IC: Rathess [Mission: Infernal]

P

Persell

Ten Thousand Club
Epic poetry about beauty and adventure in the jungle tends to gloss over a few things. These things probably aren't considered epic enough. That just means the poets probably don't know what they're talking about, because that smell is epic. It's the smell of rotting trees, animal carcasses and crap, and flowers. The flowers are the worst.


Years of magical interference and selective breeding have turned common flowers into beautiful, sweet smelling things for the appreciation of the nobility and idle old fat people. But these flower's aren't blooding for people. They bloom to put the densest, most powerful aroma they're capable of into the air, and it had better be a smell that gets attention. It's the smell of free nutrients, and by that I mean feces.


It ultimately drove you up to the second canopy. Here, deep in the forests, standing on the broad branches a hundred feet from the ground, the air is nicer. You can also move faster then half a mile a day. You can see around, and check for predators, and the bugs bite you with a frequency of barely once every three seconds. It's nice, and Rathess should be only a couple miles beyond.


From the summit of a massive, dead redwood couple miles back, you saw it. The central gleam of the golden ziggurat was unmistakable. There also seemed to be several other things, possibly stone, floating up above the trees. You'd estimate it at a half dozen miles away. The jungle seems unbroken for the rest of the journey, and by mundane means you could make it in a day.
 
Jak had an amused grin as he walked along the branches, gaudy boots clopping upon the hardwood trees as the coven approached Rathess. "Flowers that smell like shit, what a good joke to tell the audience back in Malfeas." His voice grew suddenly morose. "Shame that we can't." Then Jak's expression came back to the unnervingly amused, and he continued, in a theatrical rehearsal manner, "Then you'll hear this one. Did you hear the one about the Infernal who decided to hunt down monstrous spirits? No? Stay where you are, don't scream, don't flee, don't fight."


His mad laughter sent the birds fluttering away.
 
"Too far from the blessed island? too well guarded? Nah, that's not the reason why the shogunate has not sent its legions to Rathess, their armies of "courtborn" would have been unable to resist a little walk here..." told Jaris, with an hyronic, but nearly whining tone...


Jaris was a man accustomed to walking and travelling, but never was lover of long trecks in the jungles, he liked facing new people, new possibilities, enjoyed visiting new places, but would have skipped all the hassle needed to get to one point to another gladly.


"I hope that the city to redeems its surrounding sh... ehem flora, but I imagine it won't..."


"By any chance do you know anything about the place? Shall we allow whoever or whatever inhabits it to spot us, if they have not done that already, or choose to be more careful?"
 
Malichoir was thankful for the heavy duster that kept much of the denizens off of him or from biting him. Thankfully the jacket "breathed" enough so as not to drive him mad. Still, it was warm enough like home, albeit with much more moisture in the air than he was accustomed to.


He chuckled at Jak's joke and gave him a nod of appreciation before looking to his fellow Fiend and rattling off some facts about Rathess and what they might be dealing with soon enough. (Lore 3, whatever is relevant).


"And believe me, I am not too fond of the jungle anymore than any of you are. I prefer the dry air more."
 
Iona paused her scans of the surrounding branches for awhile and joined in the banter, "Well, at least we are out of that stinking prison again. Plenty of not so fine smells down there. But you are right, we should pool what we know and work out a plan. No accounting for what sort of things a god might have cooked up with too much time alone in a place like this. Some old city right? That probably means walls to get past at some point."
 
Jak snorted contemptuously, "I'm here. It would be harder for a Scourge to get past a neomah's walls, than for me to get over them. I can get over to the other side of the walls and get a gate open for the rest of you. Hell, I can see if there's anything other than vermin. Non-forbidden vermin that is."
 
"Good, so, stealth from here then?" Iona looks to the others and fingers her bowstring idly adjusting the tufts of gethin down she uses as a silencer.
 
For once it isn't raining. That's been a rarity for the last several weeks. It's not that it would make climbing the dilapidated outer wall any harder. You have charms for that, and they pay no attention to little things like rain. But the rain here is just miserable. The humidity never really drops, so after a good downpour you just stay wet. Your boots are still soaked from that morning.


You come over the top of the wall and find yourselves looking down on the final stages of a nasty little bit of wet work. There are two of them, and they're finishing off what had been a Dragon King. Mosok, those of you who would know, think. Its the right size, but the shape is hard to determine. The two knife wielders are being very thorough. There's another sinking into a canal to the west. By the time you identify what's going on, there's no reason to interfere.


You've ascended a wall just west of the southernmost gate. A couple hundred yards to the right is a ramshackle wright's warren of flowing, conjoined buildings. They're all stone, but they look more like they grew than were built. Roughly a third of the windows are lit. Directly below you and sweeping west is a water octad. A dozen little lakes and reservoirs are all linked together by the small canals like the one mosok is sinking in. Elsewhere in the city are a lot of lights, and a couple of soaring towers interrupt the skyscape.


The two killers finish their work and straighten up. They exchange some words and start smoking while standing guard over the dying lizard. It gurgles a bit, and they stop talking to watch it. Soon the lizard goes silent.
 
Iona holds her bow at the ready, trained on the men below, and motions for the others to continue quietly moving to the east. Should the men take notice, she is ready to quiet them.


Those buildings should provide some cover.
 
He waited, he watched. They were just here as explorers, yeah, that was it. Mind you, the thought of taking these two out as to not have an alarm raised came to mind. He did not idly enjoy the thought of having to wait here for a long time.
 
When the lizard finally rattles and goes still, the two men stub out their cigarettes. With kicks and grunts, they push the corpse into the canal and let it sink. It goes down fast, sending up many bubbles but not much else. They must have lanced all the organs and done so with professional expertise. Soon the canal is quiet.


"Hear that, damn lizards," yells one out over the water. "I know you're under there, watching, listening. Set a foot on land and we'll send you back with more holes then you started with. I'll draw gill lines across your throats!"


The other reaches out to pull his companion away from the water, but the speaker resists, shrugging off the hand. It's hard to see expressions beneath their cowled heads. The second one grabs him again, harder this time, and yanks him backwards. There is a night fog rising off the water, slithering towards the shore. Finally the vocal knifeman accedes, and they retreat. Their footsteps induce clicking on the roads, much like hoofbeats.


Now you also hear wingbeats from the jungle behind you. Still deep in the murk, but undeniable, and approaching fast. They're slow, heavy sounds, meaning whatever it is is big for the air. And there's a lot of them.

Perception + Awareness difficult 4 (of which 2 is the evening gloom, so Witness to Darkness brings the diff down to 2) for anyone who was staring hard at the two figures.
 
Thankful for the "blessings" of his Yozi patron Malichoir's eyes pierced the darkness of the night with ease.

2011-04-07 20:04:48 Malichoir rolls 6 dice to Per+Awar (Diff 2) 6,4,10,8,6, 8 (3 successes)
 
Coyotekin: The dude's hand was furry and had three fingers. His legs end in cloven hooves instead of feet. They aren't horse or mule hooves though. They're slimmer, more like a fawn's(the young deer).


Rest of you, roll and that's what you see if you make it.


You don't get anything extra about the incoming wingbeats, except there are multiple sets. More then three and less than forty, but no idea where between those outliers.
 
Jak didn't have the so-called blessings that Malichor did, but his skilled eyes could break through the gloom nonetheless, and he silently giggled at the sight of the beastmen. He lingered for a few more moments before passing on as Iona wanted. Nevertheless as he passed her, Jak smiled and whispered, "They're beastmen."

Per+Awareness roll


8d10 → [3,9,1,2,10,7,1,8] = 5 successes
 
Iona turns at the sound of wingbeats. Scanning the darkness she tries to assess the distance they need to cover to get to the houses and when the fliers will be arriving.

Perc+Aware = 6


6d10.hits(7) → [8,6,10,3,7,6] = (3)


4 hits
 
As noted, to the right is a different octad. Roughly two hundred yards off, it is full of strange geometry and complex buildings, where finding cover would be easy. The wall you're on is roughly fifty feet tall, but there are low spots which bring it down.


The fliers will arrive in roughly twenty to thirty seconds.
 
Iona


Iona starts dashing full speed along the wall towards the buildings hoping to gain the wall adjacent them before the fliers arrive.

dashing silently with the plan of stopping to cover the others once she gets to the section by the buildings
 
The flying lizards arrive, sweeping low over the walls to land in a cluster around the canal. There must be a score of them, resting on the wet stone with oddly bend legs and long heads. Their wings fold in, and several fish the lacerated Mosok from the water. At once they set to a long, low keening. Clustered about the dead, the Dragon-Kings wail in agony, and the sound whistles through the thick, humid air. The sound may be inhuman, but the mournful grief is instantly recognizable.


It is responded to quickly. A figure in black with a low cowl seems to simply arise from shadows. In a moment he is among them without transition. At the interruption the mourning call rasps and dies, but they do not attack.


"Tell me, now do you your brethren back? Now do you want the power to overwhelm Ma-Ha-Suchi's greater numbers and feed your enemies to Han-Tha? Now do you want the souls of the fallen to walk with you once more? Always before you ignored the dead, sure they would return, but your people are dwindling, Raptok lords. Who now knows the paths to return your people to sentience? Some few of you do, but you cannot dive into the depths where the Mosok dwell. You cannot scurry under the ground. For the last time before I wash my hands of your dying race and let you flee to the shadows of extinction, do you want me to save your dead?" the voice is firm and demanding. It is clearly male, and just as clearly irritated and tired.


"But the Eye-" one Raptok wails, and is cut off.


"Will do you no good when your people are all dead!" the man in black yells.


"And you-"


"Yes, yes, yes! I will save your people. But speak quickly, for these ones here will soon be lost."


There is a ruffle that flows through the grieving Dragon-Kings, and some inner will breaks inside them. The bodies of their friends lie bleeding before, and the pain is too great. Thus it is their race truly falls, and the speaker submits.


"Then bring them back, and we will give you the Eye."


In that moment everything changes, and the black figure appears exultant in triumph. He tears apart the night with pure ebon power, and demands impossible things of Creation. There is enough power in his words to force the Law to bend to his will. Slowly the dead Mosok rise up, and rejoin their comrades.


"This is neither the time nor place for reunions," the black man demands. "They can swim after us. Now we must leave. Take me to the Eye."


The Raptok whisper to their risen comrades, and the Mosok dive into the canals. But the Raptok do not fly back the way they came. Instead they lumber into the city, heading towards the city's heart. The shrouded figure is perplexed for a moment, then follows them. There is time to follow them if you want.
 
Interesting. This could lead to so much more. That is assuming I keep them unaware of my presence. And with that the strange Scavenger Lord took to the shadows using the natural underbrush, sounds of the wilds, and using the Infernal gifts of the Ebon Dragon.....

Want to use the First Ebon Dragon Excellency for stealth purposes.
 
Iona's eyes go wide at the sight of this. Is this the god we are to deal with? Or some new player perhaps. Whoever it was, it had power, and it seemed to be after more.


She signaled to the others and dropped inside the wall. Keeping to the shadowy rooftops of the sprawl she tried to parallel the path of the lumbering group without being seen.


Dex+Stealth=8


8d10.hits(7) → [8,3,6,4,2,2,9,9] = (3)


3 hits
 
You are Infernals. There is no way measly Dragon-Kings can spot you on a gloomy night if you do not wish to be found. The human might, but he seems to be paying attention to something else.


The group of them heads inwards, and at first you thing you're headed towards the center of Rathess. Indeed, you do come quite close to it. But the Raptok diverge to swing around it, and head towards another octad that is mostly dark. Several break off and fly away. As you are passing the center where a vast ziggurat stumps up from the gloomy darkness and evening fog, you hear a man's cry from atop the great temple. From the darkness, he casts his cry nine times to the sky. He screams a challenge, and the single word is, "Octavian!"


Then the raptok wind their way into the ruined masonry and you come to perch above them. A few more depart and the rest meet a strange creature resting by a dark pool. The water is steaming mist in the hot night, and that occludes your vision like simple darkness can't. Some words are exchange in High Holy Speech. (Anyone know HHS?) Then the shadowy figure gives the Raptok an orb roughly the size of a bowling ball, and with visible pain and regret they present it to the man.


"What the frak is that?" the man snaps.


"The Eye," one of the broken-hearted Raptok explains beseechingly.


"I wanted the damn Eye of Autocthon! Not this, this, whatever the crap this is!" the human screams in his face, and snatches the orb from him.


The Raptok says nothing, but hunches low. He looks defeated and old.


The man holds the ball accusingly for several seconds, glaring at the few Dragon-Kings who remain. More of them slink off into the night. Then in dour fury he shoves the ball under his cloak and storms off. The few Raptok remaining begin their wailing keen of grief, and that echoes through the night. Like a counterpoint, the shadowy human begins screaming his challenge again, and the two cries make dark music.
 
"Hurmmmm..." Jak murmured into the night to the others. "I don't know about that screamer on the roof, but that fellow in black is something. Wonder what he had with offering the Dragon Kings power? What say I go follow him and keep an eye out eh?"
 
He simply nodded to Jak. His eyes looked to the idiot on high, and given the number of days required to scream to Octavian they either had a short time before the big guy arrived....or that idiot wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. That aside perhaps it was time to make some allies in this bug-infested place.


Looking to his other companions he asked, "How about speaking to these Raptok and see if we can make any deals?"
 
Presuming you go about your business as indicated...


Jak has not problems following the man in black. He walks through the city with belligerent carelessness. Various beastmen watch him from the rooftops of neighboring buildings, but none interfere. Jak has no problems discerning the scowls, hisses, and atavistic coughs of hostility coming from them. Making his way through the shadows beside the road, he also dodges stray rocks. The rocks always fall long after the dark man is passed though, when there is no risk of a tumbling stone striking him.


You follow him deep into the bowels of the city, and he winds his way from corridor to sewer to filth encrusted cave. Soon only your stolen powers from the Ebon Dragon enable you to see.


The dude soon meets up with a group of nasty looking demi-humans. They're slimey and slippery, and several seem to have horrific mutations. The look like Akuma where-in the process went horribly wrong. Dude starts talking to them in a language you do not understand.


Malchior goes down and meets the Raptok. Several of them have slid deeply into despair, and make no hostile gestures when you appear. Instead they keen in grief, and wail together. After a bit of work you find a couple more coherent ones, and get them talking to you. Deprived of subtlety by their grief, they ask you who you are and what you want.
 
Iona


Iona watched from the shadows with an arrow ready as Malchior approached the group. Seeing no clear hostile intent she lowered her weapon and stepped up to join him.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.

Users who are viewing this thread

Total: 2 (members: 0, guests: 2)
Back
Top