-
Welcome to rpgcodex.net, a site dedicated to discussing computer based role-playing games in a free and open fashion. We're less strict than other forums, but please refer to the rules.
"This message is awaiting moderator approval": All new users must pass through our moderation queue before they will be able to post normally. Until your account has "passed" your posts will only be visible to yourself (and moderators) until they are approved. Give us a week to get around to approving / deleting / ignoring your mundane opinion on crap before hassling us about it. Once you have passed the moderation period (think of it as a test), you will be able to post normally, just like all the other retards.
Myth: A New Age CYOA
- Thread starter Fangshi
- Start date
Fangshi
Arcane
- Joined
- Jan 9, 2014
- Messages
- 1,997
Current Tally:
Kz3r0 1.B 2.A 3.C 4.A
Zero Credibility 1.E>B 2.A>C 3.D>C 4.B>A
Nevill 1.F>A 2.A 3.C 4.E
Azira 1.F 2.A 3.A 4.A
asxetos 1.B 2.A 3.C 4.A
Smashing Axe 1.E>C>B>D>F 2.C>A 3.B 4.E
Jester 1.F 2.A 3.A 4.E
archaen 1.F>A 2.A 3.D 4.B
Grimgravy 1.B 2.C 3.A 4.B
Baltika9 1.A>F 2.A 3.A 4.E
1.
A) 2 votes
B) 2 votes
C)
D)
E) 2 votes
F) 4 votes
2.
A) 8 votes
B)
C) 2 votes
3.
A) 4 votes
B) 1 vote
C) 3 votes
D) 2 votes
4.
A) 3 votes
B) 3 votes
C)
D)
E) 4 votes
Kz3r0 1.B 2.A 3.C 4.A
Zero Credibility 1.E>B 2.A>C 3.D>C 4.B>A
Nevill 1.F>A 2.A 3.C 4.E
Azira 1.F 2.A 3.A 4.A
asxetos 1.B 2.A 3.C 4.A
Smashing Axe 1.E>C>B>D>F 2.C>A 3.B 4.E
Jester 1.F 2.A 3.A 4.E
archaen 1.F>A 2.A 3.D 4.B
Grimgravy 1.B 2.C 3.A 4.B
Baltika9 1.A>F 2.A 3.A 4.E
1.
A) 2 votes
B) 2 votes
C)
D)
E) 2 votes
F) 4 votes
2.
A) 8 votes
B)
C) 2 votes
3.
A) 4 votes
B) 1 vote
C) 3 votes
D) 2 votes
4.
A) 3 votes
B) 3 votes
C)
D)
E) 4 votes
Last edited:
Floppity (for first choice)!
Nevill
Arcane
- Joined
- Jun 6, 2009
- Messages
- 11,211
But that is what we chose him for.
Yes, he is being rude. Because we are lying in his face about important matters.
And really, Derryth is not one to talk about rudeness or bad temper, especially not when we barely avoided setting someone's house on fire in irritation.
We have much more in common with Mayer than with any other 'less shady' character that are or were Eberhardt supporters.
Hell, we are a grave robber and a prostitute with a company of two spider cultists, a necromancer, and a fucking Fallen Lord. We have no right to tell anyone they are shady!
Last edited:
Fangshi
Arcane
- Joined
- Jan 9, 2014
- Messages
- 1,997
So it has been a while since we checked in with the other members of your organization and the last interlude was fairly well received so I figured why not try another one. Last time it was Serpent and Christine. This time it it Gareth and Brigit who are doing a fairly good job running a mid sized mercenary company all things considered. So as promised, here you go:
Interlude 2: The Serpent's Maw
The moon hangs low in the sky. Round and full it illuminates the night casting deep shadows through the broken city.
No sane person would walk these streets at this hour. During the day the Emperor's soldiers patrol the city but at night, at night, Muirthemne belongs to the Dark and the desperate.
Cutthroats and cultists, madmen and monsters drift past one another in the night. It is the height of folly to interrupt them in their course, to do so is to invite death, madness, horror. Wise men stay in their homes but you can't earn coin that way.
Three cloaked figures huddle at the mouth of an alley. The first is a great mountain of a man with a face even his mother could not love. His is a broad, hard face with great azure eyes and a large crooked nose. He carefully scans the street in front of them. Next to him is a thin man, lean, with the look of a seasoned man of war. He has a certain eastern flavour to him, no doubt from the borderlands at the end of the empire. His eyes are thin and sharp, his black hair drawn back and knotted on top of his head. He grins as he fingers his blade. Their leader while less physically impressive than either of them carries himself with a confidence born of commanding men. He is still in the night, listening carefully as the other two whisper to one another. He is a man of business, a man of action and a man that rarely fails. Yet he seems the most nervous of the three or perhaps simply the most aware of the dangers they face. He leans around the corner and surveys their target with his lone eye.
Their target is a large brick and wood compound. It is unlit, its occupants mostly asleep for the night. On top of the front door is a carving of a great coiled serpent, partially rotten by rain and the elements.
"This has got to be the dumbest thing we have ever done Captain," the large veteran whispers.
"Nah, we done dumber," the thin mercenary answers, "Remember that time up round Scales?"
"Oh yeah," the big man chuckles, "They were scraping pumpkin out of the army barracks for three weeks. Served 'em right the uptight fucks."
"A little less chatter men," the Captain whispers over his shoulder, "Last thing we need is to get caught doing this."
This is robbery.
A very particular sort of robbery.
This is temple robbery. It pays well but by Wyrd you do not want to get caught doing it.
The Transcendent Order of the Grey Serpent is not an old order, nor is it a big one but they are rich and that makes them dangerous. Normally the Captain would not even consider this sort of job but the pay is absolutely obscene and she asked him to do it. She said it would really help out her father and mending fences with the old bastard is high on his list of priorities.
So now here he is, dressed in blacks, waiting with two of his best for her to get the damn door open.
"Captain ya seem tense, are you tense?" the thin merc whispers merrily.
"It is 'cause his sweetheart is in there alone," the big man chuckles slightly, "Captain hates it when she does these sorts of jobs, don't ya Captain?"
"Naram, Garner, what the fuck do you two idiots not get about being quiet?" he hisses.
The two mercenaries chuckle.
They are right of course. He does not like it when she has to do these infiltration runs. Not for any rational reason of course, she is very good at this, but because it would destroy him to lose her. Though on reflection she probably feels the same way when he marches off to do some escort job.
How long will this take? It has been an eternity, or five minutes, he is not sure which. Perhaps it has been both. Then slowly, mercifully, the front door opens a crack.
She is there, she whispers into the night, "Gareth? Naram? Garner? You boys out there?"
"We're here," Gareth answers as the three mercenaries slip in through the now open doors.
----------------------------------------------
Brigit hugs her man, "See told ya I could do it. Didn't even have to kill anyone. Just a few well placed suggestions and I have the run of the place. We should have twenty minutes to do this in, if we do it right it should take us ten," she tosses the men grey, wool robes, "Even got us some disguises too."
"You are a lifesaver," Naram grins as he pulls the robe over his blacks and wraps the excess fabric around his blade, "So now what?"
"They have the gems in the basement but things might get a bit rough," the archer replies, "Rumour round the city is that there is something down there, something big."
"Well we will just have to be careful," Gareth replies as he motions for Brigit to show them the way, "After you dear."
With a hop and a wink she is off into the heart of the compound with the three men close behind.
---------------------------------------------
The narrow, slanted stairs make quick descent impossible. One misplaced step in the dark and it would be a long way down to the bottom. Garner leads now, a large shield in front of him and his blade drawn. The four thieves descend into the very heart of the compound, in search of their prize and the wealth it will grant them.
Gradually the smooth stone walls of the passage begin to break up and give way to the jagged, unworked rock of natural caverns. The 'basement' stretches into darkness before them. A grand cavern filled a metre high with cool, dark water.
At the far end is their goal. A massive, grey, stone statue formed in a rough approximation of a serpent. From its open maw hangs a string of twenty two rubies the size of small melons. Each easily bigger than a fist.
Not a sound can be heard from the darkness and the light provided by their torches is as nothing against the darkness.
Gareth grunts, "What do you want to bet that whatever is down here is in that water?"
"Probably a snake, Captain," Naram offers.
"Maybe snakes, as in lots of 'em," Garner grumbles, "Would make sense what with 'em being the 'Order of the fuckin' Serpent'"
"Anyone got any ideas on how to do this without entering the water?" Brigit asks.
She is met with empty stares and shrugs.
"Alright then," she nods, "We will just have to stick together, move slowly, make the absolute minimum of noise, and hope that they aren't poisonous snakes, if there are snakes that is."
As one the four thieves creep into the water. It sloshes slightly as they very carefully wade towards the far end of the cavern and their prize.
Every step, every breath, every movement is carefully calculated as the crossing stretches out into eternity within their minds. Each expects hidden and instant death to fall upon them at a moments notice.
They wait for it but it does not come.
A minute turns into two then five. They make the crossing and they reach the statue.
From there it should be a simple matter to retrieve the rubies and pack them away.
She does her job well. She checks for pressure plates, for trip lines, for needles and hinges and alarms. She finds them all and disables them. Well all the inanimate ones at least. As she removes the rubies she hears a hissing from above her.
That hissing is soon joined by another, then another. Within seconds dozens, maybe hundreds, of reptilian voices ring out through the cavern. On leathery wings they descend towards the thieves in a swarm.
"So much for subtly!" Naram howls as he jumps into the water, his three companions close behind.
They splash through the cold water pushing their bodies to the limit as the flying serpents wheel and dive above them.
They refuse to get too close to the surface of the water though. It is as if they fear something.
"Oh bloody hell!" Naram shouts as the water churns around him.
A great grey serpent rips through the dark tides and coils itself around the mercenary. Its box like jaw open wide. Its scales are massive and knotted, they sag around it, like a small child wrapped in a coat two sizes too big.
It drags Naram under as his companion come to a full stop.
"Wyrd damn it!" shouts Garner at the rear of the group, "We can't fight that fuckin' thing here!"
Brigit stares at it, "Maybe we don't have to! Just watch my back!"
She begins to focus, her mind plunges into the dark waters, plunges towards the outline of the snake's head, towards its mind.
At times like this she wishes her friends were here. Derryth, Thaïs, even Christine. Someone with the magical talent to really handle this. But they are not here, she is and she is the only one that can help this man. She remembers what Derryth told her, 'If you want something in life kid, you have to take it.' Well she want them to all walk away from this and that is what will happen damn it.
The serpent's mind is so basic, so primal. At first you would think that, that would make it easier to control. Fewer barriers, fewer defences, but that is not really the case. It knows what it wants, it wants to eat and convincing it to release its prey will be difficult.
She opens with a pair of assault spells. That catches its attention. Splits its focus between its prey and its attacker. Then she begins with the suggestions. They are crude things but they work well enough here with the creature confused.
She can not create a lasting impression but she makes up for it with sheer quantity. She tells it, it is full. She tells it that he is poisonous. She tells it that he is dangerous. She tells it that there is plenty of food across the cavern floor.
It fights back, tries to maintain control but slowly it gives ground.
Worn out she launches one final attack, a compulsion. She orders the creature to release Naram and swim away. Reluctantly it does so and goes in search of the phantasmal food she conjured in its mind.
Naram bobs to the surface sputtering as Brigit falls backward toward the water. Gareth catches her and steadies her, brushing the hair from her face, "You going to be alright?"
"Yes, thanks," she smiles and shakes her head, "Just need a moment."
"I don't think we have one!" Garner shouts as he drags Naram through the water behind him.
With the larger serpent gone the smaller ones grow bolder.
The four thieves are forced to swim just under the surface to avoid the fangs and the barbed tails of the creatures. They swim in complete darkness, in a single line towards the exit as the flying serpents dip and weave around their last known location.
It is a small miracle that they all reach the other side. They are battered, bruised, half drowned but alive as they climb that long flight of stairs to the surface.
Spirits are high all things considered, which just makes their fall all the more dramatic...
--------------------------------------------
He returns to the surface, he is alive, she is alive, they are all alive. It was touch and go for a while down there but they came through and as he always say, any fight you walk away from is a victory. He brings up the rear and as he steps back into the main hallway he is promptly greeted by ten guards and the high priest of the Order. Spears and sabres levelled against him and his. That is not what surprises him though. What surprises him is a snivelling little weasel of a man, a known lieutenant of Brigit's father, the Dagda.
Betrayal instantly springs to mind.
"It is as you said," the high priest nods grimly, "Thieves robbing us of our greatest treasures."
"Now if you will simply let me take the girl," the little man steps towards Brigit, "We will be on our way."
"No!" the high priest howls, "They violated the sanctity of out innermost refuge! For this they all die!"
Garner laughs as he limbers up, "You have a mighty high estimation of your odds there priest!"
Naram sneers, "How many men have you killed anyway? I bet I got you beat by a few hundred at least!"
The Dagda's man motions to Brigit, "Come on girl! Your dad wants to speak with ya tonight w-"
The arrow that lodges itself in his throat prevents him from finishing his sentence, "Well boys. How are we going to play this?"
He takes one look at her face and can see the rage there. He has never seen her so angry, so betrayed. He answers.
"The only way we can," he replies as he draws his broadsword and his runeblade, "No witnesses."
The blade hums in his hand, it gives off a blue glow. The colour of the sea in the morning.
With that the runes on Brigit's arrow activate and the weasel's body violently explodes. It is just the distraction the mercenaries need.
Outnumbered they attack.
---------------------------------------------
In the twenty years the Dagda has run his business he has acquired certain tastes. The beef he eats can not be just any beef, it must be the best from the plains of Tyr. The oysters he has every night can not be just any oysters they must come directly from Scales packed in fresh mountain ice. The wine he drinks, ah, the wine, it must come from the rolling hills of Scales. Nothing else will do.
And so it is with not a little annoyance that he enters his apartments to find someone eating his dinner and drinking his wine. Worst of all is that he recognizes the man and he is a man that should be dead.
"Please sit Sir," the man gestures to a chair across from him as he puts the dinner off to one side.
Without missing a beat the Dagda replies, "It is rude to eat someone else's dinner Gareth."
"It would not be the first rude act perpetrated this evening, now please sit... Sir," the Veteran replies more forcefully.
As he gives the order the doors close behind the Dagda and a pair of mercenaries step forward. Wyrd they are an ugly pair. One broad and mean the other tall and vicious. It seems the Dagda has very little choice in this matter.
"Very well," he gives a slight and stiff bow to the mercenaries as he takes a seat across from Gareth, "Now to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit."
"One of your men betrayed you," Gareth fills a second glass with wine and passes it to the Dagda, "He almost got us killed on that job tonight."
"You don't say," the Dagda feigns shock, "Well it is a dangerous line of business we work in."
"Exactly," the Captain replies, "But, he put me, my men, and most importantly your daughter in jeopardy. Such things can not be allowed to occur and so I immediately came to warn you."
The Dagda smiles, "Oh, I am glad that you did, traitors must be punished. Where is he?"
"Dead," the large mercenary speaks.
"Along with the entire Order of the Grey Serpent," his thin colleague adds.
The pair are a little unnerving and if what they say is true then he has vastly underestimated these men. He will not let that happen again but for now he would very much like to make it out of this room. He will save his daughter on another occasion, "Well then it seems that everything worked out splendidly, now if you will excuse me-" he attempts to rise.
"Not quite," Gareth raises a hand and two strong hands pull the Dagda back into his chair, "There is still the matter of payment for the rubies we procured for you."
"Ah yes," the Dagda grins, "About that-"
"We will need triple the agreed upon amount," Gareth says as he refills his glass.
The Dagda begins, "That is not very professional-"
"Neither is trying to assassinate your allies," the Veteran stops pretending and goes for the throat. The Dagda visibly stiffens.
"Boy, you better not be suggesting what I think-" the Captain does not let him finish.
"Do you know why we are having this conversation?" the Captain asks.
"Ah, well-" the Dagda tries to answer.
Gareth raises a hand to stop him, he speaks in a calm and measured tone. One that commands respect, "Anyone else, I mean anyone else and we would simply have snuck into their room one night and snuffed out their life," he snaps his fingers, "We are of the Legion and we do not fuck around. So when I ask you why we are having this conversation I don't actually want a fucking answer. I want you to sit there while I tell you exactly why we are here. Understood?"
"Ye-" Gareth shakes his head.
He picks up the steak knife and points it at the Dagda, "Don't talk. Just nod if you understand."
The Dagda nods.
"Good," he once more picks up his plate and sets to work on the steak again, "Now the reason we are having this conversation is due entirely to your angel of a daughter. She is completely, absolutely, magnificent and she is the sole reason I have not fed you your own ass. Understand?"
Again he nods.
"Good," he pops a piece of steak into his mouth, "This, this is really good steak you know that? Of course you do. Now I am going to set out a few more ground rules here. You will pay us three times the going rate for those rubies and you will do it gladly. Understand?"
He hangs his head but nods slightly. He balls his fists trying to wrestle down his anger and humiliation.
"Good," Gareth takes a nice long sip of the wine, "Now I want to be honest with you and I want to be respectful to you but you are making it damn hard to do either. I love your daughter, I love her enough to kill for her and I love her enough to spare your life. That is how much I love her so I am asking you for her sake to let this go, to grow up and move past this or-"
"Or you will kill me!" the Dagda shouts in a rage, "Is that what you were going to say! That you will fucking kill me! What will she think of you then! I raised her, I looked after her, and I can damn well guarantee that if you even touch a hair on my head she will hate you forever for it!" he grins a feral grin as he finishes his declaration.
"No, that is not what I was going to say," Gareth calmly replies, "I won't kill you."
His head is pulled back, pinned to the back of the chair.
A knife comes out, long, thin, lethal. Someone breathes right next to his ear. He can not see who it is, but he knows, he can smell her.
"No," she whispers, "He won't kill you da... I will."
"Biddy... Biddy please..." he whimpers.
"No da. You let this go tonight or I swear on ma's grave that I will kill you," there is so little of the little girl he knew in her voice. She is so cold. So professional.
It is too much. He has done so much for her. Now this.
It breaks him.
He weeps.
In silence they get up and leave him. They snuff out the lights as they slip out of the room.
He sits, doesn't move a muscle.
Alone in darkness.
He weeps.
----------------------------------------
He checks, then double checks the ledgers. With a satisfied grin he leans back in his chair, eyes closed he chatters happily to himself, "Well money should not be a problem for a while though if we do not keep the boys and girls busy who knows what they could get up to?"
He knows exactly what they could get up to, no good.
Hell he can hear it right now outside his window. He stands and walks towards it. Leaning on the frame, he considers the courtyard.
Three-Fingers sits in a corner positively wailing on his guitar.
Everyone is in high spirits today.
Well except for the Captain and his sweetheart but they will cheer up eventually.
They have been locked in their suite 'talking' for the better part of the day while the rank and file enjoy a day off.
Garner and Naram, the inseparable duo have been hustling the new meat out of their pay for the better part of the morning while the rest of the company lounges around listening to music and drinking.
Brom, a ragged beast in the clothes of a man staggers by laughing, "A few dancing girls and it would be perfect! Ida! Morna! You up for it!"
"Fuck off you asshole!" Ida laughs.
Morna howls, "You get up there first beautiful! Put on a fuckin' show for us and maybe I will return the favour!"
It is while watching this unfold that he notices a guest entering through the main gate of the compound, "Visitor! One of the guards calls out. Says she has business with the Captain!"
He yells back, "Captain's busy! Send her up to me!"
"Sure thing Thayer!" the guard calls back as Thayer returns to his desk and waits for his guest.
She is a mage, or at least she looks like a mage. She is tall, blonde, more handsome than out-and-out beautiful but she commands the room as she enters.
He offers her a seat and politely she accepts, "So Miss..."
"Keelan, if you will," she responds quietly.
"So then dear lady what do you require our services for?" Thayer cuts directly to business.
"I am having a little trouble acquiring a certain artefact in possession of one of the Circles in this city. I have heard that perhaps you are the people to talk to about that," she smiles at him. Instantly he wants to help her.
"Perhaps, perhaps," he nods, "We would need to know more about the defenses these mages have though."
She grins as she begins, "Have you ever heard of a forvalaka?"
Interlude 2: The Serpent's Maw
The moon hangs low in the sky. Round and full it illuminates the night casting deep shadows through the broken city.
No sane person would walk these streets at this hour. During the day the Emperor's soldiers patrol the city but at night, at night, Muirthemne belongs to the Dark and the desperate.
Cutthroats and cultists, madmen and monsters drift past one another in the night. It is the height of folly to interrupt them in their course, to do so is to invite death, madness, horror. Wise men stay in their homes but you can't earn coin that way.
Three cloaked figures huddle at the mouth of an alley. The first is a great mountain of a man with a face even his mother could not love. His is a broad, hard face with great azure eyes and a large crooked nose. He carefully scans the street in front of them. Next to him is a thin man, lean, with the look of a seasoned man of war. He has a certain eastern flavour to him, no doubt from the borderlands at the end of the empire. His eyes are thin and sharp, his black hair drawn back and knotted on top of his head. He grins as he fingers his blade. Their leader while less physically impressive than either of them carries himself with a confidence born of commanding men. He is still in the night, listening carefully as the other two whisper to one another. He is a man of business, a man of action and a man that rarely fails. Yet he seems the most nervous of the three or perhaps simply the most aware of the dangers they face. He leans around the corner and surveys their target with his lone eye.
Their target is a large brick and wood compound. It is unlit, its occupants mostly asleep for the night. On top of the front door is a carving of a great coiled serpent, partially rotten by rain and the elements.
"This has got to be the dumbest thing we have ever done Captain," the large veteran whispers.
"Nah, we done dumber," the thin mercenary answers, "Remember that time up round Scales?"
"Oh yeah," the big man chuckles, "They were scraping pumpkin out of the army barracks for three weeks. Served 'em right the uptight fucks."
"A little less chatter men," the Captain whispers over his shoulder, "Last thing we need is to get caught doing this."
This is robbery.
A very particular sort of robbery.
This is temple robbery. It pays well but by Wyrd you do not want to get caught doing it.
The Transcendent Order of the Grey Serpent is not an old order, nor is it a big one but they are rich and that makes them dangerous. Normally the Captain would not even consider this sort of job but the pay is absolutely obscene and she asked him to do it. She said it would really help out her father and mending fences with the old bastard is high on his list of priorities.
So now here he is, dressed in blacks, waiting with two of his best for her to get the damn door open.
"Captain ya seem tense, are you tense?" the thin merc whispers merrily.
"It is 'cause his sweetheart is in there alone," the big man chuckles slightly, "Captain hates it when she does these sorts of jobs, don't ya Captain?"
"Naram, Garner, what the fuck do you two idiots not get about being quiet?" he hisses.
The two mercenaries chuckle.
They are right of course. He does not like it when she has to do these infiltration runs. Not for any rational reason of course, she is very good at this, but because it would destroy him to lose her. Though on reflection she probably feels the same way when he marches off to do some escort job.
How long will this take? It has been an eternity, or five minutes, he is not sure which. Perhaps it has been both. Then slowly, mercifully, the front door opens a crack.
She is there, she whispers into the night, "Gareth? Naram? Garner? You boys out there?"
"We're here," Gareth answers as the three mercenaries slip in through the now open doors.
----------------------------------------------
Brigit hugs her man, "See told ya I could do it. Didn't even have to kill anyone. Just a few well placed suggestions and I have the run of the place. We should have twenty minutes to do this in, if we do it right it should take us ten," she tosses the men grey, wool robes, "Even got us some disguises too."
"You are a lifesaver," Naram grins as he pulls the robe over his blacks and wraps the excess fabric around his blade, "So now what?"
"They have the gems in the basement but things might get a bit rough," the archer replies, "Rumour round the city is that there is something down there, something big."
"Well we will just have to be careful," Gareth replies as he motions for Brigit to show them the way, "After you dear."
With a hop and a wink she is off into the heart of the compound with the three men close behind.
---------------------------------------------
The narrow, slanted stairs make quick descent impossible. One misplaced step in the dark and it would be a long way down to the bottom. Garner leads now, a large shield in front of him and his blade drawn. The four thieves descend into the very heart of the compound, in search of their prize and the wealth it will grant them.
Gradually the smooth stone walls of the passage begin to break up and give way to the jagged, unworked rock of natural caverns. The 'basement' stretches into darkness before them. A grand cavern filled a metre high with cool, dark water.
At the far end is their goal. A massive, grey, stone statue formed in a rough approximation of a serpent. From its open maw hangs a string of twenty two rubies the size of small melons. Each easily bigger than a fist.
Not a sound can be heard from the darkness and the light provided by their torches is as nothing against the darkness.
Gareth grunts, "What do you want to bet that whatever is down here is in that water?"
"Probably a snake, Captain," Naram offers.
"Maybe snakes, as in lots of 'em," Garner grumbles, "Would make sense what with 'em being the 'Order of the fuckin' Serpent'"
"Anyone got any ideas on how to do this without entering the water?" Brigit asks.
She is met with empty stares and shrugs.
"Alright then," she nods, "We will just have to stick together, move slowly, make the absolute minimum of noise, and hope that they aren't poisonous snakes, if there are snakes that is."
As one the four thieves creep into the water. It sloshes slightly as they very carefully wade towards the far end of the cavern and their prize.
Every step, every breath, every movement is carefully calculated as the crossing stretches out into eternity within their minds. Each expects hidden and instant death to fall upon them at a moments notice.
They wait for it but it does not come.
A minute turns into two then five. They make the crossing and they reach the statue.
From there it should be a simple matter to retrieve the rubies and pack them away.
She does her job well. She checks for pressure plates, for trip lines, for needles and hinges and alarms. She finds them all and disables them. Well all the inanimate ones at least. As she removes the rubies she hears a hissing from above her.
That hissing is soon joined by another, then another. Within seconds dozens, maybe hundreds, of reptilian voices ring out through the cavern. On leathery wings they descend towards the thieves in a swarm.
"So much for subtly!" Naram howls as he jumps into the water, his three companions close behind.
They splash through the cold water pushing their bodies to the limit as the flying serpents wheel and dive above them.
They refuse to get too close to the surface of the water though. It is as if they fear something.
"Oh bloody hell!" Naram shouts as the water churns around him.
A great grey serpent rips through the dark tides and coils itself around the mercenary. Its box like jaw open wide. Its scales are massive and knotted, they sag around it, like a small child wrapped in a coat two sizes too big.
It drags Naram under as his companion come to a full stop.
"Wyrd damn it!" shouts Garner at the rear of the group, "We can't fight that fuckin' thing here!"
Brigit stares at it, "Maybe we don't have to! Just watch my back!"
She begins to focus, her mind plunges into the dark waters, plunges towards the outline of the snake's head, towards its mind.
At times like this she wishes her friends were here. Derryth, Thaïs, even Christine. Someone with the magical talent to really handle this. But they are not here, she is and she is the only one that can help this man. She remembers what Derryth told her, 'If you want something in life kid, you have to take it.' Well she want them to all walk away from this and that is what will happen damn it.
The serpent's mind is so basic, so primal. At first you would think that, that would make it easier to control. Fewer barriers, fewer defences, but that is not really the case. It knows what it wants, it wants to eat and convincing it to release its prey will be difficult.
She opens with a pair of assault spells. That catches its attention. Splits its focus between its prey and its attacker. Then she begins with the suggestions. They are crude things but they work well enough here with the creature confused.
She can not create a lasting impression but she makes up for it with sheer quantity. She tells it, it is full. She tells it that he is poisonous. She tells it that he is dangerous. She tells it that there is plenty of food across the cavern floor.
It fights back, tries to maintain control but slowly it gives ground.
Worn out she launches one final attack, a compulsion. She orders the creature to release Naram and swim away. Reluctantly it does so and goes in search of the phantasmal food she conjured in its mind.
Naram bobs to the surface sputtering as Brigit falls backward toward the water. Gareth catches her and steadies her, brushing the hair from her face, "You going to be alright?"
"Yes, thanks," she smiles and shakes her head, "Just need a moment."
"I don't think we have one!" Garner shouts as he drags Naram through the water behind him.
With the larger serpent gone the smaller ones grow bolder.
The four thieves are forced to swim just under the surface to avoid the fangs and the barbed tails of the creatures. They swim in complete darkness, in a single line towards the exit as the flying serpents dip and weave around their last known location.
It is a small miracle that they all reach the other side. They are battered, bruised, half drowned but alive as they climb that long flight of stairs to the surface.
Spirits are high all things considered, which just makes their fall all the more dramatic...
--------------------------------------------
He returns to the surface, he is alive, she is alive, they are all alive. It was touch and go for a while down there but they came through and as he always say, any fight you walk away from is a victory. He brings up the rear and as he steps back into the main hallway he is promptly greeted by ten guards and the high priest of the Order. Spears and sabres levelled against him and his. That is not what surprises him though. What surprises him is a snivelling little weasel of a man, a known lieutenant of Brigit's father, the Dagda.
Betrayal instantly springs to mind.
"It is as you said," the high priest nods grimly, "Thieves robbing us of our greatest treasures."
"Now if you will simply let me take the girl," the little man steps towards Brigit, "We will be on our way."
"No!" the high priest howls, "They violated the sanctity of out innermost refuge! For this they all die!"
Garner laughs as he limbers up, "You have a mighty high estimation of your odds there priest!"
Naram sneers, "How many men have you killed anyway? I bet I got you beat by a few hundred at least!"
The Dagda's man motions to Brigit, "Come on girl! Your dad wants to speak with ya tonight w-"
The arrow that lodges itself in his throat prevents him from finishing his sentence, "Well boys. How are we going to play this?"
He takes one look at her face and can see the rage there. He has never seen her so angry, so betrayed. He answers.
"The only way we can," he replies as he draws his broadsword and his runeblade, "No witnesses."
The blade hums in his hand, it gives off a blue glow. The colour of the sea in the morning.
With that the runes on Brigit's arrow activate and the weasel's body violently explodes. It is just the distraction the mercenaries need.
Outnumbered they attack.
---------------------------------------------
In the twenty years the Dagda has run his business he has acquired certain tastes. The beef he eats can not be just any beef, it must be the best from the plains of Tyr. The oysters he has every night can not be just any oysters they must come directly from Scales packed in fresh mountain ice. The wine he drinks, ah, the wine, it must come from the rolling hills of Scales. Nothing else will do.
And so it is with not a little annoyance that he enters his apartments to find someone eating his dinner and drinking his wine. Worst of all is that he recognizes the man and he is a man that should be dead.
"Please sit Sir," the man gestures to a chair across from him as he puts the dinner off to one side.
Without missing a beat the Dagda replies, "It is rude to eat someone else's dinner Gareth."
"It would not be the first rude act perpetrated this evening, now please sit... Sir," the Veteran replies more forcefully.
As he gives the order the doors close behind the Dagda and a pair of mercenaries step forward. Wyrd they are an ugly pair. One broad and mean the other tall and vicious. It seems the Dagda has very little choice in this matter.
"Very well," he gives a slight and stiff bow to the mercenaries as he takes a seat across from Gareth, "Now to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit."
"One of your men betrayed you," Gareth fills a second glass with wine and passes it to the Dagda, "He almost got us killed on that job tonight."
"You don't say," the Dagda feigns shock, "Well it is a dangerous line of business we work in."
"Exactly," the Captain replies, "But, he put me, my men, and most importantly your daughter in jeopardy. Such things can not be allowed to occur and so I immediately came to warn you."
The Dagda smiles, "Oh, I am glad that you did, traitors must be punished. Where is he?"
"Dead," the large mercenary speaks.
"Along with the entire Order of the Grey Serpent," his thin colleague adds.
The pair are a little unnerving and if what they say is true then he has vastly underestimated these men. He will not let that happen again but for now he would very much like to make it out of this room. He will save his daughter on another occasion, "Well then it seems that everything worked out splendidly, now if you will excuse me-" he attempts to rise.
"Not quite," Gareth raises a hand and two strong hands pull the Dagda back into his chair, "There is still the matter of payment for the rubies we procured for you."
"Ah yes," the Dagda grins, "About that-"
"We will need triple the agreed upon amount," Gareth says as he refills his glass.
The Dagda begins, "That is not very professional-"
"Neither is trying to assassinate your allies," the Veteran stops pretending and goes for the throat. The Dagda visibly stiffens.
"Boy, you better not be suggesting what I think-" the Captain does not let him finish.
"Do you know why we are having this conversation?" the Captain asks.
"Ah, well-" the Dagda tries to answer.
Gareth raises a hand to stop him, he speaks in a calm and measured tone. One that commands respect, "Anyone else, I mean anyone else and we would simply have snuck into their room one night and snuffed out their life," he snaps his fingers, "We are of the Legion and we do not fuck around. So when I ask you why we are having this conversation I don't actually want a fucking answer. I want you to sit there while I tell you exactly why we are here. Understood?"
"Ye-" Gareth shakes his head.
He picks up the steak knife and points it at the Dagda, "Don't talk. Just nod if you understand."
The Dagda nods.
"Good," he once more picks up his plate and sets to work on the steak again, "Now the reason we are having this conversation is due entirely to your angel of a daughter. She is completely, absolutely, magnificent and she is the sole reason I have not fed you your own ass. Understand?"
Again he nods.
"Good," he pops a piece of steak into his mouth, "This, this is really good steak you know that? Of course you do. Now I am going to set out a few more ground rules here. You will pay us three times the going rate for those rubies and you will do it gladly. Understand?"
He hangs his head but nods slightly. He balls his fists trying to wrestle down his anger and humiliation.
"Good," Gareth takes a nice long sip of the wine, "Now I want to be honest with you and I want to be respectful to you but you are making it damn hard to do either. I love your daughter, I love her enough to kill for her and I love her enough to spare your life. That is how much I love her so I am asking you for her sake to let this go, to grow up and move past this or-"
"Or you will kill me!" the Dagda shouts in a rage, "Is that what you were going to say! That you will fucking kill me! What will she think of you then! I raised her, I looked after her, and I can damn well guarantee that if you even touch a hair on my head she will hate you forever for it!" he grins a feral grin as he finishes his declaration.
"No, that is not what I was going to say," Gareth calmly replies, "I won't kill you."
His head is pulled back, pinned to the back of the chair.
A knife comes out, long, thin, lethal. Someone breathes right next to his ear. He can not see who it is, but he knows, he can smell her.
"No," she whispers, "He won't kill you da... I will."
"Biddy... Biddy please..." he whimpers.
"No da. You let this go tonight or I swear on ma's grave that I will kill you," there is so little of the little girl he knew in her voice. She is so cold. So professional.
It is too much. He has done so much for her. Now this.
It breaks him.
He weeps.
In silence they get up and leave him. They snuff out the lights as they slip out of the room.
He sits, doesn't move a muscle.
Alone in darkness.
He weeps.
----------------------------------------
He checks, then double checks the ledgers. With a satisfied grin he leans back in his chair, eyes closed he chatters happily to himself, "Well money should not be a problem for a while though if we do not keep the boys and girls busy who knows what they could get up to?"
He knows exactly what they could get up to, no good.
Hell he can hear it right now outside his window. He stands and walks towards it. Leaning on the frame, he considers the courtyard.
Three-Fingers sits in a corner positively wailing on his guitar.
Everyone is in high spirits today.
Well except for the Captain and his sweetheart but they will cheer up eventually.
They have been locked in their suite 'talking' for the better part of the day while the rank and file enjoy a day off.
Garner and Naram, the inseparable duo have been hustling the new meat out of their pay for the better part of the morning while the rest of the company lounges around listening to music and drinking.
Brom, a ragged beast in the clothes of a man staggers by laughing, "A few dancing girls and it would be perfect! Ida! Morna! You up for it!"
"Fuck off you asshole!" Ida laughs.
Morna howls, "You get up there first beautiful! Put on a fuckin' show for us and maybe I will return the favour!"
It is while watching this unfold that he notices a guest entering through the main gate of the compound, "Visitor! One of the guards calls out. Says she has business with the Captain!"
He yells back, "Captain's busy! Send her up to me!"
"Sure thing Thayer!" the guard calls back as Thayer returns to his desk and waits for his guest.
She is a mage, or at least she looks like a mage. She is tall, blonde, more handsome than out-and-out beautiful but she commands the room as she enters.
He offers her a seat and politely she accepts, "So Miss..."
"Keelan, if you will," she responds quietly.
"So then dear lady what do you require our services for?" Thayer cuts directly to business.
"I am having a little trouble acquiring a certain artefact in possession of one of the Circles in this city. I have heard that perhaps you are the people to talk to about that," she smiles at him. Instantly he wants to help her.
"Perhaps, perhaps," he nods, "We would need to know more about the defenses these mages have though."
She grins as she begins, "Have you ever heard of a forvalaka?"
Last edited:
- Joined
- Dec 29, 2011
- Messages
- 2,835
Mayer can't be controlled, the lesser merchants can, so long as we approach from a position of power. That's workable for us. Mayer not so much. I never wanted to make a deal with him, folk like the Barings have the resources, but lack the mental acuity to use them fully. We can bully and intimidate these people into giving us what we want, and if they ever turn on us, we have the magical prowess to make their lives a living hell.
Edit: Damn, update... Reading.
Edit2: Oh, votes aren't locked, nevermind
Even if the Barings are taken out by the king, I think we can arrange it so that much of their resources are transferred to us as his "vassal" or partner. Which would be just as perfect. Mayer is too much of a wildcard, too much of an equal, too much competition. Better to take him out and make our own play.
Edit: Damn, update... Reading.
Edit2: Oh, votes aren't locked, nevermind
Even if the Barings are taken out by the king, I think we can arrange it so that much of their resources are transferred to us as his "vassal" or partner. Which would be just as perfect. Mayer is too much of a wildcard, too much of an equal, too much competition. Better to take him out and make our own play.
Last edited:
Nevill
Arcane
- Joined
- Jun 6, 2009
- Messages
- 11,211
It's .... The Faceless (Wo)man!!
Dun dun dunnnn!
Dun dun dunnnn!
Cool though, that he's already doing business with us, eh? 
Nevill
Arcane
- Joined
- Jun 6, 2009
- Messages
- 11,211
You've seen the man for a whooping total of 2 times, and you know nothing about him.
In the first visit you've learned that you don't waste his time.
In the second and coincidentally the last visit you've learned that you don't lie to the man. How demanding of him.
Basically, it's this:
The man demands to be treated like an equal, especially when we are the ones approaching him for help in starting our venture, and not the other way around. Yeah, having a bunch of puppets you can boss around might be safer, but those won't carry you far. Those are the risks you take if you are aiming high.
- Joined
- Dec 29, 2011
- Messages
- 2,835
Poor Mazzarin, he has no equals, only subordinates. I suppose he'll never achieve anything 
Nevill
Arcane
- Joined
- Jun 6, 2009
- Messages
- 11,211
He won't. Or at least, he won't achieve anything of use.
The man is clearly not all that sane and insecure as fuck, to boot. I don't think many of us here want to end up like him.
All he has left in life is his hatred towards his old enemies. He did not leave us a reason to believe he has any plans beyond that. So most likely he will spend the next thousand years trying to one-up the Watcher and Co in an eternal deadlock until one of them manages to put the other into the ground again and someone like Alric disposes of the winner.
The man is clearly not all that sane and insecure as fuck, to boot. I don't think many of us here want to end up like him.
All he has left in life is his hatred towards his old enemies. He did not leave us a reason to believe he has any plans beyond that. So most likely he will spend the next thousand years trying to one-up the Watcher and Co in an eternal deadlock until one of them manages to put the other into the ground again and someone like Alric disposes of the winner.
Nevill
Arcane
- Joined
- Jun 6, 2009
- Messages
- 11,211
Not to beat a dead horse, it's just I didn't think of that aspect before and I thought I might share it.
Another thing that works in favor of telling Mayer our story is the message it sends. Yeah, we've made a blunder with Melete, but we've managed to turn the situation around and to our benefit. And as for those who opposed us and sought to do us harm... where are they? The Warlock and his sell-swords that ambushed us? All dead. The Oneiroi that attaked us and our friend? Dead to the last man except for the duo who will rot in prison for the rest of their lives. The man who betrayed us? Lost without a trace. The Eberhardts that tried to get not only at us, but at our companions as well? Soon-to-be-dead alongside with everyone who supported them.
I am inclined to think this establishes us as people that do not mess around and are not to be messed with, and that a ruthless man like Mayer might respect that.
Basically, I am reminded of that paragraph and the difference between our reaction and that of the king:
Another thing that works in favor of telling Mayer our story is the message it sends. Yeah, we've made a blunder with Melete, but we've managed to turn the situation around and to our benefit. And as for those who opposed us and sought to do us harm... where are they? The Warlock and his sell-swords that ambushed us? All dead. The Oneiroi that attaked us and our friend? Dead to the last man except for the duo who will rot in prison for the rest of their lives. The man who betrayed us? Lost without a trace. The Eberhardts that tried to get not only at us, but at our companions as well? Soon-to-be-dead alongside with everyone who supported them.
I am inclined to think this establishes us as people that do not mess around and are not to be messed with, and that a ruthless man like Mayer might respect that.
Basically, I am reminded of that paragraph and the difference between our reaction and that of the king:
I think we've matured a bit since then.
Last edited:
Fangshi
Arcane
- Joined
- Jan 9, 2014
- Messages
- 1,997
Tally:
Kz3r0 1.B 2.A 3.C 4.A
Zero Credibility 1.E>B 2.A>C 3.D>C 4.B>A
Nevill 1.F>A 2.A 3.A 4.E
Azira 1.F 2.A 3.A 4.A
asxetos 1.B 2.A 3.C 4.A
Smashing Axe 1.E>C>B>D>F 2.C>A 3.B 4.E
Jester 1.F 2.A 3.A 4.E
archaen 1.F>A 2.A 3.D 4.E
Grimgravy 1.B 2.C 3.A 4.B
Baltika9 1.A>F 2.A 3.A 4.E
1.
A) 1 vote
B) 3 votes
C)
D)
E)
F) 6 votes
2.
A) 9 votes
B)
C) 1 vote
3.
A) 5 votes
B) 1 vote
C) 3 votes
D) 1 vote
4.
A) 4 votes
B) 1 vote
C)
D)
E) 5 votes
So currently we still have two ties one tie (Lyssa's activities and the Girls' training) when those have been resolved I will close the voting. If the ties are broken in the next couple of hours then the update will be out within twelve hours. If not it will have to wait about forty eight hours.
Alright, the vote is closed. You will ask Mr Mayer to introduce you to his other guests prior to hearing your story. You will lie to the king and try to gather some more information. You will have Lyssa split her time between the academy and her own activities and you will get the girls a proper teacher in the Art of War. Update will be out some time today, twelve, maybe fourteen hours.
Kz3r0 1.B 2.A 3.C 4.A
Zero Credibility 1.E>B 2.A>C 3.D>C 4.B>A
Nevill 1.F>A 2.A 3.A 4.E
Azira 1.F 2.A 3.A 4.A
asxetos 1.B 2.A 3.C 4.A
Smashing Axe 1.E>C>B>D>F 2.C>A 3.B 4.E
Jester 1.F 2.A 3.A 4.E
archaen 1.F>A 2.A 3.D 4.E
Grimgravy 1.B 2.C 3.A 4.B
Baltika9 1.A>F 2.A 3.A 4.E
1.
A) 1 vote
B) 3 votes
C)
D)
E)
F) 6 votes
2.
A) 9 votes
B)
C) 1 vote
3.
A) 5 votes
B) 1 vote
C) 3 votes
D) 1 vote
4.
A) 4 votes
B) 1 vote
C)
D)
E) 5 votes
Alright, the vote is closed. You will ask Mr Mayer to introduce you to his other guests prior to hearing your story. You will lie to the king and try to gather some more information. You will have Lyssa split her time between the academy and her own activities and you will get the girls a proper teacher in the Art of War. Update will be out some time today, twelve, maybe fourteen hours.
Last edited:
- Joined
- Dec 29, 2011
- Messages
- 2,835
Lying to the king more than necessary is such an incredibly bad idea. It's going to burn us bad.
As an Amazon Associate, rpgcodex.net earns from qualifying purchases.