RP:Niawtu Kidnapping 2

From HollowWiki

Background

After Ranok loses the battle to Grothus, Niawtu is taken by the orc, Grothus, and carried away to Gualon. Niawtu was under the impression that she would be eaten, only to find that she is wrong.


You Mine Now, Smell Like Dog, I Call You Dog

Grothus said to Belphesius, "Me sell to you, you use in juju magic. You make Grothus strong! Grothus crush elves and humans!"

Belphesius snarls in approval to Grothus' proposal. Leaning in to whisper hushed words to him. Belphesius whispered something to Grothus.

Niawtu looks back and forth between the orcs, whatever they were speaking about she couldn't hear. However the lycan child didn't like how it seemed. Sighing in frustration, a light cloud of mist comes forth, like a cloud of frost.

Grothus walks over to the child, and attempts to punch her as hard as he can in the gut. One order of tears, on the way.

Belphesius looked at you.

Niawtu sees the punch coming for her and quickly pivots on her good ankle. Even with the orcs speed she was still a child, and children are generally a bit swifter. However, her defenses are completely open now, being that she knows nothing of fighting.

Grothus misses, but then tries to snatch the runt by her hair in a vicious manner. If he succeeds, he will dangle the girl by her scalp to cause great pain.

Belphesius sits idly by, looking impatient in response to the Orc's unsuccessful strike.

Niawtu, thinking herself smart, quite suddenly and unexpectedly finds herself grabbed back by her snowy white hair, directly in between the ears. She soon releases a high pitched, banshee-like, shriek of pain and shouts "Let go of me!" Realizing soon after that she had accidentally spoken common tongue. It was not that she could never understand it but simply that she was so great of a little actress that she pretended she couldn't speak much of it or understand it. But now it was out that the child could speak, and worst of all, found out by orcs who wished only to harm her. But it didn't matter, she thought, she probably would be dead soon, anyways.

Belphesius throws Grothus another impatient look.

Grothus brings the blade to the child's throat and says. “Now, cry, or I kill you."

Niawtu yips as the cold blade is pulled up to her throat, and indeed, she does cry. Though not like normal children, she cries silently and the tears that fall are ice cold. But nevertheless they are still tears.

Belphesius directs a glance toward Fadje, offering only a grunt in her direction before returning his attention toward the shaman's client. "You not very good at this."

Belphesius reaches out with a small vial, catching the lycan's tears within the flask.

Belphesius tosses a small wooden bowl and a ritual knife toward Grothus, "Now get flesh, put in bowl. Any flesh good flesh."

Grothus does not hesitate; he runs the blade down the child's arm, the serrated blade more than capable of ripping flesh off, should she not manage some means of escape.

Niawtu senses that the orc is going to try and slice her arm, that’s when she swiftly pulls away and says, in a begging manner, "Wait! I... I have injury on ankle." She says, voice rough from disuse of common tongue. "Take from there!" she offers, her thought being that if they cut her ankle it will make little difference already being injured. There were bandages and a few stitches, but it was still a pretty fresh wound and she would choose to have her arms be in use any day.

Grothus does not hesitate then; the orc reaches down with his hand and tears into the injured flesh of the child with his jagged fingernails.

Niawtu flinches but does not make a sound, for the orcs hadn't know that she had all but killed that skin from being caught in a snare trap and using her frost abilities to numb the pain. Her nerves there were mostly shot.

Belphesius grins through a tusky maw as the flesh is torn from the lycan, rubbing his knobby hands together.

Belphesius said to Grothus, "Give me the flesh, and I will grant you the power you seek."

Grothus walks over to the shaman, dragging the girl by her hair, and hands the other orc the flesh. The orc keeps a tight hold of the girl for now, eager to receive his reward.

Niawtu limps along beside Grothus, trying her hardest to keep up so that there is less pull on her hair.

Belphesius takes the offered flesh, setting it upon the table next to the flask of tears. A rough thumb is suddenly thrust into the wound of the restrained girl, grinding it a bit until blood flows out onto his flesh. The thumb is then drug over his forehead before his tongue extends to lick the remainder from his flesh. Low chants emerge from deep within the voodoo shaman, dark incantations as he sends his praise to the gods. The blood drips slowly down his face as growling words rise to the heavens. Stillness comes about the air as a brilliant light surrounds the Shaman's rugged hands. The enchanted appendages take up the ritual knife, slicing and dicing the flesh into tiny pieces before sprinkling them into a mortar; the tears follow shortly after, poured into the stone vessel. Belphesius takes up the pestle and begins grinding the mixture into a creamy mash, spitting out a bit of the blood left residual on his tongue into the mixture. Words continue to spill from his tusky maw as the mixture begins taking on a similar glow as that of his hands. Finally, the Shaman raises the mixture upward with both hands, mystic verses growing low and quiet as he slowly lowers the cup to the table.

Grothus watches all this go down.

Belphesius hands the mystic concoction to the other Orc, "Take this and eat it quickly, before the power fades."

Grothus does not hesitate; he takes the offering and downs it with little regard to the ingredients. In one foul gulp it is downed, and the warrior says. “Now Grothus strong?"

Grothus ate a Flesh of the Innocent.

Grothus drank Tears of the Innocent.

Grothus looked at you.

Belphesius said to Grothus, "Relax yourself, feel the magic in your gut. It will wash over you like a steamy shower. The dog woman's power will fill you... it should last many moons."

Belphesius looked at you.

Niawtu recalls her feisty nature and growls a bit loudly "Hey, orc! I'm no dog! So quit calling me that!" she then points an icy glare right into his eyes, despite the foul position that she is in.

Grothus doesn't feel too much right now, but in the land of the orc's shamans were respected for their magical abilities. And Belphesius wasn't the average shaman either. With his newfound powers brewing within him, Grothus yanks Niawtu forth, sending the child towards Belphesius as he says. “Take child, do as want. I go kill elf, bring skull for juju magic."

Belphesius takes a firm grasp upon the slave’s chains, tight grip pulling upon the restraints as he attempts to drag the small lycan closer to himself. "You mine now, smell like dog, I call you dog. We go now... plans for you."

Niawtu yips as she is thrust forward, attempting to hold her place, however her ankles injury doesn't allow such hopes.

Niawtu growls and tries to pull back from the shaman, she would not go back to being any kind of slave.

Belphesius walks to the barman, holding the lycan's chains all the while within his powerful grasp; a few words are exchanged before Grargh hands over a length of rough hemp rope from behind the bar. Belphesius returns to the lycan and attempts to securely tie her hands and feet together, leaving her in no position to resist.

Niawtu squirms very much as he bounds her limbs and yips in pain as he ties her feet together, because of the wound. However she begins to find herself suddenly feeling too weak to fight back. What was that odd draining sensation? Surely that magic couldn't have worked so quickly. But the child feels no wish to try and fight back. The draining feeling had taken its toll on the scrawny child.

Belphesius completes the process of securing his new slave; she was a handful for such a small creature. Hoisting her up onto his shoulder, the Orc loops his hands under her chest and starts carrying her off to where his plans may come into fruition.

Niawtu growls slightly as she is lifted up, however there is nothing she can do in such a condition.

Belphesius removes a small bit of powder from his juju bag, sprinkling it over her face; hopefully the powder would do its work quickly and put the small creature into a deep slumber.

Niawtu slightly sneezes as the orc sprinkles the magic powder over her face. Quite quickly she cannot feign sleep. Her icy eyes begin to grow heavy and her eyelids drop shut. She was so tired from lack of sleep that it hadn't taken much time.


Zees is reedeeculouz...

Ranok leads the group into Gualon at a slower pace. It did no one any good to charge in, yelling and galloping. He halts the group at the first hitching post he sees and orders a dismount. As he hops off, he turns and gathers the pack off the back of the horse. The pack contained the things he brought, had made, or found in the short time available to prepare and mount this rescue. A few words to the group, 'Act kasual', which was funny in reality, but its humor would be somewhat belayed by the seriousness of the situation. After everyone had dismounted and taken what they needed, a minute to hide the weapons and gear into blankets and whatnot is spent. Once complete, it looked like a group of travelers were in town, simply walking about with their pet wolf (Brina in feral form). Ranok was the only one who was of any note. That armor of his was impossible to hide. However, the way he carried himself he strutted like a knight, his armor gleamed. He was, to all eyes, a Paladin. A Knight of importance. He was interesting, but suspicious? Far from it. He strode like he had purpose and intent. And he hoped the rest of the group followed like companions. A ranger to lead the way (Bainwen), the cook (Angelo), the grizzled weapons master (Ganjimu), and Brina. He would have Brina continue to follow the scent of Niawtu towards the bar where Niawtu is being kept. The sign would be noted, of course. Not breaking any stride, he enters the establishment openly, like any man who was thirsty and wanted a drink from the bar would. As he came in, he would say, "Bar keep! Get me a tall one!" His accent was much mitigated. As though he was putting effort forwards to hide it. Every bit of him was just a guy who was tired and wanted a drink, knight or not. He was even complete with the dust of the road on his boots and the fine sheen over the armor as he scuffs his boots to kick up clouds on his way through town. And that was how he would enter the room where his goal laid. Without guile, a pack on his back containing all his weapons and preparations, save a sword (which no respectable knight would be without), and the group following him.

Belphesius looks toward the large group of strange travelers, sniffing the air as they make an entrance. Most of the Orcs within the tavern offer snarls and grunts toward the newcomers. Two elves, a human, and two who had that same dog person smell that the young girl had. The xenophobic shaman glared warily at the unknown group, not the typical creatures that frequent such an establishment, though as they seemed to pay him little attention, he moved to make his exit to the south, the newly acquired slave girl already hoisted securely upon his shoulder.

Ranok spots what he came for on the Orc's shoulder. He gives rest of the group a subtle nod. It was clear: Intercept the orc and distract him if possible. The man himself busies himself with immediately causing a ruckus, giving a loud greeting to the whole room and going up to the barman like he owned the place.

Brina had at first seemed content to beg for scraps but, with a hint from Ranok, she moves over to inspect the floor by Belph's feet. She'd either be kicked, likely, or perhaps mess his footing up a bit. The wolf was large and covered in golden brown fur that seemed a bit long. Like most of her kind Brina was large and she, oddly, looked particularly capable of getting business done.

Ganjimu was told to act 'grizzled' during the trip to Gualon. It took four or five times to explain the meaning of the word, but, once it was defined, the idea fit. Between the eye patch, the shredded clothes, and the whole facial scar thing, the look is there. Too bad the moment the elf talks, his appearance is wasted. Ganjimu was even asked not to talk unless something bad happened, 'just in case.' In all honesty, Ranok was probably just tired of hearing incessant chatter all the way here, even after the cuffs were applied. Ganjimu played his part well, however, as his good eye scans the room, like any grizzled warrior would do in a new area, spotting the large number of orcs, smelling the pungent ales and incense, and even spying a spooky-looking orc sneaking around with a child over the shoulder. A nudge is all it takes to put the elf on guard, keeping his eye on the escapee as he begins weaving through the orcs pretending to look for a table, building up a good magical charge in his hands as he moves.

Angelo seemed to pace back and forth between the door, taking out a piece of paper and scribbling furiously; his accent was short of ridiculous and thick, speaking in an unknown and flowing language; it was, in actuality, a long series of nonsensical ingredients for an incredibly nasty cake. But he was told to act like a cook, so he'd act like one. He went up to Bainwen (who had stood near the door as well, acting akin to an elven ranger with her duties having been finished after escorting the group to the bar), and barked a few harsh words at her. She returned them in kind, Angelo rolling his eyes while he scribbled down a few more notes on the paper for his order. "Zees is reedeeculouz..." He stood just in front of the door, barring the entry (or exit) of any patrons unless forced out of the way due to his incessant rambling.

Belphesius continues watching the crowd as the animal approaches his feet, the aroma of the creature already giving away that it's similar to the dog child in nature. Not wishing to take any chances with the unknown and chaotic group, the shaman lifts a massive foot in swift attempt to meet the interfering dog's gut, then quickly moving out of the southern exit

Brina was hit hard in the gut. She didn't even really have to pretend to be hurt because, hell, it did hurt. His kick tossed the large beast a good distance considering, for the first time, where Brina whined about being too thin, and knocked into a table of particularly ill-tempered looking orcs. She whined and prayed to whatever god was up there that she didn't change, naked, in front of all these people.

Ranok can see everything going whoosh. Like, flying by and waving merrily. The orc with the girl (who wasn't the orc he came to kill) was sneaking away; he seemed to notice Brina and even now was heading out the door...options were running out. So he did the one thing he had available to him. He started a bar room fight, an irresistible spectacle to ANY war like species, never mind an Orc. He roars to the closest specimen, "What did you say about my mother?! She was a saint!" And lets fly with a pretty brutal left hook. He put enough of the sauce behind the blow to draw blood, further adding fuel to the flames. If Belphesius was still leaving, the offered show of blood sport not enough, Ranok could kick his unfortunate opponent the escaping orc's way, to get him tangled up in a bunch of limbs, cursing, and fists. The rest of the room would begin hooting and hollering, as they tend to do during fights. No weapons were drawn, so they wouldn't feel the need to step in and instead would opt to watch the show. Ranok had the same idea!

Belphesius is an Orc, but he's an Orc Shaman. He is interested in bar fights as any other orc, but his task for the tribe is of a higher order, he has a specific task in mind for his newly acquired slave, and is extremely xenophobic. Thus why he doesn't really know that she is a lycan and calls her a "dog girl" because she smells like a dog human mix to him.

Ganjimu is almost squashed as the orcs begin moving and crowding to watch Ranok's big fighting spectacle. Some days, it sucks to be a short lean fighter. Like when surrounded by walls of muscles and body odor. You know, like right now. With a genuine look of disgust, the elf bobs and weaves through the throng of orcs just itching to either watch the brawl or join it. Ganjimu, on the other hand, was in no way excited to get into a fist fight with orcs. As he ducks and weaves, he makes sure to keep moving towards the back exit. With all the focus on the odd chef and blatant warrior, the short elf who doesn't talk can all but vanish in the sea of orcs. It doesn't matter, though, as the prey begins his escape. The elf mutters a curse and starts to get a little more animated. A single elbow flies, hitting a poor onlooker square in the face, dazing him just long enough to be moved and cajoled in a mock fight. As he... or she, maybe, hard to say, to the elf, begins recovering. Ganjimu plants his feet on his opponents' chest, looks like he's horrified, and leaps away from the poor prop, creating a strong illusion of being thrown. With a crash, he hits the south wall, near the door, but not within reach of his target. Yet.

Angelo squealed in mock terror, covering his head and dropping his piece of paper. An orc has now taken residence up near the north entrance, screaming and cajoling the brawl into action. He slips around and taps Bainwen on the shoulder, ducking and weaving through the crowd as he continues to squeak, saying such things as, "Zis iz not accepteeble! Ziz iz no kondition for ze cook! I can't work like zis!" And other such drivel. He quickly moves towards the southern exit, Bainwen having got caught up in avoiding a few stray blows that had gone her way, expertly bringing her foot around in a kick to the offending attacker. Angelo, meanwhile, had reached the south entrance and began panting in the doorway, hands at the ready all the while; through his dark scraggly hair he observed the target, still mock-panting.

Belphesius takes note of the aforementioned chaotic group, now even more chaotic than previously observed. Just as the dog slams with a crash after the unceremonious kick to the gut, the human seems to have started a fight for no apparent reason. Various Orcs stand from their seats and bum rush the human, each of them some 230 lbs and standing amid five feet in height. The human kicks one of these Orcs square in the chest, knocking him backward as the elf stumbles toward the southern door, off balance on large muscular legs he trips over the fallen dog and lands at Belphesius feet. Surprised by the sudden onslaught within the tavern, Belphesius tightens the grip upon his prize and takes a step backward. It seems just as this step is taken, one of the elves is thrown via consequence of the bar fight and lands near him on the southern wall. Not wanting any further distractions from his plans, the Orc continues outward through the southern door and into the night.

Ranok was leading the orc he was fighting on a little. He was a very good fighter, sober, and big. His opponent was drunk, got hit on the head completely out of the blue, was just an average every day orc who relied on strength rather than skill, and was drunk. It was simple to make a good show. But the entire point of it seemed to be empty. The intended purpose has apparently failed. Dammit. Without further ado, Ranok would finish the fight. A cross to the gut, lowering the man's guard a little, another hook to the head, and then a knee, right where every man prays he never gets hit. The orc goes down. Putting on his best glare to hopefully discourage other attackers...which it didn't. So Ranok relied on his size and strength to bull his way through the crowd, heading after the departing Belphesius, leaving a very angry room behind. A hasty retreat was highly recommended. Brina keeps pace with the man when he breaks free of the group. The others in the room would have to break free or hold the rear while he caught up to Belphesius. As he moves, out comes a crossbow from the bundle off the back and gets cocked. It wasn't exactly subtle. But it was quiet. The crossbow, at least. Ranok uses his hand to yank the string back, not the crank. The sound of his passage would be heard, but not the crossbow...until he was looked at. At which point it would be leveled. He accomplishes this in a smooth and practiced motion. From exit out of the doorway to leveled crossbow, a mere forty or so seconds would have passed. The likely outcome for Belphesius would be to slit the girl's neck, however, Ranok would bark a short command, "Stop. It's not wise to do that. I just would like a talk." It wasn't a lie. And the wisdom of angering a man who's got a crossbow leveled at you or very near completing doing so is questionable. Hopefully even an Orc would see that. For now, a talk was what was requested, and who doesn't have time for a nice chat?

Belphesius continued on his directed course, eyes still darting about the room as chaos grows increasingly evident, finally after multiple attempts to reach the door he finally reaches the southern portal. A lycan seems to be partially blocking the door, though not particularly guarding it, the dog person in his way was pushed past via assistance of the Orc's massive muscular frame, the naturally greasy nature of the Orc making him rather difficult to grab should the lycan attempt ot do so. Finally emerging from the unruly tavern, the Orc backs away slowly, wondering what that commotion was about exactly though it seems only moments transpire before the human seems to have suddenly burst into a flurry, downing multiple attackers and drawing forth a crossbow in Belphesius' direction as he too emerges from the grogshop. Several of his companions in tow before the portal suddenly seals with a magical icy barrier. The ritual knife is drawn up instantly to the slaves throat with his right hand and his left reaching back to grind his thumb once again slightly into her wounded ankle, not enough to wake her, but enough to restore a slight trickle of blood from the wound. He had heard of some girl being kidnapped from Kelay, and figured this girl was such a victim, now is assumptions had been proven as the strangers seem to be targeting him directly. The Orc Shaman alters the slave’s position a bit to act as a human shield while the skilled human fighter was offered only a growl. The Orc began growling through mystic verse in his native tongue, though these prayers to his gods would likely only sound as guttural snarls to the foreigners. He offered no words in common tongue toward the strangers, his demeanor serving as an obvious sign of his intentions.

Niawtu groans slightly as the orc digs his finger into her wound. ears twitching very lightly as she sleeps, blissfully unaware of what is happening. As the orc shifts her around one would hear her mumble the name "Ranok". Whether the orc knew the name or not was beknownst to her, and it didn't matter in the least being that she was merely sleep talking.

Ranok has plenty of orc to aim for. Niawtu was a small girl and Belphesius was a full grown orc...and Ranok's aim was steady. The crossbow holds steady. Like it grew out of his hand. He holds a gaze that's cold and calculating. He knew that some magic of some sort was being called up. But what? The bundle at his back flaps loosely in the wind from the hurried yanking of the crossbow out. The bolt on the crossbow wasn't just a normal one, it was a hollow tipped affair. Poison laid in the tip. But there would be no way to tell that from just looking at it. The little number was provided at great expense from the Preklek Kreel. A number of things mixed in. Nightshade for its toxicity, eventually killing, the paralytic from the great spiders in the swamps to hold the target rapidly, and a herb used for pain relief, to make it all blissful and the target wistfully uncaring that they could slowly draw less and less breath. Ranok utters one final warning, "Hy kan schoot faster den hyu kan kast! De gurl dies hyu die!" A hostage was only useful alive, after all. Once dead, there wouldn't be anything stopping Ranok from firing, or those he brought along from ganging up on Belphesius. As Niawtu was just a small thing, and the range which Ranok has closed, the powerful crossbow would rip through her and tag Belph even if he missed the shot he was preparing to take. If Belphesius did not halt his arcane casting by the time Ranok finished breathing his words, the trigger would be pulled and the laden dart would be flung outwards. His aim would not be at the body core, but the legs of the Orc, where Niawtu's small body couldn't cover without Belphesius compromising other body parts, and presumably protecting the body core and his head instead of the legs. After all, what Orc fears a bolt through the legs? Most could yank it out and laugh off the wound. Belph's legs were covered by the girl, then another target would be picked. Ranok could change aim faster than the girl could be shifted. If B Ranok's firing is betrayed by nothing in his body. The end swings slightly and then the click, the would be flying far, far too fast to even see before it sunk into its eventual destination. As for Brina, she seems to have recovered from the kick and bounds off out of the line of sight from Ranok, probably to get a better angle in order to leap at the Orc. Should Belphesius be hit by the bolt, he would feel the effects of the toxin nearly right away. The dose was concentrated to take out an Orc with efficiency, though not immediate deadliness. It would be a choice. Drop the girl and try to escape or negate the poison, or cling to her in death. Ranok very obviously just wanted the girl, not blood, as signaled by his attempt at guile before bloodshed.

Ganjimu may have gotten lost trying to find his way around the bar. Luckily, he found his way eventually, and rounds the corner to see the standoff, right where he left it. "Oh, good, I didn't miss anything." He mutters as he keeps his distance. There was still a hostage to deal with. Any stupid moves would jeopardize her safety. Instead, the elf pulls a knife from his coat and holds, ready to throw it at a moment's notice. "Let the girl go, fella. We don't want to make this any worse than it has already gotten."

Belphesius continues snarling his Orcish pride having no intention of giving in to the human's demands. The blood now running freely from the young lycan's wounds and feeding energy into the Shaman's words. Ranok seemed the impatient type, and his actions proved as such. No time offered the Orc to consider the offer he lofted a bolt mere moments after completing the issued warning. The bolt, as directed met solid muscle in the Orc's thigh, tearing through and depositing the toxic concoction, a vast spate of blood poured forth from the newly acquired wound, the unwilling sacrifice of Belphesius own sanguine fluid serving as more than enough offering to complete the Shaman's casting. A scintillating azure light descends over the Orc and his bound companion, growing in intensity as the orc falls to one knee, the poison already affecting his motor skills. A brilliant flash of mystic light is all which remains as the casting completes and leaves the search party alone in the streets of gualon... the unknown Orc now gone from view. Belphesius vanished before your eyes, perhaps never to be seen again.

Angelo had made his way around with Ganjimu, Bainwen following close behind; she drew her bow and notched an arrow, ready to let fly in an instant. Angelo, however, did nothing; no daggers were drawn, and the crossbow on his hip went unused. Instead, he simply watched and waited for an opportunity for him to do his work with smoke and mirrors. From the way things were going however...he didn't think he'd get one anytime soon. "Listen to him; we don't want more trouble."

Ganjimu said, "Dammit!"

Angelo blinks. Just like that. Well, damn it. Didn't that just beat all.

Ranok slowly lowers the crossbow. He wasn't impatient, simple not stupid. Had he waited...the Orc would have simply teleported away regardless. Sans a toxic bolt in the thigh. It would be too much to hope that the toxin would kill the Orc, but at least the after effects would remain. Neurotoxins are destructive. Even if an anti-venin was produced swiftly, neurological damage would result. The armored man exhales. He wasn't giving up, oh, far from it. He still had one final option. Teleporting skipped the scent trail, however, he possessed Niawtu's chain that she wore for days on end. It would have captured some of 'her'. It could be used to track her via other means instead. In one sudden burst of motion, he hurls the crossbow down to the ground so hard that something in the thing twangs and snaps. A loud "Modderfooker!" is shouted. And then there was silence. He would simply turn and return to his mount after making she he had everything he brought, sans the crossbow. He had work to do, and little time to do it. Again.

Ganjimu sheathes his knife and scurries off, looking for clues since his ride appears to be leaving without him.

Angelo blinks again, still having trouble believing what had just transpired. Seeing that Ranok and the elf had the situation mostly under control, he clapped slowly, Bainwen drifting to his side with a concerned look on her face. He returned to his horse Luna and got on, pulling Bainwen up with him as they rode off; not exactly the best of nights.

Angelo canters alongside Ranok for a moment, still looking...incredulous, really. "What in the -hell- just happened? No final act, no curtain call - he just up and damn well vanished!"

Ranok halts. He's gotten an idea. It might be useful. He turns and begins heading back as Angelo intercepts him, "He teleported. How Hy don' know. But he kept his finker in her blood. Dere's a goot chance dere's a konnection." Back to the blood that spilled forth from the Orc he goes. The man gathers it up onto a vial that was emptied of its dried contents. An herbal mixture for helping wounds heal, but that wasn't as important. "But tvo kan play at de Blood Game. Dis might be useful. Hm."

Angelo nodded to Ranok, Bainwen gripping him from behind. "That'll definitely work." He followed beside Ranok, nodding again. "We can do this...we'll get this under control."

Ranok says, shortly, "Ve hed kontrol. But he vas intent uf runnink de hell avay. Now Hy've got to get MORE gotterdammerung kountermeasures. Like Hy don' hef enough bloody tinks to vorry about dese. Days like dese, Hy miss my old MOP."


Gamorg: Shaman Hut

Belphesius appears suddenly within the Shaman's tent, already on one knee due to the rapid effects of the human's poison. He'd never known the foul creatures to have such potent venoms, certainly this was an unusual sort of man. Dropping the young lycan girl unceremoniously, the Orc stumbles a bit toward the other Shaman present. A few meager grunts are offered toward them as he points to the bleeding hole in his leg, the only utterance being a snarled word… "Poison". The Shaman, well known to Belphesius, stand from their positions and immediately go to work on him, one grabs a long serrated dirk and slices deeply across the location of the wound blood pouring freely from the expanded laceration. Another grabs a length of cloth and wraps it firmly around the Orcs thigh, tightening it roughly into a tourniquet so as to prevent any more of the accursed venom from entering his vital core. The knife wielding Shaman starts gathering up the precious vitae which spills freely now from Belphesius leg, chanting over it as he sprinkles the sanguine fluid over the Orcs head and chest. With head swimming, and sweat pouring down his rough skin, the burly Orc fights for his life. A dire mixture of various venoms and poisons courses its way through his veins, though only moments have passed since the occurrence of the wound. The Ogre Shaman and Witch doctor both start chanting in unison as his condition seems to be worsening. Needing more sacrificial blood to feed their magic, the two both look toward the unconscious lycan which had been deposited upon the ground. A nod is offered toward the knife wielding fellow has he approaches the girl, slicing a narrow slit across her forearm to draw more of the required flow. The blood is gathered up into a vessel and consumed by both of the Ogres before they pour a small bit into Belphesius mouth, "Drink", they say together. Waiting for their blessing to take hold within the afflicted man.

Niawtu groans slightly as she feels the light pain of the knife within her deep sleep, caused by the powder from earlier. Slowly the powder is wearing off of the small lycan. Yet, still, she would not awake from this deep slumber that holds fast to her. Little does she know of what was going on outside of the world of sleep.

Belphesius twitches a bit as the voodoo magic and poison conflict within his body, luckily the bulk of said toxin is spilled out from the expanded wound upon his leg, though also leaving the Orc weak as he loses more and more blood with each passing moment. The shaking grows more violent as he convulses about the floor of the hut, writhing as he snarls in pain. A rubicund glow gathers slowly about his body, the soft red light shifting about like waves on the sea. Finally, the Orcs seizure appears to be slowing, his body calming into a steady state as the light starts dimming from view. Without any notice or warning, the witch doctor suddenly thrusts a burning hot iron onto the Orc's splayed wound, cauterizing it closed to prevent further loss of any blood, now that the toxin had been sufficiently expelled.

Belphesius weakly opens his eyes, conscious though barely so. "Must hide her." pointing toward the girl. "People looking for her... they have power of Xalious." The Shaman did not understand magic in the way wizards did, merely viewing them as shaman who wielded the power of a different God.

Belphesius fights to get up, though too weak to even stand he forces his frame to a seated position as the Shaman moves the bed to reveal a trap door underneath, pulling on the latch he reveals a column which leads to an underground sanctuary, the place where their darkest magic was cast. The witch doctor drags the girl to the pit, dropping her down into the soil cellar below before he descends the ladder, the fall could have waken the girl, but the witch doctor did not care. Once within the dank cellar he illuminates a small torch hanging on the wall, revealing a mass of cryptic glyphs upon the wall. This place was guarded by dark magic, a veritable shield against penetration by any outside source... this was indeed their sacred sanctuary, designed to keep secret all of their darkest workings. Chains are secured to large "D" rings mounted on the walls, it seemed this place had housed sacrifices and slaves many times before.

Niawtu jumps awake as the great force of being dropped shocked her. Shaking her head and trying to remember what happened she finds herself in a cellar with many chains and the orc from earlier holding a torch. Just as the child is about to growl out a few choice words at him, that no child should ever say, she feels a large shock of pain from her arm and her ankle, causing her to release a shrill yip of pain. Looking down at her arm she growls "What the... Where am I, and why'd you bring me here?" demanding answer that she already figured a full grown orc would not care to tell a child.

Belphesius hears the girl yelling from down in the dark sanctuary, shaking his head at the trouble she'd caused him. "You... quiet. Or we kill you and feed on flesh." With that, the witch doctor ensures that the girls chains are indeed secure, the child still tied hands to feet in a rather prone position. Without a word the Ogre ascends the ladder, grabbing the torch along the way as he makes his way up into the hut. A solid slam is heard when the trap door is dropped into its position, the sound of scraping wood barely audible from the basement as the bed is slid back into position over the hatch, leaving nothing but utter darkness and silence within the earthen confines.

Niawtu struggles and quietly growls as she tries her hardest to see if the chains or ropes with move enough to allow her body enough space to wriggle out of them. However the bonds hold tight. Sighing she begins to wonder what Belphisius had in store for her, aside from all the maiming they already did to her.

Belphesius speaks to the two ogres, telling them to hide her scent with some offensive resins. The pair gathering up a bit of sulfur, gum acacia, and various resins which release an acrid stench upon placement on the fire. Any remnants of the lycan's scent would be heavily masked and almost completely indiscernible, even if they party did happen to find this place so far from Gualon …………Brainwashing…………..

Belphesius wakes from his resting slumber, having recovered slightly from the previous evening's events, though still rather dazed and marred by the massive scar and hole within his thigh. Belphesius slowly stands, struggling to his feet and stretching a bit. A stiff limp haunts the Orc as he curses the cauterized wound. Moving slowly the Orc starts retrieving a number of supplies from shelves near the northern wall. A few drops of this, a sprinkle of that, slowly mixed into a bowl which is filled the remained of the way with fresh blood drained off a sacrificial goat. Belphesius walks across the room, a massive ham grasping the bed as he slides it out of place, the handle to the trap door is taken up as he lifts the portal, a torch is lit before the Orc descends into the sanctuary, his magical concoction in tow.

Niawtu squints as a light is brought into such unholy darkness. As her eyes adjust, sees the orc heading her way and scowls, but says not a word due to his threat earlier. Figuring it would be best for her safety to tone down the feisty nature a bit she simply sits still and quietly as she watches him.

Belphesius sets down the cup of bloody mixture, it smells slightly sweet due to the rozota flowers used in the mixture. Also present is a fair dose of zorata flower, the addictive swamp flower native to his homeland of Gualon. "Here, drink this... for your wounds. Will get puss and fever otherwise." The Orc was not lying, her wounds were indeed developing an infection having been exposed to a fair bit of contamination via the various Orcs and Ogres, though the mixture was no cure, rather a nefarious mixture intended to corrupt her brain and turn her against the party seeking her, and instead wishing to remain with the capture. Belphesius bends down and unties her feet from her hands, allowing her to drink the mixture.

Niawtu looks upon the cup suspiciously and says in a growling voice "Why would you want to heal me? You're the one who's been causing all the wounds anyway..." she sniffs the suspicious mixture, it did smell nice and she was very hungry from lack of food for the past day. But, she hesitated at the thought of drinking something an orc shaman has put together.

Belphesius shrugs, "You want to die, don't drink. More useful to me alive than dead."

Niawtu growls in frustration then grabs the cup swiftly from the orc, as long as it wasn't deadly what did she care? She drinks it down in several light gulps and suddenly hacks when she finishes, sticking out her tongue in disgust. Despite the fact that she was a wolf she never once drank goats blood, or even so much as ate one. "Ewww, gross!" she mumbles. As the mixture slides down her throat she can feel an odd energy, one of which she could never explain.

Belphesius snickers a tusky grin as she takes the drink down her gullet. "You'll need another dose in the morning to ensure the healing works properly." In reality, the morning dose would be the actual healing concoction designed to take care of her wounds, but now that she'd consumed his mystic concoction, such would likely be no issue.

Niawtu growls and shakes her head as the energy of the concoction rushes through her small body. Something was wrong, she knew it. But the longer the energy last it seemed the less she cared... She even started to forget most of her memories of Ranok. Niawtu started to even feel compelled to do whatever the orc said without showing her feral attitude towards him.

Belphesius tests the effectiveness of his shaman skill as he sits down next to the lycan, conversing with her in an informal way. "I hear that Ranok has been looking for you..."

Niawtu cocks her head, her usually bright silver eyes growing into a darker grey. "Ra-nok?" she closes her eyes tightly as she tries to fight forgetting but then hears herself say "I know no such man. Who is he, master?" suddenly growling to herself as she continues to try fighting back against it, calling anyone master was against her... However as she reopened her eyes they stay stuck at a matte grey color. The mixtures hold was ever so close to being complete, for her body is so small that magic would take little time to spread.

Belphesius nods, "Indeed, I must have been mistaken." Belphesius reaches up to unlock the chains from the "D" ring on the wall, then breaking the chains from the silver bracelets, though leaving the silver bracelets in place. He had conversed with the Witch Doctor over the day and discovered a revelation that silver prevented these dog people from shifting into their canine form. "Make sure you don't take off these bracelets, nor let anyone else remove them."

Niawtu nods, completely lost to the mixture, as he gives her those first orders "Yes master." she says as she looks down at them without the chains.

Belphesius stands from the seated position on the dusty floor. "Let us go get some fresh air, it's stuffy down here."

Niawtu stands up, moving most of her weight over to her good ankle as she follows Belphesius out of the cellar-like dungeon, agreeing that it was very choking down there.

Belphesius climbs the ladder, torch in hand and emerging into the Shaman hut, it's interior still stinking of the acrid sulfur mixture burned the previous night.

Niawtu follows Belphesius up the ladder and stands waiting for any orders or to follow him further. The acrid scent causing her sensitive noise to cringe.

Belphesius stretches a bit, limping along on his wounded leg as he exits onto the street to take in some well needed fresh air.

Niawtu follows Belphisius a foot or so behind, but stops quite suddenly and shudders powerfully. Blinking a few times she mumbles in a nearly inaudible voice "Ugh, I hate when people use scrying..." and rubs her head. She's always been able to sense when someone was scrying for her and the energy gave her a headache every time.

Belphesius looks back toward the young lycan, "It may be that fellow I was talking about, I didn't want to get into it if I didn't have to, but he is kind of a stalker. Likely him or one of his friends is trying to find you. If you want to redirect it, I can teach you a trick..."

Niawtu shakes her head, "I don't think I want to find anyone who is following me, master... But I think it is unwise to stay in one spot for too long if he is..." Ni'awtu replies to her captor. She wasn't going to ask why he was stalking her but all the child knew now that her memories were a little foggy was that Ranok was some man that possibly wanted to take her away.

Belphesius shrugs "Ok then, but if you're going to keep up your strength you'll have to keep taking your medicine at least once a week... If you can't find me for some reason, just visit Mesthak in the Kelay Tavern, tell him you need your medicine and he'll get it for you. I'll make sure you're taken care of." His medicine was in fact a renewed dose of the magical concoction, hopefully with the addictive nature of the mixture and her current mental state it would be easy to keep her under his control.

Niawtu smiles, thinking her new found master is being ever so kind and caring, even though it is only to make sure that she stays as his pet. "I promise I will!" she nods, happily agreeing to whatever he tells her to do. Though she was under his control it could never stop her from still being a child.

Belphesius reaches down to grab the pink and green bunnies, "Let's find you something more fun than these. Pulling the remnants of her former life away, though attempting to maintain airs of caring as he does do. The Orc snap his massive fingers, causing a small goblin to come running out from behind the building. "You... stay with her... keep her entertained." the Orc demands of the goblin. Belphesius gave 1 winged pink goblin to Niawtu. Belphesius also pulls a small object from inside his gris-gris bag, handing over the item to his new charge, "This can also be rather fun, I'd keep it on you always because you never know when you might get bored and need something to play with." Belphesius gave 1 generic oddball object to Niawtu. Belphesius said to you, "You can name the goblin anything you want."

Niawtu looks at the goblin and cocks her head then looks up at her new master as he hands her the object. Noticing the bunnies she get a slight itching feeling that someone important gave them to her, but the concoction is so fresh that she simply shrugs it off.

Belphesius removes the bunnies from sight placing them within a basket inside of the Shaman hut before he quickly returns to the street. Belphesius hands a small vial to the goblin to hold onto for safe keeping. Another dose of "medicine" just to be sure. Belphesius said to you, "So... what name do you wish to give your new pet?"

Niawtu looks upon the goblin and suddenly smirks "I think I'll call you Imalu!" she says with a soft, crystal-like, giggle. "it means 'little monster' in my old language!" she says with a smile.

Belphesius nods in approval to his slaves choice of naming, "It sounds good to me." The Orc wanted to delve deeper into her past, but thought it more wise to allow more time and doses until risking too much recall of previous events. Belphesius leans down, his towering mass now closer to the girls eye elevation, "You probably hungry, huh."

Niawtu nods, just a quick little head bob that children tend to do as her stomach grumbles the answer. "Yes, master. We gonna go get food?" she asks in a little more child-like tone.

Belphesius said, "Follow me, we go to get food." Belphesius walks up to the bar keep speaking to one head briefly, then alternately conversing with the other. A few moments pass before the Ogre returns with spit-roasted hog and a glass of stale water.

Niawtu looks around as she stepped into the tavern, quickly keeping pace with Belphesius despite her ankle. Something told her that getting too far away from her master would not end well in a room so filled with ogres that seemed to enjoy a good brawl or two. Niawtu looks upon the food that her master got her happily, she couldn't remember if she liked stale water or not, but was happy enough just to have food. "Thank you master." she nods as he hands the food to her. Niawtu drank a stale water. Niawtu shudders after she throws back the stale water, but soon shakes it off, and begins to nibble on her roasted hog. It seemed that the child kept as much of a proper air as she could when she was eating... Not that any of the surrounding ogres did... Niawtu looks up at Belphesius then nods and says "Yes, master. I will always take my medicine when I'm supposed to. I promise." She then continues to slowly eat in her proper looking way. She knew not why she chose to eat like that, but it didn't matter to her.

Belphesius smiles a bit through his usually snarling maw, things were coming together nicely with this little experiment. "If those bad guys get too close to you while you're out and I'm not around to protect you, just tell your new pet that you're scared and want to go home, he can teleport you back to the hut where you'll be safe."

Niawtu looks down at her new little companion and smiles at him, knowing that he can care for her if her master's not around. She notices him, however, looking at her food and asks Belphesius "Can he have some of my food? I don't think I can finish it all anyways..." she was truly hungry, but the young child felt that if the goblin was going to watch over her then they should take care of each other.

Belphesius shrugs slightly "If you want to share your food with him, that is fine with me, but he usually prefers raw food."

Niawtu, slightly agreeing with the goblins preferences, rips off a good chunk of the meat and hands it to him. He swiftly snatches it away and nibbles on it, he doesn't really seem to eat it... Just chew. Ni'awtu then yawns slightly; she wasn't tired though it was just one of those random yawns. As she does so a cloud of icy mist comes forth from her mouth, causing her to yip in shock. It would seem that the concoction caused her to slightly forget about her minor ability of frost. She looks up at Belphesius with a look as though she thinks she'd be in trouble for that.

Belphesius had noted a similar frosty breath the previous evening, though having little information to offer her about, so the Orc chooses to ignore the event and act as though he didn't even see it. "I'm getting a bit tired, and need some rest. You can stay up if you wish, just come home when you're ready." With that, the Orc prepares to stand from the table.

Niawtu nods, "you mean the hut with the smelly scent and the cellar, right?" she asks.

Belphesius said to you, "You don't have to go in the cellar anymore that was just for your protection. And the scent will be gone soon; in fact, you can burn some frank incense if you'd like to sweeten the aroma there."

Niawtu smiles and nods, "I promise I'll be careful and come right home when I'm done." She says to her sleepy master "Good night, master!" she nods


A Stroll Through Kelay

Niawtu wanders into Kelay way, her usually silver shining eyes quite foggy and matte grey in appearance. A small goblin with a corked vile of something is walking directly beside her. The child looks about Kelay as though she's never seen such a place before, even people that would recognize her only get a swift foggy glance. The goblin grasps her hand and begins to pull her over to a rock, one that is perfect for a child to sit upon and is talking to her in low tones. She smiles and nods. For some odd reason, as well, the pink and green bunnies that Ranok had once given to her not so long ago seem to be missing.

Ranok was coming out of the tavern, carrying that metal spike of his. He halts all at once when he sees Niawtu. The expression on his face is unreadable, "Niavtu. Vat...? How?" He kneels on the ground, "Kome here, gurl. Lemmee look at hyu."

Niawtu notices the man in very much armour and jumps, totally startled. She growls entirely unaware that this is her friend Ranok. Something seems off about her, and it is very much noticeable as one looks in her eyes. Dull, grey, no longer the shining icy silver eyes that Ranok knew. Also there was a deep cut down her forearm, and her freshly stitched up ankle had many gashes and gouges riddle about it. They look as though her flesh was torn with someone's fingers. Ranok knew what the hole in her ankle was from, however. Growling the child yelps "I don't know you, go away!" where ever she had been and whatever seemed to have happened to her she could at least talk now. Her lips didn't move as she did, but she could still speak. The goblin pulls upon her sleeve and begins to try to pull Niawtu away from Ranok at once. Something was fishy here...

Ranok sighs. He knew this wouldn't be easy. As for himself, he'd had a hard few days. Like he really didn't have much sleep. He tries again, though a hand creeps around to his back, "Don' remember me, Nia? Ranok? Big man dat gets hyu schtev?"

Niawtu growls, keeping a close eyes on Ranok, now that he seems as a stranger to the child. Suddenly the goblin pulls upon her sleeve and speaks quietly to her. "Ranok? *gasps and then glares at him* Master tell Niawtu all about you! Master say you stalk me, says you try to take little Niawtu away from him. But you can't do that! If you try I... I'll... I'll bite you!" she says growling ever more towards him as her words seem to spill out swiftly from thin air. "You probably try and take Niawtu's medicine away just like master Belphesius says strangers would try to do!" she begins to slowly back away, however her ankle won't allow for much room to be moving about, causing her to be far slowly than she ever could be.

Ranok says slowly, "Yeah...about dat..." The hidden arm whips around and lashes out with the frost whip he always keeps on his waist. The target was the goblin. It would be best to remove the lackey first. Niawtu can limp away all she wanted. The magical weapon flicks out almost lazily, but lightning quick to go for the throat of the goblin guardian. If he gets a hit, a powerful yank to try to snap the neck, and the whip would billow out cold as it does to make the flesh it touches flash freeze.

Niawtu sees the whip flash quickly and yips it terror, swiftly moving the goblin (just by a small measurement) out of harm’s way. "What was that for?" Niawtu asks in a shrill voice "Imalu isn't hurting anyone! He's just here to keep me safe and give me my medicine!" she growls. A vial of the medicine, in question, had fallen out of the goblins pouch and smashed against the hard ground. The strong smell of goat's blood, addictive swamp flowers, and many other scents wafts into the air swiftly. To Niawtu's noise it smelt wonderful (especially due to the goats blood) and one would notice Niawtu staring at the wasted "medicine" with a look of pity in her eyes. This "medicine" was made by the orc shaman and, whatever it was, had given it addictive properties much like that of opium medicine. Turning to the goblin she says "Imalu, may I have my other vial of medicine?" Imalu smiles and hands the vial to Niawtu, there is only one more vial upon the Goblins person and it is important to Niawtu that it doesn't spill. Popping the cork Ni'awtu is about to drink the concoction, suddenly not concerned with Ranok's movement.

Ranok gets up and charges next. The whip cracks out to split the two apart. Again he aims at the goblin to push him back. Meanwhile, the man advances upon the pair like a runner, his large stride eating up turf. Instead of trying to kill the goblin, he's just going to grab Niawtu instead, as it was much simpler. He was a large adult, had armor on to protect him from the biting, and was already sort of pissed. He'd had a long day and simply pounding anything that moved that looked at him cross-eyed was becoming more tempting as time wore on.

Niawtu shrieks in terror at being snatched up and, indeed, begins to bite the stranger, only to hit his armor. "Help!" Niawtu cries out as he carries her away to who knows where. "Let me go!" she growls, becoming more feral towards the clearly agitated man. Remembering her medicine she quickly stuff it away in her pouch, as though its contents were more important to her than her life, and continues trying to get out of the man's clutches, to no avail. She was tired, cut up, and weak being that she is a child. Soon she becomes so tired that she can't even keep her eyes open and simply, yet fitfully dozes off in Ranok's arms as he carries her away.

Ranok books it. More or less. He's not an Olympic runner, but he can cover ground when he needed to. And he needed to. The goblin wasn't taken care of. A struggling child in his arms. Options? Not so many, but violence was still viable, as it always was. If the goblin got close, by god he would start swinging. He was getting rapidly to the 'screw it, set it all on fire' stage that men of his type tend towards. He'd head towards Cenril, to lose the imp. Not that he didn't expect retribution in some way, but that was for another time and place.

Imalu runs after the man carrying the child he was supposed to watch. Had she said the words "Imalu, I'm scared. I want to go home." just as the orc shaman had instructed her. he could have simply poofed them back to the hideout. But now, as he swiftly fell behind there was going to be a lot of explaining to do if Belphesius were to find out.


Imalu Goes to Belphesius

Imalu slowly makes his way back towards the hut, "Belphesius ist gunna kills me..." he mumbles. He enters the hut, lacking Niawtu and waiting for the worst.

Belphesius looks down upon the muttering goblin, a snarl meeting the faux winged creature as it enters the hut. "Where the girl? You lose her already?"

Imalu, cowering, yips "Ranok found us and tried to kill us, but the girl saved me from his attack. While we were distracted he charged us and took the girl! I... I couldn't keep up! Please don't kill me! I saw them heading for the cenril cove, but none can get back there without being in a boat!"

Belphesius raises a large knobby ham and brings it down with a massive backhand across the creatures face, "Worthless you are... I'll not kill you if you can get the damned girl back. You'd better hope she still has the tracking object on her. Go to the Kingdom of Enchantment, the Enchantment Apothecary sells an elixir which will allow you to take on a mist-like ethereal form. Follow the magical signature of the odd object I gave her, wait till she is unguarded, sneak into the cave and get her ass back to me.""

"yes, sir!" Imalu whimpers as he backs out of the room, hand rubbing his sore face. As the little winged goblin leaves the area he mumbles, under his breath, "It should be the girl being hit, not me... Little troublemaker..."