Cold Hearts IC Thread

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The Oompth was offset by the equally obvious wet splash as Indoril fell straight into knee deep sewage, gently flowing against him.

The stench was immediately over-powering, it seemed the very oxygen of the air was replaced by faeces and other, worse substances. The place was dark, dark even for a druchii. The liquid-come-slime was disturbingly warm, glooping around his legs, squelching loudly. Occasionally some warm lump would bump into Indoril's leg, before gliding on past him to the sewer entrance to the sea.

As the din of the rain outside subsided to a steady rumble in the background, the sewer's sounds game to life. The gentle skittering of claws, the slow squelching of the sludge, far off distant screechings of rats, or maybe even worse, deeper moans.

The tunnel continued in two directions. Left or right.
 
Once more, a stream of curses erupted from the elegant, Druchii mouth before the stench caused his to gag. Pulling up the thick, cloth half-mask he had neglected to use so far, he looked around through narrowed eyes, trying to make out what was ahead of him in the tunnel. Something warm and uncomfortably solid bumped against his leg and his mind was made up; without hesitation he started wading forwards through the vile concoction, ignoring the sounds which reached his sensitive elven ears.

Upon reaching the intersection, he paused for all of three seconds before turning left, once more hoping against hope that it would take him in the right diretion.
 
Kelarith nodded. "One moment."
January needed him for something where he would be better off not being seen as an Exexutioner but removing his armor, the dalakoi, was akin to heresy.
He started rummaging in a scavenge pile that had formed in the corner of the room and quickly found what he was looking for; robes. A bit small but the hood covered most of his face and dalakoi.
He walked back towards the female Druchii and extended his arm towards the exit in an inviting gesture.
"Let us depart."
 
As Indoril advanced forwards, the rumble of the outside weather started to give way to the higher pitched splash of what sounded like a waterfall. The increased pace of the water and a slightly lighter stench confirmed the supposition. The floor of the sewer was hardly well made, Indoril would have to be careful with his footing.
 
"Right then I better try getting ut of here" Shevael mumbled "I doubt the others would try breaking me out"

clearing his throat he tried sounding as much as what a highborn would sound like as he cried out

"In the name of the Witch King let me out you peasant scum!!!!

I am a agent of the witch king now if you don't get me out I shall get the endless to storm this miserable hovel and slaughter you all.... no wait I have a better idea how about I give you to Morathi so you can be here personal sex slave for eternity. If you thought the rumours about her where bad you you have another thing coming, now let me out!!!!"


"I wonder if this works???" he thought waiting to see if anyone would come
 
Indoril accidentally opened his mouth and, even through his half-mask, started gagging and retching on the smell. He continued up his chosen tunnel steadily, disgusted that he had been reduced to walking through the sewers.

And then he slipped. He had placed his foot on a broken piece of floor, but when he put his weight on it the tile beneath his foot broke, sending him completely off-balance. He spun his arms crazily and managed to regain his balance before he went face-first into the foul, gloopy concoction of Druchii faeces and other bodily outputs, including what he was sure was the coppery tang of blood just before the near-overwhelming stench. As Indoril continued forwards, carefully testing where he put his feet before applying all his weight, he lost the sound of the rain to that of other falling water; far too much to be natural under a city. ‘Waterfall?’ he asked himself, feeling the current of the water pick up. He hissed involuntarily, and decided to get closer to the falling water and seeing if there was a way to climb out.
 
As Indoril approached it became vaguely clear through the brown/green smog that there indeed was a waterfall up ahead. There seemed to be some service ladder, heavily mossed and slimy, but intact enough. However the water fall was so vast one could not see the putrid top of it beyond the gloom.
 
January headed through the streets towards the Sleeping Dragon. She had plenty of time to spare, nearly two hours by her reckoning. Plenty of time to set things up.
She excused herself from Kelarith's side for a second and nipped into an alleyway, emerging with yet another package.
"Are you going to demand payment from Indoril?" she asked as they trudged through the rain.
 
"Payment?" Kelarith shook his head. "I kill for my Lord, that is all. Money never interested me and never will."
They walked on through the rain and Kelarith adjusted the robes as he walked. He wanted more freedom of movement and found the cloth restricting. Funny, he thought, his armor was a second skin to him but a few meters of cloth felt restrictive.
It didn't take them long to arrive at the Sleeping Dragon. Like all bars it was loud and smelled like alcohol and another more sour smelling liquid that was a byproduct of said drinking. Unlike other bars in the Old World this was also a very dangerous place for fellow Druchii did not spend their free time relaxing. And if they did relaxation was simply another word for 'torture'.

Kelarith turned towards January.
"You go in first before me and I follow a minute or so later?
I'll wait for your sign on the target"
 
Kelarith made a little huffing sound, probably unheard by Januray due to the pouring rain.
Sitting around, socializing...how he loathed the thought of that.

He walked around the block of the tavern making sure nobody was following him and after he made a few circles he entered the Sleeping Dragon.
Faces looked up when he entered. Some quickly looking away, awed by his sheer height and bulk, others' gaze lingering, trying to size him up as a possible threat or victim.
Kelarith walked straight towards the bar where a Druchii stood behind the counter with a huge scar running down his face. Several smaller blades were visibly packed on his body, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice. He looked like business and he had to as he probably had his few shares of fights every day with some of his customers. Behind the counter hung a sign with the number one house rule: KILLING OUTSIDE FOR KHAINE'S SAKE.
Fair enough.

Kelarith took out a few coins from his pouch and laid them on the counter. Without wasting any words the barman poured a glass of bloodwine. It seemed that was the only thing on the menu or he was good at guessing which customer wanted what drink. Kelarith picked up the glass and went to sit in a corner of the room. From here he had a good view of the room and, more importantly, no other Druchii nearby.
 
In Shevael's cell, the door clanged loudly, shaking in its frame, yet it did not budge. Some dust fell from the ceiling and lightly coated him.
 
Seeing no other option Shevael did something drastic.... he prayed
"Oh powerful and mighty gods who created me as such an idea model of greatness and perfection, hear me now offer me a sign to show you have not forsaken me, a star like me should not have to suffer such hardships. As your perfect and wonderful creation I demand that you use your divine powers to free me from this cell and show me where this Hydra is,
oh and bless my greatness"



seeing that nothing was happening he he let out a sigh before began feeling around the dark cells floor searching for something to help him escape
"damn bloody gods, I have to do everything as usual. Why is it that someone of such perfection such have to deal with stuff like this."
 
As Shevael looked around on the ground the air grew.. heavy with charge. Suddenly a small, echoey whisper spoke in one ear.

Maybe you could ask.... politely
 
Shevael stood very still as he contemplated what was happening.

"I knew it!!!!!, and every one reckoned I was crazy" he cried happily "I knew you would answer my prayers my faith in you gods is so strong nothing could break it, and so shall the gods answer their favoured one.
Oh this is no good at all I am absolutely filthy how can someone be in your presence please forgive me if you want I can undress after all you created my body to be the ultimate expression of your perfection so it probably would be for the best especially if you chose to elevate me to the godhood we all know I rightfully deserve being so amazing

Please oh great voice who I assume and hope are the gods please save me"

prostrating himself on the ground
 
There seemed to be the sound of a surpressed sigh, then a giggle.

yes... yes.. undress yourself human, let me see what we have created...
 
Indoril looked up at the disgusting service ladder and once more repressed a shudder of indignation over what he was doing. Steeling himself, he placed a hand on the slimy metal and ensured he had a firm grip before placing any of his weight on it.

Not going to be lured into a false sense of security, he worked his way up slowly, testing all the rungs before he applied all of his weight to any of them - pulling and pushing on them in an attempt to ensure he didn’t take a dive into the sludge he had finally left behind. The elf looked up, and his amethyst eyes seemed to flare in irritation and despair at how long it was going to take to reach the top rungs. ‘Nevertheless ... Careful is the way to go!’
 
As Indoril worked his way up the ladder, the haze gave way to what appeared to be the top, large circular hole in the ground, with a large grate over it, the grate was so large that the gaps inbetween the bars were probably large enough to fit even a human through, as the large chunks of torso and limbs careening down the water fall were testament to. The brown-green of the sewers began to give way to the coppery red of blood, and the equally metallic smell and taste of it in the water that rained down.
 
The Druchii felt like he had been climbing for eternity in the smog; he had become acclimatised to the stench, his movements steady and paced - after he had broken two rungs early in the climb and slipped off another, relying on his upper body strength to hang on and not fall to the deathly-smelling sludge below.

When he reached the grate-covered hole, he hesitated. If he was inside the manse, as he hoped, then the hydra could be anywhere. He regretted not being able to bring the halberd up the ladder with him, but it would have just encumbered him and he would have ended up dropping it regardless. Better to not have taken the risk. As he scanned the fall of mixed liquids and body parts, he took a deep breath, revelling in the tang of water which stuck to his cloak. ‘This is what Khaine meant for us,’ he thought ruefully. Blood was better than any amount of gold to Indoril. Carefully, he wrapped his left arm and leg around the rungs they were clasping to, anchoring himself to the ladder, whilst with his right hand he pulled out a piece of polished metal and, hoping it wouldn’t be seen, angled it so that he could see what was happening in the room above his head.
 
The polished piece of metal glinted slightly as Indoril adjusted it to the correct angle.

The image of a dimly lit room came into view and slaves, some limbless supposedly, seeping, dragging or otherwise moving blood and bodies into this central drain. At a glance by the occasional giant faece hurtling past something large had been eating.. and excreting here recently. There were plenty of other things aside from a hydra that could leave similar trails though, and the metal was becoming less and less clear as a steady haze of blood condensed on it.
 
Indoril cursed once more as the crimson lifeblood of nameless groups of people blotted the reflection on his polished metal. What he had seen helped him decide, though, as did the fact that waste too large for anything but a creature of a hydra’s approximate size.

Slipping between the bars with the strength in his upper body, and hanging between two as an assassin did when practicing on parallel bars, and swung himself backwards and forwards, gathering momentum, until he let go of the bars and landed in a crouch by the side of the grate, a caustic smile beneath his half mask. With disgust he felt his hands were sticky and grimaced.

“Slave! Where is the creature?” he growled at the closest, thrusting his right arm forward to push his stiletto blade into his hand. “The consequences will be dire if you don’t comply with my orders ...” His eyes were cold as the variety of quartz they resembled. The threat lingered in the air tangibly; all slaves knew the brutality of all their Druchii masters. It would be a brave fool to defy one, regardless how strange their entry.
 

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