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No More Negotiation; [Chocolate, Silas, Sid/Logan, Luriel][Silver Hounds]
Topic Started: Thu Jan 27, 2011 9:20 pm (835 Views)
Nkiruka
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((OOC: The plotting topic for this Silver Hounds mission can be found here.))

The forward post of the Taras Guard stood within a labyrinth of cloth and clotheslines. Since it had been drizzling on and off all morning, a middle-aged man with a greying mustache was one of the only people outside. Trying to smoke, he had ducked under a makeshift awning tied from the top of the tent. He looked up at the approaching group and gave a huff.

"Is this the Guard posting?" Wright asked, noticing the chainmail he was wearing.

Nkiruka came to a stop just behind and to the left of Wright. The unclean conditions of the refugee camps, especially the sketchy sort-of inn they'd slept in the night before, had given the woman a persistent, hacking cough. Whenever any of the other Hounds would mention it, she would rudely dismiss them.

The smoking man paused, taking another drag or two, before disappearing into the tent. He returned a few seconds later, followed by another man who was much taller and younger than he was. Wright approached him and shook his hand.

"Welcome to the Central Tent City. I'm Ed Beris, pleasure to meet you all," the younger guardsman said, going around and shaking everyone's hands. Nki didn't like how he smiled so much. When he held his hand out to her, she hesitated for an uncomfortably long time before shaking it. He continued: "Thanks for arriving so quickly. I got all my men out of Harlan's territory this morning, so you should be free to do what you need." He pointed into the distance at a jagged anomaly. It pushed out from the silhouette of the tent city, slightly taller than everything around it. "That's where the hostages are. It's a permanent building. You'll find a lot of attempts at rebuilding Taras around that neighborhood; people riveting scraps, building huts and such, trying to recreate home. Harlan just wanted luxury."

Wright nodded. "Thank you. We'll report back here once we've taken care of this." Beris nodded at them all, still smiling, before returning to the tent. The Hound leader turned his whole body to the rest of his squad, giving a tired smile and adjusting his eyepatch. "Off we go, then."

They plodded through the lightly muddied paths between tents. The rainfall let up slightly. Nkiruka looked up, squinting. The sky was a dull, even whitish-grey, with blacker storm clouds rolling in from the far distance. She wasn't looking forward to the trip home. The mercenary unleashed another fit of coughs into her fist.

"You should've opted out, Nkiruka," Wright noted. "These are just thugs. We could take care of them fine without you."

Instead of actually saying anything, she just shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket, looking disgruntled.

"Remember that this isn't going to be about stealth, necessarily," Wright addressed the rest of the group. "It's just a delicate situation. Just stick together and attack anyone that's armed. I'll give more specific instructions when we have to deal with Harlan and the hostages. Does anyone have any questions?"

((OOC: Sorry, it's hard to give people material to post about in situations like this. >.< However, I will definitely jump into the action for my next post.))
Edited by Nkiruka, Sun Jan 30, 2011 9:34 pm.
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Eliel
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Luriel moseyed his way through the clotheslines, not looking entirely out of place. He wore the guise of a human refugee, his rough leather pants worn at the knees and cuffs, white shirt stained with dirt. He wore no shoes on his feet, the watery mud squelching between his toes with every step. Passing puddles, the edges of the murky pools seemed to creep toward him, receding as he passed. Rough tan skin, warm brown eyes, and a head of curled white hair disguised him as harmless enough, the sheath on his belt worn, metal fittings crumbling and leather stained with rust.

The Warden gradually caught up to Nkiruka and Wright, a crooked grin on his face. His mouth remained closed to hide his teeth, which for the sake of hygiene he refused to shift to fit the station of the disguise he wore. Paradoxical as it may seem, he was willing to wear a coating of dust and grime, but gods forsake him if he’d allow his innards to be so despoiled.

The angel arrived shortly before Nkiruka gave a coughing fit, attempting to stifle it. Cocking an eyebrow, the celestial chose not to mention it. He was a newer member of the already-fresh group, but it didn’t take a lifetime’s experience to tell the woman was a proud one.

Thugs may they be, but thugs with innocent lives under their thumb, and we’ve already lost one. Better to have more than we need than not enough. Besides, these are honorable men and deserve our respect. Wouldn’t want to insult them with anything short of our best, would we?” Luriel beamed at the man. His guise was humble enough, but his mind was readily irritating as ever. Never before had it bothered him, however, and it wouldn’t start now. Few people could force a celestial to change, and oftentimes that number didn’t include the angel himself.

The angel rubbed his fingers together, shivering at the feeling of the dirt grinding against his rough, human flesh. It was so… dry.

The sooner they left the general area, the better. He despised the form, but it was best not to cause a stir. His blade mirrored his emotions. Luriel could feel the sword, of the same name, discontent in its quite under-par sheath, which he’d scrounged up in a marketplace to hide the runes and make of the blade.

((OOC: My apologies for the post, which happens to be as under-par as Luriel's housings D:))
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Silas
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The Silver Hounds. When he had first heard the name and a little of what they stood for he thought it would be a good thing for him. Even now he still believed that. Their goals were not unlike his. The greater good he thought. Though he knew many in the past had used such a phrase to explain away the evil they had committed he didn't think this situation would be like that, or at least he hoped it wouldn't. His brother had once told him that one could never know anything, only suspect. Words that he now lived by.

After he had thought much on this matter and a many other things he had chosen to join them. After that he had sought them out in order to offer his services to the group and with a sigh of relief they had accepted. That had been a number of days ago.

It was soon after that he was contacted about their up and coming mission. A first for him and he wanted nothing more then to prove his worth. So when he was told about the mission and where to meet them he was quick to respond. Upon the back of his gryphon Leon he met up with them at a creaky old inn just as they were about to make off for Taras.

And as the time seemed to go by rather quickly he now found himself on the outskirts of Taras along with the others. During their travel he had stayed atop Leon. Though they both remained on the ground with the rest of the group. And now before him he saw their destination.

Hundreds of tents were before them as people and guards went about their business. How could people live like this he thought as he watched them. It had been raining lightly off and on the past few days and the land showed it. Everything seemed to be damp and much of the dirt had become mud, making it hard for people to remain clean.

As the group approached one of the larger tents Silas noticed the middle-aged man with a grayed mustache before it smoking. He couldn't help but wrinkle up his nose in discomfort. He had always hated that nasty habit and the smell of the smoke made him nauseous. He hoped he would not have to put up with it for long. Lowering himself from Leon he grabbed the rains and stood before his gryphon though slightly to it's left.

Soon after the were greeted warmly by a taller and much younger man who had come from within the tent. When the man introduced himself as Ed Beris and offered his hand to each of them in turn he accepted it and shook his hand with a small smile. at least this one isn't smoking. If the man had noticed the large gryphon in the group he did not show it.

After their meeting they continued on further into what they had called tent city. All the while he noticed that a number of people giving him odd looks as he led Leon along with the group on foot. The only equipment he carried with him, other then a few odds and ends things was his long sword, Isidar Mithrim the "Star Sapphire". Much of the hilt and guard was blue and gold and on the pummel was a bright white star.

Silas listened as the man in charge known as Wright addressed them. And when he asked if any of them had any questions he had thought of only one for the moment. He didn't voice his question quickly though as he was sure that others would have questions as well. When it came to his turn he asked. "Would it be best for Leon to remain here or will there be room for him where we are going?"
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Asti
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The trek had been generally quite nice, other than the inn last night. The blonde suspected that the air had sickened Nkiruka, who was probably used to drier climates than the inside of a moldy inn. Unfortunately, nothing could be done as the trio of branch leaders were decidedly useless at things unrelated to combat. Their little group combined in the morning and marched to the guard outpost. Wright did all the talking, Chocolate had deferred command to him. He had a more serious visage, with the more obvious missing eye than Chocolate's missing arm, which she had hidden beneath a layer of white plate armor. The guardsman's youth shocked her, then again, she wasn't exactly old either. Nor was he precisely helpful, Chocolate had hoped they'd get a guide, but instead it was just their small group in an alien that they called a "refugee camp".

Chocolate followed along dutifully, eyes on ramshackle structures and ramshackle people. Hostage situations were always nasty, and while she disagreed with Wright's methods, she knew better than to contradict her commanding officer. She cast her gaze towards Nkiruka and Wright to avoid looking at the ruinous surroundings. It all reminded her of aspects of her own past, things she didn't wish to confront unless she could be pressing the perpetrator's face into the earth. Silas, one of the recruits, had a question. Chocolate glanced back towards him nodded.

"I'd recommend you leave your gryphon here, Silas. He may spook at the crowds as we head deeper into the camps, and he may get injured in the close combat. If you are sure he'll keep his head on his shoulders, and think he'll be fine in very close combat, then take him along. We could always use an extra sword, or set of claws. I just wouldn't want to see a cutie like him in a dire situation." Chocolate explained. She slowed her gait and scratched the gryphon behind the ears before moving to the head of their little formation.

"Remember, many of the people we encounter have nothing to do with Harlan, so don't go ax crazy if they act a little funny. We are a bunch of heavily armed soldiers wandering into their homes. It would also be a safe bet that soldiers only wander into this section of the camp to put down riots and drag people away, so be doubly safe." Chocolate suggested. Starting a riot would be a miserable situation, not to mention a permanent mark against the guild.
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Logan Pathwalker
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This squalor and filth was precisely the reason that Logan Pathwalker had left behind the gripping of civilization when he had finally retired from adventuring. Making his way through this muddy cesspool, Logan's nose was wrinkled in distaste as he beheld the various stenches and scents of this destroyed civilization's scrabbling attempts to rebuild itself after the kingdom of Taras had been laid to waste by demonic hordes. The chills of the morning drizzles had caused him to completely buckle his forest-green longcoat shut against it, having left his traveling cloak elsewhere for this job. The dragonhide leather was quite warm against the chill as he drew up alongside the group that had been hired for this job.

Though he was not a member of the Silver Hounds, Logan was likewise hired as a freelancer by Captain Ed Beris of the guard when they encountered each other as Logan came to town for supplies. Eager to earn more gold to rebuild and refurbish his hermitage, which had fallen to ruin due to the pouring of refugees out of Taras, Logan quickly accepted the job for almost three times as much as the Hounds were being paid. With his trusted longsword Thrae tucked beneath the tails of his coat, Logan now found himself amongst this group of mercs, who were also eager to get the job done.

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"Remember, many of the people we encounter have nothing to do with Harlan, so don't go ax crazy if they act a little funny. We are a bunch of heavily armed soldiers wandering into their homes. It would also be a safe bet that soldiers only wander into this section of the camp to put down riots and drag people away, so be doubly safe."


The blond woman next to him spoke up when Hound member Wright had asked for inquiries. Looking sideways at her, Logan replied.

"If that be the case," Logan began, "then we're not going to have an easy time of this. Harlan could very well have the people there paid off to aid his men in case something like this goes down. No one asks for sixty thousand coins per head of city guardsmen unless they're assured that all cards are in their hands."
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Nkiruka
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((OOC: Sorry for posting so late! Hopefully I'll be way more prompt in future posts.))

"Besides, they're profiteers," Nkiruka said, turning her dark gold eyes over to the refugee that accompanied them. "They make comfortable lives for themselves by stealing from people who already have nothing. A little cough can't keep me from gutting them like the pigs they are."

While the group continued down the muddy path, Nki's agitation toward the entire situation simmered. She channeled her energy by going through all of her equipment, checking and double-checking it; sliding each knife partway from its sheathe, adjusting the fit of the leather armor under her cloak, and other small preparations. She looked up at Wright, who was talking to Chocolate and Silas.

"He's a beauty, I do admit!" Wright said with a chuckle, patting Leon's flank. "But Chocolate is right. Most people aren't used to seeing gryphons up close -- they'll panic." Nkiruka tossed the great beast a sideways glance, wary; Wright continued speaking. "Is he trained to come to your call? That might be useful in an emergency."

Once that was cleared up, Wright turned his attention to Logan, their non-Hound merc. "Great to have some extra help around here, by the way. Pathwalker, right? Bet you anything that your pay's better as an independent, those damn swindlers." The large man gave another chuckle, lifting his hand to give Logan a friendly clap on the back.

Wright was being strangely upbeat about the whole situation. He wasn't even complaining about how the mud would splash up onto his greaves; the man was always obsessed with keeping his armor polished to a mirrorlike shine, Nki remembered. Maybe he had simply changed after he joined the Silver Hounds. Maybe doing these missions reminded him of when he was younger, serving in the military. Useless conjecture, of course.

Conversations and the sharp clattering of armor had lured some curious refugees out of their tents. The pseudohuman passed a middle-aged elven woman who was standing at the entrance to a patched ten-person home. She was holding a baby. Nkiruka tore her gaze from them and focused it forward for the rest of the walk, visibly gritting her teeth.

"Up ahead," she called to the rest a few minutes later. Their surroundings had given way to a mix of tents and small ramshackle houses. Trash covered the ground, mixing with the mud. Nkiruka pointed to the largest building in the neighborhood: a rectangular structure about the size of a barn. Pieces of scrap sheet-metal had been melted together and formed into a vaguly sloping roof over the whole thing.

Wright lifted his arm, indicating for all of them to stop. He reached back and wrapped his fingers around the long handle of his silver warhammer, pulling it from its ties and hefting it into a battle-ready position. "I see four guys at the front entrance. Chainmail and mace, leather armor and shortswords, two plate with a longsword and broadsword respectively. Oh-- guy on the left is a minotaur or something, be careful. Guards told me there's two entrances." Wright pointed to Chocolate and Silas. "You two follow me and we'll take down the front. I'll keep the minotaur distracted as best as I can." He then nodded at Nkiruka, Logan and Luriel in turn. "You three take out anyone immediately surrounding the building outside, including anyone who's guarding the other entrance. Meet us at the front when you're done."

After a short bout of coughing, Nkiruka nodded. "C'mon."

When Wright could no longer see any of those three, he gave the order to proceed against the front entrance.

Meanwhile, Nkiruka scanned the side-streets around the building as they made a large circle around the gang headquarters; no sign of thugs on the periphery. "They must hate rain," she joked dryly. When the back entrance was visible, the mercenary almost laughed. The metal roof jutted out especially far on this side, creating a strip of ground that was shielded from the rain. While there were two people officially posted as guards at the back entrance, one of them was apparently sleeping and the other was obviously bored. Four more gang members were also out back, huddled under the metal awning to smoke or chat with one another.

"Make this quick," she said in a low voice, pulling her knives out of their sheathes.

((OOC: People attacking the front are up against people who are alert; they won't get a spring attack. There are slightly more people out back, but they're not alert. Feel free to determine your attacks against these NPCs and decide whether or not you killed them; if you do kill one, though, try to limit it so other people can write posts too. It can be assumed that Wright succeeded in pissing off the plate-wearing minotaur so other people can help kill that guy XD))
Edited by Nkiruka, Wed Feb 2, 2011 10:53 pm.
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Eliel
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Luriel nodded to Nki, breaking off from the woman and Logan. “Leave the two at the post.” He gestured to the sleeping man and the bored guard.

The visage of an old man faded away; skin smoothing and turning a white gold color, features lengthening. Luriel covered his face with his mask, produced from the folds of his cloak, drawing up the hood and pulling the sleeves over his hands.

Luriel drew his blade, lifting the hand grasping the hilt to eye-level. The back of his hand pointed toward the sky, he uncurled his index finger, pointing at the guard who remained awake, twenty feet away. The sigil on his hand glowed faintly momentarily as Luriel released the power. His will drowned the man’s own, seizing his allegiance.

The guard made no motion besides shaking his head a little, as if warding off a fly. Turning his gaze in the group’s direction, he looked to the angel for direction. Luriel lifted a finger to his lips. Nodding once, the guard returned to his prior pose, hand resting on the hilt of his broadsword.

Returning to Nki and Logan, he motioned the guard. “Don’t attack him. Our side now. For the time being. What’s the plan?” The angel lifted the blade, running his thumb along a flat side. Pressing it to the tip, he drew a bead of blood. The blood steamed and sank into the metal. The ache in his right arm faded as the sword stopped drawing from him, sated for a moment.
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