The Tides Return

[16:00] Slow, heavy footfalls resound as Ryohr approaches and stops by the cells wall. He'd heard the fighting, the echoing of magic hitting flesh and the laughter that resounds thereafter.

Or perhaps it was just good timing.

There's a look beneath that masked, hidden attire he wore as eyes find the Pelleaux hidden within the cell.

"Claude. Vey. Pelleaux."
(Ryohr)
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[16:04] The Pelleaux's eyes narrowed as he looked at Lucian, of course the man was going to be difficult about it. The Nobleman's foot lifted for a moment only to rear back and kick the man across the face. The sound of his boot colliding with his captor's jaw echoing resoundingly.

"That's what I thought you'd s-say." The chill began to radiate from his chest once more as his rush of cosmic vigor began to fade. This wasn't what he'd hoped for in the slightest, a vent for his anger if nothing else.

"You Syndicates and you d-damnable fanaticism. You're fighting a w-war that cannot be won. Osrona has stood for nearly t-two thousand years it won't be brought low by a band of roaches scurrying under the e-earth."

His speech was interrupted as he looked up from Lucian, three magi? That was bad timing if ever there was some. The Nobleman's makeshift blade shifted from Lucian's neck to point at the new arrivals. His foot shifted though and took it's place. Pressing down hard as his strength threatened to crush the man's windpipe.

"I doubt any of you care enough for this man's life for him to be a bargaining chip?" A flush of cosmic power started to come alive as he spoke.
(Claude vey Pelleaux)
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[16:11] Well this wasn't something he was expecting to walk into, his plan to taunt the noble locked away in a cell ruined as he took in the sight of the Pelleaux's foot placed upon Lucian's throat.

Hand raised to scratch away at his jaw beneath his hood at the scene, seemingly uncaring as he approached to take a spot behind the trio, head tilting to the side as scarlet-hues peered.

"The whetstone decided to fight back I see."

Finally he spoke, snorting in amusement as he finished speaking, even though a boot continued to threaten to crush Lucian's windpipe, another step leading him slightly closer, body coiling up underneath the cloak.

Attention turning away from the hostage situation and towards the others around him, eyes searching for something for a moment before deciding to remain quiet after his taunt.
(Proteus)
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[16:15] Sibylle had heard a commotion - and naturally had come to such chaos, like an animal led to it's natural food source. The woman stepped around the corner, brown eyes staring before a smile cracked along her face. The woman stared, arms coming to cross as Claude attempted to bargain his way out of his fate.

"... Kill him," Sibylle purred out, a Cheshire-like smile spreading along her face slowly. "We'll just use him for our own devices. It makes no difference to me, Claude."

A hand settled upon her hip, as she marched her way up to the bars of the cell itself. A finger rose and she waggled it to and fro idly before a giggle spilled from her lips.

"Aren't you so angry? At what has happened? Here you are, a haughty and strong noble - reduced to nothing more than a prisoner that I actually came to play with!" She said, "Be angry at the card you have drawn, Claude Pelleaux. Be angry at where you are. Lash out to your heart's content until your heart beats. No. More."

It was just words, right? But perhaps it was something left unsaid, as Sibylle's brown eyes peered into Claude's own.
(Sibylle)
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[16:22] The Loa strides silently stepping past Sibylle and the others, into the cell. Starry hues of silver fall upon the fallen Lucien and Claude who stood above him.

A smile forms upon her lips as she folds her arms, a finger pressing to her lips as trails of golden mist trail from the tattoos that lines her illustrious form. An image of grace and nobility of her own kind, the star crossed dancer tilts her frame, black talons of ink adjust their hold upon her waist. Slithering unnaturally against her dark skin.

"I thought I smelt the throes of a fool calling to his star." Spoke Ororo, the radiance of a star personified.

"Yes, shed his blood and seal your fate. Truly he is your only hope of escape~"

Her tone is dreamy a voice that seems to echo at the edge of hearing and thought combined, hanging thick in the air like the sudden shift in pressure. As if the Loas two silver hues carried the weight of countless many. Unnatural tendrils of unseenwillpower poke and prod at the stirring emotions.

"Show us what animals you nobles trule are."
(Ororo Boros)
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[16:38] The Pelleaux's eyes narrowed into golden slits as they looked past the bars to Proteus in the background. His body groaned in pain at the water magi's sight, razor thin cuts from his rip-tide magics.

"I-I'll watching you hang amid the clamor of Osrona." It was a threat to be sure, the nobleman's stance shifting slightly. His crude nyeshk blade pointing towards the door as she did so. A glance was offered to Lucian, making sure the man was still dazed from the kick across his jaw.

Then he heard the other two magi who'd arrived, the women. It was quickly obvious to him that he was dealing with witches. There sing song voices causing his skin to crawl, it wasn't natural the way they spoke. To someone who'd learned to astral walk long ago he'd recognize it wasn't only physical words fully being spoken.

Though, that realization was easier to realize considering her heard them so clearly. All else echoed in his mind, the loss of his ear having left sounds distorted and muted. Twisted from what the should be. Slowly he spit blood upon the ground clearing his throat. "Witches, o-of course these Syndicate roaches would seek the infernal for t-there aid."

His words echoed evenly as he brought the blade up. A scowl settling upon his features were once there had been an amicable smile. They'd tossed aside Lucian without a care in the world of course they had. He was a fool and weak, just a pawn in the great games. That's when he felt something, those sing song words seemed to echo in his mind.

A bloodied hand, scorched with the artistic flames of the serpent was brought up to cup his head. What was happening? It was a swift shift in the man, as if a switch had been pulled. With a burst of power his foot shot downwards, crushing Lucian's throat at the same time the Pelleaux launched himself across the gap.

Expressions had shifted from his face as his movements began, no longer having the worthwhile to mimic the emotions he viewed upon others for so long. NO, he'd only one goal at the moment and it was to slay his captors. The closest magi was his first target as his form burst into a blazing inferno of raw cosmic power.
(Claude vey Pelleaux)
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[16:39] For the launching off of Lucian's throat and to attack Ororo.
(Claude vey Pelleaux)
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[16:41] Sibylle says, "Teehee."
[16:41] boo
(Proteus)
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[16:47] {Item} You drop The Desperate.
[16:47] {Item} You picked up The Desperate. Dropped by Claude vey Pelleaux. .
[16:48] Clearly the duo of Sibylle and Ororo weren't going to be much help when it came to actually keeping Lucian alive, the duo of women looking to antagonize the Noble even further.

Although he too didn't keep things safe for the hostage, a taunt of his own already thrown out in the moment. His head visibly shook beneath the hood at Claude's words, chuckle freely sounding out from his mouth.

"I think your be losing your tongue next."

Index-finger poised to point towards the missing ear, clearly hinting at another punishment coming the Pelleaux's way. Hues lit up as mana was freely pulled from his soul, magical circuits linked together to cast. Water tendrils, volatile in nature started to reveal themselves behind Proteus's form.

Too late to intervene with the crushing of Lucian's throat, but he was within distance to clash with the noble in the defence of Ororo, tendrils looking to lash out and strike against the noble's body.

"Again, whetstone. Let's sharpen ourselves once more."
(Proteus)
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[16:49] The Loa chuckles, unmoving by the sudden attempt at an attack. Softly she tilts her head, a finger pressed playfully upon a devilish smile.

Serpentine tendrils of ink slither against dark skin, talons of black upon her waist move visibly as if they were being prevented from intervening.

"The Noble thinks himself above roaches." She coos, watching as Proteus burst past her following the tilt of her head.

"However, Claude."

When she speaks his name there is a certain weight to it. As if that mention of his moniker was enough to tug at the soul beyond the already tangible pull at his senses that came from her very presence.

"Even the majestic firefly is just that.. An Insect." A subtle shift to her tone, a certain venom to the dreamy lull in her voice.
(Ororo Boros)
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[16:54] ** Proteus has inflicted an injury upon Claude vey Pelleaux. ("Temporary Injury", "Temporary Injury", "Temporary", "Duration: Medium (4 days)") **
[17:05] It was clear the noble was at a disadvantage. His form already littered from past wounds inflicted by the group when he had been captured, and being locked in that small cell hadn't done the Pelleaux any favours.

But it was still a hassle to face for the water-magi, Claude's speed constantly keeping him on his toes as he seemingly teleported across the cavern every now and then, Proteus's form instinctively disappearing into a cloud of mist when he next came.

Already his next spell was thought of, body forming to the side of the noble, hand raised with his palm facing towards Claude, scarlet-hues brightening even more as mana freely flowed.

Discs of cutting water appeared around the arena, locking onto the swordsman form and giving Proteus ample time to set up the finishing move, the head of a mighty beast forming first.

Maw widening as the dragon formed of water dove forward, crashing into the Pelleaux, slamming the cosmic-magi into the ground.

"..What do you wish to lose next, Claude?"

The first time he had actually used the man's name, slow steps leading him towards his subdued opponent, finally arriving by his form, boot making its way to be placed on Claude's throat.

The mercenaries head dipped ever so slightly, smile curled upon his lips as it revealed itself underneath his hood as he peered down towards Claude, foot applying pressure.

"Funny how things change. Someone's boot is on your throat this time."
(Proteus)
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[17:07] Sibylle watched it with rapt attention, even as the focus of her spell had fallen in battle - it didn't mean she still couldn't have her own fun. At Proteus' question regarding what he wished to lose next, the young woman leaned forward and giggled,

"Give me his tongue!" She cheered out, "I need it for... Strategic purposes!" She exclaimed. Now her eyes lingered upon Claude, a delicious smile coming to her features as her eyes bored a hole through him. "I wonder if you'll scream like Nemein did when I killed him..." She trailed off before eventually shrugging. She just wanted the noble's tongue after all.
(Sibylle)
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[17:12] "And just like an insect.. Easily crushed."

Ororo takes an elegant stride to land infront of Proteus and the fallen Claude. She raises a hand gently towards Sibylle, what she said and demanded was well and good however the Loa had further taunts in mind.

"Funny how the serpent bites the hand who holds it only to get crushed by its grip." She looks down upon him, smiling as wisps of golden light trail along her every breath.

"Yes, take his tongue. Nobles oft talk so very much. Especially those stricken by the stars." There was a final distasteful tinge of venom in her dreamy tone. She did so despise worshippers of Leonaus and their incessant ramblings and pointless altruism.

"No.. Let him live, there are fates far worse than death and he is of far better use to us with his soul intact." She spoke, more to Sibylle than anyone else, though her dreamy tone held its command to the air.

"For now."
(Ororo Boros)
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[17:20] The fighting went as the first time had, though he'd do markedly poorer. No doubt his body starting to give up in wasy his will hadn't just yet. Those watery lashes across his chest racked him with pain as he hit the ground. At this rate he'd not have a torso left. The feeling of pressure on his throat eliciting a cough from the man as his breathing became that much more difficult.

"Don't g-gloat to me scum!" The power of the witches magic was still coursing through his body and he brought his hands up to grip the man's boot. Clearly trying to keep it from crushing any further as well as to try and push him off. Yet, not even the infernal push of Sibylle's could give that kind of strength back to his flagging body.

His gaze flicked to the side as he heard Sibylle speak, listening to her for a moment. Strategic purposes? What foul sorceries did these hel-aligned have planned? Though at her words of screaming the manalmost chocked, helped by the boot.

"You killed N-Nemien?" A wheezing that might have been a laugh escaped his breath. "I o-owe you some coin then." He didn't say how much coin but the man's hatred of Nemien was fairly well known within Osrona. As he spoke the Hex began to ease and with it his energy weakened.

His focus shifted half-hearing Ororo as she spoke. He'd barely heard the reference to a firefly before. A... Enjoyable reference if he was to be honest. A half smile crossed his features as he listened to Ororo.

"Opiuchus' grip is true." It was a bit cryptic but the constellation that marked the sky wasn't hard to see to those who knew where to look. Then his attention shifted back to the man whose boot pressed against his throat. "S-sounds like your masters have spoken." It wasn't that he'd a desire to lose his tongue but he knew what this was.

If possessions had been reversed he'd have likely desired the same thing.
(Claude vey Pelleaux)
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[17:22] Ryohr looks down upon the defeated noble. Wracked with countless injuries and fatigued from the countless battles and breakout attempts.

"There's no point keeping him without his tongue," he merely says, but doesn't make any movement to stop it.
(Ryohr)
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[17:23] Ororo Boros says, "Says the man who cannot speak to the mind."
[17:24] Ryohr says, "Exactly."
[17:24] Ryohr says, "We can't all talk to the mind."
[17:24] Claude vey Pelleaux says, "Most don't have a mind to speak to."
[17:24] Ororo Boros says, "A Shame, really."
[17:24] Sibylle asks, "Oh? You owe me coin?"
[17:24] Sibylle says, "It was an easy task, honestly. Magibane a man and he can hardly even stand up straight, much less wield a sword."
[17:25] Sibylle says, "But I do so love taking things from people."
[17:25] Claude vey Pelleaux says, "Mhm, magibane... Trusted you? Bigger fool than I'd thought."
[17:26] Sibylle says, "Well I -am- pretty adorable in a collar."
[17:26] Ororo Boros says, "Yes. The poor sod is to be kept alive, however tear out his tongue and relieve him of his belongings."
[17:27] Ororo Boros says, "Let him shiver nude if need be."
[17:27] Sibylle says, "Lewd."
[17:27] Proteus says, "Shut up."
[17:27] Proteus says, "Surrounded by degenerates all the time."
[17:28] Sibylle says, "Awww! Don't be so mean. You'll make me -cwy-."
[17:34] Boot remaining on the noble's throat as the duo of witches started to speak, frown marring his visage as his head turned towards Ororo, those words of command worsening his mood.

"I hope that wasn't to me sweetheart."

Words leaving his lips, and then his attention was returning back towards the downed Claude, snort leaving his nose as the boot upon the Pelleaux's throat pushed down as a hint of warning.

"Soured my mood even more. Lucky for us all you won't be able to yap anymore, your words will be missed."

Proteus's body shifted slightly, boot leaving Claude's neck to start to move to a crouch beside the noble, fist lashing out to clash into the man's stomach, a sudden swift attack out of seemingly no where.

Free-hand reaching forward to wrap around Claude's throat, slamming his head backwards into the cavern's floor.

His other hand's finger and thumb reached out to dig into the captives mouth, tongue now gripped, and then the pulling began. Scarlet hues lighting up, mana flowing as he uncaringly continued to pull till the tongue was ripped free, blood freely spurting.

"Someone's going to need to make sure he doesn't bleed out."

Casual words for the situation, tone detached as the hand that now held his trophy flicked out, blood falling onto the cavern's floor. Raising to a stand, his head turned towards Sibylle remaining their past words.

"How much for his tongue?"
(Proteus)
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[17:35] Sibylle offered a wry smile, eyes twinkling as Proteus actually pulled free the tongue of one Claude Pelleaux. At his question of how much it was worth, the woman's head dipped to the side.

"HMMM!!!.... I'll make you free potions, how about that?" She asked, eyelashes batting as she walked forth, closer.
(Sibylle)
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[17:39] She watched, ignoring his comment and merely smiling at the sudden butchering of the noble. She sought to stir the emotions further and had done so.

What she had said was not command, simple foresight and suggestion. However anyone could take it as they would. She was well aware of Syndicate goons tendencies to take unkindly to authority, it was the entire basis of an organization after all.

Finally, she chuckles lightly as she saw the sudden disdain in the mans visage.

"Now now, we are all friends here~"

"Though, it is rather unwise to leave a man whose tongue you just tore from him with his weapons."

Slowly, she tilts her head towards Sybille and nods.

"Make this quick, we have somewhere to be."

"Hands to hold~"
(Ororo Boros)
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[17:41] At either the best or worst time, Hatchet ambles in. The figures shoulders are hunched- but not thanks to the burden of the usual, trademark axe.

Rattling, rasping breaths filter through the mask and the air shimmers around them...strangely.

They stand removed from the gathering, watching with their eyes and face angled downward.
(Ita Waters)
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[17:45] Proteus says, "Not interested in potions, already know plenty of alchemists."
[17:45] Proteus says, "Coin. Give me coin."
[17:45] Ororo Boros asks, "How about two thousand?"
[17:46] Ororo Boros says, "We have places to be~"
[17:46] Sibylle says, "We'll pick this up later, I suppose."
[17:46] Proteus says, "Uh-huh. The tongue won't be going anywhere."
[17:46] Sibylle says, "Neat-o."
[17:46] Ororo Boros says, "Very well~"
[17:46] Ita Waters says, "..."
[17:47] ** Proteus has inflicted an injury upon Claude vey Pelleaux. ("Tongue Twister", "Ruthless in manner, the tongue within Claude's mouth ripped out of his mouth by the finger and thumb that pulled it out, the Pelleaux could only hope a medic would actually look over the injury.", "Permanent", "Severity: MINOR (-5 VIT)") **
[17:48] So began the pain once more, it was clearly hard for the man to handle. To his unfortunate credit, however, he would be awake for the act. Feeling the hand of Protues reaching into his mouth and pulling free the tongue. Ripping it free, no doubt by the gush of blood that spilt from his mouth this was what you'd call a bad move.

If you wanted him to live anyways. Since the tongue's removal caused the likelihood of bleeding out to increase exponentially. Those hands came up to cover his mouth for a few moment's as his vision blurred. This wasn't a chance for cheeky comebacks or valiant resolve. No this was the struggle of a magi's body to keep it from dying as a normal mans would have already.
(Claude vey Pelleaux)
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[17:50] Newly acquired tongue held within his hand, Proteus's attention turned towards the newly arrived Ita. Such perfect timing for a medic to appear, free-hand waving out towards the woman as she approached.

"Can you help him out?Please."

Eyes rolling underneath his hood at the final word, recalling her past reprimand when they last spoke.
(Proteus)
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[17:52] Hatchet pauses. The air around her writhes momentarily with something unseen. Though her face is concealed behind a mask...

There is something in the way she walks, marching purposefully towards Proteus.

Only to lift her hand and strike him soundly across the face with its back. There's a harsh slapping noise that echoes through the cave. Followed by a question that wheezes harshly through the mask.

"Why?"

A question, yes, yet the way it is voiced demands an authoritative answer. Immediately.
(Ita Waters)
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[17:53] On his spot on the ground the half-dead man saw an opportunity, it wasn't a good one but he saw it. His foot flitted into light and shot up to kick Proteus right in his gut. If he was going to lay here and die he was going to go kicking and 'screaming' all the way to the grave.
(Claude vey Pelleaux)
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[17:55] ..
(Proteus)
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[17:57] His own hand raised in retaliation, looking to deflect the incoming hand towards his face away, tints of anger appearing within his eyes beneath the hood.

"Really?"

A single word, the palpable anger evident as he spoke.

"He tried to escape, crushed this idiots throat. And when I've finally subdued him you come and strike me?!"

The tendrils behind his back continuing in motion, a single step had him closing in on Ita, Claude forgotten on the ground as he kept his attention on the woman.

A mistake on his end.

Foot slamming into his gut, steps taken backwards from the sudden blow as he stared towards Claude, eyes flickering towards Ita for a moment before returning back to the captive.

"Good job."

It was clear who he was speaking to, snort sounding out as he remained a few steps away from the noble. It was Ita's problem now.
(Proteus)
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[17:57] Clap clap
(Ita Waters)
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[17:59] Claude fucking gurgling sounds.
(Claude vey Pelleaux)
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[17:59] Claude but he was smirking, at-least.
(Claude vey Pelleaux)
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[18:00] In spite of his attempt to deflect, the hand collides with his cheek. That's going to smart.

"Did none of you search him for a weapon?" the hooded, masked figure snaps back. Normally she is cooler, calmer, more composed. Something has her muddled and riled. The air around her continues its strange, twisting and warping dance. Like heat shimmer over a distant sand dune.

The noble is Hatchet's problem now. Her voice goes to something more level, but still made raspy by the gas mask's breathing apparatus. She squints at him from behind the ruby red lenses.

"...I'll take care of him. Hold still."

The former is to Proteus. The latter to the gurgling noble.

"Take his actual weapon this time."

She waits for the noble to stop his struggling. Then she can do something about this...situation.
(Ita Waters)
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[18:06] Arms crossed over his shoulder as he watched on, a swift reply leaving his lips towards Ita's question.

"I haven't been near him since we last caught him. Walked in on him having his foot on Lucian's throat. Blame the two witches."

Hand waving dismissively as his occupied one pocketed the newly gathered tongue, steps taken forward when she prepared to attempt to heal him, his tendrils never disappearing.

"Next time I won't bother interfering, let him run wild around the base."

Clearly he was still mad, hand reaching forward to take away the nyeshk sword that the noble somehow had found, and he wouldn't stop at that, ripping the ring off the man's finger too.
(Proteus)