Snippet #1471572

When the second Child had jumped into the fray, Kisikoni believed he was actually going to die before the magic would transport him to safety. The kick sent waves of fear through his veins as he watched them raise their blades. His unfocused, muddled mind worked too slowly to react, but thankfully the translocation worked.

He lay on the stone basin for quite awhile before deciding to drag himself upright and stagger over to who he thought was Pel. As he was healed, his befuddled mind saw her as a savior angel- as the adrenaline had long since stopped flowing and every breath was painful due to the kick that broke several ribs. He was so dazed, he completely missed the meaning behind Pel's last statement, and ultimately forgot about it. Lost in the sense of relief, he thanked her multiple times before walking unsteadily away. So acute was his relief of being alive, he decided to drop the anger he felt at Duran for effectively blinding him and stumbled over to the kitchens. He couldn't sleep, so he decided to focus his scrambled brains by ordering a cup of bitter tea.

After being promptly kicked out by some frustrated cooks, he sat down at the bar tent just outside. He was so lost in his thoughts he went directly to the food rather than going to order it. "Damn it, a cup of your bitterest tea." He said, angry at himself for once. The last confrontation was one of the first battles where the Children were so skilled and numerous, he nearly died. In the past, he HAD fought for the Legions, but most of them were minor skirmishes and the Children didn't outnumber them. In the ambush situation, he had lost most of his sensibility after felling the Lamian Child. When the steaming mug arrived, he sat there playing with the tea bag for a few minutes before throwing a quarter of the liquid down his throat.

"Pain. Pain pain painpainpainpainpain!" He choked. He wisely chose to put the mug down gently instead of dropping it and burning his thighs. The acrid flavor really did bring his mind back into focus, which is why he smiled despite the tears flowing down his face. It was times like these where he felt particularly lonely. He had acquaintances back then, but more often than not he wasn't very important in their book. In a time where your friend could be fried in an instant, very few people had close bonds with another. The pain would just be too great. He finished his mug of tea, leaving money despite the fact that he might not even have had to pay for it and left. He would then walk a distance to the training area in the rain, sit on a bench sheltered by a flap of leather, and pay remembrance to the fallen. During the reading of their names, he was too unsteady to honor them properly, and now that he was focused he could do so.

He remembered that three were dead, one was MIA, possibly dead. The earliest deep humans have made a pact- to support the great lord of the earth and in return gain the ability to call upon his fear-inducing strength. He did not use that in battle, as there were so many and the attacks came so fast in the one-on-one that he wasn't quick enough to summon it.

"O, Great Lord. Your blood cleanses the earth and blesses us. May you watch over those who have fallen on your domain." He muttered, holding his left fist in his right hand. "We will remember." He repeated. He did not specify anybody, as even the children received his same blessing. To not honor the dead that fight so savagely for their beliefs is a crime against nature itself. As if in response, the air around the deep human became almost thick and unsettling for a brief moment. It was nothing substantial, or even perceptible- just a acknowledgement of his prayer from a being far beyond Kisikoni's own comprehension or just a simple anomaly in the air.

---

The Spider sighed. She lost all her weapons AGAIN.

The moment the translocation finished, the Spider had given the Halfling Cleric a big hug. "You're a darling." She quipped, just before the blond knight turned and offered her regards. "Yes, madame." She replied, tilting her head. Sniffing slightly, she turned and regarded the tattered legion. Her eyes swept them, regarding Neira with some interest. Very rare indeed to see a Nightmarian outside of Ecclavaria. Her gaze rested finally on the Captain of the Fortieth Legion. She smiled slightly, her razor fang retaining the fine white appearance as it contrasted against the rain around her. What a motley crew of misfits.

Wandering away from the group, she paused at the bar. No, not yet. She needed to get new weapons and supplies before she became drunk out of her mind.

She entered the armory tent, and the knight guarding the equipment eyed her. "Dear, I lost all my weapons when I got captured." She explained tiredly. "My entire team was wiped out to my knowledge, and I just want some new toys." She gave him a exasperated look. The knight remained expressionless, but nodded slightly. She skittered about the boxes that lay about. Wasn't nearly as nice as some of the deposits she had been in, but they carried some good flexible weapons.

She fished out a three-section staff. It was essentially three hardwood sticks smoothed out and strengthened. Each stick was about the length of your arm, and one was chained to the other two to provide a powerful defensive and offensive weapon. Usually, the two outer sticks acted as strikers while the middle stick acted as a guard. It could easily trap foes hands by folding on the enemy, and for this particular three-section staff, it was modified with a metal outlining and is studded to act as a war instrument. Satisfied with this, she holstered this and started looking through the boxes once more.

She found another sling, but they were essentially useless because Children were much more resilient to large flying rocks than most other races. A slingshot would be equally as useless. She sighed. She was only ever really proficient with her sling as a long-ranged weapon. She picked up a tomahawk and weighed it in her hand. No way was she going to be able to throw this accurately. She looked around some more.

"Oh. What's this delicious-looking beauty?" She asked rhetorically. She hoisted up a heavy black ball tied to a chain. The Ball and Chain was an early weapon thrown to break a shield line and damage anything in it's way very heavily. She hoisted it up. It would require some practice, but she could make it work. She found three, and hooked the weapons to her abdomen. She pawed through the items at hand once more.

She hoisted out another Mourning Star. These weapons had been very useful in causing significant blunt trauma to armored opponents, something her whip-chain wasn't able to do. Holstering this weapon as well, she found herself another nine-section whip chain to finish off her set of weaponry. The knight watched her exit, before muttering some witty remark about chains.

She arrived at the bar, and saw a Deep Human walking away in the rain toward the training fields. How odd.

She preferred to stand, as no seats would fit her mass and like any spider, stood all the time unless so drunk she sleeps on the ground. Which is what she intended on doing. "I was promised drinks, dear." She said to the barman. "Be a sweetie and fetch five mugs of your best to start." The man moved away, returning (as she asked) with five mugs of fresh liquor. She downed the first one like it was nothing. The second one followed soon after that, and she slowed down on the third one to savor the flavor. After all, one had to have at least some finesse, right?