”I like disguises, as some of you probably know,” Rilka says. ”I don’t think they have any halflings, half-minotaurs, or over-weight half-elves in the Aussirian Legion though. No offense,” she adds looking at Dalton. She looks at Ares' honor guard, imagining them in white cloaks.
”Are we to be your prisoners? We may avoid getting attacked by the white cloaks, but our own side may attack us. As for where to go; going to their headquarters will get their attention. The numbers wouldn’t be in our favor. Any other ideas?”
"We have Ulrics last location and apparently he's leaving a trail of bodies, mostly undead. We find that spot, follow the trail, and take him down. As far as the rest, the disguise is meant to hopefully avoid the undead. If they don't believe the cloaks they won't care about prisoners." Gabriel was donning a cloak and handing out the others to those who would be able to wear them.
”Oh, right,” Rilka chuckles pretending to strike her head. ”His last known location. How could I forget that?”
Talev looks at the cloak. "Not a bad plan since us three are a little more human looking. But if we went that route we might want the whole outfit."
Bjorkus nods. "Be quick about it."
The three bruisers suit up, taking a few minutes of precious time but looking very authentic in their new outfits. Boris actually looks like a very good, imposing white cloak. Firyin looks a little brooding, but Taleb is having trouble hiding his prominent elven ears. He ends up wrapping a cloth around them hard with a grunt. The decapitated corpses are hidden in a back alley as the three take up flanking positions. Talev faces the party. "So how's this gonna go down, it's a little obvious if you're walking armed and not chained up."
Gabriel grunts, then gestures. "Those with cloaks on the perimeter. Those without on the inside. Best liar, get in front, just in case. Make it look like we're escorting them. Good excuse to have your weapons out, but try and point them vaguely at the ones we're 'leading' without stabbing them. Might even get us close. Anyone asks, they surrendered, we're escorting them, and the manacles are gone. If they ask, tell them it will be in a report or something after the fricking battle. Make it sound a little contemptuous."
Rilka nods in approval of the plan. ”If the prisoners walk with our hands behind our backs, that might help too.”
Bjorkus nods and calls out to the others. "You heard 'em. Get in position!"
Dalton takes his place as bidden. They have had their time following orders, and now the shoe is on the other foot.
The party gets in places for their facade and has their "honor guard" lead them through the streets.
Amazingly enough, in all the confusion there are at least two bands of white cloaks that don't even give them a second glance. There's so much fighting and lack of organization that they don't seem to have time to check on each others legitimacy.
Eventually everybody makes it to a familiar, if not happy place; the Aussurian Legion barracks. As if on cue, Rilka gets an incoming message from Krokar as the party approaches the building. <<Raul was last seen in the courtyard, an open area where new recruits train. It's in the center of the compound.>>
Maintaining the ruse, Bjorkus keeps his horned head bowed but flashes Rilka a nod.
Rilka repeats what she’s been told and adds, ”They know this facility. They have the advantage. Should we try to find a defensible position? Though Raul could send wave after wave to wear us down before fighting us.” She keeps her hands behind her back. She looks around her surroundings, trying to imagine where a good point to defend would be. ”Let’s be smart about this. Suggestions?”
Gabriel nods with Bjorkus' plan, thinking that it was good for obfuscation, but quickly moves to the back with the greatsword he had been given drawn. "Not sure how many tieflings they have but if one persons behind, less questions about both me and why no one is guarding the rear."
It visibly pained Gabriel, who had been one of those in the front charging the wall of his old countries capitol, to suggest being in the back. It felt like cowardice to him and he was no where near good enough at disguising his emotions to hide it from the rest of them.
The halfling shakes her head as Gabriel moves to the back of the group. She judges the body language and appearance of the “honor guard” that joined their group, but doesn’t think any of them could be as effective as Gabriel in displaying a disciplined, militaristic demeanor.
”You’re going to be speaking if anyone challenges us,” Rilka says, pointing at Gabriel. ”Say you captured Ares. Not letting us out of your sight until we get to Ulric. You must be wily to have survived in the Arena. Use that skill here. You got hit by a witch’s hex that disfigured you if anybody asks. Now get to the front, please.”
Gabriel frowns, but nods after a moment. Though he still didn't know she was the leading officer, Rilka definitely had the air of one and the young man had always been quick to respect authority. Her rational was helpful in making it go unnoticed as he stepped to the front. As he does so he pulls up whatever hood the cloak has to hide someone from the sun, taking only a moment to poke his rams horns through them. "I can... I think I have an idea. Alright, I'm ready."
”I’m glad to hear it,” Rilka says with a smile.
Dalton nods, but he was none too chatty at the moment - the looming encounter with that not-fully-human commander would not be pleasant. He steeled his nerves while they prepared.
The party and their escorts begin moving through the compound. There are bodies fairly often, mostly white cloaks and undead white cloaks but also some aestherics and some civilians. About halfway there a group of six white cloaks turns the corner and sees the party. One of them is missing a leg and leaning heavily against another white cloak, while the one in front has a bandage around his head that covers his right eye. He gives a look of surprise then confusion. "What are you doing?"
Gabriel steps up, his tone authoritative. "We captured someone claiming to be Ares the 'Honorable' and some of his cohorts attempting to rally some of the slaves in an ambush. When he realized we had him surrounded, he surrendered."
Gabriel was surprised at how easily the lie came to him and he secretly felt a little ashamed of it. But right now it was more then useful for what they had to do and he thanked the good gods he didn't stumble or stutter once. "We're taking him to Commander Ulric. He'll know what to do. If it is the real thing the Commander can probably use that."
Gabriel paused for a moment, then arched an eyebrow and looks at the man pointedly. He was trying to project an air of confidence and authority, and his look was meant to ask 'Why haven't you moved out of the way yet?'
Gabriel suddenly becomes a smooth, calm liar, putting on a show with the same detached air as Heff.
He looks at Bjorkus, face lighting in recognition. "By hell you're right, that's him!" He leans against the wall, looking back at his beaten up squad members. "You haven't heard, have you? Ulric's on a rampage, he'd probably kill Ares on sight. That f&+!ing c$%! Acera put some sort of curse on us, all the legion members. When we die, we come back. The Commander is losing his s!+~ about it, and I don't blame him. If I could get my hands on that b@%$@..."
Gabriel frowned, then shook his head. "The enemy is hunting that damned witch from what I've heard, but my squad hasn't lost any. We were too busy sneaking around. Didn't want to get caught with the cow if he was the real one."
Upon learning the real one, Gabe does give a slightly wary glance back, but then his attention turns forward again. His expression became angry as everything the man said seemed to register. "If he can use Ares to stop the damned invaders we can focus on the b~~&+. The Commander might kill him, but if it means we can end this fighting and focus on hunting her down it's worth the risk... And no doubt the Commander can use him just as well dead as alive."
Then his expression becomes slightly worried as he glances at the man missing a leg. "We should probably move along. The longer we take, the more legion members die. I'll not have that on my head." Gabe would wait for the man to salute first, if he did so at all, and then return the gesture. If the man didn't, he would simply wait for the man and his squad to move, on hoping his bluff had worked.
"He's in the courtyard, trying to finish off what remains of the undead. We're getting some of the wounded to area 4." With a wave the group begins heading off.
Gabriel gives the group a withering glance to make certain they understood not to say a word, then does the same as the supposed leader of the other group, waving them on. It was hopefully in the direction of the courtyard, trying to draw from memory of the maps he had studied to see if they had any details of this building. He does so slowly, as if the slaves might have had a slow pace, just in case he took a wrong turn. Only when the other squad was out of sight did he start leading the group more purposefully. He resisted the urge to sigh with relief.
Bjorkus continue to play along as the beaten would-be revolutionary. The thought that the Whitecloaks could be useful in dealing with Acera does dance across his thoughts but it doesn't do anything to distract him from the task at hand. The bull shuffles along when the parade of prisoners gets moving again, keeping his eyes to the ground.
I'd pay a good few silver to see the two of them go at each other's throats...
Stifling a smirk at the thought, Dalton kept his guise. Gabriel could make a good replacement for Heff with a tongue like that.
Toramin stands very still. It hadn't escaped his notice that all of the white cloaks were human and none of them particularly short. He was pleased by Gabriel's performance but he would be best pleased by repeatedly driving his hammer through the white cloak leader's head -- whatever his name is.
Rilka thinks that if she really were captured by the white cloaks she would probably be babbling, throwing insults, and asking annoying questions to irritate them. Unless they gagged her or hurt her companions. Since this scenario is different, she keeps quiet and does her best to look properly chastised.
With the group of white cloaks avoided the party makes it the rest of the way without hindrance from any living foes. However there are plenty dead ones that slow the journey, as corpses are covering more than half of the ground. Many are white cloaks, but just as many are civilians or slaves, and there's a decent number of Aestherics as well. Finally the party makes the final turn, seeing the courtyard from the southern entrance.
The ring of steel, smell of blood and death, and sight of arcing blood and corpses fill the senses. Raul is at the head of a company of a dozen white cloaks, fighting off what seems to be a hoard of undead white cloaks and slaves somewhere around 50 in number. The legion members have piled corpses together in a makeshift barricade to funnel the undead into attacking two or three at a time. From the look of it they've all been fighting a very long time, as many have injuries, some are running out of arrows, and they all look exhausted. Raul stands in front in werewolf form, chopping mercilessly at the hordes of undead streaming into their shelter, three white cloaks with longspears behind him jabbing forward when they can. Eight white cloaks lean on top of the wall of corpses on each side of the entrance, shooting down what remains of their arrows and throwing weapons to further chop through the ranks of undead. The last appears to have lost a leg and a good chunk of his neck and is sitting in the back, white faced and holding his neck wound in shock.
None of them appear to have noticed the party.
Dalton glances about to make sure they weren't being observed. "We might not need to lift a finger."
"Targ was the first step but this city's gotta see that nothin' can stop this rebellion. Lettin' Raul and his dogs be cut down by the deadmen isn't gunna do anything to fire them up. If that sod dies today, it's got to be our hands", Bjorkus adds with a rumble while still trying to maintain the ruse.
"What do ya think?" he asks with a slight nod toward Rilka.
Rilka studies the undead’s appearance and behavior to identify them.
”I agree, Ares,” Rilka says as she apprises the situation. ”Do you think Ulric will become an undead too?” She chuckles. ”I guess it doesn’t matter, if we can decapitate him. You and Toramin have silver weapons, right? You’ll be most successful against Ulric. The honor guard, Gabriel, and I can try to keep the white cloaks from surrounding you. Let’s not try to kill the white cloaks and create new enemies to fight. Dalton, you know which of your spells will be effective here. Any suggestions or improvements to the plan?”
From what Rilka can tell these are pretty vanilla zombies.
"One. If undeath and lycanthropy aren't exclusive to each other, I'd rather not stick around to see how they interact."
"Master Dalton, what are the limitations on the raising of zombies? Expensive materials? Is there a limit to how many one might control? What can we discern from the volume of undead that we are seeing?" Toramin asks while he applies the silver sheen to his war hammer.
"I say we hit hard, crushing him, and then report back."
"This is likely something similar to the plague from Xilres Toramin. I think the normal limits might not apply. With all those undead in the way, our best bet would probably be clearing them first. If he see's us fighting, we can get close and then strike when he's focused on the undead. The 'prisoners' fighting might confuse that though..." Gabriel frowned as he looked back at the others for a moment, then forward again to the undead. Even now part of him wanted to suggest diplomacy. If they helped, they might get at least a little leeway, and once again the allies that his friends had made had possibly lied to them, this time about Raul's actions.
He was certainly an evil man, and had served a worse one willingly, but... He shook those thoughts off. The group was decided, and they weren't wrong either. Raul deserved to face justice for his crimes. In this instance, there was no innocent man they were facing, just a cruel aid to a tyrant.
Listening to the dwarf's well-worded questions, Dalton considered a moment. He is more aware of the magical realm than I thought.
"Necromancy is not my primary study, but it is a field I've dabbled in. Never bothered with manipulating corpses myself, but rather the ebb and flow of negative energy. True zombies though? There's no limit to the number our foe could raise." He gave a shrug. "Creatures independent of a magician's will are only a chore in the process of raising - afterwards, they do as they would; they are then no strain on the effort of the spellweaver."
"On the other hand, if a necromancer seeks to control the actions or thoughts of a creature, it's a very involved process - usually more difficult the more acute a creature's active mind is. To individually manage more than a small handful of people, you'd have to be immensely powerful. And though as much as I dislike the prospect of facing this witch, I would bet Acera does not possess that power, at least innately." The analysis of how little they could determine about their current situation was a bit unsettling.
"Oh! And components. Life is a very fragile thing, and so it requires a stabilizing bit of material for the more powerful necromancies to work through. Minerals with a crystal structure are perfect for these spells; their regular lattice provides the necessary interplanar reverberation necessary to propagate the energies beyond a moment's time, allowing the dead to walk instead of simply seize about. What her particular spells require though? I cannot say."
He didn't mind talking about his craft. It was strangely comforting in this harsh land.
Rilka listens as Dalton confirms some of her knowledge concerning the zombies. Gabriel’s mention of a plague in Xilres gives her pause. If these incidents are tied together, in addition to that strange lead box, something much larger is going on, she thinks.
”I don’t see us getting to Ulric without getting through the zombies,” Rilka says with a sigh. She unslings her staff and gives it a twirl. ”I guess it will warm up our bodies for facing Ulric. Good luck, gentlemen. As Toramin said, ‘Hit hard.’”
Dalton shrugs. "I can bolster Bjorkus's muscles one last time; hopefully that will help along with that new weapon."
Bjorkus grunts his thanks and then draws his new weapon. It needed a name but the bull knew now wasn't the time to muse on such things. Once his companions and honor guard are ready, he brandishes the two-handed sword and bellows a chant lending his strength to those by his side.
"First these walking corpses then Raul!"
+2 morale to con
+2 morale to will
+4 enhancement to strength
”Thanks,” Rilka says as Bjorkus’ magic infuses her muscles and martial spirit. She thumps the butt of her staff into the ground once, loads the sling with a bullet, and launches it at the nearest zombie.
Rilka's shot is well aimed, but it seems to tear through loose flesh and barely cause any damage.