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Arcanis: Gonnes, Sons, and Treasure Runs (COMPLETED)
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<blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 2841168" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Assault Upon the Gates of Tears - Part 1a: Into the Breach</strong></p><p></p><p>The long trek from the Lost City of Balamshal to the southern coast of the Hinterlands had been arduous and taxing. </p><p></p><p>Vlad was visibly sweating in his Nierite full plate. He had painted it black, but nicks and scratches on the armor showed the red underneath, giving the armor the unpleasant impression that it was bleeding. </p><p></p><p>“I didn’t realize,” he huffed, “we’d have to travel this far.”</p><p></p><p>“Stop complaining,” said Kham, sweating beside him. “This armor is really uncomfortable.” Kham had traded in his traditional overcoat for Sicarite leather armor from a passing caravan of Yhing Hir traders. It was made of interlocked, water-shrunk leather plates tailored over a stiff bamboo framework that allowed more freedom of movement. </p><p></p><p>Vlad just shook his head in disbelief. </p><p></p><p>“Besides,” added Kham, “I’m carrying all this blastpowder.”</p><p></p><p>Vlad blinked. “Won’t you explode?”</p><p></p><p>“Only if you light it,” said an unfamiliar voice behind them. It was the other Milandisian, Holden Ash’ur. He had a belt of grenades slung over one shoulder. </p><p></p><p>Kham glanced sideways at him. “Yeah, right. We’re not going through any portals. It’d be a lot easier for the Arch Mages to teleport us to the destination, but the explosion would have destroyed the other half of what’s left of Balamshal.”</p><p></p><p>“For once, pay less attention to your powder horns and more to your vials and scrolls,” said Quintus, marching stoically ahead of them. He showed no signs of fatigue, even though they had been walking for hours. “The Arch Mages were kind enough to share their magic, but it does us no good if we do not know when and how to use it.”</p><p></p><p>“Share?” asked Kham. “I’m nearly broke from buying all this stuff. I wouldn’t want them to give us any supplies for free. It’s not like we’re saving the world or anything.”</p><p></p><p>“Don’t you ever stop talking?” asked Ilmarė in irritation. </p><p></p><p>“Speaking of not talking,” said Kham, “what’s up with you and Quintus?”</p><p></p><p>The corner of Ilmarė’s mouth twitched. “He believes he is going to die. He did not want me to come.”</p><p></p><p>“We’re all going to die,” said Holden. “Just a matter of whether you get to choose the time and place.”</p><p></p><p>Kham looked at Vlad accusingly. “Are all Milandisians that cheery?” </p><p></p><p>“Don’t look at me, he’s a clerk from the Shining Patrol,” said Vlad. “I’m just a conscript,” he took a swig from his wineskin. “We know how to have fun.”</p><p></p><p>They had arrived at their destination: a small rocky plain dotted with boulders. Six other teams stood around, preparing themselves for the bloody task ahead. Master Theron stood, pointing at one of the boulders.</p><p></p><p>“A clerk,” said Quintus, deciding to engage in conversation again. “I ask for the best men in the Empire and Milandir sends a clerk to join us?”</p><p></p><p>“Isn’t a signifer the equivalent of like, a Coryani accountant?” Kham asked innocently to Qutinus’ black.</p><p></p><p>Theron struck the ground behind the rock, dispelling the illusion. Only a black, gaping maw of a tunnel was left behind. He repeated the gesture six times and then, with a final nod, teleported away to a waiting ship somewhere off the coast.</p><p></p><p>“I may be a clerk,” said Holden, hefting a satchel full of scrolls, “but I know explosives better than anybody. I’m also a grenadier.”</p><p></p><p></p><p>“And I am a legionnaire,” said Quintus. “Let us hope between us that we have skills enough to survive. This day, we will perform acts of unparalleled bravery,” said Quintus, stepping down into the tunnel entrance. </p><p></p><p>“Or utmost stupidity,” said Kham.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 2841168, member: 3285"] [b]Assault Upon the Gates of Tears - Part 1a: Into the Breach[/b] The long trek from the Lost City of Balamshal to the southern coast of the Hinterlands had been arduous and taxing. Vlad was visibly sweating in his Nierite full plate. He had painted it black, but nicks and scratches on the armor showed the red underneath, giving the armor the unpleasant impression that it was bleeding. “I didn’t realize,” he huffed, “we’d have to travel this far.” “Stop complaining,” said Kham, sweating beside him. “This armor is really uncomfortable.” Kham had traded in his traditional overcoat for Sicarite leather armor from a passing caravan of Yhing Hir traders. It was made of interlocked, water-shrunk leather plates tailored over a stiff bamboo framework that allowed more freedom of movement. Vlad just shook his head in disbelief. “Besides,” added Kham, “I’m carrying all this blastpowder.” Vlad blinked. “Won’t you explode?” “Only if you light it,” said an unfamiliar voice behind them. It was the other Milandisian, Holden Ash’ur. He had a belt of grenades slung over one shoulder. Kham glanced sideways at him. “Yeah, right. We’re not going through any portals. It’d be a lot easier for the Arch Mages to teleport us to the destination, but the explosion would have destroyed the other half of what’s left of Balamshal.” “For once, pay less attention to your powder horns and more to your vials and scrolls,” said Quintus, marching stoically ahead of them. He showed no signs of fatigue, even though they had been walking for hours. “The Arch Mages were kind enough to share their magic, but it does us no good if we do not know when and how to use it.” “Share?” asked Kham. “I’m nearly broke from buying all this stuff. I wouldn’t want them to give us any supplies for free. It’s not like we’re saving the world or anything.” “Don’t you ever stop talking?” asked Ilmarė in irritation. “Speaking of not talking,” said Kham, “what’s up with you and Quintus?” The corner of Ilmarė’s mouth twitched. “He believes he is going to die. He did not want me to come.” “We’re all going to die,” said Holden. “Just a matter of whether you get to choose the time and place.” Kham looked at Vlad accusingly. “Are all Milandisians that cheery?” “Don’t look at me, he’s a clerk from the Shining Patrol,” said Vlad. “I’m just a conscript,” he took a swig from his wineskin. “We know how to have fun.” They had arrived at their destination: a small rocky plain dotted with boulders. Six other teams stood around, preparing themselves for the bloody task ahead. Master Theron stood, pointing at one of the boulders. “A clerk,” said Quintus, deciding to engage in conversation again. “I ask for the best men in the Empire and Milandir sends a clerk to join us?” “Isn’t a signifer the equivalent of like, a Coryani accountant?” Kham asked innocently to Qutinus’ black. Theron struck the ground behind the rock, dispelling the illusion. Only a black, gaping maw of a tunnel was left behind. He repeated the gesture six times and then, with a final nod, teleported away to a waiting ship somewhere off the coast. “I may be a clerk,” said Holden, hefting a satchel full of scrolls, “but I know explosives better than anybody. I’m also a grenadier.” “And I am a legionnaire,” said Quintus. “Let us hope between us that we have skills enough to survive. This day, we will perform acts of unparalleled bravery,” said Quintus, stepping down into the tunnel entrance. “Or utmost stupidity,” said Kham. [/QUOTE]
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