Persue You
The sun is beginning to set now, in a hazy sky that's turned a bevy of beautiful colors. You stand just outside the Arcanist's Guild, or perhaps passing by, perhaps passing through though... It's been harder to do that of late what with the guards whom have been thick around here. The heat of the day doesn't seem to have any effect on the two sith-makar guards that make their way through the space and toward the Arcanist's Guild. They're clearly here to relieve the guards down below (or rather it's obvious to those who know there are guards down below in any case).
"...doessn't work..." Chay the sith-makar hunches his shoulders as he walks past the incoming guards. He has his head lowered, almost staring at the ground. "..." He wears a long duster that by now has seen some wear. Its colors are the colors of the forest; dyed from a deep green, and oiled against the weather.
The Arcanist's Guild has been drawing a good deal of Seldan's attention of late, but today he's simply passing through en route towards the Temple District. He'd been running, to judge by flushed cheeks, but as the traffic thickens, he finds himself forced to slow down and weave his way amid the crowds.
Alaryn is in fact, a -member- of the Arcanist's Guild. A fact that she gets ribbed about often enough. The fact that she has zero magical talent in her own right might have something to do with it. But she uses her brain to cobble together mana crystals and energies to simulate magic in many ways. So she figured she deserves to be there! Neener!
Today she's coming out of the guildhouse, calling back, "I MADE THOSE! THEY -FUNCTION- EXACTLY LIKE YOURS!" But then she just.. grumps and armfolds as she pauses to look about the streets again. Spotting the guards, she lifts her brows, "This should be interesting." she remarks.
Strike wanders along, staff in hand as she takes in the air. The Arcanists Guild eventually comes into her awareness and she drifts that away to see what's changed since she got crammed into all this meat.
Merek has on his black attire and a cloak which he wears, while he makes his way about and looks to the guards. He seems content to look about.
Darius is here because... well, he needs to talk to an alchemist about getting a potion to help treat Fluffy (his pet dire panther)'s acute hairball problem.
GAME: Chay rolls perception: (17)+11: 28 GAME: Alaryn rolls perception: (15)+8: 23 GAME: Seldan rolls perception: (19)+2: 21 GAME: Darius rolls perception: (13)+8: 21 GAME: Merek rolls perception: (17)+13: 30 GAME: Strike rolls perception: (18)+10: 28
Amid the crowd is a darkly cloaked individual. They don't particularly stand out aside from the fact of wearing a cloak up in the middle of a warm day, but what does stand out is the quick glint of metal as they draw a knife. Even this might have gone unnoticed except that the individual in question 'stumbles' out of the way of someone coming toward them and in that same instant slashes out with their weapon - at Chay.
GAME: Chay rolls fort: (15)+11: 26
"Ssa, Acedia, this one is ssorry, but..." the sith-makar is saying. Chay spreads his hands as he speaks, his gaze focused on nothing. "...no. Ssa, one tried, Acedia, but the magics--"
The blade strikes, cutting into his scales. Around the wound, the scales quickly turn and gray--gray against ash-orange, and he staggers.
Blinking, Alaryn just kinda stares dumbly as all of this goes down. As the blade flashes and strikes Chay, she mutters, "Hey.... That.. isn't right." but she inclines her head and starts walking purposefully towards Chay, "Hold still!" She calls out, no longer hesitant. Whether she is speaking to Chay or the attacker is anyone's guess.
Darius also blinks at this and says, "ASSASSIN! GET HIM!" drawing his greatsword and rushing into the fray, someone better catch him and get some answers before it's too late.
Merek moves towards the assassin as he sees the knife hit Chay, then he's moving to try his best to tackle the man that's doing that, to the best of his ability.
Reaching to her belt, Alaryn plucks a pouch from it and turns it over to dump the powdered crystal combined with the oils and other goo she uses for her 'contraptions'. Sure, they're not mechanical. You tell her she can't do it as she does it anyway! "Here. Let me help with your wound!" she exclaims towards Chay as she moves closer.
....aaaand suddenly being late to evening services takes a great big back-seat as steel flashes in the square. Seldan stops cold, eyes riveted on the dark-cloaked figure with the knife. He's halfway to shouting at the figure, when all of a sudden more steel flashes, and this will become a fight with frightening speed. Instead, he turns towards the quickly brewing fight, seeking to put himself between the orange-and-ash sith and the cloaked figure.
Strike is turning as she sees the knife emerge, but she's still not close enough to directly intercede before the thrust is made. She rushes toward the man as tries to tackle him-and brings back her hand, folded back into a half fist to thrust at one of what should be one of the man's pressure points to try and stun him.
GAME: Chay rolls survival: (1)+13: 14 (EPIC FAIL)
It is rather quickly becoming a brawl. People running toward the sith. A LOT of people running toward the sith. Enough that it's almost easy to miss the second, third, fourth, and fifth strike that lash out at Chay. Each of them so fast that it's like a blur between one and the next. Then... suddenly the 'assassin' is gone. Which leaves a whole host of people to violently collide with one another as they attempt to capture the assassin bodily.
Most notably is Merek who manages to grab someone in spectacular fashion, lifting them clear off the ground! In fact looking at Merek you realize, staring at his most epic of grapples that... the assassin is somehow now standing directly behind him rather than behind Chay.
GAME: Seldan rolls reflex: (1)+2: 3 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Merek rolls reflex: (5)+6: 11 GAME: Darius rolls reflex: (8)+5: 13 GAME: Strike rolls reflex: (18)+5: 23
"Poisson--poisson...only one moved that fasst. The Obssidian--Obssidian--" Chay spits, spits and stares ahead, at the artificer rushing TOWARDS him. It's one time his fear might save him. He flings himself backwards, running AWAY from the outstretched hand, and bodily into the assassin!
GAME: Chay rolls fort+2: (5)+11+2: 18
A mighty grapple indeed, and one that Seldan in his attempt to put himself between the attacker and the sith runs right into! Arms grab him and hold him fast. "Ai, unhand me you great oaf!" He writhes and twists in the grapple, seeking to put an elbow in Merek's ribs in hopes of getting him to let go!
Noticing... total insanity, and utter stupidity going on before her, Alaryn just steps back away from the gathering crowd. Especially as Chay turns and charges himself into the faceplant. She narrows her eyes and draws her Dragonspitter... trying to keep the assassin in view as she carefully points the weapon and waits.. wait.. waits for her shot.
Merek looks then to Seldan, seeming to consider him a moment, then he places that guy onto the floor, while he shifts the hands of his to claws, black with silver on it, decorated while he swings about as the corrosive acids form upon them while he moves to take on the assassin as well.
GAME: Merek casts Corrosive Touch. Caster Level: 3 DC: 15
Strike staggers after the objective blinks out of convenient punching distance and she collides with the collective fellows who were trying to apprehend him. She blinks a moment, then she sidles to the side and makes another try to stun the assassin with her Half-Fist of We're Gonna Have a Little Chat!
A shot from Alaryn echoes through the sudden well of silence that's broken only by the grunts of several people colliding with one another. Darius ends up with a handful of Chay, who is blessedly unconscious on the ground, but the sith-makar is quite out of it and he hangs limply as if dead in the warriors arms. The shot from Alaryn misses but only by a breath. It would have hit in fact if the assassin in question had not stepped backwards to avoid Merek's claws. Thankfully for the good guys he's surrounded now, and Strike's attack hits him hard. Not exactly where she intended and he doesn't seem stunned the way he should be, but it definitely hit and did some damage to him. In retribution he sends five attacks in her direction, each of them so blindingly quick that they're hard to follow.
"Adventurers. You all need to die. You're a plague on Alexandria! Just let me kill him!" He does a little flip, slides between Merek and Seldan and lands neatly beside Chay (who's being held by Darius) once more.
Shaking her head, Alaryn remarks, "You are drunk. I mean nimble for a drunk, but you must be drunk if you think we're going to just stand here and let you commit murder." She snaps her fingers and re-cocks her pistol... "I'm usually a pretty good shot." she states, "Now... stand down, or get put down. Your choice." she states.
"I see but one plague on Alexandria in this square, and he attacked an innocent without provocation." Seldan's voice is cold and oozing with judgment, once he's stepped away from Merek and given the man a dirty look. "Enough." If he can, he'll place himself between Chay's unconscious form and the assassin. He hadn't drawn his blade to this point, but does so now, and levels it. The guards no doubt will be here soon enough.
GAME: Strike rolls fort: (4)+5: 9 GAME: Strike rolls fort: (5)+5: 10 GAME: Strike rolls fort: (12)+5: 17
Strike feels contact, but barely has time to register the sensation before he's turned on her and begins trying to hollow her out like a festival turkey. The first slash crosses her belly, the second is deflected by her staff finally reaching it's guard posture, the third whistles past her ear, and on her reflexive withdraw, he manages to cross two slashes across her leading thigh. Something on his blade, somewhere in that flurry did the business, for the half-mul's retreat ends as a sprawl.
Merek moves to the assassin while he keeps on swinging about so the others can keep on him while he does so.
With the enemy just beside Chay it's not that hard for the man to grab Chay from Darius and hold him hostage against Seldan. "He must die, but you, your allies do not."
"And by what authority do you claim the right to kill another, unprovoked?" Seldan's blade doesn't move. He's getting answers, and perhaps just perhaps, if he keeps this thing's attention and stalls him long enough... He glances sideways as Strike goes down, eyes widening a little, but resolutely turns back towards the assassin.
GAME: Merek casts Sanctuary. Caster Level: 5 DC: 14
Merek walks to the place that Chay is, while he places a palm on him to place that protection in case the crazy assassin tries on him again as well.
Merek walks to the place that Chay is, while he places a palm on him to place that protection in case the crazy assassin tries on him again as well.
Chay flopples in the assassin's arms. Sadly. Floppling. Like a sad, sad princess. Will his prince never come? Will the princess never arrive, on a pale horse in blazing saddles?
He flopples. Dangling there, in the assassin's grip. His scales are slowly fading to gray and sickly.
The man shakes his head. "Not that you'd understand." Suddenly Chay is thrown at Seldan. "Here, keep him for now. He'll die soon enough."
Seldan's eyes go wide, and his sword clatters to the cobblestones as he suddenly staggers, trying to catch Chay and keep him from falling, or for that matter, keep from accidentally stabbing him again. "Stop him!" he shouts suddenly, for whoever is still about, and hopefully any guards that might be incoming.
GAME: Merek casts Cure Serious Wounds. Caster Level: 5 DC: 16
Merek moves to the place that Chay is, then he places those hands of his upon his form, praying for healing for him also. He is hopeful that will assist while they look for a way to work against the poison as well.
Strike dribbles. A girl can't help it, sometimes. She's breathing, which is just as well she keeps doing, and continues to play throw rug next to her staff.
With the adventurers either unconscious, or unable to fight because they are ladened with bodies, the man makes his escape. The sith-makar guards rush him, having heard the commotion and come back to assist though their job is elsewhere. He simply teleports right through them, and... is gone.
Some of the color fades back around Chay's eyes, the corners of his mouth. The scales near the cuts, though? Still gray, and growing grayer. The sith-makar curls up in the street, as though instinctively, to make himself the smallest target possible.
Seldan, staggering under the weight of an unconscious sith-makar, lowers Chay to the streets as gently as he can, and hopefully not on the Silver Guard's dropped longsword. Immediately, he looks over the sith-makar's wounds, and then those of the half-mul lying unconscious in the street, to see who is worse and who he can help.
GAME: Seldan rolls heal: (6)+6: 12
The sith-makar curls tighter there in the street. Watching closely, one might see Chay slowly, almost drugged, slit open one eye.
Look around.
The eye rolls towards Seldan, focuses for just a moment. "No touch," he rasps, and, "Obssidian. Obssid...no touch. Althean. Alth--" ...and he's out again. Given how he'd reacted to someone just walking towards him, earlier, this is probably good.
Amidst the efforts to staunch the half-elf's bleeding, Strike spasms with a shrill gasp and bolts half upright with a cry that quickly turns into a groan as her arms curl around her bleeding midriff as the pain tramples the shock of her awakening. She takes more shaky breaths trying, and failing not to cough for the first few, but eventually manages to breath normally, "Nnngg.....! Did... get'm....?" she inquires through gnashed teeth.
GAME: Merek casts Cure Moderate Wounds. Caster Level: 5 DC: 15
Merek makes his way to Strike to place hands upon the elven woman, so that he can heal her also. He seems to like healing people.
Seldan looks up as Merek joins them and brings healing as well, a far better approach than his efforts. "I fear I never was much of a healer," he says, withdrawing to let Merek in and instead looking over at Chay as the guards arrive. "I cannot carry him. He wishes to be taken to Althea's temple..." He looks down at his blood-covered hands.
Strike is much relieved that the man's healing touch tends to the wounds. She looks up to the man with an earnest, "Thank you." She looks about, noting the lack of assassin's carcass, she wonders, "His target...?" and glances toward the Sith, "I think I can help with that, at least."
"We will take him." One of the sith-makar guards says quietly, looking at Chay. They don't lift him, not with their hands in any case. They form a stretcher and nod to you all. "We will tell the Altheiansss what happened here. You are welcome to come with usss."
"He got away," Seldan tells Strike, regretfully. "He had no quarrel with me. I cannot but think his hate was aimed at those of different races." His tone is both mournful and perplexed. "Thank you," he adds to the guards. A moment's pause, and he pulls a stained rag from his belt pouch and cleans his hands with it before picking up his sword and sheathing it. "Perhaps I should have called on Her gifts instead." This last is said more than half to himself.
"Perhaps." Strike replies thoughtfully, taking up her staff before rising carefully to her feet. She could probably use the support, "I don't understand why such a gifted killer wouldn't just strike while he's alone. Ego, perhaps? A need to make a spectacle?" Hmmm.
-End