Herald

FORGOTTEN REALMS - Gambit of Scoundrels

A skilled illusion, Leon noted as he watched the telltale shimmer waver in the air as the horses and wagon passed through a space which moments ago seemed blocked off an inaccessible. Whomever placed the enchantment had an eye for detail, they had used the right type of plants so as to not seem out of place, and simulated wild growth rather than just make it seem impassible. It's greatest defense was that unless you were aware of -something- being in this are, you wouldn't even think to probe for an illusion this far away from civilization. A wizard's tower, sure. Ancient ruins, maybe, but such enchantments required upkeep or a powerful source to replenish the magical energy. He wondered if they had been wise enough to cover the encampment from the sky. Ground illusions did little to deter flying familiars and other spies.

Palisades, small towers, and decently armed men and women. Something still did not sit right within Leon, how much of a personal interest had Lord Hastlon invested into this venture... and why. It would certainly be a nice feather in his cap to restore Scarsdale or at least bring it back under the fold of the Dalelands government in exile. This was a bit over invested in his opinion though, if it weren't for the fact that none of the hirelings had obvious ties to Hastlon, he could almost swear this was a more militaristic effort than he had been led to believe.

In the end it mattered very little, he believed Mask had guided him here for a reason. He just had to uncover that reason and see it to the endgame.

“Well… Breck has been expecting you. I’ll pass word that you plan to do that. Unless of course our ‘new recruits’ will share that with him once they get inside.”

"You might instruct your scouts to search for a camp," he said offhandedly, his eyes not even looking towards the guard, "there were at least a half dozen of them, I sincerely doubt they were all on a random stroll when they happened across us. And unless such men prefer to sleep in a giant fleshy pile, they'll have more valuables with the rest of their band at their camp. Hopefully we killed the warriors among them."

He was making some assumptions, but they were solid enough with the evidence at hand. Besides, the more these scouts killed, the less might have a chance to correct the missed crossbow bolt that had nearly smashed his own skull open. He waited until the wagon passed into the encampment before jumping down from his post, rolling his tense shoulders and neck to relieve the stress of having kept a strict watch for the short journey. He fell into pace with the rest of the hirelings, taking the third or so place in line behind their guide as they were herded into their meeting with Breck.

Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

"You worthless, wretched child. You let them hurt you, because you want it to hurt. You seek kindness in murderers, and place trust in traitors. Foolish being. Give thanks, for today, our paths have crossed. I will grant you that which you seek. But be under no illusions that your fortunes have changed. You will never find peace, Izaac Valentino."

Val felt the tendrils burning in his chest, the image of red hot spikes driving into the sensitive organ mirrored by the flashes of pain that lit across his nervous system like a wildfire. He bit back a scream, piercing the inside of his cheek until blood filled his mouth. He had been stabbed. He had been shot. Hells, he had been tortured by self-extolled masters of the craft and never once felt pain like this. A weaker man's mind might have broken under the assault, but Val had suffered too much and learned to deal with the cost to break now. And so he embraced it instead.

I do want it to hurt. From pain, comes strength. From strength, comes survival. From survival, comes a change in every living being's fortune, Val thought to himself, his mind instinctively beginning to shut away the pain, besides, we're hunting the King.

"I am Mercy, the Great Devourer! I forgive you for your weakness... and I grant you a second chance to seek your vengeance."

Val's eyes opened, and he realized at some point he must have collapsed onto the floor and lost consciousness. His chest still burned, and he could swear there was a feeling of... writhing inside of it. Like Mercy had somehow hollowed out his entire chest cavity and squeezed itself inside. An impossibility, but it wasn't like Val really understood what he had just done.

Covering up the pain in his eyes, he grinned widely and coughed out a spatter of blood onto the ground. "See, told you the big guy would be up for it," Val said, his voice suddenly hoarse and he winced as he felt his heart seemed to constrict within his chest, "Dust me though, that stung a bit." He reached down to his side pouch, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a match. A deep drag on the small paper wrapped helped bring some normalcy back to his senses, which were still going haywire from the overload of pain.

"Hello?" She said hesitantly, her voice measured, and weighed with anxiety. "Is anyone there?"

Val's reflexes exploded into action, the cigarette dropping from his lips as he threw himself towards his rifle and took aim in the direction of the voice, his still blurry sight failing to draw in a proper sight on the speaker. He blinked hard, cursing himself inwardly for weakness at a time when their lives could be in danger and slowly the image resolved into a woman.

"Uhhh... friend of yours, ladies?," he asked, his rifle still pointed towards the stranger.

FORGOTTEN REALMS - Gambit of Scoundrels

Convenient, he arrives too late to risk his life, but just in time to guide our suddenly rudderless ship, Leon thought to himself, eyeing the scout warily, and the Helmite just gave him all the answers he needs to pass a cursory probe into his objectives.

It wasn't as though they had any choice though, the only other option would be to divvy up the supplies in the wagon and go their separate ways. A tempting option, but a short sighted one he admitted to himself. Looking out over the dead he wondered how many more traps they would find themselves in before the trip was over. He unclipped the mask from his face, returning his holy symbol to his waist and wishing he knew more about their destination.

As everyone got ready to get on the move again, Leon checked his equipment, cleaning off his sword and checking his wounds to be sure they were clotting appropriately. He adjusted the potions clipped to his waist, checking the seals and ensuring none were broken or tampered with. "We should take a few minutes to at least see what assistance the dead can still provide," he said, crouching down next to the wagon driver's body and checking through his pockets. He wasn't interested in the coin, making a show of tossing any coin pouches in the back of the wagon, but sometimes an extra waterskin or potion on the road could save your life.

"The dead want for nothing anymore, and by the time any allies can reach here, half the bodies might be gone to the wolves or whatever else wanders these lands. Better by far that their gifts help the living," he said, his only real answer to any protesting voices, "take notes of their faces. Lord Hastlon I'm sure will have an interest in the fates of his mercenaries."

The grim task completed, Leon swung up into the wagon, taking the reins in one hand and looking at the scout. "Can you drive, scoutling?," he said, distrust slipping into his voice more than he intended, "if so, you are welcome to take the reins. I will provide some protection to the next driver, but I will need to be close to do so."

A lie, but one that seemed reasonable enough. The fact it would also put him in a place to be sure the scout died first was pure coincidence, or so he wanted it to seem. For everyone's sake, he hoped he was just being overly suspicious and was indeed wrong about the man.

Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

Neat.

Just have this image of Mercy tangling with the Wild King and then-

Oh no! From the ropes it's Mercy-Val with a building!

*Cue Wrestling theme*

Or Pacific Rim music. Both would work.

FORGOTTEN REALMS - Gambit of Scoundrels

Leon grinned beneath his now blood splattered mask, flourishing his longsword in a complex twist to send the remainder of blood along the blade flying into the snow. Taking a moment to survey the situation, he noted the survivors of the marauding band were down to less than a handful. Somewhere in the distance, Kanos had claimed another kill for his own and had begun to stalk back towards his master. Three of the remaining brigands were facing off with a line of defenders, rallied by the turn in fortune.

He unslung his shield from his back, switching the longsword to a one handed grip and laying the blade along the top of his shield as he joined the line of defenders. As the defenders surged forward, blades flashed and Leon used his own shield to deflect a diagonal slash aimed at a defender skull next to him. Sliding his sword up along the shield, he carried his opponent's weapon high and created an opening for the man next to him to run the enemy through with a solid thrust to the heart.

Concentrating on a flanking enemy left him partially open to assault from the brigand he was directly facing, earning a pair of shallow cuts to his leg and arm. He relished the pain, using it to focus his wrath as he whipped around with the back edge of his blade, smashing his enemy's sword towards the ground and smashing his shield into the man's face. As the man crumpled, he followed through with another flourish, stabbing downwards and silencing the man forever.

The last brigand's morale broke when he saw his closest allies fall, the defending mercenaries barely taking wounds in exchange. Outnumbered, outarmed, and out of other options he broke away and ran for his life, his weapon dropping from his grasp.

"Quickly, after the runner!," one of the survivors shouted, starting to stomp off after the man that had been frightened by Leon's spell.

A howl, followed by a blood curdling scream of pain and fear sounded out in answer.

"No need, Kanos found him," Leon said, a dark chuckle slipping through the mask as a bloody mouthed Kanos came running back. Leon reached out and scratched the shadow wolf behind the ears, a disturbingly happy noise coming from it's snout before it began to fall into Leon's own shadow, the magic that summoned it weakening and running out of time, "we need to see to the wounded. I have some power left to heal wounds, but we should save it for the worst cases that are still alive."

As he said this, he was already reaching into a pack on his belt, taking several cloth strips and stuffing them into the armor to staunch the bleeding from his own wounds. The pain would serve as his punishment, he would be faster next time, or fight smarter.

FORGOTTEN REALMS - Gambit of Scoundrels

“Invisibility, they’re using invisibility magic!”

Leon's hand shot down to his mask, pressing it up to his face and pulling up the hood of his undershirt to clasp it into place. He drew his longsword and held it one handed for the moment, peering through the mask's eye holes as he surveyed the ambush. It wasn't going well at all, but few ambushes rarely started in the defender's favor. His gaze slid over the downed bowman, noting the same scurrying marks Iliskra had seen. If this was to be a game of hide and seek, this ambusher had chosen the wrong opponent.

Leon prayed briefly, calming his adrenaline accelerated heart and trying to tune out the noise of the ambush around him as he sought his divine connection. To others, it might look as though he were standing still like a fool, but his defenses were still in place as he turned the flat of his sword to deflect the lined up shot of another crossbowman.

Mask, there is a rat here that hides by bending light. Let me show him why the shadows are stronger, he prayed, feeling the divine power pulsing from his mask and shaping it with his will. His shadow pulsed, suddenly seeming to enlarge as it subtly grew into a circle on the ground around him. Leon knew that, even if they were invisible, any competent ambusher would still launch their attack from behind and so he moved forward, the shadows sliding along the ground along with him as he put his back to the side of the wagon, yet left more than enough space for an attacker to slip into the space as he pretended to prod the air in front of him with his sword.

The slight gasp of surprise was like a warning bell as Leon turned and swung hard with the blade. His spell had worked exactly as he had intended, the shadows from the ground latching onto the feet of the invisible halfling and pouring upwards along his entire body like someone had spilled ink over the invisible man. Leon could see him perfectly, and though the halfling managed to duck the first swing, he had nowhere to escape pinned between Leon and the wagon. Leon's larger weapon and size gave him far too much of an advantage over an opportunistic killer like the halfling, and the still bloody dagger was sent spiraling through the air along with the hand that held it... followed soon after by the man's head.

The shadows still writhing beneath him, Leon began to hunt for any other invisible killers in their midst. As he did so he reached once more for the power of his god, summoning an old friend that would hunt alongside him. The shadows writhed once more, deepening into a pit that seemed to go to the plane of shadows itself. Rising from the darkness came a vicious wolf with blood red eyes, it's fur as dark as the shadows that summoned it and it's fangs dripping with saliva.

"Kanos, be a dear and show these fools what it means to hunt prey," he muttered, and the wolf bounded off towards the engaged fighters, its teeth and claws ripping into the line of bandits and offering distraction for any fighters that could take advantage of it.

Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

@rabidbacon

Take your pick.

Val's childhood would have made Lord of the Flies look polite be comparison. Just keep details within the Guild guidelines for public content.

Hider for those who might have triggers. Violence, drugs, and Prostitution

Particularly painful memories:
The last memory he has of his mother is her drugged out of her mind to where she mistook him for a client.
Being sold to a bounty hunter as a boy by the owner of the Bordello he grew up in.
His first kill, a lowlife criminal that deserved it, but he was 14 and was beaten within an inch of his life for failing to take the shot the first time.
Falling into a one sided love with a woman that was marked for death, only to have to kill her with his knife when she took his gun after he had made the mistake of falling asleep near her.

Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

@rabidbacon feel free to mess about with Val's memories or anything else Mercy would feed on. Lots to feed on bumbling around in that skull.

Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

“We don't know your name, friend. I'm VV, and this is A.”

"Val, or Valentino if you're feeling fancy," Val said as he began to set up the camp, laying out what precious few supplies he had available and what had been taken from the fallen soldiers. His rifle lay propped against a nearby cement column, but his AR pistol and knife were still within easy reach. After all, they were allies of circumstance and weather as far as he knew, and both could change in an instant when life and death were involved.

“We, uhm, we're actually on a mission. We've been tasked with killing the Wild King.”

Val laughed loudly and gave a look at the red eyed woman like she had just told the funniest joke in the world. Kill the Wild Kin? Dust, they'd barely survived the bears and that was with a Wild actively on their side. The image of that molten beast charging into the fray reminded Val to cast a look in the Wild's direction, remembering the strange words the creature had spoken in the heat of blood and battle.

“I know this might be a lot to ask, but we know nothing of this world. It would… Well, it would be a mighty help if you guided us to where the King resides. We can take it from there.”

"Oh. You're serious... or at least you think you are," Val said, reaching into a pack and pulling out some hard jerky and taking a rather large bite. He felt hungry... downright ravenous actually. The feeling was strange considering he hardly ever missed a meal unless he had to stake out a spot for a few weeks, but something within him felt different.

"You will feed me. In exchange, you will have my strength. So you can feed me more.", the words came unbidden, but with perfect recall to Val's mind. The words of a monster. Of a Titan. Of a Wild.

He listened to VV talk to A about their situation, though the idea of their hearts being modified somehow escaped his thoughts. He kept glancing over at Mercy as though trying to figure out if the Wild had somehow infected him with something. It was a disturbing thought, but he just didn't know enough about the creatures beyond that their hearts sold well and their powers were... strange. There might be something to what VV thought about their hearts being altered, but it seemed impossible to Val to survive something like that. After all, to a duster like him heart surgery alone sounded like a myth, but the possibility of infusing Wild Hearts?

“We need fire power. You fought those men so easily… Would you do it again for us? There would be more bodies to eat, I'm sure.”

Val chewed his jerky as though it could help him think. From the sounds of it, these two definitely needed help. Taking on the Wild King was suicidal, after all, if even the Bears, Ghosts and Umbra couldn't do it... how were two women who fell from the sky supposed to succeed where they had failed. Dust, Vinny had nearly killed all of them!

He should leave when the storm broke. Take his gear, thank the lovely ladies for sharing his little hideaway space, wish them luck and hit the road in the exact opposite direction. He had never been much of a team player, too many people to split the shares with. Too many people to mourn when they caught a bullet or the dust caught them...

"Dust me...," he muttered, getting to his feet and brushing off the bit of the storm that had managed to worm its way inside. He walked up towards where VV was speaking with Mercy, his eyes on the massive Wild, but stopping to stand next to VV herself.

"Of course he'll help," he said, locking his gaze onto Mercy's eye, "won't you big guy? You'll have to... if I go with them and take you up on your offer. Strength for Food. Power for Death."

He held out his hand as though he were going to somehow shake the creature's massive paw, which would likely result in him being reduced to the red smear he had mentioned before the storm came in, but it was an amusing gesture.

"I've killed a lot of men and women in my time here in the Dust. You want the leftovers, you're welcome to them if it means you'll show me why I would be wise to ally with someone like you," he said.

After Mercy's response and whatever events might unfold because of the bargain, he would turn towards VV and offer a sly smile.

"I don't know much about the foresty areas, but I can get you close enough that tracking down the King should be possible. Only thing you might want to keep in mind is I always call my markers in due time, and this is a big marker. For now, maybe you can tell me a bit more about what the Dust is going on with you two," he said lightly, "oh, and if I die on this little trip. Your asses are haunted. Just a disclosure."

FORGOTTEN REALMS - Gambit of Scoundrels

Leon kept moving through the cold air of the dale, his boots crunching through the slush and the frost tinging his hair. He drew his cloak closer around himself, instinctively changing his position in the caravan twice an hour. Not only did this allow him to monitor some of the other agents, but it allowed him to strike up half a dozen conversations and make some interesting contacts along the way. He had yet to speak with the elf-blooded woman from the previous night, but if his augury was correct, that situation would sort itself out in time.

He just hoped they would both still be alive to see it. His augury had also predicted danger from the hidden places of the trail on their journey, though he lacked the deeper understandings of Maskarran ritual to read more information from his god. When they came upon the patrol he considered the idea of traitors in their midst, but that made too much sense if anything. No, the danger would come from somewhere else. And so he dedicated himself to keeping aware of his surroundings. If the herd was to be thinned, he would see to it that he was among the survivors.

The whispers he spread were of danger, every conversation an opportunity to make people just a bit more nervous of the shadows around them, to remind them of what they had to lose if they didn't pay attention. It didn't make him a popular man around the wagon, but popularity can always be fixed if he decided it was of use to him. After all, nearly everyone here was motivated by greed so spreading around some coin and pleasant whispers would see him back into their good graces.

As the day wound on, Izaac fell into pace with the wagon driver. The supplies in the wagon were the priority in the caravan, second only to his own life and perhaps a few of the more useful mercenaries here. He tried once more to reach out for Mask, but out in the open like this, the connection to the shadows of his god's realm was weaker. Still he did his best to keep watch, one hand resting on his mask to call upon Mask's power should it become necessary.