Gambit:Girls Night Out
Bridge to the Void
This bridge is a match to the one at the southern entrance to Larket. Built of stone and metal, it is a masterpiece of structural beauty; it crosses the Vibrance River, the largest river in Hollow, and a great number of supports have been built to keep it safe. The river itself sparkles and glitters in the light and rushes through, creating eddies at the supports. It seems that this river is also the water supply for Larket, as a small aqueduct has been built, taking a small portion of the river for Larket's needs. To the far west is a dense forest, but a road has recently been cleared, the paving stones lined with the trunks of felled trees. To the east is the settlement of Larket.
Cresente watches the river, as he has been paid to do. Times have been rough since Cresente illegally bet all his winnings in the last winter tournament and lost to that scarlet-clad ogre. His goals have only been delayed due to this, but not entirely dismissed. He has a funeral to get to, after all. Tonight, the hired hitman keeps his hand on the trigger of his crossbow, making sure to move with the moons movement so that not a single thread of moonslight falls upon his cloak. With the daily workers having gone home for the night, as humans and the lazier higher breeds tend to do, the area is empty, and eerily liminal. Something is in the air, and it keeps him on high alert to not know what it is, yet.
Lita might have been on the hunt for whatever Rude Guards had inadvertently stabbed Mahri recently. Just because they were on the same side, didn't mean she wouldn't have a few choice words for them. Clad in the usual little black sundress, she's donned the shadowy cloak of a particular guild, making quick work to use the shadows to her advantage tonight. Wouldn't really do much good to have your allies realizing that your motives were entirely opportunistic. She stops short though when catching sight of a familiar little Blackbird. She'd done a bit of research about how to possibly try and get that brand off her ankle, but it all involved ritual sacrifice and killing the creator and that all just seemed so... messy. Dropping someone off a bridge however... wait, she'd tried that once already... all of this while glaring at the back of his head from some yards away. With a huff she steps forward, close enough to offer a slightly reluctant greeting of, "Any trouble tonight?"
Meri is clad from head to toe in black, opting to keep her armor minimal so that her steps remain light and her movement silent. Her boots are made of soft leather that should allow for the more-than-trained Ranger to step quietly through the forest, sleeves are long to hide her tattoos, hands are gloved, and face is concealed beneath a black cap and mask. Further measures of concealment could have been taken, but as much as Meri adores her company there are some secrets she must always play close to the chest. While Meri has company, the lycanthrope keeps a suitable distance between herself and her comrades. They were not here to frolic, arms linked, through the forest. They had a mission and would conduct themselves accordingly…if she got her way. Their approach of the bridge comes from the forest that is to the west, and it would not take long for the lycanthrope’s sensitive sense of smell and hearing to pick up that there are two individuals currently posted at the bridge. It is enough to cause Meri to give pause so that she can signal to Valrae and Khitti that there were someone’s up ahead. As Meri does this, the lycan woman carefully takes her bow in hand, trying to move slow so that she does not draw attention to herself. Next an arrow would be readied. Honestly, the blonde has no shame. She’d ready to take the first shot…all she needs to do is position herself for a clear line to do so.
Valrae || Putting on the red cloak had been a choice. It had felt like becoming a ghost, a long forgotten phantom of herself that had once ran through Larket’s nights on bare feet with magic dripping from her lips seeking to undermine a corrupt crown. Doing so now, with the friends she kept through both lifetimes, felt like a homecoming to her younger and wilder self. Her hair was bound in a long braid, the tamed golden curls shining like a ribbon of starlight down her back in the pale light of the moons. Beneath the cloak of scarlet red, Valrae had worn form fitting armor padded with celestial bronze. She’d made only one effort to disguise herself, and that was the same bandana of red she’d worn over her face the night she’d attempted to take the labor camp back from Larket all those years ago, still stained from her own blood despite laundering. Her boots were tall and laced tight against the chilly fall weather. The emerald crystal skull slept in the holster that had been fashioned to keep it secure to her hip. The forest was shadowed and deep, the crisp cool of Veilora coaxing leaves from green to red and orange and brown to litter the forest floor and make stealth a trickier game. With a whispered spell and the gentle twitch of her wand wielding wrist, this issue was remedied with magic springing to the air so that the trio might pass over the leaf littered ground as silent as a dream. Her steps halt at Meri’s signal and her wand raises. She almost wished for her own bow, though she had no skill for it. The witch definitely wished she’d made herself a potion for the skilled night vision her lycanthropic friend was displaying.
Khitti || Now that the twins were born and safely watched over at home, Khitti had -a lot- of aggression to get out. And what’s the best way to do it? Go wreck things in Larket, of course. Much like her sister, she too was adorned in her usual black: her silk two-piece dress with the mithril plates sandwiched in between the cloth, some soft leather leggings, a long hooded black and blue knit duster, and her well worn leather boots. The hood of the duster could barely contain her wavy wine red hair, even with the loose braid that tried to do just that. She did not want to conceal herself the way Meri and Val had, but she did it for their sake, having taken a kohl pencil to give her face the appearance of a skull. No, she wanted them to know who it was that attacked Larket. She wanted Macon to know it was her. But alas. And much like Valrae, Khitti too had her own crystal skull, this one much smaller and hanging from the belt on her skirt, the grey moonstone glimmering occasionally in the moonlight. Even before Meri gave the signal, a cold chill ran through Khitti’s form, the wave of clairvoyancy stronger thanks to that crystal skull. Someone was here. Someone she knew. She tried to steady her breathing, but her heart ran rampant--first with confusion, then with anger. But, she would wait to summon up her magic when it was time. And the waiting was the worst part.
Round One
Crescente’s 1st Roll: 2 Meri’s Roll: 15 Crescente’s 2nd Roll: 20 Valrae’s Roll: 14 Lita’s Roll: 13 Khitti’s Roll: 18 Totals Larket: 35 Cenril: 47
Cresente flicks a long, tapered ear in Lita’s direction. Whether he was surprised or had heard her coming, his body language gives no indication aside from this as his gaze remains firm on the shadows of the forest. “Hyenas rifling through rubbish. Children breaking curfew for games.” The avian’s words are spoken roughly and quietly, as though the trees themselves were eavesdropping on the nonexistent conversation being had here. The wind suddenly takes a shift, sending a gale eastward instead of north. In that gale is the unmistakable scent of a human. A sixteenth’s turn to the right, far back. Only humans worry themselves with the likes of lye cleansers and perfumes, and the remnants of it were distinct enough to detect. He raises his crossbow in that direction, saying “Intruders.” under his breath for only Lita’s ears. With the passing of clouds above head, Cresente moves through the darkness and into the treeline. Unknowingly putting himself into the line of fire of a certain archer, the avian raises his crossbow and unloads a single shot into the darkness.
Lita is thinking to herself that she needs to stop hanging out with these strong-silent-types. Or was 'hyenas rifling through rubbish' some kind of wartime code? She'd missed a couple meetings. It's fine, probably. She shrugs briefly and crosses her arms over her chest, leaning her weight to one foot. There was something snarky to be said here, she just knew it. But she didn't find it quick enough and before she knew it, the Blackbird was turning towards the trees with just the revelation of "Intruders." Oh? Thanks for sharing. Two? Twelve? As he FLEES THE SCENE. Glad we have a plan. She raises her arms after him, and would have yelled a string of curses at his sudden exit, except if there are intruders, it wouldn't do a lot of good to leave the bridge unattended. There's a lot of grumbling suddenly about having to do things right yourself and she reaches for the dagger tucked into the leather bracer on her left arm. It hums gently against her palm. At least the Blackbird was right about the intruders bit. She can't sense them, either by scent or sound, so she'd assume some sort of magic is in the works. Thankfully that dagger had its own urge to protect its owner, as long as she swung it in the right direction. With the hood of the cloak still covering her face, she ducks into the pool of shadows cast by a nearby large tree, awaiting any persons that might be emerging as a threat.
Meri is able to get that clean angle that she was hoping for. Her sights are very cleanly set on Cresente. It’s likely that she has some awareness of Lita’s presence, but really…would Meri fight Lita? The answer for at least this round is no. The string of the bow is drawn tight and an arrow is released straight for Cresente. The woman clad in black does not even wait to see if her first shot makes its mark, another arrow is retrieved from her quiver, nocked and then released toward Cresente. The pattern will repeat itself until someone manages to give her reason to abandon her current position. The way Meri saw it, moving from her current post would be reckless at best because she had the advantage of concealment in the shadows provided by the trees, distance, and a ranged weapon. It was a deadly mix and she was more than happy to try and turn Cresente into a pincushion. Unfortunately, she’s never interacted with the guy so mercy is not even a line item on her agenda. He picked the wrong side and she’s intent on showing him that.
Valrae || The only warning that Valrae received was the soft wizzing of air around the bolt before it slammed into her shoulder. It pinned her cloak to the thick leather and metal padding of her armor, warping the softer metal of the celestial bronze until the arrowhead found the softness of her skin and caused her to let out a single, sharp cry into the night as she stumbled back. The shock of the moment sent blood rushing into her ears as she moved, ducking under the cover of a thick oak tree to check the damage. She pulled the bolt out through gritted teeth and the huffing whine of breath. She could feel the warmth of her blood making the sleeve of her armor slick and she turned the air blue with a flurry of crusing whispers. It wasn’t deep and she tested her arm’s mobility by pressing her hand against the smooth roundness of the crystal skull. It hummed with mana against her skin, warm and ancient and hungry. So she would feed it. She let her own blood trickle down onto the crystal and strengthen her next spell. Valrae moved quickly again, darting from behind the tree as a hex fell from scowling lips. She aimed it toward the direction of the bolt and light erupted from her ashwand, murky and the red of fresh blood. If it found its target, it would return the favor of her newest wound in kind. Wherever the magic touched, piercing wounds would split skin as if she’d unleashed her own ephemeral and magical arrow. But it was dark, and she was human, and no matter how wide her bolt of magic there was no guarantee that it would find its mark. So she moved again, slipping back behind the cover of a pine.
Khitti || Those shadows that Lita sought out for protection would not come to her aid, as Khitti sensed the vampire slip into them. With a mischievous smirk, Khitti would hold out both hands, each finger fixed in place, as if she were holding the strings of a marionette. But this was not some puppetshow and the thing that Khitti manipulated was the shadows themselves. The darkness would slowly close in around Lita, enveloping her fully, and only then would she start to feel the burn. The shadow magic that came straight from the Shadow Plane had acidic properties, and the longer Lita would stay in there, the more it would eat away at her flesh, the more the darkness itself would threaten to snuff out her life entirely. Much like her sister, Khitti wasn’t playing games and she’d hold her position until it was no longer necessary.
Round Two
Crescente’s 1st Roll: 18 Meri’s Roll: 15 Crescente’s 2nd Roll: 3 Valrae’s Roll: 1 Lita’s Roll: 1 Khitti’s Roll: 11 Totals Larket: 57 Cenril: 74
Cresente smiles, a hint of his sadistic remnants from the wars of millenia past creeping towards the surface. Then suddenly, “Bugger.” He sneers as an arrow slices straight between the gap where pauldron meets vambrace. Well, at least no one is a good enough archer that they can repeat that-- oh, there’s two more through the same gap now. That is now three arrows in his arm. Cresente turns on his heel, shielding his left arm from further blows, and shoots an arrow straight into the direction the arrows came from. Was his assailant not moving? It would be their funeral, then, as Meri also bore no emotional real estate in Cresente’s mind. It is only by coincidence that the bolt that fell into rotation in his repeater was silver-tipped, but such is the way of gods that give some races metal-specific weaknesses and not others. Having been distracted by the unseen archer, Cresente fails to feel the hex taking hold of him until fresh blood has begun trickling from his crossbow wielding arm. Yet, there was no arrow nor bolt in his arm? What sort of fresh trickery was this? Deciding to take this fight to higher ground, Cresente growls aloud and unfurls his wings, using them to propel himself with a single jump into the trees. The rustling extends outwards, hopefully masking his ultimate location to the invisible assailants.
Lita definitely hears the firing of crossbow bolts whizzing through the air, from both sides. Shots fired. Great. None of them seemed to be aimed in her direction though, so she's content to stay put for a moment to try and assess the situation further. That is, until the scent of fresh blood fills the air. Human. Even better. She can't help a particularly toothy grin as she licks her lips. And just her luck, a Little Red Riding Hood emerges from the shadows not some yards away like a proverbial basket of pastries just for her enjoyment. As if that hadn't been enough of a target to offer up, Little Red sends a distress flare of magic into the air, aimed for the trees and the direction in which the Blackbird had flown. Lita squints into the darkness, trying to keep track of where exactly the red clad figure had ducked back into cover. If she could sneak around through the trees and darkness, she could possibly get an advantage here. Great! Despite the Blackbird's lack of help, she has a plan! She's quite proud of this, as planning is not her strong suit. Probably also her downfall as she lingers too long there in the shadows and something bites at her ankle. She swats at it. Ow- what the- A bug, probably. Except her skin literally feels burned. There's a little pop and sizzle and another shadow is slithering across her hand. What the actual- She'd seen shadow magics before. Faced them in a couple of duels, come to think of it. But not like this. The tendrils of shadows are swarming beneath the protective layer of her cloak to bare skin beneath, scorching her skin, leaving her swatting at herself wildly with her bare hand, as if there were suddenly a swarm of angry bees which had been sent to target her. All the thrashing sends her flying out of the shadows and into the open, half stumbling out of the cover of darkness and into the pale streams of moonlight from overhead. At least the shadows have stopp- a crossbow bolt whizzer past, too close for comfort and she ducks, landing on her stomach in the dirt and glaring at the trees where the Blackbird supposedly still was. And firing. Apparently either blindfolded or with his eyes closed! Lita is already sitting duck for the moment, she isn't looking to add being shot to the short list of problems.
Meri :: The scent of Valrae’s blood was lingering heavily in the air, it triggered concern but Meri resisted the urge to help. Not when offering aid could prove more costly to everyone in the long run. No, Meri needed to keep her eyes and ears on Cresente, even if his first shots fired were not at her. His next one would be. Was the cost of staying in place worth it? The outcome of the battle would tell that much. But it does mean that Meri has made herself an easy target for Cresente. If it were not for Meri’s momentary distraction with Valrae’s well-being, the psion might have been able to react in a more timely manner. It would not be the first time that the woman managed to halt an error mid-air before it made it’s mark. Tonight she is not quick enough and the silver bolt embeds itself deep into her shoulder, causing her to howl in pain which makes her location a bit more obvious. The blonde ducks behind a tree and drops her hold on her bow, there was no point in even trying that approach now as the pain in her shoulder rendered it nearly useless. She would not be able to keep her aim clean. With her opposite hand, she grips the bolt in her shoulder and rips it clean out. It would not help alleviate the current pain, but it would stop her from being completely immobilized. Now it was not just Valrae’s blood that was thick in the air. With one arm now useless and having only a general idea that Cresente went in the general direction of up. Meri takes a different approach. The canopy in their immediate area begins to shake, branches begin to creak and protest from the force, and the intensity gradually increases. Meri was trying to use her telekinetic abilities to shake Cresente out of the trees and back down to the ground. If she could impale him with a few large branches during the fall that would be pretty awesome…but the first step is getting the pesky avian on the ground and in sight so that she can do so.
Valrae || Ignored the burning in her arm as she darted through the trees. She was fleet of foot despite her human senses and capabilities, and Larket’s wood had been home in another life. It was a devil she knew, making it easy to leap over the twisted devil’s gut vine that grew freely in the underbrush. Her spell of silent stepping was wearing thin now, she could hear her own foot fall and the way the brush cracked in her wake. If she could hear it, the other creatures that bumped in this night could as well. So, she cursed freely and loudly as she focused on her single minded goal; find the water. Her path wasn’t direct, she didn’t know where Crescente and his arrows were coming from and couldn’t know that he’d taken to the skies for better cover so she stayed underneath the canopy of trees that were made scarce with the coldness of fall. That was, until she was forced to take a path that led her directly in front of where Lita had fallen. Another arrow flew by, kicking up dirt and leaves as it landed with a thud into the earth. There was a moment of hesitation as Valrae stumbed. Lita? In Larket? Did this mean she was allied with them? She could sense Khitti’s magic in the air. The emerald skull at her side hummed, ready for more blood and more magic. Begging her to unleash another spell or curse. But she couldn’t know, so she lowered her wand and sprinted beyond her, heading toward the water.
Khitti || The sound of Meri’s scream triggered something… not good in Khitti’s mind. It didn’t matter that they had gone out there intent on sabotaging the entire region. That triggered “something” only got worse as she witnessed Lita come into view… and soon a bleeding Valrae stumbling in the moonslit area between Khitti and the vampire. The left corner of her lips twitched a little, and so too did her fingers, as her shadows shied away from the light. Similar to Meri, Khitti too switched tactics. Darkly painted lips parted, and a whispered song escaped them, calling to the murdered dead that littered Larket’s earth. “I feel your presence amongst us. You cannot hide in the darkness. Can you hear the rumble? Can you hear the rumble that's calling?” The ground began to quake, matching with her lyrics. The screams of the dead now filled the air. Witches. Non-witches. It mattered not. They would have their revenge. And for now, their ire was focused on Lita. “I know your soul is not tainted. Even though you've been told so. Can you hear the rumble? Can you hear the rumble that's calling?” Spirits would swarm the area, shrieking, growling, grabbing at anything they could get. They would leave Valrae and Meri alone, of course. But not even Cresente, though he still remained hidden from Khitti, wasn’t safe. She was just on the outskirts of the light now, watching. Waiting. Her shadow-based elements crackling and flaring away around her hands.
Round Three
Crescente’s Roll: 7 Meri’s Roll: 16 Lita’s 1st Roll: 2 Valrae’s Roll: 10 Lita’s 2nd Roll: 6 Khitti’s Roll: 14 Totals Larket: 72 Cenril: 114
Cresente knows as soon as he has landed in the trees that he has made a grave mistake. Who the heck are these people? The pressure mounts, and Cresente aims to avoid the infernal magic by moving from bough to bough, but it is no use. Meri’s powers are everywhere, and soon he finds himself flapping his wings against the dying autumn foliage to keep aloft. He can only make feeble attempts from up here to expend his throwing knives and pray to his ancestors that they reach their mark. Feathers and leaves alike begin to rain down from the sky, and through the rumbling that shakes Cresente’s hollow bones to the core, a sound pierces the veil. His eyes go wide, searching for the songstress, and in his distraction, Cresente loses his footing. He lands easily enough, but now he faces a new problem. Where is the archer? Should he kill the archer or seek out the songstress and the familiar red hair that reminds him so much of… Wait, where was this? The sky is shaking, and the worlds are moving under his feet. She never came back from… “Asphodel!” He turns away from Meri and runs towards the singing.
Litawas struggling to push this level of pain from the forefront of her mind. To say that everything hurt was an understatement. The rush of adrenaline helped. Near death experiences tend to do that. The scent of more blood on the air drew her attention. More familiar this time, but she couldn't place the who if it, exactly. She was too distracted. Maybe the Blackbird's? Or maybe she should have assumed that when he said there were Intruders, there were twelve of them after all. The sound of footsteps tugs at her focus this time, giving her something to track, something other than the pain to focus on. She's grateful for that at least and by the time Val makes an appearance ahead of her, Lita is struggling to get up again. The bolt and cloud of dust kicked up between them makes her lift an arm to shield her face and she waves her hand to clear some of it before turning to look again. But Val is moving around her, past her, heading for the bridge and the water. Surely it wasn't Val's magic that had manipulated the shadows, was it? No, she didn't think that was quite the blonde's modus operandi. Scrambling to her feet finally, she turns to sprint after Val. Maybe she'd have a chance to throw someone off a bridge after all. She'd have to go to of course, but that was fine. She could hold Val under the water for as long as it took. Perk of being a vampire, she didn't need to breathe exactly. She just needed to make sure this witch didn't float... Or was she just trying to protect Val from the acid shadowy-magics? Plausible deniability... Well, it's been said that Lita's not so good at the planning thing. Never mind that her plans are currently being thwarted by a sudden uprising and second coming of ghoulish nightmares that only a necromancer could deem to enjoy for sport. She's not one to usually believe in the likes of souls and such, but the little whisper-demons suddenly grasping at her clothes and hair would serve a pretty good reason to revisit her belief system. She flails her arms at them, falling a few steps behind Val now and legitimately looks like she's just trying to flee the scene of horror at this point, because she is, rather than actually attack the blonde. The fact that she's also swinging that dagger around wildly at the same time... well, can you stab a ghost? She's no idea, but she's trying.
Meri :: With Meri already employing her psionic abilities, it was far easier to feel those daggers cutting through the air then when she was struck with that silver bolt. Which means that this time Meri is able to avoid the attack. The daggers are given a little telekinetic nudge so that they veer off course from their intended target and embed themselves in the trunk of the tree that Meri is taking cover behind. They won’t be there for long. Meri steps out from behind the safety of the tree so that she can rip the blades from the trunk. The first dagger is thrown toward Cresente, ripping through the air…a bit too fast for that throw to not be controlled by Meri’s psionic abilities. A second throwing knife will follow, chased by…however many knives Cresente initially threw at Meri. Unfortunately for the birdman, Meri is feeling a bit salty about the injury she did sustain. Silver? Really? The injury hurt and it meant that Meri was not healing as rapidly as she would if that shot came from a non-silver arrow. If they did not gain the upper hand in this battle fast, the results could be deadly for her. Maybe Valrae? With all of this in mind, once Meri is done turning Cresente’s own weapon against him, her quiver full of arrows begins to levitate in the arrow in front of her long enough for all of the arrows inside to be grasped by Meri’s sinister mind powers. Soon all of those are levitating in front of Meri, rapidly forming a wall of arrows that will chase after Cresente. Yes, Cresente is running toward Khitti but no Meri is not going to let her own sister get stabbed. Not unless Khitti manages to do something really reckless. Which…she does do occasionally.
Valrae’s braid snapped behind her like the tail of a comet, silver in the moon’s light. She could hear Lita gaining on her in the dark, even over the sound of her own heart pumping in her ears. Was she running after her? There was no way for her to outpace a Vampire, no matter how quickly she ran. Panic bubbled up, crowding her throat with each ragged breath as she turned on her heel. Her wand arced up as she turned, a spell springing to the air and making it thick with magic. The skull gleamed meanly underneath a flash of Valaane’s light as her cloak flew around her like blood spreading through water. But Lita had fallen behind. She heard more arrows now, though she could no longer see Meri or the mystery assailant that had shot her. She could hear Khitti’s voice now, loud and lyrical as the pulsed out through the cold night and heralded spirits beyond the veil. Their wailing darkness pressed against her despite not being a target, setting her teeth on edge and sending goosebumps over her arms, even the one aching and warm from her own blood. She didn’t hesitate again. She trusted Khitti, which made Lita an enemy. She couldn’t afford to let her follow and so she unleashed the spell in a shouting word. The magic bloomed like a spiral from the tip of her ashwand, a burst of blue green as she summoned Selene’s holy light. It moved like a tidal rush of water, a wave to roll over the vampire and splash about in pools on the ground behind Valrae as she turned again and fled. Her chest ached with effort as she finally, sweetly, neared the edge of the river that supply Larket with fresh and clean river water. She could smell the crispness of the Vibrance, the coppery tang of her own blood, and the rich earthy mud of the river bank as her boots sank into it. Shaking with effort and adrenaline, the witch pulled a small glass vial from her pocket. She might have uncorked it and dropped the poison into it then, if her clumsy hands hadn't dropped it into the mud. Valrae cursed, falling onto her hands and knees to search for it in the dark.
Khitti was almost lulled into a short stretch of dissociation, as she sang, and as the spirits attacked Lita and the ground threatened to break beneath Cresente’s feet. The shrieks of vengeance were like music to her ears and she melted into it as she lurked still just beyond the light’s reach. That is, until Cresente shouted that name. It wasn’t the name itself, per se, but the voice. The tone. The articulation. That ever-present air of ‘I’m better than you’ that always seemed to cling to the avian’s words, no matter what he said. That familiar sinking feeling she and Khitt felt thanks to their clairvoyance ability was happening now, but it felt so much worse. “You…?” Quiet, sad confusion clung to that one word. The distraction was enough that Lita was able to pursue Valrae. The other witch’s own burst of magic shook her from her stupor. “YOU.” The word was stern, angry. Violent. He knew. He knew she and Khitt were witches and he still chose to side with Larket anyway. Even if he did stab her now, she wouldn’t feel it. But no. It didn’t matter. She would deal with him later. Meri could handle him, as she had done so far, and so now she must turn her attention back to Lita. The spirits dissipated, and shadowy tendrils popped up from the ground, aiming to grab the vampire’s appendages and hold her in place as grey-tinted ice snaked along the redhead’s fingertips, creating long, icy nails. “She won’t be taken from me again. Not by you and not by anyone else.” Khitti stomped her way over to where Lita had last found herself amidst her interaction with Valrae, the ice claws coming out as Khitti tried to slice and dice her way through Lita.
Round Four - Winner: Cenril
Crescente’s Roll: 14 Meri’s Roll: 18 Lita’s 1st Roll: 18 Valrae’s Roll: 17 Lita’s 2nd Roll: 15 Khitti’s Roll: 6 Totals Larket: 119 Cenril: 155
Cresente is not here right now. He is in another lifetime where this person he longs to see again has not disappeared completely. These are no longer the pine trees of Larket, but the unique trees that can only survive on the cities in the sky. There was still time! “Asphodel!” He sees the garnet locks through the moonslight that falls through the trees, and his heart skips a beat. He is not too late! “My love, Armantium has been sabotaged, we need to…” He sees her eyes. Not the onyx pools of infinite patience that belonged to Asphodel, but the betrayed green fury of the one that is alive now. Cresente is snapped back to reality as Khitti’s single accusatory word breaks through the chaos of the night. He was wearing Larketian robes. Cresente had intended to never see the witch again and hope for the best, but this was worse. So caught in his own mind, Cresente fails to realise the barrage of daggers Meri has thrown his way. How was he ever supposed to win this fight when he could not even win Aspohdel’s forgiveness in the end? He snarls in pain as the daggers make their mark on his wings and through the metal plates beneath his robes. No, he deserved this. He deserved far worse. He grits his teeth as the taste of iron permeates his mouth. Meri had hit something important. As good as the money was, he could not call for reinforcements here, not on Khitti. Cresente looks away as Khitti focuses her newfound fury on Lita, and shamefully retreats into the night to have his wound treated. The witches could do as they pleased.
Lita is too distracted by the spirits and ghouls to try and focus on Val pointing magical wands in her direction. Though that would have been enough to stop her dead in her tracks. Magic in general, still sent a panic through her. Even more so when being used against her. A rush of blue-green light has her brain stuttering and then there's a sudden rush of water. Had she gone over the bridge without realizing it? She sputters in the sudden water, muffling the curses on her lips. The only thing to save her brain from spiraling is the fact that her feet are still dry- and still on solid ground- thanks to the little charm anklet she wears. Her toes flex against the damp earth and she sinks to the ground on one knee as the wave continues over her, sinking her fingers into the ground with sudden force, burying her hands up to her wrists and using the leverage to keep herself from being washed farther away from the bridge. By the time the water recedes into little pools around her, her shoulders are heaving, her annoyance quickly rolling into anger now. Wet curls cling to her temples and cheeks, dark streaks against alabaster skin in the moonlight, her clothes drenched. She pulls her hands from the ground and shakes the dirt off. She'd probably be nursing a broken finger or two after that stunt, but she'd deal with that later. Val was at the water's edge with a vial of something sinister and she might just have this one last ditch effort to stop her. She might have, if she had noticed a Khitti coming up behind her. Thankfully, the dagger Trix had made had a tendency to drive itself to protect its wielder, so as Lita lifted it with every intent on chucking it towards Little Red Witchy Hood over there, the dagger instead slings itself backwards, redirecting that energy and aiming for Khitti. Lita turns over her shoulder, entirely surprised to find the woman there at all. Whether the dagger meets flesh or is stopped and falls to the groud, she makes a point to sacrifice a moment and a few steps to reach to retrieve it, brandishing a cheshire grin up at the woman. "Excuse me doll, I'm just gonna..." and then she's out, turning back towards the bridge and using that preternatural speed to sprint towards Val once more. Too little too late it seems, but luckily Val's braid is some astronomical beacon and easily seen in the darkness. Lita reaches for it mid-stride, aiming to pull Val off balance and send her careening into the waters below that she'd just messed with. The how, exactly, would yet remain to be seen (though she could guess). Though gratifying, she doesn't wait to see the aftermath, just keeps running. She'd need to get the word spread about what had happened, so the city could do some damage control and quickly. She'd have to hope the Blackbird could find his way to safety, and find someone who could help with whatever this poison was. Or at least lay low a while until it healed.
Meri was half tempted to let rage consume her, so give chase after Cresente to make sure the job is finished properly so that he could not support Larket again. Before Meri gives into that poor idea, she catches Lita taking further action against Valrae and Khitti in her peripheral vision. It is enough to bring Meri back into the moment, to give her the realization that she should not abandon her comrades. With Lita and Cresente on the retreat, Meri removes the glove of one hand and presses her fingers to her lips so that she can release a high-pitched and shrill whistle. It was meant to be a signal to whatever reinforcements they had nearby. How many people did they have as back up? That was a great question, one that Lita and Cresente would likely not stick around to have answered fully. It would not be long before another team of three armor-clad individuals come into sight, and a forth that is dressed in more down-to-earth clothing suggesting that they might be some sort of field medic. The woman that was just pushed into the poisoned water was the first point of concern for said field medic. That was their Mayor, afterall. “We are going to need more reinforcements than this if we expect to keep this spot held,” Meri says through gritted teeth, “But first thing is first. The Mayor has been injured.” So was Meri. So was Khitti. They would have to act quickly if they wanted to keep the water supply withheld.
Valrae || Sound falls away from her as panic threatens to shut her down, makes her vision blur as she searches desperately for the poison. She doesn’t hear Khitti, she doesn’t hear Meri, she doesn’t hear the thunder of reinforcements riding in like a calvary to hold the water supply. All she can hear is the sound of her own ragged breathing and the wet squish of mud. When she finds the vial glinting in the moon's light and snatches it up with muddy fingers, a small trill of success passes her lips and turns to a puffy cloud of vapor in the cold air. Her excitement doesn’t last long. She can hear Lita’s approach but it’s too fast. She isn’t human, she’s something darker and far worse. The witch doesn’t even have time to turn around. It’s too late, the vampire is upon her and there is a sharp ache in the back of her skull as she’s pulled by her own hair into the water. Valrae doesn’t even have time to curse as the cold current of the Vibrance swallows her. The world is dark and cold and spinning. There is panic but it doesn’t last long, the witch grew on the shores of Cenril and was no stranger to water or treacherous currents. She kicked out with her legs, still gripping the vial of poison in her hand tightly as she prayed the cork held long enough to pull herself out before the magical potion unleashed its wrath upon the icy water. She fought the current, let it drag her down and sideways before pushing up and up. Her head breaks water, she gasps her first breath of cold autumn air and feels it burn her lungs. She made short work of climbing out, crawling through the mud gasping. The cork had held, so she had to turn and empty it in the river now and quickly. Her cloak clung to her, weighed her down as she emptied the clear vial and watched as it bloomed as red as wine into the water. It was unfit to drink now, soiled visibly as a kindness to keep unwary citizens from the deadly effects of boils and plague that it now harbored. She was shaking when help arrived, still bloody from Crescente’s arrow, but otherwise unharmed if soaked to the bone and in danger of catching a cold. She shrugged away the healers and made sure to check in with both Meri and Khitti before briefing with her generals. They were to hold the supply until the threat of losses to their numbers were greater than the desire to dry Larket out.
Khitti was seeing red. And yet, there were tears in her eyes? Some amount of emotion from Khitt’s side of their shared mind was bubbling over into hers, mixing disappointment with that rage. She was swinging wildly at the vampire and missing all her swipes. In her fury, Lita noticed her. And so did the vampire’s dagger, despite Lita’s intentions of harming Valrae instead. The dagger found home in Khitti’s chest with a thud, just enough to the side to miss her heart, though it did pierce a lung. And the weapon would leave just as quickly, a sickening, bloody squelch accompanying it in its wake, as Lita pried it from Khitti’s torso and went about her way to shove Val into the toxic water below. The twilight witch drew in a breath to call out to Lita to tell her to stop, but alas. All Khitti was gifted with was blood entering the hole in her lung and the subsequent bloody coughing that always came with that sort of injury. The red haze of fury began to lift from her eyes, the adrenaline fading finally, and she did her best to collapse beneath the nearest tree, using its trunk to keep her upright, lest she choke on her own blood, and awaited the hopefully soon-to-be-arriving reinforcements.