[Nexus] Outside XXVIII

[Slii Arhem]

Empty Field

The dragon roars a challenge. It cannot flee on one wing, and could not harm the bug even before it had swelled in size, but the dragon will not back down. Faster than a wounded beast should be able, it gives a wing assisted leap forwards, aiming to crash down on Puddin's segmented body just below the bug's head section.

The dragon's jaws lash out, sinewy neck rippling as it tries to grab hold of, and then rip off, one of Puddin's mandibles.

[Mr. Moon]

Spoiler

Show

[Field]

The stupid one suddenly seems to be moving incredibly quickly, quickly enough to be over here, putting his sword inside her leg.

Ow.

At least he has the decency to slow down afterwards.
Still, this primitive magic appeared to have a fair piece of power to it. Something to look into later.

Justice rams his sword into Feia's lower-arm, with all the immediate threat of a needle being jammed into a bear.
Not to say it doesn't hurt...
There's a growl, before she snaps the rest of the arm over, twisting the fingers sideways to try to grab Justice.
Which will work perfectly with what Kax is doing, so that Feia can place the orc's friend in the way.

Otherwise she'd have to stretch her hind leg up to grab at Kax, and that'd be silly and unbalancing.

[Field]

That's a bleeding shame really. Justice rather liked being able to move, but that just seems to be an impossibility as Feia grabs him. Because of the angle he was holding his greatsword at, Feia should find herself with a very painful piece of ebony digging straight into her palm, but the overzealous dragonborn is caught. He struggles in vain for his turn, likely unable to break free from the dragon's grip.

"Keep FIGHTING Oswald! I'll get FREE SOON!"

Field

Oh dear. This is quite the problem. Even as Tel-Zaff Kax gets in close enough to attack and swings his axe to do so, the leg he is attacking has been replaced with his long-time partner. Not to say that the pair has never traded blows, they have. But usually they were in jest (and sometimes in less-than-jest), and never with a powerfully enchanted axe.

The orc grunts, twisting his wrist as he strikes. It was too late to correct the swing, so instead he presents the flat of the blade. Unless Feia gets a mind to move her hand out of the way axe smacks against draconic fingers with what would be, to a man, crushing force. Feia might just get badly bruised. Thankfully she should absorb most of the damage, and Justice's armour should eat up the rest.

That said, Tel-Zaff Kax doesn't seem to be listening to Justice's orders to keep fighting and ignore the dragonborn's plight. It's probably not from any real doubt of the Nord's combat abilities, and more a desire to keep the savour of Skyrim alive. That is his job, after all.
Shuffling to the side, the orc raises his axe and begins to hack away at Feia's wrist. With every blow, the blade erupts in a burst of flame, searing scale and sinew. And with every blow, the axe greedily drinks at Feia's very life-force, siphoning it away, channelling it along the handle of the axe and to its wielder.

[Chaotic Bob]

[Field]

Feia's hand has definitely seen better days.
A sword jammed into the softer scales of her palm, and an axe whapping her fingers and carving a steady crevice into her wrist.
Such a thing would probably pose a rather serious concern if she allowed it to continue for more than a moment or two. As it is, sheer size is what balances the wound.

More blood than she would like is spreading over her hand now.
At least bruised fingers get better pretty quickly. A cut like this would require actual effort to fix later.

Right then. Time to trim some numbers.

A sibilant hiss slides out from between Feia's fangs, a piece of a spell, coupled with a brief twitch of the fingers in her other hand.
The magic is a simple one, simply invoking a surge of kinetic energy, into a point within her fist.
A point which Justice presently occupies.

The best comparison to this situation, would be to the X-Men member known as Gambit.
He charges objects he pleases with a similar energy, granting them a dangerous, and often explosive potential.
Feia is attempting to do the same to the Dragonborn, shortly before pulling her arm up away from Kax.

And then releasing the orc's friend back into his custody, by throwing the dragon-slayer less-than-gently.

[Halae]

[Field]

Hmm... How to escape this? Justice could-

no wait, he's not a mage.

Or he could-

Wait, Shouts are still building up power for the next use after that last time slow shout.

Maybe-

Augh, the greatsword is already dug into Feia's palm.

Unfortunately, it seems Justice can't get out of this. As he is tossed aside, Kax will very likely find himself dealing with a meaty nord chunks and pieces of dragon bone.

[Mr. Moon]

[Field]

And so the Dragonborn falls.

Tel-Zaff Kax stands mid-strike as Feia hurls his thane at him. The orc braces himself for the blow, closing his eyes and getting ready to roll backwards with Justice to cushion the damage for the both of them.

The blow comes, and with it comes an unexpected mix of warm and wet liquid that reeks of iron and a thousand splinters of bone. The impact sends the orc backwards, and he hits the ground with a pained cry. What unprotected skin he has - mostly his face - is lacerated from shards of razor-sharp dragon-bone. Blood runs from the wounds, but it's impossible to tell where Tel-Zaff Kax's blood begins and Justice's ends. Scraps of skin clings to his armour, sliding from his arm as he lifts it to wipe blood from his eyes. Sucking in sharp breaths, he opens them and stares at his shaking hand.
"Justice?" His voice is gruff and small. The orc swallows, tasting blood, and tries again. "Justice?!"
No answer.
He's not there.

No.
It was impossible.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Not like this.

Tel-Zaff Kax sits up, and as he does so a bright star of pain flares in the left side of his torso. The impact had broken a rib. Maybe two or three. It was hard to breath.
No.
No!

"Akatosh damn you, b*tch." The orc grunts, picking up his axe and slowly pushing himself to his feet. "Akatosh damn you. Tel-Zaff Kax is on his feet now. He staggers, winces, stays standing. "Skyrim is lost now." Blood falls from his lips as he speaks, scraps of gore fall to the ground with squelching splashes. "You proud, b*tch? You happy?" He takes a step forward, gripping his axe in both hands. His shield lays, splintered and broken, on the ground. Only scraps of leather around his left wrist show mark its previous spot. "What about hungry? You hungry, you ugly overgrown swamp-lizard?" As he speaks he stands straighter, as if the pain were no longer bothering him.

Suddenly his axe is in the air and he is charging forward. "Well dinner's ready so come get some!"
It doesn't matter what part of Feia Tel-Zaff Kax is attacking. His swings are random and rhythmless, but full of fury and a strength previously not shown by the orc. Even Feia's thick scales will provide little protection against Tel-Zaff Kax as he rages against the dying of the light.

[Chaotic Bob]

[Field]

Well that was satisfyi- ow!
Feia really needs to stop using that same arm to try to deflect Kax!
He's turning bits of it into ragged little flaps of flesh and scale, his rage doing enough damage to finally get the dragon to dip her eyes in a wince.

At this rate, the limb will become completely unusable, very quickly, if it isn't already.
Muscles are not so hard to damage, once past the flesh and scale.

Time to put pride aside.

Flexing her other three legs, and her wings, Feia hurls herself upwards into the air, away from the arm-destroying axe.
Assuming the orc doesn't try to tag-a-long for the ride, her wounded arm is pulled close to her body, for basic comfort, while she considers what to do.

Not quite up to another release of her breath, and focusing on a more complicated spell seems needless at the moment.
But maybe, she could imply some basic shock-effect to calm the orc down...


Roars are loud things.
A lion can roar loud enough to be heard for miles, far more than enough necessary to be physically painful at extremely close range. And they're merely declaring territory.

A dragon, particularly this one that Feia appears to be, is many times larger than a lion, with a lung and noise capacity far out-stripping the African feline.
She isn't merely declaring territory, either, she is funneling in the pain of her arm and the rage of indecisiveness.

Turning her head down towards Kax, she lets loose, hoping to drown out his own rage with something more noticeable.

[bladescape]

Skirmish

Molodai takes the battlements in leaps and bounds, smashing past one soldier and jumping off the next. It's all a blur of blood and cold air - one second, she's extracting her talons from the soft flesh of an elf's throat, the next, there's a dozen men standing in her way, just as bloodthirsty as herself. Well, perhaps not quite.

All the while, her wound simply seals up, scabbed over almost instantly and dried by the cold winter wind. So she fights on in a flurry of claws and teeth, no longer noticing the wound.

The human chasing her manouvers easily through the slew of bodies, his blade taking care of the Fae's allies. He is also quick, and although he isn't as fast as Molodai's darting speed, he is faster than most of the other soldiers.

Meanwhile she quickly approaches the defensive lines where her own side hold, without any of the opposition behind them. Although whether that matters to her or not is debateable.

[happyturtle]

Leaving AMEN - The Skies

A duck the size of an elephant is flying away from the valcanic base of ne'er do wells. It'd make someone a fine mount.

"QUACK!"

[ThirdEmperor]

[Just Outside the Rusty Wheel]

There's only one solution to the taxing issue of the meddling hot air rushing out of the tavern! Warsh attempts to shut the shutters behind him and secure them in place with piece of string ripped out of one of cloth garments! That, a few droplets of water, and a portion bubble gum might do the trick for awhile! And awhile is all the time that Mister Warsh requires.

Warsh attempts to sprint from cover to cover, using the shadows of the night and the bountiful walls the villages provides to his advantage, keeping an eye out for lone soldiers that might serve his purposes well enough. He's slowly and stealthily picking his way toward Riv's mountain fortress, utilizing landmarks which match the map of the area gifted to MURDER by Phil to select the most opportune path by which to forge onward!

The trek between Hamlet and the mountain isn't a short one, nor easy to navigate. The forest stands in the way, a tangle of trees, vines, undergrowth and brambles that's nearly impossible to navigate even in full daylight, and worse yet populated by innumerable beasts, twisted and made yet more vicious by the wild magic that's infected the land here.

But luckily for him, there's a trail, a wide swathe of land where the trees and shrubbery have been cut away, the ground burnt so that the forest could not reclaim it. Tire tracks run across the muddy earth, leading all the way to the base of the mountain, and the enormous steel door set into the cliff-face. Three feet thick, ten feet high, capable of stopping a barrage of artillery rounds... Yeah, getting through the front door might be a trial in and off itself.

Unless Phil's map also shows the location of the missile bays, in which case Warsh might find it easier to bypass the door entirely.

Staring down at the flailing thing Rick barely holds back a laugh at the ridiculous antics of the freak. Upon seeing it regain it's footing he frowns, turns around to tap on someone's shoulder, and shoves the shotgun into their hands while saying "Hold this for me will yah?" and quickly departing further into the crowd so that he may blend in and go unnoticed.

It takes the poor fellow a second to realize what just happened, simply staring dumbly at the gun that's just been foisted upon him for a moment before comprehension dawns. Comprehension is quickly replaced by panic as the hapless villager spots the last part of the equation, the armored guard angrily stumbling towards him, dropping the shotgun, throwing up his arms and futilely trying to gabble out an explanation.

As Rick flees, he'll hear panicked shouting from the congregation behind him, shouting which fast leads to yet more commotions as three fast gunshots sound, punctuated by a scream of pain. Looks like his prank caused more trouble than expected.

Riv's Hamlet

Javert simply criss-crosses his blades in front of him to allow the man to quarter himself on extremely sharp blades, slicing downwards as this occurs to aid the process. If this is successful, Javert will probably be covered in gore.

He'll let the pistolier escape, allowing the man to scream in agony to his heart's content.*

Hmph. Sloppy. Now look at yourself. Covered in gore like some Khornate.

You've never complained before.

It is the principle of the matter.

Javert smirks beneath the now red and white Comedy mask and looks over the area for more targets and hiding places. Hopefully the panic would cause people to come out.

Indeed, the last villager is well and truly bisected, falling to the ground in any number of bloody parts. That's two down, two near dead, both survivors fleeing. Speaking of survivors, there's a rather conspicuous smear of blood leading from where the teleported fell over to the most intact of the ruins, which also happens to be the best hiding place available.

Which isn't to say it's the only hiding place about. Heck no. There's so much wreckage strewn about, so many burnt of shells of dead homes that Javert has his choice of ambush spots. A few of the buildings even have still-standing second floors, so he can probably find a sniper's nest or high ground if he wants.

Meanwhile, the pistoleer is nearly out of sight, running back towards the center of town. If there's anyone left who's brave enough to wander into the ruins, his story should bring them out.

[Murkus]

Well...that's new.

Been a while since-

Okay, no, even in the wastelands he lived in, Marcus never had to deal with any wild beasties with super-heated DEATH BEAMS!

Still, this creature's attacks all seem to be avoidable just be staying close to the damn thing, which is exactly what Marcus is doing. So in order to make sure he doesn't get fried to a crisp, he quickly u-turns and dashes back between its legs, taking a wild swing as he passes.

He's kind of primarily concerned about not-dying at the moment, so he doesn't line up the swing particularly well.

In his wake, mushrooms and scrubs wither and die, curled into burnt nubs by the creature's sun-like energy. Being grazed by the stuff would only hurt - the wound would be superficial. Several seconds of sustained heat, however, and Marcus would be looking at second or third degree burns. His skin would sizzle.

So perhaps running between it's legs is the wise choice. The Fessenoch is cut again, more ichor seeping forth. The angry fungus whirls, arms shattering branches like plywood, and steps toward Marcus. But it turned too fast, and it's leg is too unstable. The creature topples.

Well, for now all he has to worry about is getting crushed to death.

Even if he doesn't, he might still have the beast's grasping hands to deel with. They clutch the cold earth, digging deep rivets in the ground, and then reach for him.

[At the Coast with Percival]

Eericka quickly closes her eyes as the flurry of sand is kicked up about her. Soon after the debris rest upon the ground once more, Eericka eyes open. She is immediately stricken by the beauty of the scene. She beholds the lapping waves in silent fascination, captivated by its mystic qualities and soothing grace. As the waves break against the shore, a calm overtakes her and stills her normally meticulous and ceaseless threat-analysis of her surroundings.

Eericka actually feels safe in Percy's arms.
That's weird.
And it might just be the start of something...
Perhaps.

Except for the fact that Eericka is no older than sixteen...

"It's beautiful, Percival."

Indeed it is. [/SPOILER]

Percival doesn't seem to think of Eericka that way. He likes the girl, but not in that fashion. If there is a something, it won't be started by Percy.

"Truly. Here..." Percival steps toward the ocean and attempts to set Eericka down in the surf, where the water can bathe her feet. Since Nexus seasons only seem to follow Earth ones when players find it pleasing, the tiny, burbling waves might be warm or cold. Percival has his boots on, so it doesn't matter to him.

The human chasing her manouvers easily through the slew of bodies, his blade taking care of the Fae's allies. He is also quick, and although he isn't as fast as Molodai's darting speed, he is faster than most of the other soldiers.

Meanwhile she quickly approaches the defensive lines where her own side hold, without any of the opposition behind them. Although whether that matters to her or not is debateable.

The only thing that saves the friendly soldiers is their smell. They smell of the castle. And the castle folk had seemed kind. So, thereby, the soldiers of Etherain are spared from her teeth and talons.

The swordsman, however, might not be so lucky. Molodai attempts an ambush - namely, she climbs over the wall, hanging onto the outer ramparts by the tips of her claws. By the time the swordsman catches up, he'll have likely lost sight of her.

When he reaches that spot on the wall, however, she leaps upward, attempting to tackle him over the opposite side and down into the courtyard. Well, the tackle wasn't really intentional. She'd merely been leaping for his throat.

[Gnrlshrimp]

[Fessenoch Battle!]

Good thing Marcus still has some momentum. If he'd come to a complete stop after slashing at its legs again, he may well have been crushed. He figured standing right underneath it for any length of time would be a bad idea though.

So as the thing topples, he dives out of the way, juuust about managing to keep himself from getting squished. He hits the ground pretty hard though, having had very little time to think. So Marcus takes a moment or two to get up, slightly winded from having thrown himself out of the way so awkwardly.

...and that means he's unable to get out of the way in time when the beastie grabs him with its hand. Well, this is rather...unfortunate. Only one thing he can do for the moment, slash wildly with his weapon and try and stop it before it gets a good hold on him. If that's enough to weaken its grip, then he'll be trying to jump clear immediately. Marcus has no desire to be squished to death either.

[Mr. Moon]

Spoiler

Show

[Field]

Well that was satisfyi- ow!
Feia really needs to stop using that same arm to try to deflect Kax!
He's turning bits of it into ragged little flaps of flesh and scale, his rage doing enough damage to finally get the dragon to dip her eyes in a wince.

At this rate, the limb will become completely unusable, very quickly, if it isn't already.
Muscles are not so hard to damage, once past the flesh and scale.

Time to put pride aside.

Flexing her other three legs, and her wings, Feia hurls herself upwards into the air, away from the arm-destroying axe.
Assuming the orc doesn't try to tag-a-long for the ride, her wounded arm is pulled close to her body, for basic comfort, while she considers what to do.

Not quite up to another release of her breath, and focusing on a more complicated spell seems needless at the moment.
But maybe, she could imply some basic shock-effect to calm the orc down...


Roars are loud things.
A lion can roar loud enough to be heard for miles, far more than enough necessary to be physically painful at extremely close range. And they're merely declaring territory.

A dragon, particularly this one that Feia appears to be, is many times larger than a lion, with a lung and noise capacity far out-stripping the African feline.
She isn't merely declaring territory, either, she is funneling in the pain of her arm and the rage of indecisiveness.

Turning her head down towards Kax, she lets loose, hoping to drown out his own rage with something more noticeable.

With every blow Tel-Zaff Kax strikes against Feia, his axe siphons her life-force. It flows down the length of the axe and enters the orcs bloodstream through his hand via osmosis. Even as he fights, his wounds seal shut. Blood no longer pours from his mouth as he screams his wordless fury.

Unfortunately for Feia, her orcish attacker grabbed onto her arm as she started flying away. As she lifts into the air, Tel-Zaff Kax grabs on to an exposed flap of muscle, armoured fingers digging in as he swings up his leg and straddles the bloody mess that remains of Feia's arm. All the while he never stops hacking away, crawling up to reach healthier hide as he goes.

So absorbed is the orc that he doesn't notice what Feia is doing. But then the sound hits him. Surrounds him. Strikes him like a hammer. Drowns out his own frenzied cry. For several moments the cacophonous howl is all he hears. Then the sound stops, and a high-pitched ringing replaces it as blood leaks out of his pointed green-grey ears. And then even that stops as his eardrums burst in final protest. Tel-Zaff Kax doesn't cry out in pain, doesn't feel the agony.

As Feia screams, Tel-Zaff Kax reaches into his satchel and pulls out a vial. it's small, about the size of the orc's thumb, and contains a dull green liquid. It's an easy matter to flick the lid off and only slightly harder to hurl it into Feia's gaping maw.

Imp Stool is a mushroom that grows in caves around Skyrim. When ground and mixed with the slightly harder to find Canis Root and dissolved in water, it creates a poison that paralysis any creature to whom it is introduced, either through ingestion or blood contact. A skilled alchemist can create an extremely concentrated version that takes effect for up to fifteen seconds.

[Murkus]

[Fessenoch Battle!]

Good thing Marcus still has some momentum. If he'd come to a complete stop after slashing at its legs again, he may well have been crushed. He figured standing right underneath it for any length of time would be a bad idea though.

So as the thing topples, he dives out of the way, juuust about managing to keep himself from getting squished. He hits the ground pretty hard though, having had very little time to think. So Marcus takes a moment or two to get up, slightly winded from having thrown himself out of the way so awkwardly.

...and that means he's unable to get out of the way in time when the beastie grabs him with its hand. Well, this is rather...unfortunate. Only one thing he can do for the moment, slash wildly with his weapon and try and stop it before it gets a good hold on him. If that's enough to weaken its grip, then he'll be trying to jump clear immediately. Marcus has no desire to be squished to death either.

The creature's grip is not weakened, although he may succeed in lopping off one of it's fingers. Before it can try to crush him, however, an arrow collides with it's arm. Vines begin to grow from it, penetrating the monster's flesh and tearing it apart. Before long, it's arm is severed at the elbow, and the limb simply falls limp.

The great Fessenoch gets to it's knees, looking at it's stump with what might be pain and confusion. Hard to tell, without a real face. Still not seeing Adir, the beast's face begins to glow once again, aimed at poor Marcus.

[Gnrlshrimp]

[Fessenoch Battle!]

Well...that works. Marcus makes a mental note to point out to Adir that he generally doesn't play distraction when fighting something capable of crushing him in mere seconds.

Usually he and the tribe would stay at a distance, surround the beast, and keep it confused, shouting in different directions, shooting it from one side then the other, hurting it on all sides so it didn't know where to attack. A little time consuming, yes, and a it usually required a fair few more arrows than trying to kill it directly. But it normally ensured that everyone was safe.

Still, he hasn't got much of a choice here now. With some difficulty he wriggles free from the lopped off arm and stands up, turning to face the fearsome beast once more.

Oh great, it's preparing to blast him again. Marvellous. Well, the thing's not back on its feet yet, so it's still pretty much immobile, but Marcus isn't sure he can get behind it quickly enough, and getting blasted by the heat beam of doom at close range would probably be...painful. So, he turns and legs it, seeking the nearest piece of cover he can find.

[Chaotic Bob]

[Field]

Somewhere after this roaring business is done, Feia considers glaring at Kax.
He's being a pest, with this stubborn sticking-around-ness and slashing up her arm.

But instead, she has a more perturbed look to her eye, squinching them shut a bit.
And then her body twitches, an event that will require the orc to retain quite a good grip for, even moreso for the following:

Massive dragon coughing fit.

The vial was thrown in while she was roaring, at which time her esophagus was closed to allow air to flow through her trachea.
Which, unfortunately, means that's where the vial ended up flying.
Muscles within didn't like that, resulting in a coughing fit, which sounds a bit like boulders being ground against a cliff face and exploding grenades at the same time.

Very unpleasant, loud noise.
It's also accompanied by more wracking of Feia's body, something that is very likely to simply fling Kax off into the distance.

She also suspects her neck is going a bit numb.

[Murkus]

Fessenoch Battle!

There's a tree not three feet away, but it's just barely large enough to accomodate Marcus's width. He'll be able to feel the heat brush past him, perhaps turning his shoulders a painful lobstery red. The other side of the tree is promptly blackened, practically turned to charcoal.

The Fessenoch makes its way to its knees, creating deep impressions in the earth. Two more arrows suddenly hit the side of its face, and it turns, tearing angrily at the vines that have suddenly begin sprouting from its flesh. The fungal terror shoots a beam into the forest, and Marcus will probably hear Adir yelp with pain. The wounded fey flits amidst the trees, a fair distance away.

[Gnrlshrimp]

[Fessenoch Battle!]

Oh hell no! We can't be having that!

If Adir dies, that probably counts as, like, an instant fail or something. Well, that and Adir is probably the sort of fellow Marcus could come to like, so he isn't particularly keen on letting him get hurt for that reason too.

And what luck, it may have been a wee bit painful for him, but Adir appears to have given Marcus an opening.

So the wastelander leaps out from behind his cover and charges straight at the beastie, readying his weapon for a massive overhead swing, leaping up as he approaches, seeking to bring the serrated teeth of his bone-sword cleaving down straight through the middle of the beastie's face.

And as he swings, the bone glows slightly, the wild magic buried within it sparking, as occasionally happens. As with all things from Marcus's home, the magic is unpredictable, unreliable, but when it does manifest, it usually has a rather positive effect. In this case the edge of the weapon becomes sharper still, the serrated teeth seeming to suddenly become even pointier, even better at piercing through flesh.

After the swing, regardless of results, the effect fades. Marcus is sort of going for broke, hoping this will be the killing blow. If not, he's going to be rather vulnerable.

[Murkus]

Fessenoch Battle!

Provided Marcus can manage a 10-foot jump into the air, he'll feel his blade bite flesh, and it'll cut neatly down the middle of the Fessenoch's face. Despite the deep, savage cut, very little blood spills forth.

With an aching sigh, the Fessenoch lets go. It crashes to the ground for the last time.

"Holy crap!"

Adir comes jogging up to the clearing in the space of a moment, huffing after his little jaunt through the woods.

"You got it!"

[Gnrlshrimp]

[Fessenoch Battle]

It's a pretty big jump, yes...

But Marcus is quite a good jumper, and the blade itself is fairly long.

Anyway, pretty much the limit of what he can manage, and he does sort of land awkwardly afterwards, grunting and picking himself up as Adir jogs in.

"Uh...yes...it's dead..." Marcus pants, leaning on his bone-sword. His right foot hurts from that awkward landing, his shoulders both feel like they're on fire, and he may have put a little too much into that swing at the end and pulled something in one of his arms, but at least the damn thing's dead.

"Next time...you play distraction, I shoot it from cover, yes?" He chuckles at Adir, flipping his bear hood back to wipe the sweat off his brow. His bandages for that head wound probably need changing again. Sweaty bandages aren't ideal.

[Murkus]

Fessenoch Battle!

And Adir does this sort of thing for fun.

He laughs at the quip, flashing Marcus a wry smile. "Hey, all part of the test. Besides, I'm not exactly untouchable." Adir twists sideways, showing Marcus the rather toasty-looking burns down his back. Ow. "If you want a souvenir, grab it now. We should leave before the spores start spreading."

[Gnrlshrimp]

[Fessenoch...defeated!]

Marcus isn't sure whether Adir is crazy, stupid, brave, or some mixture of the three. A good hunt could be fun, yes, but generally preferred his hunts without gargantuan fungus creatures firing super-heated death beams all over the place. Still, it had been a good fight.

And such a test certainly created a good first impression for Watchtower, in Marcus's eyes. They might be a little too eager to charge head-first into danger if this was anything to go by, but they're clearly capable of dealing with some pretty fierce beasties.

"A good test, yes. I hope you're not too burnt. No souvenir is fine, hard to beat but not very nice trophy to look at." Not something Marcus can easily use for clothing either. "Let's go then."

((Aaaand that's prolly a good place to halt it for now, since I'm gonna be absent until wednesday))

[Murkus]

Fessenoch - Defeated...

"Well, if you aren't gonna take anything, then I bet my wife would love somma these..." Adir draws a scary-looking bowie knife and hacks off the long pseudopod-esque structures protruding from the corpse's head. He bundles them up under one arm and waves his arm toward the forest courteously. "Shall we?"

And presumably they shall, trekking back through the forest on their way to Watch.

((Right-o. Talk to you then. ))

[The Alexandrian]

[At the Front Gates of Riv's Nearly Impregnable Fortress]

I doubt Phil's map indicates where Riv's missile launching platforms are located (unless they are very apparent and unconcealed). I may be incorrect in asserting that, but, either way, Warsh has no intention of accessing those areas. Yet.

Instead, Warsh flings his rucksack into the underbrush upon noticing that there is only one real approach to Riv's fortress. He then sprints up the pathway with stupendous rapidity, figuring that it is likely well-monitored. He must put on a convincing show for Riv and his loyal drones.

When Warsh reaches the gates of Riv's base, he attempts to pound on the door with his fists. He is visibly winded. He also has put on a farce of being quite distressed to supplement the perceived veracity of his shrewd act.

He's going to impersonate a villager in order to lure more soldiers out of the stronghold and into the town!

-------
[At the Coast with Percival]

Eericka attributes fatherly qualities to Percy right now primarily due to the trust being developed between the two and the safety she has begun to feel while associating with him. At the same time, she fears Percy to a point, though that fear has diminished as a result of this little foray to the coast.

The waters of the ocean are likely warm so that they are more fitting for the occasion. Eericka giggles as she feels the sand under her feet. That is a new experience, certainly. The motions of the waves set her on edge initially, but she soon adjusts to them. She is rather happy and excited by now, gazing off over the horizon, pondering how great the distance is between where the water tapers off and the next land mass begins.

"You're a far better master than I ever hoped to get."

That's high praise considering Eericka's overall hatred of slavers and slave owners.

[Earl of Purple]

Hermitage of Dalachrech- Elezibethele

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No, he hadn't. He was quite low-ranking, in fact, though there wasn't really much of a heirarchy on his home planet. "Not if we're subtle, and keep hidden. Humans are all too willing to blame those different to themselves; we can take advantage of that, provoke wars between neighbouring nations and use humans to kill humans, and direct locust swarms to human fields and increase mosquito numbers." Dalachrech prefers economic wars, striking at the enemy's civilians and institutions, and His creatures are especially adept at it.

Hermitage of Dalachrech- Azurelle

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"Happy, hmm? And how will you make me happy? Because I feel happiest with somebody lying helpless before me and a whip in my hand." Azurelle sounds genuinely curious; she truly enjoys inflicting pain and suffering.

[The Alexandrian]

[Hermitage of Dalachrech - Azurelle]

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It is only now that Toy realizes that she isn't asleep. Oddly enough, her demeanor doesn't change. Azurelle is reacting to her speech splendidly. Why quit now?

"I've felt your tastes. You crave suffering as I do. Our marks, however, aren't the same. They are as different as day and night."

"But accords can be struck, I am sure."

"I have learned that retribution is sweeter the more the one being affected possesses. There's more satisfaction in slaying the family of one who holds them near and dear than there is in doing the same for a being who would have sold his or her family to you for twelve copper pieces. You gain more from conning a rich man than you do a poor one. You can't take something from someone who doesn't have it."

"I have nothing. I have no free will. I have no reason to live. I have no hope. I acknowledge that now. There's nothing more you can take from me save my life. I am a shell. Degraded far below lowliest of thralls."

"There are others in this world who have everything. They know not pain. To them, agony is being passed up for a promotion that went to someone more qualified."

"I cannot be alone in my state. I want them to feel as I feel. For every ounce of blood extracted from my body, I was a gallon of their's."

"We could track down these people easily enough. We could build an empire on their hunched backs. You have the martial prowess. I have the manipulative powers. I could be your lover, the mistress of the dread empress. You could rule over thousands of people, subjugating every one of them, bending them to your will, toying with them like pawns on a chessboard or scouts in Stratego."

Toy is laying it on thick with the sweet overtones in her voice and the cunning smirk on her face. She seems more than enthusiastic about the potential of it all.

I think she's lost it entirely. She is corrupted. I am sure of that much, at least.

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[Hermitage of Dalachrech - Elezibethele]

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What interest would Dalachrech have in eradicating the human race? It has served him well, has it not?

"And of their guardians? The mythical things that they write of in their lore, their guardians and gods, if you will, would know. Is Dalachrech prepared to beat back the forces they send to his realm to slay his creatures and destroy him entirely?"

For in the Nexus, there are always lunatics who would try such things. This is reflected in the number of Exalted characters running amok all around GLoG and Inside.

[Earl of Purple]

Hermitage of Dalachrech- Elezibethele

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"When Terrowin's homeworld was destroyed, Dalachrech lost all His mortal worshippers. He was weak, vulnerable. In the Abyss, everybody is against you. Yet, He did not fall. The Spider Queen sent in Her minions to end His threat to Her portfolio; they died when Dalachrech moved a sea of flesh-eating beetles into their camp. One of His underlings tried to overthrow Him, and was chained to a rock for the rest of the eternity; meanwhile, their flesh is eaten every day by the sea of flesh-eating beetles. That was when He was weak; now He's strong. Who can stand up against Him, in His realm now that He's strong? And He has no reason to leave His stronghold- His enemies have to come to Him, through land inhabited by His followers." Humanity did serve Dalachrech well, looking after honeybees, spreading cockroaches across the world and providing plentiful food for locusts. Now, though? There's widespread use of indiscrimate pesticide, and humanity is trying to control His creatures.

Hermitage of Dalachrech- Azurelle

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"An interesting proposal. But as you say, you have no free will. What is to say that I can reward you by keeping you and your sisters alive? It is all I can take, yes, but all I need is a willing cleric and a diamond and I can restore your life, and take it again and again. And there's plenty of clerics willing to do what I say, even if I lack the power to order them." Azurelle is certainly interested in the plan; it has its merits, reducing the powerful to the order of puppets. She's mainly wondering if Dalachrech would permit them to enact the plan on Elezibethele, however.

[The Alexandrian]

[Hermitage of Dalachrech - Azurelle]

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"Nay. I do not desire that reward for serving you. Eternal life doesn't tempt me. Given the choice between being tormented in life or condemned in death, I'd seek out a third option. I don't try to pull the wool over my own eyes. No paradise awaits me when I die. I have the pleasure of picking from two hells. You don't."

Which likely implies that Azurelle has already been assigned to a ring of the inferno in Toy's mind.

"I want to hurt people as they have terrorized me. I want to see the powerful fall and try to endure what I have endured. I want to offer them no quarter. Suicide won't even be available to them."

"All that I want from you is chaos and destruction. I want a share of the bloodshed. I want to help you expand your own power. Will you permit me that much?"

There's rage pent up behind Toy's subservient, dulcet tone. A beacon of determination upheld by heartfelt emotion is set behind her eyes. She means every word of what she says.

They will pay for what they have done. Each and every one of them.

Each and every one.

[Hermitage of Dalachrech - Elezibethele]

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"Then what you say must be."

Mine replies, having run out of questions for Elezibethele by now. He nods respectfully to her. One question remains floating aimlessly in his mind. Were a god dead, would its worshipers ever realize that it is dead?

[Shadowcaller]

[Limo]

"Mm, it is." She turns her head to kiss Irena's shoulder, then returns it to resting on her shoulder. One would think she could fall asleep, if she wasn't incapable of doing so at night.

[Limo]

Irena isn't really tired yet, she's used to being up all night (it's rather hard to tell anyway with the darkness of Westside. She enjoys just sitting holding hands with Nadia for now however.

At least until they return to Riverside, there are things at work there.

[Earl of Purple]

Hermitage of Dalachrech- Elezibethele

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Not always; Dalachrech's faith was as strong as it was on Terrowin's homeworld because the theocratic government worshipping the God of Justice hadn't noticed when the God of Justice was killed and replaced by the God of Tyranny, because the Tyrant God was subtle about the changes till justice had been completely replaced by tyranny.

"Indeed it must. Humanity has no idea it's doomed, and I have no intention of letting them find out until it's too late for them to do anything about it." Elezibethele smiles.

Hermitage of Dalachrech- Azurelle

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"You misunderstand. I am not offering eternal life, I'm saying I can kill you as slowly and painfully as I like and then bring you back to life. So I can torture you to death as often as I wish." Azurelle doesn't mention that Toy does have the option to opt out of being brought back.

[The Alexandrian]

[Hermitage of Dalachrech - Azurelle]

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Where Toy would end up after being killed is a factor to consider as well. If her spirit were floating aimlessly in Hades, it'd be easy enough to resurrect her. If she were sentenced to, say, the seventh ring of hell in Dante's Inferno, fishing her soul out of that vile place would be a much more taxing trial.

"And what of it?"

Toy questions, noting the threat but not really seeing much of a point to it.

"Does your power increase as a result of my demise? I would guess not. In fact, I'd say that your power would decrease, as you'd either be out one person to control or out a diamond."

"It wouldn't be advantageous enough to justify the expense. There are cheaper ways to surfeit your sick little mind with what it fancies."

Toy is calmly attempting to weasel her way out of the condition Azurelle speaks of. She isn't partial to it. She hates the very idea. Being threatened doesn't help her dark mood any. She'd be trying to strangle Azurelle by now if she thought that she had even a slim chance at succeeding.

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[Hermitage of Dalachrech - Elezibethele]

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So Elezibethele wants to kill Terrowin while Azurelle wants to dominate Elezibethele. Hmm. I'm sensing a lack of unit cohesion here. The Sith promotion system is nearly identical to the desires being expressed here.

"Good luck with that."

Mine replies, not looking forward to fighting that war at all. In truth, he's hoping that Elezibethele would be distracted by those other matters so that he could slip away from her unnoticed! While Elezibethele isn't a super terrible master, Mine is sure that she has it out for him anyway.