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2 yrs ago
Current Fire Emblem. But STILL on a forum.
4 yrs ago
Fire Emblem. BUT ON A FORUM!
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7 yrs ago
Roleplaying is the only thing that gives meaning to my mediocre existence. And cookies too.
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8 yrs ago
Wants to be a saikyou hero.
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Bio


I am a rather middling RPer who likes to believe they are actually at an advanced level. This is of course, nonsense created by my desire to be known as good at something. In otherwords, I'm kinda okay at things and stuff.

Most Recent Posts

ZARIF & ETOR -- C RANK SUPPORT

Zarif sat upon Salador as the small band slowly made their way back from the ruins, coin purses a fair deal heavier than before. Two sat in the Ox-pulled wagon, the rest spread out around it, brandishing weapons. He inspected the walkers, wondering if they were jealous of him, up on his mount. He pulled up alongside one of them.
"You there! You are the one called Etor, truth? You had fighting well, newcomer" Zarif complimented in his still imperfect Akkadian dropping with his mysterious accent
Etor surveys the land as the ruins are just a blip in the background. He perks up when Salador pulls up beside him. He squints to better understand Zarif as his ears always try to decipher unfamiliar words. It was an habit he was not aware of. The young spearman spoke slow and loud. Loud enough that practically everyone on the caravan heard him. Not because he assumed Zarif was deaf but because he was naive.

"Yes! Truth. I am Etor. I am still learning the ropes. This has been good for me."

He points at Salador. "Thank you for letting me ride. How did you two meet? Was Salador always a friend to you?"
"Learning the..." Zarif muttered to himself, perplexed. Does he think himself a sailor? Like those that sail to the ilse of giants for their tin?
"Ahhh, Salador! Yes, good friend, he is. Of always he has been, since I was but a lad of two and ten. In my homeland, all who would travel the shifting sands has a friend such as this! It is not so, in this land of gold and gods. It is a sadness"
Etor never realizes that the sayings in his common tongue perplex the mounted man. He continues the conversation moving past the perplexed look on Zarif's face.

"2 and 10? The shifting sands sound like a great place. Is it close maybe we can take a mission there for a small homecoming celebration!"
This boy is as dense as a rocks of the northern straights! Zarif got a frustrated look on his face as he eyed the smiling spearman.
"Do you not know your numbers, boy? 2 and 10! Together." He dug around in one of Salador's saddlebags, and produced a little abacus, waving it around for emphasis. "Addition, my boy! Do I need to teach you maths after Siris teaches you to march?" The merchant sighed "And the shifting sands... To the west, past the kingdom of the Pharaohs, there is a desert that seems never to end. Those are the sands of my words. There is little and less there for anyone. Nothing to celebrate, I assure you. I come from a land across that endless sea of sand"
Zarif bore a peculiarly forlorn look on his face as he finished, looking to the west, where the sun began to set
"Oh 12! That won't happen again!" Error says with gusto as if addressing a superior.

*"I haven't been taught much so if you would teach me I'd appreciate it." This time with responds with excitement at the possibility.

He listens as Zarif speaks of his Homeland. He didn't say anything afterwards. He patted Salador softly and looked to the west with Zarif towards the sunset



IDDIN & SIRIS -- C RANK SUPPORT

“Iddin, I wanted to give you a portion of my earnings. If it wasn’t for your aid I might not have been able to buy all my armor, thank you for your assistance but I can now luckily repay my debt.”
Iddin counts the coins carefully. The amount is correct. The priest hides it away in his robes and sighs, looking Siris dead in the eyes.

“Next time you pull a stunt like that, you won’t be able to pay me back. Understand? Now I hope you have a good reason.”
“Well next time ill be sure to have killed the enemies before you notice then” Siris says with a wink
Iddin pauses for a moment. He speaks in measured anger.

“Are you this recklessly stupid by birth, or by a lack of consequences in life?”
With a small chuckle, Siris gives a big smile to Iddin
“Lack of consequences, but if I continue growing stronger then maybe those consequences will never come…. However, I will be more careful not to put the team in danger so recklessly again.”

Thinking back to the healing Iddin gave him earlier, Siris cringes his face a bit.

“Just next time, maybe be a bit more gentle with the healing hahahaha”

Iddin scowls. Clearly, this child wasn’t getting the point.

“There won’t be healing next time. And certainly no more lending. I don’t give money to dead men walking.”
Feeling a little annoyed at his companions continued remarks, Siris decided to strike back. Taking a small step closer to his Iddin, he slightly lowers his voice

“Don’t think that I didn’t notice you on death’s door, if anyone was the closest to dying then it’d be you. I’m a warrior Iddin, I can survive on my own in combat need be; but you? Unless you intend to pick up a sword, I wouldn’t threaten me knowing I’m what’s standing between you and judgement.”

Siris turns around before any more words can be said, although as he walks away he realized that he might get in trouble or even kicked out of the group for what he told Iddin. Pretending as if he hadn’t realized, Siris raises his right hand and waves it as he keeps walking away

“Of course, you protect me and I swear I’ll protect you.”

Hurriedly getting out of Iddin’s sight he lets out a sigh, wondering if he was about to get kicked out of yet another group.

Iddin clenched his fist, takes a few deep breaths, and lets his anger simmer. This idiot endangered the entire band, and lords over with the injuries Iddin got has a result of those very actions? And threatening to kill not only his fellow mercenary, but a superior officer? Iddin mutters as he formulates a report to Captain Doan.

“The idiot couldn’t even hold formation… a complete feral mutt… hardly suitable for human gruel, much less wages… next time he runs off to commit suicide, let him… damn kid…”




ZARIF & SIRIS -- C RANK SUPPORT

Having made camp, the mercenaries were spread out around their campfire, some in tents, others warming their hands against the cold desert night. The foreign quartermaster approached one such, whom was sitting off to the side, about to begin first watch.
"Oh poor, poor Siris. Woah is he, Siris the blind! Siris the..." He hesitated, trying to think of the word, "Unlistening! Poor, poor Siris, who cannot be of listening to his quartermaster. No rations for poor Siris the Unlistening unseeing rudesoldierwhoignoreshisquartermaster" The merchant mocked as he turned on his to walk away, snickering at his own wit
“Hello to you too Zarif. You know if you gave me some food I might be able to keep a better watch instead of focusing on my hunger” he says loudly, trying to get Zarif’s attention before he walks too far away
"Poor rude Siris, poor poor unsorrowful Siris. Too proud to ask forgiveness, for ignoring his friend deep within the blue devil's dungeon. Such a tragic figure is the pride-blinded one" Sings Zarif mockingly
“Let me get this straight, you’re more mad that I ignored you rather than the fact I rushed towards the enemies?” Siris says with a laugh.

“I might’ve misjudged you Zarif, and I’ve still got to thank you for that ride at the beginning of our attack. Allow me to make amends” he says as he stands up. Siris walks up to Zarif and extends his hand.

“I apologize for ignoring you, as well as thank you for the ride. I’d love to ride that strong horse of yours again one day”
"With your life's water, you may do as you will. You swore your sword not to me, friend. But do not ignoring those who name you friend, else you may see soon you have none" The merchant took the soldier's hand and nodded, but soon raised an eyebrow
"Horse? Bah! Salador, Siris names you a Horse!" Howling with laughter, the foreigner looked over at his lifelong animal companion. In my home, we have no such beast as "Horse" Nay, no such eastern creature trods the long sands so tirelessly, with so little water."
”Zarif you talk in an… interesting way!” Siris says, laughing once more

”So his name is Salvador is it? That’s great, a fine companion for a mighty warrior.”

Letting go of Zarif’s hand, Siris hits his closed hand on his chest.

”Do not worry friend, I don’t usually ignore anyone normally. The tense situation had me a little on edge, next time we will have a merry chat while slaying our enemies!”




CHAPTER II: OF LOYALTY & SILVER




More than a week's travel through the sparse greenery of the Zagros mountains, following the snake-like river Karkeh the Hellions ford their way through territory unsavory to the common Akkadian, wanting nothing more than to put the thought of that strange archaeologist behind them. It was neither the harsh sun, nor the small game, nor the roving bears that brought their ire down upon the unsuspecting travelers, but the Kassites. Tribal peoples in and beyond the shield-wall of Zagros, practically unassailable by the Akkadians who deem them little more than barbarous and uncivilized. No doubt the great Šar Kiššati would rather see their kind smote from the mountainsides like that of the Yeeks that share their home.

Luck, the greatest asset to a soldier of fortune, as the lady of luck would have it, their very own Lyun had been bourne and molded in the the dry heat of these hills. Not merely versed in their tongue, but their culture as well, the beast of a man found them safe passage to the foothills, just as he'd done before. Through the rocky landscape tread they, seven men and one beast of the desert, their formation reflected that of the stars they marched beneath. A constellation foretelling the tragedies of their future, the tragedy of any mercenary.
ASHÜR: "There. Just cresting the hill. What haste we've made." Unwearied by the long march through rough terrain, the bandit bears some light affectation in his voice, uncharacteristic of his normal pessimism. No doubt all due to the ancient ashen Vital Powder offered to him by Lyun. He'll be back to his old self before the morrow' no doubt.

Regardless, indeed as the band ascended a hidden path up a stony escarpment, they're greeted by their still, familiar banner. Three wild dogs wreathed in flame, the Hellions of Gyr. The temporary campsite is a quiet one, none are disturbed by their arrival save one, from the small palisade surrounding the camp, a hushed voice calls down.
NINIL: "Etor, Lyun, Makeen. . ." The young whatchman's voice trails off amidst the soft crackle of torchflame. They can make out the girl counting across her fingers and quickly darting her emerald eyes back down toward them. "Well look'at that!" She exclaims. "You're all still alive. The captain can't sleep as usual, guess you lot better pop in and say hello!" She chuckles, waving the gang in as they make their little greetings with Ninil more formally, similarly put at ease to see her in just as good health as always.

Sure enough, communal yurts of goat-hide were set-up around the confines of the camp, lit by the dull smoldering flames of a still-living fire. Enough to house all twenty-two of the Hellions, optimistic as it was, it was a note that they'd make sure of with any camp of theirs. Better to take one down in memoriam than the quiet sadness of having never accounted for the dead in the first place. The seven take their time, casting aside their worn gear and the burdens of their travel. Before too long, some of the band part the folds of their commander's tent.
DOAN-NASIR: "Hale and whole, I presume?" The man's gruff voice reaches his underlings from where he sits upon earth, cross-legged. His eyes are mostly shut in a simple contemplation with a few fingers in his beard. Before him, a longspear of bronzed metal is stuck into the soil, a skullcap thereon. "The Hellions are twenty-one now in flesh, sixty-two in spirit. La'um has passed." The scent of olibanum slowly embered is thick in the air. The band pays their respects to their fallen comrade, yet they do not allow their death to linger on the mind. The ever-bandanna-ed bandit is the first to speak.
ASHÜR: "Doan. About our task. . ." He begins, though is quickly cut off by the captain raising a hand.
DOAN-NASIR: "You'll have to debrief on it later, for now I've a matter I'd like your thoughts on." He produces a clay tablet thereupon which orders are enscribed. "This job comes directly from Akkad. . . And it strikes me more like a commandment than an offering. 'for the sum of 10,000 Aurum, The Hellions of Gyr will subdue the dissident ensi Yasub-Yahad of Der and quell rebellious elements. . .' Dissidents." He mulls over that word, lets it percolate in the band's heads. "The pay is amenable, but still I am conflicted. Let your cooler heads prevail over mine -- Akkad is aware of our position to no surprise, and since we're at the doorstep of Der, they don't simply want us to investigate and capture, they're telling us to sack the city. A difficult job to be sure."
ASHÜR: "Der. . . The city bears a long history of integration with the Kassites, they say Yasub-Yahad is descendant of them as well. Our Šar Kiššati must fear the idea of so-called barbarians encroaching upon his pristine empire." The bandit muses aloud, mostly for the benefit of the younger Hellions more than anyone else.
DOAN-NASIR: "Precisely. Spilling blood like this leaves a poor taste in my mouth, but 'tis a choice between that or let it be dryer than the sands." Doan replies, his half-shut eyes open wide to gaze past the desperado and towards the brute of a man. "Lyun. I would not ask you to come along for this task, should we accept. But I must ask for your perspective -- your kinsfolk have always held firm to their mountain pastures, if our orders are to be believed, what would make them deign to seize Der and incite Šar Kiššati's wrath?"

Finally, Captain Doan poses the question to the rest among them, each of the mercenaries with their own set of scruples, moral codes, and lust for battle. . . "We've no longer than half a day to send correspondence and commence the operation. Should we accept?"
GESTIES: "Damn it. . ! Bastard. BASTARD!" The forlorn Scorpion struggles but yet still cannot move his body. "I'm gonna find ya." He seethes, leg still glued to the first step of the dais, where the blood of his comrades runs thick. His fist waivers with the sickle blade in its grip, "I'm gonna kill ya. . . For what you've done to my band!"


KASTILUS?: "Perhaps you should have aimed your fury at the Hellions and died with your companions then?" The sage as Gesties referred to him, raises an en-robed arm while the other begins to trace a pattern in the stagnant, iron-tinged air. The man's body begins to turn translucent in the darkness.


GESTIES: "SAGE!!!" The merc cries out.


KASTILUS?: "Unlike the Hellions of Gyr, you have nothing to blame but your own weakness. Farewell!" A plume of azure flame the likes that illuminate the subterranean chamber engulfs the scholar, seemingly burning him painlessly to ashes, leaving no other trace of his presence.




After a brief delay of watching the man languish in his utter defeat and deconstruction, the Hellions count their coin and gather themselves for the trek back into civilization. Somewhat uncharacteristic of him, the bandit, Ashür, is the first to address the otherwise broken figure of Gesties.


ASHUR: "Come you fool." He says at first, drawing again the length of his curved bronze blade. "Or perhaps you'd prefer we assent to Kastilus' words and send you to join the others. Hm?" The tip of his sword nearly reaches the man's hairless forehead, but is quickly battered away.


GESTIES: "I could not. . . I would not join you." The merc replies, rising from his knee. "I cannot forgive you Hellions for this. But neither could I turn back to the Scorpions, facing Shulaar, surviving this travesty. . . I am despicable." Gesties voice trails off and he's the first one to leave the Ziggurat. Shortly thereafter, the Hellions do the same.


ASHUR: "My gut tells me that I do not wish to see that scholar's face again. Even if the pay is so good. . ." The man addresses the rest of the band as the falling sun greets their flesh, "Let us make for the rendezvous with Captain Doan at once, this place gives too deep a chill in my bones."




And so the band began their long trek back through the rough Zagros mountains towards the city of Der where their captain and the rest of their men would meet them, their coin-purses a good bit heavier than when they'd arrived. With the falling sun at their backs and the rising moon ahead, the Hellions trudged on through the badlands toward their next horizon and towards the day their blood would dry up in the dunes.


CHAPTER 1-2 COMPLETE!

'D-Damn it. . .' The voice of the purple enshrouded marauder eeks through alongside a spittle of blood. He grasps tightly the gaping hole in his abdomen from the blue-haired merc's speartip. It is of little avail. As his life drains down into the ancient cobbles, collecting in channels, glistening in the dim torch light, he musters a few more words, "Enki, why have you cursed me. . ?" He raises again the blade in his feeble grasp and takes a single step more towards Etor who blocked off his only retreat. "Just a boy." They croak with an eye sealed shut. He charges, "Can you live with all the death you deal!!"

Etor sidesteps the man's final act, and fells him with one last thrust. Etor gains 34 XP.

Across the tight, musty passages of the Ziggarut, now rife with the stench of Yeek bile and man flesh alike, Makeen cracks open the other coffer of stone. His treasure-seeking fingers digging quickly within the confines to grip around an old bug-eaten pouch. There's still the remenants of a stark white grainy substance within, dryer than the desert dunes. The mere whiff of it sends the thief's head into a brief rush. -- Makeen found VITAL POWDER! (( One time use consumable that permanently increases the VITALITY of the one who uses it by +2 ))






KASTILUS: "You've done exceptionally Hellions." The scholar of weary countenance muses aloud. His words reverberate in the depths of this once great temple. Each of the mercenaries, though haggard from their string of battles with the detestable Yeeks and the Scorpions too, they've managed to see yet another job to its conclusion without the dead to carry upon their shoulders. Or so perhaps they believed. . .

"Love, war, beauty, justice, politics. . . Inanna, goddess of these things bore the gallu to cast down her consort, Dumizid the Shepard, to Erṣetu for the pleadings of her blood-lusting cult." The crimson-black concoction of Yeek and mercenary essence seeps slowly, like that of honey from the comb, down the many carven channels of olde between the Hellions feet, heading toward the central dias from which Kastilus stands. He continues his history lesson while counting out the coinage for which to reward them. "For failing to mourn Inanna's passing they did this, their hatred having summoned her back from Erṣetu, and her heart corrupted by the failings of man, together these things drug Dumuzid down to the bleak. But one thing remained here in this mortal world -- the Crook of the Shepard."

Crimson coalesces deep into the cracked sandstone, blue flame gouts from braziers across the chamber, illuminating the mercenaries and their employer in ominous light. "Sealed by the massacre of grudge-bearing men, so too could it only be unsealed by way of a bloody grudge!"




KASTILUS?: "The Hellions of Gyr and Shulaar's Scorpions. . . It would seem your spite for one another was enough." As the flash of fire dies down, replacing the frail archaeologist's tattered clothes are royal robes trimmed in golden runes reflecting the divine language. In the same moment, the dias for which he stands shifts, dust plumes into the dank air and a little unceremonious crypt for which a long decayed skeleton holds a gnarled etched staff. In one enshrouded hand he grips tightly upon the artefact he saught after, prying it from the grip of the long dead. . . "I can always trust the hearts of humans to never change."


GESTIES: "Wait a minute. You damn bastard! You were that sage!!" Suddenly the balding Scorpion raises a fist, while retrieving the blade he'd dropped to the ground in defeat. "You sent us on a wild goose chase to die?! Traitor! Blackguard! I'll kill yer freakin' ass!!" Gesties ascends but one cracked stone step before he finds his body completely numb. He's unable to muster another movement, even despite the fury that smolders within him.


KASTILUS?: "You could say that. But the truth is, whoever succeeded was irrelevant to me." Producing a coin pouch from his robe, he tosses the money that was promised toward Iddin. "I'll most definitely have work for you in the future." He adds with pursed lips.


Hellions recieve 2800 Aurums!



AGGA: "Ama-Ama-Sin!" The awful faced brute moans as the first axe enters his chest, he struggles to fight back but in his heft, is unable to do a thing, or make a single difference. As the next axe flies, Agga falls to his knees oozing a fountain of lifeblood out into the cobbles below, in hast the concoction finds its way into the subtle channels chiseled into the stone. "You. . . You Hellion fuckers. . . We'll haunt you. . ." He groans, collapsing dead.

Lyun can just make out another of the Scorpions in the shadows beyond the mess that is his foe's corpse, they bare their fangs, their brows furrow with all the hatred that they could muster.



Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the the pitched battle further on beyond the few sounds that echo back to him, Makeen pries the latch from a stone coffer from days of old. He leans over it with avarice in his eyes. Within, a sword that appears practically hewn from a slab of polished smooth stone. He takes it, feeling a meagre sense of artifice, of thaumaturgy within its antediluvian confines.






FOES












SCORPION PHASE




GESTIES: "Bastards. . . Bastards!" He cries, yet while taking a step back all the while. As each of his prior comrades falls, their hollow eyes begging for aid, he realizes that through his inaction, he has already betrayed them. With a roar, the bald man charges the nearest Yeek priest, with all his misdirected rage, he hacks the ensi's head clean off. "That sage sold us to our deaths. . ." He mouths, turning about to protect himself.


GESTIES attacks YEEK ENSI #2 with his BRONZE SICKLE SWORD, killing it!


YEEK WARRIOR #11 attacks GESTIES with its GNARLED SPEAR dealing 8 damage!


GESTIES counterattacks, dealing 8 damage and killing the yeek!


GESTIES barely resists YEEK ENSI #3's WORD OF STONE!



KASTILUS: "All for good reason. . ." He bemuses to no one.

The swordsman staring down Lyun quickly exchanges himself in the dark with another of their band, yet more arrows trained on the brute. Another is let loose, unable to deflect it, yet more ire and blood is spilt between the two mercenary companies, another retaliatorily flung hand axe marks the end of their enemy's life. All while footfalls echo through the small tunnel. Out of the shade, the last of Shulaar's Band here in the ziggurat skids to a halt before Etor shocked by his appearance to ambush the ambushers.


SCORPION BOWMAN #2 attacks LYUN with their BRONZE SHORT BOW for 9 damage!


LYUN counterattacks with his BRONZE HAND AXE, dealing 16 damage and killing them! He receives 33 xp!




HELLIONS PHASE





AMA-SIN: "G-Gaaah. . ." A guttural sound escapes his lips as red quickly swells about his cloak. 'How could things change so quickly. . ?!' Zarif's arrow had struck true, embedding itself into the Scorpion's back, narrowly missing his heart. Simply put, it seemed that the Hellions, even as harried as they were, still stood a league above. Leaving his knife behind in Lyun's wound, the bloodied merc begins to squeeze what little motes of strength he had left to flee down the entryway. His footfalls quickly vanish into the dsrkness abound, beyond the purview of the focused mercenary band.

"You think to escape? I'm afraid that's not part of the bargain dear friend. . ."


AMA-SIN: "That voice. . . T-The sage? Where are you?!" He clutches the gash at his chest, only to slam into a wall, xrumbling to the ground.

"Die here with dignity, you can do that for me, can't you?"


AMA-SIN "S-Sbulaar. . ." He wheezes, a sudden shock tearing through his body as those fingers dig into the cracked sandstone. As the man dies, his blood seeps, filling little channels on either side of the hall, 'neath murals of ancient warriors marching to their judgement.

[Hr]


ASHÜR: 'Behind. . .' He mutters, his voice low and harsh, just enough for the hot-blooded warrior to hear him, along with his footfalls. As Siris bore the brunt of the rival sellsword's blade, Ashür caught him unawares, darting in to sever the viscera of the man's throat. In the instant of the figure's fall, the desperdo called out, "Lyun! The ugly one!" His cautious eyes having scanned the field afore quickly and concisely. Thereafter he turned, to the Yeeks beyond, and to Gesties the same as Zarif cursed.

ASHÜR attacks the SCORPION SWORDSMAN #1 with his BRONZE CURVED BLADE, killing him and receiving 34xp!


[Hr]


Gesties was many things -- A drunk, a braggart, a womanizer, and a crappy mercenary, yet he was no fool. As Ama-Sin fled, dying in the dark, while another two of his comrades had fallen, he couldn't help but feel his hands shake with that blade in their grasp. Picking himself up after being battered by Siris, he rose to Zarif's words, "B-Betrayer!? I had no idea! I was certain they'd all been killed!" It was all he could muster in that moment. Only then did his last words seep into his bones, now indeed they were to fall. But perhaps not all of them. . . Or so he'd hope.



For the young men among the Hellions, Etor and Makeen, little chambers open up to their gloom adjusted eyes. To the thief, a trove of olde coffers, precisely what he was hoping to see -- certainly happier to be knee deep in the treasure hunt while his seniors wade into battle. While on the other side of the complex 'neathe the sands, the spearman finds naught save a pile of rubble ever so precariously stacked in the wall ahead. . .



"Hellions! Ahead our aim is in sight." Kastilus' voice is held high, echoing well through the squalid halls. With a spring in his step, the scholar bounds up just behind Siris, similarly placing himself under the gaze of the yeeks beyond the shadow, nevertheless, he continues to speak. "The final resting place of Dumuzid. . . Ahh, I can make the tomb out just ahead. Onward--!" As he cries out, the sound of crumbling sandstone draws his eye, he sucks upon his teeth.

With a mighty heave from that mighty man, the broken up wall comes to an end, revealing the warrior's suspicions. As the others trudge ahead to meet with last vestiges of Yeek-kind in the Zigguarrat, the roar of hidden foes splits their attention.



AMA-SIN: "Damn. . ! We won't lose the element of surprise, cut those Hellions down once and for all!" Shrouded both in the royal purples of the rival merc band and the gloam of the ancient temple, a fierce-featured lithe figure gives the call to advance.




FOES












SCORPION PHASE









AMA-SIN: "So. . . That Sage was right after all, to think we could take our revenge today. . !"

The rival mercs begin to funnel out from the hole moments after Lyun had revealed their hiding spot. Without delay a bladesman charges past the broad shouldered brute and hacks deeply with a fell motion into Iddin's left shoulder. A spray of crimson marks the renewed flames between the two bands.

SCORPION SWORDSMAN #1 attacks IDDIN with their BRONZE SHORT SWORD, dealing 12 DAMAGE! IDDIN recieves 4xp!


An arrow pings out of the crumbling dark, the sharp sting of metal embedes itself deep into Lyun's shoulder as another of the Scorpions stands at the piled rubble, before the figure could knock another arrow they're nearly bisected by a hand axe flung with all might, felling them in one swoop.

SCORPION BOWMAN #1 attacks LYUN with their BRONZE SHORTBOW, dealing 9 DAMAGE! LYUN recieves 3xp!
LYUN counterattacks with his HAND AXE, killing the SCORPION BOWMAN #1! LYUN recieves 30xp!



AMA-SIN: "Don't think we've forgotten what happened at Larsa, you animals!" A hide-wrapped man with a penetrating eye darts past his fallen comrade. Unable to react in time through the pain of his wound, another sharp sting of metal finds its way into the man's abdomen. Yet even so, the stalwart warrior is able to bring another hand-axe quickly to draw Scorpion blood all the same.

AMA-SIN attacks LYUN with their BRONZE LONGKNIFE, dealing 9 DAMAGE! LYUN recieves 3xp!
LYUN counterattacks with his HAND AXE, dealing 14 damage! LYUN recieves 15xp!


Still. . . Those ahead couldn't immediately snap around, those damnable blue-skinned freaks yet remained in the darkness of the expansive chamber beyond. Grumbled words of their god, Zuug-Agblish fill the hall as zealous fervour enrages the last of the Yeeks. One of the two patter down from the dias toward the scholar, yet a mere glare stays its weapon, sending it toward the man beside -- A gnarled spear finds its mark 'tween the gaps of Siris' armour, while Zarif deftly parries the next. With a will, they strike back.

YEEK WARRIOR #11 attacks ZARIF with its GNARLED SPEAR, missing!
ZARIF counterattacks with his BRONZE SHORT SPEAR, dealing 9 damage! Zarif recieves 7xp!


YEEK WARRIOR #12 attacks SIRIS with its GNARLED SPEAR, dealing 4 damage!
SIRIS counterattacks with his BRONZE SHORT SWORD, Killing it! SIRIS recieves 18xp!


Another of the foul priests steps down from the central platform, raising up a fetish of their petrified god, another incantation of guttural speak fills the room. Here and there, Siris can feel patches of his skin begin to calcify, yet quickly he manages to shake it away.

YEEK ENSI #3 casts WORD OF STONE upon SIRIS, but he manages to resist!


Were that not enough, the hastily cobbled together wall to the east of the main corridor began to rumble. Iddin could only just snap his head to see new shapes in the darkness.


AGGA: "Hey-Hey-Hey-Hey! Gesties we thought ya were Yeek food! Grahahaha!" The stout figure of squat and hideous countenance bore an axe about the size of an average man upon just one of his shoulders, evoking the same image as the Red Yeek slain just before. "The hell yah doin' with 'em? Com'on lets kill these dogs!"


GESTIES: "Y-You guys! Damn, I thought all that blood was yours! Figures that Shulaar's Scorpions wouldn't die to some mangy rats." The bald man hefted up the sickle sword he bore, twisting his head back to the others. "Y-Yeah. . . We'll kill 'em." He stammers, whether his trepidation was for the skill he'd witnessed or something else, none could say.



HELLIONS PHASE



Quiet shuffling through the dark. . . Even the cautious and experienced among them could hear their own kit rattling in the din of sound amongst those sandstone cobbles. The three ahead can feel the still air in the buried zigguarot, the low-ceiling corridor opens up into unknowable heights beyond. Like a great cavern or the edge of the shore -- They cannot fathom what dwells therein, or where, that trepidation stays their feet in slight.




FOES








ALLIES





HELLIONS PHASE







Gesties: "'Preciated." Again he managed to wheeze, the pain of his wounds remaining despite the restoration of his flesh. To Makeen, perhaps with a voice low enough that others could not hear, even in the echoing cramped sandstone halls, he says this, "Never would I have expected to thank a Hellion for my life." There's no malice in his words as before. Gesties stands firm once more and tightly grips his blade, with another nod to the sneakthief, he heads onward to join the group ahead. 'Damn. . . Where are they. . . Where are my comrades?!"

GESTIES MOVES TO 11-19



Ashür: "The line is thin indeed." He muses aloud to his fellow foreigner in Zarif, "Bravery has no place in the life of mercanaries."

ASHUR MOVES TO 9-18

KASTILUS MOVES TO 10-20




FOES








ALLIES





HELLIONS PHASE









FOES








ALLIES





HELLIONS PHASE








Gesties: "S'pose I owe you times three now. . ." The gruff rival merc muses aloud, nearly knocked on his ass once more beside Makeen, the boy having distracted that nasty little javelineer enough to save Gesties from the next death-knell shot. As Zarif's arrow whizzed overhead, barely having cleared that shiny dome of his, the man manages to pick himself up. "S'pose I could owe you a fourth time, Hellion?" He breathes another ragged breath.



Ashür: "Hmmph. . ." He merely sighs at Siris' response. It wasn't the time that the bandit felt the rash boy-warrior thought he could take on the whole damn world. It was like poison to Ashür's cynicism, bringing to the front of his mind days better left forgotten.


Bright-eyed as ever, Etor makes the point of covering every square inch of the Ziggurot's confines, lest yet more of the filthy blue Yeeks be lurking. . . And perhaps on the off-chance that some ancient treasures still lie here. Captain Doan would surely praise his shrewdness. Whether for better or worse, the chamber is empty, beyond the stink of the creatures' little den, without mentioning the contents of their guts spilling over across the slick sandstone.



Etor's gesture seemingly lost upon the scholar, he makes his way between the vanguard and the heart of the Hellions there, ever moving with a certain unfaltering leisure.
Kastilus: "Yes. . . Yes. . ." He mumbles aloud, his dark eyes moving from one wall to the next, "This would have most definitely been the procession hall. In days-long passed, representatives of each polity would have come before Dumuzid here, a primitive seat of power when put against the silver-plated Uruk perhaps. . . The main chamber should be but ahead." He makes no real attempt to remain hidden, nor for his words to do ought but echo down the tomb of old.

The rival merc sneers in response to Lyun's command, though only after the brute has turned away down the left branch. Wouldn't want to incite the ire of a man who could heft a cyclops or two across their shoulders. . . Rather than following the tanned goliath's words to the T, Gesties halts himself cautiously just before the path heads east. 'I'm not stickin' my neck out for these dogs.'

Gesties moves 4 tile to 11-25



Ashür moves forward with a slow gait, trying to focus his haggard eyes to the dark of the ancient crypt. He catches the shadowy form of the brash young one in red dashing on before something catches his eye just beyond the purposefully slow advance of their meat shield. . .

Ashür: "Curse that damn Scorpion. Siris! You fool!" He manages to shout, albeit a hair too late.


YEEK PHASE




FOES








ALLIES




With Siris far enough out of position, and the eastern crevice left wide open by Gesties idea of self-preservation, first another little gremlin dart outward, timing its charge along with the other warrior that the merc chased down. Together they strike with their spears!

YEEK WARRIOR #6 moves one tile to the right and attacks SIRIS with its GNARLED SPEAR, dealing 2 Damage!
YEEK WARRIOR #7 moves six tiles to 10-23 and attacks SIRIS with its GNARLED SPEAR, dealing 2 Damage!

Still, despite being caught out in the open, those sickly little bastards' ambush was ablated some. Thanks to his breastplate, the two pointed sticks manage only to find small gaps and drain a handful of blood. In the moment, Siris finds his resolve to retaliate.


SIRIS counterattacks YEEK WARRIOR #6 with his BRONZE SHORT SWORD and misses, gaining 1xp!
SIRIS counterattacks YEEK WARRIOR #7 with his BRONZE SHORT SWORD and deals 12 Damage, killing it and gaining 18xp!


Another sticks their gnarly azure head out from the thin hall, surprising Gesties whose eyes had been on Siris. Without time to react, they throw a fashioned javelin from the safety of their alcove. Though it just flies wide over the bald merc's head.

YEEK WARRIOR #10 moves four tiles and attacks GESTIES with its GNARLED JAVELIN, and misses!

Lyun is met with opposition as well, thankfully his broad shoulders keeping the rats from scurrying out to swarm the younger Hellion further. One dives toward the brute with its spear, some vile mix of excrement and indecipherable substances slick upon the tip. While another Yeek abaft tosses its own javelin over the first.

YEEK WARRIOR #8 moves to 7-24 and attacks LYUN with its GNARLED SPEAR, dealing 6 Damage!
YEEK WARRIOR #9 moves to 6-24 and attacks LYUN with its GNARLED JAVELIN, dealing 5 Damage
LYUN counterattacks YEEK WARRIOR #8 with his BRONZE HAND AXE and misses! Gaining 1 XP
LYUN counterattacks YEEK WARRIOR #9 with his BRONZE HAND AXE and deals 16 Damage! Killing it and gaining 18 XP


With no other options left, the last remaining Yeek Warrior toward the beginning lashes out towards the triumphant merchant, hoping to put the human down and leave Salador masterless.

YEEK WARRIOR #4 moves to 10-31 and attacks ZARIF with its GNARLED SPEAR, but misses!
ZARIF counterattacks YEEK WARRIOR #4 with his BRONZE LONGSPEAR and deals 10 Damage! Killing it and gaining 18 XP



HELLIONS PHASE








Gesties: "This is for my band you little freak!" Only now, the purple-wrapped Scorpion adheres to Lyun's words, moving up to strike back at the worm that caught his attention.

GESTIES moves to 11-24 and attacks the YEEK WARRIOR #10 with his BRONZE SICKLE SWORD dealing 8 Damage!
YEEK WARRIOR #10 counterattacks GESTIES with its GNARLED JAVELIN dealing 7 Damage!


Unflinching towards Gesties cries of pain, Ashur pressed on, saddling up besides the younger merc. In a fluid motion he both draws his curved blade and deftly cuts forth.

ASHUR attackes YEEK WARRIOR #6 with his BRONZE CURVED SWORD, it's a CRITICAL HIT! Dealing 12 Damage! Killing the yeek and gaining 18xp

Ashur: "Those wounds will only continue to grow if you should keep charging ahead without thought. If not for your own life, think of the band, your family, your recklessness will put us all in danger. . !" He makes certain those words cut deep though with a hushed intensity lest they draw even more beasts out from the dark. The dark for which the two Hellions find themselves near on isolated from the rest of the group.


Kastilus: "Tarry not, tarry not, dear Hellions, my prize should be only just ahead."
The scholar muses now that the band has all but cleaned up the rear, moving a few steps down the cracked cobbles, gently so, that the soles of his leather bound shoes do not become so sullied in fetid bloods.
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