Shadows Within

Not quite a fill chap, but not quite not. Short and sour, like a ukulele punch in the face-plate.

Fawnheart: Lol, it takes more than just a guy... it take's a momma's boy. Seriously, if i had as much testosterone as most other males, I think I'd lose my biting cynicism, and that's just not worth it. But yeah, it's a good gauge for my style. The one thing I notice now is how plain it seems that I didn't really know where I was going when I started... Just kinda, y'know, tripped and stumbled my way down to what it is now. Only now, I've got a plan. Somewhere. Maybe.

Also, I'm a bit anxious to know what anyone other than Fawn here thinks (not that I want you to shut up pleasedon'thateme). I'm inclined to believe I can take a bit of constructive criticisms and/or opinions... have before. Anyway, enough stalling outta me!

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Rohum cinched the last few straps of her armor, a sense of dread growing in her gut as she glanced at the gagged elf. "Can't have you ruining my plans," she muttered to the druid, who didn't even try to say anything in return. Something big was moving; she didn't know how she knew, she just knew.
The bounds of battle carried through the derelict vessel, proving her right in an instant. Rohum tensed, slinked to a corner near the door, and waited.

Taeweth batted the axe away with her staff, seeing the owner skewered on the warrior's spear shortly after, and focused her energy on keeping the warrior standing. Reinholt was a bastion of might, true, but the real testament to his skill was keeping the dozen or so bandits focused on him instead of the warlock who was raining death on them.
And from what she could guess, the younger human was enjoying it on some level. The druid didn't see anything on his face aside from stone-dead concentration, but the way his body shifted when one of them died held a minuscule air of pure satisfaction.
Yeah... definitely psychopathic material.

Raohum ignored the protests of her muscles as long as she could, shifting her footing by tiny increments to keep her balance and silence. She'd clambered up into a niche in the wall when the fighting stopped, two spare daggers in her hands laced with poison. Anytime now...
The first "trap" was simple, a very loose board with a rat underneath. The little buggers didn't seem to take the thought of being crushed very well, and she was familiar enough with their distinctive squeal of terror that she could hear it across a large house.
"SQEEEEEEEEEEK-" Crunch. Simple, but effective.

"What in..." Reinholt muttered, checking the floor.
"Sounded like a rat," the druid replied, scrunching her face. "Poor thing."
The warrior rose, hefting his weapon in one hand and scanning the hall. "Best be careful," he told them, edging forward. "I don't think we missed anyone, but-"
The blood of the Dawnfall was the only thing that saved its errant son; Reinholt's ears caught the sound of the axe hurtling towards him with enough time to throw one side of his body back, making a shallow nick of what would have been a death blow. Unfortunately, he didn't notice the black-painted javelin that had been launched out a gap in the door. The missile struck the plated gut of the warrior, but kept enough force to punch a small hole in the armor.

The warrior snarled with mild pain, tugging the small spear out of his side and glancing down the hall. "Great," he grumbled, "just... great."
Taeweth heard it this time; the clunking of gears nearby, soft but much too quick. She reached past Aneon, trying to get the warrior to duck, and was nearly concussed for the trouble as something large, cold, and not at all friendly clapped against her bovine skull.
The warlock saw her drop and heard Kolire shout "Master!", but didn't put the two together until the succubus shoved him against the rotting wall, taking the arrow in her throat that would have ended him. Aneon smelled alchemy in the air, then turned to shield his face in the seconds before the enhanced arrow exploded.

Reinholt had a good idea of the situation when the human behind him forced "Motherfucking clockworks!" through gritted teeth. He knew how close the warlock was to his odd crew of demons, and there was no better way to earn the young human's ire in record time.
He threw a glance to the druid, now back on her feet, albeit slightly unfocused, then tipped his head forward. "RUN!"
He heard the tauren follow at once, urged on by Aneon and the sound of many, many more cogs whirring, while the human waited a few paces before joining step. As his shoulder destroyed the pitiful excuse of a door, Reinholt threw his bulk into the room, turning mid-fall to face the ceiling, but not expecting the rogue to be as good as on top of him already.

Taeweth saw the warrior's arms bolt up to protect himself, catching the daggers in his arms rather than the chest. He convulsed and cried out in pain when they struck, which she knew was the effect of poison.
Rohum let the daggers go and rolled off, pulling another into her left hand as the right whipped up her cudgel from the floor. The tauren continued to run, but she slinked to the cow's left side, placing another lump on her head and hurling her at the wall.
As the warlock burst in, she made to dart around him as well, but an iron grip caught her ankle; she made the mistake of glancing down to the half-elf's face, and didn't see the warlock lower his sword.

Reinholt let go right before the human hit her, ramming the blade through her gut and somehow keeping enough momentum to force it into the wall. When he let go, heedless to the screams of pain from the woman, he balled a shadow bolt into his fist and punched her just under the ribcage; then, with a fit of savagery, began to literally beat her within an inch of her life with curses.
In truth, the only reason he managed to get that far was the warrior's difficulty finding his feet once more. As soon as he could stand, the half-elf hauled his ally out of further flailing arms' reach, shouting "Damnit, man, control yourself! We need information!"
With a pointed look from the warrior, Taeweth pulled the woman free of the warlock's blade, healing enough of her battered and bleeding form to stabilize her. By the time Reinholt had gotten the boy to calm down, the druid had her well enough to cringe in pain and eye the younger human with care as the two recovered their weapons.

"Be glad I don't have any say in this, woman," he fumed over his shoulder, "because I would have killed you, raised you, then killed you again at the very least!"
"Always so charming, Aneon" the warrior replied without mirth, before turning to the druid. "Now, let's get your friend out... and clothed."