Djon does his best to appear relaxed, as he instinctively looks for signs of danger.
Djon relaxes a little as he doesn't see any signs of danger. And Daniela seems on the up and up. Still, best not relax too much.
Walter helps take the roof down so Tarasik will fit, then hops into the rear behind the drivers seat on the double theory that a point blank spell to the spine will sort out most betrayals and the giant man probably needed the leg room.
The town is small, so the trip to Daniela's "house" is short. House, of course, is not an adequate word; this place is the closest thing this small ugrin village has to a mansion. Set back from the road an hundred yards and sitting atop a hill, the building has three floors plus an attic. There is a large, wrap-around porch that could easily host dozens of guests, and the building is the most well-made and maintained of any you've seen here.
Daniela pulls the car into a circular drive around a small fountain, and a short blond gentleman quickly exits the porch to assist Daniella from the vehicle. His eyebrow raises just an instant at the entourage before his poker face is restored.
In Ugrin: "I wasn't aware we were expecting guests, madame. I'll have Aliz prepare a light snack before supper."
In Ugrin: "That won't be necessary, Ferko, I'll tell her. Just take the automobile 'round to the garage."
Beautiful estate, Miss Szabó. Djon's tone is professional.
Walter nodded, not especially impressed but polite all the same. "Indeed so, and thank you for inviting us to it," he agreed with Djon. He waited politely for her to show them the way.
Djon saw now special security measures, so to speak. If there are any, they are in a realm Djon cannot perceive. Realistically, the building isn't even particularly defensive. There are too many windows, and too little solid stone.
Walter follows Daniella inside, followed presumably by the rest of the party. Billy finds an ornate stone and wire hitching post a few yards away from the steps.
The inside of Daniella's home is sparsely populated with furniture, but expensively so. The fireplace features a painting of an older man with thick sideburns, rumpled brown hair and a mustache, presumably Daniela's father, with a young girl seated on his knee.
Upon the mantle are several photographs.
Daniela spreads her arms wide, gesturing to the few couches and chairs the room provides. Tarasik finds that the couches are both made with sturdy iron frames, and comfortably sits on 2/3 of one.
Daniela's made servant Aliz, a slender, hawkish looking middle aged woman, listens to her instructions to bring refreshments, and leaves the room.
Sinking into a chair, Walter waits for the maid to leave, before he smiles. "Now, since you seem to have received some instruction regarding us, perhaps you would be willing to tell us what you can?"
Tarasik shifts slightly as he makes to sit down, taking a few times to find a position that doesn't feel too uncomfortable. The furnishing was well equipped to handle him at his reduced, "human-like" size, though how well it'd hold up to his full tonnage was up for debate. Until they were more comfortable with this woman, or she made more direct threats, he'd save himself the trouble of testing that out.
From his coat-pocket he draws forth his favorite alchemically chilled whiskey, helping himself to it while Walter talks with their host. It was far too warm by the fire for his liking.
"There's not much I can tell, unfortunately. Bladis, that is Mr. Nefrasi, sent me a telegram two days ago. He simply said some men with your descriptions might be in need of assistance, and that if I could provide any, he would consider it a favor. I don't know anything about your mission per se, though I suspect it's got something to do with war looming over our heads."
"We would appreciate any aid you can offer," Walter said with a small nod. "Primarily, the things we need most are transport and information from the capital - word has been limited to what we can scour from papers, and they are hardly the best source of information."
"Well, I do have some precious little information, though from what you told me about the military en route to Darthapest, it may soon be out of date. Much has happened since you left Mercuria, and I must assume you're unaware of it."
Aliz returns with the requested snacks: a local pastry sort of halfway between baclava and tiramisu, some crumbly strong cheese, a bottle of white wine, and some dark tea.
"Hundreds of nationalist sympathizers have rallied around the cause Marko Gavri, who has disappeared after assassinating Prince Fernando. Many of the local guard are rumored to be loyal to the Ugrin nationalist cause, and the city is in a certain level of Chaos."
"Meanwhile, there is news of troops mobilizing in Southern Prusciany; we can only theorize that they're coming to secure the capital and reassert their hold on Ugrin. Amid that all, it seems Britanglend has made statements in support of Ugrin sovereignty against the power-play by Prusciany, while Russka has stated its position in defense of Pruscian rights over Ugrin."
Without any shame whatsoever, Tarasik slides the platter of provided treats closer so he could more thoroughly satisfy his immense stomach. He did not much care for sweet things, but food was still food. "Not be like this during the old war. We go to border, we fight off, then we go home when done. Regret that too. Now though, things are to being worse. Stakes stronger. Armies bigger. Numbers of enemies and allies larger for both sides of conflict."
Scowling, the Russkin giant takes another swig of his spirit. "Tarasik sees it to be being a 'Penetrative-Cluster', be thinking is term."
Walter made a face. "It sounds like if the first shot is fired between armies then we shall get to see a wonderful game of idiocy dominoes, as one nation is dragged in and pulls the threads of treaties and promises to pull in the next, who pulls in the next, until we see if we can manage to set an entire world aflame with war. Tarasik is right, this war will be big enough to be an abomination."
Well, there was a limited amount he could do to stop that, personally. Helping Ugrin, even if they could, would bring in Russka. Bringing them back into the arm of the Puscians would see them upsetting his former countrymen - which, while tempting, as they would certainly know Walter's image, was probably no great move either.
If there was a third option that they were powerful enough to pull of Walter couldn't see it. Maybe he could terrify the leads of the first couple of armies to show up? Or obliterate them. No leaders, no one to give orders to foolish young men with little choice but to join up to walk forwards into a machine gun post. Limitless courage had no effect on cannon shot.
"Well, we can only have a limited impact on the stupidity of kings. Are you able to help at all with transport, madam? A good coach and two teams would serve, or an automobile if you can spare it and have someone with whom we can leave it safely in the capital. And we can pay our way." He considered there finances. "To a point, at least."
"Well, I did promise Bladis I'd do what I could," the older woman said with a mischievous grin on her face.
"I'll drive you to the capital. I doubt the horse can keep up, though. Will you be riding her to Darthapest, or would you like to leave her in my care?" she asks Billy. "I have stables out back."
It will take significantly longer to get Marion to Darthapest, during which time the trail of Marko Gavri will have grown even colder.
Had Prince Fernando been born into his troubles or sown them during his... career? If one would consider being a prince a career?
Where do you stand, on the matter?
"Well, that's a matter for historians to debate. It seems to me, since the Prince did not yet hold the throne of Prusciany, he was merely a target of opportunity, a way to force the matter. Seems the nationalists hope that there is now enough popular support for Ugrin independence from Prusciany."
"I will carry the horse." Tarasik plainly states, unwilling to leave his friend's precious animal behind.
At the woman's assessment, Hmm... Well that pisses me off even more.
Governments and rebels can bugger each other until the proverbial cows come home and through the night, for all I care.
And, I'm not naive enough to believe people in power are innocents.
But, killing someone as a message or make an example of them does't sit well with me, it's why I'm a... free agent. He offers a forlorn smile.
Let's go fellas, there are lies to hear and people to kill. We're not getting any younger.
Tatasik almost managed to avoid looking at Walter with Djon's last line. At the very least he didn't look the elderly way very long. "Always ready to be moving on."
The trip starts out easy enough. From the village, an actual tar-paved road leads roughly Eastward, and though some rain occasionally sets upon you (forcing Daniela to put the roof back on, which of course makes things cramped even for small Tarasik). But a little past midnight, the car pulls up to the edge of Darthapest.
The borders of the city, however, are being closely watched by Brask soldiers. Evidently they wasted no time setting up shop once disembarking the train. The occasional gunshot or series of gunshots can be heard from within the city.
"Well, gentlemen, how shall we proceed from here? I have a Ugrin passport, but you all don't."
"A problem, certainly," Walter said as he considered. It would be no problem for him to get passed, but some of the others would be more difficult. "Do we wish to try talking our way passed, gentlemen, or employ more exotic means?"
"You have your ways." Stated, rather then suggested. It was very unclear on which ways he was referring to.
Silently, Tarasik precisely did not brood over how the 'conversation' about his friend's horse concluded. It had stopped short of him giving a live demonstration of picking the horse up to prove his own ability to do so. Why people thought he wasn't serious about carrying the animal was beyond him.
Addressing the helpful woman. Are we to meet up once in the city? If so, where and when? Rest assured, we will be there.
"Oh, well, an old woman isn't going to be much help in such times. My preference would be to head home once you're safely inside. If that can happen without my entering the city proper, all the better." Her words are punctuated by another gunshot, closer this time. The woman jumps a little at the sound.
I'll see what's going on...
Godspeed, Mistress. The honor was all ours.
Nodding, Djon turns and moves in the general direction of the checkpoint. Seeming to disappear more quickly that expected or perhaps meld with the very shadows. He's gone.
Djon approaches the nearest, conversing soldiers... trying to get an understanding of their allegiance and attitudes.
Unfortunately, Djon cannot fully understand what the soldiers are saying as they are speaking Brask. However, it's related to Ugarian, and Djon gets a general idea that they hope the "Black Standard" is doing a good job mopping up the Pruscian loyalists in town. After another several gunshots, the men chuckle.
Djon considers using his abiity to Comprehend Languages, but best save it for a more complex conversation.
These men find glee and laugh at the death of others. They are filth.
He quickly returns to the others and reports what he's heard and seen.
Human filth, they are rounding up and executing Pruscian loyalists. I don't understand the big picture here, but executions...
I don't like. It's obvious, his intent is to teach these filth a lesson.
The giant in guise let out a growling snarl. "Tarasik will not stand for such needless cruelty either."
"Walking will probably be easier from here anyway," Walter agreed as he stepped out the car. "Thank you for the ride. If you ever need my services and can get word to me I will help if I am able." Walter gave a short bow before turning to the situation.
"Doing this without violence would be best," he mused. "I can use the same spell I used during the fight to increase everyone's speed and wits somewhat, and I can summon a carriage to act as a distraction. A driverless, empty carriage should cause some comment. I can throw in some unseen servants, as well. So we can cross fast while the guards are distracted, and if caught I can befuddle there minds for a short time."
"Always to be moving so many parts in your plans, Walter." Tarasik noted without voicing opposition.
Walter, I love sticking to the shadows as much as the next guy, probably more... but folks are dying for no good reason, except ideology?
Like the Prince. Djon, abruptly twists hs neck, cracking it audibly.
I don't even like aristocracy and silver spoons, but this is messed up. These men are gleefully committing murder of families, rape of women and perhaps both to children.
Let's take care of the checkpoint and get them to call back the death squads. We don't have to kill them, but we do need to put them on their asses.
If not us, who... if not now, when?
Walter tilted his head. "Yes," he agreed simply. "But taking out this guardpost won't change any of those things. They'll be one just like it on every road into town, after all. There comrades in the city will still rape, murder and pillage whether this station is running or not. It will alert the rest of the army we're here, or at least someone able to delete there guardpost is about. We can kill these men easily enough, I suppose, but fighting a whole army will be challenging. Ultimately, I feel it is better to make an example of the assassin and end the chance that there ritual will summon and ungodly being that will cause suffering in such quantities and in such ways that I cannot even vice them. It will result in far less suffering in the long run."
Shrugging, he added, "With all that being said, I have no great opposition to killing these people. On the condition that we leave none of them to report. They'll know someone is here when they find the bodies, but not know who. Of course, if they blame the locals then it might invoke more savagery from there fellows, so we'll need to give them someone to blame or risk the locals being scapegoated."
We don't need to wade through the masses, just get the info we need to get to the head of the snake. Then, we cut it off.
"We must do what can to stop so much blood shedding." Tarasik weighs in. "Common soldiers will know nothing, we must be finding ranking officers in area."
Djon grunts in agreement. Walter, Billy... you good?
I'll get close, try to take one or two out as the others come to their aid, Billy can pick them off and Tarasik can get closer preferrably in your smaller form.
To Walters point, we don't want to be easily identifiable. Conserve your energy if possible, Walter. Mundane means might be enough to quiet these curs.
Djon waits for nods, before loping off.
Once again Djon has no problem getting close without being observed. He can easily get to within 1 move action before taking any overt action, allowing him to move into melee range before the initiative roll, if he chooses.
The area has a stone fence, with four Brask soldiers taking up a defensive position inside a covered gate.
Djon disguises himself as a Brask soldier, in uniform and hat... the highest rank he's had the opportunity to view either tonight or previously. Around his thigh a bloody handage.
Coughing, he stumbles into view... his intent to end up leaning some structure or tree, 30 feet from the covered gate in dim light.
Most of the soldiers snap to alert, and look at each other confusedly.
"Do you need assistance, sir?" one of them asks meekly.
Djon reaches for his own throat, then raps his chest... nodding yes.
Two of the guards look questioningly around, and then shoulder their rifles and move forward to assist. They move as if to steady Djon and help him toward the gate.
Djon may act at any time (pre-initiative).
Djon merely allows himself to be assisted, as any injured man would.
The giant looks down to his elder comrade, confined in the shadows of a recently evacuated structure. His weapon is held in hand, primed for use whenever it was time. He was still somewhat unsure of the roll he was meant to play, but he would surely do everything he could to fulfil it.
They escort the wounded "officer" back to the gate, not sensing anything is amiss.
"Can you not talk, sir? Is your throat injured?"
Djon tries to remember the Brask word for water, maybe he could pull it off.
Water...
The man draws his canteen and and hands it to Djon. Djon believes he's in a place now where if things were to happen quickly, it would be pretty difficult for the guards to lock them out. There do not appear to be any additional guards at this checkpoint, so as long as the battle is brief, you should be able to disappear inside after disabling these.
Djon points outward... speaking in strong steady Ugarian. People are coming, choose your actions wisely.
He seems like a nice enough guy for his allies, but he was one of the ones chuckling previously. Whatever his overall worldview, he seems a soldier thru and thru, and killing the enemy (or anyone who stands against objectives) is just par for the course.
Billy takes a surprise shot.
Attack 1:
Damage:
Billy's first shot knocks the soldier to the ground. He cries out in pain and moves back on the ground looking for an enemy.
Tarasik has moved up so that he can get to melee on initiative. Sir Walter is in hiding about 60' from the gate.
Intiative:
Brask Soldiers:
Billy:
Djon:
Tarasik:
Walter:
Djon, then bad guys, then everyone else.