Haz

Haz was completely at a loss. When the woman cried out however, his mind was made up.
"What is she saying? Probably delusional from pain and bloodloss. Still, she's conscious, so the wound must look worse than it actually is. Alright then, the priest can handle it."

"You help the woman, I'll aid the man!" He yelled at Rothan as he dashed the short distance to where Dralas and the Hunger where fighting on the ground. As it was, both man and monster were evenly matched limb for limb, but Haz doubted that the Dark Elf had an answer to the thing's acidic tongue. Just by pinning the beast to the floor, he would not be able to achieve victory.
"Pull your head back, Elf!" The Argonian shouted at Dralas, hoping that the man would take the hint and give him a clear shot at the Hunger's skull.

Still, there was no time to wait for a response, so Haz swung the stool down, albeit slightly slower than he would have if there was only the Hunger to worry about. Hopefully he would hit the right target and hopefully he would stun it.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Oct 19 2009, 06:40 PM

Dralas

Dralas did as urged and leaned backwards, just quickly enough to allow the stool to pass over him. Right into the daedra's skull.

With the danger gone, he scanned the ground for Rianne's bag. He snatched up the leaves and handed them to Rothan.

"Use these. I think they can help her," he explained.

Next he found his abandoned shortsword. The battle wasn't quite over.

OOC: EDIT: i wrote arrow instead of stool for whatever reason. sorry.

This post has been edited by Dantrag: Oct 21 2009, 09:01 PM

OOC: What killed the daerda? I thought Haz was going to lamp it with a stool.

Rothan

Rothan dropped to Rianne's side as Haz attacked the hunger. She was bleeding heavily and saying something about green leaves. He ignored her and looked at where the hunger had bitten her. The wound looked messy and blood poured from it. He tore back the shirt, I need water to wash this.... There was none. He put his hands against it and tried a healing spell but he had spent most of his magic on the guard and it was weak but he hadn't the energy to try again so he resorted to holding the wound shut.

There was a crash behind him and he saw the hunger fall with its head mangled. The ashlander man, Dralas if Rothan remembered correctly, passed him some leaves and said they might help. He looked at them critically, they were heart-shaped and not an ingredient he recognised but it was all he had. He thought for a moment, he had no idea of how to apply them. A tea? A paste? Or was it more subtle - burning or needing distillation? No, he thought, the ashlander man had known so it would be simple. And there was no chance of tea so paste would have to do. He moved so only one hadn held the wound shut and picked up a small piece of shattered pottery in the other and began crushing the leaves. Once the paste was smooth enough he took his hand off the wound. More blood dribbled out but he smeared the paste in as best he could then tried another spell.

Haz

Haz grinned from behind his mask at the sound of wood hitting starved flesh and bone. He'd almost missed, but the Dark Elf's reflexes had been excellent and prevented any accidents. The Ashlander did not wait to finish it off with the dagger he'd been reaching for, instead diving for some sort of bag from which he procured some sort of herbal cure that the Argonian did not recognize.

Haz smacked the stool two more times into the Hunger's body for good measure, kicked it once and then sat down on the bloodied stool. He kept an eye on the fighting, but did not try to join in. As far as he was concerned, he'd cracked enough skulls for today.
"Quite sturdy furniture, and quite lethal. Just what I needed."

"I'm no healer, so I'll let you treat the wound till we can carry her outside." He said in Rothan's direction. Sitting so close to a battlefield, he didn't dare take his eyes off the action for a moment.

Rianne

The incredible pain diminished quite a bit as Rothan rubbed the paste of green leaves into her wound. She was able to focus on other things than her tormented body.

"Ahh, thank you" she said to him, trying one of her more attractive smiles on him. Then she looked around, looked for Dralas...

"Dralas? are you ok?" She stayed lying down for a bit, no hurry, they were all there, and if necessary she would manage to cast her spell again...at least that's what she thought.


She looked at the figure sitting on the bloodied stool...

"Impressive " she smiled

Haz

Haz turned away from the fighting. It seemed that the woman had regained most of her wits. While he wasn't sure if she was still delusional or not, he thought it might be safe enough to move her now. She was looking at him and smiling, which unnerved him quite a bit.
"Can she see my face? No, I'm certain my eyes are hidden by the shadows of my hood. I should be safe." He thought, subconsciously bowing his head.

"Alright, I'd say I toss the lady onto my back and we get out of here like a pack of scared young...whatevers. I don't like this place one bit." He said, only barely managing to catch himself from naming a distinctly non-native species of animal.

He glanced back at the fighting again. Almost all of the Daedra had been either slain or forced back by now and it looked as if the Armigers were going to achieve a victory, albeit a costly one. However, that would only be if the black armoured stranger would fall in the next few moments. And looking at the growing number of corpses around him, Haz seriously doubted they would be so fortunate.
"Quick, before the spiked one comes for us." He added urgently, leaping up from the stool which tipped over on the floor with a loud clatter.

Rothan

Rothan nodded, "I'd rather not risk moving her but given the circumstances... Yes it would be safer for us all." He went to take Rianne's legs, "Get her arms," he said, "I'll see if I can get a potion, or at least some ingredients, outside."

The fight was dying down and looked like it would be over before he would finish tending the ashlander woman's wound. Rothan was secretly glad he wouldn't have to enter the ruin again.

Rianne

Rianne whined silently as they lifted her. She was by no meand fully healed and the pain was still there. However she realised they had to get out of there....

"Dralas!, please see to him..where is he? Is he okay?" She was truly concerned

Haz

Haz looked over his shoulder. Dralas, no doubt the man who'd fought the Hunger.
"Hey! We're leaving! Don't get left behind!" He shouted at the Dunmer, before picking up Rianne with the priest's help.
"The man is alive and standing. Worry for your own sake instead of his." He rasped to the woman as they carried her towards the stairs, as fast as they dared.
"No really, why did I even bother to warn him? Just let him rush into the thick of battle while we flee. It would be one thorn out of my side if he died."

Khallet

Khallet smiled a rabid grin of pure, bloodthirsty joy as his blade slammed home on the ordinator's neck, oblivion-forged steel ripping through sinew and bone. For a moment, the corpse stood there, limp as a half-stuffed ragdoll, before falling to the ground, mace clattering from useless, dead fingers.

Khallet surveyed the scene in front of him, looking for-

The impact was so sudden, so hard, he barely knew what was happening until he was bowled to the ground, his sabre skittering away across the floor.

Almost immediately he scrambled to his feet, just in time to see a large, thick bladed knife descend towards his throat. Acting purely on instinct, he grabbed, somehow managing to stop the descending edge. He looked up, into the eyes of an Imperial, a young one. Hate burned within them, some kind of maddened frenzy that he had not seen outside of the most bloodlust fueled worshippers of Boethia, or his own master.

Khallet twisted and loosened his grip, sending the young man tumbling away. He scrambled towards his own sabre, hoping to finish the fight; the man was unarmoured, and either unprepared for a fight, a master of the blade or a fool. Either way, he would die.

But first, Khallet had more pressing issues to deal with. He scrambled to his knees, reaching out for his sabre. He stretched forward, fingers closing around the hilt.

He screamed in agony as an armoured boot slammed down on his wrist, bone cracking. Khallet gasped, vision blurring in pain. Instinctively, he looked up, to see a dunmer snarling back at him, blade ready to slam down into his heart.

He scrabbled with his free hand for something, anything, sweaty blood coated fingers slipping over the ground. Suddenly found the handle of the ordinator's mace, his fingers closing over its smooth, ebony handle.

He swung upwards wildly, the heavy weapon moving slowly under his sudden weak strength, but it was enough. It slammed into the dunmer's hand, the warrior giving a yell of pain and instinctively stumbling away.

Khallet dragged himself to his feet, mace in his good hand, black blood dripping from his shattered wrist. But he knew he was beaten. He was fighting with his weak hand, his wrist was an inferno of agony and the loss of blood was already making him dizzy.

From nowhere, the Imperial's knife smashed into his chest, punching through his armour, spearing into his heart.

He collapsed, gasping, head spinning. Already, he could feel the very particles that made him up beginning to unravel, dragging him into oblivion. Colours that had no name clawed at the edge of his vision, silent voices screamed of impoverished luxury. The vision of a field of burning hot ice flew before his eyes.

And then it was gone.

Darkness. Nothing. All gone, a tiny, smooth walled cage.

Khallet roared in rage, clawing and grabbing futilely at the walls of his new prison, but it was fruitless. Wherever he was, he was trapped again, denied the possibility of returning to his home.

Erna smiled and tucked the glistening soul gem within his pocket, smirking at his own cleverness. It had been child's play to work a soul trap spell into the summoning, and then cast it on Khallet, and then wait for him to get himself killed. Now he had an extremely angry daedra with him-the perfect insurance should things go awry.

The dunmer glanced around the room, noticing the daedra were already beginning to become depleted, and decided it was time to go. No point falling victim to his own tools.

James

James awoke with a grunt as something ran past him. And after two seconds of complete fog in his mind he picked up on the screams of panic. Sure never mind not trampling the sleeping guy.

Angrily he got to his feet and marched towards where he could hear sounds of a big fight, honestly if someone had gotten drunk and knocked over an Orc or perhaps a Nord's ale he'd kill said person for interrupting his sleep.

His thoughts of revenge were stopped when he noticed the deadra doing a terrific job of beating up Ordinators. "Bugger, hehe I'll just go back nice and quietly", he mumbled mostly for himself. He backtracked as silently as he cold when he bumped into something. Something wearing a rather spike set of armour, and lastly it was alive.

Turning slowly he realized that he stood before a rather big Dremora. Honestly James stood at a respectable 6'2 but his head barely reached the chest of the massive Daedra. "Crap", he mumbled and prepared to flee when the muscled arm of the Dremora clamped around his throat and lifted him up so that they stood eye to eye.

"Y-you know...you s-sh-should have k-killed me when y-you had the chance" James managed to gasp. Then he gathered up his magic and released it through his hand as a blinding flash of light so strong that it burned out the Dremora's eyes.

It's ethereal screams echoed around the ruins as it tried to douse the flames. James after getting air back to his lungs went over to the Dremora which was twisting around in pain. He jumped onto its back and grabbed its neck in the nook of his arm and pulled for all his worth, while pushing down with his knee as hard as he could.

With a sickening !CRACK! the Dremora's neck broke and it quickly turned into dust afterwards.

"Serves you right", he quipped at the rapidly vanishing dust.

This post has been edited by Tellie: Nov 27 2009, 08:20 PM

Dranas Heleran

Dranas had cut through a half-dozen scamps and another clannfear before he noticed that the horde was dissipating--low in numbers and in spirit. He applied one last swab of poison to his blade, slashed yet another scamp across the chest, then went over to aid a pair of armigers fighting the last of the hungers. Within moments it was over.

It was only then that Dranas discovered that he was bleeding (though not badly) in four places, and that his armor was once again in a bad way.

"Damn it all, I just spent 20 drakes getting this kit repaired!"

He surveyed the damage more closely. He could fix it himself, he concluded, given six hours to spare. And he'd have that time... would have it so long as he let the repairs wait until he reached the Ghostfence. Was it worth the risk? He decided it was.

That train of thought concluded, Dranas scanned the wreckage from the fight. Everyone looked badly beaten of course, including Apelles Velvus, who'd been unlucky enough to join the row unarmored. And then there were the dead--that's what really caught Dranas' eye. In particular, one poor fellow who'd fallen in his very very fine glass armor. Sure would be a shame to let that go to waste, Dranas thought. He strode over to the fallen figure with a purpose, ignoring the sudden appearance of a young, tall Breton. Forget combat--now it was time for commerce.

Dralas

The fight was dying down, but Dralas nonetheless held his sword ready as he walked alongside the trio. Rothan and the pilgrim were carrying Rianne to safety, but if they came across trouble, the hunter was the only one with a free hand.

They ran (or moved as quickly as possible while carrying a person) through the dark corridors that led to the other side of the ruins where the caravan rested outside. No monsters hindered them, but a small group of guards shoved past them to clean up the few remaining daedra.

When they made it outside, the sunlight hurt Dralas' eyes; a result of time spent in the darkness of the ruin. There was a number of dead and wounded laid out in rows on the grass. The daedra did their work well, it seemed. A few priests and alcemists milled about, tending the patients. They put Rianne down among them.

"How do you feel?" he asked her.

OOC: if i moved things too fast, i'll edit. i just didn't see much else to do inside.

This post has been edited by Dantrag: Nov 29 2009, 07:15 AM

Erna

Well, it was done, and Erna was pleased.

It was a good plan, as his spur of the moment ones went. The cramped, confined room had become a killing ground, and even though the guards were now dealing with the last of the daedra, the damage had been done.

The temple would be considered a no-go area, and without a doubt the caravans would avoid it, putting yet more pressure on the fence, which, if the rumours Erna had heard were true, was already struggling. As well as that, he had reclaimed Mehrunes Dagon's territory-hopefully his master would notice and there would be a reward.

He clambered up the stairs, into the sunlight, and smiled.

Today had been a good day.

Haz OOC: I really need to think of something to do for Eno one of these days. Meh, he'll probably end up sitting at camp listening to other people's stories. Maybe he should pick up writing and become a chronicler or something. Anyway, back to our scheduled piece of Argonian.


With the Ashlander's help, Rothan and Haz got away unscathed. Haz left the choosing of their path to the priest, who knew better than him when it came down to finding other healers. In the end, Rothan led them outside, to a place that had both become an improvised ward for the wounded, and a morgue. Still following Rothan's directions, Haz managed to lower Rianne down to the floor in a way that would put minimal strain on her injured body. He hadn't even let go of her arms when Dralas knelt down beside her to ask her how she felt. The Argonian shrugged, happy to let the woman have all the attention. Perhaps now he could get back to what he should have been doing in the first place, finding something with which to cover his slave bracers.

Originally their glow had been hidden by some simple paint that was meant to be washed off with water once at Ghostgate. But the Scamp's fireball had managed to burn that off. Haz concluded that the bustling chaos all around him, and everyone's focus on the wounded and the dead, was the only reason why no one had really noticed. Well, no one except Rothan.

The Argonian's eyes surveyed the scene as he stood next to the two Ashlanders. What caught his eyes was a roll of bandages that had fallen from one healer's bag. Seeing as how it was now dirty with ash and he still had other bandages, the healer had carried on towards his patients without slowing down. Haz made a quick check to make sure no one was watching what he was doing, before scooping it up.
"This will do. And besides, I can always say I got injured in the fighting if anyone asks." He thought as he began to wrap the bracers with the bandage, shielding his actions from any potential observer with his sleeves.

Rianne

She was mostly conscious when she was carried away from the fight scene by Rothan and the pilgrim.

Who is he? and what is that shining thing on his arm?

Then Dralas showed up and she forgot about everything else. When he asked her how she was, she was tempted to say OK for a second, but she surely didn't look as she was anything near ok so instead she whispered:

"I'm alive...that's all that matters, but please could you take out the worn and dirty parchment from my backpack....read the runes for me, you'll recognize them when you see them..please Dralas..it must be you who reads them..."



OOC: Yes Rianne noticed the bracelet on Haz' arm but she still hasn't actually seen what it is. If you're not ok with this I'll edit!

OOC: Well, he did carry her so it's not odd at all that she would catch a glimpse or two of the glowing arm decoration of doom. So no need to edit. With that said....
Eno

Eno had done as he'd been told, or threatened more accurately. He stuck with the unconscious soldier, till some clerks unceremoniously picked the man up and carried him over to the improvised healing office. Now Eno was loitering at the edge of the camp next to his Guar. He had taken out the Kagouti bone and continued the long job of hollowing it out, grateful for the distraction.

"Hey, you!" Someone shouted. Eno dropped what he was doing and looked up, the panic returning in his eyes. He was convinced that the Daedra had broken through and this man was here to tell him to run.
"Get your Guar ready. We're moving by nightfall." The Dunmer continued. Eno now saw that he was wearing the robes of a temple official. At least the crowd behind the man seemed unaware of a rampaging horde of monsters. Maybe they were safe after all.
"Nightfall? But we can't do that. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is out there at night?" Eno stammered.

"Do YOU have any idea how dangerous it is if we stay?" The priest countered, turning towards the other members of the caravan as he did so. "As the temple's representative of this camp, I command everyone who is able to walk to prepare themselves. Take everything you can carry, prioritizing food supplies. Leave behind all jewelry and other weight that is unneeded for your survival. Do not question my orders! We're leaving by nightfall."


OOC: Good enough? If you guys had rather have someone with a different profession take charge, then let's just assume that this guy is just relaying orders.

James.

James shook his head at the stupidity of the priest, really moving at night, with daedra and the Divines knew what else after them. Angrily he moved over to where the priest stood, it was practically his civic duty to try and dissuade them from leaving.

"Listen, I realize that you must have been one of the unfortunate ones when it came to distribution of intelligence, but why do we have to move at night when we have a perfectly defendable daedra ruin to stay in...for the night at least".

OOC: Yes he is cranky after being nearly trampled and killed.

This post has been edited by Tellie: Dec 4 2009, 09:28 PM

Dranas Heleran

Dranas was limping back to his camp (he'd managed to heal his wounds, but now was sore from exertion) when he overhead the Breton berating the Temple priest. He couldn't resist piping up.

"Hell, it's going to take a couple hours anyway for all these slackers here to get set to leave--and that's ignoring all the wounded we've got to deal with. So I'd suggest both of you quit your bellyaching and see to your own gear. I don't want to get all my outfit ready and then have to stand around and wait."

Satisfied that he'd been heard, Dranas lit up a hackle-lo (easing his aching body, if only a little) and walked away.

James.

James gaped in self righteous outrage, here he was exercising his talented wit at the unuspecting Temple prist and then some...twit had the gall to show up and berate HIM...that just wouldn't do.

"That's...completely beside the point", he yelled at Dranas retreating back. "Not my fault that other people have unpacked their stuff for some reason", he continued to mumble for himself.

Now even more grumpy he tore into the priest again. "Well, have your steaming pile of ineptidue that you call a brain come up with a decision yet or do require me to bring out parchment and ink so that I may draw a crude sketch of my suggestion?"