Just a few screaming and dying foes are picked off with the bolts of Gemma’s crossbow, with the rest of the sea wall eerily quiet. Willem makes his way back to the second story of the lighthouse tower, his vantage point to pick off the enemy en enfilade clearly picked out once they get with one-hundred feet of their makeshift barricades. Anneca stands on the raised front steps in front of the lighthouse, visualizing what the possibilities could be if it came down to them being forced back inside the buildings – though for now their first attempt at doing so was positively laughable.
Map of Defense Areas (color-coded for reference)
Current Strategic Map
The Risuri hunting horn sounds a second time, followed by a rousing cheer from the men that are about to march in the second wave against their loyalist enemies. Once again, flares of magical illumination light the sky overhead, clearly showing Johnathan out there on the sea wall trying to setup his deadly traps. Willem sees the full squad of a dozen men approaching the one-hundred yard distance along the sea wall, though they are too far off at this point to try and fire upon. Below him at the barricades separating the sea wall from the outer grounds of the lighthouse, the barricades are as stacked and secure as they can possibly be made, with Gemma and Ifris standing fast to repel attackers there. Emerson and Anneca also see the second wave approaching through the fog in the distance, but it is all they can do to wait until the enemy gets closer to open fire…
…the only other option being to meet the enemy as they reach their side of the sea wall, though surely that would lead to a bloody fight for both sides of the engagement.
Anneca takes out the scroll of magic missile that she found on the wizard's body, scrambling to get it in place before the soldiers arrive. She carves a sigil into the stone next to the top of the stairs in front of the main lighthouse door, trying her best to remember what she can about the subject from her time at Mitchell. Along with several others, Runes wasn't her best subject. Still, she perseveres. She transfers the magic from the scroll into the sigil, which is a volatile setup that won't last for more than a few minutes. "Don't walk on this," she advises the others. "Just in case." She tries her best to impart her will onto the rune so that one of the other constables doesn't face the brunt of the blast by accident. If they have to retreat to the lighthouse itself, someone will meet an unpleasant and explosive end.
Johnathan can see that his current trap is a lost cause. Not wanting to be totally exposed in the open when another dozen soldiers advance, he makes the wise choice to move back to within the lighthouse, taking up position at one of the second floor windows.
Emerson watches the next squad of men coming over the wall and his mind flashes back to the war. His body tenses with the unexpected flood of emotions this brings but he manages to push them aside and concentrate on the current task at hand. ’Stay alive’ he says to himself while waiting for the enemies to engage.
Gemma knows there is nothing else to do but wait for the time being. It gives her enough time, though, to lower her crossbow and get a bag of marbles out from a side pouch. It's unconventional, yes, but that's what she's been know for and simple marbles work brilliantly on a flat, stone surface in a pinch.
Willems cowboy nods Anneca, "Thank you for the Sigil warnin' Constable Summers!
Ifris looks at Johnathan, "Constable Jackson, can you now trap the exterior barricade to help repel the rebels?"
”…THE QUEEEENNNN!” You’ve all heard it before, and it seems as if the battle cry of the second wave is nearly as tired and predictable as the first. This time however, a full squad of a dozen hardened Risuri rebel soldiers from Second Army’s defecting Shockfall Lancers regiment come across the sea wall in much greater speed and discipline than the first; each man bears shield and an iron crowbar, along with two pairs of men toting hand-held battering rams with metal handles affixed to them. They close the distance rapidly without any of Johnathan’s traps setting off this time, hitting the makeshift barricades in force. Almost immediately men start prying away at the boards and crates with their crowbars, while in the center two men with a shared battering ram smash it into the barricades, sending loose debris showing down on both soldiers and constables on each side of the makeshift wall.
Map of Defense Areas (color-coded for reference)
Current Strategic Map
It is clear the rebel soldiers of Shockfall Lancers are pressing hard to focus on taking down the barrier; though it appears even they may not have enough numbers to overwhelm the constables outright, at least two officers in the back of the squad are waving furiously behind them towards the distant spotter on the far end of the sea wall. ”Send them up! Up UP! NOW!” shouts one officer even as he turns around and sends a stream of acid from his hands into the barricades to melt lashed wood and rope. Another officer sends a stream of light motes overhead to illuminate the entire area, exposing friend and foe alike. Again, the sounds of battle are chaotic and loud, but the constables know this group is much more used to a fight than the last wave.
In the distance of the central keep’s main tower, a single window flares bright green with magical light, as if a spell is being cast. Eventually the verdant light fades.
As bullets fly above her head at the advancing enemies, Anneca tries to replicate her success at stalling the attack. She shouts over the barricade at the soldiers. "Your comrades survived forty-seven seconds after making contact! Look around you. Not one of them made it past the barricades, much less close to the lighthouse! What's more, you'll never be able to undo the damage that I did to the mechanism, not unless you brought an expert on construction with you! Turn back now and you might have enough time to make it out of the city before the King comes to capture every single one of you traitors!" This time, her words don't seem to have much of an effect. The soldiers have seen battle and are less phased by the idea of a futile attack. Anneca snarls in frustration at their seeming ability to ignore her and vows to kill every last one of them.
Feeling something akin to a third wheel, Tobias collects his things and makes polite excuses for leaving the conversation, promising to see everyone around the office when he can make them time.
The first stop is the apartment. He hadn't quite taught Chip the R.H.C. mission code, but he'd used it to devise something similar and he left a note with a few symbols and scratches on the table in the dining room indicating that he would be gone for a while and to send out his will if he hadn't been seen in a couple weeks. It was routine at this point, and neither had stopped to consider death as a real possibility in a long time now.
He then leaves to go eat, frowning as he realizes he can't go to his favorite place. He'd made plans with Jeremy (friend and local scribe) but the halfling could always smell when something juicy was happening. Tobias, despite his cunning, had never successfully lied to the scribe and he wasn't about to spend his last couple hours of relaxation attempting to. Having been unable to make their meetings a time or two in the past due to work, and he knew Jeremy wouldn't think anything of it.
All in all, it was an extremely uneventful afternoon considering the morning events.
Tobias gets to the Cloverdelve Circle with about ten minutes to spare, finishing an entirely unsatisfying sandwich as he arrives. He looks around for either of his colleagues or whoever it is he needs to report to.
Johnathan Jackson
Johnathan opens fire with his crossbow as the soldiers run to the barricade. He keeps ducking outside of the window at random intervals to make it harder for the rebels to return fire. With great satisfaction he manages to take down one of the men with the battering ram, slowing their work to reach them.
Emerson sends out his elemental again to attack the enemy with similar results. The stout creature glides over and pummels one of the soldiers to death upon the barricade surprising even these hardened troops.
Gemma sees the men with the battering ram and takes aim. She manages to neck one of the other men that Jonathan didn't hit.
"You're going to have to draw straws to see who continues forward," she yells out. "Anyone that picks up that battering ram will be dead long before you ever breach this lighthouse!"
On the dark second floor of the lighthouse, Willem aims in on the officer that cast the stream of acid and fires! "BOOM!" Willem then quickly changes location without seeing if the round hit its mark which he is confident that it did but he needs to throw off the enemy and not be present for any focused reprisal attack.
"OH WHAT WE HAVE HERE IS A BUNCH OF RABBLE WILLING TO DIE FOR A TRAITOR SO THEY CAN DIE DISHONORABLY AS TRAITORS. YOU KNOW, THERE IS A SPECIAL PLACE IN THE UNDERWORLD FOR TRAITORS. AND WE ARE GOING TO SEND YOU THERE!"
Ifris stabs through any opening in the barricade that will allow her sword to sink in deep to any rebel close enough and alive to eat her blade.
The fighting is fierce as constables and soldiers fire on one another, even as wounded fall around them. The men of Shockfall Lancers make quick work of the makeshift barricades; even as a sergeant and footman fall with their battering ram, another sergeant utters a battle cry and comes in with a second one, smashing the remainder of the wooden walls down. Yet sniper fire from the second-story lighthouse tower takes down their rebel wizard officer, with men dying from the hammer fists of Emerson’s stout assistant. Chunks of stone are torn off the elemental from return blows by two of the soldiers, while a hurled spear and club from the other officer breaches Ifris’ amber-colored psychic armor and wounds her in the shoulder.
Map of Defense Areas (color-coded for reference)
Current Strategic Map
The rebel soldiers of Shockfall Lancers have succeeded in taking down the barrier, with urgent whistles being sounded from both their surviving officer as well as the spotter on the far end of the seawall. With more commotion being heard just beyond the far tower, it is only a matter of time before a third wave is sent to support the second and sweep the constables from their defensive positions. Though the weakened squad is totally exposed now they carry on the fight, dropping crowbars and drawing swords to engage with their bitter foes, the intensity of the fight reaching a faster pace.
Out upon the ocean, a rolling tide of fog seems to be moving rapidly towards the island’s coastline and the fortress harbor. Up in the central tower of the inner keep, another flare of greenish illumination is seen; strangely the constables feel a steady breeze now blowing towards them from the town’s center, though it doesn’t seem as if the wind is that strong or will hamper them in any way.
The past few hours have gone by in a blur. Before leaving the Quartermaster’s office Fethryth invited her mentor out to lunch. The duo left the Constabulary together and made a quick stop at Fethryth’s place; a rented room in an all women’s boarding house. That someone had obviously come in and searched her belongings didn’t come as a shock to either Constable, but it did lead to a spirited conversation about the rights of an individual versus national security all the way from the boarding house to the restaurant.
The Gilded Chateau is one of the nicer Tea Rooms in Slate. Nice enough that the pair would likely have been tossed out based on their attire if not for the R.H.C badges pinned to their shirts. For the first time since Corporal Samson woke her up this morning she starts to relax. Soon she’ll be on the most important mission of her life, but now she gets to stuff food in her face and talk to one of the few people she trusts completely.
The subject of her new assignment never comes up; Vera’s an experienced Constable and she knows not to ask for information Fethryth doesn’t volunteer. Instead the two talk about simpler things, like how Vera’s grandchildren are doing in school and what Fethryth thinks of the last book she picked up from the library.
Fethryth leaves the tea room with more than enough time to spare. She gets to the Circle a good twenty minutes early. Seeing neither of her teammates she sits down, leans against a crate and works to clear her mind. Today has been a heck of a day and she doesn’t want any mental ‘baggage’ clouding her mind. She meditates until the sound of Tobias’ footsteps jars her out of her trance.
”Hey Tobias. Ready for our grand adventure?”
As soon as the bard arrives Fethryth makes a beeline for Jesselle. ”Hey, I have a favor to ask. Could you hold on to this?” She pulls a wand out of her belt and hands it to Jesselle. ”I bought this a while back from one of the R&D guys. The spell it casts, he called it Mage Armor. It makes this invisible shield around you, which is great for me because armor slows me down and messes with my magic. I don’t like getting shot in the face so I carry this keep that from happening, but it’s not my brand of magic so I have a hard time getting the damn thing to cast properly. End up shouting and waving it around for a couple minutes most of the time. What I’m thinking is, you have the right kind of magic for this thing. Could you hang on to it and just pop the spell on me whenever I need it?”
After getting equipment from the Quartermaster Jesselle watched as Tobias and Fethryth departed for other parts within Slate. While the young woman was tempted to go out into the city she thought better then to tempt fate that someone might recognize her alias. That would not be a good thing.
Jeselle, with a little help, found the mailing room and dropped of a small bundle of letters that she had written to her brother Jonah, Aunt Vera, Jada, and master Alantree.
After dropping off her letters she wondered the Slate Branch of the Royal Homeland Constabulary. There were many whispers and looks but she continued on putting together an internal map of the place.
After an hour or so she had a carriage take her to the Cloverdale Circle.
As Fethryth arrives and hands her a wand ane tries to explain it's use
"While the wand is of arcane magic, and yes I do use arcane magic, I do not know the spell you describe. There are many bards who can also use devices of powers they cannot wield through sheer will, unfortunately I have not learned this ability. I am sorry, but I cannot use this device for you," she says apologetically to her elven colleague handing the wand back to her.
Johnathan runs up to the roof of the lighthouse. He felt like the last bit of returning fire was a little too close for comfort and that he might be making a pattern for himself without knowing. Looking out over the low wall he has a much better angle of attack now and draws an aim at the remaining sergeant. He’s currently yelling some expletive at the others but his well placed shot strikes him at the collar and he goes down in mid sentence.
Emerson uses his baton to fight off the blows from the remaining soldiers but only to keep them from advancing. He uses his mental command of the elemental to coordinate another attack against the soldier nearest the gas lamp. The injured elemental slams the man against the light post multiple times until he stops moving.
"About as ready as I can be!" Tobias smiles, happy to see he's not the only one excited to get going.
He listens curiously as Feth produces the wand and interjects when it's handed back to the elven woman.
"I'm fairly competent at using magical items. Constable Lewing taught me a number of reliable techniques when he mentored me. If you'd like I can hold onto it until we join with him and the rest of the Resilience. At which point I'm sure he'd be more than willing to cast it for you himself."
Gemma knows there's not much time and not many men left. She draws her sabre and makes a vow to take out as many as she can before she and the other constables have to retreat into the lighthouse. She takes a swipe at the nearest rebel. It's not a great cut, but it's good enough to spill more traitor blood.
Anneca grimaces as they smash down the barricade, even as the enemy takes significant losses doing so. She fires off several shots from her pistol at them, hoping that volume will beat what she lacks in accuracy. "Time to get back there and hold the door! The Navy will be through the gates in a few minutes!" She dodges her trap as she makes her way back through the door, squeezing through the makeshift secondary barricade. She looks up at the stairs, doing the math in her head about how the boiling liquid will fall when she jury-rigs a trap with the oil.
Ifris cuts down any of the remaining rebels and then shouts, "Withdraw to the lighthouse, we are exposed and we can further fortify the light house! We have better chances of survival in there than out here! There is nothing to slow the next wave of attacks!"
Willem takes aim on any of the remaining rebels and fires. He first focuses on any officers and senior enlisted still alive to bring chaos to what remains of this wave of the Shockfall Lancers. Before changing positions in the lighthouse shadows, he shouts out, "Y'ALL GET YER ARSES IN HERE. THEY ARE ALREADY REPORTIN' TO THE REAR TO CHARGE AFTER SEEIN' THE BARRICADE FALL!"
To live in the capital city of Slate is to know the “Delve” as it is commonly called. The Great Delve River, with its steep banks turning it almost into a man-made channel, generally separates the city into the noble and elite districts of the west and north, and the more common districts of the east and south. At its heart in the central-northern portion of the capital, six antique castles sit along the inside of a wide bend on the river’s western bank, arranged in a pattern originally designed to defend against invasion. Today, these castles act as nexuses of communities of elite gated villas and large columned mansions called the Starglade District; here live the nobles descended from the many kings and queens Risur has had throughout history. Today the Starglade resembles an overly-manicured flower garden, more pretty than practical. South of the Starglade District across a man-made series of canals lies the Erudite Way, home to Mitchell University and much of the magisterial and scholarly elites of Slate – including the Griffon’s Last Roost where they encountered the Noses that very morning.
South of the Erudite Way the Delve makes an easterly turn, with Southshore District forming a broad crescent along the city’s southern rim, a commoner’s district but not for the impoverished and with a rather lively entertainment area to it. Generally speaking, the poorest laborers and servants not living on the outskirts live and toil in the Lowland District on the older eastern banks of the Delve, its streets and houses more densely packed together as it creeps up northwards to the broad grassy hill of the mighty Torfield Palace. Torfield is symbolic of the monarchy of Risur that the king lives with the common people, and only once he steps down or dies does his family move to the west bank mansions of the Starglade. The Torfield District also includes the heart of the government’s administrative buildings and offices, with its largest bridge over the Delve linking the Torfield District on the eastern bank with the Erudite Way on the western bank. North of Torfield District lies the Grand Weft, a massive public square where three highways intersect and comprises the heart of the city’s businesses and commercial markets. Marking Slate’s northern rim is Banhaman Academy, Slate’s foremost martial school, straddling the Great Delve River along with the military barracks and garrisons of First Army; this includes a small base of river warships that protect the city, even though it has not been attacked in over five-hundred years. The R.H.C. Slate Branch fortress compound sits equidistant between the Banhaman Academy and the First Army Garrison just north of the Grand Weft…and it is also here that the Cloverdelve Circle can be found.
The Cloverdelve is considered a wonder of Risuri magical might and prowess and the first of its kind, even though other cities and lands have copied its design for their own purposes in recent centuries. Housed in an dome-enclosed sunken amphitheater that has no seats or benches for an audience, the great circle is carved into solid stone, its grooves elaborately etched with Risuri arcane runes and Skyseer invocations of the Heavens, inlaid with precious metals of once-molten silver and pure iron in complex patterns that stretch out from the circle in swirls and spokes that both intensify and channel the use of magic there. Yet even these arcane runes and thaumaturgic symbols pale in comparison to the wide canals of once-molten gold that “nearly” encircle the great circle – “nearly” so because the canals of gold are broken in precise sections where the wide canals are empty and lack gold altogether. Fine golden engravings fan out from the circle into the walls of the amphitheater and even beyond its dome; almost like delicate root tendrils from a mighty oak the golden threads embedded in the rock seem to flow out towards the city surrounding it.
Though the constables have never had the privilege to use the Cloverdelve before, they know something of its history and purpose. Quite simply, the Cloverdelve controls any arcane teleportation magic within the confines of the inner heart of Slate, forcing any attempts at teleportation to occur here as opposed to elsewhere, irresistibly drawn to the circle over nearly any other locale like a moth to the flame. With the golden channels fully blocked and completed, teleportation to the inner portions of Slate would be nigh impossible, but mostly the channels are kept open so as to force magical transportation to the circle itself. There, a battalion of Risuri Army wizards and elite soldiers ensure no enemies come to Slate City unopposed, their prowess supplemented by a wide array of magical wards and traps that could be triggered to wipe out any small invasion force using such magics. It is no secret that the Cloverdelve was designed initially to help protect the king from machinations of the Unseen Court and the archfey that would routinely use their own feystep magics to cause havoc amongst the king’s mortal subjects. Later on, the Dragon Tyrants of old Ber were denied any surprise attacks that could spell the end of Slate’s sleeping population in a single night of fiery destruction. More recently it safeguarded against Danoran trickery during the Yerasol Wars, though to be fair the Danorans rarely had the expertise or confidence to use such magic, given the nullification of such arcane magic in their homeland.
The constables know better than most that magical teleportation is exceedingly rare and powerful, relegated only to those few wizards, sorcerers and skyseer druids that have reached their respective ranks of mastery. As such only dignitaries and noted elites of the nations and independent city-states could be expected to arrive and depart from the Cloverdelve, the rest being reserved for Risuri military and R.H.C. use only. Whether by foot or by R.H.C. carriage, the three constables each arrive in their own time before the appointed hour, passing through the various military checkpoints with ease, their arrival already known and expected by the soldiers.
It is perhaps disconcerting to Fethryth, Tobias and Jesselle that the majestic Cloverdelve Circle is currently marred on its stone floor by a swath of blood that originates from its center and trails outside the engravings and channels of silver and iron – as if a badly wounded or dying man had just been hauled away after arriving there, the wet blood still present to remind them all that an active series of battles were taking place even now in Shale City to the west. Already two footmen with tabards of First Army run forward into the circle with mops and water buckets, but even as they attempt to erase the signs of bloody violence the trio spies out Assistant Director Lauryn Cyneburg approaching them from a single-story blockhouse embedded into the amphitheater just beyond the outermost ring of thaumaturgic runes. Next to her strides a much larger man and member of her Special Inspectorate team, the accented man known only to them as Guy.
”On time I see? That’s at least something from you lot. I trust you’re done receiving gushing praise from the Director and ready to get back to work then?” Assistant Director Cyneburg states her acerbic words in a matter-of-fact tone that assumes a judgment of them as preening popinjays. Guy, however, seems to find it amusing and gives each of them a slight encouraging nod.
The fighting soldiers of Shockfall Lancers take it to the constables as they push past the remnants of the barricades they erected, blades and shields bloodied. With both Anneca and Ifris conducting a fighting retreat to the lighthouse itself and Willem shouting for them to do so from above, in the confusion both Gemma and Emerson get caught up in the swirl of melee outside. Perhaps because of his deva’s luck Emerson is able to block swipes at his body with his baton, but Gemma receives several slashes to her legs and shoulder even as she cuts down those trying to get past her. The stout assistant continues to draw the rebel’s wrath, losing one of its stony arms and nearly being smashed apart by the grizzled sergeant before Johnathan’s arrow takes him down in the neck. One footman attempts to rush up with his sword drawn and engage Anneca before she can reach the safety of the lighthouse interior, only to foolishly trigger her ward trap that she has set on the landing; he stares stupidly at a sizzling hole deep into his chest before he drops his blade and pitches over the platform to the ground below. Even so, Anneca feels pain in her side as a hurled spear grazes her after she makes it through the doorway. This time Ifris and her amber armor is not breached by sword or spear, and the surviving officer who attempts to lash her with his Old Faith magic is cut down by Willem’s withering fire before he can do so.
As rapidly as it started, the fight with the squad of men is now over, the dead sprawled out across the area outside of the lighthouse. With the shouting and illumination of more men forming up on the far end of the seawall in the foggy distance the constables are just about to coordinate their next actions…
…when the winds pick up and they all hear a shattering of glass on the topmost level of the lighthouse where the beacon light illuminates the nighttime sky, followed by a second sound of glass windows being broken from the same topmost level. The wind is not close to being strong enough to do such a thing, suggesting something else has just breached the glass...
Jesselle looks out over the stone floor and runes carved into the surface. As much as she was taken with the magics of Liam and Mab this is a place that the young archivist could pour over for hours. Amazingly though the brief but meticulous gaze gleans many of its secrets to Jesselle. She becomes lost in the pure nature of the place and seems not to hear the Assistant Director at all.
It is only after one of her companions shakes her back to the here and now that Jesselle takes stock of the company she is within and with considerable effort returns her attention to the half-elven woman before her.
With a respectful nod she greets Assistant Director Cyneburg, "Assistant Director." While she missed the woman's initial words to take any office she quickly picks up on her icy demeanor.
Jesselle also catches Guy's slight nod which is enough to keep her in a good mood rather than be brought down by the dourness of Assistant Director Cyneburg.
Between his attendance at the academy and his years of work at the R.H.C. Tobias had seen the Cloverdelve Circle many times, either in passing or some training or other. It never ceased to impress him though. A lot of work was put into place, and the idea that the circle alone must have thwarted countless attempts to destroy the city was not lost on him, particularly now with the blood being cleaned not so far away.
"On time and ready for assignment Assistant Director." Tobias replied, adopting a professional attitude now that one of his superiors was around. He tapped Jesselle quickly on the shoulder upon Cyneburg's arrival, having noticed that his colleague seemed lost in thought.
"Unless of course there's anything else we need to know before leaving." He adds, returning the nod to Guy.
He didn't want to seem to eager after all. Or maybe he did? Who knew? It wasn't easy to interpret what got you on Cyneburg's good side, or even if she had one, but it wouldn't stop him trying.
Time seems to slow down for the constables when they hear the shattering of glass in the top story of the lighthouse. For Gemma and Emerson, they cannot help but look up from their vantage point at the destruction of the glass window panes on their side of the tower. They see a small winged creature that is not like the tiny dragon they briefly fought before; this creature seems to be a winged diminutive female less than a foot tall, hovering in the air just outside of the tower as if in observation, about ten feet in front of them but a full fifty feet up.
For Anneca, Willem and Ifris, they hear the sounds coming from upstairs but of course see nothing unusual, other than the downed second wave outside and the distant sounds of a third battle squad forming beyond the sea wall.
For Johnathan, however, he clearly sees two foes coming into the top level of the lighthouse where the glass was shattered; one woman lands nimbly and lightly upon her feet nearest to him, while a small red-scaled tiny dragon swoops in from the other break to join her. Johnathan doesn’t recognize her appearance, though by her ears and the brief azure glowing of her eyes as she lands he thinks she is a rare female eladrin…which from the mission briefing would likely make her Ethelyn’s handmaiden, Sorkana Dell. Both the eladrin and pseudodragon peer around their surroundings intently, clearly ready for battle.
Fethryth quickly passes her wand to Tobias. ”That would be lovely, thank you.” Any further conversation is cut short by the guards motioning for the trio to enter the Circle
The Circle itself is awe inspiring; Fethryth has to make a conscious effort to not gape at the walls in astonishment. She turns in a circle as she takes in the full majesty of the place, but then stops short once she notices the bloodstains on the floor. Was one of the traitors insane enough to try teleporting into the city? They must have known it was a suicide mission, so why the attempt?
It bothers her enough that she cautiously asks the assistant director about it. ”M’am? May I ask about the bloody floor? Are the deserters trying to infiltrate the city? It seems….illogical.” Asking Cyneburg questions is like dancing up to an alligator, poking it with a stick and waiting to see if it turned on you. But something about this attempt is really bothering her.
It doesn’t take Johnathan long to figure out who this woman is. The descriptions from this fellow constables were quite detailed. He understands the lethality of his new adversary and that he may not survive the next few moments. Without a word he closes the distance toward her and swings with all his might. The hammer strikes her in the midsection but she manages to roll with the blow. ”Ma’m.” is all he says to her.
He does yell to the others however. "Everyone! Get your asses up here! We've got a problem on the roof!
Gemma looks to the top of the tower at the same time as Emerson, seeing what he sees. The glass blown out from the top windows is worrisome but the small, winged figure bothers her far more. To her, all fey are bad...all. There is no discrimition. As far as she's concerned, if they all disappeared from the world, it would bring a smile to her face the likes no one has ever seen. And if she had a hand in it, all the better.
There is a part of her that understands there are good fey and bad and that many of her feelings are irrational, but hatred always overrides that.
Her reaction to the sight of the winged woman is instant and instinctual. She stance immediately becomes defensive, a stance Emerson has seen many times. Men that are battle-hardened will plant their feet a certain way and round over their shoulders a bit, protecting their vital organs, digging in, weapons or fists at the ready. It seems like an odd reaction from the girl. But what really catches his attention is that it seems far more like muscle memory than something trained. And did she actually hiss and bare her teeth?!? The flash of a moment is gone and Gemma seems to quickly regain her senses, pulling a vial from her pocket and drinking it.
She then looks to Emerson after smashing the empty vial on the ground. "We need to move...NOW!"
Willem hears the commotion upstairs but since he does not know what the problem is, he is going to take it slow and careful until the rest of the team arrives. With his double-barrel musket ready, he moves stealthily up the stairs, ready to shoot anything that comes downstairs or bumps into him.
Ifris yells to those still outside, "HUSTLE UP YOU ALL, GO HELP CONSTABLES JACKSON AND MUHNEE UPSTAIRS! I WILL SECURE THE DOOR ONCE YOU GET IN!"
After the rest of the party moves into the lighthouse, Ifris will secure the Lighthouse Barricade and Door.
Assistant Director Cyneburg looks at Fethryth incredulously, replying, ”They infiltrate us here? In this place? Not even Ethelyn would be so stupid as to try that.” Her scowl and shake of her head clearly suggests that answer is firmly in the negative, and she points to the bloody swath explaining, ”The outcome of an eager lieutenant who tried to hold a portion of Shale’s outer walls after it had been temporarily breached today by the sappers, with nothing but a half-strength platoon. Obviously they failed. I had capacity to spare and brought back a handful of the wounded in the past hour, though I expect the lieutenant will not make it. Such is the cost of war.”
Her nose wrinkles in distaste, but she seems to have no emotion or concern for it otherwise. Instead she looks over to Tobias to answer his question. ”Nothing you need to know from the Special Inspectorate at this point – Guy was just briefing me on the outcome of this morning’s priority mission you were assigned to…satisfactorily concluded it seems. Good. I am eager to see that nonsense with Hopkins has been taken care of. Guy, you may return to the others and relate to them my next instructions.”
”Yes, mum.” Guy salutes her and then nods respectfully to Tobias first, then Jesselle and finally Fethryth. ”Constables. Good luck and good hunting.” With that Special-Inspector Guy leaves them to head out of the Cloverdelve amphitheater.
Lauryn Cyneburg is legendary amongst the R.H.C., both for her years in service as well as her magical prowess which very likely makes her the most powerful Risuri arcane practitioner aside from Principal Minister Lee himself. At this moment, however, she simply appears tired and even more irritable than usual; the dust upon her dark grey uniform jacket and some of her hair out of place suggests she was recently “in the field” at the siege of Shale City. She watches Guy go for a moment, ignoring the three constables as she seems to be considering something in her mind, then shakes her head and returns her discomforting gaze back to the three of them.
”Captain Allister of the Gryphon knows he was to expect at least one of our ranks this day, and Guy has already informed him by way of a sending to expect the three of you by the appointed hour of three o’ clock. The Gryphon either does not have sending scrolls…or a capable arcane war wizard to reply to our missive, but we can afford no more time to it. The Gryphon’s enchanted figurehead above the prow I have committed to memory, and so I shall teleport you to the forecastle deck as soon as you take your positions. Ready yourselves.”
Without so much as a goodbye and merely waving her hand irritably to step into the massive teleportation circle across a band of intricate silver and iron engraved runes, the constables do as they are told, checking final gear straps and cloaks. The Assistant Director withdraws a small vial of what appears to be amber dust, pinching a tiny amount between her thumb and forefinger, returning the vial to her pouch and closing her eyes momentarily to visualize her incantation. ”Get it done, constables. Good hunting.” Nodding but without waiting for their reply, she utters three multi-syllabic arcane words in a staccato fashion and releases the amber dust at their feet, stepping back herself from the edge of the circle even though she holds you in her intense gaze.
Almost instantly the Cloverdelve Circle flares with bright silvery light from across the entire rim of the circle, a chime-like sound echoing across the entire domed amphitheater. The light intensifies and seems to ripple like a wave across the circle towards the trio of constables with impossible speed. Then it hits them: instantly the three feel imbued by the powerful arcane illumination, feeling it infuse them and become a part of them somehow…or do they become part of the light itself? Fleeting questions filter through their minds as they then feel like they are falling through the floor of the great teleportation circle, followed by a sensation of being whisked away to their left – almost as if they were specks of dust being swept vigorously away by a great straw broom. Then they are gone.
~BOOM!~ … ~Boom~ –
The three constables hear the sounds first, even as their bodies grow heavy and their feel land upon the pitching deck. Almost instantly all three of them are pitched to their sides and fall to the wooden deck in an unceremonious heap; Jesselle herself finds herself rolling or sliding to her left towards the blue colors of sky and ocean, mercifully stopped by a something solid and heavy which prevents her from being pitched over the side of the ship. Only a moment later does she realize the “something” is a dead naval marine with large pieces of wooden shrapnel all throughout him alongside a tangle of rope and wooden railing.
Tobias is nearly deafened by the sounds of another cannon going off just feet from where he lies on the foredeck, a gun crew shouting and furiously trying to reload one of two forward-facing guns even as the ship’s prow bobs up and down from the force of the waves. Fethryth finds herself face down and looking back at the jagged remains of the rear portion of the forecastle deck, the starboard-side stairs down to the main deck now a gaping hole of twisted wood and some metal. She can see that one of the three main masts of the Gryphon is heavily damaged by cannon shot at its base, with a cluster of sailors furiously trying to reinforce it with more wood and makeshift metal braces. The main deck is a veritable mess of wood and bodies and dangling ropes, with thirteen gun crews to each side working in their own miniature worlds to reload and ready for the next volley when their gun officers give the order to fire.
Jesselle, Fethryth and Tobias have made it to the R.N.S. Gryphon, only to find they are in the midst of a naval gun duel with an enemy rebel ship just ahead and to their starboard.
”Oh $%&@! Captain! CAPTAIN ALLISTER ser! CONSTABLES ON THE FORECASTLE! THREE OF ‘EM!”
A single bearded older officer missing his hat looks down from the wheelhouse foredeck above them, pointing and shouting to someone they cannot see from their vantage point. A single usable stairwell with some cover and reinforcement seems to run from their shattered forecastle deck upwards to that level, made more treacherous by cannon shot that has wiped out a nearby railing and part of the deck flooring to some dark holding area below. Aside from the three constables and what appears to be a single gun crew of three men as well as two surviving wounded marine snipers with muskets giving fire, no one else is alive to help them on the forecastle deck.
”HEY! HEY YOU THREE! GET YOU’RE A$$@#! UP HERE ON THE DOUBLE-QUICK!” The bearded officer leans over from his vantage point to yell at Tobias, Fethryth and Jesselle and waves them with an urgent motion to get up and moving…
…yet when they finally do so and start making their way to the reinforced stairwell, another man from far up in the riggings of the foremast shouts, ”INNNCOMINGGGG!”. They can hear the double ~Boom!~Boom!~ from cannons not on their own ship, followed by a rushing-yet-screeching sound that is not naturally occurring; the enemy’s cannon fire hits the foremast and just past the forecastle deck, sending chunks of wood and parts of men across them, the screams of dying men with the shouts of men cursing at their foes or issuing orders.
"What the hell?" Tobias yells over the sound of the gunshot in his ear as he collides with the deck. His instincts take over quickly as he surveys the area and realizes the true reason behind the Gryphon's lack of response to the earlier sendings.
Seeing that his fellow Constables have made it, relatively unscathed, through the unceremonious landing he shouts his acknowledgment to the bearded man only to be drowned out by enemy canon fire. Bits of shrapnel pierce his skin and clothing in a dozen places, but the cuts are shallow and he barely acknowledges them as he runs his way toward the stairwell and relative safety from the mayhem around him.
Despite the strange movement of the deck below his feet, he just barely keeps his footing and pushes himself successfully up the stairs and to the wheelhouse above, turning to see who made it with him once his mad dash is over.
"Jesselle! Fethryth! Are you both alright?" He shouts over the din of naval combat.
As Jesselle briefly looks at the dead sailor as pushes herself upward. The shouts for the trio to get up companions to get up to them she pushes herself up off of the wood stairs towards that voice.
With the warning of the shots and the enemy ship's cannons firing time seemed to slow for the young woman. Her moment seemed to take effort and would just not happen fast enough. As the ship was struck and debris scattered everywhere she rolled for cover of any kind. Her efforts unfortunately did little to shield her from the flying debris that shredded her clothing leaving small marks of red where it pierced the hide shirt she wore.
She made for the stairs despite the wounds and happened to slip of the slick and broken deck before reaching them
”*$(%*@( hell!” Fethryth swears as she pushes herself up from the deck. She makes it all of three steps before the lookout shouts his warning.
Years of fighting have sharpened her reflexes; she throws herself behind a barrel and avoids the flying debris. The moment the barrage stops she's on her feet and running for the stairs.
The decks are slippery and covered in debris; she doesn't run up the stairs so much as she trips and fumbles her way up. Her momentum propels her up next to Tobias. ”Utegg! Now would be an excellent time to use that wand!”
Seeing that Jeselle's fallen she bellows "Get close and we can pull you up!"
Sorkana Dell snarls in pain and surprise at the assault to her body, clutching her lower stomach while shuffling back towards the broken glass windows where she just came in from. She wears a shimmering grey cloak patterned with elaborate silver thread embroidery, and bears a fine honey leather belt with three potions and two scrolls securely fastened for easy reach, as well as a silver-hilted dagger. Glaring imperiously at her assailant, she glances quickly to her left and says, ”Drau! Dral fo drido orlav fonno Mellora, Sliv O lum pof fon fin!”
With that she extends her left hand and conducts a rapid series of arcane words to produce a fiery blast directly outwards from her palm at Johnathan, threatening to consume him in fire. Yet he twists aside at the last possible moment, her fiery ray missing him and blasting out glass panes on the far side of the lighthouse. Snarling in frustration she quickly withdraws a potion from her belt in her right hand as she crouches in a defensive posture.
Willem sneaks up the stairwell enough to see the same “handmaiden” of the traitorous Duchess enact a fiery ray upon Johnathan – the same ray she used upon Willem himself to nearly kill him on the stairwell of the Coaltongue. Between him and her is another tiny red-scaled dragon the size of a small housecat, hissing at Johnathan and preparing to swoop over to lash at him with a barbed tail.
Before Willem can act, however, something he can neither see nor hear runs right into the front of him on the stairs! There is a moment of hesitation, followed by an angry snarl and the exhale of breath, but still there is nothing to be seen but the battle unfolding just above and ahead of him.
”Sigio! Sorkana!” The shrill voice of the diminutive fey woman has a note of urgency to it as she hurriedly flies around the front of the lighthouse some 40’ up from the platform, hovering just over where the seawall plunges down to the frothy ocean waves below. She bears a tiny bow in her hand, which given the heavy glass panes that lie between she and Johnathan would be laughable to use. In fact she does not use them, but holds her bow aloft with one tiny hand while pointing the other at the former naval marine.
”Hey you, brutish human! Feast on this!”
With that she casts forth a dizzying array of colors in a stream towards Johnathan, the patterned spell having no trouble affecting him through the glass. Though he was adept at dodging Sorkana's ray just a moment before, he is taken squarely in the face at the wide-ranging pattern of colors, and drops like a stone where he stands, the pole hammer falling with a clatter to the floor by his side.
For Jesselle Wesmere, the experiencing is a harrowing one. None of her training or field duty to-date in the R.H.C. has prepared her for the chaotic violence which swirls around her. The enemy rebel ship they seem to be chasing apparently has sniper-archers up in their own masts, as several arrows are fired in a long arc to come down onto the forecastle deck; the forward gun crew is well-sheltered from them by virtue of being behind their cannons and the majestic Gryphon figurehead that is the ship's namesake, but Jesselle feels dreadfully exposed. Two arrows sail wide and miss their mark on deck, though one arrow lands with a ~THUNK!~ onto the deck's planking just a yard from her chest. Eventually she is able to get herself up and moving again, stumbling forward to where Fethryth and Tobias grab hold of her and haul her up the stairwell to the wheelhouse.
The wheelhouse foredeck of the Gryphon is both sheltered from above and to each side and reinforced with iron plates in some sections - a rather recent development to the sailing ships of the Risuri Navy. As soon as the constables arrive to the wheelhouse the grizzled officer who shouted at them earlier releases a level which clangs shut several iron shutters along the front-facing viewports, lessening their view but also lessening the chances of a lucky shot taking out the command. Long brass tubes flow down from one side of this deck to various critical areas of the ship, aiding in communication. Within the wheelhouse are three tough-looking naval marines with muskets and boarding axes at the ready, along with four other standing naval officers and four sailor regulars seated at tables and panels for the ship's communications and navigation. Aside from the narrow stairwell from the forecastle they arrived through, a broader door and stairs is open from the backside of the deck, with several runners coming and going to report damage from the main deck directly to one of the senior officers.
Captain Allister stands there, tall and lanky with a clean-shaven face and a hawkish nose, lowering a spyglass and ordering the most junior officer at the wheel to keep his turn hard to starboard to stay on the chase. He coolly regards the three constables as they approach both he and the other grizzled officer that spoke to them, though he nods respectfully. "Not a good time to arrive, constables. My apologies, but I assumed you lot would have scryed us before coming...I tried to send word to your Director Cyneburg with our last sending scroll, but my best skyseer navigator is on loan to the Dauntless and his replacement soured the attempt in his haste like a sorry jack@#$...anyways..." He looks critically at both Jesselle and Tobias with blood staining their uniforms. "Unless you're bad off I can't spare healing for you right now - I have a lot of men down and the action is only going to get bloodier when I board that son of a &$%#! and take her. You're welcome to stay here with me though and wait it out, as long as you don't get in the way of things."
Captain Allister then promptly returns to his observations of the enemy ship they are pursuing, leaving the three of them to stand aside by the only wall that doesn't have doors, men or tables and panels getting in the way. The grizzled officer who yelled at them earlier whispers something to the captain in acknowledgement and then steps over to the three of you, offering a hand. "Name's Lieutenant Jackabee, First Mate to the Gryphon. Sorry you had to get caught up in all this, constables." He points out towards the ship that they are chasing and firing at with their twin forward guns, apparently trying to keep to the enemy's aft so as to not take fire from their starboard broadside - it looks like they are almost doing a steady circle currently. "That there is the Eminent. A three-masted corvette out of Shale, captained by Capt'n Jonas. Or was anyway, before the rebellion started. Two decks, thirty guns with a mix of heavy and light pounders - cannons that is. She came at us about an hour ago as we passed by a clever little illusion screen our watch failed to pick up, thinking they could ambush us and take out our mainmast and steering, and then circle 'round to volley us to the watery grave. Cheap bastards - they had a good storm druid on board and raked us plenty with fire and lightning, thinking they could overwhelm us before we had a chance to react..."
"Only the sorry sods don't know the Gryphon and that our prow is enchanted to ward off fire and lightning," interrupts Captain Allister as he keeps his eyes on the ship with his spyglass. "That's how I know it's not Captain Jonas commanding the Eminent, as he would've known that."
"Right." Lieutenant Jackabee removes his tricorn hat to smooth back greasy gray hair and sweat before putting it back on firmly. "So our war-mages slew their storm druid good, the prancing peacock struttin' up topside looking for something to kill when he should've taken cover. We're a full war frigate see, the Gryphon is, three-masted and three decks with fifty guns, including fore and aft chasers. The Eminent got greedy and bit off more than they could chew, and now they're on the run, but we have the weather gage on 'em."
At that remark the ship's Second Mate who doesn't introduce himself to the constables says, "Their gun crews are very tough though. I hate to say it but they've nearly done in our mainmast when their storm druid couldn't."
"Yeah," echoes First Mate Jackabee, "their gun crews are crack shots to be sure. We've lost a lot of men topside to their grape shot and heavy stuff."
Captain Allister interrupts them once again. "The mainmast will hold, gentlemen. Engineer Swanson has a good grip on it. Now if our damn chase gunners would just...Jackabee TELL them down there to stop mucking around or we're going to lose the gage again!"
"Excuse me, constables," says Lieutenant Jackabee politely. He trots out the side door to the stairwell the three of them came up on earlier and seconds later they hear, "YOU MANGY CURS - IF YA WANT TO KEEP YER HIDES YOU'LL TAKE OUT THAT RUDDER! NOW MAKE YER RANGE ONE-O-FIVE AND LEVEL IT OFF SOME AS YOU KEEP HITTIN' THE AFT GALLEYS! STUPID RUDDY..." Jackabee yells some more obscenities even as more arrow-fire comes from the Eminent's snipers and pings against the metal shutters of the wheelhouse. A few moments later the First Mate comes back in and shutters the side door closed.
"Sorry about that, constables," Jackabee says with an apologetic tone that seems utterly inconsistent with what he just yelled out to the foredeck gunnery crew. "They'll get the task done, the boys will. If we lock up their steering we'll be able to close up our angle and hit 'em with the prow and board 'em...we outnumber their crew two-to-one at least."
"My charge is to see you three safely to the fleet constables," says Captain Allister, "but I can't let the Eminent stand free. Just sit tight and see to yourselves for now, and once this is over I'll get us back underway to Axis Island by nightfall."
After helping Jesse to safety Tobias nods at Fethryth and produces the wand she lent him, forcing his own will power into the device as he taps it on her shoulder he feels the familiar surge of arcane magic that comes with a successful fire.
He then turns to Jesselle, places a hand on her shoulder and stares directly into her eyes for a moment. When he turns his head he laughs a little awkwardly despite the situation. "That's never going to feel natural. I've implanted a suggestion, that's what I call it anyway, into your mind that will let me react almost instantly if you're attacked. I can't heal you, not yet anway but it might prevent you from getting more hurt."
Defenses set, Tobias takes a quick mental inventory of his equipment then nods at the Captain when all the talk is finished. "I'll fight with your men, not going to have loyal men and woman risk their lives for me without seeing that the Constabulary has their back. If you allow it, I can take up a ranged position when we board and offer support from rear or I can fight from the front, but I'm not going to sit tight in either case."
After a fumbled start, becoming a pin cushion on the open deck motivates her and she quickly finds her sea legs and finds herself beside Tobias and Fethryth.
Jesselle takes out a scroll from her back and casts the arcane words upon it. A silver light surrounds the wounds she sustained, and stops the bleeding but still leave a nasty scabbing. The woman almost growls at the scroll's ineffectiveness but with a shrug toss the spent parchment into her backpack.
"Captain," She says with a nod and says with understanding, "Do what you have to do.
And than looks to Jackabee, "Lieutenant. I do not suppose you have any extra quiver of arrows aboard? When we get a little closer, I am all for a little pay back." The woman says taking out her own shortbow, a weapon made of fine darkwood, stringing the weapon.
"Thank you Tobias... Remember we got these nifty cloaks as well, that could help versus those snipers." She says tugging on her Catching Cape.
"She just told someone to get the gate closed," Anneca whispers to Gemma. "We have to keep them from taking the control room. The elemental will help take care of Sorkana." She gestures to the air elemental, which she has been holding in reserve. It swoops up the stairs, out of sight. Anneca runs into the next room, pulling out her last remaining warding scroll. She summons the incorporeal shield, causing the air in front of her to shimmer, as she prepares to be the last stand against the oncoming enemy. Every bit of her wants to run up those stairs and summon a cone of flame right while gouging out Sorkana's eyes, but she knows that no one else will be able to keep the gates open if the enemy starts trying to fix it.
Responding to Anneca's instructions, the elemental flies through the lighthouse precisely as a rush of wind would. It emerges from the window and flies up in the open air to engage the sorceress. It slams Sorkana with a gust of wind, but she dodges it with unearthly grace. It emits a strange whisper, hissing with the wind that whips over the bay.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Emerson looks up at the sound of breaking glass and can tell that something is wrong. A second later his feelings are confirmed when he hears Sorkana of all people, yelling at someone on the top floor of the lighthouse. ’If Johnathan’s up there alone, he’s in big trouble’
As soon as those thoughts echo in his mind another diminutive voice yells at Johnathan. He sees the multi-colored blast of light from her spell, but luckily is not affected by it. Between the ambient light of the beacon and the brief arcane blast, Hill pinpoints the flying figure easily.
He drops his baton and in practiced motion draws his carbine. Time slows down for him as he looks through his sights at the creature. He holds his breath, then slowly releases it as he squeezes the trigger.
BOOM!!! There is a shriek of pain as the bullet rips through the fey creature and for a second Emerson thinks he just grazed her. But then he sees her tiny form fall past the seawall and splash into the water below.
Satisfied with his work Emerson looks at his Stout Assistant, standing motionless near the still forms of the dead rebels. ’Protect the sea gate controls’ he thinks to it. The elemental sinks into the ground and glides to a position near the sea gate control panel.
The moment Tobias touches her with the wand semi-transparent armor slides over her body. With it comes a sense of relief; one more thing between her staying safe or becoming a pincushion. ”Thanks. Fethryth nods at her fellow constable.
She listens to the Captain and the First Mate, her face a study in stoicism, her eyes on the boarding party. Making the decision to go with them is easy; there’s no way she’s going to stand and wait while others risk their lives. ”I’ll join the boarding party. I’m a lot better in close quarters and I’m a solid healer. Why let you three have all the fun, eh?”
Jeselle has the right idea with the Catching Cape. Fethryth pulls hers out and ties it around her neck.