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  #166  
Old Jan 27th, 2023, 08:27 PM
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Mazuli Sul
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Batoyangi’s cry echoes through the giant chamber that houses the labyrinth city. The mournful tone of shared pain over homeland lost settles over the undead minotaurs like a blanket, thicker and heavier than the mists that have surrounded them.

Then there is silence, but for Zenda’s heavy breathing after the exertion of her dance.

None of the skeletal bull-folk move. They stand like silent sentries, waiting. Kazimir believes that the obscuring mist recedes. Slowly at first, but then he is certain that he can see ranks of undead that were not visible moments before. A light, its source hidden behind the white plaster of the buildings, grows in the distance. Soft, silvery light that gives at least the lumenous approximation of a full moon to this eternal purgatory.

In that direction, the furthest ranks of minotaurs seem to shuffle, their great horns shifting to either side like the wake of a hand trailed in the water. Slowly, something approaches from within their midst.

Finally, the closest ranks of skeletons part, revealing the stoops, aged form of the minotaur priestess, Arous-ok-Hebb. Her staff lightly strikes the once-animated flagstone and her cloven hooves scrape softly as she walks toward the group of the living. Her eyes are white and sightless, but somehow she seems to take in the scene as she stops just before she would tread upon Azar’s fresco of the bull. Turning to the woman, she reaches out and places a gnarled hand on Azar’s chest. "Some wounds are deep, and not easily borne." The young spy turned vengeful sorceress suddenly feels a flare of power from the old cow’s fingers. She feels the magic course through her, twisting like a soul amongst the corridors and halls and chambers within her chest. Azar gasps as the power rushes past her heart, deeper, into her lungs. It takes hold of the rotting wind that has taken up residence at the center of her body labyrinth! Then, as the priestess suddenly pulls her hand away, the foulness is ripped from her with force! "Others…can be managed with a little faith."

A thin smile reveals worn, square teeth. "His pain lessens." She steps around the fresco, brushing up against Batoyangi. "His anger is turned." Arous laughs openly and does an awkward twirl around Zenda. She comes to a stop directly before Nae’laa, her cloudy eyes downturned, searching for the short woman born of the rocky deserts. All traces of mirth disappear from the aged priestess, steward of Mazuli Sul. "The Poet’s pain increases. But your words are a balm to his burns."

She lingers there, seeming to feel the pain of her strange patron, reveling in it. But there is also a contentness in her posture, her palms open, her back straighter than it was.

Arous finally moves on, towards Vrakiras. She looks so small next to the powerful bull, but the bosun bows his head. "Son of Roshgazi. May your herd thunder to glory." She then walks beyond them all, toward the opposing ranks of skeletal minotaurs. They part at her approach. Nodding, Vrakiras follows her. Captain del Magrina gives Zenda a look, then follows as well. Milkherem gives a little tug on Kazimir’s tousled hair. "Play us some more of that lute as we walk, eh?"

It is a strange procession through the alleys and avenues of Mazuli Sul. Some of the skeletal guardians recede, but others accompany the party of raiders as they follow Arous-ok-Hebb through the underworld shadow of a once great empire. They mostly walk in silence, but occasionally the priestess whispers some word to Vrakiras, who nods thoughtfully.

They approach a graveyard, the monuments bearing inscriptions and the occasional set of stone horns. The large iron gate is open, and the group enters, leaving their skeletal escort behind. Arous walks the winding path through the cemetery toward a small cathedral that dominates the grounds. Arched, stained glass windows depict the moon and the maze and the herd in varying forms. She climbs the shallow stairs, bowing her head in silent prayer for a moment, then pushes open a great, iron-bounded door with ease.

The priestess leads them inside. No benches or pews are present, but the large chamber was obviously used for worship, or its living echo was at one point. A simple altar stands upon a stone dais. Milkherem makes the sign of the open door, swinging his hand on the hinge of his wrist from his chest. Looking around, Kaz sees no other iconography of the Portal Lord, but his bull friend seems content.

Arous leads them to the right, into a doorless hallway. At the end of the hall, spiral stairs wind down into the ground. There is light here. Sourceless and steady, but only close by and spreading into the darkness as the group descends in single file. Cold, rough-hewn stone greets them. Winding corridors filled with niches, each long enough and wide enough to hold a minotaur body. The niches are empty, but most show signs of having once been habited; a scrap of shroud or a worn scrap of parchment or vellum bearing prayers.

In true minotaur fashion, the crypt is a labyrinth of its own. Junctions split off at varying intervals and with no discernible pattern. But, Vrakiras and Milkherem both seem quite comfortable with their path. Sensing Batoyangi’s trepidation at the quarters, the bosun gives the gnoll a subtle nod of confidence at his ability to retrace their path. "I do not think these passages will reform in our wake like the streets above, my friend. Somehow, this feels more…solid." he says quietly. Then, somewhat formally, he adds, "I appreciate you lending your strength to the cause of my people."

They arrive at a door, alone at the end of a long, stone hall. Arous yields her position at the head of the procession. "The palace grounds of Chamiras, the City of Honored Dead, lie beyond," she says, gesturing at the door with the head of her staff. "May each of your steps bring some hope and relief to our people. Should any of you fall this night, your spirit will be welcome among the Eternal Herd."

Approaching the door, Zenda finds it featureless but for a small pedal. Stepping upon the pedal, she can hear metal grinding upon stone within. There is a sudden release of a latch and the door swings open, revealing a small burial chamber, similar to the crypts they are leaving, but less ancient. Across the small chamber, a flight of stairs leads up. Dim starlight filters down from the upper floor.

 


At the top of the stairs, Zenda emerges inside a glass building. Stone benches are arrayed in a circular pattern. The ceiling above is a glass-encased dome, arches of stone supporting the panes. All around is lush, verdant growth. Ferns and vines wind their way around the walls from their soilbox perches. Small, flowered bushes release their fragrance into the warm night air. The sound of spilling water comes from several directions, and in varying intensity.

Peering out of one of the panes, Nae’laa sees a moonless night, dark save for flickering lanterns dotting the grounds of a large, landscaped garden. To the east, a reflecting pool ripples with the splashing of a fountain. To the south, a tall hedge mostly obscures the view. But in the distance, silhouetted against the night, the governor’s palace of Chamiras looms large over all.

A grunting sound nearby startles Azar. Stepping out from the hedges that disappear into a maze, an enormous, hugely-muscled kobold stretches his muscles in the torchlight. The creature’s mouth opens wide, the scaly snout seeming to snarl. But then Azar sees that it is only yawning. A sentry, tired and stiff in the night.

Captain del Magrina crouches down amongst the plants within the garden house. Barely audible, he whispers to them all, "We must not raise the alarm. Our only advantage lies in our unusual manner of entry and the fact that our presence is not known. Aarush Vedula would burn us all in our boots." Glancing at Kaz he says, "...or boot." He looks to all of them, ending with Zenda. Holding her gaze he asks, "What do you suggest?"

 


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  #167  
Old Jan 28th, 2023, 11:26 AM
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"What are you asking her for?" Azar growled, her voice still rough from the after-effects of whatever affliction had befouled her lungs. "The time for dancing is over."

As she spoke she transformed, her features distorting, her stature increasing, until a gold dragonborn officer with a red sash over his glistening breastplate stood before them.

"How do I look?" she asked, and she felt like the gravelly quality from her recent brush with plague lent an extra touch of authenticity to her voice. "I will lure the guard in here, be ready to surprise him."

She didn’t wait for an acknowledgment, the fire in her belly was burning bright and she needed to move, to act! She strode confidently out into the night and before the guard had even turned around at the sound of her footsteps she was barking orders in Mharoti.

"YOU! Who is your packmaster? Some females have slipped past while you dozed and laid their eggs! This is NOT a designated hatchery!"

She had closed to within feet of the guard now, apparently towering over him.

"Get in there and start moving them now! I’ll find your pack and send them to help, hopefully we can have this mess sorted out before the overlord finds out about it!"

 

 
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  #168  
Old Jan 28th, 2023, 01:12 PM
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Palace of Palms Garden
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The bleary-eyed sentry straightens immediately at Azar’s husky voice. He looks at her in her gold-scaled form and immediately averts his eyes. The creature is bigger and bulkier than her own adopted form, but Azar knows that it is still a kobold, and socially inferior to a golden dragonborn officer by many steps.

"Packmaster? Erm…I didn’t see any…" Confusion plays across his reptilian features. But contrition to a perceived superior wins out. "Yes…erm…captain," he mumbles as he follows Azar to the garden house. "I’ll clear them brooders out."
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Old Jan 29th, 2023, 02:10 AM
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And so the jackals, the interlopers, those who would strike a blow against the great tyrants were allowed passage by the lost and the broken. Bato did not speak again for quite sometime, his eyes beady and predatory once more, only grunting in acknowledgement of the bosun's thanks while they made their way through the ruins below.

Soon they had emerged a crypt, beneath a building of glass that was filled with such fragrences that it made Bato's nostrils itch. It was hard to believe that their true mission had not begun yet begun, that the obstacles they faced had only been to arrive. But arrive they had and Bato was eager to begin their work. He had some experience with skullduggery, having had to stalk prey through alleyways and impart lessons to those who would had incurred the wrath of his former (now dead) master.

The she-snake, her illness lifted by the touch of that old heifer, worked her illusive magic and lured a guard into the greenhouse. The scaled guard marched in, his senses dulled by boredom and routine. Waiting for him were three large shadows, as large as him perhaps. Two bulls and a great gnoll, who each surged forward. They grabbed his limbs, a great furred arm made to clamp over his throat to prevent a shriek and the forced of all three worked together to drag him away to some place he could not see.


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Old Jan 31st, 2023, 01:09 PM
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It was sorta funny, in a way, that Kazimir would find himself in the position of interrogator rather than the familiar interrogatee. But he had volunteered, in no small part cuz Azar, that lucky lass who found her strength again thanks to his wiles and the seer’s miracles, volunteered to fool the sleepy-eyed guard with her masterful skills of disguise. And Kazimir, who was quick to make known his ‘experience’ in shakedowns, figured it was easy enough thing to do to play the part of the thugs who so often parted from him both tooth and coin. After all, it was about weaving the right lies, wasn’t it? No man was better than he at that!

So he waited for the unlucky lad to be dragged in, and thrown down by the mighty bulls and the mightier Batoyangi. Their rough and burly nature no doubt instilling the right kind of fear in the kobold.

“It yer lucky day, lad,” Kazimir stepped out from the dark, blue-tinted hands palmed together in mock prayer as he switched to the Mharoti tongue, “M’boys are feelin’ generous today. They’ll let you and I talk. Come ta an understandin’, y’see, where you give me the information I want, and you don’t end up becomin’ my big friend there’s,” he pointed to Batoyangi whose eyes gleaned hungrily in the dark, “chew toy, or her,” he thumbed back at Red, her blades scraping so sadistically together, they’d make a masochist sing, “freshly skinned scaled sword sheath. Yer choice, mate.”

Then Kazimir smiled his squinty-eyed smile, leaning down to the kobold’s eye level, “Now why don’t we be pals, and you tell us where the gov’nr is, aye?”

The kobold guard stiffened at first. Seemed to take Kazimir’s words in slowly, savoring every little threat that was laid before him, all subtle-like. But just as Kazimir thought the lad was about to crack, he snarled his lips back, and spat in Kazimir’s face.

“You are all Jambuka!!” He wriggler hotly in Batoyangi’s hold, his eyes betraying his fear. “I’ll never tell you where our prisoner is because you’ll never make it past the scouts on the roof! Filthy soft-hides!”

Kazimir bristled underneath the pelt of spit on his face, and very dryly, very stiffly, flung it off his face with the back of his hand. “And your mother dropped you as an egg, you toe-sucking frog-humper. But you don’t see me judging you for that!”

The kobold hissed back at Kazimir, clearly more afraid of his masters than the likes of him. Which was fine. Kazimir still got something outta the lad, even if the guard didn’t realize it himself.

He walked back towards the others, wiping the remainder of the spit on Vrakiras’ tunic as he smugly said, “ See? Told yous lot I would have him singing us truths, one way or another.”
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  #171  
Old Jan 31st, 2023, 02:05 PM
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Zenda, Swordswoman of Ishadia
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'What are you asking her for? The time for dancing is over.' Zenda held del Magrina's gaze a moment longer, quirking a sardonic eyebrow at Azar's antics. They had all seen her at her lowest, broken, asking to be left behind, forgotten. The Mharoti witch would never forget that feeling, never forgive them for seeing her like that... and Zenda would never forget it either. For now she was content to take a step back and let the 'scaled cow' bluster her way to center stage. But Azar was foolish to think the dance was over. The last notes of the overture still lingered, and only now had the troupe taken their place in the spotlight. From here on out, the steps would get more complicated, like pieces on a board, playing to different tunes, weaving in and out of each other's paths.

As the swordswoman waited for her counterpart's return, she took stock of the gathering here in the garden house. She felt reasonably comfortable that the minotaur sailors were dancing to the same tune that played in her heart. They understood loss. They understood war. The captain stood with his crew, loyal... but did he truly comprehend what it meant to stand against the dragons? Then there were the others. Bato was a killer, death was second nature to him. But the rest? Where did Azar's loyalties truly lie? Would Kazimir be able to stomach the hard choices they would face this night? And Nae'laa... an enigma as yet closed to Zenda's discerning gaze.

Her ruminations were broken as a golden scaled officer strode into the building, followed closely by their chosen victim. The Constrictor moved quickly, befitting his name, enveloping the guard in long hairy arms and pinning him down with the assistance of two burly sailors.

There was a brief pause, silence broken only by the scuffling sound of a scaled prisoner being dragged back down the stairs they had just ascended. Would Azar continue to claim her prerogative? But instead it was the (newly reveal half) elf who stepped forward. Smirking slightly in anticipation, Zenda found herself a perch to watch how this would play out. Ostentatiously sharpening a blade in the background, she watched as Kazimir tried to interrogate the kobold. Swollen muscles bulged outwards as it struggled against its restraints, but those same muscles choked out anything resembling intelligent thought.

Perhaps the soft boy's florid style would work on the criminals and low-lifes he was used to dealing with. People with things left to lose. But clearly Kaz wasn't accustomed to dealing with fanatics. 'You are all Jambuka!!' Zenda nodded knowingly as blind, unthinking fervor took hold of their guest. That was to be expected. Ah well, the best inquisitors in all of Ishadia, true professionals, even they could have trouble extracting anything resembling useful information from such beasts... 'You’ll never make it past the scouts on the roof!'

The swordswoman blinked for a moment. Had... had this actually worked? She shook her head in disbelief. Send an idiot to catch an idiot? An interesting tactic she would have to suggest to the Prophet in her next report. She patted the blue-skinned fool on the shoulder, offering him a rare smile. "Good work, Kaz."

Then she turned her attention towards the squirming wyrm, sighing slightly. She still hated him and all his ilk, of course. But she could afford to be gracious in victory... after all, this particular scalekin would never trouble her again. They could simply not afford to leave loose ends behind them as they delved deeper into this compound. Zenda knelt down close to the beast's head. "May you find peace in death, serving your masters..." Then she calmly plunged a blade into his right eye socket, holding it there until the jerking and spasms stopped. "...I'll be sending them to join you shortly."

Rising to her feet silently, she addressed the room. "How shall we approach this? Attempt to evade these scouts? Or find a way up and deal with them head on?"

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Old Jan 31st, 2023, 07:21 PM
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Palace of Palms groundsVrakiras nods solemnly as he looks down upon the overly-muscled kobold as it twitches its last. "It begins," he says. "The long road to liberation will be paved with many such."

Batoyangi pokes his head out the garden house door, sniffing in the darkness. There is little wind, but thankfully what there is blows from the south. He can smell the water splashing in the fountains. And the distinctive smell of fire masks much. There is the flame of the torches, but beneath that Bato can smell a different kind of fire, deeper and stronger, but older and distant. The powerful gnoll can smell the familiar reptilian musk on the air. Many sources of that smell, some civilized and some bestial.

Batoyangi’s ears perk up, like they used to on the grassy plains far to the south. So many dangers. Both remembered and current. Beyond the splashing water, there is the occasional shifting of something large to the southeast, possibly coming from the detached stable. Further away, the unmistakable scrape of claws on stone or tile barely makes it to his ears.

Finally, relying on the least of his senses, though still powerful, Batoyangi widens his eyes and welcomes in the scant light. Using his hand to block the closest of the torches, Bato peers beyond, searching, half predator and half prey. Then he sees the movement! Atop the main palace building to the south! Something large moves on the roof, slowly shifting its bulk as it moves across the tiles toward…another one! Wyverns! Armored wyverns. They patrol the rooftop in dark silence, the helmed heads of their riders scanning the perimeter of the grounds.

 



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Old Feb 5th, 2023, 10:05 AM
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Azar watched impassively as Zenda ended the life of their kobold prisoner.

"How shall we approach this?" the dancer asked, obviously completely unaffected by the deed she had just committed. "Attempt to evade these scouts? Or find a way up and deal with them head on?"

It was a good question, and one which Azar was ill-equipped to answer. She had always worked alone and so had been able to avoid attention relatively easily. Covertly moving a group this large, however, could prove difficult.

Fortunately Batoyangi proved himself an effective scout.

"Wyverns?!" Azar hissed in response to his report. "We will need cover then, or some kind of distraction."

She looked at the others, for once not sure how to proceed. It was so much easier to work alone!

"I will scout ahead," she said, resolving to allow the others to decide for themselves how best their skills should be used. "If I find anything I will contact you magically."

Still in the guise of a Mharoti officer she strode out of their little enclave and into the night, walking purposefully towards the palace as though she had important business there.

 

 
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Old Feb 8th, 2023, 12:22 AM
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Bato grunted as the she-snake, still in her guise, moved off to scout further. He doubted she would find anything he had not already seen, but did not stop her leaving. His beady eyes were cast skyward, tracing grim lines across the edges of nearby rooftops. "Bato see two...more maybe." For now, no others manifested, but two was enough to be an issue. Even he couldn't fight off a whole building's worth of fighters.

"Need smoke...take their eyes away."


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Old Feb 10th, 2023, 11:47 AM
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Palace Grounds, ChamirasConfidently, Azar strides out of the garden house and toward the shallow stone steps leading toward the great palace. The calm beauty of the place is a marked contrast to the rest of their night so far. Despite her heavy dragonborn appearance, her own slight frame makes virtually no noise as she steps along the edge of the fountain.

Rounding the hedge, she ascends the few steps to the upper lawn. To the side, from the stables, Azar hears the scrabbled clawing of a heavy creature. A reptilian growl confirms her suspicions. Riding lizards. In Harkesh, she had seen the regimental parades pass down the Golden Promenade through the Triumph Gate. The riding lizards always seemed particularly vicious, snapping at any who got too close. One mottled-brown specimen had even turned on another of the mounts with such ferocity during the parade, it’s rider had been forced to dispatch the mad beast while mounted by plunging her sword into the base of its skull. Yes, even amongst their prideful compatriots, the cavalry commanded a certain distinct respect.

But now, beneath her illusion, Azar’s human eyes can just now see the large, winged shapes on the rooftop. She continues across the lawn toward the patio steps surrounding the palace. The rooftop sentries seem not to have noticed her yet. But she is approaching a line of torchlight at the perimeter of the patio.

 
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Old Feb 14th, 2023, 04:02 PM
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Everything happened so fast and before she knew it there was a kobold before her.... then, before she attempted her own version of interrogation... there wasn't. Not a love one anyways. So much for not leaving a trail of bodies.

Azar was off again, traipsing through the enemy territory like it was nothing. She couldn't help but admire her bravery even as she shielded those who remained from prying eyes.

"By all means," she prompted, gesturing ahead to one of her other, more adventurous companions



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Old Feb 21st, 2023, 06:47 PM
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With the cover of the fog in place, Bato scooped up Kazimir first in his powerful, furred arms, despite the blue one's indignant protests and ran through the fog, judging the distance by his memory and leapt, feeling the damp air race across his snout as he jumped up and over the perimeter wall.

He would jump back over and repeat this process as many times as necessary, hoping to get everyone over the wall and deeper into the complex before any guards came to investigate.


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Old Feb 22nd, 2023, 01:17 PM
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’Good work, Kaz.’ Those heavenly words repeated over and over in his head. ’Good work, Kaz.’ Mmn! Praise be the dumb little egg-cracker who spat in his face. At long last, Red had said his name. Complimented him on his fine work. Smiled at him. Oh, what heavenly radiance that smile was, too– it was worth far more to Kazimir than the gentle touch she laid upon his shoulder, even though that was just as sweet as light’s first break. He woulda said he coulda have died happy here and now, but his trickster masters didn’t need the extra motivation to make a fool of him. Instead he’d keep that little treasure tucked away for when the nights were lonely, and his heart possessed by darker spirits.

"Happy to serve," he crooned, Kazimir eager to earn a few more praises from her, right up until she went and gutted the poor bastard he swore they’d spare.

His jaw clenched tight at the sight of the guard’s limp fall. The air richer from his spilled blood. "I thought we…I thought we was gonna spare the poor sod." Kazimir couldn’t stop himself from blurting that out. He was no stranger to violence– you don’t get where he was without having your fair share of it– but that was. That was murder. Clean, quick, and thoughtless murder.

It didn’t sit right with Kazimir. It didn’t feel right. But none of the others seemed to react with the same discomfort as him. Was it just old hat to them? …and if it was, who they were exactly? These strangers from all walks of land– why was taking a life just as easy as sparing one like his? He almost felt foolish he didn’t ask more questions, back when they were on the ship. and the mood was brighter and friendlier with the other minotaurs. What secrets would they have spilled about the people he was about to follow into the dark.

’No matter now. You are in it deep, Kazimir, and there ain’t no getting out without them.’ Still, he could at least offer a bit of kindness to the fallen guard. He didn’t know the proper funerary arrangements for blokes who bowed to dragons, but let’s face it, the feller was dead, he couldn’t afford to be picky on his road to Helheim. As Azar offered to venture back out, which was in its own right courageous and worthy of song, Kazimir bent down to the body, tucking a pair of coins into his pocket so he could bribe his way to wherever he needed to go. "Aye, let ‘em know you were fooled by Loki’s finest. That outta garner ya some sympathy, lad."

And with that, it was back to business.

Walking out into the dark, with wyverns and guards and Azar, there were all manner of threats out there that Kazimir wasn’t too keen to face alone. He wondered for a bit if he outta pull another trick out of his own proverbial sleeve, but that was before the Spooky Witch, who already piqued Kazimir’s interest from her poetic soul, bewitched the elements once more.

A fog fell upon the world like a veil of white. Swallowing up the path ahead with a slow, twist of milky white tendrils. Kazimir whistled. "Oh, you are gonna have to teach me that one, lass. You wouldn’t believe how much easier my life woulda been if I had that up my arrrrrsseeee–" He was gonna say arsenal, big word, impressive word, but so help him, Batoyangi scooped him up like a wee babe before he could even finish. And oh, Batoyangi was right about him squirming and cussing, because these were not the arms he wished to be held in!

Don’t get him wrong. They were strong arms. He felt weightless as Batoyangi rushed through the fog. His steps frighteningly light despite the power that was blessed within the mad dog. But he carried Kazimir like a sack of potatoes– he felt every bump! Every tussle! And if he was honest, he was gonna be sick. Especially when Batoyangi when braced against the ground, his body shifting low before he surged upward with all the speed and grace of a spear flung from Valkyrie’s hand. Kazimir heard the air whip around him. Felt it bite his face and tear at his clothes. And for a brief moment, a very, very brief moment, he thought that damn dog truly learned to fly.

Kazimir clutched his eyes shut and they stayed shut until Batoyangi nudged him to let go. The pair now standing safely on the other side of the wall. Kazimir deposited himself onto the ground. Heart long gone from his chest. He didn’t know where it was– for all he knew, it was miles back– but he clutched his chest all the same, acting as if he was dying. "Y-you ever do that again without giving a man a proper warning, then I am… I am…oh gods... I am gonna…" He pointed exhaustedly at Batoyangi, "I am gonna give you…a stern talking. Whew."

That said, where in the Nine Realms were they now?



 
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Last edited by Strangemund; Feb 22nd, 2023 at 04:19 PM.
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  #179  
Old Mar 3rd, 2023, 01:00 PM
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InfiltrationMilkherem looks to Vrakiras with excitement as Batoyangi disappears over the wall with his squirming cargo. Both of them move to follow, stepping out into the dark night, now partially obscured by mist.

They both come to a sudden stop in the wake of Batoyangi’s supernatural leap over the high wall. The bosun surveys the wall for a moment, then braces himself between it and the stone frame of the garden house. Milkherem pushes up next to him and offers his hands in a cradle position for his fellow bull to step into. They both grunt with effort. Milkherem strains under the weight of Vrakiras, but his powerful arms flex inexorably upward.

Finally, Vrakiras is able to grab a branch of the tree that straddles the perimeter wall. He pulls himself higher, his hooves scraping against the bark as he scrabbles toward the top of the wall. His bovine snout puffing with effort, he is able to throw his arm and leg over, laying flat across the top to keep his profile low. The mists, darkness and foliage obscure him, but there is no point in being careless.

The bosun pulls a length of rope from his satchel. He lets it down in even measure on the inside and outside of the wall, before tying the middle to a thick branch with a knot worthy of a practiced sailor. He then disappears onto the other side of the wall.

Milkherem motions to his captain, who braces himself against the wall and uses the rope to pull himself up and over. Then, giving a nod to Zenda and Nae’laa, Milkerem himself begins the ascent. He is up and over in moment, cautiously following the others south behind the cover of the wall.

 



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Old Mar 10th, 2023, 11:37 AM
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For a moment there Azar had heard something, a patting of feet, a soft huff of breath, and she had tensed, sure that somebody was about to demand that she identify herself… but nothing had followed other than another soft exhale a few moments later. She turned to her right, peering into the darkness, but even the magical glasses that she wore could not help her to find the source of the sounds.

Batoyangi, she surmised after a few moments thought. The gnoll was no doubt making his own approach, impatient with the more considered actions of the others. Good. But how best should she support him?

Her role was now clear, with her disguise she could be the perfect distraction.

Above her a thick fog had begun to form so she felt confident that the wyverns above would not be able to see any suspicious movements that she made, so she turned and pointed back the way that she had come, hoping to get a message through to the others.

"Stay to the right," she whispered, the spell carrying the words to whoever was left behind. "I will draw the guards away."

She strode purposefully towards the sounds of the riding lizards which she had heard earlier, pausing at the archway which lead to their enclosure so that she could see if anybody was stationed inside.

"Who's there?" she barked in draconic, hoping to keep any enemies off balance. "Where is the guard who should be stationed in the grounds?"

 

 
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Last edited by Lazer; Mar 10th, 2023 at 06:05 PM.
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