shadow warrior 3 to kill indifferent clown

It lay on its side while a passenger begged for assistance from within. The white palanquin had become wedged on a tangle of broken trees. Turning his head to assure himself that he was not mistaken, he sought its source below the edge of the surviving trail. No more screams drifted upward in the beating rain though he detected a low, keening whimper through the sound of it. Kala'amātya grasped the overhanging branches of a stunted tree, anticipating the imminent failure of his own footing, but was spared the ground beneath him had broken with the massive wedge that had slid away, their violent dissociation shaping a concave face of clay and freshly-scoured limestone. It drowned its victims’ cries as it bore them down the flank of the mountain, crushing them into the savage mass of trees and stone and earth that flowed like water into the mist, toward a unseen valley floor. His eyes turned instinctively toward the sky but no bolt had crashed down from the dismal heavens instead, the puggy trail bowed, sagged, and began to disintegrate, crumbling as the rock below sloughed away from the hillside into a sucking, grinding cataclysm.

He drew his staff of heavy ju wood from his horse’s harness and slid down from the saddle, striding back toward the delinquents.Ī shudder rippled in the ground beneath him a moment before the advent of a deep, resounding crack that ripped through sodden earth and air. Porters set down their chests and bundles and took out packages of sticky, leaf-wrapped rice, cramming the grain into their mouths while glancing anxiously toward him. The bearers crouched by the lip of the precipice, seeking the shelter of its eaves.

Another backward glance informed him that the troupe had settled on the track, adopting the stationary palanquin as a warrant for the unscheduled respite. “Tell her that she must.” he muttered, urging his mount onward. the lady asks that we rest now.” the bearer informed him, panting as he bowed his head. Misted gorges echoed with the roar of hidden torrents that wound between the cliffs he frowned as the palanquin was set down, and one of its bearers shouldered his way toward him, water spilling from the wide brim of his hat. The crowded, jewel-green mountains lost their heads in pewter clouds, looking as though they had been flung down from the sky and buried waist deep in the rock beneath. Kala'amātya had passed through the belly of Guangxi once before, though on that occasion he had been unencumbered by a small army of inagile companions.

Rain had redoubled the weary porters’ burdens, the milky clay beneath their feet a greasy quagmire in which they slipped and stumbled, crying out and clasping one another against the prospect of a fall. The day had barely hauled free of the dismal, unfledged light of dawn, though noon had come and gone, kept cool and dripping by a hidden sun. Though he was yet to glimpse its secluded passengers, he was not troubled by the circumstance, his task set, his reward negotiated in advance. A white palanquin formed the nucleus of the increasingly dispirited assembly, borne by stalwart men, their sodden grass cloaks no longer any use against the incessant rain. Two dozen guards, porters and attendants formed the thin procession, the company forced to assume the shape of the narrow trail, none of them spared a heavy burden of provisions, gifts and accouterment.

Kala'amātya reined his red horse to a halt and gazed back over his shoulder, counting those that trailed behind him.

Shadow warrior 3 to kill indifferent clown