The sergeant retreats to the doorway, drawing his sword along the way.
William dives behind the tables and next to Digger, drawing his Webley Mk. IV, memento of the Boer War. The revolver barks loudly in the cramped room, finding an easy target in the growing woman.
The shot tears through some sort of translucent force that surrounds the captain, light flashing at the impact. The bullet punches a hole in her torso and she clutches the wound in pain.
Naajy ducks behind the table, grabbing up his gun and firing it
"At some point I'm going to get the hang of this :-("
He calls Haamid to his side, ordering Haamid to defend him should somebody approach
Fang begins pummeling the woman, hoping to put her down quickly.
"Gah! OK, fighting!" Digger tries to take a shot at the mean lady.
Naajy's shot goes wide, sinking into the ice of the wall. Fang steps up to her and connects with a strong blow to her knee, attempting to hamstring her, but he underestimates her enhanced toughness. Digger raises his rifle to fire, grazing the giant woman. But despite this modern onslaught, she stands strong, at least for the moment.
Captain Orlov steps into Fang's attack, swinging her massive sword, now nearly nine feet long.
Fang ducks under the blow easily, making the trained warrior look incompetent.
The sergeant, stunned by the claps of your firearms, moves to flank Fang, the only one making an attack that he really understands.
But even so, Fang is too capable. Despite being surrounded by enemies, he deftly dodges the sergeant's attack.
Round 2 for our heroes
Fang continues to assault the impossibly large woman.
Memories of the battlefield return uncomfortably to William, and shooting a woman makes him uncomfortable, throwing off his aim for the second shot. "I've always hated Wagner! Geh zur Hölle, Walküre!"
German: Go to hell, Valkyrie!
Fang sweeps the valkyrie's leg out from under her and she lands heavily on the icy floor, her skull cracking.
Naajy calls out to the sergeant :
"We don't have to kill you too. Surrender to us!"
He will ready to shoot the sergeant if he does anything except surrender
The sergeant is as loyal as one who has been a lifelong adherent of a national cult. He will certainly attempt to strike Fang down for attacking his commander, so Naajy will have to attack him.
Digger shoots incompetently at the sergeant.
Naajy shoots the sergeant as Digger misses completely.
We came here to explore and learn, and we find ourselves attacked by these bloody savages! Ah, how history repeats!
For the third time in a few seconds, the revolver barks angrily, this time finding purchase in the sergeant.
The sergeant retreats at this sudden apparently magical assault.
"Oy, I did not realize you were wizards. This will call for a different strategy."
The sergeant steps around Fang, trying to put some cover between himself and the near-magical force of your firearms. He raises his shield to defend himself, but Dr. Johnson's bullet rips through the shield into the sergeant's shoulder.
"Surrender, damn it. We're NOT murderers"
Ready action to shoot if the sergeant doesn't surrender
"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon ..."
Digger levels his rifle at the sergeant, whose wooden defense is no match for the power of a 20th Century rifle. The bullet rips through the sergeant's shield and punches a hole in his armor. The man's face takes on an air of surprise as a hole appears in his chest and he sinks to the floor, his hot blood steaming as it comes into contact with the frozen floor.
William heads over the desk and to the captain, using her furs and clothes to bandage the wounds, then does the same to the sergeant. " We should get some answers out of these folks. I must say that I find myself deeply unimpressed, if this is the magic these folks wield."
After he's done with triage, he reloads the revolver, grimacing at the dwindling bullet count. "Although technology won't help us forever. At this rate, I'll be out of bullets in ten days. Naajy, you-" the doctor winces slightly "-know more than me about magic. Anything we can use around here?"
Fang starts trying to stabilize anyone he can, starting with the large sized captain.
"I really don't know. But I'll look around and see if something rings a bell"
William staunches the flow of blood of the Captain. She will almost certainly die of infection without treatment. Her furs are filthy and undoubtedly carry disease, but she will live for the moment.
Naajy trails his fingers across the items the Captain is carrying. His fingers tingle at the touch of three vials in loops on her belt. You have a sense that two of them are full of vitality, and one is fire distilled.
YEs, if allowed, I'd use my Esper talents on those items. Take the old rolls or do you want me to roll new ones?
"Jesus Mary! We're alive!"
Naajy's eyes grow distant as he sees in his mind's eye a beautiful woman wrapped in furs and wool. Her eyes are icy blue, her hair and skin so pale that she seems almost translucent. She stands over an iron cauldron, a fire blazing beneath it. She is stirring a liquid in the cauldron with a fat wooden paddle, her lips moving in murmurous noises.
"How positively medieval. Please remind me to find some willow bark, honey and ginger, once my supplies run out."
William wipes his hands clean of blood and slaps the captain across the face, trying to wake her up. "Oi! Where I come from, it's considered impolite to assault your guests! How about you answer our questions, help us out of here, and I'll properly heal you so that you don't die of septicemia in five days?"
"These objects were created by a beautiful woman who looks very, very powerful. And cold, in the literal as opposed to metaphorical sense. One of the Winter Witches, I'm sure"
The giant woman's eyes flutter and then open as she regains consciousness. "Not guests, you are...Bear the mark of the Black Rider. You...you must die. It is the will of the Queen...Kill the Riders, stop...the forces of Baba."
"We do not understand. We're strangers. What does bearing the mark of the Black Rider MEAN??? We may not be your enemies"
"The Queen has declared the Riders anathema. They must be hunted and destroyed. Only the Black Rider remains, and you bear his mark. We have been charged to destroy any who carry it."
"Might have been that fellow who sprayed us with his lifeblood yesterday. I think we just got forcibly drafted in this Baba's forces. I doubt that this woman will be any use to us, she seems fiercely loyal. Shall we take our leave?"
"How do you know that we bear this mark?"
"The blood of dragons runs in my veins. I can see the magic coursing through you, the power of the Black Rider sits on you like a cloak."
"I don't know anything about magic, but dragons are just a myth."
"I'm suspending disbelief until we find some sort of a... I don't know. College? School? Library? Monastery with illuminated codices? Anywhere that has consistent information."
William sighs and passes his fingers through his hair, which are growing wilder than he'd like.
<"I think if there had been more troops at this floor, they'd have come by now."> he adds, going to check the northernmost door.
"Well, if we've been forcibly drafted into this war, I guess we need to try and win it. I suggest that we take over this entire fort and use whatever we gather to arm the local villagers."
William moves to the door to the north. After so much cold, the door feels pleasantly warm. Opening the door, he finds several cabinets lining the narrow walls of this oddly angular room. A chopping block, water barrel, and cauldron stand near the room’s only door. The tantalizing smells of fresh baked bread and meaty stew fill the air.
The only inhabitant of the room is a small man, only about 3 feet. He has massive ears that stick out from his small head. He wears filthy felt clothing. The little man's features are extremely unsettling. William has a brief impulse to flee, but he manages to steel himself.
What in the name of sanity...
William draws his rapier, hoping that the blade will be better known to the creature than a revolver. "Sir, there is no need for violence here. Who are you? Do you serve the Witches?"
"We are here to free all slaves of the Witches. And allow others who so choose to flee. Please don't make us kill you"
"Mig is the cook for all of the Pale Tower. Army march on stomach. No stomach, no army. Stop interrupt Mig cooking." The small man's arms flail about wildly, finally coming to rest on a sizable meat cleaver, which he heaves toward the ddor.
"Mig is the cook for all of the Pale Tower. Army march on stomach. No stomach, no army. Stop interrupt Mig cooking." The small man's arms flail about wildly, finally coming to rest on a sizable meat cleaver, which he heaves toward the doctor, striking him with minimal effect..
"Well, if he is right, if we kill him the army disappears :-). And I don;t like people trying to kill us. So ..."
He shoots his rifle
"Why did I even try?" grumbles William as the cleaver scratches his side. He lunges with the rapier, unwilling to waste bullets on the ugly... thing.
I hope I find a wardrobe or something.
Struck by your assault, the small man's twisted face contorts in rage. His eyes protrude from his skull and he begins to grow. His muscles twist and new ropes of tissue swell from nowhere. His bulk upends a table full of root vegetables. His fists swell from the size of a potato to the size of a ripe melon, and the knuckles grow bony protuberances.
"What the heck is that? Lets put it down quickly!!!"