Raptor

Sybil is determined, so thusly that she doesn’t seem to care about the mortal danger she has put herself in. She finds herself suddenly torn from her subject of torment, shins and arms blackened by burns from the volatile energy. She finds herself in the air above, before suddenly jerking to the side. She pauses mid-air, glyphs on her boots flashing to life a violent red before she dives from the wind towards the ground. She notes in passing, Runes’ words, but says nothing. There is no time. It is only seconds between actions and the glyphs shift from red to yellow as the woman moves suddenly with a speed most unnatural. She knows that there is no time, the creature meaning to harm them with whatever means it has. It’s choosing Sinjari is no light ploy. Sybil curses inwardly and thrusts herself forward in the spare seconds between impact and her own footfall to the ground. She grasps ahold of Sinjari ‘round the middle as she blurs in and out of sight in her movements. No doubt the grab is rough and uncomfortable – Sybil slows only a fraction with the added weight of another body, but she is still a blur of yellow as the glyphs on her boots begin to fizzle. The magic is worn to limits, but it has served purpose. Sybil and Sinjari are now out of range of the dropping mace that might have been their undoing. Positioning Sinjari behind one of the few remaining pillars, Sybil hisses as the magic completely flutters out of her boots and she gives a hardened, displeased look to the creature. Her tussled appearance gives her a waifish look as though she belongs better in the mists. Daggers repositioned into a fighting position in her hands, Sybil flares to life a gentle purple glyph that seems to form a shield in front of them, the magic crackling at the edges as a periwinkle oval takes shape before them.

Koori is quiet, watching as Senko reminds the man before them of his mortality before finalizing the blow. She steps back as the body falls, as though finding the mess distasteful and not wanting to get it on her shoes. The weapon that had been held near the man’s wrist finds itself sheathed quickly at her hip, and her honey colored gaze finds Senko’s amethyst and she offers a smile – just enough to crinkle the eyes. “You’d have won. One way or another.” It is a vote of confidence that despite his lack of skill via swordplay, he would have found another way to finalize his task. Her attention swivels, however, looking around the tent. Surely there are tools within that they can find useful to their needs. There is likely to be some manner of planning material, but not the type that suits their needs. Koori’s gaze flickers along for a moment before she considers a lamp swinging slightly from a pole. It takes a moment for Senko’s question to catch her attention, and she blinks before motioning to the bag at her side. She sets it upon the captains table and lets the contents spill forth after unbuttoning it. Within is flint and steel, a handful of smoke bombs, various small knives, knuckle dusters, some rope, shuriken, and three vials of poison with a single vial of antidote. Each was properly labeled, of course. “This is what I was able to bring with, for now. I’m sure we could find more stuff laying about for us to use.” She motioned to the lamp, and the handful of swords thrown haphazardly in the corner. Fortunately, they were well equipped now that the proper weapons were in their hands. She contemplates for a moment and nudges a toe into the muddy ground and wrinkles her nose. “Mud will make it hard to start a fire…” She murmurs, as though able to hear his thoughts, “But – it will make a lot of smoke, so it is a risk we might want to take.” Her hands clasp, interlocking fingers as she pops them by pushing outwards. Rolling her neck and shoulders, Koori lets out a deep breath before grinning. “We could try to disguise. There might be enough here for you to patch together a non-bloody outfit.” Though she is dubious of this as the blood continues to seep into the ground. “There’s definitely not enough for both of us, though.” The woman shifts, resting her weight on one leg, hand ‘pon her hip. Her gaze seems to wander for the longest moment before lighting significantly. “On my way in, I saw barrels. I didn’t think anything of it as my focus was getting here, but. Whether it’s sake or oil for the lamps…it’s highly flammable. The problem being that it’s near the far wall.” She points with her index finger in the direction that she came in.

The power of friendship.

There is no time to congratulate Rune on his survival, for any distraction from her own might render her useless in the ongoing battle. Relief does manage to find her mind, however, and it curbs her inward panic and settles the rising bile in her throat. As her daggers find purchase in the empty vessel, Sybil is surprised at the angry lashing of the energy that suddenly emerges and writhes around her. First, she notes, is that it is hot. Unbearable and angry, it slices through her would be armor with little care and the skin beneath it blackens and blisters almost immediately. She curses loudly, but does not yet flee though her body is trying to rebel her conscious efforts. She twists her daggers in an effort to slice through the thick armor, to pop the joints free so that the menacing weapon will be dropped and not such a threat to their well-being. She manages only a half turn of the blade before she finds pieces of the ceiling raining down upon her. Unfortunately, it is too late, and Sybil is not fast enough to escape, so she ducks instead, hoping to shield herself from ruin by using the large creatures body as a wall between herself and being smooshed like a bug.

While Senko found it necessary to enter through the front gates, there was another who sought alternative means of entry. Her crouched figure had watched his debacle of an entrance, a small sigh and a shake of her head given as his face planted firmly in the mud. “Senko…” His name is said with a sigh, though quietly lest someone nearby be listening for whispers on the wind. Koori finds this doubtful, as the encampment is hardly more than a farce. They are disorganized at best, and woefully underprepared for an attack of any kind with their troops scattered to random patrols that are likely to not yield any results unless they happen upon them with sheer luck. May they not be in favor with their Gods. As Senko approaches and is apprehended, she begins her move. She slinks forward in the underbrush and uses the foliage to her advantage to gain ground to the camp until she is pressed against a wall. Unfortunate thing, walls, as they are often difficult to get over. Koori is prepared, however, and despite the large scythe on her back, she manages to scale the short walls, which have been hastily erected in hopes of keeping undesirables like herself out. They are hardly a hindrance, as her feet hit mud on the other side. She grimaces at the noise that permeates the air with her landing and hopes that whatever blabbering Senko is likely doing is enough to keep attention off of foreign noises on the far side of the camp. Divide and conquer was a bold strategy that wasn’t necessarily one that would pay off, but it appeared to be working in their favor so far. With careful footsteps, she edges her way to the main tent, awaiting until the voices within signify that she won’t be stabbed upon entry. The mud clings to the bottom of the tent, not willing to relinquish it to her insistence but finally relents as her grip becomes frustrated. It is with some difficulty that she manages to weasel her way beneath the heavy fabric and into tent, only to arise behind the captain like a sinister shadow. She makes no move for the moment, instead seeming to wait for the Captain’s response to Senko’s question. “Close…what?” The man stumbles over his words, reaching for a weapon. His hand is immediately stilled as the sharp end of a wakizashi presses against the soft flesh in a quiet threat that continued action will find it severed from his body. “I would just answer the question, if I were you.” Koori comments rather pleasantly, as though she isn’t threatening to remove the hand from limb. “What do you want?” The captain asks, though his gaze flickers from time to time to the weapon in Senko’s hand, his fingers twitching as though he aches to reach for his own. Koori would not blame him if he tried, it was only human nature, after all. Her figure draws closer, crowding at the mans back as her hand unclips the scythe at her back. Grasping it with one hand, she allows it to lean against one of the upright poles of the tent, knowing that Senko will gather it when he finds it fitting to do so. "Well, firstly, we'd like you to answer the question. How do you feel about shoes?" There is a soft giggle, as though there is an amusement factor to his potential answer.

It happens so fast it is comical – Sybil only notices the giants path seconds before it impacts with the unsuspecting Rune. “Rune!” She cries, though it is too late. He is likely plastered to a wall beyond those that are visible. Anger and grief tinges the edges of her vision. She resists temptation to try to ascertain where Rune has fallen, the threat of the giant far too great. The oncoming pillars are reason enough to spring her into further action. In the commotion, it is easy to miss the momentary sigil lighting on Sybil’s shoes, but she suddenly becomes much faster than she had been before, springing around one of the pillars easily. She vaulted over the second, and ducked beneath the third, only just. Once these obstacles were out of the way, Sybil paused only for a second to take into account the status of her team-members. Had Sinjari survived the rush? And the girl, could she still be standing? There is precious little time to be considering such things, and Sybil finds herself moving before thinking. Her body propels forward, advancing on the monolith. Daggers still drawn, Sybil seeks to separate him from his weapon, his left arm, to be precise. She goes for the wrist and elbow, hoping that her daggers find purchase between plates of armor.

Shanna listens to her friend, a placid smile on her face. There are many accomplishments that Proteus has managed over the span of years that they have known each other, and she finds that fact uplifting. If Proteus can manage, perhaps she can too. It makes it seem less daunting, in any case. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m gonna stop a few places on the way home, anyway, so I can always get supplies where I stop. I’ll probably stop in Lagrimosa somewhere and pick up some gifts for the people at the tower. Tristram certainly deserves one, at least. I’ve been gone so long.” Shanna frowns at this, touching a single finger to her lower lip before tapping it repeatedly. “Oh! That reminds me!” She pauses to once more rummage in the depths of her bag as she shoves a fry into her face. Victorious, she emerges with a small, well preserved clipping of a tree in a glass jar. “This is an ashplumb tree. They make the best pancake syrup. You should grow them and try it.” She offers. “I’ll try to remember to bring some next time I come visit.” As they finish their meal and find themselves drawing closer to the time in which she would depart, Shanna shuffles her feet along the hallway towards the airship that she would likely call home for the next week or so. “Soo….this was really fun, but next time let’s not take on giant serpents, yeah?”

Chaos. Chaos that is randomly decided by dice rolls and the like. I also enjoy loosely-plotted quest RP. I like comedy and sillyness.

It's definitely a favorite!

Isn't that how it works, though? Happens a lot, seems like.

A video from my childhood.

“Yeah.” Sybil declares to Rune, her hands itching as the creature falls. She shifts, looking uncomfortable with the situation but her fingers draw her daggers from scabbards at her hips. She contemplates a course of action, leaning away from Rune and his spellbag as the daughter and father move forward. The lodestones are a curious thing, and she finds them fascinating as they work – despite their inherent failure. The creature rises, liken to a phoenix, and Sybil finds herself bracing against the surge of power that ensconces the hallway. She stumbles with it, taking a step or two back before regaining her composure. There is something hardened in her gaze, this time. No fear has been allowed to dictate her courses of action beyond that she must act. Noting the coils of energy, Sybil ventures a guess that it would be best avoided if possible, and she begins her forward motion. Daggers in respective hands, she approaches on swift feet, shortly after the old man and his progeny. Feet pound against the ground as she advances, moving to put herself in a position to take aim at the potentially weak spot of the knee. Sybil notes that it takes both hands to wield the mace, and hopes that it is not simply rage that incites him to grasp it with both, and thus would take him the same amount of time as those wielding a greatsword to react. She ducks rather suddenly, rolling beneath the large creature and popping back up as her dagger seeks a soft piece of armor behind the knee to dive into.