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|Author:||Drainial [ Tue Dec 08, 2009 9:16 pm ]|
|Post subject:||Group 28|
The market was fairly quiet, not unusual for the time of day. Though the sky was clear and the sun bright the more honest citizens of Vikrha would soon be heading home; it was best not to be caught out as night was falling, and dusk was not far off.
Still there was plenty going on, vendors cried their wares in competition with the more established shop keepers whose business lined the large stone square. Signs for butchers, bakers and whitchlight makers vying with stalls laden with bright cloths and clockwork toys. In the very centre of the square the slave block presented a few bedraggled urchins caught stealing from a merchant not half an hour ago to a tiny crowd of bored onlookers. No one was bidding, two slave caravans were due the next day, and another the day after that.
None of this was out of the ordinary, the same could be seen in any of the six cities and any other town of note throughout Naggroth; but where Hag Grief had its bankers and Har Ganeth its executioners Vikrha had quite another claim to fame. Dotted throughout the square, in small groups or standing alone, were the mercenaries that made Vikrah Naggroth's seventh city.
With little else to distract them all eyes turned to watch a plush carriage thundering down the great paved Boulevard leading from the mansions of the mighty. Pulled by four sleek horses and driven by liveried footmen it could not be doubted that this was the carriage of a noble house, though few could recognise the crest.
The nobility rarely had business in the agora and the whole square quieted for a moment, vendors forgetting to heckle passersby, as the doors swung open.
The occupant was a disappointment, a small woman in a deep green dress, a crest stitched to the breast matching that on the carriage; an emissary from a noble to be sure. It quickly became obvious that there were to be no spectacular announcements or displays and business picked up where it had left off. The mercenaries though watched closely as this woman picked her way towards them, accompanied by two footmen armed with stout staves and sheathed short swords.
Marching to the steps of the Dancing Goat, an Inn which served as a home from home for mercenaries seeking employment, the trio stopped to address the small crowd of armed elves which had gathered. Slamming their staves onto the pavement three times the footmen bellowed for silence, though quite what it achieved was questionable. The mercenaries had been silent already, and the civilians paid them no heed.
Unperturbed the emissary drew herself up and called out in a clear, high voice
"My lord requires volunteers for a dangerous short term contract." It was not an announcement to inspire round of cheering, and several of the mercenaries slunk back to their places, or back inside the Goat.
"You may have to leave the city for some time." She added, more warriors wandered away
"And there will be no money in advance." Most of the remaining crowd dispersed, leaving just four. Four elves keen, poor or just plain desperate enough to take any job they could get.
Cocking her head to one side the emissary studied them for a moment, before beckoning them forward.
"Well, I suppose you will have to do. At least you can all fit in the carriage. Come with me."
The green clad woman said very little on the journey to her master's tower, and the footmen nothing at all; but the carriage was roomy and the seats plush.
They did not have far to travel, after perhaps half an hour racing through the nobles district the carriage pulled in. Great wrought iron gates were pulled aside and they rumbled into a stone courtyard. The mansion was small, relatively speaking, though it still dwarfed the most extravagant of common homes. A tall spire eight stories high with curving battlements and bronze sheathed doors twice the height of an elf were about the norm for the highborn, this one only had seven.
"Come with me," The emissary curtly commanded. Leaving slaves to care for the horses all six figures made their way into the tower, by a smaller side door, and up many flights of stairs.
Here wealth was displayed everywhere, extravagant tapestries and busts scattered in niches lined the corridors displaying heroic scenes. They passed many slaves and liveried servants, all of good stock. They might never have heard of this noble house before, but apparently they did not lack for cash. That was good, very good indeed.
The woman leading the mercenaries came to an abrupt stop outside a non-descript door on the fourth floor. Opening it she led the band inside. It was a fairly Spartan affair, a wooden table, a couple of book cases, some chairs, and a drinks cabinet. Nothing fancy for the highborn.
"Make yourselves comfortable." She said, waving to the table "My master will be with you shortly."
With that she left, taking her guardians with her. The door slammed shut with a thud, leaving four strangers alone in a room.
OCC: Please use this time to introduce yourselves and get to know one another.
-Drainial, RPG Mod group 28
|Author:||Syjahel [ Wed Dec 09, 2009 2:05 am ]|
Well; all alone in a room like this, with two Druchii she had never seen before today. Little promise of gold, none of glory; only the offer of service to be performed, and a nebulous offer at that.
To Syjahel Vasht, elegant, languid and slightly fatigued from the effort of staying up to win and then lose all her coin with a disreputable crowd at an equally disreputable inn (whose name she couldn't recall), this sounded just fine.
There were alternatives, certainly: return to the road, seeing what Ghrond had to offer - likely a quick death - or passage to Karond Kar and the ships, or the third, ever-present: go home to Father.
This was not acceptable.
Where she would have been naturally curious to see what manner of books the Highborn had left for the guests to see that he owned, there were people here, and Syjahel had a better sense of good breeding than to ignore them. In any case, an ally spurned is a sure knife in the back.
"Well, it would appear that our reticent 'benefactor' has been so kind as to provide us with wine, at least." She crossed to the drinks cabinet, taking out three plain glasses and a bottle of wine. Medium-decent, to judge by the label. She poured four very even glasses-full where everyone could see the whole of the action, taking one in plain sight. She paused just shy of drinking it, though, holding it meditatively while she tried to gauge the company she found herself in.
There had been nothing especially remarkable about the messenger, and that would have been intentional, she decided: the better to keep things to a low profile. So perhaps these two were also, like her, people who might not want to raise immediate connections to those they left behind them. She decided not to begin with rank, station, or ideas of that nature.
"I am Syjahel, from Klar Karond," as no doubt the accent would tell them - no sense in trying to hide that, and she'd make a lousy peasant anyway, "but lately I have been spending time in this mercenary city. I have had a little luck, here and there, with work, but I find myself at a loose end, as perhaps do you.
"I know that we may have nothing in common except for that, and I also know that I can give you no reason to trust me. But I have a suggestion for you.
"We do not know this Highborn, and we do not know each other. However, the three of us stand a much better chance of doing well out of this whether things go well, or badly, if we do not work against each other.
"I have a proposition for you ..." absently, she tasted the wine from the tip of one finger, finding it dry but good, pausing in thought before continuing, "I say we work together, an informal alliance if you will. It can do us no harm and might be all to the good."
She raised the glass in a small gesture of salute, and took a sip. If that didn't inspire them that she had not poisoned it, nothing would, although she couldn't yet vouch for what the host had done.
Syjahel will make conversation with the others in response to what they say, if anything; if they say nothing she will make another attempt to start some conversation, if silence is the order of the day she'll finish her wine, examine the book titles and wait to hear more from the Highborn host.
|Author:||Mythic77 [ Wed Dec 09, 2009 4:33 am ]|
Khalea seized up the room, constantly scanning her elegant surrounding for any type of threat. She was uncomfortable with her surrounding, out of place among the wealth and splendor around her. She didn't know how to act in such places, but she took consolation that at least it was spacious, something that the tavern had not been.
Normally she would not have come, for it was obvious that this was different from most jobs she took. The mission was to be "short term" but the messenger had also stated that any participants could be away fro months, and while that wasn't necessarily a long assignment, it wasn't a short one either.
However Khalea was down on her luck, having no money left over from her previous jobs, merely the clothing on her back and her weapons. She had been trying to find a good job, but hadn't been able to, as she lacked the brute force for a lot of jobs. Hopefully this was something more to her tastes.
"Well, it would appear that our reticent 'benefactor' has been so kind as to provide us with wine, at least." Khalea heard one of the other freelancers say.
Khalea wasn't sure what to think about her companions. Syjahel carried herself with confidence, like a highborn, and she certainly seemed to be at home here in the sitting room of their "benefactor". However... nobles didn't hang out in taverns with low life riff-raff and mercenaries, so Khlaea Wondered why she was here.
As if she had read Khalea's thoughts, a notion the diminutive druchii didn't dismiss as impossible, Syjahel said "I am Syjahel, from Klar Karond, but lately I have been spending time in this mercenary city. I have had a little luck, here and there, with work, but I find myself at a loose end, as perhaps do you.
"I know that we may have nothing in common except for that, and I also know that I can give you no reason to trust me. But I have a suggestion for you.
We do not know this Highborn, and we do not know each other. However, the three of us stand a much better chance of doing well out of this whether things go well, or badly, if we do not work against each other.
I have a proposition for you ...I say we work together, an informal alliance if you will. It can do us no harm and might be all to the good."
Khalea took a glass of wine but, not sure what to do with it, she imitated Syjahel, returning the gesture and taking a small sip when the noble daughter did.
"Dangerous work and no money in advance, why do i get a bad feeling about this..." Khalea said softly, watching both of the others "I would agree to this alliance of yours, seeing as i think our problems are going to get a lot bigger."
Khalea looked over to the third soldier of fortune, painfully aware that he was over a foot and a half taller than she was, and likely weighed twice as much.
Khalea will continue to scan the room, constantly searching for threats. She will also attempt to fit in by imitating Syjahel in manners of courtesy.
|Author:||Darkdoom [ Wed Dec 09, 2009 8:48 am ]|
Malus hoped the tension of his body didn't show; he doubted it with his cloak covering his complete body. Could it be that this was it? Could it be that he finally found the man he had been searching for, for over a year now? He didn't dare to hope it. But just for the possibility he had to plan what he would do if it was him. He'd stand up normally to "greet" him, sliding the dagger out of his boot as he stood up, and then hide it under his sleeve till he is close enough to stab any vital points. What worried him were the other two mercenaries. Would they notice? Would they try to stop him? He doubted that he could take them both at once even with the element of surprise in his favour. Maybe he should kill them first? No, it would be easier just to jump out of the window after he stabbed him; if it was him.
"Well, it would appear that our reticent 'benefactor' has been so kind as to provide us with wine, at least." One of the other mercenaries, beautiful noble seeming women, said.
Only then did he notice the bottle, he had been drifting away with his thoughts. He considered the possibility of the wine to be poisoned and thought it not much higher than in any city tavern, which still was not low as his experience with city Druchii told him.
The women spoke again: "I am Syjahel, from Klar Karond, but lately I have been spending time in this mercenary city. I have had a little luck, here and there, with work, but I find myself at a loose end, as perhaps do you.
I know that we may have nothing in common except for that, and I also know that I can give you no reason to trust me. But I have a suggestion for you.
We do not know this Highborn, and we do not know each other. However, the three of us stand a much better chance of doing well out of this whether things go well, or badly, if we do not work against each other.
I have a proposition for you ...I say we work together, an informal alliance if you will. It can do us no harm and might be all to the good."
"Dangerous work and no money in advance, why do I get a bad feeling about this...?” Said the other sell sword."I would agree to this alliance of yours, seeing as I think our problems are going to get a lot bigger."
Naive fools, Malus thought happily. This actually looked like it could help him. Weather it was HIM or not the worst for their 'benefactor' was always in his interest.
I agree with you. Together we are stronger , he said in a quiet low voice and took the wine and put it on the table.
He did not feel bound by what he said. He would do whatever it would take to get his vengeance and at the moment that was to play nicely.
Malus will sit and think. He will keep quiet and not touch his wine, but will follow anything interesting that is said
|Author:||Messiahofdeath [ Thu Dec 10, 2009 1:11 am ]|
OOC: All this threesome talk made me feel very much unwanted and forgotten
It wasn’t the most successful month for Sinfulblade, not only did two of his mercenary missions ended in somewhat lackluster outcomes, granted one of them landed the teal elf a reaper bolt thrower, but that was hardly enough of a payment for all the blood, sweat and sleepless nights he had given the mission, it seemed more and more obvious to him that money was running short, especially when one takes into account the running price for barbed ammunition, his prized “baby” needed. That however, still wasn’t his biggest problem the biggest thorn in his side was boredom that crept into his daily life once the bolt thrower could not be used on a daily basis. This boredom hit the psyche of the trainee hard and he had to turn to his old habits of finding a safe refuge in fire, the only surrounding where his mask of sanity didn’t crumble, or least that’s what Sinful thought.
It all started small, but soon it escalated and the arsenic clouds from his fires started to attract people that were hardly the biggest fans of Sinful’s after-curriculum activities. That day, however, it escalated even more and Sinful found himself hiding in a group of mercenaries from a few unruly guards that had been following him for quite some time. Sure, the arrogant khainate thought he could easily take them, but that would only escalate his downfall and soon he knew that odds he could not best would be staked against him, thus concealing himself was the best action at the time. Little did the loner know that a job offer that was insulting even by druchii standards would be his safe ticket that day.
Not wanting to risk a confrontation with the guards Sinful quickly jumped into the carriage and was on his way towards the mansion of his to-be employer. At first his intent was to abandon the trip as soon as he got far enough from any pesky eyes, that might have spotted him taking refuge in the wooden contraption, but as minutes flew by the arrogant khainate started to weight the pros and cons of the possible endeavor and the ever present shortage of coins in his pouch made him ditch the idea of running. He will have to be a sap this time, after all the better the offer the bigger the scam.
Once the mercenaries were in the keep of the noble that was about to hire them and safely sat in the designated waiting room Sinful took a few minutes to weigh up his to-be companions. Nothing special, nothing he hasn’t seem before, after all, the combo of a desperately sunken in depts. cut-throat and a snotty noble that for some obscure reason wanted to try out the “romantic” life of a mercenary was a cliché amongst clichés in Sinful’s eyes.
Taking refuge in his own mind the silent pyro slowly drifted away, his thoughts entangled in webs of lucid fantasies interlocked with old memories of past missions and his time in the great temple slowly soothed Sinful and he pushed the surrounding activity around him out of his field of vision. There he sat alone in a dim room, the other mercenaries fading into the shadows, only him, the bottle of wine that in his eyes seemed to be formed out of a fluid flame, which danced with eerie brightness completely unrealistic and rightfully so, for often visions of reality were tainted and twisted in the teal elf’s eyes.
Sinful hissed to himself under his breath as he took the bottle from the table and examined it for a few seconds attentively, before growing childishly bored of the wondrous visage and settling for the more down to earth pleasures the bottle had in store. Taking a big swing from the bottle, ignoring any glass that might have been presented to him the khainate sunk back in his chair and shrugged at the taste.
|Author:||Drainial [ Thu Dec 10, 2009 1:08 pm ]|
The somewhat unsettled atmosphere which had settled over the mercenaries was lifted as the door swung open on well oiled hinges. In stepped a tall figure, elegantly dressed in a silken robe of deep sea green far more costly than that of the emissary and embroidered with leaping sea beasts. He was tall, and old, that much was clear. His face was lined with stress and his hair was pure silver. Closing the door behind him the new comer swept behind the foursome to stand on the opposite side of the table. Though all should have been equal none could escape the feeling that he was now behind the desk and they naughty children before their tutor; he had a rare presence this elf, not what one would expect of a reclusive highborn in his fancy tower.
"I see you have helped yourselves to the wine," he began with a half smile. "But no matter, to business. I am, as you may have guessed, Lord Sultra." Gesturing to the room with a wave of his arm he said "This is my home. Now then let me tell you what I have in mind for you. There is a grave and pressing matter I must deal with, and yet find myself without the warriors to see it done. I have boys and strutting peacocks in their place, and I have need of some fighters." The highborn studied each in turn
"And what I find is you, but my matter is not one to be undertaken lightly, nor by those of weak will or those who lack the skills to see it through. To that end I have another task for you, the task that my assistant spoke to you about. It will be dirty, grim and dangerous work, but should not take too long if you are indeed of the quality I am looking for. Consider it a test of your skills.
Lord Sultra pulled out a chair and sat, steeping his fingers as he stared at the motley crew he had assembled.
"Some of you may know the of the tunnels that run under Vikrah," Those of the band who had indulged in a spot of smuggling certainly would, the tunnels were banned by royal decree, and yet the gate guards found again and again that goods got into the city without paying the necessary fees either to the state or to themselves.
"There is a stretch of tunnel used often by me servants for...storage... but lately there have been several accidents; heads falling off and people falling onto jagged rocks, that sort of thing. I have begun to suspect that the cause may not be clumsiness alone. I would like you to investigate. If all goes well I may be able to offer you more permanent employment.
|Author:||Syjahel [ Thu Dec 10, 2009 9:10 pm ]|
Can quietness be mistaken for shyness? The noblewoman wasn't sure about the petite Shade, but she would not be so foolish as to discount her, reticent or not. If Khalea seemed a little ill at ease in the confines of a building, it was what Syjahel had come to expect from Autarii. No doubt I would feel out of place among the Hill Clans, she mused to herself, setting down the wine for a moment. No sense in taking too much and missing all the details. The girl was aware of the risks, that much was certain. Though Syjahel was glad she'd agreed to her plan in principle, she was also pleased that she wasn't the only one to think it an odd one. She'd heard a lot from her brothers about the abilities of Shades; no better eyes or ears, it was said. Better to have at one's side than at one's back.
"I agree that it is a fool's errand ... " Syjahel nodded, then turned to the man to her left. Swathed in his cloak it was impossible to see how much he did, or did not find the situation to his liking, but his laconic agreement made her think that at least they would start the job on something like level ground. "But I am glad that we can begin in some kind of accord. A show of solidarity never hurts when negotiating, either ..." A shame he was so wrapped up like that; she liked to at least be able to see if her prospective fellow-travellers were handsome.
Turning to the last stranger, she was glad he'd not sat any closer. There was an unhealthy colour to the man's skin in the witchlight, like a plague-corpse or the victim of some terrible, unnamed disease. She fervently hoped he wasn't poxed with something dreadful. When he started muttering to himself, her opinion was not improved, and when the lout grabbed the bottle and took a hefty swig from it she knew she wasn't going to pour any more.
Her increasingly downbeat assessment was sidelined by the entrance of the patrician Druchii responsible for the gathering. At the sight of him she at once straightened still further and before she knew it was at attention. She knew an aura of command when she saw it, and this old one had her respect. One does not live to any kind of age in Naggaroth on primroses and fairytales. She met his gaze with a level and confident gaze, but was careful not to appear brash and challenging. The sometime Lord's 'son' considered his words carefully before speaking,
"I have heard of the tunnels," this was, of course, a lie in the strictest sense, but it would explain the high number of traders with 'special deals, for one day only', "but I do not know them well. I cannot speak for us all, but I fully expected to be tested by any employer worth working for - it is our way.
"In return I would like to ask that we be given good directions, and if we will need specialist tools to make our way there, that we be given a loan of those also. I am sure my Lord sees the sense in that. All the strength and wits in the world would not avail us if we are ill-prepared."
Syjahel will wait to see what the Lord's response is, and what everyone else has to say. If she can think of anything else she wants to ask after that, she will politely wait until the end.
And she'll keep her distance from the tall teal one, for now ...
|Author:||Mythic77 [ Fri Dec 11, 2009 4:01 am ]|
Khalea listened to the other two mercenary's talk, her eyes darting around the room. She had already memorized the layout of the room, but she kept watching for any sort of threat, or any source of movement.
However, right now the most alarming thing to Khalea was Sinfulblade, the giant was twice her size and had gone straight into the wine, muttering inaudibly. His off colored skin just added to her unease and she had made sure that she was out of his arm's reach.
The fourth member of their group seemed nondescript to Khalea, and she supposed he would like it that way.
Then a noble walked in, his very presence seemed to fill the room. Khalea suddenly felt very vulnerable, like a mouse facing down a hydra. He explained why he had called them, and Khalea felt herself nodding in response to his explanation. She stopped herself, glaceing suspiciously around the room as she regained her focus on her surroundings.
Khalea didn't like tunnels, they were enclosed area and it was easy to have something sneak up upon you, no matter how alert you were. She much prefered forests and other area's where she could see threats coming from a good distance away. However, she preferred tunnels and caves to town, so she wouldn't complain.
Khalea was relieved when Syjahel took the initiative and being negotiating with the lord. She would much rather let the lord's daughter do the talking than have to participate herself.
Khalea will continue to observe, not adding her input unless specifically called out. She will also keep some distance from sinfulblade, and attempt to learn more about her new "companions" by observation.
|Author:||Darkdoom [ Fri Dec 11, 2009 6:32 am ]|
Malus was disappointed. It wasn't him. The nobel lord that came in didn't even slightly match the man he was searching for. Well, no going back now, he thought.
Tunnels under the city? He had heard a few rumours about them but they had seem as true to him as thoise about the skaven's rat god, at that time. That would make his job a lot better! Tunnels were dark and there weren't many people. And due to the small size a dagger would be more eficcient than a sword.
He eyed his companions again. The man called Sinnfulblade was big and his skinn had a unhealth colour, but he was to direct to frighten him. Additionally I think I'm stronger than him, though his staue didn't show it that clearly he was unusuall strong, for an elf. The nobel seeming woman was to naive to treaten him but just to be sure he'd keep an eye on her, he had no problen with an unseen enemie in a dark tunnel, what worried him was to have to work with city breed druchii. Khalea worried him the most, beeing a shade as well, if they should find them selfs enemies for some reason it would be an fair fight, nothing he would want to be involved in.
Malus doesn't move at all but will observe EVERYTHING that happens very carefully .
|Author:||Messiahofdeath [ Sun Dec 13, 2009 12:06 am ]|
OOC: Gah, posting last again, I feel somewhat out of sync with everyone else. Is there a deadline for posts or something to that extent?
With the doors opening Sinful finally set his eyes upon his to-be employer, although he did not seem in any extent unusual when compared to how the trainee pictured an etalon of a Highborn, he did seem a tad to close to the mercenaries, usually the employers show off a lot more striker and distant, at least at first. May this be a clever masquerade? If he were to lure the cut-throats into some sort of a trap then becoming a simple businessman was a perfect plan to get their unwarranted trust from the get-go. A smart fox he was indeed.
Shaking his head lightly Sinful pulled his hood more over his head, carefully adjusted his gloves over his hands so that they would fit more closely and glared at the noble secretly. He would lean forward and tell him that he has seen through the clever disguise and that he should show his true face, no need to sugar-coat anything, no need to seem saintly when you’re hiring the unwanted scum of the town to go on a trip that no sane professional solders would take. Show me your demons and I will greet you, fake me with a mask and I shall spit in the presence of your false promises. These thoughts kept circling Sinful’s fragmented mind as he got more and more irritated by the Highborn in front of him, only to completely disperse a minute later.
Once the lost tunnels were mentioned the distrust was completely shaken away by interest that was unwittingly caressed. The pyro had heard of the tunnels a few times, no doubt he even had the pleasure of using some of the substances or cheap wares that were smuggled into the town via those same tunnels, but not once did Sinfulblade manage to get anywhere close to any of the contraband routes. Not as if he tried very hard, but a few times when coinage was unusually low the thought of snapping a few smuggler necks for the goods which could be stolen did cross his mind.
“To steal something that’s already illegal”
The teal elf whispered to no one in particular and chuckled gleefully before slowly forcing himself to pay more attention to what was going on. The torture of listening to the usual serenade of “details” and “objectives” bored the pyro easily and he caught himself fantasizing about fire and sexual intercourse. Once he did notice his train of though Sinful began wondering would it be possible to have the later in the middle of the former. After that the tall khainate looked around and only now noticed that there were two females present in the room. Noticing this he began wondering whether they attracted him or not, but this too seemed to be an action that bored him quickly, so the gaunt mercenary turned back to the bottle, resting the faith of question askings, objective learnings and other important chit-chat to the other three party members. He would stick to what he did best; trying to unwind his own thoughts and when the times comes; bloodletting.
|Author:||Drainial [ Sun Dec 13, 2009 10:03 pm ]|
Lord Sultra waited for a moment to see whether anyone else would raise a question, but for the most part his new employees seemed happy to take a back seat and let Syjahel do the talking. That was too the good, they could keep the interview short.
"No specialist equipment will be required beyond a lamp, and I think I can provide that. As for directions, I believe that I can go one better. There is another young man I have recently taken into my service who has spent some small time in the tunnels guarding one of the, ah... entrepreneurs... who use them; he shall guide you. If you will excuse me a moment."
The highborn stood and went over to the door; opening it he spoke a few words to a waiting functionary who rushed away in a flurry of bootless footsteps, a slave then, though he could not be seen.
Returning to his chair Lord Sultra waited, fingers steepeld, simply watching the mercenaries with an air of curious interest, as of a gardener who has just found a rare and intriguing new insect in their garden.
He did not have to wait for long, within moments the door was opened in a broad, gaunt figure; heavily armed though lightly armoured. A shade perhaps, by the crossbow on his back.
"This is Ghost," Sultra said, indicating the mercenary with a wave of his hand "He will be guiding you,"
Ghost was followed closely by a slave baring a witch lamp, its illumination steady and bright.
"Well then, off you go. If all goes well return here and you shall be rewarded, if all does not go well... I think that’s best left alone."
The mercenary group, along with their new companion and silent torch bearing slave set off, winding through down through many levels of the tower till the windows vanished and the walls felt damp. The furnishings became less and less ornate, eventually disappearing entirely. They were underground now as anyone could see. Even those who had never been in a cave before could feel it; the weight of the earth above pressing down on them though the roof was as high as it had ever been.
The steps finished in a small round room, the walls were of undressed stone and the floor of the same kind, though worn flat by centuries of tramping feet. Behind the crew the stairs rose into the light, before them stood a gaping hole in the wall. Inky darkness stuck to it defying the bright torchlight, the keenest of eyes could not penetrate beyond a foot in the gloom. Without the lamp they would be lost. Never the less, there was no turning back now.
OOC: Ghost is Javert's character, I invited him originally and he had to decline but has since found that he has the time. The guide was originally going to be an NPC but it does not harm to do it this way. Enjoy the horrors of the tunnels, they are big enough for two abreast by the way and the room you are now in has nothing in it and is about fifteen feet square.
|Author:||Syjahel [ Tue Dec 15, 2009 4:04 pm ]|
Syjahel listened to the Lord's words with care. Beyond his undoubted charisma - and to this, the young Lady was not immune, though she was far too careful to regard him as anything other than a potential employer, for now - Sultra had as much to tell with what he did not say as the words that were spoken.
To go into the tunnels was an enterprise full enough of risk, but to do so in the company of an entire troupe of Shades would at least give her a chance of finding her way. The Hill Clans were famed for stealth and speed, and not one among them looked as fragile as she might have feared. The legendarily laconic nature of the Autarii seemed to hold true for all, as well - of those present only the strangely sickly-looking one spoke at all, Khalea keeping her counsel, and Malus adopting an expression - perhaps of disdain - that was obviously habitual. When Sinfulblade took to murmuring something to himself and laughing Syjahel turned sharply at the sound, to note his expression, whether of distracted pleasure or blank lust she couldn't quite be sure. Great. Just my luck to have fallen in with a madman. She resolved to keep an extra-careful eye on the tall stanger, as he was obviously unstable. The odds on this trip being successful were shortening. I just hope he can be relied upon to keep his head in a fight. And remember which ones are the enemy.
"Well met Ghost." she said, more in reflexive courtesy than any real hope of a reply. "My Lord, we shall hope to return soon, if Fate is kind ... well, let us seek to make Fate our own, at that. Until we next meet." With a click of her heels together in military fashion and a small bow of her head, the noblewoman lifted her shield and left with the rest of the group.
The pressing weight of the unseen earth above the lower levels was slightly disturbing, and the steady darkness made her think back, distractedly, to other times. Once in her youth her swordmaster had had the idea to train the young warrior in fighting in the dark, but the lesson had been given too young and she could not now remember how it had gone save for a lot of bruised shins and sundry pains. A good teacher, sadly missed when her father had disapproved of some of his extra-mural affiliations. Syjahel shrugged. At least he'd given her a lesson in keeping one's interests to oneself that she had not forgotten. That, and she'd best stick close to the slave with the witchlight. As much for her sake, she would try to keep him alive. Even the Shades couldn't see in pitch blackness.
"I'm at my best in a close fight - perhaps two of you would scout the tunnel ahead a little way?" Syjahel suggested. "I'd also like someone to keep a rearguard while I guard the light.
"I'm not your Captain, I merely say what makes sense to me; please, disagree if you wish, but speak up quickly - the less time we spend here, the better."
Syjahel will keep close to the light-slave, and try to make sure that he doesn't either get killed, or else panic and run at the first sign of trouble. She'll keep her sword drawn and shield up at all times. just waiting for that trouble. She doesn't imagine for a second that she can trust many of her companions, but she figures they'll see the sense of working together for now. Of all the Shades, she'd like to keep closest to Khalea, as Ghost is an unknown quantity and she doesn't trust the other two as far as she could spit 'em. All those funny looks will do that ...
OOC: Hello, welcome to Javert too! Feel free to disagree with my character's suggestions, just trying to move this along MessiahOfDeath, I don't think we have a set timetable for posts and there's no set order, I'm aiming for about once a day but I know people will have different timetables (and timezones - I'm in the UK) I'm just keen for roleplay!
|Author:||Mythic77 [ Tue Dec 15, 2009 5:58 pm ]|
Khalea listened to their potential employer, thinking ahead to the mission. She was thinking that this may not be as bad as she had originally assumed, since the main enemy would seem to be other Druchii. However, Khalea knew better to assume such so began to wonder what other opposition they may face.
Khalea unlimbered her crossbow, fitting a clip of bolts into the intricate weapon and readying the weapon for combat. She slipped past ghost into the tunnel, giving the shade a curt nod as she passed.
As Khalea entered the tunnel immediately was put at unease. The tunnel was small, barely wide enough for two people to stand wide, and it left very few places to hide. The light stuck out like a sore thumb in the utter blackness of the surrounding tunnels, and the small tunnel did not give very much room to manuver if they faced any sort of violent opposition.
Syjahel started giving orders and Khalea listened, Syjahel had been turning into the leader of their little band, and Khalea had no problem with that. She knew she was no leader, but rather a loner. Khalea nodded to Syjahel, agreeing with her plan and slipping ahead of the group, and more importantly, the light.
Khalea will scout ahead of the party, letting ghost lead and following Syjahel's plan. She will make sure to stay way ahead of the light, taking extra care not to be silhouetted by the lamp.
|Author:||Darkdoom [ Wed Dec 16, 2009 9:17 am ]|
He did not like the quantity of shades involved in this mission, he knew that made him more expendable in the eyes of the others,neither did he like Gost he just had a bad feeling about that guy. Back in the montains he was good with most other tribes and people but only few ever came to the citys, more raly for good reasons.
He heard the commands Syjahel gave. Well if she wants to be the leader she can be, he thought.He would have liked to seperate from the group (and the light) as well.He didn't trust his companions and thought himself an advantage in the dark, he did not rely on his eyes any more but on his ears and other senses. His crossbow would not be of mutch use as he could not see his taget. He allready enjoyed the silence and darkness circling around him. THIS was his world.
He suddently had an idea. "I'll make sure nothing is following us and that non of our lads get's lost. I'm gonna scout behind us." Without an other word he left the group.
Malus will follw the others in some (ca 50m) distance his senses sharpend and his sword ready.
|Author:||Javert [ Fri Dec 18, 2009 12:02 pm ]|
What am I doing in Vikarh? What? I've got no reason not to be in Vikarh. As I've already established, whoever that person was, it wasn't me, I have no reason to fear the consequences of his actions. In a single swift motion, the assassin drew a blade from the bandolier around his waist and drove it into the stone wall...well, attempted to do so with what strength he had. Certainty was what had you lost...don't let it fell you again. Two strikes on the door. Ghost approached the door and it was opened for him, revealing one of the snide functionaries of whatever creature he had found himself in the employ of along with a little beast with a torch. It appeared his presence was requested. With a slight inclination of his head beneath his mask he indicated he was prepared to go.
In the torchlight, the figure of Ghost for a rare ocassion was visible. He stood well clear of the six foot mark, though his build was not that of a warrior's much more lithe and indistinct beneath the dark clothing which consisted of what the shade's clearly recognised as a finely-weaved full-body darksuit along with silenced leather boots and gloves stretched tightly over his extremities. A broad set of shoulders characteristised his figure, the centrepiece of his appearance resting on his mantle. It was a midnight black cowl, it had an almost supernatural quality to it as even in this light it made the shape of his frame difficult to absolutely define. The cowl curled around the front and back of his shoulders as well as forming a hood that made one question how he could see - which was made even more questionable by the scarf that was tied around his face within the hood - but the most distinguishing and grandios feature of his particular item was sweeping black cloak that trailed behind it that although swept in that direction at this minute was of the size to conceal the shade's form in an instant.
However, it was not his attire that attracted the greatest attention of the mercenaries congregated in this noble's waiting room, no what their eyes would not leave were the weapon, as the maxim has no need repeating, true or not. What the mercenaries' eyes found immediately irritating was no weapons, not a single blade was immediately obvious, at first glance, he was unarmed. Then diverted carefully around the back of his belt, revealed with a slight change in the fall of the cloak was a collapsed repeater handbow, there was no crossbow visible on his person. Next the keen-eyed saw the shape of a short-sword on the back of his belt, though if it was there the sheath and guard in it's entirety was a dull black. And obvious only to the shades was a bandolier of six daggers tied around his upper waist, unsheathed, their blades covered in the autarii dullcoat, masking their shine.
As they made their methodical way down into the tunnels, accompanied by the helpful shade carrying the light, exchanging suggestions and greetings Ghost did not make a sound or acknowledgment. Once inside, and plans began to be made however it was clear that the stoicism was beginning to wear off, climaxing at the point that the one called Malus decided to turn around and scout back.
"There are a number of important things you must remember Malus. First of all, there is no sight down here without the witchlight, so you won't be able to tell if anything is following us before it slips right past you, cutting your throat in the process." Ghost said this very quietly, so it would depend how far Malus had got away from their ground by the time he said it. "Second of all, we came from the direction of the manor. I do not think that this Lord Sultra whatever manner of noble he is, sent us down to here only to send something to kill us after us. Assuming we succeed."
"It is not a complicated idea that those who are skilled in close combat enter the front most likely to enter close combat. The ones called Malus and Khalea can remain at the back with their crossbow. By all means, you other two guard this individual," indicating the slave, "from the front. I will stay by his side for now." Without further words Ghost pulled the collapsed handbow from his belt and quickly reformed and loaded it.
OOC: Promise: I won't make super long ones like this in future, I just thought I should give an introductory description of my character
|Author:||Messiahofdeath [ Sat Dec 19, 2009 9:48 pm ]|
Curiously gazing at his employer Sinfulblade sneered lightly. He noticed the curious scan that he gave the group of mercenaries and the slightly disturbed trainee couldn’t help but wonder as to how likely does the noble think a success could be achieved with such a group. Surely he had more professional soldiers for following his orders, soldiers that were a lot more loyal and experienced, yet obviously they were not as expandable. So just how dangerous might a quest like this be? How important to the highborn? Would a failure be an excruciating hit to the employer or just a mere nuisance? Either way, the sly reptile would have to pay him once he gets back and Sinful will return one way or the other.
The teal pyro slowly reclined in his chair as the rest of the group was standing up and heading towards the door. Unwilling to stop his examination of the noble just yet Sinful groaned unhappily as everyone pilled through the door and he was forced to follow, albeit reluctantly, but just as he left the room the gaunt khainate hissed and turned back, slowly making his way back to the table and grabbing the half empty bottle of wine. Grinning Sinful winked at the highborn before exiting the room once more.
The descent on long stairs and gradual decline into the murky depts. of the tunnels was more or less uneventful externally, however as the wine steadily decreased in the bottle Sinful found his mind to become less glazed up, alcohol surging through his veins actually made his thoughts sharpen and clear up, he finally took stock of the situation and mentally kicked himself for not jumping out of the wagon once he was clear of his assailants. Ahead of him lay a cold journey to who knows where for unknown amounts of coin, a very irritating prospect once you do not know what you have to do. Not to mention the fact that for some reason the pyro felt surrounded by amateurs, the thought hit him as one of the team rushed past everyone to guard the back of the team whilst the one he was mentally undressing earlier started giving out orders.
“On one particular point you did hit the chord of truth: you hold not the position of authority or trust, thus your orders resemble whispers in the winds”
Sinful hissed calmly before he gulped down the last drops of wine from the bottle and casually tossed it against the wall, the bottle shattering immediately though a dull echo resonated for a few seconds before it died down. Cracking his neck a few times the tall trainee fixed his scarf so that it would conceal his mouth and nose, whilst his hood took care of the rest of his face, this was a reply to everyone else unsheathing their weapons and getting ready for a predictable fight. Sinfulblade arrogantly refused to ready his weapons so quickly and resorted to casually crossing his arms behind his back. Filled with eerie confidence and inner pleasure that his scramble thoughts seem to get together coherently he stayed at the back of the group, although Sinful did not detach himself from them and stayed close to everyone, everyone so grotesquely illuminated by the whitchlight.
|Author:||Darkdoom [ Sat Dec 19, 2009 10:37 pm ]|
Though he heard the critic of the others Gost is paticular he was still happy with his decision: the lose of vision was not that devastating, his ears were sharpened by the darkness and he trustet in his ability to hear if anyboudy would come close. Or he would feel the vibrations of the earth or their heat with his skin.
No, not even he who distrusted all others thought that their employer would seend some one to follow them, not yet at last. His decision had two reasons he wanted to seperate from the group and he thought the possibility quite possible that some thing could get behind them (eg through a hidden passage) in which case they'd get owned.
Additionally he would be able to rush to any fight the group fought in a matter of secounds. He simply did not answer ignoring Gost.
A noise, against the silent as loud as an explosion, shattered his thoughts. He was already half way back to the group, his dagger ready to throw, when he saw th glance of glass an realised what happened. That fool Sinfullblade is a real danger to us! Everything closeby will have heard that, so much aout surprising our enemie,he thought lurking back in the darkness.
Listening for any noise Malus will stay 50m behind the group, ready to fight.
|Author:||Drainial [ Sat Dec 19, 2009 11:55 pm ]|
The small mercenary company appeared to be getting along as smoothly as could be expected, provided for course that one did not have very high expectations. Though several appeared content to follow Sajahel's lead others were of a more independent mind, and were less disposed towards discretion.
The shattering crash of a wine bottle against the cold stone walls echoed through the narrow network of caverns, possibly for miles, who could say how sound would behave in this place? So far from the forests and the streets above.
Eventually they set off, two brave souls splitting from the group, and beyond the reach of the witch lamp. Long minutes passed, the weight of the earth pressing down upon their souls. None of them would ever let it show, the fear, not of smugglers or blades in the dark but rather a less easily defined terror. The fear set into the bones, that you may not see the sky again or feel the kiss of a blade sharp breeze against your skin. To be sure some felt it more than others, some may even like it underground, but the fear is always there. No elf was meant to live beneath the earth, they thrived on the open plain, the mountain vale, the arboreal deaths of tangled forests and the thrashing landscape of the sea; not in dank tunnels cut off from all creation.
For many minuets the light tramp of booted feet upon the ground was the only sound that could be heard, would that it had remained so. Keen elven ears discerned a scurrying rustle behind the group. Just a figment of your imagination, leave it alone. The tramp of booted feet marched on. Again! To the fore this time, that scurrying rustle. Just a figment of your imagination, if there were any threat the scouts would know of it...surely.
In the end it was the scouts who first discovered what horrors dwelt in the dark. Malus had calmly disregarded any need for his eyes, he knew full well that his senses were as good as any elf's in the dark, and better than most. As good as any elf's true, as good as any elf's.
All was pitch and he could see nothing, only the light tread of his feet and the steady rise and fall of his breathing could be heard. The tunnels smelt dank and musty, of wet earth and stone, and something else. There was a tang in the stale air, almost like a dog, or a wolf, but surly there could be no wolves down here.
And then that rustle came again, that damned rustle. It was louder than before, and coming closer! Sword drawn the shade spun, slicing through the air at the place all his senses told him his adversary lurked. Elven senses are ill accustomed to the deaths of the earth, his blade swished through nothing and he knew for the first time a moment of panic. And rightly so, pain like fire raked across his left shoulder as claws tore open his skin. Only reflexes saved him, diving forward Malus distanced himself from his attacker and rolled to his feet. Alone in the dark it seemed he danced with Ghosts.
To the fore too there was trouble, Following Sajahel's orders Kalea plunged forwards into the blackness. Senses straining her muscles ached with the tension, in the darkness experience and blind luck would see her through if anything would.
Without the light to aid her she too was at the mercy of ears and nose, and neither let her down, at least not entirely. The maddening rustling, like rag dolls feet padding quickly across a cobbled street, had her on tenterhooks. The scent of the tunnels was well known to her by now and it was not long before she noticed that odd musk in the air, something amiss, something that should not be was there. She knew it, and yet could not see it, could not feel it; but she did know one thing, it was coming closer.
It was luck that saved her, luck and reflexes. There was no warning, nothing beyond the smell. Khalea could not repress a sharp yell as she was hammered to the ground by a large hairless body, slimy against her skin. There was no time to think, the shade pulled down on the trigger of her repeater reflexively and was rewarded by an inhuman snarl of pain. The body lifted off of her, padded feet stumbled away hurt. But the creature was not alone, as she struggled to rise she felt talons claw the air above her head; only by jerking back was she able to keep her nose where it was supposed to be.
Those few who had stayed by the witch light could here clashing and shouting from both sides, clearly something was happening, they were under attack. But from what or who was unclear. What was clear however was that if they did not want to lose their comrades so quickly they would have to act.
OOC:So both Malus and Khalea are about 50 meters away, Malus to the rear, Khalea to the fore. Malus has sufferd a flesh wound to the left shoulder and is on his feet about a meter away from his attacker, Khalea is on her back, ther are at least two attackers one wounded.
Oh, and there will be a prise for anyone who can guess what it is you fighting before you see them.
One last note, Messiah and Javert please put a summary of your actions underlined at the end of each post like everyone else has, it just makes my life easier, thanks.
|Author:||Mythic77 [ Sun Dec 20, 2009 3:17 am ]|
Khalea heard a smashing behind her, and couldn't suppress a wince at the noise, realizing that it was even worse in the tunnels then it would be on the surface. The tunnels seemed to collapse around her, and Khalea smelled an enemy just before it attacked..
Khalea smelled something, but could not figure out where it came from as she got knocked down. As she was knocked down she realized that she had made two mistakes. One, she had let her normal thinking guide her, and in the tunnels she realized that she could not maneuver like normal, that their was no hiding spots. Worse, she had assumed that her opponents would be limited in the same problems she was, which they obviously weren't.
Khalea got lucky with her crossbow, unleashing a bolt and driving her attacker off, but she realized that there was a second enemy.
Khalea will attempt to unload her crossbow at the enemies, hopeing that the narrow passageway forces her opponents to back up enough that she can get up. If she can get up, Khalea will discard her crossbow and attempt to use her sword to hold her enemies at bay as she makes her way back to the light.
|Author:||Syjahel [ Sun Dec 20, 2009 4:15 am ]|
Ah, 'attitude'. The last refuge of those who mistook poor temperament for strength of character, and hoped that everyone else would be so duped. Syjahel could not quite prevent a sigh from escaping her ruby-perfect lips when some of her new 'companions' thought it either novel, or in any case sufficient to pass as conversation. Fine. As if I haven't seen or heard all of that before. When you're quite done proving yourselves, gentlemen ... She'd stick close to Khalea. The Shade girl wasn't talkative either, but Syjahel was in no mood to converse, only to get the job done, so here was something they had in common.
It was a pity that so many of the others felt that her attempt to get them moving translated to 'orders'. But then, she reasoned, they were likely very junior Shades, used to being given orders whether they wanted them or not. Or perhaps - and here the young Highborn's natural sense of privilege warmed to another explanation - her inborn air of command shone through and of course, being new acquaintances, they had to show that they were not going to lie down without a fight. It was expected, It was the form of things. With a bit more thought, it was almost engaging. They would not have felt the need to assert themselves if her aura had been less worthy of it.
No-one ever accused Lord Kherandis' children of being modest Druchii.
As for lying down with or without a fight ... well, that tall teal one was frankly giving her lustful looks but though he wasn't shy, he was probably diseased - she still couldn't decide how he got that Khaine-damned unhealthy look; either some kind of pox, or maybe leprosy. A pity, that.
And so, warmed by her ego and sense of self, Syjahel continued along the tunnels, dodging the damp drips and cold draughts as best she could. This was a world away from being on campaign, a world from Khaine's clean killing fields, and she couldn't pretend she liked it. There was too much darkness. Best to assume hostiles everywhere, and from all directions - keeping an eye on the ceiling and floor at the same time would be impossible, but the paranoid Lord's daughter was going to try it anyway.
She was glad that. orders or no orders, the party had ended up in roughly the formation she'd suggested. The unnerving atmosphere was just beginning to wear on her nerves, when the clarity of adrenaline washed all that away. They were being attacked, and from both front and back as she'd feared. Both Malus and Khalea had been attacked by the sounds of things, Malus hadn't offended her with his silence but she could only go one way and it was Khalea she felt the most affinity to. So she shouldered her shield, raised her sword and hissed to the lamp-slave to stay close.
"Keep together! Don't let them split us up!" They could ignore her, of course, but she knew what she was going to do. Running forward to Khalea she could see that the more diminutive Autarii was on the ground, and two of the ... things ... were attacking her. Screaming a warcry the highborn leapt to her side.
Syjahel will get her shield up and stand over Khalea, attempting to keep off the enemy until she can get back onto her feet. She will concentrate on defending herself and the wounded Shade (and the lamp-slave, or else we're all blind). She'll go for opportune strikes or if she gets the chance, to bash one in the head with her shield. Her main priority is for Khalea to get back on her feet, then it will probably be time for close-quarter tunnel fighting. Defensive, for now.
Just remember that the lamp slave can only go one way and that will probobly be with the majority. I should have put it in the post but hey, just something to bare in mind.
|Author:||Darkdoom [ Sun Dec 20, 2009 8:26 am ]|
Adrenalin was pumping through his body. He narrowly had escaped death and was now fighting against a enemie who was faster and seemed to have less problems with the darkness, who had already wounded him. This is gonna be fun, he thought sincerly. Despite the pain, the shock and the pure happines of being in action again he tryed to analyse the situation: He was not sure if his left arm would still be able to support any weapon in this fight, so he could'nt use his crossbow; he couldn't flee because his enemie would out run him, not to talk of not wanting to miss the upcomming fight. He might be able to take on his enemie alone , but that was a high risk, knowing that with each secound his "friends" would come closer, time was on his side. He had heard the noise of a crossbow shoot from ahead so he knew that they were attact from both sides. So much to our rear being save because only the villa is behind us he thought, feeling supirior
Making one step back,pressing his back against the side of the tunnel, he got his dagger out of his boot with his left hand ready to throw it holding his swort with his right arm defensivly.
He'd let his enemie make the next move. If he'd attac him he'd deflect him with the sword and then trow the dagger, wating for the others to join the fight. Additionally this way he could learn more about his foe.
|Author:||Drainial [ Wed Dec 23, 2009 1:59 am ]|
OCC: Unfortunatly Javert is having to drop out, it seems he does not have enough time after all. But the main thing I wanted to say was that I will be posting tomorow whatever and in the future I am going to set a dedline for posting to see if we can speed things up a little.
|Author:||Messiahofdeath [ Wed Dec 23, 2009 11:22 am ]|
OOC: Sorry for holding things up yet again, but I had a few very stressful weeks with the holidays looming and I’m surprised that I was the only one bogged down in unfinished work. Either way I should be quicker with my future posts from now on.
Minutes passed, it seemed, slower than they would on the surface and the atmosphere of the cold undergrounds was taking its tool on the party Sinfulblade included. The idea of so many tons of ground above him did not scare the trainee per say, but it proved to feel extremely unusual to the elf as he felt somewhat uncomfortable and anxious, although he did managed to keep these feeling under control and discard them as simple mind tricks he could with time control. If he could slowly glue back the mosaic that was his mind then surely he could get used to the caverns.
Suddenly it happed… The sounds of struggles suddenly flared up from both the back and the front of the group and Sinful hissed stopping in his tracks. Glancing behind him the teal khainate shook his head, something was amiss, and how could they be attacked so soon, they barely managed to get away from the keep. Ho long were they walking? Or were the tunnels taking their toll and messing with his sense of time as well… It didn’t matter at that time, amateurs they may be, but keeping them alive for some time might be useful.
“Best to leave the slave in our currently occupied spot, so that…”
Turning around Sinful saw the noble’s daughter rush off to the fore and he cursed loudly shaking his head and turning his attention to the back where the sounds of fighting were still heard and it would seem his companion was still holding his own.
“We’ll see if darkness fears not a well wielded blade”
Crossing his arms over his waist the teal elf unsheathed both his bastard and his short sword in one fluid motion before he started to slowly walk in the opposite direction to where the noble ran. The left hand which held the short sword aimed downwards so that the tip of the sword would gently touch the ground and clatter and hiss brushing against the tiles as Sinful walked, whilst the right hand holding the bastard sword extended forwards and firmly parted the dark as Sinfulblade descended into the shadows.
Sinfulblade will attempt to slowly make his way towards the back, he will use his short sword to scrape against the ground emitting sharp noises and thus indicting to both his companion and foe(s) that someone is coming. Sinful will use his Bastard sword as an antenna of sorts to just slowly swipe left and right in order to make sure he wouldn’t stumble upon anyone. He will take his time and not rush it whilst staying in a more defensive stance at least as long as he knows not what he’s fighting.
|Author:||Drainial [ Wed Dec 23, 2009 4:34 pm ]|
Already the group was in trouble, separated, divided and under attack from unknown enemies a mere few hundred meters from the long stairs. It would take brains as well as brawn to see them through this.
Struggling to rise in the cloying darkness Khalea let of an un aimed bolt, if she scored a hit there was no evidence of it, she could not help but flinch as she felt talons score the rock beside her head, chips of stone flying into her face and granting her a dozen stinging cuts. Seconds later another bolt sliced through the air, from somewhere in the gloom the prostrate shade heard a squeal not of pain, but of surprise and the scampering of feet as the unseen creature scuttled backwards.
She only had to hold on for so long, help was coming. Chivvying the slave along and readying her shield Sajahel charged forwards, the whitchlight bobbing behind her. Shrugging his shoulders Ghost said nothing but followed the light and the safety it offered.
Though it seemed a world away Kahlea was not far distant and like Aenerion the two mercenaries brought light into the dark places. Neither would forget what they saw when the witch lamp cast its bright blue tinged beam on the scene of battle.
Three creatures were gathered there, and creatures they were for none present could place their species. The beasts were formed like elves sculpted out of clay by a child working from very shaky descriptions. Each stood a little shorter than the average elf, perhaps 5, 7" in height. Across the shoulders they were broad though ribs showed through their skin so thin were they. None wore a single thread of clothing, nor was a single hair to be seen upon them. Their skin was pale and brown, like snow thawing on a muddy field and trampled by oxen, slightly mottled with darker patches. For all their seeming emaciation there could be no doubting the strength of their arms for they were huge, corded muscles bulging. At the end of each limb they showed the claws which could cleave the very rock, long and thick they seemed natural enough, made from yellowed bone, but there could be no doubting their lethal power. Their heads were perhaps most disturbing of all. Beast men of the forest often had the heads of goats, deer or wolves, those that dwelt beneath the earth had the hairless heads of moles, short snouted and all but eyeless.
With the appearance of the light all three squealed with surprise and terror, and like many a wounded and terrified beast, they attacked. One of the mole things leapt for the slave, claws outstretched. Luckily for both the slave and the group at large this meant taking a path directly over Kahlea. With her shield before her Sajahel had rushed to protect her new found comrade. With a crash the claws scraped down the noble ladies shield scoring deep groves in the surface. Though the impact knocked her back a step Sajahel responded with an overhead slash, overextended and un-armoured the mole beast screeched at cold Naggrothi steel bit deep into its shoulder.
Kahlea used this time to scramble to her feet.
The other unwounded creature too was maddened by the whitchlight flung its self forward, this time it was Ghost who stepped forward, shield less he was forced to meet claw with blade and the crunch and clang of bone on metal resounded through the caverns. The shade was good with his blade, damned good, but the beast was bezerk and soon he was bleeding from a dozen minor wounds and gasping for breath. He realised then that he would die in this place, if not now in combat then alone in the dark, bleeding his last. He could imagine no more terrible end, opening his arms Ghost smiled as eight claws, four from each hand, plunged into his chest; with a gurgling grin he raised his arm one last time and plunged it straight through the atrophied eye of this strange horror. Both fell to the ground, embracing in death.
The final creature, bleeding from a crossbow bolt piercing its thigh, seemed in no mood to fight, squealing and bawling it half ran, half stumbled down the passage leaving a trail of dark blood upon the floor.
Back down the passage Malus drew a dagger from his boot and tried desperately to hear anything over the sound of his own breathing and hammering heart. The stink of the beast was everywhere now, and would probably cling to his clothes long after he had left the place. He felt, more than heard, the thing coming closer and saved his head by ducking under unseen claws. The talons clunked into the wall and Malus seized upon this one clear sign of its presence. Lashing out at where he thought the arm must be he was rewarded with a cry of pain and a gush of warm blood splattering onto this chest. He had nicked an artery, must have done for the blood to have sprayed so far and copiously.
It was then that he heard a sound he should have expected, and feared, the sound of more rustling in the dark, more things coming for his soul. The pattering came closer only to stop, suddenly, as a new sound was added to the mix. A low grinding of steel on stone heralding the approach of Sinfulblade. The elf advanced blind down the tunnel, sword probing ahead for enemies and walls.
This might have foiled another elf in the dark, but facing the tunnel stalking fiends it was an empty gesture. He heard the patter of feet come closer and braced himself, guarding himself as best he could with this sword, trying to keep enemies at arm’s length. The shadowy form in the utter dark slipped behind this guard with ease, Sinful gasped as he felt the air moving behind him and tried to turn, to strike. He hissed again as a strip of skin was torn from the back of his neck, and was glad he had moved when he did. Sinfulblade lashed out with his sword, seeking the place his attacker must be, it was closer than he thought. Though his sword did not bite his elbow found a part of the thing's body which felt somehow... soft, the cry from the darkness was the shrillest yet as the unseen beast staggered away.
OOC: Ok so Ghost is dead, Sajahel and Kahlea are with the light about a hundred meters away from Malus and Sinfulblade, sajahel is in close combat with the one remaining mole man up that end. There are at least two creatures fighting Malus and Sinfulblade in the dark, one has a wounded arm the other bruised genitals and Sinful has (do you mind me calling him that MessiahOfDeath?) a superficial wound on the back of his neck.
No one guessed what you were fighting so no prises, I would have accepted beast men or mutants, mole men were a little hard to guess.
Because of Christmas and the unpredictability it brings I will not set a deadline this time, but let’s see if we can get another mod post in before Christmas (ambitious I know, but worth a try I think)
|Author:||Mythic77 [ Thu Dec 24, 2009 4:05 am ]|
Khalea scrambled to her feet, taking a split second to recover from her near dismemberment. Her cheek stung, and she couldn't help but shake at how close she had come to death. It certainly wasn't the first time she had nearly died in her life, and wasn't even the closest she had come to death, but it shook her all the same.
She heard a scraping down the hallway, even over the sound of battle. The scraping of metal over stone, and Khalea wondered what it was. Khalea couldn't think of a reason for it, except for an armed or armored body being dragged across the ground, which did not bode well for the two members who were unaccounted for.
Fortunately, Syjahel had brought the light slave so Khalea could see the creatures she had fought, seeing the beastman combat her two companions. They were ugly beasts, though even unarmed they managed to press the group of druchii. Khalea had not intention of letting one of them hit her with those claws of theirs, as she had already seen them chip the very stone.
Khalea saw Ghost's death, and she cursed out loud, as already a member of their party had fallen. In the split second she had used to recover Ghost had died, and now Khalea acted. Almost like a switch had been flipped in her head, Khalea snapped back to action, dropping her crossbow, discarding the ranged weapon so she could draw her sword. The short sword was not so short to the diminutive Druchii, and Khalea gripped it with two hands are she charged in to help Syjahel.
"Ghost is down" Khalea said coldly, her focus entirely on the battle at hand. She moved around the two combatants, trying to get a good angle to attack the last remaining beastman while making sure to support the noblewomen who just saved her life."Hold its attention so I can finish him off"
Khalea will move in to help Syjahel, attempting to flank the remaining enemy on Syjahel's shield side while watching in case any more show up. She will fight aggressively, trying to kill the enemy quick so that she can turn her attention back down the tunnel. [/b]
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