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(Scars and Friends) Fallon has called a meeting on the 80th to discuss recent occurrences within the Scars territory.

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[The Quay] Calling

Postby Shai on January 16th, 2015, 7:29 am

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Shai kept her peace as other spoke up. The spider could feel the unanswered question on the back of her neck. Something had precipitated this, more than the grafitti. One did not announce an impending war without overwhelming evidence. Fear and panic were killers as much as steel and oak. Her inspections lingered on Zandelia. How would the woman take a second gang clashing this way? Last time it had been Robern’s Daggerhands, and the winners had been the same.

The lithe larcenist couldn’t profess to having met all of the Scars present, and as more spoke up she realized how few she knew. Zandela, Bitzer and Ren were really the only she’d met in a significant degree. This war touches our home Chell.

The Irylid hummed in quiet vibrations against her skin, It does. It would be safer to pick up and leave, but then we are alone again. You are right that sometimes we are not enough alone.

So we’re in?

Affirmative. The familiar agreed.

Shai pushed off her perch and landed with a gentle tap of leather boots against the floor. “If its subtly you require…” She trailed off and met Zandelia’s gaze with careful nod. That was as close to allegiance as Shai ever ventured now, they had to take it or leave it.

As war was known for, things changed in an instnat. A hanging word, a crash, a yelp and the war commenced with a howl. Shai pulled the tie on her cloak and let it puddle in the corner before following the others out the door. Even were she a Scar she was not known for listening to authority figures so Bitzer’s ‘Stay put’ might as well have been a come hither. The thief did as she wanted and generally it benefited everyone but always herself.

She took in the scene quickly, noting no details only necessities. Men, Bitzer, Zandelia… they had it under control there. Then the spider’s gaze passed beyond the scene. “The Gate” she said mostly to herself before taking off. Running through slush and snow was by no means ideal but she didn’t take off her boots for added traction; it wasn’t so treacherous as that.

She gave the humans a wide berth, let them swing their swords and fists while the spider sprang the trap. The Quay was all but a young fortress which could as easily defend or entrap. Shai skidded to a stop through the slick off-grey mush and threw the mechanism to close the gate. The fighting was for the durable, instead the spider turned her thoughts to intelligence. What was there to glean from these foolish attackers who so readily played their hands?

Perhaps they hadn’t known the Scars were ignorant of their identity. Shai trusted them to leave one alive. Alive only so long as he had a song to sing. Think the humans will stomach the torture of their own?

It is war, they struck first. Besides he has information and if they intend to combat this enemy or even evade it, these Scars will need it. Chell replied, his confidence mirrored in the spider’s own thoughts.
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[The Quay] Calling

Postby Kaie on January 16th, 2015, 9:50 pm

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One by one voices rose from fellow Scars who gave their testimonies. There was the curious woman who had chosen to lounge along the window frame toward the sea. Her ashy skin, amethyst eyes, elongated limbs, and those long, clicking nails had brought the Myrian's hair on end. Symenestra? came the curious deduction in her head, another enemy that had long since been eradicated from Falyndar. Amber eyes shifted to each speaker, all but Uncle strange to her even as Lion barged through the door. The urgency in his gaze and the reassuring touch he offered the pale, blonde healer was nothing short of pure affection. Despite Uncle's deception, his explanation satisfied the Myrian in that it filled the gaps in his original story, and provided names for two of the three strangers in their midst. Besides, what did a name matter? They'd fought together, killed together. So long as his loyalty remained to mutual leaders, it bothered her very little what he called himself. It wasn't as if his alias was the first to shock her that season anyway.

Tensions remained high, and the Myrian found it most productive to keep her mouth shut and simply listen. Analyze the situation. It was frustrating to say the least, this unseen enemy as present but mythical as The Hound had been. Leaving messages, making threats, then disappearing into the wind like a ghost. Kaie could feel the itching deep within her muscles, the insistent tightening of her fists. So many variables. So much we don't know. It was true. Success would be a finicky task. They hadn't the numbers or the intelligence at the moment to combat this massing threat. Worse, they seemed to know just how to exploit their vulnerabilities. She had half a mind to shove her way out into the streets and start demanding answers at blade point.

The pausing in Fallon's speech was enough to momentarily tear the pugnacious savage from her musings. Their leader exited the room, alone much to the woman's disdain, leaving Zandelia to repossess the discussion of strategy. Another nod of affirmation when it came to scoping out the taverns for answers. Another angry bark from Orvin. Something feels wrong. That barking, the same sort that had saved her from the fatal cold of winter, turned quickly to a distressed yelp. She pushed off the wall and quietly strode toward the nearest window to peer out while plotting continued behind her. There came a knotting in her gut, a tightening in her chest she soon forgot when adrenaline loosed into her veins. Just beyond their meeting stood Fallon with tulwar in hand. One of the masked intruders had the white wolf by the scruff. In a tick he had drawn his blade across the throat of the frightened canine. And their leader had fallen to her knees.

A fierce growl ripped from her throat, teeth bared as her right hand tore the gladius free of its prison with a metallic hiss. Zandelia's call for blood echoed with Fallon's vengeful cry, and the Kaie was out the door with the others to set out on their vendetta. She followed up behind her one-eyed superior with her gladius before her, darting forward toward the masked bastards with a vicious slashing of her sword to deter them from falling upon the woman as she rescued Fallon from their initial attack. For the nearest she put a heel to his chest before she retreated back to fall in line with her comrades, not foolhardy to believe she'd stand a chance within their range alone. Blood leaked from a mean slice in her shoulder she'd failed to fend off. A soft breeze ruffled the blood-matted white fur of the slain beast. Fury only rose when she spied the Symenestra fleeing toward the gate of the Quay. Amber eyes shot back to the masked cowards.

Someone to punish. Kaie was rigid as a stone, firm as she willed herself to stay put. Discipline through upbringing that kept her from looking down at the pooling blood beneath Orvin. They would have never known you were there if not for that damned wolf. You would've died out there. Make them pay. And with Zandelia's words ending with violence and the battle ensuing, there was no hesitation. The chain was broken and she rushed forward with a shriek for blood. One of the masked enemies stepped forward to brace himself against her, jerking his sword at her middle. The bronze warrior pivoted outside the thrust and she punished it with the downward strike of her blade upon his. The short sword swung downward under the hit, and her gladius rebounded off the strike to jerk outward and into the base of his throat. Blood flooded down his flesh and over his light armor. A gurgling sound came from his mouth.


"You will all die like dogs this day," Kaie snarled down at him in her brutal native tongue. Wide eyes stared up at her before his body leaned forward and fell upon the courtyard ground. In the distance she heard the falling of the portcullis. The Symenestra. A sardonic grin slipped across her lips. Looks like we can catch them after all. Eyes on fire, the Myrian turned and brandished her weapon with praise for her goddess, and plunged wholly back into the fray.
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[The Quay] Calling

Postby Pulren Marsh on January 18th, 2015, 5:39 am

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It was both oddly surprising and satisfying to Pulren that no one particularly cared about his charade. Web had even found it amusing. No harsh comebacks, not even a batted eye. He was colored impressed, assuredly. Perhaps he was among allies and they were just glad to have his trident and his loyalty. Sure, he hoped for friendship someday, but other than S'Essy, none had particularly warmed up to him. It was a shame too, considering that he would be returning to Zeltiva, probably never seeing most of these people again. His head cold was enough distraction not to linger on such thoughts.

He could only listen as the heads of the group spoke of the nefarious shadow that was slowly creeping over the group's status in Sunberth, perhaps even over their very lives. Whispers had been whispers, signs observed. It would probably not be very long before some kind of action was taken, the guard thought to himself. Best to be prepared and be wary, to be proactive as Bitzer spoke of. Strange that she also was not Bitzer, though he didn't know what her name really was. Same with Web, though that one seemed to be a pretty obvious nickname. All of a sudden, the former seemed to catch some kind of movement or sound, departing to investigate. The dog's barking ceased and any guard knew what that meant. Brigands.

Whatever was being said from that point on by Web was dimming in response to the growing sense of urgency that Pulren could feel in his gut. It had never led him astray and it wouldn't now. Looking in the direction of the front room, he could see the flickers of flame that were usually never present, a sure sign of torches. When the commands for weapons and arms came, he was already en route up the stairs. Sure, he could have run out to make a stand, but doing so in casual clothes without his gear was as useless as lying down and tickling them to death with his feet. No, he was in his room and quickly donning his armor, grabbing his trident and shield. The kukri found its scabbard and the folded straight razor went to its usual home in his boot. Now, he was ready.

Once arriving at the bottom of the stairs, he looked to S'Essy. "Make a healing station for after and lock all the doors. Your man will see you safe but if you need us, scream."That was all he could offer, though he clearly ignored the man mountain. He could get mad about it later. Pulren moved to the front door, finding a bloody scene erupting already as blades and fists flew among his allies and masked men. The moment he had stepped out it was war, so his battle tactics and experience kicked in without much thinking attached. He began running through the slosh to the right flank, bashing with shield and stabbing with trident as necessary, working his way to the rear of the group. Should there be archers or Wizards, they would find no foothold. If not, the group would find themselves pressed between his sharped tines and the furious blades of the Scars.
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[The Quay] Calling

Postby Aider Silander on January 18th, 2015, 7:50 am

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He had been standing there in silence, watching and listening to the others as they spoke. He had not been with the group that long but even he could see that the writing was calling towards the one who offered for him to join in the first place.
He recognized very few that were there. The Wulf and the one who stood by her side Web, the two were the leaders of sort of the group. Both similar and unique in their own ways. It was interesting to see the two stand side by side. Then of course the Trident wielder, he was not decked out in the same garb that he was before. But Aider recognized his voice and face, his arms crossed his chest as he bit his tongue. Aider had no feelings towards the man ill or not, a slightly bruised ego was not enough for the man to take up arms. Lastly his lover of sorts, the Myrian that he cared for more then any that were in the room. Out of everyone that was there she was the only one who truly had any connection with him.

Everyone else was a mystery and one that he was not quite sure he could solve just by watching them. They spoke with urgency and a slight hint of fear or anger, Aider wasn't quite sure which it was but never the less there was a reason they were all drawn here. To Aider's surprise even he was called. A child, the same that got him into his meeting with the Wulf, had come to his home and told him to report into the Quay. So many people had been drawn to the same place, pulled together because of a movement of a rival gang. He had no reason to speak, he had seen the signs but had not the chance to do any hunting of his own. The cold winds made it harder for Aider to do his job, as inexperienced as he truly was in the field. He had taken the time to strengthen his body and mind as well as practice with his bow. The only thing he could do now was to make out the reactions to certain things that were brought up in the meeting and make a plan from there. Try to plot a course of action for him to take. His eyes slowly traced around the room, glancing over every one of the faces until his came to rest upon Kaie's again.

He knew very little of what was going on, he had not done much with the group and for that he was disappointed. It was a chance to better himself further and he had missed many of them. But playing with others in a group like this was new to the man. He was close to useless in a fight unless his adrenaline just kicked in, the one true fight he had ever really been in with someone else was nothing more then his body reacting on his own. He wasn't sure that he would be able to fight like that in the blink of an eye. His bow rested against his hip as the cloak wrapped around his body. He believed that he might have time to hunt after the meeting was over. A chance to secure some food and practice.

He remained silent as they spoke before he turned his head towards the window he had been standing by when the wolf started to howl and bark in alert. It was something that Aider had yet to get used to. One of the things he feared was loved by the leader of their group. His eyes turned back as Fallon left the room and Web continued. A few others had departed shortly after. Aider stood waiting for some signal to move. A sign that came in the flashing steel of the Myrians gladus, a weapon he had seen drawn on him a time before. He was rather glad he was on the other side of it now. He removed his cloak and retrieved his bow as Zandelia made the call to arms. Aider followed behind Kaie, keeping his distance as to provide more help then harm in the situation, the man was still bloody poor at combat and running in would cause more trouble then good. The best choice he had was to release the arrows that he had in his quiver and hope to not hit a friend.

A slight feeling of relief as he saw Fallon rise to her feet. A good sign that their leader was not yet dead even if her compaction was. Shortly their after it had begun, steel clashed against steel and the energy of the area had risen high above what it normally was. He took a deep breath and sighed, blood and death were sure to follow. He raised his bow with an arrow notched. Pointed towards a man who was making his way toward the Myrian. He let it fly through the air with a satisfying slicing sound as it cut the air before digging into the mans hip. He turned towards Aider and the curses flew. Aider moved to draw and notch another arrow as the man began walking towards him. His shot rushed as he released it while stepping backwards. The arrow spun in the air before slicing against the arm of the man and clashing to the ground.
"Dira take this man with my next arrow" He said more so to himself as he notched another arrow to fire again.

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Hey all, just wanted to say I am sorry for any delays and failed promises. I am getting ready for a huge trip out of the country as well as taking on a lot of extra shifts at work. The creative side of my brain hasn't been active as of late.
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[The Quay] Calling

Postby Markus Andres on January 19th, 2015, 7:22 am

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The knight was confused as they responded to his question. They had been targeted? Was that not the norm for the Scars? Had they not been the targets when Kvist had arrived in the city half a year, or so, earlier. But judging from the expression on Fallon and the Spider's faces, it was different this time. Somehow the more numbers that Fallon could command, the multitude of personalities gathered in this room proved that, meant they were less secure? Kvist gave a nod as they progressed with their talks. He was not a Scars member, undoubtedly the outside world thought him as one, but in the matters concerning Scars he was only an advisor, so unless they began to make any extreme blunders that would compromise his own, and more importantly, S'Essy's safety, he would not speak up unless asked for advice. He had found that was the best way to assist Fallon in her attempts to improving upon Sunberth. As he listened though, it became apparent that there was more at stake than he had initially thought. His brow furrowed, deep at thought. At least Spider had a plan of action. That might provide them with more information as it carried on, but his chief concern was still on S'Essy and the safety of the Quay.

Their leader left. Issued an order on the way that Kvist found weird. Keep each other safe? Redundancy at best, wasted breath in all cases. He gave S'Essy a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. She was not a warrior nor had she, to his knowledge, partaken in anything remotely resembling this situation. He was curious as to what Fallon had left them for, what that sound had been. Web took over, explaining the situation, the plan of attack... or defence. Whatever these people had in mind. He and Noven, teamed up? That would be a silly team. Noven was a punk, good in a bar brawl, but that was where his talents abruptly ended. Kvist didn't voice this concern, mainly because it had been posed as a question and he was not in the mood for insulting a Scar member and instigate a shouting match - the scream surprised him. Fallon? It was rage, not pain. Kvist felt the adrenaline start pumping as he leant forward and pecked his love on the cheek.

"Stay safe hun' and prepare yourself for injured fighters." Kvist hurried out after the group of people. What he saw twisted his gut apart. Orvin lying in his own puddle of steaming blood. Orvin was dead...? The source of her rage was obvious. Before Web, before even Kvist, she had had Orvin. The wolf had been her companion for longer than Kvist knew. Torn from her by the blade of a bastard.

Kvist drew the peacekeeper. Felt the rage that afflicted the people around him echo within himself. There were quite a few intruders within the Quay, but Kvist wasn't going to let any of them get out alive. Web and the Myrian had already gotten into the fray, Web brutally in her method. The Myrian's style reflected her heritage. He saw the shape of Pulren moving at the edge, less possessed by the rage that seemed to have taken the others. An arrow imbedded itself in a man and the one turned to face the source, Kvist only threw a glance in the direcion. A man he did not know, armed with a bow and either cruelly extended the man's pain with sharply aimed arrows designed to inflict pain rather than to kill, or he was a novice at the art... In respect of the latter, he decided to take a step away from the direct line of sight between the two.

Kvist found his target, a larger fellow armed with a longsword. A worn and battered at that. Kvist saw patched of dried blood and resulting rust from negligence. With only a roar that fit his nickname, Kvist moved forward. The longsword came swinging in. Kvist stopped his advance and leant back his upper body and the blade swung right by him. The peacekeeper came up and kept the blade away as he pursued. The man tried to pull his blade back as he stepped back. Kvist didn't allow him to create any distance. By the time he realized the peril, Kvist had slugged him across the face. There was no howl of pain. Only the sound of a cracked jaw came from the man. The thug forcefully tried to swing the blade in again, push back Kvist's blade. Kvist let him. Ducked below the blade. Stepped forward in his crouched position. Left hand found the tip of his own blade and used it to balance out the next strike. As he rose behind the longsword, he brought forth the hilt. Slammed the edge of the crossguard into the left eye of the assailant. Then came the howl as the half-blinded man desperately tried to disengage from Kvist. He managed to turn a quarter way around before the peacekeeper cut halfway into his throat as he turned. Only the intact spine kept his head from rolling away from his lifeless body as he fell. Kvist looked about to find another man to tear apart. Perhaps see if any of the others needed help.
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[The Quay] Calling

Postby Fallon on January 20th, 2015, 12:17 pm

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Fallon saw red. Fire flared up within her stomach, hot breath escaping as her eyes burned forward, the mind writhing and unravelling out of control as she stared - cold, hard and unflinching. The orbs begun to glaze, elements and flickers of pure wrath coursing through, flaring up as the mental restraints shifted, tensing and beginning their snapping, the fingers flexing and pulling back to give that mighty swing and cleave away the source of her pain. She barely managed to take a second step before through her blinded rage she felt the pull back. She skidded, reeled back, the ego juddering against the restraints of logic and soundness, her jaw clenching shut and a plume of hot breath escaping.

There was the howling of noise, the striking clash as the voices came in unison. Anger, rage, cry of the body of the Scars, a defiant stand against the inevitable. It left her standing there as the bodies rushed on past, eyes staring darkly beneath her brow as the rest of her adoptive family came to her aid within a moment of darkness. She heard Zandelia hiss, standing her ground and taking the fight. The gate had clunked shut, the tell tale sounds and taunts filling the air - believing in better as the fray grew and swarmed. Hands gripped around the hilts, shoulders rolling as she fuelled that core of rage and anger with an instinctual focus. She bounded in, the trade mark howl escaping as she jumped at the first and closest, right arm cleaving downwards. There was the juddering jerk back as the retaliation came forth, the high thrust of a blade screeching across studs, leather and the flesh beneath as she contorted away. The left blade came swooping round at that point, delayed but still speedily approaching as she forced the pivot and brought it into her target's side and stuck. With drawing she watched the man stagger away before falling to an inevitable heap upon the floor.

Blood pumped, adrenal rose, pain piercing whilst the mind screamed to continue. The Myrian entered with her battle cry, the roar of Syliras' Lion escaped into the walls of the Quay. Pounding, confirming as the tides of battle swelled, growing as blood was shed and fell to stain the turned white below. Bodies fell, the mind swimming and swirling with emotion to the point it make a mixture of every sensation she could imagine. She found her next target, keening the tulwar back, eyes flickering, stomach twisting and rebelling. She paused then, the half-feral gaze peering out at the fight her heart was no longer in.

The warning was clear, the signs all pointed in one direction. Her steps staggered, almost as if possessed, her mind locking down onto the leader. Her face a mask of nothing, she watched him bark out the orders to pull back as the net closed in around their victims. Eyes fell to the bloody hands, the sharp edges as reality begun to catch up and sink into her senses once more. Death, poison, blood, pain, sorrow. The Scars were holding well, it seemed, and as another came at her she forced the reluctant mind into action. Steel gave a glint, arching round and grinding. Something faulted, arm grinding and pushing against steel, but the refusal to continue it on through. She brought the other tulwar swinging round, weaker, slower than before. It took strength to simply push him back and away, her feet leading her into a defensive retreat.

Weakness, that was what it was. Feet lead her backwards, tulwars swinging as the strikes came at her more and more confident. Cuts and scrapes, the force back in retaliation, her mind piecing together what was before her. These were not just thugs, these were trained. They knew their weapons of choice, they knew how to fight and strike upon the core. Her foot stepped upon the cooling blood, her ankle brushing against fur as she felt the still carcass of Orvin behind her, before taking that misstep. She toppled, right tulwar dropped and skidding across the snow, the sword of the other coming down at her. Fallon did not think, she merely acted, legs ensnared in blood and limbs, her entire torso swinging up and forward, the remaining left tulwar forced into action. Palm slammed against the disc pommel, the curved tip thrust into the exposed tender underbelly.

He slumped on top of her, blade dropped and dead weight of a man trapping her beneath. Muscles strained, feeling the press as she pushed and struggled against it. The feral mindset slowly slipping away behind the chains and locked once more in place. Reluctance was what filled her now, and as she finally managed to establish breathing room and wriggled the dead weight off her enough so she could breath - despite the fact he was still largely upon her. And there she laid, no more will within her to bring herself to rise, her chest rising and falling, the eyes flickering upwards, and looking at the blooded state almost dumbly. Her lips barely twitched as she came to terms, her face attempting to remained steeled and hardened, only to crumble. Fallon breathed, "I can't do this anymore. Can't do this. I can't do this madness." She winced, and raised her arm to cover her eyes, smothering her gaze in an arm of red, "I can't."
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[The Quay] Calling

Postby S'Essy on January 20th, 2015, 1:01 pm

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Everything went slow with meeting and S'Essy just felt bad by every moment. A little comfort came to her face when Markus had arrived. She held his hand while she was thinking, didn't even really pay attention what they were discussing. In fact, she had no idea what they were discussing, this whole Johnny and other thing. She didn't know anything as she was not part of them and she had only one job to do. To keep people alive. Nothing else but this.

She only looked up a bit when Bitzer left the room. From that moment, everything went quickly and the events started to run. Web was explaining something again and then... a cry. A big cry from Bitzer. She was informed to get ready to heal. But what was going on? She followed them and there she saw the blood which made her shiver and she couldn't think anymore. She was at a war and she was in danger.

Everyone was drawing weapons, a dead wolf was lying on the ground all bloodied. Violence everywhere, overwhelming violence which she could hardly handle herself now. She was a healer, she had a baby inside of her. It was enough! And that moment she wanted to go back to Mura, to be home with her mother, she wanted to be grumpy about how unexcited her life was there. Why? Why did this had to happen.

She was standing on the door watching how others were fighting. Her eyes were empty. The Konti tried to even understand what was going on and the reason behind it. She wanted to understand violence and she wanted to remain sane, she was a Healer, she was a pregnant Healer who had to stay sane and strong while there was a battle in front of her. Injuries, deaths... terrible images, which she didn't wish to see. She had seen battles, but not this big.

Then her eyes wandered to Bitzer, who was lying on the ground too, all bloodied. S'Essy's heart stopped beating for a second. Was she dead? With that man? She ran there quickly and she gladly realized that it wasn't the case, she was still moving. But she was broken completely, words came out from her and S'Essy could understand them and felt sympathy. She didn't even know how could she last that long?

She checked the man's body first. Enemy... but her Oath. But he was dead. After that she knelt down to Bitzer, helping her to sit up. Without a word, the Konti pressed her hand on the girl's head, using her Goddess' power to calm her down. "It's okay. Just breath slowly and come with me. They'll protect us." She looked at the Web, Shai, Pulren and Markus. She was worried for them, especially for her lover but the same thought was in her head. She had to be sane, she was the Healer. After the battle, she had work to do. Many work. Her eyes wandered back to Bitzer. Her eyes were serious but the usual smile appeared to make her patient feel a bit better. "But the decision is yours. I'll help you and treat you, since you need rest. Or would you rather continue?"
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Unless I promised one, I can not accept any more threads at the moment! I'm sorry.
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[The Quay] Calling

Postby Shai on January 20th, 2015, 5:31 pm

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The gate was safe, the Scars had kept them all engaged. No part of this fight called for her frail assistance. Instead she stalked around the side. Bitzer had gone down, although Shai had not seen her stricken down. The thief’s steps fell carefully, muted against the mush and combat. The world seemed to move in steps, as though every time Shai blinked and looked back it had all moved one more motion and she couldn’t possibly observe every nuance and difference. But Chell could, Watch these enemies for us, I need to concentrate.

Acceptable, but what do you intend? He inquired.

Shai didn’t reply for several more steps, I am not certain… The little shadow of a woman slowed as she neared the fallen Mercenary. The Konti from the meeting room was assisting Bitzer already, so Shai kneeled on the other side. Somehow it felt entirely wrong to taint the snow Konti woman with the Spider’s darkness. Perhaps she is right, Chell. Perhaps I am done too. We have lived this life so long, how long until we are the victim and not the predator?

So many times, Shai had killed a man. Sunberth had made her into a murder, there was no doubt, but always it had been in some perception of self-defense. The thoughts in Shai’s mind, the calculations, the plans, the tactics, none of them were about self preservation. The spider leaned close and whispered, “It is not done yet, these men are not drunks. Someone ordered this, until that someone is gone this cannot be over. “ That was what the spider had been watching for from the gate; motivation. What had caused these men to attack here? Now? The Wolf? The overwhelming question she tangled with was, why? It had all coalesced into one conclusion, it was an order from more savvy minded individual. “Say the word, I will remove the person who ordered this.”

Anyone who made this order would know these men were dead. If this was truly a gang war, there were leaders calling the shots. Zandelia had said if they needed subtler touch, Shai was the woman for the job. Had the other woman foreseen this outcome? It didn’t really matter.


Rather than waiting stoically for an answer the spider went to searching the man’s corpse. Unlike the healer, the only reason the Symenstra would have cared if he was alive is if she could have pried answers from his muzzle. Since that was no longer an option she went about searching his person. For the most part she blocked out the noise of battle, Chell would watch for that.
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[The Quay] Calling

Postby Zandelia on January 20th, 2015, 11:29 pm

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Maelstrom, that was what this was now, a cacophony of steel and screams. Blood streaked many places upon the courtyard, pooling here and there but mostly subliminal in their presence. There was a moment at the beginning where she thought that she had overstepped, that perhaps the others would not follow her into the fight. It would not have been the first time that she would have had to soldier on alone if not for Fallon. As it was there was the rushing forwards, the surge of bodies that bit deep into the enemy throng. Divided now by the assault many fell quickly and as her eye scanned the battlefield she noted there were three left of their adversary and only one of their had fallen.

Fallon...the bastards! she pulsed with wrath now, she had not seen a mortal blow but she was floored and not getting back up, a body upon her it seemed from her vantage.

She wanted to rush to her aid but it was not the time, threat was still expectant even if it was vastly ameliorated now. She had not drawn a weapon so far, had not needed to as the lines shifted and were pushed back. In truth she didn't require one anyway, fists were as deadly as tonfa these days. A grim grin cast its shadow across her lips as she noted the leader was still alive. That was good, she'd enjoy beating him to death for information. She stepped forwards to become part of the battle line once more as the remainder were beginning to be flanked. The portcullis was dropped too, Shai she presumed from her absence. It was so like the spider to trap her prey before taking it. Ducking under a wild swing her fists lashed out to slam into the ribs on either side of the attacker, he fell back a pace or two with the impact. She followed, she was in no hurry to let the sorrow take over from the rage.

He came for her again, a lunging attack this time and she twisted her body as she smacked it away with her gauntlets, the clang of emtal upon metal vibrating as the shock echoed in her forearm. He was off balance now and she lashed out a straight left at his jaw and sent him spinning back still trying to circel around and bring the guard back up – he was nothing if not persistent when faced with impending death. She danced forwards to punch his shoulder as he turned so that he couldn't get face to face without stepping back again, it created a second flank if others stepped in behind her as she cut him off outside of his friends sphere of protection. He span quickly and the blade came around. She leant back but its tip sliced at her forehead just close enough that a thin strip of red began to ooze blood. Yet he was exposed as he brought his blade around and overhead, enough that she was able to grab a hold of his throat with one hand and the hands around his weapon with the other. He spat at her and she spat back as she hooked a leg behind his and forced him to the floor. With the leverage there was little he could do now except splutter as his windpipe was crushed, though he did let loose his sword and try to beat quite convincingly upon her torso in desperation.

Wiping her forehead with her arm she turned and saw only two left now, the leader trying to flee towards the now closed gate. The other lone fighter, deprived of leadership was now doomed to whomever decided to strike the killing blow. She heaved herself up, turned and began to make her way after the leader slowly, it was gratifying to see him scurry away pointlessly for some reason.

“Get him back here and on his knees!” she shouted to no one in particular as her vision began to become stained with red from her sliced forehead. She tried to stem its tide but it was difficult when it flowed so quickly now that it was opened to the world.

“Fallon!” she spoke loudly again, pacing towards her form now, convinced the battle was won and no one else would be in particular danger of being killed, “are you okay? Please be okay” she knelt down as she held a hand to her superficial badge of honour.
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[The Quay] Calling

Postby Kaie on January 21st, 2015, 9:47 pm

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So sweetly perilous the air of battle was. There was an uneven rhythm of the clashing blades, the groans of protest as weapons stalled those of their adversary, and the pitiful shrieks of the slain echoing about the Quay at a volume that surely sent the bystanders outside the portcullis running. Her heart raced triumphantly with the sound of the Lion's (apparently now Mark's) roar and the twanging release of arrows from Aider's bow. Uncle too had joined the fray, now donning familiar armor and wielding the fearsome trident. Their foe was very unlike the Daggerhand many had slain in the streets, otherworldly compared to those the headstrong Myrian had taken on in drunken brawls. Not even the slavers, whose money and growing influence bought them formidable loyalty, could compare. The very fact she'd managed to kill one without so much as a fatal dance was baffling and a miracle at best. Luck alone could not win them battles, and as the savage turn to swing her sword, she'd do well to remember just that.

With the first man fallen into his bloody resting place, amber sights searched fervidly for a new target. It was during that rotation she found Fallon. Fallen. No, came that internal growl to deny what was before her eyes. There was blood, blood on the man that had collapsed upon her and blood on the woman's arm. There came that sinking in her chest, the decreasing of morale that came when a soldier watched their leader fall. For that moment she was frozen even while S'Essy tended to the gang leader, whose lifting of her bloodied arm attested to her survival. A howl came from her side some distance away. Kaie turned her head to find one of the men staggering, turning his path from her to go after the archer that wounded him. The numbers of their enemy had quickly dwindled. The battle would not last much longer. The Myrian grit her teeth and turned toward the man who would limp with malicious intent to slay her lover...until she heard Zandelia's orders.

Head spun again, brown curls whipping in the wintry air toward the sound of running feet. The coward ran past her in a mad-dash for the portcullis. You bastard! Kaie was quick to follow, rocking onto the balls of her feet into a full-fledged sprint to apprehend him. Cold air burned at her lungs, bladed boots pounding upon the earth in a desperate race. Then she launched herself at him, sheathing her sword so that her free hands could latch onto the back of him, sending them both hurtling into the ground with likewise grunts. He tried to scramble away toward the portcullis as if he could walk through it to safety like a ghost. Myri's blessing upon the back of her neck burned fiercely. The kukri whipped free of its sheath upon her back into her hands, and she jerked it across the back of his ankle with enough finesse to demand a cry from the man. He faltered, and she darted to capitalize on his vulnerability. If only she hadn't been so foolish to underestimate him.

In a tick the savage was upon him again with a shriek, lunging upon and digging her kukri into the space between his throat and shoulder. So satisfying was that simple victory, the satisfaction she got out of feeling her blade penetrate his flesh and cake her hands in blood. So close it was that she would've completed the task and brought the man down to receive their justice. So sure was she that the wound she inflicted upon him would bring him to immediate defeat. She was wrong. The enemy gave a scream and his hands reached back to hurl her from him. Her massive knife remained in his body even as she fell onto the earth. It was her turn to rocket back to her feet, but the mistake was already made. Amber eyes widened, a pit growing in her stomach. She felt herself pedaling back on her heels and her body turning in a last ditch effort to save herself. It was too late. A tick between the moment he'd rid himself of her and she'd managed to stand, the tip of his wicked blade found her when he swung.


"Petch!" Kaie staggered back with a deep grimace. The attacker gave a tug at her kukri embedded in his flesh and hurled it upon the ground. Blood flowed freely and eagerly down his breastplate and weaved through the chain mail, whose weight had made him so easy to catch. He cursed and groaned, holding a gauntlet upon the deep wound. However, after a few steps forward his knees weakened and his attempt at escape quickly faltered. The Myrian's inhale was more of a hiss. Lungs heaved, each expanding of her chest eliciting sensations of agony. Nonetheless, with a fierce stubbornness in her expression, the young woman forced herself to retrieve the kukri and went after the man again. She put a heel to his back to send him collapsing back onto his stomach, the sword leaving his grip when his wrist slammed upon the earth. A bronze knee crushed upon his spine and the blade of her knife pressed upon the side of his throat.

"You will answer for what you've done, and then you will answer Dira," The savage threatened, the brutality of her accent making her warning harsher. Kaie gave a deep wince. It was only then she dared to look upon her punishment. The sunkissed tone of her torso was smothered in red on the right side. The slice that punctured her leather vest let free a continuing flow of crimson. Morwen's wintry breath came again, and her own winter cloak stuck against it the blood-soaked fabric. A bite of her lip and she tore her gaze away, jutting her knife so hard against the man's jugular it was a wonder she hadn't broken the skin. His struggling ceased in a way that signaled his acceptance of defeat despite how he cursed her. All she could feel was the trickling down the length of her rib cage, and the sound of droplets hitting the snow below.
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