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Post by jliessa44 on Jul 22, 2016 1:52:49 GMT
Beck nodded absently. "Maybe during a dance?" ----- "Have your answer yet?" She chuckled moving to dodge the feint.
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Jul 25, 2016 7:18:32 GMT
Kell cracked the door and peered through the gap. Glance to the left. Glance to the right. "I think the coast is clear." He opened the door fully and held it for Gali. "Again, ladies first?" __________ "Oh, it's fine." Brune dashed into the shop, filling a basket with the worst of his merchendise: sporks, eggcups and a set of table knives shaped like miniature shardblades. "I'm used to playing chull. Actually, I rather enjoy it. There's nothing quite as reassuring as the weight of your wares." Shouldering the basket, Brune set off in the direction of the camp. ___________ The crowd parted, and Ollin spied Nathin. Rust and Ruin! The enemy mistborn was coming down like a bolt of lightning. Weaving through the spray of coins, she dashed in front of Nathin and raised her stone dagger, blocking the duelling cane. ___________ Jove stepped aside, allowing the Coinshot to zip past, then sliced at his back. ___________ Feigning nonchalance, Rivven retreated from the group. He found a small room at the back of Calden's hideout, leaned against the wall, and slowly sank to the ground. Well. That worked. The rest of the job should be simple. Compared to a roomfull of older, experienced Mistings, swindling Nenva seemed fairly straightforward. Gali crooked an eyebrow at him. "You must have severe memory loss, Romnau. The first time you held the door for me there were Inquisitors behind it. The second time I kicked you through." She folded her arms. "You're going first. If you drop dead from a flying coin, I get the victory of living a few seconds longer."
Daradin glanced at his conscript's uniform. He blew out a breath and shed the blue jacket, under which his off-white shirt showed sweat rings and a few trace flecks of blood. He bundled up the jacket and cast it into Brune's shop, then limped after the merchant. He cast a glance over his shoulder. Windrunner snorted at him and snapped at a tuft of grass which instantly retreated into the ground. Daradin rolled his eyes. "Windy. It would be great if you'd follow, but please keep out of sight." The horse pricked its ears but made no move to follow. Temperamental beast. Daradin glared at it, then turned his back on the horse, set his teeth and followed Brune in the direction the Shardbearer had departed. Early next morning, Javavoh's camp spread before them, a collection of Soulcast stone huts with thousands of people evident even from the distance. A group of soldiers had mustered off to one side. Daradin rubbed his throbbing leg and gritted his teeth. "Tell me again why I decided to come with you."
The Mistborn's glass dagger shattered on Ollin's stone knife, spraying the skaa woman with crystalline shards. He growled, drawing another dagger in the same breath, and stabbed at her neck. Pewter enhanced his movement.
The Coinshot's speed helped him evade Brune's strike. He released the coin, letting the flattened piece of metal fall to the ground, and spun toward Brune whirling his duelling cane.
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Post by Lylyss on Jul 29, 2016 23:03:04 GMT
((Hey everyone: I know that my RPing has been pretty inconsistent. I'm sorry if I've held your plots back, but unfortunately, my free-time is about to become even more constricted. College starts in just a couple of weeks. I don't want to be stressed about all the plots I must reply to, or worrying that you guys are getting frustrated--so it's probably best for everyone if I retire from RPing. This creates several obvious problems, especially with the heist plot. Would somebody be willing to adopt Rivven? I never had the chance to develop his story, so you can do whatever you want with him. We just need somebody to take over as crew leader. Kell presents a similar challenge, and again, I'm looking for somebody to adopt him. He's not very developed. His motivation so far: make life difficult for Gali. ;) I only ask that you continue my "ladies' first" tradition. Ollin, Jove and Brune are going to be resolved in-story. I must say, I'm really going to miss them.))
"You came because it's the right thing to do!" Brune firmed his jaw and raised his head, speaking with the zeal of a martyr. "We're going to save the girl, Daradin. Save the girl and sell a couple of sporks in the process. This is honor. This is heroism!" He paused at the edge of the camp, looking from right to left. "Where do you suppose we'll find the brightlord?" _________________
She had broken the dagger. Good. Glass shattered in her face. Bad. Ollin raised a hand, shielding herself from both the shards and the second dagger, and felt a hot shock of pain in her forearm. At least it's not my neck. She staggered back with a growl, flaring Pewter.
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((O.o Now Brune is on Scadriel? #Hoid))
A pox upon Coinshots. Jove ducked beneath the dueling cane and stabbed at his adversary's middle--but then he heard a familiar growl of frustration. Mommy? No, he corrected himself. Pathetic Skaa Woman. Whatever the case, she was grumpy. Jove had come to associate that growl with childhood spankings.
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Jul 30, 2016 8:33:14 GMT
"You came because it's the right thing to do!" Brune firmed his jaw and raised his head, speaking with the zeal of a martyr. "We're going to save the girl, Daradin. Save the girl and sell a couple of sporks in the process. This is honor. This is heroism!" He paused at the edge of the camp, looking from right to left. "Where do you suppose we'll find the brightlord?" _________________ She had broken the dagger. Good. Glass shattered in her face. Bad. Ollin raised a hand, shielding herself from both the shards and the second dagger, and felt a hot shock of pain in her forearm. At least it's not my neck. She staggered back with a growl, flaring Pewter. _________________ ((O.o Now Brune is on Scadriel? #Hoid)) A pox upon Coinshots. Jove ducked beneath the dueling cane and stabbed at his adversary's middle--but then he heard a familiar growl of frustration. Mommy? No, he corrected himself. Pathetic Skaa Woman.Whatever the case, she was grumpy. Jove had come to associate that growl with childhood spankings. Daradin scowled at him. "All right. I get it. Gallant rescue. Brightlord—look for the largest tent with the biggest number of soldiers in the closest to the middle of the camp. That's where I'd guess. So, straight forward." He hesitated. "What's a spork?"
The Mistborn flared brass then zinc, first dulling Ollin's grumpiness then enhancing it—a move intended to distract her while he stabbed low with his glass knife under her upraised arm.
((Rusting Ruin. That was not what I meant to say.)) The knife laid the Coinshot's ribs bare. The man howled and brought his duelling cane down at Jove's head—now much closer than before—in a typical display of vengefulness.
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Post by Lylyss on Aug 3, 2016 9:34:49 GMT
Daradin scowled at him. "All right. I get it. Gallant rescue. Brightlord—look for the largest tent with the biggest number of soldiers in the closest to the middle of the camp. That's where I'd guess. So, straight forward." He hesitated. "What's a spork?"
The Mistborn flared brass then zinc, first dulling Ollin's grumpiness then enhancing it—a move intended to distract her while he stabbed low with his glass knife under her upraised arm.
((Rusting Ruin. That was not what I meant to say.)) The knife laid the Coinshot's ribs bare. The man howled and brought his duelling cane down at Jove's head—now much closer than before—in a typical display of vengefulness. ((Lol. I figured. ;) )) "A spork is a bad investment. It just wastes time, money and shelfspace." Brune continued through the camp, glancing anxiously from side to aside. "Although... now that I think about it, Kisma might not be in the Brightlord's tent. She's probably under guard somewhere." __________ Look on the bright side! The sun is shining and there's a perky summer breeze!Where did that thought come from? There's no hope in the world. Everything is awful. I'm probaby going senile--Or somebody was messing with her emotions. Unfortunately, by the time Ollin had recognized the affects of brass and zinc, the Mistborn's dagger was en route to her stomach. Only a sharp twist to the side saved her from mortal damage. She was still hurt, of course. But it was a flesh wound. No bones or vital organs were damaged. With another pulse of Pewter, she could still keep fighting. While the mistborn's arm was still lowered from his strike, Ollin stabbed at his heart. __________ Jove bobbed around the dueling cane and, with a gallant ha-HA, lunged for the Coinshot's belly.
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Aug 5, 2016 20:08:44 GMT
"A spork is a bad investment. It just wastes time, money and shelfspace." Brune continued through the camp, glancing anxiously from side to aside. "Although... now that I think about it, Kisma might not be in the Brightlord's tent. She's probably under guard somewhere." __________ Look on the bright side! The sun is shining and there's a perky summer breeze!Where did that thought come from? There's no hope in the world. Everything is awful. I'm probaby going senile--Or somebody was messing with her emotions. Unfortunately, by the time Ollin had recognized the affects of brass and zinc, the Mistborn's dagger was en route to her stomach. Only a sharp twist to the side saved her from mortal damage. She was still hurt, of course. But it was a flesh wound. No bones or vital organs were damaged. With another pulse of Pewter, she could still keep fighting. While the mistborn's arm was still lowered from his strike, Ollin stabbed at his heart. __________ Jove bobbed around the dueling cane and, with a gallant ha-HA, lunged for the Coinshot's belly. Daradin massaged his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Yeah. Like, maybe there." He nodded toward a tent. "Or there." The tent adjacent. "Or even somewhere on the other side of the camp. Who knows? Not me. So I suggest we go for the Brightlord first." He gave a painful chuckle without much humour. "See if we can sell things. And if he recognises us from in the heat of battle."
Ollin's dagger tore the Mistborn's black tunic and drew blood. He slid back, cursing, flaring pewter to cover the pain. Iron hubcaps on a carriage in the distance behind Ollin tore from their holdings and shot toward the old lady's back.
The Coinshot Pushed away as Jove's dagger painted a red line across his stomach. He scrabbled in his coin bag for coins, found none, and set his feet defiantly, duelling cane extended and ready.
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Post by Lylyss on Aug 7, 2016 4:37:12 GMT
"A spork is a bad investment. It just wastes time, money and shelfspace." Brune continued through the camp, glancing anxiously from side to aside. "Although... now that I think about it, Kisma might not be in the Brightlord's tent. She's probably under guard somewhere." __________ Look on the bright side! The sun is shining and there's a perky summer breeze!Where did that thought come from? There's no hope in the world. Everything is awful. I'm probaby going senile--Or somebody was messing with her emotions. Unfortunately, by the time Ollin had recognized the affects of brass and zinc, the Mistborn's dagger was en route to her stomach. Only a sharp twist to the side saved her from mortal damage. She was still hurt, of course. But it was a flesh wound. No bones or vital organs were damaged. With another pulse of Pewter, she could still keep fighting. While the mistborn's arm was still lowered from his strike, Ollin stabbed at his heart. __________ Jove bobbed around the dueling cane and, with a gallant ha-HA, lunged for the Coinshot's belly. Daradin massaged his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Yeah. Like, maybe there." He nodded toward a tent. "Or there." The tent adjacent. "Or even somewhere on the other side of the camp. Who knows? Not me. So I suggest we go for the Brightlord first." He gave a painful chuckle without much humour. "See if we can sell things. And if he recognises us from in the heat of battle."
Ollin's dagger tore the Mistborn's black tunic and drew blood. He slid back, cursing, flaring pewter to cover the pain. Iron hubcaps on a carriage in the distance behind Ollin tore from their holdings and shot toward the old lady's back.
The Coinshot Pushed away as Jove's dagger painted a red line across his stomach. He scrabbled in his coin bag for coins, found none, and set his feet defiantly, duelling cane extended and ready. Ah. Good point. Brune nodded in agreement, approaching the largest tent. "I guess we'll go undercover as door-to-door salesmen?" ____________________ Jove performed a beat: he tensed his thumb and forefinger upon the hilt of his dagger, which made the blade smack against the coinshot's dueling cane. The technique was subtle but firm, intended to knock the enemy's weapon out of alignment and create an opening for Jove to lunge with his knife. Which he did. Aiming for the heart. ____________________ Whistling. Something was whistling through the air. Ollin pulsed Iron on instinct, but found that the objects were too large to repel, so she dropped to the ground and allowed the hubcaps to sail overhead. Straight toward the rival Mistborn.
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Post by Leilani Sunblade on Aug 8, 2016 1:12:17 GMT
((Aaaand I'm back! Lylyss: You're leaving? Awwwww. I wish you wouldn't go. I really am ok with waiting- though if you feel it's best you go, I suppose I understand. Also, regarding the heist plot: What about Nenva? You didn't mention anything about her.)) ((And it's morning in the Roshar plot now? Cool beans.)) Calden nodded slowly. "That may be our best opportunity to speak to her without arousing undue notice from other nobles . . . though I dislike the practice of conducting business on the dance floor." ~~ "I think so." Westing followed the feint with a swift kick. "As I said, you're quite good." ----------------- When the morning sun rose, Kisma was surprised to find that she'd actually managed a halfway decent amount of sleep the previous night. Zahi's reticence had prevented much conversation between her and the spren, and her private thoughts had been drained all too quickly by exhaustion. She rose and dressed quickly in her clothes from the day before before moving to the front area of the tent and peering outside. Jeroam hadn't specified what time he wished to leave, but he didn't seem the type who'd want to waste any time.
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Aug 11, 2016 8:03:25 GMT
Ah. Good point. Brune nodded in agreement, approaching the largest tent. "I guess we'll go undercover as door-to-door salesmen?" ____________________ Jove performed a beat: he tensed his thumb and forefinger upon the hilt of his dagger, which made the blade smack against the coinshot's dueling cane. The technique was subtle but firm, intended to knock the enemy's weapon out of alignment and create an opening for Jove to lunge with his knife. Which he did. Aiming for the heart. ____________________ Whistling. Something was whistling through the air. Ollin pulsed Iron on instinct, but found that the objects were too large to repel, so she dropped to the ground and allowed the hubcaps to sail overhead. Straight toward the rival Mistborn. "You will. I'm simply your mercenary guard, hired to protect your wares from thieves." Daradin gave a bitter laugh. "I believe in the arts as the most respectable way of making money. That's not meant as a pointed comment, by the way." With the largest tents in the centre of the camp, it took a good half an hour to get there, what with being stopped by soldiers several times and even ordered away to an official to get permits for hawking wares. Daradin said he would go straight there, and around the corner instantly went in the opposite direction to the office. Nonetheless, eventually they reached the larger tents at the centre. Tents was a misnomer, by the way. Oh, the dwellings were shaped like tents, down to the tassels on the outer edge of the roof. But each and every tent, to protect against the highstorms, had been Soulcast into stone. Most were one-room tents, with some pitched close together prior to Soulcasting in order to make a compound. Others were clearly designed to have multiple rooms, most evidently the ones here in the centre of the camp. Daradin slapped his hand against his empty scabbard. "All right. Any chance you can fight with a spork?"
The Coinshot fell, gurgling, his duelling cane clattering to the ground. He pressed an arm against the wound—whether it had pierced his heart was yet to be seen—and reached for a vial in his belt. "Rusting Thug."
The Mistborn extinguished iron and flared steel at the same time. The hubcaps sank half a centimetre into his chest before they finally stopped—and reversed, blasting straight at Ollin. Although the momentum behind them was much less, their proximity to the Mistborn was greater, and the flared steel made the Push all that much stronger. When the morning sun rose, Kisma was surprised to find that she'd actually managed a halfway decent amount of sleep the previous night. Zahi's reticence had prevented much conversation between her and the spren, and her private thoughts had been drained all too quickly by exhaustion. She rose and dressed quickly in her clothes from the day before before moving to the front area of the tent and peering outside. Jeroam hadn't specified what time he wished to leave, but he didn't seem the type who'd want to waste any time. In the courtyard, two stablehands were preparing the Ryshadium which Jeroam had ridden the day before. A few men in servant's livery carried boxes and barrels out to a pair of wagons harnessed to chulls. Jeroam himself had not yet appeared.
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Post by Leilani Sunblade on Aug 15, 2016 1:06:49 GMT
No sign of the Brightlord. Which, when Kisma thought about it, wasn't surprising- while he wouldn't want to waste time, she also highly doubted he'd want to leave before breakfast. She was about to retreat from the doorway when she noticed the two figures at the other side of the circle of larger tents . . . two very familiar figures. Stormfather! I must be imagining things! But, no, she blinked and blinked again and they were still there. "Kelek's eyes," she muttered under her breath. "they truly are mad!" Brune and the soldier both- though why the latter was there, she understood even less than why Brune had come all this way. Brune's determination the day before made his presence now almost unsurprising; the soldier- she didn't think she'd ever gotten his name- had seemed quite inclined to stay out of the matter as much as possible when she'd talked to him. Sensible of him. But he seemed to have had a chance of heart somehow.
It was actually a bit flattering, she had to admit, that they'd come all this way- especially since she was far enough below their rank that no one would've been surprised if they'd taken no notice of her at all. All the more reason to try to keep them from getting killed. She glanced at Zahi, curled along the doorframe beside her. "You should go suggest to them that they should leave. Or . . . no. They won't listen to that. Suggest to them that it looks like Brightlord Jeroam is about to go somewhere and they'd be better off to wait and make their move once he's set out." She hoped they'd be sensible enough to see that on their own, but sometimes men could be so narrowly focused that they missed details like that.
Zahi swayed nervously, as if caught by some breeze. "They will not be able to hear me. They should not be able to hear me. No one but you should be able to hear me."
"Try anyway." If they were going to try to rescue her, they might as well make their best shot at it. She waited until Zahi reluctantly startled winding his way along walls towards the pair to do as she'd asked. Then she ducked back inside, not wanting to draw undue attention to herself or to Brune and Daradin. Not until she'd sat down to wait did she realize that if Jeroam happened to come out and see Zahi hanging around Brune and Daradin, that would draw his attention even more- but too late now. She'd just have to hope that he didn't come out until Zahi gave up on trying to talk to them.
((Yes, Zahi is going to try to do the thing. Odds are neither will hear him, but he'll still try to get his message across for 5-10 minutes before heading back to Kisma.))
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Post by Lylyss on Aug 18, 2016 2:02:54 GMT
"You will. I'm simply your mercenary guard, hired to protect your wares from thieves." Daradin gave a bitter laugh. "I believe in the arts as the most respectable way of making money. That's not meant as a pointed comment, by the way." With the largest tents in the centre of the camp, it took a good half an hour to get there, what with being stopped by soldiers several times and even ordered away to an official to get permits for hawking wares. Daradin said he would go straight there, and around the corner instantly went in the opposite direction to the office. Nonetheless, eventually they reached the larger tents at the centre. Tents was a misnomer, by the way. Oh, the dwellings were shaped like tents, down to the tassels on the outer edge of the roof. But each and every tent, to protect against the highstorms, had been Soulcast into stone. Most were one-room tents, with some pitched close together prior to Soulcasting in order to make a compound. Others were clearly designed to have multiple rooms, most evidently the ones here in the centre of the camp. Daradin slapped his hand against his empty scabbard. "All right. Any chance you can fight with a spork?"
The Coinshot fell, gurgling, his duelling cane clattering to the ground. He pressed an arm against the wound—whether it had pierced his heart was yet to be seen—and reached for a vial in his belt. "Rusting Thug."
The Mistborn extinguished iron and flared steel at the same time. The hubcaps sank half a centimetre into his chest before they finally stopped—and reversed, blasting straight at Ollin. Although the momentum behind them was much less, their proximity to the Mistborn was greater, and the flared steel made the Push all that much stronger. No sign of the Brightlord. Which, when Kisma thought about it, wasn't surprising- while he wouldn't want to waste time, she also highly doubted he'd want to leave before breakfast. She was about to retreat from the doorway when she noticed the two figures at the other side of the circle of larger tents . . . two very familiar figures. Stormfather! I must be imagining things! But, no, she blinked and blinked again and they were still there. "Kelek's eyes," she muttered under her breath. "they truly are mad!" Brune and the soldier both- though why the latter was there, she understood even less than why Brune had come all this way. Brune's determination the day before made his presence now almost unsurprising; the soldier- she didn't think she'd ever gotten his name- had seemed quite inclined to stay out of the matter as much as possible when she'd talked to him. Sensible of him. But he seemed to have had a chance of heart somehow. It was actually a bit flattering, she had to admit, that they'd come all this way- especially since she was far enough below their rank that no one would've been surprised if they'd taken no notice of her at all. All the more reason to try to keep them from getting killed. She glanced at Zahi, curled along the doorframe beside her. "You should go suggest to them that they should leave. Or . . . no. They won't listen to that. Suggest to them that it looks like Brightlord Jeroam is about to go somewhere and they'd be better off to wait and make their move once he's set out." She hoped they'd be sensible enough to see that on their own, but sometimes men could be so narrowly focused that they missed details like that. Zahi swayed nervously, as if caught by some breeze. "They will not be able to hear me. They should not be able to hear me. No one but you should be able to hear me." "Try anyway." If they were going to try to rescue her, they might as well make their best shot at it. She waited until Zahi reluctantly startled winding his way along walls towards the pair to do as she'd asked. Then she ducked back inside, not wanting to draw undue attention to herself or to Brune and Daradin. Not until she'd sat down to wait did she realize that if Jeroam happened to come out and see Zahi hanging around Brune and Daradin, that would draw his attention even more- but too late now. She'd just have to hope that he didn't come out until Zahi gave up on trying to talk to them. ((Yes, Zahi is going to try to do the thing. Odds are neither will hear him, but he'll still try to get his message across for 5-10 minutes before heading back to Kisma.)) ((Leilani: :P Well, I guess I'll let someone adopt Nenva as well. Whoever wants her can have her. Also, what is Zahi about to try? I must be missing something.)) "An insult!" Jove flicked his sword at the Coinshot's hand, intending to stop him from reaching the vial. ______________ Ollin rose from her crouch--just in time to get hit with the hubcaps and fall to the ground once more. Two scarlet stripes bled through her smock, darkening the area across her stomach. It was a serious injury. Especially for someone her age. Still, Ollin stood, and made one last stab at the enemy Mistborn. Then she seized Nathin's arma and dashed for the shelter of a nearby alley. Hopefully, they could take a shortcut to the carriages and rendezvous with Chazan. ______________ Brune started to explain that sporks were excellent eye-gouging utensils, but then he paused, frowning. A spren was zipping toward their location. That's strange. Usually, spren wandered aimlessly in the sky, but this one moved with purpose. Haste, even.
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Post by Leilani Sunblade on Aug 18, 2016 23:55:04 GMT
(( Lylyss: Got it. And Kisma told Zahi to suggest to Daradin and Brune that it looks like the Shardbearer is about to go somewhere and maybe they should wait to make their move until later. I have no idea if they'll be able to hear him or not; I suppose Syl could make herself audible/visible or not at will, but I can't remember how it worked for any other spren.)) ((And now I shall roleplay as a spren, because that sounds like fun now.)) The merchant was watching him. Zahi was allowing it, true, unlike with the Abomination-weilder. But it was still strange to be seen, to be watched so closely. He had to fight the urge to hide himself- he wanted to be hidden, but he needed to take the message to these two. So much. But he had been chosen for this, as Kisma had been chosen. He would do the best he could. Winding up the edge of a structure near the two, he spoke, uncertain whether they would hear or not: "The Brightlord prepares to travel. Do not be hasty."
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Aug 19, 2016 20:19:16 GMT
The merchant was watching him. Zahi was allowing it, true, unlike with the Abomination-weilder. But it was still strange to be seen, to be watched so closely. He had to fight the urge to hide himself- he wanted to be hidden, but he needed to take the message to these two. So much. But he had been chosen for this, as Kisma had been chosen. He would do the best he could. Winding up the edge of a structure near the two, he spoke, uncertain whether they would hear or not: "The Brightlord prepares to travel. Do not be hasty." Daradin followed Brune's gaze and matched his frown. "What are you looking at?" "An insult!" Jove flicked his sword at the Coinshot's hand, intending to stop him from reaching the vial. ______________ Ollin rose from her crouch--just in time to get hit with the hubcaps and fall to the ground once more. Two scarlet stripes bled through her smock, darkening the area across her stomach. It was a serious injury. Especially for someone her age. Still, Ollin stood, and made one last stab at the enemy Mistborn. Then she seized Nathin's arma and dashed for the shelter of a nearby alley. Hopefully, they could take a shortcut to the carriages and rendezvous with Chazan. The Coinshot seized the vial and rolled away, Jove's dagger slashing his knuckles. He swallowed the contents and scrabbled for his duelling cane.
The Mistborn gulped down a vial of metals and burned pewter, easing the sting in his chest. He searched the street until he found a few coins. One he dropped, and he Pushed himself into the air, searching with tin-enhanced sight for Ollin and Nathin. The thin alleyway obstructed sight. He landed on the roof above it and sprayed coins into the dimness in all directions.
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Post by jliessa44 on Aug 25, 2016 18:32:18 GMT
"One of us can dance with her and then take her to the garden afterward." Beck twitched a small smile. "It wouldn't be unheard of to do so." ---- She winced as she took the kick, turning on her (pewter?).
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