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Story Hour
Carnifex's Story Hour (Updated January 20th, "The Union")
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<blockquote data-quote="Carnifex" data-source="post: 603826" data-attributes="member: 227"><p>Kale's inquiries were subtly slipped into the game, eventually drawing the responses he wanted from the gathered assemble of four.</p><p></p><p>"Something that slow's 'em, eh? Dulls their reflexes, something like that?"</p><p></p><p>"Sittik maybe? That bites into a mans reflexes, makes people all clumsy and suchlike - and it happens I might know where to get a dose or two from, close at hand, if someone were, eh, willing to pay the kind of money, you know..."</p><p></p><p>Things about the card table were going about the way Kale expected, though the price for the drought he sought was higher than he'd hoped. Trading grunts and ribs, a little gold exchanged hands as the dingy cards did the same.</p><p></p><p>Negotiations had moved on to Kale asking after corrosive acids, but then things changed.</p><p></p><p>Down the steps into the small basement, more feet tapped the stacato pattern on the stone to announce a newcomer. Tall and lean, clad in robes suited to a merchant and carrying himself with an air of confidence, the sharp-featured man took in the appearance of Kale in this basement with some shock.</p><p></p><p>"Who is he," he snapped, "and what is he doing here? And more to the point, do you have what I asked for?" The man stepped closer, peering closer at Kale.</p><p></p><p>One of the men had shrugged and reached for a package, obviously what the newcomer was demanding, but then the merchant seemed to realise something as he looked closely at Kale and choked in shock, spluttering for a few moments before regaining his composure.</p><p></p><p>He pushed his heavy cloak away to free up his hands. "The whelp with that Blade, eh? Here to spy on me?"</p><p></p><p>Fiery arcane magic surged up his arms and lit his hands with incandescence as arcane energies suddenly began to stir the air into swirling breezes. As the merchant's eyes glowed with arcane fury, the other occupants of the basement backed off in alarm, sending chairs clattering across the floor as they stood up quickly in their alarm. "What the - "</p><p></p><p>Kale rolled his eyes. Inside, he cursed his forgetfulness at not re-covering his swordhilt. While still in Corinthia, he had fashioned a reasonable diguise, but sometime during the crew's lycanthope adventure, the disguise had somehow come loose. No use wondering about it now.</p><p></p><p>What was a wonder, was how every mage felt that the world revolved around him. That's what the man was, a bloody vain mage, channeling energy and flowing with flame-power. The man's glowing eyes were a disconcerting image that threatened fear's affliction nearly as quickly as Kale could quell the fear's flames in his heart.</p><p></p><p>He knew. He knew about the blade- and whoever was behind it. Likely, he also knew much more, and he wouldn't be satisfied with any of the mercenary's truthful 'I know nothing' responses.</p><p></p><p>So instead, in the midst of arcane flames, Kale bid his bluff while all the other gamblers fled the table.</p><p></p><p>It was quite possible Kale knew only the first thing about the kind of trouble he was dealing with, but as he stood there, hidden and enigmatic, he found the foundation he needed, at the base of his lie. He'd survived the flaming inferno of an infested wolf-house. He'd weathered the siege of an entire werewolf coven, beating at least their Master, and his grievous magic. He'd seen pain, blood, loss, death... and victory. Anxieties and worries skittered about his thoughts, but his eyes and his manner spoke volumes of what he'd truly seen... fought... and survived.</p><p></p><p>"I don't care about you, or your bloody package... and my Blade is the least of your worries." Amazed at the calm in his voice, experience spoke from deep inside. The mercenary was still young, he'd seen so little of the world. Powers and forces he didn't even know dwelled in places he hadn't even seen. For him, there was a lot of danger in the uncertainty, but the same could be said for a startled mage, in a confined place, facing an unknown, Blade-wielding foe.</p><p></p><p>At Kale's brave announcement, the man faltered for a moment as if confused by the mercenary's words, before understanding dawned on his face. "You think I'm talking about your sword, don't you, you ignorant little cretin," he sneered, his face harshly illuminated by the arcane energies playing over his arms. "Idiot youth, killing you'll be a kindness if you're as much of a fool as you appear to be."</p><p></p><p>And the room erupted in flames.</p><p></p><p>The man's sudden wave of a hand and arcane syllable had been too fast for Kale to use his little smoke-making trick, too fast for the mercenary to even escape the immolating brunt of the fireball that fiercely gnawed with tongues of flame at the occupants of the room. The gamblers scattered, trying to escape from the wreathes of smoke and fire that licked up over the furnishings and their own clothes, while the mage just seemed to stand there and accept the inferno raging over him and burning at his clothes. Within moments the heat had died down again, leaving all the occupants of the room badly scorched.</p><p></p><p>Kale's flesh felt as if it was still on fire where the magical flames had raged across it, wisps of smoke drifting around him from the barrage of heat, and to make things worse it looked like the spellcaster - who although burned was still quite acceptably capable of battle - was preparing to hurl more in Kale's direction...</p><p></p><p>For a moment, Kale didn't know where he had gone wrong, but realization crashed in on him in wave after cruel wave.</p><p></p><p>Fool, it was true, and the firey mage must have delighted in seeing the mercenary's eyes go wide in horror and disbelief. Instinctively throwing up in a hand in futile defence, Kale felt the rush and roar, and incredible pain.</p><p></p><p><em>What madman would call fire on himself?</em> Kale begged to know. Off balance, surprised, and devoid of advantage, he wondered numbly how he could have allowed himself to fall into such fate.</p><p></p><p>Wisps of smoke lifted from flash-burned funiture all about the room. Bystandards were rightfully scared into retreat, while Kale and the fire mage stood directly in their midst. Desperate injured eyes met a gaze crackling with arcane energy.</p><p></p><p>In a hanging moment, willpower scraped back control of a reluctant body, and Kale bolted for all he was worth. Retreat. Damn. And the only thing he had to say was, <strong>"Shushurek"</strong></p><p></p><p><em>DM's Note: Shushurek is the command word for Kale's magic ring.</em></p><p></p><p><em>Shushurek.</em></p><p></p><p>The air shimmered with energy, wierd sensations playing over Kale's skin for a moment before... all was dark.</p><p></p><p>There was an angry cry from his attacker, and through the dark, Kale made a move for the door. One hand tugged a bag of caltrops free which scattered, tinging as they skittered across the floor to cover his escape route.</p><p></p><p>The merchant was trying to guage his position by hearing, it seemed, deprived as the man was of the targeting facility of sight. A few more muttered words as Kale was almost out of the door and then a hiss of magic just past the mercenary's ear. Whatever the spell had been, Kale had been fortunate.</p><p></p><p>He emerged from the globe of darkness, bursting forth to lope up the stairs, the passage still heavy with smoke and fumes, and then he was out into the late evening light of the street...</p><p></p><p>To be faced with two very surprised men, clad in heavy leather armour. They had just been running over from a nearby coach, a functional carriage drawn by two horses, the flash and crackle of the fireball alerting them that something was wrong, and with their blades drawn they were still too shocked at coming literally face-to-face with Kale that they took some few moments to act.</p><p></p><p>From down the stairs, within the gloom, there was a crunch as someone stepped on caltrops, followed by a howl of pain. The merchant's cry tailed off into curses, and a yell of "Get the bastard! Kaelos, Garus, can you hear me? <em>Stop him!</em>"</p><p></p><p><em>These must be the mage's lackeys.</em></p><p></p><p>Kale dove forwards past the two men who sought to block his path; already they were struggling to pull blades from sheathes and lash out at the mercenary, but his fleetness of foot and edge in already being in full flight kept them off balance. Even so, one steel sword caught him as he passed, a wild swing that through chance more than skill struck true, digging a red line down his arm though it was not deep. Before they could do any more the shadow-wreathed man was round the corner and merged with darkness.</p><p></p><p>Kale settled well into the shadows before removing his black ring. Shadows and ancient magic, indeed: the unknown powers had saved him this night. Silent and watching, the young mercenary waited, bow in hand, in overwatch of the mage's carriage. No doubt, the man knew they had reached town before the band themselves had. Burned and vulnerable, Kale wanted to know why.</p><p></p><p>From his hiding place, burns stinging and with the new pain of the sword strike, Kale could hear what came afterwards. Muttered curses and grunts of pain as the mage struggled up the stairs, his lackeys running to aid him up but being waved off with irritated expletives. "Where is that idiot? Didn't you stop him? Gah, you fools! Now he'll go back and tell the Blade agent what happened here, and before we know it they'll be breathing down the cell's neck again." The merchant hobbled over to his carriage and sourly sat down on the mounting step, the wooden structure creaking as he rested his frame on it.</p><p></p><p>Kale settled his breathing and took to memorizing the man's face, demeanor, cohorts, carriage. The 'merchant man' had dealings that ran deep, none of them would likely prove very beneficial to a certain freelance mercenary and his tattoo-bearing custodian. It was critical that the mercenary somehow regain the initiative against the trio, although how he could was a mystery entirely.</p><p></p><p>He burned and hurt all over- and the glancing slice to his shoulder was hurting well enough in its own right. Listening to the men, he undrew his bow long enough to bring a small vial to his lips. The dark quietness of the streets were a cold treason to Kale's time of need. Dusty streets and dark shadows, so often a haven and place of business, were now just an brick-built urban wasteland. <em>C'mon boys, head home so we can start the hunt...</em> he thought, anxious to end his erratic retreat.</p><p></p><p>"I caught him with me blade, sir, and..."</p><p></p><p>"So? You still didn't manage to stop him, did you, so what does it matter?"</p><p></p><p>"What I was trying to say, sir, is that the injury's left a blood trail. We can follow him. Find out where he and the Blade are lairing." Kale nearly coughed on the last of his potion. Healing waters flowed into his body, but for how he felt, he may as well have swallowed bile. The hunt was on, alright, but he was still the prey. Crouching behind a woodshake corner, he suddenly felt way too close to the carriage and the three men.</p><p></p><p>A low chuckle sounded, the mage catching on. "How very well noted indeed. Yes, an excellent idea, and one I can improve on a little too. What we need is a good tracker." Arcane words flitted through the air, and then with a magical crackle and a faint ashen smell on the air, a spell drew something new onto the street.</p><p></p><p><em>What we need is for you to die,</em> the young mercenary thought optimistically as he regained his aim. He was too slow on the uptake, however, and the mage's mysterious words were loosed before a certain silver arrow.</p><p></p><p>"Is it a good idea to do that on the street, sir?" one of the lackeys asked worriedly.</p><p></p><p>"The risk is outweighed by the benefits." The spellcaster had made his belief in that maxim clear when he fireballed at point blank range earlier.</p><p></p><p>The mage spoke again, now in a sinister, sibilant tongue that was answered by a low, growling bark. The sound of paws pattering over cobbles headed towards Kale, following the trail of blood.</p><p></p><p>"We'll follow it, see where it leads us... wait! It smells him! He's still close!"</p><p></p><p>In another heartbeat, Kale had his target- what was that? Hound's footfalls, a dog's bark, but no animal to be seen. Another bloody mage trick, Kale thought as his disdain for the art continued to grow. Looking out to the dimlit area, Kale moved his aim from the mage's enticing throat to the strange sounds, where he carefully imagined the approach of an invisible dog. Every step along the larger cobble road was a dreadful toll in Kale's ears.</p><p></p><p>An arrow launched -</p><p></p><p>-and the race was on.</p><p></p><p>The potion had alleviated some of the pain of the burns and at least stopped the blood flow from the blade wound, but the mercenary was finding it altogether too little particularly improve the situation for him. He could feel the flaring pain along his arms as he pulled the bow-strong back, letting an arrow fly towards the location of the invisible creature as best he could pinpoint it; the missile skittered along the cobbles without striking anything.</p><p></p><p>Pounding his body to obey, Kale made to sprint for the next corner, regretting that his caltrops had already been used, albeit successfully. Instead the resourceful light fighter reached for the tindertwig-smokestick he'd planned to use so recently. The street's expanses called to him as he yearned and pulled for the next intersection.</p><p></p><p>Keeping in mind the way he had come, a desperate mind clung to what little he knew of the city. Somewhere, there had to be an advantage. But for the moment, he occupied his mind pushing for more speed, and looking for some way onto the rooftops.</p><p></p><p>The smell of ash and coals grew stronger and before he could make it off the starting block to sprint away the summoned thing was on him; he heard jaws clacking and biting at him as he desperately tried to fend off something he couldn't see. It must have been about the size of a large attack dog but beyond that he couldn't tell any more, as the other three at the scene were able now to make out where the mercenary had hidden himself.</p><p></p><p>As Kale tried to run from the creature, he felt jaws lock onto his leg and yank hard, trying to pull him down, but he managed to kick free to the sound of angry snarls from his attacker and fled as fast as he could, fumbling for the tindersmoke. The two lackeys were closing fast, the mage hobbling along far behind at a much slower pace, while the invisible beast...</p><p></p><p>Was still snapping at his heels, growling and barking. Again, he felt jaws on his leg, the monster trying to trip him and bring him down, but again he managed to pull free, his attempts to countertrip sadly not succeeding. He was outpacing the men at least, as he dropped the tindersmoke which began to belt out smog, but the damned invisible beast was keeping up on his trail...</p><p></p><p>And this time, as he moved to continue fleeing, the beast found purchase and pulled Kale off his feet. Suddenly the fetid breath of the thing was right next to him, blowing over his face, along with a rising growl. He could just about see the two men approaching, through the veil of smoke, sweaty and carefully looking around for him.</p><p></p><p>Under protest by all sorts of unknown emotions, the desperate mercenary flailed and ran as best he could. Training and tricks didn't prepare him for the invisible beast, and he was at a marked disadvantage while scrabbling for an escape. Dropping smoke and digging his boots into the dark cobbled road, Kale could have expected to escape the armsmen easilly, if not for the growlings and swipes from his unseen foe.</p><p></p><p>It seemed for ages that Kale was fighting and evading, always on the brink, always one step from disaster. And then, he fell. Unseen jaws finding purchase on his pantleg, there was no way the young mercenary could keep himself up. Pivoting and falling to the alley street, he wondered absently if it was the end.</p><p></p><p>The pain of impact broke him out of his musings, however. Burnt skin abraded rubbed, the pain at least a partwelcome reminder that he was indeed, still alive. Steps away, two swordsmen sought him out carefully, practiced steps and careful eyes guiding their way to target. And an unworldly stench told Kale that the other grim hunter was very close, indeed.</p><p></p><p>In an instant, lazy gray smoke exploded to cover the scene, almost like a polite veil to conceal his doom. Cloak bunched on his side, skin charred, pants chewed, mail bloody, eyes desperate- it was a charity to be unseen. There in the cruel face of defeat, the world granted him one honorable concession.</p><p></p><p>An honorable death? Honorable defeat? Gasping for breath on the cold-cobble street, Kale couldn't say that honor was anything that he pursued. And defeat? That was not even part of the question.</p><p></p><p>Clumsy enough to be tripped by his foe, the mercenary still found deft hands to sweep up his cloak, pulling his brooch-pin free. Sweeping the fabric up and over the fetid breath of his adversary, he struck out with the stilletto-like pin, stabbing down to hold the blindfold fast. <em>Turnabout is fair play, eh, you bastard?</em></p><p></p><p>Kale felt jaws puncture the skin of one of his arms and blood flowed freely as he swept the cloak round, wrapping it round the head of his attacker asit let go of his arm again. He tried to pin it on, but the invisible beast was thrashing and trying to break free; he tried another stab, but the pain and fatigue of all the struggles and injuries of this night was really beginning to tell and he just couldn't get the cloak secured. Seeing the men approaching through the smoke now, getting too close for comfort, he was forced to resort to fleeing once again, leaving behind him the bizarre image of a cloak thrashing about in mid-air.</p><p></p><p>Pretty quickly it had freed itself again, and though he had gotten some small head start Kale knew the chase was on in earnest once more.</p><p></p><p>Staggering at top speed, dragging his bloody-burned body down the street, the night's chase was certainly taking its toll on the lone mercenary. Clutching his torn arm as he ran, Kale wondered absently why he hadn't chosen to be a merchant, after all.</p><p></p><p>Breaths came in desperate gulps as he drew his rope and grapnel. <em>Coulda been in Iril right now, pulling in griploads of gold...</em> his mind thought with a cruelly ironic light. Why did he ever choose this way, to be cut down in the street, presumably grilled for all he knew before being quietly eliminated? Bouncing his way around the corner, Kale let fly his grapnel, clawing his way up rope and wall fiercely enough to draw blood from his fingertips.</p><p></p><p>He counseled his body for calm, for endurance, but it was all in vain. Reaching for the rooftops, his bloody body must have reeked of fear. <em>C'mon, get it together,</em> he thought in a scramble, hoping at least for one last vein of professionalism in face of his enemies.</p><p></p><p><em>Better yet, just get on the damn roof- worry about manners later.</em></p><p></p><p>There was a clunk as the grapnel caught a hold on the roof, and with a surge of weary pain Kale clambered up it to the relative safety of the slate rooftop above. At last he could pause for a few moments of rest.</p><p></p><p>Down below the two guards jogged up, along with a low growling that must have signalled the beast that had been tracking him. They wandered over to where the beast was - they seemed able to see it, as if it was only invisible for Kale - and peered at the spot where he had begun climbing.</p><p></p><p>"Look here - blood spots. He must have climbed up the wall. By Gilamesh, we're never going to catch him now. There's no way I'm climbing up there and scrambling over rooftops after him. 'Sides, guards might be here soon, or worse."</p><p></p><p>Kale their words with relief, allowing himself to relax just a bit. Waiting for the men to depart a few feet away, he quickly and quietly made away. His intact shirstsleeve had become an improvised bandage, and with the repair, there was no part of his body that was not bruised battered, burned, or bloodied. What was worse, he had no cloak to hide his sorry state.</p><p></p><p>The wounded man had very little energy to spare thought for anything but getting himself to safety. However, as he made his paining roundabout way through the streets, he chafed even more that he didn't put a scratch on any of the men who had attacked him that night. Walking smoothly and learning slowly by pains which movements he shouldn't make, the dark deserted streets provided a needed isolation.</p><p></p><p>As the cool evening wind blew against his charred skin, Kale knew that survival in part had to be success. He pulled away from the encounter armed with descriptions, vague motives, and possibly connections. The thought of this as 'victory,' however, chided him like a cruel joke.</p><p></p><p><em>Kaelos, Garus, I'm coming for you, and your fire slinging master, too,</em> the mercenary thought, with a good amount of bile in his attitude. <em>'By Gilamesh...'</em> But such personal attachments to the night's events were unnecessary. At least that was the conclusion he came to, too exhausted to put action to thought in any case. Maybe in the morning he could make some sense out of all this.</p><p></p><p>In a few blocks, the fire of his anger had already died down. Anything important about the men he'd encountered went far beyond any personal vendettas, and Kale had no energy left for his ego to hold score.</p><p></p><p>After many roundabouts and sliptails, Kale snuck his way into a certain horsestable, recovering his mount in the market district. It was a gripping pain, settling an old horseblanket on his shoulders to conceal his wounds. The merciful fortune was that quiet movement was practiced instinct to the man, with no extra energy needed for his discretion. In a few moments, his 'flavor of the week' horse was bridled, saddled, and ready. With all he could muster, he spoke an even "Thanks," to the waking stable boy, tossing a couple coppers as spurred his mount free of the stuffy wood building.</p><p></p><p>The desire burned in his heart, to head straight back to bath and bed, but it would still be a long time before his mount was stabled once again. Braced against the abrasive jarring of his trotting horse, Kale gritted his teeth for what seemed like eternity, looping cutoffs among the dales and hills for miles before turning to meet the Tavarus Estate.</p><p></p><p>"Please let me know when Wolf or Wyshira return," he said simply to the gate guard, whose expression Kale couldn't describe, even if he wasn't half-gone exhausted.</p><p></p><p>The battered mercenary had no memory of what happened next.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Carnifex, post: 603826, member: 227"] Kale's inquiries were subtly slipped into the game, eventually drawing the responses he wanted from the gathered assemble of four. "Something that slow's 'em, eh? Dulls their reflexes, something like that?" "Sittik maybe? That bites into a mans reflexes, makes people all clumsy and suchlike - and it happens I might know where to get a dose or two from, close at hand, if someone were, eh, willing to pay the kind of money, you know..." Things about the card table were going about the way Kale expected, though the price for the drought he sought was higher than he'd hoped. Trading grunts and ribs, a little gold exchanged hands as the dingy cards did the same. Negotiations had moved on to Kale asking after corrosive acids, but then things changed. Down the steps into the small basement, more feet tapped the stacato pattern on the stone to announce a newcomer. Tall and lean, clad in robes suited to a merchant and carrying himself with an air of confidence, the sharp-featured man took in the appearance of Kale in this basement with some shock. "Who is he," he snapped, "and what is he doing here? And more to the point, do you have what I asked for?" The man stepped closer, peering closer at Kale. One of the men had shrugged and reached for a package, obviously what the newcomer was demanding, but then the merchant seemed to realise something as he looked closely at Kale and choked in shock, spluttering for a few moments before regaining his composure. He pushed his heavy cloak away to free up his hands. "The whelp with that Blade, eh? Here to spy on me?" Fiery arcane magic surged up his arms and lit his hands with incandescence as arcane energies suddenly began to stir the air into swirling breezes. As the merchant's eyes glowed with arcane fury, the other occupants of the basement backed off in alarm, sending chairs clattering across the floor as they stood up quickly in their alarm. "What the - " Kale rolled his eyes. Inside, he cursed his forgetfulness at not re-covering his swordhilt. While still in Corinthia, he had fashioned a reasonable diguise, but sometime during the crew's lycanthope adventure, the disguise had somehow come loose. No use wondering about it now. What was a wonder, was how every mage felt that the world revolved around him. That's what the man was, a bloody vain mage, channeling energy and flowing with flame-power. The man's glowing eyes were a disconcerting image that threatened fear's affliction nearly as quickly as Kale could quell the fear's flames in his heart. He knew. He knew about the blade- and whoever was behind it. Likely, he also knew much more, and he wouldn't be satisfied with any of the mercenary's truthful 'I know nothing' responses. So instead, in the midst of arcane flames, Kale bid his bluff while all the other gamblers fled the table. It was quite possible Kale knew only the first thing about the kind of trouble he was dealing with, but as he stood there, hidden and enigmatic, he found the foundation he needed, at the base of his lie. He'd survived the flaming inferno of an infested wolf-house. He'd weathered the siege of an entire werewolf coven, beating at least their Master, and his grievous magic. He'd seen pain, blood, loss, death... and victory. Anxieties and worries skittered about his thoughts, but his eyes and his manner spoke volumes of what he'd truly seen... fought... and survived. "I don't care about you, or your bloody package... and my Blade is the least of your worries." Amazed at the calm in his voice, experience spoke from deep inside. The mercenary was still young, he'd seen so little of the world. Powers and forces he didn't even know dwelled in places he hadn't even seen. For him, there was a lot of danger in the uncertainty, but the same could be said for a startled mage, in a confined place, facing an unknown, Blade-wielding foe. At Kale's brave announcement, the man faltered for a moment as if confused by the mercenary's words, before understanding dawned on his face. "You think I'm talking about your sword, don't you, you ignorant little cretin," he sneered, his face harshly illuminated by the arcane energies playing over his arms. "Idiot youth, killing you'll be a kindness if you're as much of a fool as you appear to be." And the room erupted in flames. The man's sudden wave of a hand and arcane syllable had been too fast for Kale to use his little smoke-making trick, too fast for the mercenary to even escape the immolating brunt of the fireball that fiercely gnawed with tongues of flame at the occupants of the room. The gamblers scattered, trying to escape from the wreathes of smoke and fire that licked up over the furnishings and their own clothes, while the mage just seemed to stand there and accept the inferno raging over him and burning at his clothes. Within moments the heat had died down again, leaving all the occupants of the room badly scorched. Kale's flesh felt as if it was still on fire where the magical flames had raged across it, wisps of smoke drifting around him from the barrage of heat, and to make things worse it looked like the spellcaster - who although burned was still quite acceptably capable of battle - was preparing to hurl more in Kale's direction... For a moment, Kale didn't know where he had gone wrong, but realization crashed in on him in wave after cruel wave. Fool, it was true, and the firey mage must have delighted in seeing the mercenary's eyes go wide in horror and disbelief. Instinctively throwing up in a hand in futile defence, Kale felt the rush and roar, and incredible pain. [i]What madman would call fire on himself?[/i] Kale begged to know. Off balance, surprised, and devoid of advantage, he wondered numbly how he could have allowed himself to fall into such fate. Wisps of smoke lifted from flash-burned funiture all about the room. Bystandards were rightfully scared into retreat, while Kale and the fire mage stood directly in their midst. Desperate injured eyes met a gaze crackling with arcane energy. In a hanging moment, willpower scraped back control of a reluctant body, and Kale bolted for all he was worth. Retreat. Damn. And the only thing he had to say was, [b]"Shushurek"[/b] [i]DM's Note: Shushurek is the command word for Kale's magic ring.[/i] [i]Shushurek.[/i] The air shimmered with energy, wierd sensations playing over Kale's skin for a moment before... all was dark. There was an angry cry from his attacker, and through the dark, Kale made a move for the door. One hand tugged a bag of caltrops free which scattered, tinging as they skittered across the floor to cover his escape route. The merchant was trying to guage his position by hearing, it seemed, deprived as the man was of the targeting facility of sight. A few more muttered words as Kale was almost out of the door and then a hiss of magic just past the mercenary's ear. Whatever the spell had been, Kale had been fortunate. He emerged from the globe of darkness, bursting forth to lope up the stairs, the passage still heavy with smoke and fumes, and then he was out into the late evening light of the street... To be faced with two very surprised men, clad in heavy leather armour. They had just been running over from a nearby coach, a functional carriage drawn by two horses, the flash and crackle of the fireball alerting them that something was wrong, and with their blades drawn they were still too shocked at coming literally face-to-face with Kale that they took some few moments to act. From down the stairs, within the gloom, there was a crunch as someone stepped on caltrops, followed by a howl of pain. The merchant's cry tailed off into curses, and a yell of "Get the bastard! Kaelos, Garus, can you hear me? [i]Stop him![/i]" [i]These must be the mage's lackeys.[/i] Kale dove forwards past the two men who sought to block his path; already they were struggling to pull blades from sheathes and lash out at the mercenary, but his fleetness of foot and edge in already being in full flight kept them off balance. Even so, one steel sword caught him as he passed, a wild swing that through chance more than skill struck true, digging a red line down his arm though it was not deep. Before they could do any more the shadow-wreathed man was round the corner and merged with darkness. Kale settled well into the shadows before removing his black ring. Shadows and ancient magic, indeed: the unknown powers had saved him this night. Silent and watching, the young mercenary waited, bow in hand, in overwatch of the mage's carriage. No doubt, the man knew they had reached town before the band themselves had. Burned and vulnerable, Kale wanted to know why. From his hiding place, burns stinging and with the new pain of the sword strike, Kale could hear what came afterwards. Muttered curses and grunts of pain as the mage struggled up the stairs, his lackeys running to aid him up but being waved off with irritated expletives. "Where is that idiot? Didn't you stop him? Gah, you fools! Now he'll go back and tell the Blade agent what happened here, and before we know it they'll be breathing down the cell's neck again." The merchant hobbled over to his carriage and sourly sat down on the mounting step, the wooden structure creaking as he rested his frame on it. Kale settled his breathing and took to memorizing the man's face, demeanor, cohorts, carriage. The 'merchant man' had dealings that ran deep, none of them would likely prove very beneficial to a certain freelance mercenary and his tattoo-bearing custodian. It was critical that the mercenary somehow regain the initiative against the trio, although how he could was a mystery entirely. He burned and hurt all over- and the glancing slice to his shoulder was hurting well enough in its own right. Listening to the men, he undrew his bow long enough to bring a small vial to his lips. The dark quietness of the streets were a cold treason to Kale's time of need. Dusty streets and dark shadows, so often a haven and place of business, were now just an brick-built urban wasteland. [i]C'mon boys, head home so we can start the hunt...[/i] he thought, anxious to end his erratic retreat. "I caught him with me blade, sir, and..." "So? You still didn't manage to stop him, did you, so what does it matter?" "What I was trying to say, sir, is that the injury's left a blood trail. We can follow him. Find out where he and the Blade are lairing." Kale nearly coughed on the last of his potion. Healing waters flowed into his body, but for how he felt, he may as well have swallowed bile. The hunt was on, alright, but he was still the prey. Crouching behind a woodshake corner, he suddenly felt way too close to the carriage and the three men. A low chuckle sounded, the mage catching on. "How very well noted indeed. Yes, an excellent idea, and one I can improve on a little too. What we need is a good tracker." Arcane words flitted through the air, and then with a magical crackle and a faint ashen smell on the air, a spell drew something new onto the street. [i]What we need is for you to die,[/i] the young mercenary thought optimistically as he regained his aim. He was too slow on the uptake, however, and the mage's mysterious words were loosed before a certain silver arrow. "Is it a good idea to do that on the street, sir?" one of the lackeys asked worriedly. "The risk is outweighed by the benefits." The spellcaster had made his belief in that maxim clear when he fireballed at point blank range earlier. The mage spoke again, now in a sinister, sibilant tongue that was answered by a low, growling bark. The sound of paws pattering over cobbles headed towards Kale, following the trail of blood. "We'll follow it, see where it leads us... wait! It smells him! He's still close!" In another heartbeat, Kale had his target- what was that? Hound's footfalls, a dog's bark, but no animal to be seen. Another bloody mage trick, Kale thought as his disdain for the art continued to grow. Looking out to the dimlit area, Kale moved his aim from the mage's enticing throat to the strange sounds, where he carefully imagined the approach of an invisible dog. Every step along the larger cobble road was a dreadful toll in Kale's ears. An arrow launched - -and the race was on. The potion had alleviated some of the pain of the burns and at least stopped the blood flow from the blade wound, but the mercenary was finding it altogether too little particularly improve the situation for him. He could feel the flaring pain along his arms as he pulled the bow-strong back, letting an arrow fly towards the location of the invisible creature as best he could pinpoint it; the missile skittered along the cobbles without striking anything. Pounding his body to obey, Kale made to sprint for the next corner, regretting that his caltrops had already been used, albeit successfully. Instead the resourceful light fighter reached for the tindertwig-smokestick he'd planned to use so recently. The street's expanses called to him as he yearned and pulled for the next intersection. Keeping in mind the way he had come, a desperate mind clung to what little he knew of the city. Somewhere, there had to be an advantage. But for the moment, he occupied his mind pushing for more speed, and looking for some way onto the rooftops. The smell of ash and coals grew stronger and before he could make it off the starting block to sprint away the summoned thing was on him; he heard jaws clacking and biting at him as he desperately tried to fend off something he couldn't see. It must have been about the size of a large attack dog but beyond that he couldn't tell any more, as the other three at the scene were able now to make out where the mercenary had hidden himself. As Kale tried to run from the creature, he felt jaws lock onto his leg and yank hard, trying to pull him down, but he managed to kick free to the sound of angry snarls from his attacker and fled as fast as he could, fumbling for the tindersmoke. The two lackeys were closing fast, the mage hobbling along far behind at a much slower pace, while the invisible beast... Was still snapping at his heels, growling and barking. Again, he felt jaws on his leg, the monster trying to trip him and bring him down, but again he managed to pull free, his attempts to countertrip sadly not succeeding. He was outpacing the men at least, as he dropped the tindersmoke which began to belt out smog, but the damned invisible beast was keeping up on his trail... And this time, as he moved to continue fleeing, the beast found purchase and pulled Kale off his feet. Suddenly the fetid breath of the thing was right next to him, blowing over his face, along with a rising growl. He could just about see the two men approaching, through the veil of smoke, sweaty and carefully looking around for him. Under protest by all sorts of unknown emotions, the desperate mercenary flailed and ran as best he could. Training and tricks didn't prepare him for the invisible beast, and he was at a marked disadvantage while scrabbling for an escape. Dropping smoke and digging his boots into the dark cobbled road, Kale could have expected to escape the armsmen easilly, if not for the growlings and swipes from his unseen foe. It seemed for ages that Kale was fighting and evading, always on the brink, always one step from disaster. And then, he fell. Unseen jaws finding purchase on his pantleg, there was no way the young mercenary could keep himself up. Pivoting and falling to the alley street, he wondered absently if it was the end. The pain of impact broke him out of his musings, however. Burnt skin abraded rubbed, the pain at least a partwelcome reminder that he was indeed, still alive. Steps away, two swordsmen sought him out carefully, practiced steps and careful eyes guiding their way to target. And an unworldly stench told Kale that the other grim hunter was very close, indeed. In an instant, lazy gray smoke exploded to cover the scene, almost like a polite veil to conceal his doom. Cloak bunched on his side, skin charred, pants chewed, mail bloody, eyes desperate- it was a charity to be unseen. There in the cruel face of defeat, the world granted him one honorable concession. An honorable death? Honorable defeat? Gasping for breath on the cold-cobble street, Kale couldn't say that honor was anything that he pursued. And defeat? That was not even part of the question. Clumsy enough to be tripped by his foe, the mercenary still found deft hands to sweep up his cloak, pulling his brooch-pin free. Sweeping the fabric up and over the fetid breath of his adversary, he struck out with the stilletto-like pin, stabbing down to hold the blindfold fast. [i]Turnabout is fair play, eh, you bastard?[/i] Kale felt jaws puncture the skin of one of his arms and blood flowed freely as he swept the cloak round, wrapping it round the head of his attacker asit let go of his arm again. He tried to pin it on, but the invisible beast was thrashing and trying to break free; he tried another stab, but the pain and fatigue of all the struggles and injuries of this night was really beginning to tell and he just couldn't get the cloak secured. Seeing the men approaching through the smoke now, getting too close for comfort, he was forced to resort to fleeing once again, leaving behind him the bizarre image of a cloak thrashing about in mid-air. Pretty quickly it had freed itself again, and though he had gotten some small head start Kale knew the chase was on in earnest once more. Staggering at top speed, dragging his bloody-burned body down the street, the night's chase was certainly taking its toll on the lone mercenary. Clutching his torn arm as he ran, Kale wondered absently why he hadn't chosen to be a merchant, after all. Breaths came in desperate gulps as he drew his rope and grapnel. [i]Coulda been in Iril right now, pulling in griploads of gold...[/i] his mind thought with a cruelly ironic light. Why did he ever choose this way, to be cut down in the street, presumably grilled for all he knew before being quietly eliminated? Bouncing his way around the corner, Kale let fly his grapnel, clawing his way up rope and wall fiercely enough to draw blood from his fingertips. He counseled his body for calm, for endurance, but it was all in vain. Reaching for the rooftops, his bloody body must have reeked of fear. [i]C'mon, get it together,[/i] he thought in a scramble, hoping at least for one last vein of professionalism in face of his enemies. [i]Better yet, just get on the damn roof- worry about manners later.[/i] There was a clunk as the grapnel caught a hold on the roof, and with a surge of weary pain Kale clambered up it to the relative safety of the slate rooftop above. At last he could pause for a few moments of rest. Down below the two guards jogged up, along with a low growling that must have signalled the beast that had been tracking him. They wandered over to where the beast was - they seemed able to see it, as if it was only invisible for Kale - and peered at the spot where he had begun climbing. "Look here - blood spots. He must have climbed up the wall. By Gilamesh, we're never going to catch him now. There's no way I'm climbing up there and scrambling over rooftops after him. 'Sides, guards might be here soon, or worse." Kale their words with relief, allowing himself to relax just a bit. Waiting for the men to depart a few feet away, he quickly and quietly made away. His intact shirstsleeve had become an improvised bandage, and with the repair, there was no part of his body that was not bruised battered, burned, or bloodied. What was worse, he had no cloak to hide his sorry state. The wounded man had very little energy to spare thought for anything but getting himself to safety. However, as he made his paining roundabout way through the streets, he chafed even more that he didn't put a scratch on any of the men who had attacked him that night. Walking smoothly and learning slowly by pains which movements he shouldn't make, the dark deserted streets provided a needed isolation. As the cool evening wind blew against his charred skin, Kale knew that survival in part had to be success. He pulled away from the encounter armed with descriptions, vague motives, and possibly connections. The thought of this as 'victory,' however, chided him like a cruel joke. [i]Kaelos, Garus, I'm coming for you, and your fire slinging master, too,[/i] the mercenary thought, with a good amount of bile in his attitude. [i]'By Gilamesh...'[/i] But such personal attachments to the night's events were unnecessary. At least that was the conclusion he came to, too exhausted to put action to thought in any case. Maybe in the morning he could make some sense out of all this. In a few blocks, the fire of his anger had already died down. Anything important about the men he'd encountered went far beyond any personal vendettas, and Kale had no energy left for his ego to hold score. After many roundabouts and sliptails, Kale snuck his way into a certain horsestable, recovering his mount in the market district. It was a gripping pain, settling an old horseblanket on his shoulders to conceal his wounds. The merciful fortune was that quiet movement was practiced instinct to the man, with no extra energy needed for his discretion. In a few moments, his 'flavor of the week' horse was bridled, saddled, and ready. With all he could muster, he spoke an even "Thanks," to the waking stable boy, tossing a couple coppers as spurred his mount free of the stuffy wood building. The desire burned in his heart, to head straight back to bath and bed, but it would still be a long time before his mount was stabled once again. Braced against the abrasive jarring of his trotting horse, Kale gritted his teeth for what seemed like eternity, looping cutoffs among the dales and hills for miles before turning to meet the Tavarus Estate. "Please let me know when Wolf or Wyshira return," he said simply to the gate guard, whose expression Kale couldn't describe, even if he wasn't half-gone exhausted. The battered mercenary had no memory of what happened next. [/QUOTE]
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Carnifex's Story Hour (Updated January 20th, "The Union")
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