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It is 10th December 718YE on Iralthia.


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Crossroads
Topic Started: 4 May 2011, 12:03 AM (1,152 Views)
Qen-Rae
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Firrah caught a surprised look of the mage before he attacked him. The figure didn´t even try to stop his assault, perhaps he already figured that magic is useless against the armour made for breaking spells...

The axe went through. Surprisingly easily. All the way, like it would cut through mere air.

"Do you think it will be that easy?!" voice of the mage sounded from above him. He was standing on the edge of the roof, with the flames behind him, looking down on the warrior.

Another one came from infront of Firrah. A precise copy of the one standing on the roof. And another one from side.

"Maybe I cannot hit you directly, but what about some decieving magic? Which one of us is real, dirty barbarian?" All the three images grinned on him.

Their grin, however, was short lasting. The dead soldiers around started raising again. That was Nirka´s doing.

"Come on Keran, show me what is in you! Try and deafeat us!" the banshee laughed. She was gripping Ngye´s staff in her hands now, releasing more and more souls from it. Bashees. Upset, crying ghosts, set afree after months, if not years of imprisonment. Those who didn´t find a dead body to bring up back to life were flying in the air and through the soldiers still left alive, bringing them down by their deadly touch.

So they did with the fake images of the mage. All of the copies dissolved. Now, only one real was left, the one standing on the roof.

"Rebels..."


"Take him down! Now!"
"There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so."
- Shakespeare
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Firrah Duerurt
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Watching the mage collapse to the ground with his head cleaved in twine, Firrah chuckled and reveled in the blood shed of the evening, enjoying the violence greatly. When the other mage mirrored himself two fake copies one real. He couldn't tell but he smiled and addressed them all with the same dangerous glare.

"There are three of you, you will all bleed all the same."

Turning and looking at the Banshee smiling with evil glee. Watching the fallen soldiers rise up with banshee spirits, now the odds were now even.

"Your time has come sunshine."
"Some men aren't looking for anything logical. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with. Some men, just like Firrah Duerurt, just want to watch the world burn."

- Bounty Hunter, two hours before being assassinated by Firrah.
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Qen-Rae
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Firrah wasn´t the only one to think that the tides were turning. No matter if he was an undead creature or not, the face of the mage displayed horror.

"You can´t!" he lashed with his hands around himself. "Sphaira Venere!" His figure, standing on the roof, hid itself inside a dark, purple-black-ish ball.

"Oh yes we can!" Nirka shouted in her high voice, letting out another insane laughter. Nive carefully backed from her in fear. She was surrounded by a cold biting aura, an outcome of her releasing a spell for raising dead and souls of Ngye´s staff.

The free spirits of the killed started attacking the sphere the mage was hidden inside. They were flying by it, trying to tear it by their etheral arms. As a creatures of dark, they had no power to even scratch the dark shield the mage summoned to defend himself...

"This is a direct rebellion against the Order! You will pay by your lifes for it!!" the mage inside the sphere shouted aloud.

"I am glad you understood what is going on," Nirka said with a grin. The possessed crossbowmen aimed their weapons.

A volley of three bolts flew through the dark shell. A silent cough was heard from inside. The force of the projectiles didn´t kill the undead mage, of course, but it pushed him a few steps back on the roof.

Closer to the flames the forces under his command set to the tavern.

"You can´t-!" he cried out from inside the shield.

"Oh of course I can!" Nirka slowly floated out of the tavern, staying by Firrah, watching the dark sphere up on the roof. "For the new order, for the freedom of me and my sisters! Fire!"

The crossbowmen launched another volley.
"There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so."
- Shakespeare
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Firrah Duerurt
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Listening to the babling of the dark mage, Firrah smiled and look up as the crossbow bolts shot out and flew across the sky, promising death. Firrah spat on the ground and turned to face Nirka and Nive with a sinister smile on his face.

"Well that was a spot of fun! What do you think Nirka? Nive?" Firrah asked knowing that the boy was sickened about the whole thing.
"Some men aren't looking for anything logical. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with. Some men, just like Firrah Duerurt, just want to watch the world burn."

- Bounty Hunter, two hours before being assassinated by Firrah.
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Qen-Rae
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The sphere in which the mage was hiding in lurched. The bolts pushed him over the edge of a hole in the roof and he fell back into the flames...

Nirka in the soldier´s body with the necromancer wand in hands only grinned when the disappearing figure let out a lout scream.

"Indeed, lots of fun," she agreed to Firrah. "Revenge is sweet," she said with an evil grimase. "Paemace! Take him!"

It was just a second before a stream of energy flow from the top of the roof to the wand in Nirka´s hands. Soon after, a bashee in her ghostly appearence stood besides her.

"It is done, sister."

Nirka brushed the cold, metal surface of the wand by hand.

"First of those who imprisoned us, in the prison of their own," she smiled victoriously. There was a cold, in a way happy yet evil look in the eyes of a body possessed by banshee.

"Excuse me, but... did you... did you trap his soul in... that??" Nive slowly walked to them, terrified of the events.

"Now and forever he should be a prisoner in that staff. And soon... more of them..."

"They are trying to get away! Get to the other side of the block!" a commander of the city guard shouted from the other side of the building of the burning tavern.
"There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so."
- Shakespeare
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Firrah Duerurt
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"We can talk about this later, we need to get out here."

Firrah looks around for an escape route, he casually looks at Nive watching his terrified face and smiles then when he hears the guards from the other side of the building.

"I'm more inclinded to go out there and kill'em all. But we should escape..."

Looking up at the roof of the surrounding buildings, Firrah looked at Nirve.

"We'll escape by the roof tops. Keep low so you can't be seen. Nirka, try and keep distraction. Boy, come with me."

Grabbing the boy by the arm and dragging him to the side of a building that wasn't on fire, connecting his hands together.

"Stick your foot in my hands, I will try and lift you up so you can get a handhold! GO!"
"Some men aren't looking for anything logical. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with. Some men, just like Firrah Duerurt, just want to watch the world burn."

- Bounty Hunter, two hours before being assassinated by Firrah.
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Qen-Rae
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Nive struggled slightly for the bit when Firrah pulled his hand violently, but eventually followed. He followed the warrior´s plan quickly, thanks to the fear of rather close death it took him just a moment to climb up on the roof and lay down on it, awaiting the others to follow.

"I will cover our escape, but I need a favor from you..."
the soldier possessed by Nirka walked next to Firrah, handing him the iron wand of Ngye. "Aside of the soul of the mage we trapped inside, this is an anchor for all the souls of banshees I released from it. Should we lose it, the Order would regain control over them. Carry it, I will be behind you shortly. I can afford losing this body. You can´t yours."

A clinging of armour and weapons sounded from behind the burning tavern. Part of the soldiers were battling eachother, some possessed by the banshees, other directly killed by the touch of the undead. The city guard wasn´t prepared to face powers of that kind, but the promise of real trouble was still hanging in the air...

"This won´t be easy, I am sure the Order didn´t send just these... we must get away from their sight or we will all be dead -or worse- soon."
"There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so."
- Shakespeare
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Firrah Duerurt
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Taking the iron wand and pushing it into his belt, he nodded to the banshee and began climbing the wall himself, using loose bricks and window sills as footholds, climbing as fast as he could the battle lust was rampaging through his body, his heart thundering in his ears.

Upon reaching the roof, Firrah drew his axes and crouched down low looking down into the street watching the battle for the moment then without warning he spun around and started to move quickly, still in his crouch.

"Come on boy!"

After getting some distance away he stood straight and began to run, not knowing where he was going at all.
"Some men aren't looking for anything logical. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with. Some men, just like Firrah Duerurt, just want to watch the world burn."

- Bounty Hunter, two hours before being assassinated by Firrah.
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Qen-Rae
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Nive got to run after him. Run straight into nowhere, in the night on the countless rooftops of the Capital. Their way kept twisting, as numerous streets cut into their way, too wide to jump over.

"Where are we going? Do you have any sort of-"

A loud, echoing sound interrupted him. A horn, somewhere in the city. And soon, another. A little higher. And another, a deep one. And another. And another. A cascade of them joining in a loud, stale noise.

"Sir, I recognise this! It´s the city alarm. Highest level! If we don´t- um," he gasped for breath. "Everybody in the city is forbidden to walk outside their houses and all who will be caught in the streets without soldier uniform or Order insignia will be killed on sight."

"That´s right. And you will be the first one, right before your banshee friend."
It was a hissing voice somewhere near Firrah´s ear. It was following him. Ngye. He didn´t have a body, he wasn´t even visible for a person who wasn´t mage, a "mere" spirit without any form.
"There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so."
- Shakespeare
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Firrah Duerurt
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Running as quick as he can, casually looking over his shoulder to watch Nive, leaping and weaving over and around chimneys, skidding to a halt as soon as he knees started to ache. Growling to himself angrily about how his body was feeling. Dropping himself low against the roof he waited for Nive to arrive. The ghostly voice annoyed him but he didn't reply.

"Nive, keeping running to the west, run a thousand paces and then stop and hide on the roof. I will cattch up with you."

Firrah stood up and started running to the east, a thousand paces he was going to so he could, hopefully, mislead their followers.

"At least I have a body. If I die, I am dragging to you to the abyss with me!"
"Some men aren't looking for anything logical. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with. Some men, just like Firrah Duerurt, just want to watch the world burn."

- Bounty Hunter, two hours before being assassinated by Firrah.
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