Flight From Ironheart IC

[Inspectre]

Dawn’s Hope - Monastery

Baerdog7/Archpaladin Zousha

Smashing his way through the line of Karth’s guards and leaving them for the other incoming paladins to deal with, Hondshioh rushes out into the courtyard. He arrives just in time to see Vash begin his incantation. As the half-giant rushes towards him, Vash breaks off his chanting with a frown. He waits until Hondshioh is nearly on top of him, and then explodes into action.

Throwing one arm out to point directly at the onrushing paladin, Vash releases a cloud of dust into Hondshioh’s face. The assassin smoothly steps back and to the side, allowing Hondshioh to rush through the cloud and then go stumbling past him. Despite his stony skin, the half-giant’s eyes and mouth were still vulnerable, and he quickly found himself blinded and retching.

“Ah, paladins. Always so quick to throw themselves on the knife.” Vash announces with satisfaction, turning away from the half-giant back to Ander. Just in time to receive the concealed dagger Ander had drawn in the shoulder. The would-be assassin gives a decidedly unmanly shriek as he stumbles back from Ander, badly wounded but not dead.

“I . . . can’t believe . . . you got me . . . with this crap pigsticker!” Vash wheezes, pulling the dagger out and quickly shoving a prepared scrap of cloth into the gaping wound. Judging by the relieved sigh Vash gives a moment later, as well as how his eyes momentarily rolled back into his head, the cloth scrap had been soaked in some sort of drug.

“Ardraket, help me out here!” He grunts, looking over his shoulder at the other cloaked figure dealing with Karth. The other assassin doesn’t even look back as he approaches Karth, passing untouched through a stream of flame the desperate psychopath conjures.

“Busy right now.” The man rasps, stabbing a dagger through Karth’s outstretched hand and then grasping the wrist, wrenching the man around onto his back and dropping a knee onto his chest. Flickers of flame sputter along the length of Karth’s body, but despite his obvious attempts the pyromaniac can no longer create blasts of fire.

Meanwhile, Vash steels himself and saddles up to Ander with an angry grimace.

“Screw this mumbo jumbo crap.” He growls, delivering a rising kick to Ander’s groin. Thanks to the armor the former lord general was wearing, the kick seemed to inflict more damage to Vash than Ander. However, the impact of the blow did threaten to knock Ander off his toes, and he momentarily slipped, the wire noose biting deeply into his neck. Only his divine regeneration kept him alive, his flesh struggling to seal back up around the wire loops now firmly lodged in the middle of his neck.

“I’m just going to kill you, and stick your soul in this.” Vash grunts, pulling out a hand-sized crystal from his belt. “Have fun being someone’s desk knickknack, *******.”

And with that, the assassin wound up, preparing to stab one sharp end of the crystal down into Ander’s right eye.

(As a note, the blinding cloud has worn off enough on Hondshioh at this point that he can act again, through his vision is still rather blurry. Ander’s also free to act of course, though he’s partially decapitated at this point so things aren’t pretty for him no matter what. )

The Island of Dr(?) Sohssal

Iethloc

At your arguments, Xerxes spreads his hands wide.

“It’s true my kind uses deception – but what need do I have for that when the truth is so much more effective? As you just said, you have seen first-hand the power of the Valkyrie’s lackeys. Sooner or later, they will come for you. You’re powerful Sohssal – we wouldn’t be having this conversation if you weren’t – but not even you can stand alone against a goddess!”

Smoothly, Xerxes stands up.

“If you don’t want to make such an important decision now, I understand. But you should decide soon, before your choice is made for you. In any case, if you wish I will give you some time to think it over. When you have made your decision, you can get in contact with us through Lord Nihilus’s contact with the mortal plane. I believe you have already met him once – Baron Demitrius Gast. We can hash out the exact details of your role when and if you decide to join us. Now, unless you have any questions for me, I will leave you to the reclamation of your manor.”

On the Road

The X-Roads Tavern

WhiteKnight777

As you begin to summon your magical steed, you note through a broken slat that sunlight is still pouring into the dingy room. Apparently, the ghosts’ illusionary powers did not extend to causing the sun to rise or set any faster than usual.

“Wait . . .” The ghosts surrounding you hiss.

“Perhaps we could help each other. Few people come this way through the forest anymore, and we cannot leave. If you were to bring some newcomers for us to welcome, we could reward you in turn. Old hauls, buried treasure . . . we have no use for money now.”

The ghosts give a chorus of rasping chuckles that would have been unpleasant if you had been a normal person. But of course, you were far above normal – indeed, this sort of thing was your normalcy.

(In the event he goes looking for her, Umber will find a disappointed/hungry Mellita passed out in a nearby (and fortunately intact interior) room. Daytime = sleepy time for normal vampires. )

The Gastly Truth

Dorizzit/Lonna

Pyrene takes down one – very surprised – guard in a flurry of punches, while Korram slides behind the other, swiftly snapping his neck. Upon seeing that the third guard was in fact her father, Katrina breathes a sigh of relief but is quick to spring into action. Waving Korram off, Katrina tosses her glass shard aside and kneels down beside one of the dead guards, drawing his dirk.

“The situation is that we are all running for our lives.” Katrina replies conversationally as Pyrene takes off down the hallway. A moment later with a howl of blind fury, Cheran appears in the doorway, one hand still clasped over his ruined face. His remaining eye narrows in hate as he sees Korram and Katrina standing together.

“I’ll kill you ALL!” The Baron’s son vows as he staggers out into the hallway.

“Move your ass old man!” Katrina grunts as she breaks into a run, following after Pyrene who has already reached the corner where the hallway meets up with the main concourse running through the airship.

As Pyrene reaches the corner, she nearly collides head-on with another guard carefully sliding into view. Despite her temporary(?) madness, Pyrene does note that the man appears to be, in fact, an elf, and he does not immediately react with hostility. Instead, he looks at Pyrene intently for a moment, and then gives a short bow.

“(OOC: Princess *snigger*)Pyrene? My name is Telest – I am here to rescue you.”

Telest looks down the hallway at the approaching Katrina and Korram, and the pair of dead guards lying in the hallway. He almost seems . . . disappointed.

“It seems, however, that I will not need to kill anyone to take you away.” (total pick-up line! )

Stepping back, Telest gestures down the hallway.

“Quickly, this way! My associate Wulfric is hidden in Cargo Bay 3B, with a griffon.”

The Perist Residence

Kasanip

(I’m not sure we’ll need to PM a conversation about Isera’s disguise unless it is particularly elaborate.)

Jean closes his eyes and sighs – perhaps irritation, perhaps something else.

“You are right. I was simply trying to offer what aid I could in your investigation.”

Jean pauses for several moments, and then sighs again.

“In any event, this is your investigation now. I should leave the details of how you conduct it entirely up to you. If you require anything, you know how to get in contact with a number of Canticle members and allies across the kingdom.”

Jean frowns.

“Still. Warlocks are an opponent you have not faced before. From personal experience, I can tell you that they are exceedingly dangerous. . . . You should be careful, and not hesitate to seek aid if you need it.”

Still frowning, but with a note of another emotion – anger? Regret? in his expression, Jean turns away.

“In any event, Duncan and I will be present in camp for the next hour. After that, we will be departing in separate directions. I wish you luck.”

(I’m going to fast forward ahead to your arrival at the town. You are welcome to decide how Isera and Carlain get there, either by walking, taking Jean’s teleport, or teleporting to a nearby town and then hoofing it.)

It was approaching noon by the time the town of Dark Falls comes within sight through the trees. Or rather, what was left of the town – even from this distance you can tell the place had been razed to the ground. No, not just razed – even from this distance you could feel the hairs on the back of your neck rise. There was something peculiar about the wreckage, something very wrong.

Most of the buildings had been scorched to piles of blackened timbers, but those made of stone were still largely standing – if with gaping holes in the walls. Even the ground surrounding the town had been burned and withered to cracked earth.

Interestingly, you do see a thick plume of smoke rising into the air from near the center of the devastation. Judging by the greasy nature of the smoke, you suspect this is not a smoldering ember from whatever destroyed the town. No, this was more recent, and although you were not experienced enough in such matters to be sure, you suspect the smoke is coming from a massive pyre. Someone, at least, was still in the area and interested in disposing of the bodies.

The Capital

Tackyhillbillu

Adding a little more chaos to the mix in the vain hope it would be enough to save your life, you flee for the corner of the complex you had entered from. As you round the corner of the building, however, you find a trio of cloaked figures bounding over the wall. You launch your pair of daggers at the group, to no real effect but serving to scatter them somewhat and give you time to duck back around the building.

By the light of the flames starting to consume the guard headquarters, you can see more cloaked figures clammering over the wall on the far side of the complex. This was not a mere surgical strike, but a full-blown invasion! Clearly, the Baron had decided to greatly expand the ranks of his Hand.

Feeling increasingly cornered, you were beginning to consider ducking into one of the nearby warehouses, there to make either your final stand or quietly slit your own throat. However, before you could enact such a plan the wooden doors to one of the nearby warehouses are thrown open, and a horse-drawn wagon bursts out into the courtyard.

A single figure is seated in the driver’s chair, urging the horse forward at a rapid trot. Matching the single figure is a single large barrel sitting in the back of the wagon. As the wagon draws closer, you get a better look at the man driving it.

Half of the man’s face is a ruin, a continuous mass of scars running from his temple down to his chin, and across from his mangled ear to his nose. A black eyepatch runs diagonally down across the wrecked flesh, covering the presumably ruined eye. Still, the man’s other green eye is shining and alert, and the intact part of his face is home to a neatly maintained half-moustache.

Wrapped around the man’s one arm is a large wooden shield, which he seems to be using to shield himself from the occasional projectile flying his way out of the darkness. As he approaches, the man slows the wagon to a near stop alongside you. Leaning half out of the wagon, he extends his empty hand down to you.

“Come with me if you want to live!”

A Not-So Ordinary Basement

OverWilliam

“Food won’t be necessary. Well, at least for me.” Melcara chirps, looking quite . . . distracted, perhaps, was the best word.

“Well, well, hello beautiful.” Ulrich mutters with a self-aware smile. Elbowing you gently in the ribs, Ulrich manages another quiet laugh.

“I’ve heard all sorts of stories about what happened to you lad. Including one or two that involved you running off with a very fine lass. She’s not your mistress, is she?” Ulrich adds, leaning in close. His jovial expression fades, however, as he reaches out to grab your right arm, turning it over so your palm was up. The motion revealed the series of numbers burned into your forearm, just forward of the elbow.

“I also heard rumors you got sent to Ironheart.” Ulrich says quietly, staring at the brand. “But that place is a death sentence, so I can only assume you got sent somewhere just as unpleasant. You look more than half-dead, lad.”

Taking you gently by the arm, Ulrich begins to lead you out of the worship area that was now more of a home for the homeless.

“We should discuss this matter further, you and your friends, in my office. There are too many ears out here . . . and things have changed around here during your absence, Tare.”

If his expression had turned serious upon seeing the brand on your arm, Ulrich’s expression was downright grim upon your mention of poison.

“Oh, I remember more than I care to. . . . What exactly have you gotten yourself mixed up in, lad?”

A few moments later, you had reached a door set into the back of the worship area, and Ulrich pulls out a small key, unlocking the door and pushing it open to grant you entry into the back area of the church. From there, Ulrich guided you over to another door, which he likewise unlocked, revealing a small cramped room packed of a bookshelf, an unmade cot bed, and a small rickety desk.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any chairs for you, but things will be cramped enough as it is.”

Eyeing Teareal and Adamè intently, Ulrich waves the elf prince over to the cot after a moment.

“Aw hell. Why don’t you take that load off your arms, lad.”

Although he didn’t understand the words, clearly Teareal got the intent. Without so much of a smile of thanks, Teareal carefully laid Adamè down onto the bed. Even so, as she settled into the messy cot, she gave a harsh moan of pain.

Ulrich shoots a glance over at the poisoned elf and frowns even deeper.

“Yes . . . what exactly have you gotten yourself involved with here, lad?”

A Meaningless Speck of a Town Soon to be Even Less

Gorgondantess

At your “generous” offer, the man’s eyes widen.

“Er . . . y-yes, that would kill me. And I never said I know where Athelion is exactly.”

Hastily, the man throws up his hands.

“Wait wait wait wait! Listen to me, I wish to help, nay, serve You! Athelion has many worshippers, followers, servants – countless numbers of them, in fact. Some of them are very powerful – surely You cannot fight them all alone! Let me help You – we can build an army of our own! Further to the south there are many more towns, and much larger ones – with larger churches to match! If You want to weaken Him, and get His attention, You should start there!”