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Post by Veliky on Oct 28, 2022 20:05:34 GMT -5
Clashing swords, firing crossbows and a high chance of civilian casualties: another day in the business.
Veliky tightens her glove and stands stoically against the chaos, an intense and undaunted expression on her cherubic face.
"Not going to happen."
Veliky stands, but the mercenary looms.
"Heh heh, that so?"
Just as the menacing bastion ends his taunt, a Rook bot drops down from a nearby rock, running up behind the mercenary unheard - or so it thought. It swings, but the merc's conjured arm bends backward, deflecting the ambush like a rooftop deflects rain: with effortless ease.
The merc turns and swings one of his shields laterally, with enough force to easily shatter a spine - even a steel one - but Rook stumbles out of its reach. The force of wind brushes Rook's face, making a high-pitched whistle.
The merc steps forward, indomitable like a moving mountain. Rook backs away; with lifeless, calculated desperation, it slashes left and right as it does, each impact sending electricity across the shields' surfaces, but it seems the sword's more likely to shatter than even cause a dent[2].
The merc clashes his shields together, making an impenetrable wall of steel or whatever thick, dark metal the shields are made from. Then, even with no way of seeing through the shields, he charges toward Rook, shields grinding against the stone below and sending sparks. Rook makes on last fruitless slash before being caught in the juggernaut's path, impaled on the spikes[3] and thrown to the ground in a heap - not disabled, but damaged.
The merc grunts as he lifts his shields back into place; the combined weight of his armaments is surely hell on his spine. Able to see again, his first sight is another bot - the trident-wielding Fisher bot - advancing toward him. His face is puzzled, yet amused, like the humour of hearing a drunk trying to use logic.
"Fancy toys you've got here!"
Fisher lunges with a terrible, aimless thrust. The merc just lazily pushes to both away with a shield.
"Try again."
Another attempt, as ordered. Fisher tries to jam the trident into his legs, but is repelled in exactly the same fashion.
"Nope."
Already, Fisher's been lacerated by the jagged spikes[3]. It may as well be trying to grapple a thorn bush. But Blixtbots™ just don't know how to relent without permission. Another attack: a feint! Surprisingly deceptive from such an axiomatic being. But a feint is worthless when all of Fisher's attacks are negated in precisely the same manner.
"You just ain't doin' it right."
Fisher's joints hiss as it readies to strike again, but it only falls to its knees, leaking Blixt™ from its now-countless cuts. The metal-enshrouded man chuckles at the sight.
"Tell me somethin'," he says with brazen condescension before turning to Veliky. "When you took this job, did they tell you you'd be escortin' a group of fugitives from Darkveil?"
No, they sure as Hell didn't. Veliky grits her teeth. They were obviously hiding something; Veliky really needs a better way to get information from people. This would've been very good to know.
...She would've still taken the job, obviously. She just would've asked for more solars.
"They paid. They're getting through. Doesn't matter who they are."
"Hah!" His one-pronged chortle is ridiculous, but with an undertone of legitimate surprise. "Damned straight it doesn't! I don't care if they were refugee-orphans lookin' for their dead mommas. Pay is pay, am I right?!" His tone is violently zealous, making Veliky wince in revolt. He raises his arms - and his shields - theatrically.
Ker-CHEW!
A crackling bolt flies from behind Veliky, over her head and into the merc's! He stumbles back in a daze, but, fortunately for him and unfortunately for Veliky, the bolt only clangs and dents his helm[4].
He looks past the quarterling, to where the travellers still cower. Bishop is beside them, kneeling on its good knee and already reloading its crossbow.
The merc's snarling stare is the last straw. The travellers back away in fear, then turn tail and begin to flee.
But the crossbowman takes immediate notice. He reaches into a case on his hip and takes three special, black-tipped bolts from it before loading them. He aims and fires at the cliffside above the travellers, where they explode upon impact! The crags have been disturbed from their slumber. The earth trembles, and detritus of all shapes and sizes rain down from above. Boulders fill the pass behind the party, sealing any chance of escape! The flaming horse-bot, Envy, is crushed beneath the rubble.
However, this diversion does come with a cost. It gives Sarris a moment of reprieve from the bowman's sights. What will she do with this opportunity.
The shield merc watches dust and pebbles falling around him, ogling the destruction like a child in a candy shop.
"Heh heh hahh! I love this job." His eyes fall on Rook and Fisher, both now rising to their feet with rhythmic hissing. "Round two? Well, you shouldn't have!"
1. Enchanting Sigil [Lightning Rune] 2. Stalwart Armor (Double Dipper) 3. Spike Attachment (Double Dipper) 4. Helm (Double Dipper)
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Post by Sarris on Oct 28, 2022 20:48:12 GMT -5
Crying wouLd have been easy. So would giving up. The girl had a choice to make. Try to mend the machines or try to kill the crossbow man. As the talking and taunting got worse the decision became easy. He pushed the maternal button They would kill children and that gave Sarris the resolve she needed. It took more concentration than normal but she turned herself invisible and moved. A bolt tinker off the helmet and nearly hit her.
After the crossbow man shot, the invisible Sarris jumped on his back. Finger nails went for his eyes, and with her right hand she stabbed wildly at the side of the man’s throat and her legs wrapped around his waist.
There might have been some very unladylike screams about being a child killer and a few thing in dwarfism that she thought were profanity but were not added in to this.
A big meaty hand kit her in the wounded leg which made her scream. But her small blade had found the blood vessels and wind pipe in his neck.
As he fell backward on top of her gurgling and gasping there was a trunk like a hollow watermelon being dropped. His head hit a rock and he lay on top of Sarris.
She played dead hoping that her attack would distract the other two and give her partners and advantage.
Now the Bastions would need to advance.
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Post by Caedes Oleander on Nov 1, 2022 12:55:08 GMT -5
Dirt kicks up from the soles of Caedes’ boot as he dodges and parries the swordsman’s strikes, but it’s not a motion he can keep up for long. Dodge right, parry left— the double sided nature of the swordsman’s blade leaves him at its mercy no matter where he attempts to go— and he doesn’t have enough range to keep this up for long... So he makes a tactical retreat. He needs distance; and he needs to leave his enemy’s line of sight; as fast as possible. Steel and a slosh of viscous liquid streak through the air as the swordsman swings upwards, laughing wildly while Caedes stumbles from their range. “ Where ya goin’!?” Even their voice is slimy, dripping thick in the chaos of battle; Caedes sprints away from them. Meanwhile, the swordsman is practically skipping after him— like they’re playing a much more innocent game than the assassin knows they actually are. “ Don’t make this harder on yourself, pretty boy!” He keeps booking it towards the boulders that the mercenaries had originally appeared behind with hopes of breaking the swordsman’s line of sight for but a moment… But in the same breadth of the second that Caedes looks over his shoulder, a blur of motion shoots past him. (1) Dread settles cold in his stomach. He skids to a stop, lashing out with his dagger in a pre-emptive defense; he hits metal, but not enough— the sharp of his blade scrapes toxins from the blade of the swordsman in a lateral swipe. He sees sharp, yellowed teeth crack into a grin from beyond the motion blur of the swordsman’s weapon. Every nerve in his shoulder explodes in a blistering, boiling pain; a fleshy schlink resounds as the swordsman drives his blade between his collarbone and shoulder. Caedes stops dead in his sprint, only to be yanked forwards as the swordsman curls his fingers beneath the collar of his shirt and pulls him further into the blade. He chokes on the feeling of fire seeping into his skin, boiling beneath the surface (2) and creeping up his neck; his pale eyes are spiteful and narrowed as he stares into the swordsman’s gross, distorted smirk. “ Would’a much preferred the lassie, but I suppose you’re a bit pretty, too.” Eugh. Caedes grimaces, grasping onto a bare section of the swordsman’s forearm in a way that might seem like a helpless gesture of desperation at first; his nails sink into the swordsman’s skin— and then his eyes go dark. Shadows twist and writhe against the swordsman’s skin from the palm of his hand; they spike into him like needles, following the highway of veins beneath his armour. (3) The swordsman shrieks in surprise, releasing Caedes’ from his grasp— but he doesn’t release him. With a firm grasp, Caedes holds him while he struggles— until he rips his sword from Caedes’ shoulder. The wound reopens, but little blood is actually shed from it, despite the intense, searing pain he feels from the toxin. “ Get off, get off, get off!” He swings, and Caedes ducks beneath his arm; the motion pulls the swordsman’s arm to the other side, and he leads him into an awkward twist— manipulating the swordsman’s position until he’s forced to turn with him… or dislocate his arm. A dagger slams into the swordsman’s rib cage, and Caedes finally releases him— he staggers at first, feeling the wind tunnel of frantic and berserk swings of the swordsman’s weapon inches behind his back. It’s his chance, though— to lose sight of him— and he tries to take it. Caedes collides with the boulder, his vision unsteady— blurring slightly in his left eye as the poison slowly spreads its way through his system. Without a beating heart, however— it’s not working with much. He looks over his shoulder at the scene while he has a brief respite; the swordsman is going berserk, the shieldsman is approaching Veliky, and Sarris… he spots Sarris lying beneath the crossbowman. He doesn’t know if she’s okay, but he hopes she is. He doesn’t have time to check. The assassin disappears behind the boulders, while the swordsman staggers slowly to their senses; shadows emerge from around the set of boulders, obscuring it with the assassin.(4)
(1) Dashing Enchantment (Cheese Hands)
(2) Poisoned Enchantment (Cheese Hands)
(3) Vampiric Touch (Caedes) (4) Smouldering Cape (Caedes)
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Post by Veliky on Nov 2, 2022 0:24:10 GMT -5
Weapons are thrust from two sides, but the armoured mercenary blocks them both at once, and the bots lacerate themselves in the process. It's like trying to fight against an urchin made of steel. The bots try to push through, but he throws them back, both at once.
Rook is quicker to recover. It immediately returns with a slash. Unsurprised, the merc blocks high before slamming the bottom of the shield down on the bot's toes. In a visceral instant, its steel bones are snapped in half. The mercenary flings Rook away so easily that he makes the bot's three-hundred-pound frame seem as light as a scarecrow.
"Hah! This is fun! Where'd you get these? They'd work real well as-" He brutally knocks a weekend Fisher's trident aside. "-training dummies!" He raises a greave and kicks it into the bot's core, sending it sprawling.
Both bots cling to mechanical existence. After being constantly, unremittingly knocked to the ground so many times, they've begun to erode jagged lines in the stone.
But the merc realizes, with dread, that the battle is not so one-sided as he'd thought. As Fisher falls, he sees, behind it, the bleeding corpse of one of his colleagues. His jove twists into anger.
"Oh, you spoiled, little... You just made a big mistake. Playtime's over!"
He grips his shields tightly marches for defenceless Fisher; somehow, his footfalls crash even louder than the clanking steps of the bots.
Ker-CHEW!
Another bolt, and another strike! This one lands directly in the mercenary's back, sticking into his cuirass[1].
"Grr! Son of a-"
A blade is swung at his head. Only just in time, he brings forth his great, steel wall to intercept. Where metal meets, lightning crackles! With a pop of electricity, Rook is sent skidding back on iron talons, and sent further when blocks a brutal shield-bash.
Meanwhile, Fisher slips back and out of immediate danger while Bishop advances forward! It fires another bolt; this one bounces off the steel wall, but it marks a new stage in the skirmish: an assault on two fronts has become an assault on three, and it would soon become an assault on four.
Frantic clanking, barely audible through the battle, marks the approach of yet another golem: one of the enigmatic, canine-based Lag Switch series.
The shieldmaster greets the new opponent with a sneer. He brings three of his shields together, behind him, to ward off the gambit bots while holding the fourth to defend against the hound.
He digs the shield into the stone. The hound's limbs hiss, and it leaps, directly into the jagged spikes that would tear its tin flesh... only to pass right through. The mercenary's eyes widen as he sees the steel jaws phase directly through his shield.
The Lag Switch is upon him, clinging to his torso and tearing through his mail as he flails in a furious attempt the shake it off.
"Zut sheg! Get the hell off, you mangy little- grah!"
Its iron teeth dig through the padding[2], grazing flesh!
At last, the bots have the upper hand! Fisher and Rook advance while Bishop aims another bolt. A final, flanking attack should put an end to the mercenary's wrath.
"You think it's that easy?!"
As it seems that doom is closing in, the mercenary brings all four of his shields together, around him, forming a steel cylinder that almost completely encapsulates him and the hound. A sword clangs on one side while a trident blunts against another and a bolt ricochets into the cliffside. It's a halted advance, but they've put the merc on the defensive, right?
Unfortunately, the defensive is exactly where he excels.
He tightens his grip on the shields. Suddenly, out of all four of the shields, the spikes launch outward, in all directions! Unwelcome steel penetrates Rook, Fisher and Bishop's tin hulls, spilling Blixt™ onto the ground, and the three bots collapse to the stone.
He lifts the shields, revealing himself. He uses one to pry the yowling hound-bot from his chest before bringing his boot down on its head with an ugly crunch.
He looks up, seething, at the source of his woes: the little quarterling quartermaster herself. She looks wide-eyed at the man who just decimated her entire mechanical force.
"You know what? I take it back. I ain't savin' you for last, and ain't nobody's savin' you from me."
...No choice. Veliky isn't keen, and never is, on one-on-one combat. But this bastard just cost her over 100 solars in bot repairs and replacements. He isn't getting with that.
She bends her knees and holds herself in a wholly undisciplined and untrained stance.
"That won't be a problem."
1. Cuirass Strike Prevention (Double Dipper) 2. Padding Strike Prevention (Double Dipper) 3. Loaded Spikes (Double Dipper)
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Post by Sarris on Nov 5, 2022 7:11:33 GMT -5
Sarris laid still till after the assassin moved past her. It was hard to lay underneath a man who had blood pulsing out of him and a unnatural wheeze. She did her best to stay still and mask her breathing.
As the man started to fight with Veliky, Sarris started to slide towards the dropped crossbow. One shot, be loaded with one shot, she thought.
Sarris hand found the crossbow and she pulled it towards her. As she grabbed it, she rolled the man partially off her, lifted the crossbow, quickly aimed for his back and fired at the man’s back as he was fighting Veliky. She aimed for the neck hoping to hit him in the back.
Having been around knights she had learned that her bow had little chance of penetrating iron armor. The arrow would hit and deflect of break. The tip flying off would do more damage to exposed skin. She had also seen the knight training to stand and take arrow shots. From the front armor almost always won. But the back of a suit was thinner and that was why it was important to have someone have your back. Back to back the two knights would be protected. The flatness of the armor and the thinness made it so even her short bow had a chance to go through that armored spot. The crossbow had more punch at a short range.
Big factors came into play with her shot. The first was that she was wounded so she was not breathing normal. Being on the ground and shooting a different weapon, and basic female anatomy all factored in. The shot went a little to the right and dropped faster than she expected. What should have hit him in the shoulder, came in at the shoulder blade. The four barbs of the bold head pealed metal and drove into the flesh below The bolt buried itself up the second index finger knuckle in his back. It was far from a killing blow, but it made his ability to swing a sword with his right hand almost impossible without sever pain. He could hold his shield though.
Sarris tried to recook the cross bow and could barely deflect the bow.
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Post by Caedes Oleander on Dec 14, 2022 21:51:43 GMT -5
The swordsman staggers, pressing a palm into his temples while the visions fade from behind his eyes; he grimaces, gaze unsteady as they settle on the bleeding corpse of their colleague. The swordsman stares for a moment; and then, their eyes narrow sharply in realization. “ Oh… oh ho…” Their laugh is hyena-like; a manic sound, high pitched, echoing off the walls of cavernous cliffs. Sarris, as it seems to the swordsman, has traded fatal blows with their ally— but there are her allies left. With a spin on their heel, the swordsman eyes the swath of smoke and shadow with a new spite. “ The lass can’t get anymore messed up than she already is,” they cackle; their previous, unpredictable behaviour seems to simmer into something steadier. Something a little more calculated. “ But I can still mess you n’ your cargo up pretty well.” Caedes might be impressed, even somewhat intimidated, if he were actually still anywhere nearby; the changeling can hear furious footsteps thumping across solid rock. Iron-bottomed boots kicking pebbles in their way. He knows how to pick his fights, though; and had he stayed in the swordsman’s line of sight; he would’ve been worn down eventually. With the shadows as a distraction, the assassin had bounded and leapt over the edge of the cliff-side, dangling from his embedded dagger with practiced precision from one arm, while he re-calculates his plan of action… Sarris? Down. The crossbowman? Down. He can’t see Veliky, but he's in a position where he could just leave. That’s an option. He’s not going to, but it’s an option. Worst case scenario, it’s a two on two— best case scenario, Veliky is not dead yet, and he won’t have to worry about her if he works quick enough. “ Come out, come out…” The purr that eeks distantly over the side of the precipice sends a chill down Caedes’ spine. He leers up towards the dark sky, taking a slow and steady breath as he counts down the seconds; he listens patiently to the footsteps above, the steady click-click-click of the swordsman’s boots harmonizes with a battle going on farther away. When the smoke finally clears, however, the changeling isn’t found. He can hear a bubbled, gurgled snarl of frustration; but before anything more can happen, he hears the snap of a bow. So, apparently, does the swordsman. “ What the hell?” The swordsman’s voice carries over, followed by a frustrated snarl. “ Y'little rat lassie, y'still alive!?” Sarris?
Oh wait, shit. Sarris.
Taking not a second longer for his cue, Caedes rips his dagger from the side of the precipice, takes hold with his opposite hand, and flips back onto solid ground. His boots hit the earth with a soft thud, but it’s not enough to alert the swordsman in this situation. He’s already rushing Sarris, trying to get to her before she can fire off at the shieldsman again— but he’s not going to reach her. It takes a hell of a sprint, but Caedes intercepts him just as he’s pulling back his sword to thrust down at the young woman. He manages to clothesline the swordsman with a crooked arm, slamming his dagger into the spine of his lower back while he pulls him into a chokehold. "Bad timing." Gurgles and gasps emit from the swordsman’s throat while Caedes pulls him away from Sarris, spins, and slams him back into the earth opposite of the fallen crossbowman.
Effectively taken out of the fight, the assassin rips his dagger from the man's back.
After, he turns to the fallen woman and takes a breath before he helps pull the crossbowman off of her.
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Post by Veliky on Dec 16, 2022 22:33:31 GMT -5
The shield-merc lurches and keels from the throbbing pain in his shoulder, eyes on the ground. The crossbow bolt wiggles agonizingly, in the hole in his pauldron.
"Urghh! Oooohohohohahaha! That stings! That stings *real* good!" Despite clearly being in pain, his voice is tinged with a disturbing glee.
He slams his shield into the ground, with enough force to crack the earth. With his auxiliary arms, he holds two shields behind himself, in hopes of thwarting further blindsides. When he looks up, Veliky is still there. Only, now, her arms are crossed, almost condescendingly.
"Tell me something," she demands with a pronounced bite and a crick of her neck, "why did you refuse my offer? If all you care about is getting paid, why would you refuse a better deal than the one you had?"
Even with blood trickling down his back, the mercenary's smile only widens. He chuckles through his teeth.
"Well, here I was thinking to you were a woman o' business! You know the answer ta that, don'tcha?"
Veliky narrows her eyes. She's fairly certain that she does.
"Same reason you refused mine. Wha' kinda businessman would I be if I didn't keep mah promises?" Leaning on his massive shields, he takes a slight but theatrical bow. "Ain't nobody gonna hire a hitman that don' honour 'is hits! Temptin' though a triple-pay might be, unless yer fundin' my retirement, I ain't sellin' out."
With another rumbling chuckle, he scrapes the bottom of his shield against the ground, like a bull ready to charge.
"Now, I'd say we're just about done here. 'Ow about you?"
A real, one-on-one fight. This man could snap her spine with one foot, on accident. He has strength, he has equipment, he even has agility over her. The only advantage she might have is wit. But will it be enough? Can she outplay a man who's bee trained exactly for this sort of brutal combat?
The way she stares - indifferently - says it all. She already has.
"Yeah. I'd say so." She adjusts her suit, like she's getting ready for a meeting. "Just one last thing: businessman or not-"
He flies[1] at her, like a speeding wagon, grinding his shields against the stone and sending sparks. They're spikes - the spikes that could rip her to pieces - draw closer, faster than she can even process. There isn't even time for her to flinch before they the mercenary tramples her...
Only, there is no cracking of bones, or piercing of skin. When the stirred dust clears, Veliky is still standing, completely unscathed. The mercenary is just behind her, facing away, as if he somehow passed right through her[2].
He looks back at her, forehead wrinkled in befuddlement. Through it all, she didn't even blink.
"-you really should've taken the deal."
Veliky - the real Veliky - appears[3] from thin air, directly in front of his face! She swings her fist, and, in a brilliant flash of light[4], strikes him in the face, and snaps his visor off his helm[5]! Both the light and the force with which Veliky strikes, are inexplicable; it's like watching a man fight a giant, and just as much a spectacle.
She lands with both feet, as the mercenary stumbles back.
"The fuck?!"
He clanks his shields together, and she grits her teeth, knowing that she has barely a second to act before he charges again. Deftly, she leaps backward, and her finger begins to glow. Quickly and methodically as a machine, she draws a circle on the ground around her and leaps back again! As the mercenary hurtles[1] toward her, she snaps her fingers[6], and the ground opens just as the wall had when she and Caedes freed Sarris!
He can't stop in time - there isn't much that *can* stop him. His leg drops into the newly-created hole; a sickening yet devilishly satisfying snap can be heard.
"AAAGH! LUNALA'S BOUNCIN'...!"
He holds his shields close, recreating the impenetrable wall of steel! But Veliky doesn't relent; she runs toward him, plants a foot on one of the shields, and runs directly up it[7]! Her feet clank against the steel surface, until she crests its chief, to see his pained and mortified eyes - which she meets with an iron-focused stare before planting both feet into his face!
Instantly, an explosion of light[4], shines through the cracks in the wall, and out of the top of the tower. And then... stillness - silence and stillness. The shields are still standing, but no sound comes from within. Not until...
"...Hey." A familiar voice resounds from within the wall. "Hey! Caedes, Sarris! These shields are heavy as shit, get me out of here!" The authority in her voice says all that must be said: mission accomplished.
1. Adrenaline Rush (Double Dipper) 2. Clone Self 3. Invisibility 4. Angelic Light 5. Hood Strike Prevention (Double Dipper) 6. Minor Trickery 7. Spider Silk Boots
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Post by Sarris on Dec 17, 2022 7:07:54 GMT -5
After being freed Sarris breaths heavily from the pain in her leg. Tears come down her face leaving traces of clean skin from the dust and dirt of the trip. With Caedes’ help she stands and limps over to help move the shield from on top Veliky. “You both fought well!” She said and she help roll the shield on their side. The tone of her voice indicated that she was glad that the battle was over. Sitting down and then lying back Sarris said, “Someone is going to need to pull the bolt out of my hip.” “It is probable going to make me pass out,” Sarris knew that her healing magic could only slow down her bleeding. Crossbows we’re almost always fatal. They hit hard and went deep. The wounds tended to bleed a lot when you decided to attack people trying to kill you. The bolt had come in at he hip and deflected into the muscle.
Sarris was fairly sure she was going to die from the pain. But she had been at range and while the wound was serious she would heal. A series of irrational thoughts ran through her mind: “I am going to die,” “Grandfather and Sarne are going to kill me,” “I am never going to walk again,” And “No man is going to want to marry a girl with scars.” This being the second scar on her body.
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Post by Caedes Oleander on Dec 18, 2022 14:49:33 GMT -5
It’s not hard to find Veliky in the chaos. He quickly drags the corpse off of Sarris, dropping it at the feet of the Swordsman— who is rapidly fading between nervous twitches and chokes. The metallic clangs of the mercenary’s shields ring through the air; the clashing between Veliky and a man four times her size taking place just mere yards away from the downed young woman. As Caedes’ hands leave the shoulders of the corpse, he rises quickly; a sharp howl can be heard— masculine, furious, and deep. He spins on his heel in time to see the impenetrable wall of shields, and Veliky sprinting up the incline into the only entry point above. The changeling winces back as light explodes from between the cracks and pours from the tower in a bright flash.
Chest heaving from the exertion of all that’s occurred, Caedes only looks up once the light has faded. It’s quiet in the aftermath. He lets the silence be still; in it, he hears the panicked murmurs of their entourage, the distant rumble of thunder, and the last breath of the swordsman that comes in a slow, wheezing gasp. “ ...Hey.” “ Seven hells,” the words come in a sigh; his shoulders drop as the atmosphere around them lightens in the aftermath of combat. He reaches an arm out for Sarris, assisting the young woman in standing to her feet. In moments, he and Sarris rejoin around the tower of shields; and as Caedes pulls one of the shields down and lets it clatter into the dust behind them, he reaches out a hand to help pull Veliky out. “ Nice holding out.” he remarks, his voice bemused; he’s looking a little worse for wear, the fabric of his shirt torn and burned at the shoulder from whatever unholy concoction the Swordsman had put on the ends of his blade. Sarris has been hit with a crossbow, but thankfully, he doesn’t think it’s a fatal hit. Probably. He’s not a doctor. Once Veliky has been pulled from the tower, he looks to Sarris with a slow sigh. “ Hang in there a bit longer; leave it in there for now, or it’ll just bleed more. Veliky, do you or your…” he trails off, taking a look at the last remnants of her Blixtbots™. ” ... Clients, have any medical training?”
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Post by Veliky on Dec 19, 2022 2:54:59 GMT -5
The shield falls to reveal an unharmed, if begruzzled Veliky. With Caedes' help, she steps out from the shield-tower; but she accepts no help in dusting herself off and smudging dirt off her cheek. Behind her is the corpse of the mercenary, still clutching his shields. Smoke billows from his helmet, which fortunately obscures his face.
Veliky lets in a deep, congested sniff of the Cradle's dry, electric air - a reminder that the arduous journey isn't yet over. Indeed, once the company reaches the other side of the pass, they have a frigid tundra to look forward to. Whenever they do rest in actual beds again, it may be the most comfortable rests they've ever had.
As she exhales, the mention of bleeding draws her eye to the bolt in Sarris' leg. It looks painful, but she's seen worse; her indifferent eyes carry a tangible chill.
"Caedes's right, leave it in." She turns to face the still-shaken travellers. "Hey! Have any medical supplies over there?"
It takes a moment for the travellers to nominate someone to respond. Many of them are still in shock; many others are coughing from the dust of the rockslide. Eventually, one of them stands.
"U-Um, yes! Yes, we have a doctor!" He quickly looks among his fellows. There's a moment that he seems to panic, perhaps worrying that they were lost in the landslide, but his expression lights when he finally finds them. "Oh! Daowen, please, help the injured lady."
As the raggedly-clad doctor rushes over, Veliky looks to Sarris again. Her stare, as usual, is somehow both mild and severe; yet it seems more prying than usual.
"Are you alright?" Her voice lacks concern, like she's asking out of obligation. Somehow, it gives the feeling that she isn't asking about Sarris' wound. "If not, I have some magic that can-"
Suddenly, the mercenary jerks from his dormancy and reaches for Veliky! He's alive! The startled quarterling's only barely able to avoid his massive gauntlet, reeling back with an expression that borders on disgust.
"Gh- Ghraa! Kh... guh..."
He flails an arm in desperation, but simply cannot grasp her; his reach is limited by his yet-trapped leg. It isn't long before his arm falls in exhausted lethargy. If he wasn't done before, he is now.
Veliky watches in contempt as he coughs, sputters and lets in a palmful of heaving breaths. One can almost see precious life draining from his body - precious to him, if nobody else. The seconds are ticking down to his death, and then whatever lies beyond...
The little strength that remains in him is barely enough to muster words. "T-... Tell... li'l Mazoga... daddy won't be... comin' home, no more..."
Life-giving breath: in...
Out...
In...
...
Out...
...
...
...
He's gone still. But Veliky's contempt does not diminish in his death, nor with his dying wish.
"She'll be better off." Veliky retorts to the dead man. She doesn't waste another second on him; she just turns back to Sarris. "Once your wound's been treated, we can make finally get out of this lightning-blasted hellscape."
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Post by Sarris on Dec 22, 2022 23:14:12 GMT -5
Sarris gasped at the shield man feigning death to make one more attack. But she could not really throw stones at him since she had done the same thing.
Sarris laid back after he died do she could be examined. Tears were in her eyes as she tried hard to keep it together. She hated fighting and hated killing even more. Some brave adventurer you are, she thought to herself. Bravery was not the ability to suppress one’s emotions. It was doing the right thing even when you were scared and when it hurt. Right now Sarris hurt. It felt like she had been shot by a blot with head about the size of her first. That was what happens when you run, jump, and use your legs to tangle someone up.
Daowen approached and gave Sarris a look. Sarris returned it, with a well how bad is it look. In her mind most doctors were leechers, while they helped some time they killed as many as they saved. Being in this area Daowen healed his share of wounds and had developed some surgical skills.
From his pocket he pulled a flask and gave Sarris a belt of it then had her bite a leather belt. The bolt was pulled causing Sarris to need her arms to be held. The head was small and flat but the fletching made the head twist as it entered her muscle. The bone had stopped the twirl. Still it ripped muscle and flesh. Blood seeped from the wound as Sarris left teeth marks in the leather. Next came stitches. Quick fine stitches pulled the wound together. “This is not bad,” Daowen said as he worked. “A week or two and you will be running,” he said as he pulled the last stitch.
Looking at his work, he started, “I once stitched half of an arm back together. The hand still worked.” Sarris rolled and vomited. She understood the difference between major surgery and minor surgery was minor surgery happened to someone else.
After regrouping she tried to cast a minor healing spell on herself. It would keep it from ripping open and bleeding out. She would need Corra or Master Ray to deal with the scar.
“I need some armor,” she said as if this was something shocking.
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Post by Caedes Oleander on Dec 24, 2022 17:21:13 GMT -5
He steps back, allowing the quarterling her space as she steps from the smoking, make-shift coffin, containing the corpse of the mercenary. His gaze lingers past her as she brushes dust and dirt off her person. Smoke billows from beneath the shield mercenary’s helmet, but… what was that Veliky had done? Was it light magic? Interesting. He turns his eyes back to Veliky as she calls out to the travelers. He steps forwards, lingering quietly behind the quarterling— a shadow to the light she had cast earlier— as Daowen is nominated from the group of what he now understands are refugees. He breathes a slow breath, turning his body away from the medic somewhat; though the wound on his shoulder stings, he does not need him to look at it. Before Daowen can truly help Sarris, however, the body jerks— Caedes’ gaze snaps towards motion— and he kicks out with a leg, smashing the tip of his boot into the mercenary’s wrist as the quarterling narrowly misses his reaching fingers. It does next to nothing to his determination to grab at Veliky; the changeling steps back, unsheathing his dagger as he watches the man flail desperately for her. He doesn’t feel much sympathy for him; but the moment he mentions a name; Caedes takes a weak breath and closes his eyes. Mazoga? His daughter, if he had to guess; it’s too late to feel guilt, but there’s a sympathy that lingers deep beneath for the presumed child. He doesn’t speak as Veliky hounds the dead man over the status of his daughter; but he keeps the name in mind; and while Sarris is receiving her treatment from Daowen, the name is written quietly in a waterlogged notebook with a crimson bleed at one of its edges. He may have no sympathy for the mercenaries they’ve killed today, unlike Sarris who seems rather affected, but he does feel something for this lil’ Mazoga. He hopes she still has her mother, at the least. He hopes they didn't just make her an orphan.
Caedes breathes an exhale, tapping the end of his pen against the book thoughtfully, as he looks towards Sarris and Daowen. “ Veliky,” he regards the quarterling with a sigh as he stands to his feet. He closes the small book in his hands. “ How far would you say we are to our destination?” He moves forwards, joining her a pace or so away from where she’s standing. “ I can’t say whether or not there was a fourth mercenary accompanying these three in case they failed, but if there was, we won’t have much time to dally before some kind of reinforcements are sent. We’re going to want to cover these last miles as quickly as we can once Sarris is back on her feet.” He looks towards Sarris as she stands; the palms of her hands glowing when she casts a spell on herself. “ Armour might be a good investment,” he agrees, bemused. “ But you’re not dead, so it’s something to keep in mind for next time; will you still be able to walk alright?”
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Post by Veliky on Dec 25, 2022 20:55:33 GMT -5
Seeing her rogue's violent discharge, there's a look in Veliky's eyes that resembles a condescension. A mercenary that can't hold their stomach's contents after such a minor wound? She's seen far worse taken far better.
...At least, that's what part of her says. The rest of her knows that the failure of a mercenary is the fault of their fixer; Sarris obviously isn't meant for these sorts of violent conflicts. A talented thief, a potent spellcaster and a suave technician, but a fighter? Veliky should've handled this better: a fact that she will not be admitting today, or any time soon.
The miniature condotierre brushes her sleeves, turning her eyes to the western horizon and their objective. "I wouldn't bet on a fourth. For mercs this decked, there are better ways to call for reinforcements."
She treads to the body of the crossbowman. Another thing she won't admit: she's impressed; the attack was clearly sloppy, but with even greater clarity is the ferocity in every still-oozing wound. She wouldn't have expected such a thing from Sarris. She would've preferred something more tactically sound... but it worked, and it worked pretty damn well.
But that isn't all she's looking at. Her eyes narrow as the closely examines the body, his armour, his weapons, his tattoos, his hidden emblems...
"But reinforcements will be a concern, nonetheless. I don't recognize their company, but they're professionals and part of a professional groups. Above all, that means that someone paid for the service, not the men. The hits are still active." She isn't secretive in her tone nor volume; the travelers that hear her are visibly distressed by the news. "Reinforcements probably won't be for another week or two. Could even be a couple months before they come for you, but I'd estimate low since they already know where you're going."
One of the travelers - the rotund merchant that'd caused such commotion earlier - steps forward. His face is a well-shaken cocktail of anger and dread - one that doesn't clash, but blends into an emotion of its own.
"W-Wuh- Well what're we s'posed to do, then?! Just find a better place to die?!"
Veliky shares none of his anxiety, but she does give the question a long pause of consideration before turning to him with a serious and uncompromising glare.
"You aren't going to like this answer. I'm telling you now, so don't bother to complain. Skip Bleakfort; they'll expect you to stop there. Cut right through the Coldwood, to the Pale City. Get on the first ship to Sol. From there... blend in. Scatter. Start using aliases, cut your hair, all the usual. New jobs, too. I hear there's a new cafe, looking for hires."
The merchant is baffled, and it shows. Starting a whole new life? Leaving his loved ones behind? It's an absurd sacrifice... but, as he listens, his face gradually sinks into resignation. Her plan, however much is sacrifices, gives a chance at life, which is more than the alternatives offer.
"Now, officially," Her continuation comes as something of a surprise. "our jobs are done. You hired me to bring you to Frost Gale, and here we are. Now, we *can* take you further... but it'll cost you."
Resignation turns to resentful acquiescence. "Fine, just... just get us through this."
The deal is sealed. With a curt nod, she minces past him, wearily running a hand through her hair as she looks upon her broken bots and the crumbled pass behind them. Backtracking isn't an option (at least, not a feasible one). Not that the Lightning Fields are particularly welcoming anyways.
And, finally, her eyes fall on her living cohorts, as stranded as she is. "Well, I don't think any of us are going back to Skypeak today. How would the two of you feel about a trip to the Pale City? I hear it's a kahnpite this time of year, but it'll be like a vacation after all this."
With her signature, blank expression (a stare so intrinsic to her that she could probably trademark it), she looks between Caedes and Sarris.
"We have a deal?"
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Post by Sarris on Dec 26, 2022 20:18:40 GMT -5
Sarris appreciated the concern that was been shown for her. She knew that was not going to kill her, but it hurt and it was going to leave a scar. This was the worst part of it. She had killed that was another scar and the two were paired. One seen and the other hidden. She knew that Master Ray would make it look like the scar was not there. That helped her teenage vanity a bit.
She wiped her hands on her skirts to get dirt off them.
Looking at Caedes she replied, “I will be able to walk!” Her tone indicated that she was okay and that she was sorry for the scene. In her head she could hear Veliky saying “Wimp” and “Get over it.” She wanted to make the proud and pull her weight. So she would walk, even though she wanted to fly and even if she had to limp the whole way. Bruising had already started, though it was mostly deep, and she was glad she could not see it.
“We should burn this too and the cloth too,” she said throwing the bold down with the body of the crossbow man. She did not want any Fae to get a link to her and blood magic was strong.
When Veliky talked about to them about future plans , Sarris nodded in agreement. It was sound logic. she knew the merchant’s type though. He could move away, but he would give himself away and the assassins would be after all of them again.
“I really want to know…” Sarris started to say. She wanted to know the reason why. The look that Veliky gave her made it clear to let it go. She would tell Sarris that it really did not matter and would draw her into something she did not want to be a part of.
When Veliky invited her to continue on with them, Sarris’ eyes lit up. “A hot bath, some new fabric, and new deserts to try…” Sarris was dreamily thinking what she would see when they got to the Pale City. “Do you know any cloth merchants there?” Sarris asked taking Veliky’s arm and getting an annoyed look for it. Taking ahold of the bolt she looked at and her blood. It had only gone into her flesh to a depth up to her thumb knuckle from the tip.
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Post by Caedes Oleander on Dec 27, 2022 23:30:04 GMT -5
Caedes’ lowered gaze follows Veliky as she strides towards the fallen body of the mercenary; she wouldn’t bet on a fourth mercenary on men this decked, but he’s not so sure about that. Not being all too far from this sort of business himself, he knows a few of the ins and outs of it; a skulker would not be out of the question, but Veliky is right that there are better ways to go about it. He brushes it from his mind for now, offering Sarris a smile when she assures him she’ll be able to walk. “ That’s good.” he agrees, nodding. “ You held your own well, Sarris.” Movement from the corner of his eyes brings his attention to Veliky once more; she strolls past in order to examine the bowman’s body. Caedes, himself, hasn’t had the time to look close at him— but he narrows his eyes when Veliky starts to speak. He doesn’t recognize this company either, actually. His pale eyes travel across symbols and emblems, twisting tattoos and insignias, but they don’t raise any alarm. Then again… he’s been “dead” in Darkveil long enough for new Mercenary groups to rise up in its underbelly, hasn’t he? Caedes shifts his weight between legs, crossing his arms while Veliky reiterates that the group of refugees are likely still being targeted— and might fall victim to their reinforcements sooner rather than later. He nods, agreeing solemnly with the quarterling’s analysis. Unfortunately. The merchant who steps up— the rotund fellow from earlier— seems truly distressed. Caedes can’t say he blames him, but he’s also been living with an unsung bounty on his head for several months, himself. Once Veliky makes her suggestions, Caedes cuts in with his own, “ If you want longer, then bounce after a few months; don’t plan to stay in one place, or you’ll be easier to track. Once you get comfortable, that’s when they’ll show up at your door. If you think you’ve slipped up, leave. Talk differently, act differently. There are a thousand ways to lose yourself in a crowd; you should make yourselves familiar with them.” Whatever that may say of the presumed mercenary may be up in the air, but he doesn’t rest on it, allowing Veliky to take the reins of the conversation once more— telling their entourage that they’ve done their job. Caedes breathes a chuckle; she is a business woman, isn’t she? Sarris seems all too enthused to make a trip into the Pale City; Caedes gazes back into Veliky’s blank expression, considering it. He has no responsibility for these people, but he still wants to remain on Veliky’s good side: there is every potential she could be a great ally, if things were to come to ill with the Crimson Hand… but, she would be hard to convince. After a moment, Caedes offers her a smile; a somewhat bemused chuckle escapes his lips as Sarris enthusiastically takes Veliky’s arm.
“Sure, boss. You’ve got a deal.”
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