"Now, this is a surprising event." Telrunya leans back and crosses his arms. "Draknir was actually my first suspect, and I didn't expect to be breathing this morning. As far as I am concerned, this day couldn't really start better. Take the good with the bad. While the downside is that we are running out of days, the bright side is that we are running short on suspects.
"So, there is Belial. My feelings toward Belial are highly ambiguous. On one hand I believe him to be innocent for several reasons: I feel he really wants to trust me, while an infiltrator would want me to trust him. I have the impression he wants to help the council, although this is merely a feeling.
"On the other hand, Belial had every reason to take down Tarbo on the first night. He had sufficiently many reasons to take down Kefka on the second night. It is unclear to me how Draknir fits into this picture, but if Belial would want to take someone down who has yet to point at Belial, the choices were limited to Delcoroth and Draknir. Given that Draknir has yet to state any way to proceed, he seem to be the likely choice of the two.
"Then there is Drainial. One thing all deceased had in common is that they never said a bad word about Drainial. In that sense, Draknir was even the final option. I have troubles deciding whether Drainial's actions are powered by a need to help the council, or only out of self-preservation. I feel the former, but the latter is undeniably there.
"And there is the venerable Delcoroth. We hardly know anything about him. Somehow, in the three days we have already spent together, he managed to take exactly one stance: Drainial and Draknir are guilty since they try to split the votes. Perhaps the reason we have so little to work with, after so many days, is that the real culprit has hardly spoken at all.
"Yet, there seems to be little reason to kill Draknir, especially because he pointed at Draknir as a potential traitor. One would not expect the traitors to undermine their own credibility.
"Lastly, there is Kyler. He stood up against Belial when the latter voted for Delcoroth. Although I believe he is merely following a gut feeling, the nagging issue is still present that Delcoroth and Kyler might be working together. It is the only possible team I see and if this is true, then today is our last chance to strike true.
"So, this is my take on it, contradictory as it may be: for Belial, Drainial, and Delcoroth I have as many arguments in favour as against, but nothing hard. The council probably has today and tomorrow, so chances still favour the council. If I am wrong --however-- then this is the final day.
"Urgent before important. Voting for Delcoroth assures the council the luxury of being there tomorrow, will bring more clarity over Kyler's allegiance, and removes a suspect of mine. The one I hope most is guilty.
"But hearing your opinions on this is important to me. I will postpone my vote until I have heard more. I am especially interested in this: I believe we need to exclude only one more person; are there any reasons why you yourself should not be considered a suspect?"
SAU XVI: Silent Waters Run Deep
Moderator: The Makers of Chains
-
Mostlyharmless
- Noble
- Posts: 456
- Joined: Tue Jan 16, 2007 5:33 am
Delcorath was gnawing on some variety of fish. He knew exactly what it was, because not only was it his business to know, but he had caught it.
"Telrunya, when you get to my age, you understand the value of listening rather than speaking. I learn more through my silence than anything else. Rather than argue, I look for patterns in people, then bring them to light. You, for example, have a tendency to speak a great deal against others, yet no one has spoken against you. A number of those you suspect are dead, their innocence proven. You paint elaborate arguments to draw attention from yourself. What are you hiding, doctor?"
"Telrunya, when you get to my age, you understand the value of listening rather than speaking. I learn more through my silence than anything else. Rather than argue, I look for patterns in people, then bring them to light. You, for example, have a tendency to speak a great deal against others, yet no one has spoken against you. A number of those you suspect are dead, their innocence proven. You paint elaborate arguments to draw attention from yourself. What are you hiding, doctor?"
"Your grand silence, valuable as you believe it to be, is in fact the single most egotistical, obstructive and --need it be said-- cowardly quality that any councillor can have. You are obviously content to let others do the heavy lifting for you and, when they do your job for you, you have the arrogance of pointing out that people who did take action have been mistaken. Thank you very much for pointing that out -- I'd give you Olympic Gold for stating the obvious but I'm sure you'd just trump yourself the next minute. The fact that we are still looking for the guilty does indeed point out that mistakes have been made. If we can make a lateral move past your overdevelopped ego and get to the crux of the case instead, I'm sure you will make a much more plesant and --dare I say-- valuable addition to this council.
"But I'm enmarvelled to see that, rather than sitting on your thumbs, you are at least twiddling them."
"But I'm enmarvelled to see that, rather than sitting on your thumbs, you are at least twiddling them."
-
Mostlyharmless
- Noble
- Posts: 456
- Joined: Tue Jan 16, 2007 5:33 am
Telrunya pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "Contempt. If there's anything I am trying to hide, it is contempt. I'm surprised you hadn't noticed this with your keen skills of observation but if I were to look down my nose at us as much as you do, I would need binoculars myself."
Telrunya leans back in his chair, takes his glass eye out of a pocket, and continues. "As I said, I have three suspects: Nilia (Drainial), Belial, and Delcoroth (mostlyharmless). But only for one, all the nightly kills make sense. None of them have ever pointed to Nilia. This makes her my main suspect. She was my number one suspect on the first day, my second suspect on day two, and now is my number one again.
"On day one, I believed her only priority to be securing herself. Afterwards, she voted for Delcoroth because, so she claimed, there was no convincing argument elsewhere. Bollocks. As Tarbo put it: the only dent in the reasoning against Tezla was that Tezla turned out to be innocent. But if you can spot that mistake before it is made --and Nilia was the only one who did-- it shows that perhaps you're playing the game with more cards than the rest of us.
"On the second day, she is reluctant to enlighten the council on Belial's allegiance because she believes Belial to be innocent. Instead she starts a vote for Cathel, knowing the council would not be able to do anything. That's a big vote of confidence in Belial, there. But no reason given. She even states that it surprises her that we drop our suspicions against Belial soon after Kefka has been taken down. Well, I didn't. But it serves to show that Nilia doesn't actually have any reasons to clear Belial's name. Unless, of course, you have more to work with.
"Furthermore, Nilia has run out of suspects. Something I think is hardly possible. Even with so many of my earlier suspects removed --Tezla, Zenobia, Draknir-- I have plenty left. I think this holds for all of us. Delcoroth, do you suspect Nilia less now that you have been proven wrong about Draknir? I certainly don't.
"If anything, this reinforces the pattern: the only thing that separates Tarbo, Kefka, and Draknir from the rest of us --apart from a pulse-- is that every one of us has voted for Nilia or held her highly suspicious at some point, while the three of them never really mentioned Nilia. She stated herself that a traitor could be careful about taking out opponents, and this is what we see: never take out a target that has a relation, however tenuous, to yourself.
"All circumstantial, of course. On their own, most of these facts can be done off as little more than peculiar, but they add up, and they add up to a disturbing pattern.
"However, urgent before important. While Nilia is my main suspect by far you, Delcoroth, have hardly tried to help the council at all. While your silence might be helpful for yourself, it is obtrusive to our workings, far more than 'Nilia and Draknir splitting the votes'. I believe in Kyler's innocence and I believe there is only one traitor left Nilia. If I am wrong however and both Kyler and Delcoroth are traitors, then this is our final day and we should vote for Delcoroth. If I am right, then the council can still vote for Nilia tomorrow.
"Please bear with me for one more thought. If Belial fails to show up, then this is our final stand and all who are loyal must strike in unison. Or we must hold our voting since tomorrow's chances will be more in our favour. Only two loyalists will have to strike true instead of three. As an added bonus, perhaps the traitors will humor me with taking down another of my main suspects."
Telrunya leans back in his chair, takes his glass eye out of a pocket, and continues. "As I said, I have three suspects: Nilia (Drainial), Belial, and Delcoroth (mostlyharmless). But only for one, all the nightly kills make sense. None of them have ever pointed to Nilia. This makes her my main suspect. She was my number one suspect on the first day, my second suspect on day two, and now is my number one again.
"On day one, I believed her only priority to be securing herself. Afterwards, she voted for Delcoroth because, so she claimed, there was no convincing argument elsewhere. Bollocks. As Tarbo put it: the only dent in the reasoning against Tezla was that Tezla turned out to be innocent. But if you can spot that mistake before it is made --and Nilia was the only one who did-- it shows that perhaps you're playing the game with more cards than the rest of us.
"On the second day, she is reluctant to enlighten the council on Belial's allegiance because she believes Belial to be innocent. Instead she starts a vote for Cathel, knowing the council would not be able to do anything. That's a big vote of confidence in Belial, there. But no reason given. She even states that it surprises her that we drop our suspicions against Belial soon after Kefka has been taken down. Well, I didn't. But it serves to show that Nilia doesn't actually have any reasons to clear Belial's name. Unless, of course, you have more to work with.
"Furthermore, Nilia has run out of suspects. Something I think is hardly possible. Even with so many of my earlier suspects removed --Tezla, Zenobia, Draknir-- I have plenty left. I think this holds for all of us. Delcoroth, do you suspect Nilia less now that you have been proven wrong about Draknir? I certainly don't.
"If anything, this reinforces the pattern: the only thing that separates Tarbo, Kefka, and Draknir from the rest of us --apart from a pulse-- is that every one of us has voted for Nilia or held her highly suspicious at some point, while the three of them never really mentioned Nilia. She stated herself that a traitor could be careful about taking out opponents, and this is what we see: never take out a target that has a relation, however tenuous, to yourself.
"All circumstantial, of course. On their own, most of these facts can be done off as little more than peculiar, but they add up, and they add up to a disturbing pattern.
"However, urgent before important. While Nilia is my main suspect by far you, Delcoroth, have hardly tried to help the council at all. While your silence might be helpful for yourself, it is obtrusive to our workings, far more than 'Nilia and Draknir splitting the votes'. I believe in Kyler's innocence and I believe there is only one traitor left Nilia. If I am wrong however and both Kyler and Delcoroth are traitors, then this is our final day and we should vote for Delcoroth. If I am right, then the council can still vote for Nilia tomorrow.
"Please bear with me for one more thought. If Belial fails to show up, then this is our final stand and all who are loyal must strike in unison. Or we must hold our voting since tomorrow's chances will be more in our favour. Only two loyalists will have to strike true instead of three. As an added bonus, perhaps the traitors will humor me with taking down another of my main suspects."
"I fear I might have overslept..."
Belial enters the room, breathless from running from his quarters.
"I apologize. I realize councillors being late is hardly what we need at the 11th hour, but I couldn't fall asleep 'till the late hours of the night..."
He walks over to Mala.
"May I see the transcripts of today dear? I need to catch up... Again, sorry guys. I'll just quickly go over what you've been saying so far."
...
...
...
"Ah. Yes. Hrm. To be honest, I am pretty much in the dark here. On one hand, it could be either Delcoroth or Kyler, hiding behind little activity so as not to betray any ulterior motives. On the other hand, it could be Nilia or Telrunya or myself, trying to lead the council in the different direction. Now, obviously, I won't vote for myself, but I don't think you should either. For one thing, I quite like being alive. For another thing, I don't think I have done much to incriminate myself.. Yet of course, neither has anyone else...
Delcoroth has, as Telrunya points out, been very quiet, and that leaves little room for mistakes on his part. That makes it very hard for me to decide on guilt or innocence, since I have, well, nothing at all to go on. One thing irks me, and that is, if I read the transcripts right, that he seems to ignore the idea that Nilia could be the traitor. If there are more than one traitor left, then that gives us a pattern, and an idea where to look next.
"Kyler might be the traitor, but only if the traitors previously lacked any form of coherence on their part. His early attack on me was a very bad move, and should he be the traitor, it would mean they act independantly, instead of coordinating their activities on the council. While that may be the case, I find it unlikely.
"Telrunya has been the far most outspoken of us. As such, he could be the traitor, manipulating us to the point where he is so trusted, his abilities so lauded, that some of us, myself included, even stated that we believed Telrunya's innocence was inquestionable. I will choose still to believe that, and Khain aid me if I am wrong. it is a gamble, but one I believe in.
"Nilia. Earlier I supported her, when I felt an unfair argument was presented against her. But as it looks now, she is my choice for a vote. For one thing, Telrunya has voiced his suspicion, and I can agree with the argument he has made - the nightly deaths has no coherence that points us to who they were a threat towards. The only recurring pattern is that Nilia had no quarrel with them. And that means they were easy targets. Another thing is Delcoroth seems to ignore any suspicion of Nilia and that could mean if there are more than one traitor, that he is the second one. They are the only two I see working together, however lightly it may be.
"I pray we finally do something right today. This may be our last chances."
Belial enters the room, breathless from running from his quarters.
"I apologize. I realize councillors being late is hardly what we need at the 11th hour, but I couldn't fall asleep 'till the late hours of the night..."
He walks over to Mala.
"May I see the transcripts of today dear? I need to catch up... Again, sorry guys. I'll just quickly go over what you've been saying so far."
...
...
...
"Ah. Yes. Hrm. To be honest, I am pretty much in the dark here. On one hand, it could be either Delcoroth or Kyler, hiding behind little activity so as not to betray any ulterior motives. On the other hand, it could be Nilia or Telrunya or myself, trying to lead the council in the different direction. Now, obviously, I won't vote for myself, but I don't think you should either. For one thing, I quite like being alive. For another thing, I don't think I have done much to incriminate myself.. Yet of course, neither has anyone else...
Delcoroth has, as Telrunya points out, been very quiet, and that leaves little room for mistakes on his part. That makes it very hard for me to decide on guilt or innocence, since I have, well, nothing at all to go on. One thing irks me, and that is, if I read the transcripts right, that he seems to ignore the idea that Nilia could be the traitor. If there are more than one traitor left, then that gives us a pattern, and an idea where to look next.
"Kyler might be the traitor, but only if the traitors previously lacked any form of coherence on their part. His early attack on me was a very bad move, and should he be the traitor, it would mean they act independantly, instead of coordinating their activities on the council. While that may be the case, I find it unlikely.
"Telrunya has been the far most outspoken of us. As such, he could be the traitor, manipulating us to the point where he is so trusted, his abilities so lauded, that some of us, myself included, even stated that we believed Telrunya's innocence was inquestionable. I will choose still to believe that, and Khain aid me if I am wrong. it is a gamble, but one I believe in.
"Nilia. Earlier I supported her, when I felt an unfair argument was presented against her. But as it looks now, she is my choice for a vote. For one thing, Telrunya has voiced his suspicion, and I can agree with the argument he has made - the nightly deaths has no coherence that points us to who they were a threat towards. The only recurring pattern is that Nilia had no quarrel with them. And that means they were easy targets. Another thing is Delcoroth seems to ignore any suspicion of Nilia and that could mean if there are more than one traitor, that he is the second one. They are the only two I see working together, however lightly it may be.
"I pray we finally do something right today. This may be our last chances."
Kyler was thoughfull as the others sent arguments toward each other.
"*sigh* well it seams i must make an apology. After reading over the transcrips of the previous few days i have come to a all together different conclusion. I belive that i have wronged you Belial. Khain help me but perhaps my reasoning for attacking you on a constant basis is because my ego is still hurt from the first day where you riped me to shreads. I apologize because i have seen what others have seen and believe you to be innocent. Mala unvote Belial. If i turn out to be wrong i will feed you to my niguliar when we get off this ship."
Kyler looks thoughfull
"Telrunya you make a few good points but i believe Belial to bee correct. As he said (partly to save my own skin but also to try and make the council work) i don't belive that Delcoroth and I are traitors. If we were then we would have had no unison from the beggining something that the assassins seem to have had. Now on your argument to Nalia, i can't fine fault with it. Those who are innocent need to get something right today or we will fall like the others. As such i will support you. I also believe that Belial is correct in saying that Delcoroth and Nilia may be the two working together because they have never cast suspicion on each other. I know this could also mean Delcoroth and I could be trators but i hope you see the reason and vote Nilia who seems to be in the center of all our arguments"
"*sigh* well it seams i must make an apology. After reading over the transcrips of the previous few days i have come to a all together different conclusion. I belive that i have wronged you Belial. Khain help me but perhaps my reasoning for attacking you on a constant basis is because my ego is still hurt from the first day where you riped me to shreads. I apologize because i have seen what others have seen and believe you to be innocent. Mala unvote Belial. If i turn out to be wrong i will feed you to my niguliar when we get off this ship."
Kyler looks thoughfull
"Telrunya you make a few good points but i believe Belial to bee correct. As he said (partly to save my own skin but also to try and make the council work) i don't belive that Delcoroth and I are traitors. If we were then we would have had no unison from the beggining something that the assassins seem to have had. Now on your argument to Nalia, i can't fine fault with it. Those who are innocent need to get something right today or we will fall like the others. As such i will support you. I also believe that Belial is correct in saying that Delcoroth and Nilia may be the two working together because they have never cast suspicion on each other. I know this could also mean Delcoroth and I could be trators but i hope you see the reason and vote Nilia who seems to be in the center of all our arguments"
Never underestimate the power of sheer bloody minded spite.
"I’m not going to fight them, you fool. I’m going to kill them.”
-Malus Darkblade
"We shall strike down our foes with sharp steel and cold hearts. The weak die so that the strong prevail and none shall be spared. Then and only then will our enemies know the true meaning of fear."
- Malekith, The Witch King of Naggaroth
"I’m not going to fight them, you fool. I’m going to kill them.”
-Malus Darkblade
"We shall strike down our foes with sharp steel and cold hearts. The weak die so that the strong prevail and none shall be spared. Then and only then will our enemies know the true meaning of fear."
- Malekith, The Witch King of Naggaroth
-
Sleekdd
- Highborn
- Posts: 637
- Joined: Sat May 21, 2005 7:33 am
- Location: Belgium, the only country where surrealism is a way of life.
Five officers left. Five out of fourteen.
Even though the raid has been successful, the damage the crew sustained would mean it would be a long time before the Skysong would ever live up to its reputation as the stuff of nightmares.
With officers falling left and right an ominous sense of danger or even doom is beginning to set in and it is not helped when you see a messenger step into the not-so-very-crowded mess to lean over and whisper something at Mala.
Her epic lack at hiding her thoughts shows clearly in the surprised face. She swallows once and beckons for your attention.
Before she speaks up, you can feel the floating fortress change speed from under you. The pull tells you they are adjusting both course and speed and that given the circumstances, that can only mean one thing.
“Ah, it seems we have reason to believe there is an Asur ship patrolling nearby,” Mala announces. “We're not sure yet but it might be a Dragon ship.”
°°°
It is Dusk. Any player getting a majority behind his name will be removed instantly.
With 5 players, a majority is reached at 3 votes.
Dusk will last until Saturday 20h00 GMT.
Votes:
None
Players:
Unless votes (or unvotes for that matter) are put in the proper format, they will not be counted. See the end of Day post or the sign-up thread for more information. If anything is not clear, you may still PM me.
As it stands, no votes, nor unvotes have been taken into account.
Even though the raid has been successful, the damage the crew sustained would mean it would be a long time before the Skysong would ever live up to its reputation as the stuff of nightmares.
With officers falling left and right an ominous sense of danger or even doom is beginning to set in and it is not helped when you see a messenger step into the not-so-very-crowded mess to lean over and whisper something at Mala.
Her epic lack at hiding her thoughts shows clearly in the surprised face. She swallows once and beckons for your attention.
Before she speaks up, you can feel the floating fortress change speed from under you. The pull tells you they are adjusting both course and speed and that given the circumstances, that can only mean one thing.
“Ah, it seems we have reason to believe there is an Asur ship patrolling nearby,” Mala announces. “We're not sure yet but it might be a Dragon ship.”
°°°
It is Dusk. Any player getting a majority behind his name will be removed instantly.
With 5 players, a majority is reached at 3 votes.
Dusk will last until Saturday 20h00 GMT.
Votes:
None
Players:
- Telrunya
- Drainial
- mostlyharmless
- sassmaw
- Belial
Unless votes (or unvotes for that matter) are put in the proper format, they will not be counted. See the end of Day post or the sign-up thread for more information. If anything is not clear, you may still PM me.
As it stands, no votes, nor unvotes have been taken into account.
Last edited by Sleekdd on Fri Dec 04, 2009 5:20 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Great minds think alike.
So if you want diversity, try morons.
So if you want diversity, try morons.
"agreed"
Vote: Nilia (Dranial)
Vote: Nilia (Dranial)
Never underestimate the power of sheer bloody minded spite.
"I’m not going to fight them, you fool. I’m going to kill them.”
-Malus Darkblade
"We shall strike down our foes with sharp steel and cold hearts. The weak die so that the strong prevail and none shall be spared. Then and only then will our enemies know the true meaning of fear."
- Malekith, The Witch King of Naggaroth
"I’m not going to fight them, you fool. I’m going to kill them.”
-Malus Darkblade
"We shall strike down our foes with sharp steel and cold hearts. The weak die so that the strong prevail and none shall be spared. Then and only then will our enemies know the true meaning of fear."
- Malekith, The Witch King of Naggaroth
-
Sleekdd
- Highborn
- Posts: 637
- Joined: Sat May 21, 2005 7:33 am
- Location: Belgium, the only country where surrealism is a way of life.
The sun is setting rapidly and the tension mounts just as fast. No longer is the Skysong the hunter, it is prey and something is tracking her down.
The messenger comes back in, pacing hurriedly to the sorceress and leaning over in an effort to be inconspicuous and discrete.
“Sorceress, the captain requests you charge the charms of mist.”
Mala suppresses an 'eep', nods and gets up. For a moment, she remembers her current duty and she realizes she can't leave you alone without someone to lead the meeting. She points at a random guard who subsequently points at himself to confirm.
“You, take over,” she commands. “The moment you get a majority, send the other officers to their tasks.”
Kender looks at the small assembly of officers. This was not exactly what he had in mind for his first trip off the continent.
°°°
Captain Promayn of the Stalwart is watching the grey and golden waves while the sun is slowly setting. It would seem the Druchii visitor was speaking the truth: opportunity lay ahead of him. He only has to reach out and take it. And with a firm wind at his back, he would cusp the cup of victory all the sooner.
Sipping from his wine, gentle and a bit fruity, he relaxes. Better to rest now, to be prepared for the moment of truth. Now that they were trailing the Black Ark, he has the distinct feeling that everything was predestined to happen but the end - the finale - is just beyond his view but that doesn't bother him.
Sighing deeply, he watches the waves once more. Fog is hovering mysteriously over the water and grey clouds are clotting together in the sky. Sensing something is off, he heads upstairs.
On his way up he notices a few sailors tending their duties with twitchy nerves. They knew just as well as he did that fogs do not occur unless the wind is next to nothing and there clearly was a decent wind present.
“Report.”
“Sir, a fog just set in,” Nathian salutes. “I've already stationed look-outs and issued a call for all the lights.”
And indeed, lights were flickering to life and white-clad sailors ran to prow and stern to scan for other vessels. Losing a ship at open sea because you ran into something or someone would be very popular with the court jesters. His career advancement, on the other hand, would be less helped by this.
°°°
Votes:
Drainial
With 5 players, 3 votes constitute a majority.
The messenger comes back in, pacing hurriedly to the sorceress and leaning over in an effort to be inconspicuous and discrete.
“Sorceress, the captain requests you charge the charms of mist.”
Mala suppresses an 'eep', nods and gets up. For a moment, she remembers her current duty and she realizes she can't leave you alone without someone to lead the meeting. She points at a random guard who subsequently points at himself to confirm.
“You, take over,” she commands. “The moment you get a majority, send the other officers to their tasks.”
Kender looks at the small assembly of officers. This was not exactly what he had in mind for his first trip off the continent.
°°°
Captain Promayn of the Stalwart is watching the grey and golden waves while the sun is slowly setting. It would seem the Druchii visitor was speaking the truth: opportunity lay ahead of him. He only has to reach out and take it. And with a firm wind at his back, he would cusp the cup of victory all the sooner.
Sipping from his wine, gentle and a bit fruity, he relaxes. Better to rest now, to be prepared for the moment of truth. Now that they were trailing the Black Ark, he has the distinct feeling that everything was predestined to happen but the end - the finale - is just beyond his view but that doesn't bother him.
Sighing deeply, he watches the waves once more. Fog is hovering mysteriously over the water and grey clouds are clotting together in the sky. Sensing something is off, he heads upstairs.
On his way up he notices a few sailors tending their duties with twitchy nerves. They knew just as well as he did that fogs do not occur unless the wind is next to nothing and there clearly was a decent wind present.
“Report.”
“Sir, a fog just set in,” Nathian salutes. “I've already stationed look-outs and issued a call for all the lights.”
And indeed, lights were flickering to life and white-clad sailors ran to prow and stern to scan for other vessels. Losing a ship at open sea because you ran into something or someone would be very popular with the court jesters. His career advancement, on the other hand, would be less helped by this.
°°°
Votes:
Drainial
- Belial
- sassmaw
With 5 players, 3 votes constitute a majority.
Great minds think alike.
So if you want diversity, try morons.
So if you want diversity, try morons.
-
Drainial
- Prophet of Tzeentch
- Posts: 4641
- Joined: Fri May 19, 2006 3:51 pm
- Location: I am the voice inside your head
"Well, once again I find my life hanging by a thread, so what can I say in my own defence?
"Throughout our time here I have opposed those who have said little and done less, most of those people are now dead, either by our hands or those of the assassins’. Only one is left, perhaps the least communicative of the lot, bar the casualties of the first day. This then is where my suspicion lies.
" I have been a suspect from day one, Telrunya certainly has always seen me as suspicious, and why? Why was I his top suspect when others espoused the same views? Well only he knows for sure and perhaps he will tell us. Certainly he usually does have his theories as to who is guilty and why, he hasn't been right yet but there we are, neither have I. He is fond of saying that the only flaw in the argument against Tezla was that she happened to be innocent. Now to me that does seem like quite a big flaw, more or less the crux of the matter really and I am becoming tired of being blamed for not jumping on board the band wagon fast enough while simultaneously being accused of bloodlust.
Personally I think it is because I was and am vocal, others were too of course, Belial was lampooned for the same reason; both of us hung on the edge of annihilation on day two partly on Telrunya's arguments and (for myself) partly because I publicly accused a block of councillors.
"So is this the act of an assassin, walking into the enemy camp soul bells ringing and with a big smile on your face? You might think so, I do not. So my vote is with Delcorath, if I am wrong than I have run out of silent members and you can kill me in the morning."
Vote Delcorath (MostlyHarmless)
"Throughout our time here I have opposed those who have said little and done less, most of those people are now dead, either by our hands or those of the assassins’. Only one is left, perhaps the least communicative of the lot, bar the casualties of the first day. This then is where my suspicion lies.
" I have been a suspect from day one, Telrunya certainly has always seen me as suspicious, and why? Why was I his top suspect when others espoused the same views? Well only he knows for sure and perhaps he will tell us. Certainly he usually does have his theories as to who is guilty and why, he hasn't been right yet but there we are, neither have I. He is fond of saying that the only flaw in the argument against Tezla was that she happened to be innocent. Now to me that does seem like quite a big flaw, more or less the crux of the matter really and I am becoming tired of being blamed for not jumping on board the band wagon fast enough while simultaneously being accused of bloodlust.
Personally I think it is because I was and am vocal, others were too of course, Belial was lampooned for the same reason; both of us hung on the edge of annihilation on day two partly on Telrunya's arguments and (for myself) partly because I publicly accused a block of councillors.
"So is this the act of an assassin, walking into the enemy camp soul bells ringing and with a big smile on your face? You might think so, I do not. So my vote is with Delcorath, if I am wrong than I have run out of silent members and you can kill me in the morning."
Vote Delcorath (MostlyHarmless)
Moding a group of Druchii.net players is much like directing the musical 'Cats' using actual cats. Frustrating, difficult, chaotic but ultimatley satisfying and a great deal of fun.
Arch Deacon of the RPG forum
Gentleman of Moderation
Arch Deacon of the RPG forum
Gentleman of Moderation
-
Mostlyharmless
- Noble
- Posts: 456
- Joined: Tue Jan 16, 2007 5:33 am
Delcorath glared at Nillia. It was shame, really. He had trained her in the ways of the sea. It was always a sad day when a teacher must kill his student.
"Perhaps we should just kill you now. I have been suspicious of you for quite some time, and I see no need to reiterate the arguments against you."
Vote: Drainial
"Perhaps we should just kill you now. I have been suspicious of you for quite some time, and I see no need to reiterate the arguments against you."
Vote: Drainial
Telrunya is still leaning back, glaring pensively at the glass eye in his hand. "These are the final hours of the council; it is not easy on me either, Nilia (Drainial). It aren't the least trusted who are left.
"However, during the past days, we have gathered valuable evidence bought by the blood of our comrades. While at the beginning there are only hunches based on some rudiments of psychology, we now have patterns to try to decipher. You were on top of my list at the beginning, and it was your contribution to the working of the council that made you more and more trustworthy in my eyes.
"But in the end, a choice has to be made. Draknir dies and --as you point out yourself-- there is little sense in this. The only red line that runs through all of the murders: no-one really mentioned you. And when you look at it that way, it is a pattern that makes sense, because you have, from the very onset, done everything conceivable to shield yourself from harm. The murders illustrate this to a point.
"I do not blame you for not voting early enough, I do not blame you for bloodlust, nor for merely following someone else's lead. But I believe you are to be blamed for the spilled blood of our fellow officers. And I believe you are the only one to blame."
Vote: Drainial
"However, during the past days, we have gathered valuable evidence bought by the blood of our comrades. While at the beginning there are only hunches based on some rudiments of psychology, we now have patterns to try to decipher. You were on top of my list at the beginning, and it was your contribution to the working of the council that made you more and more trustworthy in my eyes.
"But in the end, a choice has to be made. Draknir dies and --as you point out yourself-- there is little sense in this. The only red line that runs through all of the murders: no-one really mentioned you. And when you look at it that way, it is a pattern that makes sense, because you have, from the very onset, done everything conceivable to shield yourself from harm. The murders illustrate this to a point.
"I do not blame you for not voting early enough, I do not blame you for bloodlust, nor for merely following someone else's lead. But I believe you are to be blamed for the spilled blood of our fellow officers. And I believe you are the only one to blame."
Vote: Drainial
-
Sleekdd
- Highborn
- Posts: 637
- Joined: Sat May 21, 2005 7:33 am
- Location: Belgium, the only country where surrealism is a way of life.
“You take one bribe and they treat you like you're an undesirable. As if we're not in this for the money to start with,” Nillia sighs.
Silence.
Nillia looks around, seeing several officers and guards look back at her.
Was that out loud?
Nillia raises both her index fingers.
“Okay, this is what I think happened.”
With a jump, she dashes over the table, knocking over two guards before she careens through the door and turns the corner. And she did all that in mere seconds.
Kender blinks once in surprise. Belial sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“This is when you order the guards to detain her.”
“Oh … right … sorry.”
Guards file out of the room, beginning their search for the last of the infiltrators – Kender among them in an effort to make up for his blunder.
°°°
Delcorath tugs on his robes, glad to leave the mess. He promises himself to have his meals somewhere for the next few months – the Cold One pen if need be.
He looks up and is reminded of the sense of urgency on board the Skysong. Clouds are packing together, blotting out both the setting sun as the first bleak dots from distant stars.
“Right,” he tells himself. “Let see how we can get the crew through this without embarrassing ourselves.”
°°°
As the night falls, the wind picks up speed, howling over the restless waves. Sailors stand guard on the ramparts and towers, keeping an eye out for the elusive stalker chasing them.
The officers, worn though they be, tirelessly toil away and lift what their few shoulders can carry. The sorceresses pull out their most potent spell to charge the core hidden deep below in the rock and never before has the Black Ark known such speed. If one were paying attention, he would feel a slight swaying in the structure.
Captain Tachyan broods over the maps with Valkan nearby.
“They must have mages,” Valkan concludes.
“They can sense our core, just like we can sense them,” Tachyan nods. He doesn't like it one bit but he has little choice. Either power down to the bare minimum and face them soon or try to run and pray for a miracle – and a miracle is not an exaggeration given the devastation Nillia single-handedly caused among the officer corps.
“Sir.” Belial salutes solemnly when entering the bridge. Only after a short nod from the captain he speaks up. “Posts have reported sightings of a large vessel south-east of our position. It is most likely a Dragon ship and it is on an intercept course.”
Tachyan takes a deep, resigned breath. Battle it is. No matter the odds, they would have to slug it out.
°°°
Nillia holds her breath when she changes into the dirtied rags of the Asur slave. It must have been a brilliant white at some point but now it was a mix of dull grey and earth brown.
There was one advantage to be discovered this late in the day; it is now deep in the night and the slaves were fast asleep. A perfect hideout for as long as the night would last.
°°°
The dark purple glow of the bolts throw an eerie glow on the gunnery crews. Their trademark bolts – enchanted and explosive – are ready and trained at the approaching attackers.
“Steady...”
Kyler fixes his eyes on the large wooden vessel closing in on them from his Reaper battery. The weather had turned worse. The wind howls loudly, as if cheering at the prospect of the battle to come, and the waves lash at both players, tempting them to throw caution to the wind and charge in.
“Steady...”
The gunners tense their trigger fingers, peering along the sights to aim at their target. Huge, white sails flutter in the wind, carrying the Stalwart ever closer.
“Steady...”
°°°
Promayn checks his armour once again. Nathian pretends not to notice but he is positively getting annoyed. Never before has the pride of the Asur navy gone so far out of its way patrolling the middle of nowhere and they happen to stumble upon a Black Ark? The Skysong no less?
“Right,” Promayn nods to himself. “Bring her about. Ready the guns. Sight the battlements.”
Nathian relays the orders loud and clear. Mere moments later the ship changes its heading, trying to get alongside the Black Ark it has been chasing for days.
Still no sign of resistance. Shouldn't they have opened fire by now?
“Fire!”
Hundreds of bolts and arrows fly from bows and bolt throwers towards the fortress. The wind sweeps most arrows off course although some hit their mark. As soon as the arrows are fired the crew begins reloading the artillery.
Still nothing? No wait, there is something in the air. Lights.
A distant voice calls out for cover and that call gets all the backing it needs when the first salvo of Reaper bolts hit the deck and side of the ship with thunderclaps. Promayn ducks behind the battlement, followed by Nathian.
They survey the deck, seeing sailors run to and fro. There is a small fire burning near the prow and the deck has a few dents and holes. A few unlucky ones would not see the end of the engagement already.
°°°
Nillia startles at the sounds of battle. Did that ship find them?
Regardless, the slaves were about to wake up and they would not respond in a calm and orderly fashion if they found a dead elf in their midst, especially one robbed of her clothes.
Time to move.
°°°
White blasts blow out chunks of black rock and stone. Boarding planks are heaved into position while soldiers try to protect their comrades and themselves from intermittent hails of arrows.
Nathian shouts his orders over the wind and waves, his face dripping with salty drops.
“Secure those boards! Form up the boarding parties!”
“Lieutenant!” Promayn calls out. “Find the core! They're lost if we destroy the core!”
Nathian nods at his commanding officer, takes a deep breath and puts his silver helm on. If anyone could do it, he could.
°°°
Telrunya expertly ignores the cries of the dying and wounded. With needle and thread, salt and iodine, patience and precision, he works through the endless stream of casualties without pause.
“Next,” he drones and turns to the next one. “Where does it hurt?”
Mala comes bursting into sick bay, her curly, black hair all ruffled. “Doctor! They're boarding our ship!”
“Standard procedure,” Telrunya replies without giving Mala one slight bit of attention.
“They're going for our core! They're going to kill the sorceresses!”
Telrunya stops dead in his tracks for two seconds. He gets up and opens the medicine cabinet. Two assistants jump to attention and each promptly gets a large bottle put in their hands. “Two spoons to everyone coming in.”
“What is it?”
“Caffeine and painkillers.”
He then walks to the centre of the room and raises his arms. “Everyone – and I mean everyone – follow me.”
The wounded look at each other, not quite believing what Telrunya just announced but he leaves them little time to debate the issue. Waving a finger over his tools, he picks out a pair of scalpels and walks to the door.
“Stay close to me, sorceress.”
°°°
Belial deftly disarms the frightened sergeant fighting him and stabs him quickly in the gut.
“Hold the line!”
At his side, a dozen tired soldiers jab with their spears at the white-clad attackers. He himself, confident in his skill and that of his crew, stands at the fore, cutting and hacking at whomever is foolish enough to get within reach.
Ever more soldiers pour in from deeper down the corridor where a breach has been made in the wall.
“Forward! We need to get to the boarding platform!”
Belial elbows an inattentive enemy in the nose who falls back. When his comrade in arms tries to keep him from falling, Belial lurches forward, embedding his blade in the shoulder of the helpful soul.
°°°
Nillia looks left and then right. There seems to be not one place left where she can hide in peace. But that's not really necessary. You didn't get this far by being a fool and she earned her place among the elite of this ship.
°°°
“We made it,” Mala says, peeking over Telrunya's shoulder. The core was little more than a glorified cave with dark purple and blue hues toying with dozens of lit torches. At the heart of the chamber hovers a black ball, about the size of a man in diameter, it's surface rippling like water.
Three sorceresses are chanting frantically while weaving fingers in the air in intricate patterns while others take a much-needed breather. Many of them are wounded, some gravely.
“Mala, why are you here?”
Mala yelps and hides behind the doctor's back. She catches sight of her instructor and hurries over to the prone woman. “We came to help.”
Black-clad soldiers stumble into the chamber, forming up into a battle line with Telrunya at the centre. As the single officer, it is his duty to lead them into combat.
“Here,” Mala says. “It will make you feel better.”
The hurt woman looks at the spoon with red liquor in it.
“Telrunya calls it fighting juice,” Mala explains.
No sooner has Mala doted two spoons or the echoes of hurried steps and shouts flood into the cave. She swallows once and looks for the entrance. With discipline and precision a dozen of Asur soldier form up, a tall, slender officer in their midst.
The wounded Druchii grip their weapons grimly. Not a very fair match-up.
Telrunya grins lopsided and brandishes his scalpels. “Where does it hurt?”
°°°
Kyler curses softly. His crew has been pounding the deck of the Stalwart ceaselessly, or at least, as close to it as they could muster, but she was too close to actually hit her in the spots that would hurt her.
Then an idea dawns and he takes a good look through one of the firing slits. His teeth gleam purple in the bolt's hue.
“Sight the mast.”
°°°
Captain Promayn flinches behind the heavy shield he pulled off one of the fallen crew.
I thought they'd be dead in the water!
Two dull thuds on the shield knock him back and he hunkers down.
“Captain, Lieutenant Nathian has reached the core,” a messenger calls out, religiously sticking to whatever scrap of cover he can find.
Yes! This nightmare will be over soon and I will get promoted to admiral!
A new series of blasts ring in his ears but Promayn doesn't pay much attention to it anymore. The long, slow cracking sound of wood does draw his attention and when his eyes find the source he has but two words for any spectator.
“Bloody hell...”
The mast slowly cracks at mid-height, toppling over and finally breaking free from the ropes and sails it carried for so long. In its fall it takes down two boarding planks. The few soldiers having business there jump in the water, trading one end for another.
°°°
“Once more! Into the fray!”
Belial whips his men onwards, leading by example even though he has suffered a gaping wound in his left shoulder. None of the men he heads are scratch-free either but they are getting closer.
The wind washes over his face, pouring in from the gap mere yards in front of him. He welcomes the cold breeze as a relief from the heat.
With a quick dodge, he evades a thrust from a spear, but it finds someone else instead. Belial swings his blade over the shaft, finding an arm.
“Kneel or fall, weaklings.”
Stepping over the wounded, he advances on the next line of soldiers. He has stopped bothering to kill his opponents. Wounding them proved to be far better as the wounded would fall back and push their comrades along better than he could do.
A cry from outside pierces his ears faintly. They were backing up the boarding plank and that is no mean feat given the rough seas, howling winds and hail of arrows waiting for them.
His men smell victory and surge forward once more, joining their leader in the final push. The line buckles and dark spears flick forward, creating more gaps still. Belial brings his sword down on a raised shield. The soldier stumbles back a bit and is just in time to raise his shield for the next blow.
The officer kicks hard, sending the shield into the elf's face and then he draws a horizontal arc with his blade, hitting the soldier in the head.
The Asur break and run for safety over the boarding plank. The Druchii hunker down and grab the plank eagerly. With some heaving and grunting they slide it away, grinning when they spot one slow soldier clinging onto the wood for dear life.
“Send a message to Captain Tachyan,” Belial orders. “Tell him the boarding action has been put down. The ship can move freely.”
°°°
The wind washing through the core chamber is unrealistically strong. Telrunya has to work to draw in air enough and dozens of sprites are cackling hysterically while they pull on loose strands of hair and or crawl inside armour.
He lashes out with a spear he got off a fallen, missing his target closely and then swinging it about to block the incoming blow.
Nathian grunts annoyed. Clearly the elf standing in front of him is not experienced in combat but he seems impervious to pain or injury. Already he is bleeding from two wounds in the chest and he has only one eye left to see through but he refuses to lie down and give up.
He jumps right and evades a black bolt rolling over the floor, vigorously followed by more glowing sprites. Behind him cries one of his men as he finds himself trying to pull himself up from a bottomless pit.
Nathian makes another move, thrusting his sword ahead. Telrunya steps back and glances over his shoulder. Only one sorceress is left keeping the core in check and Mala is slinging around so many spells that the clash of metal on metal generates small arcs of lightning. Luckily, the flood of reinforcements died down but only a few of the wounded were still standing.
Telrunya jabs at him again. Nathian steps back almost without thinking but before he can make his counter-attack, Telrunya grins. Nathian frowns. What is he laughing about?
A jet of black and pink flames engulf the officer who drops his equipment and rolls over the floor in an effort to put out the magical fire.
With that, the last of the opposition has fallen.
Mala hurries to Telrunya and wants to check his injuries but he declines.
“I'll live,” he mutters.
“If you want, I can fix the eye, if you ever find one you like,” Mala says.
“You can do that?”
“I know someone who can anyway.”
Mala then hurries to the floating sphere and begins to add her magical talent to the continued floating of the Ark.
“Someone tell the captain the core is secured,” Telrunya mutters and he lets himself fall down on his hind. When no one confirms the command he looks around, finding no movement except the playfully fluttering sprites.
They'll figure it out.
°°°
Promayn pouts his lips when he sees the Skysong pull away from the Stalwart. His plan, his prize, his career … all gone.
“Sir, they're pulling away!” a sailor announces.
“I can see, sailor,” the captain snaps. “Give chase. Don't let them escape!”
As if on cue, another slow, prolonged cracking sound reaches his tried ears. He sighs deeply and doesn't even watch as the second main mast topples over, smashing into the stern of the ship.
“Set a course for home,” he orders when the thuds of arrows hitting the ship and his pincushioned shield die out.
“If it is any comfort, we did manage to free a slave from their evil clutches,” the sailor offers. “She's one of ours.”
“I'll see her in what's left of my cabin.”
°°°
As Kyler heads back to his cabin for a well-earned rest, he is joined up by Delcorath.
“I'd call that a successful trip,” Kyler grins.
“Successful? We long ten out of fourteen officers.”
“My point exactly.”
Delcoroth stops dead in his tracks, his hand hovering to the pommel of his sword. “What point are you talking about?”
“Simple, our share in the loot just tripled. Instead of splitting over fourteen, it's just the four of us.”
“Oh.”
“We, my friend, are loaded.”
Kyler laughs while he walks off, leaving Delcorath behind in the dark hallway. Delcorath rubs his arms. Did it just get colder in here?
°°°
Meanwhile, further south, a lone elf paddles towards a sandy shore while clinging on a piece of driftwood. Ignoring the idyllic beach, the weaving palm trees or the warm sun, he rolls on his back.
“Why in Khaine's name did I deserve this?” he pants. “Stuck on some island in the middle of nowhere without supplies.”
A few minutes later, he finds the courage to look around and his eyes find a bleached skeleton a dozen yards off. Not much seems to be wrong with it except that the hip bones are cracked.
Odd injury, he frowns.
A cracking branch draws his attention to the treeline and there he finds people, dressed in whatever nature can easily provide: leaves and grass.
He squints his eyes to block out the bright sun. They're all female?
Just my luck. When I look like some washed up hobo, I get to make first contact with the local populace.
Hesitantly, the leader of the group approaches the odd visitor, wearing metal skin, having pointy ears like her and – strangest of all – only one boot.
Tarbo pulls himself to his feet and waves carefully once. The leader waves back and approaches him. Tarbo's trained eyes scan her, finding no flaws whatsoever on the tanned woman.
“Hi,” he says but she frowns. Obviously, there's going to be a language barrier.
In an effort to get something of a conversation going on, Tarbo points at the bleached skeleton. The leader follows the finger and finds the remains.
She, and her companions begin to blush deeply. She wriggles her shoulders while muttering something in an incomprehensible language.
Tarbo does get the idea though and he looks up at the sky.
“Thank you.”
°°°
Salia looks absently into her goblet of wine. She feels lonely ever since her husband, Promayn, lost his life at sea. Or more accurately, near the harbour when the ship cast anchor. Nobody had seen he had gotten his leg entangled in the chains as the anchor dropped.
She knew she wasn't a looker but not once during the next fifteen years has she been accosted by anyone.
Tonight, on the fifteenth anniversary of his final call of duty, she visits the tavern he loved to frequent, drink a glass of his favourite wine and mourn his passing.
“May I join you?”
Salia looks up and finds a well-groomed Elf addressing her. He seems a bit pale, his hair is a deep black and he has a black patch over one eye but he looks like a perfect gentleman, perhaps even royally blooded.
“Please,” she says while gesturing for him to have a seat.
“I couldn't help but notice you have marvellous eyes,” the elf says.
Salia smiles flattered and casts her eyes down, playing shy. When he looks back at him, she finds him beginning to smile while he keeps his eye firmly fixed on hers. As his smile grows, her smile fades.
°°°
The game is over!
The council eliminated the last infiltrator and won the game. All roles will be posted in the sign-up thread.
Players:
Silence.
Nillia looks around, seeing several officers and guards look back at her.
Was that out loud?
Nillia raises both her index fingers.
“Okay, this is what I think happened.”
With a jump, she dashes over the table, knocking over two guards before she careens through the door and turns the corner. And she did all that in mere seconds.
Kender blinks once in surprise. Belial sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“This is when you order the guards to detain her.”
“Oh … right … sorry.”
Guards file out of the room, beginning their search for the last of the infiltrators – Kender among them in an effort to make up for his blunder.
°°°
Delcorath tugs on his robes, glad to leave the mess. He promises himself to have his meals somewhere for the next few months – the Cold One pen if need be.
He looks up and is reminded of the sense of urgency on board the Skysong. Clouds are packing together, blotting out both the setting sun as the first bleak dots from distant stars.
“Right,” he tells himself. “Let see how we can get the crew through this without embarrassing ourselves.”
°°°
As the night falls, the wind picks up speed, howling over the restless waves. Sailors stand guard on the ramparts and towers, keeping an eye out for the elusive stalker chasing them.
The officers, worn though they be, tirelessly toil away and lift what their few shoulders can carry. The sorceresses pull out their most potent spell to charge the core hidden deep below in the rock and never before has the Black Ark known such speed. If one were paying attention, he would feel a slight swaying in the structure.
Captain Tachyan broods over the maps with Valkan nearby.
“They must have mages,” Valkan concludes.
“They can sense our core, just like we can sense them,” Tachyan nods. He doesn't like it one bit but he has little choice. Either power down to the bare minimum and face them soon or try to run and pray for a miracle – and a miracle is not an exaggeration given the devastation Nillia single-handedly caused among the officer corps.
“Sir.” Belial salutes solemnly when entering the bridge. Only after a short nod from the captain he speaks up. “Posts have reported sightings of a large vessel south-east of our position. It is most likely a Dragon ship and it is on an intercept course.”
Tachyan takes a deep, resigned breath. Battle it is. No matter the odds, they would have to slug it out.
°°°
Nillia holds her breath when she changes into the dirtied rags of the Asur slave. It must have been a brilliant white at some point but now it was a mix of dull grey and earth brown.
There was one advantage to be discovered this late in the day; it is now deep in the night and the slaves were fast asleep. A perfect hideout for as long as the night would last.
°°°
The dark purple glow of the bolts throw an eerie glow on the gunnery crews. Their trademark bolts – enchanted and explosive – are ready and trained at the approaching attackers.
“Steady...”
Kyler fixes his eyes on the large wooden vessel closing in on them from his Reaper battery. The weather had turned worse. The wind howls loudly, as if cheering at the prospect of the battle to come, and the waves lash at both players, tempting them to throw caution to the wind and charge in.
“Steady...”
The gunners tense their trigger fingers, peering along the sights to aim at their target. Huge, white sails flutter in the wind, carrying the Stalwart ever closer.
“Steady...”
°°°
Promayn checks his armour once again. Nathian pretends not to notice but he is positively getting annoyed. Never before has the pride of the Asur navy gone so far out of its way patrolling the middle of nowhere and they happen to stumble upon a Black Ark? The Skysong no less?
“Right,” Promayn nods to himself. “Bring her about. Ready the guns. Sight the battlements.”
Nathian relays the orders loud and clear. Mere moments later the ship changes its heading, trying to get alongside the Black Ark it has been chasing for days.
Still no sign of resistance. Shouldn't they have opened fire by now?
“Fire!”
Hundreds of bolts and arrows fly from bows and bolt throwers towards the fortress. The wind sweeps most arrows off course although some hit their mark. As soon as the arrows are fired the crew begins reloading the artillery.
Still nothing? No wait, there is something in the air. Lights.
A distant voice calls out for cover and that call gets all the backing it needs when the first salvo of Reaper bolts hit the deck and side of the ship with thunderclaps. Promayn ducks behind the battlement, followed by Nathian.
They survey the deck, seeing sailors run to and fro. There is a small fire burning near the prow and the deck has a few dents and holes. A few unlucky ones would not see the end of the engagement already.
°°°
Nillia startles at the sounds of battle. Did that ship find them?
Regardless, the slaves were about to wake up and they would not respond in a calm and orderly fashion if they found a dead elf in their midst, especially one robbed of her clothes.
Time to move.
°°°
White blasts blow out chunks of black rock and stone. Boarding planks are heaved into position while soldiers try to protect their comrades and themselves from intermittent hails of arrows.
Nathian shouts his orders over the wind and waves, his face dripping with salty drops.
“Secure those boards! Form up the boarding parties!”
“Lieutenant!” Promayn calls out. “Find the core! They're lost if we destroy the core!”
Nathian nods at his commanding officer, takes a deep breath and puts his silver helm on. If anyone could do it, he could.
°°°
Telrunya expertly ignores the cries of the dying and wounded. With needle and thread, salt and iodine, patience and precision, he works through the endless stream of casualties without pause.
“Next,” he drones and turns to the next one. “Where does it hurt?”
Mala comes bursting into sick bay, her curly, black hair all ruffled. “Doctor! They're boarding our ship!”
“Standard procedure,” Telrunya replies without giving Mala one slight bit of attention.
“They're going for our core! They're going to kill the sorceresses!”
Telrunya stops dead in his tracks for two seconds. He gets up and opens the medicine cabinet. Two assistants jump to attention and each promptly gets a large bottle put in their hands. “Two spoons to everyone coming in.”
“What is it?”
“Caffeine and painkillers.”
He then walks to the centre of the room and raises his arms. “Everyone – and I mean everyone – follow me.”
The wounded look at each other, not quite believing what Telrunya just announced but he leaves them little time to debate the issue. Waving a finger over his tools, he picks out a pair of scalpels and walks to the door.
“Stay close to me, sorceress.”
°°°
Belial deftly disarms the frightened sergeant fighting him and stabs him quickly in the gut.
“Hold the line!”
At his side, a dozen tired soldiers jab with their spears at the white-clad attackers. He himself, confident in his skill and that of his crew, stands at the fore, cutting and hacking at whomever is foolish enough to get within reach.
Ever more soldiers pour in from deeper down the corridor where a breach has been made in the wall.
“Forward! We need to get to the boarding platform!”
Belial elbows an inattentive enemy in the nose who falls back. When his comrade in arms tries to keep him from falling, Belial lurches forward, embedding his blade in the shoulder of the helpful soul.
°°°
Nillia looks left and then right. There seems to be not one place left where she can hide in peace. But that's not really necessary. You didn't get this far by being a fool and she earned her place among the elite of this ship.
°°°
“We made it,” Mala says, peeking over Telrunya's shoulder. The core was little more than a glorified cave with dark purple and blue hues toying with dozens of lit torches. At the heart of the chamber hovers a black ball, about the size of a man in diameter, it's surface rippling like water.
Three sorceresses are chanting frantically while weaving fingers in the air in intricate patterns while others take a much-needed breather. Many of them are wounded, some gravely.
“Mala, why are you here?”
Mala yelps and hides behind the doctor's back. She catches sight of her instructor and hurries over to the prone woman. “We came to help.”
Black-clad soldiers stumble into the chamber, forming up into a battle line with Telrunya at the centre. As the single officer, it is his duty to lead them into combat.
“Here,” Mala says. “It will make you feel better.”
The hurt woman looks at the spoon with red liquor in it.
“Telrunya calls it fighting juice,” Mala explains.
No sooner has Mala doted two spoons or the echoes of hurried steps and shouts flood into the cave. She swallows once and looks for the entrance. With discipline and precision a dozen of Asur soldier form up, a tall, slender officer in their midst.
The wounded Druchii grip their weapons grimly. Not a very fair match-up.
Telrunya grins lopsided and brandishes his scalpels. “Where does it hurt?”
°°°
Kyler curses softly. His crew has been pounding the deck of the Stalwart ceaselessly, or at least, as close to it as they could muster, but she was too close to actually hit her in the spots that would hurt her.
Then an idea dawns and he takes a good look through one of the firing slits. His teeth gleam purple in the bolt's hue.
“Sight the mast.”
°°°
Captain Promayn flinches behind the heavy shield he pulled off one of the fallen crew.
I thought they'd be dead in the water!
Two dull thuds on the shield knock him back and he hunkers down.
“Captain, Lieutenant Nathian has reached the core,” a messenger calls out, religiously sticking to whatever scrap of cover he can find.
Yes! This nightmare will be over soon and I will get promoted to admiral!
A new series of blasts ring in his ears but Promayn doesn't pay much attention to it anymore. The long, slow cracking sound of wood does draw his attention and when his eyes find the source he has but two words for any spectator.
“Bloody hell...”
The mast slowly cracks at mid-height, toppling over and finally breaking free from the ropes and sails it carried for so long. In its fall it takes down two boarding planks. The few soldiers having business there jump in the water, trading one end for another.
°°°
“Once more! Into the fray!”
Belial whips his men onwards, leading by example even though he has suffered a gaping wound in his left shoulder. None of the men he heads are scratch-free either but they are getting closer.
The wind washes over his face, pouring in from the gap mere yards in front of him. He welcomes the cold breeze as a relief from the heat.
With a quick dodge, he evades a thrust from a spear, but it finds someone else instead. Belial swings his blade over the shaft, finding an arm.
“Kneel or fall, weaklings.”
Stepping over the wounded, he advances on the next line of soldiers. He has stopped bothering to kill his opponents. Wounding them proved to be far better as the wounded would fall back and push their comrades along better than he could do.
A cry from outside pierces his ears faintly. They were backing up the boarding plank and that is no mean feat given the rough seas, howling winds and hail of arrows waiting for them.
His men smell victory and surge forward once more, joining their leader in the final push. The line buckles and dark spears flick forward, creating more gaps still. Belial brings his sword down on a raised shield. The soldier stumbles back a bit and is just in time to raise his shield for the next blow.
The officer kicks hard, sending the shield into the elf's face and then he draws a horizontal arc with his blade, hitting the soldier in the head.
The Asur break and run for safety over the boarding plank. The Druchii hunker down and grab the plank eagerly. With some heaving and grunting they slide it away, grinning when they spot one slow soldier clinging onto the wood for dear life.
“Send a message to Captain Tachyan,” Belial orders. “Tell him the boarding action has been put down. The ship can move freely.”
°°°
The wind washing through the core chamber is unrealistically strong. Telrunya has to work to draw in air enough and dozens of sprites are cackling hysterically while they pull on loose strands of hair and or crawl inside armour.
He lashes out with a spear he got off a fallen, missing his target closely and then swinging it about to block the incoming blow.
Nathian grunts annoyed. Clearly the elf standing in front of him is not experienced in combat but he seems impervious to pain or injury. Already he is bleeding from two wounds in the chest and he has only one eye left to see through but he refuses to lie down and give up.
He jumps right and evades a black bolt rolling over the floor, vigorously followed by more glowing sprites. Behind him cries one of his men as he finds himself trying to pull himself up from a bottomless pit.
Nathian makes another move, thrusting his sword ahead. Telrunya steps back and glances over his shoulder. Only one sorceress is left keeping the core in check and Mala is slinging around so many spells that the clash of metal on metal generates small arcs of lightning. Luckily, the flood of reinforcements died down but only a few of the wounded were still standing.
Telrunya jabs at him again. Nathian steps back almost without thinking but before he can make his counter-attack, Telrunya grins. Nathian frowns. What is he laughing about?
A jet of black and pink flames engulf the officer who drops his equipment and rolls over the floor in an effort to put out the magical fire.
With that, the last of the opposition has fallen.
Mala hurries to Telrunya and wants to check his injuries but he declines.
“I'll live,” he mutters.
“If you want, I can fix the eye, if you ever find one you like,” Mala says.
“You can do that?”
“I know someone who can anyway.”
Mala then hurries to the floating sphere and begins to add her magical talent to the continued floating of the Ark.
“Someone tell the captain the core is secured,” Telrunya mutters and he lets himself fall down on his hind. When no one confirms the command he looks around, finding no movement except the playfully fluttering sprites.
They'll figure it out.
°°°
Promayn pouts his lips when he sees the Skysong pull away from the Stalwart. His plan, his prize, his career … all gone.
“Sir, they're pulling away!” a sailor announces.
“I can see, sailor,” the captain snaps. “Give chase. Don't let them escape!”
As if on cue, another slow, prolonged cracking sound reaches his tried ears. He sighs deeply and doesn't even watch as the second main mast topples over, smashing into the stern of the ship.
“Set a course for home,” he orders when the thuds of arrows hitting the ship and his pincushioned shield die out.
“If it is any comfort, we did manage to free a slave from their evil clutches,” the sailor offers. “She's one of ours.”
“I'll see her in what's left of my cabin.”
°°°
As Kyler heads back to his cabin for a well-earned rest, he is joined up by Delcorath.
“I'd call that a successful trip,” Kyler grins.
“Successful? We long ten out of fourteen officers.”
“My point exactly.”
Delcoroth stops dead in his tracks, his hand hovering to the pommel of his sword. “What point are you talking about?”
“Simple, our share in the loot just tripled. Instead of splitting over fourteen, it's just the four of us.”
“Oh.”
“We, my friend, are loaded.”
Kyler laughs while he walks off, leaving Delcorath behind in the dark hallway. Delcorath rubs his arms. Did it just get colder in here?
°°°
Meanwhile, further south, a lone elf paddles towards a sandy shore while clinging on a piece of driftwood. Ignoring the idyllic beach, the weaving palm trees or the warm sun, he rolls on his back.
“Why in Khaine's name did I deserve this?” he pants. “Stuck on some island in the middle of nowhere without supplies.”
A few minutes later, he finds the courage to look around and his eyes find a bleached skeleton a dozen yards off. Not much seems to be wrong with it except that the hip bones are cracked.
Odd injury, he frowns.
A cracking branch draws his attention to the treeline and there he finds people, dressed in whatever nature can easily provide: leaves and grass.
He squints his eyes to block out the bright sun. They're all female?
Just my luck. When I look like some washed up hobo, I get to make first contact with the local populace.
Hesitantly, the leader of the group approaches the odd visitor, wearing metal skin, having pointy ears like her and – strangest of all – only one boot.
Tarbo pulls himself to his feet and waves carefully once. The leader waves back and approaches him. Tarbo's trained eyes scan her, finding no flaws whatsoever on the tanned woman.
“Hi,” he says but she frowns. Obviously, there's going to be a language barrier.
In an effort to get something of a conversation going on, Tarbo points at the bleached skeleton. The leader follows the finger and finds the remains.
She, and her companions begin to blush deeply. She wriggles her shoulders while muttering something in an incomprehensible language.
Tarbo does get the idea though and he looks up at the sky.
“Thank you.”
°°°
Salia looks absently into her goblet of wine. She feels lonely ever since her husband, Promayn, lost his life at sea. Or more accurately, near the harbour when the ship cast anchor. Nobody had seen he had gotten his leg entangled in the chains as the anchor dropped.
She knew she wasn't a looker but not once during the next fifteen years has she been accosted by anyone.
Tonight, on the fifteenth anniversary of his final call of duty, she visits the tavern he loved to frequent, drink a glass of his favourite wine and mourn his passing.
“May I join you?”
Salia looks up and finds a well-groomed Elf addressing her. He seems a bit pale, his hair is a deep black and he has a black patch over one eye but he looks like a perfect gentleman, perhaps even royally blooded.
“Please,” she says while gesturing for him to have a seat.
“I couldn't help but notice you have marvellous eyes,” the elf says.
Salia smiles flattered and casts her eyes down, playing shy. When he looks back at him, she finds him beginning to smile while he keeps his eye firmly fixed on hers. As his smile grows, her smile fades.
°°°
The game is over!
The council eliminated the last infiltrator and won the game. All roles will be posted in the sign-up thread.
Players:
- Telrunya
- mostlyharmless
- sassmaw
- Belial
Great minds think alike.
So if you want diversity, try morons.
So if you want diversity, try morons.