Post by Matthew on Sept 15, 2014 13:46:37 GMT -5
The warlock's voice thundered in his head, "We abandoned reason when you LIT THE TORCH!"
"He's right damnit. I put us in this place, and for what? To find out about some fool who sat by his window at night?"
Valraukar felt disgusted with himself; the whole situation was FUCKED, and it all began with his plan...and, well let's be honest, planning just ain't his thing.
...still.
"Some god must have it out for us, this all just happened on accident."... "wait a moment," he thought, "that's not right; when I volunteered for duty at the Moldy Cellar, that was an accident, this is a Catastrophe!"
It all began with Blank; she lunged for the window, missed, and the guards saw, tackling the drow infiltrator...the guards standing watch over the body of the man they'd scratched earlier.
"The man I scratched. That's on my head as well."
The light's went out, and in the darkness perhaps they could have escaped...
"But you had to go and light a torch, idiot."
And it went downhill from there.
Way down.
Fast.
Before anyone could gather their wits about them, weapons were drawn where words may have sufficed. The newcomer, Dralban, fired on the guards, who responded in kind, drawing their bows and loosing arrows into the group. Bilkin narrowly dodged a shaft intended for his head. There was a cry of mingled pain and rage; Tecuani had been shot. The woodsman, snarled, charging the man. Blades flashed, and the drow's axe crashed through the guard's head, killing him instantly.
Elena fled, Bilkin tore at his hair, they'd killed a city guard, and the remaining soldier was currently trying to capture Blank. There was no talking their way out now. That time had passed.
"All because of my foolishness; i've brewed this draught of bitterness and made them all have a sip from the cup."
And of course they now had to flee. Forget the task the city official had charged them with, they needed to make it to the forest or they'd all be hanged, if the city guard didn't put them to the sword first.
In former times, he would have sprang forward, butchered the guards and ran, but this time he had just stood there, watching with the others as the night's brutal farce reached it's conclusion. He was by no means a timid man, on the contrary Valraukar was by nature a man of action, the child of a warrior tribe from a harsh land that brooked no idleness or soft nature of it's people. But he had lived the life of a fugitive for over a decade and a hunted man grows tired, longing for the companionship and trust of his fellows. He saw scenes of his youth flash before his eyes, of thralldom, a slave sold from one man to the next, of his escape, the killing of his former masters, and of his flight to the docks where he would find safe haven on the high seas for the next ten years.
Thinking of his deeds as a corsair in life again, he mused as he so rarely did.
"I have lived a brutal life, a wicked life; a life fraught with hardship & evil deeds. Sailing under the serpent flag of the Leviathan I put men, women, children, families, temples, cities to the sword. I've robbed and rampaged. And thought little of it. And we were punished for our wickedness." As his sea captain, Al-Mar slew the priest aboard the deck of the corsairs latest conquest, the cleric cried out to his gods. Al-Mar laughed cruelly...and then it came: At first it was nothing more that a patch of water that looked slightly rough, as if fish were schooling beneath the waves. The wind fell, and even the reassuring whisper of the ocean's waves ceased, so that all was silent. It drifted up almost lazily beside the ship, and an eye the size of a window glared up at us, an intelligent gaze full of malice. Razor sharp tentacles sheared through timbers, steel, bone, other arms lifted men into the air, crushing them, hurling them to a watery grave, or dragging them shrieking into the beasts gaping mouth. Men's screams filled the air. I survived only by clinging to the battered corpse of the middenmast, and drifted for 4 days and 4 nights before being washed ashore. In return for the mercy of Driast & Malornaut, I vowed to forsake me evil ways.
The piercing cry of the guard whistles brought him back into the present.
He'd messed things up, hell he'd shit the hammock royally, but "I'm going to unfuck this up, seeing as I put us here." His plan might have crashed hard, but now action was needed.
Action, he could handle.
Sheathing his short sword, he cried out, "Stay close! We MUST get outside the walls at once! Come with me if you want to live!"
OOC: Though chaotic, I thought last night was a blast! I thought everyone, especially Tecuani, Dralban, Elena, Blank, and Bilkin rocked! Next Sunday is going to be wild!
-Matt
"He's right damnit. I put us in this place, and for what? To find out about some fool who sat by his window at night?"
Valraukar felt disgusted with himself; the whole situation was FUCKED, and it all began with his plan...and, well let's be honest, planning just ain't his thing.
...still.
"Some god must have it out for us, this all just happened on accident."... "wait a moment," he thought, "that's not right; when I volunteered for duty at the Moldy Cellar, that was an accident, this is a Catastrophe!"
It all began with Blank; she lunged for the window, missed, and the guards saw, tackling the drow infiltrator...the guards standing watch over the body of the man they'd scratched earlier.
"The man I scratched. That's on my head as well."
The light's went out, and in the darkness perhaps they could have escaped...
"But you had to go and light a torch, idiot."
And it went downhill from there.
Way down.
Fast.
Before anyone could gather their wits about them, weapons were drawn where words may have sufficed. The newcomer, Dralban, fired on the guards, who responded in kind, drawing their bows and loosing arrows into the group. Bilkin narrowly dodged a shaft intended for his head. There was a cry of mingled pain and rage; Tecuani had been shot. The woodsman, snarled, charging the man. Blades flashed, and the drow's axe crashed through the guard's head, killing him instantly.
Elena fled, Bilkin tore at his hair, they'd killed a city guard, and the remaining soldier was currently trying to capture Blank. There was no talking their way out now. That time had passed.
"All because of my foolishness; i've brewed this draught of bitterness and made them all have a sip from the cup."
And of course they now had to flee. Forget the task the city official had charged them with, they needed to make it to the forest or they'd all be hanged, if the city guard didn't put them to the sword first.
In former times, he would have sprang forward, butchered the guards and ran, but this time he had just stood there, watching with the others as the night's brutal farce reached it's conclusion. He was by no means a timid man, on the contrary Valraukar was by nature a man of action, the child of a warrior tribe from a harsh land that brooked no idleness or soft nature of it's people. But he had lived the life of a fugitive for over a decade and a hunted man grows tired, longing for the companionship and trust of his fellows. He saw scenes of his youth flash before his eyes, of thralldom, a slave sold from one man to the next, of his escape, the killing of his former masters, and of his flight to the docks where he would find safe haven on the high seas for the next ten years.
Valraukar the Corsair (MEGA POINTS IF YOU RECOGNIZE THIS PIC!)
Thinking of his deeds as a corsair in life again, he mused as he so rarely did.
"I have lived a brutal life, a wicked life; a life fraught with hardship & evil deeds. Sailing under the serpent flag of the Leviathan I put men, women, children, families, temples, cities to the sword. I've robbed and rampaged. And thought little of it. And we were punished for our wickedness." As his sea captain, Al-Mar slew the priest aboard the deck of the corsairs latest conquest, the cleric cried out to his gods. Al-Mar laughed cruelly...and then it came: At first it was nothing more that a patch of water that looked slightly rough, as if fish were schooling beneath the waves. The wind fell, and even the reassuring whisper of the ocean's waves ceased, so that all was silent. It drifted up almost lazily beside the ship, and an eye the size of a window glared up at us, an intelligent gaze full of malice. Razor sharp tentacles sheared through timbers, steel, bone, other arms lifted men into the air, crushing them, hurling them to a watery grave, or dragging them shrieking into the beasts gaping mouth. Men's screams filled the air. I survived only by clinging to the battered corpse of the middenmast, and drifted for 4 days and 4 nights before being washed ashore. In return for the mercy of Driast & Malornaut, I vowed to forsake me evil ways.
The Sinking of the Leviathan
"And now we are all fugitives to a man." Even the priestess and the scholar would be strung up if caught, he was sure of it. Elena perhaps entertained a vain hope that she might seek solace in the temple of her goddess, but Valraukar was sure the guards would, at best, clap her in irons to rot in a dungeon simply for her part in tonight's affairs. She'd of course done nothing to harm anyone, not that it would matter to the guards; simply to be seen in the company of the others would be grounds for her guilt if the city's guards were like those of other places. The piercing cry of the guard whistles brought him back into the present.
He'd messed things up, hell he'd shit the hammock royally, but "I'm going to unfuck this up, seeing as I put us here." His plan might have crashed hard, but now action was needed.
Action, he could handle.
Sheathing his short sword, he cried out, "Stay close! We MUST get outside the walls at once! Come with me if you want to live!"
OOC: Though chaotic, I thought last night was a blast! I thought everyone, especially Tecuani, Dralban, Elena, Blank, and Bilkin rocked! Next Sunday is going to be wild!
-Matt
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Just kidding.