Kiyoka

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Re: Kiyoka

Postby Sareth » July 16th, 2008, 4:13 pm

"It'd certainly be a cleaner job," I quiped. I was now covered in the blood of two different people. Arty had been rather messy. "Probably hurt less too," I winced. The body had landed rather hard, and I'd been rather abused to begin with. I shrugged my way out of the remains of the ropes. "Thanks."

Looking around for my pistols, I swore. One had been taken from me by Arty Oh, there it is. In his belt but I had dropped the other when I fell. Well, based off my direction of travel when I hit the dirt, it would have skidded right over there. And, in fact, there it was.

I hope that puddle was water from a rain storm.

Anyway, now re-armed, I glanced towards the warehouse.

"Something saved my butt earlier by taking a shot at these yahoos," I explained. "And it sounds like it fell in. You wouldn't happen to know where that blue skinned gremlin got off to, would you?"

I was debating entering. Gollums likely were not worth it. We could dash for the boat and go. But at the same time, she had saved me. What to do... what to do...
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Re: Kiyoka

Postby Graybeard » July 16th, 2008, 4:43 pm

The stupidly aggressive Small One was picking himself up off the floor where he'd landed after running into the globe; Grope could finally see him, just barely. He didn't have a shot yet, but soon, soon. It wouldn't be perfect -- he'd have to twist the bow slightly to avoid scraping it on the low (10-foot) ceiling -- but at this distance, it shouldn't matter.

The opportunity wasn't long in coming, in fact. It was still dark in the corridor, but the light in the office at the far end left Charlie silhouetted nicely when he moved forward. He drew his handgun with one hand and turned on a hand torch with the other, and was just starting to turn toward the south when Grope's bow twanged.

His aim was a lot better this time, he noted with satisfaction, as the arrow buried itself in the Small One's chest, severing his aorta and not doing much good to the heart it was attached to. Maybe it was just his imagination, but he thought he could see surprise on the man's face, and a reflex took over as Charlie's consciousness ebbed; he fired his gun at whatever it happened to be pointing at at the time, which in fact was his own thigh -- not that it mattered. The man slumped to the ground as the flash-boom echoed in the hallway.

That did it. "GAAAA! Springheel Jack! You were right! He's here!" Lefty screamed, and Louie echoed, "Hell with this, let's get out of here! Head for the safe house!" And Grope could hear two sets of running feet hurtle through the ruined front door and head inland, only to be met by other sounds of violence.

Progress, he thought, as he carefully approached the dying man to take his Wisdom. There had been six of the mercenaries to start with. Amos was splattered in the middle of the street after dying on the roof top; Arty had presumably bled dry; Charlie was still twitching in his death agonies in the foyer; and Lefty and Louie were in flight, or maybe being dealt with by "Jamie" and his/her approaching companions. And he was pretty sure he could track them to the safe house, or farm house, or whatever it was, if they were still ambulatory.

But where was Fred?
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Re: Kiyoka

Postby Sareth » July 16th, 2008, 4:52 pm

Hearing the pitter patter of running feat, I did what was instinct for all of us.

I drew and put three bullets through the chest of the leading man.

In truth, it was probably a good thing. After all, the darned fool was screaming about "Springheel Jack." Taking him out before he bred (at least, I hope he hadn't bred yet) was probably doing the world a favor. It certainly was doing the Gewehr a favor.

A second figure was skidding to a halt beside the body.
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Kiyoka: Grope

Postby Graybeard » July 16th, 2008, 6:46 pm

[OOC: Sorry, Viking ol' buddy ol' pal, but I need to borrow your golem and your character for a moment to close a loop. Hope you don't mind and can run with it.]

The Small One stopped twitching, stopped breathing. Grope knelt for the ritual: smear blood on the Robe, take a swatch of skin, lick his fingers. At first he thought it might be necessary to do all of this messily, as the arrow wound had been surprisingly clean, but when the man discharged his Thundering Metal Thing into his own leg, it provided more than adequate quantities of gore for the job.

But this Wisdom was ... uncomfortable. It wasn't just the evil of the man's recently-departed soul; he'd learned long ago to take the good with the bad on that count. Rather, it was a matter of content. This Small One knew something that was going to make a most unwelcome addition to his own Wisdom, although he couldn't yet fathom what it was. He thought for a moment, then discarded the scrap of skin he'd picked up to merge into the Robe, thinking that he'd probably wish that he'd taken it at some unknowable point in the future. It wouldn't be the first time ...

And now, to get out and get on with it -- whatever "it" was. There had been more gunshots from about where the initial firefight had broken out, and even though the sound of it suggested that "Jamie" and his(?) friends(?) were winning, he'd really had enough gunplay for now. He decided to exit, sword close at hand, via the large southern door, at the opposite end of the warehouse from the melee noises. He bent to the ground to listen before rolling it up, heard nothing outside that he recognized, listened again, decided the coast was clear. The door flew open (it was balanced so that muscles less powerful than a troll's could raise it) and he stepped outside -- and realized that he wasn't alone.

Standing in the wide alley, and looking at least as surprised as he was, were three Small-One-sized figures. One looked vaguely familiar and was staring at him wide-eyed. Another was wearing the same uniform as the other mercenaries -- Fred, presumably -- and was struggling in the grasp of the third figure, with a hand clamped over his mouth. But it was the third figure that caught his attention, and caused a surge of terror that washed over him for what seemed like forever, even though it really only lasted a second or two.

The third figure was a female Small One glowing pale blue. Her grip on the mercenary was like iron, and she stared at the troll with expressionless, unnatural eyes, as though she could grab him with the other hand and hold him as easily as she was holding Fred.

Magic, Grope thought; big magic. Trolls hated magic, except for what was wielded by their females. Hated, and particularly, feared magic. His knees weakened, his head spun -- or was that just the loss of blood from his injuries? Whatever it was, it lifted when the first Small One looked at him with astonishment and said, "Grope?"

Now he remembered who the man was, and it was much better news than he'd been expecting. "Frrriennnd Llluucass?" he rumbled. And as he did, the wind changed, bearing the vile stench of the Many-Fathers-God-Wisdom-Robe, and the decades worth of blood and gore that had accumulated on and in it, to the man's nostrils.

Lucas sniffed, let out a loud "PEEYYYEWWW!", gagged, and fainted dead away. A kitten lifted briefly into the air from atop his head, then settled back where it had come from.

Well, nice to see you, too.
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Re: Kiyoka

Postby Viking-Sensei » July 16th, 2008, 10:12 pm

Lucas woke up, his mouth tasting faintly of cobblestone... which was never a good sign. His eyes struggled for a second to focus, and of course when they did he regretted it. The Wraith (if you could call him that*) that had attacked him was now lying on the ground next to him, presumably dead from Golem-related-injuries. Or, as his nose came back online and he remembered that he'd just run into an old "friend" of his, it's possible they could also have been Grope-related-injuries. He didn't look. His shoulder also hurt... a lot.

As he struggled to stand, he saw that Ayiee had assumed a defensive posture over his prone body, and was glaring down (as only she could) the massive hulking frame of the troll. "Stand down, Ayiee, this is a friendly unit."

Ayiee tilted her head, processing. "Friend - Understood." Then stepped back, still somewhat menacingly, but out of the immediate "I'm-gonna-put-the-hurt-on-you" range.

"Grope!" Lucas said, turning to his old aquaintance. "What in the hell are you doing this far south? Not that I'm not pleased to see you, but I sort of figured an island full of magic users would be the last place I'd expect to run into you again..."

He wobbled again, barely managing to stand. Ayiee moved swiftly over and caught him. "Observation: You are - injured." she reported, pulling back his jacket to reveal a growing red spot on the right shoulder of his shirt. "Query: You were - shot?"

Lucas indicated to the prone body at his feet. "The bastard clipped me... thought it was just a scratch, but he must've checked me better than I thought. I'll be fine."


*OOC Note: Lucas had met some Wraiths in the past (as indicated by him owning a pair of old Wraith pistols), and while they were a cutthroat bunch of assassins, they weren't quite the up-front thuggish goons these guys are.
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Kiyoka: Grope

Postby Graybeard » July 16th, 2008, 10:43 pm

The weird blue woman flinched as Lucas hit the ground. The thug ("Fred"?) saw the collapse of the other Small One as an opportunity to make a break for it, which was not only a bad idea, but the last one he ever had. It would have required a high-speed camera to tell what caused his death, a golem's fist caving in his skull or a troll's sword bisecting his heart, but the result was the same either way. Grope knelt to do the Wisdom ceremony, as usual, but something in the blue woman's demeanor stopped him short. He didn't normally feel intimidated by any Small One ... but this was a magical Small One, and that changed everything.

The Small One Lucas groaned and wobbled to a sitting position as the blue woman fussed over him, then stepped back. Grope could see a spreading blood stain on the man's shirt, judged the wound to be serious but not life threatening -- probably. (He checked his own wounds again; still messy but not serious.) The man asked, "What in the hell are you doing this far south? Not that I'm not pleased to see you, but I sort of figured an island full of magic users would be the last place I'd expect to run into you again..." and groaned again as the blue woman fussed over him some more.

Grope was surprised, and more than a little concerned. It hadn't been that long since they'd worked together, and it had been precisely on this "island full of magic users" that it had happened -- well, in the waters offshore, to be more exact, but same general idea. Was Lucas having a memory problem because of his wound? Or was he trying to convey some hidden meaning that Grope was missing? He decided to keep his answer simple and accurate, if not necessarily complete, and tried to pitch his voice up into a range more like that of the Small Ones.

"I am looking for ... my ... mate." That got him a blank stare from the blue woman, and a puzzled look from Lucas. Yes, the man was in shock from his wound, Grope decided; Zhbrigeeul had been along on several of their more ... memorable ... prior encounters, and there was no way that the man would have forgotten her if he was in his right mind. Time to change the subject and focus on the problem at hand.

"Friend Lucas, you are hurt. We must get help." And he noticed that the blue woman's color changed ever so slightly as he spoke. "Observation: you are injured," she (it?) intoned, for the second time.

[OOC: The bad guys in this have clearly been called "Gewehr" in the thread, but I don't think they've been called "Wraiths." We should probably look for a way to resolve that, but Grope doesn't know anything about them that would help with that -- yet.]
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Re: Kiyoka

Postby Viking-Sensei » July 17th, 2008, 6:26 am

Bob hovered over Lucas' shoulder, casting his pre-installed healing spell... the magic wasn't very strong, but it was good enough to staunch the bleeding and numb the pain, however he was still going to need some more directed healing (or, you know time) to get his arm fully operational. Lucas examined his patchwork coat, which now sported two holes (one in front, one in back) and memories flooded back to him...

Standing in a grassy plain, a nearly feral Lucas faced off against three massive trolls. This was the wild time, months after he had been teleported accidentally into the wilds of the north, into the thick of the trolls, and far enough away from what he considered civilization to care anymore. His clothes were in tatters, his face covered in a mixture of dried blood and dried mud, and his hair was a shock of wild black but was graying at the roots. As the trolls, each easily twice his size, moved in for the kill, Lucas lunged - fists and feet flying, he leapt off the first one, planting both badly damaged boots square into it's chest, then landed 'round the neck of the second and started clubbing it in the head with doubled-up fists. It roared and twisted, trying to fling him of, allowing Lucas purchase to probably break it's neck as he swung around... as it fell, he kicked down again, flying backwards and hitting the third troll square in it's chest with his shoulder. The first troll, however, got off a lucky hit to the back of the wild human's head while he was distracted...

Lucas tumbled to the ground, barely conscious, only vaguely aware of what was going on around him. After a brief discussion of what to do with the feisty human, the general consensus was to cook him, as they hadn't had a decent boil up in a few weeks and they knew someone who had a pot they could use. Before the could enact their plan, however, two more trolls appeared, one of whom could do magic, and chased the remaining duo off. Lucas's next memories were of waking up somewhere very warm and dark, which smelled very bad, and being returned his coat... the female (he deduced she was female, anyway) had repaired it using bits of hide, some of which he suspected may have been from the troll he felled. He shakily put it on, unsure of what was going on, and suddenly he felt markedly better and now the words the trolls were speaking were making a lot more sense to him... perhaps she had woven some of her troll magic into it while repairing it... Zhbrigeeul...


Lucas' vision swam, looking back and forth from his golem to the hulking troll figure. "I think... we need to keep moving. The rest of the party were headed towards the docks, hopefully they've managed to dodge the other thugs better than we did. Grope, mind filling me in as we walk? I think I'm missing something here..."

[OOC - GB, I had alluded that Lucas had a patchwork leathery coat before, and I figured that this works good as a tie-in to your ongoing Troll mythos... after seeing his actions as worthy of note, Zhbrigeeul "upgraded" Lucas' coat to a lesser version of the Robe, repairing it using some of the troll he'd killed barehanded, the subsequent magic side effect being that it increased his understanding of what was going on and made the trolls less likely to view him as "just another human", allowing him a degree of protection when crossing the wilds and a sliver of understanding of all things trollish. If this is contradictory to your intentions, I can retcon it out, I just thought it was a neat chance to tie things in.]
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Re: Kiyoka

Postby Graybeard » July 17th, 2008, 9:04 am

Grope watched wide-eyed as the kitten cast what was very obviously a healing spell. Cats with magical capabilities? He'd never seen anything like it. As he marveled, he realized that the Small One was speaking to him...
"I think... we need to keep moving. The rest of the party were headed towards the docks, hopefully they've managed to dodge the other thugs better than we did. Grope, mind filling me in as we walk? I think I'm missing something here..."

And in turn, his own memories came flooding back.

It was highly unusual, to put it mildly, for Mr. Stagpoole to take multiple passengers on his "special" boat, but he'd decided to take the chance just this once. He'd dealt with Lucas before and knew he was trustworthy, and as for the trolls, he had his own ... personal ... reasons for helping them out. But it looked as though he might pay for this breach of his own procedures with his life, as the Farrelian pirate ship bore down on them; more heavily loaded than usual, he didn't have the speed and maneuverability to get away. Flame flashed from the pirates' front cannon, and a cannonball roared through the space between the ships, neatly decapitating Jonesy, Mr. Stagpoole's deck hand, as it passed barely over the deck and sizzled into the ocean. As soon as the pirates drew alongside and were positioned to fire a broadside, he realized, he was screwed; his own weaponry wasn't going to make a dent in that ship. But then the hatch to the carefully-hidden "special" cabins opened, and a human and two trolls came on deck, followed by Keyes, the other deck hand. The trolls paused at Jonesy's headless body, looked at each other, but decided this wasn't the time for religion.

"Big trouble here," Mr. Stagpoole announced. "I'm sorry I got you people into this." He winched the wheel to starboard, just in time for another cannonball to roar harmlessly overhead -- but the gap between the ships was closing. The male troll drew himself up to his full height and inspected the situation, then turned to his mate and spoke in the snarling, growling troll language. Lucas, looking pale, whispered to Mr. Stagpoole, "they're deciding what to do... Ah!" They had made a decision. The male spoke to Mr. Stagpoole: "We ... will ... fight. Let us kill the pirates; we desire their Wisdom of the sea." And suddenly Lucas realized that he, too, had to fight -- and he had some resources for doing it that the others probably didn't know about.

"But how will you reach the pirate ship?" Mr. Stagpoole asked. The male troll looked at him as he would at a particularly slow child, and intoned, "We ... will swim." Turning to his mate, he snarled in trollish, and the two jumped overboard, both carrying swords clutched between their respective teeth.

Behind him, Mr. Stagpoole heard chanting going on, as Keyes prepared an offensive spell. But the amazing thing was that the passenger was also casting something, for the first time in years (except for that one little moment at the ruins), although Lucas was the only one present who knew that. A thunderbolt flew from the small boat across the waves, just above the trolls' heads, and crashed into the pirate vessel...


The vision passed as he pondered his response to Lucas. "Friend Lucas, I must find my mate." That should gain enough time to come up with a better answer, anyway.
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Re: Kiyoka

Postby DarkIntruder » July 17th, 2008, 2:57 pm

After looking through the pockets of the dead (He was a mercenary after all, and a realist as well) Roger hurried to catch up with Jamie.

He arrived just in time to see him(?) put three bullets in a Gewerh who had just burst through the doors of the warehouse. Another one followed right behind, but cowered away at the sight of his buddy being ventilated. He turned and was about to begin running down the street, when Roger threw the knife he was still holding in one swift motion. It caught the man square in the hind-quarters, which caused his legs to buckle and dump him to the ground, yelling.

"Arghh, my ass, goddamnit!" the man cried, as he continued to crawl across the cobblestones.

Casting a glance at Jamie, Roger asked him(?) "You have any questions you want to ask this poor smuck?"
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Re: Kiyoka

Postby Sareth » July 17th, 2008, 3:05 pm

"Nope," I replied, flipping the cylinder open on my pistol and casually reloading. "You?"

The cylinder slipped back into place in the frame of the pistol, and I slipped it back into my garments. The second pistol was quickly dried off, and then I began the process of reloading it as well. This yahoo on the ground wouldn't be getting up fast enough to beat my ability to click the cylinder back in place, cock, and fire. Not with that knife in his ass.

Speaking of...

I leaned down and yanked the knife out of the fellow's buttcheek. The groan from the prone Gewehr was nicely satisfying.

"Nice knife," I commented, handing it back to 'my hero.'
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