Closed Nahualli, Slayers of Vokhai

[Khafra]

Fall 3rd, 124
Khafra owed a great deal to the Dwarves; when he had been borne to the earth, they took him in and raised him as a valued weapon. When his mind was closed, they aided him with opening it to cameraderie and purpose. For that, he owed them a great debt.

Soaring between the caverns with Nurael in tow, he found his way back to the Dwarven Hold he called home. To his relief, the garrison mustered at his arrival, leering eyes peeking through solid stone towers dimmed to the possibility of all but the greatest of Apparators drifting through their walls.

Meeting with His Terriatzi, Tlaltecuhtni Tehnoc - the Stone-Lord of the Dwarven Hold of Popocoacan - Khafra passed by the drifting spirits of Nagual glimmering upon the stone temple at the center of the city, and met with the man who taught him everything he knew about killing Vokhai.

From Tehnoc, Khafra received word of a Vokhai horde which had been harassing the Deeproads naught but twenty miles. He was to take another Mercenary Nahualli - a sorcerer - with him, but they had already left; catching up with them seemed prudent.

. . .

Leaping across the great ravine of Teocali's Fall, Khafra lept across the largest cavern and Soared across its bound, holding onto his Familiar as he descended towards a set of people, to whom he began to read over with his senses. "Hail! His Terriatzi sends aid for the coming hunt!" Khafra called from afar in the Common tongue.

Next to him was Nurael, Khafra's large, man-sized familiar, a cat-like dog thing with ethereal blue fur and piercing, blue eyes. His own unkempt blonde hair barely moved with the passing air- though he kept a lick of conflict in his fingers, squeezing with weariness at the unfamiliar faces while he leaned back to put his feet out and catch the stone into a shaky crouch, his Familiar standing behind him with a pull of Metaphor hot on its tongue.

"Khafra, am I. Are you the mercenaries Tlaltecuhtni Tehnoc has contracted for slaying the Vokhai laying in ambush not far from here?" he asked.

357

 

[Mercy]

Harrowing sounds echoed about within the confides of the Caves. Mercy black-clad in tosei-gusoku strode forth into it's ever-mysterious depths. Wraith trailed mere steps behind her Familiarist; whilst he observed the surrounding environment. Gossamer thin strands of her onyx colored hair fluttered about in the dim-breeze. Her lean frame and short stature surrounded by a shadow in perpetual motion. The pair walked in silence as they hardly felt the need to speak aloud. The predatory nature of the contract they had been assigned required some form of stealth. Far ahead of the other mercenaries as they preferred to work in tandem.

The short-lived pitter-patter of geta came to a sudden halt. A strange sensation crept across the Aquaris' nape. Which caused the tiniest of hairs to stand erect as he heard wraiths soft spoken voice vibrate across his cranial structure. "Behind this wall." Wraith telepathically muttered in a ghastly-callous tone. She raised her right arm, and outstretched the digits of her hand whilst she pressed into the cold-stone. Her left hand stretched toward Mercy, interlocking digits with him.

Just as they were about to enter approached a blonde male, and his strange-looking familiar. Mercy had never laid eyes on something so grotesque, and simultaneously beautiful. He heard the young mans voice beckon the pair with a question whils. "Indeed we are. My name is Mercy; tis' a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Spoke the Jianese warrior. "We will draw their attention. Follow us…" spoke Wraith as a subtle buzzing-sound exited her body. The two began the short-lived process of resonating with one, another and embraced in an almost loving manner.

Together, the pair began to take on a translucent, gelatinous appearance within a mere second. The next they began to slowly convert into a liquid, and the final second they were a mass of water vapor. An uncomfortable sensation that could only be described as "almost painful" disturbed the pair of warriors. As they squeezed through the hard surface of the caves wall. On the other side was a massive horde of Vokhai in various shapes, and sizes.

The Familiarist waited for a mere ten seconds; before chaos began to erupt on the other side of the wall. The pair positioned the cloud of mist approximately six feet above the center of the horde. "Order" a ghastly voice exited from the mist feminine in a murderous tone. As the two solidified, and their frequency returned to normal they began to descend upon the horde. The pair simultaneously placed palms atop the pommels of their Katana. With a swift, synchronized motion the blades had been freed from the imprisonment of their scabbards.

What were once near silent caves filled with chest-rattling screams from the beasts. The pair unleashed a fury hardly witnessed by the savages themselves. Just as quickly as the blades had been drawn, the cranial structure of two lesser-gnoll tumbled across the cave floor sputtering aqua-de-vitae from still standing corpses before they too, fell. The sound of metal-plated geta echoed loud enough to be heard from the other side as the pair landed.

 

[Khafra]

Khafra kept crouch as the pair seemed to hurry on, no need for strategy or a sharing of their strengths. Whilst he could sense strong Metaphor in the pair, in Aether and Imber, there were other confusing motes that left him confounded.

They both wore such strange garb, and their accents; he had never heard these accents before- oh no. One time, in a market within Arcanis… briefly.

Jianese?

"Very well," said Khafra, sneaking in a word before they began to Apparate away. He and Nurael looked to each other with confusion, and then to the cavern wall. "Well, Nurael. What do you propose?"

"We break it in," Nurael said, ears perking. "It's not that deep of a wall. I can hear… them fighting." His head tilted, a wince. He slowly turned to look at Khafra, who's lips creased. "There's a whole horde of Vokhai behind that wall," the Familiar said with worry.

"We Cant for Geomena, and then push the stone outward into a wave," said Khafra. His Familiar nodded, and they both turned to the wall.

"In the halls of Ur'Duun, I bid the Geomena of these Caverns to move," spoke Khafra and Nurael in unison. Each of them biting into their hand and paw, they turned and stepped forward in a wide swing, Canting six orders of Sovereignty: Thought, Speech, Gesture, Sacrifice, Environ, and Plane. "By Ukhu, I command it!"

. . .

Beyond the wall was an encampment of Vokhai. Many had their backs turned, their yurts and bedrolls strewn about. A thousand in their number, perhaps, a middling warband with a host of Shaman to its name.

But that didn't matter as Mercy and Wraith began cutting them down, forcing their ranks into shock.

Their commander emerged a few acres beyond the upper lip of the stalactite-laden promenade the pair of Apparators were savaging. A Gnoll matron snapped the rag of her yurt aside and ducked out into the open air before pointing at the pair.

Her voice roared, a billowing echo that gathered the attention of every Vokhai. "Bildet Reihen, ihr schwachen Scheißhaufen!"

Slithering Najda began approaching, hissing their Cants and dancing upon their tails. They flung rocks the size of small bears well above the heads of rivers and throngs of Orks, Goblins, Gnoll, and Trow.

Bolts and rocks began plinking and slinging from crossbows and slings, pixellating the air with their oncoming volley.

-Then the ground quaked.

Kkkrrkrkkkkbbbggghhuuuoooaoaaagahhhh.

A thunderous rancour rang out behind Mercy, and the wall burst outward and shot forth like a wave of stone, roiling over him like a tsunami and flinging out into the sea of projectiles in a deafening cataclysm of tumbling boulders hurtling past and crushing the Vokhai, knocking away the spells of the Najda, and leaving the Warlord tugging at her ears.

She slung the pair of blades from her back, and it began to glow hot with dripping lava, and she joined the fray with bounding leaps over the still tumbling avalanche of rocks, her harsh blades clanging and swiping at every Tendril in the thick layer of dust as hundreds of Vokhai lay dead or crushed, and the stronger among them were clawing to push out from beneath with broken bones and maimed limbs.

Now their ranks were in disarray, and the Warlord's long blades were flinging hot specks of magma with every strike to Tendril, fending in ways that threatened to cut and cleave them apart- but she was no match for two, and she was forced to reposition back down the slope of rock as the fighting wore on, her frenzied face twisted and frothing.

603

 

[Mercy]

Back-to-back Wraith, and Mercy stood pressed against one another in the fray of blades. The horde had been so large that the pair could have never predicted the situation they were currently in. Surrounded in every direction for what seemed like an endless amount of Vokhai. The Jianese Warriors were unphased despite being heavily outnumbered, and physically outmatched. There was no strategy with these two; there was only pure brutality. The ranks of the vast horde had gone into a frenzy, as they panicked to gather their resources. Wraith noticed one peculiar voice amidst the clash of weapons echo through the distance. She almost immediately pin-pointed the target who obviously bore command of the horde.

Suddenly a volley of projectiles darkened the vast space above, and behind them in the cavern. The pair did not hesitate to charge forward; whilst they attempted to stabilize themselves as the earth shook beneath them. Mercy suffused his thoughts as projectile, boulder, and rock alike descended upon the pair from behind. They narrowly evaded the large-scale attack unleashed by their own allies. Hundreds of corpses lined the ground, some crushed by the boulders; aqua de vitae coated the cave walls and pooled on the ground. Wraith remained calm so long as she fought side by side with her Familiarist.

Mercy began to speak, as he primed the environment coaxing out moisture from the air. "My blade shall tear asunder and eviscerate all of those who stand before me. Should I face defeat I beg of you.. Show me no mercy! Grant me your blessing!" Wraith followed suit, and began to compress aether within the confides of her maw. Two large puddles formed beneath the feet of the pair, which began to swirl and form into two circular shapes in front of their lips. Mercys' emotions dampened, and he entered a state of internal peace during the heat of battle. As the duo charged forward they spat a hail of pressurized water in small amounts toward the Vokhai.

In the blink of an eye, approximately fifty Orcs were turned into pincushions. Several corpses were added to the collection with holes riddling their bodies, and iron armor. The pair chose to deal with the first of many incoming Najda in the same fashion opting not to burn their reserves of Aether. As several members of the hoarde within a 25 foot radius of both Aquari approached; their movements, and positions could almost be predicted. Which allowed them to quickly be cut down by the prowess of the swordsmen. The two could feel the powerful presence of the "Warlord" swiftly enter, and then exit the radius of their abyssal pulse. They watched as magma dripped from the iridescent blades as he escaped their grasp.

"Kill the Shephard, and scatter the sheep" Said Wraith amidst the fray

 

[Khafra]

Kill.

No, subdue. Their Warlord would be a priceless sacrifice to the Dwarven Vemana.

From a billowing cloud of dust, the shadows of Nurael and Khafra broke out into the quartz-given light, pastel-blue smears in the air above the battle. The pair observed the chaos, taking advantage of the confusion to gather and assess the situation.

"The Warlord is there," Nurael warned, pining on Khafra's will with the urge of a spell.

"Bound her."

"From stone to metal, Ukhu's gift binds thee!" spoke they in unison.

Heaps and lumps of metals from the slaughtered gore of Vokhai and flung them at the gnoll warlord, crashing against her back as she was busy with Mercy's onslaught. Slatting to her limbs, they pulled her back.

"NIEN!" the Gnoll screamed in rage, and she began to glow, heating at the metal as her body began to brim with the flame of Fulgury.

Together, the pair congealed the metal over her body, encapsulating her into a sphere of lumpy steel, iron, and so on until there was so much that she was left fully encapsulated into a metal ball, which began to roll like a boulder down the avalanche before crashing into one of the yurts.

Dropping their Soar with a puff of wind before the each hit the ground, Khafra and Nurael both gestured for the Najda shamans, whom had already burnt through their Metaphor and were bleeding from their eyes as they shot forth jagged stone spikes.

"Crash!"

Stone cracked to stone, and Khafra threw his weight with Nurael to scrounge another volley.

"Impale!"

Left to right, the Najda fell as spires of stone were driven into their chest, skewering them like sticks of sputtering newt. Still more Najda were slain by Mercy and his Familiar, their whips and blades slapping down the Naginata they thrust into the fray, hissing as their bodies stiffened to death and they tumbled back down into a bloody heap.

By now the ranks of the Vokhai had begun to break. Fear-filled gazes glanced at the four magi before turning away and running for their lives. Khafra did not bother with their ilk, the hundreds of goblins flowing past Orks, Trow, and Gnoll which stood tall and gathered to hold the line... but they too began to turn and run with a sneer.

"NIEN ENTEHREN!" cursed an Ork before committing that same offense by running. Victory by Arcana was a grave and unforgivable offense to their kind.

The mage and his Familiar stepped to the side, taking shots of stone into the dusty furor at shadows running through the choking dust. By now Khafra was beginning to wear, and his Familiar's movements were slowing with a panting exhaustion as they backed into a corner and let the other mercenaries handle all else. Not from Mageburn, but the exertion of yelling their Cants, and the biting choke of the poor air.

489

 

[Mercy]

Wave after wave Vokhai fell; like tides crashing upon the shores. Mercys' blood-soaked gusoku fluttered about in the fray. Crimson stained getamashi practically stuck to the bottoms of his bare heels. The Warlord had been captured and subdued rather quickly. Which caused much of the horde to scatter and as they fled for their lives Wraith spoke aloud. "That one isn't running... He's coming for us" whilst she pointed out what appeared to be a Shaman of sorts. An imposing figure for a mere Orc, he stood approximately seven feet tall. A sinister grin formed across the visage of Mercy the Jianese Warrior, and he took a moment of pause.

His right foot raised from the ground, to bring himself to a halt amid the charge. Mercy extended a digit toward the Orc. Suddenly the once soft-spoken male yelled at the top of his lungs. "You are mine! Let our duel of fate be one for the ages!" Wraith knew exactly what that meant. Mercy had issued the challenge of an "Honor Duel" wherein two combatants would fight one-on-one. She stepped aside and returned her Katana to the confidante of its imprisonment. Wraith raised her hand high above her short stature, as to signal all the other combatants to remain still.

"No one moves! Get out of the Masters way!" She spoke aloud in a ghastly tone as though two voices spoke at once through the same vessel.

Mercy followed suit and in tandem raised the Katana in his right hand toward the center of his mass. He slowly, but surely did close his eyes and he began to take a deep breath inhaling the iron-scented air. Whilst he positioned the kissaki above the koiguchi and inched the weapon backward until it fell in place. The palm of his left hand came to rest atop the Katanas kashira. He took up a stance just as foreign as it was unique with wide-spread legs that provided him with better balance. The male lowered his cranial structure, and his lengthy hair outstretched toward the ground. His right shoulder faced the opponent, and the battle began.

Using Abyssal pulse effectively he did not require eyesight for such a battle. However, a disturbance could be felt in the form of tremors beneath his feet. The Jianese Warrior charged forward into the Orc despite having closed eyes. In the very split second that he did a beast erupted from the ground. Eighty feet in length and ten feet tall, large boulders were flung as it pierced the cave floor's veil. Mercys' equilibrium had been thwarted by the gargantuan beasts' emergence.

Perhaps this was the result of some form of summoning. Animism had been a magic he'd never witnessed firsthand. Mercy had been standing atop a mass of rock flung into the air by the beast. Which stopped him in his tracks and brought him to a halt; one moment he was on the ground, and the next completely suspended in the air.

The sphere-shaped water mass had approximately three gallons in volume by this point. That certainly would not be enough to defeat the newfound adversary. Wind began to violently whip gossamer thin strands of his long hair fluttered about. He felt the temperature drop, as the blood soaked into the gusoku he wore clung to his flesh. Two massive tendrils erupted from the Warriors body. The first from his spinal-cord extended, and pushed down on the back of the boulder stabilizing him. The second extended from the male's sternum and brought an onslaught of attacks toward the rock-beast.

Hardly distracted by even the gargantuan Wurms' appearance and large-scale attack, he pressed forward. Mercy used the tendril which exited his sternum to coil around the beast and flung himself onto its massive body. The sound of his metal-plated getamashi echoed about the vicinity as he ran across its length and retracted the two tendrils into his form. His right hand remained in position on the pommel of the blade, until he reached a "gap" in the stony flesh of the Wurm. Mercy unsheathed his weapon in the blink of an eye, and an observer would only see one swift movement. The blade collided with the gap of the wurms "Joint" and water amounting to approximately ten gallons began to descend the body of the beast.

Just as suddenly as the water erupted from the Aquari it shifted forms. The liquid poured both over, and into the Wurms porus structure. Suddenly shifted and became solid-ice; which severed the "Spine" of the beast from within. The upper half of it's body began to sever, and fall from the weight of it's large cranial structure. As Mercy continued his descent down the spine of said beast. His quadriceps tightened, and he pushed as hard as he could to leap from its' body onto the one who controlled it.

Mercy made use of his slight knowledge of acrobatics and landed atop the large Orc. Which seemed unbothered by the additional weight of his slender frame atop its shoulders. Mercy very simply slashed through it's levator scapulae. Rendering the Animist completely, and totally immobile; albeit not dead.

" I won't even kill you now.. I'll savor that for the Dwarves." Mercy spoke in a callous tone. As Wraith began to cheer aloud for her masters victory she lowered her arm which signaled the end of the duel.

 

[Khafra]

From afar, Khafra and Nurael steadied themselves and kept alert. Inhaling, he suffused the air with Aeris and gave himself and his Familiar a breath of fresh air.

There was naught for enemies now, as many of the Vokhai had fled save for the one tall Shaman before Mercy, which Khafra had already eyed with weariness from across the cavern.

Together the Jin'Norai and his Familiar both turned and gave a running start, leaping forward and up the rocky mess of mangled and groaning bodies. Floating up with a Soar, the pair rejoined Mercy- or tried to, before Wraith stayed their hand.

Throwing up his hands, Khafra blinked and hung back as the silly idea of giving up an advantage in numbers and firepower was given over for a nebulous concept like honor. He understood it, but the Rakshasa had taught him, and punished him over such ideas as this- "Very well," he said; he and his Familiar shared a mutual look before they stared onward as spectators.

When the ground began to shake, Khafra stepped back to the more sturdier wall of the cavern, fearing a cave-in as the battle wore on. Rocks tumbled down from the ceiling, crashing as the wurm of stone erupted from its cradle beneath the earth and clashed with the Cor'Norai mongrel.

Khafra had fought such Wurms before, but this one was quite large- a good test to see how capable the man was. His lips pursed and he smiled with a nod as the Wurm was felled in short order, its mangled body falling in a great heap as the Orkish Animist stood little chance against the assault.

-It wasn't an easy thing jumping up onto and balancing upon one's shoulders like that, but if Mercy kept moving to balance himself it was certainly plausible given that the Wurm and Ork were both atop lower ground.

When the conflict was over, Khafra arrived as a breath of cool air between the troupe, pushing away the metallic fog of blood and bitter dust with his calm advance. "Well fought," he praised Mercy and Wraith. "We beseech the Ouroborotzi to collect the living now."

. . .

Later that Stones-eve.

The nearest garrison of dwarves wasn't far. A score of them had been bidden to gather the valuable injured for sacrifice whilst Khafra and Mercy were allowed to personally present their two most valuable prizes- the Warlord Grisbaal, and the Animist Haggoth.

Yielding their quarry to the Tlatoani, the Nahualli hirelings Khafra and Mercy were to be paid after the spirits had judged the value of their sacrifice. Coatl formed from the rocks around a garden of ritual stones in observance, hissing their low hum of appreciation.

Raising their bloodletting knives, Girsbaal and Haggoth were cut into, their hearts extracted and offered up to the air. Geomena swirled, rumbling down into the depths of the Mountainhalls with a soothing reverberation.

"O' to Xiuhtecuhtli, be warmed by this offering!" the Vemana proclaimed. The Aardenhall, the vast magma sea below sustained by ritual sacrifice.

. . .

Before the steps of the temple, Khafra stepped to Mercy. "We are due a period of rest; would you relax with me over a cup of dwarven tuberwine at the Opal and Jade?-" an inn Khafra often stayed at "-Or will you be departing onward on your journey?"

 

[Mercy]

After the short-lived, and rather disappointing duel, the ill-fated Shaman had been felled with but a single strike. Mercy, Khafra, Wraith, and his Familiar were off to collect the fruits of their labor. The Mongrel watched on as the ritualistic-sacrifice took place in a gory display. Wraith did not so much as bother to lock eyes with her Master; she preferred the use of telekinesis.

"Our job is done here, it is time for us to leave, Master."

Mercy heard the subtle words of her soft tone vibrate throughout his cranial structure. The swordsman listened to Khafra and acknowledged his offer. "Rest?" Though he may lack durability, Mercy would fight until he could no longer stand. Perhaps that was the pride of the Jianese coursing through his veins.

"I'd prefer to move on with my journey, there are more savages to slaughter." Said the Swordsman as his hitatare fluttered about in the subtle breeze.

His blood-soaked clothing did little to hinder his movement other than stick to his flesh. Wraith, too, was covered in aqua de vitae, dust, and debris from the cave. Though the pair were relentless, ruthless murderers, they preferred to maintain a robust appearance. They were far too dirty to venture into the public eye.

"I appreciate the offer though, if it is the will of Laevos; we shall cross paths again." With that statement, Mercy, and Wraith turned with their backs facing the mage, and his familiar. The sound of the metal plates beneath their Geta colliding with the ground echoed about the vicinity. The Mongrel raised his right hand and waved as he exited and headed deeper into the confines of the Cave.

 

[Vicissitude]

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Khafra's portion of the thread is Canon, the slaying of the Vokhai horde at the hands of Khafra & Mercy is Canon, but Mercy's combat segments cannot be Canonized.

In this case, it will be assumed that in the actual "Canon" of these events, Mercy used his Spells to such a point that he'd have either 0 Spell Reserves remaining -or- Light Mageburn if you'd prefer to assume your PC would've pushed himself. However, as the thread is written, Mercy would've died from the volume of Spell Reserves used & because you are new to our system, I don't believe that an outcome of that magnitude was the intended result.

For reference, here's the casting reqs of everything Mercy did in this thread:

: Mercy Spell Reserves

Mercy AND Wraith have two master casts worth of Aether to work with total, equivalent to 6 Expert, etc.

Further, it should be noted that using Aqua when there are no natural sources of water is designed to be Aetherically taxing. However, much of what Mercy did could've been accomplished by using the blood of the Vokhai who'd been killed/maimed in the initial rockfall (provided he hadn't used all of his SR from Apparation, but still).

Also, as a tip, when creating water, always create the maximum amount of water per cast for the sake of efficiency. For example, if you made 10 gallons of water, that is still a Master cast because it is above the 1.5gal limit of Expert despite not reaching the full 15gal limit of Master. Once you have that 15gal, it is free to continue to manipulate it within the confines of Hydromancy. A lot of Mercy's extra casts were due to him creating his water resource piecemeal rather than all at once.

The biggest thing, though, is that in many cases, I was unable to discern exactly what Mercy cast with any degree of clarity.

Master Apparation (Frequency) x 2 - Mercy + Wraith taking 3s (master) to shift from corporeal to incorporeal
?? Apparation (Frequency) x 2 - Mercy + Wraith shifting from incorporeal back to corporeal, timeframe not specified.
Master/Expert Aqua (Hydromancy) x 1 - Tier extremely hard to calculate; it sounds like Mercy made the entire cavern humid, but the size of the cavern is not specified. Considering there were 1,000 Vokhai in here, it must be a very large cavern, and to make it humid enough to use Abyssal Pulse you'd need 70%+ humidity. Spread through the whole thing, I would have to imagine that's at least an Expert cast of Hydromancy since he is creating water and suffusing it into the air to achieve this.
Expert Aqua (Hydromancy) x ?? - Difficult to say, as where I'm getting this from are the "large puddles of water" he made for him + his familiar which then turned to spheres to use to shoot water jets at the Vokhai. In a later post he specifies Mercy, specifically, has a 3-gallon sphere at the start of the Wurm fight, but I cannot be sure how much exactly he created at first -or- how much he used on the Vokhai prior.
Expert Aqua (Abyssal Pulse) x ?? - Abyssal Pulse when not submerged is at min Expert, and one cast is a singular sonar pulse; I don't know how far away his opponent was when he cast this, so I can't decide if Master vs Expert. I also am not entirely sure how many pulses were used total.
Master Aqua (Hydromancy) x 1 - "10 gallons of water descended upon the Wurm." The phrasing is confusing, as I am unsure if this is +7 gallons onto the aforementioned 3gal, or an additional 10, but either way, conjuring over 1.5gal is a Master cast.
Master Aqua (Aquamorphosis) x 1 - Shifting 10gal water from liquid to ice requires Master, as it is greater than the purview of an Expert spell.​

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