Open Chronicles The Raid on The Buried City (Osteriam)

[Gella Rerra]

Since the moment dawn broke over the slowly dying city of Osteriam that morning, the furious assault of powdery sheets of snow hadn't relented in their efforts to beat against every street, building, and person unfortunate enough to find themselves in the mountainside mining town. The weather had been frigid but mild the previous day, and one wondered if the crescendo it had built to was an omen of the events that were to occur this fateful day. The town had been bustling and busy as travelers from all across Arethil had filtered in one by one, lured in by rumors of something incredible and life-changing buried beneath the snowy surface they walked on. Some aimed to claim it for themselves, other's joined up with the treacherous gang that held de facto rule over the entire city, The Jagged Emeralds. Some sided with the people of the city, aiming to stop the Emeralds from their conquest of the caverns.

No matter which side they were on, today was the day that their decisions and choices would come to fruition. Despite how blisteringly cold the city was, the activity within it was anything but slowed. Along the natural mountain wall that bordered most of the city, the dim glow of torches broke through the mist of the blizzard, dim lights glowing eerily in the distance, an armored Emerald trodding through the snow with fresh weapons and full belly beneath each torch as the long line headed towards their ultimate goal, the caverns.

At their lead was a skinny half-elf, wrapped in a black fur-lined coat that trailed quite dramatically behind him as he spearheaded their approach, strapped with a sword and bow, and sporting a smile so smug and cocky that one would expect him to claim himself a king for all the confidence that he held within him. And why not? Every last man and woman behind him and pledged their loyalty to his name, the name of a whoreson who was valued as less than nothing when he was born. Oh, if that Hag could see him now? He had a small army at his disposal! He had the town he hated so much groveling at his feet! And soon, Gella Rerra would lay claim to whatever ancient mystery lay hidden within these caverns.

The mouth of the cave, tucked against the side of the Spine itself, opened like a hungry maw seeking a meal. Jagged rocks hung down like teeth, seeming to dare any adventurer who thought themselves mighty enough to test themselves within. It was more than one that now lined up at its throat, standing by as Gella stepped away from the front of the line, his boots crunching against the snow as he walked down the row of Emeralds, looking over each and everyone to make sure they all had their equipment in order. All the while, he would shout, calling out so they could all hear him

"Today, we're going to walk into this cave as souls full of fire, seeking to become kings. When we leave, we will have obtained infamy for our actions today." He reaches down towards a dwarven emerald, drawing the short creature's sword from its sheath and shoving it into the dwarf's hands. "We go with weapons drawn! With bows, axes, and blades at the ready! You have all pledged loyalty to this cause, and you know what will happen to you if you attempt to go back on your word!" There was still blood staining his blade from a few unworthy who tried to run away from today's raid, their bodies lay on the streets of Osteriam in warning. "If you follow my orders, and don't make stupid mistakes, you will not die today! Now let's move! Into the caverns! In groups!"

But in the distance, more lights approached the entrance of the cave. These were not Emeralds, though there were just as many. The men and women of Osteriam had taken up arms on this day to fight back against the wretched group. From armored militia to retired miners with pickaxes and hammers, they rushed towards the Emeralds and the caves to make their final stand for their City. They'd done their best to make their plight known to travelers coming in, and some had indeed joined their ranks. Still, they were ill-equipped. They could only fight, for soon, the Emeralds would have no need of this town, or the citizens in it.

So it was that the Emeralds poured into the cave clambering down the rocky slopes leading down into the mountainous depths, jagged rock closing in from all sides as the cave would narrow, the only light to guide their path through the darkness. Gella led them, a crazed smile on his face as he practically smelled his fortune in the air. Behind them, the citizens of Osteriam would follow close behind, in hot pursuit of their oppressors. A sneak attack, perhaps?

Who knew what truly lay at the bottom of these caverns, or what horrors guarded it?​

 

[Jiroshina Tensho]

A whisp of smoke surrounded a group of emeralds, it spun upwards from the ground and then his form took shape. The men had gasped and one with an axe took a swing at him, the man found a blade in his gut. As the blood flowed to the ground dripping from the curved blade in his belly the man laughed maniacally. He wrenched the blade from its body, behind his red mask a long black tongue came out licking the blood from the blade, another emerald screamed out

"Gella you are going to want to see this!" Shouted one of the men

The figure made no attempt to continue the slaughter of the emeralds, the men moved into circle around the towering figure.

Jiro merely sat back on a natural ledge on the cave wall crossing his legs his long blood soaked blade resting in his lap, he toyed with the idea of taking the group of men into The Backwards, he always enjoyed watch the minds of those snap as they entered the horrid dimension in which he drew his power from. To see madness slowly set in as all they knew was lost. His patience began to wear thin. A dwarf threw his sword at Jiro as a rock hit the floor behind him scaring him into action, the sword stuck into the wall behind him it appeared to go through him but there was no sound of flesh or blood shadow and smoke swirled around the blade, Jiro was still in smoke form. He cocked his head back and sideways letting out a terrifying howl his black tongue falling below his mask. The man was dead? The dwarf moved closer to retrieve his sword, then suddenly Jiro moved his sword cutting the head off the dwarf. He cackled it echoed through the cavern "I tricked you, I tricked you!"

He pulled the dwarfs blade from the wall chucking it now the sword landing in the body which now had no head.

"Would anyone else like to play"

He waited patiently for their leader, the encirclement that was around him spread out cautiously

 

[Joia Three Fingers]

Jiroshina Tensho | Gella Rerra | Anyone else!

The stench of blood, sweat, and piss would meld with the damp earth of the cavern. With a grimace, Joia Three Fingers took a step over the fallen body of the dead dwarf, the echoing chant of "I tricked you!" from Jiroshina Tensho resonating around her.

There were those in the group that joined for riches. Others because they were forced or too afraid to get on Gella Rerra 's bad side. She was here because one way or another, Gella had a way of making things work out. He was mad, his emotions swung a wide pendulum, and a sense of morality that was practically non-existent. Yet the twisted child at heart had a knack of being able to round up the rest of the degenerates of Osteriam and those she'd grown up with to form the Jagged Emeralds. Between Gella and anyone else, Joia knew which way her bread was buttered. Sure, he was mad; but at least he was better than what they had before.

Taking a pouch from her hip, the half-elf took out a small vial, her right hand bearing only three fingers, her leather glove missing the ring and pinky finger. Sure, they already left a bloody wake, but her guttermage magic required tokens as a price. A bit of skin, a lock of hair, some spit, and whale oil. It was a coarse application to pay the price as per law; there was no Tower of Elbion here. What Joia had learned through her youth came from the pass down of hoodoo lore and experimentation. That's how she got her name; two of her fingers were victims of the experimental backlash, burning back flesh and leaving nothing but bone. Now she wore those knuckle bones around her neck. A good luck charm that she didn't lose the rest.

Ochre powder stained her dark fingers, bright orange against the dark ebony of her skin. With her knife, she slashed at the Dwarf's beard, taking its weathered length to tuck it within her belt. There is power on which was forbidden to be cut. If Gella wanted to punish Jiroshina Tensho for killing the Dwarfven emerald, that was up for the mad man to decide.

From behind her, she heard the grunt and cries of fighting, ahead of her, the deviled masked Jiro was beckoning anyone else to fight. Her attention, however, went beyond the depths of the cavern. She wasn't one to fight on the frontlines. She preferred the dark and from a distance.

"The'll be traps," she muttered, trying her best to discern what she could of the rocky crevices around them. It was good it was winter, she mused, her boots sliding across the thick layer of guano below.

"An critters lolling about."

 

[Patrik Fetladral]

Gella Rerra | Jiroshina Tensho | Joia Three Fingers

Patrik had been wandering the lands of the Spine and beyond for a while in the past few weeks. The wind, the snow, many of the new environmental challenges had been a pleasant surprise to a survivalist such as the human, mainly in the constant and harsh nature of their presence. Falwood had after all some cold winters but nothing like this. He kept his cloak close about him as he spied something ahead of him, some kind of activity that drew his eye. A mass of people, both those that looked like mercenaries armed with weapons and garbed in armor and common folk armed with much simpler, less marshal and possibly more improvised implements. What had Patrik stumbled onto? He trudged through the snow with a simple determination, he'd heard rumors of something resembling a crypt here. And while he wouldn't dare loot nor disturb the dead, he did wish to view its work and pay his respects as a traveler of these lands.

That's when the sounds caught his attention of shouting, screaming, what sounded like mad laughter, and much much more. Patrik cursed under his breath as he trudged forward a little faster. It would seem that someone here in this place was intent on fighting, and more than likely for what appeared to be no reason. He hoped that perhaps he could convince some of those here to see reason and logic, cease their violence, and hopefully cause no further needless pain and suffering. Even a hunter such as himself understood these principles, as he would always strive for clean kills and only what he needed. His fingers stung from the icy cold winds and the tips of his ears were numb as he trudged ever further. He was close enough to now hear various individual voices, but still probably too far to actually be noticed let alone address anyone here. That was unless someone happened to look in his direction as he wasn't trying to hide himself. That being said all of his gear save for his bow, which was currently unstrung, was under his cloak so at most they would see a hunched over unarmed traveler.

He prayed to whomever might be listening that he could hopefully save a few lives from folly this day.

 

[Farzad Oldsummer]

He crushed at the bridge of his nose with the same care of a parent.

A frustrated, but caring parent.​

He thought he had made it clear. Crystal clear. Like the skies at the tops of the mountain peaks. These mountain peaks. It was as clear as that was an analogy, which apparently wasn't because here he was, trailing along at the back. The two militiamen that had recruited him to the cause weren't here. Maybe they understood the analogy, maybe they understood they shouldn't have. Or better yet. They did something that so few in the world seemed capable of doing.

They listened.​

It was simple. Caves form via rivers or are manmade. Manmade caves have one entrance, better to defend and fight. Less confusing. Unless it was dwarfen make but if it was, this town would be different. Radical. Subtle, the ground would be a little flatter, a lot cleaner. The path here would've been maintained. Or at least by regular Dwarfen Standards. Or a river cave. Which was formed by a river. Now how a river was up here on a mountain, he couldn't deduce, so it stood that it was likely a Human Cave.

The second part got tricky. Blow up the mouth. A little bit of magic, a little bit of pizazz and maybe a little bit of fire. But an explosion nonetheless. 'Don't light a firework indoors' he thought, but lucky he was outside. And if he was to guess these bandits went in looking for lootable treasure not for a mining field trip. But was that heeded? Were those little things that hang off the side of most humans working? Apparently not.

Apparently.

Not.
​

So there he paced. Not a stride or with glibness to his movement, not a run, trot or bounce. But a pace, slowly and meticulously behind the people. Some had tattoos. He wished he didn't notice that part. The woman in front of him had an earing, it was large and looped, and read 'to my eternal' the rest was on the other side. He assumed love. They were lives in front of him. Ones that lived with a heartbeat, that had stories to tell children and that had memories to pass on. But the only passing was onto the next world, the only memories scarred into his mind to remind children of this day.

The day Farzad had to watch a massacre. Because like a child. They had to learn from their mistakes.

Farzad crushed the bridge of his nose. With the cursed care of a parent.​

 

[Azlat Ushus]

The troubled townsfolk were in need of help; she was well aware, yes. It wasn’t that Azlat could not see their plight. She simply did not care. And why should she? She did not travel for weeks upon weeks over gruelling distance and through such cold-blighted lands to come aid a bunch of derelicts. Why, she was undertaking this very ordeal for the glory of Thagretis. If these people hadn’t the strength or discipline to escape the thumb of their oppressors, they’d not borrow it from her.

These pitiful folk held onto gods who had clearly abandoned them, pleading for a turn of fortune that they could not deliver. Yet another illness upon them, for which their misfortune was truly only symptom of. To this end, she did provide help. She had told them about their gods, and of whom they truly ought to blame for their situation, and they cared not for honest truth. In desperation, some asked what she wanted of them in exchange for her aid; when she made mere mention of gold, the curses and shouts told her that these peasants had nothing to offer anyhow.

Were they of any merit, and if they had carried actual usefulness she might have come to an agreement to assist. But they clearly did not, and so she ventured forth and past the peasants. The emeralds were little better. The peasants were honest, trustworthy - though they lacked anything to offer. The emeralds had plenty to offer, and Azlat felt quite sure they had no intentions to follow through with honesty. What a miserable place. What a miserable existence.

None of that was cause for concern at the time, since the villagers appeared far too beaten down and unwilling to make anything beyond a verbal reprisal. One looked ready to advance on her with a cudgel before being taken aside and made to settle down, of all things. Those were people cowed, people lost. The same as the ones who came charging at their position with weapons brandished in hand and war shouts bellowed out, proving Azlat wrong in her former forecast.

And among them was the same woman with the cudgel. Looking directly towards her with a menacing glint in her eye. Well, Azlat was far from loyal to Gella Rerra, despite his long winded and pointless speech. He sure enjoyed hearing himself speak, and he was doubtless the only one. But clearly sides had been chosen, and given the verbal confrontation in the town (that she won, by the way~), her alliance was with the emeralds whether she cared for it or not. But she was only here for the treasure, not to fight. The ground could run red with the blood of both parties; so long as she could step over their dead bodies to confirm the hoard of gold, it mattered not. For the best that it didn't, for another figure showed himself through ambush and provided just the distraction she needed. While attention was upon Jiroshina, Azlat slipped away into the caverns below.

A woman, Joia, made mention of the expected perils they might find below. It was good to know someone had done some research and held some knowledge of the task, besides that long winded Gella.

“Both were obstacles encountered during the last expedition here?” She asked of her, her tone formal and dry. This was surely not the first venture made, much must have been attempted before Gella would dare trust such a ragtag of strangers to help him.

She knew he considered them expendable. Held no doubt that he would turn on them; but that would be his very downfall, wouldn't it? Such confidence and ego places one on a platform up high, and ever was it fun to watch their horror when they were cut back down.

Soon. Until then, she would play her part and act as a helpless adventurer for the egotistical fool.

 

[Urchin]

"If you follow my orders, and don't make stupid mistakes, you will not die today! Now let's move! Into the caverns! In groups!"

The lad took in a deep breath and breathed out a heavy sigh. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," he whispered under his breath as the horde of angry villagers approached. His face was white as a sheet and his hands trembled as he clutched a dagger in one hand and a small hatchet in the other. He'd tried for a sword when choosing weapons, but they had all proven so heavy that he could barely hold them upright. In battle they'd no doubt just weigh him down, so he'd taken the only weapons that he thought he could manage.

"What we gonna do?" he asked his fair haired companion who currently stood beside him. "I can't do this, Charity. I dun wanna kill nobody. I thought this was s'posed ta be a treasure hunt." As a two bit pickpocket, the lad didn't have much in the way of a moral conscious, but actually stabbing and hacking another person to death just... He didn't think he could do it. He'd never killed anybody, and he'd prefer to keep it that way. "What's say we slip away an' go explorin' the tunnels?" he asked hopefully. "Leave the big guys to the fightin'. It'll all be finished by the time we're done, an' in the meantime, we can find some nice, shiny loot. That aughta make the boss 'appy, right?"

 

[Yffry]

Desmene was not unsympathetic to the plight of the townsfolk. It was just that she was not a sword for hire. No matter how much skill she possessed with the blade - barely a fraction of her father's skill - it was her attitude that differed from Draedamyr.

She didn't use her blade to win accolades or honour or coin. It was simply for self defense. Her passion was in exploring the ruins of long lost civilisations.

She kept her distance from the angry mob as it marched after the criminal caravan. She regretted not slipping out of the town ahead of Gella and his retinue, but they had kept the place in tight lockdown.

Desmene followed the townsfolk on a parallel track. She wouldn't shy from a fight, but she wasn't going to start one or throw herself behind a cause. She would try and find a way to slip past the chaos and into the ruins to see them for herself.

If she could, she would stop them all from damaging anything of historical significance.

 

[Gella Rerra]

Gella Rerra was far from a fool; he spoke of bravery and loyalty to these Emeralds who served his plight without daring to question him, but he had no intention of risking his own life to prolong theirs. The formation he'd arranged for his men and women to split into seemed at first glance to be a wise strategic decision, one that would ensure any danger encountered would be faced with maximum resistance and minimal casualty. The Emeralds were divided into four groups: One group on point, two behind that group to the left and right, and one bringing up the rear. Those Emeralds who were new or who were considered most expendable by Gella were placed in the front group. The side groups were where any who could wield ranged weapons with considerable efficiency were assigned. The rear group was reserved for the heavy hitters, the most elite and seasoned of his crew; they would see everything going on ahead of them and disperse accordingly. It was quite an effective formation.

But there was a fifth group, smaller and more blatantly obvious in its placement. Gella had taken his most trusted few and pulled them to the center, protected on all sides by Emeralds. There were only about a dozen of them, and Gella allowed them to surround him completely; Even if every other Emerald died, Gella would be the last to taste death. He felt for them, really... but what did they expect? They knew exactly how Gella operated, and he made no attempt to hide his methods.

In truth, there was another he would have much preferred in his center group; Joia. Gella always called her Three-Fingers, which normally would have been an insult coming from Gella Rerra, but towards Joia, it was a rare term of endearment. The female half-elf had grown up in squalor not too dissimilar to Gella himself, and through her time at his side, she'd proven to be a very valuable partner. So much so, that Gella tended to offer her a bit more agency to do as she pleased within the group. She was loyal; he didn't need to worry that she would betray him, and that was a very rare level of trust coming from Rerra.

He didn't know exactly where Joia had ended up, but he had a guess. Last night she'd met that face-painted creep show of a woman, Azlat Ushus, he believed she'd called herself? The two of them had seemed to hit it off, well, at least they didn't seem to want to kill each other, which was rare for new recruits. He supposed there was more than a small chance they were together.

Surely they were doing better than Urchin and Charity Briarthorne. Charity seemed rather dependable in Gella's eyes, but Urchin had already gone pale at the Hag's Head before they'd departed, he could only imagine the sniveling mess he was now. What a brat, he wouldn't have let him tag along were it not for Charity's insistence. Gella still saw something in her, something he couldn't place...

There was no time for idle thought, however. Once the roof of the cave fully blocked out the sky, Gella already heard commotion ahead of him. What? Opposition this close towards the mouth? Somebody was calling his name, presumably an Emerald... He hoped the git got his throat slit. It wasn't Gella's job to look after them all like children. Still, after the brief bout of noise, there didn't seem any more violence. Looking ahead as two of his trusted few, Harrod and Oalrig, took up positions in front of him, he saw the odd creature standing encircled by his men. It was some sort of an abomonation, with bloodied blade and mask of horror, but all Gella could do as the group of fodder in front of him surrounded the strange being was sneer.

"Harrod, refresh my memory. How many Emeralds do we have here this morning?"

"125 strong, sir!"

"Right, and how many badly dressed gutter-bred half-wits are standing in our way?"

"Ah... just the one, by my count, sir!"

"That's what I thought, but I wondered if maybe I wasn't seeing things. Forward group close around the obstruction and contain! Side groups provide ranged cover in case of attack, while the rear splits and moves around this threat! We will not be slowed! Not by this fool!"

The entirety of the forward group began to surround Jiro, as the ranged side groups took aim at him, their bows, staffs, and crossbows speaking in silent warning that he'd best not strike. Behind Gella, the people of Osteriam had begun their attack, though they met stiff resistance in the form of Gella's most seasoned men and women stationed behind him. Still... he didn't think they were here for the treasures of this cave. They just wanted to stop the Emeralds. Gella could use that to his advantage. Turning back towards Jiro, he smiled, a sick, sinister idea coming to his mind.

"Rear group, break away from the rabble!" Gella barked. "If they want to fight us, lead them further in to do it on our terms! Use the side groups for cover!"

The Osteriam Militia was weak, but rowdy and determined. He couldn't take too many of these risks with them, especially considering some of the travelers he knew to have been recruited by them. There were powerful folk among their ranks, waiting for a clear shot. He would ensure they got no such opportunity...

Behind Jiro, the caverns began to narrow. Surely once they passed this first test, the descent into the trecherous, cavernous depths would begin. This formation wouldn't work in the snug Osteriam caves, but by then Gella planned to be well ahead of the game...

CLICK TO SHOW ROUGH DIAGRAM OF CURRENT FORMATION

​

Jiroshina Tensho
Azlat Ushus
Urchin
Charity Briarthorne
Joia Three Fingers
Desmene
Farzad Oldsummer
Patrik Fetladral

 

[Jiroshina Tensho]

Jiro stood still in the the middle of the men that encircled him, he waited patiently looking over the crowd he saw the formations form to the left and to the right of him, he could only help but laugh. His terrible laugh echoed in the caverns, the laugh of someone who had a terrible inside joke only known to themselves. His cackle sent chills down the spines of the men about him. These lowly little fools, he could set fire to their very lungs, he could suffocated them with smoke. Jiro could possess them by crawling inside their very bodies and use them as puppets, these were weaklings deserving of the title fodder. Again The
Backwards called him, the voices began to fill his head. They wanted this to be the end of him, they wanted final payment for his contract, for the power The Backwards had bestowed on him, they wanted his life.

Jiros mood swang wildly his claw like fingernails digging into the flesh by his ears, his blood black dripping down the sides. He became enraged, thousands of grim voices echoed in his head repeating over and over.

The Price!, The Price!, The Price!

Jiro screamed out suddenly.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

He leaned down screaming at the men before him.

"SHUT UP!"


The men in front of him were startled to say the least, that's when it began. Jiro locked eyes with one of the men, the man stared back, not to prove he was tough, because he was so startled he didn't know what to do other then stare back into the red eyes behind the mask.

"Stop looking at me!" Jiro roared in a hoarse booming voice.

His powerful arm lashed out at the man catching im on the side of the face, his claws rending the flesh from the man's face his eyes pulled from its socket and the claws ripped trough his cheek and the muscles of his jaw ripping half of it from him his neck spun round looking to the men behind him.

He did not intend to fight the emeralds at first. He merely wanted to parlay with their leader, but as it was with all the mad. Things did not always go as planned. He moved on to the next man, then the next. One came at him with an axe he grabbed the man's wrist and then bent his arm back, a sickening rip of flesh and crack of bone was heard the man screamed out as his arm dangled, he passed out due to pure shock. Jiro screamed with bloodlust. Ranged attacks came his way, he grabbed a man by his throat and used him as a shield. The arrows and bolts sticking into the man's body, another volley, again he used his meat shield, three men came behind him one stuck a knife in his shoulder. He turned with his long curved blade slicing through several men he pulled the knife from his back the frightened unarmed emerald stood there shaking seeing the red eyes behind the mask glow with rage, piss ran down his legs. Jiro slammed the knife through the man's eye straight to his brain.

Jiro laughed, that God damned laugh. He enjoyed the bloodshed, it was a game to him. He picked up another man shoving his clawed fingers through the flesh and muscle of his neck, another volley, a new meatshield.

His eyes locked with Joia's, he made no attempt at her, he merely went back to his carving of flesh. A smoke began to form around the group of men and it began to grow thicker and thicker, now those who were using ranged weapons could no longer see Jiro or anyone else who had been in the inital group of fodder that surrounded him, still screams could be heard over and over.

Azlat Ushus
Urchin
Charity Briarthorne
Joia Three Fingers
Desmene
Farzad Oldsummer
Patrik Fetladral
Gella Rerra

 

[Farzad Oldsummer]

The mouth of the cave felt like the great maw of a beast, minuscule stalagmites and stalactites running the length until even the light of the world was consumed in its filtered maw. Farzad remained at the back. Slowly pacing as the crowd's rabble had the intensity of reality start to weigh down on their shoulders. A few tried to back out, but the energy had a way of pulling them back in. The sweep of multitudes of people fighting for what scraps this town had dragged them back in. Like a crab trapped in a bowl, no person was allowed to escape.

Farzad inhaled deeply as he came to the cavern.
​

He could hear it starting to break. The men and women breaking into ill-fated sprints their makeshift and shackle weapons running high. He could see the blades glisten, the colour of rust breaking in one last strike pose before the sunlight feigned and winced lucky to not witness it all.

He inhaled again.
​

It was soft. Like the opening to music, a single sharp pitched note to draw the attention of everyone on the stage. The reverberation of steel clashing against steel, except the rusted blade put up a little too bravado and not enough falsetto and as that song met its peak, Farzad's eyes shimmered with a strange colour, hidden beneath his oversized hat yet accentuated by his three folded bandanna of different colours and glyphs. The heel of his quarterstaff tapping the ground three times in quick succession before making the purchase a fourth time, vaulting like an Olympic athlete over the crowd and assisted by a small sliver of magic. It wasn't a lot, but the minute he came into the mouth of the cave one of the multitude of sashes seemed to splendour a little more than the other motley strips of fabric. And as he reached his peak, he got a slightly better view of the massed forces. He wasn't glad but he was right. This was going to be a slaughter.

 

[Joia Three Fingers]

Gella Rerra Charity Briarthorne Farzad Oldsummer Jiroshina Tensho Azlat Ushus Urchin Desmene Patrik Fetladral Sorry for the delay work slammed!

“Both were obstacles encountered during the last expedition here?”

Joia's eyes would glitter with a wicked grin, those bright pearly white teeth flashing against the dark contrast of her midnight skin. Turning towards the older woman, an eyebrow would arch high and she'd utter out in her gutteral rasp, "More one dhan da other. Traps can be discerned; critters... well, dha more dhat one causes a fury, dha more dhem critters will stir for dher own matters."

It was as much of a word of caution as she would give to the painted woman, nodding at how Jiro only managed to stir more attention. Wanted and unwanted alike. By then, Gella's command had run the ranks. By happenstance, their group lay in position at the left (side group b) and the call for cover fire in the event of attack made it clear what had to be done. In the midst of it, even within the dim glow of the cavern illuminated by torch, she caught that mad look in his eyes. One she'd seen many a time before.

Dhem gears be turnin'. What new folly had dha man thought of now? There was no time to interrupt or interfere. By now Joia was well aware how Gella worked. All she could do was give him the advantage to see.

"Blood ahn bone, spit ahn piss," the half-elf muttered, reaching down to grab a handful of guano. Its thick, tar-like mess clung to her fingers, stunk of weeks old piss, and glittered with white globs of fresh excrement. The bright orange ochre along her fingers melded into the sticky mess. A nasally hack of phelm joined the wad of guano, as did the sudden pluck of the dead Dwarven's left eye from the severed head that laid at their feet. Three bloody fingers dug like claws right into the ocular cavity, blood dripping a dark trail as they took the bloody, white sphere.

"Smoke ahn shadow, blind ahn dahrk," the call of magic from the gutter mage, her eyes drawing a strange, etheral emerald glow. Power ran through her, a blood price paid and patchworked together to cast her spell.

"Give dhem eyes o wyldfyre," she chanted, the rasp of her voice thick enough to send a shiver along the spine.

Magic would shrivel up the Dwarven eye and a green flame burst to life upon the bed of guano held oozing within her palm. At the same time, those within her group and just past a few meters, Gella included, would find their eyes begin to glow the same bright emerald that mirrored Joia Three Fingers' own.

"Flush out dha dahrk." a ripple of power shot out like a wave, with Joia in the middle. Those closest to her would have the ability to see through the smoke summoned by Jiro. Yet the further away one stood from her, the harder it would become to see; for magic had its bounds and limits. It would allow the group of Emeralds near her to use their ranged weapons and strike true from a distance, seeing through that fog of smoke.

With everything, magic had a limit. Should she remain able to sustain it, she might need some additional... tributes to pay. At least she had the Dwarven's severed head. The fellow Emerald’s death would not be in vain.

Twas as good of a send-off as Joia could give.

 

[Patrik Fetladral]

Gella Rerra | Joia Three Fingers | Charity Briarthorne | Farzad Oldsummer | Jiroshina Tensho | Azlat Ushus | Urchin | Desmene

As the first cries of battle were heard by Patrik, he knew he was far too late to try and stop the people's mad attempt to stop the other group. And they were just mere townsfolk, nothing even close to how well armed, trained and otherwise prepared the mercenaries were. This combined with a flurry of arrows flying at something, Patrik knew that trying to stop any of them would be pure folly. He'd either die by a stray arrow, errant blade, or a pitchfork by some farmer. The only hope he had of salvaging this, was by taking the object of these mercenaries' attention away from here, far away and hope that they would not turn about and slaughter the remaining townsfolk as they would most certainly route and run. He had to give them something to chase. He sighed as he dropped his pack and began attaching various pieces of equipment where it should be over his cloak. He stashed the pack in a recognizable set of rocks that he knew to remember, and strung his bow. No doubt he'd have to go inside, face whatever traps, horrors, and other defenses of this tomb to stop this petty bloodshed. It would take everything he had to pull this off more than likely, and more than likely the others here wouldn't take too kindly to someone trying to swoop in and take some bauble from them.

And to make matters worse, Patrik didn't even know what he was looking for.

He couldn't waste anymore time however, as a black smoke began to rise, screaming, shouting, and arrows flying letting him know that it wouldn't be long. He had only a single opening and he had to take it. He tied a piece of cloth over his mouth and nose in case the smoke was poisoned, but once done he ran forward. The large man now bounded through the snow, skirting the edge of the violence behind the Emerald formation, and trying to keep the big demon looking thing to his left. If Jiroshina Tensho were to attack him, he knew he'd have only seconds to dodge, but if he could lure him away from the mercenaries he was currently slaughtering like cattle, a few precious lives could be saved. He had to be guarding this cave for him to be attacking others trying to enter it. Right? There couldn't be any other explanation. And while he couldn't see as well as the Emeralds with this magic aura flowing from a mysterious figure, he knew the direction he was headed, and could use his other senses to make up. It was like seeing at night, or through a fire except this smoke didn't sting his eyes. Many strange magics were at play here and Patrik knew better than to stop and try to figure each of them. The chaos of the situation was giving him an opening, and as he weaved through the several people that came in his way, the massive man would maneuver past each with the grace of someone raised in Falwood. His father had taught him how to run like this well, he just had to picture the men and women before him like moving trees or animals. And as he ran through the crowd he shouted at the demonic figure (Jiroshina Tensho ).

"OI! UGLY! OVER HERE!"

He'd just made himself a nice big piece of bait to lure the demon away. He hoped he wouldn't overly regret that in the next few seconds.

 

[Azlat Ushus]

"More one dhan da other. Traps can be discerned; critters... well, dha more dhat one causes a fury, dha more dhem critters will stir for dher own matters."

She nodded. Joia seemed to have few qualms at the presence of traps, while Azlat had been rather apprehensive. Sure, she knew simple devices were traps, and even often used. She also knew of the traps back home, and those were truly deadly devices. Not that this boorish society could even hope to come close to matching their magnificent handiwork, but the term brought worry to her mind. Where she held ignorance, however Joia held wisdom, and there was comfort in that. Better to keep close to one who knew what she was doing.

And hopefully that ruckus would come to an end. It had been good for getting away from that cudgel-wielding madwoman, but Joia spoke truth; it was bound to get them killed now.

Now, payment of arcane cost through bodily fluids were far from a foreign concept to the priestess, payment through blood was a common price for her brand of divine magic. Azlat’s in particular was a highly valued magical payment, as she was among the Dragon Blooded of Thagretis. Not that the prestige carried the faintest of recognition before the barbarians of the northern continents – it merely made her freak and curiosity to these imbeciles. But she was alone here and had no choice but to suffer such foolishness, much as she’d rather cut out their tongues and thread them into a necklace for their words.

Joia had been much more pleasant about it. From her lips, there were no stupid remarks like the others, no such strange looks or idiotic expressions. After suffering this strange land for so long, it was refreshing.

Azlat used her own blood and flesh, while the resourceful Joia turned to that pilfered from others. It was far from holy; but was it ever resourceful. There was no envy – Azlat wouldn’t allow herself that view; it would be a great sacrilege to the Holy Elder Dragon and His marvellous gift that coursed through her veins. She was however, completely enamoured with it, and the means through which Joia used other bodily fluids in her incantations. Urine, phlegm, feces and plenty else; she hadn’t seen anything like it. Though that and her distinct unwashed odour seemed to keep the others at bay, but the smell was easier to bear than the other’s company. If anything, it was a benefit.

With short bow in one hand and an arrow in her other, she looked on curiously as Joia rolled around the guano in her hand. Azlat could only wonder at what effects would be brought, the results of gutter magic too new for her to know what to expect. But the price was familiar, as was the format of her magic. It seemed more like true magic to her, given her own divine definition of the subject.

Upon the incantation’s conclusion, Azlat saw much more in clear detail. Smoke wafted away, and her draconic eyes became able to see far. She raised her arms, and nocked an arrow into the recurve bow while peering into the distance.

Off towards the entrance of the cave was that villager with the cudgel, searching the smoke and darkness with her primitive and unaided eyes. Jiroshino hadn't even enabled her complete escape from her, she would have to apparently do that herself. And so she did; Azlat held her aim, waiting for the woman to hold still before she loosed her arrow with a twang.

Her target noticed nothing until the steel arrowhead bit into flesh, striking her upon the shoulder of her weapon wielding arm. She dropped the cudgel to the cavern floor with a clatter as she bellowed out a howl of pain, a sly grin worn on Azlat’s dark painted lips.

There’d be no further trouble from her. One problem down, but there remained plenty more to handle.

 

[Yffry]

The criminals had come out in force. It present a myriad of challenges for the elven ruin hunter. First of all she had to get past them. That could happen beyond the ruins whilst they were distracted or she would have to find a route past them underground.

If she wanted to do more than observe and document, to remove something from the ruins, then she would have more problems. Trying to get anything out past this gaggle of morons would be almost impossible. She didn't have enough coin to barter. If she returned with help to prise treasures from their grubby little hands it would take so long that anything of value would have been traded away.

Desmene slowed as she heard orders being shouted out. The emeralds were fanning out, blocking the villagers and surrounding some commotion ahead of them.

"Oi!"

"Shit," Desmene muttered.

Desmene turned to see a crossbow pointed in her direction.

"Gella said no looters!" called the emerald.

"The irony."

"What?"

 

[Charity Briarthorne]

Charity sighed as Urchin began panicking at the approach of the villagers. She really should have seen this coming. "Damn it kid! Get a hold of yourself! Just stay with me and you won't have to kill anyone." She studied Urchin for a moment before yanking the hatchet out of his hand and sticking the handle through her belt. The brat could barely handle one weapon. With two he would be next to useless. "Only fight if you have no other choice."

Since they were newcomers, Charity and Urchin were lucky enough to be stuck in the front group. This good fortune continued as a psychotic smoke demon appeared and beheaded a dwarf. Charity was taken aback as he began screaming for people to be quiet. She looked at the others around her in confusion and received similar looks in return. The group was completely silent. Who was he shouting at?

Charity pushed Urchin behind her as the man began cutting his way through the Emeralds. The sound of screaming filled the air around them. When a thick cloud of smoke surrounded them, Charity grabbed Urchin's hand and held it tightly.

Another figure appeared, taunting the mysterious smoke man in an attempt to lead him away. Charity hesitated at first, unsure whether or not to follow them. Sh3e could join one of the other groups and be safe, or... Charity had made up her mind.

"C'mon! We're going after them!" Charity said, pulling Urchin along with her. If fighting the smoke man didn't work out, they could always sneak off to look for treasure.

 

[Urchin]

"Damn it kid! Get a hold of yourself! Just stay with me and you won't have to kill anyone."

"Right," Urchin said with a nod, but he certainly didn't feel any better. He was still nautious, with a sinking feeling in his stomach that something terrible was going to happen and all he could do was walk towards it. Gods, he wished he was more like Charity. She was completely fearless. She knew that there was nothing in her path that she couldn't handle. Why couldn't he be like that? He was a boy, after all. Boys were supposed to be brave, damn it!

Suddenly, Charity took away the hatchet that he had been holding. "Hey, I need that!" he objected, "What if I gotta hack summin? Ain't got nuthin' else ta hack with." Charity, on the other hand, knew the boy better, and knew that with his particular skills (or lack thereof) it would be better for him to focus all his attention on one weapon than fumble around with two.

Just then, the lad saw the strangest thing in front of him. Some kind of insane, masked smoke monster. "Charity... The fuck is that?" he asked nervously, freezing in his tracks. He tried to calm himself by taking some deep breaths, but that went to hell when the creature started attacking everyone that drew close and completely obliterating it. Urchin could only stare at the creature like a deer in the headlights, hoping that he and Charity weren't next.

Luckily, some poor, brave fool decided to take it upon himself to lure the monster away. That was a relief. Urchin wouldn't have to... Oh, fuck! What was Charity doing now? "We're what?" Urchin asked, completely stunned as Charity pulled him along. "We're goin' after the crazy smoke monster? The crazy smoke monster that kills folks? Ya dun think that maybe, just maybe, we should be runnin' away from the crazy smoke monster?" Yet despite his objections and his fear, the boy still followed. However much of a coward he might be on the surface, there was some bravery hidden deep down in his little soul. Specifically, the only thing he could think of that was worse than getting ripped apart by a crazy smoke monster was standing back and doing nothing while Charity was ripped apart by the crazy smoke monster.

 

[Gella Rerra]

It didn't take long for things to devolve into chaos and pandemonium, did it? Gella knew his hopes to contain whatever this bloodthirsty lunatic of a creature was were fragile at the very least, but now the damned thing was hacking away at his frontmost group. Sure, they were all intended to be fodder, but if they were all slain then that left Gella wide open. Gella didn't give a damn about anything besides getting past this overgrown child throwing a bloody tantrum and getting into the dark throat of the cavern. Even now with the sounds of battle surrounding him at all sides, all he could think about was what waited for him at the bottom of this cavern. This... this was only the first obstacle.

Side Group B was moving quickly and skillfully into position, just outside of the raging Jiro's reach with ranged attacks at the ready. Side Group A was moving considerably slower; several bodies had been tossed in that direction, taking out a few men and hampering their progress. Even so, the initiative that B was showing led him to believe that it was where Three-Fingers had ended up. He smelled it in the air, that pressure that came with her magics. If there was one thing he cared about besides himself, it was Joia. Hopefully, she stayed out of trouble.

The fighting behind him was so thick that he couldn't tell if the Osteriam Militia was making any headway or not; he'd ordered the rear to push forward and leave them, yet the fact that some remained locked in combat against their will spoke to the tenacity of those angry little pests. Psh, she should have thinned them out years ago, and he was willing to bet there were some of those travelers trying to help them. Almost as soon as he'd completed the thought, several townspeople broke through the rear line as they split and headed up the sides, the sight of the Emerald leader ripe for the picking lighting fires in their bellies, no doubt.

Gella had chosen the few that surrounded him well, however. Harrod and Jakee sprung into action behind him as he took a step back to let his guardians handle the rabble approaching him. Suddenly a shout echoed across the walls of the cave, one of a man, and not one that Rerra recognized as one of his own.


"OI! UGLY! OVER HERE!"

Whoever it was had quite a set of pipes on them. It would certainly get Jiro's attention, especially in a state so volatile. This was it, the opening he'd been hoping for. The remaining two guardians he'd kept with him at the center, an elf named Ruezin and Oalrig, the orc who'd helped him round up his new crew the previous day, looked at him expecting orders.

Gella wore an impish grin.

"The two of you join Harrod and Jakee. Kill every one of those Osteriam scum that tries to get inside. The four of you should suffice."

"What about you?" Ruezin narrowed his eyes.

"I'm going to make a break for it. While his attention is drawn. Now go!"

The two of them reluctantly looked at one another, before eventually shrugging and rushing to the aid of Harrod and Jakee. The Osteriam people would now face four of the strongest Emeralds there were. Harrod was human, skilled in swordsmanship. Ruezin utilized throwing knives like no other. Oalrig was a mighty orc with an equally intimidating hammer, and Jakee was firing spells, body hidden under a cloak.

Gella charged, looping to sprint through Side Group B. His assumption proved correct; Joia's magic cleared the smoke from his vision as he drew closer. He couldn't make her out, but he knew she'd be fine. That girl knew how to take care of herself. The stranger had shouted from closer to the other side, near A. That means that Gella could sneak around behind the maddened fool if he was quick enough. The rear group had mostly shifted to moving around Jiro from the sides as well, a small group now gathering behind the beast awaiting direction from their leader. The only oppositions that the Osteriam people faced now were a few stragglers and the four elite.

"Side Groups ready weapons to hit the bastard if he makes a move!"

Gella was nearly behind Jiro now. If he could make it to the group of warriors who'd come from the rear, he'd have protection...

Charity Briarthorne Urchin
Desmene Patrik Fetladral
Joia Three Fingers Azlat Ushus
Jiroshina Tensho Farzad Oldsummer
​

 

[Jiroshina Tensho]

As the man called out to him and ran passed him he heard the taunt. In his maddened state with his state the blood lust clouded his judgement. As he continued to cut into the emeralds, he swung at Patrik Fetladral his large curved sword cutting hairs from his head as the man ducked just in time to avoid beheading. Jiro turned to follow the man to run after him, that is when he felt a sting in his back, an arrow plunged into his flesh next to where the knife had entered before. This distracted him from the man that bolted past, another arrow into his shoulder, a bolt into his leg.

Jiro reached out and grabbed another man shielding himself from another volley of arrows and bolts. The grim voices in his head continued to chant about the gods damned price. If it was death The Backwards wanted he would give it more and more.

Just as suddenly as he appeared he vanished, all the smoke that surrounded him, all those in his immediate are were gone, the only trace that anything had happened was the blood that stained the floor and the walls of the cavern.

Those unfortunate enough to be left alive among the troop of emeralds would now find that they were bathed in red light, the walls of the cave were seen now as dark shifting smoke, an emerald backed up in shock and found that the black mist of the cave wall was quiet solid, two emeralds ran for the mouth of the cave, where to their horror they saw a mirror image of what they had just left however everything was made of thick black mist solid as it had been in their reality. However, this was not their plane of existence this was The Backwards.

A large shadow like creature pounced on the men, long shadow like tentacle arms grabbed the men and crushed the life from them then great shadowy maw opened ripping them apart feeding upon them.

Jiro calmed now his breathing slowed, smaller creatures that looked like the larger one moved into the shadow cave and dragged out wounded emeralds that were subject into this dimension. The emeralds screamed in horror and then their screams abruptly stopped, the smaller creatures made no attempt at those who were unwounded.

Thousands of grim voices chanted now for any who were here to hear not just Jiro now.

"A PRICE IS PAID, A PRICE IS PAID, A PRICE IS PAID"

Jiro removed the arrows and the bolts from his body, his wounds began to slowly heal, he turned now behind him and looked to Gella.

"Perhaps now we may speak?"

He looked down at the half Elf

"Perhaps we can be friends now, yes?"

"I apologize for such a display, but for all men of power, it is usually necessary, power respects power, no?"

"I wish to aid you. I only ask one thing, there is an item of great importance to me, I wish to have it, a knife. To you it would be useless, but to me, it is everything"

"I could hold back the rabble that chases you, give you time, time for a useless little knife"

His red eyes glowed as he looked into Gellas

"What do you say? Do we have a deal?"

He held out a clawed hand

Charity Briarthorne Gella Rerra Farzad Oldsummer Azlat Ushus Urchin Joia Three Fingers Desmene Patrik Fetladral Farzad Oldsummer

 

[Joia Three Fingers]

Gella Rerra Charity Briarthorne Farzad Oldsummer Jiroshina Tensho Azlat Ushus Urchin Desmene Patrik Fetladral Sorry for the delay work slammed!

Chaos bred chaos.

The air was thick with blood, sweat, shit and, piss.

Battles were never pretty. Those who were too scared to fight or had fled for their lives met one of two ends - dead or wetting themselves. Add to it the commotion that stirred by Jiroshina Tensho, things were bound to get ugly.

It was a scene fit to distort the senses. Truth be told, Joia Three Fingers wasn't sure just what was a play of the mind or what be done by a twist of magic. The raw essence of it was thick in the air, enough for one to suffocate in it.

None the less, as the voices chanted a price was paid for this much use of magic. Narrowing ethereal green eyes, Joia's upper lip went curling up much like a hound in warning as Jiro crept closer to Gella. She did not trust him. Nor did she approve of how close the bloody lunatic went towards the Emerald leader.

Squeezing the glob of spit, guano, and the remainder of that husk of an eye in her hand, the Half-elf, bent down, this time taking the Dwarf's decapitated head in hand. The magic that allowed those near her to see through the smoke dissipated, her concentration broken by another task.

"Eye for eye, tooth for tooth," she chanted, summoning a patch work of magic that used the blood spilled as a price, the flesh shriveling over the skull of the head she held by the hair. That thick swarm of went weaving to and fro, cycling through between herself and Gella, shrouding him in a cloud of miasma that connected the pair.

"Flesh for flesh. Pound for pound. What strikes be mine, my blood be spilled." while she couldn't quite shield Gella if anything were to occur, she would do what she did best.

Take whatever damage dealt for him instead.

 

[Patrik Fetladral]

Gella Rerra | Joia Three Fingers | Charity Briarthorne | Farzad Oldsummer | Jiroshina Tensho | Azlat Ushus | Urchin | Desmene

Patrik could have seen the consequences of his actions from a mile away. He could almost feel the thing's gaze on him as he ran and barely had time to react when he saw the shape of a wicked blade coming for his head. His body moved on instinct, tucking itself forward and rolling onto the ground with a quick somersault to his feet as he pumped his arms to try and put some distance between himself and everyone else around him. The people around him were in a very clear and present danger the longer that thing was still around and he had to get it away from them.

And then all hell really broke loose.

Shadows would erupt around him as massive creatures would suddenly appear and beset those around him as they were dragged away kicking and screaming. No. Nonono. This couldn't be happening. He had to stop it. He had to do something. His first instinct was to go to his dagger but by the time he pulled it he could see that it was far, far too late to save any of these souls. Their fates had been sealed, which meant that he had to stop the thing at its source. He had to keep him from harming anyone else. And as the shadows receded his ears picked up the voice, no longer crazed, no longer animalistic, no longer primal. It was intelligent, malevolent. Patrik wouldn't let it have another life. He did an about face at the entrance of the cave with his bow in hand.

"You.... you monster, they stood no true threat to you and you slaughtered them needlessly like animals!"

His other hand went for an arrow, knocking it with practiced ease and precision, as he took aim at the thing's center of mass.

"You killed them like someone steps on insects! I will not let you harm another soul,"

Patrik was feeling a myriad of emotions now. Most prevalent, being his rage and sorrow. This thing was a perversion of nature, killing and destroying others without a second thought. It had to be stopped. While this thing lived it would only cause death and destruction. And that went against everything he stood for and believed.

 

[Azlat Ushus]

The scene around her was rapidly descending into chaos, and Joia’s magic afforded the priestess a clear view of the smoky entity at the centre of it all. Despite the intimidating display, fear had clearly not been struck into the hearts of all; Charity and Urchin moved towards him of all things, and Patrik Fetladral issued a challenge through a taunt. The older warrior was a new sight; she would have thought him to be among the townfolk’s militia were he not fighting the same demonic assailant that was tearing through the Emeralds. In the midst of battle it could be difficult to determine friend from foe, and this fight had already well past such a point.

Though she had another arrow nocked and ready, Azlat hesitated to loose it. Shooting that townswoman had been prudent enough. Not that any others in the town had shown her the slightest bit of fondness, but that one had clear and hostile intent. Another villager would catch her eye though, a young sword wielding man sprinting forth towards the target she had just taken down. He knelt down once he reached her, and upon a brief moment was looking towards Azlat with a similar look of hostility on his face. So it seemed she would have to shoot him as well.

With that, she took aim at him and pulled the nocked arrow back taught against the bowstring. Yet before she could loose her arrow the effect of Joia’s magic came to an unexpected end. The bow released tension with another twang and the arrow flew off into the darkness, unable to be tracked by sight as the last one had. But the pained howl that followed matched that of the madwoman she had shot before, and had apparently shot again.

Jiroshina continued to approach, and while Azlat could not see what was occurring, she sensed an otherworldly presence. Much as the brave Patrik, and perhaps even inspired by his display, she would remain without fear. She was here on holy business, specifically in search of a tribute fitting of the Holy Elder Dragon. Her life remained ever devoted to Him, and she remained of steadfast faith that she’d have His protection on this endeavour.

She stood at the ready with another arrow already pulled from her quiver, although it had yet to be nocked. While Jiroshina was clearly no friend to the Emeralds, much the same could be said of her. She truly only cared for the horde of gold she believed was beneath the city – to her, all others were merely obstacle to obtaining it. And lo, the smoke-wafting entity was making his way towards Gella! Azlat relaxed her bow and loosened her arrow at the revelation; she held no loyalty to the man. Quite the opposite, to see him dead would remove a difficult such obstacle from the way of her holy task.

But when Jiroshina reached him, he offered not hostility, but merely words. Such a disappointment it was; this fiend had been busily killing plenty of Emeralds yet spared Gella such a shared fate. Rather, he too wished for a share in the offered treasure.

She knew not what to make of it. She took a look around her, though she was no longer able to view the scene around her. Nor could any view her, undoubtedly. Which was for the best, as Joia would be spared the stupefying expression of her painted face.

Such selflessness, and all for a mortal man? Azlat couldn’t understand why. Perhaps this was why the Holy Elder Dragon had graced the northern lands, such that these fools could know of something actually divine to place their faith in. Not that many took the opportunity, but these northerners at least knew of a true divine now.

Azlat slunk back. She could simply put an arrow in Joia’s head, so that Gella would be without protection should a mortal blow be doled unto him. But that would kill Joia. It was one matter if she met her end as a result of her own decision, but the idea of being the cause of it bid forth a feeling of disgust. Not that she’d dare put the life of a nonbeliever before her holy task.

Just....well there were plenty of other idiots around far more deserving of death than Joia. Why could they not perish? It wasn’t her fault she was so foolishly loyal. She’d had a difficult life and had to reach for something, and Gella was surely just there. And with that devilish charm and handsome features, well perhaps Azlat herself might've made the same mistake, were she younger and more naive (and further absent her glorious religion). And surely, when all was said and done Joia would accept and take solace in the Holy Elder Dragon’s glory, too. Or so Azlat hoped.

Unwilling to so much as injure her friend, shoot Gella in front of her, or even engage Jiroshina as Patrik was continuing to do: Azlat simply slunk back into the cave under the cover of smoke and darkness. Perhaps once she had moved far enough away, her draconic eyes would be able to see unobscured. Until then, she simply took step after quiet step deeper into the caverns.

 

[Farzad Oldsummer]

The air grew thick with the must of smoke and billows, the winds caught on the sound as blades clashed the skill being matched by pure tenacity and numbers supplemented on growing corpses. His vision may be hazy but Farzad had seen warfare before and knew all too well the sound of death all around him. He was quickly beginning to regret signing up for this job all he ever wanted was to peruse their newly open library.

And he couldn't do that as a mounting corpse.
​

Slowly the smoke grew thicker, his senses dulled by the pounds of weight. He was a little short to see a sword swing through the air, kicking at him only to get entangled by a few thickets of cloth. He was quick to react, snapping his quarterstaff up to the chest and running him forward. The place was invisible and it worked just as well against them as it did him. It was only a few seconds before he ran the man into another, a sword lodging itself aggressively into the nape of his would-be attacker's neck and rolling the quarterstaff to a chin t throw him down the rest of the way. What little of the sword he saw flashed silver, and the militia and rabble struggled to develop much in the way of proper equipment. With a second motion, he planted his quarterstaff into the dying man's chest, rotating with it like a monkey to a tree and snapping his foot into the man's cheek rolling him to the ground before dissipating back into the shadows.

What was strange. Was arrows were still flying.
​

He could only assume they didn't care too much for the casualties and only the taste of victory paired with gold, jewel and riches. It was quick that another arrow missed him by a hair. It almost dissuaded his worries before he heard the purchase someone choked and gargled on a freshly flung arrow only to be forgotten quickly by the en masse rabble. If they could fire arrows freely and Farzad couldn't at least magic his way into stopping it. There was a quickly amassing problem and one tenacity he was sure couldn't fix.

Farzad's fingers stumbled along his body, touching and shifting through his pockets and pouches rather quickly before finding purchase with a scroll. So far he had done a mediocre job at keeping his magic hidden. A boost of speed a... Oh. Just a burst of speed was all he could remember. Well, that's nice.

​

He was about to ruin it.

He placed a scroll on the ground.
​

Glyphs and magic erupted.
​

"Bel Junarude Vicinio"
​

It was quick. Like the striking of lightning. Unlike the movement of a sloth. The ground before him slowly upturned, cracked and creaked before a mass of thorns and brambles erupted from the ground from each side of the mouth and partially along its walls, heavy vine work rasped and twisted crawling along the legs of anyone unfortunate enough to get entangled. It wasn't wide, only a few feet, with sprinkles of random thickets, interspersed inwards and outwards from its mother's root, catching and clawing at the legs of foe and friend alike they were quick to dig and bite into their foes flesh with armour only making it worse as it formed and turned underneath it. It wasn't perfect. It would do little to stop archers from repositioning but it would slow down the villagers. That's what he needed to do.

He needed to let the mobsters deeper into the cavern. He needed distance.

He needed the village folk to give up.​

 

[Gella Rerra]

Gella didn't dare look back as he rushed towards the throat of the cave with all the frenzy of a man running for his life. He didn't need to see, though. His pointed ears heard the unadulterated bedlam erupting behind him even as he passed through the shoulders of his men waiting behind whatever this gargantuan brute was; screams, cries, the sound of bone breaking and flesh tearing...

Good. If they kept the damned thing away from him, they were doing their damned jobs. It wasn't as though he couldn't get more men to follow a promise of riches with a silver tongue and a coy wink. People believed Gella when he spoke because they knew what would happen if they didn't believe him. That was the kind of power that he harbored...

But even a man as powerful as him felt terror in his heart at the scene he bore witness to when he finally turned around, safely behind what few of his men had made it around Jiro with all their limbs still attached. It was like something out of a campfire story, creatures of pure shadow leaking from the dimly lit walls of the cave. Thick red mists filled the air, whether blood or fog he didn't know, and didn't care to find out.

"What the fuck is this thing? Where the hell did it come from?"

The group of a couple dozen loyal men and women who had made the trip around the sides to meet him behind Jiro were standing firm in front of Gella, protecting their leader as he'd ordered. He still didn't see Joia, or that creepy Azlat woman anywhere, but then it was hard to see anything in the chaos filling every inch of the wretched cave that had been turned into a hive of death. Damn it! This giant piece of shit was ruining everything!

Suddenly, the screams began to die. No further horrors erupted to rip and tear at any of the Emeralds standing clear of Jiro. Still, Gella seethed, grinding his teeth in frustration as the beast-like thing turned to gaze directly down at him. Rerra looked back with nothing but scorn and contempt. He'd kill this garbage, he swore it.

Then he made Gella an offer....

Well... he supposed he could hear out his fellow man.

A knife? All he wanted was some measly knife? That was what all this death was for, all this senseless slaughter of his men? Over something he could have presumably gone in for himself any time? Well, he was a man after Gella's own heart! Oh, he still loathed this being with all that he was, but sometimes one had to cut deals with the people you hate in the name of... progress.

Not that he had much choice anyway. There was some movement at the mouth of the cave, large thorny obstructions sprouting from thin air, effectively discouraging entry or exit. Gella hated to admit it, but he didn't think he could take this thing on.

He pushed his men aside, a quickly spreading grin splitting his lips as he sauntered cockily towards the large creature who'd just decimated his ranks. "Well, you've proven yourself to be the stronger of us, haven't you?" His voice was almost sickeningly sweet as he reached out and grasped the being's hand. "You'll get your knife, so long as you keep those fools out of our way. You have a deal, Emerald's Honor."

Scattered murmurs from the Emeralds, some relived and some infuriated, rumbled underneath his words like a building quake as Gella shook the clawed hand and shouted out for the entire cave to hear, his voice echoing dramatically off of the cavern walls. "Emeralds! Proceed to the throat of the cave at once! Our associate is going to tend to our unwelcome guests!"

It was as soon as he'd said it that an arrow flew at Jiro from behind. No! It was that fool who'd called to get his attention before! He must have been with the village!

"No! You!"

Azlat Ushus
Patrik Fetladral
Joia Three Fingers
Jiroshina Tensho
Farzad Oldsummer
Desmene ​

 

[Jiroshina Tensho]

Jiro smiled under his mask, as he shook the hand of Gella his clawed fingers pricked Gella's skin and shadows rushed up Gella's arm and across his chest, the whole of his right arm all the way to the left side of his chest turned black, the magic weaved its way to his heart.

Even the gutter witches magic could not protect Gella from the pact, as Gella had entered it willing. If Gella kept his word the pact would be complete and he would return to normal, if he hadn't, well then he would die.

Jiro snarled as the arrow had hit him in the back of the shoulder. His eye glowed red now as they had done in his blood rage. He turned his attention now to the one who had loosed the arrow. He roared andas he had done so The Backwards had disappeared and all who had survived were now returned to the cavern, however he had delayed those other than Gella and his men from leaving, furthering his head start. Gella and his his men would be well beyond his position.

Jiro made no attempt now at pursuing Patrick, he did not say he would keep all from passing, he only promised to delay.

Now before the villagers and those that aidedthen stood the same very force that was slaughtering the emeralds. He gave a sickening cackle sword drawn smoke forming behind him so that no one could see Gella and his men as they made their way deeper into the cavern towards the treasure and towards the artifact his Master was seeking.

Gella Rerra Desmene Patrik Fetladral Joia Three Fingers Azlat Ushus Farzad Oldsummer