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 Post subject: Ghosts of Weavers Past
PostPosted: 08 May 2010, 22:49 
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Ivan lifted an eyebrow in interest at the basic but sound apparent layout of the interior arena. The owners either mustn't have feared the commoners outside or were confident in their own ability to control them, since security approaching from the outside was remarkably loose. Lucky for the Weavers, though Ivan himself was confident that security from the inside was considerably tighter. Made sense, after a fashion. If these people made a habit of only collecting the dregs of society's dregs, then nobody would bother mounting a rescue attempt for those inside, and they need only worry about the caught not escaping on their own. But then...if the slavers were that smart, then surely they'd've taken note at their encounter with Wolf earlier that she had friends. Or a friend.

A blind friend. Why would they worry about some crippled freak? Crippled freak!

Ivan took note of Shark's comment on the situation but didn't respond, following Aldrich as the trio made for the stone stairs. "Aldrich, this establishment is not a dump, and the organisation, while loose, is definitely present and in control." He paused for a moment as he took the first step up the stairs, "How smart do you think these people are?"



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 Post subject: Ghosts of Weavers Past
PostPosted: 10 May 2010, 16:03 
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"Smart enough to be running an apparently successful business," Aldrich replied to Ivan's question. "They're making enough to keep this building maintained; they've got people guarding the vital bits; and the public are coming to watch, so they clearly know how to organise a good show. I don't think we should underestimate them, but at the same time I'm not expecting them to be military strategists.

"You got something in mind?"

He looked enquiringly at Ivan.



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 Post subject: Ghosts of Weavers Past
PostPosted: 10 May 2010, 17:26 
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Ivan shrugged a shoulder, tripping over a step but catching himself. "Not without knowing the layout I'm afraid. Though it seems that it would helpful if we stirred up some discontent among the ranks or audience. By the looks of it the audience outnumbers the guards...troop...slavers...whatever the people with weapons are by a good bit."

The group reached the top of the steps and the bottom floor of the stands overlooking the arena below them. Ivan leaned on his uninjured leg to let some pressure off for a moment as he continued, "If we had the means without getting ourselves impaled in between, I'd say we get the crowd riled up at the...weapon people as the contestants are being marched out. Weapon people are distracted by having to deal with a mob, the doors to the lower areas are left open, nobody misses three extra people slipping through somewhere they should be easily captured anyway." He put his leg down again, "The only problem would be getting out again."



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 Post subject: Ghosts of Weavers Past
PostPosted: 12 May 2010, 10:50 
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Aldrich grinned at him. "Great minds think alike. I was thinking we want some kind of distraction."

A closed barrier obstructed their entry into the seating area. A steward stood with his back to them just beyond it. His body-language suggested boredom. Aldrich wandered up to the barrier and leant on it. The steward turned lazily towards him and gestured for him to move on.

"The way in's round that way," he added by way of explanation, pointing further down the corridor.

"I know. Just admiring the scenery." Aldrich assured him.

The steward turned back to resume his undemanding job of minding an unused doorway and gave the 'Weaver no further heed.

The lines of sight from this entrance, recessed between banks of seating, were somewhat restricted, but still gave a good view of a large swath of the opposite stand, and part of the arena floor. The main entrance was to their left, on the far side, and a steady flow of spectators was now drifting in and fanning out towards their chosen seat positions around the stands. A steward was checking tickets as they entered. A similar scene was in progress at two higher levels. At intervals around the arena, redundant entrances were being guarded by stewards, most of whom looked less than alert. Clearly, they expected little trouble from gate crashers. To his right, just within his field of vision, was what he took to be the contestants' entrance, and right beside that, in the lowest tier of seating, was a bar, which was already doing a brisk trade.

Hmmm... Alcohol and bloodsports. A heady combination. Give 'em a bit of time and they could be in quite a useful frame of mind...



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 Post subject: Ghosts of Weavers Past
PostPosted: 15 May 2010, 18:38 
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Aggravatingly bright lights hit Wolf's eyes as she was shoved out into the arena and the roar of the crowd crescendoed around her. Two of the arena guards, as well as the thin man in the leather jacket, accompanied her out. From the opposite side of the ring a similar door to the one they had come out of opened, and two more guards walked out, escorting a thickset, brutish looking man. He was shirtless and covered in almost florescent tattoos that moved as Wolf watched, rippling across his skin to form new shapes. He didn't appear all too bothered by the situation; in fact, he gave Wolf a foul grin and scraped at the dirt floor with his feet, as if eager to go. Wolf gave him an equally vicious smile in return.

"You're putting her up against Ravos?" one of the guards asked the thin man in a low mutter. "She's just a newbie. Should be going up against other newbies."

"That she should," the thin man replied, raising his hand to reveal a shiny golden coin clutched by fingers that looked as if they had been sewn back on several times. "But the slavers who brought her in said she took out a surprisingly large number of their guards when they got her. It's a gamble, but look at her; everyone's going to bet on Ravos and if she wins, we'll be rolling in it."

The guard grunted. "And if she loses?"

The thin man shrugged. "It's not like we paid that much for her anyway." He turned to Wolf, palming the gold coin as he did so. "Got a name, sweetheart?"

Wolf fixed him with her best death glare. It didn't seem to faze him. "Wolf," she said. "Now let me out of these shackles, you sonsabitches."

"Well, well, well," the thin man marveled. "Quite the temper, and quite the threatening moniker. Very well, Wolf it is. Although we may have to come up with something more original if you end up hanging around."

He turned before Wolf could reply and jogged over to the middle of the ring. He reached into a pocket of his jacket and pulled out an ancient microphone held together with duct tape and engraved with strange symbols that glowed sickly green. "Ladies and gentlemen!" he said into it, his voice magnified enough to reach over the hubbub of the crowd. The audience fell silent.

"Tooooonight!" the thin man yelled, "We have, for the entertainment pleasure of you fine, fine folks, a night full of the most glorious and bloodthirsty fighting, jousting, dueling, bashing, boxing, wrestling, KILLING that you could hope to see for such a low price as our fine gates request! Are you with me?!"

The crowd screamed back an incoherent affirmative.

"Alright!" The thin man raised his arms in the air, like any announcer entertaining a waiting crowd. He would have fit right in at a boxing ring or football game. "First out in the ring tonight, we have the as-yet-unbeaten, the brutal, the cold-hearted RAVOS!"

Ravos received a screaming chorus of applause in response. He smiled, strutting about a little as much as the chains would allow, even flexing his muscles.

"And on the other side, we have a NEW challenger, a warrior put forth by the Cable Street chain gang itself, the fierce and the feisty WOLF!"

The response was somewhat less enthusiastic this time. The crowd, obviously preferring Ravos, muttered and even booed at the announcer. Some others jeered or wolf-whistled. "Very well!" the thin man called out, smiling a smile that was entirely too sharp. "Have it as you will! Place your bets now, ladies and gentlemen, for our fighters are raring at the bit!"

As those in the crowd who had not already placed their bets hastened to do so, the guards removed the shackles from Wolf and Ravos, though they made sure to stick very close to their prisoners. Wolf flexed a little, cracking tired joints and rubbing her sore wrists. Now she was free, at least...but no, now was not the time to attempt an escape. She had no doubt she could take Ravos-she could probably even take out all four guards if she had to-but there were far too many people watching and waiting for this to be an ideal opportunity. Besides, her kill-sense was telling her that the thin man was far more dangerous than anyone else in the arena at the moment.

The crowd having finished placing their bets, the thin man yelled into the microphone to get their attention. The guards vacated the ring, exiting into the thick doors and slamming them behind them.

"Are you ready?!" the thin man yelled, and the crowd screamed back. "Let's get this show on the road!" the thin man replied, dropping into a quick bow. "ONE...TWO..."

On the count of, "THREE!" the thin man vanished in a puff of purple smoke, leaving Wolf and Ravos alone in the ring surrounded by a loud and bloodthirsty audience. Wolf cracked her knuckles.

"Let's dance," she said.


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 Post subject: Ghosts of Weavers Past
PostPosted: 15 May 2010, 20:49 
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Conner, Ivan, and Aldrich hung around the stadium seating as the greater audience arrived, using their timely arrival to their advantage and grabbing a ringside seat. The place was was a bit rowdy for Conner's taste, but even so, at the cost of feeling terribly guilty at the same time he felt himself growing excited with the eager hustle and bustle of the anticipating crowd as they placed bets and settled into their own seats. By the time Wolf was lead out into the arena--just their luck, first round--Conner felt like joining the group in their mad cheering. It was only the fact that his friend was down there in the chains that kept him grounded enough not to. As the announcer, appearing strangely and inexplicably magnificent to Conner's unique sight, gave his spiel Conner smirked at Aldrich and Ivan and reached into his pocket as he stood to face an approaching bookie.

"'Ey pal, what's the starting price for bets?"

The bookie looked at the blind man suspiciously for a brief moment, but must have quickly decided that money was money no matter the source. "Two pence, and it'll only go up from here. We're running high stakes bids all night."

Conner twitched about the mouth and hesitated for a moment before reaching to one of a half-dozen pockets on his pants and pulling out a watch. "How much'd ya say this is worth?"

The man didn't bother to hide is interest. "Five pounds."

"I'm a newb, not an idiot. Ten pounds at least." The man wrinkled his nose but snatched the watch with a curt nod anyway. "Name?"

"Conner. One C, two Ns."

"I'm not no idiot either."

"You sure aren't not, sir. I'll collect that back with my winnings afterward."

"Ten pounds on Ravos for Conner Number Four. Rear entrance to collect aft--"

"On the girl."

The man doubletook, "Pardon?"

"On that Wolf girl." The man shook his head but scratched through the record on his sketchpad notebook and went on, mumbling somethign about crazy eastern high-rollers. Conner merely flopped back in his seat and leaned back, spreading his legs and stretching his arms. He looked down to the scene below as the announcer vanished in a purple cloud as he spoke to Ivan and Aldrich. "So the plan is what exactly? Wolf trashes this guy and the crowd gets pissed off 'nough cause their money. Maybe she beats up a few personnel, and they'll just interested all over again. Can't see a reason for 'em to get riled at the slavers."



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 Post subject: Ghosts of Weavers Past
PostPosted: 16 May 2010, 09:24 
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"Unless they think the slavers are deliberately deceiving them. Conner, show me your betting slip and tell me quite loudly who you've bet on. We'll just have a pleasant little chat about why that other guy doesn't stand a chance. Let's spread a few rumours; maybe let them even think the fight's been rigged. If we can get them pissed off enough, I reckon all it'll need will be a catalyst, and I have something in mind..."

At Aldrich's insistence, the three 'Weavers had found themselves seats right beside the bar. Many of the spectators around them had been drinking steadily since they arrived, and were showing clear signs of being quite well lubricated by now. They had been growing increasingly noisy and vocal, breaking out into bouts of chanting, and arguing vociferously about the qualities of their various favourite fighters. When the first two had been led into the ring, a great cheer had gone up for the one who was apparently called Ravos, followed by boos and derisive laughter as Wolf was announced. Clearly no-one in this area was in the slightest doubt about who was going to win.



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 Post subject: Ghosts of Weavers Past
PostPosted: 03 Jun 2010, 15:54 
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Wolf had seen her friends do some pretty incredible things over the years she'd been with them. She'd spent hours upon hours practice dueling with a man who could defy gravity and move faster than the human eye could follow. She'd watched Conner hit targets with accuracy a hawk couldn't match, let alone a blind man, you would think. She'd seen Ivan, possessed by Shark, rip apart targets (sometimes living, sometimes not) with his bare hands...then revert back to Ivan, freak out, and run to wash the blood off. Compared to all that, her abilities weren't all that impressive. Hell, you couldn't even see when she was using them, not unless you knew what to look for.

Kravos didn't.

He charged forth like an obscene, tattooed bull, his dirty grin spread wide across his face. It was clear from his expression that he thought the fight would be over in minutes, if that. Wolf let him come until he was only a few feet away, then, as he put extra strength in his steps to launch a jump, leaped out of the way. It was pathetically easy. Kravos stumbled and almost fell, and Wolf took the opportunity to grab him by the disgustingly sweaty shoulder and vault herself up onto his back. Her kill-sense told her clearly that she would never overpower him by strength alone; he was simply too big. But she could easily outmaneuver him.

He bellowed in rage and confusion, twisting and turning to try to grab at Wolf and pull her down. The crowd laughed, enjoying the sight of Kravos struggling as Wolf moved back and forth, in and out of his field of vision. She really would have liked to have a weapon-if she did, she could finish him right now. But she had to work with what she had, which was her bare hands and more ingenuity than her opponent. She couldn't snap his neck-it was just too big and thick, he must be on steroids or something-and anyway, she didn't really want to kill him. But she could inflict some pain from here. She reached forward around his neck. As he craned his head to try and see her, she brought her hands in hard. There was a satisfying crunch and a pained howl from Kravos as his nose splintered and broke. She brought her hands together and whacked him in the back of the head, making him reel forward moaning while she took the chance to jump off. Wolf jogged to the other side of the arena. When she was sure he could see her, she twitched her fingers in the universal signal for bring it on.


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 Post subject: Ghosts of Weavers Past
PostPosted: 04 Jun 2010, 17:49 
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The fight had begun, and already Wolf was proving herself to be more agile and resourceful than her far heftier opponent.

Aldrich took Conner's betting slip and held it up, before handing it back to the younger 'Weaver.

"Yep," he declared in a gloating tone, and loudly enough to be clearly audible to the neartest punters, even over the roar of the crowd. "There are going to be a lot of poor suckers going home with empty wallets tonight."

As he finished, he stood up, looked the rough and somewhat inebriated fellow behind him clearly in the eye, and winked.

"They're playing you for fools, the lot of you, you know."

The man, clearly angered by this assertion, grabbed Aldrich by the collar of his coat.

"Who you callin' a fool?" he demanded.

Aldrich raised his hands in a gesture of mock surrender.

"Hey! Don't shoot the messenger, buddy!"

"Don' lishen to 'im, Jake," admonished the man's even more drunk companion. "'E's jush' tryin' a win' ya up.... Tha' gir'... Tha' girl... she'sh quick'n a', but she can'... she can' do nuffin' ta Ravos."

'Jake' tightend his grip on Aldrich's collar.

"You! What're you hidin' from us?"

"Hiding? I'd really love you to tell me when I did that," Aldrich retorted. "If you want hiding, I suggest you take a look at the gentlemen down there."

He gestured towards the guards at each entrance to the arena, and to the compere, who had rematerialised in what appeared to be a VIP box on the far side after vanishing from the centre. Various well-dressed individuals, who looked like they could be businessmen, occupied the box with him.

"I for one would be delighted to enlighten you about this girl, if you'd just care to release your grip upon my person."

Jake looked momentarily nonplussed, and then let his hands drop.

Aldrich coughed theatrically. "Gentlemen," he rasped, as he rearranged his scarf, "that girl down there is no newbie. I've seen her fight before. Many times. She's a pro. She may be small, but she knows what she's doing, and she's very skilled. That Ravos out there doesn't stand a chance. Size and strength are no object to her. She'll find a way through. I've seen her beat giants," he added for effect. Then he went on, "I bet the organisers of this event reckon they've got it made. Fool you all into thinking it's a foregone conclusion, then rake in all the cash."

By now a throng of about half a dozen had been attracted by this little confrontation, and others behind them were getting increasingly agitated, and yelling, "Siddown!" and "Get ouda the way!" One of the newcomers peered suspiciously at Aldrich.

"Ya don' look too trus'worthy y'self," he declared, "hidin' 'hind that scarf. let's see yer face."

He reached out to pull the scarf down. His hand never made contact. Before he knew what was happening, he was cannoning into the people behind, sending bodies flying. Aldrich stood stock still, his fist raised.

"Don't EVER touch the scarf!" he growled.

As the shocked recipient of his wrath struggled to his feet, two of his mates lunged at Aldrich, but the 'Weaver neatly sidestepped, causing one to fall headlong into the space between two rows of seats, and the other to land a roundhouse punch against the head of the person who suddenly found himself between the two opponents. By now the contretemps had garnered the attention of pretty well everyone in this section of the stand. Everyone was on their feet. Some were voicing their disgust at the trick played on them by the management; those who found themselves affected by the fallout from Aldrich's retaliation were yelling at the ones who had fallen on them, causing spilled drinks, spoiled clothing, or worse; the guy who had been punched punched back, and quickly a minor brawl broke out.



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 Post subject: Ghosts of Weavers Past
PostPosted: 28 Jun 2010, 15:32 
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Ivan turned his back on the brawl as the trio stepped discreetly away, instead focusing back on Wolf, who now looked poised to dissect Ravos like the multiverse's sloppiest surgeon operating on bony, tattooed hamburger.

Super...Smash...BROOOOTHERS! Brothers...

Feeling better, then?

Like you would care. You don't even CARE!

Yes, of course, I don't care. What was I thinking?


"Aldrich. The, uh, 'disagreement' isn't going to be voiced everywhere at once, and we're the only ones moving away from the management. Aren't they going to figure us out in rather short order? What happens when--" Ivan was suddenly cutoff by Conner's hand on his chest, stopping him.

"The Inquisitor is here."



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 Post subject: Ghosts of Weavers Past
PostPosted: 28 Jun 2010, 16:26 
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Aldrich was barely listening. As the three of them backed off from the developing chaos, he surveyed the scene and noted with satisfaction that even the nearest guards, down by the contestants' entrance, were looking up at the fracas.

"Hey! Don' think you can jus' walk out like that!" Jake objected, chasing after Aldrich and raising a fist threateningly.

"Oh, I think I can," Aldrich replied, clearly grinning beneath the red scarf. He stopped and let Jake catch up as another man, one of the few who didn't appear to be caught up in the argument, pushed past on his way to the bar.

"Those're my mates you took..." Jake suddenly stopped in mid sentence and felt his pocket.

Aldrich looked innocently at the pocket of the passer-by. "Didn't I see that wallet in your pocket a moment ago?"

Jake didn't stop to answer. He lurched after the man, seized him by the arm, spun him round, and punched him in the stomach.

"You filthy thief!"

In his anger and, he totally failed to notice that Aldrich had somehow got there well before him, and was standing behind his victim.

The man's eyes open wide in shock as he double over, clutching his midriff.

"You bloody idiot!" he wheezed. "What the hell d'ya think yer doing?"

"Give me back my wallet!" Jake yelled at him, grabbing him round the waist and trying to get a hand into his back pocket.

"I ain't got your bloody wallet, you madman." The man, having recovered a little from his winding, tried to push Jake away, and the two of them banged hard into the railings dividing the spectators from the arena. Aldrich, watching the confrontation with amusement, let the wallet fall from his hand to the ground behind him.

Within seconds the two men were engaged in a full-blown wrestling match against the railings. The 'thief" had Jake bent backwards over the top. A couple of spectators tried to separate them, and found themselves drawn into the fight. Others came to help them, and very soon it became a free-for-all, with the whole area filled with a brawling mass of humanity - and a few other species. The spectacle very quickly attracted the attention of stewards, who came running down from higher tiers to attempt to break up the melee, but the drink-fuelled, adrenalin-hyped and angry mob just turned on them too.

"Those railings aren't going to take much more of this hammering," Aldrich remarked to nobody in particular, and with that, he casually stuck out a foot, tripping up the wrongly accused thief, and sending both him and Jake tumbling over the top railing and landing in a heap on the arena floor right in front of the two gate guards. As the guards rushed to apprehend the two trespassers, the railing gave way for real under the pressure from so many heaving bodies above, and more brawlers spilled on to the ground, followed soon after by angry, drunk, or simply excited spectators eager to make their presence felt.

"Conner, Ivan," Aldrich called. "I think we may have an openi..."

He looked back to see Ivan and Conner staring across the arena. He followed their gaze.

"Ah," was his only utterance. But it looks like he too is watching the riot. If we're lucky, he hasn't noticed us yet. Should give us time to act....



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 Post subject: Ghosts of Weavers Past
PostPosted: 29 Jun 2010, 20:41 
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Ravos lifted his head, blood oozing and dripping down his face and off his chin. He gave Wolf a look that said clearly that he planned a terrible death for her if he could catch her...but Wolf wasn't so concerned about the big brute anymore. The noise from the audience had hit a new pitch. It sounded now like they were far more focused on bickering with each other than on watching the press-ganged gladiators fight it out in the arena below. Even the guards were distracted, nervously watching the crowd as fights began to erupt in the audience. Wolf saw a flash of red and smiled. Trust her friends to rile things up.

The fighting escalated until no one was paying the least bit of attention to the combatants in the arena, not even the guards. Wolf took the opportunity to hop the railings nearest her, attempting to weave her way through the crowd towards her friends. It was hard to see them in the mass of kicking, punching and flailing bodies, but Wolf just barely manged to track them by watching for Aldrich's scarf, the swinging strands of Conner's blindfold, and the bright silver of Ivan's pocketwatch chain. Judging by a particularly fierce sound she heard, he was having some difficulty keeping control of Shark.

Eventually the crowd actually broke through the railings and spilled into the arena previously occupied by Wolf. Ravos had long since vanished, no doubt shoved back into the filthy rooms inside the arena by the guards as soon as things got really ugly. They were looking for Wolf, too, but she was way ahead of them by now.

She'd finally almost caught up with her companions when there was a great and terrible noise like the flapping of wings. Exactly like the flapping of wings. Wolf looked up...


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 Post subject: Ghosts of Weavers Past
PostPosted: 07 Jul 2010, 17:40 
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As the three 'Weavers made their way through the crowd, Aldrich divided his attention between the Inquisitor and Wolf. She was no longer alone with her opponent in the middle of the arena. Once the fighting had spilled on to the arena floor, she hadn't hesitated to make use of the opportunity and had very quickly been swallowed up in the seething mass of bodies. He was at pains to avoid losing sight of her and he noted with considerable satisfaction that she appeared to have spotted them and was gradually making her way in their direction.

As she neared the the stands he stopped his two companions and turned to await her arrival. But at that moment a sudden movement on the far side drew his eye back to the VIP box. The inquisitor was no longer in his seat, but had risen into the air, carried aloft on his huge black wings. And he was coming across the arena on a trajectory that would carry him directly over Wolf's current position. Had he spotted her? Or them?

"Incoming!" he yelled to Conner and Ivan over the din, as instinctively his hand slid inside his coat and felt for the reassuring solidness of his pistol.



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 Post subject: Ghosts of Weavers Past
PostPosted: 13 Jul 2010, 09:39 
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Ivan felt a slight shudder work through him as he saw the Inquisitor headed in their direction. He'd lost sight of Wolf in the rabble, and while he wouldn't normally be concerned knowing Wolf, the sound of gunfire now greeted his ears. Either the arena owners were fed up enough to risk losing a few patrons or the Inquisitors guards were attempting to follow their leader. Or both, he couldn't tell. In the back of his head, Shark was strangely quiet but still very antsy.

If he gets here then--
YES!
Right...

Ivan leapt and dodged until he was right at Aldrich's shoulder rather than tailing him from behind. Twitching just barely perceptibly from Shark's influence, he pulled on Aldrich's arm.

"If we get pinned by the crowd, the Inquisitor and the arena owners, we don't stand a chance. If you retrieve Wolf, Conner and I can head straight to the exit from here and we meet up outside."

"You're sure you can make it through this?" he asked, indicating the crowds.

Ivan smiled and exposed some vampirish fangs, "Easily."



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 Post subject: Ghosts of Weavers Past
PostPosted: 13 Jul 2010, 17:45 
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Aldrich quickly nodded his approval to Ivan's plan, careful not to avert his eyes from Wolf for more than the merest fraction of a second, for fear of losing her amidst the heaving mass of bodies.

"You two get yourselves outside then," he rasped. "If we're likely to be facing off against Mr. Happy up there, I'd rather get ourselves some space anyhow. Too much danger of collateral damage in here. It cramps my style if I've gotta make sure I don't scuff the furniture or trip up some little old lady - even if the little old ladies in this place are probably bashing each other with their walking sticks in the midst of a drunken brawl."

A second later, Aldrich was gone, vanished out into the maelstrom that was the arena floor.



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 Post subject: Ghosts of Weavers Past
PostPosted: 13 Jul 2010, 22:25 
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Conner put his hand on Ivan's shoulder, "If we don't manage to push our way out of here quick, we're gunna have to fight behind us as we go. I think our happy betters have almost been punched over here."

Ivan returned the gesture and comment with a vicious smile. "Two things: Keep up, don't let him lose my cane--the CANE!"



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 Post subject: Ghosts of Weavers Past
PostPosted: 17 Jul 2010, 11:31 
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Aldrich was tempted not to use his powers and just push his way through the melee on foot. He wasn't sure what the Inquisitor's perceptive abilities were and didn't really want to risk attracting too much attention to himself by travelling across to Wolf through the air. At the speeds he was capable of, it was unlikely that any human would even notice him in the time it would take to reach Wolf, but the Inquisitor clearly wasn't human. However, he was already almost directly above Wolf. Any further delay and it might be too late.

So Aldrich rose up above the intervening bodies, blurred for a fraction of a second, and reappeared at Wolf's side.

"Time to go," he growled, grabbed her before she even had a chance to react, and shot off once again over the heads of the brawling masses.



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 Post subject: Ghosts of Weavers Past
PostPosted: 18 Jul 2010, 20:38 
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A sickening crunch of a shoulder blade was drowned out by a crow of triumph from Shark as his clawed hands pinned the last person between Shark, Ivan and Conner the open street to the stone wall between two relief sculptures. Now in full control, Shark darted his yellow eyes backwards for but a moment to check on Conner's progress. Shark was not sentimental, but neither was he stupid--he knew his odds of survival were considerably higher the more of the Weavers around him. And besides, Ivan always handled the jumping, Shark only having done so once or twice when he desperately needed out of somewhere. Still, Conner was a few beats behind so a quick bit wouldn't hurt anyone. Well the victim, but they didn't count.

Conner dodged a flurry of punches before landing a hit in the gut to the woman trying to herd him back into the arena as he heard Shark's triumphant cry, arriving moments too late to stop the demonic looking elf from taking a quick sip. He didn't bother to stop him , merely took a faltering step off to the side so he could finish more quickly. Conner and the others generally respected Ivan's wish that if Shark ever did bite someone, if they didn't know who it was then to let Shark finish rather than leave them half alive and have them convert. Luckily it only took a few seconds before Shark twirled around, pivoting on one leg and licked his lips of any spare drops.

"You're ready?"

Conner turned and started forward, "Yes, and you're done, so let's go. If we duck into one of the shops down the road thataways we can grab Aldrich once he gets out with Wolf--"

Shark didn't move, instead taking a strong standing stance. "Not an option."

Conner felt a prickle run down his neck as he turned just slightly to his left and saw a line of the Inquisitor's soldiers running up to meet them. The leading four or five looked odd, their helmets and gear looking as if they were lightly gilded, and they wore strange windings around their boots. Not to mention their guns looked like nothing short of miniature gunblades.

Ivan chipped up from the corner of Shark's vision, appearing as if he were facing the soldiers with Conner and Shark. Clearly the Inquisitor's elite. The elite! Shark crouched slightly, as if ready to pounce, as the soldiers stopped before them. Conner drew a little closer to Shark.

"Looks like those cell phones were busy... Now would be a great time for Aldrich and Wolf to pull a death from above..."

"So they can be shot instead of us? Brilliant wish."



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 Post subject: Ghosts of Weavers Past
PostPosted: 18 Jul 2010, 23:06 
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There was a moment of speeding color, a blur of motion as the world sped past Wolf's eyes. She heard Aldrich mutter, "Time to go," and away they went, wrapped up away from the speeding sky in Aldrich's flapping greatcoat. The alarm bells in Wolf's head, a thousand clambering words and directions telling her where to go, who to hit, how to kill, all faded away for the first time in hours and all she felt and heard was safe safe safe safe.

"Thanks," she muttered, grabbing him tight around the chest as the reality of how fast they were speeding away from solid ground sank in. Wolf drew in a breath, smelling the old mix of smoke and mint that always hung around Aldrich, and felt a little better. Aldrich wouldn't drop her.

He flew them up over the top of a nearby building and alighted gently on the rooftop. Wolf let go and walked, a little unsteadily, over to the edge to look down. Not far off, the massive fight in the arena raged, the brawl spilling out into the streets, but they seemed to be safe up on the rooftops for a while.

Then Wolf's kill sense kicked in and she stepped back just in time to see someone attempt to stab her in the face and miss.

Instinctively, she reached out and tripped him, sending him off the edge of the building. There was a strangled scream and Wolf, horrified, looked down and then quickly looked away before she saw the thud. There wasn't much of a chance to feel remorse, though, because more were coming up over the edge of the roof, impossibly.

"How are they getting up here?" Wolf yelled as Aldrich batted one away and grabbed her again.

"Fire escape?" he guessed dryly as he lifted off. Wolf, looking back as they flew across the rooftop and over the next one, saw the soldiers leaping and swarming across the gaps between buildings. Like an army of ninjas from a cheesy action movie, they kept pace with Aldrich and Wolf, even leaping up to try and grab at them. One of them caught on to Wolf's boot before she managed to kick him off and Aldrich took them a little higher.

"Well, damn," he muttered. "Things just never work out for us, do they?"


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 Post subject: Ghosts of Weavers Past
PostPosted: 20 Jul 2010, 16:09 
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Once Aldrich was out of reach of the pursuing soldiers, he paused and took the opportunity to look down and scan for Ivan and Conner. It was almost impossible to pick out any individual amongst the tumult going on down there, but he had a pretty good idea which exit they were making for so he focused his attention on the area around it...

...and was promptly distracted again by the sound of a bullet whistling past his ear, uncomfortably close.

"These guys really don't like the idea of us going out like this." He remarked with a wry smile at Wolf as he accelerated once again.

But in that same instant he also saw what he had been looking for. Right by the exit. Conner and - it looked more like Shark than Ivan - had come to a halt, confronted by a line of soldiers, with more streaming round from behind to block off their escape.

"Looks like our date will just have to wait," he said, grinning.

With that, he veered off to one side and swung round back the way they had come.

"Ready to fight?" he asked. "Of course you are. Get ready to be dropped off."

Then, accelerating to full speed again, he drew his sword and swooped in low over the heads of the troops who had Shark and Conner cornered. Soldiers dropped like ninepins as the ultra-accelerated blade strafed through their ranks at neck height. As Aldrich reached the front of the line, he veered off and slowed down to spare Wolf the physical trauma of an abrupt stop, before turning and dropping her lightly immediately behind her two male colleagues. Immediately, he shot off again for another attack.

His inrun had taken out a significant number of soldiers, but those not in the direct line of fire, together with the group of what he guessed were probably elites right at the front, had had time to take evasive action and were now ready to counterattack. Still, Aldrich's arrival had distracted them and divided their attention. Some were still steadfastly aiming their weapons at Conner and Shark, but many were now trying to target Aldrich himself, and bullets began to fly through the air. Aldrich swooped and turned, his speed making it very difficult for anyone to hit him other than by chance. He turned once again - and the next thing he knew, he had collided with one of the elites, who, to his astonishment, was up in the air at the same height as himself.



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 Post subject: Ghosts of Weavers Past
PostPosted: 29 Jul 2010, 09:00 
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As the elites lifted into the air after the suddenly arrived Wolf and Aldrich, they directed the apparently grounded other troops after their original targets, to which they responded with gunfire in Shark and Conner's general direction. Conner dodged, ever a step ahead, while Shark darted in the direction of a narrow street leading into the heart of the "Western Districts"--fantasy land.

"These soldiers couldn't hit a target if it were all ready dead!"

Conner didn't bother to respond as he ran after Shark, the soldiers following.
And the chase began.

The narrow street zigged and zagged indicating a hasty construction with absolutely no planning or zoning involved, but luckily did not fork--excepting the few even narrower and filthy looking alleyways--allowing Shark and Conner to run parallel to Wolf and Aldrich, who were now involved in some of half flight, half combat with the elites, who seemed to have some sort of super-jump magical ninjitsu on the rooftops.



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 Post subject: Ghosts of Weavers Past
PostPosted: 31 Jul 2010, 09:12 
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The sudden collision with the body in front of him sent both Aldrich and elite crashing down to the roof below them. The unexpected loss of control and the high-speed impact with the roof left Aldrich momentarily disoriented and not a little winded, but luckily his superhero body armour protected him from the worst of the crash. His opponent was less lucky. As Aldrich distentangled himself, still fighting for breath, he could see that the man was out cold and sprawled at a very unnatural angle. Almost certainly he had some serious fractures, despite wearing some protective clothing of his own. But he didn't have time to contemplate it. Already, other elites had made it on to the roof.

Aldrich forced himself up into a crouch, sending several loosened tiles crashing to the ground below, and pushed himself back into the air just as a spray of bullets peppered his vacated position. As he scooted along just above the buildings, he switched weapons, pulling out his trusty Cobolt7 pistol, and sent a stream of bullets back towards his pursuers. Their fire came to a temporary halt as they all flung themselves flat against the roof's surface to avoid the incoming shots.

Aldrich took the opportunity to check on his 'Weavers down below. Conner and Shark were clearly visible in a narrow, twisting alley. The many turns were hampering the soldiers' efforts to target them. It looked like they should be able to handle themselves for now. But where was Wolf? Was she following them, or taking a different route? He looked back to find her.



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 Post subject: Ghosts of Weavers Past
PostPosted: 07 Aug 2010, 20:57 
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Wolf landed on the ground with an abrupt thump. She very nearly stumbled and fell, a near-disaster considering how the soldiers stampeding like wildebeests would make it highly improbable she would ever make it back up. Luckily for her, she managed to keep her feet, and found herself tugged along with the insane, violent stream as inexorably as if she had been thrown into river rapids. Struggling to keep her balance in the confusion, she managed to stun a nearby soldier long enough to grab his weapon, which she then used to finish him off. She spared a quick glance at her comrades, long enough to yell, "Hey guys, long time no see!" and to notice the look in Ivan's eyes and realize he wasn't Ivan at the moment. In truth, while Wolf would have felt better in the company of her dear, shy, quiet friend, she felt rather better knowing it was Shark who had her back in a battle like this.

The three of them charged forward, running just to be able to keep their feet. Exactly where they were going, Wolf wasn't sure. She would have thought that they, the Weavers, were the ones being chased, but now they were running with the troops, so maybe nobody really knew. She took the opportunity to shoot or whack any soldiers she could, but even with her kill-sense it was hard to focus on much more than just staying upright.


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 Post subject: Ghosts of Weavers Past
PostPosted: 07 Aug 2010, 21:11 
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Shark snarled and paused for the half second necessary to be with Wolf, grabbing her and jerking her along in his direction.

"It works like this: you get somewhere you can use the gun, then actually use it. But I know how excited you get about having soldiers all over you."

The road took another sharp zag to the left, and Shark didn't bother to notice if Wolf would maintain her balance at the rapid change in direction as he let go of her to allow her to run on her own. Conner had apparently gained a bit of a lead on them, but his scent was still so overpowering so as to assure Shark he couldn't be more than a single corner turn away. They would likely run into him very soon, seeing how the road seemed to be widening, with more paths branching off of it now. There were more people as well, carrying torches and lanterns in the side alleyways and looking out their windows at the maelstrom of noise and destruction invading their storybook homes. It had to be near midnight, who the hell would be firing guns? Guns? Damn...Easterners of the Inquisition.

Shark yelled something incomprehensible as he caught a first glance of Conner's back.
He was just...standing there...



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 Post subject: Ghosts of Weavers Past
PostPosted: 07 Aug 2010, 21:26 
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Wolf gritted her teeth, repressing the part of her that wanted to throw Shark to the ground when he laid his hands on her. Not like it would work, as strong as he was, but it was a nice thought. The annoying thing about it all was that no matter what Shark did, when the battle had passed, he'd swap out with Ivan again, and you couldn't enact revenge on Ivan. Even aside from it not being his fault for what Shark did, he could give the most incredible puppy-dog eyes for a four-centuries old vampire gangster.

Shark ran on ahead, leaving Wolf to follow at the end. It didn't matter much anyway; no one was really trying to attack that that point. The road was emptying out, the soldiers at the end streaming away. They were getting to wherever it was they were going. Wolf tightened her grip on the gun. Somehow she knew there would be real fighting soon.

And then they were running the last few yards, and Wolf looked up, and she could see stars up above, instead of buildings. They were all running towards a great empty space, a town square of some kind. Like animals, a herd or a pack, a stampede. Boots thundered across cobblestones in one great big rush of people.

Wolf slowed down.

Before her, before them all, high up in the air was a figure in a long coat. Wolf almost would have thought it was Aldrich, but Aldrich didn't have wings.


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