Songs echoing [tavern tales (tails?)]

[lyistra]

Emaarhe blinks once or twice, looking over at Fen, at Steuben, simply looking dazed, then goes looking for Lyistra,   She finds her still atop the litter, sleeping, a small amulet pressed into her paw... she blinks a little, looking at it, then looks at Steuben and fen.

As the chain touches her cheek, she shivers a little, her mouth opening as though unwilling, a thin croaking sound coming from her throat.  The scars at her throat are deep, it almost appears from the patterns she used her own claws to make them, but across her form something shimmers at the contact, something odd, something, perhaps.. utterly alien, yet within her, an echo of that panther spirit that came from Lyistra, activated by the small sound from her throat.

She nearly falls, as though the flicker weakened her. her eyes closing as she falls to her knees.  She looks up at Fen, saying nothing, her eyes hollow, as though every nightmare ever seen lives there, as though everything has come to naught for her, for a single moment, a glimpse into the parts of her mind she keeps hidden, where so much sorrow is held.

She stands again, after a moment, and flame burns in her eyes, looks to Fen, to the chain, to that golden link, and to Lyistra, tail flicking, then, as though unwilling, kneels quietly, her head bowed, though it is no doing of the chain or even the bearer, almost as though her strings were cut.

Lyistra is held there, on the litter, even as the city guard arrives, a cry is raised from a nearby home, a cry of murder, and theft.  Emaarhe reaches for the amulet, finally, and is frozen, her hand on Lyistra\'s by the power of the box, touching the amulet.

The city guard tries to sort out the mess, looking at Fen and Steuben, they demand answers, then look to emaarhe and then to the gesticulating Hammerwielder.  He spots the amulet, and draws his hammer, a snarl of rage on his lips, going in a dead run for the two frozen beings.

[steuben]

nearly simulatenously steuben and yamuel move towards the hammerwielder. steuben comes in high with a tackle. in the process he takes a hammer blow across his back. yamuel sends the den\'feire low. he enwraps the hammerwielder. the chain moves up the body around the neck. the chain slides along the arm holding the hammer. steuben rolls off as they hit he ground.

yamuel lifts the dwarf off the ground. he struggles against the chain with his free hand. the rage on his face is mixed with panic as he feels the raw physical power of the chain. the links shift slightly, like a python around its prey.

\"another fun toy to play with,\" yamuel says. evil delight showing on his face and in his voice. the links around the body and neck begin to tighten. the rage on the face of dwarf is replaced with panic. but, the rage stil smolders in his eyes. the struggles against the chain become more frantic.

\"release... him,\" steuben wheezes. the blow had knocked the air from him. he stands up, gasping as he tries to refill his lungs.

\"must i?\" a false whine in yamuel\'s tone. the sound of bones creaking comes from the dwarf. the struggles becoming weaker.

\"the dead can not explain themselves,\" steuben says meeting yamuel\'s eyes. his voice stronger now.

the chain around the body and neck slacken. the chain around the arm, however, shifts. \"ahh, well then. he won\'t need this.\" the links around the arm begin to tighten. the links around the joints tauten. it is as if yamuel is trying to rip the arm apart. the dwarf cries out, rage and pain on his face.

\"release him,\" steuben orders. his voice having the tone that had ordered the march of hundreds of yliaki to their deaths, and some further then that. some of the guards present reflexivly snap to attention.

\"ohhh, veryyy well,\" yamuel says with a sigh. the chain immediatly slackens.  the dwarf falls hard to the ground. the dwarf begins to struggle to his feet. steuben plants his foot firmly in the dwarf\'s back and shoves. the dwarf goes down.

\"hold him,\" the tone of command still in his voice. a few guards move to obey and hold the dwarf securely. steuben looks at yamuel. the look on his face is one of the matter is held in abeyance, and will be discussed later.

edit: just cleaning up a turn of a phrase.

[Under the moon]

Very good! I shall report back later tonight with my part.
*grins at the thought of being an evil power leashed by good*

Here it is... Sorry for the length, I got a little carried away.

Yamuel gives the guards a friendly grin. A false grin, if they could see into his thoughts. One by one, he mentally strips them of their skin, crushing their bones to pulpy powder. Steuben frowns, seeing something of Yamuel?s thoughts in the grin.

?From this point, Yamuel, you will obey my commands.? Steuben orders, using the Voice of Command learned by every soldier, but mastered by few.

Yamuel grinds his teeth through the frozen grin. Steuben would meet a special fate, if he had his way. A slow death, till he breathed his last agonized scream. Then his soul would be extracted and placed in a new victim, starting anew. The pretty Emaarhe and Lyistra would have a?special place in his plan. Yamuel?s grin deepens at the thought of it. But, there is still his master, his leash holder. If he awoke? And that sword?that cursed sword. If Steuben only knew? A growl rumbles in his chest, beast-like. Steuben steps closer, using his greater height(?) to give his Voice more command.

?You will obey me?or Fen will hear of it. Whatever ?punishment? awaits you, I shall have him triple it. Obey!? Steuben says, his face almost touching the beast?s.

Yamuel shivers reflexively. Triple? His master could not be so cruel. He looks at the frozen Enkis, remembering another pair of cat eyes from long ago. Yes he could. ?Yes, Cassaren,? he says and bows, deeper than before, almost formal. There is no mockery in it this time. He would obey?even if it killed him. His gaze falls back on Steuben as he rises. But he would not die alone.

Steuben nods, apparently satisfied. ?Good. Now retrieve my sword.?

Yamuel turns immediately, striding across the street, covering the chain on his arm with his coat as he goes. He does not hear the long relieved breath Steuben lets out. [OOC]I recommend starting your next post here, Steuben[/OOC] The remaining guards step out of Yamuel?s way, reminding him of scattering blackbeetles, when a light is lit. He chuckles to himself, amused at the thought of crushing them under foot. He reaches the sword, picking it up gingerly, repulsed by its very presence. The ring imprinted on the blade draws his gaze. He can almost feel the blow that put it there. The fool had no idea what he created with that blow. A master should never use his own weapon. Yamuel returns with the sword. The guard and Steuben abruptly fall silent. Yamuel knows something had passed between them. But what? The guard nods to Steuben, eyes Yamuel warily, and walks away to talk quietly to the other guards. Each of them in turn gives Yamuel the same wary look. Yamuel hands the sword back to Steuben with a small bow. ?The strongest trust is easily broken by the weakest betrayal, Cassaren,? he says, again sounding like he is quoting. Steuben nods, seeming to understand the veiled Oath. One more ancient than Yamuel himself.

Steuben holds out an amulet. ?What do you make of this?? The road of trust, then.

Yamuel takes the amulet by its dangling chain, feeling the Glyphs inside. He grins at the cruelty of them. ?Perhaps one of the guards could open it? No? Then I shall do the honors.? He looks around, seeing a small clear area in the street. The guards back away, their hands on their weapons. Yamuel looks around, slightly disappointed that none of them are close enough. He grins at Steuben. ?Your ?Fen? would have done this the hard way.? He pulls the coat off his arm, the chain uncoiling. The guards take another step back, some of their eyes going to the two dead men with crushed bodies. Yamuel tosses the trinket into the air, catching it with the chain. He briefly feels it, feeling where the power lies, feeling the soft paper, even the ink, then with one swift, intricate motion, crushes it with the chain. Too everyone?s eyes, the space around the knot containing the amulet seems to bend and twist. Odd lines of vile looking colors appear, only to be sucked back into the knot. Black liquid begins to ooze from the spaces between the links, hissing as it hits the ground. Yamuel quickly unravels the knot, unfolding a paper as he does, holding it at the corners with the chain. He studies it in a glance -memorizing the entire thing- before it suddenly starts dissolving, a black fungus crawling across its surface. Yamuel chuckles, amused that beings can sometimes be crueler than even him. He crumples the paper with the chain, unheeding of the fungus, and tosses it aside. It begins to eat a hole in the cobblestones. ?We take the Ladies to the cells, then we go to the second level. There is someone dieing to meet us there.?

Frightened people begin sticking their heads out the windows, some taking up the cry of murder, others slamming the shutters. Suddenly, the sound of many feet is heard, and a group of twenty or so rough looking men turn the corner. Most look ex-military, all look dangerous. They draw their weapons, advancing slowly. Yamuel looks from the bedraggled guards to the tried, injured Steuben, Wilheven at his side with a bleeding arm. He knows they would not survive, he could let them all die?but his master would be angry. He sighs in disgust at what he is about to do. ?Get the Ladies to the cells, Cassaren. I will lead the way.? The chain slashes the ground in anger, ripping loose chunks of rock. Not disgust at the killing?disgust at the saving. The seething boiling hatred of his master returns as he walks towards the approaching men. The frozen grin slides into place. At least he had something to take his anger out on?

[OOC]Then I would go to the cells, skipping the ensuing gratuitous violence, as it matters not to the plot. As always, feel free to change anything.[/OOC]

Unless you like gratuitous violence.  :evil:

[steuben]

[ooc: so much overlap, so little time.]

steuben nods with apparent satification. \"good. now retrieve my sword.\"

steuben lets out a slow breath. it could have gone either way. \"i\'m getting too old for these pissing contests,\" he thinks. he isn\'t sure if he could have beaten yamuel. but, one of them would have carried the scars to their grave. he had faced others like yamuel, all but one had eventually died. but, not without great cost along the way. the guard captain approaches steuben.

\"can you control him?\" the captain asks.

\"no. he can\'t be controlled. he is barely leashed right now.\"

\"do you trust him?\"

\"as i trust the asp.\"

the look in the captain\'s eyes warns of yamuel\'s return. steuben turns to face yamuel. he takes his sword from yamuel. \"the strongest trust is easily broken by the weakest betrayal, cassaren,\" he says.

steuben nods, accepting the ancient oath as given. \"ancient oaths are rarely as they completly appear,\" he thinks to himself.

[ooc: *fast forward to the arrival of the goon squad, and the end of last post.]

steuben turns to face the new arrivals.

\"no,\" he says. \"hold the rear. we\'ll head a different way.\" he turns, to wilheven, \"quickly. move.\"

the beating of the chain distracts the arrivals. the guards scramble away, carrying the litter with them. steuben says to yamuel, \"if you don\'t come back in one piece. both fen and i _will_ kick your --\" he is interuppted by the begining of the assult.

he turns and follows after the guards. he swiftly moves to the front. the sounds of panicked combat follow them for a while. they slow to a normal pace. they are within sight of their destination.

\"i thought, i was in charge here,\" wilhelven says.

\"you are,\" steuben responds.

\"not when you give orders like that.\" he pauses, considering steuben for a moment. \"who were you before all this?\"

\"a smith.\" steuben responds. his tone indicating that he won\'t discuss it further. but, the question is in wilhelven\'s face, where does a smith learn to command like that.

wilhelven, looks back over his shoulder. \"will he be all right?\"

\"yes. but, he may take longer then he should. always dangerous that.\"

yamuel arrives, dancing along the walls and eves. he is somewhat speckled with blood. glee and delight show in his face and his actions.

\"enjoy yourself?\" steuben says, a bit cooler then he perhaps intended.

\"yes, immensely. you and fen have no idea what you are missing?\"

\"i may,\" steuben responds queitly.

\"oh? do tell,\" expectation on yamuel\'s face.

\"maybe later. we\'re almost there.\"

the building is built heavily. perhaps, more so then the city itself. they pause as the great door is opened towards them. the four crossed layers of wood swing by. they walk into the holding space. the door closes behind them. the inner door opens away from them. they step into the courtyard. the warden meets wilhelven. they talk briefly. wilhelven turns and dismisses the guards not carrying the litter. the remainder, including steuben, yamuel, and emaarhe, follow him and the warden.

they enter the central building and head down some stairs. they stand in front of the designated cells. the doors is buily heavy and thick. the dense wood of each door is bound in heavy iron. carved and inlaid into the wood are glyphs of warding, sealing, and a few others of arcane purpose.

the three prisoners are split up and headed to their cells. though, the puppet master is released from the litter only after it is securely in the cell. the twin iron bolts on each door close and lock with a resonating finality.

\"i hope i have done the right thing,\" steuben says quietly. \"if not, it will be fixed one way or the other.\" he finishes with grim certainty.

[Under the moon]

The cells it is?

Steuben watches the door close. He seems to be considering what to do next. ?Well beast, you said we go to the second level. Why??

Yamuel doesn?t answer. Instead, he stands very still, the blood spattered on his face and hands giving him the look of fresh death. He can feel him? his master. Pushing up from the bottom, from the very depths of the chain. He was waking. Yamuel glares at Stueben, hating him for his freedom. The only thought that comforts him is that all men die someday. May he die screaming. Yamuel grinds his teeth?his master?s teeth, he corrects himself. He hated having to ask this man for anything. ?Tell him?tell him how I helped?? With those words, he feels himself begin to fall backwards, into the darkness he called home for so long. He is looking through someone else?s eyes, feeling another presence. His master has returned. Yamuel fights to hide the hate, the anger, as the hands that should have been his are raised up into his view. A voice comes from the mouth that would have been his if not for that trull Sabrene. But Yamuel remains silent.

?What did he do?? Fen asks, hoping that the blood on his hands was not that of an innocent. Yamuel?s punishment would be severe, if it were. He could feel Yamuel?s subdued anger, but could not see into his twisted mind. Their was no fear. Perhaps the beast had been able to control himself.

?Nothing more than he had to,? Steuben answers, but Fen can hear the slight lie in his voice.

NoT much moRE than I HAd  to. Yamuel corrects, a tiny bit of fear creeping into his mind. But also a brief flash of morbid joy.

Fen shakes his head, not wanting to think about it. Anything that would bring the beast joy would be the stuff of nightmares. If he ever slept again. He hoped silently that that change was not permanent; Steuben would not always be around to keep the beast in check. ?How is Lyistra?? he asks, hoping for happier news.

?Still sleeping, but a natural sleep. She is locked in the cells, accused of murder. Emaarhe is with her. She hasn?t left her side since?? Steuben pauses and glances at Fen, it is a worried look. ?Since we unlocked a Glyph box that had shielded her and Lyistra until a few moments ago.? [ooc]problem fixed[ooc]

Fen looks down at the Den?feire, unsoiled and unscratched, but protruding from a bloodied palm. He knows Steuben isn?t saying something, he feels it. Fear brushes through Yamuel again. He looks back at Steuben. ?Tell me.?

?He did something to Emaarhe. It scared her.?

?What?? Fen asks in his mind. Yamuel cowers.

I gaVE her voiCE back.

There is something more to it, but before he can press the matter, a guard with a bandaged arm walks around the corner. He seems to be of high rank. And by the look Fen sees on his face, he has met Yamuel.

?This is Wilheven. He is a friend of Lyistra?s.?

Wilhelm looks confused at the introduction. Fen nods in welcome, understanding. ?You can call me Fen. Yamuel is gone now.? Wilheven looks at him warily before looking to Steuben, who simply nods. The guard looks back to Fen again.

?Do you still have the information we need??

?I will,? Fen says turning his thoughts on Yamuel, who begins spilling the knowledge in almost a panic. After he finishes, Fen looks to the others. ?LeLackerd waits for someone to bring Lyistra to his fortified mansion on the second level, but he shall receive us instead. He will pay for what he has done. Fate has no forgivness?and neither do I. Let?s see if the fenkis feel the same.?

[ooc]I wonder if Lyistra shall join us to storm the castle. We could use a few fresh recruits. And a plan, even the chain can\'t stop arrows...well, not many.[ooc]

It\'s \'Wilheven\' not \'Wilhelm\', can\'t believe I mixed that up. :rolleyes:

[lyistra]

The hammerwielder upon questioning reveals that his attack was due to his wife\'s murder, and her amulet, or a perfect copy, ending up with the felines.  He admits, however, he doesn\'t know how the magic of the glyphs of warding could be so violated, to place it in the feline\'s hands, even through the glyphs.

As Lyistra speaks of the things she heard, she clsoes her eyes, her head lowered, something dark and feral deep in her soul growing stronger.  She growls a moment, then shakes her head. \"I.. am no puppet.\" She says, in a cold whisper, a whisper with the sound of a thousand deaths coiled in it like asps.

She looks to Emaarhe, then squeezes her paw. \"Thank you.\" she whispers... the other looks back at her, the feline\'s eyes very quiet, the white cheetah gazing over at Lyistra.

After a moment, she speaks. \"Ly\" she whispers. \"You.. grew up a lot.\"   Her head shakes. \"I.. am a little lost.. so much time.\" She whispers.

Lyistra, for the moment, is dumbstruck, then she squeezes Emaarhe\'s paws, her eyes opened wide, so many questions fighting to spill from her lips that they stumble over each other, and Emaarhe\'s paw simply touches her lips. \"No.\" She says, softly. \"No.. don\'t ever force me to speak on those things.\" She whispers. \"I never want to remember or relive them.\"

Lyistra\'s head nods, at that, her muzzle closing. \"Sis...\" She whispers, softly, tears in her eyes. \"Lelackard has much to pay for.\" She growls softly. \"So much..\" Her eyes harden, and she addresses Wilhelven. \"Sir.. I would see Fen and Steuben, should they be willing.\" she looks to Emaarhe, and just holds her, rocking, this time the white cheetah whispering the \"Yiinhaaara\" and continuing.

\"I..\" she whispers, closes her mouth. \"Guess it doesn\'t matter.  had so much I wanted to say.  LeLackard isn\'t the ultimate here.  There\'s another darkness.\" She whispers, hoarsely as though her voice is rusty, from disuse... as Steuben and Fen arrive, she nods to them both \"My voice is back, which poses its own dangers.\" She whispers, the cheetah-spirit shifting within her. \"They\'ve been planning this for a long time.  We need to get to the basement of his manor, as well.\" She winces, as the spirit seems to snarl, free of her face, for an instant. \"third column, left side of the entry.  The grapes, there\'s a bronze one among the copper.\" she whispers. \"Can\'t speak much longer.\" She says, then starts writing, the shifting changing in her, settling, as she continues.

\"The charm made my voice the vessel of the beast\'s release.  I.. stopped the voice.  It made me useless for that part of the plan, but it made Lyistra very attractive.  Our Mother was a Walker in Spirit, she passed it to both of us, gifted by laanx, perhaps.  it\'s hard to say, Talad might have done it as well, or it might be something else.\" she shakes her head to clear it. \"Lelackard carries control stones below his keep.  Part of the flesh of each person is kept there.\" She closes her eyes. \"In my case, it was taken from my toes.\" She looks at her missing toe, after a moment, anger burning there. \"Lyistra from her tail.\" She looks at her sister\'s tail. \"And from the youth... it was the umbilical.  She\'s my daughter.\" she writes, eyes sad. \"It controls us both.\"

She looks at Steuben, and Fen. \"We will stop him.\"

She nods to the clerk, then growls softly, as Lyistra simply nods,   then blinks, as the clerk brings in a box, handing Lyistra her weapons, and each of the feline adults an amulet. \"It will protect you from control, for a time.  You must act quickly, we\'ve a Megara ready to carry you, with a spell of avoidance for sight.  He\'ll be expecting his column soon, we\'ll march some of our soldiers there.\"

The clerk nods. \"May Laanx help you find vengeance.\" as he turns, and releases the seal. \"This LeLackard will be judged by his own doings.  We must see the evidence before he can be judged.\"

Lyistra simply nods, and puts on the amulet, helping Emaarhe with hers. \"Sir?\" She offers. \"Take care of the youth.  She\'s very young.\" She whispers.  Then nods to Steuben and fen. \"Let\'s go.\"

Lyistra supresses a stab of terror as the Megara lifts off, her eyes gazing over at Emaarhe, looking through the distortion at the other two birds, as they circle the central chasm, then start to fly down, to the second level, floating toward a large fortification near the central pit.  The trainers land a decent distance from the castle, as close as they can get without the spell burning through... then fly away, nodding to the troops nearby, they must have left just after Lyistra and Emaarhe were taken into custody.

Lyistra nods, then looks at the castle. \"Well.\" She whispers. \"We have a couple of choices.  There\'s supposed to be an old servant\'s entrance, or Emaarhe and I can pretend to be controlled.\" She whispers, \" \"And bring you two in, Fen wrapped in his chain, and Steuben by oath.\" she whispers. \"Know you both are worthy of trust, or I\'d not be here.\" She shudders. \"Up to you, or we can storm the place, but I\'d rather the casualties be minimal.\" She whispers. \"I.. I\'ve seen. too much bloodshed.\" She whispers, something brittle and at the edge of hysteria in the sound of her voice. \"Let\'s end this.\"

[Under the moon]

*raises mug in the air*

To the end, then...

Stealth? Mayhem?

*looks at Steuben*

Perhaps we shall have some of both. I shall return to fill out this post.


*edit* With great saddness, I inform you that this may be my last post in this story. We have come far together, and made a few friends on the way. But I fear that I have over-extended myself with work, play, CoS, and life in general.

This does not mean you will see me any less on the forums. But I don\'t want to delay the writing of Cos: Soul\'s Mirror.

I shall strive to make this one of my best...



~Fen nods, then looks to Steuben. ?You have been a good ally, even when I did not deserve it. I could ask for no better.? His eyes go to the castle. Somehow, he feels that if he follows into its depths, something terrible will happen. ?But I cannot go into the castle with you. I?,? he pauses, looking to the fenkis. Emaarhe looks away, but then seems to force herself to meet his eye. ?I can?t be trusted. You know this more than any other.? His heart fills with sadness, knowing that he may never see these people?his friends, again. Fate was a cruel master. ?I will aid you how I can.? He again looks to the fenkis. He can feel the separation that is trying to take place. Placing Lyistra?s soul back in her body did not break the Glyph?s power, as he had hoped. It merely delayed it. And Emaarhe?Yamuel would pay for that. But there was a way he could make things right, if he was strong enough. ?Yamuel, guide me?and I will forgive you this once.? he thinks to the shadow in his mind.

I obEY.  Yamuel uttered.

The knowledge Fen needed began to flow into him. The knowledge of the Ancients. He pulls three objects from his satchel. One appears to be a banded throat collar, silver crescents dotting the three black leather bands. Another is a simple jade amulet wrapped with silver wire in the shape of Lyistra?s lyre. The third is a tiny white flute hanging by a silver chain, much like he had shown Lyistra before, only smaller. (beginning of the thread) He holds up the collar, undoing its silver clasps. ?The silver smith thought I was crazy when I asked for silver moons. Tell your sister about them, Lyistra. They are my hope, and I wish the same for her.? The Den?feire uncoils from his arm, then gently wraps about the three objects. Fen gathers his strength, focusing the power of the chain on the objects, as Yamuel had once done countless ages before. The silver shifts, changing, absorbing the threads of energy he places on its surface. Space seems to fold around the objects for a moment. Then it is done. He unwraps the chain, letting it recoil about his arm. The collar, amulet, and flute appear to be no different than before. But the silver is no longer what it had been. It more closely resembles the material of the Den?feire, now. But no one else besides himself or the Ancients themselves would be able to see the difference. Fen holds out his finished work, the collar to Emaarhe, the amulet to Lyistra. They take them gingerly, as if unsure what he had done. ?These contain part of my power. As long as they are with you, no Glyph can harm you?not even the ones that now possess you.? He holds the toy-like flute in his hands, staring at it for a moment. Then he folds it in Emaarhe?s hands with the collar. The pain of memories washes over him. He could save a life this time. ?This is for your daughter. She will be free.? He touches the collar as he lets go of her paws. ?Sing her a song for me. Use your voice with out fear.? Fen steps away from her, wishing there was more he could do. ?If you ever have need of me, place my gift in a dark shadow, and I will come.? He tosses something to Steuben. A single chain link resembling those of the Den?feire, only done by a less skilled hand. A master?s hand, true, but nothing compared to what had crafted the chain in the first place. Steuben looks at it with doubt. ?Don?t worry,? Fen says, remembering Steuben?s distrust of empowered objects, ?It only has the calling charm. You will have to deal with magic as you have always done.? Fen turns away from them, facing the castle. ?Once you are inside, look for my distraction. Farewell.? With that, he walks away, not looking back. Nothing good ever came from looking back.

A good time later, a figure emerges from the shadows at the base of a tall tower. Any who had seen him would wonder if he had stepped from the shadow, or appeared as he walked out of it. But none see him. He waits. The others must be in the chamber by now. He reaches out his hand to one of the support columns, a chain extending from his left arm, wrapping around the thick stone. For a moment, nothing happens. Then there is a sharp crack. The tower shutters as the wide column is crushed. The figure walks to the next column, doing the same, stone again sent flying in broken chunks. The tower groans, dust falling from loosening joints. One column remains too this side of the tower, the last support. The chain coils around it. For a moment the figure looks up, then the column is crushed like the others. The huge tower collapses with a deafening roar, sending tremors throughout the entire castle. Men begin shouting, asking what had happened, running to where the tower had stood. If any of them would have been there to see the figure step into the shadows at the base of the crumbling tower, they would have given him up as dead.

They would have been wrong.

[steuben]

steuben turns the link over in his hand. he looks towards where fen stood. \"we\'ll meet again either in this world or the next,\"  he says. his hand slides into his cloak, and re-emerges empty.

he looks towards lyistra and emaarhe. \"well. you know who we are heading against. you\'re judgement for the course is better then mine. we shall end it one way or the other.\"

[lyistra]

Lyistra watches as one of the towers crumbles, nodding to Emaarhe as she gets out a material made of charred wood ash, grease, and scent-blinding compound, starts applying it over the few bright spots in her own fur, then helps the other enki with hers, making a face at the scent, while it numbs her nose a bit, it\'s better than attracting attention, she nods, offers it to Steuben, and watches the people running toward the tower, then nods again. \"Good time to hit it.\" she mutters, her eyes calculating.  \"They\'ve withdrawn from the wall, the main keep is exposed... umm.. the main keep is crumbled.\" She mutters. \"If he\'s still alive in there, we\'ve got to stop him, and find out what else he\'s done.

Emaarhe nods, then says softly. \"They walk the dark path.\" She says.  Then looks at Lyistra. \"I will sing for my daughter, if you can teach me.\" she looks to Steuben. \"Thank you sir.\" She looks over at the tower, a growl on her lips.

\"Let\'s take them.\" She draws a unique set of weapons, designed to cover her paws, gotten from the armory, made of steel, with silver and platinum, and gold inlays.  She settles in a stance, stretchign a moment, Lyistra also preparing herself, her falchions at the ready.

The enki nod, preparing, then with a nod to Steuben, start running to the keep, finding a breach in the wall, as the two shadowlike enki seem to be of one mind, out for blood.  

Emaarhe approaches a side door, Lyistra near behind her, and nods to Steuben, pretty much undetected as a fire starts nearby.  An old, grizzled guard sees the pair, grins, nods, winks to them, and tosses them a key, laughing, then drops his seal and armour, and straightens up, starting to toss torches into various buildings, mostly the armoury and guardhouses, whistling merrily as he then proceeds to leave the keep, as though washing his hands of the whole business.

Lyistra raises an eyebrow. \"Looks like our erstwhile host isn\'t that popular, all in all.\" She blinks, lookign around finally, seeing a set of gallows and an executioner\'s block, all of which still bear bodies, all female... \"I... see.\" She says coldly. \"killing the families to force the guards to work.\" She nods to the guardsmen who are taking what they can, and moving as many of their family as are left out as possible, one claws at his throat, falling, another, as a man in resplendent robes curses at them from nearby.

Lyistra prepares her atlatl, and placing the shaft on the end of the throwing stick, pulls it back, the stick and shaft both bending as she puts her might into the throw, and the stick flies at the enchanter... she growls, almost a feral sound as the enchanter disappears into the rubble, and nods, her blood up as Emaarhe runs after.

[steuben]

steuben follows after the pair. he watches the unfolding chaos. it isn\'t the guards that they will have to worry about. it is the ones who guard te guards. they will be loyal for reasons other than simple fear.

one of the guards runs by. steuben reaches out and grabs him. the guard\'s fly out as steuben grabs him. he pulls the guard towards him.

\"cut them down,\" he says. he nods towards the gallows. there is no threat in his voice, simply an implied promise of what will happen if he doesn\'t do what he is told. whatever fear of his masters that the guard had is replaced by the much more immediate fear of steuben. the guard rushes off, in the direction of the gallows.

he sees lyistra rush towards the rubble. he looks along the path and sees the wizard disappear. as she crests the pile of rubble she looks around wildly. her falchions glint in the fire light. he come up beside her. he had seen the look in her eyes before.

\"focus, mistress,\" he says. \"he\'ll flee back to his master soon enough. and we just follow the trail.\"

a rock flys through the air towards them. absently steuben reaches out and catches the rock. he drops it to the ground, with a thud.

\"besides, it doesn\'t appear to safe out here.\" he looks towards the central structure of the keep. \"it may be safer in there.\" he grins like a shark. \"at least for us.\"

he walks towards the door at the structure\'s base. as he approaches his sizes it up. there is never a good way enter a building when shilloutted from the back. he pauses infront of the door. he slips his cloak to the ground he kicks it off to one side near the door. he pulls out his sword. the note as the leather slides against steel is that of a hunting beast ready for the kill.

he kicks the door. the door flies back. before the door can swing back closed, he slips in the door. the door bangs back shut. it hangs skew on its hinges. steuben\'s hand appears in the gap between the door and the frame. he gestures them in.

[Under the moon]

[ooc]Had a little time, and needed a break from CoS:SM, so here you go... Tybis is a 21 year old dermorian elf with short redish brown hair. He wears guard\'s chain and plate, light armor -no helm. Tall and wiry, he has a short sword at his left side, a long dagger at his right.[ooc]


Tybis trembles as he cuts the last body down and his fellow guardsman Jote lowers her to the hard planks of the gallows. Even through his tear filled hazel eyes, he can see that the swelled, blackened face no longer resembles his beloved Lowisha. His young wife. He stands slowly, loss and pain consuming him. Then, very slowly, burning hate.

Jote stands with him. The grizzled warrior looking to Tybis with concern. \"I\'ve seen that look before, young elf. You still have a young daughter and baby boy. Don\'t throw your life away just yet.\"

Tybis closes his eyes and clenches his fists. He can see the faces of his two young children. Jote was right, they needed him, but Lowisha was dead. He had to do something. \"What should I do?\" he asks, opening his hands and staring at his sword calloused palms. His own voice sounds hollow, empty, hopeless. He wishes that man had killed him, instead of sending him to the gallows. He had seen death in that man\'s eyes, and though fear had made him obey, he secretly wished for that death. That release.

\"I won\'t ask you to leave this place, since you won\'t. But I ask you to be carefull. Think of your children before you draw your sword. You know as well as I where the swordsman and the fenkis are headed. The best way to achieve your vengence is to help them achieve theirs.\" Jote looks to the door where Stueben and the fenkis had vanished. \"Take the lower path, you should beat them to the secret chamber. Remember, the bronze grape is the trip, the copper are poisoned. Talad be with you.\"

He holds out his hand for Tybis to grasp. Tybis holds the grip for a long moment before dashing off on the lower path to the mansion, snatching a shortbow and half full quiver off the ground as he runs. No matter what Jote said, Lelackard would pay this day. He was going to make the foul beast pay back the blood he had taken. And that swordsman was going to help him.

---added---

Tybis slowly enteres the columned room of the lower level. He isn\'t able to tell if anyone has been here yet, but the secret door is still closed. He walks to the third column on the left side of the entry, searching for the one bronze grape. Seeing it, he pulls out his dagger and pushes the grape with its tip. A tiny needle thrusts out from the center of the grape with a sharp click, the tip stained black. If he would have touched any of the copper grapes, a fine mist of deadly spores would have come forth, instead of the needle.

Sheathing the dagger, Tybis walks over to where a section of wall slowly slides open. Steps lead down into the dark, but not too dark for his nightvision. After thinking a bit, he walks over to one of the scones and pulls the torch loose, snufing it on the ground. He then goes back to the door, just in time to hear another click. The door begins to slide shut, but he jams the torch into the opening, stopping it, he had a glow crysal if he needed any light, anyways. He places a flint and steel on the torch and pulls his dagger again. Pulling a white cloth out of a pocket, he ties it over the blade -the sign of piece- and lays it next to the torch. If the swordsman and fenkies were behind him, this should be an open invitation for them. With that thought, he heads down the stairs, into the darkness, his anger and hate lighting the way...

[lyistra]

Lyistra and Emaarhe continue down the corridor, their paws quiet, the claws not even ticking on the stones, from fairly long practice on Emaarhe\'s part, having been used as an assassin and thief before.  The bardess, mostly from hunting, sometimes over stone.

Lyistra wanders, till she spots the white cloth, then blinks a litle, tilting her head as she gazes into the narrow opening.  She nods to Emaarhe, her gaze fierce, her tail flicking as she grasps the opening, using muscles she rarely does, trying to press it open, then grabs one of the nearby braziers, breaking a statue, then taking the iron spear to use as a lever.  She nods to Emaarhe, looking down the hole, her nightvision active, then pulls, the door slowly grating back a bit, till Steuben grasps the opening, and with a sort of groaning sound, something gives behind it, leaving the door open almost three feet.  She looks at the door, then nods. \"Well, this is either an obvious trap... or someone is definitely wanting us to find this.\" She growls.  \"By Talad\'s stone...\" She blushes. \"Umm.  Nevermind.\" She looks down, then shrugs, steps through.. not having anything hit her immediately, she looks around, small markings of paint of orange marking traps that have been disabled, or that can\'t be... she looks, nods. \"Some help, maybe.\" She whispers, grasping her blades.  She slings her lyre across her back, growling softly, then nods.  \"Well, they\'ll likely know we\'re here since Fen\'s... announcement, so let\'s go.\" She whispers, something dark and cold in her eyes, fire simmering under it all the hotter for the tight control.

Emaarhe nods a little. \"Let\'s give them a tune.\" She whispers.  She gives a kind of wry grin. \"I figure they deserve it.\" She gives a soft chuff sound, then deep rumble, almost going to a basso profundo, then a soft howling mrowl, then almost into chanting, which Lyistra joins, the echoes enjoining it into a kind of martial chanting that would stir the blood, or chill it, almost sounding like a hundred voices, or a thousand with the echoes... they continue down, to a large chamber, marked along the floor with some sand in a very specific pattern, a small amount of wear right around it, almost invisible.  She hmms, nods to Steuben, then looks at the mirrors on the sides, considering again.  She nods to Steuben, meanwhile Emaarhe just steps out on the pattern, her eyes showing she has nothing really left to lose, her paws following the trail, then finishing at the other side, still chanting the whole while.

[steuben]

steuben looks around the room. the wear pattern in floor indicate the style of usage. but, the actual usage itself he couldn\'t determine. as he looks at the pattern on the floor, it seems as if it is shifting. it is like the lines refuse to be fixed in his gaze.

he looks at the mirrors. they are arranged to that they bounce the images back between each other, or almost so. as he looks he sees the sligh curve of the path to the repeated reflections. he didn\'t believe in mirror magics. but, that doesn\'t stop other people from believing in it. he shifts the mirror so it points in a different direction.

as steuben shifts the other mirrors, he sees the look in emaarhe\'s eyes. he sighs and shakes his head. those with eyes like that, still had one thing left to lose. he shifts the last mirror a fair bit as he turns.

he crosses the markings on the floor. as he does so, it looks like he is moving through a severe storm. the bits of metal in his clothes have a blue nimbus around them. occasionally a small spark pops off. he stops in front of emaarhe. he pulls his sword out. the sparks pop numerously off of it. he drives the sword straigth down into the pattern. the stone beneath the tip splits from the force.

waves of force seem to ripple back and forth allong the pattern. the nimbus on the sword turns into a series of cold lightning bolts striking the ground around it. they leave no marks on the stone or the sand where they strike. the \"movement\" of pattern seems to have stopped where the sword has pinned it to the ground. but, the movement else where has seemingly become more frantic.

\"miss emaarhe. you will not simply throw your life away in this.\" he works to keep the tone of command out of his voice. \"vengence is an empty goal. it won\'t bring them back.\" he gestures towards the gallows. \"it won\'t undo what is done.\" he steps out of the pattern. he pulls his sword out of the stone. the sand resumes its previous appearence. \"i don\'t want to have to carry you out. but, if i have to at least make it work something.\"

ooc: sorry it took so long. had a serious case of block on this one.

[dying_inside]

Across the room in a shadowed corner an Enkidukai sipped quietly at his ale. He was larger that most others of his race and or slender build. A rogue by profession.

He tried hard to block out the songs and sink more into the shadows.  to  merge as one with them. He did not feel in the mood for songs. They either brought back painfull memories or didnt relate to his current mood.  and his current mood  was simple depression.  

He did not like to be seen upset . in fact he did not like to be seen.  People  came and went to quickly in his experiance before they left him with nothing or  were forcefully taken from him. So he had hardened  himself and blocked everyone out, he felt only the coldness and showed only coldness.  He had become a rogue for this reason, everything else ment people. Attachments to people.  This way he could meet people for a few seconds , exchange words and money and then be on his way to carry on his solitary life.

[Under the moon]

Tybis pauses at a set of huge black doors of a dull unknown material. There is no latch, no markings of any sort, in fact. But he knows of the doors\' secret. A secret passed through the ranks of guards for an time such as this. A time for revenge.

Slowly, he turns around and faces away from the doors, then backs up until his back is pressed to the cold surface. For a moment, nothing happens, but then a knocker appears before him, floating in mid-air. He reaches out and grasps the knocker, swinging it against nothing. The doors at his back vibrate silently in response, then slowly begin swinging inward.

Nodding to himself, Tybis takes the orange paint out of his arm pouch and begins writing on the now open doors. He is glad to put the paint to good use for once. Instead of marking his former master\'s prisoners and slaves with symbols of their supposed crimes, he had marked all the dangers for those who followed him. Each mark had felt like a declaration...a strike at the one who caused his beloved\'s death. Now, he writes out the instructions for opening the doors, then after a moment, starts writing again.

~To the Swordsman who gave me my life and the Fenkies at his side, I wish you safe passage though these doors. They will only open per the above instructions. I do not know your names, though I know your hearts. And my heart is the same. Be safe, and avenge those that have done you ill.

-Tybis

He steps back and moves to toss the vile paint away, but stops. He brings the paint to his own chest and draws a single rune on the breastplate. The rune for betrayal. He tosses the paint against the wall, shattering the jar. He was done with that life.

As he enters the door, the chanting that he had been hearing cuts off. At the \'Illusion\' room, if he wasn\'t mistaken. A small smile turns up the corners of his mouth. Maybe he should have left a mark telling that that room was no danger. His former master had just liked the way it looked and the pretty way it made steel glow. Ah well, they would find out soon enough. Besides, the real danger was behind these doors.


[ooc]Too be added to. There is something on the other side of those doors you need to see.

Tybis walks down the long, wide hallway on the other side of the doors. Behind him, he hears the doors close softly, hardly making a sound. The only light in the hall now comes from greenish glowing runes on the walls and high ceiling, giving everything a sickly pallid cast. The end of the hall opens up into a cavernous round chamber, hundreds of feet across. Columns circle the room, green runes adorning only the sides facing in, so what lies behind them is shrouded in deep shadow.

But what lies at the center of the enormous room is what holds his attention. Hundreds of black chains dangle from the darkness overhead. At the end of the chains, just below head level, hang glass spheres wrapped in iron straps. As Tybis approaches them, he sees that they are filled with a clear reddish liquid, which almost seems to have a glow of its own. Something is floating in each of the spheres. Tybis reaches out to touch one, but recoils in disgust as he realizes just what it is they contain. Bits of fur rest in the globe he had been about to touch. In the next one over floats the pointed ear of an elf. On the other side, an eye stares blindly out at him. He backs away slowly, fighting revulsion. In every one of the glass spheres floats a small part of a body, from hair to skin to fingers.

Tybis turns away, he had been ready to face anything, but not this. What sick purpose could this room serve? How many had suffered to complete this?

A noise from the darkness behind the columns cuts his thoughts short. Slowly, as if resisting each step, a figure emerges. Tybis gasps. He cannot believe his eyes. It simply can not be!

?Lowisha? It is you! But?I saw you?dead,? Tybis says and begins to rush towards her.

?No, Tybis?stop!? Lowisha forces through her teeth. She raises a dagger in a trembling hand.  ?Get away from me! I?I can?t stop myself.?

Tybis stops, nearly stumbling at her words. Why would his own wife hold a dagger to him? More footsteps from the dark proceed many more figures coming forth. Tybis shakes his head in disbelief. Most of them are in black, full plate armor and helms, but the ones that aren?t are the women he had just cut down from the gallows. The dead women?but they all alive.

?How?? Tybis asks, dazed.

?It is easy to fake a dead body, Tybis,? a man?s voice says from somewhere. ?All you have to do is convince everyone that they are really dead.?

A tall cloaked man steps out from behind Tybis?s wife and touches her cheek. She trembles, but doesn?t -or can?t- pull away. ?They make much better soldiers this way?or pets.?

Tybis stands in shock, finally seeing the black soldiers for what the were. They were all slender, even in their armor, not a one of them large enough to be a man. They were all women. The women he and his fellow guardsmen had thought dead. Their wives, their daughters, their sisters. All thought to be killed to ensure obedience. Alive?and enslaved.