Valarius was caught off guard by Soractus's suggestion of insurrection. Would the petitioners living on the farms, whether they be those who had yet to take the Test, had yet to be placed, or had perhaps failed the Test, so desire to bring down Hermea? If that is the case, why would they even be here? And why does the Consul even consider such an uprising as a possibility? What has gone on in Torch? Valarius shakes his head slightly, knocking all the questions out of his mind.
Looking to Soractus, "While the nature of the researcher's mission was secret, I am sure their presence was known. That being the case and their lack of recent communication, I believe it would be perfectly reasonable for us to be checking on the status of the research team, and the town as a whole, while there. As far as discussion with others outside this room, or cursory interactions as already addressed above with those in Torch, we have been assigned a task under the Unity Principle that we must complete for the good of Hermea. Plain and simple."
Archelaos takes a moment to send a whisperline message to both Ikatia and Jamides. Not really at ease with secrets and classified mission, he says as little as possible without sounding suspicious – mostly, he tries to make it sound boring and trivial -Hello. I will be traveling inland on an assignment by the consul in the next few days. Sorry to miss our date! I’ll see you when I get back.-
Both Cletus and the stage director fall into his “chain of command”, so they’ll be officially informed.
Still uncertain about his role, but somewhat intrigued to go back to the farmstead where he grew up, Archelaos looks at Artemios with a bit of impatience, eager to be told the next step. He approaches Simeon “I don’t know your memories of Torch, but I have very little negative things to say.” he bites his tongue, thinking back at the flashes of emotion he’s getting.
“Mostly, the only bad thing that ever happened to me was the accident, and now I can properly thank you.” he smiles warmly and extends a hand to the surgeon “I have heard some call my healing miraculous – an improper word of course: there are no miracles, only skill and study. Still, even if you had only a small part in it, I am grateful.”
The Origines consul seems a touch impatient with them. "Place your requisitions that you might need, and we will supply whatever we can. However, your departure will not be held up waiting for supplies. You will have to make do with whatever is available. I trust in your ingenuity and resourcefulness in evaluating and solving the problem. You would not have been selected if you were not thought to be up for the task. Report in thirty minutes to the northern city gates. Your transport will be waiting along with the supplies that we are able to get for you. May you succeed in Unity." Without so much as a goodbye, Dolga sun-Origines exits from the briefing room. They are left with each other and the afternoon view of the city through the window.
Simeon gladly accepts the offered hand, with a warm smile that makes his otherwise slightly dour eyes light up. "I'm glad to have been able to help, and pleased that the recovery was so complete; your injuries were at the limit of what I could manage! Of course, I've learned a great deal since then," he murmurs.
He requisitions a backpack, 2 weeks' emergency rations, 2 Antitoxin vials, waterskins, water purification kit, a further Healer's kit, pistol and ammunition, panic suit, radiation detector, gas mask, a couple more flashlights, a firelighting kit and rope.
He ensures that the silverdisks are all fully charged (he was caught out that way once before - never again) and generally checks that people are remembering the basics like food and water: he has been away from the city on assignment before, but he doesn't know who else has. Best to take nothing for granted.
Dryth gives a list of items to Artemios for requisition: Ion tape, a zip stick, a waterskin, 2 weeks of rations, a backpack, waterproof bag, tar bomb, alchemist fire, smoked goggles, panic suit, and radiation detector. "The rations are probably overkill as the farmers should allow us a share of their food. But if something went wrong in the research station, anyone we find in there may be suffering from hunger."
Artemios's Requisition List
1 rifle (already have a revolver)
Panicsuit
160 bullets (160 gp)
1 flashlight (30 gp)
1 lighter (10 gp)
"Standard supply requisitions then, I assume? Standard weapon, Panic Suit, Rations and Field Gear, plus the typical tools of the trade, yes? Very well, I'll write it up."
Soractus pulls out a small notebook and writes up a small list, handing it to the Consul. "I trust this should be sufficient. Do inform me if anything can't be procured in time. I do fully expect that it will be difficult to fill completely, but I'd hate to be surprised by any of the specifics."
- One (1) Standard Sidearm Revolver, and a standard, sufficient allotment of Ammunition.
- One (1) Standard Firearms Maintenance Package.
- One (1) Standard Issue Panic Suit
- One (1) Standard Issue Field Supply Kit; Backpack, Rations, Etc.
- Two (2) Weeks of standard long-lasting field rations.
- One (1) Standard issue set of field glasses.
- One (1) Standard protective leather jacket.
- One (1) Crowbar
- Three (3) Standard Issue Combat Knives
After finishing the list, he pulls out his Whisperline and makes a few calls. The first is to Lucalino, who, not working doesn't answer. He leaves a message.
"Listen, I'm sorry buddy, but I've been called out on Assignment and can't make the Games tomorrow. I'll have an Automaton sent over to your place with the tickets tonight. I trust you'll make excellent use of that second ticket, and not let seats that good go to waste, right? What was the name of the Zyphran you'd had your eye on? I expect some good news on that front when I get back, you hear me?"
The second, is to an office at the Oculus;
"Yes, hello?... Aegedyce, how are you! Listen, I know we had dinner plans, but I'm going to have to cancel. ... Yes, I know how hard it is to get the ingredients, but I'm afraid I don't have much choice in the matter. Listen, we'll reschedule, and I'll get a vintage bottle of red. ... Don't worry about how, Lucalino owes me a favor. Listen, I'll see you when I get back.
I do hope they can get that kit to the drop in time. It wouldn't do to be heading into a research facility without picks...
With all of his arrangements made, Soractus looks around at his new companions, and asks; "So then, now that supplies are arranged, should we be off? Or does anyone have any further last minute preparations to make?"
Simeon has wandered slightly apart from the others to make his call to Zoe, whispering endearments that he's not entirely comfortable being overheard in public and explaining (as best he can) the situation.
He makes a face: he was looking forward to this evening. Oh well. Unity prevails.
Rejoining the others, he nods at Soractus. "Ready."
Artemious makes a call to the Lucarus barracks, informing the Officer of the Day that he is under orders and will be away for an undisclosed length of time.
After he collects his requisitioned gear, he returns to the briefing room.
"Ready," he agrees.
Dryth uses his Whisperline to call his supervisors at the lab. He explains he is being called away to address an urgent task. He makes a second call to Grace. "Gracie." He can hear her grimacing over the line. She always hated that nickname.
"Gracie, I've been asked to be part of a project. Last minute thing. I'll be away from the city for a while. Tell Tyrone, won't you? What? No, it has nothing to do with that. Right, because if I was being punished, the first thing I would do is call you to lie about it. Come on, you're smarter than that. Uh huh. Oh, right. Yeah, tell Jacen I'm sorry. I'll catch up to him later. Yeah, sure you two enjoy yourselves. I'll let you know when I get back." He clicks the line closed and walks back to the group.
"Ok, what now?"
Evening descends upon Promise, with all of the Citizens going about their approved business. Some socialize, some read, some exercise. Nearly anything personally productive is allowed, essentially outlawing only sloth. The six members of the ad hoc squad assemble near the northern gate of the city after finishing the business that they needed. The city has but two gates: the southern gate, which leads to the docks where foreigners try their best to trade what few items of value they have for priceless Hermean manufactured goods, and the northern gate, which leads to the only road to the inland. The walls are high to protect interlopers from making it into the city, leaving only one point of entrance from the lesser-protected parts of the island. Patrols check the island for trespassers, but they can't be everywhere at once; the walls act as the final prevention from those who would steal from Promise.
As they approach the gates, they open automatically. The Alkaeus guards that would normally be present are conspicuously absent, likely to keep the classified nature of the mission from being compromised. They walk through the gates - the first time outside the walls of Promise in years for some of them - which close silently behind them. A vehicle awaits them, similar to the ones that brought them all to Promise from the farmsteads in the first place. Unlike the rest of the world, which still relies largely on horses and other riding animals, Hermeans use technological vehicles for travel. The island is only about a hundred-sixty kilometers long and a hundred-forty kilometers wide, with a rough diamond shape; using modern transportation, it doesn't take more than a few hours to travel anywhere on the island.
The vehicle - called an autocarriage - is an extraordinary one. It has seats for a driver and five others, with a sealed compartment to protect them all from the elements. Large powering batteries rest in a cargo area near the back, where their requisitioned gear has been placed for them. The driver's seat has a large electronic display in front of it that shows a glowing map of their destination. No one stands near the autocarriage, leaving it up to them to determine how to use it best.
Large land vehicle
Squares 6 (10' by 15')
AC 9; hardness 10
hp 90; Base Save +2
Maximum Speed 250' per round; Acceleration 50' per round
Attack ram 1d8 per 50' of speed
CMB +2; CMD 12
Propulsion Mechanical
Driving Check Knowledge: Engineering (tech) or Profession (driver)
Driving Device Electronic display
Driving Space Front squares
Decks 1
"Right, then," says Artemios. "Dryth, you're our driver. I'll take the shotgun seat. Everyone else, stow your gear and hop in!"
"Quite right." Dryth said and he moves around the driver's seat. He sits and taps his finger to his lip for a couple seconds. Then the man presses a series of buttons and the vehicle comes to life. "Ah, yes. A kinesoelectric interface. Quite user friendly." He begins tapping the interface, setting up preferences and customizing the interface to suit his needs.
He looks back towards everyone. "Well, gentlemen?
Simeon walks around the vehicle, slowly inspecting it. After his experience with the combi-harvester the other day, he's cautious about machinery. Satisfied that whoever serviced this autocarriage did, in fact, know what they were doing, he gathers his requisitioned gear and nods at Dryth.
"Ready when you are, driver."
As the party walks approaches the gate, Soractus slows his pace slightly, falling back to the rear of the group by a few strides, and then begins to slowly drift towards the walls of the buildings along the street. About 100 yards from the gate itself, he reaches out and begins to brush his hand along the stones, and, when he feels the right one, reaches up to a windowsill just out of sight, and pulls on a leather strap. A small sack falls quietly from the sill, and Soractus continues walking, without breaking his stride, carrying an extra small bag, which he casually loops off of his belt, blending with his various other packs, vials, and miscellaneous gear. Inventorying this will have to wait. I hope they were able to get everything in there.
He's the last to arrive at the Autocarriage, and, after glancing at the two occupied front seats, curses quietly to himself before jumping into the back.
Let's roll.
The autocarriage starts with a touch of Dryth's palm on the display, humming with efficiency and power. Artemios sits in the seat next to the driver, clearly ready to use its field of view as a tactical benefit. Not knowing what they are getting into, safety and caution must come first. The other members of the squad climb into the rear of the compartment, making themselves comfortable for the drive. Simeon and Valarius sit in the second row, while Soractus and Archelaos sit in the farthest row of seats. The interior compartment is quite comfortable, upholstered with a durable textile and complete with a climate-controlled environment. The autocarriage pulls forward with a push of Dryth's hand, easily following his instinctive commands. The great walls of Promise start to shrink behind them as the autocarriage pulls away along the paved roadway. It will be a few hours before they arrive at Torch, according to the display.
Dryth keeps his eyes on the road, though with the machinery it wasn't strictly necessary. The autocarriage could follow the outlined path relatively well as long as no immediate obstacles presented themselves, but an attentive master at the controls would make the ride smoother for everyone.
"So does anyone know anything about the research expedition leader, Khonnir? Or Simeon, have you worked with any of the Themostila researchers? If we know them, it might tell us what they did in an emergency. It sounds like more than just a communications problem. And what do you make of the flames? Perhaps some exotic gas deposit?"
Simeon gives a faint half-smile at the question. "I don't know them, as it happens, but I know what they would do: the same as you or I - the rational thing!"
His smile falls away as he draws the logical conclusion. "So, if it is just a comms problem, they'd work on fixing it; if they couldn't fix it, they'd send someone as a messenger, who would have arrived by now. Conclusion: it's not a communications problem. Or, not merely a comms problem. Something happened. Something interesting, unexpected - enough to make them curious; either enough to make them forget to check in, or to override rational caution."
Themostila has a reputation for curiosity, and loses a few researchers every year when their scientific instincts overcome their common sense. It's rarely pretty. Simeon has done some of the (usually post-mortem) surgery, and heard the stories.
Aware that he's basically predicted deep trouble for the situation they're heading into, he mumbles "Of course, I could be wrong..."
Archelaos is actually enjoying traveling inland through the fields – he likes the nature and the open spaces, and he sort of misses them in Promise. He keeps quiet though: he already feels like the least useful person in the group, and does not want to give the impression he is taking the assignment lightly.
His mood darkens when hypothesis about the nature of their mission start flying around “I agree with Simeon, this feels worse than a communication problem. Inexplicable flames and trained professionals who “disappear” – so to speak – I worry that we will find some sort of accident, or technology malfunction, that trapped these men and women.” he bites his tongue At least I hope they are only trapped. I’d rather not have Torch linked to another disgrace, not after Ephaistion. his heart starts racing as he remembers the terrible moments of his friend’s death.
This time it is not personal, he does not know the people involved, but still… “I think we should establish contact immediately between us and Torch’s center of communication. I worry we’ll need to call in an emergency squad, and I am so used to relying on the whisperlines it will feel weird not having them.”
"I know one of the researchers," said Artemios, his tension obvious by the lack of emotion in his voice. "Althea ex-Diocles. She is an intelligent woman and capable athlete. She would seek shelter and await rescue if she could not find a safe route out."
"Whatever the flames are, I believe they will be connected to one of the many ancient technological devices scattered around Hermea. The researchers may have engaged a safety protocol they were unprepared to handle, which means that the primary expected threat has just expanded from the purely environmental to include the possibility of constructs or even artificial intelligences."
"Archelaos, we are the emergency squad. We have been selected for our unique skills and like true Hermeans, we are going to accomplish this mission ourselves."
"I think we can safely rule out a comms issue. As Simeon said - there's no good reason for them not to send a messenger over something so simple as that. That means that either something has happened that has rendered them unable to communicate with the outside world - and that something must have been serious enough to either imprison or incapacitate them, or something has happened that has rendered them - or those that remain - unwilling to communicate with the outside world."
At this, Soractus clears his throat, not wanting to be misunderstood as paranoid, again.
"Without more thorough background dossiers on the entirety of the research staff, I've no particular reason to believe either is more likely, and we'd best be prepared for both eventualities."
"Which brings us to the Rules of Engagement," said Artemios. "They are simple. We engage at the lowest level of violence consistent with our mission and our survival. Use of lethal force is not authorized until we better understand the situation. In the event that the science team's motives are called into question, lethal force is not authorized except in defense of lives. If possible, we will capture and question any living combatants."
"A technology malfunction would make sense. Even if everything is ok, they could simply be unable to leave." Dryth pauses and then continues. "However, we do need to be prepared for the possibility it is far, far worse. Simeon is right. Themostila loses Citizens every year from dangerous curiosity. It is within the realm of possibility they breeched some protocol or unleashed something they were not able to control. They could all be dead already and the flames out of control."
He shakes his head. "It's not what I want to think about, but we have to consider the possibility, it's implications, and how we would proceed. Otherwise we'll be just as unprepared as they were."
The landscape rolls by them as Dryth drives the autocarriage up the roadway. The island's central mountain and the surrounding hills loom before them, while the sun begins to set to the west. The central road forms a loop around the hilly region, staying mostly on the flatlands. Every several kilometers, they pass a side road - most of which are semi-paved, though some are still dirt or gravel - to the farmsteads that are evenly distributed through the island. They see a few passing autowagons, the large vehicles that transport foodstuffs from the farms to the city, but otherwise don't see anyone. The lack of individuals isn't surprising, as leaving a farmstead or the city requires special dispensation. It is strange to think that the uncivilized rest of the world doesn't do anything to control the movement of its people, encouraging lawlessness and banditry in the resulting chaos. Here, each of the autocarriages and autowagons are protected as they travel from place to place. There are rarely any bandits, as interlopers and trespassers are controlled by Lucarus patrols.
Dryth follows the display's instructions when they arrive at a fork in the roadway, taking the east road. Soon, the shadow of the low central mountain looms over them, blocking the setting sun from view as night begins to close in. They have to marvel at the speed of their travels. It carries them as fast as a galloping horse can, but doesn't tire or slow - and it carries all of them at once, keeping them in relative comfort. It is an extraordinary feat of technology that would be unbelievable elsewhere in the world. They discuss the technological matters that might come up on the mission, with Dryth and Simeon occasionally slipping into very technical discussions.
They eventually seem to have covered the entire briefing, making further tactical or theoretical discussions redundant. They eventually move along to more mundane conversation, getting to know one another. Each explains his own history to the others - or at least a version of it - in an effort to get to know each other. After a few hours in the autocarriage, they even make a few jokes. Despite only having met earlier in the same day (for the most part), they start to feel close. Group cohesion will serve them well in the coming mission, as they will have to trust each other and act as a team.
After close to four hours, Dryth pulls to a stop. They are still a few kilometers away from Torch. They have to come up with a plan - do they simply head in with the autocarriage, try to sneak in on foot, or scout it out before making some decision about how to approach the farmstead? The hill sits in the distance, but they are too far at this point to see the status or any activity - other than that there are no purple flames visible from here, despite the dark and clear night.
"So, what do you think?" Dryth stop the autocarriage for a moment. "I can find a place to park this if you want to scout out the farm. We don't know to what level the events with the researchers have had an effect on the farmstead. Or I can just roll right on in, and we can begin asking some questions."
He looks to Artemios, but then glances at the others in the back.
Artemios looks back at Archelaos. "You're the expert," he says. "What do you think? Just roll in?"
Simeon enjoys the journey, listening to the others and their experience of life in Promise, and the worldviews they have as a result of their own tribes' special expertise.
He has no expertise in tactics, but as a technician, he points out what is obvious to him: "This carriage is our only way out of here. I can manage basic repairs, but I cannot rebuild it if it is wrecked. I do not know if that affects the decision."
Hearing no opinion from Archelaos, Artemios nodded to Simeon and then to Dryth. "Okay. Find someplace out here to park her. Then everyone secure their possessions; we're hiking in. Everyone stretch your legs and we'll move out in fifteen minutes."
Once everyone had enough time to attend to personal matters (and Artemios checked his weapons, ammunition and gear yet again), he led the team on an overland hike into the town.
"Soractus, Valerius, take right and left flank, about twenty meters out. Everyone else, on me. Let's go."
Dryth rolls his eyes. "Of course we choose walking." He sighs and exits the autocarriage, grabbing his small bag.
"What do we say when we run into someone?"
"I'd go with 'hello'," said Artemios. "But maybe that's just me."
"We work for the Powers," he continued more seriously. "If anyone asks, that's what we tell them. This is Hermea and that should be good enough for any resident of the island."
Simeon suppresses a wry smile - he'd been about to say exactly the same thing. Good to know that they are on the same wavelength.
"Probably best to requisition lodging from the first domicile we come across; no reason to go barging through town in the middle of the night; There'll be plenty of time to request a meeting with the local Originean administrator in the morning."
Having said his piece, Soractus fans out to the right, and allows his eyes to adjust to the twilight. Taking advantage of the superior vision provided by his Elven heritage, he doesn't bother wasting a silverdisk on a Flashlight. Besides, if things do go sideways, better to let him strike from the shadows, an unseen flank.
"Oh yes, they will open right up when we requisition lodging. Let's ask them first, shall we? No need to rile everyone up." Dryth switches on a flashlight to guide them in the darkness.
"Oh yes, they will open right up when we requisition lodging. Let's ask them first, shall we? No need to rile everyone up." Dryth switches on a flashlight to guide them in the darkness.
"Is there a difference? They're obliged to say yes, regardless of how polite we are. I'm not advocating being a jerk, but there's no need to be dense about the fact that asking is fundamentally no different from a demand, coming from us, out here.
Besides, if they were to refuse, we'd have another problem on our hands entirely."
Having left the autocarriage a good distance away, they close the distance to the farmstead on foot. With so few bandits or predators on the island, the farmsteads generally lack walls or defenses. Torch is no different. Each of the farmsteads is built to be self-sustaining, with surplus foodstuffs shipped to Promise for consumption by Citizens. The 819 Residents spend most of their time in dignified industry, either in farming or in meeting the needs of the community. From the briefing, the village contains all of the attendant facilities: a stable, a forge, an armory, a quartermaster, cafeterias, dormitories. All of their needs are met in the farmstead, but the level of technology is far closer to Golarion at large than Promise - except for the occasional artifact found on the island from time to time.
Their briefing showed them the layout of the farmstead. As they are approaching from the southwest, they should be able to make a quick route to the research facility, which is nestled in the west side of the central hill. With the night overhead, most of the Residents should be in the dormitories. Only the Origines overseers and a few hand-picked assistant Residents should be awake, as they have to ensure that the others aren't getting into unauthorized trouble. Many of the Residents are less capable of moderating their own actions for the good of the whole, so they require a bit more supervision.
Simeon spots three figures trying to use the darkness to their advantage. The fact that they are so obviously trying to be stealthy prickles the hair on the back of his neck.
If they were wandering around normally he wouldn't be worried, even if they were supposed to be somewhere else (his own recent adventures into unorthodoxy have given him a tolerance for minor rule-breaking, where no one gets hurt).
He discreetly attracts Artemios' attention, showing three fingers and indicating the direction with a slight nod of his head. He also readies to draw his gun, but will not do so unless instructed. Guns have a bad habit of escalating things - oh, and killing people. He fervently hopes never to have to use one for real.
Soractus spots the huddled figures trying to approach in the darkness; seeing that Simeon has put up a silent signal, he opts to try to make himself scarce. Let the others try to parley, since they insist on it. It was time to be prepared for things to go sideways.
He slips out of position, and crouches lower to the ground, slowing his pace and widening his arc so that as the two parties meet, he'll be positioned a few yards behind the poorly hidden locals trying to sneak up. He draws his Sap in one hand, and keeps the other ready on his Revolver.
Dryth continues walking, blind to the signals the others are trying to give. He continues to walk with his flashlight.
"They see us! They're moving to flank!" The cries from the approaching trio alert the squad that they know they've been seen. "They're from Promise, and they're here to take Hellion away from us! Kill them!" They rush forward, close enough to see - and close enough to react to. The three men are dressed in the gray clothing of Residents, though they seem to be wearing light armor in defiance of the norms of the farmstead. Each of them carries a metal composite longbow in hand - one of the earliest weapons almost any Hermean trains with. The strangest thing about the three is the strange markings on their faces and arms; they look like tattoos (themselves not allowed except with the authorization of the Nikephoros), but geometric in nature. All of these things are quite unusual, but their rapid approach and clear violent intent makes it difficult to stop and think on what it might mean.
Soractus moves forward and brandishes his revolver, making no further attempts to hide. "Slow down now, we didn't come here to hurt anybody or take anything. You ought to know full well that raising a weapon against a Citizen of Promise anywhere on the island of Hermea by a resident is a very serious crime. If you drop your weapons now, I'll be sure to report that you were merely out hunting after hours, and didn't have any intent to harm us. A truth that will have been reflected by your actions.
If, however, you don't drop those bows now, I'm afraid to inform you that as an Officer of the law, as designated by Tribe Alkaeus, I will have full authorization to impose the proper and mandatory sentence upon you at this time. You won't like that sentence."
Distracted by walking through the dark, Artemios failed to notice the approach of the three, but seeing Simeon's warning, he unholstered his pistols, keeping them pointed at the ground.
He kept quiet, allowing Soractus to perform his lawful role since his own was only as a leader in battle. He trusted that the Alkaean would remember his stated rules of engagement.
The travel across Hermea had been oddly surreal for Valarius. He had been on multiple missions before, serving the good of his glorious nation, yet one on the island struck him as... strange. As too did the use of common equipment and arms. True, these were the things that he used when venturing to the continent, yet he did not expect to use them here.
As they unloaded from the autocarraige he checked over his gear. After running his finger down the length of its razor sharp blade, he hung the finely honed sword from a scabbard at his left hip. Checking its ammo load, he slid the rifle onto his shoulder next to his pack.
-------
Even from the left flank Valarius spots the small company of skirmishers approaching. As they call out their threats, he unshoulders his rifle and and moves up into the nearest bush, taking cover as he draws aim on the first assailant. He waits calmly for Soractus to play out his role while he draws aim on one of the assailants. Are they are part of great Hermea, or are they fools and that which would seek to harm it? In a moment, they decide their fates...
The three guards end all hopes for a diplomatic solution as the first of their number runs forward and pulls an arrow back. His muscles strain under the power of composite bow. They may not be as technologically advanced as firearms, but they are still capable of being quite dangerous. Artemios points his revolver and shoots a single round at the man right as he shoots the arrow. The bullet and arrow pass one another in midair, both hitting their intended targets. It's hard to tell in the darkness, but the guard jerks and doesn't fall, as if the bullet hit him but missed his vital organs. The arrow grazes Artemios's thigh, leaving a long gash, but doesn't stay embedded in his leg.
The second guard plants his feet and takes a moment to aim at Soractus. He trembles with a bit of fear as he looses the arrow. "Promise is a lie!" It comes very, very close to hitting Soractus - whether he missed because of the darkness, his cover in the bush, or the dread his words inspired. It comes within a few inches of hitting him in the head, but instead flies past and gets tangled in the leaves behind Soractus.
The third and final guard dashes forward towards the nearest bush, aiming on the run as he engages in a side shuffle and heads for cover. He waits until he is at a far better angle, depriving Soractus of the cover from the shrubs, and launches an arrow at him. If he were a few feet closer, he would have most likely hit Soractus with the arrow, but instead misses by a hair's length. "You'll never take Hellion away!" He shouts at them with an unhinged tone common to religious zealots.
Valarius' heart accelerates as Artemios takes his first shot and several arrows fly out in response. He quickly calms his breathing, evening his center of focus. Though he had been educated in the use of firearms like all those of a militant persuasion in Hermea, his focus in the use of blade and spell combined with his long missions on the continent left the weapon feeling slightly unfamiliar in his hands. Despite that, he reverted to his training. inhale... sight target... exhale... adjust aim... pull trigger The hammer strikes the charge, sending the bullet spiraling toward its target where it slams into the Watcher's shoulder.
Dryth runs to the cover of the nearest tree as the air is filled with gunshots and arrows. "Are they really trying to hurt us?! WE'RE FROM PROMISE!" His voice pitches sharply as he yells and ducks from the all the missile fire. He glances towards the men from his cover, seeing shadowy shapes. He readies a spell, still hoping he doesn't have to harm his fellow farmsteaders.
Simeon simply cannot believe what is happening - violence? Against fellow Hermeans? Citizens, no less! This is some sort of joke, right? A sickening thud as the arrow strikes Artemios tells him it is not. With shaking hands and dry mouth, Simeon steps forward, taking cover behind one of the trees. Trying to remember his combat drill, he crouches, draws his revolver and adopts the two-handed firing grip.
He knows what this weapon is capable of, the trauma that it inflicts. He wasn't prepared for this! Not the reality of it! He's a doctor, a healer, a mechanic. Destruction is an alien concept. Enough, he tells himself. He has a job to do for Unity. What did they mean, "Promise is a lie?" Focus!
He aims the revolver, and fires - but his aim is off considerably. Not a surprise given the way his hands are shaking.
"If you're not going to cooperate, than I regret to inform you that the penalty for firing upon Hermean Citizens is death. In the absence of a magistrate, and under circumstances such as these, the formality of a trial is generally dispensed with. What I'm saying here is... "
Rather than finishing his sentence, Soractus rolls out from behind the tree and moves into a more suitable firing position, cursing as he realizes just how exposed it leaves him. Still, he can see that the one in the rear is frightened and confused - much less of a threat than his comrades, and instead seeks to take down the one that just took a shot from the Epaphran's large rifle; a shot from a big gun like that ought to have knocked him on his heels already, and maybe a well placed bullet can take him down and make this situation a little less dangerous...