Alfgar smiles wickedly as Rahgon moves to flank the basher, moving in tandem with the goblin to attack the berk from the other side. Here's a piece, wise guy . . . time for your organs to get acquainted with some cold, hard steel.
The rogue slides his shortsword and dagger into the basher's back, puncturing the heart and kidney respectively before twisting the two blades with a quick jerk. The blood flows out of the basher like a river, Another entry in the dead book.
Ogdurnan shouts at the githyanki, again throwing his voice to sound like it came from Rakaneth. "You still think you can take us? What a stupid berk. You're clearly not even fit to be mind-flayer chow!" Then, in his normal voice, Ogdurnan offers some encouraging words to the walking gemstone, "Hang in there my crystal compatriot! A good polishing and you'll be shimmering like a blink dog again!"
Not letting his momentum stall at all, Rakaneth once more lashes out all around him. Bending at the knees and teetering so his back is parallel to the floor, he swings his blade in a horizontal motion above his body, slicing at the foes nearest him.
The githyanki is elated as he sees Chrys' arm lose many crystals, and as the disintegration follows all the way up is arm. In mere moments there is no longer a shardmind standing in front of him, but a heap of crystal. The gith turns to other foes, thinking he has laid the warrior low. The the crystals begin to glow and hum and they float up into the air in a spinning cloud Their sharp edges cut the gith and his companion, surprised at the movements of the crystal. It then reforms a few feet away, Chrys' impassive crystal face staring at them as he heaves his pick at both of them, his arm distending and fragmenting as it reaches out to attack them.
The fight turns into a slaughter as Alfgar dispatches his prey with a lethal strike. The poor sods eyes bulge in surprise, his club clattering to the ground, his mouth parted in a bloody squawk before joining it on the cobble floor with a thud. On the other side of the fight it seems like the end for the shardmind as the creature crumbs into pieces, yet within a moment all those fragments are moving on an wind which doesn't exist, sweeping across the field in a whirl of razor points to reform into the creatures original body away from his enemies. With a moment to spare as its enemies blink in surprise Chrys diverts his psychic reserves into his next swing, his pick sending out a crescent force. The Gith is quick to block most of the force as it pushes him back but the rag-picker is less fortunate, the leatherhead gaping as the psychic blow rips him in half. Behind them Rakaneth dispatches the last of his foes, the lone street rat no match for the genasi skill, with wide eyes he can only stare in amazement at the blade skill before noticing his been stuck like a pig, collapsing to the ground with a croak. Ogdurnan's skill plays with the githyanki's mind, causing damage as it messes with his perception of the battle, the gnome even having time to string together an invigorating phrase for the shardmind. Yaga slides back, one eye growing dark as he mutters a old curse. Effect upon the basher before him is profound, the man seizing up with fright, his already pallid face turning maggot white. With one foe distracted the bladeling turns, a long blade leaving his hand to zip across the field and strike the githyanki's chest with a loud hiss. The Gith lets out a cry his he feels the blade bite into his heart. "Captain..." the shocked man croaks before the blade slides itself back out to return to its master, an arc of blood spurting from his chest as the githyanki falls like a puppet with its strings cut.
The solo survivor of your attackers looks about in fright at the bloody mess of all his fellows. Already under the vistani curse the berk turns stag, huffing loudly as he leaves a trial of blood behind him.
Alfgar nods as the berks run off, motioning to Rahgon to follow him. Come on, let's get your bodyguard and get out of here before someone real dangerous shows up 'bout the commotion. He ignores the runner, bending down to wipe his blades off the clothing of the basher he killed while looking through the corpse for any gold. With that done, he starts trying to rub the letters from his clothing and skin. Hey! This stuff don't come out! What kinda ink is this?
Yaga sees the basher running for it, and although a part of him wants to let the fool go, the rest of him is simply angry. These fools picked a fight for no reason, and it's kept him from a warm bed and willing wife. For Yaga Dayreth, that's excuse enough for what happens next.
"Oh no you don't," Yaga says. He bounds around the Crystal Man, pulling back on his arm and taking careful aim. The spirits empower his long knife, and he lets fly, the magic of his Evil Eye aiding the vengeful spirits of the Ring as they do their work.
Eying the others around him with suspicion, and an emotionless but calculating gaze, Rakaneth keeps his blade level and simply watches, waiting for the others to make a move on him or to leave. "Master Draken will not be pleased....this one has taken a life that was not necessary. It is known the Hive is dangerous, but still, I am to learn not act."