315 replies to this topic

[Vithar-133]

Vithar was surprised that the group had deigned to let him stay with him for long. They mistrusted him, felt he carried trouble in his bag, and that he was worthless. The one thing that Vithar was sure of, was that every time he had the chance to help, they were locking away, or they finished the job before he could render aid. So, he felt it was his time to head back to the Mountains and complete his mission. This he would tell the group. Whether they trusted him or not, they obviously didn't care whether he stayed, or they didn't show that they cared. Everyone seemed to be in the square, so, without giving anyone the chance to admonish him or chastise him about never being a help, he spoke.

"Well, I must away, ere dawn's coming. I've no doubt that I have enemies in this town, and in this party. So, I make my leave now, for the Mountains to the North. I have a mission to fulfill and some other business to complete. If any of you saw me using my magic, I was contacting someone to tell them of my mission," said Vithar, not a hint of falsity in his voice, "If you'll excuse me, I'll not trouble you any longer."

Vithar walked through, ignoring anyone who might have called him. He went to a stables and bought a horse and some tack and soon, was well away form the small town.
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((If it's too early, the god mod Vithar, if you're ok with this, then Vithar is out of the other party member's minds for now.))

[Vortigern]

Theria cast a startled glance at Illyriel.

"I didn't think I was being that obvious," she said.

"It's hard to keep mistrust secret, Theria. You know that," said Illyriel, though the words offered small comfort. Still, she couldn't help but feel they might be better off without him. She shook her head, fatigue suddenly hitting her.

"You know what? Let's just go to bed. I think this town owes us a decent night's sleep at least." Theria turned back towards the inn and the remainder of the group turned to follow her. All but Zhar, that was. Theria called to him.

"It's alright, I still have a lot of work to do on this thing," Zhar called back. "I'll see you all in the morning." Theria shrugged and said nothing more until the morning. It had not been a perfect day.

((OK, in the morning we can discuss how to split up. Vithar, I wasn't intending for you to leave, but I guess you would have noticed. Mental magic, an' all. Anyway, let's go do our own things for a bit. ))

[Copaman]

Tom made the mistake of walking a few feet behind Theria. Once again, he found himself hypnotized by the rhythmic back and forth motion of her hips. What kind of she-devil have I stumbled on? Theria is the first woman to ever infatuate me this much...

Inside the inn, he did not follow her, or anyone else in the party, up the stairs. Instead, he sat at a table by the hearth and pulled his drinking skin out once more. As they went to bed, he got slowly more and more shitfaced, debating on what to do about his feelings for Theria.

On the one hand, I could tell her how I really feel about her... and fail miserably. But there's always a chance! No there's not, stop being such a fool. I could leave it be for a bit, no doubt we'll be spending more time together for this friendship to develop. But then, I have a kingdom to reunite, a scattered people to gather, and a city to build. And I'm going to have to prove my kinship to my father...

This is all going to be a mess.

He took to the alcohol more rapidly, his vision getting blurred and the room slowly spinning. He thought about what the high priestess had told him. Maybe, if I'm really lucky, they'll help me. The gods and their disciples have a way of uniting people. But if I'm a king, I'm going to need a queen..."

As he brought the skin to his lips once more, he stopped himself and stoppered it just before his world went black and he slipped into self-induced unconsciousness. In all reality, the sleep was welcome.

[Rafv Nin IV]

Shava awoke with an earsplitting headache on the floor of the tavern. Groaning, she pushed herself off the ground, and tried to stand up. She crashed back to the ground. Bracing herself, Shava gave herself a quick dose of panic to shake away the alcohol, but only succeeded in rendering her hangover even worse. The gnomess crawled outside, searching for a breath of fresh night air. Where's Kasav? He'd help me...he could shield this, he does shit like that. Why did I drink so much? A quart of amber ale had made its way into the insignificant figure's stomach that night, and the diminutive Shava had never consumed so much. Grimacing, Shava noted the presence of strange creatures dead on the street, but, drunk as she was, did not find that in the least bit of interest. She crawled back into the inn, and curled up on the hearth. Shava did not feel up to the challenge of dragging herself up the stairs.

[some_weirdGuy]

Zhar stayed to do his 'autopsy' of the creatures. A few he cut open to study, but the rest he left intact.
What he did find from his physical examinations of both the insides and outsides of the creatures was that they were an amalgamation of many different creatures. Wolves, bears, even reptilian features in the partial scales and claws.

Some people had walked from their houses shakily, but most were asleep, a few had even walked towards Zhar, questioning
"what are were those things?"
"who are you?"
"are they coming back?", but upon seeing his gruesome work ran back inside, no doubt frightened at the sight of a man, hands covered in blood, examining the creatures internal organs.

Magical examination bore further fruit in Zhars search for information, and he sat down on the side of the path to brew over his findings
So, Vayu must have created these creatures from a mixture of magic and surgery...
...Yesss...
...Demons!...
...no, merely men who have been transformed into beasts...
...yes, Zhar, it would seem that they were all once human...
...It seems they must have been magically imprisoned for a long time, the faint aura of long exposure is still upon them

"Locals claim to have seen beasts like these up in the nearby mountains. Every so often you would hear about disappearances, and they would describe creatures such as these hacking men to shreds as their partner only barely escapes to retell the tale... i never believed it for an instant"
The man walked up towards Zhar, looking over at the large corpses
"well, it seems they were right..." Zhars expression suddenly changed and he hissed at the man, before changing back
"sorry"
the man just looked at him for a moment
"you are very strange"
"why aren't you hiding in your home like everyone else? dont you see im a scary guy with blood soaked hands feeling around inside monsters guts... doesn't that frighten you?"
The man laughed, and crouched down near Zhar
"oh, im a surgeon, im used to gore... are you done with your examination?"
Zhar just looked at the man
"well, i have gained as much information as i can... listen, you cant stay near me, i am... dangerous, unstable"
"I'll KILL YOU!!" he screamed before he could stop it
the man stepped back, a bit shocked
"i have seen insane men before... some say they are possessed, but i know it is merely an illness, like any other"
"yeah, well you cant treat mine, and if you wont leave me then i will leave you... good night"

And with that Zhar stood and walked away, as he neared the corner the man also stood and left. Zhar stepped around and let out a sigh. He had felt his control slipping and the malicious intent in the others. He walked on and washed his hands in the well.

He used his magic to take the corpses into the woods next to the town, although it left a gruesome blood smear all the way along the path, and left them there. The townspeople and woodland creatures could do with the corpses what they wanted, though he doubted the animals would want anything to do with such monstrous creations.

Zhar walked back to the tavern, and sat in a chair by the fire. He looked over to see Shava asleep near the hearth. He smiled, walking upstairs to the empty room she would have been inhabiting, and retrieved a blanket and pillow
oh god, you're not? doing what I think? started one
You Make Me Sick!! raged another
"shut up," he hissed quietly, and brought the blankets and pillow down to Shava, fitting the pillow under her head and lightly placing the blanket over her too. She stirred a little, then grumbled to herself, but didn't wake up, the alcohol keeping her comatose.

Zhar then walked out into the night, the mocking, outraged, disgusted, or scoffing voices in his head all protesting at once. He just ignored them, and continued on his nightly stroll.

((ZOMG!!? Zhar Being Nice!!? Well, dont get use to it, Good Zhar has have alot of control recently, but soon everything will go back to normal.
Oh, and wheres Ash? He hasn't been posting much...))
((VORT: I don't know where Ash is, I think he's just being a little inactive recently. I'll PM him when I can be bothered.))

[Vortigern]

((Right, 'tis time. Let us meander our separate ways for the duration.))

Theria made her way downstairs when she had properly awoken and cleaned herself up a bit. It could never hurt to make yourself look a little prettier. The trick was in finding the right economy. Tom, Illyriel and Bazric were already sitting around a table chatting and eating, and Zhar wandered in as Theria reached the final step.

"Quite the merry gathering," commented Zhar, strolling over and casting a wistful look at the food. He sat down. Theria joined them, gesturing to the barman that she would like something to eat. She had no doubt that the obliging fellow would give her the best his little inn could provide. General chitchat proceeded as expected, the focus being the bestial invasion of the town the night before.

"They're part human, part animal," explained Zhar. "Melds. They have the distinct feel of Winter Vayu's work about them, but there's more to it than that. He must have needed an amplifier of some sort, an artefact to create the necessary magic and the right amount of force. It takes a lot of effort to put things like that together."

"How many do you think he made?" asked Illyriel around his mouthful of meat.

"Hard to say. Depends very much on what kind of artefact he found." Theria began to wonder. If Vayu had managed to create hundreds, maybe thousands of these beasts, they would be spread all over Envael by now, and soon the whole of Arsencia.

"We are sure he's dead, aren't we?" she wondered aloud.

"Absolutely," said Zhar. "His life force dissipated properly when that Furya bastard-" Zhar's face darkened at the memory, and he hissed to himself, a sign the group had by now learned to ignore in the hope that friendly Zhar would return. After a few seconds he did. "After Vayu got his head sliced off. Check with the little gnome if you like, she will have felt it too. He probably had a retention spell around them holding them in check which disappeared the second he died, setting them free to wreak what destruction, havoc and death they can." Zhar grinned wickedly, the thought of death and carnage pleasing him immensely.

"That's some vengeance," said Tom. "How long d'you reckon he'd had them prepared?"

"Not long enough, or he would have released them sooner," replied Zhar. He did seem to enjoy discussing the higher principles of dark magic and global domination through universal bloodletting. "But as best I can guess, between five and ten years, most likely." Tom let out a low whistle.

"Now that's prepared." The conversation moved slowly around, back to general chatter. Shava and Thaos joined them a little while later.

"You know," said Zhar, eventually. "I think we should consider going our separate ways for a while." Theria nodded. She had been thinking something similar herself for a while now. It wasn't that she was uncomfortable around the group, just that she missed the life of the open road, travelling alone and independent.

"That's not a bad idea, actually," said Tom. "We attract too much attention as it is."

"Aye," agreed Bazric. "And Ah've spent far too long aroun' humans an' elves recently. I 'ave greater evils to hunt an' slaughter, yeh know." Theria wasn't sure, but she thought Bazric was grinning under the beard.

"Wow, just like that?" wondered Zhar. "I'd expected at least a little bit of romantic fare-thee-well-ing. Still, there are plenty of things we can all do. Everybody has their own agenda, don't they?"

"Not me." Theria decided to put forth her thoughts. "I'm willing to let everyone go their own way, though. I just haven't had an agenda in years now. It's too hard to live that way."

"Someone should tell Rom and Arngrim," said Illyriel.

"Rom won't mind. He's got schemes of his own, I know that much," Theria agreed. "We talked a lot while we were on the road."

"I'll tell Arngrim," said Tom. "I doubt he'll care."

((Right, fuck off, the lot of you! I'm not going to lock this or anything, just don't bother posting in here. Make your own topic for what you do, and just to remind you all, nobody cares about double-posting when it's your own personal thread. Enjoy your moments of glory, and let's hope this works. ))

[Vortigern]

Theria reached Temora during the hours of daylight; for once travelling had brought her to her destination without it being mere minutes short of sunset. She settled in for the day, finding a comfortable inn, making sure the locals knew not to touch - this was often a problem in towns like this one - and scouting out the area. She sat now in the tavern, the ground floor of her chosen inn, listening intently. Two men were whispering in the corner. Theria honed her senses a little, effectively zooming in on their voices. Even so, she could still hear nothing more than broken sentences and single words.

"Minotaur... Coliseum... Deathknelf... Gamblers... Sal..." Though she was unsure of the exact context, this seemed to Theria to be a signal. She had been sent here to protect Rom, and any talk of a Minotaur could only point her in the right direction. She rose to her feet and strode over to the two men. On the way she drew her knife, and slammed it into the table as she came to stand before them, the blade quivering with the force of the blow.

"What's this about a Minotaur?" she demanded, keeping her voice low.

"Who wants to know?" replied one of the men, sneering.

"Tell me or I will force you to tell me," she said, voice level and easy.

"What could a woman do?" said the man, turning away and laughing. Theria grabbed him by the hair, yanking him out of his seat. She drove her fist into his testicles, forcing him to the ground. As he went down she raised a knee, catching him under the chin. She heard a couple of teeth crack inside his mouth, and let him slide to the floor.

"Now tell me," she said to the other man, sitting down. The man hurriedly began to fill her in. The Minotaur, a powerful black thirteen-footer, was the current champion of the Coliseum, an underground slave-fighting ring. Rumour had it that tonight he would be taking on a Deathknelf, one of the mysterious hybrid elves, previously thought to be long extinct. He gave her the exact location and his coin, the token that would get her inside, after a little pressure.

That evening Theria set out, searching for the Coliseum. It turned out to be far from hidden, taking place in what was once a reservoir, now empty of water and stacked with tiers of seating. In the centre a circle of sand, right at ground level, contained two humans, fighting clumsily with two rusty swords. The growing crowd cheered them on, backing one or the other. The shouts and clashes of metal made for a loud environment. Theria found somewhere to sit and watched the proceedings. One of the humans in the ring managed to get in a hefty slash across the other's chest, and entrails began to spill out onto the sand. The body was cleared away and the sand raked back into halfway decent condition, prepared for the next fight.

Looking around, Theria realised that the arena was now completely full. She cast her glance around, and a multitude of strange folk greeted her eyes. She would have looked closer, but an announcer came forward. A fat man, wearing an expensive-looking jacket, long hair greased back.

"I give you the barbarian of the plains, the Minotaur!" he shouted. Theria leaned forward, eager to see if it was her friend. The gate at one side of the arena opened, and out came Rom, tall and proud, standing to his full height as soon as he had passed under the archway. Theria stared at Rom, striving to see if he had been hurt, or captured, or wounded, anything. She did not even notice as the Deathknelf she had been told about came out. She only looked around when Rom spoke.

"Rom refuse." A moment later the crowd surged forward, seeking to kill the Minotaur. Inflicting pain and making money seemed to be the two most popular pastimes in this town. Theria drew her knife; she did not have her staff or her bow with her. She leapt down the stairs, pushign through the throng, heading straight for Rom. On the other side of the arena she caught a glimpse of a human in a long, swirling coat, eyes fixed intently on Rom. She almost paused on seeing one man so determined amongst this multitude of brawlers, but continued on. If she could reach Rom first she could protect him.

A body fell in front of her, a human, thrown there by one of the rabble. Across the ring she could see the man in the long coat had reached the sand now. She cursed the distraction and leapt down the remaining steps, vaulting over the barrier. Knife in hand she ran forward, straight for the man who now stood at Rom's back. He showed his knives and shouted at the crowd. Theria stopped at his words.

"Just you try it!" he had shouted. Shaking her head, Theria surged forward again, skidding to a halt on the sand, already slippery with gore, next to Rom and the man.

"I'm here, Rom!" she shouted. A face in the crowd jumped forward, and Theria slashed her knife up, catching him across the throat. He went down, blood spurting from his wound.

"You know Rom too?" shouted the man, looking a little confused.

"We've met, yes," Theria shouted back. Another couple of would-be champions leapt forward, and Theria's newfound companion disposed of both of them admirably smoothly. "I'm Theria."

"Morion. But now is not really the time for intro-" he paused, pushing away a brawler who had stumbled back into them. "Introductions, that is."

((And Chapter 2 is back on! We've arrived in Temora, most of us, and now we're fighting for Rom's freedom, and just for the sheer pleasure of fighting, really. The brawl will probably spill out onto the streets in a minute, so you don't have to have been in the arena. It'll be reet. ))

[Vithar-133]

Vithar was watching the fights from one of the back row seats. No one looked twice at him, which Vithar didn't mind.Vithar saw the disgusting owner of the gladiator ring. Obviously, he enjoyed the money from the illegal "sport". Then Vithar noted the first familiar face in months. The minotaur, Rom, refusing to take on a challenger...

Then Vithar sensed something terribly wrong. Apparently, the owner wanted to capitalize on Rom's refusal. Vithar stood, drawing Nyrsavai and his sabre. Quickly focusing, Vithar noted several ways of escape, and several attackers. The attackers jumped, and Vithar slashed, Nyrsavai's edge cut through uncared-for armour. Vithar threw down a shield that one of his attackers had been carrying and rode down the stairs. Anyone who didn't move out of the way found themselves in a world of pain; Vithar had been accelerating the shield with his mental power.

The shield shattered on the rim of the arena, but Vithar had already landed on the Battle Floor. As suddenly as a drawn sword, several people decided that a rune-glowing sword would make an amazing trophy.

"Heh, look at tha', a glowin' knife! Why, that might be good money!"

The attackers never made it to Vithar. They fought with each other, first. Vithar cut them down, his style like a dance. He moved on, taking note of everything going on around him. He saw various attacks parried and riposted each in turn. He noted allies and enemies, though there were far more of the latter. He was bear a pillar, obviously something that prisoners were chained to for excitement.

<They want exciting, eh? I'll give them exciting!>

------------------------------------
((Vithar's back, and he's better than ever, with an ability that basically lets him treat the battle field as a strategy map. Along with that, he's got different skills, but I'll leave those for another post.))
((VORT: Woah, woah! Edited for reasons such as 1) You can't make him too awesome, I forbid it and 2) Mental magic is nowhere near that strong. Not even close. Sorry. It just isn't. 3) Next time you want to give your character massive improvements, tell me first. He's a warrior, not a magician, as I recall.))

((I see. Well, time to find another approach...))

Edited by Vithar Megilaglar, 28 January 2009 - 10:53 PM.

[mike_]

Rom grabbed one of his attackers by the Man's sword-arm, lifted him high into the air, and hurled him far away into the bustling crowd.

Looking over, he wished that he had his axe. The superior reach - and brutal, sheer power - of the weapon would have been useful in this melee. Halii was doing well; multiple corpses in various stages of dismemberment were scattered around him.

Rom wasn't too shocked by Morion's appearance; his friend was always a reliable sword (or in this case a handful of knives) when truly needed.

Theria, however, was rather unexpected. Though ill-equipped (and -experienced, Rom thought privately) for such a brawl, he didn't doubt she would put up a fight.

The bustling mass of now-entrepreneurs surged again against the four that stood in their path.

[Dauth]

Thaos arrived into town fashionably late, hearing of yet more abusive men in power he had selected another ideal target. New steal from an honest man, and Thoas never did. Crooks, that was the market, and there were always so many of them. Thaos saw dozens and then hundreds of people flocking to the large auditorium in the distance. Taking time to find somewhere suitable for his horse, Thaos collared one of the townsfolk and asked,
"What's going on?"
"There's a reward out Sir, for killing a minotaur in the arena"
"How much?"
"Ten thousand gold Sir!"
With that Thaos set off towards the arena at a gentle jog, if nothing else the rich idiot might have more money to spend.

Instead of rushing into the arena like everyone else, Thaos took a couple of sets of stairs and found himself a vantage point before assessing the situation in the centre. All around him people were cheering for blood, euphoric as the Minotaur was beaten back only to boo and hiss as he decapitated the man. Only then did he realise, he knew the Minotaur, the Elf maiden and the half Furya. <Why do they always need me to save them? Can't they just avoid trouble for once?> he silently lamented.

Sighting his bow he took out a man who was intending on preventing Vithar from breeding, he muttered "Dirty fighting, tut tut tut" under his breath while reloading. When the second shot went off people started to notice Thaos wasn't aiming for the defenders and started to get ready to fight him. He slung the crossbow across his back and ran down the steps between the seats. Spotting some rope he slid down into the arena and set about trying to find some animal pens and letting loose all sorts of havoc.

((He's in the melee and will have no problems staying alive))

[Copaman]

Tom had made his way into the arena with little effort. Although he did not have one of the coins that was required to enter, he had a grip that was a bit scary when it held the doorman by the neck, a foot off the ground. Once inside, he found himself a dark corner to watch from, hoping to catch a glimpse of his old friend Halii at some point. He had arrived after a few fights had been won and lost, and hoped that he was not too late to rescue his friend.

As Halii made his way into the arena to fight a minotaur, Tom was shocked by how thin he had gotten - obviously his captors had been starving him. And when Halii made it to the middle of the arena, Tom was equally as shocked by the voice of the minotaur he was fighting. From what he could hear, it was the same one he had travelled with months ago; it was Rom. No way. He's too... strong to be here. Then again, somehow Halii is involved...

The melee which ensued after Rom issued his defiance was the opportunity Tom needed to get to Halii and help him escape from his shackles. And when Tom happened upon the withered man, he was astonished by what Halii told him.

"My leige... my friend... you have come for me... and yet, we thought you were dead. Everyone thinks you are dead. You must be dead! Hail Carai, true king of Shadowfang Keep!"
"Have you gone mad? I am flesh and blood, no different from when you last saw me!"
"Yes, yes you are flesh. I can see now. I can see why Carai sent me! He sent me to end your life and assure his kingship!"
"What are you saying? Compose yourself!"

And as Tom yelled his last sentence over the din, he felt the stab of a blade into his new armor. Looking down, he found the shortsword protruding from his side and followed it to the hilt - its owner was Halii.

"You need not do this!" Tom called.
"Yes! Carai is the one! The true king! He must be! You must die, and you will die by my hand!"

Tom felt the blade jerk free of his armor, and parried it as it traveled at him again. He drew his second sword and was barely able to get out of the way as Halii's second blade appeared in thin air, halfway to Tom's neck. You've got to be more careful than that - he is a Shadowblade. You forget that, you die.

The two exchanged blow after blow, Halii still proficient, agile, and strong despite his weakened frame. A small circle had formed around the two, would-be looters stopping to watch the exotic blade dance. After what seemed like hours, Tom finally caught Halii off-guard, swiping his feet out from under him. He placed his foot over the fragile-looking windpipe and looked down on his former friend. "Dissent and treason. Their punishments will be death, when I take the throne."

Tom brought his blades back nearly as far as he could, arching his back and then snapping back into the downswing. The twin blades impacted in the same instant, their points burrowing through the face, then skull, then brain, and skull once more to plant firmly in the sand below. Tom wrenched them free by moving their hilts apart, causing Halii's skull to burst open upon the floor of the arena. The cirlce which surrounded him backed off a step, and then burst out cheering at the gory spectacle they had just witnessed.

Panting, Tom took his surroundings in. The clearing he was standing in just fringed upon the ring of people attacking Rom. He browsed the faces of the men silly enough to take the bull on, and found that his eyes fell upon one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. As his mind finished processing what made her so beautiful, he came to realize that he had met her before. In fact, he had travelled with her before. Better yet, he knew her name. Theria.

A few feet away from Rom and Theria, Tom spotted yet another familiar face - Vithar, the half-furya whom had caused the group so much trouble. So, we meet again? Surely this is no coincidence... I am curious what Feruilen's preistess has to say on this matter...

He caught his breath once more, and strode confidently into the melee surrounding Rom. His clearing collapsed in on itself once Tom had entered grabbing distance of the bull. He jumped out of the way of a massive side-swinging hammer fist thrown by Rom, and then rolled to Rom's feet. As the bull made to stomp on him, he looked up and called to him.

"Rom! Rom! I am Tom, bladespinner you met many months ago! Remember? I will help you!"

He was pleased when the hoof sent another three attackers flying instead of him.

((Ok, so I finished off my side story and I'm now back in the saddle again.))
((VORT: I'm surprised Tom managed to do so well with a sword-wound in his side... Still, who am I to tell you what Tom's capable of? ))

Edited by Vortigern, 30 January 2009 - 10:27 PM.

[Vithar-133]

<Perfect...> thought Vithar grimly. He was surrounded by five Men, two wielding swords, one wielding a halberd, another wielding an axe, and one wielding a bola.

Taking out the swordsmen would be easy, even taking out the axeman. But the Man wielding the halberd had the advantage of length, while the one wielding the bola was downright dangerous.

Vithar gave it little thought; a bola was just as dangerous to allies as enemies, but it was still dangerous.

<Time for a dodge-step...>

Vithar made as if to attack the axeman, the bola-wielder stepped forward, threatening Vithar. The axeman didn't move. Or rather, he couldn't. He was on the ground, his guts spilling on the ground. The bola-wielder swung sideways, too low to be ducked beneath, so Vithar threw himself backwards just out of range of the bola. The breeze brushed his covered face, and slammed into one of the swordsmen's chests, rewarded with a sickening crunch. Vithar swung, cutting the chains of the bola, leaving the wielder with a short staff. He soon followed his fellow swordsmen to the ground, only not as bloodily. The other swordsman ran, but a field littered with corpses was a rather dangerous place to trip. Vithar paid no heed. The halberdier was obviously not afraid of battle. A veteran, no doubt. He thrusted his weapon forward, but his aim was poor. Vithar tried to step forward, but the halberdier was obviously not about to let Vithar win easily.The back and forth interplay continued, neither gaining ground. Eventually, both superior training, and stamina, the result of many hours of Warrior-Priest practice, sided with Vithar, the halberdier's weapon was broken upon a lacquered bracer, and the halberdier lanced by Nyrsavai.

Drawing Nyrsavai out of the halberdier's body, Vithar wiped his sword clean. He then realized that he did not get out unscathed. A new cut ran across his upper arm, and a gash had been opened up on his side. He focused his mind on his injuries, putting his hand over them in turn, Healing them. No problem, simple cuts were nothing to Heal.

[mike_]

((OOC: Why does everyone forget Morion? Also, when we get out of here Rom and Morion both need to make a stop at Garik's. New toys abound ^^ One last thing. No time to write right now; y'all just have fun 'til I get a chance ))

[Vortigern]

((Not everyone forgets, Morion, old chap.))

Morion at her side, Rom at her back, Theria slowly made her way towards the cellars from which Rom had emerged to fight the deathknelf. She had picked up a rusty old sword from one of the fallen soldiers bleeding out onto the sand and was defending herself as best she could; Theria would be the first to admit her swordsmanship was not what it might be. A man swung at her with a knobkerry, the heavy club swinging down towards her. Theria leapt aside at the last moment and the hefty wood smashed into the ground. Theria risked a stab at the man, catching him through the left arm. He roared, and raised the knobkerry with his right arm, readying himself for the strike. He swung, and Theria tried to parry, but such was the force behind the wooden mace that the sword was flung from her grasp, spinning off into the no man's land that was the centre of the ring.

Theria dove aside as the club came down again, reaching for her second knife. The first one now lay lodged in the head of an illicit patron of this sordid establishment. A shame to lose that knife, but the circumstances were hardly forgiving.

Theria rolled over and up, grabbing anything she could from the floor as she did so. It turned out to be a sword. No ordinary sword, either, now that she looked at it. It was long and curved, wickedly sharp and inscribed with little symbols. A dim blur of recognition began to congeal in Theria's adrenaline-filled brain, and she held it up stop the knobkerry. The sword stood straight as the club came whooshing toward it, and stayed straight, true and unbroken as the mace split in two, sheared clean where it had passed across the blade.

"Tom's here," she whispered in the second before she seized her advantage and gutted the stunned man. Something had clicked and she had realised whose sword she held.

"Theria!" yelled Morion, shattering her reverie. "Get over here!" Theria obeyed without thinking, her legs instinctively carrying her towards the downward exit, though it delved deeper into the gloom of the cavernous reservoir than she would have liked to even consider, let alone explore with killers on her trail. Theria flung herself bodily through the archway, Morion close behind her, long coat whipping out behind him as he moved. Rom, now sheltering the two of them behind his mighty bulk, roared at the top of his lungs, bellowing out a challenge to any and all in the arena; any and all still standing, that was.

Hidden now behind the impenetrable solidity of Romulus Hauntari, Theria began to relax, the battle-fever fading from her mind, replaced by steady breathing and a soft aura of calm. Morion too took a deep breath.

"Well," he said, getting to his feet. "Let's help the old bull." Morion strode forward to Rom's obliging side as the Minotaur moved a half-step over to accomodate him. Rom roared again. The 'challengers' held back. A third roar sent several scurrying. Rom lowered his head, ready to charge, and the remaining few took flight.

Suddenly empty and silent as the arena had become, Theria became painfully aware of her own breathing. Though steady, it was deep and rasping, loud and echoing in the cave she found herself in. She came back out into the light, and there, as she'd expected, was Tom. He was not alone, though. By his side stood Vithar, the half-Furya she had so suspected, and a little way across the crimson sand stood Thaos Farndale, the thief and master impersonator. It was Vithar, though, who caught Theria's immediate attention; held drawn in his taloned hand was a glowing golden sword. As soon as he noticed Theria looking he sheathed the blade. She walked forward, slowly and carefully, slightly unsteady on her feet but still strong, straight up to Tom. She considered him for a moment before her face melted into a wide, joyful smile and she flung her arms around his neck. Tom began to laugh, and Theria could not help but do the same.

Theria righted herself eventually, pushing her way out of Tom's powerful embrace and over towards Vithar.

"I am sorry I doubted you, Vithar," she said. "Thank you." She then turned to face Thaos, and her face broke into a smile at the sight of the witty young human. "It's good to see you again, Thaos," was what she settled on. Doubtless she could have come up with something more meaningful given a little time, but her evening was not progressing as expected. It was more than enough to throw one off one's game.

With that she turned away, moving back over to where Rom and Morion stood still, side by side, the bull and the human, the great and the small. Rom bowed his head, lowering himself down to one knee, as Theria approached. Though he was no longer indebted and bound to Theria by his oath, Rom showed the deference and respect earned by a true friend and companion.

"Shall we leave, then?" wondered Theria, head still spinning.

"The fighting's spilled out into the streets," put in Tom. "You can just about hear it, even from down here."

"We can't stay here," added Thaos. "Otherwise it'll get shut up and we'll get locked in."

"Then we go," decided Theria. "We'll risk the streets. Tom," she added, as something of an afterthought. "Would you like your sword back?"

((OK, the arena bit is now done, but we've got a full-scale riot on our hands to get us back into the swing of things. Everyone who hasn't already, turn up!))

[Vithar-133]

Vithar remained silent, hoping that he wasn't seen as rude. He put his gauntlets on, hiding his talons, the most noticeable feature of his half-Furya bloodline. He walked to an archway, hoping to make out some sense of what was going on outside the arena. A crossbow bolt tore the air by his ear, a second was stopped in mid air by his mental shield. He only hoped that this insolent rabble had nothing more than stones and arrows. Magic and boulders would be hard for him to stop, even if he wasn't already tired from the melee in the arena.

"Well, it seems progressing anywhere beyond this arena will be a danger. If anyone needs Healing, I will provide that. When we leave, I suggest that anyone with heavy weapons lead from the front; I'll follow behind and protect you from arrows and thrown stones."
---------------
((Vithar can stop arrows and stones easily, as they are small. He can healing cuts and bruises easily as well. Anything more than that will give him trouble.))

Edited by Vithar Megilaglar, 01 February 2009 - 02:32 AM.

[Rafv Nin IV]

Shava woke late, tired from her travel, and yet much earlier than she would have done had she had her way. Cocking her head and squirming out from under the pony, she screwed up her face in concentration. She noticed what had aroused her from a hard-earned beauty sleep: she had indeed tracked several of her companions to this dusty crossroads of the slave trade. The gnomess soon realized the commotion the town experienced--a conflagration of raging emotions occupied the buildings. Pulling herself up, she doused her face with water from her canteen, rubbing the dirt from her flat and scarred face and brushing her hair out of her eyes. She quickly switched her stained travel overcoat for her verdant green robes signifying her position as a lieutenant in the forces of Arap Datrebil, and donned her soft shoes. After all, if she had to overwhelm the mind of some despicable human, she'd better look good doing it.

The pony arose of its own accord--after so much time linked so closely to Shava's mind, the runt understood her most of the time without the need for any communication. After securing her items in its pack, she sent the pony on its way; it would respond to her mental call when she needed it to return. It trotted off in search of tastier grass.

Robes swaying around her figure, newly acquired silver-and-emerald bracelet on her wrist (a "gift" from an unlucky Paladin), fresh shoes buckled tight, and carrying nothing else, Shava walked the rest of the way to the town. The guards had abandoned their posts, doubtless to join the melee that enveloped Temora. She bypassed the gates which had been left open.

Striding through the city, Shava avoided the fights which permeated the larger streets, seeking a lone man in a back alley. She turned off from the main road. Making far more noise than was necessary, she attracted the attention the other occupant of the narrow path. He (also causing a commotion) tried and failed at creeping behind her; not that it would have achieved anything, even if it had been artfully contrived, as Shava had maintained contact with his conciousness since first finding him.

The man drew a dagger, and Shava spun around. "Tell me everything: have you seen a minotaur, deathknelf, and wood elf in a group together?" she inquired.

The man laughed--he obviously did not believe that Shava had the right to ask any questions in her current situation--and reached out with his open hand to grasp her robe. "You'll make a nice little toy slave, gnome!"

His arm never defiled Shava's robes of rank--stunned senseless by her sudden bolt of fear and pain, he fell flat, and his face connected with the grime of the dry street with a dull thud and squish. Shava Kartaan stripped his mind of relevant information and slit his throat with his own knife. As was her custom and trademark insult (she had developed the habit to humiliate Paladins who had not fought well), she cut the genitals off the man and stuffed them in his mouth. Dropping the knife on the ground and wiping her hands on the man's clothes, she set out in search of her companions.

[Copaman]

Taking his sword back, Tom thanked Theria. "I didn't even know I had dropped it... thank you. Now, shall we?"

Tom stepped out into the filty streets of the slave town and looked about. "Seems we've got a bit of a party to take care of," he remarked upon seeing the riotous crowd gathered to down Rom.

He drew the one sword from its hilt, and strode out confidently, calmly garroting the first man unfortunate to try engaging him in hand-to-hand combat. "Lookie 'ere," came a shout from the crowd, "'e thinks 'es a reggalar swordsman! I says we put 'im back in 'is place!" Tom kept walking out into the sea of people, well aware of the ring forming around him. The citizens all wanted a piece, but none wanted to attack first - so a group of two took the initiative to run at him.

Ducking low, Tom severed their legs at the knees and quickly rebounded upwards to bring his swords down on their torsos. As their blood drained from them at the gaping leg wounds and spurted from their chest and mouth, Tom address the whole of the crowd.

"You have no idea who we are nor what we can do! We have downed empires, this group of ours! Now, I am aware of the prize on the minotaur's head, and I must say, he alone could slaughter the lot of you! If there are any men foolish enough to challenge us, please, step forward, and I promise your death will either be slow and excruciatingly painful, or swift and excruciatingly painful! I myself prefer the first... but either way you will die if you step to us. We came in peace and wish to leave in a similar manner. Now, what have you?"

He laxed his arms down to his side and awaited the responce, ever-ready for the slightest hint of an attack.

[Rafv Nin IV]

Shava felt the minds of her companions drawing closer, and soon stepped out into a main street. A crowd surrounded her friends about a hundred yards down the road. She broke into a run, and reached the back of the mob in time to hear the end of Tom's speech.

The deathknelve addressed his audience, "...in peace and wish to leave in a similar manner. Now, what have you?"

From the rear of the crowd, Shava spoke, voice dripping with cynicism. "It's just a tad late for that, Tom. Seriously, you can't kill forty people and then claim to wish for peaceful passage. But all you morons--" Shava turned her talk to the miscreants, "really ought to get some schoolin'. A class in statistics might help you, since you apparently lack common sense. How many of you have died? Quite a few. How many of them? None. So, if I were you--which I clearly am not, as I possess some rudimentary understanding of my own abilities and the skills of my opponents--I would leave. Now. Good-bye."

Shava strode through the grimy, confused men who had never seen a gnome so self-assertive. Upon reaching the group of warriors, she stepped up to them. "Mind if I join?"

Edited by Ravnin IV, 04 February 2009 - 12:01 AM.

[some_weirdGuy]

((so, i take it the bad guys now all run away?))
A chuckle echoed around the area, and one of the corpses sat up, followed by another, and another
"getting yourselves" "in trouble" "already?" they spoke out one by one
" Zhar is amused" they all said in unison. A black mist then swirled out of their mouths to form a misty puddle on the ground, between the group and the audience, before leaping upwards to form the familiar figure of Zhar the great mage.

Some backed off, scared and shocked, others brandished their weapons bravely, but the fear was still evident in their features
"i do so love making a grand entrance" he said quietly, looking from face to face infront of him.
He then turned to the group
"Of all the rotten luck i happen to come drifting past you lot again... pity" he said this in a measured and very calm sounding voice, said without malice orill feeling, but this air of control was ruined when he burst into disturbing, maniacal laughter. He then turned back to the audience, snapping out of the laughter with a suddenness which made it all the more disturbing
"now, leave us, or i will... kill you. With magic!" he said this with all the grandeur of a circus presenter, and seemingly for good mesure he motioned for the corpses to stand once more, and that they did.

((ok, so the men can run away now, or not, whatever))

[Vortigern]

"Hello again, Shava, Zhar," said Theria, a wide smile blossoming across her features. She had missed them both a great deal while off on her own. "So, what's that now? Me, Tom, Shava, Zhar, Vithar, Rom of course, and I'm fairly sure I saw Thaos in there with a couple of knives."

"Aye, that you did," came Thaos' voice from across the rapidly emptying street. "Good to see you again, Theria."

"Which means we're missing Illyriel, Nowe and dear little Bazric. I wonder when those three will show up again."

"What makes you think they'll be back?" asked Tom.

"The gods spoke to me over breakfast," she explained, a wry grin on her pretty face. "They're coming, trust me. Now let's get out of this cursed town."

"Not yet," rumbled Rom. "Rom needs his axe back." With that he began to lumber off up the street. Theria looked at Tom and shrugged. They began to follow him.