[Iron Kingdoms] The Age of Rust.

[Dirigible]

All:

Barely has the gibberish rhyme left the Rynnish man's lips, when one of the one of the creatures gives a strange, gurgling snarl and a whole-body twitch. It barely parries a thrust from Tyra's blade, and then for a moment it stands their, oozing water... before collapsing with a ploop into a puddle. It's fellows shamble through the trickling mess, their bloated, bent feet splashing, but within a handful of breaths, one by one, they dissolve too. Indeed, aall the remaining creatures perish by the same, unseen cause.

Moments later, the three of you (plus an unaware fourth) are alone, only the drip-drip of your dead adversaries and your own laboured breathing breaking the stillness.

 

[KaintheSeeker]

Tyra

Tyra wrinkles her nose at the smell. "Right.. that fat waste of skin coulda mention somat about things like that... cause that was terrible ugly thing I've just been seeing." spits on the mess in front of her. "30 percent of the take oughta have gotten us a bit more info." looks to the others. "Right, now we get everyone cleaned up and stitched up then go see what that lady 'as to say. Hopefully something better than what the fat lump of gristle had ta say."

 

[linnorm]

Eyvind

Doodloodloo
Doodloodloo

The tall young woman turns and walks away into the trees.
"Elsa! Elsa! I'm back!" He catches up to her and she turns. "It's good to see you again. Where are Ma and Pa? I want to tell them about what I've seen and show them this." He hefts a rifle, its metal bits reflecting oddly.

The young woman turns and continues walking. "Elsa, what's wrong? Don't you recognize me? I haven't been gone that long. I found that scum that dishonored you and dealt with him properly."

The young woman stops again and turns. "You've changed, Southerner." She turns away and fades into the misty forest.

*Eyvind sits bolt upright.*
"ELSA!"

OOC: A little dream sequence to entertain myself, I hope noone minds. The waking up part can fit in as it becomes appropriate.

 

[DJ_Colossus]

"Huh? Waz that you, magic fire fingers? Whaddid you do to them?"

Kneecap looks expectantly at Dark, pauses, then looks over the various gashes and bruises on his companions. And then the blood coming from his own wounds.

"Oi, Eyvind. Keep awake. Yer wounds look bad."

"We didna even make it to the sewers. Sorry lot we are. I don't wanna stay here. Let's go find a safehouse where we can rest and recuperate a bit. I may know of one nearby... They're proper gobber-folk, but some may be a little leery around the tall pink-skins. Don't worry though. I'm charming enough to get us all in and taken care of."

The squat gobber flashes a wry smile.

"Then we come back and BASH the knees of whoever set us up!"


OOC: I'm assuming that Kneecap will know of at least one safehouse where he can rest for a night or two. Would Knowledge:Corvis (+4) apply, or some other skill? If this is cool with you Dirigible, Kneecap will lead the party there where they can rest & heal up.

 

[Dirigible]

All:

"Not so much of the 'fat', me darlin'... I like to think I keep meself in good bloomin' trim..." Gleiner drawls as he swaggers out from somewhere in the back of his offices to the grill, and looks out at you. "And, to be fair, me little chickadees, you shun't getcha hopes up about me givin' you a bonus for alla this mess... as a matter of fact, you'll be payin' for me bloody door." He scowls, then grins.

"Still, yer alive, though it don't speak to highly for ya that you manage to getcha arses handed back to you not ten feet from your employer's door..."

 

[DJ_Colossus]

Kneecap waves an accusing finger at Gleiner and thinks Yah, good trim for all them custards you been eatin, you cheatin' bastad.

"We die and you lose your fifteen percent! Now, what were those things out there and how did they know we were here? That just seems like too much of a coincidence to me, and I know the trade!"

"There's something you're not telling us, and my friend here with the magic fire fingers and crazy eyes wants to know what it is..."

 

[Dirigible]

All:

Gleiner smirtks down at Kneecap. "There's a lot of fings I know that I ain't tellin' ya, Gobber... and it's probably best for ya iff'n it stays that way. 'Owever, whatever ye were clashin' 'eads with out there ain't one of 'em." He grins bleakly. "And yer wise not to pin it down ta coincidence. Ain't no such things round 'ere."

He peers speculativly at the unconscious Eyvind. "Th' Kossite still alive, izzy? He's a bit of a mate, and I'd not like ta see him bled to death on my floor, if you'd be so good. Mebee you can see your way clear to gettin' him some medicine?"

 

[DJ_Colossus]

"Some help you are, yeh bleedin' taskmaster."

Kneecap ignores Gleiner and begins tugging on his ears. I certainly don't trust this fat lout. He set us up, and he knows what we're going up against. The sooner we get out of here the better.

"Can anyone bind Eyvind's wounds so he's not bleedin' all over custard belly's floor? We don't want to have to buy him a new rug as well."

"Now, shall we take our leave to a safehouse? I know of one nearby where we can stay for a night or two. Long enough to catch our wind and get Eyvind back on his feet."

 

[Shadowfane]

Dark flinches at the fat man’s words “…alive, Izzy?...” A strange shadow, passes over his face and what little colour is left in his pale skin seems to leech away.

Time slows, and as a water drop falls endlessly from the end of his black locks toward the floor, the Rynnish sorcerer’s maelstrom eyes find focus in the pasty flesh of Gleiner’s face. Sightless, Dark shivers with fear, or maybe ecstasy, as the flesh before him melts like wax in flame, puddling on the floor in the same manner as the putrid, watery corpses outside. The skeleton blackens, bursting into flame, before the ash blows into a swirling cloud, driven by an unfelt wind.

With an unnerving laugh, Dark breaks eye contact with Gleiner, and walks to stand in the doorway looking out into the night, muttering incoherently under his breath.

OoC: Intimidate (+8) vs. Gleiner.

 

[KaintheSeeker]

Tyra

Fat lot of good ye are ye ole rat bag, The fire haired gunmage thinks to herself as she tears a portions of the scout's shirt to dress his wounds.

OOC: Taking her time to dress the wounds (Take 20) unless it's too dangerous to wait that long.