Ilona helps Gillian as she heals Elorian, providing comfort and support, waiting for the moment when the woman regains her awareness.
Ragnar stands, quiet and impassive, watching Ilona and Gilian care for the girl. The now nearly-frozen chain around his captive's neck trembles and dances with the howling of the spirits around him. He looks around at the newly-freed captives.
"Do you really think that, Brother? Weren't we once so broken as they? Look how far we have come."
He pauses.
"Oh. Yes of course. How far I have come. I still forget sometimes."
Another pause.
"That remains to be seen. In any case, I do not plan on joining you any time soon.
He smiles slightly, still watching Ilona.
"Yes. Her. Not that it is any concern of yours."
"Where the hell is Anang and Sorok? Muni! Go find them please. Solvi. Mind if Felina comes with me. It looks like I'm all we have for point.
Chops will gather some weapons and equipment. Anything that seems useful and then head out with Felina.
Solvistania nods to Felina, who responds to Chops, "Very well, purrrrr...I will hunt with you now....purrr." She then moves to join the Dworg at the point position
"Oh s$~%!" Chops stops, then says to Felina. "This is going to get ugly. Go get Illona. We need her touch."
Chops moves out of the weeds to stand next to Sorok. "What's up?" he says to the dwarf. "Anang, calm down please!"
Felina responds, "Ahh, the hunter has shown himself, yes I will bring the one you call Ilona"
Chops moves out of the weeds to stand next to Sorok. "What's up?" he says to the dwarf. "Anang, calm down please!"
"Don't know. 'E's got some nasty cuts, but ah canna' tell if they'd be 'nough t' do 'im in. Might'a gone Fell, but ah can't tell from here. My first thought was to hold'im under water an' see if he still needed t' breathe."
"Don't know. 'E's got some nasty cuts, but ah canna' tell if they'd be 'nough t' do 'im in. Might'a gone Fell, but ah can't tell from here. My first thought was to hold'im under water an' see if he still needed t' breathe."
"If he has turned fell. We better end this quick before he can infect one of us." Chops steps forward towards 'He who may be Anang,' ready to pounce. The hair on the back of his neck rises as he considers the possibility of having to fight his own teammate. A bead of sweat runs down his nose and hangs on the tip of his nose as he waits for Anang's move.
As Felina grabs her attention, Ilona looks at Gillian.
"I'll be back in a moment, seems like a few of the boys have gotten carried away."
She gently releases the woman in the petite healer's care and makes her way over to where Chops and Sorok are preparing to engage the feral elf.
"He's not gone yet, and he's not fell, there's too much life in him for that." She says as she crouches down before the elf, sitting back on her heels.
"Anang, c'mon hon. I know its bad, seeing all this, the things the shadow does, it fills me with hate too. But we can't afford to lose it. If we're nothing but animals, they win. I know there's darkness in there. We all have it....but that's part of the fight. Surrender isn't in you, so why are you letting this thing win?"
As she speaks she allows herself to radiate the full breadth of human emotion appealing to Anang's higher mind.
Diplomacy
Anang's stare darts from Chops to Sorok and back again, following their conversation but showing no real sign of understanding. The Dworg's attempt at calming him seems to have no effect and he continues baring his teeth and acting remarkably like a cornered animal.
As Ilona approaches the elf takes one rapid step back and raises his blades in readiness but something in her words and tone of voice makes him stop. A flicker of confusion mars the predator's rictus, a small crack in the hold of the demonic shard. The Sepi drop from his hands as the woman crouches down in front of him, the force of her personality beating at the darkness in his mind. Incredibly tentatively Anang reaches out a gore encrusted hand and brushes at the end of Ilona's lustrous black hair. The contact seems to drive a wave through his body, blasting away the dark tendrils holding his limbs taught and allowing his body to sag down into a heap on the ground.
Anang shudders for a second and then rolls over, groaning as the pain of bloody furrows on his chest finally makes it's way back into his brain. Pulling himself into a sitting position the elf gives a little start at the proximity of the beautiful Sarcosan.
"Wha.. why are you looking at me like that? Where did those guards go?"
For the first time since she left the pit, the woman seems to regain some semblance of consciousness. "I can walk", she says. "Just keep me away from him", she finishes, looking at the black warrior with fear and hatred in her eyes.
"You do not need to fear him any more. He is in your power, now. What do you want us to do with him?"
|
For the first time since she left the pit, the woman seems to regain some semblance of consciousness. "I can walk", she says. "Just keep me away from him", she finishes, looking at the black warrior with fear and hatred in her eyes."You do not need to fear him any more. He is in your power, now. What do you want us to do with him?"
"I don't know... Nothing... I... just don't know. Don't make me decide, please. I...could not live with myself."
"I don't know... Nothing... I... just don't know. Don't make me decide, please. I...could not live with myself."For the first time since she left the pit, the woman seems to regain some semblance of consciousness. "I can walk", she says. "Just keep me away from him", she finishes, looking at the black warrior with fear and hatred in her eyes."You do not need to fear him any more. He is in your power, now. What do you want us to do with him?"
"We had to ask you first. Do not worry any more about that. Come with me."
Going away with the woman, Gilian casts a prolonged look at Ragnar and at the man. Then she nods once.
"Wha.. why are you looking at me like that? Where did those guards go?"
Chops listens to the confused elf with sadness in his bestial features as he relaxes his posture. He turns to Illona until she makes eye contact with him. When she does he holds contact for a second, then nods to her and steps to Sorok, putting an arm around the dwarf's shoulder. He leads Sorok a few meters away from Illona and Anang, letting her do her thing.
"Brother, we need to move out back to that Necklace thing the spellcasters keep talking about. Do you remember the way? Solvi's rounding everyone up to move out and has sent Felina to help us scout cuz I don't have those skills. You want to take point with me or do you think they need you back with the others?
Ragnar listens to the tragic girl, and nods in return to Gilian's unspoken command. He closes his eyes a moment, and when he opens them again they have been replaced witht he cold blue fires that burn within the skulls of the skeletons formed when he calls the dead back to fight at his side.
"In the middle of the battle something...took over. Most of the blood on you is thiers. Thing is you started eating one of them and then wanted to attack everything. Like I said, this world is full of darkness, all around us, and even in a lot of us, weatheer by blood or nature. We need to hold on so we remenber whet we're fighting and why."
The beautiful Sarcosan stands, offering a hand to Anang, both a physical guesture and a meaningful reminder to the elf that he was no longer alone.
Ragnar turns to his prisoner, his face an impassive mask. He winds one end of the chain looped around the man's neck around his own arm until he has choked up on it enough to also grab on to the front of the man's breastplate.
"You are lucky. She has waved her right to punish you herself. Unfortunately for you, you are still a willing follower of the Namestealer."
Ragnar, his left arm braced firmly on the man's chest anchoring the chain in place, simply pulls back on the other end with his right, the metal noose tightening like a vice under the massive man's power.
As the body of the black warrior becomes limp in the grasp of the large Dorn, Duncan calmly approaches him, now wearing a brigandine armour, shield and crossbow stripped from one of the dead soldiers. He appears calm, unperturbed by the fact that Ragnar had just executed the prisoner, and untroubled by his frightful aura. "So it's done. That's good. One less living servant of the Shadow." He casts a sympathetic glance at the tortured lady, but says nothing about her.
"I couldn't help but noticing that there are some blacksmith tools in your pack. I was wondering if you could try taking this collar off, I don't want to have it on a second longer than absolutely necessary, and trust me, I would be a valuable ally in combat, especially if I had a bastard sword. Alas, these shadowlings only had longswords, but I guess it will have to do for now."
Chops listens to the confused elf with sadness in his bestial features as he relaxes his posture. He turns to Illona until she makes eye contact with him. When she does he holds contact for a second, then nods to her and steps to Sorok, putting an arm around the dwarf's shoulder. He leads Sorok a few meters away from Illona and Anang, letting her do her thing."Brother, we need to move out back to that Necklace thing the spellcasters keep talking about. Do you remember the way? Solvi's rounding everyone up to move out and has sent Felina to help us scout cuz I don't have those skills. You want to take point with me or do you think they need you back with the others?
"If they're needin t' remove them collars to leave from 'ere, then I'll go back." Sorok quickly surveys the bloody scene. "After that I'm thinkin' we ought t' keep any fell from gettin' up fer later." And with that the Dwarf makes his way over to the prisoners.
Solvistania looks over at the warrior Duncan and gives an inward sigh. Seeing the rest of the prisoners gathering the supplies needed from the slain soldiers, she approaches Duncan and says, ”I may be able to remove the collar, but this will hurt.”
Her slender fingers run themselves along the collar, and she concentrates on calling up just the right amount of arcane energy… soon her hands grow slick with a clear liquid. She winces in pain, and then runs her hands along Duncan’s collar, smearing the liquid, which now Duncan realizes is acid. Unfortunately, the acid flows onto his skin and he gasps in pain as the acid sears his skin.
|
|
Solvistania looks over at the warrior Duncan and gives an inward sigh. Seeing the rest of the prisoners gathering the supplies needed from the slain soldiers, she approaches Duncan and says, ”I may be able to remove the collar, but this will hurt.”
Her slender fingers run themselves along the collar, and she concentrates on calling up just the right amount of arcane energy… soon her hands grow slick with a clear liquid. She winces in pain, and then runs her hands along Duncan’s collar, smearing the liquid, which now Duncan realizes is acid. Unfortunately, the acid flows onto his skin and he gasps in pain as the acid sears his skin.
Willowy elf concentrates her power in the palm of her hand. Metal hisses and the collar falls to the ground. Staring in her blood-red eyes, Duncan can not help but be in awe of the sorceress.
As the body finishes twitching, he watches the warrior closely, then quickly closes his eyes tightly, almost cringing.
"Eyvindr, is it over?" he says, then slowly opens his eyes once more. "Thank you. That one must have been truly devout. It happened so quickly."
As the fierce looking prisoner approaches, Ragnar begins to back up as a courtesy, and raises his eyebrows as the man steps past the threshold of swirling spirits that surround him, seemingly unbothered.
As Solvistania comes to work her magics, Ragnar sets down his pack. After a moment's digging he comes up with a pair of short handled tongs, a heavy hammer and a large chisel.
"I only have the most basic tools with me. No cutting shears or files, which would normally be what we would use here. I'm willing to try. Solvistania, we do not need to break the collar itself. Only the bolt. See if you can concentrate your magics there."
As the collar falls away, he grunts. "Terrible. I suppose I'm not surprised that the Shadow's workmanship is that bad."
He looks around to the others, pausing a moment.
"I...think it would be best if Sorok removed the collars from the others."
He seems deeply sad for a moment, then sighs, draws his mighty blade and beheads the body of the black knight with one stroke, casually tossing the corpse into the pit. The bloody chain falls from the severed neck and raises like a snake to wind itself once again around his waist, the two ends hanging nearly to his feat on his left side.
" I would not want to frighten them."
As Ilona describes his actions during the battle Anang begins shaking and looking decidedly nauseated. When she offers a hand he waves it frantically away before half turning and retching up a great stream of congealed gore and lumps of flesh, the sight of the steaming pile causing him to gag and retch even more. Finally, his stomach aching and empty, Anang uses shaking hands to fish out his waterskin, rinsing out his mouth and washing the gore from his face and arms as best he can. When he turns back to Ilona he seems to have shrunk somehow, his eyes haunted and his shoulders turned inwards.
"I.. thought I had control over it, I could keep it down on my own. Obviously I was wrong."
He finally takes the proffered hand and grips it tightly for a second before releasing it and letting his arms drop to hug absent-mindedly at his own chest.
"I owe you a debt Ilona, with out you I am not sure I could have regained my mind. Thank you"
While Sorok cuts up all the chains, Gilian will organize the evacuation of the camp and get everyone ready to move to the prison/mine.
Once that it done, she will take one of the rear places of the column with Pebble and together, they will try to hide the group tracks as best as they can
|
|
The trip to the mine seems to last longer than it should. Former captives are weary and hungry. There was not a lot of food to be found in the soldier's camp and the captives were ravenous. In fact, you start to wonder if you will have enough food for the party. Someone will probably have to go hunting.
Elorien seems to have found the Son comforting. The huge creature stands aside from the rest of the former captives. You can not tell by the stony expression on his face why is that so, but perhaps it has something to do with the mutters and evil stares from some of the captured women directed at Elorine. "Whore", there are mutters. "She bought her life by spreading her legs."
Blond-haired woman seems to be oblivious. She just walks, one step at the time.
As Anang recovers a bit of himself, Ilona squeezes his hand in quiet support and allows him some privacy with his thoughts.
She returns to the others just as Ragnar strikes the head from the executed corpse, a look of approval in her eys as well as one of empathy. She quietly studies Ragnar's face noting his reaction to something she cannot see and his comment to his ever present brother.
Shemakes her way over to the young death shaman, her arm slipping around his waist, her head leaning on his chest as she watches Gillian round up the freed captives.
It was a thing of beauty, the manner in which the group operated, each supporting the other with thier unique frrom of strength.
As they progressed woth thier trek, she moved around the procession, passing encouraging words and support to those in need, carrying a child for a few miles to give a mother a rest, allowing an elderly captive to lean on her, she interacts with the captives, reminding them that they are indeed alive.
Her eyes flash as she overhears the word "whore" and at the comment of how Elorien bought her life a wave of righteous anger washes off of her like the rumble of a coming storm.
Her tone is one that commands attention drawing all eyes to her as she walks and speaks.
"HOW DARE YOU? Yo u walk here newly freed, lost, with nothing and yet you judge her? You judge the victim? We freed you from what? Captivity? Enslavement? You think your lives difficult, and yet what you've suffered is nothing compared to what she has."
"What would you do if faced with a knife to your child's throat? Would you deny the filth who wanted to defile you and let her die? If you had suffered a tenth of what she has, can any of you look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn not be left a broken husk,hoping to kill yourself at the first opportunity? Would you even be human afterwards? "
She looks eack woman in the eyes as she talks, her voice picking up in intensity, hammering home the point, holding their gaze until they are forced to look away in shame.
"Think about this....if it wasn't for her, it would be one of you in that pit being raped day and night. You want to judge her, then go see how you fare out there with the soldiers that ran off. See how well you do when they find you. When you have to choose between a dagger in your heart and a @$%% between your legs will you be as self righteous? If you are sure of that speak up now."
The glare with which she bestows those who disparage the young woman radiates ferocity. All who meet her gaze in that moment are struck with the image of an angry tigress.
Solvistania walks along in the middle of the group, saying nothing and her thoughts are elsewhere. On overhearing the pleading of the former prisoners to seek haven with the Witch Queen, she shakes her head, Do these fools even know where Caradul is? She felt the urge to enlighten them Caraheen was thousands of miles from their current location in the Khaladrun Mountains.
On hearing Ilona's outburst, a feeling of empathy welled in her heart. She could imagine too well the abuse she had suffered, as that way lay madness. She watched Elorien struggle to rejoin the present, to rejoin reality, and knew it would take time...as she personally had walked the same path before.
She glides over to Elorien, and says quietly to the young lady, "You do not walk this path alone, remember this. Others walk with you.". She then leaves Elorien to her struggles, knowing time is needed here.
Captives welcome the death of the black warrior with cries of joy and relief. "Cut our chains!" they beg. "Yeah! We want to get away from here!" and "Lead us to the Witch Queen! She will make us safe!"
Sorok moves to the place where Ragnar left his craftsman tools as the captives cry out for freedom. Picking up tongs, pick and hammer he looks for a suitable work area. Finding a nearby rock with a mostly flat top he calls out to the prisoners.
"All of ye', form a line an' I'll get them collars off."
As the remaining prisoners gather he has them lay their heads down on the rock as if preparing for execution.
"Now don't ye' move an' keep yer head down." As the first prisoner lays with their head down Sorok examines the collar finding the weakest point.
"Huh, shoddy worksmanship."
After locating the bolt keeping the collar together, he lines the chisel and hammer up and begins to dismantle the collar. Several pounds with the hammer later the collar falls away. The Dwarf lets out a sigh and calls out. "Next." The line of former captives continues to move on this way until none are left.
Once the prisoners are free Sorok walks to where the line of soldiers stood and picks up a fallen tower shield. Then moves to the front of the line of captives.
Dot
Ragnar stands well apart from the line as it begins to move, content with his usual place at the rear of the group. His eyes never leave Ilona as she walks from prisoner to prisoner offering words of encouragement and hope. He smiles slightly beneath his hood, lost in watching her. After a short time his brows knit and his smile vanishes. "No one asked you." he grumbles to the air next to him. "I can be afforded some time to myself, can't I? There is no harm in a smile." He pulls the hood lower and continues walking, seeming to brood deeper, until finally he snaps. "So you've said!" He snarls, launching into an impassioned argument with the empty air, oblivious to any who look behind them and stare.
"My thoughts on the subject have not changed, nor have hers. Let it be! Why do you begrudge me this? Why can you not simply be happy for my happiness? Would you rather I was lonely for the rest of my days?" he pauses. "Well you don't count. None of you do. You're dead. She is not. She is the most passionately alive person I have ever laid eyes on. Even if I were able to push her away, I would not want to! What reason could I possibly have to do that?" He pauses again, slowing further.
"Oh." he says, looking confused. "I..Yes...I know." He sighs.
His head snaps up at Ilona's angry voice, concern replacing all previous emotions. He watches her dressing down the group of women, his own anger flaring at them despite not knowing what they had done to anger her. He simply seethes as he listens. When she finishes, he runs his fingers through his beard, thinking. "That is the second time that word has been used. What does it mean?" He shakes his head. "No, not that one. The other one." He nods. "Yes. That one. What is that? He looks around. "What? Aren't you going to say anything? Sky'Tor? Anvinder? What are you laughing at? It doesn't seem funny to her. What is it?" He scowls. "Fine. The three of you are about as helpful as a rock in my boot. I'll ask her myself..."
Still shaken by his loss of control Anang moves out far ahead of the group, scouting for any signs of soldiers or game. With the sudden influx of freed prisoners to feed their meagre supplies were going to be stretched far too thin, and some fresh meat would go a ways toward helping the situation.
Survival
Solvistania is relieved to have arrived back at the prison/tomb, although she hides these feelings from her face. Knowing their situation is still dire, she orders Felina to stand guard at the entrance, and to inform her if any creatures approach.
She knows the ritual for draining the Nexus will be time consuming, but she does take time to prepare a stew for the prisoners, using her herbal skills to mask the lack of meat avaiable.
She also asks Chops to keep an eye on the Son, "I fear he may head off and hunt Zafina down by himself. Do not let that happen. I need to prepare for the ritual, so I trust you, Durathoin to handle this. Befriending him would be wise."
Ragnar booms. "I suffer enough constant noise as it is. I will tolerate such things from the children. Not from you."
Ragnar moves forward from his place at the rear near the door until those closest can just barely feel the pricking of their skin and the rising of the hairs on the backs of their necks.
"There are two solutions to this problem. You may either cooperate with each other, some of you being patient and waiting your turn for an unused bowl, or I can decide who eats and who does not by numbering you and drawing lots, removing exactly as many of you as it takes until there are the same number of people as there are bowls. Choose."