[Game Thread] Off-Stage Narration

[Fil kearney]

This is a separate thread used for narration-- either written by the DM, players, or guest stars.

useful purposes would include:

--stuff your cohorts/minions are doing when yer not around
--anything involving your faction... both good and bad.
--foreshadowing/setting the stage for future personal plots
--fun tangents and flavor text involving the world

This stuff is worth the sme 1% that posting in thread is, but I'll apply no limit to how much you can accumulte. Talk about motivating your creative juices, eh?

[Fil kearney]

This one was posted by Surreal previously....


((timeline: in the indeterminate future))

He had been tracking them for several days now; the small eclectic group that they were. The orders themselves were simple, though carrying them out not so much. These creatures were certainly not your typical quarry, carrying strange auras and scents that changed as often as the wind changed direction. He couldn't quite be certain how many he was even tracking. Whereas most tracking auras become blurred as time passes, these seemed convoluted from the start, at times even polluted, as if their souls were a lie. Some twisted together, others broke apart, and some even seemed to fly.

The trail led to the rail station, and the figure growls to himself. It was akin to a hound sniffing at tracks coming to a river. Too much mixture and flow to disrupt the scent. The floatstones too carried a stench of unnaturalness, nevermind the horrid rail that screamed in the aether and bound the earth, making a prison of the land beneath it.

He mentally plugged his nose and headed straight for the foreman of the station. "Excuse me my good man, I wish to inquire about some passengers that came by some days ago."

"Aye sorry lad, but 'nless you come with orders from the local magistrate, information 'bout our clientele are strictly confidential."

"Oh, but I don't want much. Just to know which way they were passing. It was a group from New Cyre..."

"Sir, so many people that pass by here, I can hardly remember what's what or who's where in a what y'know"..."

"Are you sure you can't help me? perhaps if you take a look at this..." as the hooded figure unrolls a parchment into the foreman's hands, two platinum coins slide into the foreman's hands.

"Ah, well, now that you mention it, perhaps I can help ye out a bit."

"Excellent. As I was saying, there was a group from New Cyre a few days ago. I believe they were headed for Sharn."

"Ah yes, that'd be Lady Crineth and her entourage (mmm, that young lass was quite a saucy thing). A fine bunch they were. Sure helped us out of a pickle when they arrived."

"What happened?"

"Oh, just a bit of a spill 'o stones on the rail, made a real muck of things. Could'a been worse though, 'till they magicked everything and cleaned 'er up."

"Magic? how so?"

"Buddy, yer talking to the wrong guy fer that. I can fix-er-up a tram that'll get y' ta Sharn in a day'n'haf, but I canna tell a mage from a 'ficer."

"I see... well anyhow, can you tell me where in Sharn the group was headed?"

"Aye, they 'ported in to D20. It was just a coupl'a..."

The foreman is interruped by one of his workers, "Excuse me sir?"

"Yes lad?"

"Um, you've been standing out here by yourself staring at the clouds for a while now. Just wondering if everything was alright."

"Ah... yes... just daydreamin' I s'pose"

"What's that in your hand sir?"

The foreman looks down at the two buttons he has clutched in his hand. "Hmm, I suppose these must have fallen off my coat somehow..." as the foreman looks around somewhat confused, since his buttons seem to be all accounted for.

[Fil kearney]

This was also written by surreal....

((more fluff, kind of short form writing))

((timeline: after Sul starts working the first night))

Meanwhile, at the local jail...

Stevenson: What's with all the kooks tonight? We got that bunch tied up on our doorstep, and in the past hour we've had a half-dozen come running through our doors turning themselves in, looking like they've had half the life beat out of 'em, and the other half scared out.

Mitchelli: They're all babbling about some monster coming after them. The "mountie" or the "monty" or something or other...

Stevenson: The Montiman? Oh man, I heard stories about him when I was a kid.

Mitchelli: You are a kid Steve

Stevenson: Oh shut yer yap "old man"

Mitchelli: Heh, you believe any of that nonsense the crooks are saying?

Stevenson: How else do you explain all of them down here? It doesn't even get this busy on a full moon. Hey, why don't we ask the new girl? Isn't she from Montinue?

new girl: I have a name you know. And no, I'm from a small hamlet about a half day's ride from Montinue. But I have heard of him, or it, or whatever it is.

reporter guy: Excuse me, but I've heard reports that the Montinue Stalker is in town trying to clean up our streets. Any comment on that?

all three officers: Get out!

reporter guy to scared thug at the door: Psst, hey mac, 10 silvers if can you tell me...

[Surreal]

((Terribly short post from me today, more of a footnote really. It's 3am, blah. Think of this as potential complications for the future))

((location: hotel, time: just after serving dinner))
The attendant grumbled as he rolled the food cart away. Customers with expense accounts typically forgot to tip, and this was no exception. On the other hand, he did get a fine view of her when she turned around and ignored him. Snacking on some of the leftovers on the cart, he made a bit of a mental note to affix a scrying gem in her bathroom.

[Fil kearney]

Here's Aurok's brief background.. He'll be tied into sul's tangent thread immediately.

Here's how it goes...


As a member of a well- known secret ops team, Aurok has been sent to sharn by the Three Sisters ruling Droaam to put an end to a particular sect of earthen elementals calling themselves, "the brotherhood of Stone" or "stonebrothers:" or some such nonsense.


They've been a small sect dipping in at the eastern borders of Droaam and the Eldeen reaches for some years now, but They have apparently gotten into something that is gonna cause catastrophic disaster for Droaam's connection to Khyber.
Whatever it is, it happening by the New moon... which happens to be tomorrow night..
Aurok wasn't told why they were dangerous, just kill em.

Aurok was sent with one other.. a Beast Adept named "Arun- Khar". He and his pair of Bulettes have had a fantastic history of hunting down quarry through the tunnels of khyber beneath droaam, and as a fellow operative, has familiarity with Aurok-- HAD familiarity is accurate. He's dead now.

The bulettes caught a scent in the cogs after a VERY long journey to sharn via underground. Breaking into what was apparently an abandoned factory deep beneath the city, The bulettes found a squad of Warforged armed to the TEETH that simply melted into the rough hewn walls. The Karrnathi enhanced Bulettes could burrow about as fast as they can charge across open ground, but before locking in on the prey, Arun-Khar was cut down by a sizable amount of spell power... one of the damn 'forged simply popped out of the wall and unloaded a huge payload of wand mastery on him. Aurok himself had taken some residual damage from the spells... having successfully dodged behind the bulettes... but Arun was ripped to pieces.

Aurok has no idea how to control the beasts, so they took off throught the rock walls, burrowing after the 'forged ever since.. they've been playing tag with them for the past 15 hours, and the beasts are damn near exhausted.
The 'Forged never rest... It's just a matter of time before they outflank him again. Staying with the Bulettes has become a liability he cannot afford. Without any better leads, Aurok plods through the impromptu tunnels back to where his ally was slain, where the "forged were caught offguard.

Perhaps More information can be gathered there.

It sounds like the beasts are returning to their dead master's side to rest. Wonderful.

[Silent Wayfarer]

Not too sure exactly how to respond, so I just took a stab at it. =p

[Fil kearney]

you did just fine. we're all kinda winging it... I never intended on this situation 48 hours ago! so I'm as broadsided about these things as you are.

[Surreal]

((just felt like writing; wasn't sure whether to put this here or in the grove))
((location: The Grove, time: the party))

The little creature watched the merriment below with much fascination. What started off as a few strange creatures carrying bowls of food and drink was now a large gathering of even stranger creatures carrying even more food and drink. So curious. It hopped from branch to branch with barely a sound, almost invisible in the foliage.

Scrambling down a tree and under a table, a quick yank on a table cloth yields a crumbly reward. A second table proffers something sweet. The third attempt results in a scream from a young lass who apparently did not appreciate little creatures hiding under her dress. The creature makes a run for it as the surrounding people turn towards towards the commotion and reach for it.

"Shoo! Scram!"
"Quick, grab it"
*whistle* "now there's a fine pair 'o..."
"that's a big squirrel"
"that ain't no squirrel"
"Hey! Watch the hands!" *SLAP*
"ow, it bit me"
"Ach! it's in me pants"

The creature darts through the multitude of hands and feet, scurrying up a loose pant leg of a nearby dwarf. How could it tell it was a Dwarf? Even Halflings aren't that hairy.

"By Mor's almighty beard, somebody help me get this thing out of my pants" as the Dwarf scrambles with his belt while swatting at his lower region. The rest of the party goers just stare unmoving, as if silently voicing a universal "we're not going there" response.

"Ach! It has sharp claws! For the love of mead, somebody hel..." as the creature finds a hole in his pocket and darts up, digging into his beard and running up past his face onto his head before making a fantastic leap back into the trees. The Dwarf recoils from the assault on his face and tumbles into a punch bowl, a remarkable feat considering that the bowl was in fact on a table taller than he. The wet dwarf rolls back up, lifts the punch bowl off his head to look at the small congregation now gathered around him. He limply makes a curled finger position in front of him"... really... sharp... claws?"

There is dead silence for a moment before everyone breaks out in laughter. Two Halflings help him up and proffer a round of mead.
"Aye, a ferocious beast it was"
"with glowing red eyes"
"and sharp claws"
"aye, musn't forget the claws"
"ye put up a valiant struggle"
"a heroic fight"
"a mythical battle, the bards will sing of your tale"
"we'd a been goners without ye"
"doomed for sure"
"a horrible beast"
"ya saved us all"
"a toast!"
"here here!"
"for the Dwarf who saved us from..."
"dun dun dun!"
"tha squirrel!"

A round of glasses go up, drinks go down, and the party continues.

The creature watches the strange little union of drinks below. Such peculiar creatures these are. There is a familiar whistle from below, and the creature hops down onto the waiting shoulder. "Now now Trill, have you been causing trouble?"

[ChristopherGroves]

((time: 5 years past; location: Darguun))

Rass perched in the canopy, waiting for signs of his prey. It used this trail often and he judged the beast would be hungry soon. Hiding in the ancient ruins, the monster could not remain their forever. Soon the madness would take hold and compel the fiend to slake its thirst.

For now, however, the jungle was quiet … at least as quiet as the jungle ever is. To Rass, even the area around this place – shunned by the native animals who feared the monster – still echoed with dozens of small sounds. The chitter of small creatures, to tiny to be threatened … the clicking and chirping of insects and other vermin … if you were quiet you could hear them build in waves and then slowly decline.

You'd almost forget that below in the ruins of the Dhakanni city lay an abomination.

Thankfully, abominations were his specialty.

The distant sound of padded feet jolted Rass out of his thoughts. Growing quickly louder (to Rass’ sharp ears at least), it was clear that the beast would exit its lair in moments. Shifting slightly, Rass moved out of his more comfortable “waiting” stance and into a more predatory pose. Motionless and poised, he waited in the shadows of the tree.

Emerging from the small opening in the ruins below, the beast sniffed the air cautiously. Sensing nothing it stretched its limbs, working out the stiffness that accompanies sleeping on the cold, stone floor of the ruins. Rass could hear the muscles and sinews in the lupine shape crack and snap in the still of the forest.

Somewhere, Rass mused, in the distant past he and I may share blood.

Shaking its head, the Khyberthrope began to change. It rose on to its hind legs, becoming a two-legged version of its former self. Letting out a shriek of pain, the beast arched its back reaching out with its claws.

Once a simple goblin, this creature had been afflicted with lycanthropy and in an obscene ritual its heart replaced with a dragonshard. Now it served two masters … the sorcerer who held the paired dragonshard used in the ritual and its thirst for blood and violence.

The village elders suspected that one of the Kech Volaar had unleashed the beast to drive them from the area. Their village, a proud Rhukaan Tash clan, were the traditional leaders in the region … something the Kech Volaar now desired. With the new spice routes passing through someone was going to make good coin. Right now that was the Rhukaan Tash, but if this abomination continued to plague their people then the Kech Volaar would sure supplant them.

First the beast, then the master.

Once he had the Kyberthrope’s heart, Rass was certain he could use it to find the beast’s master. First, though, was the matter of removing it from the abomination.

Silently and without warning Rass pounced down from the trees, his claws tearing into the beast seeking its heart.

[Surreal]

((location: the grove, time: still at the party, extend post #8))

Rustling amongst the trees, the tiny scaled creature gave the equivalent of a sigh. Its little furry playmate was gone, distracted by the prospect of tasty things on the ground... then a skirt... then a Dwarf...

It leaps from branch to branch, aided by wings to gain height, its scales shimmering instantly to match the foliage behind it. Barely a sound is made; barely a leaf quivers. Upon reaching the top, the creature pokes its head out of the top and comes face to face (er, light?) with a lantern archon. It whistles quizzically, and the archon responds in kind. Another whistle, another response, as if each were testing the other. The little dragonette flaps into the air and circles around the archon, which in turn circles around the reptile. Another short burst of notes and melody, immediately returned at higher complexity.

The dragon sniffs mightily (as mighty as the tiny thing could muster anyways) and flits back down towards the guests. The archon follows suit, repeating the melody a little more slowly. The dragon ignore the archon, but it continues to follow, repeating over and over. After a minute of this, the dragon stops and turns about to face the archon. The melody is repeated, but with an upturn at the end as if in question. A rustling comes from several nearby trees and another half dozen archons appear. A small crowd is gathering to watch the strange scene from below.

The dragon looks at the archons that have surrounded it, then pokes one of them with its tail. The result is a bright 'ting' like from a bell. Some of the archons move about and bump into each other, producing chords of sound. Others float and glow brighter, producing the same whistling sounds as before. Taking a moment to settle everything down, the dragon huffs its chest out to nearly twice its size and breathes out a stream of pink bubbles that surround the little orchestra.

With a couple swift motions of its claws and tail, it pops a few bubbles in succession to produce the same melody that they've all been repeating. This sets the other archons into motion, weaving and dodging between each other and the bubbles, whistling as they went. The dragon rests in the middle, a conductor of sorts, directing the archons into complex paths and the occasional collision, popping more bubbles at each change of melody and phrase. After a few minutes of this dizzying show, the bubbles have run out and the song comes to an end. There is a happy thrumm emitting from the archons and the dragon, and there is a stunned silence from the crowd who have never seen anything like that before.

A bystander below attempts to whistle the original tune, and in a pop the archons and dragon disappear. The crowd awwwws at the end of the show, and some jokingly throw their napkins at the bystander for scaring the show away.

At a nearby tree, the little furry creature squeaks at the return of its playmate who has reappeared on the other shoulder. "Looks like you found some new friends to play with too, eh Scherzo?" Their master chuckles and scratches them both behind the ear.

At the sound of an approaching partygoer, Scherzo wraps around his master's neck and bites onto his tail, instantly transforming into a silver necklace. Trill in the meantime has quickly disappeared into the folds of his master's clothing. "Good evening Maestro. Why do I get the feeling that our most recent excitements have been your doing?"

The two men share a chuckle and drink, then join the rest of the party.

[Surreal]

((as a followup to post #2 above))

The tracker arrives at Destination 20 and is immediately overwhelmed. The lights, the sounds, the amount of traffic, magical and non-magical movement alike, and the foul twist of contamination from below. Any chance of finding his quarry's scent is beyond his means here. He would have to rely on other methods.

It is a simple matter of finding those in the important looking uniforms and getting them to show him the logbooks. A few buttons glamered as platinum opens more doors than any lockpicking skills every could, and in a few moments the attendants won't even remember he was there. He scans the books and finds a few entries on Madame Crineth, and as a bonus there is a listing of her various traveling companions. She is busy woman however, so there are at least a half dozen locations and groups of people to scout and investigate. He very carefully cuts the pages out and departs, heading for the first coach that travels to the city center.

On the corner is a street urchin selling some newspapers. The tracker hands the wide-eyed boy a gold button and takes a paper while waiting for the coach. Given his string of luck on his last few assignments, his quarry would likely land on the front page before he found them. Hmm, nope, nothing except some blather about the Montinue Stalker (wasn't he some urban legend from his parent's days?). The coach arrives, but just before boarding it the tracker stops and discretely slips the paperboy a real gold piece into his back pocket. He remembers his youth on the streets; a gold piece would be enough to buy some clean clothes and food for a week. Small penance for the deeds he must do.

[Surreal]

((several days ago, beneath the city of Sharn))

Ah, it felt good to be able to run free. Away from prying eyes, he could become a beast once more; strong, healthy and able bodied. He was nearly 10 feet long from tip to tail, resembling a great fiendish wolf with a bat-like face. His fur was a dark tinted blue, with many scars and patches belying his hard-battled life, and streaks of gray betraying his age. His left foreleg, while whole, was an emaciated mirror of the other side, bereft of fur and composed of unnaturally sinewy tendons and bone. Still, in this form he was strong and fast, able to make the run around his home and patrol his route.

There had been so much commotion over the past few days, and the recent intruders only made things worse. Though they seemed to mean no harm and passed through their territory as if they weren't even there, it wouldn't hurt to make sure they were truly gone. He followed their trail as best as he could through the tunnels, moving with remarkable silence for a creature his size. After a few hours however, the scent was long gone, as if they had disappeared into the stone itself.

Disappointed and frustrated, he begins to make his way back home when he hears the distant alarms from his home. Another intruder already? This was not a good day at all. Not wasting any time, he teleports back and notes the alarms but no sound of battle, though the soldiers are out en masse. He sniffs the air and immediately notices the bulettes; probably the same ones that had been digging around in the southern quadrant a few days ago. There is something else in the air, but it is unfamiliar.

Back in his quarters, a harried knock at the door brings forth a nervous lieutenant. "Mm... ma... Master... the bulettes are talking... are making demands... and there is a giant amoung them..."

Talking beasts? A giant? No, this was not a good day at all.

"Very well, take me to them," as he dons his armor and picks up his staff. Still as strong, but much slower, this old goblin has a home to protect.

[Surreal]

((time: the present))
((location: somewhere in Sharn, in a campaign office; an election is coming up))

Sir, we need to decide on the key points for your campaign.

I've told you before: childcare and education.

What about taxes sir?

All the other candidates can squawk until they're blue in the face about taxes, and the rich will complain regardless of how many tax breaks they get. Besides, that's not going to get us votes.

But that's what people care about sir.

No, that's what people think they care about. We need to open their eyes.

... that's not how you win an election sir.

Panhandling to the rich isn't how you run a city either. Think son, think! The war is over, and people instinctively want to go back to the way things were. Problem is, except for the elves and a few grumpy dwarves, no one is old enough to remember what life was like before that. We need to look to the future. We need to rebuild sonny... and what do you need to rebuild?

Um... spirit?

Less wishy-washy son. Think practically.

So to build... you need supplies.. and workers?

*nod*

... and you need money to build...

*not*

... which means... you want... to raise taxes?

There's a smart lad.

May I remind you, sir, that we're trying to win an election here, not get laughed out of the debates.

*Sigh* Come with me a sec boy. Look out the window here. What do you see?

Er... Matteo's grocery, the waterfountain...

The people, look at the people.

Ah... a young couple by the fountain, that appears to be Sir Ellis talking to the grocer...

You're not seeing the people you should be seeing. Look between the buildings there... and over behind the barrels on that side.

The bum and the children sir?

Precisely.

They're not voters sir.

And that's why I'm the one running for office and you're not. That bum out on the street, along with thousands of others like him? Most served in the military, defending our great city. Most of our fathers and forefathers were born into the war machine. Now that we're at peace... this is what happens. Those that served to protect us lay in waste. They've grown up with no other skills than to fight. We need to bring them back into our society. Teach them skills that will make them productive again.

And the children sir?

What time is it?

About an hour past lunch sir.

And where are children usually at right now?

In school?

Correct. And why aren't those children in school?

I don't know sir.

Make an educated guess.

Because they're homeless?

Ah, well, yes that is another problem, but not the one I was addressing. The problem is that the schools are all full, and the situation is only going to get worse.

I'm not sure I follow.

What did all the young men do when the war ended?

Drink?

No. Well, yes that too, but no. Look, you got married just a few months ago didn't you? What do you and your lovely young wife do every evening?

Ah, er... (actually mornings too)... point taken.

Hmph (that explains why you're late all the time), now you're getting it. Our economy is heading towards a recession son. Without a war machine to power it, our land hasn't yet learned to cope without it. We have too many soldiers without a fight to give them purpose, and a baby boom with too many children that have nothing to grow up into. The only way to prevent that is to make everyone, from children to veterans alike, into productive members of society.

I think I understand sir, but you realize that we still have to win the election first?

We don't have to win son. We just have to change how people think.

That's not going to be easy sir.

Change never is. Now let's get to work.

[MittenNinja]

((Time: Mid Winter, 963YK))
((Location: Original H.E.X. Development Lab, Somewhere in Sharn))

The dank, cold room is lit only by the glow of magical runes. Two humans and an aged dwarf stand around a slab on stone which upon lies a roughly humanoid form covered in silver and blue plating. Breath escapes their mouths as visual puffs of gas as the dwarf examines the machine's arm.

The younger of the humans stands shivering, wrapped in his coat.
"Rather fitting that we're finishing up this attempt at this time of year isn't it?"

"Aye."

"You think we'll make some headway with this one Kel?"

"If this works lad, we'll have our first functional prototype. Now shush. This next step takes precision."

The white bearded dwarf closes the hatch on the machine's arm and pulls out a soddering tool of some sort. He quickly moves closer the the experiment's neck and lifts open another panel revealing a mess of tubes and gears. Letting out a nervous sigh, he completes the final step.

Within seconds the experimental forged activates, freezing the slab of stone and the floor surrounding it as a mist sifts out of the vents along it's torso. Beneath some grating near where the forged's mouth would be blinks a faint blue light as a deep baritone mechanical voice breaks the silence.

"Designation 28 operational."

The second man, who had remained silent up until now takes a few steps back and adjusts his lenses. Producing a pad of paper and a quill he speaks calmly.
"Initiate status check 28. Run level Gamma 2 diagnostic."

"Affirmative... Containment fields nominal... Energy pressure levels stable..." Another wave of cold air rushes out from the forged, "Ventilation systems nominal... Vital functions at acceptable levels."

Without lifting his head from his notes, the programmer takes a few steps closer. "Alright 28, let's test your thought process. What occurs once in a minute, twice in a moment, but never in an hour?"

"The alphanumeric symbol 'm'."

"Excellent 28."

Obviously bored with the tests going on, Kel strokes his beard in boredom for a moment before taking a few steps towards the door. "This bibble-babble is makin' me wish I never signed on to do this job. I'm going to step outside for a moment and get some fresh air Alek."

Glancing up from his notes with a look of annoyance, he breaks from his tests. "Very well, but return quickly so we can shut him down after the tests are complete. We still have much research to do before we can mass produce him."

"Aye." Turning his back to the others, Kel begins walking for the door. In one swift motion, the dwarf tumbled to the ground pulling a large pile of tools and raw materials with him. "Blasted ice!... Oh no...." Looking up at what had come down with him was an elemental orb infused with electricity. It struck the ground with a large clack without shattering and then bounced towards the newly created forged. Upon impacting with the forged's adamantine plating, the orb fragmented into a thousand tiny pieces, releasing the energies bound within it.

Swirling vortexes of electricity enveloped Designation 28, enraging the elemental bound within him. "Containment fields unstable... Emergency venting protocol initiating.

"Oh shi...." The young apprentice's voice was cut off by the crackle of ice forming around his body, completely enveloping him as frost covered the entirety of the lab.

"Initiating protocol epilson del...del...del..."
The whirring of gears within D28 hummed as his body convulsed. His arms reached out grabbing at the closest thing to him, finding the neck of Alek and crushing it.

Kel, still lying on the frozen ground, looks on in awe. "By the gods, what have we done..."

Within moments an adamantine fist found the dwarfs fragile throat.

[Incendius]

((Time: 1000 YK))
((Location, a back alley in the capital of Karrnath))

This has to be precise. Strategic. We need to surprise them. We need to move fast, strike out an destroy them before they realize what is happening." A voice rang out from under the cover of darkness, resounding off the walls of the overshadowed alleyway. The barest sliver of moonlight traced its path into the alley, only able to outline the shadows of those gathered therein.

"Now, I need to cover one thing above all. There is going to be one major threat, the supposed leader that my recconnassaince has worked on. The so callled 'Bat' that those under interrogation have let loose and been afraid of. I personally suspect it is a reference to the type of undead commonly known as a vampire, a bottomless feeder of blood such that the vampire bat is named for it, but I have been known to be wrong." The voice lectured again, speaking slowly and surely.

At these last words, a slight shuffling of feet was heard, and a whisper break the momentary silence. "You mean like that time you mistook the Riedran ambassador for a woman? Twice?" Several chuckles resulted form this remark.

A moment later, the sound of metal greaves impacting upon stone pavement clicked through the air twice in rapid succession, silencing the laughter. "Yes, yes, get your laughter at my inadaquacies out now, because this is the last point of hilarity in the operation. I'm normally a laid back guy, you all know this, but this is the culmination of several months of preparations, and I don't want us to die against these, they aren't your run of the mill small fodder. I've fought several of them, and if we don't watch ourselves, the Fang strike force might just yet find it self divorced from the wolf, permanently."

"Now then, whatever or whomever the leader is, let me handle it. Under no circumstances should you engage it at anything but a distance. This being apparently terrifies the most stalwart of the Claw, and that is rare, especially for the caliber we are dealing with. Support me at range if possible when I engage it, but your main priority is going to be dealing with, and making sure none of the Emerald Claw get away." The voice intoned again, emphasizing many of the words to make his point.

The voice stopped for a few moments to let this all sink in befoer starting up, "We've all fought together before uncountable times, we know each other better then we would know our siblings. I don't need to tell you all how to fight, I don't need to tell you all how to handle yourselves. We all have gone over the plan many a time, and we all know our roles. I just have one last thing to say before we mount our assault, one last thing before we go into a battle where we might not see each other in this world ever again."

"It wasn't a mistake."

"NOW LETS MOVE OUT, GO, GO, GO" The voice shouted, the soft whirl of a shadowy form in the alleyway, a cloak fluttering in the wind, and again the sounds of metal greaves against cobblestones, but this time in a flat out run, and soon this noise was joined by dozens of others of similar, and different kinds.