Herald

Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

I'll post after Sporko

FORGOTTEN REALMS - Gambit of Scoundrels

Leon growled as Iliskra called out. He was anxious to leave the pair of strangers, but Iliskra was a known fighter and ally. Which made her worth more to him than both of these strangers combined. "Time's running out," he said, slipping a Cure Serious Wounds potion free from his belt and placing it on the ground. "Trust us or don't. Looks like we're killing them either way as a freebie."

He dashed forward, raising his shield high and reaching out for his divine connection once again. He was expending more power than the would have liked, but the three of them were still learning to fight alongside each other. He dropped low as he passed by the half-orc and dwarf engaging in a whirl of steel, an axe glancing off of his shield. He reached out and touched the dwarf's boot, the shadows from the alleyway curling up the dwarf's form and writhing to ward off attacks and enhance his defense.

Slipping past the fighting duo, Leon unsheathed his longsword and muttered another prayer. Swirling from the shadows beside Iliskra, a copy of his longsword forged from the Iliskra's shadow slid out of the wall, deflecting a sword strike aimed at her neck. The blade whipped around, striking the shield side of the thug hard and bashing him away from Iliskra to buy her time to recover. Leon fell on the other thug with a whirl of his own sword and shield, pressing the attack hard to prevent anyone from striking at the half-elf. A slice across his shoulder was punishment for his aggression.

He continued to will his shadow sword to strike at Iliskra's target, his shield smashing into the thug hard and then scything down with his longsword to cut deeply into the man's foot and shatter his ankle. His shadow blade pressed it's attack, and finally the thug figured out he had to strike down the caster to end it's assault. A slice across Leon's sword arm created another line of red between his hardened leather plates. Leon let his shadow sword sink back into the shadows, deceiving the man into believing the sword had been dispelled.

The thug called out to his companion and together they smashed their swords down onto Leon who caught the blades on his shield and went down to one knee. Before the thugs could take advantage though, the shadow blade spun and arced through both of the man's necks, sending sprays of arterial blood into the air as they both dropped their weapons and clutched at their ruined throats.

Panting hard and bleeding, Leon turned to look at Iliskra with a smile from beneath his mask. "You gave me just the opening I needed. See if you can help Ibdur, can't let him have all the fun."

FORGOTTEN REALMS - Gambit of Scoundrels

Leon's mind raced, caught between a half-orc bruiser and his prey was not a wise place to be. Despite that, the conversation had already confirmed enough to make it clear that he couldn't afford to let the half-orc just start killing people. He sighed heavily and turned towards the newcomers.

"Alright, that's quite enough... why is it that so many thugs are so foolish," he said, rolling his eyes and starting to reach out for divine power. Subtly, the magic began to thread itself into his words.

"Ten seconds I've known you and I already count five mistakes you've made which are going to cost you and your minions there their lives," he continued, trusting the Iliskra could hear him and would take appropriate advantage. Though it was subtle, almost imperceptible unless you were looking directly at them, Leon's shadow wavered and began to reach out and touch each of the enemy's shadows in turn. His body language changed, the motions more dramatic, the irritation and frustration in his tone reaching deeper as everything but him seemed to become blurred in the eyes of the thugs.

"No, I'm serious. This is embarrassing," Leon continued, "I mean, first of all you just assume we're on their side when the lady clearly doesn't want or seem to appreciate a sense of helping hand."

"Second, you then verbally declare that you're going to kill all of us, regardless of our allegiances. I mean, even a child could figure out that if you waited until after you killed these two, maybe... just maybe, I would have stayed out of the fight and then you could fight us separately and at least you would know how your friends are after finishing off this pair."

"Third. Who the hell announces themselves before they strike anyways? I mean, that's just sloppy murder work, even your buddies there know that. I haven't heard a peep out of them, but you. No, I gotta hear your whole belly-ache with this elfblood. Hells, for all you know I could be some kind of Red fucking Wizard or Corellon himself come to smite your Gruumsh-fucked face."

"Fourth. Did you even notice my armed and armored dwarf friend here? Because let me tell you, he has been spoiling for a fight and you look like just the meathead to work out some aggression on as a warmup to a real battle. Then again cosmetic surgery by dwarf axe might be an improvement for you."

"And finally, number five," Leon said, holding up his hand and waggling his fingers, "never let a spellcaster talk this long. You never know when he's got more than just shadows for friends. Thank you for coming to my talk. Now kindly keep those throats nice and exposed for my friend."

With that Leo would fall back, unbuckling his shield from his back and moving to cover the pair of strangers. Already he was tapping into more of his divine power, hissing a whisper behind him.

"Do you believe me now?," Leon said, "because the offer's still open. I help heal your friend."

FORGOTTEN REALMS - Gambit of Scoundrels

“We follow them then?”

Leon considered the information he had for a slim moment, knowing time would be of the essence no matter what choice they made. Two targets, humanoid. No obvious weapons, meaning likely hidden daggers and maybe a crossbow each or possible spellcasters. They were clearly more worried about what was behind them than what was around them or they would have seen the trio crouching among the shadows of the wall.

Scenario 1. They are fleeing a greater danger, meaning the trio's position was about to become compromised anyways by whatever was possibly following them and Leon was not about to fight something that someone else was already fleeing without knowing more. The trio could easily catch up to the pair, and perhaps an offer of help in exchange for information would at least earn them a favor with whoever they were.

Scenario 2. They are bait for a trap, meant to lead the trio or others like them into a kill box. Kill them all, and take their stuff. Risky business, and crude, but still presents a way for them to gain information. If they are Talons, they might welcome some help. If they aren't... well... then they would see whom the shadows really favored.

"I did say follow the rats," he muttered, looking towards Iliskra, "I'll take Ibdur with me in the open. Keep an eye out for trouble?" He offered her a wink through the mask, then gestured with a nod toward Ibdur that it was time to move.

They caught up to the pair as quickly as Leon thought, though the priest thought it very strange that they had seemingly turned down a dead end alley. Were they so desperate they lost their way? Or did the city have a few more secrets than it was willing to share with the strangers.

Leon purposefully kicked a rock into a nearby wall, drawing attention from the pair as they got close enough to have a conversation. The smaller figure, a female human immediately pulled a knife and held it in a fighting grip towards the masked man and his heavily armed and armored dwarven companion. Now that the pair had turned to face them, Leon could see that the larger figure was a half elf male, and was leaking a lot of blood from places that shouldn't be leaking.

Leon held out his hands in a calming manner, showing he was holding no weapons and stepping in front of Ibdur to discourage the dwarf from seeking his battle glory on a pair of what he hoped were misguided sources of information.

"Easy. No need for steel, right?," Leon called out in common, "Name's 'Leo'. I'm a priest. I can help your friend there. For a price, of course. Tut, tut, don't jump to conclusions. My price is simply answers to five questions."

"I'm looking for a cousin of mine that their last letter said they were here in the city. Just a name, maybe a description, and I'll be more than happy to do my best to make sure your friend there sees another dawn," Leon said, the first part a very deceptive lie, but one that would allow them to ask after the Talons and see if the pair had any reaction or was willing to admit they knew of them, "I know what you're thinking, if you turn me down and demand we leave, we will leave you in peace... but your friend there doesn't look good. He might not make it to wherever it is you're going, especially if whatever did that to him catches up..."

He took a tentative step forward, watching the woman's body language for signs of an attack. "Decide quickly though. Please."

FORGOTTEN REALMS - Gambit of Scoundrels

“Tis likely that they were rival gangs or mercenaries on opposite sides of a conflict.”

Leon nodded along, his mask hiding the grimace on his face. Recent conflict meant that even now the lines between factions were shifting. He prodded a body with his boot, checking it's wounds with his eyes to see how recently the man had died. Fortunately it seemed to have been at least a few days, the body swollen and broken. It had been picked clean of valuables, even a few rings removed along with the fingers that held them by his guess. Survivors. Looters. But ones that had moved along a long time ago.

"Throw good men and women into the pyre to save a place closer to hell than any decent person ought to experience," he said, irritated at the waste. What was here that could possibly be of such value? The rights to a burnt out city?

"Rat's nest is generous," he added after Ibdur's comment, "I doubt even the rats choose to live here among the rot and the dead. Small wonder the Red Wizards have taken an interest..."

“According to Breck this is the thieves’ guild territory. Where would you say we should start in this hellshole?”

Turning his mind back to the task at hand, Leon looked at the nearby buildings and tried to reach out for guidance for his god. Thieves' were always welcomed into the shadows, and in exchange for that protection the secrets of their passings could be made known to those who knew where to look and how to read them.

"Breck said the Guild was on the downslope of it's power, but has been in the city since before the plague. They'll have dug in deep, and probably exhausted all but the sturdiest and most hidden of the safehouses," Leon said, looking down the street, "but like all mortals, they'll need access to clean water, food, and an ability to traverse the streets if they are still actively pursuing guild activities."

"The buildings will have been searched and looted one by one years ago, and if they were holding on to any Breck would know about it from the surrounding factions laying siege," he continued, closing his eyes and reaching out to his god, "the good news is, we should start seeing guild marks when we get close if they still call themselves a guild, probably disguised as graffiti or gang markings. If I had to pick a place to start, I'd say we follow the one other living thing that seems to have survived this city falling into chaos and madness. Follow the rats and hope the smell doesn't stick too harshly to our boots."

As he spoke his face was turned towards a collapsed part of the street, the bricks having loosened from disrepair and collapsed into the sewers that ran beneath the city.

"Of course the other option is we run around like tourists and eventually the Talons will find us. most likely to try to rob us... but a conversation is a conversation," he said, looking at Ibdur as though expecting this option would delight the dwarf far more than him or Iliskra, "I could attempt to use some of my gifts, but I suspect they will have warded their domain against such measures, especially with Shagarm on the prowl."

FORGOTTEN REALMS - Gambit of Scoundrels

Perhaps so weak we may even be able to pick what remains of them apart ourselves.

"That does seem to be the implication from Breck," Leon agreed. However, he had long ago learned that the intelligence gathered on an enemy rarely lasted through the hour in which it was gathered. He had no reason to suspect the Talons had made any overt moves against their competitors, but fortunes changed hands like coin purses in the shadows and until someone admitted that the Talons were on the verge of collapse, he was inclined to believe they still had enough blades to finish off three overly curious interlopers. It was fortunate that they were being allowed to approach in their own way. Iliskra's skills would make her irreplaceable when it came to recognizing their marks and traps.

Leon's eyes shifted over to the dwarf as he approached, though he made no move for his weapons. His instincts were sharpened much in the way Iliskra's had been, but he was used to presenting himself as a non-threat, then surprising an opponent later on rather than diving straight into combat against an unknown foe.

Twin axes. Durable armor. Tempus's name on his lips and in his heart from his words.

His training on Tempus flooded his mind, books and lessons in the temple strictly outlining common practices of the god of chaos in war. Infiltrating the War God's own was a more direct task than the Maskarrans usually felt necessary, but in these times, every god should keep a close eye on their shadows.

"Welcome, Hammer-Arahar," Leon dipped his head in a gesture of respect, though it was an empty one. From what he had been taught, Tempus's chosen cared little for anything beyond two very simple subjects: Where is the fight, and how do they get there. He cast a look towards Iliskra, at least they both knew now who was likely to die first. An excitable fighter with heavy armor did little for stealth operations... but with a little bit of preparation he could be a very large and very unexpected knife to the vitals of an enemy.

He chose not to disclose that he was a cleric to Ibdur, though if the dwarf had more than a few brain cells to rub together the presence of his mask and the runes along it's edge would reveal it as a holy symbol.

"You are welcome to what glory you may find," Leon said, tilting his head to the side at the dwarf, "though I suspect you may have a while to wait. We'll need to establish if the Talons are worth rescuing from their current state before we start making moves against the other factions in preparation for Breck's forces. Though with foes like the Red Wizards and this... Shagarm person, there will be glory aplenty. We just need to live long enough to see it."

They heard the ferry man long before they saw him, the man singing a loud song about some kind of encounter between a bear and a maiden that was probably a local favorite. Leon looked on carefully as the man's raft approached, noting no signs of unusual construction or places where a trap might be hidden. The man himself was ordinary enough, an overweight human thick arms from poling the raft up the river.

A brief negotiation settled on a small handful of coins passing from Leon to the man, as well as a second handful and a quiet, but very thorough threat of what would happen to the man if he made the mistake of telling the story of the day he transported three strangers on his raft from one side of the river to the other. Were it not for the presence of the dwarf, he might have just cut the man's throat and dumped him into the river. Small secrets always had a way of undoing major plans.

The trio seemed to reach an agreement of sorts not to talk on their way along the river. There was little need to and giving the boatman more information would just end up reversing Leon's decision to leave the man alive in any case. Of course, his mask hid any such thoughts from the boatman, even if his body language showed a man that was ready to spring into action, specifically in the direction of the boatman at a moment's notice.

The boatman tried to make idle conversation with them, but Leon intercepted as many of the questions as he could, telling outright lies when it suited him and obscuring truth when that was more effective.

FORGOTTEN REALMS - Gambit of Scoundrels

Leon tilted his head to the side as Iliskra approached. "Normally, you would be quite right. Only a fool stands out in the open in unclaimed ground... but someone had to do it or else the three of us may very well have skulked the entire way to the town. Not exactly efficient use of a team so it seemed a worthwhile trade to endanger myself for fifteen minutes if it meant we could all have a chat," he admitted, then introduced himself, "Leon. Amateur swordsman and humble man of the faith." He deliberately did not mention which particular faith, that was part of the game Maskarrans played with others. If you knew of Mask, it was easy enough to guess his priest's or priestess's allegiance. If you didn't... well that was just more fun for the Maskarran.

"I would have wagered a good deal of coin that the dwarf would have revealed themselves long before you though. Our last conversation was far from... endearing," he said, chuckling and turning his head to the side to show the part of his neck she had flicked, "do you suppose they are here and watching us or elsewhere and simply not fond of arriving before they absolutely have to?"

Leon took a moment to scan the shadows, his inner clock telling him that the ferry man was supposed to arrive any minute based on Breck's timetable.

"I do not know if you have ever worked with a priest before, but I will keep my talents brief. I can heal wounds of course, but I'm a much bigger fan of ensuring we are not targeted in the first place or that everything is a bit too dead to hurt us in turn," he said, "I'm also a talented liar, story spinner, and entertainer of sorts. Unlike most priests, I don't give a damn who you are or how you do what you do, as long as it doesn't kill me. I'll try to keep from getting you killed in turn."

"Any thoughts on our soon to be partners in crime?," he asked, referring to the Talons.

FORGOTTEN REALMS - Gambit of Scoundrels

Leon listened to Breck outline the general plan, ignoring his glares. He was sure he was violating some kind of protocol, speaking out of turn like that, but Lord Hastlon had not required an ability to be polite or follow military etiquette as part of his request for aid. Besides, needling someone was usually the best way to see their true nature, and Breck seemed to be exactly what he seemed. A thug in shiny armor, but one smart enough to understand how to coordinate other thugs and get results. A man worth keeping in one's service.

He wondered if volunteering for a particular assignment would get him anywhere, but Breck seemed like the type to have already scribbled up a plan and would die before anyone else changed it. Again, not a bad trait to have in a sergeant or lieutenant of one's private military. It was a shame that Leon had already decided that staying near him or the city guard was the least likely route to getting anything worthwhile done in the city.

Leon muttered a prayer of thanks to Mask when Breck mentioned that their assignments would be decided now. Solo work or in a team, he didn't care as long as it took him away from this camp. Safety was the enemy of foresight. It dulled the senses and made you second guess what your instincts screamed at you. One by one the hirelings moved forward, receiving a sealed letter with from one of a few stacks as they approached Breck. Leon took his with a half-smile, which likely irritated Breck, but chose to say nothing as he walked away and opened the letter.

The instructions inside were to meet the remainder of the 'team' at the bank of a river directly south of the encampment in one hour. Once the hour elapsed, they were to pay a ferryman to take them across to the south side of the bank and enter the city from there to make contact with the Talons, the established thieves guild. From there, the orders became very vague, citing that they should 'establish if such an organization can be of use in liberating Scardale and act appropriately to bring them into the fold or disrupt their operations for the eventual campaign for the south side of the city'. Leon chuckled as he read it. He liked simple plans. It meant there was room for him to work his own magic into the mix. He returned to the tent, packing up his belongings and slinging the backpack over his shoulder as he headed south to the river bank.

He arrived fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. At first, he was tempted to hide in the shadows of the trees and watch the gathering point, but he knew it would be likely that other shadowy individuals had been selected for this 'team'. Someone would have to go out into the open in order to stick their neck out first and gather the others. It may as well be him.

Leon donned his mask, moving to a spot on the riverbank where the reeds had been frequently crushed. A clear sign that a boat or raft of some kind stopped here often. He looked out over the river, it's deceptively calm surface hiding a rush of water below that would shove any careless man into a series of rapids further downstream that would leave him a broken and bloody mess. He set his pack down, rolling his shoulders and adjusting his longsword and shield to an easier draw position in case of trouble.

When the rest of the team arrived, he would introduce himself by his first name and offer that he had some command of magic and was a fair hand with a longsword and shield, underplaying the talents he had displayed in the ambush.

Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

Co op post is up.

@rabidbacon Val's personality is fighting against instincts he's absorbed from Mercy for the post, so those thoughts/actions aren't directed towards Mercy unless you want them to be.

@Estylwen Post is of course, pending your approval since this is a first time shapeshift. Let me know if we need a rewrite

Umbra: The Abyssal Connection

((Co-op post with @SporkoBug Also posted from my phone so any format issues are my bad.))

Val woke from the sounds of someone stepping into his tent, a lifetime of murderous fighting instinct keeping him still and his breathing even as the soldier nudged his boot. Clumsy... but from a distraction, he though, his eyes opening just a few hairs for him to examine a bit of the situation. Whatever this man was, he wasn't human, not entirely anymore based on the small, antler like protrusions on the sides of his head.

Mercy... buddy, if you can hear me. Pretty sure we're in a mess here.

"We mean you no harm." The Wendigo spoke calmly, a strange tone lingering over the words, "We need you to come with us. I know you're of Wild Blood, the Ghost Corp needs to look you over. Come calmly and quietly and I won't have to do anything dangerous."

Val's mind whirled. Ghost Corps. Rifle approximately five feet from chest, aim is calm, finger is on the trigger. They must want him alive, or there would be two holes in his chest already. Reference to Wild Blood probably means whatever the dust Mercy had done to him. Make him talk. Talking people weren't thinking about shooting. There would be a split second-

Rage. Murder. Blood.

As Val dipped into his subconscious to form an emergency plan, he unintentionally found the scars Mercy had left on his psyche. Red hot chains that seared into his mind and narrowed it down to a singular focus. With the connection being so new and raw, he had no real defense to it, no ability to quarantine Mercy's influence away from his actions. Like the most voracious of poisons, the raw emotion and motivations of the Wild overpowered Val's human brain and suddenly there was only one command. One need.

Feed. Feed Mercy.

Val's eyes snapped open, murderous intent clear as the normally blue orbs shifted to red. It was the only warning Wren got before the man whipped his legs up, one slamming into the side of his knee and the other kicking hard at the grip of the gun. The AE rifle went off, burning a hole in the tent next to Val's head but it only served to fuel this new rage. Both feet pulled back and then shot forward again, throwing every ounce of power Val could muster from the ground into Wren's chest to shove him back out of the tent.

Wren let out a yelp being hit in the leg, stumbling backwards after the gun went off into Vals' tent. He moved the gun to his side for a moment before he was about to speak before Val pushed his entire weight into his chest through his feet and almost threw him out of the tent.

If Val had been in his right mind, he would have grabbed his knife and pistol, cut open the back of the tent, and escaped out the back while his foes either wasted ammunition trying to kill him inside the tent or tried to enter it again. But he was far from his right mind and the changes were beginning to show in more than just his eyes.

He roared. Not yelled. Not shouted a battle cry. No, what came from his throat was like a primordial beast that had been shaken from a good nap and now had to deal with the waking world.

His flesh blackened, hardening into armored plates as he swelled in size. The tent was destroyed, ripping apart across the rapidly growing frame of the new creature that was Val was becoming. It was painful, the human side of Val's brain wracked with pain he hadn't felt since Mercy had first dug it's chains into him. Inwardly, locked inside the head of this new monster, he screamed and tried to rally his willpower to shatter the chains his new form had built around his consciousness. His body grew to eight feet.

"I will be Merci-ful..," the voice coming from this creature was deeper, far more beast like than it's original owner could even hope to imitate, the word merciful coming out more like the twinned words Mercy and Val, "...and devour you first, Bloodling."

Eleven feet. Val's new form was pressing against the ceiling, and already cracks in the concrete from the intense pressure were beginning to show. This building had been out of repair since long before Val and his companions had arrived, and it certainly was not build for a monster being born inside of it.

AE rounds burned away part of his new form, slicing through Val's body with the ease for which the rifles had been designed. He moved out of instinct, but his instincts were used to a much smaller body as he swiped wide at Wren with a clawed hand and then reached for a knife that was not part of his transformation.

Wren had been slammed into a column, letting out a loud groan as the Wendigo side of him rumbled angrily. "New bond, the first transformation always hurts the most." The Wendigo hissed, moving to shuffle out of the way of a few pieces of concrete. "Too dangerous to change here, too dangerous to change." It rumbled, Wren instinctively nodding.[/b]

At fourteen feet, the ceiling gave way under the pressure. Concrete rained down around Val, bouncing harmlessly off of his new armor plating, but inwardly he looked on horrified as the concrete continued to splinter and crack over A's and VV's tents.

No! We kill only who I say we kill!, his mind rallied, and he turned the fury that his new form was feeding on against the very chains that bound his higher consciousness. The animal part of his mind broke under this concerted effort, and the eyes of his new form briefly shaded back to blue as it turned it's attention back towards the tents where everyone else had been sleeping.

Eighteen feet. Even crouching now wasn't helping to avoid damaging the ceiling, and person sized chunks of concrete began to fall.

"Mimi!" Wren called out, unsure if the dinosaur-shaped wild was still around. Mimi gave a canine-like bark from the third tent, away from everyone else. "Stay safe!" Wren called out before he looked back to Val and pulled his run out at the ready, just in case. He didn't want to fire at him, no injuries. This was supposed to be peaceful.

Val growled in frustration and pain, his arms swiping forward to knock the falling chunks aside and he left an arm in place over their heads to prevent the worst of the debris from crushing anyone.

There was a brief moment of respite as the building shifted slightly, then stabilized once more as Val stopped growing. And then, like a massive breath had been released from his lungs, quickly dissipating smoke poured from the cracks in his armor as his body shrunk back down to human size. The building creaked once more as the support Val's body had been providing caused it to shift ever so slightly, but it seemed the worst of what he had caused was over.

The armor melting off of his skin, leaving burn marks where the AE rifles had struck and his whole body a few shades redder and running like he had just come off the worst fever in the world, Val went down to one knee in exhaustion. Holding up his hands, he breathed deeply as he turned back towards Wren.

"Alright... we'll call it a draw," he said, a stupid grin on his face as though he hadn't been the cause of most of the danger to his own companions.

"Ferz." Wren said, glancing behind him slightly as if looking to his own Wild spirit. The Wendigo rolled its eyes quickly, using its' ability to twist and pull vines from the ground to attempt to hold up the building in case Val and Mercy's body change broke anything too integral to the structures.

While his wild was doing everything, Wren seemed to be wincing in pain. His veins glimmered a deep, swampy green, before he seemed exhausted after everything had happened. Once he recovered, Wren shook his head, his antlers disappearing from his head before he looked down to Val, moving to put his gun off to his side and offered a hand to Val to help him up.

"You think you can walk?" He asked with a tilt of his head, "If not I'm sure Mimi could probably carry you." He hesitated before he looked towards where the call from Mimi came from, "Wherever they are."

Val nodded, struggling to his feet and doing his best to pretend like he hadn't just been rolled through hot lava and buried in an avalanche. "Gonna have to, not fond of being left behind," he muttered, coughing up a bit of blood.