|SAU XV: Pawn of the Dead
|Page 1 of 7|
|Author:||Tarbo [ Mon Mar 16, 2009 7:09 pm ]|
|Post subject:||SAU XV: Pawn of the Dead|
Peace and quiet. Some might think such concepts myths or idle, unattainable ideals in a land as hostile as Naggaroth, but in a single city of no exceptional size or particular importance, tranquillity was the norm, and this chilly but bright day in early winter only added to it.
Snow had already settled as a white, soft, gentle blanket over the grassy plains and parks; frozen droplets festively adorned leafless trees and conifers; birds twittered and sang under the bright sun and blue skies. Elves went about their daily business, preoccupied with leading their lives with little or no surprises.
So too with young Anleth, Captain of the Temple Guard. She was looking for Mioralynthia, a sorceress she was well acquainted with, and knew that today she would be at the city hall. She made for the front desk to find out where exactly she could find her, since the city hall was a large and often confusing structure.
"Excuse me," she addressed one of the clerks, who returned a polite smile, "I'm looking for mistress Mioralynthia. I've heard she would be at the city hall today."
"Ah, yes, one moment please," the clerk replied, and went through papers serving some administrative function of which Anleth was unaware.
"But how?" a man standing next to her, clearly agitated, argued with another clerk. "How can I possibly be declared dead when I'm standing right here, telling you I'm not dead? Do I look dead to you?"
Anleth's eyebrow curved slightly when she picked up bits of the conversation, but quickly returned her attention to the clerk assisting her. "Third floor, second door on your left," she was told.
"Thank you," she replied, and made in the direction she was given.
This was it, Anleth surmised, and knocked on the oaken door blocking her path. An exceedingly toneless, neutral 'yes' came from inside, and Anleth, cautioned by the tone, carefully opened the door.
Dozens of paper sheets of uniform size and style littered desks and most of the floor. An old painting hung slanted from the wall, lazily pointing to a tasteless vase that lied flat on an end table, its flowers and most of the water sprawled over the marble floor. Mioralynthia was kneeling on the floor collecting papers with a characteristic, if clearly forced, calm.
"What, eh...?" Anleth didn't understand. Mioralynthia was an orderly woman, unlikely to skip dandily through the office, throwing around stack upon stack of memo's, which was one of the possible causes cursorily considered--and discarded--by Anleth's imagination.
"Our administration captured and confiscated a group of sprites," the sorceress explained without looking up from collecting paper sheets.
"Sprites?" Anleth looked about herself, then slowly began collecting papers of her own, hoping she would get some sort of explanation in the meantime.
"Sprites are winged, mischievous, tiny creatures that ride up magic channels and vortices, such as those opened when spuriously overcharging a sorcerous spell. They become very playful when inadvertently released in a neighbouring office, and are apparently capable of causing a dire mess in instants."
"Ah, so the scorch mark on the wall...?" Anleth pointed over her shoulder.
"No, that would be me. I missed."
"And in the corner--"
"I hit. Repeatedly." Mioralynthia's cold but level tone made Anleth forgo on any ancillary questions. "That aside, Captain, how can I be of service to you?"
"I've received a letter from Tarbo; he's coming over on vacation and invites us to come skiing with him."
"Vacation," Mioralynthia sighed forlornly. A tiny, winged creature flew past her with a mischievous giggle, knocking over an ink stand on her desk. "Vacation sounds so nice."
Anleth nodded sympathetically, but instantly stopped when one of the memo's she was holding caught her eye. "Mistress," she asked for the sorceress' attention, "have you read this memo?"
"Possibly," Mioralynthia murmured, barely audible, and looked over the relevant sheet of paper.
"Sir?" a clerk asked hurriedly while stumbling into the office (and almost over the two women kneeled on the floor), finding an adjudant with sufficient authority in the blink of an eye. "Sir, there's someone at the front desk who claims he's not dead, but our records say he passed away last week."
The adjudant, an elderly elf of a decidedly practical bend, looked up from his recently messed desk and frowned. "Dead, you say? Is he decomposing?"
"I, ah, couldn't really tell, sir. But he was frothing from his mouth when I left."
"Is he saying he's not dead... or undead?"
"Aha," Mioralynthia said, both eyebrows raised. For a moment, the adjudant and clerk believed they were being addressed, but they seemed mistaken. "Interesting."
"Mistress?" Anleth willed her to elaborate.
"We are due at the residence of the High Emissary of His Majesty the King of Naggaroth."
"We are? When?"
"In..." She looked at the clock and narrowed her eyes. "...two minutes. Give or take."
"Do we know why we are being called upon?" Anleth asked while hurriedly descending the long, wide staircase leading to the front desk and out of the city hall.
"Not the slightest," Mioralynthia replied, focusing more on not tripping down the stairs than really giving it a lot of thought. "We'll be briefed once we get there."
"And... are they fighting at the front desk? Are those wooden stakes?"
"No time. Let the front desk worry about what happens at the front desk. Coach!" she called while running out the front doors. Anleth followed immediately with only a brief look over her shoulder.
"Hold him down!" came the shouts from behind her. "Aim for the heart!"
Diffuse light shone through the mosaically blue, wall-height windows onto the cold stone floor. Lustres and candelabras shone their points of light proudly through tiny, fractal prisms, displaying their everchanging beauty on the walls and ceiling. One could stare for hours at the playful dance of colourful light... if one were paying attention.
Anleth admitted to some nervosity. She had never before been called to Rensat, the local emissary of the Witch King, and she was unsure of proper protocol. She was more of a military figure, and ill at home in the highest social echelons. Even the butler leading them to the meeting chamber, with nose and chin gently raised, straight back, and impeccable tuxedo made her feel underprepared for the occasion. Best to follow Mioralynthia's lead on this.
"Ah, there you are. Right on time," Rensat greeted them with perfect articulation. As envoy, Rensat saw to any and all things that the king wished and that in any way involved this city. Her sharp facial features, quick but controlled gestures, and clear voice hinted to a woman not to be trifled with. She dismissed her servant with a quick flick of the wrist, and beckoned her two visitors to join her at the center table.
"Allow me to cut to the chase," Rensat proceeded straightforwardly. "I've called on you because you have experience in retrieving valuable artifacts and relics from the most diverse of locations. I think of the deep jungles of Lustria, the far plains of the Chaos Wastes, to name but a few."
Usually, Anleth would welcome appreciation of previous efforts that otherwise seemed to go mostly unnoticed, or at the least unmentioned, but she noticed Mioralynthia fidgeting uneasily, and that alarmed her. She knew something she didn't.
"House Salth has expressed the intent to retrieve several valuable artifacts that seem to reside in an abandoned settlement. You've heard of Redoris, I assume? It's comparatively closeby, void of any life, and shouldn't pose anything of a challenge, logistics aside.
"Nonetheless, House Salth would like to leave nothing to chance and has been promised your full cooperation in this endeavour. You shall lend your equipment, manpower, and expertise to the better of this expedition. Your employer will meet you at the temple. Here is the official mission statement," and Rensat held out a sealed envelope, passed Mioralynthia, and handed it over to Anleth. "Report back as soon as you return. Good day to you."
Mioralynthia bowed politely, immediately followed by Anleth, and retreated from the meeting chamber. Anleth kept tactfully quiet, unsure of whether to hand the letter to Mioralynthia and restore some of her pride, or leave the letter where it had been originally entrusted.
"She gave you the letter, Captain," Mioralynthia started, lacking any tone of stung pride, "not because she does not trust me with it--if so, she would not require my presence--but because you would dutifully accept that letter without hesitation, and read it only after you had left her residence."
Anleth suddenly held, rolled her eyes to the letter in her hand, and then rolled them back to the sorceress. A few moments of silent realisation passed until she unceremoniously ripped the envelope apart, snatched out the contained letter, and quickly flicked it open for reading. "Oh, Lord Khaine," she sighed.
"Do keep the suspense, Captain."
"Our employer is Lady Elyssa Salth."
Mioralynthia looked at the open sky while trying to recall the name. It was there somewhere, deep in the dark recesses of almost repressed memory. "Elyssa Salth. I recall her name... Yes, she has won a beauty contest, hasn't she?"
"She was also almost disqualified because she was convinced Easter Monday would fall on a Thursday, this year."
"And now I recall why my memory was reluctant to dig up the recollection it had so carefully repressed."
A quick glance on Elyssa Salth's body instantly explained why she was a winning candidate for any beauty contest she had ever entered. An equally quick gaze into her eyes, however, gave Anleth the distinct impression that, although she was obviously alive and well, somebody else was driving.
"So, like, you're the ones Rensat was talking about?" Elyssa burst out when seeing Anleth and Mioralynthia in the temple's own council chamber. "Oh my gosh, this is so awesome! You must be Lynsey--I hope we're really gonna get along!" She wrapped her arms around Mioralynthia and squeezed her for a good hug.
Mioralynthia held perfectly still, one arm gently raised in a vain attempt to stop the physical assault, and silently rolled her eyes to Anleth. Was this woman for real?
"And you're, like, that guard woman, right?"
"Captain Anleth, at your--" Anleth had made the clever move to salute in a very hug-obstructive manner, but that only made the big, loving squeeze all the more uncomfortable for her. "...service."
"I just love people in uniform. They're, like, totally hot and everything. Can I get one of those suits for my parties?"
"Can you--?" Anleth stood baffled for an instant. "My lady, the Temple Guard uniform, that of its officers in particular, requires dedicated honours and privileges--"
"--and is currently out of stock, I'm sorry to say," Mioralynthia intervened with a meaningful glance at Anleth.
"Really? That's too bad. But that's okay," she smiled and looked back at Anleth.
"When would you like to leave?" Mioralynthia attempted to speed everyone through this.
"I was thinking tomorrow but, like, not too early or anything. Two, maybe three o'clock?"
"You're joking, right?" Anleth tried to sound as diplomatic as possible under the circumstances. "We can't set up an entire expedition in twenty-four hours."
"Well, that's annoying. Maybe my dad can help? You know my dad, right? He, like, owns half this city or something like that. Oh yeah, he said that, if things didn't really go my way, he was gonna visit you two and, like, sort stuff out or something. He was, like, really hung on this full cooperation thing."
"Does four in the afternoon sound manageable?" Anleth offered.
"Yeah, maybe four's better. I don't wanna get up early."
"Medical supplies. Who's taking care of medical supplies?" Mioralynthia's eyes skipped around busily while tapping her pencil on the list. Someone barely avoided her while dashing past, holding all sorts of rations in his arms.
"Medicals? I can do the medical equipment." Anleth asked, catching her breath. She had been running around a lot over the last night and morning. "Anything else?"
"Weapons, we need weapons and--"
"What is that?" Anleth pointed behind Mioralynthia.
"That," she replied without even looking, "are Lady Elyssa's personal effects: clothes, food, cosmetics, or so I'm told; I haven't had the time to check."
"How much clothes can you have? We just packed a cartful." Anleth took a deep, calming breath in her hands, and stood perfectly still for a moment. "I'm on medicals."
"Rations, rations..." Mioralynthia checked the list again. "Captain, is your lieutenant back from the general stores yet with rations?"
"Yes, but she was hit by a chariot before she made it in."
"Are the supplies unharmed?"
"They are, but she's out, and everyone else is committed. I've nobody left."
"For the love of-- Okay, go, I'll figure something out--" Mioralynthia hadn't the time to finish that phrase before a guard stormed into the corridor with an alarmed expression on his face. "Ma'ams, one of the carts just lost a wheel, and the crash spooked the horses."
"Ooh, I feel a killer migraine coming," Mioralynthia muttered.
"Right then," a cheery voice suddenly called out. "Who's up for fun and skiing?"
The sorceress looked up sharply at the source of the sound, and found a man with two suitcases in his hands, thick, white clothing on his person, a pair of skis on his back, and a wide, friendly smile on his lips.
"Tarbo! Lord, you're a life saver!" Mioralynthia almost threw herself at him but, instead of herself, pushed her checklist in his arms, causing him to drop his suitcases on the floor. "There are rations in the front hall; they need to be loaded onto the carts. When you're done with that, go to the infirmary and help Anleth with the medical supplies."
"You know, ah," Tarbo replied, startled. "If this is a bad time, it can wait until tomorrow."
"No, we need to leave at four, sharp. You fix things, right? Go fix!" Mioralynthia turned him around and nudged in his back. "I'll meet you out front."
Tarbo's job description defied actual description. Officially, he was a trainer at the Temple, based somewhere in the south of Naggaroth. Unofficially, he 'fixed' things and usually, when he was about, something (or someone) needed fixing.
"Right, ah, right," he said, going in the general direction he was nudged. "I'll get on that."
Trees lined the untrodden road to Redoris, the expedition's destination. More snow was gently twirling down, tiny, beautiful crystal settling on clothes and in hair. The long column marched on diligently, interspersed by horse wagons and carts.
"Mistress," Anleth addressed Mioralynthia, "what is Redoris?"
Mioralynthia looked at Anleth for a moment, realising she was too young to know the settlement, then realised her own knowledge on the matter was limited. "I know it was a settlement founded centuries ago in the very north of Naggaroth, but caught misfortune and was ultimately abandoned. It's been a ghost town ever since."
"Redoris?" Tarbo picked up. "Now there's a story to share around a campfire."
"You know it?" Anleth asked, glancing at Mioralynthia for her reaction, and she was just as curious to hear.
"Oh yes, I know Redoris," he replied, and took a deep breath to prepare for a long story. "Centuries ago, the Temple decided to honour Khaine by erecting a massive cathedral temple in his name on a site in the north of Naggaroth. As the works continued, more workers came and began to settle near the construction site. This ultimately founded Redoris.
"Though small in size and numbers, Redoris prospered fairly quickly, and managed to make a living for itself in trade and farming and, of course, pilgrimage. But in the end, the Temple lost interest in the construction and reduced funding whenever they needed money elsewhere. Redoris remained a small anecdote in history.
"Until one day, an elderly elf came to the village. His name was Daynarii, and he claimed to be sent by the Temple to oversee the finishing of construction of their village's centerpiece. Backed by an inexhaustable flow of money, Daynarii succeeded in finishing the upper level and even building an entirely underground catacomb.
"But the villagers grew wary. While usually Chaos storms from the north would ebb and flow, near and far, they continuously came ever closer, and they lasted longer and became more powerful. In the thick of night, during the closest storms, sightings of undead horrors were made at the outskirts of town. Villagers starting leaving Redoris for more southerly located cities, far away from the storms.
"Alarmed by reports of the undead brought in by fleeing villagers, the Temple wavered at first. When villagers described Daynarii, they realised something had happened under their very nose: a male sorcerer had turned what should have been a temple in the honour of Khaine, into a necromantic stronghold. Finally, the Temple acted: they sent in their best and finest champions, holy men and women, veteran warriors, sorceresses, to find and defeat Daynarii. A famous paladin called Adrianna led the expedition.
"When the expedition arrived in Redoris, a Chaos storm was raging overtop. There was no sign of the villagers, no sign of life. The expedition entered the temple and its catacombs under the fierce storm. For days, no-one left while the storm raged on, but finally, Adrianna emerged. She had been wounded, her entire expedition killed, but she defeated and killed Daynarii."
Anleth nodded, taking the story in. "But Redoris never recovered."
"Few people ever set foot in Redoris again," Tarbo added. "Or that's the legend, anyway."
"There's usually some truth to a legend," Mioralynthia raised. "It could be useful, it could not be. It's a good story either way. Anything else we need to know?"
Tarbo chuckled. "No, because there are no hotels and no decent mountains near Redoris, so legends is all I can give you."
Anleth glanced at the pair of skis on Tarbo's back, then aimed her eyes at Mioralynthia. Who was going to break news?
"Tarbo," Mioralynthia started, "I really hate to tell you this, but... we're not going skiing."
"What? No no no, you're not going skiing; I'm definitely going skiing."
"It took years for me to get a vacation that wasn't work-related. Do you see these skis? Composite ebony. Doesn't bend, doesn't break, perfect handling for tight corners. People start wars for skis like this. So, mark my words. I am going skiing."
"Hm, what's the holdup?" Anleth wondered out loud, breaking the conversation. The column had halted, and one of the soldiers came hurrying to them.
"Captain," he wheezed when he arrived after the jog. "One of the carts buckled under the weight. We're redistributing over the other wagons, but there's a big chest of Lady Elyssa's that we can't load onto any of them."
Anleth brushed a hand through her hair. "I suppose it's too big to carry?" The soldier nodded. "How are we going to move that chest?"
Slowly, Anleth's eyes rolled back to Tarbo's skis. Soon, Mioralynthia's eyes followed, and even the soldier's.
"Oh? Oh, no." Tarbo chuckled and shook his head. "I killed for these, and you know I'm not kidding."
"Come on, Tarbo," Mioralynthia tried. "Help us out, here."
"Lynthia, there's not a thing in the world you can say that will convince me to hand over these skis."
Tarbo watched from a distance while he saw his skis being tied underneath the heavy, round-topped, red-and-gold chest. Sturdy ropes secured the load to the finely shaped wooden planks underneath, carefully balancing the weight across for maximal sliding and minimal chances of accidentally breaking them.
"Don't worry," Mioralynthia assured him. "You'll get them back."
"And yet, I can't stop looking at them, because I get this funny feeling that this is the last time I'm going to see them."
"I told them to be extra careful with them, and they promised me they would take every precaution. The lieutenant there is an avid ski-er, himself."
"Oh, have you met Lady Elyssa Salth yet?" Anleth raised in an effort to get his mind off his skis.
"No, I haven't."
"How about we take you to her, so you can meet her for yourself?"
"So you, like, were totally on those other expeditions as well?" Elyssa was thrilled to be surrounded by that much experience. "That's so awesome! This trip is gonna be so cool."
"Yeah, ah..." Tarbo wasn't entirely sure how to react to that. "So tell me, how did you end up in this treasure hunt?"
"Me? Oh, I hear about these raids and artifact hunts and all in, like, Lustria and everything, and I was all like: d'uh, I could totally do that! You know what I mean? So I asked my dad--you know my dad?--anyway, so I, like, asked him if I could go, and he said: yeah, go ahead, I'll fund the whole thing. So I went over to this Rensat woman--she's really nice--and she and my dad talked, and then she told me to go to the temple and that she would, like, sort everything out, you know?"
"Ehhuh." Tarbo focused his eyes back on Elyssa's. "Hm? I'm listening."
"So, like, I heard there were these ancient artifacts in some crazy temple in Red Doris or something?"
"Whatever, like, nobody lives there and everything, so why does it have a name, anyway?"
Tarbo's spider senses tingled. He looked over his shoulder at the hill they had passed a minute ago, and saw several soldiers pulling frantically on something... the chest his skis were on.
"My gosh, is that my chest?" Elyssa guessed. "Looks heavy."
Tarbo replied with little more than a simple 'ehhuh'. In the distance, he could see the red-and-gold chest appear from the top of the hill. One of the soldiers slipped and rolled off the hill, while the others tried frantically to hold onto the heavy weight. The chest slid off the hill, picking up speed while one brave lieutenant held onto the rope in a vain attempt to stop it, plowing through and eating snow. Soaring through the column, the dangerous, high-speed object perfectly followed every corner, every tiny bump in the terrain, and ultimately lost the pesky lieutenant holding onto it.
With a elongated, graceful curve, the chest tore across the column, knocking two elves off their feet, then vigorously launched itself off the nearest cliff. It sailed courageously through the air, windily trodding its colours and banners in Tarbo's eyes before slowly picking up vertical velocity and disappearing behind the cliffy horizon, silently plummeting into the depths.
A deep, solemn silence followed from the head of the column. The attentive soul could hear a very distant crash.
"Were those, like, skis?"
"Yes," Tarbo croaked.
"They followed every curve, and they, like, went along perfectly with the bumps and everything, and then that corner. Those were, like, really awesome skis."
"Yes," rose from Tarbo's voice.
"Wow. Totally sucks to have owned those."
Mioralynthia placed a hand on Tarbo's shoulder and squeezed sympathetically while he lifelessly stared ahead of himself.
A low, uneven breeze pulled over the snowy ground while the upper wind howled hauntingly. Thick, dark clouds covered the skies and blocked out the setting sun. A door squeaked in the wind, its noise amplified by the deathly silence. A shutter hung from the window, attached by only one hinge, as if it had hung thus for centuries.
Anleth looked about carefully, as if expecting the entire population of Redoris to rise from their homes and attack them as intruders. She wasn't sure what to expect, so she kept low, cautiously low, her hand near her sword while inspecting the surroundings. As ghost towns went, this abandoned settlement accurately fit the bill.
"A storm's coming." Mioralynthia was staring at the skies to the north where, very occasionally, a red flash could be seen.
"I didn't know these storms came this far south," Anleth said as much as asked the sorceress. "Any chance it might pass us?"
Mioralynthia gently pressed her lips and shook her head. "Doubtful. I have the impression it is coming right for us."
"How long?" Tarbo asked, trying to judge the distance for himself.
"Two hours, maybe three?"
"Alright, we should find shelter somewhere. We don't want to be caught outside in a Chaos storm."
"Sir, didn't the legend mention catacombs underneath the temple?" Anleth raised.
Tarbo nodded, catching on with the idea, then looked at Mioralynthia. "What do you think? Is that good enough shelter?"
"Probably. In any case, it should lessen the impact enough for us to weather the storm."
Anleth looked at the temple structure and immediately understood why it was the center structure. Its massive, towering spires loomed in the thunderous skies, its damaged superstructure giving it a disheveled, ancient, and menacing look. She hoped the catacombs would still be alright.
It was becoming dark rapidly and, around the elves, the storm was nearing, the occasional flash lighting the temple more than the torches did. The roof of the temple had suffered irreparable damage, probably from lightning strikes, and large holes, yards wide, yawned to the rumbling skies.
Around and inside the temple, elves were searching for ways to access the catacombs. A few groups were sent out in the town itself, looking for structures strong enough to weather the storm should the catacombs exist only in the legends of Redoris. Time was running short; the storm approached.
"Is that, like, a Chaos storm?" Elyssa asked Mioralynthia when she joined her looking out one of the shattered windows, its beautiful glass scattered over the floor and covered under patches of snow and dust.
"It is," Mioralynthia answered, keeping her eyes on it.
"Storms are, like, so awesome! Like once, I--"
"Chaos storms are not awesome, they are lethal," the sorceress cut her short. "We would be wise to find cover."
"Really? What are they like?"
"Chaos storms are almost clouds of Chaos energy, microscopically small pieces of warpstone flying in the air, channeling energy and striking haphazardly. In the most powerful of storms, demons are said to travel, crossing over from their hellish dimensions in the power unleashed by the lightning strikes." She took a deep breath, narrowing her eyes while the distant, red flashes reflected in them. "So believe me when I say we wish to avoid direct exposure to them."
"Hey, over here!" two soldiers suddenly shouted. "We found something!"
The massive slate moved aside under the enduring effort of several soldiers, revealing a long, level stairway descending into the depths of the temple. It was dark inside, and a cold draft pulled from the now open entrance.
"I'm not sure we can take along the horses," Tarbo raised, sizing the animals up with his eyes. "But we can't leave them out here. At best, they'll die horribly, and at worst they'll grow teeth and spikes and burn us to cinders with fire breath."
Anleth skipped her eyes at Tarbo. She had never really had a close encounter with Chaos yet, and she wanted to make sure he wasn't joking. She regretted that he wasn't. As officer, she joined her guards on their way down the stairs.
Their steps echoed hollowly in the substructure. While not spacious, the corridors weren't entirely cramped either. The walls and ceiling looked sturdy enough, and since they had survived all these storms through the centuries, they would suffice for this one. She looked up the relative light at the top of the stairway and beckoned for everyone else to come down in an orderly fashion.
"Not a moment too soon," Mioralynthia mentioned, clutching her overrobe a little tighter when she heard the thunder nearing. Soldiers hurried to bring the necessary supplies, in priority, down the stairs, ready to leave behind what must if the storm came too close. They weren't taking any chances.
"I've never been in a catacomb before," Elyssa mentioned. "Do they, like, bury dead people here?"
"Ehhuh," Tarbo replied, keeping his eyes on his surroundings, and using his torch to light the way. "And not just dead people."
"What? You mean they buried, like, not-dead people here, too?"
Tarbo just cocked his head a little, not really answering that question, and focused on the corridors they were walking through.
Anleth looked up when she heard a far but solid boom over her head. Lightning had struck the temple not too far above their heads, and it made her wish they had already found a deeper location.
The dusty stones reflected golden torchlight upon the midnight blue hue they inherently had. The dust on the floor muffled the steps of the others around them, filling the corridors with ambient noise but allowing them to hear nonetheless. Anleth wasn't really expecting something, but if Mioralynthia was right--and when wasn't she right?--demons could ride on those lightning bolts... and perhaps down to this level. She looked back at the sorceress and found her... restless.
"Mistress," she asked in almost a whisper. "Are you alright?"
Mioralynthia didn't really answer that, her eyes skipping about, her brows gently frowned. She was focused, not on her sight or eyes, but on her magical senses, and something was alarming her. "No," she finally admitted, equally silent. "No, something is amiss."
Ahead of her, a soldier turned his head to the wall for a while, as if admiring the flat reflections, then stopped and slowly turned his head to the two women, a grin on his lips and a distinctive glint in his eyes. Anleth frowned and looked back for a while, then noticed Mioralynthia's transfixed stare on the soldier.
Suddenly, the soldier swung his left arm at them, and a bolt of white and blue erupted from his fingertips with intense crackling. Instantly, Mioralynthia deflected the assault onto the wall next to them, disintegrating several bricks and bursting gravel and dirt into the corridor.
"Guards!" Anleth shouted with full lungs, not even bothering to beat the dust and debris off her. "Capture him!"
Instantly, the soldier swung his other arm and hurled another crackling bolt of deadly energy at them. Luckily for Anleth, Mioralynthia was prepared for the worst, and the searing crackles ricocheted off an invisible shield to land against the other wall.
Destruction and chaos broke loose. Bolts and streams of energy blew large chunks out of the walls and floor, throwing back any elves making an attempt to capture their former comrade. Mioralynthia responded in kind, focusing on deflection and absorption in hopes of staving off casualties, but she was visibly having trouble doing so.
"Capture him if you can," Anleth clarified as she ran at him. "Kill him if you must!"
The sorcerous soldier's eyes started to glow a menacing yellow, his body lifting itself off the ground while more energy flew from his fingertips. "Then kill me again, you must! You will never capture Daynarii, not in life and not in death!"
Anleth hastily parried a sudden lightning strike on her sword, flinging it from her hands and throwing her unto the floor. She would not be so lucky again.
Suddenly, a dagger soared past Mioralynthia's ear and landed squarely in the chest of the sorceror ahead of them. He plummeted to the floor, not even screaming in surprise or pain, but tried to clamber back on his feet.
"Now!" Anleth shouted. "Immobilise him!" She immediately followed her own orders and threw herself onto the sorceror, holding down one of his arms while fellow guards piled on him. "Hold him down! Mistress, quickly!"
Upon call, Mioralynthia hurried over to the sorceror and looked him over quickly. She had to act quickly, think quickly... She placed one hand on the sorceror's chest, snatched Anleth's amulet with the other, and started channeling energy. Anleth could feel raw magical energy running past her body, over her clothes and skin, as she lay against two sorcerous creatures.
A sudden flash erupted, blinding her momentarily, heat almost burning her. When she regained sight, she noticed she wasn't holding an arm anymore, but a charred skeleton. Burnt flesh stuck onto her clothes and hair, the stench pervading the small area they had occupied. "Ugh," she said, raising a hand to her nose.
Mioralynthia let go of the now incinerated chest and of Anleth's amulet. She took her dagger from the remains and sheathed it. "Nice throw," she complimented Tarbo.
"Nice fatality," he replied, visibly impressed, and helped Anleth on her feet. "What was wrong with him, anyway?"
"Not a fatality," Mioralynthia countered. "An exorcism."
"Well, I hate to get scholarly on you, Lynthia, but he looks really dead to me."
"Because that's all the choice he left me. And he's not dead."
Tarbo scratched his head and stared at the charred remains. "We agree to disagree, then."
"That's not who I'm talking about."
"If he's not destroyed," Anleth cleared the linguistic confusion, "then where is he?"
Mioralynthia slowly looked over her shoulder at the soldiers running at them to help out and clear the remains. "Hiding." She took a deep breath. "Running."
Suddenly, she raised her head, as if jolted into action, then looked down one of the corridors. "There, that room! Don't let anybody in or out!"
"Why? What's going on?"
"Daynarii is somewhere in that room. I felt a spike of energy."
It is dark in the catacombs, too dark to the liking of most, but at least there are plenty of torches to go around. You hate to think how you will have to manage once those run out. A distant rumbling passes far overhead, a storm that has no intention of leaving anytime soon, like a hunter waiting for its prey to come out into the open.
You've been cordoned in this room for what are minutes but seem like hours. Mioralynthia felt a spike of energy emanating from this room and, suspecting that Daynarii has attempted to take over another body, has requested the area be cordoned. And you happened to be in that room when it happened.
The floor is dry and dusty, the stones uneven, etchings and engravings vagued with age. You are gathered in one of the larger chambers, with empty sarcophaguses nearby. Or, at least, you believe them empty since nameless; you haven't really bothered to check.
"Ladies, gentlemen," Anleth greets you as she approaches, beckoning you to have a seat... anywhere. She stays standing as she makes her announcement.
"As you undoubtedly know, Daynarii, the necromancer of legend, is not destroyed. He was defeated, he was killed in combat by Adrianna, but his spirit and powers survived in this tomb. Apparently, Daynarii also wields the power to possess or corrupt individuals, taking along what sorcerous powers he has."
In one of you, she must mean. You look about yourself at your fated fellows. Some you now see for the first time, some you have met cursorily, and some you may have known your entire life.
"In his weakened state, we cannot accurately sense Daynarii. Mistress Mioralynthia sensed him somewhere in this chamber, but she cannot detect exactly where... or whom in. She does believe she can exorcise him; however, there is a complication. Exorcising a 'pure' soul causes a violent feedback that will temporarily knock her out and may, ah, cause fatality in the subject.
"We've deliberated to do this by number. Each and every one of you will have to be checked extensively and subjected to exorcism until we find Daynarii. But we believe it's only fair that, since it are your lives at stake, you get to decide the order. By majority vote."
And so begins this strange time, where you must vote for one of your comrades to save yourself. Daynarii will lay low, probably influencing the order, forestalling the exorcism until he can build sufficient power. The stakes? Your life.
The activity deadline is set to pass on Thursday, 19h00 GMT. You should have posted at least once before this deadline passes. Also note that, although you can vote, nobody can get executed/exorcised before the activity deadline passes.
Good luck, and good hunting.
[Edit] Believe it or not, but I actually forgot a (tiny) part in the story, a phrase at the very start.
|Author:||Shadow dark [ Mon Mar 16, 2009 8:04 pm ]|
From the corner of the chamber stepped forward an elf. He had a shock of white hair, unusually short for an elf, and bland, unmemorable features. However, the most striking thing about him was his enormous size. He stood head and shoulders above the majority of the elves in the chamber. Over one shoulder was slung an enormous greatsword, which most elves would have struggled to lift, but which seemed to present him with no trouble. On a chain around his neck, hung an image of one of the aspects of Khaine, made from iron.
'My name is Khadarel Darkshadow. I am one of our Lord Khaines disciples. And I am happy to say that I am not the weak fool who cannot fight off an intrusion from one mouldy old ghost.' He smiled cynically. 'Not that I expect any of you to believe me. But should I be taken away, at least I can have the pleasure of my last words being I told you so.'
This said, Khadarel sat down, to listen to the introductions of his fellow suspects.
|Author:||Zardock [ Mon Mar 16, 2009 8:08 pm ]|
Zardock could not believe that this simple expedition had crashed and burned already... To think that he had joined for the mere rush of finding treasure when he should be back on his ship preparing for the next raiding season...
Wrapping his Sea Dragon Cloak around his frame he prepared to speak.
"Are you sure this Daynarii is even in the room, I'd say that perhaps your mistress is the one possessed, it's an equal a chance as any, she may be trying to kill off this entire expedition."
"I am Zardock, captain of the Doombringer, most feared ship in the eastern waters. I am no Sorcerous scum"
Glancing around the room Zardock could recognise a few friends amongst the crowd, most of them however were strangers or people he may have fought back to back with on some distant battlefield in Malekith's great campaigns.
"I guess the only solution is to vote isn't it *sigh*, let every elf speak his mind and then we shall vote, let us weed out this sorcerous worm and get back to civilisation. I have stated my opinion, that it cannot just be us within this room, that sorceress or her lackey could very well be Daynarii aswell."
Zardock sat back down and leant against the side of a sarcophagus, he waits for the remainder of this sorry bunch to state their opinions.
Settling down, the look of contempt towards Anleth plain on his face, he prepares to listen to his fellows as the next in the group rises...
|Author:||Kinslayer [ Mon Mar 16, 2009 9:58 pm ]|
From a darkened spot between two sarcophagi, where he had been silently watching the girl speak and the others sit, stepped Kinslayer. He was dressed in brown tattered robes and carried with him his two trademark weapons. Across his back was slung a large crossbow, and he rested his palms on the hilt of his hunting axe, its metal head tocuhing the cool stone floor of the catacomb chamber.
"The name is Kinslayer, you can guess how I got it. I ain't no possesee for some daemon, I'm just a hunter from the darker parts of the woods."
He paused, as if thinking...
"If I was a daemon-thing, I would want to look like i fitted in, as to avoid the vote. So I say we vote for the most unsuspicious one amongst us, eh? That's hunters logic, that is! Won't get that nowhere else, I can tell you."
|Author:||Deroth [ Tue Mar 17, 2009 12:51 am ]|
On top of one of the sarcophagi sat a tall slim elf wrapped up in his dark cloak. Setting aside his spear but keeping a hand firmly on his crossbow he stood up and jumped down off the sarcopagus with the grace of one born to the saddle.
Looking out from under his hood he studied those around him and he spoke, "I suggest we work together and find this.. this "Thing" quickly before we are all overwelmed. I'm NOT going to sit idle while this evil picks us off one by one."
Leaning back against the sarcopagus and picking up his spear, holding it closely, he disappeared back into the shadows in a way that only the hill tribe shades and those of his dark rider kin could, Eyes ever watching for a threat.
|Author:||Belial [ Tue Mar 17, 2009 4:05 am ]|
"But Brother, you forgot to mention your name..."
the slightly mocking voice belonged to a savage looking elf, lying back on the lid on a sarchophagus. Muscular build, and a bit below average height for an elf, he had a repeater crossbow pistol in one hand, and a slightly curved sword nestled in the belt, that was hanging from torchholder in the pillar next to the sarcophagus. Clearly, this one was of the hill clans, this one was a Shade.
"Now I... I'm Belial. I'm here for the spoils, and I won't let some random daemon interfere with that..."
He sat up, swinging his legs down to one side to face the others. Brushing a lock of his black, relatively short, unkempt hair away from his eyes, he grinned, conveying both humour and menace in the gesture.
"Pleased to make your acquintance."
|Author:||Kefka [ Tue Mar 17, 2009 7:02 am ]|
In the middle of the crows sat Tempis. Tempis was a smaller elf, thin and stringy, hardly looked warrior material. Yet he had gained rank through Anleths Temple Guard, as could be seen by the ornate pair of short swords he sitting on each waist. He listened well to introductions of the other warriors so far, gathering what information he could to try and discern this situation. If someone were to pay close attention to Tempis, they would realize he stood more as a clever tactician then a warrior.
Tempis was quiet, he kept to himself, but pulled his hood off of his short, dark blond hair. Some dust from the stone walls tickled their way into his lungs and he could not help but cough loudly, his loud reaction to the dust reverberated off the walls of the stone catacomb, and served to echo his social mishap.
All heads turned to Tempis, as he removed his hand from his mouth, he looked around and felt nothing but embarrassment.
"Well, um, since I have your attention, I guess I should introduce myself." He took a short bow, but when he straightened he still kept his head down. "I am Tempis Southwind. I am employed by my lady Anleth and humbly rank high among her sergeants. I came here, because, well, it was my ladies orders and I am employed to do so."
He looked around the room, eyes still stabbing at him, he felt that he must add more, that they were looking for something.
"Um, well, as per the situation, I disagree with the hunter, Kinslayer. From what we saw in the catacombs a few moments ago, the posesee certainly did not blend in with the everyone else. He attacked as soon as he felt he had the chance." The small elf looked to Kinslayer and quaked a little before regaining his composure. "I do not accuse you, um... sir Kinslayer, but I am merely iterating that the posesee could be anyone one of us. This.... Thing of Chaos has been here for centuries, if the legends are true, and is probably not un-intelligent. Plotting for years, he... it... would have more clever tactics to keep us all guessing. And he would certainly try to confuse us. I am merely trying to keep every one informed of this, to keep their options open and keep everyone in mind when deciding on a suspect, not just a certain group or individual." He thought for a moment before finishing. "Even if that vote is too be cast towards me, as I just realized that I am counter-arguing with one of you already, and thus adding suspicion upon me and possibly confusion among you all, but that was not-"
He cut himself short, his sentences were starting to get flustered and he turned bright red. "I am sorry, I go on too much sometimes. Sorry... Just, try to remember what I said,and,um,try not to get confused..."
With that he pulled his hood over his head again and bowed lightly.
|Author:||Zzug [ Tue Mar 17, 2009 7:34 am ]|
A female laugh boomed after hearing Tempis.
"Hahaha,such a timid yet over spoken boy you are..." She said as she made herself present. "You talk far too much but are still so quiet, I don't know how you earned those ranks of yours, kid."
She was tall and older, for a Druchi. She wore a long jacket, covering her down to just below the knees, where nothing but large boots could be seen, going up, under the coat.
"I am Senestra. I am here, like many others are, because I am a soldier and I am ordered too. So let us get this... distraction out of our way and continue on our way.And try not too kill to many innocents on our way, I do hate unnecessary death..."
|Author:||Zardock [ Tue Mar 17, 2009 9:44 am ]|
Zardock could not believe his ears there were agents of that sorceress even in this group of suspects.
"Rather odd, that you would manage to discern so much in such a short time for a whelp, you look like you've barely past your first century and haven't proven your worth on the battlefield...
The fact that you are expecting to be voted off is odd indeed, Noble Kinslayer, I respect your hunter's logic but must disagree, this daemon-thing has been locked down here to long to know what 'fitting in' is and though the whelp also made this point, we should be looking for those who do fit in well with our social....etiquette."
As more of the group introduced themselves, Zardock was getting a feel for the group and he knew that several of them would be excellent allies to support further raiding ventures if he ever got out of this blasted catacomb...
His brief interruption was soon interrupted as another elf butted in...
|Author:||Deroth [ Tue Mar 17, 2009 10:03 am ]|
Deroth muttered quietly to himself before standing quickly to interupt, "Zardock only fools underestimate those around them, If he managed to get his hands on those swords marking him out as a temple guard of rank I think he has some skills that you would be wise not to ignore."
"I can see you are not a fool from your other observations but foolish words cause problems where no additional problems are needed, besides I think you and I can benefit much from each other if we get out of here alive."
|Author:||Sleekdd [ Tue Mar 17, 2009 12:29 pm ]|
“Well then, I suppose it is my turn to introduce myself,” Sleek says while he washes his left hand through his white hair to clear his face.
He is dressed for travel with a relatively light but sturdy leather armour and a long sword strapped to his back. His civilian clothes are likewise chosen for durability: leather pants, sturdy boots and gloves.
“I am Sleek and much like you, drafted on short notice to go treasure-hunting. Now we are forced to hunt one of our own.”
“As to the fitting in, I would not be so convinced that years, decades and centuries of entrapment in a dusty, abandoned catacomb is a good way of honing your skill to 'fit in',” Sleek interjects, “Still, it is in his best interest to avoid suspicion if he wants to survive. And it is our task to stir the others to make him stand out.”
“As things stand, we are facing a daunting task,” Sleek continues, “Of the fifteen people gathered here, we seek one culprit. If you count yourself innocent the odds are one in fourteen. And still, despite these odds, we have to act lest we all become the victim of his ploys or the sorceresses attempts of rooting him out.”
“I would ask all of you to speak up, for silence makes it easier to hide.”
|Author:||Telrunya [ Tue Mar 17, 2009 12:58 pm ]|
Near one of the torches stood an elf adorned in dark blue studded leather armour. An embellished baldric, swung over his right shoulder, held a scabbard and a longsword. His long white hair tied loosely together.
"Finally," he spoke, "this expedition gives a chance for heroics. A chance for us to match Adrianne's legendary deed of destroying Daynarii, and add fame to our houses.
"I am Telrunya and, as my brother Sleek, I am from the house Saraganth." Although the insignia of his house were clearly visible on his baldric, he showed the ring on his left hand while introducing himself.
"I should probably wait until everyone has had the chance to speak up and at least introduce themselves, but I would like to take a few seconds to say I believe Zardock has a valuable point in doubting Mioralynthia's allegiance.
"However," he continued, "I fail to see how attempting to draw suspicion to even more people, including perhaps the only person here who may counter Daynarii, is in any way not counterproductive.
"Let's keep the suspicion where it will actually help our cause."
|Author:||Kinslayer [ Tue Mar 17, 2009 2:17 pm ]|
"And who are you to say who is and who is not a suspect" shot Kinslayer to Telrunya, then turned back to Zardock, "Perhaps this.... this thing has been here too long to know what fitting in is, but I am no seer, and everyone here looks normal to me. I live in the forests, killing bears and nauglir for a living... what exactly should we be looking for here?"
Then he paused to think again,
"And in case you are the posesee, it is best that my last question goes out to everyone."
|Author:||Shadow dark [ Tue Mar 17, 2009 6:37 pm ]|
'Questioning is a good idea.' Khadarel interjected, 'But I do believe that some members of our esteemed company have not yet deemed it time for them to introduce themselves. Bad manners, probably. However, if those mighty and distinguished persons would deign to talk to us mere mortals, and at least let us know their names, I would be ever so grateful.'
As Khadarel concluded his sarcastic monologue, he rolled his eyes, before reaching for the wineskin dangling from his belt.
|Author:||Zardock [ Tue Mar 17, 2009 7:31 pm ]|
"Telrunya, you are right, I spoke rashly when we should be focusing on those within this room..."
Zardock paused and turned to Deroth, who so recently had proposed an alliance in passing, pushing his dark hair back into a ponytail Zardock stood up to his full height for the first time. Though only medium in build the notched armour, sea dragon cloak and massive scitimar marked him as a veteran of many slaving campaigns.
"There is more than one way to gain rank within any institution my friend, but I digress, I too think that those among us who have not spoken would help the effort by so kindly stepping into the open."
Zardock crouched back down but all could tell that he was poised to strike at the first sign of trouble, his hands never straying to far from his belt which contained his pistols... hopefully this could be resolved quickly and without killing any fellow druchii.
Suddenly remembering the hunter, Kinslayer's, remarks Zardock looked up suddenly and with a shocked expression spoke aloud his thoughts.
"I just thought of something, if it is some spirit that can possess us at will, whats to stop it from switching bodies?, Kinslayer you asked what we should do, perhaps as hunters we should wait for a short period of time until the prey makes a mistake that we can all benefit from?"
And with that Zardock withdrew into his silent observation of the shadowy corner in which the remaining members of the 'suspects', and most likely Daynarii, lurked.
|Author:||Drainial [ Tue Mar 17, 2009 8:23 pm ]|
" Khaine, great lord of all, lend me strength in this most trying time that I might aid in the final vanquish your foes, for my soul is yours. My body is yours. My heart is yours."
Kilia climbed to her feet, prayers completed for the moment. Throwing back the hood of her plain white robe she unveild a shatterd beauty, the smooth curve of her perfect cheeks mared by the sigils of Khaine carved with an expert hand. Such marks of devotion would never close but instead weep blood for all time. The front of her robe was stained with red tears.
"This was most unexpected, that such an abomonation may exist within the walls of this most holy of places greives me beyond all measure. Better that all should die than it survives; but we are not yet come to that."
Stalking over to one great sepulchre Kalia retreved her long bladed daggers and belted them around her waist.
"I am but a simple pilgrim, Kilia I am called."
Turning to her suposed fellow disiple she continued
"I resent your tirade, brother, the great lord comes before any mortal concerns and we have not yet been siting any great while. Patience is our friend here, so long as it does not become hesitation, the child of doubt. Once all have spoken Khadarel, then we may start to deliberate in earnest, to do so before hand smacks of impatience, as great a sin as hesitation in this place."
|Author:||Tich [ Tue Mar 17, 2009 10:09 pm ]|
Demendred leaned up against a wall and watched the proceedings. To an observer he would stand out being an albino and all but other than that he was quite unremarkable in appearence. As he watched the others speak, some already desplaying an incredible amount of paranoia over only some of the groups introduction of themselves.
Finally he stepped forward. "I am Demendred, I have been working in this field for some time, beofre that I was a shade of the Bel'orad clan, and I must agrree that questions is a good idea. For this spirit has been dead for ages, all we must do is ask questions of recent events that every good druchii would know the answer to, all except one who hs been dead during those times."
|Author:||Lordanubis [ Tue Mar 17, 2009 10:36 pm ]|
From where he’d been leaning against a wall, listening carefully to the conversation, an older Druchii chuckled quietly. His grey hair was cut short and he was only of average height for an elf.
“Do you really expect it to be so easy? Really? Then let’s do a quick round of twenty questions and then we can all go home for tea and cookies.”
He stood upright, dusting his simple black tunic off and smiling cheerfully around at the others.
“I mean, are you a Druchii or an Asur? Any true Druchii would be able to lie convincingly enough to pass any tests that we could ask even if the spirit is not somehow able to access the memories of its host.”
The Druchii shook his head mockingly.
“Pathetic. Anyway, I’m Zenobius. Bureaucrat and official in the service of the Witch King. I’ve been working in his name longer than some of you have been sucking down air.”
He nodded almost politely to Mioralynthia and Anleth.
“As to this idea of questioning, what a waste of time. And I for one am not eager to sit around waiting for someone to blast me with Chaos lightning or worse. No, we need to be proactive. We need to decide upon who is the most suspicious. Once they’ve been – heh – exorcised, we repeat the process until we’ve got this irritating spirit.”
“First day is always tricky. No clues as to who’s who. So, we might as well start at random but not yet. Once everyone’s introduced themselves, then we can get started, eh?”
|Author:||Kinslayer [ Tue Mar 17, 2009 11:19 pm ]|
"At random?" shot Kinslayer to this Zenobius. He hefted his huntsmans axe into a one handed grip and took a step forward,
"Leave the suspicious ones, dont question the rest, just kill at random? Sounds like the daemon talking to me." he stepped forward again,
"If you're keen to kill at random, I say we start with you."
|Author:||Lordanubis [ Tue Mar 17, 2009 11:38 pm ]|
"Feel free, if you can get a majority vote. I can't and won't stop you."
He held up a finger.
"Mind you, you'll be proving my point. At this moment, there is no way to tell which of us is this spirit. We have no evidence, and the only evidence worth anything here is what people say in this council. People haven't said much so therefore we have no evidence on which to base conclusions. Why, some haven't said anything yet."
Another finger was raised.
"As such, we can sit around like some treehugging Asrai waiting for someone to kill us, or we can do something productive. And doing something productive today means picking the first suspect at random. If we are ridiculously lucky, we might find it today. If not, we have one less suspect and any events between tonight and tomorrow morning might shed new light on other potential suspects."
Zenobius leant back against the wall and folded his arms, smiling at Kinslayer.
"Relax - there is only a 1 in 15 chance it would be you. Your violent reaction to the first person to suggest making progress does not inspire confidence in your innocence in my mind at least. But that is by the by. Be suspicious, yes. But not just because someone suggests that we might have to take a few risks."
|Author:||Zardock [ Wed Mar 18, 2009 6:20 am ]|
"I'm afraid he is right, the first target must be at random, with any of us having the possibility of being the Daemon-thing it is the only course of action."
Latching the Scitimar onto his belt once more, Zardock rose to stand in the centre of the room and addressed all within:
"So we come to this point right now, we trust noone and it will be the strength of our arguments that will sway the allegiances here tonight and the subsequent days in which we are trapped in this hell hole of a ruin. It's a vote at random you say and that questions would be pointless? Lucky that, seeing as I would be wondering why a paper pushing buerocrat would be digging around with us common elves for mere trinkets..."
"I digress though, and as I said I agree with you and drawing extra suspicions is not the case here, in fact if we are to randomly vote then who is to be the first target?"
Again the thought crossed Zardock's mind,
"Does anyone here have knowledge of spirits? Or daemons? Or for that matter the magical arts? Aside from our noble leader of course. I wonder again if this spirit can switch or as has been stated gain the memories of those that they have possessed?"
Shaking his head,
"I realise that that would have no hold on the random vote, but I would indeed like to get his out of the way before raiding season if we could, treasure hunting is turning into the worst choice of hobby ever."
Zardock remained standing in the centre of the room, looking at those directly in front of him, Zenobius and Kilia. There were all sorts of people in this room, if he was amongst familiar crewmen he could easily pick out a suspect but all these personalities and different backgrounds were going to make this task one massive head ache.
Turning away from the group, and heading back to his area of the room Zardock closed his eyes in a deep imitation of sleep but every elf in the room knew that a corsair, especially a captain could keep an ear out for anything...
|Author:||Sleekdd [ Wed Mar 18, 2009 1:05 pm ]|
“A random voting is probably the only way to proceed at the moment, as Zenobius (LordAnubis) mentioned,” Sleek agrees, “We have not enough to go on and we will never have any concrete evidence – there wouldn't be any need for voting in that case. Still, a random vote should not be completely random. I suggest we each make our list of people we tend to trust or suspect and try to reach a consensus on those. Call it...semi-random voting.”
“Now, before we can ferret out any would-be hand-puppet, we need to have an idea on how he would act in this room,” Sleek explains, “There are several approaches he can take and with it, hide in different groups of people. Yes, unless we catch him making a grievous mistake, we only narrow the list of suspects down, we don't get a guarantee.”
Sleek eyes the others in the room and take a deep breath.
“I will put forth my thoughts for the moment,” Sleek offers, “The culprit could be keeping his mouth shut to avoid attention, in which case we still have to look for Silas, Khel and Mel'Reyna. Nothing said means nothing said wrong after all.
He could also be trying to forge a feeling of trust. After all, there is strength in numbers, especially when everyone's vote weighs just as much as the next. By embedding himself on the good side of several others, he gains protection. Some among us have shown this behaviour already, such as Deroth. Whether this is for good or ill is anyone's guess obviously.
Lastly, there are those who would speak but say nothing. Little interventions to show you're alive but nothing that could possible be regarded as a commitment. Senestra (zzug) fits the bill here.”
“I have laid out my thoughts but will keep my vote for the moment and see what the others come up with.”
“Oh, Kilia (Drainial), the idea of Khaine's worship is to make others bleed. Just a pointer.”
|Author:||Shadow dark [ Wed Mar 18, 2009 1:09 pm ]|
'Kilia, my so called "tirade", is how I normally speak. I am a sarcastic, unpleasant individual, so deal with it. We do not all feel the need to mutilate ourselves to prove devotion. But what you have said, wrapped up in pretty phrases, is that we should sit and wait, but not too long. That may seem intelligent on an individual basis, but overall people will need to talk to begin to supply everyone with clues. Now excuse me for trying to minimise the number of people around me who will be put through a quite likely painful exorcism, and to remove the threat of this irritating ghost.'
As Khadarel finished his speech, he shook his head. Already some of this people where beginning to irritate him, although this was admittedly an easy task.
|Author:||Drainial [ Wed Mar 18, 2009 4:42 pm ]|
" The 'point' as you so crudely put it, is to ensure that Khaine's will is done upon the earth. Such scratches are merely outward symbols of inner devotion. But that matters little. Some of our company have not yet spoken and as I have said patiance can be stretched too far. If they do not speak soon then I feel suspition may have to fall on them, if they are not our enemy here then there silence makes them unhelpful at best."
|Author:||Kinslayer [ Wed Mar 18, 2009 6:54 pm ]|
After listening to Sleek talk his part, and ignoring those who commented after, Kinslayer came forward with a shrug,
"You see. Some of us seem suspicious. I did not hear my name mentioned though, am I correct? I stand by my earlier decision. Those who wish to go about killing off randomers should be the first to suffer from their ingenious plan."
Kinslayer is now resting on his axe again, having relaxed a little, but is still sharply aware.
|Page 1 of 7||All times are UTC|
|Powered by phpBB® Forum Software © phpBB Group