As the Leviathan raised its leg slowly, building up steam pressure for an impaling strike down upon the smaller War-Jack locked into the embrace before it, there came a 'CLANG' from its side. It's eye-plates snapped down to see a mechanika spear jammed into its piping.
"That'll teach ya t' ignore ME!" A rubble-mussed Sunset yelled as she kicked the blast lance home, the weapons' head detonating in a cloud of ruptured hydraulics, steam and oil. Bleeding pressure, the Leviathan staggered, already its great metal claw becoming dead weight and falling away from the Stalwarts defensive shield. It had just enough time to see the Stalwarts' metal plate rotate and the cannon muzzle rise up to press against its eye-plates, even as Sunset dove away from the changing pattern of the war dance between the machines.
"You lose." Penelope whispered quietly.
"Ka-BOOM!" The round’s point blank shot obliterated the visual apparatus of the Leviathan's 'head' and punching through into the central cavity of the great machine behind. Ripping through systems an expanding path of destruction spread as the shell rent its way through Cortex shell and on to the boiler and soul-furnace behind. The force of the un-braced cannon in turn spinning the Stalwart, tearing lines and buckling mechanika, dragging the still tangled mass of both machines backwards onto Penelope, even as the Leviathans' ruptured hell furnace exploded.
BOOOM!
*.........................................................................*
Jonathann continued to be the mouse to the Slayers cat in the sparring game they were engaged in. The Slayer under swung with its damaged claw and Jonathann drove his blade in deep, hearing steam lines vent as internal mechanisms were severed, locking the great talons open. In a lightning quick response the machine pulled back and up, forcing Jonathann to release his grip on the hilt and jump away or be pulled up into the path of the other acid oozing claw as it swept down.
Falling heavily to the cobblestones he rolled away from the black brute of a construct and got to his feet unsteadily, holding his mechanika arm at his side. With out its arcane power his blade became naught but a normal piece of metal. Jonathann watched, gripping his armature even as he staggering further out of reach, while the Hell Jack’s eye-plates glowed at him. With casual ease it reached across and, with a 'ping', snapped the blade.
"Ah now, y'see, that's where you should be aware of the old saying. 'It's not the weapon; it's the wielder that makes the difference'." Jonathann quipped casually, still wincing and holding his arm. Glancing out towards the forest and into the night beyond he saw the ordered, armoured, darkness shrouded forms marching towards the gates.
"Two red flares! NOW!" He yelled to the soldiers behind their defences, and then refocused his attention on the looming Slayer, its undamaged claws splayed wide and descending for the kill.
*........................................................................*
Getting to the warehouse had been easy, given everything else, Ysillith was slightly nervous about it being too easy. This was not something she was inclined to show in front of her 'gels'. She shrugged off the feeling of being watched even as she stood in the same spot where Min had given her the tour guide speech. Ysillih barked orders to the flitting Satyxis as they carried out their work of plunder. Unable to set fire to the stone and slate roofed buildings, she'd been forced to have some of her crew erect barricades of their own against any possible counter attacks by any internal city guard. The signal flares of the defenders were lighting the night above as they wrote messages to each other across the sky.
"Right festive, this mob!" Brissex called, hauling a box that had been deemed 'junk' to the barricades, "We should get up here more often!" She laughed.
"Just be thankful th' bloody coasties aren't this canny," Zanniss huffed in reply, "Can ye imaging every hamlet puttin' on this kind of party? Damn near be enough to force a body t' take up an honest living!"
Ysillith nodded and turned away, confident at seeing every thing was moving smoothly, she rounded up her best and they headed off towards the ferry.
"Remember, if we don't take this boat, th' locals 'll be doin' scrimshaw with our noggins." She whispered fiercely as they cautiously made their way towards the river through back alleys, She raised a hand to halt the group and they did their best to mingle with the shadows of the alley they were crouching in. A large bunch of local militia jogged past.
"I wonder what's gotten in’t in their bonnets." Whispered Rowexan. Ysillith shrugged as she silently counted to ten. When no sound of returning boots came, she stepped out onto the main thoroughfare and looked towards where the troops had gone.
"Hello Lilly!" A familiar voice called from the head of the dock. Turning Ysillith could see Min standing there proudly. Ysillith sighed as she stalked down the street, her cohort spreading out to flank, she saw the huge difference in style that Mins dress sense had undergone.
"Movin' up in the world, are we?" She asked, all pretenses gone, sheathing her regular blades. From Min here came ‘that’ giggle again.
"Now, now. Is that any way to greet friends?" Even in her new kit of expensive clothes, armor and weapons, the girl was trying to be innocent and 'coy'. As her raiders took up positions to cover inwards and outwards, Ysillith folded her arms and asked,
"So, to what do we," She emphasized her band, "Owe th' pleasure? Come t' wave us off the docks, p'rapse?"
"Actually, I'm here to offer you and yours the advantage of a full written pardon, should you need it. As well as opening negotiations for setting up a joint venture and letter of mark." The girl replied simply
*..............................................................................*
Standborough returned to consciousness being carried on some one else's shoulders. As the 'muzz' receded he recognized the feel of one of his troopers armor under one arm, he groaned.
"Yer not gonna let me forget this, are ya?" He asked thickly.
"Mate, I'll be comin' back t' tell yer grand kids!" Sunset laughed even as she struggled to help move him along.
"Wha' ...happened?" He questioned as, with his thoughts clearing, he found his own footing and shrugged the pair of them off.
"Y' took a thump t' the head, Sarge." The trooper informed him, with concern in his voice.
"Then get me a medicine or somethin'! Come near me like this again, I'll hit ye so hard you'll think a Satyxian's romancin' ya!" He snarled at the youngster, who nodded and quickly scurried off to find a salve. Sunset stepped away and just stood there casually beside him, arms folded with a smile still on her face, unperturbed by this military manner. He could see his troops had re-arranged the barricades to form one large breastwork, turning the immediate area into a strong point
"Yer not a mornin' person then?" Sunset quipped while Grant shot a glowering look at her and took stock, rubbing his head.
"Why's every one fussin' over the wreckage?" He blinked to further clear his vision, looking at the tangled smoking mess of some Hell-Jack and Stalwart Jacks wreckage where it rested against the frontage of the ‘Tippled Tunn’.
"Yer operator's under that mess. Seems they fired th' Jacks' cannon without bracin' it or somthin' first. Brought the whole caboose down on t' themselves and the building behind." Sunset called as Grant surged towards the twisted pile of scrap as his adrenaline kicked in.
"YOU!" Grant called, while thrusting a hand back out at Sunset, "Gun! Now!" Sunset blinked but once, instantly handing over one of her pistols however without comment. With a two handed, braced grip he shot his way through the heavy lock and then put a booted foot through the door.
"Lights! Now!" He called as he stepped into the 'Tippled Tunn's main room. As some troopers came in bearing arcano-lanterns, he could make out a form amongst the wreckage of tables, bricks and glass. As he rushed to the figure’s side, he tossed the gun back to the Elf who’d sauntered in behind him, crouching down and gently cradling Penelope.
"Medic! NOW!"
"Ooo," Penelope groaned quietly, "I bent the 'Jack. Grandpa's gonna have me cleaning the grease traps forever." She mumbled softly.
"Shh... Lass, we'll get ye patched up." Grant crooned as Sunset dropped down on the girls other side and began to gently check out the extent of her injuries. She yelped and sucked her hand as arcane energy sparked at her.
"She's wearin' a damn power field harness. Where's the turbine?" Sunset asked, puzzled.
Penelope giggled, then coughed.
"Grandpa rigged it up," She said softy, "Draws extra power back through the relays," She moaned slightly, "Uses some of the excess of the 'Jacks turbine." She coughed again.
"Sarge?" A voice called from the doorway, "We got problems!" As Grant heard gunfire from outside he glanced at Sunset, who nodded and took charge of tending for the girl.
"You get better there, young 'un. I owe you money." Standborough said quietly with a final, gentle stroke of her hair. Then he stood and strode back out into the night.
*...............................................................................*
In the Hell Jacks vision the target stood motionless. Systems indicated the time, counting down, to impact. The target raised and arm, ducking its head, something crystal glinted in the upraised, metal, palm.
*FLASH*
The blast of light so intense even the approaching lines of un-dead paused, stunned in confusion. With no signal coming from its vision-plates the Slayer could do little more than follow through. Measuring the forces transmitted back through its arms, there was no indication of contact. The sounds of combat, rifle fire and other chaos made location of target impossible. Rearing back it swept the area around itself, trying to connect or at least stave off any other attacks in its blinded state.
Jonathann crouched down beside the flailing Hell Jacks haunches, continuing to quickly 'adjust' things in his mechanika arm. He shook his head as he thought,
*His uncle was going to kill him, unless of course his plan didn't work.* He smiled shrugging as the mechanika of his prosthetic armature was sheathed in a nimbus of brilliant energy, *In which case...*
Systems all up the Slayers left hand side began flagging errors, failure trips activating and faults being signalled. It clamped a great taloned fist to its side but its sensors registered nothing. As hazy images scrolled and flickered through its vision receptors as its lenses cleared, it turned its head to 'see' the target detaching itself from ‘something. Part of the target trailing back to the 'something' now some how buried in its side, aglow with blazing blue energy that before had sheathed the annoying blade weapon of its target.
Jonathann laughed –his voice sounding a little maniacal even to his own ringing ears -at the huge midnight black construct that seemed to be standing there dazed and confused, slowly beginning to raise a great metal fist again to strike.
"Well, at least doing stupid sh#t like this gets easier with practice!" He yelled as he tore himself and the turbine away from the disconnected, separate mechanika now buried deep inside the great machine. As the conduits separated from the prosthetic, the power stopped and the energy field collapsed trapping it there.
"BOOM!"
*....................................................................*
*Bows* I again hope my work is keeping the readers entertained.
Edit: Yay! Page two! =)
Hunters, Hunted. (An Iron Kingdoms Story)
Moderator: LadyTevar
Re: Hunters, Hunted. (An Iron Kingdoms Story)
WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! BOOOOOOM!!!!
Yes, I love this story
Yes, I love this story
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
Re: Hunters, Hunted. (An Iron Kingdoms Story)
*.......................................................................*
The look of shock was on her face for an instant and Ysillith regretted the slip.
"And who in Uncaern are you t' offer me that?" She could see her gels glancing at one another, thinking more of the money suddenly being offered than of the raid they were up to their horns in.
"Oh, that. Y'see the name is Mellani Rystell. Sister of Commander Jonathann Rystell. Through our political contacts I might be able to get the lot of you off any ropes your actions here would otherwise earn you. As for the letter, I have enough personal wealth to fund an 'expedition'." Mellani finished simply, grinning.
Ysillith crossed her arms, "So, I'm s'posed to take your offer of a pardon and word of a letter of mark an' then just walk away from all that swag?" she waived back in the direction of the warehouses.
'No. You're supposed to trust my word of a pardon, take my letters of assurances and walk away with all that swag. Assuming you don't get caught for anything on the way back down to oh say Five Fingers, that'll need intervention." Mellani replied, unhooking something from her hip and spinning it at Ysillith.
"Wha...?" Ysillith instinctively caught the scroll tube thrown at her.
"That little chat we had? All true. While I don't dwell on revenge? I am so very, very happy to have you steal it with both hands." Mellani replied, her look dark and fey.
They were interrupted as the lithe form of Teshka came hurtling out of an alley, throwing herself into an acrobatic cat roll, pulling pistols and firing into the thing that leap between the shadows through the space she'd just been. Mellani saw the bullets disappear into the nothingness that the darkness fleetingly became. Ysilliths' cohort instinctively drew themselves back to back against this new threat.
"Ha! Winged ya, ye b#tch!" Teshka yelled, coming to her feet and running up to Ysillith.
"Problems Boss! Kierra, Neera, dead. Something's a mite p#ssed that I've made it out of their frame up. Seems someone wants t' pin a slaughter on us." The words delivered with a chain-guns speed, while she holstered her spent pistols and drew fresh ones, turning to cover the flare lit street. Ysillith simply nodded,
"Right! You lot! Back t' the rest, get 'em moving with the swag. Time t' GO!" She called, pulling her great sword one handed and a pistol with another. She could see Min-Mellani already had battle dagger in each hand even as Mellani and Teshka moving back to back with her.
"Go! Get! We'll show this sh'to-dat a lesson about tryin' t' screw over a Satyxii!" Ysillith hollered, though the rest of the raiders really didn't need to be told twice, half already running on their way back to the warehouse. As the three watched the pale, crimson eyed, face shift from shadow to shadow Ysillith asked,
"Any ideas?"
"We shoot the b#tch?" Teshka replied curtly.
"Simple, elegant, I like it." Mellani replied with a smile in her voice.
"Strewth! why do I get the jesters." Ysillith lamented. All of them still wary of the constantly shifting shadows as they turned, alert and watching the changing darkness.
"We've not long afore the gels turn up and this todger's going t' make this street look like happy hour at a 'Toruks wayside charnel pit', unless we come up with something SOON." Ysillith noted.
"Yer th' boss, Boss." Teshka replied a little unhelpfully, still concentrating on getting a clear shot.
"I've got an idea." Mellani piped up.
"Am I gonna like it?" Ysillith asked.
"Um, in a word? No." From the darkness, something laughed.
*.................................................................*
Sergeant Muntz squared his shoulders when he saw the double red flares go up from the 'East Gate' entrance. Seeing his expression one of the troopers asked.
"Are we in trouble Sarge?"
"Nuthin' we aren't trained for. Get ready boys! Th' Captain couldn't hold 'em there, which means they'll be here soon." He saw the nervous looks on the faces of his troopers.
"Not to worry boy-o's ! We've just got to hold this point an' let the heavies roll 'em up." He grinned and tried to bolster spirits, when someone swore. A couple of streets away the snout of a Bone jack emerged. As the melding of machine and beast stalked fully into view, a second then a third came around the same corner. Looking up at the night sky Muntz could see other positions signalling contact.
"Right! Flares! One green, one red! Remember yer training and you'll live t' see the dawn." He called as he primed his pistol.
*.......................................................................*
Private Kerstell wasn't blinded by Jonathanns' blast of light, but as he pulled the cracked and smoking arcano lenses from his head, he was glad the troops had been positioned in the side streets. When the Helljack blew to scrap, he ducked instinctively, though immediately bounding over the barricades and instantly running to the Captains' aid. Burning and smouldering wreckage, wafts of fumes, pits and other scars littered the stones all around the place.
"Right!" He called back, "Re-arrange the barricades! The Captain's signalled an over-run. We're on our own till the heavies turn up!" The soldiers quickly set about shifting material to turn the centre of the plaza of the 'East Way' into their own defensible fort. Throwing his armoured great coat over the splayed form of Jonathann, he did little more than tamp out any smouldering spots and check to make sure most of him was still 'In one piece' before lifting Jonathann up over one arm.
"That's either the braves or the STUPIDEST thing I ever saw!" A soldier who'd come to give aid commented.
"Oh? You'd rather have had that thing smacking you about then?" Kerstell snarled while trying to hurry their retreat back to the barricades along. He could see the shadows roiling past the entryway lanterns.
"Um, no, um, er, Sarge." The trooper stammered, "D@mn bravest thing I ever saw, sir!" As they piled back amongst the protection of the wood, hastily tossed sandbags, pikes and bayoneted rifle muzzles.
*......................................................*
In the great hall of the church a small cluster of figures watched over a large table, some placing markers about the town map displayed there. Sergeant Harcliff sighed as a red square was placed at the lines marking the 'East Way'.
"Any other reports from the river dock?"
"No, sir. Send up a 'request for' signal?" A young trooper asked. Harcliff shook his head.
"No, concentrate on getting the heavies out and coordinated. Now that they're in both gates, it's only a matter of time before they start trying to crack into peoples homes."
"Sir! Message from the steeple! The works 'ave sent out another 'Jack!"
Harcliff at first looked surprised and confused, and then he groaned and sighed resignedly,
"That idiot Myrtell! He's trying on one last blaze of glory! SH#T! Curse old men and their d@mn pride!" Harcliff started calling orders, as messengers scurried up and down the church steeple to turn the orders into signals.
*.........................................................................*
"All right! Lets 'ave yer idea then!" Ysillith called. Mellani raised an arm and a small, eldritch ball floated up. Raising gracefully into the night sky, to float some fifteen feet above them. She grinned,
"And the Ascendants said! 'Let there be LIGHT!'" Instantly the area was illuminated as brightly as day, they all blinked momentarily, "Bright enough?" She chirped.
"Oh, aye lass, neat trick." Ysillith replied as Mellani popped the arcano-device back into a great coat pocket.
"Um, boss?"
"Aye?"
"Oh......." Said Mellani, looking down, as she felt both Satyxis leap away from her. She'd never thought of her own shadow as being malevolent before.
*.................................................................*
Gimbert Myrtell had worked his crew hard to finish the 'first' Stalwart. He'd been proud as punch when Penelope had come storming back into the shop, full of p#ss and vinegar, and ready to give 'what for' to the enemy. As they'd jogged out of the factory together, he'd grinned like an idiot for just a second before rounding on his men and driving them harder to finish his 'side project'.
The 'Jack that rumbled out into the night in front of him bore little resemblance to the labour 'Jack it had been mere days before. He hadn't been happy with the things he'd had to do with it, but a labour 'Jack chassis could never be as quick or nimble as a full blown war machine. He grinned mirthlessly, amused by the fact that he'd finally been forced to appreciate Khardoran engineering.
When the young apprentice he'd stationed on the roof had called down about the two red flares from 'Green Gate'. His blokes had thrown there all into getting the final work done. When the call had come about 'East Gate' and the change that had come over Gimbert, they'd worked like folk possessed. As the final links and relays had fired up and the machine had walked out into the night, Gimbert had personally closed the workshop doors.
"I'm goin' t' get Pen and Crow. You make sure there's a shop t' bring 'em home to." And man and machine had stalked off together.
When he saw the first Bonejack step out in front of 'his' eye-plates, Gimbert did little more than unhinge the great shield plated arms and crush the enemy machine between the heavy armored sleeves. As a second Bonejack appeared, 'he' casually swiped it sideways into a building’s stone wall, hearing metal buckle, bones crack and its boiler rupture. He 'felt' the third machine brush against his power field as it leapt, giving him just enough time to roll forward, pull his gun and fire into the Cyrixian machines bulk, even as 'Chuffy' spun in place and crushed it into another 'wall decoration'. Picking himself up, Gimbert reloaded his pistol, while navigating the 'Jacks turn back on course, the hulking machines eye-plates glowing a malevolent 'ginger-red' as it continued to stalk the town.
*.................................................................*
Standborough saw the cloud of darkness sweeping in through the 'Green Gate Way', heard his troopers shooting randomly at the approaching threat.
"Right! You lot! Organise!" He yelled to bring order into their ranks. "Lines front! Move, move!" As the soldiers re-organised their formation, he took stock of wounded and the weapons available to him.
"Two line Volley! Every one else, grab a pike! Get the worst of the wounded int' the 'Tunn'!" He glanced as Sunset stepped out and gave he gave her a quizzical look.
"Gave the lass something t' help until somethin' better......" She paused seeing the approaching darkness and the figures resolving, even as the rifles began opening fire. She swore inventively, even Standborough raising an eyebrow,
"If'n I'd known yer Captain was goin' t' start a bl@@dy war, I would 'ave charged 'im EXTRA!" She yelled as a pistol appeared in her hand and she took aim at the closing forms of un-dead.
*...............................................................*
*Bows* Happy I am that my characters are being entertaining.
The look of shock was on her face for an instant and Ysillith regretted the slip.
"And who in Uncaern are you t' offer me that?" She could see her gels glancing at one another, thinking more of the money suddenly being offered than of the raid they were up to their horns in.
"Oh, that. Y'see the name is Mellani Rystell. Sister of Commander Jonathann Rystell. Through our political contacts I might be able to get the lot of you off any ropes your actions here would otherwise earn you. As for the letter, I have enough personal wealth to fund an 'expedition'." Mellani finished simply, grinning.
Ysillith crossed her arms, "So, I'm s'posed to take your offer of a pardon and word of a letter of mark an' then just walk away from all that swag?" she waived back in the direction of the warehouses.
'No. You're supposed to trust my word of a pardon, take my letters of assurances and walk away with all that swag. Assuming you don't get caught for anything on the way back down to oh say Five Fingers, that'll need intervention." Mellani replied, unhooking something from her hip and spinning it at Ysillith.
"Wha...?" Ysillith instinctively caught the scroll tube thrown at her.
"That little chat we had? All true. While I don't dwell on revenge? I am so very, very happy to have you steal it with both hands." Mellani replied, her look dark and fey.
They were interrupted as the lithe form of Teshka came hurtling out of an alley, throwing herself into an acrobatic cat roll, pulling pistols and firing into the thing that leap between the shadows through the space she'd just been. Mellani saw the bullets disappear into the nothingness that the darkness fleetingly became. Ysilliths' cohort instinctively drew themselves back to back against this new threat.
"Ha! Winged ya, ye b#tch!" Teshka yelled, coming to her feet and running up to Ysillith.
"Problems Boss! Kierra, Neera, dead. Something's a mite p#ssed that I've made it out of their frame up. Seems someone wants t' pin a slaughter on us." The words delivered with a chain-guns speed, while she holstered her spent pistols and drew fresh ones, turning to cover the flare lit street. Ysillith simply nodded,
"Right! You lot! Back t' the rest, get 'em moving with the swag. Time t' GO!" She called, pulling her great sword one handed and a pistol with another. She could see Min-Mellani already had battle dagger in each hand even as Mellani and Teshka moving back to back with her.
"Go! Get! We'll show this sh'to-dat a lesson about tryin' t' screw over a Satyxii!" Ysillith hollered, though the rest of the raiders really didn't need to be told twice, half already running on their way back to the warehouse. As the three watched the pale, crimson eyed, face shift from shadow to shadow Ysillith asked,
"Any ideas?"
"We shoot the b#tch?" Teshka replied curtly.
"Simple, elegant, I like it." Mellani replied with a smile in her voice.
"Strewth! why do I get the jesters." Ysillith lamented. All of them still wary of the constantly shifting shadows as they turned, alert and watching the changing darkness.
"We've not long afore the gels turn up and this todger's going t' make this street look like happy hour at a 'Toruks wayside charnel pit', unless we come up with something SOON." Ysillith noted.
"Yer th' boss, Boss." Teshka replied a little unhelpfully, still concentrating on getting a clear shot.
"I've got an idea." Mellani piped up.
"Am I gonna like it?" Ysillith asked.
"Um, in a word? No." From the darkness, something laughed.
*.................................................................*
Sergeant Muntz squared his shoulders when he saw the double red flares go up from the 'East Gate' entrance. Seeing his expression one of the troopers asked.
"Are we in trouble Sarge?"
"Nuthin' we aren't trained for. Get ready boys! Th' Captain couldn't hold 'em there, which means they'll be here soon." He saw the nervous looks on the faces of his troopers.
"Not to worry boy-o's ! We've just got to hold this point an' let the heavies roll 'em up." He grinned and tried to bolster spirits, when someone swore. A couple of streets away the snout of a Bone jack emerged. As the melding of machine and beast stalked fully into view, a second then a third came around the same corner. Looking up at the night sky Muntz could see other positions signalling contact.
"Right! Flares! One green, one red! Remember yer training and you'll live t' see the dawn." He called as he primed his pistol.
*.......................................................................*
Private Kerstell wasn't blinded by Jonathanns' blast of light, but as he pulled the cracked and smoking arcano lenses from his head, he was glad the troops had been positioned in the side streets. When the Helljack blew to scrap, he ducked instinctively, though immediately bounding over the barricades and instantly running to the Captains' aid. Burning and smouldering wreckage, wafts of fumes, pits and other scars littered the stones all around the place.
"Right!" He called back, "Re-arrange the barricades! The Captain's signalled an over-run. We're on our own till the heavies turn up!" The soldiers quickly set about shifting material to turn the centre of the plaza of the 'East Way' into their own defensible fort. Throwing his armoured great coat over the splayed form of Jonathann, he did little more than tamp out any smouldering spots and check to make sure most of him was still 'In one piece' before lifting Jonathann up over one arm.
"That's either the braves or the STUPIDEST thing I ever saw!" A soldier who'd come to give aid commented.
"Oh? You'd rather have had that thing smacking you about then?" Kerstell snarled while trying to hurry their retreat back to the barricades along. He could see the shadows roiling past the entryway lanterns.
"Um, no, um, er, Sarge." The trooper stammered, "D@mn bravest thing I ever saw, sir!" As they piled back amongst the protection of the wood, hastily tossed sandbags, pikes and bayoneted rifle muzzles.
*......................................................*
In the great hall of the church a small cluster of figures watched over a large table, some placing markers about the town map displayed there. Sergeant Harcliff sighed as a red square was placed at the lines marking the 'East Way'.
"Any other reports from the river dock?"
"No, sir. Send up a 'request for' signal?" A young trooper asked. Harcliff shook his head.
"No, concentrate on getting the heavies out and coordinated. Now that they're in both gates, it's only a matter of time before they start trying to crack into peoples homes."
"Sir! Message from the steeple! The works 'ave sent out another 'Jack!"
Harcliff at first looked surprised and confused, and then he groaned and sighed resignedly,
"That idiot Myrtell! He's trying on one last blaze of glory! SH#T! Curse old men and their d@mn pride!" Harcliff started calling orders, as messengers scurried up and down the church steeple to turn the orders into signals.
*.........................................................................*
"All right! Lets 'ave yer idea then!" Ysillith called. Mellani raised an arm and a small, eldritch ball floated up. Raising gracefully into the night sky, to float some fifteen feet above them. She grinned,
"And the Ascendants said! 'Let there be LIGHT!'" Instantly the area was illuminated as brightly as day, they all blinked momentarily, "Bright enough?" She chirped.
"Oh, aye lass, neat trick." Ysillith replied as Mellani popped the arcano-device back into a great coat pocket.
"Um, boss?"
"Aye?"
"Oh......." Said Mellani, looking down, as she felt both Satyxis leap away from her. She'd never thought of her own shadow as being malevolent before.
*.................................................................*
Gimbert Myrtell had worked his crew hard to finish the 'first' Stalwart. He'd been proud as punch when Penelope had come storming back into the shop, full of p#ss and vinegar, and ready to give 'what for' to the enemy. As they'd jogged out of the factory together, he'd grinned like an idiot for just a second before rounding on his men and driving them harder to finish his 'side project'.
The 'Jack that rumbled out into the night in front of him bore little resemblance to the labour 'Jack it had been mere days before. He hadn't been happy with the things he'd had to do with it, but a labour 'Jack chassis could never be as quick or nimble as a full blown war machine. He grinned mirthlessly, amused by the fact that he'd finally been forced to appreciate Khardoran engineering.
When the young apprentice he'd stationed on the roof had called down about the two red flares from 'Green Gate'. His blokes had thrown there all into getting the final work done. When the call had come about 'East Gate' and the change that had come over Gimbert, they'd worked like folk possessed. As the final links and relays had fired up and the machine had walked out into the night, Gimbert had personally closed the workshop doors.
"I'm goin' t' get Pen and Crow. You make sure there's a shop t' bring 'em home to." And man and machine had stalked off together.
When he saw the first Bonejack step out in front of 'his' eye-plates, Gimbert did little more than unhinge the great shield plated arms and crush the enemy machine between the heavy armored sleeves. As a second Bonejack appeared, 'he' casually swiped it sideways into a building’s stone wall, hearing metal buckle, bones crack and its boiler rupture. He 'felt' the third machine brush against his power field as it leapt, giving him just enough time to roll forward, pull his gun and fire into the Cyrixian machines bulk, even as 'Chuffy' spun in place and crushed it into another 'wall decoration'. Picking himself up, Gimbert reloaded his pistol, while navigating the 'Jacks turn back on course, the hulking machines eye-plates glowing a malevolent 'ginger-red' as it continued to stalk the town.
*.................................................................*
Standborough saw the cloud of darkness sweeping in through the 'Green Gate Way', heard his troopers shooting randomly at the approaching threat.
"Right! You lot! Organise!" He yelled to bring order into their ranks. "Lines front! Move, move!" As the soldiers re-organised their formation, he took stock of wounded and the weapons available to him.
"Two line Volley! Every one else, grab a pike! Get the worst of the wounded int' the 'Tunn'!" He glanced as Sunset stepped out and gave he gave her a quizzical look.
"Gave the lass something t' help until somethin' better......" She paused seeing the approaching darkness and the figures resolving, even as the rifles began opening fire. She swore inventively, even Standborough raising an eyebrow,
"If'n I'd known yer Captain was goin' t' start a bl@@dy war, I would 'ave charged 'im EXTRA!" She yelled as a pistol appeared in her hand and she took aim at the closing forms of un-dead.
*...............................................................*
*Bows* Happy I am that my characters are being entertaining.
Re: Hunters, Hunted. (An Iron Kingdoms Story)
Far more than Entertaining, my dear. This is one of the stories I actively search out to see if it's updated
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
Re: Hunters, Hunted. (An Iron Kingdoms Story)
*..................................................................*
Muntz yelled, part anger, part rally, part orders. His voice carrying over the crack of rifle fire, the snapping of jaws, the hissing of boilers and the scrabble of talon clawed feet. Occasionally a blast lance detonated in the mix. A couple of Bone-jacks already lay in twisted heaps before the barricades, early victims of blast lance thrusts. Four other machines continued to snap and worry at the defenders behind their hedge of blast pikes and rifles, being more circumspect so as not to share the fate of the first few.
Suddenly one of the machines in the rear lunged forward and, using a front 'Jack as a 'spring board', it cleared the pikes and vaulted into the defenders midst. Shrugging off the random rifle rounds its snapping, rending jaws flailed left and right. As a trooper disappeared under its bulk, Muntz grabbed a blast pike,
"Brace yer selves, LADS!" He yelled over the tumult as he snapped the haft across an armoured knee and with a two handed grip, drove it into the machines side.
*............................................................................*
Gimbert and 'Chuffy' continued to stalk towards the "East gate' entrance. The hulking armour plated machine a bulwark in its own right. Whenever a Bonejack scuttled across their path the heavy layers or metal proved nigh on impervious to their talons and jaws. While the makeshift warmachine simply crushed, stomped or squashed the lighter constructs out of the way. Gimbert cursed when one, slightly more nimble, 'Jack squirmed out of 'Chuffies' grasp as it tried to compress the smaller machine between its plates. He watched it limp away, its damaged hull leaking oil and venting green vapor. Following as best he could, given the compromises he's had to make with the former labor 'Jack chassis, he paused 'Chuffy' as it came to the entrance to a large plaza formed by a square of buildings. There waiting in a semi-circle squatted a half dozen Bonejacks. From the streets behind he heard other talon clawed feet scrabbling on cobblestones. The hunter had become the hunted.
*.................................................................................*
Acting Sergeant Kerstell shouted orders to 'his' troopers. The dark, gloom shedding armoured un-dead surged against the weapons and barricades of the defenders. As mechanika blast pikes detonated against heavy plate and rifles fired almost point blank, Kerstell kept the soldiers together and organised. Helping pass fresh lances out and aiding in the swapping of rifles.
Suddenly the hulking form of a Bane Knight materialised almost within the barricade and began cleaving through lance hafts, clearing a path for its lesser kind behind it. Kerstell swore, grabbing up one of the last grenades, he pushed forward to meet it. Firing his pistol point blank to distract it as he hastily shoved the munitions down, inside its chest plate even as the hulking un-dead raised its pole arm to strike back. Kerstell desperately tried to get him-self and the nearby troops under the shielding bulk of the barricades for some sort of cover.
*BOOM*
*.........................................................................*
Sergeant Godwin and his men mustered outside the towns' smallish church hall. He initially didn't understand why his group had been ordered to wait in and around the cramped converted communications point, as opposed to the comfortably appointed and decked out barracks complex. It had, however, allowed him to stand in the background and watch the locals 'wage war'.
As he'd listened to the reports come in and watched the strategic situation unfold on the large map table; he'd come to grudgingly admire the local leaders' knowledge. As information had come in, a cascade system of responses had been acted upon. The fellow in charge here had still been able to exert his discretion and skills, while still broadly following the main plan outlined by the senior bloke who was now out holding down a front. In all, Godwin was impressed; that and the fact that his mercs had been paid on time and up front had garnered the local’s a little something extra.
He finished with his Full Plates buckle and dropped his helm on his head. He looked around at the rest of his unit squaring themselves away, liking the usual professionalism they showed. He hefted his 'new' (free! :3) 'Blast' Halberd.
"Right!" He shouted, "Time t' earn pay and bonuses!" As a small knot of local 'regulars' and signalers gathered behind his already formed up 'SteelHeads'.
"Remember! We're the ones' bein' paid to pull these hicks outta this mess!" He could see his folk smiling behind their heavy gorgetts and helmet brows; his 'allotment' of regular ‘locals’ was frowning though.
*Stuff 'em!* He thought, the moral of his men mattered in the here and now.
"Who are we?" He called
"Steelheads!" Cane the response.
"WHO are we?" He yelled
"STEELHEADS!" They shouted back.
"WHO ARE WE!" He hollered.
" STEELHEADS !" The troop roared as one.
"D@mn Right! Now let's go make some folk regret it!" The phalanx of steel wrapped men and their mechanika weapons turned as one and marched off to shift the tide of battle.
*..................................................................*
Gimbert Myrtell stood with his back to the engine housing of his makeshift warjack 'chuffy' as the four Cyrixian Bone-jacks stalked up the street towards him. He quickly holstered his pistol, while drawing a long handled; point tipped mace like object from the quiver/pouch across his back. With a flick of his wrist it telescoped out into the eight foot Blast Lance.
"All right ye sods! Who wants t' be first, hey? Which one o' you scuttling scrap piles wants to try an' take a bite?"
Chuffy swung its eye-plates, scanning the crescent of Bone-jacks arrayed in the plaza. It opened its cowled sleeves wider and, with a pressure driven 'Pffsht - thunk'!, a 'Jack sized version of Gimberts' blast lance extended. The heavy 'Jack adjusted its stance as the semi-circle collapsed in towards it. Timing its strike, Chuffy drove its lance through the maw of one, instantly blowing it into a tangled mass of smashed machinery. With another 'pffsht - thunk' a second lance sprang out as the Bone-jacks began to scrabble and snap around Chuffies' metal 'skirts'. Trying to find a weakness in its massively armoured front. All the while it swung and lunged at the more agile machines in return.
Gimbert jabbed and feinted in the narrower space of the street. None of the machines facing him seemed eager to risk the wrath of the explosive tipped device the old man was swinging with deft skill having many long years of experience controlling his arms.
*..................................................................*
Sunset was caught in the mantra of combat. Sighting on a target, aiming, softly squeezing the trigger, stamping on the reloading stirrup and sighting in the next shot. As one gun cycled empty, she'd deftly switch weapons and continue the process with the other hand now dominant. Always in the back of her mind the countdown of shots until she had to call.
"OUT! RELOADING!" As she dropped down amongst the rubble, wreckage, the wounded and the younger soldiers maniacally handing out cleaned and reloaded rifles for spent; snatching up spent Blast lances to affix new heads and pass them up to the defenders.
Grant stood high on the barricade and yelled orders, all the while shooting into the armored Bane Thralls that were trying to fight their way into the bulwark. He yelled in frustration as a few un-dead slipped past and headed further into the town. He vented his frustration about not being able to stop them on the ones clustered about him here. Under the shifting, flickering light from the signal flares drifting over head and the light cast by the street lamps in the creatures' strange pall all adding to the mix to make for a surreal eldritch atmosphere.
Everything turned further into nightmare as a group of gaunt, gothic clad armored knights materialised seemingly from thin air, one also appearing in the very heart of the bulwarks interior space. The bale green fire in the sockets of its eyes bright as it shifted the grip upon its weapon and braced to drive said steel into Standborough’s back.
*......................................................................*
Muntz picked himself up and shook his head to try and clear the spots from his eyes and the ringing in his ears. Most of the troopers who'd also been dazed by the blast had fallen back and relieved by soldiers from the flanking spot facing down 'Potters way'. The three remaining Bone-jacks continued to snap and lunge at the 'pike' line. Scars and dents attested to the damage that the near point blank rifle fire was managing to inflict.
"You all right, Sarg?" A concerned trooper asked. Muntz nodded and waived him back to helping at the barricade with every one else, while he continued to blink and shake his head. As he tried to find his voice and organize a tighter line, he noticed two of his troopers squatting down in the far corner of the space and fiddling with some of the blast lances.
"Aven't got time t' muck about lads!" He shouted hoarsely.
"No, Sarg. Just that Zemp here's got an idea from seein' yer thing with the 'Ghoul Goose'." One of them piped up. Muntz looked closer and saw they'd rammed a loaded lance’s haft into the spent socket of a second shaft and were now hurriedly wiring a 'cross guard'/brace at the 'grip' end for the extra leverage the wielder would need to use the oversized weapon. As its application dawned on him, Muntz grinned.
"All right, boys! Brilliant thinkin'!" He shouted happily, thumping private Zemp on the back, while grabbing up the finished makeshift 'Blast Pike'.
*................................................................*
Thank'e for the kind words M'Lady. *Bows* I shall take that as high praise indeed.
And here is where I work the Title into the story.
Also a new 'twist' a the SteelHead mercenary company is brought into play. Shows how old the tale is, they were a 'new' addition to the game way back then.
Muntz yelled, part anger, part rally, part orders. His voice carrying over the crack of rifle fire, the snapping of jaws, the hissing of boilers and the scrabble of talon clawed feet. Occasionally a blast lance detonated in the mix. A couple of Bone-jacks already lay in twisted heaps before the barricades, early victims of blast lance thrusts. Four other machines continued to snap and worry at the defenders behind their hedge of blast pikes and rifles, being more circumspect so as not to share the fate of the first few.
Suddenly one of the machines in the rear lunged forward and, using a front 'Jack as a 'spring board', it cleared the pikes and vaulted into the defenders midst. Shrugging off the random rifle rounds its snapping, rending jaws flailed left and right. As a trooper disappeared under its bulk, Muntz grabbed a blast pike,
"Brace yer selves, LADS!" He yelled over the tumult as he snapped the haft across an armoured knee and with a two handed grip, drove it into the machines side.
*............................................................................*
Gimbert and 'Chuffy' continued to stalk towards the "East gate' entrance. The hulking armour plated machine a bulwark in its own right. Whenever a Bonejack scuttled across their path the heavy layers or metal proved nigh on impervious to their talons and jaws. While the makeshift warmachine simply crushed, stomped or squashed the lighter constructs out of the way. Gimbert cursed when one, slightly more nimble, 'Jack squirmed out of 'Chuffies' grasp as it tried to compress the smaller machine between its plates. He watched it limp away, its damaged hull leaking oil and venting green vapor. Following as best he could, given the compromises he's had to make with the former labor 'Jack chassis, he paused 'Chuffy' as it came to the entrance to a large plaza formed by a square of buildings. There waiting in a semi-circle squatted a half dozen Bonejacks. From the streets behind he heard other talon clawed feet scrabbling on cobblestones. The hunter had become the hunted.
*.................................................................................*
Acting Sergeant Kerstell shouted orders to 'his' troopers. The dark, gloom shedding armoured un-dead surged against the weapons and barricades of the defenders. As mechanika blast pikes detonated against heavy plate and rifles fired almost point blank, Kerstell kept the soldiers together and organised. Helping pass fresh lances out and aiding in the swapping of rifles.
Suddenly the hulking form of a Bane Knight materialised almost within the barricade and began cleaving through lance hafts, clearing a path for its lesser kind behind it. Kerstell swore, grabbing up one of the last grenades, he pushed forward to meet it. Firing his pistol point blank to distract it as he hastily shoved the munitions down, inside its chest plate even as the hulking un-dead raised its pole arm to strike back. Kerstell desperately tried to get him-self and the nearby troops under the shielding bulk of the barricades for some sort of cover.
*BOOM*
*.........................................................................*
Sergeant Godwin and his men mustered outside the towns' smallish church hall. He initially didn't understand why his group had been ordered to wait in and around the cramped converted communications point, as opposed to the comfortably appointed and decked out barracks complex. It had, however, allowed him to stand in the background and watch the locals 'wage war'.
As he'd listened to the reports come in and watched the strategic situation unfold on the large map table; he'd come to grudgingly admire the local leaders' knowledge. As information had come in, a cascade system of responses had been acted upon. The fellow in charge here had still been able to exert his discretion and skills, while still broadly following the main plan outlined by the senior bloke who was now out holding down a front. In all, Godwin was impressed; that and the fact that his mercs had been paid on time and up front had garnered the local’s a little something extra.
He finished with his Full Plates buckle and dropped his helm on his head. He looked around at the rest of his unit squaring themselves away, liking the usual professionalism they showed. He hefted his 'new' (free! :3) 'Blast' Halberd.
"Right!" He shouted, "Time t' earn pay and bonuses!" As a small knot of local 'regulars' and signalers gathered behind his already formed up 'SteelHeads'.
"Remember! We're the ones' bein' paid to pull these hicks outta this mess!" He could see his folk smiling behind their heavy gorgetts and helmet brows; his 'allotment' of regular ‘locals’ was frowning though.
*Stuff 'em!* He thought, the moral of his men mattered in the here and now.
"Who are we?" He called
"Steelheads!" Cane the response.
"WHO are we?" He yelled
"STEELHEADS!" They shouted back.
"WHO ARE WE!" He hollered.
" STEELHEADS !" The troop roared as one.
"D@mn Right! Now let's go make some folk regret it!" The phalanx of steel wrapped men and their mechanika weapons turned as one and marched off to shift the tide of battle.
*..................................................................*
Gimbert Myrtell stood with his back to the engine housing of his makeshift warjack 'chuffy' as the four Cyrixian Bone-jacks stalked up the street towards him. He quickly holstered his pistol, while drawing a long handled; point tipped mace like object from the quiver/pouch across his back. With a flick of his wrist it telescoped out into the eight foot Blast Lance.
"All right ye sods! Who wants t' be first, hey? Which one o' you scuttling scrap piles wants to try an' take a bite?"
Chuffy swung its eye-plates, scanning the crescent of Bone-jacks arrayed in the plaza. It opened its cowled sleeves wider and, with a pressure driven 'Pffsht - thunk'!, a 'Jack sized version of Gimberts' blast lance extended. The heavy 'Jack adjusted its stance as the semi-circle collapsed in towards it. Timing its strike, Chuffy drove its lance through the maw of one, instantly blowing it into a tangled mass of smashed machinery. With another 'pffsht - thunk' a second lance sprang out as the Bone-jacks began to scrabble and snap around Chuffies' metal 'skirts'. Trying to find a weakness in its massively armoured front. All the while it swung and lunged at the more agile machines in return.
Gimbert jabbed and feinted in the narrower space of the street. None of the machines facing him seemed eager to risk the wrath of the explosive tipped device the old man was swinging with deft skill having many long years of experience controlling his arms.
*..................................................................*
Sunset was caught in the mantra of combat. Sighting on a target, aiming, softly squeezing the trigger, stamping on the reloading stirrup and sighting in the next shot. As one gun cycled empty, she'd deftly switch weapons and continue the process with the other hand now dominant. Always in the back of her mind the countdown of shots until she had to call.
"OUT! RELOADING!" As she dropped down amongst the rubble, wreckage, the wounded and the younger soldiers maniacally handing out cleaned and reloaded rifles for spent; snatching up spent Blast lances to affix new heads and pass them up to the defenders.
Grant stood high on the barricade and yelled orders, all the while shooting into the armored Bane Thralls that were trying to fight their way into the bulwark. He yelled in frustration as a few un-dead slipped past and headed further into the town. He vented his frustration about not being able to stop them on the ones clustered about him here. Under the shifting, flickering light from the signal flares drifting over head and the light cast by the street lamps in the creatures' strange pall all adding to the mix to make for a surreal eldritch atmosphere.
Everything turned further into nightmare as a group of gaunt, gothic clad armored knights materialised seemingly from thin air, one also appearing in the very heart of the bulwarks interior space. The bale green fire in the sockets of its eyes bright as it shifted the grip upon its weapon and braced to drive said steel into Standborough’s back.
*......................................................................*
Muntz picked himself up and shook his head to try and clear the spots from his eyes and the ringing in his ears. Most of the troopers who'd also been dazed by the blast had fallen back and relieved by soldiers from the flanking spot facing down 'Potters way'. The three remaining Bone-jacks continued to snap and lunge at the 'pike' line. Scars and dents attested to the damage that the near point blank rifle fire was managing to inflict.
"You all right, Sarg?" A concerned trooper asked. Muntz nodded and waived him back to helping at the barricade with every one else, while he continued to blink and shake his head. As he tried to find his voice and organize a tighter line, he noticed two of his troopers squatting down in the far corner of the space and fiddling with some of the blast lances.
"Aven't got time t' muck about lads!" He shouted hoarsely.
"No, Sarg. Just that Zemp here's got an idea from seein' yer thing with the 'Ghoul Goose'." One of them piped up. Muntz looked closer and saw they'd rammed a loaded lance’s haft into the spent socket of a second shaft and were now hurriedly wiring a 'cross guard'/brace at the 'grip' end for the extra leverage the wielder would need to use the oversized weapon. As its application dawned on him, Muntz grinned.
"All right, boys! Brilliant thinkin'!" He shouted happily, thumping private Zemp on the back, while grabbing up the finished makeshift 'Blast Pike'.
*................................................................*
Thank'e for the kind words M'Lady. *Bows* I shall take that as high praise indeed.
And here is where I work the Title into the story.
Also a new 'twist' a the SteelHead mercenary company is brought into play. Shows how old the tale is, they were a 'new' addition to the game way back then.
Re: Hunters, Hunted. (An Iron Kingdoms Story)
Mellani spun, reflexes crossing her blades to block the double thrust from the pale faced 'thing' that suddenly stood almost nose to nose with her. She blinked as rounds from Teshka’s pistols tore through the alabaster complexion and, with mounting horror, watching the waxy flesh flow and ooze back into place.
"Oh no you don't! Ye cheatin' B#TCH!" Teshka screamed as she walked forward while drawing fresh pistols, not bothering to holster the spent guns, simply dropped them as she drew fresh weapons. The creature blew a still disfigured kiss at Mellani as two more rounds ripped through its form, before taking two quick skips and driving its pommel into the young Satyxis' face. Teshka crumpled without a sound, the creature of shadows barely turning, never shifting its stare at Mellani.
"CLANG!"
Mellani didn't even see it move. One instant hand raised from punching Teshka, in the next moment, the twin serpent short swords poised to run her through. Ysilliths' great blade rested between them, the evil twinned weapons arrested in mid flight.
"Right, ye nether spawned, flat chested trollop." The tall Satyxis spat, "Let's see ye pick on some one yer own size." With crimson eyes narrowing it hissed angrily at Ysillith while stepping, spinning daintily away, twirling its blades seemingly in anticipation of the duel to come.
"No offence, lass. But this bint's gone and riled me somethin' shockin'." Ysillith commented offhandedly to the girl standing in the middle of the street, while not taking her eyes off the creature as it stepped away from Ysillith's blade. Then Ysillith advanced towards it and the pair slowly began to circle.
"Hey! No problem, take your time!" Mellani burbled, shock running through her mind. She could swear she could hear her knees knocking.
The creature actually giggled. The high-pitched warble trilling with strange harmonics. The pair's blades coming together in a cascading jangle of metal. Ysilliths great sabre had the reach; the daemon had its pair of blades and hence the larger number of offensive motions. Mellani stifled a manic laugh, she was thinking of the Satyxis as a person! She desperately tried to get her scattered thoughts under control as the two spun, slashed, parried, stepped apart and swirled together.
Mellani didn't register the impact. One instant the two creatures spun together in their dance of twirling metal, the next the crimson eyed figure had deftly skipped back out of reach of Ysillith, with both of its' swords fluttering, when it had some how managed to flick a dagger at her. As she staggered and slumped to the cobble stones, clutching at the small blade that had punched through her armour into her side. Mellani heard a deep throaty growl and realised it came from Ysillith.
"Ye cheatin' waste o' whore spit!" Ysillith snarled as her temper bloomed to incandescent rage. This thing had killed two of her crew, aye they'd been greedy and been stupid but they'd been hers. Next, it didn't have the decency to die when it was properly shot. Only to now turn about and go throwing daggers at rich people offering her boat loads of money! She flicked the hidden switch on her blade's hilt and felt the power thrum through the great sabre. At the noise the shadow creatures' full attention focused on her.
"Aye, that's right ye skivvin’ b#tch! You've just gone cost me money. C'mere so's I c'n carve it out'a yer pale, skinny hide." Ysillith purred stalking forwards, her sword point weaving in the things direction as if it now had a will of its own.
The duel renewed in earnest. Ysillith grinned, she had the reach, she had the strength and as she began to hedge the crimson eyed bint into a smaller and smaller space, she knew her arcanikally tricked out sabre had the speed. Ysillith noticed one of the crumpled forms move and the blink of a distraction was her undoing. One heartbeat, the deamon was hedged in on her right, in the next beat -under the flickering lights -it was suddenly on her left.
"Ah, sh.." SHTHUNK! As it drove a blade through her side. By her mothers horns, the pain! She'd had her share of nicks and cuts before, but this burned her to the core. She felt her whole being focused down to that one point. Her strength felt like it was being torn out through her guts. As she dropped to her knees, she couldn't even summon enough energy to give the bint a proper 'kiss' of her horns.
"Whut? Ye not...gonna...gloat?" She hissed through clenched teeth. Her hands hung limply at her sides as her existence narrowed down to a choice between breathing or keeping hold of her sword. D@mn if she was going to die empty handed!
*....................................................................*
Acting sergeant Kerstell yelled orders and snarled defiance as the pole arms of the attacking armored undead continued to scythe and sweep at the defenders. In the jumble at their feet the able wounded helped as best they could, re-loading and re-arming for the troopers standing over them. Jonathann tossed and turned as a personal nightmare returned to claim him in his fevered dream.
*** His mind had fallen back to the disaster of his last 'official' patrol. He staggered and stumbled as the scream and bellow of war roiled around him.
Before his world had fallen into chaos, he'd seen the smoke of the approaching Khardoran forces first, riding slightly ahead of the companies' column. At his report, the troop commander had required confirmation, wasting valuable time. Then the Khadoran snipers -Widow Makers -had started to decimate the ranks and things had really begun to fall apart. By the time the Destroyers had lumbered into shelling range, things had almost devolved into anarchy.
In this nightmare he staggered and continued to try and rally his last, hastily dug, redoubt. He could make out Acting sergeant Standborough still holding the standard high and he grinned as he straightened up and staggered towards her. Still 'punch drunk' and happy that his hastily rigged satchel of explosives had put paid to the last of the Destroyer War jacks. He barely noticed the dull throb of his arm. *Probably broken* He thought woozily as he approached the standard bearer, calling her attention.
She turned and his mind reeled in shock. Most of her face was blown away, a shredded arm waved at him, beckoning. He sagged back, glancing around at the troopers and mercenaries still fighting around him. They too had steaming wounds and gaping injuries.
Even as his mind baulked he saw a black enamelled Khardoran Berserker War-Jack come lumbering out of the howling smoke and flames of battle. Its stacks belching green flame, great glowing scythes griped in each vice like hand. A skull wreathed in bilious green flames screamed from its cowl. ***
*..................................................................*
Sergeant Muntz gripped the long haft of the makeshift pike/lance and shoved. The Bone jack that was its target jumped and snapped at the thrust but miss timed its bite, the head of the weapon exploding deep inside its necromechanical innards.
"Yeah! HA!" He cried as he pulled the spent pole arm back and grinned while his boys handed him another.
"That's it lads! Only two to go! These b@strds haven't the sense to know when they're licked!" The last two Bone-Jacks, both limping badly and heavily scarred, continued to scrabble and snap at the defenders behind their barricade.
*.........................................................*
Along the rampart tops, with less and less enemies to shoot at outside, the defenders there had turned their fire on the creatures that had breached the wall and gotten in.
Boggs lead his group back to the blasted devastation that had been Hogart's redoubt and there, fighting furiously, had driven back the necros and closed the breach. When he had brief moments, Boggs wondered briefly as to what had happened to Hogart, Denby and the others that had been stationed there.
*.........................................................*
The four deep lines of the Steel head Mercenaries marched in time along the towns' streets. As they came across the random prowling Bone jacks, the enclosed space mean the mercenaries could ignore their flanks concentrate on reducing the machines before them into scrap. Godwin smiled,
*Easiest contract I've had to date.* When the troops came to a predetermined intersection the formation 'un-zipped', with two ranks driving one way and the remaining two another. Godwin had been impressed at how the towns military commander had set out the pattern of internal defence points to allow his group to march through the streets as if playing a huge game of 'join the dots'. The sweeps brought them across the internal redoubts that were placed to allow them to 'section' the town. The 'auxiliaries' tagging along behind them having maps, booklets and signal flares of their own to help keep his troop navigating correctly and 'on track'. His troop split again at an intersection and on cue the two walls of the phalanx proceeded down their respective streets. His lines approached a spot that Godwin remembered from the city maps had a nice plaza that formed from the space where a decent sized set of cross roads met. As he came to the end of his road into the plaza he stopped.
"What the....?" A gabble of Bone jacks crowded, snapping, around a squat, block-y War jack, the lines of which he didn't recognise. He signalled 'halt' and waited for the second troop to reach their entrance to the plaza. He called to his group’s signaller and pointed out the tableau
"Where'd that hunk'a'junk come from and what's it gonna do to our patterns?" He yelled over the noise in the square. The youngster stared at the scene, blinking owlishly and shrugged.
"Well find the right signal and get us some orders!" Godwin commanded. Still keeping an eye on things. Soon the Bone jacks would notice his guys and he'd rather know if every thing in front of him was a valid, paying, target. Or if the Junk jack was on his side, like it seemed.
*..................................................................*
And so the background of how Jonathann lost his first arm is shown in nightmare.
As well as other shifts in the play of battle.
*Bows*
"Oh no you don't! Ye cheatin' B#TCH!" Teshka screamed as she walked forward while drawing fresh pistols, not bothering to holster the spent guns, simply dropped them as she drew fresh weapons. The creature blew a still disfigured kiss at Mellani as two more rounds ripped through its form, before taking two quick skips and driving its pommel into the young Satyxis' face. Teshka crumpled without a sound, the creature of shadows barely turning, never shifting its stare at Mellani.
"CLANG!"
Mellani didn't even see it move. One instant hand raised from punching Teshka, in the next moment, the twin serpent short swords poised to run her through. Ysilliths' great blade rested between them, the evil twinned weapons arrested in mid flight.
"Right, ye nether spawned, flat chested trollop." The tall Satyxis spat, "Let's see ye pick on some one yer own size." With crimson eyes narrowing it hissed angrily at Ysillith while stepping, spinning daintily away, twirling its blades seemingly in anticipation of the duel to come.
"No offence, lass. But this bint's gone and riled me somethin' shockin'." Ysillith commented offhandedly to the girl standing in the middle of the street, while not taking her eyes off the creature as it stepped away from Ysillith's blade. Then Ysillith advanced towards it and the pair slowly began to circle.
"Hey! No problem, take your time!" Mellani burbled, shock running through her mind. She could swear she could hear her knees knocking.
The creature actually giggled. The high-pitched warble trilling with strange harmonics. The pair's blades coming together in a cascading jangle of metal. Ysilliths great sabre had the reach; the daemon had its pair of blades and hence the larger number of offensive motions. Mellani stifled a manic laugh, she was thinking of the Satyxis as a person! She desperately tried to get her scattered thoughts under control as the two spun, slashed, parried, stepped apart and swirled together.
Mellani didn't register the impact. One instant the two creatures spun together in their dance of twirling metal, the next the crimson eyed figure had deftly skipped back out of reach of Ysillith, with both of its' swords fluttering, when it had some how managed to flick a dagger at her. As she staggered and slumped to the cobble stones, clutching at the small blade that had punched through her armour into her side. Mellani heard a deep throaty growl and realised it came from Ysillith.
"Ye cheatin' waste o' whore spit!" Ysillith snarled as her temper bloomed to incandescent rage. This thing had killed two of her crew, aye they'd been greedy and been stupid but they'd been hers. Next, it didn't have the decency to die when it was properly shot. Only to now turn about and go throwing daggers at rich people offering her boat loads of money! She flicked the hidden switch on her blade's hilt and felt the power thrum through the great sabre. At the noise the shadow creatures' full attention focused on her.
"Aye, that's right ye skivvin’ b#tch! You've just gone cost me money. C'mere so's I c'n carve it out'a yer pale, skinny hide." Ysillith purred stalking forwards, her sword point weaving in the things direction as if it now had a will of its own.
The duel renewed in earnest. Ysillith grinned, she had the reach, she had the strength and as she began to hedge the crimson eyed bint into a smaller and smaller space, she knew her arcanikally tricked out sabre had the speed. Ysillith noticed one of the crumpled forms move and the blink of a distraction was her undoing. One heartbeat, the deamon was hedged in on her right, in the next beat -under the flickering lights -it was suddenly on her left.
"Ah, sh.." SHTHUNK! As it drove a blade through her side. By her mothers horns, the pain! She'd had her share of nicks and cuts before, but this burned her to the core. She felt her whole being focused down to that one point. Her strength felt like it was being torn out through her guts. As she dropped to her knees, she couldn't even summon enough energy to give the bint a proper 'kiss' of her horns.
"Whut? Ye not...gonna...gloat?" She hissed through clenched teeth. Her hands hung limply at her sides as her existence narrowed down to a choice between breathing or keeping hold of her sword. D@mn if she was going to die empty handed!
*....................................................................*
Acting sergeant Kerstell yelled orders and snarled defiance as the pole arms of the attacking armored undead continued to scythe and sweep at the defenders. In the jumble at their feet the able wounded helped as best they could, re-loading and re-arming for the troopers standing over them. Jonathann tossed and turned as a personal nightmare returned to claim him in his fevered dream.
*** His mind had fallen back to the disaster of his last 'official' patrol. He staggered and stumbled as the scream and bellow of war roiled around him.
Before his world had fallen into chaos, he'd seen the smoke of the approaching Khardoran forces first, riding slightly ahead of the companies' column. At his report, the troop commander had required confirmation, wasting valuable time. Then the Khadoran snipers -Widow Makers -had started to decimate the ranks and things had really begun to fall apart. By the time the Destroyers had lumbered into shelling range, things had almost devolved into anarchy.
In this nightmare he staggered and continued to try and rally his last, hastily dug, redoubt. He could make out Acting sergeant Standborough still holding the standard high and he grinned as he straightened up and staggered towards her. Still 'punch drunk' and happy that his hastily rigged satchel of explosives had put paid to the last of the Destroyer War jacks. He barely noticed the dull throb of his arm. *Probably broken* He thought woozily as he approached the standard bearer, calling her attention.
She turned and his mind reeled in shock. Most of her face was blown away, a shredded arm waved at him, beckoning. He sagged back, glancing around at the troopers and mercenaries still fighting around him. They too had steaming wounds and gaping injuries.
Even as his mind baulked he saw a black enamelled Khardoran Berserker War-Jack come lumbering out of the howling smoke and flames of battle. Its stacks belching green flame, great glowing scythes griped in each vice like hand. A skull wreathed in bilious green flames screamed from its cowl. ***
*..................................................................*
Sergeant Muntz gripped the long haft of the makeshift pike/lance and shoved. The Bone jack that was its target jumped and snapped at the thrust but miss timed its bite, the head of the weapon exploding deep inside its necromechanical innards.
"Yeah! HA!" He cried as he pulled the spent pole arm back and grinned while his boys handed him another.
"That's it lads! Only two to go! These b@strds haven't the sense to know when they're licked!" The last two Bone-Jacks, both limping badly and heavily scarred, continued to scrabble and snap at the defenders behind their barricade.
*.........................................................*
Along the rampart tops, with less and less enemies to shoot at outside, the defenders there had turned their fire on the creatures that had breached the wall and gotten in.
Boggs lead his group back to the blasted devastation that had been Hogart's redoubt and there, fighting furiously, had driven back the necros and closed the breach. When he had brief moments, Boggs wondered briefly as to what had happened to Hogart, Denby and the others that had been stationed there.
*.........................................................*
The four deep lines of the Steel head Mercenaries marched in time along the towns' streets. As they came across the random prowling Bone jacks, the enclosed space mean the mercenaries could ignore their flanks concentrate on reducing the machines before them into scrap. Godwin smiled,
*Easiest contract I've had to date.* When the troops came to a predetermined intersection the formation 'un-zipped', with two ranks driving one way and the remaining two another. Godwin had been impressed at how the towns military commander had set out the pattern of internal defence points to allow his group to march through the streets as if playing a huge game of 'join the dots'. The sweeps brought them across the internal redoubts that were placed to allow them to 'section' the town. The 'auxiliaries' tagging along behind them having maps, booklets and signal flares of their own to help keep his troop navigating correctly and 'on track'. His troop split again at an intersection and on cue the two walls of the phalanx proceeded down their respective streets. His lines approached a spot that Godwin remembered from the city maps had a nice plaza that formed from the space where a decent sized set of cross roads met. As he came to the end of his road into the plaza he stopped.
"What the....?" A gabble of Bone jacks crowded, snapping, around a squat, block-y War jack, the lines of which he didn't recognise. He signalled 'halt' and waited for the second troop to reach their entrance to the plaza. He called to his group’s signaller and pointed out the tableau
"Where'd that hunk'a'junk come from and what's it gonna do to our patterns?" He yelled over the noise in the square. The youngster stared at the scene, blinking owlishly and shrugged.
"Well find the right signal and get us some orders!" Godwin commanded. Still keeping an eye on things. Soon the Bone jacks would notice his guys and he'd rather know if every thing in front of him was a valid, paying, target. Or if the Junk jack was on his side, like it seemed.
*..................................................................*
And so the background of how Jonathann lost his first arm is shown in nightmare.
As well as other shifts in the play of battle.
*Bows*
Re: Hunters, Hunted. (An Iron Kingdoms Story)
*..........................................................................*
Gimbert swore. He could see the bloody Mercs through the relays to Chuffy and the lazy b@stards were just standing there, fiddling with their gussets! He jabbed and feinted, trying to keep the two Bone-jacks off balance and at bay. The problem was he couldn't concentrate on his two annoyances and help steer Chuffy against the bunch that scratched at its armor plates at the same time.
"Right…" He growled more to himself than his audience quickly stepping back against the Warjacks boiler -Ignoring the smell of scorching leather as his heavy, armored great coat took the brunt of the heat of the machine’s hearth fires -and reached into an inside coat pocket to pull out a large metal cylinder. With a deft flick and feint of the wrist the object disappeared into the maw of the 'Jack on his left, even as it tried to take the offending hand off at the wrist as it waived in front of its snout.
For a few seconds the enemy machine it seemed to 'chew' on the device it had suddenly found itself swallowing, then there came a pulse of energy from deep within it and the construct jitter'd and staggered. As sparks and jolts leapt from its hull. Before collapsing into a pile of inert metal, with oil and smoke leaking from the gaps in its plates to further stain the cobble stones and night sky. Gimbert turned to the last Bone-jack and grinned as he brandished his blast lance.
"Right then, boy-o. It's just you an' me now." He purred, even as the machine hissed back as if in response.
*..........................................................................*
Grant Standborough yelled encouragement to his troops, as the armored ghouls clamoured at the bulwark. He caught a ‘look’ from the trooper to his left from the corner of his eye, beginning to turn and see the eldritch green glow that was behind him! From the darker shadows at the base of their makeshift wall Sunset simply stood, driving both barrels of her guns up under the grinning jaw of the Bane Knight even as the nightmare shifted to drive its' pike into Standboroughs back. If the undead knew surprise the two barrels inside its jaw prevented any reaction as scant seconds later its head was blown to bone powder.
“Here! Can’t have these buggers toppin’ ye!” Sunset yelled over the clamour around them, “I’ve a promise t’ be keepin'!” And she turned and began to repeat her ‘Jack-in-the-box’ trick on the other Knights who were randomly materialising within the meagre defences
Grant just nodded, though an evil grin crept onto his features. Thus, as the troopers held back the greater bulk back with bayonets and blast lances, Grant would wait and then lung to drive his bayonet forcefully into one of the undead that jostled into his reach. Under the assault it would seemingly disappear into its own gloom shrouded shadow and then re-appear inside the space deep amongst the defenders’ ranks. Sunset would instantly react, spinning and then shoving both barrels of her hand guns down its throat and blowing the damned critters head off.
Standborough's grin grew wider. He was pretty sure the Cryrixian's would run out of these undead monsters before the captains’ new pet merc ran out of rounds. He shrugged, if not, they'd just have to finish the b@stards the old fashioned way.
*...................................................................*
As the pale faced, violet eyed Vixen casually twirled its free blade, it seemed to Ysillith that the flat chest'd bint had decided to gloat after all, to which Ysillith simply focused on trying to lift an arm. If just to gouge at the cocksure b#tch in some sort of defiance before her end. Suddenly there came a wet 'thumping' sound and a blade sprang from the creatures' chest. Ysillith blinked at the blood smeared point suddenly waving scant inches from her nose. The Infernal gaped, its eyes goggling, even as it stared down at the weapon erupting from its torso.
"That is for me!" Ysillith heard Mellani snarl from behind the thing. Then, with messy wet tearing sounds, the blade slowly began to turn.
"And this is for my Grand father!" And Mellanis' voice was full of her hate, pain, rage and loss. The Infernal dropped its swords and fumbled feebly at the wide piece of metal that was slowly tearing around deep within its chest.
With the baleful presence broken, Ysillith was able to gather her wits, the wound in her side becoming 'just' something causing a distracting pain. She watched, gasping slightly -even as she quickly began gathering her strength -while the ruined form of the shadow creature before her began to evaporate and unravel. Its face contorted into a silent scream as it swirled away into dissolution. Ysillith thought she caught a glimpse of glowing runes under the steaming ichors covering the blade -she blinked and the image was gone. Within moments the pale faced creature itself had faded away to nothing. Ysillith groaned as she began to withdraw the sword from her side.
"Wish the poxy b#tch had taken her bloody toys with her." She hissed through clenched teeth. Mellani just nodded, laughed at some notion and then fainted again -collapsing to the cobble stones -while at the same time Teshka groaned and sat up woozily,
"Owie!" The young Satyxis wailed as she rubbed the swelling bruise upon her forehead, the skin starting to discolour between her horns.
"Awe, hush, young'n!" Ysillith called "T'is just a bump! Get yerself over here an' help me patch up!" While she managed to make her voice sound firm, she was wondering how she was gong to stand up herself –let alone not collapse like the human girl. As if on cue the first of her raid started to turn up, huffing under their respective loads.
"C'mon Boss! Velshlin reckons she caught sight of bloody Steel Heads! The bastards'll chop us t' pieces if'n we hang about to long!" Hellith called. Ysillith nodded and waived her on to the ferry. Teshka pulled a couple of bandages out of a coat pocket, handing one to Ysillith, while packing the other into the wounded Satyxian leaders back. Yissilth packed the wound in her front and started tearing her sleeve off and into strips. Teshka took over and Ysillith nodded in thanks. She heard the distinct 'K-chk' sound of a pistol striker being pulled back and glanced up in time to growl
"NO!" The tone of her voice freezing Gaelsith as she aimed a pistol at the hopefully very unconscious Mellanis' head. The other Satyxis blinked stupidly at Ysillith.
"Whut?" Gaelsith asked, nonplussed.
"She's worth more crowns than you whole damn lot o' bints sold off to the stitch works put together!" Ysillith snarled, drawing upon the anger she suddenly felt to help her stand. Teshka deftly gathered all the scattered, fallen weapons as more of the crew jogged past. Dahlia trotted up and put down one of the crates she was carrying. Then, with one hand, deftly pulled back the makeshift dressing to inspect Ysilliths' wound. She 'tsked', more to herself than any of the others.
"Well the good news is we don't 'ave t' put you out of our misery. Th' bad news is ye'll not be carryin' nor fightin' worth a damn." Dahlia groused as she fumbled at her belt to withdraw a smaller bag from a belt pouch. Ysillith just huffed,
"Don't waste yer poultices on me. Fix this'n up now." She motioned to a very pale faced Mellani. Shaelith struggled up and catching the tale of the conversation, called,
"What? Got us a good ransom then, hey?" Dahlia shook her head at Shaelith to warn the other satyxis way from their captain's mood, who just shrugged under said signal and staggered on. The rest of the booty laden Satyxis moved past.
"Right Dahlia, bring her, gentle like." Ysillith ordered, her voice carrying menace to emphasise her orders, while Teshka deftly got under one of her arms and the pair headed down towards the docks and their awaiting transport with the rest of the gathering raid. Dahlia sighed resignedly as she deftly dressed the young human woman's wound.
"Pathetic scratch." She groused quietly, "Don't know why th' Boss be wastin' th' effort." And then put the remaining items back in her pouch. Though she did keep an eye on the girl as the colour slowly returned to her face. Glancing around she quickly roped in another couple of the straggling gels to redistribute their load's bulk to accommodate this new bit of 'swag' that they found themselves now carrying.
*..................................................................*
I apologise for the drop off in posting. Real Life has been kind and graced me with a mountain of work. The good of which, more work means more pay. Of course, the down side means more work, less writing.
I hope the story is bringing cheers, mirth and other emotions to the reader. *Bows*
EDIT:
Um, yes...reappear, gotcha. >_>
Again, thanks for the reviews. *Bows*
Gimbert swore. He could see the bloody Mercs through the relays to Chuffy and the lazy b@stards were just standing there, fiddling with their gussets! He jabbed and feinted, trying to keep the two Bone-jacks off balance and at bay. The problem was he couldn't concentrate on his two annoyances and help steer Chuffy against the bunch that scratched at its armor plates at the same time.
"Right…" He growled more to himself than his audience quickly stepping back against the Warjacks boiler -Ignoring the smell of scorching leather as his heavy, armored great coat took the brunt of the heat of the machine’s hearth fires -and reached into an inside coat pocket to pull out a large metal cylinder. With a deft flick and feint of the wrist the object disappeared into the maw of the 'Jack on his left, even as it tried to take the offending hand off at the wrist as it waived in front of its snout.
For a few seconds the enemy machine it seemed to 'chew' on the device it had suddenly found itself swallowing, then there came a pulse of energy from deep within it and the construct jitter'd and staggered. As sparks and jolts leapt from its hull. Before collapsing into a pile of inert metal, with oil and smoke leaking from the gaps in its plates to further stain the cobble stones and night sky. Gimbert turned to the last Bone-jack and grinned as he brandished his blast lance.
"Right then, boy-o. It's just you an' me now." He purred, even as the machine hissed back as if in response.
*..........................................................................*
Grant Standborough yelled encouragement to his troops, as the armored ghouls clamoured at the bulwark. He caught a ‘look’ from the trooper to his left from the corner of his eye, beginning to turn and see the eldritch green glow that was behind him! From the darker shadows at the base of their makeshift wall Sunset simply stood, driving both barrels of her guns up under the grinning jaw of the Bane Knight even as the nightmare shifted to drive its' pike into Standboroughs back. If the undead knew surprise the two barrels inside its jaw prevented any reaction as scant seconds later its head was blown to bone powder.
“Here! Can’t have these buggers toppin’ ye!” Sunset yelled over the clamour around them, “I’ve a promise t’ be keepin'!” And she turned and began to repeat her ‘Jack-in-the-box’ trick on the other Knights who were randomly materialising within the meagre defences
Grant just nodded, though an evil grin crept onto his features. Thus, as the troopers held back the greater bulk back with bayonets and blast lances, Grant would wait and then lung to drive his bayonet forcefully into one of the undead that jostled into his reach. Under the assault it would seemingly disappear into its own gloom shrouded shadow and then re-appear inside the space deep amongst the defenders’ ranks. Sunset would instantly react, spinning and then shoving both barrels of her hand guns down its throat and blowing the damned critters head off.
Standborough's grin grew wider. He was pretty sure the Cryrixian's would run out of these undead monsters before the captains’ new pet merc ran out of rounds. He shrugged, if not, they'd just have to finish the b@stards the old fashioned way.
*...................................................................*
As the pale faced, violet eyed Vixen casually twirled its free blade, it seemed to Ysillith that the flat chest'd bint had decided to gloat after all, to which Ysillith simply focused on trying to lift an arm. If just to gouge at the cocksure b#tch in some sort of defiance before her end. Suddenly there came a wet 'thumping' sound and a blade sprang from the creatures' chest. Ysillith blinked at the blood smeared point suddenly waving scant inches from her nose. The Infernal gaped, its eyes goggling, even as it stared down at the weapon erupting from its torso.
"That is for me!" Ysillith heard Mellani snarl from behind the thing. Then, with messy wet tearing sounds, the blade slowly began to turn.
"And this is for my Grand father!" And Mellanis' voice was full of her hate, pain, rage and loss. The Infernal dropped its swords and fumbled feebly at the wide piece of metal that was slowly tearing around deep within its chest.
With the baleful presence broken, Ysillith was able to gather her wits, the wound in her side becoming 'just' something causing a distracting pain. She watched, gasping slightly -even as she quickly began gathering her strength -while the ruined form of the shadow creature before her began to evaporate and unravel. Its face contorted into a silent scream as it swirled away into dissolution. Ysillith thought she caught a glimpse of glowing runes under the steaming ichors covering the blade -she blinked and the image was gone. Within moments the pale faced creature itself had faded away to nothing. Ysillith groaned as she began to withdraw the sword from her side.
"Wish the poxy b#tch had taken her bloody toys with her." She hissed through clenched teeth. Mellani just nodded, laughed at some notion and then fainted again -collapsing to the cobble stones -while at the same time Teshka groaned and sat up woozily,
"Owie!" The young Satyxis wailed as she rubbed the swelling bruise upon her forehead, the skin starting to discolour between her horns.
"Awe, hush, young'n!" Ysillith called "T'is just a bump! Get yerself over here an' help me patch up!" While she managed to make her voice sound firm, she was wondering how she was gong to stand up herself –let alone not collapse like the human girl. As if on cue the first of her raid started to turn up, huffing under their respective loads.
"C'mon Boss! Velshlin reckons she caught sight of bloody Steel Heads! The bastards'll chop us t' pieces if'n we hang about to long!" Hellith called. Ysillith nodded and waived her on to the ferry. Teshka pulled a couple of bandages out of a coat pocket, handing one to Ysillith, while packing the other into the wounded Satyxian leaders back. Yissilth packed the wound in her front and started tearing her sleeve off and into strips. Teshka took over and Ysillith nodded in thanks. She heard the distinct 'K-chk' sound of a pistol striker being pulled back and glanced up in time to growl
"NO!" The tone of her voice freezing Gaelsith as she aimed a pistol at the hopefully very unconscious Mellanis' head. The other Satyxis blinked stupidly at Ysillith.
"Whut?" Gaelsith asked, nonplussed.
"She's worth more crowns than you whole damn lot o' bints sold off to the stitch works put together!" Ysillith snarled, drawing upon the anger she suddenly felt to help her stand. Teshka deftly gathered all the scattered, fallen weapons as more of the crew jogged past. Dahlia trotted up and put down one of the crates she was carrying. Then, with one hand, deftly pulled back the makeshift dressing to inspect Ysilliths' wound. She 'tsked', more to herself than any of the others.
"Well the good news is we don't 'ave t' put you out of our misery. Th' bad news is ye'll not be carryin' nor fightin' worth a damn." Dahlia groused as she fumbled at her belt to withdraw a smaller bag from a belt pouch. Ysillith just huffed,
"Don't waste yer poultices on me. Fix this'n up now." She motioned to a very pale faced Mellani. Shaelith struggled up and catching the tale of the conversation, called,
"What? Got us a good ransom then, hey?" Dahlia shook her head at Shaelith to warn the other satyxis way from their captain's mood, who just shrugged under said signal and staggered on. The rest of the booty laden Satyxis moved past.
"Right Dahlia, bring her, gentle like." Ysillith ordered, her voice carrying menace to emphasise her orders, while Teshka deftly got under one of her arms and the pair headed down towards the docks and their awaiting transport with the rest of the gathering raid. Dahlia sighed resignedly as she deftly dressed the young human woman's wound.
"Pathetic scratch." She groused quietly, "Don't know why th' Boss be wastin' th' effort." And then put the remaining items back in her pouch. Though she did keep an eye on the girl as the colour slowly returned to her face. Glancing around she quickly roped in another couple of the straggling gels to redistribute their load's bulk to accommodate this new bit of 'swag' that they found themselves now carrying.
*..................................................................*
I apologise for the drop off in posting. Real Life has been kind and graced me with a mountain of work. The good of which, more work means more pay.
Of course, the down side means more work, less writing. I hope the story is bringing cheers, mirth and other emotions to the reader. *Bows*
EDIT:
Um, yes...reappear, gotcha. >_>Again, thanks for the reviews. *Bows*
Last edited by Peebo-T on 2011-04-18 04:37am, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Hunters, Hunted. (An Iron Kingdoms Story)
I'm glad to see it back You left it on a cliffhanger
BTW:
You left it on a cliffhangerBTW:
Do you mean reappear?Under the assault it would seemingly disappear into its own gloom shrouded shadow and then reaper inside the space deep amongst the defenders’ ranks.
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
-
Dass.Kapital
- Padawan Learner
- Posts: 225
- Joined: 2011-06-09 03:35am
Re: Hunters, Hunted. (An Iron Kingdoms Story)
So....long story short, Peebo-T's home computer died.
The vast majority of the posters here are probably already thinking the magic words 'Back up'.
As readers can see by the new handle...this was not done by Peebo-T
*sigh*
So, for a while the story will be a little...um....delayed, as said poster gets a whole shed load of other things regarding e-mails, accounts etc sorted out.
*bows*
I apologize for this turn of events and hope others learn from the painful lesson which I have experienced.
Much cheers to you and yours.
The vast majority of the posters here are probably already thinking the magic words 'Back up'.
As readers can see by the new handle...this was not done by Peebo-T
*sigh*
So, for a while the story will be a little...um....delayed, as said poster gets a whole shed load of other things regarding e-mails, accounts etc sorted out.
*bows*
I apologize for this turn of events and hope others learn from the painful lesson which I have experienced.
Much cheers to you and yours.
"And low, I have cometh, the destroyer of threads."Highlord Laan wrote:Agatha Heterodyne built a squadron of flying pigs and an overgunned robot reindeer in a cave! With a box of scraps!