Fantasy The Great Games of Nye

[Emphoa]

Adamaris could feel the thumping of their heart hammering within their chest with every little action, word spoken, every movement that came from the other members of their rag tag group. Each one felt... more risky than the last, too loose with the fact that a large whale was hovering just above them. They couldn't help but purse their lips together, keeping close to Elriel as Zak spoke up- as Ivan fell onto it and was promptly shaken off, every little thing seemed to put another weight on the metaphorical tension in the air. Their eyes snapped onto Elriel, leaning into his touch as they spoke up. "Maybe we should try-"

It was then that the mouth of the beast opened, and that tension snapped hard and loud within their ears, revealing how little control they truly had centering their situation. They shut their eyes against the pittering of droplets against their skin, eyes wide as they felt the rough movement of the ship being pulled into the gaping jaws of the beast in front of them and they held tightly onto Elriel. A sense of dread bubbling up and encompassing them as they had to consider whether this would be their final moments together. Within the belly of some beast in the middle of the ocean without an ounce of accomplishment to their mission.

Adamaris snapped out of it as they heard the thwomp of the closing of its mouth, submerged within darkness and only one voice to ring out through them.

"N-Nettle-?!" The sudden offer was enough to rear them right out of the frozen fear they had felt, and their eyes snapped onto Elriel, dumbfounded and could barely see him within the darkness but they let out a breath. "Fuck." They whispered quietly, more at the ridiculousness of this situation over anything else as they tried to look around for any sort of light. "I think nettle tea would be the least of our concerns when being pulled into the mouth of a beast- is that- is this the beast, or perhaps a person?" They spoke up, their eyes snapping around for any sign, any answers, it all felt... unreal, like this was some very odd, peculiar dream that they had found themselves in and they looked at Elriel.

At the very least, they were together, and they reached up to the arm wrapped around them to lightly squeeze his hand.

Goliath Jet EldridSmith ManofManyRoles

 

[Arcanist]

Brynwyr Protheroe

Mentions: Lost Echo ZackStop Jet

Excited, Spivey claimed, and Brynwyr couldn’t help but scoff at the idea. It was no sane action to wallop someone out of excitement, not with such force either. She felt her own fingers form a fist, though, she did not think to swing it at him, much as she was tempted to do so. The hypocrisy of it would have been laughable.

Spivey tried to plead his case, as most guilty parties were wont to do, jumping immediately to their own defence, and Brynwyr stood with her arms folded, waiting for a good excuse.

But somehow, even in that act of poor behaviour, Huracan seemed…forgiving of him. Until he spoke of something, something that sounded almost like advice, before he stepped aside.

Spivey didn’t spend long on the proverbial stand before his sentence was decided, and his punishment carried out. The grandmother had been suspiciously quiet in the aftermath of improper guest behaviour, though, Brynwyr had put it down to the pure shock of the slap.

She could the slithering, and then the snapping of something thick before she saw the vines shoot out towards Spivey. “Wha-!” The sheer velocity of them shooting past her that it lifted strands of the hair stuck to her head. Her hand instinctively went to her sword, though never unsheathed it, though, it was not as if she could do anything as Spivey had shoved her out of the way of the incoming plant life.

The knight almost lost her footing, and just about caught herself when she reached out to a chair for support to keep her from toppling over. From what it sounded like, Spivey had tried his best to avoid the vines, and hurl more verbal assaults rather than physical. When she did finally steady herself to see what was going on, Spivey had landed back on his feet on the ground, making some sort of comment about this whole affair being dramatic.

“I think it’s a reasonable enough reaction…” Brynwyr mumbled, even if it was rather dramatic. She’d have never agreed openly with the mercenary after all, but she made no jump to defend him. Selfishly, it would put her in a less favourable light, and she wouldn’t have wanted to face those vines if she could help it.

 

[Jet]

​

Ren.

Why would he shout hello?

What had possessed him to kick the hornet's nest? Johan watched without a word, wincing and cringing with each clattering of metal, and suddenly aware they needed to move.

"Clean room first, then the weird one." He spoke quickly and quickly moved from the room, returning to the exposed docks.

"Im with Narzas, we move together so follow me up." He agreed with Narzas on that front, splitting seemed like a terrible idea that would get them killed, either from Marjorie or whatever lurked here. He would try his best to keep them all together, even when he was rushing them out the room.

He found the nearest door and entered the inner hallways of the station, swiveling his head back and forth. The hallways were dingy and lights flickered from above. There was an electric buzz that droned louder with every second, and there was a strange pressure in his head.

His blood suddenly ran cold. He could feel some kind of presence approaching them, something big and drawn by the sound. He looked down the hall and he could barely make out, over the thrumming electricity, the sound of thumping feet. He squared his chest and raised up his hand, waiting for the source to reveal itself, and finally he saw it, rounding a corner some hundred feet away, a lumbering beast with a roughly humanoid shape. It was bulbous and unnaturally huge with arms thicker than columns, skin rippling with uneven, grotesquely powerful muscles.

It was coming straight for him, but he was anything but worried. It would be easy enough to defeat a brute foe.

He charged a spell on the tip of his finger, a simple laser to cut down the beast.

But then the pressure intensified. It felt like he was submerged under a hundred feet of water. His temples wanted to burst.

His magic faltered and he stumbled sideways, propping himself against the wall. Then his vision blurred and stars swam across his eyes, and he felt like throwing up, his stomach twisting into knots as he stammered,

"Something's—"

"Something's wrong." He raised his hand and charged his spell again, and again the pressure mounted. The beast sprinted at him and slammed its fist into the wall, leaving a wide dent in the metal.

Johan tried one last time, but there wasn't enough time left for him. The creature knocked him back through the doorway and back across the floor, sliding until he slammed into a crate.

The creature was too large to step through the doorway, but it was strong enough to bend the metal. It pressed against the frame until the metal buckled and bent away, and out it stepped, some kind of mutated human standing ten feet tall. It's body was a patchwork of scars and unnatural growths. And it's eyes. Blacker than shadows. They seemed to absorb light from the air. It stood before them and roared a bellowing scream from the bottom of its heart. The sound of rage distilled to its finest, most painful form.

"Magic won't work," Johan said, pushing himself up to his feet. He wiped a trail of spit from his mouth, deeply exhaling as he processed the pain. There were a few aching ribs but he would live — for now anyway — but without their magic and against this beast, how long would that be true?

He conquered the fear of battle many years ago, and he'd become confident in his power as a centurion. But against this foe where his greatest strength was taken away, he almost felt nostalgic. He felt the same flutter of fear that plagued him as a young man. The same uncertainty that now made him feel alive, even if it scared him.

"Old fashioned way," he said with a narrow smile. "I hope you all remember how to throw a punch. We won't be blasting our way out of this one."

rozukitsune ZackStop Huntertabbysandshark3 Lost Echo

 

[rozukitsune]

The horror movie atmosphere grew worse with each and every step they took toward their intended goal. Narzas found it less and less likely there was even anyone alive in here the longer they walked. The buzzing from the low-lighting was giving her such a fucking headache... for the third time in the last 24 hours she was feeling sick - and this time there didn't seem to be anything she could do about it. They were in this stupid building for the long haul and outside of something drastic happening (probably their sudden and gruesome deaths-)

....


.....

Her vision swam as suddenly Johan stiffened and there was some kind of huge creature barreling down on him and body-checking him down the hallway into another room. Her internal problems were utterly set aside as her heart froze in her chest as he slid into some boxes and the thud of his sudden stop reached her ears. She didn't really need to be told fisticuffs were in order... a complete and total rush of blood to her head and ears and eyes seeing him assaulted had overtaken her sense and without a second's pause she leapt like a cat onto the thing's back. Distracted by Johan, it had utterly failed to notice any of the rest of them following along behind and so uttered an inhuman scream as the Züanshìn woman drove both of her daggers right into its back.

This... did not kill it or drop it as she had hoped but seemed to just make the thing angrier as it bucked and thrashed almost immediately - trying to get her off. She held on with single-minded determination, waiting for an opportunity to retrieve her knives and stab them into the thing again. Fuck this thing in particular for daring to hurt Johan. It was about to get a lesson in what happened when you pissed off a woman in love.

----

​

NOPE! Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope and nope. Marjorie was not being paid enough to get attacked by a fucking wild monster. That wasn't happening. She wasn't a fighter she was an assassin. Not even that really. More like an alternative life specialist who preferred to send people to their respective afterlives with a quick jolt of a joules' worth of electricity right to their brain stem. Or heart. None of this hand to hand bullshit. She was way too important to dirty her own hands. Eww. Thanks, but been there - done that... and not interested. She spun on a heel and booked it down the way they'd come heading directly back to the sub they'd come in on. No one was going to mind if she "borrowed" it and left everyone else stranded here to die, right? Nah. These peons were all quite expendable.

All but her.

She had to escape. "Later, losers!" She called as her heels clacked a panicked rhythm down the metallic hallways.

Jet Lost Echo ZackStop Huntertabbysandshark3

​

 

[ZackStop]

Ren followed along with whatever they had in mind. He wasn't a plan maker and had no experience in this sort of thing, while the adults on the team must've been more adept with these things. He hand placed a hand over his face, kicking himself for losing his nerve back there. The hit of adrenaline did help however, now much less scared of this place. Sure it was dark but atleast he wasn't alone, he just hoped nothing jumped out at him.

Phalanx's keen hearing was a great advantage when merging, not to mention the night vision. Ren's ear twitched as he was able to pick out the sound of something approaching, something big. Something fast. He looked ahead of everyone as the thing rounded the corner with about as much grace as an enraged gorilla, but that didn't stop it from barreling towards them.

"UH. Guys? What are we doing about that?" He became paralyzed as the mass got closer and made Johan it's target. Sparking off his palm, the centurion tried to make an assault, but as Ren watched and nothing happened, he became hyper focused on how this thing has managed to get right infront of them all. The fate of Johan was clear; he went flying as the meat sack's grotesque fist made contact.

"Johan!" He cried out as the squeaking sound could be heard before a cracking and clattering of crates. "Shit-" Ren made an attempt to head into the room, managing the wrench his feet away from the fear glue that held them, but had to stop and duck down as this beast spun wildly to pursue his prey. It even blocked the doorway leaving the young boy unable to even check on his fallen ally, and with Narzas going ballistic there was only so much he could do.

"What the hell is that thing?" He asked under his breath taking a few steps back. With a double take, he noticed something not too surprising. It was the checker dressed lady making a break for it as the other two fought. "H-hey! Marjorie!" He stammered in shock. He wanted to chase her down, she couldn't be trusted alone, but there were more pressing matters.

He was scared, trembling at this monster that so easily threw around his ally like a twig. He looked down at his feet and closed his eyes. He could see the blue sky beneath him, wispy, fluffy clouds filling it's beauty. He could see all this through the wooden beams that made up the railroad to Nye, the railroad he walked when he was a child in hopes to see the cities beauty. It was a naive decision, thinking a kid so young could feasibly do it. His stubby legs hopping across the gaps that meant life or death, and something in between: fear. Fear that a wrong step would be a plunge into the abyss, crippling fear that broke the young boy over a decade ago. But then he clenched his fists, opened his eyes to the horror that came for blood and swallowed his he'll.

The sharp metallic sound of Ren popping his blades could be heard. "Here goes!" With a vigorous sprint, Ren picked up speed to slide, the floor skidding against his pants as he slashed at the monster's heel to add to the Züanshìn woman's attack. Then, continuing with his built up momentum, Ren went under its legs to the other side with a graceful backflip that planted him back on the cold metal floor. He looked over as Johan got back up, relieved he was still concious after a blow like that. "Old fashioned way." He repeated after the man, raising his armed fists in a traditional boxing stance. The boy was ready to fight like hell.

Jet rozukitsune Lost Echo Huntertabbysandshark3

 

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

Ava Marco
Interaction: Jet Lost Echo ZackStop​

Ava followed the rest of the group as usual lost overthinking something guess it was how she coped with thing just kinda half zoning out but really she was still trying to make sense of what the actual fuck she’d got herself into this time.. it would make a bloody good story tho. The sounds tho snapped her out of her thought something nasty scraping across the ground awful sound not a good one… made extra not good was the fact it was resistant to magic or at least fucked with it.. “iv been throwing punches longer then iv been casting magic“ Ava said with a chuckle only using a bit of magic to effectively summon a rock coating across her arms mildly regretting not bring her sword with her but frankly she didn’t exactly have time to bring it so beating the suit out of it would have to do… then punching the face of the coward that ran off she should have expected that..

 

[Jet]

Kaesa knew Kwame wasn't a mook named Joseph, and the other names were straight from a dime novel. Yet they just wanted information, and compared to roving gangs who wanted her head mounted on a stick, she could work with that. Her pulse slowed and she took a long relieved breath, calming down as the questions rolled in. Yet her face contorted at the sheer number of questions she was asked, like she needed charts and bloody pictures with a pointer.

"How many—" she said as Kilderkin asked another question, and then another... and then another. Kaesa wrote them on a pad to keep track.

"You really know how to interrogate a lass, don't you?" Her brow furrowed with annoyance. "But could we maybe not—"

She gestured at the prison cube. "This seems unnecessary given what you're after. Honestly, you could've just asked if you wanted information?"

The irony wasn't lost on Kwame. He crossed his arms and bit his tongue. "We did."

"No you didn't?" Kaesa said. "What? And can you get these walls?"

Kwame lay his palm on the wall. "Will you run again?"

"Would it do me good?"

"Decisively not."

"Then no," she said. "I'll decisively not run."

Kwame dropped the walls and as they returned to the ground, he spotted the flash of Renee's signal. He motioned to the others and pointed there.

"Maybe one of ours," he said. "Not good, let's walk and talk, shall we?"

He took point and pushed through the swarming crowd, and for each person he barked, "EXCUSE ME."

And gave apologies for his rudeness, while the others walked behind him in his wake. Kaesa was first among them, answering the questions one by one.

"The name's Kaesa." Her mouth curled into a smile, shouting over the droning crowd. "I like your fake names, very convincing. You had me for over twenty seconds."

"Now about those guards," she yelled. "Focused on protecting their masters in city center. The only exceptions are the decent ones — men who ask too many questions. They're getting chewed on the frontlines—"

"You know, it's funny how the mob is cleaning house for the Hydralines, useful idiots the lot of them."

Kaesa shoved past a man who leaned a little too close, his grubby hands almost brushed her chest. She batted away his arm and continued to the next question, unbothered by the racket around them. Yet it would be novel to the others. The noise was constant and the air was hot and sticky, but at least the crowd was passive.

"Local gangs," she began. "Avoid any with political names."

"PLF, NDF, Workers United, Hammers of the Hand, all killers convinced of their self righteousness — would kill babies for their view of the greater good. Worst one is Francisco from the NDF, quite possibly the devil himself."

"Whatever line he feeds you, no matter how great it might seem in the moment, it's said in his self interest. You keep that in mind."

"Irina runs the PLF — People's Liberation Front."

Kaesa shoved away another creep. "She's better by the thinnest of margins, only because she actually wants a better world. But she'd burn it down to rule the utopian ashes."

"The normal criminals are ones you can deal with; Black Hands, Bluejacks. Tunnel Rats and Carmines. You know what you're getting with them."

Kwame pushed through the final few rows of the mob, and before them was open street. The air was suddenly cool and much cleaner than before, for whatever that was worth on Xysma. Kaesa took a deep breath and gave the last answer—

"Lots of foreign agitators, heard there's a Byzantine priest operating out of Zuanshi, here to help destabilize the Nye economy. It sounds like a fucking bar joke."

"There are arms dealers, looters, opportunistic soldiers of fortune, some weird cult coming from the blue sea. They think Nye is sacred and shouldn't have residents, fucking morons the lot of them."

"And finally," she said. "You're always welcome to give me the inside scoop."

Fred Colon Emphoa rozukitsune

 

[Fred Colon]

The reporter, once they had her, was surprisingly willing to converse despite her smart mouth. Kilderkin thought she was being generally truthful though. She seemed relieved that they weren't trying to kill her. Kilderkin supposed that made sense. If she was a reporter she'd be happy to report things.

Kilderkin glanced up when Kwame pointed out the signal. That was both good news and troubling. Good that Renee was alive. She hadn't been sure if she and the others had survived. But, obviously, bad that she felt the need to signal in this way. Kilderkin picked up the pace, as they walked with Kaesa. She would keep an eye out on their surroundings while she listened.

Kilderkin followed slightly behind Kaesa, a remora behind the bulk of a shark, as she shoved her way through the crowd. The first of what she said, about the soldiers, didn't surprise her. Maybe they'd be able to make use of them, but she didn't think so. It sounded like they were on their own.

The Hydralines were certainly benefitting from this, Kilderkin made sure to note. Irina wasn't the only one suspect in that family.

The various organizations, Kilderkin committed to memory. She had no idea when they'd be useful, but she was confident that they would be at some point, if only to use as part of a disguise.

Kilderkin gave a thin smile as Fransiscos name came up.

"Yes. Him. We saw a demonstration of his earlier." She didn't need to be told to avoid him. He probably didn't remember her, but it was better safe than sorry.

The last few things that really struck Kilderkin was the cult that believed Nye shouldn't be inhabited and the Byzantine priest. "And that cult is particularly active where? Do they have a leader? Same question with the Byzantine Priest. And destabilize how?

Kilderkin didn't say anything to Kaesa's request for a scoop. She'd let Kwame decide what they wanted to tell her. Quite aside from that, she felt as if they were leading the reporter into something news worthy. Whether or not that was a good idea? Kilderkin didn't know. But there was little she could do but let things play out.

As they continued to approach the location of the flare, Kilderkin looked to Evaline.
"I don't know if you feel comfortable scoping things out? It might be risky. We don't know what we're heading towards. If Renee is in trouble it might help to know what we're facing before we actually face it. If she's only now sending a signal, I worry that it means its something the others can't handle, which would have to be something quite dangerous to overwhelm Charlie and Zulan. They both seemed more than capable."

Jet Emphoa Mentions: rozukitsune ManofManyRoles EldridSmith

 

[rozukitsune]

​

In the corner of the bar while all this chatter was going on, a man who had mostly not been paying any attention to the conversations buzzing to and fro in the hidden space tilted his head slightly as some of the conversation died down to let the old Merchant talk. Generally, due to the hated nature of being stuck down here for no goddamned reason, he kept his head low and minded his P's and Q's with the hope he'd one day be recognized for his hard work and stiff upper lip. He took the shit from the guards with grace and then drank away his sorrows in this place out of their sight. At present, he was using alcohol to numb the pain of the day as per usual. But the abnormal silence as the ridiculous old man spoke to some group of newbies who'd just wandered in was too irritating to ignore. Annoyed by the interruption of his usual habit, he lent an ear to the proceedings - as hungry for gossip in this place as anyone would be after locked up in this shit hole for years with no end in sight.

As soon as mention of the Yellow King came up though, he scoffed into his drink. "Feh. First jou say he is hunting for air and then jou say it is something so valuable that stealing it will surely set us free." He looked up from his shot of moonshine and glared at the old fool, utterly unmoved. "How many thousands of people have died here searching for this valuable thing, eh?" He asks, taking a shot and grimacing at the taste as it burned down his throat. "Jou should not listen to old fools with their wives tales of treasure that can set you up for life, niña. They are sure to lead you to getting clapped in irons and worked to death like the rest of us." He finally looked up at the travelers then, lifting up his shot glass with an intent to toast to their stupidity if they did decided to listen to the old rumormonger and ignore him -

But then he recognized one of their number.

He dropped the glass and it shattered on the floor beneath him as he stared, slack-jawed at the spellbinding redhead with the long braid standing there with her carefully interested expression. "Aye dios mio..." He grunted, too stunned by this ghost from the past to do anything more than gawk. "What the hell are you doing here?"

EldridSmith Monbon Jet

 

[rozukitsune]

She did her best to huddle in the shadows, watching the alley entrance and the door she'd escaped through for any sign of movement. Hell she watched the rooftops for good measure. There was no way she was getting out of this scott free right?! The others were lost and if help didn't arrive soon then they were just going to catch up with her again.

Seconds passed that felt like minutes. Hours. An eternity. Yet it wasn't as if she could just go somewhere. Run away. There were people on this Island who were out for blood. People who would be happy to nail her head on a pike if they recognized who she was and thusly where she'd come from. She gave in to her terror and cried into her knees. She was totally going to die here and no one would ever remember her.

Then a sound reached her ears. People, talking. Nervously, she poked her head slightly out from around her hiding place to look. If it was Irina then she was dead meat for sure... she was no master of stealth even in a dirty black hoodie and pants. Still, the options were look or sit here until she was found and if she was going to die she would rather not do it by starving to death.

Weird place to split hairs.

When she saw Kwame and Kilderkin approaching though she nearly wept again with relief. She was saved! The person with them was new but hardly even mattered. She scurried out from behind the dumpster she'd been hiding behind and threw herself at them, landing at their feet in a heap.

"The others..." She gasped, moaning with sorrow, "There was a fight. Irina didn't like 'no'. She has them. I ran away." She explained in broken stammers, her eyes filling up with large tears and flowing freely down her cheeks in earnest. "I'm sorry."

@ Jet @ Emphoa @ ManofManyRoles @ EldridSmith

 

[Monbon]

Euclaire Huilotzin
​

A merchant, huh? Euclaire took mental notes as the merchant rambled on. It was both unnerving and reassuring that it was a merchant who approached them first. On one hand, he likely wouldn’t have approached them if there wasn’t anything to gain. On the other, she’d butted heads with enough merchants to know that the gains and losses wouldn’t always be fair.

But that was fine, she wasn’t one to play fair either.

Twirling a stray lock, she started to lose interest as he answered her own question by telling her a whole lot of nothing. Not of this world? Isn’t that just a nice way of saying ‘I don’t know’. Spawn of devils? Not only did they not know, there was fear there. Though it was not without reason…

The splash of blood she vaguely recalled before blacking out flashed through her mind. If that did belong to the girl, at the very least it told her that she could be harmed.

In the midst of her thinking, another poor soul chipped in. A familiar sounding one at that. Tilting her head in his direction, Euclaire was surprised to find a familiar face. Too familiar really. She was so put off by his sudden appearance after she'd taken the trouble of vanishing from his life without a single word of farewell, that she hardly registered what he was saying, only that it was nothing good judging from his tone.

The moment he turned to fully take her into his sight, Euclaire suppressed the distain and lifted her brows into something closer to excitement, her smile bright and warm as if his sudden appearance was a shining beacon of hope in this hellhole they'd found themselves in. "Mi Angel~!" She practically sang out and made her way towards him. Her footsteps were light as she avoided the glass shards on the floor on her little trip to take a seat beside him.

Settling in, she slumped against his shoulder almost helplessly, coiling her arms around his tatted one like a snake slithering up a branch for comfort. "Now, now don't go making that face. Are any of us here for any good reason?" She replied, answering his question with one of her own. "I don't suppose you're here on vacation to sing and pick up more helpless damsels, mi cariño." Teasing him, her fingers traced up the arm she was hugging as if it were a lifeline, reading the names on it in order to find her own. Satisfied with what she found, Euclaire finally released him and sat up straight.

"To sum it up, there was a shipwreck and we were separated from our friends. Now, we're here. Captive." She explained briefly with a shrug as if the matter had nothing to do with her. If her disheveled state was anything to go by, it should have been enough to tell him that everything after the wreck itself wasn't anything good. "Since you have so much to say, I do wonder if you have a better plan out of this than the one this old coot is proposing. He hasn't given me the exact details yet but you know how I am." Even if one ignored the fact the Centurion's life was basically in the hands of people with no resources, she was probably the one most willing to give anything a shot. Life was a gamble and she loved taking her chances if it meant a little thrill.

rozukitsune Jet EldridSmith

 

[ZackStop]

"Damnit..." That word repeated in her head. She felt so weak that it was torture how she continued to push through the fatigue in her condition, and yet knowing this the young woman couldn't help but curse herself. She thought it was weakness, kneeling on the dirt like her knees were glued to it and hunching over as she couldn't hold down what little she had in her stomach. The only silver lining was that no one was here to see it. There were little perks to being unliked; no one bothers looking at you when you're at your lowest.

She could remember a time when she was on the streets of the outlands and young, almost too young to remember, but that pain is too harsh to ever forget. A small girl with nothing to wear but tattered cloth and used bandage wrappings, which was numerous with the influx of stabbings at the time. She could faintly remember the smell and cool air that passed down her alley. No one on that island was well off, but there were the more fortunate ones. She recalled the sight of their legs walk by the mouth of the alley where she sat, how they all almost blended together and faded like ghosts, husks of what they once were or could have become. Regardless what their walk of life was, they didn't bother acknowledge her, except one on a fateful day.

Tears ran down her face as she gagged and gagged, when her stomach told her 'no more', purging itself in an attempt to make whatever this pain was go away. She gripped dirt into her clenching fists just wishing all the pain in her heart would go away so a coolness could replace the fire. But that is something that may never be extinguished and all but strengthened her resolve. She wanted her suffering to go away but if that could not be achieved then it would be Nye that suffers too, and if she had to burn so would it.

Ilana slammed her fist into the ground and with what power she had restored, helped form a rock like shelter and jutted out from below her. It's shape formed around and incased her in crude box, but somehow more competent than previous creations. What little light from the evening provided was snuffed out as the girl plunged herself in darkness. In the next few moments of silence came slamming and slithering from within before the girl broke free of her cocoon. Through the top she emerged falling back onto the dirt floor where she sat, propped up against the stone that she promptly slammed a fist into, closing the roof of this prison she made for her familiar. Without it she was a girl covered in scars from near death experiences. She gritted her teeth as she let her hair down that stuck to the sides of her sweaty skin.

Her vision began to blur, seeing double as she sat there for several minutes to take in this feeling of weight off her shoulders. Ilana slowly got up and wobbled back towards the light of the building they had been taken to. She knew fully that separating from her familiar was risky, so she counted her paces carefully, and when she made it to the doorframe she stopped to catch her breath. It was all she could do to not collapse before them. She felt half dead. A good night's sleep for once might not cure her, but it was a start to recovery.

Jet Goliath Emphoa ManofManyRoles

 

[Jet]

The evening bled into night and night into the morning, or perhaps the morning bled into the afternoon, and the afternoon into the evening. There was no time here. There was no sun and moon. No stars above them, just a simmering glow from the walls of the labrynthian, shining just enough to bother a man's sleep. Adrian awoke with dismay at his lack of orientation, like his internal clock had been smashed into fine pieces. He felt discordant and disconnected from the world, like he'd stepped into the fever dream of a mad engineer, trapped like a rat within his trap.

The inhumanity bothered him too. The walls and floors were too clean, too perfect and uniform. Not a single instance of inconsistency, and without a single tool mark or poorly fitted segment. In those inconsistencies lay the humanity, he supposed. The little differences between each worker building a corridor, and how those differences manifested in the build. With some workers being more perfect than others, leaving little trace, where others left small differences when they worked.

He furrowed his brow at the ground rumbled again. He wondered why nobody had mentioned it yet — was he being paranoid? His gaze moved to Bean and his carefree conversation, swapping words with Marigold and Vixie. They were too carefree. His leader especially. It was the classic case of confusing strength with leadership ability, as if Bean could lead himself to breakfast.

He watched the others picking up their tents. It was ridiculous to waste space on them, as if they needed protection from elements inside a subterranean tunnel. He looked away before his eyes betrayed his judgement, it was too early in his day — though who knew the actual time — for bickering to commence. He stood and gathered his few possessions, sliding his swords into his belt, and eating pemmican from a pouch within his satchel. He drank gingerly from his water, half to sate his thirst and half to wash away the taste.

"That rumbling," he said to them, catching the attention of Marigold and Bean. "Do you have any idea what it is?"

"Not a clue!" Marigold cheered his waterskin with Bean, apparently they'd reconciled their differences. It was a friendship made in the deepest levels of hell. "I've worked on some theories to explain this... most vibrant of vibrational mysteries. These marvelous modes of audible modulation, moreover—

He was interrupted by another rumbling, but this one much louder than before. It was like an earthquake hit them as the vibration ripped through the cramped space, with the sound of crunching gears and metal scraping against metal. The hallways around them in their juncture, with four paths leading away from their small camp, slowly moved in a clockwise rotation, and within the hallways branching away from them, walls slid across and new pathways formed.

Adrian stepped back with a stern expression. His mouth pursed and his teeth found purchase on each other, clamping down like he was chewing leather.

Marigold and Bean stood with the same disbelief, as all around them in their small, isolated camp, the labyrinth changed its form. Marigold released a long sigh and said, "I see we've stumbled upon a most serious of situations, serendipitously however, my navigation seems not to be the problem!"

"Rather," he said with a sudden frown. "My love who guided me through this maze, may her undying beauty be everlasting, did not inform me of this complication. I must apologize on her behalf for the mixup."

"Mixup?" Adrian stared daggers at him. "We will die unless we're lucky."

Marigold didn't speak and Bean went cold, Adrian looked down the hallway without speaking. There was a tension growing between them, that the labyrinth was far more dangerous than they initially believed, and it was far too late to do anything about it.

Arcanist Goliath Anne Boolean

 

[Jet]

His mouth twitched for a moment so fleeting and small, it could barely be said to exist. He leaned back in his chair and brushed his hand across the perspiring glass of his drink. It was the same temperature as the chill in his eyes. He'd extended Euclair respect, invited her in a place where she had no business. He'd extended an offer beyond what a normal prisoner could hope to achieve, and the only response was dismissal. He was only held back by her use. The danger she carried like a viper. He would contain himself for now, but if he was tested again, he would not be so forgiving.

"You mistake caution for ignorance, boldness for insanity. I have no reason to share my knowledge with a passing stranger, only to an ally will my tongue loose."

He turned his calculating gaze upon the tattooed man, a hopeless fool without ambition, happy to die drinking prison swill. "You have no business with us," the merchant said. "Drink your poison and be silent, ahmaq min alhamqaa. If you count her a friend—"

He gestured at Euclair. "Then do not stand in her way. You see there is no negotiations here, no escape from this prison, no sentence to commute. We work, live and die for nothing, and freedom will come by taking what the king desires. If you would prefer to work tirelessly as a donkey pulling a laden plow—"

This time he gestured at a pickaxe sitting in the corner, "Then mine until your back breaks like many shards of glass, until you crawl across the ground like a worm. I will not waste any more of my time convincing you. Have you ambition such as I? Or have you given up like your friend?"

He cast a scornful glance at the drunkard once again. The man represented everything he hated. The emptiness mixed with arrogance and the way he drank rivers of ale. The way hope seemed to die around him. The merchant clicked his teeth and regrettably wondered, if he would end up the same way. There was no guarantee he would succeed after all, and if he failed, perhaps the same nihilism awaited him in the end.

Monbon rozukitsune

 

[rozukitsune]

​

The old man's words grated on him. What the fuck did he know about Angel? What the fuck did he know about anything? Still... he had more pressing matters as Euclair dumped herself in his lap and began petting him like a long-lost lover. He froze, eyebrows twitching and jaw clenching so much he thought he might crack his own teeth in his mouth under the pressure. This damned snake of a woman (a rather richly ironic sentiment coming from him) was treating him like he belonged to her. Like she'd missed him. His muscles flexed automatically under her touch as did other things that he'd have rather not thought about around her. Once, perhaps... this display of affection might have moved him. Might have made him smile and break out his guitar and burst into song and dance.

Now though? When all was naught but endless drudgery until his life gave out and he surrendered himself to la muerte final?


"Get. Off." He grunted testily, hating the way his nostalgic reactions made him feel. Steeling himself, he glanced over at the old man - his mouth a thin line of misery. "She is no friend of mine, señor. Tell her all the stories jou like. It makes no difference to me."

Euclair's question did throw him off though. A better idea? To escape? She had to be joking. Well... she did mention that she'd been shipwrecked here and captured. That was almost as bad as his own reasons for being here. The Yellow King would never be satisfied...

He frowned unhappily, something shifting out from under the rock of despair that had been his existence. He might have been willing to accept his own fate - stuck down here until he died a quiet, unremarkable death... but when the old man put it like that so openly it was a lot harder to simply pass it off and drink it away. He sighed and shook his disheveled head, "No, mi amor." The words were sarcastic and bitter but resigned, "My plans have ever been a soggy mess, as you well know." He waved his free arm in a shoo-ing motion, surrendering her back to the void from whence she'd come. "If anyone down here still has the cojones to defy the king... jou should probably listen to him." It jostled his sleeping heart, to be kind where he had no interest to do so... but someone like Euclair didn't really deserve to be down here like he did. If she could get out... then she should.

Jet Monbon

 

[Jet]

​

The creature once had a name. He remembered the sound but not the meaning behind it. He remembered that once he was human. That once he would converse and smile with others like him, but then there was a pain, a white room, a man wearing glasses. There was searing pain and hunger. That which human blood would sate. The hunger was all that drove him now. There was no room for kindness or rational thought, and his stomach widened at their smell, their sight. Their skin untouched by the pain. He wanted to sink his teeth until he reached the bone.

The pain of being stabbed didn't stop him. The pain of his ankles was enough to make him stumble, but the hunger made him stand. It was enough to drive him across the world for that exquisite taste. That delicate texture of red velvet on his tongue. He roared and swung his arm back because of the hunger, with swiftness so unnatural for a creature of his size, almost ten feet tall and built with thick corded muscle, like the wires holding up a bridge. His forearm slammed into Narzas, sending her back in the same way as Johan. In the same motion he flailed his leg into Ren's chest. There was no finesse in the movement, no discernable form or technique. It was a toddler slamming his leg into a toy he wanted to break, and as Ren skidded back across the cold steel floor, perhaps something did.

Johan stood before the creature. He was wiry and not supple like the women. The wiry man screamed after the one who ran away, words like "Coward," and "Mistake," came from his snarling lips, but that meant little to the creature. He walked forwards as Johan threw knives into his chest, each one hardly dented his gaping hunger. Even as black blood poured from his wounds. The creature lunged forwards but Johan dove from his grasp, clattering against a table and knocking it over. There was a crash and a bang, silverware bounced from the floor and plates shattered into shards.

The creature doubled over for a moment, holding its head as the silverware came to rest. He clutched his head and swayed in that same fleeting moment, before grabbing the table and hoisting it from the ground. It was made of steel yet he threw it like a child throwing a ball, cutting through the air towards Narzas. The wiry man screamed something again, perhaps it was a name, and he ran forwards with rage in his eyes. The creature knew what rage looked like. It was dangerous and hot like a fire.

"No," the creature garbled before punching Johan with the same unnatural swiftness, a blurred motion in their eyes. He sent Johan flying back into the nearest wall, doubled over with blood trickling from his nose.

Johan looked up with haze in his eyes. In twenty years he'd only experienced it twice, once when Bean and Dalton had taken turns beating him, the other was now, facing this monster. It occurred that in a battle of physical strength, against a beast of such physical power, they were like initiates fighting a centurion. However there was something he noticed when the table fell over, something that doubled over the beast. Maybe that was the key.

He glanced at Narzas and Ren, both had been hit just as hard. He dared not look away from the creature for more than a moment, not when it moved like quicksilver in a glass. He took another pair of knives from his coat, a last resort but now it was first. He took careful aim and as the monster lunged for Ren again, he threw it into the same place Ren stabbed moments before.

It was enough to cause another stumble, and maybe enough to save Ren from another hit.

Johan stood and blew blood from his nostril, maybe his nose was broken. He wasn't sure with the haze floating in his head. "If it comes to it," he began. "I'll keep it distracted while you three run."

He knew Narzas would never agree to leave him behind, but he wouldn't watch her die, not if they were so completely outmatched. "Nye would send an entire company if they knew what was down here, would clear out the whole place top to bottom."

He eyed the creature warily. "But I think we can take it. Keep hammering its legs until it drops. Won't be so damned fast when it's crippled."

rozukitsune Huntertabbysandshark3 ZackStop

 

[rozukitsune]

Honestly it was quite impressive the thing could bend its arms (or had the right joints) to get an arm up to her on its back and fling her off it like that. Those arms were like thick steel cables of solid muscle. The moment they swept upward she let go of the knives and jumped back with the motion so as to lessen the impact. An unfortunate loss - but she had more knives. She only had one of her.

She alighted upon the moving arm in its flight trajectory without getting injured, holding on and judging its arc and velocity before it finished and getting tossed across the room. She slipped through the air like a gymnast and landed on the vertical surface like a cat, spry and prepared to meet the sudden stop with long practiced maneuvers that any acrobatic sort might know to deaden an impact so as not to get their bones broken. Her muscles protested but... that was a forgivable failure considering how fast she'd been flying.

Unfortunately, she was just too engrossed in the activity to notice the thing had thrown something else after her. She heard the sound of her name and looked up too late to find a table hurtling toward her. With no time to react and no magic to access, she merely brought up her arms, hunched down and twisted to protect her center of mass on pure instinct. It was barely enough.

The table crashed into her, injuring her right arm and shoving her into the wall she'd just slid down. The other arm received the same treatment and the force of the whiplash caused her to crack her head against one of the vertical objects. She crumpled beneath them, the table at the very least falling with her to form a sort of protective tent-like-shield as it met with the wall on her other side and at last lay still. She heard nothing else of what was said for the time being - her focus and righteous fury stolen from her by unconciousness.

-

​

"COWARD!"

Marjorie stopped part-way down the tunnel, blinking into the yellowy darkness as Johan's desperate, angry cry came after her. She shouldn't care about that kind of thing. Shouldn't care about these people who were nothing more than a lot of paperwork once she got back to her people. This was what they wanted. She had delivered this pile of trash to the dump as she had been instructed. Perhaps it was not the way she'd wanted them to go, but the job would be done - and maybe she'd find a self-destruct button somewhere on her way out and then tell the submarine captain to get her out of there with the greatest urgency.

But ... to be perfectly honest... it wasn't really that word alone that had stopped her but the second one. The one that tore at her soul and her sense of reason.

Whatever else he had said was garbled in all the growling and all the sound of silverware clattering everywhere. But she had clearly heard the word 'mistake' reverberate down the tunnels. She closed her eyes. Tried to fight it. Tried to fight the rising tide of bitter anger and regret such a word stirred within her. The cry of her stupid meat-brain and its stupid emotions to turn back. Maybe she had been wrong about what she had seen between those two. Maybe there was still time. Still a chance. It was stupid. Really, incredibly, stupid. But even the psychotic have things they aren't willing to bend on. Johan was simply not allowed to die. Not here at least. Not until her revenge could be complete.

Cursing herself, she turned back just in time to see the creature holding its head as the last of the silverware chimed to stillness. That gave her an idea. She walked purposefully back toward the battle and lifted her voice. She might not be able to enthrall it - stupid undersea habitat and its stupid noises giving her just the worst fucking headache. But... nothing said she couldn't irritate it. She knew her craft after all. She could give them an edge. She took a deep breath and then raised her voice to hit as close to the pitch of the fallen tableware as she could, carefully adjusting and modulating the tone and vibration of her vocal chords as she made it ring through the room as she returned to its entry point. She stayed there for the moment, watching to see if her ploy would even work.

Jet Huntertabbysandshark3 ZackStop

 

[Monbon]

Euclaire Huilotzin

"Venga, don't get upset." Euclaire consoled the two with a carefree smile, and sat back up in her chair, giving Angel his much needed space. "If you want an ally, I can give you that much." She turned towards the old merchant. "I'd rather regret an action made rather than regret one I haven't taken. But why not make this interesting and add in one more to the party? Unless you had others in mind beyond myself and my injured friend." Gesturing with an open palm to the grumpy drunk beside her, Euclaire volunteered him for the job on the spot. It was simply the nature of her relationships with most people, a lot of pushing and pulling 'til the other caved.

"Drunkard he may be, but he's got a working set of hands and is very reliable as long as this king of yours has no beauties to entice him with. As a bonus, he comes free of any gaping holes that'd get in the way! I'd say he will do just fine." Patting Angel on the shoulder, Euclaire eagerly brought him into this troubling situation if only to bring up their success rate.

"Think of the ballad that can come of this, Angel." She gently persuaded him, unsure how bad a hit his spirit took being locked down here for who knows how long. "Don't you miss the surface? The sun, the music, the crowds, the women, the smiles. Come with me, we'll get back and it'll be like this was just a really bad nightmare." Getting to her feet, she returned to the old man's side as if to emphasize her stance. "At the very least the drinks will taste better than whatever they have in this cesspit. If you're going to drink yourself to death, you may as well do it where there will be people to mourn you. I can't dance on your grave if you're lying here forgotten like the rest of those rotting in this pit."

As empty as her promises were, Euclaire figured that if they were to die, it was better to die trying than to wallow in darkness and fade into obscurity like you never existed to begin with.​

rozukitsune Jet

 

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

Ava Marco
Interaction: Jet rozukitsune ZackStop​

yeah ok.. so this thing was definetly a bit much even for Ava she knew when to cut her losses at least it was the only damn reason she was in one peace especially where she lived.. again she cursed under her breath that she didn't bring her damned sword if she had that she was sure she could have kicked this things ass why did everyone have to bring such pissy tiny weapons ava letting out a irritated sigh mixed in with the fear and adrenaline running through her vains. However reaching behind her she’d facepalm the damn thing was there the whole bloody time ok she could work with this broadsword vs momster yeah..

it seemed like everyone else was gonna stay, good if they worked together they might be able to do something? johan having stuck its legs, one of there number getting knocked unconcius by a table ouch that would leave a mark but there was still 4 of them fighting one.. massive monster.. that would be enough? probably?

taking the sword off her back she’d rush forward to take a wide swing at the beast it wouldn’t be at it legs that would be awkward but she could probably get it lodged into one of the thing arms and maybe cut it off.