Closed Pirates of the Hard Nox [archive]

This request is currently closed and not accepting new users.
PAPERWORK

For a moment, Hester blacked out. When she came to, she was greeted with Naveen's smug face, strutting up the hallway towards her. Not exactly what she'd have chosen to wake up to, but not exactly surprising, either. She'd known the other monster wasn't good for much more than a distraction. What did surprise her was seeing Pris still crouching right there next to her. She'd said to go into the vault, hadn't she? Or had she dreamed that? She'd been hoping that by the time Naveen was done finishing her off, allowing twenty to thirty seconds for gloating, they'd have found something they could use to fight him. Couldn't be helped, now; Naveen had already seen them. And now that the door was open, and her mind was a little clearer, she could feel something in the vault--two tall, bleak shapes, stood next to a pulsing tower of necromantic power that could only be one person aboard this ship. Great. So that plan was dead on arrival.

Still, she wasn’t completely out of options. She had her construct's nails. And then her own fingernails, once that failed. Maybe if Pris used the time it took for Hester to die to go where she'd been told, she could try begging mercy from King. The man knew how much talent Pris had; there was a good chance he’d spare her, at least for a while. With a soft, resigned grunt, Hester pushed the nail-construct into motion, moving it into Naveen's path, and--

She almost didn't see it coming. There was a blur--a dark shape, flying down the hall like a wraith down an old city alleyway. The only warning Naveen had--one he might have misinterpreted as fear--was a sudden widening of Hester's eyes. Then there was a terrific wet tearing sound, and a thin, pale length of steel popped out of the center of the old vampire's chest. A split second later, Naveen was down. And there was the captain’s corpse, doing his best starving wolf impression.

Okay. Well. Maybe she'd judged him too early. She'd have to find some way to make up for that, assuming he didn't turn on her next. And assuming Naveen stayed down. For now, best not to draw any more attention to herself. She settled back to watch, a small, grim smile on her face. The nail-beast scuttled backwards a few paces to keep its stubby legs out of the steadily growing puddle.
 
GHOSTLY

"Heh." Ciarán scoffed at the ogre's clumsy defense and his wicked slice along his ribs. The ogre swung his staff, but ducked his head and pulled back to deliver a stab - only to find himself blown back by a burst of energy.

Ciarán flew back and landed hard on his right shoulder before he hit the back wall, his head bouncing against the hardwood. The pressure on his ears was hellish, and the blur in his eyes made it hard to find his center. Ciarán hadn't faced many magic users, and none with evocation like that. It left him with a strange fuzzy feeling in the muscles and a strange stale smell in his nose.

He shifted his shoulders forward and tried to push himself on his feet. Gods, he didn't want to but what else was he to do? His friends were in danger and they were aboard a hostile ship. He looked to his right to see Caleb, a swirling stain grew on his shirt - fuck, Ciarán had hoped Caleb was battle-ready again and was impressed at his resiliency but even he had limits. Sliocht was on the ground now too, Alys was over him. Everything was going wrong.

Ciarán managed to find his feet, despite the unsteadiness in his feet and looked towards the two attackers. The whip wielder seemed to be down, but the ogre was still up.

Fuck, where was his sword?

The glint of his sabre caught his eye - on the wrong half of the room. Ciarán gritted his teeth, if there was any moment for it - it was now.

Ciarán rolled his left shoulder and unhooked his silver hand, letting the false tendons fall loose. Without the hand, the barrel of a cannon at the core of his prosthetic arm was revealed. In a swift movement he hung the hand on his wrist and drew a small, long piece of flint. "I'm done dancing, old boy," Ciarán packed the barrel and steadied it against his forearm. "How does this suit your fancy?"

A spark was struck and above deck, boards splintered and boots shook.
 
THIMBLE

"Hey, listen to me - I'm going to try to help" Alys rasped.

About fucking time, Sliocht thought. She grabbed a hold of the whip and started to pull, providing a blessed relief from its tightening confines.

Alys strained and panted, sweat dripping from her brow. Sliocht breathed heavily as he pushed outwards with his trapped fingers, sliding his free hand to meet them with great effort.

Alys looked like she was going to blow a blood vessel. Sliocht was fairly certain he already had.

With a jolt, the whip fell away, and a tremendous explosion shook the room.


When the smoke cleared enought to see, Sliocht caught a glimpse of Ciaran, resting his false arm upon his real one. Wisps of smoke and sparks of burning powder fell from the open end of Ciaran's arm-cannon, drifting to the floor like dying fireflies.
 
ANNASIEL

The monster was distracted - first, by the steady grip of Fionn - then, by an attack from behind, Mal sneaking up to strike its back with a needle. Still, that didn't solve the issue of its gnashing teeth. Where one of them to slip in their grip, or perhaps act a little reckless, they'd easily put themselves within chomping distance, and while Emer doubted it would do enough damage to be lethal, it would most certainly be unpleasant.

With a calm collectedness that she, in consideration, found somewhat amusing, given the circumstances, Emer slipped one of the lines covers off of the mats. Spreading it wide between her hands, she slowly approached the beast. One. Two. Three. It was totally distracted as she jumped forward, pulling the cover down over the creature's head, wrapping her arms around the base in a hug to keep it in place.

"Hush, now. No biting," she murmured. "Mal, dear, could you please sew this cover down? And as for you -"

Emer smiled sympathetically at the undead. Not that it could see - but perhaps it could hear it in her voice.

"Is anyone - still in there? And if so, do you like tea?"
 
REYN

The needle connected. It connected them together- it was a very poor stitch, but now wasn't the time for perfectionism. The firbolg was, by over-literal faerie-magic law, sewn into Mal's body. That meant they could get to work.

He would find it harder to move, now; the magic exerting a deliberate counterforce to his muscles, like someone pushing down against him. This, hopefully, would slow him down, make it harder to move. Of course, should he come wise to Mal's stolen trickery, moving with them instead of against them would be enough to throw them off-balance, but Mal was banking on him not thinking that far ahead.

Truth be told, they were banking on him not thinking at all.

A cover was thrown over him, the weight of it pulling the thread to the ground, causing Mal to stumble forwards.

"Oh, is this the peaceful option, is it, Emer?" They scowled, "An armless affront comes shambling in, and the first thought that pops into that head of yours is ooh, I bet he'd like some Earl Grey- bollocks to that. You need to stop sniffing those herbs, they've rotted your brain more than his. Bloody- throw a blanket over him, give him a cup of chamomile- here's your bloody chamomile."

They strode over to the undead, kicking the cover away and planting their boot against his back.

Then, they drew their sword, and swung it towards his neck.
 
DELFI

One of the abominations turned it's head to the side, as if it'd seen something moving. Solomon didn't pay attention to it, too busy locking eyes with Sinead.

The rumors were true and her beauty couldn't be denied, but it'd been long since Solomon King had given up the pleasures of the flesh over something far greater. He wouldn't be tempted by the pirate's flirtation, despite finding it amusing.

"I know all about books. I have some more… Interesting ones in my posession. But you won't find it here." He gestured towards a small rounded table to his left and walked to it, pulling a chair for his guest, as a gentleman would. His bodyguards accompanied him, and from behind the piles of gold another one of his apprentices appeared, carrying a golden tray with a tea set. The person was slightly taller than Hester, her skin was gray and her eyes were big and black.

"These belonged to the first generation of the fae empire. The princess Cora had it in her possession when their ship crashed over the coast of the West Sea." He explained, showing off the delicate teapot, made out of white porcelain with hand painted drawings to it's side. There were small, naked fairies, their wings had been painted with liquid gold.
 
QUIRBLES

Leo refused to move ahead before offering the remnants of his imprisonment to the Baron. It was taken quickly, a nod and grunt given the boy's way. "Mmh." Emryk offered in reply, releasing his hand from Soren's legs and quickly throwing the chain along both their backs. The metal was pulled taut, curling tight against the body of the jotunn and the jacket covering the Baron with a dull rattle; keeping one arm between the body's legs, Emryk pulled the arm that hung along his chest to Soren's knee, keeping both together with a single clasp of his scaled mitt across both limbs. They nearly framed his front like an oversized necktie, and both ends of the chain were held in the clasping hand to better keep the load atop his shoulders and back. His other arm remained free, thankfully, though it remained upon its twin to help stabilize Soren's bulk during the thundering sprint. The time to thank Leo and Juniper for their contributions would come, but not now. He was beyond civility, for the moment, as he kept his stare trained upon the far end of the hallway that had been scouted ahead. Deep breaths came from the Baron's chest, his cadence becoming loud, growling. He was a workhorse-- stoic, single-minded, and strong. Naught could stop his stride without effort, and even then, doubly so without consequence. Leo's words did not go unheard, but for a moment, they did go unanswered. After what seemed like careful deliberation, Emryk's gaze finally fell to the boy, strained as it was, and he gave a nod. What sounded like cannonfire rang out from the door ahead, the ship shuddering for a moment as they ran.

"Attack... who I strike." Came his snarled reply, breath pushing out of him like a powder-keg with each step. Words came in-between, dotted pieces of shrapnel in the aftershock, and he reserved no further breath for them. Only to run, and only to switch his posture with a hiss of air as the half-closed door approached, his stance dropping low--

-- KRRACHKKHCHHH.

With a thundering crack of wood, Emryk barreled through the door, slamming it open with a braced forearm and leg that ached in the aftermath. It did little to make him falter, and his stride remained unbroken. Thoughts of pain was shouldered alongside Soren and would wait until they were free from this hell. For now, his sights were set upon a singular target...

...the sole remaining cultist, robed in alabaster cloth stained red. Their compatriot was seemingly collapsing from an exchange that had occurred not moments prior to their arrival, leaving her open and the last of the definably hostile force. Female, with a weapon of some kind; distracted, though that was likely to change with the eight-foot behemoth barreling towards her. He barely had to lift a hand to harm her-- in fact, that was solely what he did, free arm sticking out as he barreled towards the woman with the intent to strike and clothesline her to the ground with a fist of stone. Momentum and the combined weight of two men would be all he needed to at least force her attention away from her combatants, if not stun our outright knock the woman unconscious; brawny as he was and nimble as she ought to be, Emryk kept his elbow and hand at about the upper chest, intending to slam her down into the floor of the dining hall.

It was uncouth to strike a lady, but he did hope extenuating circumstances exempted him from the faux-pas.

"... apologies." Came a breath that rode upon the wake of his sprint, pace still unchanged and moving from one end of the room to the other-- unfaltering, and unyielding. Soren's corpse was still fresh, and each moment spent still was a moment wasted.
 
DELFI

Caleb watched as Ciarán fired at their opponent, breaking his staff in half and bursting through the ogre's torso, as well as the wall behind him. His blood was darker and thicker than any he'd ever seen, and the sight brought a smile to the young man's lips. The motherfucker deserved it.

"What have you done?! Snot-" The whip lady shouted, pulling herself up and running towards her companion, who'd fallen down to his knees. If anyone was after their location, the gun master's less than subtle attack had given it away, so the quartermaster would no longer choose discretion over efficiency. He pulled out his pistol and aimed it at her forehead.

Before pulling the trigger, the door on the opposite side of the room was busted open by someone - half man, half lizard - with what seemed to be a dead body chained to his back. Caleb recognized Soren instantly, and when he jumped into his line of sight, hitting the woman into unconsciousness, he aimed at the space between his eyes.

"Hey, Lizard!" He called out, pulling himself up while pressing the fabric of his shirt tightly against his wound. The answer to his question would determine whether he'd pull the trigger or not. "Did you kill him?"
 
SHODDYPRODUCT

The sorceress missed the few words spoken before Emryk's charge, both due to previous events, and what they thought they had just seen beyond the half open door. Part of them was hopeful, though another part doubted. What were the odds, truly, that the Nox was here? The raid had not gone well, they knew that much, and it felt insane for them to chase down the Truth Teller so soon after a plan gone awry. The captain should have been too smart for that.

Their opinion of the captain was immediately tarnished following Emryk eviscerating a door in cold blood and laying one of the cultists out prone, effectively neutralizing her. Immediately following the assault, quick as ever, Caleb had gun drawn and pointed at the man carrying Soren's corpse. Juniper scanned the room from the doorway, catching sight of Alys, Sliocht, even Ciarán, and felt a tension they didn't know they were holding ease from their shoulders. The Nox may not have been the best environment, but they knew people there, had friends there. To see them here was a relief, even if they were insane for coming. Before they spoke, they were reminded of the weight in their arms. Poppy. Right.

Juniper stepped into the room and gently, carefully, set the body of their would-be friend against the wall, in a sitting position. 'I-... I'm sorry, Poppy. I don't know if you can go any further than this... But I'll do my best. You at least deserve to be off this ship.' A silent promise, as they wiped their eyes and composed themself. They couldn't afford to be a wreck in front of the crew, especially not if the captain was nearby. That would certainly be nearly as bad as they last few days.

They stood back to their full height as they replaced their glasses upon their nose, feeling once more, now that they had stowed away their sorrow, the lacerations and burns along their back and in their right hand. With a wince, they stepped over quickly, before Caleb could get too anxious with the trigger (they had heard in one of the villages they had visited that he was quick to... nevermind), and spoke to the few of the crew of the Hard Nox.

"No, he didn't kill him. His injuries from Fen Manor did, and Solomon King isn't exactly the type to give his prisoners medical attention. Emryk did, however, help me get out of the brig, and stop King's helpers from killing us, so if you could do me a favor, Caleb? Please put the gun down, and tell me what the hell you guys are doing here?" they said, voice still hoarse, but warming up, from earlier. They sounded slightly shaky, but more confident than they had a few moments ago when talking to Leo and Emryk alone.
 
DELFI

Caleb relaxed upon seeing another familiar face. He figured it wouldn't be the best moment to ask about the dead woman with a face covered, and put the gun down per Juniper's request.

"We're here to rescue you. Sort of." He shrugged. For Juniper to escape on their own saved them the trouble, and Caleb suspected the smell of smoke that was starting to get to the room had something to do with it. It was a shame Soren didn't make it out alive, Caleb would miss his breadrolls.

"Is there anyone else down there?" He asked. His job was to get rid of the Truth Teller's human resourse, and if Juniper and the two strange men that accompanied them were the only ones left, they might as well get the hell out of there.
 
DELFI

Naveen had underestimated his rival.

The blond vampire was surprised by a rapier's stab on his back before being tackled to the ground, followed by a series of attacks from the beast he'd put on ice.

His jacket had been torn apart, but the worst was when he turned to face his assailant, who laid his claws down his previously beautiful, untainted face.

As the blood dripped down his chin, he stared at the eyes of a predator.

Before Lucien could pierce his claws through Naveen's chest and pull out his heart, he used the strength he had left to create distance between them, by surrounding himself with an ice bubble, adorned with spikes. If the vampire attempted to break it, he'd no longer find his opponent nor his rapier - only a hole on the floor, fit for a rat's escape.
 
FANG

Emryk, the single-minded behemoth, adjusted his burden after Leo gave his report, huffing at the effort already spent and to prepare himself for what was to come. Leo could see in the man’s eyes that he was not intent upon stopping their charge, his time spent in a cell fueling his base need to escape. Leo had seen the look in many men’s eyes but never so close to their destination. It was almost inspiring if not for the ragged state he was placing himself in.

”Attack,”Emryk began, speaking between exhausted breaths, “… who I strike.”

A simple command Leo had no qualms about following. Under different circumstances he might have grinned at the lizard in anticipation, instead nodding as the charge continued. Emryk’s hulking frame provided an easy target to follow. Leo fell into step behind him, mere inches away as he crashed through the door. Leo took the split second of Emryk’s slowed momentum to take note of the changes in the room. The small fairy woman now kneeled in front of the thick, large man who had just been prone, the other massive bloke and the male fairy who had been fighting the green man together tore their gazes away from their opponent’s new injuries at Emryk’s explosive arrival. The cloaked woman was running to her fallen companion’s side.

Emryk chose his target and Leo stayed at his back until the moment he knocked the cloaked woman to the floor, keen ears pricking at the lizards muttered apology to the enemy. Leo shook his head imperceptibly as he spun around Emryk’s halted form and pounced on the woman fiercely, tugging free an arrow head with a bit of broken shaft still attached from the waist of his trousers. With two swift motions Leo stabbed at the back of the woman’s neck while simultaneously a masculine voice asked Emryk about Soren’s body.

”Hey lizard!”the voice rang out. ”Did you kill him?”

Leo wheeled around to face the threat in the speaker’s voice, his arms flung wide in a paltry attempt to shield his companion who far outsized him. Juniper, however, was quicker, her words providing a similar purpose as they defended Emryk’s innocence and stepped between the gun wielder and the lizard man.

”No, he didn't kill him. His injuries from Fen Manor did, and Solomon King isn't exactly the type to give his prisoners medical attention. Emryk did, however, help me get out of the brig, and stop King's helpers from killing us, so if you could do me a favor, Caleb? Please put the gun down, and tell me what the hell you guys are doing here?” Leo smirked at Juniper’s ability to speak so many words so quickly.

For a moment Leo opened his mouth to speak, running threat to excuse to apologies through his mind as each one fell short of the sorcerer’s concisely placed verbal defense. He snapped his jaw closed, deciding against speaking and instead shifting his focus to the others in the room, keeping the prone woman’s form in his line of sight as he kept wary for more threats from the others still breathing.

The pistol lowered and the weilder, Caleb, spoke to Juniper with a familiar tone.

”We're here to rescue you. Sort of,”the dark skinned fairy replied to Juniper’s question. ”Is there anyone else down there?”

Leo thought of the other, older prisoners who had fled or burned. “None worth rescuing,” he said flippantly as his eyes shifted nervously from face to face. The fairy man seemed to have relaxed, but Leo knew better than to trust appearances when it came to danger, especially with people as well armed as this group seemed to be.
 
ILLIRICA

It seemed that Sinéad was to die of courtesy. That was regrettable - it was not the way she would have chosen to go. The way she would have chosen to go involved drinks much stronger than tea and people much more attractive than King and his revenants.

She purchased the time anyway, crossing the room in calmly measured strides. An attendant appeared, and Sinéad wondered what tricks she had up her sleeve. All she carried seemed to be a tea set, one which King was all too eager to describe: a relic, of the fae royalty. A muscle in her back twitched. King wasn't likely to see it, and certainly wouldn't know what it meant. Emer would have, had she been here. Lucien might have.

With ashen calm, she reached out and picked one of the cups off of the tray, pretending to examine the filigree. In truth, she wasn't even seeing it. Perhaps she saw another teacup, far away and long ago. Perhaps she saw nothing but scarlet. "Priceless, no doubt," she murmured, with the same gray ash in her voice, concealing the embers.

The gold glinted, and the embers sparked. Her hand moved, quickly, dashing the teacup to the floor and crushing it under a booted heel for good measure.

"Fuck. The Princess Cora." Long dead she might have been, but fuck the whole family. Not that Sinéad hadn't been working on that a bit before-

Another twitch, and she ground the porcelain in a little deeper, then slammed her palms down on the table, leaning over it and giving King a feral look that Lucien would have been proud of. Another move of her hands and she grabbed the edge of the table, quickly hurling it towards the Truth Teller's Captain, using its cover to get her knives in her hands once more, ready for bloodshed and not caring too much whose.
 
SHODDYPRODUCT

Juniper winced at Leo's words, but relayed roughly the same information. "Probably not. The only ones left are either dead from the fires, or the smoke. That or just weren't all there anymore anyways. Why? I can't imagine the captain chasing down this ship just for the two of us, or to fill in the ranks after the raid either." Truthfully, they would be surprised if anyone was left belowdecks, given what had transpired, but stranger things had happened in the last few days, such as the Nox making a sudden appearance here.

They surveyed everyone else, checking their condition. The crew seemed to be in rough shape, almost worse for wear than they were from their escape, though they hadn't suffered any casualties. Hopefully, they wouldn't, now that there were more of them together, but they worried for Emryk, weakened as he was. "Where's everyone else? Is there something we need to do, or are we just getting out of here?"
 
GOLDEN

Her fingernails were about to fall off. No doubt, they'd be ripped away, embedded in this goddamn whip. Whatever sorcery powered the weapon, it was simply too strong. Until it simply didn't exist. Two vertebrae suddenly unclasped, causing the contraption to fall to the ground with a harmless clatter. Surprised, but also relieved, Alys leaned back and sighed deeply, watching as Sliocht's broad chest expanded to fill his lungs with air.

Chaos erupted not a second later. Ciarán showed them exactly why he was Master Gunner, by pulling out one last trick from his sleeve. Alys wondered if he kept a cannon tucked in his prosthetic on a regular basis. Surely not? What other tricks did he have hidden in there? Maybe she'd ask him about it if they survived this blasted ship.

She gained great satisfaction in watching the whip lady despair over the death of her beloved troll, which was further magnified when a very large man - no, lizard-man, charged through the door and collided with the woman. Now unconscious, she had no chance of defending herself from the second newcomer, a feral-looking man with a twisted look in his eye. At least she recognized Juniper, and the deceased body of their cook.

Slowly, and with a slight unsteadiness, Alys rose to her feet. Her hands and forearms were filthy, coated with a mixture of blood (both hers and Sliocht's) and other bodily fluids. At the very least, while the others conversed, she attempted to wipe her injured wrist on the bottom, inner layer of her shirt. The faerie did so gingerly, and still, it throbbed like a bitch. She'd have to get Emer to clean it up later - or at the very least, get the supplies to do it herself.

Alys piped in once Juniper asked their question. "No, we need to get the fuck out of here," she said plainly, picking at the blood beneath her fingernails. Her gaze lifted as she continued. "As much as we needed it, that cannon was hardly subtle, and I'd wager we've got a hell of a swarm coming our way." She wasn't usually one to get to vocal, but they just crawled down to hell - to rescue these very people - and they still needed to climb back up.

She glanced down towards Sliocht. "He needs Emer. And I need someone to help me with him."
 
ANNASIEL

It was Emer's turn to stumble back, balance momentarily lost as Mal kicked the writhing undead forward, sending it toppling to the ground. Then, they raised their sword - and in a flash of glinting firelight and a wet crack, the head of the creature rolled apart from its body, black blood spurting onto the boards. Emer jumped back, careful not to get any on her, and turned hard eyes to the shipmaster.

"Am I a fool for not accepting there's no heart left in something still living?" she snapped, hands tensing as they grabbed bundles of her shawl and tightened its wrap around her. "We know little how these things work, only that the dead are brought back by magic's hand. I would think a being so obviously kin would show some sympathy, but yet again, it seems your care ends at your fingertips."

She took a deep breath in, glancing down at the still wriggling body.

"This was a person, and still is a victim. At least respect that. Please take care of them, and help poor Fionn find a broom. I need the clinic ready before the crew returns."
 
DELFI

Solomon's brows were raised slightly, and barely perceptibly upon Sinead's unforeseen actions. A moment of silence followed after it, until King burst into laughter.

"Not a fan of the crown, I see? You surprise me, Sinéad." The laughter died down, leaving behind a grin while one of the abominations set foot in front of the old elf, in a protective stance. King didn't seem to worry, instead putting his daggers back in their scabbards.

"What if I told you I intend on getting rid of the fae empire and take over the Floating Isles… Would you consider joining me?"

Solomon hadn't noticed up until that point what kind of creature the captain of the Hard Nox was. at first he assumed an elf, because of their shared pointed ears but after that little show, he began suspecting it was something else.

***

Upon the shirtless guy's claim that there was no one worth rescuing, which still meant there were people, Caleb feared he'd have to go downstairs and finish the job, but Juniper got that worry out of the way, and Alys reminded them all of the situation they were in. She was right, they had to get out of there, and if the fire hadn't killed the remaining prisoners, he could only hope the undead would.

"I got this," the quartermaster said, walking over to the other fairy and pulling Sliocht out of her arms and up his back. The man was heavy, but Caleb could manage on his own. The stain on his shirt kept growing bigger, but he doubted it'd get to a point of concern before they got back to the ship, where Mal would help him get his stitches fixed, if she didn't try to attatch him to her body again. "How's your hand? Can you fight?" He asked, looking over the damage made to Alys' wrist.

With Sliocht on his back, Caleb would need cover. He adjusted the beloved barber's position, holding him in a way that would at least allow him to use his pistol if needed.

"Ciarán, help Juniper." Caleb said, gesturing towards the body the changeling had left on the ground. He didn't know who that was, but if the blonde had planned to leave it there it wouldn't have bothered carrying it out of the brig. The lizard-man carried Soren on his back, he was bound to be vulnerable at least to an extent, and at last, he turned to the man with feline eyes.

"You. Can you fight?" He asked. He'd seen the way he'd easily finished the woman with the whip, but it was always better to be sure. "Lead the way. And be ready to fight enemies who'll get up, no matter how many times you take them down."
 
GOLDEN

Although Caleb didn't outright say it, his actions seemed to convey that he agreed with Alys' statement. It was a true rarity for the proud Quarter Master, so Alys decided to add a tiny line to her imaginary tally against him. Of course, beneath his name, there was a massive line that seemed to stretch on forever, so she had quite a bit of work to do to make up for that blaring blunder. Depending on what he had concluded from their rushed conversation earlier, she wondered if she'd even get the chance. They could very well make it back to the ship, only for him to rat her out and toss her into a crow's cage to rot.

He volunteered for the job to carry Sliocht instantly, tossing the barber onto his back, despite the growing stain across his chest. "You're bleed-," She began to say quietly, brows furrowing - out of guilt? Or concern? But she stopped herself, gaze flicking up to his momentarily. He was a grown man, if he wanted to carry Sliocht while his stitches popped out, who was she to stop him? It'd make him look like a hero, wouldn't it?

Instead, she answered his questions. "It's fine, I can do it." Maybe it was her own pride she was trying to maintain, or perhaps the feeling of having to prove herself, because she certainly didn't feel fine. Although she could flex her fingers, Alys worried about not having the strength to hold or use her cutlass with her right hand. And her left shoulder, now bruised and painful to move, could very well limit her range of motion. However, there was no break or dislocation, so her only choice was to push through the pain and fight using her left hand. The fully loaded pistol secured beneath her arm was also an option now, since they no longer had to worry about being subtle. She could do this.

As Caleb began assigning other roles, she slowly stretched her neck, moving her ear to touch one shoulder and then the other. She lifted her shoulders up and back down, exhaling deeply and preparing herself for the hell that was to come.

Her gaze fell on the feral-looking man without a shirt, the one that had been asked to lead the group. Alys was weary of that decision, but kept quiet, observing his mannerisms and response to the order with an emotionless expression on her face. She didn't know him, didn't trust him, nor did she like the look in his eye. For those reasons, she wouldn't mind putting him between herself and an undead. So she tilted her head towards the hallway and gave him a slight smile. "After you."
 
FANG

The male fairy took the large man from the female while golden eyes watched their movements carefully, the tension between the two nearly imperceptible but mentally noted from the woman’s quick glances and changing expressions. Blood covered the man’s chest as he shouldered his hefty companion, and since Leo saw no blades on the enemies’ bodies he suspected the wound came from a different battle than the one that had taken place here.

”You. Can you fight?” Leo tilted his head curiously and crossed his arms. The giant had asked him the same question. ”Lead the way. And be ready to fight enemies who’ll get up, no matter how many times you take them down.”

Leo scoffed and spit on the floor with audible vehemence. “I can scrub floors,” Leo began, his lip curling a bit as he addressed the commanding fairy. “And I can kill. Leo does not need a dull little birdy to tell him what he’s facing, we’ve left more bodies behind us than these four.” Leo waved a hand to indicate both fallen comrade and foe. Regardless of his words, however, Leo had already started toward the stairs obediently. Following orders was not a habit easily broken, especially when they echoed his own desires.

“Keep your weapons from my back if you don’t want yours torn open, little bird. If I can trust you to follow then I’ll be happy to take the lead,” Leo turned his head to the side, eyeing both of the fairies with no small amount of suspicion before turning to continue up the stairs.
 
SOMEGUY500

Fionn had dropped the writhing body as the shipmaster kicked it down and promptly separated it from its head in a decisive slice. "Far be it from me to argue, but 'tis mine fear that, regardless who this victim used to be, their thread hath long been severed. This creation existeth as a different being, and I daresay the best kindness we may offer is to sever its thread in turn." Fionn knelt down to pick the biting head back up by its scalp, and trudged into the ruined clinic with it. There, he made to throw it out the yet-unfixed hole in the wall, only for it to hang on to his hand by its teeth. Furrowing his brow, he attempted to free his hand from its jaws before trying to throw it out again.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top