"I don't want to think abou' that," Quincy muttered both to Acteon and the nearing Altias; she shrewdly observed the main hall beyond her companions, staying put while Altias made his way for the exit. Ariane and Cinnabar were down there somewhere. Her whisper to the huntsman was soft and harsh. "You're right. I reckon it turned ou' better than it could 'ave."
She could smell the other tunnel choked with flame smoke, and although they stood there and waited, she began to feel a greater sense of urgency.
"What's takin' so long? I 'ope they're all right," she tightened her small, gloved fist at her side.
A Winter Night
by channe » Tue Apr 17, 2007 2:06 am
The girls are most certainly in tow; Agnieszka would be taking up rear guard, the bloody dagger still in her right hand, her brows knit with something of anger and frustration. She'd not go far from Rhaena.
And here, as she arrives, she'll stalk straight up to Quincy, smelling for all the world like a bonfire, her eyes smoldering just as much, and says, whispering purposefully: "This. Was. So. Stupid." It's not an accusation; more of an -- angry observation. No details are followed; she simply assumes that Quincy, a seasoned fighter, will have also figured out the details of this mutual stupidity.
She turns just as quickly to see how Rhaena is doing.
And here, as she arrives, she'll stalk straight up to Quincy, smelling for all the world like a bonfire, her eyes smoldering just as much, and says, whispering purposefully: "This. Was. So. Stupid." It's not an accusation; more of an -- angry observation. No details are followed; she simply assumes that Quincy, a seasoned fighter, will have also figured out the details of this mutual stupidity.
She turns just as quickly to see how Rhaena is doing.
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by Carnath-Emory » Tue Apr 17, 2007 2:25 am
When he emerges from that cell, Magnus is greeted with all the suspicion that his robes warrant. Magnus, and in particular the quality of the smile which he's turned towards his fellow, Sventon. But she has a soldier's sense for priorities, and this moment is saved, for a time when she has the leisure to think on it. For now, there are far more immediate concerns.
Such as fire, for one.
Such as billowing smoke, and the promise of more to come, so that she is urging Cinnabar and his charges down that corridor, towards where the rest of their small company awaits. This is how it will be: the cultists flanked, by a sword-wielding body forward of them, and one aft. It permits little chance for freedom, for treachery -- and as they near Quincy, Bromn, Acteon, the woman is lifting her weapon very slightly, as if in warning to the men that they escort. And very much in demonstration to the group they approach.
These cultists are overpowered, the gesture assures.
These are presently no threat, it insists.
There shall be no repeats of the attack upon Athena, not this time.
Such as fire, for one.
Such as billowing smoke, and the promise of more to come, so that she is urging Cinnabar and his charges down that corridor, towards where the rest of their small company awaits. This is how it will be: the cultists flanked, by a sword-wielding body forward of them, and one aft. It permits little chance for freedom, for treachery -- and as they near Quincy, Bromn, Acteon, the woman is lifting her weapon very slightly, as if in warning to the men that they escort. And very much in demonstration to the group they approach.
These cultists are overpowered, the gesture assures.
These are presently no threat, it insists.
There shall be no repeats of the attack upon Athena, not this time.
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by Vanidor » Tue Apr 17, 2007 12:13 pm
Jons had used the pause to gather his breath and his wits. Or, rather, to replan the orders he had recieved. Especially now that Ariane and the fellow with her were arriving with two cultists in tow. A moment here. Jons observed the two men and lowered his hand experimentally towards his flanged mace. Two fingers coiled 'round the throat of it, then the rest as it was gently raised from the leather hanger at his waist. He paused. And considered the moments before he had left the Barracks earlier this evening. Considered the orders even as he stilled the hand that gripped the mace and then slipped free his long-bladed dirk. There were two of them, and he wasn't sure if he could swing his mace fast enough to hit them both. Well, no, he could. Just not with enough force to kill both.
"Jons. I want you to make sure that NO ONE who is in those cavern's when you arrive makes it out of there when you leave. If you have to make it seem like they attacked you, or had wronged you in the past, or whatever other madness it is that you do when you worked for Kerrak, then do it. No one. None of that filth needs to survive Rautha's purging of the cavern complex by oil and fire. Do you understand me?" Aeryn had stepped forwards from the shadows as he said it, his uniform dirty and a bit of blood staining a portion of his sleeve. He looked intense as he gave the command, angry about something. Jons contemplated questioning the Captain about it, but then simply smiled and nodded his head. "You want everything inside the place to die a nasty, nasty death, eh? I find this a pleasing scenario..."
So. Here Jons was, to the side and mostly rear of Ariane and Cinnabar, as well as their two captives. Here he was, partially gasping for breath due to smoke-damaged lungs and the searing heat of the flames within. Agnieszka was still behind him, as was Rhaena. Altias had moved on, and had talked with the tracker who had shown interest in Jons' methods earlier. A small laugh, mostly to himself, and a partial turn to smile at Agnieszka. Then.
He would lunge, and do it wordlessly. That was not to say that his motion was made without sound, for there was surely the gentle rustle of the chainmail muffled by his heavy coat. The slight creak of the leather belt that wound its way about his waist. Of course, there would have been the slight scuff of his boot propelling him fowards. And the second slap of the other foot coming down upon the stonework. He would lunge. Lunge and aim a deadly throw of his knife for the middle of Magnus' back. He had a perfect view for it, to tell the truth. Just don't move Magnus, for Jons hated to miss twice in one night with a thrown dagger. And then he'd have to liquify your head with his mace.
As for Sventon. Sventon was a bit further away from him than Magnus would have been. So that meant another slap of his foot against the rocky floor of the cavern. Sventon. This was more notice than most folks got when Jons was aiming to kill you. But here he was, next, with his mace up in the air and ready... oh so ready to make a slurry of bloody matter out of the back of Sventon's head...
"Jons. I want you to make sure that NO ONE who is in those cavern's when you arrive makes it out of there when you leave. If you have to make it seem like they attacked you, or had wronged you in the past, or whatever other madness it is that you do when you worked for Kerrak, then do it. No one. None of that filth needs to survive Rautha's purging of the cavern complex by oil and fire. Do you understand me?" Aeryn had stepped forwards from the shadows as he said it, his uniform dirty and a bit of blood staining a portion of his sleeve. He looked intense as he gave the command, angry about something. Jons contemplated questioning the Captain about it, but then simply smiled and nodded his head. "You want everything inside the place to die a nasty, nasty death, eh? I find this a pleasing scenario..."
So. Here Jons was, to the side and mostly rear of Ariane and Cinnabar, as well as their two captives. Here he was, partially gasping for breath due to smoke-damaged lungs and the searing heat of the flames within. Agnieszka was still behind him, as was Rhaena. Altias had moved on, and had talked with the tracker who had shown interest in Jons' methods earlier. A small laugh, mostly to himself, and a partial turn to smile at Agnieszka. Then.
He would lunge, and do it wordlessly. That was not to say that his motion was made without sound, for there was surely the gentle rustle of the chainmail muffled by his heavy coat. The slight creak of the leather belt that wound its way about his waist. Of course, there would have been the slight scuff of his boot propelling him fowards. And the second slap of the other foot coming down upon the stonework. He would lunge. Lunge and aim a deadly throw of his knife for the middle of Magnus' back. He had a perfect view for it, to tell the truth. Just don't move Magnus, for Jons hated to miss twice in one night with a thrown dagger. And then he'd have to liquify your head with his mace.
As for Sventon. Sventon was a bit further away from him than Magnus would have been. So that meant another slap of his foot against the rocky floor of the cavern. Sventon. This was more notice than most folks got when Jons was aiming to kill you. But here he was, next, with his mace up in the air and ready... oh so ready to make a slurry of bloody matter out of the back of Sventon's head...
One should always be drunk. That's all that matters... But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk. - Charles Baudelaire
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by Acteon » Thu Apr 19, 2007 9:23 pm
There are many fundamental differences between predators and prey. Some predators rely on stealth, others on speed, and so on. Prey, themselves, have differences which protect them against their predators' skills--more acute hearing or smell, or perhaps agility that allows them to out-maneuver the faster hunter. So, predator has a unique set of skills that increases its chances of killing and, similarly, each quarry has adapted their natural defenses to offset those of their enemy.
However, there is one thing that is the same for all hunters and, again, one thing that is the same for all hunted. For the hunter it is the build up. It is the summoning of strength in preparation of a strike, like a cat preparing to pounce, so that the attack can be explosive, swift, unexpected, and deadly. For the quarry it is the moment of surprise before flight. It is consistent that, in this moment of alarm, the body becomes rigid, if only for a fraction of a moment, as it prepares to flee, and then immediately and unconsciously it takes evasive action.
Acteon is a hunter and a student of animal behavior. It is this experience, instinct, and training that allow him to almost feel and predict both Jons’ attack and the subsequent reaction from the captives. After all, it was communicated clearly, though non-verbally, in bodily cues--the former with his build-up, the latter with their moment of frozen surprise. Of course, it is all communicated in the blink of an eye and while Acteon could react swiftly, if his instinct commanded him to do so, it would be unlikely that he could save both, if any, of the targets given the distance.
But Acteon’s instincts do not kick in. Not now. He does not know these men. And though he’d like to question them and find out what they know or will share about the Baie, the cult, and what transpires in these caves, the hunter does not react. Far too much has gone wrong today. And all he wanted was for the group to put distance between themselves and this chamber of death and its burning reminders of religious zeal.
Let the man kill them or not, but let it be over swiftly, for dawn had broken outside and daylight likely meant a shift change for the guards that had so poorly defended this place and Acteon preferred being a hunter, rather than prey being smoked from a burrow into a hunter's trap.
However, there is one thing that is the same for all hunters and, again, one thing that is the same for all hunted. For the hunter it is the build up. It is the summoning of strength in preparation of a strike, like a cat preparing to pounce, so that the attack can be explosive, swift, unexpected, and deadly. For the quarry it is the moment of surprise before flight. It is consistent that, in this moment of alarm, the body becomes rigid, if only for a fraction of a moment, as it prepares to flee, and then immediately and unconsciously it takes evasive action.
Acteon is a hunter and a student of animal behavior. It is this experience, instinct, and training that allow him to almost feel and predict both Jons’ attack and the subsequent reaction from the captives. After all, it was communicated clearly, though non-verbally, in bodily cues--the former with his build-up, the latter with their moment of frozen surprise. Of course, it is all communicated in the blink of an eye and while Acteon could react swiftly, if his instinct commanded him to do so, it would be unlikely that he could save both, if any, of the targets given the distance.
But Acteon’s instincts do not kick in. Not now. He does not know these men. And though he’d like to question them and find out what they know or will share about the Baie, the cult, and what transpires in these caves, the hunter does not react. Far too much has gone wrong today. And all he wanted was for the group to put distance between themselves and this chamber of death and its burning reminders of religious zeal.
Let the man kill them or not, but let it be over swiftly, for dawn had broken outside and daylight likely meant a shift change for the guards that had so poorly defended this place and Acteon preferred being a hunter, rather than prey being smoked from a burrow into a hunter's trap.
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by Cinnabar » Fri Apr 20, 2007 12:46 am
Perhaps it is the scuff of sudden motion, a movement of the air itself as Jons lunges forwards, or a glimpse of the man moving swiftly with bared steel, caught from the tail of his eye as he glances back at his captives. Whatever it is has Cinnabar's head snapping round towards the Lieutenant, grey eyes widening for an instant before narrowing to mirror-glittering slits. And then he moves, turning about to step between his captives.
He moves like wind-whipped smoke, like the pattern of cats' paws flicking across water on a gusty day, fluid and elegant and fast. Graceful, but also somehow wrong. His hands move to touch each of the cultists on a shoulder and push with enough force to send them sprawling, for all that there is as little apparent effort as a man opening a set of curtains. Out of his way, and more vitally out of Jons' way.
"No."
He steps forward, heedless of the captives' condition for the moment, interposing himself between them and the soldier. He stands unarmed, but every sinew poised for action should Jons provoke it. Cold fury seeths in his tone and in his features.
"In the Governor's name, I want them alive."
He moves like wind-whipped smoke, like the pattern of cats' paws flicking across water on a gusty day, fluid and elegant and fast. Graceful, but also somehow wrong. His hands move to touch each of the cultists on a shoulder and push with enough force to send them sprawling, for all that there is as little apparent effort as a man opening a set of curtains. Out of his way, and more vitally out of Jons' way.
"No."
He steps forward, heedless of the captives' condition for the moment, interposing himself between them and the soldier. He stands unarmed, but every sinew poised for action should Jons provoke it. Cold fury seeths in his tone and in his features.
"In the Governor's name, I want them alive."
Omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis.
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by Carnath-Emory » Fri Apr 20, 2007 2:45 am
They had continued like that for a time, this small group: had drawn slowly together, that being the natural instinct of humans walking in so loose a formation. The wisdom of this will prove itself very soon -- or not -- but in the immediate moment, Ariane has found herself perfectly positioned to witness such things as these:
The slight breathlessness of Jons Feul, who follows rear of them.
The ash-and-charcoal passage of Agnieszka, as she blisters angrily past.
The tang of blood and flames and bitter sweat.
The heightened music of leather and boot-sole, the silvery hiss of fine chainmail, as Jons moves with intent --
But that very small laugh first of all, most importantly of all, for that sound is not at all unfamiliar. She is turning on hearing it, gazing past Cinnabar, who's done the same (and isn't that interesting), with timing enough to see that knife fly for Magnus' back like a maiden's cold kiss.
It is all that she needs to see. Magnus is conceded lost even before the knife truly nears him: she will sacrifice that man to Feul's brutality, if he cannot save himself from it. Sventon is another matter, however: Sventon has aquired some slight meaning, and is nearer besides, so that when Cinnabar shoves the clear of Jons, she is moving to catch him. Very briefly, of course, and with a hand so sternly gauntleted that he might wish for daggers instead, but it's the back of that head that she's reaching for, and it's the cavern wall that she's driving him against, cheek to granite and eyes....
Well. Eyes mercifully closed to the sight of what's about to befall Magnus, if he has any sense.
The slight breathlessness of Jons Feul, who follows rear of them.
The ash-and-charcoal passage of Agnieszka, as she blisters angrily past.
The tang of blood and flames and bitter sweat.
The heightened music of leather and boot-sole, the silvery hiss of fine chainmail, as Jons moves with intent --
But that very small laugh first of all, most importantly of all, for that sound is not at all unfamiliar. She is turning on hearing it, gazing past Cinnabar, who's done the same (and isn't that interesting), with timing enough to see that knife fly for Magnus' back like a maiden's cold kiss.
It is all that she needs to see. Magnus is conceded lost even before the knife truly nears him: she will sacrifice that man to Feul's brutality, if he cannot save himself from it. Sventon is another matter, however: Sventon has aquired some slight meaning, and is nearer besides, so that when Cinnabar shoves the clear of Jons, she is moving to catch him. Very briefly, of course, and with a hand so sternly gauntleted that he might wish for daggers instead, but it's the back of that head that she's reaching for, and it's the cavern wall that she's driving him against, cheek to granite and eyes....
Well. Eyes mercifully closed to the sight of what's about to befall Magnus, if he has any sense.
I am motion made into a human
I am stardust on stardust on stardust on stardust
I am stardust on stardust on stardust on stardust
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by Vanidor » Mon Apr 23, 2007 10:46 am
"The Governor can go fuck 'imself with a Pike, if you ask me. And I could care less if you do wish these beasts of men alive. My orders are to make sure nothin' gets out of here that were in here before I stepped in."
And here. Do you see it Cinnabar. Ariane. Rhaena. The thick and almost viscous trail of oil, slowly trailing it's way down from the cavern mouth and the tunnel that lead it's way into the place. Jons paused, he spared no glance for Magnus. If them man took the knife and was bleeding out, then so be it. If it was a glancing wound... and he was bleeding out, all the better. Jons would have preferred to yank the man's eyes out to see how -he- felt about all that rot.
Jons tapped his foot into the slick and smiled slightly. "Fine. If you wish to keep this bastard alive, so be it. It be on your head when the maggot tries to pluck out your eyes sos he can feed them to his Eunch of a godling." Magnus, if he was close enough, would get a very brutal kick to the... whatever. If it was in reach, and the man was still enough, Jons would kick there. Truthfull, he would aim for the groin. But that's because Jons was a prick.
"When I get to the mouth, I will be ordering Rautha to toss in the torches to ignite the oil. An' then we'll be sealin' the cavern mouth with heavy leather tarps an' rocks. By now the other entrance should be much the same. So take your cock-up of a pet an' take him out. I won' care what happens to aught else who be in here after I do be out."
There. The most you would probably get out of Lieutenant Jons Feul. He didn't care who you are, for he would most happily sacrifice all here to make certain the caverns were unusable to the cult again. A derisive snort for Cinnabar, and... oddly for Ariane (for she had forestalled him, and therefore had balked Aeryn) and he would stride for the exit, almost playfully splashing the trickle of oil in his passage.
And here. Do you see it Cinnabar. Ariane. Rhaena. The thick and almost viscous trail of oil, slowly trailing it's way down from the cavern mouth and the tunnel that lead it's way into the place. Jons paused, he spared no glance for Magnus. If them man took the knife and was bleeding out, then so be it. If it was a glancing wound... and he was bleeding out, all the better. Jons would have preferred to yank the man's eyes out to see how -he- felt about all that rot.
Jons tapped his foot into the slick and smiled slightly. "Fine. If you wish to keep this bastard alive, so be it. It be on your head when the maggot tries to pluck out your eyes sos he can feed them to his Eunch of a godling." Magnus, if he was close enough, would get a very brutal kick to the... whatever. If it was in reach, and the man was still enough, Jons would kick there. Truthfull, he would aim for the groin. But that's because Jons was a prick.
"When I get to the mouth, I will be ordering Rautha to toss in the torches to ignite the oil. An' then we'll be sealin' the cavern mouth with heavy leather tarps an' rocks. By now the other entrance should be much the same. So take your cock-up of a pet an' take him out. I won' care what happens to aught else who be in here after I do be out."
There. The most you would probably get out of Lieutenant Jons Feul. He didn't care who you are, for he would most happily sacrifice all here to make certain the caverns were unusable to the cult again. A derisive snort for Cinnabar, and... oddly for Ariane (for she had forestalled him, and therefore had balked Aeryn) and he would stride for the exit, almost playfully splashing the trickle of oil in his passage.
One should always be drunk. That's all that matters... But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk. - Charles Baudelaire
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by channe » Mon Apr 23, 2007 11:03 am
Despite her less-than-salubrious vocabulary, despite what her upbringing may say about her, despite her deportment -- Agnieszka Kaczmarek is not a stupid girl. It takes her a split-second to figure out exactly what will happen to the people inside the cave, exactly who ordered him to do it, and the fact that 'we' necessarily implicates her by virtue of her commission.
A look to Acteon; to Quincy, and Rhaena, and finally, Ariane, who, of all people, may understand what Jons plans to do. It is one thing to kill someone in combat, to, through one's effort, connect steel to flesh; it is another thing to burn people alive and trap them inside to suffocate if the flames don't find them first.
She feels the vague urge to throw up. Notice the green tint at her face; the hand at her mouth; and, suddenly it's out, said --
"... but these are all *people*," she says -- and the hand is back at her mouth.
A look to Acteon; to Quincy, and Rhaena, and finally, Ariane, who, of all people, may understand what Jons plans to do. It is one thing to kill someone in combat, to, through one's effort, connect steel to flesh; it is another thing to burn people alive and trap them inside to suffocate if the flames don't find them first.
She feels the vague urge to throw up. Notice the green tint at her face; the hand at her mouth; and, suddenly it's out, said --
"... but these are all *people*," she says -- and the hand is back at her mouth.
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by Cinnabar » Mon Apr 23, 2007 8:31 pm
"And who saw fit to issue those orders?" Who, his tone might ask, has seen fit to appoint themselves judge, jury and executioner?
A tense moment, and then he straightens as Jons relents with such splendidly bad grace. A thin smile of his own, and a nod.
"I've been warned of the risks, thank you. I take full responsibility." A disapproving look as the Lieutenant lashes out at Magnus, but no more than that for now. He waits until the man is heading for the exit before he nods to Ariane, still holding Sventon pinned against the wall, and moves to check on Magnus.
To Agnieszca, as he examines the fallen prisoner:
"It would appear that people have orders. Unless you want to try and persuade any remaining cultists to come peaceably while our friends light their fires, I'd say there's little to be done." He glances towards the tunnel from which increasing amounts of choking smoke billows. "It may well be over already, in any case." He does not seem overjoyed at the idea. Quite the reverse. Indeed, that the cultists are to be roasted alive in their burrow along with any useful evidence held therein pleases him not at all. He hauls Magnus to his feet, if he'll stand. At least it's not a total loss.
"For an investigative mission, there's been precious little actual investigation."
A tense moment, and then he straightens as Jons relents with such splendidly bad grace. A thin smile of his own, and a nod.
"I've been warned of the risks, thank you. I take full responsibility." A disapproving look as the Lieutenant lashes out at Magnus, but no more than that for now. He waits until the man is heading for the exit before he nods to Ariane, still holding Sventon pinned against the wall, and moves to check on Magnus.
To Agnieszca, as he examines the fallen prisoner:
"It would appear that people have orders. Unless you want to try and persuade any remaining cultists to come peaceably while our friends light their fires, I'd say there's little to be done." He glances towards the tunnel from which increasing amounts of choking smoke billows. "It may well be over already, in any case." He does not seem overjoyed at the idea. Quite the reverse. Indeed, that the cultists are to be roasted alive in their burrow along with any useful evidence held therein pleases him not at all. He hauls Magnus to his feet, if he'll stand. At least it's not a total loss.
"For an investigative mission, there's been precious little actual investigation."
Omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis.
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by Altias_Bromn » Tue Apr 24, 2007 12:53 am
Through it all, Altias had spared not a glance for the cultists. He simply continued making his way toward the exit. For all he cared they could have all been within, every person who had sworn their loyalty to the False God and his damaged keepers, they could all burn in Jons' fire.
"We go now. Stay behind if you wish, but I will not stay the hand of Rautha. Those who remain shall burn in the fires, as Kerrak always wished. Were Dhrin himself present, I would return only to get Kerrak his damned fruit bowl."
Cold. There was no love for any of those loyal to the Order. There was neither hatred. There was...apathy. Let them burn...these Believers who might hide within, it made no difference to him.
There might come a time, days from now, when Altias would question Cinnabar's desire to keep these scum alive. Now, he simply did not care. Stay, go, live, die...make a choice, and be done with it.
"There is nothing more to investigate. They are gone. Moved on from this place. These ignorant fools were left here to try and destroy anyone who came looking. And one...was left here to die. If we had any sense at all, we would have left him to his fate."
These words directed toward Cinnabar, yet the once-governor did not slow his pace toward the tunnel mouth. And finally to Agnie.
"Get used to it. Death comes for us all. Be it an enemy, or Father Time, we are all born to die. These creatures sealed their fate when they gave their faith to one who would so easily steal the lives of others. Do you think they shed a single tear for any of your friends and neighbors who died at the hands of this...Order? Believe this...they did not. They Reveled in the deaths that they Believed served their God, and now...they pay the price. Let them roast."
A man slightly less alive than when he entered this place, moves then into the shadowed mouth of the tunnel.
"We go now. Stay behind if you wish, but I will not stay the hand of Rautha. Those who remain shall burn in the fires, as Kerrak always wished. Were Dhrin himself present, I would return only to get Kerrak his damned fruit bowl."
Cold. There was no love for any of those loyal to the Order. There was neither hatred. There was...apathy. Let them burn...these Believers who might hide within, it made no difference to him.
There might come a time, days from now, when Altias would question Cinnabar's desire to keep these scum alive. Now, he simply did not care. Stay, go, live, die...make a choice, and be done with it.
"There is nothing more to investigate. They are gone. Moved on from this place. These ignorant fools were left here to try and destroy anyone who came looking. And one...was left here to die. If we had any sense at all, we would have left him to his fate."
These words directed toward Cinnabar, yet the once-governor did not slow his pace toward the tunnel mouth. And finally to Agnie.
"Get used to it. Death comes for us all. Be it an enemy, or Father Time, we are all born to die. These creatures sealed their fate when they gave their faith to one who would so easily steal the lives of others. Do you think they shed a single tear for any of your friends and neighbors who died at the hands of this...Order? Believe this...they did not. They Reveled in the deaths that they Believed served their God, and now...they pay the price. Let them roast."
A man slightly less alive than when he entered this place, moves then into the shadowed mouth of the tunnel.
Wrong, in all the right ways
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by Vanidor » Wed Apr 25, 2007 11:14 am
He was outside, and the pall of smoke he had been breathing was less here. The breeze was welcoming to the Lieutenant, as was the ruddy glow of torches born by men of the Brotherhood. At least, the man thought, he was certain that none of -these- men were traitors. They were as willing to go all the way as Jons and Rautha were. As Aeryn was starting to be. Another breath. Jons would wait a span of three minutes after stepping out before turning to the Sergeant.
"When the last of our company steps free, open the naptha casks and take them into the cavern. Break open the last of the oil we 'borrowed' from Orvere, and then use the rock-nails to seal the tarp of leather o'er the entrance. Sister Agnieszka will help you stand guard to make certain that none try to escape after we are gone from here." Jons would take a moment to glance at the younger woman, with eyes like burning coals set into sockets. He smiled slightly.
"If aught tries to come out afterwards, fill them full of quarrels. I want nothing to escape this pit. Have the men at the other entrance use the mattocks to close it. Wait an hour after the naptha casks blow, and then do the same to this entrance. Then wait. If anything comes out of that complex... Eliminate them. Do you understand?"
There was a hard look from the Master of Scouts. An eyebrow raised by a man bearing a torch to the left. Then a slight smile. Sergeant Rautha understood well, for he, like Jons, had been at the Priory of Snowstill when the great wheat-fields had been set alight and the Priory itself charred by flame. The compact man nodded his head, it was a wordless agreement with the Lieutenant.
Then, as Jons moved to the perimiter of the clearing, the Scout turned to glance at Agnieszka. "Time to earn them shillings, m'gal. We'll be here 'till the sun rises at least." And here, then, the man would go about his work... Signalling two of the scouts to start carrying the volatile casks into the cavern...
"When the last of our company steps free, open the naptha casks and take them into the cavern. Break open the last of the oil we 'borrowed' from Orvere, and then use the rock-nails to seal the tarp of leather o'er the entrance. Sister Agnieszka will help you stand guard to make certain that none try to escape after we are gone from here." Jons would take a moment to glance at the younger woman, with eyes like burning coals set into sockets. He smiled slightly.
"If aught tries to come out afterwards, fill them full of quarrels. I want nothing to escape this pit. Have the men at the other entrance use the mattocks to close it. Wait an hour after the naptha casks blow, and then do the same to this entrance. Then wait. If anything comes out of that complex... Eliminate them. Do you understand?"
There was a hard look from the Master of Scouts. An eyebrow raised by a man bearing a torch to the left. Then a slight smile. Sergeant Rautha understood well, for he, like Jons, had been at the Priory of Snowstill when the great wheat-fields had been set alight and the Priory itself charred by flame. The compact man nodded his head, it was a wordless agreement with the Lieutenant.
Then, as Jons moved to the perimiter of the clearing, the Scout turned to glance at Agnieszka. "Time to earn them shillings, m'gal. We'll be here 'till the sun rises at least." And here, then, the man would go about his work... Signalling two of the scouts to start carrying the volatile casks into the cavern...
One should always be drunk. That's all that matters... But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk. - Charles Baudelaire
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Vanidor - Member
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by channe » Thu Apr 26, 2007 12:02 am
Sister Agnieszka will help you stand guard.
Sister Agnieszka will wait until you are heading to the perimeter, Jons, before she has her private joke, rolling her eyes, and just the hint of a chided child -- and then, recovering just as quickly, she turns to Cinnabar.
"There are luverly rooms a' the Gaol, you can take 'em there." And then, she looks back to the choking smoke, the scouts bringing the oil-cases inside -- and back at the Constable. And, all of a sudden, her eyes are harder, too. "Those folks inside there ain't to be pitied. You know what they do? They stick kids on a slab, tie 'em down, and tear their eyes out, all bloody an' shit, before killin' 'em rather painful-like, and all around 'em there are people screamin' for their blood. It's vomitous. On the way home, the Guv here can tell ya all about it."
She takes this moment to indicate Altias Bromn by jabbing her thumb in his direction.
"Naw, Guv. They were screamin' for it, like kids at a circus." Now she's talking herself into this. It's obvious. And then, to the grouping of Acteon, Ariane, Quincy and the others -- "Rhaena, go with 'em, I'll meet up with you later."
And with that, she goes to help out, silently now, with a face full of grumbling.
Welcome to Myrken Wood, Cinnabar Calomel.
Sister Agnieszka will wait until you are heading to the perimeter, Jons, before she has her private joke, rolling her eyes, and just the hint of a chided child -- and then, recovering just as quickly, she turns to Cinnabar.
"There are luverly rooms a' the Gaol, you can take 'em there." And then, she looks back to the choking smoke, the scouts bringing the oil-cases inside -- and back at the Constable. And, all of a sudden, her eyes are harder, too. "Those folks inside there ain't to be pitied. You know what they do? They stick kids on a slab, tie 'em down, and tear their eyes out, all bloody an' shit, before killin' 'em rather painful-like, and all around 'em there are people screamin' for their blood. It's vomitous. On the way home, the Guv here can tell ya all about it."
She takes this moment to indicate Altias Bromn by jabbing her thumb in his direction.
"Naw, Guv. They were screamin' for it, like kids at a circus." Now she's talking herself into this. It's obvious. And then, to the grouping of Acteon, Ariane, Quincy and the others -- "Rhaena, go with 'em, I'll meet up with you later."
And with that, she goes to help out, silently now, with a face full of grumbling.
Welcome to Myrken Wood, Cinnabar Calomel.
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channe - Member
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- Location: the city of magical thinking.
by Cinnabar » Thu Apr 26, 2007 12:17 am
"So I have heard." A mild answer to Agnie's tales of murder and bloodshed, as if informed that the day is likely to take a turn for rain. He carefully checks the prisoners' bonds, and nods in satisfaction. Secure enough.
"I fear the Gaol is too obvious a place - too ripe for their fellows to free them, or assassinate them to still their tongues. I have somewhere more discreet in mind." A thin smile, hardly reassuring at all, before he pats Sventon companionably on the shoulder. "Safer too, be certain of that."
"I fear the Gaol is too obvious a place - too ripe for their fellows to free them, or assassinate them to still their tongues. I have somewhere more discreet in mind." A thin smile, hardly reassuring at all, before he pats Sventon companionably on the shoulder. "Safer too, be certain of that."
Omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis.
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Cinnabar - Member
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- Location: UK
by Acteon » Sat Apr 28, 2007 4:30 am
As the group slowly moved toward the mouth of the cave, so did Acteon. Threats of oil and fire, only served to increase the speed with which he wanted to leave the cave and enter the forest beyond.
The early morning rays shed much more light upon the men waiting to set the place aflame. Acteon weighed them a moment with his gaze before he turned to regard the cave, which had a steady flow of smoke belching from it already. He watched the smoke rise and was glad to see that it was dissipating quickly. As soon as this thing was really set to blaze, the pillar of smoke would be a beacon to the faithful to come defend their hive. They really needed to leave.
Acteon spoke softly to Quincy, "We must away. Very soon. Smoke draws eyes."
The early morning rays shed much more light upon the men waiting to set the place aflame. Acteon weighed them a moment with his gaze before he turned to regard the cave, which had a steady flow of smoke belching from it already. He watched the smoke rise and was glad to see that it was dissipating quickly. As soon as this thing was really set to blaze, the pillar of smoke would be a beacon to the faithful to come defend their hive. They really needed to leave.
Acteon spoke softly to Quincy, "We must away. Very soon. Smoke draws eyes."
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Acteon - Member
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