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Into The Depths; [Minor ST 3]
Topic Started: Wed Mar 15, 2017 11:02 am (2,486 Views)
Lorica
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Lorica crept through the upper level of the fortress, but in the end it proved fruitless. Whatever she had sensed was either gone or just a natural feature of the architecture. It left a sour taste in her mouth not knowing what was responsible. There are too many loose ends here and we've barely started. She was starting to reconsider this entire endeavor. Although doing a job for the Norwood monarchy had sounded like a good idea, the longer she hung around the less confident she was.

Their small group quickly discovered a false wall leading below the surface. There was some contention about who had actually found the passageway. Lorica didn't get involved in the argument, simply going back outdoors to reclaim her pack and carry it with them. She took the opportunity to flip off the deer outside. "Go get eaten by something ugly," she told their mounts before going back into the building.

They traveled for quite a ways beneath the earth. With each step she regretted taking this job more and more. She always liked having a back door to slip through when things went sideways. Being underground meant she wouldn't have that opportunity. The Dal'mar had called her a coward, but that wasn't the truth. Lorica was pragmatic. Sometimes that meant retreating. Being isolated like this set her on edge.

They found a trail and followed it until it split in three directions in the middle of a subteranean city. Lorica settled down, pulling a small flask from out of her coat and taking a swig. The medicinal odor seeping out of the container suggested it wasn't water. "If you four don't mind, I think I'll leave the scouting to you. You're elites after all. I'm just one of the Wine River Cowards." She waved her free hand towards them. "You have giant swords that totally aren't compensating for anything. Go put them to good use."

Despite her candid attitude, the Keeper laid one hand on the bare stone to feel for any vibrations nearby. They were making a lot of noise and had chosen a piss-poor campsite, in her opinion. Too out in the open. She didn't feel anything except for the movement of their companions, which suggested they were safe... for the moment. While the other members of their small party were either distracted or exploring, Lorica caught Keelin's eye and gestured off to one side, trying to get some privacy with the League agent. Keelin glanced left and right, then followed Lorica, shoulders tensed.

Conversation from OOC

When she returned she rustled around in her pack before withdrawing a small bundle. "I'm gonna leave a surprise for any unwanted guests," she announced to no one in particular. "Careful walking this way. It'll hurt you more than it hurts me." With that she headed towards the middle tracks that went between two of the buildings. Here she stopped and opened the package to reveal a set of simple traps: a wire snare, bear trap, and bag of caltrops.

The Keeper quickly set up the contents in the cramped alleyway so that it would be difficult to approach their campsite from that direction without at least getting a spike through the sole of their foot, if not getting snared or clamped by one of the larger traps. With that done she edged a pit further down this passageway. She could see in the dark just fine, but she still reached out to run one hand along the surface of the wall to feel for any vibrations that would indicate someone else was ahead of her. She kept her teleportation throwing dagger out in her other hand due to how versatile it could prove in combat. She'd pull back if she encountered anyone and try to lure them into her traps for easy disposal.

OOC
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Lachesis[ST]
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The One They Left Behind - Outside, Shirine's Mercenaries]

There was intense pain. it seemed to be the whole of her existence, but it was ebbing slowly, slowly. In time, some part of her that was never truly asleep, she knew that it would fade. Pain always did. Hurts always did.

It was on of the Truths of the Deep.

Some time later, she woke. It was dark outside, the sun having set hours before. Even longer ago, the party had set foot into the tunnels of the underworld, into the sacred halls of the Forgotten Kings. She did not know this, of course, as she had been unconscious. But she did know that she was not where she had been before.

In the darkness that her eyes were so accustomed to, she could make out the shape of a tent. An odd thing, a tent, a place made out of fabric and often wood. It was not the comforting embrace of stone, the strong support of the Great Mother that enwrapped the soul and kept the wicked ways of world away. She sat up, feeling the ache where she had been stabbed - once in the back, betrayal, dark and nasty, hot and quick. Several times in the front, as she tried to reach her companions before the Forsaken could kill her. She had failed, of course. Or thought she had, anyway. Some magic had been placed upon her, into her, and now she drew breath that was foul with the scent of life and rot, the scent of the forest. The scent of the World Above.

Alive. yes, she was alive. And she had to get back to her people. That hey had abandoned her, well, that was just a cruel fact of life. The weak did not deserve to live, and did not deserve to be retrieved. Ailish na Sto'rain had lived many cycles of darkness and had been a proud leader of the Na'hill Clan. The Chosen had existed since the days of the Great Revolt and, if the people of the surface did not remember, the Chosen did.

She got up in a crouch, and examined her surroundings. There were uards around her tent, but that was nothing to her. The Chosen had been fighters - man, woman, child - since the earliest days of the Exile. She counted eight people on her tent, and it was about two too few, and eight too unaware. Checking herself, to make sure that her wounds were, indeed, healing, she gave a cold smile in the darkness. The gifts remained intact. Her wounds had further recovered since the original healing.

She moved. Sudden as a cave-in, or a flash-flood through crowded tunnels during a rainstorm, she struck. She darted through the door, and immediately spun on a heel, delivering a wicked blow to the mercenary standing on guard their. She struck him impossibly fast, and the sound of armor crumpling under inhumanly strong blows echoed in the darkness. before the companion on the other side could respond, she had flexed her hands, and released claws. She struck at him before he even had a weapon drawn, raking his face and taking and eye with it as she did. Mighty, powerful blows silenced him just as it had the first, but by now others had heard the commotion. There was absolutely no reason for her to stick around, and so she ran ducking into the dark trees faster than those at the tent could come to the aid of their fallen comrades.

But she didn't stop there. No, she had to make her way back into the comforting darkness. She had to seize control back from Iosuf Cuineain, who would have taken leadership once she was deemed lost. He must not be allowed to destroy it, she cursed silently in her head. It is a tool to retake the World of Light from the Forsaken. It was the one reason they had come up here, infiltrated the cursed cities of the light-blinded, and stolen away with their captives. Iosuf had been against it from the start, but she was the Al'kaef, and it was her choice what the Clan would do. It was the rightful place of the Na'hill to strengthen the alliance. The day when all of the Al'kaef fought as one nation was a dream worth pursuing, and it might be realized now that someone strong enough to be Na'Al'kaef had risen to take the reins.

She covered the ground quickly, kicking off the shoes she had been wearing as part of her disguise. Clawed feet cut into the ground, set themselves in wood, allowing her to clamber over twisting roots and through the dark woodland.

And there, ahead of her, after some time running, was the way back. No guards stood at the entrance, and she did not notice that anyone was there to watch her as she darted into the great stone building and through the open door into the depths.

Ailish of the Na'hill, an Al'kaef of the Lords Under Stone, has escaped.

OOC
 
The Lord Under Stone has escaped, and any information she may have had with her. You are unable to receive notice that she has escaped. Your metamana equipment lacks the necessary broadcast range to reach the party underground.


[Camping Under The Stars (Keelin, Lorica, Kalim, Mistalee

Taeral eyed Keelin askance as she made her little comments while he and his companions spoke with Kalim. The man was hard faced after a little more prodding from the angel hunter, but he did not reply to her jabs.

He looked at Kalim, and seemed to want to say something. Taeral hung on the cusp of a confession, perhaps, but at the last moment he decided it was not the right time yet. There will come a time when we can tell them everything, he thought to himself. The time was not yet upon them, of course. But soon, so very soon.

Keail made his comment, then, to which Keelin made her snap reply. The young Dal'mar turned to look at her, and though his face was covered by steel face plates, that he had been stung by the woman's words. For a moment there was the sense that the young man was going to do murder, but Taeral raised a hand. Before either could answer, Mistalee spoke up, injecting herself into what was about to become a fight.

Despite it, though, Keail stalked towards the angel hunter until he was several paces away from her. Suddenly, all the other Dal'mar were very alert, bodies clearly tensed and ready...for what?

"Mysterious? Dashing?" The young man snarled.

"Keail, do-" Taeral began, but was rudely cut off by the younger man. Keail was practically quivering with anger now, his hand at his side reflexively opening and closing, starting and stopping going for the sword at his hip. "No, I will not Captain. They want us to tell them everything, Captain. Well, that's too Gods damned bad, ma'am, because we can't tell you everything. You want to know what we know? Fine." The other Dal'mar looked to one another, and then to all the people gathered in the camp still. Zilyana was shaking her head, eyes downcast and muttering something under her breath.

"Those technicians were working on a weapon to face Balefire with, and the Lords obviously want it. They seem to know everything these days, which is why we suspect eyes and ears in our court, our cities, and our military. That is why you learned nothing until this very moment. I am sorry if you don-"

"Thats enough, Keail," Taeral snapped. His hard features were no less soft now, but he was eyeing the young man and clearly upset about something. "That young fool opens his mouth when he shouldn't. You are all so worried that we're just using you, or leading you into a trap? That isn't the case. We couldn't bring people of our army because we can't trust them. And really, can we trust you? We give you the benefit of a doubt, so please do the same for us."

"Do not think that I will forget your words, Taeral," Keail said, His voice was flat, and held a note of danger to it that had not been displayed before.

"It hadn't even crossed my mind, Keail." Zilyana was staring at Keail so hard her eyes should have fallen from her face, but Tyrist was getting to his feet.

"I will accompany Kalim and the Hagaan. Three sets of eyes are better than one," he said off handedly, though in truth it sounded like he was trying to get away from the sudden, palpable tension in the camp.

"I will go and look through the city myself," Keail replied acidly, and turned and stalked away, going around Lorica and vanishing into the darkness. After a moment, Zilyana sighed, and got up to followed the young man, casting a look of disgust to Taeral before donning her helmet again. "I'll keep him company," she said. It sounded as if there was a different meaning to it than face value, but she didn't stick around to be challenged by the mercenaries by it.

Taeral sat down, and stared at Keelin, nodding to Shirine and Lorica headed out to do some of her own exploration. He said nothing to the elf. Nothing at all.

Tunnel To The Left, Straight On 'Til Morning! (Lorica, Mistalee, Hearne)

Lorica, you pass by the spirit cat that Mistalee has used for this same purpose, and are aware of the other one thanks to your special senses in this dark place. You place your traps in the space between buildings, and then move on into the passageway that Mistalee has already scouted...and then you go further still. Before following, though, your cat catches a scent of something. Although the ground bears no prints, there is the distinct scent of something flesh-and-blood coming from one of the buildings edging the road heading into darkness.

Your cat jumps in through a window, and immediately finds something: the remains of a camp. The walls are scrawled with drow runes, harsh and archaic, but you are adept enough in magic to know what a protective ward looks like, even if it is in a different language. You are not actually here, though, and so cannto sense the nature of this ward. There are scraps of food and ashes from some fire, but unsurprisngly there is no soot stains on the ceiling. Whatever it was, it burned without smoke which was probably important down here. Your cat then trails after Lorica.

Lorica, the passageway is remarkably clean, as Mistalee had pointed out. And, because you are not relying on just two senses, but all of them, you can find other things that she missed. The scent of alchemicals is faint in the air, and close examination can find traces of scorched stone along the passage that had been mined out. Further beyond that, the wide avenue splits into three paths; two Y off into different direction, and the third turns out to be a flight of stairs that descends into darkness. There is little by way of dust to see tracks in, but there are bits and pieces of man-made items here and there to show that the right fork of the Y is used, and that the stairs are as well. There is, unfortunately, no indication of who it was that went this way, and no proof positive that the captives were with them.

And before you can go any further, a shout comes drifting down the passage from the way you have gone. At least you have felt nothing to indicate that someone is up ahead of you the way you have gone, but something is clearly happening behind you.

You could press on, or return to see what the fuss is about.

What do you do?

In The Lost City (Shirine)(general Area)

Shirine, you are well prepared for this kind of an adventure. Your sense of smell is perhaps even more valuable than your sight.

The buildings around the camp give off an eerie sense of abandonment, but that feeling fades the further you get away from the camp. In fact, you quickly come upon proof that there have been people here, and recently. Your sensitive nose tells you that it has been mere days since the last time people occupied this place, but there are none present now.

Closer to the edge of the gorge that the bridges span - the ones that others are searching - you find evidence of occupation. The buildings are well back from the road and, somehow, there are no tracks leading into these places. They have clearly been inhabited, though, for the detritus of meals is scattered about, and the floors are clean. Of the captives you seek, there is no sign. You note, however, a symbol carved into ancient walls, destroying other glyphs that had been left behind millenia ago. A horned goat skull, or something very like it. It appears to be on some of the clothing that is discarded in some of the no empty rooms as well.

Your wandering allows you to find yet another tunnel leading into this ancient city, but the bridge leading to it is gone, lost in the black depths ofthe ravine, a massive crack that runs, for all you know, all the way down. Though, closer, it is almost possible to tell that the giant crevasse is made by hands, not by nature. It is unimportant right now, though. You are looking for threats.

Before you can complete your search of the buildings and the rubbish that has been left behind, though, you here raised voices coming from back towards the camp. You do not know if it is an argument between the mercenaries and the Dal'mar or something else. What do you do?

Underground Bridge To Nowhere (Kalim, Ahrkum, Tyrist)

Tyrist accompanies you but doesn't say anything as you walk out onto the stone bridge. This one is in fair shape, though it is railless. It would probably be unwise to look over the edge, into the abyss that pulls at you as you look into it.

Tyrist said nothing throughout the walk across the bridge and into another section of the city. This one bore the same marks of habitation - garbage, markings on the walls, although the same eerie lack of prints in the dust. As they traveled through this section of the city, though, the dust became less of an omnipresent thing, as if some attempt at maintenance had been tried. All the same, there were no people here now.

It wasn't long, however, before they found out why.

Although the tracks they had followed continued on, eventually plunging into solid stone again, the houses they looked into on either side had been visited. In them were corpses, picked completely clean of meat and cartiliedge until all that was left was the bones. Strange creatures that looked almost like slugs crawled across some of them, still, emitting a faint light as they searched in vain over the slain for any scrap of nourishment. There were thousands of them, and they cast a soft, sepulcheral blue light in the buildings where the dead had been found. These people had been killed, and recently enough for the bugs to still be present, but unless either of you know anything about these scavengers, it is unlikely you would know that.

In one such house, you find something interesting: a deeply gouged shape of a trident overlaying something else. With some imagination, it could be a goathead carved into the wall, but it has been badly damaged by the vandals.

Raised voices echo from outside, back the way you came from. There is no way of knowing what it is about from here. What do you do?

The Way Station (Kagiso)

Kagiso, you set out on your own, following the ancient, dusty road up to the approaches to the bridge. If the party had just gone a little further, they would have found far more evidence of activity in this lost city, but they had stopped just short of such evidence. You have to be thinking to yourself that they don't really know what they are doing, don't you?

The bridge itself is in poor shape, and looks like it could collapse either next year or a hundred years from now. Either way, relative to its age, it will be soon. Cracks cross large swathes of the smooth stone, and here there is no dust. A breath of wind stirs over the fathom less void beneath you.

Beyond the bridge, the path goes between a pair of buildings. Both of them have collapsed, little more than piles of rubble. You continue on, moving into another tunnel with your senses alert. You make it perhaps half a mile further on when you start finding the bodies.

It's impossible to tell how old they are. They have been completely stripped of all soft tissue, leaving only bones. Their postures indicate that their deaths had not been clean. The fact that bones were broken and limbs severed from bodies was just icing on that particular cake. Kagiso, you continue just a little further, and come to another cavern. This place has structures in it too, and they look like some kind of checkpoint the way they crowd in on the road.

Before you can reach it, though, you see something ahead. Several somethings. They quickly resolve into humanoid shapes running at full speed, and they are heading right for you. You quickly act to take cover, just as they come in range of your other senses. They must not have seen you, because they did not slow or stop. They don't even look back. There are a dozen of them, and they are dusky of skin and slightly shorter than most people you have met before. They are wearing armor and, despite the danger of it, running with wicked looking blades drawn. Even as they rush along the passage, you can year their ragged panting. They have been running for a while.

And they are heading straight for your camp. What do you do?

And Now For Something Completely Different [CAMP]

There was a certain amount of tension in the camp, hastily made. It was clear that the Dal'mar, or at least Keail, we're not best pleased with the attitude of their mercenaries, and therein lay the problem: they didn't view the rest of the party in the same way they did soldiers. Norwood did not often have to employ mercenaries for tasks like the one they were involved in now. It was one thing to bring them in to police the woods with the Feadin and another all together else for this.

Such was the brooding mood when Taeral suddenly sat bolt upright. His armored head snapped down the path that Kagiso had taken, and suddenly he was in his feet and with a sword out. The dozen dusk skinned elves - they were elves - came to a sudden halt, and weapons came up almost immediately.

<<Get out of the way,>> one of them snapped in their own language, and several of them made as if to move forward despite the people camped in the middle of the road. Many of them bore cuts and bled openly, and now that they had stopped, one or two of them seemed to be struggling to keep their feet.

<<Army,>> one of them said, and indicated one of the Dal'mar with the long knife in her hand. <<They are here too! What do we do, Serras?>> The one was holding a rapier, blade dark in her hand. The other arm hung limp and useless at her side.

<<Push through. We don't have time to deal with these bastards!>> And with that, he advanced warily, eyes searching for the easiest way to get through.

What do you do?

OOC
 
The next ST post will be on Monday, March 27th, at 7:00 PM Central.

As always, the OOC discussion may be used between rounds. Additionally, ify ou choose to fight, the OOC Discussion can be used to carry out the fight mid-round. I will post more details about this in the Discussion thread.

Apologies for the lack of quality in this post, future posts will not be as clanky.
Edited by Lachesis, Sat Mar 25, 2017 3:51 am.
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Keelin
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Keelin said nothing in response to these assholes. Nothing at all.

Once Kagiso had alerted Keelin of danger, she stepped toward the pathway where enemies would be anticipated. A half-melted halo flared behind her head. Matte black hook-swords appeared in her hands. Since she didn't know what the enemies were capable of or whether they would even be intercepted before reaching camp, she waited in a defensive stance. If the enemies reached her position, she would begin to attack them with her wide variety of abilities.

...
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Mistalee
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As soon as she heard the footsteps of people approaching she gripped her bow firmly, other hand hovering over the quiver on her hip ready to draw an arrow. She stepped forward and saw that it was a group of her dark skinned subterranean cousins. She held no love for the dark elves, but neither would she attack on sight.

She stood her ground firmly, eyes fixed on those before them. She did not speak their language, but did not need to to see that many of them were injured and seemed wary of them. While she would not easily trust one of the drow...perhaps she could hope that this group at least would not be an out right enemy. From what she could tell, they were more concerned about getting past her and her group than fighting with them.

Cautiously, she opted to speak. "Do you understand the surface language?" she asked. "What had caused such injuries to you? Why do you seem to be in such a hurry? If possible I would prefer to avoid an unnecessary fight."

She just hoped that her fellow companions would hold for at least a few moments longer, at least until they could get a better idea if these drow were indeed enemies or could provide them with some insight. Still, despite trying to go down the peaceful route she was ready to fight at a moments notice.

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Ahkrum
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Curious thing about the dark, perhaps it did not increase the other senses but it definitely allowed one to focus more on them. Scent graced Ahkrum's nose first, the smell of long-ago death, bones picked clean of their delicious flesh, though these were likely far larger than what he was used to. The focus on scent was replaced by some of what little light the small fae had come across in this underground since their entry, emitting from legless creatures-- slugs or something slug like. Likely no good for eating, but good enough for seeing. Swarmed. . . like flies? Could it be? Still not worth the risk to see or investigate them further, just leave them be and be left alone by them, at least for now. Stay with the group who could see and follow them if things got rough. Things were tricky for Ahkrum down in the dark, but for now there was little to no problem for him that L'akolb could not navigate.

They appeared briefly to Ahkrum's eyes at La'akolb's height, signs of passages, rooms, caved-- no, buildings. A dead city. Emphasis on the dead if they were truly carrion-feeders, simply showing up for a meal.

His group saw something, but he heard something. Voices. Behind them. Distant, echoing throughout the dead remains of the buildings. Ahkrum could not make out specifics, but it seemed doubtful that they belonged to anybody from their group.

"Voices. Take cover, hide? See voices?" Ahkrum said in a loud but hushed tone, trying to make sure that only their immediate group could hear him. On scouting missions he was used to withholding his built up rage to allow enemies to pass without getting wise to his presence. He could simply hide on the ceiling with his spiders, but if they were going to engage, he would need some assistance.

OOC
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Shirine
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Shirine's Mercenaries

The main camp reacted quickly seeing the two injured or dead guards. One was sent to report to the main camp and get reinforcements. This was standard procedure when unexpected thing happened. The other seven got their gear together and went in pursuit. They were unfortunately not as fast as their target and had been delayed by inspecting the two guards who the woman had struck down in her escape.

The ones watching the camp watched her run in and after she had disappeared they waited for a bit to confirm that nothing else was going on before meeting up to talk with the lead scout. He tried to contact with the metamana, but they couldn't reach their Captain Shirine Mikayles. They sent one back to the camp who would probably continue add catch up with the other messenger to the main camp.

The remaining four of them moved to follow their captains foot steps and get in range with the metamana. They did go for being a stealthy as possible as the enemy was clearly extremely skilled and dangerous.

The group from the main camp would also arrive about an hour latter at the bandit camp. They numbered 11 now. They set five to watch the camp and the remaining six followed to be backup for the four scouts who had gone ahead of them. Even if the advanced scouts failed maybe the backup scouts could reach Shirine with the important information.

Down Bellow


OOC: Okay a little confused you called them dusk skinned and elves. Are you referring to drow or just some variant of elves? With all the new lore cropping up I am unsure. If Drow then I suppose Shirine will react as described bellow. If not assume she is more willing to watch and see how thing will work out. Note Shirine does know the drow language having been a slave. If they are not drow, but they are speaking the same or similar langauge, then she will try to talk to them more peacefully. :End OOC:

Shirine found her scouting missions fairly successful only to be interrupted the sound something from the camp. She motioned for Volare to move back only to find an unpleasant surprise. A group of dark skinned drow. She spoke in drow, <<What are you things doing here? >> She had her sword out in a flash and was looking quite ready to fight. She wanted to just kill them, but the professional in her barely held back her hatred as she looked for an opening to capture them. A bit of intense question and then she could wipe out these filthy things (drow) from the world.
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Lorica
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Lorica nearly kicked the cat when it first appeared, holding back at the last second. Thinking back, she vaguely remembered on of her companions mentioning they were sending a pet out to scout. She glared at the feline. "Give a woman some warning next time, will you?" The cat didn't respond, of course. The Keeper sighed. If this wasn't dysfunctional enough, now I'm literally pet-sitting. Great.

Still, she kept moving forward at a steady pace, staying on high alert. It wasn't a state she could maintain indefinitely, but it should be sufficient for now. Lorica soon reached a portion of the tunnels that had seen activity recently. There were scorch marks on the walls, along with a lingering, caustic odor. Alchemicals?

Before she could investigate further she heard shouts from behind her, in the direction of the camp. Lorica paused, tilting her head and listening. She didn't hear Keelin's voice in the mix, which meant the angel hunter was probably fine. Besides, she didn't envy anyone who tried attacking her friend. If the League agent let loose, everyone would be able to hear it. Explosions carried a long distance.

Keeping an ear open for any sign she was needed back at the base, Lorica pressed forward to keep searching for the source of that odd scent. She lapped at the air, tasting it, trying to find out what direction the alchemical odor was coming from. The fact that the smell hadn't faded yet suggested it was recent, which meant that someone had been through here recently. Once she figured out the direction of the smell she continued.

ST Response from OOC

It led down the nearby staircase. Lorica sidled down the steps, trailing one hand along the wall to detect anyone moving nearby. There was nothing, but eventually she came across a larger cavern. Resting in plain sight was a tripod made out of bones, a sheet with an odd insignia hanging from the intersection. It was set up too perfectly, like it had been left for her. The Keeper slipped into a patch of shadows and went as still as a statue, barely breathing. She waited for a good while, trying to sense any possibility of an ambush through a combination of sight, smell, and vibrations.

Once she was relatively sure no one else was waiting she acted. Lorica surged out of her hiding spot, darting across the cavern floor. She snagged the bony tripod, pivoting on one heel and hurling her dagger back towards the staircase. It bounced off a wall and she disappeared, landing halfway up the stairs. She snagged the blade out of mid-air and rushed up the stairs. She'd continue in this vein all the way back to their camp. If there was fighting going on she would throw herself into the fray, but if the battle was already done (or never happened) she would simply share the information from her scouting expedition. Namely, she would show everyone the weird tripod, the sheet with the trident sigil, and tell them about the burn marks and lingering alchemical odor.

Abilities
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Hearne
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Hearne's cat padded along behind Lorica and the other feline for a time before hearing raised voices from the tunnel behind. The cat-thing's ears perked and it vanished from the tunnel into a cloud of tarry, herbal smoke from one of Keelin's cigars.

Hearne opened his eyes back in camp, sitting cross-legged on the stone floor a short ways away from the dark-skinned elves and his companions. Keelin flared her halo immediately and looked prepared to lay down a beating, the others looking just as eager to fight as soon as the opportunity arose.

He walked forward as calmly as if he were walking down the hall of his own home, not visibly distracted or prepared to do battle. Unarmed and robed he gave off the impression of a noncombatant. He was covered from head to toe completely in cloth wrappings and his iron and ivory mask, the only mystical thing about him the single golden mandala iris in the single eyehole in the mask's center and the mana radiating off him like a powerful fragrance.

Humming quietly to himself quietly at first, additional voices began joining in the humming from within the robes. Each picked up a new, complimentary part or simply harmonized with another for emphasis until there were seven different voices. The simple tune became a complex chorus weaving through and around one another, a beautiful song thrumming outward. Magic wove into knots in the song, brought into line by the perfect chorus and wound tight, flowing and pulsating with the hummed notes.

He reached out with that song, laying it over the group of dark elves seeming ready to snap and attack at any given moment. He let them share his own emotional state, mostly a confused mess. His emotions were alien and strange, but with a sense of utter inner peace that would not change if they sat down to chat over a fine meal or if he were to stoke their campfire into a funeral pyre. The music suggested friendship, a way out of their immediate threat of death. While the first half of the melody did this, the second underlayed it with an active spell to dampen their aggression.

Humming to himself, the Demir wasn't even looking at the group. He seemed to be admiring the surrounding buildings as he gave off the deep, resonant humming melody, drumming his wrapped fingers on the cover of a thin tome, roughly the size of a travel journal.

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Edited by Hearne, Mon Mar 27, 2017 5:09 pm.
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Volare
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There was quite a bit of tension between the Dal’mar and the mercenaries that they had brought along. Volare wasn’t exactly fond of them or impressed with them thus far, but that was mostly their attitudes. She had yet to see their mettle - or their metal - tested upon the field of battle. The one called Keelin outright hated them, or seemed to, and things had almost come to blows before Volare had left the camp.

Like Shirine, Volare had the senses and primal nature of a werefeline. As they set out to patrol the Lost City, she shifted fully into her hybrid form. Now it was not merely her ears that were feline, but her eyes and her nose as well; a short coat of soft fur covered her, claws were ready to be unsheathed with barely a moment’s notice, and her senses were on high alert. The boots her wardrobe outfit produced receded, allowing her feet to “breathe”, but they were only hybrid feet. Her full werefeline form was basically a pissed-off giant snow leopard that could move on two legs almost as easily as on four, complete with tail; her wings also retreated painfully into her body during full wereleopard status. Of course, Moon Madness would have put her into her hybrid form as well, but that was even more dangerous than pure wereleopard.

The pain involved was the main reason that, even a year after being turned by Shirine, Volare rarely tapped into her full wereleopard form. She frequently shifted into an actual leopard when she wanted to be alone, delving into the woods to escape from everyone. Shirine had provided her with a lot of emotional support as well, though sometimes, even the most social people needed alone time. But for now, her hybrid form would suit her just fine. For one thing, her sense of smell could tell just as easily as Shirine’s that people had been in the buildings of the Lost City not too long ago. A symbol upon one of the walls that matched the one on some of the abandoned clothing gave Volare pause; the symbol must have been some kind of insignia, something perhaps belonging to an army or some such. Given the location, there were only a few races that came to mind immediately: drow, dwarves, goblins, orcs…or perhaps demons, though that was unlikely this close to the surface. It was also more like that goblins might be down here than orcs, although the image of a ram was a plausible one for dwarves to wear. Drow she wasn’t certain of.

The fact that there were no tracks leading to some of the buildings, which had clearly been inhabited, told Volare that whomever it was had probably wiped their tracks. That screamed army, if it was a group rather than simply vagabonds or some such. It also told her that it was more than likely either drow or goblins, as dwarves probably wouldn’t have bothered to wipe away their tracks. But they must have left in a hurry, or why would they have left their trash about despite wiping away their tracks? It made no sense - not to Volare, at least.

When they came to the chasm, Volare knelt at the edge. With long examination, it became evident that the gorge may have been carved by tools rather than by nature. But she had little experience with caves back in Gwyllion and only a little in Imythess. She was about to ask whether she should fly down to see what she could find when shouts echoed across the stone. They were coming from the direction of the camp. She rose quickly.

Shirine was a step ahead of her, both figuratively and literally speaking. She motioned for Volare to follow, which she did quickly. When they arrived back at the camp, Volare remained just behind Shirine with a hand upon the hilt of Ivyn’s Ire. She wasn’t ready to unsheathe her claws just yet. When she did, no one would be safe - except perhaps Shirine. When Shirine drew her blade, Volare drew Ivyn’s Ire as well. While Volare personally had no problem with drow in general, she remembered all too well that one who had experimented upon Shirine. Her jaw was set and her eyes burned, and she knew it was a hundred times worse for Shirine even without looking. Just as Volare had a personal vendetta against humans, Shirine had one against drow; they both had their reasons - good, bad, or indifferent - but they were both professionals and could restrain themselves if need be for the most part. Volare had not been so easy to restrain in the past, but she had found guidance among the elves and in Shirine and Hearne, and she had become much more…tolerant.

Despite her “tolerance” of humans, she understood all too well Shirine’s wording and didn’t say anything. She simply waited, her stance defensive but ready to shift with barely a moment’s notice, waiting. Her now-primal need for battle cried out to her, a vague warrior’s instinct born of her past and of the wereleopard that she had become, as well as her desire to defend her mate and to defend her Captain. The white stars dotting her black blade seemed to glowed in the darkness, reflecting light off of the poisonous green tinge around the razor-sharp edge of Ivyn’s Ire - so named for very good reason.

…and then Hearne was standing there quite suddenly, admiring the walls or some such, and he was…humming…Volare stared at him for half a second before forcibly returning her attention to the dark elves before her.

OOC
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Kalim
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The remnants of the Dal'mar's angry voices bounced around in his head as he departed the camp. Whatever their misgivings, in the mercenary's opinion, this was for the best. Secrets, hiding in the dark, forcibly brought to light at the worst possible moment, always brought more trouble than simply being upfront. At least in his experience. However much they might pretend otherwise, mercenaries weren't loyal-less dogs. Their had their own opinions, their own priorities. This way, their group be able to adjust their mindset ahead of time and decide just how hard they were willing to fight instead of wondering just why the hell they were in this dark forsaken place.

Semantics, all of it, but it was something he couldn't help thinking about as they wandered the abandoned underground city. As for himself, he wasn't sure how he felt about it. It seemed like everyone was at war these days, and giving Norwood a way to fight back would just add to the chaos. But then, letting Balefire walk all over the forest would add to their power, potentially making them more dangerous.

None of my business, none of my business.. he repeated to himself as he peered inside buildings to his left and right. He said nothing to his companions. Tyrist was likely in no mood to speak, and he wasn't quite sure what to talk about with the Hagaan. He did notice, from the way Ahkrum held himself, that he didn't seem to be able to see down here. Likely he was relying on his mount's ability to see. Kalim briefly considered pulling out one his throwing knives; they were enchanted to provide light. He decided against it. There was no point in making themselves easier to see by enemies.

He signed as he stepped inside yet another building only to see the same thing. Bones and slugs. Kalim wrinkled his nose at the squirming creatures and turned his attention to the symbol etched into the building's wall; and trident of some sort, on top of some vague decoration he couldn't clearly make out. Running his fingers over it, he muttered to himself. So far it seemed like all they had found on this mission was dead things. Would be nice these much-talked about lords were among them. He turned around and shrugged at Ahkrum, then stepped outside.

A shout. Several of them. The mercenary jerked his head back towards the camp. He took a step in that direction, hesitated, then patted his cloak's large right pocket. Novi, previously napping curled up inside it, stirred, stretched her serpentine body, and sent him a drowsy query.

"Wake up. Need you to send a message. To...Taeral." He paused a moment before thinking the recipient's name. He wasn't sure who was still in the camp, so the captain was probably still the best choice to question. He began to tell Novi what to say, and she telepathically relayed his words, his hurried, gruff tone being replaced by her soft voice.

"Message from Kalim. He says nothing but skeletons and glowing slugs this way. Heard shouts. What's happening?"

He waited for a moment before grunting. He looked over at Tyrist and Ahkrum. "Those shouts came back from the camp." A brief moment of silence, then, "I'm returning. Too dangerous to keep going when there might be enemies at our back. I suggest you do the same."

With that, he began to run back towards the camp, but only for a few steps to pick up speed before jumping and twisting his body in midair to be perpendicular with the ground. With an uttered word, his boots caught aflame with magical fire and he shot forward with a jarring speed, zooming away in the direction of the camp.

With his enhanced sight, he was able to see the others well ahead of time, and managed to work out the situation. As he rocketed back into the camp he cancelled the enchantment on his boots and he dropped back to the ground, his momentum carrying his forward. He caught himself and rolled once before popping back onto his feet, a katar in his left hand and aimed into the general midst of the drow while his right hand was open, palm facing back towards himself. Briefly, he took took of several glimmering spheres floating above them. Some kind of spell, he assumed probably from one of his companions.

"Hey there, friends," he called to the drow, his cheery words belied by his sharp tone and the fighting stance he had taken. "You aren't going anywhere until-" A noise pervaded his ears. He quickly jerked his head back and forth until he realized the source, the hooded man in their group he had yet to speak to. The man was humming, a calm sound that seemed to be expanding into a full-blown song. Kalim gaped at him for a few moments before shaking his head and reattaching his grim stare on the dark elves.

"Right. As I was saying. You don't look like you're in any shape for a fight. How about you tell us who gave you those wounds, and who turned this city into a catacombs?"

OOC
Edited by Kalim, Mon Mar 27, 2017 8:49 pm.
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Kagiso
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The drow ran by. Kagiso shook her head and moved after them. <Camp. All mercenaries in range. Drow heading towards camp. Small group. Will ambush on arrival. Reasons.> Then she bypassed them while invisible and reached the base camp. She reappeared in a moment and holstered her crossbow. She reached into her heavy cloak and drew a short barreled weapon attached to a hose. She snapped her fingers a few times in front of a small protrusion. A flame sparked to life. Kagiso tossed a mask across the room to Keelin. "Put this on. Air might become a problem."

The drow appeared, said some words, and were instantly doused in a curtain of liquid flame. Every surface it touched it happily burned on, and without water to quench the fire they probably wouldn't last long. If they tried to approach Kagiso, she would probably jet backwards and out of their reach.

fastkagiso
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Lachesis[ST]
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The Endless Tunnels (Shirine's Mercenaries)

Shirine, your mercenaries move into the passageway the rest of the group has already passed through, and begin their descent andtrek in the darkness. Did your people think to bring torches along, or are they all similarly gifted with night vision as yourself?

The passage has been trampled so that all tracks seem muddled, and it is impossible to tell one set from another in the mess. You do not even know if you are still following the woman you found earlier, but you must be because there have been no tunnels off to either side. Regardless, you encounter no resistance whatsoever, even though you are the better part of a day behind the rest of the mercenaries.

You continue your trek.

Range Finder
 
Shirine, your mercenaries are three rounds out of range with the rest of the party, barring any unforeseen catastrophe.


Trespassers? Unacceptable! (Elsewhere)

"They take anything?"

The voice was low, more a growl than speaking, and it issued forth from an imposing man that stood in the middle of all the activity, aloof to it all. Vertical eyes born for the darkness, eyes that could see with out any light at all, watched as members of his people moved about the slain. Every now and again, one of his clan mates would pause by a twitching body, and summarily drive a heavy bladed sword through a chest. Every now and again their was a plea and a scream, but the Al'shari had long ago grown deaf to the plight of the invaders.

"No, Al'kaef, they have taken nothing." It was a human who spoke to him, and highly honored by the leader of the Kobrahl. The Al'shari's tail flicked with pleasure at this, a heavy, muscle bound thing that was primarily used to keep his balance. The Al'shari Al'kaef looked like nothing so much as a more upright walking raptor with stronger forelimbs. Those limbs ended in cruelly hooked claws which were wrapped around a black hafted spear made of some unknown material. "They have taken none of our supplies, Highest, and they have not taken our captive."

"That is good," the Al'kaef rumbled. His eyes snapped to the bound and gagged figure, trussed on a pole. The raid in which this particular captive had been taken had occurred days before, but it was necessary to rest after such a raid. They had traveled far enough, and then rested. "I do not understand why the Na'al'kaef want this pathetic bags of flesh. They are a waste of resources."

"That is far above my station, Highest."

"Yes, it is."

He looked back down the cavern and shook his great reptilian head. "Go and kill the ones that escaped. They should know the price of setting foot in our territory by now, but they never learn."

"No, Highest, they do not. Not they, nor any other. This is our world, and it does not belong to them." He paused. "In any case, I already sent a war party out to deal with them."

"Good," the saurian growled, nodding. "It is time to move. The Na'al'kaef will want this prisoner as soon as possible." He paused. "And see that the wretched thing does not die. The light-blinded are weak. All weak."

The human nodded, and bowed himself away from the Al'shari as the beast turned to get a snack. There was time, after all, before they had to continue. A moment later the saurian moved off as well, heavy plate male clinking with odd harmonics as he moved.

The Ring of Fire (Everyone)

Hearne, as soon as you begin your song the drow hesitate in their advance, but that is all it is: hesitation. [Your spell song fails; the targets are not feeling aggression towards the party; they are in fear of something else.] Despite this failure, though, these people looks as though they are genuinely confused about what to do. Even though they outnumber you, they appear to understand that they cannot charge through, however badly they might want to.

Taeral stirs for a moment as something tickles the back of his mind, and his eyes go unfocused for a moment as he receives your message, Kalim. He still has his blade in hand, though he does not seem inclined to use it at the moment; after all, the 'enemy' has not actually attacked anyone yet. Drow at camp, the Dal'mar mentally signals. No fighting yet, but it is tense. Be careful. The Dal'mar does nothing yet.

Mistalee, you speak to them in a cautious manner. Kalim, you essentially ask the same question, but in a more threatening manner. Tyrist stands behind you, hand to weapon by that weapon still settled onto his back.

The dusky skinned elves look at you, and it is very clear now that it is not a fight they seek at all. "We do," said one of them uncertainly, if a bit quickly. "Some of us. A little. The Kobrahl do this. The Kobrahl come," he said, indicating the way they had come. "We flee to live," he replied to Shirine, taking a step forward as if to perhaps run over the top of them, perhaps cut their way through. No, this is more than fear...it is mortal dread. Terror. "You flee too, ok? Maybe live. Stay here, die. Trespass here."

They half start forward again, the one who had been doing all the talking looking plaintive, casting backwards glances the way they had come. "Please, let-"

The speaker cut off immediaitely on the arrival of yet another, this one with a mine-clearer in hand. The drow knew very well what that weapon was, and there was a certain amount of dread to see one pointed at him and his companions. He raised his hands, and dropped his weapon. The rest did not do the same.

It is into this, Lorica, that you return, carrying your prize. The speaker suddenly points at it, eyes wide. <<"Why did you take that? That is one of their markers! Put it back!">> The words were delivered quickly and with no small amount of panic. "Put back. Kobrahl much danger, no anger." He moves as if to take it, thinks better of it, and backs off. Before he can say anything else, though, a piercing, eerie wail fills the entire cavern, a kind of battle cry that none of you have ever heard before. In fact, very few people who hear it live to tell the tale. The drow immediately spin and raise weapons, soft groans escaping many of them. They know what is coming.

"Maybe live. You strong warrior? If not, dead. All dead." There is a note of hopelessness in the speaker's voice.

The tunnel that the drow had come from is filled with moving shapes, and it becomes clear as that gaping hole in the side of the cavern disgorges people that this was what the drow were running from.

At the head of the pack are several humans dressed in odd looking leather (and it is probably best not to ask where that leather came from, either.) They are all carrying spears made of some odd black material you have never seen before, wearing pieces of rough leather armor, and they are swarming forward. Among them are some creatures you have probably never seen before, bipedal lizards that lean slightly forward as their taloned feet score stone in a headlong rush. The mob is howling in a guttural language that none of you can understand, and there is an undercurrent of absolute rage and indignation beneath it all.

In their midst are two armored souls decked out in the very same black material. They stand a little taller than the rest, and do not rush forward quite as quickly, though they mark your party quickly. They wear no helm, but their faces split in a grin of pleasure, and you can hardly guess why.

The rest do not pause but for half a second on seeing all of you as opposed to a dozen drow. That pause ends as they rush towards the bridge. The reptilians leap across the gorge in a single bound, waving short spears and bucklers as they land and rush you, murder in their eyes. The rest are forced to com across no more than six wide to avoid falling over the edge. There are at least fifty of them, though, and only sixteen of you. Of the drow who have cast their lot in with you, only half of them are truly fit to fight; the rest bear wounds that will impede them.

Keail and Zilyana come running back from where ever it was they had been, and they are nearly silent as they approach the group. Zilyana gives the young Dal'mar a small shake of the head, to which he says something angry that cannot be heard over the roar of the attackers. Taeral looks at all of you, settles into a stance and grins. "Well, lets see if we made a mistake bringing you lot along. Time to earn your money!"

What do you do?

OOC
 
Players are allowed to determine outcomes of attacks on all enemies present except for the two armored foes. The reptiles are to be considered very strong fodder, and the rest of the enemy mass is to be considered fodder; you can determine outcomes of attacks on these enemies without ST input. Be advised that you cannot slay the lizards without a degree of risk to life and limb.

Mid-round combat is available for this round.

The next ST post will be Thursday, March 30th at 12:00 PM (noon) Central time..
Edited by Lachesis, Tue Mar 28, 2017 12:54 am.
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Volare
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So many all at once…lizard-folk…and humans. The leathers they wore somehow served to only piss off Volare even more. Now her own rage boiled just as Shirine’s did for the drow. Barely controlled, she rushed forward with her mate beside her as the new enemies leapt the bridge and bore down heavily upon them. She rushed out ahead of her mate and her wings opened up, displaying a magnificent rainbow of colours that seemed to shimmer in the darkness; they flew back and beat the air before them, sending a powerful wall of wind directly at those closest to the group, before a blinding white star flew out from Ivyn’s Ire to slam into the face of the one at the first one to come near her.

Volare’s wings folded just in time for Shirine’s own attack, and as soon as it had landed, Volare rushed in behind her. Her blade cut upward to catch the throat and jaw of her enemy, who only barely managed to avoid the strike; but while Volare struck high, Shirine struck low, and Volare came down hard upon the lizard-man’s head. Next was a pair of humans, and once more, the pair fought in tandem, striking at their weak points, one attacking while the other defended or otherwise attacking in two places at once. It was a thing of beauty, their almost mesmerizing tandem assault, working like a well-oiled machine. This was more than just two soldiers working well together; there was clearly a bond there that only two people who had spent almost all of their time around one another could have understood, and having fought together numerous times, their strategy seemed quite perfect indeed.

OOC
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Kalim
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Kalim scowled at the dark elf's broken, barely comprehensible common. He had no idea who these "Kobrahl" were, but the drow were clearly too terrified to get specifics out of. "We're gonna need more than-," he began to growl, just as Lorica arrived back, carrying some kind of grotesque craft made out of bone. He only half payed attention to it, but their dark-skinned friends seemed to think it was far more important. Kal tightened the grip on his weapon and took a step forward as one of them approached Lorica, just as a howl filled the air from a distance away.

He spun, jamming his katar back into the sheath on his hip as he scanned the area for enemies. It took an instant to spot them. A horde of humans, accompanied by bizarre reptilian creatures, all wielding black spears and clad in simple armor. A brief pause as he took note of approach, speed, how they marched - a disorganized rabble, really - then a quick nod to himself as he quickly dropped his cloak to the cold stone beneath him.

"Don't move, Novi." The fly dragon couldn't see in the dark, so she had to stay sequestered in his cloak pocket, and she'd likely get hurt if he rushed into battle with her.

To Taeral, he said, "We'll see. We're not miracle workers, and I, at least, am only human." Then, to the others, "I'm going in. Would appreciate the backup. It's obvious who the commanders are, see what you can do about them."

He yanked the crossbow on his back free of it's holdings, dropped his pack to the ground next to his cloak, and retrieved a long harpoon bound to the side of it. Unlike the others beside it, this one's head was a spiky, purple crystal. Thus armed, he jogged towards the approaching enemy, his gaze fixed on the bridge where the humans were walking across.

Their howls pierced his ears as he ran towards them, promising death. A small smile kicked up at the corner of his lips. The thrill of an upcoming battle was in him now. He sharply halted his advance, took in a great deal of air, and met their cries with his own. His own bellow was monstrously loud, echoing above the sound of the approaching forces, an almost perceivable shockwave leaving his mouth to buffet their enemies., He screamed until his throat was hoarse, at the same time taking aim at the center of the bridge. He pulled the trigger; the harpoon fired, striking into the center of the bridge behind the hedge created by Lorica's knives. The ones closest to it triggered the enchanted harpoon, and found themselves suddenly plunging into a deep, wide pit that spanned across the majority of their pathway. Those not in the lead that escaped falling into the trap would at least be slowed while they found their way around it.

Kalim grinned. Then he turned towards the lizards that were leaping across the gorge to assault them. He shook his hands once and muttered a quick word. The gloves encasing his hand morphed, turning into steel. As he rushed towards their enemies, he yanked heavy plates mounted atop his knuckles over his fists.

Moments before entering attack range, he sped up and jerked to the side of a spear and pivoted, putting his momentum behind a left-handed gut punch into his attacker. The plate sprang outwards, and combined with the strength of the blow knocked the reptile backwards and into the dark abyss. He flicked his wrist outward, deflecting another thrust with his gauntlets. Instead of burying itself in his stomach, the spear instead dragged along the bottom of his forearm, cutting a bloody swath into his flesh. Kalim danced backwards, avoiding stabs as they tried to surround him. Using the same wounded arm, he yanked free his sword and swept it forward in a wide arc, forcing his opponents to retreat, and in that brief lull he stepped forward and struck with his right fist. The air around it distorted as his gauntlet buried itself in the creature's sternum. The plate on this one also exploded outward. Assuming these things had a similar anatomy to humanoids, there was enough power behind the strike to shatter it's ribs and crush it's lungs. The displaced air around the blow whipped about, slamming into the nearby enemies, and they suddenly staggered back, gasping at the unexpected pain and pressure against their chests.

More of them were pushing in on him now. He backpedaled, snarling. A grazing slash against his shin, then a stab into his shoulder. The wounds bled openly, but he paid little attention to them. In fact, his attention wasn't even on the enemies harassing him. He was looking toward the large, armored lizards that seemed content to mill at the back of the throng, approaching at a leisurely pace.

"What this, then!?" he roared at them. It was uncertain if they could even understand him, let alone hear him, but the jeering tone in his voice, at least, might turn their heads. "Leading from the rear? Surface commanders are more brave than you cowards!"

OOC
Edited by Kalim, Wed Mar 29, 2017 9:09 pm.
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Shirine
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Shirine watched as Volare moved forward blasting the enemy with wind. Shirine rushed forward. Volare shot a blinding blast. Emerging from behind Volare's folding wings she struck out with her blade. The entire time she had shifted into her were-tiger form. She wanted the extra strengths and agility that the form granted.

She cut at one of the creatures arms and felt a shallow cut, but this thing had some tough skin. She started moving lower as Volare struck high. Shirine brought her sword around strike the creature's legs from behind. The thing went down and Volare finished it with a strong blow to the head. Shirine then moved on to continue the dance of death with her mate as they carved into the enemy.

Spoiler: click to toggle


Shirine's Mercenaries:
They would have some hooded lanterns for light. They do keep a few torches as backups too, but the lanterns are designed to control the amount of light or even hide the light quickly if needed. They do have slightly superior vision in lowlight conditions from race or training, but nothing too special.
Edited by Shirine, Thu Mar 30, 2017 4:37 pm.
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