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The Gala-Dor Expedition

Zoltia

7.75 INK

a part of The Gala-Dor Expedition, by CrossKnight35.

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CrossKnight35 holds sovereignty over Zoltia, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

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Setting

Default Location for The Gala-Dor Expedition
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Zoltia

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Minimap

Zoltia is a part of The Gala-Dor Expedition.

12 Characters Here

Esther Alfsson [81] Journeyman Alchemist, Healer, Saboteur
Serena L'aporte [80] "Calm as the ocean, wild as the seas."
Ashera Vallenai [79] A young and reckless archer with a sense for danger...
Dreador [43] The deadly, mysterious assassin... and unwilling choresmaster of the expedition.
Maria Solaster [42] A weirdo in a cleric uniform.
Orcimedes Lavatrina [36] Green is the mightiest flavor.
Hilgur Black-Mane [33] Businessman. Warrior. Amateur Harmonicist.
AnaĆÆs Botrel [22] academic and record keeper
Iz'Hana Daudol [15] A wandering Ranger, always eager for the next hunt.
Henri Le Chevalier [8] Knight by name, Knight by nature

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Setting

5 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson Character Portrait: Maria Solaster Character Portrait: Orcimedes Lavatrina
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Through it all, Lio shivered against the slick stone walls, eye occasionally twitching. It was remarkable just how much paler the man could grow. And just how short he looked now that he was hunkered down with that green beast hovering over their heads. His brows perked up as the party began to trudge away, suddenly looking alert despite theā€¦ dark, glazed over pupils taking over his entire eyeballs.

ā€œWhat? Yeah? Follow the green giant? Wait, didnā€™t we blow it up?ā€ He blinked a few times, shook out the sweats, then grimaced. ā€œOhhhhh, Flame forsake me, aha, ha... Iā€™ve dabbled in the olā€™ alch of mey myself but this, this, theyā€™ve been mixing something strange in this. I think I felt bones when I held it.ā€ His voice raised to a wheeze as he lumbered behind. ā€œIā€™m fine. Iā€™mmm fine.ā€ Then in a mutter, ā€œIā€™m going to kill that ring when I find her.ā€

With Orcimedes leading the way, the group ventured forth. Down ancient stone steps and through rusted iron grates, into the bowels of the sewers. The walls seemed greener the deeper they went, layered with centuriesā€™ worth of grime and filth, left to fester and spread. Rats scurried away from the partyā€™s approach. The further they went, the more rats they found. Even with their great numbers, Orcimedesā€™ booming stomps staved off any hostile intent. They retreated, into the cracks and crevices which beset the sewers.

Eventually, they came upon the end of the path. A great chasm laid ahead, thirty meters wide and pitch-black with no bottom to be seen. Surrounding the edge of the chasm was the heart of the Red Hatchetā€™s operations. A rickety fort of scaffolds and spikes, built into the walls and shrouded in patches of tarp.

On the highest peaks of the scaffolds were the Hatchetsā€™ archers, three on one side, and three on the other, their fire-tipped arrows already trained upon the party. Eight more gathered to greet them, with axes and spears and sneering faces painted with blood. They stood there, hunched over into battle stances, and remained.

Thud.

The sound rang behind the scaffolds. A shadowy form emerged, its head a fang-filled, growling maw.

The Red Hatchets thumped their spears on to the ground, in tune with the encroaching steps.

Thud, thud, thud!

ā€œGeorgina! Georgina! Georgina! GEORGINA!ā€ They chanted and chanted, the sound swiftly filling up the arena.

Heavy paws. Scraping metal. Nine metres from the head to the base of the tail. A giant beast, shrouded in damp and frayed grey fur, with a face that was somewhere between a rat and a direwolf. A moist, lolling tongue licked over its rotten, crooked fangs, and the reins of chains bolted onto its cheek armour. Its eyes were bloodshot red and unfocused, its body barded by layers and segments of rusted, blue-grey iron fastened by leather. It emerged to face the party, and upon its back was the largest, most heavily armoured bandit in the room. Their leader.

The Bandit Lord was dressed in armour that matched his mount; one that bore the scars of a hundred blades and the dents of a hundred hammers. Blood-red paint was slathered over the left side of his cuirass. A crooked, bucket-shaped helmet shrouded his face. He held Georginaā€™s chains in his left hand, while his right wielded an overlong, razor-sharp bardiche, rested upon his shoulder.

The Bandit Lord raised his left hand, and his men were silenced in an instance. He stared down the group, towering even Orcimedes atop his mount. ā€œWell, well, well,ā€ he spoke. ā€œYouā€™re the ones whoā€™d given my men a lot of trouble.ā€ His voice was low and deep, yet it lacked the other banditsā€™ manic intonations or their lowborn accents. He cocked his head, letting out a raspy chuckle as he observed the party.

ā€œYou donā€™t look like Sacred Flame...ā€ He stopped at Maria. ā€œ...Most of you, that is. What brings you here, to this trash heap at the ass-end of Beaucourt?ā€ He glanced towards Orcimedes and Esther, his voice rumbling into a purr. ā€œThe sewers are not exactly tourist traps, hehehe.ā€

Setting

3 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hilgur Black-Mane Character Portrait: Dreador Character Portrait: AnaĆÆs Botrel
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The drowā€™s quick breaths slowed against Anaisā€™s ear when she heard those words, Flohlu un'saa. Her dying language, on the tongue of the Beaucourtisan upper class. Butchered by that accent, but in these circumstances, the most beautiful melody she had ever heard. She looked to Hilgur, looking back at her with that calm, firm look he wore when he knew he was in control - and returned it.

ā€œFunny how desperate slaves will act sometimes, isn't it, Mr. Black-Mane?"

Hilgur narrowed his eyes. The crowd watching from a safe distance whispered amongst each other. Anais had quickly turned this into a scene. Somehow, this soft-gutted, long-legged bint made him feel... threatened. His blood boiled at the thought.

One of the guards turned his head towards Hilgur. He scrutinised the dwarf for a moment, considering both his and Anaisā€™ words. ā€œDwarf, youā€™re coming with us. We have some questions weā€™d like you to answer.ā€

The black-bearded dwarf clenched his fists and barked, ā€This is NONSENSE! Sheā€™s not a slave, sheā€™s a legally sanctioned-ā€ The guard directed his sword towards Hilgurā€™s neck. The dwarf recoiled and tossed his hands up, peering at the cold steel which poked at his vulnerable flesh. Close, far too close for comfort. Several drops of sweat beaded upon his temple. He had an expedition to run, he couldnā€™t risk a harebrained outburst. Not here, not now.

The drowā€™s chain crumpled to the ground, curled yet still, like the image of a slithering snake. Her gaze followed it down.

The other guard kept his blade trained upon the blue-eyed drow. ā€œYou, Drow. We will detain you until we finish this investigation.ā€ The first guard bound Hilgurā€™s arms behind his back and confiscated his axe. ā€œCooperate, and the truth may exonerate you. Resist, and your death will be all that matters.ā€

Hilgur glared the drow and Anaisā€™ way, and raised one brow. The chain hissed as it trailed across the ground. The drow tugged Anais along, not forsaking her grip on the chain nor her newly gained ā€œfreedom.ā€ The tip of the guardā€™s blade followed after her. Her eyes darted from each blocked exit, to the edge of the bridge. She gnashed her teeth as a guard took a step too close and backed them both to the bridgeā€™s edge to glance over her shoulder. Ten feet above the water. Easy. Slowly, she undid the winding around Anaisā€™s neck.

Without a word, she shoved Anais forward, right towards the sword that was targeted their way. The guard shouted and drew his blade back as the drow effortlessly perched on top the railing and moved to swan dive over the edge -

When she was jerked back. In the last second, a fraction from falling, being jerked, and snapping her neck. She rolled across the bridge and regained control of her momentum in a crouch, hissing at the guard who had run up to snatch her chain. She whipped her head between the sight of his sword and the hand that restrained her then dashed towards him, her hand curled like a catā€™s paw and nails glinting. Her face stretched back into a threatening snarl.

BZZZZZZZT.

The drowā€™s body tensed up, freezing her in place. She grunted, straining against somethingā€¦ the buzzing, coming from the dainty silver collar tightening by itself around her neck. Spittle sprayed out from between her gritted teeth. Her gaze moved from the guard, to glare at Hilgur. The buzzing cut off, and her knees went weak, toppling her. The guards closed in to make their arrest.

Hilgurā€™s expression had relaxed once more. He was in control. If not of the situation, then at least of her. ā€I told you. She ainā€™t hurting anybody.ā€ His cheeks bunched up with a smirk. ā€Couldnā€™t even think about it.ā€

The collar zapped her unmoving body once more.

Setting

5 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson Character Portrait: Maria Solaster Character Portrait: Orcimedes Lavatrina
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Maria took great care not to let her boots tread over the roaming sewer fauna -- fauna that by now, must have caught the scent of fresh blood upon their clothes, mixed in with whatever sewer muck was wafting through the tunnels. Rats weren't exactly picky about their food sources, she expected their return trip may yield some new visitors around the cadavers they'd left behind.

Even as they pressed further into the depths, the sickly odor of burned skin seemed to follow her, long after the group had already moved on. It was a smell she despised, almost distinctly so. She preferred her mace and board anyway, but that was yet another reason for her to stay her hand from casting the spells she'd become familiar with over the years; such that it became something of a reputation in her circles. Why would such a talented flame mage trade her gifts for simple brute force? To that, she had no answer. Or rather, no answer that wouldn't leave others mildly unsettled.

Finally encroaching onto Red Hatchet territory proper, her gaze swiveled around to take in the ramshackle assortment of boards and ladders into something that could arguably be described as fortifications. Maintenance down here must not be very thorough if structures like these had managed to spring up beneath their notice...

The leader, she presumed, introduced himself in style, bearing down on the group aloft some manner of beast. After posing his question, Maria looked over her shoulder to address the group behind her and made a face that expressed something like, let me do the talking, okay?

Turning around, she stood with her back straight, shoulders broad, and head held up high with her shield at her side and her weapon held vertically over her chest.

"BY THE GRACE OF THE SACRED FLAME, YOU ARE HEREBY PRIVILEGED TO LAY DOWN YOUR ARMS AND SUBMIT QUIETLY TO THE CUSTODY OF THE ORDER." Her voice boomed throughout the hollowed space with unerring authority, the reverberating echoes spiraling down into the deep.

"FURTHERMORE, YOU WILL RELINQUISH TO US YOUR CAPTIVE, ALONG WITH ANY CONTRABAND YOU HAVE UNLAWFULLY OBTAINED. THERE WILL BE NO NEGOTIATION.

YIELD, OR LIBERATE YOURSELF INTO THIS CHASM BEFORE YOU, LEST THE FULL WEIGHT OF YOUR DIVINE PUNISHMENT REND YOUR SOUL FROM ITS VESSEL. YOUR MERCY RESTS WITHIN YOUR OWN HANDS." Maria let out strong, controlled breaths following her informal decree, fixing her eyes upon the bandit leader with a solemn confidence.

Then she turned around and did a small thumbs up. With a little reassuring smile.

Setting

5 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson Character Portrait: Maria Solaster Character Portrait: Orcimedes Lavatrina
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"Ooooooh!" squealed Orcimedes in a rising pitch, practically dancing with giddiness. "Hmm! Yes! Very rousing! Superb entrance!" he commended, stomping over to Maria and squatting down to her level.

"Deep breaths, puff out your chest. Speak with your diaphram, it helps command the tone," he explained, then stood up, taking a breath and sweeping the wyvern skull of his staff dramatically out towards the bandits. "BY THE GRACE OF THE ALMIGHTY SACRED FLAME!!" He bellowed, his voice boomed with the authority of a thunderclap, knocking the dust out of the rickety scaffold structures.

"Like that. See how I used 'almighty' as the descriptor for your deity since a holy woman has to respect her own humility: Can't go throwing about phrases like 'Puny Mortals' like the heathenistic non God-fearing Orc I am," he snorted.

"Ooh, also! Ooh, you can add 'OR DIE' as an ultimatum to the end of any sentence to make it more intimidating. Try again... go ahead they'll wait,"
he said, ushering her towards the bandits like a small child.

"So precious," he whispered loudly as he turned back to the rest of the group. He wiped a tear from his eye, though it served mainly to smear more grime across his face. He gave her just the gentlest shove out into the spotlight like a doting parent... a doting mountainous parent looming behind her in the shadows, amber eyes gleaming in the shadows at the bandit leader.

The cunning, calculating gleam of a beast planning its next move, like he would leap out and unleash the unbridled ferocity for which his kind were known. Mercilessly smashing his way through their ranks, as a truly unstoppable wrecking ball of force. The intricacies of this kind of mental duel were often lost to those who weren't trained in the art of battle. True masters of the craft could strike their opponent down with only their gaze, without even having to lift a finger. A master, the bandit leader was clearly not... was that paralysis creeping into their bones as their gazes locked? Or just their imagination?

Orcimedes' thumb twitched, sending a jolt of tension through the air. The orc's presence was overwhelming, and the weight of his intent crushed down on everyone's shoulders. This is what it was like to face a true legend in the flesh... the bandit leader must have flinched involuntarily, as the orc's piercing amber gaze widened suddenly as he sensed his opening. He moved with terrifying quickness, far faster than any object with his girth had any right to, leaping over Maria and charging the bandit leader, his eyes locked straight onto their weakest point.

"HUNDUR!!" he shouted, with childlike glee as he dove to tackle the beast rider and all.

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#, as written by StarGW
Traveling with an orc was... certainly an experience. Esther wasn't sure who she was less comfortable being around: Maria, or Orcimedes. On one hand, she and Maria had a common foe, are on the right side of the law, and Orcimedes was well-spoken, considerate, and overly friendly. On the other hand, Maria acted like an inquisitor, could probably sear Esther's mouth off with a thought, and Orcimedes was a goddamn orc. Esther's one relief was that they weren't the Red Hatchets, whose rabid state and preference for ugly sewers made them the greater of the two or three evils.

...They also tried to kill her, so that didn't help.

And she also was caught off-guard by the chasm when the group arrived. The increasing green sludge and moss made her increasingly queasy. She could only imagine the bandits' base being a literal trash heap. Instead, they made the rather impressive... attempt at a fort. It was prone to collapse, between the old wood and flammable tarp, but it was impressive in its own way on what the bandits could do with what they scavenged. Beaucourt could learn some efficiency from these people... and only efficiency and absolutely nothing else.

Having found herself uncomfortably warm, due to her armor and the sewer's humidity, the alchemist took a step back from the bandits and their fire-tipped arrows. Their big rat-pet-freak-thing was likewise concerning. She did gauge a few opportunities from the sight: a bit of fire, a bit of oil, maybe a corrosive vial or two, and a lot of damage could be done very quickly. But the Hatchets still had a height advantage with their own arrows. It would've been a dire mistake to believe they couldn't aim and she's rather avoid an all-out battle.

And there, right then, was why Esther wasn't comfortable around Maria and Orcimedes.

First was the paladin's shouting. It was strong, powerful, sent shivers down Esther's spine, and was made towards a group that certainly wasn't intimidated by her. The alchemist remained quiet throughout and merely stood still in silence; her old habits coming back to her. Maria's uncharacteristic thumbs up was met by Esther's stern and unamused eyes and a blank reply: "You're not very good with people, are you?"

And this didn't compare to her reaction to Orcimedes, who in short fashion, followed Maria's lead, sounded both wise and dim-witted, and then took a strange fascination to this 'Georgia' before charging in.

Suffice to say, Esther's face turned from concern, to worry, to dread, and to utter shock.

"O...kay, so much for diplomacy," she quietly declared in stunned defeatism as Wilthro, in clever foresight, flew back to Serena's shoulder. "You four," she says to Ashera, Serena, Wilthro and Lio, "might want to find cover."

Setting

5 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson Character Portrait: Maria Solaster Character Portrait: Orcimedes Lavatrina
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It never ceased to amaze Ashera just how deep these old sewers continued to go. They had been down here for so long and gone so far that she almost started to wonder if they might never see the sun again. A shudder ran down her spine at the thought. She kept a watchful eye on Orcimedes, who was apparently amenable to leading them to the Red Hatchets; if he chose to turn against the group, the fight would doubtless be a bloody one. After yet more trudging through the damp and the filth ā€“ and more fervent wishing for a bath from the elf ā€“ the ever-growing band of misfits reached the mould-ridden heart of the sewers. Right into the Red Hatchets' encampment.

Despite Ashera's premonitions, even she was taken aback by the small army amassed before them. The entirety of the Red Hatchets had focused their attention on the would-be rescuers, ruling out any hope of sneaking their way out of this.

Maria was the first to respond to the bandit lord's challenge with a rousing ultimatum, to give up their hostage or suffer the consequences. Ashera was certainly emboldened. It almost felt like they stood a chance, horribly outnumbered though they were. The speech was undermined somewhat by the priestess' smile and thumbs up to the rest of the team, however. A nice gesture, but even Ashera had her doubts about doing so in full view of the enemy. What also didn't help was Orcimedes'... "contribution" afterward. Coddling their erstwhile spokeswoman like a child took the momentum out of the negotiations. By the time he went to do what orcs did best, Ashera had resigned herself to prepare for battle.

No sooner than Esther had called for the others to seek cover, Ashera pulled out a small crystal and attached it to her belt. The crystal flared with a silvery inner light at her touch, and a rectangular plane of invisible energy appeared before her, wide enough to shield herself and the others without fully blocking the way forward.

The elf felt her way closer to the left of the shield wall, preparing another one of her magic arrows. Through the barrier she had a good enough view of one of the enemy structures, for lack of a better word. When she noticed a pause in the hail of arrows from that side, Ashera leaned out of cover and returned fire, aiming more for the fort itself than the archers manning it. The overloaded crystal projectile impacted with a large blast of concussive force, dangerously shaking the ramshackle fortifications.

Unwilling to have to use another of her crystal arrows so soon, Ashera switched to the mundane variety and provided some covering fire for those who charged straight into the bandit horde.

Setting

5 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson Character Portrait: Maria Solaster Character Portrait: Orcimedes Lavatrina
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#, as written by Byte
Image


They were certainly organised for a ragtag group of drugged-up bandits.

Serena stared at the makeshift fort, held up by only the smallest of threads and probably about to shift and tumble into the depths if you so much as sneezed a bit too hard. It made her feel somewhat uncomfortable standing there with the bellowing Orc the size of two trees.

ā€œEhm, Iā€™ll second my motion to get the Hell out. Now?ā€ The comment had fallen on deaf ears, and the pirate contemplated for the second time today why she hadnā€™t thought about bringing something sharp to shank someone with.

She was fairly used to running away from her problems in that regard, especially if they carried around a big fuck-off dograt to show off to the in-laws. And Serena felt her instinct nag her like an incessant fly buzzing around her ears.

Maybe she shouldā€™ve listened.

The flame priestessā€™s attempts at mediating the situation were dubious at best, and even Serena had to give some disapproval. However much the thumbs up made her grin.

ā€œYou have a terrible way with words.ā€ Was an understatement.

Not long after it all, the newly acquired meatshield launched himself into the thick of it with a bellow and pounced on the beast and its rider. And Raven couldnā€™t have said it better. Diplomacy, indeed.

ā€œIf this plan fails, let me know. Iā€™d like a headstart.ā€ The pirate nodded to the alchemistā€™s suggestion to go and hide, pausing for a moment to allow Wilthro to flutter to his typical spot before taking cover behind the magic barrier that Blondie had so thoughtfully put up. Figured it was good enough of a cover. Magic was sturdy, right? Yeah, this was going to be a tough fight if she had anything to say about it. Which she didnā€™t, but that wouldnā€™t stop her from wanting to bring in a good word or two about dragging random strangers along for the ride.

The catch? Well, theyā€™d have to live through this mess first...

Setting

3 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hilgur Black-Mane Character Portrait: Dreador Character Portrait: Iz'Hana Daudol
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The southern Arc-en-Lume watchtower. One of the capitalā€™s many holding cells laid here, beneath the floors upon floors of barracks. Here, under the dim, crackling torchlights and the incessant rattle of chains and shackles, the cityā€™s many thieves, thugs, and other miscreants remained. Some awaited trial. Others hoped for bail or pardon. All, however, longed for freedom. Freedom from the rusted, blood-scented chains. From the stale, dusty air. From the possibility of a worse fate within the Sirenā€™s Epitaph, Beaucourtā€™s most fortified prison, secluded deep within the western mountain range.

The sound of footsteps drew Izā€™Hanaā€™s ears. The bright yellow glow of a lantern peered down the spiral staircase just across his cell. His keen huntsmanā€™s senses recognised these sounds. The familiar, metallic clink and clank of the guardsā€™ steel sabatons, followed by the pitter-patter of footsteps, one with shorter, slower strides than the other.

The faceless armet of one guard looked straight at Izā€™Hana. ā€œHey, Darkie. Weā€™ve got a friend for ya.ā€ The other guard cackled and dragged the bound form of a drow woman down the stairs, across the cobblestone floor, and in front of Izā€™Hanaā€™s cell. The first guard unlocked the door, and the second tossed the woman inside.

Thud!

Her lanky body rolled over the dust thrice over. The guards shut the door, and began to move along with their second prisoner - a stout dwarf, dressed in tattered rags, with beard and eyes as black as ink. ā€œGuards, wait!ā€ He shouted. The guards humoured him. The dwarf shuffled towards the drow woman, his arms bound behind his back and secured by the second guard. ā€Donā€™t celebrate just yet,ā€ he spoke, his voice a calm, low warning. ā€The Sacred Flame are lookinā€™ through my room in the Jackalope this very moment. Itā€™s only a matter of time.ā€

She spat through the bars, spraying it through her teeth and over his face like a snake spitting venom. ā€œInbau aturr ulu lā€™maerch, gorraā€™h,ā€ she hissed, unable to hold back the laugh in her voice.

Hilgur bared his wide, block-like teeth, his face contorted with layers of wrinkles set by rage. ā€NOBODY CAN STOP MY EXPEDITION!ā€ ā€œAlright, thatā€™s enough,ā€ The first guard decided, and dragged a screaming, squirming, incensed Hilgur away, deeper into the dungeons.

A flash of white darted across her dark face. As she turned around, she disposed of her grin, flicking her gaze over to the shadow in the corner. They were hers, with ashen skin and pale eyes more fitting of their kind. A short rolling of her tongue left her lips instinctively, ending on an inflection. A question. Then she frowned, remembering something, and tossed her head without waiting for an answer, slinking towards the other corner.

Zoltian drow. They werenā€™t hers.

Setting

3 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hilgur Black-Mane Character Portrait: Dreador Character Portrait: Iz'Hana Daudol
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It was the hissing spit that really drew Izā€™Hanaā€™s focus; his head rolling upward in a languid, almost bored sort of fashion. His eyes narrowed on reflex as the Drow woman was shoved in with him, and he twitched as if to move towards her when she spat on the dwarf.

ā€œInbau aturr ulu lā€™maerch, gorraā€™h.ā€ Hissed the woman, her words driving Izā€™Hanaā€™s eyebrows high. His body twitched as if to move forward, to protect thisā€¦ This kindred, this one like him, like so many others. But no.

No instead, he sat calmly, holding his breath and his body as still as the grave. As still as an animal watching for an opening. The guards held one eye on him, one on the woman, and one on the now raging dwarf.

He got no such opening. They left, and locked him in with someoneā€¦ Interesting.

His focus turned to the woman as he stood to his full height, his arms creaking the entire way up. His eyes, far darker than hers, locked on the womanā€™s form as she curled away.
The trill she gave before she did thoughā€¦

Izā€™Hana returned the trill, a deeper, somewhat guttural thing, with an inflection on the end as well.
Then his hands moved, one coming up and resting over his eye, the palm facing out towards the woman.
Then they both came down, facing up towards the ceiling, as close to under his ribs as he could get them.

Then he repeated. Over and over until the woman looked, and responded.

The boredom faded quickly for Izā€™Hana, and instead, exhilarated focus overtook him. He dared not speak, dared not to breathe until he was sure that she was what he thought she might be.

A comrade.

Setting

2 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dreador Character Portrait: Iz'Hana Daudol
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Dreador looked at her captive companion like she couldn't believe him. She slowly raised from the seat she had condemned herself to, eyes flicking between the movement of his hands. Trust. Help. Trust. Help. Over and over. She lifted a hand, pressed the back of it lightly against her eye, then prowled forward.

"Inbal dos tlus iff'brut quin?" she began, testing the stranger for the Gaurrean old tongues, then continued in her heavy accent, "Have you been marked?"

She knelt by him and gestured to the back of her neck.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Dreador Character Portrait: Iz'Hana Daudol
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Oh.
Izā€™Hana sighed a breath that was tinted with relief and recognition alike. Another drow, who spoke the same way Ilharn did! The same words, the same ā€¦ Well, almost the same everything. A shock from long ago. A maleā€™s voice murmuring in that familiar, soothing tongue. The language like a balm over the scrapes and burns from the hunt. The damn lizard hadnā€™t won yet, they would succeed thrice-dammitā€”

His breathing sped up as he smiled at the other occupant, a bright, if quiet, laugh leaping from his throat as he whispered back to her.

ā€œP'obonus? Nau. T'neus, handerr lu'nug'ri? Siyo.ā€ He rolled his head about before slumping once again against the wall, his eyes peering at the now empty hall beyond the cell. Izā€™Hana was tired, sleep begged for his attention.
Alas sleep would wait! A change of pace, some exhilarating new situation!

ā€œLu'oh xunus dos inbau ghil? Vel'klar tlun Usstan? Usstan xun naut zhaun nindol che'el, xor nindolen thac'zilen, ves al jalamzild.ā€ Rushed whispers, excitement almost overpowering, beforeā€¦
ā€œUsstan tlun Izā€™Hanaā€ Hissed out of him, the bubbling excitement fading and cooling down to a mere smile that had still yet to leave his lips.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson Character Portrait: Maria Solaster Character Portrait: Orcimedes Lavatrina
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Maria's speech rang loud and true throughout the depths of the stronghold. Orcimedes' contribution bolstered the power of her voice even further. Those amongst the bandits who had retained enough sense and sanity to not be gibbering and drooling reeled back from the strength of their speeches. Two of them took one step back, then two more, then looked towards each other.

ā€œScrew this!ā€

ā€œL-letā€™s get outta here!ā€

The two bandits turned tail and ran away, never to be seen again.

The remaining bandits, save for their Lord, degraded into hysterics. They laughed, and spat, with bloodshot, bulging eyes and mouths lined with crooked and missing teethā€¦ just as Orcimedesā€™ hulking form launched forth, straight towards the Bandit Lord. He smashed through a shield wielder and his spear partner, their puny bodies blown across the room on impact.

ā€œAIEEE!ā€

ā€œHIYAAAā€¦!ā€

The shield wielder slammed against the wall. The spearman rolled dangerously close to the chasm, but recovered right before he fell.

At the very last second, the Bandit Lord tugged at Georginaā€™s chains. The she-beast reared up, roared, and weathered the hit meant for her master.

SLAM!!

Her bones rattled, her armour shook. But the beast would not be so easily downed, and neither would her master, who flinched, but was not unhorsed. She pushed back against Orcimedes, her lean, wiry form balanced by her overwhelming size. The Bandit Lord twirled his polearm over his head. The weapon spun and spun, gaining speed and momentum by the second. The rat-wolf shrieked then lunged forth, snapping her jaws once, twice, to bite at Orcimedesā€™ shoulder, then face. Barely a second later, the Bandit Lord slammed his bardiche down, aimed right at the orcā€™s head.

WOOSH!

Two ground bandits had fled. Six remained, not counting their leader. They surrounded Orcimedes, drawn by his threat, wielding spears and axes. Four of them enclosed him from behind, wailing and thrusting away with their weapons. A shield-wielder hunkered down. His spear-bearing accomplice dashed forth, stepped upon the shieldmanā€™s board, and leapt, high into the air, sprung by his partner.

The spearman drew his spear back like a javelin, reached the highest point of his jump, and flung his spear with full force towards Orcimedes.

B o o m

A sound resounded behind them. It was a bassy, otherworldly boom, one that churned their stomach instead of their eardrums. Asheraā€™s magic arrow struck a critical area. The scaffolds shattered into a rain of splinters and stakes. The archersā€™ platform collapsed, taking the three archers with it. They screamed, and screamed, and flailed, until the fall silenced them with a splat, and the scaffolds crumbled into a pile of rubble and dust.

Drawn by the massive blow, two of the ground bandits turned his attention towards Ashera, Esther, Maria, and Wilthro.ā€œHiiihihihihihiihihi!ā€ They charged, full-speed ahead, screaming and gibbering as they dodged Asheraā€™s suppressive fire, utterly oblivious to the shield wall the elf had erected, until-

Bonk!

The bandits struck their heads. One was instantly knocked prone. The other reeled back, groaning. His nose twitched. He drew back his twin axes, screamed, and wailed away at the invisible barrier. Left, right, left, right, left, right, left right, like a whirlwind of blade and fury. The shield held. For now.

The axe banditā€™s blows formed ripples across the barrier. From the remaining archersā€™ platform, one of the three marksmen narrowed his eyes, observing. He couldnā€™t discern the width or height of the barrier, but he swiftly realised...ā€œItā€™s a flat plane!ā€ The archer whispered to his fellows.

An urgent, wordless warning gripped Ashera's heart. Instinctively, she was drawn towards Maria. An arrow was embedded in her chest. Fresh, stark red blood trickled down her dress.

The arrow disappeared. And with it, the blood. Above, from the archersā€™ platform, one of the marksmen lined up a shot, his sights set upon the cleric.

Meanwhile, Esther and Serena remained safe.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson Character Portrait: Maria Solaster Character Portrait: Orcimedes Lavatrina
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"Whoa, everyone's fighting now," Maria foolishly said, pointing at the chaos instead of paying attention to her imminent peril.

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Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson Character Portrait: Dreador Character Portrait: Maria Solaster Character Portrait: Orcimedes Lavatrina Character Portrait: Iz'Hana Daudol
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"Jalamzild..." she repeated to herself, skepticism colouring the word. He claimed to be unfamiliar with these lands, but she didn't believe him, not entirely. It wasn't because of a liar's tongue. But she refrained from trading her name with this Iz'Hana regardless.

"Ol zhah natha sief ulu thalra dos, Iz'Hana," she greeted. And a relief it was. It was a joy to use her tongue again, after using it so sparingly whilst in the company of those bright-eyed fools. "F'sarn ghil p'wal natha rivvil paken brou pholor uns'aa." Her hands moved up to tug on the silver collar around her neck. "Natha rivvil paken brou pholor uns'aa p'wal natha dwen'del sers uns'aa pholor natha sluda." Her lips twisted into a scornful smile. "Usstan brorn ka il orn'la plynnet brou pholor uns'aa ka usstan zhahus ulu l'chath zil High Paladin quarthen."

She crawled closer. The chains, the jewelry, all of the delicate metals on her person clinked softly as she did. "Dosst kyrom?" she asked in a whisper.




Back down in the sewers, Lio raised his fists in preparation to charge into combat, threw up, and accidentally stumbled out of the way of a killing blow.

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#, as written by StarGW
Esther gave a grotesque look at the bandits quickly surrounding the large and reckless Orcimedes. THIS orc was a warlord? How'd he even hold the mountains of Helgarde for a day if he charged recklessly and get himself in the thick of things?

She couldn't spare too much thought for him, but she'd reconsider her skepticism if he somehow got out of this alive... And if everyone else did, first.

The alchemist felt safe under Ashera's barrier; but that wasn't going to keep the group safe for long. "Then stop looking and start killing!" She shouted at Maria with the authority of a general as she moved around Ashera's field; it was good for protection but not for getting rid of their foes. And, unfortunately, she had no way of getting to the archers firing from the platform. In fact, if it weren't for Ashera's barrier, Esther wouldn't be willing to take this current risk.

With the chasm's dim lighting and her dark-colored armor to cover her, she moved to the other side of the barrier where the two rushing bandits occupied themselves with the barrier. One prone, another bashing the barrier mindlessly. She could work with this. Now if only the sewer's stench and heat hadn't sapped all her confidence.

---

Dagger out, step, step, step, RUN!

*SKEWER*

The bandit on the floor barely saw it coming: a glint of steel held in reverse grip diving down between the eyes. A solid, effective, and merciless stab to the forehead that went through the brain and left the metal wet in blood. The grisly sound of a blade through flesh and bone was drowned by the clattering of axes against an invisible barrier. The other bandit never heard the kill.

Then he felt it, a pinpoint, terrible pain in his back. His arms flailed back in pain and left his head vulnerable from the side.

*SKEWER* *SKEWER*

Equal parts calculating, reckless, and wild, the dagger went into his head twice; the first almost dug in halfway before hitting bone; the second pierced through cleanly. His hands gave and his axes dropped to the floor with a seismic-sounding clank on the old stone steps.

---

Esther clumsily swung the dead bandit's body around, putting herself between the barrier and the corpse as if the latter was a shield with her dagger still stuck in him. Yeesh, she knew better than to spew blood from their wounds. Her torso armor was drenched in bandit blood from her backstab. And now she found herself without a way of taking out those archers.

...Well at least she had cover!

Setting

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Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson Character Portrait: Maria Solaster Character Portrait: Orcimedes Lavatrina
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Ashera's heart nearly skipped a beat as the warning vision flashed before her eyes. Maria was just stood there, an inviting target if ever there was one. The elf looked up to the other nest of archers, already drawing back her bow as one of the bandits began to line up a shot on Maria. Her arrow found its mark. The would-be assassin screamed in mortal agony as his forearm was pinned to his chest. That was one future which, thankfully, would never come to pass.

With the immediate disaster averted, Ashera focused her attention on the remaining archers, grateful for Esther holding the line and buying her time to properly focus. Like half-formed after-images, she could see when and where each one would pop up and take their next shot. One by one, the elf picked them off with uncanny precision. Once the last of them had been dealt with, she glanced over to where Esther was taking cover, huddled between the barrier and a bandit's carcass.

ā€œEsther! Are you alright?ā€ Ashera called out to the alchemist. ā€œIt's safe to move now, there's no-one left on the ramparts.ā€ With no more enemy archers to worry about for the time being, Ashera redoubled her efforts in providing fire support for the combatants up front.

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Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson Character Portrait: Maria Solaster Character Portrait: Orcimedes Lavatrina
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Orcimedes grunted as the beast bit him in the shoulder. It would leave a pretty nasty bruise, but didn't break the skin. When she lunged for his face he suddenly took a step forward, his heavy footstep thundering through the canyon as he thrust his considerable bulk forward and slammed his forehead straight into the beast's snout. It recoiled and lost its footing for just long enough to be shoved violently several inches towards the chasm edge. The sudden movement threw off the bandit leader's strike just enough for the halberd to hit Orcimedes in the shoulder with it's wooden shaft, though whether by design or dumb luck one could never really tell with him.

SNAP!

The thrown spear shattered against his side, and though Orcimedes flicked an amber eye towards the assailant, he didn't seem to take any further notice... his hands were full after all. A few arrows lodged themselves into the fur lining of his tunic, and the ones that struck his bare skin sprung away as though he were wearing armor before Ashera kindly took care of the pests. Orcimedes thrust his gut against the beast a second time to get his footing and then grasped the animal's barding for leverage with one of his massive hands.

He inhaled sharply, and a flex traveled up his legs, stretching the fabric of his leggings taut against his thighs and rump as he dipped. With a grunt he sprung back up, lifting the beast, rider and all, off the ground and swinging it into an overhead arc. There was a tangible moment of hesitation at the apex while a wicked grin spread across the orc's face as he locked gazes with the bandit leader.

"Down you go!" He informed with a laugh, twisting at the hips and slamming the animal down on top of the spear-throwing bandit along with its rider with bone crushing force. The impact shuddered through the stone, knocking a layer of dust out of the crevices. For an uncomfortably long minute Orcimedes wrestled furiously with the beast until he was in a superior position and had her pinned to the floor with his sheer strength. They were still for a moment before his hands started moving again... slowly at first, mussing the fur at its scruff without releasing his grip. He took a deep breath, as if to bellow a victory cry.

"Who's a good girl?!" he asked jubilantly while vigorously rubbing its belly. "Is it you?! Is it?? I bet it is!"

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Character Portrait: Dreador Character Portrait: Iz'Hana Daudol
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Another laugh crackled out of Izā€™Hanaā€™s parched throat. He slowly slumped back against the wall, moving closer to the other drow as best he could without drawing attention.
He took note that she did not name herself, and accepted that. He didnā€™t blame her.

But he was telling the truth, as best he felt he was at least. The lands had changed in a way he could not describe, and cities wereā€¦ labyrinthine hellscapes. Too many bodies, too much paranoia. Elves and humans and dwarves and prejudice. No proper trees to climb, no proper space to breathe that wasnā€™t filthy with the stench of society. Customs and beliefs that were as alien as his appearance. Disgust. The Clerics of flame.
Oh well.

Izā€™Hana felt more isolated in a city full of people, than in the wilds where to see another person was to see a unicorn. Or a god.


ā€œOpi theft, ā€˜sil'inā€™ j'nesst ssiggrin il ā€œkyor uns'aa stealing dal natha tragr! Ukt rahi ph'suspicious!ā€ He took a breath, an indignant anger rising for a moment before fading as he continued.
ā€œL'kyorle trital ilta. Naut uns'aa. Nind telanth Usstan tlun ulu kyorl whol ussta bail, xor ā€˜ussta sponsorā€™, xor whol ussta draeval ulu tlu phor. Uss hal'luthi.ā€
His head tossed upward, frustration coloring his tone. He sighed then, switching back to ā€˜understandable tongueā€™ as Father had put it. His accent was not nearly as thick as hers, though it was creeping close to similar.
ā€œThis hall was empty, just me, before you and your gorraā€™h arrived.ā€

He chuckled at the word, a baleful sort of smile spreading on his lips as he tilted his head at the woman. ā€œYou did not kill him yet? I think I would have tried to, what with the pompous attitude. Cannot stand ā€˜nobility.ā€™ No respect given to others.ā€

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Character Portrait: Dreador Character Portrait: Iz'Hana Daudol
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"Whol nindel, dos orn naut tlu iff'brut," she murmured under her breath in response to his story. His language was slipping now, mixing with Zoltian as he lost it to emotion. Then it fell away completely. She rested back in a crouch, her face deadly serious at his little jests.

"I cannot."

She leaned forward, eyes scanning up his lean musculature, to the callouses on his hands. She made direct eye contact as she whispered, in a voice that sounded like a dragon slivering through its hoard,

"Ph'dos natha elggur?"

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Oh! What an interesting question, as abrupt as it was.
The response was difficult, the words coming out of Izā€™Hana in a manner that belied the thought put into each syllable.
ā€œMmā€¦ Natha elggur? Mayoe. Usstan elgg fuer'yonii, lu'nesstren vel'drav Usstan inbal ulu.ā€
He shifted, stretching his bones and joints with a racket of cracks and pops.
ā€œTelanth mzild ka udos rin'ov inbau doeb.ā€

Izā€™Hana smiled at her then, keeping his lips closed to avoid showing his teeth. Eventually, he relaxed again, letting himself ā€˜hangā€™ as it were. He spoke up soon after. ā€œOri'gato udossa telanth bauth folbol dkinoss, xal? Gumash dos tesso uns'aa vel'klar Usstan tlun? L'kaas d'nindol... klythmenvis?ā€

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Character Portrait: Dreador Character Portrait: Iz'Hana Daudol
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Back to the old tongues. Good. She needed nobody outside of this cage to understand what she was about to propose.

"Arc en Lume," she answered. "Wun natha tlarnia'l'en usstan shlu'ta xxizz inbau dos doeb del."

The corner of her mouth twitched up at the expression he held as those words sunk in. She crawled over, coming to rest her shoulder against the wall right beside him. She leaned in close, until he felt her breath tickling his pointed ear.

"L'gorra'h orn tlu doeb ulnin, lu'plynn uns'aa xuil ukta." She whispered, "Dos shlu'ta doer xuil udossa... Ka dos valm l'z'hind ulu l'noamuth dwen'del varash d'Gala-Dor. Nindyn ph'UKT tu'ix. Usst... ph'endar."

She pulled back, locking her sharp gaze with his. "Ditronw nin, uk ekkt ukt krug'ut ulu fuun nindol z'hind. Dos orn ssrig'luin ukta. Jhal h'uena udos ph'doeb d'nindol cha'kohkev che'el..."

Her lips drew back in snarl, revealing her pointed teeth, bright as a full moon against the night sky painted on her skin. Her silver collar crackled.

"Elgg l'gorrah. Elgg ukta, lu'usstan orn nau'thal dos ulu l'iiyola uk lac'na!" The anger in her eyes softened, until Iz'Hana saw something akin to helplessness reflected in those big, wet eyes. "Qualla."

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AnaĆÆs held the back of her wrist against her nose as she stepped into the room on the second floor of the Jackalope tavern. She winced at the musty smell of old wood and sharp, sour stench of dried alcohol which pervaded this place, not helped in the slightest by the brackish smell of the canals meeting the sea outside wafting through the cracked window. It had been easy enough to get the key - for all their reputation for discretion, the owner was remarkably amenable to petty bribes.

AnaĆÆs shut the door quietly behind her as her eye took in the scenes imprinted on the room. She brushed one finger lightly over the back of an unmarked chair near the center of the floor, watching wispy echoes of Hilgur tying and then untying his drow captive with lengths of rough, strong rope, saw him step across the room to place the rope down as the prepared to set out that morning. Her lip curled in disgust, and the rope vanished into her bag a moment later.

She looked to the desk next; hefty bags of coin were piled along one side of it in neat stacks. Two foreign hooked swords were bound together behind them. AnaĆÆs doubted they belonged to Hilgur. He seemed the type to favor something a bit moreā€¦ conventional. The drow's blades, then? No doubt tied together and kept here so she couldn't turn them against the one holding her chain. She picked them up gingerly by the end of their bindings, then grabbed the handles to keep the blades from penduluming toward her. AnaĆÆs doubted she'd be able to hide these easily, so after some quick thinking she slipped them out the window and onto the roof above the second floor. She wasn't sure she'd be able to retrieve them, but at least the clerics wouldn't find them.

She pulled herself back inside and turned back toward the desk. Across the face were strewn a number of unopened letters from various establishments. Most were likely rejections - the furrowed brow of frustration on the ghost of Hilgur's face as he tossed one of them onto the desk without opening it made that clear. A large sheet of parchment was held open next to them - a map of Zoltia, spiderwebbed by a series of seemingly random routes heading north, several of which were crossed out. Was this Hilgur's proclaimed map to Gala-Dor? AnaĆÆs almost scoffed at it, but something about itā€¦

She narrowed her eye, brushing her fingers lightly over the top of the map. There was a conviction to it that she couldn't quite shake, and...

She felt something, a slight bump like the map was laying on another document. She lifted it up gingerly, rolling it tightly and slipping it into her bag before turning her attention to what was underneath it. Another letter, it looked like, but this one bore the seal of the Sacred Flame. It was made from vellum, rather than letter parchment, and flipping it open she saw the name of the High Paladin scrawled across the bottom.

Not a letter, but a deed of sale. "Dreador LaRue." Surname notwithstanding, was that her name? AnaĆÆs's lips pressed into a thin line as the document disappeared somewhere into her robe. This was unfortunate. She hadn't lied on the bridge - she did recall the assassin from the Ducard incident had been recorded as lawfully executed. Which meant if Hilgur had also been telling the truth, their arrest was putting them both in far more danger than AnaĆÆs had intended.

The sound of footsteps approaching from down the hall. The guards wouldn't respond this quickly, would they? No, not for something like this, but with the right incentive, and given what she'd just uncoveredā€¦ AnaĆÆs's arm shot quickly across the table, making a mess of the letters before she stepped back as the knob on the door began to turn. Whoever they were, it should at least buy a bit of time before they found what they were looking forā€¦ or the lack there-of.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson Character Portrait: Maria Solaster Character Portrait: Orcimedes Lavatrina
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While the bandits circled the rampaging giant looking for an opening to attack, Maria slipped into their formation and yanked the leader off of his mount with a strong tug on his wrist right before the beast was upended and thrown to the floor by the orc. She glared at Orcimedes, her features rigid as her eyes studied his movements with something like a mix of disappointment and annoyance.

"Who said you could attack?" she said coldly. Her gaze traveled to the others -- Ashera, Esther, Serena -- but said nothing else.

Setting

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"What? Attack?" Asked Orcimedes, looking up at the cleric. Georgina took the opportunity to bite and scratch furiously at his hand, though he didn't seem to take notice of it. "I wanted to pet the hundur!" He justified with a look of minor offense as Georgina twisted out from under his grasp and pounced him to the floor.

The pair wrestled for superiority for an awkward minute and Georgina broke free, lunging at Maria and snarling. Orcimedes casually caught her by the reins and snapped her away with a level of force that may have broken a lesser creature's neck. She thrashed against his strength, dragging him slowly across the sewer floor.

"I mean... look how cute she is!" Georgina lunged at him. The sudden slack on the reins made him stumble and they tumbled around on the ground again like a massive, furry carriage wreck. Orcimedes found his feet and snatched the creature up by its neck, holding her at arms length while she scrabbled at his arm fruitlessly with her claws and tried to twist her head down to bite him. He squinted at her for a long moment, trying to hold his head farther away like an old man trying to read small print.

"Hmm... maybe it's a Djoahulzsukad," he muttered, stroking his beard thoughtfully with his free hand. She gained purchase in the stone somewhere and thrust her mass against his strength. Orcimedes' arm buckled, but he ducked under her snapping jaws and tackled her to the floor once more with a resounding thud! He held her firmly to the ground by the scruff and continued rubbing her belly with a child-like grin.

"But she's so sociable! Who's a good girl??"

Setting

6 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ashera Vallenai Character Portrait: Serena L'aporte Character Portrait: Esther Alfsson Character Portrait: Maria Solaster Character Portrait: AnaĆÆs Botrel Character Portrait: Orcimedes Lavatrina
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Estherā€™s strikes were swift, silent, and precise. It was as if the shadows themselves came alive to devour the bandits. Their screams dampened into choking gurgles, their blood a stark crimson against the ravenā€™s armour. Meanwhile, Asheraā€™s arrows pierced scrap iron and flesh alike as if they were butter. Her foresight was faster than the archersā€™ minds, and none managed to loose another arrow. Two fell from atop the platform, while one more slumped down into a heap. On the ground, the bandits who crowded Orcimedes met similar fates. One by one they fell, arrowheads punching through their chests and eyes.

A thundering boom followed Orcimedesā€™ mighty toss. Cracks formed on the stone floors, caved in by several tons of iron and muscle. Pieces of armour fell and scattered from Georginaā€™s body. The giant rat beast wiggled, her body limp and her tail flaccid. Her eyes spun, and spun, and spun. Orcimedesā€™ gargantuan, cackling form blurred in and out of her vision, coming in as afterimages which slowly merged into one, andā€¦

ā€Whoā€™s a good girl?!ā€

Georgina paused. She stared at her foe, upside down, mouth agape, eyes bulging wide, and her tongue draped over her snout. For a moment, Orcimedes could see confusion written all over her face. Or was it just rabies?

Meanwhile, the Bandit Lord clattered and rolled across the stone. He scrambled to his knees with his hands held high. Maria saw the white of his wide, fearstruck eyes in the shadows of his visor. He was disarmed, dismounted, and had just narrowly avoided a gruesome death. There was only one course of action. "WAIT! I yield!" He announced. "We were no match for your party, cleric. I will do whatever you ask, but pleaseā€¦!" He cast his gaze aside. "Please, grant mercy to the rest of my men."

The bandits lied upon puddles of their own blood. Most were still and cold, but a twitching, gasping few clung to the barest thread of life, Ashera's arrows having missed their vitals. A wounded archer reached for the sky with bone-thin fingers. "Witch...witchpowderā€¦ pleaseā€¦ give it to meā€¦"

The Bandit Lord sighed and averted his eyes. "Sad, isn't it? Once, we held the fate of Arc 'en Lume in our hands." He looked up. "These sewers were another city beneath the surface. We used to have lights everywhere. Lights, lifeā€¦ and believe it or not, the smell of garbage and piss was almost tolerable."

The Bandit Lord's voice darkened. "Then those witches came, peddling their accursed powders. So many of us couldnā€™t resist. It was only my father and his inner council, at first. But it spread like a plague, and those of our made men who didnā€™t die were reduced intoā€¦ā€

A dying bandit curled up upon the floor. He clawed at the air and spat out blood.

The Bandit Lord glanced mournfully. ā€œ...Beasts.ā€ He looked up towards Maria. ā€œI just want us to be free from this curse. This addiction. But a cure doesnā€™t come cheap or easy. Thatā€™s why we took her, the High Paladinā€™s granddaughter. Hortensia Hecate Halifax. We sent a letter of ransom, but our demands fell on deaf ears.ā€ He sighed. ā€œRest assured, I made sure my men left her unharmed.ā€

Meanwhile, Georgina continued to struggle under Orcimedesā€™ weight. Her pink paws clawed, flailed, and scratched against the orc, to little effect. ā€œRrrrroooooo!ā€ She growled through bared, dagger-like fangs in an impotent rage.




The footsteps grew louder. Keys clicked and rustled. The door knob turned, creaked, and opened wideā€¦

...And AnaĆÆs was greeted by the sight of a Sacred Flame guard. His helmet obscured his face, but his tensing body language betrayed his surprise. He drew his blade. ā€œHALT!ā€ Even against a seemingly unarmed woman, the guard would not take any chances. ā€œ Explain yourself, citizen. This room was registered to a dwarf and a drow. And you are neither.ā€ The guard stepped closer, his sabatons thudding against the wooden floorboards. ā€œSpeak quickly, before I clap you in irons.ā€