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Morgan was far too bewitched to even think straight, his eyes set on her lips to take in every word from her mouth, absent mindedly repeating some of them.

"... very little... best purpose... a corpse... insulting... honour.... take care of..." mumbled Morgan pausing still and looking at the knights with a rather deadly steady look, barely flinching

"The lord knight has insulted the king, offended the governor that alone carries a charge of high treason. String him up, hang him high and make a corpse out of him... for her benefit... unless he kneels to grovel forgiveness... for his insulting wording" waved Morgan watching guards and knights scramble to do just that, right away, least the lord changed his mind and had them executed for delaying orders, which he was known to do.

If the whole kingdom had one ruthless, gutless, heartless lord who embodied cruelty and evilness that would be Sir Henry Morgan and this was bound to get a whole lot messier with the obvious rivalry between prince Merthyr and lord Morgan.

Sir Lancelot and Sir Gawain coming to restrain The Hanged Man heavy heartedly but complying to given orders, all the while Sir Percival grabbed the ropes and was adjusting the noose most slowly and reluctantly for it would be a great loss of the kingdom to loose such centered and valiant knight for sure.

"Kneel and beg mercy, from them and from her... better bruised honor than death, right?" advised Lancelot taking all the time, well aware his task was to tie the knight's wrists behind the back in preparation for the hanging whilst guard Prodius held a sack to cover The Hanged Man's head as was customary

Well, that didn't work. The Hanged Man mumbled a curse under his breath as he was forced to his knees and bound by the knights. His arms twitched in response. "Aye ... aye, please forgive me. I lost my head for a moment," he said. He wasn't a proud man in many ways, and bowed his head low. Blond hair flopped down over his shoulders. "Please, kind lord, fair lady--I overstepped my bounds. I w-would not presume to infringe on your goddess-blessed love. Release me and I shan't bother you again." He kept his eyes locked upon the floorboards demurely.

"And ... I'm not a knight," he added in a low mumble, unsure why they were insisting on calling him as such. "I am nothing."

He glanced up at Atropos and Krystalline, hoping for some kind of support. It seemed that they had little chance of swaying Morgan and Merthyr, and might be best off trying to escape into the fog while Anke was distracted. The Hanged Man just wasn't sure.

This whole situation angered her even more. Clenching her fist, she stepped forward, smoke coming out through her nostrils as she huffed out. "You can't do this," she began, looking to Morgan and Methyr. "You two are being manipulated, can't you see? You have to open your eyes!"

Krystal's plea would probably fall on deaf ears though. If push came to shove, she would kill the vampire right then and there. It seemed like the best option for now, at least.

Anke seemed amused by the situation, her red eyes glittering with joy at the scene, “But tell me, if you hang again will you live again? I would love to see a human achieve such a feat.” Anke was ferocious, that was certain; stone cold and sadistic.


Atropos had come to the front again, her sharp eyes staring hard at the vampire. She walked forward, blade in hand, and Anke turned her attention with an gleeful look, “Oh my! The little elf returns, I’m so glad you join us again darling.” Atropos stopped, biting her lips, and Anke gave a coy smirk, “See, my ability works on anyone attracted to women. Just as the men of our kind are attractive to all those who prefer men; much unlike Succubi or Incubi, who attract any and all they come across. So even a little elf with a taste for females is powerless against me.” She laughed lightly, and it was, despite her words, graceful and light, fitting of her appearance. Anke’s eyes opened slowly, and her arms opened up as well to Atropos, “Come to me, yes darling?”

The elf stared, the strain gone from her face. Now she simply looked tranced, taking a few slow steps towards Anke. Her lips curled into the faintest of grins, and though Anke hadn’t noticed (much too smug over the thought she had ensnared the woman), perhaps Krystal and The Hanged Man would see how her fingers curled on the handle of her strange blade, before moving much faster towards the vampire. The woman’s shocked expression was much faster to appear than she was to run, and she had only moved a foot back in an attempt to escape before Atropos had put her blade through her stomach.

“I don’t like women, could never fall in love with one.” The elf said calmly, “But they make good company once in a—“

The vampire let out a shrill shriek, nearly deafening, and in seconds many windows in the tavern had shattered, candles blowing out with the sudden gust of wind and toppling to the ground; a few would catch the floorboards on fire shortly, if not quickly addressed. Atropos staggered back, removing the blade as Anke curled up on the floor in the darkness, the fog beginning to pour in through the windows. The screams she made were almost animalistic; pure agony tore through her gentle voice, her hands clutching at the wound, “M-Merthyr!!!”

((OOC THM can ask for edit if too godmoddish ))

Merthyr had no sword or weapons on him so no chance or opportunity to defend the vampire from the attack nor retaliate. However, he knew some healing so he quickly dropped to his knees taking his cloak and pressing it against her wound to try to stem the flow

"Hang in there... my beloved... hang in there... just... don't go to sleep... don't leave me" wept Merthyr with trembling hands.

Morgan became pale faced and in a panicking erratic behaviour at thinking Anke dead. He opened his eyes wide grabbing The Hanged Man by the scruff of the neck and pushing him forward

"Forgiven... so long she lives... you're a knight, knights know all sorts of healing during their travels so... heal her. If she dies, so will you die but not before I execute this entire village" frowned, threatened and spat Morgan forcefully volunteering The Hanged Man to the healer position for the town clearly lacked one.

Lancelot sighed in relief at the sudden change of heart and sentencing quickly taking the rope off The Hanged Man's neck, removing the ropes from his wrists quickly so the errand wanderer could fulfil the healing task that had been appointed to him.

When Morgan was satisfied he could do nothing more for Anke he looked at Calico and the rest of the knights and barked at them

"Kill the murderer... you worthless peasants... just kill her and be rid of her once and for all" growled Morgan watching Calico swiftly take up a cutlass and make their way to Atropos

"Can we not just run out of here and make it to the castle and its treasure, before I have to kill you? Get me the gold and I will forget which direction you ran off to" prompted Blackbeard happy to cut out a deal that would suit him and her

The Hanged Man cleared his throat as Anke gently goaded him. He decided it would be a bad time to reveal that his hangings had all been by the left ankle, and not the neck--the latter would probably wind up being quite fatal. The rope, though not yet tight, still pressed against his neck, making him gulp. "Please," he said again. "My lady, have mercy ..."

He followed Atropos with his dark green eyes, watched carefully as she strode up to Anke. At first, the wanderer couldn't tell that the elf was faking, but once he saw her hand tighten on her weapon, it became clear. Even so, he was surprised that she succeeded. Bound as he was, he couldn't back her efforts--and he was nearly overcome by the sharp, piercing sound of Anke's scream. Gasping, he struggled to cover his ears, and in the chaos he was shoved forward by Morgan. His cheek hit the floorboards.

Under better circumstances, the Hanged Man would enjoy being pushed around by a man with Morgan's looks and demeanor, but not today. Today, he was wholly fed up. "I am not a knight!" he said, dumbfounded at their foolish insistence. He bore no crests of allegiance, his armor was antique and not from any known court, and he certainly didn't have a noble demeanor. But Morgan likely wasn't in the mood to hear these excuses. At least Lancelot untied him. "Nor am I a healer," he grumbled, scooting towards the fallen vampire on his knees. "But I'll do wh-what I can ..."

Then there was the matter of Atropos. Morgan seemed like the sort of man who was true to his word--if the Hanged Man abandoned Anke right now, or tried to take her prisoner, he risked the townspeople losing their lives, even though that would mean Morgan would be ruling over a village of ghosts. As the wanderer cut away Anke's dress to reveal her injury, his eyes flicked over to Krystal. A sudden thought would fill her mind: go with her. He looked back towards Atropos to indicate who he meant. Maybe he'd be able to catch up to them later.

The Hanged Man inspected the extent of the injury, not entirely sure how to treat it. He started by ripping off a piece of his white cloak to tie around her midsection. Of course ... Merthyr might take offense at this scruffy fellow pawing at his woman, even though he'd been ordered to. It was ... unseemly.

She watched as Atropos approached, immediately recognizing that the grip on her weapon was tightening. Though her reflexes weren't quick enough to try and get a hit in. The shrill scream of the vampire instantly made her hands slam on her ears, watching the windows shatter and the fog blow inside right after.

When it eventually ended, she lowered her hands. Frowning a bit at Morgan's demands for The Hanged Man, she gripped her weapon and stepped forward. Krystal didn't care if they would try and arrest her. To hell with them.

Though she did catch the look that the wanderer gave her. The half dragon forced herself to calm down, then she glanced to Atropos, taking a step back as she let the arm holding her weapon fall to her side.

Atropos scowled, grumbling an “over my dead body” which was becoming more and more likely as time passed. She stared at Blackbeard, hesitating as if checking him over, “Keep up.” And then the elf sprinted, not for a door but one of the shattered windows, diving through it cleanly and taking off towards the trees. She wasn’t exactly used to traveling in packs, nor did she really care for it to begin with, so Atropos wasn’t making much of an effort to make it easy to follow her, friend or foe.

Anke hissed, and The Hanged Man would probably notice her fangs, now sharper than ever, and it would come to mind that those of her kind were immortal under the right conditions. And while, like a human her body would make more blood, the more natural way would be to take it from someone else. Meaning she was going to be a dangerous predator shortly, if she overcame the pain of the injury.

For now, she writhed, her own fangs cutting into her lips from her biting. She probably hadn’t ever suffered such a severe wound; some of her kind could lose limbs without flinching, and it was expected with how young she seemed to be.

Merthyr was much too upset to even focus well, his visibly shaking hands and trembling arms were all the more clumsy for his eyes were clouded with tears, the perception that her life depended in his inexperienced and lacking healing abilities making him all the more distressed.

When Morgan roughly tossed The Hanged Man to the task Merthyr moved aside a little to give the man space, for once the two lords in agreement that such was for the greater good.



"Please, sir knight... do all you can to help her" mumbled Merthyr placing a soothing grip upon The Hanged Man and withdrawing shortly

He returned with fresh linen, a bowl of hot soapy water, a bucket of clean warm water, cloths to clean up the wound, a needle and thread to stitch it and whatever he found useful for treating her injury including a hot incandescent rod from the hot coals in the fire place often used to burn the wound so it stopped the bleeding.

Had prince Merthyr just fallen under a spell? or did he truly fall in love with her? It was very much hard to tell the truth of the matter for... if it had only been a bewitching spell, the prince would have snapped off it the moment he turned away to gather the utensils, would he not?

Be as it may, he wanted her healed and knew not how to help further, though he was doing his earnest to help out.

The Hanged Man watched Atropos leap out of the window and felt a pang of desire to follow her and be rid of all this mess. But he knew he stood little chance of keeping up with her swift pace, with his limp and heavy armor. He looked at Krystal again and jerked his head towards the window. Hopefully the half-dragon would be able to keep her safe, and he could find them later. They seemed to be two of the only sane people in the whole establishment!

There was still the matter of Anke. The Hanged Man wasn't very knowledgeable about vampires--he knew them to be quite resilient, but didn't know the boundaries of that ability, and he wasn't prepared to risk her dying. The wanderer held his arms towards Merthyr. "I-I need help ... kindly unbuckle my gauntlets, my liege," he said. His hands were trembling. He wasn't looking forward to tending Anke's wound when he couldn't even take off his own gauntlets.

When Krystal got that look again, she nodded in response. Now she was getting more nervous than anything. "....Yeah, okay, okay," she muttered, the words more or less to herself than anything. "Be careful around her, alright? She's dangerous. ....But you knew that already." She told The Hanged Man.

Without waiting for a response, she made her way to the window, vaulting through it and heading in the direction Atropos had gone to. "Hey! Wait for me!" The half dragon huffed out. She was going as fast as she could, but she was somehow still a little behind.

Anke was attempting to move now, the young vampire pushing herself up and hissing in pain, “I’ll kill her myself—!” She choked, before her arms gave out and she dropped to the floor, letting out a small whine of pain, “T-They won’t survive in there—“ Her voice was quiet again, eyes shut gently, her expression twisted in pain but attempting to bear a triumphant smile, “They’ve started my game and I can’t even j-join, how tragic...”


Atropos glared a bit, not keen on traveling with others; but then again, there had to be a reason these woods were so dangerous, right? It would be better to travel in a pack, for now at least...

She stopped for a moment, resting against a tree and taking in her surroundings. The fog was thick, but at least the heavy cover of the forest meant little rain could get through. She rang her hair out and wiped the water from her face, looking to Krystal once she caught up, “That Fire...were going to need it. It gets darker in here...” she glanced back to see if Blackbeard was following, and rather hoping he had just gotten lost or something. But with the treasure waiting to be found in that castle, she highly doubted any of those men would be skipping out on the chance.

Merthyr pushed everyone else back, even nudging Morgan out of the way to kneel by The Hanged Man.

"Yes of course, sir knight" agreed Merthyr stretching his arms and undoing the gauntlets quickly and expertly so, feeling out of place at having to do the chores of a common squire but biting his pride back for he would not let anyone else nearby the wounded Anke least they harmed her further.

Once he had undone and removed the gauntlets, he placed them carefully on the ground, not too far neither in the middle of the way.

"I am ready to serve, sir, tell me what needs be done" prompted Merthyr keen to help in any way, his eyes gazing at Anke amorously so

As Merthyr pulled off the Hanged Man's gauntlets, the map of ugly scars marring the traveler's arms became apparent. He no longer usually felt self conscious about his marred skin, with all its furrows and ridges of stretched scar tissue. The damage was remarkable but clearly had been aided by some kind of magical healing, or else he would have no use of his arms at all. "I'm not a knight, my liege," he grumbled. "I'm just a w-wanderer."

The Hanged Man rolled up his sleeves and flexed his trembling fingers a few times. "Hold her," he told one of the knights, or perhaps Morgan, whoever was closest, while looking down at the squirming Anke. He mopped up her blood with one of the cloths and then gave it a gentle wash, frequently dabbing gently with the cloth to keep the injury clear. "Thread the needle," he instructed Merthyr. There was no way he'd be able to manage it himself. "Then poke it through here ..." He pointed to one side of the gash, and mimed where it should go, showing the prince how to do a quick overcast stitch. "... and then pull it out here ... then back to here ..."

Hopefully the prince would be willing to try. If he did, it would likely be a hideous job, but the Hanged Man was sure to bungle it far worse with his hands the way they were. As they worked, he spoke to the vampire. "Mmm ... wh-what kind of game is it?"

Anke was, at this point, still attempting to get up, though her attempts were much weaker, and the woman could hardly get herself off the ground. Her pale hair was again stained red, though this time it was her own blood. And of course, was the (quite literally) growing problem of her fangs, but with the weak focus of her eyes it was seeming like she slipping away from them.

“Hide...and seek....” she breathed slowly, “I never...can get a good group...but the winners get prizes....” she laughed faintly, rolling her head to the side to smile at Merthyr, “Doesn’t that...sound fun, dear? We can...be “it”.” It was hard to tell if Anke’s childish behavior was all an act, or if she was truly as innocent as her mentality suggested.

Merthyr took a deep breath and wiped the tears away from his face with the back of the hand.

He threaded the needle and leaned over Atropos, stitching the wound gently and carefully, biting his lower lip whenever he had to pass it yet again, aware of the pain such stitches would cause her.

Contrary to what everyone feared, Merthyr did a fairly good job at it. Though he probably felt the pain all the more so than she did. His teary eyes contrasted with the forced smile he deliver to reassure her.

"You will get better, you will see... and we will play... hide and seek... and we will be "it" and I will command the entire royal army and the guild of rangers to partake too, so you get a very good group" promised Merthyr softly, kissing her forehead.

((Sorry for the wait!))

The Hanged Man oversaw the stitching. Once Merthyr had finished it off, the old wanderer snipped the sinew and
dabbed at her injury again to blot away any more blood that had oozed out. Binding her midsection was a simpler task, and once the jute bandages were in place, he leaned back. The woman was fading, her fangs still elongating in a frightful manner. "Prizes?" He reached out and gently shook her shoulder, trying to keep her from lapsing into unconsciousness. "What prizes? Our freedom, perhaps?" The prince's naivete made the Hanged Man wrinkle his nose. "If we cannot escape this spell trap, I don't see how you'll be able to issue those orders. See sense!"

The Hanged Man’s mistake, of course, had been leaning over her. Her slitted pupils narrowed suddenly, eyes darting to his arm; in a second her strong grasp had snatched his wrist, yanking his arm forward and sinking her fangs into the flesh where she would find an artery. The look on her face was entirely predatorial, though there was a faint flush to her cheeks- Anke hated feeding in front of others, especially men. But with how weak her body was, she had no choice.

There was a difference in the two ways she fed, entirely based on the cooperation of the second party. If her victim willingly allowed her to take from them, she would be able to secrete a toxin from her fangs, a numbing agent that seemed to work like an aphrodisiac, making the act pleasurable for both. But when a victim resisted, with her focus on maintaining her grip and a steady flow from their body, she had little care to make sure the act left them unshaken, and it resulted in a terribly searing pain that burned through their veins.

Had Anke had the energy, perhaps the vampire would’ve requested Merthyr or Morgan to assist her in this manner. They certainly would’ve volunteered, she was sure. But her remaining strength wasn’t enough for her to speak, and it was her predators instincts that kicked in, that urged her to attack The Hanged Man in such a manner.