| Logs |
2002 January 19
| Inizii |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
 |
| Realms: Inizii Logs |
Ambush!
The spell of darkness fades away in tatters as Derleth's counterspell disrupts it. Kyrel is left facing the tiefling monk from a few feet away, mutually discomfited - the monk is not under the cover of darkness as he had hoped, and Kyrel's fire spell, although effective against a few of the attackers, missed its primary target completely.
The monk glares at Kyrel for a long moment, and then kicks into motion. He takes a few quick steps to bring him next to the half-elf, then seems to hop and is suddenly a flurry of limbs. An elbow slams into Kyrel's chest, spilling the wind from him. The monk continues to turn on his heel, using the momentum to drive another blow home - his other hand rises, fingers open in a crunching blow to the wizard's abdomen. The second strike is augmented; his bracers flare with an evil green light and the wizard feels a surge of nausea as he is struck. The contact is too quick for the magic to take full effect, fortunately for the half-elf, but even as the feeling dissipates the monk finishes his spin and snaps a kick into his stomach, the third blow nearly sending him to his knees. He sags back against the wall behind him, gasping for breath.
Both ends of the alley are blocked now by the monk's associates, who start advancing toward the small group. They look rough and capable - individually no match for the adventurers, but what they lack in experience they make up in numbers.
Silniya, a low growl issuing from her throat, charges toward the monk as he assaults the wizard. Her charge -and growl - gives pause to the thugs on that side of the alley. Drawing in on the tiefling, she lets her longsword lead in a quick swipe. The attack is faster than the monk expected and the blade sinks deep into his side. Blood spills out as the werewolf withdraws it, the green silks growing wet and black in the faint light.
Derleth doesn't know where to look first.....cursing Beshaba with all his heart...but as he seees the monk lay into Kyrel, he just reacts. Pulling his crossbow from his belt, he lines up and fires. The quarrel streaks in over Silniya's shoulder, but the monk sees it coming and his hand snaps up and knocks it out of the way to skip across the wall. This act heartens the thugs who had paused at the werewolf's growl, and with a ragged cheer they start toward the fight again.
One of the windows still glows a sullenly flickering red, and someone can be heard stumbling around and screaming. Apparently being set on fire hurts. Two other archers lean out, sighting on Derleth. One misses, but the second places an arrow in his upper arm. Derleth winces in pain, but otherwise ignores it and remains focused on the monk.
The fellow beside Derleth looks from one end of the alley to the other, gripping his rapier tightly. "Delightful," he says, in a tone dripping with sarcasm, and steps behind Derleth, putting his back to the cleric's. His weapon remains at the ready, guarding the man's back. "If you please, might you try and get a door open? Or get those window shutters open; I shouldn't be here..." His eyes turn back to the men advancing down the alley.
"Ah'm a preist, nae a battering ram..." Derleth retorts as he drops the crossbow, switching his flail to his right hand.
"Then you know that living offers a chance to fight another day!" the swordsman replies. "And running helps too, I'll add."
Derleth rolls his eyes. "Less talk, more fight, pretty boy."
Silniya, despite her snarling, obviously angry disposition and fierce body language, is not the least bit intimidating to the monk. He glares back, and a foot snaps up, kicking the werewolf's wrist. The blow loosens her grip and lets the monk knock the sword from her hand with an open-palmed blow against the flat of the blade. Once she's disarmed, the monk drops in a move to trip her, but she leaps contemptuously over the sweep and dodges his following strike. Suddenly realizing who he's facing, the tiefling backs up, letting some of his minions come forward. Two of them move between the monk and the werewolf, brandishing weapons washed with silver and trying to pin her against the wall.
She steps back, snarling, and gauges them quickly before slashing out at the fellow on her left. Her shortsword catches him in the chest, slicing partially through his armour, even as he retaliates by opening up a long gash along her ribs with the silvered blade.
At the other end of the alley, more bodies slide into the darkness, hugging the walls carefully, and advancing steadily on the foppish fellow guarding Derleth's back. The first raises his blade, letting it glint in the dim light, before violently stabbing - and missing. The fellow retaliates, his action both more economical and more effective, and the rapier quietly slides into the thug's side.
Bleeding from the wounds produced by the silvered blades, and partly disarmed by the monk, the werewoman does what she can. Her assault is two-fold; the ruffian almost stops the shortsword that gashes him across the ribs, but the werewolf uses her teeth as well, and she tears a chunk from his shoulder with a bone-crushing bite.
Kyrel backs away from the fight as far as he can, barely conscious after the beating the Wind gave him. He sticks to the shadows along the wall, and quickly drinks his last flight potion. A moment later, he is moving again - quickly upwards along the wall until he is out of range of the monk, and then over the building opposite the first window he attacked to get out of sight of as many of the archers as he can. One of them sees him, and shouts into the building. "Wizard!" The archers in the other windows pass on the call from their posts.
Derleth grimaces, not liking the odds at all....despite the fact that the warehouse could have all sorts of traps and men inside, it's a better shot than nothing at all. Leaving the fop's side, he goes back to the door he was preparing to bash in, and tries again. The second blow splinters the lock, and the door gives slightly.
The archers again pop out, some aiming at the cleric and others at the wizard. One arrow sinks into Derleth's back, stopped by his armor from penetrating anything vital, and another hits Kyrel in the leg. Kyrel is just getting reoriented over the roof when the arrow hits him. The shock is more than he can handle after the abuse he absorbed from the monk, and he collapses onto the roof of the building.
The tiefling, seeing the battle is going well, simply leaps onto the wall next to him. Like a spider, he clambers up, and the archer moves out of his way, letting him disappear into the building.
Derleth staggers slightly as the arrow pierces his armor, but he recovers quickly, prepared to hack the door to pieces if necessary.
The fop, seeing that the situation is looking grim, starts fighting even harder. He parries another blow aimed at him, and lets the point of his rapier find the heart of the foe who struck at him. The man staggers back, clutching his wound, and a club-wielding half-orc takes the dead man's place. "Delightful," sneers the fellow.
The thugs facing the werewolf slash at her again. One opens a second scratch along her ribs with a silvered blade - the other, in spite of a berserk howling attack, misses badly. At the other end of the alley, the fop defends himself, but his rapier can't parry the heavy club wielded by the half-orc, and he takes a painful blow to his ribs.
From Silniya's side of the alley comes a piercing, feral howl. She lunges, jabbing her blade into the gut of the thug on her right, his previous escape from injury coming to an abrupt end as the blade slips into his stomach. She advances on the one who's already been wounded. He backs away, but she pounces - and this time, her teeth find his throat. A gout of gore splashes her face as she rips his neck open. With her hackles raised, blood coating otherwise white teeth, and the shortsword's blade dripping, she's quite a sight. Her last opponent decides to run instead of facing her. She moves to the side and retrieves her longsword. "Who's next?"
Kyrel groans and opens his eyes again. Ooooh, what happened? The sounds of fighting still drift up from the alley below, competing with the more normal night sounds of the city from farther away. But as Kyrel returns to reality, he notices a trapdoor that is stealthily being opened. He blinks back the pain as he notices that. Crap. This is not good. He mutters the syllables of Invisibility and fades from view.
Derleth, taking his flail up once more, hammers at the door. However, it does little good; another scrape.
From the darker mouth of the trap door come the shapes of three of the archers, bent over to stay in cover, as they scan the roof intently. "He's got to be here somewhere", one of them mutters, while the other two spread out, one covering the alley while the other covers the skies. The third just looks intently around him. Meanwhile the archers still in the windows lean over, scanning silently, before fixing on the blood and gore bespattered shape of Silniya, as she leans over the dead thugs. One arrow flies high, but the other two land, slicing through her thigh and forearm, causing long but shallow scratches. She yelps in pain. "Gods-damned silver! To the nine hells with the miners, the smiths, and a curse on the heads of all cowardly archers!" Her rant doesn't distract her from the reinforcements headed her way.
The foppish fellow guarding Derleth lashes out with his rapier, opening a slash on the half-orc's face. The second thug sticks close to the wall of the alley, trying to get past him. He doesn't succeed, but he does manage to cut the fellow.
Silniya pauses a moment as the reinforcements advance. Scenting a kill, she waits patiently while they advance, slashing out when they get within reach, and scores a solid hit on one. Her teeth bared, she dares them to retaliate, and laughs when they miss. The thugs seem none too intimidated, one stepping over the torn corpse of his comrade. The cut across his chest seems minor, and he comes in, a silvered spiked mace ready to bash the woman - and he's suddenly staring in shocked surprise as he's gutted, two slices across his stomach sending innards in a spill onto the bloody ground. She gives a bloody smile to the other tough as she steps back, blades ready.
Kyrel shakes his head, still trying to clear it. The potion is still active, he can feel it. And it's only a matter of time before one of them steps on me here. Time to move. He drifts up into the sky, warning the worried Kiri to stay away for now.
Derleth stares hotly at the door that refuses to give, starting to feel the pain of the arrows embedded in his hide. He backs up, and then charges the door, trying to batter it down with all the force his small body can muster. It cracks, finally, splitting with a horrid sound, and Derleth pitches forward on his knees on top of the remains. He looks up in time to see a man approaching from the inside of the warehouse. One of the archers, he was starting up a ladder to the upper floor when Derleth broke through. He pauses, then drops his unloaded crossbow and yanks out a short sword.
The archers in the windows, sighting carefully, shoot down at the feral gory monster in the alley, but only one of the arrows finds its mark. They've run out of silvered arrows, and the werewolf simply ignores it, looking over her shoulder to the open door. One of the archers searching for the mage takes and misses a shot at Derleth. The other two archers remain immobile, scanning the sky and roof slowly, ready to shoot the wizard should he show himself.
Thrust, parry, thrust, parry, the fop dodges attacks, and scores a stab through the forearm of the shortsword wielding bravo. He's not doing much damage, but they remain unable to get past him.
A new thug approaches Silniya more slowly. He takes a moment to take in the carnage, before audibly gulping and advancing on her, blade raised. His faltering attack is easily deflected by the werewolf, though he manages to avoid her blade in return. Her blade flashes through the air; catching and foiling both his attack and his partner's. The fop uses a less showy but equally successful technique, dodging away from both the rogue and the orc.
Another moment, and Silniya's newest enemy takes her blade in his thigh. He screams, drops his sword and grasps the wound - and leaves his throat open. Crouching slightly, she snaps her weapon up and cuts his throat. He falls, mortally wounded, and she quickly backs up past the pile of bodies she's left before her. The other bravo, still unhurt, but all the more wary, watches her leave, and notes she's getting ever closer to that open door.
Kyrel drifts in the air above the warehouse, silent and invisible. It finally penetrates his stupor that he has a healing potion in his bag, and he gets it out and drinks it.
The short sword wielding tough eyes Derleth, and takes a step closer, drawing in a crouch. He gestures with his sword, eyes glinting. A beckoning motion. "C'mon."
Derleth takes a shuddering breath, hunkered over and covered with splinters from the door. He suddenly yells a feral roar of defiance, a surprising amount of sound from such a small one, as he leaps to the attack! His first swing connects solidly with the tough's head. He lets out a Squeak!, hissing in pain. His features begin to distort, changing, face elongating, teeth pointier, digits longer, a ropelike tail beginning to draw out behind him...and the cleric's second blow comes, cracking the changling's skull, and dropping him to the floor, where he reverts back to human.
Derleth stares in shock, the anger that brimmed within him falling away as he views the shapechanger.
The archers lean over, sighting carefully on Silniya, and loosing their arrows. Some of the arrows miss, but two score solid hits, landing with meaty thuds, and driving her - for a moment - to her knees. Her eyes narrow, as she measures the distance to the door. The remaining two archers peer intently upwards, straining with eye and ear to spot the mage ...
Disoriented by the carnage surrounding him, Silniya's opponent waves his sword weakly, hoping she won't make too much of a counter attack. He eyes the alleyway behind him, wishing he could escape. Meanwhile the fop is being harder pressed as both the orc and the rogue get their licks in, slicing up his ribs.
Silniya comes on strong, fighting for her life and her companions. The first slash does nothing to her assailant, but the second one stabs him cruelly in the leg. Leaving him wounded, the wolf turns, and dives into the doorway, cloak and fur drenched in blood, some of it her own, bristling with arrows.
Kyrel sees Silniya disappear into the building, and notes that Derleth is already gone. He changes his mind about trying to make fried archers and follows them instead, flying down from the roof and in through the same door, silently and invisibly.
Footsteps thud overhead, on the second floor.
Kyrel takes a quick look around the inside, and whispers, "I'm here. I'll stay invisible until I can take a surprise shot."
Derleth is frozen in a moment of indecision....finally, coming up with a plan, he calls out the door. "Git yer ass in here, fancypants!" He goes over to the badly wounded Silniya then, calling forth one useless prayer to feed a powerful healing.
The inside of the warehouse is barren, except for a few boxes. There's a sharp hiss, from the top of nearby box; an enormous rat crawls out of a hole onto it's top.
The cleric's spell closes some of the wounds in the shaking, blood drenched hybrid's form, one of the closing wounds actually pushing an embedded arrow out of her back. She's shuddering, clutching her weapon, nostrils dilated, a cadence of whimpering snarls. "Hate silver. I really hate silver...."
The nobleman parries a shortsword, and smirks. "I so enjoy the dance, gentlemen but... Oh, forget it. I'm wasting wit on the unarmed." With that, he puts the point of his rapier into the half orc's eye, and turns, taking a glancing arrow across his forehead and a second in his hip as he dives through the door.
The ladder begins to rattle as someone comes through the opening at the top. "C'mon! They're down here!"
Derleth quickly hands a potion to Silniya, as he expects he's going to need to pay attention to the door that the fop careened through in short order.
Kyrel grins as the three thugs try to push through the door all at once. Just what I've been waiting for. The lightning bolt spell rips through the three and across the alley behind them. He blinks back into view as the invisibility spell is disrupted by the attack, hovering midway to the ceiling.
The warehouse is lit for a moment in blue-violet balefire as Kyrel's bolt blasts through the door. The foppish nobleman stops as the bolt just misses him. It blasts through the first thug in the door, and catches the side of another one right behind him. The half-orc in the middle was quick enough to hide behind the first corpse, and though singed survived the blast. He jumps out, bringing his spiked club against Derleth's helmet, making his ears ring. Derleth grunts as he's taken unawares, the hit making his head throb. He spins around then with his flail still in his fist, and slams it into the fellow's jaw.
Instead of drinking the potion, the werewoman moves, and nearly pounces on the half-orc, but her wounds throw her off, one of the arrows still stuck in her thigh catching and eliciting a yelp of pain. She backs off, limping.
The nobleman, watching all of this, offers helpfully, "I think it best perhaps we run?"
Kyrel says, "Is there an exit we can get to?"
A glance around shows that there are doors on the other side of the warehouse, not too far off.
Shouts come from outside, in the alley. The fellow coming down the ladder hisses, his form starting to ripple. The stench of the sewer is heavy around the archers.
Kyrel points across the room. "Shall we see if we can get out that way?"
Derleth nods hastily as he weaves his hands, preparing a spell.
Silniya nods to Derleth, and reclaims the potion, quaffing it in one gulp, and looking better nearly instantly, though not fully healed.
The fellow from the ladder changes fully, dirty brown fur covering his form, the rat-tail snapping like a whip. Yellow teeth line a sharp rodent muzzle. He brings up another short sword, devoid of silver, and approaches, hissing menacingly.
The fop takes off running toward the other end of the warehouse after one look at the were-rat. Derleth looks at it with eyes that would burn rock. It's interesting to note his accent dissapears completely when praying to Lliara. "I am Her servant, brave and bold....in Lliara's name I charge thee, hold!" he snarls, thrusting his holy symbol at the man-beast.
The wererat stiffens, the spell rolling over him. His mouth opens in protest...and doesn't close, the beast stuck solid.
The stench of the sewers gets worse, as more footsteps pound on the floor above.
Silniya, sheathing her shortsword, takes a glance towards the open door. There are sounds of footsteps out there, as well. "I'm with the frumpy one."
Derleth still has arrows embedded in his own flesh, and he feels the warm trickle of blood under his armor. "Aye. We canna face such superior numbers an' expect to win."
Kyrel nods. "She was either not a real priestess - and haven't they been careful to be guarded? Or it's too late." He moves to follow the other fellow. "Let's see if we can make it out of here alive, eh?"
The swordsman, an axe wielding tough crumpled at his feet, swings the door to the outside out of the way. "C'mon! I know a hiding place!"
Derleth nods, and points a stubby finger at the held were-rat. "Ye'll face us again, vermin. An' end up dead lak yer kin," he snarls, indicating the fallen swordsman bleeding on the floor.
With all haste the four hurry from the warehouse, leaving behind the few ruffians more eager to face them than their employers. The nobleman leads the way through twists, turns, alleys and byways, slipping through a closed shop at one point, until the four arrive in the upper class section of the city. He passes what could looks like a wall branching out of the city's surrounding wall and points to a crack. "In here!"
Derleth waits for Sil and Ky to pass through, as they are both far more wounded than he.
The two move into the crack, though Silniya is a tight fit. Beyond the passage, lies...what could be one of the most magificent gardens in the city. Stone walls surround the small area, no bigger then twenty feet all around, but it seems larger. Flower-sprouting ivy runs up the walls and all sorts of other flowers ring the area, each in a patch of garden with pathways separating them. The moonlight plays upon the area, making each flower shine with celestial silver overtones. And in the center is a fountain where stone Tressym, winged felines, perch and spout water which seems to glow with its own radiance. The rim is decorated in beautiful floral patterns.
Derleth blinks as he takes in the beauty, wondering just who it was that She sent into the path of the party....and then, looking at the stone statues, he realizes, looking at the fop in a new, if still skeptical, light.
Kyrel stops just inside the wall, looking around in surprise. "I'm very impressed. Where are we?"
Derleth murmurs. "A holy place o' Sune, unless Ah miss mah teachings completely."
Kyrel looks around... "The cats?"
Derleth nods slightly. "They be the Lady of Beauty's servants."
The noblemen nods his head, sheathing his sword. "Yes..." He walks toward the fountain, and dips a clean kerchief into the water, using it to wipe off his face. "A shrine, in fact. We should be safe; this place is magically hidden from the eyes of those who would do harm to it, as are those who dwell within."
Derleth eyes the dandy. "Be ye one o' her worshippers then? Or sommat more than that?"
The fellow smiles, as he leans against the fountain's edge. "Just a worshipper. But I know the cleric who tends to the garden."
Derleth ahs. He is not cold, but experience teaches him to mistrust any that follow Sune...and her clerics even less. "On behalf o' me an mine, ah wish t' thank ye for standing yer ground and fighting with us, sir."
Kyrel nods. "I think that's all that saved us. Is there anything we can do to repay you?"
The dandy shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, a grin. "Lady in distress; I had to come to her aid. And so I was dropped into the fray with you." A wave of his hand, at the offer. "Nah, there's really nothing you can offer I'd want."
Silniya, having changed, is huddled in what's left of her gore soaked cloak. "I want to go home..."
Derleth looks to Silniya, his brow knitting with concern as he looks over her remaining wounds. "How be ye?" he says softly.
"I'm alive," she responds drearily.
Derleth concentrates on nothing else but Silniya for a moment, as he calls forth Lliara's light to heal. The wounds seal up, and she nods a quiet "Thank you." But the warrior's eyes can't seem to find the cleric's. He looks concerned, but decides not to pursue it now, instead going to Kyrel and seeing how badly the monk got him.
Derleth might make notice of the dandy who's moved up beside him, before he walks to Kyrel. The woman glances up, and notes the nobleman offering her his wet kerchief. She nods silently and takes it, and begins wiping the drying blood from her face. Derleth spares only a brief look, too tired for even a germ of irritation, but notices the fellow's injuries. "D'ye need healing, too? Ye took a beating..."
The nobleman does look pretty badly banged up. "Just enough. That hit to the hip made running hurt." He offers a hand. "Talbot Foxmantle."
Derleth takes it briefly. "Derleth o' Lliara. The swordlady be Silniya, and Kyrel our able spellslinger. Nae...let me see t' those cuts." His eyes widen as he sees the damage. "God, man, how d'ye manage t' stay upright..."
A light chuckle, and a hidden wince. "Well, I wanted to get out of there. The smell wasn't very friendly." He seems much more at ease, as the cleric heals those aches and pains.
Silniya tips her head. "Not that I much care for the horned spider, but I think we need to steer clear of the tiefling."
Talbot waves the hands away, as the cleric offers another spell of healing. "I'll live..."
Derleth looks at his companions. "D' we feel up to meeting the trapmaster? Or should we call it a bad night?"
Kyrel says, "We'd better go meet him. I doubt he'll be happy if we beg off and then want another meeting later."
Derleth nods briefly, but then looks to Sil. "Kin ye stand our holding off our rest a while, lady?" he murmurs, laying a hand on her shoulder.
Silniya rubs her forehead. She nods to Derleth. "I need some pants." Then, after pondering. "He did say if we had to call it off, to leave a note. Personally, I think we he had our asses handed to us tonight; we got away, sure. But do you think it's wise, us marching into another likely nest of Talonites, just waiting on us?"
Derleth manages to take Sil's first comment without blushing. "Ah d'nae, Sil. This ambush...was on their terms. Takin' on the guild house'll be ours. Might be they'll ne'er expect us t' try something again so soon.
"We killed the imp," she says. "Wouldn't that alert someone?"
Derleth shrugs. "Donnae. The imp wasn't killed in the guild, after all...an' they might think it gone, and nae dead, less the gnome told them."
Silniya shrugs her shoulders. She glances at Kyrel. "Do you feel safe, going down there? You didn't waste many spells, yes?"
Kyrel says, "That'd alert them for an entrance at the guild house, if anything. I had the impression the... " He looks at Derleth, then grins. ".. that our contact wasn't planning to go in that way." He nods to Silniya. "I've still got most of my spells and the crystal wand. I'm loaded for bear still with heavy spells."
She nods, then glances back to the Lliaran. "And, you? Do you think you can still bring us more healing, or are you tapped out?"
Derleth smiles gamely. "Easily dear lady. An ah still have both me most powerful offense at me beck and call." He takes a brief moment to tend to his own wounds as something tickles at the edge of his memory. "Then again....Ky, didnae you say that imp said sommat about a rakshasa?"
Kyrel nods. "He did, yes."
Silniya peers from one to the other. "And... what's that? Do we need to prepare anything special? Holy water? Cold iron? They have paticular immunities?"
Derleth frowns, trying to recall if he learned anything about Rakshasa in the seminary.... and he suddenly grimaces. "Ah, fewmets. Ah'd almost fergotten. Only a blessed bolt kin kill thae fuckers....an me, ah have nae prayed for a weapon blessing in many moons."
Silniya frowns. "And, there's a chance we could run up against one...?" She glances at her sword. "The enchantment perhaps isn't strong enough..."
Derleth sighs. "It just smacks wrong, it do. Ahm tired o being on th' defensive....but iff'n we not be prepared, we not be prepared." He taps his chin. "Unless....we kin get some blessed arrows for thy bow, Ky."
Talbot glances over, joining into the conversation. "Why not ask your church?"
Derleth says, "From Ilmater's get, or me own, mayhap?"
Kyrel chuckles. "Not like I'm that good a shot.
Derleth considers. "Well, with both ye and me...Ah'll have t' pick up anudder crossbow, as Ah left behind the one I purchased..."
Silniya raises a hand. "I'm good with a bow." She glances to Derleth. "So, to your church, then?"
Kyrel says, "Briefly, I think. We have an appointment to make."
Derleth smiles at Sil. "Aye. Ahm suddenly in the mood fer Rakshasa barbeque...."
She nods. "Then, we'll head that way. And, yes... I need to grab some clothes."
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