Toramin looks up at Lindale as he plays with the captured leader's dagger. His annoyance is as plain as his glare.
"Did you not hear me, soldier? Did you mistake my meaning? You have my gratitude for your keen eyes and quick wits, but you need discipline. Go. Warn. Geoffrey. To. Secure. All. Sensitive. Items."
Psotheos doesn’t want to speak and give away his Xilrest accent, but the man’s actions make him suspicious. He’s about to disguise his voice as if he came from Brumik, when a loud crash comes from the tent.
”Colonel!” he calls, as Bjorkus rushes past the man. He extends his arm in a flash, rapier’s tip pointing at the man’s chest. ”Remain still!” he barks.
Bjorkus forces the man to the side, who's about to draw arms and retaliate when he turns to find a sharp bit of metal on his chest. He pales, lips going thin. He begins to look like a cornered animal
Inside the Tent
Geoffrey is on the ground wrestling with a hooded figure. Geoffrey is unarmored, unarmed, and doing everything he can to keep a dagger half an inch from his face from descending. The dagger is through the back part of his hand, and he's reinforcing his left hand with his right arm, face flushed as he pushes with all his might against the death that seeks to claim him. You can see the dagger glowing a dark, unhealthy green, and even with no magical knowledge you know there's something unnatural about it. The man turns slightly at your entrance, and Geoffrey takes advantage of the distraction to strike the man in the chin, alleviating the pressure for a moment
Spotting the would be assassin mounting the Colonel sends Bjorkus into a frenzy. Even though he's bare-chested and wearing little more than his ratty loincloth from earlier, he narrows his gaze. With a bellowing bestial roar, the half-minotaur takes off at a charge, lowering a shoulder and slamming into the attacker with a linebacker's tackle.
The assassins' eyes widen as Bjorkus charge, and he completely forgets about Geoffrey. The Colonel throws him off at the perfect time for Bjorkus to slam into him, carrying him away from the prone Colonel. The assassin cries out "No, I cannot fail! I will not fail!" and as Geoffrey stands the assassin throws the sickly dagger underneath Bjorkus's arm, turning in the air until it lands with a dull crunch in Geoffrey's shoulder. Geoffrey goes back down to his knee, and over his moan of pain you hear a faint sizzling...
Bjorkus’ bellow and the sound of bodies impacting together cause Psotheos to glance into the tent while he increases the force of the rapier pressing against the man’s chest.
”Colonel! Are you safe?” he calls while staring into the man's eyes he's holding at bay.
As the man raises his hand to hurl the dagger, the minotaur raises his boarding axe high for a brutal chop.
The assassins eyes gleam with pride as the dagger lands, and he begins laughing, almost in disbelief. His victory is cut short by a boarding axe crashing down into his chest, cracking his breastbone and spurting out a massive amount of blood. His laugh turns into a blood filled cough and he staggers back, looking down at the mortal wound. He begins to reach up to touch it...then pulls a scroll out of his robe and manages a terrible bloody smile "You lose" And then searing flames erupt from the scroll, completely engulfing the man and spreading to devour the rest of the tent. At the last second Bjorkus manages to duck behind the stump set there for him earlier, protecting him from the worst of the heat. After a moment he looks up to see nothing but a charred black form of a man, but as he turns he sees Geoffrey, who managed to grab his shield and survive the explosion as well.
Bjorkus crawls out from behind his makeshift cover, the tuft of fur atop his bovine head still aflame. Even if the stump had shielded him from the worst of the blast, the bull was still badly burned, his massive frame bloody and raw where his hide was scorched the worst.
Seeing that the Colonel was still standing after the wounds he'd endured and after suffering his own portion of the flames earns a grunt of respect from the half-minotaur.
"You're tough, I'll give you that", he says with a snort.
"I remember being on watch WITH you Toramin. Don't you see the Tiefling, if there is something to be done I will be too late, or an extra body crowding the scene." Lindale paused and wrapped the dagger in cloth he just cut from one of the dead soldiers coat.
"I will leave, however, and let the Colonel know we have a prisoner to interrogate. He will live?" Whether the Dwarf answers or not he sets off back to camp, magical dagger carefully wrapped, towards the Colonel.
Toramin sighs, I don't know whether to recommend that he receive a commendation or be strung up for insubordination and dereliction of duty. Order and obedience are paramount virtues, and it seems that this drow lacks these virtues. He would constitute a deadly risk on any mission. Still, being a disobedient, lollygagger is still better than worshipping demons and summoning devils. Baby steps, Toramin, baby steps.
Out loud, the Paladin continues to bellow for a medic.
As the roaring fireballs destroys the tent, the man outside panics and takes out a knife, trying to take his own life.
When the fireball erupts, Psotheos can’t help but flinch as the roar and heat rush past him and the man. Stepping away as fire devours the tent, the young man’s jaw goes slack as the spectacle distracts him. He thinks he hears the half-minotaur’s voice over the flames. Psotheos refocuses his attention on the assassin just he pulls out a knife to commit suicide. A single thought floods his mind, Keep him alive, as he attempts to stab the man in a non-vital area.
Toramin
It doesn't take long for a cleric to find his way to your side. He kneels down and passing a glowing hand over the unconscious man, then orders two soldiers to pick him up and get him to a healers tent. He turns to the dwarf "That patch job probably saved his life. The broken bone ruptures an artery"
Psotheos
You attempt to stab the man through his arm so he can't end his own life, but he's too quick for you. The dagger enters underneath his ribs and he gasps, falling to his knees.
"Thank you, priest. It was more Torag's smile than any skill on my part. Please make sure that he is securely bound. He will be wanted for questioning when he awakens. I was wounded slightly. If there are none more urgently injured, I would appreciate some healing."
Toramin
The cleric asks you to show him the wound, and after a moment he casts a spell and places a hand over the wound. You feel the muscle knit itself together, leaving nothing but smooth skin behind "Was nothing too serious, only the muscle was hit"
All
Things are beginning to calm down as sweeps of the area continue. It appears the only objective of this attack is to try and assassinate Colonel Geoffrey. Men are told to go to their tents and finish resting for the night as they still planned on attacking in the morning.
An investigation is launched , and to nobodies surprise they are men of Xilres. The leader of the distraction group and the man outside Geoffrey's tent are still alive and being questioned. You are all called as witnesses, asked to tell your story. The leader, by the name of Vrael, refuses to say anything, claiming he would rather die than betray his country. The younger soldier, Gemini, looks scared to death and he's still in shock from the self inflicted wound.
Eventually all of you are brought to a healers tent, where Colonel Geoffrey sits bare chested as a frustrated looking cleric prods at his wound. "Welcome, no need to salute, I can't raise my arm anyways. So, what we know, and what you are aware of, is that there was a small group of soldiers sent to cause a distraction to a pair of men could steal into my tent and kill me. What we don't know is how these two men got into the camp without being noticed" He grunts as the cleric prods deeper into the wound, sending a red line of bloody down his chest "What we know and you don't yet is this" He holds up a scroll, the same one the man used to kill himself "Once the scroll was used we could no longer identify the writing on it, but most government tracked scrolls have an identifying mark if you hold them over a candle." A priest walks up, summoning a small flame in his hand "See this green mark? This marks it as one of our own. A transmuter in the army." He glances at Dalton "Don't worry you're not suspected of anything. There are only 3 transmuters of high enough rank to have their scrolls marked like this. Shen, Fenrir, and Alice." The cleric mumbles under his breath and casts a healing spell, but you see no noticeable change in the wound "I'm not sure who is involved in this treachery, but I am assured you six are not. I want you to go and speak with these three, try and find out if any of them have something to hide"
CLW
Bjorkus, still quite badly burned, snorts at Geoffrey’s explanation. Traitors were the worst. An enemy you expect to try to kill you.
”So you’ve got a traitor in your midst”, he rumbles. ”And you want us to suss him out. You think he’s actin’ alone?”
While he waits for an answer, the bull studies the other five brought in. Two he’d met but three were new - a dwarf with a long-handled hammer, an overfed half-elf that looked noticeably uncomfortable, and a dark elf. Quite the collection of little soldiers, he thinks with another snort.
Gabriel grimaces as he looks down at the wound. He should have been quicker on the up take. Maybe then the Colonel wouldn't have suffered such a blow. Instead, he lead six men on a goose chase out into the hills. He was trying to make up for it now though. It was possible that none of the three he spoke of were involved. It could be another feint, designed to have them looking where they shouldn't. "As well, should we question whoever does the tracking and logging of such scrolls? If they have access to the seals that is?"
Even then Gabriel realized a seal could have just been stolen and he turns away and tries to shake off such thoughts. There was such a thing as over thinking things. He would turn to the group as Colonel Geoffrey is being prodded to say quickly, "Whichever we decide to question first we should probably stick together. We could send two at a time too question each so none has time for preparation, but I suggest asking for some guards to be watched on all three instead. If we divide ourselves like that then we risk yet another trap and not having the numbers to deal with it."
Gabriel only had the faintest understanding of what such magicians could do, having little to no experience with the arcane at all.
"This person is not working alone, as you can see from the body count tonight. But I don't know if they are the only traitor or not. Right now we're concerned with getting to the bottom of the scroll" Geoffrey manages a smile between the pain "They don't know we mark them. It's a measure we take to make sure our casters don't abuse their power. They have no idea we can track it" The cleric casts a much more complicated spell, and a bright green flash emanates from Geoffrey's shoulder. Suddenly you see a matrix of green across the inside of the wound. "Oh by Sarenrae's fire, that's a good spell" He frowns "I can't heal this. I don't have the power. I can seal it and keep you from bleeding to death, but I doubt you'll be able to use your arm for a while" Geoffrey listens quietly, then nods "Understood. I'll try to stay in the back. And yes, you will have a dozen men with you as you go around investigating. These wizards are powerful, but they can't take on fifteen well armed men at short range"
"We should split up then. If they catch wind that we're on to them, they might try to flee. Nothing's as craven as a traitor."
"Where are these three camped?"
Glad they didn't kill him. That would have been a shame. He is the best human I have met.
"As you command, Colonel. I doubt you would have chosen us if you had better investigators, but as my father says, 'sometimes you only have a screwdriver when you need a hammer.' Please appoint someone to be in charge of this special investigation, so that there is a clear chain of command on this mission. I know next to nothing of investigation, and the only thing that would make this worse is if there were six know-nothings all thinking he knew best. We only need one blind person in the lead." the dwarf said with a blunt but friendly smile.
That was interesting. Not only had Geoffrey told them something way above most of their ranks, he had explicitly told him it was a secret. He was putting his faith into this group. Gabriel wanted to stay, and wished he had trained more so that he could understanding or even help with the healing, but neither want nor wish would get him any where. His tail twitched, and for once he didn't have that nervous energy boiling over in him. Just a calm, steady determination. "Alright then. The sooner the better." He glances to the others to see if they have any questions or insight.
And Toramin proved to have some insight to something that would not have crossed Gabriels mind. The group was new, and while he trusted each of them as Geoffrey did, it was true that all of them probably had their own thoughts on how to go about this. The large minotaur proved that right with his next words, and Gabriel had too with his questions.
"What is the spell causing Geoffrey's wound? Do you know the origin of the weapon which caused it?" Lindale asks the cleric, hoping there might be some clue for him.
The cleric looks you up and down for a moment, but without Geoffrey saying anything about you he waves you over and points at the green pattern "All I can identify is it's arcane, and it's necromancy. Plus every time I try to heal the wound the magic responds, having much the effect if I were being counter-spelled. I know of some spells that could break such a cursed wound, but they are beyond my own power"
Geoffrey listens to the cleric, nodding his head before responding to the others. "I will put Lindale in charge, for no other reason than he's good at it. These are problems he's adept to deal with" He grunts as the cleric tries another spell. "Tiasar will show you were they can be found" He inclines his head to the elf, who approaches and inclines his head slightly.
Bjorkus finishes wrapping a large bandage around his burned brawny torso and then awkwardly buckles his ill-fitting armor on.
”Let’s get it over with then”, he rumbles. ”The lady’s welcome to handle the talkin’. I’m just here to bust heads.”
The cleric turns and examines the burn wounds on Bjorkus, raising his eyebrows I'm surprised you're still alive, much less standing." His hand glows a light blue and he passes it over the worst of the burn marks. He then goes back over it one more time, and you feel life return to the aching seared flesh.
Bjorkus snorts dismissively, playing off the severity of his injuries. ”It’ll take more than a lil’ magic fire to kill me.”
When it’s done, he gingerly touches the newly mended flesh with meaty digits. He offers the cleric a nod of thanks, only mildly annoyed at the patches of dark bare flesh where his dense body hair had burned away. Buckling his poorly-fitted armor on after he’s healed is a great deal simpler.
Lindale nods to the Colonel, accepting the task. "Let's start with the closest transmuter." He looks at Dalton, not having met the man before, "You are a transmuter also, do you have a way to help uncover the traitor here?"
Such grisly wounds! It make Dalton faint of heart (though not faint of stomach). People in the military shrugged pain off so easily! Then his name was mentioned - first by the colonel and then by the Drow. In two breaths, he was both too inept to be considered a possibility for betrayal yet the hinge on which discovering these traitors relied. Having one's cake and eating it too, I see!
"Well, I sadly think the colonel has the right of it: These are mages a bit beyond my ken. A counterspelling wound isn't something I'd know how to begin to create!" He shakes his head, cheeks quivering slightly. "But ... if my childhood is any measure of their nature, I'd say the way to find them is much simpler. Those willing to sacrifice themselves so willingly for an end are either overly proud or overly desperate. Given our posture in the siege ... I'd say both." Dalton waves his arm to indicate the camp. "Burning fires, interior clashes ... whether it be honor or glory, these men will leap at any chance they see to stop us, no matter how small a window it may be. Or what the risk is to themselves." He looked Geoffery in the eyes. He lowered his voice. "If they knew you were badly injured - but not done-for - by this attack and thought they'd have another chance at their target, I'd bet my mother's mantle they'd take it. We just need to let them know where and when this window is open - and be ready for them." He looked around at the half-dozen surrounding him. "If it sounds too risky, I understand. At any rate, I don't know this Shen, Alice, or Fenrir, but I'd imagine keeping an eye on them couldn't hurt either."
Shen
Shen is an elven wizard who keeps mostly to himself. He often stays in his tent for days, hiding behind piles of books. If you strike up a conversation he's fairly pleasant, particularly if you have intelligent conversation to offer. He is the army's go-to for large movement of earth and giving strike forces magical enhancements.
Fenrir
A human, eccentric and outgoing as Shen is quiet. There's a respectful distance given around his tent, and it is well warranted as the occasional explosion or other interesting reactions are often emanating from his tent. Of the wizards he is the most modern one, and he spends much time researching the application of magic, alchemy, and technology mixing with each other. He has come up with a few siege weapons and explosives that the army uses, and is very popular with the dwarves.
Alice
Another human, she is a well kept individual who is often a go-by-the-books soldier. She is fantastically young for her position, rising in ranks quickly due to her research in the fields of abjuration. She is many officers favorites, as she does things quickly, efficiently, and without any eccentrics most other wizards bring with them. Although if you are magically inclined you find her knowledge of the inter-workings of the manifestations of spells is superb.
Gabriel steps forward then. The round elf'ss words had brought to mind Geoffrey's attempts at teaching the tiefling different avenue's of catching criminals. Truth was, the paladin in training doubted that Geoffrey intended for him to always be a soldier. "Dalton right? I think we can actually take that idea one step further. You see, just letting it slip that Geoffrey is injured isn't enough. If all three knew that, they may very well just send another assassin, one who would be just as unwilling to talk. No... no to really figure out which one is the spy we'd have to lay three separate traps, one for each. The people who question them must let slip inadvertently three different pieces of information, locations of where Geoffrey would be for these traps. Perhaps they happen all at once, but there's a chance there is more then one traitor, so different times as well would avoid suspicion in case there are."
Gabriel turns to Lindale then, "My suggestion, sir, is that if we do lay a trap, we go the extra mile. We'll know who is the traitor by which trap is sprung, because only they will have been let known that particular location."
Bjorkus listens to the others speak. The furless pups sure talked a lot. After the teifling mentions a trap, the minotaur pipes in.
"And what kinda trap are you plannin'?" Bjorkus asks. "These mens are wizards - they're clever. Better we strike now, while they're countin' on the chaos from the attack."
Gabriel nods, "Indeed, that is best. Something quick and dirty. But the thing is, if we're too quick, they'll just run or set something on fire or explode. Again." He glances at the bull's burn injuries, "And unfortunately most of us aren't as tough as you are. Or we may end up revealing our hand. I'd say something like... 'Geoffrey is going out into the hills' for one, 'Geoffrey is investigating the remains of his tent' for the second, and 'Geoffrey is checking the secret passage we made' for the last or something. We can plan on the area's and limit their abilities based on what we know of their strengths."
Toramin stands back and listens, happy that there is some sort of order to these proceedings. He may have his issues with the drow, but the man was clever. A clear mind could synthesize these ideas into a coherent plan.
At Gabriel's last comment, Toramin nods. "Whatever we tell them we need to prepare each field, so that if one does prove traitorous -- he or she -- can be contained with minimal loss of life."
Gabriel's extension was not a bad one. "You'll need someone in the know with each of them to relay that information, someone they trust and isn't seen as a newcomer. Unfortunately, I fall in the latter group."
The plan coming together, Dalton turned his attention to the knife wound.
"That is if they come themselves. Remember, if there is a traitor, they chose to act through others last time. The whole point of the divergent traps is that they may not come themselves so we have to be careful not to over think things too much." Gabriel considers what they knew carefully, then looks to the Drow.
After thinking over the different ideas the others were offering, Lindale formulated a plan. "Colonel, can we be sure that only 1 of them is the traitor? If they are working together, three different traps fail, they will know that something is up."
Geoffrey sits back, about to raise up his hand to rest his chin then stops as his shoulder twists "I don't know. They don't seem to talk to each other much, but that can just be a facade" He frowns "I remember talking to Shen once, I was asking about cover for my archers during the siege of Baltar. I mentioned Fenrir was bringing a new type of projectile into play, and I could tell Shen didn't care much for the man. You know it's not hard to be accepted in the forces as a spellcaster. They're useful. It is hard to advance through the ranks though, the requirements are extremely stiff. Those three have been in competition for years. If I had to guess I'd would say if anything there's a deep seated rivalry between them"
After having a moment to study the auras and their implications, Dalton announced his findings to the group. "Good news and bad news, colonel." While informal with Geoffrey alone, Dalton knew his manners when with others. "Your wound won't get any worse; there is simply a magical presence blocking blood and sinew where you were cut. This means it also won't fester as there's no room for any swelling." Dalton added that last corollary as an afterthought, but it seemed to hold.
"The bad news is, well ... the block is still there. It also won't get any better until it's dispelled. An abjurer would be best to seek for that, and I confess I'm too novice to aid you. Sorry." Dalton's thoughts turn inward a moment before wetting his lips with his tongue and continuing in a lower voice. "The block is also abjuration magic, and such ingenuity would suggest a specialist had a hand in this. If it were one of the three you mentioned, I've heard that's Alice's area of interest. Fenrir might have had the innovation to create a new sort of projectile, but that's not the same kind of magic, and as you said yourself, it's hard to advance, so trying to make new edges in on others is something I'd guess they would do. I even dabble around with experiments on my own, and I'm not even looking at becoming a battlemage!" Allowing himself to smile briefly, the jovial disposition soon left Dalton's face.
"My coin would say Alice is helping them if any of those casters are."
Standing with his arms crossed in the tent with Colonel Geoffrey and the others, Psotheos feels inadequate. He was practically useless in combat. The night air is cool against his bare chest. His shoulders slump, and he stares at his feet as they talk about traitors and cowards. Which one of these people will be the first to call me craven? So focused on his inner turmoil he misses most of what the half-elf says concerning the wound.
”Pardon me,” he says clasping his hands behind his back and renouncing the slouch he was in. ”If we’re going to confront Alice I would like a shirt and my armor. I will be gone for a few minutes and return to you here.” There is no mistaking the sound of Xilres in his accent. He starts heading for the tent’s exit.
"Do you think that dagger you picked up is similar to the one used to stab the Colonel, Lindale?" Toramin rumbles
"What would any of them have to gain by you being killed? That is my final question."
Lindale turns to Dalton, "Since you are the most arcane gifted of us, I suggest you and I go to question the three. We find out what we can from them, baiting the trap in the process. Hopefully we can figure out who it is while questioning them. We can tell them that Geoffrey trusts them and needs their help finding the traitor among the other two. Hopefully one will slip up and reveal something." When he finishes he turns and speaks to the rest. "The rest of you will set up the trap. Only 1 location is best. Only the traitor will try to have you killed again, no need to split up so much. Whoever appears in the trap is taken as quickly as spossible. We must try to convince them to act quickly before the Colonel is back up on his feet, they may rush and not be prepared to meet their end. These are smart magicians after all. Do not underestimate them. Colonel, I want you to be desparate, shaken over this attempt. To foolishly put yourself seemingly in a situation that leaves you unprotected as far as they are concerned. Inspecting the tunnel one last time might do it."
Lindale nods at Toramin, "I plan to use them to catch the traitor off guard. They will lie. I will know. May i have the dagger used against you Colonel?"