Kadaeux — Roleplayer Guild

Amazonia Imperiia; Kraith

Kraith didn't pause in his observations instead continuing going about looking like he knew what he was doing and it was best not to interrupt it, instead he was looking for anything dead, rodents, chickens, lost circus midgets on tour. And yet try as he might he couldn't locate enough materials to animate and send in as a little spy, not even the midden heap showed any signs of bones to pick through, not that Kraith was going to dive in and look too hard. For one it'd be suspicious, for two, it'd be gross. Now he headed back towards the Queen tent pondering his options. There were many. And many stupid ones too.

Just walk in.
Try and seduce the guards.
Pretend he was a clown.
Disguise himself as a beard.

Come to think of it, truly terrible plans required far too much effort to truly come up with. But Kraith came up with the simpler solution. He made his way back towards Traxilus. "Try not to get me caught. But i'm going to be unresponsive for a bit." Kraith sat back and leaned against a log laying down and shuffling his hat half over his face as if sleeping. And with that he left his body, time to hitch a ride in the servants, and see what he sees.

Sarkansa City; Imperial Palace; Throneroom

The Imperator, Sarkasian Wolfjaw saw upon the thone in his natural form, to most he'd appear to be human. But anyone with extended contact with Lycanthropes could see that he maintained more hair than most humans, his posture was that of a predator ready to pounce at a moments notice and his clothing seemed designed to fit loosely in places, the Lycanthropes, long since past the age of persecution finally had tailors willing to design clothing suited to them to prevent the embarrassment of finding themselves naked after the change.

Instead, he found himself listening to a detailed breakdown of all the possible misfortunes that could possibly effect a single lowly merchant. The tirade of dullness seemed to be entirely relentless and Sarkasian began to wonder if his jaws clamped around the Orc Merchant's throat could stop him when it finally ended. "And so my Imperator. I've come to beg for five hundred sarks to cover my multitudinous losses, a fair request for recompense my lord."

That was the straw that broke the ogres back, the whole court goggled at the daring of the idiot. Some even uttered a good laugh at the mans expense. But the look on the Imperator's face was not one that bespoke of this petty mans gall as an amusing thing. The temperature of the vast stone throne-room seemed to drop in the mans icy stare. When Sarkasian shifted into his were-form the full import of his error reached the merchants own survival instincts and whispered 'you dun fucked up' to him.

"You spin us a tale of woe and misfortune about how bad weather ruined your trade goods. How bandits made off with what wasn't ruined. How your wife sleeping with your son, the son your mistress bore you, is somehow the fault of the state. And that's just the summary." Sarkasian strode down the steps to face the man. "You have come here to extort gold from the government based on some percieved debt owed to you by your citizenship. Is that right?" The words were laden with venom.

The High Orc flustered trying to loosen the shirt that suddenly felt too tight at the collar. "Ah, well, that's not how i'd have put it,.."

"Is it not?" Sarkasian snapped. "You are guilty of attempted extortion of the Unified Government of Sarkor. I pronounce a sentence of ten years hard labour on the rail lines. Should you prove 'unsuited' to such work, a space can be made for you in the salt mines."

The High Orc collapsed to his knees and began to weep.

Alvalon; Murderbowl; Commentators Booth

"Welcome to the Murderbowl for another sunny day of Blood Bowl ladies and gentlemen." One of the Commentators. Einrik the Ravager, ex-Blitzer for a Lycanthrope team called the Sarkor Ravagers.

"Aye, should be another good and bloody day Einrik," the second commendator remarked, a High Orc named Jork Maddork, "today we have the Alvalon Gutbusters playing against the Rutarian Highlords. It's always fun to watch an all-dwarf team up against an all high-elf team."

"Indeed it is Jork, one loves to shoulder its way through all obstacles, the other likes to throw the ball a lot. You can never tell what's going to happen!" Einrik said. "But my money is on the Gutbusters, they've had a great season, and with the Aeyva Nightowl out with a case of mild death the Highlords don't have her leadership."

"Indeed Einrik, nobody expected Yanken to go full Lycan during that match, let alone a breeding frenzy. I don't think he'd even realised she was dead until he had spent himself." Jork pointed out. "Or at least I hope not, Yanken is a sick puppy at the best of times!"

The roar of the crowd signalled the teams coming down onto the field as the hedge-mages broadcast the commentary throughout the stadium.

Sixteen Coastborn Dwarves and Sixteen High Elves came onto the field, men were predominant though there were some women on both teams. The crowd went nuts, the Gutbusters and Highlords were two of the top seeded teams, though as the commentators had been so kind to point out, the Highlords had been forced to replace their star thrower after she was mated and killed by the rapid lycanthrope Yanken Hardball, star blitzer of the Lowborn Howlers.

As the coin toss began the High Elf team Captain, Blitzer Sheyn Ti, called out heads. Coming down as crowns the Gutbusters elected to receive the ball.

The lithe high elves kicked the ball with such fury that it nearly reached the dwarven endzone but managed to be caught by the man they had stationed there who tucked up and began his charge across the field, the long kick gave the High elves the expected time they wanted to put their plan into motion, but, unfortunately, the fists and boots of the other Gutbuster team-mates took the advantage back as the little fellow continued his run.

The crowd all flinched when Longarm Gutbreaker, a blocker of the Gutbusters punched the Highlords Star Blizter, Lewyin Longlegs in the crown jewels, the High elf dropping to the ground grasping his crotch and eyes boggling from beneath his helmet before Longarm booted the elf in the head and ran off looking for another elf. "Oooh, that's gotta sting, looks like Longarm is still aiming for that new 'cockpuncher of the year' title he promised he'd get this season." Einrick audibly winced.

"Indeed, and doesn't Longlegs look like he's feeling every inch of that ambition today. I don't think he'll be enjoying the company of any fans tonight, he's got a date with a bag of ice and tears." Jork remarked. The Gutbusters ran on for a touchdown and the crowd went nuts.

The Sunder; The High Tower;

Elliana prowled the tower-top as she studied the tome she held. It was mostly gibberish, written by idiots and imbeciles trying to catalogue the fall of the world and the Cataclysm, Elliania's father had seen some of the fall and it was beyond interesting. While he, and others who'd been alive at the time, could recall the Cataclysm perfectly, remember every detail any time they tried to speak of it, or scribe it down, the words were distorted and broken.

But this one had been in the hands of the Cult of the Natural Order. The owner of it was now bound with bands of shadow to a spike that protruded from the High Tower. He'd attempted to poison one of the primary wells of the Citadel but had been spotted by some off-duty Dwarves who'd half beaten him to death. Now Elliania looked at him. "An interesting tome you had." She remarked. "Some of the phrases are even not distorted, though they're meaningless on their own. Most curious."

"Doglicking bitch, you're not fit to read those words, you're not fit to breed with the beasts you consort with." The Cultist snarled, a High Elf born. Elliania didn't make any visible reaction.

"You'd be surprised how talented Orcs and Lycanthropes can be in that area." She remarked as a hand raised. Glowing with red energy. In response the runes she'd carved over his body began to glow and he began to scream. "Frigid cowards like you think that the missionary is the height of pleasure." The runes glowed brighter and he screamed louder. "But that doesn't tell me anything about how you came to be in control of such a tome." The red light faded and slowly the carved runes dulled back into acquiescent red. Ending pain too suddenly can rend a man as unconscious as applying too much too quickly. The body needs time to adjust to such radical changes. "And the poison, it can't have been easy to get that much hemlock and nightshade." She said plainly.

The Cultist looked fearful. "I won't say anything!" He decided was the right thing to say.

The reaction convinced him he had mis-chosen. The runes began to glow once more but worse... as he looked down he could see that his fingers and toes had begun to rot as if from frostbite. "I'm sure you don't mean that, I mean you never know what could possibly happen." The death in his fingers and hands began to creep inexorably. He suddenly realised that Elliania was really doing it. There was no illusion. She was using death magic to kill his extremities and start their decay.

"Please please no oh gods no not this!" He blabbered. "There is an town we have hidden in the blackheart woods, an apothecary there was growing it for this."

"Where." Elliania snapped. "Details or any kids you have would have to be undead." The poor bastard felt a tingling in his balls to accent the point.

"A league north of Rutaria!" He screamed.

"Ah, very good. Now that wasn't so hard was it." Elliania smiled. "Feed him to the Hydras. And keep it quiet." She said and her guards grabbed the babbling man.

The Orc that stepped up next to her next looked grim. "That's not good news." He said in a voice that rumbled like thunder.

"No." Elliania sat back against the cold stone. "I hated doing that. But it was necessary. So Axeborn, Wolfjaw has given you a free hand to deal with this what are you going to do?"

Krothog Axeborn sat down next to her. "What I must. I'm taking the Royal Wargs to flush them out, and asking for the Sky Lord to be there to provide air support. It'd be a great comfort if you could join us milady, we'll be moving too fast to take any Crossbowmen. I want this town flushed out and burned down before they realise their ploy here failed."

Elliania groaned. "Ok old friend, but you know I hate riding Wargs."

"Don't worry." He smiled. "I'm sure we can round up a horse for you."

Akeholm; Inn of the Broken Furniture; Common Room

General Toldan Gunderheist rolled awake with a snort that was half a sneeze and half a snore. The ground was sticky beneath his hands as he stood up and the common room of the inn.... well it was basically a total writeoff. "Right, I'm not coming back for next years Gutbuster contest." He resolved suddenly as he looked at the thirty or forty other unconscious people snoring away their drink.

Toldan gripped his head at the sound of a loud high pitched voice. "You won't come back to defend your title?!"

"I won?" Toldan said. "I don't remember anything past the second keg of that brew. So how do you." He accused.

"I'm not drinking that swill, i'd be dead before the week was out." The Lycan remarked as the Bartender awoke behind the bar. Standing up he surveyed the room.

"Oh fuck me." He said resignedly. It was bad enough that his Inns reputation was so black he'd renamed it after all the brawling that happened here and that his patronage alone kept a carpenter of cheap furniture in business, for nearly a decade now.

Toldan sat down on a particularly bulky, and unconscious orc, who burped in response and tried to roll over the skilled Dwarf General keeping himself on top. "Well, maybe I will then." He said. It must have been a pretty good night he concluded.

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