"How long until the changing of the guard?" Karactus asked.
"You have several hours until the boys rotate. The interior guards live here biweekly. The off-shifters are probably still sleeping in the makeshift barracks down the west hall.", the Sargeant emotionlessly replied.
"Still sleeping sounds like ripe for the picking to me..." Ulmah purrs.
"Agreed." Karactus rumbled.
"You intend to slaughter my men in their sleep like cowards?", the Sergeant glares at Ulmah.
"Yes." Karactus said simply. "And thou shalt help."
"Remove thy armor, shield, bow and sword."
Bognus's beard twitched.
Oh aye, we'll surely be needin' this fat git tae take some willow-lovin' Mitrans while they're abed.
"Bah," he muttered.
The Sergeant hesitates, looking over to Nuandis for orders.
Sighing at the limitations of her magic, Nuandis step up to the Sarge and begins to help him out of his armor.
"It's not that he wants your belongings, I just want to see you naked...." she boldly lies. Or does she?
Leaving the group unable to discern whether he is happy or not, the Sargeant removes his gear as quickly as Nuandis's hands assist him, setting it all on the bed for examination.
"Are there other exits to yon barracks?" Karactus asked the Sergeant.
Bognus's lip curled in scorn as the Sergeant blithely removed the last hope he had of defense. His arms crossed over his broad chest, and his foot started tapping.
LOOT:
+2 Adaptive Longbow
+2 Benevolent Breastplate
+1 Expeditious Heavy Steel Shield
+1 Holy Long Sword
Belt of Physical Perfection +4
Amber Spindle Ioun Stone
"No, there is only one door leading to and from. From my quarters, two lefts, the only only door" the Sargeant states plainly.
Karactus began putting on the Sergeants armor and weapons. It was almost ritualistic. As he moved he adopted more and more of the Sergeants mannerisms and appearance. A military bearing supplanted the predator's prowl and a stern benevolence took over his eyes where a cunning malevolence had been moments before.
By the time he was finished, he was the sergeant.
He drew the sword, turning it over in his hand to look at the Mitran iconography and let the holy energies wash over him.
He smiled. "What is thy name, Sergeant?" he said in an impressive impression of the man's own voice.
"I don't think Bognus is amused.", Nuandis pouted.
"I promise I'll leave the boys in the Barracks for you to smash around!" she says, flashing a smile back at Bognus.
She orders the Sarge to cover up with a sheet as she starts picking up pieces of the armor, helping Karactus into it.
Bognus grunted in response, scraping a bit of guard out of his front teeth with his thumbnail. "Oh aye? Thanks e'er so fer yer graciousness, lass."
Despite the surly words, though, the burly dwarf did seem mollified for the moment. He eyed Karactus's transformation with a look that was somehow impressed and contemptuous at the same time.
"Nae bad," he admitted. "Seen better in me time, but nae bad. Shoul' fool tha goat-suckers waitin' fer us, I s'pose."
"Blackerly. Thomas Blackerly. What are you?" he asked in mutual awe and disgust.
"Awake." the Sergeant's doppleganger answered.
"Arm thyself, Thomas Blackerly." he said, gesturing to the weapons carried by the undead guards. "It is time to slaughter thy friends."
"Attend here. I shall return presently."
Karactus moved out of the Sergeant's rooms and quietly made his way down the hall. He carefully opened the door, not hiding his presence, but taking care to be quiet.
Bognus, picking through what was left of the Sergeant's gear, eyed the little gem suspiciously for a moment before shrugging and slotting it into the second space on the compass hanging from his belt.
Ne'er met an ioun stone I dinnae like.
That done, he stalked down the hall, surprisingly silent as he followed after Karactus. Sure that his allies would object if he simply barged ahead, he hung back for the moment, just behind the last turn in the halls as he waited for the signal from the spirit...man...thing.
The barracks is a large, rectangular chamber with two rows of bunkbeds lined against each wall and lockers at the feet. There are a few tables closer to the entrance, with chess tables and cards throw about on each. Close to a dozen guards sleep on the beds at the far end of the room, but two were awake playing chess at one of the tables. They move to the door to greet the Sargeant, neither offering a salute, perhaps since living at the keep, they keep things less formal.
"Evenin' Blackerly! Come for a game of cards? Mitch and I couldn't seem to sleep, so we're just killin time till shift starts"
"I was hopin' someone would be up and wanting t' lose some money." Karactus said with Blackerly's smiling face. "How about we set up out here so we dont wake the rest of the boys."
"Losin coin? Not with me at the table", the middle-aged, black haired man referred to as "Mitch" boasted. "You want to play over in the gatehouse? At least they have tables there Sarge."
"A couple of the prisoners were acting up earlier. I don't want to be at the gatehouse if they try something stupid." the Sergeant said. "Let's just commandeer the table around the corner."
Karactus turned to lead the soldiers to their deaths.
Seeing the 'Sergeant' turn back away from the room, Bognus smiled with all his fangs, then slipped back inside the room where the others waited. He raised a fist gleefully, signalling the rest that the spook had finally finished with his task. Pressing up against the wall by the door, Bognus lurked, his hands flexing with eager malice.
Ulmah waits with the others, allowing Karactus and Bognus to have their respective fun.
The poor guards follow Karactus around the hall, unaware of whatever horrid fate he has in plan for them, chuckling to each other about how their coinpurses will be heavier by the end of the day
Karactus walked them up and around the hall, back toward the guard station, knowing his allies would be following.
As the guards rounded the corner past the door, Bognus slipped out into the hall with undisguised glee, his booted feet making disturbingly little noise as he crept up behind the unsuspecting mortals while they continued down the hall, further away from their sleeping comrades. His hands reached out for the guard in the rear with deadly intent.
Completely caught off guard, one of the two men quickly found themselves in Bognus's clutches, both screaming for the aid of their beloved Sargeant.
The Sergeant watches for a momnet, then walks back up the hall, leaving them in the clutches of a monster.
Back in Blackerly's quarters Karactus handed the actual Sergeant a hand axe.
"Thou art going to sneak into the barracks and silently kill as many sleeping soldiers as thou cans't. If they wake, thou shalt fight them as though they were thy most despise'd foes . Thou shalt not apologize nor let them know what is happening, nor why. They shall die wondering."
Ulmah will stand back and allow Bognus to bathe in the blood of the guards... no need to soil her dress any further.
After a few brief moments, the screaming ends; more than likely from two skulls caving each other in. The Sargeant looks sickened by Karactus's order, turning to Nuandis as almost if to beg her for another task.
Bognus strolled past the door on his way to the barracks with a satisfied smirk on his face, shaking his hands free of bits of brain and meat.
From the doorway, Karactus held up a hand to hand Bognus. "Sergeant Blackerly has a mission to undertake."
Bognus scowled. "Ye're jokin'. They're asleep, fer stone's sake. Let's git this done and be on."
"Will thou gain'st any kind of satisfaction from the slaughter of slumbering soldiers?" Karactus asked blithely.
The dwarf snorted. "Will ye "gain any satisfaction" out o' takin' another five minutes ta show off yer puppet?"
He squinted up into the eyes of Karactus's stolen flesh. "Look, the trickery an' sneakin' about is all well and good when ye've got an actual threat ta deal wit', but why in every Hell are we botherin' to waste our time wit' this trash? Fer all we know, bustin' us loose set a platoon o' real paladins marchin' their shiny keisters over here ta come escort us down ta tha last dustin' grounds. Tha' might be one hell o' a fight, but we kin only take so many o' 'em wit' us, so let's git this done and be on."
"We are in no hurry. I wear the sergeant's face. The sergeant himself is under our sway. The guard change is hours away yet. The only foes left in this prison are asleep. We are in as little danger as we are likely to be in until we leave." Karactus said patiently.
"There is purpose here, thought you do not see it."
"Then bloody well explain it, or I'm doin' this my way," Bognus replied, waving irritatedly at Nuandis to get the Sergeant to get on with his business while they argued.
"Yon sleeping soldiers do not matter. Sergeant Blackerly does not matter. Nor even the warden of this place. They are fools. Pawns."
"They shall die and stand before their god. It is their only purpose. So it is how they die that matters to my designs."
"Should they be slain by thee, when they go before their Lord they will know only that they were slain by a monster. They will be honored in the paltry heaven Mitra has crafted to delude them."
Seargent Blackerly's eyes hardened, his handsome features barely containing the wroth of the creature that wore his face.
"Should they be slain by a friend, then when they stand before that golden throne they will want answers. They will ask why."
"Then Mitra, Lord of Light, will be faced with a choice. To lie to his martyred faithful, or to tell them why I am here."
"And in that moment of choice, Mitra, Lord of Light, will remember what it is to doubt."
Bognus's brow furrowed, his face uncharacteristically thoughtful for a moment. "Ye...want their souls ta ask their god a question."
He leaned in, feigning a conspiratorial whisper. "Ye know tha's starkers, righ'?"
He threw up his hands, stalking in a frustrated little circle. "E'en if Mitra is payin' attention, e'en if he knows who the blazes ye are, e'en if he gives a rat's arse about such things, he kin just tell 'em that an enemy o' the faith took over the Sergeant's brain, and he'd be tellin' tha bloody truth."
He stopped his pacing and pointed a meaty finger at Karactus's face. "E'en if ye are what I'm startin' to think ye might be, murderin' a few o' his least servants ain't gonna give nae Lord o' Light a bit o' pause, old spook."
He faced the 'man' fully again, fists planted on hips. "Ye know as well as I that these li'l bits ain't nothin' more than a petty taunt ta somethin' as big as Mitra's church. We've gotta finish up wit' the small fry an git outta here fer real afore ye can get ta whate'er grand plans ye've got, an' the rest o' us can git movin' with our own."
The dwarf leaned back on the wall, fingers drumming impatiently on his crossed arms again. "I'll allow ye this one fer yer pride's sake - but there's work yet ta be done, so after this, quit yer showin' off and let's get on wit' it."
Karactus smiled. "Cleverness oft seems as madness to those who have never known either."
"Nuandis? Set thy pet to task, please."
Bognus's eyes narrowed dangerously, but he let the crack pass. For now.
Ulmah regarded the exchange between her two allies with interest. Bognus' brashness would likely come in handy later on, as would Karactus' cleverness. Never one for brash actions, she would watch as the differences in personality caused conflict, and find ways to capitalize on that conflict.
Beaming a smile back at the Sarge, Nuandis chimes in, "Don't forget to check in with Bognus! I think he might have a weapon to take with you!"
Bognus gave the enchantress a flat look. "If'n yer puppet needs somethin' aside his own hands, there's a couple'a swords lyin' down the hall jest thar." He waved toward the eastern hallway. "Ye kin find 'em buried under the meat of tha other two."
With a heavy sigh, Thomas departs, rounding right to find a weapon he was more comfortable with to carry out his morbid task, silently praying in his head for salvation from Mitra.
Those waiting in the room see him pass back through the hallway on the way to the barracks, bloodied sword in hand. Those who follow him get to bear witness to a surprisingly efficient slaughter. Thomas takes great care to muffle his soldiers before slicing their throats or driving his blade through their hearts; though under command, he endeavors to make their ends as quick and painless as possible. Only as he begins the ritualistic killing of the second to last man does he rouse them, and unarmed and unarmored, they quickly fall to a few expert strokes of his blade.