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Post by Unter on Feb 22, 2018 14:09:31 GMT -8
Iver approached Libourg running as fast as his legs could allow him to. Libourg was getting in position, and the beast was rushing them. A nasty beast, with huge sharp teeth and a nasty glare to its hidden eyes. Bloody hell the thing was disgusting. And he was going to jump on it ! Haha !
"Now Libourg !"
He jumped on Libourg prepared hands, and the impulsion propelled him higher. He flashed his daggers, one in each of his hands : He aimed for the fleshy walls of the creatures, and hoped to find a weak spot. While in the air, he couldn't stop but yell like a madman.
"Heiiiiiiiiiigh ho !"
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Feb 22, 2018 16:51:46 GMT -8
/Sicherlein/
She felt her eyes ready to pop out of her head as the light crept out and illuminated this gagging and raging beast of metal and flesh. His porcine hulk lumbering forward, with a hoof dangling so casually and grossly that, for a moment, Sicherlein averted her eyes with a soft whimper before she swallowed the rancid air and cleared her nose pointlessly.
The Tombraider set her eyes on the grate it had been smashing, and the wounded child there. With a cocky sigh, she surrendered herself to having to sacrifice another piece of her coat to heal the boy. It was enough to get her focused.
She feared the beast might avert its gaze to herself, swinging the nasty polearm around like the beastly monstrosity it was. But, as she started at a crouched run, the beast and all its worries went out of her sight and out of her mind. Only the wounded boy was important now... Children in such traumatic straits was wrong upon so many levels, it brewed a bitter rage at the kidnappers and the beast; which she'd sworn to put out of her mind but its thudding hooves and guttural snarls made it almost impossible.
With a hop and two quick stabs of her feet, she braked hard and fast infront of the grate and the boy; raising a hand and whispering quickly as she cast a glance over her shoulder, then flicked her visor and cap back so her softly features came to bear.
She smiled at the boy and rose her brows in an attempt to at least look friendly,
"Hello there, dear kindelein."
Her voice was breathy, and her brows quickly scrunched up as she looked down and tore a piece of cloth from her jack again; swearing to patch up the poor attire with all her soul when this was done.
"Come, come; you're hurt-- Don't look. Just- ehh, come closer, please?" Sicherlein pleaded, as she set the torch in the crutch of her arms as she bent them and beckoned for the kid to come closer to the grate, imprompto bandage bared.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Feb 22, 2018 17:39:42 GMT -8
Beast:
It skidded to a halt and watched as the dwarf fly up in the air in perfect motion.
If it were an audience member, it would have been wowed and amazed at the performance. Clearly the small man was an expert as his craft.
Unfortunately, the beast was only impressed by how tasty Iver looked.
It backed up in a maneuver its long, surprisingly agile neck to catch Iver, who would land squarely, feet-first, in its many-toothed mouth.
Jack Benson:
The tunnel he was sat in was cramped, a good meter high and a meter wide, widest at the floor and tapering upward in a cylindrical motion.
It was a good dimension for the boy, who seemed to be much younger and smaller than the proposed age of ten on the crier's call to arms. He seemed to have seen no more than eight winters.
At anyrate, the tunnel was large enough to accommodate him perfectly. Sicherlein might find it less so.
A thick wall of filth two meters down the tunnel impeded any retreat the boy could have hoped to make.
He was filthy, stained in shades of red and brown. Half of his shirt had been torn off, and what remained, a formerly-white, hemp cloth, was in tatters, hanging off his uninjured shoulder. The other shoulder, on closer inspection, had a deep crater in it where muscle had been torn away.
His shoes were still buckled tightly to his feet, and his socks, also once a bleached white shade, mercifully protected the child's calf. A leather pair of breeches was hoisted up by suspenders.
The boy's hair was a dark brown, and messy. It was caked with dried blood and dirt. His brown eyes were wide with terror and pinkish with tears, which cut through the filth on his face and down his cheeks like a river through the mud.
His right hand held a bloodied shard of glass, the edges of which dug into the boy's skin as he held it fast like a drowning man would cling to a shipwreck's debris.
With a small cry Jack recoiled at the sight of the masked woman, but visibly relaxed as the visor was lifted upwards and a human face was revealed, though he still kept his grip strong on the glass.
He watched her a moment, eyes darting warily between her blue eyes and the torch, and then to the cloth...
Jack crawled forward, an awkward movement on one hand, and pushed the loose grate outward-- more to allow Sicherlein in. If she crawled along on her belly, she would fit through.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Feb 22, 2018 17:47:00 GMT -8
/Sicherlein/
"Shh-shh, no; here--" She reached out and helped hold grate before she glanced over her shoulder to spy the Dwarf getting all but taken into the maw of the beast; her jaw dropped and the hand holding the bandages shook before she swallowed what shallow bravery she had left and looked back to the boy, visibly shaken as she offered a tense smile.
"-- I-I just need to patch you up, I have to help my friends. Kill a monster!" She assured, though the only confidence came in the hushed but raised tone of her voice, that came out more as a squeak than a shout.
Again, she beckoned the boy forward; moving to hold the grate up more with her elbow to free her hand, while motioning for the boy to come closer yet again. The glass in his hand was worrisome but she had confidence that it had no fantastical corrosive oil to shear through her leathers...
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Post by The Carrying Blade on Feb 22, 2018 17:57:26 GMT -8
Nasuada grimaced, the beast was gigantic, and had enough armor to where even her tentacles wouldn’t be able to pierce it. She spied Sicherlien going over to the boy, trying to help him while the beast was still alive and dangerous....she would make an exception for that one. But then she heard Iver, flying like a bird towards the creature which just opened up an incredibly large mouth to eat him, something that just seemed funny to her despite the dire situation.
At first she didn’t know what to do, tentacles couldn’t hurt it, her dagger would be useless, and trying to also heal the boy would result in something worse most likely. But then she spied the weapon in its grotesque hands, and realized if she could not hurt it, she needed to get rid of its weapon. Given there was light now, she could direct the tentacles to do as she wanted, but also thanks to the light, they would be a bit weaker than before. She used her magic again, wincing as she felt the drain inside her, Obitus had left a mark on her magic when he canceled it out, it started to hurt to use it more.
Having retracted the tentacles summoned before, she set to making new ones, aiming to use them to grab the pole itself and the beasts left arm to try and rip the weapon out of its hands. There would be 3 tentacles this time, thinner but had a lot more grip than the other ones, they would stretch out from the ground and try to wrap themselves around the pole with two, and the arm with one.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Feb 22, 2018 18:17:48 GMT -8
Jack shrunk back away from the grate as the woman bent it more slightly open, poised with a straight back and the glass held just in front of him, as though he expected that creature's great glaive to come crashing down on the iron bars again.
He watched her for a long while-- or perhaps only a few seconds. Given the current affairs of the party, both felt like the same amount of time.
"N-no..." He whimpered, voice thick with a sob.
But, given no where else to crawl to except back to the filth, he scooted forward on his knees, his arm dangling ineffectually, albeit stiffly, at his side. The movement pained him, and the skin beneath the filth blanched a tad.
He squeezed out from under the grate, making to perch at a squat just a hair beside Sicherlein. He still held the glass in a vice grip in his hand.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Feb 22, 2018 18:23:13 GMT -8
/Sicherlein/
With a gasp, she heard the sound of ethereal tendrils swirling and dancing out from the darkness; constricting on some unseen flesh. Her fingers twitched as she squeezed her eyes shut, and tried to put on a brave face despite the barrage of noise.
She stared at Jack with a thin lipped smile, and reached out before hesitating; her eyes glancing to the shard of glass.
"I'm going to bind your wound, OK? Please don't..." Her voice trailed off, weak and distracted as she took a single, last, shaky breath and furrowed her trimmed brows.
Without wasting a moment, she reached out and leant forward; her knees having long since driven themselves into the muck, she looped the cloth under and around Jack's wounded shoulder, and tried to make a hasty bandage to staunch the bleeding...
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Post by Vanitypirate on Feb 22, 2018 18:43:56 GMT -8
Jack nodded, watching the sky-blue of her eyes. His lip quivered.
The cloth soaked up the blood, which was drawn greedily into the rich purple of it. It would become saturated quite quickly, pressed on his shoulder like it was.
He trembled, and his gaze flickered, terrified, from her to the scene of the battle behind her, and back again.
On contact with the exposed muscle, he gave a wail and a fresh stream of tears dripped off his cheeks. He dropped the glass and instead his bloodied hand made to grasp desperately at her jacket, as to pull him closer to her and bury his face in her shoulder, as though to hide away from the shadow of the beast behind her.
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Post by relentless on Feb 23, 2018 6:33:11 GMT -8
Libourg turned around, to watch Iver in his beautiful spectacle... only to watch him to plunge feet first into the creatures disgusting maw. For a moment, a brief, quiet moment. Libourg had gone still, quiet almost. Time seemed to stand still before him, a momentary disconnection between reality and some other ethereal plane he was now lurking on. His plated form stood still, faceplate falling down as he took wild steps back from the action he had just caused. His tongue was caught, his breath choked as he bore witness to the travesty towering above him.
All seemed lost. The cranking of rusty cogs churning as a maelstorm of stress and insanity seemed to wash through the gates. Yet in his own mind something ethereal seemed to form, a phantom of some sort, shining bright in plate Armour shined spectacularly well. Though it would flicker out of view, sparing a look back for glinting rubies to stare directly at libourg, somewhat. Only then, would it disappear, and the maelstorm of fury, and stress to come down onto Libourg.
All he could hear in the forefront of his mind, was the bawling of pigs, the rattle of living bones, and the wailing of the damned underneath the crimson waves of affliction.
[AFFLICTION GAINED:
ABUSIVE.]
He fell back into reality, hard with the screeching of pigs following him in his wake. He turned from left to right in sheer panic, as if they were surrounding him, though he looked back to his comrade that was about to become the pigs next meal. So, he would break off into a hard, fast jog, leaving mud to flick up in his charge toward the malformed beast. Eyes had become steeled, and he could feel the roar of the pigs growing quieter as he seemed to focus at the task at hand... though it was clear, he was seeing red.
"  Useless fuckin' pigs, the lot of you!"
He snapped at them with a disrespectful, loud and intruding tone, looking up at Iver as he neared the beast, before he let out a hungry warcry. With both hands gripping his flanged mace, he would swing for the creatures right leg, at the knee cap to cripple it, potentially knocking it down. He was striking with immense vigour, though grace was forgotten, and fighting style diminished. He swung to kill, maim and brutalize with no finesse in his actions. But mainly to silence the squealing of pigs in his mind, making him grit his teeth hard, and blood trickling down from his guns and onto his tongue from the amount of force he put into gritting his teeth.
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Post by Unter on Feb 23, 2018 6:55:48 GMT -8
While Iver was in the air, he thought he was an eagle. Beautiful, wings deployed and most importantly : Dangerous. He flew with grace and vigor, grinning and gripping his two daggers and bracing for the impact on the vulnerable beast. One heartbeat later, he became the prey.
A tiny robin, eyes widened with terror and wings quivering with fear. The thing turned its mouth to catch him in the air. The multiple teeth shining like razors, the saliva overflowing with hunger. He landed in the gaping mouth softly, like jumping in a pond of mud. He didn't know if the thing had a tongue, or multiple, but he could feel the mouth working to get him down the throat. Confusion and fear pinned him in place, but he only had a few moments before his imminent death. His arms were shaking, but he was still clutching his knives.
He moved, slashing in the unprotected and tender meat of the mouth. He was like a cat stuck against the wall, slashing without seeing where he put the hand. At one moment, a tooth blocked one of the throwing knife he had in his hands and he had to let go, the knife still planted inside the flesh. The nasty thing cut his hand, and a trickle of blood flowed from his palm. This would maybe excite the beast, accelerating the end.
He was still trying to slash like a kitten in the mouth, and slowly, but surely a shout rouse from his mouth. The cry was only crescendo, and was rythmed by the movement of his arms.
"aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH"
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Feb 23, 2018 9:40:13 GMT -8
/Sicherlein/
"Mmhmm, ja... There you go, see--" She flinched again... shuddering as she heard the metal man break. For a moment, she closed her eyes hard, biting back the urge to clutch her head and scream back.
Slowly, she opened one eye and held her smile as best she could while awkwardly patting the kid on the back.
It was hard to focus. She couldn't keep this child safe and slay this beast at the same time, that much she knew; with some care, she pryed the boy away and began to push him back into the grate. Taking care to brace her hands on his abdomen and leaving his shoulder free of pressure.
"-- You will be fine. Go, stay in there for a moment longer; my friends need me... You don't abandon friends, OK?" She flared her teeth and gripped the torch with her left hand again.
"Stay here, I will be back."
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Post by Vanitypirate on Feb 23, 2018 12:18:07 GMT -8
Jack:
The boy's eyes were wide, and his fingers still clung onto Sicherlein's jacket for a moment as he was lead back into the grate.
He felt a surge of panic, empty-handed... in a surprisingly deft moment for his injured state, he frantically reached for the dropped glass on the ground, clutching It again in his good hand.
The movement prompted a fresh surge of blood that spilled down from the tied scrap of cloth, and a shudder from the boy.
He crawled back under the gate and sat on his heels, shivering, holding the glass close. He wanted to go home.
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Post by rumsztyk on Feb 23, 2018 12:25:34 GMT -8
In the darkness and focusing on the curse of debilitation, Ibrahim did not prepare himself for such staggering display of recklessness and idiocy coming from Iver and Libourg. Too surprised to express his emotion - at least he didn't have to force himself into the usual stoic indifference - and with little time to react, a plan is hatched and put into motion.
Gripping the skull in the healthy hand, the other is loosened and flails not unlike a whip to Ibrahim's side. As it does, a streak of pulsing red elongates from it, forming a tendril. Forgoing delicacy and care, in favor of precision and speed, in one fluid motion the occultist extends his whip-like appendage, which coils around Iver's abdomen. Once a firm grasp is established, Ibrahim pulls. Thankfully, Iver is a lightweight midget, giving Ibrahim a chance to succeed considering his rather mundane physical strength.
As quickly as it formed, the vividly red tentacle is gone, as if it never existed.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Feb 24, 2018 1:36:44 GMT -8
Beast:
It panicked, both as it was being stabbed in the mouth by the dwarf, and also at the prospect of losing its hard-earned lunch.
Its tongue was long, wet, and serpentine, and it attempted in vain to draw Iver back into its gullet with the long appendage. However, all it was successful in was groping, as he was drawn away, Iver's calf with its slobbering, worm-like tongue-- a disturbing move, for sure, but entirely harmless.
Libourg's sword, with all its ferocity, swung fiercely at the beast, which had begun to backpedal (in the direction of Sicherlein, who was just behind it) in an effort to hold its grip on the glaive from Nasuada's dark magic; it seemed to be doing a great deal of distracting the beast.
The sword sparked as intensely as lightning down the armored side of the beast.
It kicked out its cloven foot with all the force of a tree trunk at Nasuada.
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Post by relentless on Feb 24, 2018 5:34:20 GMT -8
Libourg grunted as his mace swung hard and fast across its side, with grating metal sending up sparks as the flanged wings of his mace grinded against the armour. His eyes were feverish, and he was gripping his mace like a vice.
"Quit pissing around and work yourselves, fools!"
Libourg snapped at the others as both arms went around to the right, though his left hand would fall to his side as the swing was recovered, whilst the right hand remained clamped.
On the right backswing, he swung for the fences again with the same pattern of a brutal war-like approach from the right side, and if the blow was true it would most likely strike at the side of the creatures bipedal knee. As he did so, he let out a righteous, though outright terrifying growl to exert his tension, displaying his fury unconsciously.
"I'll show you how its done!"
He bellowed, as he performed the swing. Even after the attack, he would push forward despite putting himself into more danger. He was determined to murder and maim this creature, to cease the cawing of pigs echoing across his mind as he drowned in the crimson waves of his stress.
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