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To Sail Amid The Seas Of Fate - Jorimel's Eldar Rp

Discussion in 'Role Playing' started by Jorimel, Jan 31, 2015.

  1. Jorimel Jorimel Well-Known Member

    It was a plain fact that the fight had gone from more or less civilised altercation to vicious and personal. Eyes once fixed firmly on the horizon of the race now faced each other, narrowed like raptors aiming to strike for the kill.

    Iktomi had a ot of close quarter fighting under his belt, some of it honourable combat. He tried to use Alo's momentum against him, but as he turned to pivot with the Dire Avenger and turn him over onto his back and down to the ground, he didn't quite get enough leverage. Alo caught the Pirate's ear in one hand and gave the sensitive organ a painful twist as he was carried forward, the weight of his body pulling down on the pinna. It wasn't enough to unbalance Iktomi, but it hurt. It left Alo's arm in a curiously raised position, his balance impaired. Iktomi himself was facing the wrong way to take much advantage of this, however, and caught in a painful grip. Alo seemed to have gained an advantage of his own.

    Lysandriax watched without much surprise, though her mouth was set in a line as she looked at the sun and the gathering crowd of Exodites. In contrast, Avrielle had both her hands over her mouth.

    @kanila @DaKaptin @Wata @Colapse @Kalle

    [I am very sorry for the delay. That eternal scourge real life took over and ate into my gaming time. In case you are curious, as both gambits had their merits I made some dice rolls - three pairs, so as not to put it all on one - and Iktomi came out second.]
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  2. Wata Wata Arkhona Vanguard

    Seeing a chance to end this here and now, Alo got into a better position taking advantage of his ear grip on Iktomi and choked him while kneeing him in the gut, also throwing punches to his face switching between punches and knee kicks.
    Alo hoped this would put the corsair down already. His pride refused to give up until victory was achieved.
  3. Kaptin Digganob DaKaptin Well-Known Member

    Iktomi gripped Alo's hand, applying force to relieve some of the pressure around his throat. Until Alo's followed with blows to the face and gut. Blood fell free from his nose and mouth, vision blurred, but the pain gave him focus. Planting both feet firmly, Iktomi moved his free hand lower to his waste sash, as if to protect his gut. Teeth gritted, the Felarch push forward to the Avenger and then swung back with all his weight, hoping it would be enough to put Alo off balance. Likely achieving in Alo fall on top if him.
    With a slash, Ikotmi cut the arm of the hand around his neck with a concealed blade. Forcing Alo's hand away with his own already gripping it, positioning the sharp edge of the blade at Alo's throat. Then stopping just above the skin, dry heaving for fresh air.
    "Yield, don't make me..." Ikomi says through gritted and bloody teeth. The Corsair could see that Alo was determined to win at all costs and so was he, but not for this. Not when their was a treasure to find and dangers ahead of them.
    Clearing his throat, Iktomi continued, "...I yield. We both must be functional for what is to come." Removing the blade slowly from Alo's throat, the Felarch raises his hands in submission. Blade still in hand.
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  4. Wata Wata Arkhona Vanguard

    "Get off me, cur!"
    Alo kicked Iktomi off him hard enough to send him reeling and got up. Alo didn't look anyone in the eye, he gathered his things, grabbed his cape and walked away. He sat down in a secluded area on a rock, trying to steady his breath, making sure to be somewhat out of sight and separate from anyone.
    He put his rifle to lean against his inner thigh and tossed the white and gold cape a few steps away from him.

    His Dire Avenger's helmet he had placed next to him kept staring. Alo looked into its eyes a moment, briefly getting reminded of home, his duties to the Shrine and Craftworld and the Farseer that had put him up to this whole mess. Alo kicked the helmet away too, to stop its accusing stare.
    He settled to sulk silently to himself, leaning against his knees and staring at the ground.
  5. Jorimel Jorimel Well-Known Member

    It was an ugly, inelegant fight. No honour duel, this. A brief, bloody scrap, loaded with meaning, freighted with malice and old wounds. As a draw on the sourness that was plaguing the party, it did not cleanse, but the air had cleared a little now that it was over.

    The few Exodites having stayed to watch drifted back to their work, and the guards stood down. There was much more to do here than watch what looked like petty squabbling (though the planet-dwellers did know the causes or their nuances). The fight had left the ground marked with Eldar blood, but it was the blood of outsiders.

    Avrielle stood still, unsure of who to go to or, by the look of her, if she even should. Talis laid a hand on her arm and spoke briefly, and she shook her head. She made as if to take a step towards one of the Eldar, but Lysandriax stepped up closer.

    "It's the way of the Corsairs, young one, surely you know that." She raised a hand, just a simple gesture of warning the radiotech not to proceed. "You are from Lugganath."

    "No it is not. Not for everyone," Avrielle said, her eyes flicking from Iktomi to Alo. "It is not how the Eldritch Raiders conduct themselves. It is not the way of the Steeleye Reavers."

    "But it is the way of the Void Dragons," Lysandriax said. "What you just saw - there is a name for that, in the Dark City: llith'antu klaiv, the knife that stays the blade. Better a few scars than death, yes?"

    "Better that we not fight amongst ourselves," the little radiotech said softly. "I guess ... maybe we did need someone like Morvan to keep a different perspective on things. A Seer."

    "He is a Warlock, child; hardly a man of peace."

    "I don't know." Avrielle said, looking miserable. "But let us move on. We have a mission. I want to get moving." She took up her pack and, cradling her radioset in her arms once more, set off.

    Alo's cloak fluttered to the ground in a white flurry, as if the goddess Lileath had dropped her handkerchief. No gallant god paused to pick it up.

    Iktomi's sacrifice of victory, or calculated politics, or however he wished to cast it had ended the fight but he had finished it asprawl on the ground. Not the most impressive hour. But whatever it was, it was done.

    Lysandriax cast a look around, nodding to those that met her gaze. "Now that's done, let's get moving. We have a river valley to find and doubtless some climbing ahead, keep your eyes open and watch the skies. The most likely threats are hostile fauna and aerial attacks. Hopefully none of the latter, but I don't rely on hope." It wasn't much of a rallying speech, but then she was not looking to inspire. Then she paused, and took a moment to speak to Talis. The young Exodite looked unhappy, casting a look back to the fields, but he nodded at her words.

    "... no, I want to go with her," he almost whispered, the only part of his speech audible to all. "She doesn't know the wilderness. I do. Let me help."

    "I would not stand in your way, Child of Kurnous."

    However the others might react to the fight, it was time to move before too much daylight was lost. As they walked, Yareli moved to the side of her 'betrothed'. Was this what she expected from her Prince among Eldar? She said nothing, looking contemplative as she walked along. But she said nothing to censure, either, and eventually with movement and distance and fresh air the aura became a little calmer, at least.

    Following the directions from the Exodites, there was little to guard against as the number of Eldar - heavily-armed, pugnacious Eldar - was sufficient to see off any opportunistic predators. With Talis' guidance some fresh meat and some gathered plants were added to the menu of rations, with his care not to take anything that would be detrimental to their long-distance hosts.

    It was a warm evening, just below the path to the hanging valley, that found the small band making camp before preparing for the ascent on the morrow. The mood was uncertain, very much in the hands of the Star-Children themselves, but the scent of cooking food and Lysandriax' provision of a little wine to go with it were making the fireside more cosy.

    @kanila @DaKaptin @Wata @Colapse @Kalle
  6. Jorimel Jorimel Well-Known Member



    "It is time for you to take the stage."

    "Will you be joining us?"

    "We shall only be the matinee. Yours is the performance."

    "You could add your blades and skill in stealth and finding hidden ways to our own."

    "If we could do that, would we not have done it?"

    "Would you, though? Some do not trust you bright Maskers."

    "Some may remember the jests of our Master less than fondly ..."

    "Oh, put away your tragic face. He is not out to tarnish our oh so glossy reputation, Wyrd-teller."

    "Still, to see the ways, yet tread them not ..."

    "A temptation?"


    "A challenge?"


    "A joke with ourselves as the punchline?"

    "Oh the killing irony."

    "You were ever Death at the Masquerade, dear Jester."

    "My very job description."

    "Save your banter. How am I to introduce myself to these travellers? They are likely to be distrustful."

    "You are the Avenger. The noble, principled son of Asurmen. Start with your name."

    "Use your good looks and charm."

    "I'd not advise challenging anyone to a duel."

    "It will be ... pleasing, to get back to those who speak as normal Eldar do."

    "We speak when spoken to,
    When all is set
    Leave now, without ado
    And go without regret."

    "That was terrible prose and worse poetry."

    "Sometimes we improvise."

    "Sssh, the gate opens."

    "What gate? I see no-"

    @kanila @DaKaptin @Wata @Colapse @Kalle @BlackNecron
  7. Jorimel Jorimel Well-Known Member

    Vella was watchful, even if the small band was at ease and the smell of roasting rockrabbit would make even a stone salivate. She could see a slight haze in the air, a few feet from the camp, and blinked to check that it wasn't a heatshadow cast by the fire. It was not.

    Faenkon could sense something in the way the air currents moved around the sheltered camp-spot. There wasn't much cover, but a shallow cave in the lower slopes of the steep-sided valley provided the place of rest for the night. So he could be fairly sure that attack from behind was impossible, given the usual solidity of rock.

    The tall figure was lithe and dressed in black, which might have marked her for a Guardian of grim Ulthwe had it not been for the long coat that swept back from her shoulders and the white contrast of bones. Bones limned her armoured form, and it was by no means clear that they were all props and paint. She carried a long gun on her back, and her two gloved hands were held out in front of her, sweeping to the side as she made a theatrical bow to the Dark Reaper.

    "Cousin in Death, well met."

    Vella and Faenkon could react first of all, the surprise of the new arrivals just tempered by quick reflexes and the special luck a traveller of Fate sometimes has. But as the rest of the Masque materialised, a colourful figure for each party plus a handful more, cartwheeling and leaping over the fire, never quite still enough to count, it was neither subtle nor covert. Harlequins. One perched beside Iktomi and took his goblet from his hand, raising it in a toast. One sat next to the shocked Talis, mirroring his surprised expression with a dumbfounded look. Another tried to poke a dial on Avrielle's radio-set, only to have his hand slapped away in a reflex. His mask copied her expression of horrified apology perfectly. Yet another, blue eyes glinting behind a smooth face as pale as the moon, gestured to Yareli to see if he might join her at the fireside. She nodded regally.

    One stood out from the carnival camaraderie. A male Eldar of noble aspect, his face handsome and bearing good - one who knew how to present his average height and build to advantage without vanity. One armoured not in colourful silks and jewels, but in the armour of the Dire Avenger and bearing the sigil of Biel-Tan. He was flanked by two of the masked Eldar, one of whom gestured as if presenting him to the group.

    "One to aid you in your quest,
    Take him if you think it best."

    "Do we have to do it this way? That fellow doesn't look like he has much of a sense of humour."

    "Oh, nonsense, I'm sure he likes a joke as much as the next Eldar." The two glanced towards the Eldar next to Alo, who happened to be the Death Jester.

    "Well, all right, look; this is Onvar, take good care of him won't you? We've grown quite attached. But he isn't fated for Cegorach."

    "Though he is feted by Cegorach."

    "No, this one is for you. To help you find the sword. We have special permission to take him away from home and hearth and bring him to you." This Harlequin, more than any other Harlequin, looked shifty. "Well, permission ... I'm sure someone asked, somewhere."

    "It's important. And we had a mission to come to you, anyway. We have someone to see. Two drakes with one arrow, right?" This one looked at Talis, whose mouth was open.

    "It's all right, little one, it's not you." He reached forward and produced a single shuriken from behind Talis' ear. He handed it to the young Exodite. "You should keep that. It's lucky."

    The Death Jester raised her hand, and the chattering Masque fell silent.

    "Good evening, fellow wanderers. Do forgive our interruption. We have sacred work here. An appearance and a disappearance, if you will. May we join your fireside?"

    @kanila @DaKaptin @Wata @Colapse @Kalle @BlackNecron
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  8. Kal Kalle Arkhona Vanguard

    With two sentries guarding the campsite, the usually alert young lady of Saim-Hann had put all thoughts of watchfulness out of her mind. With a rockrabbit speared upon a knife in one hand, the Corsair happily regaled whoever would listen with stories from her home Craftworld. She had a talent for it, too, painting vibrant images of glorious battles and immortalized heroes of her Craftworld. It seemed that whenever her own clan was involved, the proud Skybloods of Saim-Hann, the story always ended with bloody vengeance or a trick that outwitted their foe. Despite her impassioned performance, the Corsair nonetheless kept her voice at a reasonable level, not about to frustrate her companions with chatter.

    The Death Jester arrived at the conclusion of one of her stories --- coincidentally one such story that ended with a proud warrior of Skyblood thrusting his mighty blade through a hated foe --- and the Corsair derailed mid-sentence to gaze at the approaching Harlequin. Then, others of the troupe appeared, and the Corsair's surprise was replaced with an expression of delighted interest as she watched the Harlequins' antics. She excused herself from the fire, standing up to approach, and matched the Harlequins' theatrical manners quite eerily as she dipped into a bow of her own.

    "Of course, servants of the Laughing God," the Corsair of Saim-Hann replied. She righted herself again, regarding their unexpected guests. She cast a look over her shoulder, back to the others. "Surely? It can only be good fortune for the remembrancers of our people to come here, now, when we are about to undertake our quest... and with aid, as well," she concluded, eyes settling on the Dire Avenger Onvar with a smile creeping onto her face. The blonde studied him, sky blue eyes taking in his posture, and then her smile was complete. She shared it with him for a moment longer, before she looked once more back to her senior companions. After all, she was fresh to the group and not one to force her will among relative strangers.

    "What say you, friends?"
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  9. Wata Wata Arkhona Vanguard

    "The circus never ends..."
    Alo mumbled into his cup as he took a sip of tea, doing his best to ignore the harlequins and the corsairs. He stared at the fire. He had put his cape back on once they had left the exodites.
    He had been quiet and secluded most of the time during their trip, now he was just tired and annoyed. Granted, he was annoyed and grumpy by default usually.
    To the new Dire Avenger he gave but a glance and a sigh. He was just tired for now.
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  10. kanila kanila Subordinate

    With the new arrivals showing up from nowhere and everywhere at once it seemed the strings of fate had been played by many players in this quest. "Surely we would not turn down our kin. What pleasure brings you by our humble fireside?" It would seem that perhaps this meeting could be looked at as a good omen for their quest for the sword, what other reason would the mysterious kin take time to grace them with their presence.
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