"Never, ever, ever underestimate the power of boredom. People will do all kinds of insane, dangerous things just to not experience boredom." Silas replies, looking back at the room with a wry grin. "To be honest though, about a third of these don't look that bad..." Silas makes no indication to what is included in this third.
The wall cracks, and then swings open. the stairs down here are slick and steep, you will only be able to go down them single file. Something below seems to beckon. even as you know, intellectually, that these stairs are deadly to fall down, a part of you wishes to go down them two steps a stride.
what do you do?
Hund rushes forward, taking the stairs two astride and he runs full speed down the steps.
Baros follows Hund, albeit much more cautiously.
"Alright, we take this a bit..." And the metal dog was off down the stairs, a light sigh escaping Silas as he shook his head. Worst case scenario, the dog's metal would sell decently well at a salvager's place. "Onwards then. You men, behind me." Silas tells the militia before following Baros and Hund down into the depths.
The stairs go down, down, down. perhaps 200 stairs altogether. you hear the chamber before you reach it, a low sound of dozens of moans, with a growing sound over it all. the Smell is next. sweat and semen and less pleasant smells. Eventually, you emerge into a tableau of indulgence, an enormous cavern, with a river going through it, and an altar deeper within. All around, Adepts are coupled or thrupled, rutting with wild abandon, The guards join you, and are almost overtaken by the sight. all around you, the cultists slowly react to your intrusion.
Upon the altar, a woman with quite obviously natural scarlet hair kneels astride a young man, his own body contorting wildly as the pair mate. as you watch, still stunned by the scene, he gives one final thrust and groans, and the scarlet woman shouts out in ecstasy before plunging a dagger into his throat, slaying him and covering her stomach and bosom in an arterial spray. As he dies, something of him seems to float up, and hang in the air above the altar, making a figure you can barely make out above it look ever so slightly more real.
You gather your senses finally as a man Silas, Hund, and Baros would recognise as Vincent Swiet, decouples from one of the young adepts, all but tossing the girl aside as he takes his sword from his discarded pants.
Who wants a fast turn?
Silas takes in the scene, his eyes widening even more at the scene before him. The scents weren't entirely unfamiliar to him; a bloody and terrible orgy instead bringing a low memory of fear and anger to his mind. The woman at the alter kills the man and his spirit adds to the phantasmal figure, bringing the demon a little more into reality. Looking back at Hund, he nods to the woman.
"Kill that one. I've got that f##+er. Baros, Rodran, do what you think is best." With his sword in hand, he charges into combat and moves after the priest.
Having orders, Hund immediately charges the woman, jaws snapping and claws clackering along the cement. His eyes glow an emerald green as he focuses on her.
Baros charges at the nearest cultist, gotta start somewhere
Silas' blade sinks into Swiet's flesh, and the man straightens up, sword and pipe in hand. He smiles. I was almost getting bored. Have you brought my sweet Fallon with you? he asks, then he inhales from the pipe, growls something terrible, and Silas' head is split open, as if by a red hot piton.
Silas's nose and ears gush blood, and one of his eyes goes dark as a blood vessel pops
Hund, meanwhile, inflicts a terrible blow to the scarlet woman, and more blood covers her. The pain does not seem to bother her overmuch, and she takes a long knife and tries to put it in Hund's head.
and it plunges in hard, breaking gears and cutting frames. Hund stops moving.
Meanwhile, Baros stabs at a cultist, spear piercing soft flesh. The cultist retaliates, swinging a sickle around to strike at him.
The archers, meanwhile. choose targets, two joining Baros, and three more targeting the one beside his foe.
and the captain decides Swiet is the biggest threat, taking a shot at him
but is unable to get a clear shot around Silas.
You all notice that they seem stronger here, in the presence of the demon, than they would be outside this chamber.
Silas reels back from the mental attack, stumbling backwards from the man for a moment as blood rushed down his lips. His vision blurred and pain throbbed through his head as he stumbled before he went somewhat limp standing up. He falls down to his knees and slumps over onto the hard ground, no longer moving.
Silas's body twitches and his chest continues to rise and fall, though it trembles as it does.
Baros continues thrusting his spear into cultist flesh...
Rordan trembles as the memories of his own experiences with these types of Cults comes crashing back to him. He is overwhelmed by the sensations and has trouble bringing himself back to the moment.
Until the woman attacked The Hound.
With a scream he stretches forth his hand and the power rushes out of him.
If she has less than 10 health she immediately dies, where we discussed how the spell looks.
The strike causes Hund's gears to cease, and he freezes in place, jaws still open ready to bite.
Hund's thoughts and hopes and desires all went black as he shut down and became an object. His mechanism went faulty with the impact of the last blow - per perhaps it was faulty maintenance from when Rardan last worked on him. Without Mok here to keep him running properly, this was bound to happen sooner or later. What hope did the mechanical dog have?
The gears within Hund continue to grind despite the faults, creating extra pressure. Then a line suddenly snaps releasing heated liquid, and the mechanical dog explodes. Shrapnel of metal fly outwards in all directions, hitting everyone within a radius.
The cultists begin to close in as Silas and Hund drop, one gets close enough to take a swing at Baros.
Then, HUND explodes, and Corvence almost collapses, barely keeping her feet, bits of Hund's gears lodged painfully in her torso.
Baros' spear ends his cultist foe, the man falls to the ground clutching his throat, but Baros is pretty well surrounded, at least 5 will be around him soon, and they won't keep missing.
Rordan, Fast or Slow turn?
Silas coughs up a bit more blood before shuddering hard again. Stubbornly, he clings onto his life.
Though panic shakes through the militia, they stick to the training that they were taught; focus and bring them down. The three will fire at the injured cultist beside Baros.
A young halfling girl shrieks from inside a small cage as the mechanical dog explodes. One of the gears just barely missed her, and though she didn't see it, a hint of a crack in the cage bars was there.
-----------
The commander of the small unit have out his orders, Protect the halfling!
Following his own words, he fired at the cultists attacking the ferocious little man.
The guards bring low the Cultist Baros has been fighting, and wound another. But soon, the little ball of fury will be all but surrounded, and not even he will survive.
The one Cultist in reach takes a swipe at him with their knife, a surprisingly quick motion for someone so obviously intoxicated.
but as they move, the little halfling twirls his spear, and it finds the cultists guts. He falls down dead.
Swiet decides that Baros is a threat as well, and that conventional attacks will not avail him here. So he takes another draw from his pipe, and his mind assails the bold Halflings.
and agony splits his mind.
The captain knows this path is suicide. Their numbers are a great advantage, and the sorcerer is laying the best of them low.
Rordan, what are you doing?
More cultists move to surround the little halfling and the guard, while Corvence closes with the captain of the guard.
Corvence manages to find a weak spot in the captain's armour, and gives a quick strike to it, not managing to get very deep
three cultists attack the patrollers
And another 4 team up on Baros, trying desperately to bring down the little halfling
And utterly fail to strike him, because it turns out high, naked and crazy doesn't make for great soldiering
Baros steps away from the assaulting cultists to gain a clear lane at Swiet. Giving is spear a quick upward toss he switches his grip. Baros takes a pair of strides toward Swiet and hurls the spear at his pipe.
Watching the halfling step out to attack the leader, the captain follows suit, ordering his men to take out Swiet and Corvance.
The guards watched as the captain was attacked by the naked woman, blood coming from the small wound at his side. When he bravely encouraged them to fight onwards, they drew their weapon and went to assist. As archers fired down at the man with the pipe, the three closest to the captain closed in on the woman with spears and small shields to protect themselves.
All the while, Silas coughed and shuddered upon the ground. Memories of beautiful lands, far more beautiful and terrible than anywhere else in the world, ran through the young yet wizened scoundrel's mind as he balanced against death.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Rordan focused his attention directly on the Sorcerer.
Nothing else has worked this far, maybe at best I can turn his attention toward me...
"Hey! You don't need that right?"
Rordan focuses and points a finger directly towards the Sorcerer's Pipe. His glass eye squirms and rotates like an insect until a single red pinprick points out and a red dart of magical energy blasts out knocking Rordan's head back a bit.
As Baros disengages, the cultists take swipes at him
The captain and his men strike down Swiet and Corvence, and with that, the demon above the altar shrieks, and melts away, seeming to take some of the fight from the cultists.
The guards, seeing the demonic figure disappear as both unholy priests fall under arrow and spearpoint, feel bolstered even as the halfling gets knocked down by the various cultists around them. They move up to provide a wall of protection around the archers, stabbing and striking at whoever they can.
It took a moment. Clay was distracted by the raging battle; blood was everywhere, the screams rang loud in her ears. Two of her rescuers had fallen - no, three, that metal construct was one as well. It exploded. Was that intentional? It nearly tool her head off!
Wait. Nearly? She looked at her cage and realized with amazement that it was broken! She could escape! She squeezed out through the broken bars, the ragged edges scraping across her tan-red skin. Freedom!
Looking around, she realized that no one had seen her. They were all so focused on the battle that she could just walk out of here. But could she? Could she really? No, she couldn't just leave them to die.
She ran over to the halfling, and gently shook his shoulder, barely whsipering to him Hey, hey are you awake? Are you ok? Come on, get up. They need you.
Fire! The captain call to his one man remaining.
-------
Clay looks around. The human, next. Damn, where's that healing potion go? That a*#@@++ Swiet took it, and it's aaalll the way up there in his office, isn't it? There was nothing she could to for the man.
She looked around some more. The local guards were doing a fine job. That goblin seemed powerful, too. The halfling was already coming to his senses. Could she help? There were weapons everywhere she could use, but she wasn't sure if she could actually hurt someone. Even though they were planning on doing it to her. She saw the bone sacrificial dagger and grabbed it; held it in her hands as she stared at it. Could she really do that?
Suddenly she looked up and screamed, Look out! It gave him a moment's notice and allowed him to press the attack.
Rordan refocuses himself from the attack... In vain. He feels nauseous and is having trouble controlling himself. Suddenly, his stomach turning he looks towards the nearest wounded cultist. And a dark, forbidden, language stirs from his lips.
Baros peels himself off the ground, blood dripping down his face, and rejoins the battle.
The mob of cultist push forward, taking wild swings at the spearmen.
and they hit one of the spearmen, wounding it grievously. The man is all but dead, but there is still life in his form
Clay watched in horror as the spearman falls to the ground. Blood was gushing everywhere. This whole day has been filled with blood. Liquid red pouring from wounds created by sharpened steel. She didn't ask for this! She didn't want any of this to happen! Why did these idiots have to do this? For what purpose? Why summon a demon? Why all the blood? Couldn't they have just let her walk away like she had planned when she sold them some pottery? Sure, it wasn't a real Caliesco piece, but she was absolutely sure they couldn't tell the difference. But even if they could, it's not like she was charging full price for it! Real Caliescos go for at least 50 gold! It was a bargain! Maybe that's what tipped them off?
But no, they had to take it and capture her at the same time. Just for this stupid blood and sex ritual. What was it with these humans and their sex?
She stared at the spearman; he was bleeding; barely standing on his own. His stomach was ripped open, and his guts were about to fall out. Did she want to do anything? She was raised to hate these types of people - guards, soldiers, the law. No, that wasn't right. Candace was raised that way, and she wasn't Candace. She was Clay. Her mother - no, not her mother, Candace's mother hated guards. And Candace's mother hated Clay. Hated what she was. Clay decided right there and then that she wouldn't hate the spearman just because he was a guard, or a solider, or whatever he was.
She skirted the crowd, trying to keep out of their reach while making her way to the spearman. When she got to him, she sidled on up next to him and whispered to him, "There's a healing potion upstairs. In Swiet's office. Can you make it there?"
The captain regarded his men carefully; one was severely injured but the rest were fighting their hardest. The cultists were an angry, naked mob but retreat would endanger the strangers that had sacrificed themselves for the town and could cost more lives.
"Get on back upstairs!" The captain shouts at the injured spearmen. The young man nods through the pain and is only stopped at the halfling ends up next to him. He nods with a wince, holding his gut as he retreats up the staircase. One of the archers grabs his shield and spear to fill in the line, dropping the bow to the ground to hold off the angry mob. "Keep fighting!" The captain shouts, nocking back another arrow before firing into the angry horde.
The mass encroaches further, another flurry of weapons falling on the spearmen holding the line, still furious that the men dared assault their ritual.
"Hold them! Don't let these damned demon worshippers escape!" The guard shouts, seeing the mass slam against the shield wall but be unable to break through. Another two arrows fly into the crowd as the spearmen do their best to hold the enemy back. The smell of blood begins to fill the air even more around them, the air growing heavier with exerted breathes, sweat, and death.
Clay spots a jar of oil; the clay pot is something she is very familiar with as she has made hundreds. She knows the right way to throw it so it not only shatters, but splatters the mob.
She quickly makes her way to the pot and lifts it, launching it towards the mob.
Then she eyes the torch, ready to grab it and light the oil aflame.
Clay throws the pot, and she missed! She couldn't believe it! It.. it was actually a good throw, it just didn't break. It bounced on the ground and rolled beyond the crowd.
But then, one of the spearmen lurched forward and hot the pot with his spear, knocking it up into the air like some sort of ball, and another one stabbed at it with his spear, shattering it and splashing the oil over the mob.
In the end, it worked just as she had intended.
Badly injured and running on fumes Baros continues to stab away at the cultists.
The mob is hurting now, several of them have given out entirely. still, they fight like men possessed... it occurs to you that they may be. that perhaps this is how the demon will escape. They lash out at the halfling who killed their prophet.
Baros, running on fumes, lands a solid blow.
The mob finally gives, many succumbing to their wounds, and their cohesion lost completely. three remain on their feet, covered in oil and still disoriented.
"The mob is broken! Strike them down!" The captain shouts to his men, who rally as the beaten halfling, the newcomer, and the goblin strike against their foes.
Clay was in a blind panic; blood and screams filled the cavern. She was barely aware of grabbing the small brazier and launching it to the oil. The hot metal burned her hands, but the burning coals should be enough to light the fire.
Rordan finally gains control of himself. He has a throbbing headache and his Glass Eye finally stops rolling.
Damned Thing is more trouble than it's worth
He notices the crowd has ebbed, just a bit. The Cultists are broken. But he can't let go of the seething anger and memories of his own time with men such as these.
He readies his crossbow and fires a bolt into one of the disoriented Cultists.
Oh s$+$! Clay exclaims; the young halfling woman looks shocked at the results. I didn't think it'd do that! Her voice was accepted thickly, identifying her clearly as someone who came from the poor folk of the countryside.
She cringed back at the cultists screams from the fire, backpedaling towards the sacrificial alter where she stepped in a pool of blood.
She grabbed another pot near here and threw it at one of the cultists on fire. The pot shattered over the cultist's head.