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| Cairns on the Wine River [FIN]; [ST05][Signups Closed] | |||
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sat Sep 17, 2016 1:22 pm (8,261 Views) | |||
| Glug Photall | Fri Dec 2, 2016 12:18 am Post #271 | ||
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"The world is cruel on its own. Then you add the Shadow Plane to it, and it's no wonder some people think it's got intelligence," Ithuen said, smoking. Glug grunted and nodded. He wasn’t about to say that he’d made a couple of deals himself, though one look at his right hand and anyone who remembered him having four fingers and a thumb would know that he had. But it didn’t matter. He hadn’t given up anything that anyone who did their research - painstaking and tedious though such a thing was - wouldn't have been able to find out on their own or that couldn’t be replaced or done without. Anyway, he might end up making another deal or three by the time this was all over. “Shame we had to meet under such circumstances,” he said after another very long pause. “Might’ve been friends in another life. Wonder what that would’ve been like. Never had any friends, myself. Surprising what it takes to pull a group together, isn’t it?” He smoked a bit before continuing. “Never been much of a team player. But this group…I dunno.” He shrugged again. “Maybe we can do something,” he muttered, not really believing his own words. A moment later, he shook his head again. No, this town was gone. All they could do, as stated earlier, was “put out some fires”. “If nothing else,” he said finally, “I look forward to ending this with you.” She could take that how she wanted. For Glug, that meant getting out of this city and back to a place he could survive in on his own terms. Who knew what it meant for her? She claimed she was going to die regardless. Maybe she just wanted closure. She seemed to want to accomplish something before she died, maybe just to prove to herself that she wasn’t a complete waste of flesh and breath. Hard to tell what went on in a woman’s head sometimes, especially that of one such as Ithuen Bearkiller. OOC
Edited by Glug Photall, Fri Dec 2, 2016 12:19 am.
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| Alexandra | Fri Dec 2, 2016 12:24 am Post #272 | ||
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"Why...is Apple undead?" Other than the senka-mist forming constantly around the horse's feet, she seemed pretty normal. Other the solid blue-grey eyes. "Specific questions, huh. I don't really know where to start because I don't know much at all about Torsten or that incident in the past. I guess...how did Torsten bring Kir Lantos down? That's most pertinent to our current situation. I mean, my first thought was to sabotage a scorchliner and see if he could survive being dumped into the Ethereal, but that might not be...workable. Something more down to earth might be good." | ||
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| Storyteller[ST] | Fri Dec 2, 2016 1:50 am Post #273 | ||
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Alex The brothers exchange uncomfortable glances at the question about how Torsten 'brought Kir down.' Luckily you continue onto a brief tangent about sabotaging the Kir Lantos scorchliner, which brightens them up. "A scorchline heist?! Count us in!" That still leaves your initial question up in the air, though, and they take a moment to calm down and address it. "Kir tried to set up pack stuff in Nine Angels. Marble County's got a low werewolf presence, most of the packs are in the inner city or the Darkest counties, so he figured he'd take the niche I think. But this wasn't our first rodeo, and Torsten by then was still a pretty decent night-hunter even though he hadn't hit his peak yet. The rivalry lasted a really long time, longer than you'd think. We traded wins and losses, mostly wins on our part actually, since we were armed to the teeth in silver and knew the place better. We even had a turncoat leave the Wolves and join us. That lady was pretty damn sharp it turns out." "Miss Ria," Yevhen says, staring at his hands. His eyes look mournful. "Yeah, I kinda feel bad treating her like shit for so long... Trust issues. She was all right." "That means you didn't trust Torsten either. He could have killed her any time, brother, if he had to." "Oh come on, are we really gonna bring this up again? He wasn't actually some minor deity! Ria could've killed him when he was asleep for all I knew. She always seemed like she was keeping a secret from us." "She would never have killed him." Viktor glares off to the side, muttering something inappropriate. Grumbling, he waves a hand. "I'm getting sidetracked. All the back-and-forth between the Operators and the Wolves came to a head on that cliff we call Pureblood Point now. It was the bloodiest battle I've ever been in. The Sheriff, Bearkiller, she couldn't even touch it." Yevhen is holding his head, keeping his ears plugged as he rocks forward and back, over and over. Viktor notices out of the corner of his eye and claps him on the shoulder. "Warm up, kid. It's not like we're there anymore." He's muttering, staring forward. "Viktor died, Torsten died, Ria died, Varga died, Hacur died, Ogtrop died..." On and on, listing off even more names of Operators you've never heard of. Viktor sighs and looks back at you. "We won. Sort of. Kir limped back to Balefire, but the Operators were basically finished. And you know the rest." |
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| Alexandra | Fri Dec 2, 2016 2:10 am Post #274 | ||
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"It sounds like there isn't an easy win here. I was hoping. What about Ria? She has a really pretty name. How did she fi-ah. Right. Why was it important that she was a turncoat?" Alex's fingers fiddled incessantly. The corpses behind the Dalcas slowly left her vision as she began to collect herself once more. She hoped she could recover one day, but it seemed distant with so much pressing need. She looked down the hall. "Mira! Could you bring Zuraw here for this discussion? Unless you two have a problem with her participation. It might be helpful to learn about this conflict from both sides." Edited by Alexandra, Fri Dec 2, 2016 2:22 am.
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| Tanya | Fri Dec 2, 2016 2:19 am Post #275 | ||
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Flush with her easy success dealing with Prentum, Tanya decided to see if she and Korso could help Czajka find a cure for whatever dangerous adaptation was killing her. She put as many fragments of Rijinders body as she could find or scrape off the other Pariahs weapons in a sack and tracked down the inventor. "Hello, Mr. Korso. I heard that you thought you might be able to find a way to treat ethereal harmonization if you had a sample from someone attuned to the lighter side. These come from Sheriff Rijinders." She gestured with the gruesome sack. "Thank you for your help with him, incidentally. Your psychopath trap worked like a charm." Her face turned solemn again. "But Czajka, at least, needs help. I don't fully understand what's wrong with her, but if you think this can help keep her alive, I'm at your disposal." She handed over the sack and awaited the inventor's response. |
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| Storyteller[ST] | Fri Dec 2, 2016 4:44 am Post #276 | ||
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Alex "It was important she was turncoat for all the reasons you'd expect, and a bit more. She knew Kir, how he operated, and could read his brightspeak signals. She even made up a brightspeak code for the Operators so she could tell us things at a glance without saying anything. Came in handy. And, for risk of generalizing a bit too much, Darkest Gloomwood werewolves tend to just be really well-organized in general. Or at least good at following orders. Heh, that's probably why they end up in government. Obviously there's idiots and other exceptions," Viktor explains. You ask Mira to bring Zuraw to this area. "Who's Zuraw? What's she got to do with anything?" After you answer this, you pass the time with small talk and perhaps some basic logistics chatting. Eventually, Mira returns with Sir Zuraw in tow. She looks more confident than before, but wary and a little confused and maybe a bit sick (you're close to a silver mine, after all). Viktor squints, tipping up his flatbrim. "Have we met before? You look familiar. ...Oh! You're that young lady who went crazy on the barge and ate a ton of my soup." Ears tilted as far back as they can go, she politely refuses a seat and stands in her armor instead, eying the Dalca brothers. "So you were one of Lantos' lapdogs too, huh?" Zuraw tosses you a questioning look, then pulls her book and writes a simple message: Pardon me, but why am I here? Tanya "Aha! You got the goods!" Aufdein accepts your offering of parts delightedly. "Don't worry, this technically won't be cannibalism. The law of inverse dilution will save us in that respect! Trust me, I'm a doktor!" You also thank him for his GENUINE Psychopath Stopping Device. You can tell from the way he's holding himself that if you could see his face, he'd be beaming with pride. "I'm so glad it works! You know, sometimes I get customers who say that my products don't work, that I'm a fraud and a phoney, and to them I say: no, that's not correct actually! Good to hear." You explain that Czajka needs help treating her harmonization. "Oh dear. It would be an honor to help someone so famous. Perhaps she would even give me a testimonial." He starts thinking. "Hmm, yes, perhaps I could adapt some of the techniques I used for my earlier, more superficial tonic. Or maybe I should start from the beginning? Hmm..." You suspect it's going to be a long night. Tanya, you help Aufdein Korso in designing and partially executing some kind of GENUINE Ultra Harmonization Reduction Tonic. You haven't been able to follow his occasional lapses into bizarre logic, but you're oddly swept up by his enthusiasm and do what you can. At one point you bring in Czajka for Aufdein to study. The poor bounty hunter is quiet from a mixture of intrigue and not wanting to mess anything up, allowing Aufdein to poke and prod at her as she wears a look of befuddlement on her face. Eventually he reaches a point where he needs to work and think alone, allowing you to finally go get some shuteye. The next night, Aufdein brings you and Czajka into his room. His wings flutter excitedly behind his cloak as he turns, holding up a small glass bottle with the following hand-written label:
Since Czajka can't read, Aufdein recites the label's contents with dramatic flair. "How can you make big claims like these without testing 'em?" Czajka asks, eying the bottle with arms crossed. "I don't believe that experimentation on sapients is ethical! It's quite unethical, in fact!" Aufdein says boldly enough that the bounty hunter nods. "So... is this it? If I drink this, my symptoms'll go down? For how long?" "Who's to say? The parts used to make the tonic were quite powerful. It could very well last for the rest of your life. Just imagine--" While he's painting a mental picture, Czajka's staring at the tonic with a frown. "--Being able to cuddle with someone in front of a fire and feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and falling asleep against them without having horrible nightmares or visions, and not feeling self-conscious about the horrible black marks around your eyes or having to worry about senka trying to lay eggs in your eyeballs--" "I don't know about this," Czajka cuts him off. "I heard the side-effects. Ain't you guys gonna need me for that stuff? That's what I'm useful for, right? And who knows if I'll even survive the end of all this. Why don't you save it for later and give it to someone like Yurim or Lorica or Alexandra so they can go on being normal?" |
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| Carmen | Fri Dec 2, 2016 1:59 pm Post #277 | ||
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Don't answer him! several voices cried in her head at once when Lantos asked about her motivation alone. She didn't need their yelling to know providing the answer would be dangerous. In Nina Angels, nothing seemed more powerful than information. The harsh reality, however, was that the answers were always available, it seemed, if you were willing to pay the price. Surely Lantos had a middleman who would do just that; if the Alfha wanted the truth, that Carmen firmly believed her father had invested in Wine River Transport, he would learn it, one way or another. "What my heritage taught me," she said, "Is that cultures have been destroyed in countless relocations over the chronicle of Imythess. The annals of our history books are marred with bloodstains left by powerful groups, forcing undesirables out, and murdering those who would not budge, just as you are doing now. Each of these groups believed they acted for a 'greater good'. This city may not be one in which I would choose to spend my life, but that does not mean it has no intrinsic value. It does not mean its existence can simply be stamped out. My principles will not allow me to put my head in the sand while you commit this atrocity. If, somehow, your flawed ethical justification has brought you solace, then I think perhaps you need to reexamine your rationalizations, and spend time reflecting on what metrics you use when you pit the value of life against that of progress." She blinked, smiled, and then Lantos dropped his bombshell. It was meant to faze her, and perhaps, for the briefest instant, it did. One eyelid rippled, and then settled as she composed herself. The information he'd just shared was valuable, and when she thought on it, not altogether surprising. "I am pleased to report that Cinzia Zuraw, your daughter, is in good health. She has not suffered any undue hardship or injury that her time with you did not inflict. She has thrived during her time with the Pariahs, not unlike a flower finally provided with the water and light it needs to blossom. If I might ask, how is her mother?" She watched his face carefully for his reaction and waited for what he would say or do next. Meanwhile, the fingers of one of her hands tightened on her thigh, her nails puckering her skin through her dress. The confines of this room were beginning to weigh on her already, her claustrophobia rearing its ugly head. The walls seemed to lean in toward her, the ceiling felt like it was sinking down. Carmen had managed to retain herself this long, through a combination of training and willpower, but it would not last much longer. Edited by Carmen, Sat Dec 3, 2016 5:38 pm.
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| Keter | Fri Dec 2, 2016 9:53 pm Post #278 | ||
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Even Surya had never done such a thing before, to decapitate somebody with his bare hands. The knowledge to make one's hands like knives was something he had learned, but never had any of the lifetimes before Keter considered using it in such a way. It was meant to cut tendons and force surrenders from enemies, to finish them rightly after a grueling battle, or to match the damage of their blades to those of his hands. When Keter's hand went through Jakob's neck, it was surprisingly, almost unsettlingly smooth. While the rest continued assaulting the body of Jakob Rijinders, Keter merely glanced back to see no more openings he could take against that monstrous body as they hammered it away. With the remaining light of his magic blindingly shining in through every exposed area in the manor's walls, windows, and ceiling, the Black Monkey merely looked back at his hand. Strangely it was void of the Sheriff's blood. Keter's trance-like state was broken when the Sheriff's body began to break down, the light dancing and weaving, building up and breaking down in a glorious display of illumination before finally, as went the Shadowboxer's words, it ended in darkness. The group stood exhausted and satisfied with the end of that monstrous individual finally coming to a head. Keter. His Shadow broke through the victorious air that filled its host's head, We should return to the Castle before the adrenaline wears off. Keter nodded to himself and to the Shade. As predicted, the adrenaline of the encounter began to wear thin, and though none of the Black Monkey's incarnations were strangers to pain and suffering, it was excruciating. Yet, Keter had this old, nostalgic sensation from it that brought up memories that even he had not considered for a very long time, from the life of Surya's achievements instead of the failings that had consumed his minds and set a platform for hatred that carried throughout the generations. It was a good pain. A taste of the kind of pain that came from a battle hard-fought and victory narrowly achieved. It was that driving sensation that had once led Surya to the kind of power that threatened the demons that ruled over his people. It was this kind of sensation that Keter knew would lead him into toppling those wicked powers for the good of Nalai were he only to pursue it. He would need greater fights. Everything hurt, and he liked it, even though it so inhibited his ability to do much of anything else. Bearkiller seemed pleased with the results, but Keter paid it little mind. The "One Shadow" decided it would be a good idea to round up Shadowdancers with the death of Rijinders, which Keter agreed seemed like a good idea, but really the Black Monkey felt like he deserved some sleep in the shadows while they all planned and delegated. They had learned from their mistakes, and that gave him comfort, but of course his sleep would only last so long. Upon awaking, Keter simply had no idea who to talk to or what to say. For him, it was easier to simply watch the shadows for any premature trouble, to patrol the streets and keep his ears ready. While he could speak when he needed to, when it would get him something, to speak casually with others was something lost many lifetimes ago in that damned prison of the Black Monkey's. Starting up a conversation was tricky, but fighting was easy. Fighting was his nature. |
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| Alexandra | Sun Dec 4, 2016 12:56 am Post #279 | ||
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"Sorry, Zuraw. I think you might want to hear some of this. I'm trying to learn more about the interplay between Pureblood Torsten's operators and Lantos's group. I feel like there's a story worth uncovering there." Alex let herself get mired in though. "Did Torsten get close to anyone? I mean, am I even asking the right questions at this point? I don't know anything about what happened in the old days, but I feel like there's a gaping hole in the picture. I see Kir taking on Torsten after trying to build the town up, but I want to know more about Torsten. Where did he come from?" "Why did Ria betray Kir? How did Ria and Torsten get along? How did Ria and Torsten die? What about the other operators? Why did Kir leave Nine Angels after winning?" Alex looked to Zuraw. "I've got a few for you, sorry." "What did Kir say about Torsten? Did you ever know anything about a woman named Ria? Did Kir tell you about her? Did Kir ever discuss Nine Angels? What about the Operators and his final fight against them?" Later, Alex tracked down Korso. She laid out a piece of parchment paper. "Seems to me you can build just about anything. After this is all over, assuming I live, I pledged myself to help Ithuen improve Nine Angels...assuming she lived. I build a pump out of my old mobility runner, and I'm wondering if you have ideas on how to enlarge a public utility. A piddling pump isn't big enough to supply clean water to a whole city, and I doubt I'll find money to build a real public water utility. I mean, if we went this way with your help you'd probably need to supply repairs because I, uh, couldn't." Alex nodded. "Oh, and this is mostly charitable too because there's no money available, but I bet there'd be spare labor to put together the plan." Edited by Alexandra, Sun Dec 4, 2016 8:06 pm.
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| Lorica | Sun Dec 4, 2016 1:36 am Post #280 | ||
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Audfein Korso. Supposedly, a genius. So intelligent that he could come up with a cure for a planar malady, a concoction he claimed could cure Czajka's issues. That might be worth pursuing... Later she tried to find the inventor when he was on his own. "Hey there, Veils. Mind if I pick your brain for a moment?" She ushered him into a private room, making sure none of the other Pariahs could overhear. "I, uh, draw upon an extraplanar source of power. You probably haven't heard of it. It's very rare for mortals from this lowplane to be able to sense it, and the process for becoming more attuned to it is... quite impossible now." She ran one hand through her hair, mussing it up. "It gives me quite a wallop when it comes to spellcasting. There's only one problem: it was corrupted. It, uh, kind of drives me insane in the process." Lorica coughed sheepishly. "Like totally raving mad. I don't think you've been there in person to see it, but it's not pretty. I can barely recognize people, much less identify if they're a friend or foe." "What I'm trying to get to is this: you were able to whip up some planar shenanigans to help Czajka deal with her issues. Is there any way you could do the same for me? Maybe, like, separate my magic from the corruption?" She shrugged. "I don't even know if it's possible. You just seem like the guy to ask. It would give me a huge edge when it came to dealing with Lantos." |
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| Glug Photall | Sun Dec 4, 2016 7:17 am Post #281 | ||
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Following his conversation and smoke with Ithuen, Glug returned to making his final preparations for whatever came next. He managed to slip out an order for some special arrows, replacing his custom ones that he had lost he was imprisoned. Things were winding down, and the Pariahs were gearing up. One way or another, Glug’s time in Nine Angels would be coming to an end soon enough. Of that, he was certain. A raid was being planned to help Bacek escape from Starek, and the goblin wasn’t the only one stocking up. Glug personally requested some silver-tipped arrows, if it could be swung, as an extra precaution; after all, he was fairly certain that they were going to be facing Lantos very soon - and he wanted to be all kinds of ready. But for the most part, he practiced his spells and his archery. That was what would get him out of this alive. He checked and rechecked his equipment and supplies multiple times. Saul was none too happy with the arrangement, being summoned time and time again just for Glug’s personal sense of security. By the time everyone was going to take their next major set of actions, Glug would be ready for just about anything that would come their way. At least, he sincerely hoped that he would be. The end of this whole affair was coming, one way or another. He could feel it in his bones. OOC
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| Tanya | Sun Dec 4, 2016 7:54 pm Post #282 | ||
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After a hurried discussion with the other Pariahs via communiquill, Tanya turned to Czajka and nodded. "You're right. We'll need you to stay attuned to the ethereal a little longer. But once we've got Bacek out, the offer stands. You deserve to know how it feels to have the body you want," she told Czajka, lapsing briefly into her sales pitch. She turned to Aufdein. "Thank you, Mr. Korso. It's been wonderful working with you. I hope we get the chance again sometime. Good luck with the prison break." There was one last stop to make before it was time to begin enacting their plans. She and Carmen had pooled their money, and she went to speak to Farethi. "Hey. How have you been getting by?" She waited for an answer, then continued. "You were right about the difficulty of keeping an alchemical shop running. We're sorry it got destroyed. But I told you we'd help you flourish, and I stand by that." She offered a stack of notes to Farethi. "Do you think this is enough to get it running again?" She left the shopkeep to take care of hiring labour and buying materials, stopping by when the shop was rebuilt to stock up on all her potions. "Thank you for your help. Be careful of Kir Lantos' goons. We can't afford to rebuild this place a second time. |
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| Storyteller[ST] | Mon Dec 5, 2016 12:46 am Post #283 | ||
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Carmen Kir Lantos smiles. The corners of his mouth are twitching nearly imperceptibly. You spot his claws digging into the expensive wood of his desk. "Who am I to know how her mother is doing? She was just some whore." He folds his hands on his lap, staring at you. "I hope she's dead. I'm sure she's dead. Trash should be buried." You're well-versed enough in diplomacy to notice the slightest strain in his voice. Anger, carefully compartmentalized. He changes the subject. "I know the Pariahs will interfere with the grand opening ceremony and the scorchline's first voyage. You people don't know what the hell kind of forces you're playing with. There will be two Ethereal ancients present at the ceremony. One has taken ill, but she's still powerful beyond measure -- and has a hairtrigger temper. She singlehandedly executed almost half the Lords during the Taming of Balefire, some of whom were also ancients. If she is in any way dissatisfied with how this is going, she won't just kill me. She won't just destroy the company. She'll kill all of you Pariahs too, and everyone responsible for anything amiss in the city. She could very well kill every single person in Nine Angels. She has lived so long, and is so far worn down by this world, that she has no tolerance for anything out of place anymore. She is beyond despair. She is done." There's a knock on the door. Kir makes hard eye contact with Ansgar, who jumps and opens it. Standing at the entrance is Maksym. He's almost hairless, bone-thin and covered in withered burn scars. He smiles at you, Carmen. "You still ignore the Shadow. What a shame. I bet it would love you." "I'm talking to these two. Wait, Maksym." The burned shadow-lover bows and then keeps his throat bared in apology. Kir looks back at you, Carmen. "You're nothing. Remember that. If you get Karstoff's attention, forget your revenge against me. And it is very easy to get her attention, since she has eyes everywhere. Tell the Pariahs to rethink their plan if they want to survive. If you don't, you'll die one way or another. You're now dismissed." Alexandra "I don't know why Ria betrayed Kir for sure, but she always talked about 'real wolves,' like what a real werewolf was and should stand for. She used to say all sorts of social justice bullshit about wolves naturally just being family groups, not those rigid hierarchies with alfhas you see around here. That was her fight, not ours. We could care less," Viktor says. You ask how Ria and Torsten got along. Yevhen blushes, rubbing his outer arm and dodging his eyes. Viktor chuckles. "They got along real well." Their expressions change when you change the subject back to their deaths. "Torsten was eaten alive by werewolves, like most of the Operators who died. Ria was killed by them when she was trying to hold them off in beast form. Kir left because, well, his forces were shattered. He didn't win. I'd say we won, but not by much. Then again, at that level of violence it gets to be meaningless. By the end of the fight, it was pretty much just Kir on his side. He left with Maksym and some person in a cloak, and that was all he had. Maksym's the only Wolf of Lantos we recognized other than the alfha himself." You then turn your attention to Zuraw and pummel her with questions, which she tries to reply to as fast as possible: Torsten was an evil man posing as a local hero. He ignored his proper place and for that, he met his end fittingly, he said. I'm not so sure any of that is true anymore. I have never heard of a woman named Ria. He discussed Nine Angels often because we were there. I'm sorry I lied to you back on the barge and said I had never left Balefire. I was helping him in Nine Angels when I was much younger, when we fought to survive. I was helping him from a young age. If he had not taken me from my mother, who was a prostitute like Czajka's mother, I would probably still be somewhere in Marble County. He gave me a chance to lead a better life. Then, within the past few months, we went back to this area to do work with the Scribe, but that fell through and he was angry almost all the time. The Operators, he said, were fools and Before she can finish writing her answer to that last question, Viktor pipes up after staring almost nonstop at Zuraw. "Alexandra, you've been grilling us like crazy. What's the deal behind it? Because if you're suspecting what I'm suspecting..." Yevhen's been squinting to try to see what Viktor is seeing. His eyes dawn with realization. The two brothers utter a collective, "Shit." Vitkor explodes from his seat, making Zuraw flinch backward and drop her notebook. "Why the [removed] wouldn't he tell me something so important?! I was his best friend!" "Brother," Yevhen says in a cautioning tone. "I was his best friend!" He repeats. "Why wouldn't he trust me? He clearly trusted that gutter-mutt enough to have a kid with her, so why wouldn't he trust me with keeping it secret? I dug my way out of the [removed]ing grave for a chance at saving him, and you, and the lot, and yet he wouldn't tell me he had a [removed]ing kid?! Let me guess: Ria's last name is Zuraw!" The half-werewolf is holding up her chin, baring her throat in a desperate attempt to calm him down. Viktor ignores it. "How old are you, kid? I bet the timelines match up. I thought you looked familiar when I first met you, but getting a good look at you now when you're not all slobbering for food, I can see it. I can totally see it." He turns around, taking off his hat and throwing it to the side. "What a [removed]ing shitshow. Am I living in some five-copper novel? Shit." Zuraw shakes her head frantically. She picks up her notebook and starts to write-- that is not it sir i was never He grabs her pen-holding hand. "No, no, you didn't listen to me. You didn't [removed]ing listen to me when I told all of y'all that Nine Angels is full of lies. Kir lies. He would never so much as touch a human that way, prostitute or not. He thought they were disgusting." His occasional shouting is making Zuraw flinch and tremble. "You're Torsten's kid. Dead gods in the water, you're Ria's kid. How the [removed] did you end up with that gangster? Were you the one in the cloak with him and Maksym fleeing the city? Did you not fight with the others on the Point? When did he take you from your real parents? Why did he take you? Or maybe you went with him willingly? Is that it?!" Zuraw pushes herself up and turns tail, skidding on the corner and disappearing out the door in a silent sprint. You hear the crunch of flesh against bone as Yevhen punches Viktor in the face and slams him into the wall. "Calm. Down! My gods, brother, I thought you were over your anger. It was just a suspicion, anyway. We have no way of knowing for sure." "We should ask the Scribe. She might know. All the more reason to bust her out." There's fire in Viktor's eyes. "If Torsten had a kid, we need to set her straight about him. We need to tell her all our old stories before we die, man. And we need to go get the--" "Maybe you should have thought about all that before flying into a rage, you idiot!" Yevhen says. He turns to you, Alex, and looks sympathetic. "Sorry, Alex. We need a little bit of time alone. You might want to go reassure your friend that Viktor was just surprised, and is also a damned idiot." After that debacle, you head to talk to Aufdein Korso, who in general strikes you as much more emotionally level than whatever it was you just witnessed. "You'll only help Nine Angels if a corrupt, ineffective officer stays alive? Hopefully no longer in her position. I respectfully don't understand your logic, but oh well. I'm glad you want to help these people. They need all the help they can get." He doesn't say anything about helping you, but seems friendly enough. Lorica Aufdein listens to your offer intently. "It's an interesting problem, isn't it? I'll have to give it some serious thought. Without knowing the source of the corruption, it might be impossible. Oh, no, I shouldn't say that! 'Nothing is impossible with GENUINE Aufdein Korso products!'" He pats you on the arm in a friendly manner. "I'll work on it when I can." Tanya "I've b-been fine, thank you for asking," Farethi says. With you and Carmen's combined funds, you pay to build a new Main Street Apothecary and hire some staff. Her eyes light up, becoming misty. On the verge of tears, she hugs you. "Th-th-th-th-thank--" You get the idea as she struggles for too long to get across her appreciation. Everyone At the airship, you send off the team who will rescue the Scribe from imprisonment. You spot Czajka, Zuraw, the Dalca brothers, Ansgar, Drote, and Aufdein Korso among the forces. Plenty of Dalca Brothers Gang members mixed in. On the fringes are the dead-eyed jackalheads and lionesses of the Quiet Road, silent and waiting. They look completely human except for their animalistic heads, and are dressed for a long journey deeper into the backswamps. They all know the plan. They'll be forming into teams: an infiltration team to bust out Bacek, a distraction team to attack the penal colony if everything goes wrong, and an extraction team to pull out the infiltrators if things get really bad. Then their retreat will be covered by the Dalca Brothers Gang primarily. You've placed Viktor Dalca as the leader of the operation, and he's very grateful for that -- not just because of his vested interest in your target. He reassures you that he'll make the right choices if sudden changes need to be made to the plan. Czajka and Aufdein Korso will both manipulate luck. "This whole fixation on luck is getting a bit out of hand in the backswamps, I have to admit," Korso chuckles nervously. "I used to think luck existed, but I'm not so sure anymore. Probability does, but can it truly be manipulated? What about fate?" The bounty hunter pats him on the back and gently pushes him so he moves on. "Don't worry," she reassures you, presumably regarding Korso's ability to manipulate luck. The Castle feels empty without all of them. Neriah is always working, and Ithuen comes and goes at random times. Since you never asked her to join your posse after the job, the Sheriff is content to do what she wants. Nights pass. The city changes before your eyes. Nine Angels, City of the Cairns Nights turn to weeks. Violence becomes routine. You're on the top of Pureblood Point, sitting between rows of cairns and gazing out at the lights of the city. A twinkling blanket of distant lanterns cover the valley. "Has it started yet?" Ithuen asks, coming up from behind with lengths of rope draped over both shoulders. Lack of sleep has darkened the bags under her eyes and she speaks in a wallowing semi-monotone. The Hangman Spider, a rusted abomination larger than a bear, grinds its way up the side of the cliff to receive the offering of nooses from Ithuen. A mixture of frost and ethereal smoke blows out of its vents, and then it goes back to work. The Sheriff takes a seat at the edge of the Point, legs dangling off and back slumped. "Ah. There it goes." The banners fall with remarkable synchrony. They bear the emblem of the Balefire Dominion in stark violet. Most of them are hanging off the tops of the huge marble formations in the valley -- nine of them, leading to the name of the city itself. A bad translation of some senka-speak that normally means "Nine Guardians," Neriah had told you earlier. Many centuries ago, a sacred place for some senka culture or another. Now just a backswamp town in Imythess that refuses to die with dignity. Not all of the colossal banners are mounted on formations. You spot one unfurling off the top of the new airship tower. Packed with aeries, the tower is a symbol of Balefire's expansion from the frozen muck -- or so the propaganda says. Even more fall from the mana spikes built at intervals going all the way into the deep distance, presumably all the way back to the big city where you first got into this zakona mess. Cut between each mana spike is a pitch-black void of a ditch: a scorchline that hasn't been activated yet. Even from this distance you can hear cheers, magically-amplified voices, and music. Various ceremonies and parties. They're ominous, but not quite the ceremony you've been waiting for this past month. It's coming soon, but you still have a little bit of time. Your missing posse members have a little bit of time to return yet. Speaking of them, you tried to keep tabs on them as they made their way down the Wine River toward Starek. When their personal metamanas started cutting out due to distance, you tried to use the airship's fittings. Unfortunately, they were sub-par, as are most complex devices built in this area. You lost contact with them. You're not sure if the metamana in the airship broke or if they're all dead, but you perhaps have faith in them to come back safe. Nine Angels has changed since then. Aggressive infrastructure building and re-building has vastly improved lighting and plumbing. Water has been a point of contention. See, now that most of the valley has public lighting in the streets, calling different areas "the Light District" and "the Dark District" became more nebulous. The new designation preferred by locals, including you, is New City and Old City respectively. How was all of this possible? On the surface, the improvements to Nine Angels look good -- that's how they're designed. But the materials are shoddy. The construction was done with heavy magical assistance, cheaply and quickly, which is not usually an indicator of long-term quality. Unfortunately, the night-and-day improvements made to the city are enough to dazzle most people moving to Nine Angels for work. And they're moving here in droves. The city actually feels crowded now, and not with bounty hunters or drifters or other rough-and-tumble backswamp types. These are people from Balefire proper who came out here from the soot-blackened foundries or the shantytowns or the human ghettos looking for a better life. The mines are a dying industry. Silver was already running out when you first came here, but the displacement of businesses inflicted a serious blow on Nine Angels' old economy. Most old businesses are gone, too. Ithuen's Lucky Cleric Gambling Hall was torn down and replaced by a proper Dispatch headquarters. Alkaev's Home was raided by a death squad. Several Pariahs died in order to give the employees enough time to escape. The prostitutes, Vaduva, and Czajka's mother Tamrixa miraculously survived, and for that they are extremely grateful. In essence, you traded a small chunk of your manpower in order to keep your word that you'd protect them. "I surely would've died if you hadn't thought to protect us," Tamrixa said to you at one point. "I would've gotten out the old claws, but not all demons are killing machines. I told my baby you're good folk, and I was right. Glad she trusted you." You think Czajka will really appreciate that you saved her mother. A few nights ago you heard word that ten werewolves entered the Howling Dogs Saloon. Only one left, and she was gibbering insane. Business has been horrible at the Dogs, but Prentum the Prick is stubbornly holding onto his tiny piece of Nine Angels culture even if it means serving more food and bathing his floorboards in blood on occasion. Balefire now thinks he's too much trouble for what he's worth. The Wine River Pariahs own the only remaining neighborhoods that lack infrastructure improvements (the "Old City"). Because of your approach of district defense, you have had shaky success fending off structured violence from your territory. You are fighting a guerrilla war against Balefire's government and the various private contractors that bolster it. At first their forces pushed aggressively into Pariah territory, forcing any resistance to either back off or accept heavy casualties and then imposing their infrastructure improvements regardless. Then things changed. Maybe Kir was trying to make you sweat. Pariah territory is remote enough, you suspected, that someone high on the chain of command decided that they were going to make you wallow in filth as the rest of the city was brought up to standard. For example, the New City now has clean water service thanks to some magical treatment of the pre-existing wells -- who knows how long that'll last. You like to think that Kir didn't expect what happened next. Ever since things got really bad, there's been a mass exodus of locals to the Old City (your territory). Those surviving backswamp ruffians, even the old bounty hunters and squatters and drifters, they've all packed their bags and set up in the abandoned, squalid buildings making up what used to be known as the Dark District. These dirty, unlit streets are full of familiar-seeming faces now: a sort of miniature scavenger-city where people fight and cooperate and try to earn money in an attempt to cling to the old normal. While great for your manpower and public relations, this change made it impossible for you to hide the existence of the Castle any longer. The Castle is your headquarters, your office, your barracks, all wrapped in one. And since you fully expect it to be attacked, you've fortified it as well as you can. You didn't expect the fire. It happened while you were asleep at the Castle after that night watching the banners of Balefire unfurl across the New City. Here you are: waking up to the sound of Neriah's horn ripping through the halls. In person and through the metamana, Neriah says in broken Common: "Huge fire across the Old City! Nothing I have seen! Fast!" Another Paladin comes through the mana: "[Wolves! They're flushing out everyone with the fire, cutting them down in the streets! What do we do?!]" Kir Lantos has finally made his move. Your district defense was good. You did well with what you had. But as you carried out this plan, Kir lulled you into mistaken thoughts about what -- or if -- he might attack. His goal was never the Castle, that you know now. He knew your headquarters would be tightly guarded. But you did a pretty good job of rounding up the dregs of his enemies all into one place. A single, run-down, flammable part of Nine Angels. When you rush outside, it's snowing so hard you can barely see. Standing at any useful elevation will show you the extent of the conflagration. Flames are ripping through the old buildings like tinder. You can hear screams even from this far away. The closest extent of the fire is maybe a ten-minute ride away, but it's hard to estimate with such torrential snow all around you. "What to do?" Neriah asks, riding after you now that you're outside. "Escape? Save people? Fight?"
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| Mobster Man | Wed Dec 7, 2016 2:51 pm Post #284 | ||
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Yurim was not happy about his situation, he was harmonizing much faster than he had hoped and half the time he woke up in the night feeling tiny claws scratching his face, trying to rip out his eyes, killing those little bastards wasn't fun. He had sent The Friends into hiding, hoping they'd heal up so he could teach them to be Shadow Dancers, instead he had to get them gathered up with the rest once the Death Squads started making rounds, he wanted them to be safe, but that safety disappeared once the first sparks appeared. Yurim rushed out with the rest and saw the flames. Yurim growled, "If we run I bet we'll end up running into more of his forces or be forced out of the city completely. We should fight, if someone get those flames under control with some magic or some other mumbo-jumbo I'd say that's a good start. I'll get my footpads to start getting people to safety." With that he looked at his attire... his normal clothes, mottled black for stealth, but there was one good thing about all of these flames... shadows. He slid on his mask as he walked through the shadows, appearing in one place only to jump into another until he found one of the Friends. Yurim rushed to the Friend, "Find the others, help people that can't fight, get them some place that isn't on fire and then lay low." With that said Yurim reached into his deep pockets, digging out one of his last masks. He donned the mask as he felt his weapons, his Daggers of Torment were sheathed on his back just above his hips, the silver fighting knives he had acquired were undiluted, pure silver. He needed the extra power, he didn't have the physical strength to decapitate, he needed the pure silver just so he could kill werewolves without the need for such insane power. Yurim began to spin the knives in his hands, almost like he was playing with them, but when he saw the first werewolves nearing him, he frowned beneath his mask, it was time to kill. He would stick with fighting fast and dirty, he would strike at joints and other vital areas, he needed to be quick and precise, two things he felt he actually had. He needed to make sure he didn't try to slice to deep, he needed these knives to last, which meant avoiding areas that had very thick bones, heavy armor, or enemy weapons. Yurim took deep breaths, taking in the smells of fire and blood. Yurim growled out, "Damn mutts, just die." |
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| Inferna | Wed Dec 7, 2016 3:05 pm Post #285 | ||
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This marked the second time that Kir Lantos had told Carmen she was no one. Inconsequential. Nothing. The affront made her blood boil. Her hands squeezed tight and her lips contorted, if only slightly, before her school took over and she corrected her expression. The overall message, however, was loud and clear; the Pariahs could not afford to become the enemies of Karstoff, as it would result in their deaths, along with the destruction of Nine Angels. If they continued on their current course, it would almost certainly put them in the crosshairs of the Ethereal ancients, either one of which would be more than a match for their entire faction. One of them was sick. What makes an Ethereal ancient fall ill?, she wondered. And why is she the angry one? Will the other ancient react this way? Is there something we can do that will make her condition worsen? She worried that she would be long dead before finding any of the answers. Carmen gave Ansgar a somber farewell. She feared her vote, and his, might result in their never meeting again, but she dared not to say it. She wasn't even convinced that this was a cause worth dying for. Maybe they all should have fled from the prison boat and never given Nine Angels a second thought. The power they faced felt insurmountable. There was even an airship tower, doubtlessly put there to combat the reports of The Burning Hatred. Taking to the skies again could prove deadly. The constructions were shoddy, but the strength of two Ethereal ancients was not something to trifle with. She touched his face as he left. "If you die, die well, Ansgar." The clamor awoke Carmen from fitful slumber. She bolted outside with the others, stumbling into a blizzard, shielding her eyes from the stinging, blowing snow as it slapped her face. The wind howled and whistled in her ears. Her stoat, wrapped around her neck tightly, guarding her exposed skin from the wintery wrath. "It is so far away!" she yelled over the storm to the rest of the Pariahs. "I can't open my portal in this whiteout! I might accidentally put the exit in the middle of the fire!" Her fingers were starting to go numb, and she doubted she could cast the spell even if she wanted to. I will keep you warm, Inferna whispered. Release me. You can't help them. I can. "You'll be alone," Carmen said suddenly, turning away from her companions, staring at her empty hands. "They'll tear you, they'll tear us, to pieces." We need only to delay them long enough for the others to arrive. "It is a ten minute ride. It could be a distraction to draw us out of The Castle. Expose us, put us out in the open, and leave our bastion undefended." Of course it's a distraction. But if you want to save the people you claim have some inherent value, then we must go. "The ship can't fly in this!" Carmen shouted as she ran back to her room and scooped up her violin. Agreed. Alone in her chamber, Carmen spoke the words and transformed, sending her stoat tumbling down the stairs as he grew, his body bursting from The Castle's entryway just as it became too immense to fit inside any longer. Inferna did not hesitate, and with a snap of her fingers she vanished in an oily explosion of fire. A heartbeat later she stepped out of the roaring flames of the burning buildings. People were screaming all around her. Wood cracked and homes collapsed. People were being murdered bloodily in the street. "You mean to frighten me with this?!" she shouting over the gale mockingly. Inferna stretched out a hand, and the flames all around shrank down and sputtered out. The blowing snow plowed into glowing embers, hissing and spitting, and a great cloud of smoke and steam began to rise into the sky above. "I am fire itself, and it obeys only me!" OOC |
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8:40 AM Jul 11

