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She turns to Sir Grimold. “As the only one of us who ever had actual criminal connections, perhaps you can advise us. What should be done with two unrepentant thieves, who’ve irrevocably stolen each other’s hearts?”
Grimold rolls his eyes at the lovebirds. At this rate, Zohruk would be reduced to a domesticated farmer living on a ranch with thirteen cows before the month was out, hadrly of any use in a rescue mission. "In my professional opinion, you are both guilty of the far worse crime of stealing my breakfast." Placing a hand on his stomach, he mimes vomiting over the side of his horse.
"You're absolutely right about one thing," he says out loud. "I do have to find a way to make right by Yhrrilka." Zoh looks over at Grimold, whose facial expression has changed to more than a little amused over this whole exchange. "Grimold, man, we should swing up to Burning Sun territory, and you should meet Ril! Oh, this is the best idea ever!"
Strike that. Zohruk wouldn't live to see the ranch. As much fun as it was to joke, the thought of actually meeting this Yhrrilka was terrifying. The only thing Grimold can think of that would be worse is the fear that Zoh might try to set him up with an orc girl. Luckily, there was no reason for them to go near Burning Sun territory on this mission. "Zohruk, my people have a saying. Love makes lambs into wolves and wolves into lambs. It would be a shame for you to throw yourself to a wolf when your spring wool is only just starting to come in."
The words strike her, hard. Taj is transfixed. “The Song of the Spheres?” The idea that a goddess can be the song that her ancestors have been singing... “The more I hear of your goddess, the more I want to learn. Can you tell me more of her stories and mysteries on our journey?”
Grimold smiles at Rataji, encouraged by her eagerness. "There are so many stories to be told! But Desnan tales are best shared under stars' light, so that the Great Dreamer herself might enjoy the telling from her palace atop the Stair of Stars, and bless those who listen with good dreams as they drift off to slumber with the glow of the stars' song still warm in their hearts." He was beginning to look forward to his next watch with a new stargazing companion. Not wanting to let her down entirely, he adds, "But my people have many stories that I could tell you now." He pulls the fox mask out of his saddlebag, holding it out to Rataji. "You wanted to know about my mask? It is just a simple mask from Minkai with the face of a fox, but it always reminded me of the tale of Keaton the Spirit Fox, master thief of the First World. Would you like to hear his story?"
T1 3/7/16
The Precentor writes another note at Taj’s description of the necromantic plague bomb delivery system. ”Lady preserve us” she mutters, shaking her head.
At Daen’s salute she returns it and says. ”Light of Iomedae be with you Knights of Ozem. Swift and blessed journey upon you. Speak to Orren Lokk befor you leave.”
She dismisses you and turns back to her battle plans.
Once you descend and assemble, after a moment of everyone assure Zohruk, a stocky short man with a clean cut goatee and tightly cropped black hair approaches you. He wears a red battle robe and has far finer armor than any you’ve seen here so far.
He speaks in a kind voice, ”Knights, greetings to you. I am High Cleric Lokk, and I have been requested to give you aid.” He bows and pulls forth a sack full of scrolls. ”What I have here, is a ridiculous amount of wind walks. I can get you to that fort in less than an hour, wind permitting. Would you prefer to leave your mounts here or have them wind walk with you? Though I warn you, it is very difficult to control a horse while wind walking.” he laughs a dry chuckle at his own joke.
With your chosen method of travel you depart into Belkzen.
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"Zohruk, my people have a saying. Love makes lambs into wolves and wolves into lambs. It would be a shame for you to throw yourself to a wolf when your spring wool is only just starting to come in."
“Aww, I don’t think you’re givin’ this idea its due, buddy. She’s just a lovely she-wolf that would probably really like to get a little fox in her,” Zohruk says, his smile widening. “You’ve got that wiry build she likes, you’re a liiitle short, but not enough to break the deal, you’re brave as all hell, good with a knife… I don’t see any real downside here. Now, Yhrrilka doesn’t have any brothers, but as her cousin, Haazek would probably step in for the fight...” Zoh notes the alarmed look on Grimold’s face. “What? Just a little tussle with Haazek, you know, a, whaddya call it, a ‘test of mettle,’ yeah. You two throw some punches around, so’s you can show you’re tough enough. I’ve seen you lump up bigger guys than him…!” If that’s actually true, Zohruk can’t recall precisely when it was.
Later in the ride, as Grimold starts talking about Desna, Zoh quiets up, listening as best he can, but trying to not look like he’s listening. Zoh doesn’t always get to see this side of Grimold, and it’s like getting close to a forest animal, I don’t want to spook him off…
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Windwalk? Travel? Through the air? The thought thrills Taj. This could be the closest you'll come to riding those mechano-griffins, Zoh.
“Sir Daen, if I may speak with you a moment?” Taj takes Daen aside. “Sir, I think we’ll need our mounts for the ride back. I know I’m the worst rider here, but I’m good with animals. I think I can keep Igugu calm if someone can tie me into the saddle for the windwalk.”
“In my professional opinion, you are both guilty of the far worse crime of stealing my breakfast.”
“Oh, dear. Have we made you retch-ed?” Rataji grins. “I’m sure you’ll recover quickly.”
“She’s just a lovely she-wolf that would probably really like to get a little fox in her.”
Zoh’s banter with Grimold is amusing, but Taj can’t help feeling for Yhrrilka. “If we’re not careful, all our pelts will be collected. I know how I’d feel if you were taken from me and I was given a substitute -- no matter how attractive -- in your place.” She nods at Grimold. He was a handsome boy, but he wasn’t Zoh. The one who held her heart. The one she loved. “If Ril is anything like me, and you said she was... She’s going to be hurt and pissed. And I’m the one who did this to her...”
“You wanted to know about my mask? It is just a simple mask from Minkai with the face of a fox, but it always reminded me of the tale of Keaton the Spirit Fox, master thief of the First World. Would you like to hear his story?”
Taj grins. “I would love to hear the tale of Keaton the Spirit Fox. Even more, I’d love to hear the tale of Grimold, former criminal turned Knight. And are there tales that you’d like to hear in return? I’m not as gifted a tale-spinner as Tam, but I remember all the tales the old man told me. Maybe we call all share stories?”
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“If we’re not careful, all our pelts will be collected. I know how I’d feel if you were taken from me and I was given a substitute -- no matter how attractive -- in your place.
Zohruk makes the same face he made when Daen tried explaining prime numbers to him. “So there’s an acceptable way to measure your worth weighed against cattle…” Zoh says, pointing to Rataji, “...but I can’t try and introduce Yhrrilka to the guy who’s the Scoundrel Pete to my Robert the Black?” With the other hand, he points to Grimold. Zoh’s frown deepens, and he shakes his head. “And I’m sure I’m the only one who finds that weird, yeah?” Zoh gives a shrug of surrender, and sighs.
Taj, I’ll just apologize now for anything I do to piss you off stemmin’ from what I thought I understood about women.
==========
“Yes, wind walking. A perfectly fine, not-terrifying way to travel. Indeed. I do that all the time, yes yes. I think that’s the way to go, we’ll make faster time that way,” and just maybe have enough time to save the Burning Suns. Zohruk bears down and lets the urgency of the situation overcome any reluctance he has about flying.
“I think I can keep Igugu calm if someone can tie me into the saddle for the windwalk.”
“I gotcha right here.” Zohruk reaches into his haversack and comes up with a length of silk rope. “We’ll cinch you in there, nothin’ to worry about.”
As they left the tent and met the High Priest. Daen rubbed the lone whisker on his chin as he processed the information. He'd heard of wind walking, but that was about it. He needed more information.
"Orren, can you give me more information as to exactly how this spell works? How long does it last, what exactly does it do? Can we take a scroll to the Lord Watcher and use it to bring him home? Can we take the scrolls with us and have a speedy return trip as well? The more fully informed we are, the better we can use the assets we have. I'd trade a few horses to finish our job within the sum of three hours."
When Taj mentioned that it might be good to bring their horses, the swordsman frowned. He'd hoped that Taj might have been able to cast such scrolls, at which he would have taken as many of those scrolls as they were allowed to. "Our primary goal is to rescue the Lord Watcher, even at the cost of our own lives. Time is of the essence in any rescue, and it's going to be far more useful to get there fast than it will be to wait. I also can provide a few horses in a pinch, as you well know."
Orren also tapped his chin. "The work by transmuting the user or target into semi tangible, lighter than air mist, which can move as directed at up to sixty miles an hour, air conditions permitting. As for taking them, sure. I'm just uncertain if you could use them without blowing ourselves up. I scribed these myself, and they are of the upper 3rd tier for cleric spells and scribed at twice the normal strength." He strokes his chin again.
"Are any of you capable of using the dancing light cantrip? If so I could divine the outside of the fort every hour or so to check for you. Just arrange the lights as if someone were looking down from above, and Indicate that you have the lord watcher."
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Taj turns to Daen. “I won’t lie. I’m a terrible rider and probably better off when not on a horse. Still, I’m loathe for us to close off options. Can we do both? Take the scrolls and the horses? Though if you’re sure you can get us enough mounts later...” She hopes that Daen, who is fairly sharp, will catch her main concern. How else will we get Zohruk to his people in time?
Taj looks at the Orren. “May I see the scroll for a moment, Orren?” Taj studies the scroll, feeling the divine power radiating from it. “Yes, it’s powerful magic. Still, my chances of casting the spell, though not perfect, are really quite good. I cannot help with Dancing Lights, however...” She looks curiously at Daen. “Can you?”
As Zohruk approaches with the silk rope, she blushes. Is this another orcish courtship ritual?
. “So there’s an acceptable way to measure your worth weighed against cattle… but I can’t try and introduce Yhrrilka to the guy who’s the Scoundrel Pete to my Robert the Black?”
Taj raises an eyebrow. How can someone so bright be so clueless? “Introduce them? Fine. Offer Grimold up like a consolation prize? No way!”
Besides, there is a certain blonde knight that he may be far more interested in... You’ve seen how he looks at Kassie, right?
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When they leave the hut Kassie runs over to Zohruk and envelopes him in a hug, stepping back to let Grimold and Daen forward to offer their own commiserations. After Daen speaks she adds to what he said "Don't worry Zohruk. I'm sure we'll be able to convince him to let us help your people, we'll find a way."
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Is this another orcish courtship ritual?
Zohruk freezes two steps from Rataji, likewise blushing hard enough that he almost turns the shade of an avocado. After a second, though, he just bursts out laughing, eventually having to steady himself against Rataji and her horse. Smiling, he loops the rope around her waist a few times, just a bit more fumble-fingered than he’d have expected, and ties it off against her saddlehorn, tucking the extra into the saddlebag.
“OK now, if things get crazy enough that you have to get off, you cut here,” he points to one of the strands of rope. “But only if you’ve got to, ‘kay? Now all of you, remember this: Monkey, holds on to girl. Girl, holds on to horse. Horse, listens to girl. Everyone have that?”
He looks up at her, and his face brightens again. Thanks, I needed that.
“Introduce them? Fine. Offer Grimold up like a consolation prize? No way!”
“OK, let me think… So, what if we got to the Aghash Rukon camp, and while we’re there, Grimold and I, we fight, right? And he lays a whuppin’ on me. And oh, whaddya know, he does it right in front of Ril. And she goes, ‘Oh Grimold, you’re so dreamy, I just want to cut you into pieces and eat you up!’” (Zohruk’s voice is in a high falsetto for that last bit.) “There’s really only a... a very small chance she’d mean that literally.” A brief glance around tells Zohruk his idea isn’t getting any traction. “All right then, I’m just gonna fold that one up, put it in my pocket for now,” he says, making a folding motion with his hands. "It’s there when we need it."
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“Now all of you, remember this: Monkey, holds on to girl. Girl, holds on to horse. Horse, listens to girl. Everyone have that?”
He looks up at her, and his face brightens again. Thanks, I needed that.
Anytime. I like your laugh. It intrigued her to see him blush the shade of an avocado, a fruit that she’ll likely never taste again, not up here in the north. But it’s fun to see his reactions, and part of her wants to make him blush that way all over again. Still, now is not the time. They’ll have to stay on task if they want to complete this mission and stay alive.
“The instructions sound simple enough... But perhaps we should wait for Sir Daen to tell us whether we’re taking the horses or not?” She grins down at him, and then turns to Daen. “Your instructions, sir? How do we proceed?”
“And she goes, ‘Oh Grimold, you’re so dreamy, I just want to cut you into pieces and eat you up!’” (Zohruk’s voice is in a high falsetto for that last bit.) “There’s really only a.. a very small chance she’d mean that literally…”
Taj exchanges alarmed looks with Grimold, wondering if this was indeed an accurate portrayal of the mysterious Ril. No, it couldn’t be. No woman talked like that, much less thought like that.
“All right then, I’m just gonna fold that one up, put it in my pocket for now,” he says, making a folding motion with his hands. “It’s there when we need it.”
Taj shakes her head. “Zoh, don’t take this wrong, but I’m really hoping we never need that plan.”
“Zoh, don’t take this wrong, but I’m really hoping we never need that plan.”
Zoh shrugs. “Well, it’ll be there when we need it. But he has to remember to pull punches,” Zoh points to Grimold as he talks, “Something that was conspicuously not happening the last time we faked a fight. Well, I was faking it, at least…”
“It’s a shame, it woulda been neat to see Yhrrilka make up some kick-ass tattoos like she did for me. Get some giant fox spread all the way across your back or something…”
Table one, do you guys want to deliberate more, or just take the scrolls and get to the fort? You can take enough to go to Zohruk's tribe after if you want.
"We'll take the scrolls and leave our horses here." He motioned with an air of finality. "If it's magic, the horses won't get us anywhere faster and if Taj can cast from them we'll have much more versatility than our horses can afford. Besides, we should be able to get a bit of scouting in the area before we release the spell. As we approach, do a circle around the fort to see what we're dealing with. As long as we have daylight, the main forces should have trouble seeing us, but they also have others on their side, so we'll have to be wary. Stay high and at the end of your vision and we'll decide the best approach from there."
"We'll take the scrolls and leave our horses here."
At this news, Zohruk tries to casually untie the rope he’d secured around Rataji, trying (too hard) to look as if this was supposed to have been a drill or a demonstration. He looks up at the girl.
Uh, yeah. I um, I got a little ahead of things there, sorry. Trying to protect mini erdene, he grins, more than a little sheepishly.
After untying and stowing the rope, Zoh helps Rataji down; the whole time he does so, he's getting more focused on the matter at hand.
"Ready."
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“It’s a shame, it woulda been neat to see Yhrrilka make up some kick-ass tattoos like she did for me. Get some giant fox spread all the way across your back or something…”
Zoh’s forearm tattoos peek tantalizingly from his sleeves. Delicate serpentine bodies, wildly colored feathered wings, stretching gracefully down his arms. Taj hadn’t seen the full design, but she’d glimpsed them, longing to trace them with her fingers and explore how far they extended. However hidden, she’d known that they would be beautiful, had looked forward to the day when Zoh would show them to her.
But Taj hadn’t realized until now who had inked them. Yhrrilka was an artist. She’d indelibly marked Zohruk. Had she intended that everyone who saw those tats would know that he was hers?
“Yhrrilka tattooed those?” Suddenly, Taj feels sick. What has she torn Zohruk from? Would he look down at his own body and remember the hours Ril spent patiently applying the needles to his skin? Did he acknowledge her act of love? Up until now, Yhrrilka’s been an abstraction. But now, Taj knows that she’ll think of the other girl every time she touches those tattoos.
She looks at Zoh, stricken. I’d joked about stealing you. But I truly did, didn’t I? Do you want... She closes her eyes, then breathes in deep. It would rip me apart, but I’d set you free if you asked. Do you want freedom, Zoh?
___
Uh, yeah. I um, I got a little ahead of things there, sorry. Trying to protect mini erdene, he grins, a little sheepishly.
She smiles back at him as he helps her down from Igugu, enjoying the feeling of his warm hands around her waist. I asked you to tie me in. No need to apologize. Then she turns, her outfit shifting and melting from practical riding gear into a form fitting white silk pantsuit*. Stroking Igugu on the nose, she says to one of the young squires, “You’ll take good care of my horse, won’t you? She was a gift from Sir Zohruk. I’d hate to lose her after only two days of riding her!”
Turning to Orren, she curtsies and accepts the scrolls gracefully. Then she grabs her flag, her bag and her spear. Babu leaps to her shoulder, his tail curling gracefully around her neck. “This will work best if everyone is wearing white. If you don’t have white, I’m sure Daen has a spell that can change the colors of your clothes.” Then she turns back to Orren. “I can’t do Dancing Lights, but I’m an excellent illusionist. If you’re doing regular divinations of the fort, I could put up an image of various cloud shapes as signals of how we’re faring, if you would wish it...?”
Pulling out the first scroll, she asks, “Is everyone ready?”
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I’d joked about stealing you. But I truly did, didn’t I? Do you want... It would rip me apart, but I’d set you free if you asked. Do you want freedom, Zoh?
Zohruk blanches a bit. His separation from his tribe was one of his least favorite topics, but it seemed this was the time to talk about it. I don’t know if I’d call it stealing, Rataji. Maybe at worst, you took something that was laying out, that no one thought to lock away...
He takes a moment to try and compose his thoughts, and continues. The chief of my tribe is a woman named Mahja Firehair. She’s a rhuvolokh, a priestess of the Burning Mother. She… she was nice enough to me, but she always put obstacles in the way of me and Yhrrilka. Ril always seemed to have some duties the Chief gave her that took time away from us, then when I got older, I got sent off on missions to Urgir, and then to Vigil. From the day I left home, I’ve tried to figure out why she was doin’ this to us. I’ve had more theories than I can count, but in the end, I think she meant for me to never come home. A moment after he says that, he realizes it probably came out wrong. Not in like, a sinister way; I just really think the Chief saw a destiny for me that had me doin’ my best for the tribe, away from the tribe. I guess she didn’t want me and Ril getting together, when we were just gonna be torn apart again.
Yeah, Yhrrilka did these tattoos, Zohruk says as he stares at his forearms. They were a labor of love, and I also know that she could get jealous as hell sometimes, and probably enjoyed leaving her mark on me. But in my heart, Taj, I think that even if your grandmother hadn’t done anything, I wasn’t going to get back to Axe-Face Bluff and have some sort of happy ending with Ril. She’s in her place, and I’m out here, in mine. And yours. Using all the courage he can muster, Zoh stops gazing at his arms, and looks over to Rataji.
You and I seem to be really fixated on this idea of rippin’ ourselves apart in the name of making the other one ‘free’ somehow, like that’s gonna be better. Maybe we should try and redirect some of that energy into being intact, and together. What do you say? He holds out one hand toward Rataji.
_____
“This will work best if everyone is wearing white. If you don’t have white, I’m sure Daen has a spell that can change the colors of your clothes.”
Zoh looks around awkwardly, no one told me I needed to have different color clothes. And white? I can't pull off white. I sure as hell can't do it as well as Taj can, anyway.
"Uh, Daen, you got a hand to lend on that front? I left my white suit in my other haversack."
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You and I seem to be really fixated on this idea of rippin’ ourselves apart in the name of making the other one ‘free’ somehow, like that’s gonna be better. Maybe we should try and redirect some of that energy into being intact, and together. What do you say? He holds out one hand toward Rataji.
She takes the hand he offers. Am I crazy that I’m jealous of Ril? When I’m the one who has you? Is it insane that I want to know just how far those tattoos go? It bothers me that she’s seen more of you than I have... He has a past. It’s time to accept it and move forward, but the only way she knows how to do this is to vent. She squeezes his hand. Why does Ril’s artwork have to be so exquisite? She turns his hand over, to show off Ril’s art on the forearm, where the serpentine bodies look ready to take to the air. Why am I like this? I don’t really want you marked with sloppy, ill-made tattoos, like the ones I’d make. And suddenly she’s laughing. Maybe I can draw a couple of smiley faces somewhere where no one else will look? Just to mark you as my territory? What do you think?
___
“As we approach, do a circle around the fort to see what we're dealing with. As long as we have daylight, the main forces should have trouble seeing us, but they also have others on their side, so we'll have to be wary. Stay high and at the end of your vision and we'll decide the best approach from there.”
Taj grins eagerly. “This won’t be mechano-griffins, but we’ll still be flying. You guys ready?” She casts from the Wind Walk scroll.
As her body shifts to mist, and she and her friends take to the winds, she cannot help but let out a whoop. “Someday, I’m going to have to learn how to cast this! Daen, you’re right. This beats the heck out of riding!”
At least, the way I ride...
As D Squad transforms into weightless white wisps, they fly high above the wall and head north. Immediately they observe the miles of killing fields, tens of thousands of men and orcs strewn about. Left to rot in the afternoon sun. Daen quickly leads them higher to avoid the whirling storms of flies.
For about an hour they travel over light forests and rocky ravines. Arriving at the hordeline you see the fort. The wall and fort are grey and red stone native to the rocks near here and the mountains east near the border of Ustalav. The wall is forty feet high and thirty feet thick. The fort is round and the same height as the top of the wall save for two parapets that appear to hold decommissioned ballistae on them. The only proper opening is at ground level on the south side, a gate iron and large enough for three men on horseback to enter abreast, otherwise only arrow slits and stone drops make for access points and those are at least twenty feet off the ground. As you wisp by as clouds on the back of the wind, you notice something strange, there are signs of battle here even many dead orcs and several knights and crusaders. But aside from a the worn path leading to the gate, which stands eerily open, there is a good hundred feet of untouched long grass and wild shrubbery all around the fort as if no orc tread upon it or horse rode through it. The interior is dark from the entrance, and all visible ingresses are also dark.
Immediately they observe the miles of killing fields, tens of thousands of men and orcs strewn about. Left to rot in the afternoon sun. Daen quickly leads them higher to avoid the whirling storms of flies.
Taj had always dreamed of flying, soaring high above the earth, with the birds and the clouds. But her dreams had always included flying over verdant jungles, or cities full of happy, waving people. Suddenly she feels sick. She looks out at the killing fields, shocked. “So this is what war is... I never knew. Are they all like this? The stories that Tam and Zemwaar told me somehow left this part out.”
Ali’s voice is sour in her head.
There could be no songs that would beautify this horror down below. Orcs and Knights, people fighting for their homelands, each believing they are right... This was why Daddy had told her they do what they do. To prevent the wars, to prevent the fighting.
But this is Zohruk’s world, and his fight. And she’s promised to help him and her adopted country. Clenching her fists, she takes deep breaths, trying to remember the horror. Trying to remember the lost ones. Perhaps someday she could write a song about them, so that no one would forget the ones that are lost when this war is over, being scripted once more into the glorious fight that bards love to sing about.
The view gets better as they fly over the light forests and rocky ravines, but she’s no longer flying in innocent appreciation of the natural wonders below them. Instead, she’s trying to mark those ravines and forests in her mind for terrain advantages, for places where a small group of knights can take cover and trap the enemy.
The enemy. Only a few weeks ago she had traveled here as an emissary. And had Daddy actually managed to make his deal, what further carnage would have been wreaked on Last Wall? How many deaths would diplomacy have caused? She grimly flies them on where Daen leads. They have a job to do here, and she’s not going to fail them.
As you wisp by as clouds on the back of the wind, you notice something strange, there are signs of battle here even many dead orcs and several knights and crusaders. But aside from a the worn path leading to the gate, which stands eerily open, there is a good hundred feet of untouched long grass and wild shrubbery all around the fort as if no orc tread upon it or horse rode through it. The interior is dark from the entrance, and all visible ingresses are also dark.
At the Fort, she stares. “I don’t like this. We could fly through a window, but where are the defenders?”
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A huge wave of relief washes over Zohruk as the tension over Rataji’s learning more about Yhrrilka dissipates almost as quickly as it gathered. Zoh once again looks down at the tattoos that started the issue. The designs on both of my arms go up to just past my elbows. Zohruk pushes up the sleeve of his right arm to show the top of the tattoo on that arm to Rataji, then a moment later pulls it back down. I had to really push Ril to finish or she would’ve kept going ‘til they were just one big tattoo that ran across my shoulders and down each arm. Woulda been cool, but I’d’ve never left for Vigil if I’d let her keep workin’, and I don’t think Sir Lukyan woulda put up with that.
So apart from what’s on my arms, there’s just a couatl you haven’t seen yet… Zohruk places a fist over his heart indicating where that tattoo is, ...and that’s all. And that is in fact all, erdene! Those needles hurt like hell. If you think I’m gonna let you just idly draw on me with those things, you’d better pack something a lot stronger than a color spray! Zohruk grins, and notices that the smile on Taj’s face is even wider than his own. It doesn’t even matter what answer I give here, does it?
__________
Flight turns out to be nowhere near as unsettling as Zohruk worried it might be, but the terrain over which the team flies keeps the experience from being enjoyable in any way. He’d seen death before and even taken some lives, but the scope of what he was seeing dwarfed his experience of the topic. He spared a glance to look over at Rataji; it was damn near impossible to get a read on her facial expression in their current state. Are you okay over there?
“So this is what war is... I never knew. Are they all like this? The stories that Tam and Zemwaar told me somehow left this part out.”
“I’m not gonna try and pass myself off as an expert on the topic, but yeah, this pretty much tracks with what I’ve seen. It’s a lot more glamorous after the bards get to makin’ songs about it.”
The eerie calm surrounding the fort, and the undisturbed nature of the structure given the surrounding carnage, scream TRAP! in Zohruk’s mind, but the unique opportunities afforded by the spell give Zohruk an idea. “Daen, if my darkvision still functions in this form, I could make a speed run through the joint, try and get the lay of the land. What do you think?”
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Daen nodded at Taj's suggestion and colored everyone white before they left. The trip was somewhat uneventful and the landscape was exactly as he'd expected from the reports. He didn't really understand the shock that Taj and others had expressed about the landscape of corpses, nor had he ever. It just was perhaps something missing in his heart. He knew that the loss of so many troops put Lastwall in a terrible position, and he knew that his friends he knew from training were likely strewn about that field. He also knew he could do nothing about it now, nor would he likely ever. The best he could do is protect what he had.
As they traveled through the wind, Daen began his speech. "Though the prospect is grim, the rewards of protecting one's own at personal cost is laudable. The darker the fate, the brighter the victory, should it be possible. On that field are countless tales of bravery, those willing to be the wall for their friends, their families and their countrymen. We will all die some day. What better way to die if one has to, than to sell your life at a premium, protecting your family and loved ones from the same and letting them live in peace? I am actually glad to have a purpose, and a reason to live and to die. I wouldn't trade it for anything."
Daen has most likely composed this particular speech ahead of time and memorized it. Though his delivery was a little wooden, it still came from the heart.
Along the way, Daen noticed that his form and weapon were nearly useless in this state. In order to do anything but move, they'd have to become corporeal again. When they arrived at the fort, Daen nodded at his friend. "You should have your vision, but take Grimold with you for back up. If you meet resistance, just run. We'll have to find a quiet place to all switch back from cloud form, so that's your top priority for now."
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It doesn’t even matter what answer I give here, does it?
She grins. I think I won’t needle you after all. Just grab some paint and draw something fresh each time. Marking you as mine not just once, but many times, changing the picture each time. At this, she sprinkles water ever so lightly up his arm with mage hand, then raising a provocative eyebrow. What do you think?
____
Taj does not hold Daen's practiced speech against him. She's so shaken from the killing fields that she thinks a practiced speech of her own would have been helpful. Yes, the next time she plans to fly like a wisp over a devastating war, she must make preparing speeches her first priority.
The absurdity of this thought steadies her just in time for Zoh’s next proposal. As the plan for Zoh and Grimold’s excursion into the Fort comes together, her stomach turns over once more. But this is what Zoh does, scouting in enemy forts, rescuing people. Her freedom stems from this. So she stands tall, and tries to exude a confidence that she does not entirely feel.
Yeah, she’s freaking out, but she believes in Zoh and Grimold.
“Zoh and I can hear each other a very long way. He can tell us what he sees, when he sees it.” And then she smiles at both young men. “Go, do what you must, we’ll wait -- or come if you call -- on your word.”
Stay safe, erdene. Don’t force me to track down my loot to find it again.
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What do you think?
Zohruk smiles back at Taj, his eyebrows also raised in mock concern. I think you were less dangerous when you had a knife to my throat. No less interesting, mind you. He feels a brief but powerful pang of regret the two of them couldn’t have had just a little time to themselves, in normal, less doom-laden circumstances. All the more reason to see this through safely, Zoh thinks to himself.
__________
Zoh knew that Daen had certain speeches he prepped in advance, turns of phrase chosen and crafted with the same care he used in making a wand. Zoh couldn’t always tell, and had honestly stopped thinking it mattered how his friend came to these things. Zoh himself engaged in that very behavior enough that he wouldn’t feel right judging Daen for it.
"You should have your vision, but take Grimold with you for back up. If you meet resistance, just run. We'll have to find a quiet place to all switch back from cloud form, so that's your top priority for now."
Stay safe, erdene. Don’t force me to track down my loot to find it again.
Zoh looks over to Rataji, and is glad to see her confidence mirrors his own. Of course. I’ll return every penny, with interest.
Turning to Grimold, he hopes his grin is discernible through his insubstantial form. “Ready whenever you are, you windbag!”
Kassie rides with the others over the boxy-strewn battlefield, expertly guiding her horse with her knees and peering downward at the drop below. Despite the carnage, which she is used to after so long fighting the orcs, she lets her mood be buoyed by the remarkable sensation of flying so far above the ground. Letting her head back she laughs before turning to Daen next to her. "Come on Daen," she says, her eyes twinkling, "Even you must admit that this feels fantastic? - It's like being a bird, Like,.... pure freedom!"
With good natured chagrin, Zohruk and Grimold fly away toward the nearing fort. Their wisps leaving a slight trail as they race north.
Doing another circle of the place, Zohruk leads them in through the battlements at the top, figuring that would be the last place they would expect an ingress from.
The top of the tower and housed in the battlements are ballistae and catapults that while once well oiled and upkept, now are quickly heading toward derelict with no crusaders their to maintain the machinery. Down they head, seeing that the next floor down while well barricaded is also very open, it is obvious that men could fight effectively from both this level and above. Here there are massive vats for preparing oil as well as racks of bows and arrows, piles of stone, slings and javelins.
Finding the stone stairs down, the two scouts enter the fortress proper. The air is dark and musty. Cold and close. Not what Zohruk expected to find in an Orc hideout, dirt and grime sure, blood and meat, absolutely. Here there were shadows. Moving room by room, Grimold follows in the dark, staying near to his friend’s presence more by instinct than anything else. Zohruk takes note with his darkvision, armory. Well maintained swords, shields, bows, lances, locked up and orderly. Not raided. Zohruk feels like something is off. Next. Kitchen. Better, orc like mess strewn about, stores emptied and consumed not to recent by the looks of it. Command room, chairs and benches, several desks, a large table, once strewn with papers, now charred black. Someone had put the table and it’s contents to the torch. The chairs and other furniture, walls, and floor, had strange markings on them, written in ash. Out into the dining hall, finally life, four five six orcs stood at the long feast table in this room, no lights burned. They didn’t talk or really move beyond the occasional shuffling of feet. Several more Orcs sat at the tables and seemed dead. Finding the next stair down, the ghostly intruders continue.
This was the ground floor. Barracks, there were ten more Orcs here and they also seemed to just stand there. Through their midsts went the mists. Entry way and open gate, to the side a stable, horses were here once, now an ogre dwelt within, it seemed perfectly normal, hoarding the bloody remains of a dozen war horses it burped and picked its teeth with a bone, attempting to sleep in bloated bliss. In the back of this floor near the wall there is another stair down. This one is close and somehow even darker than the rest of the fort. Winding hallways broken up by cells, a dungeon. Most cells are empty, but one has two orcs chained to a wall, hung up by their wrists, they are emaciated and look to be on the verge of dying of thirst, but alive. At the very end of the hall the two adventuring pals come to a recent site of excavation. Bricks and stones removed from the floor of the tunnel and mounds of dirt set aside with shovel and pick, reveal a great dark hole. From its cusp, Zohruk cannot see the bottom or make out any discerning features, he decides it may not be wise to venture there alone and whispers to Grimold that they should ascend.
Flying up the stairs and out of the gate, they return to the group, the whole thing taking a little over twenty minutes.
"Come on Daen," she says, her eyes twinkling, "Even you must admit that this feels fantastic? - It's like being a bird, Like,.... pure freedom!"
When Kassie swooped over with her trademark smile and twinkle, Daen stiffened a bit. Though some might consider her mood to be irreverent, it was important to keep morale high. Morose attitudes didn't exactly make for good soldiers. It's probably why the squad was more than half full of cheerful people. "I can admit that, actually." He did his own full turn to look at the sky and back down at the distant ground. "We're certainly making good ground as well. I'd like to travel this way all of the time."
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Having heard the report traveling through the mind link Daen processed the information as best he could. Standing orcs? They might be under some kind of magical effect? Were there traps, or something more sinister afoot? He started puzzling it out loud, so people would know where he's coming from. "We're going to need more information. It's my guess that the Lord Watcher is below, although I've got no way to determine what we're dealing with. We can bypass the whole lot with our wind spell and go down the hole, or we can fight our way through them. I'm interested in those orc prisoners, we might be able to get more information out of them or some of the other orcs as well. But that hole is where the question truly lies, if we fight our way through, we might find out what we're up against, but if we bypass the lot, we'll also come upon the Lord Watcher with more resources and less wounds."
He squinted his eyes for a minute, and noted how restless they all were. If they let these orcs go, when they had a chance to beat them, then they'd be able to live on to kill their countrymen at a another time. But if they alerted the enemy or arrived too late, they would have their Commander's life on their hands...
"We'll sneak past in mist form and go down the hole together. Taj, if you can make a bridge out of moonlight once we pass through so we can't be followed, we'll have a better comfort about that. Our priority is locating and rescuing the Lord Watcher, I'm sure we'll have no end of opportunities to kill orcs at another time. While we're going down, I'd like to have a bit of a chat with the orc prisoners, see if they can tell us anything. I'll take volunteers to do the talking, although I don't mind doing it, I know where my strengths lie."
“Aaaand we’re back,” said Zohruk as he and Grimold resumed corporeal form, on the low slope about two bowshots away that had been agreed on as a rendezvous point. “I won’t lie, that spell is pretty slick, but I don’t think white is my color. Aren’t you not supposed to wear white until the end of Desnus?”
As Zoh addresses the group, he turns to Rataji, raises his eyebrows and smiles. I think we learned something valuable there about our link, eh? But all’s well that ends well; your treasure, returned as promised. I’ll, uh, I’ll pay back that interest later.
“If we’re gonna make our way through the joint, the commander’s offices seem like the best place to enter and materialize. We saw some odd markings on the furniture and walls in there you should probably see.”
“There were some orcs in the mess hall and the barracks, but damn if they didn’t seem off. They were acting weirdly, weren’t they, Grimold? Just… vacant, for lack of a better word.”
“Uh, let’s see… Ogre making it’s usual ogrish mess of itself in the stable, he seemed, well, normal is a stretch for them, let’s say he was acting like I’d expect an ogre to.”
“The last real thing of interest was in the cellar by the detention cells; a couple of orcs shackled up as prisoners, and an excavation we didn’t want to disturb without the lot of you handy.”
"We'll sneak past in mist form and go down the hole together..."
Zoh nods his assent to Daen’s idea. It made enough sense to him to get their main objective having expended as few resources as possible. “Ready on your word, boss.”
When Zohruk mentions the orcs, Grimold nods his assent. "Aye, there is something different about them." He pauses in thought as he tries to describe the scene. "It makes me think the orcs are not in control of themselves. The whole fortress, it did not look like it was being held by orc hordes. It is as if..." Grimold shivers a little at the thoughts running through his mind. "It is as if this is the work of another overlord, like the Whispering Tyrant." He has to fight not to say the dread name in a whisper.
When she could no longer hear Zoh’s thoughts, it took everything Taj had in her to wait patiently with Daen for the group’s return.
Groom? Babu’s paws wisped uselessly through Taj’s hair, and then Taj’s head. Then a wave of frustration, followed by an image of happy monkeys in a troop, grooming each other.
Taj ducks the paws going through her head, laughing a little despite her nervousness. You can’t groom smoke, Babu! Wait until we’re solid again. Taj follows up with an image of her own of the wisps of smoke solidifying into happy, grooming monkeys. It wasn’t the assuring touch that Babu craved, but it would have to do for now.
I think we learned something valuable there about our little link, eh? But all’s well that ends well; your treasure, returned as promised. I’ll, uh, I’ll pay back that interest later.
Her heart leapt at his return. Good thing, because I warn you, my interest rates are HIGH. You may have to invest quite a bit before you can repay it all. It’s easy to quip, to pretend that she hadn’t been panicked every second he was gone. How did he manage in such a short time to become so essential?
The news about the possessed orcs was disturbing. Orcs were lively, unrestrained, fierce. It was one of the things that Taj had liked about them and their culture. With Orcs you generally knew where you stood. Though Belkzen was now her enemy, it bothered her to think of any people with the will sapped out of them by dark magic.
"It is as if this is the work of another overlord, like the Whispering Tyrant."
Taj stirs. “Oh, I’ve heard of him! You think that Tar-Baphon might be back? Or have escaped his seal? Still... we've known ever since the exploding madman that there is a high-level necromancer at work here. As creepy as this is, it's not a surprise to see dark magic active in Belkzen. We'll just have to be careful, gather what clues we can, and stick to the rescue mission, right?”
“We'll sneak past in mist form and go down the hole together. Taj, if you can make a bridge out of moonlight once we pass through so we can't be followed, we'll have a better comfort about that. Our priority is locating and rescuing the Lord Watcher, I'm sure we'll have no end of opportunities to kill orcs at another time. While we're going down, I'd like to have a bit of a chat with the orc prisoners, see if they can tell us anything. I'll take volunteers to do the talking, although I don't mind doing it, I know where my strengths lie.”
“Yes, let’s do this.” She looks at Daen with her serious dark brown eyes. “I’ll do what you need, where you need it. If you want a bridge placed, I’ll place that bridge. If you need someone to talk to the orcs and play the friendly one, I could do that as well. I’m not great at menacing, but I am pretty good at getting people to talk to me. I look so harmless, people often give things away that they don’t think about.”
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"It is as if this is the work of another overlord, like the Whispering Tyrant."
Zohruk blanched a bit at Grimold's suggestion. He knew little about the Tyrant save what they had been taught in their history classes, but even that had almost seemed too horrific to be true. Grimacing, he says, “Ugh, I hope you’re wrong about that. It’d be nice to have being wrong be a good thing once in a while,” Zoh attempts to joke. “Last time it was, ‘No way Zoh, next card is definitely gonna be an eight, watch.’”
Good thing, because I warn you, my interest rates are HIGH. You may have to invest quite a bit before you can repay it all.
Rataji’s comment draws a silent laugh from Zoh. Wow, even if you’d stayed in Urgir, I think you’d have ended up calling the shots before too long. You’d probably have grabbed up all of Muhlug’s loan-sharking business by now.
Groom? Babu jumps up into Zohruk’s arms, and presents his back to him.
Zohruk absent-mindedly gives him a few pets, and replies, We’ll do it later, okay? Now’s not the best time. Babu leaps back down, in a bit of a huff. It’s only after it’s happened that Zohruk realizes who he’d been talking to, causing him to double-take a bit. Um, Taj, the monkey may have just talked to me. Are we concerned about this?
Taj stirs. “Oh, I’ve heard of him! You think that Tar-Baphon might be back? Or have escaped his seal? Still... we've known ever since the exploding madman that there is a high-level necromancer at work here. As creepy as this is, it's not a surprise to see dark magic active in Belkzen. We'll just have to be careful, gather what clues we can, and stick to the rescue mission, right?”
As Taj speaks his name, Grimold holds an urgent finger to his lips with a shh! "Don't say his name." He makes a sign with his hands to ward off bad luck and incants a quick prayer to Desna.
His superstitions satisfied, he shakes his head. "I do not think it is him. We were in Ustalav less than a week ago, with no sign of such a catastrophe. But the way those orcs looked, and with two of their own locked up?" Grimold looks at Zohruk. "We should definitely talk to them. There are strange things afoot."
Traveling in wind form, the group enters the fort. Following Grimold and Zohruk past the ogre and down into the dark below. The dungeon is deep and Daen counts fifty steps down to the bottom. At the junction in the hallway the group solidifies.
Cobwebs and stale air are overpowering. It is absolutely dark and cold. Somewhere, a wind makes a light howling noise. Those with darkvision see that to the left, the side hall leading to the cell with the orc’s in it branches off, and in front 30 yards, the dark hole and source of the wind.
Wow, even if you’d stayed in Urgir, I think you’d have ended up calling the shots before too long. You’d probably have grabbed up all of Muhlug’s loan-sharking business by now.
Rataji grins. A girl needs some spending cash, you know.
Um, Taj, the monkey may have just talked to me. Are we concerned about this?
You’re not crazy. He talks to me, too. She pauses, then looks at Zoh. I think Babu got caught up in grandma Juju’s spell as well. The repercussions are dizzying. Zoh can hear Babu. Will he start hearing the spirit council as well? I'm glad he likes you. You're not too freaked out about this, are you?
Traveling in wind form, the group enters the fort. Following Grimold and Zohruk past the ogre and down into the dark below. The dungeon is deep and Daen counts fifty steps down to the bottom. At the junction in the hallway the group solidifies.
Cobwebs and stale air are overpowering. It is absolutely dark and cold. Somewhere, a wind makes a light howling noise. Those with darkvision see that to the left, the side hall leading to the cell with the orcs in it branches off, and in front 30 yards, the dark hole and source of the wind.
As Taj solidifies, she shivers and coughs. “At least Urgir had fireplaces. And windows. How can we have both stale air and icy drafts?” She reaches out to warm Babu, but the monkey leaps from her shoulder to Zoh's, snuggling into the half-orc's big jacket.
Warm! Babu says.
Taj takes Zoh's hand. You really have made a friend!
She then turns to Daen, indicating the stairwell behind them. "This is where you want the moonlight bridge right? Blocking the way in?" She places it where Daen asks, and it illuminates the whole corridor with the faint glow of moonlight.
Lacking darkvision, she doesn’t notice the source of the wind, the dark hole. Just the cell with the orcs in it. Ali’s voice rings in her head, the dungeon catching Ali’s particular interest.
There’s only one way to find out, Ali.
She debates staying out of sight of the bars, but instead decides to come out where they can see her. She stands tall as Tam had taught her, her voice speaking the flawless orc she’d learned in childhood. “A tor daichid yamar ch gazar yum. Ta gantsaaraa ene shiltgeen bürkhegdüülj kharankhui khüchnii ünegüi yum shig sanagddag. Ta bidentei yarikh bolno, tany erkh chölöö akh düü olj?”
The two orcs hang from their wrists, they are emaciated and discolored. They squint at the sudden light introduced to the area, the one on the right more so than the other. The one on the right speaks ”Agurrak giza puta, egunen batean hil egingo naiz.”
The one on the left stares blankly ahead staying perfectly still and looking straight ahead.
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Ali's voice is acerbic in her ears.
With orcs, you know where you stand.
Taj laughs. "Bakharkhalt üg." She nods approvingly. "Sain, ta kharaakhan evdersen baigaa gesen üg." Then she looks at the other hanging orc and raises an eyebrow. "Tany gar and ünen mön üü?"
She then floats her dagger with magehand in front of the left orc's staring eye, stopping inches from his face. Does he react?
"Ta unaj id shid khüseldee khötlögdsön, esvel odoo ch gesen tany oyuun ukhaan üne tölbörgüi baidag uu? Odoo yari."
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"Agurrak giza puta, egunen batean hil egingo naiz."
Zoh tenses for a moment, then relaxes his demeanor back to feigned nonchalance, filing the orc's comment away to deal with once Rataji's had a chance to play this out. He's gonna have to be taught not to talk to her that way. And the way my day's been going, I'll be more than happy to teach him.
If you want me to step in as a 'bad cop' at any point, just say the word.
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The swordsman stood by with his arms crossed. It wasn't important for him to get into this matter. He of all people was least qualified for this kind of work, possibly excepting Ellie. The best thing he could do was listen and analyze the information as it came in. He had learned Orcish from Zohruk early in their relationship, and found it pretty useful on the battlefield as well. Perhaps this particular stop will help, perhaps it won't, but to him it was worth the risk.
“Hmmph. You do realize that Taj was also born to unwed parents, yes?” Shivaji spreads his arms, feeling anger on behalf of this young man. “Will she also have to contend with this sort of nonsense??? How can the noble houses of Avistan be so cold? Isn’t their frigid climate enough? We Mwangi are a bit more flexible on the matter of children born out of wedlock. We care about bloodlines and heritages, but we don’t force couples to marry just because they had a child. Nor do we punish children for the sins of their parents!”
The half elf shrugged. "A parent with a lack of self control will likely pass such traits on to their children. Offspring without either or both parents have several disadvantages in addition to that, including but not limited to:" He began to count on his fingers. "Higher likelihood of crime and a duplicitous or deceptive nature, unfavorable or unplanned family traits, lack of social training, unclear notions of familial bonds and ability to relate, constant family strife concerning inheritance, title, position and opportunities." He threw up his open hands in a careless nature, as if he just recited the former list from a book, which in fact he had.
" A consistent home life is the ideal way to better society since a disproportionate number of societal ills can be directly linked to family problems. The lack of acceptance of a bastard child is the cruelest punishment for any parent if they actually care about such children. So if any care for children, the social contract of marriage is in fact the most important contract of society. The very human heart also testifies to this, as the vast majority of those who love, should love at least until death, preferably farther." At this point, he stopped his recitation partially relieved that it was over and glanced out of the tops of his eyes as he raised his eyebrows at the oracle. "It's a philosophy that has run circles around chaotic barbarians for generations, and though it has its flaws, it has created a strong, advanced, and numerous people who has thoroughly won wars against all other cultures founded the strongest and most numerous cities on Golarion, not to mention this little country that has been fighting a three front war for a hundred years without losing ground until this past month."
He shrugged again. "Might as well throw out tradition that doesn't suit me personally, except that usually leads to the downfall of said society and ruination of the people I've come to care for despite their usually justified prejudices. We've a long history of struggle, and it's the thing that has kept us going. For us to abandon it now, we might actually lose the reason why we are even fighting for the things we fight for. Those back home. Those who cannot take care of themselves. We fight for our families, and the stronger they are, the greater the strength we derive from them. I would love someday to have a home, but until then, I'll fight for the idea of one, and for my brothers and sisters in arms that have them. Grimold and the Tillernos Sisters have overcome great obstacles, and even things that would have easily destroyed me because of their families. It's a force to be reckoned with."
The half elf picked up his quill and ink again, but refrained from dipping the writing instrument again. "Can the prejudice be overcome? Yes. But such things take time. And I'm patient. One good thing of my elven blood is that I'll have the time to prove myself before I get too old. Taj actually won't have a problem because the issue is usually family driven. Zoh is from Belzken, and they have an entirely different philosophy. That you'll have to take up with him."
“But I hope that won’t be how it happens. ‘Sour bastard’ or not, I enjoyed talking to you, Sir Daen. I’m glad that my Taj and her Knight have you to lead them. Would you like me to usher in the next spirit? Entertaining as this has been, I know that I’m not the only spirit you need to talk to tonight.”
"It has been a pleasure talking with you, I am ready to meet the rest. I certainly have a fair amount of notes already, and the more advisers, the better the plans."
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Ali’s gaze casually shifts around, calculating possible escape routes in his head... If only this were the kind of Knight in full plate, he could be confident of leaving the guy behind in the dust... But this Knight is lightly built, and in good shape. Yeah, bad idea. Ali attempts to smile. Instead the effect is like a dog baring his teeth in warning to not come too close.
“What an unexpected pleasure it is to be summoned up for a surprise chat with law enforcement! But you must have other more interesting spirits to talk to... Am I right? And besides, I think that death means we’re slightly past the usual statute of limitations.”
“So let’s get to your questions, Sunshine, and get this charming interview over with.”
___
Taj notes the reaction of the staring orc, and pulls the dagger back. “Sonirkholtoi...” Immediate threat removed, she casts Charm Person on him. “Naizuud biye biyedee tusaldag. Kherev ta ene gazar. Chi shorond khorigdoj baigaa uchraas medekh ve, tany zaluu daichid yaagaad thralls shig zogsoj baina. Khen üüniig yum bidend kheleech?"
The orc turns it’s head and looks at Taj. She feels the effects of her spell try to override something else, something more powerful. The orc speaks in a language that Taj is lucky enough to recognize, ”Ne znaju da mali jedan. Kažem vam sada, letjeti odavde, mali čarobnjak. Ovo je moja domena. To je moje tijelo. Vaš trespasse me neprijatan. Ostavi sada, ili se pridružiti one zelene.”
The words sound unnatural, the Orc is probably not a native speaker, which is odd, as most Belkzen Orcs are.
When she removes the knife she notices that where the blade hit the skin, it is a distinctly different color. The orc’s red eyes momentarily appear blue, and it’s black hair blonde.
Kassara stands listening to the exchange, only speaking up at the Orc's final words. "That's not orcish," she says, looking around. "Does anyone know what he's saying?"
“I do. He’s speaking undercommon, and just called me a ‘little wizard’.” Taj translates the rest of the statement word for word, “There’s a powerful illusion here cloaking these bodies. What does your Lord Watcher look like?” She points. “That one is really a blond with blue eyes.”
Zohruk wracks his brain trying to remember what Lord Ulthun looked like the one time he was anywhere near him. "Uh, maybe that's him? Could be, anyway. That's as much detail as I remember. He was present at our knighting ceremony, but I was a bit hyped that morning, I was lucky I got my boots on the right feet."
Great, Zoh. Very helpful, he castigates himself, then shrugs. "Sorry. Were any of you more coherent that day?"
The half elf stepped forward and glared into the glammer. "I remember what he looks like, but I'll have to make sure I can pierce the illusion. It's not always easy, even if you know it's there."
Daen looks closely at the orc, the illusion flickers and fails under his intense scrutiny. He sees a man that may be the Lord Watcher, the height and hair were right, this man was emaciated though, and likely had not eaten since his capture.
While Rataji is waiting to find out the identity of the blond man, she takes another look at the other orc, the one who insulted her, wondering if there's an illusion on him as well. Are they both humans, or is he what he appears to be?
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“Aww, I don’t think you’re givin’ this idea its due, buddy. She’s just a lovely she-wolf that would probably really like to get a little fox in her,” Zohruk says, his smile widening. “You’ve got that wiry build she likes, you’re a liiitle short, but not enough to break the deal, you’re brave as all hell, good with a knife… I don’t see any real downside here. Now, Yhrrilka doesn’t have any brothers, but as her cousin, Haazek would probably step in for the fight...” Zoh notes the alarmed look on Grimold’s face. “What? Just a little tussle with Haazek, you know, a, whaddya call it, a ‘test of mettle,’ yeah. You two throw some punches around, so’s you can show you’re tough enough. I’ve seen you lump up bigger guys than him…!” If that’s actually true, Zohruk can’t recall precisely when it was.
Grimold balks at this new turn of events. A little fox? Now he's trying to throw me to the wolves! "Hold a moment there, when did this become about me?"
Zoh’s banter with Grimold is amusing, but Taj can’t help feeling for Yhrrilka. “If we’re not careful, all our pelts will be collected. I know how I’d feel if you were taken from me and I was given a substitute -- no matter how attractive -- in your place.” She nods at Grimold. He was a handsome boy, but he wasn’t Zoh. The one who held her heart. The one she loved. “If Ril is anything like me, and you said she was... She’s going to be hurt and pissed. And I’m the one who did this to her...”
Grimold wasn't really worried about Yrrilka being the one who got hurt, but he vigorously nods his agreement. Relieved that Taj seems to be on his side, he lets her fight this battle for him - she's doing a much better job than he would, anyway.
“OK, let me think… So, what if we got to the Aghash Rukon camp, and while we’re there, Grimold and I, we fight, right? And he lays a whuppin’ on me. And oh, whaddya know, he does it right in front of Ril. And she goes, ‘Oh Grimold, you’re so dreamy, I just want to cut you into pieces and eat you up!’” (Zohruk’s voice is in a high falsetto for that last bit.) “There’s really only a... a very small chance she’d mean that literally.”
Grimold's eyes go wide again, and he and Rataji share a glance. If it were anybody else, Daen perhaps, he might find the joke funny, but being offered up as sloppy seconds to an angry she-orc was an arrow Grimold wasn't interested in taking, even for Zoh. He breathes a sigh of relief as Zohruk lets it go.
Grimold is all too eager to let Zoh and Taj drift off into their awkward mind-link conversation, but he can't help but imagine what he'd look like with his own tattoo spread. His people had long held their own tattoo tradition, but it was mainly a sign that the wearer had sorcerous powers. As far as Grimold knew, he was magically incompetent. In his first few months at the Bonewatch he had tried to learn from Dazen in his spare time, but it never seemed to take.
But Grimold liked the tattoo idea - it would make him feel more... Varisian. His parents had never told him the reason they had forsaken the road and taken up in Vigil, and much of Grimold's energy was spent trying to recapture the connection to his culture that he felt had been missing all his life. He felt that connection most strongly when he played Papa's violin, felt most like himself when he could put bow to string. But chasing that feeling had gotten him into trouble, falling in with the Sczarni after playing with Jorge and Felipe. And it was the same thing that happened back in Ustalav when he had been undercover. After Allie had disappeared and Zoh had been reassigned, he'd fallen prey to it again. The Sczarni mask went on a little too easy and fit a little too well. He'd almost forgotten that he was Grimold the Knight, and he still harbored guilt over it. Even though the mission was ultimately a success, he hadn't told Daen or Kassie how close he had come to turning.
Shrugging off the bad memories, Grimold decides that tattoos might be a good idea someday. It might help Grimold the Knight feel a little more Varisian, a little less distant from his own heritage. Maybe then he wouldn't need other masks to make him feel like himself.
Taj grins. “I would love to hear the tale of Keaton the Spirit Fox. Even more, I’d love to hear the tale of Grimold, former criminal turned Knight. And are there tales that you’d like to hear in return? I’m not as gifted a tale-spinner as Tam, but I remember all the tales the old man told me. Maybe we call all share stories?”
Grimold runs a hand through his hair, scratching the back of his head. This wasn't the first time Taj had asked him about his story, and it seemed like she wasn't going to let him dodge it forever. He knew that, one day, he would have to come up with a version worth telling - every hero had an origin story, and if the bards were going to immortalize him then he needed to make sure his was memorable. But for now, all he had was the truth. So Grimold told Rataji about growing up Oathless in Vigil, and how he had fallen in with Felipe and Jorge and the others. He told her about the night in the rain (had there been rain? Surely there must have been rain, it was much too dramatic for clear skies...) and the job gone bad, and how Allie saved him by offering him a spot in the Bonewatch. Looking back on it, that particular plot twist made even less sense than it had in the moment, and he couldn't help but glance over at Allie, silently thanking her.
When he'd finished his story, he looked back to Taj, grinning sheepishly. "So that is it, the origin story of Grimold the Rag Knight. It will be a legend one day, but you heard it here first! Now if that satisfies your appetite, I would love to hear about life in the Mwangi Expanse. Books about your people are not easy to find here in Vigil." And yet it is so easy to find certain texts from Vudra...
While the others stop to interrogate the prisoners, Grimold stays in cloud form and acts as lookout, patrolling the halls around the prison to make sure nothing sneaks up on them from above or below.
Seeing through the illusion finally, Daen stated it outright. "It's probably him, although I can't be a hundred percent sure since he looks a bit emaciated. If he's under influence of a spell, I don't have the ability to get rid of that, unless we go and defeat the caster. There won't really be any other way to do it without convincing him to just let him go. I'm willing to entertain that if it's possible, however unlikely."
Taj decides that the rude orc is simply that. A rude orc.
Daen detects the lingering remains of a Veil spell, and the current effects of a dominate monster spell on the Lord Watcher, it is possible that he would flee if released or attempt self harm or to harm D squad.
Grimold flutters down the hall and suddenly comes upon the source of the cold draft, a dug out hole that whistles ever so faintly and drops off into the darkness.