Pressure the Hinges

[Slayer of the Rot]

The monster ground his foot against the worn, dirty cobblestones beneath him. Oh, the time and gold spent in a place that now seemed so wretched almost tugged at his heart strings. Corone had already become such a melting pot that it made him sick, but the separate Bazaar seemed to have become the focal point of his nausea in this world. Each unfortunate breath drawn through his nostrils brought him the disgusting stink of the race of men, elves, orc, and others. Each passing of his eyes allowed him to see the motley colors of their impassive or delighted faces, absent of the wondrous color of their own blood.

But he was going to change that. He and his family, that is.

None paid much attention to him. Considering the appearance of the other races crawling through this money pit, he was just one in a million, even wrapped in heavy black armor. He just looked like another warrior perusing the armories, looking for the best deal on a new axe or shield.

Thus, no one noticed when the long, peaked helm appeared without explanation upon his head. Eyes were drawn soon after, for as he set the visor down, hiding his face; he suddenly cut an ominous visage in their array, the holes cut for vision in the helmet narrow and jagged, looking like dark pits. He thrust his left arm into the air, already towering over most of the crowd, and summoned his pike. The people boiled and stirred with uneasiness, frozen in their tracks, as though paralyzed without a touch.

"Too long has the Bazaar taken your gold for sub-par products! They rob you blind! Death to the Capitalists!" The hulking armored Dan Lagh'ratham barreled through the crowd and thrust his weapon through a plate glass shop window, shattering it, and turned to the side immediately, where a gaudily dressed human stood, shaking in his fine leather boots. He raised his hands as though to ward away the enormous metal monster, but the lower haft of the pike came swooping down and crushed his skull, spun back over Dan's head, then came down again on the merchant's cart, loudly smashing it into splinters and torn cloth.

"And death to you!!" He leveled the pole arm at the crowd. Screams suddenly erupted, and through them, panic began to spread. They pushed against each other, frightened like animals, and reduced to such in their base instincts and fear. "Death to those who have fed the machine!! Kill them all! Take what you wish!"

((All members of Audeamus are encouraged to post here immediately. You don't need to worry about incredibly detailed posts, all I'm asking for is activity. This thread is open to any and all who want to pop iin here and stop us, regardless of level. You might become the hero that stops the destruction of the Bazaar!))

[Massacre]

The calm before the storm was making A'rei's blood boil. She wanted to cause havoc, she wanted to take what she wanted but Dan said to wait until he said to. She knew better than to cross her master, but the girl couldn't help but feel the anticipation in her mind. She walked lightly amongst the crowd until she was in the middle of everyone, knowing they would run like mice when Dan began his rampage, his slaughter. They wouldn't stop her towering master, they didn't have the power. The girl was weaponless at the moment but that would change, they were here to plunder, not to make nice and buy items.

When Dan began it, she knew, the way he raised his hand into the air was unmistakable, there would be blood spilled. The screams and cries began when Dan threatened to kill people, she had to act quickly if she wanted to get away with anything devious or anything valuable. Or both. As Dan smashed the case, A'rei quickly ran and grabbed a sword. The material was light, it had a smooth gray shine to it, the guard was gold with a velvet covered hilt. There was a large topaz sphere crafted into the end. The design of the blade itself was unique, long and slender, the length of a longsword, but it has small etchings on it and in the middle it was carved out, parallel with the edge of the blade. As she grabbed the blade she heard a voice, "Get your filthy hands off me, woman!"

A'rei looked around for the voice as she picked up the sword and grabbed the scabbard. Who said that? A'rei looked around more, seeing a sign that stated 'The World's Most Wondrous Sword' and had an arrow pointing to the case that Dan had broken, "Did you hear me you filthy slut? Put me down!" A'rei looked down at the sword in her hand amongst the chaos, "Put me down."

The girl chuckled at the sinister attitude of the sword, she had heard of intelligent and sentient weapons before. She knew that it was usually the spirit of some old, aloof wizard, this one seemed more harsh. The voice that emitted from it was harsh and cold. No point in worrying right now... A'rei ran towards Dan to make sure nothing would happen to either of them, despite her master's power, there could be warriors of great caliber present. She held the black, velvet covered scabbard in one hand, sword in the other, her left. She was ready to fight and plunder now.

[Rigor Mortis]

Finally, it was his chance for revenge. His chance to get back at everyone that had wronged him during his childhood, including, symbolically, his mother. Rex despised those who mistreated others, and the merchants of the Bazaar loved to do that. Gold spent on crummy things, unfair deals rampaging, and the occasional under the table deal that benefitted he who sold. It would all end that day, thanks to Dan.

Rex couldn't help but admire the massive man. It took a lot of courage to energize something of this proportion, but Dan had the willpower (and the manpower) to see it through. Rex had not met everyone personally, but he had faith that Dan's followers would be powerful beyond comprehension. Rex liked to consider himself as part of this following. Dan would conquer the Bazaar, after all, he admired the armored man for his strength and conviction, not his looks and wealth.

Rex roared loudly as he stepped forward to stand with Dan after his enormous entrance. He would stand and fight until he couldn't fight anymore. With an enormous grunt and a powerful swing of his axe, Rex smashed through a glass window protecting many gems and minerals, spraying the jewels throughout the street.

Chaos was sweet, and it was about time he got to cause it.

[Synful_Blood]

She trudged through the crowd, letting those who actually saw her recoil in disgust at the self-inflicted scars covering her arms. The Elven hybrid glanced at the note she had received several days prior in Scara Brae. Some human had handed it to her, inviting her to the Audeamus.

She didn't know why she'd decided to join. She didn't really identify with any "group." But here she was. Waiting for a cue to begin killing random citizens. While Syn didn't have a problem killing random citizens, normally she really didn't care to. What was the point? The most populous race lived only a few decades and then they wilted away and died. Their entire existence was pointless.

That's when she saw them. Their black skin and white hair gave them away instantly, and she started stalking toward them, gripping her dagger tightly in her pocket. She'd spent twenty years in Alerar hunting these damned and tainted creatures down...and now she was going to kill these, this family of five, cue or no cue.

The male -- the only one with a weapon, as circumstance had it -- started to turn her direction, as though sensing her hatred and murderous intent. He let himself be distracted, however, as a monster of a man started screaming and flailing weapons around. So that was the cue. Dan Lagh'ratham, their 'leader' or some such, jumping around and howling like a monkey. The carnage had begun.

Syn used the initial panic and confusion to grab the oldest of the children and slit his throat like a sheep. It was a painless death, and as the woman turned to grab hold of her children, the stick-like hybrid grabbed the smallest, picking her up and stabbing her through the lung.

Their mother let out a scream, and Syn reversed her blood-covered dagger and smashed it to the bottom of the woman's breastbone. Her ears picked up a satisfying crack and a scream of agony, rather than of panic. A sadistic grin swept across Syn's face. Her victim would die of that wound. Syn had seen others die of the same before.

A cry of anguish reminded her that the armed male was still alive, and she raised her left arm in time to protect her face from a strike with the shortsword. As the blood began to well up from the cut, it coiled out like a snake looking for its victim. Her target's shock gave her just the time she needed to step in and slash her dagger across his belly. A sour, foul scent filled the air as the man's guts spilled, and Syn just grinned, letting her blood noose target the third child, a female, who had been foolish enough to stay behind with her family.

Syn let out a harsh laugh as the girl collapsed dead.

Lau i'tyalieni yest!

Let the games begin.

[Cyrus the virus]

From the sky, the Bazaar itself was like a line of dirt in the road, busy ants tumbling and crawling over it. Each individual insect had a place to go, a thing to do, a person to see – yet they moved in harmony, completely unaware of how the road’s structure forced them to follow a set route. Just like sheep, Luc thought, sheep that screamed when they died.

The mage was getting more and more used to the idea of using his powers for evil, though he saw his work as good. His own, that was. Hundreds had died, sacrifices to the elements, and only because Luc had grown tired of any form of irritation. Dan was exception to the rule, and only because of their history and shared vision.

His goal was the Spherical, an oddly-named shop by the center of the plaza.

Within said establishment stood a man with a long black cape and a black beard down to his neck. In his hand sat a liquified metal, akin to mercury but more translucent. It rolled about his palm, dancing to his every mental command. Across the counter was an artisan with a monocle in one anxious, perceptive brown eye.

Before the shopkeeper could appraise the strange liquid and its magical values, the window at the side of the room shattered loudly, spraying shards of glass all over the inside of the shop. Both occupants, upon recovering from their shock, watched as a pebble came to a rolling halt in the center of the floor. Then, oddly enough, it rose and pitched through the glass case which ‘protected’ many magical artifacts.

Then he was there, like a specter in the shadows of the back of the shop. Luc’s Windwalk had carried him through the window and behind the shopkeep. It was a second too late that the customer shrieked, because by then the Slykrit Blade was already through the robed man’s gut. Erupting into fire, the sword shot flames through his body and out of every orifice, immolating the shopkeep’s innards.

Then the screams came from beyond the door. It was beginning. Luc pulled the sword out of the man’s body and set the shop to burn, letting the customer flee in the chaos.

He snatched three scrolls from the wall before exiting himself, finding legions of people, of disorganized guards, watching so many things happening at once.

“Must take care of the wee ones,” he reminded himself, and walked casually through the chaos to find one of the weaker Audeamus members. He needed to show off or to guide them on their way, surely, or protect them from the many, the plethora, of able warriors and skilled mercenaries in the Bazaar. Audeamus’ growth, after all, depended on the new ones.

[Bleater]

How it came about that William Steinbock had found himself out of the auspices of his dank, rental flat and in the bazaar was less for his own benefit and more for his actual well-being. After his questioning by the Aleraran government, he was increasingly being pulled into work that allowed them to keep a watchful eye on him. Which means of course, he had to play along even more to keep them from knowing the truth about his upbringing. He was ordered to the bazaar by a subordinate of the Herzog who had interrogated him, told to gather pricing information on bulk orders of arms. Of course, he wouldn't have the funds to place such an order, but getting an idea of the costs they were in for was no strange measure among governments making war preparations. Shop around for the best deal. After all, why just fight the enemy when you can do so at a discount?

Not to say he didn't have his own selfish thoughts in mind. He intended to use this as an opportunity to get some basic price estimates on the materials he would need if he were to ever finish the designs for the Iron Butterfly, a massive design undertaking he had been working on for weeks now. Again, there was no way he'd be able to buy the materials now, but it's best to go ahead and know what kind of debt he was looking at if the doubtful happened and it actually came to light.

He had barely made it into the heart of the bazaar, and not even stepped into the shops when the screams broke out. His caprian ears perked up on his head as he saw people running and fleeing randomly, like a swarm of insects who had gotten a torch thrown in their midst. Another set of yells followed, then another as what can only be called a spontaneous riot broke out.

His heart leaped into double-time as he felt all four of his stomachs rise into his throat. The fear was overtaking him, and despite the crowd in a full panic, running about, he was frozen in place. Two, three, four... the numbers of the persons creating the chaos was growing, and he couldn't even keep count of just the ones in his vantage. But even now, the crowd itself was as dangerous as the vagabonds causing the disorder.

Then he heard it. the shrill wail of a young child. Looking over, he saw two children- a boy looking about seven or eight, and a young girl a few years his junior- clutched together with fear. A large burly merchant was plowing through the crowd a few feet from them, trying to escape the chaos, but now presented as much of a threat as those assaulting the Bazaar. Heroism can dissolve fear in an instant, and right then, William instantly lost any thoughts of himself and dropped to all four of his hooves, racing for the children. As the man barreled towards them, oblivious to the kids, William raced on, lowering his head. With a final thrust he slammed his head and the flat fronts of his horns into the large merchant's abdomen, knocking him backwards. Instinctively, he pulled himself back on his hind legs, turning and extending his forelegs protectively around the two children.

"I say, young ones! It is not quite safe at all here! Let us get you out of this madness immediately!"

The two children had terror in their eyes as they surveyed the crowd, struggling against the goat as he tried to pull them from the chaos.

"NO... My papa! We have to find my papa!" the elder brother said, holding onto his sister with one hand and pushing against William with the other. Grunting with effort, he tugged at them, pulling them out of the way as another fleeing person went past them. A third slammed into William, and it was all he could do to keep himself and the children standing.

There's no time for this. I have to get them out of here!

"Come along, little ones! Once we get you away from this mob, I'll come back and find your father for you. But for now, we must go!"

Looking around, William tried to find a way out, but every direction held the same thing: Anarchy.

[Witchblade]

She despised The Bazaar.

In all her years of wandering she had come here as few times as possible. Only when she absolutely needed or wanted something did she enter into this disgusted, wretches place. And today was no different. She wanted something; she wanted blood, death, chaos and mayhem. Of course she was expecting to get a few items from that chaos as well. This was The Bazaar of course, where one could buy almost anything they wanted to, even something illegal as long as they knew where to look. She was looking for some enchanted items herself. What exactly she wanted she wasn’t too sure. Materials items were never a huge thing to her. Her body was a natural weapon and yet she still lined herself with a multitude of objects to make the rendering of flesh and bone all the more easier.

She was a little late though. Dan had not given her a specific time to show up and her disgust at having to enter such a crowded place had kept her away for longer than she should have. With so many people in such close proximity to her, she couldn’t help but feel uneasy. She didn’t want any of them to touch her, not only because most of them were human filth but also because she just couldn’t handle physical contact. A weakness, one she wished she would soon find an answer to, but nonetheless, it was something she had to deal with until then.

Just like any other day at The Bazaar, the streets were crowded and filled with people of all races. Elves, Drow and if she wasn’t mistaken, even a Draconian. She’d leave that one for Dan to take care of. Witch had spent time to Dheathain and had grown fond of the Draconians. They were like her in so many ways, not only that but they were powerful creatures well versed in the ways of war. She wouldn’t want to end up meeting the business end of one of their weapons.

Just as she was approaching the central area, or probably The Square—whatever humans called it—words erupted over the din of voices all trying to make themselves heard. She recognized it immediately as Dan running his mouth off. She didn’t care too much about what he was saying, all she cared about was that the carnage had finally begun. Soon after he words, the crowd turned into a mass of chaos. Women and children were screaming, piercing through her sensitive ears and nearly causing her to cover the sides of her head to drown out the noise. People began running for their lives and someone foolish enough bumped into her.

Her hand shot out from the darkness of her cloak and wrapped around his clothed arm, crushing the pathetic appendage in her grasp. She didn’t give him time to scream though, instead she forcefully shoved his back, tasking his legs right out from under him and then slamming him down on the cobbled street. An audible crack filled her ears as his skull met the stone ground and though his eyes were still aware she knew that wouldn’t be so for much longer.

Standing back up straight, Witch began to move towards the epicentre of the chaos. A surprise of surprises happening when she spotted a familiar face standing beside Dan Lagh’ratham and ready to tear into the bodies of those close enough to him.

“Hello, my slave.”

She had not seen her human slave Rex since they’d met and had a little bit of fun in Dheathain. Strange that here of all places they would meet again. And to imagine, she had been thinking of bringing him into Audeamus. Now he was going to get a taste for exactly what the group stood for and did.

[Skylar]

((Hehe......"Apocolypse Please" ~ Muse. Listen to it while you read this.))

"Come on, folks, check out the latest Empyrean Gospels! Gold, silver plated covers made with hair from a Neverscale Mermaid! You heard it folks, come get your collector Gospels, right here..."

It was these words that had drawn Skylar's attention away from his initial shopping for some more parchment and ink. As his eyes came across the beautifully adorned holy books, he curiously found himself leaving the herds of the street. The salesman gleamed a overestatic smile at Skylar's approach. It was his first customer of the day, after all.

"Hey son, interested? You seem like a man of the cloth......that Hidden One's up there waitin' for your purchase!"

Skylar's face remained placid, shaking his head at the sight of utter disregard for the true teachings of the Hidden One. He puts his hand on the table, locking gaze with the enthusiatic salesman. It was a look of disappointment tinted with a glaze of pity.

"Greed will never make you happy. It will only leave a hole for more gold to horde. The Hidden One will wait for you to realize this."

The man's forced grin melts away at this, transforming into a dirty scowl almost immediately.

"Look, you prude, either buy something, or get outta here. I didn't get rent this booth for a day to get preached at. So?"

The initiate shakes his head, turning away from the stall and moving along. He had done what he could, and unfortunately greed seem to have a way of creeping and corrupting the souls of men. As if money could buy happiness, could buy a warm home, or return a missed mother from the brinks of death or even make well a sickly brother whose pure heart never deserved such a tainted body.

And then he heard the voice. And then screams. So many screams.

Skylar's head whips around as stampedes of men, women, and children collide with each other, desperately attempting an ill-organized and desperate escape. Doors were slamming shut. The people of Radasanth sounded as if they were cattle in a slaughterhouse. This had to be someone's nightmare.

The priest-in-training scours the streets hastily, narrowling avoiding being run over by the wide-eyed frightened crowds. He could see blood dripping off of their foot steps. So, he turns to face the other direction, dreading what it could be.

His stomach drops.

Bodies of dark skin and light hair lined this side of the street. There were five of them, limp, eyes void of intelligence, and most of all, their blood was everywhere. There was even blood around the neck of one of them, as if the drow was strangled by the very substance.

And there she was, standing over them, like a wolf finished with its hunt. A wolf with white and black in her hair, with flesh ghastly and her very skeleton seemed to poke out, as if the flesh was the only thing holding it in. And those eyes, those red eyes, drinking in the crimson sea that surrounded her slouched body.

That was enough for Skylar.

"Why...?..." Skylar whispers.

The distinct sound of a flail being swung begin to cut through the air. The spiked ball flew through the hair, as if revolving over Skylar's head as he pumps his arm's strength to give it more momentum.

"Why did you do that?........"

The spiked ball was picking up speed, along with Skylar's breathing. The world begin to close in around him. The screaming people, the swords, the explosions, anything that was going on near him or around him....it all faded. He saw evil itself incarnated a mere hundred feet away from him. He finally starts to move his feet, beginning with a walk, but slowly evolving his speed to match his rage. He could see those eyes so close now, the dagger in her hand, but he didn't care about his life now. He was an instrument of justice now.

A brutal, almost animalistic yell erupts from his sternum, booming through the marketplace, even over the other herd of scared people right nearby.

"WHY DID YOU KILL THEM!"

The flail flies through the air, swinging from the right towards the side of the woman's body, with Skylar's intent on turning this creature into a shiskabobed corpse. If anyone along the streets of the Bazaar knew Skylar, they would not now.

This elf had damned herself.

[Artifex Felicis]

When someone has been in the adventurer business long enough, and well enough to make a very good living, they began to get a certain sense of things. They could usually tell when here was more then meets the eye, wiser then the average person, and also seemed to gain a sixth sense about when something big was going to happen. It was what most successful adventurers get after a while, and it often kept them alive.

Lionel had been put most of his stock into a much safer containment since the beginning of the day, leaving out only some things for himself. Kate helped him a little when she awoke, and thanks to simply staying closed all day they got most of the things inside and safe from anything else.

The cat merchant himself was putting on old armor he once wore when he explored and traveled in distant lands. It was there he came across most of his wealth, and there he decided to come to Corone to retire from his life. He had done more then most people in there life and more. Almost to the point where his name would be spoken more like a mythical hero of old in parts rather far away from where he was now. It was why he came to Corone at all, because he wasn't known.

He had on an old set of leather armor, well worn and kept from fraying by Lionel's careful hand. The stitches were brand new, and there were several patches of off-color leather that showed wear. The same armor was once worn by an old demon, and in turn was once the skin of an old dragon. His blades had stories far more elaborate then that, and each blade could have been the treasure of a small kingdom. The cat merchant simply sat back down, closer to the back of the shop, knowing full well what was happening outside. He would not risk anything until he himself was provoked.

That didn't stop him from sending word to many other merchants around him to be ready and to have their guards ready to earn their pay. That same word was sent to the rangers of Corone, but it may be a while before they would be able to come to help the bazaar. Still, Lionel was sure there would be a few

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Haggling in the bazaar was not something that Leon was terribly good at. Where some people could get a blade for fifty gold, he would pay sixty. He hardly ever managed to get that could of a deal if he wasn't trying to sweet talk it out of a girl already enamored by his appearance. That was the case as it was now. He had two special rings on him, both were of gold, though one was set with a hard, dark green gem and the other with a diamond. The girl he found after the two gems was still in Concordia, and awaiting his return with some supplies. She never had her meat with spices, and he wanted to surprise her.

He was about to hand the diamond ring over to one such girl working in a pawn shop when he sensed something was amiss. A moment later and some gold heavier he was sure that something was wrong. It started off with only a few people, but then more and more began to run by the shop, and the sound of screams began to echo in the room.

Leon swore, leaving the building with hands in his pockets and looking over a few people running his way. He could not see much, but he could see chaos, as well as a large armored man who was undoubtedly the cause of all the problems. He grinned a little at the site, sniffing the air and hearing the sounds. There was blood already spilled by men and women, there were broken glasses, there was the occasional clang as two metal swords hit and recoiled, and there were the screams of the victims and rioters.

The cat boy moved, swearing to himself after the moment of joy passed. He viewed it as he felt he should, many souls going to their rightful place. Already there were several shimmers in the air as the incorporeal spirits left their bodies. There would be many more if something wasn't there to prevent them from causing more damage. He kept his two tails close to his body as he crossed into a different shop already open, preventing his two limbs from being crushed in the crowd.

The weapon shop was already well protected by many of its inhabitants. Leon held up his paws to show he was safe and not dangerous. The cat boy took down a shield from the wall, a pelta (http://www.4hoplites.com/Pelta%20Iron.jpg) if his memory served, and held it careful. Feline eyes searched the shop for a moment before he grinned and took a few steps. He picked up several coils of steel he saw earlier, stuffing them into his jacket before leaving the same shop. He never got the name, instead climbing to the roof without much idea as to what he would be doing.

There was a slight breeze on top of the roof, and Leon kept his face grim. He kept low and moved to the center of the building, crouching and unfurling the steel cords. Each was long, and each as thick as his thumb. He tested them with his yarn magic, pleased that they moved just as well. There were three cords, and they coiled themselves around him in certain spots, each able to lash out at will. He affixed the shield to his arm, testing the wicked sharpness of the pelta's two points. It was a curious addition to the shield, but one he could use.

He made a dashing figure as he rose, almost scary. Though he was more then well known by many of the guards and merchants of Radenseth. He had no fear of a stray bolt or sword coming his way. He set off, searching and surveying. He would jump down when needed, but until then he would be content to wait a moment as the situation was understood. He could mark out three main enemies, but there were smaller ripples of fear that spread throughout the crowd. He couldn't see any faces, but there was an odd feeling that he knew people here.

((Basically this, there are quite a number of guards among many of the shops, and many are well trained to defend themselves. They are somewhat numerous, but until provoked will not leave the particular shop they are in due to whose paying them and what they're paid to protect. I will bring them out however if bad things begin to happen to certain shops. Just a word of advice, they are not normal grunts ;) Talk to me if you want to fight someone bigger like Lionel as well, though you are warned.

ALSO

Please try to tell each other when something big has happened. A big thread like this could spiral out on control without much time. Just keep track of what your doing, and make sure your victim knows what you're doing.))

[Synful_Blood]

As the silver-haired man approached her, shouting, Syn's demented grin grew wider and wider. She could see the deranged anger in his eyes, and as he started whirling his flail, she looked at the panicked passersby to find something that might heighten the rage even more. For some sadistic reason, she enjoyed pushing her targets beyond themselves, be it in despair or anger, before she killed them.

Just as she was about to decide she had to use a body that was already a corpse, a young mother started rushing past, figuring that the Elf would be completely engaged in her battle with the Cleric. She was like a trapped impala as the Syn's arm lashed out and the blood noose slid easily around her slender neck, choking her. A quick stab to the belly, and the woman's insides were eating themselves slowly and she sank to the ground. Syn uncoiled her blood from the woman's neck, as it wouldn't be good to loose too much at once. The grab and stab had only taken a moment.

The swing started, and Syn plucked up the baby -- maybe two or three months old -- and stepped back right after the man had committed too far, holding out the child for sacrifice like the toreador held out his cloak to the bull. It was plucked from her hand and impaled brutally on the spikes of the mace, and then as the weapon's arc released it, it flew and crashed into a rough stone wall. Its loud death cries only lasted a few moments before silencing.

Syn looked straight at the man, letting her blood coil in the air, snake-like, once more. She grinned at him...she hadn't killed that baby...he had. Maybe, just maybe, joining the Audeamus and coming to the Bazaar hadn't been a waste. She'd killed five Drow, one random woman, and made an obvious do-gooder kill a baby.

"Cre umia," she said to him.

Well done.

[Koran]

The day started like most other days for the machine. The sun rose, he stared at it blankly for a few minutes, blinked and went back his normal business. Which normally included doing a whole lot of nothing, with a whole lot of everything to do with absolutely nothing. In other words, stand and stare at the sun, and if he wasn't doing that, kill something.

Unlike all the previous days before this one however, this was one of those rare days where he actually did something rather than nothing.

Ho-ohly shit, would you just look at that?

From a distance of about a mile and a half, the milling masses of people stampeding through the warren streets of the bazaar looked more like ants than actual people. Very slow, clumsy and other wise retarded looking ants, but none the less, ants.

I know, just look at em. It's like that time when we kicked that ant hill in Concordia.

Umm, that was Corone.

Aren't they in the same place?

Yes, and no. Maybe. I'm not sure.

Uh-huh. Right, so now that we've established what they look like, what do we do now?

Have fun?

You mean like, fly down there, loot some buildings and kill a few people kind of fun? Or fly around playing pranks on all ready scared shit-less people fun?

Heh heh heh.

The machine shook his head, smiled, tipped his wings and glided silently toward the milling masses of people below him.

It's just another beautiful day in the neighborhood, beautiful day in the neighborhood.

*~*

His landing could have effectively been called anything but graceful, as having three tons of body weight flying semi-uncontrolled toward the ground at near break neck speeds, into a swarming mass of moving bodies, just wasn't the safest thing to do!

But, he did it anyway and having counted at least four people he very literally smashed beneath his boots on his way down, he counted his ungraceful foot fall as more than covered for. Save for the fact that he now had a tiny patch of hair, with a few blotches of blood stuck to his boots and he had a sinking feeling that it would take more than just warm water and a wash cloth to get them off. He settled for shaking his boots a little to try and get most of the excess off.

Having finished that, the machine looked around and inhaled deeply. Right, so now what?

Pick a form, pick a shop, infiltrate and then Murder! Death! Kill!

That sound's oddly familiar.

I dunno.

Right.

A little boy, possibly about seven or eight years of age, broke off from the main body - if it could really be called a body. More like a flowing ocean of appendages and various other body parts - and sprinted toward where the machine was standing. A small smile crept onto the machines lips and he moved to intercept.

Catching the boy however, proved to be slightly more difficult then simply presenting ones massive presence before his small and meager eyes. The moment this happened the boy took one look at the six foot three figure of the machine, blinked and ran screaming in the other direction.

"Fuckin' shit," the machine mumbled, slapping his thigh while shaking his head. "Dammit boy, wait! I just want to talk!" It didn't work, the boy just kept running.

Shit, I have to find something else.

You could try her.

Who?

Her. Right there. In the blue.

The machine twisted his head to right, just in time to catch sight of a woman dressed in a blue blouse and white skirt duck behind a large stack of barrels.

Ah yes, I see. Thank you.

No problem.

Upon reaching the barrels however, the machine found himself staring at crumpled form of a now dead woman. She was laying, almost as if asleep, against the side of one of the barrels, a massive spot of crimson blood coagulating on her abdomen. Her eyes, stared blankly at the wall in front of her.

Fuck! Now what, genius?

Will it still work? I mean, she just died and what not. Could work.

Hmmm, it might. No better way to find out than to try.

The machine moved closer to the dead woman and knelt beside her, caring little if he knelt in the growing pool of blood beneath her. Extending his right hand, he places it softly against her cheek and closes his eyes. Moments later he opens them and looks down at himself.

Cool! It worked!

Indeed, as he was now in the form of the dead woman at his knees.

Now what?

Blood. Smear some on yourself, so as to make yourself look wounded.

Right.

Moments later, out from behind where just moments ago a tall blonde haired man had disappeared, stepped a blood smeared woman, dressed in a blue blouse and red stained white skirt. In seconds she joined the crowd that was streaming past, screaming at the top of her lungs, flailing her arms about and otherwise, causing havoc in an already chaotic situation.

Ha ha! This is kinda fun.

Just don't get too anxious, keep your eye out from some prime targets. We'll use this disguise to get behind them to 'safety' where we can then cause the most damage.

Right. Care if I still scream?

Oh, by all means. You have a wonderful screaming voice.

The machine and his crack-wise voice companion, plunged deeper into the very chaotic Bazaar, searching for that one perfect target, screaming the whole way.

[Magdalena]

While Sati sat upon one of the numerous benches that lined the hectic walkways of the Bazaar, mulling among senseless musings, the chill of a wayward breeze brought along with it a familiar scent, a harsh and ferrous sting. With a knowing sigh, she shut her eyes, drinking in the quietude of the moment, as much of that fleeting serenity as her heart could take in. Alas, fearful wails and the scent of blood were now rising at a blistering rate, announcing the onset of a most gruesome hour, robbing her of any moment of reprieve. No longer could she close her ears to the echoes of bloody chaos.

“I guess it’s time for me to walk.” Strange words, perhaps; but to Sati, their significance was both great and highly discommoding. The woman hated walking with a passion, and not merely because it was a waste of energy. As a child, she would stare out the window and down onto the snowy streets, but her sight was never granted much diversity, and as such, she had grown weary of her kind. To her eyes, those who walk are but mindless drones that dwell the confluences of the world, only to sustain the illusion of movement in the staticity of society.

If only Sapna were here. To her loathsome vision of humanity, her twin sister was the only exception. Not only did they share a bond of blood, but one of soul as well, much deeper and stronger than imaginable. It was heartrending to be separated from her elder, the ache in her heart the same as when their one soul was rent in twine by the horror of birth. Regrettably, their separation was needed, and at the very least, it would only be temporary. When our task is done, we will be together again…

With this, she drew herself to a stand, and with a grudging effort, she began her amble over the abraded cobbles, weaving a fibril path through the malodorous rabble of lusting merchants, envious consumers, greedy brigands and slothful vagrants. If she wished to rise among the ranks of the Audeamus and ensure the safety of her sister, then she had much work to do. And, for once, more than enough time to do it.


The order was simple. “To wreak havoc,” she declared almost musically, addressing the bawdry crowd in the district's most nefarious brothel, the Red Maiden. Hirsute masses of men, both wiry and buxom, stared at the voluptuous silhouette that was outlined in doorframe, the glare from the streets immersing her in half a shade. A group of girls, of diverse ages and varying states of nudity, their faces painted to make them look like life-sized bisque dolls, were staring her down haughtily from the stands upon which they were displayed. If I am to kill, then why not make every corpse count?

“If you want a girl, you’ll have to wait in line; all the rooms are full. Unless you want to sit with them, love?” asked the patron, his sallow and cyanotic face slit by a sickening smile. With his whoremonger’s eyes, he scrutinized her shapely bosom and cursive legs through the fabric of her priestess’ gown. “What will it be?”

With an expert swiftness, she plucked the aureate hooks that hung from her belt, twirling them between her dexterous fingers into mesmerizing swirls of red and gold. Then, without sparing a single glance to the decadent room, she released a callous murmur. “Revenge.”

[Cyrus the virus]

Like running water the people fled, in rows of screaming flesh along the main road leading away from the square. Those who led the pack ran with as much speed as they could muster, for even in their panic they knew that to slow meant a trampling death.

It came much more violently than that, however. The front lines stopped abruptly, plucked from the air like ants in a powerful storm. From the very air about the populace a tornado formed, dragging dirt, humans and debris alike up into a high funnel. Atop one of the many brick shops stood Luc, arms outstretched and a horrid grin on his face.

The whirlwind died shortly after, raining humans down upon the others. Still they fled, bottlenecking as the road got thinner, large shops forcing the cattle to adjust. Luc chuckled, stepped into the air and soared over the thinner part of the passage, drawing the Slykrit Blade and igniting it. If he could not find any of the new Audeamus members to guide, he would simply set the example from afar.

“Burn, you herded cows,” he mused to himself. Taking some flames from the blade, Luc sent a flurry of head-sized fireballs raining down, pelting the people and the surrounding buildings with fire. With each smoldering projectile he threw, Luc created another, sending dozens of them plummeting downward.

Something whizzed past his face, drawing his attention so fully that the next few fireballs he’d prepared were winked out of existence. Looking down, Luc caught sight of a man with a bow who stood atop a building, hastily placing another arrow against the drawstring. The mage dove down like a diving bird, covering himself in the enchantment of Stoneskin as he approached. Like a swooping torpedo he swung, cleaving through the man’s arm with the Slykrit Blade. Screaming, the man dropped everything and fell to the roof’s surface. Luc kicked him over onto his side and took to the sky once more, this time soaring back toward the square.

Enacting his Whisper spell, Luc sent a message to Dan. “I’m already bored with killing these whelps,” he said softly. “I head for the Adamantine Armory, join me if you wish.”

Located north of the square, the AA was one of the premiere weapon shops in all of Althanas. Luc was aware of how careful he needed to be while attacking it, so he slowed his flight and rose higher, casting Truesight to grant himself triple his typical visual range. One could not be too careful when in such situations, he reminded himself.

[La Fantasque]

Though her mental landscape was a wreck of a once glorious mosaic, where chaos now reigned and vile abominations had taken roots, Sapna had an astonishingly concrete understanding of logic. In Sati’s rushed explanation as to their task for the Audeamus, she had found a series of steps to take in order to fulfill both the needs of their group as well as their own personal goals.

Indeed, even though the girl found it awfully difficult to tie the laces of her boots, she had figured that the best way to optimize the damage of property, the breaking of laws and the fattening of coin purses was to ransack the most thriving business of the Bazaar. Thus, she roved through the colourful crowds, unseen by most and unheard by all, on her way to the Adamantine Armory.

Of course, it didn’t strike her as foreboding that she would likely not make it out alive, what with the guards in effervescence, combing the streets in search of a scuffle to tame. Dan Lagh’ratham had effectively caused pandemonium in the merchant conflux, his wave of crime and murder spreading with every step his family took; but this made her task substantially more difficult to execute. Still, she padded on the cobbled streets, the emerald of her eyes not marred by even a smidgeon of worry.

Yonder the court of rickety stalls, she could spy the eminent roof of the armory. It wasn’t necessarily immense, but was already quite a bit more conspicuous than any other run of the mill store, for its clean-cut stone structure shone like a rough pearl in a heap of filthy sundries; that, and the name of the store was displayed with cursive and ostentatious calligraphy on a signboard that hung over the windowpanes. With a smile that exuded purity and innocence, she produced a set of steepled stilettos from the shadows of her purple cloak, twirling them as a young girl would colorful batons.

“I would advise you to put away your weapons, madam.” Stepping to the side, a guard barred her way, disallowing entry into the establishment. To lay eyes on his imposing figure, plated from head to toe with weapons darting out of his heavy apparel much like flowers in a metallic garden, would be intimidation enough for any average criminal, many of who were much stronger and resilient than frail little Sapna. Still, she did not budge, and her juvenile smile did not even as much as falter.

“I will not repeat myself another time. Sheath your knives, lest I sheath them on your behalf,” the guard said solemnly, his coarse voice not winching once as he observed her unnatural advance, still trifling with her dark stilettos. As soon as she stepped inside his vital perimeter, a burly, gauntleted hand shot out of the mass of metal, grasping her throat and lifting her two feet above the ground. “You have brought this upon yourself.”

The wind was crushed out of her throat, causing her to gag and gasp for air. She flailed her toned arms, gaveling at the armor with the pommel of her weapons, but to no avail. Blood was building up in her head, blurring her vision; yet it was not the risk of asphyxia that unnerved her most, but the creeping feel of a man over her flesh. Her mouth, no longer boasting any trace of that childish grin, was moving, struggling violently with words. Put me down. Don’t touch me. Put me down! Don’t touch me!

“PUT ME DOWN!” The bellow shook him to the very core, paralyzing long enough for her to find two gaps in the bracers of his extended forearm, in which she jammed her daggers, twisting them with a dry and sudden jerk. Blood sprayed over her face, Sapna fell into a mess, hair and cloak fluttering waywardly into unruly pools on the ground. She gasped for air, choking and spitting as the air seeped into her lungs, burning yet soothing.

Looking up with wide eyes, her dementia enhanced by the streaks of red that poured down her face, she saw the guard rise to his feet, bringing to bear a massive blade, red spraying out of his wounds in profusion, an ireful look marring his once impassive countenance. “Bitch, you’ll pay for this.”But before he struck her down, the massive shadow cast down on the streets had drawn his maddened attention. With an upward glance, he came to realize that, as he was standing over Sapna in domination, so did an abomination tower over him.

It was a disgusting breed of snake and caterpillar, its rippling flesh covered with a crawling chitin. Where should have been hundreds of legs, he only saw squirming limbs, some flexible like an octopus’, others like cyanotic arms, stripped from a corpse and clumsily sewn onto the fiend. Its head was a simulacrum of a man’s, sans the eyes and with multiple rows jagged teeth that lined the edges of its overgrown mouth, which was looming nearer at an alarming speed. “Waaaugh!” He shrieked, barely evading the killing blow and running away like a wimp, with his tail in between his legs.

Drawing herself to a stand, she stared at the crowd that held her at a distance. The fiend vanished into a puff of wispy smoke, without a trace of having ever existed. With renewed calm, her gentle smile returned to its stead, she headed into the armory.

Sometimes, it paid to be insane.

[Bleater]

The pandemonium continued everywhere. The caprian's eyes darted about, even with the wide peripherals of his horizontal pupils, there seemed to be no path safe for William to get the children out. Off to the east of him, he saw the crowd shift, rushing from a freshly ignited building. As the sea of humanity took a more concrete direction, it would open an opportunity. An opportunity for escape; or an opportunity for more harm. Dropping quadripedally, William bit onto the collar of the young girl's dress, pulling back hard to whip her around his head. He dropped her square on his back, then roughly nudged at her older brother.

"I say, get on, young chap!"

The boy tepidly complied, jumping onto William's back just behind his forelegs. Though the children were young and small, the goat's back groaned under the weight. After all, it's not as if he was a horse. Still, his protective instinct let him suck up past the weight. He bound off in the direction the crowd travelled, the children clinging to his back as they rode him through the madness. The boy was hanging on to fistfuls of William's hair so tightly that he was nearly pulling them out at the roots; the little girl pressed her face against her brother's back and held her eyes shut tightly in fear. As they cut through the crowd, William's eyes shot back and forth wildly, sizing up a path of escape.

His eyes fell on the sight of an old man, feeble in his age, knocked down by the crowd a few feet to his left. With his muscles burning, rushing about with the children in tow, he changed his path in the direction of the fallen senior. With a few hard shoves of his head, he rammed his bony forehead into one man running panicked in the mob, then turned and similarly rammed a large screaming woman who also looked to trample the old man. With each of the people he butted away, the children on his back were jostled and pitched forward, hanging on even tighter. William almost yelped at the young boy's grip on his hair, but simply grimaced instead as his head whipped around, looking for any other threats to the old man.

"Up with you, gent! This mad lot will trample you to death if you don't get up and get out!"

He stayed only long enough to make sure that the old timer had gotten to his feet before William felt the bodies of more people bumping hard against him. The children shook back and forth on his back from the jostling of the crowd, and the little girl squealed with fear.

Bollocks! I can't stop for any length of time without this mob trying to run ragabash over us. Have to find a way out... a way out...

Rushing forwards again between wildly scampering bodies, William saw that things were turning much worse. While the crowd had been flowing one way to get away from the fires, now they were falling back over each other, like a great wave slamming against rocks. Some turned out of fear, some turned to keep the sudden change of crowd movement from dragging them under. Still, it was apparent that there was something turning them away quickly. Or someone.

One of the brigands of this seige was ahead, doing his or her damage to the crowd. With the mass of bodies, it was impossible to see who or what was causing this chaos, but it certainly could be no good at all. William's mind raced; he had to find a way to get past this threat, and this crowd.

By jove, that just might work...

Spotting something in the corner of his eye, he turned quickly, rushing towards a merchant. The rotund man was hauling two large sack of money, trying to make his own escape. Narrowing his eyes, William rushed towards him, tilting his head back briefly.

"You'll quite want to hold on tightly, young scabberdashers..."

As he reached the man, he reached his head forward, biting the back of the man's hand. With a yelp, the merchant jumped, dropping one of the sacks.

"OW! What in the hell..." before he could get any further, William had grabbed the top of the sack in his teeth, and turned, rushing back towards the pool of humanity getting backlogged by the unseen threat. "Hey! My money!" the voice chimed after him.

Greed. The same thing that left the merchant standing there yelling instead of fleeing. William hoped it would by him a chance at escape with the children. The weight of his diminutive passengers and the bag of coins in his mouth weighed him down heavily, but he pushed onward. He felt his teeth dig into his gums from holding the sack, the ligaments in his spine stretched like a longbow's string from carrying the kids. It was then that he turned his head to the right, and then whipped it hard back to the left; letting go of the bag with his teeth to send it soaring towards the menace ahead.

He couldn't be sure who it hit, but it certainly hit someone in the crowd, and gold coins burst out on the impact like candy from a pinata. The crowd did not disappoint, as the same ones who were fleeing to and fro from fear now rushed onward in greed, trying to scoop up the coins and pocket what they could.

This could be just the opening William needed...

[Skylar]

Time had a cruel way of operating. Among lazy summer days, filled with sunshine, a clean breeze, and all the blessings that the Hidden One bestowed, it skips by without a single thought that the people experiencing these moments wanted it to last. The minute a man experiencing happiness, he is also saying goodbye to it, after all. Dust in the wind.

And just as inexorably cruel does time treat moments of despair, sadness, loneliness, regret, longing, fear, as if put on a pedestal. Time may very well be a sadistic spectator, pausing its own passage to lick its fingers at the syrupy sweetness of pain. Especially for the death of the innocent.

Skylar could see it play over in his head, again, again, his mind trying to comprehend ways he could still save it, like his very thoughts would mold reality and do away with the disgusting, horrible truth of the matter. He could pull out his mace! He'd have more control over. Or....he could not rush in like a foolish kid. Another good plan, yes.

This didn't happen.

This was all in his mind. He could do it over again. Sure he could. The Hidden One wouldn't allow this........he couldn't. He hadn't. No.

The child was dead.

It's not!

It is.

I refuse! My eyes lie to me!

They do not.

.........I........

In all this, Skylar had lost all feeling in his body, lost all control and stability. He hit he knees upon the cobblestone road, and leaned his head forward, resting upon the bloody road. The crimson substance stains his forehead, but he doesn't seem to notice. Even as the sounds of battle rage outside of him, a war of ego collides within him. His eyes never blink.

[Synful_Blood]

A cruel chuckle escaped Syn's thin lips at the boy's incredulous expression as he realized that it had been by his hand an innocent babe had been slaughtered. She savored each moment as the boy's previous world, one in which the 'good' always triumphed, shattered.

She savored the guilt eating away at his innocence, and possibly even his faith. It would be too merciful by far to kill him now. No, he needed the time to fully realize what he had done, and to live with it. Beings with pure souls were just so...fragile. In the long run, she was doing him a favor.

With another thin chuckle, she left him behind, a broken, helpless figure. She put a thumb over the cut she'd used for her blood manipulation. The last thing she needed now was to bleed out. There were prizes to be gained, after all. there was chaos to revel in.

The scents of blood and panic mingled around her like a glorious symphony, a heaven for her and her twisted mind. People were running in all directions, away from one roaring leviathan and into the gaping maws of his swarm. But she wasn't after these. Let them remember with fear the day the Audeamus struck the Bazaar.

As she came to the destroyed building where Dan Lagh'ratham had begun his massacre, the Elven hybrid stopped, just to smirk at it. There were still weapons and armor scattered about the place, left by the panicked populous. She didn't even see the guards -- probably headed to the shop where the rest of the Audeamus was swarming. It just meant she could take her time.

Among the rubble, she found a plain black full-torso plate, made for a thin man. Slipping it over her head, she still found it more than roomy enough for her skeletal frame. Also of interest was a black short sword of the same metal. It would provide a better reach than her dull dagger, and probably kill better, as well.

That done, she headed closer to the Adamantine Armory. Not that it made any difference to her where she was. But she did wish to see what, exactly, the more powerful members of her fraternity were capable of.

Syn grabbed a Delyn full-torso breastplate and short sword.

[AdventWings]

"Hmm... Yep, this looks like a lot of trouble."

The Bazaar was up in a turmoil that seemed to grow worse by the moment, evident by the stampede that seemed to be going nowhere and everywhere at once. The people outside were a pitiful bunch - running for their lives, only to be rushing to their doom. But that was how things were, move with the crowd or else be trampled to death. Not that death was not very far behind should the indivual fall out of the herd. So it could not really be a sure thing that straying away would yield respite from the mass.

Always hated the crowd. Good thing I was.

Jirou backed away from the window of the Akashiman, his dark brown eyes still scanning the distant roars of inhuman beasts and unearthly wails coming from the center of the market place. The man was glad he took the aged feline's advice and counted all his gold as well as making sure his hired protections were well-equipped for the day. He expected some rather uneventful scare, such as an attempted snatch-and-run at one of the jeweller's shop down the street. This looked nothing like uneventful to him.

"You've closed the Leatherworks Shop already, right, Miri?" The Akashiman blacksmith turned to look at the leather worker huddled in the corner whilst the man gripped a gigantic mallet of Delyn and Nihon. It weighed a good half ton, thanks to the Dehlar core, but it was barely of any trouble for the tower of muscle to use. He preferred to use it to craft a Dragonslayer Tower Sword, but today it would find another, more gruesome use.

The leather worker merely nodded in response, gripping her arms in fear. Jirou saw it in her eyes and, with a resigned huff, grabbed a scaly shirt from behind the counter. Handing the item to the young lady, the inadvertent hero tried to put on his best smile of assurance when his heart was ready to leap from his throat.

"Put this on, Miri. It'll help protect you if I'm not around."

Taking the shirt of scales, the leather worker immediately recognized her handiwork and shot a surprised look at the blacksmith.

"Wait! Isn't this-!"

"Yeah, it belonged to that guy who came in a good while back." He cut her short, hearing some commotion surging by the smithy. "Although you do have a good memory. I guess that helps and stuff."

The thundering screams and feet rushed by the shop at a remarkable speed, not even pausing to let the dust settle against the window sill. The door remained shut, barring entry to all those who may have ill intent. After all, it was safest not to be caught outside. Until otherwise.

"I guess it's just a matter of time before the CAF arrives." The man scoffed, hefting the titanic maul effortlessly onto his shoulder. "Either that, or the Rangers would really be handing those greenhorns their asses when the real battle comes."

***

Outside, however, some of the brave souls dared to face the might of the invaders. Armed with twin revolvers and a rifle strapped to her back, a lone brunette strode out to the streets after the masses had evacuated and levelled her gun at the dark-skinned elf. Shielded against the oppressive sunlight only by a sifan hat and wrapped in a studded leather corset, the lass looked like a stray townsfolk from the quaint cowboy home of Willowtown.

"Halt, Drow!" Lisa shouted at the armored skeleton, a cloud of dust blowing across the deserted arena flanked by empty stores and looted shelves. The gunslinger keeper of Weapons of the Outlanders stood ready in her tight leather pants and steel-tipped boots, belts filled with ammunition for any firefight she may have to create.

If one thing was for certain, she was not going to just wait for the Army to arrive. She would have to contain the damage well before it got anymore out of hand.

"Get on the ground, now! And don't think I can't hit you from here, kid!" She threatened with a cock of the hammer, a single wrong move more than enough to set her finger firing. "I've hit a fly off a donkey's beehind from half a barnhouse away. And don't you think that piece o' metal's gonna keep you from getting hit, either!"

((More merchant NPCs to join the fight. Jirou the Blacksmith and Miri the Leather Worker are holed up in the smithy but Lisa is out and ready to fight. She may not have terribly good aim, but she can hit you if you're not fast enough. Also, her revolvers are loaded with Full Metal Jackets. More than enough to punch a hole through that Delyn breast plate.

Take note, however, that my next post will result in the arrival of the CAF. Prepare yourselve, Nya~ ;)))

[Taskmienster]

This thread has been inactive for over a month and will be temporarily closed. If you wish to continue the thread feel free to PM me at any time and I will reopen it. If it was left inactive due to the loss of the moderator then you can PM me about that as well and when I reopen it I will make sure that it is claimed and completed promptly.

Thank you,
The Mod Staff.