The Gods Hate Us

[Zerth]

Baril

Idiots. Utter imbeciles. Who ever said, we'd go in just randomly killing people? Well, let's play like they want and enter the city nice and quiet. This is Cuthbert's city. Cuthbert's! They *will* come to get us, and then I *will* get to let out some steam. Fine, good enough.

Baril snorted. "Well, I could use a drink. This useless conversation has made me thirsty. Besides, you're going to need someone to bail you out from the trouble you're walking in so blindly. Shall we?" He bows sarcastically and points at the city.

 

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

*Ruslan makes a gesture as if dismissing a servant to Toryn's back, and enters the city as if they were his entourage. He does not want to deign to go to a tavern, though he knows he much, and catches up to Baril.*

"Fools," he mutters. "When the Cuthberts come to break up our party, I can enhance your speed if you wish. I'm afraid we're going to have to clear a path through a squad of the rotters before we can get out of town, organized wretches that they are."

 

[deadestdai]

Wordlessly, Pabsit nods at Oskar's suggestion and follows, content that his idea was the best one afterall.

 

[Ankh-Morpork Guard]

As the group approached the city, a soft gust of cold air passed in front of them. The large walls of the city ahead of them seemed to blur in a strange yet non-existant fog. A soft, yet strangely dangerous voice wove through them with the air, "So without thought one approaches a trap...yet so very expected from one grounded and blind."

 

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

*Ruslan makes a gesture to Igor, and the servant comes up close to his master. Ruslan passes the thin man what appears to be a black handkerchief, and the man nods, holding it carefully between his hands.*

*Digging into his pockets, Ruslan closes his hand upon a small hourglass with an aquamarine on it. Smiling cruelly, he turns to face the voice.*

"Get on with it, you great bank of fog! If you're going to do some irredemably stupid before we even enter this city, let's get it done out here where there is room!" Ruslan says with an imperious wave of his hand.

 

[Juggernaut]

Toryn draws his Warhammer of Brilliant Energy, holds it in his right hand as he grasps the holy symbol which dangles from his neck in his left, and exclaims, "Yeah! Bring it!"

 

[Lefferts]

Oskar turns and looks at the fog silently, waiting for it to make a move.

 

[Ankh-Morpork Guard]

The air weaved through and around them again, a light laugh could be heard as it did so, "So brutish and brainless like your little friend there. Think you not before before trying to kill air?" it wisped around Toryn, and he noticed it was considerably colder for that short moment, "No threat do I bring, simple curiousity only. You rush towards a fortress of your hunter, most holy. So long you have run and strained to survive, yet always without you thoughts to keep you alive."

 

[Zerth]

Baril

Baril smiled as Ruslan spoke to him. He nods and whispers back, "Mark my words, necromancer, the streets of that city will be painted red, before the end of this day. Our way would've been so much cleaner."

When the mysterious voice spoke to them, Baril's hand made a small move invisible to eye under his black cloak. The hand was hidden beneath the layers of black cloth, but his fingers were already grasping the Eclipse as Ruslan adressed the voice in the wind.

A warning? Or a threat? We'll find out soon...

 

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

"We have had many thoughts of survival, fog-head. You presume much for one who will not even show their face or intentions," Ruslan says, with another gesture to Igor. Igor prepares to open the handkerchief, in reality Rulsan's portable hole, which contains several of his undead creations.