After a long and boring meeting involving quite a bit of drinking, Philip has finally overseen the last of the Storm-rider promotions, and is released from his tent ... just as the moon is setting.
A general commotion seems to indicate that something is happening in the courtyard -- probably gearing up for the next day of the siege. Dashing into the keep, Phil gets directions to the library, where Lord Kevin is once more. He looks better rested this time around. Loremasters Radagast, Eske, and Mattias are also there.
"I've sent guards for the others," he says, frowning. "Eske, can you allow Bjorn to return here?"
The old man nods, and gestures, opening another tear in reality, which reveals an empty room with a candle-lit table. There's a bundle of cloth on it, shaped more or less like a sword, but nothing else can be seen.
"Bjorn," Lord Kevin calls through the portal. "The next day of the siege is upon us!"
Parthipan is lead into the room by a paid of guards, who stop at the door, and looks around sleepily. "But ... I had a plan," he says plaintively, in a very quiet voice.
Bjorn and Nathan (and five other Storm-riders) come through the portal, before it vanishes.
"Well," Lord Kevin says, rubbing his eyes, as though waking up. "Did you have any luck?"
"I'm afraid not, my Lord," Bjorn replies, gravely.
Rez merely shakes his head, and does not speak.
"Well, no matter. Next time, we'll put in normal guards. I'm sure the trap will work, given time," he says. "I hope you got some rest while waiting, though.
"Now, I--"
He's cut off then by a breathless page running into the room, bypassing the guards even when they raise their spears. "Lord Kevin!" he yells, falling to the floor of the library and sliding a few paces across it (also, incidentally, managing to just miss being cut with a pike). "The Dreadmarch is advancing already!"
"But -- how can this be?" Radagast asks, blinking in astonishment. "The moon has not yet set!"
"Worry about 'how' later. Do we have a plan?"
"It may be an illusion," Bjorn says, speaking switfly. "Someone, perhaps Madame Astryd, should check on that. Failing that, they have a ward, or they are using humans tonight, and it does not matter." He looks around, seeing if Devin and Astryd are present. "Are the earthenworks restored?"
"How many of them are there?" Kevin asks, climbing to his feet. "We need to make a plan -- Eske, can you take us to the courtyard?"
Eske nods, and a portal opens up to the courtyard, looking out from the dragon-perch/pedastal, so as not to cut any of the soldiers running around the courtyard frantically. The archers are rushing to take their positions, and the moon is still visible, though it's halfway set.
"One second, my Lord," Bjorn says, and runs as fast as he can for the top of the wall, to look out at the Dreadmarch.
Rez jogs quickly after Shorty.
The pair of you are followed by everyone else, and the archers (even in their panic) make way for this group. Some guards see that Lord Kevin is essentially unescorted and break away from their posts to provide him with protection. Against what, at this point, is unknown, though.
After negotiating the switchbacks, you find yourselves on the ramparts, reasonably near Dorian, who's holding his bow to one side and looking down at the battlefield in consternation.
A single man is strolling across the field from the Dreadmarch at the speed of a casual walk. He's wearing white, and a white cloak besides. "Ah!" Parthipan exclaims, pointing at him. "He's the one I saw!"
Bjorn studies the man for a second, and then turns his attention to focus on the disposition of the rest of the Dreadmarch.
They look like they're still asleep -- no one is getting into formation and preparing to charge.
"I sense no wards," Mattias says, after a moment.
Radagast grunts. "He must have been sent out to give us a message," the aged wizard opines.
"I'd be inclined to just have someone shoot him if he gets anywhere near us, personally."
Bjorn shrugs. "With your permission, Lord Kevin, I will go parley with him. If he comes too close, or should I suffer an accident, then Sir Shuker can carry out his plan."
"I'm sure he was chosen for many personal details, among them, expendability," Radagast warns.
"If he wants to talk, we'll hear him from the ground," Kevin says dourly. "We're not letting him into the keep."
"Just as he is expendable," Bjorn points out, "so are most of the people here. With your permission, my Lord, I will meet him at the halfway point."
"I don't really see what the point in listening to him is, in all honesty. If they're doing this they think it's to their benefit, so really I think we're better off just shooting him."
Rez shrugs.
"If you insist," Lord Kevin says doubtfully to Bjorn. "Though I agree with Nathan."
Rez levels a flat stare at Bjorn.
"You're going to insist on this idiocy, aren't you?"
"They may think that a parlay would be to their benefit," Bjorn says, coolly, ignoring most of what Nathan said. "But that does not mean that it will be, or that we cannot extract benefit from it ourselves. We lack knowledge about our enemies, and now they provide us with an opportunity to gain some."
He bows. "I will return soon, my Lord." And with that, he makes his way down to the gates, and through them, out to the battlefield, to meet the man in white.
Rez exhales loudly.
"He's not going out there alone. Alec, wait here - and see if the gatemaster can drop a gate out there should things go . . . awry."
Moving quickly, he heads after Bjorn.
"I cannot create a gate on the field," Eske warns. "The Seal prevents it."
The two of you rush down the switchbacks, to where the men are already opening the inner door of the gate -- the outer remains closed.
When Nathan catches up with him, Bjorn eyes him out of the corner of his eye, and then nods. "All right," he says. "I won't be so stupid as to say I'm not grateful for back-up. Just do me a favour, and keep your mouth shut, and your face blank, all right?"
The inner door finishes opening with a dul 'whud'.
The men who run the gear that causes it to open look at you expectantly.
Stepping forward, through the inner gate, Bjorn says courteously, "Thank you. And the outer gate?"
"Once you're inside," the gatehouse guard says dourly. "May Liene watch over you where we cannot."
"Hammar guides us to victory," Bjorn says, as he leads Nathan forward up to the outer gate. "Even if we fall, we will not fail."
Rez walks through with Bjorn.
"I can reign in my tongue when I have to, you know. And there ain't no way you're going out here alone."
With the sound of a heavy weight on a ratcheted chain, the doors slam shut, leaving you trapped between in completet darkness.
You can hear each breath you take, and then the outer gate begins to slowly open, revealing the field, and the man (still walking forward -- he's at about the midway point now), all neatly illuminated by moonlight.
"Don't get me wrong," Bjorn says, quietly, as he steps through the gate opening and makes his way confidently towards the Dreadmarch herald. "I want the back-up. But you've got a nasty habit of letting surprise carry you away, and I suspect we'll need to be delicate here. So just be big and scary-looking, and pay close attention to what he says, and what he does."
Rez nods, and they walk quietly for a few seconds.
"Do we intend to let him walk back to the dreadmarch after we talk to him?"
The man continues walking towards you -- he's about four hundred meters away at the moment.
"If we can kill him, then doing so wouldn't accomplish much," Bjorn points out. He grins, coldly. "And let's see whether or not I can touch him, mm? Regardless, no point in deciding that yet. Let's see how the parley goes."
"I don't know, from what Gin saw he seemed fairly high up . . . capturing might not be bad, if we can, though they may expect that."
Rez continues walking quietly.
"The Dreadmarch aren't fools," Bjorn says. "If they thought we could take this man out, then they would be certain that it wouldn't affect their plans overmuch. Well. We'll see what we'll see."
And with that, he falls silent, as they get closer and closer to the man, aiming to stop just out of his combat reach.
You continue walking until you're about ten meters from the man, who doesn't appear to plan on stopping any time soon.
"Hail," Bjorn says, simply, putting himself directly in front of the man.
He pauses, and looks at Bjorn like he wasn't expecting to see him there, then frowns a bit. "Huh," he says. "You shouldn't have left your home, little boy."
At that, Bjorn is slammed to the ice and thrown towards the wall of Stormwall keep at an unsettling velocity.
Bjorn rolls to his feet, Breke's blades in his hands in a flash. He doesn't bother with witticisms, but simply moves in to attack.
The moment Nathan sees Bjorn go down, he charges forward and attempts a move-through - since his sword is already in his hand, and all. He should try this no-scabbard thing more often.
You rush past him -- and hit. As your sword goes into his chest, he reaches out and grabs it, jarring you to a halt, as the blade refuses to let go of your hands. "Not bad," he says. "Heart's up here." Blood is pouring from the wound, but he earnestly corrects your angle, "And push hard to sever the spine," he adds, forcing your blade through his chest, out his back, and then collapsing to the ground, releasing your blade.
Off towards the wall, Bjorn has skidded to a halt and regained his feet. He's still a good fifty meters away, though; you suspect one of the loremasters helped him stop.
Bjorn: You're dizzy, and feel a little out of it -- what he hit you with reminded you an awful lot of that Archon you pissed off. But you're okay, and the ice mysteriously slowed you down before helping you to your feet and turning back into snow.
Bjorn shakes his head, cleaing it just in time to see the man's little performance. Drawing his swords and breaking into a run, he makes his way over to Nathan, keeping himself alert and ready.
People who pull swords through their body, he suspects, are the sort of people who get back up again after.
Rez promptly chops down to remove the man's head - and if successful, kicks it as far as possible that-a-way.
Rez succeeds in decaptiating the man and kicking his head away. The man is standing nearby, looking at his own body with clinical detachment -- neither of you saw a second one, or saw him reappear, but he's there none-the-less.
"Fascinating," he says. "Now, little boys, back to the keep before your hurt yourself," he says, gesturing dismissively.
Ah. That's how it is, then.
Bjorn readies his swords, still charging in.
He doesn't put out a hand, or say a word of power, or do anything else that you can discern other than continue trudging towards the keep. But both Bjorn and Nathan find themselves suspended in midair, being towed along a few meters behind him as he walks towards the keep.
Bjorn struggles briefly, but quickly realizes the futility of it. Instead, he relaxes, keep himself ready, and stares at the man watchfully.
He doesn't put out a hand, or say a word of power, or do anything else that you can discern other than continue trudging towards the keep. But both Bjorn and Nathan find themselves suspended in midair, being towed along a few meters behind him as he walks towards the keep. He ignores you, then, until he's about fifty meters from the keep.
"Good people of Stormwall!" he calls out, looking up at the crowded ramparts. "In the future, I suggest you keep your dogs on leashes."
With that, he sends both Bjorn and Rezantiz hurtling towards the battlements. Luckily, Alec, Eric, and Phil manage to grab the pair at the apex of the throw, and pull them back onto the ramparts.
Bjorn sheathes his swords, once put on his feet, and moves to the edges of the rampart. He still doesn't say anything, but instead, simply watches the man like a hawk.
Rez lands, and steps back to the rampart wordlessly, leaning on the edge and looking irritable.
The man chuckles, to the silence on the ramparts. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Elric. The Undying." He grins, his voice carrying to everyone on the ramparts, and apparently, the towers above.
"Thought I'd just drop in ... say hello to my neighbors. See how you were doing," he says. "Also, wanted to catch up on things ... see how everything has been." He buffs his nails on his white cloak. "I see that two days into the siege, you've lost a hero ... your guard captain is incapacitated ... and your replacement heroes are like small dogs. Great big bark ... but no real bite."
Kevin growls at this, but says nothing.
Bjorn doesn't acknowledge the insults. He doesn't really acknowledge anything. Instead, he studies the man, memorizing his face, the pattern of his armour, the sound of his voice. He bends his ears to listen to the undertones of the man's voice, listening for confidence, for bluffs, for hidden meanings. His face is a blank portrait of focus, as he stares down, unblinking, from the ramparts.
Rez calls back.
"Whereas you, two days into the siege, have lost two generals in no time flat, a stack of supply caravans, a fair whack of jotun, about . . . a hundred thousand or so orcs? And, so sorry, how many of us did you get for that score?"
"But I see you're curious about how I'm doing," he says, shrugging. "Well, that's complicated. See, I'm a child of an elder god, and therefore, kept busy by a demanding father. He'd like to see a new game ... so your defeat is inevitable.
"Therefore, we've decided to give you this chance to evacuate, and flee. Once you do so ... you have a chance of living a relatively normal life. Or not, at the whim of those more powerful than even I.
"But, you're a stuborn lot -- that happens with people who aren't very bright, and have short attention spans. If you continue fighting us, you will find that our allies are stronger than you can dream ... an Archon has joined us, and a Dwarf. And we've already the greatest of the Jotun.
"Again, your loss is inevitable. Even if you succeed in destroying every minion in the army behind me, and then, killing all of my generals ... you cannot kill me. If it comes to that, on the final day, I will become the general. And since I cannot die, you cannot win. Alone, if I must, I will crush all of you.
"But I am human, and therefore give you the merciful chance to flee." He smiles. "Be pleased that tonight we will nail one of my army to the stones outside of your bowshot. He will be the general, and you will have until he perishes to rest. To flee. Because you cannot win.
"I've made my point, as your dogs have demonstrated. I stand before you, alone, vulnerable, immortal. Appease your anger on my mortal frame," he concludes, throwing his arms wide.
Dorian Shivershaft blurs into action, firing three arrows in rapid succession -- all the other archers join the assault, thousands of arrows converging on a single man. The lorekeepers on the towers throw flame, lightning, ice, and things that you've never seen before.... And even though Elric is struck dead and sundered, and worse, he continues to stand to one side, still smiling.
After a minute, Lord Kevin shouts, "Enough!" and the assault trickles to a halt, the last few sheepish shafts and bolts of energy adding another corpse to the formidible pile that Elric sits on impatiently.
"Anger?" Bjorn says -- not shouting, but pitching his voice to carry. "We have no anger. It is not rage which fuels us, or hate. It is determination. We will not fail, because we have chosen not to let failure be an option for us."
He looks down at Elric, impassively. "Tonight we will kill any and all that you throw against us, and then we will kill your 'general.' The moon shall rise again, and we will still be standing here. And the same shall repeat every night. Even if you make yourself general, you will find that while you might be undying, you can and will be broken."
Indifferently, he looks towards the sky. "The moon will set soon. You should get back to your friends and find your hammer and nails, so that you can pin your general to his rock. Or would you rather I came and did it for you?"
"Very impressive," Elric says flatly. "As a mercy, I won't kill any of you." He turns to eye Bjorn specifically. "But don't push what little luck you have," he warns, before turning around, hopping across the pile of his own corpses until he reaches the ground, and then slowly, deliberately, and calmly walking away.
"As a mercy?" Rez says, and snorts, then turns to Bjorn and continues talking with a conversational tone as the man walks away.
"He wasn't wearing any armour, you know, despite what it looked like - my blade didn't even react. I think that he himself was a very nicely done illusion . . ." he trails off, thinking.
"Unlikely," Bjorn says, "given what Master Radagast has said about the nature of illusions."
Still expressionless, he turns to Kevin. "We need to get a small force on the field," he says, quickly but calmly. "If he was telling the truth -- which seems likely -- we will need to get someone behind the Dreadmarch lines to kill the 'general.'" The sarcastic emphasis on that words is no less obvious for its understatement. "The easiest way to do that, I think, is to get a few men chosen for stealth as much as for combat on the field now, before the moon sets. With any luck, they will be able to make their way around to the general.
"Failing that, we need to stick to the plan we've already established. The earthenworks, the blinding attack of Mistress Astryd, the trebuchets -- the more damage we can do before having to engage the forces, the better."
Dracos, during all of this, is watching carefully, cooly, analyzing the 'undying one's' motions and trying to 'see' what he was able to see before, grabbing for the capability of viewing unseen 'mystical' traits.
Dracos
Phil leans out over the rampart, staring intensely at the departing figure. To his eyes, the man has an aura a dozen times his own size, black, but laced with threads of every color. Whatever powers he's got, they're pretty hefty.
"No," Lord Kevin says to Bjorn, frowning, and dropping his voice. "And this may be important to remember ... a General can only be made a General on the field. Even then, if he leaves the field without winning, he dies."
Dracos shivers slightly, letting go of the sight. Turning to Lord Kevin, he nodded slowly. "Then we best prepare something that someone so arrogant as that would not expect. Surely, someone with such a heritage has more powers than just being unable to die. Anyhow...do I mistake...or did they just give us...as much time as we could want to recover ourselves?"
Dracos
"Right," Lord Kevin announces. "Eske, if you would be so kind -- the library." Eske nods, and opens up a portal in the air off the edge of the ramparts (towards the keep). There's a gap of about ten centimetrs between the rampart and the library floor, now.
Bjorn steps through the gate, into the library.
"Wardmaster," Rez queries Mattias as they step through, "Did you get the chance to examine that axe?"
Dracos steps through, joining them in the library.
Dracos
Everyone else files through the portal, which Eske closes behind you. From the ramparts, the library is filled with a sensation of calm, like order has been restored. "Right," Kevin says again, taking his seat at the map with the table. "If anyone has something else they'd like to take care of, now would be the time." Rubbing at his temples, he adds, "We need all the time we can gain to plan, now."
Bjorn remains silent for the moment, thinking, and watching the others.
"The power in that axe can only be used one time," Mattias says. "It's fine quality, but other than that, only an axe."
Mind still occupied on finding Ashton, Ginrai heads off in search of Serril so they can finish what he was hoping to do last night.
Parthipan leaves this thread, and goes to In the Night (http://pishoque.net/phpBB2/viewtopic.php?p=36637#36637).
"Hmm... So, we're down to 11 generals and Elric, who has told us a good deal more about himself then he really ever should have and in fact, more than I think he realizes. We also have time to heal and recover our strength, though I suspect that this is also a manuver on their end. There remains that other army we saw that was marching to meet up with them. They will meet up with them before the next real fight. That will include stronger generals than even that monster we saw last night. So we need a plan to deal with the future generals, and a further plan to get the other general, Elric the undying, off the field. For the latter... We know he expects us to be resolute in trying to wear him down. His show of force was clearly to demoralize us. To frighten and drive away. To show us that we are bugs against him. But you know, not paying attention to the bugs will get one killed eventually. We need to build a single method to getting him off the field. Not something he would see or be aware of, because as soon as he's aware of it, he likely will start taking us seriously. We can't trust gates as with the seal and his own cards up his sleeve, it'll likely fail and give away that we are trying to eject him from the field. So we need a device that can be slipped under the earth with enough launching power to get him off the field. One that we can't use before hand. We have someone who can change the earth? Could they slide a device under the battlefield? Perhaps an underground catapault? All it'd have to do is launch one human off the field... and if he is off the field, he dies. Thoughts?" Dracos paused his meandering and rambling diatribe.
Dracos
"And if he flies?" Bjorn says, quietly. "Or catches himself with whatever he was using to throw Sir Shuker and myself around? Or if he slits his own throat before he leaves the battlefield?"
He shakes his head. "With all due respect, Lord Bloom, it is too early to start developing traps for that... spawn. We know little, and hopefully can learn more -- and, more importantly, we must first survive to reach the last night of siege." He frowns. "The fact that he has chosen not to command the next night's siege is telling. Either he truly wishes for us to submit, or he has a weakness that he fears may come about."
He sighs. "His mockery aside, my Lords, we have done quite well so far. Our injuries are comparatively few. If we continue in this vein, I think, we will do well. Especially if we can continue to develop effective strategies. Master Radagast, what is the status on the trebuchets?"
"They're ready -- one of my lorekeepers yesterday developed jars of brittle clay, to be filled with flaming pitch. That should be a great help," Radagast replies.
Eske and Mattias look a bit downcast. "Unfortunately, the seal hinders our own contributions directly in the war ... but if we should need something -- or someone -- from outside of the Great Seal, then I can retrieve them," Eske says.
"And Lorekeeper Devin of the Path of Earth helped me reinforce the wall's ancient wards," Mattias adds.
Bjorn contemplates for a second. "Gatemaster," he says, "could you open gates that lay flat along the ground?"
"It's ... it would be hard to explain but space, as you imagine it, is more complicated...." Eske trails off with a sigh. "Yes, I could."
Bjorn raises an eyebrow. "I'd be interested in discussing the subject with you more, Gatemaster. But for the time being -- it would be possible, then, to open gates below the feet of charging orcs and, say, gate them to a location directly above their heads, perhaps at the height of the Keep walls?"
"Normally, yes," he says. "Except that the Great Seal lies across the battlefield, and I can't make a gate in it, or that crosses it. Otherwise I wouldn't have had any trouble bringing the Storm-riders through."
"Also unfortunately," Mattias adds, "I believe that the ward is anchored on Elric. We'd need to destroy him to unmake the ward ... it's too powerful for me to destroy without him just as easily creating it anew, or repairing it before I finished."
Bjorn raises both eyebrows. "You can't access any part of the battlefield at all?"
"It's difficult to make even the small gate from the ramparts to here," Eske says apologetically.
Mattias drums his fingers on the table-top. "There were ... threads ... leading from Elric. Many of them went behind him, towards the Dreadmarch ... but at least one of them came towards the keep. Some of his power comes from something here, in the keep," he adds.
Radagast raises an eyebrow at this.
Bjorn makes a thoughtful noise. "Can you trace these... threads without the presence of Elric?"
"Not right now," he says apologetically. "But I've already got plans to set up a ward that will reveal all to me. It will take at least a day ... though we may have that much time."
A guard rushes into the room, and salutes smartly. "Lord Kevin! An update from the battlefield."
"They've nailed an orc to a rock and left the field?" Lord Kevin asks dryly.
The guard nods. "It's in the center of the field, outside of bowshot," he adds. "It's got no nearby allies, and no way to escape. We're to leave it alone?"
"Yes." Lord Kevin frowns. The guard salutes again, and runs off.
Kevin steeples his fingers together. "Well, we've got a limited amount of time to work with; that orc only has so long to live, and I don't think we could heal it or otherwise extend its life without it being noticed," he grumbles.
"Does it matter if we notice? They can't exactly send many people to march on the field if we're nearby the orc as they'd be instantly sacrificed if we accepted the 'times up' and killed the orc there."
Dracos
"Well, you never know. They probably couldn't -get- to anyone we sent out there without us noticing. It might be worth trying if we end up thinking it's close to dying, in any case . . . but then, Drac, fifty thousand orcs isn't that many to them, either."
"I doubt they'd need to go up to it to kill it," Mattias opines. "There are no rocks in the center of the battlefield, so they must have carried in their own. Most likely, they CAN kill the general at a moment's notice, but won't, unless we interfere."
"Valid point. Well, scratch that plan."
Rez ponders.
"I wonder how long it'll last for . . ."
"Generals have immense stamina," Kevin notes. "Historically, at any rate. Likely it'll last for hours. Or maybe a full day, and then they'll kill it."
A guard rushes in, and says, "Loremaster Radagast, Lorekeeper Devin says he needs to speak with you about some family business." Radagast frowns, but rises.
"Carry on," he urges. "I will return." With that, he follows the guard out of the library.
"If it's all the same to you all, I may take my leave for a time," Nathan ventures, "I'm hungry - as I suspect my men are, I feel I have little to add to this planning session, and I need," his glance flicks to Alec for a second, "to drop past Master Ekim's forge. Lord Kevin, My Lord Bloom, gentlemen, if you no longer need me . . ." he bows to the assembled and prepares to retreat.
Nathan excuses himself, and leaves.
Rez now moves to Nothing out of the Ordinary (http://pishoque.net/phpBB2/viewtopic.php?p=36708#36708).
Bjorn waits until the door has closed behind Nathan, scrubbing at his face tiredly, before starting to speak again. "In all honesty, my Lords, Elric told us very little we did not know before -- and all the new was about him. We knew about the Dwarf, and the Archon, the Jotun and the size of their armies. Since there is little planning we can do about Elric until Wardmaster Mattias finishes his work, then the planning left is the planning we have been doing."
He straightens his back. "What we need, and what we have been given, is a chance to rest. Time to sleep, to mend, to heal, to implement our strategies and develop new ones. If I might be so bold, Lord Kevin, I would suggest that we adjourn, and reconvene when the moon rises again. In the mean-time, we can deal with the problems we already have, and think about how to solve our new ones."
Kevin nods. "Very well," he says. "Eske, if you'd be willing to help, I'd see to it that guards watched over the decoy sword."
Eske nods back, and Kevin arranges for some guards to prepare. "Find what rest you can," Kevin says earnestly. "We need to take it while it's still there to be taken."
Bjorn bows. "As you say, my Lord." With that, unless someone tries to stop him, he leaves the room and heads back to his quarters, bent on finding Mirallia.
Phil now moves to A Walk in the Neighborhood (http://pishoque.net/phpBB2/viewtopic.php?p=36739#36739).
When you get back to your quarters, Mirallia is already there, speaking with three other vassals dressed identically to yourself.
Tired as he is, Bjorn almost stumbles in surprise before quickly collecting himself again. Shit. I knew Nathan and Phil were collecting people from the temples. I should have bloody guessed.
Still in the doorway, Bjorn pauses for a second, listening to whatever it is that they are discussing, as he tries to decide whether to stay or to leave.
Mirallia breaks off from her story, which appeared to be an explanation of what happened to the other vassals with you on your way to Stormwall. "Ah, you've returned," she says neutrally. "You should probably rest while you can, Bjorn."
The other three vassals all turn to eye you speculatively, but say nothing.
"Thank you, Mistress," Bjorn says, neutrally, "but I'm afraid there are still more things that I must take care of. Since Lord Kevin had me on detail all of last night, I took this chance to make sure you were all right."
She smiles at you. "Thank you, Bjorn. I'll be looked after, so you shouldn't worry; you should continue as Lord Kevin commanded you."
The other vassals raise eyebrows, but say nothing.
"As you say, Mistress." He hesitates slightly. "If you do require me, please ask the servants to direct you to the acting Warder." He bows. "If you'll pardon me."
With that, he exits the apartments, and begins walking down the halls. At first, he's simply putting distance between himself and the other vassals, but then a thought strikes him, and he starts to head towards the corridor described as the drop-off point in Durant's notes.
It's a dark corridor, somewhat out of the way. There are few torches lit, as light is seldom needed here. Or at least, that's the idea. The actual spot is an alcove with a statue in it. Presumably of one of the earlier lords of Stormwall keep, it's unlabeled and unmarked. But the shadows around it are fairly deep.
Bjorn goes up to the alcove and studies it carefully, though carefully not touching anything. If the shadows prove too dark to see into, he takes one of the torches out of its scone and brings it closer to the alcove.
You can't see much of anything in the alcove, but when you bring a torch over, it proves ... to be empty. There is a hollow in the back of the statue, however. It's got a piece of folded paper in it.
Bjorn reaches in, carefully picking up the paper in gauntlet'd hands, and reads the note.
It reads: Hunter,
Leave a copper in the hollow the day before you wish to meet.
-Fletcher
Bjorn carefully refolds the note, putting it back exactly where he found it (or at least, as best as he can manage). Standing, he returns the torch to its proper place, and then scratches his beard in thought for a second.
Then, with a nod to himself, he heads off to find a servant who can direct him to Durant.
The first servant you find directs you to his quarters, where he is not. Though he's apparently now warranted a door guard, who says that he left for a walk, and didn't say where he was going.
Bjorn sighs, quietly to himself, and then instead directs himself to the quarters of Lindsay.
These you find in short enough order, though there's a lot more vassals standing guard out front than you remembered. Three of them turn to eye you as you approach.
Bjorn bows to them. "Good evening. Would you please let Mistress Lindsay know that I would like to speak with her?"
The vassals exchange glances, and one says, "Wait," vanishing inside the room.
About a minute later, he emerges again, and says, "Enter."
Bjorn steps into the room, with a nod in passing for the door-guards.
The room is the same way it was the last time you were here ... except that you don't see any other vassals inside. Lindsey sits at a table, flipping through a book slowly.
"Mistress Lindsay," Bjorn says, bowing slightly, as he waits for the door to close behind him. "Did you have a good visit with your friend?"
The door closes behind you, as expected. Lindsey looks up, and frowns. "It went as well as we could hope, in these dire times," she says.
Bjorn nods. "And did he tell you anything you're prepared to share with me?" he asks, in all seriousness.
She eyes you in a calculating manner. "Well, unfortunately, I wasn't able to come up with anything to help the war effort spectacularly," she says slowly, her eyes flickering to one empty corner of the room meaningfully.
"I see," Bjorn says, evenly. "Your efforts are greatly appreciated, nonetheless. We understand that as a priestess of Aestock, this is outside your normal duties."
As he speaks, he concentrates on the empty corner. His eyes don't leave Lindsey, nor does he tense up -- but with periphial vision, his other senses, and all the awarness that Breke tried to beat into him, he does his best to see if he can figure out what is special about that location.
<Faceless> roll 3d6
<Chibi-Suu> them bones was tossed for Faceless ... : 3d6 --> {11}
Your senses tell you that someone is there. You can't see them, and you're trying not to look, since it would be obvious ... but you sense that someone is there nontheless.
"If I do find anything new out, though," Lindsey adds after a moment, "I'll find you in the courtyard by the forge again. Probably that wouldn't be for an hour or so at the soonest."
Bjorn nods. "My duties will keep me rather busy," he says gravely, "but I should be passing through that area regularly. Thank you, Mistress, for your time."
She smiles at you brightly. "I hope I can bring you good news," she declares.
Bjorn smiles slightly in return. "As do I, Mistress," he says politely, and makes his excuses.
Once outside the room, he makes his way to the nearest alcove, four rooms down, and sits down. He closes his eyes, as if catching a brief nap, and then debates wordlessly with himself for a few seconds. Still... nothing ventured, nothing gained.
With that conclusion reached, he wipes his mind clear of the other-self memories, and wills his mindboard into existence. With that in front of him, he reaches out through the Lindsey-smudge, keeping a light touch and writing nothing, but watching through her eyes.
The Lindsey smudge is slippery ... almost like it's just moving out of the way. Either something's in the way, or she won't let you see through her eyes.
Bjorn opens his eyes, his face not giving any hint of the frustration he's feeling. Damn. Odds are she knows now, and nothing gained for it. Yet another goddamn secret in their fucking hands.
Rising, he heads off to the library, with the intentions of finding Loremaster Mattias.
When you return to the library, both Mattias and Eske are there, though Lord Kevin has gone elsewhere.
"Gatemaster, Wardmaster," Bjorn says, with a nod. "I was wondering if you might be able to help me?"
"What can we do for you?" Mattias asks, looking up from a sheet of paper he's busily inscribing runes on.
"To begin with," Bjorn says, without a hint of embarassment, "I was wondering if either of you had a copper I could borrow."
They both blink at this. "Just a copper?" Mattias asks, as Eske mutters to himself and fumbles through his belt pouches.
After a moment, the Gatemaster produces a small disc of copper -- it's got words scratched into it; 'Glory to Soth.' "What do you need it for?" Eske asks. "You shouldn't need to buy anything at the keep."
Bjorn takes it between two fingers and holds it up in front of his face, to study it carefully. "I need to catch a spy," he says, somewhat abstractly. He snaps his hand closed around the coin, and looks at the lorekeepers.
"I think I've found a lead on at least one of the traitors in the Keep," he explains, briskly. "A copper coin," he hefts his hand, "is a recognition symbol. There are two other requests I have to make. Wardmaster, could you put the same sort of trap on this coin as you did on the cloth?" He frowns. "Ideally, if possible, I would like the spy's identity to be made directly known to me."
"I can ... make it so that I immediately know who is touching the coin at any given time," Mattias says slowly. "While I could share that information with you as soon as I know it, I couldn't do so in a way that ... no one else might overhear."
Bjorn grunts, eyeing Mattias thoughtfully for a second. He heard me, I remember Nathan saying. How much does he know? And... what could he teach me? Thoughts for later.
"So be it," he says out loud. "That will do just as well. The last question I have presumes that, for whatever reason, your initial ward doesn't work -- if the coin doesn't get picked up. Is is possible by any means to render me invisible?" He frowns. "From speaking with Master Radagast, an illusion might be able to disguise me as something else... but to be unseen entirely would be preferable."
"That I can do," he answers. "My hands are tied right now, trying to find the thread that leads from Elric into the keep ... but tomorrow, I'd be able to make you a charm to hide you from sight, if only for a while."
"Thank you, Wardmaster," Bjorn says, gravely, holding out the coin to be prepared. "And thank you, Gatemaster. I will pay you back as soon as I am able."
Mattias adds a few scratches to the face of the coin you're holding; once he's done it just looks like any other slightly scratched piece of copper. "Do be careful," he says, turning back to his runes and papers. Eske has wandered to the other side of the library, and is paging through a hefty tome.
"I always am," Bjorn replies seriously, taking the coin. "Unless there's something I can provide for you, Masters...." He bows, and makes his way back to the hidden alcove.
The lorekeepers have nothing else for you, other than Eske calling out that he wished you luck. The alcove is the same way when you get there; abandoned, and without any visible observers.
Bjorn removes the note, replacing it with the coin, and then stands, crumpling the paper in his fist. Studying the hallway one last time, he makes his way out of the keep proper, heading in the general direction of the forge. Along the way, he keeps an eye out for Durant and Liandral -- but at this point, his mind is primarily on the upcoming (he hopes) meeting with Lindsey.
No sign of Durant; he's probably back in the main hall. You only see a pair of servants and some guards the entire time, until you exit through the kitchens and come into the courtyard where you see Nathan and Phil speaking with Ekim.
Bjorn now joins Nothing Out of the Ordinary (http://pishoque.net/phpBB2/viewtopic.php?p=36832#36832).
The two vassals lead you around the corner of the keep, and then relax a bit. "Good job," one of them (a skinny looking man with short, dark hair) says.
The other, a slightly taller, and more filled-out man with curly brown hair, nods. "Ill tidings from the south; they said you betrayed us all. But we don't believe that."
Bjorn looks at them, raising an eyebrow, as if to say, You need to explain more than that.
"Most of us don't believe that," the second man corrects himself. "Head-warden Donovan wants to speak with you ... mostly about...." He hesitates, and sighs. "About those who didn't make it."
"For what it's worth, you've given us a lot to work with here, too," the other man adds. "If anyone's going to be in trouble, it'll be Mirallia, not you."
Bjorn grunts. "This is about the Archonae lies, then?"
Both of them miss a step, and wince. "Ah, bold as they said," the skinny one says. "Well, that may be the case ... we fight who we fight, and as long as it's not Hammar, then all is well."
"Didn't really expect them to betray us, though," the taller one muses, as you round another corner of the keep, now approaching the great door that leads to the branching corridors before the great hall.
"Sir Shuker has seen it with his own eyes," Bjorn says grimly, "even if you choose to ignore that little performance at the start of the siege. They've done enough damage already. I won't see anyone suffer more by cause of them."
He eyes them again, consideringly. "But I doubt you came looking for me to hear my thoughts on that," he says. "So where are we headed? Is the Head-warden here?"
"He is," the taller affirms. "And that's where we're going. He has some questions for you."
Bjorn nods. "When did you get to the Keep?" he asks, casually.
"Night before last," the skinny one says. "Or something like that, anyway. We came through with the Storm-riders, using Gatemaster Eske's door."
"Ah," Bjorn says, "right. Didn't put two and two together there."
He falls silent as he keeps pace with the vassals, fighting back exhaustion and hunger as he tries to plan for the meeting ahead.
The vassals lead you through the door of the keep, up to the second floor, and to a room relatively near Breke's room. Which is, coincidentally, a floor below where you left the copper coin for 'Fletcher'.
"Here ya go," the tall vassal says, rapping at the door.
Two more vassals of hammar stand on either side of the door, eyeing you with unreadable gazes, but saying nothing.
Bjorn stares back at them impassively.
"Come in," a gruff voice says from within.
The vassals wordlessly open the door, revealing a room where another eight vassals are poring over a map at the table, under the apparent leadership of a very wiry, white-haired man dressed in casual clothing. There's still a short-sword at his side, and he wears a symbol of Hammar on a necklace.
He looks up when he sees you through the doorway, and grins. "Ah, Bjorn," he says, nodding. "I'm glad to see you've kept this place from being swept under. Come in, come in!"
Bjorn bows respectfully, and steps into the room, murmuring a polite return greeting.
"So," he says, looking at the map. "Go ahead and tell us what happened since you got here, Bjorn. We need to find out what we've got to work with."
He looks up at one of the vassals, and says, "Stephano, if you can arrange an appointment with the Warden of the keep, I'd be appreciative."
The vassal nods, and moves to leave the room in search of the Warden.
Bjorn coughs. "I am the Warden," he says, almost apologetically. "Or at least, the acting Warden, while Sir Lammermore recovers from his injuries."
"Well, that simplifies things a bit," he says. "What's the status of our defenders? Ah, first things first. You haven't given me an update on what happened since you've gotten here yet."
Bjorn nods, and pauses, trying to collect his thought. Automatically, he falls into a lecturing pose, legs slightly parted, back straight, hands behind back.
"The Dreadmarch force-marched in their arrival at the keep," he says crisply. "This, combined with a traitor in the ranks of the storm-riders, allowed them to cut the storm-riders off from the keep. Luckily, Lord Bloom and Sir Shuker had already left the confines of the Keep, and were able to retake control of the storm-riders. They led them off north, where they destroyed the trailing supply trains, and rescued both Gatemaster Eske and those trapped in the northern temples. You would likely know more of this than me, of course.
"You have also apparently already heard about the arrival of the Archon. He accused Mirallia of the Great Sin, and fled the scene, abandoning the defenders. Luckily, we had recovered the crystal of Aestock on our journey to the keep, and so the Archon's betrayal had no immediate consequences.
"On the first night of the siege, we attempted a ruse based on illusion. We made Sir Lammermore appear to be an Archon, in the hopes of delivering a challenge to bring the General forward. The ruse did not work. We suspect that this is because a traitor within the keep provided our plans to the Dreadmarch. Of course, if the Archonae have truly switched allegiance, then they would simply have known that the Archon had to be false.
"Luckily, between traps set by Loremaster Radagast, and a powerful spell by Windkeeper Parthipan, the general was immediately exposed. He was dispatched immediately by Sir Lammermore and Sir Breke, without casualty on our side. It is worth noting, however, that the general had access to some powerful missile, that he used to attack the tower where the Lorekeepers were stationed. This implies both that they have access to a powerful Loremaster, and, again, that they had inside intelligence.
He pauses for a second, to recollect his thoughts and make sure he has not lost his audience, and then continues. "We immediately took precautions to minimize the chance of spies learning of our new plans. As such, you must understand that without the explicit permission of Lord Kevin, there is some information I cannot share.
"In the second night of the siege, through the offices of Loremaster Radagast and Wardmaster Mattias, we were able to coordinate a two-pronged assault with the storm-riders. Casualties were higher, primarily confined to the storm-riders -- a thousand lost, plus civilians. The pincer attack, plus the earthenworks devised by Earthmaster Devin, were sufficient to isolate the general, who was dispatched through the combined efforts of Sir Breke, Sir Lammermore, Lord Bloom, and myself. Unfortunately, Sir Breke was killed in the battle, and Sir Lammermore was put of comission for the time being."
His face, which to date has been disturbingly placid given the relatively gruesome details he's imparting, hardens slightly. "And on the third night, the commander-in-chief of the Dreadmarch revealed himself, as you may know. He calls himself Elric the Undying, and claims to be spawn of the Elder Gods. He provided us with the night as a time to surrender unconditionally."
He falls silent.
The white-haired man hums thoughtfully, and rubs his chin. "Wheels within wheels, Bjorn. Wheels within wheels. If you have no complaints, I'm going to assign Seth, Adam, and myself to complete the advisory panel for the next strategy meeting," he says. "Until such time as you relinquish your Wardenship, of course." The other vassals all nod.
"At any rate," the man continues, glancing to the map, "you've given us a good deal to work with. You do us all proud. Now rest; we'll do what we can. Seth, Adam, attend Bjorn and see that he's not disturbed unduly -- Jeff, Carl, I want you to keep an eye on Mirallia from this point on; Bjorn's going to be too busy to guard her on top of everything else, and unless I miss my guess, she could probably use being guarded." He raises his eyes from the map, and locks eyes with Bjorn. There's not much gentleness in his gaze, and he actually seems to be grimly satisfied with this situation. "We'll make it through this yet."
Bjorn nods. "Did you want the report on the status of the defenders, or will you get that from someone else?" he inquires.
"You need your rest," the old man says, shaking his head. "We'll get that information when there's a meeting."
"As you say," Bjorn says. Making his farewells, he steps out of the door, pausing for a second.
Two vassals -- presumably Jeff and Carl -- dash out around you, probably in search of Mirallia. No one moves to stop you, either.
Bjorn closes his eyes for a second, as if to collect his thoughts -- but instead, he's slipping behind Lindsey's eyes, checking the status on her mission.
She's currently standing on the ramparts between Phil and Liandral, who look like they're about to have a discussion. Mirallia is there as well, with Nathan and Alec standing nearby.
Opening his eyes, Bjorn heads in the direction of the dining hall.
No one stops you, or runs you down, so you find yourself before the great hall relatively shortly.
Durant is inside, playing his lute while someone else -- a reasonably attractive looking serving girl -- sings about a farmer who lost his cow and pressed on anyway. Durant's expression looks a little strained, but he shortly thereafter bows his head over his lute in concentration.
Bjorn eyes Durant thoughtfully for a second or two, but then decided to go with the immediate priority -- grabbing some food.
As he sits and eats, he watches the crowd -- not looking for anything in particular, at the moment (other than somebody glaring daggers at Durant, perhaps), but just now-habitual watchfulness.
Mmm. Stew.
After getting a bowl of warm food into you, you feel a bit better. The bread's actually not bad, either.
Most of the people around you keep a respectful distance away. The only person nearby that you recognize is Dorian, who is watching Durant's performance. At least, he does for a while. Not long after, while you're still eating, he notices you, and rises from his table, wandering to sit next to you.
"Ho, hero," he says, nodding at you. "How fare you today?"
Bjorn raises an eyebrow at Dorian's form of address, but says nothing. "Tired," he says quietly, "as I imagine we all are. How fares it with you, Sir Shivershaft?"
"Weary in my own way," he says with a shrug. "But we press on, as we always do."
Bjorn nods at that, and then frowns slight. "You would have been on the ramparts during the last night of siege, Sir Shivershaft? I wonder if you noticed where the arrows that pierced the general's shield may have come from."
He blinks at that, and frowns. "Arrows?" he asks. "I fired a great many at the barrier, and none of my arrows would pierce it. I did not see anything pierce it, truly."
Bjorn nods slowly. "Of course. Thank you, though." He sighs, and changes the topic. "Have you spoken with Sir Liandral since he returned to the Keep?"
Dorian grimaces. "I don't trust him," Dorian says very quietly, as though to avoid being over-heard. "His behavior has changed, and he forgets himself -- and his roots. I do not know what he found in the wastes, but is has marked him."
"How so?" Bjorn asks, quietly in return.
"It's hard to say," Dorian grumbles, rubbing his chin, and staring at the table intently. "He seems less given to his old ways ... he doesn't even speak of his fallen companion anymore. The one that ... ah. But you lost enough of your own, there. I should not have brought that up." He looks apologetic.
"Most of us have suffered losses," Bjorn says, softly, "and we will likely suffer more before the end. But I've done my grieving, Sir Shivershaft. I thank you for your concern, but you do not need to watch your words on my behalf."
"Ah," Dorian says quietly. "Fair enough. But keep your eye on him ... mark my words, he's not to be trusted." He shakes his head. "It's difficult to explain ... but I've known him for years. Centuries. And I know something has changed."
Bjorn nods at that, consideringly. "Thank you, Sir Shivershaft. I will keep my eyes out." He ponders for a second. "Have you shared your concerns with Lord Kevin?"
Dorian shakes his head. "No ... I would have spoken with Sir Lammermore, but now it is too late." He grimaces. "I don't know what to do."
Bjorn hums. "You don't wish to approach Lord Kevin? If it's simply a matter of gaining an audience, I could provide that for you."
"Lord Kevin is a busy man," Dorian says, shaking his head. "He has his hands full as it is ... I wouldn't want to burden him further. Especially as this is ... I suspect ... my own burden to bear. And yet, I am reluctant to accept it alone."
Bjorn shakes his head. "I'm afraid it cannot be your own burder, Sir Shivershaft," he says, regretfully. "If you think there might be any grounds to your concerns, then it is a concern for all of us."
He pauses for a second, thinking. "If you do not wish to speak to Lord Kevin directly, might I suggest speaking with Master Radagast? He is a trusted counsellor of Lord Kevin's. I can share your concerns myself, of course, but there may well be questions that arise that only you can answer."
Dorian nods thoughtfully. "There is truth in that," he agrees. "I will watch Liandral, then. And perhaps ... I will mention it to Radagast. Thank you, hero. You have been most kind." He offers you a friendly smile, then.
"And thank you, Sir Shivershaft," he replies gravely. Glancing down at his empty bowl, he says, "Is there anything else I might do for you?"
He shakes his head. "That was my only concern," he says, glancing at the stage as the song ends, and Durant begins telling the story of the faithful servant, and his cruel master.
Bjorn pauses to listen to the story for a second.
The story goes on about a servant who works hard, but gets treated poorly by his master. As it progresses, the servant gets worse and worse treatment, until the master is one day striken by a strange illness, and bedridden.
And then the servant is offered a chance to take his revenge upon the helpless cruel master.
But he doesn't, because he's a good servant.
And the master recognizes this, and they become the best of friends, the master eventually leaving his entire fortune to his servant, as he has no heirs of his own.
Bjorn tunes out the story after a little bit, pushing back his bowl. "If you'll pardon me, Sir Shivershaft," he says courteously, "I'm afraid I'm going to go get some rest while I can. Fare you well."
He inclines his head towards you. "Rest well," he says, turning to watch Durant tell his story.
Bjorn gets to his feet and leaves the dining hall. Once he's out, he leans against the wall for a second, closing his eyes, and checking to see where Lindsey is.
Lindsey is currently stalking along the edge of the battlefield, sticking towards the shadows as she creeps closer to the Dreadmarch. She's moving pretty slowly ... but you'd guess she knows what she's doing.
Once again letting his own senses return, Bjorn opens his eyes. Dangerous to be doing this here, he chides himself. With that thought uppermost in his mind, he makes his way to his own quarters.
Your quarters are deserted when you get there. The fire has burnt to a few brightly glowing embers, but it's still pleasantly warm.
Bjorn makes his way to the antechamber, and hesitates as he reaches the threshold.
Can I keep the mindboard active while I'm asleep? Guh. Can't risk it. With that moderately unpleasant thought, he sits himself down on a divan. After a hesitant pause, he doesn't open his senses to Lindsey's, for fear of revealing her, but simply keeps himself ready, waiting for her to report.
Keeping yourself awake is a bit of a challenge; it's been more than a day, and you hadn't gotten much sleep before then anyway. You do manage, however, though Lindsey has yet to contact you.
Having conquered sleep, Bjorn continues to wait for Lindsey's communication, barring interruptions.
"Either I am less observant than I should be, or he did not change until after we returned to the keep," Mirallia says, opening the door to the room. She pauses, and smiles slightly. "Hello, Bjorn. Did we wake you?"
Bjorn opens his eyes. "No," he says. "Did you have a... good meeting with Lindsey?"
"I found it informative," Mirallia says. "Confusing, but informative none-the-less."
Bjorn snorts slightly. "Be careful of her," he says, without any note of rancour in his voice.
"No kidding," puts in Rez, sticking his head through the door, "getting enough sleep lately?"
Bjorn ponders that. "Probably not," he says finally. "But there isn't much choice."
"Mm. I'm going to go and get some myself very soon. We do need to catch up and compare notes on a few things, though."
Bjorn nods. "I likely won't be hard to find," he says with a touch of dark humour.
"Ha," Rez pauses, "you're mostly aware of what the stormriders have been up to?"
Bjorn frowns. "You were destroying supply trains, right? And then recovering the refugees at various temples, and Gatemaster Eske."
"Mostly, yes. A couple of quick things you probably should be aware of, since you're on the tactical staff or whatnot . . . firstly, we suspect the dreadmarch has someone or something similar to gatemaster Eske, although we haven't seen it used - we suspect this because they managed to get a force from their citadel to the temple of Hamar in extremely short order . . . either that or they just happened to have more than one million strong support groups lying around. The second is that my sword is capable of shattering weapons or armor that it makes contact with - I'm not sure how it reacts with magical weapons, but I suspect that unless they can counter archonae craft they'd have trouble with it."
Rez pauses.
"They seemed fairly relevant, really. On a more prosaic note, we think we killed about 80,000 of the dreadmarch while we were out there. Quite a bloody mess. And . . . do you know anything about the other Pax Arcana, apart from Lindsey and Liandral?"
"One is a Lorekeeper by the name of Serril Dewer," Bjorn replies. "Apparently, the other two are south with the Archonae." He frowns. "You should know that -- Lindsey told us. I don't know how she knew."
He shakes himself, and then eyes Nathan. "Either come in and shut the door, or let's save this for another time. No need to advertise."
Mirallia shakes her head and opens the inner door, lighting some candles in the main room, and stoking the fire (which is now quite low). "There's room for you to sit," she calls, before moving to the writing desk.
Alec frowns, and calls from his spot a bit down the hall, "I'll watch your door for you."
"Actually, Alec, one second."
Rez steps in and says quietly to Bjorn, "Mirallia said something that confused Alec, and, well, Drac compounded it and it went from there. So I think, in this case, I'd better spill."
Bjorn looks inquisitively (and a tad unhappily) at Mirallia, and then back at Nathan, before sighing. "All right," he says grimly. "I'm starting to get very tired of giving this speech, though."
Alec frowns, but shrugs. "It's only going to make me dizzier," he opines, "but go ahead."
"Well."
Rez closes the door and moves away from it to lean against the wall.
"I'm going to request that this doesn't leave the room, Alec, if I may. I ask because this is going to sound truly bizarre," Rez looks seriously at Alec, "But you know what side of this fight I'm on by now, just as I know what side you're on."
"Okay," Alec says, frowning. "I'm ready for it," he says, glancing at Mirallia and Bjorn briefly before turning his attention back to Nathan.
"Well."
Rez tales a moment to organize his thoughts.
"There are other world out there, Alec, worlds apart from this one. I, Lord Bloom, Bjorn, and some few others come from another of these worlds. Our world is threatened by a being we know only as the enemy, as it has been in the past, and as every time before there is a contest - where groups with their own visions of how to safeguard our people compete for the power to make that vision reality. We ourselves were used by one of these groups to attack the other group . . . but in turn we became aware of what was happening, and joined the contest ourselves - because we all agree that their methods and visions for what to do are wrong."
Rez takes a breath.
"As part of this contest, we have to find three guardian spirits and be marked by them, by entering their dreams. This world, as linked to our world, is the dream of one of these spirits. When we arrived here, we only knew a few things . . . that there were reflections of our selves, us but not, in this dream - and we would have to take their roles, and learn what they could teach us."
"After the group escorting Madame Mirallia," he nods toward the aforementioned, "left the temple of Hamar and moved south, they were ambushed. The orcs slew almost everyone, or so it seemed - Mirallia, Liandral, and I think the bard Durant were the only people to survive. Then . . . they all woke up, unharmed, and that is where we - myself, Bjorn, Lord Bloom, the Windkeeper Parthipan and the bard Durant - woke and entered this world. Ever since then, we have been us, not the people we were before . . . we remember pieces of them, we remember their skills, but we both are them, and we aren't them. "
"As to why we're here, well . . . we were told only that we would see what needed to be done, " Rez opens his eyes again, "and what needs to be done is fairly obvious. If we can stop it, none of us could let the dreadmarch walk through . . . so stopping it dead is what we're trying to do."
"Especially since it was one of our opponents who raised it to such power in the first place. That is why we want them beaten. Anyone who would do this sort of thing to further their own aims . . . we won't let them control the destiny of our world, or any other."
Bjorn does not interrupt Nathan's speech, but instead watches the other two, gauging their reactions.
"Wait," Mirallia says, frowning. "It was people from your world who gave the Dreadmarch such power?"
Alec looks a bit pole-axed. "From ... from further away than Kith?" he asks in confusion. "How ... how far away is your ... world?"
"I don't know, Alec. I don't know if you can physically travel from here to there . . . that's more of a question for the loremasters than for me. And yes," he nods to Mirallia, "that's what we're told, and though I'm not certain . . . it does make a certain degree of sense."
"Ugh," Alec says. "I thought fighting the Dreadmarch was bad enough."
"No kidding. I believe they've left - they've been seen in our world since, but . . . well, yeah. The mess they made is still here."
Rez grimaces.
"Liandral and Lindsey, as you saw earlier, those are some of our opponents. For now, they claim to be here to work with us against the dreadmarch . . . and while I don't entirely trust them, I'll take it at face value for now."
"This is confusing," Alec says, shaking his head. "But you're against the Dreadmarch, which is fine by me."
Bjorn, who has been silent up until this point, nods at Alec. "We are," he reassures him. "And if we plan to do anything about it, sleep might not be a horrible idea." He grins crookedly.
Someone begins pounding on the door at this point, and there's what sounds like a scuffle outside.
Alec grabs his axe instinctively, then looks to Nathan for guidance.
Bjorn springs to his feet, putting his hands at his swords, and then nods tersely at Alec as he moves closer to the entrance. "Open the door," he orders. "Mirallia, get back."
Alec moves to the door, Nathan just behind him. Mirallia frowns, but stays in the main room, while you and the others stay in the ante-chamber.
When Alec flings open the door, you see two vassals of Hammar holding a rather peeved looking Lorekeeper. "I need a healer!" he says. "Quickly!"
"You certainly will if you keep fighting," one of the vassals snaps back.
"Thank you, Jeff, Carl," Bjorn says, coming to the door. Looking somewhat coldly at the Lorekeeper, he asks, "Who are you, Master, and what is the emergency?"
Rez shifts uneasily, putting a hand on the hilt of his blade and straightening up from his slouch.
The Lorekeeper straightens up, and the vassals nod at Bjorn. "I am Serril Dewer," he says. "Radagast asked me to find a healer, but Mistress Lindsey is gone -- I don't know where, and her vassals are frantic to find her. There was ... there was a fight in the tower. Gatemaster Eske and Loremaster Radagast were injured."
Carl and Jeff raise eyebrows at this, but don't let go of Serril. "If there are injured, then I can help," Mirallia says.
Bjorn raises an eyebrow at Serril's introduction before he can stop himself. "If there's been a fight," he says coolly, "then we have no time to waste. Madame Mirallia, would you gather what you need? Carl, find Lord Kevin, make sure he knows, then join us at the tower. Jeff, Sir Shuker, Alex -- we will escort Master Serril and Mirallia to the tower."
Rez makes disgusted noise, but nods and stands up, ready to follow Bjorn.
"I'm Alec," the axeman corrects you before unlimbering his axe, and peering around like he expects the entire Dreadmarch to jump out of the next shadow. "Lead the way," he adds.
Mirallia shakes her head, and pulls her pendant (which is still softly glowing) from beneath her robes, letting it add to the illumination of the torches. "Lead us to the tower then, Master Serril."
The Lorekeeper nods, and hurries down the hall, Mirallia only pausing for everyone else to begin moving before following behind.
Bjorn leads the way, letting everyone else fall in line behind him. He doesn't draw his weapons, yet, but watches warily.
When the group of you reach the entrance to the Lorekeepers' quarters, the guards eye you, but don't actually ask you to remove your weapons.
After you step inside, Serril leads you to Radagast's study, which looks much the same as it had before. The differences are that the room smells a little smokey, you see that Radagast has a burnt shoulder, Eske is sitting down with one hand on his stomach, and Devin is tending Astryd, who is lying down and unconscious. Two lorekeepers are leaning up against the wall near one of the other doors in this room, their hands bound behind their backs, and Mattias is lying even closer, his hands bound as well. Parthipan is standing near Devin and looking at Mattias with a frown.
This thread now joins In the Night (http://pishoque.net/phpBB2/viewtopic.php?p=37205#37205).
Kevin leads the entire entourage deep into the bowels of the keep, down stairs you'd never explored before, past wary looking and unfamiliar guards, and through a hallway where you can see men and women dressed in black flit around, seemingly trying to stay out of sight.
Eventually, you come to a large wooden door. It is opened to reveal a huge square room. Doors to small cells line the periphery. There are a number of guards sitting at a table inside, and they climb to their feet when the door opens. In the center of the room is a heavy stone block.
It's dark with old dried blood, and there's a grate set into the floor -- presumably as a drain -- beneath it.
Mirallia shudders at the sigh, but says nothing. Ashton seems calm, and now Neil is the one who looks frightened.
Radagast searches each for a moment, and removes their periapts -- they're necklaces, some kind of bone shaped into a wheel.
Kevin nods. "I've a prisoner, and two traitors to hand over," he says briskly.
One of the men nods, and retrieves a heavy looking axe from one of the walls. "Understood," he says.
"Mirallia," Bjorn says softly, "there's no reason for you to watch this."
"Perhaps last rites are different on your world," she says back just as quietly. "But truly, I do need to see this. At least half of it."
After that, the two traitorous lorekeepers are lined up, asked if they have any words (Ashton has nothing, Neil tries to spit in the executioner's face, but evidently he saw it coming). Ashton is knelt on the floor, his head on the stone block.
The axe goes up ... and comes down, one swift, sure stroke severing his neck. There's surprisingly little blood, considering it was a decaptiation.
Neil struggles a bit, but the end result is the same (though Miralla looks away when he's executed).
Devin heaves a sigh of relief. "That takes care of a fraction of the problem," he says, grimacing.
Kevin eyes him, but turns to Radagast. "Is there anything else I should be aware of?" he asks.
Radagast frowns, looking over the periapts. "I'm not certain," he says. "I hope that this is the end of things, but I expect that we're now at least better prepared to handle the remaining problem."
Radagast then moves on to instruct the guards in the manner of Mattias's imprisonment, and most everyone else disperses, save the guards watching over Kevin.
Bjorn closes his eyes briefly for a second. "My Lord," he says, "unless there is some duty you would like me to take care of, I think perhaps I should rest."
"I believe it would be for the best," Kevin agrees. "Rest well, Bjorn."
Rez, having watched the whole execution without much of a reaction, just looks tired. Turning, he walks past Bjorn and over towards Alec, and the door.
"We should go and get some . . . sleep. Yeah. Sleep."
"The same for you, my Lord. Rest well, Sir Shuker, all." Bjorn nods at the group, and turns to Mirallia. "Shall we?" Waiting only for her acknowledgement, Bjorn starts to walk back to their quarters.
Nathan now returns to Nothing out of the Ordinary (http://pishoque.net/phpBB2/viewtopic.php?p=37312#37312).
It takes you very little time to return to your quarters. Once there, you feel even more tired....
But you recieve a message from Lindsey just as you step through the doorway. Hello?
Bjorn scrawls out a quick reply, Hello, before he can stop himself. He curses his own stupidity.
I'm almost back to the keep; I just wanted to check out the General before I came back in. There's a pause, then. I don't know if I can send this image....
This time, Bjorn manages to restrain himself from replying again. Instead, hoping that it will aid, he shuts down, as much as he can, awareness of his entire body, replacing it with an affinity for Lindsey's perceptions.
You can percieve things as Lindsey does ... which is odd, since her body is built quite a bit differently than yours. But then, your current body isn't your original body, so this is just a passing disorientation.
You feel very cold, your feet hurt, your hands are sore, and it feels like someone threw something moderately heavy at your head.
You hear the sounds of someone groaning in pain, and you can see who the Dreadmarch chose to nail to the boulder. It's a tall, fair-haired and fair-looking man in Storm-rider armor. The nails they used are huge affairs, on the scale of railroad ties, as they didn't crucify him; they pinned his shoulders, wrists, elbows, knees, and ankles to the rocks beneath him.
He looks like he's in a fantastic amount of pain, no matter how you look at it. "I was a king once," he manages between groans. "K...king...."
This will serve us better in the long run, Linsdey sends.
Linsdey's hand reaches out and gently touches the storm-rider's hand. He stills, breathing easier, and while the elements and nails will probably still kill him, from the looks of things, they're going to take a lot longer to do so, now.
I'm coming back.
Bjorn does not end the mindlink, but pulls his sensations back to himself. Looking around, he takes stock of his surroundings, now that he's come back to himself.
You're in your room, lying on the floor. Mirallia is standing over you and looking somewhat concerned. Jeff is also in the room, crouched at your side. "You alright?" he asks. "Been awake too long, I'll wager."
"Yes," Bjorn says, "that's probably it." Getting to his feet again, he nods at Jeff. "Thank you. I'll be fine."
He looks at you dubiously. "I'll be on guard outside the door," he says. "You can rest. Just like when we were on the borders of Soth, remember? We watch each-other's backs." He smiles at that, and nods. "Take it easy." With that, he strides out of the room, closing the door behind him.
"I'm going to get some rest, as well," Mirallia decides. "Before I do, is there anything I can do for you?"
Bjorn holds up a hand. "Please," he says, almost begging, "sit with me for a couple minutes? Lindsey is... almost back at the Keep. I don't want to let the connection break before she is, and I think it will if I fall asleep." He grimaces, and then lowers himself down on the divan.
Mirallia blinks at this, and nods, sitting on the divan just across the ante-chamber. "What ... how do you know?" she asks.
"How do I know which?" Bjorn asks, confusedly. "That Lindsey is coming back? Oh." He frowns. "I'd forgotten. We'd talked about that before you met us in the courtyard."
He hesitates for a second, and then sighs. "I have the ability to... connect mind, so that people can talk to each other through me." He frowns. "It takes a great deal of concentration to do it here, though, and apparently there are those that can hear me when I wri... talk through it. I haven't been using it much."
"Oh," she says quietly. "You're a lorekeeper of your world?"
Bjorn looks down at his hands. "No," he says, quietly. "I was... born with this ability, apparently. I never knew, until one day some people chose to hunt me down for having such powers. Before then, I was..." he bites off his own words. "Well. Beside the point. I did not study for this, and I could not teach it."
"Oh," she says, brightening. "You've a hero of your world."
Bjorn smiles faintly. "No," he says humourously, "not yet. Perhaps one day. I was... ordinary. Just one of very many."
Mirallia doesn't understand, but accepts this answer. I'm back, Lindsey sends. It's cold. I'm going to get some sleep. Let's meet up in the morning and exchange notes.
All right, Bjorn risks sending back, and then, almost with a feeling of relief, lets the mindboard wash away, to be replaced by the now-comforting feeling of his combat senses.
To Mirallia he says, "Lindsey is back. Thank you for your help. You should probably get some sleep now."
Then he frowns, and says, "Actually. If you don't mind my asking... what did you talk about with Lindsey?"
"Very little. She spoke with Lord Bloom and Sir Shuker, mostly. And then, of things concerning your world ... I did not understand much, I'm afraid." She sighs, and shakes her head. "You need to rest. We can speak on this further in the morning."
"Don't trust her," Bjorn says, drowsily, already dropping off into sleep. "Very dangerous."
But whatever he might have said beyond that is lost as he passes out, for real this time.
You wake up fully rested, and feeling much better, though you have no idea how long you've been asleep by now.
Mirallia is apparently asleep, the candles are out, and the fire in the next room is low.
Bjorn wrinkles his nose as he rattles a little, rolling to his feet. Well. There's probably the first priority. Taking the time to stoke up the fire (though not bothering with the candles), he changes into casual clothes, and begins methodically cleaning the armour of its signs of three days of continual wear.
It doesn't take too long to polish it up to as nice as it's been. It's really designed for protection, not appearance, but you get the grime off, make sure the leather is oiled and won't crack, and inspect it for rust.
Just as you're finishing, there's a knock on the door.
Jeff pokes his head in a moment after knocking, and says, "Lorekeeper here to see you, Bjorn."
"Lorekeeper?" Bjorn says, frowning, and then shrugs. "Send him in."
Jeff nods, and Parthipan is ushered into the ante-chamber.
"Ah, it's you," Bjorn nods, and starts to change back into his armour. "Come in. What can I do for you?"
"Hey, Bjorn! Phil and I decided that all of us should meet up in the library to discuss what's been going on."
Bjorn looks at Parthipan for a second, and then shrugs. "All right," he says, "sounds like a plan."
Buckling on his swords, he steps out the door, and turns to Jeff. "I need to go meet with Lord Bloom in the library," he informs him. "Shouldn't be any problems."
"I also need to get Durant for the meeting."
Bjorn nods. "All right, then, I'll meet you there." With a parting nod to Jeff and Carl, he heads to the library.
Bjorn leaves this thread and joins A Walk in the Neighborhood (http://pishoque.net/phpBB2/viewtopic.php?p=37368#37368).
After leaving Bjorn's room, it takes a few minutes to track down Durant, but you do find him in one of his usual hangouts -- the hall. After you explain what the plan is, he follows you to the library.
Parthipan leaves this thread and joins A Walk in the Neighborhood (http://pishoque.net/phpBB2/viewtopic.php?p=37374#37374).