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Post by Bard "Dual-Strike" Alrikson on Mar 8, 2015 21:51:16 GMT -8
Nervousness in the face of potential danger had never been a fault one could apply to Bard. Fear had its place, and that place was firmly leashed and collared in the minds of those it afflicted. The former soldier was ready for an attack, anticipating the possible in-routes such an assault would come from, and available escape routes if necessary. His eyes constantly wandered back to Wynne. She was a liability, but he had made her so. Still, he couldn't have anticipated this; How was he supposed to know they'd be dragged into a mess in the middle of the night? He'd already decided that covering Wynne was to be their first priority, and he picked up his pace to come up along side Malavai, just a few paces ahead of the inebriated ranger. "So we're on the same page," He muttered, just loud enough for the young lord to hear, but quietly enough that Wynne would likely ignore it or miss most of their discussion, "Wynne's good, but she's drunk. I'm lousy at playing support, so if trouble comes for us, you need to be the one at her side." Bard wasn't sure how he felt about this decision. More than anything, part of him wanted to be the one to stand at his former lover's side and ensure her safety. However, another part of him knew that he was simply not the best man for that job. "I'd do I myself but..." but Bard didn't know if he'd be able to control himself, if he'd be able to restrain the murderous instinct that seemed to take hold of him whenever he found himself in battle. "But you're the better man for that job." It pained him to admit that, no matter how necessary such a confession might have been. He'd have to trust Malavai, like Wynne did. Knowing he was Gwyneth's brother somehow made that easier for the Bridgeburner to place his faith in the younger man as well.
Bard glanced back over his shoulder at Wynne, then his head swiveled to survey the alleyways they were passing. He immediately realized that something was very, very off. Normally, he'd have seen at least a few vagrants by now, the homeless men and women who frequently made their beds in the alleyways and side streets of Vertholt. So far, he hadn't caught sight of even one. That set his teeth on edge. If there was a trap or ambush headed their way, then someone had likely put out the word, and the streets had been cleared. Anyone who wanted to avoid a messy stand off had high tailed it to safer pastures. Raising his voice a bit so that Wynne could hear him as well, he said "We need to get off the main road. Something's off." His right hand came to rest atop the head of Ice, the metal seeming unnaturally cold to the touch, even in the frigid chill of the night-time air. His eyes were making constant sweeps now, ears straining to catch the first sounds that might herald a coming ambush. Bard was ready to act if necessary, whatever that might entail. He just hoped his companions were equally prepared.
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Post by Raewynne Cousland on Mar 10, 2015 19:12:26 GMT -8
Malavai was a little disturbed to find Bard shuffling up beside him, but it didn't exude from his exterior -- he remained a calm, calculative mind. Besides, he was expecting him to be an assailant, much more relieved to discover it was his ally. Still, it meant he wanted to discuss something without prying eyes or ears; soon, it became evident the larger man wanted to talk about Wynne's behavior without her knowing. He'd keep a low voice while his eyes remained wary, ever-observant in case of an ambush. "I think that's a fair idea." He was usually the bait or the guardian, so he didn't see much of a change, there. He just wouldn't act as a distraction if Wynne needed it; truthfully, she wasn't in any shape to wield her weapons with nigh accuracy and he wasn't willing to chance getting an arrow to the knee to prove the point. They resumed walking, Malavai attentive to Bard's concerns, but equally focused on their environment. And, well, he'd to his best to reassure the man, put him at ease that his lover would remain unscathed. "I'll do my best, you can count on it."
The eeriness of the night was undoubtedly unsettling. Bard must have caught on as well, ushering with haste to move off the main road. "Perhaps that'd be favorable." He nodded and muttered for Wynne to also hear, one hand moving to grasp the hilt of his sword while the other moved to draw the shield from his back. He inched closer to Wynne as if for her protection, before gesturing now with his shield-hand. "Let's head into that alleyway. I'll go first. Wynne, follow me. Bard, take the flank so they don't attack from the rear." Once barking the order, he moved cautiously toward the entrance of the alleyway to the left, making sure none were lurking inside it. Assuming the coast was clear on all fronts, Malavai would resume his trek down the side-street, prepared to defend himself and his comrades if need be.
The woman huffed and she puffed, crossing her arms over her chest. She wasn't daft, wasn't oblivious to the 'manly' discussion ahead of her. Whatever they were talking about, they didn't want her knowing. Those bastards! It irked her slightly for the moment, until she realized that it wasn't all fun and games, this was serious. They were on a mission! They -- She had to focus! Slurring an incoherent word, Wynne waited until they were finished 'wooing' each other, rolling her eyes underneath the shadow of her hood. Then they resumed to press onward, of course prior to Bard mentioning they should steer clear from the main road. She didn't say much, mainly because she didn't want to interfere with the bromance (yeah, she's kind of delusional at the moment), stumbling into place as the middle-man. She'd draw her own daggers for her own protection, sticking closer to Malavai than Bard, mirroring her Sentinel's movements, unless they were intercepted by the enemy. Although drunk, she'd hone her abilities as much as she was able to defend her crew -- even if it meant she was less graceful and more clumsy. But, that couldn't mean she was entirely ineffective, right?
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Post by Bard "Dual-Strike" Alrikson on Mar 10, 2015 22:24:07 GMT -8
Bard stopped near the entrance to the side street, letting Malavai lead the way, and nodding to Wynne as she walked past. He followed, taking up the rear and drawing both axes into his hands with a slight hiss of steel on Eiphyre as the handles passed through the holster rings. Bard kept looking over his shoulder, keeping an eye on the entrance to the side street and trusting Malavai to be watching the exit. As they neared the middle of the street, the thing they'd been worried about made its appearance. Three figures were stepping into view at the other end of the street, drawn weapons gleaming in the moonlight. "Shit..." He growled, turning to make sure the other end of the street was clear; It was not. Three more men were stepping into view, quickly moving towards them. "Malavai! Push forward!" He shouted, moving away from the group and rushing to engage those approaching from the rear.
They could not be trapped here. They could not be stopped. Maybe the thieves had underestimated the trio. Maybe they were only expecting two people, not three. Whatever the case, six men, even in an ambush, didn't scream Execution squad to Bard. This was a delaying tactic, they wanted to stop the three from reaching the Thieves' base of operations. If they allowed themselves to be bottled up here, in this alleyway, anything could happen. Maybe there were more thieves waiting nearby, maybe there were more enemies lurking on the roof tops. That did not matter. Bard decided they needed a bold opening move, something to break the charge from the rear, and Bard had just the right move in mind.
Bard focused, taking a deep breath. His long legs would make closing the distance a trivial matter, but there were three armed men and the side-street wasn't wide enough for him to engage the way he was used to. Instead, he drew deeply on his power, shuddered bodily as he felt a dread chill run up his spine. A thick cloud of icy fog puffed out from his nostrils as he exhaled. With a flourish, the old veteran began flipping the axes by rolling his wrists. The frigid power extended from his core, flowing down his arms and flooding into the weapons, until mist began rolling off the heads, flowing away from the weapons with each revolution. Now no more than a meter or two from his quarry, Bard brought the weapons up, sliding his hands along the hafts until he gripped the weapons somewhere near the middle. His arms crossed his chest, before separating in a vicious sweep. As the axes swung apart, the Eiphyre magic flowing through them reached out into the night air, drawing in water vapor and spiraling it into sharp, jagged, 4 inch spires of ice. Eight in total launched, four from each head, and seared across the distance, aiming to take the charging men at chest height.
Bard didn't have time to worry about Malavai and Wynne yet, he had to trust their own abilities.
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Post by Raewynne Cousland on Mar 15, 2015 20:34:36 GMT -8
Trouble found the trio. That was evident upon inspection of the road ahead. Near the exit, Malavai noticed three men lurking, waiting... or lunging on the offensive. Malavai didn't look back, but Bard mentioned his suspicions. Yelling at Malavai and Wynne to push forward meant one thing: more were surfacing at the rear. "I have this, Wynne. Stay back and be careful." The ambush they had been preparing for finally arrived, much to Malavai's dismay. Mustering his courage with a deep inhale of air, Malavai drew the sword from its sheath, moving to defend himself and Wynne. He was the first to near the exit of the side-street the trio entered, ahead of Wynne for her own protection and to thwart off the incoming assailants. He'd utilize sword and shield to the best of his ability -- it had to be best, lest they face an injury or something; and that certainly wasn't a risk he was willing to take.
Wynne found herself 'double-taking' for a moment. Back and forth, her head swiveled, standing side-ways in the side-street so she could witness both groups of assailants attacking from each end. Rubbing the nape of her neck, she grumbled coherently, moving with Malavai as he uttered his intentions. Despite telling her to stay back, the woman drew those daggers at her hips, taking a stand-by support stance. She didn't like letting Malavai handle it himself -- if she saw an opening, she'd certainly take it. Nearing his flank, off to the side a tad, Wynne would make sure Malavai wouldn't throw his life away. She'd step in... always -- it was her duty, after all. Time had thankfully rolled along, and she found herself sobering up ever-so sluggishly, but even still, she felt it was a bit of an improvement -- maybe the adrenaline was replacing her drunken stupor? She hoped.
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Post by Bard "Dual-Strike" Alrikson on Mar 19, 2015 8:03:45 GMT -8
Bard was surprised to learn their assailants were not simply run-of-the-mill thugs. Though the lead attacker fell backwards, screaming, as a pair of his icicles punched through the man's leather armor, his two compatriots skillfully evaded or deflected the others. Two attackers, one Bard. "Oh, this is gonna be fun..." He murmured, the low, drawling accent of his home town slipping into his normally Vertholt dialect. They clashed about ten feet from Wynne and Malavai's position, weapons ringing against each other in the frigid air around them. Bard parried a diagonal slash from the assailant on his left, while his right hand brought the blade of his axe up to hook the haft of the other man's stout javelin. The action jerked the weapon's pointed head away and to the right, negating what would have been a potentially lethal stab by an otherwise competent opponent. The two disengaged and swapped places as Bard took a defensive stance. His left leg inched forward, the right easing back. He bent slightly at the hips and knees, lowering and centering his gravity as He brought Wind up in his left hand, arm slightly outstretched and weapon tilted horizontally, gripped midway up the haft. Ice rose up alongside his head, held aloft in a vertical grip as he aligned the edge outward for maximum effect. "WELL COME ON THEN, YE PUSS SUCKIN' VERMIN! I AIN'T GOT ALL DAMN NIGHT!" His voice bounced off the walls around them, a booming echo meant to intimidate and frighten his enemies. If they were impressed in anyway, they did not show it. Instead, they lunge forth, sword sweeping low, spear thrusting high. Bard bent back and away from the spear-thrust, the point flashing past his nose as his left arm jerked downward, hooking the edge of his enemy's sword and stopping the slash mid stroke. As a savage, near-feral smile crawled across his lips, the un-armored wielder of Jaa Ja Tuuli weaved up around the spear's retreating haft and swung Ice downward in a sharp, cleaving angle at the swordsman's arm, a strike that would have ruined or removed the limb for certain, had not the man's partner swung the butt of his spear up to deflect the strike, allowing both to retreat a half step and regain their footing and composure. "Thieves, Ah fookin' HATE thieves. Yer'all a bunch of flighty little vipers." Bard growled as he regained his defensive stance, worried about Malavai and Wynn, but knowing the two could handle themselves. "Not a bit of order to anything ye do. Bandits'll at least line up and fight, but ye thief-y types always gotta have some trick up your sleeves."
By now, Wynn and Malavai would have realized they were not dealing with amateurs. As Malavai stepped out of the side-street and onto a main road, a morningstar slammed into his upraised shield. Though effectively blocked, it was a blow made by a very large and powerful man, already rearing back for a second strike. The brute looked to be head and shoulders taller than Bard, and at least twice as wide in the chest, built like a barrel of ale. Wynne, angling to Malavai's side, would be presented with the opening she so seeked. With the big man's arms reeling back for a second downward strike, his chain-clad torso was open for a strike. Her daggers would have no trouble punching through the rough iron armor, but she had to watch herself, as rounding behind the man was HIS partner, a thin slip of a woman wielding a pair of short, curved swords. She lunged at Wynne with both blades, overlapped at the tips, right leg outstretched, left back in a Fencer's stance.
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Post by Raewynne Cousland on Mar 21, 2015 22:26:15 GMT -8
Malavai staggered slightly at the collision against his shield, but he quickly shifted the weight of his footing to recover. Despite being small in size, Malavai, too, was fairly strong -- he boasted a wide strength, a tank of his own accord. And, well, he knew time was of the essence; to stall inevitably meant being closer to death. The burly man in front of him was readying himself for another strike, Malavai had to be swift in his counter. As he was gathering his wit, his eyes had a rough display of the skirmish around him. His ears could hear the sound of Bard fighting and shouting in the distance, but from the corner of his peripheral vision, Malavai saw Wynne off to the side, a little bit behind him. Not only that, but he caught glimpse of the female surfacing from behind the man. While Malavai didn't have time to strike at the opening given, he assumed if Wynne was able and capable, she theoretically could; the only problem was the woman challenging her. So, as if to stall the man, Malavai flung his sword forward, muttering. "Bind, Atonement." With that command, his sword shifted shape, lunged out at the man in the form of malleable tendrils. The tendrils aimed to wrap around the man's elevated arms and his shoulders and torso, hardening if the wrap-around was successful -- the location of the tendrils would limit the movement of the man's arms so that the morning-star wouldn't retaliate at this form of binding. Now, if all was successful, Malavai just had to hold him as long as possible. This action would give Wynne time to deal with the thin-slip of a woman, at the price of somewhat leaving himself open, but he hoped Wynne would deal with her swiftly. Controlling this man would be, for lack of a better word, a bitch.
Her intoxication was slowly drifting away with the sudden prospect of death. Wynne could hear the sound of battle behind her and Malavai and could only assume Bard was hard at work defending them from the flank. Guilt was starting to creep up on the woman -- why did she drink so much, knowing she could be called out to perform a mission? Although she felt ashamed, she needed to brush those emotions aside; battle was upon the trio and she needed to help in any way possible, drunk or not. It was a perk to be stationed to Malavai's side, slightly; she had a direct opening to the hulk of a man Malavai faced. That was, if only the slippery female-opponent didn't appear from behind her bulky partner. While the woman fenced, Wynne clutched her daggers firmly, taking a swift glance at Malavai when she suspected he utilized his sword's ability -- from the corner of her eyes, she suspected as much. Even drunk, she knew he was a potential sitting duck, a target for the woman, like the giant of a man before them. So, she thought of the only thing she could do and that was stun the woman and, if able, take the man out. As the woman took a fencing stance, Wynne titled her right blade and pointed, muttering almost inaudibly, "Stiúdú." The high-pitched, unheard frequency would be released off the furl and shape of the blade, angled away from Malavai and the hulk of a man, but targeted at the defensive woman. Assuming it'd reach her ears, she'd fall prey to disorientation, possible nausea, imbalance of equilibrium, dizziness and perhaps she'd stumble. And, if that coast was clear, she'd make a swift lunge toward the hopefully-pinned hulk-man, left dagger throttling forward to pierce the area of his chain-mail where his heart lay. Hopefully, hopefully, both Malavai and Raewynne would prevail in their efforts.
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Post by Bard "Dual-Strike" Alrikson on Mar 23, 2015 11:05:42 GMT -8
Malavai's binding was aptly timed, catching the man's arms as they reared up past his head, then tightening to prevent them from coming back downward. The weight of the big man's morning star threw him off balance for a moment, but Malavai's stance resulted in him acting as a load-stone and righting his opponent's stance in turn. The hulking brute grinned and began rearing back, trying to drag Malavai off his feet. His efforts met with little success, however, as the combination of Malavai's broad build, heavy armor, and shield helped keep the big oaf under control. It could not last forever though, as the man adapted with each failure. After a few moments of effort, he managed to pull Malavai from his feet, lifting him a good three inches off the ground. It could have been a successful maneuver, if not for the intervention of Raewynne.
Her own opponent, eager to finish off her apparently drunken nemesis, lunged forward with a piercing thrust. However, she underestimated Raewynne's control and focus. Her eyes widened in shock as the piercing tone reached her ears. As the fencer stumbled and wobbled, her sword dipped and missed the Banshee. The woman staggered off to the left and slumped against the wall, recovering quickly. That mattered little though, as Raewynne got the opening she'd needed. The man's exuberant attempts to draw Malavai off balance altered the lay of her blow. Instead of a fatal thrust to his heart, her dagger pierced into the chain mail and raked a deep, bloody slash from just under his ribs, and then curving down to his hip. It was not deep enough to kill him, but the giant bellowed in pain and staggered back and away from the alleyway, dragging Malavai and Wynne down with them.
Bard was laughing. Bard was thrilled. Bard was having the best godsdamned night of his life! Adrenaline surged through his veins as he lost himself in the fervor of battle. His heart raced as the spear wielding thief stepped forward, making several fast, piercing jabs at Bard's face, but the veteran warrior back-stepped carefully, the grip on his axes sliding down to just below the heads, so that the sharp Eiphyre blades curved over is knuckles. Bard raised his weapons in defense, using sharp, quick jabs to parry and deflect the man's attacks away from anything important. The spearhead glimmered in the moonlight, then flew off into the dark alley as Bard brought his axes together at different points along the haft, halting it then snapping the head from the spear. The man cursed as Bard planted a foot in his stomach and shoved him backwards, then quickly sidestepped as the swordsman man made a sudden thrust, missing him by about an inch.
It was then they all immediately became aware one, very obvious fact. With the twang of a bowstring, everyone in the fight realized they had forgotten that they were going up against not five thieves guild assassins, but six. He had moved to the high ground, scaling a small, one-floor building. He held a massive yew bow in his hand, and with the other was drawing another arrow to bare. His first sailed past the falling giant, missed Raewynne by a hands-breadth, and shot towards Bard's unprotected back. If Wynne made a sound, anything at all, it mattered little. Bard was already in motion, having had to avoid another slash from the swordsman. He heard the twang of the bow, the shriek of the arrow through the night air, and reacted. His left hand raised, axe gleaming and surging with power as it drew in water and ice molecules in the air, flash-freezing them in a moment to create a dense, hexagonal barrier of ice. The arrow was halted in its tracks, and Bard quickly leaped back and away, hoping not to be fired upon again.
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Post by Raewynne Cousland on Mar 23, 2015 17:32:12 GMT -8
All seemed in favor of the two when the man was successfully restrained, however, Malavai was abruptly lifted by the hulk of a man, what he assumed was due to a bit of trial and error. He tried his best to prevent that, but his strength and maneuverability could only last so long -- the height difference also had to equate to the probable result, too. While Raewynne was successful in at least harming the man, the struggle between himself and the enemy made her target off, slicing a gash from his ribcage to his hip, but not enough to cease the man's existence. As the man staggered and fell back, Malavai would be flung forward as well, almost looking as if he was going to fall atop the man; he was, but his mind was thinking swiftly of the situation. Recalling the state of the blade mid-fall, the shape returned to the sharp sword -- it might have also caused the man's own morning-star to backfire upon him, considering the force restraining it no longer existed and he was resisting by pulling upward and toward him. A flicker of his wrist and a shift of his body, he'd swing the sword down faster, tip aimed to impale the man in his chest, near his heart. Eiphyre was likely to leave a big dent in the chain-mail, right? His shield would aid, bringing it in front of his descending frame, should the man counter in some manner.
Malavai was a little preoccupied to deal with the archer on the rooftop, at the moment.
Her daggers had an enhanced cutting ability; as much as she wanted to take a tumble, she figured withdrawing the blade from the man's side would be simple enough -- but it wasn't to say she didn't stagger and stumble forward a bit with the descending man, before stumbling back from pulling her dagger out. Retracting the shank, she'd have both daggers in her possession once more, eyes looking for a brief moment to see if Malavai would be fine on his own. But, remembering the woman was still at large, she moved to face that direction, unintentionally witnessing the archer aiming for Bard while his back was turned. She had to admit, he had her frightened for his life, enough so that a shriek escaped her parted lips; however, when she realized her lover was saved by his own quick thinking and eiphyre weapon, Wynne sighed in relief. Was it possible Bard couldn't see her shrieking with the thick barrier of ice? Would that worry the man?
A little wobbly in her stance, she might have mirrored the woman she was now bound to face... but with the adrenaline and the exertion of her frame, she was feeling more sober by the minute. Things seemed clearer, seemed as if they weren't spinning much anymore. Bard's block of ice would likely prevent the archer from getting another shot in at him, so now would the foe direct his or her attention toward the duo on the other end? That was possible. She didn't think her sight was clear or straight enough to get a shot at the archer perfectly, so, she had to focus her attention on the woman recovering from the wail of her daggers. Hopefully, she'd be able to defend herself from any incoming arrow -- that, and maybe Malavai would regroup with her soon to finish them off as a team.
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Post by Bard "Dual-Strike" Alrikson on Mar 27, 2015 8:31:31 GMT -8
Wynne's terrified scream reached Bard's ears, but he paid it little heed. He could see that she was fine, and the second arrow had embedded itself in the ice alongside its twin. With his spear now useless for thrusting and stabbing, the man Bard had kicked was coming back up to his feet, holding the haft as if it were a quarterstaff. The splintered end dragged lightly against the ground as he whipped it around his center of gravity to bring the other end crashing down at Bard's head The veteran moved to block the strike with his right hand, but the maneuver was a faint. Instead, the spearman's strike halted midway, and the splintered end came shooting up to smack into Bard's gut with a meaty thud. The blow knocked the wind from Bard, sending him staggering back with a curse. He tried to regain his balance, but the swordsman was already moving to take advantage of his ally's clever thinking, his blade thrusting forward in a stab that Bard had to keep backpedaling from to avoid getting skewered. It wasn't good for him to be moving like this, forced into each step by his enemies as they pressed the attack. They were driving him back, away from Wynne and Malavai in what was likely attempt to divide and conquer. If they thought that was going to work, they didn't know Bard.
He stepped back over the lifeless corpse of the man he'd killed in the first engagement, then planted a boot on the body's shoulder and shoved hard, sending the corpse tumbling over the cobble stones and forcing his enemies to correct, lest they stumble and lose their own balance. Swordswinger went down hard, his foot snagging on the body's legs and throwing him to the ground. Spearman was much more fortunate in his endeavors, leaping capably over the tumbling body. He brought the haft of his spear whistling around to strike at Bard's left flank, forcing the Bridgeburner to deflect the blow with the head of one axe. The other end of that haft came snapping around, swinging at the crown of Bard's head. He swept under the blow, feeling the wooden shaft of the spear part his hair as it whistled over the top of his head. The axes in Bard's grip slid down until the heads were tucked over his knuckles once more. Three sharp jabs suddenly collided with the Spearman's body, gouging bloody gashes into his chest and stomach. As he stumbled back, crimson slime dribbling from between his lips, Bard brought his right hand up and drew the Eiphyre blade of his axe across the man's throat, finishing him once and for all.
The Morningstar would drag the giant man backwards, further hindering his abilities to prevent Malavai's attack. The young Lord's sword punched through the chain mail with ease, driving deep into the man's chest. His eyes widened in shock as his back hit the ground, and the point of Malavai's sword pinned him to the cobbles. The giant was dead, his brain just needed a moment to catch up with his body. Blood pooled beneath him, as an arrow pinged off of Malavai's shield. The bowman was still choosing targets, nocking yet another arrow to select his next victim, as the Duelist moved into Wynne's line of sight. She did not look pleased, but clearly she understood that the Banshee's blades were going to be troublesome. She took a defensive posture, waiting for Wynne to attack.
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Post by Raewynne Cousland on Mar 30, 2015 16:45:57 GMT -8
How fortunate Malavai was to prevail. Sighing in relief, which was ultimately too soon, considering the 'clank' of metal hitting his shield. Peering his head over the shield, he was surprised to see the arrow that laid beside the deceased man, gaze averting to what he assumed was the direction of the projectile's line. He found a figure above the rooftop, shouting so that Wynne could hear, "We need to take the bowman out!" Mustering all of his might, he'd utilize both hands to withdraw Atonement from the man below him before moving to back Wynne up. His eyes darted back and forth between the fencing-woman and the archer, before muttering quietly to Wynne, who was now juxtaposition of him. "I think I might be able to take the archer out -- be careful here." His sword outstretched in a defensive stance toward the duelist, his shield covering his front, Malavai would slightly step backward for a few steps before pivoting and beginning his swift trek toward the building the archer stood upon. Wynne would warn him if the Duelist decided to attack him instead, but for the most part, his attention was focused on the archer -- more importantly, who would his next target be? Better yet, how would Malavai catch the man?
If the man was on the ledge of the building or near it, Malavai hoped he'd figure out how.
Wynne wouldn't speak much, merely nodding in response to her partner. As the two duelists rounded each other, the Banshee made sure that she'd ultimately face the archer -- it'd help keep an eye out for any incoming arrows. Once the other female assumed a defensive stance, she figured the only way to make some sort of impact on the situation was to attack; however, she needed her wits about her, needed to be on guard. For one drunken slip up, or one missed reflexive evasion, she'd be dead -- by arrow or dagger, it didn't matter.
She had one thing up her sleeve, despite the woman possessing knowledge of her sound disorientation attack: the sharpness of her blades, its cutting ability far surpassed any regular blade. Eiphyre was definitely stronger than the standard metal of the time period, so when her left arm swung and she lunged forward, would the horizontal slash cut through the nearest blade, assuming the female allowed her blade to parry with Wynne's own? It was debatable, but worth the effort to try; her right remained close to her frame, its purpose for defense. Should she notice a counter, she'd utilize the dagger on level with her chest to the best of her abilities -- surely so, though, Raewynne hoped she could end it soon. Time was of the essence.
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Post by Bard "Dual-Strike" Alrikson on Apr 6, 2015 14:05:27 GMT -8
It was a bad night for Thieves, that much was clear. Bard was squaring off with his last opponent, the swordsman, who looked as if he were barely containing his rage. The veteran stared him down, left foot drifting back, body relaxing until he settled into a fighting stance, both axes up and in front of him, ready to react. The swordsman lunged forward with a series of stabs that were deflected as Bard carfully back-stepped over the cobbles. His motions were instinctive, targeting the attacks most likely to do harm, so that when he brought the hafts of his axe up in defense, nothing was wasted. As the man's momentum faltered, Bard took two swift steps forwards, pushing the attack. He swung first with the axe in his right hand, a diagonal cut from shoulder to hip that was blocked by the enemy's sword. Bard wasn't impressed. He used his own momentum and twisted the axe of his left hand until the head was facing towards Bard's back. He pivoted with the force of his first strike, and brought his left arm sweeping around to smash his war-axe through the man's defense. Staggered, the fellow was thrown back and off balance. As he was recovering, Bard stalked forward, flipping his axes round and round with a flourish of his wrists. He caught a look of apprehension in the man's eyes, and something inhuman stirred in Bard's soul. "What's the matter Thief?" He growled, coming closer. The man tensed and stepped back, retreating in the face of the cold-eyed murderer approaching him. "You chose this fight. You chose this. You and your friends chose to waste your lives tonight." The volume of his words increased with each one that escaped his lips. They never understood. They never fucking got it. It infuriated Bard when they tried to flee, when they tried to escape. There was, however, no escape. The man's back pressed into the solid sheet of ice Bard had thrown up in defense of the earlier arrow. It stood shimmering in the moonlight, sustained by the frigid air around them. "Do you want to die, fleeing like a coward, or do you want to die like a man?" Bard's tone was a brutal snarl, and steam seemed to huff from his nostrils as hot breath escaped into the winter wind.
The swordsman made a last Hail Mary pass, rushing forward with sword raised to slash Bard's head from its shoulders. As he closed, Bard exploded into action. His axes slammed together, clicking and locking as he began spinning the freshly assembled greataxe in front of him. One head slammed into the man's slashing blade before Bard's grip on the haft tightened, locked, and stopped the rotation of the weapon. With a sharp thrust of his arms, he brought the downturned axehead on bottom whistling up to jam the sharpened, tapered spike up into the swordsman's gut, under his guard. The Thief's eyes widened in shock, and blood bubbled up from between his lips. The Veteran's face was impassive, impossible to read. He waited until he felt the man sag as his knee gave out, then ripped the hooked head of his greataxe free, letting the poor daft bastard fall into a heap. Bard did not waste time examining the dead. Instead, he approached the shield of ice and began hacking away at it, so that he could join Malavai and Wynne. Men who became thieves and bandits and worse, they never understood the cold, hard truth of the world: If you lived by the sword, then sure as the sun sets, you'd die by one just the same.
The Duelist disregarded Malavai, apparently not concerned in his ability to capture the bowman, who was now focusing an arrow on the approaching fighter. His shot caromed off Malavai's upraised shield, but he knocked another, firing again, this time trying to aim over the shield. He lined up a third shot, stepping up to the edge and adjusting his angle until he could fire the arrow in such a way that it would land between Malavai's shoulders. The boy would have to be aware of the shot to do anything about it, and he'd have to be quick if he wanted to dodge it at all.
Wynne's opponent did not parry, instead jerking her blades up close to her body, edges still facing outward, and pivoted to the Ranger's left, going around the strike. As she came to face Wynne's flank, her arms glided up to lift her short swords up together before whipping them down at an angle. As they approached striking range, she altered the double-blow's trajectory slightly, resulting in a parallel pair of draw-cuts for Wynne to deal with.
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Post by Raewynne Cousland on Apr 14, 2015 13:57:32 GMT -8
Malavai had to be extremely careful getting closer to the man above whose skills became even more accurate with the Sentinel being in close range. The first arrow knocked off his shield again, leaving Malavai to one conclusion: he needed to angle himself so that he wouldn't be in harm's way. Avoiding the head-shot wouldn't be difficult, raising the shield above his head, he clung closer to the wall, eliminating the possibility that the archer could shoot him at an angle; for now that he was close to the wall, the shield would cover his entire body like an umbrella. Both the second and third shot would once again meet his shield. This also proved to be a good thing, possibly, due to the edge in which the archer now stood. Assuming there would be no arrows after the third, Malavai moved his shield slightly to peek up, swing his sword upward and mutter, "Bind, Atonement." His sword yet again shifted shape, lunged out at the man in the form of malleable tendrils. The tendrils aimed to wrap around the man entirely or any body part that it could, hardening in a restrain-type manner if the wrap-around was successful -- if so, Malavai's strength could pull him down from that rooftop, arm aiming to swing his blade downward so that it would effectively crash against the earth with the man in tow; of course, if it landed. Malavai's gaze remained skyward, making sure naught another arrow would grace his being -- he'd have his shield at the ready, trying to still keep his entire body in the protection of it so there wasn't a spot that was vulnerable. More or less, Malavai was even happy if he momentarily distracted the man so that his other compatriots could deal with him after dealing with the others. For now, he just aimed to be a distraction?
The inebriation was slowly wearing off with the prospect of death -- Wynne was trailing the woman's movements in a so-so-par manner; she'd pivot on her heels as the assailant aimed to flank her, luckily facing the attack during it's action. But, she wouldn't counter, instead jumping back whilst her daggers rose. Her daggers tried to stall and parry the approaching daggers, but as she launched backward, she grew further from the angled-parallel slash -- all in the name of creating some distance. She was hoping her daggers would graze the tips of the others, but for the most part she tried to be out of reach. While close combat was something she felt good enough in, she needed to be careful, as usual. Perhaps she was gauging the attacker's capabilities, for now?
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Post by Bard "Dual-Strike" Alrikson on Apr 19, 2015 5:41:19 GMT -8
Malavai's transforming sword might have been a neat trick, but the Archer had seen it used once already, and knew what to expect when the Knight drew close. The man lunged backwards, narrowly avoiding capture. His bow, however, was not so lucky. Malavai would find the weapon thoroughly entangled in his sword's magical tendrils. The Archer rolled across the roof top and started running, fleeing the scene of the fight. No doubt, the man was rushing away to report their failure...or worse, kill the only suspect Wynne and Malavai had.
The Ranger's opponent was a crafty, slippery bitch, quick on her feet and tougher than any of them seemed to have given her credit for. As her blow was parried, the Duelist followed through with the sweep of her blades, then used the momentum to come up on her left leg. With a twist of her hips, she lashed out with her right leg in a sharp kick to Wynne's solar plexus. She'd stepped into the strike to compensate for the distance between she and Wynne, but now the woman was going to be off balance. Even if she struck Wynne, the Ranger would still have the advantage.
In the back of the Alley, Bard was still hacking away at the wall of ice between he and the rest of the action. Growing irritated at how long it was taking for him to break through, he raised his weapon over his head, and with a great bellow brought Jaa ja Tuuli slamming down into the barricade with all his might. The Eiphyre metal cleaved deeply into the ice, sending fractures throughout its surface, cracks that ran deep and then split open, causing the wall to fall away. Bard stepped over the chunks of ice just in time to see Malavai's attempt at catching the Archer fail, and though he glimpsed Wynne in combat, he knew she could handle herself. Malavai would never be able to keep up with the roof-running Archer with the weight of the armor and weapons he carried...but Bard could.
Bard bolted forward, running down the alleyway at top speed. He slipped past Wynne and her opponent, eyes on the prize, and shouted to Malavai: "Eventine! SHIELD UP, I NEED A LIFT!" Hoping the boy would understand, Bard leaped high as he came in range of the building, though not high enough to actually make it to the roof. For that, he would need Malavai to raise his shield so that Bard could land on it, then use it as a boost to jump higher so he could make it onto the roof. If they could pull it off, it was possible Bard might get one last chance at preventing the Archer from getting away.
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Post by Raewynne Cousland on Apr 25, 2015 18:11:19 GMT -8
"Blast it all." He muttered between his pale lips, cerulean gaze watching as the archer evaded his lunging tendrils. Luckily, the sword managed to pick up the man's bow, which meant for the most part that no more arrows were to be fired. However, this left the man 'weaponless' and ultimately defenseless in his 'art'. While Malavai retracted the sword and bow captured within its tendrils, he noticed the man turning tail to flee the scene. "No... No." He stated with a soft gasp, sword returning to its regular state once it returned to his side. The bow would fall to the ground, and Malavai found himself debating methods to get himself up there -- he was going to either tell his compatriots of their failed attack or kill off the lead! He couldn't allow that... there had to be a way to stop him.
The Sentinel wasn't expecting to notice the charging Bard headed in his direction. The yell in his direction made him pivot on his heel, only to then catch his attention. "W-What?!" He stuttered to himself, but primed himself for the transfer, more or less. Bending into a crouch-like position, knees and legs corked to spring, his back remained erect to prevent injury. Malavai looked as if he was about to lift something terribly big... and he was. What Bard might not have realized was that Malavai possessed immense strength. It wouldn't be too difficult for the man. Sheathing his sword, he angled his shield so that when he'd push up and off, Bard undoubtedly graced the rooftop with quite the gusto. Maybe Bard wouldn't expect quite the leverage upward, but he'd effectively reach the top, which left Malavai to aid Wynne in ending the duelist.
Rearing and repositioning his being, Malavai drew the sword once more and mounted the shield appropriately in front of his body, resurfacing from the shadow of the building to let his presence be known. He was ready to help Wynne... and maybe that'd instill fear upon the duelist, being outnumbered and all.
The constant frequency of vibrations surely provided some advantage when the blades collided? In tandem with Eiphyre construction, it was definitely sharper than a standard weapon. Would the tips of the duelist's blades break? Even still, the duelist slipped, in a sense: lunging forward with a kick while Wynne gripped her swords in for close defense gave her an advantage. Redirecting any shift of her arms with the parry previously, Wynne allowed the kick to get close. Her arms motioned to make an 'x'-like gesture, blades aiming to cleanly slice through the extended leg. The sharp, cutting capability would aid in this endeavor; she'd only hope it was successful, because it also meant incapacitating the duelist, despite the attack a little too gnarly and cruel for her taste. But, sometimes circumstances called for such horrifying moves.
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Post by Bard "Dual-Strike" Alrikson on May 2, 2015 18:59:39 GMT -8
Bard was grateful Malavai had kept his wits about him, a fact that boosted his confidence in the younger Eventine's abilities. As the axe wielding warrior neared Malavai, Bard pulled his twin weapons apart, then leaped up onto Malavai's shield before the man was thrown into the air. Blast, kid's got some muscle on him! Bard thought as he soared upwards, angling his ascent and descent to make the landing. He stumbled, rolled with it, then came up in time to see the Archer leaping across to the next building. Bard bull rushed the edge of his building, right arm whipping back, then launching forward once more as he released the weapon in hand. The axe turned, end over end, as it flew through the air, and while Bard's aim was true, his target made an unexpected turn, and so the Axe cleaved not into his back, but into the back of his right leg. Injured, the archer screamed in pain and toppled over, clutching at his wounded leg in a panic as Bard leaped across the gap between buildings and approached, a murderous gleam in his eye.
Raewynne's blades would find purchase in the Duelist's leg, though did not prevent her foot from making impact with the Ranger's chest. The Duelist didn't seem to realize that her leg was now in two pieces, not for a long second after the fact, when she lost balance and toppled over, howling and screaming in agony, her blade dropped to the ground beside her. Wynne's attack had sheared off the limb midway up the thigh, and the remaining stump was now gushing crimson as the woman's femoral artery pumped her life's blood into the streets. Yes, Wynne had dealt her fatal blow: without the immediate intervention of a Healer from the Order of the Sun, the duelist would expire in very short order. The merciful thing to do now would be to simply put her out of her misery.
As Bard approached the downed bowman, the fellow started attempting to crawl away, casting a terrified look up at the towering figure above him. Without so much as a blink, the former soldier reached down and tore his weapon from the man's leg, eliciting fresh screams of pain from the wounded soul in question. "Quit your gods-damned belly aching, you worthless guttershite! It's a flesh wound!" He growled, sliding his axes into the rings that hung from his belt. He quickly leaned down and stripped the assassin of any other weapons he might have been carrying, tossing aside an assortment of knives tools. Finished, Bard reached across and took the fellow by the throat, growling. "Tell me everything. Tell me who sent you. Tell me who's responsible for the theft at the garrison, and tell me if the man who told you we were coming is still alive." When the man grew pale and began stammering, Bard shook him hard and bellowed "NOW, OR I'LL CHOP YOUR HAND OFF AND GIVE YOU A REASON TO BAWL LIKE A NEWBORN BABE!"
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Post by Raewynne Cousland on May 17, 2015 18:26:06 GMT -8
"Phew." He sighed in relief to see that his toss was an overall success, even if it had been a little too much. Gathering his stance, his eyes moved with the pivot of his heel and his attention faced Rae -- at the wrong moment, too. His visage winced at the sight: dismemberment of the duelist's limb. "Oh dear..." He muttered in disgust but knew well enough that this was common in battle. Still, he wasn't keen on gruesome deaths, but even that couldn't be avoided at times. Regaining a solid composure, he'd return to Rae's side, who seemed to be quick to finish the final blow.
Her leg surely made impact, but not as intended, one supposed. Being a little on the drunken side had fortunately desensitized her emotions regarding the gore; but she wasn't merciless. The screams echoed throughout the vicinity, piercing her ears -- a slice to the heart soon followed and she found that their enemies had been defeated, except for the man who fled the scene. She didn't want the woman to suffer as much as her ears, realistically, and put her out of her misery. Malavai was quick to return to her side. For a moment, the two stood in silence, seemingly fixated on one another, until Malavai broke the silence.
"We'd best pursue them; we don't know where this man might be leading Bard... or if he'll try and attack our lead." His wits and thought-process were nigh, and the two were soon off, following from the path below. They didn't have to walk far, seeing as Bard apprehended and halted the archer's escape. Thankfully. From below, both observed -- if they couldn't, it wasn't difficult to listen with the Minotaur's roar, of course.
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Post by Bard "Dual-Strike" Alrikson on May 17, 2015 22:36:41 GMT -8
The archer ceased his whimpering, but not as Bard had intended. Apparently, the injury to his leg had been severe enough to place the man in a state of shock, and so in response to the brutal warrior's roar, all he had was a pathetic groan, followed by his eyes rolling back into his skull as he lost consciousness. With an annoyed grunt, Bard dropped the bastard and wiped his axe blades on the bowman's cloak. Hearing the clank of armor and footsteps below, Bard poked his head over the edge of the building and grinned. "Well, good to see ya'll are still alive! Don't mind the screamin', the worthless git's gone and passed out on me." Looking back to the unconscious man, Bard snorted and rolled his eyes. "Either of you got an imaginative way of getting him down? I kinda got caught up in the chase."
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Post by Raewynne Cousland on May 18, 2015 15:17:10 GMT -8
"Good to know you were successful." Malavai stated with a soft smile, acknowledging Bard's efforts. Thankfully, they halted the fleeing archer and thwarted his plans of escape, murder or reveal of knowledge to the enemy. Returning his sword and shield in their respective positions along his person, Malavai smacked and rubbed his hands together, as if shaking off any dust. At the moment, he listened to Bard's words, mind thinking of a way to haul the man down. He could catch him, surely, so the Sentinel shrugged. "Let him go -- I'll catch him." Was the man dead or alive? Malavai was still making that assessment, but then he realized that Bard said something along the lines of him 'passing out'. "Maybe he'll awaken at the dawn of fresh pain from the drop -- gravity and all." Malavai was strong enough to catch the lad, especially if he was capable of launching Bard a great distance upward -- the size comparison was no contest, admittedly. He'd open his arms and bend his knees, as if to properly lift a heavy object. It wouldn't knock him off balance, mainly because he positioned one leg behind the other slightly. Awaiting Bard's action, Malavai stood attentively.
Raewynne was quiet, utilizing her role as an observer, but she didn't express the relief of Bard being okay. Instead, she gave an invisible smile -- given her cloak and hood -- witnessing the conversation between Bard and Malavai with a waning interest; mainly because the alcohol was still lingering in her system. Still, she was gaining her focus, lips allowing a small utter. "We should move quickly, otherwise we might not find the man we're looking for," Resting a hand on her adjacent hip, Raewynne anticipated that they'd be on the move in no time. She was glad that she was somewhat sober at the moment.
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Post by Bard "Dual-Strike" Alrikson on May 19, 2015 21:19:33 GMT -8
"All right, we'll be right down." Bard replied, grinning and turning about to retrieve their prisoner. While Malavai prepared himself for the catch, Bard went over to the man in question and scooped him up, one arm under his knees, the other behind the bowman's neck. Walking to the edge, Bard checked to see if Malavai was ready, then adjusted his aim and dropped the man, hoping for the best of results. As the archer descended, the old soldier slipped over the edge, clinging to it with both hands, and reached out with a foot until he found hold on a windowsill.
Carefully minding his descent, Bard made it safely to the ground, only slipping on the last foothold to land unceremoniously on his ass. "Oof! Sonovawhore..." He grumbled, pushing himself to his feet and rubbing at his tailbone. He glanced Wynne over, checking to be sure she was all right, but he saw no wounds to be concerned over, and so he turned his attention back to the archer. "Any luck over there, Malavai? Might be useful to get what information we can out of him, but not if it takes forever to get the bastard to spill." Bard didn't like being shot at, and he really didn't like it when people shot at his friends and allies. For the bowman's sake, Bard hoped he was cooperative.
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Post by Raewynne Cousland on May 24, 2015 12:49:05 GMT -8
The male with short, ebony tresses and sapphire oculars nodded to Bard's statement, position favorable for a catch. While the man would still fall and land hard within Malavai's grasp, the Sentinel hoped the reemerging pain would awaken the archer, which was what they seriously needed right now. Maybe there would be loud screams as if being murdered, but as of now, he was no use to them in his shock-coma state. It was a shot, he merely hoped the trio would be lucky in waking the lad up that way. Otherwise, they'd have to try a new tactic, or simply put him down -- but, it was imperative to extract as much information as possible. Malavai set the man on the ground, wary of him, but a little ignorant of his surroundings -- at least, he wasn't aware that Bard fell on his ass during his descent, but acknowledge that he was on the same level as them. He'd command the man, should he be awake, "You will inform me as to why you attacked us -- you will inform us of all you know about your little gang, and you will point us to where we can go... otherwise, we'll not make this nice and easy for you." It was the general start to a torture, he supposed -- and the more practical route; things could certainly get gnarlier, but Malavai wanted to prevent that, oh-so much. When Bard asked him how things were going, he was hoping the man would have spoke up about something now -- if not, they also had the man at the infirmary. For now, the Sentinel remained silent, watchful for the archer to indicate something important.
Back and forth, her eyes scanned, between Bard and Malavai as they conversed. She was watching carefully when the man was tossed, as well as when Bard made the trek down from the rooftop, eyes widening when he slipped and landed on his arse. Inaudibly gasping, it wasn't long until she tried to muffle laughter, finding that humor at this critical time was so unnecessary and uncalled for -- still, the semi-drunk Wynne couldn't help herself, finding Bard's mistake hilarious. So, she chuckled merrily for a few moments, probably strange with the circumstance, but eh. Her attention soon returned to the task at hand, but even then, she was trying to stifle little giggles here and there -- the noises coming off as choking snorts and what not.
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Post by Bard "Dual-Strike" Alrikson on Jun 3, 2015 20:23:27 GMT -8
If Wynne was laughing, then Bard had every confidence that she was well and sound. Grinning sheepishly, he dusted himself off and came to stand just behind Malavai's shoulder. The giant of a man folded his corded, muscled arms across his chest, widening his stance so as to look all the more imposing. There was a trick to such a thing, interrogation. The victim had to be sufficiently assured that, no matter what one of his captors might threaten or inflict, there was always someone waiting in the wings to do even worse. Seeing as Bard had murdered three of the man's compatriots, chased him onto a roof top, and thrown an axe into the poor bastard's leg, it was apparent that he was the best one of the party suited for that job. Well, that and Wynne was drunk, and Malavai was too pretty to be the bad guard in this situation. To the bowman at least, the armored lad probably seemed to be the one most likely to hold to a code of honor or law.
Squaring his shoulders and tilting his jaw down a bit, Bard fixed an ugly glare upon their prisoner. The man's lips seemed to drag downward in an ugly, menacing frown. Growling in a low, vicious tone, Bard spoke clearly: "Better talk, Archer. If you don't tell the boy what he wants to know, I get to have a crack at you." He grinned, rolling his head from left to right, then back to center. "You know how many bones there are in the body, bowman? Two hundred and Six. I guarantee you I can find a way to break each and every one of them." His lips quirked up into an ugly, brutal smile. "I'll start with your hands. You'll never hold a quill again, let alone a bow and arrow."
To his credit, the archer was made of sterner stuff than one might have thought. He met Bard's glare with a leering sneer of his own. "Your boy here ain't too bright, old timer." He turned a disdainful eye upon Malavai, sneering at him. "We attacked you because we were paid to, you stupid git. And you can both go straight to the Abyss. You don't know the kind of guild you're dealin' with."
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Post by Raewynne Cousland on Jun 6, 2015 11:58:10 GMT -8
"Hn..." Malavai sighed in irritation, tentatively listening to the banter between the Archer and Bard. It seemed the threat had no positive result. The man didn't seem convinced, nor inclined to share any sort of details -- interrogation might not have been the best route. Regardless of the current situation, Malavai did know the location of the 'wounded soldier', so that was the other alternative. Luckily so, the infirmary was also near the cell block for criminals and guard outpost -- in the event they weren't getting any information out of the Archer, they could arrest him for criminal activity. For the moment, he remained silent, debating the options. He felt it was imperative to seek out the other lead, in all honesty. "We're only wasting time. Our best bet is to lock him up and head to the infirmary. We can get more guards for the bigger arrest of this so-called guild." Malavai glanced at Bard and Wynne, his opinion on the matter stated. Now, he just needed to see what they thought of the situation.
Wynne was an observer, least along with the Sentinel. Bard seemed to be in good spirits -- and also malignant, brutal ones -- but that was a side she knew all too well to consider it out of his norm. She knew both sides fairly well, unless he changed, somehow -- he felt so close and yet so far away; it was a strange feeling, all in all. Then, Malavai had a proposal: lock this criminal up and proceed to their first plan or commence with the interrogation. In agreement with her partner, ultimately, she stood, but not before tying the man up with some spare rope. "Lock him up and head to our objective -- seems only logical and less time consuming, since this guy is being difficult." Tying his hands tightly, she looked to Bard, as if also seeking his approval. She didn't know what he'd do, but hoped they could reach an agreement.
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Post by Bard "Dual-Strike" Alrikson on Jun 6, 2015 16:21:29 GMT -8
Bard wasn't as easily convinced. The man claimed he wouldn't talk? Bard knew otherwise. "Stand aside, Malavai, I can make this quick." He dropped down to one knee, strong hand reaching out and locking tight around the thug's right wrist. Bard wrestled the fellow's hand up, stepping on his other wrist to keep him subdued. "Tell us where your gang is." Bard commanded. He grabbed the bowman's thumb and, with a single, powerful motion, jerked it forward and back, wrenching it from the socket with a brutal snap. The bowman howled in agony, and bard's hand reached out, clapping shut over his mouth to push his head back against the cobbles. Scream muffled, the man resorted to sharp, rapid inhales of breath and pathetic whimpers. Bard leaned down low, close, and in a very quiet voice murmured: "Tell me where your little gang is hiding, where they're going, and that's the last time I'll touch you tonight. I gave you a chance to do this the easy way, to give me the information I wanted, and instead, you chose to refuse. These are the consequences." He grinned and leaned back, still riding the battle-high that plagued him after each battle. He could run it out, mitigate it's effects, but he needed a target, and he needed it now. No waiting. No negotiating/ The Minotaur's fingers closed around the bowman's index fingers and squeezed tightly, beginning to apply backwards pressure, the strain forming, and just before Bard finished, the man bubbled out a gasping plea for mercy, and bard halted, lifting his hand away from the archer's face. "Rat's Nook..." Came the horse and terrified response. "They're operating out of an abandoned Inn called Rat's Nook. You can probably still catch'em if you go now, it's five blocks south! Please, I don't know anymore. Take me to the lock up, I'll confess to everything."
Bard released the man's finger and stood slowly, wiping his hands on his pants. "Rat's Nook, then." He said, rolling his shoulders. A small, wicked smile tugged at his lips, and it seemed the old soldier was standing a little taller than he had before. Back straight, shoulders squared. He had a mission, and it was a beautiful night. "Wynne, you and Malavai should take our prisoner to Lock-Up. Check on our suspect and keep him safe, I think it's safe to assume someone's coming for him. If he's not there, or in no danger, you can join me at Rat's Nook." The trail to this place lead straight past Bard's inn. If he ran, he could make it to the inn, get his armor, and head straight to the Target. They couldn't afford to let the suspect come to harm, but if someone didn't delay the bandits, they'd never be caught. "I'll go delay the criminals at their lair, you bring the back-up as soon as you can."
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Post by Raewynne Cousland on Jun 10, 2015 8:58:39 GMT -8
Malavai brushed past Bard as he moved closer to the Archer, turning his gaze away from the scene -- this was still wasting time and effort, so he surely hoped that the Minotaur wouldn't fail in his endeavor, whatever the case may be. He didn't really desire to witness the breaking of bones, so he resumed to fixate his gaze on the road ahead. He figured, in a sense, he could stand guard while Bard attempted to get the man to talk. Yeah, that was what he was doing. While his eyes remained covered by the horror, his ears were not; the obnoxiously loud cracking and snapping of his thumb irritated his hearing like metal along metal -- it was a terrible screech, one he wish he could have muffled entirely. The roars of agony weren't pleasing, either; thankfully, Bard quieted the man down, somehow -- his methods were elusive to the man who didn't wish to observe the barbaric torture. He knew some things were mandatory, but perhaps this occasion could have been preventable? One thing perked his ears: Rat's Nook. An abandoned inn, five blocks south. Hm... thinking about it, Malavai concluded that, considering the compliance of the man below them, one or two of them had to escort him to the jail cell, while another ambushed the grounds. It was an unfavorable outcome, but rather than have this man die, he could testify against the crooks. That, and whoever went to lock him up could take a peek at the 'injured guard'; assuming he was still around. Bard seemed to have the same plan.
"Very well. We'll be quick." The archer, who was weaponless and defenseless, more or less, would be scooped up by Malavai. He howled in pain, both because of leg and thumb, before subsiding to small sobs -- He held the man so that he dangled along his backside, and promptly began to move. Raewynne wouldn't be far along, at least he thought. He had nothing more to say, motivation driving his course toward the infirmary and jail cell.
She didn't grimace or turn the other cheek -- Wynne watched, a disinterested look upon her visage, which was obscured by the hood. Truthfully, she didn't like the idea or torture itself, but it was necessary, sometimes. She was still ever so reticent and silent; watchful and awaiting for any clues the archer might reveal -- although no one could visibly see, her eyes seemed to illuminate when the archer, defeated and broken, gave in. Sometimes, torture was extensive and took longer, but she was happy it ended rather quickly.
While she disliked the idea of Bard going off alone to the gang's hideout, Wynne couldn't leave Malavai to handle the task by himself -- more could be waiting along the bend -- he was defenseless, caring a fugitive. He could use the backup. Turning to Bard, she'd say coldly. "You better be careful." It was slightly threatening, in a way, but she worried. With that order, she trailed Malavai, the two moving quickly down the road to the infirmary and jail block.
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Post by Bard "Dual-Strike" Alrikson on Jun 15, 2015 13:41:33 GMT -8
Malavai didn't approve of his methods, Bard could tell. For some reason, that bothered him a bit. He noted the cold, detached way Wynne had watched him work, and knew at least she undertood the necessity. It wasn't something Bard enjoyed, it wasn't something he actually took any pleasure in. He'd met torturers like that: Men and women who knew more about inflicting pain than they did their own mothers, and loved every minute of it with the same fervent glee, but Bard was not one of those. He had principles, he had a line. Would he have really broken every bone in the man's body? No, of course not, but it was important that his victim believed with his whole heart that Bard would and could follow through with any threats made.
He hid his discomfort from the others, bearing it well enough, but when Wynne told him to be careful the facade nearly crumbled. His lips tugged down into a small, remorseful frown. The tall man wanted to tell her not to worry, to reassure her,but the cold tone in her voice told him that nothing more than compliance with her order would win any sort of trust from the woman he loved, and so, as she stepped away, he could only think of one thing to say in reply: "You too." He doubted they were the words she wanted to hear, but they were the only words he had for her, and so as the Ranger and her companion parted ways with Bard, he turned, and began a quick jog home.
The Inn was quiet, dark, but the back door was left unlatched for him, and a lantern lit in the kitchen to help him find his way. He rushed upstairs, quietly as he could, and into his attic room. Quickly pulling off his shirt, Bard replaced it with one of white cotton, then tucked it into his trousers. He approached the larg trunk resting at the foot of his bed, knelt, and fished a key from his pocket. It was a simple, black, iron key for a simple, black, iron padlock, which snapped open with a click. Bard flipped the lid of the trunk up, reached inside and withdrew a cloth wrapped object sitting atop a pile of other items in similar dress. Bard took a break, and began unwrapping the bindings from the item in question, until polished steel gleamed in the moonlight, and it was revealed to be his helmet. A Barbute-style helm, a curved, polished bull's horn curved out and forward from each temple. The helmet bore a "Y" shaped opening through which the wearer's eyes, nose, and mouth would have been visible, but otherwise it protected the entirety of the head and upper neck. The helmet had nicks and scratches from a dozen different battles, and Bard cradled it in his hands with a sort of grim reverence that even he would have been hard pressed to define.
"All right then..." he murmured, setting the helm aside and pulling the rest of his armor from the trunk. It was time to go to war, and an old soldier like Bard Alrikson had seen enough of those to know just how badly he'd need that armor.
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Post by Raewynne Cousland on Jun 21, 2015 11:14:19 GMT -8
The two swiftly rushed through the streets, Malavai exuding his strength to keep the man holstered within his grasp -- while his stamina lacked, he'd rest occasionally; periods of jogging and fast walking ensuing while Raewynne moved to Malavai's speed. After all -- and he knew it too -- it'd be a wasted effort to move on without him, especially if the goal was to protect him. Luckily, as they were nearing the jail cell, it would seem they'd go unharmed, for now. The first stop was the jail cell, then the infirmary.
"All right, I'll round up more assistance, you go see if the wounded gang-member is still at the infirmary -- I don't think we'll be ambushed here, so it should be safe." He motioned for Raewynne to keep moving, soon entering the jail to speak with an officer on patrol. While conversation was underway, another guard would pry the Archer from Malavai's back and then escorted him to an empty jail cell. Step one for Malavai was complete.
Next, he pleaded for any available troops to gather for this huge arrest -- explaining the situation, he was able to scrounge up a few guards willing to crack the case. Assuming this was enough men to spare, Malavai would exit the jail, awaiting for Wynne outside with the guards. Once she returned, they'd set foot toward this run-down inn-tavern.
Her back facing the man that she once loved, Raewynne's eyes closed and she inaudibly sighed in response to Bard. There were a lot of conflicted emotions swirling about inside her, but deep down, she wanted him to be safe -- but based on history, there'd hardly be reassurance by words. Bard knew that. The two then parted ways, again, which kind of left her nerves uneasy.
Raewynne followed alongside Malavai, nearing the infirmary and jail station in record time. Malavai ushered for her to continue into the infirmary as he'd bring the Archer to the jail, causing the two to momentarily split up.
Strolling into the infirmary, Wynne weaved through some of the 'nurses' and those that tended to the wounded, asking for a wounded guard in one of the medical bays. When the healer exclaimed that the guard was down the corridor within the infirmary, Wynne grew a little suspicious. The two walked down along the dim-lit corridor to the room at the end, and it was there and then that her suspicions were confirmed: the guard, allied with the gang, retreated to claim his share of the supplies and depart with them this eve. Nothing more to be seen or said, Wynne rushed out from the infirmary to see Malavai and his crew.
"He left -- escaped." Her words were rapid, tone seemingly pushing for them to move along.
When she noticed that Malavai nodded in agreement, the two began to head in the direction of the worn inn, the guards trailing behind them.
They needed to be quick, to make it in time. Bard's safety needed to be ensured.
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Post by zoi on Jul 27, 2015 12:55:12 GMT -8
As this thread has not been posted in since June, it is now closed.
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Post by zoi on Aug 2, 2015 8:45:49 GMT -8
Points Allocated as follows: Bard - 28 Rae - 28 Malavai - 17
Nothing was docked at this time. Feel free to create a follow-up to continue the arc.
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