Emerging From Shadows

Reina Seamel's Home

''A small, three room affair, this homestead speaks of simplicity and elegance. The home has been designed to honor both House Kahar and House Seamel, draped in shades of green and blue. The common area is spacious, taking up about half of the entire structure. Biinwood paneling graces the walls, shined to a high polish, and remain bare, excluding three tapestries. One is of the Horse and Rider to Seamel, th next the Wildcat of Kahar, and the final is a dedication to the Light, an emblazoned sun in gold thread against a black background''.

''Two large windows are set to the front of the house, flanking the door entering the room, allowing in a great deal of natural light, though curtains of a deep emerald can be loosened to offer more privacy. Comfortable rugs cover the floors, while a sofa and chairs have been spread out, mostly focused around the fireplace''.

Two doors lead off of the common area, one to the bedchambers of the Lord and Lady, while the other into the kitchen/small dining area.

The entire room has been frozen over, one of the reasons that the door originally refused to budge right off of the bat. The floor is a slippy smooth substance, hard to walk on at all. Tucked off into the corner furthest from the door is a single chair with the limp form of Reina Seamel, conscious, but looking in pain, patches of frozen skin intermingled with burns from lightning coursing through her body. Two prone bodies lay on the ground, neatly arranged, as if care had been taken to make sure they were comfortable. The first of these bodies is Kess Kahar, looking as if he were asleep, but there is no tell-tale rise and fall of his chest. The other unmoving body is a man dressed in armor, obviously a guard. This one still breathes, though barely.

Standing, her gaze focused on the door is a solitary woman, a mask of dark shadows hiding her features from view. Her pale fingers brush lightly over the Seamel's neck, listening to her moan faintly in pain. There is satisfaction in the cold blue eyes, and as the group enters, she straightens, a smirk appearing.

Having sheathed his sword before busting the door down, Lucius soon grabs a steel spear to hold it by its throwing strap and enters the icy room. While his boots are hobnailed, they dont quite grip into the slick ground as well as they might into rocky soil, but do give him a modicum of better traction. He is slow as he walks in, shield held above his body. "What's this?" He bellows to Gale.

Kael's in, and around Luc - to heck with this nonsense of bellowing or waiting on potentially dangerous shadowpeople to blow things up. The plan it seems was to /move/, to get across that icy floor and /hit her/.

Good plan. Of course, when you hit a patch of ice and go slithering across the floor after a step or two, you're not really all that close to /implementing/ that plan. Snarling, kael takes a tumble after only a step, sprawling and only the design of those knives keeping him from losing both.

Celeste follows after the skidding mage and shield-bearing knight. Careful is her step entering the room, one hand reaching out to touch at the walls and then pulling back as if burned at finding the ice there. "By the Light, what is going on here," she growls low in her throat.

There is amusement as Gale looks at those entering. Her eyes flicker over Kael and his tattoo, before on to Celeste and Lucius. "Of course," she muses. "Leave it to the idiots of Fastheld to try and mount a rescue," she says. "Unfortunately, I cannot have you disrupting my plans for this evening." Her gaze narrows and soft words whisper across the room in the ancient arcane language of the Shadow.

Celeste falls to her knees, and collapses. Little more than her eyes move, wincing shut.

At the outburst of pain, it seems the bard waits no longer - standing in the doorway, looking at the frozen and fallen. A bit pale, his staff in hand but held to balance and defend rather than attack. He lowers it on seeing what's happened, looking right at Gale. "Will you attack me, also?" he asks calmly.

Lucius Nepos is sprawled on the ground, shield under him.

Gale shakes her head with a sigh, "You all must learn to not attack those more powerful than you," she chides in a resigned voice. Her eyes turn to Taran as he enters and she sighs, "My intention was not to harm any of them," she replies, making a vague gesture to the fallen company. "As I have said, there are enough that have to die without adding in the fools and idiots."

Dazed, there's little more than a groan from the fallen, greying mage, as he collects his senses - a twitch, but nothing more.

Lucius Nepos doesn't say or do anything at the moment, besides breath and listen.

Taran nods. Puts a hand in his pocket, comes out with a necklace of wolf-teeth around his fingers. "Then go," he offers quietly, and puts the necklace back. "Let me tend to them, if you will."

"They will survive," the masked woman says quietly, shaking her head. "But unfortunately, there is the original matter to attend to first." She looks down at Reina who also seems to have been effected by the powerful magic, continuing to moan softly. "She must die. She /will/ die. You may remove them, if you would like, so they will not be forced to see her die."

The greying mage may not be able to do much - save mutter a low grunt that likely translates to 'no', or some other sort of negation, but - honestly? Impossible to say.

"I've seen people die before." Lucius says, voice a bit shakey - perhaps it's due to the fact that he's close to having his face in the icey ground, or that he's paralyzed by Shadow Magic. He does lift his eyes, though, to look at Gale and her quarry. "Don't move me, Taran."

Taran enters the room then, walking quite carefully and using his staff for balance. "Do not," he says, almost gently, as he approaches. "You do not need. The servant girl who brought them will bring others, bring the Watch. The longer you stay the greater risk. I ask, for your sake. Go, and let me tend to them."

Celeste shudders on the ground, but as her eyes open. Pure hate is all that could describe what rests in their sea green depths. The woman's mouth work, but no words come out... and even this is eclipsed as her eyes wince shut again.

Gale shakes her head, "I will just be forced to return at a later point," she says quietly. She bends slightly to retrieve a silver dirk from its hiding place within her boot. "Her death will be as painless as possible."

Kael may not be able to do much - but he breathes. In the frozen air above the melting ice, shivering as he is - he focuses, murmering something slurred, a call. A quiet entreaty - and he breathes.

Another few soft words as Gail draws the knife. And he breathes ..

And that misty breath coalesces, flickering with an internal, blue light of its own, a ghostly chitter, there at the mage's head, already chirruping in alarm.

Taran bows his head. And then, with no word said at all, that quarterstaff comes whizzing around - aimed right at Gale, and the bard's expression is entirely blank.

The sound of the chittering draws the Mikin's fluttery gaze for a moment. Her hands wrapping about the formed metal of the armor, but again that heated gaze turns to Gale. Oh, if looks could kill...

There is a look of surprise as Taran makes makes a swipe at her, but luck seems to be rolling with her tonight and she dodges the attack by taking herself down on her knees by the chair, fingers still tightly gripping the dirk. One hand comes up, pent up electricity crackling on her fingers, but the mage does not release it, holding back. "Do not make me, Taran," she warns quietly.

And kael offers one more quiet murmer... and the little Chitter rears back, eying Gail... and /screams/.

Lucius Nepos growls slightly at Gale as Taran swings and misses. "Light..."

Outside, there is an ominous rustling. And many small squeaks...

Taran holds his staff at the ready, his expression blank. "You have your beliefs, Gale," he says quietly. "And I have mine. I ask you to remember humanity and let it end here. Only a few hours ago, you were happy. Does *this* make you happy?"

"Does it make /you/ happy, Taran, to remain a slave to these fools?" Gale replies quietly, her eyes focused in on the standing mage. "I will leave it here, but this is only the beginning. Let this stand as a message to those who seek to put us down, and force us to do their bidding. There will be others. Many others."

Reina stirs in her seat, eyes focusing in on Gale with loathing. "Bitch," she snarls out weakly. "Shadow take you. You will be punished for this... for killing my husband."

Gale looks to Reina with a touch of amusement, trying to slowly rise to her feet. "The Shadow took me long ago, Seamel. So you have at least gotten one of your wishes."

"Someone call the Watch." Lucius says. Or rather, he growls.

And into that moment storms reinforcements, of a sort.

Two dozen brown bodies, chittering and scolding, all paws and tails and teeth, swarm through the door and across the ice, joined by the ghostly thing that leaps forward like some ghostly general at their head. And that swarm rolls, squealing and biting, climbing and angry, a brown ball of beasts that is on a collision path with Gale...

"Someone call the Watch." Repeats Lucius again, his voice finding a bit more strength.

"It does not make me happy to kill," Taran replies quietly, but what else he might have said is cut off by the sudden swarm of ...well, cute rats. Wide-eyed, he tells Gale, "Go! If you can!" Evidently the bard has no idea what you do about a huge swarm of chitters.

Celeste winces at the motion of trying to maneuver and stares almost slacked-jawed at the torrent of well, fuzzy wave. "G..Get her," she bites out. The words hardly a whisper, but at least she's trying.

Gale looks up to Taran for a moment, her expression grim, before over to Kael with a shake of her head. "Be safe, Taran," she says quietly, and resheathes her knife in the boot, gathering strength and making an attempt at teleporting out of the frozen home, and away from the rampaging fuzzies.