"I was briefed on the gangs. They were deemed untrustworthy, their motives obscure and against our own."
Bjorkus snorts and shakes his shaggy head.
"The Whitecloaks know the city better than you. If you wanna beat their advantage, you want the gangs on our side. We can worry about their motives later."
The bull gestures outside and nods to Toramin. "In the meantime, I've gotta give these people some good news."
"I'm worried about their motives now. This kind of chaos is precisely what they would take advantage of to establish their own control. Either way it's not my decision to make, I'm only overseeing the fighting in this piece of the city."
Bjorkus effectively tables the talk about the gangs by making an exit and looking for a good place to address the crowd.
Gabriel adds in a quieter voice, his thoughts a little distance, "They may be dangerous, but at the moment you leave them to plot and save their resources. Pulling in one of them might mean what you say, them taking advantage of the situation, but if you pull in two or three they'll be too busy watching their backs with the other gangs to do anything you can't predict. If you make sure to pick the one's that have enough animosity toward each other to avoid them teaming up but not enough to all out brawl, then you can get them spending resources holding this city rather then your own men, weakening them in the process. It's a dangerous gamble, of course, but food for thought perhaps?"
Ripshaw shakes his head. "You hear me boy? Not my decision to make." He grins. "I like that angle though. Bring it up to Heff or Krokar next time you run into one of them. Fighting fire with fire that fights itself."
Finding a clear space amid the coliseum’s floor, Bjorkus stands and clears his throat. He waits while those assembled one by one give him their attention and as more eyes fall on the bull, he feels an anxious energy welling up inside him unlike anything he’d felt in the arena before. When he thinks it’s finally time, he takes the bloody bundle off of Toramin’s back and speaks.
”I just escaped from Targ’s dungeons along with a couple dozen others the sod wanted to get rid of. It’d pissed him off when you approved of mercy in the arena and for that, he tried to lock me away in silence. In the dungeon under his fortress, his torturer did his worst with magic, poison, blades, and flame. He pushed me as far as my body could handle - far enough to kill me - but I wouldn’t be broken. No, Ares wasn’t broken but Targ the Twice-Taken was. Broken and dead!”
Bjorkus finishes with a roar as he unwraps and hefts the giant slaver’s bloody severed head high into the air with one massively muscled arm.
”But this wasn’t my victory or even the victory of those that escaped that dungeon alongside me. This was Akropash’s victory and Targ’s death is the first step toward a day when no man, woman, and child is owned; Toward an Akropash where no one is forced to suffer and die makin’ sods like Targ and his kind rich ever again; Toward a future where hope is more than just a pretty word!”
The bull grips Targ’s oversized blade and lifts it overhead alongside the severed head. The weapon was too unwieldy to be an effective weapon but it could still serve as a powerful symbol.
”Today is the day that we break our chains.”
”Today is the day we bring ruin down on those that have taken everything from us.”
”Today is the day that we show this city that it’s better a man die free than live even one more moment as a slave!”
***
Catching the sound of a drum beat in the crowd is all it takes to get the big bull started on a song.
For too long we've watched, waited, and suffered in slaver's wake.
But now it's time to stand and fight and seize the bloody day.
No more will we die with nothing but a scream,
We'll rise and fight and show the world that freedom's not a dream!
Here we are
Don't turn away now
We are the warriors
That'll rebuild this town
Here we are
Don't turn away now
We are the warriors
That'll rebuild this town
The time has come
for those in chains to rise
and prove to all
through all the pain
our spirit's never died
To war we go
to cast down those above
and we'll battle on until this town
is free and whole - a place we all can love
Here we are
Don't turn away now
We are the warriors
That'll rebuild this town
Here we are
Don't turn away now
We are the warriors
That'll rebuild this town
We must
Here we are
Don't turn away now
We are the warriors
That'll rebuild this town
Here we are
Don't turn away now
We are the warriors
That'll rebuild this town
We must
"I brought it up with you largely because of my inexperience. I wanted your opinion on the idea. I will do as you say the next time-" Before he could finish, Bjorkus' thundering voice rang out. Gabriel's eyes immediately turned to him and the others and after a moments thought, and a nod to the tacticians, he moves to take his place beside them. As the bull spoke, Gabriel wondered if this was history in the making. Such speeches were in many a tail he had heard from clerics of Shelyn who favored story telling as their art. To see such a thing before him was astounding. Most of it was perfect in Gabe's opinion, but he did, admittedly, wince on the inside when he heard the line about bringing ruin to some.
Toramin watches Bjorkus with pride. I knew he was no cow, but a bull!
When Bjorkus starts singing the dwarven paladin will stomp along at the beat to provide the skald with some percussive back up.
As she is with the Aestheric officers, Rilka hears Bjorkus’ singing. Gabriel stops talking and moves to join him. Toramin starts providing a bass beat. She grins, not knowing what will happen next, but knowing it will be fun. ”The leader of the Aussurian Legion is a werewolf. Extremely dangerous,” Rilka tells the officers. ”The white cloaks wear rings that allow them to communicate. Maybe you can get a few and compromise their communications. Good luck.”
She turns and watches the reaction of the crowd.
Bjorkus gets half a syllable into his speech when Bulanna stops him, then touches him on the throat and murmurs a word. Then she gives a nod and steps back.
Bjorkus's magically augmented voice booms over the Colosseum and into the surrounding city, so loud that those down in the center feel their eardrums throb in protest. But beyond his voice the area is completely silent as they listen to his speech, the refugees watching on in silence. Tears fall from eyes, nods of approval dot the crowd, and faces are peeled with anger. As his speech turns into song the audience quickly picks it up, joining him until a chorus of the downtrodden are chanting what must encompass half the city. The entire time more people are pouring into the arena, seeing the face of hope tell them to rise up.
All in all, it's a pretty glorious moment.
The singing continues after Bjorkus stops, although at least half the crowd roars it's approval. People start moving, a lot of them to the Aestheric supply of weapons and outfitting themselves to fight. Judging by the massive supply, the Aestherics were planning for such a thing.
Many from the crowd move down to meet their hero, but the first to reach Bjorkus are none other than the fighters he scrapped against in the fight club. Talev the ringmaster, Firyin the Silent, Boris the Strong, and all the rest are there. Talev laughs, smacking Bjorkus on the shoulder. "Oh you got them fired up now!" Boris nods, cracking his knuckles. "We follow Ares into battle!" Firyin gives Bjorkus a look, saying all he needs to with his hooked hands and armor. Talev looks around at all the unarmed fighters, then takes out his own meteor hammer. "We want to serve as your 'honor guard' of sorts, if you would have us."
Ripshaw walks over, hand on his ear and listening to whatever message is coming through. After a moment he nods. "Yes sir, I'll tell them right away." He takes his hand off his ear and looks at the party. "You're right Rilka, this Raul Ulric figure is damned dangerous. We tried taking the rings from the corpses of the white cloaks we've killed, but they appear to be tied to the person who was wearing them. Anyhow, right now Ulric is on a bloody rampage a few blocks from the white cloak's barracks. The thing is he's not only killing Aestherics and refugees, but also the undead troops we're fighting against. Krokar wants you to get over there and see what's going on."
When the Aestheric's start supplying the men and women, Gabriel takes the chance to ask Ripshaw, "You wouldn't happen to have a spare breastplate and longsword would you? I don't need anything magical. Just something serviceable I can use today."
Though it was magical, the mace he was wielding was unwieldy in his hands. He could use it, but it wasn't preferable. The odd crystal floating around his head did make it... easier? But when he wasn't fighting, Gabriel noticed that it had a tendency to get in the way of whatever he was looking at. He didn't really understand the magic behind it or the weapon, but Dalton had told him it would make his strikes more accurate.
Ripshaw nods. "I'll get you masterwork of both. Wearing metal armor in this heat can be stiffling though."
Bjorkus feels a rush like nothing else as his song is picked up by the masses and the crowd fills with purpose. He shouts encouragement at those first to reach for weapons and armor. This is it. The revolution is happening.
The memory of staring up at the rigging as a calf surfaces in his thoughts again…
The bull is surprised and pleased to see the brawlers from the Spider’s fight club break through the surging crowd to greet him. He’d known Akropash was a city full of strong fighters. It just needed someone to give them a hand in the right direction. He claps the half-elf on the shoulder heartily. ”I wouldn’t have it any other way”, he rumbles in reply.
Gabriel shrugs, slightly amused by that. He supposed it would be a problem for other people but he never had much trouble with hot weather. "The heat hasn't bothered me since I got here. It takes a lot to burn me. Thank you."
When Gabriel gets the items, he straps the sword to his waist and then quickly don's the Breastplate. He had plenty of practice with such armor so when he was done he moved to join Bjorkus and the others, ready to meet this Ulric and stop him.
I'd like a masterwork goblet of wine, myself, thought the mage with a smirk internally.
Yet the immediate though was inundated here and there with nervous constructions. Where was the mistress? Did Raul represent something greater? Could the otherworldly image manifest itself again - and did it harbor harm for him?
It was good they were basking in their glory; Dalton was barley fit to barter, never mind diplomatically posture.
Ripshaw nods, seeing that Gabriel gets his equipment. "The path to where Ulric is fighting is through the thickest of what's going on. You can either spearhead it or go around."
Bjorkus snorts and shakes his shaggy mane,
"If we're gunna be tanglin' with Raul, we'll need whatever silvered weapons you can spare."
Ripshaw frowns. "Silver makes bad weapons, I can't imagine we have too many of them lying around." Orgru steps over, reaching onto his pack. "I fought in a clan war against the wolf-people. Have always kept this on me since than." He pulls out a silver falchion. "It would give me great pleasure to know it is being used again, for it has done nothing but sit for many years. However I wish it's return once your work is done."
After weighing the blade in hand, Bjorkus answers Ripshaw with a nod. ”We’ll make sure it gets put to good use.”
Toramin will briefly look for Ninnec and Ymir.
"We are the spear. We will talk the fight to that wolf-man and we will break him."
"Let us keep our senses about us though; his kind occurs not in isolation."
Once Bjorkus steps away from the crowd he is approached by a middle aged human with a shaved head and tattoos covering his face, depicting him as hollowed. He wears loose robs with his arms folded over each other, giving a slight bow to Bjorkus. "Greetings Ares." His emphasis suggests he knows who Bjorkus really is. "I am Liamsho the Unliving, high priest of Pharasma and Thaumaturge of the Aestherics. At Heff's request I am here to alleviate or dispose of yours and another's curses." After gathering Toramin, he requests the two stand still for a moment.
"That was evil magic, born from dragon's blood to cause nothing but pain. I believe I have gotten rid of it, but you won't know until your protection against pain wears off."
Toramin can't find Ymir or Ninnec in the crowd, although he is certain that wherever Ymir is or whatever his condition is, the elemental is alive.
Ripshaw chuckles at Toramin. "I like your resolve. First find out why he's killing the undead though. Those unholy bastards are fighting against us but for some reason he's killing them."
"Does this city have any laws against Undead?" Gabriel asks Ripshaw, his eyes briefly scanning over the crowd to see if there were any familiar faces moving through it.
"Heff, knows why he is killing undead. Ask him to explain it."
"Do I look like Ulric to you? I don't know the laws of this city. Can't imagine a city that doesn't outlaw them though, I've never been to one." Gabriel sees Yix still hanging around, but beyond that does not recognize anybody.
Ripshaw arcs a brow at Toramin, then touches his earring and gets in contact with Heff. After a moment he mutters a curse. "All he knows is Ulric "doesn't like them". Real helpful that is."
Ares greets the Thaumaturge with a nod and remains still while he works his spell.
He flexes one meaty hand to test his grip and see if he feels any different.
”Thanks. I don’t wanna feel that s$#@ again. It was almost as bad as bein’ in Targ’s dungeon.”
Noting Liamsho’s magical prowess, he consider the huge blade strapped to his back.
”Say, think you know a spell or two that could reshape a weapon? This here is Targ’s sword – deadly as the man himself. I think it’d make a good symbol for the fight ahead but I can’t wield it as it is without weeks of trainin’ or a spell to make me bigger”, the bull explains. ”I’ve heard of magics that can reforge steel. You got anythin’ like that?”
Gabriel looks to Toramin curiously, "I thought it might simply be because he's a law man, but you seem to know the true reason. Why does he fight against them?"
Liamsho closes his eyes and goes silent. It's interesting to note that there are tattoos on his eyelids that make it appear as if he has no eyes. Half a minute passes, and it almost becomes tempting to ask if the caster heard Bjorkus. Then he opens his eyes, inhaling to respond. "Yes I know of such a spell, but it would take me fifteen minutes to prepare it and another ten to cast it and shape the weapon in question. It is also very costly and would take use of my powerful magic, so I would have to charge you. For an Aestheric I will lower the price to 500 gold."
Bjorkus nods. "That's expensive alright but it'll be worth it. It's going to take a while to get these men armed anyway."
"He is lying. Or he was lying earlier, but it's Heff. Lies are to be expected. A few days before Heff implied he knew quite a bit of his history. Called it tragic. Made noises of how Ulric was created to hunt undead."
Ripshaw groans, rubbing at his temple. "That man gives me a headache sometimes. If he's so adamantly against undead perhaps he could be useful, the gods know he's a terror in battle. However if that fails do not hesitate to cut him down. I have dozens dead and wounded from that bastard."
"I should have the coin to facilitate most of the cost of Ares's weapon." Dalton wanted to take care of the fine points now, leaving no hitches in the future. He doles out 10 platinum pieces to the warper. "Let that be the down payment."
Dalton shared none of the pity potentially given by one of the parties towards Ulric. "Men choose their own fates. We must use his choice - or lack of choosing - to our advantage." He rubbed his chin. "If we could more overtly tie the undead to Acera and push Ulric towards her, we could save ourselves much trouble."
"If you don't need his sector, perhaps you should call your men back and let him deal with the undead there? Carefully making probes would mean that the witch would still need to keep a presence there, giving him plenty of targets, while keeping your men away from his ferocity. Is there anything critical in that area?"
"He is a monster. We kill monsters. We go in and end him. Moreover, it makes tactical sense. We need to destroy their capacity to resist. The leader of the White Cloaks? Even were he not a potent resource, he is a powerful symbol of a dying order. The best way to destroy their capacities is to deny them the ability to imagine resisting."
Bjorkus snorts again and nods in agreement.
"Besides Targ, I can't think of a better show of strength in takin' down Raul and I still owe him for that cheap shot at the dinner party."
The halflling looks over the weapons and armor on hand and nods in satisfaction as people begin to prepare for battle. She shakes hands with Bjorkus’ honor guard and thanks them.
”You won’t get an argument from me about killing Ulric,” Rilka says, pausing long enough to indicate some hesitation. ”What about Acera though? Isn’t she a higher priority?”
Liamsho nods, accepting the money and going to a quiet corner in the arena to meditate.
Ripshaw grunts to Gabriel. "He's still giving the commands to the white cloaks. His position isn't important, he is. The undead follow our men and don't attack the white cloaks or Raul, so pulling back our troops would be pointless, it was a good idea though."
"You're right, killing Ulric would be like killing a sprouting head of a hydra. Just make sure you couldn't get the head to kill the others. Even if he comes to our side he will still face justice at the end of the day. Use your best judgement."
"Acera is the highest priority right now; however we have literally zero intel on her whereabouts."
Rilka explains her plan of running to the manor to retrieve her pistol and ammunition. ”It’s not that far. Even with diving and hiding, plenty of time to spare. Plus if we’re going to be fighting a werewolf, I could use my mithral shirt. Maybe there’s enough time to reach the nearest alchemical shop too. Get some silversheen. How does that sound?” Though if someone wants revenge on us, it’s highly likely they know where we live, she thinks. ...I’ll be careful.
Even though it's only 25 minutes, the wait feels like an eternity to the bull but he busies himself by meeting some of the fighters and getting to know his new 'Honor Guard'. He was used to having a crew, a firstmate, and even a master-at-arms but the notion of a group dedicated to his protection was new. Bjorkus wasn't quite sure if he liked the idea of someone else fighting his battles for him.
When the ritual is complete, Bjorkus returns to the Liamsho's side to see the results. He takes the weapon in hand, testing its weight and balance. Even after the ritual it was still a hefty weapon and what it lacked in graceful form it made up in lethal force. The bull takes a few practice swings and admires the way it tests his muscles.
"It ain't pretty", Bjorkus says aloud for everyone nearby, "But war never is."
"How about we take Tyrantbreaker outside and make Akropash a little safer?"
- Talev is a skilled warrior both offensively and defensively. Clearly the strongest amongst the group, but beyond fighting he does little else.
- Boris the Strong is strong.
- Firyin can cast darkness and terrify opponents. He also has tracking and stealth skills.
Though everyone else seemed quite eager to face down Ulric, Gabriel looked a little doubtful about the task to come. "You say he commands the Whitecloaks still, yes? Then their actions speak for his choices... They fight the Aestheric, but if I were to see an unfamiliar army fighting in the streets in my homeland, I would fight them too... Err, no offense. The question I have is... what is he doing with the civilians? Is he butchering them? What about the rest of the Whitecloaks?"
Each pause in Gabriel's words hinted at the ideas churning away in the tieflings mind. After he asked the question, he seemed more certain, as if whatever answer he got would settle things.
"Lad, they said he was butchering everyone who crossed his path. You saw what he did to Bjorkus. Evil stains his soul. What more do you need?"
Turning to the commanders, "Have you been able to identify White Cloak weapon depots and bolt holes outside of their garrison? Disrupting their infrastructure could be very useful."
Gabriel blinks, then nods. "Sorry, its been a short while since I've been in a war zone." He grabs the hilt of his longsword to get a feel for it and then looks over to Toramin and the group they were gathering. He felt his heart beginning to pump and a familiar surge of energy rush through him as he realized what this was. As silly as it seemed, he had spent the better part of his adulthood on the battlefield. It felt... almost too good to be back.
"That would probably be a difficult task considering how many underground tunnels are said to be in this city. They also have lines of communication that rival the Aestheric with their magic equipment. A hard, fast strike will give him less time to call others to his side and prepare, but going through the thick of things means alleviating the pressure on your forces. What would you suggest Ripshaw?"
A thought just seems to occur to him, and he puts on the earring that Heff had given him earlier. After a few moments of trying to figure out how it works he says aloud, "Heff, can you hear me? Am I using this right?"
"Yes, I can't believe there'd be hesitation to want the man done away with." Dalton was a bit taken aback at Gabriel's hesitation. Never understood the pious types.
Gabriel frowns just a little, though not at Dalton. Its more the idea he brought up. "The man is wicked and has done wicked things. I believe he should face justice for his crimes. I suppose... I was just hoping the leader of what amounts to the law in this city was more then just a sadistic monster. The law is there to protect the people, after all... or it should be."
”So we’re agreed on fighting Ulric next,” Rilka says limbering her shoulders, hips, and hamstrings. ”There’s so much we don’t know about Acera. It’s hard to think about what she’d do in this scenario. Her plans for this city have been massively disrupted. Would she fight to stay or leave it all behind.”
She pulls back on one foot, stretching her quadricep. ”Well, I’m almost ready for my dash back to the manor.”
"If she's truly working with Calios and that Tiefling, she might not have a choice but to try and salvage whatever plans she had here. In all honesty, the number of undead only support my theory. She's probably been crafting this army with the dead from the Arena, amongst other things. Lets hope she stays... I have some questions for her, as do the Aestheric's I'm sure." Gabriel seemed to be more focused now. Whatever was distracting him, Toramin's rebuke seemed to have brought him back in line with the present day. "If you spot Edward or Toramin's friend at the manor, please let them know whats happening. I trust Toramin's note got to them but keeping them updated might save their lives."
”The Whitecloak’s whole mission is b!%*&~#&”, Bjorkus rumbles. ”You weren’t around a few days ago but it’s clear they’re ridin’ Targ’s shaft ‘round the clock. They don’t give a s~## about Akropash or her people. They're just muscle for the slavers - nothin' more.”
The bull snorts and shakes his shaggy head. ”I don’t know why the dog’s attacking the undead but I can’t say it matters. He’s gotta be put down.”