Chasing Shadows

You - firstly Ga'Elian who ran out as fast as his feet could carry him - and then the rest clamor out of the sewers. It's dark outside, and there's no immediate sign of the man who you were chasing. There is something else. Ga'Elian's companion is laying on the ground bleeding heavily from some extraordinarily nasty wounds. It looks like he was nearly gutted by the man who ran from you, and left here for you to find in such a manner.

Sniff. Sniff sniff sniff. Chay scents the air as he jogs. Footprints mark the sith-makar's passing; the hunter having opted for Gilead's magic to shroud him. He stops, short of the blooded companion. Looks around, scenting, scenting...

Ambush?

Still pursuing the fugitive's trail by scent, by tracks, etc, and still following as quickly as possible without losing the trail and as stealthily as his abilities and magic items allow, he can't help but notice the grievous wounds sustained by his companion, but is determined to capture the perpetrator if there is any chance at all that he can. Therefore, he slips past Erithamiel, Chay and anyone else as if he were a slight gust, not revealing his presence, figuring that the most urgent matter at hand is to not let the archenemy get away!

GAME: Munch rolls perception: (6)+19: 25
GAME: Chay rolls perception+3: (8)+10+3: 21
GAME: Ga'Elian rolls Percep/Ioun+Boots: aliased to Perception+4+2: (19)+28+4+2: 53

The golems leathery 'dreadlocks' writhe and rise, moving like snakes, as his magicite eyes shift from blue to orange, and he pulls the massive greataxe from his back. Turning towards the figures he can sense, but not see, he levels the massive weapon. "Explain. Quickly."

GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+27: (16)+27: 43
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+22: (3)+22: 25
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+17: (13)+17: 30
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+12: (20)+12: 32
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+12: (15)+12: 27
GAME: Aftershock rolls 14d6: (59): 59

From amid Erithamiel's very bowls comes the Black Mask. Covered in the blood and viscera of the animal his knives cut bloody ribbons into the beast. There's no way to tell his thoughts, or even his expression because it is covered in a mask. He stands there breathing heavy, his knives ready to do their work now on the bodies of those who stand before him. "I told you to join me. But if you stand in my way; I will treat you like this creature. I will slaughter you."

GAME: Chay rolls bluff: (18)+8: 26

"Not alive. Not ever ever ev--" Chay looks down the way, and then at the masked man in front of him. The sith-makar BOLTS, hard. He runs, nearly straight at the man--collides, shoulder to shoulder and then on past, past.

Like a coward.

"NEVER AGAIN!" the sith-makar snarls, his voice to the rafters. Heavy panting follows his wake--the sound of heavy, fleeing footsteps.

But he's tucked something in his pocket.

Munch blinks with a soft click, shifting his focus to the guy covered in gore of an innocent griffon. He may not know what's going on, but he understands Villain fairly fluently. "Slaughter -me-? Yeah... good luck with that." Confidence has never been lacking in the metal man. The golem shifts to a defensive stance, his eyes starting to glow with golem sparks. The massive axe, Reaver, ripples, and starts blowing up like a balloon. An instant later, the golem being to inflate as well. In moments, he towers over the group, standing a massive 13 feet tall.

Ga'Elian appears beside the Masked man, and misses trying to grab him, but says, "I don't know who you are, but you NEED to be stopped!"

GAME: Ga'Elian rolls Fortitude: (20)+20: 40 (CRITICAL SUCCESS)

The 'villain' takes a step back from Ga'Elian, but it's only so he can roll back in, slashing at the elf with dangerously accurate stabs of his knife. Ga'Elian takes a hit from the blade, and the rest are narrowly evaded.

Roof. Roof. Chay rips off part of a sleeve--the shirt will be replaced--and wraps it around the vial. He tucks it away as another man would the most precious of diamonds, and then turns back, and jogs towards the buildings.

There's got to be--got to be--

There! He finds an old, jagged ladder. It might've been whole once, but as it is now, it's perfect. It's left behind, forgotten--sort of how he hopes the masked man will think of him. The hunter leaps upwards, and grabs the rotted ends.

...it holds, barely.

He hoists himself up, and onto the roof. As he does, a hand rechecks the vial--safe, thank the gods--and he offers a prayer to the Hunter Dragon, in thanks.

Ga'Elian steps back as he swiftly draws his bow. Even faster, the bow is loaded and shot. The arrow finds purchase in the Masked man's shoulder, as Ga'Elian says, "I come at you unarmed after you just eviscerated my mount, and how do you respond? Poison and steel. Again. So you can eat some of my steel, too. But poison isn't my way.

Munch flexes his clawed toes, a shower of rainbow sparks shooting up his body, lending arcane speed. Small bladders of toxic chemicals surge, dumping a potent mix directly into artificial muscles, supercharging their effects. His face cracks open, ceramic plates pulling back to reveal row upon row of nightmare fangs, quivering in the moonlight. The TerrorMaw roars, the sound on an angry chainsaw going thru sheet metal. A 13 foot chainsaw. If the Watch wasn't aware something's going on, they sure as hell know now. Though they might be a little cautious in investigating.

For something so large, he moves -fast-, the giant axe seems to stutter and jump in the air, shifting with golem sparks; under the multi-verse theory, -this- is now the reality where a well aimed strike happens. A strike meant to turn the tide of battle in one key action, blowing apart the mask man's guard, and ripping thru cloth, armor, and flesh alike. That's gonna leave a mark... specifically, a twitching digit upon the cobblestones.

The masked man turns himself loose on Ga'Elian, but the rage of losing much of the flesh on the outside of his left arm (and a pinky) has him swinging more wildly than he should. "That, is why you are going to lose." There's anger glinting, as the mask looks deeply into Ga'Elian's eyes.

GAME: Chay casts Invisibility. Caster Level: 7 DC: 15

Oh, Chay's been there. He's been there when the fighter's stronger than you are. When the fight just isn't worth it. But what's of value to this man? What's the win, in the long run?

The sith-makar narrows his eyes, and reaches behind--draws the hunter's cloak over himself. Then, he turns, and skitters down the roof, as silently as he is able.

What's worth the MOST to this man? And his organization? Chay creeps closer, drawing on the lessons of hunter-caste.

Munch pffts. "Poison." He obviously has a low opinion of the stuff. Then again, he's made of metal and acid, it typically has little impact upon him.

The golem renews his attacks, not nearly so accurate as the first, but far greater in number. Swinging axe (more a sharp metal door on a light pole), flashing fangs (dagger sized). They keep the masked man hopping, but fail to remove any more body parts. Or even draw blood, really.

Ga'Elian says, as he unloads a full volley, "I see. (thwack thwack) You have no regard for an opponent's honor and (thwack) only respect brutality. Just like your cult. (thwack) You brutally and with forethought murdered Ascal Liasandoral and (thwack) others. You and your disciples are simply about wanton destruction, huh? (thwack) No mercy, no respect. Just violence. (thwack)"

GAME: Ga'Elian rolls Fortitude: (10)+20: 30

There's silence save the volley of blows. The chink of weapons against one another, against armor. Then one of the cuts, three of them in quick succession slide past Ga'Elian's defenses and the elf falls to the ground. Put to sleep by the same poison that has struck him so many times. He looks dead to the world, but the Black Mask hisses a reply to him just the same. "Each death had purpose, and mercy in it. To kill them whilst they slept so that they felt no pain." However gruesome the murders were it seems. His dark eyes peer into Munch's next, drawing the other in with veiled threat.

GAME: Munch rolls will: (6)+12: 18

Snatch. The finger that Munch had supplied? Vanishes into the hunter's cloak. The sith-makar can smell him--SMELL him--this close. No.

Smell the warrior's blood, as he'd fallen. Smell the odd metal-scent that's golem-fear, an all but alien scent to the world of Ea.

Not worth it.

Chay slips back atop the roof, as quiet as he may manage. It will take a moment, to find that old ladder. To find that old place, and get to that height.

Munch buzzes softly. "Just violence and destruction? I can relate to that. But really, it doesn't work out in the long run. Lynch mobs, city guards, bands of adventurers after you, it's just one headache after another. -WAY- better to join the good guys, be a little selective in your killings, and be able to walk around in public without having to kill anyone." ....he had an interesting childhood. "....wait. You kill people in their -sleep-? ...that... that just... where's the fun in THAT?" He's shocked, he's shaken, he's confused... he's a little hungry, but that's not directly related.

The golem presses on, axe swinging, fangs snapping. Adamantine fangs close on a shoulder, ripping skin and cloth, but failing to wound deep. Still, that's gotta sting like heck, even before you count the acidic drool.

GAME: Munch rolls fort: (20)+17: 37 (CRITICAL SUCCESS)

The Black Mask hops away from Munch and keeps rolling backward until he's a full length away from the other. He's panting a bit as he bounds back to his feet and throws another dagger Munch's direction. The dagger sticks, but the golem doesn't go down like Ga'Elian did.

"Hunter!" Chay reappears, from bare atop the roof. "Parlay, hunter, from one to another, k-k-ksssss!" he calls down. The sith-makar looks narrow-eyed at Munch. LISTEN, that look asks. He hopes to get through the battle rage.

The sith-makar's hunkered down, a hunker that exposes just a part of him. A hunker that one hopes, makes difficult a counter-strike. He hopes. He's counting on it.

Munch glances down at the knife in his chest, glances back to the Black Mask, his eyes flashing a deep violet for a second. "....something from the solanaceae (nightshade) family, maybe atropa? Really? I put that on my salads." A salad. Once. It was a bet with some drunk druids.

The Chay appears, and talks. Munch hesitates a moment, and stretches out his arm. His blade stretches as well, transforming from an axe into a long spear, reaching well past the Mask's position. "I'm the brawn, so that makes him the brains. He wants to talk, let's talk. You run, I'll chase. If I chase, I -will- catch you."

GAME: Munch rolls intimidate: (4)+22: 26

The Black Mask shifts his feet, holds up his battered hand and nods once. "Speak then sith-makar. I told you before that I would rather not kill you, it is you who have forced me into this position not the other way around."

"...then go," the sith-makar says, faking an ease he doesn't feel. It's the kind of ease one fakes when the whipman stares down at you, the cat in hand. One remembers the feel of it. Pretend it doesn't hurt. He forces down the lump in his throat.

"Then go. Go, and cleanse yourself, hunter. Each party has flexed its parts, and knows the mettle of the other. We will give one another a day, to pray and reflect. Perhapss the tempers will have cooled, then." It will take that long to take the griffon across Alexandria.

Munch hisses quietly, deflating as chemical side effects take hold, and he shrinks back to his typical size. You can't make muscles magically bulge with power and not expect to leave them a little stretched out. The weapon remains a spear, the dragonhead of metal stretched into a long point, but also makes for a nice walking stick to lean upon, if only a little. He waits and listens, not totally clear on what this is all about anyway.

"It doesn't have to be this way. The deaths are /necessary/." He shakes his head at you and then quick as lightning ducks down an alleyway. Gone.

GAME: Chay rolls sense motive: (16)+10: 26
GAME: Munch rolls sense motive: (16)+-3: 13

Gods. Gods. Gilead take him. Gods. The sith wants to curl up, to hide in the shadows. Instead, he grips the stones in a dead man's grip, and looks down to where the man had vanished. Then to Munch, and taps the side of his own muzzle. And then, because he has too many valuables on him--he draws on the hunter's cloak, again. Vanishes. Creeps back along the roof to a different spot. Then, slowly, down the back. Slowly, eventually, back to where Munch is.

Then stands there, shaking, and unveils. Looks to the robotic man. "All is not losst, sser. Please, trust me thiss one more time--and let us get your companions to the hunter'ss temple."

Ga'Elian awakens groggily, but when Chay's recommendation sinks in, he says, "Yes. Let's do, but it will be easier if he can help us." He casts a spell.

GAME: Ga'Elian casts Raise Animal Companion. Caster Level: 20 DC: 17

Munch nods, heading over to Ga'Elian, offering a hand to help him up, then standing back as he casts a spell. Magic hasn't been great to him lately.

Munch blinks, glances at the knife still in his chest. "...wonder if he wanted this back. Ah well, might be useful?"

-End