Reeko rubbed his still throbbing head as the sounds of fighting grew louder around the ship. He groaned before muttering to himself, "Does no one respect the moon any longer? We lost one assassin, captured the other, and hopefully dissuaded the drunks from murdering us all. I was sorta hoping we'd be done for the night.
He reached into his pockets searching for his dagger, smiling as his hand grasped once more around the familiar wooden hilt. He removed it and smiled watching the moonlight from a nearby window glisten of its jagged form, "We'll be sure to find you a new friend soon, but for now, you have work to do." He pushed himself up onto his feet and looked for an acceptable spot on the planks, he grinned as he found a suitable spot. A few moments later his work was finished. He couldn't help laughing at his own deviousness, as he admired his message to whoever would be so lucky to read it.
Everyone on this ship is loud and stupid. I hate you all. -Derlan
There was a sword, there, moving in this particular arc, and the move to block it was like so. Thus Jonas Thrace moved, and blades clashed, and thus he deflected yet another attack on his precarious life.
There were so many of them now, in this dim corridor, where he stood between black-masked men and the doorway. So many men with bared steel, so many attempts to steal his life away at the end of a blade.
Jonas Thrace, though, was a master. Of the men facing him only four could even come close to his skill, and two of them were already on the floor in pools of blood. Unfortunately, the other two more than made up for their fallen comrades. They fought like demons with ragged-edged steel, blades with barbs and spikes everywhere, like some furious multi-armed thing seeking to tear and rend. Jonas parried and riposted, and they did the same with a speed that dazzled the eye.
There were only two with any skill, the ones with black tattoos strangling their throats, but there were more than a dozen others whose numbers made up for their lack of ability. Jonas could not strike at them without giving the tattooed men an opening, and they used that to their advantage, trying to slip past him to either open the door or plant a knife in his back. He kept them at bay for far longer than anyone would have expected, his sword moving furiously in his hand, barring the way with a web of steel.
It couldn't last forever, no matter how skilled he was.
One man leapt from the right, diving past Jonas and taking the one-armed man's sword to the chest for his troubles. The pair who followed him were luckier. Jonas tried to cut them down but was forced into a flurry of parries by the man to his left, and the two men who had gotten past him rolled to their feet and burst through the cabin door.
They only had a moment to view the scene inside, but that moment was enough to determine their course of action. There were two figures standing before the narrow bed, a bed that's only occupant was a pile of blood-streaked blankets. One of the people was obviously a physician, wearing a white coat with a thousand little pockets. The other was a slight figure, no more than a boy, just standing up from where he had been kneeling at the bedside, adjusting a bakerboy's cap on his head and reaching for an eyepatch lying crumpled on the floor nearby.
The two men had their target described to them in great detail: they did not hesitate. As they leapt forward to strike, several things happened at once.
First, Doctor Nexaddo stepped out of the shadows beside the door and neatly hamstrung the man on the left with his hunting knife. When his foot landed the man tumbled to the floor, shrieking in agony.
Second, a red-striped snake lunged out of the shadows, moving in concert with the Doctor, sinking its fangs into the calf of the man on the right. This man, though, was built of sterner stuff than his companion, and kept on moving, bringing his long barbed knife around in a vicious arc.
The man who looked like Keil started to turn, expression one of puzzlement, and the knife plunged into his back to the hilt.
___________________________________________
In another ship corridor, slick with blood and gore that twitched disturbingly as it tried to attack the armored form in its midst, Marneus listened to something other than the sounds of his own deadly combat for the first time since the first figure in black had come crashing through the hatch.
"That isn't right," he muttered as he heard the sound of steel-on-steel echoing from elsewhere in the ship. "That isn't right at all."
He started moving, armor shifting awkwardly where it had bent and where it still glowed red-hot, slowly but surely building the momentum that would carry him through the dark halls of the ship to the place where blades still sang.
The ancient ice-elf Ko'el ran through the decks of the ship. He knew being as old as he was, turning 910 in three weeks, he should be down in the lower decks, huddled behind a line of guards and letting the young ones do the fighting. But damn if Ko'el ever let anyone fight his battles, he knew this was not his place, not now, but he could not fail to standby his allies any longer. Either he fought now or died like a cowered later.
He moved until he reached the same room that Jonas was in; he saw Jonas desperately outnumbered and moved fast. From the folds of his cloak he produced a thin stiletto. He moved behind one of the untattoed ones without everyone noticing as they were all still very much focuses on Jonas, he put his right hand under the thugs arm pit and Ko'el postioned his knife in between the spaces s in his ribcage.
" Now I got a deal of a lifetime for you, I stab you, and you die." Ko'el whispered into his ear. With out missing a beat he slid the knife into the crack and into his heart, then dropped him dead on the floor. The thugs on the left and right both saw Ko'el at that point and turned to face him. Ko'el squared off with them.
" After all these years I never forgot how much fun fighting is."
So you've all noticed I've been absent from this RP for about 3 months. This is pretty much been due to a bad misunderstanding that I blame myself for mostly.
Why hath thou forsaken me? Hath mine actions, my words of beauty and prose, offended you? Brought shame upon my household? Oh, Oh beautiful Goddesses of the Arts, grant me thy blessing...
Basically, I'm stumped. Gimme two days, I'll have something
Derlan didn't hear the words which Ticky had muttered for he was utterly entranced by a coin he had pick-pocketed from one of the women in the crowd. He studied the thing as though it was the first, and last coin he had ever seen. It wasn't the most shiny of coins, it had seen its fair share of vendors and pockets and even the occasional thief's hand, but now it lay in the hands of the entranced Derlan,
"Hmm, whats that Ticky? Hey, didya see this coin I picked? Isn't it beautiful?"
Ticky grunted and in a quick hop and an even quicker toss the coin was out of Derlan's hand and down on the road.
"I-what..." Derlan was awestruck for a moment beofre he looked at the roof on which he was standing, "Whoa... what happened here?"
Ticky groaned and placed his hand on his forehead,
"Whasa matter little friend? Here, lemme give you a lift!"
Derlan suddenly swooped in toward Ticky and grabbed him around the waist, spinning him once he threw Ticky across the gaping hole, hoping his vertically challenged friend would clear the hole in the roof.
The thug to the left held a long broadsword attack with a brutal overhead chop, hoping to get a quick kill. Ko'el side-stepped the blade and let it hit the ground and get stuck in the wooden flooring. The one on the right held a heavy axe and swung side ways just as his allies sword hit the floor. Ko'el ducked under the blade, then cut the thug's hand with his knife. He released the ax and it went flying, he watch in horror as it spun sideways and dug into his ally with the broadsword killing him. He was caught off guard as Ko'el came up with his knife and cut his throate. Ko'el wiped his bloody blade on their clothes before standing up and looking around, suddenly a very confused look spread across his face.
They were all around Jonas now, the black-masked men and their leaders, the ones with tattooed throats. He was up against the doorframe now, directing the swords of his foes to the wall and trying to keep any more from passing him by, but his arm was tiring and blood was seeping into his eye from the wound on his head. He was blinking away crimson drops, trying to focus on the shining metal dancing in front of him, and during the blink of an eye he slipped. Let a blade through. The error would have been fatal if his enemy had better aim: the pain tore through him even so, a slash that flicked across his chest and through his maimed arm, opening the old wound where he had lost his hand so long ago. Not a good thing to be reminded of, in the middle of a fight.
He riposted, an attack that skittered off metal and through black cloth, rewarding him with a flash of red on the edge of his blade. It was a small cut, but could serve as a beginning.
And then the cabin door next to Keil's opened, hitting one of the black-clad men. The unexpected figure of Jacien Criver stood there, somehow contriving to look like a young gold-skinned god arisen from his temple, even in his nightshirt and loose trousers. "The hell is--" he started to say, tired and irritated, before receiving an elbow to the face from the man he had hit with the door. He tumbled backwards, out of view, and the man followed him in with a knife.
And further down the corridor, seeking blades converged on the old ice-elf Ko'el...
And in the cabin, the man with the knife in his back flickered like a candle in the wind, and for a moment the eyes narrowed with pain were sharp, sharp green instead of pale blue...
" GAH!" Ko'el stumbled as the blades raked his body.
He had meant to sneak up silenty behind one of the brigands but his old body failed him and he stumbled alerting his target to his presence, he and the two next to him took their chance and struck him. The first two had not been so bad, only minor superficial cuts. It was the third one that truly made him howl in pain. The attacker had slice Ko'el on his side leaving a deep gash, had Ko'el been younger, 500 instead of 900 he may have been able to grit his teeth and move on, but at his frail age the attack completely robbed him of his wits and he fell to the floor. His razor blade could not save him, only his rapier wit could.
His skin felt numb, the sound of his heart beat filled his ears, he felt the magic coursing through his veins. The spell had run its course. Raven now looked down towards hands, feet and torso that was not his own. He felt about his face blindly, the contours were new to him, everything had changed. The metamorphosis was complete
"This is weir...!" he stopped short at the sound of his own voice, it too had changed to a softer, younger tone. He turned to doctor Nexaddo who simply stared back in silence. A silence that could mean any number of things but Raven didn't have much time left.
He had barely placed Keil's hat and eyepatch on himself when the door to the cabin suddenly disintegrated. Nexaddo was the fastest to react, he jumped to his feet and pounced on the first figure to emerge from the rubble. The assailant was distracted but not alone, soon another black cloaked figure managed to bypass Jonas and the ice elf's blockade and stormed into the room towards the standing figure of Keil.
Time slowed down for Raven. He hesitated in joining the fight, his priority was keeping Keil's body safe and out of sight. He clenched his fists and stood his ground in desperation. His stance prevented the assailant from seeing the real Keil but he knew that if he did not do anything, standing would be the least of his problems. A million spells ran through his head, a million different ways for this encounter to end, nothing seemed promising. He needed a distraction and once again Nexaddo came to the rescue.
This time though it was in the form of the doctor's pet snake. The red-striped serpent had slithered unnoticed towards the second tattooed figure who was menacingly making his way towards a Raven in disguise. Just as the mysterious attacker drew his sword, the serpent came into striking range...
The mage instantly grabbed the opportunity for the diversion and wrapped Keil's body in a blanket and moved him to a dark corner of the room. However, he was not fast enough. The figure in the tattered black cloak recovered from the snake bite swiftly and closed the gap between his target. Raven was just beginning to turn around when he felt the telltale feel of cold steel against his back and then the undeniably pain of piercing skin followed by the sickly feel of warm blood running down his back.
The pain was sudden and intense, it clouded the wizard's mind. He could feel the grip over his magic coming undone. Raven grabbed the wall to steady himself, his heartbeat thundered in his ears. The assailant silently drew back his sword to intensify the pain for the wizard. Raven gritted his teeth only to taste a hint of iron in his mouth, he reached in with his fingers to reveal that they were coated in blood. His lungs too were filling up with blood, he began to cough sporadically to clear his airways, splattering blood on the walls in the process. Raven gasped for air but was instantly rewarded with a searing pain.
The world was beginning to darken, he couldn't hold his balance, the ground rushed towards him. Through the fast encroaching tunnel vision he felt a momentary loss of control, his magic began to drain, the metamorphosis was beginning to fade and the illusion of Keil's appearance flcikered against the strain.
NO!
Raven screamed to himself. He summoned all the energy he had to bring his illusion under control. He could feel the heavy boots of his nemesis draw closer, eager to deal the final blow. Did the enemy know who Raven really was?. He did not know, he did not care at this point. Summoning all that he physically could, Raven placed both his palms against the wooden floorboards and began a short incantation. A small tremor ran across the floor kicking up dust and small splinters into the air. The room went quiet again.
"Don't move!" Raven tried to say to Nexaddo but all he managed was to cough up more blood.
Suddenly the floorboards in the cabin began to tremble. The wood, above where the assailants stood began to creak and groan mysteriously and then just as suddenly, they parted into nothingness.
"Blasted fool of an elf..." Ticky grumbled inwardly as Derlan chattered on about some coin or another. Ticky had more important things to worry about. The shape of a boot was outlined on the roof in what he strongly suggested was a pile of seagull crap, although nothing else could be seen.
A thought crossed Ticky's mind, however much he disliked it. He knew what needed to be done, and he was prepared to do it.
Didn't mean he had to like it.
"Now, Derlan, I need something from you." Oh, he could be such a rude gnome. "You see that seagull le-"
He was interrupted by a quick trip over the hole in the warehouse.
Derlan laughed, hysterically. For about 2 minutes he did nothing but howl with laughter, kneeling on the ground, tears streaming out of his eyes. He finally calmed down and wiped his tears away, standing up he looked across the hole at Ticky,
"Hoho, Is that what you -hehe- wanted?" Derlan asked, still chuckling.
Ko'el coughed up specks of blood and threw his attackers an angry stare.
"You idiots!" he shouted. "What do you think the master is going to do if he finds out you killed one of his best double-agents?"
The closest man hesitated, glancing at another, who sneered behind the black mask cloaking his face.
"Aye?" he said. "And why did you kill Derick and del Phonse, then?"
Ko'el's anger seemed to have convinced the other three men who had converged on him, but this fourth one...he would need careful handling. Ko'el looked at him like that was the stupidest question he had ever heard.
"Derick?! del Phonse?! They really had you suckered didn't they!" the elf sneered right back. "Those men where infamous deceptionists, a duo known as Galtrin and Ulixes! Why, Galtrin has been known to propose to a man's daughter, only to shoot him as he walks her up the aisle! If I had not found that they were on our enemies payroll while searching the ship, and if I hadn't recognized the two instantly, and then dispatched them so quickly, you would all no doubt be dead!"
The skin behind the mask paled, very slightly.
"Dammit," muttered one of the men. "Was just drinking with them last night..."
"Right," said the one who seemed to be in charge, uncertainly. "Well done, then." He helped Ko'el to his feet and muttered in his ear, "Might want to be getting away from here now. Things are about to get a little...messy." And he grinned the evilest little grin that Ko'el had ever seen.
"Very good, but..." Ko'el looked uncertainly at Jonas as he spoke, " Be careful, in the time I have known that man I learned his swordsmanship is not of human par. He told me he is a master of Quang-Si-Lu. An ancient and dark martial-art said to originate before the Old Jack's war, when the Dead Continent was still brimming with life. They say it's users become even more deadly the more men attack them! With some dark magic they are able to turn the enemies strength in numbers into a weakness. My advice, take turns, attack him one at a time, that is when he will be weakest."
With that Ko'el hobbled away, not giving them time to question his advice. Whether Jonas practiced any particular form or if Quang-Si-Lu was even a legitimate collection of syllables was beyond him; he was merely trying to rob them of some confidence. As he walked away, favoring his wounded side, he considered his options: find someone to help Jonas, find a large gun and use that to help Jonas...or leave Jonas for dead, yes, that was always an option.
In the dimness of Keil's cabin, the epicenter of the entire battle, Doctor Nexaddo was carefully lining up his knife with the back of his enemy's head when the floor surged and contorted, opening on the darkness below and dropping his target straight down. The Doctor watched, safely on the edge of the hole, his eyes inevitably shifting to the summoner of the abyss; Raven. The mage had fallen to his knees, his last reserves of energy gone. Such power, and he left none to save himself.
A funny thing, power is. Those that have it have the ability to do the most good in the world, but this same power tends to be balanced by the ease in which human nature is corrupted. The Doctor stood musing, lost in thought, ignoring the battle still raging in favor of philosophy. For one so powerful to be given a chance at protecting himself and not take it is a rarity. To do so for the sake of a dying individual is to perform the act of a saint. Perhaps it is foolish, but such a deed cannot be done unnoticed, and such a person should not be lost from this world.
The human physician was huddled in the far corner, white coat pulled up to his chin, a flimsy shield of reason and science against the insanity of the world. Nexaddo looked to him and beckoned: they had more work to do, it would seem.
The Doctor and the physician had just begun working on Raven's bloody flesh when the door once again burst open with a shriek of abused hinges. Jonas Thrace stumbled back through the portal, parrying desperately, smoke pouring in over his head from some alchemy that his enemies had lit to hide their advance from anyone else in the corridor. The black-clad men before Jonas had converged into a solid mass, shoulder to shoulder, blades out in a wall of metal, and were moving forward with the sudden and unstoppable appearance of a flash flood through a canyon. He cut one down, but another stepped in to take his place, and they overran him.
Jonas retreated, stumbling over his own feet in his haste, and his foot came down on empty air instead of solid wood. He shouted, surprised, and tumbled backwards through the hole in the floor, snatching at the lip as he fell. He hung there, suspended from one hand, sword lost to the darkness below him, and he looked up into a face edged with elaborate jet-black tattoos. Light gleamed from the rough edge of a knife as the killer leaned over the one-armed swordsman clinging below.
Jonas let go. It was an instinctive reaction, based partly on fear and partly on a bone-deep desire to avoid losing another hand. The knife slashed, bit deep of wood instead of flesh, and the black-marked man cursed as he was denied his blood. He watched as Jonas Thrace vanished into the depths of the lower deck, dropped from one level to the next without warning or intent.
The tattoo stood, glowering, and his men moved forward with death in their eyes. The guardian had fallen, and now the cabin lay open for their blades.
Doctor Nexaddo, standing above the bent and broken figure of Raven del Cid, turned and glared at the men approaching the corner, while behind him the physician cowered, his white coat the brightest thing in the room.
What happened next is hard to describe, and harder still to comprehend, even if you had seen it. It was a change in the eyes of the black-masked men advancing on the corner where the Doctor stood and the wizard kneeled. There were six of them, the rest moving behind them and searching the room for hidden persons: six concentrated on immediate death, four concentrated on seeking death.
It was in the eyes: a spark of light behind the pupils, flaring bright, changing the normal glints and glitters of the watery orb to a dull, even sheen. Six men cried out in shock as their vision faded, sight being washed out by a white glow that only they could see. They cried out, cries that they did not hear as an unseen hand shuttered their ears.
They stepped forward nonetheless, blinking away the light and shaking their heads clear of sorcery. They saw dim shapes ahead, as though seen by a man who has just stepped into darkness from light, and they struck out wildly at those shapes. A bedpost was unmercifully slain, hacked to pieces by enraged steel. Small time had been bought for those in the corner, and for those hidden elsewhere. With a little luck, it would be all the time they would need.
A man wearing a black mask stepped through the doorway, a bloody knife in his hand, and spoke to one of the black-tattooed men.
"Did you kill him?" asked the tattooed one.
"Of course," said the masked one, laughing in the quiet, sniggering manner of a madman. "And look what I found in his room!" He held out a hand, opening his fingers to reveal a corrugated sphere of metal.
"Well done," breathed the tattooed one, and the masked man nodded once in the instant before Jacien Criver's dagger took him through the heart.
"Idiot," Criver said distantly, standing in the doorway like some vengeful ghost, blood seeping from a wound in his chest. "Always make sure your enemy is dead before turning your back." He let the body fall to the floor and lunged for the tattooed man, who weaved away from the strike like smoke and responded with a deft slash of his own, an attack that caught nothing but air. The two men feinted, watching each other warily, both with a knife in hand and a will to slay.
_______________________________________
Down the corridor, Marneus Calgar turned the corner and saw it all: the bodies, the smoke, the blood and the opened doors. His footfalls were like thunder as his armor came down on the floorboards, his tread wearied: the hand on his sword was already crimson with gore, and here was yet more chaos, and more foes who must be slain. He settled his gauntlets into a tighter grip on his sword and advanced, metal rattling against itself as he moved.
Behind the knight, down corridors and through the dark mysterious halls of the ship, Grummond came down the ladder, breathing shallowly and trying not to put any weight on his side. He squinted in the dimness, examining the blood and gore that had been left behind when Marneus and Garril had fought the five in black. There was blood everywhere, congealing, flowing, sinking in, soaking into tattered black cloth and dripping through floorboards. And wallboards, and some in the ceiling, he saw. He would have hated to have been caught up in the middle of such violence.
Something was missing, though. Grummond frowned. With so much blood, someone must have died here, probably hacked to shreds. Fair enough: he expected it was the five who had so foolishly intruded on his ship.
So where were the bodies?
Something moved in the darkness, and Grummond turned just in time to see the wet approximation of a fist cannon into him, once again throwing him through the air to a rib-cracking halt. The orc slid down the wall, groaning, his pistol unreachable from his current position, and watched helplessly as the...the thing strode past him. It was an abomination, that's what it was, all the ruptured organs and shattered bones of five undying men come together to form one glistening red monstrosity. It was approximately in the shape of a human, seven feet tall at least, with muscle glaring red and bone shining white from every exposed surface. And all of it was exposed: no more were the concealing black cloaks that had been stripped from the bodies by axe and sword.
The freakish thing moved wetly down the corridor, deeper into the ship, and Captain Grummond stretched to reach his pistol.
I couldn't quite get every little detail into this post and still make it readable, so here's a summary of what you might have missed or of what wasn't explicitly stated:
1) The men in black (assassins? Fanatics? Ninjas? Can't tell you) detonated a smoke bomb to prevent anyone else in the corridor from seeing what's going on, probably in response to Criver opening his door and interfering in the battle during the previous round.
2) The man who followed Criver into his room stabbed him, found something of interest, and brought it back to his superior. Criver then stabbed him in the back, because apparently he wasn't dead yet.
3) The creature that Grummond encountered is a Frankenstein-ish thing composed of the bodies of the five in black that Marneus and Garril tore apart. The various pieces of all five came together to form one hulking red abomination that is continuing on its path through the ship.
4) No, I won't tell you why the men attacking the Doctor, Raven, and the physician suddenly lost their vision and their hearing for a moment. If you should know why it happened, you already do, and if you don't then have fun guessing.
5) Don't worry: the events of the night are approaching their conclusion.
Actually, for some of you, that might be something to worry about. Heh.
"What in the...?" Raven muttered at the spectacle that was unfolding before him. Just moments ago the six reapers were converging on them ready to snap their lifelines from existence but now, they were reduced to a screaming, bedpost hacking mess.
"I don't believe it!" the wizard muttered momentarily forgetting the pain in his spine, back and lungs. "They...they are blind and deaf!" his eyes narrowed for a second. Some other will was acting here, intentional or not this was force was giving them the opportunity to live..for a bit longer.
"We don't have much time!" he muttered to Nexaddo. "Their sight and hearing will return soon, we must escape while we still can". He paused to look at a darkened corner of the room. "I can't move very far, so this task will fall onto you. Keil's body is hidden in that corner, grab it, and wait for my signal"
He then turned to the physician that was covering behind the doctor.
"Get a hold of yourself man!" Raven hissed grabbing the man by his coat "This is not the time for self-doubt, if we all do our part now we may just, and I mean just, live to see another sunrise" he let go of the physician and pointed to Nexaddo. "Pull yourself together and help Nexaddo with his burden!"
Raven then gingerly put his weight on one knee and tried to stand up. He could feel the stitches that both medics had placed on his wounds strain under the exertion but he disregarded the warnings and got to his feet. The world was still spinning albeit with less intensity than before.
The six reapers were still caught in the influence of a foreign power. Malevolent or benevolent it had robbed them of their senses and deprived them of logic but Raven knew that this state might not last for long, the power needed to maintain such a vice could not be everlasting. He glimpsed at the shattered doorway and the light from the corridor that was streaming in. Freedom, so close yet so far!.
Nexaddo and the others might make it through in time but who's to say what other unknowns are out there?. We might be heading from one trouble into the jaws of another.
"Hurry up!" he hissed at the two men of healing who were still busy with Keil's wrapped body.
Raven searched the room for an alternative exit but he could see none. Between them and the only exit were the tattooed reapers who could regain their senses any minute, outside any number of dangers could lurk and possibly more reapers. Raven had little strength in him, he could barely walk to get to the doorway let alone cast a simple spell. He bit his lower lip in desperation and was about to throw his arms up in despair when he saw it.
The holes in the floorboards that he had created with the last ounce of magik in him was dimly illuminated by the light from the corridor. It was the fastest and probably the safest way out. Raven gingerly moved to the edge of one of the holes and peered down. The void stared back at him.
"Over here!" he turned to the others and pointed to the ground. "There is no time to loose, reinforcements may be coming towards us as we speak and these guys may regain their sight and hearing soon. This is the only way out of here that I can see. You are free to join me if you wish or take your chances though the door but me and Keil are taking this exit" he paused to grab the body of Keil from the two men. "I am in your debt, doctors!. May Ithul keep you safe!" he said finally before slinging Keil on his shoulders and looking down into the abyss once again.
"Sorry about this buddy!" Raven whispered to the unconscious Keil. "This may be a long drop and I might just use you to cushion my fall, but hey, at least we get to see how deep the rabbit-hole goes" with that Raven stepped into nothingness.
After multiple flashes came from the belly of the Cepolada, a worried look spread across Derlan's face,
"Damn, looks like the shit is really goin down..." Derlan looked across the hole on the roof at the gnome, "Whatever your plan is, I think we should do it... and fast! Looks like our crew members are experiencing some difficulties. What exactly is your plan again?
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