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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Mar 27, 2011 14:57:03 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Mar 27, 2011 14:57:03 GMT -5
67 Hours Ago "So she's gone somewhere in those mountains, and there's nothing we can do about it?" Kvothe looked at the other Mythics gathered around the holotable with him. Too much time was slipping through their fingers. Too many days had passed as they tried to come up with some form of a plan to rescue their stolen friend. And every time they met, they ran into the same wall. Again. And again. And again. They didn't have any idea where in the mountains Vorian had taken Iri. She was in the Itzli Mountains, that much they knew, but the Itzlis stretched on for tens of thousands of miles. Somewhere, in those tens of thousands of miles, they needed one very precise location. It was maddening, many orders of magnitude more so than looking for a needle in a haystack. Frustration had been mounting for all of them. For Kvothe, frustration was leading to an ill temper and snappiness. The damn memories from that girl that continued to assault his mind at random intervals weren't helping anything, either. "Is that what we've come to?" He ran a hand through his messy auburn hair, eyeing the others around him. His eyes had been gold earlier, but more and more now they were trending orange. His gaze lingered on Magnus for a trite longer than the others. The two of them hadn't been on the best of terms lately. Not since he'd killed that girl. He said nothing to the old Rishii, though. Pushing himself from the table--and nearly knocking his chair over in the process--he stood and started to pace irritably around the room, barely keeping the agitation in his presence in the Mythos contained. "So what are we supposed to do? Just leave her there so they can kill her, or worse? Abandon her?" Heat was starting to show in his voice, though his anger wasn't at any of his fellows in the room. "When I took the oath, I didn't s-" "First Sword Algaterra," said one of the others seated at the table, turning to Kvothe and addressing him by his rank within the Swords, "if you cannot keep your emotions in check, then you may leave." It was Bors. He was a powerful old veteran, with a deep voice and an even, deliberate way of speaking. His build was stocky, well muscled and powerful, and his short black hair had a dusting of grey near his temples. Bors was a High Sword, and Kvothe's direct superior; he hadn't been very pleased with Kvothe as of late either. Kvothe met the man's eyes for a moment and then looked away. "Forgive me," he muttered, "I don't mean to act so rashly." Bors studied Kvothe for a moment and then shook his head, looking to Magnus and then back to the satellite images displayed on the table. "I know young Irrisorrie is your friend, Kvothe. However, if you cannot plan without your emotions getting in the way, then your place is elsewhere until we have something worked out. I will not allow your hotheadedness to send more of our number rushing to their death." Kvothe's hands briefly clenched into fists and his jaw set stubbornly, but he said nothing. Only nodded. "It is frustrating trying to find them when they do not wish to be found, I will admit," Bors went on. "But with some time and patience-" Suddenly, the images projected by the table started to shift of their own accord. It zoomed out moved east, to a region of the mountains a few thousand miles west of the Aethon's edge. Bits of data started to appear in the air, hanging there before merging together and seeming to plunge into the map. Again the map zoomed in, brining a new area of the mountains into focus. It was on the northern side of the range, beyond which lay nothing but the stretch of land leading up to the northern ice cap. "What the?" Kvothe walked back over to the table, as shocked as the others must have been. Something stirred within his mind as he looked at the new mountains, but he didn't notice it. "How did tha-" Images flashed in his mind's eye. A great gateway hidden in the side of a mountain. An elaborate complex built within. Jeraud dragging her back, no matter how much she said she didn't want to go...
"There," he said, pointing to the west slope of one of the mountains. "It's there." Bors looked at Kvothe, blinking his dark brown eyes and giving a look that seemed to imply he wasn't certain that Kvothe was all there. "Are you... certain, Kvothe? How do you know the location so suddenly?" "Look," Kvothe said, looking to Bors and Magnus and the others, then the table, "I... I don't know. But it's there. Please, trust me." ----------- Presently ----------- They'd trusted him. Now, as Helios' first rays started to color the sky a faint red, the attack force lumbered over the Itzli Mountains. They would be there any moment. Kvothe's transport was further behind, though. He was armed and armored for battle, but his job here was not to fight in the main battle. The plan was this: a main force, made of Battle Mythics and Swords of Diligence and commanded by Bors, would assault the Unum base. It was a real attack, but it was also a distraction. Once the attack was commenced and the Unum attention was gained and held, a strike team would be dropped to move into the base, retrieve Iri, and get out to take her to safety. Kvothe was on the strike team. He was restless. Eager to get into the fray, but he had to be patient. Fas paced around the transport's floor, a reflection of Kvothe's irritation showing through their link. Kvothe wished so very much that he could be part of the main battle group, but he knew his duty and he had no intention of failing in it. Filth would fall die on his blade today either way. It was only a matter of time. A voice, too faint to make out the words, caught his attention. His gold eyes flicked up as their pilot looked back to them. "It's starting," he said. "The gunships with the main group have started to bombard the defenses around the base. The main force will be setting down shortly." "Good," Kvothe answered, more to himself, but loud enough for anyone else to hear, "that means we'll be setting down soon too." And that meant it was nearly time for his revenge. It was nearly time for an extermination.
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Apr 8, 2011 12:38:18 GMT -5
Post by Jace on Apr 8, 2011 12:38:18 GMT -5
67 Hours Ago The Blood Mythic stood at the back of the room, keeping well clear of the discussion and possible tables that Kvothe may or may not throw. He remained there silently, as he always did, his voice was not needed in this matter. Cruentus merely waited, watching as Kvothe went through another one of his childish rants. The Mythic had been acting even more foolishly since he had killed that girl, his tantrums were becoming rather weary. It had been some days since his interrogation of the prisoner, but they had yet to locate the Unum base. Patience was a virtue that the gods had bestowed upon Cruentus. Though he had his own personal agenda, he had not become irrational like Kvothe. Even Kvothe should know that if the Unum caught any wind of a raid or search, they would just disappear. They were a foe that should never be underestimated, Cruentus knew that fact well enough. Luckily Bors was not a complete idiot, and counseled caution. Cruentus had met the older man only once before, but their meeting had told him a great deal about the man. Before Cruentus' mind could go back to their conversation, the map on the table suddenly changed. Only moments later and Kvothe had apparently discovered the location of the base. Cruentus didn't doubt Kvothe's claim, information could be obtained in many ways. ----- Presently Cruentus sat silently on the strike ship, waiting for their turn to enter the Unum base. It would be the strike team's task to enter the base and retrieve Iri. The Blood Mythic could care less about extracting the girl, but there was someone else in there that he had a great interest in finding. Everyone else seemed rather set on saving the girl, though Cruentus could not see why. She was extremely irritating, the Mythic was still convinced she was a curse from the gods. His gaze shifted around the vessel and spotted Kvothe. The man was clearly restless, and was doing a terrible job of hiding it. He wondered if the man was going to make it through this raid alive. They knew where the base was, and that they had Iri, but that was about it. There was a reason they were attacking with force, who knows how many Unum soldiers were waiting in that base. The more the betterMore Unum, meant a great chance of someone knowing about Daria, it was simple probability. He had a plan, but he had to be quick. The others may not have recognized it, but Cruentus knew that look in Kvothe's eyes. If Cruentus didn't get ahead of the other man, there wouldn't be any Unum alive to interrogate.
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Kella
Fire and Blood
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Fire cannot kill a dragon.
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last online Oct 30, 2014 9:41:46 GMT -5
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Apr 18, 2011 10:56:42 GMT -5
Post by Kella on Apr 18, 2011 10:56:42 GMT -5
Crazed. Catatonic. Screaming. Silent. Sometimes, the girl was utterly still, eyes impossibly wide and staring, unmoving, at the wall. Other times, she would scream and thrash about the cell, as it tormented by demons. A few times, she groveled and begged for the pain to stop.
At first, there was a steady stream of Unum officers eager to volunteer for the shift, for a glimpse at this wild beast, like a freak at the circus or an animal in the zoo.
But the girl they saw was so chilling pitiful, so blood-curdlingly desperate that soon there were no volunteers. Some would come back chilled and trembling, others simply very quiet, very still. And yet, a few remained unperturbed.
One such soul was Sveta. This day, Sveta had taken every-other two-hour shift. She was utterly fascinated, captivated, entertained by the girl. Sveta wondered what kind of thing could cause this suffering, and if Sveta might be able to wield it.
A few of the Unum, the ones who were smart enough not to ask questions, believed that Vorian had done this to her. But Sveta knew better. If anything, the girl had rattled Vorian more than he had rattled her. Somewhere within that girl was contained this little maelstrom of terror that had a hold of her now.
The girl practically inhaled any water given to her, though she gasped and coughed like she was swallowing acid. A few of the guards had tried to get her to eat, but whenever she saw food, she got... squirelly, eyes darting this way and that, movements quick and jerky, muttering paranoid about poison and rot.
Sveta expected the pain of hunger had simply joined the myriad of other pains her mind had whipped together. How fascinating, this self-torture. That same inner fire had kept her going, panic just as lively as it had been that first day she'd cracked, though perhaps a bit more feverish now.
She was paler, skin dry and cracking, hair tangled in a wild mess -- what she hadn't pulled out, anyway. There was a gaunt lifelessness to her; wide, wild eyes, pupils dilated so far the gold was invisible, dark patches under her eyes and cheeks, a palsic tremor to her movements.
Sveta wondered fleetingly what Vorian planned on doing with her. She was really surprised he'd kept her alive this long. Perhaps he intended to set a trap? Draw Kvothe out?
Sveta leaned against the wall, thick fur insulating against the cold. She sighed pensively, watching with some interest the mist that spiraled from her nostrils. She looked beyond the bars at the girl, little more than a pile in the corner. Right now, she was quiet, as every so often the girl did sleep -- albeit fitfully and plagued with nightmares.
As if in time with Sveta's thoughts, the girl moaned in her sleep. Sveta smiled wickedly. Her mind filled with the fantasy of inflicting this state upon other people. The images flashed through her mind, vivid as life, stirring up a sort of glee deep within her.
Soon, a sound just as chilling as Iri's screams echoed down the hall.
Sveta's laugh.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Apr 19, 2011 15:07:47 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Apr 19, 2011 15:07:47 GMT -5
16 Hours Ago A candle flickered softly on the edge of a moderately-sized desk, casting shadows all around the compact room. Like ghouls they danced on the walls, darkening and fading in turn according to the flame's whims. The room was dimly lit beyond the aura of light that the candle's dancing flame cast. Some might even call it dark. Vorian didn't mind it though. He'd always been able to see well in dimly lit areas--a natural inheritance of his breeding--and prolong exposure to Etherium had only helped. There were light panels he could use, built into the roof of the room as they were anywhere else, but he oft preferred reading by candlelight to other lighting sources--save daylight--when he was alone. Presently, he hunched over a desk in one of the offices in their base that was safely tucked in the northern edge of the Itzli Mountains, far away from prying Mythic eyes. There were few safer places to be, for members of a guerilla group like the Unum. He was reading reports for the time being; plans and intel that was passed back and forth between some of the higher-ranking Unum officers. Intelligence reports on trade, word on how various raids and kidnappings had gone. Continued planning to lay the groundwork for a major plan of theirs, all of these things. Some parts were new. Others were things he already knew. Even as he read, something else weighed in at the back of his mind. The girl. Irrisorie. She was an interesting one. Her mind was a puzzle, quite unlike any he'd seen before. The first experience with her, had been eye opening, and the second... intriguing, to say the least. Some information had been gleamed from her, when he invaded her mind while she lay on the floor of that cell. But he was sure there was more; it was the only reason she wasn't dead yet. That and a matter of pride. Every puzzle could be solved. For the time being, he'd left her alone, ordered that she only be given enough food and water to be kept alive, and bided his time. He'd crack her one way or the other. And if all else failed, he had the telepathic strength to beat her mind into a stupor and take what he needed that way. But that would be so brutish. Almost li- Knock! Knock! "Vorian!" Orange threaded through Vorian's slate-grey eyes as he looked up from his readings. He'd told Azeed not to bother him. "What do you want, Azeed?" The door cracked open and a youth stuck his head in. He was a fair-skinned, almost pale boy of nineteen years, with short blonde hair and bright green eyes. He was Vorian's 'student,' in a way. "I'm sorry to bother you, Vorian." Azeed stepped fully into the room. Even in the dim light Vorian could tell Azeed wasn't meeting his eyes. He had a way of doing that when he was nervous around Vorian. It irritated the Rilan to no ed. "Um... S-Saine has sent a message to you. You are being summoned to the Aethon headquarters. Immediately." What does she want? Vorian rubbed the bridge of his nose and gathered his reports before starting toward the door. "Very well. I assume she wants me to come alone, then?" Azeed nodded. Vorian sighed softly. A flick of his wrist gave rise to a little gust of air that killed the candle's flame as he stepped into the hall. The door closed behind him and off he walked, motioning for Azeed to follow. "I thought so. If that's the case, then you'll stay here. You'll report to Sveta until I return." Azeed paused. Vorian glanced over his shoulder momentarily as he walked. He swore the boy looked even more pale than normal. "Yes... yes sir, Vorian." Azeed didn't sound excited. Vorian just chuckled. "Good. Now run along. I have a few things to handle before I go." Presently [/center] "Alright, touching down! Get ready!" As the transport's pilot shouted his heads up to them, Kvothe's attention was elsewhere. Fighting raged down in the valley below as the Mythics clashed with their heretic brethren. Swords ran on armor, staves and glaives shattered bone and rent flesh open and painted the snow red. Laserfire zinged this way and that, from the fighters on either side that used them. The Mythos itself was a maelstrom of chaos and fury and death as both sides used it it awe-inspiring displays of power. This isn't some skirmish like all the others, he thought, glancing over to see a wounded Mythic attack craft drop from the sky in an emergency landing with thick black smoke trailing behind it. This is a battle. A real, full-on battle.More smoke was curling into the early morning sky where the bombardment had pounded against defensive positions around the mountain. Explosions boomed and echoed as the aerial assault continued to pound the Unum base from above. Then it all passed out of view as they moved behind another side of the mountain. Down the transport dipped until it touched down on the snow near a cliff in the side of the mountain. There was a side entrance here, a secondary way in the strike team could breach while they battle force pushed down the front door. The hatches on the side of the transport opened with a hiss!. The frigid air from outside blew in and hit them, feeling to Kvothe like a slap in the face as he stood and jumped down into the powder. As he waited for the others to disembark, he adjusted his gloves and pulled the part of his cloak wrapped around his neck up to cover the bottom of his face, up to the tip of his nose. His grip tightened on Pietas as he looked to the others. His gaze lingered on Cruentus for a moment and then he turned to face the doors. "Let's go. Keep alert. Probably still have this entrance guarded, even with the battle going on at the main way in." The transport's engines roared as it took to the air again and turned to proved cover for the team as it moved up to the gate. Now their part was begun. Now there was little left to do to but make the breach and get Iri out. And for Kvothe, to make sure as many heretics along the way got the fate they so richly deserved. ------------ No, no, no! This can't be happening! Azeed's hurried footfalls echoed down the stone corridor as he ran, cloak flapping wildly behind him. They weren't supposed to be able to find us here! He found the next way he was looking for and turned, nearly tumbling over in his haste. How could this happen? Everyone had said they were safe from the Mythics here. Another dull boom echoed and the mountain shook. Dust fell from the ceiling. If we're safe from them here then why are they knocking on the door?!Stairs. He was looking for a set of spiral sta- There they were! He nearly leapt toward them and ran as fast as he dared down them. She was supposed to be down there. Mythos please let her still be where she said she would. He burst into the dungeon, ran past cells that were empty and occupied alike. There was a presence deeper down. A cold presence; one that reminded him of Vorian's in some ways, though it was rather different in others. It was Sveta. He still didn't know why Vorian left him with her when he went away. Something about her sent chills down his spine. "Sveta!" he yelled as he came to Shistavanen woman, throwing an arm out against the wall for support as he bent at the waist, breathing heavily. He didn't even pay any mind to the crazed girl in the cell that Sveta was keeping vigil over. "The... The Myt... We're being attacked!"
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Apr 23, 2011 20:25:24 GMT -5
Post by Jace on Apr 23, 2011 20:25:24 GMT -5
The transport weaved in and out through the smoke that had risen from the Unum complex. The bombardment had done its job, it was almost time for them to do theirs. As they dipped closer towards the mountain, the tell tale sound of battle became clearer. Cruentus hadn't really stopped to consider the scale of the operation they were undertaking. He had fought Unum here and there, but he considered those instances skirmishes. If he wanted to get his sister back, chances were he would have to bring down the powerful organization to do so. The gods had granted him a special attachment to the Mythos, but even he could not wage a war by himself.
"Alright, touching down! Get ready!"
The Blood Mythic had been ready for quite some time, so he found the announcement quite unnecessary. Then again, he had been paired with a bunch of fools, so maybe it wasn't so unnecessary. The transport moved away from the main battle to the other side of the mountain where there was another entrance. Kvothe's warning reflected his own thoughts as the ship touched down and they exited the transport.
Cruentus stepped off the transport and onto the white powdery snow. His eyes immediately began to scan the nearby surrounding, making sure there wasn't an ambush waiting for them. He hadn't expected there to be one, but even if there was, the transport was providing cover for their approach. Cruentus often found himself as the one to scout ahead, mostly by personal choice. The Mythic had a knack for keeping hidden, and it usually meant he was alone. He didn't say a word to any of the others, he merely set off toward the entrance.
He moved cautiously, but he arrived just outside the gate in a matter of minutes. Leaning around a corner her studied the alternate entrance, mentally making notes of what he saw. The gate itself wasn't too big, resting in a small nook tucked away in the mountain. It was no wonder that the Unum remained unseen, they chose their bases carefully. As the others began to approach, Cruentus held a hand to signal them to remain where they were. A trio of guards remained at the entrance, looking rather nervous. There was no way they could approach them without being seen, which limited their options.
Holding out his hand once more, he held up three fingers, indicating the number of guards to the rest of the team. He then pointed at Kvothe and motioned for the other Mythic to join him. Cruentus didn't much care for Kvothe, but he had seen the man in combat and he could handle himself. He removed his staff, Aetas, from his back and looked at Kvothe. The intention that his dark green eyes portrayed was simple, rush the guards and neutralize them. He waited a few moments for Kvothe to ready himself, turned the corner and sprinted toward the guards.
Cruentus leveled Aetas, the opening aimed at one of the guards, and pressed the small button on the staff. A deadly metal projectile raced forward straight into one guard's throat. Gathering the Mythos about him, he used it to aid him in closing the distance between the second guard. The guard barely had time to draw his own blade but Cruentus deftly knocked aside the hasty stroke. Then with a nimble spin, Aetas crashed into the man's skull and he crumbled to the ground.
Noticing that Kvothe had taken care of the other, Cruentus moved over to the first guard he killed. He knelt down and yanked out the projectile lodged in the man's throat. There was an odd sucking sound as he did, but he didn't turn to watch as crimson blood continued to pour out of the man's wound. He replaced the deadly item back in his staff and took a step back. Now that they were about to enter the Unum base, he would let Kvothe lead, so he could take the opportunity to fade away in the chaos.
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Kella
Fire and Blood
4,089 posts
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Fire cannot kill a dragon.
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last online Oct 30, 2014 9:41:46 GMT -5
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Apr 26, 2011 23:15:12 GMT -5
Post by Kella on Apr 26, 2011 23:15:12 GMT -5
Sveta lit a sprig of etherium. The smoke rose in little blue snakes, twisting delicately through the air, until Sveta breathed in deeply, absorbing them into herself. She could feel the customary rattle in her bones, the sharpness of her mind, the lifting of the dark. The unenlightened truly were a lesser type of being.
The girl was awake. She did not stir, and arise. It was like a switch had been flipped. She was asleep, and then she was acutely awake. Sveta watched with amusement as a tremor shivered through the girl. Her eyes were fixed on the sprig. It was as if she trembled between an intense desire for the stuff, and a complete and utter terror towards Sveta. Sveta grinned, long, white teeth gleaming in the blue light that rose off the etherium.
"You are leekink that, eh?"
Sveta cleared the air of smoke again. A new tendril rose, blurring as the air shifted slightly. Someone had opened the door into the dungeon. Sveta's ears pivoted towards the sound, though her manner did not change. Someone was throwing themselves loudly down the stairs, and pounding through the hall.
"Sveta!" a boy yelled. When he reached her, he doubled over, hand steadying him against the wall. Weakling. "The... The Myt... We're being attacked!"
Sveta continued to regard Iri, who had seemed not to notice the commotion at all, and was still rather fixated on the little rod, the bit of tightly rolled paper which held within it more wisdom, more enlightenment, more clarity of mind than any scroll.
She turned her gaze to Azeed, when it suited her. Deep, down within the bowels of the mountain, stillness prevailed.
"You are beink fool." She pushed off the wall and stretched her shoulders, shifting to face Azeed. "Be cohmposink yourself. More people be actink leek you, whole mountain be cohmink doown."
Sveta ran a claw along the edge of her jaw, thinking. "Why they be cohmink now? Eet ees noht having much of the strah-tee-geery." Her eyes darted towards Iri. "Aaaaaaaaah, Sveta be knowink why. You ees very special gerl, eh?" Her eyes narrowed, in a sly sort of way.
"I ahm needink my stahff. They weell noht be breakink thees dungeon tonight." She turned back to Azeed. "Boy, you weell go be gettink my stahff now, and not be dyink until I have it, or I will be brinkink you bahk from dead and killink you myself."
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Apr 29, 2011 12:58:26 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Apr 29, 2011 12:58:26 GMT -5
The wind blew and bit at them as they made their way to the side gate. Even dressed in warm layers as he was, it still found ways to slip down through Kvothe's clothing and touch his skin with icy fingers. It might have bothered him most days. Today was different, though. Today, the fires of focus and fury burned hot and bright within him, compelling him to keep his attention on the unfolding mission, on the coming extermination. The only acknowledgement he gave the wind was to push some of his auburn hair from his eyes.
Cruentus took point as they moved to the mountain's foreboding entrance. That was fine with Kvothe; he was more of a tank, rather than a scout. Let Cruentus do what he was good at doing. "Hold," he said softly to the others, holding up a hand to tell them to do so as the wind whisked his words away. Give Cruentus time to look and see what they'd have to deal with. Then they could go.
Three fingers. Three guards.
The two of them could deal with the guards on their own.
Giving another signal for the team to stay put behind an outcrop that would shelter them from the wind, Kvothe loped ahead to join Cruentus. As he did, he spotted a guard standing off to himself. A quick motion to Cruentus let the Blood Mythic know that Kvothe would handle the loner, and they split up.
Cruentus took the first kill with the projectile fired from his staff. Kvothe's target turned at the sound and froze when he saw his partner laying on the ground with a nasty looking weapon stick out of him. He opened his mouth to yell a warning at the same time Kvothe lifted his hand and muttered something under his breath.
The air around the Unum guard's head began to thicken and coagulate. He struggled to breath, but he couldn't; the air had turned almost to a thick jelly around him. His staff fell into the powder in his shock, he reached up to claw at his neck as panic began to radiate from him.
And then Kvothe was on him.
The Rilan rammed into him, using his two hundred pounds to slam the guard back into the unforgiving stone behind him. Pietas had been left, planted into the snow as Kvothe lunged at his prey, and now Talio gleamed in hand in its place, thirsty for use. Thirsty for the blood of a traitor.
There was a moment where their eyes met, terrified brown staring into a mix of righteous red and gold. Then Talio plunged into the man's stomach and he gave a scream that Kvothe's power held soundless. He grabbed the man by the shoulder, pulled him forward to ram his blade into his flesh all the way up to the hilt.
And then, after a moment, he twisted around and drew his sword out of him as he threw him to the ground. A boot to the side broke ribs, and another to the throat crushed it. Kvothe leaned down to clean the blood from his sword on the man's clothing. He slipped Talio back into the sheath that hung through his sash, called Pietas back to hand. Then he simply left him there, to die a painful death alone in the snow, without ceremony or a word spoken to him. He would die alone. Forgotten on the slopes of a mountain at one of the ends of the world.
A traitor doesn't deserve anything less.
"Let's go," he said to the rest of the team when he got back to them. They moved to the gate, a few casting uneasy glances to the man choking on his own blood in the snow. He was of little concern though. Kvothe took the lead again, with Fas trotting at his side. He paused on front of the gate, ran his hand over the cool, rough stone surface. It was not large, but it was solid. Still, it wouldn't take much for Kvothe to simply tear the thing down. But that would be loud, might announce their presence to any nearby Unum lurking within.
"Search the bodies," he muttered softly to the other two of their four-man group. They nodded and split off. A few moments later, one returned with a small card from the body of the man Kvothe had left to die. He handed it to Kvothe, who ran it through a hidden reader. The gate shuddered, then opened.
They were in.
"Here we go," he said, tightening his grip on his staff. Fas slipped into the base before him. He looked back to the others from the corner of an eye. "We may be here to find Iri, but leave none of the filth that we find alive."
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"Go f-f-find your st-staff?" Azeed stammered, still breathing hard. Why oh why did Vorian leave him with this woman whenever he went away? "But S-Sveta the fig-"
He stopped suddenly, chewing on the inside of his lip. He didn't want to make her mad. Mythos no, that would be bad. But there was a battle going on. Truth be told, he was afraid. Afraid of running out into a real fight without Vorian to keep him safe.
"You're too soft, Azeed." Vorian's voice echoed in his mind, repeating words he'd heard time and time again. "You won't always have someone to hold your hand when things get hard."
Was he right? Am I soft? He probably only need to look at how much the Shistavanen unnerved him to see the answer to that.
"Alright," he muttered, standing upright. He glanced back toward the stairs, trying to fight down his nervousness. At least if he went to get Sveta's staff he could get his own; as things were, he didn't have anything more than the small dagger at his hip. "I'll be back soon. I promise."
As he turned around and ran back toward the stairs, he paused to look back to Sveta and the girl in cell next to her. Is this really all because of her?
Then he was gone, darting up the stairs as the mountain shook once more.
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May 12, 2011 19:39:52 GMT -5
Post by Jace on May 12, 2011 19:39:52 GMT -5
"We may be here to find Iri, but leave none of the filth that we find alive."
Kvothe said some good things every once in awhile, even if it was in one of his childish tantrums. Cruentus held no love for the Unum, they tended to wear on his normal composure a little more than he would like. That being said, neither was he in a rage like Kvothe was, it was rather inefficient. Plus, Cruentus couldn't afford to let his comrade slaughter all the Unum, not until he had extracted the necessary information.
As the Mythic stepped into the Unum base, he looked backed towards the way they came. He couldn't fully shake the growing sense of foreboding, plus it just wouldn't do for them to get caught in an ambush. Even though this was a hidden entrance, Cruentus had felt they had entered just a little too easily. He had a tendency to be overly cautious though, so it may amount to nothing in the end. His cautious nature had kept him alive many times before, so it wasn't something easily discarded.
Cruentus slowly began to create distance between himself and the strike force as they continued to proceed through the base. It was still too early for him to disappear, his absence would be noted. The rest of the strike team was content with him keeping his distance but it would be odd for him to go off on his own at the stage. He still didn't have a clear understanding of the structure of the base, so roaming around blindly wasn't the best option at this point.
The Blood Mythic was sure that no one was following them, yet they still hadn't encountered anyone else. The Unum shouldn't be so naive enough to send all their forces to deal with the 'main' assault. Most of the strike force wasn't making an effort to suppress their presence so eventually someone would notice them as intruders. Cruentus had to make a choice between searching for other presences or hiding his own, he opted for latter. The Blood Mythic placed a great deal of importance on the element of surprise. It was only a matter of time before they stumbled upon their Unum foe.
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Kella
Fire and Blood
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Fire cannot kill a dragon.
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May 13, 2011 16:11:58 GMT -5
Post by Kella on May 13, 2011 16:11:58 GMT -5
The sickly girl huddled in the corner. The mountain shuddered. "Hell is coming," she whispered. She hid her hands with her face, but her wide, staring eyes showed through.
Sveta exhaled, fog forming on her moist breath. She stepped up to the bars, and grinned down on the pathetic girl. "Hell ees already here."
With a swish of fur and claws, she spun to regard the base of the staircase. That idiot boy had run to fetch her staff, but she was smarter than to count on him coming back. She stalked towards the stairs, stretching her arms and cracking her knuckles. Sveta rolled her kneck, loosening the muscles, and licked her teeth. She was hungry.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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May 17, 2011 12:56:15 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on May 17, 2011 12:56:15 GMT -5
The mountain shook. Alarms began to blare throughout the base, to alert any Unum fighter that was too dense to realize they were being attacked. Azeed sprinted down dark hallways, trying to ignore their warning songs. All he wanted to do was leave. Just leave the mountain. Go through the escape route deep underground and avoid the fighting altogether. But Sveta needed her staff. Why can't she get it herself, he wondered forlornly as he skittered around a corner. Why do I have to go back into danger just to get her her staff? He paused again to lean against the wall. He was tired and cold and hungry, and he'd done far too much running today. Right now he just wanted to curl up in a ball and wish all the troubles away. Or go to where Vorian was. Vorian could keep him safe. Why did you leave me here? Why couldn't I go with yo-"Hey! Boy!" Azeed nearly jumped at the voice. His attention snapped to a doorway a few paces down the hall, where an angry-looking reptilian head was sticking out. "Y-yes?" "If you're not doing anything then get in here!" Azeed stood up from the wall and started to slowly back away. "I-I am. I j-just needed to t-t-take a breather for a mi-minute." He looked back over his shoulder and gestured in the direction he'd been going. "I ha-have to get a staff for Sv-" "Looks like you're just standing there to me. Come'ere!" "But please, you don't understand! I have to g-" Invisible hands wrapped around his throat and killed the words on his tongue. He felt himself leave the floor and hang in the air, feet dangling a few short inches above the ground. He clawed vainly at his throat, but there was nothing for his hands to grab. "Look, boy," the reptile said dangerously as he stepped fully into the hall. He was a Nikto, now that Azeed could see him fully. "I don't care who your mentor is. If you're just gonna stand there, then I'm gonna put you to work. The Mythics are likely to breach our walls, and we need another hand to help us purge our computer systems. We can't leave information for them to find, do you understand me?" Azeed nodded desperately. The Nikto released him and he fell to the ground panting, as if he hadn't been short enough on breath already. "Good. Now get in here." What choice do I have? Anxiety swelled in his stomach. Today wasn't supposed to go like this! Now Sveta's gonna kill me if some Mythic doesn't. He picked himself up and quietly followed the Nikto into the terminal room. "You're too soft, Azeed."The mountain shook again. Why did you abandon me to die?------------- Everything was quiet. Eerily so. It wasn't silent--far from it, with the alarms blaring and the sounds of fighting echoing faintly off in the distance. But where the group of four moved, it was quiet. Whirling red alarm lights built onto the ceiling wildly threw shadows all about. There was nothing in those shadows, though. No person trying to hide from the fighting. No veiled shadow waiting to strike. Simply nothing. It reeked of a trap. This doesn't make any sense, Kvothe mused silently. As the team reached a corner, he held up a hand indicating that they wait. He peeked around the corner and down hall. It went on for a few dozen meters, then split. One path went off to the left, the other led down deeper into the mountain. "There's a split down the way," he said softly, turning back to his partners. "One way is just a turn, the other way looks like it goes down a level. If we're looking for the dungeons, down is probably the way to go." He waited a moment, gave the others a chance to prepare and moved around the corner. "Stay on your gaurd," he said telepathically. " It's been too quiet."The group moved down the hall with little in the way of trouble. But, as they reached the end, Kvothe held his hand up for them to pause again. The other tightened on Pietas' shaft. Something in the Mythos pricked at his senses. There was someone coming. Several someones. He lowered his hand and drew Talio with it. A righteous furor glinted in his golden eyes. Today the sword would bathe in the blood of the unclean. "Get ready," he muttered.
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Jun 14, 2011 5:00:26 GMT -5
Post by Jace on Jun 14, 2011 5:00:26 GMT -5
The adolescent Sword of Diligence wasn't the only one who could sense that something was off. As they approached the hall, Cruentus slowly began to fade away further from the group. He was vaguely aware of Kvothe's telepathic warning at this point, though the message was clear enough. The Blood Mythic couldn't fathom why his 'comrade' had found it necessary to convey something so obvious. He could only let out a mental sigh, unable to understand how he had managed to get stuck with this group of idiots.
It seemed that trouble was fast approaching them, and not just ahead of them. Cruentus had completely suppressed his presence, and backed silently into one of the dimly lit doorways in the hallway. He would let Kvothe exact his 'justice' on those in front of them. It was down to the Blood Mythic to hold the rear, unfortunately he needed the strike group to remain alive. Their presence provided the distraction that he would need to gather the information he required. The last thing he wanted was to be the focus of the Unum defense efforts. Enemies closed in from the front, and silently from the rear, standard tactics.
Unfortunately for the Unum, their basic tactics didn't factor in Cruentus' and his rather deadly set of skills. He could sense at least three of them, they approached with a sense of anticipation, that of predator relishing a kill. Cruentus waited for two of them to pass him, his fellow Mythic realized all too late what had happened. A cloaked figure sprung from the shadows, and suddenly the predator had become the prey. The Blood Mythic brought Aetas down right upon the first man's skull. There was a resounding crack from the swift but brutal attack and Cruentus' first opponent crumpled to the ground.
The other two were quicker to react, and Cruentus' second strike was quickly knocked aside. He worked quickly to parry the incoming strikes from his foes, but a hallway was not ideal for combat with a staff. Cruentus was already in motion, attempting to gain a more advantageous position. His opponents swords proved to be much better weapons in this situation, and his unarmed skills were lacking. Yet Cruentus' movements remained confident as he skillfully parried the attacks directed at him. Another strike came in a upward arc, and Cruentus spun backwards as the blade nicked his cheek.
Even as he spun away, he loosened his grip on Aetas and let it clatter to the ground. His hand flash to his back drawing the second of his three staffs, Veritas. Such combat did not suit him, and he was long to move on to more important matters. He leveled Veritas at the man to the left, and let the Mythos surge through him. A powerful arc of lightning shot out from Veritas and struck his foe square in the chest, lifting him off his feet and into a wall. The final Unum soldier charged forward in attempt to close the gap and attack before Cruentus could fire another blast of lightning. Once again the Blood Mythic let go of his staff, but this time dived for the floor, just under his opponents swing. His fingers snatched Aetas and swung the staff low, sweeping his foe's legs from under him. Cruentus raised the staff, and brought it down, the deadly razors piercing the guard's chest.
No doubt this was the first test of many;he proceeded forward to where he assumed Kvothe had successfully dealt with the others.
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Kella
Fire and Blood
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Fire cannot kill a dragon.
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last online Oct 30, 2014 9:41:46 GMT -5
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Jun 23, 2011 23:19:52 GMT -5
Post by Kella on Jun 23, 2011 23:19:52 GMT -5
Sveta’s nose twitched. It hung in the air, drifting slowly down from above, amongst vague flashes of light and distant noises, succulent as steak, mouth-watering as blood.
The smell of Mythics.
Sveta’s long, pink tongue ran over her nose, her long white fangs. Anticipation tingled in her chest. Her mind sharpened, all things drew into focus. She prepared for the hunt.
A sound rushed around Sveta, potent as a war cry. Her ears instinctively swiveled, then her muzzle curled into a grin. The girl was screaming again.
“Yes, girl, yes. Call them. Make them come to Sveta...”
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Jul 5, 2011 18:39:38 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Jul 5, 2011 18:39:38 GMT -5
"Form up," Kvothe said quietly to his companions. His voice was calm, still as mountain lake's waters, but it held an air of command to it. An expectance that his words would be obeyed, and be obeyed without question.
Kvothe hadn't fought often with Cruentus, but he knew the Blood Mythic would take up the rear guard. The rest of the group would look to the front, with one man by Kvothe's side to form their front line, and another hanging back between the two sides so she could act as support for whoever needed it.
The group acted quickly. Sevrael, a Farghul and veteran Sword came up to stand near Kvothe. He was a head taller than Kvothe, and had a sleek, slender build that did well to hide the strength that rested in his lean muscles. His armor was light and he kept a short sword strapped onto his back, along with a long knife on his hip. All in all, he didn't seem very threatening. Until you saw the comfortable familiarity with which he drew the sword from his back, or the air of ease that surrounded him despite the way a battle was raging not three hundred yards away.
Or the battle that was swiftly approaching them.
"Peace, First Sword," he said calmly, addressing Kvothe by rank with his lilting, almost musical voice. "A leaf blown on the winds of emotion is quickly lost in battle. A tree, deeply rooted and solid stands much longer."
"I'm fine, Sevrael. " Kvothe spread his feet slightly as he felt the presences draw nearer. He barely leaned forward to shift his weight toward the balls of his feet. "I'm not a rookie."
Sevrael snorted softly, a noise that sounded almost like a sneeze. "As you say." He flipped his weapon in his hand and held it reversed. Then he crouched slightly, and leaned forward as if on the edge of bursting into a run. "But be mindful of yourself, young Kvothe. Emotion is a powerful tool in battle, but it can be as dangerous to the wielder as it can to the enemy."
Kvothe flicked his eyes over to the Farghul and shook his head slightly. "I know."
No sooner had Kvothe finished laying Pietas on the ground than the Unum fighters appeared. There were six coming from the front. Either three-to-one or two-to-one, depending on how the rear fares. Kvothe flicked his eyes to the side, but didn't turn his head. He could feel some other attackers coming from behind. Cruentus would handle them.
Good odds for us.
He caught a signal from Sevrael in the periphery of his vision. Fore and middle finger extended, then fist closed and lowered to the side. A plan of attack. Kvothe nodded. Sevrael returned the nod, and they acted.
Before the approaching fighters could come in range, Kvothe set his feet wide and took a single powerful step foward. His free hand arced over his head, gathering power from the Mythos. Foot and hand snapped down as one, and an invisible wave of compression flowed out through the air before him. The moment his foot slammed into the ground, Sevrael exploded forward, blurring with speed given by the Mythos to complete the second part of the opening one-two punch.
The wall of air slammed into the oncoming Unum like a train. Some were blown back; others found the strength to resist and were merely knocked back a few steps. Sevrael fell on two of them, a whirlwind of steel and leather and fur. One fell with a bloody gash across his chest before he even knew what was happening.
As one of them found his feet, Kvothe moved. His free hand came up and clawed at the air and drew back as if pulling on a chain. The Unum was yanked through the air and flew until Talio cut him from the air.
And then Kvothe leapt into the fray.
------
"You done clearin' that damn system boy?!"
Azeed swallowed hard. It was hard to type with his hands shaking the way they were. "I-I-I'm nearl d-done"
The Nikto yelled a stream of words. Most of them were in a language Azeed didn't recognize, but he could pick out "useless," "stupid," "incompetent," and "boy."
"I'm sorry!" He hunched over the panel and typed faster. "It's starting the wipe."
"Move! Move boy, get out of the way!" He wasn't given much change to do anything else; before he could fully process the words, he felt strong hands pressing on his left side and shoving him aside.
He stumbled three steps until he found his balance and turned around, trying not to look as utterly terrified as he felt. He had the distinct feeling that his efforts weren't working.
Azeed just stood there, waiting to be addressed again, but the Nikto looked more focused on what he was doing than on the trembling boy not five paces away from him. Rather than disturb him and incur more uncalled for wrath, Azeed worked on calming himself. He tapped lightly on the Force, closed his eyes, breathed deeply...
"You just gonna stand there, or do somethin', boy?"
Oh no... Azeed's eyes flew open to see the angry tech bearing down on him. "I'm sorry! I just didn't think you wanted me to dis-"
In his desperation to get away from the Nikto, his foot got caught on the edge of a table and he started to fall. The Nikto caught him, and his brief feeling of relief was replaced with terror when he was lifted from his feet and slammed back against the wall.
"You listen t'me, boy." The Nikto's eyes narrowed dangerously at Azeed. He reeked of Etherium. "I don't give a damn if your teacher's Saine herself, you get on these systems and wipe them. There's too much on these for the Mythics to find, you hear me?"
"Y-yes sir," Azeed stammered. He put his hands on the Nikto's scaly wrists, trying to loosen the hold on the front of his shirt. "But Sveta sent me to g-"
The Nikto shook him, banging his head back into the wall. "I just told you boy, I don't care. Do your work here, an' you can go get whatever the dog sent you for. This is more important."
Azeed might have opened his mouth to argue if he hadn't been so terrified. As things were, he simply nodded and was set down.
I can't do this. He rushed to another terminal and began the wiping process. I can't be in a battle like this. Tears started to well in his eyes. He fought to keep them back. Six moons, Vorian, why did you leave me here?
I'm going to die here. Azeed glanced over his shoulder at the tech. If they don't kill me, he will.
And if he doesn't, Sveta will.
------
Blood splattered wetly on the rough stone floor as Kvothe pulled Talio from last attacker's stomach. The man's body was limp, but Kvothe held him by the throat. He'd watched him die. He'd stared into his Mythos-forsaken eyes as life's last light left him. And now that he was dead, Kvothe simply dropped him. The body flopped bonelessly to the ground.
The fight had been a blur. The six had fallen like wheat before Kvothe and Sevrael's combined assault. Sevrael was nursing a light nick on his side, and Kvothe now bore a light cut on his right forearm, but they were fine, all things considered.
"I should have known you'd use the terrorbeast form," Sevrael said idly as Kvothe wiped Talio clean on the clothes of one of the fallen. "It suits you now. Aggressive, dangerous in its beauty... I didn't know you knew it." The Farghul's voice rose slightly at the end, making the statement a question.
"I might have studied it a bit a while back," Kvothe muttered. He stood to his feet, slid Talio back into its sheath and called Pietas back to his hand. Fas stood up from licking blood from his claws and strode to stand beside him. "Doesn't matter now, though. We need to keep mo-"
A scream rang out then. It echoed up from the stairwell before them. It was high and piercing, and touched him to the bone.
It was Iri.
"Iri," he breathed. "Just hold on."
When Kvothe turned to face the others, a new fire burned in his eyes, in his voice. "Come on! We have to move!" He waved them forward and started to head for the stairs. "She's down below!"
Kvothe paused at the stop of the way down only long enough for the others to catch up, and then he lead them down to save her.
Down to the dungeon.
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Jul 22, 2011 16:53:06 GMT -5
Post by Jace on Jul 22, 2011 16:53:06 GMT -5
It seemed that Kvothe and the others had managed to deal with their opponents without much trouble. Cruentus really hadn't expected any less, while he didn't care for them, the Mythics tended to be well trained. No doubt all of their training would be brought to bear in the following hours. They were a small strike force in the heart of an enemy base for which the enemy numbers were unknown. On paper then, they were in over their heads. Luckily numbers weren't all that mattered,and they still had some semblance of surprise remaining. Cruentus was thinking about his next move when Iri's scream reached the group.
Cruentus wasn't surprised when he watched Kvothe rouse the others to action and rush towards the dungeons. He had expected this moment to come at some point, and was still slightly unsure of how to proceed. Kvothe's emotional investment in this mission wasn't giving him a clear head to think with, though the Blood Mythic wasn't sure how smart the man was when he had one. Suffice to say, Cruentus walked slowly towards the stairs that led downwards to the dungeon. He didn't think anyone would miss his presence if he disappeared here but that held its own risks.
The Blood Mythic stood at the edge of the stairs, contemplating his options among the dead. Oddly enough if it was the dead themselves that provided the most substance to his decision. Cruentus hadn't had much trouble with these Unum, and it seemed neither had the others. If they represented the average skill of the Unum in the base, then Cruentus could roam with much more certainty. It was a gamble, but he would need to take some risks to get the answers he wanted.
He turned from the stairs and continued past the fallen Unum bodies towards the way they had come. The rest of the Mythics may have been here to save Iri, but he was not. Cruentus made sure to suppress his presence as best he could, it took extra focus but it was better than announcing that he was approaching. He took a turn down another hallway, moving in the general direction towards the center of the base. The Blood Mythic would stop from time to time, he stood in complete silence, listening carefully to his surroundings. It wasn't exactly easy considering the fighting that was going on outside among other things.
"There are Mythics inside the base!" came a loud voice
Cruentus pushed back into the doorway he had been waiting in. The stronghold was dimly lit and it gave him decent cover. He heard the sound of multiple people running, and remained completely still as the ran right past him. If they had been walking slowly they would have no doubt sensed him by being in such close proximity. It was clear that they had a good idea of where Kvothe and the others were headed.
All the better for him.
Once he was sure it was clear to move again, he headed down the hallway the two Unum had come from. Cruentus had been on the move again for a good five minutes. He continued to move cautiously but not necessarily slowly, though he did stop once or twice to make sure he wasn't being followed. For all his caution, he still could not avoid the patrol of four Unum soldiers that were undoubtedly waiting for him. He had been overconfident and let himself be herded like some fool.
As a general rule, Blood Mythics hated being herded.
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Kella
Fire and Blood
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Fire cannot kill a dragon.
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Jul 31, 2011 22:06:15 GMT -5
Post by Kella on Jul 31, 2011 22:06:15 GMT -5
Sveta heard the voices, heard the footsteps coming closer. She waited until the fringes of their lights licked her toes, and then the trap was sprung.
A demonic, gutteral sound ripped from her throat as Sveta lunged forward, teeth bared and claws splayed. Fire and acid burned in her veins as air and stone slipped by her. The moment before contact, Sveta could feel his presence hanging in the Force, soft and ripe and delicious, the forbidden fruit, the ultimate delicacy, making her mouth water, her fangs lust...
Contact.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Aug 5, 2011 22:08:39 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Aug 5, 2011 22:08:39 GMT -5
"Come on, come on, come on..."
LOADING...
LOADING...
Azeed tapped an almost frantic pattern on the side of the old console while he waited for the system to carry out his request. Just one more. One more and the system purge would be complete, or so he hoped. He could have been gone already, if the stupid thing was being cooperative. Perhaps the third time would be the charm.
And I can get away from this guy. He glanced over his shoulder at the Nikto techie. He was hunched over a console of his own, muttering something that Azeed only caught occasional snippets of. It was in some strange language, so it wasn't like it mattered anyway.
What did matter is that it sounded quite angry. Though, Azeed was starting to gather that everything the Nikto said sounded angry.
Maybe he's just always like that, he thought as he looked back to the screen, brushing a blonde lock from his face. Or maybe it's the battle...
LOADING...
ADMINISTRATOR APPROVAL REQUIRED
"Oh for the love of-" Azeed's angry outburst quickly turned into a pained squeal when he punched the side of the console. The metal casing that surrounded the computer terminal was hard--far too hard for Azeed's knuckles. So instead of yelling in anger at the system and its obstinacy, he danced from toe to toe, nursing his throbbing hand for a few moments.
And then the Nikto came over.
"BOY!" he roared, red flush showing beneath even the green of his scaly face. Azeed was grabbed by the shoulder and spun around. Suddenly, his vision was very much filled by angry reptile.
"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousan-"
"It's not my fault!" The boy cut in, his voice somewhere between a frustrated yell and a terrified squeal. "It's this!" He gestured angrily at the console with his good hand. This stupid thing won't let me do the purge! Every time I try to get through it it says it needs administrator approval, but I've already put the Force-blighted password in twice already!"
With an angry huff, he stood up fully and pushed the Nikto back enough to give himself some space. The full realization of what he'd done didn't hit until he'd already done it. The Nikto glared at him dangerously. Azeed wilted like a plant left too long on the Aethon's sands.
"Move, boy."
Azeed did what he was told.
"In fact," the Nikto went on as he stood over the terminal, fingers splayed out over the floating keyboard, "just go. You're more trouble than you're worth."
Azeed stood there, dumbfounded. "That's... it? Are you su-"
"What I meant to say," his cruel overseer cut in as he let his furious presence boil out to the point of being palpable, "is that I'm this close to cracking that soft little neck of yours, boy. Go."
Only a fool would need more after that warning. Azeed didn't often fancy himself a fool. "Yes sir," he said with a hurried nod, and then he rushed out of the room. Something large exploded up on the surface, sending tremors reverberating through the mountain.
Perhaps if he hurried, Sveta wouldn't be too angry with him.
------
Kvothe's breath came quickly, sharply as he hurried down the steps to the dungeon that waited down below. Just a few more steps. Just a few more and I'll have her.
"Kvothe," said a voice behind him, quiet despite its firmness, "calm yourself. There are beings lying in wait below."
Kvothe clenched his teeth and bit back protest. 'You don't understand,' he wanted to say to Sevrae, 'you don't know what it was like to have her taken from under your nose.'
But as much as he wished things could be otherwise, the old Sword was right. Too much was riding on this infiltration, and dying wouldn't do anything but offer proof for all to see that Vorian had been right all along.
"I know," he said softly. "I'm in control."
"As you say," the Farghul said simply. "Be wary."
The stairs wound down and down and around in a loose spiral. As they neared the bottom, Kvothe let himself feel out through the Mythos, lightly touch the presences of the beings that were waiting down below. There were more than one, but only one stood out in his mind.
Iri.
Hold on Iri. I'm almost there..
Another, more immediate presence suddenly caught his attention. Someone was near the bottom of the stairs...
He turned the final corner half a heartbeat later. He heard a gutteral cry, saw a flash of fur.
Everything happened in a blur.
On instinct, he raised his staff, put it between the sudden attacker and himself. The force of impact staggered him, might have pushed him back if Sevrael hadn't been there behind him. Wicked fangs snapped before his face and sharp claws grasped at the edges of his armor.
As his face contorted into a snarl and then he yelled as he pushed back on the staff to get the traitor away from him. One of his palms opened and the Mythos echoed his fury as a wall of concussive force exploded out in front of him.
Sevrael moved out from behind Kvothe, blade drawn and the Mythos flooding through his presence. "Keep your head on, Kvothe," he said softly, voice lilting as always. "This one first. Then the girl."
"I know." Kvothe's voice was tight with fury. His grip shifted and tightened on Pietas' shaft, and he readied himself for combat. "This one dies first."
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Kella
Fire and Blood
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Fire cannot kill a dragon.
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last online Oct 30, 2014 9:41:46 GMT -5
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Aug 10, 2011 21:58:01 GMT -5
Post by Kella on Aug 10, 2011 21:58:01 GMT -5
The concussion struck Sveta square in the chest, knocking her off her feet and through the air, then tumbling across the rough stone. Sveta regained her bearings and stopped on all fours, tail whipping from side-to-side.
"This one dies first."
Sveta's ears twitched, and her muzzle curved back into a grin. "No," she said, thrill in her tone, "Sveta is hungry, which is meanink that you will be dyink."
The Shistavanen surged forward on all fours, swift and low to the ground. Her shoulders hunched as if she was going to go for Kvothe's knees, but at the last moment, her hind legs snapped down and propelled her into the air, pouncing upward towards Kvothe's neck.
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Aug 14, 2011 18:39:09 GMT -5
Post by Jace on Aug 14, 2011 18:39:09 GMT -5
Cruentus' eyes narrow ever so slightly at the four Unum soldiers in front of him. He had yet to move since they spotted him and there was an odd silence between them. He could see them tense up, ready to pounce any moment. The Blood Mythic had hoped to make it deeper into the base without being spotted but clearly that hadn't happened. Just like any experienced combatant, he weighed his options in the short time that was given to him. Unfortunately he wasn't given much as hands went for swords and staffs.
He reached backward and removed Veritas from his back as fast as possible. Cruentus leveled the staff at hip level, drew the Mythos towards him and into the staff, and fired. Lightning burst forth in a deadly torrent catching the first man off guard and frying him to a crisp. He blinked as he realized the other three were unharmed, and noticed the staff in the hands of one Unum. The man clearly had some skill if he had blocked Cruentus' levikinesis. He watched the trio approach cautiously, the two in the front with their swords drawn covering the remaining Unum in the back. Clearly they were not amateurs but Cruentus remained unfazed.
The Mythos gathered about him again and he fired another blast of lightning to little effect. He fired once more and then a third time, but the trio continued to slowly approach. Grins slowly began to grow on their faces as they began to grow confident in their opponents inability to hurt them. Cruentus fired one more blast and as usual the trio were blinded for that second that it struck their invisible shield. In that second he had grabbed Aetas and had it leveled, and depressed the hidden button that triggered the deadly projectile. The projectile slammed into the exact place where he had been firing the lightning and crashed through it. Cruentus watched the Unum mage's eyes widen for that split second before the projectile hit him square in the chest.
Cruentus dashed forward in a blur, taking advantage of his opponents momentary shock. He jabbed forward with Aetas, aiming to impale the other with the deadly blades, but the Unum managed to deflect his strike to the side just in time. Unfortunately, Cruentus still held Veritas and it as it traveled straight toward his opponent's face, he let loose a surge of lightning. He wasted no time in spinning to the left, sending Aetas out in a wide sweeping arc. His opponent dodged and Cruentus attempted to fire off another surge of lightning from Veritas but it was quickly deflected. Sword rang against staff as the two parried and dodged each others strikes. As they deadlocked, Cruentus kicked out knocking the man back slightly but enough for him to send a minor bolt of lightning at his opponent. The momentary pain gave the Blood Mythic the opening he needed and he stabbed Aetas into the man's gut.
He studied the bodies momentarily before heading off in the direction they came. Cruentus had wasted too much time here, and there wasn't much left. It wouldn't be long before Kvothe and the others rescued Iri and even he didn't think he could get out of this base by himself. He needed to find his target, or at least some source of information. If he could've afforded the time, these men at his feet would've died much slower deaths. The Blood Mythic doubted they knew anything, but there was nothing wrong in being thorough.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
6,347 posts
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Friendly neighborhood CEO
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last online Jan 12, 2024 11:24:20 GMT -5
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Aug 15, 2011 15:51:29 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Aug 15, 2011 15:51:29 GMT -5
Fury billowed around Kvothe's presence. It rose and fell wildly, but it was held back as a caged beast that leapt for freedom was held back. Control, he told himself. I have to keep control. He kept it, keeping the physical signs of his hatred for the thing in front of him contained to the blood red in his eyes and the tension that held tight to so many of his muscles. But he wasn't deluding himself. He wanted nothing more than to paint the walls with the filth's blood and he knew it. Iri needs me to keep control. I have to. For her. His hands, gloved and gauntleted, tightened on Pietas' shaft. The Mythos flooded him. The filth lunged at him. "Come on then," he muttered in challenge through clenched teeth. No matter how strong this traitor thought she was, they were two at the least and she was one; anyone would be hard pressed to overcome the skill they had to work in tandem. And Kvothe had a burning, righteous fury on his side. Kvothe didn't need to look at Sevrael to know his companion would handle himself. As the beast lunged at him, he stepped back, drawing Pietas around in preparation. Then the thing abruptly changed course, leaping for his neck with claws outstretched. He quickly jerked himself back, leaning with his body to keep away from the filth's wicked claws. As he dodged, he twisted Pietas around to attack into the lunge, pulling the light end back and down so the heavy, bladed head could strike up at her fur-coated belly. Before anything else could happen, he felt the air change near him. It sighed toward Sevrael's outstretched hand and then burst free like water from a dying dam. It was a wall of pressure, rushing straight for the beast. --------- Blood squelched wetly as Bors drew his blade from the heart of another fallen Unum soldier. To his left, a tall, sturdily-built man rushed with claymore raised, thinking the High Sword distracted. His weapon sliced through the air with a deadly-sounding swish, but it clanked harmlessly against the shield that was suddenly between it and Bors. Bors rose from his crouch with a powerful lunge and pushed the weapon he'd caught on shield high up and away. Then, with shield still raise, he lunged forward and lashed out with his own weapon. The already bloodstained sword bit into his attacker's stomach and cut flesh like paper. A cry came from the Unum man before he crumpled bonelessly into a heap on the ground. After giving a quick stab to ensure the man stayed down, Bors stood up straight and surveyed the battlefield around him. The pristine snow had been turned up and thrown every which way in the chaotic fray, and was in many places a pinkish sort of red. Bodies littered the pat up to the hidden base's main entrance. Most belonged to the Unum, but not all. The battle had been progressing smoothly for the Mythics, but some of them wouldn't be leaving this mountain with the rest. Shame, he thought. But despite the losses, things were going as well as could be hoped. The fighting outside was quieter now. The bombardment had died down, and the Mythos had for a moment grown less frenzied as battles between those who could wield it had come to an end. Some of the injured were moving or being moved away from the front so healers and medics could deal with their wounds. The rest had pressed forward, and now the assault force was nearly knocking on the Unum's door. Most of the rebels knew this and had retreated inside the base to make a stand there. Now the question would be how to deal with them all once they breached the mountain's rocky walls. "Sir! We've cleared the slopes!" Bors glanced over his shoulder at the Battle Mythic running to him. "All the rest of retreated into the base, Sir. The ones that didn't are dead or taken prisoner," said the man, standing straight when he reached Bors. "Good," Bors answered simple. "And our losses?" "Light. We took most of our losses in the initial assault. We still have more than ample force to storm the stronghold." Bors looked thoughtfully up the slope to the mountain. The complexity of the battle would change once they were inside; they wouldn't be fighting in the open field any more. "Very good. Tell everyone to prepare to breach the doors and move in."
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Kella
Fire and Blood
4,089 posts
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Fire cannot kill a dragon.
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last online Oct 30, 2014 9:41:46 GMT -5
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Dec 11, 2011 18:17:12 GMT -5
Post by Kella on Dec 11, 2011 18:17:12 GMT -5
Sveta did not think when the blade swung towards her, she only understood, and acted; she was a creature of instinct. Her paws swept downwards, pushing off again, this time against an invisible plane. A few strands of fur fell as the Shistavanen continued over the Mythic, caught suddenly by the other's attack. It slammed into her side, and at full height her body was thrown into rusted bars of a cell. Her body then fell roughly to the ground. Sveta hissed in pain, shoving herself back to her feet. There was murder in her eyes.
She turned around and locked her claws around one of the bars. The mythos tightened like a garouette below and above her grip, and Sveta wretched a six foot length of pipe from the bars.
It would have been an understatement to say that Sveta was an accomplished Terrikinetic.
Sveta seemed to have finally realized that the fight was two on one. That simply meant there were more people to attack. She charged, putting the whole weight of her body into a swing at Kvothe, then twisted, her torso whipping around and driving a heavy swing at the other mythic. The throbbing pain in her ribs only served to strengthen her blows.
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