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Fantasy Ballad of Renegades

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A sound like steel dragging stone pierced the ears of any who were within the confines of the Sanctuary--clicks and chitters, the drag of something large across dust-rotten books and decaying wood. Echoes. Something jammed together and the resulting sound was like two steel puzzle pieces gnashing together in powerful harmony; noise that sent the hairs standing up on one's neck. Another click. Like a tongue rolling around someone's mouth, but the resulting sound was searching for something, some disturbance in its home.

CLICK.

CLICK.
CLICK.
CLICK.

CLICK.

The stone floor shook with an exertion of force as the sound of rock shattering boomed from inside the library as something creaked its way up the wall with quaking strides. A noise like a thousand daggers scraping the wall as something clambered onto the walkway from which Aris, Bal', and Khadija had come from. It was dark--almost too far even for those with better vision, but one could make out a great shadow that occupied an already black space. Wood splintered up as the impression of a great body propped on two--four--eight spires positioned itself to occupy the entirety of the walkway. It ventured closer--two eyes as white as pearls parting the midnight veil in the unlit parts of the ruin, before stopping once more.

CLICK.
CLICK.
CLICK.
CLICK.
CLICK.
CLICK.

The chomping of something just under the eyes made a noise that vibrated through the air with such force each member in the room could feel it in their bones. This time, though, the noises were followed by another that sounded almost like a large cricket singing, and again the creature brushed closer--the spire-like legs arching forward so that it needn't move at all; boards cracked and whined under the redistribution of weight.

CLICK.
CLICK.

A head was finally visible through the shadow as eight pale eyes scattered across its flesh and spun to face in opposite directions as if the creature was trying to use whatever it could of its light-forgotten vision, but then the cricket sound echoed louder produced by hairs that stood several inches from the surface of grey exoskeleton that shook with an exertion of force from the creature. Finally, its head snapped in an instant to face Bal' who was the closest to the door.

CLICK.
CLICK.

It staggered forth now revealing its full self. The Spider was the size of the horse outside, legs hardened with a carapace that traded a stealthy glid for a sharpness like eight great-swords, a stinger mounted on its back that protruded from its body like a spear but could be thrust forward like a bolt from a ballista. Its jaws crashed together to make that now-familiar clicking sound-- the mandibles linking together almost like bolt-cutters meant to shear armor and hide. It towered high and as it made a slow shuffle through the door its legs upended the floor with cracks and spewing of stone.

It started on its slow advance toward Bal'.


 
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SHERAGA THE LEPER
GROUP 1:
Corn Orc Vandal Corn Orc Vandal Daylight Fantasy Daylight Fantasy Tool Tool Aegis Aegis
Amidst the commotion, much had happened; the newcomer managed to leverage—and damage—some rapport with this Mikaela, not exactly helped by the sharp spear tip hovering near the bandit captain's throat. The joint effort seemed to help, though it left the pilgrim seething, given the mockery he received before Mikaela departed. A faint grumbling emanated from within his closed helmet.

As Arnou went through his sales pitch, the yellow-clad warrior replaced the black mace on his belt and the scroll in his bag. It was difficult to tell if he was paying attention, save for his initial silence. "Then we would do well to leave town as soon as possible," the pilgrim pointed out before producing a small paper sleeve, half-full of hardtack. Payment. Closer inspection revealed slips of parchment separated each piece, ensuring the cleanliness of the next.

"Sheraga. We have much to discuss on our way to the Conclave. Come, Kellid; I need to know more about your 'prophecy'." He hesitated to believe the words that came out of his own mouth, let alone hers. Prophecies were something only Nurite nuns supposedly received. Then again, that wouldn't be the first myth he debunked in his travels. "And you, sir..." he added, gesturing to the mild-mannered scholar. "Methinks you're also guilty by proxy now, but... you're also bound for the Conclave, yes? Are you staying with us?" He punctuated his question with a muffled cough.
 
Khadija Aslan​
Group 2 ( BlueXBlood BlueXBlood , Zazz Zazz , Xen6n Xen6n , Aegis Aegis )​


Khadija watched as Aris scribbled in the journal, eager to read the woman's thoughts. Another exchange, pipe for journal. Khadija chuckled at the contents within, looking to Bal.

"I can tell the 'brute' will be an interesting companion."

"Interesting? Really? I haven't seen any indication of the sorts," Khadija replied with a grin. The bard found great pleasure in teasing Bal, even if the jokes at her expense went unnoticed.

"As for the sanctuary, I intend to do all of those things to some degree. Repairing the sanctuary and discovering its secrets all play a role in refining my own paradise here. I want to make a home of this place, to make way for any other aspirations that follow."

Khadija simply nodded at this last piece of information as she reclined further onto her side, propped up with one elbow while taking slow drags from the pipe while smoke curled lazily from her parted lips. It was not quite as she'd hoped; Aris seemed to have more interest in escaping the world rather than delving into its secrets, but the Seeker's intentions were honest, and there was little doubt in Khadija's mind that Aris was lying about being a member of the Order.

The bard slid the journal back to Aris across the dust-covered floor and listened to Bal's story, such as it was. The warrior seemed reluctant to tell it, and Khadija wondered why the gladiator shared it on command. They were all equals here, and she could have easily refused. The story was a brief, grim affair lacking on details, as she'd expected, but it colored more of Prigalla's brutish ways. Slavery from birth. Public executions as "justice." Khadija didn't know what to think of Bal's admission. She knew nothing of the three murders, and figured pressing for details wouldn't be wise. The bard assumed that Bal killed her masters or slave drivers, which, to her, was justice. She doubted the Prigallans would see it as such though.

"Well, your story is certainly lacking artistic flourish. I think it requires a more fitting end; maybe a brilliant musician and her noble companions come to the warrior's aid? That might do," Khadija suggested with a wink. The smoke lay heavy on the ground with unnatural thickness, making it appear as though the bard was resting on a dark storm cloud. A familiar warmth was growing within her, and everything within the room seemed brighter, more vibrant. Shapes were blurring around the edges, though this could be from the potent Çılgın şeyler or just fatigue. Khadija felt she could fall asleep at will, even on the unforgiving floor with her aching muscles.

A clicking sound. Then more. Scraping.

"Something else is in this place."

Khadija slowly drew herself up into a sitting position, straining to hear anything beyond whistling wind and settling floors. She caught a whisper of movement that raised the hairs on the nape of her neck. R'hllor wouldn't skulk about the Sanctuary in this way, and she didn't bother calling out. It was something else. Khadija got to her feet and drew her saber as the awful sounds grew, no longer distant, but right outside their room.

With her keen eyes, she made it out in the darkness. No shade this, but a chittering, chitinous beast on blade-like legs, punching through floorboards as it skittered forth. Fear rose in her throat and she swallowed hard, as if to bury the terror into her gut. The slouching creature crept under the doorway and cautiously approached Bal. She's not wearing her armor, Khadija thought with a tinge of dread. She'd watched the gladiator fight in the arena, slay monstrosities like the horrible one before them, but she was wounded now and without her gear. Do something.

"Close. Your. Eyes," Khadija whispered to her companions, taking a deep breath.

"HEY! Look here, you overgrown pest!" The bard's voice boomed with unnatural volume. As the creature turned its bulbous head towards her, she flung out her hand and from the tips of her fingers erupted a riotous burst of vivid colors. Bands of light fanned out, flying throughout the room, each hue a dagger to the senses, and hopefully, to the spider's numerous eyes.

 
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Group 2 - Aris, R'hllor, Khadija, and Bal'Kafaz
The Southwestern Sanctuary of the Order ​


As the grotesque creature sauntered into the room, resonating with ungodly sounds, Aris slowly rose to her feet, quietly drawing out her revolver and sword. Though its attention seemed to be on Bal' for the moment, a pang of dread ached from within the half-elf's chest, as though the creature was staring into her own soul instead. Calm yourself, Aris... That is what she told herself. With a deep inhale, she held her breath for a moment before softly exhaling again, steeling her heart and her mind for the encounter at hand.

"Close. Your. Eyes," whispered the Bard, and though hesitant, Aris put her faith in her companion, shutting her eyes firmly.

"HEY! Look here, you overgrown pest!"

At the Bard's utterance, them was immediately lit with an iridescent eruption, assaulting the eyes and leaving any beholder utterly dazed. Even Aris, with her eyes shut, was driven to reinforce them with her forearm, lest she be mute and blind. The sheer magnitude of the spell caught the seeker by surprise... Though it may be nothing more than a theatrical display at its root, it was evident that Khadija was deeply familiar with the powers available to her. Her booming voice and explosive show of colors were by no means a trivial force.

In the moment that it ceased, Aris was cued to strike, a tether of intuition aligning the point of her revolver with the ugly head of the spider. Then, immediately, BANG. Aris pulled the trigger, releasing the cold, piercing steel of the round. As she watched the bullet fly, she then holstered the firearm and gripped the bastardsword tightly with both hands, her adrenaline rising as she readied herself for the rush of combat.

As the bullet made contact with the spider's flesh, the steel burst through the edge of its head, causing the creature to echo a gutteral wail of agony. The result, however, was far from what the Seeker was hoping for, as the most it had done was increase the disgustingly unnerving appearance of the creature, not slay it as she would have hoped. It was left to the sword, then, to shave the life from it, but Aris knew it would be more of an ordeal than simple words of tactics could describe. And so, she waited for how the creature would respond, watching for an opportunity to strike with her blade.

Though the creature may very well try, Aris had already concluded... She would not allow it to harm the gladiator or the bard.


 
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GROUP 2: Corn Orc Vandal Corn Orc Vandal BlueXBlood BlueXBlood Xen6n Xen6n Aegis Aegis

_____________

The great beast of a spider came as slightly less of a surprise for the gladiator; the dusty spiderwebs she'd broken down had, after all, been rather thick. Finding it alive, however, had not been on her to do list. Bal'kafaz eyed the creature as it approached, and met it's gaze as it snapped it's head in her direction. Was it hungry, or just curious? Was it afraid of them?

But it was suddenly too late to ponder the creature's temperament, because Khadija yelled far too loudly for a normal person, and colourful light promptly assaulted the small space. Bal' swore and instinctively raised her arm to protect her eyes, shutting them just a second too late. She staggered backwards, dagger held in front of herself while she tried to blink back her eyesight. A resounding bang erupted from Aris' general direction, followed closely by the sound of squelching flesh in front of her. The sounds it made were miserable and wild.

"Break it's legs at the joints," she shouted blindly. "I can't see!"
 
GROUP 1
Goonfire Goonfire Corn Orc Vandal Corn Orc Vandal Aegis Aegis Daylight Fantasy Daylight Fantasy

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Arrrr-nooooo talked about making enemies, making a point to warn her, the Sick Man in Yellow Metal, and Raven Hair about the dangers of the island. Annik had no idea what he was talking about; it was Scar Face who'd turned tail and run, and not because Scar Face had been convinced by an abundance of words. Scar Face had been scared to die.

Next, Arnou offered to protect them with his life, in exchange for food, materials, or weapons. In that order.

Why?

With a weapon, one could get food. With materials - a category so broad that it covered every possible item on the island that was not food, weapon, or living creature - one could make any one of a number of things to acquire food. So..... why ask for food first? Arnou didn't look like he was actively starving. Was he incapable of feeding himself? Annik did not answer the man's offer, but Raven Hair did. Raven Hair said it was a pleasure. Was Raven Hair talking about Arnou? Why? What about this interaction had heretofore been pleasurable?

Bah.

The Sick Man in Yellow Metal spoke next, and in amongst an opinion of speed that Annik happened to share, the Sick Man in Yellow Metal gave Arnou payment of food. It smelled like stale food.....

The Sick Man in Yellow Metal said a handful of words Annik did not know: Sheraga, probably something having to do with either agreement or haste based on context; Conclave, which very much was a place, as Annik had heard this word many times in this ridiculous city; and Proxy, which had something to do with guilt. The Sick Man in Yellow Metal asked Raven Hair whether or not the latter would be staying with them. Was the Raven Hair a stranger, then?

At last, the Sick Man in Yellow Metal asked about the prophecy. Finally, familiar ground. Annik's speech was halting on account of the language barrier, but grand in cadence. It was the voice of a storyteller, more at home around a fire than on a beach in the lazy daylight. This was a voice of legends and quests, not conversation.

"Three turns of the moon ago, I sought the council of Omak the Wise. I survived the Valley of Bones and walked the Cave of Stars until I came out the other side and into the Jotun Hills, home of giants who eat men. There, at the base of the river...... I found her." This seemed to be a point of some pride to the girl, her shoulders standing a little straighter and her chin a little firmer.

"Omak the Wise spoke to me of our people and the dangers they face. We spoke of many things...... but Civilization is the greatest and most difficult enemy of the Kellid. It eats and eats, and no one realizes they are being eaten."

Annik made a munching motion with her free hand, demonstrating the notion of being eaten alive as best she could.

"Omak the Wise saw this, also. I...... I wanted to know how to stop it. I needed to know how to stop it. Somebody needs to know how to stop it, otherwise none of the Kellid will survive, and we will become nothing more than memory." Genuine, passionate emotion filled her words, and whatever else might guide her actions, it was patently obvious that Annik believed.

"Omak told me one of the prophecies of a Karwi Shwadar. I..... am believed to be a Karwi Shwadar, the latest in a long line of them. The prophecy said the Karwi would travel into warmer places, along the edge of the largest river in the world and into a land of plague and despair and unnatural ways. There, the Karwi would find a man plagued by sickness, wrapped in yellow metal. It would be with him........ with you...... that her journey would begin."

A wide, easy sweep of her arm encompassed the whole of the island.

"I am here, in this place, and there is much disease and despair. We are along the largest river in the world. Its name is the sea. And...... you are here. You are the Sick Man in Yellow Metal, and I will remain by your side until the Wild shows me otherwise."
 
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“Woah…”

R'hllor stalked around the opulent chamber full of books and lost literature, muttering to himself as the library came into full view. The library was much larger than he had anticipated, and even though it seems unlikely, it is conceivable that it may have been. This Sanctuary appears to have been created by an architectural genius; it truly does seem magical. And it was quite difficult to find skills like that. He doesn't think anyone could pull off an accomplishment like that.

Moving deeper inside, he saw that, like the other areas of the library, mother nature had taken over the entire space. His fears were confirmed when he opened a stiff, dusty book that he had taken off a wall shelf. The length of time the books were kept there combined with the weather's humid atmosphere probably caused them to start to deteriorate.

His disappointment was understandable, but there was still a chance that some books might have survived. Some types of paper can endure for centuries in nearly any type of weather while maintaining their contents. He knew he could pull off a few rescues.

He moved to the middle of the library, where a big table was positioned, and raised his hands, stretched out in front of him. He cast the Massentear's Levitation Spell on every book and scroll in the library, drawing upon the extra dimensional energy required from beyond.

On command numerous tomes and scrolls were lifted from the shelf and floated throughout the large space. Unfortunately, a whirlwind of dust and cobwebs permeated the air and rushed throughout the library due to the abrupt rush of books being removed from their hundred-year repose. R'hllor had a coughing fit, covering his nose and mouth with his sleeve, closing his eyes, and biding his time for the dust to clear.

Maintaining the spell on the books, he fanned the remaining dust from his face and started going through each one, scroll by scroll, to see if any had survived the many years of stasis. When he continued his hunt, he would stumble and nearly fall on his face, but he would catch himself when he saw something stick to his boot.

“What in the eight circles of hell…”

His initial outcry was one of annoyance, but as he noticed an unusually thick cobweb, it quickly changed to interest and finally dread. His gaze followed its source, and the sight before him did not ease his tension in the slightest. Massive and extremely dense cobwebs woven high into the ceiling, resembling a massive silk nest made by spiders.

In response to that, he instantly pivoted and started making his way out of the library, but not before igniting the webs and summoning a steady fire from his hands. It was precise and powerful enough to burn only the webs, and it quickly swelled to a roaring mass of ember that satisfied him.

As he moved quickly down the empty hallways, he heard a scream reverberate across the space. It took him a while to figure out where the others were because of how big and far the Sanctuary was, which annoyed him.

As soon as he turned the corner and entered the chamber, he saw Aris grabbing a sword ready to swing it at the monstrosity that stood in front of them. In addition, he witnessed the ferocious orc shielding her eyes, prompting her to cry out that she was blind, which made him wonder if the spider was to blame. Without giving it much thought, he noticed that Khadija appeared to be alright, and he let out a breath of relief because, for the time being, everyone was okay.

“ነዐ፱ነ” (Open)

He spoke the word like it was meant to be spoken, it came naturally to him. A demonic word that was beyond the capabilities of any mortal tongue and difficult to comprehend even when spoken. From his right palm, flames of black and azure shot out, replacing the regular crackling sound with quiet screams and whispers that some could miss.

A wall of abyssal flames rose high, dividing the spider from the others, as a massive blast of hell-fire burnt its way between them. R'hllor intended to form a shield to give the others room and prevent the spider from trying to charge at them. At last approaching them, his hand still burning, he rested his other hand on Bal'kafaz’ shoulder to keep her motionless and from moving too far, even though he still didn't know what blinded her.

“Is everyone okay? I was just on my way to you when I found the heap of cobwebs that vermin left in the library.”​

 
SOUTHWEST SANCTUARY
Group 2 ( BlueXBlood BlueXBlood Corn Orc Vandal Corn Orc Vandal Xen6n Xen6n Zazz Zazz )​


Terror had built in the hearts of the party as their breath caught before the hideous creature. Its slow advance adding pressure to the lake of fear in their hearts as it rushed against the dam of restraint that had knotted itself in their throats, and for a still moment it seemed as though they would be trapped as statues with no party willing to move--the Spider having draw to death-like stillness just feet away from Bal'. However, as the tension grated on the nerves of everyone present, the dam that had been holding back the fear burst giving birth to action that came in the form of resistance.

A mighty roar echoed in the form of a taunt as the Spider staggered back--its thick hair flaring at once causing the previously cricket-like noises to devolve into a sound like chalk against a board, but the shout was only for a moment and then the room was drowned in a bright color. Most of the party was temporarily taken aback by the explosion of light. However, amid the ocean, the Spider parted it with ease--milky white and opaque eyes as simple window dressing. It marched forward with a fury toward the source of the previous thundering noise, Khadija, who had stood in place and launched forward an assault with its two forward legs. Each limb swiped forward from opposite directions--one closer to the floor and the other at about torso-height, as though the Spider was trying to hug her. Yet, they were sharpened weapons meant to cleave flesh. The mandibles over its mouth snapped as it went in for a guaranteed bite, but a snap-shot from Aris blew one of them nearly free as it hung from tendons and skin stuck to the rest of its face before it loosed a terrible screech that pierced the ears.

The Spider swung two of its side legs at Aris in a similar arc to hit--the tightness of the room making dodging a prospect for only the particularly acrobatic. Bunk beds and other debris only added to the frustration.

However, as its impacts threw stone and wood and debris, a wall of flames erupted that obscured the Spider from making a full assessment of the damage even as it retreated its legs back to its side--the fire already blistering its exposed skin. It tried to poke its face through as R'hllor spoke, but all that made it through was a few eyes that shriveled and popped like bags of puss before it reared back on its legs and howled once more. It seemed properly dissuaded from making a frontal assault.

It would still make an assault, though. As R'hllor finished speaking to Bal', a torrent of webbing like a fishing net cast itself through the flame--the silky threads igniting in the hell flame. However, they did not shrivel and turn to ash. The threads began to melt into a more liquid substance as it flung forward toward R'hllor and Bal' sporting a napalm-like consistency that left a trail of black-hot liquid.

 
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Group 2 - Aris, R'hllor, Khadija, and Bal'Kafaz
The Southwestern Sanctuary of the Order ​


Aris' satisfaction was silent as she interrupted the spider's assault on Khadija since it only took a moment for everyone to return to danger. Immediately, two of its legs swiped in her direction, threatening to slice right through her. In a spur of instinct, she threw herself out of the way, praying that the creature's attack might miss her. Rolling onto her knees again, she attempted to refocus herself, only to feel a stinging pain in her side. The spider's leg had grazed her, most definitely... but she didn't have the opportunity to evaluate her wound.

"Break its legs at the joints, I can't see!"

Then, in came the mage.

“Is everyone okay? I was just on my way to you when I found the heap of cobwebs that vermin left in the library.”

Aris shot a glance at R'hllor as he entered the scene with hellfire, the flames erupting in a wall before them. To his inquiry, she gave a firm nod before facing the adversary in front of them again. Entrusting the grip of her sword to one hand, she spared a moment to give gestures to the mage and to the bard. To R'hllor, she pointed two fingers before aiming her thumb at herself. Watch me, is what the gesture most simply implied, as she hoped that his magic might cover her as she prepared to engage with the monster. Then, looking at Khadija, Aris caught a glance of her unsheathed saber, prompting the half-elf to invite her beside her with a gesture of her head. Those were the instructions her first instincts devised... Whether or not they were reliable, the party would find out, if they so chose to trust her. Regardless, Aris had given communication its time, and the rest was left for the others to improvise. Her only focus now was playing her part in slaying the creature.

Suddenly, out from the fire spewed a thick web that melted in the heat, falling upon R'hllor and Bal'. The hellfire then dispersed, once again revealing the monstrosity's ugly form. In that instant, Aris dashed toward the spider with her blade gliding along the air. Her light steps carried her to its hideous face, where she planted her feet and let the momentum of her advance drive her sword in an arc. The first strike barely cleaved the flesh of its head, cueing her sword to fall and rise again in a fluid following slash. From the initial blow, however, the creature staggered, and Aris' sword fell instead on its leg, scraping against its steel-like carapace. The flow of the exchange then shifted as the spider rebounded in an oppressive stomp toward the Seeker, heaving its body aggressively over her. Overwhelmed, she was forced to leap back again and again to avoid the crushing and piercing weight of its many legs, driving her into a steady retreat.

It was ironic, though, that amidst the rush of combat, Aris' mind was more clear than at any other time. Though physically, she was frantic, mentally, she was keen and sharp as ever. Her instincts puppeteered her movement, and her intuition guided her sword hand, hacking at the sturdy shell of the abomination that pursued her. To her good fortune, patience was on her side, and the half-elf did not permit the rush of the moment to dull her senses. Instead, she held to this cycle of dodging and cutting, even though she could only chip away at the creature's defense.

The direction of the fight was beginning to betray R'hllor's intentions of protecting Bal' and the rest of them, though, as the spider was beginning to close the distance once more, unnerving the half-elf and disrupting her concentration. Aris couldn't allow this.. but unfortunately, she was already at risk while engaging with the creature in the first place. As one leg raised itself to pierce her, she drove her sword upward into its joint, barely dodging another that came down to strike her as she tore the blade out again. Her swift movements, evidently interrupted, soon began to look more like desperate responses as she battled against the many deadly limbs of the creature. Her fate rested on whether or not the others could find the opportunity to join the fray and tip the scales in their favor...


 
GROUP 2: Corn Orc Vandal Corn Orc Vandal BlueXBlood BlueXBlood Xen6n Xen6n Aegis Aegis
_________________

The creature made some of the most hideous noises Bal'kafaz had heard. The blinded half-elf rubbed at her closed eyes with one hand, the other with her dagger ready and useless. She heard the sudden roar of flames, felt the heat on her skin, and fear rose in her throat. Bal' felt helpless, and she hated it.

Xen6n said:
At last approaching them, his hand still burning, he rested his other hand on Bal'kafaz’ shoulder to keep her motionless and from moving too far, even though he still didn't know what blinded her.

“Is everyone okay? I was just on my way to you when I found the heap of cobwebs that vermin left in the library.”
Click to expand...


Just as a speckle of eyesight started to return, something gripped her unarmored shoulder. Without a thought, Bal'kafaz grabbed it and flung it off, shoving R'hllor into the wall with all the force of an angry bull. It was only after the sound of his body making contact with the wall that she realized it was him. Bal' grunted an elven swear and extended a hand to help heave him back up.

But it was then that a hot, sticky, flaming substance was shot at her back. Fortunately for R'hllor, she blocked most of it with her own body.

Bal'kafaz screamed.

In the sudden agonizing pain, the dagger fell from her hand; her whole body spasmed and shook. A second later, she was scrambling to rip her flaming shirt from her torso. The large half-elf threw herself at a stone wall, trying but failing to put out the flames, instead squishing the molten webbing across more of her left arm, burning the flesh. The smell would have been nauseating, if she'd had the wherewithal to make use of her nose.

In a moment of crazed clarity, Bal'kafaz scooped up her blade with a trembling hand and a steady grip. With the little eyesight she had regained, she scraped as much as she could off of her arm - likely taking some skin, but she didn't know or care. Finally, her grip hard and her knuckles white, she bolted for the spider, dagger raised, and jumped to land the flaming dagger into the beast's back.
 
GROUP 3
HAMMERFIST CITADEL
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AriAriAbabwa AriAriAbabwa @escapist @Rohan​
The scribe listened carefully to their conversations and tall tales. Nadi—a mere stranger apologizing for splashing vomit on people's feet, at this point—was not too forthcoming, earning him a careful, scrutinizing stare from the dwarven woman. Maude's list of crimes, however, caused her eyebrows to slowly rise with each word. By then, there was no going back on what was already said. "You said 'murder' thri—You know what? Nevermind; I won't give you reason to list that a fourth time," she sighed; though she still sounded nervous, one could practically hear the smile forming under the mask.

Finally, it was Jac'aal retelling a lengthy tale of a bar brawl that turned into a witch trial. The story dragged on... and on... and on. The scribe eventually started to lean against the wall, looking exasperated. By the time he finished, the words, "I see," couldn't leave her mouth fast enough. "Well, you may just—"

The screech of a metal gate rang out over the crowd, eliciting a soft gasp from her. "I must go. Just know this: Where there's a whip, there's a way." As she spoke the cryptic phrase, she lifted her sleeve. There, around her wrist, was a white string bracelet. Swiftly, she darted back to the desk to resume writing in the logbook.

At the same time, a hush fell over the cell block as unseen people wearing heavy boots marched closer, armor and keys jingling, electricity crackling. Their pace slowed, as if they were appraising their captives. A sinister, deep voice that made one's skin crawl mused, "That one looks strong... Pathetic, pathetic." The shuffling crept closer; it was a truly repugnant act, the jailers appraising prisoners as though they were shopping.

Finally, they showed their faces before the three people's cells. Among the guards stood one dwarf, his breastplate over-decorated with complex engravings and jewels. His helmet bore a round, glowing, fiery red jewel set in the forehead, and he bore a staff too short to be called anything more than a rod by humans. In his other hand, he held the cooked leg of some bird, a bite taken from its meat. He scanned the mismatched trio with narrowed eyes, nodding slowly. "I sense power from this cell," he stated before ripping another hunk of meat off the bone with his crooked teeth.

"M'lord, these were the two... 'odd ones' I mentioned," one of the slavers piped up, pointing to Maude and Jac'aal.

"Pfah! Odd, indeed. Even freakish," the 'lord' sneered, bits of crispy skin and saliva droplets spraying from his mouth. His eyes settled on Nadi. "What about this one, though?" As he studied the thief's features, his eyes settled on the ears barely protruding from under that dark, greasy hair. "Ohoh! A knife-ear!" he exclaimed giddily. "I will take all three of them. Break their will and their bodies, so their souls will beg for release! And then... take them to my laboratory when they are ready!"

"Yes, Chief Hammerfist." With the order given and the lord departing, the guards, numbering seven in total, arranged themselves in a concave semicircle in front of the cell. One of them swung the door open. "MOVE, swine!"

———

The flogging went on for hours, yet it felt like days. Three bruised, battered bodies with their shoes confiscated and burlap sacks over their heads hung from the ceiling by chains. Three torturers lashed them mercilessly with sticks and whips. The pain was intense and the loss of sight meant they couldn't mentally prepare before feeling the impacts on their backs, abdomens, and thighs.

Finally, after they exhausted themselves, it was time for these oppressors to take a break. Two new people entered, by the sound of their footsteps. The chains slowly lowered the captives to the floor, just before pairs of callused hands lifted the bags. These dwarven men looked just like the hooded jailers, but the black whips they held at eye level featured a thin white stripe along their lengths. When they were sure they were alone with the captives, one of them said in a baritone voice, "No mistaking them. These are the ones Fiona spoke of."

"Then we'd better work quickly. Cut them," the other replied in a lighter tenor. Though the order sounded grave, the two of them took out pens and narrow bottles. The viscous 'ink' inside was a deep red, like blood. With precision, they layered the gel-like substance onto the lower legs of each person, right where the Achilles' tendon was most prominent. Before long, it looked as though they had been hamstrung. "Hope you're good actors. Don't let them see that your tendons are still attached, friends," the other whispered as he finished by dripping this fake blood down their heels and onto the floor and plucking the anti-magic choker from around Maude's neck.

When their work was finished, they pulled the hoods back down over the prisoners' heads and turned the crank until they were once again suspended. They waited almost an hour until the three guards returned, at which point they struck the captives again for show. "They broke down and begged for death pretty easily. I guess cutting their tendons was the straw that broke the horse's back," the deeper-voiced impostor informed them. "That one bastard has a face like a horse... if said face was smashed with a brick. The treatment will be a mercy to us all."

"Oh, finally!" one of the jailers howled through raucous laughter. "These experiments are getting obnoxious. Got us working extra hard, just so the Chief can execute them or they can flee."

Their head sacks were once again ripped off, by a crude female torturer. "It is not execution, and you'll be the next one hanging here if you question the efficacy of Chief Hammerfist's magic," she scolded him. "Besides, the one that fled was shot and killed. Now, call the guards! We will have them drag these slags to his study."

The handling was horribly rough as the guards rounded up Hammerfist's three test subjects. They dragged their captives by their bound arms onto an elevator headed down into the sub-levels of the citadel. The heat rose the deeper they went, until it reached a sweltering crescendo at the bottom. Squeaky metal double doors swung open, echoing throughout the room hewn from stone. Multiple distinct rhythms of metal striking metal immediately assaulted their ears at once in a great, syncopated cacophony. Imprisoned dwarves hammered and filed away at various steel components and weapons. Each dwarf was not shackled, yet the collars they wore glowed with several runes corresponding to totems placed next to their stations. In the back of the room, draped over a closet door handle, was a whip with a faint white stripe. This was not the group's final stop, however.

Further the three were dragged, until they came to rest on a much smoother floor in a boiling hot room away from the ruckus. The huge chamber was seemingly hewn from the earth. Mechanical clicking noises echoed from all around as an array of mechanical arms with fiery red glyphs in the components worked to assemble a dozen humanoid bodies from steel parts. The frames' chest plates sat ajar, revealing etched blue crystal spheres inside. At the rear of the workshop was a highly decorated frame of dwarven proportions, a round divot on its forehead.

The pudgy lord sat aside his plate of skewered meats and observed as the guards discarded their prisoners onto metal tables, then extended the legs with the pull of a lever. The surfaces raised until he could stare into his test subjects' eyes. "Leave me," he ordered the jailers before turning to boast:
"Rejoice and submit, vermin. You have been chosen by me, Chief Jern Hammerfist, to better contribute to society. You are here for crimes punishable by death. You are wretched and your bodies are deformed and hideous, but superior Kupari engineering paired with the greatest of my spells will ensure your minds and souls will not go to waste. You... will become immortal workers, unaffected by age and illness... and, of course, you can stop eating our precious food."​

With a series of gestures from the master, the various arms above sent three of the lifeless metal bodies along metal tracks, coming to rest before each 'table'. Each was hastily customized, tailored to roughly match the proportions of Maude, Nadi, and Jac'aal. Hammerfist then opened his book to a bookmarked page, pacing among the tables as he chose his first victim. While making the decision, he made some key mistakes, leaving his staff leaning near Jac'aal's table, a ceremonial dagger next to Nadi, and not checking anyone's legs or that Maude still wore the choker. Certainly, these little errors were about to seal the hasty slaver's fate...
 
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Arnou Sylvain, The Wolf in the West
Agonos Isles, Atychía
GROUP 1 ( Tool Tool Corn Orc Vandal Corn Orc Vandal Goonfire Goonfire Daylight Fantasy Daylight Fantasy )​


Saying that there was a lack of initial reaction to his offer would be an understatement as he stood in a silence that matched their own--uncertain eyes trailing between each other as it seemed none among them were acquainted well enough to draw support from one another. It seemed to have fallen on deaf ears as each person kept to their own and focused on what they seemed to know about things so far, and so the tension in their breathless lungs continued to build. And build. And build. It was an awkward moment as Arnou went to release a sigh and turn to carry on his way; there was still much to be done in his day including finding something to eat lest he lie awake tonight with naught but the unbearable pangs of hunger. It couldn't be said that he was weak or by any means starving but one day's worth of missed meals was enough to start the lethargy. Considering how small his portions usually were, he couldn't afford to waste any moment where he could be elsewhere working for the day. Food was a scarce commodity as none was grown or harvested here.

Yet, then the Raven-Haired man spoke. Something about him was disarming and his demeanor was fair and polite which prompted Arnou to respond almost as if he would back when he was an active noble practicing in court, with a small bow and smile, "It is a pleasure."

Soon after, the man in armor introduced himself as Sheraga and offered a bag of hard tack which caused a brow to cock on Arnou's forehead, but he accepted with a quickness to his grab. Food was hard to come across but preserved food was even MORE valuable. These people had held up their end of the deal, and now it was time for Arnou to uphold his end starting with a bit of advice, "I wouldn't recommend going to the Conclave right now. They won't hold their acceptance ceremony until dusk, so going there now only increases your chances of being robbed or killed. It practically guarantees you'll contract some kind of illness, as well."

He took a step back to address the group as a whole--a clear divide in the sand between them, "There's an herb that grows on the northern part of the island--not edible, but putting it in a mask and wearing it over your face will prevent you from getting whatever it is the dozens of people there will most certainly have; I don't know the proper name. Around here--it's called Poxbane. It's a pain to get it, but there's a few people who make their living here by selling the plant. We should head for them."

Arnou took a knee and threw his pack in front of him before snatching one of the pieces of hard tack from between the slits of paper and holding it in his teeth--the rest being deposited into his backpack a peek revealing his meagre belongings. The Man stood to his feet--sand falling from the creases of his pants, and looked at them with an expectant stare. Yet, the strange happenings centered around this woman, this Karwi Shwadar, as she would explain--seemed to continue coming in spades. The Exiled Lord crossed his arms as she explained herself to them and told tales of visions and prophecy. As she winded on down the path of her story, his face became a bit more somber as he felt an abstract relation between them. Arnou, too, had been told of a fate that waited him as a noble in The Kingdom of Braethia. He had a responsibility to the realm, one to himself, the people, his family. When the war came, he was told he had to win--he would win, because he was a Sylvain and heir to Westvale. The responsibility she now shouldered was a bitter reminder of what he had been told even if he thought hers was some folk tale spun by a lunatic. He was certain the pressure was similar, or at least that she found it to be.

"Well, I don't know about civilization being a plague or anything like that. I don't know much about prophecy, either. What I do know is this: living your life in order to fit a mold that someone else set for you is only going to drive you mad. When their expectations are more of a priority to you than your own, that's when you truly become lost in who they want you to be. I can imagine what you're thinking, I can imagine you probably think you're right, and I can see that you're set on carrying out what you've been sent to do. Hopefully, you'll..."

Arnou trailed off before giving any hypocritical advice of his own. The words that nearly escaped his mouth were 'focus on what you want before you do something you can't fix.', but he had already crossed that threshold long ago and continued to imprison himself by it every day he refused to leave the island. Further, he respected his family's wishes every moment that he accepted he was going to die in this land; his speech was simple projection. The passion in his previous words died as he refocused, "Sorry. I'm your bodyguard--not your father, let's go."

He turned and made his way toward the city street--a pensive scrunching of his face as he stared absently in the sand before shaking himself free of his thought and keeping alert for any signs of trouble.

 
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Khadija Aslan​
Group 2 ( BlueXBlood BlueXBlood , Zazz Zazz , Xen6n Xen6n , Aegis Aegis )​


For a split second, Khadija was overjoyed her diversion worked. Then she felt the weight of six pale eyes descend upon her at once and realized just a moment too late what the creature's full attention meant. She staggered backwards as the beast's sharp anterior legs jabbed and slashed at her vulnerable flesh. The bard lost her footing altogether in the desperate retreat, falling to the floor and scrambling backwards with her saber warding off the worst strikes. One vicious stab barely missed the prone half-orc's legs, instead punching straight through her robes and into the splintered wooden floorboard beneath. She tried to scramble back, but the strong fabric didn't give; she was trapped, staring into the thing's sharp mandibles that were quickly closing in.

Spider food, might have been her last thoughts as fear consumed her, staring into the maw of this beast from an older age. Then, a sharp crack like lightning striking in the confined space rang out. One mandible practically evaporated, and Khadija was splattered with a sickly green ichor as the beast lurched back with a harsh screech. Khadija sprang to her feet, aching legs screaming in protest, and regrouped with the others. She nodded to Aris in thanks, too winded for any verbal praise. Khadija didn't think the mute woman would mind.

"Break its legs at the joints, I can't see!" Bal called out.

"I warned you!" Khadija called out in her own defense as she readied her saber. Monster slaying was decidedly not Khadija's area of expertise, though, and she took Bal's advice to heart. The spider's chitinous exterior was tough, much too resilient for ordinary arms, but there were weak spots. Khadija could see them now, small sections where the exoskeleton failed to overlap. A thrust there might disable the creature's limbs altogether. Or not. She didn't know much about spider anatomy, or fighting them, for that matter.

As the trio prepared to launch another assault, a hellish and roaring flame rose up from the planks underfoot, separating them from the spider.

“Is everyone okay? I was just on my way to you when I found the heap of cobwebs that vermin left in the library." It was R'hllor, who took his place along their side. Khadija laughed in disbelief.

"Aside from the giant spider? We're fine! How are you?" R'hllor didn't have much time to respond, though, as he was thrown across the room by Bal. Khadija groaned in frustration. She gazed at the wavering and otherworldly flames, mesmerized by the shifting patterns and colors they contained within them. Dancing and incandescent elementals, like a thing alive. Khadija couldn't tell if this was the most beautiful and enchanting thing she'd seen in her life, or if it was the çılgın şeyler she'd just smoked altering her senses. The bard determined it was probably the latter, though she did glance at Aris to see if she was experiencing similar levels of wonder. The Seeker was a tough read.

"It seems like the fire scared it off, at least," Khadija commented as she continued to stare.

A bubbling, hissing face emerged from the inferno before quickly retreating. The bard relaxed for a moment, taking a moment to breathe, but she only managed one deep exhale before a burning ribbon of silk shot through the air, landing squarely on Bal's back. The acrid smell of burning cloth and flesh filled the air as the spider redoubled its assault.

Khadija let out a string of curses as she prepared for what might be her death. She wanted to help Bal, but there was nothing that could be done. Aris indicated they should approach together, and the bard was all too happy to offer the spider a target other than herself. She cautiously approached from the left, holding her saber in one hand. She was too accustomed to duels, just playful sparring matches where the worst wound would be to one's ego. This was altogether different. Her aching body was running on pure adrenaline, the last of her physical reserves exhausted on the brutal climb up the mountain.

If fighting was a dance, then Khadija was performing a drunken waltz with the spider's stabbing and swiping limbs, just barely keeping herself alive as she made opportunistic slashes and jabs at gaps in the hard chitin. The spider shifted its focus onto Aris just as Bal let out a blood-chilling scream and leapt towards the burning beast's back, dagger in hand. Khadija let out a similar cry as she thrust her saber into one of the creature's leg joints. Her blade found its mark, digging into the soft flesh between hard armor, and she forced her saber down and deeper into the weak point, hoping to drive the beast closer to the ground.

 
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SOUTHWEST SANCTUARY
Group 2 ( BlueXBlood BlueXBlood Zazz Zazz Corn Orc Vandal Corn Orc Vandal Xen6n Xen6n )​


R'hllor's head bouncing off of the ground signaled a shift in the momentum of combat for better or worse as he laid slump and still--the rise and fall of his chest suggesting life, but the lack of consciousness dissipated the protective flame. Yet, it came just after a jet of web. Smoke and screams choked the air as Bal' threw herself to the ground; the half orc was reduced to a shadow inside a cloak of flame as she tore free her burning garments and rolled across the floor--her senses annihilated by a blinding pain. In an instant, the team had dropped half of its members into a state of combat ineffectiveness, but still Aris pushed forward.

Her clash with the Spider was something of a dance, a life-ending waltz where they cut and stabbed at one another with intent to rend and destroy. Aris's blade glided across carapace as she excavated the armor in flecks of debris, but the most she was managing was to leave marks upon its already-battle-worn frame; it was clear it had killed creatures hungrier, more desperate, stronger, more determined to live than she had ever been. This was an old creature. It knew how to kill. However, for what the Spider had in heartiness, the half-elf compensated in sheer agility as each of the creature's strikes caused an explosion of rotted wood and stone but failed to connect with the woman.

Neither combatant could seize an edge over the other as Aris led the Spider on a rampage that ruined most of the furniture that still remained--the air raining dust as two figures threw blow after blow at one another. Yet, something had to give, and the creature rocked back and descended upon Aris with its stinger. Stone erupted as it threw its weight behind each thrust punching holes in the ground as deep as any of them were tall but only wide enough to catch your ankle if you were unlucky. It seemed the tide had turned against Aris, but in a brief moment she hauled herself to her feet and delivered a thrust that slipped in between its carapace and saw it recoil in agony as blood spilled from its now-gaping leg wound.

The Spider drew itself upward as if to stomp on the half-elf with all of its legs at once, but Khadija flew in from the side of the room--seizing an opportunity to stick another leg, causing it to curl back up in a lack of use as it collapsed onto its side with a pained bellow. All of this, for the still-smoking Bal' to sprint into the fray and throw herself upon the beast with the mettle of a blood-crazed warrior; dagger finding its place again and again as the Spider rose to its feet and thrashed itself around with as much force as it could reasonably manage on two wounded legs. When she wouldn't come off of the animal, it threw itself upward into the ceiling--long legs holding it up like poles, as it pinned the half-orc against the rock and drug her over it. The lips and spikes of stone dug against her flesh before the beast sunk back down rapidly and threw her from its back. Bal' smashed into the ground back-first before twisting and doubling over herself sliding to a stop next to R'hllor.

Blood now littered the room from just about everyone involved in the fight. What had been the better part of a historical site was now ruined to something that resembled the rest of the Sanctuary, injuries now more grievous than ever, and the Spider began to limp backward--a wounded animal retreating on guard. With a final yelp, the Spider slung its forward legs into the ground and threw up rock that scattered like a shotgun blast of shards toward the group and then fled back toward the main sanctum.

If one hurried, they might be able to catch the fleeing animal, but there were also many wounded.


 
[youtube]1Up9z9G8-E4zmBgk6bKpviS4UFd-IZzM2[/youtub]
Title of Song
Ying Ming-Xia
Ming-Xia’s head cocked to the side, his eyes following the tossed bag of food from the armoured man to the other armoured male. Was that the end of the payment or did he have to contribute too? The only thing that could possibly be of value to the light armoured currently is his short sword, but does he really need it? Certainly, he could defend himself even without his weapon. The tall, armoured man expressed his interest in the prophecy of the oddly dressed woman before addressing him, inquiring whether he would be joining them on their journey. Finding no reason to not go with them, he clears his throat, nodding his head to confirm,
"I suppose I will.”


The light armoured male recommended the group not to approach the Conclave, for more reasons than one. And a mysterious herb growing on this island? Intrigue peaked in his mind; though he couldn’t pinpoint what this “Poxpane” was growing on this island right away, staying with the group would certainly give him a clear answer and better understanding of what this herb was.

Yet, the story of the oddly dressed woman reminded him of a fable. He doesn’t know why, perhaps it was the storytelling, but it was…familiar? No, that wasn’t the right word. Ming-Xia didn’t know what to make of it. “Interesting…So there are multiple prophecies?“ He questioned after the light armoured man spoke, leading them to the supposed destination. Yet, he asked nothing to clarify, somewhat hesitant to start something with her, only nodding along.


Ming-Xia’s head cocked to the side, his eyes following the tossed bag of food from the armoured man to the other armoured male. Was that the end of the payment or did he have to contribute too? The only thing that could possibly be of value to the light armoured currently is his short sword, but does he really need it? Certainly, he could defend himself even without his weapon. The tall, armoured man expressed his interest in the prophecy of the oddly dressed woman before addressing him, inquiring whether he would be joining them on their journey. Finding no reason to not go with them, he clears his throat, nodding his head to confirm, "I suppose I will.”

Yet, the story of the oddly dressed woman reminded him of a fable. He doesn’t know why, perhaps it was the storytelling, but it was…familiar? No, that wasn’t the right word. Ming-Xia didn’t know what to make of it. “Interesting…So there are multiple prophecies?“ He questioned after the light armoured man spoke, leading them to the supposed destination. Yet, he asked nothing to clarify, somewhat hesitant to start something with her, only nodding along.

The light armoured male recommended the group not to approach the Conclave, for more reasons than one. And a mysterious herb growing on this island? Intrigue peaked in his mind; though he couldn’t pinpoint what this “Poxpane” was growing on this island right away, staying with the group would certainly give him a clear answer and better understanding of what this herb was.
 
Aegis said:
The Spider drew itself upward as if to stomp on the half-elf with all of its legs at once, but Khadija flew in from the side of the room--seizing an opportunity to stick another leg, causing it to curl back up in a lack of use as it collapsed onto its side with a pained bellow. All of this, for the still-smoking Bal' to sprint into the fray and throw herself upon the beast with the mettle of a blood-crazed warrior; dagger finding its place again and again as the Spider rose to its feet and thrashed itself around with as much force as it could reasonably manage on two wounded legs. When she wouldn't come off of the animal, it threw itself upward into the ceiling--long legs holding it up like poles, as it pinned the half-orc against the rock and drug her over it. The lips and spikes of stone dug against her flesh before the beast sunk back down rapidly and threw her from its back. Bal' smashed into the ground back-first before twisting and doubling over herself sliding to a stop next to R'hllor.
Click to expand...

Bal'kafaz managed to pierce the monstrosity's several times, gripping a fistful of its hair. Suddenly, her burned back hit the rough stone ceiling, and the wind was knocked from her lungs. Whatever air was left in her came out in a cry of agony as her back was shredded by the ceiling. Pain tried to take away her consciousness, but her will to survive and post-burn rage kept her agonizingly present, even as the gladiator was thrown off.

The bloodied ex-slave rolled to a stop next to R'hllor, who was seemingly passed out. Weakling mages, she thought to herself. The floor shook as chunks of it went flying; Bal'kafaz covered her head. She heard the beast retreat. Slowly, hampered by stacking injuries and a spinning head, Bal'kafaz pushed herself shakily from the floor.
 
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Group 3 Goonfire Goonfire @Rohan @escapist​


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For their situation, Maude focused on every little thing that could spare some enjoyment. From Jac'aal's drawn out story to the scribe's impatient response—even her cryptic last words—she never let any of it slide without one snide remark. She didn't care what they thought of her, because ultimately, she was serving herself through this.

For all her masquerading; how much she told herself that the things she has done and continued to do was the work of someone less than human; as much as Maude wished and felt otherwise, she was still flesh and bone. A dreadful fact she was forced to realize as Chief Hammerfist singled her and two others out.

Maude spared one last glance at her cellmates. Jac'aal and Hunadi would've noticed her prolonged silence. And, should they look at her, notice that her eyes had glazed over, and natural frown returned. By the time they reached the flogging, Maude's eyelids drooped hazily over her eyes, and she barely moved.

The reality was, no amount of brute strength can ward off pain. No amount of teeth gritting and ferocity could prevent hell from being any hellish. Something that came about in her childhood, Maude disassociated her mind from the body. A retreat from the torture she was about to endure...

It was an oasis of crystal blue water surrounded by desert. As she dipped into it, she sighed relief as the sweltering temperatures dissipated. Maude scooped several handfuls of the liquid to quench her cracking throat, then giving into temptation and throwing herself deeper into the oasis. There was nothing but the dull weather and bits of wildlife keeping her company; a peaceful contrast to the hustle and bustle of the Vultures.

Then a striking pain came on her back. Maude yelled and groaned, quickly refocusing on her breath.

"Is something wrong, dearie?"

Maude snapped toward the edge of the pond, immediately softening at the small, wiry woman with sagging skin. "Grandma," she sighed. The sight of her only confirmed Maude's suspicions. "I know what's going on. Something bad is happening out there... and there's nothing I can do." This was far from the first time in this faux oasis. "And you're not real..." Taking a deeper breath, she swam away from Grandma, further into the oasis. Her screams gurgled underwater as more lashings struck, and she latched onto something, fingers and all. It grabbed back, holding Maude tight as the flogging continued.

The torturers, unsatisfied with Maude's response, could've sworn they heard her counting under her breath. And in the end, they could not get one peep out of her. As the two new people entered, taking their bags off and whispering secrets, that got a twitch out of the bandit leader. Another as they snuck the choker off.

"It's not over, yet," Grandma said, helping Maude out of the water. She rubbed her neck, feeling the new, slight sense of freedom. Something had changed. She felt a certain feeling again, one she could never truly describe.

Maude looked into the sun, about to escape this oasis when, "Come, child. Sit with me." Grandma patted a flat stone beside her, sitting in the meditative pose she always remembered her in.

"Why? Shouldn't I go out there and—"

"No. We wait until the perfect time arrives."

"I can't—"

"Patience." Grandma patted the stone again. "Sit with me. Haven't I taught you this when you were a child?"

"Yeah..." Maude sat. "I never listened, though."

Grandma grabbed her hand gently. "There's a first time for everything."

Unintentionally, the doll-like Maude had no trouble in acting broken. She trudged robotically through the Citadel, all the way to what should've been their resting place at the hands of Chief Jern Hammerfist. She flopped ungraciously onto the metal table, being the good little prisoner they wanted. The oasis was fading. The sands were disappearing, and the heat was no Prigall sun. A glance to the side, and Grandma was but a blur. The ugly mug of Hammerfist peering down beside Maude became more disappointingly clear.

"Patience, child..."

Jac'aal was first to move, getting up without a sound. His whole body and mangled face trembled and towered over the unsuspecting dwarf. Raising the staff left carelessly by his side, Jac'aal aimed... and tapped his helmet gently.

"Patience..."

Chief Hammerfist let out a pathetic squeal. Then an even louder screech as he turned and saw the horse-face mere inches away.

"Now."

Fleshy tendrils of coagulated blood flew from Maude's stumps, wrapping around Chief Hammerfist's feet. It raised him into the air. Maude jumped to her feet, and her free hand spewed blood into the shape of a blade larger than the dwarf's head. She swung once, and his Achilles tendons splayed out.

The tendrils pulled him higher up so that he was face-to-face with Maude. The blade morphed into a grotesque hand, clenching his mouth shut. "152. That's how many floggings I received." Maude spun him around, slamming him face first into the ground. To his exposed back, she said, "Your turn, M'lord."
 
Group 4 | Rael, Eibor, and Quart
The Forests Southwest of Iyesgarth ​


Quart was swiftly distracted by a dozen racing thoughts, as she was wont to do. An eager, heedless, and impractically practical part of her just wanted to pool information, rattle off her abilities, inquire after theirs, etcetera. Jack had taught her better though, and Eibor being a bird didn’t reduce necessary caution. If anything a magical being necessitated more. Better to play one’s cards close to one’s chest for the moment.

Still, even with that aside, there was much to consider. Eibor was welcoming, friendly, and seemingly very curious. Admirable traits all, in isolation, and not made evil by combination. Yet still experience had taught her that they were by no means safe. In the short term at least, it didn’t really matter, her options rather limited overall. At worst, a pretense of pleasantries was better than the alternative, and at best perhaps this was a new friend.

As they spoke, she let her gaze turn from burn to the night around them. Talk of a camp, the lack of a need for one, likely due to avian habits, and further friendly overtures. She let it linger in the air for a few moments as she considered what to say, ultimately settling on a bit of truth, “In all honesty I don’t strictly need a camp either, but it is certainly more pleasant to take the time to rest. A boon to a traveler, much like companionship. At the very least, I have no other obligations, and it has been a long road here, so to pass the night in company would be welcome.”



 
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Group 4 | Eibor and Quart
The Forests Southwest of Iyesgarth ​


Amidst the cool night, many sounds rustled along the breeze, accompanied by the rushing of water in the close distance. The forest was anything but silent, though nature was so generous as to make itself serene for the moment. Insect cries and ravens' songs resonated throughout their surroundings, as was the song of the north in its dark hours, chilling yet alive. That fascinating take on serenity, though, was soon interrupted, as the sound of rupturing wood echoed from further behind the trees. Something had found itself in a less than pleasant accident nearby, and beyond the silhouette of trees that surrounded the immediate clearing, there stood a damaged caravan and two men, appraising their misfortune.

"This is why I said not to bother going to Iyesgarth, ya damn buffoon..." said the first of the two men as he ran a hand through his unkempt, greying hair, directing a look of disdain at the other. "Those high 'n mighty Elves wouldn't know a thing if you Darkmire folk don't. To hell with 'em, I said, but you insisted... and now, I swear, this forest will eat us alive with whatever curse you've got following us." Frustration fumed from his breath as he stomped around in angry pacing, back and forth, while his mysterious-looking comrade stared at the damaged Caravan in silence.

Black and unnerving were the second man's eyes which looked upon their vehicle, void of any kind of light. They matched his many tattoos, which ran down from his pointed ears and enveloped his shoulders entirely, left wholly exposed by his honest attire. His hair was long and white, rivaled only by his pale skin, and the entirety of his appearance painted him as a fiend, to the dismay of his beholders. Very contrary to the normality of his middle-aged, human companion. However, when he opened his mouth to speak, a euphonous tone accompanied his words, betraying his intimidating impressions with a sense of charm in his voice.

"My friend, give grace to our circumstances... In spite of what we may claim, fate does not taunt. And neither do I. I would not be carrying you out to the northeast if it was not a necessity. We will overcome... whatever this may be-" The first man merely grumbled in response, walking to the opposite side of the caravan to examine things further. Preferably without the sight of his companion.

The distant bickering of the strangers threatened to distract both Quart and Eibor from their conversations, at many points in time, and at a place and time where the wilderness might rear unfriendly faces, it was only rational for concern to arise. For a curious mind such as Eibor, no less, the sounds were a mystery that could not be ignored. Surely, such an encounter with what waited for them in the forest would prove to be worth the wondering.


 

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Group 4 | Eibor and Quart
The Forests Southwest of Iyesgarth


Eibor gave a hearty nod at Quart's response, grateful to find her interested in camp and company. This woman had all the makings of a new friend - namely mystery and a willingness to share dialogue - and given that their previous companion had appeared to make an quick and silent exit in the time it had taken them to greet the new one, they found themself in luck. Well, as lucky as one who had searched the entirety of Prigalla and Hakugei to assist a man far less invested in their partnership. Still, they had enjoyed the journey, and they had a growing sense that a new one was to unfold soon.

But before their reply could make a home in the night air, another sound graced Eibor's sensitive ear slits. How intriguing, even more people in such a remote place during such a rare time for travel for grounded beings. Their eyes dilated with anticipation.

"A boon indeed, a boon indeed. Well, Miss Quart, glad am I to find that you neither require a camp for repose, since it would appear we will be lacking one on this eve. Instead, I have a proposal: it now comes to my attention that we are not the only 'friendly lurkers' occupying this range of the Wood, and I would much enjoy making more surprise company beneath this moon. If you would not be opposed, then you may follow me and make a pair of new acquaintances, and if you would, then you need only wait for my swift return."

With that taken care of, the bird took wing and darted off between the darkened trunks, soon alighting above the two unfortunate travelers. A damaged caravan appeared to be the source of that first great sound still echoing in their skull, and the two figures speaking nearby its equally unfortunate owners. The first man, the one with the distasteful temperament and greying head, seemed less than welcoming of unexpected company in these woods, but the second, with those dark eyes and honeyed voice, he might be open to conversation. He had better be, as his appearance immediately spun Eibor's mind with questions and curiosity. Quart and their mysteries were quickly put out of mind as this new man filled their brain. They needed to know more.

Taking a moment to finish assessing the situation, they waited until the first man's pacing led him away from his companion before alighting down upon the caravan. Their voice was a whisper in the ears of the tattooed man as they cocked their head in intrigue.

"Good day and good evening to you, sir. My name is Eibor, and though I am a stranger in these harsh wilds, I would very much like to become more than that to you. If, hypothetically, you were in need of some assistance, perhaps an arrangement could be made between us, hmm?"

​

 
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Khadija Aslan​
Group 2 ( BlueXBlood BlueXBlood , Zazz Zazz , Xen6n Xen6n , Aegis Aegis )​


Khadija ceased her crazed chopping to watch in amazement as Bal leapt upon the spider's back, like some hellish smoldering meteor of flesh and fire and steel. She was pulled from her stupor as Bal's mad stabbing began, foul-smelling blood running down the creature's sharp legs and coating the floor while it bucked and thrashed violently to rid itself of this latest foe. Khadija winced at Bal's roars of pain, the spider grinding her against jagged wood and stone.

There won't be anything left of her.

She resumed her artless hacking at limbs and swollen abdomen, any pretense of form or grace long gone. The bard was less swordswoman and more log-feller, gripping the now-blunted sabre in both hands and swinging between gasps for air. Bal was sent flying across the room from whence she came as the creature retreated. Khadija's exhausted body fell to the floor with ease, narrowly avoiding a spew of debris launched by by their foe. She lay there for a time and heaved ragged breaths like some aquatic creature pulled from its watery habitat, alien mode of respiration ill-suited for survival. She did regain her composure, though, or at least some of it, and though her aching legs screamed in protest Khadija drew herself up. She heard what might have been the rolling of the ocean in her ears as adrenaline finished its final rounds through her body, leaving her feeling sick and weak. Her vision was pulsing now in bright and vibrant colors; everything seemed outlined in blues and greens and yellows where there ought not be any color at all. Her stomach churned violently in response.

No more çılgın şeyler, the bard told herself, though she knew this to be a lie.

Satisfied she was unscathed and half-recovered, Khadija stumbled to help the others. R'hllor was unconscious, and there was little she could do to remedy that. Aris, the nimble fighter, had suffered little but a blow to the head and seemed capable enough to Khadija. She stopped halfway once she set her eyes upon Bal, for she knew not how to help. Her body was torn and battered across most of her back and arms, bits of flesh hanging on with loose threads of skin or stuck with burned fabric. She smelled like something halfway between an abattoir and a campfire roast, rust and sweat and charred flesh. Yet for all these wounds she was awake and alert, and there was yet murder in her eyes. Khadija hoped that malice wasn't directed at her.

"Are... Uh... You... Ugh, here." The bard was at a rare loss for words, and her heavy breathing didn't help. She sheathed her blood-stained saber and with a quick gesture, a small roll of linen fabric appeared between her hands. She started loosely wrapping Bal's exposed wounds with the magically fabricated cloth, knowing full well this was a temporary measure at best. The wounds would have to be cleaned of debris and burned cloth at the very least, and more permanent bandages used. Her ersatz bandages would last only an hour or two at most before fading away. They had yet to locate any source of water either, but Khadija determined that was a worry for later.

"I'm going to start charging you a fee for my services," Khadija complained through panting breaths as she tried not to cause the gladiator any further pain. Her hands, usually light and nimble, were trembling with fatigue. She spoke as she worked to the others, trying to draw her mind away from the gruesome task at hand.

"We can't stay here with that beast lurking around every corner, am I wrong? But we can't make it back down the mountain with that thing at our back. What's left? Burn the place to the ground? Rest in the ashes?" Khadija suggested, the facetious remark sounding like a plausible option the moment it left her mouth. She failed to mention anyone from Prigalla tracking them might be in the valley below, but the possibility was at the forefront of her mind.

"R'hllor mentioned something about the library before Bal put him down for a nap; maybe that's where it lives?" She looked to Aris and Bal for any kind of input, hoping Aris would offer some insight into the nature of this nightmare creature.

 
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Group 4 | Rael, Eibor, and Quart
The Forests Southwest of Iyesgarth ​


Once again her wary habits paid off, as she caught the same distant sounds, shortly after her new companion. Yet more unknown things where they didn’t belong, more company in the night. Her first instinct was to simply avoid them, but Eibor had already eagerly gone to seek out more company before she could speak. A point in favor of the bird’s trustworthiness perhaps, but a negative as far as their caution.

She supposed, as she turned to follow, that it could be a trap. Leading her to some manner of pit or ambush, perhaps somewhere with some limit to magic. It was certainly possible, and there might be people with sufficient motivation out there. In the end she discarded the thought as she moved to quickly follow. It didn’t really make much sense in the end, when she would be about as easy to ambush right here.

Still if she was going to be tromping around in company, she ought to stop being lazy and actually replace her staff. The last one had met an unfortunate end outside of these woods, that she preferred not to recall. The prospect of carving down a new one was bothersome, but if she wanted to find a staff, this was the ideal place for it. In fact as she picked her way across the forest floor she spotted a nice enough looking stick.

Only a little shorter than her, relatively few offshoot branches, a few nobs, but no major bends. It was a bit too thick, and a bit oddly shaped, but she still had Jack’s carving knife in her bag along with a few other tools. It would be a nice way to wile away a few nights, when she next found them unoccupied. She picked it up in passing and continued on her way, settling back into the greater ease of assisted walking.

As she caught up with where the bird had stopped, she heard them speak. A fast and friendly greeting, but entirely incautious, thought at least she appreciated going unmentioned. As the bird spoke she paused at the first clear sighting she had, observing the halted caravan and two unknown men. A common traveler’s trap, but not the right place for it so that was unlikely. Traveling in the dead of night through uncertain woods with uncertain cargo still left her wary.

In the quiet moments after Eibor finished speaking, she approached, making her presence clear via the distinctive sound of a walking staff. She would take up the role of the cautious one though, as she called on her magic, letting it flow into her eyes and down through her bones. She knew it wasn’t the subtlest, and could present it’s own issues, but unskilled casters wouldn’t necessarily recognize it, and if she was confident in anything, it was the destructive power she could wield.

Still as she got a better look at the halted caravan she didn’t see reasons for any greater concerns. A rather normal looking middle-aged man, accompanied by an elf with a somewhat strange appearance. If she remembered her lessons, those eyes weren’t quite normal, but then with her own all-black eyes, currently showing cracks aglow in myriad colors no less, she could hardly judge. When she spoke it was simple and quiet, the slightest rasp to her voice and a jerk of her chin towards Eibor, “I’m with the bird, and willing to hear you out all the same.”



 
GROUP 2: Corn Orc Vandal Corn Orc Vandal BlueXBlood BlueXBlood Xen6n Xen6n Aegis Aegis

Despite her sorry state, Bal'kafaz was rearing for more, a mad fury in her eyes. She still had fire left in her. Yet, when Khadija approached with her magic bandages, the burned, bloodied, and beaten gladiator lost all will. Her jaw protested the gritting of teeth. The agony of her injuries returned as cloth met flesh, adrenaline dying away. Bal' felt as though she were still on fire, slowly roasting like an oryx on a spit. She nearly laughed at the bard's jest, but instead the air left her lungs in a rather undignified whimper; her hands trembled against the stone wall they held to.

"I never want to see a fire again," she groaned, listening to Khadija's yammering. Although, burning the beast alive did sound satisfying. Bal' closed her eyes as a wave of nausea hit, doing her best to remain still for the bard. Her breath was shallow and quick, the muscles of her torso constricting with every movement of her lungs. "The horses," she reminded them. "They're not safe. And- my armor..." She glanced around suddenly, and swore. "My blade." The infernal beast must have run off with her dagger still lodged in its back.

"If it's holed up in the library, that's- that's easy. We can burn it and whatever spawn it's-" Her words broke off, the pain too great.

"I just want a bath."
 
SHERAGA THE LEPER
GROUP 1:
Corn Orc Vandal Corn Orc Vandal Daylight Fantasy Daylight Fantasy Tool Tool Aegis Aegis
"H-huh...?" The sounds barely filtered through Sheraga's helmet. He wanted to form words after Annik had so fervently conveyed her tale, but his mouth could hardly cooperate. It was ridiculous, but there was no denying the facts: a sick man in yellow armor stood upon the shores next to a vast body of water. "I am of civilization, girl. I have not the slightest clue what good I will serve in your... venture...?" He wanted so badly to tell her she was mad, and yet...

Sheraga glanced around at the other two men. They had to have been thinking the same things. "Look... I know not how you will reach your goal. You may follow me until you find the next sign. Just... Try not to cause trouble. Understood?"

As he joined the march with Arnou guiding him, the crusader pondered the need for herbs. "Poxbane... I may recognize it if I see it. The plague doctors back home used to pack their masks with herbs and spices, to similar ends." Something the younger man said silenced him, however: '... Living your life in order to fit a mold that someone else set for you is only going to drive you mad.' His mind hitched on that one profound thought.

After a quiet moment, Sheraga sighed suddenly. He had a question, and he didn't know if he would regret asking. "So what is a... Karwi?" he enunciated awkwardly. Though there was only mild physical distance between Jarnakkia and Kellid lands, Annik's native tongue was as foreign to him as his was to her.
 
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Group 2 - Aris, R'hllor, Khadija, and Bal'Kafaz
The Southwestern Sanctuary of the Order ​


As events unfolded, the surrounding images melded together in an undefined array, overwhelming Aris amidst the chaos. It hadn't even occurred to her that the çılgın şeyler had run its course till she attempted to concentrate her sight, met with a haze of vivid colors. In an instant, she was bombarded with a splash of debris that grazed her flesh all around, leaving her dazed. Her head throbbed, presumably from some kind of trauma that she had already forgotten amidst her prior fixation. The adrenaline was starting to fade, and as she gave space for the burden of exhaustion to weigh upon her, she immediately grew weary, heaving one tense breath after another.

With a dagger in its back, the creature dragged itself away, and though Aris wished to move, her body froze, desperately needing a moment to breathe. She had begun to feel dizzy with all the acrobatics, narrowly avoiding lethal blows again, and again, and again... Her first temptation was to collapse on the ground, but out of fear of letting her guard down, she refused. Instead, she wearily carried herself to the wall of the room, leaning against the cold stone for stability as she sheathed her sword. She closed her eyes in hopes of ignoring her impaired vision from the herbs, but vivid light from the holes in the ceiling still seeped through to her annoyance.

She watched, instead, as Khadija limped over to the disastrously wounded gladiator, attempting to mend the little that she could of her torn and battered body. The stinging sensation that rang through every cut on the Seeker's skin begged her to do the same for herself as well. She pulled her fedora over her face for a moment to mask a hard wince before tossing it aside, removing her coat and doing the same. She then unraveled her ribbon, running a hand through her loosened hair as the pressure gradually alleviated from her head. Her gaze then fell down... A long streak of red stained her blouse along her stomach, holding her attention from the many trivial scratches that adorned her arms as well.

However, it was nothing, really, compared to what Bal' and R'hllor had suffered, and somehow, that justified Aris enough to care less about her own condition, bringing her attention instead toward her companions again. When balance became feasible again, she went to sit down beside the unconscious mage, listening to Khadija as she relayed her thoughts to the party.

"We can't stay here with that beast lurking around every corner, am I wrong? But we can't make it back down the mountain with that thing at our back. What's left? Burn the place to the ground? Rest in the ashes?"

Aris was settled on the fact that she would kill that creature, one way or another. She refused to leave the sanctuary over it. However, she did not have the confidence to shake her head and attempt to convince the others of that. So, her expressions gave nothing but silence to the rest, and she receded into thought as Bal' wrestled against agony just to utter a response to the bard. Just a moment spared for breath... and in the meantime, the Seeker hoped that her running thoughts might carry inspiration for how they might handle this mess.

"R'hllor mentioned something about the library before Bal put him down for a nap; maybe that's where it lives?"

The half-elf quirked an eyebrow. "Something about the library," wasn't exactly compelling evidence for any notion, but it was worth considering. She planned in her mind to possibly inspect things once the party recovered, but as of now, the only thing that was permitted in her mind was the fact that everyone ought to rest. If only she could have saved everyone the injuries, somehow... but unfortunately, that wasn't the case.


 
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