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Aeolius
Jul 16, 2003

Simon Templeman Fanclub
Lette

"The hell you say," Lette mutters to Skoll. "Suppose that's probably important to know, too, but there'll be time enough for that once we've nailed our runner to the wall. Come on."

She signals Larisa over. "Relay this to Isit. We'll start combing the market. From her vantage point, she can watch for anyone reacting to being looked for."

The kettle is screaming and hissing, boiling over fully at the sheer conceit — as though they could just take up in the shadows again after all they've done. They're quick, sure. They're perceptive. They're experienced. But they're not bloody psychic, and Lette intends to retrieve the brain samples to prove it.

Per 14; no surrender, no retreat

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Fraction Jackson
Oct 27, 2007

Able to harness the awesome power of fractions
Martin

"Hmph." He gives Skoll a pat on the head anyway - it was more than pertinent, but as Lette had said, that could wait. Martin's pace quickens as they backtrack again. "Dangerous as it is, we may want to split up when we get there," Martin suggests quietly. "I'm sure Isit can give cover if something goes wrong, until we can regroup. But more space covered means more chance of provoking a reaction." Given how quickly their quarry had bolted, it could work if they got there quick enough. And if they weren't quick enough, there were other ways to find what they sought.

As Martin considers it all he grins. Few would call him old, but in the moment he feels truly young again. He had learned, in the last few weeks, the follies of his decisions as a younger man, his spurning of his own position in life - but he did have a particular set of experiences for just this sort of moment, and the rush of returning to his prior reckless daring was irresistible. Especially in pursuit of this enemy, one that threatened family, friends, patron and all the living besides.

PER 12, Shadowing 13 if it helps at all when we get there.

NoControl
Aug 6, 2004
Genetic Runaround
Isit

With a muttered swear, Isit draws an arrow, but stands relaxed. He couldn't have gotten far. Maybe the others would flush him out.

Per 13

Mukaikubo
Mar 14, 2006

"You treat her like a lady... and she'll always bring you home."
And so the party rushes to the market, splitting up and- after a hurried fae-aided consultation with Isit to get a description- begins searching the area methodically, with Isit peering down at everyone from the ceilings ready to call out a target and try to put an arrow through its leg to slow it down. Skoll seems... confused, either by not being able to get the scent from the house that went to the docks or by the presence of delicious smoked meats, and though he wuffles back and forth is unable to find the Eagle. As are the others. After a frantic and increasingly desperate half-hour of searching, there's little left to be done but to call it off as a lost opportunity and return to the inn to plan. That night, the Eagle safehouse bursts into flame, and the guards are able to confirm that there's one body in the bedroom. Whether or not that made the plan a success or it was some common opportunistic burglar may remain unknown. Further safehouses are raided and trapped, following the same protocols as before; they've been cleaned out almost uniformly though, the first fire giving an unmistakeable warning to the Eagles that they've been made. Still, at least the loss of so many safehouses can't fail to at least interfere with their plans, whatever they end up being.

As day follows day, the walls continue to climb and thicken, and emissaries from Naantali start arriving in greater numbers. Drills of guards and citizens start to close off large open areas inside the city, readying themselves for the feared assault to come. Sure enough a messenger comes from the Palace at dawn some three days after the fire; "She'll be in range at noon. -R"

There seems to be little else he has to say.



Guys, sorry, but as is extremely apparent by now my mental stamina for pushing on is making the little screeching FUEL TANK EMPTY noise and continuing to stagger around side stuff is a surefire way to never finish; I've taken the Executive Decision to short-circuit a lot of stuff and bull on to the next major plot point.

NoControl
Aug 6, 2004
Genetic Runaround
Isit

Taking the letter, Isit scrutinizes it with a laugh. "Ball or bloodbath, we'll be seeing a queen soon. Think she'll challenge Roland to single combat? Or think that the Eagles will slaughter all of us first?"

Fraction Jackson
Oct 27, 2007

Able to harness the awesome power of fractions
Martin

It had been several long days of hunting, and little quarry or blood to show for it. It had, at that, still not been a total loss. Surely, at least by Martin's reckoning, the Eagles must have spent quite a long time establishing their little hideaways; having all of them compromised so thoroughly had to at least be some kind of detriment. That was something. But with all that done it seemed there was naught else left to do aside from discuss contingencies, and try to enjoy the days and nights given to them before the coming storm reached the walls of Noah. Days and nights too few in number.

Even a child, with no real understanding of war, could tell that something was coming. The distant din of mustering troops in other quarters of the city; the walls; and mostly, the constant tension and fear from the people. Soon enough that storm and those walls would meet.

The note they receive is just the latest harbinger of that storm, and Martin eyes it with some degree of annoyance. "Suppose it could not take her forever," he says, having hoped for at least another day, without expecting as much. "I suppose, too, that his Lordship will be planning to meet her and see if there is any chance left to avoid this mess."

The Baron frowns, unconvinced; after all, if he and his friends could barely move the Queen, it seemed that the harder way of resolving this was more likely. "Given that, I suppose we all ought to make ready." To Isit, he chuckles. "I don't expect she would do that unless she thought it to be a good test. I'm sure even His Lordship would agree it isn't." To the other suggestion of doom he makes no response; their meddling would either succeed or it wouldn't.

Fraction Jackson fucked around with this message at 22:33 on Mar 8, 2014

Aeolius
Jul 16, 2003

Simon Templeman Fanclub
Lette

"Angry" doesn't begin to sell it. Lette is a votive brazier to any god who'd leave this quarry nailed to a tree — a torch on a starless night, set to burn every shadow out of being. Thus did she join the others on the hunt, speaking fewer words than she meant, letting the destruction of each outpost punctuate the events. They extended themselves, even stepping outside of the city, all on the word of a being just as deserving of her vengeance as these knaves.

And through it all, there was a grasping for something more. Even as an occupant of her own head, she felt unsatisfied. Memories of the vision imparted by Meleuz are somehow soothing — a sort of perverse assurance that the potential to accomplish something does lay ahead. Perhaps that potential wore skin the color of ash and soot. So be it; it occurred to her once or twice, in the course of three fruitless days, that she had always rather fancied shades of gray.

But were they truly fruitless? The mission to root them out failed, but they had set them scurrying, for certain. And, when their route carried them nearer to the swamplands, Lette had requested a moment to pause and commune with Acanthi. She had promised she would return now and then, after all.

And so it came to pass that, in the course of her push to chase the night away, Lette's feelings were laid bare to the child. Just as earth-mother exemplified care, defense, so did sun-mother embody justice, and the prosecution of all the foul things beyond his border.

In this time of frank and patient revelation, even stretching to include dangers previously unmentioned — the Eagles, who seek an order that would not permit his existence; Eforiel, she who consumes the vital spirit — Lette finally decided on the boon Acanthi had granted her when she had been both mother and midwife to his new existence.

In her mind's eye, the realm of her dream, she shapes the mammoth furnace she had previously erected around the central flame. At its side, a circular opening takes shape, and resolves into locking valve fixture.

Nearby, a bit of the obsidian ground gives way to a patch of dark mud, and from this emerges that which she requested: the likeness of thick piping, which she pressed into the furnace's modification and twisted, locking it with a satisfying series of deep, metallic clacks.

All she had asked: a connection — something more concrete to carry with her — along with the understanding that just as she had fed him, so too might he one day be called upon to feed her flame. And the object of this calling: a lever-operated valve to regulate the flow.

---

She is not present as Roland's note finds the others. In her room in the inn, she sits in the bath, contemplating her actions. Gradually, the water dies down from a steady boil, and is scarcely more than mildly scalding by the time she returns to the present. She takes this as a sign that she ought to get started on her day.

In the common area, the others are poring over a note. "What news?" She scans it and nods. "Are we to be front and center for this?"

Lette is calling in her Favor, such that she can get Dream Swamp Gas piped in to her Flameworks Engine or whatever, for bigger and more amazing shenanigans on that side of the veil. I dunno exactly what any of this entails. But that's half the fun.

Gus Hobbleton
Dec 30, 2003
Probation
Can't post for 3 years!
Dolan

"Either front and center or in the shadows to the side. Knowing the mayor, probably front and center," Dolan grumbles. He had not been particularly looking forward to this day, especially after their failure at the safehouse. Whatever plans the Eagles had would likely be unaffected by their attempt to intervene, meaning that the Eagles had the advantage of knowing that Dolan and his compatriots didn't somehow secretly have an edge on them. He doubted that changed anything, but it was still an unpleasant thought. "I suppose we should go to see him, then. We'll need to be briefed."

Mukaikubo
Mar 14, 2006

"You treat her like a lady... and she'll always bring you home."
*cracks knuckles* OK, right after I posted that I got hit with a mega deadline and then the death flu. So poor timing. Take two: NOW sorry, and let's try to bring this ship back into harbor.

On the matter of Eagles, the gods remain silent. Caria seems... distant, when entreaties are made; the impression of a woman with far too many worries on her mind is strong, and though she offers what moral support and serenity she can to Martin, concrete aid is thin on the ground. The same for other supernatural sources; the fae stay well out of the way of the oncoming army, being able to find enough bandits elsewhere to keep them happily occupied with their new role as justices of the peace outside the burgeoning city walls. The Eagles' hideouts are burnt to the ground, their nests scattered. Perhaps the only sign of how badly their operations may have been compromised is that the party isn't murdered in their beds as a response, but positive information past that remains clouded as does so much else. In frustration and need of comfort, Lette too turns towards a source greater than herself; Acanthi understands both Lette's summation of events and her desires to be more able to influence events. The connection... though the boon is granted, it comes with a deeper connection to the swamp, another small step towards what Lette's more recent 'sister' had with it. Perhaps a price, perhaps another boon, but the salamander-born can feel the tug of the swamp on her mind as a near constant, gentle tide. It will be there when she needs it.

Come the morning, the party isn't far from their new inn when they're interrupted by a rarity in recent Noah. A crowd has formed up and down the main street, crowding the sides, and there's actually a faint sound of... cheering, from nearer the gate. It's not hard to shoulder to near the front of the line, and after a few minutes the reasoning's clear.

Naantali has arrived, and is leading her troops through the city.

The sphinx marches at the front, of course. The gleaming, polished and intricately ornamented armor she'd been fitting back on herself makes the leader shine like a small star brought down from the sky, and she marches with all the precision a quadruped is able to muster. Hair drawn back and hidden under her helmet, whose face is left open- the better to make her look less monstrous to the people- she smiles at the crowd, close-lipped but warm. The armor isn't heavy enough to hide the muscles in her lioness half, nor wings though she keeps those furled. Behind her, a pair of humans march with standards- one, Noah's own coat of arms and the other the simple rampant sphinx that was the closest thing the Freehold had to a sigil of its own. Behind them come the armored warriors; a squadron of centaurs, more of the mortals, some gnolls... hundreds of soldiers, pushing a thousand by the end, march by in good order. The quality of arms and armor is variable, but not the discipline. The people seem... mostly cheered that this mob is marching behind their standard, given what lies beyond.

"Just goes to signify, don't it?" An urchin girl pipes up beside Dolan; blonde and dirt-smudged, she looks at him far more knowingly than a child should. "Notice how they didn't march the scary looking ones in. No, they're being kept outside the walls, for reinforcements. Or for a breakout attempt if it comes to it." She sniffs, and giggles. "Almost enough to make an honest spy wish she'd killed more of the Queen's get when she had the chance helping you and that elf of yours out, isn't it? Oh well, we've all passed a lot of water since then. Nice work burning those houses- I'm assuming that's you lot- whose were they?" She scratches at her hairline, looking briefly as innocent as she wants to be but pitching her voice so that it's hard for any not at dwarf height to see her. "Anyhow, reason I'm here's to let you know. It's going down today, and if you need to ask what 'it' is you ain't been paying attention. No prizes for figuring which side I'm working for by now, I'm an honest mercenary and I haven't changed employers in yeaaaaars, haven't spilled the beans and I'm not about to, but you're smart. You'll figure out how much you can trust me. This is a freebie, because I like ya. When it starts, you magic sorts'll feel it like a punch in the gut, because the Eagles'll start sacrificing people. Building up the magic. Ritual'll take a while, and the feeling will just get worse until it's done, and when it's done, be someone else. Another world for preference." She spits on the ground. "Dunno where. Gonna do my own hunting in the hours we've got left. Good hunting to you- and see, there you've got one hint. I'm sure as all the hells not working for those bird-brained past worshippers." The 'urchin girl' is exceptionally slippery, and of course as soon as she gets one person between her and the party, she could be anyone; detaining her is impossible.

The last of the parade passes by, towards the Palace. It's not quite midmorning, and there are probably 3 hours left until the Queen's arrival before the walls of Noah. Time, it seems, is not on their side- but was it ever?

Mukaikubo fucked around with this message at 20:20 on Mar 23, 2014

Gus Hobbleton
Dec 30, 2003
Probation
Can't post for 3 years!
Dolan

Dolan watches the urchin girl disappear into the crowd, his face as expressionless as it had been throughout her speech. He had not interrupted her, not asked her the questions he wanted to ask her because he knew there would be no answers forthcoming, at least not anything more revealing than what he could guess himself. She worked much the way he did, it seemed, except with her advantage she could pull off some feats that would make any spy jealous. Nonetheless, there were some questions answered, and some direction; not much, but enough to begin. He kept an eye on Naantali's procession through the city, waiting for the inevitable ambush that never came. Apparently the Eagles had different plans. Probably something far worse.

He rounds the others up, quietly filling them in on the details around the back of the ruins of what must have been a workshop that had lain in ruins since the last attack, the sounds of the crowd outside making an almost palpable indent on the quieting field he had erected around them. "There's no telling exactly how long we'll have once we feel it. Most likely only a few minutes; I doubt they'd rely on anything slow, knowing that they'll be traced the instant they start." Of course, that also meant that they would be ready when they did begin. Always ready with the pleasant thoughts, Dolan was.

"In the meantime, we might want to look around. We don't have long, but we might be able to find something to indicate where they might be. Thoughts?"

NoControl
Aug 6, 2004
Genetic Runaround
Isit

Isit listens to Dolan's tale, eyes closed. Somewhat lethargic, she pushes off the wall she had been leaning on. "Well, if it was me, and I had to sacrifice a large number of people, I'd go where the crowds are. Then you could blow them up or slit thier necks real fast."

Aeolius
Jul 16, 2003

Simon Templeman Fanclub
Lette

"Unless they can stick that spider crap in an explosive, I assume it'll be something more hands-on. Gods, I hope they can't," she adds.

"She said she's not working for them. Given that they're working against everybody, I have to assume she'll have an interest in trying to stop them, too. Maybe she'll crop back up when it all starts."

Lette scowls. "I don't like this at all. If they kick their plan into high gear and we can't find them, then we'll need to change our approach, and figure a way to drive as many people out of the city as we can. I've got some ideas, but they're partial at best and, at the risk of giving away the twist, they all involve fire. Floor's open to other suggestions."

Fraction Jackson
Oct 27, 2007

Able to harness the awesome power of fractions
Martin

The Baron spends a long time - or at least, what for him is a long time - without a single word to say. But finally his voice stirs. "To be honest," Martin admits, "I am stumped. Reason tells me it's unlikely they plan to enact their ritual in that manner, if only because I expect that whatever they are doing is quite elaborate. It's not how many they kill, or even who they kill, but how."

"But if we accept that then it leaves us nowhere, and we have precious little time to find ourselves somewhere instead. drat them all." He grits his teeth, and looks off. "And there's the other half of things to consider too. No good, any of this. But I can't help but shake the feeling that...if we had but one more bit of information to go on, we'd have them. So let's go over everything, one more time."

Gus Hobbleton
Dec 30, 2003
Probation
Can't post for 3 years!
Dolan

"The entire process will be rather elaborate," Dolan says. "Extraction like this requires careful precision, not something that can be done by slitting throats of random people in a city square, not unless they learned more from the Spider than I can imagine. Unfortunately I still have no idea where to begin looking."

NoControl
Aug 6, 2004
Genetic Runaround
Isit

"Well I'm not a wizard, like I said. If they need privacy or something, I'd suggest and old temple or a sewer. Isn't that where cults hang out?" Pausing, her eyes narrow at Dolan. "What was the last thing that shapeshifter said to you?"

Gus Hobbleton
Dec 30, 2003
Probation
Can't post for 3 years!
Dolan

"That she's doing some hunting of her own, and doesn't work for those, and I quote, 'bird-brained past-worshipers.'"

NoControl
Aug 6, 2004
Genetic Runaround
Isit

"Hunting huh? Well at least we can hazard a guess about her employer."

Fraction Jackson
Oct 27, 2007

Able to harness the awesome power of fractions
Martin

"It's useful to know, but it still leaves us with no direction to start looking." Maybe they'd just have to luck into it. But it was awfully late to be relying on luck with these stakes. "We cannot afford to keep grasping at straws like this. We need to puzzle this out soon, else we'll be here all day," grumbles Martin. "And I suppose I don't have to say that we don't have all day."

He pauses a moment, before beginning to think out loud. "It'll be underground, or outside the city proper. We flushed the safehouses we knew of, so it has to be somewhere not on that map. But also somewhere they would have been able to prepare things, likely for some time."

"Where do we know that matches that?"

Aeolius
Jul 16, 2003

Simon Templeman Fanclub
Lette

Lette shrugs. "I got nothing. We've been to the stone circle, it ain't there. That's a bit far anyway. Their places in town are toast. They wouldn't touch temples, lest reveal themselves to their greatest foes. Seriously, what's left? City hall itself?"

Mukaikubo
Mar 14, 2006

"You treat her like a lady... and she'll always bring you home."
The suggestion hangs in the air after Lette makes it, quiet and unanswered. City hall, the 'palace'; it wasn't the tallest building, but it was high enough to overlook the walls from the roof, not all *that* far from the edge of the city, and if their suspicions about Lord Roland were right- or even if they weren't, since it would be an easy place to frame him from- the perfect place to assassinate a Queen. It's a tenuous chain of supposition, but with options and ideas dwindling as the shouts of Naantali's procession move towards the far gate, there's nothing left to do but try their best guess and leave themselves a path to the nearest gate if things go terribly wrong.

The usual guards are missing from the doors, and there seem to be fewer clerks than there should be on duty downstairs. A chill hangs in the air despite the morning sun filtering through the high windows, and something at the back of Dolan and Lette's brains begins to itch, tingling up and down their backs and raising the hair on the back of their necks. Going up the stairs, the Mayor is already gone outside to meet the Queen, office locked and secured, but- the guards are gone. There's a long cheer outside, and through a hall window it's barely possible to make out the corner of a scene; there's army in the far distance, but a smaller set of riders is heading for the city from it at speed with the larger-than-life figure of the Queen easily distinguishable. Coming backed by her army- but willing to ride under the arrows of the city walls to her meeting. It's a politically interesting move, but there's not much time to linger and puzzle out the implications. A quick search reveals the bodies of three guards shoved into a bathroom, each with their necks cleanly broken and tossed like driftwood into a quiet corner; whatever is occurring, someone wanted privacy and only needed a little time before they thought discovery would be irrelevant. With this evidence, the door to Roland's office is quick to be kicked down, but there's nobody there- all that leaves is the roof, a ladder on a balcony soon showing the way up.

The top of the building has enough ornamental architectural features that it doesn't take long to find a spot on the roof where someone climbing would be hidden from most of the rest of the roof, if not the streets below, and since any likely threat is going to be on the roof already it's an unhappy but necessary trade. Martin goes up first, of course. As soon as his head passes the level of the top of the roof, he can feel the change; the air takes on a deader, flat sound to it, with the sounds of the crowd muffled almost to silence. There's enough shelter for maybe three people to get behind a small spire without being easily seen by almost anyone atop the rest of the roof, no more- past that, it'll be hard to plan while talking above and below the line. What's worse, at the very limit of his hearing, Martin can hear faint chanting...


Dolan or Lette: As soon as either of your heads gets above the level of the roof, you can feel a large illusion spell taking over; similar to one of the privacy bubbles you use, only a bit larger and also muffling sounds inside it, though not completely cutting it off.

Oh yes, and you can also feel something exceptionally profane happening, magically speaking. It certainly 'smells' like Spider, only somehow... worse.

Fraction Jackson
Oct 27, 2007

Able to harness the awesome power of fractions
Martin

There had been nothing left to try except for that one gamble, and precious little time to try anything else had they come up empty. But by the time they found the bodies it was clear that the gamble was a good one, even if the trail seemed to lead up and not down as expected. Perhaps there was a reason for that, something about the ritual, some other factor. But the Baron has little time to consider such things as he clambers upwards.

For even one as magically disinclined as Martin, the feeling of something is inescapable, and even without that, he could hear them, too. As he hauls himself onto the roof, his mind turns to the Huntress, a plea for her to watch over him as he and his friends take the fight to the enemy. Then, using the spire for cover, he lays low and pokes his head over the edge of the roof again for his friends' benefit.

He doesn't dare speak above a whisper; indeed, he hardly does more than mouth the words. "They're here," murmurs Martin. "Not much room to hide." With that, he pulls himself back up, sliding over behind the spire once more, and taking a quick peek or two out from the side to see what there was to see.

PER 12, Observation 12, Stealth 14. Is there line of sight to where the chanting is coming from from where we are? And are there any other spires/outcroppings nearby to shuffle over towards?

Aeolius
Jul 16, 2003

Simon Templeman Fanclub
Lette

"No, not much," she quietly agrees. The muffling effect makes it hard for her to hear her own voice, though she still tries to keep it down. "It's fine; we need to act quickly."

So what will it be, then? Fire? Seems the obvious choice, but in what capacity? As she weighs her options, she lets her eyes unfocus, just trying to get a sense of the effect around her. Whether they can halt this or not, people must be warned, but however much noise they make won't matter from within. For a spell this powerful, she reasons, must be in place only tenuously; she can scarcely fathom sustaining such a spell over so large an area for long. Perhaps, if she finds the right fulcrum point...

"If we're about to get loud up here, might as well make it count."

Using Detect Magic ability (per 14 scan, IQ 13 analyze). If she can analyze it, she'll use Wild Talent to mock it up (effective skill 20) in conjunction with Counterspell 18. Whatever happens, let's at least make sure people know to get to safety! Effective skill is the lower of the two (so 18) and cost is half that of the spell countered.

Note: the above is contingent on Martin's intel; if he sees any reason she shouldn't break the spell, she won't try

Aeolius fucked around with this message at 03:03 on May 1, 2014

NoControl
Aug 6, 2004
Genetic Runaround
Isit

Keeping low behind the others, Isit's ears twitch. Drawing an arrow, she whispers to Lette. "Hypothetically, would blowing up an arrow in the middle of a bunch of chanting people be a good or a bad thing? Cause I can do that, or take a shot at whoever you think is the leader."

Aeolius
Jul 16, 2003

Simon Templeman Fanclub
Lette

"Good thing, I think. But 'an' arrow?" Lette asks distantly. "Use 'em all. I could try to stick flame on your arrows, if that'd help your thing; been thinking about how that might go."

Aeolius fucked around with this message at 14:04 on Apr 30, 2014

Gus Hobbleton
Dec 30, 2003
Probation
Can't post for 3 years!
Dolan

So their guess had been correct; that was a good change of pace. What wasn't was the fact that they had stumbled right into what was clearly an arcane ritual designed to bring about the end of the world. Comparatively, he much preferred insane lightning wizards and cultists with torches. Or even centaurs. No, not centaurs. He would have to wait for Martin's report before making any firm plans, but as long as he has lived he has known that nothing makes a ritual harder to complete than getting hit by a shitload of giant loving rocks. Iklist, I may need your help shortly, and I can't guarantee our survival. Are you ready?

NoControl
Aug 6, 2004
Genetic Runaround
Isit

Isit lets out a barely audible huff. "It'll impress, don't you worry. But fire is always welcome."

Mukaikubo
Mar 14, 2006

"You treat her like a lady... and she'll always bring you home."
The roof of the city hall has spires around the edge, consciously or not imitating the crenellations atop a castle's walls but broader and topped with a tapering wooden tower, less practically useful than aesthetic; from where the party has crawled up onto the roof in a corner, the chanting seems to be coming from the far corner nearer the city walls without a good, easy line of sight without exposing himself; similarly, getting to a closer perch would entail a quick burst into the open to get around spire and to another... at least, if he stayed on the roof to do so.

As Lette investigates the sense, all that she can easily sense is the general illusion covering the entire roof, presumably to conceal it from prying eyes on the street below or in the fields outside. There's the hint of something else, something darker but familiar underneath but it remains frustratingly elusive, partly cloaked by the more obvious illusory cloak. That spell is relatively easy to get her hooks into, sussing out the structure of how one magical strand after another is woven into the whole; while Martin waits, Lette methodically plucks away at the tune forming in her head, until abruptly the muffled sounds clear to Martin's eyes as the upper spell is aborted. There's a sudden halt in the chanting, but not in the replacement spell whose principles rush into Lette and Dolan's mind (accompanied in the latter by Iklist suddenly screaming); it's dark, a rich, oily kind of evil that seems to soak into the space behind their eyes almost instantly. It's the taste of raw Chaos on the back of their tongues, with a little blood, and a little bit of the impression of Spider- here, in the waking world, even if she wasn't physically present on the roof.

"Someone dispelled the illusion." A clipped voice calls out from near the source of the chanting. "Hello. I can guess who you are. There's no sense hiding anymore for either of us, I suppose. In, oh, two minutes it won't much matter."

Aeolius
Jul 16, 2003

Simon Templeman Fanclub
Lette

A chill. As the enchantment vanishes, what follows is felt all the more clearly, and its essence is odious to a degree unknown. "They're using something like Spider's magic, and hard. No, worse: It's like halfway between hers and what I felt in the void."

She turns to Isit. "Aim well," she says, gathering the strands of a spell in the form of a melody. If there indeed remained any doubt as to their identity, Lette removes it by playing something altogether new.

Second and final Wild Talent. Casting Flaming Missiles (20) on Isit's bow. Should cost another 2 FP net, leaving me with 4/12, on the brink of exhaustion straightaway. Oorah.

Aeolius fucked around with this message at 05:46 on May 5, 2014

Gus Hobbleton
Dec 30, 2003
Probation
Can't post for 3 years!
Dolan

"Good work," Dolan mutters as he feels the illusion fall. What he feels immediately after is, of course, not the most pleasant sensation, but he never expected it to be. It was familiar stuff, vaguely, but far less focused than what he'd been subject to, and far more powerful and pure. Whatever specifics they had in mind for that amount of power would be deadly at best, unthinkable at worst. Dolan had never been the most inclined to combat among his peers, but what he had learned over these years would see him through this. It would have to. He follows Martin's lead, and hauls himself up onto the roof. This would end, one way or another.


Casting Reverse Missiles (18) for 6 FP, using the powerstone which has an unknown number of FP in it because I lost track a loooong time ago, but it generates 2 FP/day since I last used it ages ago. Trying to stay in cover for the moment while also getting a peek at the disposition of the enemy. Stealth 12.

Fraction Jackson
Oct 27, 2007

Able to harness the awesome power of fractions
Martin

He quickly scans back and forth from his perch behind one of the outcroppings, but unfortunately the architecture simply wasn't arranged for what Martin was hoping. But then, time would seem to be the more pressing concern. Two minutes was not much.

It would have to be enough.

Martin unhooks his cloak, laying it over his arm, and draws steel with the other. He was going to have to get close in a hurry, and their advance would not be unopposed. So be it. "Cover's not placed well," he whispers to the others. "Can't see them from here, reckon they'll see us when we move." Then he smiles. "So we'll just have to get to them quick. Luck to all of you."

Of course, that didn't mean the cover wouldn't be important to making sure they could all get close enough to stop them. Martin pauses a half-second, then spins around the spire and launches himself at the next closest useful outcropping. They might see him as he runs, but, well - not for long. And it wasn't as though his quarry didn't know someone was there already. The time for being careful was over.

Acrobatics 14 if it helps to cover the distance; and just in case, noting this here: Parry Missile Weapons base 12, +2 from cloak, for 14.

NoControl
Aug 6, 2004
Genetic Runaround
Isit

The one in charge now spoke. Or she assumed it was the one in charge. Perhaps the voice was just a talker that wanted to distract them for a few moments. "Well it was all going to end with bloodshed anyways." Nodding at Lette, her eyes go wide as her weapon bursts into flames. When she died, she would die happy knowing she finally got to set things on fire while shooting them. "Im living the dream." Smiling, Isit stays behind cover, points her arrow in the general direction of the talker, draws back her bow and releases it. Lucky for her she didn't have to see the talker to shoot them.

She'd never used this little spell in practice mind you, but if it worked, it would be impressive. Or it would backfire horribly and burn them all. Details.

Homing Arrow 14, Bow 13+(3 acc)= 16
Composite Bow 1d+2 imp
FP 13\14 spending one on homing arrow. Let's see if this works!

Mukaikubo
Mar 14, 2006

"You treat her like a lady... and she'll always bring you home."
Pouring over the edge of the roof and opening up fire support from the ledge, the party ventures one more time into the breach. As Martin pushes himself free from his cover and heads for the next, he can see from the roof of the city hall what lies beyond. Outside the walls, the carefully lined off meeting space is a straight shot from the far corner of the building. From the seat of government of the city, to assassinate someone with forbidden magic; that's the kind of combination that would guarantee a vicious and bloody war... if not a particularly well fought one, depending on who was the target. But Martin and the others cannot allow anyone to be shot down today. Arrows and spells begin pounding where the Eagles have to be, and soon Martin has to wade in; there's one with a sacrificial dagger kneeling over someone bound and gagged, a taste of burning tin in the air, and one Eagle with weapon and armor placidly ready...

History hangs in the balance. Two eagles, four heroes, one war.

The end was foreordained- or, at least, an end was foreordained. One body falls from the roof, and it's not Martin. One other dies there, and it's still not him. Nobody in the peace meeting falls over dead, their soul dragged through an arrow and out into the abyss; Spider does not tear her way through a thinned reality to begin her second reign of terror right then and there. There's no bloody siege, no need for heroic sacrifices of ill-trained soldiers.

On the other hand: Lord Roland still runs Noah, and may still be someone Else. Spider still lurks, a vicious demigod still has an army at her disposal, and the gods' wars still spiral out of control almost everywhere else.

But here and now, there is peace, and a halt to the killing. And maybe even a very happy harpy.

Perhaps that's enough. Not The End... but An End.



It's long past time for me to admit what's probably been clear to you guys for the better part of a year; I've been effectively driving my mental GMing car down the highway in first gear and listening to the engine tear itself apart to try to drive a third of the speed I should. On the one hand, I desperately love this setting, you guys have pretty much been awesome, and this game is probably the most successful one I've ever had and will ever have. On the other hand... the desire to actually post and update it has been lacking for a very long time, and I've been letting it limp on and on out of a sense of duty to not end this game before a True End like I've done to so many others. It's not fair to you guys as players, it's not fair to me as a GM, and it's not fair to anyone who's still actually reading this monster (if you are, I love you!). So: Best to make a clean break now. It's not the True End I hoped to get to.

But it is An Ending.

It will have to do.

Once more: I love you guys, you basically have free passes to anything I run in the future, it just... the spark has been gone for a long while now. I'm sorry it turned out this way- I'm never going to stop being sorry it turned out this way- but if anything I should have done this months ago.

Fraction Jackson
Oct 27, 2007

Able to harness the awesome power of fractions
Martin

"Seems strange, you know. I was just starting to get used to this place. But I suppose...there is little work left here to do."

Noah's gates stood not far off in the fading light, taller and more formidable than they had seemed when the man had first looked upon them. But Martin, son of Lucien, First of his Name, rightful Baron of Wallin was hardly the same man as he was a scant few weeks ago, nor was anyone there. A lifetime lived in the time before the moon had gotten back to the same spot in the sky, and after it all ended, when they could finally all breathe again, the world was hardly the same either. For Martin's part, the journey and the celebration of peace seemed to leave him with little energy, perhaps as much because it was all over as anything else.

But there was no time to dwell on it all, or to give in to that tiredness. There was still work to be done, and the sudden outbreak of peace in this corner of the land had renewed his faith. The uncharted lands of the future beckoned. Other lands. Other crises. Other enemies. And somehow, through it all, a faint scent of copper and blood still lingered in his mind, pushing him on. A faint grayness lurked at the edges of his vision. Perhaps it would never leave.

"I seem to recall," says Baron Martin de Mignolet-d'Avre, "there was a plan for when this mess had ended. When history was done being written." As he speaks, whatever weight his shoulders had borne for the hours before floats away. When he first came to this place, what he was about to suggest he would have dreaded; now, it was unquestionable. All that remained was to see who would go with him.

"Yes, plans." He looks to everyone in turn. "A castle, and titles to give, and a promise to keep. Isn't that right, darling?" He gives Isit a wink. "Friends to find - and enemies too. I suppose that holds no matter what any of us choose," he adds more somberly as he turns to Lette. "Mistakes of those from the past to set right," Martin concludes with a glance and a nod to Dolan.

"After all," he says with a sly smile as he looks off towards the walls again, a gleam in his eye, "we haven't run out of history yet." He points off in the distance, to the southeast. "Straight on 'til morning?"

Since the thread was left open if we wanted to do sendoffs, I just wanted to say: It's been a great run. A hell of a ride. Regardless of how it turned out in the end, I've got no regrets, everyone was amazing, and I wouldn't trade it at all. So let's all take our ride off into the sunset and close the book.

NoControl
Aug 6, 2004
Genetic Runaround
Isit

"I'm just shocked this didn't all end in a bloodbath. Well, more of one. I guess I owe all of you drinks." Slinging her bow over her shoulder, she looks back at the city. "I suppose Noah is saved, so objective accomplished? And none of those strumpets in charge of armies tried to steal Martin away, so double win." Laughing, she winks at Lette. "Speaking of, should I start making veiled threats at any harpies? Especially concerning the fallout for heat breaking? I'm sure Dolan and I can draft some loving creative threat, yeah?" She nudges the dwarf and laughs.

"I certianly do remember a plan! Involving a castle!" Isit shrugs at Martin. "You always were a romantic. Myself, I'm ready to take back your lands for our family. Larisa and I have some ideas. After all, a fae-mortal dynasty isn't built on blood alone. Though it certainly helps." A fae and mortal dynasty. Considering the cost it took to get it started, Isit would make it worth it. Her people would be no fools. Top to bottom, they'd craft a better dynasty. A stronger one perhaps. Certainly they couldn't do worse than some. With a laugh, she pats her horse and wheels it around. "To morning."

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Aeolius
Jul 16, 2003

Simon Templeman Fanclub
Lette

quote:

Dear Wren,

The scene was a mess in short order. Had she fired a flare into the air, absent any enchantment to mask it? All passed too quickly.

Jets of flame drew from reserves she doubted she even still had — perhaps not her own. Another detail lost to the haze of battle. At some point she took a shallow cut to her thigh. So much had apparently happened. It's a puzzle, really.

From the moment Isit's arrows began to burn like fingers of the sun, only a few events stand out in memory.

quote:

I am coming to kill you.

She remembers catching one straight in the face with her jet. Even before he fell back off the ledge and broke his neck on the cobbles below, it was clear eyes, a nose and lips were no longer among his features.

She remembers closing on Wren — or had it been Mary all along? — and staring down the shaft of a nocked arrow. She remembers singing with a voice far more ancient than her own. It was the voice of the one she'd met in her dreams.

And she remembers the arrow passing harmlessly through the parting flames where a solid body had stood a split second before.

Her hand, no longer emitting but composed of flame, reached forward, into the gasping breach before her. Ever so delicately, she plucked at an instrument unlike any other. A scream halted abruptly as her ministrations transmute the issuing larynx into charcoal.

It would never sound again, true to the lore — stolen, along with the color of her eyes, by a fae.

Indeed, Wren's life had a fairy tale ending.

quote:

Love,

Lette

---

Isit's joke gets a smirk. "You know I'd never tell you who to threaten; just follow your bliss. And I'll do the same — that fireproofing of his needs a proper stress test." Now it's a big ol' poo poo-eating grin. As she comes within range of her cousin, her cousin-in-law, her adoptive grandpa, she gives each a rib-cracking hug.

She stares down at the summit, proceeding in what appeared for all the world to be an amicable fashion. "Think it'll work?" She already knows the answer: if the fates see fit. The whole godfangled affair is up to the leaders and their people, now.

For now, they could turn eyes to other matters. They could pause from the existential dread of war. They could see to a barony in need. Not to say, of course, she wouldn't be obligated to keep a hand in matters here. Perhaps her right hand; since the fulfillment of a promise made in the pages of a journal and committed to fire, since the finch stole the song of the wren, from fingers to elbow, her right arm had taken on now-familiar shades of mottled ash.

No great surprise, really.

She claps this hand against her other, still obviously human one, as Martin finishes his oration. "Real sweet of you to practice Baroning on us and all."

Turning to Dolan, she gives a light strum. "C'mon. We'll patch up these scratches and hit the horses. I swear we'll get you comfortable in the saddle one of these days..."

A new day beckons.

---

And each day saw the sun plot a familiar course, ultimately taking it back to the earth.

So, too, a sun-mother.

On an indeterminate night, a harpy passing over the area known as Acanthi catches the faint glint of moonlight off a muddied tangle of skin and scale, resting contentedly under the boughs.

He smiles, adjusting his course for a landing.

Aeolius fucked around with this message at 14:48 on Jun 17, 2014

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