Die Swiftly [Regular]

"I know these islands as if they were my own backyard, boy," a voice boomed out across the otherwise quiet lake, "because they are my own backyard!"

It wasn't funny--and was actually kind of dumb given how loud he'd practically shouted it--but Gian laughed along anyway. The owner of the voice was his guide, after all, a stout but retired veteran of the last war. Name was Mosdarl or something of the sort, but it wouldn't matter too much.

"Just up ahead, sir?" he asked a few minutes later, his eyes going straight to the smoke rising above the trees on the island ahead of them.

"Aye!" the veteran stood, paddle digging into the muddy shallows as he pulled them to shore, Gian content to let his paddle rest, considering it a job for one man, "this should be it. Last I seen any of the farkers they were headed this way with their boats and the smoke and all's a dead give-away."

"As you say," Gian said, in truth quite unsure of the old man's words, but unwilling to speak up and kill even an ounce of the excitement in his voice. The fire up ahead seemed as like to belong to marauders as it did anybody else given how long it'd been since anybody'd seen the scum. That and all told the island seemed a bit too close to the shore, but when he'd brought that up earlier the veteran'd just insisted that at the very least they'd have left some men on the island to keep watch.

In any case, he wasn't in much of a rush. From the beginning he'd only signed on for the job because the marauders sounded formidible, so being thorough in his combing of the islands could only ensure he'd have the best chance at finding the best of them, right?

Together, they hopped out onto the shore and began to approach the source of the smoke, all subtlety cast aside the moment his companion began to yell.

OoC (open) OoC (close)

Feel free to fall in as you will. Have the fire as having always belonged to your character(s), the fire as having actualy belonged to marauders before your character(s) killed them, etc. Make up whatever sounds best for your characters/most interesting for you.

Post any questions in the discussion thread.

"I guess it's too much to hope that being back 'in your back yard' would mean you'd stop getting louder."

Despite his irritation at being sober and stuck in a boat with two guys, Sirius made sure to keep his comments under his breath. Sure, there wasn't exactly a great chance of Mosdarl even hearing anything he said, even at normal volume, but risking it while the big man had a paddle in his hands? The only way Sirius would skirt that line would be if Mosdarl had been a Mosalin and the boat had been a room back at the monastery.

"Oh Great Lady," Sirius sighed and stepped off the boat onto the shore. He dug the end of his Heal staff into the sand, leaned on it, and jumped back onto solid land. "Woe that this great adventure starts not in a tavern with busty wenches, but on an island of brutes. May Your great Beauty and Benevolence bless us soon."

"Well," said Qatami, "Damn." That seemed to about sum it up.

Qatami and Lorita had met some time ago, joining forces on the understanding that cooperation meant better protection and better offerings from potential employers. Neither girl had had good experiences with Risen, making that a point of mutual understanding, and now, at a masterstroke from Qatami, they had headed to an island, figuring it was a decent chance to try to escape from the things. The only problem with the theory that Risen probably couldn't cross large bodies of water (at least as far as they knew) turned out to be that Qatami had completely forgotten about more mundane raiders in that calculation.

Now they were here, just outside town, watching to see what was going to happen now. Qatami hadn't needed much, and Lorita only her horse, so they had vacated the premises almost before the raid hit, and in enough time that no locals had gotten brilliant ideas about asking them for help.

What Qatami didn't have, just then, was a plan going forward. Rushing into the middle of a fight where they were outnumbered for little gain didn't seem to be a winning move, and Qatami hated losing moves. So, then. Perhaps the best course of action was just to hold tight and see if the situation improved.

"Son of a-"

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to stay quiet." Lambert hissed as he shoved a wad of cloth into the man's mouth. Did he want them to be discovered? With his patient silenced, Lambert continued with the stitching. He learned some medicine from his mother, which was the only reason this man was going to live. For now, at least.

"Well, it'll probably hang on until you can find a healer." Lambert wiped his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. He sat back on his feet and looked at his work. The man he was treating nearly had his arm torn off by a raider's axe. Lambert doubted the arm could ever be restored to functionality. It was probably wiser just to hack the rest of it off. But, well, he didn't have a handy cleaver on him to get through the rest of the arm meat. "I'd advise making a sling out of your shirt. That will help keep your arm in place. But I need to see the others, so you're on your own for that."

That said, Lambert rose to his feet. With one hand, he picked up his backpack and slung it over one shoulder. Looking upon the others, he could only describe the scene as miserable. Here they were, locked in a basement with raiders prowling the town. It was only a matter of time before someone decided to break into the basement. When that time came, it was every man for himself.

Until then, he'd do his best to help the others free of charge. If everyone did survive the attack, then they might see fit to reward him... if there was anything left. All the wares Lambert had recovered from customs had, all the likely, been taken or destroyed. Again.

Lambert shook his head. He hoped that his stuff being stolen was not going to be a recurring theme of his journey.

Far as Lorita was concerned, threats such as the Risen would be enough to keep people busy, but there was more than enough proof that some simply had violence in their spirit and were no better. So the billowing smoke from the town would suggest.

"I think I heard something," she said to Qatami, "away from town and toward the water, I'll have a look. Stay put if you can."

Lorita picked up her bow, called over her horse, and rode towards the sound. The trip was brief, the island not very large beyond the limits of the village, and soon came across a handful of men who had just landed. Wary of whether they were raider or not, she made sure her bow out and arrows visible to them as a sign of caution. She did not halt her horse, but rather had it slowly trot in a circle around them, always ready to ride should they prove hostile.

"What purpose have you here?"

"Oh blessed Naga, you sweet, fine drag-woman; yours are blessings fully appreciated."

Honestly, Sirius had never put all that much stock into the whole "Pray to Lady Naga for good things to happen to you" deal. Most of the time—and he'd pointed this out to the other members of the church plenty of times, much to the chagrin of the fathers—those prayers came from people who were hungry, and Sirius really didn't get why they didn't just serve food in the church, or from people he or someone else had already healed. It'd been a few years of prayer coming after the fact or just not working, flat out.

Now, though, on horrible bandit-men island? Prayer actually got a cute Feroxian—if those eyes of her said anything, it was Ferox or from across the sea, and his prayers were on Ferox—to appear out of nowhere. That was a point for prayer! Go, Lady Naga!

"I can't speak for my fellows," Sirius grinned and eyed the woman's bow. The arms were a much better sight, of course. "...but I can say I've no interest in getting pierced by your arrow, fair lady. I don't suppose you'd care for the reversal?"

"Hey, she one of the marauders?" Gian ignored the woman and Sirius' nonsense for the moment to address their guide.

A terse shake of the head was the only response he got and really the only he needed, "Good," he turned his attention toward her, "the priest has the right of it. We're here on a hunt of sorts, our prey likely on this island according to--"

"Name's Mosdorl," the veteran spoke up, "You seen any of them marauder farkers?! Damned bastards stole away my niece and I swear by these arms that they'll answer in blood!"

Right. There was that. And it was Mosdorl. Man, he really should've paid better attention last night, beyond "strong marauders to kill" and "I'll help guide you to them", but if anybody was to blame it was likely that priest! Priests should not be able to hold that much liquor.

He couldn't help but sigh, "So, what brings you here?"

OoC (open) OoC (close)

Vel, going with 'Modsorl never explained there was an entire town on this island' either because: A) He didn't care enough B) He kind of forgot to explain it in his bloodraeg C) hate for the people of this island due to some spat from his younger years

Lorita visibly relaxed when they made it clear they were no enemy. "Tried to avoid trouble, picked the wrong place. Heard Mosdorl's yelling and came to see who, glad its not marauders. We have a common enemy, come. I have a friend waiting further in, we too want them gone. If you would follow." She turned her horse around and began head back to where Qatami had been, making intentions clear.

"About damn time! Lead the way!"

Sirius sighed and tried to lose Mosdorl's loud voice by focusing on the bow-woman's departing form. It certainly wasn't the sort of body that belonged to a pampered daughter of some nobility, or that of a village girl's. She rode like a soldier, or at least one of the serious ones, and the way her legs held onto the horse wasn't bad at all.

"Hm." Sirius turned to grin at Gian when Mosdorl's brutish body got in the way of his taking in the scenery. "Trusting, isn't he? Like a big, blood-thirsty puppy."

"Hurry up, you two, or I'll kill 'em all before you!"

Another sigh and long-suffering smirk, and Sirius had started leisurely making his way to join Mosdorl and the mysterious bow-woman. Really, though, couldn't the Naga-spat man have at least asked a few more things from their lovely mystery-guide? Gian, unfortunate lightweight in the bar-room that he was, at least bothered to get something out. Still, it wasn't as though they couldn't handle themselves in case it was some sort of ambush. A little shielding for Gian and the big lug, a little assisted inebriation for the marauders, and maybe when it was all done, the might-be-a-trickster bow-woman would seek a confessional to-

"Oho." Sirius' thoughts of double-crossing died and quickly replaced with an entirely different sort of crossing. He grinned and offered a brief, additional thank you to Naga, wherever the blessed goddess was. Instead of just bow-woman and Mosdorl, they had yet another fetching woman standing just outside what appeared to be a town. Some sort of din sounded from further in, but Sirius' attention was much more focused. "Didn't expect your 'friend' to be another lovely blessing."

"Oi." Qatami looked at the dregs Lorita dragged back. She didn't react at all to the indirect compliment. "What's this? Lorita, you should know better than to pick up strays." She sighed, running a finger through her hair briefly as she thought. Incorporating a few more people changed the combat math a bit. "Well, fine. I trust you all can fight? Here's the plan: there's only one obvious approach up to us from the town, and not all that many attackers. We'll have at least one moment of surprise.

"So, Lorita, start picking at them with your bow, especially anyone else with a bow or who looks like they might use magic. I cleared out before I got to see what they're equipped with. I'll seed the sides of the path with traps, so stick to the middle of it. Lunk, Compensator," this addressed to Mosdorl and Gian, "You hold off anyone who comes at us, since you don't have to worry much about getting flanked while you do. Pantywaist... try not to get hurt." Sirius seemed to be pantywaist.

"If we push them back to their boats or force them to surrender, we win. Killing them all would be fine, too, but that might take longer and is certainly more dangerous. Oh, and try not to shoot the locals. Hard to explain." It didn't seem to occur to her that people might not fall in line for either her plan or rules of engagement.

One moment Gian was laughing at Mosdorl along with the priest, punching the veteran when it became clear he'd neglected to explain there was an entire town on the island, and then the next some blackhair mage was both insulting and ordering them around.

"Uh...what?" Gian couldn't quite find the words, so instead he just turned to the priest and laughed, "You hear all that, 'Pantywaist'? Well," he considered it all again, "whatever. Though I doubt 'Lunk' here will agree t--"

"You're damn right I won't agree!" again with the overly loud voice, "If they're down there right now I'll kill every last one of them!"

Just like that he was off, running down the path and toward the town. Gian sent one pointed look at the priest, about to ask if he could do anything to stop him, before realizing it wouldn't matter anyway. Plus, going with the flow was more his style.

"New plan?" he addressed the blackhair, " 'Lunk' and I will go down and make some noise...err, more noise before they even know the rest of you are up here. 'Paintywaist'...try not to get hurt."

He was laughing as he left, trying to catch up to Mosdorl. That last quip was just too good not to borrow--hopefully the priest wouldn't hold it against him.

OoC (open) OoC (close)

Going to leave the situation down below to static or somebody on higher ground to describe as Mosdorl, Gian and whoever else run into it.

"Yes, yes, laugh it up." Sirius chuckled and reached out with one of the staves hanging from his waist. It was one thing for a beautiful woman to mock him, as there was a certain allure to such cold haughtiness, but a vagabond such as Gian had no such attractiveness. He tapped the beige gem against the end of Gian's sheath. "Stay safe, Gian."

Satisfied with his petty revenge, for the moment anyway, Sirius turned to face the two women that his over-eager companions had left him with. It was truly a familiar circumstance, for his fellows to get overly excited and disappoint the very women they sought, only to leave Sirius behind to pick up the remains of what they'd wasted, but it wasn't as though he disliked such things. If anything, Mosdorl and Gian could get into the habit of leaving him behind with female company while they charged ahead.

"Well, now that your one moment of surprise is about to be lost, Lady Nickname, I don't suppose you have a back-up plan?" Sirius smiled at the black-haired tactician, the nodded at the newly-named Lorita. "Mosdorl will ruin it without a doubt, even if you retrieved him, but maybe it'd restore the wind he stole from your sails."

"Well, the back-up plan is that some of us try not to trip over the corpses of those with no sense." Qatami sneered at the idiots who'd run off without them. "Come along. Lorita, we'll cover them. Maybe we'll save them from themselves." She pulled out a tome to match her statement. Nothing she had was really ideal for ranged engagements, but Thunder Mine wasn't too poor a replacement.

Lambert did his best to tend to the wounded with his minimal knowledge and supplies. Some people would just have to tough it out. All-in-all, there were six people not including Lambert himself. There was only one person in shape enough to give a fight, including Lambert himself.

THUMP

The basement went dead silent. Someone was up above. "Are the traps in place?" Lambert looked to one of the female villagers. She looked to be in her mid-forties and made the barest of nods with her head. "Good. Now, grab what you can and defend yourself if necessary." For his part, Lambert grabbed his knife and waited beside the staircase.

The staircase itself was trapped to the best of their ability. One of the steps was purposely weakened, likely to break if any weight was set on it. A dark-colored sheet was draped over several bottles, no doubt a surprise for anyone who stepped on them unawares. Not very good traps in all, but an injured man could easily kill one who was prone.

Now, it was time to lie in wait.

By the time Qatami addressed her, Lorita was already rearing to go, admittedly eager to put down the raiders. "Sorry Qatami, the hunt doesn't wait," she said before taking off on her horse after Mosdorl.

The old man was plodding along swiftly, and both he and Compensator had already entered down through the main street before she'd caught up. Now it was time for the fun. Her eyes scanned the area as she rode, keeping some distance behind the two, intent on covering them much like Qatami had suggested, if in her own way. Sure enough, these raiders had some competence to them, as she spotted one looking down on the street from the second floor a house he'd most certainly been rummaging through.

What caught her by surprise was the mask he had on, for a moment she'd tensed up and thought him to be a risen, but knew none would be here, what did they hope to gain in adopting their likeness? Made it a lot easier to willfully shoot them, if anything.

There was no more time for pondering, as that same masked raider exerted an aura of flame. Lorita reached behind her and pulled out four arrows, one twixt each of her fingers and thumb. Her bow was readied and facing the caster in her sights, and setting the arrow gripped by her thumb, she aimed and let loose a swift shot. It proved a poor one as the arrow hit and broken against the outer wall of the building just next to him. It served only to get his attention.

With a small feat of digital dexterity, she readied the next arrow from her hand a moment after the last shot failed, and fired again, this time it was a true shot, and the mage took the arrow into his torso just as a ball of fire streaked from his hands and towards her.

The mage fell onto the street below, just behind where Gian was, while the ball of fire burst on the street just to the left of Lorita's horse. It panicked and reared, "Easy, Cavalli!" Lorita said as she steered the horse away from the fiery explosion down an alleyway.

"Hey, old man, over here!" Gian shouted to direct the veteran toward where he thought he heard some bashing going on inside a house. Otherwise he was running toward Naga knew where, likely his own death.

"Old man?! What's with the old man all of su--"

A mage falling down out of a second story window, just behind Gian, silenced his complaints.

"Yeah, see, over here," Gian said as he ignored the corpse to find the door, the 'old man' right behind him and ready for action. Given the way things were it'd be better to travel through houses as much as possible, rather than remain out in the open, easy targets for any mages or archers about. Well, if the marauders already finished looting a house or didn't particularly care they could probably just roast one with them still in it, but hey, life's a gamble.

Inside there appeared to be at least two marauders who'd just finished bashing open some door, leading down and to some holed up townspeople if his ears were right. Some people were just horrible at keeping quiet. Well, best to make sure anyway.

Holding a hand out to stop Mosdorl from advancing recklessly into them, he addressed them, "Just the two of you? Or you got some friends down below already?"

OoC (open) OoC (close)

Going to let you fill this out, static. Decide if they had others who already entered the basement and got caught in the traps you had and such. It's the same house.

The breaking of wood resounded throughout the basement. A woman screamed and huddled herself further into whatever corner she was cowering in. Lambert stayed silent and remained as close as he could to the wall. He could hear the men upstairs, talking about something or another. Lambert couldn't tell. He was too nervous to concentrate on anything.

Step

He gripped his knife.

Step

He breathed in deep.

Crunch!

The trap worked as planned. The bandit fell through the loose step onto the ground. The confused bandit landed flat on his side, his weapon clattering away from him. The shrieks of women filled the air as Lambert turned and stabbed the man. And stabbed again.

And again.

"What happened down there?" Someone up above yelled. But Lambert couldn't hear him. All he could hear was the sound of his blade cutting off the man's yells. Five... ten... maybe more stabs later, the man stopped moving. His neck was a bloody mess, ripped to shreds. Lambert was covered in blood. He waited for his next target.

"Just the two of you? Or you got some friends down below already?"

Who was that? More bandits? For the time being it seemed the other two at the top of the stairs were not coming down. He would wait and see before he moved.

"Wow, I'm just...so glad that we're all getting into the red spirit." Sirius hesitantly stepped over the corpse of some ugly man-bandit. He took special care not to get pricked by any of the arrows sticking out of the corpse. He raised his nose at the smell of unclean men and what had to be far off burning flesh before he lifted his staff and applied a defensive shield around himself. It didn't completely block off the stench, but at least it did enough that he could focus on what was going on.

Sirius toed over to stand next to the abrasive woman and peered over her shoulder. Of course Gian was dealing with Mosdorl's mess. How truly unexpected.

"Lovely, hm?"