Dervish

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

So... for those of us at Nightgate, just to clarify, we are responding to the attackers that Jorwen has encountered? Because Sevine is probably passed out in a chair in the hall.

@MacabreFox

Yup! Inn is under attack by a buncha jerkwads who want Kamal-Senpai to notice them.

.:: ℤ𝕖𝕝𝕕𝕒 - 𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 ::.

@Dervish *pun shades* no just a Kickstart.

@jasonwolf

Man, he really is a cheap date.

.:: ℤ𝕖𝕝𝕕𝕒 - 𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 ::.

@DearTrickster Suuuuuure~ Go right ahead. I'm all ears.

@The 42nd Gecko@jasonwolf

Maybe you could help point Gecko in the right direction for their Wizard of Oz moment? Does Noi need anything to get back up and running?

@Baklava

Red Bull.

The Jolly Roughers ~ Dervish & MacabreFox

The morning after...

Shay awoke on the couch to a now unfamiliar sensation of the sun beaming across his face, the bright morning light piercing the English sky most expectantly. For the first time in quite a while, the sun baked the London streets, and Shay took it as a promising omen, both for his reconciliation with Vera and for the job they'd be doing today. There were still misgivings about the whole assignment, but it wasn't as if he had not done worse in his days working for the gang. Deciding he had time for a bath, Shay stripped out of the clothing he still had clung to his body from the night prior, not caring how crumpled it was as it landed on the couch and began to run the water as he prepared himself a quick breakfast of rye bread with dried ham slices and a glass of water. Not bothering to sit as he ate his meal, Shay finished doodling the details of the map he'd been working on of the von Goethe residence.

Half an hour later, being fed and bathed, Shay trimmed his beard and greased back his hair, deciding he needed to look presentable like usual, albeit with a very special reason to keep on top of it. Having Vera in his life certainly gave him an incentive to look his best, because he wanted to show her he gave enough of a damn about showing he was putting in an effort for her, both in matters of the heart and physically. They both had flaws they had to overcome, and at the very least, looking like they were trying inside and out counted. Satisfied, albeit with a few less hairs that got yanked with his comb, Shay wet a cloth with some cologne and patted around his neck, wrist, and armpits. Good to go.

Finally, donning his thick black peacoat and cap, along with his army-issued boots and adjusting his shoulder-holster for his Webley under his coat, Shay locked up and headed out to meet up with his people at the Tawdry Countess.

After walking the few short blocks, Shay entered the Countess shortly after 0900 to an endearingly warm reception. Sam offered him a raised hand in greeting, and Grant was at the bar, filling a small bowl with cocktail olives, a favorite of his. He looked up when he saw the Irishman and waved him along. "Just the lad I was looking for. Come on Shay, big day ahead of us. Are you well rested?"

"Yes sir, first good night in a while." Shay responded, following him into the office and taking an offered seat. He found himself sinking into the soft leather as he leaned back into it.

Grant smiled, popping an olive into his mouth. "The way you've been carrying on with Miss Addley, I can imagine. The boys aren't giving you a rough go of it?"

"Quite the contrary, they've been exceedingly enthusiastic about the idea. Truth be told, I was a bit worried about how Sam would take it, Miss Vera being his sister and all that, but he seems to be our biggest endorsement." Shay admitted with the slightest hint of a smile. Grant nodded his head in quick succession.

"I think for Sam, he's just happy Vera's found somebody he knows and trusts to be a good man, and you are Shay. Ever since you came to us, you've been a great asset to the family and I think I speak for everyone when I say we were quite worried about the night you took the bullet. How is the shoulder, by the way?" Grant asked, sitting down himself but looking intently at Shay, who rubbed his shoulder where he took the shot.

"Surprisingly, it doesn't hurt that badly anymore. A bit of an ache, but nothing sharp. Shouldn't affect my aim at all." Shay said, plucking a smoke from his coat pocket. Grant slid over a lighter as he fished for his own cigarette. The two lit up in silence before Grant spoke up again.

"With luck, you won't need to use that particular talent for quite a while."

Shay inhaled a deep drag and flicked the ashes into a tray, all the while looking Grant in the eye. "You find a job that involves putting a 215-grain round in that bastard Donald Hayes' heart, let me know. I'm itching for a chance to even the score and make the bastard pay for putting Vera into harm's way like that." he said darkly, recalling the night in the rain he had last shot his rifle on the job to protect Vera from the Adders, and the night a the Tuscany where he had taken the shot.

A voice came from behind, "Been looking into some payback against the Adders for that bit of bad business, you can rest easy."

Clint walked into the office, wiping his hands off on a towel before taking a half-seat on the desk. He wore a vest over a button-up shirt and some grey dress pants and immaculately shined boots. He was meeting with someone of high standing, Shay decided. "They've been bold lately, more than usual. Between trying to murder Vera in the street and then brazenly attacking you both in public like that, we're not going to let that stand. They're fucking around in our turf, excuse my language, so it's time we dab in theirs. But first, the job at hand."

As if on cue, Vera stepped into the office along with the others and took a seat. Her smile was radiant and immediately lifted Shay's spirits, and he welcomed her sitting next to him. It was liberating to not have to hide their affections from the others; he felt accepted, at peace. No one made to ruin that for either of them. He placed a hand atop of Vera's on his knee before replying to the question.

From his pocket, Shay produced the carefully folded map he worked on, and laid it out across the desk for everyone to see. "Of course. Here it is, to the best of my recollection. Vera, please feel free to point out any discrepancies from what you recall, but this is about as accurate as I can recall. Hard to forget where things are in that place.... it was a bit, what's the word? Ostentatious."

Shay went over everywhere Vera and himself had been inside of the mansion, where personnel were located, entrances and security fixtures, artifacts worth noting, and of course, the painting. All in all, Shay took roughly five minutes to go over it, with Vera interjecting intermittently to go over what she had observed, and soon the room went into details over the operation.

Finally, Grant looked at both Shay and Vera. "Think you can pull this off?"

Shay dragged on his smoke one more time before extinguishing it in the tray. "Won't take twenty minutes."

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

Nightgate Inn, the Pale...

(insert long title here) by D and L.

The rudimentary defenses put up almost overnight had made the Nightgate Inn somewhat of a workable strategic position. He admired what the Braves could do after watching them come out of the forest like ghosts and immediately set to work digging the trenches and the barriers. Their leader had remained a mystery and Jorwen had no intention of wading into their working area and yelling for their leader to name himself. Him and his own would stay cozy in their beds until the Braves decided they wanted to talk. Even so, Jorwen sat in the creaky rocking chair with his cloak wrapped tight around him, his shield and his seax kept close at hand. It was somewhat relaxing watching them work, rocking himself softly in the little chair. It reminded him of his days as a guerilla in the Great Forest, hunting Thalmor and their Khajiiti irregulars.

One of the men flanked by two others, his Second and his Housecarl most likely, broke off from the men in the camp and started making their way towards him. He stood, raising a hand in peace, “The Chief shows himself to the other.” Jorwen spoke, a friendly smile on his face.

The man did not return the gesture, instead standing a head taller than even Jorwen and the lower half of his face covered by some kind of black muffler. His brown eyes never seemed to blink, and he was far more tanned than most Nords would ever be in their lives. Over a brigandine he wore a brown longcoat with a fur-lined interior with the front buttons unfastened, giving him access to a bastard sword and a secondary dagger. The man was completely bald, almost obsessively so, with no hair upon his head save for a pair of bushy eyebrows that almost matched his eyes.

“If one buys too hard into the tribalism of chiefdom, then they cannot become the leader necessary to run the most successful mercenary company in the Northern hemisphere.” The man replied, gazing down unerringly at Jorwen. “You are the commander of your men, I presume?”

Jorwen’s smirk fell quickly and he once again donned his squinting demeanor in the face of what this man was. His accent was not Nordic, some sort of a deep, sing-song, posh Brettic, and a closer look showed that he spent time in sunnier places. He nodded, more business-like now, “Aye.” He nodded to the encampment from which the sounds of digging and hammering and work songs could be heard, “Your men seem oddly keen to readying themselves for a battle. The Kamal are moving west?”

He knew that Bharzak could’ve brought Kamal to them. For that, this man could very well kill her for any sort of supposed treachery or treason. Jorwen wasn’t in the business of letting his own be killed, no matter how short a time they were part of his band. It was best to feign ignorance to anything past the Siege of Windhelm.

“One does not take unnecessary chances in a time of war. Windhelm will forever serve as an example of the cost of complacency. That noted, I have had reports, not fully substantiated, about Kamal scouting formations moving uncomfortably South for anyone’s liking. There is word from some reliable sources the Snow Demons are operating in this region. I intend to be prepared.” The Braves’ commader said, looking at his men and women doing final touches on fortifications. “At the very least, this keeps my men preoccupied and their skills sharp. A drink should be earned, do you agree?”

“Tastes sweeter that way.” Jorwen nodded, though no sign of good humor. This man didn’t even talk like a Nord, but he figured time could be far better spent sussing out the lay of the land and plans of attack rather than sussing out wherever this man was from. “Is there a name your men call you?”

“Dorrance.” The man replied with a nod. “I’ve heard you addressed by name, Jorwen. Any relation to the fabled Red-Bear I’ve heard stories about during the Great War or the rebellion?”

Jorwen’s bones grew cold. Did he know this man? Had he killed his father or a brother? He swallowed, though his eyes did not show it, his hand very much had a mind to rest on the small knife at his back. Should he be honest or should he not? He remembered Karth’s words, that no matter how much running, his shadow would be at his heels. His chin rose, “The Red-Bear was not a rebel, he was a sworn Housecarl in Aelfgar Ruddy-Mane’s Stormcloaks.” He shrugged, “He stands before you now.” And he gripped the knife at the small of his back, even so.

If Dorrance recognized the danger, he didn’t show it, his gaze was unwavering. “Call yourself what you will, a soldier can still be a rebel, and you speak as if it is such a putrid word. I rather admire a man of conviction who is willing to stand for his beliefs, even if I do not necessarily share them. Politics have never been much interest to me, and I have had men from both the Legion and Stormcloaks find their way to the the White River Braves’ ranks over the past couple of years. Ideology does not interest me as results do. You, Red-Bear, are a man who gets results. You have my respect. Several of my warriors speak highly of you.” He said, returning his gaze to the fortifications. “Your Imperial friend seems to be quite in his element amongst the fortifications.” he noted.

“Aye, Tower-Shield’s useful with a joiner’s hammer and the axe. He was at Greenwall when Yellowtooth’s Stormcloaks sieged it. I’m glad I was in Hjaalmarch, if we’d met we wouldn’t be friends now, I reckon.” He nodded, “My men are resting, but should you need some handy folk, we’ll be at hand. Sevine the Huntress is my Second, you might not have met her.”

“I have not. Perhaps there will be time in the morrow.” He said, suddenly turning to look towards a voice calling for the commander.

Through the door burst a young and slight Imperial man, if he could be called that thanks to his youthful appearance and soft features, his brow caked in dirt and sweat. “Commander, the enemy has been spotted in the Southwest, moving North.” he managed between breaths. He took a few moments to inhale and slow his breathing before continuing. “We were unable to get close enough for an accurate headcount, but we make at least 40-60 Kamal along with some mounts, and a expeditionary force of Tamrielic nature of about 100 or so. A small vanguard force, it looks like.”

“I see. How long?” Dorrance asked, looking upon the young man with curiosity.

“Within the next two hours. They were well past the blight, sir.”

“Good work. Get some water and rest, I will send word for the company to prepare.” Dorrance said, gazing towards Jorwen when the runner took off again. “It appears your men will not enjoy much of a rest this night. I look forward to seeing what you are capable of, Red-Bear.” he said, following out the door the runner departed from, leaving Jorwen standing on his own.

Jorwen looked to his room and sighed. He made his way in, grasping up the huge, old blade and admiring it for the hundredth-hundredth time in his life. He nodded, solemn, “Always more work.”

* * *

Dzuungits traced the pale white of the scar that ran down his forearm. It was equal parts trophy and reminder. He remembered the Raiding Season long past when the Tang Mo had almost cleaved straight through his arm. It seemed almost sad now that another Sleeping Season had passed and in those long years, that Tang Mo’s life did not stretch as far, so he would not find him again and meet him. It would be a bloody reunion, if it had happened. He shook himself from his reminiscing, slipping the heavy gauntlet back over his hand and sniffed at the air. This Raiding Season was promised to be the most glorious, and it had been. They had returned to the West for the first time since his father’s father told tales of marauding through Morrowind. But it was confusing now that Morrowind and the ash-skinned long-ears were their allies.

It seemed wrong, but it was not for Dzuungits to wonder why. It was for Dzuungits to go west and make corpses. The collar-slaves were useful against the Fire Mage, though one was missing, and before they could find the green-skin long-ear, she’d disappeared from their shamans’ Long-Eye. “Dzuungits does not like how you move. He can not hear it.” He said to the presence of the Cat-Man at his side.

“All the better. It has kept Ji’Vesrai from being squashed by those even bigger than he.” The Khajiit said, his tail flicking from side to side. Garbed in entirely black leather armour with covered steel plating upon his shoulders and forearms, the Khajiit was certainly one that someone who was not acquainted with the Dark Brotherhood could mistake as being one of their ranks. Instead, Ji’Vesrai was now the commander of the Tamrielic scouting regiment that had formed under the Kamal. The entirety of the unit, as far as he knew, were comprised of men and women who were upset with the status quo, or felt that life under the Kamal would be more comfortable if they proved themselves in service to the Akaviiri invaders rather than live as cowering subjects.

For Ji’Vesrai, the Kamal were his best chance at seeing the Aldmeri Dominion pay for the deaths of his family and subjugation of his homeland. The Empire and damned Stormcloaks weren’t going to do it, so this unstoppable force of foreign invaders seemed like the ticket. It would be a long wait before the Kamal reached Dominion lands, if ever, but what choice did the Khajiit have?

“This one is pleased to report that the way appears to be clear, save for a single inn that is fairly-well fortified and have a respectable number that rival our own, save for a lack of cavalry, and certainly not the weapons we bring with us. It should be a much more straight-forward scenario than the invasion of Windhelm, this one suspects.” Ji’Vesrai said, running a finger across the scars on his white-furred nose.

“Good.” Dzuungits nodded, tugging the reins on his mount and the huge steed growled before turning and rejoining the march west. It had been two days and no sign of anything to pillage. The young raiders were growing restless and two had already sought to find glory at each others’ throats. This would be good to steady the nerves of his men.

Within three hours, he’d brought his men to a full halt and crested a ridge with the Cat-Man at his side. It was a formidable field. The trenches would make it hard for them to advance, much less their cavalry. If they did not deal with this, they would be taken at their backs, or while they slept. There was no doubt that his hundred riders were being tracked. Some would die here or they would all die later. He would not be the cause of the deaths of his men while they were sent to raid westward. “Ready your men within the hour, we will send them first. We will test the defenders.”

Ji’Vesrai rolled his jaw irritably. Sword fodder, that’s all we are to you. he thought bitterly, but dared not speak. The Kamal weren’t very fond of conflicting dialog; they tended to prefer to solve their conflicts with a heavy-handed and very final show of force. “Very well. This one will send the skirmishers in first to subdue their sentries and attempt to breach their first line without announcing our presence. The line infantry will follow once the foothold is secure.” he replied, looking back on the train of men behind him. There was very much so a distinction between the Tamriel unit and their Kamal retainers. They’d never be seen as equals. “This one requests that the Kamal cavalry be prepared to flank. Ji’Vesrai’s troops are good, but it would be best if we did not take unnecessary risks. This one wants to see as many warriors live to see the next battle, and the one after, until there is something truly glorious that bards and scholars will sing our names for an eternity afterwards.” he said, feeling that he knew Dzuungits well enough by now to know the Kamal was honour bound and a warrior to his core. He absolutely bought into the romanticism of war.

“I will place my men.” Dzuungits nodded. With that, they disappeared behind the ridge once more, to where the skirmishers and the cavalry parted ways and took position.

* * *

A sentry was perched atop a small hill, dozing off and holding his spear with the head towards the sky. It was slapped out of his limp hands and he choked on his own blood as a knife thudded into the side of his neck. His limp form rolled down the small hill out of sight, the Bosmer wrapping himself in his cloak and grasping up his spear in the same skyward position, flashing a cheeky grin at the archers that took position next to him. A group of three faces around a pipe were illuminated by a match somewhere away from the camp. The first arrow buried itself in a burly Nord chest just as the match’s flame touched the bowl of tobacco and the fates of the other two were decided by Bomser arrows whistling in the dark.

A Khajiit’s eyes over the shoulder of a young Nord as he pissed into the ditch at the edge of camp. Quiet feet bringing death through the first of the tents at the edges of the camp. There was blood in the moonlight and it was too late and useless a warning as the first man to open his eyes before the knife slipped across his neck could scream. Of a sudden, there were groggy warriors stumbling from tents and cursing, eyes struggling against the darkness and swinging weapons wildly. Questions of where or what were only answered by grunts and cries before the first torches and lanterns were lit.

A Bosmer watched as his Khajiiti companion threw aside a tent flap only to be palmed in the face so hard he heard his head break. The biggest, reddest Nord he’d seen emerged like a bear out of a cave with mad eyes and snarling teeth. The Nord took his shirt in a big fist and their was a white light, and his head was numb of a sudden.

“Weapons! Weapons, you bastards! We’ve Knife-Ears to trim and fur cloaks to make!” Jorwen bellowed as loud as he could, looking left and right and all around for the Dominion soldiers. He was looking for golden skin and pointed ears or glowing eyes at the edges of a lantern’s glow before his tired mind caught back up with him. He was in the Pale, at the Nightgate Inn with the White River Braves, “A raid! Gather towards the inn!”

A man was running at him with his sword raised, giving Jorwen pause before he jumped back at the last second. “Are you fucking mad?” Jorwen yelled at the deranged Nord.

He realized after the man swung again that he was very convicted in his actions. So there was man-folk among the raiders too. Was it bandits? Jorwen jumped back again, and again. Finally the young man grew frustrated and roared, a fierce swing if it had landed hissed through the air in front of his face, leaving the lad’s whole right side open. Jorwen roared, springing forward onto the young Nord and putting him on his back, breathless. He picked him up by his gambeson and flung him into the tent he was sleeping in minutes before this whole thing. He ripped his knife from his sheath as the young man struggled to his feet, putting a hand out, “Wait!”

Jorwen shook his head and kept walking forward.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

Shafty and I have a movealong post baked and glazed when the inn collab drops.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

Happy new years, folks!

May 2016 be buried in the deepest part of the ocean.

.:: ℤ𝕖𝕝𝕕𝕒 - 𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 ::.

@Baklava I probably should have looked into that, but I also figured that people had plenty of opportunity to do that on their own. >.>

.:: ℤ𝕖𝕝𝕕𝕒 - 𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 ::.

To the Left, to the Left, everything you dread is in the tunnel to the left...

A collab between Dervish, Baklava, Gecko, and Jason

"Hah, thank you for your offer and your confidence! I'm not actually sure what use I will be without any sort of equipment unless you need something heavy moved." If Jaege had some sort of beliefs about the strangeness of the cultural rite of a handshake, he showed none of these things as he accepted the handshake with a firm but not harsh grip. "Is the elbowing in the side a greeting of your culture?' He also said as he attempted to elbow the ghost in the side back.

"Wouldn't say I even have a culture, I just pick up on what Hylians do and repeat it so there's less of an unfamiliar ominous air to me." Lev explained. "Figured that, y'know, people might trust the spooky specter that's made a few people soil their birtches over the years if he started using their mannerisms... or at least let their guard down enough to talk instead of immediately swinging whatever what was at hand to smite me." he said, gazing down at Veitaru, his eyes narrowing somewhat. "Gotta say, after getting kicked around by a Gerudo one more than one occasion, I'm not a fan. Being undead just means you don't get to look forward to the sweet embrace of death when someone starts smacking you around."

"I see. I guess I have not met Hylians who enjoy hard pokey bit of the arm into the soft part of the chest. And you, big... Oh, you already left." Jaege spotted that Noi had already left before waiting for a response.

If Jaege had heard Lethe over everyone else's shenanigans, he didn't appear to respond to her, simply staring at one of the torches stroking his chin.

"Are there people you have enjoyed getting kicked around by?" Veitaru responds to Lev with a suspicious raise of the eye.

Noi was greatly disturbed by the floating rags. Perhaps it was the way it messed with his thermometer. Maybe it was the fact that the thing was completely unlike anything he saw. There wasn't enough data to determine the truth. Though now that the gas bag had interrupted him Noi was leaning more towards a negative view. He stomped off towards the tunnels and selected the left most tunnel. Purely because it was the first one and he wasn't going to deny that logic. It was darker than first analyzed, so he opened the compartment on his left thigh from which he retrieved a medium sized water skin. Inside was a viscous, but slick liquid. Pouring it over his hammer it began to form globs and surround the weapon's head. With a glancing strike against the ground the oil lit. The entire hammer head was consumed in flames that were an off green to the naked eye.

"Sentinel: Online. Directive: Obtain the Keystone." Noi announced before turning his head towards the other beings, "Do not stall me. I have waited long enough." His voice again morphed from its cold monotone to one with hints of actual anger.

Felicia stared after the massive metal guy as he went on his way. She couldn't blame him for not acknowledging her. There wasn't much to acknowledge anyway. The tone of Noi's odd voice was not lost on Felicia. She made a mental note to stay well out of that guy's way.

"O-oh. Looks like we have two light sources. That's, uh... that's good," she chuckled nervously, scratching her shoulder as she looked between Jaege, Veitaru, and Lev.

"Is less than I would like." Jaege responded, before wrapping a strap around the base of torch and attempting to see if he could twist it off its base with proper leverage.

"So, is it bad that that guy makes me seem mundane in comparison?" Lev asked, staring after Noi with a certain perplexity. "Well, unlike the suit of armour with a bad attitude and the peculiar way of talking, I'll stick around with you guys so you can see where you're going. Because, y'know, teamwork."

Noi began to make a low rumbling sound. He was becoming agitated. There had been enough waiting, enough watching, enough of everything. It was time for action, but he didn't move. Noi didn't need these other beings. He knew he would be fine alone. Yet he didn't want to leave them. As strangely as they spoke they were the first conversation he had in over a century. They were squishy and small, but intriguing. They certainly weren't smart like the masters, but maybe there was more to them.

Felicia chewed her lip, lost in thought. It was true that having more than one-- or even two-- light sources would be better. Ideally they'd all have their own lanterns, but for some reason Lethe seemed to think they'd be fine without all that. She stared past the others at Noi as he began rumbling. Was it because he was impatient or was that just a sound he made? She took a step towards him, but stopped. Felicia had never been the leader sort. She resigned to wait until one of the others went ahead to join Noi.

Noi's head snapped downwards towards the hylian woman. She was by far the most strange of the lot because she was the least strange. What in the world was a person like that doing here. Noi slowly moved towards the woman careful to keep his flame away from any of the flammable beings.

"Directive?" He asked simply.

One step was all it took to attract the mighty Noi's attention, it seemed.

"Uh... d-... directive?" Felicia's eyebrows knit together in confusion.

Noi pointed at the woman and asked again, "Directive? Why are you here?"

Lev leaned towards Felicia from the side, blocking his "mouth" with the back of his hand as he whispered conspiratorially toward the young woman. "I think you have an admirer."

"I did not question you Rags. You have interrupted me enough." Noi rumbled pointing his flaming hammer at the ghastly being.

The Poe huffed at the indignant mannerisms of... whatever it was Noi was. "Y'mind pointing the burning anvil grinder somewhere else, Rusty? We got plenty of things to worry about in this Temple that's more troubling than you or I or pyromaniac fairies, so how 'bout acting like more of a cooperative fella and less like whatever it is you're doing." Lev said, gesturing to himself in a decidedly exaggerated manner as he slowed down his speech. "Me friiieeeeend.. Felicia friend, Jaggy and Veitaru, also friends. Make sense? We all find the keystone or whatever it is and get out of here without getting our souls eaten or whatever. Sound dandy?"

Noi lowered the hammer, but raised his other hand. Electricity arced between the fingers.

"[color=cyanb]Do not delay me further. My designation is to fight powers greater than yours.[/color]" Noi carefully left out the fact he was not designed to win that fight, "Time has wasted enough. Hylia demands our service. We all move now."

Noi pounded the pommel of his hammer on the ground as if to officiate his order. He marched towards the hallway before looking back expecting the group to follow.

Oh dear... had she said something wrong? Felicia took a deep breath, glancing at Lev with a light shrug. "I, uh, guess we should get going," she tried to compromise, "L-looks like everyone else has already started." She spared a look towards the mouths of the two empty halls-- the voices of her teammates could faintly be heard. That must've meant nobody was dead yet. It was a small comfort.

"I think we let the big guy go forward and he will be happy. No amount of small talk will make him so." There was a slight hint of humor in Jaege's voice as he said big guy. Perhaps because he did not get the opportunity to say it often.

Noi began stomping down the hallway his hammer raised high. If the others were to be of any use they'd be following close behind. If not there was no need for them.

Lev began to follow after the robot, beckoning to the others to follow suit. "I won't argue with voices in my head telling me that time is of the essence as well as the living embodiment of that sentiment. Stay close; I can make my lantern a bit brighter, but I wouldn't fall more than a few meters behind. Just... watch the floor and the walls, and the ceilings. In fact, just don't touch anything." he said, heading into the tunnel with the group. In his notebook, he wrote, Noi, Goron, result of several consecutive generations of inbreeding and tragically suffered as a result. Extremely powerful simpleton, grunts simple sentences, incapable of reasonable thought or speaking in an indoor voice-

Felicia, satisfied that someone had finally started to follow Noi, quickly followed suit. She kept her arms crossed in front of her-- determined to do as the poe said and not touch anything-- on accident or otherwise.

The eerie chill that followed Lev was not lost on Noi. Even the light cast from his lantern felt cold. Noi never actually felt cold, but the thermal readout around the poe and his lantern were frigid. Noi did not turn but he began to speak,

"While the presence of the small hylian is stranger, I do not know why Hylia would becon one as twisted as you Rags. What even are you? Nothing in my logs come close to you. Well I guess you kind of look like a really messed up peahat."

Noi began grumbled gabled words about his hatred for the plants.

"I, uh... what? Do I look like a plant?" Lev demanded, bewildered. "I'm a Poe. Y'know, a ghost, haunts grave yards, torments the living? Something jerks in green underwear stuff into jars for kicks? Did you live under a rock?"

"I have lived in the depths of Lanyru for centuries. All of my kin are machines. We do not leave ghosts, so I had no clue they were so ugly. But yes you do in fact look like someone threw a bunch of rags on on blue peahat."

Lanyru... centuries? Something wasn't adding up, Lanyru was an ancient region, the term predated Hyrule, and Noi was claiming to be a machine that lived back then? The whole statement momentarily made Lev forget the ordeal he was in, until he thought he heard something that sounded like flapping coming from further down the passage. "I'm glad that the strange appliance apparently has a concept of what ugly is. Whoever made you certainly had the right priorities." he retorted sarcastically, lifting his lantern to try and see what's up ahead.

"Silence," Noi demanded.

He leaned forward turning so his audio receptors were aimed towards the dark tunnel before them. all over Noi's body very tiny intricate lines began to light up.

"Combat Protocol: Online. Prime Directive: Defend the Lanayru facility." His voice was empty and cold as death.

With that Noi charged into the darkness all other thoughts overridden by his protocol. Of the twenty keese that descended upon them, a good six flocked to Noi while the remaining fourteen went on ahead. The swooped low, aiming for faces and throats.

It was not the terrible threat Lev had been expecting. Some kind of ghoul, or a Wallmaster, perhaps, but keese? Sure, the bat-like creatures were a reasonable threat in swarms such as this, Lev understood, but it was almost disappointing in how... mundane it was. It was not unlike a rancher having built up the mental expectations of her cows being abducted by visitors from another world, only to find out it was a disgruntled ranch hand making off in the darkness, one animal at a time.

With the situation at hand, Lev had rather decided he didn't much fancy the idea of them deciding a Poe was something worth chewing on, and for all he knew, whatever lurked in the Shadow Temple was personified evil, so he made ready to defend himself. His lantern roared to life, flames jutting out the sides like a blowtorch and he began to twirl the lantern around on his chain, creating a ring of fire and steel that would have absolutely incinerated any keese caught in the way. "Watch my back, yeah?" he called to the others. "I've got this side." he said, punctuating the point with one of the keese getting struck by the lantern, forcing it to the floor, body burning and bones broken. A second didn't veer off in time and had its wing engulfed in flame, causing it to crash, shrieking in agony. The remainder, however, managed to avoid the worst of the flames in the somewhat narrow corridor without harm, but their momentum was certainly interrupted.

Jaege stood his ground, and whacked Keese as best he could with the torch he had pried loose. If he hit, the force would shatter the Keese like a bird against a window, but hitting was another thing. Meanwhile, Veitaru was significantly below the face level of the majority of the party, and had difficulty reaching with only a dagger. Three of the keese fell victim to Jaege's mighty torch. They crumpled to the ground with pitiful shrieks. One impending keese managed to dodge Jaege's attack and deliver a painful bite to his arm before kicking off of his flesh with it's tiny claws-- returning to the air.

Felicia forgot all about the existence of the sword at her hip as the four keese descended upon her. She held one arm up over her face and shouted out in alarm as she uselessly waved her other hand over her head. If she hit, the force would merely push the keese a bit to the side. As the first keese sank it's tiny teeth into her forearm, she screamed and tried to rip the creatures off of her as they bit and scratched.

Of the five remaining keese, three remaining in front of Lev-- flapping and screeching in annoyance as they tried to find an angle to attack without ending up like their two unfortunate friends. The other three were instantly drawn towards the loud wreck of a woman standing between Jaege and Lev. They beelined for her with gleeful chittering at the prospect of an easy meal.

"Surprise!" Lev shouted, his arm angling forward and directing the lantern towards the keese, which then began to eject flame in an intense torrent towards the three flying annoyances in front of him. The sudden change in attack and the narrow confines of the corridor all but assured that escape would not be possible for the keese, who were quickly engulfed in a flesh-rending blaze. When the fire died down, three charred lumps were left smoldering on the floor. "Well, that's... oh." he began to say cheerfully before realizing the predicament Felicia was finding herself in. Already covered in bites, Lev swooped in to try and shield her with his own body, swinging his lantern at anything that was physically away from the young woman.

In the distance all that could be seen of Noi was a vague silhouette. His effectiveness wasn't clear, but his rage was. He swung his hammer in every direction seeking only to destroy the monsters. Every now and then the hammer would be driven into the wall making the entire tunnel shake. With a furious roar Noi dropped the hammer and began to glow blue. Electricity arced off of him zapping all the keese left in the air around him. When the light faded Noi toppled sideways into the wall, six dead keese convulsing on the floor around him.

"Energy levels: Uhhhhhhh..." His voice transitioned back to its more human tone as he spoke.

Meanwhile, Lev managed to swat all but one of the keese off of Felicia, who had since fallen to the ground, quite thoroughly covered in bites and scratches. With two hands, she gripped the furry body of the last keese, which had locked it's tiny fangs onto her cheek. She pulled, grimacing painfully as the creature tore through the skin before losing it's grip. She pushed it away and held her cheek, suddenly realizing why her assault had ended.

"L-Lev!" she shouted with her new-found cognizance.

The four keese flapped angrily above Lev and his lantern-- some of them managing to scratch at the poe's already-tattered hood.

"Hang on, Fel-OW, GAH!" Lev shouted, suddenly aware of the flying rodents clawing away at his head. For an entity without nerve endings, it turned out the afterlife still let you feel a considerable amount of pain and discomfort. He swatted at them with his free hand, not wishing to bash himself with the lantern or set himself ablaze by accident. "Stop! Geez, I have no nutritional value, you little-"

And success! Managing to grasp one of the keese by its wing, Lev pulled it away and began to swat at the other creatures with their friend. Whether it was effective or not remained to be seen, but it felt good.

Veitaru managed to finally make herself useful by stabbing one Keese while it tried to get a lower angle at Jaege away from flamey hitty thing. It was a kinda weak stab, but fortunately a keese is kinda weak too being built like a bird. Jaege finally managed to swat the last of the Keese attacking him, but not before it got in a nasty bite that someone should probably clean out. Keese bites probably got infected like none other.

Felicia winced as she watched the keese attack Lev. He'd stepped in to help her and now he was in trouble! Surely there was something she could do....

Reaching around her waist she grabbed hold of the small metal tackle box dangling from her hip, unfastening the buckles. With as much strength as she could muster towards another living being, she swung the box towards the keese attacking Lev. It was so preoccupied with dodging it's captive comrade that it failed to get out of the way. Unfortunately, Felicia's heart, in spite of her desire to help the poe that had graciously saved her, wasn't in it enough for her to do anything more than knock the keese onto the ground.

The creature quickly began to recover, but before it could raise up from the ground, it found itself consumed in a torrent of flame. The remaining Keese didn't fare better; now they were separated from Felicia and dislodged from Lev, the flying rodents were easily dispatched with another quick burst of flame. Soon, the tunnel fell silent, save for the cackling of flames and the arcing of electricity. Lev pushed a finger through a newly formed hole in his hood, tisking at his misfortune.

"For our first time out, I'd say that went pretty well. Pretty well, indeed. Hey, Jaege, can you go check up on ol' Rusty up ahead? He seems like he's overexcited himself." He called to the man. Instead of watching to see if Jaege or even Veitaru reacted, Lev floated over to Felicia, looking over at her wounds. "Y'know, if someone told me that you could fight off a bunch of blood sucking monsters with a tacklebox before today, I'd call them a liar. Thanks for showing me something new. C'mon, our adventure's still ahead. Hard to look heroic when you're sitting down in the dust." he said cheerfully, offering a hand for Felicia to pull herself up, hoping she understood that she'd have to do most of the work. Symbolic gestures counted for something, right?

.:: ℤ𝕖𝕝𝕕𝕒 - 𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 ::.

@Captain Jenno@Furia@jasonwolf@Chanda@Dervish@DearTrickster@Bright_Ops@The 42nd Gecko

Please try to wrap up your posts by tomorrow guys! Tomorrow night (PST) I'm gonna be wrapping those fights up for you. I'd also prefer not to be the one to post all of the collabs as well, so if someone from each group could volunteer for that?

@Baklava