So, Mosic's dispel magic bit failed... Ch'dau almost dropped the puppet (and himself)... but, the cleric came through with that mace strike!

Little guy gave Ch'dau a second to regroup and prepare for the puppet's second blow and, with the luck of the dice, cat-beast did as cat-beasts do... tore the arms off the thing!

Hopefully, if Mosic was able to convince Kith to beat feet out of the shop, Ch'dau will let the thing be and follow them out... If not, he'll likely continue to dismemeber the thing. I'll let someone else decide the final outcome, there, I think.

So, this is the cat... Ch'dau, if I heard right... Yes. I do see why she desires you so.

The kazari responded with little more than a growl as he wrenched his blade free of the wooden body hidden beneath the cloak. Even as he did so, the creature’s arms bent in a disturbingly unnatural manner, reaching back (or was it forward, now?) to grab at Ch’dau. The cat-man’s response was instinctual and swift, lashing out to easily bat the reaching appendage away…

Hm, she neglected to mention the extent of your physical strength, the creature’s disembodied voice said, Little wonder Aranwen trusted you two to be safe enough without her.

One of the thing’s hands reached back then, stretching out with the intent to grab Kithran even though the mask’s unblinking eyes were still fixed on the kazari.

No matter. What will you do now, Kazari, the thing taunted, I trust you’ll find me far more… durable… than those low-grade mercenaries you slew earlier. And I only need to hold you long enough to subdue you.

As unsettling as the masked thing was, Ch’dau couldn’t help but let loose an almost sadistic chuckle in answer to that last bit. It does not matter how durable you think you are, the cat-beast snarled, even the most heavily armored fighter has weak spots at it’s joints!

 He took hold of the mannequin’s arm, just below where it’s shoulder should have been, and hauled it savagely back, denying it the opportunity to reach Kith. The thing reacted quickly, abandoning it’s attempted capture of the thief and, with one arm still free, swung it at the Kazari’s head. The blow staggered Ch’dau, though not enough that he fell or even failed to maintain his grip on the creature’s other arm. As the thing hauled back to deliver another blow, a flash of white and gold flickered in Ch’dau’s peripheral vision. There was a shout, then, followed by a solid thunk that seemed to vibrate through the mannequin’s body and the thing seemed to jerk in surprise as Mosic jerked the flange of his mace clear of the wooden body…

The little cleric gave a quick nod to the cat-beast, then, and scampered away to help Kithran to her feet. “Come, young miss,” he insisted, doing his best to lift the thief from the ground, “our welcome here seems to have as short a life as that thing is about to.”

…The shock of the quick little cleric’s blow forgotten, the mannequin sought to strike at the Kazari, again. Thanks to Mosic’s intervention, though, the renewed attack was half-a-blink late and Ch’dau caught the creature’s other arm in a grip identical to that which held the other. He pulled the thing close, snarling as his eyes glared deep into the empty eye holes of the mask. “You cannot hold me,” he growled, the muscles in his shoulders flexing as his grip tightened and he began to pull, “if you do not have arms!” With a roar and a jerk, he tore the things arms from it’s body.

Got a post started... might get it done before my afternoon meeting, might not. This encounter actually got me to break down and roll Mosic up just to see what spells he might have at his disposal, so, we'll see.

...what effect would a dispel magic spell have on our combat puppet?

I'm assuming that since Morgana uses magic to animate the things, dispel magic might cause it to topple, at least temporarily?

The holodeck can absolutely create a fully functional exercise room as you described. I won't go full nerd and write up how they work, here, but, if you're interested, you can check out the Memory Alpha article.

Sounds as if it might be wise for us to get this puppet out of the store, then. Hmmmm....

Breebles and I are going to do a little "backpost" collab in order to get back into Tochi and Melody's heads. Following that, I'll get a response going for Olan's last and, then, it's staff meeting time.

Not one... *shudders*... bit!

Looks like it might be time for a bit of the good old kazari limb-ripping tactic... I'll give it some thought and see what I can do about a post.

...you're never in a hurry!

Or... is that "you never need to worry".... ???

I dunno! It's Monday, I'm tired, there's a goose and chains of screaming.... dogs and cats living together, man!!! Stop the world! I wanna get off!!!

Edit: This gif sponsored by the number 7 and "neologisms," your $5 word of the day! We now return you to your regularly scheduled nonsense, already in progress.

You can thank Rer and bree for that one.

...the Sylzari were introduced to Antaron!

Hey!

What's with all the spray bottles?

...I could have gone further with that but, I found myself curious as to what the puppet's reacion might have been and didn't want to guess too much as this is technically Ch'dau's first encounter with such a thing.

Butterfly, feel free to carry on from the puppet's perspective or, if you prefer, just shoot me a note or two via PM and I'll carry on depending on what you decide to share.

Thanks.

As Aranwen pulled her cloak about her and exited The Countess and Cockatrice via the front door, Kith, Ch’dau, and Mosic made their departure through the kitchen. The Silver Cat was surprised, if not suspicious, that no more of Adedre’s henchmen awaited them. Following Kithran’s lead, they melted into the crowd and worked their way toward the apothecary. Ch’dau’s eyes were in constant motion, his senses sharp and keen for the faintest hint of trouble as they moved from one place to the next. Kith, too, seemed easily focused on seeing to it that she led them along the path of least resistance. Mosic, however, didn’t seem quite sure of what he should be doing other than following along behind the half-syl thief, and, after a furtive glance or two at the kazari that stalked surprisingly silently along beside him, at last coaxed a sidelong look from the cat-beast.

“What?” Ch’dau demanded softly, catching the little priest’s eyes peering inquisitively up at him.

“I… It’s nothing, I suppose,” Mosic replied, “I’m just curious, I suppose.”

“About?”

“A lot of things, I admit,” the Cid replied with a faint chuckle, “Presently, though, the way you fought…”

The great cowled head turned and the priest caught a glint of light playing off the gree-blue eyes that peered at him from its shodowed depths. He had expected words to follow that look but none came.

“…I can’t say I’ve ever seen anyone fight quite like that. It seemed as if there was no thought…er… no hesitation,” Mosic hastily corrected, “before you threw yourself into it.”

“And?”

The diminutive cleric shrugged; “And… well… you killed them all…”

“Not all,” Ch’dau snorted, “Kith had killed one, already. Aranwen, also, took the life from another, I believe.”

“Well, yes,” Mosic nodded absently, pondering his next words, “but, with you, it seemed… indiscriminate?”

“I do not know this word.”

“Indiscriminate?”

“Yes.”

“It means… um…” The cleric of Falloes’ face twisted in an expression of puzzlement. “….Hmmm… You didn’t care who you killed, I guess might be the best way to explain it?”

“I cared,” the kazari snorted, “I did not kill Kithran, or Aranwen, or you.”

“Right,” the Cid nodded, “but the other, even the ones who no longer offered a fight, you didn’t hesitate to kill them. It was as is… as if you didn’t have a plan… that you…”

“I had plan,” Ch’dau retorted, “Kill the big one first. He was closest to Kithran. Posed the greatest threat.”

“What about the ones who no longer posed a threat? The woman with the bow? The one unconscious at the bottom of the stairs?”

“They entered the battle, little one,” the kazari chuffed, “They knew death was possible and should have accepted it before they did so. I do not know how your kind fight, but Kazari do not leave an enemy breathing on the field. If your enemy still breathes, your enemy can still fight and, so, is still a threat.”

“Your kind doesn’t believe in mercy?”

“Mercy is for the weak. If you seek mercy, do not seek a fight.”

Especially with a kazari, it would seem, Mosic smirked to himself. “Have you ever left an opponent alive?”

“Perhaps,” the massive shape beside him shrugged, “Though, if I have, I have not seen their faces since”

Mosic couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “No,” he snickered, “I don’t suppose you would have.”

“You are a strange little monkey, Mosic Townes.”

“And you, Samuel, are an open book.”

“I do not know what that means.”

*****************

When priest and mercenary arrived in the alley shortly after Kith, the little Cid was still chuckling softly. Her curious and, perhaps, slightly irritated glance flicked between the two and she asked if either of them had paid enough attention to know if they had been followed. Both responded in the negative.

“Good, hopefully we will be safe for now then. Ch’dau,” she looked up at the cat-beast, “it is probably best if you stay out here. Keep to the shadows but do not hesitate to cry out for me if you need help…”

“You will be the first person I call, kibibi,” the Silver Cat assured her with a nod.

…She grinned and turned to the cleric, “And Mosic, you should probably do most of the talking. If I so much as breathe in their direction they’ll likely try to sell me some kind of perfume.” She shook her head, “Honestly, it is every time. I am either very beautiful or very smelly.” She grinned, “Or perhaps a combination of both, okay, let’s go, priest!” she said without taking a breath, and hopped around the corner to the store’s front with Mosic close behind.

As the two disappeared from the alleyway and into the shop, Ch’dau pressed himself into a shadowed nook, his attentions on the street beyond and the traffic that passed, there. For a while, there were none who passed that roused his suspicion, only the traffic one might consider normal on the streets of any town or city on Antaron that he’d ever seen, anway. After a time, though, one figure passed quietly by his shadowed nook and set his nerves on end.

 Built like a Syl, the creature was, but the smell was wrong. Rainwater, flowers, the sun shining through the forest canopy; these were the scents he usually associated with Aranwen’s folk. The one that passed by, though, seemed to be surrounded by a cloud of cloying perfume and, beneath that, ever so subtley, hung the odor of wood… dry and worked, not fresh and green like might emenate from a Syl. He wasn’t sure exactly why but the curious figure made him anxious and, after it passed the alleys mouth, Ch’dau slipped from his alcove and padded into the street behind it, watching as it made it’s way purposefully into the same shop that Kith and Mosic were visiting. The Silver Cat hesitated, unsure as to wether or not his suspicion warranted following the strange being into the shop just yet. As he deliberated, though, and only an instant after the thing had entered the shop, a shout and crash told him he had already waited too long.

Ch’dau reached under his cloak and tugged a short sword free even as he pounded for the apothecary’s door. As he reached for the latch, the door suddenly flung open before him and, standing in its jamb was Mosic. “Sweet Father Falloes,” the Cid blinked up at him, “I had hoped you were watching…” Mosic was already stepping aside, motioning to where Kith was being slammed to the floor by the odd creature who had drawn Ch’dau from the alley. “….Kithran…”

The kazari needed no further explanation, nor did he hear any if it was given. Rather, he strode past the little cleric and, snarling, reached out to haul the overly fragrant attacker off of the thief. He didn’t hesitate, either, in running a blade through the back of the thing. Instead of finding flesh, however, the blade sang out as if it had struck bone or wood. Ch’dau’s face was a mask of confusion, then, even as the thing’s head swiveled around to gawk at him through the sightless eyes of a smooth mask…

I'm thinking that might get me banned!

Stick on a stick! My favorite!!!

Post in the works.

Yeeeeeeah, yeah! Ara and Kith are like family to Ch'dau... he loves them both to death... he just gets to say so to Aranwen, right now, and, welll... you know... stuff and junk and thaaaangs...

All-stop to Wapr 9, just like that!

Can't wait to see Rer's take on Tal!

Giving some consideration to a Tochi post, now... will try to have something ready by tomorrow morning at latest.

The conflagration of wrath in the paralyzed kazari’s heart and mind was stoked further at being disarmed by the ghouls... Fueled even more by the condescending tone of the death-priest’s words… Then, when the cleric allowed the gigglers to eat Midge, he may as well have dumped lamp-oil into the inferno. At the sight of the ghouls falling on the Cid’s body, Ch’dau felt as if he might tear himself from his own body and the explosiveness of it might serve well enough to bring the place down. He hoped it would happen. Willed it to happen. In the end, though, despite the fury that threatened to consume him quicker than his wounds, it was not to be.

Instead, the pompous priest of D’hurgen had his chittering minions drag them further into the temple’s foul depths and put them in cages. “You will remain here at my leisure,” the death-cleric leered as the last cell door was shut, “You have no weapons, no way to call upon your gods.  You live - for now - because I allow it…”

And you live only because your gigglers were able to still me before I reached you, Ch’dau seethed even as the touch of the grave began to loosen. If only it could have done so faster, perhaps, the kazari might have been able to reach through the bars and, at least, tear the monkey’s smug face off of his grinning skull before he walked away.

“…If you are wise, you will be good houseguests, and I may reward you.  If you make a nuisance of yourselves, you will have no value to me, and I will deal with you accordingly,” the D’hurgenite continued, “I hope that you understand, and are wise enough to comply.  If you attempt escape, the ghouls will rend you to pieces, and I will not intercede again.”

Ever defiant, Ch’dau growled, though the sound scarcely made it from his throat.

“Goodbye for now,” the priest said, sauntering out of sight only a moment before the grip of the grave finally released the cat-man.

Ch’dau’s roar chased the cleric down the hall but was quickly drowned out by the maddened laughter of the ghouls that remained. For several moments, the kazari paced the floor of the tiny cell, snarling and chuffing and fuming. Finally, though, the severity of his injuries caught up to him and the growling diminished into a pained moan and he slumped to the floor, his back against one stinking wall in order to keep himself propped up. For a good while, he languished in the pain that washed over him; he might have even lost consciousness a time or two. After suffering the pain enough that it had begun to numb, though, the kazari let go of a shuddering sigh that gave way to a weak chuckle.

“In another k’tomba cage,” he snorted softly into the dank dark of the dungeon. “There is something ironic about that, yes, Ara? The path we have walked together began with me in a cage and Kithran on the other side of the door and, now, it seems, it will end the same way…”

He shifted his weight, thinking his injuries forgotten, but the effort refreshed his memory and another agonized groan escaped the kazari. He fell silent for a bit, the fresh waves of hurt coursing through him, but, again, everything went numb. “I am sorry, khatun,” he sighed over the incessant giggling, “that you have to be here at the closing of that circle. Sorry to you all, my friends… m’rra’fiki… that I could not spare any of you from this.”

With a grunt, Ch’dau forced himself back to his feet and stumbled for the door of his cell. Gripping the bars to hold himself up, he pressed his face against the repulsively cold iron. “I have been honored to know all of you, rrow’ka’a,” he rumbled, “Honored to have fought so long beside warriors the likes of you, honored to have called you friends, and I am honored to go to the Hunt with you at my side.” He sighed again, heavily, and closed his eyes. “And Aranwen Galandel,” his voice scarce a whisper, “no matter what failure you think was enough for you to drop your blade, you have never failed me… You never could… I have loved you since Davnor… and that, too, has been my honor.”

((OOC: Kazari translations - k'tomba = "f**king," m'rra'fiki = "my friends/clan"... And, yeah, I said it! I love you! Take that!  )

And I forgot to ask... just how bad off are we, health wise? I mean I know that poor Midge is digesting in ghoul guts but the rest of us didn't seem to fare exactly well.

...got it.

I'm assuming those of us that are paralyzed  come out of it shortly after we're caged?

*sloooooowly pushes spray bottle off table*

Tastes like deathburger!

...I have a feeling Ch'dau is going to let the puppet go about it's business. He's not aware, at first, that it is a puppet, in fact... just finds it odd that there's no smell of human, syl, cid, or otherwise beneath the perfume nad, that in itself, makes him nervous.

Considering how to start a post detailing that, of course... we'll see where it goes.

....mmm-hmmmm! That's definitely gonna make Ch'dau curious. A walking scratching post, is it?

...Yeeeeeaaaahhh, the whole pilfering from the dead bit is the second or third step in Ch'dau seeing that Kith's thieving isn't always a bad thing.  Besides, those guys aren't gonna have any need for that stuff now, right?

I almost had him snake everyone elses belts and such in order to fashion himself a dak'tar of sorts but decided, in the end, that there probably wasn't that much leather available.