After leaving the meeting room, Parthipan finds himself in the lorekeepers' tower ... but Serril is nowhere in sight. There are other lorekeepers milling around, though none of them know where Serril is, either.
From what Parthipan can remember, the method of linking lorekeepers' powers requires a large chalk circle, with a number of subcircles equal to the number of people who are working the spell.... And the lorekeepers who are not leading the spell must completely entrust their will to the leader, or it will fail.
Ginrai runs off to Liandral's room to see if Serril might be there.
Liandral's door is closed when Parthipan gets there -- and barred shut, too. "Go away!" Serril yells from within when he hears Parthipan knock.
"Serril?" Ginrai calls out. "This is Parthipan. I wanted to ask you a question with regards to tonight's battle."
Extended silence meets this question, until the sound of a lot of furniture being moved around sounds, and the door is unbarred. Serril pokes his head out, looks about furitively, and then physically hauls Parthipan into the room and slams the door shut behind him.
The interior of the room is a filthy mess, greasy bits of metal liberally coating almost the entire floor. Liandral is currently sitting at the table, grinning like an idiot and giggling quietly. Qurral sits on the bed and leafs through some notes idly, and the majority of the table is covered with a thick layer of metal pieces, many of which are blood-spattered.
"What is it?" Serril asks, rubbing at his forehead. "We're a tad busy."
"Another draught, Liandral," Qurral says, not looking up from his papers. "Only a sip, mind."
Liandral nods vacantly, fumbles with a greasy cup with his left hand, and sips from it, his eyes becoming even more distant as he sets the cup down, picks it back up, and sets it down again. "Core," he whispers, which sets him into another fit of giggling.
"I see..." Ginrai says, eying the blood-soaked weapons. "Is he going to be alright?
"Anyway, about why I came to see you, Devin came up with a plan which would be able to immediately wipe all of tonight's Dreadmarchers, including the general. This would involve me combining my powers with those of a lorekeeper of the path of fire and that of water. If this works well then I would be able to summon a titan that would make short work of the enemies. The drawback to this, though, is that if it fails it's likely that all of the participants could die. For this to be successful the two linking their powers with me would have to completely entrust their will to me during the spell."
Ginrai looks at Serril directly in the eye. "And with that said I was wondering if you would help me out in casting this spell."
"Yes," Serril says, turning away and bending over the table, towards where Liandral's right hand should be under all that junk.
As a spark of flame leaps from Serril's fingertips, you remember that it's actually Liandral's right stump now. "Unfortunately," he says, grunting as he grabs a pair of pliers with his free hand, lessens the flame, and starts wrenching pieces of hot metal around, "I expect to be busy for a few hours, and won't be able to come up with any more of Qurral's pain-killing medicine in time to complete this operation, so I'm afraid I can't be spared from this." He grunts, as there's a hideous screeching sound of metal on metal.
Liandral shudders, and grimaces, his happy distracted by a wave of pain as a jet of blood spurts out from the mess on the table.
"Ah," Serril says, frowning. "That's a good part of it." Unbolting Liandral's wrist from the clamp stuck there, Serril says, "Now, raise your arm."
Liandral does so, and there's now a black iron skeletal right hand that looks to have been (quite painfully) been grafted onto his stump.
"Good. Accuity test?"
Liandral grunts in pain, as the 'fingers' slowly curl together, a bit more blood seeping from between the points where the metal frame enters his body.
"According to legends, the fair ones were killed by the touch of cold iron," Serril observes to Liandral. "Aren't you glad that's not the case here?"
Liandral nods slowly.
"Good, good. Now, let's try to finish the rest of this quickly, so we can get you healed, and this will only be a memory."
Liandral nods more quickly, and takes another sip from his pain-killing drink.
'Okay... so those weren't weapons but pieces for Liandral's new robotic hand.'
"Auto-mail?" Ginrai accidently mumbles before shaking his head.
"I understand, though this will make my search a bit more difficult. Do you know of any lorekeepers that are good enough to help me out?"
"Not off the top of my head," Serril says, somewhat distracted as he resumes welding Liandral's new hand together. "That Astryd girl seems to like you. Why not ask her?"
Liandral grunts as Serril does something that causes more pain.
"Almost done," he soothes. "Just a few more minutes."
Ginrai shakes his head. "She doesn't follow either of the necessary paths for the spell. Still, I might as well ask her if she knows anyone. Anyway, good luck with Liandral's hand." Ginrai waves and heads back to the tower.
Astryd and Devin (and Radagast and Eske) aren't around the tower when Parthipan returns.
Ginrai looks around to see where those following the path of fire are.
There's a few lorekeepers in the main hall, most of which are minding their own business and flipping through scrolls and books. The majority of lorekeepers are in their rooms, however, and none of them wear anything much more distinctive than the generic brown robes that all lorekeepers wear. Though, come to think of it, Astryd was wearing a really fancy dress the first time you saw her.
Ginrai walks up to closest lorekeepers and asks, "Excuse me, but do you know any lorekeepers who follow either the path of fire or water?"
The lorekeepers seem to recognize that you (being a Windmaster according to Eske and Radagast) outrank them, and quickly run off to assemble the followers of the paths of water and fire. Pretty much every lorekeeper aside from yourself, Devin, Astryd, Radagast, and Eske is here.
Come to think of it, the only ones missing are Mattias, Neil, Ashton, and Serril.
By the numbers, there are five followers of the Path of Water, and 12 of the Path of Fire.
Seeing that everyone that he asked for was there, Ginrai cleared his throat and started his speech.
"Fellow lorekeepers, I had just received an important task from Lord Kevin, one which has important ramifications on tonight's battle as well as for the upcoming days. For this I will need assistance from a lorekeeper following the path of fire as well as one following the path of water. I will warn you that it is a very dangerous task and so whomever decides to help out must be extremely confident with their skills as well as able to completely entrust their will to me for the duration of this task."
After a bit of milling about, two lorekeepers emerge from the crowd.
A youngish looking woman with brown hair named Meg, of the Path of Water, and an older looking man with blond hair named Chris, of the Path of Fire.
Both of them seem pretty confident.
Ginrai bows to the two. "Thank you for agreeing to help me out. Now, we will need to spend some time discussing what to do to prepare for the battle." With that he starts walking to his room.
Meg and Chris follow Parthipan obediently to his room, curious, but not asking questions.
"Well, to get things started, do either of you know of the process involved in combining the powers of lorekeepers?"
Both of the lorekeepers nod. "It was something we practiced with Solariat at the Collegiate," Meg says.
Ginrai nods at that. 'Damn, hopefully I don't need to say anything about Solariat to them.'
"That's good to hear for tonight you two will be linking your powers with mine so that we can summon a Titan and make short work of the Dreadmarch, thereby giving our warriors some well-needed rest as well as more time to plan things out." While he's saying this he tries to recall from his other-self if there's any need to practice this now. "I'm sure the both of you understand the significance of this as well as the danger we'll be in should the spell go awry." After pausing for a moment, he continues. "Are there any questions?"
Parthipan's other-self doesn't recall anything that's required for practice, though a dim memory suggests that prayer may be in order.
"A Titan?" Meg squeaks. "Aren't they dangerous?"
Chris looks excited. "A Titan!" he whispers. "We'll crush the Dreadmarch with that!"
Ginrai tries to recall the prayer necessary for this.
"As I mentioned before there might be some danger in handling the power resulting from the spell, but I feel confident enough that I can handle it. And while the titan will not remain for that long, we will be able to crush the Dreadmarch in the time that it is here." Staring directly at the two of them, he says in a serious tone, "The most important thing necessary for this spell to work is that the both of you are able to completely entrust your will to me during it. Can I have a guarantee that you'll be able to do this?"
As far as Parthipan can recall, probably any prayer would do. Maybe getting a blessing from a priestess wouldn't hurt, though.
"I can do that," Meg says, nodding hesitantly.
Chris has less hesitation and says, "I forsee no problems."
Ginrai checks on if there is any specific time and place for the blessing and if all of the participants have to be there.
Turning to Meg, he says, "If there's anything you wish to say about this, please do so."
No pertinent details come to mind.
"Nothing," she says, shaking her head. "I'm just ... worried about ... a Titan."
"And what is it that you're worried about? The titan itself?"
Ginrai tries to recall what he knows about the titan that'll be summoned.
Parthipan has never seen a Titan before ... but from what little he does recall, they're bigger and fiercer than Jotun.
"They're quite violent, I hear," she ventures. "But I assume you can summon it and not fear?"
Ginrai nods. "Of course. I will be able to control the Titan for the short time that it is here. You'll have nothing to worry about."
"Then ... shall we begin?" Chris asks, glancing at the window, where the moon is only an hour from setting, at most.
"Okay, then. Let's go to a tower and get ready!" Ginrai heads out of his room and waits for the others to follow him.
Devin has apparently already set up the tower when you get there. It's wide, a good twenty meters across, and has a waist-high stone railing around the edges. The flat tiles have been carefully chalked in with symbols. Meg and Chris analyze them for a moment, and then stand in circles marked with flame and water respectively. There's two circles in the center, and two more circles on either side.
Parthipan recognizes the symbols around the center two circles as earth and wind patterns, and the empty circles would contain another fire and water lorekeeper ... evidently Devin didn't expect to be counted out of participating.
Ginrai doesn't say anything when noticing the other circle, though a slight frown does appear on his face. 'Is this going to be okay, Devin?'
While going to the circle marked with the wind pattern, Ginrai recalls what he knows about an Earthmaster combining his powers with that of Fire and Water.
Parthipan doesn't really know too much about the dangers that an Earthmaster would face combining with Water and Fire ... it seems reasonable that it'd be the same as a Windmaster, though, and there are dangers. Generally, taking care should be enough to make it managable, but the very fact that it hasn't been done so far through the siege is a pretty good hint as to the danger involved.
Ginrai checks if there's anything else that he currently needs to do as well as what else he'll have to do to link their powers when casting the spell.
Clarity of mind is important. Begining the ritual shouldn't take too long....
Ginrai takes a deep breath and exhales as he looks out to see how much longer it'll be before battle starts and the current position of the Dreadmarch.
The moon is setting as you watch. It'd probably be a good time to establish the spell now.
'Show time!'
Ginrai starts to cast the spell.
At first, there is nothing.
And then, there is a light, the brightest of the stars piercing through the cloud-cover, and gently illuminating the heavens. The clouds are slowly swirling, gently forming a vortex that deepens, and lowers itself from the vault of the sky, and down to earth.
The Dreadmarch skids to a halt in disarray, as the winds pick up and whirl faster, pennants and hair, along with loose debris sliding across the battlefield.
Then, bolts of electricity the thickness of great tree-trunks leap up from the sky, and down the from above, joining in a massive sphere that seems to dwarf the keep in size, and the sun in brightness.
When the flash fades, and all look up, the orb is gone, and in its place, shedding light across the field, is a massive creature, twice the scale of a Jotun, sinking quickly to the earth. It's nondescript, without facial features, clothing, or hair.
It's got skin of ice, whirling across flesh of sharp, cutting winds, with bones of fire-bright lightning. Looking at it, it looks like the most destructive ice-storm imaginable coupled with the fiercest thunder ever spawned from a dark sky. The skin of ice barely restrains the high-speed, visible wind beneath, and it raises two arms into the sky, well above the height of the keep, as its legs touch the ground.
For all of its size and scale, there are no fingers, no feet, no hands ... merely limbs. But it strides across the battlefield towards the enemy regardless. The Dreadmarch rallies against their foe, but none can reach it -- the winds carry them aloft. Once airborne, the minions of the Dreadmarch are pierced by meter-long spears of ice, and shot through with wider and brighter bolts of electricity that spring from the creature itself.
The General appears -- not cowering behind his armies, but leading a force of seven Jotun at the Titan.
The General himself looks to be another troll, and he resists the forces that throw the other troops around effortlessly. The battle is brief -- for while the Titan has a physical body of ice, wind, and lightning, none of the Jotun, or the General, can harm it.
The Jotun clubs launch shards of ice away, but don't disrupt the winds, or stop the lightning. Then the Titan reaches out and embraces the General, who writhes against the electricity for nearly a solid minute before he vanishes into ash.
But after this, even though he appeared to be the General, no moon rises -- instead, the Titan stalks after the Jotun, brutally clubbing them apart, shattering them, and then burning their bones into cinders with its lightning.
Only after the last of the Jotun is slain, and the majority of the Dreadmarch is washed away, does the moon rise.
Then, the Titan throws back its arms, and throws its head back, a mouth appearing in the whirling maelstrom of its otherwise featureless face, and roars -- in defiance? In victory?
It's uncertain, but its wordless roar conveys a great sense of sadness, and all who witness the Titan dissipating feel an undeniable sense of melancholy. And then a breeze washes across the field, and no evidence of the Titan remains.
On Parthipan's tower, once the Titan vanishes, Chris's body vanishes instantly in a flash of bright flame, and ash drifts to the ground where he stood. Meg merely reels and collapses, blood running from her ears and nose.
Parthipan only has time to observe this before he loses awareness of his surroundings and passes out.
Parthipan now moves to Cloud Age Symphony (http://pishoque.net/phpBB2/viewtopic.php?p=40446#40446).
Dracos shook his head, turning to any messangers or commanders nearby. "Have the men head back in."
Dracos looks for Nathan, and, when he finds him:
"Is it just me, or do you also get the feeling that something...very stupid and very dangerous just happened? I think we should get you and those going with you moving as of an hour ago."
Dracos
Nathan shrugs.
"I don't presume to guess. We aren't the tacticians, and . . ." Nathan lowers his voice, "I assume you saw what didn't happen when the general died. And I'm getting to it."
Nathan looks around for Alec. And Eric. Where are those two?
Dracos nodded slightly, his voice also low. "Couldn't have missed it. Hopefully most the men did though."
Dracos
Nathan shakes his head, and continues in the same tone. "Don't be stupid. I'd rather they find out now than risk a panic if it happens next time."
He turns to Alec.
"Anyway, Alec . . . the latest piece of fun. How good are you at stealth and sneaking?"
"Not too good," Alec says, frowning. "Um. Someone asked me to give this to you, though."
Alec hands Nathan a piece of paper, which has a message scrawled on it -- in English.
Meet me in the library. I trust you and Parth, but no one else.
It's unsigned.
Nathan blinks, then after reading crumples up the piece of paper and sticks it in a belt pouch.
"Thanks. The reason I was asking was . . ." he looks around and lowers his tone to be sure they can't be overheard, "they're sending me south to the Archonae with a few lorekeepers to do some sneaking around, and . . . well, yeah," Nathan winces, "I'm sorry to leave you behind, but . . ."
Alec looks unhappy, but nods. "I understand," he says quietly.
"I'm sorry, but . . . well," he lowers his voice some and takes Alec aside, "Can you do me a favour anyway? Keep an eye on Phil, and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid and get himself killed."
Nathan rolls his eyes and grins.
"That's not a license to dive in front of another jotun club, though - got it?"
Dracos rubbed his beard, a thought suddenly coming to him, waiting for Nathan to finish his apparently private conversation. "Nathan, remember what Radagast said down in the vaults about the moonlight and it's relation to the crystal of Lienne?"
Dracos
From his place in the Keep ranks, away from both Philip and Nathan, Bjorn watched the Titan's rampage with cold eyes.
When it finished, he turned, and saw about overseeing the standing down of the troops. When that job is finished, he seeks out Lammermore.
The troops are all in excelent condition, since there was no combat today, though they seem a bit stunned ... at least, the ones who saw the Titan do, anyway.
Lammermore is not too far away, watching the men file back into the camp, and leave the courtyard.
Phil and Nathan now move to Masquerade (http://pishoque.net/phpBB2/viewtopic.php?p=40408#40408).
Bjorn approaches Sir Lammermore. "An easy battle," he says softly.
"It would seem so," Lammermore supplies somewhat doubtfully, glancing across the field before the great doors rachet closed.
"A little too convenient, though, I think," he says dropping his voice.
Bjorn lowers his own voice to match. "Perhaps," he says. "That would have been a fearsome battle had it not been for the Titan, I think."
Lammermore nods. "Bjorn, I'd like you to do me a favor -- since I'm not needed here at the moment, I'm going to help Lord Kevin search for Durant. Can you keep an eye on the men for me until I return?"
"Of course." Bjorn smiles briefly. "Not that there's much to do, seeing as we won't need to so much as refill a single quiver."
"Just in case," Lammermore says. Bjorn notices at this point that Lammermore is not carrying the Sword of Seven Shadows -- he's just got his own, more traditional blade on hand.
Bjorn nods. "Very well." He frowns at Lammermore's sword, and then back up at him. "Your blade is with Ekim, then?" he asks, very quietly.
"That's ... actually Kevin's blade, but yes," he says, rubbing at one temple with a grimace, and not meeting your eyes. "It's ... not good to be badly wounded while using that weapon."
Bjorn nods slowly. "I... see."
"At any rate," Lammermore says dismissively. "Good luck to you." With that, he strides into the keep.
Bjorn bows after Lammermore, and then turns around, seeing what needs to be done.
There's not a whole lot to do, except for oversee the men who're standing down ... unless one wants to sit in and watch the first game of Hunter-Hunted, which Jeff is setting up an arena for to one side of the keep right at the moment.
Bjorn turns his attention to overseeing the men standing down, moving among them and providing assistance where needed.
After about an hour of this, Bjorn runs out of things that need doing.
Thinking for a second, Bjorn finds a quiet spot out of the way, closes his eyes, and once again feels through the mindboard to both the Lindsey and Durant smudges.
Lindsey remains blocked off ... and Bjorn gets the uncomfortable sensation that Durant may actually be dead. There's a difference between being blocked off and someone just not BEING there anymore. The smuge remains, it's just like it doesn't connect to anyone.
Bjorn lets the mindboard vanish, letting himself concentrate instead on his surroundings.
Opening his eyes, he considers. All right. Everything's done up here, so... Squaring his shoulders, he makes his way down to the prison.
Bjorn makes his way down to the prison. There's guards around it, most of them running with messages and eyeing every hallway suspicously. The prison room itself is a mess -- the men weren't just killed, they were brutally slaughtered.
The wounds appear consistant with a knife, but all of the guards are hacked open, sliced apart, and in general, brutalized. All of them have completely unblemished faces (frozen in expressions of shock and surprise), save the executioner, who had both eyes stabbed out by a knife long enough to leave exit wounds on the back of his head.
It's pretty grisly. Kevin is standing in a corner, speaking with four very angry looking Blackguards, and Lammermore is standing nearby, watching uncomfortably.
Bjorn studies the corpses dispassionately for a second, trying to determine if they were taken by surprise (were there weapons out? blood on the weapons?) before heading closer to Lammemore.
Their weapons are neatly stacked in a corner, as far as Bjorn can tell untouched since the attack. The executioner's axe was out, but there's no real guarantee he was either holding it, or even knew how to use it as a weapon. The dead guards' spears are unbloodied.
Bjorn nods at Lammermore as he gets closer. "Sir Lammemore," he says, quietly, by way of greeting. "The standing down is finished. How goes it here?"
"Poorly," Lammermore says, shaking his head. "The evident suggestion is that Verrik escaped, killed the guards, and then left. But that seems unlikely to me. My trap for Lindsey failed. There was no knife in the room I expected her to run to ... and my guards did not see any doors open, invisibility or otherwise.
"The Blackguard aren't able to discern what's going on any better than we are, and they're upset at being pulled from their standard watch. For what it's worth, entry guards saw Linsdsey came here, straight away from the meeting, to speak with Verrik. I can't ask these guards what happened," he adds, gesturing to the corpses, "but the entry guards also passed a servant through with food for the prisoners.
"This food was evidently delivered without any problems -- unless this servant delivered the knife. Unfortunately, she's nowhere to be found.... The kitchens don't recall anyone being sent down today with food. Usually a guard brings food down. And when he arrived, he found this.
"That servant did leave, but we don't have a good description. Lord Kevin is trying to put everything together and find out what's going on." Lammermore shrugs.
Bjorn grimaces. "Perhaps I am biased," he says, quietly, "but I still feel that it is dangerous to assume without question that Durant was truly Verrik. In the end, we only have the word of a proven traitor for that -- but then, that's beside the point, at the moment. We have to find both Durant and whoever helped him escape -- or whoever took him."
He looks at Lammermore. "You spoke of the servant bringing the knife," he points out. "Do you mean Verrik's knife, in particular?"
"Yes," Lammermore says, nodding. "I claimed it was locked away as a trap. In truth, it was in Ekim's forge. None saw it removed, and there were twenty guards watching the area."
"There were guards watching this place," Bjorn points out grimly, "and it stopped neither the killing nor the assassin from escaping." His eyes stray over to the bodies again, and then he looks back at Lammermore. "It might be excessive caution," he says quietly, "but I think it might be best if I went to ask Lord Ekim to confirm that he still has the knife. Unless you have objections, Sir Lammermore?"
"We already know he doesn't," Lammermore clarifies. "Which was the point." He shrugs helplessly. "So. This is what we have." He gestures to the corpses vaguely, and grimaces.
Bjorn studies the corpses again. Looks like they were butchered, he thinks. Hm. Blood stops flowing on death, so amount of blood spread around is an indicator of how much was done when they were alive, right? Just how messy is this place?
Out loud, to Lammermore, he asks, "Has anyone gone looking for Mistress Lindsey?"
There's not actually too much blood lying around -- the guards (on closer examination) were probably killed first, and then hacked at later. It would take a bit of time, one supposes, to find the keys, unlock all the locked doors in the room, and probably have an argument or conversation with the prisoners who were released. Though, an exact number on other prisoners would be helpful.
"And what of the other prisoners?" he asks, looking at Lammermore. "There were... three others, you said? What happened to them?"
"No sign of them," Lammermore says, frowning. "Nothing to make them stand out in a crowd when they presumably fled."
Bjorn frowns. "Didn't the guards at the entry see them leave?"
Lammermore blinks. "They couldn't all have snuck past," he says, thinking about this. "Hm. Perhaps they got lost ... and are stuck in the Interer's quarters--" No sooner does he say this than the four Blackguards around Kevin step away and break into a full-out run for the exit. The other guards leap out of the way.
Kevin looks vexed, and rubs at his chin thoughtfully.
Lammermore grunts. "Well," he says dryly. "I imagine we'll find out about _that_ soon enough ... though I doubt there are any unwatched passages between here and the Interer's domain." He nods at a guard, and calls him over. "You! Robert! You know this area -- find out every place between here and the stairs leading to the keep proper that three prisoners could be hiding." Robert nods, and turns to leave, and Lammermore quickly adds, "But stay away from the Interer's areas."
The guard nods again, and jogs away.
Bjorn turns and studies the walls, frowning, before looking down at the filthy floor to see if he can spot footprints. "Is there any chance of another way to enter this room?" he says, thoughtfully.
"Only if it were through a cell. And those are always kept locked," Lammermore says, shaking his head, and then glancing at the executioner's block. "...or under that," he adds.
Bjorn doesn't see any footprints (bloody or otherwise) throughout the room. But there is a large grating in the floor around the stone block.
Bjorn delicately steps through the mess over to the grating, and then squats down, examining both it and whatever's underneath it carefully without touching it.
About maybe ten CM below the grating, there's a layer of dark, brackish water, flecked with ice. No telling how deep it is. Or if it's really water.
Bjorn studies the grate itself, looking for scratches, scrapes in the dirt, or rust broken loose that might suggest the grate had been moved recently.
The grate looks pretty sturdy. It's rusty, pitted, and coated generously in grime.
It doesn't seem likely that someone would be able to get in beneath it, and the giant stone block is wedging it in place pretty well. Also, the stone block is neatly centered, but not actually attatched to the grate. Anyone who moved the grate would need to be pretty careful to avoid moving the weight from the center.
Bjorn stands again, surveying the room. Shaking his head, he turns back to Lammermore. "A nice little puzzle," he says, drily.
A thought occurs to him, and he racks his other-self's memories of the Upper Kingdoms to find out what he can about the Blackguard.
Bjorn is unable to recall anything about the Blackguard. Most likely, his former self was only peripherally aware of them, if at all.
While waiting for the Blackguard or Robert to return, Bjorn makes his way to Durant's former cell, to examine its condition carefully.
The cell is pretty clean, for the most part. On the left side, in the corner (the cell is what looks to be a two meter wide by four meter long rectangle, with the door on one of the short sides) is a kind of lumpy looking matress, with bits of straw poking through holes in the seams.
There's a clean, but ragged blanket there, along with a plate, a bowl, and a spoon. The handle of the spoon is flat, with what were probably squared corners, but they've been worn rounded by being scratched against the walls.
Durant apparently marked something off, but probably not time. Whatever it was, there's a nice set of tally marks adding up to 'nineteen' over the bowl. And another group of nineteen further to the left. And the right. And the one on the cieling is particularly impressive ... but is kind of confusing as to what it all means.
Bjorn glances back and forth between the various sets of tally marks, trying to see if they are in the same geometric pattern, or if there's anything in particular about their placement (with respect to each other, or anything else in the cell).
They would all be visible from someone who were to lie down on the bed, and there are exactly nineteen groups of ninteen tallies. Other than that, they don't appear (at a glance) to be related.
Bjorn frowns at this. What the... Why would Paul do anything like this?
He steps out the cell, still puzzling this over, to see if the guards have returned.
The guards, in fact, return just as Bjorn exits the cell, looking a bit winded.
Bjorn watches them as he waits for them to give Kevin their report.
Robert and two of the Blackguard return at the same time. Robert eyes the Blackguard uncomfortably. They pretty much ignore him.
After a moment, Kevin coughs pointedly, and Robert flinches, walking towards Kevin without looking away from the Blackguard until the last minute. Oddly, as soon as Robert looks away, the Blackguard seem to flicker and blend into the shadows, relaxing (somewhat) as they do so.
"Sir," he says, saluting smartly. "No convicts have hidden between here and the Interer's domain."
"Nor within," one of the Blackguard says.
Kevin nods thoughtfully, and turns to look at Bjorn questioningly.
"Unless they were Gatekeepers," Bjorn points out, a bit drily, "we must be missing something." He frowns thoughtfully, staring at nothing. "It seems unlikely that they managed to take advantage of the confusion to sneak unnoticed by the guards. That leaves us with two options. Either they took advantage of another way out of the dungeons -- one which we don't know -- or they managed to hide themselves very well." He shrugs. "Perhaps they were taken out of here by our invisible assassin? But then the question is: why?" He looks at Lammermore.
Lammermore shakes his head. "A possibility, but the reasons of the assasin are beyond me," he says grimly, running one hand across his chin, and through his trimmed beard.
"Well," Kevin says thoughtfully, looking between the grate and the cell. "Reasons are simple enough. Most likely the convicts would simply be released as a smoke-screen, or to cause confusion." He frowns at this. "But if this were the case, our assasin wouldn't have smuggled the others out. He would leave them to run free and draw attention to themselves ... and away from him.
"I can only assume that either the convicts are dead for inconveniencing our assasin, or now working for him, which is why he went through the trouble of releasing them." He pauses, and surveys the corpses, not flinching away from the sight. "So. Our assasin killed all of the guards easily. They weren't overpowered by the prisoners and then killed. There is no blood on the guard's weapons. No witnesses remain alive ... or at least, here. If they got past the watch, then we may be in trouble indeed...."
Kevin sighs, and shakes his head. "This is hopeless. Lammermore, we'll need to find someone to take care of this ... I'm going to go ask Radagast if he can help us find someone invisible." He turns to survey his aides one last time, giving Lammermore and Bjorn a chance to speak before leaving.
"With your permission, I think I'll speak to Lord Ekim, as well," Bjorn offers. "More prosaic means might have played a part, too. If he doesn't himself know of the Keep's construction, he might know where to find details."
Lammermore grunts, and shifts his shoulders slightly. At that, half of the dozen guards in the room move to follow Lord Kevin.
Kevin himself doesn't seem to notice, and nods at Bjorn. "Good thinking. We'll discuss this later and share what we've gleaned, then. Good luck." And with that, he turns away, escorted by dozens of guards.
The Blackguard watch him leave, and then move towards the exit, vanishing from sight before they reach it.
Bjorn watches the Blackguard leave, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully, and then looks over at Lammermore with an inqusitive expression, as if to ask, "So, what do you think?"
"I think we've been tossed a barrel of red slippers," he says, shaking his head. "One of them's real, but you can't tell which one." Lammermore straightens up, and looks at the guards for a moment, considering something and then says, "I'll have a tighter watch put on this place ... though I think the message was that if they wanted Mattias, they would have had him."
Bjorn grunts. "Has anyone questioned Mattias?" he asks.
"It didn't work well last time," Lammermore says dourly. "You can take another crack at if it you want."
Bjorn shrugs. "Might as well," he says. "Words are cheap." He looks around. "Could someone please open his cell?"
A few guards do as you ask, revealing the Wardmaster ... or Runic ... to be in the same state he was left in, though he does look up warily when the door opens.
Bjorn nods his thanks at the guard as he steps into the cell. "Master Mattias," he greets the bound man. "I'd ask how you were doing, but I think that might be a bit of a hollow courtesy."
"I've been better," he replies dryly. "And before you ask, I didn't think to prepare a 'slaughter the guards and free the prisoners' rune."
"I didn't really think you had," Bjorn says, equally wryly. "But I was wondering if you'd be willing to share anything you might have heard."
Mattias closes his eyes and sighs. After a moment, when it seems he's shut off the outside world and is ignoring everything, he says, "The door opened. I heard that. There was laughter. A woman's voice. Then a surprised yell -- a shriek of pain, maybe. That lasted for only seconds ... then there was silence."
His eyes open, and he looks at Bjorn warily. "Then there was the sound of doors being unlocked, and a pause, during which I assume there was a conversation I couldn't pick out ... and then the sounds of footsteps running away." There is another pause there. "And then the guards came."
Bjorn frowns. "You could hear the footsteps, but not the conversation?"
"I am aware of the reverberations through the floor," he says, starting to half-shrug before his restraints keep him from doing so. "I may not feel pain, but that does not make me unaware."
"Did you recognize the woman's voice, by any chance?"
"No," he says, shaking his head slightly. "I've not heard her voice before."
Bjorn nods at that. "Thank you, Master Mattias," he says, gravely. "Is there anything I could do for you? Within reason, of course."
"Unless you've found a way to free me," he says, shaking his head again.
"A hint," Bjorn replies, "no more." He nods. "Good day to you, Master Mattias."
Stepping out of the cell, he looks for Lammermore.
The guards seal the door up behind you. Lammermore is brooding in front of Durant's cell thoughtfully.
Bjorn jerks his head back at Mattias' cell. "Did you hear that?" he asks.
Lammermore nods moodily. "If it can be trusted, it does not help us .. but at least it is more information."
Bjorn frowns. "I think finding Mistress Lindsey has become a large priority."
Lammermore raises an eyebrow. "I suspected her as well," he says. "You have some proof?"
"Proof?" Bjorn says, raising an eyebrow. "No. But she excused herself just before this matter occurred, Mattias claims a woman was involved, and no one has seen her since, as far as I know -- not to mention the capability of the servants of Aestock. It makes her a bit of a suspect, I'd say."
Lammermore grunts. "It's suspicious, alright," he agrees. "But we need something more solid. We can't risk being baited into attacking our own ... it would only weaken us against the Dreadmarch."
"Agreed," Bjorn says. "But that makes it all the more important to find her quickly and settle this. If we can't find her... well, be she traitor or betrayed, we need to know."
Lammermore leans into Durant's cell, and looks at some of the tally marks for a minute before replying. "Well," he says at length. "This is true, as well. It ... shouldn't be hard to send an official summons to fetch her. We just need a believable reason to do so."
Bjorn shrugs. "We could say we wanted her opinion on the part of the meeting that she missed," he suggests. "Not unreasonable, that -- she is the representative of Aestock here."
He frowns over Lammermore's shoulder at the markings on the cell. "What do you make of that, by the bye?"
"I've no clue," Lammermore says, shaking his head. "Perhaps it's a puzzle, or a game. Perhaps something else. On the matter of Lindsey, however ... that should work. I think we'd best do that now, before any chances to recover her balance, as it were."
Bjorn nods at that. "Shall we seek her out?" he asks. "Or speak with Lord Kevin, and arrange a meeting?"
"I think we should seek her out," Lammermore decides. "Kevin has enough to keep him busy. Should we find anything, we can take it to him. If not ... then there was nothing to alarm him about anyway." Rising, Lammermore cracks his knuckles, and then starts to move towards the doorway.
Pausing long enough to study the walls of Durant's former cell one last time, hoping futilely for some insight, Bjorn follows Lammermore.
Bjorn is unable to glean any further information on the nineteen times nineteen scratches. After leaving the execution chamber, Lammermore is followed (at a few steps back) by a quartet of guards, though he doesn't appear to notice.
A few hallways and stairs later, and the entrance to the basements is reached. Liandral is pacing back and forth there, both hands looking (surprisingly) intact, though he is wearing thin white gloves. He ceases pacing upon seeing Lammermore and Bjorn.
"Ah," he says, before either can ask any questions. "There you are. I was wondering if you could help me -- I'm trying to find Madame Lindsey, but she appears to be missing."
Bjorn glances over at Lammermore. "In fact, we were just about to go looking for her ourselves," he replies urbanely. "Have you asked any of the vassals assigned to her?"
"Yeah," Liandral says, frowning as his left hand rubs at his right wrist. "But they don't know where she is, either. This ... is going to be problematic."
Lammermore frowns. "How can her own vassals not know where she is?" he asks, somewhat doubtfully. "I grow suspicious, Liandral. It occurs to me that we should question those same vassals about this more closely."
Bjorn scrubs at his chin. "If I recall correctly, the vassal who was with her followed her from the meeting room," he says. "He must have some idea where she is. And the guards outside the meeting chamber should have at least noticed which way she went."
Lammermore frowns. "That's true, but from the meeting room she would have gone from sight of the guards to the stairs no matter where she went," he warns.
Liandral nods, and then adds, "I haven't spoken with that specific vassal, yet, so questioning him might still be in order."
Eyeing Liandral, Lammermore grunts. "We shall see," he says neutrally.