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Cairns on the Wine River [FIN]; [ST05][Signups Closed]
Topic Started: Sat Sep 17, 2016 1:22 pm (8,268 Views)
Inferna
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The wolves had called for help, that much was clear. What they did not know was how long it would be before that help arrived. Although it grated her insides, even Inferna knew that the best course was to flee. Korso needed help to get away, and for her companions to escort him away safely, they would need someone to distract the pack and cover their retreat, if only for a few moments.

Inferna dug her heels into Cinder's sides. Her companion responded by bounding forward toward the black wolf, which was smaller than him, though not by much. She wouldn't force the stoat to fight the pack; their regeneration would put her mount at too great a disadvantage.

The animals charged headlong toward one another, spittle flying from their slavering mouths and enormous claws scarring the cobblestones. An instant before they impacted one another, Inferna spurred Cinder to dart to the left, and as the beasts slid past one another, she swung out with her hissing, sparking blade, meaning to slice the wolf open from neck to tail.

After passing the wolf, Cinder immediately whirled around, and Inferna pointed her empty hand to the overcast sky. The clouds above the wolf swirled for an instant and electricity arced. A heartbeat later, with a deafening crack of thunder, two white-hot bolts of lightning struck down from the heavens, aimed for the black and grey lycanthropes.

OOC

Edited by Inferna, Sat Oct 29, 2016 8:29 pm.
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Tian
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The shit hit the proverbial fan. It was kind enough to make sure it spread itself around liberally, too, much to Tian's discontent.

He reacts with almot inhuman quickness, reaching into the dark shadows of his armor and withdrawing a pair of throwing daggers and throwing them, in a single fluid motion. On of them he throws at the bolts that the white werewolf is firing away gleefully, the steel carefully enhanced by his own particular touch to reduce the effects the damned thing will have. The other is aimed at the eye, the left eye to be specific, of the same white werewolf. He doesn't stick around, however, to see the results, instead taking and drawing the heavy bladed long knives he preferred for close in fighting.

He made a supernatural dash for Bearkiller, then. Coming up beside her, he flashed her what he considered to be his most winning smile. Good evening, pretty lady. What say we change that name from Bearkiller to Dogslayer, eh? I've got your back, and you've got silver. Win-win. He eyed the wolves as they attacked, and grimaced. So cut them up and I can carve them up some more. Trust me, and I'll help you stay alive!

He advanced if she did, doing exactly what he said - covering her back and at least deflecting or slowing any assault on her. And if that beautiful silver was in evidence...why, then he'd be dropping thrown knives into eyes and faces, and trying to maim or wound anything that got near to Beakiller!

OOC
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Alexandra
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The fight started. Ithuen and Czajka rushed in, pursued by only a handful of the Pariahs. The werewolves were huge, except for the hybrid at the back with a powerful arcane weapon. Alex raised a hand, and unnaturally fast her hands formed a complex series of glyphs, while a practiced chant poured out of her mouth. With a quick indication to the hybrid at the back, heat swirled and then attempted to take hold.

Her hand snapped backwards and raised skyward, sending a dart of flames into the sky, where it hovered above her.

OOC
Edited by Alexandra, Sat Oct 29, 2016 3:57 pm.
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Lorica
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The black wolf bowled though their numbers, only pulling back after Ithuen strikes with an axe that must be silver. Lorica nodded to herself. The Sheriff could handle that one. Other members of the group had already taken potshots at the white werewolf, the one with the fancy-schmancy crossbow.

That left big grey for her.

"You got my back, Anci?" It was a sign of how serious she was that she used the Sulerian's real name instead of a nickname. Her curved, serrated ripknife was already humming, attuning itself to the monstrosity's mana frequency. She hurled her throwing dagger directly at its face, not expecting to catch an eye, but rather hoping to distract it for a moment.

In that instant she lunged forward, darting back and forth so her trajectory wasn't easily predictable. Once she got close enough she darted towards a rear leg, trying to use his bulk to her advantage. She struck without holding back, bringing all her strength and skill to bear. Her arm ached from the effort, but it would be worth it to see the dog bleed.

She jumped back in an attempt to avoid a counter attack, grinning widely even as she danced with death. She drew her dirk in her off-hand, spinning it once before she charged back in. This time she tried to scramble underneath the werewolf's torso, once again using its size to her advantage. It should be harder for it to contort its limbs to hit her from that position, all the while giving her access to its belly. She struck with both knives as she moved, her ripknife's sonic enchantment whirring louder every second.

OOC
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Anci
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If she were asked to place a bet on which one was directing the others, Anci was willing to wager on the gray one being in charge. Physically speaking it was the largest of the two that had shifted and was the first to charge in. The hybrid was a wild card and Anci wasn’t exactly a scholar on the subject of werewolf pack behaviour.


Physically speaking...Anci had doubts if they could actually be bested as it was. Especially with an unknown timer before the rest of Nine Angels gathered to find the source of the fiery beacon and whatever was summoned by Gray’s howl.


Anci unbuckled herself from the harness-saddle and dismounted. She might have had the firepower to put one of them down, but at the cost of destroying the surrounding area wouldn’t win her any kinds of favors. Especially with Ithuen right there, even if she were on their side in this matter.


Fragments of the shattered boulder had gone wide, more than a few had ended up embedded around Anci’s perch. The reflective surfaces danced with lights from the werewolve’s brightspeak. She might not be able to personally silence them, but she might be able to jam their brightspeak at least.


She pulled small, infantile things from the otherside and planted their corruptive essence into some reflective shards. Anci could make out hexagonal eyes staring at her from the mirrored surface, circular eyelids spiraling shut and open as they watched her warily in their gestation. The metal cracked and flowed, elongating into a serpentine form with skeletal wings sprouting out. Liquid metal flowed out between the bones to make thin membranes for flight. The entire surface was jagged and angular, brightly reflective. Looking at Anci their base color started shifting wildly, picking up the multitude of reflective colors from her cloak.


It took some concentration, but she pushed them closer to the otherside and caused them to phase out of existence in the material plane. She could feel the metal bindings anchored around its body more than perceive it by sight. Anci didn’t respond to Lore’s shout, her backup would be obvious in a moment.


It was coiling and shifting around Gray, still invisible and intangible. Violently she pulled its essence apart, a dramatic mitosis of its being to make another copy. Anci waited until Lore pulled back from her first assault to let them through. Reality was rent open as their bodies wiggled out and started spiraling and gliding around him. The shock of going back and forth between the material plane rippled outwards in a burst of freezing cold metal that radiated from their point of impact. Thirty feet around the werewolf the temperature dropped even further as the cobblestone street changed into a dull brass. Moss made of a lighter colored metal grew over a few of the cobblestones, blackened metal lichen sprouted along the walls facing magnetic north.


Anci didn’t need to goad them much, they were already skimming and dancing around the prey she wanted them to go after. Their bodies taking the coloration of Gray’s skin and reflecting distorted versions of the brightspeak he was communicating in.


One of them start undulating in a hypnotic fashion, the brightspeak it was mirroring back was tailored specifically in a way Anci didn’t understand. Soothing, calming colorations in patterns meant to draw the eyes of the other two and slow their movements down. [OOC: Casting Light of Judgement] Its twin snaked sharply around Gray’s face, the multi-angular surfaces amplifying the brightspeak it was reflecting to painful and blinding levels. [OOC: Casting Radiant Glory]


Lorica was moving in for her next attack, Anci hoped the critters could blind and distract the wolves enough to make it count.




OOC and stuff!


Edited by Anci, Sat Oct 29, 2016 4:57 pm.
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Tanya
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Tanya chanted a short spell and let a flash of magic transfer from her hands to Aufdein. "That should take away the pain, but the leg will take some time to heal." She gestured at the fight happening between the werewolves and the rest of the Pariahs. "Last time I saw you, you were peddling a cure for lycanthropy. I don't suppose you have any helpful potions of that sort now, do you?"

The salesman didn't respond, and she didn't have time to wait for him to recover in full. Instead, she wordlessly passed one of her healing potions to Keter and let him take Aufdein away while she, Caelum, and Caedis helped to keep the wolves at bay. Tanya looked over her shoulder at Caelum and Caedis. "You two see if you can borrow weapons off the Sheriff. I'll go hand-to-hand and provide support."

Tanya had no weapons at her disposal that would do more than briefly irritate the werewolf, but someone else was already in the fight. Tanya caught the flaming woman's eye and began working alongside her, trying to flank the beast. She attacked only when the werewolf looked like it had a good shot at Lorica, darting in and lashing at it with a fast punch or kick to send it off-balance for a few crucial seconds.

Caedis and Caelum ran for Ithuen and called out. "Hello! Can I borrow a cup of sugar? No? How about an ax? I'll take good care of it. I promise. I take good care of--"

"Caedis, stop being weird! We need silver, Sheriff. Could you please spare a couple of axes?"

Regardless of Ithuen's response, the two would run to Tanya and Inferna, helping to back up the two of them with their more appropriate weaponry. Caedis dodged left and lashed out at the creature from the side, aiming for its hamstring. Caelum went for it straight-on, swinging his axe in a powerful overhand strike at the beast's skull.

Used:
Edited by Tanya, Sat Oct 29, 2016 8:28 pm.
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Glug Photall
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Numbers don’t mean nearly as much as you think they do, Glug thought as Czajka addressed the werewolves.

He’d seen particularly strong goblins tear through small armies of foes before someone finally took them down. These weren’t goblins, and they definitely weren’t small. He had a fair inkling that one of those werewolves was enough of a fighter to take them all down under the right circumstances. These might just be those. The goblin didn’t like this - not one bit. And then everything happened.

“Whitey” attacked Korso with something that made Glug’s teeth chatter and his ears pop. The gray howled and the black charged; Bearkiller drew first blood, and the black was reeling. The gray struck a spell, deflecting it as easily as breathing, and Glug let loose through the flames put off by the Flaming Maiden. His arrow struck true, as well it should coming from such a highly skilled assassin’s bow, but it didn’t even phase the huge gray monstrosity. And the attack continued, well-planned, artfully orchestrated the way a team should be. But this wasn’t a team; this was a ragtag bunch of people who got metaphorically burned. These werewolves had obviously been working together for a while, as the “Brightspeak” (whatever in the Abyss that was) could likely only carry them so far. The werewolves were a well-oiled machine, and the Pariahs were not.

Glug should not have come here. The only reason he had was that the group shared an ultimate objective. The beacon had been foolish, as likely was this battle. Glug moved as soon as his shaft was loosed, not daring to stay in the same spot; that would have been a grave mistake. An outmatched sniper’s best defense was evasion, just as a sniper’s best offensive position was an elevated point far from major combat. But he had a feeling that there wasn’t time to prolong this battle, and he didn’t want to reveal his trump card just yet. Besides, he didn’t know how strong the walls were. Oh, they were sturdy enough against most foes, but foes that could swat aside spells so hard that they shattered upon the ground…yeah, they needed silver, and desperately, before they made any kind of a real attack against these wolves.

Worse was the matter not only of the beacon, but of that howl as well. It had not been mournful…it was a calling. He was certain of it. More werewolves - or perhaps something worse - would soon be here. He’d heard enough howls from wolves in the wild to know the difference, and he didn’t want to be anywhere near this place when their reinforcements arrived. Besides, his make-shift fire-arrow hadn’t so much as made the gray blink. He needed silver, and as the Pariahs hadn’t yet managed to secure any, Glug had only arrows for ordinary targets. He silently cursed the loss of his magical arrows, wishing he knew how enchant them himself; if he had, he would have been far more effective at the moment.

Instead, he stayed in the shadows, watching what was going on and waiting for an opportunity to do something that would actually have an effect.

OOC
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Storyteller[ST]
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Everyone

Keter, you strike the oncoming bolt and send it flying upward. It gives off three deafening bursts before impacting a building down the street and unleashing another blazing white explosion. Tanya, you ease Aufdein's pain with a spell and ask if he has anything that might help. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. "They destroyed it all." You hand a healing potion to Keter before he teleports away with the rescued man in tow.

Caedis and Caelum, you ask Ithuen for some axes. She doesn't have a flush in her cheeks or that slightly vacant look in her eyes anymore. Ithuen looks focused and keen, and not in a good way. Unhinged. Giggling, she produces axes from the folds in her coat and hurls them at the two of you. Some have a slight silver sheen while others are only plated in silver alloy near the edges.

Your collective retaliation against the three werewolves is a feast for the eyes. The instant White drops her crossbow because of Alex's spell, Yurim steps from the closest shadow and buries a dagger into her back that makes her roar and lash out, even though the wound closes as soon as the blade is out. While you take some claw marks right in the chest, Yurim, your actions still open up the perfect moment for Tian's dagger to punch hilt-deep into her eye. She doesn't even flinch. Grey would have deflected, but he had just been struck by a bolt of white-hot lightning courtesy of Inferna and was unable to move for a bare moment, with Lorica hot on the heels of that opener. Lorica, you hurl your knife at Grey, dart around the wolf -- and then just as you're aiming a hit on the rear leg, a horrific pain wracks your mind. For a single precious moment your eyes are assaulted by warped images of your two closest friends, Anci and Keelin. Dreamlike copies of real memories. The scratches around your eyes deepen.

Lorica, you crash to the ground wearing a quartet of gaping claw wounds across your upper arm. Ithuen leaps over you and slams almost headfirst into the perpetrator, White, chopping and hacking and breaking and grinning wide. Tian, you try to cover her movements, but they're a bit too wild for you to get close. Grey retaliates by shunting Tian with his bulk, grabbing Ithuen and tossing her clean across the street as hard as he can. The wall she hits bursts into splinters and roiling dust. You, Anci, make use of the slight opening to target Grey and the other two wolves with your reflective creatures from the beyond. They swirl all around Grey. A flash of freezing metal doesn't slow him down, but the ensuring spells do. They distort his brightspeak and slow all three of their movements. You all notice that the werewolves are less agile now. One of the creatures curls around Grey's face and releases a powerful flash of light.

He staggers. Now's your chance, Lorica; you're not down for the count yet. You dart under Grey's torso and strike as quick and deep as you can. Each opening you carve belches blood for a single spurt, heals, then re-opens to spurt more blood -- a sickening pulsation that maintains the bleed despite the beast's instant regeneration. Grey, unable to see, roars and goes berserk. He body-slams the ground beneath him, driving his side into the cobbles where he feels you hitting him. Good thing you're fast enough to get out of the damn way, Lorica, or you would've been crushed to death.

Three axes punch into Grey in rapid succession, slowing his rampage. Ithuen bursts from the dust, wild-eyed, and rejoins the fight. White, covered in gushing wounds, has transformed into a monster a little larger than Black and hasn't slowed her attacks one bit. The wood elf goes after them both at the same time, attracting their focus so the rest of you can strike them even more from other angles. She's taking plenty of wounds, but isn't slowing down either. A battle of attrition.

Meanwhile, Black has been successfully separated from his two packmates by sheer force of your numbers. Inferna, you charge Black and then turn broadside at the last second, slicing him deep from neck to tail. Before the wound can heal, Czajka comes up close and releases an intense burst of unholy energy that blackens the cobbles at her enemy's feet. Its spirals worm their way into the injury, peeling the flesh open and sending off a stomach-churning smell. This injury coupled with your lightning stops him from counterattacking altogether. Tanya, you're nailing into Black long before he recovers. You utilize those valuable moments and that slower-healing injury to rain down a hail of punches and kicks. Czajka rests a palm against your back between attacks, filling your limbs with unholy power. You feel Black's bones breaking under your might, and at one point you land a kick so hard that he goes off the cobbles an inch or two.

Despite his broken and rent body, Black isn't relenting. Lips peeling back into a snarl, he launches himself at Tanya and Czajka even while limbs are popping back in place and bones are re-sealing. You both slam into the road back-first. Caedis and Caelum, you're running to help your employer as fast as you can. Black bites into your shoulder, Tanya. Before he can rip off your arm or your head, Czajka fires point-blank magic into his jaws. He relents and she grabs him by those jaws with her demonic hands, fighting with all her might to push up.

Caedis and Caelum, your silver axes bite hard into the wolf. Caedis, you hamstring him; the wound is healing before your eyes, but slowly. Caelum, you focus on protecting Tanya as her bodyguard, attacking him head-on to help her and Czajka out. With the forces of this area's whole group combined, you press the offensive enough for Czajka and Tanya to be able to stand again.

A few of you might notice Ansgar on the fringes of the streets and the current intersection where you're fighting, his sabre flashing in all directions and his off-hand tucked neatly behind his back. He's not fighting wolves. Bodies are falling -- heavily armed ones, not clad in any kind of uniform. Zakona hunters. He's working on his fourth, protecting the intersection from their interference.

The battle has grown very bloody very quickly. At some point someone destroyed White's crossbow; she's not even in hybrid form anymore. All three wolves are horribly mangled by temporary wounds and persisting silver-wounds, but in spite of everything, they haven't slowed down. If you're in or anywhere near the front lines of this fight, you are injured moderately to severely depending on how up-close and personal you're getting with these monsters. How tired are you, having been fighting and slinging spells like your life depended on it (and it does)?

You spot lights out of your peripherals. Lots of them, flashing in different colored patterns with enough intensity to pierce the darkness inherent to Gloomwood. All three werewolves turn their eyes to the twenty or so people riding down the street toward you. You've been fighting in an intersection, and these people are riding in from all four directions. The fight starts to die down as more and more of you notice who is coming.


Keter (Interlude)

The man you just saved slumps his back against the wall and slides down, easing his bad leg onto the half-frozen mud of the alley. Then he sighs, leaning his head back against the wall. "Thank you. I owe my life to you and your friends." He extends his right hand. You notice that the pinky finger on his glove is more rigid than the others. "My name is Aufdein Korso, in case you didn't happen to recognize me. Doktor, inventor..." the man trails off. "Who am I kidding? My wagon is gone, my reputation ruined... I'm not much, currently." Aufdein slouches, draping his hands over his lap. "Sorry. Didn't mean to get so gloomy. I assure you, this isn't my normal demeanor. What's your name, friend? You've got a trustworthy look about you."

After your reply and any follow-up thoughts on the matter, Aufdein glances side to side. "Now I don't mean to dampen the mood further, but I was bitten. Scratched, too. No idea how virulent these wolves are. Sometimes it's just the alfha, sometimes it's all of them. Do you know of any place I can get some lycanthropy cure? Nip that issue right in the bud? Assuming we survive whatever is going down right now in this hell of a city--"

He's interrupted by the reduction in the sounds of fighting, replaced by the talking nearby. (See Everyone section). You both quiet down and listen.


Everyone

They are men and women in clean, neatly pressed Balefire city formalwear. They ride thoroughbred horses lacking in backswamp mutations. Their skin is covered in thick pelts of wiry fur. Their skulls have a pointed snout, varying numbers of wolfish eyes, and canine ears. Markings filled with light flash across their faces and necks and other bits of exposed skin.

The man at the head has a pelt primarily dark brown, but tinged with black and grey at the tips of his body. His face is lined with black stripes beneath his eyes. His bioluminescent markings are stripe-shaped as well, running along the top of his snout, over the crown of his head and around his neck and hands. His smile doesn't quite reach his four shining golden eyes -- an expression that makes this stranger look almost familiar. Bony horns curl around his ears. All the other wolves are looking at him. You estimate about two-dozen in total, all riding on horseback in hybrid form.

The battlefield goes deathly quiet.

"I'm sorry, did I interrupt? Go on," the apparent leader says, folding his hands over his saddle's horn.

White, Black and Grey's eyes all go wide. Their attention is stuck on that man's markings, but he's not saying anything in brightspeak at all.

"Continue. By all means. I'm waiting." The other wolves behind him are a mixture. Some -- the younger ones, it looks like -- can't hide their giddy grins, while others are more somber and businesslike about the whole affair. None of them move to help their kin.

The trio you've been fighting, taking a few moments to make sense of the situation, start turning to face all of you again. Some of their confidence has eroded away, replaced by... not quite fear, but perhaps a desire to survive.

"Ithuen!" the leader adds. "I almost didn't see you. Have you been well?"

"Eat shit and die," Ithuen growls.

One of the werewolves rides up closer to the apparent alfha. This one's got shadow-lover eyes and is trailing a few eyeless middlemen in chains behind his horse. He gets the alfha's attention and flashes brightspeak from the circles on his cheeks. Moments later, an arrow whizzes from the rooftops. The alfha's already looking in that direction, and catches it before it can nail him between the eyes. He examines the concentrated silver on the arrowhead, then breaks the whole missile in half and lets it fall from his hands. "That was a pretty bold move, Mr. Dalca. What if I snapped and charged this whole group? Not very good odds, even with your gang and the Pariahs combined."

No response.

The alfha scratches his chin with a claw. "So... since we're all sitting here staring at each other, I was wondering something. Why is a Sheriff-of-the-Dispatch and a well-respected bounty hunter helping not just a group of famous zakona, but also the Dalca Brothers Gang of criminals? In a fight against Wine River Transport contractors, no less? Not just that. These wolves also work for me. In essence, that puts them with the Balefire Clerks, as well." Ithuen curses under her breath. Czajka looks anxious. Upset. "I'm sure you have your reasons. Anyway, please continue your fight with the three. No matter its outcome, it's win-win for me."

A few of you notice some of the werewolves peeling off into search parties.

What do you do? Grey, Black and White aren't attacking you yet, but they look like they might very soon.


OOC
 
The next ST post cutoff will be Tuesday, November 1 at 4:00pm Mountain.

If needed, ST will make an IC post in Discussion once every evening, including this evening.

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Lorica
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Lorica went still, her eyes fixated on the speaker. Her fingers tightened on the handle of her knives, knuckles going white. She knew who this was. She'd seem a fragment of his memories, seen his casual disregard for Zuraw, his slaughter of Istani refugees. Every fiber of her being demanded that she open him up from neck to navel with her blades.

"You know, we worked for you too, Krupin. Does that make me a Clerk too? Did you come all the way out here to bring me a fancy grey bowler?" Her voice was warm and friendly, but nothing of that reached her eyes. Her lips spread in an expression that was nothing like a smile. "Oh, I forget... It's Lantos these days, right? So hard to keep track."

She cocked her head to one side, as if remembering something. "That reminds me... You promised us the rest of the payment after the job was done? I'd say the job is pretty definitely done. I'd like the rest of what I was promised."

The alfha didn't even blink at the accusation, although some of the other wolves exchanged uneasy glances. "All those deals must have gone to your head. I don't know what you're talking about. I've never even seen you before. Maksym, could you shed a little light, please?" He snapped his fingers toward the shadow-lover nearby, who rode closer. The chained middlemen had to run behind to avoid getting dragged. "This one." The wolf pointed at Lorica.

His answer came surprisingly quick, only a second or two longer than an average pause between question and response. "Lorica 'Wells.' Scarred by another name: Twist. Human, Norwood, Gwilikith. Good with a knife. Killed her own mother with it. Bleak but broken, easy to provoke. Abuse, that sort of thing. Nothing special as far as horrors go. I've seen it all a thousand times. There's plenty here, I'll tell you more later."

"One nasty zakona," the alfha said. "Were you aware, Czajka? How come you're not putting her in fetters right now?”
Czajka stood her ground, shaking her head a little.

"Oh, I see! You've joined this crew."

"What? No!"

"What other explanation could there be?"

Lorica barely heard the back-and-forth between the alfha and the bounty hunter. She went statue-still, her eyes smoldering. Killed her own mother with it. The words echoed in her mind. They couldn’t be true. Marcus had killed her mother, her father, taken her from her old life and turned her into something monstrous. I didn’t… I couldn’t have…

Lorica realized shewas shaking, quivering like a leaf in a storm. It might look like fear, but nothing was further from the truth. She was furious. It took all of her self-control to keep herself from lunging at the alfha. The Ethereal had her back, even if the rest of the Pariahs seemed willing to submit. Its cold promise seeped into her brain. She ignored Czajka's surprised look and Anci's warning from earlier. She didn't care. Information flooded her mind. She managed to smile despite the fact her skull felt like it was frozen solid.

She ignored Carmen's attempt to make peace, taking another step forward. "What, you don't want your inbred mutts knowing you dealt with a bunch of humans? Is that it?" Her voice was surprisingly calm, with only a hint of a quaver hinting at her true emotions. "The Ethereal knows now, so they will before too long. Ask your little friend there. Go ahead. I'll wait." Her eyes focused on Marksym for an instant before going back to Lantos, dismissing the other wolf as unimportant.

"Trust me, you [removed]... You haven't seen the worst of me yet. I'm saving that for you."

The werewolf shrugged at the insults and threats. "I don't know what you're going on about, nor do I much care. Are you trying to undermine my authority? My pack knows full well I had dealings with the Scribe. I care little about what species people are, as long as we can have a good working relationship." He cleared his throat to dismiss the line of thought. "So, is Zuraw with you people? She was on the same barge as you. Has her adaptation grown so powerful I can't see her here even when I'm looking for her, or did you whisk her away somewhere?"

The mention of the half-werewolf seemed to bring Lorica back to her senses. She shook her head. “She’s not yours anymore. She never will be again. You come after her and I’ll shove a knife so far up your asshole it tickles your tonsils. Let’s see how fast you heal from that.”

Her thoughts were racing. This was the exact kind of werewolf that Viktor had warned them to avoid, the kind that didn’t have the good sense to die no matter how many times you stabbed them. She wanted to do nothing more than put that theory to the test… but if she failed, what would happen to Zuraw? The knight would probably go crawling back to this monster. She wouldn’t feel like she had anywhere else to go. As long as Lorica was alive, she could keep her away from him, safe from him. I can’t leave her alone, not yet. She isn’t ready.

There was really only one option available to her. Lorica tapped the Wellspring, focusing all of her willpower on a simple mantra: Bog bog bog bog bog- The words lost all meaning as the corrupted font of life energy flooded her. The tension drained out of her body, leaving her loose, relaxed, oozing confidence out of every pore. She grinned at Lantos. “Bog,” she spat, her voice rough and gravelly. She waved one hand at him, her flesh rippling and wriggling with throbbing veins.

Magic flowed out of her, sinking into the road underneath the alfha and his pack. The earth began to liquefy, transforming from solid ground into gooey, sticky mud. Their horses should begin to sink into the quagmire almost instantly. The air grew hot and humid, a harsh change to the normal chill of Balefire. The clashing temperatures produced a fogbank surrounding the quagmire. It would dissipate within minutes, but for now it provided a veil of obscurity.

Lorica didn’t care what happened to them. She didn’t care about anything, right now. She veered to one side, glancing at the werewolves blocking her path. She howled, her jaw opening impossibly wide. Her teeth sharpened to jagged points, skin crawling with dancing black thorns. Instead of engaging she jumped over the werewolves, hurtling into the dark air. She came crashing to the ground almost fifty feet away. Even if that wasn't outside the cordon of the bounty hunters and werewolves, she had no intentions of stopping there. Lost in the throes of madness, she continued to bound away with preternatural jumps, fleeing into the Dark District. She knew there were horses near the springs. In other words: Prey.

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Glug Photall
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The battle raged on, swiftly and furiously, spells and abilities flying in every direction. The werewolves were taking hits that barely phased them, although a few actually caused some damage. Glug, knowing full well that these wolves were far too powerful for fire to affect them - much - did not waste his limited supply of arrows. Instead, he merely moved from shadow to shadow, trying to catch a glimpse of Korso - but the man was gone. Keter - the traitor - had teleported away and taken Korso with him. How would that end, Glug wondered briefly? But there was far too much going on for him to concern himself with the man or his charge at the moment.

Lorica was badly wounded, and a mad-looking Ithuen stepped in to save her. The gray interjected but was quickly assaulted in turn; the attack was extremely effective, disrupting the wolves’ Brightspeak and slowing them considerably. They no longer looked quite so organized. Whatever Tian was doing, it was working. The gray had become the target now, though he was putting an abyssal fight. It was only Lorica, who wasn’t yet as dead as she had seemed just a moment ago, who appeared to be hurting him the most. The white charged in, changing and growing stronger, yet the black had been separated. It was chaos - the kind of chaos Glug would have welcomed had he still been in possession of his enchanted arrows.

It was as he took a mental step back from the chaos that he saw it - a flash of metal out of the corner of his eye. The big one...Ansgar, he recalled now. Yes, Ansgar was fighting some kind of bounty hunters - hunters likely after the zakona. Glug might not be able to do much against the wolves, but against the hunters…yes, that he could do. He readied another arrow, moving quickly into position - and then he noticed the lights in the distance, beyond Ansgar’s fight with the hunters. Glug himself had only loosed a single shaft, having realized quickly that he was not nearly as useful as he usually was, that was probably why he noticed Ansgar and Brightspeak of the wolves now closing in fast. Taking a quick look around, he knew at once that they were in trouble.

He was right. Everything stopped, quieting, like the chill of a graveyard suddenly falling upon them all. There is a brief exchange - not a pleasant one. This werewolf is clearly the alfha, the leader of the pack now surrounding the Pariahs. Brightspeak flashes, an arrow flies - and the alfha catches it as easily as he breathed. Glug scowls deeply from his hidden position, not drawing his arrow taut but not stowing it, either. The alfha…he didn’t like this one. He was too confident…he knew the zakona were completely screwed. His fellow zakona had to know it as well. He knew that they knew it.

Everyone knew.

His eyes flicked from side to side as he saw werewolves disappearing into the city surrounding them. Why? Perhaps they were searching…searching for Korso; searching for other zakona. Then a horrible thought struck him…Kir Lantos? Was this the shifted form of the man who’d tried to send the whole of the Pariahs into the Abyss (or as close to it as possible)? His hands tightened around his bow and arrow as his scowl deepened, not yet drawing but sorely tempted. He knew it wouldn’t do any good, and yet…if this was Kir Lantos in his alfha form…

Ansgar claimed he had a way for the Pariahs to escape, at least.

Ansgar walked toward the rest of the Pariahs. He had a few cuts here and there, but wasn't winded and looked to be in much better condition than many of his fellows. There was a look of determination in his eyes. Finality.

"This is fitting. A crossroads in my life, taking place on a literal crossroads. Which direction should I go, I wonder?"

In spite of it all, he was smiling just enough to show a sliver of draconic teeth. Ansgar spoke softly to minimize how many people could hear beyond the Pariahs.

"I can hold them off. Every single one of them, long enough for you all to escape. I swear on my first life's breath. Just say the word."


But that might cost him his life. Granted, Glug was somewhat selfish with regard to his own mortality; it seemed like a suitable enough plan for him. But they would also lose a tremendous physical advantage, especially if Ansgar’s claim proved true. It was a tough decision, tactically speaking. Truthfully, Ansgar was the only one that Glug might be willing to trust completely right now. He had shared information with Tanya via the communiquill and the marked parchment only out of necessity for survival and the thought of potentially developing a plan of revenge against Kir Lantos. Keter had already proven himself traitorous. But Ansgar seemed to be willingly sacrifice his life to save all of them.

Glug scowled at Krupin’s words. He didn’t even have the decency to acknowledge the Pariahs. In fact, the longer this went on, the more annoyed Glug became. The only thing Kir Lantos did acknowledge was Zuraw. Interestingly, it seemed that he had dealt with Bacek before - but that wasn’t really surprising, nor did Glug truly give a rat’s tail. They might win this fight here, but at what cost? No, the best thing was to wait. There was no point in rushing things right now. Even if they took down the trio they’d been fighting initially - and they had strength in them yet - they still had a score of other werewolves to deal with. That wasn’t even counting Kir Lantos himself. Glug was probably one of the few here who wasn’t already exhausted from the initial fight.

Glug decided to take Carmen’s hint. He could find out what happened next if he really needed to, but giving into his anger would only get him killed. Given how Korso had vanished, he doubted he could track the man; if the others were smart, they’d eventually bring him back to the Castle. He could be protected there. Glug stowed his arrow and his bow. He closed his cloak around him and adjusted his flatbrim. Already hiding in the shadows, he slipped deeper into them, though that probably wouldn’t conceal him from the werewolves. It was more habit than anything. He stood ready to draw again should he need to do so, but for the time being, there was little more that he could personally accomplish.

Lorica, however, did not seem content to wait. She liquefied the ground beneath the pack’s horses and turned the air into that of a sauna. Fog sprang up as well, and Glug eyed the goings-on carefully. He wasn’t going to strike unless he had a sure shot, one that was going to do a lot more than just leave a scratch. If he couldn’t win, given his recent failure and the current situation, then he wasn’t going to bother trying to save Lorica’s soon-to-be-rotting hide. He might be pissed off, but he wasn’t stupid. And apparently, neither was Lorica. She was gone moments later, fleeing into the relative safety of the Dark District. Glug realized he had tensed up, ready to either fight or flee himself, and he relaxed himself now. This wasn’t visible beneath his cloak, but it didn’t need to be. The wolves had probably smelled it.

Truth be told, this was his encounter with werewolves. What he figured out immediately was this: given how powerful the three the Pariahs had just been fighting clearly were, Kir Lantos had to be ten times more so if he was the alfha. That settled it, then: the long game it was. He had played it before. He would play it again. So for now, he calmly removed a cigar and stuck it between his lips; lighting it, he shrugged his cloak back around him in full once more and waited to see what would happen next.

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Edited by Glug Photall, Tue Nov 1, 2016 5:06 am.
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Carmen
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Inferna dismounted and a moment later her body erupted in flames. The fire lasted only an instant before it sputtered out, leaving only a bare wisp of smoke where she'd been standing. Cinder turned and bounded back toward the shop, squeezing his lithe body through the doorway just as Inferna walked out of the burning hearth.

"See?" Inferna said, not to Cinder, but herself. "Doesn't this go so much easier when we cooperate?"

The fire upon her head dwindled and died and her clothes, armour, and weapons melted away into ash. A great cloud of grey dust billowed around her, and when she stepped out she was no longer Inferna, but Carmen instead.

"Let's not argue. Not now," Carmen replied softly.

Her stoat, back to its tiny size, scrambled up her leg and wrapped itself around Carmen's neck. Dismissing her glamour, and appearing as her true self, Carmen took a deep breath and walked outside, approaching the confrontation with grace in her step, her back straight, eyes fixed on Kir Lantos. She snapped two fingers and her golden horse trotted from its post to her side and she swung herself atop it, riding side saddle as she closed the distance between herself and the wolves.

"Alfha," she said with a respectful bow of her head, her tongue mimicking the region's accent. "There need not be any more blood shed on the streets today. You have your pack. Or, respectfully, some of your pack. We have Cjazka, Ithuen, The Dalcas and their gang, and The Pariahs. Neither side has the upper hand here, and I think you see that. What's more, a fight here gains nothing for either of us. We possess nothing you want, and likewise you have nothing we want. We could fight, her and now. Many will die on both sides. But for what cause? What gain? I say 'none'."

Carmen looked at the trio of wolves they had been fighting and gave each a hard and knowing gaze.

I am sparing your lives. Your alfha would just as soon see you dead. Remember this when next we meet.

She did not directly say what she thought the groups should do next; part ways without further hostility. That decision she left for the Alfha to voice, as saying it aloud herself, and expecting him to agree, would only appear as an attempt to undermine his authority. This was not the time to slight Lantos; that time would come later.

Kir made a thinking noise, smiling thinly at Carmen. The look in his eyes wasn't respect, even though it attempted to be. More like amusement covering something deeper and uglier. The alfha leaned over toward Maksym. "Is she human?"

"Half-elf."

"Ah." That seemed to calm him a bit. He turned his attention back to Carmen. "You're right. I'd never want a bloodbath here. Not in this... great, wonderful city full of potential." He tossed a pointed look at Ithuen. "Are you listening, Mr. Dalca? Nine Angels needs more of this sort."

He was about to say more when Lorica intervened.




There was an exchange between Lorica and Lantos, which swiftly escalated, and ended with Lorica launching her feral self into the Dark District, screeching like a banshee.

"Zuraw is not with us here," Carmen said firmly, taking hold of this conversation again.

With a click of her tongue her horse's anti-magic field flickered to life. At a slow trot, careful not to look threatening, Carmen brought her mount alongside Lantos', the suppression field solidifying the ground beneath their feet, protecting them and those nearby from Lorica's spell.

She shot Lorica's fleeing form a hard look. Information was useful, but here and now, threats were not. The fight against Lantos had to be done with cold calculation, not in a fit of juvenile anger. Lantos wanted to play a long game, and so did Carmen - she knew she could play it better.

"Even if the Ethereal can't tell you where she is, it can tell you that I speak the truth. You'll not get her back in a contest of might. At least, not at this juncture," she said, watching Lantos carefully. She was close to him now, too close for her comfort, but she did not show it.

"I suggest we part ways for now. Each of us could better spend their time than this, I am sure. Perhaps we could meet later, you and I, on more neutral ground. We can talk about Zuraw. Korso. Nine Angels. Or whatever you wish."

You are the Alfha, after all.

She smiled with all the graciousness she had to offer, and to the world it seemed genuine. Her disdain for him did not bleed through her expression the way his did; she was better at this than he was, and knowing it almost made her heart flutter. That, however, along with the rest of her emotions, was muted by her own self discipline.

Father. If you could see me now.

If only he would respond and end this before one of the other Pariahs interrupted again. . .

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Edited by Carmen, Tue Nov 1, 2016 10:39 am.
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Mobster Man
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The fighting was brutal, Yurim's style was to dash in and out of combat, use his agility to get in attacks with his magic daggers, this tactic landed him one hell of a nasty claw mark across his face, a broken mask, and a handful of nicks and cuts from attacks that Yurim could not completely dodge. Yurim wrapped his hands tightly around his daggers as he readied himself for another attack... when Kir Lantos showed up, The Big Bad Wolf himself.

Lantos' words sparked Yurim's disdain, how dare he looked down on him, he was Yurim Shadewalker, The One Shadow, the greatest Phantom Thief Balefire had ever seen, or at least the most theatrical.

Yurim could barely contain his hate, his allies were a mix of lunatics, killers, and traitors while Lantos had a freaking werewolf gang, even with their hidden allies Yurim didn't like their odds. Yurim stepped forward and wagged a finger at the big bad wolf, "Don't go assuming things bud. Also you might want to teach your mutts how to keep a poker face, seriously, most of them made a face that said, 'Oh shit they know the boss's secret!'. I mean really... did these guys not grow up in Balefire or are they just to stupid for their own and your own good?"

He looked back to the man that had spoken about Lore, "What does your thing say about little ol' me? I mean I bet most of it is some lie concocted by the Big Bad Wolf to make me seem worse than I am, but I want to hear it."

Lantos smiled. "Thanks for letting me know. I'll make sure the pups are adequately disciplined." Fear crossed the eyes of the wolves who'd reacted to the revelation.

Maksym, the shadow-lover flanking Lantos, chuckled at Yurim's request for a reading. "The One Shadow does not understand the workings of his native plane?" he taunted. "The Shadow does not lie. Not in the traditional sense. Information can be buried or unburied, but never warped, except perhaps by those unskilled who try to force their biases upon it."

"You got him rambling," Kir quipped.

Yurim smirked, "The Shadows can hide and obscure, my dad may not have been there all the time, but he did teach me three things. First is when you're six you can kill a man with a sharpened piece of pipe while he strangles your mom to death. Second, only very peculiar shadow-planars can cross planes like he does. Finally, he taught me that the shadow plane was not something to look into and be happy about, it is a place of greed and selfishness, but a different kind, because Shadow Planars aren't like us. So let that sink in shadow-gazer, looking into the Shadows will give you my name, but it will not tell you everything about me. After all... the shadows love me more than you."

Yurim looked to Lorica bound off and sighed, "I'll get her, someone save me some Lycan-whatever to cure me once you're done talking to the the Big Bad Wolf."

With that said he walked past them and whistled for his horse. As he mounted he whispered to Angsgar, "Do not go crazy big guy. Better to save anything big for the finale."

Yurim rode after Lorica, the fatigue settling into his bones, he'd need to rest after dealing with Lorica. The claw marks weren't bleeding terribly, but he knew he'd feel woozy if he got into another fight. His horse ran through buildings, phasing through them to ditch any pursuers, he'd make sure Lorica didn't get herself killed at the very least.

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Anci
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With the rain come the lightning


The pariahs were in a stand off, more accurately in the middle of a stand off. Small movements suggested Viktor wasn't just here by himself. The the Dalca on one side and Lantos on the other, they were stuck deadcenter of it all. Anci felt sympathy for the three wolves they were fighting, she couldn't exactly cast the first stone innocently in regards to their occupation. Now their employer, their leader, was more or less willing to cut them loose. Or worse afterwards it sounded like.


She wasn't going to lash out further at them. There was a lot bigger problem to take care of, and he seemed to be getting a kick out of antagonizing Lore.


Anci mounted and strapped herself onto her mount, if things didn't de-escalate peacefully she needed to get out of here quick. Froggu picked its way down the side of building, hanging off of it so Anci angled herself in the saddle to mostly stay upright.. Ansgar seemed the better for wear, especially compared to the others who had been right in the thick of it with the wolves.


Froggu dismounted and approached at Anci's urging, its long tongue darting in and out as it tasted the air.


"Ansgar, you held your own back there really well." She couldn't keep the impressed surprise from her voice. Anci didn't think a style like his would have been all that useful against multiple opponents, much less in the confines of a street. "If the others can not talk the way out of this, could you be our spear tip? The others look roughed up, I do not know if they would be up to the task. We still got a lot of work to bring this place a little closer to utopia!"


Then Lore suffered a little episode. Anci was fairly gratful she left. The last thing they needed was for Lore to start hacking into the other Pariahs.


Attracted by the fast movement, Anci's summons didn't need much goading to pursue her. She sent the hypnotic one after her, Anci would have to rely on the link to know if it was going to strike out at Lore to suppress it. God forbid something else caught its attention and it wandered off. With a sense of regret she turned back to Ansgar but didn't quite look him in the eyes.


"I have to go, I have to save her before she does something more reckless. Yurim is going to need my help."


Anci turned back to Alexandra and pulled her other summon down. It started coiling around Alex, keeping a healthy distance from her. "You should be able to tell it what to do. It will kill it, but this thing can make a very large colony nest. I have used it before to crush a few buildings and ships that got in my way. Use it if you need it, it will die soon one way or another."


Cautiously Anci got Froggu to hop off, she didn't want to rile up the werewolves anymore. Who knew how much Lore's bog would piss them off. She'd take to the rooftops, using Froggu's climbing and jumping to cover the distance in a relatively safer and quicker route than the packed streets. Anci looked back one last time. If things had escalated into a fight she was willing to infect another piece of metal and summon forth a colony nest herself. Only this one she could destabilize its structure for a monstrous explosion. That should shake off pursuit from Lantos at least momentarily. Afterwards or otherwise she would follow her summon's signature to track down Lore and bring her back to a more sound state of mind one way or the other.


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Keter
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The noise of battle suddenly dropped out in an unexpected manner, replaced as it was not by an exchange of any sort of blows, but instead of words. Of course, as was the case with such drastic and dramatic changes, tensions were higher than before. At least with battle it was clear where everybody stood, who was making what moves, what might occur, but the situation that the Black Monkey listened in on was just waiting to explode violently. Fortunately even Dalca's apparent failed sniping did not cause things to erupt into chaos.

The knife-brandishing woman's simplest details were listed out with ease, the loss of control over her own information leaking out into open air by command of the enemy leader. How quickly that information was shared, broken down into simplicity, and just how much it shared with everybody listening. It was exactly why Keter was only sharing his stories piecemeal, careful to not let the Ethereal break into the shadows of his mind, not letting too much information spread out to be used against him. Surely as he spent more time in the wonderfully dark spot on Imythess's surface that information would eventually bleed out into the ether, but for now he was little more than an enigma, an incarnation of a monkey and nothing else, and that's exactly all he wanted strangers to know while he got his footing.

Keter cursed beneath his breath in Nalaian as Lorica seemed to go practically feral, reminding him of just how crazed this group seemed to be. She was simple-minded, easily played by Lantos.

Others, more reasonable, having learned to be more careful, decided to use their own words or just keep silent. Those, Keter gained some small bit of respect for. Chaos would only beget chaos, and until they learned better how to use the particular brand of unpredictability in this land to their advantage like the natives could, they had to play it safe and try to avoid conflict. Once they had this land mastered, when they struck it could be for the first and final time. Much like how Keter had suggested their initial job be handled, as it might have played against Krupin's planning.

Keter merely stayed quiet, listening closely and paying eve closer attention to the shifting of the shadows. If any of those wolves were coming after Korso, he would leave once again into the shadows with his Shade's old acquaintance. There was no point in getting into a fight with an unknown amount of enemies with further unknown capabilities who only had so few ways they could truly be handled.
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Tanya
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Tanya took advantage of the momentarily lull in hostilities to fix up her shoulder. The bestial graft had helped protect her from the wolf's jaws, but she'd forgotten how much living flesh could hurt. There was a lot to be said for an arm that couldn't feel pain.

Her priority was to staunch the bleeding. She rummaged through her supplies and came out with a large mason jar full of white goo. It didn't look much like the sort of thing one would want to put on an open wound, but when she popped open the top and wiped it along her shoulder it quickly hardened, forming a tight bandage and stemming the bleeding. She also took a small portion of Bright Creeper Root that Farethi had gathered and popped it into her mouth, grimacing at the taste. It was likely she'd need more soon, but there was plenty at the shop. No need to be stingy about it.

Despite her injuries, she was barely fatigued. The blood graft she'd taken was doing an impressive job. Still, she didn't want to try outrunning a mounted werewolf, and her and her employees' horses had been spooked when the werewolves arrived. She caught Caedis' eye and gestured him over with her head. "Round up the horses. We might have to leave in a hurry."

It looked as though at least some of their enemies might be convinced not to fight, however. Carmen was negotiating with Kir Lantos, and despite the interruption when a couple of members of their group tried to flee on their own, she seemed to be doing fairly well. Of course, that didn't solve the problem of the zakona hunters, but with the full force of the Pariahs in addition to the Dalca's men, Tanya was fairly confident in their odds.

Madame Tanya glanced at the three werewolves they had been fighting. They looked on edge, but their wounds were slowly healing. The Pariahs would have to deal with them one way or another. A jolt of pain shot up Tanya's shoulder as she turned. "Goddamn," she muttered. She looked over at Caelum. "None of us are in good condition to keep fighting. I'm going to see if I can talk them down. Watch my back. I don't have any silver."

She approached the three werewolves with her hands outstretched and palms out. She looked at the black one. "My apologies for any injuries I caused you, although I see you're healing well. I don't think any further hostility is necessary. It doesn't look like it'll go well for either of us. Kir Lantos seems upset with you. I suppose you know more than I do about his mercy than I do, though. If you think he'll forgive you for whatever you've done wrong, you can try your luck against us again. But if not, let's go our separate ways. You won't risk angering him further by causing that bloodbath, and I'll even heal your wounds if you'd like. There's no point leaving you like this if we're not fighting."

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