Quest Bad Business

Organization specific roleplay for governments, guilds, adventure groups, or anything similar

Ishmael

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FALWOOD - RUINS

It was not often that outsiders made their business in Falwood.

As the home of most elves, the sprawling forest region had quite the reputation. Some spoke of men succumbing to madness. Other tales whispered of disappearing without a trace. In each of these stories, there was one common thread: malicious intentions were almost always met in kind. For Ishmael Al-Zahhak, these stories were enough to keep the man far from the forest's borders. For one, the nature of his business was such that creating enemies was commonplace. For another, he much preferred navigating the desert. He was used to the sands, used to the routes - woods were another animal entirely.

Yet, this day, the nature of his business would see him set aside his preferences. All due to the actions of one elf.

In the world of selling violence for coin, he was known as a butcher. His rates were literally excessive due to how successful his missions were. If one wanted a king slain, for example, this was the elf who would make it happen. For many years, he made a name for himself by doing good, quality work. Recent years, however, had seen a...concerning series of changes. Missions which called for discretion were being completed loudly. And while casualties were a reality of mercenary work, he was leaving graveyards in his wake.

Moreover, where once he worked alone, he now gathered a brutal gallery of accomplices. Together, they were quickly becoming a scourge in the mercenary world. In fact, they had even turned upon contractors - murdering them in cold blood after a job was finished. And while the actions of a single vile organization would never cease the mercenary trade, Ishmael noticed the hesitancy of clients. They were worried about their own safety. Worried about the outcome of missions. Worried if hiring his company would have the same results as the elf's.

To put it simply, this elf was bad for business. So much so that his regular clients were ready to reward anyone who'd put an end to his habits. That was all the motivvation Ishmael needed to ride.

Thus, the quiet of the Falwood's borders was interrupted by the sound of horses. Ishmael led a squad of five men into the elven homeland, intent on sniffing out their mark. In an ideal world, they could speak as men and reach an amiciable conclusion to the brutality. But Ishmael lived in reality - he knew knocking at the man's front door would only end in violence. To prepare for this, his four fellows were among the best of his company. Now, it was fortunate that the elf rather publicized his locale. After all, clients were welcome to visit his base of operations to discuss potential contracts.

His home was a series of ruins. At a glance, they seemed to be temples of a sort that were abandoned eons ago. Every stone was cracked and covered in moss. Animals of every sort roamed free and nested within the buildings. The elf had claimed the largest structure - a pyramid - for himself. Yet, he seemingly made no efforts to restore the temple to its former glory. The only evidence Ishmael could make out of his presence were the horses which tarried by the base of the pyramid.

Slowing his own steed, turned to his fellows. "Be on your guard. Izak, watch for any magic. Barbatos, watch our rear. Gael, you're on horses. Ruben, with me."

With his orders given, Ishmael dismounted and approached the temple stairs. The elf had made quite the impression on the mercenary world - but that story ended today.[/size]​

 
Green eyes narrowed slightly as they fell upon her prey a short distance from where she knelt. Hidden within the vegetation and with the light being blocked by the canopy of the forest above he presence was totally concealed. Silently she lifted her her bow as her free hand reached up to draw an arrow from her quiver, slowly the arrow was knocked she extended her bow arm as she drew back on the sting. As soon as the bow was fully drawn the string was released and snapped back to its place, the arrow in question raced across the forest floor striking a deer cleanly in the heart, a quick and painless death.

Finally Linaeli, rose from her concealment and threw back her hood the crimson haired Elf walked deftly through the underbrush to claim her kill. No longer concerned with being detected she began to hum a tune while she returned her bow over her shoulder and set about the work of tending to her kill. She claimed its meat and its hide, what was left would be food for the creatures of the forest. She set her prizes into a satchel before slinging them over her should and rising from her bloody work then paused as a new sound disrupted the peace of the forest.

She paused as her brow furrowed, horses five of them each with a different cadence, quickly she pulled her hood back over her crimson hair. The white armor she wore was a stark contrast to the forest but but the emerald green cloak she wore was pulled all the more tightly around her obscuring much of the armor and helping her blend into the forest.

She rapidly but silently moved to where the sound emanated from, deftly maneuvering through the forest at speed she heard the hooves one by one come to a stop. As she neared the source she paused and disappeared into the underbrush once more. Green eyes peered beneath the hood at a band of heavily armed men, she stayed at least a hundred feet from them and simply observed for now, studying each of them in turn as one began barking orders she focused her eyes on him. Calmly she wrapped her hand around her bow just in case ready to react in a split she knew these ruins but had little interest in them herself, the fact that they were gathering there simply meant trouble in her mind.
 
Voph was lost. Not in the literal sense. No, he very much knew exactly where he was. Five paces in front of that bush, seven paces from the next one. But where to go exactly, and what to do next, he'd no idea. His interaction with Ishmael at the inn was...well, a positive one, he supposed. They hadn't killed each other. And that alone carried a great deal of respect for Voph.

Voph cursed himself under his breath. Why was he following that blasted sand elf? He needed to be hiding, not parading around with quite possibly the most infamous mercenary this side of his mother's arse. But the mercenaries uses outweighed his dangers. He could prove useful to Voph. And Voph knew the man needed muscle. An easy enough exchange.

So, he moved through the forest quietly, sword gripped tightly in his main hand. He could see the ruins through the trees, and knew that must be where Ishmael was going. Now he just had to make it there in time to make himself of use. But that would be of no issue. He was already close enough to see Ishmael dismounting. He drew closer to the tree line, and paused.

There were others near by. Had to be. If he could move unseen, so could his enemies. Ishmael's target would be a fool to not have others lying in wait. Voph crouched, looking about him to look for obvious vantage points, and less than obvious vantage points. Whether Ishmael knew he was here or not, Voph was now here. Waiting and watching, unseen in the shadows about the trees. His natural element...

Merethyl Elatoris | Patrik Fetladral | Linaeli Aneiryn
 
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"Way haaaay up she rises, way haaay up she rises, way hay up she rises earlie in the mornin'...." A deep baritone would call out as out he walked along a path from the woods. A long traveler's cloak with covered most of the man from which the voice came, a light hearted tone in the air, and a smile on his face. On his back, a pack with an unstrung bow, various pieces of gear, and atop it a sizeable buck that he'd just taken in the woods. He might have field dressed it, but having passed what seemed to be a small settlement he figured a small chat with the occupants would be fitting.

And what better a gift to start a conversation than fresh game roasted over an open fire, with herbs mostly gathered from the woods?

The thoughts on his face were jovial, to match the tone of his voice as he kept walking back towards the cluster of ruins which were clearly inhabited. A return home for a time to reacquaint himself with the woods he grew up in, along with a stop by his old man's house would be definitely in order. He had so many stories to share, a priestess of dark powers, paladins of light and darkness, a rotted demon knight that spoke foully in one of his last encounters. So many stories, and so much more to gather. He hoped his father would be proud. To be a storyteller such as him, maybe even a hero, that was something that Patrik hoped he could measure up to.

Patrik however was broken from his little reverie as I looked forward and saw five horses galloping up at a hard pace. More visitors? No, these men were heavily armed. Raiders perhaps? Too few. Mercenaries then? Possibly, but one could never be sure. These men weren't elvish, which certainly had them out of sorts here. Few ventured into the forests of Falwood, with less than pure intentions and survived. Maybe they would need a guide? Patrik's brief pause and inquisitive look would be broken once again with a jovial smile as these travelers would possibly need a guide. And being mercenaries, they probably had stories all their own. More dinner guests to share in this bounty as well, he'd have to get some of the good meats from this buck to make a nice stew to pair with a good roast. Wonderful! He decided to wave with a chuckle at the new arrivals.

"Hail friends! What brings you to these parts? You have beautiful horses by the way- oh! Where are my manners? I am Patrik Fetradal of Falwood,"

 
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Sariel had left Fal'addas a short time ago to travel back to her manor in Alliria to resume taking mercenary contracts, having spent a few months in Fal'addas seeking the calm of the Falwood for her magical studies. Sariel often ceased taking mercenary contracts for a few months at a time to retreat to Fal'addas but she was still a very prolific mercenary and most amongst the mercenary circles would know who she was, at least in passing, and that if you needed something ruthless done that, she might be the one to do it. The calm of the forest did always bring her a certain amount of comfort though, like many elves. She had made camp, more just selecting a spot amongst the trees then what the average human might think of as a camp, near a landmark ruin not long ago amongst the trees. Sariel was enjoying some venison jerky as she rested at her small spot amongst the trees however that was when from her perch, she noticed in the distance four figures on horseback and upon eyeing them closer they appeared to be humans making a direct path towards the pyramid ruins landmark Sariel had often used for navigation. She stowed her rations and quickly moved to a stealthier location amongst the trees so that she could continue to have the drop on these humans that she had quite a disdain for.

Great. Just what I need in my forests is more human fools pillaging it, might as well find out what they're up to.

Sariel made her way on an interception path towards them, using the trees for stealth, her mithril plated chainmail making not a sound with not enough light in the trees to provide even a glint off the well-kept metal, as she approached, she heard the man on horseback in the lead give directions to the others, clearly the leader, however another human now appeared who introduced himself as Patrik Fetradal of Falwood. While Sariel had never seen nor met the man she had heard stories of a human ranger living within the Falwood from other elves in Fal'addas and they seemed to tolerate him well enough. Sariel settled atop a ruined pillar above the, now five, humans to make herself known, she could feel the gaze of someone or something else coming from within the trees, a note to remain cautious then however she had not drawn her swords or channeled any magic yet, she had an advantageous position, the high ground and the humans weren't openly hostile yet at least. Sariel focused her gaze, hardened over years of combat and poor experiences with non-Elves, upon the human that she had heard give orders earlier, that now that she was closer, she swore she recognized the man from somewhere, perhaps he was another mercenary she had seen in passing? Sariel then began to speak, her voice graceful yet authoritative:

"I am not as gregarious as the ranger there. You there in the lead, why have you come here? Do you seek to take or destroy more of what you do not understand of my forests? Speak quickly."

Patrik Fetladral | Voph | Linaeli Aneiryn | Ishmael
 
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FALWOOD - RUINS

The first step was nearly taken.

With his orders given, Ishmael moved to place his leading foot upon the first step of the temple ruin. Yet before his boot could so much as contact the mossy earth, one of his fellows gripped his shoulder. Barbatos, one of Ishmael's most trusted comrades, had seemingly taken his orders to heart. His typically brown eyes were alive with magick, brimming with an azure glow. Ishmael knew this technique well: a simple spell meant to enhance one's ability to see. With but a single sweep of the surrounding area, Barbatos understood one thing: they were not alone.

"Company." he snarled.

"His crew?"

"Doubt it. Your Drow friend and a couple others, by the looks of it."

Ishmael nodded and returned his leading foot to the forest floor. "Lovely. Signal Voph to join us - last thing we need are any more surprises." Barbatos grunted in the affirmative and looked in the Drow's direction. The newest edition to their band would feel Barbatos' thoughts enter his psyche. Another handy spell. Nothing too invasive - just a general vibe to come hither. As he did so, one of the "couple others" came wandering out of the bush...as jovial as could be.

Ishmael's eyebrow rose at the sight of the man. He appeared to be a hunter of sorts, judging by the buck which hung from his form. "Well met Patrik Fetradal." came the mercenary's response. "I am Ishmael Al-Zahhak and these are my men. We've come to...speak with a fellow mercenary. He's made quite a bit of noise as of late." Noise was putting the bloodshed politically. "Are you familiar at all with these ruins?"

Then came the voice from above.

Ishmael turned and saw the form of a female elf standing atop a pillar. One of his men, Gael, stiffened at the sight of her and nudged the mercenary on the arm. "Shit...Ish, that's Runeblade." The sable-skinned mercenary's eyebrows rose. The elf in question had garnered quite the reputation within the cities their band frequented. Ruthlessly efficient with a blade and not one for mincing words. But why was she here? Had she also come to deal with the problem?

"I have a mission that led me here." he began, speaking truthfully. "I've come for the one who sullies the name Sellsword. Have you come for the same purpose?"

Of course, the din of thundering horse hooves, bold singing, and calling out from the ruins had not gone unnoticed. Though the naked eye would never perceive it, magick began to lace into the air. Energies thick and heavy. Those who could wield and perceive the flow of energies would become ever aware of this fact. They had been seen - and whoever saw them was about to make one large introduction.​

 
Voph did not immediately emerge from the treeline. He wasn't done scanning it for intruders. But soon he was satisfied that there were no archers hiding in the trees. And he was...disappointed. Certainly not how he'd have defended his home. He stood, turning to look behind him one last time, before pushing forward into the clearing.

His hood, as ever, was drawn loose about his head, shielding him from the sun. Centuries below ground were not kind to his tolerance of such things. His clothing dark, concealing simple yet effective armor underneath. Yellow eyes with a slight glow to them peered out from under the cloak. His gaze lingered upon Ishmael for a moment, as if to say there were no unseen threats.

He turned to look at the elf that had confronted them, but said nothing. His stature matched hers far better than it did any Drow. Yet his appearance mimicked the Drow almost perfectly. Perhaps he was a half-breed? Regardless, the woman was fixed with a probing stare, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studdied her for every possible advantage he could gain...

Merethyl Elatoris | Patrik Fetladral | Linaeli Aneiryn
 
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Deep within the Ruins, a half buried chamber held the sorceress, as well as two of her faithful minions. The zombies had been equipped with the best armor she could scavenge, and she'd even imbued their swords with enchantments of keenness as well as swiftness. It wasn't quiet a set of cursed blades, but they'd get the job done nicely if anyone tried to interfere with Sabrina's work. Of course, she was in the middle of working on a ritual when a surge of magic upset the delicate ritual, and sent a swirl through the runes she'd been creating, altering them and misdirecting the flow. She had bare seconds to realize the spell was about to blow up in her face...

All her power dispelled into the air like a signal light and she'd clench her fists in frustration. Fantastic, now those mercenaries up above where going to be hunting for her. "Just why did you have to ruin my work." She'd ask the nameless men angrily. Needless to say, it was time to go. She'd gather her two body guards about herself as she prepared to go, grabbing her her notes, and what tools hadn't been destroyed by the surge of magic, the woman would soon emerge out into the light, it seemed to be rather bright, which further displeased her...

And then pale green eyes fell upon the newcomers, a mixed bag of adventurers it would seem. She'd look to her two guards and order them tersely to conceal themselves. To which they'd gather the cloaks close about themselves as she stepped forward. "Hello... I am Sabrina Argent, of Alliria." She'd fold her arms while the two cloaked figures flanked her protectively. "Who decided to flare their magic? It disrupted a VERY sensitive project of mine." She'd feel her eyes harden as she glared at the strangers. It had been weeks of research, preparations and casting, now ruined because someone had used powerful magic at the exact wrong moment!

She'd then trail off, as she sensed the growing magic, but it was coming from the mercenary camp. "Oh... it wasn't you folks it would seem." She'd sigh in frustration as she turns to face the camp inside the ruins. "You and your friends may want to get out of here." She'd remark with concern. Certainly she was ready to flee, because it seemed like things where about to get far to lively around here for her comfort.

Patrik Fetladral | Voph | Linaeli Aneiryn | Merethyl Elatoris | Ishmael
 
Sariel saw yet another human, who introduced herself as Sabrina, appear from out of the ruins which was, displeasing, to say the least.

"Gods above, humans infest places like a plague of rats I swear." She muttered under her breath, sighing.

Soon after she saw a Drow silently enter the picture, at least he didn't feel the need to be quite so loud, he was rather tall for a Drow though which was odd. In any case he didn't appear to be a threat at this point in time, seemingly more of an observer than anything else but someone to take note of.

Turning her attention back to Ishmael she thought aloud for a moment,

"Ishmael...Ishmael...Where have I heard that name before...." when it came to her.

"Ah, you're that particularly violent mercenary. I'd heard rumors you were an elf of some sort but you look pretty human to me. No matter, it is of no consequence. To answer your question Ishmael, no I have not come here for the same reason. I was merely making my way from my home in Fal'Addas back to my base in Alliria though realistically the Falwood in general is my home. You say that you have come for someone, whom might that be?"

No sooner had she finished asking Ishmael her question when she could feel magic emanating from behind her. Sariel spun around instinctively and while she expected offensive magic, she didn't see any projectiles coming their direction. Her eyes began searching for the source and while she couldn't immediately identify it, she did see what appeared to be some shimmering against the ruin wall, perhaps some supporting magic for stealth or a trap? No matter, she would deal with it now.

"There."

She began channeling her magic, a workhorse of a spell she affectionately called Sunburst, the tattoo on her face and the tattoos on her body glowing an iridescent blue as four spheres of bright golden flames appeared in front of her, a mere second later she let them loose at her shimmering target, the spheres accelerating with great speed and exploding on impact, and as the spell impacted, she drew one of her swords as well to prepare for any potential close combat. Even if she had not caused direct damage to whoever might have been there, if in fact there was anyone there at all to begin with, the spell's explosion was also blinding to those in the blast zone.

Patrik Fetladral | Voph | Linaeli Aneiryn | Ishmael | Sabrina Argent
 
Patrik was grinning ear to ear as Ishmael, the apparent leader of the group spoke in response. His pause though bellied that he certainly wasn't just here to have words with a fellow mercenary. He hoped that he could keep it from getting violent, unnecessary bloodshed was a terrible thing. That's when it seemed all of the sudden more players began coming out of the woodwork. First a man with dark clad robes, he couldn't quite see his face clearly but he could certainly tell he was a male, possibly elvish. Then there was the rude elf that had called him "gregarious". Why he just so enjoyed life, why shouldn't he sing little ditties to himself to help pass the time? She seemed very grumpy however, and knowing many an elf he could think of a reason or two as to why. His travelling cloak and pack certainly looked out of place, but she seemed to regard him less than the group on horseback in front of them. He took a breath while looking at the ruins in question, before speaking again.

"While I am not familiar with these ruins in question, I have gone exploring through many a cave, dungeon and ruins. I had intended on making introductions as there's clearly someone living there, and maybe trade some stories. I will ask that you do not try to," he looked deliberately at Ishmael's sword "Instigate or otherwise use your swords to take your prize by force. We are civilized beings are we not? Let us go forth, share a meal, tell each other tales and otherwise be merry! We can accomplish so much more with kind words and good faith than resorting to more savage means,"

Then he saw another person arise from the woods themselves, and while he managed to pick out her guards, they were certainly doing their best to remain unnoticed. He got a weird feeling from her. Something he hadn't felt in some time, not since the priestess he'd encountered in the village with the rotting knight and paladin. She had an aura about her that while not magical in nature, Patrik was keen on how people conducted themselves. It came with the territory of constantly talking and interacting with people. He wasn't stupid, just optimistic.

Which was why he hadn't opened his cloak to show them what lay underneath it. If it was one thing the old man taught him, it was to play his hand close to his chest. He didn't want more fighting to break out here, especially if it could be avoided, because more often than not it left behind more damage and destruction that was warranted. And he did want to explore these ruins later. He waved to the latest newcomer with a innocence and optimism that was almost the antithesis to how she looked. He started walking towards the aforementioned direction where the magic was coming from, humming his tune to himself as he strut forward. Seeing the magical exchange however, he immediately broke his humming with an almost annoyed yell towards the elvish offender.

"Milady I would like to insist that we do not antagonize anyone here needlessly. I have come bearing the gifts of fine food so that I may share a bountiful feast with some friends and I welcome all who would wish to share this bounty. I know this recipe for a roast from a man that I met on the rolling plains north of Vel Anir, such an absolute delicacy to be sure! Granted when we shared our meal it was with this local species of bird, I think he called them pheasants? Regardless, this recipe was absolutely splendid and I think with the herbs and spices I have gathered I could possibly replicate such mastery with this beautiful buck I bagged. I would be sincerely disheartened to not be able to share such gifts with you,"

Sariel Elatoris | Voph | Linaeli Aneiryn | Ishmael | Sabrina Argent
 
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Of course horses thundering through a quiet would draw attention, and one by one more gathered to the scene, most of them human. Emerald eyes moved between Ishmael and his group and one by one assessed each new arrival, the one who named himself Patrik seemed especially curious, she felt he was far too jovial for human, then suddenly a fellow Elf appeared, situated on top of a pillar and speaking arrogantly to all assembled an almost imperceptible chuckle escaped her lips. Once more a stranger appeared from the woods around them, quiet and seemingly cold as her eyes fell on Voph with curiosity she continued to watch and study.

They all seemed strong in their own way, yet nobody seemed too concerned yet to draw steel so she too decided to take a chance and stood from her hiding spot amongst the underbrush of the forest, suddenly very close to the grouping there stood a cloaked figure wrapped in green just out of reach of all of them. With her bow still in her left hand she reached up her right hand drew back the hood, each in turn would see a young elf woman. Her hair was the color of blood and her eyes shared the same green as the forest around them, beneath the cloak she wore an intricate form fitting armor that was as white as the first snow of winter.

Just as she was about to introduce herself to the growing assembly she felt it, the magic was beginning to swirl around them just a moment before the other Elf spun around and began launching spells at something, she didn’t bother to wait or ask questions, rather she hoisted the bow and at the same time nocked an arrow but as she did those around could feel magic being channeled into the arrowhead a moment before release, it flashed across the forest blazing red and embedded itself into the wall where Sariel had struck, a half a moment later that very same wall was rocked by a magical explosion, not enough to wound those nearby but had anything been next to that wall? That is a very different story.​

Sariel Elatoris | Voph | Linaeli Aneiryn | Ishmael | Sabrina Argent | Patrik Fetladral
 
FALWOOD

For the moment, gathering within the Ruins seemed uneventful.

If one considered a growing number of strangers appearing in the same locale as mundane, that is. In short order, the Drow heeded Ishmael's silent summons and rejoined their midst. Without saying anything, his gaze relayed the message that the surrounding forest was clear. Good. At least it seemed they had not aroused a response from outside of the ruins. However, Barbatos' eyebrows soon rose.

As they were beginning their conversation, magick had crept in. Slithered as if lacing the very shadows. It would have gone quite unnoticed too, were it not for the flare. Unbeknowest to Ishmael's band, the mingling of their mark's own tactics and the Sorceress' ritual had created a reaction. One which saw power flood into the air. It was enough that even an untalented mage could feel the weight in the air.

"Not quite the entrance I was hoping for." Ishmael muttered, placing his offhand upon the pommel of his sword. Barbatos and the rest of the band got the message - stay alert, stay alive. Soon thereafter, their midst was joined by another. A woman flanked by two hooded guards. She introduced herself politely before demanding to know who had decided to interrupt her ritual with their own power. But before they could give an answer, her own senses revealed the answer.

It was not them. Not by a long shot.

While on his guard, Ishmael's attention settled upon the one known as the Runeblade. He chuckled when she identified him as a particularly violent mercenary. It wasn't the first thing he'd describe himself as, but it was a fitting moniker nonetheless. What's more, she had come - not for joining their mission - but to return to her own home. "I beg your pardon for intruding in your backyard." came the mercenary's response.

Ishmael then paused, noting the words of the jovial one. His nostrils flared momentarily as a hefty sigh escaped them. "Ideally, I would like a peaceful resolution to our goal." he said. "But our host is not known for speaking. Even now, I suspect it is his magick we are feeling. His magick that draws ever close-"

He would have said more, but it seemed the Runeblade was not of the diplomatic mindset. She felt the advance of power. And her response was not simply waiting until the unseen adversaries revealed themselves. Shimmering orbs of flame appeared before her and were let loose towards the source of the sensation. The resulting explosion kicked up dirt and stone aplenty while leaving quite a bit of smoke in their wake. As the explosions rocked the earth, the jovial one yelled a response to the Runeblade.

Yet, as the smoke cleared, a bone-chilling laugh would echo in their minds.

"You are not the first to come for me."

Ishmael squinted as the smoke cleared, revealing an elf with a transparent sphere guarding his form. He lowered the barrier with a snap of his fingers...This was nothing more than a signal. The flow of power? The creeping magick? Concealment for not only himself, but for his band. Above his position, standing atop the frontmost ruin, were a trio of archers aiming down at their position. What's more, their flanks were occupied by a mixed bag of armed men. Ishmael's quick glance made out some orcs, some men, and some elves. All of which were armed to the teeth...and grinning.

As for their Mark, he simply raised a hand as if to give himself room to speak. A satchel was taken from his waist and tossed at Ishmael's feet. It tumbled. Rolled. And out spilled the severed head of a fellow mercenary. One who had gone before them to confront the Butcher. "Now, I get where you're coming from...I truly do." he added, placing his hands over his heart.

"How I do business is cutting into your business. I really empathize, really. But, this is just the way of the world. The more I work like this, the more our clients will expect it. There's no point in holding back anymore - no point in prisoners or being selective with our targets. Smite them all and soon we'll be seeing bonuses every mission. Now...I know you're all smart. I know you all want coin. I know you all don't want to die. So I'll make this one offer."

"Leave now and tell all the other little mercs that business will be different from now on. Leave and live. Stay? And you'll end up like our friend here. What do you say?"

Ishmael said nothing at first, but felt his tingers tense upon the pommel of his blade. His mind opened, reaching out to the strangers who had made their presences known. The mercenary and the Sorceress. The jovial one and even the elf who was approaching. "My gut says we're not walking out of here even if we did take the deal...Hate to drag you in, but if we want to live, looks like we'll have to fight our way out. Together."

With that said, the Sellsword sighed.

"As much as I'd love to take your offer," he began, tone dripping with sarcasm, "I think I'll pass."

From thence, there were no more words. The archers above let loose a storm of arrows targeting Sariel's position. And the armed men advanced on where Patrik, Voph, Sabrina, and Ishmael stood. Blades were drawn and the fight of a lifetime was on.​

 
Patrik watched as the magic surged forth, the wall exploded and then the cruel laughed that seemed to emanate into his very soul. It was almost like that he couldn't hear it, so much as he felt it reverberate in his mind. He saw the many men, orcs, and others surround their flanks with clearly an aggressive intent, and then he heard the man speak. An ultimatum, but from the tone and the situation he felt something sinister. A bundle was tossed and as it rolled Patrik could recognize the sound it made as it came towards them. It was wet and dull, roughly round. It was definitely a piece of someone. And when it finally stopped rolling he winced as he saw the head come free. Regardless he had to try, his father wouldn't approve of him not attempting to diffuse the situation. He would drop the buck on his shoulders and rush forward a short distance.

"Wait!"

He had placed himself between both parties, the leaders of the different mercenary bands on each side as he held up his hands. His voice had lost its jovial, hope filled tone, and had now turned desperate. He looked between them as while he knew this was a fool's errand he had to try.

"Please sirs! I beg of you! We do not have to resolve this matter with violence. We are not some base animals that lack any kind of discernment or restraint! You do not, have to do this!"

But then he heard the other mercenary's voice in his head, and saw a knowing look in his eyes. Then he heard his actual voice speak, and from there he knew it was a lost cause. He watched the archers loose their arrows, and that was all he needed to see to know where this was heading. He internally sighed that his bow was unstrung but nothing to be done about that now. His hands would almost flick to the straps to his pack as it dropped to the ground and he decided that he had to end this as quickly as possible. He could stop this bloodshed if he got the man to surrender.

Patrik wasted no time in pulling his sword from its scabbard on his pack as he took off at a sprint directly towards the leader. He was no spellcaster, but he could certainly get his attention and force a decision. Either deal with him, or the other spell casters in the group. He had his sword in a reverse grip as he sprinted forward, his cloak flowing behind him flapping as he leaned forward. There was a bit of distance between him and the leader, but Patrik moved with a quickness that bellied his athleticism. Hatharal's own lessons for being quick, that speed was most important to survive, was all he was thinking about. He wasn't a great swordsman, but he had to put pressure on the "King" as it were. His other hand was kept free as he used his free arm to help him move more quickly, he had his other tools on him.

He hoped the elf didn't make him use them.

 
When a telepathic voice sought entrance into her mind the young woman spent a few moments shoring up her defenses while Ishmael spoke to them. He had reminded her that she wasn't alone now and her thoughts and mind where no longer as safe as she was accustomed to them being. The sight of the men and orcs surrounding them rendered her previous suggestion moot. After all, how could you escape and flee if you had to break through a ring of steel and murderous intent first? She sighed, she really didn't want to get into a battle, the risk of injury and death where far higher than she considered acceptable. However, at times, one had no choice, as circumstances presently proved.

No words where shared with her two bodyguards. The simply moved into flanking positions guarding her back and sides while the woman raised a hand from the folds of her robes, a sickly green energy would swirl around her as she said quietly. "You've ruined months of work Sir." Her pale blue gaze locked upon the leader of the band of bandits that had appeared as through an invisibility spell had been lifted. Probably precisely what had occurred, really.

While Sabrina was preparing a spell that looked more and more like it was going to drain the life from her foes as soon as they got to close, both of her body guards where engaged by two of the orcs that had appeared, and a third man, looking almost roguish was attempting to slip through their ranks to slide a blade into the oblivious Sorceress' back. Suddenly the green aura around Sabrina writhed forward, attempting to wrap around the man that was busy indulging in a villan's monologue, however, surely such a mercenary as himself would have defenses against her sort of magicks. And so her attack probably yielded negligible results, regretfully.

Sariel Elatoris | Voph | Linaeli Aneiryn | Ishmael | Patrik Fetladral