"I know little of magic, but I know something of making. If these daggers share the same enchantment, and if this enchantment is rare as master Dalton believes, then it stands to reason that they were crafted by the same person. Not only are people loathe to share their secrets but also such artifice is not common. More telling, and more useful, is if we could isolate any mystical commonalities between the two daggers, a hint that would betray their maker. Some smiths leave makers marks, but even if they did not, it is not impossible to recognize a smith by his handiwork. Would it be possible to compare these two daggers with an enchanted item crafted by the three suspects? If such mystical 'markers' exist, it would be a boon to us."
After about ten minutes, Psotheos returns wearing a chain shirt with the standard Andril army tabard over it. His hair looks combed and his face washed free of the the dirt, sweat, and grime from the fight. He settles into the space he occupied before.
Once the plan is settled on, he speaks, bowing slightly, ”I believe introductions are in order. I am Lord Psotheos Arjax. Yes, a son of Xilres though I spent some of my youth in Andril and most of it in Brumik. Rest assured I have no love for the king and agreed to aid Colonel Geoffrey as a means to end this war quickly. You may think I’m a coward and a traitor. That is your right. I discern a difference between the king and the kingdom. My loyalty lies with the latter. Please address me as Arjax.” He bows again and looks expectantly at the others.
It is the inner voices that condemn us the most loudly. This human seems more intent on convincing himself than he does us, Toramin thinks in response to Arjax's unsolicited explanation of his circumstances.
Gabriel glances down to the dwarf, then sighs and shakes his head just a little. He could probably guess what was going through Tormain's head. "My name is Gabriel. I Sir Geoffrey's squire and paladin apprentice. I have already sworn my Oath's to Iomedae, however."
He does not mention he is from Xilres as well. Truth be told, it just didn't cross his mind. He turns to Lindale. "Sir, it is likely that their motivation stems from simple greed of power or money. Surely the corrupt king is offering quite a bounty on someone like Sir Geoffrey, whose death would cause a great deal of confusion in the army. And if they send other assassins, simply one trap won't tell us anything and the risk will be for naught. We have no guarantee that they themselves will attack, especially since we don't know what sort of people they have to call upon still."
|
Now Tiasar is the one to speak up "Yes you may see the dagger, but do not lose it. We still need it as evidence". He contemplates the dwarfs comment for a moment, then tries to answer in a way that makes sense to a non magic user "That would be a rather long process. It would be a simple matter to compare the spell to one of the exact same kind, such as a cure spell to a cure spell, but I doubt they have more weapons with this particular enchantment lying around. It is still possible, but we would have to look for obscure connections between other spells, more of their style than anything else" He shakes his head "It is a good idea, but too time consuming"
”It doesn’t much matter why they’re traitors”, Bjorkus says with a snort. ”A traitors a traitor and needs to be dealt with. You're playin' a dangerous game with this complicated trap business.”
The half-minotaur stands up at his full towering height briefly to flex his brawny shoulders, clad uncomfortably in his ill-fitting armor.
”The name’s Bjorkus”, the bull adds.
Pulled out of his rumination by Gabriel's words and Bjorkus' bizarre flexing and posturing, Toramin realized that he was being rude. "Toramin Gearsmith, at your service."
The tiefling glances at the armor the bull was wearing, then sighs just a little. Gabriel remembered his first couple weeks wearing armor that didn't account for the fact that he had a fricking tail! "If you want, I can introduce you to the blacksmith that worked on my helm-" He knocks on the helm he currently wore around his belt. "The guy does pretty good refits, though I don't think he understands my horns go into different patterns."
”I’ve met ‘im”, Bjorkus rumbles with another awkward stretch. ”But there’s no time for a proper fitting.”
"I do not believe that they will just have assassins lying around. Plans take time to be formed. I was of the opinion that because of the time limit, we take the city tomorrow, they will be forced to get personally involved. If we have 3 traps they must be believable."
"Does it need to be three elaborately planned traps? I think the lad is suggesting varying the details slightly. In each place we could have a "Colonel Geoffrey" waiting with some help from Master Tiasar. Tell Alice that he has gone to the tunnels. Tell and the two others the west and the east sides of camp respectively. Fifteen hidden crossbowmen at each location coupled with a few clerics who can cast Silence could help neutralize the threat."
Geoffrey shakes his head "We can't lend you that many resources. Many of those spellcasters are trying to get their rest before tomorrows battle. Tiasar can help you however necessary, and Frederick (the cleric) can as well. Beyond that, you are on your own"
"Something simpler then, with a shorter time frame at each point so that instead of three groups we only need one. We can have them with just enough time between each to move between them." Gabriel already guessed that he wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight. "We need someone cloaked to act as our Geoffrey, with one of us remaining in the open and the rest taking the time to find hiding spots. Then we wait for the window and move on. We have three locations Sir Geoffrey could reasonably want to be as well. The ruins of his tent, the tunnels, and the hills. Everyone knows how Sir Geoffrey tends to..." He glances at his mentor, then coughs just a little before continuing, "Over work himself, so it probably won't be a surprise for anyone that knows of him to hear that despite a bad injury, he's up and about. Sorry... sir."
Gabriel turns his attention quickly back to the group before he lost them again. Or his own train of thought. "Our best bet, I think, is to have Lord Arjaz cloaked and silent, observing each scene. I'll stand beside him, trying to coax him back to the healers tent or on the side waiting to offer aid. I'm his squire so no one will be surprised, and I'm not exactly known for being observant. We can start at the tent with the first, the tunnel for the second, and then make our way to the hills with the third. Sir Geoffrey, may we borrow any of your effects to add to the disguise?"
He glances at his mentor again and waits for the answer before turning back to the group one last time. "We don't necessarily need someone they trust. We just need someone recognizable within the army. I'm... honestly a horrible liar, and I would say Toramin is no better then I with deceit. But anyone serving, perhaps, as a messenger or something could go to them, ask after their status for tomorrow's battle for Sir Geoffrey, and accidentally let drop a couple hints that they'll eventually be 'returning to lord Geoffrey at this location and time'. Maybe even grumble about the fact that he can't seem to stop working despite his horrid injury." He stops, glances at his mentor again, and sheepishly apologizes a second time. "Er, sorry again Sir. But you honestly do... work a lot."
Bjorkus nods.
Lindale should handle settin’ the traps. Her kind have a knack for deception”, the manotaur rumbles. ”The rest of us’ll be waitin’ at the trap sites.”
"3 locations then. Here, the tunnel and the location Toramin and I came across the other soldiers. All of us at each for 15 minutes."
Gabriel nods in agreement, "No offense Sir. Er, Miss?" He blinks, and tries to observe the elf a little more closely. He really should have paid better attention in his lessons. "But of the group, I don't think it's really a matter of choice. Bjorkus is... Bjorkus it seems, Toramin and I are about as likely to convince someone of a lie as we are to convince the sun to rise earlier, and we'll need Psotheos ready and waiting as Sir Geoffrey's double since he's the only human in the group. Can't really hide horns, ears, tails or height as well as you can a slightly different build and complexion."
Gabriel nods in agreement. Fifteen minutes was a short enough window to inspire hast and rashness, but large enough still for some prep work on both their end and the assassins end. "That sounds perfect Miss! Er, sir?"
”That’s the plan. You wanna escort?” the half-minotaur asks with a raised brow. ”You know, in case the traitor catches on and tries to off ya?”
Geoffrey grunts as he tries to raise his arm again "As long as I get it back you can take whatever you need"
Lindale sighed. "Stop with the miss! The joke is over. Has no one seen a Drow before?.. "
Lindale shook his head and turned his attention to the plan. "Dalton and I will speak to the three while the rest of you disguise our noble here as the colonel. When we return we wait at each location for 15 minutes. I will be on the lookout in the whadows for anyone approaching. Make sure to prepare any magical defences before we return."
Dalton listens with relative quiet as plans are minced. Amazing how proficient in backstabbing some people are. And Arjax was anathema to him. Well-born, haughtily-mannered, and so ... unscathed by life. "Lord" indeed. We will see...
As ideas got tossed about, Dalton cleared his throat. "Since we're introducing ourselves, I am Dalton, though I'm no master, contrary to my friend's flattery there," he says, gesturing towards Toramin. "The Drow seems to have a knack for this sort of dealing, so I bow to his expertise. We oughtn't waste a lick more time though!"
He wasn't often a hasty person, but Dalton heard this quickly becoming a case of too many cooks in the kitchen. Besides, a counterbluff so quick may work to their advantage.
Shen
Tiasar directs you to a plain tent that has a few piles of books on the outside. As you enter there is a few magical sources of light floating near the top of the tent, and you see a small elf with dark hair dressed in blue. He seems completely absorbed in a text which you cannot decipher the language of, and after somebody clears their throat he looks up. "Oh, hello. I didn't notice you there. Didn't expect anybody at this hour, especially with how busy things are lately. I don't sleep much you see." His glance at Lindale has the usual suspicion directed at drow, but none of the hatred or fear that normally accompanies elves. He puts a petrified leaf in the book to mark his place and closes it "I don't believe we have met before, to who and for what purpose do I owe the pleasure?"
Fenrir
You approach a tent that has multiple patchworks of various designs and colors in it. As you look around you can see there are holes and burns in the landscape, as well as some odd looking plants growing. One in particular, a large yellow and purple lily, seems to turn and follow your movement. Right as you are about to close the rest of the distance you hear a faint sizzling followed by a pop...pop pop, and then a large orange crackle of energy erupts from the tent and you see a figure thrown out in your direction. He flips over two or three times, coming to a rest on his but with hair blown in every direction and face blackened. He sits utterly still for a moment, then raises his arms triumphantly and cries out "Success! Oh did you see that! Marvelous display of energy, simply enthralling. I daresay I'll have to get that part replaced again...oh my Hrolf won't be thrilled about that, but what progress!" He starts walking back to his tent (a little haphazardly, it seems like his hearing and sense of balance have been effected by the energy blast), then stops and pivots on one foot to face you "Oh my, you weren't just passing by were you. Oh how rude, do come in, do come in! I promise it's safe, I mean there's only about a thirty percent chance of a relapse, but I'm sure it's perfectly fine! Tea anybody?" And with that you are all ushered into the tent and prepared a pot of tea, bubbling noisily with a smell you can't quite identify.
Alice
A tent modestly embroidered meets your gaze, and a single dwarven guard stands outside of it. He places himself in front of the entrance and plants his halberd stubbornly in the ground (seemingly un-threatened by how he is outnumbered) and asks what your business is. After asking for an audience with Alice, he hrumphs into his beard, then raises his hand and speaks into a ring. After a moment the ring glows a faint yellow, and he steps aside to let you in. Inside there are a dozen tacticians and officers, including Alice sitting at the far end. At your entrance she inclines her head to acknowledge your arrival, then turns to the men sitting before her "We shall continue this tomorrow after the siege. I see no more noticeable progress being made until we take temporary control of the city anyways." The men nod and mumble their agreements or shake their head in annoyance, but eventually they all grab their things and leave. Alice waits for them all to depart, then gestures at the now open seats "Please sit. I was just discussing how we are to distribute our forces after taking the outer wall." She folds her hands "Now I'm certain you would not request my audience at this time unless it was something serious. What do you need?"
As they walked to the first rendezvous, Dalton whispered to Lindale: "Keep the dagger hidden on you until they mention something about how Geoffrey was injured. I'll try to be vague and see if they say more than they should know."
Seeing the logic of posing as Colonel Geoffrey, Psotheos doesn’t give any resistance to the idea. ”Will his cloak suffice, or should I don his armor as well?” he asks in an Andril accent, attempting to sound like the Colonel, deepening his voice slightly and giving it an edge. It helped that both were used to giving orders and being obeyed.
He lays his rapier, longbow, and quiver in the corner. Psotheos’s fingers hesitate above Geoffrey’s belt and sword. Finally he straps it on, asking Gabriel, ”Is this correct, Squire?” He chuckles. ”Does he normally call you squire?” The young man practices his vocal mimcry more, reciting the only prayer to Abadar he knows, a brief selection from The Manual of City-Building. ”The importance of laying a strong foundation is very inspiring. I plan on raising great buildings.” Psotheos strides around the room, practicing a paladin’s walk. Formal, deliberate, and strong.
”Indeed I’d like an escort, Bjorkus. If there’s another fireball, at least you’d survive to tell my family what happened.” His accent clearly needs much more practice. He emphasizes the wrong syllable in half the words. Vowels are either too long, too short, or a dipthong when a single sound is required.
Geoffrey shakes his head and smiles "Arjax! You're walking like you got a pike up your ass. I'm a paladin not a king. Put the emphasis on the end of the word, not the beginnings. Draw out those vowels, like this. And you can shorten that." His face straitens out a bit "And my family is dead. Somebody will hear you saying that and know you're an imposter"
Gabriel shakes his head, "He usually just addresses me as Gabriel unless I've done something wrong. Like that time I accidentally... er... you don't need to know about that." Typically Gabriel wouldn't know enough about a person to suggest anything in this regard, but Geoffrey had been teaching him for four years, about everything from combat to politics to even learning how to write (whatever the point for that last one was). Gabriel absorbed maybe the basics, if he was lucky, but there was one thing he did catch onto eventually. The Paladins behavior, how he walked and talked and so on. Gabriel even noticed things about Geoffrey that Geoffrey probably hadn't noticed, simply because there was little way for a man to notice such things about himself.
He reaches out and adjusts the sword as well on the nobles belt as well. A longsword was heavier then a rapier and took just a little more to draw it, so someone wearing it typically had to wear it at an angle rather then the more formal straight along the leg to free it from its scabbard more easily. "You will need to move a little stiffly, but like you're trying to hide it. Remember, he was injured, and we need to get that across lest we simply reveal our hand before anyone ever attacks. Try to under play it, but you're movements should hint at it at least once in a while." He nods to Geoffrey, "He's not wincing every time he moves, but I honestly think that's just because Sir Geoffrey has gone through worse before."
Gabriel turns his attention to the paladin now and glances at the mans shoulder. He wished he had his helmet on to hide the involuntary wince that crossed his features. If he had been quicker on the uptake, maybe he would have figured things out. But no, he was an air head, and it may have cost his mentor his arm. They had time before the two 'messengers' got back and tomorrow they went to war. Gabriel had to say it now. "Sir... I want to... apologize for..."
Geoffrey looks at Gabriel for a moment, smiling at the incident, then contemplating the third person perspective about himself. He speaks softer now, as if he's speaking to a group of friends rather than a group of men under his command "I have haven't I? Tell you what. Take the wall clean tomorrow and I'll tell you about how I handled the Battle at Gameds Hill, deep in the barbarians forest"
Toramin lays his hand on Gabriel's arm and silently shakes his head. Humans always seem to think that they are the axis upon which the world tilts. It is a bemusing condition, but this young paladin should not get in the habit of assuming responsibility for the actions of wicked people. As he grows up, he will come to know the weight of his own choices and responsibilities.
Toramin's musing bring to mind a saying of his people: your stone is heavy enough.
Gabriel blinks, then wordlessly nods. He was certain Geoffrey knew what he was going to apologize for, the man was to quick on the uptake not to notice, and Gabriel thought the change of subject before he could do so a way of telling him it wasn't necessary. This thought is confirmed by Toramin's gesture, and for the first time since he had joined Geoffrey he felt not like a child being taught and but like an equal being guided. "I've only heard what the other soldiers have said about that battle, and so far every story seems different from the last. I look forward to it." He nods, his voice a bit less formal then it had been a moment ago when speaking to Geoffrey. Even the tell tale Sir was missing this time. The man believed Gabriel could do it. He had said so earlier, but now it really, actually hit him. He turns back to Psotheos, determined not to loose focus tonight. "Alright, one last thing I should probably mention about how he acts around others..." Gabriel continues to bring up small points only a squire would notice, careful to speak of those that would help with the disguise and the mans stance. It was surprising how many small details there were to notice about any given individual.
Bjorkus hunkers down behind the best cover he could find. The position was made even more uncomfortable by his armor, tugging at his chest hair and squeezing his shoulders. The bull tries not to squirm, such a movement might give away his location.
Did my father ever have to pull off something like this? I know he had his own trials along the way to pirate lord fame. I've heard the story of how he conquered Tidewater Rock and earned the favor of Quent's priestess a dozen times. Nobody ever tells the stories where the minotaur spends half an hour hiding under a bale of hay.
The minotaur scratches himself as he ponders.
Toramin's own part in all of this plotting was a small one. Judging from the reactions to his suggestions, he was clearly deep in a mine without a canary. But that was all right. He was here to observe. Geoffrey, though, would live to see this through if the dwarf had anything to say about it.
Psotheos follows Gabriel’s instructions closely. Subtly shifting his stance, holding his arm as if injured, imagining it is hurt and every moment is teeth grinding pain. As if pain he practices speaking in terse sentences peppered with stifled groans and sharp intakes of breath. He shortens his stride slightly taking weary steps. ”Better? Ungh." He struggles to put the cloak’s hood up with one hand but finally manages to do it. "Are we. Ready?”
Shen
Shen listens quietly, then looks surprised as you both finish. "I wasn't aware his condition was so serious. An enchanted weapon you say? May I see it?" He takes a moment to look at it, then starts explaining much the same as what Dalton discovered "Do you wish me to come see the wound? I'm not much of a healer."
Fenrir
The pot finishes steaming as you finish what you are saying. He pours it out into a few cups, an orange liquid with green bubbles, quite a phenomenon. The few who dare taste it find it a spicy pumpkin flavor. "Ha! How badly is he wounded? I swear you could cut his head off and he'd insist on finishing the siege tomorrow." He takes a sip of the 'tea' "Honestly I try to avoid the politics of the modern age. I keep my discoveries coming out and they keep my funding coming in. I wouldn't have the first idea"
Alice
Alice folds her arms, looking slightly concerned "Traitors are the worst kind of enemy. I'm not the head of divination magic but I still have a respectful amount of knowledge in the area. You can tell him I will be there within a half hour"
Lindale shows him the weapon, "Have you ever seen this before?"
Lindale shows him the weapon, "A wound that won't heal, done by this, have you ever seen this before?"
"Thankyou, one more thing, the weapon," Lindale shows her the weapon, "Have you ever seen this before?"
Shen
Shen looks at it a moment, identifying it then he shakes his head
Fenrir
"Yes I know what a dagger is! I'm a wizard not a hermit! Well I'm a hermit to, but that doesn't mean I never leave my studies!"
Alice
Alice turns the dagger over once or twice, then goes to a book case on her wall and finds a book of weapons. "Seems to be of Xilres make. Nothing out of the ordinary about the weapon itself, although the enchantment is a very fine piece of work. Can't say I've seen it"
Lindale thanks them all for their help and ensures them that no further aid is neccessary.