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Cairns on the Wine River [FIN]; [ST05][Signups Closed]
Topic Started: Sat Sep 17, 2016 1:22 pm (8,267 Views)
Alexandra
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Alex watched passively as her allies became a disorganized mass. Very quietly she watched and waited and hoped that the diplomacy would work, but her blood was already boiling. The rage had come. Her fingers fidgeted. She wanted to start casting spells. Some primeval ooze rose up as a few members of her party left. She looked to Anci, but remained wordless. If she spoke, her rage might come tumbling out.

If the diplomacy failed, Alex's plan would change. With a flick of her wrist came down a hail of bolts of flame, right across the front of the enemy group. "Summon, impede them!" Alex ordered the beast, but just as quickly began her own chant. She moved quickly into the words of the arcane language, and a spell burst from her outstretched hand. Without a second to waste, she tossed a second copy of that spell. Two bursts of fire landed among the group - hopefully knocked down by the coming colony and then impeded further by the mire. She summoned more of her energy, forming a long streak of flame beside her. She sent it tearing into the sky, slowly at first and then quickly picking up speed to dive into the pack. If it struck an inorganic surface, it would pierce and travel through to explode behind. But as it moved, she had already begun to turn her horse to run. She swerved to grab Ansgar and pull him onto the back of her horse with her free hand. She could feel her mana draining, but she had plenty of power left.

"Retreat! Everyone! This isn't the time with so many of us already gone," Alex shouted! If Ansgar was too heavy to carry both Apple and herself, Alex planned to leap off her mount and take to the skies on wings of fire. If Alex felt that the werewolves were going to reach them too quickly for her to finish her set of spells, she would tell Ansgar to take Apple and flee.

ooc
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Tian
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Sheer lunacy to go against a foe unprepared, and unprepared they had been. He had known it at the outset, but could nevertheless never back down. The only reason all of them were not dead was simply sheer numbers; three werewolves, however powerful, could not overcome twelve foes of not inconsiderable strength as if they were nothing.

Tian had fair poorly. The beasts had savaged him. He had come up on his feet, blood dripping from knives - his blood, dripping from gaping wounds in his arms. It ran down his back where claws had slashed through leather and flesh, scoring bone. Oh, there was pain....but it was very distant. That he was aware of it at all spoke volumes as to how great it should be. Despite his injuries, though, he stood steady. Truth to tell, he would probably die if he went through much more. Probably. He wasn't entirely certain what he was, anymore, but mortal was not really in it much.

He eyed the lately come, and couldn't help himself. He was torn to pieces, held together by small bits, but he would be damned if he didn't get at least a little of his trademark snark in. Interrupting? No, no. You can call yourself the half-time show. Either way, there is plenty for everyone.

He nodded when the others spoke. There was no profit to this battle other than bleeding people off of both gangs and, truth to tell, there was plenty of profit for Kir Lantos. His resources were much larger than the Pariah's own limited resources; they could not afford to replace their numbers. The long view had, for him, been fruitful over the years. Now was not the time for a straight up fight. He did not look at the three wolves they had been fighting. They had not tasted everything he could dish, even though he was probably not capable of much of it at the moment.

Ithuen, I believe if we live through this, I will buy you a dozen stiff drinks if you'd kindly join me in that endeavor, he said in a low voice. In a louder voice, he added to the alfha, We can take this conversation up at a different time, as the Lady says.. I might have a few 'words' for you by then. The kind with an, eh-heh-heh, edge.
Edited by Tian, Tue Nov 1, 2016 9:48 pm.
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Storyteller[ST]
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Everyone

Lorica, you transform and cast a spell, then flee. The ground turns boggy around the horse-riding werewolves. Their mounts move of their own accord, stomping the muck to stay free of it and moving onto more solid cobbles when they can. While the increase in temperature does cast water vapor into the air, the wind dissipates it quickly.

Carmen, you attempt to salvage the interaction by canceling the effect on Kir. You tell him that Zuraw is not with you all. Oddly enough, Kir doesn't respond. You suggest that they part ways and offer to meet with him later. "I love how self-assured you are. Like you genuinely think you matter. I suppose that alone takes guts. Yeah, sure, when the Wine River Pariahs are more than just faces on posters, maybe I'll entertain the thought of a meeting. Until then, you won't get far past the scorchliner station's front desk." The way he says it shows that he's describing what he believes to be an impossibility.

Glug, you do some more nothing. Yurim, you reply to Maksym and then hunt after Lorica. Anci, you mount up and ask Ansgar to be a pointman rather than a martyr in case things go south. He nods. After sending a summon to hang out near Alex, you head off to get Lorica as well. The wolves watch you leave, flashing brightspeak at each other. Tian, you quip about drinking to Ithuen. She's not looking completely 'here.' White-knuckle grip on her silver axes, battle stance, eyes never leaving Kir Lantos. You're not even sure if she heard you.

"Yeah, I'll leave you lot alone," Kir continues, not moving from his spot, "so long as you don't interfere with the scorchline being built. As a group, you look cobbled together. Barely functional, surviving only on luck. Do you even have a leader? The only people I've seen actually taking initiative are that Lorica and the half-elf."

"Carmen," Maksym interjects.

"You're like some kind of rickety bridge that'll fall over under too much pressure. Why waste effort crushing you when you'll collapse in on yourselves anyway?"

For those of you with a decent perception of social matters (Adept Diplomacy or higher), it strikes you as odd that Kir is continuing the conversation. What is there left to discuss if he already said he'd leave you alone, implying that he wouldn't fight? He hasn't made a single move to leave, nor have his pack. In fact, the more he talks, the more rapid the brightspeak is getting across the whole group. He's been signaling in light ever since Zuraw was brought up. But for those untrained, he just strikes you as overly wordy or perhaps too full of himself to shut up.

While this is going on, Caedis and Caelum have rounded up the horses for a potential getaway. Tanya, you try to reason with White, Black and Grey, who are still standing in the middle of the intersection with their bleeding injuries. They've already gone from borderline aggressive to uneasily watching the situation, since so many of you have passed up the chance to continue the fight. Tanya, you're probably hoping your offer will be the final nail in that coffin. You approach Black specifically. He keeps glancing between you, Kir, and the other wolves.

"Okay," Black murmurs, limping up to you. "We'll go our separate ways. Please heal us."

"The Wine River Pariahs are ever-merciful," Kir narrates. "Maybe they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe they're pawns of fate. Either way, clearly their nasty reputation belies their kind-hearted nature. Heroes in a town full of villains. I can't blame you for joining them, Czajka."

"I haven't joined them," she shoots back.

Tanya, you heal their wounds as Kir speaks.

"You know, you can make like those other Pariahs and leave," Kir says, addressing everyone but looking at Ithuen in particular. "We came to a peaceful resolution. Nothing more to see here. I'm just waiting for my wolves to be healed so we can get back on the road."

"Don't remember you talking so damn much," the Sheriff says. "I ain't leaving til it's actually over."

Kir cranes his snout up to the rooftops. "Then I suppose you're still all there? Dalca Brothers Gang?" Maksym confirms with a nod. "Bunch of criminals and criminal-lovers, and yet you're treating me like some villain. Well... at least this bullshit Nine Angels culture will fade away soon enough." By the time he's done speaking, you're done healing, Tanya. The werewolves bow their heads graciously and turn to leave. Kir removes his grey bowler hat, brushes off some of the tiny snowflakes that were beginning to collect on it, and directs his horse into a walk as he puts it back on. "Be seeing you."

The pack starts to leave. Looks like you actually got out of this pinch in a relatively bloodless manner. You have a few good seconds to mount your horse.

"We should visit the shop," Czajka says.

Ithuen still hasn't moved. The Dalca Brothers Gang haven't shown themselves, either.


Interlude - Keter

"Are we just going to wait here?" Korso says after a while. "This doesn't feel safe. We should mo--"

A spike of solid darkness bursts from the merchant's chest, spewing clear-colored blood. Aufdein grabs for it. From your hiding place you spot a werewolf rider closing in, somehow able to see you. Before they can get close, you grab your charge and both disappear into shadows. Where did you teleport, Keter?

When you come to, wherever you are, the spike that impaled Aufdein is gone but his wound remains. He's still breathing, but isn't mobile or speaking. He's got a hand pressing against the three-inch-wide hole to stem the bleeding. What do you do?


Everyone

A very short time has passed since the wolves first decided to leave. Many are now out of sight. Kir Lantos isn't. He stops. "In a place like this, you have no choice but to be ruthless." All of his luminescent markings turn solid red. Maksym howls.

A flurry of elemental projectiles, crossbow bolts, and arrows aim at all of you remaining in the intersection. The werewolves on horseback have scattered into the urban maze, reappearing in front of you or at your flanks depending on how they outmaneuvered you. Anci, you're long-gone by now, so you can't enact your backup plan, although your summon has remained with Alex at her command. Alex, you had a plan in case diplomacy broke down. Explosions and searing-hot flames light up the city blocks, scouring the earth and forcing the wolves to spread out even more. White explodes from a nearby side-street and swipes you so hard across the back that you fall to the ground, Alex. Her muscles bunch up, preparing to lunge and sink her jaws into your neck, but Ithuen Bearkiller plows into her with wild blows from her silver axes. She rips so deep and so brutally into the wolf's neck that White's body eventually goes limp.

"Traitor!" Black roars, referring to some chaos down the street. Instead of attacking you all, Grey has made a run for it. Three other wolves maul him to death. Kir rides around the streets, directing with lights and the occasional word.

The Dalca Brothers Gang isn't idle. You hear frequent whizzing of projectiles past your ears. Wolves left and right are pausing to rip arrows out of steaming wounds. It's a sickening sight, the lengths those wolves go to remove the barbed arrows from their flesh. Maksym is focused. Neither arrow nor fire is hitting Kir or his small retinue of bodyguards. He's just never in the right place at the right time to get hit.

"Focus on the real threats," the alfha snaps at one point, although his words are likely hard to hear in the cacophony of it all.

Czajka does her best to cover for all of you and fend off the nearest wolves, but eventually whistles. Her steed appears moments later, cloaked in ribbons of wind, and she wastes no time mounting up. "You heard Alex! Run!"

Ithuen Bearkiller is stuck chopping the same half-dead werewolf over and over, only pausing to cut down a horse charging her. Czajka fights her way through and wrenches Ithuen out of her violent stupor long enough to get her on horseback with her. Ansgar grabs you, Alex, and if necessary loads you onto your horse Apple, then climbs on. Apple makes an unhappy noise, but runs anyway.

How are you retreating? The explosions, destruction and widespread outburst of violence has driven away the zakona hunters and anyone else not directly involved. However, wolves are almost literally snapping at your heels. Their horses are quick, maneuverable and fearless, many capable of supernatural feats such as phasing and teleportation. Black is still in beast form, healed and at-large; he is just as fast as the horses and capable of long leaps.

Further adding to the chaos as you retreat is the appearance of several Dalca Brothers Gang members on the ground. Yevhen is focused on his horse archery, and the lieutenant Nadi has set up some kind of ramshackle looted Ivory League accelerator just inside an abandoned building. The damage a single shot does to a passing wolf on horseback (and the street behind it, and the building behind it) is a horror better fit for a warzone than here, but at least that accelerator is on your side. Its shots are slow.

Despite all the chaos, you can tell that this battle is not the kind in which a winner and loser will be clear. It's a series of random chases and retreats and brief exchanges of blows. The wolves are clearly organized, but their goal is to maximize damage in a short amount of time. If you've been keeping a low profile this entire time it might be fairly easy for you to escape on your own, but what about your allies? The horse bearing both Czajka and Ithuen is getting swarmed with highly coordinated attacks.


OOC
 
The next ST post cutoff is 4:00pm on Friday, November 4.

For this round, you can control the actions of enemy NPCs your character is in direct contact with, but you can't decide the outcome of your attacks.

Fast dialogue with NPCs in Discussion is not available this round. You can still use Discussion for quick dialogue between players, but if you have something to say to an NPC then please just put it in the main topic.

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Glug Photall
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This was going on for far too long. What the hell was Lantos playing at? Was he going to shut up any time soon?

It seemed that he was, at least at first. The wolves were dispersing. Glug watched it all through a light haze of cigar smoke, not saying a word, not moving a muscle. Yeah, he was doing a whole lot of nothing, but what could he do right now without silver? But Lantos wasn’t through, and Glug tensed. He stopped his horse and spoke again. Yeah, he was gonna try something…and at the exact moment that he heard the collection of thwips from every direction at once, he spun and ducked. His cloak flew about, catching the bolts that would have otherwise drawn his blood. As he whirled into a combative stance once more, holes in his cloak and a few bolts still hanging from it, his bow flew into his hand and an arrow was nocked at once.

But Glug didn’t fire at Lantos. He loosed his shaft at the horse he was riding, seeking to kill it - or cripple it at the very least - thereby depriving Lantos of his mount. Glug could be ruthless, all right. He was a goblin, after all, even if he wasn’t the same kind of evil bastard that this son-of-a-drow was. As soon as the arrow left his bow, however, he had side-stepped on the off chance that he would be hit by an attack and another arrow was nocked before the first one ever struck the steed. But before he could strike the wolves that were now reappearing, there was suddenly fire everywhere. It lit up the night, scorching the streets and the buildings in its white-hot blaze. Whitey appeared again and attacked Alex, who was immediately defended by Ithuen; she’d been just as ready as Glug had for the sudden onslaught, if not more so. With the swift-and-savage defeat of Whitey, however, came a howl of outrage from Blackie. The gray was taken down in its flight, and the Dalca Brothers had sprung into action as well, judging by the sounds of countless projectiles whipping through the air.

The cry of retreat was a command easier heard than followed. Glug put away his bow and arrow as quickly as he could and began casting the spell he needed to summon his steed. Sure enough, moments later, it seemed to leap right out of the shadows dancing upon a nearby wall. It screamed and whinnied at being so violently thrust into the midst of the fight but Glug couldn’t care less at the moment. Throwing his weight into his legs for power, he shot into the air toward his horse and caught the stirrup with his left foot; his left hand caught the saddle horn. He was mounted in an instant and swiftly gained enough control of Saul to force him into flight. He made the horse leap several werewolves and lost none of his steed’s impressive speed as he fled.

Glug knew full well he couldn’t hope to win this fight, nor could he aid his allies much. The fire didn’t seem to do much against these werewolves, and he had no silver of his own. No, it was better for him to retreat for the time being and deal with the backlash from his allies later.

OOC
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Anci
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Things had calmed down, the tension had been defused. Anci took off with relief, now she just had to find Lore. The trail wasn’t nearly as obvious as the ones other maddened Keepers had left behind, but the signs were still there. It looked like she was heading for the springs, they were isolated for the most part thankfully. Anci wasn’t calling out for her though. The last thing she wanted was for Lore to know where Anci was before she knew where the keeper was.


She dismounted off of Froggu, if either of them needed to get out of the way of Lore’s rampage they’d have an easier time apart than together. She let it wander on its own, its sense were no doubt more in tune to the environment than her own was.


Rasaki emerged and extended into a long spear with wide wings near the head. Anci wasn’t hunting boar, but she’d seen Lore like this before. Sliding down the length of a spear to gut the wielder wasn’t out of the question, that was just a normal reaction.


Lorica was hunched over the corpse of a Balefire horse, having shopped through its carapace to the flesh underneath. She was settled on her haunches, both hands buried in its steaming guts. Blood coated her lips, dribbled off her chin. Her teeth were red with it. She looked up as soon as Anci approached, eyes dancing with black spikes... but there was a flash of recognition in them. "Pack," she growled, hovering over her kill protectively.


She circled around Lore’s kill, closing the distance slowly until the dead horse was closer to her than Lore. Almost casually she smacked Lore’s hands with the flat of Rasaki. She kept the movements quick and retracted it, only poking, prodding and slapping Lore when she went for the meat or displayed resistance.


No.” She pointed back towards Nine Angels. Explosions had been ringing out in the distance. Maybe Lantos had crossed them over, maybe the Dalcas pushed it, perhaps one of the pariahs got too agitated. Either way, they were in a unique position. They could hit the wolves from an unexpected angle if Lore would listen.


Go. Pack is in trouble. Go and hunt the wolves, not the horse.


She added movement to her words, jabbing her finger towards the sounds in the distance when referring to the pack and wolves, brushing her spear between the horse and lore when telling her to leave her kill.




OOC

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Alexandra
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The force was incredible. Alex lurched to one side, and was picked up by the massive Ansgar on her own oversized horse. She felt liquid - her own blood - running down her back as she leaned hard against Ansgar's back. Then she made the deal. Alex shrieked in pain as her eye was torn from her, and her other eye was irreparably changed. She shuddered and sweated against Ansgar before leaning away from him. "Just one last thing before a nap." Alex struggled to speak. Alex blinked with her remaining eye. The orb turned silvery-blue, and leaked a fine blue mist as she moved. She hunted and searched - then saw Maksym and the rest of the group. Energy swirled around her fingertips, bringing her runes to life. They flickered, red to yellow to red until a long spear of flame swirled into existence beside her arm. She indicated skyward, and the spear rose into the sky, almost lazily before gaining speed. It changed course to head back down in a blur, accelerating the whole way towards Maksym. Alex focused - and settled on the horse and the uneven pseudo-roads of Nine Angels. An obvious hole. An horse would go around it.

She willed it to do otherwise. She wanted that horse to hit the hole. She wanted that horse to trip, fall, and force Maksym to take the bolt head-on.
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Keter
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Of course it was not safe, but then again nothing was. With the wolves running around, there was no telling how many of them were shadowdancers, themselves, nor how quickly they could track Korso. Keter could not just move through the shadows and expect nothing to happen, that all would be fine and dandy in a place where the shadows could literally be alive.

Before Korso could finish his thought or Keter could reply, the merchant was cut short by hardened darkness piercing his chest. Approaching them quickly was one of the wolves riding towards their location, doubtfully friendly and looking directly at them with darkvision. There was no time to waste-- there seemed to never e time to waste in Gloomwood-- and between Audfein's wound and the coming enemy, possibly even enemies, the Black Monkey would needed to act quicker than he could consider possibilities.

First Keter merely shifted himself and his charge to the furthest unmarked shadow he could reach, just something to get them out of the way of the coming enemies, but that hardly helped with Audfein's wound. Maybe he should have waited off on giving Audfein that potion until there was a serious wound, but he could hardly waste his thoughts on what would have been preferable.

The shop, maybe there was another health potion there. Going there might prove to be dangerous for the well-being of their store, but if he was going to keep Audfein alive then it was a risk that needed to be taken.

Keter would grab Audfein again and this time shift him into the alchemical store, a walled building that should at least slow down any pursuers while the Black Monkey rummaged around for anything that looked like a healing potion, hopefully labeled in something that at least his Shadow could read, and get it to the merchant fast.

What little medical knowledge Keter had was pretty much just how to deal with disjointed limbs and bind wounds, not deal with holes in chests.

"I wouldn't suppose you'd have anything that can help you, Korso?" Keter would ask while he looked around the shop frantically, "Or any idea where a shop like this would have something like that?"

No response. Right, it would be tricky to talk with a wound like that.
Edited by Keter, Fri Nov 4, 2016 10:24 am.
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Mobster Man
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Yurim followed Lorica to the spring, it was clean and clear... and had horses around it for just a few moments until Lorica came into the scene. Yurim got off his horse and began to slowly approach her while circling around, as Anci spoke to her.

He shook his head, "Not a good idea. We're not all considered 'pack' and her fighting like this is just gonna get her killed. You don't fight a monster with a monster, you fight it with cunning."

He remember his own friend Andrew... but many people knew him by his fake name 'Sharky' for the fact that he looked like some kinda were-shark mutant. Unfortunately his nickname was far to close for comfort, to much blood scent and he went berserk, that was why he took up crossbows, longer distance assassinations.

Yurim knelt down and looked her in the eyes, he knew how to deal with a flesh rending aggravated shark-monster, maybe Lorica would respond to the same method. He spoke softly, "Lorica, you need to stay calm. You need to come with me, I'll take you back to Castle so you can rest. You're not yourself... would you like to see Zuraw? I bet she'd like the company."

Yurim looked to Anci, "What we really need to do is retreat. It was stupid to aggravate the werewolves. Now not only are our people getting hurt, but it's likely now that the Dalca Brothers will call in favors for their 'help' in fighting the were-wolves. If anything we'll be in deeper shit than ever." He stood up and looked back from where they came, "Without silver weapons I can tell you this, I will be of no help. I am a quick knife wielder, I lack the strength and equipment to shatter bones or cut off heads, both things needed to stop werewolves when you don't have any silver."

Yurim turned to his horse, "While I would love to seriously head back to Castle, I get the feeling if I did everyone would hate me as much as they hate Keter. So I'll go back if only to get myself a bottle of were-whatever antidote." With that said he waited for them to make their decisions and went back towards the shop, he needed to procure some antidote and try to figure out a way to fight them... maybe the shopkeeper could make some poison... yes, maybe. He would need to ask her if using the antidote as an anti-were weapon was possible, if so then they might not even need silver right now, a quick substitute to dip his daggers into so he could actually do something.
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Carmen
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Carmen's brow quite nearly twitched when Kir Lantos insinuates that she has overestimated her importance. She schooled that reaction in the nick of time, but stared at him with ice in her eyes.

He, and his ilk, began to retreat, and Carmen's spirits lifted; she'd done it! She had talked the Alfha down, even after the Pariahs had stolen Korso, kept Zuraw from him, and assaulted his pack. But then everything changed. Lantos kept speaking, almost to himself, and the more he talked the more worrisome his words became. The membrane between the real world and the Ethereal wasn't quite right in this place, and to Carmen, it didn't seem quite right in Lantos, either. It was as though he had decided to withdraw, but something else drove him to reconsider; an internal monologue that was bidding him to turn and attack.

For a brief moment, Carmen wondered if Lantos was something like her; broken inside, with someone else living there - a part of her that had splintered away and created a life almost its own.

Before she could think more, whatever compelled Lantos to fight won out and the streets erupted into violence and chaos. The Pariahs ran for the Castle, fighting as they fled. The wolves gave chase en masse. As what had been a calm moment gave way to raucous bedlam and her companions took flight, Carmen stood her ground.

She dismounted, slapped her horse's haunch to send it running, and stared at Kir Lantos with peculiar serenity. More slavering werewolves charged at her, and as they lunged they crashed into a wall of force that clung to Carmen's skin. They were flung back, but undeterred, each tried and tried again, swiping and clawing, pouncing and biting, each attempt as unsuccessful as the last, each attack batted away by the field of magic that protected her.

"We will meet again, Kir Lantos," Carmen said, watching him, keeping her eyes on his. "Although next time, I fear our encounter may not be quite as civil."

She lifted her violin, put the bow to the strings, and spoke the words to transform herself into Inferna. Just as the conversion began, Carmen teleported away, reappearing alone in the back of the alchemy shop. In a blazing vortex, Inferna was reawakened, and an instant later, in a fiery implosion, she too vanished, just before Keter appeared. Seconds later, Inferna emerged from the burning hearth in Carmen's bedroom at the pinnacle of their Castle stronghold.

OOC

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Lorica
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Her mind and body were wracked with hunger. It felt like it had been days since she’d eaten. It was a redirection of the corruption’s insatiable need for bloodshed, all she could offer to her allies. Instead of tearing them to pieces she focused all of her rage and violence on the hunt. She hurtled through the Dark District, slavering, mad with yearning.

She made a beeline for the first horse she saw, bodily slamming into its side. It was pathetic, worthless, prey. The animal bleated as she carved into its carapace, warm blood cascading over her, steaming in the cold air. She gripped its throat in her free hand, muscles bulging. She slammed it into the ground with enough force to shatter its neck. Its eyes rolled, neighing desperately, but with its spine broken the animal could only watch as she began to feast on its flesh, alive and baying even as she sank her teeth into its meat.

The hunger was never sated, never satisfied, always clamoring for more. She was halfway through her feast when an intruder approached. She tensed, hissing a warning, looming over her kill. Only when the trespasser drew closer did she recognize them: (friendallyloverbraidsanci). Her lizard brain couldn’t process the stream of information, couldn’t make sense of the words. It substituted them for a concept it could understand: pack-mate. An ally too competent to kill, for now.

Still, this was her kill. She was the alpha. She did not share; her pack would have to fend for themselves, to prove themselves worthy of her leadership, her protection. Lorica bared her teeth in a threat display, settling her weight over her half-eaten meal.

Lorica's companion did not try to steal her prize, and that was the only reason she did not rip out their throat, the only reason she didn’t bathe in their warm, sweet blood. Their words were meaningless noise, but she gleaned the barest hint of their intentions. Their territory was endangered, threatened by interlopers.

Her territory.

She reluctantly left her meal behind. Other predators would doubtlessly steal it, scavengers swooping in to claim what was hers… but she was strong. She could hunt more, kill more, gorge herself on a mountain of corpses. She could not tolerate such disrespect from another pack. Another member of her group approached (thiefsweettoothyurim), his body language suggesting disagreement. She snarled at him, swiping a blade in his direction. The decision was hers. She would protect their territory. If he tried to stop her she would cull him to strengthen her band. They lived or died by her word, by her mercy.

She followed her pack-mate to a nearby vantage point, a high spot amongst the ruins of the dark district, further back from the front lines. The trespassers were clumsy, obvious. Their bodies glowed with signals, flashing, broadcasting their location for all to see. So arrogant. It made it easy to differentiate friend from foe, pack from threat. Lorica hunched down, watching the battle progress, eyes squirming with darkness. “Mine,” she hissed, mana vapor streaming between her parted lips. “Die die die, diediedie!

She rose her hands, fingers twisted into claws. She let the power of the Wellspring flow through her, a conduit for its corruption. The effect on the landscape was obvious. The group of werewolves hunting Czajka and Ithuen suddenly found themselves surrounded by a copse of stubby, thick-barked trees, their boughs gnarled like cudgels. The plants bent and swung at the lycanthropes, beating at them from every direction. Another werewolf prowling through a thick patch of darkplants didn’t notice when thick, diseased galls swelled amongst the flora. They exploded into splinters meant to shred its flesh, transforming the area into a nightmare of wooden shrapnel.

Lorica laughed at the madness, the chaos, the power. She reached deep down into the earth, feeding strength to the plants that grew throughout the Dark District, bolstering them even as she twisted their purpose for her own ends. Brambles thrust out of the ground, growing into a thicket a hundred feet across, a curved wall that separated as much of her pack from the werewolves as possible. She let out a scream of effort as she willed it forward, a wave of vegetation that crawled across the landscape, slowly but steadily picking up speed. The dilapidated or abandoned structures provided little resistance against the tangled plants. Neither would flesh or bone.

She slumped, drained. “Mine,” she whispered as the corruption retreated, leaving her back in control of her body. She ached from her head to her toes. The thought of tapping even an iota of magical power from the font made her want to vomit.

The Keeper slumped against Anci. “Let’s… Let’s get out of here, Braids. I did all I can. They… They’re on their own now. We need to hide, maybe with Drote. At least until this all dies down.” If they could make it back without detection, the two of them would make their way to one of the hidden entrances to the subterranean water system, only returning to the Castle after the danger of being pursued had passed.

OOC
Edited by Lorica, Fri Nov 4, 2016 5:12 pm.
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Tanya
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Madame Tanya ducked and twisted, dodging as much of the swarm of arrows as she could. The few she couldn't dodge she let strike her in the chest: the plants that made up her body were resilient, fast-healing, and immune to pain. Caedis and Caelum weren't so lucky. The barrage left them both severely wounded, and Caedis was barely able to maintain control of the horses.

Tanya looked across at Ithuen and Czajka. They were both swarmed with werewolves. She took the reins to her horse and spoke briefly to her employees. "Get on your horses and get away. Don't go back to the Castle until you're sure no one's following you."

"But Madame Tanya-"

"Hates the thought of dying. She'll manage," Caedis interrupted. Tanya noted the clarity of his speech. "Let's go."

The two of them mounted their horses and bolted. Caelum's horse blasted anyone who got too close with freezing mists. Tanya bought them a few seconds, lashing out at their pursuers with her hands and feet until they had a little distance. She then mounted her horse, wincing as a werewolf snapped at its leg and the wound transferred to her, and rode at top speed for Ithuen and Czajka.

She turned her horse's head and rode alongside them for a few seconds before flipping backwards off her horse. It continued running, ignoring the sudden absence of weight on its back. She landed in a crouch and lashed out at a nearby werewolf with her foot. Her horse continued on ahead of her, forcing any werewolves to either jump aside or attack it to avoid a collision. She hoped they chose the latter. It was far enough ahead now that any wounds it took would be transferred to the werewolves, and judging by Grey's fate, werewolves' regenerative abilities were outmatched by their claws and fangs.

She focused her attacks on the mounted wolves' horses. They seemed like the biggest threat, and the horses were the easiest target to attack while running full-tilt alongside the galloping horse that carried Czajka and Ithuen. She felt another surge of gratitude for the stamina her blood grafts gave her. She'd never have been able to keep this pace for more than a few seconds without it. As it was, all she had to worry about was being torn apart by a pack of ravenous wolves.

She spotted Black among the wolves and narrowed her eyes. "I made a mistake healing you. But it's nothing on the mistake you made by not taking your chance to run." She continued speaking, though the words were no longer comprehensible. They were an incantation, one that she hadn't had need to cast for many years. Still running, she stuck her hand out behind her and spoke the last word, releasing the spell. A small explosion of unholy energy appeared briefly around Black's front leg before diving into it. The abyssal parasites would go to work immediately, painfully seizing control of the wolf's limb.
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Tian
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Not surprised.

It was a kind of second sight, really, the way that he leaned to the left just as a beclawed hand sailed through the space he had occupied. He was bleeding, and it would wear him down very quickly, but the moment he was alive and that was all that mattered. Blessedly, the flames that the fire-witch was bringing about created lots of shadows, but he wasn't using them for the moment. His knives were in hand now, and now he was not playing at all. He attempted a stop-thrust with one of the long knives, sliding away from his opponent as he did.

There was too many to face directly, and Tian found himself hell bent to make any headway at all. The screams he could hear, in his head, all belonged to the Pariahs. They belonged to the weak, and he was not one of those. Oh, well, compared to these horrors he was...but of heart? Never.

He slid around a werewolf that rushed at him, expertly dodging aside and attempting to deliver a vicious slash in passing. The attack was not really intended to do much beyond cause an inconvenience, really. These beasts were on a whole different level than he and his companions, if they could be called as such, and all there was was to survive. Any hope of delivering a crippling blow was shattered, even if it had a snowball's chance in hell to begin with. You flea-bitten nag, rotten son of a bitch, get over here now he growled. The words did not travel far before vanishing; flitting, shadowy creatures taking wing and heading to the Castle. That fiery eyed stallion of his was of course there, although whether it would come at all or not was questionable. They got along like a house on fire, and the only consolation was that so did anyone else in regards to his horse.

He didn't like horses.

He didn't like werewolves much better.

In fact...Tian was angry. Extremely angry, and it had been a long time since he had felt this level of primal rage sweep through his ravaged flesh. It was almost like power, surging through his veins (and consequently out onto the ground).

He was dimly aware of the others. Enough! he growled, and power took shape. A wave of raw force spread from him like ripples in a pond, washing over those nearest to him. And then he was moving, fighting his way through hordes of wolves. In fact, he practically flowed forward, expertly contorting his body to avoid most of the attacks, delivering slices and cuts with surgical precision as he passed. There were far too many of them for him to deal with every one of them but, for a time, he laid about with absolute ruthlessness at any object that cae to close. He could feel the drain on his bodies reserves, quickly piling up to something unmanageable. But it was unimportant. He had to extricate himself and, in so doing, do as much damage as he possibly could.

Even before he made it through the press, he could hear the scream of Sonofabitch as he appeared in a dark street ahead, and he had to groan inwardly as, trailing more wounds than he had a right to survive, he made his way to the mount, deftly avoiding getting his face bitten off in the process. Had enough teeth today, you bastard, he said, not too unkindly.

[/color]
OOC
Edited by Tian, Fri Nov 4, 2016 9:00 pm.
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Storyteller[ST]
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Glug and Alexandra

Glug, you react quickly and shoot an arrow at Kir Lantos' horse. Just as the nock leaves the string, one of Kir's bodyguards veers in the way. Your arrow plunges into the undesired horse's flank; it panics, but the rider manages to calm it before it flies out of control. The werewolf alfha glances in your direction, Glug, shakes his head with a thin smile, then continues leaving.

Alexandra, you make your move, and quite a move it is. While prepping your spell, the force of your mind attempts to create a ripple in the unknowable Ethereal Plane. A tiny edge that could decide the difference between the success and failure of your last-ditch attack. To what perhaps might be your shock, the horse's behavior does change; it has a fit. The horse stomps its hooves, throws its head and even tries to rear up. Kir and his bodyguards, who've been close to Maksym, leave him behind to get his horse under control. Once Kir is about thirty feet away from Maksym, the horse charges forward and, in its panic, trips and falls in the hole in the road.

The explosion is humongous, but it's just not large enough to hurt Kir at this distance. However, Maksym is at the center of the carnage. Alex, your consciousness is beginning to fade, but you try to see what the effect was on your target. The horse and all of Maksym's middlemen are definitely dead. In the smoke and heated air, you see the crusty old werewolf rising up. His fur has been burned off, leaving horrid burns and revealing his demonic-looking, skeletal frame peppered with bioluminescence. One of his legs is broken, crushed by his own horse. Kir and his retinue rush back to rescue him, then press the retreat at an even faster clip.


Keter and Yurim

Keter, you rush Korso to the Main Street Apothecary and frantically search around for something that could help Korso's wound. You ask him for advice, and his head lolls toward you. His reply comes slowly. "Right, yes... get some, ah, something to stop the bleeding. Look for a jar of whitish paste, liquid bandages." The merchant coughs, then recoils from the pain of moving. "And p-potions."

Yurim, that is when you arrive at the shop. The shopkeeper Farethi is not here at the moment; it's just Keter and a very unlucky-looking Aufdein Korso. It doesn't take long for the two of you to find the right stuff and administer it to Korso. After that, you grab some Bright Creeper Root just in case, Yurim. You have no idea how virulent those wolves are.



Everyone

No matter who you are, you have managed to escape this nasty situation through your own methods. Ithuen and Czajka made it through in good condition, as well. Ansgar is alive on top of all that.

With all your efforts combined, you've made quite the stir in Nine Angels. From a quick visual assessment, you find that the Pariahs...

  • Inflicted extensive devastation to a small section of Nine Angels' Light District. Many people were witness to your strength and will see the aftermath.
  • Inflicted minor fatalities on the Wolves of Lantos. Their numbers will be slightly smaller next time you come to blows.
  • Inflicted massive injuries on the Wolves of Lantos. You proved to them that the Wine River Pariahs are not pushovers. You suspect they will take you more seriously from now on.
  • Inflicted heavy but non-fatal damage on Maksym. You disfigured him with third-degree burns and destroyed all of the middlemen he had with him. You are not sure what kind of effect this will have later.
  • Inflicted no damage on Kir Lantos himself.


You expect that this single bout will make you extremely notorious in a small amount of time. It is almost a guarantee at this point. There are certain things that you won't be able to do quietly anymore. Will you adapt?

In the meantime, all of you are likely spread out after that situation. Some of you are in the shop, some are in other parts of the town, and some are in the Castle already. If you aren't at the Castle yet, you lay low until the heat dies down. Takes a few hours. Once you're absolutely sure you're not being followed or watched, you make it back to the Castle at different times.

Some are nursing their wounds in the common room. Some might be in their rooms, or on the grounds tending their horses. It's inescapable, Pariahs: both Czajka and Ithuen are here, in your home base. They followed Ansgar and an unconscious Alexandra. They had nowhere else to go, and Czajka hadn't been willing to let you guys run off without her.

Keter and Yurim have Korso here, too. The merchant is laying down on a bedroll in the common room, recovering from his numerous injuries. Their quick treatment has stabilized his condition, at least. He's awake, alert, and friendly. "Thank you so much for coming to my aid," he tells you as soon as you approach him for the first time, no matter who you are.

Ithuen has been strangely thoughtful ever since Czajka practically shoved her flask down the wood elf's throat. Keeps looking around the interior of the Castle, pondering. "You guys picked a good hideout," is all she says. "Gods, don't look at me like you screwed the pooch. I won't tell anyone. You too, Czajka, right?"

"Yeah." The bounty hunter seems a little shaken up. Stressed out, quieter than usual.

Now you're all here. You've all received medical care and are conscious, or able to be roused to consciousness. Ithuen goes and collects everyone, gathering you all into the common room of the Castle. As soon as you're all settled in, there's a knock on the door with impeccable timing.

"We came alone." The voice is muffled, but it's unmistakably that of Viktor Dalca.

"I'm sorry," Yevhen adds. "I-- I already knew this was your secret hideout..."

Ithuen crosses her arms, grumbling. "Those deadbeat [removed]ing hoons always appearing where they shouldn't. Let them in." Ansgar does the honors. Opening the door reveals torrential snow outside: big, fluffy wet flakes. The two brothers step in, soaked to the bone. Yevhen is sporting a nasty gash on his arm and hip, but Viktor is unharmed.

"Looks like the whole merry bunch is here," Viktor says, looking around. His smile is a sliver of teeth, cautious. He looks at you a bit differently now compared to the time at the barge. When his eyes fall on Ithuen, he touches the brim of his hat; she returns the greeting with a tense nod. A nonverbal, temporary truce.

An awkward silence lingers in the air. Surprisingly, it's Czajka who's the first to speak. "I think we all in this room are the only ones gonna stand against Nine Angels getting destroyed."

"What?" Viktor says, making Yevhen shrink into the background more. "Destroyed? Did I miss something?"

The half-demon just shrugs and continues her thought. "Things are about to change. A lot. So I guess it was good a time as any to get pegged for some criminal-lover by a Clerk." Czajka takes off her flatbrim and runs her fingers through her wet hair. "Time for me to stop screwing around with bounties and go full-time on this. Shit's flowing downstream -- pardon my language. I want to help." (Czajka [Ambitious] has joined your posse.)

"Hold on, that hoon blaspheme's got a point," Ithuen says. "Could someone please explain what's going on? Yeah sure Nine Angels is gonna get messed up, but destroyed?"


OOC
 
New Discussion Cutoff

I hope you guys don't mind my constant experimentation, but I'd like to try something new this round. Everyone is in one place, and I expect a lot of talking to be happening. What makes me feel bad is when people are essentially forced to hold off on posting until the last day because of heavy dialogue via Discussion. So let's try something a little different to hopefully alleviate that pressure: a new Discussion cutoff to go with the pre-existing ST post cutoff.

The next cutoff to make a post in this topic is four days from now, on Tuesday, November 8 (whoops) at 3:00pm Mountain time. However, you only have 2 days to post in Discussion interacting with NPCs. So that means that you have until the evening on Sunday, November 6 to talk to NPCs rapidly.

To counterbalance this limited time to interact, ST will break their old rule and respond to people more than once per day. Just please post in Discussion in moderation; if you spam it, ST will only respond to you once per day.

This way, you have anytime in those last 2 days to post in the topic proper.

Let me know how this new system works, whether you like it or don't like it. Who knows, maybe I'm trying to fix something that ain't broke? If this works I might adopt it again or tweak it in the future for any other dialogue-heavy rounds like this.


Other News

A breather round is on the horizon.

Additional event assets are coming soon, possibly in the middle of this round. Please follow this round's Discussion, since a decision might be involved and it might take place mid-round.



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Glug Photall
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Glug had been out in the cold before. He had survived on his own in the wilderness as barely more than a child because of not only his natural cleverness as a goblin, but also a level of intelligence that most goblins simply didn’t have. Come to think of it, he’d always wondered if he was a pure-blood goblin because of his intellectual capacity, but that never seemed to have been a problem for those that had become residents of Glughob. Regardless, it was by watching others in secret and copying them until he perfected whatever it was he was trying to learn that he had survived - and even thrived - for so long. He had made himself a veritable ghost - silent, invisible, forgotten…not even a memory in the minds of the men from whom he’d escaped. By the time he’d grown fully into adulthood, he’d become a skilled hunter and a masterful archer. Not only that, but he knew the wilderness far better than anyone else as a result. It was a different kind of danger, but one that he knew just as well as the goblin cities to which he eventually returned from time to time.

So hiding his steed in safety, and then himself, was no problem at all. He used the shadows to his advantage, disappearing, leaving no trace of his presence or that of his horse that could be followed. It was very early in the morning when he reached the Castle, perhaps a couple of hours before what would have been dawn elsewhere; here, though, dawn would never come - one of the many things he liked about this area. He didn’t have to bother trying to adjust his eyes to the light of the sun. He was simply more comfortable in darkness, being what he was. He summoned his horse as soon as he was certain it was safe. Once he’d calmed the beast, he unloaded it of its burdens and cared for it as best he could. Once it was wearing a feedbag and eying him beadily as it ate, Glug finally made his way up a wall and through a high window into one of the rooms. He stayed there in the shadows, getting some not-entirely-restful sleep before he had to deal with the others.

When he awakened again, he checked on Saul. He removed the feedbag before heading to the Pariahs’ usual meeting place. Ithuen, of course, didn’t have any idea what was really going on. Czajka said she’d explain it to her later. He wasn’t entirely pleased to see the Dalcas present, but they needed all the help they could get right now - and the Dalcas had helped to facilitate the Pariahs’ escape from that nasty situation. Glug dusted the snow off of his flatbrim and plopped it back onto his head. Then he lit up a cigar and pulled his cloak a bit tighter around him.

“First thing’s first,” Glug said when there was a pause in the opening of the conversation. “Silver. Lots of it. I, for one, can’t do much with regular arrows. I need silver heads. Ithuen has silver-edged axes but that’s only one of us, and not all of us are familiar enough with that particular type of weapon to wield it properly. So it’s not just me. Fire doesn’t seem to do much against the werewolves, regardless of how well it works against ordinary wolves. There’s always magic, of course, but that only works so far - which brings me to my next point, by the way. I didn’t see who it was, so I have a question: what idiot’s brilliant idea was it to alert the whole city to our presence? We’re lucky it’s only Lantos and his gang who showed up.”

Yurim mentioned the Gentlemen as potential allies, and Glug nodded.

“The more allies we have, the better.”

Victor Dalca grew angry with Glug’s mention of needing a lot of silver, but the statement had been meant in general, not for the Dalcas specifically. But he soon had his explanation, and then it came out that his brother had evoked a prophecy to Czajka. But it was Tian who mentioned something that had occurred to Glug. He just hadn’t said aloud. He nodded now.

“Yeah. Seems like one abyss of a coincidence to me as well. But we seem to have a lot of other things on our plate at the moment.”


There was brief discussion of a prophecy in which Nine Angels would be destroyed after a scorchliner was run through it, and if Lantos had indeed won the bid, that looked like it might happen now. Korso himself seemed not to be entirely confident that it would happen, and he wasn’t the only one. Personally, Glug couldn’t care less about this place. But he did care about Lantos, and it seemed nigh impossible to discredit him now. He already had what he wanted; it was just a matter of doing it. And as for the people of Nine Angels, there wasn’t enough time to rile them all up against Lantos, which might have made discrediting him at least somewhat feasible. No, they were going to have to strike Lantos and his pack themselves - and that required silver.

“Doesn’t change what we need,” Glug said aloud. “Silver’s the only thing what seems to affect these over-sized excuses for rabbit-chasers. Viktor, your gang seems to have a steady supply of silver. Is there enough to go around?”

Yevhen jumped in before Viktor could do more than open his mouth.

"We have some silver, but we can't afford to give it away for free. For now, what if we had an alliance? We'll help you out with some guys who know their way around silver weapons, and in return you let us have access to your clean water? Does that sound okay, all of you?"

The goblin nodded his assent, hoping the others would do the same.

“Sounds like a fair enough trade to me.”

It was a short span of time after the Pariahs’ planning session had come to an end that Glug pulled Czajka aside.

“As I understand it,” he began, “you have some rather intimate knowledge of the Ethereal Plane.”

He popped the muscles in his neck, obviously somewhat uncomfortable about sharing what he was about to share.

“Fact is, I know others have been making deals left and right. Made one myself…didn’t want to, but I didn’t have any options at the time. Had some bounty hunters on my adorable green ass and couldn’t figure a way out of it. Point is…”

He chewed on his cigar for a moment, the look on his face seemingly of mingled distaste and disgust.

“Fact is, I’m curious about this Ethereal,” he finished. “Was wondering if you could tell me everything you know about it.”

"I'm sorry?"

Czajka briefly stuck her pinky finger into the ear that wasn't frostbit, twisting it.

"Everything? I can't tell if you're playing at me knowing a lot or a little. I ain't some storybook character gonna just spout important stuff. Man...where would I even start? You got, like, a particular question or something?"


Glug realized at once that he was an idiot, though he said nothing. He simply thought for a moment, chewing his cigar.

“How dangerous is the Ethereal, actually? What’s the limit? I mean…what does it really cost?”

What he really wanted to know was whether he was going to have trouble if he had to make another deal or because of the deal he’d already made. But sometimes, Glug wasn’t all that great at putting his thoughts into words, especially when he was uncomfortable with something - such as sharing anything about him personally, for example. He could get himself into and out of some interesting situations, but he was no diplomat - not by a long shot.

"The Shadow lures in people who're desperate, risk-takers, or like a quick fix. The limit is... I don't really know. Because it's got everything. It's got information, it's like dissolved in fate and probability and things you can't touch like voices, emotions, coldness, language, dreams, goals, all sorts of things. And it can swap things out. So it's like this giant... catalogue, almost. Or this giant archive of things that float in and out of the forefront. That's what it feels like, at least. So the Shadow Plane isn't just darkness, it's something you can't even describe because it's all these things you can or can't imagine that you can't even touch with your hands, and even then there are exceptions. Gosh, I'm rambling, I'm sorry Glug.

"As far as costs go, that's up to you. I don't think it'll ever try to take more than you negotiated for, but it will give you more than you want if you get too close to it. Some people get really obsessed with those 'gifts.' They're not gifts. They're not even good. Just look at me."


Glug nodded slowly, considering what she was saying. So perhaps making a couple of deals with the Ethereal Plane wasn’t entirely out of the question. But how much would be asked? Glug had no guide for what one thing or another would cost him, no frame of reference. This was no barrel of spears or bundle of chickens; this was life, death, and everything in-between. It sounded to Glug as though the Ethereal was the ultimate middleman, dealing in things you might or might not want for prices you might or might not be willing to pay. He scratched his chin, not sure what to say next. Shrugging his cloak back around his shoulders, hiding the vast majority of his body once more, he thanked Czajka for the information.

Then he moved away to consider his own options and what had been planned during the main meeting.

OOC
Edited by Glug Photall, Mon Nov 7, 2016 5:19 pm.
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Keter
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It seemed Audfein had enough energy to give Keter an idea of what he was looking for. None of the Black Monkey incarnations had even come close to a life near alchemy, so looking for a specific vial or jar of anything without a clue of what to look for beyond some obvious label was out of the question, but white paste was definitely something he could hunt for. During the semi-frantic search for alchemical first aid, the thief shadowdancer entered the shop with perfect timing to help Keter save Audfein's life.

"White paste and healing potions, help me find them!" Keter said to the thief, keeping his voice level as he searched hurriedly through the supplies of the store, "No time to waste."

Fortunately the combined efforts of the two Shadowdancers resulted in the merchant's life being saved from the injuries, but lycanthropic infection remained to be seen.




When Audfein was well enough to move, Keter saw no reason to waste time. Thanks to the abilities of Shadowdancing, they would be able to simply step through the darkness to the Castle in a single bound, and even with the locals being native or even infected with shadows, it seemed unlikely that they could follow them easily if they shadowshifted by way of their markings. Getting Audfein back for proper treatment was easy.

That large cat that Keter had taken in was waiting at the Castle, apparently claiming the building as its home, even if only temporary. The Black Monkey could not fault the creature for fleeing that chaotic scene, he was not exactly keen on so many unknown variables at play, and the mess of a situation had nearly claimed the life of Korso while they were hiding from the worst of it out of sight.

While the rest mingled and planned, trying to get the best grasp on the situation that they could, Keter instead opted to keep watch over their surroundings, lest any wolves decide to start lurking around their dark little corner of Nine Angels. His eyes pierced easily through the darkness of Gloomwood, his steps silent as he patrolled alone, his shadow left at the Castle to observe and relay how things went, though Keter knew its main focus was its once-friend that it requested its host help save. It was fine, separated like that gave the Black Monkey some time to collect his thoughts without having to share them through the direct bond that they when that Shade was just a Shadow.

From what was being relayed, it seemed that Keter was right to take to the streets and make sure they were clean of the local stray mongrels, things were tense enough without him being present. On the plus side it did seem like they were finally beginning to realize that the timing of their mission was suspicious, finally catching up to the suspicions he had from far earlier on.

Potent and volatile. The Pariahs made the Black Monkey long for the simpler days of Surya, where it was merely a large group of tough men and women, almost akin to family, against a singular hostile group, where the shadows were their allies and the enemies were simple to understand. In Gloomwood they were constantly surrounded, constantly needing to watch all corners both lit and dark, to keep ears focused to the distance for any slight crackling or whispers, to keep their secrets closely guarded lest some invisible force leak it out to whoever gave an arm or a leg, whether their own or not. The rules to Gloomwood were so simple, yet so complicated at the same time, it made it difficult for Keter to decide his feelings on it. All he knew was that at best the ones he could see himself relying on at all were seasoned criminals, people who should be smart enough to not trust anybody from the very beginning.

There was a glimpse of that past in the bounty hunter, but Keter did not put much stock into it. Stand up to the big bads, organize a worthwhile and stable group that could unite calmly behind a singular cause, then rise up beneath the feet of the enemy to topple them over.

Keter kept watch around the Castle's area, keeping an eye out for the threats that he knew had to be lurking. Hopefully even if they figured out where the Pariahs were hiding, they would hold back until they got proper information, rather than charging into the darkness blindly. It would give the flimsy group of criminals time to ready themselves.
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