Ceceka dodges the ghoul's attacks, but by doing so he messes up his own footwork.
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Ceceka snaps out of it and looks around, somewhat dazed and confused now that the wonderful sensation of righteous anger is gone. What remains is mere anger, unfocused, unguided, and it needs to be directed at something. He glances at Aily's still form and the one word that shines brightest in his mind is pitiful. Surely her lover will mend her torn flesh and broken bones. Ceceka need not worry. No, he needs to stay angry.
The foul magic controlling Ceceka continues to steer the warrior's anger at his companions. It almost feels ... therapeutic.
Unaware of the magic that's impacting his actions, Ceceka's rage is redirected to Aily. And there is so much rage. Aily! That bastardly dhampir! What does she see in that pathetic Caraid? How can she submit herself to one worthless master after another?! She ought to be punished for her choices!
Ceceka feels how someone is trying to take control of his anger, but is that truly such a bad thing? Anger is like a raging fire, it cares not for who steers it, only that it is fed. And all Ceceka cares for is to be fed.
Ceceka wastes no time taking in the scenery and rushes forward to deal with the magic-wielding ghouls.
Ceceka presses the attack and strikes with reckless abandon.
The ghouls manage to anger Ceceka and something inside the warrior snaps when they hurt him. A primal roar escapes his throat before he brutalizes and savages the foolish ghoul who struck him.
Ceceka joins Humerus and focuses on the skeleton's unfortunate target.
Ceceka knows that when you make the most of an insult by turning it into something fruitful is the best way of returning it to sender. Well, that is when you aren't in a position to take the other person's head. Perhaps he ought to give the ghoul a shot. While he won't let the high priest of Kabriri literally scratch his back, he has no qualms about figuratively scratching his if it means climbing Geb's accursed social pyramid. "Consider it done."
Ceceka snarls when the ghoul unleashes his bad mood on them. Couldn't he have at least bothered with being a decent host? The 'meal' on display feels like a carefully crafted warning. "We are Blood Lords because we rarely miss a step and, unlike many of our foes, have yet to lose our heads or our lives. Each of us has a unique set of talents and skills, and when bundled, it makes for a killer combination. Perhaps our Lord feels you might need that in the days to come, but it is not for me to guess nor interpret his will."
All that Harmony manages to do is invoke a thousand and one ways in which Ceceka wants to hurt her. To make her scream in such delicious ways that Zon-Kuthon himself will nod along to the merry tune of her agony. It's in the end that all the bluster comes to a screeching halt when she can't help but pry. The inquiry, of course, immediately gets met by Humerus's twisted take on honesty. In a way, Ceceka doesn't need to hurt her. Humerus will manage just fine. "What makes you ask that? Something must have planted the seed that blossomed into that thought."
Ceceka is late to the party, but when he arrives his mouth twists into an expression of annoyance and curiosity. Not practical nor charming, but typical Ceceka. The woman, altogether too vibrant and expressive, triggers something inside him that Ceceka can't quite put his finger on. Yet. That bothers him. When she introduces herself, the name only makes it worse. "Are you perhaps into ancient mummified felines? If so, our household can scratch your itch." Too many words, way too many words. The realization of it causes him to snarl. Tonight, he'll sanctify his new dwelling with a ritual of flagellation so that Zon-Kuthon knows where to find, and know of his piety. And who knows, perhaps Harmony in Agony will hear his devotion through the walls.
"Less talking, more fighting!", Ceceka snarls as he intensifies his efforts to send these accursed glowy bastards to an early grave. Ah, why won't they just die?!
The nauseating energies cause Ceceka to forget about the importance of technique. The warrior lets his focus slip and gives in to anger.
The overwhelming positivity that hits Ceceka causes him to gag. If there ever was such a thing as feeling too good, Ceceka now knows what that is like.
Ceceka strides after Aily and aids the dhampir in her efforts to undo these vile luminescent beings! They are an affront to Zon-Kuthon and must be undone.
Ceceka lazily flips through the pages of one of the illusionary books and shrugs. "The fool probably picked the name of an obscure or extinct species of cats as the password." And he obviously doesn't know the names of any such species. With the password being out of their reach, for now, Ceceka focuses on the task at hand. With weapon in hand, he follows Aily.
The golem's bite manages to slow Ceceka down, angering the man further.
The pain the golem puts Ceceka in awakes something within the warrior. He taps into the roiling source of anguish and uses it to retaliate with ferocious strength.
Ceceka bursts into action when the golem snaps at Smoke. He mutters some vile words that are best forgotten.
Ceceka eyes the dinosaur and shakes his head. "Great, more trash. We can try selling the skull to a collector, and that mummified bat person thing, well maybe we can find a fool who wants to buy that. And yes, Smoke, we'll keep a few bones just for you to chew on."
Ceceka releases all the pent-up anger once Dizonn has left. To the outside world, they might've gotten a promotion, but inside the nefarious pyramid-shaped world of the Blood Lords of Mechitar, they are still the same: disposable tools. "By Rovagug's balls, we're no janitors. Fine, open that blasted door, Humerus, and let us get this over with."
The warrior bows in answer to Geb's words. Whatever Ceceka might think of them is irrelevant, for they're Geb's command. Only a fool would weigh those words in the presence of the almighty wizard. Kortash however isn't Geb. The worth of the ghoul lord has yet to be weighed. "We shall. Until then, Lord of Nemret Noktoria."
Ceceka makes a deep bow and submits his body to the thousand chills inflicted on his mortal coil by being in the blessed presence of Geb. The unique pain and fears associated with this moment ensure that Ceceka will never forget it, Zon-Kuthon be praised. "Ceceka, warrior-merchant of Greydirge." Whatever more he wants to say, Ceceka knows Geb already knows. It is not his role to take the center of the stage, that, alas, is Geb's role in all of this. Carefully, not wanting to stumble, Ceceka takes a step back after introducing himself to their lord.
Ceceka puts on his usual dour mask and calmly walks after the procession. Like a glorified bouncer, he keeps track of the crowd and any potential threats, scanning the endless sea of faces for danger.
Ceceka stays quiet when Telvir suggests they ought to show the superiority of unlife over life. Urgathoa be damned, without life, there would be no gluttony! With some subtle suggestions, he steers the theme of the domination of undeath towards a broader, all-encompassing approach that will surely please the faithful of Urgathoa.
Ceceka exhales forcefully when Humerus does what Humerus does, and then castigates himself for doing something so mortal in the presence of Dizonn Dizuul. He learned long ago that the undead do not mind the living but only for as long as the living do not remind them of the fact they're undead. He bites his lip and inclines his head, hoping that Aily's tact and grace can salvage the situation.
Ceceka uses what free time he has to seek out business ventures. Since their efforts have made parts of the country safe once again for trade, Ceceka might as well use that opportunity to make some coin. Perhaps some of his companions are interested in chipping in. Trade routes for food and weapons, the means to set up and maintain zombie farms, there are so many possibilities now that they've got titles, coin, and they've rid the lands of the hags and other foes. --- After a hot bath and some blood ale, Ceceka's dour mood is now merely sour. "I suggest we bring Geb a worthy gift. Yes, I understand that we cannot possibly impress him no matter what we give, but we must at least try. This is our one chance, our one shot, to do so."
Ceceka weighs Caraid's words carefully. His gaze shifts between the man and the medusa, wondering what sort of reward a rich blood lord would give the group for bringing them a living medusa. Or would even her corpse fetch a pretty penny? Does a re-animated medusa still have the power to petrify? There's much to ponder, but he seems to be the only one entertaining the thought. "Fine. We go. She can keep her house and this cursed place."
Ceceka is not without mercy and so sends the doll on its way to meet its mistress.
Ceceka knows he should close his eyes, but he wants to see the medusa hurt. No, he needs to see it.
Angered by the medusa after all they have done for her, Ceceka's brow starts to twitch as she berates them. And then rage takes over. "Idiot! We'll have your head for this!"
Ceceka realizes that the mad medusa has no other course of action than to continue down the road she's been on for what must be an eternity. Perhaps a white lie instead of confrontational words would've served them better, but than again, Ceceka has no qualms with taking her life if he must.
Ceceka gives his weapon a firm twist, just to make sure. He looks at the defeated hag with disgust and, panting from the effort it took to defeat her, he attempts to sort out his thoughts. "Somehow I find it hard to believe that 'this' is the end of Iron Taviah."
The fighter digs deeper into his anger to fuel his enraged offense.
As Aily snaps out of the hag's paralyzing grasp, Ceceka throws his weight into a mighty swing.
Ceceka flies into a rage after shaking off the paralyzing effect, but his strikes are all anger and zero technique.
Ceceka freezes when the hag's claws get to him. While frozen, he continues to fight against the paralyzing effect and eventually, Ceceka breaks free.
"This time there will be no coming back for you!" And to show that those aren't just words, Ceceka introduces the hag to the sharp blade of his fauchard.
Ceceka hopes Humerus' words have stunned the hag because they sure managed to stun him.
Ceceka growls approvingly of the plan to present a bone to the obstructing shadows. There is, however, also something else on his mind. "I still insist we ought to burn this place down once we're done with it."
Ceceka inspects the blade and nods approvingly. "A formidable weapon, but not one I would use. If none of us will use it, the blade would be a mighty gift, one that can win us much influence and favor." He then lets Aily see to his injuries.
With one skeleton down, Ceceka focuses his efforts on downing the other.
Backed by Caraid, Ceceka stays in the fight and continues to launch one savage attack after another at their foes.
Ceceka wildly swings at their foes, knowing that if they don't down at least one of them in the next couple of seconds, the tide of battle might very well turn against them. Fast.
Bruised and battered, but kept in the fight through Caraid's magic, Ceceka strikes back. This horrid hall won't be the place where he dies! "To Hell with you! To Hell with this place! I'll burn this place down, even if it's the last thing I do!"
Ceceka warily eyes the stone mastiffs and then the seemingly indestructible shadow curtains. "We ought to burn this place. Geb left it to rot for a reason."
"HA!" Triumphantly, Ceceka kicks the fallen statue before turning his murderous attention to one of the two statues that are currently pummeling Humerus into a bony pulp.
Ceceka flies into a rage when the statue grabs him and puts him in a world of hurt.
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