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Into The Depths; [Minor ST 3]
Topic Started: Wed Mar 15, 2017 11:02 am (2,484 Views)
Volare
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There was only one possible thing that could make Volare even more enraged than she already was in this battle - and the bastard she was attacking from behind had just done it. She threw every last ounce of strength, speed, and ferocity into it that she had. She not only tore out its throat, she ripped it limb from limb after it was dead. She didn’t stop until it was barely recognizable as a former creature, let alone a “person”. And when she was done, she rushed off to find her mate. Only when she found her safe and relatively unharmed would she be soothed even slightly, and even then, it would take her some time to calm herself - less, perhaps, with Shirine’s help.
Volare returned with Shirine just as the last remaining lizard-folk among the group was insulting Keail. She gave Keail a quick look, memorizing his features in an instant, before turning her attention to the lizard-folk. He was apparently an ally, if an unfriendly one. Volare was angry as well, though in a much more controlled manner now; her taut features clearly marked her for one still in battle-mode even without her hand firmly upon her hilt, ready to draw and kill at a moment’s notice. Her eyes were cold and hard, having gotten past the animalistic instincts of a creature whose mate had been casually thrown aside by a reptilian monster.

Throatslitter, the lizard said his name was. A brief exchange was had before a drow stood up nearby and said something that she didn’t understand. But one thing was made clear: these people weren’t just warriors. The one called Keail was…the crowned prince…? Volare eyed him more critically now. It made sense all of a sudden, why the other Dal’mar had to cover his back. His youth made sense as well. He was inexperienced because…what, because he had never been in a real fight - a difficult fight? So because of that, one of the Dal’mar was dead. One of the so-called “elite” warriors was dead because another one was not so elite, after all.

And yet, the one called Mistalee…she had been called “Nobleborn” by Throatslitter…so she was of noble blood, then, just as the crowned Prince here was of royal blood. Both were elven…but the differences were drastic. Thinking back on the battle, from what she had seen of it in her peripheral vision, the woman was a decent shot. She also had the look and the walk of a woman who’d seen more than her fair share of battles. She had not only confidence, but a certain grace about her that didn’t come from walking down a set of well-preened steps draped in finery; it came from the dance of war, a dance Volare had learned all too well since coming here.

In any event, it was not Mistalee that mattered at present, but the deception by way of omission on the part of the Dal’mar.

”What else aren’t you telling us, Dal’mar?” Volare asked of the group in Elvish before anyone could answer Throatslitter.

The Prince stood a little straighter and glared at Volare.

"It is not of the Dal'mar that you should be asking that…Volare, wasn't it?”


Volare nodded curtly.

”They serve me. They have served me the entire time we have been away from the capitol. The Captain did my bidding, as did the rest of them."

He glanced at the great weapon he had used in the fighting and dropped it with a look of disgust.

"We don't have time for me to speak on all of it. Pick your questions, but either way we have to leave or fight more.”


”Then we can speak as we move,” she replied. ”But we should know the Elven affairs with deep-dwelling lizard-folk before too many more of them try to murder us. The elves have been gracious to me, at least, but I will not honour an agreement under false pretenses.”

"These matters are complicated," he replied. "I seek alliance with the Lords Under Stone, who have been at informal war with Norwood and everyone else for hundreds of years. You were hired to retrieve captives. That is part of it, but there is more. I will tell you all that I can once we can stop and rest."

"We should be getting close to 'it' now," he added, seeming as though he was distracted by something.

Volare had been about to say something else when Shirine spoke up beside her; she was asking about the woman that their mercenary group had taken into custody and that had subsequently escaped from that custody. Throatslitter was pissed off when he heard about her, swearing (or so it seemed) in his own language before spitting upon the ground.

"The clan leader of the Na'hill. What we could have learned of them from her...yes, I know her. There is not time to talk about this now. When we are gone from this place will be plenty of time - it is, after all, all connected. I doubt she is headed here specifically. The Na'hill have the arcanotechnicians; she will be heading there first."

A brief exchange then took place between Shirine and the Prince, finishing with him admonishing her rather rudely.

“…if I had not come then this entire mission would be a waste of time,"
he finished.

The Prince touched the short sword at his waist with a reverent hand.

"Taeral knew what he was getting into when he volunteered to come. He died doing what he was sworn to do."

A sudden look of grim determination crossed the prince's face.

"We all do what we have to do."


Finally, Volare chimed in again.

”Excuse me, Prince, but your people hired us - at your discretion, it would seem - without giving us the information we needed to do our jobs properly. Anything that happens to us is on you because of that. So you’d best be honest and open with us from this point forward, or you may find yourself without allies. Your deceit just got your guard needlessly killed, shortening our numbers in a situation that clearly requires them. I mean no offense to the dead, but if nothing else, think of it tactically: you cost the life of a warrior by not informing everyone of your identity right from the start, a bit of information that might have caused us to act differently - perhaps saving Taeral’s life - and now we’re one warrior short. You’re extremely fortunate that we are able to replace that number with Throatslitter, should he choose to join us, but the man’s loss was unnecessary nevertheless. Misinformation or the lack of information is a very good way to get people killed, as you just did, and a very bad way to retain allies - which, at the moment, we are. But again, we could simply choose not to continue this job if this habit of yours persists.

Now, if we’re going to move, then let’s do so. Shirine, I’ll scout from above until there is no space for my wings.”


And with that, she moved away to take flight where she could. She wasn’t put off by the idea that some of the group’s members might not be entirely trustworthy or reliable; that was to be expected when throwing a large group of mercenaries into the fray at the same time. But she would rather not remain near the prince long enough to say something she would probably regret. She couldn’t speak for Shirine, of course, but what she had said was right: at any time, any member of the group - including Shirine and Volare - could simply revoke their participation in the mission. The Prince had clearly not thought of that, or if he had, he clearly did not care. Either way, Volare’s temper was going to get her in trouble soon - hence the scouting. The less time she spent around this Prince, the better for everyone.

OOC
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Kagiso
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Kagiso fell from the ceiling and neatly landed on three points. She rose and listened to the drama unfold. She walked through her horde of allies and stopped between where the Dal-Mar and the mysterious saurian were having a yelling contest. The golem shifted in her cloak and drew out the weapon she had first chosen. A quick snap lit the flame. "We should return to the surface. This group is not large enough nor well equipped enough to take on some unknown segment of the whatever-countries that live down here. I'm also fearful of the quality of our leadership. None of you three have demonstrated anything but worthlessness. Get a new job." Her eyes settled on the prince. "Don't play common soldier. It puts the lives of your fellows at risk."
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Lorica
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Lorica jerked her bloody knife out of the saurian's corpse. "That's what I thought. You're not so tough." She knelt down and rummaged at its remains, searching for anything useful. The Keeper made sure to take as many as the odd, magic-absorbing short spears as the reptile had remaining. She considered trying to salvage its armor as well, but decided it was useless. Even if she could repair the straps, it wouldn't fit her frame well.

The saurian that had come to their assistance suggested they leave. Lorica nodded in agreement. "Yeah, let's not fight more right now. They'll bring back more. Let's pick our fighting ground." She gathered her various blades from around the battlefield before disarming and retrieving her traps.

The reptile confirmed her earlier suspicions by identifying one of the Dal'mar as the mother[removed]ing crown prince of Norwood. She glanced at the reptile. The Keeper gave the saurian a sidelong look. "Throatslitter, eh? Quite a name. How'd you earn that one? What exactly did you do for these guys?"
ST OOC
 
The saurian looks at you with its strange reptilian eyes briefly, Lorica. "I am of the warrior caste of the Al'shari, wildling. How did I earn my name? Rank within the caste - of the warriors at least - is earned by besting your betters. And the higher in the ranks you go, the more brutal the fighting. Do you wish to take a guess how I gained my name, Lorica the Tainted?" He looks at you again, and it almost seems as if he is looking beyond just your features, like he can see the taint of the Wellspring on your soul. Apparently whatever he see's doesn't bother him. "It would be a pleasure to cross blades with a Light-Blinded warrior such as yourself, some day. I have seen you in action. It could be entertaining."

He cast a look at the prince and the surviving Dal'mar, and shrugged. "We serve at the pleasure of the Na'Al'kaef, and the Great One says to do the bidding of these long-ears. At first we protected them from the others. And then everything went south..." He shook his head slowly. "I think we now strive for the same thing, wildling. Perhaps alliance can grow out of solidarity to a mutual threat? I am a warrior, not a philosopher or a scholar, nor a diplomat. There is steel in the long-ears, but it is buried deep." A pause, and then he casts a sideways glance. "Sorry. We keep the others at bay while the tree-dwellers play with their new toy."
"Name the time and place, Scaly."

"You say there's a mutual threat, but I'm not entirely clear what that is. Is it the weapon you let slip through your fingers? Or is it those weird raiders? What the hell do they want?"
ST OOC
 
The Al'shari grins at you. "If we live, a time and place I shall."

The saurian grimaces. "It wasn't supposed to be a weapon, so they say. And I believe them in this." He looks at the Dal'mar who have taken up flanking positions to the prince, and shakes his head. "You must understand that the world of darkness is broken into a hundred shards. There are factions down here. Recently, the wars paused as various leaders...consolidated their holdings. There are only a few factions here, now, in this part of the world, but they are bigger and stronger than they were before." He laughs. "Most of them. The Kobrahl are a pathetic pile of raksa dung, and always have been. The only ones to worry about are the Na'hilland us. And of course, Norwod itself."

"Well, they have the weapon, now, but they do not know how to use it, and neither do we. But they have the technicians now, and they will learn. If we didn't have the thieves penned up, this would probably already be over." Throatslitter looks straight into your eyes and speaks with a shocking frankness. "The Na'hill seek what we Under Stone have always sought: Domination of the World of Light. If they learn how to use and make that weapon...." He didn't ahve to finish the sentence. The result was heavily implied and did not require much thought.
Thankfully, some of the other mercenaries were unhappy with being left in the dark. Kalim and Keelin were both just as pissed as her about the hidden prince in their midst. "I agree with Sandy. We weren't hired to protect royalty. Send him back to the surface. He's a liability."
ST OOC
 
"You agreed to do this mission, Lorica. Send me back, and one of the most important aspects of this mission fails." He looks you straight in the eyes, Lorica His own are steely determination. "I will admit the subterfuge was in poor taste, but it was required."

He paused. "I will not let Norwood be swept aside. You think I am a liability, Lorica? I know something of you. You might be one of the biggest liabilities of all here. And...and yet I need you. Norwood needs you, whether you care about the depth of that need or not. And to succeed in this mission you need me."
Lorica laughed in his face. "Your mission, maybe. I was helped to rescue some engineers. Why the hell would I need royalty along for that? If you wanted me to help with a treaty between you and a bunch of underground lizards you should have included that in the fine print."

"I'm a mercenary, as you're so quick to point out. I'm good at what I do... but it sure as hell isn't out of the goodness of my heart."
She seemed amused by the accusation of her being a liability, but there was a dangerous glint in her eyes when she met the prince's gaze.
ST OOC
 
"Never be a doubt in that twisty head of yours, Lorica, that there will be adequate compensation. The engineers are part of this."
"See, you say that prince, but those engineers are the only part of this shindig I'm contractually obligated to give a [removed] about. You hired a bunch of mercenaries because you couldn't trust the servants that tuck you in at night."

"I'm not some zealot here for the good of Norwood. If you want me to do more than look for these engineers, you better tell me exactly what you want me to do and name a figure. Otherwise I see no reason to keep risking my neck for yours."

"If we're being honest with each other-"
(at this she rolls her eyes to make it abundantly clear she doesn't think this is the case) "-I'm pretty fed up with your half-truths. So I'd think real hard about telling me a good reason not to piss on your crusade and waltz out of here."
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Ahkrum
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The rain of arrows came to a stop, more like a light Summer shower just passing through, but containing death instead of raindrops. When Ahkrum felt confident that it was safe, he emerged from beneath his adopted cover, the shield that had been discarded upon the ground, and took a look around at the dead bodies strewn about the battlefield. His eyes settled on a couple of unusual sights, a bipedal lizard that was not actually trying to fight against them, and one of their escorts having fallen dead. In that moment of covering, it seemed that the bulk of the battle had come to a rather abrupt end, with bodies like pincushions littering the floor.

For now it appeared that the fighting had come to an end. Thankfully L'akolb and Danag were uninjured, somehow Ahkrum had also managed to avoid taking any unfortunate blows from the relative giants. As far as he was concerned, the battle was as clean as it could have been given the circumstances, and now there was little more than aftermath to deal with. It appeared a lizard had joined their side, and that one of their accompaniment was Elvish royalty. Neither of those things interested the Hagaan much, the former simply being a nice tradeoff since apparently they lost one of their escorts, and the latter seeming similar to his own culture save for the apparent prince from hiding his identity. Whether they stood and fight or decided to leave, he was hardly wrathful enough at his core to think he could take on countless enemies in the dark, so he would simply follow whatever major vote happened. No, what had interested Ahkrum far more were weapons strewn about, abandoned by the enemy force that actually did survive, cast out of the hands by fallen foes. Even Ahkrum had noticed they acted peculiarly, magically, and that was of great interest.

Ahkrum would go about the battlefield collecting whatever weapons he could into his Bag of Neverending Space. Despite the difference in size, if used against enemies the greatest thing he would have to worry about would be the relative bulk given his small stature. Still, if the magical properties proved worthwhile enough in combat, then they might more than make up for it.

He picked up one of the spears and noted its glow as he neared it to his bag, pausing for a moment as he examined it. He had thought he saw glowing amidst the enemies before, but had not focused upon it. With a shrug in went the first spear. The second acted similarly, glowing faintly as it neared his enchanted bag. Was it reacting to the magic? He may not have been very studious in that particular subject, but it seemed worth considering, especially wondering to what extent. Did it merely glow in the presence of magic, or would something far worse happen? In went the second, and he grabbed a third as he approached the group of large beings, L'akolb slowly moving to itnercept him. The third also glowed. If this was just a sign that magic was nearby, then could it be a sort of alarm, a sensor for the presence of magic? If so, that could be useful to the Hagaan, easing their ambushes and traps somewhat by letting them know of the approach of pixies. If it was something worse, then what would happen to his bag? Would their enchantments react to one another? That thought gave him pause, and very cautiously he slipped the third spear into the bag. Nothing happened, no explosions, no tearing of his flesh, just another spear deposited. Probably best not to test his luck any further than that.

Finally, Ahkrum came across the Dal'Mar great sword. Big, weighty in the hand, bulky when compared to his size, but it all felt good to him. Oh, it in a battle of agility and fine movement this could do him no good, but for now it seemed a wondrous thing, and best yet nobody seemed too keen on stopping his little mitts from getting on it. What enchantments did this carry? What secrets could the Hagaan learn from it if he could get it back home? Questions that hopefully could be answered in the future, but for now he gave it a couple of safe and idle swings, far from any possible incident of striking others, and then deposited it into his bag along with the spears.

Still no explosions. That was good. Perhaps those spears were merely signals of the presence of magic after all. Maybe they just required more. No point in risking it.

"Return to surface?" Ahkrum questioned as he climbed atop the large spider's back, mostly just for clarification on what he had been hearing while collecting his spoils of battle, "Okay. Battle won as well as could be, good to leave on win. Figure out what next on good ground."
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Mistalee
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Well...this was quickly turning into one hell of a shit show. She glared harshly at Keelin as she directly addressed her. She was very quickly growing to hate the woman and her assumptions about her and the 'higher ups.'

Then there was everything else that was being thrown around. She could not help but think she was surrounded by a bunch of whiny children. Did they really think things would have worked out differently had they known the Prince's identity before entering these tunnels? Or would they have turned tail and fled before things even began?

She truly did not trust most of the people gathered here. Even though she doubted her really needed it, she took a defensive position between her prince and the rest of the mercenaries. "I will be completing this task for my homeland, whatever may happen. Returning to the surface now is a waste of time, and that's not a commodity we have in great supply right now. If the rest of you want to keep standing around, yelling and getting your feelings hurt, be my guest. I for one am not going to continue to stand here and argue while the enemy has to time to regather their forces."

Glancing back to Throatslitter, "I think I know the passage you are talking about. I did a bit of scouting down that route earlier. Please, lead the way."

There was a lot more she wanted to say to them, but she refused to fall into the insult game. What was important for this moment was to get to the safe place, or relatively safe place, where they could get some answers. And there would be answers. While she might be loyal to her nation and her Prince, it was not blind loyalty. She wanted to know what she was getting herself into here.
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Hearne
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Blood spattered across Hearne in a line, sticking to his pale robes and soaking in. The cloth was hardly pristine, the ivory color had faded, the edges long smudged with dirt and grease to near-black. The blood would be no more difficult to get out. Lifting a hand to his mask, he hooked his thumb around the edge and peeled it away, swirls of mist following the iron. He tucked it partly into his robes, the edge showing from beneath the fold. Lifting his hands to his hood, he pulled it down.

Features formed as an illusion went up, face taking on the same appearance he once held with short hair and beard, eyes remaining their many-ringed and runed selves. He pushed down his various eminations, halo fading into darkness and his aura dimming though never quite vanishing completely.

Hearne pulled a pair of small spectacles from a pocket, resting the ground lenses on his nose. Through this rune-ringed view he could see more clearly the specific nuances of enchantment on visible objects. Snatching up one of the spears before his allies could pocket all of them, he studied the enchantments to determine their effects.

Approaching his allies, he wore a small smirk at his friend's outburst. Not so much as taking the effort to look up from his study of the weapon in his hands, he gave a small nod to the prince.

"I hardly feel it is of any concern to us who it is we are traveling with." He wiped a smear of blood from the spear, glancing up over the edge of the spectacles.

"Prince or no, it was our job to come down here to investigate these occurrences. I'm not terribly concerned with another fight, but I would rather prefer not to waste our time with another battle and deplete our resources further. I am here on a job. If royalty wants to come along to play soldier, he puts his own neck on the line. I will not expend extra effort to save your hide if another is in greater danger. I have no problem with you coming along, so long as you understand I do not value your life over that of any other ally." He looked up once again to give the man a direct, dead-eyed stare. "That being said, I would like to see some appreciation for those that signed on to help you on your crusade. A number of our group I can count friends. I will take it as a personal slight if your continue to disrespect those I value."

Hearne kept his stare for a moment before pushing his spectacles up his nose and returning to inspecting. "For the time being, I vote we seek quiet ground to regroup and pick our fight."
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Kalim
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Kalim stood his ground as the blistering hail of bolts slaughtered their enemies. Those that didn't fall immediately were found by the weapons of the others. Behind him, he could hear Lorica and his companions fighting. And when he turned, it was over, with him having nothing to show for the battle save for a handful of scrapes and cuts, the most minor of which were already beginning to heal.

And now they had to wrap their head around this miss. He had regrouped with the others and now glared at Keail's "true form" so to speak. Their Saurian friend, with the wonderfully romantic name of Throatslitter, spoke of some safe place he knew of, and while Kalim didn't much care for the thought of being led about by some creature that looked strikingly similar to the things that had just been trying to kill him, they didn't seem to have any better options.

"Then let's go. There's no point in fighting battles we don't have to, and I want to know more about our enemy before we face them again. And..." Kalim's eyes drifted to the dark-haired elf. "I want to know what possessed the gods damned prince of Norwood to stick his head into this hellhole." He waved a hand dismissively at the friendly Saurian. "Sorry, but we weren't hired to protect nobility. If it's such a travesty for him to die, then he shouldn't have come along in the first place. I'm not going to step in the way of a spear for him. I will not," Kalim jabbed a finger at Taeral's nearby corpse, "End up the same as him. I'll do what I was paid for, and I'll give everything I have to that end, but nothing more." The mercenary stepped away to collect the cloak and crossbow he had discarded before the fighting.

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"I didn't want to come, Kalim, but duty compels me to do so." The prince sighed softly. "You couldn't be told because no one could know of it, at least not until we were well away from any eyes-and-ears of the palace."

Before Seyvel can say more, though, the Al'shari interrupts. "It was the requirement of the Na'Al'kaef that he come, soldier." The saurian eyes Kalim much as he had Lorica. "if he is going to fight for some foreign, Sun-Cursed long-ears, then they will meet in person." He barked a laugh. "Why, we will have him close to hand, and if he plays us false, we will have him close enough to kill. The act of coming into the den of his long-standing enemies to forge peace will speak volumes. We do not reward cowardice; bravery is valued. He can keep his silvery words and platitudes, and prove his request by action and deed instead."

"I do what I must," Seyvel repeated grimly. "My life is not worth as much as that of my kingdom and my people. And so, I am here. I will lay my head on the chopping block to give Norwood a future, if it is called of me."

"In any case, you will find out what exactly it is you are being paid for soon enough. What the long-ears told you is not a lie. It just isn't the whole story." For emphasis, the lizard spat again. "The price of honesty seems rather high," he muttered sourly.


That was all well and good, but it just complicated matters for those that had to keep an eye on him. Kalim paused a moment as he knelt down to retrieve his thing things. He gave a regretful glance at the destroyed bridge; he wouldn't be getting his snare back. Removing his helmet, darkness immediately took over his vision, and he squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he heaved a sigh. Perhaps he was being unreasonable. A soldier had to be willing to adjust to changing conditions. Thing was, those conditions usually involved their enemies, not their allies. Individual mercenaries, like several of their lot seemed to be, had a much stronger nose for danger than most. Information was critical for them; they didn't have others to rely on for support. Having the flimsy base they had built up behind them torn away was enough to put anyone on extreme edge.

Returning his helmet to his head, he stood and shook his cloak roughly as he swung it back on and slung the large crossbow across his back, then retrieved his back. Amazingly, silence greeted the action. It seemed Novi, carefree fool she was, had fallen asleep during the battle; he felt his pocket to make sure she was still there and felt the warm lump that confirmed her presence.

He returned to the others, holding his pack loosely with one hand. Whether he liked it or not, he was in this to the end. Having an entire kingdom's bad word on his record wouldn't do him any favors. "I don't care where we're going, but we need to get moving. Are the drow survivors coming with us? They were already exhausted when they arrived, and then we had to fight. Might just slow us down."
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Shirine
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Shirine had felt the pain of impacting a wall only to find her mate comming at her and spending time as the fight endded calming her. She did retrieve her own fallen sword before rejoining the rest of the group.

Shirine was not pleased with the reveal of royalty being here. It wasn't that fact that the prince was a prince, but that they had been lied to. That was insulting on so many levels as a profesional. She had just finished being thrown into a wall and then calming Volare down.... now this. Who the hell put a VIP into a mission like this without telling the escort. If they were trying to hide rhe prince a bloody rescue mission was bad cover.... actually being subtle in the underground seemed pointless. Just have a proper escort. She wondered if the mission they had been given was even real. Zhe contacted her men and had them retreat and contact for reinforcements from the main camp. Bring up the outside group to a full fity men. She wanted an extraction team. They were to only watch the bandit camp until the reinforcements arrived and then try to move forward slowly until they could contact her again. If they ran into heavy oposition while trying to contact her she wanted them to retreat back out. She expected it would take a couple days... maybe even three days.

Still she nodded with the general consensous and spoke to Throatsliter, "Yes I agree we should get moving and talk along the way. Also Throatsliter you know of these lands and their peopld better than we do. Do you know of ... Shirine gave a description of Ailish of the Na'hill, an Al'kaef of the Lords Under Stone and the information her men had provided about her escape. ....She is probably headed this direction or maybe she is already here. Knowing who or what we are dealing with could help."

Turning to the prince she said, "Also the reason for hidding your presence better be a good one or the good captain died a pointless death. Had we known he might still be alive. For example I could have taken that sort of strike without dying instantly. Still perhaps you had a good reason?"

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"Excuse me, mercenary, I wasn't under the impression I required your permission to do anything, especially in my own kingdom." There was more than a note of anger in Seyvel's voice. "Perhaps you should hold your uncouth tongue until you know something. Suffice it to say, if I had not come then this entire mission would be a waste of time." He touched the short sword at his waist with a reverent hand. "Taeral knew what he was getting into when he volunteered to come. He died doing what he was sworn to do." A sudden look of grim determination crossed the prince's face. "We all do what we have to do."

The saurian cast an eye at the prince, and shook its head. But he came up short at the description of the woman you give, Shirine, and a sour look appears on his face. "You had her in your possession? And you let her get away?" He said something in his own tongue that was probably not very nice, and then spat. "The clan leader of the Na'hill. What we could have learned of them from her...yes, I know her. There is not time to talk about this now. When we are gone from this place will be plenty of time - it is, after all, all connected." He gave a wry grin at the were-tigress. "I doubt she is headed here specifically. The Na'hill have the arcanotechnicians; she will be heading there first."


Shirine cursed at both this arogent prince and at learning how big a loss lossing that woman was. She had seemed so injured and Shirine hax felt pity. She should have secured her better...hidlndsight was always perfect of course. Shirine did know that helping did backfire at times, but sometimes she could not help it. She had been helpless once and if not for a kind healer who took in a broken escaped slave she might not be alive today.


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"I didn't want to come, Kalim, but duty compels me to do so." The prince sighed softly. "You couldn't be told because no one could know of it, at least not until we were well away from any eyes-and-ears of the palace."

Before Seyvel can say more, though, the Al'shari interrupts. "It was the requirement of the Na'Al'kaef that he come, soldier." The saurian eyes Kalim much as he had Lorica. "if he is going to fight for some foreign, Sun-Cursed long-ears, then they will meet in person." He barked a laugh. "Why, we will have him close to hand, and if he plays us false, we will have him close enough to kill. The act of coming into the den of his long-standing enemies to forge peace will speak volumes. We do not reward cowardice; bravery is valued. He can keep his silvery words and platitudes, and prove his request by action and deed instead."

"I do what I must," Seyvel repeated grimly. "My life is not worth as much as that of my kingdom and my people. And so, I am here. I will lay my head on the chopping block to give Norwood a future, if it is called of me."

"In any case, you will find out what exactly it is you are being paid for soon enough. What the long-ears told you is not a lie. It just isn't the whole story." For emphasis, the lizard spat again. "The price of honesty seems rather high," he muttered sourly.


Shirine finally saw a piece if the truth when she heard these words. "Well at least the reason was half decent and you show some guts comming as you are for your country. A good goal. Still do not mistake bravery for wisdom or royal power as being better than others. Both assumptions will get you killed. Your current actions of hidding everything even after it is revealed is like that of a drow. They destroy themselves with such stupid actions. Politics like this just gets soldiers killed...often time pointlessly... though it sounds like perhaps this time it wasn't an entirely pointless death. I hate freaking politics.

Oh and Prince think on this if you will. I have been a mercenary all my life and I lived through more than I think most would ever want to. I won't be nice, but I will be honest. So listen when those with more experince in these situations speak. Learn from it and get better. I may be uncouth, but right now I am one of your life lines. If I was a different person that insult may have lost you two powerful allies in this mission as Volare would follow me. You do not insult those under your command as a soldier and even more so as a potential monarch and expect them to stay loyal. From the sounds of things a few already want to leave for the surface, when we probably don't have the time. Though I will see this mission through regardless, as Norwood needs this. Remember treat all your men with respect and you will earn more respect for yourself. I do hope you can survive and learn from this."


Shirine hopped they would get to this safe area soon and this prince was far too young. He needed another hundred years to grow up. Well this mission might forge him a bit. Real world did that at times. Still he had hope given he was motivated. Though also cclearly in a tough spot. Politics made everyone it touched worse off. It disturbered her how close to the methodes of the filthy drow this was... no those creatures took things to twisted levels one could not imagine. Still even getting a little close to a drow's way of thinking was dangerous. Having to hide so deeply from your own people. Still he needed to show respect to others especially in dangerous situations or he really might find himself with out any help.
Edited by Shirine, Wed Apr 5, 2017 6:17 pm.
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Lachesis[ST]
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Throatslitter glanced at you, Kalim, and nods. "Better to keep them under our eye for the moment. The other option is gutting them and leaving them for the scavengers to clean up. I don't know about you, but I've had my fill of killing for the day. Please keep an eye on them, though; don't let them slip away." The two dark-skinned long-ears shuddered. Throughout they had looked at the Al'shari with something approaching fear, an attribute not often associated with the dreaded drow. In fact, they tried to keep their distance from the saurian altogether, weapons - such that they had - stowed.

And then he looked to the angel-hunter. The look on his face was...not exactly friendly. "You will have all the choice your Light-Blinded heart could desire soon, elf-kin."

"You all do not agree with the choices I have made," Seyvel said as they began to move across the bridge, Mistalee and Throatslitter in the lead. "Were that I could have chosen a different route. But I have thought long and hard on this, you must understand. The last two years have been the worst, but the problem that I - we - face is something that has been growing for thirty or more."

He looked at Kagiso, and nodded curtly. "Truth, some of that. But not all. Even if we could amass a large enough force, it wouldn't matter. We were not lying when we said that might was not the way to solve this issue. We have tried overwhelming force. The people we ran into back there" - he indicates the site of the battleground - "are a rabble by comparison. Sling your various barbs, but I had no choice."

"We do not have time or breath for idle chatter right now," said the saurian, slowing to chide the group. "Save it for safety. If you want to flee back to your bright world, you can choose to do so from there. Until then, be silent and move swiftly." With a curt nod, as if they had all agreed, he moves back up with the nobleborn woman from above.




The way is anything but straightforward. As promised, the Al'shari leads you to the right of the road and into the buildings. Their haunting, gaping windows lend an air of mystery to this place, but he doesn't tarry. The partially filled tunnel proves to be where he said it was, and from that point onward, it becomes difficult to track the turnings and twisting of the tunnels that he leads you along. Many of them are like the one you walked into the ancient city through, clear highways from a forgotten civilization. Just as many of them, however, are rough hewn. In fact, they look very much like mines, drifts twisting and climbing, sloping downard at seeming random. Bits and pieces of glittering black material can be seen in some of the stone revealed by the cut path, though of clearly low quality.

As you move onward, you begin to feel something. Your senses, if you have them, draw a blank as to what it is, but the feeling is all too much like creeping doom in your mind.

Time passes, and your only company is each other and the sound of your echoing footfalls. Suddenly, though, you see exactly what it was that this Throatslitter meant when he said safety.

You drop into another of those ancient roads, this one in extremely poor repair. The passage is filled with debris, broken stone and dirt, some twenty yards from where the drift you have been following for half an hour exits. Another hundred yards in the other direction, the path opens into a spacious cavern with a few two- and three-story buildings, carved from the living stone of this place. There are three other tunnels leading off at right angles to one another from here.

They, like the passage you now come through, are guarded. This position is not devoid of people. You can see almost immediately that there are a dozen or so of the Al'shari present, but there are also humans and elves, and all of them are attired the same as Throatslitter: overlapping plate mail of that same gleaming black material. They are also armed similarly, bucklers and short stabbing spears tipped in that black material. A few sport swords and crossbows, more of the latter than the former. The two standing guard at the barricade to your tunnel are difficult to see, but as you draw near you are able to make them out. An elf, and a Al'shari, who casts its eyes to the stone as its feet as Throatslitter passes. That worthy is looking calmly at the other, but the other will not meet his gaze.

Throatslitter gestures to a pair of humans who are standing near a smokeles fire, upon which is supported a grate and a pot of what is probably tea. He indicates the two drow, and they nod and quickly gather those two up, and pull them off into another building. "They will interrogate them and see if they have anything useful to say," the saurian said in a conversational tone. "We have other business to attend to. Please follow me."

Seyvel hung back with Tyrist and Zilyana, engaged in an animated discussion. Bits of hat conversation occasionally float to your ears, but it sounds more like recriminations against the prince than the other way around Likely, the words that the mercenaries have said strike far more truth with the Dal'mar than they do the prince himself. They are not happy about the loss of one of their own, but they are also under no illusion that the prince was at fault for what happened, either. The Kobrahl were not supposed to be where they had been, and if not for the drow, they would never have crossed paths.

"The best laid plans, Highness, seldom last beyond the first arrow leaving the string." It was Zilyana who said this with a certain wry bitterness in her tone. "If not for them, that would have ended....poorly."

He leads you to the two story building. It is of some size, and easily accomdates all of you. Within the doorway - there is no door - is as spartan a room as can be imagined. There are no furnishings, as such; merely pillows and rugs piled onto the floor to give places to sit or lie down in such comfort as could be had down this far beneath the world. A stairwell leads to the upper floor. "There is sleeping quarters up there, if you require them. We do not go in for many luxuries in our world, Outworlders. Wood doesn't last down here - the acursed beetles eat anything organic except that which is made from the stone-plant fiber. Don't let the name fool you, though." The saurian went to a pile of cushions, and sat on them cross-legged, grinning at all of you as he does so. "Be at your ease. I believe our princeling has some things to say."

The Truth Shall Make Ye Fret [Everyone]

Prince Seyvel goes and leans against one of the far walls. Despite all the walking, he doesn't look weary, or at least not physically. He regards each of you where you choose to repose for this meeting. It is time for a real briefing and, perhaps, some explanations.

"You are all released of your contractual obligations." The words are flat, but sincere. "Only those who are willing to see this through to the end should be bound to it, and I have not been very...forthcoming. I beg of you to sit, and listen, before you make your decision."

The prince sighs, and scrubs a hand through his dark hair. "I am sorry that I could not be more open until now. Lorica makes a good point - I cannot trust the people that, as she put it, 'tuck me in at night' though," he cast a glance at her, "it has been a long time since I have needed such services."

"I apologize if I have to give you a little history. It will help make some things clearer. Everyone here knows that my kingdom is not the strongest of the nations, and there is a reason for it. We have been at war for hundreds of years, just not with an enemy that any of the other nations care about. It has bled our peoples dry of sons lost in fights that never amount to anything." He looks at each of you. "My father has been King for a long time now. A hundred seventy three years to be precise. And he has lost his appetite for the fighting, and has drawn Norwood ever more inward, becoming increasingly isolationist in his view of the outer world. Norwood has lost touch, or at least her ruler has."

"It is something I have thought of for thirty years or more. And, more recently, as the world around us began to become substantially less stable...even more. I have tried talking to father, to make him see that hiding from the world will not save us from it. He refuses to listen. He thinks we can hide behind our walls indefinitely, and that the world will pass us by."

"Right, because an enemy that doesn't move is more difficult to corner and destroy," said Throatslitter sourly. "And so, one day, a group of Norwood engineers entered ur world without our permission. They were seeking this," he said, and pointed to his armor. The black material gleamed in the darkness. "Auracite. It is a thing we have long known of, and a thing the elves discovered in their various 'wars' against our people. Only with the recent advent of ever higher arcane technology was a proper use, as you would call it, found for the stuff."

The prince nodded. "It has unique properties. When Striberg fell to the Abnatheans and revealed their manaspike, we thought of how similar this material is to their arcane device. And so we tried to replicate it."

"Without the knowledge of your king, of course." The saurian sneered.

"Because he would have put a stop to it. Tradition is all my father cares about. And look what it is getting us! Balefire crosses our borders and takes our land and our people, and we do little. The threat of the Katai Union cannot be overlooked, and there is also the Balefire-Striberg-Cascadia alliance to concern ourselves with. We have staunch enemies, whether they have declared themselves such or not, all around us."

"We would have gladly killed the invaders, of course," said the Al'shari. "Except, for once, we listened to them before they were killed. They promised us many things, and fulfilled them one by one." The saurian pats his armor, grinning. "The crafting of this style of armor, and a method with which to refine the auracite into a material for our weapons and armor. The auracite has unique properties that make it well suited to dealings with some of our deeper enemies."

"We found other uses for the auracite, too. We couldn't duplicate the manaspike that the others used so...we stole one."

"That was an incredibly entertaining mission, too." Throatslitter was clearly enjoying his memories, and must have been involved in it. "Only now, I wish I could take it back. Some boxes should not be opened."

The prince grimaced, and made a warding gesture. "The ultimate result was a union between auracite and a manaspike. That earthquake that rocked Norwood some weeks ago was not natural. It wasn't intentional, either, but it was disastrous. We were trying to gain a way to control mana on a scale that the King Halen brought to Imythess, and instead we created a weapon that destroys it."

There is silence for a moment to let that sink in. And then it is broken by Seyvel, adding a new layer to the horror.

"The Cunein were the protectors of the Cellar - our lab, deep in the underground. A kind of alliance had been forged between Norwood - on my behalf - and the Cunein alliance and its Na'Al'Kaef, Iosuf Cuineain. Just before the explosion, though, the Na'hill made a raid...."

"The Na'hill," Throatslitter began, "are another loose alliance of clans in this dark world. The Cunein is another alliance of such people. If it wasn't for Norwood aide, it is likely the Cunein would be dust, now. The long-ears do not add a lot to the scales, but they add enough to make the Na'hill much more cautious."

"The Cunein have trapped the raiding party that hit the Cellar, but osion that followed that did great damage to our watchdogs." Tyrist's voice was unexpected. "There were three prototypes of this weapon that was never supposed to be; the Na'hill secured two of them, and detonated one of them. As far as we know, they are trapped in the tunnels with the Cunein standing guard to ensure that they do not escape easily, but the Na'hill are talented borers. They will escape eventually, if they haven't already."

"They cannot be allowed to have that weapon!" The prince was vehement. "But even if they have that one, it is not so dangerous. They are unlikely to give it to any other, and they lack the necessary skill to make another."

"They did, anyway," Throatslitter chimed in. "Don't forget, it was the Na'hill that raided your Sun-Cursed cities and stole away technicians. Those engineers will do what they are told, eventually."

"And don't forget the other little jewel," Zilyana murmured.

Seyvel was silent for a long minute. "There are...things, that this weapon does. On its own, it isn't horrifically destrcutive...but..."

"Something about what happens after," the saurian said, nodding. "It kills magic. It kills magic down to the smallest level, undermining things that you would never believe could be."

"Its why the rescue efforts in northwestern Norwood have been so slow. The effect is pervasive. It has become much weaker in the last week or so, but it is still present. And it will be a problem."

He looks to all of you. "I have not been true to you, but I am being so now. You were each picked because of your abilities, in particular your ability to handle adversity. Change is coming to Norwood, but I need your help. We need to retrieve what was left behind in the Cellar and the people trapped there, and the weapon that was stolen. And we also need to retrieve our engineers before they can mate the engineers with the weapon and learn how to make more of these things."

"Or you can return to the surface, and leave us to face this. An army would not do for this mission. A few highly specialized and talented people, though...."

"If you have any questions, ask them. We should probably rest before we decide to do anything else, though. The way forward will be challenging."

OOC
 
The next ST post will be Monday, April 10th, at 5:00 PM

This round marks the beginning of a breather round. Three objectives will be added to the OOC discussion to log the three tasks that need to be completed. Feel free to interact with any of the NPCs (those you have already met, and those outside the building whom you have not yet). Also feel free to interact with each other.

I will post once a day at a minimum except for Saturday, when I will be on the road.
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Ahkrum
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Ahkrum was never an individual prized for his intellect, but things seemed simple enough to understand. The elves had created weapons, big and dangerous, and one of those weapons, those apparently magic-killing weapons, had done its job just not when they wanted. They put at risk everybody in Norwood with some new-fangled enchanted device that they barely understood, somehow managed to make, and then lost control of. What was worse that there not merely one, this was not something that was nestled firmly in the past, but remained as an ongoing threat. That was it, was it not?

The elves in their desperation and foolishness had threatened not just everybody and everything in Norwood with their devices, but the Hagaan people, Ahkrum's people. He could honestly could not care less for the other denizens of the trees save the spiders, but this was just stupid and ridiculous.

Then was said the most ridiculous thing Ahkrum had heard.

One woman yelled at him, threatened lives of engineers. Another warned the first, and if things came down to it, then Ahkrum would likely side with the second, but for all of the rage it was not fury that Ahkrum felt.

You were each picked because of your abilities, in particular your ability to handle adversity.

Ahkrum could not help himself. He burst out into big guffaws, far bigger than it might have seemed his small body should have been capable of. He fell back on the pillow that he had claimed as his seat, kicking his legs and holding his sides together, as if the very force of his amusement would have torn him apart if he was not careful.

"HAHAHA! PICKED-- PICKED FOR--- HAHAHA! HANDLE! HAHAHA! PICKED FOR--- HAHAHA! ABILITY TO HANDLE! HA! HAAA HAHAHAHA! ADVERSITY! HA! HAHA! HAHAHAHAAAHAHAHA!" He continued laughing. So far the greatest threat of adversity to this group was internal, the infighting, the coarseness of differing personalities and positions fighting against each other. Respect practically ounceless, and the elite elves not having helped that in the least, but rather fueling it further. Maybe the prince really was that silly, that ignorant, that he did not see the humor in it like Ahkrum did, but the Hagaan just had to laugh. He felt he might have burst if he did not, "PRINCE SERIOUS?! AHHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAHAAHAHA!"

It took the fae a moment to die down from his guffawing at the expense of the Norwood royalty, but he could not help himself. He found that just too ridiculous to be anything other than hilarious. When he did finally calm down, he sat up on the pillow that he had claimed and took a few deep breaths, some lingering chuckles passing his teeth.

"Disorganized. Tense. No teamwork. Fumbling. Capable together only with space." Ahkrum, a big grin on his face, still spitting a few chuckles as he spoke, "Hired, mostly mercenary intent. Some actual mercenaries. Handling adversity? This force IS adversity. Ahkrum see through end, fine; not expecting much. On good side, worst enemy for this force, itself!"

relevant
Edited by Ahkrum, Mon Apr 10, 2017 4:22 pm.
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Shirine
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Volare
 

((Note that Volare's actions at the end of the following do not indicate me withdrawing her. They are purely IC. Also note that Shirine is the only person she probably will not attack right now if followed.))

True to her word, Volare flew until she could do so no longer. Then she remained close to Shirine, not saying a word. It was comforting to be in Shirine’s presence when she was around others, especially those with whom she was unfamiliar, and the Dal’mar were perhaps the strangest among them in their semi-uniformity. Everyone else was completely different, save Volare and Shirine. Remaining in her hybrid form the entire time, Volare remained alert. Hearne had changed quite a bit since last she had seen the man, and she wasn’t entirely certain that he even remembered her; the only elves here were ones that she had never seen, let alone met (other than Shirine, of course); the other mercenaries were not a part of Shirine’s group; and the Dal’mar, as of yet, had not shown themselves to be trustworthy. They could fight, yes, but seemed no more capable than the mercenaries they had hired. The only advantage here was in numbers.

And then there was the saurian to consider. The dark elves she did not ponder long at all, but the saurian…turning against his own people…or perhaps the saurians were tribal. That would make sense, considering this one was obviously allied with the group that had entered this place, however temporarily. And when they reached the populated caverns at last, the saurian proved not to be the only one bearing his particular armour and weaponry; there were others here who formed a kind of uniformity as well. Whether clan or tribe, it mattered not; the point was that they were together, and that meant additional forces. This only added to the depth of the deceit by omission of the Prince and his fellow Dal’mar. Trust had to be earned, and the Dal’mar had not made their worth known to Volare. The answers they would soon provide had best be adequate, or Shirine and Volare were right: people might start leaving out of spite, if for no other reason.

“Mercenary” was not a synonym for “beholden”.

The Prince soon addressed them, but it was the saurian who made her scowl sourly. Shirine knew well why Volare hated humans: they were greedy, ambitious, deceitful fools - the ones she had encountered, anyway - who sought only their own advancement. That was why they had attempted to “trade” with those of Gwyllion. That was why, in the end, they had demanded rather than asked more and more of them - until it had led to war. They had tried to master the people of Gwyllion, and through them, nature itself. War was…difficult. There were different rules for people than there were during peace-times, and those rules often negated the morality of individuals and groups alike. She did not know the nature of this war in its entirety, of course, but she did know that assaulting a people solely to take their resources was a treacherous and evil thing to do. Volare had experienced this first-hand, only her oppressors had been far more insidious - or perhaps the elves of Norwood had tried the same tactics, which had led to their war. At this point, it did not matter. The suggestion alone pissed her off.

The more the Prince spoke, the angrier Volare became. So it was not just humans…these elves, under the Prince’s direction and without the input of their king, had attempted to move beyond simply utilizing the resources of the natural world. They had moved far beyond simply focusing mana with their manaspikes; they had used this auracite to cause widespread devastation. They were no better than the humans that had attacked Gwyllion, trying to control what was not theirs to command! Elves were supposed to be protectors of nature, not masters of it! Nature’s bounty granted gifts to those who respected it, not those who tried to make it their own living weapon! Volare wasn’t merely angry now; she was outraged, seething, her fists balled, her teeth gritted, and her blood practically boiling. It took all the self-control that she had not to unsheathe Ivyn’s Ire - and that self-control was waning fast.

And underlying its destructive power, the weapon that they had created murdered the very thing that was an integral part of much of the world - and its inhabitants. It was too much. Volare simply could not contain her anger any longer.

”YOU ARROGANT, GREEDY, AMBITIOUS, IDIOTIC FOOLS!” she spat convulsively at the Prince in Fae-Tongue, taking a step forward.

She switched to Elvish next, but her words were no less accusatory.

”Do you even begin to realize what you’ve started?! Do you have any idea the damage you’ve caused?! Even if we prevent this weapon from being remade, do you think others will not take your lead?! And you assume we will simply accept that you have this disgusting thing and rescue your precious engineers; what then, Prince? What will you do with the weapon then? Kill everything that challenges your kingdom? Render the rest of Chaon a wasteland just to protect your people? You tamper with things we are not meant to tamper with, and you want us to help you! The only reason I would even go near your engineers is to kill them so that they cannot make another, and I’ve a mind to seek this weapon of yours and destroy it as well! It is the same thing all over again…all over again…”

She had receded back into Fae-Tongue with those last few words and turned away in a fury. The only thing she wanted to do was tear the elf-prince limb from limb, staining the stone with his blood and filling the smokeless air with his dying screams. All this time, she had hated humans with such a passion, when the very elves that she had thought close to nature and amicable enough were no better than those that had tried to twist the lands of Gwyllion to their own desires. These Norwood elves were no better than them, and Volare found herself hating them with every fibre of her being. It was a good thing she had left to find some place less populated, or she might have caused some real damage just then.

Perhaps the Dal’mar did not know what it was that had set her off so much, but Shirine did, and Shirine was probably the only reason the Prince was still alive and unharmed at this point. Volare stormed off into the darkness, drawing Ivyn’s Ire. She wanted to strike something until it was dead or rubble, and she didn’t particularly care which.


ST
 
Seyvel looked to the mercenary captain, and shook his head. "I recommend you speak to your subordinate. If that beast wishes to kill my people, then I and my people will stand against her."


Mist
 

In silence she listened as the prince spoke and explained the situation, with Throatsplitter adding addition input. She could not help but smirk just a little bit when he mentioned that the king had no idea what he was doing. The rebellious noblewoman knew what it was like to want to buck tradition.

When the events in Striberg were mentioned, her lips tighten into a grimace. She recalled that chaos vividly. The fact that Balefire, Striberg, and Cascadia had aligned themselves together had made her very uneasy. While she did not fully approved on what the Prince had tried to do, she understood the reasons. One of those nations shared a boarder with them...and feelings towards them was not always pleasant. He had been trying to protect his nation and his people.

Apparently someone else could not grasp that concept. The one called Volare started shouting in a language she didn't know before switching to elvish. As the woman spoke, the elf woman grew more and more angry. The final straw was when the hot-headed woman stated she would kill the engineers.

Her voice was low as she spoke, but deadly, "If that is your plan...then I shall never let you near them," she said, hand gripping her bow.

After the fool let the room, she looked the Shirine. "Talk reason into her," she said still in her deadly tone. "If she attempts to kill anyone from my nation, she will have to go through me first."

The elf woman took a few deep breaths, calming herself. If that fool of a woman continued to travel with them, she would keep an eye on her. "That woman we saw...mentioned something about keeping away from the cellar. I assume this is what she was talking about," she said, voice much more calm now. She sighed, "I was in Striberg when all that happened...I saw what that manaspike did. While I do not think it was wise to try and create such a thing, we can't let it fall into the wrong hands. Despite how Volare yelled...she did make one point. Perhaps it would best if these weapons were destroyed so that they can't be misused. And what do you mean by kills magic? Similar to magic nullifying abilities or an anti-magic field?"

She ran her hand through her golden hair. What was with her luck and ending up in situations like this? A small smile graced her face once more. "Striberg...Istan...I have placed myself in harms way trying to protect both those nations," she said in a bemused tone. "What sort of person would I be if I was not willing to do the same for my own homeland? Regardless of what the others decide, I will do everything I can to aid you, Your Highness."


ST
 
"It was never our intent to create a weapon such as this. Our intent was to reproduce the mana spike and use that to our advantage." The Prince grimaced. "Although I will use what we have found, even by accident. Balefire is already invading our kingdom. Maybe this will give them pause."

"And its not like it isn't on the same scale of other things you Light-Blinded fools have come up with," Throatslitter added. "We have heard of Istani weaponry, and others."

"When I say kills magic..." Suddenly, he scrubbed a hand through his hair. "The device pulls all available mana from an immense region. All of it, every last trace even to the point of shifting Leylines temporarily. We haven't really researched the full effects - we never created the thing by intent in the first place, and we didn't activate it either. The effect is not permanent, though...the region appears to be recovering."


So much being said and shirine responded, "I shall talk to my mate. This was clearly a mistaken creation, but still something that needs to never be used again. She lost her entire home to humans who burned it for who knows what reasons. I do not mean a town I mean her entire country and knows of no other survivors. Now she finds her second home tampering with things and nearly destroying it's self. I ask for understanding as I calm her rage. The wounds are fresher than I had hoped.... love makes one blind at times. Still I will be calm her and do my best to make her understand your view as well.

However my prince you said you would use this again. I beg you not to. Some traditions are outdated, but sometimes there are reasons for them too. We are long lived and many elves have tight conection to nature. I do not blame you in researching the manaspike, but it should have been to find something better, not something even stronger. Look at the lands it has touched. Cascadia once beautiful is covered in foul polution it's lake tainted. One of us has seen something terrible in stribergs invovlvement. This technology may give us power, but we may lose what we mean to protect in the first place. It is possible magic will be affected in unexpected ways that may make things worse ten or twenty years down the line. Make alliances and end old grudges, but do not be as short sighted as the lands around us. Act with wisdom and forsight not out if fear like I think you are. Show us all a true prince we can follow.

We can find other better ways and technologies than what you have discovered. Perhaps consult with more elder spirits of nature. Some may aid us more than you would think. The Katai Union has some interesting potential too. Perhaps rather than aproaching them as enemies you can maybe make friends with them and learn some of their skills. We have not offended them and from the little i have heard they seem closer to nature than many other nations and may be more compatible or willing to share information with our own culture. Though I may be wrong. I have only heard rummors. Still my point is do not just look towards one the one flawed solution you might have found. Find as many options as possible and maybe you will discover something truely unique that still grant our Kingdom true power. Well I should go find Volare.


Shirine left after Volare after saying her bit. The prince was disapointing her further. He was,shirtsighted and scared. It was not what an elf should be. Still he had some points. Their nation needed change, just not using this destructive technology that was maybe just as damaging to themselves as it was to their enemies. What was this world turning into. Finding Volare she pulled her aside to calm her down. "Volare calm down. The experiment was a mistake of youth and fear. He fears for his land and people that is surrounded by enemies and seems to be losing to the changes around them. He is desperate to protect his land. In his own way he is trying to do his best and failed hard. Do not be angry for a mistake. That prince must live with those consiquences. It is a terrible thing and he is trying to rationalize the horror of what he did. He wants to use the item, perhaps because it is powerful and maybe using it will make that losses in the first trsgedy with something. The tragedy gave a weapon to defend his land with. A wrong way of thinking. Another youthful mistake.... Calm yourself and be the elder. Try to help the boy and let him learn. He deserves a chance to be a better person and he can't do it without wiser help. Not anger, but wisdom. We can only hope he listens. His mistakes are too great as a prince to be repeated. At the very least we must find the weapons and the engineers. So...."

Shirine would,continue to try and calm her mate and hopefully they could rejoin the coversation in a civil way. She just hopped Volare would keep it together long enough for them to find these weapons.
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Mistalee
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She nodded to Shirine. "I can understand her feelings to some degree. I pray that We can all be more reasonable from here on out and not let anger rule our decisions."

While she still had her people and her country, she did know what it was like to have someone precious ripped away through greed and violence. Still...she felt Volare's out burst was well out of line. She just hoped the group could move on and actually work together to get this job done.

As Seyvel explained more about the weapon and how it drained magic, she bit her lip. That did not sound good at all. "Even if it's not permanent...I still think that such a thing is too dangerous," she advised, hoping that the prince didn't mind her speaking her mind. He had put up with worse than her questions and in put so far. "Even if the land can recover, there is still much old and ancient magic that we don't fully understand. If that were to be disrupted by this weapon...there is no knowing what effects it could have upon the land. Could even that temporary draining of magic have long lasting effects that we can't predict?"

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Volare
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((No need to include my OOC stuff here, as Shirine has already quoted it in her post.))

Volare was seething. The fewer targets she saw for her blade, the angrier she became. A year had passed, and yet she still knew the agony of all that she had lost and suffered as though she had only just escaped from it. The cold-iron chains, the humans and their unbridled lasciviousness, the loss of her wings, the vast destruction, the countless deaths, the complete shifting of entire regions like a plague gradually changing someone’s features…and the elves of this land were no better. They were seeking greater power for war, when they should be fortifying nature itself rather than seeking to take more from it than what it had to give. And then Shirine was there.

She couldn’t help but round on her, but she did not mean for her anger to wound the woman she had come to love.

”It is no different than in Gwyllion, Shirine!” she raged, her anger targeting the elven prince rather than her mate.

With a great effort, she forcefully sheathed Ivyn’s Ire, turning away from Shirine. It took everything she had to focus on her meditative practices, controlling her anger - it was like she was starting all over again. It was difficult, it was painful…but it was necessary. When she was at least no longer ready to take someone’s head off with the slightest provocation, she turned back slowly. Rage still danced in her eyes, mingled with hatred drawn from pain that was far deeper than her flesh and her blood and her bones, but she was at least somewhat communicable now.

”You already know that the humans began to trade with us,” she told her mate, ”that they brought us things we had never seen before - arcanotech that let them build their homes quickly and efficiently. We did not agree with their methods - clearing away patches of soil filled with what they called weeds just so that they could replace them with their own edible plants, rather than taking what nature gave them. But they made their peace with us - at first. They kept showing us more of their fancy things, and then they started asking us for the use of our magic to make their lives easier. They wanted more and more of our magic, our knowledge of the land, wanted to learn how to fly as we did…and then they started taking things, such as murdering some of the sentient creatures who could not speak for food. We disagreed, and the disagreements only grew until the humans started becoming militant. Things devolved quickly after that.

“You know all of this, of course. I’ve also told you that the humans should not have been able to overcome us so easily. The reason they did was that they were utilizing anti-magic and arcanotech. But they were also drawing magic from the lands that surrounded them to fuel their machinery, and the more we resisted, the more they pressed us, until they crossed some lines that should never have been crossed - hunting the creatures and beings that were more like them than like animals, destroying entire meadows and even leveling hills just to make more room for more humans to come. They were trying to make Gwyllion their own, the current residents be damned to the Abyss for all they cared. Early on in the war they started, the humans began channeling as much of our natural leylines as possible into their weaponry, turning our own mana against us. Things began to die that should not have…things that weren’t even involved in the fight to defend our lands…

“It was how they killed and enslaved us in the end, Shirine,”
she finished. ”It was a war of attrition, and the humans were far more experienced at such a war than we were. They took everything from us, used it against us, and murdered the wilderness in the process. Now there is only death in that place…and I do not even know what became of Ellyllon, though I can certainly guess. Now the elves, mistaken in youth or not, are attempting to do something terrifyingly similar. Do you really think the prince’s engineers will listen to us? Or the prince himself? He’s looking only to protect his people, unconcerned with the outside world - they all seemed to be. You heard the way the Dal’mar spoke, especially the prince himself. They couldn’t care less who lives or dies as long as it’s not elf-blood; it’s not their concern.

“So I think I have a very good reason to be angry, Shirine. But it’s more than just anger. I’m terrified of what they will do with this weapon of theirs. Worse…I’m horrified that they created it in the first place. And elves, of all people, should know better.”


It wasn’t an attack on Shirine, of course. That wasn’t her intent. But she made a point: elves were connected with nature and magic on a fundamental level. They should have known better than to tamper with such things without knowing what they were doing. They should have known a lot better.

((Looks like Volare will be going after the engineers with Shirine. She will hold off on killing them until necessary, of course. 8P))
Edited by Volare, Sun Apr 16, 2017 4:50 pm.
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Kalim
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Kalim merely sat, his chin in a hand as he listened to the prince spin his tale. He wasn't particularly shocked about the revelation, unlike several of his comrades. This was the truth of war; manpower was only one facet, the other being who had the biggest stick so to speak. Of course, it didn't take long for others to voice their complaints, or in Ahkrum's case, a shockingly loud string of guffaws considering his small body. He found himself rubbing his temple and glaring at Volare as she stormed off, and a sharp bark of laughter came from his throat at Shirine's idea of making friends with the Katai Union. As she left, he stood and looked around at those that remained.

"I've made a decision," he announced. "I need the money from this job. Gonna go build myself a fortress far, far away from everyone and all their damned death weapons." It was impossible to tell if he was joking; his face was completely blank. He shrugged, and some semblance of emotion returned to his face as he glanced at Throatslitter. "I'm gonna go make sure Volare isn't trying to murder your little settlement."

He stepped outside and looked around, but the winged elf was nowhere to be seen. All the better, then. Eyeing the teapot that the humans had abandoned to deal with the drow, he grabbed one of their discarded mugs and poured himself a cup. Grimacing at the bitterness, he sat himself down and looked around the settlement as he waited for their group to decide on what their next move was.
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Lachesis[ST]
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"Then perhaps we should destroy it," Seyvel replied after Shirine and Mistalee had said their piece. He did not sound entirely convinced, but that was not too surprising. A weapon was what he desired, something that would give his land an edge against the coming horror of war. That grim specter was not long off in coming.

People drifted off, and the Prince looked at the few who remained. He had a clearly distracted mien, as if he was lost in deep thought. "Perhaps it would be best if we got some rest. You will need to decide what precisely it is you wish to do next. So far all I have managed to cause is more problems than I am solving."

"You could always do what you came down here to do in the first place, Royalborn," the saurian replied. "Do that, and leave the dirty work to us."

The prince was silent.

"Your kind are not good at these things, Highborn. But me and mine...we are. And I have little doubt that these fellows are just as good at it. You are supposed to be a peacemaker, a pact-binder - you should attend to that." He repeated himself, and knew it, but he also knew that the young were sometimes foolhardy. Seyvel was hardly a child - but he was also still young for an elf. Species didn;t make much difference in regards to the proclivities of individuals, by age or otherwise. People were, after all, people.

Throatslitter turns to the few of you that are left. "Discuss among yourselves which task you wish to accomplish first. You can take some of us with you, or not. That is your call. As soon as you decide where you wish to go first, we can get a move on. Don't be afraid to talk with people within this camp, though - we are gruff people, but we have valuable experience and knowledge of the area and its people." He grinned in a feral kind of way.

"I would personally like to go with you, if you would have me." That said, the saurian turned and stalked off, ostensibly to get some shut eye.

OOC
 
The next ST post will be Sunday, April 16th at 2:00 PM Central Time.

Many apologies for the shortness of this post, but I failed to get the objective up so that you could all discuss and choose a path to take. I have suffered immense computer troubles since arriving in South Carolina on vacation. As is stated in the OOC discussion, anyone who did not post for the last round will not be penalized for perfect participation, and the last round will not count in the total of three allowed missed posts in a row.

As always, the OOC discussion is available for use; I will be on the road all day Friday from 4 or 5 in the morning until after midnight, but will be home afterwards.

Again, many apologies for the briefness of this post and for not being a very good ST this last few days!
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