Chana stiffens. She's seen the Prince's mannerism on the streets. It was the way a gang's boss would treat fresh meat before screwing them over. Usually by getting them horribly killed. She shakes her head.
'Not time ta get distrac'ed.'
Pushing through the crowd, she approaches the nearest of the so called "lion blades". Putting on her best attempt at pretending, she whispers "You wouldn't be able to point me towards the ladies room, would you?"
Photinè gives a cursory glance to the figures that Olivia pointed out, but doesn't think much of it, assuming it to be just some extra security precaution. She continues watching the speech, albeit with a growing distaste for the Grand Prince's underhanded words.
"They're probably just worried he'll have a pie thrown at him. I hear he's rather paranoid about that sort of thing," she whispers, rather treasonously, to the younger woman.
Amandine can hear tension in Olivia's voice as she whispers about the Lion Blades. She has heard of them, vague stories and mentions, but that is the point of a secretive organization after all.
She tries to reason things through.
It is possible they are always present at events like this. But there seem to be many of them here together, and that doesn't fit I've heard. Also predictable appearances don't seem in line with their purpose. In any case, if this is the reason, nothing is amiss and there's no reason to think about it.
They may be here because they know of a plot to assassinate the Grand Prince. Now the vote is concluded perhaps Princess Eutropia does not want to wait to take the throne. But no, it's too transparent. She also doesn't yet know what kind of footing she now has. She would need time to be sure. Also, she would be the obvious suspect even if she were not responsible. Failure would be catastrophic for her."
"Maybe an attempt on the Princess's life? It would make more sense. A plan to undo the vote's outcome if it passed. But again, why here and not an easier time and place? Maybe this IS the easier time and place. I don't know enough... Maybe another reason entirely. Just to keep order if the vote became too contentious? Regular security could surely handle that..."
She can't get anywhere trying to think what it might mean, and as much as Olivia's tone of voice, this makes her tense as well.
Greenly leans forward, excited. She had always wanted to see this bit, to see someone rise into the gentry. How delightful.
You've also heard your father and his allies speak of the Lion Blades alternately with reverence and disdain.
You're keenly aware that this man will not buckle or bend. His voice and posture remind you, frightfully, of a certain breed of folk you encountered on the streets. You recognize the seeming of a man who is very familiar with taking lives.
You also note that the obvious, almost uniform garb of these "Lion Blades" is less like what you'd expect of a spy and more akin to a bouncer or enforcer.
Agents of the Lion Blades are thought to recruit talented individuals from the famous bardic colleges of Oppara - the Kitharodian Academy in particular. These recruits are then trained at the fabled Shadow Schools, supposedly located in hidden places across the city.
.....
"But unlike you, Lord Kalbio," the Grand Prince continues, "These Taldans - my children, truly - are not grateful."
As Stavian continues to speak, the lines upon his face and brow becoming sharp as daggers, Kalbio grows increasingly, understandably bewildered.
"They scheme and plot, dream of hanging their dutiful father and placing a woman - a woman, sir! - on the Lion Throne! And they have seen fit this very day to induct you into their conspiratorial ranks. And that is why here, now, you, Lord Kalbio, will be the first among them to die."
And with that, the Emperor of Taldor plunges a jeweled dagger between the ribs of the noble weaver in his clutches.
As Photinè sees the jeweled dagger flash in the Grand Prince's hand, she reaches a hand towards the stage in a futile gesture, and a cry of horror escapes her throat. She takes a few steps forward on unsteady feet, bewildered, unsure of what to do.
Tanglefoot gives a suprised, wordless shout. He looks around at his companions, his eyes wide in disbelief.
"All things considered... what was the point of that?" he says after a moment, loudly, confused.
"And don't say the one on the dagger."
Amandine is too shocked by the stabbing to say anything. But as she stands there staring one of the Grand Prince's phases leaps to the fore of her mind: "first among them to die".
The the black-garbed men now make horrible sense to her. Amandine begins to grab her comrades with a desperate fierceness, telling them in a hoarse barely whisper "he means to kill everyone here! He's insane! We have to get out now!"
In her shock, Greenly nearly falls off the balcony. Her eyes widen and she searches for Senator Trant, trying to keep an eye on him.
"Malphene!" she hisses, fidgeting with the peace-binding ribbon on her sheath, desperately trying to pull it loose in case she is needed to protect her ward. "I have no idea what's about to happen, miss, but it can't be anything good. Stay close."
Chana looks over her shoulder and catches a glimpse of Kalbio falling as the Prince issues his proclamation. "Well, s!$!." Quickly coming to the same conclusion as Amandine, her eyes flit back to watching the black garbed man that stopped her from leaving. Taking a couple of steps back, she starts sizing him up, trying to gauge if she can overwhelm him and get out.
She raises her parasol into the air, drawing the attention of her allies. If they were going to get out of here, it was going to have to be together.
Amandine's voice is the first thing to reach Photinè in her confusion, and she looks at the woman in disbelief, shaking her head. "Everyone? No, no, he can't."
Even so, she begins to back towards the wall defensively, and scans the crowd for more of the black-garbed figures.
Kalbio's blood showers the front row of the stunned crowd. The talented weaver, exalted for scant minutes, mouths a few syllables - "Ma...Ma...Pa..." - before collapsing upon the stage in a crumpled heap.
A red-stained Princess Eutropia stands beside Lady Morilla and the other nobility, looking up at her father in horrified disbelief.
The black-glad figures cast aside their cloaks, revealing armor and blades. The unidentified soldiers who stand by the exits make wide arcing slashes with their swords, alternately cutting down those who would escape while keeping the rest of the crowd at bay. The others begin advancing, cutting through the assembled nobles and guests with broad swings. Among the erupting carnage, it is hard to take an accurate count, but there are perhaps as many as fifty of these killers on the senate floor!
After a fleeting moment of confusion, the Ulfen Guard close ranks around their emperor to protect him, bringing steel against any who approach - whether black-clad warrior or panicked senator. Between the mysterious attackers and the Grand Prince's own bodyguards, the senate floor quickly becomes a killing field. Atop the podium, Stavian III looks around in deranged wonder at the butchery he has ordered.
As the chaos escalates, other members of the crowd pull hidden weapons from their clothing and engage these killers, fighting for their own lives and those of their kin. Among them, you recognize the guard who "inspected" you at the very beginning of the gala and hastened your progress through the line. This Vudrani woman leaps into combat against these assassins, shouting "Lion Blades! To your duties! Defend the senate! Defend Taldor!" even as blood begins to stain her headscarf.
Princess Eutropia and Lady Morilla draw their elegant swords and stand back to back, protecting each other against the approaching killers. You even spot Martella drawing a hidden weapon to drive back these assassins.
Undoing the rest of the ribbon, Greenly brings her weapon to bear on the nearest assassin. "Get behind me, Malphene, I'll, like, protect ya."
|
Olivia's mouth drops open when Kalbio is suddenly murdered. She hadn't been paying much attention to the speech until the Prince dropped the charade. As the Lion Blades begin the bloodbath, Olivia snaps. "Stand together everyone! We need to rescue Chana, then protect Lady Lotheed and the Princess. TO ARMS!!"
With newfound strength, Olivia rips off the peacebond of her sword and draws it.
Chana turns to find Olivia in the crowd. She shouts "Over here Olivia! Grab the others too!" She faces the 'assassin' but backs away a bit more, then starts clicking her tongue in a staccato rhythm.
She lowers the parasol to point it at the assassin.
Photinè cries out at the scene unfolding before her, and thrusts her hand toward the nearest assassin, sending a wave of mind-affecting magic rushing over them.
Amandine breaks the peace ribbon on her rapier and draws it, though she's unsure what she remembers of it's use.
She had a plan from earlier which she puts into action now. At their first meeting at the cafe, Amandine had supposed Olivia the one of them most likely to walk away in one piece if there was violence. She sticks to her like glue.
Amandine's first reaction isn't to fight through the crowd to go to the Princess's and Lotheed's defense, but she overrides her own impulse to follow Olivia closely.
Anyway, she reasons, we are more likely to force our way through a door as a group. The killers are dispersed and numbers will be our advantage.
Agent near Amandine (26)
Agent near Tanglefoot (23)
Photinè (21)
Agent near Chana (19)
Tanglefoot (16)
Greenly (13)
Agent near Greenly (12)
Agent near Photinè (11)
Chana (11)
Agent near Olivia (9)
Amandine (7)
Olivia (4)
Amandine and Tanglefoot watch as the assassins nearest to them plunge their swords into Count Vyband and Viscount Vercander.
Photinè hazards a nervous smile as another of the assassins seems to slow, growing sluggish under her magic, but her optimism fades as the killer ultimately shakes off the spell. With his wits retained, he cuts down a conservatively dressed noblewoman with a hacking strike of his sword.
Shortly before "Chana" imbues her parasol with magic, she sees some unknown lordling fall to another killer's blade.
Greenly lands a telling blow upon an assassin just as he was about to strike at Dame Trant. The distraction provides a split second for Trant to seize a nearby chair and use it to deflect the incoming sword stroke.
Amandine cuts the peacebonding on her rapier as Olivia simply snaps the cord on her own blade. They ready their swords as the killers nearest to them make short work of their latest victims and turn their heads in the two women's direction.
Tanglefoot finds his senses, and realizes the best thing he can probably do here is try to inspire his comrades to courageous action. His normally joking tone shifts to a new rhetorical mood, and his deep baritone voice booms out.
"Heed my words, bold comrades in arms, we shall not die this day. Treachery and treason seep from the highest ranks, and the king trying to kill his country, but we shall not falter. Fight now for primogeniture, democracy, and common sense!"
However, you never get to learn the extent of your swordplay, for you are overcome by a blinding flash of light just as the enemy blade descends. When it fades, only blackness and the smell of cold earth remain.
He reels back and prepares to aim a cleaving stroke towards your own portly belly, but you never see the swing - and thankfully, never feel it either!
A blinding flash of light washes over you, and when it fades, only blackness and the smell of cold earth remain.
A blinding flash of light washes over you, and when it fades, only blackness and the smell of cold earth remain.
Your attention is torn in twain between what happened to Amandine and the second assassin now approaching you.
...
Tanglefoot's boisterous voice begins to reverberate across the senate halls, calling the defenders of the senate to glory. However, his surprisingly stirring oratory is cut short - his words seeming to end mid-sentence.
Photinè can dimly sense faint "blips" of magic around the senate hall, seemingly from the direction of her comrades.
With a mighty yell, Greenly thrusts forward with her blade, determined to fight to the last, not only for her country, but also for her job. No, wait, the other way around. Yeah, emphasis on Taldor, cause like, the Senate is freaking under attack.
'Cold. Earth. Buried!?'
Alarmed, Chana thrashes out with all her limbs, trying to fight against whatever strange force has overtaken her. After all, staying still when something you don't understand happens is a quick way to die.
Photinè screams as the noblewoman is sliced open in front of her, but stands her ground as her panic starts to focus into anger. She turns her shrill cry on the killer, shouting at him across the senate floor. "Bastard! You'll regret this! I'll turn you all to ash!"
You only notice the second assassin behind you raise his blade when it is too late. However, you never feel the rush of air and sting of steel. Instead, your vision is washed out in a sea of white as a blinding light overtakes you. That same magic radiance you felt moments ago comes again, much stronger as it courses across your body like adrenaline through your veins.
When the light clears, there is only inky darkness and the smell of stale, earthy air. However, you are not alone. Something else is moving around in this darkness.
Just as the heavy blade begins to fall, you feel a rush of air and a surging tingle race across your skin. Your eyes are blinded by a sudden brilliance.
When the light clears, there is only inky darkness and the smell of stale, earthy air. However, you are not alone. Something else is moving around in this darkness.
However, as you look towards her, you find neither anger nor glee. Instead, she turns to grip the railing and looks down to the senate floor in abject horror.
"Father!" she shouts, her voice cracking.
Following her eyes, you see the man who hired you - Senator Andonus Trant - fall upon the floor in a bloody heap, killed by another of the four dozen or so assassins cutting swathes through the senate.
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Her attacker felled, Greenly grasps Malphene's hand and pulls her away from the scene. "Come on, miss, we can't stop now, not even for grieving. I promised him I would, like, protect you, you standing there in abject horror won't do his memories any favors. Let's, like, break out and stuff. Be a woman he would have no choice but to be proud of."
Her ward behind her, she makes a break for the doors, stopping to engage yet another assassin, and perhaps distract him from Dame Trant.
"Go, miss!" And as she raises her sword, her body becomes wreathed in spiritual flame. She brings her weapon down upon the next man, hard and fast.
In a single moment of clarity, Greenly recognizes the spiritual fire as wisps, memories and voices of her Ulfen ancestors. They have accepted her as one of them.
She pushes forward, and the wisps join in, helping beat back the assassin.
She offers a silent prayer of hope and safety for Malphene. That girl had better get out of here alright, or Mr. Senator would be furious at Greenly for failing to protect his daughter, dead or not.
Is this the afterlife? Amandine wonders. It doesn't match anything I've ever read about it...
Amandine has to admit it is not a subject she had ever delved into, but even so this doesn't seem right, the smell of earth especially. This leads her to a panicky thought, have I been mistaken for dead and buried?
Amandine slowly splays her arms and legs to feel for evidence of tight confinement. She remains appreciative of the danger she had been in just moments before, and moves as silently as possible. Have I been blinded? Doubtful, I'm in no pain anywhere and the smell has changed...
You do not get far before your fingers find an obstacle - a living one that recoils at your touch!
.....
Back in the senate, Greenly continues to mount an inspired defense of her client. She draws blood yet again, inflicting a decent wound upon the next assassin to approach. Despite the successful strike, the bodyguard's resolve wavers as she watches the foe shrug off the assault by the spiritual wisps.
Just as the blade rushes towards you, you find yourself whisked away in a blinding blur of light, depositing you somewhere dark as pitch, and the air thick with dust.
Olivia's voice pierces the darkness, revealing that you all ended up in the same place - wherever that may be.
Greenly sinks. The comfort and acceptance of the wisps leaves her, and her muscles feel unusually heavy. What had happened? Was she dead? If she was dead, though, wouldn't she be naked or something?
She pats her body: she still has all her gear but something feels different. She couldn't have died, anyhow, she would have taken that blow easily, shifted her weight for it to collide against her armor. Nothing more than some broken bones and a huge bruise.
But Malphene! Poor Malphene. Maybe she got out, or maybe she would
She unties the rope she uses as a belt, which also serves to hold a flat pack of wood to her back. Holding up her pants, she removes the two pounds of wood and unfolds it into a chair. "Nothing to do about it, I suppose," she mumbles, sitting down and popping a wad of red leaves into her mouth.
At the very least she could chew some dip and wait out this pain and muscle fatigue.
Once it becomes clear that its just a dark, damp place, Chana halts her thrashing and composes herself. With the other people hired by Martella here, and with them still somewhat strangers, she figured she'd have to keep up the act. At least for now. "I'm here Olivia. Safe and sound. All of us seem to be here and in one piece. And we've picked up that, uh, bodyguard of Miss Trant's."
She pauses, rewording what she's going to say in her mind "That wasn't a fever dream, was it? People were getting killed back in the Senate. -" A wave of mixed emotion washes over her. Plenty of them probably deserved it, but with Stavian ordering it chances were good it was the Princess' supporters that'd do more dying. The better sort of noble, she thought. "-fusking 'ell, the Princess!"
"Any of ya see if the Princess was caught in one 'a these light flashes?" The words tumble out of her, accent wobbling at the edge of something very different from her speech up until now.
When the body she touches grabs her Amandine almost shrieks, but mindful of noise she squeaks instead. Then she recognizes the voice, which calms her though she still trembles due to the sword at her neck.
Trying to keep her voice down she croaks out "Olivia! It's Amandine! It's me! Move your weapon!"
Faded wallpaper lines the walls of this thirty-five-foot-by-thirty-five-foot room, peeling up at the seams. Six beds line the western wall, each pristinely made but caked in a thick layer of dust. Eight closed wooden lockers line the northeastern corner of the room. Two doors exit the room: one to the north and one to the east.
As you look around, you initially notice Olivia, Tanglefoot, and Amandine also occupying this dark chamber. In short order, though, Photinè and Malphene's bodyguard also appear around you.
Greenly lounges back in her folding chair, unbothered by the commotion. She doesn't even notice it, really, busy as she is, trying something her mother had insisted she practice and often: the sort of trick popular in magical salons to make people think you were wise or whatever. It was called emptying your thoughts and Greenly was exceptionally good at it.
Some folks would compliment her apparent skill at trance and meditation, saying she went so deep so easily, it was like she hadn't any thoughts at all. She would just sit there, head empty, centering herself and smacking her teeth on that disgusting red leaf she was so fond of.
It certainly made time go by much faster, that was for sure, and even though she never actually paid attention to her own thoughts during it (if she had any), meditating like this really helped her organize her thoughts and cope.
There were only a few problems with this.
First, she spat. Everywhere. And that red leaf she chewed stained like wine, not to mention how unsanitary it was. Most people who chewed leaves at least had the presence of mind not to spit on someone's furniture, but it was all Greenly could do not to get it on herself. She was lucky she didn't drool. Sometimes after a successful trance, she would be the only clean thing in about a three foot radius.
Second, waking up from a nap with thoughts processed and solutions presented sounds useful, but it requires a degree more capability coming up with those process and solutions than Greenly possessed in the first place. But again, lucky for Greenly, most of her problems were pretty simple, and the solution usually involved doing what she was avoiding or beating something with a stick.
And lastly, not much could stir her when she was like this. Calling her empty headed normally would be completely inaccurate: problem was she had too much up there! Little details, always flitting about and always irrelevant. Nothing very interesting, and lots of it. Yet when she emptied her mind, it truly became empty. All the little nothing very interestings gave way for one great big Nothing.
It was very hard to stir her from such a state. She would just keep chewing and spitting and staring off into nowhere until she was done or something interesting started happening.
Lucky for Greenly, something interesting is already about to happen.
Unconsciously, she spits on the toe of Photiné's fancy shoe.
Reeling from the shock of her sudden departure, and filled with revulsion and grief over what she's just witnessed, Photinè is grateful for the voices of her companions in the blackness. They offer as reassuring a presence as she could hope for right now.
”Gods. Gods." Her voice cracks, and even in the dark, it's obvious that she's starting to cry. "I’ve never seen anyone killed before.”
She weeps silently for a moment, feeling as though despair will consume her entirely.
Then, something wet and warm and pungent collides with her shoe. Sad, angry, and now disgusted, she shakes it off with a sniffle and a sob, hitches up her skirts, and stomps off in a random direction.
"Light," is her only explanation, and internally, she curses herself for not having prepared a spell for this very eventuality.
Desperate to fix something she has control over, she gropes blindly in the darkness. Her breath comes in spasmodic gasps, and she continues to cry openly while she searches for something, anything, to make things a little easier.
After Olivia releases her, Amandine hears her clattering about, or perhaps over. "Are you alright Olivia? Hold on, I'm going to try to get us some light."
She opens her satchel-like purse and rummages around in it for her journal. When Amandine finds it, she rips several pages from the back and crumples them into loose balls.
She digs about for her flint and steel, and lights them on fire.
After a few attempts at lighting the paper with no good results, Amandine takes off her stupid itchy wig and throws it on top to light instead.
The journal pages stubbornly refuse to light. However, once the wig is tossed upon the heap, it quickly catches fire. Perhaps it is the powder upon the wig or the dyes used to color it, but the abandoned accessory burns quickly and brightly, casting a weak light across the room.
Photinè discovers a number of unlit, yellow candles sitting atop a table set against the wall. She brings them over to Amandine to light them, and they are soon arrayed around the room, providing more reliable lighting.
Faded wallpaper lines the walls of this thirty-five-foot-by-thirty-five-foot room, peeling up at the seams. Six beds line the western wall, each pristinely made but caked in a thick layer of dust. Eight closed wooden lockers line the northeastern corner of the room.
Two doors exit the room: one to the north and one to the east. A third door leads into a separate bathroom ensconced within the southeast corner of the room.
Upon the wall beside the eastern door you notice a panel of brass set with green glass, like some sort of button or switch.
As you are still bewildered by suddenly being spirited away to such lost, unknown chambers, it is hard to fully appreciate that you have just witnessed a momentous, albeit bloody turning point in the history of Taldor.
Simply by surviving this massacre, you are now marked as figures of renown.
Now you must simply hope that you have the guile and courage needed to escape and tell the tale.
Chana shies away from Greenly and her spitting. She'd seen some of the perpetually addled sorts in the Narrows, people who hit the pesh too hard and too often. Depending on the herb they did, some of them got dangerous. She wasn't going to risk that Greenly was one of those.
Instead, as light fills the room, she takes in the colors of blood splattered against everyone's clothing. As she does so, it becomes clear that none of that blood is their own. "So it looks like we were protected by something. Something that took us here. Wherever here is. We're all alive, and looks like we weren't hurt too bad." She sweeps to her feet, not bothering to brush any dust off.
Repeating her earlier thought, but more composed this time, she voices "No one saw what happened to the princess? I'm hoping her friend got her out of there." She eyes the doors out of the room. "And while I don't know where here is, I don't know if I'm eager to stay. If this is somewhere in the Senate, those assassins might find us here and finish us off."
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Olivia stands up and tries (in vain) to dust herself off. "Well, no I didn't get a good look. Gods, I pray she got out, and Lady Martella as well."
She then picks up her sword and says "I expect more challenges to appear very shortly. The Goddess has blessed me with new powers, which only means that I will need them soon. I will take one of those candles and lead the way. Does anyone know what that switch by the door does?"