”Enemies be the ones to whisper together in low tones.”

Tonton stands at the edge of the mine, his expression calm but his blade swiftly drawn and pointed down towards the group below him.  Forty or fifty feet down, the small cadre of miners stops their hushed conversation and now gawk upwards at the pair: the overtly hostile man and the somber minotaur.

For his part, Magnus stares openly, stunned for the moment at the turn of events.  But it is not the quick turn towards violence that has Magnus at a loss, he’s spent enough time with Tonton now to know that even the most innocent remark said in the wrong tone can send the man searching for blood.

No.  Instead, it is the sword itself that has Magnus so surprised.  The ebony blade glistens in the sunlight.  It is the black sword.  The weapon that had been wielded against him in the tunnels under Perdition by the Bone Sovereign.  A blade which had until very recently, been a possession of Gustav.

”Juice be keeping it loud enough for everyone to hear.”

Tonton pronounces in his easy island drawl, a corner of his upper lip flickering upwards to show the slightest bit of teeth which stand out as a shock white against the coal black of his skin.

Unbidden, the whole of the past two months washes over Magnus all at once:

It had been just after the new year when Magnus had last seen Gustav.  Magnus had led (something which seems odd to the minotaur even now) an expedition in search of a captured convoy.  Gustav had been there, along with Giles and Terri, and a few newcomers to the area, Rolf, Sajaa, and the boy Runt.  It had taken the better part of a day but Magnus had succeeded.  He had rescued the trader Rudyard along with about a dozen other hostages.  He had also assured that the whole group of bandits that had done the plundering was dead, well, all save one anyway, who had fled to some other cavern.

Magnus had seen the mission as over and done with.  Gustav, along with most of the others apart from Giles, had not.  While Magnus and Giles had gone to report their success to Governor Broskow, the others had gone back to the caves to find whatever evil remained.

That was the last that Magnus had seen of any of them.

Two months he had been working for Broskow, guarding shipments of ore, defending the mines, and increasingly, being asked to root out “unfaithfuls” from the mix of the workers.  Now it seemed he was there less for protection and more simply to report them if they seemed insufficiently grateful for their work or their town.  In all this time, Magnus had seen nothing of any of his old compatriots.  He had assumed it was down to the fact that he was spending most nights out of doors – that he had just missed them before they had left town.

But now here was Gustav’s sword pointing down on a group of innocent miners.

”I said some protection yous are!"  One of the miners shouts angrily from down below.  "Real wardens of peace!  More likely to smash and eat any of us as save anything!"

"Wan to know what happens to the ungrateful?"  Tonton's eyes open widely, glistening in expectation as the sword balances delicately in his hand.  "Kip yer talking then."

"Yorgash and Palmo are missing!"  The man shouts back from down below, the distance apparently making him feel invulnerable.  "And that thing's to blame!"

Magnus watches as the man's stubby, accusatory finger levels upwards directly at him.

"Pet yer Han dune!"  The gruff shout of the dwarf echoes upwards from the opening of the mine.

Magnus watches as Bromdaeg, the de facto leader of the miners, although he hasn't really heard any official title, walks from the main cave, his stocky build seeming to hobble from Magnus's overhead view.

The man down below glances quickly towards the opening, lowering his finger, though he responds defensively.  "There's hoofmarks in the mines!  I seen 'em!  An don't tell me Yorgash and Palmo are fine, they ain't been up for hours!"

"Dun!..."  Bromdaeg starts, his voice tight as a drum.  Though after a moment he shakes his head, sighs, and looks up upon Magnus and Tonton.

"Their net wrong."  The dwarf concedes.  "The boys ha been gun tea lung an they're nay at the second as they're sup paste to."

"It's the fucking minotaur!"  The miner shouts out.  "Let them go down there and find 'em if they're innocent!"

Tonton half turns his head towards Magnus, a snarl-toothed smile evident as he resets his blade back in the scabbard.

"Find 'em?  An when we do we'll take the lost work out of your hide."

OOC:  It's 1400 on the 15th of March, 2006.

In case it's not clear (Bromdaeg never seems to be clear) the miners are asking you to go into the mines and find the two miners who haven't been up since the morning started.  I think most of the situation has been sufficiently muddied based on the background info above.

It felt like a dream now, that brief golden age from when he had first struck out on his own, when he had taken the job to go into the desert with the others, and by some miracle they had taken him in. That random group with all their myriad backgrounds and unique personalities had treated him more or less like one of their own, and when they had mentioned his heritage, it had normally either been in a complementary way or perhaps some light hearted joke.

He had grown spoiled with them, and he had been able to focus on the tasks at hand, tasks that had earned him good work and good pay, and a sense of belonging he had rarely known.

But before that, as a child growing up on the road with his parents, things had been more typical. Work had been difficult to find for his father, with Anglish as his second language. What employers they did get sometimes gloated about being able to hire a Minotaur, they displayed them like property, made vulgar jokes about them, ordered them about, or used them as boogie men to inflate their own sense of importance. It had been distressingly common.

He had grown a thick skin, no pun intended, from a young age. It had been essential.

Now that golden age had come to a close, and things were getting back to business as usual.

He had waited for his friends, inquired about them, and had grown quietly distraught by their absence. He trusted them, and he figured they must be on some errand of great importance, running down a lead, a rumor, some great treasure or delving into some mystery. That's just the kind of people they were. What's more, Three Corners was a spartan military outpost on the fringes of  the Empire. Entertainment was rare, luxuries expensive or non-existent, and they were becoming wealthy and important in their own rights. Perhaps some of them had simply cashed in on all their hard work and were enjoying the fruits of their labors for a time?

Still. It would have been nice to get a letter, just to know that they were alright.

The only people he had written to were his parents and Daneel, his new friend the master armorer in Raphael, whose life he had saved and who had crafted his prized helmet. An item he often turned over in his hands and cherished in the privacy of his room.

Outside of that it had been a lot of work, work for Broskow, work for Three Corners.

Once again, he had become the "boogie man", the one to show up with all his arms and armor, with his fierce helmet and menacing horns, and to encourage cooperation by his mere presence. He had tried to cultivate a reputation as the "practical one" with Broskow, without the viciousness or swagger of the other two, but rather one who needed work and who was grateful for it, and who tried to do a good job.

But what a "good job" meant was becoming progressive more difficult to stomach.

That had all changed, and suddenly seemed inconsequential next to the revelation that was that murderous black sword in Tonton's hand. Magnus knew that sword, knew it well, but it was not Tonton's but his good friend Gustav's. He remembered when it had come into the swordsman's possession, and how Magnus had worried about its sinister feel and appearance. Magnus had never dared to touch it, or ask to handle it, and he liked its look even less now.

The implications were staggering. Gustav would never have let it go willingly, that much Magnus was sure of, which meant that something was wrong. That belief had been so distracting that Magnus had to be forced from his reverie to answer the upset pack of miners, who were concerned about their own problems and their own friends.

The prospect of braving the cold, dark depths with their damp stony scent and claustrophobic passages seemed almost inconsequential now next to his worries about Gustav.

"We'll find them" Magnus pitched his rumbling baritone to echo down the passageway, the first words he had spoken, a neutral timbre that struck a balance between the two, confident without adding directly to the threats Tonton had already leveled, yet without undermining the man as well.

The Minotaur punctuated the assurance by drawing out his mace with a practiced hand, a metallic click as he cleared the ring at his belt. He rolled his bull like next left then right to the sound of deep audible pops and expected the miners to clear the way for him as he advanced towards the runnels that lead deeper into the mines.

"Have some men bring lanterns" he told Bromdaeg, his tone a little more gentle. "Just in case."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:22, Sun 30 Apr 2023.

Flashing his ivory teeth in one last snarl, Tonton sheaths the black sword even as he and Magnus make the slow decent along the path at the edge of the mine.

"Yeah hard dim!"  Bromdaeg grunts as he hooks his pick over his shoulder, stretching his back as he turns to head back into the mine.

The miners though, don't seem to be so eager to head back.

"You want us to go back in?  With that?"  It's the talkative one again, who again is staring at Magnus.  However, before the minotaur has a chance to respond, Bromdaeg snaps back a retort of his own.

"An ye say year worried abet year friends?"  Bromdaeg spits, his face screwing up in reddened frustration as he bends over and picking up a lantern in his left hand.  "Mare lick you saw coward an wan sim wan else ta day yer fitting fir yeah!  Fir get yeah thin!  An if they're actually en treble be it an yer heads!"

The miner seems slightly taken aback by the dwarf's outburst, though he maintains his haughty demeanor and calls back, "No one understands you when you're agitated dwarf!"

Bromdaeg merely grunts his displeasure, turning to face Tonton and Magnus who have now gotten to the bottom of the path and reached the mine entrance.

Bromdaeg holds the lantern aloft, shining the light along the path for the two to see by, though at least in the entrance, it doesn't seem necessary, for lanterns hang along the shallow halls illuminating the shallow descent downwards.

"Ha dent get a gae lick at the second, jest lang enough ta see as net there."  Bromdaeg looks up at Tonton and Magnus.  "Day we stir there are maven to somewhere else?"

"Aye say dwarf."  Tonton begins, his coal black eyes flickering between his two compatriots and the huddle of miners.  "That we go straight to the bottom and work our way out."

Magnus looks down the length of the shaft, wishing, not for the first time, that he had been born more of a normal size for this human world.  It's clear the ceilings had been dug more for Bromdaeg's convenience than for his, and Magnus had no doubt that he would spend almost all of the time underground in a stoop.

OOC:  Ok, looking for a couple of things.  Firstly, what do you want to take down into the mine?  Bromdaeg has a pick and lantern, Tonton just has his personal effects, armor, sword, and a small kit bag.  You have the option to take down all your stuff (obviously your mule isn't going to make it) or leave off whatever you wish.

Second, I'm looking for a general strategy (rather than a turn left-turn right at this point on the map) to get you moving in the mine.  Bromdaeg has suggested going to the last place the miners were, whereas Tonton is going for a bottom-up search pattern.  Certainly other methods exist, but I'll default to what you want.

Lastly, let me know your order of march.

As a note, the mine shaft is very narrow for you and you are at least six inches too tall to stand up straight.  Additionally, any swung weapon will be using close combat rules (-4 to hit) based on the close confines, though thrusting weapons can be used normally.

Magnus felt a hint of growing anxiety as he stared into the cramped tunnels. The low uneven roof, the narrow turns and drops, and with countless tons of rock pressing down from above. While he was not claustrophobic by nature, he did not relish the prospect of spending who knew how long in them with who knew what.

He left many of his belongings with his faithful mule, Gus. His javelins and their narrow pouch would be of little use down there, and they would likely scrape or get caught in the narrower sections, and he obviously did not need his overnight gear. His mace would be of little use in the close confines, but he had grown so attached to the faithful weapon that he did not want it far from his person, it being so very valuable.

He did ensure to take a torch and a coil of stout rope, just in case.

His shield, while undeniably cumbersome, might be his only means of defense down there, and so he elected to take it, figuring he could always cinch it down tighter against his back if it became a real hinderance.

After he had divested himself of some of the bulk, he considered the manner at hand. While he liked the Dwarf Bromdaeg quite a bit more than Tonton , he admittedly liked the dark mans plan better. Punching out into the middle of the mines without any sort of system of clearing the tunnels made him nervous. "To the bottom I think, safer that way. Are we ready?" he replied, and started out, placing himself at the fore.
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:55, Thu 04 May 2023.

With a grunt and a nod, Bromdaeg agrees to Tonton and Magnus's suggestion, allowing Magnus to lead though the minotaur is forced to bend his knees and droop his head to keep his horns from catching on the low ceiling.  Though Magnus's massive form blocks much of the light of Bromdaeg's lantern, there are others hung at interval in the narrow tunnel and the dwarf manages to angle his own enough to the side to give Magnus light to see ahead when the way is dim.  In any case, it isn't long until they come to a shaft headed straight down into the earth even as the way ahead continues on.

"Eyes tea shafts at head dine.  Thus an another same farty yards en.  Thus un gays the deepest they."

Magnus tries to decipher the dwarf's heavy brogue while taking in the sights of the shaft.  There is some sort of pulley system, with a heavy rope and two thick wheels, attached to the stone of the ceiling with thick climber's spikes.

"All lead fur the may men."  Bromdaeg grunts as he puts a single leg over the side, stepping onto a thick rope ladder which descends down into the darkness.  "Dent wan ye to go tea lay."

"Darker than the ocean on a black night down there..."  Tonton observes, watches as Bromdeag's ladder slowly descends into the abyss.

Down the three travel, now with only the light of Bromdaeg's lantern.  Magnus counts some fifteen steps downwards along the rope before he sees tunnels leading off to the left and right but Bromdaeg keeps following the ladder lower, descending into the depths of the mine.

Twenty more rungs this time, before Bromdaeg finally steps off the ladder into a small shaft.  This one again not quite big enough for Magnus to actually stand.  As Magnus steps off the ladder he takes a moment to survey his surroundings.

He notes that the shaft continues downward, however, he sees the flickering orange return from the bottom, some ten or twenty feet down and notes that there must be water there.  As for the tunnel itself, Magnus notes that the floor and the ceiling seem rather different.  The floor is the reddish brown of the hard-packed clay so prevalent in this area, though the ceiling and one wall are a lighter, almost tan colored stone, speckled with glinting grey metal.  Here and there, gouge marks pock the stone surface.  Everything glistens with a film of moisture.

"Haven't bane here much."  Bromdaeg explains as Tonton kicks his way off of the ladder.  "Yeh kin fine ten often under cup per.  An sure enough we've get it here.  Bet we've been may stelly up and digging above."

He points down the shaft, towards the glistening pool below.  "As fur drainage.  Isn't any thin further dine...  All let yeah lead then."

Bromdaeg shuffles slightly out of the way, giving room for Magnus to lead.

OOC:  Give me three rolls please.  Label them like this please:  Per (smell), Per (hearing), Tactics.  Let me know what you have in each hand.

Magnus's knees, back and ankles all protest at the slow awkward shamble, scoot and shimmy that the Minotaur is forced to adopt on his sojourn deeper into the mine. There is something a little more comforting about making progress at least, a few minutes closer to being out of there, able to stand up with fresh air, sunlight and a breeze on his face, but for the moment he focused on getting the job done, and keeping a wary ear and eye out for whatever may be down here.

And whatever could it be? The men claimed to have seen hoof prints, but what animal, goat or otherwise would want to make its way down here? Cold, no food, pitch dark and difficult to get around. Part of him wondered if it was not just men spending too long in the depths and starting to hear or see things, with these two simply having wandered off or gotten injured by a cave in or something of that nature.

Magnus stopped when he saw the outline of the pool in the torchlight that escaped around the edges of the tunnel from behind him, and he did not like the look of it. He tucked his mace under one arm and gently wiggled out the potion of water breathing he had taken as a loot share many months ago and tucked it in a pouch on the strap of his satchel, close at hand, close to his mouth. He would sink like a stone in any body of water, and he was well aware of it.

As he did so he paused to listen, and spared a glance back before he came up with his plan.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:03, Thu 04 May 2023.

Magnus resituated himself, stowing his potion in a place where he could easily access it and tucking his mace underneath an arm for a moment as he tried to hear anything that might be ahead.

But despite Magnus's keen ears, it wasn't the sounds which Magnus found himself remarking on.  Instead it was the smell.  It was the musty, dull stench of a beast that sweated often and never bathed.  It was the filthy stench of unwashed fur.  It was the fresh tang of necrotic flesh that unbidden, brought fresh saliva to wet his mouth.

The smell sent Magnus's body into overdrive.  His hackles stood on end, his mind raced, his anger flared.

While the miners were wrong, there had been some truth to their observations.  Magnus had no doubt that somewhere down here, there was another minotaur.

"Why you waitin?"  Tonton gestures from behind.  "You wan me to take the lead?"

OOC:  I took your last post as a "wait for more information" so I didn't go on as far as I would have normally.  You have an unready mace in your right hand and your buckler strapped to your back.

The suspicion, the strong suspicion that there may another of his kind down here struck Magnus in a way he had not anticipated.

Foremost was excitement, the prospect at long last of meeting another of his kind that he was not directly related to. Where did they come from? What language did they speak? How have they gotten here of all places? What was their story?

Followed closely behind was apprehension and fear. Magnus knew quite well what a minotaur, even an unarmed minotaur, could do in a fit of rage. The horns, the hooves, the thick skull and hide, hemmed up in an enclosed space. There was real danger here. But more than the immediate physical danger, there was the more complex danger in risking everything he had worked so hard to build up, his livelihood, his reputation, his very existence if he tried to bring it in alive. Even if it was...rational, in any sense of the word, was he in a position to adopt or befriend...

A cannibal? No...that was not entirely correct. Cannibals ate their own kind...but, a being that would eat other people, thinking, breathing people. Who had likely murdered some miners because, well, they were probably hungry.

And that led to the third feeling, which was a deep set shame. All his life he had been beset by the rumor or popular belief that Minotaur's killed and ate people, and here, if his suspicions were correct, was undeniable proof. What did that make him? What did that mean?

Magnus had never eaten any person, he had never felt the desire to do so, but in the deep parts of his mind he had always privately wondered. He knew precious little about his parents young lives. They were both slaves in the north, his father gaining his own freedom from Orcish servitude on the Megalan border before freeing his mother. Had they tasted the flesh of a thinking person? Had they, through desperation, been forced to it? Had their parents? Magnus's grandparents? About whom he knew about nothing.

These thoughts stayed him for the moment. He heaved a great breath, and he slowly slid his mace back into its ring.

"I smell it." Magnus rumbled in reply in the dim flickering light.

"Minotaur...and a corpse, probably one of the miners." he whispered and risked a glance back for emphasis before he heaved a deep breath.

"I'm gonna try to talk to it, and if that fails....well, depending on if it's armed, I may try to take it in alive." another pointed glance. "I have my reasons." he added as if to cut off the obvious questions about his aims. He rubbed a hand over his mouth in thought. "Point is...I'm gonna ask that you not try to stick it, at least not until it looks like I'm in trouble. And if I do pin it, and you can help me tie it up." he patted his coil of rope. "All the better." the Minotaur looked serious and thoughtful. "A lot is gonna depend on if it's male...only males have the horns, and that complicates things." he reached up and rapped a leather covered knuckle on his own with a dull, bone like sound.

"Either of you speak Wazifi?" he asked with a cock of his eyebrow.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:59, Fri 05 May 2023.

"Talk to eh?"  Tonton laughs.  "You thinking of finding a mate man?  Or maybe Jess a bit of fun?"

The fighter eases slightly and gestures for the minotaur to go ahead.

"I can promise I won't hit it.  Not if it proves hostile.  But I'll give you your chance.  An I done speak any Wazifi."

"Neither eye."  Adds the dwarf in a whisper, leaning around the others to see down the narrow hallway of the mine.

With enough of an agreement to go on, Magnus begins slowly walking along stooping his head low, Bromdaeg a few steps behind with the light.  Shadows flicker ahead.  Behind him, bootsteps fall, scraping against the hard dirt.  Magnus's own hooves are not entirely silent either.

Indeed, it's only at the last moment that Magnus realizes that there are other hoofbeats just ahead.

The lantern light falls upon the beast at last, a rust-brown matted fur that blends into the walls of the cave with ease.  Magnus has only a moment to take the thing in.  It has horns... definitely a male, though it seems to be smaller than him, whether for good or for ill in the narrow confines of the mine.

But Magnus's observations stop there, for the thing shrieks and charges forward its head lowered, horns lowered for a strike!

OOC:  Though the other minotaur got the drop on you, you don't have to roll for surprise based on your combat reflexes.  You do however need to roll for an active defense prior to starting your first turn.  You can dodge (by pressing yourself flat against the wall), though realize that will likely put the minotaur between you and Bromdaeg.  Otherwise, you can try an unarmed defense, in which case the minotaur will stay ahead of you.

In addition to the defense, please give me just one second of combat time.  Also please roll vs. Perception.

Magnus plodded along, his head full of wild thoughts and visions, with the prospect of the meeting making him feel stranger and more alive than he had for some time.

This day could change his life...or, be the end of it, he reflected grimly.

Thankfully his pravticed eye saw the movement, and his body reacted before he was fully conscious of it.

Magnus threw up his gloved hand reflexively, trying to grab the horns as they loomed out of the dark, unwilling to throw himself aside to let the Dwarf and their only source of light face the furry barreling down upon them.

"Stop!" Magnus shouted a split second before he met, the only thing he could get out before the two closed in a flash of violence.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:46, Tue 09 May 2023.

It happens in a flash, the minotaur is there and charging.  Magnus's mace is holstered, his shield strapped upon his back.  Even still, he is not without defense.  His forearm and hand coming up quickly to slap away the Minotaur's horn as he charges.  But Magnus's reactions are too slow, his arm barely clearing his waist.  What's more, the fast attempt keeps him from setting a base, and he isn't prepared to take the charge.

Wham!

The minotaur's head slams into Magnus's chest.  He feels the horn first, catching in the links of his mail shirt and piercing into Magnus's own thick, leathery flesh.  The horn pulling the mesh slightly before the full brunt of the brute's weight crashes into Magnus with force!  Magnus feels his balance slipping, and he falls back more from shock than injury, for the horn pulls away without even a trace of blood!

Down Magnus crashes!  Onto his haunches which rattle with the chain of his mail shirt before he falls to his back!

"De ting muss die!"  Tonton roars, unsheathing the blacksword with a hearty shing!.

"Pell back man!"  Bromdaeg shouts.

But Magnus can only stare at the minotaur who has just knocked him down.  Though the beast's mouth and chin are covered in bloody gore, his horns aren't even a half dozen inches yet!  Magnus realizes with a start that the beast is but a child!

Looking down upon Magnus, the thing bellows a throaty roar!

OOC:  Ok, so I stopped before the first turn as your action no longer made sense.  Your missed hearing roll lost you the initiative and the minotaur got to charge first.  I didn't count your intended feverish defense, though neither did I force you to burn a fatigue on the attack (as a feverish grappling attack made no sense per your comment).  The results was a missed parry.  Luckily, the charge did no damage based on your insane DR score.  Bad news is that you did not fare as well in your ST roll and the subsequent slam attack knocked you over.  You are now supine and have not taken any action yet.

You do however, get a moment to look at the minotaur, who has all the markings of a child barely into puberty.  In human years you would think the thing is maybe 13 or 14.

Bromdaeg seems only to care about your wellbeing for the moment, though Tonton clearly thinks this attack is provocation for killing it.  If you wish to talk him off the ledge, roll vs. Fast Talk (Diplomacy won't work here, you don't have the time) which defaults to IQ-5.  Feel free to take any normal action based on whether you talk here or not (fast talk attempt won't count as an action).

Give me 3 seconds of intent please.  I'll stop things if something crazy happens.

The sound of the air being forced from Magnus's lungs joined the meaty thud of the younger Minotaur landing home with his charge. Surprised, and intentionally unarmed, Magnus was forced back a step before his hoof skidded out from beneath him on the rough stone and he was tossed back on his behind before being propped up by his pack and shield from landing flat on his back.

Luckily, the same sturdy chain hauberk that had served him so well took the brunt of the blow alongside the padded undergarment, and while he had likely been gouged, his thick hide had prevented injury that might have been lethal in another species.

But all that aside, Magnus practically recognized himself in the younger Minotaur even in the dim light, not in the bloodied maw, but in the beginnings of the horns and the leaner build and the general shape that he had not seen in what seemed like so long!

His big black eyes went even wider and his hands splayed out before him in placation.

"No! No! Stop! Please! It's just a kid!" Magnus shouted, uncharacteristically frantic in his realization as he tried to scramble to his feet.

In a frenzy he tried to recall fragments of the northern language, used almost exclusively with his own family.

[Language unknown: Wela-itdi! Red asio seni!] He growled the guttural tongue in his haste.

Magnus barks at the child minotaur in the Northernspeak and the words come out punctuated and hesitant with disuse.

Whether the child understands or not, Magnus is barely aware, for he is rolling to a side and pushing himself up onto a knee.  However, it seems clear that the minotaur is not intending to cease in his attack, for Magnus watches as a chipped and muddy hoof raises up off the floor, hovering for a moment just over his head!

"Begone ye beast!"  Tonton trumpets as he charges forward to meet the foe, hurling the black sword around in a deadly arc!

But the two seem to be moving in disunity, the minotaur stepping forward, trying to smash Magnus's face as the other rolls clear... Tonton charges forward too far, the arc of the sword cutting around and he is unable to pull back.  The two meet in the middle with a crash! as the sword hilt and Tonton's fist cracks against the child's side before clattering out of his hand as he yelps in surprise!

The minotaur too is surprised by the contact, and even as he is attempting to bring his foot down, he loses his balance, falling to the floor even as Magnus moves to regain his feet!

"You gonna pay for that beastie!"  Tonton drops to a knee, grabbing at where his sword had fallen to the ground.

As for Magnus, he sees his moment as the child is trying to regain his feet.  Magnus lurches forward, wrapping both arms around the youth, one around it's neck and the other around the waist!

[Language unknown: "Ai os tic uslomeha!  Whe tetona!  Ne dinestugh she ic on dila mime ter etof ek sta forforeve!"]  The boy screams in some harsh and guttural language Magnus has never heard.

OOC:  That was quite possibly the dumbest streak of rolling I've ever had.  The Minotaur failed his kick, then also failed his DX check to stay standing.  So instead of Magnus paying any price whatsoever for falling over, his opponent just fell down next to him.  Luckily(?), Tonton crit failed his own attack, so for the moment, his threats of murdering the child are moot for the moment.

Magnus managed his grapple.  Since you had two hands open, I had you attempt to grapple the torso with the free hand - it's a free action to let go if you wish.

Right now, the minotaur is on one knee with his head wrapped up in Magnus's right arm.  Magnus is standing, and grappling the torso with his left hand.

If you were ever a wrestler, this is the classic position where a "sprawl" on your part would probably put your opponent's face flat on the floor.

For the moment, Bromdaeg is just hanging back and holding the lantern.  Let's do another 3 seconds.

It was a brawl in the dark, in the tight, rough confines of that mining tunnel, with the shadows flashing wildly in the flickering oil light of the Dwarfs lantern.

The chance of being gored, of catching a horn to the eye or the face was quite real. As were the odds of Tonton catching him with a swing of that wicked looking blade in the melee, but in the moment Magnus knew he had to try.

He knew that if he took the easy way out, the safest way, that he would wonder about it for the rest of his life. If he were to simply beat this young creature to death alongside the mercenary and collect his pay would he hate himself? It was perfectly reasonable on the face of things after all. It had attacked him, and it had likely ambushed, murdered and eaten the missing miners.

But how could he not see some measure of himself in those wild dark eyes and that bloodied maw? How could the tenderest parts of his heart, fortified against the stares and trials of a cruel world, not ache for the boy? Likely hungry, scared, alone and hunted despite his formidable and savage appearance?

How could he live with himself, if he did not at least try?

It was Magnus's turn now to barrel into the boy, to seize him, which elicited a stream of foreign words. Not Wazifi it seemed, or Northlandish, but something else that baffled his ear.

By the grace of God that sword had missed it mark, and perhaps these few frantic moments might be enough to give Tonton pause, seeing that Magnus had the situation in hand, or some hesitation that he might wound his co-worker and anger his employer in the process.

"I've got him!" Magnus declared excitedly in Anglish as he locked up in the grapple. "Help me hold him!" He implored, and as he did so he worked to improve his position, to pin the young Minotaur so that perhaps Tonton or Bromdaeg could bind him tightly.

With one hand on the minotaur's neck, and his other wrapped underneath the youngster's arm, Magnus does not wait for the boy to stand.  Leveraging every ounce of strength from his hips, Magnus pulls the arm towards him as he shoves the neck away, flipping the young minotaur off of his knee and onto his side!

Magnus redoubles his grip, launching himself from his hooves, and shoving the minotaur to the ground as Magnus crashes on top of him!  Pressing his elbow on the boy's armpit, Magnus struggles to staple the monster to the floor of the mine.

Behind him, despite the struggling noises of the child below him and his own labored breathing, Magnus can hear the faint scrape of steel on stone as the sword is lifted from the ground and he shifts his knees, trying to cover as much of the youngster's body as he possibly can.

"Take the blade!"  Tonton shouts, and before Magnus even realizes what's happening, he feels the flickering blade slice in just past his own thigh, rending a small gash in the boy's left quadricep.  Magnus knows that nothing but minotaur's natural thick skin stood between him and the blacksword striking all the way to the bone.

"Eye's gut him lad!  Gave et a rest!"  Bromdaeg grunts, and Magnus feels more than sees the light shuffling as the dwarf approaches the fray.  Though Magnus fears another attack, damaging either the boy or himself, the only thing else that comes as Magnus struggles to fix the boy down is a few grunts of resignation from Tonton.

Though it takes a moment, Magnus eventually gets each of his limbs pressed and leveraged against the boy's, fixing him helplessly to the ground.  With a forearm pinning an arm and his hand pressing the boy's face to the side, Magnus gets a moment to bring his head back and assess the situation.  The boy's every muscle struggles helplessly agains the pin, flailing spasms of limbs that barely test Magnus's hold.  The boy's eyes bulge... he screams and rages on helplessly... a loss of control that Magnus has known in his own time as well...

But for all his effort, there is nothing the boy can seem to do.  The combat is over as quick as it started.

"Neigh a Han an a rope?"  Bromdaeg asks, putting the lantern down a few steps away.

OOC:  While your rolls to takedown/pin didn't seem all that impressive at first, it turns out that they are supposed to be contests of ST (or wrestling, whichever is better) and you ended up easily winning both.  Tonton scored a critical success for his attack, though it didn't seem to do terrible damage, and Bromdaeg seems to have been able to convince him no more blood needs to be shed.  The boy is now pinned and struggling, entirely in vain, against the hold.  With the help of Bromdaeg, it will be mostly a foregone conclusion to tie him up.

Roll vs. IQ.

As the pair struggled, Magnus's mind was afire with all the mixed up thoughts and emotions that same over him unbidden after what had felt like months of a sort of deadened, day to day grind.

He knew on some level that his desire to protect the boy was wildly irrational. He was a violent stranger who had ambushed him in the dark, likely a murderer, a cannibal, and he did not even speak his language. The only thing that this feeling was based on was the fact that for the first time in his life he was meeting another of his kind that he was not directly related to.

The fact that he could very likely be a terrible person was a distant concern. All that he knew is that he did not want to chance robbed from him, taken from him by Tonton or his own carelessness.

A surge of adrenaline surged through Magnus as he felt the blade fall, but even a glance in the dim light told him that the wound was not mortal.

With a shock Magnus realized that on some level he was imagining his own father, who had wrestled and rough housed with him in his own boyhood. With a warm sense of nostalgia he remembered the laugher and his fathers patience as he endured Magnus's frequent boyish attempts to best him, how he would dramatically lose on occasion just so his son could feel the rush of victory.

Before he knew it this blood spattered boy was in a blind rage, roaring, thrashing, and spending his strength in an impotent attempt to escape, and Magnus curled protectively over him, shielding him from another swing of that fell blade. It was a relief to realize that even Tonton was not going to stoop to executing a youth pinned down by another.

"Easy...easy" he urged the other Minotaur, assuming of course that he would not understand, but might take some hint by the intonation.

Magnus turned his horned head to Bromdaeg, his pin secure, his weight resting heavily upon the other's hips and shoulders. "I've got a coil here, over my shoulder." he informed him, thankful that he had remembered to take it from Gus, although he had spelunking in mind and not restraint when he had grabbed it.

Together he worked with Bromdaeg to bind up the younger Minotaur, careful to tie the horns to the knots in the back as well to prevent any sudden lunges, and to bind the legs in such a fashion to where only small steps could be taken.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:01, Tue 30 May 2023.

Magnus attempts to soothe the youngster as he holds him down.  Despite the pin, and the whole of Magnus's weight holding the boy immobile, he thrashes wildly in Magnus's grip as he shouts and screams in a harsh and undiscernable language.  Magnus too, has at times felt the blood rise to his head, felt the loss of control that comes with the rage.  He waits, letting the child expend his energy before he lets Bromdaeg take the rope and assist him with securing the boy's wrists behind his back.

"Wan tea luck an see if we con fined aim then?"  Bromdaeg asks, though Tonton shakes his head almost immediately.

"Best to leave that one guarded."  Tonton says with a narrowing of his eyes, though he has put his bloodied sword back into its scabbard.  "No telling what he may try and do, even tied up."

Bromdaeg grunts in disgust, but brings up the lantern in one hand as Magnus lights his torch.

"Aisle day it then may self."

The dwarf trundles off, continuing down the corridor until all that is left of him is the soft yellow reflection of his lantern in the distance.

Even now, with the boy tied, Magnus keeps a knee pressed against the small of the boy's back, for he still continues to struggle helplessly, his whole body now matted with sweat and his exhaustion clear.

It's another several minutes before Bromdaeg returns, a grim look on his face.  "Days Yorgash a the end other shaft.  Dead...  Nay sign of of Palmo they.  Aye wind air if he ran elsewhere, are else were injured?"

Bromdaeg shakes his head.

"I'm gain ta kip luck in fer him.  The mines aren't tea big.  Win take long."

OOC:  In case it's not clear, Bromdaeg found one of the miners at the end of the shaft, though didn't find any sign of the other.  He plans on searching the rest of the mines on his own, as he suspects that Palmo ran and is hiding somewhere else.

Magnus knew from experience that "the kid" probably couldn't feel much at the moment. He probably couldn't think past the rage that had overcome his mind, and that the pain and the exhaustion and the sick feeling that comes from sudden life or death exertion would all come in time.

He was probably going to go until he couldn't even stand under his own power, which was fine with Magnus. He could haul this kid out of these mines by main force if he has to, and the less energy the kid had to fight him in the process, the better.

The older Minotaur adjusted his kneeling posture to "ride out" yet another spasm of fury and acknowledged Bromdaeg's solemn news.

"You can go with him if you want. It'll go faster with two and he's not armed." not deigning to try to force the man, but suggesting rather that they would all get out of here faster if Tonton helped with the search.

"I've got this one." he declared confidently.

Two things struck him then as the younger Minotaur thrashed and roared.

The first was that he realized that he had come into the habit of taking men alive. In Raphael, here and in their various jobs and ventures, he had managed to bring in a fair number of prisoners, and that bounty hunting might not be a bad trade to explore if his current employer began to ask too much.

It might be worth spending the coin on some real shackles or manacles.

The second was what he was going to do now. He had set out to capture this kid, and he had more or less done so. Now where could he bring him?

The first option to come into his mind was
Major Brashear. As long as Magnus was willing to pay for his food and care, the major might be able to find a cell for him, for at least long enough for Magnus to try to find out the basics, or perhaps arrange for a translator.

But for now, getting this kid out alive, past a mob of his victims former friends and co-workers was the next obstacle in his path.

The day was far from over.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:18, Sun 11 June 2023.

Magnus presses the boy firm against the ground, letting him work through all of his energy.  With Magnus's larger size, not to mention the tied wrist and the pin, it seems there is little harm in just letting the kid work through all of his energy, shouting in whatever brutal language he speaks.  Little by little, the effort seems to be less and less, and Tonton seems to recognize it as well, for though he initially pleads to stay with the two minotaur, a few words from Magnus is all it takes to convince him that there may be more opportunity exploring with Bromdaeg.

"Fine."  Tonton finally says, jabbing his chin towards the ladder upwards.  "I suppose there's nothin else left here.  We'll need enough rope to haul him up as well."

Bromdaeg nods, and with after only a few moments, the two have climbed up and out of sight.

Left with only his torch, and the child still struggling beneath his knee, Magnus merely waits as the efforts grow less and less, until the boy finally stops, his eyes still open, though his breathing is ragged and heavy.

Magnus can't help but sympathize with the boy.  He too has known the effects of battle rage.  The feeling of euphoria and invincibility...  The complete loss of control and mind-numbing rage...  though Magnus frowns with the memory.

As he watches the child, something feels a little off.  The minotaur breathes in gulps, his face flushed and his body heaving from the expended effort.

Perhaps the rage had passed, but it didn't really match with with Magnus's own memories.  When he had been berserk he had given everything, all at once and until he had either lapsed into unconsciousness or else downed his foe...  He had never had the rage taper off like this...

It almost seemed instead like the boy was pretending to be in a rage...  or else like he was mimicking it.

"RRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!"

Even as Magnus begins to put the pieces together in his mind a guttural roar shakes the shakes the mine.

"Solginyarl's bared!"  Bromdaeg's voice reverberates off the stone walls from above.

Beneath him, the boy shouts in the beatial tongue, [Language unknown: "Eaueveoun, Ec di rutut!"]

Complacency...

Magnus had been so caught up in his own mission to save the boy, so blind to the possibility that there could be another, a mother, a father, or a sibling...much as he had travelled with in his own youth, that the he felt the shock of the realization like a physical thing.

Magnus was up, the boy left bound where he was, as Magnus took his torch in his shield hand and began moving as quickly as he dared in the direction Tonton and Bromdaeg had gone.

Thankfully, like all his kind, he had a knack for knowing where he was and where he had been, which made navigating the tunnels just a little easier.

Tonton, alone, against whatever else was now here...at least one, possibly more. Magnus was not sure what odds he would give the man, but he knew he wanted to be there, the faster the better.

His hooves clattered on the stone as he hustled along, his horned head ducking this way and that as he looked and listened in the flickering light of his torch.

Would the boy, exhausted as he was, be able to escape the bindings? If so how long would it take him? Was it even important now that they had another perilous fight on their hands?!

Without even a second thought, Magnus springs to his feet and launches himself towards the end of the shaft, gripping his torch in one hand and leaving the boy minotaur tied and helpless and in almost total darkness.

Magnus finds the ladder and grabs it with a hand, being careful not to get the torch flames too close as he ascends as quickly as he dares.

All the while, voices reverberate off the walls, reaching his ears as he climbs.

"Dan git tea close!"

"Come mon big fella...  Come mon inta my blade..."

"RAAAAAAAAAAGH!

Magnus's heart thrums in his chest, one rope rung after another churning under his hooves.

"Gaede het!"

Magnus pulls his face over the edge of the next shaft and looks as a stones throw down the way, Tonton faces off against the largest minotaur Magnus has ever seen.  Where Magnus cannot stand with the low ceilings, this one is near crouched on all fours, his width expanding to fill nearly all of the shaft.  Behind, Bromdaeg holds the lantern high in his left hand, his pick tentatively in his right, looking as if he's unwilling to hurl the impromptu weapon forward into the fray.

As he kicks his last leg over, Magnus watches as the Minotaur launches its head forward into a dive like thrust, it's horns lancing out towards Tonton's chest.  The swordsman however, dances backwards, batting the natural weapon aside with his blade.

OOC:  You are about 10 yards away from the fray and on one knee.  You have the torch in your left hand.  The tunnel is wide enough for someone to pass potentially, though not without both people being in close combat.  It looks like Tonton is on the retreat for the moment, though you can see a bright red cut across the minotaur's forearm.  We are in combat, but as it will take you a bit to engage, lets go ahead and do 4 seconds. 

Magnus cursed the flexible rope ladder as he tried to climb with speed, the whole contraption shifting and swaying and shifting as he pulled and pushed against it,  trying to heave his bulk up one rung at a time. The edges of his hooves, mercifully, had almost no sensation, and he relied on the more sensitive inner tissues to tell when he had purchase.

In little peeks as he hauled himself up and over the edge, he saw him, massive, dangerous and enraged. Magnus, who had gone through his entire life with the child like vision of his father being the biggest and the baddest, now saw irrefutable evidence that they were not the biggest dogs in the yard.

Taking the boy alive had been difficult enough, but this, this Minotaur possessed bone crushing power, irresistible mass, and horns that could run a man straight through. His hide was undoubtedly thick and his bones incredibly dense. It would be a massive effort just to bring him down at all, much less to take him alive, and the rope he had left would be of little use in restraining such a specimen.

What could they do?

They could beat it down, an old fashioned thrashing, but there was a good chance that it would not stop, could not stop until it was essentially dead on its feet. Or...he could try to cripple it, which although not ideal, would be better than bashing its brains out.

God in heaven what a dilemma, what a choice. A father likely just protecting his son, and in such a fury that he was willing to face the world. How could Magnus not respect him?

But respect or no, he could not just leave. He could not abandon the mines, Bromdaeg and the others to these two. Others would come and others would surely put them down, and his own prospects would be ruined, and his shame at such cowardice would be great.

A fight it would be then, and it would surely be a fateful one.