(Drunken Fish) The party of all parties (closed)

[Xavior Silhouette]

He didn’t get a reply from the man who was obviously far gone and disconnected from the world around him. His mind wandered into the possibility that whatever Mok had smoked had some how effected him earlier. As he stood with his bow drawn he snapped out of it, he didn’t want to be known as the horned murderer. He didn’t want to be known at all, just blend in with the locals and not call any attention to himself. “Smooth move ass,” he said to himself as the room seemed to literally erupt. It was as if fabric had been pulled taught until it finally ripped open like the man’s neck flesh. He looked around the room and lost track of where Mok had stumbled off to. He remembered seeing him stand and walk to the bar. Xavior was amazed that the beast could go from heavily sedated to barbarian as quick as he did. Quite a remarkable person to meet, but this wasn’t the time for reflection or a job well done wrap up. ------- “That man, the one with the horns,” a sailor near Xavior stood began to make his approach toward Xavior. “I can take on this scrawny freak, maybe his horns will be worth something on the market.” Dagger drawn the man was in front of the Eth just as he slid the bow back up his arm. “Hey freak,” the sailor yelled as he lunged the blade toward Xavior’s abdomen. The sailor missed as his stern green eyes looked up into Xavior’s own. Xavior’s lips moved but he couldn’t hear what he was saying. Regardless, the sailor brought the blade back and nicked Xavior’s favorite leather jacket, cutting through it and grazing his dark skin. He heard Xavior curse as the blood soon pooled in the valley of flesh. “I’m only getting started!” the sailor nearly growled as he kicked Xavior away. “I want to kill this man, drive my knife into his stomach and let him feel his life slowly drain.” The sailor growled and threw a punch at Xavior’s face. It made contact and made him stumble back further toward the bar. “Just as I thought. He is an easy kill,” the sailor thought to himself as he brought his blade toward Xavior once more. He could see Xavior’s eyes follow the blade poised for his abdomen. This time however, Xavior caught the sailor’s wrist. “Just give up,” the sailor barked, “Its the end of the line for you.” Both men stood locked in a deadly embrace, arms shaking and flexing. The sailors determined and crazed eyes looked up at Xavior’s face to see the struggle. Yet his lips still moved, the fact he couldn’t tell what he was saying drove him to push harder. The dagger blade slowly inched closer and closer to Xavior’s body. The silvery tip soon pressed against the thick leather, cutting through it with its deadly sharpness. The sailor could feel Xavior’s struggle begin to wane and with a burst of energy shoved the blade into his abdomen. He heard Xavior gasp and pant from the pain. Blood seemed to run from the edges of his mouth, and oddly his eyes. To make sure the strange man was completely dead he shifted the sharp blade to the left to cut up the guts within him. Slowly his eyes drifted up the Eth’s body and stopped at the eyes. Face filled with pain an odd smile began to draw across Xavior’s lips. It caught the sailor off guard for a moment. “Would you leave your gift of death in my,” Xaviror coughed, then finished, “Body?” “Sure dead man, so even your ghost can remember this moment,” the sailor responded as Xavior’s body fell backward and over the bar. The body landed with a dull thud as Xavior’s limbs settled onto the wooden floor. ----- Xavior looked around the room distracted by the amount of action within the tavern. His body turned as he looked at the door of the tavern. The news of murder must have traveled fast. It would seem that the hornets were flooding out of the nest and into the tavern to sting and maim all within. Just as a particularly shady person entered into the tavern, a growl to his side caught his attention. His eyes wide as a sailor, snake of a dagger drawn, ran toward him. He thought quick, as quick as a man could, and began to turn his body away from the silvery blade. But it was to late as it cut through his brown jacket, he loved this jacket, and sliced into his skin. He could feel the edge, burning like heart break, as it cut him not to deeply but enough to make his adrenalin sky rocket. The pain was greater then usual, which made Xavior wonder why. His skin seemed to be overly sensitive now as he backed away from the blade wielding man. Thinking on his toes he began to focus on chanting, or more implanting and suggesting a story of the mind in the man. “You want to kill the man you see. You want to drive your blade into his abdomen. Ooof, rahhh.” Xaviors voice growled as he was kicked backward and hit the back of the bar. He breathed hard as a sting began to grow in his mouth. But in the heat of the moment he continued, “You will drive your blade into my stomach,” he coughed, “twist in my gut and kill me slowly--” his dialogue was cut short as the man threw his fist at Xavior’s face. He could taste the blood, like iron, as it coats his tongue. His nose snapped as the cartilage broke. To full of adrenalin the pain was like a quick pierce that soon was washed away. He stumbled over to a lower portion of the bar as his hands sliced themselves on the broken ceramic of plates. As the sailor drew his hand back again to drive the instrument of death into his body, Xavior was quick to grab the wrist of the lethal man’s hand. His muscles flexed, though quite chiseled the lack of fat deceived his strength. Slowly he began to remove a hand to grip the wood behind him. His nails dug into the wood and even bent away from the cuticle. But that soon ended as his arm buckled and he was pinned to the wood by the force of the sailor. “That’s right, fight to kill me, this freak has some strength.” Xavior brought his hand up to the front of his body. He began to focus and then focus even harder. His arms began to give and carefully guided the blade down toward his abdomen. A knowing smile crossed the sailor’s face as he flexed his muscles to drive the blade completely forward. Xavior’s free hand was at the tip of the blade and soon the one that stayed the blade let go. At that instant, the very instant the blade flew forward and pierced his palm through and through he caused the man to see a flash. The sailors eyes looked down at his handiwork as the red of blood began to drip from the tip of tainted silver. The sailor looked back up at Xaviors face and for a moment Xavior wondered if he had been successful in his deception. The pain was immense, rolling over his entire body but localized at his hand. He flinched and gave a pathetic whimper when the sailor twisted the blade. Xaviors open mouth soon closed slowly into a small smile. “Would you leave your gift of death in my,” Xaviror coughed, then finished, “Body?” Xavior was glad to hear the sailor agree as he felt a sudden rush of tiredness overcome his body. He fell backward over the bar as he fainted. Before he fell he seemed to have a flash of a person shrouded in white light. Silhouetted, he mouthed the words, “Thank you Leth.” Whatever the image was, be it a past life memory or just a hallucination brought on by his own hypnosis he wouldn’t know as his mind and body left the tavern and into a pool of nothing. It was dark as Xavior seemed to stand alone in a cavernous area. A flame twinkled from an iron lamp in front of him. The metal twisted into an elegant stand that held a bowl of oil ignited. It illuminated his body, “What is this place? I’ve never been here before.” “Xavior what a fool you are. You held yourself higher then the supposed beasts. Yet you so quickly shed the blood of man without reason, monster.” A voice seemed to come from the darkness that surrounded him. “Who are you, reveal yourself!” Xavior shouted scared of the unknown, the beast that surrounds him. “I’m insulted,” the voice sounded closer this time, coarse and beastly, “How could you not know your own voice?” Xavior was confused for a moment before it was burned like a moth to a flame. A dark mass of stepped into the light that pooled in a shifting circle. The light glistened on the fur that covered the Zith’s body, “You are Shadow?” “That is correct, I’m an animal. A beast of the night cursed to be exposed by Syna’s hands. You are like me, like those sailors.” Shadow continued into the pool more of his body exposed to Xavior. “No, I am nothing like those monsters!” Xavior took a a step away from Shadow and neared the edge of the pool of light, “You might be my monster, but you will never be shown to be one.” A deep grumbling voice echoed in the room, “You can’t deny what you are, we are one in the same. You shot the arrow and killed the innocent sailor just as the sailors have done to me. You are nothing but a shadow of your hatred.” Shadow responded as his hands moved to grip the brass bowl of flame from beneath. Shadow cringed and so did Xavior’s as his flesh seemed singed by an invisible heat. “What are you doing?” Xavior questioned as the zith brought the bowl over his body, “Don’t do that! It burns!” Xavior sounded panicked as he stepped farther away from pool of light closer to the shadow’s edge. “I am not doing this, you brought this on both of us. Mind your step now Xavior dear.” Shadow explained before he tipped the flaming bowl over. The boiling oil singed Shadow’s skin as the fur seemed to curl and burn. Xavior could feel the intense pain flow over his body as Shadow dumped the shower of flame over his body. Flesh crackled away from the man’s body consumed in flames. Shadow took a step forward as Xavior wailed in pain. His skin was a flame, yet no physical signs could be observed. His foot reached the edge of the shadow and seemed to be knocked off balance. He began to fall backward, consumed by the all consuming, void in his mind. His body bowed against the wooden floor of the tavern as his mouth opened and screamed in pain. His skin seemed to be scorched with a bad sunburn. His entire body radiated pain from every contact point. He could feel liquid as it flowed from his eyes, he assumed it was tears, though one would question the normality of tears made of blood. His eyes burned as his vision was blurred, eyes blood shot. His ears rang loudly with noise and clatter, a truly chaotic scene to awaken to. He brought his hands up as his vision slowly began to clear. He could feel the heavy blade still in his hand as he remained on the floor. Slowly he remembered where he was. His hand moved to handle of the blade and with a bit of psyching up he ripped it from his hand. His body bowed again then quickly slammed back down to stay on the floor as his skin’s pain flared once more. He dropped the blade next to him, with a metallic thud, as he moaned in great pain. He rolled to the side and found himself against the back of a knocked out sailor. More oriented now, he decided to remain down by the man. His healthy hand moved over the sailors chest and down to the man’s crotch. Blindly feeling, he accidentally groped the sailor before finding the man’s belt. Fleetingly he thought to himself, “Sorry bud, I’ve had bigger. But thank you for your belt.” A small smile crept across his face as he chuckled inwardly at his own humor. He began to bring the leather strap to his bleeding hand and began to wrap it tightly while the fight in the tavern continued. With his hand bound, but still bleeding he closed his eyes and rested against the man being as still as possible. He began to pray, "Leth I ask for forgiveness. If you've sent me back in hopes that I'd live a life I was not able to live previously, I've failed you. Once more I find myself in a tavern, beaten, bleeding, a lost cause, an animal. I want change, please give me strength to pull through this so I may live and fulfill my duty, whatever that maybe." oocHe may be down but I feel he is far from safe. Just assume he is acting dead.

[Ossshamamora]

OOCThere probably are errors and I'm really sorry, I can only post at the library right now so I had to be quick about it but that's cause I didn't want to hold you all up even more so than I have The chaos around her was distracting, the boys in front of her frustrating and everything else was lost to her. She only had two things in mind, to leave the damnable tavern or reach Cade. The barbarian had started this so it was likely it would end with him…they were the only options available to her. But she had no more time to think, they boys had moved, working in perfect harmony that showed they had been together many years or were blood kin. One reached for her arms, darting around her, while the other held her attention to the front, his dagger longer and with more reach. She was not a fighter, in fact she could count her fights on one hand and not use over four fingers, all the same she managed a little more than pathetic parry before her weapon was knocked from her hands. Her arms were locked behind her and the other lunged, he did not get far though, a table chair smacking into his arm and sending him sprawling. It gave her a moment to jerk her arms free but the other was not without a brain. The moment she was released, her body whipping around to strike she felt something heavy smash into her side. It wasn’t enough to topple her but it hurt, a lot. Hissing angrily she spun but something heavy had landed on her tail and kept her from moving properly, resulting in another blow, this one directed at her back. This time she toppled to the ground, her arm bending at an awkward angle, she managed so keep herself out of relative harm but there was a multitude of legs swinging at her. Her tail was pinned in place and no matter how she squirmed it was not coming loose. It was most likely a bench, heavy and solid and held in place by other sailors who had joined to two boys from before. “Die freak!” She felt it more than the bruising kicks, a dull blade sinking with perfect precision into her tail and sawing. They were attempting to cut it off. A fleeting flash of desperation surged through but it was quickly smothered by rage. Vile humans. She knew now why her kind hated them so. Raising herself up was not an easy task, her body swayed to and fro, she could feel blood, warm and drying from many different places but it was drowned out by the pain in her tail. It spurred her forwards her body thrashing violently, slamming the men into the wall and flinging the others away from her for a moment. She moved as quickly as she could, her movements almost as slow as the average humans, still her body could contort in ways theirs could not and it aided her as she jerked something wooden from beside her and slammed it into the human currently hacking at her lower end. He fell in a crumpled heap, though his cursing and spitting showed he was alive but more worried about the teeth falling from his bloodied mouth than the crazed snake-woman in front of him. But Amora had no more time to waste on him, instead slinking to the ground and moving away from the fray, she did not get far though. She could not move with her body in such a state. But eyes were drawn to her strange form and she once more felt herself being trampled by human feet, heavy and swift. Strangely enough, now that they were not attempting to cut her in two her fear and anger had dissipated to a slight nonchalance, allowing them to swing at her while she simply curled into herself weakly. She wondered if she would shift and attempt to flee in her full viper form but she would mostly likely be crushed like that as well. She even managed a small sigh before a foot collided heavily with her chest, stealing her breath and her vision; she felt herself go slack and did not bother to fight it. As quickly as the fight had begun it ended. The men had other worries, enemies creeping from behind and the need to escape kept them from checking to see if she was truly dead. And from her position on the floor none would doubt it. Blood matting everywhere, though not all was hers, her lack of movement and obviously damaged shoulder, she looked like a bloody mush on the floor. Amora could not feel any part of her, save for the slight throbbing in her tail and shoulder, she could move her right arm. It was either broken or dislocated, it didn’t really matter which for it would be useless if she was attacked again. Pulling herself up slowly she noted a few other unfortunates, dead or unconscious she wasn’t sure nor did she care. Her eyes were no longer on Cade or the door but the half broken table leaning against the wall. Half crawling, half slithering she managed to hid at least half of herself behind the table. It was not her smartest idea, in fact, it was the second stupidest thing she had done besides shifting into Dhani in room full of humans who nothing of her. All the same, she thought of her human form, what usually came with great ease required a thought process she had not used since she was a hatchling. The bones contorted more so than normally, her tail flung itself oddly, jerking and most likely drawing attention. The only things that came with ease were the scales that seemed to fall away from her face and the hair that pushed itself out a ridiculously fast pace. As her torso shrunk to fit her human form, she could feel now the damage done, more so than when her Dhani form was present. Never before had she heard of her kinds change of forms being painful but this was as close as one could get most likely, for when her thirty seconds was up, she lay half huddled behind the table, gasping for air. She was quite sure she was going to die now and if she didn’t she would never heal right. It brought an unusual calmness to her mind, she now truly knew her real two options. Fight through the haze covering her mind and live enough to escape or fall into the warm darkness and never wake again.

[Daniel Alecson]

Daniel stepped back from the gutted sailor, so as to avoid getting the dead mans blood and bile on his shoes. As Daniel turned to try and find a new opponent he was rushed by yet another sailor. The sailor tackled Daniel in the midsection, lifting Daniel clean off his feet as the sailor continued his charge, pushing Daniel back against the wall. The impact pushed the air from Daniel's lungs and it was only through the discipline instilled in him by his father that he didn't drop his swords. Yet the sailor kept pushing seeming intent on crushing the life from Daniel against the wall. It was a rather stupid move considering Daniel was armed and this Sailor was most obviously not. After regaining his senses Daniel slammed the pommel of the sword into the back of the mans neck. The man's head jerked slightly before he slumped to the ground. Daniel didn't think he'd used enough force to snap the man's neck and simply assumed that the sailor was now unconcious.

Pushing the sailors bulk away from him Daniel surveyed the scene before him. It was chaos the dead and unconcious littered the floor like heaps of garbage, this was battle, this was chaos and Daniel reveled in it. However something in the back of his mind was repulsed by the savagery of it all, the utter disregard for human life. Daniel shook of the latter feeling and tried to pick his next opponent from the crowd of riotus ruffians. Most of these men were so drunk they could hardly stand, there would be no challenge in fighting them and thus no glory to be won. It was at that moment he noticed two men enter the tavern wearing the smile of those ready to kill. There was fire in their eyes, the animal within Daniel roared joyously. It looked like Daniel had found some winners.

Daniel rolled his shoulder's trying to reduce some of the stiffness that had resulted from the impact. The entirety of Daniel's back was likely to be bruised from being slammed into the wall, he could already feel some soreness.When this is all said and done I'm going to get myself a nice hot bath, Daniel thought to himself shaking off the discomfort, he'd have time to tend his wounds later. Daniel did a little flourish with both his blades, besides it allowing him to easly shift them into a reverse grip this flourish was entirely pointless, it looked impressive though and Daniel did have a bit of flair for the dramatic. Daniel rushed forward into the crowd, trying to make his way to the new comers to the tavern. Mostly Daniel manuvered his way through the fighting masses. However one man who got in Daniel's way got a nasty, although shallow, slice across his chest. The man's some of the man's blood sprayed on Daniel's face, but Daniel took no notice. It was only moments before he came within distance of the two men he'd spotted from across the tavern.

"You are looking for a fight. Well come then!", Daniel said with a bloodthirsty grin plastered on his face. Made all the more frightening by the smeared blood on his face and his hair hanging wildly. Daniel was just outside of the range of your average longsword when he dropped into a defensive stance. Having both blades still held in a reverse grip, Daniel had his left blade in front of him, ready to deflect or block an attack. Daniel's right blade was held slightly off to his right side, ready to make a quick strike should either of the men leave themselves open within his strking range.

[Ikbin Vorgesetzter]

OOCAna said I could go ahead and post

As Ikbin held his hand extended towards Ana, a sailor rushed his side and tackled him to the ground. His sword was knocked out of his hand and before he could reach out and grab it, it was kicked underneath the bar by the many scrabbling feet in the chaos of the fighting.

Argh, I'm better with my hands anyways, he thought

As the sailor who tackled Ikbin to the ground scrambled to get on top of him, Ikbin thrust his knee into to the man's torso and forcibly whipped his shin into the man's jaw. As the blow landed, the sailor fell back to the ground and Ikbin torqued his body on top of the man. As the sailor bucked his hips to try and dislodge him, Ikbin grabbed the man's throat with his left hand and squeezed while with his right hand he furiously punched at the man's face. As blow after blow landed, blood splattered out and soon his hand and the man's face were covered in gore. In an effort to completely subdue the man, Ikbin jabbed his right hand into the man's left temple and in an instant the man was unconscious.

Getting up off the sailor, Ikbin quickly scrambled to retrieve his sword. As his hand grasped it's hilt he launched himself to his feet and took a moment to assess the fray. He stepped back and watched as the fighting continued.

I shouldn't have just recklessly charged in like I did after taking out the first one, he silently berated himself. When shit's about to hit the fan, you step to the side of the fan! Perhaps I shouldn't have drank as much as I did.

And despite his self criticism, there was something he found savagely pleasing about battle. Battle itself took Ikbin's own views of survival of the fittest and put them on a very tangible and physical level, and that appealed to his more primal desires. As Ikbin came to this realization, he was disturbed by it and he cursed himself for his lack of control.

A man who is able to rule himself completely if far greater than the conqueror of nations who is yet a slave to his own passions, he thought to himself. I still have a lot if work to do and a lot to teach myself.

As the battle continued, Ikbin did his best to avoid confrontation, but when it was inevitable he fought his way through to the end, constantly wishing that the fray would soon come to an end.

[Ana Sol Starris]

Ana never saw Ikbins hand, she was busy trying not to get trampled. Staying laid down on the floor, not so good an idea to do, there were certainly enough feet around. Pain radiated through her face because of that wild smack, the flow from her nostrils was bad as is and she hoped it wasn't what she thought it was. Eyes squinted, she looked for the swordsman with her eyes only to feel her body jerk and the sharp snap in her side spring alive into an antagonizing pain she had never experienced before. Someone had stepped backwards with the heel of their foot and straight onto her side, they probably didn't see her or maybe they did (and thats why they did it) letting out a gasp and then a pained, strangled noise trying to turn her body on its side towards the foot to avoid that pain. To no avail, the damage was done.

Whoever did it must have not been affected by a misplaced foot or it had been Ikbins attacker, or some other sailor, she had no clue nor did she really care at that moment. Heart racing as real adrenaline kicked in to stem the pain in her side she made a quick and instinctive desicion: she needed to find somewheres safe. Holding her sides she wanted to curl up and choke, but she knew better than that if she were to survive. Sucking up the pain while biting the inside of her cheek, her eyes a broken, watery dam. The set destination was behind the nearby table so she turned to be on her hands and knees with a sob and began crawling away slowly as if every movement sent a searing pain through her side. Of course if she didn't move quick enough, she'd get stepped on again and the thought of that was more than enough to get her moving quicker albeit more pain.

Once behind the table she huddled against the wall and prayed nothing would notice her, they would all leave her alone. The cloak, did she still have it? Yes she did! The excitement of that though stabbed her senses to calm down 'Aghhh!' she let out a mental scream, while exherting an outwardly hiss of pain. Breathing was getting harder and her heart kept pumping faster making her need more air. Ana tried to breath deeply and slowly and was only met with more pain, now just trying to breath shallowly she shut her eyes tightly and tryed to tune out everything going around her. Wishing it were a dream, an awful nightmare that she would wake up from any minute now, repeating to herself in frantic whispers she would wake up any minute now. Peeking her eyes open, she was sadly dissapointed that it wasn't. She was still in the bloody tavern in the middle of a stupid idiots brawl, with possibly a fractured or broken rib, she had no idea which it was, but at least she had managed to find a temporary safe spot.

[Chapiko]

OOCI hope I'm not too late to be starting in the thread...some people say I'm fine though, so be it. Sleep. That's all she wanted in this stupid little place. But apparently no one slept in this city, or if they did, not at night. Every night these insane people shouted and screamed and fought, making as much as a racket as they possibly could. The only upside to this situation was that the noise blocked out some of the airy-whispers, and when she did manage to fall asleep, (usually at the wee hours of the morning,) she was so tired that the sleep was so deep the night terrors didn't bother her. This was an extreme change to the nights in the Keerdash grove, attempting to ignore the whispers and instead listen to the soft rustling of the leaves and the sounds of her family sleeping, tucked into their warm furs and feathers. But when she fell asleep...the night terrors would make their appearance, depicting gruesome and macabre scenes of death, and the occasional one where she felt as if she had to hold and support the whole of Mizahar, of all the land and all the seas. Those were truly terrifying, yet no matter how hard she tried she couldn't wake up from any of them. And when she would wake up, no matter how hot it was outside, she couldn't help but feel cold. Chapiko quickly filed away those memories to the back of her mind, and opened her eyes, staring at the drooping ceiling, lying on the uncomfortable bed. She missed home so dearly, but anything to get away from the unfathomable monsters that quaked her mind was worth it. She sat up on the bed, sliding her legs off the side so they were dangling off the edge. Just sitting there for a few chimes, she could hear the moans and shouting of a brawl. It was typical, really, for this to happen in Sunberth. She had seen no order whatsoever in the city, but it didn't really matter that much. Standing up, she stretched for a few ticks and then pulled on her pants, (finding them much too uncomfortable to sleep in,) and wrapped her cloak tighter around her body, it being much too cold for her tastes. Not even bothering to straighten her hair, she walked out of the room, closed the door, and walked onto the balcony over the first floor. It was chaos. She could see people she didn't know or care for hiding in corners or under tables moaning in pain, and blood everywhere. What was this, a tavern-wide fight? it was crazy! Oh my dear gods, what in Eywaat's name is wrong with these people, to just mindlessly beat eachother senseless, or dead, she thought, inwardly groaning at the sight of dead bodies. She leaned over the balcony, but the whispers must have known that it was loud because they were screaming too. Oh, she just wanted them gone, away forever, so she could return to the lovely sands of Eyktol and away from these thugs! Chapiko covered her ears with her hands, pressing the palms into her head until it was almost painful. The efforts were almost useless though, as the whispers were just barely dulled by the extra layer of skin blocking their way into her ears. The screaming rage of the Drunken Dish dulled slightly into a loud roar, which was much better in any case, the sole reason she kept her hands pressed to her head. She hated the sounds of pain and terror, they reminded her too much of herself, scared and hopeless to the whispers and the nightmares. A bit of hair fell out of her hood while she was leaning over, but she didn't care. The lock of stray black hair wasn't worth removing her hands and leaving herself to the full force of the night, and the crazed shouts from below. She kept watching, for no reason except to be able to tell when she could finally go back to sleep or when the tavern had died down a bit, which took forever when something like this happened. This place was always full of drunken sailors and brutes.

[Archelon]

"Epilogue:" For all their glorious notions of fighting, for all their struggles. The people inside the tavern were graced with a very short period of time before the mobs came. A time when three vigilantes stalked amidst their numbers. Bringing to bear the hard won pain they so richly deserved. It started with AlekaAs per your request, soon to die . Poor Aleka was knocked out by a chair thrown with unerring accuracy, her lips bruised, her nose broken as she fell to the floor with dull, sickly thump. Her body would be halfway broken under trodden feet before she was tossed beneath a table until the mobs came. Sadly, to them though, she was a body, the wrong person in the right place at the atrociously wrong time. Her body was stripped of its possessions and the crowds would take her off to be hung at the gallows. Her unconscious breasts laid bare to the world before her breath was cut from her body. She would die, unconscious. That being the only mercy to be granted her. Next we would come to Mok, Cade, and the other unruly sorts. When the mob came they had tried to flee, and wound up several hundred mizas poorer and stewing in the stench of fish guts when forced to hide within a bin there as the mobs rushed past their place of hiding. They had escaped the pain of death this day, but not the pains of death in the future. One day, Dira would take them into her embrace. Likewise amidst the confusion, the others began to be tossed about as they escaped to the streets. Some went away, slinking like thieves in the night. Fallon and Ana Sol Staris amongst them. Others would be turned about, confused to run for hours until they found themselves at the edge of town, to take perilous shelter amidst the forests. Daniel, for his bravery(or foolishness) would be felled unconscious by a vigilante who evaded his blade like a leaf on the wind before knocking him forcefully in the stomach to keel him over. All that was before he was disarmed and then summarily dragged away to an undisclosed location for an interrogation. He would answer their questions, and perhaps the torpid meanings of his existence might be answered in turn as well.

Thread Award "..." And the Results!!!!: Xavier : SkillName 1-5 How/why? Observation 1 Lores: Fallon : SkillName 1-5 How/why? Rhetoric 1 Lores: Surviving the Mob Spoils: Ana Sol Staris : SkillName 1-5 How/why? Rhetoric 2 Acrobatics 2 Brawling 1 Lores: Surviving the Mob Spoils: Ikbin : SkillName 1-5 How/why? Rhetoric 1 Lores: Surviving the Mob Spoils: Daniel : SkillName 1-5 How/why? intimidation 2 Rhetoric 3 Negotiation 1 Observation 2 Wakazashi 1 Lores: Surviving the Mob Spoils: Carina : SkillName 1-5 How/why? Rhetoric 2 Seduction 1 Negotiation 2 Dealing with a pulp addicted fiend is never easy Lores: Surviving the Mob Spoils: Ossshamamora : SkillName 1-5 How/why? Seduction 1 Brawling 1 Unarmed combat 1 Lores: Surviving the Mob Wound: Tail wound Permanent scarring, in human form this shows as a lattice of disfigured scars on her right ankle. Kreig Messer : SkillName 1-5 How/why? Brawling 3 Lores: Spoils: Surviving the Mob Chapiko : SkillName 1-5 How/why? Observation 2 Lores: Surviving the Mob Spoils: Would you like some extra turtle sauce ? : Interesting thread, you guys survived the mob and know Sunberth a little bit better then before