Kesla Shoon makes a much more ballsy leap over the balustrade of the staircase I’m chasing her down than I honestly would have given her credit for, although once I see her do it I wonder if I might have sold her short after all. The daughter of Edhril Shoon making a blind leap to uneven ground below that I doubt she can see much at all from a height of at least ten feet should be much less of a surprise to me than it actually proves to be. In the end I stop for a moment just to marvel at it, watching her land and drop into a somewhat clumsy roll she nonetheless comes up out of without any visible injury, immediately drawing her sword as she does it. Prompting more of the audience who are actually growing ware of what’s unfolding near to them to leave their seats and try to clear some room.
Less than I would have expected, though. Almost as if some of them actually think this is part of the play. I mean, sure, it would be a very strange move for any playwright to pull, especially when the scene that’s unfolding on stage right now seems to be dramatic and not action based … but you never know. Art is a subjective thing, after all …
Down below I see the one who was with her, a very beautiful half-orc woman in a particularly striking and extremely expensive-looking red dress draw the longsword hanging at her hip and strike a defensive pose as she prepares for the closest of the advancing guards to arrive. It’s such an incongruous image I’m almost tempted to just stand here and watch, the dress and hair and her clear noble bearing so much at odds with the fact she’s wearing a substantial sword at all, never mind that she’s squaring up so efficiently. She clearly knows what she’s doing as she readies for the coming attack, and it’s only now that I recognise her, the one that ran Kuth so ragged back on the Heath the other night –
Something erupts from the wall at the back of the chamber, just beside the stage on our near side, and the entire room seems to jump as it happens, everything rocking with genuinely cataclysmic violence. Especially the stairs underneath me, which immediately throws me off balance, and as I stumble and my feet start to slip out from under me I only have one choice to prevent myself from taking a tumble down the remainder of the steps. I grab tight hold of the balustrade with both hands and hurl myself over the side. Even though I’m a good nine feet higher than Shoon was.
As I drop I barely have enough time before the landing to take in what’s going on directly beneath me, specifically Kesla Shoon cutting her way through four of Hontiresk’s signature impressively large security guards. The closest audience members, who were already starting to scramble in earnest as soon as the wall exploded, start to scatter with even greater urgency now, clearly twigging now that what’s unfolding near them now definitely isn’t part of the performance. The whole place is starting to move now, the audience at large making their way towards the exits as fast as they can, and I suspect it’s mere moments before panic truly sets in and people start to die in a stampede.
Then I land and throw myself into a forward roll entirely on reflex, turning and starting to draw my sword as soon as I’ve found my feet again. Even now I’m momentarily taken aback as I witness Shoon decapitate one of the remaining guards while the only other one not bleeding in a crumpled heap stumbles into the nearest seat with his arms tight around his stomach. Trying to hold his guts in, no doubt. She gives her sword a quick whip off to the side in an action that immediately sends me back to training sessions with my blade-master in Tabaphic when I was young, something he was particularly strict about drilling into me. Take any opportunity you can to keep your blade clean, even in the middle of a fight. Like now, using momentum to clear the excess blood from the steel. Then she turns as the headless body starts to crumple and, despite the relative gloom, her eyes fix on me.
Holding my sword low, I take a deep breath as I raise my hand, preparing to summon her for the rematch we didn’t have this afternoon. Through the corners of my eye I notice a few of Hontiresk’s guards stopping on either side of me, likely registering that I’m preparing for my own fight with her and now unsure what the protocol actually is, under the circumstances. I just focus on Shoon, taking my first step forward as I open my mouth to speak.
“Might wanna rethink that, actually.” she almost chuckles, cocking her head as she regards me now. I’m a moment trying to work out what she could possibly mean by that, even slower noticing those same guards around me starting to pull back, a little rattled now. Just as I finally catch sight of what’s charging up fast behind her. Directly from where the wall just exploded, in fact. Oh hell … why didn’t I make that connection the moment that happened? I was too focused on my intended opponent to realise how much trouble we’re actually in.
Shoon ducks aside just before that bloody golem from the Heath comes tearing through on all fours directly at me, and all I can do is throw myself aside, aiming for the seats now as I just let go of my sword so I don’t wind up accidentally impaling myself. I go down between two rows of the seats, and I don’t bother trying anything fancy when I land, just throwing my arms up to cover my face as I crash down on my chest and all the breath is knocked right out of me. It’s an uncomfortable enough impact I almost don’t even catch the seats just behind me getting forcefully torn right out of where they’ve been bolted into the floor, likely in a single casual backhander from the golem. When the wreckage finally starts to crash down it sounds like it’s all a significant distance away.
“Fuck …” I growl low in my throat, taking a wary beat before I even think about moving in the hope that it just kept right on going, very aware of all the screaming that’s now going on which definitely supports that idea. Finally I take a slow breath and start to push myself up off the floor, still going slow as I bring my knees up and plant my feet, finally dropping into a crouch with my hands still planted firm on the floor as I slowly let the breath go. Now I raise my head, just enough to take a quick, careful look out into the wider room.
I was mostly right, the golem did indeed keep charging right past me, now I see it a little short of the nearest entrance, flailing its gigantic arms about while it batters more of Hontiresk’s security guards into bloody pulp. But none of the patrons, though, at least not that I can see. Whover didn’t get out is clearly making a detour to the next available exit, and going fast.
When I turn, the first thing I see is my sword, disconcertingly close, it would seem, having jammed into the folded seat of one of the seats in the row in front. Clearly having landed close enough it very nearly impaled me after all. Bloody hell …
Then I look past and I see Kesla Shoon has already joined her companion, and as I watch they both cut down the last remaining guards between them, not seeming to have much trouble at all with the prospect, in fact. Then the larger woman points towards the stage and her half-orc friend barely even looks at her for a moment before nodding and starting to run for it. Shoon pauses for a beat, turning back now as she casts about, finally catching sight of me and holding for a moment. We hold each other’s eyes while I slowly push myself up, then she backs away towards the stage too, maintaining that contact for a few more moments before turning and starting to run in earnest.
Shit … I reach over now and grab hold of the hilt beside me, giving the sword a tug. It doesn’t budge, seeming stuck fast, and when I look down I see it’s stuck a good six inches or more into the wooden base of the hinged seat. I’m almost impressed by this noteworthy demonstration of the sheer quality and craftsmanship of elven steel, but I really don’t have time for this, so I take hold of it with both hands and start tugging with a good deal more force. It sticks for a few more seconds, something squealing angrily as I try hard not to twist the steel, knowing full well I can’t actually snap the steel but wary of tempting fate all the same. But then it finally starts to give and I grit my teeth before planting my feet firmer and giving it one last, particularly strong yank.
The sword pops free so suddenly it unbalances me, and I reel back on clumsy feet for several feet before finally catching myself. Then I notice I’m now stood in the open at the end of the row again and suddenly become uncomfortably aware how it’s gotten a good deal quieter in the last minute or so. No more sounds of brutal, bone-crunching violence, I notice …
As a cold shiver rolls down my spine, I take another slow, deep breath and turn with very wary deliberation to face the exit behind me again, where I know the golem is. Finding it still stood where it was, with no more living foes around it now but just a crumpled, gruesome collection of bloody, dishevelled remains scattered around it. Looking right at me, I think. I can’t quite tell with those strange, glowing red eyes, there are no pupils, but somehow I can feel its regard all the same, making that uncomfortable cold prickle so much worse.
Taking a cautious step back, I reach across and very slowly sheathe my sword again, knowing full well it would do me no good at all in the current situation. Taking another step, I raise my hands, trying to look as non-threatening as possible, and when I breathe in this time it feels shaky, instantly betraying my worked nerves. For a long beat I toy with the idea of perhaps asking it to just ignore me, but somehow I doubt that would do any good. It’s clear enough it's already marked me as an enemy.
On my fourth step backwards, it starts to shift too. It doesn’t approach me, not yet, but it still adjusts its footing, turning to face me a little more directly, and I freeze on the spot for a long moment seeing it. As I watch it I notice through the corner of my eye that the theatre has essentially been cleared now, I appear to be alone in here now, so there’s no-one else here for it to focus on. Well that’s just wonderful …
Letting my breath out now, finding it just as shaky leaving my lungs, I chance another step back, and it moves again too, not taking a step this time but starting to tighten in on itself, and it only takes me a beat to realise it’s squaring up. Preparing to take a run at me now. Shit … that does it, I stop thinking now and just turn on the spot, immediately breaking into a hard sprint down the side aisle in order to make a dash for the stage. I hear it coming less than a moment after, a genuine explosion of noise behind me, like clear it’s not even bothering to detour around the seats this time, just ploughing hard on all fours right through them. Coming bloody fast, it sounds like. Fuck … I don’t know if I’m going to make it at this rate.
Somehow I reach the end of the front row without being flattened and I almost swerve off to the side, considering perhaps going for the small door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY in the corner, but something makes me stick with my original plan at the last moment. It’s still fucking terrifying suddenly swerving hard into the path of the approaching behemoth, especially now I can actually see it approaching alarmingly fast through the corner of my eye, half the chairs in its path instantly crushed underfoot while the rest just go flying. But when the stage is within vague reach I don’t even bother trying to close the distance, I just take one more big step while the rest of me tenses, and throw myself bodily at the looming rise.
I’m already airborne when it suddenly occurs to me that there are oil-burning lamps lining the edge of the stage, some already knocked down to start spreading fire across the boards when the golem crashed through the wall. But there’s nothing I can actually do about it, so I just clench my jaw and narrow my eyes, bringing my arms up to shield my face, likely uselessly, as I tuck my legs up under me. Even so, the angle’s oblique and the height a little too tall for me to quite manage to land on the boards, so while I at least manage to clear the corner of the orchestra pit the edge still sweeps my legs out and suddenly I’m tipping over in mid-air.
When I land I land hard, and I feel two lamps shatter right under me as I tumble in a clumsy roll across the boards. I feel the heat bloom instantly, and I know right away that my clothing’s caught now, but I don’t think about trying to put myself out yet as I just kick my feet out and start scrabbling for purchase so I can drag myself up. Only thinking about the golem coming hard for me and desperate to get as far away from it as I can even as I feel the flames starting to bloom up my arms.
I have to roll over once to finally find my feet, and then I’m dancing fast across the boards as I fight to strip off my burning jacket. But once I’ve finally stripped it away and tossed it aside it slowly starts to dawn on me that no matter how fast I’ve been moving there’s no way that the golem wouldn’t have already overtaken me, and yet I’m still alive and unharmed. I pause on the spot and take a deep breath, slowly turning around. I don’t have to worry about getting burned, thanks to my red dragon blood I’m essentially immune to fire. Unlike my clothes. But that’s really not the issue right now …
The golem’s just stopped, a few feet short of the conspicuously empty orchestra pit, stood almost casually as it seems to just be watching me. Like before. I can still feel that sharp, intense regard, but somehow … I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel like much of an inherent threat now. But I can’t think of a single reason why it would suddenly break off the chase, not when I’m so close.
“Hello?” I recognise the voice well enough, even though the fact that it seems to be coming from somewhere above me still throws me. “Up here, luv!”
Turning around on the spot, I look up and start casting about the upper workings above the stage, where the fly system’s situated, and after a moment I see Kesla Shoon standing there on the central catwalk, looking down at me. Her expression suggests she’s entirely at home up there, which I find a little baffling given it’s a good thirty feet above me.
“What the hell are you doing?” I call up to her, frowning as I feel the full weight of this pure surreality. “This is not a bloody game!”
Taking hold of one of the great jumbled tangle of lines, she gives it a careful testing tug first before letting it take her weight so she can lean out over me, reaching up with her other hand to cup her ear. “You what? ‘Fraid I can’t quite hear you, luv! Come again?”
Growling low, I cast about for a moment, looking for something to throw, then just give up, realising this would just be foolish and entirely pointless, I doubt I could hit her from that height, it would simply be peevish. I turn for a moment to regard the golem, who doesn’t seem to have moved, still regarding me with what I could only describe now as a very cool look, almost like it’s judging me. Which is odd given how its distinct lack of expression makes it look just as it’s always done. In the end I just wave at off with a particularly angry dismissive growl and stalk off into the wings, looking for a way to climb up to her now.
I’ve not actually been backstage much in my time, this is still a somewhat alien environment for me, so within moments I start to get lost. The fact that the fire’s starting to spread now doesn’t help, the smoke’s still thin but it’s starting to make the air a little hazy as I stalk about through the tight, winding confines of the wings and crossover, hemmed in by rambling stretches of tall wooden walls. But eventually I find a staircase leading up, steep and, while well-built like everything else, still somewhat rudimentary, which I see leads up to higher levels and platforms above. I look up now, but from here it’s almost impossible to make the catwalk out very clearly, so I have no idea if she’s even still up there.
Part of me starts to nag that this is getting stupid, there’s no real reason for me to go chasing after her, that this place is starting to burn and with that great hulking thing wandering about no sane person would try to come in to fight the flames. This could become a dangerous place very quickly, I definitely need to get out of here, find my friends and get to a safe distance until we can regroup and think of another way to get at these people.
The others will already be here by now, or at least on their way, I told Trouble to break off and go find Hontiresk, so she could inform him of what’s going on, perhaps get through to Tavarrat since there’s no doubt she’ll have given him a means to contact her. Then through her she could send a message to the rest of our group, tell them to get over here pronto, as I’ve heard them say in Abharet. With luck they’re already downstairs, in the catacombs, dealing with whatever crazy shenanigans the Creeping Bang are pulling to try and free their friend, and the rest of the captives. Much as I’d rather just let them have the wizards and everyone else that’s been stolen, we’re here to do a job, and under our current problematic contract we’re awkwardly obliged to see it through.
I could just find my way out the other side of the backstage, to the entrance to the cellars, and go deal with that myself alongside Jammund and the rest of his people. Maybe we could resolve everything down there in one fell swoop, finally put them all to an end out of sight of the rest of the city. But I just can’t shake that niggle, deep down, that I’m owed. The unfinished business on the Heath, brought to an abrupt end between me and Shoon, even if I was the one who called the retreat. It’s gnawed on me since, and a festering part of me really wants to finish that, even if I have a sneaking suspicion she really is better than me.
So I start climbing, moving with a confidence I’m not sure I really buy into yet as I step onto the next level up and cast about again, finally finding a ladder which I immediately jump on and start scaling. Looking up again to see it at least leads to a platform I suspect has access to the catwalk.
The air’s starting to get thicker now, when I finally make it to the platform the acrid haze is starting to ebb and shift, making it a little more difficult to pick out details, but for now it’s still clear enough to pick my way around. Working my way around stacked boxes and piled coils of rope, I finally find two nailed boards stretched across to the catwalk, and as I step out into the relative open I see her come into view through the thin smoke.
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She’s still dressed as I saw her below, no armour that I can make out, any more than I’m wearing, looking very much like a typical noble’s bodyguard in her extravagant but practical garb, cut and fitted for ease of movement despite its smartness. Although as I look at it now, even through the thin smoke I can definitely see she’s already generously splashed with blood, visible to my experienced eyes even though half of her ensemble is already scarlet coloured. And her hair’s loose, unlike both times I saw her before, tight, bouncy black corkscrew curls that tumble across one eye as she regards me with cool interest.
“Evenin’ there. So glad you could join me.” She shifts her feet a little, which I notice isn’t the simplest prospect since the catwalk’s barely two broad planks wide, and raises her sword as she affects a ready guard. “Shall we?”
“While I should query your mental state given this particular venue for our rematch, I’ll admit I’m too inclined to grant your wish to argue.” I step onto the catwalk myself, and it shifts under my added weight, immediately informing me that we’re not really fixed in here, only actually attached by hanging lines and strung chains. We’re not swaying yet, but I suspect that could change when things get … boisterous. I take a few steps back and a deep breath in as I set my feet a little more firmly, and I can feel the dryness at the back of my throat grow, informing me that the air’s growing less viable for our continued presence. Or at least hers, smoke’s never really bothered me.
Drawing my sword at last, I pull down into a low crouch, raising my weapon with both hands gripping the hilt, and fix her with narrowed eye. “When you’re ready, then.”
“Oh no, by all means, you’re proper welcome yourself, luv.”
The way she smiles, just a little bit, when she says that, is frustrating enough I almost let it set me charging after all, but I hold my ground, tightening my grip as I just bare my fangs and raise my sword a little higher. “I really don’t mind. Feel free to start.”
Cocking her head, she regards me for a long beat, then takes a subtle step back … and brings her back foot down hard, sending a hard, rocking jolt through the whole structure. Shit … I barely catch myself as the catwalk suddenly sways violently, only just keeping my footing along with my balance as I stumble. And then she’s on me, clearly intent on using my distraction to her full advantage.
The sweeping slash she aims at my belly comes uncomfortably close to biting home before I’m ready, so I have to twist as I jump backwards, clumsy as I plant my feet again while swatting my sword down hard and battering her blade away. She just twists in response, already far more comfortable in her own position as she turns the deflection into a counter, and follows through with a particularly savage backhanded slice at my face. All I can do with that is wheel back, bending my back as I arch my neck aside from the stroke, and even then it comes alarming close to my nose as I stumble back.
She presses me hard before I have a chance to find good footing, battering me with hard probing swipes and jabs that come too quick for me to really take accurate note of, my own responses largely instinctive and driven mostly by strong muscle memory. Again I’m reminded how expertly she hounded me on the Heath, but I start to wonder if she might have been holding back somewhat then, testing my capabilities to get a better read on me then. Now it seems like she’s foregone that restraint, instead attacking with her full ferocity, and I’m having genuine trouble responding well enough to maintain an effective defence.
What’s most alarming is that she’s largely abandoned her offhand grip on her sword now, despite her heavy steel she’s attacking with the deft, nimble speed and agility of a fencer. Only gripping and guiding the sword with her left when it truly needs that extra precision or strength through its alarmingly swift cut-and-thrust passage. So far there’s no sign of any pattern here, nothing I can pick up on as repetitive signatures or relied-upon preferences. I’m learning nothing that could give me any kind of focused, educated advantage in order to counter her form.
In the end I do the only thing I can think of, simply swinging a particularly hard low clash that she parries but still reels back from under the brutal force of it, and it’s barely enough to give me a very brief gap in order to stagger back. Finding the remaining available room behind me running out fast, but I’m backing up to the end of the line with very particular purpose right now. I plant my backfoot firm and bring my sword low as I prepare a tight defence … then as she advances with her sword high I swipe to the left with all the strength I can muster.
I aim for the chain, not the ropes, trusting the uncanny strength and razored keenness of my blade’s elven steel to sheer clean through it. There’s just a hair of resistance as I make contact, but it severs with an angry pop and the whole catwalk bucks angrily as it’s instantly rendered a good deal less stable. The thick, tightly-knotted lines remaining are strong and well-wound, they take the strain as the two broad planks suddenly tip a little to the left in sympathy, but they give an audible creak all the same, and suddenly everything’s starting to noticeably list.
Shoon barely manages to catch herself as the ground under her suddenly becomes a good deal more treacherous, and her intended attack is badly spoiled. In the end her savage downward stroke misses me by bare inches and I dance away as much as the minimal room I actually have allows, ultimately forsaking my own responsive attack so I can instead dart past and exchange places with her. Squaring up on her turned back now as I prepare a hard two-handed lunge for her liver.
Only for her to twist at the last, almost as if she senses the danger after all, and before I can drive my blade home she spins her own sword round and knocks it aside with a wild flourish. I have to wheel back as the force of the counter knocks me back on my heels, peddling back several feet until I can regain my balance, and by then she’s already recovered, gripping her sword low while she watches me through her frowning brows. Somehow both warily serious and appreciably amused all at once.
“Nice move, there, luv. I didn’t see that one coming. Fuckin’ ballsy, you could’ve just killed us both if you’d cocked it up.”
Thorin … her unnervingly chipper mood, despite where we are, and what’s happening all around us, starts to grate on me. I’m sure she’s doing it to work my nerves, but even so, it’s working. I’d be so happy if I could carve that little smirk off her face, I swear.
But then, I do have her where I want her now, at least, even if she doesn’t seem at all fazed by it. So I offer up my own smirk and take a step back … then stomp my foot down hard on the left side of the catwalk, not only causing it to shudder violently but also tip aggressively down while the ropes protest again. I just manage to maintain my footing enough to push off and charge at her again while it rocks significantly, like a poorly moored boat on an angry stretch of river, turning and twisting my blade for a low, savage slice into her side.
Shoon rocks back, weathering the worst of it, but she’s still unbalanced enough she can’t quite guard herself in time as I press her hard. My sword bites into her just under the ribs … and sticks, stopping too shallow into her tunic to have actually penetrated. With a very heavy metallic click, I manage to pick up, just before she reaches up to grab my upper arm and lock it in place as I look up into her face in wide-eyed surprise. “What the hell –”
The hit made her wince, at least, but even so she doesn’t seem anything like as hurt by this stroke as I would have hoped. Then she starts to smile, her grip tightening on my arm now as she holds me fast. “Shame you didn’t think that far ahead.” Then she reels her head and shoulders back before I realise what she’s doing, and butts me right between my eyes.
My head just explodes in a great flash of blinding white light and a truly painful lightning crack that seems to split my skull, and when I can feel my body again most of me is as clumsy and rubbery as if I’m made of jelly. She’s let me go now, but as I stagger back the small remaining rational part of my mind warns me that she intended to. But it’s so tiny right now, I can barely hear it while the rest of me is screaming from the pain from the worst hit my head has ever taken. I almost can’t believe she could actually manage something so savage, not with a soft human skull like that.
Mostly I’m just a shocked mess, really, and it’s all I can do to claw enough sense back into myself to stop my feet from stumbling any further back that I might just walk myself right off the catwalk and take a devastating plunge to the blazing stage below. Honestly, I’m not sure if that would actually kill me, I’ve shaken off some very serious hits in the past, but I don’t doubt it would leave me badly broken, and right now that’s too dangerous to risk. I give my head a good hard shake and my skull screams again in protest, rewarding me with a nauseating wave of fresh pain that almost makes me collapse on the spot as it is. I reach up now and somehow manage to touch my forehead with very shaky fingers, which just prompts more pain from the goose egg I can already feel starting to form there, but at least when I take them away there’s no blood on them.
“Fuck …” I hear her growl now, and I blink the best I can to try and clear my somewhat blurred, watery vision, but it still takes uncomfortable moments for me to gain enough focus on her to see she’s not escaped unscathed either. She’s stumbling a little too, but as I look it becomes clear enough it’s not so much from the headbutt, while she has a dark mark starting to form between her own brows now she seems a good deal clearer than I feel. Instead she’s doubled over a little in favour of the side I tried to cut into, which I realise now is still conspicuously clean of her blood. As she reaches up with her hand she probes the wicked tear in her tunic, and winces loudly, tensing a little more as she gives me a sharper look now. “Oh … yeah, it don’t seem like you broke anything, but feels ‘least like you managed to bruise my ribs doing that. I do not appreciate that.”
“How … did you … I don’t …” I give my head another shake and this hurts almost as much as the first try, she really has rattled me significantly.
Cocking a brow that just makes her wince a little, which at least tells me that the butt hurt her a little too, she gives me a somewhat tired half-smile. “Ah-ah, no I don’t reckon I will tell. Trade secret.” Taking a deep breath, she plants her feet now and drags her sword up from where she’s had the point resting against the plank beside her foot. But at least her hand shakes a bit as she raises it to point towards me. “Reckon you got more pressing concerns right now, anyway.”
“What the fuck …” I don’t know what to make of that, she’s acting like she has all the time in the world and that this is nothing more than a bit of fun for her. That her success is assured, and she’ll be able to escape without a scratch. I genuinely don’t understand it. “How can you … is this a joke to you? How can you be so calm? Don’t you see what’s going on down there? This is crazy. Don’t you understand what …”
My words falter as her smile just widens into a broad grin, even as she tries to draw in a deep breath which just makes her start coughing and brings up a deeper wince from her side. The smoke’s getting thicker as we speak, it seems, but then the air does seem to be growing a good deal hazier now. “Oh, I get it just fine. But you don’t clearly. I ain’t up here with you to fight, I’m here to keep you occupied. I’m the distraction.”
Fuck … as I step back again, realising she really has just played me, I give my head another shake, and while it still hurts the pain is less intense than before, my mind clearing some with the effort. Damn it … this whole time I thought I was up here to finish this, l but instead she banked on my growing obsession with beating her to get me up here. And now I’m here …
If that injury to her ribs really has slowed her down a step or two, it doesn’t show as she rushes me again, still favouring her swifter one-handed wielding as she starts swatting at me with the same vicious aggression as before. Again I respond in kind the best I can, but I’m still running mostly on instinct, now too rattled by the realisation that I’ve been so comprehensively duped. Like a fucking idiot, I came up here to fulfil my own selfish need for closure while her friends are off doing … hell, the gods know what, right now. There’s no way for me to know. So between this and my still slightly muddy head I’m very much on the backfoot again.
Then the catwalk gives a far more violent shudder than any of our current movements have any right to produce, and she falters, her most direct attack going wide enough I don’t even have to try to swat it aside, and she peddles for a moment to maintain her balance. She catches herself, but ends up stumbling back a few steps all the same, and as I go down to one knee, gasping in a somewhat winded breath which tastes very much like smoke now, I cast about for a sign of what’s wrong. The air’s growing uncomfortably thick, the smoke starting to obstruct some of our further surroundings now, but I can see well enough through it that the fire’s starting to spread with a true, voracious hunger now. Grasping flames are starting to ride up the walls around us now, while I can see some of the platforms around and below us are catching too. Then there’s another heavy jolt and this time the catwalk noticeably tips a few more degrees, and when I look past her I can barely make out one of the lines has gone, and not from the strain. The fire’s starting to catch among the rigging now, it looks like our time out here is numbered in seconds.
“Shit!” I hiss as I push myself up off my knee, stumbling clumsily as I try to right myself on this much more unstable ground, and as I struggle the planks under our feet shudder even worse than before, nearly throwing me off right here. Shoon seems to have registered the danger too, she’s already moving, and as she rushes past me she throws herself hard out to the side, aiming for the main platform behind. I don’t think too much as I stumble back and then make the leap for myself, just as the last rope must give because the catwalk suddenly just drops out from under me …
She makes the platform, I see, crashing through some of the stacked boxes, one of which was already starting to burn so as it all collapses around her it throws up a great cloud of sparking embers. I drop too fast to have a hope of landing safely behind her, so I do the only thing I can, tossing my sword ahead of me so I have both hands free and as I throw my arms out and just hope.
The edge of the platform hits me hard enough in the chest I almost just bounce right off, and as it is I’m so winded by the impact it’s a miracle I’m able to respond in time to save myself after all. In the end my talons are all that save me, catching the wooden boards of the platform and locking in place just in time for me to hang on for dear life, the rest of me swinging wildly out in the open air. I feel the heat fierce on my legs now as they dangle in the emptiness, and really have to work hard to keep from kicking in fear of just bucking myself off into a very painful drop indeed.
Pushing herself up, Shoon scrabbles back and almost falls right over again as she shakes out the flames that have caught her right sleeve, then thrashes about for a long moment working to strip her tunic off. Throwing this over the side she doubles over for another beat, hands on knees, snatching up what breath she can get, but eventually this just gets her coughing again and she spits off into the haze. Then she turns my way and regards me for a long moment indeed, frowning a little. “Yeah … sorry. Much as you clearly need help right now, I ain’t gonna offer it. You seem like you got it handled well enough, anyway. Just hang on, you’ll be fine.”
As she steps away she turns enough I get a better look at the gash cut into the side of the quilted white linen garment she’s been wearing underneath, catching the glint of iron underneath, and I realise what it actually is. A jack-of-plates … of course, that explains it. No wonder my blade didn’t just cut right through her middle and end it right there, she was armoured in spite of her disguise. Not that I’m at all surprised, given what I’ve learned.
Still, as she staggers off without another word, scraping her sword up off the boards, she reaches up with her free hand and presses it tight to that spot, coughing some more as she hobbles away. Looking a bit more wounded than she did before, when we were fighting, with adrenaline pumping fast. Now she’s slowing down the harm is starting to take a toll, and it looks like I dealt her significantly more damage than she originally let slip.
Not that it makes any difference to me right now, barely hanging on here … it’s all I can do not to yell out a few obscenities after her, despite the fact deep down I don’t blame her for just leaving. We’re not friends, she’s still very much my enemy, as much as we might respect one another she wouldn’t help me, any more than I would her. But it still irks me while I’m dangling by my claws.
Gritting my teeth, I try dragging myself back up as I am, but strong as I might be I barely have enough purchase here just to hang on. Hissing angrily through my clenched teeth, I work the fingers on my right a little to make sure I’ve got the firmest, tightest grip on the wood I can muster, then take the deepest breath I can with my chest compressed and the air getting so acrid and let go with the left. There’s a very hairy moment as my entire weight is hung entirely on just four talons and the board gives a very loud creak that warns me I’m really pushing my luck right now, while my body unavoidably starts to swing while my weight shifts. It’s all I can do to time it so that as I swing back I’ve got just enough momentum to shoot my left hand up and drive my claws in good and deep a little further across, and even then the pain at the root of my talons is enough I’m terrified they’ll just rip out right here. But they hold, and let my breath out slow as I prepare myself for the next part.
Again tensing my grip the best I can, I take another breath and offer up a silent prayer to whichever god might be watching right now before I start swaying after all. This time I keep my legs loose, instead moving from my hips, side-to-side, first subtly but quickly building up a smooth momentum before finally starting to put a little more force into it. Now my fingers are protesting as I feel my claws starting to snag and pull, and it feels like I’m pressing my luck a little now, I might not have much time or opportunity left before something tears. So on the next relative downswing I tense up a little more and, as I whip my legs back up, hard as I can now, I yank my right hand loose and, with what momentum I have, try to reach as far as I can.
The same moment I swing my right leg up in my attempt to hook my foot up over the edge of the platform, I again dig my claws in, and this time I feel something give as they snag into the wood. Pain flares in two of my fingers as I feel those talons snap, and it’s almost enough to rob my whole arm of any remaining strength in its intensity, but I hold on as I let a great angry yell out and barely manage to gain my purchase with my foot. Gritting my teeth tight enough I hear them creaking in my head, I start to pull again, working on dragging myself up and over as forcefully as I can now I have real purchase, and this time it starts to work. There’s a worrying moment as my heel slips an inch or so, but I manage to arrest it in time and redouble my efforts, and then suddenly I’m up on the platform again and I just collapse.
Rolling over onto my back, I lie there for a little while, sucking in great lungfuls of increasingly toxic air that’s even making it harder for me to breathe now, while I feel the wood underneath me growing uncomfortably hot now. Slowly it occurs to me again that this is probably not the best place for me to be right now, even if I am mostly fireproof.
Sitting up, I raise my right hand in front of me, reluctant to really inspect the damage but knowing I have no choice right now. The claw on my index finger has snapped clean, nothing left now but a ragged little stump. The middle, on the other hand, is only partially torn through, hanging loose with a little blood welling up from under the quick. Shit … there’s not much I can do about this besides simply tear it off. Wincing, I take hold of it and count down from three, clenching my teeth again in anticipation of some major pain, before giving it a little twist and yanking hard. It gives me another, more focused little spear of hot pain and I almost drop on my back again, but in the end I just double over some more, cradling my throbbing fingers as I breath hard again and will the pain to fade. That takes longer than I’d like …
I’ve definitely run out of time up here now, and it’s clear enough that Kesla Shoon has long since fled, no remaining signs to show where now. This platform’s already burning with some enthusiasm, I’m quickly running out of safe space to stay, so I push myself up with far more protestation from my body than I’d really like right now. It takes me a few swimming steps to really regain my balance again, my head’s still rattled a touch from that hit, but I spot my sword quickly enough, barely three inches from a burning patch and, as I scrape it up, already very warm. I give it a few swipes through the air in the hope this might cool it down a little, then sheathe the blade again, moving towards the back of the platform again as I start looking for a way back down.
Very aware now that, since this clearly was just a distraction, I’m definitely not where I’m supposed to be right now. I can only hope the others are managing to hold their own down below.