Big Damn Heroes (Bones, Marcus)

by **Ssafirsotibones** on July 6th, 2012, 6:22 pm

Soon enough, the battle sank into chaos, many of the original combatants quitting, including the one Bones had wounded with a slash. He ran off, holding a hand over his arm, which was dripping blood. Others were scared off by Bones ferocity, and others simply by the entrance of a mage. Though really, Bones noticed, he did not seem to do that much damage, for all his words.

Even Tock was putting in her weapons, as they were. Though they were certainly a bit odd, and unorthodox. But fighting was fighting, and Bones quickly was sinking into the pain and blood of it all. Slowly losing himself, sinking into its depth... Letting his inner snake brain free to run.

As two enemies of the ones remaining came right at him, he swung his blade, keeping them back. He barely noticed, as Tock warned him of another coming at him, so busy with the first two was he. But he did notice the lancing pain, as a blade sank into him.

Apparently the first two had just been distracting, while the third came up and sank a dagger into him. Luckily for Bones he had turned as the man attacked, aiming for his side. But even with it missing, still the blade had been stuck hilt deep into his thigh. It was at an angle, and had not hit any bone. Instead, the tip of the dagger had passed through the meat, and was coming out of the other side, poking out. But petch it hurt, as it dripped a steady flow of blood from both ends.

A inhuman anger came over Bones face, and he let out a bloodcurdling scream, before he turned on the man who had stabbed him, who was now unarmed, and lopped off one of his hands with a clean swipe of his gladius. Right through the wrist...

Bones leaned forward, most of his weight now on his right uninjured side, and grabbed the man with both hands, and lifted him right off his feet. He then turned and tossed him through the air, right into the other two men that had been attacking him with swords, the three men, including the man bleeding profusely from a stump, ending up in a tangled bloody heap, several getting cut by the remaining men's swords. All of them being spattered by the injured man.

By know Bones was not thinking exactly clearly, the pain biting into him, the dagger blade shifting a bit, every time he moved. He picked back up his gladius, which he had not even noticed he had dropped, and advanced on another man, limping, throwing a series of vicious slashes at him, and pushing him back. He let out another scream, right into the mans face, before punching him right in the ear with his fist.

by **Marcus Dymez** on July 6th, 2012, 7:44 pm

OOCI keep trying to keep this short, but it never seems to work :\ At the very least, I try to keep my part from pushing too much on the others, so let me know if I'm over-imposing. ^^"

Marcus was in no mood for killing tonight.

The young scholar was not eager to bring back the dark memories he held repressed in his mind, but his display had not scared off enough to plead for a truce. Almost a dozen men remained, and it was obvious they were not keen on setting down their weapons and having a round of dice. No, there was work to be done, and if there was one lesson Marcus kept dear to him, it was that it's better to do a job than to live in fear of doing it. Marcus steadily made his way towards the two men facing him, his mind still vibrating with the strain of his reimancy. The thugs were obviously hesitant, but it was not a hesitation borne of fear, but one of experience. They waited for an opening, but Marcus was not about to let the pair take advantage of him. Not while one of his friends and a random stranger were in danger, no sir.

Marcus rose his sword above his head in a struggling effort, before he let out a massive roar of a war-cry. The two warriors had made a swift attempt to close the distance when the scholar had weakly raised his weapon. In reality however, Marcus was simply tired of dealing with all of these bloody flaming blades. A great concentration of material and ethereal will echoed through his mind as Marcus' blade came to set at his side, aimed forward like a lance. The warriors growl continued as he took two furious steps forward, pressing his weapon ahead of him as if he was stabbing a ghost. Two ghosts in this case.

In case of overloading one's mind with too many points to concentrate on, a reimancer always could focus himself by pushing the action in the material world. It was always easier than keeping it all in one's head, and Marcus could use some ease. The two flaming blades shot forward with the speed of arrows, as they ignited in earnest. Marcus had honestly almost forgotten to transmute the res in all of the haste, but he caught it as his mind let loose his mental bow. There was no turning back now, and Marcus knew it. His face was now as sleek and emotionless as a wall of masoned stone, and with his reimancy no longer draining the majority of attention, it was time to move. The darkness was his friend in this case.

The piercing cry of Tock's companion was the trigger Marcus was waiting for as he sprinted forward, longsword to his side. He gauged his opponents, as well as he could in the dim light of the fire. Only this time, the lighting was slightly different; the source had changed. One of the men had not been as prepared as he had thought, and had caught the flaming blade straight in his gut. His body was wreathed in ethereal fire as he panicked, apparently seeking refuge in a nearby shore that did not exist. Some people weren't as resourceful as they should be.

The second man however managed quite some feat, and had only received a grazing blow; his arm had caught fire but the armor was thick, and he seemed to have his priorities in order. He came at him with a rough sword, but with a strong arm behind it. Marcus brought his own blade up just in time to parry it off to the side, but his opponent was quick to recover. The fire was radiating heat, and Marcus could see the pain creeping into the man's face. In a nobler mindset, Marcus might have wondered what would drive a man to such lengths, and perhaps he would've noticed the Sunberthan qualities that dotted this thug like flies. Maybe he might have pieced all of this together, but he did not. Marcus had work to do, and by the Gods, he was going to do it.

A blade reflected the orange flames as it came towards Marcus' right side. A longsword came up to meet it, parrying the shorter weapon harmlessly, with the pommel facing his opponent. Marcus did not hesitate a moment as he smashed the man's face in with the metal weight of his sword. Once. Twice. A third time, and the man fell to his knees. It was a heavy sword, and Marcus figured the man would not be waking from this night. It was a miracle that had actually worked, but he imagined having a campfire on your arm would be slightly distracting. Blood dripped off of Marcus' grip, but there was no time to waste. A job needed doing, and all that.

Now that he was able to focus on the real battle at hand, Marcus advanced towards the large group of steel and blood. He made out Tock holding back, her strange babies with her, and he could see a glint of metal on her friend's character, in a place it shouldn't have been. The fire flanking Tock, as well as this devilish fighter she had brought with him, seemed to keep the thugs attention as Marcus strode up, and he used this to his advantage. A pommel-strike to the back of the head sent one man straight to the ground, unconscious. Another turned just in time to see a blade slash straight into his stomach, but Marcus was growing tired with the effort. His mind was used to such weapons, and knew the good grace of endurance, but his arms were not so accustomed to wielding such a blade, and Marcus once again split his mind as he prepared for another burst of reimancy.

Marcus was quite aware of how close he was to his limit, but there was still work to be done. Marcus let slip the grip of his sword, as the man clutched at his gut, unbelieving of the massive blade cut inches deep into him. He turned to face a third villain, already charging at him with an axe above his head, and knew it was do or die. Marcus focused with two partitions of his will as he brought a packed of djed towards his mouth, and began to press a gas of res between his lips. About an inch away from his mouth, the res ignited, pressing with the power of the wind upon the thug's face. This was one of the oldest tricks in the book, but also one easily to misjudge; breathing fire. Marcus clutched as his head as he managed to step aside, not so eager to catch a misplaced axe to his face. He looked up through hazy eyes, and as his vision cleared from the exertion, he saw his opponent doing the same, although for a different reason. He fell to his knees as he slapped his own face, trying to extinguish the flames but only ingraining them further.

Leather gloves might have been a sound investment.

His breath was heavy in his throat as he turned to the other half of the battle, his flaming swords wavering uncomfortably in the air around the cautious woman. He then looked back over the men he had just fought. Five. One of which he was able to save, but that still left four lives that would not survive the night. But the job was not done, the job was never done. And with that thought in mind, Marcus began to slowly walk towards the remaining few thugs, in no real hurry.

He had taken four lives too many this night.

by **Minerva Agatha Zipporah** on July 6th, 2012, 9:24 pm

OOCNo worries, Marcus! Part of the fun of a big battle like this is plenty of highly descriptive action and excitement. That leads to long, detailed posts. That's also why I made sure we had PLENTY of enemies to go around!

Between them, the two more skilled combatants had taken down almost half a dozen thugs each, to Tock's one. She didn't care, though. She didn't fight for honor, or to compete and see who was the greater warrior. Right now she just didn't want to get herself killed. So she mostly stayed back, watching the flaming blades that drove most of the foes away from her position, the others too preoccupied dealing with Bones to worry about one little girl.

Little did they know how dangerous she could be when backed into a corner.

As the majority of the enemies fell, one man raced for the nearby wagon, thinking to use it to make his escape. He jumped into the driver's seat, trying to urge the horses into motion to carry him away from the scene. Not eager to let him get away with what he had done, Tock pointed to the rear wagon wheel and shouted, "Choppy, chop!"

The Animated axe waddled forward on his stork-like metal legs, and drew his axe back, the metal springs on the axle that formed his waist tightening to add force to the blow. The axe sprung forward, driven by the combination of the Automaton's magical motion and the added power of mechanical torque. Several rapid swings smashed the wagon wheel to bits before the villain could escape. "Stop!" she shouted when it was done. "Good boy! Back... back... stay!" The axe backed away, holding in place where she directed him, waiting for another command, and uncaring of whether it was told to chop wood or flesh.

It almost seemed everything was over, with the man on the wagon jumping down and trying to flee on foot. Then suddenly everything was happening at once. The wagon driver stopped running, spotting something in the shadows. It was one of the foolishly curious students, who had hidden rather than running away. Tock recognized the girl, a teen named Sarah, who was studying medicine. She often helped out in the infirmary, and Tock had spoken to her there many times. Perhaps she had stayed behind in the hopes of providing medical attention to the wounded.

Foolish, brave girl.

The wagon driver grabbed Sarah, holding a blade to her throat. "Stay back!" he screamed.

Meanwhile, one of the last men standing grabbed a bale of hay from the broken wagon, and thrust it at one of the flaming swords to set it ablaze. He then threw it at the stacked wood, and started to flee. Tock peered through the darkness, and while the man's face was covered, she saw his exposed ear, or rather what was left of it. She still remembered the taste of blood when she'd bitten it off.

Corwin.

There was no time to handle everything at once. She turned and ran after him, shouting to her companions, "Bones, save the girl!" She knew the chivalrous man was the best qualified for such a task. She just hoped he could manage not to get her killed. "Marcus, put out the fires!" She didn't know the first thing about fire magic, but it seemed logical to her that if the reimancer could control flames, he could douse them as well. She could only hope so, since he might be the only one that could stop the library from being set ablaze.

As for her, she intercepted Corwin's path and slashed her dagger at him, taking a slice out of his arm. He took a backhanded swing at her with his sword, and it sliced across her abdomen. She staggered, bleeding from the shallow but still grievous cut, but she didn't plan on letting him get away.

Hero or not, she still had a murder to commit this night.

by **Ssafirsotibones** on July 7th, 2012, 2:54 pm

Bones was hitting his battle frenzy, slashing around, his blade connecting with bone, sinew, and other blades. He had felled another two men, and the others seemed to be giving him a wide berth, after seeing one man catch his blade in his gut, and another catching it right above his collarbone, and nearly being decapitated.

He only half registered Tocks words, it took him a moment to wrest back his mind from the depth it had fallen into, and to process what she said. Finally, he began to move in the direction of the man holding a hostage.

The man holding her had been slowly edging away pulling the girl, when he saw Bones coming close. "Back off or I kill her!"

Bones just smiled, wiping the blood off of his blade, onto one of the few clean spots on his pants, and then sheathing it. But he did not stop coming at the man. He stared the man down, surely a frightening sight, the pain making an inhuman hunger come to his face... He so wanted to eat... Along with that, most of him was spattered in blood, mostly not his own, and he had a dagger sticking out of his leg.

"If you kill her, I ssswear you will pay. I will hunt you down and gut you, and let you watch asss your intessstinesss ssspill out. I will filet you from head to toe, and dine on your flesssh, while you ssscream in agony."

Bones just kept on coming, a look of confusion and fear coming over the mans face, not sure how to react to the man coming at him.

"Now drop sse blade, and face me like a man, and I promissse not to eat you, or to hunt down your family and do sse sssame to ssem."

Whether or not Bones intimidation had worked, the man holding a hostage had come to the conclusion that with this man, a hostage had no effect. He seemed like he would go right through the woman, just to get to him.

Only partially listening to Bones, he let go of the woman, and pushed her aside, coming at Bones, slashing down at him with his dagger, trying to slice into Bones throat.

Bones brought up one hand, and caught the mans wrist, twisting and squeezing. Soon enough his hand popped open, and the blade fell to the ground. Bones reared back his other hand, and punched him twice in the face, one smashing into his eye, the other breaking his nose. Then the man fell, not dead, but knocked out pretty good.

Bones moved his hungry eyes, looking at the student... At her warm flesh... But shook his head, and pushed down the urge to eat her...

"Do you have anyssing to help wiss ssisss?"

Bones asked the girl, gesturing to the dagger in his leg, which was still bleeding. But then things got fuzzy, and the world tilted, and Bones blacked out from the blood loss, and fell to the ground, right in front of her.

by **Marcus Dymez** on July 7th, 2012, 9:36 pm

OOCClassy Way to finish a post Bones.

I love it.

There was always work to be done.

Marcus stood with a slow pant to his breath, his arms now stiffening from their earlier exertion. His sword was obviously not going to be getting any lighter, and so he slipped it back into it's sheath under his robe. One less burden for to worry about, in a sense. But things around here were far from over, and he knew things were only going to get rougher from here on out. Marcus had perhaps been a bit over-exaggerated with his display, but then again it had intended to be. He had hoped to get away without a fight, but as he now glanced over the trimmed field around him, it was apparent how that plan had gone.

A muffled voice reached Marcus' ears as his mind came back to him, escaping the stony prison he had erected around it. His eyes spent moments between each of the men, as his mind passively gazed over the results of his efforts. Dead men, with the look of drying blood and the smell of roasting flesh hanging viciously in the air. He felt no grief, no remorse, not even a semblance regret. Marcus thanked the gods he didn't feel any satisfaction, but deep down, he was happy about how things had ended up. And this thought above all filled him with dread.

At least he was still alive.

As his mind refocused on the world around him, Marcus concentrated and set to work, one last time. Quite happy to have a task that didn't involve killing more people, the young wizard quickly ran through all of the means to douse these flames. The roaring flames alongside the wall were growing with each moment, and there was no time to waste. Swiftly, Marcus let his eyes strain to look out among the field to find anything that may be of aid. Producing any more res could put him straight into over-giving territory, and he had heard stories of men who only wanted to cast more and more, until their bodies were dried husks of flesh and stone. No, he would make do with what he had, and soon the answer showed itself to him quite brightly.

It was what was right in front of him.

Caught up in the close-quarters fight, Marcus had forgotten about the pair of swords he had set across the field from him, held up only by the pure chance of Marcus' division of attention. A lot of good they had done, guarding Tock without a motion, and helping to light the blaze he was now fighting. A lesson to be had, for sure, but Marcus had no time for that. No time for anything but the job at hand. Now aware of the state of his mind, Marcus detached himself from the Split Stone, and concentrated on the blades hovering a few feet away from him. His head already throbbed from the exertion, but at the very least he was not expending any more djed.

After all, Marcus could handle fainting better than he could runaway magic.

The two blades of flame steadied once more in their hovering, before coming together in blob of licking fires. In Marcus' mind, all he envisioned was the small orb of res hanging at the center, holding the fire around it's surface by sheer will and attraction. Marcus carefully strode closer towards the more dangerous blaze, keeping his mind on the blob of fire-laden res that trailed his motions. Once he was close enough to manage the concentration, he fell to his knees and grit his teeth with the effort he knew was about to leave him. There's always a job to do, and Marcus knows one of them is going to suck.

The manipulated orb hovered beside the roaring flames, already drawing small spouts of orange into it's sphere of control. But it was not enough; it rarely was, with Marcus' luck. The wizard pushed the power further and further, his mind's eye blurring with the strain as more and more of the flames left the charred pile of logs. Beads of sweat dripped down Marcus' forehead as he knelt, watching the events unfold with devil's eyes, a gleaming emerald-green. Eyes that would kill in order to achieve a goal, and watch as a man laid dying. Marcus hated those eyes, and wished things were simpler; that life was just a daily occurrence filled with the mundane. A small grin washed across the man's face as the thought crossed his mind, giving him the push he needed to struggle on.

What a joke.

Steadily enough, the flames were moved over. Marcus would've cheered and celebrated, but if anything he should be stuttering in shame. He had just made a bigger ball of fire. The flames had not seemed much, but as Marcus glanced over to the pile of wood, a tricky task at a time like this, he saw stone-cold logs, blackened but without a single ember. He had pulled every piece of heat from the brigand's flames, and was left with a roaring orb of fire the height of a man. It held itself wavering in the air, the small amount of res barely maintaining its grip on the fire. Marcus took a shuffling step backwards in hesitation, when a crisping sound gave him an idea. An idea that was dangerous enough to pull him over the edge, but maintained a small glimmer of hope. It was a chance he would have to take.

Marcus crawled over to one of the thugs nearby, thankfully not noticing the bloody stump of where the man's hand used to be. He picked up the man's dropped dagger, and grit his teeth as a small slice appeared on the flat of his thumb. Sacrifices, and all that. He made haste as he felt the orb slowly falling to the earth as his focus was shifted, but it did not take long. A trio of flower petals. Lines drawing through the middle of each, intersecting in the center. Concentric rings reaching out from the design, three in all. And all of this, written in Marcus' own blood, as he stood and he focused on the task at hand. Marcus couldn't help but chuckle at the pun as the thought crossed his mind, his bloody, glyph-covered palm pressed out towards the unstable ball of flame. Then things went just as he had hoped; simple.

A bellowing cry as a vicious spear of res left the wizards palm.

An explosion of steam as water erupted from the piercing spear and the inner core of the flames.

Small flickers of licking fire making their way to the ground as a mist of water falls atop them.

Darkness, and the sound of a body hitting the ground; one more to add to the count it would seem.

Marcus was quite comfortable on the ground. The ground demanded no action of him, and gave none in return. It was solid, and sturdy, and slow to act. And most of all, the ground was the best place to be right now, as Marcus felt the echoing reverberations in his head. Slowly he began to prod and test his body, examining where he stood in the scheme of things. Remarkably well as it turned out, his leg catching a small cut, perhaps from the blazed bandit's dropped axe from earlier? It was nothing of real consequence, and a bug-bite compared to the throbbing in his mind. Still, he considered himself pretty well off; he didn't feel the desire to start shooting fireballs in every direction, and he had only the slightest taste of metal in his mouth, a good sign given the night's events. All in all, Job well done.

And as Marcus warily made his way to his feet, he glanced out onto the dark field besides the Library and felt a disheartening feeling run down his spine. He knew immediately what it was, and knew he deserved it. He knew it was his burden to bear, despite the repression he'd deal with later. He knew a job was a job, and it was better to do a job than to live in fear of doing it, right? Still, it didn't make it any easier, yet his eyes could not stop.

He stared out into the grass, and felt the dead stare back.

by **Minerva Agatha Zipporah** on July 8th, 2012, 2:07 am

Marcus and Bones had both killed tonight. Killed in the heat of battle. They had had no real choice, considering the thugs attacked first with lethal force. It had been kill or be killed. So they had both taken the necessary lives.

Tock hadn't. She wasn't a warrior. She had knocked one man out, disarmed another, and hacked up the wagon to prevent escape. She had directed people to safety, been a leader of sorts, but she hadn't killed.

And the death she wanted to cause had nothing to do with honor or duty. It wasn't because it was her job, or because it was a thing that had to be done. It wasn't to protect people, to save the knowledge in the library, or to save her own life.

She wanted to kill Corwin because she hated him. She hated everything he stood for, every aspect of her past that he represented. She hated that he knew her real name, and she hated the memory of his body lewdly pressed against hers when he'd pinned her against a wall in a Sunberthan alley and tried to take something precious from her. She hated him to her core, and she wanted to end him.

She limped after him, running as fast as she could, clutching at the bleeding wound across her gut (couldn't she go ONE week in this city without suffering some sort of injury?), determined to take a life. Corwin wasn't even a threat to anyone anymore, but that didn't matter. She still wanted blood.

Corwin ran through the trees behind the University, stopping once he reached a small clearing. Seeing Minerva was alone, he turned to face her, a wicked grin on his face as he raised his sword. But no, this wasn't what she wanted. No fair duels or battles to the death would satisfy the urge within her. She shot Grippy forward, clamping the metal claw around the hilt of Corwin's sword, and yanked it from his grip. Corwin staggered back, disarmed and defenseless. Yes, this was what she wanted him to feel. Helpless, the way she had felt. Vulnerable and alone, knowing there was no one here to save him.

She limped forward, holstering Grippy so she could keep one hand on her dagger, the other holding her blood-soaked shirt against her wound. He raised his fists and came at her, and she slashed her dagger at him, swiping it clumsily through the air. He tried to knock her wrist back with his hand, and she was too unskilled with the blade to get a clean hit. This wasn't what she wanted. He was fighting back, he wasn't helpless. He knocked her hand back again, with skill earned in Sunberthan street brawls, and then connected a fist with her cheek.

She staggered, then kneed him in the groin.

"Owwww!" Tock shouted, stumbling back. Corwin tapped his knuckles against his crotch, making a metallic ping. He had learned his lesson from last time, and gotten himself a metal codpiece.

She stumbled and fell, and Corwin pounced on her. She stabbed her dagger for his face, and he grabbed her wrist. She swung her other fist at him, fingers covered in blood, and he grabbed her fist in his just short of his face.

But Tock had more than two hands. Handy, still strapped to her wrist from earlier, jabbed his wooden fingers into Corwin's eyes.

The thug screamed in pain, falling back. Tock cackled and pounced on him, pinning him to the ground. He managed still to knock her dagger from her hand, so she reached behind her into the top of her pack and pulled out Boxy.

She told Handy, "Wrist!" and he grabbed and pinned Corwin's wrist, while Tock grabbed the other in her free hand and shoved it down. She shifted her weight to slam her knee onto that hand, and groped for her dagger on the ground. She told Boxy, "Open!" and his lid snapped open, the little mechanical silver box just awaiting something to hold.

Tock grinned, and shoved her blade into Corwin's eye. He screamed as the blade slid between eyeball and socket and she started prying it out. He writhed, but she had her full body weight on him, and she wanted a souvenir. She shoved Boxy against the loosened eye and told him, "That eyeball is mine!!!"

Boxy was programmed to protect anything his owner declared as 'hers.' The thin, razor sharp wire inside his belly flung out, wrapping around the eyeball that was hanging from its socket. Screams of pure horror filled the night as the box yanked and pulled, severing the eye the rest of the way from the socket and pulling it inside. The lid snapped shut as Tock pulled Boxy back, his screws and clasps tightening and closing to seal away his new prize. The last screw to twist into place creaked a bit, like a little metallic burp.

Corwin found another burst of adrenaline and shoved her off him, and he started to flee. Tock struggled to try to get back to her feet, desperate to finish the job, but she was getting dizzy from blood loss. Try as she might, she couldn't get up in time before the one-eared, and now one-eyed thug fled into the night.

By morning Corwin was stowed away on the first ship out of Zeltiva he could find, and Tock, for now, missed her chance to take his life.

In the clearing, Tock clutched at her wound, breathing heavily and fearing for her fate. She stumbled back towards the University, stopping for a moment halfway there when she found a puddle of rainwater. She knelt and drank, desperate to cool her burning throat. She washed her and Corwin's blood from her hands, unable to tell which was which, and rinsed Boxy off before tucking him away. He had quite a prize now. With her baby cleaned off and safe, Tock slowly pulled off her shirt and balled it up, leaving her in only an undershirt as she pressed the bundled cloth against her gash. She rested on her knees until she found the strength to stand, and stumbled back to the site of the battle, drained and feeling defeated.

by **Ssafirsotibones** on July 9th, 2012, 9:57 pm

Bones blinked his eyes a few times, a bit groggy and confused... Recalling the battle, he jerked up, and felt a consoling hand on his arm, as a girl shushed him and told him to lie back...

The last thing he recalled... He had been fighting... Blood... Anger... Hitting... Being stabbed... It was all an odd whirl of thoughts and memories, he would need time to untangle...

He looked down to see his leg, on his thigh, were he had been stabbed, which was covered by cloth. The girl smiled, dabbing something on his forehead, which stung.

"Don't worry, I took care of it. I took out the dagger carefully from your leg, cleaned it out, and bandaged it up good and tight. That was the biggest problem, you were bleeding like a stuck pig there. You also got a few cuts and gashes on your arms, I guess in all the fighting. You probably didn't even notice those, if you received them after getting stabbed."

The girl smiled at Bones, and he just lay there, a bit confused. He gave a muffled thanks, and the girl just smiled at him.

"It was the least I could do, after you saved me like that. I think your friends are okay, the ones you were fighting with. And it looks like they put out the flames."

Bones just stared at her, his eyelids heavy... He laid back, and rested, and fell asleep in a few chimes, telling her to wake him if there was trouble... And slept, this time a natural sleep, instead of a blood loss induced blackout.

by **Marcus Dymez** on July 9th, 2012, 11:31 pm

Despite his fatigue, Marcus had not had the opportunity to rest.

The young wizard knew quite well that things didn't simply "end," and as one of the only conscious and present participants, it fell to him to organize the recovery. Wearily, Marcus issued commands to the few courageous students that had strode forward to investigate, much like he had. He brought doctors over to separate those who were dead or simply dying. He had water brought to put out a small patch of grass that was benignly burning. He was about to issue orders to a new pack of capable-seeming men, and they seemed ready enough to follow. But as his mind clicked into place, and he saw the city guard for what they were, Marcus' entire air of command vanished; his shoulders slumped, accompanied by a heavy sigh of relief as he head lolled from side to side.

"Great. Now you guys can take over."

Marcus slowly made his way towards the small path that led to the dormitories, shrugging off demands for explanations and statements as if they were mere peddlers. He waved over his shoulder, telling them to ask the other students what happened, but with not-so-polite diction. At that moment, not even Maria herself could stop Marcus from getting into bed and passing out.

A final push, down on the home-stretch. Piece by piece Marcus shrugged off each piece of equipment he had brought with him, all on a whim. First came the clattering of his sword, rattling for a moment as it wobbled one way or another on the ground. Tomorrow he would clean it, the blood on the pommel already drying. Next came the fluttering of his cloak, his precious crimson heirloom that brought him comfort and a keen style. Tomorrow he would look it over carefully for scratching or holes, although he usually had uncanny luck when it came to the Crimson Dymez; one of the reason he favored it so. Then, one after another, came the careless sounds of clothes finding their way to the floor, thrown about at random. Tomorrow he would clean up, maybe.

But, in true dramatic fashion, the greatest and most magnificent sound was saved for last. Marcus found himself finally finished, as the sound of a man jumping into a bed pierced the silence of the room; a welcome sound indeed. Finally, there was nothing left to do, nothing but sleep. Not a single thought went to Tock or her strange friend, nor to the events of the night. Those were reflections for the next day, the next week. For now, Marcus was simply glad to be done.

It was better to do a job than live in fear of it.

by **Minerva Agatha Zipporah** on July 10th, 2012, 3:29 am

Tock stumbled up to the battlefield, looking things over. By the time she got there, the guards were there, and med students were attending to the wounded. All told, half a dozen men had died tonight, and just as many lay unconscious, beaten and bleeding on the ground. The rest had fled into the night, though they might still be arrested if they were identified by the survivors.

Tock slumped against a tree and sank down to the ground. She called her babies over to her, and Choppy and Naily came to her side. A student from the infirmary hurried over as well, checking on her wound.

"You need stitches," he told her. "Now." She just weakly nodded, and didn't resist as he bandaged the wound as best he could for now, then recruited another helper to carry her to the infirmary for proper attention.

Some time later, her babies sitting in the corner of her room at the infirmary, Tock told the whole story to the guards (minus the part about her planned and failed homicide). She had been stitched up (for what, the fifth time since coming to Zeltiva? She'd lost count). She was somewhat woozy from blood loss, and was quite irritated at the idea of being bedridden for awhile AND having to spend another however long riding her magic crutches again. When she'd first made them, almost a full season ago, she hadn't ever expected to get this much use out of them.

After reporting to the guards, they finally asked her, "Do you know what they wanted? And who led this rabble?"

"Corwin," she said. "Bloke what wit' only one ear... an' one eye." She wondered if she could make a trophy or something out of that prize. "'E ran off. Tried fer ta stop 'im, but 'e got me good," she gestured to the stitched and bandaged wound. "Dunno what where 'e went ta. But 'at bloke over 'ere, 'e's one o' 'is," she pointed across the room to one of the other bedridden patients, who she hoped she wouldn't be forced to room with for her entire stay here. She would much rather be moved to a private room. For now though, she was lumped into a group room with three other patients.

She recognized the man, despite his bandaged face from the beating Bones had given him, as one of the thugs who'd attacked her and Bones in the streets the week before. That meant he had already been part of Corwin's gang even before tonight's stunt. "Ask 'im," she said. "Gotsta knows the 'ole thing..."

The guards turned to question the man, but he protested innocence. "The crazy redhead, she attacked us!" he said. Tock sighed, not having the energy to get up and go over there to set him straight. So she just raised her fingers to beckon Choppy, and he took a few steps forward. The thug's eyes widened, and he tried to crawl back in his bed, his mouth moving frantically. Tock held her hand flat, freezing Choppy in place, and when the guards turned to look at her she was just lying there innocently.

"Corwin wanted ta burn down the library!" the thug shouted, grabbing one of the guards by his shirt collar. "'E were sick o' mad mages runnin' 'round like 'ey owned the streets... Thought if'n 'e burned all the books, 'e'd get rid o' the mages." Tock scowled at the man, glad she and her companions had managed to stop the men. Burning books on magic was just the sort of thing she would expect from a Sunberthan... another reason she renounced her heritage.

The guards collected all the information they could about where Corwin had been staying in the city, and the names of the other conspirators. Many of them were nothing more than teenagers who had been talked into doing something stupid, without thinking things through. Likely they hadn't expected anyone to get hurt. But this is what happened when when a dark hearted man manipulated the perceptions of the innocent.

But at least he hadn't gotten away completely free. He'd paid a price in flesh, and if Tock had anything to say about it, it wouldn't be the last piece she took from him.

by **Cascade** on July 18th, 2012, 4:57 pm

Adventurer's Loot

Marcus Dymez's Loot :

Minerva Agatha Zipporah's Loot :

Ssafirsotibones's Loot :

Great thread, guys. It was fast-paced and full of action... a very enjoyable read. Just don't ever forget to play to the skill levels that you have. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to PM me!