Coldforged · Legacy archive
Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
-
Chapter 1: Ûr-Keldon [ON HOLD]
#81Panting desperately,as her body pushed itself to the utmost limit to keep up with the long stride of Hans,Solstra battled just as furiously to keep her terror from consuming her. She was rushing into what would no doubt be the heat of combat. And she had nary a single experience of slaying under her belt. This was suicide. If she had any sense,she would turn around immediately and try her best to leave this cursed mouldering dwelling of assassins and long forgotten ghosts.
And yet she could not. Onatha's twisted gaze still lingered in her mind,demanding the vengeance due to it. And Marcus El-Keddeth still lived. There would be no turning back,not for her.
''Hans! Any good tips on how to slay a dangerous foe with a dagger?'' -
Chapter 1: Ûr-Keldon [ON HOLD]
#82Whatever had happened, Sharee's moment of scary visions had ended, though the package remained, its mouldy parchment wrappings nearly disintegrating at her touch. The strange whispering voice was gone too and try as she might she could no longer attain contact with the apparitions of the past. She still felt as if she knew the place; knew that behind the alchemist's counter she would find potions and scrolls of power. Knew that on the fourth floor was a summoning room harnessing the power of a teleportation rift. It was as if she had once belonged here, yet she did not feel safe nor at home. Then suddenly she noticed screams from the outside, commands and grunts, familiar sounds from her time with the mercs.
********
Hans drew his sword while he strode through the street, quickly closing in on the battle site. Behind him he could hear Solstra pant, trying to keep up with him. He had actually expected the slave to flee and when she posed her question he was quite impressed. "Try to stay back whatever happens. If you get any opening from the side or rear, use it, but do not under any circumstances approach an opponent with a significantly longer weapon from the front. A dagger versus sword fight is always ugly!" -
Chapter 1: Ûr-Keldon [ON HOLD]
#83Domunsoka unleashed an eery cry, like the yowl of mountain lion, and flailed itself in a serpentine yet graceless way to snap at the muffled assailant. Its tongue, like a twisting river of black blood, flicked forward and slapped at the assassin's feet; the man in black backflipped impressively onto the banister of the stair, switching his knife into his other hand.
"Blood!" screeched the ghost doll. The assassin seemed unphased. The flesh-wood being leapt animalistically into the air, claws outspread... -
Chapter 1: Ûr-Keldon [ON HOLD]
#84As Domunsuka's eerie shriek of wrath rent the still air,Solstra shuddered. The ghost doll's ghastly attempts at speech never failed to make her blood curdle.
''It sounds like Domunska has already gotten to the assassin before us''. -
Chapter 1: Ûr-Keldon [ON HOLD]
#85"Posh spirits, to snub me so..."
I grabbed the parchments, taking a brief glimpse at them, whether anything might prove useful - and too dangerous to be left lying around.
The potions... were Flare's area of expertise. And, I did not like pouring some millenia-old liquid down my throat.
Having plundered what I could in haste - several scrolls and some jewelry for vanity's sake, I checked the contents of the box, filled with curiosity, while storming out. Those kids would not make it without me. -
Chapter 1: Ûr-Keldon
#86A loud bump as something hit the floor hard upstairs and the creaking of the staircase to the first floor were the last sounds Sharee heard before she exited the building, her hands cramming as many pearl necklaces, ruby ear rings, gem studded rings and amazing bracelets as she could possibly carry. As she pressed her shoulders against the door, pushing it open, she studied the box, which was now partially buried in jewellery. It had been carefully wrapped in mouldy parchment, probably to protect it from impact. Alas the mysterious box was locked and the lid would not budge. As she raised her head, she witnessed Hans and Solstra with their steel at ready; facing down an alley. Hunthar could also be seen in an opposite doorway, now sporting an enormous hammer hanging from his belt. The swordsman’s hands were stained with blood and Roack was no where to be seen.
*********
Domunsoka charged up the stairs and then leapt towards the assassin who had attacked him. The want to be killer seemed stunned by the construct’s ferocious counter-attack. A guttural rolling sound escaped from its lips mere moments before Domunsoka landed. It was a sound soon answered by unseen creatures on the other roofs. Then the hunters came into view; at least seven cloaked men, all hunched forward, drawing their bows and snarling in defiance, daring the mercs to make the first move. -
Chapter 1: Ûr-Keldon
#87Domunsoka stabs it's corpse-claw outward with animalistic suddenness, seizing the creature within the cloak by a pale, fleshy neck. With typhoon speed, it whips it's arm around, cracking the assassin jerkily through the air; the sound of a shattering spine briefly echoes.
Dropping the assassin into the crunchy layer of old snow, the ghost doll stares down at the broken body for an instant. The slot of sky visible above the alley is occluded with dark clouds; flakes of wet snow begin to drift downward.
With a hiss, Domunsoka turns towards the sound of his companions. -
Chapter 1: Ûr-Keldon
#88Roack fell.
A grim mockery of lightning danced a long his skin, filling his nostrils his the reek of blood and soulrot. The grass deadened in his wake, and the trees slowly shuffled at first sight.
He was alone again.
The water hypnotized him with it's angry, dancing threats. Roack stepped forward, fatally attracted to the water's game. His hand reached into to the water, set ablaze with the blood of a dying sun. Dragged down into the cold, uncaring nothingness of the earth's dead womb.
His eyes were forced open.
People tired with the world slept, their faces empty, not needing to express themselves to anyone. These were the faces he knew, though he had only heard the whispers in their sleep. These were the truth speakers, his teachers, his only companions, though they had always been far away. Roack wandered through the halls of the dreamer, waiting for what he knew was coming. The murmuring of the ones who left this world could not soothe him. Roack stepped to the altar fully aware of what he was doing. She stood up, awake, angry, and murderous beyond belief. She would kill him, he knew it, perhaps he wanted to die? If it would please her there would be nothing wrong with it...
Her hands grasped his neck, though he did not fight. his mind ripped itself in two, warring instinct against family.
Instinct won.
Roack screamed, shook her off, leaving the hell that he had been born to, casting aside his entire being up to this point. He woke up to the scent of vomit. Raising himself weakly, he stumbled over to the forge, undoing the chain on his neck, and throwing his pendant into the place fires had onced raged.
His lips echoed the victory his mind should have had long ago.
"Good bye mother." -
Chapter 1: Ûr-Keldon
#89Curiosity killed the cat... avarice killed the witch?
I hoped this would not be true.
Trying not to be suspicious, I raised my hands above my head, playing the surprised thief, feeling several of the oh-so sharp arrows pointing my way, the malice and bloodlust of the men behind them wafting over to me along the projectiles' future course. The glitter of the gold might catch their attention for the blink of an eye I needed. Moving my right foot to form a minor Anor sigil, I evaporated a little of my body moisture, exhaling a cloud of steam through my belly-mouth. Though it pained me greatly, I left a shard of life-force bhind, to give the clod a semblance of me, perhaps for a few seconds, as again I darted into the safe shadows of the jeweller's store.
Cat and mouse play you want? Cat and mouse play we will.
The harlequin mask on my palm was suffused with blood again, crimson rivulets traced along my skin - though the pain was almost exquisite. I felt it surge, throb, pulsate, with a longing, almost intent. So be it. I let it flow, let it fly, let it run, and released the leash.
With the same blood, I touched my chakras, the last drop left floating above my head, and through its leverage, I adjusted the others...
Cat and mouse indeed.
I reached deep - into a well we all have, yet most are unaware, blissfully so, for it is primordial, feral and might shatter out self-delusions of civilization and manner, of reason.
Deep within the heart rests the passion, the beast - it is this well that fuels our primal instincts, it is this well that wolves and vampires drink from during the hunt, it is this well that sustains a killer's rampage, that allows a mother to break a warrior's neck when defending her children.
What else were these mercenaries to me? Mine. Kill me if you dare, but do not a much as raise your voice against them.
And my balance shifted.
Let yourself go, Sharee...
Magic flows with emotion, and mirrors the mental state of the wizard.
I let it so so, flow into my limbs and chest, spiral around my fingers and flow into my teeth through their roots, infuse me, and bring further pain, and change.
With the sound of cracking bones and bubbling flesh, my fingers sprouted talons wicked, and fangs burst from my gums. A shroud of black fur cloaked my features, the hair becoming a true mane, while a beast's fury flowed through my veins, and rippled though my muscles.
The world was filed with perceptions strange yet natural, mostly the scent of ... prey.
Up the stairs I charged, towards the hatch that would lead me to the roofs.
Cat and mouse. Yes, I like the sound of this.
Moisture flowed from the wet walls, a damp cloud to conceal my advance. I felt the harlequin sing to it its alluring siren song, the mist becoming thick and opaque.
Then, I was outside. The prey so close.
Fangs bared, claws ready tu bury in its flesh, I leapt. -
Chapter 1: Ûr-Keldon
#90Solstra gasped in terrorized astonishment as a monstrous black beast hurtled towards the assassins that held their deadly bows at the ready.
Her suddenly sweaty fingers striving to maintain their grip on the slippery pommel of her dagger,she hissed a query through teeth clenched to prevent her from screaming.
''What on earth is that brute?!'' -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#91OOC: To ease your reading experience: The tattoos are powerful and give you powers and connections your characters cannot fathom. Most of the in text memories / recollections are connected to you through the tattoos.
I am a bit rusty here. PM me with stuff that you wonder about. I will reply everyone.
Now let us get the show on the road!
IC:
Domunsoka watched the dead spirit writhe within the broken body of the fallen assassin. It seemed as if the spirit struggled to break free of its bonds and do in death what it could not in life. What was worse was that the construct could see the spirit. It could even sense the dark taint that had supernaturally imposed it self on the soul of the individual, no doubt possessing it or in other way controlling the unfortunate ex-mercenary.
Steps. Lonely steps down a dark alley. The jingle of keys and the whistle of the mountain wind. F'kharn walked resolutely towards the Gates. They were his responsibility at night and he had been granted command of the Fu-Beasts and the Globii.
Ever since the reawakening of the enemy, there had been a sense of dread hanging over the mountaintop city and the King had not returned. People saw that as an ominous sign and with bad times came bad people. Murderers had been on the loose in the streets and F'Kharn had made it his sole responsibility to keep the streets safe at night. Turning his head slightly, F'Kharn noted the two Globii drifting behind, their ominous whispering promising him eternal damnation and cursing his name. The Globii were the bound souls of condemned murderers and appeared like small, winged humanoids with overly large heads and eyes. Their skin was semi-translucent and within the internal organs and pulsating blue veins could be seen. Smiling to himself, F'Kharn continued down the alley. The ritual might be around the corner, but tonight he would hunt and he would kill.
Having slain his enemy, Domunsoka turned his attention to the ruckus on the street. There seemed to be more of these strange man-things arriving. A sound from behind startled him, and it seemed like his foe was not as dead as he should have been. Then it all happened. Around him dark shapes landed, their boots whirling up the snow. Three, four... Five.
Soon Domunsoka was fighting for his life.
*******************************
"In desperate moments, a mage can tap into hidden reserves; sources of power hitherto untouched." The words were those of Abaelard Firbenmoor, Sharee's one time mentor and they were ringing over and over in her mind. She felt the rush of the wind and the ancient energies around her as she cast her desperate spell. She did not master this discipline; her knowledge was cursory at best. Tears of pain ran down her cheeks and she screamed. Yet, somehow, it succeeded and an overwhelming animal rage welled up inside and ate the pain. Then she was upon her prey and the carnage began.
Claws. Rend. Murder. Vague recognition. The prey looks familiar, but yet not. There is a strange scent to it. It smells of blood. Of sweat. Of hunger. This is no normal prey.
This was a battle between two predators, and the beast slammed into the assassin, unbalancing it and gaining the advantage.
*******************************
Solstara stood watching the huge beast slam into one of the cloaked hunters on the rooftops. It gave her a strange feeling of deja-vu. She had seen this before, or... been here before… Shaking her head she tried to make sense of the situation, tried to respond to what was happening. She focused on Hans but he stood shaking his head groggily, as if to force himself from some horrible waking dream. The former pleasure slave reached her right hand towards the sergeant, to offer him support, but it was as if everything warped and twisted in front of her eyes, and the battle grew distant and she sensed not that the assassins released their bows, their arrows trained at Hans and her.
OOC: Gregal = Hans, Tyverne = Solstara
IC:
"Speak to me Gregal, when do the enemy arrive? Will we manage to complete the ceremony in time?"
The words were hers, but she did not speak them. Hans turned, but his face was wrinkled and old. It was not Hans at all.
Gregal, the former Master Thief of Keldon, now the head of his Majesty's secret police, stood silent for a moment before replying.
"The enemy close in on us, but Kandarein has promised me he can do this… but…I am surprised Master Tyverne, I thought the Sciomancers had full insight into this matter!"
"No!" Tyverne shaked his head. "Our divinations are blocked and the dead dare not speak. We are helpless before the coming of the enemy, my friend"
Gregal nodded grimly. "Then we must put our faith in the ritual. It is our last hope now."
Solstara shaked the alien memories and looked into the face of Hans. There was recognition there. He had felt something too. Then the couple of mercenaries was hit by a hail of arrows.
***********************
Hunthar had fastened his hammer to his belt and stepped out in the alley. There was something familiar about all of this. It was as if he in some way belonged here...
Hunthar grunted and shaked his head. The no nonsense smith had no desire to get lost in thought right now and he quickly surveyed the streets. On the rooftops a huge hairy beast, probably an upright wolf or a cat thing, he could not tell, was tearing into an assassin who struggled to keep his footing on the ledge of the roof. In front of him, in the middle of the street, Hans and Solstara was hit by a hail of arrows, and he quickly sent a prayer to his gods that they would survive. Then he cast a sideways glance further into the alley in which Domunsoka had been stalking. To his surprise Hunthar witnessed enemies fall from the roof, and land in a ring around the ferocious construct. Domunsoka snarled defiantly and seconds later a strange reverb emanated from the city gates.
Hunthar let his thumb slide across the pommel of his sword. He was ready.
***********************
Within the smithy, Roack hurt like nothing he had ever experienced before. A sharp and intense pain cut through his leg with irregular intervals and had awakened him from his strange dream. Pearls of sweat trickled down his forehead. He nearly fainted a couple of times and the sickening smell of vomit made him nauseous. Everything was spinning and he thought he saw someone.
Mother? No… You are not mother... Who are you?
Then everything went black and Roack laid there, a smile on his lips.
***********************
Dietrich was cold. In his arms the frail woman shivered, but he pushed on, his weary legs stumbling through the streets. She had so little clothes, it was a miracle she still lived. He had found her in a cave in the mountains not far from here, a cave he really did not know how he came by. The last thing he remembered was a great beast and then he found himself shuffling through the snow, guided by inner voices. “Mother was waiting” they said and he could not help himself. When mother asked, he never said no. But could this woman really be mother? The real mother?! She was pretty enough, but she seemed so young... and yet so old.
There is something about those eyes. Mother’s eyes. They are so cold. So old.
Dietrich stumbled on; the place mother had told him about was not far away.
-
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#92Domunsoka drops to the ground, bunching sinewy and animalistic into a demonic crouch, and launches forward like a foul toad at one of the black figures. A wooden hand tears at black fabric, and a spray of blood bursts against the alley wall, staining a worn relief with crimson.
The ghost doll rolls as it collides bodily with the ground, followed soon after by swirling cloak-shadows, flitting with inhuman agility. The beast skitters through the hard layer of pocked snow in the street and crashes across the frozen surface of a dirty puddle.
With a tiger-ish leap, the half-wooden thing vaults onto an ornate balcony overhanging the street, smashing the delicate handrail. Cornered by a dozen black-caped figures, it unleashes an ululating dragon screech. -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#93As I leapt and buried my claws in the prey, I felt a strange release - this felt so natural, and a long-dormant part of my consciousness awoke, humming a song wordless and ancient, Kill. Mate. Feed. Repeat.
The jugulars, the face, the belly and the loins of the prey glowed red, and my arms just followed the glow, relentless, me and the assassin a twister of black cloak and midnight fur.
Leaning back, a reasonable and cynically calm part of myself kept recounting: "Liver. Spleen. Pancreas. There goes the kidney.
Sorcery coiled around by claws and teeth in mad patterns, condensing from the air around us as I swung my arms to strike again, rending flesh and soul.
With a 'twang' another enemy loosed an arrow from his bow, its flight ending in my side. Casting the shredded assassin aside, I leapt at him, fangs bared. From its sheath he drew a ... shining claw ...and slashed a painful wound across my ... muzzle ... I was upon him. He grasped my throat, as to keep my gnashing maw away from his face, while my belly maw found his other hand, and bit into it ravenously, snapping the forearm bones with an audible crack.
I felt alive. -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#94Solostra shrieked in as an arrow thudded into her shoulder. The sheer combination of terror and agony pressed heavily on her mind,threatening to send her into a fatal panic from which she would never emerge alive. She was no fool. She knew that if she were to escape this scrape,she had to begin limping her way towards the nearest cover she could spot. Another wave of arrows were soaring their way towards her and Hans,singing through the air with an angry melody worthy of a swarm of aggrieved wasps..
Then the fear vanised to be replaced by a frenzied rage that screamed for vicious retribution. This was Marcus's doing! The fiend wasn't simply content with having robbed her of her beauty and innocene,he had to follow things through to the twisted end and callously stomp out what little miserable existence he had left her! Damn the sucm to the depths of hell? Try as he might,she would live to send him there!
And then the pain,returned worse than ever,this time joning its keening chorus to that of the fury. She tried to scream,but her throat was hoarse,her voice depleted. Had the arows been posioned? If that were the case, then everything was over for both her and Hans..
But behind the rage and the pain,there was something else stirrring now. It was simple,primal even. And powerful,inexorably encroaching on her human pain and rage,suffocating and smothering them,as her various bones and organs shifted and rearranged themselves in her rapidly mutating body.
Danger. Dangerous two-legs everywhere. Flee. Fight if cornered. But save pack brother first.
Moments later,a a hulking furry shape clamped its massive jaws gently around Hans's right leg and effortlessly dragged him out of the range of the arrows that the shadowy figures perched atop the walls were still discharging relentlessly from their bows. -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#95Roack's mind and body rebelled. Blood and thought screamed their disagreement. His soul wanted sleep. Cool, refreshing, rejuvinating rest. It should know better than the others, after all. Of course, they'd never listen. Such is revolution. It was ironic, almost. Sleep was anathema to that which craved dreams.Oh and to have that sweet nectar now! To embrace what was true and real! To have nothing less then the absolute, to be free!
Why did mother cry so?
Was she lonely there, in sleep?
Lonely in waking?
Did you displease her?
Make her angry?
She didn't cry in the dreams. Then maybe... were they the lie? It was best not to think of such things. Besides, mother would not cry now, She would be angry, wrathful. Roack's heart beat in his chest. His soul snarled in disagreement, Such was the democracy of an entity! His eyes threw open, showing their support of his body's cause. Roack's mind grew wary, it was a warzone, and that meant wounds, maybe even death. Something was wrong in the world, fleeing was his first and last choice.
The bandange on his leg pulsed in time with his feet exiting the forge. It was a march through death and into life. He crept along the ground, heading for the protection of the garden foliage. The alchemist was there... he would protect him, right? -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#96OOC: Gyeh! I'm soooo sorry for holding up the party! Grounding sliced my comp time to once a week, to roughly an hour on Wednesdays. I've already spoken with you about it AG, and I'll try to post when I can.
IC:
The one-time smith watched as the shape-changed Solstara dragged Hans out of the range of the aerial assault coming from the walls, a smile alighting on his face for but a moment. Three of the company were out of the fight, away from danger, and two others were quite capable of keeping themselves safe. That left him, the blacksmith turned mercenary.
With a calm that only comes in moments of deadly danger, Hunthar walked out into the street, becoming the new focus of the arrows that had plagued Hans and Solstara. He stopped in the middle of the street, dropping into a recieving stance, hand on hilt ready to draw at a moment's notice. A flight of arrows was loosed at him, most missing their mark by a long shot, but a few flew straight and true. Of course, that was expected, even anticipated.
Hunthar's memory flashed back to a technique he had seen his master use once or twice before, prompting him to ask about it. He had never been very good at it, and it hadn't seemed to be a needed skill to learn, in the face of all the other draw magics that could be done. But why waste magic when the same effect can be done with a little skill? He had learned it with a bit of reluctance, now thankful that he had done so.
The arrows were almost to their mark, when they were sliced in half; six pieces of wood fell to the ground as Hunthar resheathed his scimitar. Time to go on the offensive. Too long had the company been forced to run and hide in this stupid city, trashed and broken. His eyes flashed in the low lighting as he looked over the shadowy figures along the wall. Let the war begin.
An outpouring of energy flowed from Hunthar, his blade a conduit for the spiritual energy that twisted and writhed, begging to be used for something, anything. He obliged, and the wave of air caused by the drawing of the weapon was magnified a hundredfold, igniting into a blast of swirling air and flames, rushing to consume each and every archer upon the walls. Conflagration was their fate, decreed by the bearer of the ancient Hunter. -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#97Dietrich pressed on, his knees were groving numb and he felt like he was descending into the darkness.
Ahead, lights flickered. The woman moaned and tightened her grip around his shoulder.
The memories of finding her in the cave were like a beacon, telling him were to go. Hounding him on towards his goal.
Suddenly he felt a chill running down his spine, was he in danger? Was mother in danger?
He drew his sword, clumsily holding it in one hand. He could not carry the female and fight as well. He paused and pondered, trying to remain alert for any potential dangers. Dietrich then removed his belt and used it to tie up the womans hands.
"Forgive me mother", he whispered softly while he tightened the knot. He moved on, staggering. The woman now on his back, hanging from his neck by her hands. Had he reached the town square? So close. -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#98[OOC: The mountain is the heart of the tattoed powers. Feel free to be somewhat munchkin as your power level is way beyond that of the dark mercenaries. Any questions can be directed to me in the OOC or by pm. Have no fear for balance: your powers will wane quickly as you depart the mountain (to which they are bound). There is an exception to the power level. Your power level is beyond any normal dark mercenary, but not beyond that of the tattoed barbarian]
There was a single thud, a deafening sound that nearly knocked Dietrich to the ground. Warily he dropped to one knee and scanned his surroundings. "Can you let me down now child?" his mother said, and her words were followed by a searing pain in his skin. It was not the voice of an old woman, but rather the innocent voice of a frail teenager. Dietrich knew not why he expected her to be so old, she looked young enough to be his little sister. Still a dull pain lingered in his skin and he had to bite his lips to focus on something else.
A tremendous roar pulled Dietrich from his thoughts. The roar was followed by a another roar and then the earth itself trembled.
"It seems my children are discovering their new powers" she said, her voice somewhat distant and cold. "How foolish of these men to challenge us here, at the very centre of our power" she murmured, yet her voice held no conviction. Somehow it felt more like she was talking to herself rather than with Dietrich, and he could not help but wonder how he got himself into this mess. Looking up he discovered that he had rounded a corner and ahead lay the small town square. Four cloaked men ran on all four straight past Dietrich and his bound "mother", not even sensing their presence. "They cannot see us my child. I have cloaked us and not even their demon-born powers can penetrate the illusions that are shielding us from their hungry eyes". Her speech was confusing, full of the difficult words that Sharee sometimes used.
The town square was surrounded by the same three to four story tall buildings that dominated the rest of the town. Gargoyles and angles were perched on the sides of the walls, looking down upon the square with eyes full of awe and wonder. The square itself was dominated by a silvery circle of sorts and twelve steel poles surrounded that circle. The tiles of the square were arranged in some sort of pattern and at the very centre stood two figures; a huge barbarian covered in tattoos and a frail, but apparently beautiful young woman. The woman seemed not to sense them, but the barbarian looked straight at Dietrich and his lips curled into a snarl. "Have no fear, there is no one here that can spy us" mother said, but her words carried little or no comfort, for the barbarian pointed a finger straight at Dietrich and though his lips did not move, his words filled Dietrich's mind.
"Leave the witch to me, then turn around and leave"
*************************************
The chosen fought for their very lives. Another wave of assassins appeared from behind them, but Flare appeared and a salvo of alchemical mixtures dispatched the would be killers in a thunderous explosion of blood, bones and fire. But the moment of victory was short and soon the squad sapper was once more beset by dark cloaked men, three in number that appeared from within the garden.
One is the sign of awakening.
Two will rise to the call.
An unseen assassin thrust his sword deep into the trunk of Domunsoka's body, but the ghost doll seemed not to notice at all. Instead it looked down at the tattoo on its beastial arm. It must have been a trick of the eye, for ripples seemed to wash through his skin, moving the tattoo.
Two will rise to the call.
There was a silent flash of white, then the earth trembled and one, then another tremendous roar threatened to burst the very skulls of the combatants, and most dropped to their knees, pressing their hands against their temples.
When Sternflucht's chosen had regained their senses they noticed an assassin that pointed to the gates. "The dogs! The dogs! They have come alive". -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#99Domunsoka laps the air with it's disturbing tongue, and frees the offending weapon from it's torso. It encloses the assassin in a crushing bear-hug, resulting in the noise of shattering bones. -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#100Dogs... I hissed.
I was no dogs person.
Giving the 'dogs' a swift glance, I turned to the matters at hand.
The alleys belong to the mutt, but all of the city is the cats' domain.
As the harlequin spoke, to the shadows beckoned, so they came alive, with eyes flaring green, herding the black-clad men as cattle. Whether they were true or not, it little mattered, for I was there. Pouncing an assasing who lifted his blade to strike at Hunthar, I turned to him, growiling: "Swift. Square. Prey." The words seemed to come reluctantly, but I did not care then.
"Onward..."
-
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#101[OOC:Has Hans regained conciousness or am I still dragging him in my jaws?] -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#102[OOC: Hans is stirring on the edge of awareness, though Solstra is still dragging him in her jaws]
The very streets shook as the giant dogs burst from the gates, entering the city at full speed. The cobblestones on the streets shattered where the giant stone paws smashed into the ground. Hard weather; rain and strong winds had washed away most of their features, but it mattered little for they looked truly ferocious as they charged down the narrow streets missing Flare by scant inches before they connected with the trio of assassins that had charged him. The unfortunate individuals were violently flung in separate directions, one even hitting the corner of a wall with his neck first; resulting in the sickening crackle of torn flesh and broken bones. Another assassin was flung from the first beast only to end up as a bloody pulp beneath the paws of the second monstroity.
Then a soft whimpering wail arose from the second floor of the jewellers shop. Looking up Sharee and Hunthar noticed a shadowy figure peering out from an open window. The wail turned into a garbled murmur and then Sharee could sense it: Magic, and of the darkest kind.
The assassins withdrew from the ghost doll, their faces revealing fear and respect. With the coming of the dogs they hesitated, then stumbled, turned and ran. Within a few seconds all the assassins at street level had begun their flight, yet the ones on the roofs remained, raining swarms of death down upon the mercenaries. -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#103Hunthar sidestepped an attack from a dark mercenary, removing his head with one clean strike, which prompted a hail of arrows from the rooftop assassins who now had a clear shot at their adversary. Combat senses at their peak, he turned to face an approaching assassin, but didn't get the chance to, for the assassin's face had already been shredded by the illustrious Sharee. No time was left for pleasantries however, for both sighted a dark figure within an upper window of the Jeweler's Shop, and arrows were still raining like a thunderstorm upon them both. Hunthar motioned for them both to enter the Shop, but before either he or Sharee could move, he was struck in the leg with an arrow, right through his left achilles tendon, and the company's sword-mage left out a cry of pain.
Pain, pain in a place where already pain overflowed from a mystic tattoo, pain that shattered all knowledge and intelligence. A purely primal growl came forth from Hunthar's lips, and the tattoo of a ghostly figure on his left arm began to glow a spectral blue, shining through the sleeve of his coat. The air around him chilled to an sub-artic level as his body and clothing shifted to match colors with that of the Spectre tattoo, Sharee close enough to feel the shift in temperature.
The ghostly shape of Hunthar became airborne, the arrow lodged in his ankle having passed through the instant he became ethereal. Wisely, or perhaps not so, the arrows being fired at the pair were now directed solely at the floating spectre, who was now level with the top of the Jewelry Shop. Maddened beyond all thought save rage, the nearest archer was grabbed by the neck, wisps of insubstantial life-force floating around Hunthar's ghostly hand as it was drained from the luckless soul. Releasing his hold on the lifeless corpse, Hunthar looked around for his next victim, intent on satisfying the rage burning within his gut. -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#104Sorcerer against sorcerer be pitted? So be it.
"Huntharr. Hurrry"... it was necessary to finish as many of the foes pestering us, to get... to the core. Where the real challenge awaited, the true foe, the cause.
Whoever had murdered so many of our brethren was sure to be there, like on a platter.
The facade of the houses was as easy to climb as level ground, I pulled an archer out of the window and stood before the mage or whatever it was - a thing dead yet moving, malicious beyond mortal ken, eyes but orbs of putrid light, wicked as a torturer's grin.
And, it brimmed with power.
Tendrils of dark energy seeped from it, writhing snakes of ethereal death, and it seemed content that I did not flee.
"Two can play this game" I murred, and leapt sideways, and those deadly vines followed me. Then one lashed out, struck my arm, and it went cold. The thing clatterd its spectral teeth with glee, feeding on my strength, and hastily I withdrew.
It murmured with the voices of bygone days, like it had a dozen maddened throats, and those ravenous tendrils of sorcery followed me again.
But as they struck, so I twisted their deathly energy a little, to divert them but an inch, and they buried their unreal jaws in the floor's stone.
Again it struck, but only stone's essence it sucked. And once more.
Furious as it was, little did it notice that by dining on the stone, it solid became. One punch later, which it did not see necessary to dodge, it shatterd on the ground in a thousand pieces.
But it was a mere minion, meant to harry and wear us out.
Even now, I did not know how long the change would last, but I already felt the greatest surge of energy fading...
"Do not foster reason, feed the fury, fan the flames" I muttered to myself when an assassin slashed me and I slashed him - I walked away, he did not. "Foster the fury..." -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#105"Noooooooooooooo" the Keldon Witch whimpered as Dietrich put her down, her hands still bound. The cold mountain winds blew through the streets as he drew his Zweihander Greatsword, steadied his legs and then slowly advanced towards the tattoed tribal. "Dietrich..." the woman said once more, but he did not answer.
Without a single word the dark, long haired mercenary charged, his blade but a silvery shadow through the air.
"NOOOOO!" the Witch screamed in earnest now, desperation evident in her voice. Dietrich had heard that particular tone of voice before, for when after armies fought, victory belonged to one side. Then it was the peasants' turn to suffer. The scream of the witch... It was in the same tone of voice as that of the womenfolk... when the soldiers toyed with them after having murdered their families...
The blade did not connect as Dietrich had believed, rather it passed through the barbarian, making Dietrich lose his balance for a split second. The barbarian vanished and Dietrich dazedly turned to the witch once more, only to find her lifted by the roots of her hair by the same tattoed tribal he had tried to cleave a second ago. Tears were running down her cheeks, and that dismal, almost inhuman voice echoed through his mind again: "You are not the only ones with cheap tricks..."
Dietrich replied with a primal scream of fury, charging the tribal mindlessly. The thug deftly sidestepped, in the process tapping the right temple of Dietrich. His left hand index and middle finger connected softly with his skin.
"...But unlike you and your friends I do not rely on vulgar displays of power. No... It is not my way. I am a creature of finesse and experience, and from what I have seen of you and your friends, that means you are in over your necks..." the world around Dietrich turned dark as the voice spoke, an icy cold spreading from his temple through his body. Soon there was naught.
*****************************
Solstara had dragged Hans by her jaws, pulling him into relative safety when suddenly an arrow connected with her shoulder,
piercing her hide and continuing straight through her flesh reappearing on the other side. She let out a howl of pain, truly
the sound of an hurt animal. Looking around she noticed Roack hiding in a corner, his pale visage full of fear and doubt.
******************************
As the two animated guardian dogs thundered down the street, crushing the fleeing assassins into bloody pools of torn pulp,
Sharee noticed something in front of her. It was another deadling... A small boy by the look of him. There were tears running
down his spectral cheeks and he opened his mouth, trying to say something. "...Not your enemies... ...to help you, Master" his
voice was frail and far away, but his arm was clear enough and it pointed at Sharee, or rather at something behind Sharee.
There was a moment of silence, a moment of dark oppression wherein time seemed to stand still. Sharee tried to turn around, but time seemed suspended. Then someone spoke. "Thank you for your help, were-thing" the voice said, a hint of sarcasm and mockery in it. "For that undead thing proved most challenging. Your arrival could not have been any more opportune!" the voice was decidedly male, but there was a smell to it, a stench of corruption and depravity. Turning around, Sharee noticed a somewhat young man in tattered black robes, standing out in stark contrast to the gaudy red and gold interior of the jewellery shop. "Let me introduce myself. I am Marcus El-Keddath, and you I believe are with the ones I hired to defend me".
*******************************
The streets emptied as the dogs thundered past Domunsoka. The assassins on the rooftops were in full flight now, escaping the spectral apparition that had ascended to their lofty perch. The ghost doll looked down and saw that it stood in a pool of blood which had completely replaced the thin layer of snow beneath his feet. For a moment the blood seemed unearthly beautiful as it was contrasted against the pure white snow.
*******************************
Something was wrong. The rage did not subside, instead it increased multifold and through eyes clouded by a red haze of hatred and rage Hunthar noticed some dark residue from the soul he had snuffed out. The darkness had connected with his fingers and was now slowly spreading out, claiming his fingers inch by inch. -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#106The spectre growled again, shaking his hand to try and get rid of the dark residue that was slowly creeping it's way up his arm. With an angered cry, he attacked the other two archers upon the roof. Mindless rage convinced him that their deaths would stop the obvious attack upon him. -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#107Flare sat, catching his breath against the edge of the fountain within this strangely colorful garden. He gripped his spear-haft with white knuckles. Seeing one of his companions turn into a wolf, and another dragging himself down the street with an arrow clean through his leg was a bit unnerving. He reached into his coat and pulled out another explosive potion, ready to toss it if necessary. He got to his feet, crouching low to the ground. He twisted his shoulders in discomfort, his back tattoo feeling itchy and crawly.
He crept out of the wondrous garden, quickly making his way toward his fellows, keeping his eyes moving from side to side, watching for another ambush.... -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#108When I realized that the spectre I so deftly have smitten was an ally, or rather an enemy of an enemy, I wanted to slap myself - so what. How could I have told one force of darkness from the other... which manifested itself in the presence of his Lordship El-Keddath. His arrogance and coldness swapped over me like a tide of filth.
I stood firm. Let him see weakness, and he will strike, like any predator. With cold reason, the fury ebbed away further, fur receding, my visage more elfin again, still bearing the marks of the beast that lurked benneath the surface though.
"Glad to be of service" I smirked, giving him half a smile, tossing my intrepid locks out of my face. "At last we found you. With our employer gone, I was wondering about who would give me my pay."
I stood before him, my arms set against my hips, chin self-confidently pointing out, eyebrows raised, brow furrowed.
"Would that be you?" -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#109Darkness, a light tickled the border of his mind. Dietrich groaned, he was alive. He felt waves of pain sear trough his body as he tried to move. He fought to stay awake, trying not to welcome the oblivion which so sweetly tried to make him sleep.
He rolled over and opened his eyes, even they hurt and his vision was unfocused. But there, tied to one of the poles around the square was mother. She was full of needles which the barbarian punched into her skin, one by one. Her tears were red with blood.
"Mother" Dietrich whispered softly, his hand fumbling with something. It was his sword.
He arose hastily, stumbled and fell. The barbarian seemed to busy to notice the noice. Even more angered by his own carelesness Dietrich roared a challenge, his feet now firmly planted on the ground. He had only one goal, one objective. Save mother. -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#110The archers fled before Hunthar, their eyes full of fear. They ran across the rooftops, jumping from building to building with supernatural agility. Their torn dark cloaks were battered by the strong wind and the snow on the slippery roofs was unsettled by their nimble feets, but still Hunthar gained on them, his mind clouded by an insane rage.
******************************
Mesmerized by the blood and snow, Domunsoka nearly missed the screams from the other side of town. But as he stood there trying to capture the snow crystals that fell from the sky, the raw desperate emotion within the voice of the Keldon witch caught his attention and long dormant memories awoke.
It was summer and the coastline had been particularily bountiful that month, yielding double the normal harvest of clams. Mom was singing and brushing her hands through my auburn hair as we made our way home from the beach. That always made me relax and I think I loved her even more for it. I clung to her hand wanting to get up and hug her, but she laughed and said if I did that she would lose the clams that we had worked so hard to get. That wouldn't do, I knew that and so we walked on, hand in hand, jumping and singing.
I love you mommy!
I love you too Ersthal! More than you will ever know!
I did not know the men that entered the path in front of us, but mother seemed to know them. She said hello, wondered how things went back home. They talked for a while and then one tried to kiss mommy, but mommy said no and got angry. They laughed and kissed her anyhow, making her drop the clams that we spent the entire day diving for. It made me so angry... I ran at them but they knocked me down, making the world spin for a while. The men carried mommy with them, into the forest, and I ran after, but I could not catch up. So I gathered the clams and crying I pulled the bucket all the way back to the village. When I came back my uncle ran to me and they wiped away the blood on my face.
My uncle led the hunters that night. They wore paint and carried spears and they told me not to worry. And they got mother back, but she was changed. That entire night she screamed and cried, and she would not be comforted.
I love you mommy!
**************************************
The tattoed barbarian pushed the final needle through the skin of the naked witch when suddenly there was a cry of challenge behind him. Turning around he noticed that the muscular swordsman had risen again. For a moment he could not hide his surprise and his jaw dropped a little, but then he regained his composure and looked directly at Dietrich. "I am Turedon of the Urshenk" he spoke, the words coming from between his lips this time. Then he abruptly looked skywards and a shrill cry issued from him. Dietrich had heard those before down in the forest and instantly recognized it as the war cry of the Urshenk.
Turedon began running towards Dietrich, his spear in both hands, pointing directly towards the grim mercenary.
**************************************
Hans gained consciousness as Flare approached the hurt trio. Roack was studying his wounded leg and the werewolf that was Solstara pulled out the arrow in her shoulder, the wound quickly closing as her supernatural werewolf body healed itself. "Quick!" Hans groaned. "The others need you and the Captain will arrive on the other side soon now. Go to his aid and protect that ring. Quick! Go!"
**************************************
Sharee looked upon Marcus and noticed that he looked younger than she had anticipated. Yet somehow he had a worn expression and his eyes were sunken, making him look haggard and exhausted. He merely chuckled at her, then he threw a golden sovereign on the floor. "There is more in it for you, if you are willing to do me a favour".
[OOC: The rest of this conversation between Sharee will be through pm. Sharee will reenter the game when the conversation is finished. Echo: Send me a pm with your reply] -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#111With a sudden and bizarre change, there is a clap of thunder. The clouds seem to tear out portions of themselves, releasing gigantic flurries of snow and freezing rain which crash to the ground. Domunsoka whips it's tongue through the air and raises it's strange claws to the skies.
There is a circle of stone dogs, ornately carved and with flashing eyes, that are seated politely around the ghost doll like students.
With a wide gesture, the wood-flesh creature bids them rise. One by one, they bow to it, and with a flash, they are gone, an escort for each member of the expedition. -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#112Dietrich circled the barbarian, he could rush him and try to upset his retreat. Swing his sword from behind and surprise him. Dietrich pondered on how to advance, keeping his eyes on his advesary at all times. Sweat burned his eyes, his body hurt. A map of pain he thought grimly. Scars crossing each other, telling tales of battles by-gone. He ignored all his previous tactics and went for it. Directly towards the barbarian with his sword raised, seeking to cleave him in two. -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#113It was so sudden - a moment ago, he stood there, a lord full of pride, now he lay there broken, a mangled flesh-doll; I had not moved a hand.
"Wow. I can wish people dead" I whispered to myself.
This was anticlimactic. Marcus lay dead there, whatever consumed him still boiling inside, bubbling, wanting to burst forth, to taint, despoil, consume.
There was little I could do there, except...
"Marcus El-Keddath, scholar and fool, noble and betrayer, lover and Tormentor of Solstra, bread-giver and life-taker of my brethren, hear mercy, and follow, even if only your soul may, body too frail; find redeption in vengeance against your slaver, speak of what ails him, what s his doom!"
I threw him a mystic rope, a link of aether, a last chance for his soul to follow. The earth shook and dust spewed forth from the walls as the colossal stone hounds strode by. I leapt out of the window, landing behind Hunthar.
"Move, mister smith, move... there is little time to lose..." -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#114Roack watched in horrified fascination as the City's guards bound through the gate, the blood of assasins staining their stone paws. his eyes moved away from them, averting their gaze for his sake, while fear drove his legs deeper into the city. His eyes wandered, too, calmer than the rest of his body, to them, the city was an art gallery, something beautiful and alien. To his body it was a living hell. His legs buckling under the weight of his fear. Where was he? Not home. That was all that mattered. -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#115The wolf growled, still tormented by the all too recent agony it had endured. Its natural caution was begining to resemble fear too closely as its instincts warned it to flee this place as fast as possible. The primitive mind of the wolf was.. unsettled. It did not smell right, this place. There was a powerful scent of danger about it, akin to the scent of smoke carried on the furious breezes generated by a raging forest fire. Whatever had attacked them so far, there was a lot more of it destined to come their way very soon, the shape-shifted Solstra knew.
But the pack was the pack. The alpha-male was giving her and the other two legged pack-brother orders, instructing them to set a watch over a valuble quarry. It would not do to let the prey escape.
Forcing aside its hesitation, the wolf begin to lope on its swift legs, intent on securing the prize that the pack so coveted. If this went well, the pack's future existence would not be in doubt, at least for now. -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#116Through the haze of murder and encroaching darkness, there was still a distant light somewhere, someplace. But he could not find it, and nothing he did could drown the screams that pierced his mind. Then she stood there, fair and tall, her hair akin to flaming darkness, beckoning him, urging for him to come.
There was moisture on his cheeks. Blood? No, Tears. He remembered those, yet he did not understand what they meant. All he could feel was the rage, the screams in his mind and the darkness that now possessed all. And as the hunter stalked his prey, fear in its eyes, he felt the distant light dwindle and disappear.
Then a rage unlike any he had ever felt before consumed him, and the hunter felt complete.
No. Not complete. I am undone. I am undone. Forgive me my brethren!
The light was no more.
***********************************
Flare escorted Roack and Solstara, running down the road, dodging pools of blood and goo. There was a clap of thunder and suddenly the ghost doll appeared four dogs in quick pursuit.
For a few minutes they ran, the houses passing by like fleet shadows from the past. Somehow it all felt like a dream, a very strange dream and they were not quite sure they liked it. Small, black clad men harassed their journey, but the stone dogs took the forefront and they were flung aside when the massive dogs collided with the would-be attackers.
The journey ended as abruptly as it had begun, the mercenaries halting at a small square. Dietrich lay there, lifeless in a pool of blood. His eyes wide and bulging, his dark hair matted with blood. The swordsman had never been pretty, but there was something profane in his final posture. It was as if death had come surprisingly, yet his opponent showed clear marks of Dietrich’s blade. That very blade was now broken, having impacted with the skull of a tattooed tribal that now lay cleaved beside the once proud swordsman. Strangely enough Dietrich bore no signs of any wounds, yet he seemed to have blood all over.
At the middle of the square stood a young woman, her hair wild and ruffled, her eyes looking strangely wise. There was something about that woman, something the mercenaries could not quite place. Yet when she spoke, she spoke but a single word. And her voice was pure, her tone soft and inviting.
"Ah'twhan"
And the mercenaries dropped their unsheated weapons and they threw themselves prostate at the ground, for they were in the presence of the one, the Mater Domino.
********************************
Sharee did not wait for her spell to bear fruit, rather she jumped onto the windowsill, grabbing a nearby statue of an angelic boy with ram horns, using it to propel herself onto the roof. Her motions were fluid and she landed behind Huntar. The smith was choking two assassins, one with each of his hands. Yet the assassins were covered with frost and their eyes were bulging, their lips stiff and pale from the lack of blood. He just stood there, growling and shaking the corpses, when he suddenly turned to face his friend, Sharee.
For a moment Sharee felt as if there was some kind of recognition, but the moment quickly faded and the smith issued a growl, his mouth foaming. Then she noticed something strange in the corner of her eye. From behind and beneath her a black stream of smoke rolled, maddened whispers moaning her name, invisible claws tearing at her hair.
Then Hunthar lunged at her, his arms outstretched, murder in his eyes.
*************************
She was gone. Mother was gone. Flare noticed he had been crying, his lips kissing her feet as she carefully trod past, his fingers fumbling for a touch of her skin. And now she was gone, and the emptiness inside was too much to bear.
*************************
Roack had flung himself prostrate alongside his friends, but it was more on intuition than anything else. For some strange minutes his friends had been whining and moaning, sounding more like growling, scared puppies than soldiers. Roack had played along and for some odd reason he felt an utter fealing of dread as a young woman stepped over him. For a couple of seconds he was sure she was going to kill him, or at the very least hurt him badly, but she left and when she was gone, his friends began whimpering for several seconds. Then, finally, they came to their senses, seeming more like their old selves.
She had said something... A word. Roack scanned his memory, but he could not remember what the word was and when confronted his friends just said that, no, they hadn't heard a single word. They had experienced salvation, and that was more than words could express.
A shiver went down his spine. -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#117Domunsoka falls to it's knees. It's slavering jaw hangs slack, and the tense bound-up menace in it's shoulders seems to vanish.
The ghost doll mangles forth a word: "Aaah'twaaannn" and claws toward the empty space where the apparition once stood. -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#118The wolf Solstra unleashes an eerie wail, somewhere between a wolf's howl of grief and a woman's shriek of rage. The wolf mourns, but the womn rages, furious at being toyed with by the mysterious force. -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#119Wolves. Dogs. Possessed ex-comrades.
"Sorry that I can't chat" I said to Hunthar, and, some fancy footwork later, slid the drain pipe down from the roof, marginally missing a gargoyle. "Sorry too."
One story above street level I heard a cracking sound from above, folloved by the whining of aged metal giving away. The drain.
Cursing, I leapt down to the pavement on all fours, and, still dazed, rolled sideways, the corroded pipes exploding into a cloud of rust next to me.
Coughing, I made my way to the central plaza. Whoever was behind this, he was in for a good beating. -
Re: Coldforged - Shadows of War: Chapter 1 - Ûr-Keldon
#120The dark haze drifted past Sharee as she climbed off the roof, beginning her slide down the drain pipe. She wasn't sure, but she thought she heard "Thank you" whispered as the cloud wifted past. Hunthar was stopped short in his tracks, cold dark hands materializing from the cloud, grappling him and bringing him down.
As Sharee hit the ground she thought she heard a feral howl a split second before the pipe came crashing down.
********************************'
There was an eerie silence at the central plaza as the disoriented mercenaries shook their heads, trying to make sense of it all. The young woman had disappeared and an odd longing had taken root in their hearts. The wind howled as if in response to their unnatural longing, and from the mysterious garden came a gust of wind bearing fallen leaves. Among those leaves a lone woman ran, the witch Sharee, her coughing and cursing echoing through the streets.
[OOC: Time for some proactive action guys. It is now up to your characters to do something, anything, to push the story onwards. If the group should prove halting do not hesitate to act on your own with your character. The bonuses will soon be handed out and active characters, such as Sharee, will get a handsome bonus.]