Dreamwaking: Chimera - Sacrifice.

[Raveness]

The small woman slowly lets out her held breath once her bare feet feel the putrid fleshy landscape beneath her soles. Her eyes open and she gazes for a moment at the knight before her. His gaze was cold and bit into her pale skin and caused her to tremble, visibly. Thankfully, she had made it alive this far, but now all of her emotions began to whirl as if someone had set them on fast forward.

She thought perhaps he was going to be nice to her, but his eyes, they spoke volumes of what evil he might do to her. He was just another typical man and none of them could ever be trusted. Ever. Isn't that what Cambree's past had taught her? It didn't matter that Cambree was happy now or had given men another chance, Lavender would not be fooled like her older cousin. Would not fall into the grips of a smooth talking man.

They are all monsters, her mind whispered to her. Her feet ached, but even still she staggered behind him as he walked, keeping his back to her. Her mind raced with thoughts and her stomach churned inside of her.

Was he leading her to slaughter, like some poor defenseless lamb? Had he really not brought her here? Had he really not written the note? Not placed the crimson jewel within her body? Was he really not planning on bartering her for something else? Slavery? Worse?

There was only one way to find out... and the thought chilled Lavender to the bone and she shuddered again.

But first.. first... she needed to know his name. "Thank you. Please, what is your name?" She offers no reason for why she needs to know and she's sure she might think of it on her own, in case he doesn't respond. She thinks Cambree had whispered it to her, but what was it?

She would offer him a smile and perhaps she even does, but when he tells her that he thinks her kind is a devil, a succubus, it takes the breath right from her lungs. The tears sting her eyes and she chews on her bottom lip to keep from sobbing. Its the black wings, of course.. they aren't the pillowy white ones of real angels, the pure, the innocent.. Lavender at best, is only a half-breed and as a curse to her father's sinful ways, was born with black feathers of death. Of evil.

She steps closer to him, to bring her body within inches of his own, awaiting his name.

If it's a devil he wants....

[channe]

When you are Agnieszka Kaczmarek, what do you do -- ?

Your lover lies bleeding, attacked by Ariane (you saw it out of the corner of your mind while trying to keep Lentham down; or did you? No. Why would she do such a thing? She's Cinnabar's --)

-- It doesn't matter, she realizes; Ariane and Cinnabar and Rhaena and Aeryn may as well be tied in a foursome. She needs them all to stay alive. She can't tell who's linked to another, and she'll not let any of them die because of it.

And poor damned Seth Bloodmoon --

Lentham’s blackjack hits Agnieszka in the left shoulder, and with a cry her hands let go of Lentham's nightclothes; and Cinnabar is dragging Lentham back, speaking to him, and Agnieszka takes this hit as a godsend to become less entangled, to move back to grab her knife and brandish it – a moment later she's scrambling back, and she’s got to keep Karolinger away from Lentham, she’s just got to, somehow, until something changes –

And something has. Someone has already started to die; Bloodmoon's back spurts like the ground itself, and that death is more than a tragedy, it's the beginning of the end for all of them --

"No! Stop it, you fucker! I killed McCoy! I told him to do it! Stop, for God's sake, just stop, leave him alone!" she cries at Lentham; a lie, a bald-faced lie, of course, but confusion is just as good a weapon as any, and might give Cinnabar the advantage he needs to subdue Lentham so the wounded can be tended to. It might. It might have. It might still.

But that’s just when Aeryn’s leg comes out and snags hers, and she comes crashing down to the ground – straight onto her injured arm.

When you are Agnieszka Kaczmarek, what you do matters not when luck isn't on your side.

[Lent]

It was all a blur. Bloodmoon had been a friend to him in the midst of this hell. Karolinger had thrown the knife right at him, the most cowardly way imaginable to try to harm Lentham, himself. The Constable didn't care a lick for his own life, but to see another die, another taken away from him... another taken by KAROLINGER... that was the only way left in the world for the ragged man to feel real pain.

In the midst of it, he had been assaulted by someone that he held at least a certain regard for. Of course, it was a bit more complicated than that. "Do it right and the people you love die, Calomel." He spat. The ex-Marshall's kick had been the last bit of distraction necessary to allow the Governor to force his subordinate's body away from its intended target. Moreover, the falchion had flown from his hand and was now a good distance away from all three of them. However, instead of going mad from what Aeryn had done, from being denied his vengeance, from Cinnabar's intervention, all of this seemed to calm Lentham down somewhat. His voice was now a whisper. "He just cut down the elf without a second thought. This is Myrken. We do what we have to. Otherwise, it takes away everything it gives."

Here was a pause, a long pause. Cinnabar might realize that in the time that they had been struggling, Lentham had managed to draw the Dagger, words written on it and all. "Reckon I can't cut you down in cold blood just because some note told me it might hurt Karolinger though. Better than *that.* No justice there." Real big difference between an outside possibility of Cinnabar dying mystically with Karolinger and actually stabbing Calomel just to maybe get the bastard.

[Glenn]

Chaos. It was chaos, the very sort that they were trying to avoid with all of their talking, with all of their plans. Agnieszka had been a godsend in some ways. She had been through such things before. She could identify the dagger, if nothing else. It meant that Glenn realized, at least one some level what they were going through, that it WAS what they tried to plan against.

It was all going wrong before his eyes. This Constable had come out of nowhere attacking Karolinger, Karolinger who was attached to CINNABAR. If all else was equal, would he have defended Aeryn to protect Cinnabar? Likely, yes. As it was, the Constable was tied to Seth. As it was, Seth had been attacked because of it. Bloodmoon was his friend. This was all going very wrong.

There was nothing that Glenn could have done. He was away from the combatants. Instead, he had just missed catching, supporting, a flung Rhaena, after having rushed to her side. Ariane had gotten the trader out of the thick of it. Understanding or no, her student was grateful for that.

He went down to his knees beside her prone form, his own dagger out, just in case. There was a calming hand that was placed down towards her shoulder, but before any words could join it, he SAW what happened to Seth. His voice, in that moment, was for the chaos alone. "Seth!"

If Tebrin or Jirai had any doubt who it was they saw in the distance, that shout was very identifiable. He was not up, not at first. Self-preservation would have him pull Agnie from the fray, protect her from her injuries. He did not move towards her. Friendship would have him rush towards Seth, help him. What good would that have done though? He wasn't Alastir. He did not even know basic first aid. And love would keep him with Rhaena, have him shield her with his own body, comfort her with his words.

He did none of these things. Instead, there was a tight, affectionate squeeze of the girl's shoulder. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

Then he darted forward singlemindedly. His hand reached out for that fallen falchion, meaning to grasp its handle, meaning to pull it back with him as he retreated towards Rhaena. He meant to get the sword, meant to grasp the physical symbol of power in this twisted world of daggers and mistrust. Agony Kaczmarek, for one, would have been positively surprised if Glenn Burnie had done anything else.

[Carnath-Emory]

There are immediate concerns here, and Glenn Burnie has eliminated one two of them in one single, magnificent moment: has removed himself from this melee and seen to the preservation of Rhaena Olwak. It is half the weight gone from her mind, all in a single instant. It is half the distraction lifted from her intentions.

Seth is dropping, Seth is hit by something, and she can spare no more time for him than this moment of awareness. He is out of her reach, and there's no sparing him from what's already struck, and she will not divert herself to move towards him now. Dares not.

So there is the simple and complicated and terrible fact of combat instead, and the whole of her may be given over to that. To the heartbeat's span during which her knife's blunt is sweeping hard through empty air, narrowly missing collision with a falchion and with Aeryn's leg and with Aeryn's head, as well. Quick calculation is instinctive in moments like these, and today it tells her that there's no removing Aeryn from this situation: there's no shirt for her to clutch, his shoulders are likely slippery with sweat, there is no chance, and Agnieszka's just hit the ground --

So it's her, instead.

It's a knife dropped to the ground, mercifully distant from Karolinger's reach. It's two hands thrust hard for that girl's shoulders, meaning to grip, meaning to tug, meaning to lift her bodily from the reach of knives and fists and swords, as if Ariane actually had the strength necessary for that.

Here, she does.

And here, she means to methodically separate one combatant from the other, beginning with Rhaena and ending with her ex-student, and incidentally, Agnieszka Kaczmarek ... haven't we been in this situation before? Except that the last time they'd been dying.

Count this for an improvement.

[Jirai]

There is a touch on her shoulder, the presence of the mapmaker more reassuring than anything else in this twisted world could possibly be. Even if he is leaving right away. 'Stay here,' he said. That would be easy to manage. As Glenn darted for the falchion, the scaled girl pushed herself carefully to her feet - and just as carefully made sure that she did not look away from this combat, not at all. She'd seen the knife bury itself in Seth's back, seen her friend Agnieszka hit as well. It's too much for the girl, and as a result she was startlingly lacking in expression. Easier by far to simply watch and not think about what she is seeing. And that is what the girl did. She stood there in dirtied nightgown, arms curled tightly about herself - and she stared.

Ariane would be so proud.

[Jirai]

"Why waste a blade on him? That's been done for me, it looks like."

But Tebrin does bring up a good point. No need to simply attack the first person she saw - she had -choices- here! There was Seth, already wounded. Aeryn, missing a hand. Irritating Calomel, annoying Agnieszka. Some man she did not recognize, a girl. Ariane's pet, the mapmaker.

And Ariane.

She frowned. That made things a bit more difficult. Arm lowered, grip on the knife changing. Throwing it had been a bad idea anyway, she told herself. Instead, the woman stalked silently closer.

[Malaroth]

Ah yes, tears. His eyes lit swiftly upon that poisonous droplet that slithered along the feminine contours of her face. It hardened the grim lines upon his countenance, drawing narrow, straight lines with features that were always on the brink of forgetting how to smile. The creature pressed closer, in her delicate night attire and shrouded in the attempt to evoke pity. With him, pity was a precious commodity – often too precious to be spent, especially for the likes of demons and devils.

That she knew him not irked him greatly, and down-turned the corners of narrow lips. Why would anyone know who he was, he bitterly mused? Why would anyone know who the man was who had stood in the Ashfiend’s fire to buy time for others to strike the hateful creature? Who would know who he was, who had organized and overseen the rebuilding efforts for the Library of Mudd and the Priory of Snowstill?

“I am Malaroth,â€

[Seth_Bloodmoon]

Seth shuts his eyes for a moment, trying to shove the pain and shock of his injury to the back of his mind even as his life's blood soaked his cloak and spilled upon the quivering ground. Another, shakey breath is drawn through gritted teeth as the sounds of combat and chaos reach his pointy tipped ears along with the sound of the mapmaker's voice crying out his name.

Drawing upon reserves of inner strength he pushes himself slowly to his feet, using Twilight Heart as a brace and grounding his teeth further against the burning agony of the blade in his back. It would do no good to pull that blade free, he knew this. Pulling the blade free would only allow death to claim him all too swiftly. Of course this might be a blessing in the minds of some given the situation.

He opens his eyes, brilliant blue depths laced through with pain. He would probably die but he'd be damned if he would just lie down and let darkness claim him. Twilight Heart is raised slightly from the ground, no longer being used as a support and slightly unsteady steps are taken towards Kurt and Cinnabar. The knife was left behind on the ground where he had fallen to his knee. It's pommel had 'Use Me'. The knife could go to hell. Besides he had one embedded in his back if he truly had need for one.

Others were barely noted at the moment as his attention was focused upon the Constable and the Governor as well as the effort to move forward without collapsing. He was trying to access the situation in an effort to determine how he may need to act. It was damned hard given his current state of being. Strength reserves could only hold out for so long and already his steps were growing even more unsteady.

[Vanidor]

Aeryn chuckled once again, his eyes taking in a great deal of the scene that was playing out before them. Lips pressed against one another. "One of us dies, you fucker, then the other do die as well. Paper or no. Also..." He coughed, there was blood here. It laced the spittle that collected upon his lip from the fall. He huffed a breath here, the heavy scent of the smoldering flesh beneath his bare rear was cloying. Sickly sweet.

"Why... would the paper tell us to be moving. To keep moving... I bet... if we do no move..." He laughed again. Coughed once more, and then spat towards the ruined earth. "I wonder what it would be like, to be dying here. Anything could be better than this." He snorted and then coughed once more, again the blood stained his lips. His good hand reached down to pluck up the the sleeve of the garment around his waist, wiping it against his face and lips. Crimson smeared it.

"If we stay still... We die, I think."

Another cough, and the man simply laid back as a slightly insane cackle wracked his lips.

[Cinnabar]

A firm grip, now that he's had the time for it, now that Lentham's calmed, now that his struggles have diminished. Mirrorbright gaze flicks between those gathered around, from Ariane to Agnieszka to Aeryn to Glenn to Rhaena to Seth. Too much chaos, too much violence going too many ways. Things need to be calmed down, at least for the moment.

"Everyone dies eventually. Everyone. So do the right thing while you still live, that's the main thing." Quiet, hurried words for Lentham's ear, watching the others gathered round over the Detective's shoulder as he shifts his weight, steadying his stance. "So do it right. Throwing yourself at him with a blade in hand, that's his way of doing things. You have to-" He pauses at the once-mercenary's words, frowns as the fugitive settles back onto the fleshy ground. Calomel's expression shifts slightly in the moment after, growing colder, more stern. Oh. Oh really. Think you're going to win like that, Karolinger? Think you're getting the last laugh? Think again.

"Do it properly." His hold on the Detective loosens, releasing him and taking a step back, to the side, then stepping closer to the prone man across the revolting filth-smeared hillside. He lifts his voice to speak as he closes in, gaze intent upon the bloodied ex-marshall.

"Aeryn Karolinger, as Governor and Judiciar of Myrken Wood, by your own admission and the word of two witnesses I find you guilty of the murder of Detective Constable Charles McCoy of the Myrkentown Constabulary; a senseless act of brutality for which you have shown neither regret nor remorse." A steady advance upon the laughing outlaw, words clear enough to be heard by those gathered around.

"For this crime against the laws of the Myrken Wood territory of the Kingdom of Trae Kelsa your own life shall be forfeit, in accordance with those same laws." Finally he looks away, glancing briefly towards Lentham and holding out his hand.

"Constable. Your belt, please." Silvered gaze returns to meet Aeryn's own, the Governor's features an impassive mask. Quieter words then, voice lowered for the mercenary's ears.

"Consider this a rehearsal."

[Tebrin]

Tebrin was torn. Who all was there? Seth was forfeit. Glenn had proven to be as close a friend as the treasure hunter had found in years, Braunwyn notwithstanding. He couldn't TALK to Braunwyn. Well, he could - she WANTED him too... but the emotional baggage made it far too complicated. So who else to throw to the Drow?

Rhaena? No. Glenn's preoccupation with her made her an unacceptable target. And Tebrin actually kind of liked the swordswoman - not that Glenn thought any LESS highly of her. Agnieszka was always entertaining, and the rogue enjoyed her company. Cinnabar was the governor, and, like Helstone, that made him worth helping in Tebrin's eyes. That left the warring Aeryn, whom he'd met but twice, and though he seemed a decent enough fellow, certainly Tebrin would lose no sleep over his demise... and Lentham.

Pulling up to Jirai's side, he casually points them out. "They look like fighters. Be' you'd 'ave a blast offin' one o' them. Jes' enough challenge t'be fun, y'know?"

[channe]

... that was not what she meant.

By this point, she's pulling herself up, clutching at her left arm -- dangling, painful, but not broken. Thankfully, not broken. She looks at Glenn, first, alarm in her eyes, and then Aeryn -- and then Cinnabar, who is speaking such things. "That's not my word as a witness; I was lying to calm him the hell down." She points at Lentham. "An' we're not in fucking Myrken Wood right now, in case you haven't noticed, so let's go, playing games with this Katschei wi' my life in the balance makes me sick; we're doing exactly what he wants by standing here, so let's pick 'im up --" Ah! Agnieszka still doesn't know Bloodmoon's name -- "an' start walking, please! Don' you feel it?"

She's clutching at the jewel in her throat; and then, with a movement, she snaps at Cinnabar. "I been keepin' my word t' ye, Cinnabar, I 'ave, but I can't let you kill 'im, ever -- Glenn, pick up the elf, we've got t' *go* --"

And with that, she reaches down with her right arm, loops it around the mercenary's good shoulder, and attempts to *haul* him bodily away. Just to move a little, just a little, to test how the jewel's heat fades as they do... "We need bandages. Tourniquets. Not words. Not now."

((OOC: I have been reminded that I can't just change posts once others have responded, even if they're horribly wrong. This is horribly wrong. Oh, well, so is Agnie's perception of what the heck is going on at this point in time.))

[Carnath-Emory]

Which is to say that her lunge towards young Agnieszka had missed. Isn't that a fine education on how a scuffle will bring even the improbable to life?

Her mobile gaze discovers two things quite quickly: that Rhaea is held safe beneath Glenn Burnie's care, and that Calomel intends something ghastly, something audacious.

A moment's spent upon considering that. If he were to die in this dream-state -- and that is almost assured -- she has reasons to prefer it be by means other than murder. Still...

Ah, it's to Seth Bloodmoon that she moves then, he with the knife protruding grotesquely from his back.

[Raveness]

Wiping the tears from her face, she was appalled by the man before her. There was no point of staying with him, he didn't care about her at all and never would. He hated her more now than he had before, which she could barely fathom. It hurt.

"It's Lavender." She spoke to him, for a moment, in case he didn't hear her when she'd spoken it before. But it would be her last words to him for now.. forever, she hoped.

Her green eyes glanced towards the dagger that his hands touched once more and she understood she would never be able to take it from him. There would have to be another way. He could quickly overpower her at this distance, if she struggled to take it from him. No, there would have to be another way.

Then something caught the corner of her eye and she turned her head. Yes, people, in the distance. Her feet carried her away from her abductor and toward the voices, whether he followed or not, she really didn't care at this point. She would have welcomed the painful death just to be away from him.

As she grew closer, she recognized some from the tea house, but only knew of the governor. But where he was.... there was usually Cambree. However, there was chaos, amoungst the feuding people. Still, Lavender moved into the middle of it.

If Malaroth really hadn't written the piece of paper, then he wouldn't want her to die, right? It seemed logical to the woman, who was considering not being very logical at all. If she put herself in harm's way, he would have to save her, would he not? If indeed the paper was true... or he had a death wish, but she didn't think so. If he had, he would have killed her already.

First, she would need a dagger and since Seth's was there on the ground, with no one nearby to stop her, that was where she was heading. Determined to let nothing stop her until it was in her hand.