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Cairns on the Wine River [FIN]; [ST05][Signups Closed]
Topic Started: Sat Sep 17, 2016 1:22 pm (8,263 Views)
Inferna
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Carmen had Korso help her into a chair. She rubbed her bleary eyes with her wrists and slapped herself across the face to force herself alert, if only for a few moments. She lifted the parchment and communiquill and scrawled out a message, her penmanship missing its usual elegance.

Riot at apothecary.
Amitiel, deputies, 4 werewolves.
Korso and Farethi with me at Castle
Ansgar, Alex and Caedis still there.
Rjinders moving toward manor.
Czajka whereabouts unknown.
Castle is safe. For now.
~ Carmen


The quill tumbled from her grip. Carmen waved Korso close. "My violin. Please," she whispered, and waited for him to retrieve it for her. "Thank you," she said, once he had.

"Once Ithuen gets here, I have to go back. Ansgar needs help."



With impeccable timing, there was a hammering knock against the door. Ithuen Bearkiller stepped through without asking if she could come in, out of breath. When she took her hat off, her hair was soaked with sweat. She didn't look physically harmed, just shaken and dazed.

"I'm alright, I'm alright," she said. "You go on with the job. I'm gonna see if I can't commandeer a last-minute escape in case shit flows downstream. I'll keep one eye on the 'quill."



Carmen eyed Ithuen wearily as she pushed herself to her feet.

"Keep Korso safe," she said.

There were many questions she wanted to ask. Aufdein had wings, or something similar hiding beneath his robes. Ithuen had been engaged in something, undoubtedly nefarious, before arriving. Farethi had bolted like a rat exposed to the light. Each felt like it might be important and worthy of her investigation, and while her curiosity almost always got the better of her, this time Carmen had to keep it in check.

That was when she felt the pull and heard the whisper of the Ethereal, beckoning to her, offering the answers she sought. Carmen pushed it away without a reply. Answering, even with a forceful 'no', was opening her mind to that plane more than she felt comfortable.

"I'm going back," she said, stumbling toward her portal and waving it open. "Stay here."

She stepped through, back into the shop's back room. The bedlam could still be heard in the front and the street beyond. Carmen took that as a good sign; the rioters hadn't been crushed while she was gone.

She lifted the bow to her violin's strings.

I won't save him, Inferna whispered.

"Yes. You will," Carmen replied assuredly.

What makes you so sure?

"I am a Castile," she said with authority. "And I am not asking you to save him. I'm telling you to."

Inferna smirked with satisfaction.

Carmen played a single, sorrowful note. "Where there's smoke, there's fire."

A jet of flame shot from the tip of the bow and coiled, wrapping itself around Carmen. The jet grew, spinning her around like a top, faster and faster, enveloping her in a cyclone of fire. She felt her feet leave the floor, the tempest lifting her into the air as she twirled. The heat burned her clothes and her hair to ash, leaving her naked, but wreathed in an inferno with streams of red and orange, blue and white. The fire grew closer to her skin, coiling tightly to her body until it settled to form new clothing and armor, boots and weapons. Her pale skin freckled, her eyes took on an orange hue, and her head erupted with tongues of flame where her hair ought to be.

Cinder squealed as the powerful winds pulled him from Carmen's shoulders. A gout of flame shot him in the chest, and his tiny body swelled dramatically as he spun out the door and into the road. In the blink of an eye he was the size of a dire wolf, snarling with sabered teeth, his enormous claws digging deep into the cobblestones.

Inferna burst out of the back room and leapt through the shpt window, balling herself as her body shattered the pane of glass. She landed on Cinder's back and held on with one hand as the other wove a summoning incantation.

"Let's see you fight your way through these," she hissed as her spell finished.

The road in front of the riot golem boiled and from the bubbling magma arose two massive fire elementals with obsidian armor plates and flames spewing between. Their molten eyes flicked to Inferna for direction.

"Protect him!" she shouted, pointing at Ansgar. "From them!" Her finger swung to Amitiel, the werewolves, and the deputies.

OOC

Edited by Inferna, Thu Nov 24, 2016 10:44 pm.
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Alexandra
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Things fall apart. Alex watched as Apple tore herself free and the golem ripped into her allies. But she didn't wait. Her eye shut and reopened as a dark blue orb, trailing silvery blue mist. She glanced through Amitiel's inner workings. She formed the first spell as quick as her hands could form the symbols required, and with an arcane bark the spell leaped down her outstretched finger - and straight into Amitiel's optical connection. As long as the golem didn't move. She flicked her hand and a javelin arced into the golem with hopes of striking her leg and damaging it. She handed the 'projector' over to a nearby rioter.

"Use this projector. Load the nails into it to power it, and take out that golem, just don't get too close!" Alex took a step backwards and looked at Apple. Go find a willing healer, girl. I know you can do it. Then she made the deal. A swarm of tiny, creeping senka overtook her, but she stood as though she didn't feel pain, straight in Amitiel's way. She was already working through another spell. "You leave now golem, and I won't rip that core of yours open and find your runic address. Then I'll [removed] you over. I'll ruin your goddamn existence. You want to be chained to the inside of a steel box for eternity, Amitiel?" Her outstretched hand dripped blood as the beasts swarmed over it. Her eye was the sole place they didn't coat.




Mira's run through the forest was not a quick one. She arrived at the edge of the manor and hunkered down for a moment to observe, then rushed out from the treeline.

"Scumbag! Lace your boots up straight, don't change from over-under to under-over!" Mira shouted. She raised her free arm and launched the peacekeeper hull's net at close range - close enough even she couldn't miss - and then delivered a shield bash. She kept her shield raised from then on, ready to exploit the moment Rijinders made a mistake.

[OOC:Anti-material strike spell used, modified by infernos whatsit

You create a tiny mote of hyper-pressurized, magical fire. After at least short charging period, the mote bursts into a very thin (about the width of a string) beam of fire. While only lasting a second, this fire moves at such great speeds that it is capable of gouging or punching holes into many solid materials. Charging the spell for longer periods will increase the range of the Anti-Material Strike.

Alex has master concentration. Who gives a [removed] about being eaten, anyway?]
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Anci
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She could see the light show storming through the Dark district. That was something in their advantage at least. There wasn’t much time but Anci spent it jotting down information she had picked up for the others with the parchment.

Code:
 

rijinder deputies amitiel wolves the shop
riot the shop
carmen farethi korso castle
ansgar hurt
alex caedis help ansgar


They were down more people than Anci had been planning on being here. She doubted they could handle more things going wrong. The odds needed to be tipped in their favor, if they could deal with Rijinder quickly there was a slim chance they could keep the momentum going and turn the riot around. The fact that she opened her mind to the ethereal underscored how much doubt she had in their success.

It came through though with something they could use.

The light was oncoming, hot on the trails of the other Pariahs.

Code:
 

rijinder hate torsten dalca girl werewolf
almost kill rijinder
let rijinder live to speak story


She put away the parchment. Anci needed to keep her attention on what was going on there, not across the city. She held her place still, waiting for Rijinder to keep advancing and trigger the trap. If another Pariah made a push or the Sheriff laid into them, Anci was ready to be the first to back them up with Rasaki and her summons.
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Lorica
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Something was wrong. She could feel it in her bones. They should have been here by now. Eventually she abandoned her ambush spot in the copse, heading back to the manor. She crowded near the communi-quill parchment, looking for any update from the other Pariahs. Sure enough, a pair of messages came across the magical communication device, one after the other. Yurim and Carmen filled them in on the situation in terse snippets.

Lorica barely waited long enough to finish reading the scrawl before she was moving, running in the direction of the Light District. “Someone tell the Paladins and Dalcas to keep an eye on reinforcements along the route!”

They’d drawn out several different paths to lead Rijinders to the manor, but only one of them made sense if they were starting from the Main Street Apothecary. She started to follow it in the opposite direction, tossing her teleportation dagger into the frozen turf so that she could blink back in an instant. Her outline flickered and shimmered as she ran. I need to be unseen! Her crypsis was reliant on plant life and less effective when she was in motion.

Slivers of freezing cold pierced her spine in a dozen places, seeping through her body until her entire skeleton felt like ice. The Ethereal brushed her cheek with its frigid fingers, the otherworldly caress raising goosebumps across her skin.

Then she disappeared from sight. It was like running through a blizzard completely naked, but it was more than mere camouflage: this was invisibility. It didn’t even feel like the other plane was demanding a price from her. A combination of sheer willpower, desperation, and harmonization had somehow allowed her to partially slip into the Ethereal, masking her from sight.

The Keeper didn’t slow down and consider her good fortune. When she caught sight of Rijinders and their shadow dancers she froze, letting them pass by her while she was invisible. She planned on attacking Rijinders at first, but quickly realized that would be a terrible decision. He was muttering to himself, undoubtedly giving orders to his men.

A metamana? Shit. Not only was his method of communication far more efficient than their own, but it would allow him to continually direct reinforcements. More deputies would be incoming. If they didn’t act quickly, they’d be overwhelmed. Lorica bit back a snarl and turned her back on the Shadow-Killer and her allies. For now, they were on their own.

Continuing to backtrack, it didn’t take long to find ‘Group Two.’ The deputies were hurrying along the same route, clearly aiming to provide support for their superior. Lorica laid in wait, unseen, watching. It was a dangerous-looking ground of individuals, their reputation well-deserved. She didn’t like her odds of tangling with them by herself. Still…

Lorica waited until the last one passed to strike. She slithered forward, the cold surrounding her intensifying in the moments before she struck, momentarily flashing visible. She aimed to slit his throat to the spine with one blade, the other one neatly slicing off the ear with the metamana. If she managed to take the communication device she’d slide back into the shadows, disappearing once more into the loving embrace of the Ethereal, backing far enough away that she would be difficult to overhear.

“Hey there Sunshine,” she breathed, her tone sultry. “Sure are some nice looking men you have here. Would be a shame if something happened to them. How many can I kill?” Lorica paused, thoughtful. “Three? Seven? Eleven? Thirteen? Seventeen?”

She kept counting up by prime numbers until the metamana screeched and stopped working. Lorica flinched and pulled out the earpiece, throwing it aside. Ah, it was a shitty idea anyway. It might put the Sheriff off-guard… but it had also undoubtedly alerted the rest of the deputies as to her presence, even if they hadn’t noticed her attack on the first of their number. Now, though…

Lorica’s wide grin was unseen. I’m tired of holding back. She only had three knives. She was outnumbered. She had no idea if the Paladins or Dalca crew would be along in time to assist her, or if any of the other Pariahs would even realize what she was doing. Right now she didn’t care. She was a predator at heart, and she was in the perfect situation to capitalize on it.

It was time to have some fun.

OOC
 
  • Chronologically, part of this post is happening at the same time as the last ST round
  • Activated Final Hunt. I’m just using the Ethereal as flavor to justify the ability, not making deals or anything. It’s used for quicksteps, why not this? >_>
  • I would like for Lorica to continue ambushing and distracting the deputies in Group Two for as long as possible using several abilities from Implacable Predator (Final Hunt, Prey’s Dread, and Pursuit Reflex). I didn’t want to state how successful she is, so I’ll leave myself at the ST’s mercy. =D
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Mobster Man
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Yurim had to flee, and fast. His vision had been temporarily taken as his own shadow-ability was destroyed. He rushed down the street, he had barely noticed the monkey appeared, Yurim hissed as he struggled to take out his communiquill and paper. He wrote hastily and poorly as he rode, 'Shdow pwers gon. on way to mnsion. Riji use light, no shadw'

He stowed his equipment and rode onward as beams of light singed his flesh and burned away at his clothes. Yurim figured the Shadow-killer would just be able to see through his tricks, but no, he completely destroyed his abilities, there was no hiding, there was no 'smart' shadow-moves, there was only blind luck and blade skill for him now.

When they arrived at the ambush point, it was time for a new plan, the Ethereal offered a deal, but it was a bad deal, it was time for a counter-deal. Yurim grins, "Instead of killing them what would the price be for just breaking Riji's metamana and any extras he has? No metamana, no tracking and no orders. Just a general direction for his troops to follow."

The Ethereal asked for a price that Yurim had no choice but to answer, it was either his job or his pride, and damn it he wanted this guy dead.

Yurim growled, "I hate I'm weak. I hate that I'm not fast enough, not smart enough. I hate that despite being Half-shadow I have none of my father's very useful abilities. I hate the fact that I have to act like I'm hot shit because otherwise everyone will realize how gods damned useless I am. Best Thief? More like mediocre thief with a better understanding of the lay of the land and a habit for theatrics. And most of all I hate that I hate myself for not taking my shot at a normal life."

When Riji came in, bleeding from his ear and dazed about something, Yurim grabbed one of his Daggers of Torment, whipping it around his body and letting it fly at Rijinder's chest. If this blade hit he knew it would destabilize him further, seeing his closest loved one dead or dying, hell, if he was lucky the guy might become a jibbering mess.

OOC
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Glug Photall
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Glug stuck the marked parchment into an empty sconce next to the window he was perched before to watch what was going on. Several messages came through at once; it seemed like things were not going well at all. The so-called “shadow killer” had apparently done exactly what it was that he was infamous for, although there was no way to know whether Rjinders was the only problem. There was no word yet on Amitiel or Rjinders’ sheriffs and deputies, assuming he had any available. But now the goblin could hear the sounds of a fight in the distance, and the flashes of light he could see meant that things were about to get very real very quickly. He readied himself and prepared to draw.

Ah, but it seemed that he was not alone in this fight…the Ethereal Plane sent a shiver down his spine. He ignored it at first, but he couldn’t get the idea out of his head that perhaps there was something the Ethereal could do to help. The Ethereal was dangerous, though…he’d gotten that much out of Ithuen. But on the other hand, the Ethereal had helped him out before. Or, at least, it seemed that it had. After all, his luck wasn’t that astounding in most cases. Sure, he could have kept running and eventually found some deep, dark hole that the bounty hunters couldn’t drag him out of - but that would have only created more problems. No, he’d gone with the only option he had at the time. And now he had another problem: Rjinders’ light-beams. If they went the wrong direction and traveled far enough, Glug would have a huge problem on his hands. He wondered if there was a way to turn those light-beams against him, possibly making it seem as though there was greater danger than there was? In a worst-case scenario, maybe even more snipers than there actually were?

As he was thinking this, he glanced over at the parchment; a new message was swiftly being scrawled upon it:

Riot at apothecary.
Amitiel, deputies, 4 werewolves.
Korso and Farethi with me at Castle
Ansgar, Alex and Caedis still there.
Rjinders moving toward manor.
Czajka whereabouts unknown.
Castle is safe. For now.
~ Carmen


Werewolves…somehow, Glug wasn’t surprised. It would make sense for Rjinders to have werewolves in his metaphorical pocket, assuming that was the problem; Amitiel’s presence there confirmed it. But Carmen was a wee bit late in reporting on the whereabouts of Rjinders himself…he was clearly on his way, or Glug wouldn’t be pondering another deal with the Ethereal. But before Glug could do anything at all, he blinked as his keen lone ear picked up the distant Rjinders grunting…in pain, perhaps? He tore something away from his ear, but…of course…his metamana…that had to be what it was. The way he was tilting his head, Glug couldn’t see what the problem was - but he got the distinct impression that something had happened. Perhaps the metamana had overloaded? That would certainly explain the man’s body language, although he didn’t know anything about arcanotech. Still, if he was in that much pain, it meant that he was probably deaf in one ear - which suited Glug just fine. He would have to strike on that side, then, when the time came to shoot; even if there was the chance that he could see it coming, he wouldn’t be able to hear it coming. More importantly, if his metamana was broken, that meant that Rjinders wouldn’t be able to call for reinforcements. On the other hand, it might also mean that he already had.

Okay, Ethereal…time to make a deal…maybe. What would it cost me to nullify those light-beams and supplement the Pariahs with an army of illusory allies?

The answer came quickly: an ear or a finger and a story of one of his failures…that was the price of his deal…he pondered this quickly, as he knew that there wasn’t much time to spare…finally, he came to a decision.

All right…don’t think I need both my pinkies…so pick a hand; I don’t care which one, s’long as it doesn’t interfere too much with my shooting.

He thought quickly about his failures and almost immediately settled upon his first one.

It was when I was just starting out as a bow-for-hire, he recalled. I was supposed to take down some highwaymen for some local villagers out on the Plains. It wasn’t even really a village, and they barely had enough coin to buy a drink between them; it was all trading and such. But they’d offered me a barrel of ale, a bushel of apples, and every last coin they had to take these idiots out. So I took their coins, lugged the barrel and the basket back to my camp, and then tracked the highwaymen to a camp of their own at a river-dock. I got cocky, thinking it was an easy job. They weren’t even paying attention to me; what the small settlement had, they’d drained to the last drop. It was only by hiding some of their stuff that they’d been able to pay me.

I shot two arrows into the first one from behind, sure shots that punched through his lungs with ease. The next one took an arrow in the stomach, and the third I missed entirely. I hadn’t realized these highwaymen had been waiting for me. I’d been too quiet for them, too well-hidden, and I’d gotten there before they expected me - but the third highwayman was as quick as he was ugly, and coming from a goblin, that’s a fine insult indeed. So anyway…he got a bolt off, sank it into my shoulder, which made it hard to draw. I nocked an arrow but figured I could still handle it. Didn’t count on the other two still managing to get off their own bolts in my next breath; it was only my cloak that saved my life, and by the time I’d turned back around, the third one had mounted and had his crossbow ready again.

I was outmatched and I bloody well knew it. I got a LOT better later on, but right then, I was as green in skill as I am in skin. I wounded his horse but he still managed to drive me off; I even killed two of his friends. But he returned a few days later with a larger force and drove the people out of their homes and all the way to Taras. From what I hear, not everyone made it.

Took me a long time to think I was actually fit for this line of work.


Things were getting intense down there and upon the parchment he was glancing at, and he narrowed his eyes as he readied himself to fire.

Now, then, he thought to the Ethereal, how about that promised aid?

OOC
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Keter
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It sort of worked. With such an auspicious moniker, Keter and his Shadow had been suspecting something, but the crushing sensation as he shifted through the shadows still came as a surprise, although not one that stopped him or his beast from carrying through. Keter considered this a part of a far grander plan in his life, and he would not allow himself to be felled by some obnoxious specialist's tricks. He could only assume that Malam was driven forth by some sort of strange mix between bestial instinct and loyalty.

So this is the Sheriff's shadow-killing tricks? Keter's Shade mused within his mind, even through the pain that had been caused to it from that crushing experience.

The kick connected, but Jakob's foot caught in the stirrup and he was firing wildly as he flailed and tried to scramble back for his saddle, but the few of the light show that struck the Shadowboxer were negligible. Even with such a humiliating display, the look in the Sheriff's eyes was one that seemed to be of sadistic anticipation, an intriguing reaction but this was hardly a clean fight. Keter quickly remounted Malam and took off on the large cat's back along with Yurim, dodging as much of the light attacks as possible. Fortunately even without the shadows or his sight, when blinded Keter had enough reliant on his other senses to make up for the loss, allowing him to continue as if fighting on.

"Second story!" Keter spits out to the Ethereal while leading the Sheriff towards the manor, "You still haven't finished paying me for the first deal, but here's another! Remove his understanding of our locations and promise to me another item to give me more power even slight-- not my ring--, and I'll tell the second story later, more important than the first one!"

The ice hardens. Your requested rewards are unacceptable as currently offered.

"Now you turn cheap?" Keter spits, "Fine, forget the item, just remove his understanding of our locations."

The Ethereal is bristling like bony needles in your soul. You don't seem too attached to your extremely secret stories, almost as if you have no qualms parting with them. Rather than begrudgingly offering them out of desperation or panic, as all others have, you wield your secrets like bargaining chips in your attempts to squeeze as much power as you can from the Ethereal. Coupled with the knowledge that you've been deceptive to potential allies on multiple occasions in the recent past -- more than they even realize -- the Shadow requires some insurance to rebuild your dubious sense of reliability. That's right: at the moment, your general behavior is too sketchy even for the Shadow Plane.

"Like you won't sell my secrets if the price is right, anyway? Do you need into my head for that nasty secret?"

No additional information disclosure is needed from you, only your consent.

"Just take the littlest toe from my left foot."

The Ethereal was little more than a petty and sadistic entity it seemed, as pitiable to Keter for such simplistic thoughts as it was necessary for the time being. If it were going to prove that annoying and stubborn, then he saw no future in dealing directly with such a pest himself, and strangely adamant about its vague time of payment to him, which could've been at any time until the day he died for all he knew, just making the Ethereal seem that much more unreliable.

Sheriff Rijnders, still holding a palm over his bloody ear, looks every which way. He even turns his horse, scanning his surroundings with his eyes and sending off a few prying beams of light into the environment. He doesn't say anything, but he looks baffled, confused, and maybe even a little shaken by how things are suddenly going.

For now, however, it actually did something. Rijinders came to a confused stop after they reached the manor, looking around like a lost child. By everything dark and comforting, it seemed he had honed his senses to peak condition but had no idea how to operate without them. The price of a little toe and a bit of pain all because the Ethereal wanted a far lesser price than Keter wanted to pay. It was because he wanted to pay, because he wanted to choose the price, that was all he could assume. The big bad ethereal must have had inferiority issues if it wanted to feel like it had total control. Strange for a being capable of so much, Keter thought, but he only thought it briefly.

While the One Shadow threw his knife at the Sheriff, the Shadowboxer lept from his beast and rapidly approached Jakob on foot, flanking the blinded enemy. His hands focused like knives and aimed for the straps on Rijinder's sadal, the intention to seperate him from his mount with a quick jab but powerful jab at his side. After that, it was just a matter of scurrying away before Jakob could retaliate in that direction.

OOC
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Storyteller[ST]
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Riot -
Inferna, Alexandra


Amitiel's relentless attempts to pierce the pair of fire elementals make it abundantly clear to her that she needs to turn her focus to them. With yet another tendril injured -- this time bent and trailing slag -- she takes to attacking the twin fire elementals head-on with her bulk. Alexandra, you wait for a moment in this fighting to shoot a thin, precise beam of fiery energy straight into the golem's optical connection within her inner workings. The fire-aligned mana punches a clean hole that a moment later crawls with holy fractals: a bad reaction that lets you know your attack worked. Inferna's Fire Defenders bulldog the now-blinded golem, who screeches and fights back with impotent rage.

This gives you time, Alex, to stand in front of the golem in a gesture of defiance. Even while creeping worm-senka are flensing tracts of flesh and laying eggs under your remaining skin, you tell her to leave. You threaten to track her runic address and turn her life into one of infinite misery. Amitiel responds with a defiant roar of her own, shattering nearby glass windows and throwing the golems off of her. Her hull is in tatters, raw mana oozing from her runic channels and only a few hooked tendrils still working.

When she speaks, her voice is metallic. "No. I will save this city." (Apprentice Diplomacy) "I will save this city from you. We will lay low the vile, the villains, the creeping scum of this place, and then we will pave the streets in gold."

"We don't want to be saved!" Czajka screams at it, slamming her claws into the ground to finish the teleportation circle. Unholy energy radiates inward from the spells, consumes Ansgar and Caedis, and they both disappear. You also notice the horse Apple escaped in a random direction earlier. "You're getting played, Amitiel. They ain't gonna save Nine Angels, they're gonna destroy it."

"That is not true--" Amitiel interrupts herself to bodyslam a nearby elemental, "--because we will bring many people to the scorchline station. Nine Angels is dying and we will revive it."

"Not the same! That's like saying necromancy's the same as resurrecting someone!" The bounty hunter slings another burst of spells to join the ongoing attacks from her allies. "Ain't you a Lowest or something? Like protecting the low plane? How the hell did you get so mixed up you're doing exterminations and attacking unarmed people and all that?"

"I see the greater picture," the golem retorts, voice shaky.

"No you don't! If you don't see the body count, you're blind!" Czajka's eyes are misting but her face is twisted in anger. Her spells are spiking with hard-to-control power, plowing into the golem's hull with corruptive efficiency. Now her words are almost stumbling over themselves with panic. "They're killing all the dregs cause it's cheaper than moving them, and they're destroying everything so they can rebuild it and put new folks from the city! Everything we know and love about this place will be erased!"

"Lowplanars see nothing but themselves. Their love, their memories. That is why the Ethereal preys on them so easily."

While this conversation is going on, you notice something a bit unnerving happening: the riot is tapering off. Some of the destruction has spread beyond the ruined Apothecary, but most of the citizens are fleeing or being lined up for arrest. The four wolves and some of the present deputies are having an argument, both parties gesturing toward, well, you. It looks like the deputies won out, because the wolves are riding off.

"Czajka, Alexandra Brie Marne, and unknown fire-wielder, you are condemned to death," Amitiel says as the team of deputies close in around the three of you. Czajka mutters something bitter about having always been condemned. There are six Sheriffs-of-the-Dispatch here; another four are rounding up citizens involved in the riot. You notice a few of the Sheriffs are already wounded by what appear to be projector strikes, and one is dead via the same, but Korso's invention is nowhere to be seen. You suppose if you wanted to hold onto it, you wouldn't have given it to some random person.

Alexandra, even though the senka predation has stopped, you're in critical shape and your ability to concentrate is rapidly falling to your life-threatening injuries. Normally a person can't cast spells while being flayed alive, but your mastery of spellcasting and concentration stretch the bounds of reality (Master Knowledge: Arcana, Master Concentration, anything less to fail).

What do you both do?


Manor -
Anci, Lorica, Yurim, Keter, Glug, Mira


Lorica, you set off and locate Group Two during the chase before. You wait until they all pass you before creeping up behind them, becoming visible for only a moment long enough to slit the deputy's throat with one blade and cut his metamana-holding ear off with the other. When you succeed, you fade back into the Ethereal's veil. The dying sounds of your target attract the attention of the rest of Group Two, who quickly panic (Prey's Dread). However, these are skilled professionals who are capable of conducting themselves well under intense stress. They form up, covering each other. Before they can speak into their metamanas, you speak into the one you stole, taunting Rijnders.

"Who is this?" he demands. You continue like he didn't say anything. You wonder how many you can kill, listing off ugly numbers in the process. Just as you're finishing, Rijnders' metamana screeches and cuts out.

"Invisibility," one of the Sheriffs says calmly. Some of them fit lenses over their eyes, others blink to change their eye grafts, and others cast simple spells.

While fending off your attacks, Lorica, Group Two is delivering key information to the other groups through their remaining communications. Only Rijnders was cut off, after all. "This is looking like a coordinated effort from the Pariahs. Group Three, bypass and focus on assisting Rijnders. Group One, you almost ready?" You're also identified, Lorica, as "Twist" Wells, the Pariah who killed the most guards during the raid on the Wine River Transport Company (and who also helped Anci kill the most innocent bystanders). They are taking you completely seriously. You're badly cut on the arm, shoulder, and leg. How did you get those cuts?

Meanwhile, the sudden message on the metamana followed by its destruction has killed Rijnders' excitement. His eyes are wide, livid. Mira, you jump him while he's distracted, tangling him on his saddle with the net launcher. You follow up with a shield bash to his leg, since he's astride a horse still, and then raise your shield just in time. A beam of light bounces off your shield. That's when the Sheriff notices what kind of golem you are. His mouth opens to say something, but then your knife plunges hilt-deep into his chest, Yurim. His eyes glaze over for a few seconds, which is plenty of time for you, Keter, to slice the straps on his saddle with your expert combat knowledge. Not only that, since you gave up a toe to the Ethereal Plane, he is not able to detect your approach or even Yurim's current position.

Mira, you utilize Keter's opening to rip Rijnders off the saddle. His mount runs away, tipping its ears back and neighing. He lands in the frozen mud with a grunt, teeth bared into a snarl. "How?! In so little time--" His breathing is faster, almost hyperventilation. Wild bursts of light around his person make all of you back off for a moment. Rijnders springs to his feet, shrugging off the burned pieces of netting draped over his body. The Sheriff dodges another pair of attacks from you, Mira, as he's frantically looking around. "Where the hell did it go!?" Yurim or Keter, did he just refer to you as 'it?' You wonder if the sudden onslaught of different factors is making the effect on Rijnders' psyche even more pronounced. (Perhaps you should always make more deals with the Ethereal when things go wrong? It appears to be extremely effective.)

"You're cutting deals, aren't you?" Rijnders breathes, eyes as wide as they can go. Unhindered by the knife in his chest, he clenches a fist and summons a foot-wide beam of light that pierces straight through you, Mira, leaving a smoldering hole in its wake. You can still move, but it's more deliberate and slower. The Sheriff laughs. "I heard the Pariahs cut deals at the first sign of trouble. What cowards. So, so cheap." Nearby walls burst light toward you from every direction, crackling and exploding on impact with anything solid, including you. He snaps his fingers and summons motes of mana like glittering stars, which shoot outward and erupt into a chain of explosions that in unavoidable to anyone within close and mid-range.

Speaking of deals, you hear a pair of horses galloping in from the west.

Two arrows punch into Rijnders' center of mass. He glances down at them and breaks them off at the shaft. His real reaction comes when the two Dalca brothers ride up closer. The facade breaks. "Why the [removed] are you two here?!" he screams, spitting. "Why in the bloody [removed]ing [removed] are you [removed]ing helping these [removed]ing--"

"Whoah there!" Viktor raises his hands -- one's holding a nocked bow. "We were just passing through and saw some friends in trouble. No need for all the cussing, man." [You suspect the Dalcas helped first and asked questions later because of thoughtful attempts to maintain a good relationship with them even though you didn't take their job.] Viktor looks around at the battle. "So what's going on? You that new Sheriff guy?"

"Um, brother--"

Yevhen's voice is drowned out. "You don't even remember me?!" Rijnders roars. The ground and sky crack, shooting rays of brilliant light. "After everything you Operators did to me, you don't remember?"

"It's that one guy," Yevhen says. "From that time with the martial law in Halasz. Should I take off my mask?"

"Absolutely n--" Before Viktor can finish his thought, Rijnders shoots a bladed ray of light at him while charging clean past Mira and the Shadowdancers, dodging their attacks with deft movements. The arm clutching his bow falls to the ground. Viktor kicks off his horse, slaps it on the rear to make it run, and ducks down to grab his arm at the same moment Rijnders aims a glowing fist at him. Brought back up, the limb works as usual even though it's severed; he draws his bow and shoots a point-blank arrow between the Sheriff's shoulder blades. It doesn't slow him down much.

"What's the plan?!" Yevhen says, looking to you, Yurim and Keter, for advice.

Since it would make no sense for you to not share, you tell Yevhen in brief that they need to get Rijnders over there -- at the manor entrance.

"Hey! Day-man!" Yevhen calls out. "Your Shadowdancers are getting away! Are you sure you wanna be fighting us?"

Rijnders is a pale shadow of his once calm and composed demeanor. His eyes are soulless, predatory. His body is trembling but his glowing hands, fingers curled like claws, are steady. Abandoning all caution, reason and logic, he stalks toward you, Yurim and Keter, as you lure him to the manor's entrance. He starts to mutter softly, dictating in loving detail exactly what kinds of horrible acts of sickening violence he wants to perform on you -- and even the rest of the Pariahs, too. For the first time in weeks, possibly months or years depending on how long you've lived in Balefire, you see something like daybreak. The entire sky turns solid white, emanating light as if the world has been consumed by a burning sun. There are no shadows anywhere, which sets every object and person in oversaturated highlights. It is monstrously painful to keep your eyes open. If you're not physically protected from the sky somehow, you are receiving increasingly painful and debilitating burns as time goes on. These effects are even felt by those elsewhere in the city.

He steps through the threshold and Aufdein Korso's GENUINE Psychopath Stopping Device snaps closed. Jagged metal engulfs one leg, mangling it. Rijnders grunts, hesitating to look down at his injury. He struggles for a bit, and then his trembling grows even worse. The Dalca brothers are still turning his back into a pincushion, with the occasional "What the hell is this guy?!" from Viktor.

"He's slowing down! Very slowly, but still!" Yevhen shouts to any Pariah who can hear him. "No time to get a weakness. We need to just brute-force it. Complete overkill."

Glug, you sell your right pinky finger to summon an army of illusory allies from the Shadow Plane. You patiently await to see the outcome of your deal... but you don't see anything. How could that be? You gave a literal part of yourself this time, so there should definitely be something to show for it. As you think about it more, you weren't very clear about the army you were asking for. You didn't specify where you wanted it or what it would be composed of, only that it would "supplement the Pariahs," which could be interpreted as supplementing the efforts of your current job.

This all might seem like a recipe for disaster, but you've only made one deal before this. You don't think the Shadow would want to turn away a potential repeat customer, right? Maybe? Who knows. Either way, you get a strong feeling in your gut that the deal you just made is connected to the fact that Group Three of the deputies hasn't arrived yet, which is very much a good thing for a job that requires no witnesses to the killing. (Perhaps you should consider more deals in the future if you've been this successful with them?)

Rijnders is getting ready to rip himself out of the trap, his focus singleminded on the Shadowdancers. What do you all do?


OOC
 
The next ST post cutoff is at 6:00pm on Monday, November 28. Back to normal scheduling.

Sheriff's Deputies are now Strong Fodder.

Tian failed to post for 3 rounds in a row and is therefore barred from the event. The number of true Pariahs is now down to 8. If that number decreases any further, the power of your NPC allies will increase to prevent the difficulty from spiking. In-Character, the loss of Pariahs is due to desertion, probably stemming from lack of trust/organization within the group or the fact that you guys can technically leave Nine Angels at any time on your own if you're fed up with things.


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Glug Photall
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"You're cutting deals, aren't you?"

All Abyss was breaking loose, and the sheriff was right: it would seem that Glug wasn’t the only one cutting deals. But this was only his second…some had been cutting deals since this whole nasty affair had commenced. Glug winced as he felt the twisting and snapping of the knuckled short-finger joint on his right hand. Then it was consumed by the Ethereal, taken into itself like a pit of boiling tar swallowing a fool. But where were the illusions? They were nowhere to be found, which must mean…no, wait a minute…Rjinders…the metamana that he’d assumed had exploded…yes, of course. Rjinders must have been calling for aid, which meant that the illusions might be tormenting whatever allies he had sought to bring. And with the others cutting deals with the Ethereal as well…

Glug nodded curtly to himself. It was time to strike, and strike hard and fast. There was no time to waste now. He was about to draw back, however, when the whole of the sky lit up. He drew back into the mansion, blinded for the moment. When he recovered, he realized that the shadows were completely gone. Everything was bathed in an eerie brilliant light, and it was only the cover of the mansion that likely prevented the goblin from having the flesh seared from his bones. He didn’t have a choice now; he had to strike. He quickly pocketed the parchment, as it would do him no more good. The time was at hand.

He muttered an incantation as he drew back and took swift but careful aim, ensuring that his first arrow would not miss. He loosed his Lightning Rod, and as soon as he did, the first of the three Rods at this nest was nocked. He fired, nocked, fired, nocked, and fired again. Then he was darting away, drawing an arrow as he did so. When he reached the second nest, he immediately took aim, casting the spell and then firing again. It was the same as at the first nest: as soon as he loosed that first shaft, it was nock-fire, nock-fire, nock-fire, and then he moved on. He did not stay at any given nest for more than a few seconds, and his distance from the battle as well as his elevation gave him one Abyss of a view. The cover provided him with all the maneuverability he needed, and his own unmatched skill with his enchanted bow and the arrows he carried was all he needed. Nest after nest he flew to with the same strategy: drawing between nests, casting to ensure the first strike, and then firing the three stockpiled Lightning Rods at each one before quickly moving on. Given what was happening below, it would be almost impossible to get a bead on him, and even if some magic or ability knocked away some of his arrows, Rjinders couldn’t possibly avoid all of them.

Yes, Glug was a coward. But Glug was a smart coward who knew his business. Although he wasn’t thinking of it at the time, his tactics in this battle were almost certainly the reason that he would eventually come to be nicknamed “the Hummingbird”. His hit-and-run tactics would eventually be used elsewhere, and the name would stick. But for now, all he knew was the rapid-fire flurries of his arrows as they sought the sheriff’s body.

OOC
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Mobster Man
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Yurim grinned, Riji-boy was on his last nerves, sure he figured out they were making deals, but why wouldn't they? It was stupid to not use your strongest cards when it mattered. The Dalca Brothers were shooting his back, Glug was firing from cover, which meant it was time to move. Yurim rushed in, even when he felt his skin prickle and burn, he ignored the pain, drawing his remaining dagger thrust into the bastard's shoulder. He reached out to rip his other dagger out and bring it up to stab Riji in the throat.

Yurim retreated, taking his daggers with him. He let more arrows fire before throwing one of his knives at Riji's uninjured leg and sent his remaining knife at his chest. Yurim laughed, "Oh come on Riji-boy, are you really that stupid? Calling us cowards? We're the villains in your little story, aren't we? Well allow us to close the book on your story, like any good play the villain always shows his face at the very end." Yurim took off his mask and tossed it at Rijinder, a smile plastered on his pale face, even with the burns forming he kept his stance, slowly walking backward while silently chuckling to himself. He had admitted earlier to being more of a theatrical thief, and Yurim would rather burn in the hells than miss out on this picture perfect moment for the end of Riji's tragic story.

OOC
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Anci
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Go on, go onnn, come on you bastard and take those last few steps!

Anci had moved out of cover but stayed off to Jakob’s flanks. He was focusing intently on going after the shadowdancer’s. Last thing she wanted to do was to lure him away from the mansion. The surprise and sudden daybreak overhead took her attention away from Rijinder’s slow and methodical approach. The sudden and blinding nature of it from how dark it had been in Balefire caused her to drop Rasaki entirely, her hands flying to cover her eyes from the light.

Even under her hands, there weren’t any shadows.

She could feel a prickling sensation on her skin start, a feeling that transitioned fast into pain that was only getting worse by the moment.

Her own summons started screeching at this skyhigh assault, Anci nearly ripped the silver cage around the bulbous summon’s body as she pulled it over. Compelling it to stand over her as she crouched. It did nothing to help the painful brightness, but the creature was getting the worst of the light’s heat. Black fluid was leaking out of the faces it had, their impressions starting to sag and sink as it was losing mass.

When the sound of the trap snapped and Jakob grunted, she urged the other summon forward by taking its need to find shelter and directing it towards Rijinder. Anci wound up Rasaki again with one hand in a casual style. No flourishes or graceful spins, just a basic wind up with one hand. The over saturation of colors was too painful to look at for her to trust doing anything else.

Up ahead she could make out the doorway. Movement was in it, but she had to keep blinking. The watering in her eyes made it impossible to discern who it was. There weren’t any voices of alarm or surprise yet and it sounded like he was still struggling with the trap.

Rasaki’s shape shifted, going from a solid sphere of metal into a wide blade. The whistling through the air became higher pitched from the changed shape. She opened her eyes a few more times, judging the distance as best as she could, out of the corner of her eye she could see her other summon closing the distance. It’s skin was bubbling from the heat, but it showed no sign of slowing down as it aimed to rip into Rijinder’s legs.

Anci contorted the chain to spin around her before shifting the direction with an elbow and sending it snaking forward at the same time as the blade swelled to huge proportions, many times wider than she herself was. The sheer weight of it was too much for Anci to heft like this, and she gripped tightly onto the chain and let it take it with her towards Jakob and the cover from the brutal light overhead. If her aim or her throw erred, she trusted Rasaki to help her in this moment.

OOC stuff
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Inferna
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Inferna spurred and wheeled Cinder around, trying to keep the enemies off her flank, but soon she, Alexandra and Czjaka were surrounded. Six sheriffs had them enclosed in a circle and four more were nearby, ready to lend a hand in the imminent executions. The riot golem, Amitiel, still stood despite the onslaught of attacks that had bombarded its framework. Moreover, her resolve seemed unfaltering; she meant to raze Nine Angels, sweep the ashes aside and rebuild. There was a certain beauty in that, which Inferna appreciated, but as the sheriffs moved closer there was no time to reflect or contemplate; there was only time to act.

She looked down at her belt, where an enchanted glass bottle hung from thick straps of studded leather. It was the token she'd been given by a messenger on the day of her emergence, when she first splintered from Carmen's psyche. The bottle was a gift from their father, and Inferna was the personification of Carmen's hatred for him. The idea of using it made her stomach churn, and the flames atop her head rippled and heaved, flaring from their typical orange to blue-hot as her anger boiled.

With a swing of her doubled bladed sword, inferna cut the leather belts and bindings holding the bottle in place and caught it in her palm. She lifted it up, looking at the roiling thunderous cloud within, and then took the cork between her teeth.

That's from him! Carmen's voice shouted inside Inferna. Don't!

"There are troubled times ahead," Inferna grunted. "That's what the messenger told us. This is one of them."

Carmen did not argue.

Inferna snapped her head back, pulling the cork from the bottle, and spat it onto the ground. Inferna held her breath. The tiny tempest inside the glass fizzled out and vanished, and for a heartbeat, she and Carmen thought that would be the end of it.

A deafening thunderclap roared from above, drawing the eyes of most everyone in the streets. Descending from the heavens was an airship of enormous size. The underbelly was a network of pipes and rotors, rudders and gears, exhaust vents and intakes. Each was armoured and reinforced against attack. The deck above, though left unseen, was a huge plane of wood, with a sturdy tower built on the starboard side. While it lowered closer to the streets, gouts of fire and ash trail belched from its countless ducts and ports, pluming in a great cloud of cinders, dust and smoke that surrounded the ship and shrouded it from view.

As the smoke thickened, a painfully raucous shriek of arcanotechnology split the sky, and from the cloud flew nine soot-stained strikers. Each looked like a tapering metal cylinder with two sets of fixed wings set one atop the other, one above the cylinder and the other below. At the front of each striker was a twirling wooden apparatus that helped propel the contraption through the air. At the back was an exhaust duct that vented a trail of oily smoke and fire as the things flew. A large, harpoon-like weapon was under-slung to the nose. Beneath the top wing the cylinder was hollowed out, and in the cavity was a leather-wrapped seat where the leather-clad pilots sat. Each of these craft were a different colour; red, green, black, white, blue, gold, silver, bronze, copper and brass.

The strikers flew in formation and dove toward the sheriffs and golem, firing their harpoons as they closed the distance, and then pulled up into the shroud of smoke to swing around for another pass.

From the low-flying airship, the crew threw sturdy rope ladders down to Inferna, Alexandra and Czjaka. The lengths of knotted hemp dangled just above their heads, hanging out of the night-black cloud. Infera reached up and took hold of hers, dismissing the enchantment on her dire stoat mount. As he shrank he clung to her leg and scampered up her body into the haze.

The strikers came screaming out of the curling veil of smoke and fired on the Sherrifs again. Inferna hoisted herself higher on her ladder and shouted down to the other two to do the same.

"Climb! We're done here!"

As soon as they grabbed hold, The Burning Hatred would fly them safely away from the fighting.

OOC

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Keter
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By the time the star-like magic had come from Rijinders, the Black Monkey had already made sure to distance himself from the light-flinging freak. The Nalaian could close the distance between himself and his enemy in an instant even with his ability to Shadowshift restricted, and keeping distance from those ranged attacks of blistering light just seemed to be the wisest course of action. The light from the walls was a bit more difficult to avoid, but the Living Myth did his best to mitigate as much of the damage to himself as possible, dancing sloppily around the ambushing spell.

Keter could not help but his face crack into a genuine smile at the situation, with the team focused on Jakob striking at the Sheriff with an almost team-like manner. They were still plainly disorganized, but they all shared the same goal and the same basic understanding of the plan. Every action taken was to further their goal, every blow intent on keeping their prey off-balance, and any misstep could prove fatal. Even if they moved perfectly and did their best to dodge every shot, there was no guarantee that they could survive this encounter against a freak that seemed to so embody the opposite of Balefire. Yet still, Keter smiled, each movement exciting, each blow refreshing, and each second heart-pounding. The pain was just golden to his instincts as a fighter, and the threat of an actual challenge kept him shivering not from the cold but from anticipation.

Thanks to the suddenly appearing help from the Dalca Bros., the plan became that much easier.

Even with the flatbrim hat Keter had stolen and even through eyes alternating between squinting and shutting tight, the light from the sky and Rijinders's wrath was practically blinding. Each passing moment for his pale exposed skin felt like experiencing rapid sunburn.

Good. Keter laughed to himself, figuring that Jakob was fast-approaching the edge of what little sanity he had. It was time for this plan to come to ultimate fruition, to lead this enemy to the place where his story would ultimately end, where he would begin to fade away into the sands of time. Yurim and Keter led the madman to the manor where they would finally and simply drop the life from his body.

The trap sprung, and focus fell heavily upon the Sheriff. Arrows and blades all directed at him with furious intent, yet the man seemed terribly resistant to death, being practically turned into a pincushion for all the points that sunk into his flesh. The Shadowboxer stayed back for the initial volley, watching carefully for a prime moment to strike, when nobody would be too far in his way and where he would not have to worry about becoming the subject of collateral damage.

When the moment presented itself, Keter uttered out, "In the end, everything goes dark."

Keter Laluan sprinted towards Sheriff Jakob Rijinders with his bare hand, putting every ounce of speed and strength that he could muster into a single blow aimed at the psychopath's neck. Every ounce of energy he had was focused into his hand, edging it as sharp as a knife supported by his might. With this strike so powerful that it would create a shockwave that anybody within a little over a few meters would be blown off their feet, the brawler shadowdancer would try to stifle the sound with his shadowy ability, trying to keep from announcing the blow outside of the manor, and hoping that they could end this as quietly as was relatively possible.

No Kill Like OVERKILL
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Lorica
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The deputies reacted like the professional she had feared they were. They grouped together, leaving her little openings, and immediately took precautions against her preternatural stealth. Some donned goggles with polarized lenses, others cast spells, and one's eyes changed colors so the iris glowed a warm orange. To a man they looked straight at her, piercing the veil of the Ethereal.

"Hello boys," she purred, holding onto the invisibility just in case it proved useful. "Did you miss me?"

She darted forward, jabbing the dirk at the closest deputy (one of those wearing goggles). He parried her blow with a sweeping motion of his shortsword. She lobbed the plain blade she'd looted off the barge from point blank range while he was distracted. It slammed into his thigh, stabbing into the thick muscle. Even as he fell to one knee he was calm, calmly deflecting her follow-up with the dirk so one of his companions could strike. His neighbor jabbed forward with a short spear, no longer than four feet, a polearm designed for close quarter infighting. It stabbed into her upper left arm, drawing blood.

Lorica drew back with a hiss, sinking into a fighter's crouch. The deputies spread out, forming a half-circle in front of her. The wounded man threw his blade to one of his comrades and pulled out a small crossbow and working the windlass to pull back the springs. "Target identified as Twist," he stated. "Pariah status confirmed. Lethal force authorized."

"How kind of you." Lorica flipped her dirk to her left hand, pulling a machete in her right. "Glad to know I have your permission."

They didn't respond to her gibe, simply closing ranks. The Keeper kept a rakish smile plastered on her face in order to mask her uneasiness. These were long odds. She'd been hoping to keep the advantage of her invisibility for longer, but of course the deputies were prepared for such an eventuality. They had to deal with supernatural predators on a regular basis. They would have safeguards prepared for a multitude of scenarios most lawmen wouldn't consider.

This area of the Dark District had a cluster of squat, one-story buildings. Lorica used the terrain to her advantage, taking narrow alleyways that kept them from surrounding her, darting around corners to avoid crossbow bolts. She managed to draw blood from a handful of the deputies, even hamstringing one so that he couldn't keep up the chase and had to retreat. However, her success came at a cost. One's sword found her hip, carving a deep cut that dripped warm blood down her leg. Another managed to stab her in the left shoulder. That arm almost useless, cradled at her side, although she could still grip the dirk in blood-slick fingers.

"Surrender" one of the deputies barked out. "You can't beat all of us."

"Who said I was trying to?" Lorica had been run into the dead end of a wide alleyway where three abandoned buildings came together. The remaining five deputies made a cordon between her and freedom. One still had her knife buried in his leg, but hadn't taken it out. His face was waxen with pain, but he'd managed to harry her with quarrels this entire chase. "Really I just needed to make you overconfident."

The madness of the corruption welcomed her with open arms. She raised her arms, gesturing at the walls on either side of the alleyway. Darkness writhed along her skin, its frantic movement mirrored in the shadows. Barbed tendrils extended from the walls without warning, tentacles lined with wicked hooks and thorns. Dozens of the flailing appendages stabbed into each of the deputies on the edge of the formation, piercing their flesh. Those men barely had time to cry out before the tendrils reeled them in, slamming them into the crumbling masonry and pinning them in place.

Lorica cackled and scurried forward on all fours. The injured deputy's crossbow fired with a loud thunk. The bolt slammed into her torso, grinding against her ribs, but she didn't notice the pain, didn't notice anything except her prey. The Keeper was a whirlwind of blades as she fell on the last three deputies, her attacks almost too fast to follow with the naked eye. She used every opportunity available to her, striking limbs to slow them down, slicing straps on armor as she darted past, knives stabbing past defenses as if they weren't there. The deputies were well-trained and experienced at fighting as a group, but they had no answer for ferocity on this level. The three of them fell before her like wheat to a thresher.

A minute later she stood over their bloodied bodies, wheezing. None of them would die from the injuries... at least if they received medical attention as soon as possible. She'd taken more damage in the brawl. A nasty cut stretched across her forehead, coating her visage in a crimson mask. Two of the fingers on her right hand had been crushed underneath a mace's head, weakening her grip on the machete. She walked with a noticeable limp. Her skin was cracked and seared from the burning light in the sky that erased every shadow in sight, fully illuminating the carnage.

The remaining lawmen were still wrestling with the tendrils, hacking at them with their weapons in an attempt to free themselves. Lorica's head twisted to one side, wide eyes settling on the struggling figures. She licked her lips, lapping at the blood. "Stay put," she growled ferociously.

Then she activated the teleportation ability on the dagger she'd left at the manor. She vanished with a pop of displaced air, reappearing near the copse of trees outside the mansion. She collapsed immediately, hacking up blood. "Uh.... Farethi?" Her voice was soft and raspy. It took her a few seconds to remember the alchemist was at the Castle, not at the ambush point. "Anyone? I... I stopped Group Two." She smiled, her teeth shiny with blood. "It was a good fight."

OOC
 
  • Damage she's accumulated has activated Risk Rewarded, a non-magical Haste buff (to go with her non-magical Strength buff from grafts)
  • Murderer's Gift on the knife in that one guy's leg
  • Burned both uses of Into the Jaws
  • Activated Death Comes in Tattered Rags against the deputies
  • Other combat skills and feats have been stated previously, but briefly: Master Athletics, Expert Blades, Journeyman Unarmed, Adept Defense, Apprentice Acrobatics, Armor Penetration, Assassin, Blind-Fight, Cleave, Endurance, Fast Recovery, Group Combat, Rapid Assault, Throw, Two-Weapon Fighting, Quick Draw, Dragonbone Shard, Pain Resistance.
  • My hope is to completely delay Group 2 from their injuries and being pinned by the jaws. We'll see how it works.
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Alexandra
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Alex rushed Amitiel, her spell forming in her fingertips as a swirling mass of fire formed. Senka poured from her like water as she moved. Celestia opened high above, casting judgemental light upon sinners as angels circled above. It burned her for her misdeeds, but she knew it would burn the sheriffs and Lantos more. That gave her strength. She tossed it straight into Amitiel from only a few feet away, as close as she dared. The explosion rippled outwards, consuming her as well as anyone right beside her. Three smaller bolts of flame formed around her and darted into any enemy that dared to get close, focusing on Amitiel if she survived the final attack. Inferna's ladder descended nearby, if such an action was permitted. Otherwise Alex would cut and run, trailing blood and misery as she went.

Mira followed Rijinders, through the intensifying light and stopped at the trapped man. She attempted to grab him, jam her blade in him and vivisect him. If that didn't kill him, or even if it did, she planned to strike him with her fist until he gave in to the pain, and then keep going until his body was unrecognizable. Then, she would burn the building around him and prevent his body from ever being identified.

[ooc: Mortar spell(Modified by master shit and some inferno stuff) followed by three javelens (moderate structural damage/moderate damage, homing, small aoe) to clear out the rest.]
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