Seravia: Rivertown's Crossing

[Catrux]

Just as Kirik had planned he felt the familiar sensation of blade parting flesh and catching deep into bone through the hilt of his trusty daggers. Blood erupted from the archer's neck splattering the Silver Elf as he flipped over the man dragging the corpse over himself affording him the time needed to continue his plan. Two sickening snaps accompanied by screams of agony suggested his blades once again struck true rendering two more archers helpless. Not one to take a chance the rogue rolled out knifing each one in the neck to ensure their death.

Shit, took a little too long. The two far archers opened fire on him as the two closest sought a more personal fight. Anyone who may have decided to watch this man at his art would see a wide smile affix itself upon the man's face. Just as the arrows would have pierced the rogue his body dissapated into black smoke only for him to reappear behind the archer furthest from the fray. Without hesitation, Kirik garroted the archer infront of his companions. As the archer's body dropped the rogue ran at the two foolish enough to attempt to combat him in close quarters. Keeping his enemies between himself and the other archer Kirik was on the defensive, dodging and parrying until one of them made a mistake allowing him to jam a dagger into his eye socket.

With one of the melee combatants dead and leaning on him Kirik's mobility was cut drastically. Sensing an opprotunity the archer let an arrow fly, noticing too late the elf avoided a leathal shot instead catching the arrow deep in his left bicep. Whether the Light truly was protecting the Elf or if it was merely adrenaline numbing the pain, he continued fightingpushing his opponent back toward the archer. He needed to try and close ground before he dispatched of the sub-par fighter. Unfortunately, this archer was either well trained or more of a coward because he kept stepping back maintaining his distance. Screw it. As the dagger wielding archer started an overhead stab Kirik crouched low and stabbed up at the man's wielding arm. The rogue's dagger logged itself between the man's radius and ulna halting his swing, just as Kirik extended his legs, thrusting the top of his head into the mans nose breaking it and killing him instantly.

One more, Morgen and the others should be cleaning up the rest. Dropping the dagger wielding archer Kirik resembled a predator stalking its prey as he looked at the last remaining archer. Time to find out if he is skilled or a coward. Blood still dripping off the Silver Elf's handsome face transformed it into a horrifying visage. Despite what he had just witnessed the archer held his ground with an arrow aimed directly at Kirik. Noticing the arrow pointed at him the Silver Elf began Zig Zagging toward the human archer challenging him to get a clean shot.

The archer was too slow, the shot whirred past the rogue, and with that the man forfited his life. He didn't have time to ready another arrow nor draw a knife. The man was dead and he knew it, Kirik rewarded the man with a quick death slipping his dagger between the man's ribs and into his heart, a technique that didn't cause a blood spray. Now that he felt there was no longer an immediate threat on his life Kirik took a moment to assess the situation. Hopefully the others have finished off the rest of the soldies, so we can leave immediately...well after I stop at the Temple. Kirik thought as he finally noticed the arrow in his left arm. That is going to hurt soon.

(4 dead not counting those from the previous assault.)

[Domar]

Morgen had not really expected the soldiers to be as ready for retaliation as they were. For the first time in a long time he was fighting smart, capable, and prepared opponents. A rush of soldiers passed him as they ran into the inn and the only thing that kept them from being cut down as they passed was the presence of a pair of fighters that were intent on him. Morgen was too smart to leave himself open to the pair by striking out at the other soldiers. The pair obviously had been trained to work together, one wielding a very close combat weapon while the other used a longer weapon. This would allow one to strike and distract while the other reached in and scored weakening blows. However it was going to take more than two well trained soldiers to take Morgen down.

The mace wielder closed the distance with Morgen, in the process trying to get Morgen to lash out. When he didn't the mace wielder charged at him, striking heavily in hopes of ending the battle quickly. Morgen responded only a fraction of a second before the mace collided with his head. He turned the mace aside with his shaft-sheath and locked it behind the mace head. By pushing the mace aside and pulling it towards him at the same time, Morgan forced the mace wielder to expose his side and stomach. With one fluid motion Morgen sliced the man from navel to vertebra and leaped backwards, away from the sword wielder who had tried to sneak a strike in around his partner. As the mace wielder attempted, in vain, to keep his innards from spilling out Morgan crouched, ready to spring like a leopard making a kill. The sword wielder brought the longsword in front of him in an attempt to ward off the coming attack. Morgen sprung forward like a crossbow bolt parrying the man's longsword strike. He then swept the man's feet out from underneath him with his leg and cleaved the man's head off before he even hit the ground.

Morgen then made a split second decision. *With the lancer heading inside there is the archers to worry about. People coming out don't need to be picked off.* With that Morgen charged the half of the line of archers nearest to him, leaving the other half to Kirik or to whoever else sought to aid them. To catch the attention of the archers he roared, "The Light will be brought again to those too long in the shade!" The two nearest archers turned to him and fired, but Morgen jumped nimbly over the arrows meant to end his life. He landed about five feet in front of the archers meaning to leap over their heads and sever their spinal cords as they tried to re-knock their bows. However, as he started to uncoil his legs for the leap one arrow whizzed past his head while another buried itself in his left leg. The arrow had enough force to set his jump awry, but Morgen had learned long ago a little trick that would help him now. While in the air Morgen twisted his body in such a way that is countered the force of the arrow. It also caused him to spin in mid air right above two of the archers. While spinning he lashed out with his blade and in a flash of steel one of the archers died as the blade had cut deeply enough to halve his heart.

The other archer had tried to step back when Morgen leaped, but his heel had caught on a rock and caused him to fall. The fall only lengthened his life by a few seconds though. Morgen landed right by the man as he performed a surprising kip-up to bring him to his feet. Before the man could turn around though Morgen ran him through with his blade and used the slowly dying man as a shield from the next few arrows that had been sent his way. Two thuds and shudders from the man confirmed his safety, yet Morgen's work was not done. He pulled his blade from the man and made ready to fight the last two of the archers he had chosen to dance with. "Who wants to be my first cotillion partner?" he asked them loudly enough for them to hear, "Don't worry though, both of you will get your turn."

(Four down. Hope this wasn't to long.)

[starfire]

(GM)

Within the tavern, smoke filled the room. The sounds of steel on steel co-mingled with the sounds of screams as people burned. Of the fifteen men who entered the tavern to fight, seven had been killed, with one injured. However, the flames were spreading catching on anyone unlucky enough have brushed the tongues of the fire. Nightwarrior only hastened the inevitable when he spread an alcohol induced fire across the bar, which in turn ignited the floor and wall behind it. The man Jon was dragging toward the opening caught flame. Luckily for that man, he had already lost a limb and was unconscious from the loss of blood and pain. His death too was inevitable, and now, relatively painless.

The seven remaining combatants turned, looking for an exit as the tavern burned. One caught fire, and ran straight for the hole in the wall that William now filled. Three were close behind him, thinking of only escape. Two ran towards Nightwarrior. "Out the back!" one shouted to the other. One other heard, and followed.

Out on the street, where Morgen and Kirik had taken the fight, things were swiftly deteriorating. While all of the archers were dead, the sounds of marching men, was drowned by the screams now coming from all around. Fires could now be seen on some of the other roofs. The smell of smoke would now be easily caught by any. The wall of water, which had been cast fell back into the river from lack of use. A great splash and rocking of the water caused the boats to toss even more. Across the river, several skiffs landed on the street. This however was a blessing in disguise. Men in armor were slaughtering all those in came before them. Men in black armor. The skiffs provided a barricade for some to get away.

On the tavern side of the river, a contingent of men, in full black plate armor formed before the tavern. From the other side of Morgen and Kirik, another contingent of men formed, dressed also in plate, with shields of a leaping fish. With screams the two charged for each other, the middle point being Kirik and Morgen. For them, two ways out existed. One was to run back to the flaming tavern, and go around to the back, where the stable Night Warrior has originally come, sat; or the splashing river, where the water was rocking unnaturally, and boats were crashing against each other, shattering, and sinking.

(Auto, and follow as you will. Keep in mind the men on the street are too many to be defeated. Remember that the post before yours takes precedence, and not to auto each other. A needless reminder, i think. I will post by March 1, as the Bar Exam is next week.)

[starfire]

(Jon)

He leapt at the flames as the man he was trying to save caught on fire. "Gods dammit!" he screamed. He began coughing at the smoke. "Out!" he yelled to no one in particular. "We gotta get out!" Still refusing to open one eye, he turned looking for the back. He thought he saw a man with a flaming sword, near the hall to the back exit. Unsure whose side he was on, Jon ran in the direction of the man (night warrior), following the armored men who attacked. The one in the rear got a sword to the top of his head, as Jon chopped down with a scream. He threw himself at the back of another, leading with his shoulder, and knocking the man forward. "That way!" he yelled to the man with the flaming sword. "Go!" he yelled again, and brought his sword down, point first to the back of the enemy's neck. The other man who had been running toward the flaming sword man turned as Jon tried to rise, back handing him across the already cut and swollen side of his face. Jon fell backward, dazed.

(Two dead)

[Deleted]

Heading for the stables seemed like the best plan of action all of a sudden, what with half a dozen people charging in his direction all shouting to get out. He could barely hear anything above the screams and roaring fire, and his sight was now severely limited by the smoke. Perhaps the flaming sword wasn't the best idea... but it looked awesome! He realized Jon was among the people charging him, and while he was sure the man wasn't the person he thought he was, he still seemed 'friendly' enough and had been just as equally targeted by the attackers.

He started waving the sword at anyone else who could see, shouting, "This way! To the river! Everybody get out!" Unfortunately, not everyone seemed so willing to play nicely for a common goal, and while Jon had done a nice job cutting down two enemies, a third seemed to get the upper hand on him. Tom rushed forward and ran his sword through the side of the soldier's armor, between the plates and slicing through the leather straps holding it in place. The soldier screamed in pain as the sword's flames were doused by his flesh. Tom kicked him off the sword and grabbed for Jon's arm to pull him up, shouting above the din, "Now's not the time to be sleeping, boy!"

Things had been happening so fast, he hardly had time to think, but now his mind was a bit sharper with that wee pinch of ale loosening the brain cells. He decided to prepare his freezing breath attack -- that small bit of magic he'd been bestowed with from the dragoness of the far, far, far northern land, the bit he could only use once a day... Damnit, he hated using it, though, it always gave him terrible heartburn for a week, and he hadn't found a good enough antacid yet that would cure him of the ailment. But, fire was fire, and he had been given a gift of ice. At least he'd have winter-fresh breath for a few days. The blue medallion around his neck began to glow brightly, charging the energy of the dragons into it for his use.

Tom wondered what was going on with the other across the tavern. For a moment, it looked like an elf woman had turned into a tree -- a rather odd way to defend one's self, especially in a fire -- and he thought at one point he had seen the armored elf babe's feet dangling from the roof through the 'second doorway' -- also a bad place to be when the roof, the roof, the roof is on fire. He tried to pull Jon toward the back door and into the stables, assuming Jon was cooperative in some way. At least at this point Tom's sword was no longer a flaming blade of smoking death. He threw a foot forward into the stable door, hopefully kicking it open...

(One dead)

[starfire]

(Jon)

The side of his face seemed to be burning and throbbing all at the same time. All he knew was that his head hurt, he was dizzy, and the world smelled like smoke. He was vaugely aware of someone yelling something at him, and kicking open a door. A blast of cool night air hit his face, but did little to dim the acrid stench of smoke. Jon let himself be pulled by what he thought was an armored stranger. 'Armored' he thought, knowing they had just been attacked by the Lord Grey, the lord he himself served. 'Where's my sword,' he thought again, but the only thing he held onto was the armored man's arm.

As Night Warrior dragged Jon outside, and towards the stables, which were also starting to catch fire, but not to the extent (yet) of the rest of the tavern, Jon noticed the familiar sounds of battle, and not sounds coming from the Tavern, but from the surrounding streets. Screams mingled with the sound of steel meeting steel, and fire lit more than just one building. The setting sun only amplified the appearance of the world being set aflame. The boy who tended the stables was no where to be seen, and the three horses inside the stables were rearing and kicking to be let out, to escape the coming flames.

"We gotta go," Jon said dumbly, his wits slowly returning. "But... where..."

[Deleted]

Tom pulled Jon along until it seemed the young man was able to move on his own. He was relieved to see his horse still in the stable, but annoyed it had been left there to die. Well, not on his watch, god damn it! He hurried to the black stallion and saw none of his weapons or items had been removed. The stable boy must have seen the soldiers coming and left in a hurry as soon as Tom had walked into the bar, he figured. He quickly untied his horse and motioned an arm at Jon.

"Pick a horse and mount up!" he ordered, "We're ditching this taco stand." Mmm...tacos... Tacos rule! He shook his head to dispel the illusion of dancing tacos in his vision, and grabbed the saddle. In one swift motion, he hoisted himself up and over the horse, which took the sudden change in weight without hardly flinching. It was a war horse, meant for mounted combat and long marches. He couldn't attest to the other two horses, though. "We'll head north, to Skyfall like the herald said! Anywhere's better than here, son!"

He sheathed his sword finally, and reached down to take his halberd from the saddle. Holding it proudly in both hands, he pulled back and locked the hammers of the flinklock rifle and grinned beneath his helm. "Groovy."

[starfire]

(Jon)

He still wasn't moving fast, or with any precision. He only registered that the man whom he was with walked into a flaming building, from which, the sounds of horses attempting escape could be heard. Jon followed, and moved to untie the reigns of a small brown horse, pulling and screaming at the flames. The horse reared, sending him on his back, but Jon pulled himself back up, and untied the horse. The moment it was free, it dashed out of the open door, and into the night, riderless. Jon swore, and moved for the other horse. It was brown as well, but spotted with white spots. It was rearing and bucking at the flames as well, but when Jon untied the horse, it held still for the key seconds Jon needed to mount, and ride out, as if it knew he was helping. Jon held the reigns and followed the armored man into the night.

"North?" he called back. "Half the damn city has to be ablaze by now, and it seems they all want to kill us!" He swore loudly, as he realized he didnt have his sword anymore. 'It must have fell' he thought. "I say we just get the hell out, and figure out which way is what later!" He didn't wait for a reply, but instead turned the horse toward the alley and followed it to the front of the tavern, where the only street away from this area was. The second he entered the street though, what he saw took him back. 'We're dead,' he thought.

Battle had erupted. Pockets of fighting could be seen on both sides of the river. The tavern was fully aflame, with no one doing anything about it. Jon didn't bother to wonder whether the people they had been fighting with had gotten out safely. Men, all on foot, were battling each other. Some had the leaping fish of the Lord Grey. The others had no crest, or badge denoting their allegiance. But they battled on and on.

Jon wasted no time. He charged his horse toward the fighting. The horse was no war beast, but it jumped, and kicked men in its way. Since he had no weapon, all he did was charge to break free. In a matter of moments, he would have left a gap for the armored man to easily follow, and the two would be free. Jon didn't know if the man was following, but he turned his horse up the street, and followed the river for a few hundred yards, before turning up another street. Men in armor either paid them no mind, or turned to slowly to do anything about the horsed men. So intent they were on their task of sacking the city that two fleeing men were little to nothing.

Night was falling now, but the sky was illuminated with the orange glow of fire, and the black smoke that resulted from it. Within a few miniutes they (if NW followed) would have gotten to a bridge, and Jon would have charged across, but for the line of huge figures in black armor, atop large black horses. All were uniform in their position, one hand on the reigns, the other holding greatswords with a bluish tinge in the other. They looked like soldiers ready for inspection before thier king. Jon had never seen men so big, or horses so large. Something about them made Jon's horse rear, and threw him to the ground with a thud, before bolting the direction they had just ridden from.

No weapon, Jon stood facing them. The thought of running didn't even register.