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Renegade Iris Belle
d97a61
Matvey was able to 'surprise' find you because he, while moderately hung over, 'stumbled' on you. He did not follow your voice, or actively seek you out. And yes, this does suggest that Drunks, like Children, are at risk of randomly shattering your stealth through mindless impulsiveness.
>>361125a492a8
>>361128361128
>>361129b83c65
>>361132, >>361352Guile[Pic]
>>361133Falcon
>>361141c6ce12
>>361163Arkeus
>>361209Alratan
Yeah, he actually has-at least in terms of fresh blood. You've heard of liter water bottles before, I hope-as it happens, the man with supernatural hunger and eating capacities is also a thirsty drinker. If you're talking about past week's supply-there is nothing intrinsic to non-regenerating magic meat or body tissues that prevents rot-and for a very large portion of this trip you were without power (Valkonens have no electricity or electronics at their estate, do recall). Though if you want to drink spoiled basilisk blood, that's fine-I just wanted to be sure that's actually what you were asking, because that's all you really have, having drank / used the most recent deliveries. This also means that unless told otherwise, Armas will use the freshest ingredients he has in the hopes of optimal effects.
>>361370BUTTZ
>>361416Mystic
>>36142953f3f7
Happy I programed it on the walk up, I speeddial Hafaz-
>[Automated Voice]"We are sorry, this call cannot be completed as-"
*click*
Well then.
I turn to the ex-soldiers behind me and speak in a clipped, fast-paced voice, happily using Russian in soft tones just in case we end up with wayward listeners.
" Alright. My friends were suckered into a trap, I think. My main goal here is to extract the friendlies. The secondary goal is to take down the crazy mercenary that trapped them. If we don't get a shot at him, I'm not going to cry, but I really want my friends alive and I want us all to bug out before the cops get here and arrest everyone. Try to limit the amount of physical evidence you leave.
Well, I'd say the police will be here relatively soon-we'll operate on a fifteen minute window with a five minute margin for error."
>[Vlad][In Russian]"Ten minutes? That's not much time to do a proper operation in these circumestances."
"No it's not but there's not really another option. I got people to rescue in a building Blackbeard's inside, and-"
>[Grisha][In Russian]"Could you say that name again?"
"Blackbeard-do you know of-"
>[Gloom]"We know of him-and will most certainly not enter that building while he's an unknown."
Tick tock, tick tock-
"Fine-I still need these crowds dispersed to avoid witnesses, and I need guns on exits who know how to confirm a target before shooting-that managable? I'm going to trust you guys know how to keep the civvies out of the fight while Hillevi and I get to do the moving and shaking in this; we're the ones who can survive being shot with that monster gun Blackbeard has. "
Matvey glances at the nearby rooftops.
>[Matvey]"It can be done."
"Excellent. Just don't claim to be Turkish police forces-no way they'd buy you as being Turkish. Oh, and this company sounds like it has ludicrously lucrative files inside with all sorts of valuble secrets-if anyone's willing to brave that so long as it's not on me and I get to look at it you can do what you want with it."
>[Matvey][In Russian]"I was not planning to-and I'll radio the men on this-I think a few might risk it, assuming that they see no signs of hostiles on the way."
"If they do, they can pull out-not like I need the files."
>[Matvey][In Russian]"Target of opportunity? Understood."
As Matvey begins issuing muted commands to his fellows, some moving to discreetly flit down alleyways for rooftop access, some infiltrating the crowd and moving with a decidedly practiced air as they round up gawkers, I address Hillevi in Finnish even as I start ambling across the thankfully empty street.
"Okay, quick briefing-bad guy inside by the name of Blackbeard, he's got a gun that probably outperforms that Einher's bow that you saw before leaving Finland. Fond of explosions and traps-and likes to leave traps that are hard to detect. Oh yeah, he also carries several magic swords, and has an unusually large number of charms."
Hillevi mulls this over for all of three seconds.
>[Hillevi][In Finnish]"Other known threats?"
"Well, Blackbeard's known to work alone-so if there are, then they're probably third party."
Again she digests this-as the radio in my pocket squeaks even as I walk closer to the building, looking like I'm doing what I'm supposed to, the crowds continually being backed away with urgings of public safety concerns (which are rather easily believed with a groaning, slightly leaning building just right there).
Things obviously can't go perfectly-there's always a snag, a hiccup. For now, that hiccup is an irate looking older women, refusing to listen to the Russians and, after pretending to lose interest, darting past them with her eyes and attention locked on me. Her soul is just screaming 'I obsessively watch my neighbors to both make sure they are following the law and for gossip'-
So before she can even speak I go for an unorthodox approach.
"I hope you have good life insurance," I say as I keep walking, "Because my company will NOT compensate your family if you get crushed under falling concrete, rebar, or are flayed alive by shattered glass. Similarly, I hope you do not think I am a Government employee bound to answer your questions: Follow me inside if you wish, I can't legally stop you-but don't expect me to answer your questions or assist you if trouble arises-I am here only to perform my job, and will not stop for you."
Maybe I spent too long in Finland. Maybe it's my resistance to cold-maybe it's my nature as an unapologetic asshole. But I could swear my words were so cold, so uncarimng she is phyiscally struck by them, rocking to a dead stop as her mouth gapes like a fish. I feel two Russians finish catching up with her and drag her away-this time, she doesn't seem to be playing along when she complies: She looks only too happy to be away from this debacle.
...Yeah, that would NOT have worked if I'd worn combat gear-and since I felt that nosy bitch's attention switch from Hillevi to me, she would have bothered us anyway.
>[Iron Trick]"A good suit and smooth words can open or close far more doors than any physical weapon can."
True enough.
I don't slow down as we step into the building's foyer, Shadowbro immediately flitting about the room, confirming the corpses are indeed the dead and not some trap, and that no wayward recognizable explosives are to be found. I listen with half an ear as Matvey reports Gloom, Grisha and Iosef volunteered to seek out the records room, and will be entering in thirty seconds. I mull this over as I climb the stairs, following the trail of destruction only after I verify nothing hides in any of the nooks I myself identified as likely foxholes. To the mind of shadow and sneak alike, the room... is clear.
>>361345
As shadowbro precedes Hillevi and I up the stares, both halves of my soul grateful for the shoddy lighting, I take a moment to indulge in another plan.
I try texting Hafaz. Never know, might work. Let's see....
"Here. Where are you? Enemies?"
Shadowbro returns with an all-clear, and I begin ascending to the second floor without a response. Well, so much for-
>[Hafaz][Text]"6 flr, unknwn enmy #s, >5. BB hr stl"
...Interesting, he can still text? Wasn't expecting that.
So I decide to see if I'm on a roll here, and dial a new number as I finish climbing the stairs to the next level, my shadow again spreading out to inspect the room.
>[SM]"You have need of me?"
I rattle off the address without preamble and get to my querry, wondering if I'm only one minute in now, or two-my sense of time always skews when I'm paying a great deal of attention to external stimulus, oddly enough.
"So, can you provide schematics, estimation on threats, real time-"
>[SM]"Sadly, there is nothing to bargain with here-I know the address you speak of, and it is one of a small number in Turkey that... does not exist on paper. Given our deal with the Turkish Government... there is nothing we could offer that would not besmirch our name with the taint of sub-par goods."
"I'd still be willing to buy-"
>[SM]"But we are not willing to sell. Nevertheless-if by some stroke of luck that building would... cease to be.... you might find yourself cleared of owed favors. Think on it."
[small]*click*[/code]
Hm.
After shadowbro and I both finish checking the floor with Hillevi guarding the stairway, I briefly radio Matvey, and explain the friendlies are on the sixth floor. He mentions that he only has two guns that can see up there, and neither sees anything, before stating he'll move another pair of guns, so that one's watching each face of the building to be thorough. He'll radio back if he gets confirmation of people there.
I re-enter the stairs as I consider what the second floor looked like. Bodies were everywhere, only two of them not in archetypal white-collar workwear, and the two exceptions wore the same guard uniforms as the few I saw on the entry level. What's strange about them is that I don't see any bullet holes in the people-a few massive holes that have to be from Blackbeard's gun in one of the support pillars certainly-but no one died by gunfire. Instead, Shadowbro noted that every last person had a fresh, oozing sore over their heart-every last one of them, without exception-while the first floor was trashed with the use of more mundane means, including a shell a third the size of a soda bottle that suggests it Blackbeard's work. ...Strange, but still not enough to form any meaningful conclusions. SO after checking the stairs up to the third floor and finding them clear, shadowbro beckons to me, as Hillevi and I follow after the intangible figure.
>"Something is... off about this place, but I still can't say what... incidentally, three minutes elapsed."
Thirty percent of my time gone, and I'm only now starting to search the third floor... where the hell are those hostiles Hafaz mentioned? And I haven't heard a single bit of gunfire-so where's Blackbeard? Better, where are his explosives? I know he's fond of traps that go boom-so why is this not adding up?
>[Iron Trick]"Focus."
Yeah-yeah.
>>361350
...Wait a minute.
Sake? Saaaaake? SAKE?
>"What are you doing, why are you shouting in your head?"
Well I'm telapathic right?
>"I wish I was a theist just so I could utter a proper profanity to note how horrendously wrong that idea is."
So how do I talk to y-
>"I'm a part of your soul-I don't count, one, and two I'm quite literally attached to you."
Okay so what about A-
>"You shared blood with him, and AMEN maintains the connection's cohesion, not you."
Yeah so then if I shared blood with someone else-
>"It works because Amen is a blood master-are you? Oh you in fact aren't? Please focus on the matter at hand rather than pretending you have special abilities with no substantiation, thank you."
>"[Iron Trick]"In case you are wondering, you can talk to Silja and I because you maintain physical proximity with us, and we are, in our respective ways, made to commune with wielders-put either of us down, and no communication would be possible."
....Damn, so much for that idea.
I'm about to call Lo Fang, looking for him to kill police interest in this-and realize the time to do that, if ever, would have been before even leaving the house-I just can't see him being influential enough to turn back squad cars en route.
Not to mention the fact that THIS floor....
Is not just filled with corpses.
In the middle-almost the exact middle-of the wide office space, stand two black figures. Not a drop of light defines texture or form to these two-they look like shadow liquefied and made to mock gravity-
And begin to flow across the room at us at a languid pace.
Just as I'm putting some thought into my approach after noting how slowly they're advancing-
With a grunt, two spheres of ice the size of beach balls fly through the air, each one impacting an oily mass-and immediately freezing it solid. Both figures begin to teeter-and fall, shattering. Even as my shadow carefully flits across the room, seeking more threats, I watch the frozen shadow thaw unnaturally fast-leaving naught but oily stains and what looks like crumbled charcoal to show something was ever there. Again, the room is filled with bodies-again, none looking out of place, all sporting the heart-centered sore.
Shadowbro, were those beings of shadow?
>"No... not primarily. There was some of the Dark to them... I'd need longer to observe one to give you more."
Great. Well, that's two down-that means there's at most three more by Hafaz' estimate.
>"Four minutes in."
Fuck-picking up the pace.
Again, nothing in the stairs, save more blood and bullet holes without any corpses. The fourth floor holds no surprises-neither does the fifth. I'm breezing through this building, finding no traps-and no answers.
As I turn the corner to ascend to the sixth floor, that finally changes: I perceive a soul sharing the building with us, just a bit farther up ahead-it's not focusing it's attention on me, not yet, but I can feel it's aware there's others here. ....I also have a rather nasty flashback, as the blood slowly dripping down the steps is far too similar to what I encountered on a certain boat for my liking. With my arm aching for no rational reason, I continue up the steps, timing breathing, weight shift, everything I do to be obscured behind the actions of the far more noticeable Hillevi. My efforts are, to a degree, rewarded.
>[Gruff Voice][In Turkish]"'Less you're the law or you're a beastie, I got no quarrel with you today-leave, Practitioner."
>"Interesting. Sounds like he only detected one person?"
>[Iron Trick]"Even more important he intimated that were you either of the others he WOULD have a quarrel-is that a hint as to what he's here for?"
Seems to me the most important thing is that I actually learned Turkish.
>"Yeah, would probably make less sense if you hadn't."
Hm. Hillevi's been detected, to a degree-but hasn't spoken. Could he know her gender? Could I get away with being the 'practitioner's' voice?
Let's find out.
"Be happy to leave-with some acquantances of mine."
>[Blackbeard][In Turkish]"Aaah, the Middle Easterners-you want them? Take them."
That... didn't sound like a challenge, not really-but it felt like one.
Unfortunately for me, that seems to conclude my time to 'consider' things as Hillevi likewise seems to have seen a challenge in those words-a challenge she should rise to. So, rather than futilely trying to restrain her-I follow her up, behind her now full-ice-encased body.
>"Six minutes in."
The sight I see peaking over Hillevi's back is... memorable, to say the least. This floor is similarly strewn with corpses-but unlike past floors, the corpses are liberally intermixed with blocks of charcoal and sooty stains, more than a score such marks dirtying the carpets. There is... a man-made mountain before a supply cabinet, corpses piled to chest height-with a man sitting atop the grisly throne, swords lodged into the slain he's seated on in a semicircle about him, a rifle larger than any I've ever seen carried rather than mounted idly leaned again his shoulder, a mass of gold chains, amulets, jeweled charms and broaches turning his chest into a glittering sea of opulence. I can feel the bloodletting powers in one sword, the space-distorting magic in another-but the rest of his swords stand too close to his mass of gold, and are... filled with static to my senses. Beneath his bejeweled finery, a simple bnlack tactical vest and black cargo pants go with black boots and a dark grey undershirt. Atop his head sits an almost foppish hat, it's brim wide enough to make me think of cartoon caricatures, with a band made of carefully folded pieces of currency from around the world. Adorning the man's face is a beard so heavily curled and bristling it seems to have it's own sense of gravity, the lone thing allowed to rest atop his mass of charms. He sits easy, this averagely sized man, and oozes lazy confidence.
But more than all of that, what strikes me most is his soul. Instead of some iteration of himself, or a facet that he is most defined by-his soul looks to me like a grasping hand, loosely clutched about the world itself, and exudes such an oppressive air of greed-fueled ambition my eyes water. This is a man not ruled by greed-but one that rules Greed itself, having made it such an inseperable part of himself that I truly wonder if he could even be called human. Not a trace, not the slightest whiff of morality, empathy or compassion can be detected-only that cold, all-consuming lust to claim everything in the world as his.
This man.... is fucking dangerous.
[Music]
>[Blackbeard][In Turkish]"Two of you huh? 'Sfine, I don't care-but you're only getting your friends if you swear a soul-oath to leave right after. I've got shit to do, and I don't need you in my way."
"Where are they?"
Blackbeard points over his shoulder at the blockaded supply room door.
>[Blackbeard][In Turkish]"In there-so you want to make the deal or not?"
"First tell me if the... other entrants to this building were associated with you."
>[Blackbeard][In Turkish]"The Ashfreaks? Hah, no, they've got nothing to do with me-I kill them, that's it for our 'association'. Now do you want to still be hear when the real party starts, or do you actually plan to take me up on my offer? I'm slightly more inclined to conserve resources than blithely kill you two-so I'd recommend taking the offer."
>"Seven minutes."
I'm about to reply when I feel a... pull, a faint tug on my soul. Without even thinking, my head turns to face the sensation, still sheltered behind Hillevi's indomitable form.
The windows briefly bow inward, flexing absurdly before they shatter-as I hear a familiar voice.
>[Sake]"I THOUGHT I smelled her ice-FOUND YOU!"
Happy as I am to see Sake again, I am less than happy when I see Blackbeard immediately reacted to this-by beginning to heft his massive rifle.
Well fuck that.
>>361133
>>361188
Dkay, if you actually have complaints, you can put them in discussion, or get on IRC and tell me, or ask someone on IRC to pass it on if I'm not on. They don't really belong in the main quest thread-and idyllically, you'd offer solutions with what you have personally identified as problem areas, rather than just saying 'I don't like this', as (and I suppose I could be missing something) that doesn't have the capacity to be a productive comment, since all you did was offer your dislike. You may not have noticed, but only the bottom 35% of your post is an actual suggestion.
[16, 81, 73, 35, 26, 98 = 329/600, 54.8%]
Now, I may not be the best shot. Or the fastest shot. Or, in fact, even that good of a shot. Similarly I don't draw particularly swiftly, nor do I hip fire with particular accuracy.
What I CAN do, is draw a revolver from a chest rig faster than he can flip about his likely hundred-pound monstrosity of a gun.
What I CAN do is take aim at a man-sized target twenty feet away before he can catch up.
What I CAN do-
Is completely ignore his charms entirely, and shoot solely-
At his shadow.
One bullet's close to missing-I admit that. It's at best a half inch away from not even touching the man's shadow-but it doesn't matter if it hit him square on or clipped him-a hit's a hit, where shadows and the Trick are concerned.
>[Iron Trick]"Here here."
It's right around when I'm pluging the last two rounds in his shadow that... something goes wrong.
With a roar loud enough the windows nearest him shatter, the still moving Blackbeard fires-
For a moment there is a sensation of being in a vacuum as Hillevi rocks back, barely avoiding falling to her back with my help-
But she is not injured. No blood stains the ground-only chips of ice. There is a gouge in her shoulder's ice armor-and a quick glance behind me shows that there's a hole in the stairwell wall that goes farther than I can see-
But we're both alive and unharmed-
Which makes my priority harming the other fuck.
>[Sake]"What are you doing having fun like this when I'm not around!?"
Sake possessively lands on the ground betwixt us and Blackbeard, his overlong back arching in the air and... wiggling.
>"Please don't tell me he's trying to be intimidating..."
Idly plucking bullets from his shadow, Blackbeard keeps his eyes locked on the three of us, still seated atop the mass of bodies.
>[Blackbeard][In Turkish]"...Why is there a Ramidreju using Wind Manipulation coming to your aid?"
As he asks, his free hand comes smoothly from a pocket-holding what looks distressingly likea detonator to me.
>[Blackbeard][In Turkish]"And if you don't want to answer that-care to guess where the bombs you missed are? Or whether you'd survive a building collapsing with you in it?"
>"Eight minutes."
I can see my foe, I know where those I need to save are, it looks like Hillevi can actually... tank through Blackbeard's gunfire, and the three brothers have once more united.
So what am I going to do?
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