RP:Liberation Ch2; Skirmish in the Sewers

Part of the Liberation of Rynvale Arc

LOCATION: Rynvale, The Sewers (Ominous Glow)

This area of the sewer system is considerably brighter than further north, as an odd, eerie aura seems to emanate from a particular part of the wall nearby to you. Upon further inspection you find what appears to be a troll's head thrusting out of the slime-caked brickwork, his ugly features heavily twisted in an enraged snarl. You stumble backwards in fright, but after a moment of silence you realize it is merely a figure of sorts jutting out from the wall, and the end of a pipe spills dirty water from the creature's mouth. The troll bust is crafted purely from green glass and lit from behind by the last remaining shafts of light, which have permeated the sewer via the pipe. However, there is something malevolent about this part of the tunnel - perhaps you should return to the north, unless you dare venture further into the depths by way of east and west. Southward, the tunnel suddenly dips into a steeper passage from which the heavy and constant drip of water can be heard.

Lirithen:: A cry rent through the tunnels, and somewhere above them, the signal flare rocketed through the sky. Lirithen sighed and tightened his grip on the bow in his hands, casting emerald gaze over the organized naga troupe that had been placed under his control, and snorted. The elf disliked the sewers, and disliked the reptilian warriors and archers that had been placed under his control for the purpose of holding the tunnels and ensuring the Fold's escape route was clear, should everything go terribly wrong. The snakes had been organized into a large circular formation in the rough centre of the room, two battle lines forming a ring around Lirithen himself, whom was ready to sling an arrow into either of the four charges carefully set up upon the floor at the mouth of each tunnel, ready to punch a hole into any group that came towards the collective soldiers. The first line, pikemen, the snake-people conveniently bearing the strength and reach needed to wield their poisoned pikes one arms and carry thick shields in the other, so their enemies could be picked off at range, and if things got personal, they could defend themselves whilst chomping their strong jaws and sharp fangs upon any foe foolish enough to get close. The second line, archers, arrows knocked carefully into very large bows, with the steel tips of each projectile aimed carefully to flood whichever route from which an enemy appeared, if they did at all. Also, anticipating the advantage of the darkness beyond this bright tunnel to any who would appear, a few piles of oil-soaked wooden logs were set up at strategic locations around the chamber, ready to burst into bright light and flame were Lirithen to shoot a flame enchanted arrow their way. A sigh slipped from the ranger's lips before spun to address each naga in person as a whole. “This is it, men. Let's make your Queen proud, hmm?”

Splag: As soon as the sound of the flare echoed throughout the sewer tunnels there was a brief burst of miscellaneous sounds, clatterings and shiftings, whispers and growls, as if the entire sewer was awake and looking around, trying to figure out what was happening. Within moments, however, a near-absolute silence descends upon the place, with no sounds except the burbling and tricking of the fetid water underfoot. As the nagas held their position, watching into the dark tunnels beyond their light source, the air of malevolence seemed to increase, as if the sewer itself was glaring at them. Small sounds begin to be heard down the tunnels, light scratches and almost-heard whispers, maybe that was a clink of metal, or is it just in the imagination of the intruders? Without warning a high-pitched series of whistles echoes throughout the tunnels, causing one of the more nervous naga warriors to almost drop his pike into the sludge before catching it. The whistling is repeated from all directions except from down the sloping tunnel to the south, as from multiple throats. A squeaking and rustling precedes a rush of rats, their eyes gleaming with feral hatred. Individually no match for the nagas, in swarms they may prove deadly, as for each cut down or shot down 3 more replace it. Their teeth and claws may only inflict minor wounds, but anyone would fall under dozens of minor wounds. As the rats swarm forward a small flurry of crossbow bolts shoot forth from the darkness, not aimed well, but more than capable of taking advantage of a chink in the defense or a brief moment of distraction.

Lirithen's head snapped in direction of the nearest of the strange noises, instinctively prying an arrow from the quiver on his back and placing it to his bow, turning on his heel to carefully aim between the shoulders toward one of the piles of oil soaked logs. The naga hiss cautiously, some unnerved, others excited at the taste of rat blood in the air. Then all Hell broke loose, and bolts flew towards their position. Lirithen himself was under no immediate threat, but two snakes on the front line had the projectiles collide with and bury into their thick scales, flesh wounds as it were, and grunting in pain they fell back into place, ready to face what may come. One of the second line, however, was most unlucky, and a bolt whizzed directly over the head of the one before him and punched a clean hole through his skull; death was immanent. The fermin descend upon the first line, though at first unable to get very close as they end up skewered upon the ends of the pikes of the snake-people, or else felled by an arrow to the chest, or furry gut. “Hold!” the elf barked at direction of those from the south, who, it was evident to see, were tempted to break position and assist their brothers at their sides, “more may come upon us!”

Splag: Even as the first wave of rats was cut down by the nagas the second wave of chittering furred rodents ran forward, sinking their teeth into anything they could reach - tails, fingers, scales, whatever. And still the small crossbow bolts continued to fly in, although not as quickly as before. On the eastern side the rats separated to the edges of the tunnel, scurrying quickly over the walkways along the sides and the mounds of trash that were heaped along them. Nearly invisbly in the gloom, a couple of oozes had been released into the water, flowing along with the current, just below the surface, toward the intruders. Each of these oozes was essentially harmless in the water unless it contacted flesh or some other edible matter. The ooze would then seek to engulf the victim, excreting extremely caustic acids designed to digest the hapless creature. Once in contact with the victim it was very difficult to remove, as even small amounts left behind after scraping would still attempt to devour them. Only fire was guaranteed to remove them, but that posed nearly as much danger to the victim as the ooze. From the west a few of the younger Fermin, anxious for glory, were unable to resist the lure of battle and rushed forward with the rat swarm. Wielding knives, clubs, rocks, or even just claws and teeth, a half dozen of them charge forward seeking to get in underneath the pike and shield of one of the much larger naga warriors, ganging up on him, biting clawing and stabbing for all their worth.

Arrow after arrow the elf launched upwards, firing nearly blind upon the ratmen on the walkways, though keen elven gaze served him well in spotting the silhouette's outlines and judging where the heart and heads were. Those naga that were unable to stem the tide upon them with their pikes enjoyed a full meal of rat flesh... Or else they were overrun completely, and fell upon the ground, leaving others to fill the line where their companions had died. Soon gaps began to appear in the lines, and it was when the first of the angry rats broke through the burly snakemen and dove upon Lirithen himself that the ranger realized the situation was getting dire. An arrow between the eyes and the rodent fell, twitching and dead. Then he rounded again upon toward the oil-soaked logs, his shot clearer than before thanks to the small holes in the battle line. But what was this, a mild burning sensation upon his abdomen? Glancing down the tree-born yelped in surprise, noting the green ooze upon his torso, eating away at the mithril plating that decorated the male's coat. Desperately he swatted at it, always withdrawing his hands when he felt the acid eating away at his fingertips. He tried using his bow to drive the thing away, but ceased this antic when he noticed that contact caused the wood to blacken, and he need his bow for the coup de grace. A cry of pain ripped from his pale lips as the thing seeped through the tiny hole it had made and began to sear away at the shirt beneath, and in desperation, Lirithen unconsciously channelled energy into his hand, forming a tight fist which bore down upon himself. The line of his knuckles burst into flame as the elemental mana took formation, and the fiery punch sank into the depths of the ranger's own stomach. He grunted in pain, winded by the blow, his knuckles having been scraped across the armoured coats sharp plates... But the slime fell away, melting into nothing and staining the floor with it's poisonous green residue. Relieved, and determined, the ranger turned attention again upon the nearest bundle of logs, noting the desperation of the waning battle lines; they would soon be overrun. An arrow fell into his nimble fingers from the quiver on his shoulder, and he took swift and careful aim. Sparks flew from pale fingertips, dancing across the projectile's wooden shaft 'til they reached the steel head, where they promptly burst into flame, and the arrow was released. It whistled at it flew, sinking dead into the wooden logs with a dull 'thud'. Immediately the oil-soaked bundle burst alight, the flames growing higher and higher, before suddenly shooting off across the thin trail of oil that had been lead towards the nearest of the floor charges. BOOM! Rock, steel and fermin flew through the air, flames rising high before the entrance of the west tunnel, continuing along the flammable trail that lead it towards the second pile of logs, where the flames gained renewed vigor, and danced a fiery trail toward the second charge, and so forth. Lirithen lifted an arm to shield himself from each explosion, a grin finding his lips as the naga troupe was surrounded by a ring of ever-growing flames, effectively cutting off each mouth of the four tunnels, leaving what fermin remained in engagement trapped for the fangs, blades and arrows of the snakemen, whom devoured them hungrily. Lirithen hopped from naga to naga, blazing fists throwing digs here and there as he attempted to free the warriors that faced the plight of the acidic ooze.

Splag :: Sewer gas is highly flammable, as Lirithen and his warriors find out that day. The blast is larger than expected, not only incinerating many of the attacking rats and Fermin but also inflicting structural damage to the sewers and dropping rocks and pieces of pavement down upon the defenders. As the explosion finally draws to a close and the light begins to fade the sewer falls silent again. As their eyes adjust again to the dim light of the sewer tunnels they can hear the sounds of clawed feet in retreat, small splashes in the water that indicate victory, however costly it may be. The malevolent aura of the sewer is still there, but no longer seems imminently hostile. Water continues to spill from the green glass gargoyle's mouth as it appears to glare down at the wounded survivors and their leader.

Lirithen weaved in and out of the falling rocks, spotting naga doing the same from the corner of his eye, though not all to the same degree of effectiveness. Some took large rocks to the shoulder, others had their tails crushed, while one or two took fatal blows to the head. The rumble of the explosions ceases, the Fermin flee in retreat, and Lirithen rose into standing, gazing at the handful of pikemen and archers that remained. A grim frown set into his lips, and he turned to the most burly of the remaining snakes, their captain, whom had been fortunate to survive. “Advance north, to the ladder that took the others topside, and hold the line. It's cramped, and one runs in two ways. Should be easier to hold with...” Another glance around, and another displeased frown. The elf hadn't the heart to finish his sentence, “I must report to Lady Arien, at the mansion,” he continued, shaking soot and dust from his silver hair, “I shall inquire about sending more men down to help fortify this position, though I can promise nothing.” The naga captain grunted, nodded, and ordered his men toward the ladder. Lirithen darted ahead, wincing at the pain in his stomach that flared with each step.