Following the directions led down a narrow street, then another, until rotten poverty was proudly displayed by the shantytown like a banner. Filthy cobbles cringed beneath the shadows of overhanging houses, as if themselves in fear of the human predators who claimed this forsaken patch of city district as their own. And forsaken it was, for the Guard and Judges took no interest in the goings on here, no interest who suffered, so someone needed to step in.
And someone was.
Eyes evaluated the worth of their swords and the strength of their arms rather than a warrior's honour. Frightened people scurried away from the armoured gathering, avoiding them as best they may, each seeking to escape the presence of these interlopers before they were caught or seen near them. That was an unwelcome sight, although the hiding and scrambling for cover spared the group from witnessing the local enormity of human suffering.
One narrow passage between two buildings was barely wide enough for the armoured shoulders passing through, and took some effort maneuvering shields or spears. Through the small alleyway, around a sufficiently ominous corner, there was a tiny court enclosed by windowless walls. That alone created a thick haze of shadow in the area. Approaching, there was a sound of faint scuttling among the scattered debris, and a wall of silence from the outside world.
The perfect place for illicit dealings.
Drawing his sword, Aorle had a simple plan. "Sigvard, Thetta, sweep around the divider to the left. Numidar, Osaw, take the divider to the right. Julen, with me down the center, careful for traps. Any objections, raise them now."
Once that was covered, he approached the door, which was locked. Knights had a tool for opening locked doors.
It was called a pauldron.
Counterstrike
-
Sir Karsimir
- Citizen
- Posts: 714
- Joined: Wed Jan 10, 2007 8:12 pm
- Name: Karsimir Von Greyssen
- Race: Reichvolk human
Counterstrike
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
Re: Counterstrike
After breakfast, Julen bid a fond farewell to Rosemary. Although understandably concerned, she seemed to take his mission in stride, and embraced him with the confidence of someone who expects to see their husband again. Lingering beside him, she made small talk while he finished putting on the rest of his armor. Then, she placed her hands on his shoulders, giving him a thorough inspection. Julen suspected that she was determined to make sure every piece had been put in its proper place -- her husband would not leave the base only partially armored a second time. Finally satisfied by what she saw, Rosemary gave him a kiss and went to help Martha prepare breakfast for the refugees.
Aorle was clearly looking forward to the coming battles, and his enthusiasm quickly spread through the party of warriors accompanying him. When he paused to address them, eager shouts of agreement punctuated his words. “No more! It ends today! We will bring his victims to safety!”
“For Bethany!” Sigvard still hadn’t entirely grasped altruism, but he’d grown rather fond of the girl and her mother. Besides, even during his days as a coastal raider, he would have found Snyde’s behavior reprehensible. Only the vilest sort of man bullied a mother by threatening to murder her child.
“For all women!” Naturally, Thetta took a broader view.
For Kaydee. The words didn’t quite manage to leave Julen’s mouth, although his lips shaped them. Not vengeance. Not cruelty. But justice and the promise that Snyde would never again harm her. That was what he would give Kaydee. That was what she deserved.
As they moved through the shanty town, and Julen watched its residents scurry away like frightened mice, he couldn’t help wondering if any of them recognized him. Recognized him as the man who’d given them bread. Recognized him as the man they’d left lying in the street to die. Against his will, a sense of irritation began to fester inside Julen. Wasn’t some of this the fault of those who now ran and hid? If the residents of the shanty town had banded together, if they’d stood up to Snyde and his ilk before now, couldn’t so much anguish have been prevented?
But almost as soon as the thought entered Julen’s head, he shook it out again. It was all too easy for him -- a man in his prime, both armed and armored -- to accuse others of cowardice. He had so many advantages that they didn’t. Besides, even if it was true that some who now suffered under Snyde deserved their misery, it was also true that many more did not. Assigning blame was not the point. Getting rid of Snyde was. With fresh resolve, Julen gripped the hilt of his sword.
Soon, they’d gotten close enough that Julen began to recognize landmarks, guiding the group back to the place where he’d first been ambushed. Julen felt his senses sharpen as they started down the narrow alley. But otherwise, he was surprisingly unafraid. This confrontation would not end as the last one had. This time, he was not unprepared. And he was far from alone.
Pausing for a moment, Aorle gave a few quick instructions. Then, backing up as much as the small space allowed, he charged at the locked door. Metal met wood in a brief but ultimately futile contest. After only three charges, the sound of splintering timber filled the courtyard, and the door collapsed. Beyond it, Julen could see the familiar room. Thankfully, on this day the shackles hung empty, but two young women cowered near them, flanked by a pair of club-wielding thugs. Clearly, Snyde’s men intended to try an ambush similar to the one that had caught Julen.
Except this time, it didn’t work nearly so well. The thugs hiding behind the screens expected to be ignored until the Lightswords were all in the center of the room. Being immediately attacked caught them off guard. Their hasty defense was not enough to protect them from their opponent’s blades, and when one of the screens fell, knocked over by the fighting behind it, a grisly scene was revealed. Meanwhile, the two thugs guarding the women found themselves facing opponents who could do considerably more harm to them than they could do in return. That skirmish didn’t last long either.
When the last of Snyde’s brutes had fallen, Julen wiped the blood from his sword and approached the two women. “It’s alright,” he assured them. “You’re safe n--”
His words were cut off by a defiant scream from the smaller lady. “Stay away! We know what you did with the others!” With a swift movement, she drew a knife from the folds of her skirt and lunged at Julen. “We’ll die before we let you sell us as slaves!”
Aorle was clearly looking forward to the coming battles, and his enthusiasm quickly spread through the party of warriors accompanying him. When he paused to address them, eager shouts of agreement punctuated his words. “No more! It ends today! We will bring his victims to safety!”
“For Bethany!” Sigvard still hadn’t entirely grasped altruism, but he’d grown rather fond of the girl and her mother. Besides, even during his days as a coastal raider, he would have found Snyde’s behavior reprehensible. Only the vilest sort of man bullied a mother by threatening to murder her child.
“For all women!” Naturally, Thetta took a broader view.
For Kaydee. The words didn’t quite manage to leave Julen’s mouth, although his lips shaped them. Not vengeance. Not cruelty. But justice and the promise that Snyde would never again harm her. That was what he would give Kaydee. That was what she deserved.
As they moved through the shanty town, and Julen watched its residents scurry away like frightened mice, he couldn’t help wondering if any of them recognized him. Recognized him as the man who’d given them bread. Recognized him as the man they’d left lying in the street to die. Against his will, a sense of irritation began to fester inside Julen. Wasn’t some of this the fault of those who now ran and hid? If the residents of the shanty town had banded together, if they’d stood up to Snyde and his ilk before now, couldn’t so much anguish have been prevented?
But almost as soon as the thought entered Julen’s head, he shook it out again. It was all too easy for him -- a man in his prime, both armed and armored -- to accuse others of cowardice. He had so many advantages that they didn’t. Besides, even if it was true that some who now suffered under Snyde deserved their misery, it was also true that many more did not. Assigning blame was not the point. Getting rid of Snyde was. With fresh resolve, Julen gripped the hilt of his sword.
Soon, they’d gotten close enough that Julen began to recognize landmarks, guiding the group back to the place where he’d first been ambushed. Julen felt his senses sharpen as they started down the narrow alley. But otherwise, he was surprisingly unafraid. This confrontation would not end as the last one had. This time, he was not unprepared. And he was far from alone.
Pausing for a moment, Aorle gave a few quick instructions. Then, backing up as much as the small space allowed, he charged at the locked door. Metal met wood in a brief but ultimately futile contest. After only three charges, the sound of splintering timber filled the courtyard, and the door collapsed. Beyond it, Julen could see the familiar room. Thankfully, on this day the shackles hung empty, but two young women cowered near them, flanked by a pair of club-wielding thugs. Clearly, Snyde’s men intended to try an ambush similar to the one that had caught Julen.
Except this time, it didn’t work nearly so well. The thugs hiding behind the screens expected to be ignored until the Lightswords were all in the center of the room. Being immediately attacked caught them off guard. Their hasty defense was not enough to protect them from their opponent’s blades, and when one of the screens fell, knocked over by the fighting behind it, a grisly scene was revealed. Meanwhile, the two thugs guarding the women found themselves facing opponents who could do considerably more harm to them than they could do in return. That skirmish didn’t last long either.
When the last of Snyde’s brutes had fallen, Julen wiped the blood from his sword and approached the two women. “It’s alright,” he assured them. “You’re safe n--”
His words were cut off by a defiant scream from the smaller lady. “Stay away! We know what you did with the others!” With a swift movement, she drew a knife from the folds of her skirt and lunged at Julen. “We’ll die before we let you sell us as slaves!”
Shim -- where the men are men, and the livestock are scared.
-
Sir Karsimir
- Citizen
- Posts: 714
- Joined: Wed Jan 10, 2007 8:12 pm
- Name: Karsimir Von Greyssen
- Race: Reichvolk human
Re: Counterstrike
How very strange. Screaming for someone to 'stay away', and then lunging at them. Aorle would never understand some people.
What he did understand were attacks with knives, as well as the appropriate response in most cases. Although most cases did not involve the attacker with the knife being a terrified woman. An alternate solution was called for. A solution at the very least. Even with armoured fighters, a knife lunge left unopposed could potentially find gaps in armour, slip inside a helmet to strike eye or neck. Gender was a poor excuse for this situation.
Stepping forth, he slammed a canvas palm down upon the outstretched knife-hand, meeting the attack with a forceful parry. From there, he followed through to grip the hand, curling his fingers to push inside the palm while his thumb pressed up behind the knuckles, forcing the hand to go limp as he folded the wrist upon itself. The lock hurt, he made no excuses for that, it also weakened her grip on the knife enough for the hand doing the lock to slide up her palm and strip the blade away, abandoning the hold as he did so.
"Calm yourself!" Aorle snapped, "And make no claims of being ill-treated." On that note, he discarded the knife behind him and began cleaning his sword as he spoke, in a voice quite prepared to overpower any attempted interruptions.
"Slaves? What do you call your life now? Forced to sell yourselves to strangers, for the profit of a criminal who controls you through cruelty and fear. What we did with the others is give a safe life for them and their children, the very children Snyde threatens to murder in order to frighten their mothers." While he could pity this poor woman's situation, Aorle could not simply overlook what her behaviour was supporting. With unmasked effort, he softened his tone. "The ladies are safe. As are you now. At present, I do not trust you with a weapon, not while there are innocent civilians in my care." Knives may pose small threat to armoured men, but another such outburst towards one of the refugees could result in the loss of innocent life, and Aorle was not taking that chance. "If you come with us, you will be fed, sheltered, treated with respect, and taught a new trade. If not, then there are innocent people in need of my help. Good day."
Stepping back, the paladin noticed his warriors had finished divesting the corpses of valuables, leaving the warriors free for other tasks. Good. "Thetta, handle this please." Aorle instructed, casting a nod towards the now-disarmed woman. Hopefully she would be better received than a man, since these poor victims had likely endured the worst aspects of men for so long.
Then an insight struck. Focusing again on the woman, Aorle gazed into her soul, searching for the taint of evil. "Why do Snyde's thugs allow you to carry a weapon?" The cowering woman was assumed to be an innocent captive, but captives were usually disarmed, and these thugs were hardly the sort to respect modesty in their searches.
What he did understand were attacks with knives, as well as the appropriate response in most cases. Although most cases did not involve the attacker with the knife being a terrified woman. An alternate solution was called for. A solution at the very least. Even with armoured fighters, a knife lunge left unopposed could potentially find gaps in armour, slip inside a helmet to strike eye or neck. Gender was a poor excuse for this situation.
Stepping forth, he slammed a canvas palm down upon the outstretched knife-hand, meeting the attack with a forceful parry. From there, he followed through to grip the hand, curling his fingers to push inside the palm while his thumb pressed up behind the knuckles, forcing the hand to go limp as he folded the wrist upon itself. The lock hurt, he made no excuses for that, it also weakened her grip on the knife enough for the hand doing the lock to slide up her palm and strip the blade away, abandoning the hold as he did so.
"Calm yourself!" Aorle snapped, "And make no claims of being ill-treated." On that note, he discarded the knife behind him and began cleaning his sword as he spoke, in a voice quite prepared to overpower any attempted interruptions.
"Slaves? What do you call your life now? Forced to sell yourselves to strangers, for the profit of a criminal who controls you through cruelty and fear. What we did with the others is give a safe life for them and their children, the very children Snyde threatens to murder in order to frighten their mothers." While he could pity this poor woman's situation, Aorle could not simply overlook what her behaviour was supporting. With unmasked effort, he softened his tone. "The ladies are safe. As are you now. At present, I do not trust you with a weapon, not while there are innocent civilians in my care." Knives may pose small threat to armoured men, but another such outburst towards one of the refugees could result in the loss of innocent life, and Aorle was not taking that chance. "If you come with us, you will be fed, sheltered, treated with respect, and taught a new trade. If not, then there are innocent people in need of my help. Good day."
Stepping back, the paladin noticed his warriors had finished divesting the corpses of valuables, leaving the warriors free for other tasks. Good. "Thetta, handle this please." Aorle instructed, casting a nod towards the now-disarmed woman. Hopefully she would be better received than a man, since these poor victims had likely endured the worst aspects of men for so long.
Then an insight struck. Focusing again on the woman, Aorle gazed into her soul, searching for the taint of evil. "Why do Snyde's thugs allow you to carry a weapon?" The cowering woman was assumed to be an innocent captive, but captives were usually disarmed, and these thugs were hardly the sort to respect modesty in their searches.
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
Re: Counterstrike
Julen, who had been too startled by the attack to do anything except thrust his arm between his himself and the approaching knife, watched with no small amount of admiration as Aorle quickly and efficiently disarmed the panicked woman. Another lesson. In situations like this, even apparently innocent bystanders could still pose a threat. Julen would remember to be more cautious next time.
Deprived of her weapon, the woman shrank back a few steps. While Aorle spoke, she glared at him with fierce, feral eyes. Once or twice, her mouth even opened. But Aorle managed to quell any comments she intended to make -- at least, until after he was done talking. And once he did finish, it was her companion who jumped into the ensuing silence.
“That sounds really nice! Maybe we should go with them, Sasha? We could have all the food we want and a safe place to sleep.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Sasha snapped. “I’m sure that’s what he told the others to get them to come quietly. It’s such an obvious lie. Why would someone do all that for the likes of us?” Returning her attention to Aorle, Sasha emitted a bitter laugh. “So I shouldn’t claim to be ill-treated, should I? Me, just minding my own business when the lot of you bust through the door, kill everyone in sight, and then loot the bodies. No sane person would consider that ill-treatment, would they?”
“Our life might not be very fine, but I’m not fool enough to think that there’s none worse. At least we aren’t kept chained up like animals. At least we aren’t worked until we die of exhaustion or starvation. That’s the fate of a slave. The fate you have planned for us!”
Drawn over by Aorle’s summons, Thetta attempted to intervene. “Your spirit is admirable, sister. But your wariness is misplaced. These men mean you no harm.” The way Thetta stressed the word “these” indicated that, in her opinion, most men remained suspect. Still, for her to even say that much demonstrated the uncharacteristic trust she’d come to feel toward her fellow Lightswords.
For a moment, Sasha hesitated, allowing Aorle to pick up on her echoes -- numerous, but small and petty, like a cloud of mosquitoes swarming around her. Lies told to curry favor, strength used to bully weaker spirits, dramas staged to topple potential rivals. The crimes committed by a woman born with ambition but never taught how to properly direct it.
“They gave me a weapon so I could defend myself from the likes of you. And if you don’t trust me with my little knife, then I don’t see why I should trust you with your great big sword. Come along, Tam.” Seizing her friend’s hand, Sasha started for the door, almost dragging the second young woman along behind her.
But before she could depart, Osaw blocked her path. “If we let her leave, there’s a good chance she’ll warn others. We’ll lose the element of surprise. Perhaps Thetta should escort her back to the hall and we can keep her there until this day is done.”
“Me?” Thetta protested. “I was brought along to fight, not to play babysitter. Tie them up and leave them here. We can come back for them when our business is finished.”
Now it was Julen’s turn to object. “In this part of town, leaving them bound and helpless might be the same as killing them. Couldn’t we just make them promise not to tell? Or something?”
All eyes turned toward Aorle, waiting for his decision.
Deprived of her weapon, the woman shrank back a few steps. While Aorle spoke, she glared at him with fierce, feral eyes. Once or twice, her mouth even opened. But Aorle managed to quell any comments she intended to make -- at least, until after he was done talking. And once he did finish, it was her companion who jumped into the ensuing silence.
“That sounds really nice! Maybe we should go with them, Sasha? We could have all the food we want and a safe place to sleep.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Sasha snapped. “I’m sure that’s what he told the others to get them to come quietly. It’s such an obvious lie. Why would someone do all that for the likes of us?” Returning her attention to Aorle, Sasha emitted a bitter laugh. “So I shouldn’t claim to be ill-treated, should I? Me, just minding my own business when the lot of you bust through the door, kill everyone in sight, and then loot the bodies. No sane person would consider that ill-treatment, would they?”
“Our life might not be very fine, but I’m not fool enough to think that there’s none worse. At least we aren’t kept chained up like animals. At least we aren’t worked until we die of exhaustion or starvation. That’s the fate of a slave. The fate you have planned for us!”
Drawn over by Aorle’s summons, Thetta attempted to intervene. “Your spirit is admirable, sister. But your wariness is misplaced. These men mean you no harm.” The way Thetta stressed the word “these” indicated that, in her opinion, most men remained suspect. Still, for her to even say that much demonstrated the uncharacteristic trust she’d come to feel toward her fellow Lightswords.
For a moment, Sasha hesitated, allowing Aorle to pick up on her echoes -- numerous, but small and petty, like a cloud of mosquitoes swarming around her. Lies told to curry favor, strength used to bully weaker spirits, dramas staged to topple potential rivals. The crimes committed by a woman born with ambition but never taught how to properly direct it.
“They gave me a weapon so I could defend myself from the likes of you. And if you don’t trust me with my little knife, then I don’t see why I should trust you with your great big sword. Come along, Tam.” Seizing her friend’s hand, Sasha started for the door, almost dragging the second young woman along behind her.
But before she could depart, Osaw blocked her path. “If we let her leave, there’s a good chance she’ll warn others. We’ll lose the element of surprise. Perhaps Thetta should escort her back to the hall and we can keep her there until this day is done.”
“Me?” Thetta protested. “I was brought along to fight, not to play babysitter. Tie them up and leave them here. We can come back for them when our business is finished.”
Now it was Julen’s turn to object. “In this part of town, leaving them bound and helpless might be the same as killing them. Couldn’t we just make them promise not to tell? Or something?”
All eyes turned toward Aorle, waiting for his decision.
Shim -- where the men are men, and the livestock are scared.
-
Sir Karsimir
- Citizen
- Posts: 714
- Joined: Wed Jan 10, 2007 8:12 pm
- Name: Karsimir Von Greyssen
- Race: Reichvolk human
Re: Counterstrike
Bitter resentment was a thing to be pitied. Where pity ended, was in Sasha's attempt to drag Tam with her into the same mire of malignant hate. So eager to curse and accuse, Sasha's ready aggression towards a group of armed men announced her confident knowledge that no harm would come to her. She knew of their honour, and she thought it weakness.
"Gave? Of course, Sasha, you must be high in favour with Snyde for having so often sold out your fellow woman." The Shining One's suspiscions were confirmed. Cowards such as this who would sooner betray one in need than band together were how these gangs thrived. Hollow were the phantom gains wrought by treachery, for every profit came from supporting those who preyed on them, sustaining the parasite which blights their lives. "Echoes." Aorle explained to the rest of the group.
"On the subject of chains, remember whose wall these chains hang from. Remember the crimes you condone." Gesturing towards Numidar, then Sasha, and then the empty shackles, conveyed his order without words. The heavy iron key had been found on one of the thugs, with which the black-faced warrior imprisoned the mindless bully. Again, the Lightswords were addressed, so they would understand his decision. "No promise she makes will be honoured. Be wary of what we speak of in her presence, 'twill be passed on to Snyde if he lives to hear it." In league with our enemy, one who aided cruelty to thrive. Lying in gory heaps around them were examples of how men had been punished for their part in the same crimes.
Tam was entitled to help, whether Sasha approved or not, and the Shining One would ensure she received it. "As for the question asked, we do this because how you and others suffer here is unacceptable. As a Temple Knight of the Sundered Wing, I am pledged to safeguard the helpless and aid those in need." Granted, the Lightswords were there at his command, but were motivated by more than his will. This deserved mention. "My soldiers-at-arms are good people, who will not stand idly by and watch injustice within their power to prevent."
From the plunder taken among the dead, Aorle drew out four bishani and passed them to Tam. As an afterthought, the Shining One lifted his visor, to speak as a man and not a pointy steel mask. "Seek food and shelter, away from the shantytown. Choose somewhere public for us to seek you out once this is done, and tell me away from Sasha's hearing." Next gesture of good faith was to pass Tam the knife. Every option of security was hers, the Sword of Heaven was more than willing for her to be armed, watched and covered by sharpshooters should she feel need.
"If that is all, we will return to release Sasha when our work here is done. If she insists on claiming foul treatment, at least her claims will be false."
"Gave? Of course, Sasha, you must be high in favour with Snyde for having so often sold out your fellow woman." The Shining One's suspiscions were confirmed. Cowards such as this who would sooner betray one in need than band together were how these gangs thrived. Hollow were the phantom gains wrought by treachery, for every profit came from supporting those who preyed on them, sustaining the parasite which blights their lives. "Echoes." Aorle explained to the rest of the group.
"On the subject of chains, remember whose wall these chains hang from. Remember the crimes you condone." Gesturing towards Numidar, then Sasha, and then the empty shackles, conveyed his order without words. The heavy iron key had been found on one of the thugs, with which the black-faced warrior imprisoned the mindless bully. Again, the Lightswords were addressed, so they would understand his decision. "No promise she makes will be honoured. Be wary of what we speak of in her presence, 'twill be passed on to Snyde if he lives to hear it." In league with our enemy, one who aided cruelty to thrive. Lying in gory heaps around them were examples of how men had been punished for their part in the same crimes.
Tam was entitled to help, whether Sasha approved or not, and the Shining One would ensure she received it. "As for the question asked, we do this because how you and others suffer here is unacceptable. As a Temple Knight of the Sundered Wing, I am pledged to safeguard the helpless and aid those in need." Granted, the Lightswords were there at his command, but were motivated by more than his will. This deserved mention. "My soldiers-at-arms are good people, who will not stand idly by and watch injustice within their power to prevent."
From the plunder taken among the dead, Aorle drew out four bishani and passed them to Tam. As an afterthought, the Shining One lifted his visor, to speak as a man and not a pointy steel mask. "Seek food and shelter, away from the shantytown. Choose somewhere public for us to seek you out once this is done, and tell me away from Sasha's hearing." Next gesture of good faith was to pass Tam the knife. Every option of security was hers, the Sword of Heaven was more than willing for her to be armed, watched and covered by sharpshooters should she feel need.
"If that is all, we will return to release Sasha when our work here is done. If she insists on claiming foul treatment, at least her claims will be false."
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
Re: Counterstrike
Julen understood that Aorle must have seen evil in Sasha’s echoes. He understood that she was probably in league with Snyde, that she’d almost certainly won favor by oppressing young women like Kaydee. He understood that if Aorle let her go, and she did warn Snyde, innocent people would be denied their rescue while his own comrades would be placed in much greater danger. All this, he understood. But he still wanted the squeeze his eyes shut and clamp his hands over his ears as Sasha was dragged over to the shackles.
It must be right, Julen told himself. Aorle wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t right. But gods, it didn’t feel right. It felt worse than when he’d stood by and let the mercenary bleed to death. It felt worse than walking amongst fallen opponents after a battle, finishing off those that weren’t yet dead.
“There must be another way,” he protested, his voice weakened by the fact that he could think of no other way.
With an unfaltering gaze, and no sign of doubt in her icy blue eyes, Thetta answered him. “This is what must be done.”
“She’s a woman!” At his heart, Julen remained somewhat old-fashioned. “I thought you were on some crusade to protect women.”
“I regret that the lust and greed of men has forced her to become this. But she is clearly our enemy. How could I demand that you view me as an equal if I request special treatment for her?” Thetta shook her head. “She is already getting more mercy than she deserves. If a man had attacked you with a knife, we would not be having this discussion. He would be lying dead among the others.”
Julen couldn’t deny that. Unwillingly, he looked over at Sasha, who was hissing and attempting to bite Numidar as he secured her wrists in the shackles. The same shackles that had held Kaydee. Julen knew that he would never forget seeing Kaydee beaten and naked, chained to that same wall. What if they came back at the end of the day and found Sasha in a similar state? Would it matter that they hadn’t been the ones to directly harm her? Would it matter what crimes she might have committed? Or would she simply be a woman that they’d -- that he’d -- rendered helpless and then left in a situation where others might abuse her?
“No.” Julen had no idea if what he was about to say might be considered insubordination or even treason. But in that moment, he didn’t care. “Two days ago, I came here to free a woman from those shackles. I will not leave another chained in her place.”
Struck by sudden clarity about what needed to be done, Julen approached Tam. The young woman looked like a terrified rabbit, clutching the bishani that Aorle had given her in one hand, and Sasha’s knife in the other. “Tam,” Julen began, in a voice that was both gentle and firm. “We do not choose the moments when we must be heroes. We do not get to prepare or rehearse for them. They come without warning, forcing us to become more than we ever thought we could be. This is your moment.”
“Sasha is now your responsibility. If you wish, you can unlock her and take her somewhere for a meal. You can even bring her to the safe place that Aorle told you about.” Julen figured that if Snyde wanted to know the location of the base, he already knew. They weren’t exactly inconspicuous and they’d made no effort to hide their comings and goings. “But it’s very important that you make sure she doesn’t talk to Snyde, or any of his allies, until this day is finished. If you fail at that, good men may die. Men who only want to help you and those like you.”
“Will you do this, Tam? Will you be a hero?”
Tam looked at the bishani. She looked at the knife. She looked at Aorle. Then, last of all, she looked at Sasha. And she nodded. “I will.”
“Good.” Julen nodded at Numidar. “Give her the key.” However, the dark warrior made no move to do so, and he clearly wasn’t going to until the order came from Aorle.
“You had faith that a farmer could become an honorable warrior,” Julen reminded his friend. “Have faith that she can be a hero. Please.”
It must be right, Julen told himself. Aorle wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t right. But gods, it didn’t feel right. It felt worse than when he’d stood by and let the mercenary bleed to death. It felt worse than walking amongst fallen opponents after a battle, finishing off those that weren’t yet dead.
“There must be another way,” he protested, his voice weakened by the fact that he could think of no other way.
With an unfaltering gaze, and no sign of doubt in her icy blue eyes, Thetta answered him. “This is what must be done.”
“She’s a woman!” At his heart, Julen remained somewhat old-fashioned. “I thought you were on some crusade to protect women.”
“I regret that the lust and greed of men has forced her to become this. But she is clearly our enemy. How could I demand that you view me as an equal if I request special treatment for her?” Thetta shook her head. “She is already getting more mercy than she deserves. If a man had attacked you with a knife, we would not be having this discussion. He would be lying dead among the others.”
Julen couldn’t deny that. Unwillingly, he looked over at Sasha, who was hissing and attempting to bite Numidar as he secured her wrists in the shackles. The same shackles that had held Kaydee. Julen knew that he would never forget seeing Kaydee beaten and naked, chained to that same wall. What if they came back at the end of the day and found Sasha in a similar state? Would it matter that they hadn’t been the ones to directly harm her? Would it matter what crimes she might have committed? Or would she simply be a woman that they’d -- that he’d -- rendered helpless and then left in a situation where others might abuse her?
“No.” Julen had no idea if what he was about to say might be considered insubordination or even treason. But in that moment, he didn’t care. “Two days ago, I came here to free a woman from those shackles. I will not leave another chained in her place.”
Struck by sudden clarity about what needed to be done, Julen approached Tam. The young woman looked like a terrified rabbit, clutching the bishani that Aorle had given her in one hand, and Sasha’s knife in the other. “Tam,” Julen began, in a voice that was both gentle and firm. “We do not choose the moments when we must be heroes. We do not get to prepare or rehearse for them. They come without warning, forcing us to become more than we ever thought we could be. This is your moment.”
“Sasha is now your responsibility. If you wish, you can unlock her and take her somewhere for a meal. You can even bring her to the safe place that Aorle told you about.” Julen figured that if Snyde wanted to know the location of the base, he already knew. They weren’t exactly inconspicuous and they’d made no effort to hide their comings and goings. “But it’s very important that you make sure she doesn’t talk to Snyde, or any of his allies, until this day is finished. If you fail at that, good men may die. Men who only want to help you and those like you.”
“Will you do this, Tam? Will you be a hero?”
Tam looked at the bishani. She looked at the knife. She looked at Aorle. Then, last of all, she looked at Sasha. And she nodded. “I will.”
“Good.” Julen nodded at Numidar. “Give her the key.” However, the dark warrior made no move to do so, and he clearly wasn’t going to until the order came from Aorle.
“You had faith that a farmer could become an honorable warrior,” Julen reminded his friend. “Have faith that she can be a hero. Please.”
Shim -- where the men are men, and the livestock are scared.
-
Sir Karsimir
- Citizen
- Posts: 714
- Joined: Wed Jan 10, 2007 8:12 pm
- Name: Karsimir Von Greyssen
- Race: Reichvolk human
Re: Counterstrike
"I gave no such order." Then, after a moment's pause. "Agreed."
Then the Shining One held up an open palm to halt any further action from the other Lightswords based on that agreement. At once he approved of the solution and needed to deal with the threat to the chain of command. Striding again towards Tam, a few more words of guidance and encouragement were needed.
"She will attempt to threaten you, blackmail you, frighten you. I am sure she has done so before. Do not be swayed. Take any steps you deem fit, and have faith in your own strength. As stated, she is now your responsibility." Proceding smoothly, Aorle turned to face Julen without stopping...
"And yours. You will hold the key in your keeping, and release her on meeting her next."
Fresh commands were instantly given out regarding the new plan of action. "We rip the chains from the walls. Keep her hands bound with them." Referring to Sasha. Faith in Tam being a hero did not mean risking her safety, and Sasha with her hands free was a potential danger to Tam. Already Sasha had proved an inclination towards violent behaviour against those who would not fight back, and there was no certainty of Tam's willingness to use that knife in her defence. No cause to gamble her life on it.
Setting to work, the Lightswords pulled the chains free through combined strength, spewing forth a cloud of dust from broken mortar. Then, the hanging chains on Sasha's arms were wrapped in a restrictive knot together, with the steel having no natural give like rope bindings, no flex to help loosen the knot. "And no, we keep Sasha away from the shelter for now. Redemption is all well and good, but innocent people are in need of our help and they take priority."
Wary of using names in front of Sasha, Aorle gestured towards Osaw, Numidar, Sigvard and Thetta. "Outside." A nod towards Julen, "With me." Now with only the dead to hear them, the knight spoke to Julen in private.
"Wise counsel indeed. You did well in seeking that strength in Tam. The quality is a step towards serjeant. Heed this; attempting to overrule my orders strains the loyalties of all among us, as all present are forced to side against a comrade regardless of what we choose. Your wishes were respected. Your request, granted. In future, address your objections to me without directly challenging my orders." Perfectly calm. Unperturbed. By now the Shining One recognised this as a simple unfamiliarity with the inner workings of military leadership and saw no cause for resentment.
Considering the matter settled, Aorle turned to rejoin the other Lightswords and begin seeking out the next den of evil.
Then the Shining One held up an open palm to halt any further action from the other Lightswords based on that agreement. At once he approved of the solution and needed to deal with the threat to the chain of command. Striding again towards Tam, a few more words of guidance and encouragement were needed.
"She will attempt to threaten you, blackmail you, frighten you. I am sure she has done so before. Do not be swayed. Take any steps you deem fit, and have faith in your own strength. As stated, she is now your responsibility." Proceding smoothly, Aorle turned to face Julen without stopping...
"And yours. You will hold the key in your keeping, and release her on meeting her next."
Fresh commands were instantly given out regarding the new plan of action. "We rip the chains from the walls. Keep her hands bound with them." Referring to Sasha. Faith in Tam being a hero did not mean risking her safety, and Sasha with her hands free was a potential danger to Tam. Already Sasha had proved an inclination towards violent behaviour against those who would not fight back, and there was no certainty of Tam's willingness to use that knife in her defence. No cause to gamble her life on it.
Setting to work, the Lightswords pulled the chains free through combined strength, spewing forth a cloud of dust from broken mortar. Then, the hanging chains on Sasha's arms were wrapped in a restrictive knot together, with the steel having no natural give like rope bindings, no flex to help loosen the knot. "And no, we keep Sasha away from the shelter for now. Redemption is all well and good, but innocent people are in need of our help and they take priority."
Wary of using names in front of Sasha, Aorle gestured towards Osaw, Numidar, Sigvard and Thetta. "Outside." A nod towards Julen, "With me." Now with only the dead to hear them, the knight spoke to Julen in private.
"Wise counsel indeed. You did well in seeking that strength in Tam. The quality is a step towards serjeant. Heed this; attempting to overrule my orders strains the loyalties of all among us, as all present are forced to side against a comrade regardless of what we choose. Your wishes were respected. Your request, granted. In future, address your objections to me without directly challenging my orders." Perfectly calm. Unperturbed. By now the Shining One recognised this as a simple unfamiliarity with the inner workings of military leadership and saw no cause for resentment.
Considering the matter settled, Aorle turned to rejoin the other Lightswords and begin seeking out the next den of evil.
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
Re: Counterstrike
Tam listened to Aorle’s instructions with bright eyes and an attentive impression. When he’d finished, she touched the tip of the knife to her chest and bowed her head, saluting him in the manner she’d picked up from watching some of Snyde’s thugs show respect to their superiors. “I’ll be strong. I won’t let her hurt nobody, and I won’t let nobody hurt her. You won’t regret doing this.”
Meanwhile, Julen stared at the iron key which Aorle had placed in the palm of his hand. It felt unnaturally heavy for such a small object. The weight of Sasha’s bondage, the weight of his responsibility for what happened to her while she was bound, and the weight of his obligation to free her -- those were all his to carry now. Not a comfortable burden. But one that had been fairly placed on his shoulders. Carefully, Julen dropped the key into his pouch.
The process of ripping the shackles loose from the wall was hindered only by Sasha, who struggled as fiercely against being set free as she’d struggled against being chained. Some people, Julen decided with a silent sigh, are just contrary. Still, it felt good to see her liberated. And to know that the iron chains which now dangled from her wrists would never again hold one of Snyde’s victims.
“There’s a place near here,” Tam told Julen. “A safe place, where a bishani will buy some space and food. And where people won’t ask us no questions. When you’re done helpin’ all those other innocents, you can meet us there, and set Sasha free. Then maybe we can all go to that nice shelter you told us about?”
“I hope so,” Julen agreed, conscious that the final decision would be Aorle’s.
After giving Julen directions to their intended rendezvous, Tam joined her friend. “Come on, Sasha. We get to have a day off. We can sit around, and eat, and talk. Maybe even play some games. It’ll be nice.”
By now, Sasha had given up trying to escape. Instead, she stood with her shoulders slumped forward, a perfect picture of abject misery. When Tam approached, Sasha held up her bound wrists. “It hurts, Tam!” she wailed. “It’s on too tight. Please ask them to loosen it. They won’t do it if I ask, because they all hate me!”
For a moment, Tam hesitated. Then she placed a hand on her friend’s arm and began leading her toward the door. “I’m sure it ain’t too comfortable, but it’s better than being chained to that wall. Tell you what -- when we get there, you can order whatever you want. That’ll take your mind off things.”
As they disappeared from sight, Julen shook his head. If Tam makes it through the day without throttling that young lady, she’s more than a hero. She’s a saint.
Julen appreciated Aorle’s point regarding the chain of command. And he also appreciated his friend’s decision to speak to him about it in private. “My apologies. I got caught up in the moment and forgot my place.” Julen certainly had no wish to cause divisiveness amongst the Lightswords. Nor did he want to be seen as trying to usurp Aorle’s position. In Julen’s opinion, Aorle was doing a splendid job leading, and Julen felt quite content to keep on following. “It won’t happen again.”
Their next target wasn’t too distant. Jenny had described it as a “brothel”, but the shabby building that her directions led them to was a far cry from the Ale Star. One door could be clearly seen from the street. Another door opened onto the back alley behind the building -- both doors were guarded by a pair of thugs who kept the riff-raff out and kept the girls in. According to Jenny’s description, the bottom floor was intended as a place for the men to drink and gamble, while the top floor housed rooms used for the actual prostitution.
Pausing a little way off, Julen waited for Aorle’s orders.
Meanwhile, Julen stared at the iron key which Aorle had placed in the palm of his hand. It felt unnaturally heavy for such a small object. The weight of Sasha’s bondage, the weight of his responsibility for what happened to her while she was bound, and the weight of his obligation to free her -- those were all his to carry now. Not a comfortable burden. But one that had been fairly placed on his shoulders. Carefully, Julen dropped the key into his pouch.
The process of ripping the shackles loose from the wall was hindered only by Sasha, who struggled as fiercely against being set free as she’d struggled against being chained. Some people, Julen decided with a silent sigh, are just contrary. Still, it felt good to see her liberated. And to know that the iron chains which now dangled from her wrists would never again hold one of Snyde’s victims.
“There’s a place near here,” Tam told Julen. “A safe place, where a bishani will buy some space and food. And where people won’t ask us no questions. When you’re done helpin’ all those other innocents, you can meet us there, and set Sasha free. Then maybe we can all go to that nice shelter you told us about?”
“I hope so,” Julen agreed, conscious that the final decision would be Aorle’s.
After giving Julen directions to their intended rendezvous, Tam joined her friend. “Come on, Sasha. We get to have a day off. We can sit around, and eat, and talk. Maybe even play some games. It’ll be nice.”
By now, Sasha had given up trying to escape. Instead, she stood with her shoulders slumped forward, a perfect picture of abject misery. When Tam approached, Sasha held up her bound wrists. “It hurts, Tam!” she wailed. “It’s on too tight. Please ask them to loosen it. They won’t do it if I ask, because they all hate me!”
For a moment, Tam hesitated. Then she placed a hand on her friend’s arm and began leading her toward the door. “I’m sure it ain’t too comfortable, but it’s better than being chained to that wall. Tell you what -- when we get there, you can order whatever you want. That’ll take your mind off things.”
As they disappeared from sight, Julen shook his head. If Tam makes it through the day without throttling that young lady, she’s more than a hero. She’s a saint.
Julen appreciated Aorle’s point regarding the chain of command. And he also appreciated his friend’s decision to speak to him about it in private. “My apologies. I got caught up in the moment and forgot my place.” Julen certainly had no wish to cause divisiveness amongst the Lightswords. Nor did he want to be seen as trying to usurp Aorle’s position. In Julen’s opinion, Aorle was doing a splendid job leading, and Julen felt quite content to keep on following. “It won’t happen again.”
Their next target wasn’t too distant. Jenny had described it as a “brothel”, but the shabby building that her directions led them to was a far cry from the Ale Star. One door could be clearly seen from the street. Another door opened onto the back alley behind the building -- both doors were guarded by a pair of thugs who kept the riff-raff out and kept the girls in. According to Jenny’s description, the bottom floor was intended as a place for the men to drink and gamble, while the top floor housed rooms used for the actual prostitution.
Pausing a little way off, Julen waited for Aorle’s orders.
Shim -- where the men are men, and the livestock are scared.
-
Sir Karsimir
- Citizen
- Posts: 714
- Joined: Wed Jan 10, 2007 8:12 pm
- Name: Karsimir Von Greyssen
- Race: Reichvolk human
Re: Counterstrike
Foul and wretched, this building bore the mark of cruelty like a stamp. The thugs were no brave defenders, they were enforcers of dark will upon the girls. This much Aorle knew, yet still he looked for signs. Sought signs that another, mortal men, could witness. For in seeing them, his path would be much clearer.
A place of business held customers, which posed a thorny problem. Each customer was a potential informant to Snyde. Still, the massacre of bystanders was hardly fitting behaviour, so the crux of the matter was whether these bystanders were innocent. Naive regarding city life, Aorle deferred to the knowledge of the others. "Any signs for a visitor to know the women are kept prisoner? I am trying to determine who should be spared. Any suggestions?" On a guess, most of the ladies would be underfed and show signs of poor health, perhaps bruises from ill-treatment. If so, that answered his dilemma. Any customers who knew the true nature of this business had effectively payed for permission to rape helpless and intimidated prisoners.
In which case, their lives are forfeit.
"I will leave to your judgement who lives or dies, as we may fight with customers as well." Hopefully few at this early hour, yet the possibility could not be ignored. "If you wish to spare lives, strike with spear hafts, shield rims or war gauntlets to subdue." There was doubt in place, and Aorle did not want to order deaths while in doubt.
Now for the plan of battle. "Sigvard, Thetta, Numidar. Take the back alley and kill the two there as swiftly as can be managed, ideally without alerting the others. We will cover the alleyway until you are done. When you are finished hold position until we attack from the front."
With that, weapons were readied. Once in the alleyway, Numidar would open the attack by throwing his spear, hoping to impale one thug without interfering with his allies and their rush. Combat would be both short and bloody.
Once that was done, Aorle would lead his men to the front and approach with speed and momentum, hacking at the thugs with his sword while they die horribly.
A place of business held customers, which posed a thorny problem. Each customer was a potential informant to Snyde. Still, the massacre of bystanders was hardly fitting behaviour, so the crux of the matter was whether these bystanders were innocent. Naive regarding city life, Aorle deferred to the knowledge of the others. "Any signs for a visitor to know the women are kept prisoner? I am trying to determine who should be spared. Any suggestions?" On a guess, most of the ladies would be underfed and show signs of poor health, perhaps bruises from ill-treatment. If so, that answered his dilemma. Any customers who knew the true nature of this business had effectively payed for permission to rape helpless and intimidated prisoners.
In which case, their lives are forfeit.
"I will leave to your judgement who lives or dies, as we may fight with customers as well." Hopefully few at this early hour, yet the possibility could not be ignored. "If you wish to spare lives, strike with spear hafts, shield rims or war gauntlets to subdue." There was doubt in place, and Aorle did not want to order deaths while in doubt.
Now for the plan of battle. "Sigvard, Thetta, Numidar. Take the back alley and kill the two there as swiftly as can be managed, ideally without alerting the others. We will cover the alleyway until you are done. When you are finished hold position until we attack from the front."
With that, weapons were readied. Once in the alleyway, Numidar would open the attack by throwing his spear, hoping to impale one thug without interfering with his allies and their rush. Combat would be both short and bloody.
Once that was done, Aorle would lead his men to the front and approach with speed and momentum, hacking at the thugs with his sword while they die horribly.
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
Re: Counterstrike
“Any man in there knows exactly what his money is buying him -- shame, misery and servitude.” Clearly, Thetta was not in a merciful mood. “Using your gold to rape someone is little better than using your sword. They are all guilty.”
Julen wondered what Thetta would say if she knew about the nights he’d walked past the Ale Star, casting furtive glances at its closed doors. Four months away from his wife, four months away from all but the most perfunctory human contact, and the loneliness had actually become something he could taste, a sour flavor that built in his mouth like a slimy film. What he’d wanted wasn’t rape. Just someone to look him in the eyes, to speak gently to him, to remind him of what human touch felt like. To kiss him until their tongue washed the sour taste away. Even if it was just for an hour or two.
Of course, he’d never gone inside. He’d been too poor, too scared, too unwilling to break promises made on his wedding day. And in any case, this place was not the Ale Star. Julen remembered the women he’d seen coming and going from the town’s main brothel. They were beautiful, dressed in pretty gowns and sparkling jewelry, apparently happy with their lives. The women here...well, Julen hadn’t glimpsed any yet, but judging by the refugees they’d taken in so far, he suspected they were in far worse shape.
“There might be other employees,” Sigvard speculated. “Someone who serves the drinks or someone who cleans up. Should we judge them as harshly as the thugs who guard the doors?”
Searching for any of the signs that Aorle had requested, Julen stared at the building in front of them. There were no windows on the first floor. The windows on the second floor were small and covered by iron grates. All in all, the place did resemble a jail, but such security might have been put in place to protect the women inside rather than to imprison them. Julen doubted that was the case, but a more naive man might be able to make himself believe it. Finally, unable to give Aorle a definite answer, Julen voiced his own plan. “I won’t try to kill anyone who isn’t trying to harm me or others.” That seemed fair. “I only hope that my opponents have the courtesy to make their intentions clear.”
Having settled the issue of innocent bystanders as much as it was likely to get settled, Sigvard, Thetta, and Numidar headed for the alley. Numidar’s spear struck the first thug in the back, and he sunk to the ground as brother and sister swiftly dispatched his comrade. Then, it was around to the front. The thugs guarding that door were accustomed to dealing with drunks and angry wives, but being charged by five warriors inspired absolute panic. Both immediately started trying to get inside -- although their retreat was somewhat hindered by a doorframe too narrow to allow them simultaneous passage. Pushing and shoving each other, neither had made much progress by the time Aorle’s sword cut a path through the air, shining like a shard of dawn’s own fiery light. One of the thugs crumbled. But his demise allowed his comrade to flee inside, with the warriors following close behind.
As Aorle had suspected, there were no customers at this hour in the morning. But there were six additional thugs. The men were seated at a table, drinking and playing dice. When their comrade came charging into the room, they started to rise, hands going for their weapons as they prepared to face whatever was chasing him. However, instead of joining them, the first thug kept running, dashing up a staircase toward the rear of the room. Julen heard screams greet the thug’s arrival on the second floor. Worried for the safety of innocent women, and trusting his fellow Lightswords to handle the six new opponents, Julen pursued the thug up the steps.
The second floor had been divided into a number of rooms, but Julen arrived in time to see which one the thug entered. And even if he hadn’t, another scream announced the man’s choice. Bursting in after him, sword clutched with a resolute grip, Julen prepared to end the reign of terror. Only to find that his foe had grabbed one of the women. Forcing the unfortunate prostitute to stumble along in front of him like a shield, the thug kept the blade of his knife close to her throat.
“Back off or I’ll cut her,” he snarled.
Unsure what to do, and unwilling to risk the young woman’s life, Julen lowered his sword and backed out into the hallway.
Julen wondered what Thetta would say if she knew about the nights he’d walked past the Ale Star, casting furtive glances at its closed doors. Four months away from his wife, four months away from all but the most perfunctory human contact, and the loneliness had actually become something he could taste, a sour flavor that built in his mouth like a slimy film. What he’d wanted wasn’t rape. Just someone to look him in the eyes, to speak gently to him, to remind him of what human touch felt like. To kiss him until their tongue washed the sour taste away. Even if it was just for an hour or two.
Of course, he’d never gone inside. He’d been too poor, too scared, too unwilling to break promises made on his wedding day. And in any case, this place was not the Ale Star. Julen remembered the women he’d seen coming and going from the town’s main brothel. They were beautiful, dressed in pretty gowns and sparkling jewelry, apparently happy with their lives. The women here...well, Julen hadn’t glimpsed any yet, but judging by the refugees they’d taken in so far, he suspected they were in far worse shape.
“There might be other employees,” Sigvard speculated. “Someone who serves the drinks or someone who cleans up. Should we judge them as harshly as the thugs who guard the doors?”
Searching for any of the signs that Aorle had requested, Julen stared at the building in front of them. There were no windows on the first floor. The windows on the second floor were small and covered by iron grates. All in all, the place did resemble a jail, but such security might have been put in place to protect the women inside rather than to imprison them. Julen doubted that was the case, but a more naive man might be able to make himself believe it. Finally, unable to give Aorle a definite answer, Julen voiced his own plan. “I won’t try to kill anyone who isn’t trying to harm me or others.” That seemed fair. “I only hope that my opponents have the courtesy to make their intentions clear.”
Having settled the issue of innocent bystanders as much as it was likely to get settled, Sigvard, Thetta, and Numidar headed for the alley. Numidar’s spear struck the first thug in the back, and he sunk to the ground as brother and sister swiftly dispatched his comrade. Then, it was around to the front. The thugs guarding that door were accustomed to dealing with drunks and angry wives, but being charged by five warriors inspired absolute panic. Both immediately started trying to get inside -- although their retreat was somewhat hindered by a doorframe too narrow to allow them simultaneous passage. Pushing and shoving each other, neither had made much progress by the time Aorle’s sword cut a path through the air, shining like a shard of dawn’s own fiery light. One of the thugs crumbled. But his demise allowed his comrade to flee inside, with the warriors following close behind.
As Aorle had suspected, there were no customers at this hour in the morning. But there were six additional thugs. The men were seated at a table, drinking and playing dice. When their comrade came charging into the room, they started to rise, hands going for their weapons as they prepared to face whatever was chasing him. However, instead of joining them, the first thug kept running, dashing up a staircase toward the rear of the room. Julen heard screams greet the thug’s arrival on the second floor. Worried for the safety of innocent women, and trusting his fellow Lightswords to handle the six new opponents, Julen pursued the thug up the steps.
The second floor had been divided into a number of rooms, but Julen arrived in time to see which one the thug entered. And even if he hadn’t, another scream announced the man’s choice. Bursting in after him, sword clutched with a resolute grip, Julen prepared to end the reign of terror. Only to find that his foe had grabbed one of the women. Forcing the unfortunate prostitute to stumble along in front of him like a shield, the thug kept the blade of his knife close to her throat.
“Back off or I’ll cut her,” he snarled.
Unsure what to do, and unwilling to risk the young woman’s life, Julen lowered his sword and backed out into the hallway.
Shim -- where the men are men, and the livestock are scared.
-
Sir Karsimir
- Citizen
- Posts: 714
- Joined: Wed Jan 10, 2007 8:12 pm
- Name: Karsimir Von Greyssen
- Race: Reichvolk human
Re: Counterstrike
Death came on swift wings for the six in the room. First was the rush of Numidar's spear, braced under one arm with the other arm steadying in a reverse grip, thumb nearest the dark warrior. That rush began low and then rose as the lunge ended in some fluid footwork which shifted the angle of attack nearer one side. The spear lanced through the neck of that thug, being yanked free a moment later to face the next onrusher who presumed their foe now vulnerable.
How wrong he was.
Twisting his body in a wide-legged stance made the motion of pulling the tapered spear from flesh bring it straight into a ready position under the arm, the only difference being that the angle of this attack approached Numidar's stance square-on rather than the ideal stance of leading with the slim profile of the side. Not that it made a difference with the added reach of the spear. As if launched by a coiled spring, the spear stabbed into flesh, transfixing the thug's leg while being twisted to enlarge the wound and hold the foe at range beyond the reach of that club, while Osaw ended him with one deadly sword-stroke to the neck.
Thetta simply ran in with spear braced, embedding her weapon into the warmth of a ribcage. The owner of said rib-cage died on Raven's Beak. Wolf's Fang was equally deadly, cutting high to demand a parry which was answered by a second cut across onto a shieldless arm.
Finally, Brightbiter set into grim work, first the Shining One leaping in to deliver a vast overhand stroke which aimed for the head. A heavy cudgel was raised to intercept it, yet the Shining One saw it coming and adjusted the angle of his hack to crash down upon the elbow, sundering bone as flesh was cloven. As the ruined arm lowered, Brightbiter was immediately sent into a horizontal slash which severed the head in true dramatic fashion. Two smooth steps brought the righteous knight to his next foe, approaching with his blade held in half-sword with the guard levelled at the waist. The thug saw this as an opening and swung for the head with his cudgel, to which one gauntlet detatched from the sword and swatted the blow aside, in the same moment as Brightbiter cannoned forth in a fast stab aimed for the heart. The second hand returned to the pommel to reinforce the killing thrust as it landed.
That finished, Osaw was to cover the staircase behind the others, ensuring the route of escape was closed for any who somehow passed the others, and providing them with an early warning of any reinforcements to enter later. Watching Julen backing away, sword lowered and unbloodied, told Aorle as much of the situation as the scream had. The wretch had a hostage.
In an instant, the path was clear. Cleaning off his longsword, Aorle lay Brightbiter down gently upon the floor, then his dagger beside it. Disarmed, he raised an open gauntlet as the signal for his armsmen to halt.
"We are here to bring the ladies to safety. Thus, you will not be allowed to leave with her. I will take her place." announced Aorle, as if the thug had no choice in matter.
On that note, he turned his back to the thug and approached, hands on his head and walking backwards slowly, seeming to truly offer himself as a hostage. If the grunt slashed his throat, the Shining One could heal himself. Better him than an innocent woman.
How wrong he was.
Twisting his body in a wide-legged stance made the motion of pulling the tapered spear from flesh bring it straight into a ready position under the arm, the only difference being that the angle of this attack approached Numidar's stance square-on rather than the ideal stance of leading with the slim profile of the side. Not that it made a difference with the added reach of the spear. As if launched by a coiled spring, the spear stabbed into flesh, transfixing the thug's leg while being twisted to enlarge the wound and hold the foe at range beyond the reach of that club, while Osaw ended him with one deadly sword-stroke to the neck.
Thetta simply ran in with spear braced, embedding her weapon into the warmth of a ribcage. The owner of said rib-cage died on Raven's Beak. Wolf's Fang was equally deadly, cutting high to demand a parry which was answered by a second cut across onto a shieldless arm.
Finally, Brightbiter set into grim work, first the Shining One leaping in to deliver a vast overhand stroke which aimed for the head. A heavy cudgel was raised to intercept it, yet the Shining One saw it coming and adjusted the angle of his hack to crash down upon the elbow, sundering bone as flesh was cloven. As the ruined arm lowered, Brightbiter was immediately sent into a horizontal slash which severed the head in true dramatic fashion. Two smooth steps brought the righteous knight to his next foe, approaching with his blade held in half-sword with the guard levelled at the waist. The thug saw this as an opening and swung for the head with his cudgel, to which one gauntlet detatched from the sword and swatted the blow aside, in the same moment as Brightbiter cannoned forth in a fast stab aimed for the heart. The second hand returned to the pommel to reinforce the killing thrust as it landed.
That finished, Osaw was to cover the staircase behind the others, ensuring the route of escape was closed for any who somehow passed the others, and providing them with an early warning of any reinforcements to enter later. Watching Julen backing away, sword lowered and unbloodied, told Aorle as much of the situation as the scream had. The wretch had a hostage.
In an instant, the path was clear. Cleaning off his longsword, Aorle lay Brightbiter down gently upon the floor, then his dagger beside it. Disarmed, he raised an open gauntlet as the signal for his armsmen to halt.
"We are here to bring the ladies to safety. Thus, you will not be allowed to leave with her. I will take her place." announced Aorle, as if the thug had no choice in matter.
On that note, he turned his back to the thug and approached, hands on his head and walking backwards slowly, seeming to truly offer himself as a hostage. If the grunt slashed his throat, the Shining One could heal himself. Better him than an innocent woman.
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
Re: Counterstrike
When Aorle suggested substituting himself for the hostage already held by the thug, Julen’s first instinct was to shout a protest. He didn’t like the idea of his friend endangering himself like that. But despite the words threatening to explode inside his throat, Julen managed to remain silent. Any objection might be seen as another attempt to override Aorle’s orders. And besides, Aorle did stand a much better chance against the brute than a skinny woman wearing very little at all. Keeping his sword low, Julen continued to give his opponent space, while his eyes watched for some mistake that might give him an opening.
At first, the thug resisted the idea of a trade. Clearly, even with a knife pointed at his jugular, the imposing young warrior would be more difficult to intimidate than the terrified whore. That could cause problems. But then the thug’s eyes strayed to Aorle’s armor, which was undoubtedly the finest he’d ever seen, and greed triumphed over caution. If he dragged the whore into some back alley before slitting her throat, what would it gain him? A few pieces of cheap jewelry. But if he taught this young whelp the price of foolish gallantry, then that armor would sell for enough bishani to fund his retirement. Besides, the thug reasoned, surely this man’s followers would be more likely to back off if they thought their leader was in danger.
“Alright,” the thug snarled.
Once Aorle had gotten close enough, the switch happened fast. Julen tried to take advantage of the moment when the knife wasn’t actually pointed at either throat, but the thug hurled his former hostage at Julen with such ferocity that Julen was forced to abort his attack for fear of accidentally striking her. Trembling and sobbing, the young woman collided with Julen, before sinking to the ground at his feet.
Roughly, the thug grabbed Aorle with his left hand, attempting to use him in the same shield-like manner that he’d used the young woman, while his right hand moved the blade toward Aorle’s neck.
At first, the thug resisted the idea of a trade. Clearly, even with a knife pointed at his jugular, the imposing young warrior would be more difficult to intimidate than the terrified whore. That could cause problems. But then the thug’s eyes strayed to Aorle’s armor, which was undoubtedly the finest he’d ever seen, and greed triumphed over caution. If he dragged the whore into some back alley before slitting her throat, what would it gain him? A few pieces of cheap jewelry. But if he taught this young whelp the price of foolish gallantry, then that armor would sell for enough bishani to fund his retirement. Besides, the thug reasoned, surely this man’s followers would be more likely to back off if they thought their leader was in danger.
“Alright,” the thug snarled.
Once Aorle had gotten close enough, the switch happened fast. Julen tried to take advantage of the moment when the knife wasn’t actually pointed at either throat, but the thug hurled his former hostage at Julen with such ferocity that Julen was forced to abort his attack for fear of accidentally striking her. Trembling and sobbing, the young woman collided with Julen, before sinking to the ground at his feet.
Roughly, the thug grabbed Aorle with his left hand, attempting to use him in the same shield-like manner that he’d used the young woman, while his right hand moved the blade toward Aorle’s neck.
Shim -- where the men are men, and the livestock are scared.
-
Sir Karsimir
- Citizen
- Posts: 714
- Joined: Wed Jan 10, 2007 8:12 pm
- Name: Karsimir Von Greyssen
- Race: Reichvolk human
Re: Counterstrike
Hands on head, not above.
An important distinction. As the switch took place, Aorle slid his right hand down his hair to behind his own neck, covering the area with his steel gauntlet, and tucking in his elbow to block access to his armpit. With an armoured wrist closing off access to the side of his neck, the thug was forced to reach around Aorle's forearm to gain access to the throat.
Big mistake.
Rather than resist the rough grab pulling him in, the Shining One participated eagerly, stepping in on his right leg to turn his body side-on. Pushing out with a forearm on the knife hand, the knight rammed an armoured shoulder into the thug's chest to weaken his balance. Next, a left gauntlet clutched at the knife-arm on the inside of the elbow, turning the weapon-hand wide, while the right forearm slammed across into the bicep of the arm the thug used to grapple. Digging a thumb into the armpit for no greater purpose than to cause pain, Aorle curled his fingers around the deltoid region to grasp both arm and shoulder.
While the thug recovered and pushed forward, all this led to was a contest of strength with an armoured man who was both larger than him and had the advantage of leverage.
Taking a long step back on his left foot during the grapple, the Shining One forced the thug to lurch forward and off-balance. Dropping to his left knee, he pulled down with his left arm and pushed up with his right as he heaved to the side, twisted his hips for extra power in an effort to throw the thug to the side and to the ground while maintaining hold of both arms.
Against the proper application of strength, the thug managed to resist by planting one leg directly beneath him. Even so, this led to him to lean his weight and body over that one leg, a fact that was taken full advantage of.
Shifting position forward, Aorle managed to fit his shoulder and hips directly under the thug's leaning body and straightened suddenly, powering upwards with his waist and legs as well as arm strength, flinging the hapless bruiser up into the air at roughly head height. By yanking down on both arms while deliberately falling to the floor, and keeping the grip tight, Aorle caused the upper body of the thug to plunge downwards with the force of their combined body weight and strength, the brute's legs trailing behind him like the tail of a comet.
Impact struck most on the shoulder, and the grunt's head cracked against the floor. From here, common belief was that no knight would ever strike at a downed foe. Common belief was proved wrong, for the Shining One seemed not the least shy on the subject of hammering a metal-sheathed fist into the thug's face or in bringing his foot down heavily on the neck. A snapping sound announced the end of that fight.
Calmly collecting his shed weapons, Aorle turned towards the starved young woman. "M'lady. Are you hurt?" he asked kindly, seemingly unaware of the weeping red cut across his cheekbone where the knife was drawn back.
Then to the rest, "Free the others." he commanded.
An important distinction. As the switch took place, Aorle slid his right hand down his hair to behind his own neck, covering the area with his steel gauntlet, and tucking in his elbow to block access to his armpit. With an armoured wrist closing off access to the side of his neck, the thug was forced to reach around Aorle's forearm to gain access to the throat.
Big mistake.
Rather than resist the rough grab pulling him in, the Shining One participated eagerly, stepping in on his right leg to turn his body side-on. Pushing out with a forearm on the knife hand, the knight rammed an armoured shoulder into the thug's chest to weaken his balance. Next, a left gauntlet clutched at the knife-arm on the inside of the elbow, turning the weapon-hand wide, while the right forearm slammed across into the bicep of the arm the thug used to grapple. Digging a thumb into the armpit for no greater purpose than to cause pain, Aorle curled his fingers around the deltoid region to grasp both arm and shoulder.
While the thug recovered and pushed forward, all this led to was a contest of strength with an armoured man who was both larger than him and had the advantage of leverage.
Taking a long step back on his left foot during the grapple, the Shining One forced the thug to lurch forward and off-balance. Dropping to his left knee, he pulled down with his left arm and pushed up with his right as he heaved to the side, twisted his hips for extra power in an effort to throw the thug to the side and to the ground while maintaining hold of both arms.
Against the proper application of strength, the thug managed to resist by planting one leg directly beneath him. Even so, this led to him to lean his weight and body over that one leg, a fact that was taken full advantage of.
Shifting position forward, Aorle managed to fit his shoulder and hips directly under the thug's leaning body and straightened suddenly, powering upwards with his waist and legs as well as arm strength, flinging the hapless bruiser up into the air at roughly head height. By yanking down on both arms while deliberately falling to the floor, and keeping the grip tight, Aorle caused the upper body of the thug to plunge downwards with the force of their combined body weight and strength, the brute's legs trailing behind him like the tail of a comet.
Impact struck most on the shoulder, and the grunt's head cracked against the floor. From here, common belief was that no knight would ever strike at a downed foe. Common belief was proved wrong, for the Shining One seemed not the least shy on the subject of hammering a metal-sheathed fist into the thug's face or in bringing his foot down heavily on the neck. A snapping sound announced the end of that fight.
Calmly collecting his shed weapons, Aorle turned towards the starved young woman. "M'lady. Are you hurt?" he asked kindly, seemingly unaware of the weeping red cut across his cheekbone where the knife was drawn back.
Then to the rest, "Free the others." he commanded.
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
Re: Counterstrike
As Aorle addressed her, the former hostage looked up at him, tears still running down her cheeks. “You...he could have...you risked your life...to help me?” Then, before anyone could react, she threw herself at the Sword of Heaven, wrapping her arms around one of his legs. “Please, sir! Please take me with you. I’ll serve you in whatever manner you wish. Just don’t leave me here!”
At any other time, Julen would have been greatly amused by the sight of a young lady clinging to his friend. But the horror of this place smothered his mirth. Moved to pity by the woman’s obvious desperation, Julen gently disentangled her from Aorle, and pulled her to her feet. “No one is going to be left here,” he assured. “You’re all free.”
“Free?” The woman said it as if she’d forgotten what freedom meant.
“Free,” Julen assured. But the woman just stared at him. Hoping that being given a task might distract her mind from its recent ordeal, Julen made a request. “However, I would like you to help me. What’s your name?”
“Tulip, sir.”
“Alright, Tulip, this is what I need. I want to gather the others. Unfortunately, I don’t know how many there are. If any of them got scared, if they hid from me, they might get left behind. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
“No, sir.”
“Then will you come with me? Tell them that they don’t need to be afraid? And make sure we don’t miss anyone?”
“Yes, sir. This way.”
Before following Tulip down the hall, Julen flashed a smile at Aorle. “Nice move with that bastard.” Julen nodded at the dead thug. “You’ll have to show it to me sometime.” Then, he hurried after his guide.
As Tulip led him from room to room, calling the names of her fellow prisoners, Julen watched women crawl from under beds and peek out of closets. One gnomish lady even squirmed free from the dresser drawer where she’d hidden herself. All of them had heard the commotion downstairs and feared the worst -- although Julen wondered what could possibly be worse than their current situation. After speaking a few kind words to each one, Julen sent them downstairs to await further instructions from Aorle.
When Julen and Tulip finally reached the last room, it became apparent that Tulip felt reluctant to proceed. But she pushed the door open anyway. And, as the foul air wafted out, smelling like a mixture of urine, sweat, and blood, Julen couldn’t blame her for hesitating. Bile rose in the back of his throat and he struggled not to gag.
“There’s one more in there,” Tulip informed. “Her name’s Cherie, but I don’t know her as well as the others, ‘cause she’s not normally here. She did something to upset Mister Snyde and he worked her over real good.” Tulip glanced at the ground, before forcing her eyes back up to meet Julen’s. “Could I just wait here, sir?”
“Go downstairs and join the others. Tell Aorle I’ll be there in a minute.”
Julen was still haunted by his memory of Kaydee chained to the wall, and he honestly wasn’t sure he could face seeing another woman who’d been harmed that badly. But he didn’t have a choice. Taking a deep breath -- which the stinking air immediately made him regret -- Julen stepped inside. The room contained a single bed. And on the bed lay a naked and bruised woman, graced with no jewelry other than an iron collar which connected her to the headboard via a short chain. Judging by the stains on the sheets beneath her, she’d been there for several days.
“Cherie?” Julen ventured. But she didn’t stir. Staring down at the battered woman, Julen remembered the angel he’d seen the previous morning. He didn’t understand how the world could hold such beauty and such horror. He didn’t know how a single man could be strong enough to contain visions of both without being torn apart by them.
But that was his own struggle. And fighting it wasn’t helping Cherie. Drawing his sword, Julen hacked wood away from the place where the collar’s chain attached to the headboard, until it finally came loose. Then, unwilling to leave Cherie lying in her own filth, Julen scooped her into his arms and hurried off in search of Aorle.
At any other time, Julen would have been greatly amused by the sight of a young lady clinging to his friend. But the horror of this place smothered his mirth. Moved to pity by the woman’s obvious desperation, Julen gently disentangled her from Aorle, and pulled her to her feet. “No one is going to be left here,” he assured. “You’re all free.”
“Free?” The woman said it as if she’d forgotten what freedom meant.
“Free,” Julen assured. But the woman just stared at him. Hoping that being given a task might distract her mind from its recent ordeal, Julen made a request. “However, I would like you to help me. What’s your name?”
“Tulip, sir.”
“Alright, Tulip, this is what I need. I want to gather the others. Unfortunately, I don’t know how many there are. If any of them got scared, if they hid from me, they might get left behind. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
“No, sir.”
“Then will you come with me? Tell them that they don’t need to be afraid? And make sure we don’t miss anyone?”
“Yes, sir. This way.”
Before following Tulip down the hall, Julen flashed a smile at Aorle. “Nice move with that bastard.” Julen nodded at the dead thug. “You’ll have to show it to me sometime.” Then, he hurried after his guide.
As Tulip led him from room to room, calling the names of her fellow prisoners, Julen watched women crawl from under beds and peek out of closets. One gnomish lady even squirmed free from the dresser drawer where she’d hidden herself. All of them had heard the commotion downstairs and feared the worst -- although Julen wondered what could possibly be worse than their current situation. After speaking a few kind words to each one, Julen sent them downstairs to await further instructions from Aorle.
When Julen and Tulip finally reached the last room, it became apparent that Tulip felt reluctant to proceed. But she pushed the door open anyway. And, as the foul air wafted out, smelling like a mixture of urine, sweat, and blood, Julen couldn’t blame her for hesitating. Bile rose in the back of his throat and he struggled not to gag.
“There’s one more in there,” Tulip informed. “Her name’s Cherie, but I don’t know her as well as the others, ‘cause she’s not normally here. She did something to upset Mister Snyde and he worked her over real good.” Tulip glanced at the ground, before forcing her eyes back up to meet Julen’s. “Could I just wait here, sir?”
“Go downstairs and join the others. Tell Aorle I’ll be there in a minute.”
Julen was still haunted by his memory of Kaydee chained to the wall, and he honestly wasn’t sure he could face seeing another woman who’d been harmed that badly. But he didn’t have a choice. Taking a deep breath -- which the stinking air immediately made him regret -- Julen stepped inside. The room contained a single bed. And on the bed lay a naked and bruised woman, graced with no jewelry other than an iron collar which connected her to the headboard via a short chain. Judging by the stains on the sheets beneath her, she’d been there for several days.
“Cherie?” Julen ventured. But she didn’t stir. Staring down at the battered woman, Julen remembered the angel he’d seen the previous morning. He didn’t understand how the world could hold such beauty and such horror. He didn’t know how a single man could be strong enough to contain visions of both without being torn apart by them.
But that was his own struggle. And fighting it wasn’t helping Cherie. Drawing his sword, Julen hacked wood away from the place where the collar’s chain attached to the headboard, until it finally came loose. Then, unwilling to leave Cherie lying in her own filth, Julen scooped her into his arms and hurried off in search of Aorle.
Shim -- where the men are men, and the livestock are scared.
-
Sir Karsimir
- Citizen
- Posts: 714
- Joined: Wed Jan 10, 2007 8:12 pm
- Name: Karsimir Von Greyssen
- Race: Reichvolk human
Re: Counterstrike
Finding Aorle was easy. As he was at the top of the staircase, having casually flung down the body of his latest foe once done searching the body. The pile of items taken included the knife, pouch and clothes, for one of the ladies to wear rather than have to walk outside in next to nothing. Orders had been given out, and tasks were delegated. Most of the ladies were tasked with raiding the place for food or drink, since the place did serve drinks, and they needed all the nourishment they could get. As for the Lightswords, they discouraged interruption by heaping ransacked bodies and spare tables on the inside of the doors.
Seeing Cherie, Aorle instantly gave out a command to Tulip who had been milling near him. "Get water. Clean her off and dress her." After all, best she not wake up naked surrounded by strangers.
Taking Cherie carefully out of Julen's hands, the Shining One lowered her safely to the floor, half-whispering to the woman who could not hear him. "Why did you come back, Cherie? I told you where you would be safe." Apparently he knew of further tragedy in this situation than the brutally obvious.
Before long the others were back upstairs, as even the malnourished former captives were not too eager to eat in front of the corpses of the brutally slain. True, the deaths were just and the dead men hated as tormentors, but it was a rare soul who could gaze at a headless corpse and remain unmoved. Cherie was barely a better sight, although there was something to be done for that.
Not wishing to overly handle an unclad and vulnerable woman, Aorle stepped back while the others wiped off the mess and fitted her into the baggy clothes. From the state she was in, blood and filth together, he had grave fears of an infection. By the pale heat from her forehead and clammy skin, those fears were well-justified.
All simple notes, observations from a man who made them his habit. None of them changed what was to be done.
"Everyone." Aorle began calmly, his voice rigidly controlled to steel himself against surrender to emotion. "Know this. All here will witness a miracle. The miracle is tolerated by the city. No danger will come to you through association with me."
With that matter out the way with...
The Keys of Heaven.
And keys they were, for the experience was like unlocking a door inside him, which swung open to unleash an inner warmth which gathered in his heart and lingered around his shoulders. Calling forth that inner fire, gathering it, summoning it, he clasped his palms and knelt as if in prayer, letting the warmth build where his hands joined together. Mortal eyes gave way to molten orbs of radiant gold without feature, if eyes were the windows to the soul then these showed nothing less than the hand of Heaven in mortal form.
Laying one hand on her forehead and the other upon the center of the chest over her heart, Aorle Kar poured life into her and shared the warmth of his inner fire. The experience was like a waterfall rushing down his arms, fresh vigour flowing into her with a heat as deep as that from an open forge. Yet no pain, never pain, only a pure and cleansing warmth soothing in it's intensity.
Gradually materialising above the knight's head was a ring of gold like a floating circlet, mirroring the luminous shade of his eyes. Shadows began to melt away from his armoured body, and Cherie's own skin began to take on the dappled quality of a sheet of paper held up between the eye and a strong light. A faint gold shimmer marked the touch of his hands.
As the torrent of health flowed into her, the mere absence of those small shadows nestled in place over the human body began to extend into a pallid soft radiance, most clear around the shoulder-blades. Ever so slowly, that grew. The impression of dappled light on Cherie's skin grew clearer now, and began to faintly move and shift.
Slowly, the luminous emanation from his back grew bright and strong, and took form. Twin fields of impenetrable white, which now emerged openly and then spread out like pinions. Spectral wings of consecrated light, which spread into a space occupied by furniture and passed through unhindered. Those wings wrapped around Cherie as if to comfort and shelter.
Once they did, the newfound healthy glow from her skin proved to be just that, a glow, touched with the shining gold of the paladin's eyes and the floating nimbus above his head.
Finally done, he withdrew his hands and rose to his feet, stepping away as he did so. Light faded, and once gone it was revealed to have chased away the bruises as it had drove off the shadows. Only the bruises did not return in light's absence.
"Make sure she gets fed." Aorle instructed the civilians, "Not all the harm will be undone."
Seeing Cherie, Aorle instantly gave out a command to Tulip who had been milling near him. "Get water. Clean her off and dress her." After all, best she not wake up naked surrounded by strangers.
Taking Cherie carefully out of Julen's hands, the Shining One lowered her safely to the floor, half-whispering to the woman who could not hear him. "Why did you come back, Cherie? I told you where you would be safe." Apparently he knew of further tragedy in this situation than the brutally obvious.
Before long the others were back upstairs, as even the malnourished former captives were not too eager to eat in front of the corpses of the brutally slain. True, the deaths were just and the dead men hated as tormentors, but it was a rare soul who could gaze at a headless corpse and remain unmoved. Cherie was barely a better sight, although there was something to be done for that.
Not wishing to overly handle an unclad and vulnerable woman, Aorle stepped back while the others wiped off the mess and fitted her into the baggy clothes. From the state she was in, blood and filth together, he had grave fears of an infection. By the pale heat from her forehead and clammy skin, those fears were well-justified.
All simple notes, observations from a man who made them his habit. None of them changed what was to be done.
"Everyone." Aorle began calmly, his voice rigidly controlled to steel himself against surrender to emotion. "Know this. All here will witness a miracle. The miracle is tolerated by the city. No danger will come to you through association with me."
With that matter out the way with...
The Keys of Heaven.
And keys they were, for the experience was like unlocking a door inside him, which swung open to unleash an inner warmth which gathered in his heart and lingered around his shoulders. Calling forth that inner fire, gathering it, summoning it, he clasped his palms and knelt as if in prayer, letting the warmth build where his hands joined together. Mortal eyes gave way to molten orbs of radiant gold without feature, if eyes were the windows to the soul then these showed nothing less than the hand of Heaven in mortal form.
Laying one hand on her forehead and the other upon the center of the chest over her heart, Aorle Kar poured life into her and shared the warmth of his inner fire. The experience was like a waterfall rushing down his arms, fresh vigour flowing into her with a heat as deep as that from an open forge. Yet no pain, never pain, only a pure and cleansing warmth soothing in it's intensity.
Gradually materialising above the knight's head was a ring of gold like a floating circlet, mirroring the luminous shade of his eyes. Shadows began to melt away from his armoured body, and Cherie's own skin began to take on the dappled quality of a sheet of paper held up between the eye and a strong light. A faint gold shimmer marked the touch of his hands.
As the torrent of health flowed into her, the mere absence of those small shadows nestled in place over the human body began to extend into a pallid soft radiance, most clear around the shoulder-blades. Ever so slowly, that grew. The impression of dappled light on Cherie's skin grew clearer now, and began to faintly move and shift.
Slowly, the luminous emanation from his back grew bright and strong, and took form. Twin fields of impenetrable white, which now emerged openly and then spread out like pinions. Spectral wings of consecrated light, which spread into a space occupied by furniture and passed through unhindered. Those wings wrapped around Cherie as if to comfort and shelter.
Once they did, the newfound healthy glow from her skin proved to be just that, a glow, touched with the shining gold of the paladin's eyes and the floating nimbus above his head.
Finally done, he withdrew his hands and rose to his feet, stepping away as he did so. Light faded, and once gone it was revealed to have chased away the bruises as it had drove off the shadows. Only the bruises did not return in light's absence.
"Make sure she gets fed." Aorle instructed the civilians, "Not all the harm will be undone."
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.