"Yes, we have one objective. Destroy their leader. Use the wand on our allies, please, several appear injured."
Toramin hands one of the silversheens to Bjorkus.
Bjorkus uses the healing wand to mend himself and his allies.
"If we question that one," Dalton suggests, indicating their survivor, "he may aid our search."
Gabriel nodded to Dalton. "He can help us with that, among other things. I am still curious to know how much information they have on the 'invaders'. They can't all be as cruel as Ulric, and if they're not fanatics perhaps they can be reasoned with... This would be a much less bloody fight, and a much more secure city, if the Whitecloaks as an order could be salvaged."
With some of Gabriel's care and a splash of water to the face, the badly wounded white cloak wakes up. He takes half a second to look around, fights ineffectively against his rope bonds, then leans against the wall with a sigh of surrender. "S%%*. Is anybody else alive?"
Gabriel nods slowly, though he does glance almost guiltily at the bodies of those who didn't make it. "A couple escaped into the allies, but several were killed as well. I'm sorry, I got to them as quick as I could, but only your injuries hadn't been instantly fatal."
Despite the fact that they had just attacked Gabriel's group the paladin did sound genuinely sorry for the loss of life. And it wasn't just because they were men supposedly of the law. He glances to the others, to see if anyone would stop him, and then continues talking. "I am Gabriel Leoni, squire to Sir Geoffrey, paladin of Abadar. I realize you may not worship the god, but as a member of a lawful you recognize him yes? If I give you my word that we will spare your life and torture, will you agree to avoid causing trouble? I do not wish to end a life I do not have too, today."
He pauses a breath, then adds, "In fact... if I had it my way, I would try and spare as many of your order as I could."
"Yes I know of Abadar. I don't see the point in fighting back considering you could take on half a dozen of us." He gives Gabriel a suspicious look. "And why is that?"
"You are the lawkeepers and peacemakers in this town. The law will change, but to nothing so grotesque as it was under the Tyrant Targ. Men and women and children will need not fear being taken under these laws. Slaves will be free. This city will grow and prosper... but... it will still need those willing to protect the law and those the law is meant to protect. The whitecloaks, at least from what I understand, are already an order that does this. Perhaps they can continue doing it." Gabriel takes a breath. He had a tendency to ramble, but they really didn't have time to waste dancing around the problem.
"Mhmm, aren't you the bloody optimist." He coughs, spitting up a little blood. "Harsh lands breed harsh people. You may make things nice for a little, but it'll come back to this. It always has, always will. Targ isn't the reason for the way things are, he's just the one in charge for the moment. Well, was."
Gabriel grins then, fiercely. "Whoever said anything about nice? These people will need fierce protectors, willing to die, willing to kill, willing to burn and destroy and fight and claw those who would try and take their freedom. You say we'll make things nice. I say..."
Then he frowns, and stands, looking down at the man. The blood was not something to worry about, this he knew. He was coughing up something from his injury but Gabe had patched it up pretty well. "Not nice... but not cruel either. That is the difference we will make. I have met enough people here to know that harsh does not always mean cruel. Sometimes... sometimes it just means rough, coarse. Are you a cruel man?"
The man looks at Gabriel in silence for a moment. "That's...an interesting way to look at things." He pushes his head against the building, using it to lower his hood. Underneath is a human man somewhere in his mid 20's. He has the odd tan line that the party saw earlier in the manse, and some stubble around his jaw. "I like to believe I'm not, that all the bad things I've done were just to survive. Maybe that does mean I'm cruel though, it's all relative I guess."
Gabriel seemed to be getting what he needed from the man, so Dalton didn't interfere. And my words wouldn't be as kind.
Rilka holsters her pistol and rejoins the others. ”I’m uninjured,” she says as Bjorkus begins using a wand to heal people. Seeing the white cloak, she nods her approval in his capture. ”Well done. Let’s see what type of gear he has. You raise an interesting point Gabriel,” she says as she begins searching the white cloak for hidden weapons, potions, or devices. ”The Aussirian Legion has been an order for maintaining the city’s structure. Can it be an order for good?”
Masterwork Short Sword x2
Dagger x2
Masterwork Composite Longbow (Rating 3)
20 arrows
2 pyrotechnics arrows (blinding effect only)
2 pyrotechnics arrows (smoke effect only)
2 tanglefoot arrows
Potion of CMW x2
Manacles
Ring of Communication (not working)
Toramin stares at the back of Gabriel's head incredulously. It is like the boy is willfully ignoring my council and trying to undermine the revolution.
"Places are what people make of them. You and your order have made a hell of this place. I doubt the people here want those who are willing to be the boot of a petty tyrant around to be the boot again. When something is being reforged you must melt down the old to create anew. You and your order are not welcome here as you are regardless of the lies you told yourselves to be able to live as you were. Nothing the boy says will change that. Change yourselves or be driven forth and smashed into ruin."
The white cloak looks back and forth between Toramin and Gabriel. "Is this some sort of good-cop bad-cop routine? Because I don't know what you're trying to get out of me."
"The white cloaks have always endured. Under different names, under different rules, under different laws. There will always be a need for men to enforce laws, just or no. You know a lot about us, that's true, but there's more you don't."
"No doubt. We don't know your secret handshake nor have we been initiated into your higher mysteries -- you are something of a cult or mystical order it seems. I want nothing from you besides for perhaps the swiftest direction to your boss. Those words were for you in part -- to exhort you to be better, but more they were for my companion who has forgotten that neither justice nor the world bend to make him more comfortable."
"Ha! Cult, that's cute. He's right kid, the world is unbending and harsh, best get used to it. Judging by the brand on your arm I'd say you should learn quickly."
"Tsch, I did not say that the world does not bend, merely that his comfort is not its pivot. I would be fascinated to hear more about your special club at a later time, but we can not dally. Would you like to tell us what we need and swear to leave the city, or would you prefer to be crippled so that you may no longer harm others."
"Either one would get me killed, and I'd rather not be branded a traitor before I died."
Gabriel glared at Toramin. He had the man thinking, thinking of something better, but it seemed Toramin had started to bend to this harsh land. "I remember a dwarf not a couple months ago telling me it was foolish to judge one by the lot, and it baffled you that humans could do so so easily. Have you learned so quickly of our ways, Toramin, that you would brand every whitecloak evil for the actions of a few? Have you learned nothing from the healers you spoke so well of?"
Gabriel purposefully turns away from the dwarf, his face not hiding his anger. But when it looked down at the injured man, he said calmly, "We have reports that Ulric is slaughtering everything he comes across, be it undead, infiltrator, or civilian. The majority of Akropesh's people have been armed, and are now being prepared to march through the streets and take their freedom by force. Either this ends with as little bloodshed as possible... or Akropesh becomes crippled, its citizens dead along side its protectors."
Gabriel pauses... then looks back toward the ragtag group he was with, purposefully overlooking the dwarf that had infuriated him so. "We would protect the people of Akropesh from such death. If it means killing Ulric, it means killing Ulric. Whatever he was, if our reports are true he is now nothing more then a murderer as bad as the Tyrant he followed, willingly or not. But again I say... I would rather see as many of your order survive as possible. Not out of mercy. As I said, nothing so kind. Out of necessity. You think the Whitecloak order will continue, perhaps under another name, and maybe you're right... but if the citizens succeed then none of the existing members will be a part of it. And if Ulric succeeds... then your order will be protecting a city filled with corpses, moving and not."
Gabriel's eyes turn back to the man, weighing now. "Perhaps you have been cruel in the past, but at least here today you have been honest. That means something.. even if most don't believe it. Tell me, honestly, which outcome would you have happen, had you the choice?"
"You're demonizing him. He's killing infiltrators because they're threatening his city. He's killing civilians that are helping them. And every white cloak that falls becomes an undead within minutes." He jerks his head at the recently slain corpses. "If I were you I'd cut their heads off before they come back." He shakes his head. "Ulric's pissed, he's got a thing about undead, and his own men being turned into them only makes it worse. If you even mention that damned necromancer's name in front of him he'll knock you to the ground."
Gabe’s lengthy and rather passionate speech gets Bjorkus’s attention. After giving Talev one last tap from the healing wand, the bull tucks it away and leaves the elf a moment to clean himself up.
”A survivor?” he rumbles in disbelief.
Hearing the prisoner explain a bit about the werewolf’s state of mind, really gets Bjorkus’s interest. ”With how long he's been on Targ's payroll, I'd say Rual's done plenty to demonize himself. That man's a monster and you're no better for marchin' under his command. Now what's this 'bout a necromancer? Is this Targ's witch’s work or is there another powerful magic-user in Akropash?”
Gabriel heard both sides. In the end he didn't think Bjorkus could be convinced that perhaps Raul could be used, but the again... "Ares isn't wrong. Raul was the one who had him brought to be tortured... but at the same time Ares, it wasn't he who was torturing you. Perhaps he was simply fooled, though I doubt it. Either way, those friends of yours tried to manipulate us again. Things aren't as black and white as they would have us believe. I think its time we stop dancing to their tune and choose our own..."
Despite knowing he shouldn't, Gabriel felt a brief flicker of hope. Perhaps this could be ended without further bloodshed. And of all the people he knew, the bull was the most likely to understand, even if he didn't want too, of the the chance people had to become more. From Pirate to Honorable slayer of Tyrants.
Toramin gives Gabriel a steady look. "You have already made yourself a liar, Gabriel. You promised me you would not act as if the white cloaks were merely local constables. Yet, here you are belying your promise to me. You don't have the necessary information to treat with them or promise them anything. He just confirmed their fraternal nature, but you don't listen. You speak, but you do not think."
Gabriel scowled at Toramin. "I have sworn nothing to you Toramin, and everything to my gods, who one and all bade me give a man whose heart was not filled with evil a chance. I said that I was ready to fight them, and if they do not yield, I will. And while you let your anger and shame control your actions, I will try and do my job and prevent bloodshed if it can be done."
Toramin turns from Gabriel. "The only shame here is your pride and your lies."
Dalton chuckled in amusement. Oh, the clashes of the moral...
"SPEAKING of bloodshed ...," began the wizard, trying to keep the primary task at the front, "I believe a certain commander is due for a visit. You can flip a copper to choose who gets to decide the language on our self-delivered invitation, but we might be a bit late to the party if we don't get there in short order."
"Payroll? More like under his thumb. Or that b!#+* necromancer of his. And yes, I mean Acera." He shrugs. "As I said, I did what I thought I had to to survive. If that makes me a cruel man, so be it." He appears to be immensely amused by the arguing paladins.
Rilka inventories the white cloak’s gear and takes one of each arrow for studying later. She stashes them in her backpack. Next she wordlessly gives Toramin and Gabriel each one of the potions as they discuss the situation. She also pockets the ring which she has longed to examine since she became aware of them.
Hearing the revelation about the undead, Rilka takes one of the white cloak’s short swords and decapitates the dead bodies. She can’t do it in one stroke since they are on the ground. Her first cut is deep across the throat. The second is from the back of the neck, slicing upwards to meet the first cut. It’s not elegant, but it keeps the blade from slashing into the ground. She wipes the sword on a corpse’s uniform.
”Anyone want a new weapon?” she asks Ares’ honor guard. Anything unclaimed she passes to Dalton to put into his magic bag.
”If we’re successful, the people of Akropash will decide what happens to the the white cloaks,” she offers her opinion, mostly to Toramin and Gabriel. ”Can you both trust each other enough to fight Ulric side-by-side? Dalton do you know of any magic that might prevent the white cloaks from turning undead?”
She thinks about the undead herself:
"That is as it should be, Rilka. For the people to decide."
He doesn't address her second statement mostly because he doesn't understand. Of course he would fight next to Gabriel, he fought next to Lindale and Toramin had believed he was acting against them since the night that nameless alchemist escaped.
Gabriel's eyebrows rose and he glanced at Toramin, surprised it was even in question. "Disagree though we might... and fervently this time... Toramin is as much my brother as any actual flesh and blood siblings I might have, probably more so. And you are right Rilka..."
He pauses, then says, "I think if we are too rash though, they might not have a chance. Ulric must be brought down but there are too many questions as to some of his crimes. Others we have witnessed, but a chance for him to surrender bloodlessly, or to even turn the whitecloaks away from attacking the civilian army that is going to be marching. The whitecloaks are skilled while the civilians will have numbers, until they start to rise that is. It could be a massacre even if we win. Best to avoid it at altogether I say."
He glances to Toramin, and then to Bjorkus and the others. "He likely knows we're coming already. The only thing that trying to talk him down would cost us is a little time, and every moment he spends talking to us would be a moment he's not ordering his soldiers."
Bjorkus eyes the corpses warily and then looks to Dalton.
"Can you get a whiff of whatever spells that witch is weaving to raise the dead? It'd help if knew what she was up to."
With Toramin and Gabriel's disagreement tabled for now, he snorts and gives the prisoner a nod.
"What's your name boy?"
The white cloak pointedly ignores Bjorkus.
Dalton shakes his head at Rilka. "Undead are not my specialty, I'm afraid. There's enough death in this world as it is without people poking and prodding with the boundary between it and life. Though I have developed a potential cantrip to ward-off veil creatures, their destruction or prevention is not something I know how to do." Which is all the more reason we must end this charlatan rule here. "But I can see if there is some lingering energy from Acera or whomever."
”Perhaps if we witness one transform we could gain some new insight,” she says as she looks at the beheaded corpses. Maybe I should have kept one intact for that purpose, she thinks. No, even if that was my last opportunity, which I doubt, it’s better to prevent any undead from being created.
Rilka chuckles, grinning at Toramin and Gabriel, ”Great! That’s the Aestherics’ way on most missions.” She nods and gives a half shrug. ”I don’t mind giving a person a chance to surrender, but I don’t think Ulric will. Plus the city’s going to need to create an entirely new code of laws...topics we can discuss later.”
She turns her attention to the white cloak. ”For someone who’s been beaten in combat and seen your companions die, you’re fairly sure of yourself. Won’t answer Ares? How would you have handled a prisoner’s refusal to answer your question? I bet you'd already be beating the man. You say the white cloaks have always endured under different names and rules and guises. You raise some interesting questions. I’ll visit you in prison and we can talk about that. Men needing to enforce laws, just or no,” the halfling scoffs.
”I don’t see anymore reason to talk to him,” Rilka says to her companions. [b]”He says he doesn’t want to die a traitor. I don’t think he’ll tell us anything about Ulric we don’t already know.”
"Good. Use those manacles and bind his feet. We can come back for him after we stuff him in some alley way."
Toramin was quick to agree with Rilka. She is their commanding officer.
Done with the belligerent and corrupt lawman, Bjorkus does just that. After securing the manacles he gestures for one of his honor guard to pick the prisoner up.
"We'll drop him someplace where he'll be outta sight and hopefully outta danger. Let's get goin'."
Gabriel sighs, but in the end nods to Rilka. She wasn't his commanding officer, didn't even know that she was one, but her points were valid. The best they could do now was put the threat down as hard as they could before the barely armed and hardly trained citizens entered the battle field. After a moments thought, Gabriel reached into the pouches sticking out the side of his breastplate and pulled out a bandage, then wrapped it around the mans mouth, gagging him. "No idea how their earings work but I bet its harder to send information when you're gagged."
He could be wrong of course, but there was no hurt in trying. Then another idea occured to him. He smiled a little and walked over to the whitecloaks bodies. He would try and remove the cloaks intact, taking one for himself and offering the others to the rest. "The undead aren't attacking the whitecloaks. Maybe we can avoid fighting them and save our strength if a couple of us wear these."
Dalton detects no magic in the area, although there are traces of fading magic on the bodies.
The white cloak looks at Rilka suspiciously. "Yeah, most likely. But I'd rather be killed now than killed for being a traitor. So get on with it or cut me loose."
The white cloak looks massively pissed at the idea of being carried around like a sack of potatoes, but Boris has no objection to being the carrier, easily picking up the man in a fireman's carry.
Gabriel has no trouble removing the cloaks, although the rest of the white outfit would take a little bit of time to take off the bodies. There is also some bloodstains over most of the outfits.
Bjorkus is content to leave the delusional prisoner in Boris's arms.
"Let me make somethin' clear boy. You're only alive 'cause you were lucky and smart enough to not give me a reason to see you dead. Unlike Gabe here, I don't give a s*@~ about salvagin' your corrupt order - you're a weak worthless boil on the ass of this city that's been left to fester for too damn long. I do believe that some people deserve second chances. If you've got any sense you'll suck up your pride, show some respect, and prove that you're one of 'em."
After Gabe's finished robbing the fallen Whitecloaks of their famous attire, Bjorkus gestures for the party to follow.
"Come on. We've got a rabid dog to put down."
Yes, something like that. For his crude appearance, Bjorkus was damned good with words - and in this case, they were quite similar in message to what Dalton would've conveyed.
"There was magic used on these bodies - not too terribly long ago. The question is how many hours, not days, prior they were activated."