"Might as well talk to the one in town, and if it seems innocent we can rent horses to travel to the other," Walter responded with a small nod.
"Might as well talk to the one in town, and if it seems innocent we can rent horses to travel to the other," Walter responded with a small nod.
Makes sense, Walter... logical as always.
It's a quick train ride back to Old Town. Nobel Stables is on the far southeast corner, the opposite area from where you had your battle with the thugs yesterday (way back in September 2020 IRL).
You recognize the stable master as one of the Old Town representatives at the meeting this morning. He gives you a nod as you walk up.
"Figure out what that explosion was?"
"A very poor assassination attempt," Walter replied with a small smile. "Would you mind if we asked some questions? The gentleman involved smelled of horses, so we thought he might have stabled his mount here." Assuming the stable master gave his agreement, Walter described the man as he had been. The accent could be a trick, of course, and hair dye and skin dye was a thing. Eyes would be harder, and build and height more difficult still. Illusions could make anything seem as needed, but they weren't common, and needed to 'mesh' with a physical form to avoid being spotted with all but the most powerful spells.
"Na, Nobody renting or stablin' with that description. I'm the stable master, so I would know."
A second later, a younger man walks around the corner hauling horse dung in a wheelbarrow.
The giant's eyes trail over to the stablehand. "Where do you dispose that?"
"Over there in the run-off. Unless you want to buy some like the other guy," the young man says hopefully.
His brows furrow, "Please be explaining. Who is other guy?"
The young man's boss looks on in amazement; clearly he knew nothing of this recent "side business." He proceeds to give you a description that could well match Deana's. Of course, many other people might as well, but it is a suspicious synchronicity.
"Hmm." He rubs his chin, finding it very curious indeed. "Walter?"
"Dung is useful in several industries," Walter mused. It seemed like a solid lead...so long as there was something useful here, rather than confirmation that the person was using manure to create explosives. "Where did you deliver the produce to this man, young sir?"
"Oh, I didn't. He too it with him in a wagon."
Over the next couple days, the heroes manage to pinpoint the bomber to a man named Marko Gavri, a native of Ugrin. Ugrin is a once independent country that, for the last hundred fifty years or so, has been a vassal state of the Pruscian Empire. He arrived in Mercuria via ship from Esperan 2 weeks ago. You have had no success in finding him in Shicagopolis.
Toward the end of your investigation, you begin to notice a larger number of military and government types about. Word of your handiwork at the fire (and possibly other encounters) seems to have reached the government.
END ADVENTURE 1
Level up!
"Tarasik finds this... Worrisome." The giant spoke one day, when the group had assembled once again. He was in his normal form this time, giving his aching joints a break from the cramped sensation of being artificially shrunk down.
"It was to be expected," Walter said with a calm turn of tone. "We are, if nothing else, notable. So long as we don't end up in too many news papers the Government will likely leave us be. They don't have enough spare divisions to try arresting us again, if we chose to resist arrest. We can chose to leave later, or stand and fight. For now, I feel we should finish the task we accepted and bring this foolish bomber to justice."
He nods his head, before bringing a bring to his lips. Within his massive hands, the beer mug seemed almost comically small despite holding enough frothy alcohol to knock out a small Dwarf. Tarasik manages to drain it with one gulp before setting it down. "We can not be letting them get away."
”A damn good idea as always Walt. If those bastards from the army want to take us in, I say we give ‘em as much hell as we can before going out in a blaze o’ glory. Least, that’s my plan. If we can put it off or avoid it entirely, no objections there.”
"Tarasik will be crushing them underfoot." He proudly assures.
"Last stands are very exciting in the bard's song, but I personally prefer the crushing victory against impossible odds. Still, hopefully we didn't upset anyone enough during our time with the military that they'll insist on trying to re-capture us. Let's hope that they're not foolish enough to pick a fight and find out which how that particular tale will end."
It would be a Pyrrhic victory whoever the winner, Walter suspected. Enough troops would bring them down, but with even a little time they could make it shockingly expensive in manpower and equipment. And they knew some of Walter's gifts. He'd used his abilities to punch holes in fortifications. If he was still alive and angry enough there was nowhere they could hide.
And that was far from the nastiest trick in his repertoire. He really must remember to locate and purchase some especially vile poisons at some point.
It had been some time since Djon worked as part of a team? What was that pang?
Do I miss it? Sentimental fool...
We must be careful what thread we tug upon, we never know what worlds we unravel.
So much easier working alone. But, but if i have to work with a team, this is the one.
"If they be knowing what is good for them, they will be leaving Tarasik live in piece. If not, they will be forced to live in pieces instead." He assured, face turning grim. Inflicting injury upon men merely acting on thr behalf of their nation was never a goal he inspired towards, not since leaving Mercuria's military, but he would not shy away from violence.
BEGIN ADVENTURE 2
In the intervening time since the attack on the Telegraph, the mobsters and the business folk of Old Town have hammered out an agreement that will give the people of Old Town enough cash to start out anywhere in the city they want, or move somewhere else entirely. Some of them have already begun moving out.
Your old mission completed, and Deana on the mend, she puts through the rest of the payment you were owed, 3000 divided among the four of you. It is very little money for men of your power, but it is enough to secure your daily needs well enough, as well as keep Billy in ammo and whatever other regular equipment you might need.
At this point, perhaps Sir Walter would share the information he has gleaned on the potential location and plans of the bomber, Marko Gavri.
Walter sat, staring into the mirrored silver, his eyes seeking Truths. Not the truth, but Truths, the actuality of reality stored within the Akashic Archives. Everything that was reality was stored there, and taking a peek was within Walter's powers.
Seek, seek, the magic did, hunting for the answers to the strange bomber. The spell sought through the archives until it found what he sought, and showed Walter what he sought.
----
Leaving the small room in which his bed resided, and which he used when no more acceptable option presented itself, Walter rolled his neck and re-donned his coat. "Our target is called Marko Gavri. Hopefully he has been foolish enough to use his real name on the assumption no one will know it here." Of course, Walter also used his real name, and retained his title too. In his case it was something of a snub to his former compatriots.
Billy’s occupies his time with drinking, gambling, and some crime-fighting here and there. The dealings with criminals didn’t sit well with him, too close to his old life, and so he spent his nights taking some direct action to assuage his conscience.
———
He sat, cleaning his gun with his boots kicked up on the table. Walter’s digs were nicer than the glorified closet in the flophouse that Billy had chosen to stay in, so he found himself spending a fair amount of time there. ”So, I’m guessin’ your magic came through. Anything else on this fella? I can work with a name, but I’d take more if you’ve got it.”
"Muddled. Our new friend seems to have been the man who assassinated of the prince in Darthapast, and by killing him caused a multinational war for undoubtedly stupid reasons. And it seems to be to summon something I could not see. Even the shadow, the suggestion of it strains the mind and broils the stomach. Marko, or someone connected to him, thinks calling it is a wise move." Walter snorted his disdain. There was never a reason to summon something like that which wasn't mad. Whatever they thought a being like that would, whatever chains and commands and limits they thought they could place on it, they were wrong.
"Something of a downgrade, to kill a journalist after murdering a prince and starting a war. It seems like there may be more here than we currently see."
Now that he thinks about it, Sir Walter does not remember any news of recent political assassinations in Darthapast. If this event has indeed occurred, it has done so too recently for Mercuria to have heard about it. In fact, your visions of war might have been more insight of the ebb of the universe around the assassination, than actual history.
In other words, these events are in motion now, since the bombing. Which means either Marko has a twin, or he has some means of rapid transport to the Old Country, as neither ship nor train would allow the timing.
Walter passes along this realization as he comes out of the spell induced daze. "Hmm. So if the prince isn't dead - yet - or has just passed, we know why we can't find the little sod. I fear travel is in our future, gentleman, if we are to continue this pursuit."
Tarasik frowns, and it's obvious he doesn't quite understand Walter's thought process. Such witchraft is truly beyond him. "Have plan?"
Of all the Gods be damned places, Darthapast? Dammit, didn't want to go back there. How can we avail ourselves of Godspeed?
Jon didn't really now the journalist girl, but a hit on her was low. It didn't sit well. And that was an itch that needed to be scratched, whatever the politics.
Looking at Tarasik's light confusion, Walter explains, "I believe what I saw was either something that will happen in the near future, or is happening as of this moment. If the former then we may be able to avert a world war, something I think we can agree would be for the best no matter how much fun smiting armies is. If the latter then we can at least reveal the killer, gain vengeance for our employer and possibly avert a future where a world devouring monster. Again, a reality I'd prefer to avoid." Anything that repulsed his quite debased mind would have to be truly awful.
"Regardless, the plan is as Djon says. Make our way to Darthapast with all due haste. Sadly, teleportation is not a gift I possess, which begs the question of what the fastest method of transport would be."
"Avoiding war would be good. Strong, but not strong enough to defeat whole armies. Not when I need to protect people in danger too." He spoke, agreeing. "If already in progress... Perhaps finding the instigator will put things to rest. Darthapast then."
"Train, I reckon. I can put some miles on these wings if need be but I don't imagine I'll be able to carry more than one 'a ya."
The Russkin man slowly nods. "Used to travel that way with the circus."
To start the journey, at least, the most accessible and probably expedient way would be a train from Shicagopolis to Kenoisha City, the seat of the Mercurian Government. That journey would take roughly 30 hours.
From there, the most common route (if one wished to be expedient) would be a ship across the Acovaga Lake to Valerida, Esperan (another 30 hours or so). However, few passengers took that route. Esperan had just recently created a Constitutional Monarchy in the wake of it's overthrown colonialist government; but it was the only (normally) passable direct route into The Old Country.
Once in Esperan, you could take another train from Valerida to Darthapest is another 40 hours or so. So, just over 4 days.
There are other routes you could take, but none quicker with conventionally accepted means of travel.
"Well, it'll be a long stretch of waitin' and we'd do best to lay real low in Kenoisha City but I don't see a better way to go."
"As good a plan as any, if it's fast. Let us go and purchase tickets." Walter hoped they had the assets for such a trip, since they had no sponsor.
Djon seems in thought, but with little to add at the moment.
Best we get started.
Djon seems in thought, but with little to add at the moment.
[dice=Kn Local, wizard in area for teleport]1d20+5
Best we get started.
Unfortunately not a lot of casters of any time around in this day and age; thus the amazing uniqueness of your group.
Purchasing tickets goes off without a hitch, with the exception of having to hide momentarily from some keystone cops spread out across the city recently.
As you prepare to board the train later that evening (after sunset), your "friend" Bladis Negrasi shows up.
"Well, I see the wheels of fate are cranking at last. I had heard hushed rumors such things were in the works. And off you go to right it! How heroic," he says mockingly.
"Nevertheless, in this, I agree with you. These events now flowing about us are a danger to all who [ahem] live. If you need anything while in the old country, particularly in Ugrin, send me a telegram. I have friends there, though they lie low."
"Yes. Please be making sure you are to be keeping out of trouble." The Russkin spoke, leveling a narrow look at Bladis.
"A telegram should be easy enough," Walter agreed cheerfully, "And I'm sure we get them as well, once we have a place to deliver them to." A subtle reminder that 'gone' did not mean 'out of touch'. "Thank you for wishing us well on our trip, I'm sure it will be quite interesting."
Walter didn't ask how the other man knew what was happening, nor where they were located. He simply noted that he could do it.
Djon isn't sure if there was a veiled threat in there somewhere, so he offered Negrasi a long look as if sizing him up all over again.
Djon isn't sure if there was a veiled threat in there somewhere, so he offered Negrasi a long look as if sizing him up all over again.
It's always hard to tell, but he seems legit. He did once refer to himself as "An artist, working in the fabric of history." Certainly, such a person, even be he only delusional, would want some part in the outcome of a continent-wide war. So it fits his MO to offer assistance to several powerful interlopers.
The last train to Kenoisha leaves in the evening, a couple hours after dinner. The cars are luxurious, with waitresses serving drinks, food, and fine cigars. The ride is pretty calm for the rest of the night; the land from Shicagopolis to Kenoisha is fairly flat and without extensive geographic features that would slow down or complicate journey by rail. By morning, almost half your journey is spent.
Stretching with a crack of his bones, Walter looked around. Sitting on a train for so long was difficult, even with some decent books to read and sleeping. "And now we stroll down to the docks and find ourselves a ship," he said slowly. Perhaps they could find something to eat? "Does anyone have anything they wish to do before we find a boat?"
Tarasik nods, patting his stomach. "Too many peanuts, not enough substance. Tarasik be suggesting we seek breakfast first."
"Food is always a wise stop," agreed Walter, the consummate soldier in that regard. Always eat your fill when the option was available. "Any supplies to acquire after we find some food?"
Kenoisha is smaller than Shicagopolis, but no less grandiose. Here, the oldest statues of the colonists on Mercuria stand amid the halls of governance. The train has left you right downtown, in the middle of a bustling foot traffic. Once you get out from the train station a bit, the air is less rank than in Shicagopolis. Kenoisha has little in the way of industry, at least this close in to the city center.
It doesn't take long to find restaurants and food stands near the train station. Most any food you can imagine in Central or Eastern Petronia can be found here, and some more exotic foods besides.
The large man's eyes flick from sign to sign, something very faintly tempting his nose. It was then that he spotted it, something that made his stony face light up into absolute joy. A slice of home away from home, right across the way. "Ahah! I know where we shall be eating. Come come,"
Punctuating his words he slaps his massive hands against the backs of both Billy and Djon. He knew far better then to lay his hands upon Walter the witch. "We be going to Odinokiy Sugrob." A jerk of his chin towards the 'Lonely Snowdrift' Russkin restaurant across the way. "Have you boys ever to be eating Syrniki? No? Come try, you will enjoy selves!"