeditious.)
Sardoth grins as the elf in the cell eyes him warily.
"Don't worry lad. I won't kill ya." he says, his voice filling the cell just as easily as he did, the deep, craggy notes of his voice jovial and kind.
Looking at the dog, he lifts it by the scruff of its neck.
"Shut up."
Arcturus's face didn't move; the skin didn't even look like someone had poked it, and it felt oddly solid.
However, he felt the ward get poked, and opened the same eye to look up at the hellhound making waaay too much noise.
He didn't move at all as the hound made his demands, but the annoyance was definitely mutual.
If he touches me again, this cell is going to get much louder he thought to himself.
He closed his eye again and too a deep breath as the big man took charge of the situation.
Somebody was going to get hurt.
And it wasn't going to be him.
Nix didn’t get drunk. They never drank before, never planned on it. A drunken human must have knocked them out. Or perhaps, they had gotten curious, as they tend to do, and stole some rum only to be caught in the act.
Truth be told, Nix didn’t remember. It didn’t yet occur to them that was evidence in and of itself of being drunk. Their small body and little experience with the stuff surely made them bad at holding their liquor.
First they smelled the bodies, the heat and the musk they carried. Then came the voices, the scraping voices against their ears. Nix opened their cat-like eyes, irked and grumpy, and watched the larger bodies shift and speak to each other before scrambling away. Feeling no evidence of hangover (do goblins get hangovers?) they immediately began searching the two humans, Elf, and hellhound for valuables.
Arcturus hadn't noticed the goblin scurrying around, ruffling through belongings, but he did realize it when the little creature tried to pick his pockets. Luckily, his wards were still active and kept the goblin from getting into his pockets, so Arcturus wasn't bothered, but the others might not be so patient.
(goblins might get hangovers, but ??? Your call)
(lol even the possibility of them being drunk is in question at the moment, so who knows. Nix doesn’t know, and neither do I ahah)
(I'm not sure. Sardoth, the behemoth he is, can drain at least two barrels of Iltruvi Ale - which is nearly 100% alcohol - in a night. Half my characters can rival him in that regard, while a further fourth can barely manage rum. The last fourth don't even drink, XD. So, in my world, goblins do get shitfaced and end up with hangovers. That's my world, at least. However, when it comes to other people's worlds, I don't make an assumption like that unless I'm familiar with that world.)
Sardoth lifts the goblin in his other hand after it feels the goblin rummaging, looking right at it.
"Not a wise idea, lad. Not a wise idea at all." he chuckles.
Bane nearly kicked Arcturus in the head, but Sardoth had picked up the scrappy hound by the collar of his jacket. "Set me down! I'm not some cute little puppy you can pick up!" As he squirmed against the man's grip, the tip of his boots scraped against the ground. He snarled, and a steady burst of scarlet replaced the brown onyx and slice of blue in his iris. Bane swung his body, gaining leverage from the only part of his feet that touched the ground. He opened his mouth, fangs dripping with the blood that had previously filled his mouth. Bane attempted to bite Sardoth in the shoulder. The shoulder connected to the arm and hand that tightly gripped Bane. And straight for the nerve bundle too. Meanwhile, Bane had missed the small goblin attempting to steal something valuable from him. He was too preoccupied with Sardoth. Fortunately for Bane, all the dangerous items on his person were taken. That was probably an unlucky sight for Nix.
Sardoth sighs and gently deposits the goblin near his feet, then slams Bane against the ceiling with enough force to knock the wind out of the dog, not even blinking at his attempt to intimidate him.
"To me, you are a yapping little shithead." he replies with a laugh.
Yes, Nix was quite disappointed, though not surprised. It soon came to their attention that they were in a prison cell, and prisoners were not afforded the luxury of keeping much personal, shiny belongings. Or, they were like the Elf, who apparently had set up protections against such thieves as them.
Their irk only increased when they were manhandled by the large human man. Their large ears twitched, and their tail swayed back in forth, as if in preparation for attack. But then, Nix felt something, or rather, did not feel something. When they looked, they found that their precious knife had been taken. A wave of anger and loss rushed through them, stronger than they thought. Nix wiggled and squirmed in the man’s grip, trying to get away. He only struggled further when they felt the hellhound’s hot breath, and hissed in fear and anger.
When the man let them go, they scrambled to a corner, before spotting a girl, still out of it. The little goblin crept to her and sniffed, but then ambled away. It seemed pointless now. They just wanted their knife back.
Arcturus sighed heavily at the commotion, and murmured something in Elvish. The air in the room immediately felt heavier, the sensation similar to being covered in wet cotton. He opened his eyes and stood up.
"Everybody calm down. This cell is small enough without everyone trying to be the alpha male." His face was stony, set in a calm expression, but his voice carried the tinge of frustration, and his fingers were twitching like he was spoiling for a fight. "We can kill each other or we can all get out of here and see sunset tonight."
He stepped over to the door, taking a look out into the hallway, and hissed over his shoulder "That means quit manhandling, biting, and picking pockets, before the guards come and I have to start stabbing people."
(I forgot to mention one glaring flaw of his: he's proud. To the point where he'd give the Sin of Pride a run for his money.)
Sardoth raises an eyebrow and lets Bane fall to the ground in a heap, seemingly uneffected by the elf's magic.
"There's no contest for 'alpha male', since I'm obviously the alpha anyways." he replies. "And if you try to stab me, you will find your sister in my bed and a dagger in your side."
"But I do believe trouble has already come for us." he adds.
(I mean, anyone 7 feet tall is bound to be a little cocky ;) )
Nahar's Hooves… Arcturus exhaled again, keeping his rising irritation in check. "Sure, big fella. Whatever you say." He wasn't really sure what magic he had cast, he'd been swearing under his breath and it had just kind of happened, but it seemed to be calming people. Maybe not the big one, but he'd at least let go of the hellhound, so that was good.
Bane's back slammed against the ceiling with a crack, followed by a thud as his body rushed back down to the ground. He lay motionless, gulping in air and briefly closing his eyes. Static filled his mind, drowning out his own breathing. It just was a small, feral outrage, but it was an outrage nonetheless. The static became unbearable as it grew louder. Arcturus' hiss cut through the static, giving the hellhound some relief. Bane got to his knees, spitting out blood as it dripped from his lip. His father would advise him to retaliate, to kill those who had wronged him, but he never did. When he opened his eyes, the red faded quickly, returning his eyes to their natural color. He pushed his thick, black hair away from his face. "Fine." He grumbled. "I'll be quiet, not because I respect you, but because I want to see the burning sun. And to flee from my father's grasp." Bane huffed and crawled over to sit against a wall, turning his head away from Arcturus. But then his gaze was drawn to Sardoth. Instead, Bane looked up at the ceiling. It appeared that an elf's powerful voice could even tame a hellhound.
(Bane has a history of befriending elves in other RP's I've done. And getting thrown against walls lol)
"See?" Arcturus turned to look over his shoulder at the big man, and gestured at the hellhound. "A literal hellhound, and he's being sensible about this." He glanced at Bane, his eyes neutral, noted the blood, then turned back to the window. "Let's see if we can spill more of the guards' blood than our own."
The noise of footsteps and rowdy voices echoed out in the hallway.
(True. Very true.)
(Then Bane should get along fine with the group, lol. Because I'm sure he'd love to be slammed into more walls.)
Sardoth yawns, then goes to the cell door and taps on a passing guards shoulder. He mutters something to the guard, who nods and unlocks the door for him. Sardoth turns back to the others, winks, and shuts the cell again, completely ignoring the elf's words.
"I'll be back. And when I get back, I'll have food." he grins, then strides off out of view.
Arcturus had started to form weapons, expecting a fight, when the door had latched again. He froze, staring at Sardoth as he walked away, his hands raised in a what-the-heck gesture. You've got to be kidding me…. Finally he rolled his eyes and plopped down next to the hound. He pulled a small herb out of his pocket and held it out. "Here. Chew that. It should fix your lip. And the bruising on your back." He glanced around at the other occupants of the cell, checking they were all still breathing and showing signs of life.
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