54 replies to this topic

[Copaman]

"We should stay up here for the time being," said Falarin - stating the obvious, perhaps, but wise nonetheless. "Wrede has inns and such here in the upper level as well. They command a bit of a premium - what with being safe from Minotaur and all - but the charge is well worth the safety. It would be worth our time to find one and wait for the town to be safe again before heading off to be political."

After a moment's thought, he realized the air was beginning to turn colder. "It's getting cold out anyway. An inn would be nice."

Morion and Naian nodded in acquiescence, and the group found their way to an inn that was somewhat nicer looking; "The Cock and Bull" said the sign over the door.

Falarin got the group a set of four rooms, one for each member, and then bought himself a pint. Wrede beer was better than no beer, he reassured himself.

[Vortigern]

"So," said Falarin as the four of them sat down in a corner booth, basically hidden away from the rest of the inn. Naian could not help but notice that Morion looked more comfortable here in the shadows, well away from the possibility of observation, than he had at any point in the open. A man used to hiding. "Tom tells me you seek to strengthen your kingdom, and to that end you have visited the major kingdoms of northern Arsencia in pursuit of allies." Naian nodded.

"Tepescu thought that would be the best strategy." Falarin snorted.

"Tepescu is very clever, and very astute, but he has no imagination. Alliances are all very well, but you will be expected to honour them as much as anyone else. Yours is a small nation and requires assistance beyond the external."

"That's what I thought," she agreed. "But Tepescu seemed to think we should be satisfied with promises of support if necessary."

"What if your allies are attacked first? That's what I'm asking here. They will expect you to come to their aid, and as I understand it, Fenrig has only the one warband. If you send your army to help defend Tyburn or the Meres, your home will be defenceless." He sipped his beer, smacking his lips appreciatively. "That's where I come in."

"So what's your speciality?" Morion asked.

"I can help you find what Fenrig really needs."

"What?" demanded Naian. This was what she had set out from her home to achieve, all those long months ago. An artifact, a treasure, a weapon that would make her fledgling kingdom so much safer and stronger.

"It's a little grim," Falarin said, frowning.

"I can deal with grim," she informed him, tone polite but firm.

"Just as well," the deathknelf asserted. "Some way south of here is a town called Amborne, on the border between Stavangr and Trivandor. It has been safe from the minotaur menace for well over a decade now, since the bulls came to understand the force that watched over the town."

"Which is what, exactly?" enquired Morion, seemingly just as eager to be done with the prefacing as Naian was. Vam'brac barely seemed to be listening, focused instead on the tankard of ale in his hand, almost comically large in his spindly hands. Falarin rolled his eyes.

"No sense of the dramatic, you people," he commented. "The town is protected by the spirit of Shivvalan Ralsere. He was a mage, lived well over a thousand years ago in Mistaine, back when it was just a fishing village. He's the real reason it grew to be such a major port. The legend goes that his last spell was to put all his power into one place, one item that could be used to defend the town from whatever threats it might face."

"Mistaine's the best part of a thousand miles from here," Morion pointed out.

"If you'd let me finish?" Falarin rolled his eyes again; the motion seemed to be a favourite of his. "Some intricacy of the spell meant that the item in question was, in fact, Ralsere's severed head. Which is now a skull, naturally. It didn't stay in Mistaine long, though. The history of the skull is somewhat incomplete, but about three hundred years ago it turned up in Sharlac, in Trivandor. Scholarly conjecture has it in Bylazora up until then, in northern Mirmida."

"The ruined city?" Morion asked, his curiosity most definitely piqued now.

"The one and only ruined city of Bylazora, yes. The city only fell after the skull was removed, or so the theory goes. Anyway, it disappeared again and then reappeared in Amborne some fifteen years ago, as far as I can tell. It's a little difficult to be exact, seeing as I can only project based on the effects."

"What are its effects?" Naian wondered. "You haven't really mentioned that yet."

"As I said, Ralsere created it to keep his town safe. Anyone seeking to do harm to the people around the skull will find themselves blasted by Feruilen only knows what magic."

"Do you know how powerful it is?"

"Powerful enough to scare off several clans of minotaur, and as we all know they're largely impervious to the small stuff." Falarin took a hefty swig of his ale. "You know, this Wrede beer isn't that bad." They sat in silence for a few minutes as Naian and Morion digested the information with which Falarin had supplied them, and Vam'brac poked suspiciously at a knot in the wooden table and tried to eat the stuffing of the cushioned seats in their booth, unsuccessfully.

"We should head south as soon as possible," Naian eventually concluded. "The sooner we can get this done, the better."

"I agree," said Morion. "Only one problem that I can see. How are we going to get this immeasurably valuable artifact away from its protectors?"




((Whee! It's quest o'clock, chaps! Copa, I hope you don't mind my hijacking of Falarin, I tried to do what you'd want with him, but I needed him to know all this stuff. Sorry if that doesn't quite tally with your estimation of him. I don't know why, but in my head I seem to have cast him in a kind of Indiana Jones-deathknelf role. Anyway, let's go find us a skull and think of some way to smuggle it away from a bunch of folks. Also, Amborne is about a week's slow ride from Wrede. I'm currently in the process of rejigging the map to show the bits and pieces I'm adding in along the way.))

[some_weirdGuy]

((I don't know weather i should raise this question as part of the story or as OOC, so i guess i'll ask it in character.))

Vam'brac looked up, fully paying attention for the first time
"so wait, you said this sword protects whichever village has it?"
"uh, skull, and yes"
"skull? that doesn't sound like it would make for a very good weapon..." Vam'brac shook his head, a confused expression on his face
"Never mind. Back to what i was saying; this skull protects whichever village has it, but you also said that when the village lost the skull it was quickly destroyed. Are you sure this thing isn't cursed?" everyone was looking at Vam'brac now, Falarin with one eyebrow raised

"Forgetting the ... ...Gra'nin" said Vam'brac, grasping for the Arsencian word but only managing to find the Vyre version
"...the, um, uh... .... 'moral problem'?" Vam'brac looked upward thoughtfully, nodding to himself a little before seeming to settle on the translation.
"Yes, so ignoring the moral problem of stealing the only thing protecting that village you're talking about from minotaur attack, there's also the problem of what if the skull is cursed and your village looses it at some point? It will probably be doomed to a fate just as final as that other one who lost the skull... in fact, by taking the skull from where it currently lies, won't you be bringing that same doom down on the current owners?" Vam'brac settled back down, looking curiously yet timidly from face to face, as if trying to read what everyone thought of what he said.

"...Despite your friends cushion eating tendencies, he has come up with an interesting theory" answered Falarin, directing his comment to Naian and Morion

Edited by Vortigern, 19 January 2011 - 06:11 PM.

[Vortigern]

“It’s an interesting question,” Falarin mused, stroking his chin as he pondered it. “Honestly, I would think the skull probably is cursed in some way, but as long as you’re careful with it, you should be fine.”

“I’m sure that’s just what the people of Bylazora said, too,” Naian replied.

“Probably. But unless you have a better idea, I think it’s worth pursuing.”

“What about the people of Amborne?” Morion wondered. “Vam’brac’s right, without the skull they’ll be just as badly off as the rest of Stavangr.”

“It’ll take the minotaur a while to figure out that the skull’s gone. Maybe in that time the Amborne folks can figure something else out. Not really my concern, one way or another.” Falarin took another large swig of beer.

“He’s right,” said Naian suddenly. “We don’t have any better ideas, and honestly I would sleep better knowing there was something protecting my people, even if it is cursed.” Morion looked at her, surprised.

“I thought you were concerned about the human factor?”

“I’m thinking about my humans here,” she told him. “I care about people, mine most of all. And this is a way for me to protect them.” Morion shrugged.

“Amborne it is.”

* * * * * * * * *

The town of Amborne lay nestled in the depths of a valley, the undulating plains of southern Stavangr provided a picturesque home for the walled fortress town. Unlike the other towns in the northern realm, Amborne’s gates stood open and no small amount of building had taken place outside the walls now that the fear of the raiding minotaur had gone. Now that spring was turning into summer, the fields all around the town were growing well, the crops turning from green to gold. It seemed strangely peaceful, given the morbid nature of the token that had granted them such security.

“This is what this country should be like,” Naian commented to Morion as they rode into town along the main road; cobbled, unlike any other road upon which they had travelled in Stavangr. “What it would be like if not for the minotaur.”

“It wouldn’t be like this further north whatever the minotaur did,” he informed her. “The land up there isn’t given to fertility like it is in these parts.”

“Still…” There was more than a hint of wistfulness in Naian’s tone. You’d like nothing better than to see peace all across the world, Morion was tempted to finish for her. For all that she was a consummate warrior, Naian had a gentle nature at heart and Morion knew it would take an awful lot to make her lose that.

Falarin and Vam’brac were attracting the same number of glances and outright stares as they had in Wrede and all along the road on the way here. The deathknelf ignored everyone and everything, but Vam’brac stared back, just as interested. Naian pulled her pony up, waiting for Falarin to come alongside her.

“What’s the plan now that we’re here?” she enquired.

“Find somewhere nice to stay, then have a look around for the sort of place you’d hide a magic skull,” replied the deathknelf blithely. “There’s not really much else we can do, is there?”

“Don’t you know where it is?” she asked, slightly incredulous. “I thought you knew exactly what was going on this whole time.”

“Well that was silly of you,” he said. “Everything I know, I’ve already told you. I’m playing this one by ear as well.”

“So what sort of place would you hide a magic skull?”

“Somewhere crypty, probably. Or maybe buried under my hearth. Or maybe I’d put it inside a statue in the middle of town. There’s no way to know until we look around.”

“I could make some discreet enquiries if you like,” Morion chipped in, pulling his pony back to join the conversation.

“How discreet do you think it’ll be, you asking questions about a magic skull?”

“I can be subtle,” said Morion, sounding slightly hurt. “I bet I can find where the skull is by asking faster than you can by wandering around looking and hoping.”

“I’ll take that bet,” Falarin announced, spitting on his palm. He and Morion shook on it; Naian shook her head despairingly.

“Men.”



((OK guys, we're back in action here too. SWG, Vam'brac is welcome to do whatever he wants to, helpful or otherwise. Mike and Copaman, I think you can see where this is looking to lead. Amborne is much like Wrede, if you recall, except with the differences established by a lack of minotaur breaking all their stuff on a regular basis.))

[some_weirdGuy]

Despite all the travel Vam'brac found his journey to be someone enjoyable. He had rarely gone out adventuring, and although he had learned the ways of the world in his limited travels, he still found new wonder in these foreign lands.

The others had gone off searching for the skull, but Vam'brac, although wanting to be helpful, found himself only halfheartedly searching. Although he felt little attachment to the village he did feel sorry for them if he was right. Nothing good ever came from curses. Though Vyre had little understanding before the awakening, their rudimentary culture did have superstitions and beliefs in curses and bad omens.
Funnily enough it was only bad ones, they didn't believe in any 'good' omens or blessings. Those were considered childish nonsense.

Since the awakening lots of new ideas had come to shape Vam'bracs beliefs. He now believed in luck, for instance, but his faith in bad omens and curses still held strong. He sincerely hoped the skull wasn't cursed, not because he was concerned by the village's fate, nor by the the fact skulls were creepy (something Vam'brac quite honestly didn't understand, people weren't bothered by the bones in a meal, why are they bothered by bones of their own kind?), but because the group would probably get this skull, one way or another, and when they did they'd have to cart it back to Naian's town, and just being around a curse for any period of time was bound to rub off in the form of bad luck.

[Vortigern]

Naian had sided with Vam'brac as far as the bet was concerned; whichever one of Falarin and Morion found the skull first would have to do it without her help. At first she had half-heartedly gone off asking questions with Morion, but as he had been doing all the talking she had felt somewhat surplus to requirements and had returned to Vam'brac for a little restful chatter.

The inn they were staying in, really just a few rooms above a tavern, was remarkably comfortable for what it was. Naian found Vam'brac in one of their rooms, staying out of sight.

"I don't like the way these people look at me," he told her.

"Everybody looks at you a little strangely," she replied. "I don't imagine they see many Vyre down in these parts."

"It's more than that," Vam'brac assured her. For some reason Naian found herself believing him. Maybe it was because she too had noticed the slight air of hostility about everyone in this town exuded.

"Why don't we go downstairs and get some food?" she enquired. Grudgingly Vam'brac agreed, but he was still reluctant to leave the relative safety of his room. The two of them walked together down the stairwell and out into the taproom, taking a seat beneath the window.

"Where are your friends?" asked the tavern-girl without preamble.

"Out somewhere," replied Naian warily. "We would like some food, if you have any." The girl nodded and disappeared through a door at the back. "You're right, Vam'brac," Naian added. "They really don't like us here. I wish Morion and Falarin would hurry up."

[Copaman]

Falarin and Morion had separated from each other; there was a lot of ground to cover and they wanted to get in and out as fast as they could.

The elf had managed to find his way into a chapel of some kind - he was not familiar with the gods, but it certainly seemed a religious structure. After looking around for a bit, he spotted a doorway that most likely led down a stairwell. That's got to be my best bet here. I've got to figure out how to get down there.

One of the priests headed through the door, thinking Falarin was not watching. Sure enough, a spiral staircase led downwards from the main room.

The priests were becoming suspicious: several times they came over to make sure Falarin was okay. "I am just paying my respects," he replied. They were growing more suspicious.

He ducked away from a bench for a moment, walked over towards the doorway, and looked out the window. He spun around quickly to be sure that he wasn't being watched at present, and set to work. Very quickly he procured a set of wires and began to pick the lock holding the door shut. It opened itself to him with a satisfying click, and he slipped inside.

Falarin followed the stairwell down as far as it went, and found himself in the catacombs. Why priests would randomly come down to the catacombs is a mystery to me... a bit suspicious even... He began sneaking around, being careful not to make noise as he walked. The catacombs were dark and damp; he blended in well, unlike the priests in their white regalia.

The layout was more or less that of a hallway, with small side rooms every so often. Falarin followed the main path, looking for some kind of clue as to where the skull might be. The floors were dusty, save where people had walked. As he walked along the hall he noticed a slight lack of dust in one particular area - someone, or several someones, had walked along the path and then in to the wall. Not into the wall, he thought, but through it.

He touched his hand to the wall area, and found that it was actually solid and not just some kind of illusion. For a while he stood there, searching for some kind of hinge or handle in order to get through. The wall didn't even have a novelty candle holder lever to try. A while longer he waited, and finally he heard gears beginning to grind together.

Falarin stood on one side of the wall-door-panel-area and readied himself. The panel began to slide back, and then in to the walls around it. A priest emerged, turned to go back upstairs, and then walked away. Falarin waited a bit longer, and then launched himself towards the opposite wall when the gears began griding again. He jumped to the far wall, and then propelled himself back towards the panel off of the far wall. With a twisting dive, he got through the gap ad the panel clanked shut behind him.

"Impressive," came a voice behind him. "But I am afraid you'll have to leave."

Falarin turned around slowly, cautious not to make sudden moves until he could evaluate the enemy. He was greeted by a man of medium build, garbed in white robes and carrying a staff. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Who I am matters not. You must leave."

Falarin glanced around a bit, hoping to see what he had come looking for. "Any ideas where I could find a magical skull, Mister Strange Robed Guy?"

"And now you are asking questions. We don't like that here. Please, leave before I force you to leave."

"Honestly I don't think you could force me. Tell me where the skull is and I'll leave."

"I guard the skull."

"Then I must take it from you."

Edited by Copaman, 09 February 2011 - 09:54 PM.

[some_weirdGuy]

Vam'brac munched at his meal, while Naian poked at hers halfheartedly. She took a mouthful, and then spoke again to Vam'brac
"So..." she started, trailing off. She appeared to be groping for conversation, something to keep her mind of the discrete but noticeable looks the two were getting from others in the tavern
"I wonder if the others have made an real progress yet" said Vam'brac, stepping smoothly into to head of the awkward pause that was building, this prompt seemed to be what Naian wanted
"Well, Morion seemed to be doing quite well. To be honest thats why i came back here, i wasn't really being much help..."
"Having second thoughts?" queried Vam'brac. He found himself hoping that she did, that way they could put this place and its curses behind them. While he may have liked the lack of minotaur and by extension lack of crushing blows sending him through walls, he still found himself feeling more uneasy here than back at the last village. Physical danger was never quite as worrying to a Vyre as the more intangible sense of danger one felt from time to time.

((i'm not sure weather your last post meant Naian was having some second thoughts about the skull or not, so i guess i'll leave you to answer the question Vort))

[Vortigern]

Morion came shambling back into the inn as the sun fell away beyond the horizon, slumping down in the little booth next to Naian.

"You look as though your day has been less than productive," Naian commented idly, and with no small amusement.

"This town is full of the least forthcoming people in the whole of Arsencia," he muttered in reply. "The sooner we can get out of here the better. The whole place gives me the creeps."

"They're all scared," said Vam'brac suddenly. "They don't know what will happen if they lose the skull, or what the minotaur will do to them. That's why they don't like strangers."

"That's very perceptive," Morion agreed. "I came to much the same conclusion myself. Everybody clams up whenever I point out that there ought to be minotaur around here." For a few seconds he tried to gesture the tavern-girl to bring him a mug of ale, but she steadfastly ignored him. "Let's hope Falarin's had a better day," he said, sighing heavily as he got back to his weary feet in quest for something to quench the day's thirst.


((Copa, feel free to carry on. Smack that bitch up.))

[Copaman]

"So you really think you'll be able to take Ralsere's skull from its current guardian? We've had the skull for decades now and fended off countless attempts to steal it. What makes you so special?" demanded the priest-mage.

"Most likely, your attackers were human. Clearly, I am not."

"You aren't even armed. Human or not, you stand no chance."

"You're arrogant, and that will be your downfall."

"I'm schooled in several different forms of magic, and you have no weapon. You will meet your end here, striper."

Falarin's eyes narrowed. "Show me what you can do then, oh harbinger of my death."

The priest widened his stance a bit and began to focus his mind, readying a spell at Falarin. Before he could finish, the deathknelf was right up next to him, arm around the priest's neck in a stranglehold. "Chant your spells when you can't breathe, wise one. We're in a tight room and I've got the advantage of speed."

The man in white coughed, sputtered something about catch me, and then seemed to melt from Falarin's grasp. He reappeared at the other end of the room, and quickly shouted a spell in the elf's direction. Falarin found himself unable to move, rooted in place by some nasty force. The man's hands began to glow red, steadily growing flames in preparation to incinerate his assailant.

What did they tell me to do here... can't move my legs... still haven't shown him the sword... can't move, about to die... Oh yeah! the counterspell!

The mage began to laugh as the flames took the shape of twin balls, ready to hurl at Falarin. "I told you. You're unarmed and I'm experienced. Now you can die. Enjoy burning." The balls of flame launched from his hands, rapidly closing the gap between the two - Falarin focused his mind, slowing his sense of time down. In streaks of shadowy purple, he brought his sword to bear in front of him, just for a moment. He shouted a quick amalgam of magic words, and bounced the first fireball off his sword and into the ceiling. The second ball deflected downwards, scorching the stones and devouring what magic was there to root Falarin. He leaped forward, once again closing the gap between he and his enemy.

"Impressive," remarked the mage. "I've never seen anyone deflect magic with their fists. You half breeds must be training hard. Why'd your bastard king send you after the skull, anyway?" He apparently enjoyed casual conversation while turning away fisted blows.

"He hasn't," retorted Falarin. "I'm acting on my own, for a country other than my own. A mercenary, if you will."

If I don't finish this soon, he's going to kill me some how. I'm not sure how yet, but he will.

The elf saw his opponent's eyes start to glow - whatever he was readying, it wouldn't be nice. Falarin could feel tendrils starting to burrow into his brain, seeking out the control centers, trying to shut him down from the inside out. "You're wasting your time," he said as he tried to battle the tendrils out of his head, "because I've been toying with you. I've had enough fun now."

"You're too late," said the priest, "considering you have no weapon. Still."

Falarin lunged in, drawing the priest's attention and forcing a block with the stave. A streak of purple came, a blade's length from Falarin's hands. The stave fell in pieces to the floor, and the hot blood of the priest-mage spurted forth from his chest as his entrails fell to the floor. He coughed slightly, and whispered to Falarin "My spell still works. You haven't killed me fast enough, you sorcerous bastard."

"Then I shall grant your wish."

The top half of the priest's skull wobbled on the floor a moment later.

His mind cleared of the fog, Falarin spotted a small indentation in the wall. He snapped a necklace off the body, and found it fit nicely into the slot. A panel slid back, and the skull was his. Upon removing it from its pedestal, a second door-panel slid back to reveal a staircase leading upwards to the streets outside - presumably for when the skull might have to be moved from place to place in the city. But Falarin's attention was drawn away from his escape as he noticed something cut into the back of the niche: a little circular hole in the stone, filled by a rolled up sheet of vellum. Falarin drew it out and cast his gaze over it.

"Well now," he murmured. "Isn't that interesting?"

He ran up the staircase, the heavy stone door sliding shut behind him just as he heard the door to his earlier entrance grinding open.

==

He arrived at the inn not long after. He beckoned Naian and co. to one of their rooms, where he revealed the skull. "It wasn't easy," he said hurriedly, "and if we want to make it out of this place alive we need to go now. They came in to the room just as I made my escape. Within twenty minutes all gates to the town will be closed and the population searched for this beautiful specimen. I can only assume we'll be put to death when they find us in possession. Gather up your things."

[Vortigern]

Naian vaulted easily up to her saddle, and a moment later Vam'brac scrambled up behind her. He still hadn't got the hang of horses, but, light as they both were, it made little difference to the muscular, thoroughbred mare that bore them. Naian kicked the horse into a gallop as soon as they were out of the stable and they pelted out of the town as fast as the horse's legs would carry them. A couple of times Naian risked a glance behind to make sure Morion and Falarin were keeping pace; they showed no signs of slacking off.

Within moments they found themselves leaving Amborne far behind. It seemed news of their daring heist had not yet reached the ordinary folk. Naian allowed her horse to slow to a canter, then to a trot and finally to a gentle walk as it got its breath back. Morion and Falarin pulled alongside her, and Falarin triumphantly withdrew a skull from his satchel.

"Guess who found the skull first?" he gloated at Morion.

"If that had been any other town, I would have found it," Morion grumbled.

"Still, I won the bet."

"What were you two betting on, anyway?" Naian asked. They both paused, confusion furrowing their brows.

"Uh..." Morion had no answer.

"Shit," said Falarin. "We forgot to name a stake."

"I'll buy you a drink next time we're in a remotely hospitable town," suggested Morion, and harmony was restored. They carried on down the road in silence for a while, until Vam'brac told them that Amborne was wholly out of sight.

"The sun will be setting soon," Naian noted. "We should find somewhere to make camp, well away from the road. We don't want to run into any search parties." Soon they stumbled upon a small copse, covering probably no more than a few acres, but more than enough to safely hide them all until morning. The little band of warriors made themselves a comfortable little camp, stretching a canvas between four trees to shelter them from rain and wind and building a fire near enough the edge that the smoke would not catch underneath the sheet; they all had a great deal of experience camping. It was a warm night in the middle of spring, so they had no need of anything more substantial to protect them from the travails of the night. When they were settled in and the fire flickering merrily away, Falarin gathered them around the glow of the flames and withdrew something else from his satchel.

"I found this in the crypt along with the skull," he told them. "It's ancient, hundreds of years old at least, probably closer to thousands."

"What is it?" Naian asked.

"It's a map."

"Of where?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but it looks rather reminiscent of Bylazora." Naian recognised the name. "Yes, that's one of the last places before here that the skull was known to be, which makes me think that that's where the people of Amborne got the skull from after all. They got the map, followed it and found the skull."

"If the skull was marked on a map, why hadn't anybody else claimed it sooner?" Morion wondered.

"This is a personal map," Falarin explained. "Somebody made this and added to it according to their experience. And most interestingly, it has a whole other layer of streets that I don't recognise."

"Why is that interesting?" Vam'brac asked.

"Because it suggests that there is a secret city within Bylazora, which is just brilliant," Falarin exclaimed, the adventurer's gleam bright in his eyes. "We have to go there! We could be the first people in a hundred years to see this! Think of the academic implications alone!"

"I'm not particularly concerned about academic implications, Falarin," declared Naian. "Now that we have the skull, I'd rather like to take it home and have Fenrig protected."

"Then think of the other implications," Falarin suggested. "If the Amborne folks found the skull by this map, think what other treasures are artifacts are hidden away under the greatest city the world has ever known?" Morion arched an eyebrow.

"Greatest city? Really?"

"Alright, a really pretty good city. Besides, we're heading in the right direction already. You'd have to double back on yourself to be heading anywhere close to Fenrig, and on top of that, it'll probably be quicker to ride to Bylazora and sail to Fenrig than it would be to walk the whole way. What have you got lose?" Naian considered her options for a moment, or at least pretended to. Really she had already made her mind up long since.

"Fine," she said at length. "We'll head south to Bylazora and see what we can find."

"Excellent," enthused Falarin. "Now, let's see about some dinner."

* * * * * * * *

Vam'brac couldn't sleep. Of course, he only slept maybe a quarter as much as the rest of them anyway, and right now he was full of energy, having not done anything all day. He decided to go for a walk and see what excitement there was to be found in this little woodland.

For a while he poked aimlessly at rabbit holes and badger setts, and at one point chased after a fox, but it proved too fast for him. As he walked under the moonlight, the stillness was broken by a sharp crack, as of a heavy foot stepping on a dry branch. Vam'brac went to investigate. He pushed aside a curtain of low-hanging branches, and the next thing he knew he was on his back, his spine snapped in two. He screeched in agony, the high, piercing sound part as an indicator of his pain, but more as a warning to his friends. As he lay on the grass he saw his assailant, but what it was that he saw he had no idea. A heavy cloth hood shrouded an empty face, devoid of features. All that marked it were two slits where a nose should be and two slight indents where eyes might once have been. Lower down he saw dark, heavy robes, swathed around a shapeless figure, then it moved away. Slowly, achingly, Vam'brac felt his vertebrae begin to knit back together.



((Woo! A midnight battle against a faceless enemy who can move quickly and quietly enough to sneak up on a Vyre and are strong enough to snap him in two. Just when you thought we were running out of bad guys.))

[some_weirdGuy]

Slowly the pieces moved back into place, realigning as the miraculous healing of his body took place. Vam'brac withered a little on the ground until he could finally get back up, and as he sat waiting he wondered,
"Why is it always me?", he said this out loud in a gruff whisper, finally rolling to his front to push himself up to a standing position.
If I were not a Vyre, if I was Elf instead, would I be long dead by now? Or by not being a Vyre would this kind of stuff just not be happening to me? these were his thoughts as he started bending and twisting a little, just to make sure everything had healed back in place properly (he had healed fine every time so far, but one did hear stories...).

His mind darted back to his current situation as he remembered the thing that attacked him. He looked around quickly, on edge now, but it appeared to have moved on.
He frowned, letting out a huff as he sprang forward towards the camp. The others surely heard his cry, and hopefully would be ready, but this... whatever it is, was highly dangerous. Vam'brac was pretty sure that the others wouldn't be quite so quick to rise had it been one of them out here instead of himself.

"Damn curses" he panted, adding in a louder voice "They Always cause trouble!"

Edited by some_weirdGuy, 21 February 2011 - 01:00 AM.

[Copaman]

Falarin bolted up from his slumber at the sharp screech. After guiding his hands to his blade, he waited the necessary moment for his eyes to adjust to the low light and then made his way away from where he had been sleeping. Naian was up and about as well, blades at the ready as a precautionary measure. Morion, however, was a bit less graceful, fumbling for his things in the dark as he slowly came out of the haze of deep sleep.

Falarin whispered to Naian, quietly as he could, "for a human, you're pretty good in the dark."

"One is nothing if they cannot fight in the dark. Vulnerabilities abound, and any true warrior should be able to exploit their enemy's and protect their own in the same instance."


"A good point. What do you think made the sound?"

"I am not sure, but Vam'Brac is missing."

Falarin whirled around, his superhuman ears catching the sound of a snapped twig. "Vam, is that you?" he called out.

No response came.

A rush of wind, Falarin's eyes widened, his brain reacting just in time. He managed to bring his sword up to block somewhat, the flat of the blade clanging against something just before the impact sent him flying back a safe distance. With a bounce, he came back onto his feet and into a guarding stance.

Whatever that was is bad news. No doubt it's what got Vam, and it's quick as anything. Naian will have huge troubles fighting whatever it is in this light...

He uttered a few choice words, and smiled a slight satisfaction when his sword and his companions' swords began faintly illuminating a fair patch of ground around them. Useful, that. The high elves might be good for something after all..

Another slight rustle, and this time he had the time to dive out of the way. Whatever it was, it was very, very fast, and very mean to match.

"This should be fun," he managed to chuckle. Naian nodded. Morion was still fumbling about, despite the commotion.

[Vortigern]

The shadow of the dark, almost imperceptible shroud flitted past Naian and she lashed out with one sword, but found nothing but air. From the dimmest corner of her peripheral vision, or maybe just her highly-tuned battle senses, she turned just in time to catch a blow from her unseen enemy on the arm instead of in the side of her ribs, where no doubt the force would have been enough to shatter her bones. As it was her arm went numb with the pain and she fumbled her left sword to the ground, unable to keep her fingers tight around the blade. A brief yelp of pain told her that Falarin was not faring much better. What the hell kind of monster is faster than a deathknelf?

Naian held her single sword before her, attempting to ward away what merciless evil faced her, but no such luck. She again caught the briefest glimpse of her enemy behind her before it smashed a hand (hoof? Bone? Solid lump of shadow? Naian had no way to be certain) into the small of her back, sending her tumbling from her feet.

She rolled onto her back, ready to defend herself however she could, and only then did she truly see what she fought. The monster stood, cowled in dark robes and darker shadows, where she had a moment before. Then it moved, fast, inhumanly so, covering the few yards between them in a fraction of a second, moving so fast it became blurred, coming to a sudden stop with its face mere inches from her own, though the two were barely comparable. The monster's face was comprised of dark grey flesh broken only by a wide, almost circular mouth bristling with fangs and two nostrils, just slits in the centre of its head really. The monster had no eyes, but whatever sense it employed instead seemed equally useful. It opened its mouth, revealing several rows of serrated teeth stretching back into its head, and Naian found herself frozen with fear, unable even to lash out. The beast lowered its mouth towards her throat, and just as Naian braced herself for death, something bundled the monster away from her. A series of loud cracks, as of bones breaking, told her that the tussle had rolled some distance to her left, where she saw Vam'brac wrestling with the eyeless creature. He screeched as the monster gained the upper hand, tearing his head back and around, twisting it almost away from his body. Vam'brac's body fell to the ground, and Naian seized her chance. She ran forward, grabbing her sword from the ground as she moved, and swung it full force at the monster as it tried to realign itself after fighting the little vyre. Her sword connected with the monster's neck, and cut a good way through its neck. The creature fell to the ground, letting out a quiet hiss, as if it were nothing more than a little air escaping from a sealed pocket. Naian did not hesitate to strike again, completely severing the monster's head and kicking it away.

She turned around and her stomach turned to stone, her breath to ice as she saw what still remained. Morion and Falarin stood back to back, barely fending off three more of the things.

"Naian?" came a whimpering little voice from the ground. "Could you twist my head back around, please?"



((Mortal peril, but still time to end on a little humourous aside. ))

[some_weirdGuy]

Vam'brac found himself wishing that he had not joined this group.
Pain was not enjoyable, and in the present company it's occurrence was far to frequent for his liking.
He felt the numbing, and his vision fading away.
"quickly please" he croaked, "i don't want to be stuck like this..."
Naian hesitantly crouched down, reaching out with with one hand, before retracting it a little and grasping Vam'brac's head with both hands.
"don't be shy" he said in a pained voice, as she started twisting it back around.

Naian's insides squirmed as she twisted, and to her it seemed his head was turning far to easily. After a certain point it seemed to take over on its own, and she hastily let go.
Vam'brac had blanked out now. This was no small injury for a vyre to face.

If a vyre's head is severed they will die quickly, and severed doesn't always have to mean removed completely. If the damage to the neck is great enough, it can effectively disconnect the head from the body without breaking the skin. The vyre will die despite the bodies efforts to heal.

In a few moments Vam'brac stood up shakily, Naian was already racing to help the others.
"it still hurts..." Vam'brac croaked to himself, concern in his voice. He rubbed at his neck, sending thanks to any gods he could think of. This had been a lucky day, if the creature's attack had even a little bit more force in it, he would surely be dead.

His instincts had taken over with that leap, but now he felt fear. He decided to scramble for his weapon, still reaching up to touch his neck, as if to reassure himself that his head was still firmly attached.
Using the flail section of his weapon he hoped he be able to keep his distance. Up close and personal was not a good idea with these creatures...