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Long Game 6: Daes Dae'Mar, The Great Game


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I agree. Khamsi (Shiv) is probably the best choice for the next lynch, both for being a verified Darkfriend and for being an experienced, cunning player. We wouldn't want him to turn the game around on us at the last minute.
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Dellan took his time going. I think I spent most of my Dragon's Fangs scrawling it on his gut, but it never took. This result is so satisfying.

And I'm going to get an RP in before all this concludes.  The end is near.

--

 

Rishi tucked her brothers in, and made for the stairs. She had taken to making them sleep in the basement now, ever since the killings escalated and the villagers were picked off one by one like hunters shooting off sitting ducks. She put a rug by the trapdoor, snuffed out the candles, and went to the kitchen to get a stool and a knife sharpener. Then, placing the stool near the door, she checked the locks and bolts on the door and windows to assure herself that they were secure.
 
The hut they were living in was newly repaired, and she knew that no amount of bolting or knives or locks will keep Trollocs out. Trollocs were the substance of nightmares, and Rishi was scared to her bones. She sat on the stool, put the whetstone on her lap and started sharpening her knives. Being the eldest, and a girl at that, she had learned to defend herself well, but she didn't know how long she could manage against Trollocs. 
 
She thought about the mistakes they made, the accusations thrown towards innocents, and she sighed. Light, there were whispers of Darkfriends, but they themselves were guilty of killing off their own. She couldn't make herself go to work now, even if she can technically serve so long as there are tables and people who would like a hot meal and a drink. But her trepidation came from the new innkeeper, Mistress Khamsi. She trusted and supported her. And like everyone else, it looked like she'd been betrayed.
 
As she ground the blade against the stone, she found herself thinking about tomorrow. If she survived the night, someone would get lynched by daytime, and it looked like that someone was the gleewoman. The thought of the Domani woman dying, after the wonderful recipe she shared, after rebuilding the Spruce Thicket, after finding a new friend, was such a waste that it truly upset her, and she lost her concentration and cut herself on the newly sharpened knife, her blood wetting the stone. 
 
She sucked her finger to stop the bleeding, and told herself that Darkfriends must die. Even Darkfriends who make wonderful waffles.
 
Not minding the sting, she continued working, and mumbled, "Khamsi must die" over and over. When she finished, the stone was wet with blood and inexplicably, her tears.
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So Khamsi is lynched tomorrow, Trimat is lynched twice in the following cycles (if my guess is right), and, so long as there aren't five Darkfriends, the game should wrap up nicely.

 

Leas thought that he should have felt some happiness, some grim satisfaction at least, at the execution of Mayor Twim's killer, and likely the one who had murdered several of his friends as well. In reality, he didn't feel much of anything. Maybe it was spending to much time in the Void, maybe it was the far too timely arrival of the trollocs, but he found himself empty. He just wanted to get this over with, and get as far away as possible from this Blighted village, hopefully without being killed by trollocs.

 

It was too bad that fool of a Mayor had decided on a whim that they could only lynch one suspected Darkfirend each day. Some-or-other nonsense about "fair play." Pshaw. Darkfriends aren't going to fight fair; why should we? If Leas had thought there was any way the Darkfriends could actually kill Witless, there was no way under the Light he would have ended up Mayor. 

 

Ah well. I suppose I should be starting my shift on the palisade. There weren't really enough people to properly man the palisade, and there definitely weren't enough to do that and maintain a guard on the Darkfriends, but it was best to keep up appearances. So long as the trollocs thought they had a half decent defence, they might hesitate to attack. It was a good thing that trollocs weren't known for being overly bright. 

 

Burn that Mayor. If it's been up to him, he'd have hung them all two days ago and been done with it. They probably wouldn't have had any better chance of holding off the trollocs, but at least they wouldn't feel quite so hopeless.

 

 

Sorry Wilson, but I was trying to find a valid reason for not just hanging all our suspects at once, and you did name yourself the town fool. :P You've now officially graduated to the level of Medium Awareness

Edited by AonarFaileas
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Day 7Serendipity Strikes

 

The center of Drell’s Crossing was a blazing inferno as the massive pile of debris that had been ignited by the lightning bolt burned like a giant pyre, with it’s dancing flames and massive glow lighting up the night sky a foreboding crimson color, with giant spouts of smoke gushing forth and covering the entire village in a cloud of thick, noxious fog. Waves of heat radiated outwards from the fire, burning and scorching everything in it’s wake as the village was slowly engulfed by the encroaching tempest.

 

***

 

Erik was slowly circling the outskirts of the village on his nightly patrol with his hand shakily resting on the hilt of the sword strapped to his waist, with at least an inch of the bare steel of the blade exposed as he let it out of the scabbard so he could have a quick, fluid strike if he needed to unsheath it in combat.

 

Light give me strength, he silently prayed as he completed his circuit of the town and paused at the front of the palisade erected near one of the roadway entrances into the town. Miraculously, the old, battered gate still stood, welcoming all travelers to the friendly village of Drell’s Crossing, as well as the staked defenses that had been built around the outskirts of the town. As Erik looked in towards the center of the village, where the giant pile of flaming trash still stood burning like an unwavering vigil, he took a deep breath, and with a determined stride, set out on his final task for the night.

 

Duty is heavier than a mountain. Death, lighter than a feather, he repeated the old borderlander mantra, reminding himself that one man’s life was not important, and doing the right thing was never easy. Down in the south, he had always felt the pull of the northern, blight infested lands as they called to and beckoned him to return home and fight. If the Fallen King of Malkier could keep waging his war, despite being alone and without a kingdom or people to lead, then Erik knew he could carry out his self-appointed mission without any regret. He realized now it wasn’t the Borderlands that had called to him after all those years, but it was the Pattern drawing him towards this village, to save them in their time of need.

 

He tightened the grip on his sword as he strode into the darkness, eyes set dead ahead, seeking out revenge against the darkfriends who had tormented this town with their vile, twisted ways. He would make them pay, even if it cost him his own life. The first lesson any borderlander kid ever learned with a sword was Sheathing the Blade. The knowledge that you didn’t always need to live to carry out your task. One man’s life was nothing in the face of stopping evil.

Erik paused as he heard a faint, distant sound coming from behind him, and he spun around in horror, dreading the noise to be the imminent approach of the gathering trollocs, knowing that the villagers could honestly do nothing that could hold off the inevitable invasion. He stood there for a few moments, trying to control his heavy breathing, and straining to listen for the rushing sound of hooves and claws of nearby trollocs that never came. He let out a deep breath and laughed at himself for his paranoid fears, when he again heard the soft, muffled sound of a whistled tune that was carried by the wind.

 

“Halt, who goes there!” He cried out in panic, looking around wildly, trying to penetrate the wall of darkness beyond his vision and brandishing his sword threateningly. “In the name of the Light, show yourself!”

“Gladly,”a voice hissed in his ear, dripping with venom. He yelled out and tried to swing around really fast but was cut short as his vision went white in a flash and he heard the loud, wet thud as a heavy blacksmith’s hammer was smashed into the top of his head, fracturing his skull and knocking him to the ground where he spasmed and writhed in pain. He could only see the dim outline of a silhouette as the hammer was raised once more, and in his dazed, blurry state of mind he could only raise his arms up in a futile defense to try and ward off the blows that followed.

 

***

 

Whistling a merry tune to himself, Gambles strode around the perimeter of the village known as Drell’s Crossing -- as the sign proclaimed -- wondering of a way he could sneak past the palisade without raising a fuss. He hoped that he wasn’t too late and there were still people actually inside the city, but the large, unchecked bonfire burning away into the night wasn’t a good indication.

Storms! He cursed at himself, still using the bizarre speech patterns of the last place he had visited and been told to observe. Although, in comparison, this world was rather strange, within itself. Compared to where he came from, with the fat, red sun and ash constantly falling from the sky, and then going to an even weirder place where everything was made of rock and living, moving flora that would respond to movement and the ferocious, wild storms that would wreck the land every few days, where he was at now was downright peculiar. With it’s bright, bright green plant life, and clear skies decorated with tiny pinpoints of light that could be seen.

 

But still. He had a mission.

 

Unsure of what to do, he reached into pocket and pulled out his most prized possesions; his lucky dice. With a quick shake he tossed them against the palisade wall nearest to them, and with a loud crack, the wooden foundation snapped and went crashing to the ground. Gambles whistled softly, and bent down to pick up his die, which had both landed face up with the pips showing. With a shrug he scooped them up, and walked into the town proper, wrinkling his nose as he stepped over what he could only presume to be a fresh corpse with most of it’s head smashed to a pulp. The giant pyre in the center of town gave off enough light to peer into the town, and as he looked around the wreckage of all of the buildings, he saw one with two walls still standing -- and a door hanging on a single hinge -- with a large sign proclaiming it to be ‘The Waffle House’.

 

People don’t seem to like ‘waffles’ much, Gambles thought with a frown, unfamiliar with the word. Looks to me like that’s a giant, upside down teardrop painted in red on that door, he remarked, wondering what that meant.

Still uncertain of the state of conditions in the town, Gambles sought to seek some sort of shelter to lie low and hide in while he figured things out, and trusting his gut, he walked into The Waffle House, heading towards the Cellar looking for the alcohol.

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Erik was killed! Erik was a Regular Villager! A Dragon Fang was scrawled on Khamsi's door!

 

Apologies for the late write-up. As you can see, I decided to have a little bit of fun. ;) 
The Turn will still last 48hrs, however. The List in the thread OP is updated.

 

Edited by Gamma Fiend
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Vengeance? For what? All I have done is make waffles and entertain the townsfolk in these trying times.

 

...I came out to give everyone a good time and I'm honestly feeling so attacked right now...

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In my experience, it's much more fun to troll people than to pretend that you're innocent, Shiv, but if that's how you want to play it, fine. You're dead today whatever happens. I can't really think of any half decent RP right now so just a vote from me. Khamsi.

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Night 7: The Final Battle Part 1

 

The morning sun timidly slid out from behind distant clouds on the horizon, bringing with it the golden glow of dawn that embraced the village of Drell's Crossing, basking the town with it's comforting warmth that lifted the villager's spirits and boosted their morale. Fueled by the momentum of hanging two darkfriends in as many days, the handful of survivors rallied together outside of The Waffle House, demanding justice finally be served and that the Domani Gleewoman known as Khamsi Zareef show herself and answer for her crimes.
 

Underneath the beating sun the villagers remained gathered, steadfast and determined to not fall for any last minute tricks or distractions, blocking out the sound of blaring horns and beating hooves of the trolloc army that had their tiny, destroyed village surrounded, waiting to strike and invade the town for reasons only known to the Dark One himself. The wind brought with it the vile stench of the savage, untame beasts and the shrill, unnerving shrieks and yells of the wild shadowspawn as they mocked the villagers in their harsh, guttural sounding tongue. The only other sound to be heard was the occasional sob coming from a red-eyed Rishi, who was still sharpening her dagger and staring knives at the wrecked inn and flanked on each side by Leas Fel on one and Witless the other.

 

The Aiel-war veteran was standing rigidly and to attention, with his hand on the hilt of his sword, and any trained eye could tell he was perfectly balanced on his feet to be able to react and strike instantly. Likewise, Witless, the Town Mayor and openly proclaimed half-Aiel had begun openly carrying in one hand a noose, and in the other his freshly sharpened spear that had always hung in his house above his mantle, but most people had always assumed to be some sort of foolish decoration and not an actual weapon. As the afternoon dragged on and the sun began it's slow dip towards the horizon and the sky began to gradually darken, the villagers started share worried looks and grew nervous and restless. Eventually, just as somebody opened their mouth to say something, they were cut off as a sudden, sharp sound rang out, as a single, note rang out from being violently plucked on an unseen stringed instrument.

 

The twangy, harsh noise hung in the air for a moment, as the startled villagers began to look around and find the source of the sound. Sudden music flooded the air, as a flurry of chords were strummed out in a wild, incoherent pattern, and as the people went to raise their ears to block out the music, it suddenly stopped and silence fell upon the village once again, as even the trollocs outside of the town fell ominously quiet at the same moment. The silence held for a few moments, with the whole world seeming to hold it's breath with the villagers as even the wind died down, until a slow, eerie tune began to pour fourth from the still unseen instrument.

 

The haunting music gradually picked up pace, as more notes and chords were added, in an increasingly complex array that overlapped them and made them reverberate. As the song grew louder, the notes began to ring throughout the ghost town of Drell's Crossing, bouncing back faded, phantasmal echoes of the sad lamenting tune that would feed into the grand tapestry of music that kept building. Notes poured forth in dizzying scales and beautiful harmonics, with the song rising to an even higher crescendo. Sudden booms erupted from outside of the village, rocking the ground as trollocs began drumming in tandem with the chaotic, foreboding song, as all of the armed, frightened villagers crowded together into a small circle, looking wildly around for the source of it all, for they had no doubts as to who would put on this kind of show.

 

The wild, erratic flow of music slowly died down and fell into an ordered pattern, with a slower, even more sinister tune, when Witless suddenlly strode forward and shouted furiously.

“Show yourself!”

“Gladly!” A voice cried out with glee, as a section of The Waffle House's floor dropped and slid out of place, and on a slow, rising platform, carrying Khamsi Zareef, wearing her brightly coloured, patched gleewoman's cloak that was stained with blood, with a savage, menacing twinkle in her eye. She strummed her lute and broke out into song:

 

Give me your trust,

Said the fool in his guise,

For behind it all you will find I am wise

Trust me to smile and to share and to give

And I can assure that you will live

But trust is the scent of the gorging crows,

Trust is the scent of battlefield woes,

Trust is the scent of a soul's last breath,

Trust is the scent of death.

 

Give me your trust, said the horse at her post

On my back you can swagger and boast

Trust in my stride and speed above par

And I promise you shall journey far

But trust is the sound of wolves in the night,

Trust is the sound of a broken hoof's plight,

Trust is the sound of a soul's last breath,


 

Give me your trust, said the seller of dirt,

I don't know much, but it couldn't hurt?

Trust in my product to be soily and dark

I assure that this is not a lark

But trust is the color of blood-stained earth,

Trust is the color of what mud is worth,

Trust is the color of a soul's last breath,

Trust is the color of death”


 

The gleewoman took a pause, as the drums outside of the village slowly faded away, and took a breath.

Give me your trust, asked the one singing this song, I'm so cute and clever you cannot go wrong, Trust my stories, my fiddle, my flips, (And don't neglect the generous tips). Because trust is the touch of a warm inn's fire,Trust is the touch thrumming strings on a lyre,Trust is the touch of a soul without strife,Trust is the touch of life.” she half-sang, half-whispered in a conspiratorial tone with a wink.

“And besides,” she added in after a moment, with a huge smile on her face, “ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?”

Khamsi Zareef of Arad Doman, you are hearby accused of being a Darkfriend, and are sentenced to death by hanging.” Was the terse response of the prim-lipped villagers, as they held their weapons forward, pointing towards the gleewoman's vitals.

You can't really blame me for trying, can you?” She said with a sigh, and suddenly turned towards Rishi.

I do apologize,” she said to the bewildered barmaid, “You have been one of the greatest helpers I have ever encountered, and despite waffle meaning “distraction” in Old Tongue, I am sorry for the deception and hurt I have caused in my betrayal. But everybody should know this. I only had one task when coming here. To kill Kaim,” she said in a grave tone. “I would have rather have watched all of you choke on the evil that is the Taint of Shadar Logath, and I'd gladly watch with glee as Mashadar slowly devoured this entire town.

 

But my mission from the Great Lord was clear, and I know his Will is greater than the Pattern, for I will be rewarded far beyond any mortal ken!” She started laughing maniacally as she thrusted her hands above her heads towards the heavens, the gesture causing a ripple in the air above her moving up towards the sky like a wave, as she began to glow with energy and the air around her slightly started to distort. “I know I have pleased the Great Lord, the Lord of the Grave, Lord of the Evening! I have killed the vessel of that evil, and it has already infested your city even during it's brief time in this world here. Your gallows have shed more blood than me, but my Master never gave me any restrictions on what to do after my task was completed. Glories beyond your imagining await me in the afterlife, and I will reap the rewards for serving my Master by taking you all with me!”

 

Khamsi lowered her hands, panting for breath from her diatribe, as wind began to beat furiously around her and dark black clouds suddenly formed in the clear sky above her, blotting out the sun and covering the village of Drell's Crossing in shadow once more. The ominous clouds began to furiously swirl as jagged, crimson lightning silently and unnaturally danced in between them. Gusts of winds buffeted the handful of villagers as they huddles together and feared for the worst when there was a sudden audible click.

 

Yes. You will do nicely.” A gruff, slurred voice said. “Your name is Sooki now, and if you serve me well, I will also reward you greatly.”

 

The shocked villagers opened their eyes when they heard a painful shriek and a thud as Khamsi fell to the floor and began writhing in pain, grasping at a silver collar that had been placed on her neck and was attached to a metallic collar that linked to the wrist of a stout, aged man who was drunkenly wavering on his feet, holding a bottle of alcohol in his other hand. He had rough, wrinkled tan skin of somebody who had spent their days working in the sun, with balding gray hair, and a small, trimmed beard that was peppered black, wearing worn, slightly tattered plain coloured clothing that was covered in faded ash stains.

“Who are you!” The Dreadlord shrieked from on the ground, still struggling with the collar as she continued to spasm in pain. “WHAT IS THIS?!”

 

I am your Master now, and you will do what I say.” The mysterious stranger replied. He opened his mouth to say something else when hundreds of horns began to blare at once, causing everybody to cover their ears and cry out. A small steady rumbling sound grew louder and louder into a thunderous roar, as Newan, Douza, and Trimat came running into the square, waving their arms and pointing towards the the distance where waves of trollocs could be seen topping a hill and charging towards the town in a stampede.

 

The Final Battle of Drell's Crossing had begun!

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Khamsi Zareef was a Darkfriend Channeler!

 

Khamsi (+1) - (4) - Newan, Douza, Witless(+1)

Newan - Trimat

 

Apologies for the super delay once again, but hopefully this write-up will be worth it! Khamsi is considered dead for the duration of the game by all means and purposes, Shiv can't post anymore or anything. Anything Khamsi does is an extension of my actions. As Gambles is now my avatar in the game. For awesome RP, fun's sake.

 

These last few rounds should (hopefully) be super, RP heavy, if you want, just for the fun of having a battle! Night Actions will still be sent in and work like normal, as will lynches. Any kills will still be easily distinguishable, but this should just add for more fun this way! Hope you all enjoy!
 

Edited by Gamma Fiend
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The screams of the villagers was drowned out by the overwhelming roar of the approaches masses of shadowspawn, as drums and horns pulsed and blared, adding to the pandemonium, as pale, eyeless Myyrdrall, standing tall in their sinuous black armor made of overlapping scales and equally dark, lank hair, raising their shadow wrought blades, created in the bloody forges of Thakan'Dar. Draghkar shrieked and swooped down from the skies, their murderous screeches raising goosebumps on the arms of the petrified villagers who had huddles together in a small circle, feeling hopeless and defensive as nobody moved a muscle, paralyzed in their fear.

 

The sky suddenly flashed and ripped open as dozens of blinding lightning bolts struck from the dark clouds above, smashing the monstrous winged beasts from the air and ripping apart ranks of the charging trollocs as the thunderous booms heaved up huge chunks of earth flying into the air and crashing back down on the ranks of the shadowspawn, causing the ground to shake and tremble, knocking countless more trollocs off of their feet.

 

The dumbfounded villagers unsteadily regained their balance as they looked around, bewildered and shocked at the sudden turn of events. They looked back to the steps of The Waffle House, where a wide-eyed Khamsi was staring, equally stunned and mouth agape, starting wordlessly at the settling dust clouds where the lightning had struck.

"What have you made me do!" She shrieked shrilly, and was knocked off of her feet as some unseen source of pain wracked throughout her body and sent her sprawling to the ground once more. "You fool, you have no idea what forces you are messing with! Do you have idea who I am?!"

 

"You are Sooki. And you will do what I say. You can call me Gambles." He turned to address the rest of the speechless villagers, slightly swaying on his feet. "You can all call me Gambles, and it looks like I have but no choice but to help you, if I want to get myself out alive. But I can't do this alone! You'll all have to rally with me, and with any luck all of you can survive until morning!"

The drums from outside of the village began again in earnest, as the trollocs formed back up and started to charge once more as Gambles took a swig from his flask. "Time to Roll the Dice," he whispered.

 

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Trimat looked at the new man, this Gambles character. He saw no auras. This confused him, because everybody else had auras, and he knew what was going to happen to them. Not gambles. No sir, that man was special.

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Pfft. Liar. We know you're not a Viewer, and we strongly suspect that you're an Aiel-Blooded. You Darkfriends really aren't being all that fun, are you? :P

 

Leas stalked through the town, trying to organize the last-minute defences. The new arrival's stunt with Khamsi had bought them a little time, but not much more than a few minutes. Seeing Trimat ranting about his, "Viewings," to a few of the townspeople, Leas fought as hard as he could not to draw his sword then and there. Even with the emptiness of the Void, it was a struggle. Instead, cuffed him over the head, sending the man sprawling in the dirt. 

 

"Can someone chain this one up? And please make sure he doesn't get out again? We have enough problems as it is."

 

"I'll do it, sir." Walking over, Douza set down a small cloth-wrapped bundle. "This is what we collected from the cellar underneath Dellan's house. It took a while to find it underneath the rubble, but this is everything of interest." 

 

"Thank you," Leas said, nodding a dismissal. Unwrapping the bundle, he was a little put out by how little there was. A few trinkets of unusual make; probably ter'angreal, but not knowing what they did, they couldn't risk using them, if any of them could even be used by a non-channeller. One Heron-marked sword, most likely Mayor Twim's. It was Power-wrought, and far finer than any modern weapon, but it was still just a blade. 

 

Reaching down to pick up the sword, he saw a rod made from twisted red stone, half-hidden underneath it. Something about the object felt... wrong. The other ter'angreal may as well have been children's toys for all Leas knew, but this was somehow different. Whatever it was, however, he wasn't going to mess with it.

 

Strapping on Twim's sword, Leas wrapped the ter'angreal back up, looking to see if he could spot the newcomer. While Gambles didn't seem to have any control over the One Power himself, that collar gave him some control over Khamsi. Hopefully something here would be useful to hold off the trollocs for a little longer.

 

Sorry about the lack of RP, Gamma. I can't speak for anyone else, but things are a touch busy on my end. Plus, I can't write fight scenes worth crem. :P I've been working on that, (and writing in general) but I'm not super confident with it. So I'll confine myself to the lulls between charges, I guess. 

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The manacles had been a secret commission from the old innkeeper, before his mistaken execution. Douza had kept them in the hope that they could catch Mayor Twim's killers- well, with any luck they had fulfilled that role now. The town was convinced that the manure salesman was one of these 'Darkfriends.' A magic collar would have been better, but the strange drunkard had insisted it wouldn't work. Something about...ter-angles? Like the horrible things he'd had to pull from the rubble of Dellan's house? Still, one lightning-summoner was useful. Even if it was that stranger controlling her, not one of the proper townsfolk.

All in all, he was surprised how calm he felt. He'd been frightened that morning, even with Newan flying ahead to make sure the way to Dellan's house was clear. But killing three trollocs on the way back had done a lot to steady his nerve. Feeling a skull split under his axe was strangely...satisfying. There wasn't much left of the town, aside from a lot of rubble and barely one-quarter of the people - but that was more than enough to leave a few shadowspawn corpses for the next traveller to find. Time to fight, even if they couldn't survive.

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Day 8: The Battle of Drell's Crossing Pt 2:


 


The city of Drell's Crossing faced it's bleakest hour yet as the scores of shadowspawn that had gathered outside of it had swarmed in for one last rush, threatening to stampede and overrun the entire village, laying all structures to waste and littering the streets with bodies. Gambles watched on in horror as the palisades surrounding the town were stormed and within mere moments, trollocs had penetrated into the city and were running through the streets, hooting savagely and slashing wildly. He was still unsure the exact capabilities of the power he could vicariously wield through the collared woman, and he wasn't even entirely sure how it worked or what she was even doing, but he wasn't to waste time and start asking pointless questions.

He didn't have time to properly train Sooki, he realized, and bellowed orders at her, waving the flask in his hand at her threateningly. She at first refused, but after a jolt or two she eventually let up, and with a cry she thrust her hands out, sending fireballs shooting towards the first wave of trollocs that had reached the square where all of the villagers had gathered, reducing them to cinders and shrieking masses of blazing fur, but Gambles could see the next band of trollocs already storming down the streets, ready to take the place of any fallen shadownspawn.

 

After all of the different places Gambles had traveled to recently, and with everything he had seen, he was unsure what he prayed to anymore, exactly, and in a moment of panic and unsure of what else to do, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his Lucky Dice and kissed them real fast before blindly tossing them up into the air. After a second of suspense that seemed to stretch out for an eternity, he heard the unmistakable clacking sound of the dice striking each other and hitting the ground, and he looked around hopefully, looking for any sort of immediate results.


The trollocs continued to rage on unperturbed, and Gambles looked on upon the dice, crestfallen, as he saw two ones staring back up at him from the dice.

“The Great Lords Eyes,” he heard Sooki whisper breathlessly beside him, and just at that moment the clouds passed out from in front of the moon, bathing the village in brilliant light. A sudden, single howl rang out, rising above all of the din of the battle, and was followed by a chorus of countless other similar cries. Hundreds of wolves appeared out of nowhere, rising out of patches of high grass, rushing out of the woods in packs and troves, all snarling and racing toward the nearest shadowspawn, their fierce golden eyes shining in the darkness.


Gambles took advantage of the distraction and on a gut feeling, snatched something from the pile of things some of the villagers had brought forward claiming to belong to a Fosaken, whatever that was. He thrust the item into Sooki's hands and whispered a command into her ear. She sat there shocken and mouth agape, starting at him for a few seconds before shaking her head and complying. With a flick of her wrist, there was a sudden explosion as the barricades around the village erupted with giant spouts of flame that continued to burn and formed a giant ten foot span tall wall of fire around Drell's Crossing.


“That should buy us some time!” He shouted out to the villagers who had spread out and were defending the town square, engaging in the nearest trollocs and taking them down before they could get grouped up and overwhelm them. “But now we must fight with no abandon and hope we last until morning!”

 

A few unenthusiastic cheers rang forth, but the worn down and tattered villagers were obviously tired and overwhelmed by such insurmountable odds. But then Leas Fel stepped forward.


 

***


Leas Fel observed the small, ragtag band of survivors as they wordlessly watched their impending doom. Without emotions or thought, the old Aiel War veteran floated inside The Void, the tiny little flame inside of his mind where he would send all of his feelings or thoughts, any distracting emotions or conscious decisions. His fear, his apprehension, and most of all his anger, he directed all of it into feeding the Void, stoking the flame inside. He didn't know why or how it had come to this, and he partially blamed himself for letting a fool, of all people, to lead them during the time of crisis. He knew better than that!


He would no longer stand aside and wait for somebody else to take charge. Witless truly was an appropriate moniker for the so-called Mayor, and with resignation, Leas Fel stepped forward, ready to finally assume the mantle he had always known he was best suited to fill. The fool could keep his sash, Leas Fel just knew the town needed a real leader. He watched as Douza came running into the square, covered with multiples stains of blood and wielding a massive hammer that was dripping even more, the young blacksmith appeared to be unhurt, but looked confused, unsure of who to go to for any following orders. Leas Fel had had enough.

 

He stepped forward, “I don't know who this guy is, but it sounds like we bloody well listen to him!” He bellowed, jabbing a thumb at the man who called himself Gambles and was bending down and whispering directions into the ear of the frightened darkfriend he had collared.

 

“But I do know this! He is a stranger, and I see him fighting to save this town more than any of us! We, who have lived through this horrible conflict! We, who have fought and bled for this town! Are we to stand by and idly watched as we get slowly overran? No!” He cried out, raising Mayor Twim's sword high above his head, the heron-marked blade feeling perfectly balanced in his hand, and ran forward, not even bothering to look behind him to see if he was being followed or not. He knew these villagers were good people and would do what was right.


Still in the Void, Leas ran up to a group of three trollocs who halted in their tracks, surprised that they were were being charged at instead of fled from, and without thinking broke into Apple Blossoms in the Wind, three quick strikes that were normally meant to drive multiple opponents back, but the sudden onslaught left the shadowspawn defenseless and Leas was already moving past them as they crumbled to the ground with blood leaking from fresh wounds. He skidded to a halt around a corner, and following his instinct he raised up his blade defensively to block from an attack from his blind side and lashed out with Threading the Needle, hitting the shocked trolloc in the shoulder, causing them to drop their weapon and then with a powerful sideways swing, he decapitated the giant beast.


He turned back around and saw Douza hot on his heels and fending off a giant beaked trolloc off with wide, ferocious swings of his hammer, and moved to go help him when he saw a flying knife take the monster right in the throat. He followed the path of the knife's trajectory and saw it come from Rishi, the bar maid, who flashed a grin at him as she came running past him, sliding two more knifes into each hand and raising them to find new targets. He turned back around and decided he should focus more on his surrounding as he dodged a swing of a giant spiked mace and struck back with The Courier Taps His Fan, his power-wrought blade easily sliding through the armor the trolloc was wearing. He went to pull his blade free from the dead beast, but it was shoved from behind from another one, and the trolloc lifeless trolloc toppled on top of him, it's massive size and weight overwhelming him and sending him sprawling to the ground, trapped beneath the giant corpse.


Leas Fel struggled to get free and yelled for help when suddenly the trolloc was lifted from him in a fluid motion, only to fall back to the ground a second later on a couple of other shadowspawn who were rushing towards him a few feet away. A screech from the air above jolted him to his senses and he looked up to see Newan riding on the back of his fantastical winged beast he had called a raken, clinging to the saddle and deftly maneuvering it throughout the air above the village and occasionally swooping in to take shots at the trollocs with a bow and arrow as the raken would keep up it's routine of scooping up bodies and tactically dropping them.

 

The veteran got back to his feet, spinning out of the way of the strike of an axe, grabbing ahold of the weapon and twisting back around the other way, wresting it from the trollocs grasp and bringing it around in a powerful swing, wedging the axe deep into the monster's skull. He frantically looked around and saw the hilt of Mayor Twim's sword sticking out from underneath from a corpse of a trolloc, and he dove and rolled over toward it, trying to pry it free. As he struggled with the weight of the beast, he heard another group of trollocs round the corner less than ten feet away from him, and almost abandoned the sword when he saw a flying spear go right above his head and slam into the chest of the closest trolloc. He looked around and saw Witless standing there, no longer looking a fool as he was dressed in strange mud and dirt colored garbs, wielding a small little shield with a handful of spears tied around his back and a large knife strapped to his waist.


The town fool wordlessly bent down and with a nod, helped Leas to heave the body onto it's side as he pulled his sword free, and instantly rose to his feet, spinning on his heels and swinging the blade in an upward vertical slash, forcing yet another trolloc to jump backwards and out of his range, as four more trollocs rushed up beside him and contemplated both of the prey in front of them. Still deep inside of the Void, Leas thoughtlessly rushed forward and struck out with Heron Spreads It's Wings, a wide-spread cutting technique that sliced right through the beasts. Not even pausing to catch his breath or wipe the fetid blood off of his blade, Leas kept on rushing forward, refusing to back down to the vile forces of shadow that had threatened him and his hometown. With a loud roar, Leas Fel let out a savage battle cry and raised his sword in front of him, and continued on to battle.


 

***


 

Many hours later, Leas found himself completely exhausted, with sweat pouring off of his body, along with small rivulets of blood from numerous shallow cuts and scratches he had received while battling. His vision had begun to grow blurry, and with each ragged breath he took, there was a sharp pain in his chest from where he had received a wicked blow to the ribs earlier from a warhammer. His armor had countless dents and nicks, and he wasn't entirely even sure how many trollocs he had even managed to cut down so far. He just knew he was so tired!

Light, save us! He silently prayed as he leaned against a tattered wall, looking around for any immediate enemies. The One Power fueled wall of fire that had surrounded the village had began to dwindle as the horizon began to lighten, and Leas knew that it wouldn't last forever, and soon enough hundreds more shadowspawn would come flowing into the village to find a group of injured and disparaged group of survivors who would be too weak to even defend themselves. Not for the first time that night, he thought about just how hopeless their situation really was, and wondered just exactly what they could do to save themselves. Even the collared Dreadlord, seemingly underneath the control of the psycho who named himself after an ill-reputed hobby, wouldn't be of much help much longer, for Leas Fel had no illusions of the limitations of Channelers. Eventually, the gleewoman would either collapse from exhaustion – the same as any regular human – or they would burn themselves out. Either scenario did not bode well for the villagers.


 

So distracted by his morbid thoughts, Leas realized he wasn't exactly sure where he was in the village anymore, and was by himself, he realized with horror. He started and looked about, trying to see some sort of landmark, when he noticed the building in front of him. It had a Dragon Fang scrawled on the door. Perplexed that somebody would take the time to paint something like that during the middle of a battle, Leas shook his head and slightly limped away from the house, trying to get some sort of bearing on his direction. He passed from in front of buildings into an open field onto his side, and with a sniff, he realized where he was with a groan.

Flaming manure, he thought with a grimace, figuring he should have realized it would be Trimat's house with the Dragon Fang scrawled on it. Bloody darkfriend, he told himself with a curse, he was selling us his crap all along, and we just bought it right up. He went to turn away and head back in towards the town square, when he stopped short and noticed something odd. A small, thin tendril of silvery fog was seen in his peripheral vision, but when he turned to look at it, there was nothing there. What he saw instead was a fresh hole dug in the pile of manure that Trimat had always kept next to his house, which the villagers had always forced him to keep far away from the rest of the houses. He frowned for a moment, wondering why somebody would spend all of the time digging a hole when the realization dawned on him. Too late, he heard the squelching sound of a footstep from behind him in the pile of manure, and his vision turned to white as he was struck from behind in the head by something metallic, the clank of metal hitting his helmet setting it reverberating and dazing him as he was knocked off of his feet and went sprawling face first into what he now realized to be a grave, his mouth filling with manure as he opened his mouth to yell as he landed. He scrambled to regain his feet, still dizzy and head still ringing from the blow when he heard a grunt from above, and looked around in time to see another swing of the hammer as it clipped him in the face, knocking him back to the ground. He lay helpless and unable to regain motor control as he felt tiny thuds as shovel full after shovel full of manure and dirt was piled on top of him. He feebly struggled underneath the increasing weight as all light was slowly blocked out as he slowly choked and suffocated on the vile stench and the rapidly depleting supply of fresh air. He wished he could do more, and quietly prayed to the Light one last time, not for personal salvation, but for the hope of some miracle to deliver the village from the grasp of evil that seemed to have a firm hold over it.


***


Morning brought with it the dead silence of dawn, as the fires surrounding the village slowly burned out, leaving the village completely defenseless as it's barricades were reduced to smoldering piles of ash. The shadowspawn had regathered back outside of town in a disorderly mess, with scores of corpses of trollocs and wolves littering the ground as crows swarmed in mass, feeding openly on the masses of rotting bodies. The villagers didn't know why they didn't immediately rush the town, but they knew as soon as it happened, they would be completely helpless to hold them back.


 

So they gathered, and they waited.

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

Leas Fel was killed! He was a Regular Villager! A Dragon's Fang was scrawled on Trimat's Door!

 

 

 

 

Remaining players:
Newan – Seanchan rider
Witless – Town Fool, Mayor
Douza – Blacksmith
Rishi – Bar maid

Trimat – Manure Salesman

Edited by Gamma Fiend
mindor editing
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Fantastic write-up, Gamma!

 

Rishi tiredly looked around at the remaining villagers and looked in the direction of the hut near the former inn. Her hair and face were covered in soot, and her arms were riddled with scratches and cuts. She tried to limp towards her house to check on her brothers, her left thigh bleeding from a deep wound, when she heard them cry out her name, "Rishi!"
 
Her three little brothers ran to her, and to the small circle of gathered villagers, and she hugged them fiercely, tiredly, relieved that they were still alive. 
 
"We stayed in the cellar, like you told us, Rishi...I'm afraid...", the youngest of the three said, putting out her arms to her so she could carry him. She did so, cringing at the pain in her thigh, and smiled encouragingly at her 3-year old brother. Light, he was too young to be witnessing this horror.
 
"You're a good boy, Reyan.", she murmured to his hair, savoring this moment of respite. She couldn't understand why the shadowspawn stopped advancing, nor why they are even giving the village time to recover, when they were just a handful of people who can be easily crushed.
 
She thought of the valor of Leas...wait...where's Leas? She looked at the faces of the remaining villagers and couldn't find him.
 
She walked unsteadily towards Douza who was leaning on his huge hammer, and asked him where Leas was. He looked around and said, "Trimat..." under his breath.
 
She felt a chill then, caused not by the wind, nor by the Trollocs waiting to ravage the village. They had one more job to do. To kill a Darkfriend. Trimat, who should be buried under the crap he tried to sell.
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Trimat, and I hope he really is the last one.  Because if not, it's going to be 2 against 1, and that'll be a tough call.

Edit: Just to clarify, I'm not questioning whether Trimat really is a darkfriend.  I'm just wondering what would happen if there is one more besides him.

Edited by New One
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The shadowspawn had backed off. Maybe they'd been surprised by the villagers' ferocity, or maybe they just didn't like daylight. Hopefully the latter, which would mean they had all day to rebuild their defences. There were few enough of them that they had no chance of holding the town; if they focused their efforts on the Waffle House and the old town hall, maybe they could hold out for another night.

Or not. There was no sign of Leas Fel anywhere. Not only had they lost a key fighter, but their leadership now consisted of a fool for a Mayor and a drunkard gambler. Originally Douza had assumed the trollocs had beaten him down after they had become separated in the fighting, but that felt...wrong. And Newan hadn't seen a body from the air. Why would the trollocs hide the body? No, this was Trimat's work. Somehow the manure salesman had escaped his chains.

Douza left his hammer at the cellar's entrance and wearily descended the steps. He didn't know what he expected to find - empty cuffs, maybe, or a hole in the wall where he'd affixed the chain. How had he escaped? Maybe - 

Trimat was there.

Douza stood, transfixed, then crossed the room in a few strides and pinned the salesman bodily against the wall. "You - how!?"

 

Trimat just stared back at him, eyes wide. Suddenly conscious of being stabbed by a hidden knife, Douza stepped back, and Trimat crumpled to the floor. He caught the man's wrists as he fell. The cuffs looked fine; bolts fixed, pins in place, metal unbent, chain secure. He reached up and tugged a few times where the chain was fixed to the wall. No, that was secure too.
 

Douza scowled, and walked back up the steps. Must have been magic. There was far too much of that around the town. Emerging from the ruins, he turned to Rishi, who was hugging one of her brothers. "Trimat's no help to us. I say we throw him to the trollocs next time they come."

Edit: It was an axe. But I like the hammer better, so thanks for the retcon.

Edited by twelfthrootoftwo
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Edit: It was an axe. But I like the hammer better, so thanks for the retcon.

 

Heh, yeah, I caught that it was actually an axe after I posted the write-up, but I decided to make you go all Perrin, instead. :P And besides, we can just chalk up any inaccuracy to the weakening Pattern. :P

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"Listen up, everybody!" Gambles shouted, trying to gather everybody's attention, distracting them from their cries to hang somebody who had somehow committed murder despite being locked up the entire evening, or so they claimed. He still wasn't entirely sure what had all gone down in the village prior to his arrival, but there seemed to be quite a bit of bloodlust for people who were in the middle of a ferocious battle with hideous, horrible monsters. But his gut told him it would be better to not to interfere, lest they turn on him!

 

"Now, I know you all accused this one of being a 'friend of the dark', whatever that means," he said, rattling the leash to indicate he meant the woman he had collared. "But I tell you, Sooki is a good girl! Look how compliant she has been!" He gestured toward the gleewoman formerly known as Khamsi, as he sat huddled next to Gambles, fidgeting with the small, ivory statuette that she had been handed the night before. "She says she can heal all of you and wash away your fatigue! Now I'm no soldier or tactician, but to me that sounds like something y'all could desperately use. I don't know why these.... troll ox are attacking you, but I mean to get out of here alive, and I'd prefer it if you all helped me with that."

 

Somebody opened their mouth to begin asking him why he was here, helping them, and Gambles abruptly silenced them with a wave of the hand. "Listen, do you skaa need healing, or what?"

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