Closed [Guest ST] Dug Too Deep

"... and woke the nameless fear."

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While Sylira is by far the most civilized region of Mizahar, countless surprises and encounters await the traveler in its rural wilderness. Called the Wildlands, Syliran's wilderness is comprised of gradual rolling hills in the south that become deep wilderness in the north. Ruins abound throughout the wildlands, and only the well-marked roads are safe.

[Guest ST] Dug Too Deep

Postby Razkar on September 22nd, 2013, 11:40 pm

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61st Day of Fall
The Everstone Forest
15th Bell


"Blessed Rhysol, boy, do you ever shut the petch up?!"

"Hey, you know I'm right!"

"Jacen, can I press you for an opinion, here?"

"This is between the two of you, I'm not going near it..."

Lared muttered something a lot more blasphemous under his breath as their little procession ground on through the hills, Ravok falling from their horses' rears and becoming little more than a black smear on the shimmering lake surface. The middle-aged jeweler frowned as he looked back, scolding internally.

Smear, is it? A fine way to think of Rhysol's citadel... but, 'tis the way of poetry...

"Look... all I'm saying, is this..."

Then he groaned anew as Darick started up again, portly young man (proudly sporting a black sash marking him out as a trainee for the Ebonstryfe, even out here, with fuck all but rabbits and bugs to gawp at it), leaned over his pony's head and whispered to his friends.

"Well, I know plenty of lads, with-"

"-with the Stryfe!"

Darick bristled indignantly as a chorus of voices warily parroted his oft-repeated line about "his lads" (despite the fact he'd only known them two weeks), followed by chuckles and rolled eyes. Only Mathias, white-bearded and dome-headed, refused to; but a ghost of a smile stayed on his face, and his nose in the book he was reading.

"Yes, and they're good lads, too! They would have come out here for half what these... sellswords, are costing us!"

That word came out with a spit, liek it was a curse, or a monster that could be conjured if its name was uttered too loudly. Jacen - always the watcher, rarely the speaker - looked over his shoulder at the four horsemen behind them... then at the four leading the way. These men (and one woman, he remembered) didn't dress like adventurers, cave-divers or tradesman out for a day in the Wilds with their stiff outdoor wear and rarely-used tools.

Leather armor, on most, worn but hardened. Blades, bows, axes, maces... with faces just as hard and impartial. Jacen reflected that this slew of hired blades would have taken money to kill his friends and he as much as escort them to the Everstone Forest. Mercenaries were, after all, ultimately driven by mizas, and nothing else. Four of them - Stryfe washouts, by the look of them - looked of that sort, rat-like eyes and shifty movements... but the others...

A half-breed, which Jacen instinctively recoiled from. Drykas and Human, apparently, and while he knew that was no fault of the sellsword... well... it spoke of weakness, didn't it? Two others were polar opposites: one a fresh-faced boy with a mop of ragged straw-like hair, the other a mountain of muscle who looked almost comical on his pony, so he chose to ride a horse, instead. And the last...

Myrian. Smoother and more... refined, perhaps, than many of her ilk, but Jacen remembered that a diamond was still really just refined coal. She bore weapons and scars and when he'd sought out sellswords and was given a name to contact, this "Kaie" had taken his visit with little surprise. As if she'd been expecting him...

She offered a good price, and came recommended, but he was still a little nervous. Few deities were as capricious and bloodthirsty as Myri, and her Children.

"Well, not long to worry about it now," Mathias' dusty voice said among them, beaking the mood as he looked up, beard rustling lightly as he smiled, gesturing over the hilltop, "Looky there, boys..."

Thick fingers reached for the sky; almost desperate. Oh, that was good! Lared made a mental note to write that down; he'd been hired to do a few verses for the opening of a new shrine to Blessed Rhysol, and working in the natural beauty the Dark Father commanded would be an interesting angle. But as he approached... yes... more inspiration flowed...

Men, mules, ponies and horses were suddenly insignificant insects compared to the towering stone pillars clustered around. It looked to Mathias' old eyes like they were in some vast cornfield, with the stalks made of stone and rock, old and venerable, surviving storms, earthquakes and the wars of gods and mortals with equal ease and disinterest.

But majestic as they were, those formations were not what drew the party to this wild and empty place. Already four pairs of inquisitive, avaricious eyes were flickering and flashing over the ground, the foundations of the pillars, looking for caves, entrances, fissures, any kind of shadowy hole that could hint at a way under the ground.

Off the surface.

Into the deep.

Where the treasure lay.

For this was the Everstone Forest, and these lads were looking to get rich...

Have at it!OK, so there's the beginning of it! Feel free to include a flashback in your threads, detailing how you came to know of the job and meet with Kaie and/or the NPCs. No need to go into massive details, evidently Kaie has already thought of this and will make it easy for you.
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Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
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[Guest ST] Dug Too Deep

Postby Kaie on September 23rd, 2013, 2:48 am

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Sellswords, mercenaries, and hired killers. There were so many titles for the new trade she was boasting then, and one that quite frankly was a new experience as well. Yet all in all as she looked around, this time was not nearly the same as the last. Ahead of her did not travel one of her own kin. There was no child of Myri barking out the orders and leading her into battle. Razkar was not present to provide a buffer between Kaie and the barbarians she did business with this time around. She could see no sure fire confidant among her peers either. All the faces were unfamiliar, unproven soldiers for hire. And thus far, the Myrian woman decided she could trust none of them.

Only days ago had she arrived just outside the city limits of Ravok, the City of Rhysol. Frankly it was like nothing she'd ever seen before. Propped on a lake and cloaked in the ominous black of the Chaos God's followers, it was quite an eccentric sight for the savage woman indeed. Never was she so foolish to enter though. Instead she followed the instructions handwritten by her mysterious employer, Remis. Was he trustworthy? Probably not. But the man had coin and that was what mattered. So she did as he asked. Upon dismounting at an obscure yet well kept stable, she was received promptly by the workers there. Kaie was treated without much hostility (to her surprise) once she stated her business. The horse was taken to be groomed and she was escorted to a proper resting place. The next morning she met the infamous Remis, a man of short, cropped red hair and a thin mustache turned up on the ends to match. A businessman nonetheless who made good on his offer. After a brief meeting, their contract was renewed and he made good on his promises. The first being further profit opportunities.

Kaie had arrived at the specified rendezvous point. She arrived to meet a gathering of explorers, most of whom she'd be protecting, and a handful of sellswords to align herself with. To her dismay, none were of Myrian heritage for starters. On top of that she found some of Rhysol's minions in her midst. Although this was business and there was money to be made by those involved in the mission's success, Kaie knew the reputation a God of Chaos could have. The Black Sun and its ray of Ebonstryfe certainly would follow his example.

As expected they gaped at her. Their eyes grew wide just at the sight of the woman, standing there all but bare in her loincloth and single buttoned leather vest. Accessorized only by the bow and quiver on her back and the spear held loosely in her hand. All other potential weapons were hidden under the brown cloak she donned around her shoulders. A single bronzed hand removed the hood that obscured her face, revealing a waterfall of loose hanging brown hair. Muddy brown eyes were dark. Aggressive and intense all at once. And was that a bit of amber fire that flared in her irises for but a moment when she passed through the sunlight? Her exterior was solid. A shelled aura of hostility shrouded her toned body like a second skin. If there was any doubts to her focus on her task or her understanding of the business, they were shut down now. But that was just the trick. Kaie was hardly a seasoned veteran in the trade. What she did understand was the importance of acting like she was. Sometimes playing up the stereotype was the best thing to do.

"You must be the Myrian. Kay is it?" A man asked her from the group, quirking an aged brow in her direction.


"Kaie, actually but close enough. Remis sent me," The Myrian replied with an objective tone and a blank expression to match. She allowed her eyes to roam the crew once more, seeing exactly what she was protecting. The nature of the people present. One might've even wondered why she hardly seemed nervous at the fact there wasn't another of her gender present. Such would clearly be ignorant to the nature of her heritage, too.

"Aye. I know who sent you. He dropped that big, black beauty off for ya this mornin'. Said ya earned it. We'll see if he was right," The man said passively, vocally seeming to brush her off at the same time he gestured to one of the other men. Kaie's eyes flickered to the black beast of a horse being led her way. They dilated in surprise and a bit of confusion. After all she'd traveled so far to get that petching "prized" mount all the way up here. The fact Remis sent it straight back, all groomed and saddled to go, casted mixed feeling in the woman. Emotions she could not yet name. Instead she took the reigns of her old friend, and led it toward the three of the others she'd be working with that were already present. A chiseled, tan man of impressive physique that resembled a mountain of pure muscle. Then came the olive skinned man with one eye far blacker than the other with black hair, and a half grin upon his face. Finally was a guy not much older than Kaie. Straw blonde hair, long and messy atop his head. Lean with bright green eyes. From the start, Kaie had no idea what to expect.

Now she was atop her black steed again. The hoofed giant parading beside her appointed comrades, their own horses stepping close and in sync with hers. For most of the short ride they had been oddly silent. A blessing and a curse in her eyes. For though as a Child of Myri she had been raised to see the infidels as inferior, she had also been stuck in their lands for several years now. Plus socializing (which she had an unhealthy amount of while traveling with her not-so-pleasant companion Jervis) was never completely unwelcome. In addition, she already decided she might very well associate more with her fellows in arms rather than listen to the shyke the men ahead of them were spewing. So much talk about Ebonstryfe and the Black Sun. It was enough to make her stomach unsettled. She could practically feel the idiocy radiating off one lad in particular. Nonetheless she rode. Most of the time hoping her practically bare ass wouldn't be punished for the journey. She really should've learned to ride the petching animal sooner...


"So. Any of you know where this damned Everstone Forest is?" Kaie offered to break the silence, staring ahead all the way. She knew how the humans saw their women and she was determined to spell out just how different Myrian women compared. Getting her mind off the unsettling bumpy ride wasn't such a bad idea either.

OOC:Great start! So I apologize for the length. Hope no one minds I took the liberty to post first. I figured Razkar had a point I should somehow provide a back story to work with, and I hope this one sufficed. I tried to leave it vague for you all to fill in whatever personal stories anyone had for their characters. Anyhow, let's begin! :)
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[Guest ST] Dug Too Deep

Postby Faval on September 25th, 2013, 9:27 pm

It had been a long, long time since Faval had gotten any interesting work. He had left Zeltiva little over a year ago for that exact reason and fate or the gods or whatever divine being the people of this city prayed to did not care all that much for him it would seem. Ravok was a very, very different place than Zeltiva, disturbingly so to be perfectly honest. Where Zeltiva was progressive, intellectual and dare Faval say, serene, Ravok was the polar opposite. This place was destitute, vicious, volatile and downright distressing on more than one occasion. Unfortunately, Faval's only skills tended to involve murder and as such, his employ as a mercenary fit in quite well in this place. The young man felt the soft sigh escape him as he vacantly gazed out in to The Pit, which was handily the thing he understood the least about this place. While he could not deny a sort of cathartic feel that violence gave, the concept of a blood sport was lost on him. Why people enjoyed this kind of activity he would not and probably could not ever understand. He supposed the amoral among the populace, which in Ravok meant the majority of the aforementioned populace, cared less when the people dying were slaves.

Faval stood from his seat and walked away from the ring as a clear victor was shown bludgeoning what remained of his opponent's head in to the dirt. The boy hated it here and it shouted at every moral fiber he had in his possession, but those moral fibers tended to shut up when faced with hunger and the fact remained that people were more than willing to pay for all the violence they loved to sow upon each other and even further still, cementing the unknowing powers that be's genuine distaste for the young Faval, the best place to find that kind of work was here, in this den of inequity. It did not take long either. Someone was already there, advertising the need for hardened killers to play bodyguard for an expedition. It didn't really sound like anything Faval hadn't dealt with before and it would hopefully mean getting out of Ravok for awhile. Seamlessly, Faval wove into the crowd the man had gathered as they left the area, off toward the assembly area for the hired help on this expedition and, hopefully, toward money to eat on for awhile.

When he arrived, he was asked to show a demonstration of his combat abilities. Knowing that he specialized in the bow, they had led him to a wooded clearing with targets painted on a myriad of trees and gave him the simple instruction to demonstrate. He wasn’t sure if he had a time limit, or any restrictions imposed, or even if they wanted him to hit all of the targets, but if there was one thing Faval excelled at, it was showboating. There was a lot that could go wrong to cause an arrow to miss. Slight fluctuations in the wind, slight fluctuations in the string, slight fluctuations in the shooter’s concentration, all could turn a clean shot to a hamstring in to a minor annoyance to a heavily armored foe or a clean shot to the heart in to an aimless piece of wood. Very, very many things could go wrong while shooting an arrow, especially with a weapon as cumbersome as a longbow. Consequently, Faval was had to work hard at overcoming those minute annoyances that could completely throw the accuracy of a shot out of balance. The most common offenders were an angry person running at you with a sharp object. A large, muscular, smelly man with a sword always managed to make the shooter clutch his bow a little tighter as he was sprinting, angry and grunting like a pig, straight toward you to skewer you like a piece of meat.

Faval situated himself quite snugly in a small clearing that they had dragged him to. Exhaling deeply, Faval unslung the bow from his shoulder and retrieved an arrow from the quiver strapped to his back as he positioned his legs shoulder width apart and perpendicular to the surface of a nearby tree. Tilting the bow downward, the boy nocked the arrow before slowly pulling the feathered shaft back. Slowly and in one fluid motion, Faval lifted the bow as he was drawing, pulling it back, aiming it at the ground and then behind him all while slowly pulling on the bowstring, rotating it in orbit around a central point. By the time Faval had pulled the weapon back to that central point, his cheek, the arrow head was pointed straight for the back of a yet to be marred tree. Looking down the shaft of the arrow at his target, after waiting a few moments for his breathing to steady, Faval released the dangerous projectile and caused it to hurtle through the air at dangerous speeds. The sound of the weapon crashing in to the tree reverberated through the small little tree ridden shooting gallery, the sudden impact scattering the birds that had made it their home.

Faval was not yet finished. Using the fluid footwork he had gained from his rigorous forays in to the martial arts. The boy took a wide step forward before turning his foot inward. Using the resistance of the ground, Faval dragged himself in a wide arching movement, from a practical standpoint used to evade an incoming projectile…or the aforementioned smelly ogre with a metal stick before again positioning his legs shoulder length apart. As he did this, the boy retrieved from his quiver and attempted to nock his next arrow and fire it at a different tree. He had managed to ready the shot and his aim was true, the arrow smacked in to the tree with a satisfying thud. He was not intending to stop there however. Faval repeated the process, pivoting and dragging all while simultaneously retrieving, nocking, positioning for, and firing the arrow at the next tree in the sequence, striking each target in turn as he weaved through the trees, which honestly wasn’t that unimpressive a feat for such a cumbersome weapon. Longbows in general generally promoted a situated roost from which to shoot from and were generally too large and unwieldy to be used in this way. As Faval pierced the spot he was actually aiming for on the eighteenth shot, the boy’s feet ground to a halt. Two arrows presently remained in the quiver as Faval let out an exasperated sigh. He had plenty more at home, even if he managed to lose these, but they were still stupidly expensive things. Letting his bow drop to his side, Faval set off in to the surrounding area to collect his arrows, and probably start the whole process again if it was required. It wasn’t, he had earned the job.

Two days would elapse since Faval had been given the job and the people who had come with Faval from The Pit had all either been vetted out or had left due to lack of interest in playing bodyguard to a bunch of snooty rich people, not enough blood he supposed. A concern did rise rather quickly however once the details of their expedition were received and Faval was informed that he would have to acquire a mount of the journey. This presented multiple problems for the boy, as he did not have much in the way of money or in experience with equestrian purchases. This led them to the present day, where Faval was forced to watch as a half naked woman, something he had also noticed as any man with functioning genitalia tends to, gave her name and had a glorious ebony horse led toward her. After watching an admiring the exchange, every facet of it, his eyes slowly trailed down to the mount he would be spending the trip on. Faval wasn’t even sure it was a horse he bought at this point. The thing was smaller than its counterparts, smelled like it rolled around in its own droppings, was cross eyed, and Faval was relatively certain there was some sort of fungus growing behind its ears.

“You, boy, name.”

If Faval wasn’t so well practiced being considered a second-class citizen, he might have been offended at the woman’s warm reception and her horse looking like an actual horse being so quickly transitioned in to a gruff command. While he didn’t have anything he especially wanted to hide, Faval had learned rather early in life, and further had the lesson reinforced in Ravok, that deception, even meaningless deception, was a useful tool and for the time being, these people did not need to know what his name was. It wasn’t pertinent to his ability to keep watch over and the aforementioned snooty rich people, nor his capacity to use his bow. Faval slung the longbow over his shoulder and gave a small little boy before excitedly giving off the first name that came to his mind.

“I’m Pierre Cuzmibladdersemptee, sir.”

Whether the man didn’t get the joke, genuinely thought that was anyone’s name ever, or simply was a humorless, dour individual, the result was the same. The man gave an annoyed growl, like a disgruntled professor taking role, before moving on with whatever else he needed to take care of. The worked out perfectly well for Faval as he could spend his time figuring out how to make his cross-eyed horse move again. Nothing eventful would happen for awhile after that point, the four of them pulling up the rear rode in silence and Faval spent the majority of the time listening to the people who were determined to seem more and more petty an annoying with each passing moment. He had taken the opportunity to steal a few glances at the three companions he would have for this expedition and he wasn’t sure if he was enthused or not by the results. He had already gotten a decent enough look at the woman, Kaie they called her, earlier and while he certainly wasn’t above taking more looks, he was rather intent on staying focused. He wasn’t all that excited to die out here because he was more fixated on a more liberal style of dress. The second was a giant of a man, not really unique in Faval’s line of work but not necessarily less impressive and the more Faval glanced at him, the more he was reminded of the aforementioned ogre with a pointy stick. The third was, well, odd. At a cursory glance, he seemed normal, probably closer to Faval’s level of normalcy than the other two, until he looked at his face. Faval knew no reason for the heterochromia he was witnessing and it provoked a severe amount of curiosity. He would probably find an incredibly inappropriate time to ask about it later.

Before he could further deliberate on when that incredibly inappropriate time should be, their happy silence was broken by Kaie. Her words were, well, amusing. Not in a condescending way, to be clear, but amusing all the same. He wasn’t accustomed to hearing a female voice speaking with such clear, direct, and vulgar tones. It was fun.

“I don’t know, I’m not really from around here, with a name like Everstone Forest though I imagine we’ll know it when we s…”

And they would. It did not take much in this world to put one’s relevance in to perspective, but Faval was again readily humbled at the sight. As the party ahead of them quickly pressed in to the bulk of the Everstone Forest, Faval slowly meandered in after them, his face full of childish wonder as he looked up at the stones. After he caught up to the group before him, the boy hopped down off his “horse” and watched as the people he was meant to be protecting scurried their eyes over every nook, cranny, corner, crevice, or synonym for those words that they could see from their position. Maybe this would be more fun than he thought.

OOCI figured it was alright to use the NPC, if it's not let me know and I'll edit.
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[Guest ST] Dug Too Deep

Postby Crypt on September 29th, 2013, 3:46 pm

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OOC :
I was waiting for Senghor to make his post, but he didn't. So here's mine first. So the posting order is as follows:

Kaie
Faval
Crypt
Senghor

And Razzie can post after us. Best not have any double-posting (i.e. posting twice before Raz's posted again), though if it is necessary, then do so. Hope we all have fun!



Observation. The mark of an cautious person.

His companions were not quite interesting - compared to what he'd seen in the past. The Ebonstryfe rookie - Darick - was loud. Annoying. A tad fat, but with exercise he would rid himself of the excess, unnecessary body fat. And apparently too idiotic to recognise that he'd been repeating the same few lines about how his Ebonstryfe comrades would be better than the mercenaries their employer had hired. Perhaps it was all an act; after all, there existed cunning people in Mizahar. But he had not killed anyone before. He did not smell of it; even if it were just one soul he sent to Lhex, Crypt would have noticed it.

Jacen was much more to his taste than the loudmouth. He rarely spoke, choosing to watch. And he had killed before. Lared was perhaps a dreamer, always looking into the distance, gazing at aesthetically-pleasing sights and even mumbling snatches of poetry at times. But his purpose here was uncertain, other than being a bard of sorts. Crypt smiled at that thought; it was almost like the stories he had been told by his uncle years ago in Endrykas.

Crypt turned his attention to the other seven mercenaries, activating his mage-sight with a blink of the eye. It was becoming a habit of his, examining everyone around him every now and then. He liked it. He was slowly becoming more aware of his surroundings. The Drykas surmised that one day, he would be able to obtain localised omniscience - at least for anything mortal in nature. Coupling that with his own skills in magic then, it would not be an unreasonable assumption to say that he would be near-invincible then. He did not need to look at the auras around him to read them, and so he continued to ride the horse, eyes facing forward.

He glanced over the four that appeared to be of one group, wearing identical, slightly-used clothes. Their auras did not speak of anything special; all held the same dullness, albeit with shades of cobalt and copper, but they had killed. Only once or twice, Crypt guessed. Each carried several weapons, the most common being longswords. Two carried crossbows and a respectable amount of bolts. They did not appear to use any magical discipline, nor did they have any enchanted items on their bodies. Their auras did not indicate any magic usage, but they did speak to Crypt of their physical prowess - above average for a normal person - and their unwashed bodies.

The other three were more interesting. The bodybuilder, going by the name of Senghor, held taints of something. His aura was rather vigorous, and it belied his impressive physique and strength. Crypt focused more on him, increasing the rate of information gain. Time passed, and he observed a slight complexification in the aura. One that he was slightly familiar with.

I see. His aura speaks of an input into his system, modifying his Djed. A... representation of possibility, what he could become. But it is severely limited, and I suspect he is not very proficient with the art. As I am. Morphing. There is nothing else about him.

Pierre was intriguing. A young boy, barely an adult. His aura was not quite developed, and it was not affected by any magic. There was always a hint of something Crypt used to discover if the person whose aura he was examining was a magic user, but the boy did not have it. What he did have, though, was what appeared to be strong arms. His aura was denser around his upper limbs, signifying a concentration of strength around that area. He was not as well-developed for the other parts of his body.

This boy would do fine for long-distance support, if nothing else. His only weapon is a longbow though... And close-distance combat would appear to be something that is not his forte.

And the last. Kaie.

Myrian. Ah, what tales have been spun of their blood-drenched deeds. She is a killer, perhaps one of the best in this merry little band. She is rather attractive - an exotic beauty, and her body is nothing to sneer at. Oh? What's this?

Crypt frowned. He disliked it when reading auras gave him bits and pieces of irrelevant information. It had gotten slightly better, but it was still irritating.

Her aura is denser than most of the others, except Senghor. She has an excellent body, and it would be firm to the touch. But I didn't need to know that. Enough of that.

His eyes narrowed fractionally, relaxing after a while.

Nope, no magic either. Looks like this will be a relaxing, down-to-earth treasure hunt. Excellent! I've been sparring with magic users for quite a while, and this should give me a nice rest. Assuming no monsters pop out of the ground and attack me.

He increased the range of his Auristics, aiming to determine the general mood of the party - it was one of slight optimism, interspersed with irritation at the idiot Ebonstryfe member.

He ceased the flow of Djed, aiming to conserve it for later. There was a dryness in his eyes, perhaps even a tinge of pain in his head, but otherwise no other signs that would indicate overgiving. Crypt turned his attention to the path ahead, thinking about the set of circumstances that had led to him accompanying the others on this trip.

It was quite a coincidence - Crypt had been running errands for one of the Nitrozian family members, and he had chanced upon a conversation his current employer was having with the four nondescript mercenaries. He had finished his current task, and indicated that he would be absent for as long as this trip took. It wasn't as if he was essential to the Nitrozians - they were rich, and they had many more eager men and women to guard them.

The test itself was rather simple. A straight spar with blunted weapons. Crypt had played along for a while, barely holding his own against the more experienced man before he decided that he would have nearly no chance of winning. A simple illusion was cast, removing his image from his opponent's eyes. A few steps, an unveiling, and he was standing behind the man, sword at the throat.

Crypt blinked a few times as the female Myrian spoke. Her voice was... loud to his ears.

Faval made a reply. Crypt opted not to answer. It was much better to simply enjoy the slight rocking motion he had came to connect with riding a horse; the bay he was riding was a nice and quiet stallion, rather unlike many others. He was relatively well-behaved, but he was more spirited when he was brought to Crypt to serve as his steed. A few whispered words of Pavi, the language of the Drykas, had served to sooth him, and Crypt's gentle handling soon won him over. He had been taught to treat horses well, and he would not let go of that virtue, even if he had not been in Endrykas for many years.

Last edited by Crypt on October 7th, 2013, 1:31 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Done by the one and only Assilsa Curare!

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NOTE: I will be on holiday from the 9th to the 25th, so don't expect me to post anything! Apologies.
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[Guest ST] Dug Too Deep

Postby Senghor Vilhjalmr on September 29th, 2013, 9:03 pm

With a firm grip upon the wearing reigns that held the silvery-coal furred horse he was given to ride, Senghor thought little of the past days, of course it was thanks to them that he could be given work to keep kicking another day...

A methodical wind seemed to lace itself around the very presence of the four mercenaries at the back of the entire 'clique', at ease it seemed that Senghor was the only one of them who picked it up, rustling leaves soon gave it away shortly if one was attentive.

Senghor's stern gaze never slipped from looking ahead as he kept himself entangled within his thoughts, complex as they were, they were still his own to keep. Yet it didn't mean he'd remain that way with the duration of their entire expedition, silent and thought drenched.

His steed, a horse that seemed just for him was very strong, very stubborn as it kept its trudge paced with that of the entire pack behind. Before they'd even began there little 'trip' it seemed he and the mount struggled with one another only for it to give in when it saw that the human before it won't even take any of its nonsensical quarrels, Senghor had grown tired of horses such as that one and decided that the very horse would be the last to give him crap, intimidation works best - he told himself.

The orchestral song composed by their horses filled the air since they left Ravok and when they dissipated from its ever lasting dark penetrating gaze, did than Senghor begin to let his thoughts wonder, from battle to women they seemed to dance swirl in it conscious state.

Amongst his thoughts it'd seemed that he remembered how he'd gotten to where he currently was and unlike the others, how he attained the job was how he was usually got all his others, through broken bones and blooded knuckles, he'd heard a bunch of dockworkers spattering how they detested their work and that an expedition was being set, this obviously perked his interest so he researched on it.

After some time he finally got word on who to talk and did just that, yet it'd seemed that another had already reached them before him, Jacen obviously one to find the situation a tad hilarious sought to see who was worthy for it and suggested they spar for the job. Senghor could remember the large fellow who he was to spar against, he wore more scars than he did clothing and had more muscles than brains.

It came as no surprise that the burly man would charge with the obvious howl and roar to intimidate the young man into stepping down, yet Seng didn't even flinch as cracked his right hand's knuckles and locked his jab square in the man's jaw, the world must have went black for him as everyone there watched with jaws unhinged as the brute recoiled in a knockout.

After that mild spectacle the only living with the Vilhjalmr lineage was soon hired with only his name known and nothing else he didn't divulge into sharing, some time later he met with those he'd work alongside and he kept his eyes open enough to pick up on the other two males, a boy and a mixed human, Drykas from what he observed.

Soon after was it that his primal side was invoked as the child of the myrians, a savage woman from the way she adorned herself. He could hear his subconscious cackle, it was enjoying the very thought of Senghor keeping himself as restrained as he could that made it mock the young warrior.

Seng only recollected what he could on his backward trio, himself excluded. From what he'd observed he was clearly the only one with proper knowledge on the working of the longsword as he was the only person in the back who had it equipped, and besides the myrian it was probable that close combat would be an issue for everyone else if they were attacked.

Besides that, his attention was now onto the very beings themselves. It'd seemed that the boy, Pierre was just that, a boy, yet not to judge him before his time, the Vilhjalmr would keep his gaze lazily lingered on him...

The Drykas, Crypt was different, his stature was different from the others and so was the energy he seemed to ferment, it was somewhat entanglement and analytical, Seng wasn't sure and this brought on a sense of intrigue, he didn't know how well the man would fair for he was yet to fully see but Senghor would never let his eyes trail away from him, he was one to truly look out for.

An finally, the Myrian, Kaie, beautiful and strong, she could indeed fair well in battle...
'An other things...' chimed his subconscious with a suggestive tone, the brought on a scowl from the man as he tugged too firmly on the reigns of his horse, he murmured low and unheard words of scorn at his subconscious which only seemed to grimly cackle.

Ever so occupied within his thoughts Senghor didn't even hear the two sellswords him exchange words, it didn't even bother him due to him lacking the ability to care. All he was occupied with was Everstone and what treasures it held, a thought soon lingered about his mind momentarily as it fell towards his parents, his father mostly, a ghostly nod escaped him as he now knew that this was what his father was preparing him for, all those years of vigorously breaking, bleeding and begging to stop with the more critical training regimes.

'It was all for this, things such as these' he thought to himself as he raised his head high enough to meet what hours on a horse were worth...
From the soil we came, From the soil we conquered,
My past is dead, my path dark, my rage is the herald of my blade.
Kudos goes to Alea for help with my CS.

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[Guest ST] Dug Too Deep

Postby Razkar on October 4th, 2013, 2:11 am

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"Right, lets get to it, then!"

Mathias had been hoping the more level-headed Jacen and Lared would restrain their younger, more foolish friend, but alas, their self-control also seemed in short supply. He half-smiled, half-grimaced over the top of his book like an indulgent father, watching the three men dismount with sloppy haste and start pointing, questioning, a dozen directions, a fortune in every cave and crevice-

"Lads? Lads?" Eventually, without him having to raise his voices too much, the other turned to him, and the white-haired elder jerked his eyes subtly towards the Myrian. "We hired this lot for a reason, didn't we?"

"Oh... right."

The four treasure hunters paused with their hands outstretched or grasping for odd-looking harnesses and equipment, facing instead the eight-strong bodyguard they had rode with. Jacen's eyes flickered to Mathias, but the old man just slid silently from his horse and began a slow, methodical circuit of the particular little valley they were in, making little noises here and there, comparing his notes to the loose rock and cracks within it.

So. Up to me, then...

"Myrian," he said without further ado, not knowing or really caring what her title or name was. She was being paid to protect them, and paid in advance, so she would just do as she was told, as far as he was concerned, "What arrangements would you like to make? Will you be coming down with us? We hired you because of the risk of bandits, and-"

"-and that won't happen, just stories-"

"Bollocks, Darrick, our Liam's Nancy knew one of the boys that got killed. Him and his mates, chopped up like dog food-"

"Stryfe would have seen to them, believe me, just rumors-"

"As I was saying," Jacen cut in again (or, rather, reclaimed) with an edge to his voice, stilling his comrades bickering for just one petching minute, "There is the risk. Rumors of bandits taking refuge here from the Ebonstryfe, preying on treasure hunters and explorers like us."

The blond, middle-aged man looked around the tall, pale stones and his limited imagination didn't see the hordes of dark and cutthroat figures one would expect. They weren't there, after all... but that secret core of fear was still whispering in his ear, telling him that like Blessed Rhysol, absence in sight did not mean absence of presence...

"I suppose you'll be protecting the surface... but you would know better. We'll be going down once Mathias divines us a decent hole. A few of you will come with us, just in case."

Derrick snorted again, already fitting his ample waistline into a rappel harness. "Yeah, for whatever reason that-"

"Don't be scornful, boy," Mathias muttered darkly without looking up from his yellowed pages, "Old and foul things in the dark places of the world. You'll be grateful for a few sharp swords and men who know how to use them... if only for it to have something to eat other than you..."

OOCOK, so, I take it Kaie will start first, since she's the de facto leader and the one being addressed. You can go back and forth for a little bit if you want, setting up a perimeter, talking with the clients, each other, the NPCs sellswords, whatever... just stay in that area and when you're ready, I shall swoop!
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My Words | Your Words | Myrian | Fratavan | My Thoughts
Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
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[Guest ST] Dug Too Deep

Postby Kaie on October 5th, 2013, 6:20 pm

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Ah, so her test had given her the results she wanted. Just like she thought, the younger and most inexperienced (she thought) out of the group responded to her first. He was lively and friendly. At least he seemed like he'd be a barbarian she wouldn't mind working with. He sure wasn't such an ax wound as the babbling guy up ahead who wouldn't shut up about the Black Sun. Goddess, if there was a monster lurking in this Everstone Forest she might just feed it if only to have a peaceful, quiet ride back. The problem was she was being paid, and the more of the men she brought back alive, the better her reputation. Naturally, she could only assume her comrades understood this same fact.

Yet now that she got the blonde man to speak first, she could see a thing or two about the others. Well, she could at least speculate. The two remaining that had caught her eye and kept their silence seemed a little introverted. At least for now. Of course it could be interpreted as just professional, too. Either way their silence spoke very different. The nature of it was so very contrasting and unique. The tanner of the two, it seemed, had a confidence that radiated from him just a bit. It wasn't overwhelming or invasive, but she had the feeling he had a larger personality than he was letting on. She could almost feel his gaze when he glanced at her once or twice. He was watching each of them, but none of their merry little band was as analytically inclined as the man with the blackened eye. He made her anxious. Like an ant being stared at under a magnifying class, though she believed his intentions weren't necessarily to burn her. Perhaps it was just his gaze that seemed to look straight through. Whatever it was seemed irrelevant then, and so she returned to the present situation. Nodding her at the blonde in agreement.

After some time of riding the voices of the men ahead became more prominent. They were louder and appeared more commanding. The procession halted almost in sync ahead of the sellswords. It was clear they had reached their destination. The three men dismounted from their horses without much grace, though Kaie's was no better. She was no flashy show-woman on the thing to begin with. Her movements were slow and deliberate, sliding her leg over the beast, holding onto the side of the saddle before dropping down. It was embarrassing to say the least. Kaie did try to play it off though.

Well...Whatever savage allure I had going for me to get this job just died painfully quick.

The woman clasped her hand around the reigns and led her horse forward toward the group, hoping to get a bit more information on what was going on. She quirked her brow at the treasure hunters with a combination of both confusion and interest. In their hands were strange pieces of equipment hugely unknown to her. All kinds of ropes, metals, and tools whose uses she could hardly guess. Obviously spelunking was a new idea to her. Fighting however? Not so much, and by the way they had all turned to eye the eight mercs, she wasn't the only one reminded of that fact.

Myrian. That was her. Muddy brown hues flashed quickly toward the source of the voice, the older man carrying the strange book. It was rather obvious they would remain on a very general basis. He was the explorer and she was the hired sword. Nothing more or less. In addition to that she was Myrian, known by stereotype for proficiency in the field she was hired. Though she wasn't nearly as gifted at the moment as her counterparts, it was necessary for her to appear just so. To be the bloodthirsty, murderous protector to get them in and out safely, and then get on her merry way with as many heads as she wanted.

Kaie stared at the man as he spoke. Occasionally she would nod in understanding at the explanation for her presence in the first place. It was just when she was thinking about the best plan of action one of the others chimed in. Apparently there had been some incidents in the area? Fair enough. Even more of a reason to keep her guard up and convince her fellow sellswords to do the same.

Say "Stryfe" one more time and I'll wring your little neck.

Finally, back to the important bit. It appeared she wasn't the only one irritated by the needless bickering, and she wasn't even the one who was forced to listen to all of it. Still she could feel the anxiousness of these men and their hidden fear of uncertainty. If anything did show up she was sure they'd be shaking in their little Ravokian boots. All she could ask was that Kaie found whatever it was before it found them. If the bandits stupid enough to lurk outside Syliras were anything like the ones out here, it would be an easy fight. Right?


"Depends on the nature of your expedition. Unless you think it'll be large and extensive enough for something to be down there, we'll be fine guarding the entrance. Otherwise we'll follow you down if you see it fit," She said evenly after a moment of deliberation. Either way there'd be pros and cons for any decision. Too many on the surface and whatever could dwell in that void of a cave would have an easy snack. Not enough on top and a hidden enemy could corner them, leaving them trapped. Kaie hated dividing numbers, but it seemed their best bet to cover and protect the most ground. But what were the strengths and weaknesses of those around her?

"If you'd prefer it, we could split into two teams. One to protect the horses and supplies, the other to watch your backs. Best not to leave any coverage lopsided," Kaie reasoned with a shrug, twisting her spear in her grasp as she visualized her own tactics. Her eyes settled on the man's gauging his reaction before adding on to her proposition.

"I'll speak with the rest and find out what our strengths are to arrange the groups. Shouldn't take long. Let us know when you're ready," The Myrian said before turning toward her comrades behind her. Leading her horse with her, hardly knowing what to do with the thing yet, she paced toward the group. Her expression was objective and dark. Intense and professional. She knew how barbarians viewed their woman. Dependent, fragile, and weak. That was not the ways of the Myrians, and if she was going to be taken seriously, she needed to silently make that clear. She wasn't there to play around. Kaie was there for gold and she expected the rest were as well. That didn't mean it was a reason for them to blow each other off and fight independently. Somehow, there needed to be unity. The groups needed to be exactly even.

"Alright. It looks like we'll be needing to split into two teams. One to protect the surface and another for the guys in the cave. Let's try to keep this even," Kaie addressed them all casually, looking over each of them carefully. She knew to establish a good perimeter, they needed a mix of range. Both groups needed at least one archer. She had no doubt most of these guys were perfectly capable of beating anyone into a pulp with their fists, so that wasn't a problem. She was shyke with her own longbow honestly, and would be just fine with the whole "smashing heads with her bare fists" approach. That wasn't always efficient, though.

"We'll need someone good with the bow in both groups. After that, unless someone has any other unique abilities, we can just split up however. Let's keep it locked down up top. When those four up there are ready, anyone heading down in the caves with me will head out," Kaie continued surely, throwing some ideas out there that were pretty basic. Hopefully all would go smoothly. Though she had been the one addressed, Kaie considered them all on the same playing field regardless. Something in her told her she wasn't the only capable leader in the group. With luck, she wouldn't be the only one with good ideas to be voiced. Maybe one would surprise her.

OOC:Okay, so I tried to leave the ending pretty open. Feel free to split up into whatever group you'd like (all in one or sporadic), unless Razkar wishes us to all go one way. Voice any opinions, ideas, and propositions as you see fit. A little back and forth between NPC sellswords and employers, as Raz said, is fine. Go! :)
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[Guest ST] Dug Too Deep

Postby Crypt on October 7th, 2013, 2:23 pm

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Crypt grimaced as the rather piercing voice of the annoying youth disturbed his contemplations. Normally he would be cracking jokes - attempting to crack jokes - and playing with his illusions, but the horse reminded of him of Maras, his Strider. The smell, the feel of the hairs touching parts of his skin, the familiar sensation of gentle rocking as he rode the steed - all of those were drank in by Crypt. It had been too long since he had ridden a horse for more than a bell.

But the familiar sensations were never painful. He had accepted Maras' death, and he was rather certain the Strider would give him a well-deserved kick in the nether regions for dwelling on such matters, then whip him in the face with his tail as he tried not to scream like a little girl.

Come to think of it, Maras must have been a master at horse combat. Precise strikes and all that.

He cracked a grin. He was not a masochist, but he did enjoy those... bonding moments.

He patted his horse on the head, dismounting unhurridly. His hand reached into a pocket, and he pulled out an apple he had saved from the meal he had finished in the morning.

"Here you go, old boy. Don't eat too quickly, you won't like it."

Crypt moved back, observing the body and limbs of the horse with a keen eye. There had been nothing to indicate that the horse was injured in any fashion, but it was best to be cautious. He ignored the the rest of the conversation, only noting that Kaie was now in charge, and that there was a risk of bandits. Well, if there were, he could probably distract them. An bright flash of light tailored to affect them only, an illusion of high-pitched sound to distract them. It wouldn't cause any real damage, but it was enough.

He ran a hand over the horse's leg muscles, checking for any abnormalities. Once he was satisfied, he gently pushed away the steed's head, the horse being inquisitive and attempting to find out if Crypt had hidden any more apples. It was time for serious business... Although Crypt wouldn't be very serious. His experiences in Alvadas had taught him that seriousness was detrimental to his mental state.

"I do believe my abilities would lend me better to delving into the unknown depths. I have had... some experience with underground caverns, and I would rather be underground than above ground - a personal preference."

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Done by the one and only Assilsa Curare!

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NOTE: I will be on holiday from the 9th to the 25th, so don't expect me to post anything! Apologies.
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[Guest ST] Dug Too Deep

Postby Senghor Vilhjalmr on October 8th, 2013, 8:06 pm

As the steed he rode kept its dominant stride, with its grim eyes and ghastly trudge upon the land, it soon felt a tug at its reigns as the ebony skinned man pulled on them to halt it, its nose flared as it bucked and rocked momentarily before stopping. 'Everstone' thought Senghor as he watched (most) of the crew scatter about as their yearning inquisition touched everything their flesh could consummate with,
as soon as the oldest amongst them beget to dismount off his steed, it was only than did the young desert betrothed young man bring back his attention to himself.


Senghor's piercing gaze fell down onto the mane of the horse as it shook its head and he too simply his head as he ceremoniously got off the mammal he, his touch soon fell onto the thin strands of hair it wielded yet it was met with subtle resistance, the horse seemed to incline its head to the side stubbornly and kick back some dirt with its rear leg. "Stubborn..." whispered the mercenary as he removed his hand from the steed's coat and ran his thumb along the patterns of his palm, his gaze seemingly lost within their intricate design.

A tranquil gust of air seemed to wash over the body of the rugged warrior as he raised his head and looked up, his eyes drawn up as his nostrils took in the aroma that bathed the entire landscape, besides the dwelling stench of horse, sweat and moistened bark, when Senghor slowly dropped his head and let his eyes observe the world around him, there was nothing that hung in the air at that moment, yet he could not be sure, the earth was unpredictable and so he too must be as well.

His ears were taken aback by the feminine footsteps of Kaie approaching him and the other two in their little group of four hence he too moved closer and left the horse to brood just as he would have, Seng didn't bother to even listen to her conversation with the old man, what they'd spoke of didn't concern him for if it did, he knew he'd have spoken his mind by than.

Yet at that moment he was only focused on what the myrian had to say, an occasional nod slipped from him as he listened to what strategic method of going down into the caves she had, soon after his ears were filled by the words of the pale man beside him, which Senghor made out as either boosting or not much at all.

It seemed as if though from his observation, Seng began to mentally formulate a strategy worth trying, from both assumptions and basic knowledge of what he'd seen from their weaponry, soon after his thick, dark and heavy voice filled the crevices of the forest.

"The boy and yourself myrian can lead from the front whilst the two of us protect and guard from the back, as for the rest of these 'explorers', they will be situated between us." said the young warrior as he looked sternly as the myrian with his palm trailing along the strands of his growing stubble, Seng thought on this momentarily before he spoke about it, if two people led from the front and others guarded from the back, with one handling a long to medium range weapon whereas the other wielded a close range weapon than the two of each side could not only wield the same set of traits but also rely on the combatant wielding the long range weapon to provide an extra hand in they were attacked from the back or front, an they too would rely on those on the opposite side if the same set of circumstances were to happen.

A hum of thought seemed to dance within his mind as he kept his firm gaze upon the myrian woman....
From the soil we came, From the soil we conquered,
My past is dead, my path dark, my rage is the herald of my blade.
Kudos goes to Alea for help with my CS.

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[Guest ST] Dug Too Deep

Postby Faval on October 8th, 2013, 8:32 pm

As Kaie had stalked off to converse with their employers, Faval had located a comfortable spot on the ground, propping himself up against one of the giant stone monoliths as he idly watched the heterochromatic feed his horse. It was an interesting bond that took place between man and beast, or perhaps it was more general than that and simply a bond between the provider and the provided, but it was quite amusing to Faval to see that kind of bond the man had with his mount. His, on the other hand...Faval wasn’t even sure where the cross-eyed, parasite infested beast had wandered off to. Probably smacking its head off a rock, he’d have to find it later he supposed but for now he was glad to be rid of it. Grinning childishly to himself at the thought of his horse maiming itself...perhaps he fit better in with the Ravokian crowd than he thought, Faval reached down and picked up two small stones off the ground and rhythmically juggling them with the same hand that grabbed them, the young man’s eyes not breaking contact with each arcing stone.

The story didn’t change when Kaie returned either. Faval did not acknowledge that she was there, at least not before it was his turn to speak, as she layed out the current plan to their intrepid group of sellswords. Faval wasn’t sure he agreed with the plan, as he was pretty sure “Let’s split up” was the most popular example of famous last words at the Zeltivan college, but their employers seemed to trust the woman and the heterochromatic man didn’t question her directives so Faval did not really see a reason to challenge her leadership, at least until she tried to get him killed. He wasn’t fond of that. Before he got a chance to voice his opinion though, the fourth member of their group decided to speak up, patience was seemingly a lost virtue to most. Well, it was not yet lost to him however and it was made rather evident by the boy’s rock juggling extravaganza not missing a beat as Senghor spoke about how they should divvy up defending the group of explorers. Once he was finished, Faval capitalized on his chance to get a few words in.

“I guess I’ll be that guy...does this not stink to anyone else? For most of the journey, a bandit raid has been cited as our most pressing concern but while our lovely, lovely employers were bickering like children for the majority of the journey, they genuinely got antsy when we arrived and the prospect of going down there was no longer a far off worry. On top of that, if we were going to be hit by bandits, don’t you think it would have happened by now? We’re traveling with a decent amount of equipment while trying to move through this labyrinth of stone and the rather large gut trying to furiously escape from the tent that man is wearing as a shirt should tell anyone nearby that mobility isn’t our strength at the moment. If we were going to be hit by bandits, their opportune moment to strike was half a bell ago while we were still moving, there’s no reason for them to let us fortify a position. So if bandits were their biggest concern, why are they suddenly so much more concerned when we’re as safe from bandits as we’re ever going to be out here? Maybe it’s just me, but I’m not a big fan of how in the dark we’re being kept here.”

Faval’s eyes never left the rhythmic rotation of the rocks in his hand, each one rising and falling through the air with mechanical precision. The boy waited a few moments for his words to sink in and to enjoy his juggling act a little bit longer before he finally let the rocks fall in to his hands to rest. A soft sigh escaped him as he turned his attention to the people he was actually talking to, a slight look of exasperation on his face. His concerns and worries ultimately didn’t matter of course, he was being paid to be the snarky and bloated one’s shield and it wasn’t his job to worry about silly things like why or even what he was about to get eaten by.

“If we’re sending people down there, we need a secure escape route in case things go bad, so as much as I don’t want us to disobey every lesson urban legends have taught us about not splitting up, descending down there as a group and not securing a camp up here isn’t a good idea. If there really are bandits and we just luckily escaped their notice up until now, we don’t want to be running away from one threat into the jaws of another, figuratively or literally. More importantly, do we have any kind of layout for the cavern system or are we going in there completely blind?”
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