Group 22
Page 185 of 203

Author:  Drainial [ Mon Jul 30, 2012 6:28 pm ]
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Passing by the beast pens confirmed that there had been a lapse of security, one would have thought that Black, as a beastmaster himself, would have been on top of the situation and harnessed the creatures here to the Druchii cause but apparently not. It was a shame, the Skaven were not short on monsters and it would have been good to reply in kind. He had heard from the others that Black had a Manticore at his disposal or at least he had done, such a feline hunter would have been perfect for hunting down the Skaven and their rat ogres. It was not worth worrying about what he could not change however, they would simply have to be on the lookout for any marauding nasties and hope that the Nauglir found rat meat tastier than elf.

Despite the devastation Elysian felt quite a bit better in these streets, the fires almost made him sad but in the end it might even be good for the old place, urban regeneration came only through necessity in Naggaroth. All that though assumed the city would live on at all.

"Keep a sharp eye on all directions," Elysian said, his comments were directed particularly at the new comers since the others were used to this kind of warfare having lived in Vikrah for many years
"This is not the ocean, you don't get half a day's notice before a battle here." With that he headed towards the burned out tower, it was the nearest thing of any importance at all and in lieu of further direction or any better ideas it seemed a reasonable place to start.

Elysian will attempt to take some kind of charge of the corsairs since he views than as half incompetent children in an urban environment, albeit quite well armed incompetent children. If no one has a better idea then he wants to head towards the tower.

Author:  Dauricha [ Tue Jul 31, 2012 6:03 am ]
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Phalx eyed the ruined pens nervously. He saw the great footprints of the Nauglir down the street. Away from the stables, which was a bit odd, what were the great lizards hunting.They would be slowed slightly,the freezing weather would do nothing for their cold blood, but the horrors were still deadly. His hands stayed firmly on Deathspitter, as they made their way through the twisting winding streets.

Then they were there. The deserted street with a whistling wind. The tower still stood, and Phalx could just catch the smell of blood, piss, and rotgut beer. The Rats Nest.

Phalx will go ahead, crossbow ready, and head down into the Rats Nest aproper.

Author:  Raneth [ Tue Jul 31, 2012 4:54 pm ]
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Vryala walked up front, just a few steps behind Phalx, relieved to note the Shade showing a like view on confronting Lord Black despite his headstrong nature. They stealthily made their way through the slums, passing abandoned property, a ****load of corpses and a distinct lack of law enforcement on the way. Black's Nauglir had been running rampant - she couldn't tell whether the beasts had escaped by themselves or had been set loose by some nefarious individual - but soon enough the Rat's Nest entrance came into view, and V knew they'd have much bigger problems at hand than a few foraging Cold Ones.

Again Phalx took point, Deathspitter drawn; V followed in his wake wordlessly, Elysian directing the Corsairs closely behind her. All manner of brigands, thieves and ne'er-do-wells gathered in this place; so blatant was their claim on this part of town that Vryala couldn't help but wonder how high up corruption must have wormed its way among City officials. She decided to stay quiet, and let the sneaks to the decision-making. The Nest had eyes everywhere, and she assumed they knew of the group's approach already - one wrong move could see them ambushed, left for dead where none would bother to look for them.

She just hoped the rogues occupying this Khaine-forsaken place would grant them passage through their turf. For the sake of Vikarh.

Will walk along with Phalx as innocuously as can be managed with a drawn blade.

Author:  Kinslayer [ Tue Jul 31, 2012 9:46 pm ]
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OOC - Sorry I didn't leave you much to go on in my last post, just trying to set the scene a bit more. Also just to point out, Black doesn't know about the escaped Nauglir as they went east and he is west of the Beast Pens. Also they are not his Nauglir, he has his own Nauglir pens within his estate. They belong to Nobles, visitors, maybe even the City ruler himself.

IC -

The group advanced along the desolate road, a strange find in such a busy City that usually bustled with activity. The fact it was only a narrow back street probably meant it was of little concern to the authorities, the backs of the tall buildings of the streets behind cloaking it mostly in shadow. Despite the road looking empty, the thick snow that covered the ground was filled with countless sets of footprints, most of which looked Druchii. The tracks all seemed to be going the same way, heading into the Rats Nest through the burned out tower that stood alone on the left side of the road. This was the lair of bandits, rogues, thieves and other unsavory characters. The street was well watched, shadows flitting past windows above them on their right, keeping a watch for members of the City Guard, or worse. With Vikarh in its current state, they had much to be wary of.

Together the eight mercenaries approached the tower, Phalx and Vryala taking the lead with Karonath, Fiat and Saldrimek closely behind. Elysian stayed to the back, speaking to Casaythe and Caraoc as they cautiously approached the hollow doorway. The fact they had not been shot at or otherwise stalled told them either security was lapse or they were welcome inside, Phalx leading the group through the open doorway and into the dark corridor beyond. The hallway took them to a staircase, which led up into the burned out interior of the tower, but they took the door beside it. This led them to another staircase, one that descended down into what had once been the basement of the ruined tower.

The subterranean level was at odds with the empty tower, a vast chamber that was bustling with Druchii rogues and mercenaries. The far side of the large room had a bar, where a pair of Dwarf slaves worked under the whip of a rough looking Druchii with silver rings in his ears and a scar through his face. Another side of the chamber held doors to smaller rooms and private chambers, and to their right was the mouth of a tunnel carved into the very rock beneath Vikarh. Those that had visited before as part of the group had never plunged into the darker depths of the Rats Nest, but rumour had it they had dug a passage that met with another large underground chamber, one that was not part of the sewage systems and was not on any maps, and had been there longer than Vikarh. Having stumbled across the ancient Dwarf halls deep below the sewer levels, members of the group could well believe it.

Everywhere Druchii talked in raised voices, each trying to hear himself over the roar of conversation in the overcrowded chamber. Some were laughing, showing the heads of ratmen they had found and killed on the surface, or bags of loot they had acquired. Others boasted about similar encounters but seemed unable to show much proof, whilst others still seemed to be forming small gangs around those who seemed to be trying to decide what to do. It was reassuring to know that even some of these lowlifes were planning to fight for their City, even if only until they could find a way out as they were currently sealed in. If only they knew the true horrors that were even now being unleashed on the City above, perhaps they would not be so keen to take up arms.

A few wary looks and cold sneers were cast their way as the group ventured in, moving into the middle of the chamber as they looked and listened and decided what to do.

Author:  Raneth [ Tue Jul 31, 2012 10:41 pm ]
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They descended into the rogues' sanctum, obviously most unwelcome. Vryala, however, knew how to handle such rabble - dealing with Phalx had left her with plenty experience. With people like these, coin alone was the key.

In Vikarh's defence! she exclaimed amidst the underground hall, we need your strongest and bravest to guide us to the rats' main stronghold. Fight with us, and all the Warpstone we come across will be yours!

Waits for volunteers

Author:  Calisson [ Wed Aug 01, 2012 10:22 am ]
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The underground room the group had entered contrasted heavily with the gloomy empty street leading to it.

In the Rats Nest's barroom, there were drunks spread at the bar, sliding slowly down to the ground.
Behind the bar, the barman had a huge crossbow at hand, ready for the ingenuous that would look after the piggy bank.
An old tramp yelled with his runny mouth "more drink!"

In the Rats Nest's barroom, night's girls were calling to sell fun times.
Here, people would slowly forget the shadow of a past life, of a woman, of rubble, seeking oblivion with a perfume, a voice, still burning off the impact of parted lips, soft and moist.
In the corridor leading to the bathrooms, words engraved on the walls talked about sex, and love, and garbage, all mixed together.

In the Rats Nest's barroom, bookmakers collected the bets of the night. Here, everything could be bought and sold, the best and the worst, all the more it was not legal elsewhere.
Suddenly around one table, everyone would stop laughing when the blades came out, and folks would rush out of range towards the relative safety of the bar's door.

In the Rats Nest's barroom, old guys with their life tattooed on their whole skin were telling their memories to older guys.
There were junkies with empty eyes, surrounded by some heavy smoke of diverse origins. There were stomachs greedily filled with substances providing no nutrition and no future. Here everyone seemed wishing to forget something, many things, everything.

Similar places existed in every harbour, as far as Caraoc could tell.
Caraoc bent towards Caraythe and told him at mid-voice:
"This looks about the right place for you to recruit a decent crew."

The subterranean room rose a familiar music in Caraoc's mind.

OOC: Inspiration from: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-tTqdPsLUAA (in French, but entertaining nevertheless).
OOC: what time of the day/night might it be?
Caraoc the pilot - WS3 S4 T2 D5 I5
Equipment: staff, short bow (11/20), repeater handbow (11/20), Sea Dragon Cloak,
Inventory: -
Mount: -
Gold: 100
Skills: Power of Azyr (2), Evasion
Class: Mage (Astromancer)

Author:  Drainial [ Wed Aug 01, 2012 3:21 pm ]
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It never changed, oh there were a few more Skaven heads in evidence, thankfully served separately from the body, but you could always rely on the criminal classes to ignore wider dangers. To them the authorities were the enemy, implacable and mighty, impossible to tumble. Once upon a time, not very long ago, Elysian would have found it impossible to believe that the city could fall, that there was any threat the Drach and his elves could not destroy, truth be told he had never even considered it. What he had seen in the service of lord Blackthorn had changed his perspective however.

As Vryala sought to galvanise the mob Elysian smiled softly; she was doing alright, a call to loot was much more likely to be effective than one to patriotism. Still Elysian knew she would be unlikely to find many friends here, they could hunt rats themselves and as long as that was all they thought they were doing they probably wouldn't see the need to team up with strangers. Still it was worth a go.

It had been quite some time since Elysian had been here, before he had ever set foot in the Blackthorn estate and the business with the vampire. Not having much to add to Vryala’s plea he turned his attention to the room, trying to pick out any familiar faces from his life of crime.

Not much to add. Elysian will be on the lookout for anyone he knew as a thief either friend or foe.

Author:  Nightcall [ Wed Aug 01, 2012 3:56 pm ]
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Casaythe nodded at Caraoc's remark and replied in a hushed voice, 'I think you could be right.' He looked about himself and whistled at the place. It was completely unexpected. He never knew it had existed before now. 'In better times, I might spend a bit more time in a place like this...' he added, throwing a dazzling smile at a passing wench.

Some of the Druchii here were throwing them scowls and staring at them with scrutiny. Casaythe walked with a confident swagger, glowering in in return at any who threw him cold sneers. He'd spent most of his life with whoresons like this. He wasn't about to be intimidated by the odd glare.

The one called Vryala seemed to be trying to recruit some help from the rogues gathered. She seemed professional, and Casaythe wondered if that would arouse animosity. The corsair made sure his spare hand was hovering over his valuables. Fingers were light amid such company. He wasn't taking any chances.

Taking it all in.

Author:  Dauricha [ Wed Aug 01, 2012 8:12 pm ]
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Phalx listened to Vryala and chuckled. what was she thinking? He moved away from the group, and went over the the filthy bar. He ordered a shot of firespit, passing an extra coin to the barman saying, So which one buggers in your Nest knows how to hold a sword?

Author:  Kinslayer [ Thu Aug 02, 2012 9:17 pm ]
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The group moved into the middle of the underground tavern, Phalx already skulking off into the crowd as Elysian tried to remain unseen, looking for any faces he might recognise. Behind them, Casaythe and Caraoc tried to keep a low profile as well while discussing the potential for returning here one day to hire a crew if they found a new ship. Fiat, Saldrimek and Karonath stood with them, casting menacing glares at those Druchii who seemed to stare and judge them as they entered. It was Vryala who strode boldly forwards and declared the groups' intention, trying to rouse some of the lowlifes into action.

Phalx listened from the bar as a roar of laughter reverberated around the hot and stuffy chamber, knowing that his comrades' first attempt at summoning aid had already failed. He was leaning across the bar and handed the tavern master a few gold coins, three for his drink and one for an answer. He too just received a rumbling laugh however, having asked the bartender which of those in the chamber could wield a sword. It wasn't just the Druchii with the whip behind the bar who was laughing, the small groups sat to either side of the Shade laughed at him as well, making jests and nodding over their shoulders as they told those who hadn't heard. The Shade felt his blood start to boil with anger.

A tall Druchii sat a little further down the bar from Phalx stood up, drawing a longsword from his scabbard and a dagger from a concealed sheath across his back.
"It is I! I am the one who can wield a sword!""
The mercenaries' mockery earned another great roar of laughter from those nearby, as a dozen others drew blades, chains and axes and waved them in the air.
"The question is," the bartender exclaimed as he casually coiled his whip in case a fight broke out, "Can you hold onto yours, newcomer?"

Across the stone floor of the underground hideout, a ring of bandits and mercenaries had formed around the rest of the group, Vryalas' call to arms not quite having the intended effect upon the ramshackle mass. Blades were drawn and pints of stolen dwarf ale spilled as Druchii slammed them onto tables and bellowed their retorts. It took a few moments for the bandit laughter to die down to the point where the group could hear what the fools were shouting at them.
"And who are you to lead us against these ratmen, woman?" called one drunkard.
"You think you can just come down here and tell us what to do, we make our own fight against these Skaven!"

By this point some of the lowlife and laughed it off and turned back to their drinks, restarted their previous conversations or even gone as far as to walk away into one of the smaller rooms adjacent to the tavern. The group realized there was still a large mob formed around the bar, brandishing their weapons at someone. Around the same time the group noticed that Phalx was no longer standing with them, and that they didn't need to see through the wall of bandits before them to know it was the Shade causing trouble. At that point however, a hooded rogue approached them from out of the crowd, almost seeming to simply walk across the room and pass them by to the untrained eye. As he fleeted past however, the bandit rogue seemed to look Elysian in the face and whisper something.

The rest of the group noticed, but before they could react their eyes were drawn back to the bar, where armed mercenaries were rising up to Phalxs' accidental challenge in their dozens.

Elysian kept his eyes on the familiar Druchii that had just passed him however, watching as he slipped unseen into one of the small side chambers. His words had been silent but clear.

"I can help you, meet me inside."

OOC - Drainial, feel free to make up a name for this rogue as it will be someone you have met before, an old friend or ally from your old thief syndicate if you like.

Author:  Raneth [ Thu Aug 02, 2012 11:45 pm ]
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Vryala grinned. These scoundrels had ample liquid bravery coursing through their system, and in this raucous mood they sought to challenge whatever authority she had, merely for the sake of instigating a fight. However, she could tell none of them were willing to suffer serious harm, let alone death, over just a common bar brawl. Not so with V; she was on a mission, and she could do scare tactics double quick, right back at them. Lead you...? A throaty laugh followed. Lead you? I wouldn't DREAM of taking any of you into my service! I came here looking for a guide, thinking the denizens of this place would be privy to Vikarh's darker secrets... instead, all I get is this sorry bunch of drunk whoresons. Well have it your way, then, if you won't have my coin, perhaps you'll be more accepting of death! Surely none will mourn your passing!

Vryala readies a few grenades. Let's blow this joint!

Author:  Drainial [ Fri Aug 03, 2012 2:23 pm ]
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As Elysian had expected Vryala's attempts proved unsuccessful; well she had succeeded in rousing the mob but not in harnessing their drunken wrath against the greater threat. He was about to suggest they cut their losses and leave this place when he glimpsed a familiar face in the crowd. She wanted to be seen, the way Elysian knew that was that if she didn't he wouldn't have noticed her, not without specially looking anyway. Shayla had always been good at not being noticed when it wasn't convenient. He had not seen anyone from the old syndicate since it had split apart, beheaded by a strike on a rare meeting of the leadership, while Shyala had not been a friend precisely (even amongst thieves magic made people uncomfortable) her appearance certainly warranted attention. Elysian had been away for months, she would know the Nest's current condition far better than him.

"I can help you, meet me inside," she said. Looking around Elysian certainly saw no better offer on the table. In fact it seemed that the ever abrasive shade was on the cusp of staring a bar brawl and from the sound of it Vryala was not interested in stopping it so much as egging it on, it was as if they had forgotten the troubles of the city as completely as the bar flies.

"We don't have time for this, have a drink or something, I will be back shortly." Thieves on the whole tended to be private people, she probably wouldn't appreciate him bringing along a bellicose pseudo noble, an angry shade, a hulking warrior, two Khainites and a pair of corsairs he had met about an hour ago. Introductions could wait, if they were needed at all.

Elysian will follow Shayla (for so I shall call the nameless rouge, I hope it is alright I made her female) alone.

Author:  Nightcall [ Fri Aug 03, 2012 4:09 pm ]
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The rowdy atmosphere took a turn for the worse. "I had a feeling there would be trouble." Casaythe thought to himself as he threw a sidelong glance at Vrayla. There went his chances of charming the locals.

He considered the situation. They were heavily outnumbered here, so no use drawing his sword or priming his crossbow. He calmly pulled his glaive from his back and slowly let the staff end strike the floor. If the mob turned really nasty, a few sweeps with the head around his body would cut a few inches off the bastards, at least buy them some time to get away. He hoped...

The air could be cut with a knife. The laughter had ebbed, yet there was an angry look to the mob that were still close by; their eyes fixated on the group. Casaythe looked to Caraoc, wondering if he would use his powers or diffuse the situation with some more bad singing.

Just then, the one named Elysian skulked off. Casaythe took a deep breathe in surprise. 'Hang on a minute... Who's side is he on?' he asked of the remainder of his new companions.

'"Have a drink or something" says he. I damn well need one now.'

Trying to stay alive

Author:  Kinslayer [ Fri Aug 03, 2012 9:29 pm ]
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OOC - Sorry Calisson I forgot to reply. In Winter Vikarh only has a few hours of sunlight, otherwise caught in a perpetual twilight or utter darkness. At the moment daylight has passed, as it was being blacked out by the approach of the magical storm, but it is not yet completely dark, so assume it is early evening.

IC -

In the main chamber, Vryalas' threat saw more than just a few of the upstart commonfolk back down, but still several stood their ground in defiance of her threat and summons.
"You bare the mark of a Noble house," one bandit called, "Why should be take you anywhere?"
Another brutish looking mercenary continued to laugh, and unslung a two handed axe from across his back as he stepped forward.
"Put away that sword before you hurt yourself, little lady."
Behind the female Warrior, Karonath, Fiat and Saldrimek held their ground in anticipation of a fight.

Casaythe on the other hand, watching as Elysian slipped away through the crowd, decided that if their own comrades' were now abandoning them in the face of so many unfriendlies that he should too. He turned and whispered to Caraoc, before leading the Corsair Mage in the direction of the bar. He needed a drink, but the small crowd that was formed around the other member of the mercenary party proved hard to shoulder aside. After a moment of shoving and elbowing, he found himself at the bar, just as the bartender readied his barbed whip. One of the slave dwarfs looked at him with hollow eyes, the faintest glimmer of hope so often seen in the eyes of the recently broken long since gone from this poor soul.

Elysian closed the door behind him with a soft click, and then turned to look across the small stone chamber to where Shayla had perched herself on the edge of a bed. The room was decorated with red linen and candles, and a heavy incense filled the air. Clearly these chambers were meant for pleasure seekers, but Elysian sought only answers and a sense of direction in the madness that was gripping Vikarh. The rogue Shayla had been a part of the thief syndicate that had brought him up, and ever she was the eyes and ears of that organization. Someone who knew much, but was not to be trusted for that reason alone. As he turned to face her, she lowered her hood and revealed her alabaster face, one that Elysian had not forgotten.

"You seek the lair of the ratmen?" she asked, "I do not think you know what you are up against, to go running so blindly into the dark. I never thought that was your strategy, Shadowmancer. Clearly the goons who accompany you are taking that from you though, if it wasn't for them I would never have seen you enter this place. Likewise though, you would not have seen me."

Elysian clenched his jaw and nodded, trying to make sense of everything Shayla was trying to imply, while trying to decide if he trusted her enough to even listen.

"The rats are a big problem in this district, but Vikarh is faced now with threats that make them but a shadow of a threat. The North Gate has fallen, and the East Wall has been breached south of the gate. Northmen burn through the Nobles Quarter unchecked, even as the Midnight Guard hold the North Road against the tide. In the east however, the Beastmen have broken through and overwhelmed the Temples' defences. The Maibds hurry to join the fray, but the tide is vast and their numbers are few.

The authorities already cleaned up most of the vermin problem, but if you still want to go looking for the rest of them I know where they have dug in and are launching sporadic attacks from. I can show you, but you would have to bring those goons you came in with. The area is now stalked by rat beasts bigger than an Orc, and some of the fiends have set up some sort of warmachines to cover the surrounding road. Already I have seen six groups of these bandit thugs attempt it and fail, either torn apart by the claws of the raging rat ogres, or blasted to oblivion by their strange weapons of war."

Author:  Calisson [ Fri Aug 03, 2012 10:24 pm ]
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The female warrior had taken an unexpected stance, calling for help the careless inhabitants of this room of forbidden pleasures. Was she an authority among the underground society?
As she received only mockeries for answer, Caraoc realized that Vryala was not really that familiar with this kind of society.

Meanwhile, the Hooded crossbowman seemed to have started a riot, at least it was more or less a laughing one. It seemed that Phalx was not at ease with those beings either.

Caraoc turned towards Elysian to ask him if he knew any better how to talk to such people.
Unfortunately, the hooded companion was nowhere to be seen. Did he leave the group or what? Where did he go?

In the group which had adopted Casaythe and Caraoc, two were in trouble, one was gone, two were wounded and the last one was silent. The group was still strong enough to deter any quarrel with no real motive.
However, to see the female warrior and the shade running into trouble was not a good sight. Maybe it would be time to ease the tensions?

The stare of Casaythe showed very clearly that Caraoc had to do something. Indeed, Caraoc knew that himself looked strange and would attract curiosity, but he looked not threatening and would become very easily a jolly companion in any kind of society - especially if they apreciated popular songs.

The one digging in the deepest trouble seemed to be Vryala.
Caraoc left Casaythe sliding towards Phalx, he would react appropirately (er, I mean appropriately) there.

Let's start the diversion.

Caraoc picked up an empty glass on a table nearby and walked to the side of the group, in view of the laughing mercenaries.
Then he started to sing, faking a heavily drunken voice, his staff marking the rythm on the floor.

"A drieenk? Yeaaaaay! One! Two! One two three four!
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
I can't get up out of bed
With this crazy feeling in my head.
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine."

He looked around with a big grin, trying to encourage people to clap(-ton) in their hands and cheer with him. Usually those who were only half drunk would react best.

"Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
You hear what I say?
Gonna love you anyway.
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine."

Starting a merry song about drinkin' and drinkin' again.

OOC: Thanks Eric Clapton. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OBVuyvDjgY4

Caraoc the pilot - WS3 S4 T2 D5 I5
Equipment: staff, short bow (11/20), repeater handbow (11/20), Sea Dragon Cloak,
Inventory: -
Mount: -
Gold: 100
Skills: Power of Azyr (2), Evasion
Class: Mage (Astromancer)

Author:  Nightcall [ Sat Aug 04, 2012 10:13 am ]
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'Ger'out of the way... move it!' Casaythe grumbled as he forced his way through the throng. His eyes peeled for hands slipping to knives as he elbowed his way through the crowd, he finally made it to the bar. It seemed that the mob had recognised him as a corsair rather than a city official, yet that still did not prevent insults and threats being hurled at him as he barged his way through. 'Yeah, after he bedded your mother.' he spat back at a pock marked Druchii who had shouted something about Casaythe's father.

Caraoc had started to sing. Casaythe rolled his eyes at the terrible melody and thought that Caraoc's efforts would either lighten the situation, or give the mob a new target. The odd looking fellow was more than capable of holding his own, and Casaythe almost hoped the mob would turn on him. It was always so funny when Caraoc surprised them with a blast of something nasty.

He snarled at a well broken dwarf slave as he found a gap at the bar near the hostile Phalx and slid a coin over the counter, noticing the barman was toying with a barbed whip, readying it for an attack.

'Give me a shot of brandy or whatever else you have that isn't made of horse piss.' He wagged a finger at the barman, adding, 'We don't want no trouble. But if you do, I'll gladly cut off that whip arm of yours and stick it up your arse.'

He leant his glaive against the counter and eyeballed the barman, seeing what he would do.

Using tones he is familiar with for dealing with ruffians, hoping the situation will improve. Aware Phalx isn't overly keen on his new companions, but watching his back anyway.

Author:  Drainial [ Sat Aug 04, 2012 5:17 pm ]
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"Good to see you too Shayla," Elysian said with a flinty smile. The sight of his old acquaintance in a whore's boudoir amused him, she was really quite pretty but rather, selective, with her affections. His mind as wandering however, there were more important issues at hand.

"They are fine warriors," he said in answer to Shayla's comments about the others "though even the shade lacks any sense of subtlety. I wouldn't take them on a spire raid or even pick pocketing but for bashers you will find few better," he left out the fact that the corsairs were unknowns, that would only complicate things.
"That is what we want right now. The question is though what's in this for you? You were never one to hand out aid with nothing in return? We work for an agency with a strong desire to keep the city in one piece, don’t tell me you have suddenly become patriotic.

Elysian is listening and willing to follow her but doesn't quite trust her motives.

Author:  Kinslayer [ Sat Aug 04, 2012 9:13 pm ]
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Whatever the group had intended to achieve upon entering the Rats Nest, they had now well and truly blown whatever chance they had of accomplishing that task. Vryala was under threat by a small group of mercenaries, and her hand clutched a fire bomb as though she intended to bring the crumbling tower above them down on their very heads. Her comrades seemed ready to defend her should anybody actually attack, but they remained in silence as the threats and jibes were hurled their way. It was at that moment however that Caraoc stepped forward, starting to sing a merry bar song in the hope of tempering the mobs frustrations.

As far as he could tell, on this occasion it seemed to work. Some of the drunks joined in with his tune as others turned away or laughed and cheered, drowning their fears about what lay above in red wine.

No longer about to receive a knife in the back or an all out attack from those around them, the majority of the group moved as one towards the bar, Caraoc leaving the mob in high spirits once more. At the bar however, the bandits and thugs were less interested in singing along and more in the Shade who roared his defiance as a blade was thrust his way. It was the one who had responded to Phalxs' invitation, and the Shade deflected his blow as he swung for him and stepped around the attacker. He caught the thug by the head as he passed, smashing him down face first into the bar where teeth and blood splattered across the wooden surface. The Druchii fell to the floor clutching his face, and Phalx kicked his blade away and let out a wild snarl.

His victorious cry turned into a hiss of pain as something sharp tore into his cheek, opening a deep red gouge in his flesh as a loud crack! echoed around the chamber.

It was the bartender, now coiling his whip back up for a second strike should the Shade not get the message. Casaythe stood close to the Druchii, also ready to strike if necessary.

In the private chamber, Elysian continued to speak with Shayla, eliciting a cruel smile from the rogue Druchii as he questioned her motives.
"I could say that I will help you based on our old kinship alone, but you would know that I was lying. Yes, there is something I require of you and your friends in return. The rats have dug in around a sewer opening, one of the few such tunnels beneath the City which actually lead beyond the walls. We've all been locked in Vikarh to face these threats, and I fancy my chances of making it out through the breach in the East Wall about as much as I desire to stay here and die. That's why so many have attempted to take the tunnel from the rats already, perhaps even why the rats have taken the location in the first place, receiving reserves from outside.

If I show you where to find the rats and you successfully destroy the beasts that guard them, I can get past and flee Vikarh before it is burned to the ground along with everyone in it.

That, and you and your friends bare the mark of a Noble house. I suspect that your coin purses are exceptionally heavy, and would gladly rid you of this burden on my way out..."

Author:  Raneth [ Sun Aug 05, 2012 1:24 am ]
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Locked in a standoff, V gripped her grenade tightly for the impending throw, now also readying her blade. Several weapons had been drawn, tension was running high. By now bloodshed seemed inevitable, every fiber of her mind etched for the fight ahead...

...until suddenly, the clamor of song broke the silence. Apparently the Corsair thought this all a light and joyous occasion, not to be taken seriously. Vryala growled in disbelief, but then witnessed the effect it had on those challenging her - inebriated as they were, just as inclined to engage in song as to in fisticuffs. The scoundrels around now laughed, still jesting at her sore demeanor but clearly no longer hostile. She shrugged, and took up a glass. Quite liking the sound of Caraoc's voice, she decided to sit this one out as far as diplomacy went. ...nuh nuh nuh, bottle of red wine...

Then, commotion, apparently at the bar. Of course: Phalx. The others seemed to be closing in to help him out, and V grudgingly realised she should do likewise. Dammit, at least you could have let me finish my wine... She rose from her seat with a dramatic sigh, mumbling to none in particular: Such a thankless job this can be sometimes...

Approaching the bar, V gets out her own whip, but waits to see how the Shade will act before making a move herself.

Author:  Dauricha [ Sun Aug 05, 2012 7:19 am ]
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Phalx's question had taken him down an entirely unseen path. Piss and bloody darkness, he thought, as bastard upon bastard drew sword or axe. The Shades eyes glanced this way and that, as he placed his empty shot glass down. he had moments, mere moments before someone died, and it wasn't going to be him. He might die a few moments after, but he wasn't going to be first.
It was going pretty bad for the others as well, he only now noticed that some of the group had disappeared from the main room. Just bloody great.

He moved as a thug lunged at him. His reflexes were honed past normal levels, and the fool was a drunk. It was easy. With a sharp grab he slammed the fools head into the bar. It gave a satisfying crunching crack, as a few drops of blood fell on his old cloak.

He kicked the knife away, making ready for another assault. Pain, hard stinging pain crossed his face, as he felt a scrap of flesh tear and come loss. It was the friggin barmen! He gave another fierce snarl as his hands drew to Deathspitter. He vaguely remembered that he had quick death bolts loaded in the already deadly weapon.

Phalx will back step, drawing Deathspitter. With its Quick Death bolts, he will fire upon the barman, then any thug who thinks he wants to die.

Author:  Calisson [ Sun Aug 05, 2012 9:34 am ]
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"...Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine."
Some of the drunks had joined in with this tune as others turned away or laughed and cheered, drowning their fears about what lay above in red wine.
Vryala would escape that time unhurted, except for some drink she would have to share.

How Casaythe and the Shade are doing at the bar?
A whip snap was the answer, along with a hiss of pain. The situation was very confused with a dense crowd where nobody could be singled out.
A melee seemed to have started. No way to participate, especially not by shooting bolts into the intricated mass of moving bodies.

Is it not enough with Chaos and Skaven and Beastmen or whatever, do we need to fight Druchii too? Let's stop them before they do anything stupid.

Caraoc shouted to his new drunken friends:
"A brawl! It's a brawl!"
That should add confusion to confusion, at least nothing worse than bruises would come out.

After singing a while, Caraoc was filled with Azyr energy, and so was his staff.
While he was singing, he could feel the vibration in the glass he was holding. Some particular tones would make the glass shiver dangerously.
That could be fun! Let's try the same vibes towards the bar and all the glasses and bottles that are piled behind.

Caraoc took his best tenor voice, and emptied his lungs full of Azyr energy with long lasting tremolos:
"A braaaawl! A braaaaawl! A braaaaawl!"
<deep inspiration - aiming voice towards the bar>
At this time, the glass he was holding shattered.

Trying to break all glass in the room with his voice.

Caraoc the pilot - WS3 S4 T2 D5 I5
Equipment: staff, short bow (11/20), repeater handbow (11/20), Sea Dragon Cloak,
Inventory: -
Mount: -
Gold: 100
Skills: Power of Azyr (2), Evasion
Class: Mage (Astromancer)

Author:  Nightcall [ Sun Aug 05, 2012 11:08 am ]
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The barman snapped his whip across the shade's face, and the locals kicked off. Phalx was quick, and before the corsair had a chance to take his coin back (realising the odds of being served now were nil), the shade had broken a Druchii's face. The corsair tilted his head with a smile, admiring the bold efficiency of the Druchii. He then grabbed his glaive and drew his shortsword, pointing the end at the barman as Phalx primed his crossbow. 'So that's the way you want it, eh?' There weren't many men who liked to have their limbs severed and shoved in strange places, Casaythe thought. The barman was either stupid or blinded with anger... or then again, he might be a Slaanesh worshipper...

Caraoc had roused the drunken patrons into a merry sing-along. Their spirits had been lightened. Apparently noting the trouble at the bar, the jolly singing from behind was broken by screeches proclaiming a brawl. Caraoc's voice reached a crescendo and to Casaythe's dismay, the bottle of wine he had hanging from his hip, which he had pilfered earlier in the market square amidst the looting, shattered. He slowly stepped back from the bar, realising what might happen next. "Good move, Caraoc"

Holding on to his glaive with his left hand, his shortsword is gripped in his right. If anyone attacks, he will defend himself with his sword and riposte with a chop. Not enough room for a good lunge, or the sweeping glaive... unless of course, mass carnage is required.

Author:  Drainial [ Sun Aug 05, 2012 8:29 pm ]
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"You, leave Vikrah?" Elysian laughed "what are you going to do, steal pine cones and spy on bears? Still if that's what you want then fair enough though if the city falls I doubt you will be much safer." Elysian had never been beyond the city walls and didn't particularly care to. Maybe the secretive Shayla had been, that he didn't know but if she was willing to help then it didn't really matter. Then again she could just be lying. Whatever her motives she seemed to want to help and if she was setting them up she was pretty stupid, there were easier marks out there.

"You have a deal, watch yourself with the others though, they are not a trusting bunch. You take us to the nest and we will clear them out, we have plenty of experience in that area. What you do from there is your affair. At any rate we should get going as soon as possible, I am sure my comrades are making a mess of things out there, they are like lightning rods for calamity and violence. Khaine knows how I have survived in their company, makes the old syndicate seem like a desk job."

Elysian provisionally agrees to Shalya's offer, obviously this is dependent on the rest of the group accepting her as guide but he will argue in her favour and vouch for her if they argue. If she had nothing else to say he will go back out into the bar. Obviously he doesn't know about the bar fight yet. Emerging out he will not wade strait in unless he is needed to save the life of any of the others immediately (not quite sure where the door is). Instead he will try to project a feeling of apathetic calm through the room (a mind altering spell but a low intensity one) to calm people down and hopefully keep others from getting involved and maybe persuade the less enraged patrons already involved to sit down and have a drink rather than stick a knife in someone's ribs.

Author:  Kinslayer [ Sun Aug 05, 2012 11:16 pm ]
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Elysian decided to accept Shaylas' offer showing the group where the ratmen were hiding, at least pending the approval of the rest of the group. If anything it would save them time, the other option being to search the roads until they found another trail of dead bodies, and then hope they found the rats and not the Nauglir. Shayla gave him one more smile, a trait he found somewhat more disturbing than affectionate coming from the thief, and then told him she would meet him outside. He nodded his understanding, and turned to leave the small room and head back into the main chamber.

The stairs out were on his right, and the bar almost immediately on his left. He could see straight away that there was trouble. As he returned, the familiar patter of Deathspitter opening fire suddenly filled the air. The Mage could not see properly through the crowded bandits at the bar, but the strangled cry that followed could only have come from the bartender. Phalx left the man with two bolts in his chest, his cheek still throbbing with pain where a small chunk of flesh was now hanging loose. He immediately span to face the patrons around him, knowing that the weathered old fool he had just shot dead no doubt had at least a few friends in the crowd.

Vryala was the fastest to react to the first such contender, lashing her own whip to catch the mercenaries' dagger arm as he lunged for Phalxs' back. A moment later two brutes seated near Casaythe sprang to their feet, hurling themselves past the Corsair in the direction of the Shade. The newcomer was resting on his glaive, but had drawn his sword in anticipation of such a move. He brought his sword around and deflected one that was raised, not actually sure if the blade was coming for him or Phalx. As he turned the blade aside he brought his sword up and back down in a diagonal chop, which sent the brawler stumbling away with a red line traced across his back.

The other one of the two reached Phalx, but stopped a step away with his sword raised in a two handed grip over his head. His face was fixed with a berserk look of rage, which slowly dwindled into one of confusion and pain. The brute looked down at the iron bolt that now protruded from his chest, stood was he was a few feet in front of the mouth of Phalxs' crossbow. He was bare chested, and the veins that spread out from the wound had already turned black and were visible through his pale skin. He died a few moments later, his sword clattering to the floor and causing an angry roar to steadily build up from those around them to those further away.

It was at that point however, that those at the other end of the tavern who were singing along to the song Caraoc had stopped, unable to keep up with his rising momentum and pitch. The sea faring Mage urged the Wind of Azyr to flow to him like the tide of an invisible river of energy, and used it to warp the very air around him. The one basic element most attuned to the heavens and the power of Azyr, the power flowed readily into his staff and limbs, and he channeled it into his voice. Although his voice could not physically reach the pitch he required, the power that accompanied it did the job on his behalf. The glass he had been drinking from suddenly shattered, and a moment later the chamber was filled with shards of exploding glass.

Many mercenaries were just rising from their seats, forgetting the calming song as another fight began to break out, only to find their bottles and glasses smashed in their hands. Most jumped in shock, as others hissed in pain as glass splinters punched into their skin. At the bar itself however, there was a sudden shower of glistening razor shards as hundreds of bottles and glasses burst and showered everyone in wine. Vryala and Casaythe pulled their heavy cloaks about them, as Phalx reacted quickly to the sudden shock of the explosion by diving headlong for the ground. The bandits that had attacked them were quickly distracted, and as the patter of raining glass hitting stone floor stopped, all rose slowly and looked about in confusion.

Elysian was already working a spell of his own, holding a sleeve up against the exploding glass as he was far enough away from the main blast not to be struck by more than a few splinters. He saw that most of the group still stood around Caraoc with their weapons drawn to fend any off who dared attack them; Karonath, Fiat and Saldrimek thus far avoiding attention. It was Phalx, Vryala and Casaythe who were in trouble at the bar however, and before it could escalate the Shadowmancer reached out and cast a gentle wave of Ulgu magic through the air. The spell spread an aura of calm across the chamber, a weak enough dose to be easily widely cast and fortunately not having to contend with any raging bandits thanks to Caraocs' distraction.

The Shadow Mage felt a figure fleet past behind him and head for the stairs, and so moved quickly over to Vryala and Casaythe as Phalx regained his feet. Before the Shade could kick off again, Elysian put a hand on his shoulder as well as that of Vryala. He told them they had to leave, that he had found what they were looking for. Phalx seemed eager to restart the bar fight, but Vryala nodded her stern understanding and waved for Casaythe to follow back to the others. They regrouped in the middle of the chamber, Elysian suggesting that they head outside before his spell that was calming the taverns' patrons wore off.

Only once outside and away from prying ears would he tell them of Shayla and her offer, and could only hope that the group could trust her almost as much as he did, which wasn't very much at all.

Author:  Calisson [ Mon Aug 06, 2012 7:05 am ]
Post subject: 

After the last piece of glass had reached the ground, the room stayed still and silent, people barely moving at all, wondering what was going on.
Was it the drink they had or the shock of the blast? Was it the heavy smell of red wine filling quickly the atmosphere?
Was it that they were feeling an aura of calm spreading slowly across their mind, as Caraoc himself was experiencing?

Hundreds of glasses and bottles had been shuttered with Caraoc's exceptional tenor tremolos. An incredible feat, the kind of which legends are made with.
Wow! What a voice! Caraoc was rightly proud of his achievement.
He turned towards his new companions of song, who were all stunned with their destroyed bottles.
Caraoc smiled at the assistance, and saluted with emphase.
"Thank you my friends! Just call me: The VOICE!"


Meanwhile, near the bar, the melee had stopped. Everyone had been forced to bend down in order to avoid the splinters from explosing bottles. Now, a few silhouettes were progressively emerging.
Hey? Elysian is back?
Casaythe and half of the group were around the hooded companion. They seemed to be already heading outside.

Caraoc told the other half of the group, around him:
"With the wine vapors spreading in the room, shouldn't we get out with the others?"

Moving out slowly, with a becalming feeling in mind - and a big smile.

OOC: good fun!
Caraoc the pilot - WS3 S4 T2 D5 I5
Equipment: staff, short bow (11/20), repeater handbow (11/20), Sea Dragon Cloak,
Inventory: -
Mount: -
Gold: 100
Skills: Power of Azyr (2), Evasion
Class: Mage (Astromancer)

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