:( Perhaps it's for the best. I've really enjoyed playing with you all as well, but indeed, the swing of the game just didn't seem to take, despire our best efforts.
See y'all on the boards!
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Tristan ponders the idea for a moment, before asking, "How localized is the effect? Would it cover a great area? How dense would this mist be? Could its sudden appearance be construed as unnatural?" The witch's mind races as he contemplates the potential benefits and repercussions of Aleixica's bold tactic.
Tristan shakes his head in response. "I haven't, but I don't object; duplicity will likely be our best bet to avoid detection and preserve our strength."
"Fortunately for us, between Miss Tas'Vere and I, it would seem that we have both bad luck and good luck to help us out. Can't say I much like the sound of this mysterious 'Phase Two', however." The witch fiddles with his amulet nervously as he tries to size up the full-elf in their presence.
Tristan closes his eyes and mutters a few words. Upon opening them, the irises of his eyes turn black, reflecting a subtle, almost negligible use of magic.
Tristan shovels more food into his mouth before asking, "Cn they bih disuhbld smhow...?"
Thanking Aleixica for the sumptuous bounty, the half-elf witch sits on the ground as the others talk. When Orsin directs the question at him, he pauses his chewing for a moment, giving it some thought. "...justice?" he responds, mouth still full of food.
At that moment, Tristan's stomach release an almost inhuman roar, noisily cutting through the din of anxious dialogue. "I...I haven't eaten in a few days..." he confesses, covering his embarrassment with a confrontational delivery.
"I heard that the Paralictor never speaks and gives his orders telepathically. No one has heard the man's voice in years, they say." Tristan relates the urban legend as if he's telling a ghost story, caught somewhere between giving the others a good laugh and actually believe it himself.
Tristan's distrustful eyes glare at the Songbird's gaze imperiously, almost as if to challenge him. A moment later they soften as the witch reminds himself that, for now at least, this man is their ally. "Just trying to get by, really. Leaving this city seems to be a lot harder since the Fall, especially if you don't have all the right paperwork. The Hellknights have imprisoned friends of mine for less than having their travel papers in triplicate." Tristan thinks about the ramshackle rooms he once called home. The authorities had likely found it, trashed it, and set up a surveillance ring in case the witch tried to return. No use in going back there now, I suppose. "I used to run a business cursing traitors, adulterers, and cheats in exchange for coin. I'm finding Hellknights and devils to be more exciting targets, however."
"Yes, I believe so, though..." Tristan looks at their surroundings in the Dead Sector. "...I don't think I know my way back from here."
"It's the plane of shadow," Tristan explains, "More of a different state of being than being in a different place. But he's right, we shouldn't stray. Where to now though?"
Hmm, not a straightforward teleportation spell...but equally impressive.
The witch gives the Songbird a curt nod, joining hands with the others. If he's going to do what I think then he's more powerful than I had originally realized. I'll have to keep that in mind if our dealings turn sour...
Tristan raises a limp-wristed arm towards the siege devil. He spits to the side before his hand suddenly snaps back with a sickening crack, releasing an invisible, but tangible sweep of force that glides across the battlefield, thrumming as it collides with the giant beast. The half-elf smirks and chuckles as the wave's sensations disappear entirely.
Tristan reaches into his spell component pouch and produces a fistful of glass. Practically shouting the words of his spell, the witch grinds the tiny grains and shards in his hand, his red blood turning to bright, white light in his palm. He winds his fist back and then throws the grains of bloodied glass forward, each turning into a tiny arc of lightning that join each other into a single powerful bolt.
F*cking Hellknights... Tristan begins barking orders at the others. He doesn't savor putting himself into a position of accountability, but he'd sized up the others the moment he met each of them and he knows that their minds are slower on the uptake than his. "Bishop, Lucius! Take this thing out before it brings the building crashing down around us! Ember, guard the Grulios boy and do what you can to slow down the siege devil. 'Leixi, we're on spell duty. If you have anything big and calamitous, now would be the time to use it." Those devils from before didn't seem to like lightning too much, maybe this one's the same? Only got one bolt left though...have to make it count.
I'm not always busy! But yeah, I have been pretty busy lately. I've been enjoying myself tremendously in this game and I'd definitely like to continue playing (if I can stay, of course). As busy as I am, I can certainly make time for this game. I think thus far I've been skittish about pushing things at the risk of dominating the conversations. I'm happy to change that if I've been playing it too safe. Let me know what y'all think. :)
Tristan looks over Aleixica's shoulder at the devil below.
What the hell that thing?!! "WE NEED A PLAN HERE, PEOPLE!" The witch's voice quavers slightly in fear.
Curses...I'm running out of spells! Thinking that fleeing may be the only available option, Tristan looks about the space wildly, searching for a place to escape from the Hellknights.
Tristan looks sidelong to Lucius since it was his safehouse they found themselves in earlier when fleeing from the Hellknights.
"Amelia told us what you've been doing," Tristan begins. "While there isn't a court in Andoran that would convict you, she's very worried about you. Maybe we can take you to her? We can figure out a plan, maybe identify who truly deserves to be run through with your..." Tristan's brow furrows in confusion as he eyes the man's blade skeptically, "...weapon." The witch clears his throat, "Look, I've spent years listening to pleas of sad people desiring petty vengeance and I can tell that's not what you're after. I think I can safely speak for everyone here when I say you're not the only one who seeks a reckoning...who seeks justice."
"Please, let us talk face to face," Tristan says to the open air. "We've sheathed our weapons, there's nothing more we can do to show our goodwill."
"My name's Tristan. This is Lucius, Ember, Bishop, and Aleixica. We were sent here by a friend of yours. A woman, she's worried about you. This..." he says, gesturing to the young nobleman, "...this isn't justice. I think you know that."
"It doesn't have to be this way. We know that this city has fallen even deeper into the mouth of Hell than any of us ever expected, but we can help you change that. Just give us a chance. My mother served you and your friends drinks once at the The Mermaid's Grotto, you owe us at least that much."
Bah, your Asmodean lies are wasted on me!
Sorry, I've been mega-slammed lately. I think Tristan's holding. He can't curse that which he can't perceive...
Tristan readies himself to give the Songbird the evil eye when he gets sight of him.
"We need to get you to safety, young one. The Songbird is likely drawing near," says Tristan. "We must make haste."
Tristan sighs, watching as the others try to set the boy at ease. In his work as a hexbroker, Tristan more people in various states of distress than he cared to recall. He was well-accustomed to settling other people's nerves when the situation called for it.
The witch leans down slightly to meet the boy's gaze at his level. "It's alright, we're not here to hurt you. As frightening as we appear, we're on your side. We won't let the Songbird lay a finger on you."
"This city...it drives even the holy to the most stubborn and heinous acts..." Tristan is disappointed in the way the events unfolded, but realizes that there's no use in sulking about it further. He follows behind Ember and Lucius.
Tristan, realizing that he's not Orsino Bessatte, reconsiders his position and gives the archon the evil eye.
"I agree," Tristan spits. I shouldn't be using my hexes for this sort of thing. If these legion archons are here to strike down the Songbird, then maybe he's beyond redemption. Tristan gives the remaining archon the evil eye, hoping that its misfortune will bring it a swift, merciful death. Now you're cursing legion archons? WHAT have you gotten yourself into?!
Curses! Fighting the legions of Heaven was supposed to be on the menu! "Don't bother with lightning, they're immune!" The witch reaches into a pocket in his jacket and produces a dried, withered octopus tentacle. Tristan drops the foul item to the ground and with a word of power and a deliberate stomp, he crushes a appendage underfoot. In that instant, giant black tentacles, burst up from the ground below the two archons and their prey, attempting to entangle all of them.
"We should press on. The longer we tarry, the more danger our helpless noble is in." Hale once again, Tristan's voice belies an air of cynicism. The witch nervously fiddles with a greasy lock.
Tristan nods in thanks to Aleixica's curative magic. "I've got it from here." He places a dirty palm to his mouth and bites down hard, drawing blood.
He pulls the bleeding hand from his mouth and clenches it into a fist, the blood in his palm transforming into a red-hot energy. "Infernal contracts herein signed,
Tristan, stable at 0 hp, drowsily he calls out, "I...I think...I think I need some help..." The greasy witch stumbles as he vainly attempts to keep his blood and innards inside his body.
Also, on Tristan's turn, he takes another five-foot step to AD27.
Still kicking, eh? Well, it looks like it's just you and me now, you stupid metal poppet. "JUST DIE ALREADY!" the half-elf screams, unleashing a sonic blast at the remaining Hellknight.
Knowing his fire spells would be useless against the erinyes sisters, Tristan taking a five-foot step and hopes he might dispose of the Hellknight quickly, releasing another intensified burning hands.
"Bishop, we need to help the others!" the witch snaps.
As the Hellknight's longsword cuts deep into Tristan's frame, the witch's eyes turn completely black. He exhales a cloud of black smoke into the Hellknight's face, enveloping his foe in the choking illusory fumes, cursing him.
"And the Hellknights know our faces," Tristan responds to Aleixica, "If we let them live, we'll have more than one life to worry about saving." Tristan races forward to AD29 and releases holds his hands out, fingers splayed, and thumbs touching. White flames pulsing with a ghostly energy fan outward, catching both Hellknights in its wave as the fire slinks about every corner. Sorry about this, Aleixica.
Tristan moves in, buttressing Bishop at the door's threshold.
Tristan heaves a sigh. "Gremilda's Enervating Bolt. You'll be substantially weaker until a priest can undo the magic." |