Group 28

[Syjahel]

Syjahel had the attention of the attackers now and she intended to make the most of it. Ducking low under one swing and threading her way around another she took a blow on her shield (but this was not the veteran of so many fights and broken teeth ...) and took advantage of the distraction caused by the falling retainer. It wasn't much, but it was enough to allow her to disengage and take to her heels, running through the corridors of the towers she knew so well.

Swiftly, she led her pursuers along the route from the main chambers. It made her feel uneasy to leave the battle behind, but this way she could at least divide their forces, if only a little. She ducked into the narrower corridor leading to the servants' area with a grim smile on her face. This was where her misspent childhood was going to be worth far more than idle curiosity.

As the first two came around the corner she struck out at one and attempted to hit the other with her shield, hoping to knock them off balance. She'd aimed to get one to run around the corner and into her sword, but this would do. Aiming to incapacitate her attackers and keep running, she struck again,


Use the terrain to her advantage - trip, pull carpets, use blind turns, make sudden changes in direction etc - aiming to incapacitate rather than necessarily kill, because that is good enough to get them out of the fight. (Not to say she'd turn down a kill.) Then if this works, go back for more. Harrying the flanks.

[Vaari]

As the fingers fell like leaves in a storm, Seijl pressed home the attack. A wounded dog would be twice as dangerous, gaining the first blood would not allow the stoic shade to rest on his laurels. The fury in his opponents cry of pain showed that all complacency was gone from the fight, his arrogance mitigated by the loss of digits.

"Those dainty fingers will make a nice necklace, or possibly I'll just feed them to your children. They would be such a treat to one whose miserable existence is to rot in the squalor of a kennel."[b] Taunts were not of Seijl's usual repartee, but the shade knew he had to keep the shadow warrior unbalanced. If he managed to keep his focus the fight would draw out for too long, something that needed to be avoided if the blood coming from Jack's companion's chest was anything to go by.

[b]"When you sold yourself to the false king, did they give you enough gold to buy a dwarf? Maybe those fat sausages will be able to hold a blade better than these." Seijl annunciated his point by grinding one of the fallen digits with his heel. Taking a crouch, Seijl cemented his position over the fallen fingers as if guarding a prize. With his shield hovering over his knee, Seijl let his long blade hang loose behind him. All he needed now was the traitor to take the bait...

Seijl taunts, takes up a defensive position over the fingers. If the warrior charges, he will roll out to the side, drop the sword and will charge with shield and the dark venom dagger into the warriors back. If he doesn't charge, he will switch targets, feinting to go 2 on 1 with Leifon to draw the shadow warrior back in to the fight.

[Carathyle maveric]

Slowly shifting might have been the most stupid thing Carathyle has ever done, yet it repaid dearly in blood and screaming. Dents, scratches and noise were caused by the Maibed’s knives as they skittered off the chainmail and plates that covered his body. Slowly, even though it took a lot of dare and unorthodox movements, Carathyle managed to get in the offensive, as he lunged out with his free hand to grasp the she elf’s wrist. Even though his elbow was only protected by a Khaitan, Carathyle didn’t give the scarred elf a chance to attack. Stepping forth while pulling the beautiful bride of Khaine closer, his aim was death and death was handed out to his enemies. As the steel long sword punctured her heart, her veins and her bones, the two faces were as close as they could get to each other in battle. “Tell your friends at Khaine that Carathyle Maveric was home for once!” he whispered for her to hear, before pulling the sword back, and pushing the maibed back. Dropping to the ground in a scream, the Witch elf’s last breath was drawn and Carathyle couldn’t help but smile.

Even though the battle had gotten the noble out of breath, which hadn’t happen in a long time, Carathyle figured now would be the best of time to get to the lever and shut the damn gate, before any more of Khaine’s walking disaster areas entered the compound. Despite the fatigue of combat, Carathyle ran to it, pushing it back into locked position. The image he had of his mother was wrecked as well as all damn respect that he had for her. You played my father, you betrayed me as well. It’s not an excuse for that man to treat his only heir that way, but at least now I understand what happened. Now… I accept my heritage of my bloodline. He thought, looking from the corpse of his mother, toward the still on-going battle. Let’s hope he can maintain his foothold, just for now. Carathyle thought as he saw the last two of the four guardsmen fight for their lives against the savage foes. Quickly though, Carathyle figured that this would not be the case, as one of them was already wounded. With a sword in hand, Carathyle knew that frenzy had the nasty side effect of not defending, and not paying attention other than for their foe, which was exactly what he was planning on using. Coming up from behind, he figured that as long as the guard could keep the Brides preoccupied, it might go as planned.

Carathyle will walk toward the on-going battle between the guards and the witch elves, trying to stab them from behind while relying on their frenzy to kill their current opponent, instead of going for him.

If Carathyle gets the opportunity, he’ll finish the Maibed as fast as possible with a quick stab through her spine, making sure she won’t move one bit before going for the other one.

[Meteor]

In a flash, it all came back.

A chill ran down his spine as the realisation came to him, that sinister smile, his prey, he had found him at last. Jacks couldn't help but return a wolfish grin, he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

Jacks was wary of this adversary, if the previous ones were anything to go by. He was fortunate to had only faced one back in the forest, their short duel told Jacks more than a thousand words could.

He was disturbed by this illusion, and he guessed everyone else was under the same spell elsewhere.

"Where is everyone? I wonder if they're alright? Is this, even real?"

"Where are the others? Jacks demanded, "And dispel this illusion from us, let us finish this with a clean duel"

Jacks laughed at his own statement.

A clean duel? What is clean about Druchii?

He spared one last look at Tiarra and Seijl still struggling behind him, tightening his grip on his weapons, Jacks charged into the maws of death.

Jacks will throw a dagger at the last moment, aiming for the face to force him to duck, thus looking away from Jacks momentarily. Jacks will follow it up with a sweep to the ribs with his short sword whilst drawing his Repeater Handbow with his now free offhand after throwing the dagger. If Jacks has time, he will try and pop a shot off at him at point blank range.

Basically wanting to use the thrown dagger as a distraction to get close enough to shoot his Handbow at point blank range. The short sword attack is to keep his sword in place so that there wouldn't be an unexpected swipe at this squishy Shade

[Cananatra]

The fight seemed to be going as his half formed expectations indicated, though Cananatra still had no idea where those expectations were coming from. The pain from the blows he deflected wasn’t all that extensive, but it had a strange duel quality, as if he had not only experienced it, but experienced it twice, once a long time ago. Luckily the fight seemed to be going more in his favour as his sword, along with that of his ally found blood.

Despite the new perforations the chieftain seemed rather jovial. It isn’t often you end up fighting someone who quite literally laughs at pain. It was rather disconcerting. Perhaps he wants a bit more entertainment. Usually I’d hesitate to entertain a chaos worshiper, but in this instance I would make an exception.

Casting a glance towards the corsair as the chieftain retreated he was glad to find him still in one piece, the sea dragon cloak having worked remarkably well at saving his hide. Hoping the Druchii knew a good move when he saw it, Cananatra stepped forward towards the chieftains weapon arm.

Cananatra will engage the chieftains weapon and hopefully leave him open for the corsair to gut.

[Drainial]

Syjahel

Striving to keep the advantage of surprise Syjahel struck out at her followers as they rounded the corner lashing out with both shield and sword. Her blade was parried, just, by an opponent either skilful or lucky. Unarmoured and without a shield of his own however the second warrior was knocked backwards by the force of Syjahel's shield and stumbled to one knee, blood streamed down his face from a broken nose not to mention a split lip and likely a fractured jaw. The first warrior struck back forcing Syjahel to defend herself but for now the advantage was with her, taking a blow on her upturned shield she sliced through the elf's leg hamstringing him and leaving him to fall to the floor. Now though the second elf was back on his feet, it was time to go again.

Dashing down the corridor Syjahel dived right down another hallway, this one more richly appointed. Her eyes lit upon an old statue a little way along, she had never liked the ugly thing. Ducking behind it Syjahel waited a moment for the injured elf to follow her, when he was in close she heaved. To his credit the Xalkhis swordsman was not slow to react when he saw seven feet of masonry toppling towards him, but not quite fast enough. The statue was lighter than it looked but it was far from light, the marble arms of a marble ork shattered his legs and left him easy prey for the warrior princess. Once he was dead the question became what to do next? These few warriors were dealt with but more needed to be done to save her house.
Seijl

Taunting the Shadow Warrior and hoping that the elf understood his hill clan accented Druck Eltharion Seijl took up position over the severed fingers. He was counting on the fury of the nomadic warrior to burn hotter than his own; cold hatred you could use, hot hatred used you. Naggaroth could cool even the hottest of fires in a way that the soft plains of Ulthuan never would. So it proved, the elf let loose a blistering array of lunges as slashes but Seijl was a master swordsman and with buckler and blade he kept the elf's steel away from his skin. It was not the sword which would win this fight however but cunning. Timing would be everything as Seijl read a deep thrust the Asur's eyes. Dropping his master crafted blade Seijl rolled out of the way and to the right. As he rose his long delicate fingers curled round the hilt of another, small weapon but one deadlier in its way. In a single swift motion Seijl plunged his dagger into the Shadow Warrior's thigh before pulling it out and darting back. It was an insignificant wound and for a moment the elf seemed hardly to realise he had been struck. Infuriated he rounded on Seijl with a snarl, it was not to last. Before the Asur could try once again to spill good Naggarothi blood his snarl turned to a rictus of pain and suddenly a howl like nothing mortal was ripped from his lips, as though he were in a pain so extraordinary no elf could imagine it. It was perhaps a mercy even for a traitor such as he that the pain lasted only until death and that the arms of Mori Heg were swift in coming.

With his opponent down Seijl retrieved his sword and looked to see how the fight was progressing. Leifon in her wounded state was not doing so well, though she fought on it was clear that the Shadow Warrior she faced had gained the upper hand. The death of the Asur he had just killed had tipped the numbers in favour of the Druchii however, unless something extraordinary happened the day looked likely to be theirs...
Carathyle

Two guards still remained fighting witch elves showing either skill or luck in great abundance, Carathyle now knew that the tales of Maibed's martial skill and ferocity were not mere fables. He also knew however that unthinking aggression had its downsides and perhaps the greatest of these in this kind of fight was a lack of awareness of your surroundings. Moving towards the nearest combat Carathyle prepared to take full advantage of this weakness, it was what Druchii did. The maibed he selected was certainly winning, though the guard had no serious wounds his face and arms were not unmarked and with the poisons Witches almost always coating their blades in that meant that soon or late he was a dead elf walking. There might have been nothing Carathyle could do to save the elf but that wasn't really his problem, killing the maibed was good enough an outcome.

As Carathyle came within striking distance the poisons coursing through the guard's system finally began to tell, his guard slipped and those cursed knives swept in to ravage his flesh still further. Unfortunately for the devotee of murder this was more than distraction enough for Carathyle who made a single text book lunge from behind. His blade angled upwards through a lung and into the heart, it was a form only possible when the enemy had their back to you but it allowed for no possibility of recovery, she died without a sound.

death is the gift sought by Khaine's pretty brides

Unfortunately all was not well further afield. Ferion was finding his new opponent quite a handful and though he had not taken any injury nor had the maibed. Coreleth was doing better using his sheer armoured bulk to batter the witch elf into retreat, with her aggressive momentum broken the noble lord had the upper hand and after hard fighting succeeded in burying his blade to the hilt in her near naked torso. The same could not be said for the final living guard as he quickly lost that title with a knife in the eye. Turning her gaze on those remaining the witch elf went for the closer target, Coreleth.
Jacks

The truth hit Jacks like a flash of lightning but in truth it changed little, he still had a dog to put down whether it was an Asur traitor or a Dalvian kidnapper.
"Where are the others?" Jacks demanded, "And dispel this illusion from us, let us finish this with a clean duel" his only answer was a mocking smile from the Dalvian and a concerned glance from Tiarra at his side.

Determined to wipe that smile off of his enemies' face Jacks let his handbow hand by his waist as he slowly edged towards his enemy. The Dalvian stood in a high guard with his bastard sword, ready for almost anything. From past experience Jacks knew that this elf was dangerous, very dangerous. Already they had duelled once and Jacks' had come off the loser despite having given the Dalvian a new facial decoration to impress the ladies with. Then he had had the element of surprise, he would need the same now but he had no forest to leap out of. Instead Jacks' hand flashed to a sheath at his waist and sent a small dagger flying though the air. Quick as an eel the silvered sword flashed out and sent the dagger on its way with a clang but it had only ever been meant as a distraction. Leaping in Jacks slashed upwards into the elf's stomach, it should have been a killing blow, by rights it ought to have been but instead of robes and skin Jacks' blade bounced off thick armour, the elf's Asur clothes vanished revealing the Dalvian in his full regalia.

The surprise of this was so great that Jacks was hard pressed to block a return blow from on high, the Dalvian was clearly not playing anymore and as his blows rained down Jacks' was at the limit of his talent keeping them from his skin. Desperately he took up his handbow again and snapped off a shot into the elf's chest but it failed to do more than knock him back a step. Still this gave Jacks a chance to step back and compose himself. The first clash had lasted mere seconds but they showed him that to kill this fiend would be a worthy feat. Tiarra was no doubt confused in the extreme but in her eyes this was an Asur, furthermore it was an Asur who had tried to kill her and no good Druchii lass would put up with such. With a short sword in each hand she flew at the Dalvian from the side like a scolded cat forcing him momentarily onto the defensive. Jacks knew though that she was no match for the Dalvian anymore than he would have been back when he was this age, as it was with all his experience he was barely a match for the retainer. Bringing down this foe would take brains as well as brawn.

Cananatra

Slightly disconcerted by the human's reaction to injury Cananatra was heartened by the blood already spilt, he was certainly eager to spill some more. Signalling to the nameless corsair as best he could Cananatra stepped in again and swept his sword up at the chieftain’s flail arm seeking to create a gap into which his ally could strike, it didn't quite go to plan. As Cananatra's sword soared the chieftain’s other hand flashed out seizing the blade. Two fingers were severed entirely and the palm was near cut in two by this odd move and yet the human only laughed all the harder. With a hard wrench the human pushed Cananatra's blade away and in a move as deft as any elf's he twisted his entire body round on the balls of his feet. This unexpected move saw the corsair's sword slide harmlessly through thin air but he was not done yet, the momentum of the turn gave the chieftain’s outstretched flail immense power along with a fearsomely strong arm and the impact sent the elf flying through the air. Cananatra doubted he would rise again.

This however was a dangerous thing to do and it gave the elven warrior all the time he needed to strike for himself. The chieftain was side on to him as Cananatra struck, his sword plunged through naked tattooed skin and into the man's stomach. Wrenching it free Cananatra watched with malicious glee as guts and intestines began to slide out of the chieftain’s body and onto the blood slick deck.

The human was not laughing now but neither did he scream. Turning the chieftain suddenly looked calm. The flail dropped from his fingers and with his one good hand he fumbled for the chain around his neck, even without looking Cananatra somehow knew what it looked like, its twin at his hip was still burning with a cold fire. In a last gesture of defiance the human cast his amulet at Cananatra, it hit him square on the chest and then...

The air was scented, a musky perfume thick enough to cloy but it was not quite strong enough to mask the stench of blood. Opening his eyes Cananatra found himself lying on rocky ground. Getting to his feet he looked around him. The world was split, quite literally. The sky above was a roiling maelstrom of storm clouds to the west, a pink and orange sunset to the east and where the two met was no transition but a jagged line. The ground too was halved, under his right foot pink and purple quartz stretched as far as the eye could see with not a shred of vegetation. Under his left the ground was rocky but not wholly so, grass grew in large parts, small trees and shrubs dotted the ground too. It was the buildings which most arrested his attention however, two of them each standing a little way into the respective lands.

They looked to be shrines, or at least they followed the usual design of such things as Druchii understood them, small domed structures with statues on either side of a high yet narrow door. If they had the same basic shape that was where all similarity ended. The eastern shrine on Cananatra's right was made of deep purple marble with golden threads running through and a golden roof. The statues by either side of the door were nude, one a male the other female and both were of unutterable beauty. Despite their loveliness their poses were little short of obscene and the very sight of them sent a dirty thrill though Cananatra's soul. Above the portal a rune was engraved, one Cananatra knew all too well, the rune of Slaanesh. As he looked at the shrine the amulet at his hip no longer burned but rather throbbed with a golden pleasure, warm and inviting.

The western shrine was the night to this bright day, the walls were black with threads of dark red, the dome above was bronze as were the statues beneath. One of the statues was nearly as naked as the Slaaneshi however this was not debaucher but a holy miabed while the other was a proud executioner. The very sight of this shrine gave Cananatra, not normally an overly religious elf, a strange feeling of bravery and pride beyond any he had known before. In contrast to the rune of Slaanesh the sigil of Khaine sat above the open door. Gazing on this rune made the amulet flare as it had never done before almost freezing Cananatra’s leg solid.

There was no one else in sight and so Cananatra jumped and went for his sword as a voice came into his head. In fact it felt like two voices but they both said the same thing
'Come to me' one voice was deep and commanding, a master and father; the other was sultry and seductive like a temptress or siren. Cananatra’s hand closed on nothing, there was no sword at his waist. In fact now he came to look all of his arms and armour were gone leaving him in nothing but a loincloth with the amulet still dangling down his outer thigh. Gazing around Cananatra could see nothing and no one who could have spoken, indeed nothing other than a few small trees stood within site in any direction save for the shrines.

-Drainial

[Carathyle maveric]

OOC: I won't be around for the upcoming weekend, and I haven't gotten any time to work on the post, so I'm going to quickly post the summary alone as good and logically as possible.

IC:
After picking up the dagger from the surprised Maibed, Carathyle will throw it toward the running one, hoping to embed the blade into her back or at least scratch the surface of the witch. When he throws, he'll have the hilt in his hand, his longsword in his left hand.

Directly after the throw, he'll run for Coreleth or Ferion, aiding them if the witch is dead. If not, he'll try and catch up with her. If he doesn't and she reached her target, Carathyle will repeat the death of the previous Maibed victim of his.

OOC: My apologies and have a nice weekend, back by Sunday afternoon.

[Syjahel]

Syjahel took down the last of the opposing invaders who'd followed her with the aid of a statue. I never liked that one much, anyway, she thought sourly, relieved at least at finding a use for the decoration. Cleaning her blade on a handful of the bridal guest's silks she straightened and began to stalk back to the great hall.

The trouble was that she was running out of imagination. It wasn't as if she could call in the city watch - so long as the noble Houses weren't burning the city down, or wantonly weakening it in the face of rivals, the Drachau didn't care what they did to each other behind closed doors. As she walked Syjahel tried to think of something, anything as she kept an alert eye out for more trouble. House Vasht had no particular allies within the Covenant of Sorceresses, but -

Wasn't the girl-child to be trained as such?

She shook her head, angry with all these fragments. She had no children - bastard children were rightly the shame of a great noble House - and she certainly wasn't of the Sorcerous kind herself. At the back of her mind, Syjahel felt another pressing urgency. Someone had to be found.

Who and what remained elusive and the thought evaporated as she got within hearing distance of the wild melee. For want of a better plan the warrior-woman prepared to charge in and nip at their flanks again, as a nauglir will harry a pack of wolves it wants to deprive of their kill. This time though, she planned to lead her opponents on a chase in the direction of the one of the guard barracks. If there proved to be guards to assist, she'd lead them back to the main fight. If not, well, at least she'd find out why there were no more guards.

Same again, this time anyone who follows is coming in the direction of (hopefully) reinforcements.

[Vaari]

OOC: Cananatra and my modpost are some of the best you have written, I enjoyed the hell out them.

IC: The ruse worked. While the traitor had been swift and competent, he lacked the discipline and focused rage that burned within a druchii's superior breast. The tide had turned to the small group of shades favour, Seijl had faith that he and his kind could handle what was left of the intruders. It was only in battles like this that Seijl felt like that he belonged to something greater than himself, that the bonds forged in these test of skill and strength proved to any doubters the empirical right that the druchii had in calling themselves superior.

As his eyes cast over the bloodstained field, a pang reached at his heart. It was a disconcerting feeling, for a moment Seijl felt a weakness pass over him. There was something missing from this moment that left a bitter taste when all he should be feeling was the sweetness of the victory. Quickly scuttling to regain his fallen blade, Seijl pondered what was causing him... distress for lack of a better word. The small victories hollowness plagued him, like so many loss thoughts had recently.

Looking over to Jack's fervent assault on his opponent, the reason for his malaise struck him. The disconcertingly familiar shade inspired an emotion that did not often come to Seijl, admiration. His companions were weak, that they could not handle the intruders was proof of that. However in Jacks Seijl saw a temerity in the elves character and attacks that drew him to him against his cautious nature. Here Seijl saw what could be a brother in battle. Clearing these thoughts from his mind, Seijl went to engage the next warrior, before he bested another of druchii, weak or no. Once this battle was over there would be time for him to assess his situation and with who he could throw his lot in.

Seijl picks up his sword and goes to help Leifon.

[Meteor]

Sucking in air greedily, Jacks was shaken, the exchange of blows only lasted a few mere seconds, and yet it was nearly the last few seconds he had left to live. The sword strike didn't go the way he had planned, the fact it didn't cause the Dalvian to block it, had nearly costed Jacks his life as the counter attacks came.

His body started shaking, Tiarra leaped into combat, the foolish girl, always so hot headed.

"What is he? Is this, fear? Damn it all, I can't think!"

Jacks only now, fully understood what Seijl must've felt when they fought the Lamia back then. They barely survived on teamwork back then, and now he was alone, and had brashly challenged this monster to a single duel, had he consigned himself to his death?

Will he stain his honour by asking for help? Or die with his honour intact?

"At least, I'll be with Tiarra again."

Seeing her now, even in this warped memory of his, it was a pleasant moment, despite the circumstances. He cannot watch her, let her die a second time when he could help.

"Lets do it. Living a life without honour is meaningless anyway." he mumbled as he charged in.

Jacks is going to attack his legs whilst he's preoccupied with Tiarra. Drawing a second dagger in place of his Short Sword, he's going to try and draw blood around the knee joint. I'm assuming he's armoured like a knight, including the legs, so we're aiming to go for a gap at the knee.

Engage and keep probing him with shots until we create an opening in his guard. Once through, bury the dagger as deep as possible and leave it lodged in. Hopefully it'll cause his armour to get caught, and if he becomes unbalanced, try and disarm him.

Otherwise draw Short Sword again and signal Tiarra to move back, keeping our distance from the Dalvian, ready for the next attack

[Cananatra]

It was quite a rush seeing the chieftain gutted, even if it had cost the life of the other corsair. Unfortunately the chieftain once again refused to die and Cananatra prepared to attempt to take his head, perhaps this time to stop him. However the chieftains actions gave him pause. Rather than continuing to attack or falling dead he dropped his weapon. It clearly wasn’t weakness, the chieftain was staring calmly at him but he obviously needed a working arm and the flail was in the way. Slowly he reached up to the chain around his neck and pulled it clear. Before the symbol even appeared Cananatra knew what it was. It was that amulet he had tied at his waist. A slight feeling of dread gripped him as it came free as it is decidedly disconcerting to see two instances of the same thing and he knew they were the same thing.

The amulet arced through the air and fell against his chest. He was half expecting something spectacular and wasn’t sure if he was amused or disappointed by the reaction. There was no flash, no interesting light sound or feeling but everything did change. Suddenly he was far from where he had been, or at least it seemed that way. The air was thick with mixed scents, perfume covering blood and other less identifiable smells. As he took a second breath his memories rushed back causing him to smile slightly. It wasn’t often that you got to kill the same person twice. Now, is this part of that messed up reality I was stuck in by the damn Dalvain?

Lifting himself off the ground where he lay he looked around. To one side, and it was a distinct side, stood a temple to who could only be Slaanesh. The amulet glowed warmly, which was more disconcerting than anything else as it never had before. To the other side was a temple of Khaine, the amulet flashed cold when looking that way. He was also almost naked.
“Oh so I have a choice here.” he spoke aloud into the empty air. Glancing between the two the amulet continued to alter between warmth and bitter cold. Amused he glanced quickly between the two over and over to see how fast the amulet could change. Laughing for what seemed like the first time in weeks he slapped the amulet and spoke “That’s cheating and you know it.”

Now he paid attention he could hear two voices whispering in his head, a somewhat unpleasant sensation; each urging him to join them. Clearly Khaine and Slaanesh both wanted his soul.
“Well Khaine, you’ve had my soul, of a sort, since the day I was born and I don’t really have much to show for it.”
Turning he stepped off the divide and walked calmly towards the Slaaneshii shrine.

Choice made, Slaanesh it is.

[Drainial]

Carathyle

Reacting quickly to the swiftly changing situation Carathyle carefully picked up one of his latest opponent's many daggers and hurled it at the back of the witch charging towards his father. Spinning through the air the blade smacked into the back of the maibed's thigh, not a killing blow though hardly pleasant for a normal person. The impact barely slowed the frenzied she elf though and she howled to the heavens as she began her assault on Coreleth. With witch elf daggers though the blade was only half the danger and even as Carathyle began to charge after her the poisons were working their way through her system. Coreleth held his own though not without difficulty but within moments the witch elf's screams of battle joy gave way to a ghastly gurgle. She began foaming at the mouth and stumbled backwards before Coreleth ended her suffering with a sweep of his sword. With this done only one witch elf remained, the one facing off against Ferion. Carathyle changed course to aid his tutor but in any case the old sword master was gaining the upper hand. Blood now sheathed one of the maibed's alabaster flanks. Charging in from behind Carathyle ended the conflict with a single overhand slash which severed her spine.

With the final witch elf dead and all the guards as well only three elves remained alive in the courtyard; Coreleth, Carathyle and Ferion. Clearly still greatly on edge despite Carathyle's recent aid Coreleth was quite rightly on guard. Keeping his sword out and ready he turned his attention to Carathyle
"Who are you and what are you doing here?" he demanded, his manner as haughty as Carathyle remembered.


Syjahel

Strange thoughts went through Syjahel's mind as she headed back towards the great hall; she was used to memories not wholly hers but these were different, more personal somehow. Never the less she had no answer to give and so turned her attention back to practical matters. Jogging down the corridors she soon found herself back in the main hall. Things did not look good. More elves from both sides were down but the Vasht elves could ill afford their losses and the invaders were gaining ground.

Given that it had succeeded in its own small way Syjahel was ready to try the same tactic again and headed towards the combat. This time however things did not go quite so smoothly
"The girl!" one amongst the wedding guests sang out "The bride! Get her!" half a dozen elves turned away from the main combat and turned their gaze upon Syjahel where she stood in the middle of the room with tumble down tables all about. Well she had wanted to distract them and this would certainly suffice. Without further ado she ran off again this time towards the nearest barracks. She knew that there was one fairly close by, guard rooms were dotted throughout the estate so that events such as this could be met so long as the alarm went out.

With her pursuers hot on her heals Syjahel used every short cut and dirty trick she could think of to slow them down tossing chairs down behind her, hurling cowering slaves in their path and generally causing a nuisance, anything to keep her ahead for just a little longer. Finally she made it to the guard room. Hammering on the door she screamed out the pass word and seconds later the doors were flung open. Syjahel looked straight into the eyes of a she elf, a she elf with no right to be there.

"Ki'lia?" she murmured, and then suddenly it was all flooding back in. Her stolen life, the armour, her command, the mysterious lord and the magical child. Unfortunately this reverie lasted a moment too long and she was unprepared for the attacker slamming into her back and baring her to the ground. Down of her face Syjahel was barely aware of the few guards within sallying out to meet the other Xalkhis warriors but she was more than aware of the fact that any moment a knife might find a chink in this armour of hers and send her to another world from which there would be no awakening.


Seijl and Jacks

Another Asur fell to Seijl's blade and that was good. Recovering his sword the shade set out to make sure another would never trouble the hearts and souls of the noble Druchii again. The Shadow Warrior was clearly a good fighter but he had not yet succeeded in killing of disabling Leifon for all that she was bleeding from several minor wounds, Seijl knew his gave them the advantage. Dashing into combat Seijl's first blow drew blood as the enemy tried to spin away from his blow and parry Leifon's attack at the same time. Together the shades attacked relentlessly and the Asur could not hope to contend with them both together. In a deft move Seijl fainted low before bringing his sword across in a strike as elegant as it was brutal and hacked off the Shadow Warrior's sword hand at the wrist. The fight lasted mere seconds after that with Leifon plunging her sword into the Asur's black heart.

Turning to the only remaining enemy Seijl saw something extraordinary. Last he had looked Jacks and the other she elf had been fighting yet another blasted Shadow warrior, now that had changed. In place of an Asur forest fighter the pair struggled with an elf in plate and scale armour clearly of Druchii manufacture and wielding a large bastard sword to great effect and with considerable skill. He had seen the like before, in fact he had seen this elf before. Seijl's mind reeled as the memories came crashing back, everything he had learned, seen and done since leaving the mountains. The fighting the Lamia in genuine fear for his life, finding that life in a city was no easier than that in the wilds and most amazingly of all finding some kind of connection with spire dwellers. It was allot to take in.

Jacks meanwhile had little time to consider such things, the Dalvian was as skilled an opponent as he had faced hand to hand and he had the advantage of equipment. That said Jacks was not without his tricks and as the warrior was occupied with Tiarra he sheathed his sword taking in hand a dagger instead. Tiarra was being driven back by long sweeping arks from the Dalvian's larger sword and this left the elf's side open to Jacks. Leaping forwards Jacks rammed his dagger into the knee joint slamming it through the chain mail covered gap and into the flesh beneath. The retainer did not like this at all letting out a cry of pain and turning violently on Jacks. Anticipating this the shade was already up on his feet and out of the way drawing his sword again. With one hand he signalled Tiarra not to attack again but even as he did something happened to stop his heart.

In a move as treacherous as it was surprising Liefon stepped up behind Tiarra and thrust her sword into the other elf's belly. Withdrawing the sword with a flourish and a grin she leered at Jacks before licking the blood from the blade with her delicate pink tongue. Jacks was left no time to grieve however as the Dalvian strode in again with a series of overhand cuts designed to batter through Jacks' guard. Parrying and blocking these Jacks fired a bolt point blank into the Dalvian’s chest but the armour was too thick and although blood was drawn it was superficial at best. Still to have wounded the elf was progress though killing him would still take a great deal of skill, luck or assistance.


Cananatra

This was a momentous decision and a strange place to make it. As always Cananatra looked at things from a pragmatic, centred point of view. He had never been particularly devout but Khaine had been the god he had turned his prayers towards for his entire life and the sum total of that life could be summed up in a very few words. He had killed many, seen much and suffered more, his possession could be counted without running out of fingers. He was a soldier of fortune and a good one at that but he had not noted Khaine’s help throughout any of it, perhaps a new patron would bring him greater gifts and in any case Khaine was hardly a gentle god. Just as all Druchii were Cananatra was damned either way. For such a dramatic choice it did not take the elf too long to decide, following his heart he headed towards the shrine of Slaanesh.

As he did so the amulet glowed ever warmer until as he stood between the great golden statues it almost burned, but it was a pleasant heat. In his head the deep and booming voice of Khaine continued to speak, commanding him to turn back, threatening dire vengeance but the voice of Slaanesh was soothing and if gentler no less strong. Holding his breath without thinking Cananatra took the final step into the golden shrine. Inside was a riot of colour; marbles, silks and precious metals of all kinds sheathed the walls, statues of exquisite and despicable beauty stood all about and although each screamed for attention somehow they were not garish but formed a gallery of unearthly delight. All of this finery faded into dullness however compared to the being at the centre of it all. On a silver divan atop purple silk sheets lounged a she elf such as Cananatra had never seen. He had seen beautiful elves in his life but she was as different to them as a beaten mongrel was to a stalking wolf. Near naked the being was clothed only in jewellery which did nothing at all to hide her form, despite himself Cananatra felt his body stir with lust. And then she spoke

"You have come then, my champion," the voice was not that which he had heard outside, it was softer, more delicate and feminine but no less beguiling. He said nothing
"You may wonder why you are here, my prince knows all secrets and I may share a few with you. This is my realm, the Tree of Hearts where the deepest desires and fears of one’s self may be revealed at my will. I am Neireth, Dryad and keeper of the tree in service to the Prince of Chaos. As you know though, all is not well." at this she rose and walked closer to where Cananatra stood, her jewellery softly clinking as she stalked between the finery.

"You were led here by another, an elf by the name of Gil'naresh who did so in service of his mistress and master, he has corrupted by realm to his own designs and tests each of your companions with their own hopes and nightmares. Understand this is no easy feat, no elf but the mightiest sorceress could hope to achieve this alone but neither Gil'naresh nor his mistress are alone anymore than you are now. They serve my prince's sister/brother, Tzeentch as you call it. This breach is not to be borne. You came freely to me and my prince, now freely accept my help and with it a charge. Drive out to Tzeentchens, free your friends from the web and go forth with the blessings of Slaanesh. Tell me mortal, do you accept?"

-Drainial

[Meteor]

Jacks' eyes opened wide in astonishment, he did not expect Leifon to betray him so suddenly. The world seemed to had frozen in time at that point, he couldn't move, couldn't utter a sound, he could only stutter as his jaw gaped open wide like a Nauglir gone stupid. Gentle Tiarra's eyes looked at him, even as her life ebbed away. Her strawberry pink lips giving him a reassuring smile as her body landed softly to the ground. Blood flowed over her silky smooth skin, staining the white moonlight skin and her chestnut brown hair.

He wanted to scream, to break down at the fact that he couldn't save her in the physical world, nor even in his memories.

"Why? Why why why!?"

Yet, he couldn't stop, for the Dalvian didn't even give him a moment to grief nor catch Tiarra as she fell. Parrying and blocking, Jacks managed to break off and create a momentary breathing space between him and his opponent again. This fight was dragging on, the wound Jacks dealt him was superficial at best, even though it made the Dalvian hiss out in pain, it wasn't going to be enough to tip this fight in his favour.

"Damn that armour" he cursed. His opponent was too quick for him, is too well protected and doesn't seem to be slowed down even by wielding a bastard sword. Jacks hasn't been hit nor dealt a mortal wound yet, but it was only a matter of time, and time wasn't something he had in abundance of. Jacks didn't like the idea of using poison, it felt dirty to be using such a cheap trick on an opponent of worthy skills. But for the sake of survival and his companions, he had no choice really. Coating his remaining two daggers in the venom, Jacks got ready for another attempt at this Dalvian.

"Seijl, deal with Leifon for me, please. I got business to finish here that I do not wish to be interrupted from. I will personally deal with that treacherous biatch afterwards."

Jacks will use the last vial of his Unseen Chains to coat his remaining two daggers with it. He will use Handbow and Dagger again, but will use the Handbow to draw the Dalvian to him, rather than charge in again. So Jacks will stand back and shoot his Handbow at the Dalvian's face and other unprotected areas until he charges at him. Once within melee range, Jacks will try and sidestep to avoid the attack(s) and continue to harass him with his Handbow.

Keep doing that until the Dalvian loses his patience and makes a mistake or presents an opening for Jacks to exploit and deliver his poisoned dagger into a gap and the flesh and blood of the Dalvian.

[Cananatra]

Having made his decision Cananatra strode towards the chaos temple, off the divide and away from khaine. As he walked khaine’s voice continued to boom in his head, threats, one after another, some quite inventive provided most of the dialog. However despite this, the decision made Cananatra continued towards chaos. At his leg the amulet continued to warm, becoming a rather pleasant feeling as he entered the shadow of the temple.

Within the temple held a definite slaanesh feel. It was practically a physical assault on the senses with rich furnishings, plating in rare metals, soft cloth and incense wafting through the air. Rows of statues spread to either side, beautiful in a disturbing way, some less than elven. At the centre, as if the statues were placed to draw the eye was possibly the most stunning elf he had ever seen. He felt a thrill run through him at the sight before crushing the feeling; this was most certainly not the time. As she spoke several pieces of the puzzle fell into place, Tzeentch manipulating a slaanesh creation, the source of the Dalvain’s strange powers, and a task.

“Will I accept the task?” Cananatra spoke, forcing himself to think clearly. “I will. Khaine seems to be a less than useful god to pray to. I’ll take the fight to Tzeentch’s minions, though that seemed likely anyway. How though am I to free my comrades, I somehow doubt they’ll take well to me hitting them with a slaanesh amulet.” He pats the amulet at his side.

Cananatra accepts the offer.

[Drainial]

Cananatra

The daemon elf laughed, a sultry chuckle that warmed Cananatra’s insides like a fearsome draught of whisky, burning as it went.
"Hardly. Two things bind the magic of Tzeentch to my realm, the elf who brought you here must die and already your companions strive towards that goal but he is simply controlling a device placed here by his mistress. There is a crystal thrust inside my heart of hearts at the very centre of this reality. It is well guarded and beyond my power to retrieve but with your sword arm and my blessings together we may be able to destroy the guardian and then the crystal itself."

With a gesture Nerieth created a portal very like the one used to enter this domain, Cananatra made to go through but with a hand on his arm Nerieth stopped him
"Wait," she said simply and took up the amulet around his waist. Gently she placed it around his neck letting it hang against his chest. Instantly Cananatra felt heat suffuse throughout his body making him stronger, faster and banishing pains he hardly knew he had been feeling.
"These are but a small portion of the blessings my prince may bestow to the worthy, you will have my help in the challenge to come, now go forth and free me from this corruption."

Feeling better than he had at almost any other time in his life, physically at least, Cananatra stepped through the portal...

If the plain of the shrines had been split in two this was riven asunder. The skies thundered above with lightening and fire, every colour imaginable roiled through the glittering clouds as forces he could scarcely imagine battled for supremacy. On the ground to the ground was uneven, a plain of wild flowers and green grass stretched out as far as the eye could see but vast stretches of it were burned and blasted. As the shrines had held the attention in the previous place however here it was something quite different. A vast tree, larger even than the petrified one which they were in some sense inside, thrust its branches high into the air. The tree had a grandeur rarely seen in such but other than its size seemed normal enough; at its centre though a large golden face stared out as if grown from the wood of the tree itself, which it most likely was. Thrust into the mouth of the face a shimmering blue crystal spike stood out.

Unlike in the shrine land however Cananatra was not alone. In this place the Minotaur looked especially ugly and brutal, not particularly large for its kind the beast still stood a clear three feet over Cananatra's head, was far broader and likely much heavier. Naked it clutched a large axe in one hand too heavy for most elves to wield comfortably in two. Across the open plain the Minotaur had clearly seen the elf and stood there in front of the tree, staring. Even without looking the weight on his head and shoulders told Cananatra that he was once again armed and armoured as usual with the amulet pressed to his chest underneath the armour, it gave him strength. Hopefully strength enough to see this mission through.

-Drainial

[Cananatra]

Her laugh sent yet another thrill through him, a feeling he was starting to thoroughly enjoy, before she replied. The source of Tzeentch’s power in this realm was his goal, guarded as it was by some powerful enemy. So long as the others take care of the Dalvian, and they should, I can get this finished and catch up with that sorceress. Before him Nerieth created a portal, presumably leading to his target. It looked similar to the one he had used to enter the tree. As he moved to step through she stopped him and reached down for the amulet. As she placed it over his head it was all he could do not to reach out for her, a slightly disconcerting experience for the pragmatic warrior.

As the amulet settled into place the warmth, thus far confined to his leg, now spread throughout his body. Every muscle in his body sparked with a restless energy and the discomfort of the wounds he had taken days before faded, becoming noticeable only in their absence. With a smile once again tugging at the corners of his mouth Cananatra stepped through the portal.

As with the last time he had been teleported within the realm the scenery changed in a flash. No longer was he in the temple, and he knew without looking behind him the temple would not be there, nor would the portal. The ground was covered in plant life, but here and there great smoking furrows marked the path of some unimaginable magic, blasting the life from the plain. Above his head the sky was filled with cloud or perhaps smoke; vying for supremacy the colours blasted jagged forks of lightening at one another or tried to smother their opponents in their radiance. Cananatra’s gaze was drawn to the centre of the plain, how he knew it was the centre was unclear but it most certainly was. His vision was filled by a giant tree, far larger than any he had experienced and clearly the focus of power in the area. Had the size not been a give away the face growing out of the wood would have been enough. In its mouth was jammed a blue spike. Probably the artefact. he thought to himself.

His goal in sight his gaze now swept the earth towards his target. The guardian was not hard to spot, it was a minotaur, a rather large variety of beastman. As he became aware of his new foe the weight on his limbs came to his attention, at least he didn’t have to fight it naked. Even with his equipment though, he knew the weapon it carried and its sheer size made it a foe to be reckoned with. Pulling his shield free he settled it on his arm before dragging the throwing axe free of the shield. May as well make use of this. He started to walk towards the guardian.

Cananatra will move towards the minotaur and let fly with the axe as soon as he is in range, hopefully to goad the beast into charging, any damage is a nice bonus. He will then draw his sword and begin a slow counter charge, jogging towards the minotaur. As he closes, rather than take it head on he will dive to one side and while rolling cut at the minotaur’s legs with his sword as it heads past hopefully doing some decent damage.

[Carathyle maveric]

Carathyle slowly raised to his full length as he withdrew the sword from the maibed's bare back. His attention didn't go to his father, nor to his brother in arms Ferion. It went toward one of the guards as it had something Carathyle could sure use. Sheathing his sword, Carathyle wrapped his hand around the obsidian one and approached the guard's corpse, only to find the maibed's dagger a useful artefact. Seeing a maibed lying on the floor, he quickly grasped the sheath for the dagger and placed it around his belt, before taking the dagger out of the corpse and sheathing it into the designated scabbard. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" the harsh voice of his father sounded through his ears.

Turning toward him, Carathyle didn't bother to pick up the shield for he knew that he had a couple of advantages over his father. One of these was that he wore the same kind of armour as his father, his sword capable of being used with two hands, his brashness and the fact that, even if he fails, his father dies in about 42 years by his hands.

Walking back, Carathyle kept his hand around the hilt, ready to pull it out and go in a full-on assault. "You didn't give a shiz back then who I was, why would it matter to you?!"

Carathyle will use any advantages when it come to fighting, included is his friend Ferion. He'll capture the sword arm of his opponent and then strike at him.

[Vaari]

The sight of the armoured Dalvian led to a rush of answers. The torrent of information threatened to overwhelm him, for the first time Seijl reckoned it was fortunate that he had experience in over coming such moments of mental strain. Once his blood slowed it's pulsing behind his eyes long enough to gain a clear view of the world again, Seijl was greeted with another surprising sight. The elf that he had been aiding had run the other missing shade through, provoking a cry of anguish from Jacks. Ah, that makes sense, Seijl's thought carried with it a pity that he could never share with his friend, less he insult the grim fool's honor.

"Seijl, deal with Leifon for me, please. I got business to finish here that I do not wish to be interrupted from. I will personally deal with that treacherous biatch afterwards." Seijl struggled to fight back a smile, the greedy bastard thought he was capable of taking the Dalvian and the "treacherous biatch". Jack's was right in one instance, the girl had to go, the dalvian was far too dangerous opponent to deal with with their backs exposed. Digging his heels in to the ground, Seijl started of at a sprint towards Leifon.

Seijl charges Leifon, he will raise his buckler and "flying tackle" her with it, to knock her away from Jack's combat. he will then roll away to disengage and will prepare for combat.

[Syjahel]

This time, it worked too well. Syjahel caught the attention of the attackers well and truly. She turned and fleeted for the barracks, glad to have drawn a sizeable number of the attackers after her but well aware of the need to be successful. Otherwise, it would simply be a clever plan right up until the last moment.

It hit her with the suddenness of an assassin. One moment she was running, the next she had slammed into contact with reality. One last cruel trick of Fate - or perhaps some part of a vanished friend had a part to play? - and there was Ki'lia, back from her mission to -

Sultra. If there was one thing Syjahel understood, it was hatred, and the aloof highborn had certainly roused her ire. Unfortunately, it was a revelation that came hand to hand with an assailant to the center of her back. She rolled, trying to find a way to throw her attacker off, bringing back her elbow into her attacker, twisting violently.

Syjahel wants to elbow her attacker in the face, stomach or other soft and vulnerable areas and make them lose their advantage any way she can. She's not sure if they want the 'bride' alive but if none of this is real, she reasons that they are probably trying to kill her. She will therefore do her best to return the favour. If she gets free she will get to her feet as soon as she can and start organising the guards in an aggressive defence. Worrying about its reality in a little while as she doesn't think she can take a chance with what she thinks is probably sorcery.

[Drainial]

Jacks and Seijl

It just wasn't fair, for years Tiarra's death had haunted Jacks and now when he finally got the chance to see her again she died before his very eyes and to the same insidious traitor, Leifon. To make matters worse he could not even punish her, at least not right away; he had a moment’s breathing space but no more than that and if he took his attention off the Dalvian he knew it would be a mistake he would not live to regret. Now that he remembered though he did at least have someone to call on.

"Seijl, deal with Leifon for me, please. I got business to finish here that I do not wish to be interrupted from. I will personally deal with that treacherous biatch afterwards." Jacks said and Seijl was happy to oblige particularly now that he once again recognised his companion, the closest thing the bitter shade had to a true friend. As Jacks wanted the girl alive Seijl eschewed the use of his sword instead charging forwards with his buckler out in front. Seeing him Leifon turned just in time to be hurled to the ground by Seijl's flying tackle. The two thudded into the ground with a crump though Seijl's landing was a little more comfortable cushioned as it was by the elf beneath him. It became obvious however that Leifon would not allow herself to be caught without a fight worthy of her heritage. Seijl winced as her nimble hands punched into his ribs and stabbed into pressure points along his sides. Desperate to stop this well practiced torment he seized her arms and tried to force them to the ground. He was the heavier of the two and his position on top gave him some advantages but she was far from weak and it was with considerable struggle that Seijl managed to subdue her. Even pinned down however Leifon wriggled and tried to throw her attacker off, Seijl knew that he was unlikely to be able to hold her forever.

Jacks of course was not without trials of his own. Taking the brief break to smear two daggers with paralytic poison he once again took up his short sword and handbow but this time did not charge in. Instead he began snapping shots off with his hand bow. Aiming for the few patches of bare skin Jacks' aim immediately went for the Dalvian’s face. One small bolt ripped along the cheek in an almost parallel line to the scar bestowed in the forest, this made the elf very angry. Charging forwards with a bestial shout he tried to cleave Jacks in two in a great down strike. Dodging to the side Jacks parried and struck back, his sword cracking down on the Dalvian's arm. The vambrace held but he hissed with pain none the less and his backhanded rejoinder was slow enough for Jacks to leap back and away. Firing another bolt, this one into the Dalvian’s chest Jacks spurred him to attack again. This time the retainer attacked a little more sensibly, feinting high he forced Jacks right before bringing his sword down. With quick reflexes Jacks parried the strike but his short sword struggled to deflect the hand and a half blade in two strong hands and the cold steel dug a shallow furlough through the flesh of his thigh. Defeating this foe would not be quick, nor without sacrifice it seemed.


Carathyle

This was it, Carathyle was finally face to face with his father again and long before time. First taking the time to indolently scavenge the fallen for his usual memento Carathyle finally stood before Coreleth. To his lord father's challenge his response was just as disrespectful
"You didn't give a shiz back then who I was, why would it matter to you?!" This did not go down well with Carathyle's father, never a calm and forgiving elf this day’s events had done nothing to improve his demeanour
"Insolent wretch! Are you another of that whore's playthings? I am surrounded by weaklings and fools. With her dead and her toys along with her perhaps by sons will grow up strong instead of the pampered buffoons she would wish for." With a speech like that the attack when it came was far from surprising.

Whipping his sword down Coreleth struck for his son's head. Carathyle had been waiting for this. He seldom liked to use his obsidian sword instead saving it for worthy opponents’, this was the time. Raising his blade he met the attack and thrust back, and then the battle began in earnest. Swords clashed, both identically armed, one with steel and one with obsidian. Their fighting styles were closely matched as well and they fenced back and forth neither seemingly able to land a telling blow. To the side Fearion stood resting his hands on the hilt of his great sword, he knew that this was something Carathyle had to do himself. As he had before Carathyle attempted to end the fight by grabbing his father's wrist and stabbing into the breast, the old dog was not without his tricks hammering his gauntleted fist into Carathyle's face making the younger elf stagger back. Raising his blade to block Coreleth's following strike Carathyle fought back, his obsidian sword clanging off the side of the elf lord's armour. He had killed the elf once, to do so again would take all of his skill.



Syjahel

More than a little startled by the sudden return of her memories and with it her hate filled yet strangely mixed feelings for Sultra and his reappeared minions Syjahel was taken unawares by the enemy bowling her to the floor. This stupor did not last long however and as she hit the floor in an armoured crash Syjahel was already trying to flip over. Driving her elbows and hands back she hit something soft though from where she was and particularly in her helmet she could not tell what. The attacker was not quiet either however and his hands locked around her, fighting for purchase. Here her armour did help since he could not choke her nor do much damage. Twisting violently Syjahel's greater strength paid off and she was able to throw her attacker off. Reaching her knees Syjahel saw yet another Xhalkis retainer and snatching up her sword from the floor ran him through as he attempted to tackle her to the ground once more.

Turning back she saw that the nine guards from the barracks with Ki'lia at the head were battling the invaders admirably without her intervention. Most already lay dead, their lack of armour telling in addition to their being outnumbered, and the last two were surrounded and hacked apart while Syjahel regained her breath. Looking over them Syjahel realised she knew them, not just Ki'lia but several more and not from memories of her childhood, though wearing Vasht colours these were Sultra's elves. As she realised this the armour they wore changed from her house uniforms to Sultra's sea green with his heart and serpent on their shields replacing the tower of Vasht. Clearly something had changed.


Cananatra


The blessings of Slaanesh were strange but so far very pleasant and it was with a light heart that Cananatra prepared for his next battle. The Minotaur was a large and formidable opponent but he was being aided by Nerieth, hopefully that would give him the strength he needed to overcome it, in either case he had never backed down from a fight and daemon or no daemon he wouldn't this time either. He knew he would need every advantage he could muster however and so plucked the throwing axe from his shield. Starting forward he saw the minotaur eyeing him, holding its ground before the tree and the face with its crystal piercing. When he judged the range close enough Cananatra let fly, the axe was harder to throw than a knife or a spear but when it hit it hit hard crunching into the upper torso of the minotaur. This enraged the beastman and with a deafening bellow it abandoned its watchful torpor in favour of a violent charge. This was the response Cananatra had been hoping for, his limited dealings with beastmen had led him to a correct conclusion as to the best way to get a reaction, pain was always to be answered with pain immediately. In that they were much like the Druchii though they lacked the virtues of subtlety and patience.

Keeping going forwards himself Cananatra tried to judge the perfect moment, as he saw the axe come up and the horns go down he leapt to the side with all the elegance he could and lashed out with his sword. The minotaur sped past doing no damage to the lithe elf while Cananatra's sword elicited a bright splash of blood from the beast. A long cut down the back of the minotaur’s leg bled copiously but the creature seemed not to feel it and came into for another attack this time swinging his axe horizontally. Wisely choosing not to try and take the blow on his shield Cananatra dodged back and ducked back in slicing down the beast's chest. In response the creature's free arm swept back hammering into the elf's chest and sending him sprawling.

Sitting back up Cananatra observed a strange feeling; pain he felt that was for sure but across his ribs and side where the blow had struck he tingled with a pleasurable sensation. It did not lessen the pain but simply went alongside it, pain and pleasure side by side. It was strange indeed. Getting back to his feet Cananatra saw the minotaur was readying itself for another charge seemingly uncaring of its wounds. He would have to be very agile to survive long enough for it to bleed to death, if indeed it would in this place.

Sorry for the delay –Drainial

[Carathyle maveric]

OOC: Now, this moment, I all of a sudden want acrobatics really badly for Carathyle(I wanted them anyway ^_^’ so nothing new there)

IC:
Weakling? Fool? Plaything?... You absolute ignorant bastard. “I’ll show you who grows up strong. For your blindness made you overlook the very thing you claim to fight for!” Carathyle exclaimed, pulling the Obsidian sword out of the sheath and blocking the incoming lunge in a vertical manner. With the Obsidian long sword at display, Carathyle discarded the Steel sword from his belt to the floor in a quick flick of his wrist. Carathyle and his father were equally skilled, equally armed and equally armored, the sword dealt blows to one another without pause. Some bounced off the armoured plating, some slit past the links of the chainmail where others would be deflected on the sword. Guess I’m underestimating him all this time. Finally… a… worthy… opponent! Carathyle thought as he stepped forward and returned the defensive toward his father. Every stab he made, every slash he aimed, it all seemed useless against the armoured form of his father.

Carathyle soon found himself in a position he wasn’t familiar with, equaled in style of combat. The brash youth was used with fighting opponents that used a fixed pattern, making him capable of predicting the movement of the being before he made them, however, with his father this wasn’t the case at all. A slight smile occupying his feature, Carathyle found himself actually enjoying the battle for once. So many cold hearted battles, so few worthy opponents, finally one that can actually give me a good fight. Carathyle thought, feeling refreshed by the experience his father gave him, like a present from the past waiting to be unraveled in the future, and today it was unraveled indeed. His strategy was occupy the sword long enough for him to disarm or kill his father, but unlike with the witch elf that had both hands occupied, his father had one hand free. Being greeted halfway by an gauntleted fist, Carathyle soon felt the metal knuckles hit his face, forcing him to abandon his plan of attack and go into a withdraw. Didn’t saw that one coming. Carathyle raised his sword once more, blocking an incoming strike for Carathyle’s head. You want to fight unorthodox? Father? Fine! his thoughts were going ahead of his movement, as Carathyle lunged forth and struck at the armoured plating, seeking a weak spot in the plates. So far without luck.

Against his father, being rational isn’t smart, nor wise to do. It was an obligation for the House of Maveric to be capable of attacking in the spur of the moment, and taking brash decisions was only part of that birthright. His fights all over the Lands of Chill had so far lived up to that reputation, and Carathyle’s military training in his decades of serving the Witch King’s grand army allowed him to think inside the box as well. Military tactics and battle formations were known and studied by the nobleman, and since he favored solo combat so far, he hadn’t put these to any good use.

Carathyle blocked an upcoming attack another time, this time placing his boot against his father’s bulk and pushing them away from each other. Actually in air by the force he placed in the kick, Carathyle sheathed his obsidian sword and went for the shorter, lighter and faster dagger. This is not the time to practice a Sword-Dagger combination, so I’m going to risk a couple of scars on my arms and face for just one on his. He thought, drawing the dagger from his belt. “So far, we both used tactics only known to the House of Maveric, for we are the only ones being trained by a High Elf. Open your blasphemous eyes Old man, I bear the sign of Maveric, I am your heir!” Carathyle spoke trying to provoke his father into lunging forward at him in blind rage. Whether Carathyle’s action will render him a facial scar or not is a question only Khaine can answer, but all Carathyle needs is a scratch on his father’s skin and the Maibed’s poison will do its work just fine.

Carathyle will draw the dagger and sheath his sword and remain defensive. If Coreleth attacks, Carathyle will dodge just enough to prevent any mayor injuries to his face and body, but he’ll remain well within his own striking distance. His aim is the bare part of the arm, the chainmail links at his father’s flank, the neck, his father’s face , inside of the knees and the armpits.

OOC: btw 771 words ^_^ I really took myself out on this one, though not in perfect detail. Sorry if I went a bit overboard. I assume that Carathyle can either block or dodge the attack(creating gaps in fashion written above is understandable as a dodge) so I don't think I went too much overboard ^_^' If I did, I'm very very very very, you get the point, sorry.


EDIT: Not that is about the right level planning/uncertainty. -Drainial

[Syjahel]

Fighting off her attacker as the memories came flooding back, Syjahel fought on instinct, using every advantage she could. Throwing off her attacker and swiftly shedding blood, she looked around for more enemies to kill. As her mind cleared, the illogicality of them being truly from House Xalkhis asserted itself, resolving with the familiar and welcome sight of Ki'lia.

Syjahel shook off the last clinging memories and looked around. There were Druchii here she clearly remembered from Sultra's tower, and that meant that reinforcements were with them at last. A tiny voice inside suggested that perhaps these, too, were not really as they seemed but it was soon stifled. Wearily, she nodded in thanks to her sister-in-arms.

"Did you pass through the tree? We have accounted for as many Dalvians as we could catch; you found the trail of corpses ..." Quickly, always keeping an eye out for trouble, she related the events of the journey ending in the tree and its perfidious enchantments.

Sword in hand, she looked over the troops.

"That was timely intervention. My thanks. I do not know what became of the rest - we all entered that damned tree - but let's find them and go after Naylia as quickly as we can."

Give Ki'lia the info on what they've faced, because she may need to know. Then ask her what happened back at Sultra's only if there's time on the march, otherwise it can wait. Syjahel wants to know but there are more important things to take care of than curiosity. First priority is finding the others so they go after Naylia with as many as they can muster.

OOC: I feel this was not a good quality post, but for some reason I can't really explain it was like pulling teeth to get it written. I had to settle in order to get it done at all and I hate to settle

[Meteor]

The shooting worked in getting the Dalvian to charge in, but Jacks was once again cheated of a telling blow by his armour. The Dalvian did however, hiss in pain when the blow connected. It was a start, it meant this foe can be hurt even though he's protected by armour, but it was far from over.

Jacks took stock of the situation as they broke off again, the Dalvian had been dealt three injuries. Once along the knee, a graze along his cheek and a glancing blow on his vambrace, whilst he himself haven't suffered any major injuries yet. He took heart of these facts, the thought that he was finally keeping up with the Dalvian's speed allowed some of his fears to ebb away. Perhaps it was because the Dalvian was wounded in the knee, perhaps it was Jacks' uncanny focus learnt from the old bag that is saving him right now. Whatever the reason, it have Jacks a faint glimmer of hope for defeating this adversary as he snapped off another shot.

Adrenaline coursed through his body as all these thoughts flashed through his mind, and just as quick, the Dalvian's counter blow flashed around too. Jacks barely had time to deflect the blow, and even then, it wasn't enough as cold steel bit into his thigh.

Jacks' eyes widened as the shock of the blow sunk in, he hadn't been cut in a long time, his policy of evasion had served him well till now. He broke away quick smart, lest his opponent followed through and cleaved him in half. He could feel the warm blood oozing from his wound, trickling down his leg and slowly soaking his mud encrusted cloak.

"And this is what happens when you start thinking about your good fortune you fool!" he muttered.

He dared not look at the severity of the cut, instead, allowing the adrenaline to temporarily block it out for him.

"Okay, one to him, three to me."

Being wounded on the thighs was bad, that much was clear to Jacks, and he had been lucky to have lasted this long before suffering a significant wound, but it also meant his luck was starting to run out, he needed to finish this soon. But now, he had a better idea on how to defeat this opponent, he rose defiantly and reloaded his Handbow, conserving his energy for the finish was important, especially with a wounded leg now.

"Let us close the curtains to this duel already" and he loosed another shot.

Jacks will conserve his energy by standing still to shoot at the Dalvian to draw him in again. At the last moment he will sidestep and counter with a strike on the Dalvian's same vambrace with as much force as he can muster. He will follow up the movement by sidestepping behind the Dalvian and striking at the wounded knee. Basically try and surprise the Dalvian with an explosive burst of energy and relentlessly attack his vambrace and knee to try and weaken him for a telling blow later.

If the Dalvian becomes disorientated at any point, try and land a poisoned dagger into his flesh. Otherwise jump back when he lashes out. However, if the strike isn't strong or aimed at an important vital on Jacks' body, he'll brace himself for the pain and take the blow and hold it there so he could pull out both his poisoned daggers and deliver the poison into the Dalvian's body. (last resort if striking the vambrace and knee doesn't work)

[Vaari]

OOC: Sorry Guys, family issues and 4 days in a car left no time to post, keeping it short.

IC: The biatch fought like a wounded animal beneath him, their sweat entwining as their limbs did the same. Leifon's fingers tore into the shades flesh, forcing Seijl to rethink his approach. Well, kind of he thought as he sought to slam his forehead into the girls face.

Seijl goes for the headbutt and then will seek to roll away

[Cananatra]

HIs plan worked, the simple beast charged almost as soon as the axe sunk into its flesh. Had it been brighter it may have noticed he had no more ranged weapons, were it possessing a modicum of intellengence it may have suspected a trap, it had neither. As the beastman closed Cananatra nimbly moved to the side just as the minotaur brought its head down, restricting its own vision. The beast passed safely past him. Not wasting any time his sword licked out and drew blood from the minotaur before its momentum moved it out of range. The wound seemed to do little and with a deep bellow the minotaur arrested its charge and spun to attack again. Its axe whistled through the air, a predictable move and Cananatra wasted no time in avoiding it. As it moved past his face Cananatra stepped forward and once again drew blood, this time from the beasts chest.

Before he could withdraw though the guardian lashed out with its free arm. Still committed to his attack Cananatra was unable to avoid the strike which slammed into his chest. The blow itself wasnt lethal, stopped easily by the druchii-forged steel but the massive force behind it was enough to send him stumbling backwards as his feet left the ground briefly. Landing on his back having lost the struggle with gravity he rolled and lurched back upright.

His chest felt strange, it was sore, no doubt slightly bruised and his other wound flared in sympathy but over it all was pleasure. It tingled alongside the pain, not blocking it, but not being shadowed by it either. It was not at all unpleasant and it did help take the edge off pain. As his eyes rose he saw the minotaur readying itself for another charge. Well then, how about we try something a bit different this time. "Come ugly, taste my steel again!"

Cananatra will set himself before the minotaur's charge. As it closes he'll thrust his sword straight forward and lock his arm, aiming for its heart, or where its heart probably is. He'll hold his shield before him to hopefully stop the horns or axe and hope the minotaur's own momentum will serve to drive his sword deep into it. If the minotaur dodges the sword he'll dive to the side.