Post by Joliette Thorne on Oct 12, 2008 5:01:06 GMT -5
--Hanging Corpse--
Cuki leans back against the frame. One of the swing doors leading to his kitchen sits angled allowing more of the drumming noise to filter into the common room. From there he watches Tene with curiosity. The dumping of weapons causes one eye-brow to lift up.
Mahri didn't follow very closely behind Tenebrae. That would seem to be rather subordinate in her own mind and so, she trailed just far enough behind as to seem to ~not~ be following. Oh, she knew where they were going. The lycan had been there before, several times and the last time with painful results. She wondered briefly if things were still the same in the cellar before pushing that tough from her head. Business was at hand, and Mahri was a bit curious. So, she pushed the door open as it was almost closed and watched with lofted brows as Tenebrae removed supplies from her closet. Weapons, of course, were supplies if you planned on killing something.
Wren waltzed in the tavern, his usual self-- a fabrication. There was a mission to be done, and he felt like a secret agent! With this, there was need for stealth, bravery, stoicism, etcetera! And such, Wrenobi rather -snuck- into the establishment. False was black attire that masked his visage but left those expressionless crap-brown eyes to peer out. Of course, his silent patterns of footprints across the floorboards lent no suspicion to the multitude of weapons hidden among his form (all of which never did exist anyways).
Cuki calls out to Tene in a somewhat raised voice, "You do know we do have a small armory back here?" Here is of course indicated by his motioning to the chaotic room behind him.
Peregrine followed the crowd to the tavern, then went to his broom closet, masquerading as a bedroom, then dressed in full battle armour. He emerged with his brother warrior, LouGarou, an onyx wolf buffed with tar resin, which slunk beside him as if threading a needle through a sanguinary god’s nightmare with every step. His left wrist rested almost casually on the hilt of his warrior’s long-sword. It swayed in its scabbard with his gate. His face, fecund scar throbbing, was cold and blank. Every movement was precise, controlled, utterly relaxed, the wrapped-iron muscles on his arms flexing his fingers like eagle talons. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, I think.”
Sophie is a little protective of that stone floor, she had worked hard laying the slabs and polishing them after all, and is a bit annoyed to see how Tenebrae unceremoniously dumped several sharp objects onto it.
Tenebrae huffed a breath over lips set to thin line, and raised her eyes to those gathered. "Got a little job for any who are up for it." Silent greeting was given sundry clansmates and friends, each nod and gesture perfunctory. "I need sharp eyes and sharper weapons. You'll need to don flame-resistant armours..." Her next words were spoken in a low tone. "I hear Hell is warm this time of year." The necromancer's peridot gaze swept the small crowd. "Who's in, for a spot of hunting?"
A slow grin, a real grin. Not a twisted one, or a wry one, curves Mahri's lips upwards. Yes, a hunt was just what this lycan needed. "Hunting is what I do best." Fire resistant armor? The lycan was only a tad worried about that as she looked over the weapons and such scattered upon the floor.
Cuki grins a little. He simply can't help it. He will bring it. Hard. A silly little bandage on his cheek wobbles threatening to fall off. His booming voice to cut over the din of curses and clatters surely does not help. A moment's pause before the affects are seen. Stepping aside several of the heavier cooks file suit. On their backs and in their hands are some of the contents of the aforementioned armory. They crudely and promptly dump their contents before rushing back.
Portea meanders into the Corpse, feeling good enough to go try and talk to Tenebrae, but as he walks in, he hears mention of a hunt, which catches his interest. ~Count me in, Tenebrae.~ The psion projects to the vampiress as it is too painful for him to speak at the moment, considering the recent neck wound and all. He walks the rest of the way into the tavern and leans against one of the walls.
Tenebrae mentalist a wry grin, when his words echoed in her mind, and turned back to watch her chef add to the arsenal. "Gear up. Cuki, do you know the way to that ruined castle, in the south of Cenril?"
Wren lofted a brow behind what he thought was a balaclava covering his visage smooth as a bairn's bottom; a hunt? Surely such was what ninja's were called to arms for. Or something. At any rate, the man would subtly-- he's in hiding, and all-- lower his chin, an indication that such would be a most agreeable venture. To Hell. "Huh..." he murmured. A part of the real Wren inside squirmed for a moment. His own illusion nearly crumbled and courage nearly ran out the door-- but such was saved. In the aftermath however, the ninja's gloved hand reached for his sword over his shoulder-- to find it missing. Seems Wren forgot to project the image of such. He began inching forward, eyes on that long sword, sitting by itself in the midst of all the metal.
Mahri found a nice lonely wall to lounge against, one foot crossing the other as she watched the goings on. Pushing a rather badly tangled lock of what could have been hair out of her eyes, she eyes the staff with a flicker of interest.
Cuki coughs a little bit. He actually had not intended to use any of them. Not a bad idea though. "But of course." Said castle was not a fun place. Surprisingly Cuki has been to Hell before--as well as Heaven--so the inference between the vague memory of heat from both didn't seem too far off. An extra spear, some chainmail, and a shield wouldn't hurt even if he never used them. His attention is quickly turn to his secretary. The drunkard of a woman was downing another glass of Dwarven Spirits. Best catch her before she got completely plastered. "If you want to continue on my tab you better come along." A mild growl is followed by burst of extensive arguing between the two in lower, private tones.
Tenebrae studied the pile of weapons and armours, her eyes picking out this and that thing she found adequate to the task. Moment later, she'd be buckling and strapping, stowing weapons in the straps that crossed her back. "Whoever’s coming, gear up quickly. We have a window of time that won't wait. The stars are right, soon, and I have a small task to see to before we really get into it."
Mahri waited her change, a clear space before wandering over to pick up the staff. Her hands ran over the smooth surface in a gentle caress before she stepped back and let the others who had elected to jump aboard this adventure take the things they desired.
Portea reaches into his pocket and silently activates his psychoactive skin, allowing it to freely envelope his body before it shimmers, becoming completely transparent. ~Was there a reason you'd wanted to see me after I was well enough?~ He once more projects to Tenebrae as he reaches around to make sure his own sword is securely in place. Might as well bring along a couple of daggers, too, just in case.
The call of the elements though, is too hard to resist, and the lycan darts forward on nimble feet to pluck it from among the pile.
Tenebrae said to Portea, "Aye, but it might have to wait, til after this." She gave him a soft smile, to hide the sorrow she felt at the news which would no doubt take the psion's mind from the task at hand."
Portea merely nods, sensing the hidden sorrow, but knowing well enough to not press her for more.
Jasper looks around room. "You guys going on a hunt?
Tenebrae would then wait for the others to be done arming themselves, the vampiress clearly on edge. "Cuki, would you lead the others to the castle, while I fetch the... uh. The last item we need?"
Sophie said to Jasper, "I'm not sure, my friend, seems to me we are just making a mess of the floor so far.” She grins.
Jasper eyes lands on pile of armoury and weaponry.
Tenebrae eyed the draconian stranger, and nodded. "That we are. The more the merrier. You in?"
Jasper eyes fixated on metal. “Well if you are, I'm in.”
Sophie takes a crossbow, loads a bolt and winds it up, careful to keep it pointed away from the others present.
Tene grinned back at Sophie. "Sorry pet." She turned to Jasper. "You seem well-armed already, and your heritage will help with the flames. But if you see something you need..."
Mahri looks with distaste, and not too little disdain at the armor. She'd always hated the feel of such against her body, and was rather reluctant to use it now. "Is it very necessary, vampire?" With no names being exchanged, the lycan would simply call Tenebrae that, but not meaning it as derogatory. Not in the least, since it seemed all their lives would be connected for the next while.
Jasper takes a suit of armour.
Wren made a victorious nab for that katana. With both hands on the hilt of the sword, he felt truly whole. And next was the fire-proof armour. A few pieces were donned, enough so that his skin wouldn't be burned the moment they entered that ... Hell. With all that in place, he looked toward the fellow human that would lead them. "Ready," his small voice squeaked out in a facade of manly determination.
Peregrine said to Tenebrae, "Do we strike from the left hand of Justice herself, in which case I must watch my manners, or must we pray to lesser gods from warmer climes? I’d like to keep my cigar lit while I eviscerate.”
Tenebrae snapped a metal hook to her belt, and tested the edge of her spear by nicking the wood on a table (out of the sight of Steadman's singular eye, though).
Jasper eyes her. “I’m sure it will and I'll just take one more thing"
Jasper runs finger along edge of the blade” I’m ready when you guys are."
Mahri straps sword and sheath across her back and palms the staff. She'll use it as a walking stick for a while, until it's use becomes apparent. It didn't speak to her overly much, but Mahri was sure given time, it's secrets would be revealed to her.
Jasper sits down keeping an eye on possessions.
Cuki glances back at Tenebrae. His hand has been somewhat forced. Rather than carrying on with Najide he just gives in. A rather large pouch exchanges hands. Brighter than ever she jumps up and grabs her mace. Najide's dark red tail wags back and forth, petting the purse. Cuki can only roll his eyes and give answer, "Yes. Let us take our leave." As he starts to walk to the door he makes sure to clear his throat loudly, "Come on EVERYONE." The emphasis is clearly aimed and noticed with a grudging hiss. And as such they all file suit out of the tavern to Cenril.
Tenebrae cleared her throat, and looked around at the little company. "I will speak plainly. This day, we go to the outer reaches of Hell, in search of lesser demons. I need them cut into parts, and those parts brought back here. There is a bounty of two thousand gold pieces for each sackful you bring back." She paused. "You should manage at least one each, probably no much more-- these things are big. About ten feet, winged, clawed and fire-spitting, and very hard to kill. Be careful. And make sure to gather wings, it is essential to my needs." Then she slipped out the door after Cuki, though headed in quite the opposite direction from the crowd who followed him.
Portea smirks at the mention of their prey, thinking that this ought to be an interesting hunt. Finding everything secure and sound, the psion follows after the antimage.
Mahri grimaces, a twisting of facial features that indicate, not that she is reluctant, but the fact that there will be so much blood to be cleaned off of herself. Her free hand raises to scratch absently at her scalp. That dwarf hadn't been too far from the truth in saying Mahri might be infested with fleas. She hadn't bathed in...she couldn't remember how long, but it mattered little to the lycan. Heaving a sigh, she starts for the door, and almost certain carnage.
The rest of the arsenal was left for Steadman to pick up. The barkeep grumbled, stacking the items back into the store-room.
Mahri looked at the draconian, so eager to fight, she was almost afraid he'd end up dead rather than killing anything. With a shrug, Mahri keeps to the edge of the gathered hunters. How much this reminded her of a pack, and the vampire was the alpha.
-- The Ruined Castle, Cenril--
Tenebrae was late to the gathering, as she said she'd be. Possibly the terrified and blindfolded creature she was dragging along behind her wasn't helping her speed her progress to the castle's ruin. The half-elf was obviously of slave-stock, and male, bound and gagged, though muffles pleas for mercy would sound through a thick kerchief. Tenebrae did not look at all haughty or malicious as she pulled the unfortunate along. Just calm, and businesslike. The hunting party were greeted with a single nod. "Nobody gets a free ride into Hell." That was her explanation for what was about to occur.
Jasper looks at the group he is gathered with and thinks to himself, "When will I stop teaming with full humans? I guess it’s cause of my human traits."
Mahri leans upon the staff, fingers curled lightly around it's smooth length as she listens intently. There is always a price for risky business practices, and most of the time she was willing to pay them, the slave though, was a nice change to having the price taken out of her own hide. She felt nothing for the plight of the bound and gagged half-elf. Well, nothing more than indifference anyway.
Jasper leans back against a tree, half feeling sorry for the elf, and half wants to end his life right now
Peregrine took a fat cigar from beneath his cloak, flourished a match from seemingly nowhere, and lit it with relish. No light, however, betrayed the wings of the peregrine lammergeyer that hovered in grace and glory, like a predator’s heaven, above their heads in this castle ruin. He was ready to slice the night to pieces. He blew a sinuous ouroboros of smoke to the sky’s expanse, then cast his gaze on the half-elf slave without pity.
Tenebrae took in the various responses to the slave's presence, while she forced the half-bred to his knees. The male was struggling, but no match for a well-fed vampiress, and for the sake of the tender-hearted Sophie and any other who'd shown regret for his Fate, offered something of relief for the conscience, perhaps. "This creature is a traitor to his kind, a killer of his own. I am assured, there is a place waiting in Hell for him." A slender blade was snicked from its sheath at her waist, jewelled and darkly-bladed. "I recommend that you all block your ears, about now." She'd wait for the group to comply, before she began incanting the horrendous and near-unintelligible words that soon had the ground trembling lightly, and the sheer rock wall before them shedding flakes of stone. The sound built to an unbearable shriek, beyond even the measure of Tene's own whiplash cries, and it was at this peak that the knife was drawn with a single, vicious swipe across the throat of the sacrifice. The body fell, while gouts of arterial blood washed the stone before them. The barrier, with a mighty 'crack', spilt asunder, leaving a narrow gap through which the party could travel. Tene gestured to them wildly. "Hurry!" She eyed the ale. "No time for that. We can come back for it. IF we survive." She was pointing to a downward-leading path, from which a warm and foetid breeze blew.
Cuki stayed back. Cuki knew well to keep his distance from these rites. The sight of the Elf was disconcerting enough in itself make him keep his distance, even though he was a half-breed and slave. Cuki was so inclined to believe Tenebrae's words about him. He trusted her, but you never really know. Much to his surprise the screams is heard by his ears and entrance seems rather normal to his eyes. Surprise locks the Monk. Broken only by a swift yank from Najide and her berating tone, "You ain't chickening out now boss." As suggested they quickly move to the crack and move downwards. Cuki shortly overcoming is overpaid secretary, becoming the vanguard of the group.
Mahri covered her ears, letting the staff lean against her own body now. As the chant reached it's peak, it was nearly impossible to drown out the shriek from Tenebrae's words. Narrowing her eyes to mere slits, the lycan watched and waited, something she was good at. As soon as the vampiress pointed to the break in space and time, she was off, running for Hell and wondering, for the first time, if she had made the right choice in accepting this offer. Gold or no, the lycan was not very keen on being singed, scarred or even killed. For an instant, she longed for the cool shadows of the forest, the thrill of the chase, the rush of the hunt, and then..her world was gone and in it's place was, to put it mildly, Hell. Dragging in deep breaths of tainted air, laced as it was with the sulphuric stink of rotten eggs, Mahri glanced around, all at once concerned that the others, whom she would have to get their names later, had made it through the gap.
Peregrine covered his ears as advised. He watched the vampiress’ facial contortions and the dark blade slice open the slave’s throat. As the ground shook, he grabbed the hilt of his sword and nodded to LouGarou, whose flamious eyes took in the bloodletting without a trace of need or concern. “Got a date with the devil, Brother Lou,” he said to the wolf with a baritone rumble. “Let’s make party of it, you and I.” He followed the human Cuki and the female lycan down, smoke from his cigar trailing like wings from his forehead.
Portea shows only indifference towards the slave, willing the ectoplasmic skin to grow more dense near his ears so as to block out the sound. As soon as he sees the others darting towards the newly formed rift, the psion dashes after them. ~I'll be back.~ He projects to his bronze companion high up in the skies, who gives a mighty roar in protest, but is otherwise unable to stop the psion.
Tenebrae was the rear guard to Cuki and Najide's lead, stepping over the corpse of the sacrifice toward the gap after the others had gone through. All but Sophie, that is, who hung back, staring at the dead man sadly, and the draconian, who had obviously elected to stay with the beer. Tene's voice was gentle, addressing Sophie. "Do me a favour?" The woman nodded assent. "Please cover him up, even he deserves dignity for such service in death. And stay here, if you will. We will need somebody whole in case we ..." She swallowed. "Need a healer." Sophie nodded again, clearly not at ease with the situation, though she offered Tene a kindly smile. The necromancer patted the lycaness' shoulder, and moved off in to the heated scar that led into Hell, drawing her spear from its strapping on her pack. It was then she noticed Wren, still to take the plunge -- or so to speak. "You coming?"
Ninja's don't cry. Nor are afraid of anything. The man brought to his death, a sacrificial opening to Hell, was given barely a second's thought; a brief hello, goodbye, then the little bugger was dead. Wren had spent his time with each index finger in his ear holes, eyes squinted against the utter onslaught of the show. And now it was time to act. The others passed through the slip in the wall, and then there was the vampiress, asking him a question. Though he'd neglected to remove those fingers from his ears, the jist was simple: get your butt in there. A moment later his legs began to work once more. Hands removed, they were free to grab the katana he had put blade-down into the earth. Blood forced through his body and heart's pumping berating his ears in one last inner protest, the insane human ran toward his fellow comrades-- highly unnamed-- in Hell. How quaint.
Cuki is quick to lean backwards against the steepening slope. Not an easy task when your elbows brush against the juddering and inconsistent walls. Very hot walls at that. Those behind him should be glad he is taking the brunt of the heat. Half stumbling and being pushed by his party members Cuki simply could not take much notice of the surroundings. A grave mistake. As they come to a small plateau that opens up a little a ugly, fat quasi-demon greets Cuki with the sharp end of a sword. From behind him is the short squeal of the person thought of by him as a madman who follows up the rear. The other Hobgoblin must have been hiding in the shadows. Not a good beginning. All Cuki can do is parry the blade away with the side of his spear. Luckily the tunnel is actually somewhat tall. Little more than a feral beast of a Feline behind him jumps at the chance to bloody her spiky friend at the exposed Hob. A sicking crunch sounds as Najide strikes true on the exposed hand. Her mace large enough to splinter the bones and have one of the points exposed on the inside of the Hobgoblin's paw.
As the sickening crunch of a broken Hobgoblin hand echoed within the chasm, several others of its kin were making their way up the steep slope towards the band of travelers, eyes filled with rage and mouths foaming with the tantalizing taste of flesh on the horizon.
Mahri 's thickly calloused feet grab firmly at the hot floor of the downward path. Instead of leaning backwards though, she edges down sideways, finding it easier to balance if she has her left foot planted firmly ahead of the right. Her staff is used as a walking stick, poking out obstacles and moving them as needed. Perspiration beaded the lycan's forehead, cheeks..even her mess of hair began to drip wetly. Ahead of her, the human dodges a blow from a sword. Her hands tighten on the staff and already words are passing swiftly from her lips. Vines of every imaginable variety spring from the stone walls, the veins in the leaves thrumming with the heat as they absorbed it, making it into the sap that would have normally flowed in them. Behind the group, the shriek is heard and Mahri quickly, though not with a little effort, evidenced by the tightening lines around her eyes, weaves as sturdy a barricade as she can. Simply put..most ghoulies will find it hard to break through the entangled vines, while the hunting party would find it difficult to go back if not impossible. Unless of course, Mahri allowed the shield to fall. Now, rivulets of sweat seemed to bathe the lycan. Yes, a bath was in order when she got out.
A deep rumbling can be heard from deeper within the chasm, and the already nearly unbearable heat seems to rise.
Peregrine works his way with the others down the twisting tunnel. As they jostle and bump, he shouts loud enough for the cadre of fellow warriors to hear, “My name is Peregrine, by the by. This is my leashed conscience, Lou Garou. If you whistle twice in quick succession, and need help, Lou will come to you and try to kill anything with a grip on your flesh. He has your scent and will treat you like pack. I wouldn’t recommend trying it while in the arms of a lover, though. You’d both have a bad day. Nice to meet you all.” At last, they careen to the plateau opening before them. He sees Cuki already engaged with an ugly Hobgoblin and others of their nasty ilk moving toward them. LouGarou dashes forward after some prey that Peregrine cannot see. In a flash, he unsheathes his sword, his powerful arms extending the tip toward the dark and the menace. His tat of a Xalious tiger wrapped about his left arm leaks his blood from the exposed fang of the snarling beast. For 20 years its leaked, unstoppable, and profusely so during combat. He sees Lou round a corner with a loping gate in the distance. Moving quickly, he runs toward the disappearing canine, who’s headed with dead reckoning into a rumbling heat, while slashing at the fat, gobbling hobs with his sword. Then man and animal wink out like the moon behind a gibbering swarm of clouds, into the weaving tunnels ahead, perhaps never to be seen again.
Portea attempts to keep his mind on the task at hand, but with Peregrine's joke, he finds that to be increasingly difficult to do. Jolted back to reality by the sounds of fighting, he pulls free his psionic blade, a distinct ringing created from this simple action. Blocking out the thoughts of any mortals, he focuses upon all of the others, pin-pointing their location before they can find him. Fluid strikes lop off a hand here, a leg there, hell, maybe even a head. Lucky for him, he has his psychoactive skin to shield him from any blows that do happen to find their mark upon him, though that doesn't stop him from being knocked around by the force, if that should occur.
Tenebrae had paused to allow Wren to scamper ahead of her into the Chasm's narrow mouth. From her position in the line, she could not see all that far ahead into the red-lit murk of the caverns below, even with her night-sharp vampire's eyes, but as the place widened slightly she could make out the shapes of several small figures. What breed they were, she had no clue, but rightly guessed that anything originating down here was not a welcoming committee. Her lips parted to shout a warning, but clamped shut as the ring of steel and goblinish voices sounded, and she elected to simply loft her spear and tread forward quickly to what was obviously the fray. A wandering tendril slithered over her stout boot, and the rustle of vegetation was heard behind. A hasty glance back showed her the growing barrier, though the necromancer had not time to ponder its origin. She was hasty in turning back to the fight, where Cuki and Najide were making short work of the sentries. The near-unbearable heat was already taking its toll on flesh that was best kept chilled, and the rumbling and subsequent rise in temperature bode not well for her little group. "What in..." The last word was drowned by Peregrine's speech, which was hardly heard over the clatter of rocks that fell as the cave shook. Tene spied the janitor's form dashing closer to the source of the heat in pursuit of his wolven companion. "Pere!" This cry did escape her, "Come back! You'll be..." But Peregrine was gone, and a vicious nick was felt upon her ribs, even through the dragon-scaled armours that she wore. Wheeling, backing up as far as space permitted, hopefully not into any other sharp weapons, she hucked her spear forward sharply. The blade greeted a hobgoblin's hide-covered chest with a sickly 'thunk', and Tene would have to put her foot on the corpse to tug it out again, eyes that stung with sulphurous fumes already seeking her next target. The body-parts Portea was providing would likely be gratefully gathered later, should any be left to do so. Abruptly, a thickly-built greenhide was clung to her pack, having leapt on the vampiress from some rocky perch above. She had no recourse but to back up violently into the cavern wall, satisfied at the shortened shriek as small bones crushed against the force of it. And more came, and more.. Tene kept the spear in one hand, thinking it was time her midnight blade came into play, as well. It was soon employed in a veritable frenzy of hacking and slashing, her own wounds ignored for the moment. She glanced back to Mahri, allowing a fallen-but-not-dead Hobgoblin the chance to stab his sword into her left shin. "Wolfess! What about some of that chill...?"
Nemisis passes by quickly, his shadow only being noticed
The rumbling from below rocks the chasm this time, dislodging any loose rocks or boulders, several of which rain down upon the wayward band. Quick feet would be a handy tool. As the loosed earth falls, a boulder crushes and carries several of the advancing Hobgoblins down, down, down into the dark abyss. Stillness ensues, then a sound of wings is heard. Suddenly there is a bloody explosion of one of the few remaining Hobgoblins, blood and gore being sprayed every which way. Where once stood the beast, is now a rancorous, hideous winged creature, twice the height of a common man and possessed with the strength of five, and good news, there are more. The first of the troop of Demons lets loose a cry capable of rupturing eardrums before a hissing takes its place, along with a steam of fire.
Wren had cause for reservations upon entrance to Hell. First off-- it's Hell. Secondly, his worry was justified, when all'a'sudden the hunting party became the hunted... With himself most certainly a target. And while the scrawny pretend-ninja didn't 'shriek', he certainly was caught by surprise (no matter how much you may expect the unexpected, you'll never be fully ready). Grateful to have that borrowed katana already in hand, the man made a poor job of protecting himself. With the mind of a ninja and the speed and grace of a clumsy newborn, any slices of metal into the air were pure chance if skin was met. That hack and slash attitude-- arms stiff and bent oddly, crouched still slightly from the incredibly awkward descent to this plateau of scalding rock, and a yammering of adrenaline with twitches and spasms of nervous fear-- left much to be desired. To top it all, this over-exerting form of fighting was even more energy-expelling in the intense heat of hell. The chasm wafted steam and created doubles in Wrenobi's vision; it threatened, to swim his mind and knock him out... If blood-loss from various wounds garnered through the heat-proof protection didn't threaten to set him lying down, as it were.
Cuki manages to hold back his intense desire to turn-heel-face. Live has not been easy on the Monk, but most normal people could never truly grow accustom to such eldritch horrors. Najide is not so lucky. The splatter of blood, gigantic demon, and growing nothingness is enough to drive her over the edge. Madness overcomes her fragile mind and she is gripped with horror. She begins babbling incoherently, repeating the following over and over again, "No. There is not a demon. This isn't happening. It is a hob. Hob. HOB. We are still fighting hobs. Demons don't exist. NO way." The poor Feline gives into her own self developed hallucination. Cuki can only sigh. He can't deal with her. Rather instead he places himself between the beast of horror and the rest of the party. The equipment on his back is cast aside. Mail, crossbow, rope, arrows, and misc supplies are useless. Cuki is unused to the tall tower shield he bears forth and plants into the ground at his left side. The Anti-mage's holy spear is set forth. He can only pray in silence that Aramoth will see him through his journey in Hell once again.
Mahri is sure that the barrier by now will keep a rear offense from taking place and she allows the vines to do what they do best, grow. Her rather astute hearing comes into play, despite the rumblings and the groanings form deep within the earth, she hears the call from the vampire, and she mutters softly, "The name is Mahri, not wolfess." Still she nods back to Tenebrae and changes her chant slightly, "Lady of the north, come to my aide. Cloak your chill about this raid. I seek and sow your chills hold, do cool us now with all good speed." As she chants, her breath becomes vaporous, the air cooling rapidly with each word. It would seem, winter has come to hell. A wolf, a man, both nearly a blur go running by, and Mahri has the insane urge to shift and join them. However she resists that impulse as quite suddenly, boulders dislodge, falling towards and around the lycan and the hunting pack, as she has come to think of them. Swift and sure, the lycan dodges them, sometimes leaping off the top of one boulder and onto the next before landing nimbly on her feet. Sparing a glance over her shoulder, she is shocked, and scared spit-less when she sees the gore and vitae left by an exploding goblin. The march of demons soon after is noted with narrowed eyes and the tightening of fist around staff. Bringing it up, she holds it loosely, and parallel to the ground horizontally in front of her. Demon screams, their battle cry fill the tunnel and she almost clasps her hands over her ears from the pain. Fire and ice..ice and fire meet as she tightens her reign on the cold, making it down right frigid. She'd always wondered if it was possible to freeze fire. Taking a moment to look behind her, she can't help but smell the blood from someone's wounds, either the strange fellow, or from Tenebrae, she wasn't sure. The vampire's injuries were going to be ignored for the simple fact that her species tended to heal faster than others, except maybe lycans. It was the oddity she sought, unsure of what he was, Mahri would lope back towards him and let the more experienced fighters take over. Of course, the lycan swings her staff, sweeping aside stray..creatures, just before she kneels beside the obviously inept and wounded Wren, "Be still," she hisses softly before a hand is laid upon his person without so much as a by-your-leave and a soft greenish-black aura seems to coat the appendage, then the man. Soft words, comfort and healing held in each syllable, are uttered, and soon, she would hope, the small injuries, even the larger are healed.
The horde advances, one leaps with a mighty beat of its wings and sails for Wren, gnashing teeth and curved claw at the ready.
Saul blinks as he suddenly finds himself in a place he was not previously, last he could remember he was speaking to his mother then bam! He was here. Well he sees the vines that Tenebrae was speaking about, and he looks around noticing nobody. So the avian walks forward, his wings frothing furiously with the extreme cold his body radiates and he brings a pale blue hand to his back, a sickening sword is drawn, dangerously curved and looked as if it were hewn from ice itself. Though it was very much steel. He smiles as the air suddenly begins to thin and the very warmth slowly being pulled from the air, thus is the effect of the blade being out. Tundra's Bite held loosely in the Cryomancer's hand. He looks around again and then back to the vines. He didn't know if the blades effect would last deeper into this place but he knew that is where his magics would come in handy, especially his new found Liquid Ice magic, a rather dangerous thing if I may say so. Anyway he sighs and begins hacking away at the vines, the blade's edge fine but the sides crude. The weapon cuts easily through the vines, as it has cut easily through the ice hardened scales of a White Dragon, (more or less easily) He smirks as everything is finally done and he looks about, giving a whistle and a white griffon comes to his side. The avian Cryomancer pulls a medium length spear from the griffon's side and removes the leather blade cover, the tip frothing like his wings. He then shoos the griffon off and takes flight into the cave, feeling a bit of a tingle before he stops short, touches down and finds that there is a nice battle going on with a rather imposing 10ft thing...creature...whatever. He doesn't know what quite to do so he waits to see if he could be of any use and he sees a group of people already in the fight. The affect of the blade follows him just as his body that radiates the cold and he plans to use both forms of cold to aid here.
Tenebrae was a creature of pure instinct in battle, reduced to an organism that responded to stimuli as her gut saw fit. As the air cooled, she felt it, and the bite of a Hobgoblin's sword, the spatter of wet flesh as one was riven in a thousand pieces, the sear of flame spat from a demon's mouth. The horror of what was occurring all around her, this she was blind to, knowing only the fierce and terrible need to sunder all who were not of the upper world born. The healer's spells wrought cure on flesh, and the clash of weapons rang loud. All around, lopped limbs and wings, heads and tails, landed in steaming heaps as Portea's psionic weapons slashed into the horde. But it was all as mere backdrop to the necromancer, who knew only what was in front of her, carcass after carcass hitting the rocky cave-floor, until a sudden pressure at her back had her half-turn, and Portea was grinning. "Two-headed beast?" He rapidly returned to the fight, and the two pivoted in place, offering a 360-degree reign of sharp death upon all enemies in short range and long. Soon, a veritable short wall of bodies and parts surrounded the pair, and in a brief respite given by Saul's entrance-- the demons all focussing on the cryomancer at once, hissing and spitting, she'd finally find mind enough to see the fallen Wren, the woman at his side, the glow of healing.... And then, all so distracted by the chill of ice and unexpected company, a single demon surged up from the hellish bowels of its home, and leapt upon the addled man, and then another, Mahri slashed and snapped at as they tore into him, the lycaness surely to be next. "WREN!" Tene tugged Portea's arm, and the pair dashed across the cave-- but too late. Too late. The shredded remains of Wren hung from needle-toothed maws, and razor-claws, and in a bloodied pile upon the ground. "Wren!" It was a shriek of grief, of rage, and Tene was suddenly blind to herself and to her many wounds again, her sword a blur of ebon that might be perceived only by the spray of demon-ichor and lopped limbs left in its wake.
Wren wobbled and swayed with the pain of his injuries, some relatively minor. His hack and slash method-- while perhaps not inflicting much damage, at least kept the beasts with brains at bay. The fat squalid buggers kept a slight indifference to this surface-dweller, injecting misery and spilling blood only when absolutely sure there was such an opening to enact this operation. It was like a game. Then, seemingly in Wren's mind, with the cold bite of the Ice Queen came the tumbling of the craggy world around this hunting party. Boulder fell from the faux-sky above them, jutted walls of rock breaking apart like so many of the human's illusions always do. With the goblins falling victim to their own home, Wren was left to focus on the pain and the rapidly changing atmosphere-- two influential circumstances in the man losing his grip on the only sanity he had... One that he had created. Wrenobi no longer existed. In the ninja's place was the same Wren that everyone else had seen: a scared little human with dirty blonde hair, and a strange air of confidence despite his mannerisms. All in all, simply an odd being. While he dashed about and dodged tumbling rocks, he went ever forward to the fray. At some point that the boulders ceased to rain havoc to this group, he was met by the lycan. Here, finally, he was free to fall down onto the ground-- cooled considerably with two ice-powers in effect-- and pant, from exhaustion. Here, Wren let the women care for his wounds in such a daze so as not to understand what was happening. Much thanks passed from him to the woman, as the more serious of wounds were healed enough to allow the man to roam without hamper. The illusionist stood with katana in hand, and watched in horror as beasts of epic proportions and wings, and claws, and jaws, swooped in from above to overtake this scene.
Wren proved that in frays, one must always pay attention to a million things at once-- not even a bug on the ground should go unnoticed. The man's attention on that large beast was what became his death. Not even the lycaness, that poor woman who took the time out of her life to heal his wounds, could save the human in time. Jaws cracked open to reveal rows of teeth, unnatural to any that this man had ever even thought up. He was on the ground writhing, petrified, trying to back-peddle along the cooled ground as the demons neared. They snapped-- maw near face-- and then proceeded to tear asunder the poor being's form. He let out terrified screams and writhed and fought; that hack and slash method of swordery did little in this close proximation of determined beasts, hell-bent on getting his flesh. Fire-proof armour fell away from his form like onion skin, and what was left of Wren quickly torn. Blood pooled from his corpse; his screaming had finished the moment one set of nasty claws ripped open his throat and severed vocal chords. The two demons made shot order of the human. They ate him as if he were a common steak served at Mesthak's. ~~~~ There had been little time to react. A wavering of gratitude mucked by the fear of the beast that loomed so viciously afore them. Before much could be done, he was on the ground, and in pain-- oh, did it course through his veins, wrack his body, and null all thoughts! Protection; he tried so desperately to illusion himself anywhere else, feeling anything else, or better yet... dead. But the pain was too much and all too real, as teeth and nails literally tore the human apart. He was so conscious for most of it. Was there no reprieve? At last it came, when he instinctively knew that his throat had been sliced open as messily as the rest of his body had been. Gutted, Wren was dead. The illusionist felt at that moment, that last, single second of existence in regards to a soul, that he was the happiest he had ever been. Peace took over his form and were he able to twitch the muscles of his face, surely there would be the widest smile to ever take place upon that smooth visage. But most of all: his eyes smiled. In the midst of his death, those eyes no longer held a lackluster, crap-brown appearance. Nay, his eyes shone with vibrance; sparkled with mirth; rattled with sanity. In the last breath to leave his body, Wren looked more alive than he ever had.
Nemisis appears from out a narrow path running against the wall. He travels above the ceiling and balls a fist. As he bends his knees, he focuses more energy upon his feet. With a giant push, he shoots himself downward upon the horde. As he reaches them he releases a giant punch into the ground causing a bunch of monsters to scatter into the air. He then Extends his palm towards the air, unleashing a blast that incinerates the open beasts. Before Nemisis could greet his fellow friends a giant tentacle monster entangles him within its grasp and is spun closer to its mouth. Curses flying out his mouth like bats out of hell, the man grips the sticky limb and rips it apart. He stands there looking at the monstrosity before saying, “You’re one ugly beast.” With a daring feat, he leaps at the beast with his sword at his side. In a quick push of the guard, he unleashes his blade upon the monster, slicing it in half. As Nemisis watches the beast squirm he notices that the two halves begin to grow. As the cancerous cells increase before his eyes, the one tentacle monster becomes two. Running at one of the monsters, he slices at the limbs wildly hoping to cripple at least one beast. To his dismay the beast begins to regenerate as fast he as can cut. To make matters worse the next beast begins its attack; black tendrils lashing out at the demi as he attacks its comrade. Sensing the oncoming attack, the draconian opens up his tail blades and does an acrobatic spin. Within the momentum of his feat he grabs his scythe with one hand and the katana in the other and begins his attack as the tentacles try to engulf him. In mere seconds the limbs become mince meat causing the beasts to howl in pain. As he lands the man places his katana and his scythe across his stomach, both blades facing his opponents. Bending his knees and spacing his feet further apart, his next stance is taken. Just before he launches at them the ground begins to shake sending his mind into disarray. The man decides to ignore the obvious noise as he realizes his present opponents are already regenerating. Once again before he launch he is interrupted by the ground opening up beneath him. Before he knew it, Nemisis was engulfed by the giant crater, trapped within the bowls of a worm.
The demons en mass swarm upon the group of persons, sharp teeth begging to be sunk into warm flesh, to feel the muscle be torn from bone and the coppery taste of blood. Razor like claws swing and swoosh, capable of lopping off any head of a careless person.
Cuki blinks trying to keep focused. The fluid nature of Hell begins to warp chaotically around him. A solid slope to an open ravine to the abyss and finally to it current state as a wide rock platform. Every blink seems to alter the terrain. The edges of reality curve in every direction at once. There only seems to be one constant: The creatures of the pit. Cuki turns his attention purely on them, ignoring his surroundings. Out of pain Wren gives out etches deeply in the Monk. This is quickly getting out of control. With strict determination he calls out a challenge to the fiends, invoking the name of his deity. Greatly angered they turn their attention to the Human. From mouth, beak, tentacle, appendage, and whatever passes as an orifice for these huge shamblers spew flames. The crisping of Hellish flames roars against the very air. His tower shield is all that separates him from death. Its reinforced dragon scales and steel protest against the onslaught, melting the spiked tips it saves him. Not a repeatable act. Even the scales of a great red succumb and melt away into little more than mother's milk. Shoving it aside Cuki brings his Khakkahara up. The copper rings echo loudly in the shifting cavern. From this the demons cringe backwards of the presence of even such a small gift from a High God. Cuki strikes true and cleaves deep into the front most devil. Spear edge sinking in deep. It stains purple with the blood of hell. Disgustingly the flesh tears as the belly is opened wide and intestines spill about Cuki as his clothing burns wildly against his skin. He roars a single order, "Run."
Mahri , covered in bits of flesh and guts, and thoroughly soaked in blood, sits in shock, but not for long as her body contorts and twists. Her nose and mouth begin to jut out, forming the snout of a wolf, ears slide upwards as her skull elongates as well as her spine, dropping the woman to all fours just as black fur begins to sprout all over her body. Hands turned into paws, with deadly claws for slashing, feet as well took on the appearance and quite soon..faster than she ever had before, Mahri was wolf. Her teeth, tinged pink from a lingering bit of crimson vitae and coated with foam, were bared to the demons in a vicious snarl. She had healed..given life, and they had taken it, these demons. The wolf lunged at the beast coming for her, meeting it head on with tooth and claw snapping and tearing at his cursed flesh. Grey eyes flashed with a feral light a her teeth sank into a wing, sawing through bone and tendon. Startled with the head-on approach, the demon dove to the ground, right for it's brethren who had recently made mince meat of Wren. Thirst was strong, the thirst and need for revenge. Now she was all hunter, all wolf and out to make her kill. Drawing up her hind legs, Mahri kicked just as her back was slammed into the other demon, her claws finding luck, and flesh, tearing open it's belly to spill out steaming, fetid guts. Her own survival at stake now, Mahri fights just as she had not too long ago. In fact, if one had the time and looked closely, they just might see three bare spots in parallel lines down her left side. With a yelp of pain and surprise at the suddenly landing, the wolf scrambled out from under the demon, only to find herself faced with more. In fact, it looked to be a bloody legion, and all with that same hungry gleam in their thrice-damned eyes. Keeping low to the ground, the wolf darts among the combatants, weaving her way forward, closer to the hole through which he demons emerged. Taking note of the hole, Mahri settles on her haunches and closes her eyes. Raising some sort of aura, a barrier of sorts, the lycan begins another chant in her head, one with which to pull down the vines again, though these were different than the others. These had flowers, pale, delicate petals that held a deadly secret within. A rather wolfish grin is displayed, tongue lolling out one side as her rips heaved with each panting breath. The vines, a vibrant and un-real green, intertwine, weaving together much like a spider's web, to provide a blockage, a seal against the demons. While the wolf worked, she sensed the presence of another and to the frigid avian, her thoughts find root, ~Build me an Ice wall, around the greenery, but not the flowers~ When anyone that the lycan has not told the flowers is a friend wanders by carelessly, the fuchsia petals would open, the center dominated by a single projectile, a dart filled with toxic venom, deadly to most creatures, and the lycan hopes, poisonous to these as well.
Tene's eyes were like platters when a new kind of demon erupted from below, and Nemisis appeared as though by pure magic from above as the answer to it... or.... not? He was shortly swallowed into the bowels of the worm, while new threats continued to erupt from the cavern's throat. Oboy, had she underestimated the task she'd set her little crew on, and her voice would rise now to echo after that of the heat-frazzled Cuki in a cry to..."RETREAT! Grab what parts you can, and run!" Before the next wave of demons spewed out of their hell-hole, she'd tugged a roll of sacks from her pack, once her spear found a place in the nearest monstrosity, freeing her hand to do so. These were thrown toward any who were not occupied in life-and-death circumstances, or left to fall where they may, and she'd round the cave as though to herd her small troop -- what remained of them -- forward toward the exit. A worried glance back, and she wondered what might prevent the rest of Hell's occupants rising to meet their unwelcome "guests". Portea, too, saw opportunity for further mayhem and focussed his abilities on making a wall, or psionic shield, against the cavern's depths, perhaps buying the others a little time... Portea, wounded, gave the vampiress a sharp look that told her his 'wall' was weakening by the moment. Tene hadn't seen Mahri's change, but the deadly darts of flowers were apparent enough, along with the ice-and-vine construction now shoring up the hellmouth. She only prayed it held, or that someone could further strengthen it, give the party time to gather what they'd come for... or the whole battle, and indeed Wren's tragic demise... would all be for nought. Her eyes, seeking these prizes, landed on the spot where Nemisis 'vanished', and she hesitated, wondering whether she should pull him free, or even -could-.
Saul blinks at the demons that began to snarl and do rather nasty things at him, he looks to himself to find that he is inappropriately dressed for such an occasion and then back up as he watches many of the beasts going to occupy themselves with Cuki and Mahri. Though a few come rushing toward the avian. He gives a little groan as he still is not in any immediate danger. He huffs finally and his breath comes rolling out in a thick fog, the avian then taps his spear against the ground and it begins to freeze, thick and smooth, despite the heat of this place the ice stays but with some obvious strain on the avian. He grins and the creatures finally reach this circle of ice and he taps the ice again. The ice cracks and then giant spikes of jagged thick ice jut out from the floor of frozen ground, each of those creatures impaling themselves on the spikes and writhing in pain, only to soon die off and stay on the ice. The avian prides himself with the kill until a shot of pain hits him, some creature decides to sneak around and take a claw to his back, ripping through the muscles of his wings and tearing off the leather sheath on his back. The avian goes wild, his radiation dropping to a near unbearable cold and his wings frothing madly. He slams the spear into the ground where it sticks and wheels about, quickly grabbing the creatures throat and clamping, to all who could see, a nasty ice burn began to creep up the creatures neck and down his chest, but on the inside the avian was making his throat and airways freeze before sending a point of ice to the brain of the monster. It's eyes roll back and it topples over. He then looks at the wall of shrubbery and fights back the pain of torn muscles as he stretches out a hand his veins showing and an icy haze gathering over his hand, then the ground near the greenery froze thick and solid, a wall of random jagged ice spike rose from the ground, a very unwelcoming sight. Then the sound of 'Run' is heard and he looks to the others to see what he should do next while slicing a few other monsters that stray near or letting them impale themselves on another spike that rose from his icy floor.
Nemisis growls as he realizes he was eaten. This pissed the man off royally. Here, he came to help his friends with a nice little entrance, only to be eaten in a gulp. As he falls down the worm's esophageus, redirects his attack to beast's throat lining in mid air. Unfortunately, his katana barely makes a mark and his scythe only gets stuck. This only caused the draconian's temper to grow. Pulling himself up onto his scythe, he balances himself upon the handle and focuses his energy. Cupping his hands togethers, light emitting from one hand and dark from the other, he combines the opposing forces and opens up a rogue portal. Instantly the worm begins to sucked into the portal from the inside out. From the outward appearance, it looked as if imploded. As Nemisis reappeared in a gucky mess, he was just in time to hear Tenebrae call a retreat. Leaving the side of his rogue attack, he grabs his scythe and begins slash towards people. First he was able to grab Tenebrae, and without hesitation he flings her towards his portal. At the other end was the Vailkrin and whether the woman liked it or not, she was about to be covered with demon guts and parts that continue to be pulled into the portal. Luckily, everyone else wasn't far apart. Taking fully advantage his tail, he scoops Saul and Mahri up and flings them Tenebrae's way as well. Finally he reaches Cuki who is wildly fighting. Without letting him know he was there, Nemisis grabs him by the collar and launches towards the portal. As he watches everyone make their way safely through the portal he notices Wren's mangled body upon the ground. With that trusty tail of his he manages to grab him and exit the portal along with Cuki, escaping the depths of hell.
-- The Hanging Corpse Tavern--
Nemisis appears dropping his passengers off. As he looks at his appearance he mutters, "Well that was fun...." It was apparent he was still annoyed and frankly embarrassed. Dragging his hand through his short hair he says, "I need a bath." He pulls off a finger from between his ears, "Pronto."
Tenebrae landed in a heap of bodies and body parts and rocks and all manner of debris sucked through that portal. Including Portea, who she'd snagged by arm and dragged in there, right along with her. The psion oomphed as he rolled off of her, nursing his wounds, and Tene looked around at the mess, clansmates, helpers, all. "Thanks, Nemisis." Her voice was slightly cracked. "get Steadman to run you a bath, and have a nice room on the house for tonight. I'll sort this mess out." She stopped then, and blinked-- all were present and accounted for... but for Cuki... and his secretary... the hapless Wren and... "Oh no. Peregrine!"
Nemisis smiles and says, "Thanks a bunch." With that he slowly mushes his way towards the staircase. The mess was thicker than mud so the man basically had to stomp his way towards the bathroom. After a few minutes he made it to the stairwell and vanished
( Tene-note: There'll be a post after this from me, wrapping things up but am too tired atm to post it, lol)
Cuki leans back against the frame. One of the swing doors leading to his kitchen sits angled allowing more of the drumming noise to filter into the common room. From there he watches Tene with curiosity. The dumping of weapons causes one eye-brow to lift up.
Mahri didn't follow very closely behind Tenebrae. That would seem to be rather subordinate in her own mind and so, she trailed just far enough behind as to seem to ~not~ be following. Oh, she knew where they were going. The lycan had been there before, several times and the last time with painful results. She wondered briefly if things were still the same in the cellar before pushing that tough from her head. Business was at hand, and Mahri was a bit curious. So, she pushed the door open as it was almost closed and watched with lofted brows as Tenebrae removed supplies from her closet. Weapons, of course, were supplies if you planned on killing something.
Wren waltzed in the tavern, his usual self-- a fabrication. There was a mission to be done, and he felt like a secret agent! With this, there was need for stealth, bravery, stoicism, etcetera! And such, Wrenobi rather -snuck- into the establishment. False was black attire that masked his visage but left those expressionless crap-brown eyes to peer out. Of course, his silent patterns of footprints across the floorboards lent no suspicion to the multitude of weapons hidden among his form (all of which never did exist anyways).
Cuki calls out to Tene in a somewhat raised voice, "You do know we do have a small armory back here?" Here is of course indicated by his motioning to the chaotic room behind him.
Peregrine followed the crowd to the tavern, then went to his broom closet, masquerading as a bedroom, then dressed in full battle armour. He emerged with his brother warrior, LouGarou, an onyx wolf buffed with tar resin, which slunk beside him as if threading a needle through a sanguinary god’s nightmare with every step. His left wrist rested almost casually on the hilt of his warrior’s long-sword. It swayed in its scabbard with his gate. His face, fecund scar throbbing, was cold and blank. Every movement was precise, controlled, utterly relaxed, the wrapped-iron muscles on his arms flexing his fingers like eagle talons. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, I think.”
Sophie is a little protective of that stone floor, she had worked hard laying the slabs and polishing them after all, and is a bit annoyed to see how Tenebrae unceremoniously dumped several sharp objects onto it.
Tenebrae huffed a breath over lips set to thin line, and raised her eyes to those gathered. "Got a little job for any who are up for it." Silent greeting was given sundry clansmates and friends, each nod and gesture perfunctory. "I need sharp eyes and sharper weapons. You'll need to don flame-resistant armours..." Her next words were spoken in a low tone. "I hear Hell is warm this time of year." The necromancer's peridot gaze swept the small crowd. "Who's in, for a spot of hunting?"
A slow grin, a real grin. Not a twisted one, or a wry one, curves Mahri's lips upwards. Yes, a hunt was just what this lycan needed. "Hunting is what I do best." Fire resistant armor? The lycan was only a tad worried about that as she looked over the weapons and such scattered upon the floor.
Cuki grins a little. He simply can't help it. He will bring it. Hard. A silly little bandage on his cheek wobbles threatening to fall off. His booming voice to cut over the din of curses and clatters surely does not help. A moment's pause before the affects are seen. Stepping aside several of the heavier cooks file suit. On their backs and in their hands are some of the contents of the aforementioned armory. They crudely and promptly dump their contents before rushing back.
Portea meanders into the Corpse, feeling good enough to go try and talk to Tenebrae, but as he walks in, he hears mention of a hunt, which catches his interest. ~Count me in, Tenebrae.~ The psion projects to the vampiress as it is too painful for him to speak at the moment, considering the recent neck wound and all. He walks the rest of the way into the tavern and leans against one of the walls.
Tenebrae mentalist a wry grin, when his words echoed in her mind, and turned back to watch her chef add to the arsenal. "Gear up. Cuki, do you know the way to that ruined castle, in the south of Cenril?"
Wren lofted a brow behind what he thought was a balaclava covering his visage smooth as a bairn's bottom; a hunt? Surely such was what ninja's were called to arms for. Or something. At any rate, the man would subtly-- he's in hiding, and all-- lower his chin, an indication that such would be a most agreeable venture. To Hell. "Huh..." he murmured. A part of the real Wren inside squirmed for a moment. His own illusion nearly crumbled and courage nearly ran out the door-- but such was saved. In the aftermath however, the ninja's gloved hand reached for his sword over his shoulder-- to find it missing. Seems Wren forgot to project the image of such. He began inching forward, eyes on that long sword, sitting by itself in the midst of all the metal.
Mahri found a nice lonely wall to lounge against, one foot crossing the other as she watched the goings on. Pushing a rather badly tangled lock of what could have been hair out of her eyes, she eyes the staff with a flicker of interest.
Cuki coughs a little bit. He actually had not intended to use any of them. Not a bad idea though. "But of course." Said castle was not a fun place. Surprisingly Cuki has been to Hell before--as well as Heaven--so the inference between the vague memory of heat from both didn't seem too far off. An extra spear, some chainmail, and a shield wouldn't hurt even if he never used them. His attention is quickly turn to his secretary. The drunkard of a woman was downing another glass of Dwarven Spirits. Best catch her before she got completely plastered. "If you want to continue on my tab you better come along." A mild growl is followed by burst of extensive arguing between the two in lower, private tones.
Tenebrae studied the pile of weapons and armours, her eyes picking out this and that thing she found adequate to the task. Moment later, she'd be buckling and strapping, stowing weapons in the straps that crossed her back. "Whoever’s coming, gear up quickly. We have a window of time that won't wait. The stars are right, soon, and I have a small task to see to before we really get into it."
Mahri waited her change, a clear space before wandering over to pick up the staff. Her hands ran over the smooth surface in a gentle caress before she stepped back and let the others who had elected to jump aboard this adventure take the things they desired.
Portea reaches into his pocket and silently activates his psychoactive skin, allowing it to freely envelope his body before it shimmers, becoming completely transparent. ~Was there a reason you'd wanted to see me after I was well enough?~ He once more projects to Tenebrae as he reaches around to make sure his own sword is securely in place. Might as well bring along a couple of daggers, too, just in case.
The call of the elements though, is too hard to resist, and the lycan darts forward on nimble feet to pluck it from among the pile.
Tenebrae said to Portea, "Aye, but it might have to wait, til after this." She gave him a soft smile, to hide the sorrow she felt at the news which would no doubt take the psion's mind from the task at hand."
Portea merely nods, sensing the hidden sorrow, but knowing well enough to not press her for more.
Jasper looks around room. "You guys going on a hunt?
Tenebrae would then wait for the others to be done arming themselves, the vampiress clearly on edge. "Cuki, would you lead the others to the castle, while I fetch the... uh. The last item we need?"
Sophie said to Jasper, "I'm not sure, my friend, seems to me we are just making a mess of the floor so far.” She grins.
Jasper eyes lands on pile of armoury and weaponry.
Tenebrae eyed the draconian stranger, and nodded. "That we are. The more the merrier. You in?"
Jasper eyes fixated on metal. “Well if you are, I'm in.”
Sophie takes a crossbow, loads a bolt and winds it up, careful to keep it pointed away from the others present.
Tene grinned back at Sophie. "Sorry pet." She turned to Jasper. "You seem well-armed already, and your heritage will help with the flames. But if you see something you need..."
Mahri looks with distaste, and not too little disdain at the armor. She'd always hated the feel of such against her body, and was rather reluctant to use it now. "Is it very necessary, vampire?" With no names being exchanged, the lycan would simply call Tenebrae that, but not meaning it as derogatory. Not in the least, since it seemed all their lives would be connected for the next while.
Jasper takes a suit of armour.
Wren made a victorious nab for that katana. With both hands on the hilt of the sword, he felt truly whole. And next was the fire-proof armour. A few pieces were donned, enough so that his skin wouldn't be burned the moment they entered that ... Hell. With all that in place, he looked toward the fellow human that would lead them. "Ready," his small voice squeaked out in a facade of manly determination.
Peregrine said to Tenebrae, "Do we strike from the left hand of Justice herself, in which case I must watch my manners, or must we pray to lesser gods from warmer climes? I’d like to keep my cigar lit while I eviscerate.”
Tenebrae snapped a metal hook to her belt, and tested the edge of her spear by nicking the wood on a table (out of the sight of Steadman's singular eye, though).
Jasper eyes her. “I’m sure it will and I'll just take one more thing"
Jasper runs finger along edge of the blade” I’m ready when you guys are."
Mahri straps sword and sheath across her back and palms the staff. She'll use it as a walking stick for a while, until it's use becomes apparent. It didn't speak to her overly much, but Mahri was sure given time, it's secrets would be revealed to her.
Jasper sits down keeping an eye on possessions.
Cuki glances back at Tenebrae. His hand has been somewhat forced. Rather than carrying on with Najide he just gives in. A rather large pouch exchanges hands. Brighter than ever she jumps up and grabs her mace. Najide's dark red tail wags back and forth, petting the purse. Cuki can only roll his eyes and give answer, "Yes. Let us take our leave." As he starts to walk to the door he makes sure to clear his throat loudly, "Come on EVERYONE." The emphasis is clearly aimed and noticed with a grudging hiss. And as such they all file suit out of the tavern to Cenril.
Tenebrae cleared her throat, and looked around at the little company. "I will speak plainly. This day, we go to the outer reaches of Hell, in search of lesser demons. I need them cut into parts, and those parts brought back here. There is a bounty of two thousand gold pieces for each sackful you bring back." She paused. "You should manage at least one each, probably no much more-- these things are big. About ten feet, winged, clawed and fire-spitting, and very hard to kill. Be careful. And make sure to gather wings, it is essential to my needs." Then she slipped out the door after Cuki, though headed in quite the opposite direction from the crowd who followed him.
Portea smirks at the mention of their prey, thinking that this ought to be an interesting hunt. Finding everything secure and sound, the psion follows after the antimage.
Mahri grimaces, a twisting of facial features that indicate, not that she is reluctant, but the fact that there will be so much blood to be cleaned off of herself. Her free hand raises to scratch absently at her scalp. That dwarf hadn't been too far from the truth in saying Mahri might be infested with fleas. She hadn't bathed in...she couldn't remember how long, but it mattered little to the lycan. Heaving a sigh, she starts for the door, and almost certain carnage.
The rest of the arsenal was left for Steadman to pick up. The barkeep grumbled, stacking the items back into the store-room.
Mahri looked at the draconian, so eager to fight, she was almost afraid he'd end up dead rather than killing anything. With a shrug, Mahri keeps to the edge of the gathered hunters. How much this reminded her of a pack, and the vampire was the alpha.
-- The Ruined Castle, Cenril--
Tenebrae was late to the gathering, as she said she'd be. Possibly the terrified and blindfolded creature she was dragging along behind her wasn't helping her speed her progress to the castle's ruin. The half-elf was obviously of slave-stock, and male, bound and gagged, though muffles pleas for mercy would sound through a thick kerchief. Tenebrae did not look at all haughty or malicious as she pulled the unfortunate along. Just calm, and businesslike. The hunting party were greeted with a single nod. "Nobody gets a free ride into Hell." That was her explanation for what was about to occur.
Jasper looks at the group he is gathered with and thinks to himself, "When will I stop teaming with full humans? I guess it’s cause of my human traits."
Mahri leans upon the staff, fingers curled lightly around it's smooth length as she listens intently. There is always a price for risky business practices, and most of the time she was willing to pay them, the slave though, was a nice change to having the price taken out of her own hide. She felt nothing for the plight of the bound and gagged half-elf. Well, nothing more than indifference anyway.
Jasper leans back against a tree, half feeling sorry for the elf, and half wants to end his life right now
Peregrine took a fat cigar from beneath his cloak, flourished a match from seemingly nowhere, and lit it with relish. No light, however, betrayed the wings of the peregrine lammergeyer that hovered in grace and glory, like a predator’s heaven, above their heads in this castle ruin. He was ready to slice the night to pieces. He blew a sinuous ouroboros of smoke to the sky’s expanse, then cast his gaze on the half-elf slave without pity.
Tenebrae took in the various responses to the slave's presence, while she forced the half-bred to his knees. The male was struggling, but no match for a well-fed vampiress, and for the sake of the tender-hearted Sophie and any other who'd shown regret for his Fate, offered something of relief for the conscience, perhaps. "This creature is a traitor to his kind, a killer of his own. I am assured, there is a place waiting in Hell for him." A slender blade was snicked from its sheath at her waist, jewelled and darkly-bladed. "I recommend that you all block your ears, about now." She'd wait for the group to comply, before she began incanting the horrendous and near-unintelligible words that soon had the ground trembling lightly, and the sheer rock wall before them shedding flakes of stone. The sound built to an unbearable shriek, beyond even the measure of Tene's own whiplash cries, and it was at this peak that the knife was drawn with a single, vicious swipe across the throat of the sacrifice. The body fell, while gouts of arterial blood washed the stone before them. The barrier, with a mighty 'crack', spilt asunder, leaving a narrow gap through which the party could travel. Tene gestured to them wildly. "Hurry!" She eyed the ale. "No time for that. We can come back for it. IF we survive." She was pointing to a downward-leading path, from which a warm and foetid breeze blew.
Cuki stayed back. Cuki knew well to keep his distance from these rites. The sight of the Elf was disconcerting enough in itself make him keep his distance, even though he was a half-breed and slave. Cuki was so inclined to believe Tenebrae's words about him. He trusted her, but you never really know. Much to his surprise the screams is heard by his ears and entrance seems rather normal to his eyes. Surprise locks the Monk. Broken only by a swift yank from Najide and her berating tone, "You ain't chickening out now boss." As suggested they quickly move to the crack and move downwards. Cuki shortly overcoming is overpaid secretary, becoming the vanguard of the group.
Mahri covered her ears, letting the staff lean against her own body now. As the chant reached it's peak, it was nearly impossible to drown out the shriek from Tenebrae's words. Narrowing her eyes to mere slits, the lycan watched and waited, something she was good at. As soon as the vampiress pointed to the break in space and time, she was off, running for Hell and wondering, for the first time, if she had made the right choice in accepting this offer. Gold or no, the lycan was not very keen on being singed, scarred or even killed. For an instant, she longed for the cool shadows of the forest, the thrill of the chase, the rush of the hunt, and then..her world was gone and in it's place was, to put it mildly, Hell. Dragging in deep breaths of tainted air, laced as it was with the sulphuric stink of rotten eggs, Mahri glanced around, all at once concerned that the others, whom she would have to get their names later, had made it through the gap.
Peregrine covered his ears as advised. He watched the vampiress’ facial contortions and the dark blade slice open the slave’s throat. As the ground shook, he grabbed the hilt of his sword and nodded to LouGarou, whose flamious eyes took in the bloodletting without a trace of need or concern. “Got a date with the devil, Brother Lou,” he said to the wolf with a baritone rumble. “Let’s make party of it, you and I.” He followed the human Cuki and the female lycan down, smoke from his cigar trailing like wings from his forehead.
Portea shows only indifference towards the slave, willing the ectoplasmic skin to grow more dense near his ears so as to block out the sound. As soon as he sees the others darting towards the newly formed rift, the psion dashes after them. ~I'll be back.~ He projects to his bronze companion high up in the skies, who gives a mighty roar in protest, but is otherwise unable to stop the psion.
Tenebrae was the rear guard to Cuki and Najide's lead, stepping over the corpse of the sacrifice toward the gap after the others had gone through. All but Sophie, that is, who hung back, staring at the dead man sadly, and the draconian, who had obviously elected to stay with the beer. Tene's voice was gentle, addressing Sophie. "Do me a favour?" The woman nodded assent. "Please cover him up, even he deserves dignity for such service in death. And stay here, if you will. We will need somebody whole in case we ..." She swallowed. "Need a healer." Sophie nodded again, clearly not at ease with the situation, though she offered Tene a kindly smile. The necromancer patted the lycaness' shoulder, and moved off in to the heated scar that led into Hell, drawing her spear from its strapping on her pack. It was then she noticed Wren, still to take the plunge -- or so to speak. "You coming?"
Ninja's don't cry. Nor are afraid of anything. The man brought to his death, a sacrificial opening to Hell, was given barely a second's thought; a brief hello, goodbye, then the little bugger was dead. Wren had spent his time with each index finger in his ear holes, eyes squinted against the utter onslaught of the show. And now it was time to act. The others passed through the slip in the wall, and then there was the vampiress, asking him a question. Though he'd neglected to remove those fingers from his ears, the jist was simple: get your butt in there. A moment later his legs began to work once more. Hands removed, they were free to grab the katana he had put blade-down into the earth. Blood forced through his body and heart's pumping berating his ears in one last inner protest, the insane human ran toward his fellow comrades-- highly unnamed-- in Hell. How quaint.
Cuki is quick to lean backwards against the steepening slope. Not an easy task when your elbows brush against the juddering and inconsistent walls. Very hot walls at that. Those behind him should be glad he is taking the brunt of the heat. Half stumbling and being pushed by his party members Cuki simply could not take much notice of the surroundings. A grave mistake. As they come to a small plateau that opens up a little a ugly, fat quasi-demon greets Cuki with the sharp end of a sword. From behind him is the short squeal of the person thought of by him as a madman who follows up the rear. The other Hobgoblin must have been hiding in the shadows. Not a good beginning. All Cuki can do is parry the blade away with the side of his spear. Luckily the tunnel is actually somewhat tall. Little more than a feral beast of a Feline behind him jumps at the chance to bloody her spiky friend at the exposed Hob. A sicking crunch sounds as Najide strikes true on the exposed hand. Her mace large enough to splinter the bones and have one of the points exposed on the inside of the Hobgoblin's paw.
As the sickening crunch of a broken Hobgoblin hand echoed within the chasm, several others of its kin were making their way up the steep slope towards the band of travelers, eyes filled with rage and mouths foaming with the tantalizing taste of flesh on the horizon.
Mahri 's thickly calloused feet grab firmly at the hot floor of the downward path. Instead of leaning backwards though, she edges down sideways, finding it easier to balance if she has her left foot planted firmly ahead of the right. Her staff is used as a walking stick, poking out obstacles and moving them as needed. Perspiration beaded the lycan's forehead, cheeks..even her mess of hair began to drip wetly. Ahead of her, the human dodges a blow from a sword. Her hands tighten on the staff and already words are passing swiftly from her lips. Vines of every imaginable variety spring from the stone walls, the veins in the leaves thrumming with the heat as they absorbed it, making it into the sap that would have normally flowed in them. Behind the group, the shriek is heard and Mahri quickly, though not with a little effort, evidenced by the tightening lines around her eyes, weaves as sturdy a barricade as she can. Simply put..most ghoulies will find it hard to break through the entangled vines, while the hunting party would find it difficult to go back if not impossible. Unless of course, Mahri allowed the shield to fall. Now, rivulets of sweat seemed to bathe the lycan. Yes, a bath was in order when she got out.
A deep rumbling can be heard from deeper within the chasm, and the already nearly unbearable heat seems to rise.
Peregrine works his way with the others down the twisting tunnel. As they jostle and bump, he shouts loud enough for the cadre of fellow warriors to hear, “My name is Peregrine, by the by. This is my leashed conscience, Lou Garou. If you whistle twice in quick succession, and need help, Lou will come to you and try to kill anything with a grip on your flesh. He has your scent and will treat you like pack. I wouldn’t recommend trying it while in the arms of a lover, though. You’d both have a bad day. Nice to meet you all.” At last, they careen to the plateau opening before them. He sees Cuki already engaged with an ugly Hobgoblin and others of their nasty ilk moving toward them. LouGarou dashes forward after some prey that Peregrine cannot see. In a flash, he unsheathes his sword, his powerful arms extending the tip toward the dark and the menace. His tat of a Xalious tiger wrapped about his left arm leaks his blood from the exposed fang of the snarling beast. For 20 years its leaked, unstoppable, and profusely so during combat. He sees Lou round a corner with a loping gate in the distance. Moving quickly, he runs toward the disappearing canine, who’s headed with dead reckoning into a rumbling heat, while slashing at the fat, gobbling hobs with his sword. Then man and animal wink out like the moon behind a gibbering swarm of clouds, into the weaving tunnels ahead, perhaps never to be seen again.
Portea attempts to keep his mind on the task at hand, but with Peregrine's joke, he finds that to be increasingly difficult to do. Jolted back to reality by the sounds of fighting, he pulls free his psionic blade, a distinct ringing created from this simple action. Blocking out the thoughts of any mortals, he focuses upon all of the others, pin-pointing their location before they can find him. Fluid strikes lop off a hand here, a leg there, hell, maybe even a head. Lucky for him, he has his psychoactive skin to shield him from any blows that do happen to find their mark upon him, though that doesn't stop him from being knocked around by the force, if that should occur.
Tenebrae had paused to allow Wren to scamper ahead of her into the Chasm's narrow mouth. From her position in the line, she could not see all that far ahead into the red-lit murk of the caverns below, even with her night-sharp vampire's eyes, but as the place widened slightly she could make out the shapes of several small figures. What breed they were, she had no clue, but rightly guessed that anything originating down here was not a welcoming committee. Her lips parted to shout a warning, but clamped shut as the ring of steel and goblinish voices sounded, and she elected to simply loft her spear and tread forward quickly to what was obviously the fray. A wandering tendril slithered over her stout boot, and the rustle of vegetation was heard behind. A hasty glance back showed her the growing barrier, though the necromancer had not time to ponder its origin. She was hasty in turning back to the fight, where Cuki and Najide were making short work of the sentries. The near-unbearable heat was already taking its toll on flesh that was best kept chilled, and the rumbling and subsequent rise in temperature bode not well for her little group. "What in..." The last word was drowned by Peregrine's speech, which was hardly heard over the clatter of rocks that fell as the cave shook. Tene spied the janitor's form dashing closer to the source of the heat in pursuit of his wolven companion. "Pere!" This cry did escape her, "Come back! You'll be..." But Peregrine was gone, and a vicious nick was felt upon her ribs, even through the dragon-scaled armours that she wore. Wheeling, backing up as far as space permitted, hopefully not into any other sharp weapons, she hucked her spear forward sharply. The blade greeted a hobgoblin's hide-covered chest with a sickly 'thunk', and Tene would have to put her foot on the corpse to tug it out again, eyes that stung with sulphurous fumes already seeking her next target. The body-parts Portea was providing would likely be gratefully gathered later, should any be left to do so. Abruptly, a thickly-built greenhide was clung to her pack, having leapt on the vampiress from some rocky perch above. She had no recourse but to back up violently into the cavern wall, satisfied at the shortened shriek as small bones crushed against the force of it. And more came, and more.. Tene kept the spear in one hand, thinking it was time her midnight blade came into play, as well. It was soon employed in a veritable frenzy of hacking and slashing, her own wounds ignored for the moment. She glanced back to Mahri, allowing a fallen-but-not-dead Hobgoblin the chance to stab his sword into her left shin. "Wolfess! What about some of that chill...?"
Nemisis passes by quickly, his shadow only being noticed
The rumbling from below rocks the chasm this time, dislodging any loose rocks or boulders, several of which rain down upon the wayward band. Quick feet would be a handy tool. As the loosed earth falls, a boulder crushes and carries several of the advancing Hobgoblins down, down, down into the dark abyss. Stillness ensues, then a sound of wings is heard. Suddenly there is a bloody explosion of one of the few remaining Hobgoblins, blood and gore being sprayed every which way. Where once stood the beast, is now a rancorous, hideous winged creature, twice the height of a common man and possessed with the strength of five, and good news, there are more. The first of the troop of Demons lets loose a cry capable of rupturing eardrums before a hissing takes its place, along with a steam of fire.
Wren had cause for reservations upon entrance to Hell. First off-- it's Hell. Secondly, his worry was justified, when all'a'sudden the hunting party became the hunted... With himself most certainly a target. And while the scrawny pretend-ninja didn't 'shriek', he certainly was caught by surprise (no matter how much you may expect the unexpected, you'll never be fully ready). Grateful to have that borrowed katana already in hand, the man made a poor job of protecting himself. With the mind of a ninja and the speed and grace of a clumsy newborn, any slices of metal into the air were pure chance if skin was met. That hack and slash attitude-- arms stiff and bent oddly, crouched still slightly from the incredibly awkward descent to this plateau of scalding rock, and a yammering of adrenaline with twitches and spasms of nervous fear-- left much to be desired. To top it all, this over-exerting form of fighting was even more energy-expelling in the intense heat of hell. The chasm wafted steam and created doubles in Wrenobi's vision; it threatened, to swim his mind and knock him out... If blood-loss from various wounds garnered through the heat-proof protection didn't threaten to set him lying down, as it were.
Cuki manages to hold back his intense desire to turn-heel-face. Live has not been easy on the Monk, but most normal people could never truly grow accustom to such eldritch horrors. Najide is not so lucky. The splatter of blood, gigantic demon, and growing nothingness is enough to drive her over the edge. Madness overcomes her fragile mind and she is gripped with horror. She begins babbling incoherently, repeating the following over and over again, "No. There is not a demon. This isn't happening. It is a hob. Hob. HOB. We are still fighting hobs. Demons don't exist. NO way." The poor Feline gives into her own self developed hallucination. Cuki can only sigh. He can't deal with her. Rather instead he places himself between the beast of horror and the rest of the party. The equipment on his back is cast aside. Mail, crossbow, rope, arrows, and misc supplies are useless. Cuki is unused to the tall tower shield he bears forth and plants into the ground at his left side. The Anti-mage's holy spear is set forth. He can only pray in silence that Aramoth will see him through his journey in Hell once again.
Mahri is sure that the barrier by now will keep a rear offense from taking place and she allows the vines to do what they do best, grow. Her rather astute hearing comes into play, despite the rumblings and the groanings form deep within the earth, she hears the call from the vampire, and she mutters softly, "The name is Mahri, not wolfess." Still she nods back to Tenebrae and changes her chant slightly, "Lady of the north, come to my aide. Cloak your chill about this raid. I seek and sow your chills hold, do cool us now with all good speed." As she chants, her breath becomes vaporous, the air cooling rapidly with each word. It would seem, winter has come to hell. A wolf, a man, both nearly a blur go running by, and Mahri has the insane urge to shift and join them. However she resists that impulse as quite suddenly, boulders dislodge, falling towards and around the lycan and the hunting pack, as she has come to think of them. Swift and sure, the lycan dodges them, sometimes leaping off the top of one boulder and onto the next before landing nimbly on her feet. Sparing a glance over her shoulder, she is shocked, and scared spit-less when she sees the gore and vitae left by an exploding goblin. The march of demons soon after is noted with narrowed eyes and the tightening of fist around staff. Bringing it up, she holds it loosely, and parallel to the ground horizontally in front of her. Demon screams, their battle cry fill the tunnel and she almost clasps her hands over her ears from the pain. Fire and ice..ice and fire meet as she tightens her reign on the cold, making it down right frigid. She'd always wondered if it was possible to freeze fire. Taking a moment to look behind her, she can't help but smell the blood from someone's wounds, either the strange fellow, or from Tenebrae, she wasn't sure. The vampire's injuries were going to be ignored for the simple fact that her species tended to heal faster than others, except maybe lycans. It was the oddity she sought, unsure of what he was, Mahri would lope back towards him and let the more experienced fighters take over. Of course, the lycan swings her staff, sweeping aside stray..creatures, just before she kneels beside the obviously inept and wounded Wren, "Be still," she hisses softly before a hand is laid upon his person without so much as a by-your-leave and a soft greenish-black aura seems to coat the appendage, then the man. Soft words, comfort and healing held in each syllable, are uttered, and soon, she would hope, the small injuries, even the larger are healed.
The horde advances, one leaps with a mighty beat of its wings and sails for Wren, gnashing teeth and curved claw at the ready.
Saul blinks as he suddenly finds himself in a place he was not previously, last he could remember he was speaking to his mother then bam! He was here. Well he sees the vines that Tenebrae was speaking about, and he looks around noticing nobody. So the avian walks forward, his wings frothing furiously with the extreme cold his body radiates and he brings a pale blue hand to his back, a sickening sword is drawn, dangerously curved and looked as if it were hewn from ice itself. Though it was very much steel. He smiles as the air suddenly begins to thin and the very warmth slowly being pulled from the air, thus is the effect of the blade being out. Tundra's Bite held loosely in the Cryomancer's hand. He looks around again and then back to the vines. He didn't know if the blades effect would last deeper into this place but he knew that is where his magics would come in handy, especially his new found Liquid Ice magic, a rather dangerous thing if I may say so. Anyway he sighs and begins hacking away at the vines, the blade's edge fine but the sides crude. The weapon cuts easily through the vines, as it has cut easily through the ice hardened scales of a White Dragon, (more or less easily) He smirks as everything is finally done and he looks about, giving a whistle and a white griffon comes to his side. The avian Cryomancer pulls a medium length spear from the griffon's side and removes the leather blade cover, the tip frothing like his wings. He then shoos the griffon off and takes flight into the cave, feeling a bit of a tingle before he stops short, touches down and finds that there is a nice battle going on with a rather imposing 10ft thing...creature...whatever. He doesn't know what quite to do so he waits to see if he could be of any use and he sees a group of people already in the fight. The affect of the blade follows him just as his body that radiates the cold and he plans to use both forms of cold to aid here.
Tenebrae was a creature of pure instinct in battle, reduced to an organism that responded to stimuli as her gut saw fit. As the air cooled, she felt it, and the bite of a Hobgoblin's sword, the spatter of wet flesh as one was riven in a thousand pieces, the sear of flame spat from a demon's mouth. The horror of what was occurring all around her, this she was blind to, knowing only the fierce and terrible need to sunder all who were not of the upper world born. The healer's spells wrought cure on flesh, and the clash of weapons rang loud. All around, lopped limbs and wings, heads and tails, landed in steaming heaps as Portea's psionic weapons slashed into the horde. But it was all as mere backdrop to the necromancer, who knew only what was in front of her, carcass after carcass hitting the rocky cave-floor, until a sudden pressure at her back had her half-turn, and Portea was grinning. "Two-headed beast?" He rapidly returned to the fight, and the two pivoted in place, offering a 360-degree reign of sharp death upon all enemies in short range and long. Soon, a veritable short wall of bodies and parts surrounded the pair, and in a brief respite given by Saul's entrance-- the demons all focussing on the cryomancer at once, hissing and spitting, she'd finally find mind enough to see the fallen Wren, the woman at his side, the glow of healing.... And then, all so distracted by the chill of ice and unexpected company, a single demon surged up from the hellish bowels of its home, and leapt upon the addled man, and then another, Mahri slashed and snapped at as they tore into him, the lycaness surely to be next. "WREN!" Tene tugged Portea's arm, and the pair dashed across the cave-- but too late. Too late. The shredded remains of Wren hung from needle-toothed maws, and razor-claws, and in a bloodied pile upon the ground. "Wren!" It was a shriek of grief, of rage, and Tene was suddenly blind to herself and to her many wounds again, her sword a blur of ebon that might be perceived only by the spray of demon-ichor and lopped limbs left in its wake.
Wren wobbled and swayed with the pain of his injuries, some relatively minor. His hack and slash method-- while perhaps not inflicting much damage, at least kept the beasts with brains at bay. The fat squalid buggers kept a slight indifference to this surface-dweller, injecting misery and spilling blood only when absolutely sure there was such an opening to enact this operation. It was like a game. Then, seemingly in Wren's mind, with the cold bite of the Ice Queen came the tumbling of the craggy world around this hunting party. Boulder fell from the faux-sky above them, jutted walls of rock breaking apart like so many of the human's illusions always do. With the goblins falling victim to their own home, Wren was left to focus on the pain and the rapidly changing atmosphere-- two influential circumstances in the man losing his grip on the only sanity he had... One that he had created. Wrenobi no longer existed. In the ninja's place was the same Wren that everyone else had seen: a scared little human with dirty blonde hair, and a strange air of confidence despite his mannerisms. All in all, simply an odd being. While he dashed about and dodged tumbling rocks, he went ever forward to the fray. At some point that the boulders ceased to rain havoc to this group, he was met by the lycan. Here, finally, he was free to fall down onto the ground-- cooled considerably with two ice-powers in effect-- and pant, from exhaustion. Here, Wren let the women care for his wounds in such a daze so as not to understand what was happening. Much thanks passed from him to the woman, as the more serious of wounds were healed enough to allow the man to roam without hamper. The illusionist stood with katana in hand, and watched in horror as beasts of epic proportions and wings, and claws, and jaws, swooped in from above to overtake this scene.
Wren proved that in frays, one must always pay attention to a million things at once-- not even a bug on the ground should go unnoticed. The man's attention on that large beast was what became his death. Not even the lycaness, that poor woman who took the time out of her life to heal his wounds, could save the human in time. Jaws cracked open to reveal rows of teeth, unnatural to any that this man had ever even thought up. He was on the ground writhing, petrified, trying to back-peddle along the cooled ground as the demons neared. They snapped-- maw near face-- and then proceeded to tear asunder the poor being's form. He let out terrified screams and writhed and fought; that hack and slash method of swordery did little in this close proximation of determined beasts, hell-bent on getting his flesh. Fire-proof armour fell away from his form like onion skin, and what was left of Wren quickly torn. Blood pooled from his corpse; his screaming had finished the moment one set of nasty claws ripped open his throat and severed vocal chords. The two demons made shot order of the human. They ate him as if he were a common steak served at Mesthak's. ~~~~ There had been little time to react. A wavering of gratitude mucked by the fear of the beast that loomed so viciously afore them. Before much could be done, he was on the ground, and in pain-- oh, did it course through his veins, wrack his body, and null all thoughts! Protection; he tried so desperately to illusion himself anywhere else, feeling anything else, or better yet... dead. But the pain was too much and all too real, as teeth and nails literally tore the human apart. He was so conscious for most of it. Was there no reprieve? At last it came, when he instinctively knew that his throat had been sliced open as messily as the rest of his body had been. Gutted, Wren was dead. The illusionist felt at that moment, that last, single second of existence in regards to a soul, that he was the happiest he had ever been. Peace took over his form and were he able to twitch the muscles of his face, surely there would be the widest smile to ever take place upon that smooth visage. But most of all: his eyes smiled. In the midst of his death, those eyes no longer held a lackluster, crap-brown appearance. Nay, his eyes shone with vibrance; sparkled with mirth; rattled with sanity. In the last breath to leave his body, Wren looked more alive than he ever had.
Nemisis appears from out a narrow path running against the wall. He travels above the ceiling and balls a fist. As he bends his knees, he focuses more energy upon his feet. With a giant push, he shoots himself downward upon the horde. As he reaches them he releases a giant punch into the ground causing a bunch of monsters to scatter into the air. He then Extends his palm towards the air, unleashing a blast that incinerates the open beasts. Before Nemisis could greet his fellow friends a giant tentacle monster entangles him within its grasp and is spun closer to its mouth. Curses flying out his mouth like bats out of hell, the man grips the sticky limb and rips it apart. He stands there looking at the monstrosity before saying, “You’re one ugly beast.” With a daring feat, he leaps at the beast with his sword at his side. In a quick push of the guard, he unleashes his blade upon the monster, slicing it in half. As Nemisis watches the beast squirm he notices that the two halves begin to grow. As the cancerous cells increase before his eyes, the one tentacle monster becomes two. Running at one of the monsters, he slices at the limbs wildly hoping to cripple at least one beast. To his dismay the beast begins to regenerate as fast he as can cut. To make matters worse the next beast begins its attack; black tendrils lashing out at the demi as he attacks its comrade. Sensing the oncoming attack, the draconian opens up his tail blades and does an acrobatic spin. Within the momentum of his feat he grabs his scythe with one hand and the katana in the other and begins his attack as the tentacles try to engulf him. In mere seconds the limbs become mince meat causing the beasts to howl in pain. As he lands the man places his katana and his scythe across his stomach, both blades facing his opponents. Bending his knees and spacing his feet further apart, his next stance is taken. Just before he launches at them the ground begins to shake sending his mind into disarray. The man decides to ignore the obvious noise as he realizes his present opponents are already regenerating. Once again before he launch he is interrupted by the ground opening up beneath him. Before he knew it, Nemisis was engulfed by the giant crater, trapped within the bowls of a worm.
The demons en mass swarm upon the group of persons, sharp teeth begging to be sunk into warm flesh, to feel the muscle be torn from bone and the coppery taste of blood. Razor like claws swing and swoosh, capable of lopping off any head of a careless person.
Cuki blinks trying to keep focused. The fluid nature of Hell begins to warp chaotically around him. A solid slope to an open ravine to the abyss and finally to it current state as a wide rock platform. Every blink seems to alter the terrain. The edges of reality curve in every direction at once. There only seems to be one constant: The creatures of the pit. Cuki turns his attention purely on them, ignoring his surroundings. Out of pain Wren gives out etches deeply in the Monk. This is quickly getting out of control. With strict determination he calls out a challenge to the fiends, invoking the name of his deity. Greatly angered they turn their attention to the Human. From mouth, beak, tentacle, appendage, and whatever passes as an orifice for these huge shamblers spew flames. The crisping of Hellish flames roars against the very air. His tower shield is all that separates him from death. Its reinforced dragon scales and steel protest against the onslaught, melting the spiked tips it saves him. Not a repeatable act. Even the scales of a great red succumb and melt away into little more than mother's milk. Shoving it aside Cuki brings his Khakkahara up. The copper rings echo loudly in the shifting cavern. From this the demons cringe backwards of the presence of even such a small gift from a High God. Cuki strikes true and cleaves deep into the front most devil. Spear edge sinking in deep. It stains purple with the blood of hell. Disgustingly the flesh tears as the belly is opened wide and intestines spill about Cuki as his clothing burns wildly against his skin. He roars a single order, "Run."
Mahri , covered in bits of flesh and guts, and thoroughly soaked in blood, sits in shock, but not for long as her body contorts and twists. Her nose and mouth begin to jut out, forming the snout of a wolf, ears slide upwards as her skull elongates as well as her spine, dropping the woman to all fours just as black fur begins to sprout all over her body. Hands turned into paws, with deadly claws for slashing, feet as well took on the appearance and quite soon..faster than she ever had before, Mahri was wolf. Her teeth, tinged pink from a lingering bit of crimson vitae and coated with foam, were bared to the demons in a vicious snarl. She had healed..given life, and they had taken it, these demons. The wolf lunged at the beast coming for her, meeting it head on with tooth and claw snapping and tearing at his cursed flesh. Grey eyes flashed with a feral light a her teeth sank into a wing, sawing through bone and tendon. Startled with the head-on approach, the demon dove to the ground, right for it's brethren who had recently made mince meat of Wren. Thirst was strong, the thirst and need for revenge. Now she was all hunter, all wolf and out to make her kill. Drawing up her hind legs, Mahri kicked just as her back was slammed into the other demon, her claws finding luck, and flesh, tearing open it's belly to spill out steaming, fetid guts. Her own survival at stake now, Mahri fights just as she had not too long ago. In fact, if one had the time and looked closely, they just might see three bare spots in parallel lines down her left side. With a yelp of pain and surprise at the suddenly landing, the wolf scrambled out from under the demon, only to find herself faced with more. In fact, it looked to be a bloody legion, and all with that same hungry gleam in their thrice-damned eyes. Keeping low to the ground, the wolf darts among the combatants, weaving her way forward, closer to the hole through which he demons emerged. Taking note of the hole, Mahri settles on her haunches and closes her eyes. Raising some sort of aura, a barrier of sorts, the lycan begins another chant in her head, one with which to pull down the vines again, though these were different than the others. These had flowers, pale, delicate petals that held a deadly secret within. A rather wolfish grin is displayed, tongue lolling out one side as her rips heaved with each panting breath. The vines, a vibrant and un-real green, intertwine, weaving together much like a spider's web, to provide a blockage, a seal against the demons. While the wolf worked, she sensed the presence of another and to the frigid avian, her thoughts find root, ~Build me an Ice wall, around the greenery, but not the flowers~ When anyone that the lycan has not told the flowers is a friend wanders by carelessly, the fuchsia petals would open, the center dominated by a single projectile, a dart filled with toxic venom, deadly to most creatures, and the lycan hopes, poisonous to these as well.
Tene's eyes were like platters when a new kind of demon erupted from below, and Nemisis appeared as though by pure magic from above as the answer to it... or.... not? He was shortly swallowed into the bowels of the worm, while new threats continued to erupt from the cavern's throat. Oboy, had she underestimated the task she'd set her little crew on, and her voice would rise now to echo after that of the heat-frazzled Cuki in a cry to..."RETREAT! Grab what parts you can, and run!" Before the next wave of demons spewed out of their hell-hole, she'd tugged a roll of sacks from her pack, once her spear found a place in the nearest monstrosity, freeing her hand to do so. These were thrown toward any who were not occupied in life-and-death circumstances, or left to fall where they may, and she'd round the cave as though to herd her small troop -- what remained of them -- forward toward the exit. A worried glance back, and she wondered what might prevent the rest of Hell's occupants rising to meet their unwelcome "guests". Portea, too, saw opportunity for further mayhem and focussed his abilities on making a wall, or psionic shield, against the cavern's depths, perhaps buying the others a little time... Portea, wounded, gave the vampiress a sharp look that told her his 'wall' was weakening by the moment. Tene hadn't seen Mahri's change, but the deadly darts of flowers were apparent enough, along with the ice-and-vine construction now shoring up the hellmouth. She only prayed it held, or that someone could further strengthen it, give the party time to gather what they'd come for... or the whole battle, and indeed Wren's tragic demise... would all be for nought. Her eyes, seeking these prizes, landed on the spot where Nemisis 'vanished', and she hesitated, wondering whether she should pull him free, or even -could-.
Saul blinks at the demons that began to snarl and do rather nasty things at him, he looks to himself to find that he is inappropriately dressed for such an occasion and then back up as he watches many of the beasts going to occupy themselves with Cuki and Mahri. Though a few come rushing toward the avian. He gives a little groan as he still is not in any immediate danger. He huffs finally and his breath comes rolling out in a thick fog, the avian then taps his spear against the ground and it begins to freeze, thick and smooth, despite the heat of this place the ice stays but with some obvious strain on the avian. He grins and the creatures finally reach this circle of ice and he taps the ice again. The ice cracks and then giant spikes of jagged thick ice jut out from the floor of frozen ground, each of those creatures impaling themselves on the spikes and writhing in pain, only to soon die off and stay on the ice. The avian prides himself with the kill until a shot of pain hits him, some creature decides to sneak around and take a claw to his back, ripping through the muscles of his wings and tearing off the leather sheath on his back. The avian goes wild, his radiation dropping to a near unbearable cold and his wings frothing madly. He slams the spear into the ground where it sticks and wheels about, quickly grabbing the creatures throat and clamping, to all who could see, a nasty ice burn began to creep up the creatures neck and down his chest, but on the inside the avian was making his throat and airways freeze before sending a point of ice to the brain of the monster. It's eyes roll back and it topples over. He then looks at the wall of shrubbery and fights back the pain of torn muscles as he stretches out a hand his veins showing and an icy haze gathering over his hand, then the ground near the greenery froze thick and solid, a wall of random jagged ice spike rose from the ground, a very unwelcoming sight. Then the sound of 'Run' is heard and he looks to the others to see what he should do next while slicing a few other monsters that stray near or letting them impale themselves on another spike that rose from his icy floor.
Nemisis growls as he realizes he was eaten. This pissed the man off royally. Here, he came to help his friends with a nice little entrance, only to be eaten in a gulp. As he falls down the worm's esophageus, redirects his attack to beast's throat lining in mid air. Unfortunately, his katana barely makes a mark and his scythe only gets stuck. This only caused the draconian's temper to grow. Pulling himself up onto his scythe, he balances himself upon the handle and focuses his energy. Cupping his hands togethers, light emitting from one hand and dark from the other, he combines the opposing forces and opens up a rogue portal. Instantly the worm begins to sucked into the portal from the inside out. From the outward appearance, it looked as if imploded. As Nemisis reappeared in a gucky mess, he was just in time to hear Tenebrae call a retreat. Leaving the side of his rogue attack, he grabs his scythe and begins slash towards people. First he was able to grab Tenebrae, and without hesitation he flings her towards his portal. At the other end was the Vailkrin and whether the woman liked it or not, she was about to be covered with demon guts and parts that continue to be pulled into the portal. Luckily, everyone else wasn't far apart. Taking fully advantage his tail, he scoops Saul and Mahri up and flings them Tenebrae's way as well. Finally he reaches Cuki who is wildly fighting. Without letting him know he was there, Nemisis grabs him by the collar and launches towards the portal. As he watches everyone make their way safely through the portal he notices Wren's mangled body upon the ground. With that trusty tail of his he manages to grab him and exit the portal along with Cuki, escaping the depths of hell.
-- The Hanging Corpse Tavern--
Nemisis appears dropping his passengers off. As he looks at his appearance he mutters, "Well that was fun...." It was apparent he was still annoyed and frankly embarrassed. Dragging his hand through his short hair he says, "I need a bath." He pulls off a finger from between his ears, "Pronto."
Tenebrae landed in a heap of bodies and body parts and rocks and all manner of debris sucked through that portal. Including Portea, who she'd snagged by arm and dragged in there, right along with her. The psion oomphed as he rolled off of her, nursing his wounds, and Tene looked around at the mess, clansmates, helpers, all. "Thanks, Nemisis." Her voice was slightly cracked. "get Steadman to run you a bath, and have a nice room on the house for tonight. I'll sort this mess out." She stopped then, and blinked-- all were present and accounted for... but for Cuki... and his secretary... the hapless Wren and... "Oh no. Peregrine!"
Nemisis smiles and says, "Thanks a bunch." With that he slowly mushes his way towards the staircase. The mess was thicker than mud so the man basically had to stomp his way towards the bathroom. After a few minutes he made it to the stairwell and vanished
( Tene-note: There'll be a post after this from me, wrapping things up but am too tired atm to post it, lol)