Jack looks mad. Very mad, but he nods to Sallrana. As he walks down the street he keeps an eye out for a tree or post he can use as a weapon.
He also injects himself. Three times.
As he walks he grows, once again becoming the monstrosity from last night.
"It's gonna be fine Jack. They'll either give us your friends or they'll regret not doing so." Roger hustles to keep pace with the rest of the group.
As Miria disappears into the crowd, blending in as naturally as if she had been born in it, the rest of you make your way through the early morning streets towards the jutting docklands. Those in your way move worriedly at seeing the looks on your face, and those not quick enough are pushed aside by Jack, moving with the single purpose of a glacier and cutting a path through the crowd with a combination of determination and sheer size.
You come to the nexus of the crowd after a few minutes, a group of hundreds of citizens stood in silence as they listen to what you initially assume (before you can see the situation fully) are the proclamations of a judge, or executioner. A strong, firm voice calling for justice to be served issuing forth from a makeshift gibbet erected out on a far dock, the entire scene framed by the distant gateway.
As you push forward you get a clearer idea of the scene.
The two orcs are there, as you expected, and they are indeed Tretotten and his clan-leader, Tarun (still looking sickly and pale from the injuries he sustained through the gateway). They stand blindfolded, wiry bodies tense in the brisk morning air.
To each side of them stands a human - the two speech-makers from the boat that brought you here, the mage Olwyn and Yvenor, the Hawcroft Industrial representative. The mage looks just as he did yesterday, save for the addition of the blindfold, and where the two orcs stand tall in the face of their punishment he cowers and shivers. But Yvenor...
He has been stripped to the waist, and his skin is bloody and cut from neck to belt - he is being whipped, slowly and deliberately, by a hooded man standing to his right. As you watch the lash falls again, opening up another shallow wound, and Yvenor flinches as it does so but keeps standing, and keeps speaking, taking the punishment as though he had Jack's own toughness in his all-too human body. The voice you heard calling for justice was his, and where you expected to find the crowd cheering at the upcoming execution you find them listening, silently, listening to this man as he takes the lash over and over, listening to him argue - that the orcs and mage should be freed.
It takes you a few moments to make sure you hear him right - he is arguing for his own death to be the only needed, taking responsibility for the entire situation onto his own bloodied shoulders.
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John casts a spell quickly ( shield of faith) and then pulls out his pistol and fires it into the air.
Stop this travesty of justice now. John quickly reloads as he moves forward, surveying the opposition. His torc activates a shield spell as he does so. As he does this he casts weapon of awe on his weapon. His eyes glint with artic cold fury as he does so.
In the name of abador, lord of law and civilization, in the name of justice, stand down.
John stands there, his pistol not yet aimed, but seeming glowing with power and lethality.
Rick activates Message and whisper to John
He then tries to dodge the crowd and guards and get up on the dock.
"No, fellow citizen! This is Justice! This men have been found guilty if opening that portal beside our peaceful island, with the intent of destroying our homes! Thus, lower your weapon and speak freely, cause if you consider this as an unjust act, that's because you have something in mind that might have been missed by us. What is it?"
As the others get to the throng, hooded and hidding her face, Sallrana peels off, moving close to feel the mood of those around her .
::"Well, well, well, Yvenor, you have got yourself in a bit of a spot, well the good news, The others really feel the need to save the Orcs. The Bad news, this could get really messy. So you have to tell me, do you wish me to try and save you and the Mage at the same time?."::
She pays heed to the Mage, seeing how he is bound.
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John moves forward towards the gibbet, Jack beside him (he assumes).
is this the way justice is administered in this city. By mob and panic. Surely you are better than this. Was there a fair and open trial. Clear evidence. I think not. One day ago I saw these men free, so if there was a trial it was very short. Do not put this stain on yourself and your home. I know for a fact that those two orcs are no more perpetrators of this act than you. Victims of it, yes. But culpable, no. And these other two are your best hope to solve this problem. Let us reason this out, as reasonable people. Otherwise things may grow...tense.
plus any bonuses from my prior intimidation and hopefully the speech.
Roger begins shoving his way towards the stage, moving people bodily as necessary. As the crowd gets thicker near the stage, he takes a deep breath and bellows at the top of his lungs "EVERYBODY MOVE!" in his scariest voice.
finishing his movement, Roger pulls himself up one-handed, as his other hand is busy clearing his sword from it's sheath.
"Now, then, what's this I hear about you killing people? You aught to reconsider, or did last night's lesson not teach you guys?"
Sallrana see's a lurker selling bags of roasted nuts in the throng.
She hands over a copper for a bag, takes one and pops it in her mouth.
Then turning to a woman next to her says.
"This really is a good show, I was worried it was going to be dull as the last hanging, why they did away with trail by combat ill never know. A good duel to the blood, o well."
she offers her bag of nuts to the woman.
As she dos this She looks to see how the others are spaced out, seeking roots for there egress. Under her clothing she places her hand on her revolver.
Nothing moves a mob faster then a few well placed shots in the air.
Just then john dos just that, and the farce on the stage starts.
Save the orcs and the mage if you can. They're not going to let us out of this without some blood spilled, and it would be most... economically viable... if that were mine.
The executioner seems to lose focus, standing with his jaw slack behind his hood as the small man in front of him addressed the crowd (already turning in fear as a response to the shots fired into the air). With the new quiet that reigned on the dockside in the wake of the gunshot, and with the Hawcroft Rep himself even ceasing his remonstrations for a moment, both Rick and John are clearly heard.
Jack walks implacably towards the gibbet, club in one hand as he swills from a flask held in the other.
Anyone getting in his way is going to get a tap that is probably going to be lethal.
Jack's strength is the strength of 84 men because his heart is pure.
The crowd is shunted back and forth in their fear, trying to make way for the the lawman and his free-firing pistol at the same time as moving away from the shoulder-barging thug and his forceful voice... and, of course, veritably shoveled to the side by Jack's approach to the gibbet, one that goes in roughly a straight line no matter who is standing in his way. People move quicker for him than for anyone else, conscious perhaps of the fact that he could most probably crush their heads like eggshells if he so chose.
As John and Rick argue back and forth and Roger vaults onto the stage of the gibbet there is movement off to the right, from the roof of one of the nearby warehouses. It draws the eye of some of the frightened crowd, already on edge after the gunshot, the shouting and the advance of the mountainous orc... but what they see there leaves them more than disquieted.
It leaves them terrified.
Growing slowly from the roof of the warehouse, glinting in the sun, is a spire - like the insides of a belltower inverted, a confusion of bronze and wood and melting snow. An extrusion reaching up from the depths and piercing the frail fabric of your reality... a part, recognisable to the majority of you without even a second to think, of the Schultenbrak city.
'You ask us why we kill? For justice, and to set right what has been made wrong.'
The voice issues from behind the gibbet, strong and commanding, and a figure climbs up to stand opposite Roger, the forms of the restrained orcs in between the two of them.
It's a woman, and you realise as she steps into the light that you have seen her face before - on the back of the local currency given to you by the Hawcroft Rep, on bill-posts in the windows of official-looking buildings.
You, Roger, are looking directly at Ollis Hern, the elected head of the Dockside Parliament.
'Our port is dying, our city is in pain, and my people are scared. Tell me, men,' 'what takes from me the right to redress the balance here?'
She hand the nuts she was eating to the woman she was talking to,
"Sorry would stay and talk but I've got to go save the world"
With a smile to her Sallrana jumps onto the stage, her clothing changes to that of an RIC officer black, silver and skills, she bows to Ollis Hern, in her best lady like and noble voice she says, at a level all can hear.
"A pleasure to meet you, char person Hern, and I must say, about time, this can all be fixed by the simple act of some brave fighters heading into that gate way of doom there and closeing it."
She points at the extrapler tower,
"Si if you would be so kind as to give us our four brave hearts here back, some warm clothing and aims for them, we will do just that, if not it looks very much like the end of you city. And that we are just not going to allow no are we."
Her clothing truns to white winter gear , she pulls out her revolver and checks it, the puts it back in her holster.
looking over the others and not paying any heed to the masses around them she says.
"Come on you lot, we don't have all day, we have a monster to stop"
To the agent and Mage
"You pear as well, this mess is your making, time to go fix it"
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John mounts the stage and looks at the woman.
Balance I have no problems with, as justice is symbolized by scales, but punishing those who had no guilt to assuage your fear...That is the most blatant injustice. We are going to save your city now. And we will take our companions with us. John looks at the politician closely.
When I return we will talk about redress for your injustice. Now. Get. Out. Of. Our. Way.
John turns to the hulking orc, Jack, free them. If anyone tries to stop you...show them how unhappy you are.
Then he bows to Shallrana, After you, Ma'am
Jack speaks, pointing at the distant
He then picks up the Gibbet, complete with people, and starts to walk back.
Turning his back on the woman, Roger moves towards Tarun and begins unbinding him.
Miria watches as the whole scenario goes down, staying still as the crowd scurried like ants, reappearing out of nowhere. She starts when she sees the Schultenbrak city but runs to try to keep up with Sallrana, before she does something lacking common sense. Because sometimes, Miria just doesn't understand Sallrana.
She smiles at John,
"Well done John, how about you set the lads the task of finding a ships hand cannon with powder and grape shot. I think we may need some thing to tackle the tentacle things"
The seeing Miria come up.
"Good Miria, change of plan, it seems the gate has come to us so where heading in to sort this mess out. You can back out now if you like and no one will blame you. If you coming get some warm clothing and some thing to hurt big things with"
She pulls out her blade and belts it onto herself.
"Ropes as well. where headed up that tower"
Now she belts on some throwing spikes.
Having cut the two orcs free, Roger begins moving to the Hawcroft people next.
, nobody seems to mind that you're currently untying their captives, and ... your words are forgotten in an instant by the crowd, staring open mouthed at the huge orc holding the gibbet aloft . But it's not his strength that has silenced the crowd, as impressive as it may be - it is his words.
Schultenbrak
The whisper spreads through the crowd like a virus, passing from mouth to mouth as people turn, catching the eyes of their neighbours as they make sure of what they have just heard.
ollis hern staggers backwards slightly as the planks of the dock that the gibbet is bolted to bend and give way, but recovers her composure admirably. Walking straight past Sallrana and john, even past Roger as he undoes her work, she comes to a stop in front of you, , close enough to touch.
'Tell me, half-giant,' she says quietly, 'what do you know of this Schultenbrak?'
All eyes are on the two of you.
Jack waves at the orcs
Having cut the last of the hemmed up people on the stage free, Roger will hop off and bellow to the assembled crowd "You should probably go home." He waits for a moment, then as people haven't begun moving, he roars "NOW!"
Shallrana look at John then moves to the mage and agent.
::"It seems they know a lot more than us about this Schultenbrak than we do, Jack better be careful here, we may be walking into a whole new pile of trouble."
::[i]"careful now Jack, they seem to know more about this Schultenbrak than we do, as how they know of it"::
::"If you have healing get the agent fixed up, we need him well, also you have teleport skills"::
::"we my be in trouble here, they know of this Schultenbrak, if we have done bad in their eyes we may have to run, if you can Psi-port best tell me now"::
Spurred on by Roger's shout the crowd scatters, ask thoughts of execution gone, but Hern remains. The two orcs embrace roughly as they are freed, brotherhood in the face of freedom, and the mage sinks to his knees, his face buried in his hands. Only the raw skinned Hawcroft representative remains unmoved by his freedom, standing straight and bleeding freely in the morning air.
Hern is quiet when she speaks again, but with the only other remaining sounds in the area being the sound of the waves and a distant crackle from the gateway, her voice is clear.
[][]
'The schultenbrak... Is dead, giant-kin. Dead and buried, at great cost to us. For that, that gateway, to be a product of it... No. You are mistaken, or mad.'
...and bleeding freely in the morning air...
Rick is paying attention only, his efforts no longer necessary with the following events. "Or correct. The simplest answer is usually the right one."
'The schultenbrak... Is dead, giant-kin. Dead and buried, at great cost to us. For that, that gateway, to be a product of it... No. You are mistaken, or mad.'
Sallrana calmly walks over to Hern and slaps her one hard cross the face, then grps her shoulders, looking into the woman's disbelieving face she says, so only the two of them can hear.
"That's for ignoring me and to make you get a grip of your self Hern, now stop blabbing and start thinking. Look at it."
With that last statement she thrusts her mind into Hern showing her images of the schultenbrak they encountered, the spaces the things inside.
'We are not Mad Hern, Jack has said it, the schultenbrak, very much real and alive, trapped here like a wale on a beach, it can harm this city still we intend to stop it once and for all. you understand, we need you help if we are to do this. So tell us what you know about the schultenbrak and give any thing can use to fight it"
she lets go and steps back, pulling her mind back as she dos.
Jack points out calmly, embracing his orcish companions.
He then turns to Hern with a strange intensity
Jack's anger seems to have faded, and he casually tosses the now empty gibbet far away.
Miria moves closer as the discussion continues, and starts fussing somewhat over the Hawcroft representatives in their state as she listens.
Roger looks to the leader of the dock district and says "You were saying?"
'She was saying, dear boy, that the Schultenbrack is dead. And she's entirely right, despite your rather... vocal assertions to the contrary. Good morning, Hern.'
The words issue forth from a man, stepping onto the docks in the wake of the retreating crowd. He holds himself upright, with a noble's bearing, and there are two large hounds at his heels, each of them sniffing the air, hackles raised.
Hern, about to respond (most probably in kind) to the slap delivered by Sallrana turns at the sound of his voice, a look of palpable relief replacing the confusion and shock on her face. The gibbet splashes into the water behind you as Jack casually tosses it aside, drawing a raised a eyebrow from the newcomer, but nothing more.
, the willowy orcs at your side seem fine - a little the worse for wear after the events of their morning, but most definitely in better shape than either the businessman or mage. Tarun's arm seems to be healing well, you notice - no matter how quickly the townspeople turned on them, the medics aboard the ship have obviously been doing an excellent job.
Looks at the new comer, notes the shock on Hern face come back.
::"ever get the impression you have been talking to someone's puppet, and look that someone has just shown up."::
Sallrans says in a noble voice and good manners as if at a dinner party.
"Well meet my Lord, it is a pleasure to meet you, let me introduce myself, I am the Lady Sallrna Qillon Silvermoon of the house Silvermoon, widow to Lord Silvermoon of Westwood. These are my companions, Masters Jack, Judge John, the Outlaw Roger, Miria the scout, Rickonni the Bard and some small Orcs, long story. So that all being said, how can we help you today?"
She stands nobly Revolver in hand, blade by her side, well dress in fine clothing and head high.
"Hardly an outlaw. I'm a debt collector. Not wanted anywhere."
Miria stops her fussing over the two Hawcroft employees for a moment to take in the newcomer and his dogs. Even though the dogs are walking up to them hackles raised, they are beautiful creatures and she looks at them a little longingly. She turns her main focus back to the businessman and the mage, keeping an eye on the newcomer and his beautiful hounds.
'The name's Shawe, lad, Tarkin Shawe. I'm well known in these parts and I, in turn, know these parts quite well. And I can assure you, whatever that is,' the man points toward the tower still slowly unfolding from the roof of the nearby warehouse, 'It is not our old friend the Schultenbrack. And believe me, I am exceedingly sure of this... seeing as it was at my hand that the schultenbrack met its end, more than twenty years ago.'
He stands there with his arms crossed, a thoughtful look on his face and a sense of easy arrogance emanating from him.
'And you can help me, first of all, by telling me how you came to be here. You stink of the arcane, if you don't mind me saying. In fact you, my lady, more potently than most. And,' he sniffs the air theatrically, 'Unless I've missed my guess, at least one of you has paid a visit to Old Arms recently. Your names are all well and good, but... this is my city, and I like to know what's going on.'
Rick ignores the search for arcane and whatever he means by Old Arms.
"It's rather simple, or so I see it. You're probably naming different beings with the same substantive. They know the Schultenbrack as a monster whose belly's gonna envelop the world, and the interior of that gate" - he points to the thing in the distance - "certainly looks to be how they described, as a city made of wood, darkness, cold and... something else. What do you name as Schultenbrack sir Shawe?"
Rick, at your words a shadow of doubt passes across the youthful features of the man standing in front of you. He loses a little of his swagger as he replies.
'A belly that... yes, yes. That would most certainly be the schultenbrack. A creature most incredibly adapted to a trans-planar environment, the stomach of the beast a doppler-plane that takes anything ingested and splits it, copies and recopies it to create a hundred instances of prey that can be hunted for sport and nourishment both. But lad, the schultenbrack is dead. I have the creature's heart, the great bell of a heart, in the study of my very own tower. And it never had a city inside itself, merely a... oh.'
He stops suddenly, a look of sad certainty on his features. The hounds at his heels whine and pad backward slightly, and Hern looks towards the floor as if in prayer.
'A city, you say...?' he asks softly.
Jack scratches at his chin thoughtfully.
"If it was not Schultenbrak, would you have come so fast?"
"Your Schultenbrak sounds like our Schultenbrak. Might be more than one. We might need to cut out the heart of this one. Might help to hear how you killed the last one."
His eyes narrow
"There is a thing you have thought. A dark thing. What is it?"