RP: A Call to Arms

[Deykari]

See http://www.forsakenlands.org/forum/showthread.php?t=12556 if you're wondering what this is about.

The Call to Arms

[OOC: All OOC comments are to be within this format, though OOC comments should only be made when neccessary. If you want to suggest something/ask something about the story or anything within, PM myself or whoever else the question is directed to.

If you want to participate, post a character sheet following the format below and then either introduce your character into the story or wait and allow yourself to be introduced by somebody else. No double posting (although I will at the start, to seperate my character's thread from this introductory one).

I'll move the story along, so just go with the flow of what's happening. If you're new to this sort of thing don't worry about messing up, it's just a bit of fun - just get involved and we can help each other out as we go along. The story is set loosely in the Aabahran/Forsaken Lands world, but doesn't draw upon anything actually happening IG.

There is no ruleset in play here - everything shall be determined by roleplay. Example: If we encounter a band of goblins and one of them shoots an arrow at you, it's upto you to roleplay what happens remember though. Hopefully nobody will start 'god moding' (never taking a blow, finding a 'convenient hidden passage' to avoid traps, etc.) because it makes things less interesting ]

Character sheet

Name:

Race:

Gender:

Age:

Basic Description:

Alignment/Ethos (Optional - OOC info purely for player's knowledge, do not use this info in-story with characters unless characters have found it out for themselves):

Personality Traits (Optional - OOC info, see above):

Background (Optional - OOC info, see above):

--------------------

Plot background

The Shire, home to many of Aabahran's Halfling. Recently though, its population has dwindled. Strange noises can be heard at night, ghostly wails and piercing screams emanating from the southern forestry of the Haon Dor. It started with the farmland - first, crops were destroyed and cattle were killed. A few days later, people began disappearing from their bed, only to be found the coming morning as corpses in the street. Mayor Dumbleding and her Elders, they are becoming desperate for help. Looking to the nearby Val Miran for help was pointless, the towne's guards assigned to protecting its walls from the invading Nexus armies with none to spare.

Hearing of Mayor Dumbleding's plight, the Warrior's Guild of Mendil, in the far west, decide to dispatch some of their latest recruits to investigate and solve the problem that troubles this small village, to test their mettle. Contacted one by one, each selected warrior was asked to rendezvous at Mendil's port, to set sail eastwards, dock on the Western shores near the Haon Dor, and head to the Shire.

[Deykari]

Character sheet

Name: Leymedantis Tarfaeyr

Race: Human

Gender: Male

Age: Appears to be in his early twenties.

Basic Description: Leymedantis is roughly 6ft tall or so, with a slim build. He has a rather plain looking face - very short brown hair, blue eyes and pale skin. He wears a brown studded leather vest, brown leggings and a pair of black leather boots. A small hoop of leather on his hip has the handle of a large silver mace slotted through, so that it dangles next to his thigh.

Alignment/Ethos: Neutral/Neutral

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The waves gently lapped up against the side of the large wooden ship, the seagulls calling out as they flew high in the sky over the marina. It was near to midday, and the sun shone brightly, not a cloud in sight. All was calm on this sunny, lazy day in the port towne of Mendil - except for one person.

Leymedantis sprinted as fast as his long legs could carry him towards the boarding platform of The Sea Knight, one of the larger merchant ships that travelled between Mendil and the ports of the east. This was the ship Guildmaster Lokran asked him and the others to board, in order to travel across the Dune Sea.

He reached edge of the dock, next to the boarding platform of The Sea Knight, to find an angry looking man with holding a scroll.

"You... you Leymedantis Tarfaeyr?" he asked, quickly glancing at the scroll.

"That would be me. Sorry I'm la-" Leymedantis started, before being interrupted by the man:

"You're bloody late! Get on that boat, we need to have this delivery overseas by midnight!"

Leymedantis nodded firmly, hardly seeming apologetic, and carrying nothing but his clothes, his mace and a small sack filled with enough provisions to last the boat trip, he ran up the boarding platform and finally planted his feet firmly on the deck of The Sea Knight. The boarding platform was pulled away immediately and a loud bell at the hull of the boat was sounded- The Sea Knight was ready to set sail.

Leymedantis looked about the deck of the boat, finding himself amongst those he had been asked to meet - more warriors, easily distuingished by their armour and weaponry.

[OOC: So just as an introductory pointer, anybody who wishes to participate can introduce themselves here as one of the warriors aboard ship.]

[corpsestomp]

Character sheet

Name: Archnum Fortas

Race: Human

Gender: Male

Age: He seems to be in his late teens.

Basic Description: Archnum is wearing a full suit of black leather armor. He is only five and a half feet tall, and has dark green eyes. His short black hair is cut close to his head, and he has a short goatee. A pair of matching daggers sit on each hip, in loose sheathes. A few pouches dangle from his waist, and a large sack is strapped over his shoulders.

Alignment/Ethos: Chaotic Good.

----

Archnum watches Leymedantis scan the boat, as he did soon after boarding. Leaning against the railing, he has been waiting for quite a while, but decides to be friendly to the man. He quickly scans the crowd a second time, nods, and begins to stroll lazily towards the new man.

Archnum sits down lightly on a crate, "Captain gave you a bit of hell, huh? He does that to everyone. Don't take it personally, gave me hell and I was early."

While he speaks, Archnum is sizing up Leymedantis, noting the mace and his armor. When he finishes, he looks toward Leymedantis expectantly and says, "First time on a ship?"

[Questioner]

Name:?????

Race:Halfling

Gender:Male

Age:???

Basic Description: The halfling is only about five feet and a couple of inches tall, still much larger than most halflings. His nose, eyebrows, and lips are beautifully etched on his face. His eyes are a dark grey, eyelashes medium in length. His skin is very pale, translucently toned. Dark purple blood veins intricately line his exposed skin, wherever his armor is not present. For armor he wears a bright, silver-tinged chainmail shirt and scaly arm bracers. Around his neck is a worn metal necklace, the links seemingly worn at by the weather. The necklace intersects downward into his collar, whatever is on the end of the chain is hidden from sight. He wears a blood-blue cloak across his broad shoulders, the fabric is silken. On his waist is a belt and sheath, a normal looking dagger seems to rest within. Underneath the cloak obtrudes the form of a fairly large sword, the hilt is discernable from behind his head. The pommel is exquisitely crafted, the figurehead of a lion quite distinguishable.

Alignment/Ethos: ???

Background: ???

As the boat begins to leave the dock, a mysterious short man draws his cloak tighter around his body to ward off the crisp and piercing ocean breeze. Standing on the far side of the deck, he carefully analyzes the late-comer.

As Archnum approaches Leymedantis in light conversation, the man coughs abruptly, interrupting them. As Leymedantis and Archnum look over at the intrusion, they glimpse the man disappearing below deck.

[Deykari]

Leymedantis watches the Halfling head down the stairs below deck, before turning back to face Archnum, a bemused look on his face.

"He didn't give me hell. Just an impatient, grumpy old man worried about his cargo..."

He points towards the stairs that lead down below the deck, and continues: "...though by the looks of things, there are plenty of those types about."

Fixing his gaze back onto Archnum and managing a polite, though seemingly insincere smile, Leymedantis extends his left arm, offering his hand. "Leymedantis Tarfaeyr."

-----

Meanwhile, in the captain's quarters of The Sea Knight, the grumpy old Captain sits over the large wooden table that resides in the centre, a map unrolled over it. In the corner of the small cabin, a timid-looking, short Dwarven deckboy sits upon the bed, his stumpy legs swinging back and forth as he waits for his next order.

"Hrmph, those damn late arrivals have cost me an hour in travel time. I'll be sure to bill the Guild for it." he mumbles, tracing his finger over the route marked out in blue ink.

He raises his head, glancing at the deckboy, and barks, "Let them outside know we'll be docking at about midnight. There's fruit and fresh water in the barrels below deck if they want to eat or drink... if they haven't found them already."

The deckboy gives a quick nod, before rushing to his feet and straight out of the cabin door, slamming it behind him with a loud bang.

-----

On the deck outside, the young deckboy runs up the stairs to the raised platform on the hull of the ship as fast as his little legs can carry him. He cups his mouth with one hand, waves with the other, and yells in a loud, albeit high-pitched voice (at least, for a Dwarf), "We'll be dockin' at midnight. Cap'n says there be fruit and water down below if yer hungry or firsty, so help yerselves." towards the crowd of people upon the deck. He pauses for a moment, and then jogs back down the stairs and into the Captain's Quarters, again slamming the door loudly behind him.

[corpsestomp]

After sparing the yelling Dwarf a quick look and nod, Archnum turns back to Leymedantis, extending his left hand and a matching polite, though insincere smile. "Archnum Fortas, one of those types you noticed walking below-decks. No offense taken, to be sure."

Motioning toward the same hatch the halfling took, Archnum raises an eyebrow and mutters, "Wonder what he wants..." And without bothering to see if Leymedantis follows, turns to leave.

[Questioner]

As Archnum approaches the bottom of the stairwell into the lower deck, a hand comes up from behind and clamps to his mouth. Archnum turns to look and sees the halfling facing him, standing upon a barrel marked with two crosses 'XX', his index finger pressed to his lips.

"I need you to do something very important for me..."

The halfling tightens his grip on Archnum's mouth and twists his head towards the stairs, "You find out everything about that man up there you were talking to."

As Archnum attempts to say something from underneath the hand the halfling whispers menacingly, "And you had better not say anything about this, you understand?"

With a light shove, Archnum is thrown forward and up the stairs.

[corpsestomp]

After being tossed forward a couple steps, Archnum regains his balance. Straightening his jerkin and belt, he throws a dirty look back at the halfling, one that promises they will see each other again. After a quick glance to check his things are secure, he pulls his head up and walks silently back up the steps.

A dozen or more conversations are begun in his head and summarily dismissed, thinking that the simplest way might be best. As he approaches the opening to the deck, he spares one more glance down the steps, then steps into the bright daylight beyond.

After adjusting to the light, he spots the man he just met. Their eyes meet, and Archnum pointedly walks in the other direction, back to the railing he was leaning on. Pulling his matching daggers out of their sheathes, he rests his hands lightly on the hilts and slowly closes his eyes.

[Mattamue]

Description:

Perdan is a human male in his late forties and not a single one of those years has had the decency to treat him kindly. His gut, daring and heroic in its sacrifice, has taken the heaviest losses in this war against time. Casualties mount higher and higher until the toll taken is too terrible to speak, witness, or even think of. All the Reavers of Nexus and the Rat Kings of Syndicate could only dream of the incredible slaughter that this man wrangles into a belt buckle every day. The rest of his three-hundred-something pound frame has found some solace from the holocaust being visited upon his midsection. His legs, though chubby, are strong from carrying around this immeasurable belly. His arms, which show sign of once-attentive conditioning, stay strong by loading this immeasurable paunch with hopeless reinforcements. His neck and chin carry the wounded up from his abdomen and stack them in tight piles around his jowls. Rising out from the forlorn and desperate wails of these wounded is his face. It is carved at the peak of this six-foot four-inch mountain and the craggy slopes there are an obvious contrast to the rest of the man before you. The slopes begin with the eons of melting snow that have carved a cleft in his chin. Above this his lips are thick and hard like the many feet of ice that border the eroded ravines. His nose is a lone round boulder on this severe landscape and it is given room to breathe in all the crushing ice and sheer walls that surround it. Two caves howl as the unrelenting mountain wind tears across their entrance and from within these caves two watery brown eyes observe the treacherous fall below. His eyebrows are snowdrifts that have collected on the edge of a steep cliff waiting patiently for an unsuspecting hiker to avalanche on. Wispy gray clouds hover around the peak until they are matted back into place with a meaty hand and become hair once again.

---------------------

In the stern port corner of the lower deck more of the 'XX' barrels are tired to the floor and the walls. The rope that fastens them is worn to the point where someone with enough determination could wrangle a barrel free. Above the barrels a magical ball of light is attached to one of the timbers that make up the supports for the hold and lower deck of the ship. As the gentle waters of the dock move around the ship the lantern that holds the ball sways from side to side. This migrating pool of light reaches out into the darkness of the stern and occasionally illuminates the stack of barrels in the far back. Someone found that needed determination and freed a barrel from its frayed shackle.

Behind the burglarized stack of barrels and up against the port wall Perdan quietly sleeps. He is wrapped up in a bedroll with a barrel cradled under an arm like a newborn babe. Alcohol-induced stupor or simply deep sleep - he is oblivious to the gathering above him and the altercation on the stairs.

[Twinblades713]

Name:Wuuipo

Race:???

Gender:Likely male

Age: ???

Basic Description: This creature stands about three feet tall, and wears nothing but a towel rag about his head and a putrid loincloth about his waist. The filth that emanates from this being knows no bounds and his scent is none to be desired. His grubby feet meet dirty ankles as he scurries about. About his mouth is a crusted layer of what would be runny nose dripping and drool, mixed into a fine brown paste. His hair is naught but a few wayward strands matted down by dirt and grime. Although this one seems oblivious to most, he does in fact carry a weapon- a small rusted dagger- and a small coinpurse.

Alignment/Ethos: Chaotic Neutral

Background: Dirty

A small dirty creature wanders about. As his tummy begins to rumble, he looks down sternly at it and remarks, "Hmm, okies. We gets ye food!"

After a quick glance, he spots a rat-not a rare sight on the docks- and begins to pursue. The rat, no stranger to danger begins to scurry away, towards a boat that seems to be a good place to hide, offering many shadows beneath the deck. Wuuipo follows the rat, obliviously boarding the ship and slinking into the lower portion, easily slipping by the docksman loading the boat.

[corpsestomp]

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

As early afternoon approaches, the Captain oversees the last of the supplies loaded into the cargo bay.

"That'll have to do...we're already late."

"Aye, sir," answers a chorus of burly men.

"Prepare to cast off!"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Early afternoon settles into evening, and the sky turns from a light blue to violet. Lamps are lit all over the ship, and the Captain stands at the helm. Many of the crew have settled in to take watch, rest, or chat while they wait for something to do. They are clearly bored, and uninterested in many of the unfamiliar faces aboard The Sea Knight. They've obviously done this before.

Some idle chat is made, as well as plans for when they land. Some small-time gambling goes on, mostly involving dice, but some with cards. The chatter is lighthearted, but the crew remain amongst themselves.

As visibility nears to nearly nothing, a tremendous thump sends the ship reeling to one side, and grunts and squeals can be heard on both sides of The Sea Knight. Many men fall to the deck, shouting in surprise. More thumping sounds are heard has metal connects with wood. Grappling hooks.

"To arms, to arms!" the Captain shouts, bringing his crew to life immediately. Men grab hold of shoddy swords, worn axes and even hunks of wood to be used as clubs. Civilians cry out in alarm, a woman screams in terror, and a mad rush is made for the stairs to the lower compartments.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Brutally interrupted from his meditation, Archnum loses hold of one of his daggers when he is jolted from his rest. He manages to spring into an awkward tumble, away from the railings. A glint of light shows his lost dagger, but he only risks a fleeting glance, because the first claw rises over the top of the railing, and in between pickets, he sees a face that looks like a cross between a frog and a fish, with a rusty scimitar in between two rows of sharp yellow teeth.

Still in a crouch, he keeps his eyes on the railings, and notices at least a half-score more pairs of hands reaching to gain purchase atop the railing. Reaching blindly for his second dagger, he suppresses a moment of panic, knowing there are more boarding on the other side of the ship.

The creature has gained its feet on the deck, it's blue-green skin glistening with a disgusting ooze, and has its scimitar in hand when Archnum finally finds his lost weapon. The beast raises its arm to attack, and Archnum brings up the pathetic dagger in an attempt to block, knowing it won't work.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

High in the crow's nest, Gregory "Fasthands" Tark, sees a slender man in trouble on the deck. Picking up his shortbow and righting his quiver, he lets loose as stream of arrows at the nearest beast. Most of his shots miss or glance from the creature, but "Fasthands" isn't looking for accuracy, it's speed that matters right now...

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Below the deck, standing atop their battering ram, a creature much larger than its allies waits. Held tightly in his hands is a blood-red trident, and a malicious grin upon his face.

[Twinblades713]

As Wuuipo is nearly within grasp of his lunch, he is jolted forward and onto his face. Peering about for the cause of the disruption, his small ears perk up at the sound of several shrill screeches, followed by the sounds of feet pounding above and fighting. Almost simultaneously, a green-scaly fish-like creature appears from behind a barrel, hissing menacingly. Wuuipo screams a cry of fear,

"No ta be eatin!"

This creature, wielding sharp claws and razor teeth advances. Wuuipo, his loin-cloth soaked from fear raises his pitiful dagger in an attempt to defend himself. The creature crouches to strike, but is stopped cold, with surprise in its eyes. With a hiss, spittle flying from its mouth it falls over, screeching horribly in obvious pain. From behind the thing arises a form, a bit taller than Wuuipo. Dark grey eyes cradled by a pale complexion stare into Wuuipo's, not relinquishing the intention of his next move.

[Mattamue]

The horrible splintering noise and the impact of the battering ram is more than enough to wake Perdan from his nap. A single brown eye rolls open and blinks a few times before scrutinizing the details of its corner of the ship. The ram and the creature have entered on the starboard side and in the dim light of the hold Perdan can only see a silhouette of the fish man and his trident against the wash of light that comes from the hatch. As the sounds of battle trickle down the stairs into the hold the monster dismounts from his perch and moves toward that opening.

"Ahh snot," Perdan curses under his breath.

The view of the dark hold blurs and goes black again as Perdan slowly closes his eye. For a moment he considers sleep again and imagines the entire experience to be a dream. Then seawater begins to seep into his bedroll and any hopes for the refuge of slumber are dashed. Perdan slows his breathing back into a quieter sleep-sounding rhythm. He wonders if the monster has detected his presence and decides to remain alert and hidden for now.

[Questioner]

As the intruder falls to the ground, dead, the halfling wipes the blade of his sword on an empty cloth sack nearby. He looks about and glances at Wuuipo, the lower corner of his mouth yields a fraction of a movement but it soon returns to that adamant complexion.

Growls and hisses come from behind the two. The halfling defensively brings up his sword in front of his body, Wuuipo still cowering behind him.

A shadowed figure crawls slowly from out of the dark. Its feelers tentatively searching for a scent in the air. It stops six yards away from the two and rears its head into the light cast by a hanging lantern. Disgust! The creature's bulbous head is disfigured by an assortment of briny mollusks that have slowly dug their way into its amphibious skin. Mottled green and baring translucent teeth, the creatures "yowls" at the halfling.

[Deykari]

Prior to the raid, Leymedantis was sound asleep, getting some rest for the day to come. When the sounds of battle first reach his ears, he stirs, rolling over and mumbling to himself. Yells, screams, the clang of metal on metal – those accustomed to it easily recognise the ambient ‘rabble’ as battle, but Leymedantis, never having encountered a real battle before, does not immediately realise the situation in his slumber.

It takes a good five minutes for him to realise that something is not right. He opens his bloodshot, exhausted eyes and sits upright, suppressing a yawn with his left hand. He is resting behind some large wooden crates that sit upon the raised deck of the bow. He takes a moment to try and fight off the confusion that comes when one has been awoken from their sleep, rubbing his hair with his soft, uncalloused hands. He groggily crawls over to a large gap shrouded in shadow between two of the crates, and peers through, to see what is happening – his eyes open wide at the scene before him. The warriors he saw earlier pottering around deck as he boarded now do battle with a group of humanoid creatures – tall, muscular and covered from head to toe in turquoise scales that shimmer between hues of blue and green in the dim twilight.

There are about 12 of the creatures, an evenly matched fight with the warriors below in terms of numbers, but the creatures appear to have the upper hand. As Leymedantis looks over the deck, an expression of horror and awe etched onto his face, he sees an Elven lady fighting with a sabre slashed on the arm and then pushed overboard. Some of the other warriors appear to be holding their own fairly well, swinging and parrying with large swords, though the feelings of fear and terror that plague his mind do not allow him to fully comprehend the situation still. He hears a yell of distress from almost immediately below him. Looking down from the raised deck, still shrouded in shadow, he sees a Dwarf laid on his back on the deck, trying to edge his way backwards from the creature stood over him, wielding a bloodied scimitar and edging forwards towards the Dwarf. The creature’s mouth is covered in a thick, pale green ooze that runs down his chin and drips onto the floor, his footsteps squelching with every step.

Above, Leymedantis fumbles for his mace, his entire body trembling. He pulls it out of the loop on his leggings and raises it in his right hand by the bottom of the handle, slowly bringing his left hand to grip it tightly just above. His arms tremble uncontrollably as he watches the scene below, his legs too shaking. Awash with fear, Leymedantis watches the creature step over the slightly dazed Dwarf and raise his scimitar high over his head. Even with the noise of battle filling his ears, he can still hear the heavy, exaggerated breathing of the creature below. Frozen with fear, Leymedantis does nothing but watch as the bloodied scimitar is brought straight down onto the Dwarf’s neck, not quite beheading him but nontheless fatally wounding him with a huge cut that spans the width of his neck and runs about half-way deep. A tiny geyser of blood spurts from the wound, and Leymedantis immediately edges back a pace before collapsing onto his front, his mind numbed and his legs possessing hardly any strength. The mace makes a loud ‘THUMP’ as it slams against upper deck floor, but Leymedantis does not seem to care as he simply lay there, shaking and sobbing uncontrollably.

-----------------

In the antechamber to the hold, the large creature that faces Wuuipo and the Halfling wafts its feelers about in the air as it makes quiet, low-pitched purring sounds. The lips of the creature are long and thick, looking quite like traditional Dwarven sausages. They part, leaving a filmy web of thick slime and saliva running from upper to lower lip in the cavity of its mouth. The web is broken when the creature begins to communicate in a low-pitched warble.

“Vathyr zahg heidar!” it says, taking another step forward, its foot making an almighty squelch as it touches the floor. The tongue it speaks in does not appear to be in common. His body faces the two before him, but his head is locked firmly upon the corpse of the creature to the left of the pair. “VATHYR ZAHG HEIDAR!” it warbles again, this time much louder, his head now turning to face Wuuipo and the Halfling. Crouching ever-so-slightly, it picks up a scimitar from the ground. The long feeler-like fingers on its hands certainly don’t appear to be lacking strength as they fold around the handle of scimitar one by one, raising it in front of it so that the blade points upwards.

-----------------

In a small locked store room within the hold, a young man and woman sit within the pitch black. The woman is slumped against the back wall, shaking and trying to suppress her sobbing whilst the man sits next to her with an arm around her shoulders, trying to comfort her.

“W-w-what in the Rift’s n-name are they?! W-why are they atta-attacking us?!” she manages to whisper to the man, who is trying to do all he can to hide his own fear.

“Sahuagin. Raiders of the ocean.” The man says, before gulping audibly as he swallows the little saliva his mouth produces. “I read a book about them.” he continues. “They’re malicious creatures, only concerned with fighting and killing. If we wait here, they’ll eventually leave and we’ll be safe dear.”

The tone of voice in which the man speaks completely lacks in confidence. Evidently, the increased sobbing from the woman and the sigh from the man shows that he has not even convinced himself, never mind the woman.

[Bl3h]

Name: Ghivan De Bunkle

Race: Gnome

Gender: Male

Age: Seems to be in his early fifties.

Basic Description:

Draped in a robe composed of a combination of incredibly bright colours, is a gnome of quite short stature (obviously), leaning on the support of a gnarled staff. A slender, dark grey beard stretches down to his sternum, curling upwards at the bottom.

---------

A small cloud of smoke appears out of thin air upon the main deck, a little to the side of the intense battle. Limping quite dramatically from the cloud of smoke, with a cough and a weeze is a gnome by the name of Ghivan.

"Ah.. Looks like they could use a little bit of help.." says Ghivan, with small sparks of electricity apearing between his stubby finger tips.

[corpsestomp]

As Archnum attempts to bring up his second dagger to parry the large scimitar, a stream of arrows pelts the deck around him. The sahuagin stops mid-swing to put an arm in front of his face, and takes an arrow on the forearm, and one in the stomach as well. Several other arrows glance harmlessly off his scales.

Seeing his moment, Archnum springs from his crouch in a dual dagger thrust at the creature's stomach, firmly embedding both. He manages a small smile to himself, but his grin falters when the beast merely roars and brings his arm back for another mighty chop. Pulling his daggers free and spinning quickly away from the scimitar, Archnum manages to evade most of the blow, but still takes a cut along his shoulder for his trouble.

Thinking quickly he stabs as quickly as possible at the creature, landing wound after wound, sidestepping and dodging the impossibly strong creature's attacks. Jumping backwards to regain his bearings, Archnum begins circling his opponent, looking for an opportunity. Suddenly, the beast lurches forward, and Archnum takes another hasty step back, but the scaled vermin drops on his face.

Looking above the senseless sahuagin, the grinning face of a crewman is the first thing he sees, holding a very large piece of wood in both hands.

"I owe you one."

The muscular man shrugs and grunts, and runs off to find something else to fight. Eager not to have to fight this one again, Archnum does another dual dagger thrust, this time into the beasts neck, and it thrashes for a moment before lying still. After wiping his bloody daggers on his leggings with a grimace, Archnum peers up into the crow's nest. He throws a hasty salute to the man with the bow, but "Fasthands" is already slinging arrows in another direction.

Chanting a single word, Archnum disappears suddenly.

[Twinblades713]

Wuuipo stares from between fingers at the halfling doing battle with the vehement creature that seemed to replace the one that fell almost instantly. With several parries, feints and dodges the halfling seemed to easily hold his own, until a second Sahuagin appeared to aid its kin. Immediately put on the defensive by the sudden influx of extra attacks, the large halfling began to back into a wall. Cornered, and faced with no other choice, he lowered his form and tackled the nearest creature, leading with a dagger that pierced the creatures side. Taking this wound, he slid his knife up the creature's torso, causing the creature to emit a bestial wail.

He frowned, hardly seeing this as a victory when the other Sahuagin immediately overbeared him. Fighting to get the thing off his back, the halfling let out a cry of frustration, followed by one of pain caused by a slash across the shoulder. Worrying if this may be the end, with yet another creature approaching him out of the corner of his eye, the one attacking him stopped. The halfling turned to see the small little creature he had just saved gnawing on the back of the Sahuagin's leg, at the same time swinging his dagger into it. Caught sight out of the corner of his eye the newest Sahuagin drawing near.

[Mattamue]

Moments, seconds, minutes pass inside the store room. The couple has no concept of time and occasionally the louder death wails make their way through all the lumber separating them from the real world outside. These deaths are grim reminders of their own possible end and how near it is drawing. The possibility hangs above their heads in the dark pressing against their backs and weighing down their spirits in an almost tangible burden that robs them of any sense but fear.

The latch to the door lifts against the brace once, twice, a third time. There is a pause in the darkness before the latch is lifted again. This time there is no release and the latch doesn't fall back into its resting place against the wood brace across the door. A grunt of exertion worms its way through the door into the room beyond with the frightened couple. There is a soft cracking as the latch cuts into the brace. The grain there compresses and bends until some begin to give way with rustling cracks as greater pressure is applied. Finally the wood surrenders the fight and gives way with a crunch. The latch finishes its turn unobstructed and the door swings open.

"Figures the best spot is taken," Perdan says to the couple in the store room, "I suppose you consider I owe you for breaking the bar across your hidey hole." The man takes a moment to relax the iron grip he's applied to the woman next to him before he replies, but Perdan cuts the man off just as he opens his mouth, "I suppose you'll owe me when I fight off whatever monsters have come to call. Dead monster is a mite more effort than a dead wooden board across a door." There is a pause as Perdan looks down and nudges the remains of the wooden brace back into the room. The woman takes a try at saying something in that pause, but Perdan closes the door on her half open mouth. The couple turn to each other in the familiar darkness with half-open mouths and consider their situation again. They also consider who might return expecting a favor in exchange for breaking the lock on their hiding place.

[Questioner]

Pain racked through the halfling's mind. The cut on his shoulders didn't seem deep or even very large, however, the wound burned with a sensational fury. Grappling with the Sahaughin creature, he glanced down at the queer creature he had saved while disposing of the first beast.

The Sahaughin beast snarled in anger at the incessant gnawing and scratching from Wuuipo. It began to shake its slimy leg vehemently, trying desperately to get the prey off of him.

In that instant that the beast looked down, the halfling saw an opening. He threw an awkward punch directly at its cheekbone, knocking it to the ground. In his brief relief he sheathed his dagger and turned to the right. The deck that he was in had an assortment of practice weapons, consumables, and shields. In the corner of one wooden rib of the ship was a stack of spears. The halfling quickly searched through the different poles, "Come on..."

Suddenly, a loud squeal was emitted from behind him just as he felt a large blade on a shaft. The halfling pulled up a steel halberd from the pile and turned to see the Sahaughin holding the dirty creature in one of its webbed hands. Its face was pulled into a snarl, already the bruised eye was swelling from where the halfling hit it.

[Twinblades713]

Wuuipo, gripped by the thug of a scaly thing gasped for air. After a cry for mommy, he was thrown against the wall, HARD. Running around with little sense of direction, he regained his bearing. Frantically searching for sometihng heavy, he found a shield that was nearly too heavy for him and heaving it around barrels and up stacks of crates, he got it high enough, and waited.

Wuuipo watched as the strange halfling began to maneuver around, keeping one Sahuagin between he and the other, so as to only fight one at a time. During the halfling's circling efforts, the dirty kobold heaved his shield from off the high stack of crates, with a vicious scream of "NAAAHHHHH!!!", stunning one of the Sahuagin. Then jumping headfirst onto a loaded crossbow, Wuuipo landed and it fired, wildly ricochetting off of a sword hilt and hitting the other Sahuagin, the one with the bulging eye, in the neck causing it to fall to the ground twitching and bleeding.

Wuuipo's head burst into a fiery torrent of pain that he had never quite felt before, followed by darkness.

[Deykari]

[OOC – Just a friendly reminder, try to ‘control’ only your own character and any minor (non plot specific) NPCs – you may end up having somebody else’s character act in a way that they wouldn’t normally act. Going to start bringing the raid to an end now so we don’t spend too much time on a side plot. ]

Still sobbing and laid on the ground trembling, Leymedantis finds himself almost completely unable to think as his mind is clouded by panic and fear. It is the shrill scream of a creature – definitely the scream of one the Sahuagin by the distinctive warble – that piques his interest enough to make him crawl over to the edge of the raised platform he lay on to see what is happening...

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The captain of The Sea Fury stands in the centre of the exposed deck, surrounded by three Sahuagin. A few corpses litter the deck, both crew and Sahuagin, and a few crew members sit about nursing their wounds. A Sahuagin corpse appears to be directly to the left of the captain, a geyser of blood coming from a wound in the neck.

“Try and invade me ship will you, eh?” he yells, angrily. He wields a mithril longsword in each hand, continually turning to look at each of the three Sahuagin in turn that now circle him.

With a grunt, one of the Sahuagin behind the captain lunges forward with his trident, attempting to charge him. Without even looking, the captain swiftly sidesteps to the left and turns, swinging both swords towards the Sahuagin’s head like a pair of scissors. The edges of both swords connect with each side of the neck, cutting it lean off of the body. The momentum of the body keeps it moving forward as it begins to collapse onto the floor whilst the head rolls backwards. The deck around the captain is soaked in blood, whilst spatters of the crimson fluid are dotted about his clothing and face.

Taking initiative, the captain then turns back around to face the other two Sahuagin and lunges forwards, stabbing both of them in the abdomen without hesitation. As he withdraws his swords from their body, the two Sahuagin drop to their knees, mumbling in their low warbly voice, before dropping face down on the deck in a pool of their own blood, almost in unison.

“Dealt with hundreds of these fishboys, and I’ll be damned if a couple of babies are going to run me off my own ship.” He says firmly, glancing at the blood and bodies on his deck. He places his longswords in his two hip sheathes and rubs his hands together.

“Damn deckboy better be ready to clean this mess up and not hiding somewhere.” the captain mutters, before a moment later angrily stomping towards the stairs to the lower deck.