PI: Scouting and sorcery - Torc- 27th MT

Sevti · Post by **Sevti** » Sun Oct 29, 2006 3:05 am

The cacophony of sound as Mnnaguth and Thyren entered the clearing with someone the panling didn't recognize caused Sevti to turn her head. She had to blink once... then again... to make sure that the half-giant hadn't twinned. But he resolved into one large, angry being heading in Torc's direction.

She recognized the signs of Blood coming over her companion and winced. I almost feel sorry for Torc, she thought as she struggled beneath the strands of force. As she tried to force her shoulders from the ground, she heard the unfamiliar voice call out her attackers name. Her heart began to sink at having to deal with another betrayer when he then called the large panling by name as well. Who the nethers IS he? she wondered briefly before turning her attention back to her own predicament.

The petite woman watched Torc's attention move from her to the charging figure and a brief moment of hope invaded her thoughts. With his attention on Mnnaguth, he would not be able to continue his magic on her. Yet the lines of force didn't seem to get any weaker. No stronger, it was true, but not enough for her brief struggles to allow her to break free. Red started to tinge her vision as she thought of what was about to play out before her.

I'll be DAMNED if I'm going to let anyone else get first shot at him, she thought angrily, letting herself release to the least familiar of Pan's worship. He's mine! The combination of Pan's Blood and the anger of a woman scorned and betrayed surged through her as she fought against her bindings, her hand snaking down her thigh to pull her dagger from it's shealth so she would be ready when she finally could break free.

Post by **Grant** » Sun Oct 29, 2006 7:44 pm

The strands holding Sevti down were still potent enough to keep her down. She managed to free her dagger, but the strands would not give, pressing down upon her as if a series of tent ropes tied from stakes secured her there. She could shift beneath them...and they grew slightly more elastic and pliant as she struggled...but they did not break, easily strong enough to do the job for now.

It was a curious dilemma for Torc to manage. Intent to stand his ground, he never broke or departed, standing firm as if he might take the half-giant's charge and perhaps overcome the beast. After all, he knew a few things about using his weapon...and his opponent didn't have the luxury of clear, tactical awareness at that particular moment. Still, the half-giant stood around eight feet tall...and carried a iron-bound quarterstaff that nearly topped that height again. As Mnnaguth closed upon the pair, it was clear that his great reach would make any counter strikes from Torc quite difficult indeed...or at the very least very hazardous.

WHOOSH!

When the staff came forward at the completion of the half-giant's charge, it came in the form of a swinging lunge that brought it's iron-bound tip dangerously close to Torc's much smaller person...and left the attacker almost ten feet away from any response Torc could give save to the weapon itself. Glancing into his shoulder and head, Torc was forced to evade to his right to avoid the full, crushing force of the blow, taking only glances instead...glances that still shocked him and left him a few paces back away from Sevti as well. It became instantly obvious to Torc that the force of the massive half-giant's attacks might be sufficient such that he couldn't even hope to parry it's staff directly. Few swords could withstand that kind of beating...and even fewer swordsmen could maintain their hold upon a weapon so struck.

Where Gotham stood, he could see the fight begin, with the half-giant reaching Sevti and swinging out such that Torc was forced to evade back, unable to get under the staff's reach initially. If Gotham's words were heard by the half-giant, he demonstated no sign of understanding. Hardly a surprise considering the nature of Pan's Blood. The eight foot Mnnaguth would not easily release the rage he had only just embraced.

Gotham Devoue · Post by **Gotham Devoue** » Tue Oct 31, 2006 12:37 am

The weary crusader didn't even bother with the two fighting. By passing the fighting children, he went directly to the paralyzed woman. He pulled out the medallion that Paloma had given him to convince the panling. "Friend," he said in elvish, not knowing what language the maiden spoke. "Here to help," he added, not a mere flicker after.

"Can you move?"

Torc Blackfoot · Post by **Torc Blackfoot** » Tue Oct 31, 2006 9:02 am

Torcâ€™s aether vision wobbled as he took a hit. Thank the One I would hate to see what the backlash from the uncompleted weave would cause. So he continued to back away from the Half Giant, and wondered what he could do to overcome the enraged warrior.

Torc realized his error, the half-giant had too much reach with his quarterstaff. So it was time to turn his advantage into Torc own advantage. With care he back up into the woods upon the edge of the clearing. The fool was in a rage and he would probably use large strong strokes with his quarter staff. Those strokes would be caught by the trees; overhand strokes would be foolish for the branches above. No, he could thrust, but beyond that it Torc needed to wait for the half-giant to get his quarterstaff entangled. Then he could strike, and force the enraged fool down.

Edit: added Italics[/i]

Sevti · Post by **Sevti** » Tue Oct 31, 2006 11:37 am

The anger that was within the diminutive panling was not easily let go when Gotham approached. Though, truthfully, it was far easier to cut through Sevti's haze of rage than it was Mnnaguth's. It had just begun to take her over, and, unlike her larger brother in faith, had far less experience in releasing herself to Pan's Blood.

Still, it took several flickers for ther words he was saying to have an effect on the girl. She turned her dark eyes toward him angrily, wanting to find a way to attack this new threat. It wasn't the medallion that caught her attention but the words spoken in adhiel. The uncontrollable anger receeded as Sevti blinked, then blinked again. Only then did she notice the medallion. Her eyes widened with surprise. He must be the one that they captured in Gatetown before I left. How else would he...?

Sevti shook her head, both to clear the thoughts in favor of more productive ones as well as to answer the young man's question. "Nin," she replied, first in adhiel then in human tongue. "At least, not enough to rise." Her right hand held tightly to the dagger as she demonstrated, trying once more to struggle free herself from her bonds.

Determined, she looked to Gotham once more. "Please tell me that you know how to undo this magic," she implored him. "Because if Mnnaguth has his way, the bastard will be dead and I'll be stuck here forever." As she spoke of Torc, her gaze turned in his direction, watching him retreat from the angry half-giant.

Gotham Devoue · Post by **Gotham Devoue** » Tue Oct 31, 2006 7:03 pm

How to break the bond... how to break the bond... he furiously questioned. Gotham knew very little of magic properties, since he was a man of the cloth. The white knight has his own powers, but they were for healing - something he might have to do to one of these barbarics after they were done with their squabble.

Gotham never answered her whether or not he knew how to do it. He didn't want to lie to her, just in case he couldn't do it. However, he would have just told her he didn't have the slightest of ideas, but he didn't truly doubt himself, so he tried whatever came to mind.

What he did next was something he would have never thought he could even attempt. The crusader had saved Allegra from dying by using his undeveloped healing skills. It was by pure accident that that panling didn't cease to be in this world, since Pan had wished it otherwise. He knelt on the ground beside Sevti and placed the amulet on her chest. "Fight with your mind, not your body," moving his hands over her being he attempted to conjure whatever he had before. If one cared to noticed they would see him meditating - whispering softly so no one could hear but himself. If the woman focused on his low voice instead of the background battle she would of hear him repeating "protection," over and over again. He was a protector of life, and he wasn't about to give up only because he was lost on the situation.

Seeing what aether threads he could, he focused on the darkest red of the energy strands and tried to weave it around her body instead of through. The man thought that maybe he could funnel his talent into a shield to counter the one that had already been placed upon her.

Post by **Grant** » Mon Nov 06, 2006 8:18 pm

As Sevti struggled against the unseen bonds that held her, she could tell that they were weakening...and weakening quickly as the magus retreated away from her. The bonds only held her down, not in place...like a heavy blanket of lead that could not be lifted or moved, but could not keep her from moving out from beneath it in time. Gotham quickly recognized the retreating mage as Torc...but he could see nothing of Torc's magic, for he knew nothing of the Aether and could offer little in the way of assistance. It was with something not unlike alien faith that he placed his amulet upon the downed woman, but he could not tell what effect, if any, this could have.

Elsewhere, in the forest...

It was expected, but Torc could hardly consider himself ready. The half-giant's swings continued right upon until he had backed into the trees themselves, it's iron-bound haft splintering branches and saplings when it swung. The mage had been forced back further than he had expected...perhaps ten yards or more...and the giant watched him with almost savage, determined cunning. It shifted the eight-foot, iron-bound staff from an open swung to a closed grip, a stance similar to how one might hold a short spear, such that Torc now faced the end of his staff instead of the swinging haft.

...and once again, the giant advanced, his pace slow but his intentions as certain as ever. Crunch...crunch...crunch... he advanced, his staff never entangling as the mage had hoped, proof that the half-giant was not entirely beyond his mind with rage, and that he had at least some knowledge of how to properly wield a staff. Thankfully, Torc still held some advantage, for a staff was a horribly inadequate weapon in the dense wood...and the mage had a few flickers before the creature was upon him again.

Elsewhere still...

Zeke heard it...and so did Scipio. The sound was not unlike a bull charging through the woods...and there were screams, screams not unlike an angry, blood-thirsty child. The pair exchanged a concerned look...faeries in the woods!...before both reached up to remove the hunting bolts from their arcballistae...thin, light bolts designed to snatch game bird from the air...and replace them with bolts of war. These bolts were large, heavy, savage creations featuring razor-sharp, barbed, steel tips that, from a proper crossbow, could be shot through a suit of steel plate armors.

Gesturing towards the sound, Zeke issued his commands with the swift, silent celerity of an experienced scout. Two fingers towards his eyes, one jabbed towards the sound, then a closed fist making a punching motion in the same direction. Scipio nodded once in response, and both men separated and advanced, crouched low and listening closely to the heated exchange that seemed to be approaching them through the foliage ahead.

Torc Blackfoot · Post by **Torc Blackfoot** » Wed Nov 08, 2006 12:24 pm

Torc knew he was losing, without one more thing to tip the scales all this was going to come crashing down in some bad archmageâ€™s experiment. Torc could keep dodging but then the weave would spin out of his control. He to return to the clearing but that destoryed his little advantage. So since the weave was anyway, he summoned it to him.

It was fast and strong summons. The weave he started moved towards him with great haste, so that he could throw it over the half giant, He hoped it would give him at least a few flickers. Just one opening to cripple this half giant, something so small that would put this blood raged warrior down, and if this didnâ€™t work, he would have the full force of the enemy on him.

By the One please let this work, I just need to put this fellow down before others come.

Gotham Devoue · Post by **Gotham Devoue** » Sat Nov 11, 2006 5:12 pm

The man of Pan whisper harsh curses under his breath when his plan didn't work. He wanted it to work and to be the hero, but the surely wasn't the case. With the half-giant taking most of Torc's time Gotham was able to at least talk the woman through it.

"I don't know how," he said finally, taking back the amulet he had placed on her. "You need to do it yourself, try..." Gotham added. "I'm going to go and help Mnnaguth."

Peering at the battling couple, he wonder if the giant could win. He didn't doubt him, Gotham knew that the achadhiel was a formidable opponent. Maybe not in the sense of war, but he was surely a gifted mage and that was something that scared Gotham. He saw the conjuring of fire and weaving energy to force people to be submissive was the worst of it. Unlike World's Mouth and the Citadel, these people were more intune with their surroundings and so the forest lent them their gifts. The woods bent to their will and they were in a communication that little people even knew let alone understood. Gotham was no shaper, and surely was not sorcerer.

"The oneists are in the woods," he mentioned to her. "Before I left the Oneist camp, their was a party of trackers sent to the panlings. I'm here to stop that. I have a lot to explain, but trust me, I'm all you have. As soon as you're free of him, run. Beckon to the forest, it will listen if you need help. I need to help Mnnaguth."

Taking his scythe, a weapon made for this environment, he proceed to the fighting pair. It was all too familiar, and this was not how Gotham saw the day going. "Torc, what are you doing?" He shouted over the heavy breathing and frantic looks. "All you have to do is stop and you won't die. Keep it up and you'll hit the ground before the Oneists get here. You came with them, didn't you? You're leading them to Gatetown. That cannot happen. Don't you get it? We came here to slaughter them... not save them. Open your eyes," he said it all while walking towards him. "I will stop you if need be, choose your side," his hands tightening on the shaft of his weapon. No one probably noticed it unless they were looking for a sign of assult.

Post by **Grant** » Mon Nov 13, 2006 6:41 pm

While he couldn't understand the particulars of what transpired, Gotham was quite experienced...and he knew the moment the situation had changed. All at once, the strange, unseen binds that held Sevti in place were gone...disappeared such that she could move freely. For Sevti the sensation was not unlike rising up out of the sea in which she had been submerged, her breath coming easily and her body as light as a feather. Her temple still throbbed from the strike she had received from the Westerner, but this only served to fuel her ready anger, a rage she could tap on a moment's notice.

Having already determined that he could do little to help, Gotham had already risen and drawn a weapon...and he now moved towards the cut path of the savage half-giant, the great beast hulking and towering over Torc such that Gotham had some difficulty seeing the Westerner. Sprinting to join the fight, Gotham closed upon the pair in the woods quickly...just in time to see the half-giant stagger.

----

The weave was doomed, besieged by the potent attacks of the woman held beneath. Torc knew his weave could not last long, even as he withdrew...but before it broke completely, he tried to manipulate his casting to bring the bundled knots of power towards him to crash into the back of the half-giant. Changing the weave of a spell as it was powered was no simple feat...and while Torc managed to do just this, he could feel the strands disperse before they reached the giant, unable to offer anything more than a light breeze against the warrior's back by the time they arrived. The spell had been broken...and for a very brief moment, Torc was disorganized and disoriented due to the spell's collapse. He could expect nothing short of death, as another of the Panlings...a man he recognized as Gotham...charged up behind the half-giant, his own weapon out and at the ready.

But before the half-giant could crash his iron-bound staff down upon Torc's dazed form, a bolt of steel appeared in it's abdomen, sprouting from the lower left portion of it's rib cage and crashing through the warrior's rib and sinking deep into the lung beyond. "Ooolp!" grunted the monstrosity, it's blood quickly welling up around the wound. Torc couldn't see from where the bolt had come...but it must have come from somewhere behind him, further away from the forest clearing.

Gotham, however, knew perfectly well from where the bolt had come. Beyond the stricken half-giant and the staggering form of Torc, there were soldiers...soldiers of the West armed with their dreaded crossbows...weapons that were considered illegal in the Empire of the Seven Isles, though Gotham knew them quite well indeed. Nothing else could cause such trauma in a fury-stricken half-giant. Even as he watched, another of the soldiers lifted his arcballista and sighted it towards the Panlings, holding his shot until he was certain that the half-giant would fall.

"Magus! Stay low...withdraw to us!" came a human shout in a very Western accent, as one of the approaching soldiers called out such that Torc, Gotham, and Sevti could easily hear.

Gotham Devoue · Post by **Gotham Devoue** » Mon Nov 13, 2006 11:40 pm

Gotham spun immediately as he saw the bolt bury itself into the giant's lower body. The crusader knew of weaponry, it wasn't his specialty, but he knew enough of it that he grasped the magnitude of the situation long before the other three had. Proceeding back to the woman he lowered his weapon and as soon as he got close enough for only Sevti to hear, he said, "Sevti, the Oneists are here. I am sorry to have to do this, but I have to take you into custody. It's a front to make them believe I am still with them. If you protest you will be killed, and I do not want that to happen... let alone be the one to do it. Please, by Pan, play along."

Fear soared through his mind and as he was finished talking to her, he walked around her and placed the blade low on her back. It would be a crippling slice, if that's what it came to and that's what the crusader wanted it to look like. "Please..." he muttered under his breath. Ushering her forward he put no pressure on his weapon, it wanted a facade of him forcing the panling to the others.

"Over here!" he yelled to the soliders in the woods. "I've got one!" he exclaimed in an excited voice. He played it like it was hide and seek and they were the seekers. Fuck! he thought as he stood behind the woman. Blood already was seeping onto Mnnaguth's clothing. It was a deep wound, but nothing Gotham couldn't fix. It was his area of expertise, the healing of others. It was something that he prided himself in, mainly due to his mother. He waited from someone to come and collect Sevti, so he could fix another problem that had occured.

Torc Blackfoot · Post by **Torc Blackfoot** » Tue Nov 14, 2006 9:06 pm

Failure and with it the sweet release of death. It was the final thought that went threw Torcâ€™s mind as he saw his weave change but break down as he tore it from Sevti. It was a desperate attempt, but one he had to try. In ways, death was a sweet release from the humiliation and burden of sin from being a half breed. The staff rose as Gotham spoke his ramblings of how if Torc decided to switch sides then he would be miraculously forgiven.

Somehow the half giant made it all easier. The final decision was given on the end of an iron shod quarterstaff. In a way Torc felt the greatest sense of relief ever bestowed upon him. Torc finally released all his anger towards his father for being a failure and a drunk. He released the terrible need to know his mother and the ever present question of why did she choose to carry a sin. Torc could finally release the unacknowledged love he had for Alexandrya. No more wanting to tell her that he loved her and knowing that she could never love him that way. Torc uncoiled and release that sickening tightness of feeling like a sin before the One everyday of his life, and even the humiliation and disgrace of failing at magic left him as he knew the staff would come down shortly upon his head.

As Torc tried to regain his composure from the release of the weave and the great effort he had been sustaining in it. Somehow he felt empty. For with the certainty of death he saw the achadiel he could become. A man of green and gold would bring forth goodness and kindness to the other halfbreeds in the Worldâ€™s Mouth. He was just a small seed of what he could become, but now he would die and that brought its own serenity.

Then the crossbow bolt hit! The half Giant was pierced and a voice telling Torc to fall back came from the distance. Torc crouched as best as he could and moved as quickly as he could to the Westernâ€™s voice.

I am saved! Praise the One! Then just a view flickers more another thought came to Torc. I am a failure once again at magick. And with that humbling thought the onion layers of Torc began to squeeze back around him. All the things he had released fell back into place, and once again he was a slave to his past, a servant to his God, and a fool in love.

One other thing came across Torc mind. How is Gotham going to convince these other tow men that he isnâ€™t a turncoat when I tell them that he is?

Post by **Grant** » Fri Nov 17, 2006 6:05 pm

"Reload, Scipio," barked Zeke, rising up to get a better look at the scene before him. Torc could hear his voice somewhere off to his right, but due to his crouched movements he could not see the older man.

Pointing the balestra down towards the earth, Scipio wedged one of his feet into the looped end of the belly where the prod crossed over. His crossbow was rather typical of those from World's Mouth...a heavy, steel affair featuring a composite metal prod along with a brass nut and tricker assembly. His was a cross between a pull-lever and a ratchet assembly for loading, the pull lever rotating the ratchet over sturdy pawls to crank the wire back with a few quick pumps of the lever instead of a winch or windlass. With the crossbow resting down upon the ground, the young soldier quickly charged his crossbow once more, preparing for another devastating shot that could produce over twice the delivered force of any regular bow. Craaaaank....craaaaaank....

"The magus is with me!" called Scipio as he continued to charge his crossbow. Craaaank...

Peeking through the foliage, Zeke spotted Gotham and Sevti, the lady free of the spell and rising to her feet once more...and he easily heard Gotham's shouts declaring her arrested. Between where Torc crouched with Scipio and where Gotham shouted his ruse, the thrashing form of the half-giant rolled upon the ground, clearly in unbearable pain and unable to extract the blood-coated bolt from his shoulder. After hearing Gotham's call, Zeke spoke up.

"Forget the girl and come with us," called Zeke. The older woodsman recognized Gotham's accent, and it didn't seem too outrageous that the half-giant might have kept him as a hostage...so he chose to give Gotham the benefit of the doubt. "We're not here to take prisoners! Just leave her...and get over here!"

Sevti · Post by **Sevti** » Sat Nov 18, 2006 2:28 pm

With the release of the tightening force around her, Sevti no longer needed to divide her attention. Instead, the full force of anger settled around her like a cloak, warming her from the inside. Staggering slightly as she rose, she withdrew her blade once more. She was ready to follow Gotham, ready to seek revenge upon the Oneists in the form of Torc.

Then the bolt pierced through Mnnaguth's abdomen - a bolt that, while she couldn't name, she recognized in it's deadliness. Many such bolts littered the bodies of the Panlings when she and Abeo went to rescue her father. Her eyes scanned the surrounding foliage, seeking the source of the attack. She started to crouch down, trying to make her already small form an even tinier target when Gotham approached.

His first words were lost to her, so intent was she on trying to find a means of escape, so intent on looking for more betrayal. "... let alone be the one to do it. Please, by Pan, play along," were the only words that sunk in.

And then she felt the blade at her back and, for the second time that day, the sting of betrayal came to her. Paloma was mistaken! We had a spy in our midst. I'll be damned if I'm going to die by his hand, or be 'reeducated' or whatever the nethers their priests will try to do to me. I still have things to do and these bastards aren't going to keep me from it! Horned One, please protect me!

The words from one of the hidden bowman reached her ears and she snorted mentally. Riiiight. They're just going to let me go. Not a chance. I need to do this myself.

With the thinnest of threads, she held Pan's Blood at bay. The overwhelming force she had seen in Abeo when he fought would not serve her now, not when she was out-numbered by experienced fighters and she with only a dagger. With a move she had perfected in the tavern when trying to keep away from the groping hands of pushing customers, she tried to slide from Gotham's grasp. Her dagger remained ready in her hand, wanting to find a home in anyone who would prevent her from escape.

If only I can get back into the cover. If I can get to Thyren, at least I won't be alone. And then, maybe, hopefully, I can come back to save Mnnaguth, she thought as she tried to move away from her captor.

Gotham Devoue · Post by **Gotham Devoue** » Sat Nov 18, 2006 8:03 pm

The situation had spun completely out of control. Gotham didn't particularly want the control, just for things to be in order, and surely, at ends of the crossbows things were not in order. He was started when Zeke summoned him to him. Were they doing to bolt down Sevti and the half-giant. None of the people here could save him aside for the crusader. However, if he blew his cover, then all was lost and they would all suffer the same fate as the bleeding creature before all of them. His eyes darted from person to person looking for the edge that he needed to save the woman.

The blade was removed from behind her back and he leaned in with the shaft gone and said, "Run." It was a shallow whisper and if anyone saw it didn't matter. "I'll stand in the way so you can get a head start. They'll have to shoot me first in order to get to you," he went to stand in front of her, moving slower than Trothgardian icebergs. With his back to the lady she had her chance to kill him if she wanted, and it was a sign of trust and a foe never turns their back. They were allies whether she wanted to believe it or not.

If Sevti didn't attack him, he proceeded to the group of Oneists, casually. As he closed the distance he was muttering, "Don't shoot, don't shoot... not yet." If Gotham was able to get to them he might be able to stop them before they could slaughter the panling. Gotham would stand in the way - it was up to the gods to decided his fate.

Torc Blackfoot · Post by **Torc Blackfoot** » Sun Nov 19, 2006 9:40 am

Thud! Thud! Torcâ€™s heart was pounding still from his brush with death. Yet once he neared Scipio he finally felt a little safer. Zeke was right we didnâ€™t need prisoners, so why did I try to take that girl prisoner. A part of Torc still wanted to take Sevti prisoner. He wanted her for less the pure intentions; it was a craving not unlike his thirst for knowledge, wanting that dull ache of loneliness to go away. Yet it was too much, no matter what reaction was given forth from Torcâ€™s loins, his mind scream the impossibility of any relationship with a pagan.

She would have to have been a prisoner in order for them to be together. Yet the darker part of Torcâ€™s reasoning had showed itself during the brief moment of clarity. Torc had done it, because he wanted to be alone. It was like some never ending bottle of dark honey. All the self pity, hatred, and horrid thoughts all contained and ready at a moments notice. In a way it was like his father, Torc drank from the bottle of loathing, he drank deep and as often as he wanted. It was pure and he hadnâ€™t known when he started to enjoy it, but now it quenched him like no other thing.

Torc needed to drink from that bottle, and for every time he did it hollowed out a little more in him. Yet the great thing about it was that the bottle was always within reach. It loved him and Torc caressed it like it was supple woman. Hugging its curves, bringing it forth and close to him at a moments notice, for it fulfilled him. Even though the emotions hollowed him more; he could drown himself in them. Feel himself float on top of the sea of emotions and continue threw out the day, with them stewing in his soul.

Why did Torc betray the panling? Because he was a drunk like his father, except his drink of choice was self loathing, and pushing her away would fuel him for years to come, and so as Zeke and Gotham began there own tirade Torc reawakened from his introspective state he cried out.

â€œNO! Zeke! Scipio! Heâ€™s gone native! Heâ€™s working with them!â€

Post by **Grant** » Mon Nov 20, 2006 8:31 pm

The woodsman known as Zeke watched closely as Gotham rose and moved away from Sevti...and he lowered his crossbow and prepared to move out. With the magus recovered safely, there was little point to remain further...and with the half-giant thrashing around in the forest, bleeding out his life, they had already committed themselves far further than any scout should be required. "Let's go, buddy. Hurry along!" he hissed at Gotham, clearly unconcerned about Sevti, content to leave her hiding in the underbrush.

Torc wrote:â€œNO! Zeke! Scipio! Heâ€™s gone native! Heâ€™s working with them!â€

Instantly the crossbow was up once again, leveled at Gotham where he stood not four yards away...but Gotham knew at once that he brought up his crossbow without any great conviction. "Or maybe you should just walk away, too. Just turn around...and walk away," he ordered...words that did hold complete conviction in them. As he spoke he took a step back, preparing for his own retreat.

"Sir, let's go!" snapped Scipio a dozen yards away, his hand reaching down to clutch at Torc with some anxiety. Scipio's weapon was charged, but he demonstrated no interest in using it...choosing instead to make good on their retreat away from the thrashing, suffering half-giant in the forest. "Sir, let's go now!" he repeated, pulling Torc back a few steps and further into the woods.

----

Sevti could see one of the Westerners now, a ranger of some sort that held Gotham in place with his crossbow. Gotham had approached and stood perhaps four or five paces away from the soldier yet, placed directly between her and the crossbow's deadly charge. To her left...and perhaps a dozen paces from those two men...she could see Mnnaguth thrashing in the foliage, his thrashing having grown sluggish and slow due to his extreme loss of blood. Even from this distance, Sevti knew that the would was severe...but not life-threatening if it received some kind of attention. However, that attention must come very soon, for his flesh had changed to a most unhealthy shade of dull gray and the forest floor was muddy with blood...proof that he hadn't much left to lose before his life would be forfeit.

Torc Blackfoot · Post by **Torc Blackfoot** » Wed Nov 22, 2006 3:34 pm

Torc watched Gotham closely; any man that would betray his kind couldnâ€™t be completely sane. â€œScipio, stop your pulling, aim the crossbow at the man and allow Zeke a larger lead before we back up.â€ Aye, it was stupid for him not to run, but Zeke was the better tracker by far, and if they had any hope of coming across this pagan city, they needed Zeke. Torc probably could back track the half giantâ€™s steps, just as long as the half giant wasnâ€™t a scout himself.

No, Torc was a good tracker, but then again tracking a large man who didnâ€™t know how to move threw the forest wasnâ€™t that hard of a task. Still there was the worry that he would be left with the young Scipio. Though loyal, they couldnâ€™t complete the mission without Zeke. It just depended on Gotham.

Come on you fool, walk away, walk away! Torc screamed the thoughts at Gotham. He wanted the man to be gone. In fact Gotham was probably the worst omen in Torcâ€™s life. Everytime he appeared Torc had experience pain or the fear of death. Aye, he wanted Gotham to leave, or if he was foolish enough to try for Zeke, then he hoped the bolt would pierce his gullet.

Torc almost wanted to be a battle mage or some elementalist. Just strike down Gotham with a lighting bolt or ice shard. Wave his hands and cause a fog to appear. Fogâ€¦ Torc had dealt with the haze of divination, but could that have a physical manifestation? Torc shudder at the thought, and slowly began to but it was in a wide circle pattern so that he could provide Zeke some cover. Slowly Torc weaved his hands in the rune of warding. Fingers tracing threw the air, hands moving to trace a trail with his fingers threw the air. To Torc it calmed him. The hand gestures gave depth to the rune. Depth that could never be traced on paper and a small sound came to Torc in the depth of his mind. It was music and a tone at the same time; it was the impression of the runes. Torc had always felt they vibrated threw out the world, and the purest form of any rune would pulse across all barriers.

As Torc watched Zeke waiting for the man to back up, the gestures focused his mind, allowing the stress to melt away and Torc focused on the feeling, the tone, that inner sense that was the rune of warding.

Gotham Devoue · Post by **Gotham Devoue** » Thu Nov 23, 2006 4:33 am

"Watch your step," was all Gotham said before turning his back on the people he had come to the isle with. The kanthrops were out and about, and they were a more deadlier foe than the crusader would ever be. He was also sure that Torc knew nothing of the fae, and how they were already summoning their allegiance. It was a cold move, but their were others who needed his help... and he wondered if aiding people would be the death of him. It was a notion that left his mind just as quick has it had wandered in.

Walking over to the thrashing man, Gotham looked at him from a standing point of view. His pack slid to the ground with a loud sound and it was really the shuffling of bottles and bandages. He placed his scythe on the ground and pondered if Sevti would take it and wound him. He didn't really care since the half giant was his priority. She can kill me later if she wants.. he contemplated.

The white knight knelt down and placed a hand on the massive chest, trying to soothe the wounded person. "You need to calm down or you'll go into shock. And then I can't help you," he whispered. Laying out what he needed - clotting herbs, bandages and antiseptics - he took a deep breath and looked at the bolt sticking out of Mnnaguth. With the amount of time that it took to actually get to the Amunic denizen he decided that there wasn't enough healing properties that could stop the bleeding fast enough.

Deep breath after deep breath Gotham centered himself for the miraculous. He didn't know if it was beyond his abilities, but he knew that Pan was watching and waiting to see if there truly was big plans for the Oneist turned. Placing his hand around the malignant object he ripped it out. Blood splattered his clothing and hands and it didn't phase him in the least. He pressed his hands against the raw flesh and prayed.

"Pan, lover of tricks, I fear that this is no trick. One of ours is gravely wounded and I do not know if he has the strength to recuperate on his own. The Oneist are plaguing this land and whether it is your will or not, I will not allow it," he said softly. His mild prayer shifted into a mediative state and the man thought of a way to comfort Mnnaguth's spiralling mind. "Sevti, come here and sing to him, lull him with your song. Pour your joy of life and love of nature into it," and to Gotham it was a wonderful idea. If they could work as a team and get him into a tranquil state, the Mouthie could do his work faster and better.

Sevti · Post by **Sevti** » Mon Nov 27, 2006 3:32 pm

As she watched Mnnaguth thrash about in the foliage, Sevti knew she had no choice. He's been hurt because of me,she thought. I don't know what I'll do, but I have to do SOMETHING.

As quickly as she could, the Panling scurried through the bushes to Mnnaguth's side, hoping that the Westerner's attention wouldn't switch to her as she moved. Pan, grant me help! she prayed as she reached the half-giant's side.

The sound of Gotham's reply, followed by the pad of his footsteps, seemed like an answer to those prayers. She looked up, watching the Westerner approach. The gentle words he spoke to Mnnaguth gave her hope. She watched him pull items from his bag with authority. Thank you, Pan, for sending someone to save him. The diminutive girl sat back on her heels, ready in case he needed something of her.

His next words dashed her hopes. He's praying to Pan? Oh, Horned One, please answer his prayers. Even if he isn't one of yours, he's praying for one of yours. And my prayers follow his. Please, Pan, help him save your faithful.

Sevti felt so helpless. If this man, with his herbs and bandages, had to pray for guidance, there was nothing more that she could do. Bandaging Abeo's wound was one thing. This....

"Sevti, come here and sing to him, lull him with your song. Pour your joy of life and love of nature into it." Gotham's words reached her ears and she breathed a sigh of relief. This, she could do. Would it help? She didn't know, but it was better than just sitting, watching the lifeblood of her fellow Panling seep into the ground.

Coming closer to the pair, she placed one soft hand on Mnnaguth's forehead and closed her eyes. With barely a thought, she began to sing. The notes started softly, barely able to be heard by the three of them. At first it was vocalizations, no words just the feeling of Joy starting low within her. As it began to build, the notes became louder and the vocalizations turned to words. The song that came out was unplanned, choosing to let Pan's spirit move her rather than forcing the music to bend to her will. It started as a song from Temple, a song which blended Joy, Art and Blood into an equal whole.

But soon the song changed. First it was the tune that changed. The melody wandered away from it's begins, then came back again only to leave onto it's own path once more. It twined around itself, growing, expanding, yet always seeming to keep it's roots in the same melody.

Then the words moved from the familiar to the inspired. Rather than just a song about all of Pan's worshipers being one, it became a song about the invasion of their land, of the differences between themselves and the Oneists, of their need to come together, to blend into one for the salvation of all. It, too, moved on to the smaller picture of their tiny band, heading to rescue one of their own.

Through it all, Sevti poured in every emotion. The love she felt for Pan, for her people, for her parents, for Abeo. The anger she felt at the invasion, the fury when she saw the child killed in front of her, the betrayal she felt at Torc's false welcoming. And most importantly, the Joy that she felt in being alive, in sharing that life with her family, her friends, her god, in meeting Mnnaguth and Thyren, in knowing that some of the enemy - like Gotham - knew what they did was wrong. The Joy of her music, the Joy of her anger, the Joy of her pleasure.

She poured everything she had into her song and prayed that it would be enough.

Post by **Grant** » Thu Nov 30, 2006 8:32 pm

In another moment, the tense face-off was over.

"They withdraw," came Scipio's hissed whisper as he raised his charged crossbow once more...though he and Torc had withdrawn well into the forest beyond sight of Gotham or Sevti. The weak, piteous thrashings of the injured half-giant could be heard in the distance, but no other evidence could be detected to prove that the encounter had actually happened...save perhaps for the flushed expression on Zeke's face when he joined the pair a few moments later. He nodded to both men and then crouched low, glancing back towards where the Panlings had been left.

"That went well," he whispered, exchanging a broad, confusing smile with the other woodsman. He was completely unaware of Torc's efforts to protect him and his retreat.

---- Elsewhere... ----

In moments, both Gotham and Sevti were huddled near the fading half-giant inspecting his horrifying wound. A swift evaluation proved to Gotham that the half-giant could be saved, though the wound was a critical one with the bolt plunged deep into Mnnaguth's right lung. To pull the bolt would be fatal, even if Gotham could manage it...which seemed unlikely given the slick sheen of blood coating the smooth metal missile combined with the horrible barbs that were designed to hold the quarrel within. Even if he could muster the immense strength necessary to rip the bolt free, the trauma of such a treatment would surely kill the Panling immediately. There would be no extraction of the bolt without careful cutting.

Considerably less experienced in the nature of serious injury, Sevti could offer only prayer for the felled half-giant. At best, she could fortify him against the rigors of Gotham's attentions...and allay the effects of shock that, while mysterious to Sevti's rather limited understand of physical healing, were very well-known to anyone that dealt with injuries. Shock and infection claimed more lives than any weapon ever could, and Mnnaguth stood a very fair chance to lose his fight to either of those if Gotham's efforts should fail.

A few flickers after Sevti began to sing, Mnnaguth stopped thrashing and opened his eyes, meeting Gotham's evenly. "I...it is hard to breath," he gasped, proof that one of his lungs was indeed injured. Still, he no longer thrashed, his muscles relaxing to some degree...and some color returned to his flesh. Lying still, he awaited whatever treatment his comrades could offer with a calm, restful demeanor.

---- Elsewhere... ----

"The giant should live, at least for a few days," offered Scipio once Zeke had rejoined him and Torc. "But they'll have to move fast if they want him to survive."

Somewhere in the distance, the sound of singing could be heard echoing through the trees. Both woodsmen raised their heads and glanced around before they returned their attention to Torc. It was Zeke who spoke. "The One is with us. We need only wait to complete our mission, sir. Sir?" Zeke squinted as he inspected Torc closely. "Sir, are you okay?"

Torc Blackfoot · Post by **Torc Blackfoot** » Wed Dec 06, 2006 6:40 pm

Torc allowed his senses to disconnect from that pure sound of the rune. It had felt like everything had vibrated acrossâ€¦ him. Torc couldnâ€™t have explained it, the rune had felt like it was building from within and without. The ripples of existence, had for that pure flicker, sang the rune of warding. Somehow it just hadnâ€™t crossed into the tether. Then again the strength of a rune wasnâ€™t just dependent on the caster. Nay, a rune existed as the purest form of something. It made sense that it would build from within and without. It made sense that it wasnâ€™t just written but sung, felt, and smelled.

Torc was becoming a diviner, and till now he hadnâ€™t realized that it wasnâ€™t just mage attuned to the future and past, but the increased sensitivity to the present was surprising. Torc imagined that a true diviner was a mage that become one with time and space. The Oracle of the Gibbets was one such beingâ€¦ and did that mean Torc would become something close to the Oracle, a being that transcend the flow of sense and merely felt the world, moving like one with purpose with it. Was that why diviners choose a path? Torc had heard the whispers of the golden path, yet were had that name came from? It was like a dull ache or an itch that his feet need to move upon.

Zeke was talking to Torc. â€œHmmmm, yes your right, tracking their movement will not be hard now.â€ Slowly Torc was coming out of the aether. He hadnâ€™t believe that he had held onto it for so long. He had fought, while maintaining his focus, something he wouldnâ€™t have been able to do back in the mouth. He had almost died doing it, and as his mind softly reluctantly let go of the aether, Torcâ€™s muscles tighten and a wave of exhaustion came over him.

â€œI am fine Zeke. I was holding the young maiden down, while I fought the half-giant. I was trying to lock her down so that I could gather you men and we could follow her back. Guess hadnâ€™t planned on an enraged half-giant andâ€¦â€ Gotham, by the One why did he choose to betray us? He had everything! The Holy Father had chosen him, and now he threw it away, for these heathens. Torc understood the need to be kind to them, but to betray your people was beyond him. If Gotham had wanted the war to be kinder to the panlings then he should have stayed with the Holy Father. It would allow him more control over their destinies then where he is at the flicker.

â€œI am fine Zeke, we wait for them to go for help or tail the group back to their camp. Either way we win, do you mind if I sit for a bit?â€ Torc looked for a moment for a tree stump or a rock he just needed to sitâ€¦ and think.

Torcâ€™s vision upon coming to this isle was one of white taking over green. Torc looked about him and felt the green of the forest. Yet the white order wasnâ€™t bad either, both sought balance and peace. The forest, with her infinite wisdom brought danger and trials, but she brought life and harmony. The white order brought balance but destroyed the trials that tested men. Please, Dominicus, show me a way to unite the two, that is true good, order shouldnâ€™t destroy life, yet life shouldnâ€™t need protection all the time. There must be a way to blend the two, show me the way to blend the green and white together for your strength. His hand ticked for a flicker to go to the book that the Oracle had given him. Could the answer lie in the book, he hadnâ€™t one moment to read.

How can one man choose between life and order? Torc knew the answer for himself, for in the end when he had been stripped of everything facing his deathblow, he saw himself and he wanted both. He wanted the green and he wanted the white. He felt like he belonged to both, felt that both had spawned him, felt that both controlled him, and felt that both loved him. Torc had to find a way to save the woods, while the war raged. He had to find a way to blend the Panlings into the Oneists. It was crazy to want a blending, yet it was an awaken desire. Torc touched the bark of a nearby tree and felt the life within. It had struggled to grow, and it would die, but in the end it floated with the world gracing the tether with itâ€™s understanding of life and its struggles. No wonder, Torc had chosen a white willow for his symbol.

Torc understood Gotham better now, but Gotham didnâ€™t understand that he wasnâ€™t just choosing life and balance, but he was turning his back on order. Torc knew that order needed to be there just as much as life. The world was a plate that was balanced on a needle. If it wasnâ€™t balanced then it would tumbleâ€¦ Was the kingdom crumbling because the Oneist sought too much order? Was that why there were tensions between the Merchant Lords and the Land Lords? Was that why hate in the church and division amongst the pleasantry? Was order for one man the same as another? The church had been built on the idea of order and goodness, but it was seeking order over all else. A blending of both cultures might just be what the church needs. The order of Domicius was seeking something, but in a way by conquering it, it would never take it in like a breath of flesh airâ€¦ Was this walking the golden path? Seeking to repair the damage that men who sought unbalance, for the Oneist werenâ€™t evil, and there purpose here wasnâ€™t evil, for they sought balance. They sought what the Panlings hadâ€¦ freedom and the goodness in choosing freedom. Yet the Panlings had no order, there emotions were whirlwinds, tempests that brought too much chaos with it. The half-giant sought my death beyond anything elseâ€¦ even his own life, and that was the chaos that needed to be cured. A blending needed to occur, but how?

The questions went around in Torcâ€™s head as he waited for the panlings to lead him to their camp.

Post by **Grant** » Fri Dec 08, 2006 10:33 pm

(OOC: Gotham, Sevti...I have spun you off on your own here. Please continue in that thread. Good luck!)

Nodding once, the woodsman backed away from the magus, uncertain what he should say or do. Something about that half-giant had gotten to the young man...maybe terror, desperation, or even recognition. And then there was the turncoat, another young man that seemed reasonable enough...save that he spent his time with blood-thirsty savages that would happily burn the world just to see the smoke rising. Fucking Panlings, thought Zeke as he exchanged a glance with Scipio. Pointing one finger at the youth and then raising it skyward, he indicated that Scipio would indeed take the first watch...and that watch was beginning now.

"Well hold here, sir," murmured Zeke, confirming the magus' wishes. "No fires, though," he added, though none of the gentlemen really needed to hear that. The forest was, in every way, hostile...and with only the three of them, it was best to avoid drawing any attention to themselves whatsoever. For a time, Torc could enjoy some passive silence to brood over his thoughts. The woodsmen would keep watch...and a very competent watch at that...and so nothing would disturb him.

...nothing save for the haunting, sad song that carried through the woods like a cooling breeze, little more than an echo to his ears...

Torc Blackfoot · Post by **Torc Blackfoot** » Sun Dec 10, 2006 7:25 am

OOC: I am going to assume that the song is physical in nature not magicalâ€¦ like some kind of weird heighten astral sense.

Torc continued deep in his thoughts, it had been the first time someone had really wanted to kill him. He had faced animals, racial hatred, and even magickal flying balls of death, but some how this was different. Seeing that almost final blow was frightening, for Torc wanted to live. He wanted children and respect, he wanted to do good.

Torc experience had shown him something that frightened him to the core. He saw his ugly side. The side that wanted vengeance on all those priests that would do harm to pagan children. He wanted despair over love. He wanted acceptance more then he wanted respect. Torc felt ugly, small, and powerless for a flicker.

Slowly Torc closed his eyes and took deep and sound breathes. Softly he let his mind wander away from his problems, fears, and himself. He renewed his commitment to his beliefs. Torc was a Oneist, a good man, and a careful mage. Those beliefs were solid, for Torc knew that the Oneist church would have to change in order to represent good and order, instead of order over good. Torc knew that even though he was a half breed, that was an excuse, Torc had to hold himself up to the rules of a good man. And Torc knew that he was a careful mage, for a war mage with his practiced weaves might have been able to destroy the half-giant with one single bolt of fire, but it was the thinking mage that could cast the great weaves of legend.

With his last deep breath Torc blocked out the song and focused on one thought, the Golden Path. Opening his eyes Torc checked the time of day, and wondered if he had enough light to read for a few burns. He wanted to finally open the book given to him from the Oracle. It was frightening in a way, for he wondered wheither there would be some note scribed to him from the Oracle.

Of course, the forest could have been to dense for Torc to even make out a word, and since he hadnâ€™t really paid attention to his surroundings till now. Torc also knew that he could always eat some of his dry rations and try to take a nap before his turn at watch.

Post by **Grant** » Tue Jan 02, 2007 11:07 am

Samheen 28th, MT

Settling down for a time, Torc found some sleep while the woodsmen stood guard. He was surprised to find the morningtide sunlight around him once again when he awoke, and only one of the woodsmen still with him. "The wounded giant has gone with two of the Panlings Southeast...towards Gatetown," he reported, confirming what had to happen. "I've sent Scipio to Aveas to give his report. That should leave us free to continue pursuit, though I've run into a problem. One of the Panlings has split away, marching Northeast...away from Gatetown. It could be a diversion, or an ambush...or he might have deserted."

The forest around Torc was far from silent, filled as it was with the sounds of an wildlife. The sun had not yet fully risen, proof enough that the fleeing Panlings would be tired and worn as well as wounded. "We could head back, sir...or we could follow the southern trail to Gatetown. Or we could follow the lone Panling north. I don't know which one departed the main group, but one of them did.