Rudabeh's blade slides under the guard of one of the soldiers next to her. Sixth's Peak razor shape edge slashes his legs, causing both to spill blood onto the stone floor, twin puddles of red. He screams in pain but does not fall back.
At Rudabeh's question the older man snaps back, "I'm trying to stop a civil war. One you started. All right men, we came to find her and now we did. We take her and end this right now."
The two crossbow thud again.
This time one strikes true, finding a gap in her blade at her left elbow. In a flash of pain she sees the metal bolt jab into her flesh, blood dripping from the small injury. While minor, it reminds that even the mightiest warrior can be overwhelmed by numbers.
The wounded man does attack but the other does, swinging a heavy axe at Rudabeh's head.
Rudabeh bats it aside, using her reach and superior skill. Two others move forward, filling her field of view, while the wounded man is dragged back by the commander.
As they step into her reach Rudabeh stabs one man through the shoulder, the bright point sticking out the other side, neatly piercing armor, flesh and tendon. He screams loudly, and struggles like a fish on a hook before the paladin's blade comes free.
"You cannot stop this!" Rudabeh shouts as she impales the young man running towards her, blade sticking fast. "I tried, but a single act of justice, of which the common man was starved of, sparked a riot!" Her voice was full of resignation, eccenuated by the wet sound of her sword sliding out of the wounded soldier.
"The people of Pitax- agh" Her voice briefly wavers as her elbow is hit by a crossbow bolt, "demand representation! They demand change! Their voices have been supressed for too long!" but it returns as fiercely as ever.
Brining her sword up into a Wrath guard behind her head, she tries to swing down and out to catch the wounded soldier's shoulder again. However, the bolt stuck in her elbow causes her arm to sieze, and the swing comes to a shuddering halt midair.
[Ooc]Anything on the detect chaos? The commander doesn't seem the type, just want to know if he's smite-able.[/b]
For the first time Rudabeh's blade misses her mark. Although she has dispatched two of her foes, eight of them remain, enough to overwhelm her. Regardless of their skill, she would be just as dead if they killed her with a dazzling display of prowess or a mis-timed stroke.
The paladin's miss seems to encourage them somewhat and they ignore her words, pressing forward on the attack. The crossbow man shoot again, hoping to make an impact. So far it was the only way Rudabeh had been wounded.
Both miss however, the blacksmith having done his job well and her armor turning the bolts. It is well for her they are light crossbows, lacking the true power to punch through her plate.
The two men near Rudabeh attack with axes.
However, they are unused to fighting a armored combatant and her helmets allows the axe blades to scrape off. A new man rushes up to joint hem, taking the place of the heavily wounded man.
She misses too however, and it is a sore blow against her. Now all three foes are lined right in front of her, a screen of enemies in front of the doorway. While they cannot truly flank her, she is beset. Their next attack will have three blades heading toward her. Behind the captain is tending to the wounded man as best he can with field medicine. Rudabeh detects no chaos on the man, which is what she expected. His duty versus hers.
Bolts and blades ring off of the paladin's armor, for even with her movement slowed she was still wrapped in steel and faith.
Rudabeh uses clumsy, predictable, and wide swings to keep the three men back, threatening them with her reach. While she was in danger of all attacking at once, she was also using their bodies as cover from the crossbow fire.
After a few seconds of stepping back from her predictable swings, one soldier gets the timing down and rushes forward- right into the undine's trap.
Rudabeh flexes her honed muscles and The Sixth Peak suddenly stops mid-swing when she sees comited movement towards her. She quickly draws the blade back into Ox stance, steps forward with her right foot, and thrusts hard towards the soldier that believed themself to be so clever; suddenly they are running towards the tip of a five foot blade that is simutaneously hurtling towards their chest.
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Rudabeh's trained skills, despite being glued to the floor, let he react with time to spare. The blade dashes aside the man's hasty block and slides into his chest. With a griding sound the steel grates off bone and sinks deep. With well worn practice, Rudabeh knows she punctured a lung, as she withdraws the blade, keeping it clear.
As his third man falls, Rudabeh looks to the captain. His face looks haggard and worn. He makes eye contact with Rudabeh and she sees rage and disappointment flare in his eyes, warring briefly. Then both fade into bitter regret. Heavily he shouts over the din of battle, 'Come on lads, let's get out of here. We have enough wounded to carry. Out the back door!"
Just as he says this though Rudabeh can hear shouts and calls from behind her. She can't turn her head to see but the sound of many feet fills the street and the crackling of torches. Cries of 'For the people!' tells the paladin Samuel has arrived.
She is relived for a moment until she hears someone shout, "There are soldiers inside! Burn them out!"
With a crash a lit torch suddenly flies through the temple window, catching instantly on the fabric the soldiers were using to block it. In an instant half a dozen more firebrands are thrown inside. Flames dance among the carpets and thrown furniture, smoke rising. In a few moments the entire room was be aflame.
The soldiers start to shout in panic and confusion and order breaks down. Even the harsh bellows of the captain can't keep order.
Rudabeh's blade slides free from the third man, stepping back as he stumbles backwards clutching his chest, wheezing incomprehensible noises. She locks eyes with the commmander for a brief moment before nodding in approval as he calls for a retreat.
She is about to relax and let them escape when the sounds of Samuel's people arrive. It was about to be a total victory, until she heard their cries for vengeance against the soldiers.
"NO!" She shouts with the tone of true panic while whirling around, face aghast as torches burst through the windows. Spinning again the paladin shoulders her greatsword, ending the battle and unwittingly joining the chaos as the soldiers break ranks and panic. Unlike some of her species she had no control over water, and lacked any means of putting out the fires. "Go! Run!" Is her only advice, but she had to find her brothers and sisters in faith.
She surges forward as fast as her sticky legs allow, grasping the tunic of the man she just ran through. White light erupts from her gaunlet and his wound seals shut, saving his life and returning his breath. "Which room are the priests in?!" She shouts into his face, wide and clear blue eyes signaling she has only one objective in mind. Her hand remains firmly affixed to his uniform until he answers, at which she lets him flee.
As the men scatter the captain says, 'No, we have to stick together..." but his exhortation ends in coughs and hacks from the thickly rising smoke. Even Rudabeh's eyes blink furiously from the stinging black clouds.
She reaches out a hand and slightly heals the fallen man. His shocked and confusion render him silence for a moment but the roaring paladin in his face soon rouses him. Coughing, he points to one of the doors with a shaking hand.
All around them men and running for the door or crawling out of the windows. The angry shouts and cries from the street grow, even as the crackling of the flames grows louder. Orange tongues of fire race across the floor, leaping up wall hangings and shutters, erupting into a quickening blaze. The entire room is now filled with the haze of smoke and confused figures running this way and that, coughing from the smoke.
Rudabeh sets the man on his feet and pushes him towards his commander, "Follow your Sergeant! Get out of here!" she yells before turning and beginning to hobble towards the indicated door.
Fire was the ultimate chaos- constantly feeding, destructive, and only controllable when it was small and weak. It was a prefect representation of the crowds outside, which she is sure Samuel fetched with the best of intentions. But fire, like the crowd, does not care about intentions. It jumps from one place to another, feeding and growing larger, until there is nothing left.
She feels a powerful sweat beginning to break out all over her body, far above the usual amount even on a warm day like this one. Rudabeh's eyes sting and her mouth tastes like a bonfire; the aquatic part of her being urges her to panic and jump into the river with every step, but those instincts are held in check by her more righteous and duty-bound inclincations.
I have to save them! The paladin thinks desparately as she moves as fast as possible across the burning church. This isn't how it was supposed to be!
Rudabeh pushes through the haze of smoke and flames to get to the door. It is closed and locked from her side, the key still fitted into the lock, sealing anyone inside. Faintly, over the roaring flames, the haranguing crowd and the panicking soldiers the paladin can hear someone pounding on the inside of the door, the sound faint over the tumult.
Rudabeh throws open the door and reveals a small bedroom, complete with a few simple beds and chests for personal items. There are three people inside, the man and woman she briefly met on the jousting field and a small child, a toddler. He is crying, his wails barely audible over the confused sounds of the battlefield turned disaster area. Their clothes are soaking wet and the man is holding wet clothes up to his and the woman's faces, trying to fight back the smoke.
He makes eye contact with Rudabeh and nods, clearly ready to follow her. Behind them the room is turning into an inferno, as the flames feed hungrily on the wooden furniture and scattered items. Every wall hanging is a sheet of fire and melting paint runs down the walls. Even the windows frames are outlines of flame.
Still, between her armor and innate toughness Rudabeh is not overwhelmed by the flames, not yet at any rate. Still leading three people, including a small child through these flames will not be easy.
Rudabeh throws open the door, relief flooding through her as she finds the priests. Recognizing the two from the jousting field, she immediately extends her free hand to the man, the other still holding her shouldered greatsword. "Form a chain!" She yells, her words nearly interrupted by coughing up thick smoke.
Turning around, the undine is nearly stunned at the incredible vision of destruction before her. Paint running down walls, tapestries aflame... she wonders for the briefest of moments if this what a church of Rovagug would look like, if such a thing even exists.
Pulling on the man's hand she guides them towards the back of the church, trying to get as far away from the spreading flames as possible. She remembers there were windows in the back, but doesn't remember how tall they were and if they were open. Please, my goddess! She thinks in a desparate prayer, beesching her diety in a moment of turmoil and need. Please let your windows be open and accessible, just as your loyal followers are, so we can escape!
Rudabeh's prayers is directly replied, and little wonder. Even if this is her house, what power does Alseta have in such an inferno? Would she even want to help a city that burns her temples to the ground in fits of civil anarchy?
The paladin is pulled out of these musings on the divine as she rushes the clerics across the floor. Ahead the windows beckon, most broken by the thrown torches. Each is wreathed in flame, and edged by broken glass winking in the firelight throwing back dozens of images of roaring flames from razor sharp edges.
They stumble over several bodies, unsure who they are. Focused on her charges Rudabeh leaves them behind. Suddenly, out of the thick smoke the soldier captain looms menacingly. Then, without a word he throws a cloak over the young woman and the baby, protecting them from the blistering heat. Together, the two of them try to clear the window as an escape route.
Her drive to save innocent lives, combined with combat adrenaline allows her to ignore the heat and flames.
Rudabeh can only spare a glance for the bodies she stumbles over, but it did no good- the smoke blocked her vision of the floor.
In normal times broken windows in a church of Alesta would be sacrilege, but amongst the flames and smoke they are one of the most glorious sights she has ever seen. It was a passage to safety, and despite the fire rimming the edges the smoke wasn't as thick.
The apperance of the commander startles her, but his actions immediately set her at ease. Rudabeh feels an immediate and deep connection with the man. His soldiers were probably dead- he did his duty as best as he was able, and now that he was released from it, he did what was right.
Momentarily letting go of the male priest's hand, Rudabeh grabs the blade of her greatsword with her left hand, flipping it upside-down. The leather palms of her gauntlets and a firm grip protect her hands from sliding across the surface of the finely honed blade, while the still fresh blood of the soldiers stain her fingers.
She swings the massive weapon like a hammer, burnished steel of the 8 inch, inwardly curved guards making not only a potent bludgeon, but a hook to pull off pieces of broken glass and crumbling siding.
When it was cleared the paladin does something that she would normally never do, underscoring the extreme agency of the situation- she drops The Sixth Peak. The expertly crafted Maheto weapon that had enforced Law and Order hundreds of times, served as her constant companion for over five years, and was always in a peak state of mainteance and care, hits the ground blade-first, digging a deep gash into the smoldering carpet. It wobbles and falls flat on its side with a loud thump, though the noise is lost in the blazing inferno. On the edges of the blade the young soldier's fresh blood quickly begins to dry, crack, and turn black as smoke roils around it.
Without even glancing at the blade she grabs the nearest priest with both of her hands, pushing them forward and lifting them up out of the window. Rudabeh grunts in exertion, her rapid breathing often turning into coughs.
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Rudabeh's blows make short work of the burning building. Even if it were undamaged, no window is designed to take the damage the paladin was dealing. Charred wood, broken glass, even crumbling mortar give way under her repeated blows, creating a path out of the conflagration. Soon the window is a patch of open air, a vent for roiling smoke but the fresh air that flows in is a godsend to the small, beleaguered group. Still, the heat is growing worse.
As Rudabeh helps the clerics to safety, she accidentally steps on a burning chair. There is a whoosh and swirl of flame, along with a plume of smoke. Instantly a jet of fiery embers flies up her leg and lodges underneath her armor, searing her soft undine skin. The pain is intense, a burning lance pressed against her hot flesh.
Still, with the captain's help, she manages to manhandled all three of her charges out of the window. As Rudabeh helps the woman out she turns, to find the guard captain standing there, holding her sword. He is imposing up close, a strong man, with broad shoulders and thick arms. The sword lies lightly in his hands, experienced fingers gripping the pommel correctly. His entire form is silhouetted by flame, the sword a flashing bar of light against his black body. For an instant Rudabeh pictures it flashing down on her, her own sword used against her in a vile act of treachery in a temple of Alseta.
Then the man nods and hands her the blade. Quickly he moves to scramble out of the burning building. behind them the roof starts to crack and give way, sending down showers of dust and crackling stone. The sheer weight of the upper floor is bringing the entire structure down onto the weakened ground floor.
With a single careless step Rudabeh's right leg is suddenly wracked with pain, the embers digging into her skin like thousands of tiny, ravenous insects. She cries out at the unexpected flames but does not let go of the priests, instead gritting her teeth and doing everything she can to ignore the pain.
When the last priest is through and she turns to help the guard captain up, Rudabeh stops when she lays eyes on her sword. For a moment she wonders if the gleaming blade and the man wreathed in flames would be the last thing she sees before being whisked off to the Boneyard. Rudabeh's clear eyes, though squinted from the smoke and flames, watch the blade carefully. In the moment she was resigned to her fate if it came flashing down on her. Even though she had failed to save the temple she had saved the priests, and that was good enough for her. It would be a good death, and she would not be ashamed by the irony of being killed by her own sword, for it was dropped to help others.
All her morbid thoughts instantly evaporate as the blade is peacefully turned towards her, and the paladin quickly reclaims her sword from the imposing guardsman. As he starts to climb up the side of the window she lends a hand, pushing the man's large frame up so he can get a firm grip on the window and lift himself out of the building the rest of the way.
As the guardsman's legs disappear to the other side of the window Rudabeh suddenly found herself alone in a burning, collapsing church.
Her armor was so hot. It was so heavy. Her greatsword was too cumbersome, and she didn't know if she could climb out of the window with one hand. If she survived this and she ever found Finn, she vowed to tell her that maybe leather armor and a dagger isn't such a bad idea after all.
Fully aware the seconds were counting down before the building collapsed on top of her, the paladin summons a reserve of self-control tempered by hours of drills; with practiced ease she carefully tips up the sheath on her back even as the smoke assaults her lungs, slides her sword into its scabbard over her shoulder though embers shower down on her, and locks it back into place despite the debris pelting her helmet, finally freeing up both of her hands.
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The widened window opening gives Rudabeh a slight respite from the heat and while she is probably earning herself some nice shiny bruises it is nothing she can't handle. Locking her sword back into place, she turns her back on the fire and toward escape.
She looks at the shattered window, widening from her sword blows. Maybe it was wide enough to fit her...maybe not. Either way just vaulting over the threshold would not be easy. There was an irony in a paladin of Alseta being undone by a poor entryway. Still there is nothing else to do. The way behind her was an utter inferno combined with falling stone and roof, nearly impassable and surely deadly.Girding herself she heaves her bulk to the window, trying to at least land halfway out.
As soon as her arms pass through the opening, she is gripped by a dozen strong arms. Like a fish being pulled to the surface she is drawn up and out, passing through the broken window in a blur. The heavy paladin hits the ground heavily, and is quickly picked up by other helping hands.
Behind her the roar of the flames is louder then ever, a deafening combination of crackling wood, crumbling stone and rushing air. In front of her is a crowd of Pitax citizens, wearing everything from expensive merchant's clothes to the ragged castoffs of a ill-fated peasant. Some are holding torches, other pitchforks or other impromptu weapons. Off to the side the clerics huddle, covered with blankets and being offered water.
She also spots three soldiers being held by the crowd, soot stained and battered. The crowd is not gentle with them and even as Rudabeh watches one woman kicks her captive savagely, making him cry out. Slightly apart is the captain, looking worn and weary. His lip is badly cut and one eye is swollen shut. He is being held by three strong men, who seem to enjoy pining his arms painfully behind his back. However, his eyes are full of fire and defiance. Her is bowed but not broken.
Instantly Samuel is at her side, looking worried, "Oh thank the gods. I was worried you were going to be trapped inside. I was at the back of the crowd...."
With a firey death behind her and uncertain salvation in front of her, Rudabeh claws her way to the window, the leather of her gaunlets and boots scraping against the stone foundation.
She is feverishly atttmpeting to heave herself out when her hands are grabbed, and there was little time to think as she is pulled from the window and onto the ground. She is confused as the manhandling increases until her body is suddenly upright, surrounded by people.
All variety of faces stare back at her, and the paladin looks into them all, dumbfounded. There was so much to process between the huddled priests, the bruised soliders, and the burning church that she didn't know where to start.
Thankfully, Samuel appears, giving her something to focus on. The undine's face, which is a sickly mixture of flushed turquoise skin and black soot, is puncutated by her clear blue and white eyes, and they stare at the rebel leader with a lack of understanding comparable to someone trying to comprehend a foreign langauge.
"Thank the gods? Thank the gods?!" She yells hoarsely, immediately doubling over and coughing for several long seconds. Being bent over hacking out bits of burnt church gives her a moment to calm down, and as she straightens back up she looks to Samuel again. "How can you thank the gods when one of their holy places burns to the ground?" She sweeps her eyes across the crowd. "Do you not see the chaos you all spread? Look at what your unguided fury has wrought!" The paladin yells, gesturing back to the collapsing church behind her.
"You fight for your voice, you fight for your fellows, but WHO do you fight? Do you think it is these soldiers?" Her speech, though hoarse and making her already rough throat hurt, intensifies. "I came to the temple to pray! I saw these soldiers ransacking the temple, knowing they searched for me. I fought them, as it is my duty to protect the sanctity of Alseta's holy ground!" She suddenly points to the lead guardsman. "As their number fell this man ordered a retreat to perserve the lives of his men. I was going to let them leave, for they were only doing as they were ordered. Then, the torches flew in through the windows, and there was no more battle, only flames. I rushed to save the priests as he rushed to help his men escape. He helped them, but then he came back!
Her attention turns to the huddled priests. "That cloak is his own, to shield them from the flames! He helped me clear and lift them to the window!" She shifts back to the guardsman, turning to face him despite the distance. "And when it were only the two of us inside, I turn to see my own sword, which I had dropped, in his hand. He could have struck me down with my own blade, but he returned it! He could have left me for dead in the church, with only the gods to know of his deed, but he did not!"
Her arms, blacked with soot, sweep over the crowd. "Do you see!? The soldiers are not your enemy! They are your neighbors, your countrymen, taking orders and doing their duty because it means their family is fed. Speak to them! Offer them your palm, not your fist! Convince them our fight is their fight, for we fight for all! We do not rise up against the soldiers and threaten their bread, but we fight against the ones that tell them to commit these deeds, the ones that silence your voice so you cannot be heard! King Irovetti and the nobility that guilds themselves at his lapels are the ones we stand against! The decadence of the First Palace, whose fine arts should be open to all instead of being locked up like a fortress only a select few can enjoy, is where we can make change occur! Not burning down churches full of soldiers! Not wildly attacking all who disagree!"
Reaching her limit, Rudabeh feels the weight of fatigue hit her. The burns, the smoke, the crossbow bolt in her elbow, the ringing in her head from being hit with a sword on the jousting field... it all hurt. She hurt. But she had to guide these people. Turn them from a mob into a force that could enact change. "So we gather at the Red Cresent Theatre! We gather so that together, arm and arm, we can march on the First Palace and demand Irovetti give you back your voice! We will demand that each of you be represented! Together! At the Red Cresent!" There was more she wanted to say, but her throat fails her. Nothing else seems to come out, and she stands, breathing heavily as a sudden wave of dizziness nearly overwhlems her.
Rudabeh's voice is not the usual clear, clarion call. Instead is a smoke scarred rasp, wracked by overuse. It is quite clear however and penetrates most of the crowd in front of her. However, they don't seem to like what they are hearing. Rudabeh hears grumbling and muttering, and more then a few dirty looks.
At her side Sameul says, voice lowered, "Rudabeh, take it easy. You just jumped out of a burning building." he grabs her arm and turns her slightly, so his gold eyes are on her aquamarine ones. "You can't just tell these people to walk away, Rudabeh. Those soldiers, they came out in a panic, swinging swords. One of them killed two men before he was taken. You think the crowd will let them go with a kiss and a pat on the head? The people are in an uproar, they only waited this long before killing them because I told them to focus on the fire."
He points and Rudabeh sees a few gangs of men tearing down the buildings on either side of the temple, preventing the fire from spreading.
"Rudabeh, we have to give the crowds something, to keep them on board and under our control. These soldiers would have killed you, if they had the chance. They are just men the crowds may have to fight anyway. I'd rather they do it now, without anymore loss of life. It would also show Irovetti we are serious."
Rudabeh looks into Samuel's eyes while he speaks, at least for a moment. She wants to reply, but can't. Flipping her bag of holding around to the front of her body while he talks, she takes out a bladder full of water and unties it. Given the inside of the bag was an extra-dimensional space exactly the temperature of a nice autumn day, the water she squeezes into her mouth tastes remarkably cool.
The undine greedily guzzles down nearly half the waterskin by the time the sculptor finishes talking, and as she lowers the bag she sighs with relief. It was short-lived, though, as she re-focuses into an expression that could be best described as "not amused".
"Samuel." She begins pointedly, offering him the waterskin. He was probably thirsty too, and even though she was incredibly upset with him it would be rude not to share. "I understand you riled up that crowd with the best of intentions. You saw me fighting ten on one, and didn't recognize I had complete tactical control over the situation nor the fact I was fighting barely trained teenagers trying to capture, not kill me."
Her mouth tightens with restraint, trying not to yell. "But that does not change the fact one of my goddess' churches just burned to the ground because of your actions, with people in it that were just doing their job, after I had successfully routed the soldiers inside. Now you're asking me to feed bodies to this crowd for the sake of controlling them like some kind of rabid hunting hound?"
She leans in close, her voice a cutting whisper, eyes hard as sapphires. "I hate this, Samuel. This is a disgusting subversion of order and law. This is the chaos that I anticipated from the beginning, that I knew deep down I could not control. Maybe you are closer to them than I. Maybe if I listen to you, it will all turn out well in the end. But will my soul remain intact? My oaths? Will I have a goddess to go back to? I am a paladin, not a hired thug, though at the end I may turn into one."
The paladin stands back up straight, and even while clearly exhausted and covered in soot, her impressive height and stature carry significant weight. "If they are going to die anyway," the undine intones with an edge of cynicism, her voice still hoarse but refreshed by the water, "Then they at least deserve a trial."
Sweeping her arm out to the crowd, she calls out. "Bring me the soldiers so they may stand trial for their crimes! I will judge their sins against the People of Pitax."
Samuel pushes the waterskin away, annoyed. [b"Rudabeh, don't you see the danger?"[/b] His eyes rove over the angry, restless crowds, hastily armed. He lowers his voice, "What if they don't listen? You say they are a rabid dog, then fine. Rabid dogs turn on their masters and maul them just as easily. What good is your soul to Pitax if they kill you?"
Rudabeh shouts to the crowds, who raises fists and shout in agreement. This is more what they want to see. Action, justice meted out to deserving victims, power in their hands. In a moment the three soldiers are thrown roughly at her feet, all of them crying out in pain and shock. A pile of disheveled, soot-stained men, bleeding, broken enemies at her feet. She had vanquished them and they had paid the price for their violation of the temple, and of these people. Was this triumph? Standing over a huddle of pitiful souls?
The captain is dragged over but not released. Clearly the citizens think he has some fight left in him. He raises his eyes and makes contact with Rudabeh and there is a note of respect there, but deep despair.
"Do what you must paladin and make it quick. I do not wish for me or my men to be sport for this rabble." One of the men holding him curses and punches the captain in the gut hard, instantly silencing the struggling man. Gasping, he wheezes for breath, struggling to fill battered lungs.
One man of the crowd is standing slightly apart, dressed in finer robes then the rest. A young woman, shorter then most, with styled hair thrown in braids. It takes Rudabeh a moment to recognize her but then it hits her. She was one of the art students Rudabeh met in passing at Irovetti's feast, her night in Pitax. One of Samuel's students? Whoever she was, she was eyeing the fallen soldiers with a hunger that make Rudabeh's blood grow cold.
Rudabeh reties her waterskin and places it back into her bag while Samuel seems to completely misunderstand that her soul belongs to Alseta, not Pitax. She merely shakes her head, turning to the crowd and making her announcement.
The paladin stands before the three soldiers, hands on the faulds of her breastplate, a deep frown creasing her azure lips. Her eyes dart to the captain, and she nods gravely. Casting a glance over the rest of th crowd, Rudabeh spies the young art student... the hunger for violence in the woman's eyes nearly makes her retch. Maybe she would have if there was anything left in her stomach, because she felt as if she was getting punched in the gut just as hard as the guard captain.
Inhaling through her nose, the smell of smoke and sweat and blood assaults her senses before she exhales. She had a part to play in this. She agreed to do this so Pitax could have a better future. This was her part.
"It has been brought to my attention some of these men killed your own on their way out of the church. I stand by what I said before, that there are good people among these soldiers... but indiscriminate killing is unforgivable and must be punished!" She shouts, raising a fist in the air as her raspy voice carries over the crowd.
Walking in front of the first soldier, the paladin reaches over her shoulder as the crowd cheers. Right hand gripping the hilt of her greatsword, The Sixth Peak seems to hiss in delight as it is drawn so soon again. The blade, usually a shining pillar of steel, is covered in baked blade and soot, giving it an almost terrifying, blackened appearance. She places the blade in her left hand briefly, looking at the singed and dirty exterior. Normally Rudabeh could make out her own face in the polished metal, but now... it was not even a smug, just soot and death.
Swinging the sword out of her left hand, she supports the hilt with a single hand, laying the flat of the blade atop the first soldier's head. "State your name." She commands, before looking to the crowd.
"Who here brings forth a grievance committed by this man, so that the Eyes of Alseta may judge the crime?" The paladin intones with a practiced voice, having said the phrase many times.
The crowd wavers as they see Rudabeh, sword unsheathed, standing over the man.It is one thing to be part of a roving mob, delighting in destruction and death, safely hidden among others. The power of the crowd was in anonymity after all, on having no personal accounting your actions. Rudabeh was, cannily, depriving them of this great leveler and exposing them to individual justice, bringing responsibility and reason back to the scene. It was a bold maneuver, one that reflected long years of arbitration.
Finally a man moves forward, head hastily bandaged. He points a finger at the soldier at the paladin's feet. "He killed my brother, he did! When they were running out of that burning building and he hit my head." he touches the bloody rag wrapped around his temple. "Killing should get killing, at least that is what I think!" The crowd rumbles in agreement, pleased someone stood up at the front. Rudabeh notes the art student move into the crowd, whispering here and there, intent.
At her feet the man cowers, grabbing her armored boot like a child clinging to a parent. The captain's face is hard and unreadable, ready for the worst.
Rudabeh looks the man in the eye as he comes forward, intently listening to his testimony. With a nod, she calls out to the crowd. "Is there any willing to stand with this man and second his testimony?"
As the crowd mulls her question, she eyes the art student in the crowd. Something did not sit right about the way the violence-hungry woman was whispering to others, but there was not much she could do about it.
Turning her head to the man that came forward she says plainly, "Thank you for coming forward. Please stay here, I will pass judgement on all of these men at once." Unable to move because there was currently a defeated soldier clining to her boot, the flat of the paladin's sword goes to rest on the next man's head.
"Who here brings forth a grievance committed by this man, so that the Eyes of Alseta may judge the crime?" The same words shout over the crowd, her vision sweeping those assembled for ones willing to volunteer information.
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From the crowd another person steps forward, mud stained clothes marking him as a peasant farmer. "I saw him kill two people. Not sure if it was his brother mind, but two dead ones."
No one speaks up directly to the other two directly, although Rudabeh detects muttering and shuffling from the crowd as he sword passes from head to head. When she reaches the firmly restrained captain he speaks instead, voice breaking the odd silence that Rudabeh has brought about by force of will.
"If you release me, I will fight you again. If you restrain me I will try to escape. This is not a valid court and I do not recognize the power of the mob. Kill me and be done with it, I will not stand idly by while you kill my city."
Obviously waiting for such a chance the art student strides forward, pushing through the crowd. She soon has a commanding place at the edge of the small cleared space around Rudabeh (and her imposing sword).
"Your city?" She says mockingly. "The city you plunder for your daily bread? The city you whip and beat so Irovetti can raise more statues of himself? The city whose streets run with blood and tears everyday?"
She sweeps a hand grandly toward the restless crowd, who clearly prefer this to Rudabeh's cold, calculating justice.
"The city that now, finally, rises against you? We no longer take orders from you, solider, and we have taken the sword from your hand. So speak respectfully to your betters, to your new masters. For this is our city, not yours! We built it, we keep it, and now we shall govern it as we see fit. Today, this very day, we shall tear down the rest of your bloody house and re-build it as a fair and glorious thing worthy of this great land and our people."
She turns to him then, eyes hard and cold. Rudabeh's warrior instincts flare and she senses violence.
'You wish to die? Very well, then you will die."
With a speed like a snake she pulls a glass bottle out of a hidden pocket and hurls it at the man's chest.
Rudabeh nods to the farmer as he steps towards them. "Thank you for coming forward. Please stand by the man whose brother was killed."
Satisfied that the other two had no one come forward, she expects the same as she passes her sword to the captain. She isn't surprised when he speaks up against the ad hoc court she has assembled. Rudabeh is about to explain her intentions when the art student jumps into the fray with fiery words that she definitely has some problems with, though much of it is agreeable.
Something tickles the back of the paladin's head as she sees the woman reach into a hidden pocket, and before any rational thoughts form she kicks off the ground with a puff of soot and leaps in front of the captain.
Rudabeh moves quickly, reactions born of combat, and places her solid armored body between the captive and the projectile. She just has time to see shock, fear and anger flash across the art student's face before Rudabeh's world is engulfed in flame.
The glass bottle shatters against Rudabeh's breastplate and erupts in as whirl of green flame. Sticky burning liquid coats the paladin, burning her armor. Spattered from head to foot, the flames lick hungrily at her, as if trying to reach her flesh underneath,
But her armor is proof against the flames, and only her forehead is singed. The flames however, don't die away but seem to grow instead and Rudabeh worries how she will put out the magical fire. In an instant however, there is a rush of water, like someone dumped a bucket of water over her head. The churning water douses the flames and washes the sticky residue off of her, allowing her to step clear.
Rudabeh spots the cleric she rescued, hand outstretched toward her, face set in concentration.
As the green flames suddenly swirl around Rudabeh's body, she wonders why she automatically took the action she did.
Was it to repay the man for helping the priests and giving back her sword, when he could have struck her down? Was it because she depised the chaos surrounding her, and refused to give in to their thirst for violence masquerading as the slow and logical justice she both practiced and preached?
Maybe it was a combination of two, but she didn't really have time to muse on the matter. The flames weren't dying down, and the next breath she took was so hot it started to remind her of the inside of the church again.
Suddenly, she felt great! A torrent of water splashes down on her head, washing away the wicking flames, cooling her burnt skin, and washing the mud, blood, and soot from her armor. Blinking rapidly to clear the sooty, sweat-salted water out of her eyes, the undine glances around in confusion until she spots theones of the priests of Alseta. A nod of thanks in their direction, and she turns her attention on the art student.
Drawing up to her full height, Rudabeh advances on the student, voice harsh. "You speak of building a fair and glorious place, but your actions speak otherwise!"
Jaw set in extreme disappointment, her cold blue eyes drill into the student's. "You tried to kill a man on a whim simply because you do not like him? Because he merely represents an idea you dislike? A man that has done nothing to you, that no one here brought forth grievances against? Is this the country you want to build, where those that disagree with you only leave their homes at night because they fear being set aflame?" Her anger is barely held in check by her species' emotional control and her oaths, voice edged with a mixture of fury and pity for the woman's lack of understanding.
"You say you fight for the power of the people, but your actions say you want the power to do as you please above all else. Do you not realize whose actions you mirror with your ideas of power and control? Who else uses their position of power to silence voices against them, supresses those that disagree? I question my eyes, therefore I ask..." The shining paladin, her armor cleaned and glistening in the midday sun, sparkles with droplets of falling water as she whirls and shouts to the crowd.
"I ask you, gathered People of Pitax...!" Finishing her turn, she once again looks into the eyes of the art student, voice blazing with righteousness. "Does the next Irovetti reside in the body before me?! Because I can see NO other difference between this woman and he right now!"
The woman looks unabashed at Rudabeh's tongue lashing and opens her mouth to speak but Samuel literally jumps between them. He holds out his arms dramatically, separating them, his own (clean) robes flowing about him.
"Friends! We must be rational. Our good paladin hear speaks the truth, violence among ourselves will only lead to our ruin and the betrayal of what we fight for. Freedom, Justice and Liberty."
"We should not get distracted by trifles when we are on the cusp of a new era in Pitax. There is much work to do, friends, and little time to do. Now is not the time to linger over personal grudges. We serve a higher goal, and seek loftier aims." For a moment he strikes a pose, face shining, lifted towards the bright afternoon sky. A perfect as one of his craven images, poetry in motion. Strong, stable, honest.
Then he points to the captain and the soldiers, "Bind them and gag them. They may be useful in preventing further bloodshed. "
Then he inclines his head to the accused solider, "And Paladin, we desire justice. This one killed one of our own, int he sight of Alseta herself. Will you do us the honor of it?" Although his words are formal, his golden eyes are pleading. He is begging her to do this, to sate the crowd.
"No, Samuel." Rudabeh says strongly as he instructs the captain and soldiers be bound. "I will not let you use these men, who have done nothing against you or these people, as bargaining chips or sources of information. They will not be slaves of moral convenience. I declare the captain and the two soldiers no one brought charges against have served their punishment for whatever crimes they have committed against the Church of Alseta, and they are free to go." The paladin directly challenges him, unwavering in her commitment that the soldiers are not to be hostage to the whims of a crowd.
Rudabeh turns, pleading eyes falling on the Captain, filled with respect and hope that he will see it her way. "You say you will fight if you are released. If you do, I will kill you. If you die..." She gestures to the two innocent soldiers. "There will be no one to lead these men back to their families. I ask you leave peacefully with them, regardless of what you think of my judgements." With a sigh, she turns her gaze on the third soldier, suddenly stoic. "The third one must be punished. I declare him guilty of slaughtering two citizens with no regard for their life. Thus, he will receive a Fate to Fit the Crime. He will be ended by the citizens he killed."
Suddenly whirling on the art student that had thrown the fire at the captain, she extends a hand and gestures to follow. "Come..." She beckons, voice even keeled as if teaching a lesson. "It is easy to throw a flask and let it kill for you, an impartial observer." The paladin speaks as she walks down the row of soldiers, stopping at the first. Handing her greatsword off to a nearby citizen to hold, she grabs the guilty soldier's arms and puts them behind his back, holding his wrists in strong one hand. Her right foot is placed squarely on the small of his back, and she pushes it forward to force him to sit up straight.
Reaching down with her right hand Rudabeh pulls her dagger from her boot by its hilt, nearly a foot of sharp, gleaming steel suddenly exposed to the light. She flips it in her hand and offers it hilt-first to the woman. "But can you look a man in the eye and take his life, snuffing out his future, hearing his last words forever in your dreams? I have taken many lives, and it never gets easier. Though it can be my duty, I do not enjoy killing, and the day I do is the day I will renounce my duty as a paladin. If you think this is easy, if you think you have the wherewithal to deal death to your fellow human so liberally... look this man in the eye and run that dagger across his throat as deep as you can."
If the woman takes the dagger Rudabeh uses her free hand to grab the soldier's forehead and pull it back, exposing his neck and holding fast. She stares at the art student, judging her character. Was she just another young person caught up in the fervor of the crowd, or was she another Dravos Rennert in the making, delighting in destruction? Either she would do it and justice would be done, or she would waver and learn a valuable lesson.
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For an instant Samuel closes his eyes when he hears Rudabeh's words, and his head sinks. A deep breath that turns into a sigh, a single moment of disappointment. Then it passes, and he is standing tall again. His face is hard and he says, voice too quiet for the crowd but clear to Rudabeh, "You can only offer a drowning man a log, you cannot make them take it." And he steps aside, allowing Rudabeh and the young woman (and the crowd) to stand face to face.
The captain takes her words in and tries to straighten but fails, due to the men holding him. Instead he says, voice thick, wavering but growing stronger, "I will go, and take my men, if you see fit. But we will go back to the King and aid him in restoring order to Pitax. You cannot overthrow a lord and cling to justice. There is no middle path, paladin of Alseta, no matter how strong your sword or great your wisdom." He shakes his head but adds, "However, I will walk the road you offer, as far as it goes."
When Rudabeh points at the young woman she visibly wilts for a moment, caught by surprise. Rudabeh is so intense, so masterful, for a moment even the firebrand woman is conquered. She follows Rudabeh, shoulders slumped slightly, head bowed.
As Rudabeh begins the preparations, Samuel rushes up, voice low and intense. "No, Zaria, you can't...Rudabeh, this is madness. What are you hoping to.."
As if he stammering is tonic, the young woman suddenly looks up and catches his eyes in a tight, hard gaze. "No, Samuel. I will do this. For Pitax. For Pitax I will stain every hand in this crowd with blood, starting with my own, if fate demands it."
When Rudabeh offers the sword she takes it in a weak grip, hand wavering. Then she lifts it, doubt vanishing. She doesn't know how to hold it properly, but she is stronger then she looks. It takes all of her effort to lift Sixth peak high but she does, barely.
Breath coming fast with effort she mutters to Rudabeh, "You do this to shame me and my cause, but I will turn it into glory. I care not for what game you play, paladin,my cause is just and I will kill a thousand men. By my own hand if need be." her eyes are ablaze of fervor and emotion.
Holding the blade high she shouts, "May this be the first of many!"
The sword comes down, carried more by its own weight then any skill of Zaria's. The soldier watches in horrid fascination as it slices toward him, A choked scream is cut off as the blade slashes into his neck. The honed steel passes cleanly through then hits the cobbled street, digging the tip into the muddy bricks. The man's head lolls to one side, blood spurting onto Zaira and Rudabeh both, with Samuel jumping clear. The body falls to the ground, spasmodically shaking. Then, somehow, it starts to scream again. The art student's inexpert cut left the throat intact and the man painful, bubbling moans are the stuff of nightmares.
"Butcher." the captain mutters, turning his head away. Zaira watches the dying man in a mixture of horror and fascination. It occurs to the undine, this is probably the first person she has watched die, or at least die a violent death.
It was not Rudabeh's first.
The man continues to writhe in a pool of pool, faintly groaning in pain.
"Are you satisfied?" Samuel hisses in Rudabeh's ear. "Is this the justice you want? Let us leave it and move on. We have work to do, unless you plan to leave it to Dagen."
Before the execution the paladin nods to the Captain, completely understanding his intentions. "As you should. I will inevitably see you again on the battlefield." She thinks for a second before adding, without looking at him. "I believe we could have accomplished great things together, in another time and place. Goodbye."
She takes all the criticism and bluster as it is hurled at her by the woman, saying nothing, face a mask of resigned stoicism. Her sword, even while hefted by the hand of a someone inept in its use, is a killing machine. As it cuts through the condemned soldier's neck and sprays her with blood she makes no effort to move. The solid steel cuisess covering the front of her her thighs are splattered with dark red liquid, pooling and dripping to the ground. She lets go and the condemned man falls to the ground, his screaming beginning again.
Rudabeh does not look away from the man's bubbling screams. She does not flinch. The screams... the metallic smell of blood in the air, on her tongue... It was a good reminder that even properly meted justice has a cost, a lesson she wished to teach everyone present. "I have no intention of shaming you, Zaria." The paladin says calmly over the horrific sounds of a dying man. "I wanted you to see what is on the road to this glory you speak of, so you and others may decide if it is worth it."
In one smooth motion she kneels down, pulls her dagger from its boot sheathe, and slams the foot long blade into the back of the man's neck and through his brain stem. The paladin lingers for a moment in this position to ensure he's dead, then stands up, blood and bits of brain sloughing off her dagger as it's removed from the body.
When Samuel whispers in her ear, she actually laughs. A guffaw at the absurdity of his words that carries over the silence that had surrounded them. "You have learned nothing, Samuel." Her words are raw and disappointed. "But maybe... maybe Zaira and everyone here has." She walks away from him, takes her sword from Zaira, and shoulders it. "I must speak with the priests, then we should leave. To answer your question, no... Frankly, he is not to be trusted."
Walking through the crowd to get to the priests, the paladin looks like some kind of avatar of battle. Huge bloody sword on one shoulder, and a dagger dripping with gore loosely held in her opposite hand. She stops in front of the priests, a deep frown on her face. "I am sorry for all the trouble I have caused you and your child." She says sincerely, bowing her head low. "I do not expect you to Turn the Mask to me... in fact, I will be surprised if I am still a Paladin at the end of this day. But I wanted to thank you for trying to save Benek at the jousting field, and I am glad you escaped unharmed."
Sighing, Rudabeh briefly sucks on her lips in contemplation. "What will you do now? I will assist if I am able."
At Rudabeh's words and the sight of her bloody, gory, smoke-scarred form, the citizens release the captain. He scrambles to his feet, makes eye contact with Rudabeh, and his face is full of confusion and wonder. Then he nods to his men and they run off. A few of the crowd make to chase them but falter as Zaira and everyone else is distracted by the corpse in the street. In a moment the soldiers are gone.
As Rudabeh walks away toward the priests, Samuel merely shakes his head and goes to Zaria, talking in a low voice.
The male priest looks at Rudabeh strangely when she berates herself and shares her growing sense of despair. "You came to help us and then saved our lives in the fire. What is the temple? A building, a building can be rebuilt. My daughter, her son and myself owe you our lives. We will not forget it, RUdabeh of Outsea."
"As for now...there are some Alseta shrines in the woods down the river. The city is plainly unsafe. We shall take refuge with the others, there will be a place for us. I, at least, am known there." Indeed, Rudabeh knows that in many places in the River Kingdoms, a small isolated Alseta shrine, perhaps with a caretaker, perhaps not, is one of the few safe resting places for a traveler.
"But what of you? Will you come with us, and leave these citizens to their bloody struggles alone? There is no shame in letting matters run their course in their own time." His words are enticing but even he does not believe Rudabeh will turn away now.
Rudabeh looks at the captain, her face a placid mask, but her eyes are almost too wide- the look of someone being forced by circumstance to do things they would rather not, someone who is facing an invisible struggle deep in their own mind. She kept telling herself it was all for the greater good, but the chaos swirling around her was almost too much to bear.
She listens to the older priest, for some reason expecting him to be upset with her. Perhaps she had been so disturbed by the events surrounding the out of control crowd, her constant disagreements with Samuel, and t he looming threat of the city tearing itself apart she just assumed everyone was upset with her somehow.
His words touch her with a wisdom that she has never quite achieved for herself, and she feels that his outlook has refocused what she had seconds ago considered a disparaging effort. Rudabeh realizes she had been too enraptured by the minute to minute happenings, and had lost sight of the big picture.
A long pause follows after the priest finishes speaking, Rudabeh's eyes have fallen to the ground when he begins asking about she will do now. "I must stay." She finally replies, looking up. "Thank you. You have reminded me that the brick and mortar of this city means nothing compared to the people that inhabit it. I must stay, because I must protect families and communities from being shattered by the violence that now hangs over their daily lives. Whether I meant to or not, I have triggered a civil war and I must see it through in a way that will please Alseta and benefit the people of Pitax."
She seems refocused, jaw set in a determined manner. It was the communities, families, traditions, and well being of the city that Alseta would want her to protect, and in the end that is what she is trying to accomplish.
Rudabeh sets the bloody dagger on the ground for a moment and reaches to her back to swing her bag of holding around to an accessible position. Popping the clasp on the decorated cowhide bag, she reaches into the cool recess of its extra-dimensional space and wills a previously prepared bag of coins to fall into her hand.
The bag is extracted and the magical item affixed again on her back before she offers the thirty gold coins to the priests, all widely accepted Daggermark crowns. "Please, take this. Inside are ten gold pieces for each of you. I will worry about you less if you hire the best river pilot still on the docks and leave the city as soon as possible."
Whether or not they take the coins, she ends up swinging her sword from her shoulder, tip gently meeting the mortar of the muddy bricked street. She places gauntlet hands on each side of the guards of her sword and kneels, one metal poleyn covering her knee touching the ground. Bowing her head, it touches the flat of The Sixth Peak's long blade nearly a foot from the pommel. "All I ask in return is for to you join me in praying to our goddess to watch over the communities that make up this city, and for your names so I may ask her to petition Hanspur for your safe passage."
The man takes the money but says, "Just so you know, we will probably end up giving much of it away to those more needy then us. Even if you succeed here, there will be many refugees. I would guess there are already many heading out of the city to avoid the violence." He grips the moneybag tightly and says, voice touched with emotion, "But thank you. I hope we may meet yet, through another, more kinder doorway."
He stands up and, handing the money to his daughter, touches Rudabeh's bowed shoulder. "Hear me, Alseta, the Welcomer. Heed the words of Daveer, your servants, and those of his daughter Helen and her daughter Jialier. These are times of great turmoil and trial but such times are your time as well. Change is under your care and great deeds are your purview, if they are done with open heart, with the good of the community. I implore you, watch over your servant Rudabeh, this paladin. She has done well this day, and I will give witness of it, if you ask this of me. May you help her transition from skilled warrior to wise consuler, from humble servant to respected leader and yet leave gentle heart unchanged. May you also be gentle with Pitax and make these changes, these birthing pains, as easy as you can. A Door Must Open, and let us walk through it as best we can." He lowers his head for a silent moment, untouched by the chaos around them all.
Then the moment passes. With a final nod of farewell Davver says, "Good luck, paladin. You shall need it, and I do not need to consult Alseta to recognize that. Know your good deed will be sent on ahead of you, whether you stand or fall."
Gathering up his daughter and granddaughter, they are soon forging a path through the crowd to the streets beyond.
Rudabeh nods her head gravely, nonplussed that he would use the money for others. "It is yours now to do with as you wish, I just ask you use as much as you need to become comfortable before donating the rest." She intones before kneeling.
The paladin closes her eyes while the experienced priest speaks, opening her heart and soul to his words. For just a moment she was floating on a raft of truth and order while a raging sea of chaos churns and froaths with blood.
My goddess, please give me the courage to stand amongst this chaos and shape it into something that benefits us all. Chaos has followed me to the home of your priests and destroyed it, chaos that follows me as a fire follows kindling, leaving a path of destruction. Though I try to lead it in a manner that it will burn safely, I have caused great pain in my wake and ask for your forgiveness. She prays briefly while Daveer is finishing up his own prayer. Please let Daveer, Helen, and Jialier find a safe passage out of the city. They have given me a window of insight that I had foolishly missed, and served this community well. Your humble servant beseeches you; please watch over their journey and please dissuade Hanspur from any hasty action against them as they travel his rivers.
She looks up after her own prayer is finished. "A Door Must Open." Rudabeh repeats, listening to Daveer's goodbye as she slowly stands back up. Her left leg was still burnt, the charred flesh angrily flaring with pain as her breeches rub against them. Her elbow, too, seems to move sluggishly, dulling throbbing with pain as the sliver of crossbow bolt stuck inside becomes inflamed.
All that was ignored, however, and she smiles at the family when they leave. "May the Welcomer watch over us all in this time of tumultuous change." Is her final goodbye, her eyes following them briefly through the crowd until they disappear.
Grabbing a cloth from her bag the paladin quickly wipes off her dagger and puts it away before turning her attention to her sword. It was covered in dried blood, some burnt onto the steel by the flames in the church, and one of the edges looked like it has been blunted by Zaira's inexperiened use of the blade. She wipes off what she can, but the sword was looking well used already today... and the sun was still high in the sky.
Rudabeh returns to Samuel with her weapons stored, her slightly burnt and ash-blacked face seeming more at peace despite her obvious wounds. "I am ready." She says simply, the moment of prayer and peace giving her a reinvirogation of the spirit. "Let us go, for there is much to do before peace and fairness is once again the norm in Pitax."
Samuel is stilling talking to Zaira when Rudabeh comes up, and the two fall silent. Both of the artists stare at the grim warrior for a long moment, and Rudabeh (with slight amusement) gets the feeling both are imaging her as part of a painting or sculpture. How would they decrepit her? A dedicated and formidable leader, guiding a mass of the citizens to greater freedom? Or a blood soaked ogre who hid behind a thin veneer of faith to disguised her killing?
In any case Zaira steps aside, letting Sameul and Rudabeh lead the crowd up the street, back toward where they had come. There are probably three hundred that follow them, many bearing torches, others having hammers, pitchforks, makeshift clubs. The few bearing axes are probably the best armed, but Shalina does spot a good many with daggers and other smaller weapons.
Ahead Rudabeh sees an obstruction across the road. Is this what the crowd was milling around before? What was it...
As they get closer, it resolves into vision. It is a jumbled pile of debris that stretches from house to house, fully blocking the street. The structure is made up of everything from overturned wagons, to household furniture to the demolished remains of storefronts and shop stalls. The paladin even sees a few more manageable pieces of Irovetti's street statuary in the mix. The barricade rises above even Rudabeh's head, topping at probably ten feet and would be a formidable obstruction to any troop movements.
"They were worried Irovetti's soldiers would seize control of the streets. The barricade was Zari'as idea." Samuel says, "She says there are others going up all over the city. We will have to cross it to get to the Red Cresent. I think we should leave it in place, at the least as a rallying sign."
Rudabeh walks in front of the crowd, looking at the various people gathered. They were numerous but ill-equipped. In situations like this she knew that if they went against real armed and armored guards it would be a bloodbath, with moral being the most important factor in keeping people fighting. The very thought of leading the common citizen into a battle made her stomach turn- these were the people she was supposed to be protecting by fighting for them, not with them.
The paladin is silent on the approach to the barrier, head craning upward as she gets nearer. "In any other circumstance this would be a violation of the River Freedom Walk Any Road, but considering it was put up by the people themselves and not the government I don't think it's worth the time to debate semantics or remove it." She says evenly, demonstrating that while she is almost always standing on the side of any issue and observing it objectively and in the light of established laws and culture, she at least had an understanding for circumstance and intent when it came to minor issues.
"Overall, a sound tactical decision." The undine says to Zaria, looking towards the young student and nodding. "I agree it should stay." She finishes while trying to pik a path through the debris with her eyes, then leading the climb over the barrier.
Rudabeh begins the awkward ascent. Luckily the barricade seems to be facing the other way, so the slope, white steep, is not totally sheer and unclimbable. The many piled objects give useful handholds as well so Rudabeh manages well enough. Behind her the crowd follows, taking their time to surmount the pile making a great deal of noise. But Rudabeh's quick ears hear more sounds...ahead of them, from the other side of the barrier. The sound of marching feet and barking orders. With a sinking, knowing feeling Rudabeh speeds up and reaches the crest of the debris in a few moments, regretting but knowing what lies on the other side.
There, spread out on the wide, well paved street is a detachment of soldiers. Probably fifty or so, clad in leather and mailed armor, most with swords although a few have axes. At their organized and orderly head is an unwelcome face. Lord Goldwin 'the White' the knight who tried to attack her on the jousting ground and insulted her species. At his side is an unarmed young man with the robes and build of a wizard. Goldwin's head snaps up when Rudabeh surmounts the barricade, but she is too distant to see his face clearly.
Behind and around Rudabeh others are coming up and seeing the assembled forces. There is a moment of surprise and shock but then, to Rudabeh's surprise, they rally. Many pick up bricks or wooden items to use as clubs while those with actually items take up positions at the very top. The crowd starts roaring insults and curses at the soldiers, who don't look very intimidating over ten feet below. The 'outer' wall of the barricade rises like a wooden wall, a rough and steep slope that Rudabeh's tactical mind sees as a serious obstacle.
Goldwin turns to the wizard next to him, obviously speaking. The young man nods and waves his hand. Suddenly Goldwin's voice booms out, loud enough to silence the heckling and cheering of the crowd.
"By the orders of the King, I order you to disperse and return to your homes. This is an unlawful gathering and has been started by outside troublemakers! All those who refuse to follow these orders will be brought under arrest and given serve punishment."
A pause then, "This will be your only chance to surrender. I suggest you take it before I force you."
Samuel looks to Rudabeh and gestures as if to say, Well, you are the symbol of revolt.
Rudabeh pauses momentarily in her climb, ear fans straining against the inside of her helmet. The marching of heavy boots was unmistakable, and she was not surprised by the sight that waited her as she crested the barricade.
The paladin wishes she was surprised to see Goldwin, but it was abundantly clear that Irovetti was attempting to build a kingdom structure similar to a feudal system with nobility leading the military.
As the soldiers come to a stop before them, the paladin is already reaching into her bag of holding. While Goldwin yells at them she has drawn an oaken bowstave, string, and a quiver of arrows from the extradimensional space.
"UNLAWFUL?!" She shouts as he finishes, slinging the quiver around her waist to fit between her greatsword and the small of her back.
"What do you know of Law, Goldwin? You serve a King that subverts Say What You Will for his own ego." Her words start to carry over the crowd while she plants the bowstave into the table below her to stabilize it. "You serve a King that ordered a calvery charge on his own people for expressing their views." She loops the strings around the bottom of the stave, pulling it to the top. "You defended a man I condemed to death after I personally witnessed him murder an innocent boy under the guide of sport!"
Pulling hard on the top of the stave she fits the string into the notch at the top, and the recurve bow takes its intended shape. "You know nothing of Law, and understand this gathering even less. Pitax must change, its people can no longer be repressed! They should no longer be afraid to leave their homes at night! They should no longer wonder where their loved ones have gone when they suddenly vanish!"
The paladin lifts up her leg to anchor her left foot on a nearby chair, then rests the taut bow on that knee. "You soldiers, has this not happened to ones you know? You are citizens of this city as well, and you are not insulated from the opression Irovetti and his nobles breed!" She reaches towards her back and draws an arrow from the quiver, the cold-iron tipped missile designed for killing Fey... but it would work just as well on humans.
"Do you not see what is about to happen?" She continues to proselytize to the soldiers behind Goldin. "This "noble" is going to send you to your deaths for no other cause than to repress the voice of your fellow man! You are tactically outmanuevered, outnumbered six to one, and still Goldwin will order you to charge this barricade because he does not care about your lives!"
Her voices booms down the street, echoing between the buildings. "So when your men-at-arms begin to die around you because of this man's negligance and the retreat is sounded, do not flee so you may recieve a pitchfork in your back! Instead drop your weapon, throw up your arms, and we will give you mercy! You may join us in fighting for the freedom of your fellows instead of dying for the whims of a noble!"
The arrow in her right hand slides up the string, and she sets her shoulders towards the gathered force in front of her. "Choose, Goldwin! Choose to send these men to their deaths, or surrender their arms to the people so that they may see their families tonight! I warn you- if you choose to test the Will of the People, you will find it unwavering!"
The crowd behind Rudabeh roars in approval and sends down a hail of bricks, bits of wood and street garbage. None of it reaches the troops but Goldwin has to take a hasty step back to avoid being pelted with rotten fruit and stones.
Rudabeh notes the soldiers look quite unenthusiastic about charging a fortified position filled with angry and armed fellow citizens.
Voice shrill, Goldwin says, "Very well. On your head be it. The King does not treat with unrepentant rebels. This blood is on your hands, not mine."
He turns to his men, gesturing wildly, "They have turned Pitax into a joke, and made a mockery of our King. They have destroyed roads, burned houses and looted shops. This ends now. Tear down his wall!"
Then he nods to the wizard. The young man steps forward, looking nervous. Rudabeh has a feeling, unlike the rather hardened looking soldiers, this is probably his first real fight. He actually rolls up his sleeves before thrusting out his hands and shouting some arcane words.
Instantly a blazing sphere of fire appears in front of him, an incandescent ball of blue flame. With a flick of his wrist it hurtles towards the barricade slamming into the base. Then, to Rudabeh's surprise, it starts to slowly roll up the steep slope.
While impressive, it does mean part of the barricade is aflame and the troops, marching forward, are loathe to get near the burning parts. Therefore the troops concentrate on the far ends of each barricade, and start pulling and tearing it down while the middle part (under Rudabeh) starts to catch alight. A few more intrepid soldiers start to clamber up the wooden wall, cursing as they come.
Rudabeh is not surprised as Goldwin follows her predicted course of action, and the paladin shakes her head in disappointment. If the losses come quickly, these men will hopefully rout.
Her eyes fall on the wizard as he steps forward, and she can instantly tell this is no battle-scarred magus or sellspell, but some wizard Irovetti had sitting around to perform some other function. Cocking her head, she briefly wonders if this was the chef she suspected made the food taste so good...
The innocent musing is interrupted when an orb of rolling blue flame suddenly springs into existence and starts to approach on her position. Azure eyebrows high on her head, she fearlessly stands her ground and draws the lacquered oak longbow up in front of her. A few arrows and he should run. She thinks quickly of the wizard, knowing what a threat arcane magic is to this large of a group of people
Knocking an arrow into the string Rudabeh gracefully pulls the eggshell white goose feather fetching to her turquoise cheek, and she aims for the center of the wizard's mass. Finn's voice echos through her mind as she looses... Any old soldier will tell you; Always kill the one in the dress!,
The arrow buzzes as it flies through the air, drilling directly towards the pale faced wizard. At the last moment he glances up from his burning spell, face frowning with concentration. Then his eyes widen as the the nearly three foot long arrow slams into his chest near one of his shoudlers.
He staggers back, one hand going to the wooden shaft, while blood dribbles out of his mouth. For a moment, to Rudabeh's delight, it looks like the wizard is already going to run but in an instant Goldwin is there, holding the man's shoulder in an armored grip. He mutters something in his ear that makes the wounded man stiffen.
Then Rudabeh is distracted and she hears shouts and screams from her left. There, despite the hail of stones and boards, a few soldiers are nearly half way to the top of the barricade. A few citizens, more foolish then others, have descended to fight them hand to hand. Already a dozen lie dead, cut on blades they have no chance of matching. Below them, the soldiers are already well on the way to clearing a path through the barricade, happily tearing the neighboring buildings apart as they do so.
In front of her the crackling sound of the Sphere increases as it vaults up the wooden barricade, igniting objects as it rolls upward. Old wagons, lacquered tables, dry old doors all provide kindling to the hungry flames. In a few seconds however, the main mass will be upon her.
Above it Goldwin roars, "Take it down! The King is counting on you!"
Samuel is running along the treacherous crest toward Rudabeh. He waves his hands to the advancing soldiers, "They need help Rudabeh, we don't have many soldiers among us. If only Zhuk was here." He adds as an after thought. 'The people will break if we lose too many."
On the right side Zaira is there, shrieking like a mad woman, assaulting the line with bare hands with enough ferocity to push back the bunched up soldiers. One front at least is holding.
Her attention is snapped back to the caster as he, swaying slightly on his feet casts another spell. He flexes his fingers and this time nothing happens. At least at first.
Then, welling from from the battered trunks and piled tables at her feet, a thick film of slick grease arises. Her previously solid stance starts to slid as her boots lose purchase.
But Finn made footwork a critical part of her training. Somewhere the old mercenary smiles as her student plants her armored boots among the intertwined rubble and stays upright.
Goldwin, looking disgusted, draws his sword and starts to stalk toward the barricade, armor glinting in the late afternoon sun.
Rudabeh feels nothing as the arrow connects with the wizard's body, but disappointment creeps into her face when he is forced to stay by Goldwin.
Reaching into her quiver for another arrow, the paladin takes another goose-feathered arrow between her fingers when Samuel runs up, her head turning towards him. "No "if only's" on the battlefield, Samuel...." The paladin says cooly, noting that the sculptor really didn't like it when things were out of his control... which on the battlefield, was always. Before she can go any further with her musings, something makes her ears stiffen within her helmet.
The undine's feet are suddenly sliding across the table she had been occupying, but it only takes a moment before her boots are planted into fortuitously adjacent cabinet drawers. "It's bad for morale." Rudabeh finishes her previous sentence and straightens her back, knocking another arrow into her bow with seemingly little concern for the fiery orb speeding towards her.
Taking careful aim, she looses the second arrow towards the wizard, intent on chasing him off of the battlefield with the greatest of all motivators: fear of death.
After the arrow was off she attempts to move from her spot, but every time the she tries to stabilize one foot, the other begins to slide, so she ends up going no where.
Unable to move and facing down a giant flaming ball, Rudabeh sets her jaw and grabs another arrow, knocking it without taking eyes off the wizard. It was clear that if he didn't run, she was going to keep shooting at him- regardless of flaming ball, Goldwin, or Rovagug showing up at this very moment.
Rudabeh's aim is a honed thing, although a wizard is hardly a tough target, at least compared to the twisting, spinning, tiny plates Finn used to set out for her. The second arrow follows the first, directly hitting the now solitary wizard. This second blow makes him crumple to his knees. To her dismay however, the paladin sees him pulling out a potion, of what is probably healing. Still, he is probably out of the action for the moment.
But the undine has little time to deal with that as she tries to move out of her greasy spot and help the others. It isn't easy as the jumble of shifting objects is well lubricated at this point but she manages without falling and making herself look like a fool. Samuel helps her, grabbing one of her armored arms. "Burned charred to a crisp is also bad for morale." he mutters, looking quite out of place on a battlefield. But at least he is still here and hasn't run away. That's something.
Looking onward, Rudabeh can see the citizens are hard pressed. The soldiers who climbed up have nearly reached the crest, beating back the civilians, who despite causalities have not yet given up. Down below they have nearly cleared a haphazard path through the barricade, which would allow a total encirclement of the fortification and disaster.
Such tactical thoughts are halted however as the burning ball crests the top of the barricade, only just missing where she stands. The heat makes her blink as the fireball flies off into midair then vanishes, the spell over. Rudabeh just has time to let out a sigh of relief before she sees the inferno has managed to catch the grease on fire....a trail of which leads directly to her feet. Before she has time to do anything, blue flames race across the barricade and lap at her armored feet.
It burns hot, but doesn't catch, the trail being too thin. The path of the flaming sphere is still burning however, slowly working outward from the middle.
Goldwin is still coming up, obviously waiting to see where Rudabeh will enter the fray, hoping to meet her directly.
With the wizard out of comission a minor victory was achieved- she knew a spellcaster could easily turn the tide of any battle in an instant. Hopefully he would stay down, partly because she didn't want to kill him (what a waste of talent), but mostly because she was needed elsewhere.
Rudabeh uses Samuel's help to pick herself out of the grease patch, more of sliding rather than walking. "Thank you." She says while glancing around at the battlefield, noting several points of weakness among the barricade's defenses.
That was, until the flames rushed up to meet her. Reflexively throwing up her arms as the blue fire quickly sorches her feet, Rudabeh coughs as the superheated air reaches her lungs. The stalwart warrior shakes it off with a gritting of her teeth, but the undine decided she was done with fire for the day, maybe forever.
"Please take my bow, I may need it again if the wizard starts casting." She says, not even bothering to hand if off to Samuel but instead placing it on a nearby table. Used to working alone, the paladin suddenly realizes how useful squires are.
Climbing towards the left flank, Rudabeh reaches the crest and draws her greatsword. The soldiers struggling to get up the piles of debris only have time to see her shining blue-and-silver form fittingly push aside a (frankly) poorly done painting of Irovetti before five feet of sooty and blood-caked steel is swung in their direction. "Their wizard is down! Push them back! For Pitax!" She shouts in an effort to rally the flagging crowd. There wasn't really any time to truly organize or energize them, but anything would do at this point.
With wide, powerful swings she attempts to knock them off into the worker soliders below more than she is trying to harm them. A quick and cold battlefield calculation tells her that if enough bodies, wounded or dead, choke up the space below it should halt the destruction of the barricade.
Rudabeh moves quickly, laying her bow aside and drawing her sword. Her warcry sounds out over both the shouting mix of soldiers and citizens as well as the crackling burning of the barricade.
Rudabeh's first blow lands like a thunderbolt onto the leading guard. It smashes through his armor, slicing through metal and leather with equal ease. Overwhelmed, the main loses his grips and falls down onto his comrades below, his crash halting the work.
The citizens rally, with a trained warrior in their midst. With Rudabeh among them, it is possible they could hold the barricade or at least make the soldiers pay a heavy price.
Samuel is behind her, holding the bow and obviously having no idea how to use it.
Below, Goldwin reaches the mass of soldiers and starts yelling at them to pull down the barricade. He looks up, makes eye contact with Rudabeh and starts climbing up himself. Rudabeh notes a aura of force around him that makes her think of Mage Armor. The knight seems to be a surprisingly strong climber and will reach the top quickly.
One of the other soldiers near the crest lashes out at Rudabeh's feet with his blade.
Her thick armor turns the blade however, and all he creates is a shower of sparks and his own curse.
The kinetic impact of her greastsword against the man's body send a shock through Rudabeh's arm, and she feels a sudden sting in her elbow where the crossbow bolt was still lodged.
Gritting through the pain, she swings her sword in a downward sweep meant to take off the nearest soldier's fingers or split their hand open. Instead, she finds it is nearly impossible to follow through with the strike due to her sluggish left arm, and her sword lacks the power to even pierce a leather gaunlet.
Lifting up her blade up slightly and sliding her right foot back, Rudabeh assumes the middle boar's tooth guard, the tip of her sword pointed at an angle and into the faces of the climbing soldiers. She may have failed on the offensive, but any climbing up the barricade would likely lose an eye if she stabbed fro this position.
Looking up for one moment, she looks in Goldwin's direction, concentrating briefly on the man's aura. She spots the other magical shimmeringas well, noting she may need divine assitance in penetrating such a defense.
Rudabeh calls on divine aid and begins the process of summoning Alseta's martial help. She doesn't get a good answer on what effect Goldwin is over however, or what is helping him climb up the wooden pile so quickly. For all of her great skills, Finn had never been an expert on identifying spells.
The soldier she misses manages to get past her guard and tries to strike her again.
His blow merely bounces off the paladin's armor, and it is clear most of Irovetti's soldiers are unused to fighting someone in full plate. Below Godlwin is vaulting up the last distance to reach Rudabeh, rage shining on his face.
In a risky move, Rudabeh leaves herself open, betting the soldier's sword would bounce off her greaves. When he commits to the attack, she lunges forward from her middle boar tooth stance. As her opponent's sword connects with her armor she is ramming the tip of her blade directly into his chest.
The paladin attempts to pull her weapon back, but the The Sixth Peak seems lodged between the man's ribs. Stepping up, Rudabeh kicks the man off her sword, sending him tumbling down the barricade and into the workers below.
"Hello, Goldwin!" She says politely, voice raised to carry over the pitched battle. "I must commend you for not hiding behind your troops." The tip of Rudabeh's sword drips crimson as she pulls it back into middle boar tooth stance, dangerously threatening any that would come to meet her.
While her words are polite, the undine's eyes are hard sapphires. "Unfortunately, I passed judgement on you earlier today. For interfering with the punishment of Dravos Rennert and attacking a paladin I sentence you to death. By the power invested in me by Alseta, I smite you, Goldwin." The words that come out of her mouth carry a strange force, and Goldwin can feel something foreign pressing down on him- the aura of Divine Law emanating from Rudabeh.
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The man Rudabeh kicks down the barricade lands with a sickening crunch onto the stone street below, and a detached part of her brain suspect he didn't survive the fall. The work is once again halted and without Goldwin there to roar orders, doesn't start up again. Into their hole, the citizens throw more debris, a cascade of projectiles, some of them heavy enough to severely hurt.
The wizard is nowhere to be seen.
Goldwin crests the barricade and takes up position a few feet away, just out of Rudabeh's reach. Around him Rudabeh can see not only the nimbus of whatever spell is helping protect him but the flash of her Smite, a sign of Alseta's disfavor on this chaotic and violent man.
The older man glares at her polite tone. "You can leave the talk of law for the peasants, undine. We both know you are here to destroy Irvoetti and his followers and put your own faction into place. But enough of that. All I need to do is kill you and this whole little rebellion will go up in smoke."
The knight pulls out a glittering potion from a pouch at his belt, grins, then drinks it in one smooth gulp. He tosses the glass onto the barricade. A shudder passes through his body, as if he got a chill. Then he starts to....grow. Arms, legs, even his fat neck start to expand, the metal armor keeping pace, expanding rapidly as the magic pulses through him. Goldwin throws his head back and laughs as the barricade shudders and partially crumbles beneath his new bulk. But the citizens built it too well and the structure holds the weight of the suddenly towering man.
The knight clenches one massive fist and then plunges it into the tangle of broken and piled items, like a child digging for sweets. Ina n instant he pulls up a flagpole, with a jagged, shattered end. He wields it like a lesser man might a spear, holding it out in from of him. Goldwin roars in victory, spit flying from his enlarged mouth, eyes wild. Behind him the leaping flames from the burning barricade frame him against the darkening evening sky, looking like some primordial monster rising from the very chaos of the streets below.
Rudabeh merely smiles sweetly at Goldwin, entertaining his strange notion of the events occuring around him. Her expressive face rapidly switches to concern when he pulls out a potion, and then surprise when he begins to swell to a massive size.
The paladin lowers her weapon briefly, staring at the monstrosity in front of her, wreathed in flames and rummaging through the debris like some kind of oversized, armored boar. Chaos... behind me, in front of me. Rudabeh thinks, face settling into a peaceful stoicism. I thought I was spreading it, but these men under Irovetti... they are the true chaos in this land.
This is the chaos Alseta entrusts me to eradicate.
She lifts her free hand up to her chest, and the warm white light of positive energy flows from her fingers into her body. The crossbow bolt, forced out of its wound from expanding turqoise flesh, becomes caught in the chainmail covering her elbows. But it no longer impares her movements.
Her legs feel cooler, the multitude of burns they have suffered over the past hour fading from burnt skin to angry, almost purple flesh. She hurts, but it is easier to move.
By the time flagpole is brought to bear against her, she doesn't flinch. Twice today I have found good, honorable fights to die in. She briefly muses, lifting her sword with her right hand hands, shouldering it by placing it in the crook of her neck lined with shining mail. Alseta, my goddess... Thank you for lending me your aid. I promise to see Pitax through to a brighter future for all, or I will die trying.
A brief prayer runs through her mind while Goldwin is laughing, clearly mad with power. But by the time he settles down and has laid eyes on her once again, the undine is smiling. Charred and dry azure lips frame her slightly pointed, perfectly white teeth, making up a smile that, to Goldwin, may seem the smile of someone that is completely sure of themself.
But if there are any old soldiers making up the contingent surrounding them, they would see the smile differently- the Paladin is completely fearless and totally at ease with the possibiliy of her impending death. The kind of smile that beserkers always seem to wear in a fight. The kind of smile that you don't want to be facing.
"Do not worry, Goldwin!" Rudabeh shouts as she looks at the path between them, picking out the least hazardous route. "As a favor, I will ensure your tombstone will not read killed by a wetskin!" The words reveal that despite her stoic demeanor at the joust and her smile now, she did, secretly, take offense to his offensive slurs.
Leaping from the barricade she nearly slides towards the giant Goldwin, but finds her footing quickly. Between her and the huge man were several other pitfalls in the form of overturned furniture and assorted junk, and she leaps over them with all the strength her legs can muster.
Despite her taunt, Rudabeh has no idea what she is doing. She never trained to fight against giants, but Finn once told her: You can't train for everything. When you get good enough, you can improvise masterfully, and everyone watching will think you knew exactly what you were doing. Those moments... are the kind of moments bards write stories about.
Her mentor's words float through her mind as she watches the tip of the flagpole. As Goldwin thrusts the jagged weapon towards her, the last part of Finn's commentary on improvising clicks into place They usually don't sing about it if you die first, though.
With such poor footing to dodge she grits her teeth and hopes her armor can take the blow, Rudabeh moving with desperate energy to get inside of his reach. The moment she arrives her blade shifts from her shoulder and into her hands, the blood-covered tip flinging droplets into the air as she rapidly brings it to bear.
Her trained eyes spy something, much bigger than normal due to Goldwin's enhanced size; the gap in his armor between his hip and thigh, only covered in leather and cloth.
With a resounding cry she steps forward and stabs The Sixth Peak towards the weak point in his armor, putting every ounce of strength in her arms into the blow.