Group 22

[Calisson]

Dancing with the blue daemon had been hilarious. Especially the kill at the end, done like if the Druchii were a trio of cats playing with one mouse.
The mission had been a success, the portcullis had been raised.
Elysian was bleeding heavily. Looking at his head, Caraoc observed "Only small cuts. The head always bleeds like a halfling."

EDIT: Caraoc realized that their performance in opening the portcullis might raise suspicion if later on it was founded to be broken.
Caraoc gave back to Elysian one of the iron bars which formerly belonged to it.
He told him: "Is there any way you could disguise this mechanism as half repaired?

-=-=-

Getting out of the gatehouse, the sight was refreshing.
The chaos warriors were routed.
"Slave hunt!" yelled Caraoc with greed. There was a special atmosphere, when the game is nearly over and you're on the winning side.
Especially for that sort of game, capturing two-leg-game, which was the hunter's favorite.

Caraoc let the scald in him describe the situation in salvage verses, paying his appreciation to the stars that helped him so much.
"...Red forbidden planet, amulets that conjure souls, Doomed to float forever in the threshold of the crossroads
Crossed bones & skulls, palms with a pulse, The mouth of madness, arrangement orchestral
Celestial bodies undetected by the human eye, Reflected rays into the stratosphere whether its day or night
The folklore continues, delirium & mania, No available serum for victims of swords of Vikarh

Ain't nothin guaranteed but death, Reach for the stars
Capture that moment worldwide, Going in for the kill right now
Don't waste your time..."

The corsairs knew all appropriate techniques to capture fleeing opponents.
The ironclad warriors with a strong will had to be taken one at a time by two corsairs, tripping them down. Once on the ground, they were easily captured.
Marauders were more likely to lose fighting resolve and would surrender, when facing a larger faction.
Muscular orcs had to be crippled with arrows or bolts on the legs. They would heal quickly in their prisons.
Fast ones like Skaven had to be surrounded, they would panic and jump inside any trap.
The half-beasts could be tamed, at least the lesser ones, once their leader was killed.

But all these techniques required trained corsairs, not blood-thirsty Khainites.
Caraoc looked for his mate Casaythe. There he was, next to Varin.
"Hey! thanks for guarding the stairs. We made it!
Where are the other ones? The shade and the other girl?"

<Yaaaaawn>
Now that the stress of the battle was ebbing down, the corsair suddenly felt the cumulated tireness of the very long night weighing heavily on his shoulders.
Where did we leave our horses? I need a bucket of fresh water and a bed.

Rejoicing.

OOC: Swollen Members - Massacre - Black Magic
Lyrics: http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/swollenm ... sacre.html
Soundtrack: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UhY2yZJdS_Q

_________________
Caraoc the scald pilot - WS3 S4 T2 D5 I5 - A saga or it didn't happen!
Equipment: staff, repeater handbow (7 clips), Sea Dragon Cloak,
Inventory: "Beastbane" Horn - Mount: Locke (ex Fiat's) - Gold: 100
Skills: Power of Azyr (2), Evasion
Class: Mage (Astromancer)

[Dauricha]

Bright white light, then darkness. Phalx floated for a while, thoughts of the jarring punch, the heavy wound from the halberd fading away as his unconscious drifted about.

He was in thick dark woods. It was just ahead. He remembered now. He'd had the strangest thought of huge armoured figures, of a battle, of a dragon. He forgot such nonsense, stalking ever closer. The band of caravans was only a short distance away. No one else was awake yet, his parents would just be stirring. Wind whipped through the dark green pines, the tracks were ever so light before him. His crossbow was gripped tightly. It happened again, for a moment he could have sworn it was a furious weapon, of dark black wood and golden brass. No, it was an simple weapon, worn smooth with use, with a fresh sinew string. He hunted deer, he was a young brave of the Shade clan Tr'dsar. Why was his mind wandering so?

He caught the slight natural smell. It was a young buck, fresh from the mating season. Little of these would be seen in the far North, if that's where they were indeed going. Any meat would be good, and he'd put that leather to good use. His feet were silent, his clothes dark brown and green, made no sound as he slipped through the underbrush. There, there it was. Phalx caught a glimpse of a leg. Nearly there. He grinned wickedly. By the Witch King, he enjoyed the hunt.

Further through the trees, then he saw it. The young buck was chewing grass. A small rack of antlers, the best couldn't be more then two seasons old. Slowly he raised his crossbow, a simple crows feathered bolt ready. He pushed through a bush, so that the end of his weapon just poked through. His breathing was calm. He went to flick wild hair out of his eyes. But his was cut short. He ignored such foolishness and fired. It was good.

The bolt sunk through the beasts ribs, through soft tissue, through lung and stuck in the heart. It took one halted spring, and collapsed in a heap. Dead. Slowly Phalx rose drawing his sword. No he didn't have such a thing only a simple hunting knife. Why did his shoulder hurt, where was all this blood coming from.

He awoke. First smells, split boules, blood, metal. Death. He opened his eyes as he felt the pain. Gods the pain, with a groan and spat curses he rose. He wasn't young, his family were long dead. He was no hunter, no a killer. A bloody tired killer. His shoulder was matted flesh and blood. He needed that sorted now. Karonath had saved him, he owed her a drink. What now, was this bloody day over?

Phalx will use his healing balms as best he can to help with the wound. Clearly he needs to go see a professional healer.

[Raneth]

The Daemon weaved away in wisps and jolts of ectoplasm, but Vryala would not relent; soon the Chaos-spawn was no more, rent apart by vicious blade strikes. It had bought Elysian his moment, too - outside, frenzied cries of bloodlust revealed the Maibds had finally been unleashed. Grinning, she turned to the one foe remaining; with a lunge, she impaled it, pinning it to the ground for Caraoc and Elysian to cut asunder. After the deed was done, V raised her ichor-slicked blade with a mighty roar of victory. Mission complete!

Outside, the results of the Witches' charge were but all too evident. Shreds of armour littered the square, the dead and dying surrounded by their own still-twitching limbs. The mercenaries waded forward, ankle-deep in blood, catching a mere glimpse of an undoubtedly very satisfied Drach before spotting the two remaining members of their war band. K and Phalx, both obviously spent but praise Khaine, they were alive.

V rushes to aid Karonath. And Phalx.

[Layne]

As she ran past the front of the wall of human weapons, she both saw and heard the rattle and jar of the gate rising on her left. The men hung back, knowing that their fate was sealed, but some still swiped out at the little running elf. She batted and ducked but did not turn. There ahead was that Shade. He shot one of his foes down from his back, and then rolled backwards. He leapt to his feet, just as the second foe brought his halberd down. The Shade darted forward but his blade bounced. K ducked another swipe.

The halberd hit his shoulder and he fell. The human immediately rammed his armoured knee into Phalx's face and he fell back again. The human stepped forward, drawing a small jewelled knife from his belt, and muttering skywards. K watched all this as she converged, and felt also the rise of the tide of Khaine, just beyond the near-open gate, as surely as she might feel the north wind coming through a sunless Naggarond alley. The dark figure bent over the Shade, knife raised high.

K came upon him left foot first, her swing coming down from behind her right shoulder, left hand first, and then in a downward arc that turned upwards again as her sword passed by her foot. The sword passed upward through the warrior's neck, immediately below his jaw, neatly separating head from shoulders. The body fell straight forward onto its intended victim, while the head spun upwards, rolling end over end. Karonath finished her move by leaping over the two bodies of her left foot, spinning in mid air, and landing on the other side, facing back the way she had come. The spinning head fell back down in front of her and, she caught it by on of the horns on the helm.

She looked at the ugly thing she had caught, with its clumsy runes and bizarre ornamentation... she threw it away into the crowd. Then she sat, as the first of the Witches ran past her, and let the winds of Naggaroth blow while she sat over the Shade, and wondered if she had saved more than just a body.

Then she closed her eyes and forgot all about it.

She felt a touch on her shoulder and awoke from her sleep. Varin was there, with healing bits at the ready, and Vryala right beside. K considered that Phalx needed more help than she, and just how much help did she need anyway? She thought of herself for the first time since charging in and realised that she was perfectly healthy, just seriously tired.

She needed nothing but water.

[Drainial]

As Elysian and Caroac methodically sliced apart the daemon trapped on the tip of Vyrala's sword the fiend finaly secumbed and dissipated back into the warp leaving the tower free of chaos influence. Outside the sounds of battle changed, shrill war-cries joined the bass rumble of the Chaos warriors and Midnight guard as the witch elves joined the fray with their characteristic enthusiasm. The old thief could take some pride in reflecting that he had made their grand entrance possible, with a great deal of help of course. With that job done he headed back down the stairs into the square again to see the battle was all but over, small pockets of warriors were still fighting and many elves would yet die cleaning up these and the other remnants scattered through the city but Vikrah would not fall this day, something which had looked all too likely hours before.

For all this however Elysian's mind was not at ease. Several of the group were injured, others had died throughout the night. Phalx seemed on the edge of death and if the belligerent shade had hardly endeared himself to Elysian the mage respected his abilities and his past actions enough for that to trouble him. More worrying was the spectre of the Drach and his champion. The actions, no matter how heroic, of mere mercenaries would most likely go unnoticed but with Blackthorn having led the charge and him under suspicion of treason the Drach had good reason to seek their highborn employer out. If that were to happen Elysian would prefer to be elsewhere. No matter the circumstances the Drach would not tolerate Vauvalka, not if he wanted to retain his title. Elysian resolved to lie low for the time being until they could get to their horses and back to the mansion and a long looked for rest.


Just hanging around. If the Drach or Bane make and apperance he will find something to do that keeps him out of their direct attention, piling up bodies or something. Nobles don't notice menials (he hopes).

[Kinslayer]

OOC - Calisson, the wheel could still be operated if two people pressed the broken stumps of the levers while two turned the wheel, the Chaos forces hadn't done a proper job of disabling it, just killing the slaves and breaking the levers. The Drach and co didn't see how many of you guys went in there and would just assume there was at least four, so you're safe and no need to try and disguise it as repaired. Plus I already moved you all outside, running back in to fix a lever would look even more suspicious

IC -

The mercenaries regrouped around Varin as he knelt down beside Phalx and threw down his choking armour, Karonath already kneeling there, Casaythe following Varin at his heel and Vryala, Elysian and Caraoc arriving after them a moment later. Vryala immediately saw to checking on K, as Phalx tried to administer a healing balm of his own to his shoulder with a snarl of pain. Varin brought forth a few vials of one of Yuruls' balms from a pouch at his side, passing two to Phalx and one to Elysian for the back of his head, where the blue horror had bitten him. Caraoc was bruised but not seriously harmed. Casaythe and Vryala were riddled with small cuts and scratches, minor wounds that the balms helped to numb and would soon be forgotten about. Karonaths' armour had held out surprisingly well, and though her head and body was bruised within the golden suit from all the knocks and blows, she had no real wounds to grumble about. Even Varin himself seemed worse off than some members of the group, the Highborn also having been caught on the shoulder as well as on the upper arm by two halberd strokes. He emptied a balm into each cut, the flesh sizzling painfully as the blood clotted, before some of the ingredients Yurul used in his concoction started to numb the wound.

They were still sat about recovering, be it drinking from water flasks or still struggling to catch their breath, or closing their eyes to appreciate the brief moment of relative calm under the warmth of the newly risen sun, when a dark shadow fell across them. Varin was the first to his feet, the group not even noticing him rise, just that one moment he was knelt with them and the next he was stood leaning on the hilt of his blade. Moving even more subtle than the Noble, Elysian seemed to vanish a moment later. The rest of the group saw the Mage nearby a moment later, helping the Midnight Guardians to hurl bodies into bloody piles. The Shadowmancer just looked like any of the other mercenaries and serfs now helping clear the carnage from the gate square, who had seemingly been there the entire time lost in the tide of battle. They weren't the only ones who had been helping the Midnight Guardians win this fight, but by Khaine they knew they must have tried the hardest and done the most. Judging by the figure that now loomed over them, even as they rose to their feet beside their Master, their actions had not gone unnoticed either.

Kalius Bane clutched her angular black iron helmet beneath one arm, the plume of red hair that topped it tucked into her armpit. Aside from removing her battle helm, the Captain of the Midnight Guard was of course still garbed in her fine battle plate. The black armour was curved to sharp points that were as much weapons themselves as they were decoration, her elbows, knees, fists and even feet baring sharp tips. Her armour was hardly the deadliest thing in her arsenal however, the dreaded Starmace still clutched in her other hand. It's heavy, barbed head was still slick with gore and several of it's jagged spikes still held slithers of flesh and meat. They moved their gaze from her wargear to her face, her dark hair bound in a top knot above her ice white face. None of them could match her stare however, for as darkly beautiful as she was her cold blue eyes showed her true nature. She was a killer, as deadly as they come. She spoke with the voice of the Drach, and his will was done through her. As his Champion, she was a vessel for his authority and power. To be approached by her was to be approached by the Drach. And yet, much to the groups surprise, this time Bane said something they did not expect to hear from her cold lips.

"The Drach of Vikarh congratulates you, Varin Blackthorn, on aiding with this victory."



For a long moment, they thought that was all she was going to say.

"As is the law of the Witch King, you will receive your share of the spoils. A handful of these slaves will be brought to your estate in due course. As is also the law, this time that of my Master, your Drach, you will lend your aid once more in rebuilding the City. We can discuss these matters further when the Council next convenes, at midnight tonight."

Again, she let the words settle for a long moment before she continued.

There is more. For delivering the Drach the knowledge of the arch traitor Kronus, he has rewarded you with overseeing the first month of his imprisonment. Am I right in assuming you employ a torturer as well as this band of thugs?"

The insult was almost accidental. Almost. Varin nodded, for apothecary was only one of Yuruls' two job titles. At this, Bane let a dark smile play across her expression.

"Good. Then Kronus will be brought to you as well. See that his time with you is slow and painful, but leave enough of him intact for us to work our own inflictions upon him when we take him back."

She scowled at the group surrounding Varin for a moment, enough for Caraoc to stiffen as if caught out and Elysian, who had been listening in from some distance, to look away quickly and discreetly.

"You have a fine group of mercenary soldiers at your disposal Blackthorn, yet I see you have no seer from the convents. Most Councillors with your station like to keep themselves, how should I put this... well protected."

"...What do you mean?" It was the first time Blackthorn had spoken since Bane had approached them.

"The Drach has also gifted you with the Council seat that until today was held by Kronus. You're in the second circle now. Quick work, Blackthorn..."

Her meaning in the last part was obvious and did not need saying out loud. Others would notice Varins' sudden rise through the ranks of the Council, so now he had to watch his back, or rather have someone watch it for him. All of Druchii society was full of cut throat back stabbing, but politics was known for it even more than most. The more power Varin acquired, all the more dangerous his position became. As the mention of the convents passed untouched by Varin, something Elysian and Caraoc would have to thank their quick witted employer for later, the Mages' breathed a sigh of relief. At last Bane seemed to have finished speaking her piece, but just as she started to turn to leave she looked back at the group one more time, her eyes settling on Vryala.

"You would make a fine Midnight Guardian someday, lass" was all she said before she left.

[Dauricha]

Bloody piss gutted..., Phalx carried on to mutter and curse. It was more then awkward applying the balms. He gave grunting thanks to Vryala as she tended Karonath. His cloak was off, as were his chest and shoulder leathers. He shivered in the cold, the adrenaline leaving him. He was a cold wretch sat on a bloody battlefield, wounded and batter. By the gods he needed a drink. He ignored Banes insults as he tended to his wound as best he could. He survived, he might even see a bit of that loot.

So Varin had risen the ranks. At least that was something, maybe a bit more coin in his purse, a better standing in Virkarh. Of course there was the greater threat of attack, but that seemed to be the standard of his life for the last few years.

He had done all he could for the wound, only a small trickle was seeping out from under the foul smelling balm. He quick wrapped himself again in his armour and cloak. Kronus was to come with them. Just what they needed, a volatile prisoner with links to dark powers. Of course that would be safe. He needed a drink, a week to himself, and a few whores when he felt a bit stronger. For now he stood, as the forces of Virkarh moved about him. Something had been achieved this day. He wasn't fully certain what that meant, but no doubt it would come clearer later. Or he'd be too drunk to care.

What now, oh boss? He asked simply of Varin.

[Calisson]

Six mercenaries and a Noble had regrouped around the most wounded of them.
As first aid healed those in need, Caraoc loitered nearby, checking unconvincingly the fallen Chosen.
Some were dying but not dead, and would react one last time to the bit of pain that Caraoc could inflict them, for sheer pleasure and to pass his nerves.
At the same time, the looter was checking for the occasional necklace or ring which could be of value, a meagre compensation to what he had expected a couple of hours before.

Suddenly the atmosphere changed.
Caraoc realized that Bane had come. He freezed on the spot.
Her image was already engraved in his mind, with the first encounter then the vision.
To see her alive so close, that was a sight that he would never be able to forget.
No matter how hard he wished.

"you have no seer from the convents", she said.
Who needs a seer when you have such a soothsayer as me? imagined Caraoc while half closing his eyes, recalling his vision of the golden tablet, of Bane's defeat in duel.
Then he recalled that Bane herself was a living proof of his limits in predicting the future.
No, he was no seer. Not exactly.
Was Caraoc the Astromancer gifted as to observe in the Stars the winds of Destinee?
Was Caraoc a pilot of Fate, able to find a path towards a better future?
He sighed. Hmmmmm.

When he opened and focused his eyes again, the Drach's champion was gone.
All his companions were staring at their leader.

For the first time in ages, Caraoc could'nt find anything to say, let alone to sing.

Remaining silent.
_________________
Caraoc the scald pilot - WS3 S4 T2 D5 I5 - A saga or it didn't happen!
Equipment: staff, repeater handbow (7 clips), Sea Dragon Cloak,
Inventory: "Beastbane" Horn - Mount: Locke (ex Fiat's) - Gold: 100
Skills: Power of Azyr (2), Evasion
Class: Mage (Astromancer)

[Raneth]

Karonath seemed a little shook up, but otherwise largely unharmed; with a smile, V obliged the Khainite's request for a drink and passed her a flask of fresh water before taking a well-deserved swig of her own. The pain in her limbs only served to broaden her grin, relishing the notion of being alive she helped Phalx up on his feet. These two mercenaries, they were truly without fear; and even though the moans of the dying yet filled the air Vryala already looked forward to fighting side by side with them again some day soon. Elysian, too, had cemented his place in the group by his bravery and cunning - no one else could have pulled off that stunt with the gate.

With the Shade leaning on her shoulder, V then regarded the Corsairs; despite her initial misgivings she had to admit the two newcomers were possessed of stout hearts and sharp minds. Should they continue to perform like this, V could foresee little trouble getting used to them. That said, in the end it was Blackthorn's call whether they were allowed to stay, though after such an epic battle even he would be hard-pressed to deny them his trust.

It was then that all fell silent, as Kalius Bane approached the group. V looked at the Midnight Commander with a different eye now that they had served alongside each other, and remained respectfully silent as Varin was declared Persona Grata once again, though she did remove her helmet to reveal a smile of pure satisfaction. She thought of Kirathi, so righteously vanquished, and her boss Kronus, of whom old Yurul would have the pleasure of showing the true meaning of pain. Fiat, Saldrimek... I hope you'll be enjoying the show at Khaine's side, old friends. Every time that traitor cries in agony for the next month, it will be in your honor!

Vryala's reverie was shattered when, upon making to leave, Bane deigned to address her directly. If indeed she was the voice of the Drach, no warrior in Vikarh could ever hope for greater recognition, and V realized all too well.

She simply nodded, mute, then put her helmet back on. None would see her tears of pride and joy.

[Nightcall]

"So that's it... all over..." The thought settled upon the corsair and his exhaustion finally hit him. Under the gaze of so many high rankers, he dared not show any sign of weakness, instead blinking slowly and wiping his brow. Varin had earned himself a promotion out of the fight, and Casaythe had no doubt that it had been earned tenfold from what he had heard about the noble already.

'Will you be needin' me and the pilot, my lord?' he asked. So tired was he, that he did not hesitate to ask questions, despite the recent conversation about Kronus' little treat in store as an esteemed guest of the newly elevated lord. Casaythe and Caraoc had been drafted in at last minute to bolster the city's defences and had been thrown in with this band. They had seen the bloody deaths of two of their number, and Casaythe felt awkward walking in a dead man's shoes.

He nudged Caraoc who was quietly stood there, covered in bits of pink slime and blue ichor. In a hushed voice he whispered, 'If we're dismissed, how about we head to the docks and see about commandeering us a vessel...'

[Drainial]

Elysian's predictions were proved true as Bane approached the group. Elysian was safely beneath notice shifting corpses into piles presumably for later burning. As he shifted them he kept an eye out for purses, jewelled daggers and the like. When the midnight captain sauntered away Elysian rejoined the rest and nodded a grateful thanks to Vryala as she tossed him one of her precious healing vials. Daubing the mixture on the back of his neck Elysian winced as it stung but soon some form of numbing agent kicked in soothing the pain.

Waiting around, doing a little light corpse looting.

[Calisson]

'If we're dismissed, how about we head to the docks and see about commandeering us a vessel...', said Casaythe.

That was a pleasant perspective. Caraoc grinned and sighed.
Ahh, going at sea... far away from this scene of doom... real clouds, clean horizon, fresh breeze, seagulls and harpies, dolphins and mermaids...
a well maintained ship, a real crew spirit...

A crew? He ceased to smile, his dream broke and scattered away.
"Where will you find a crew? All survivors will be busy for a while reconstructing that city.
These companions are what we have found best in months. Better wish to stay with them for a while."
Especially Elysian. He had a trick or two to teach Caraoc about using magic winds with subtlety.

Talking.


_________________
Caraoc the scald pilot - WS3 S4 T2 D5 I5 - A saga or it didn't happen!
Equipment: staff, repeater handbow (7 clips), Sea Dragon Cloak,
Inventory: "Beastbane" Horn - Mount: Locke (ex Fiat's) - Gold: 100
Skills: Power of Azyr (2), Evasion
Class: Mage (Astromancer)

[Layne]

K let the water fall down her throat, just holding the bottle there and letting the drinking thing do itself. The water tasted better than anything that had passed her lips at Blackthorns table. If all she had to do to turn water into wine was to kill half a northern army, she mused, then let northern armies be brought. She passed the flask back to V and looked about. Here was the boss doing his thing, and here were those two corsairs back again. K saw that V had bluish goo on her, and so did the magic corsair.

She knew what it meant, but did not have time to ask ; just then Bane came up, and the magic men disappeared down their own shirt sleeves. She didn't seem to want to make the group die anymore, which was well. K didn't feel ready for another fight, and certainly not with that lady. She wanted sleep and breakfast, and then she suddenly wondered if Blackthorn still had a house to go to.

[Calisson]

Caraoc turned towards Varin, who had remained silent to Casaythe's question.
"Compliments for you promotion on the battlefield, Sir.

Do you have any plan with us two corsairs?"
To everybody's surprise including himself, this was the time when Caraoc made his mercenary pledge for allegiance
- his own odd way, not even realizing he did not leave any time for an answer.
This would remain famous for a long time among fellow mercenaries:
"Dear lord gotta let us know: Should we stay or should we go?
If you tell us "you are mine", We'll be here till end of time
So you got to let us know: Should we stay or should we go?

It's always please please please, We'll be happy with some fees
One day is fine, and next is black, So if you want us watch your back,
Well come on and let us know: Should we stay or should we go?

Should I stay or should I go now? Should we stay or should we go now?
If we go there will be trouble, And if we stay it will be double
So come on and let us know!

This indecision's bugging me. If you don't want us, set us free
Exactly whom we're supposed to be, Don't you know which clothes even fit me?
Come on and let us know: Should we cool it or should we blow? "

Singing.

OOC: The Clash - Should I Stay Or Should I Go
Lyrics: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/c/clash/shou ... 31789.html
Soundtrack with karaoké: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GqH21LEmfbQ

OOC: every time I wish to edit and complement my preivous post, someone posts in between...
_________________
Caraoc the scald pilot - WS3 S4 T2 D5 I5 - A saga or it didn't happen!
Equipment: staff, repeater handbow (7 clips), Sea Dragon Cloak,
Inventory: "Beastbane" Horn - Mount: Locke (ex Fiat's) - Gold: 100
Skills: Power of Azyr (2), Evasion
Class: Mage (Astromancer)

[Nightcall]

Casaythe was surprised by Caraoc's reply. Even more so when he put a hand on his heart and sang an oath to the noble Varin. The shipless captain looked away and gritted his teeth. What had caused the change of heart? Had his pilot forsaken the sea for city life? At this point he felt like slapping him on the back of the head.

He made no such pledge himself, instead waiting to see what the lord said to his question. His corsair life bound him to no-one. Freedom was his whilst he crested the waves with the wind in his sails. Free of the intrigues and deceits of the urban life, on the ocean any man could become a king. He had no desire to trade that for a life of servitude for a Household, no matter how noble or influential it was. His experience in Vikarh had assured his belief that too much time away from ship was bad for the spirit. It had nearly separated his from his body numerous times already in the last few days.

Too annoyed to loot corpses, he instead toyed with his newly found talisman and lost himself in his thoughts.

[Kinslayer]

OOC - Things have progressed a little faster than expected on the moving side of things, we put a deposit on a flat this morning and should be moving in over the weekend. It could be a week or two before we get settled and get online again, hopefully not but who knows. This could be my last post in some time therefore so I am going to wrap this scene up and end the chapter here (it was about to happen anyway).

IC -

The mercenaries were left standing with Varin after Kalius Bane walked away, most of them now just wanting to return to the estate to rest and recover, the Corsairs' wondering what lay ahead for them. Caraoc sang his intent to stay to Varin as he began to walk, leading the group south away from the gate. The Drach had already flown off, now retreating from sight as he swept over the different districts of the City, getting a birds eye view of what remained. The Midnight Guardians were starting to disperse as well, only a small detachment remaining behind to repair the gate and oversee the cleaning up of the scene of the battle. Vryala watched them work, silently contemplating the possibility of one day being a member of that elite force of warriors. Karonath on the other hand thought only of rest, and that she would one day willingly go through such trials all over again. Phalx wanted to get back to the estate so Yurul could tend to his wounds. Elysian followed their others, having scavenged some 13 gold amongst the small daggers, hand axes, chaos trinkets and other small items found on the bodies of the Chosen he had been moving.

Casaythe asked again what Varin wanted them to do next, now that Caraoc had finished singing to the newly promoted Noble. Varin said only one thing as they left the square, leading them the rest of the way in silence.

"I think I will have need of you two yet, friends. Already you have proved your worth to my cause, but let us retire to my estate and discuss this further this afternoon."



***


The group assembled in the feasting chamber, just to the left of the grand entrance hall of House Blackthorn. They had returned to the estate several hours before, the various members of the group parting ways until they were called to reconvene. Phalx visited Yurul, while Karonath, Elysian and Vryala simply went to their separate chambers to rest and recover. Varin took the time to give the Corsairs' a quick tour of the ground floor of the mansion house, though spoke no further of what lay ahead for the pair in that time. He showed them the feasting chamber and the kitchens beyond, telling them the servants chambers were behind that, filling the lower left side of the house. Right from the entrance hall took them past several living rooms and on to the Apothecarium, where Yurul lived and worked in several large chambers. This wing of the house showed clear signs of being younger than the rest of the building, having been rebuilt at some point in recent years. At the back of the entrance hall was a door that led to the rest of the ground floor, but they were not told what lay beyond. The stairs either side of that door led up to a balcony on the first floor, where the vast library was found to the left, and the mercenaries' living chambers to the right. The upper floor was Varins' floor, and remained a secret to them all.

Varin joined them in the feasting chamber, arriving as he often did through the small door at the back of the room, which no doubt led to the same corridors and chambers as the door under the balcony in the entrance hall did. The Noble was carrying with him a few rolled up parchments and a small bag, which he lay down gently as he took his throne like seat at the head of the long dark wood table. As always, Vryala sat to his right on the closest chair, Karonath sitting opposite her on his left. Further down the table sat Phalx and Elysian, the Shadowmancer having changed seats now that Fiat and Saldrimek did not sit alongside them. Phalx was next to K, so Elysian now found himself sat beside Vryala. The Corsairs' had taken the next two seats, Caraoc next to Elysian and Casaythe across from him beside the Shade. All eyes turned to Blackthorn as he arrived, awaiting news or instruction, all eager for reward and the promise of a hot meal. As if in answer to their thoughts, Varin clapped his hands and the slave waiting silently by the kitchen doors opened them, allowing a procession of servants to enter carrying dishes and bowls, glasses and bottled wine. Within minutes a feast worthy of the kings of lesser races was arrayed on the table between them, and Varin let them tuck in before he began to speak.

"My friends, my allies, a feast to celebrate a great victory this day, but also one to remember the fallen. Here's to Fiat, to Saldrimek, and to all the lesser Druchii who also died for House Blackthorn this day."

His words received nods of agreement, muttered prayers or silent thoughts of remembrance. They gave a moment to their fallen comrades, before Varin eventually continued.

"There is much to do, and much I must consider with all else that has transpired this day. The east wall will be repaired at once, as a resident Noble I will have to provide half my slaves to aid in this duty, a tax that will leave our own workforce under strength and worn thin. Luckily Bane will be bringing us some strong northern slaves, who I will send to the wall so more of the trained servants can remain. Fortunately my estate made it through this battle relatively unscathed, mainly thanks to Sevro and his men who defended the street outside. The Guard Captain is tallying his dead as we speak, but rest assured he is unhurt and enough guards survive to man the estate until more can be trained. That means I don't need you helping out here, which is good news for me as I need you to be elsewhere. I'll explain in a moment, but first I need to sort out a few formalities..."



The Highborn unrolled two of the three parchments, which turned out to be oaths of binding, contracts which would induct Caraoc and Casaythe into his employment. To be offered mercenary work by a Noble, especially one of Varins' new status, was rare and was not to be discarded lightly, but a blood signature was required, and one was quite literally signing their life away in some respects. The Noble had to be protected, the Noble had to be obeyed, and only the Noble could release you or tell you otherwise. Varin produced the two documents and took down the Corsairs' names, before handing them over to be signed. He could tell them no more about what would happen next until they either accepted his offer of work or chose to leave now and be forever forgotten by House Blackthorn. The one thing he did assure them about was that their individual skills could well prove to be essential for the next task he needed to the group to perform. Caraoc had already sung his decision to Varin however, and Casaythe was no doubt to accept the offer as well.

Next, Varin produced six smaller bags from the bag he had brought to the table. Each of them contained a heavy weight in gold, and the Noble passed them along the table, first two bags to Caraoc and Casaythe, and then the other four to the rest of the group. Each of the original members of the group had received 2000 gold coins, a small portion of Varins' new wealth that they had earned in recent times for all they had done in his service. It was their biggest payload yet, and they relished the thought of what they could spend so much gold on once the market was restored. For Caraoc and Casaythe, there was still a generous sum with 750 gold each, more than enough for a few days hard labour and bloody work. They and Elysian couldn't help but wonder how much the golden artefact they had found was really worth, but knew that even melted down and sold as raw gold it would equate to a small fortune. Varin seemed to pick up on their thoughts, for that was the next topic of the conversation.

"I know you are wondering what will become of the golden tablet, but for now cast such thoughts from your mind. I will explain in time, but for now just know that it is as safe as it can be within my possession inside Vikarh."

Varin stood up, before laying a hand on the third parchment he had brought to the table, this one still rolled up and sealed with his own wax stamp.

"I must rest, for I have Council duties to attend to tonight, and may be gone for more than one night. This parchment is your next instructions, to be opened and read by you all when the sun next rises. At dawn, not before, and not any later. To do otherwise would compromise everything I next intend to achieve, and trust me, we don't want that."

The group were left to count their coin, eat their fill, and wonder what new instructions awaited them the following morning inside the letter. Whatever it was, for now they would simply have to wait.



END OF CHAPTER 8 OF GROUP 22


OOC - Thanks for everything guys, this has been going for nearly 4 years now and has become a big thing now. It is not something I intend to stop any time soon, I have plans for the next chapter already, and would like to start it asap. Looks like 2013 will be an interesting and eventful year for me at least though, so we'll see how it goes. Thanks again guys, this chapter has been a blast!


Stat / Skill Upgrades Earned in Chapter 8:

Elysian - change Power of Chamon (1) for Power of Chamon (2)

Vryala - change Anarin Sarath (1) for Anarin Sarath (2)

Karonath - new skill: Drukh Kaganth (1)

Phalx - new skill: Suithenlu Khythan (1)

Casaythe - new skill: Endurance

Caraoc - +1 Toughness

(Cal - you're on your way to the skills you want but at just T2 I think recent events will have hardened you up a bit first and foremost)


Also, not a skill that has just been earned, but Caraoc and Casaythe should also now include "Raiding" as a skill. This will be part of a new Corsair skill path so both already know it, whether or not this will be an official skill path I do not know but I intend to use it in this group. The skill path will be as follows: Basic Sailing - Raiding - Shipmastery (or something along those lines). So you are at both already at SP2.

[Calisson]

As they were going back towards Blackthorn's, Caraoc pressed Varin about his intentions with them two.
Varin replied positively: "I think I will have need of you two... Let's discuss this further this afternoon."

Casaythe was obviously worried, even pissed off.
When Caraoc asked him about it, the captain blamed the pilot for forsaking a life of freedom at sea, and contemplating a life of servitude.
Caraoc replied:
"Where will you find a ship and a crew in this desolated city? We have searched for months in vain.
At Blackthorn's, we will keep high our fighting spirit. We will get powerful allies. We will learn the resources Vikarh has to offer.
This noble is on the rise. He will need resources. We brought him the tablet already, he will want more.
We can convince him to entrust you with a naval expedition. He has the resources to give you a ship.
Or do you have a better plan?"

-=-=-

At Blackthorn's, at the end of the meal, the two corsairs were given an oath of binding, to be signed with their blood.
The decision was to be taken within hours:
to engage with Varin and his mercenaries for the foreseeable future,
or to leave and never come back.

Caraoc told Casaythe:
"Just the two of us, we achieve nothing but bitterness and decrepitude.
I have higher ambitions, and Varin has the means to make them happen."
The Astropilot did not specify that "higher" was meant to be understood in a very litteral way.

Signing.
(no, it is not a typo, I did not mean singing, that's really signing).

OOC: Nice to RP in RPG 22! Thanks again for the invitation. Hope I did not deceive anyone with too original an approach.
Looking forwards to 2013 and beyond (lifetime, you said...).
_________________
Caraoc the scald pilot - WS3 S4 T3 D5 I5 - A saga or it didn't happen!
Equipment: staff, repeater handbow (7 clips), Sea Dragon Cloak,
Inventory: "Beastbane" Horn - Mount: Locke (ex Fiat's) - Gold: 850
Skills: Power of Azyr (2), Evasion, Raiding
Class: Mage (Astromancer)+ 750 gold; +1 Toughness; +"Raiding" as a skill, aye aye.

[Dauricha]

OOC: Well thats a fancifully named skill. Who knows maybe next year the group art will be finished. More updates of it here. http://www.mikaspileofanime.com/6_druchii_commission/ Still glad we are doing this, its as fun as always.

IC: Phalx sat and drank, half listening to Varin. He grabbed the pouch of coins, feeling the comfortable weight of it. He was tired, deep down to his bones. Sal, Fiat. The pain was dulled now, Yurul was good at his work. He drank more, feeling the searing spirits run down his throat. He bleary glanced up at the two corsairs. Not many of them were left. Not even he had been here as long as Vryala and Karonath. He'd remember to find the Khainite a good bottle of something over the next few days.

He finished off the bottle of spirits, swaying to his feet as he left the room. Clearly the pain dampeners Yurul had given him didn't mix to well with the strong drink. He threw the empty bottle at a slave, as he stalked the corridors to his room. He stripped of the loose shirt he'd been wearing, wincing slightly as he stretched his wounded shoulder. He sat on his bed, the world wavering before him. He remember remembering his family and the northern woods. So long ago, when the scars from the wrist shackles were his biggest, now minor scratches compared to everything else he had suffered.

He went to the window and vomited out of it. Soon his gut was empty, and he guzzled down a large flagon of water, throwing that out of the window as well. With nothing else to do or think he lay down on the bed, throwing a thick cover over himself, oblivion swallowing him again.

[Nightcall]

Casaythe didn't say much to Caraoc's justification of his oath making. He just followed the group in silence back to the Estate, considering his future. The pilot had done well enough steering him through choppy waters, even at times when he disagreed with the direction he was suggested to steer in. Was this another such situation? He was beginning to think the pilot's sense of direction was not limited to navigating the seas, or land at that matter. He seemed to have powers allowing him to navigate fate itself. "Best keep that quiet" he thought, smirking to himself as he wondered if his friend had made a pact with the ruinous Lord of Change. It might explain the blue skin...

'You're right.' he concluded as the group reached the gates of the Blackthorn manse. 'If we keep this up, I'll soon have all the gold and slaves I need to get a swift corsair vessel. Then I can go find the Willbreaker and slit the throat of that cur that cheated her from me.' He patted his friend on the back and walked through the guarded gateway, following the others into the estate.

The corsair entered the mansion itself, and stared at the finery whilst they were received into the House. He whistled and remarked, 'Fancy!', before being shown to a chamber where he finally managed to clean himself up. Leaving his armour and glaive in his room, he joined the others in the feast hall wearing a sea-green kheitan over a light mail tunic, leather bracers covering his wrists, matching the dark brown of his boots. From a belt on his hip hung his short sword along with his gold in a purse. His skin and hair had been scrubbed clean of blood and gore, and he wore his mane of white hair loose over his shoulders.

When Varin entered, he brought with him three scrolls. Two of which were contracts. The Lord's intent was soon to be made clear. After a moment of respect for the fallen, the Lord stated his plans for the two corsairs. Casaythe looked at Caraoc as he carefully made his consideration. 'I imagine it's an offer I can't refuse, eh?' he smiled, meeting the noble's eyes. He had seen treaties and contracts refused before, and was not stupid enough to decline. Such an act would be refusing an alliance to the House. And by doing so, would make him an enemy.

The corsair drew his sword, the steel chiming on the scabbard as it was withdrawn, and ran his thumb along the keen edge. A rivulet of crimson ran into his palm, and he smudged his thumb on the parchment to seal the deal with blood, before taking a quill and making his signature, in surprisingly elegant Druchast. 'You've nothing to fear from me now, m'lord.' He joked as his blade was put back in its sheath. He knew his place full well, and a noble like Varin would hardly be wary of a sea dog like Casaythe Blackstorm.

He took the gold and emptied his drink, as he dwelt on the implications of these recent events.

Feasting.

((OOC: Have really enjoyed RPing with you guys; Kinslayer, you are a legend of a Mod and it's an honour to have been invited. Hope the move goes well. ))

[Raneth]

The trip to Yurul was a pleasant one, despite V having to inform the him of the deaths of Xenan and Obsidian. The prospect of torturing the disgraced Noble Kronus put a gleam in the old apothecary's eyes even Vryala had not seen before. All in all, the future looked pretty bright for House Blackthorn right now. Down at the feasting table she found herself sat besides Elysian, and she greeted the Shadowmancer with a heartfelt smile. So quickly had he been able to earn their trust... V couldn't help but wonder if the Corsairs would manage the same. Together, they enjoyed a well-deserved meal and a handsome pay, the war seemingly forgotten for the time.

Vryala knew she'd improved during the last few months, and despite her minor injuries was quite eager to test her skills. There was still some time before they could read their orders, which V imagined would have to do with the rebuilding of Vikarh - power never came without responsibilities, after all - and so she sought out Sevro after the feast, intending to spar with him.

Hopes the Captain will oblige.

OOC: Huzzah for 22! Don't worry, sea dogs, you'll feel right at home

[Drainial]

Elysian nearly missed the meeting with Varin having collapsed into his bed almost before removing his armour. Years of larcenous living had drummed the habits of light sleeping into him however and he just had time to wipe away the worst of the grime from his face and hands in a basin of tepid water before slipping on a fresh shirt and making his way down to the feasting chamber. Even with all the grandeur around him Elysian reflected that having freshly laundered and pressed clothes whenever he went to look in his draws was perhaps his favourite thing about service to a great house.

Taking his place at the grand table however he was reminded of just how much such service could demand of an elf. Where once he had sat almost at the end of the long mahogany table now he found himself right next to Vryala where she sat at the right hand of their lord. Speaking of right hands Sevro was nowhere to be seen, doubtless despite having a night of combat and toil the nearly equal to there's the good captain would still be on his feet. The appearance of platter after platter of hot food was enough to lift his spirits once more though and it was from behind half a diced duck in plum sauce that he saw the two corsairs sign their way into their merry band on a more permanent basis. The maudlin warrior looked none too happy about the whole thing but the money was sure to soothe whatever daemonic troubled him. It certainly perked Elysian up to heft a full two grand in one hand and know that it was his, and he hadn't even stolen it. Not that there was anything on the market he was immediately interested in buying, it would take the city some time to pull itself back together and who knew how many of the shop keepers were still alive? Still one elf's death was another's opportunity, he could wait.

In the mean time Elysian had the comfort of good food, the knowledge that a comfortable if spartan bedroom awaited him up stairs and, not to be discounted, the warm feeling that came with staying alive when so many others had not. Soon he was sure Blackthorn would find another half suicidal mission for them but in the meantime things could be worse. Perhaps he would have time to do as he had been meaning to for some time and seek out the noble's house blacksmith. With the money for good materials and an ever increasing mastery of the wind of Chamon it was high time he began to work towards his dream of crafting magical items of his own. That was for tomorrow however, right now he planned to go straight back to bed, perhaps commandeering the services of an idle slave on the way. A life in service did have its advantages after all.

Sitting back and watching. He will take the money of course.

OOC: 2000 gold and power of Chamon level 2. Not bad as rewards go

[Calisson]

After the meal and the signature ceremony, there was not much to do till the next day.

Caraoc found his way to his new bedroom. That was a luxury he had not enjoyed in months, pretty much since he arrived in Vikrah.
At the time, what he had earned from his last raid had quickly vanished, half of it spent in women, alcohol and gambling, the other half stupidly wasted.

Caraoc took a well deserved nap, which helped a lot his recovery from the tiring previous day.
The two flying experiences he had just lived inspired his dreams.
He was flying. Around him were enchanting seagulls, harpies, penguins and phoenixes, flying elegant circles around.
Suddenly came from the horizon the Drake's dragon. All flying creatures vanished. Caraoc remained frozen in the sky, as naked as at his birth. The dragon rushed towards him.
Caraoc awoke, sweating. He went to the bucket and becalmed.

He had a new dream. He was on expedition. In Ind. The large city was burning. Endless files of slaves were escorted by the corsairs to the ships.
That day, one inhabitant of that city would remain free and alive. He was sitting on a carpet. That carpet was flying. No matter how hard they tried, the Druchii never managed to hit him with their bolts.
Caraoc had observed that magic with envy.

Caraoc woke up again. He could never sleep more than four hours in a row anyway. Old pilot's habits.
The building was silent. Probably everyone else enjoyed their rest after the demanding night they had.

In his last dream, Caraoc flashed back to the shores of Empire. They were causing havoc in a poor area inhabited by retarded fishermen and peasants.
One human female escaped them all: she sat on a broom, cursed the Druchii, and, to their astonishment, took off and vanished not to be ever seen again.
This time, Caraoc woke up and could not fall asleep again.

What was the meaning of his dreams? There was something to investigate about flying.
Flying is a safe way to remain out of harm, as the Indman and the Empire witch testified.
Flying by magic next to the Drake is suicidal, as the first dream recalled.

How could flying be made legal, at least in the appearance?
"Bingo! Let's pretend I'm on a magic carpet."
The room's rag did not look much like magic. And it would be cumbersome to carry around.
Would Caraoc's Sea Dragon Cloak be more credible? At least, Caraoc was carrying it already all the time.
He place it on the floor and sat on it. Nah, it did not look magic enough.
His horn was a magic object. Could it replace the broom?
Caraoc took the horn like if it was a mount. Mmm. Maybe.
Why not combine? The cloak was placed on the horn, like a blanket on the back of a horse. Caraoc sat on it.
The cloak would provide more surface for Azyr force to propell the air pilot.
Yeah, that was worth a try.
But the tiny room was too narrow for such experiences. Caraoc did not want to leave his own place as neatly washed up as he had left the guardhouse with the pink horror.
Let's find the Shadowmancer and ask him advice.

Caraoc left his room and went to find a slave, asking him to show where Elysian's room was.
He knocked.

Looking for Elysian.
_________________
Caraoc the scald pilot - WS3 S4 T3 D5 I5 - A saga or it didn't happen!
Equipment: staff, repeater handbow (7 clips), Sea Dragon Cloak,
Inventory: "Beastbane" Horn - Mount: Locke (ex Fiat's) - Gold: 850
Skills: Power of Azyr (2), Evasion, Raiding
Class: Mage (Astromancer)

[Drainial]

The knock on the door was not entirely unwelcome but it did wake Elysian from a sublime stupor. Lying in bed he opened his eyes and tried in vain to remember the name of the house maid immediately to his left. After a moment he decided to let her sleep a little longer for the sake of not knowing what else to do with her. She was a slave and therefore obliged to oblige as it were but she had not seemed shy of an excuse to stop scrubbing the blood from things.

With a cry to wait just a moment Elysian fished a shirt and trousers from the floor and wriggled into them. Noting the clock on the wall he saw he had been distracted for a couple of hours, plenty of time for something to have happened. Opening the door he saw Caroac, newly signed up and with an expression on his face that even in their brief acquittance Elysian had come to associate with mad cap plans.
"Something you wanted?" he asked

[Calisson]

The door opened.
Caraoc did not notice anything strange about Elysian's dress, nor did he worry whether he was alone.
Himself was carrying his horn on one hand and his cloak on the other.

'Something you wanted?', asked the Shadowmancer.
"Yes. Where would it be possible to practice safely our art?
I have plenty of experiments in mind. It requires a little more space than I have in my room, you'd guess. Especially, I need a very high ceiling.
By the way, you may wish to participate, too?"
Caraoc was asking naively where was the magic workshop.
But an indoor shooting range would work, too.
Asking where's 'the' place.
_________________
Caraoc the scald pilot - WS3 S4 T3 D5 I5 - A saga or it didn't happen!
Equipment: staff, repeater handbow (7 clips), Sea Dragon Cloak,
Inventory: "Beastbane" Horn - Mount: Locke (ex Fiat's) - Gold: 850
Skills: Power of Azyr (2), Evasion, Raiding
Class: Mage (Astromancer)

[Drainial]

Yep, from the sounds of things there were plans in the offing and given that Caroac had yet to propose one that was not mad in some sense the chances were this would be as well. The question caused Elysian to pause for a moment.
"To be honest I have't had cause to look, my arts don't take much room to experiment with by and large. Most of the time I just have to innovate in the field. Still if you want to try something out then Sevro might seal off part of the training grounds in the barracks for us, even here it would be best to keep things a little circumspect. I trust Blackthorn as far as I trust anyone and I trust Sevro to follow his lead but it never hurts to be sure. We can ask him."

He knew he wouldn't want to leave the corsair alone, left to his own devices the mage might get them all blown to Cathay.