Meneas looks at Lina and Morof after a few moments. "Well, I haven't heard any alarms going up, so that's good." He considers a moment, flexing his fingers. "Why do you like lanterns more than torches, Lina?"
Lina gives a bit of a start at the question, and it’s fairly obvious that she’s never had to put it in words before, was just being flippant, as all too often. And so, “Oh, several reasons.”
Her exaggerated shrug suggests that what’s coming next may need a grain of salt.
“Mostly, they’re easier to work with in wild weather,” she says, eyes settling into the middle distance as she recalls some squalls she’s seen blow in off the rivers, in her time. “Burn cleaner, too, and – maybe this is the most important thing, after all – you can do marvellous things with the right glass. Bend and colour the light in all sorts of ways. The priestesses of the Wise are especially keen on such things, and I hear some of the folk in the Mwangi Expanse do similar.”
“I’m not that sort of alchemist, really, but some of what goes into that is interesting,” she adds, her mind belying her words as part of it latches onto the question of whether such things could be useful to her magic after all, as her worries about what the fort holds in store gets her thinking about possibilities that might be worth looking into.
Signy slips back to rejoin Brental. She motions him back into the tunnel corridor and closes the door.
"I have an idea of where the door is in relation to the gate and towers. I wish there was a way we could get everyone in this way, there's a lot of potential. Let's get back and fill everyone else in."
Signy walks back to the far end of the tunnel and waits for Brental to climb up.
Meneas flexes his fingers, tilting his head. "Bend light?" He thinks about it for a moment. "Funny, I'd've thought that it would prevent that. A lantern, I mean. At least the hooded sort, which makes sure it only goes in one direction, no?"
Brental continues breathing low and shallow, nodding at Signy and preparing to be as quiet as possible.
As Brental and Signy sneak out along the western edge of the fort all is well and quiet aside form the usual sounds of merry-making in the fort itself when a tickle in Brental's nose suddenly becomes too much to bare and he lets out a loud sneeze halfway along the length of the fort.
A calm voice calls out, "Did you lot hear that?"
Followed by another, the same voice Signy and Brental recognize from before. "I KNEW I 'eard somethin' back there! I KNEW it!"
An older man's voice joins the chorus as a brass bell starts to ring out from within the camp. "INTRUDERS! WE GOT INTRUDERS BOYS! WAKE YER ARSE'S UP YOU SORRY LOT! IT'S KILLIN' TIME!"
Brental and Signy hear the sound of feet hitting the ground hard and then the creaking of old wood first away from them then growing much closer!
Meneas flexes his fingers, tilting his head. "Bend light?" He thinks about it for a moment. "Funny, I'd've thought that it would prevent that. A lantern, I mean. At least the hooded sort, which makes sure it only goes in one direction, no?"
“Mm-hm,” Lina hums in agreement, her hands gesturing vaguely to clarify a bit, “I’ll admit that that needs a prettier chimney than the most sensible sort of storm lantern, or some fun with prisms, but I hope I’ve never boasted of being very sensible, and I’m probably making it sound far more dramatic than it is, for practical purposes.”
“I suppose one might be able to do something with different types of glass, just like you can tell a fake stone from the real because of the way it catches the light – or doesn’t, more likely,” she continues, warming to the theme, but before she can add anything more, an alarm bell rings out from the fort.
Her eyes instantly snap in that direction, looking for where Signy and Brental would be coming from, and she jumps to her feet, getting her bow in hand.
“What do you think?” she asks the others waiting. “Should we try to get closer, or try to draw the bandits’ attention until the other two get back? If we're getting dragged into a fight now, I'd rather it be as close to on our terms as it can.”
Meneas listens curiously to Lina's lecture, but when he hears the alarm go up, he straightens, ready for combat. He looks to Morof. "Can you cause them to see things? Hear things? Perhaps you can make them think the undead are attacking the front gate."
He looks at the fortress. "Especially if someone actually is."
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Morof is very concentrated with his scribbling when the bells ring. He looks up annoyed and says "What is all that ruckus? Can't a wizard work in peace anymore?" Then, the realisation hits him. He gets up walking around a little lost then Meneas gives him a task. "Yes, yes! Let me... try something."
He considers the image of a pegasus being ridden by an elven king. About Meneas' idea he says "I'm not powerful enough for that, I can conjure just one creature. I'll make a big undead, but it'd help if we could lure the real undead to the gates. I'm not good at conjuring light, can you help make the undead better seen, Lina?"
Meneas grunts. "It'll have to do for now." He nods at the request for light. "I'll need it if I'm to do what I'm planning. I wanted to go do some damage to the gate under the guise of the undead doing so, but one big one will suffice."
The knight swiftly moves over to mount Veil. "She'll do most of the kicking, I think, and I'll hope they don't throw open the gates and see me." He pauses. "I don't think we have much time, but any ideas to distract them would be good to hear now."
Signy is disappointed, but not as badly as one might think considering the great hopes she had for using the tunnel. She'd played through that now alternate future in her head, and knew it was doomed to frustration. Even if she could get everyone to agree to some sort of workable plan, it would be doomed to fail when what had just happened now happened then instead. It's almost a relief to her.
At that precise moment there's only one thing to do. Signy spares a moment to tell Brental "nothing to do but run like hell now", then she does exactly that.
"Follow my route!"
Signy runs first to put distance between herself and the watch towers, zigging and zagging randomly some as she goes. Once she's opened up some goodly distance from the fort so she helped by the darkness, Signy curves around toward the camp to link up with the others.
Meneas grunts. "It'll have to do for now." He nods at the request for light. "I'll need it if I'm to do what I'm planning. I wanted to go do some damage to the gate under the guise of the undead doing so, but one big one will suffice."
The knight swiftly moves over to mount Veil. "She'll do most of the kicking, I think, and I'll hope they don't throw open the gates and see me." He pauses. "I don't think we have much time, but any ideas to distract them would be good to hear now."
Lina nods and starts checking her improbable loops and pockets. “Brental enspelled my signet for me, that’ll do. If we had more time – but I’ll try to do my very best banshee anyway!”
She’s not sure where her powder’s got to, at least, not the stuff that doesn’t live in her component pockets, and it would take too long to put that much on in any case. Oh, and to have had that cantrip prepared!
“Here, take this,” she says instead, offering each of the gents a flask full of a rather vaporous cloudy purple fluid.
“Tatzlwyrm venom,” she explains, looking especially at Meneas. “Lob it over the gate or at the nearest watchtower while Veil’s kicking? It will evaporate into a thin cloud, just visible. Getting it to this state means it’s less dangerous, but they don’t need to know that, so it might give them pause, take their edge off, or make them go around.”
With that, Lina extracts her dazzling ring from its pocket and slips it on, double-checks her own flask of wyrm stuff and where her centipede venom’s got to as well, in case she has enough time before the gates open, and gets ready to follow Meneas and Morof’s illusion down to the gates, balancing trying to look spooky like a terrifying undead monstrosity with enough power to take all the time in the world with the need to move fast.
Curse the dust of the tunnel! As Signy breaks into a run, Brental follows her at his fastest pace. He would be able to keep her pace. But where did she think she was going?
And why were the guards jumping to conclusions like this?
The druid considers summoning something to keep the bandits busy, but decides that taking the time to start the ritual would be ill-advised. Perhaps once that had put some distance between them and the Fort.
Blood pounds in his ears as his boots make impact with the ground, no longer concerned with stealth.
Meneas nods swiftly at the witch, taking the poison. "Well thought, Lina." There's an approving smile in his voice. "Do either of you want to come with me?"
He hops up on Veil's back, and she immediately takes on the fey aspect that their bond grants her.
"There they are! Get 'em!" shouts one of the men who has now ascended the watch tower right before a rain of arrows fire down at the fleeing adventurers.
The arrows fall woefully short however as the pair retreat into the distance and out of range of the archers.
Meneas nods swiftly at the witch, taking the poison. "Well thought, Lina." There's an approving smile in his voice. "Do either of you want to come with me?"
He hops up on Veil's back, and she immediately takes on the fey aspect that their bond grants her.
“Right behind you,” Lina nods to Meneas, trying to figure out the safest way to cause a ruckus, eyeing angles of approach for where she might be able to whip off an arrow of her own that could conceivably find a target in the watchtowers, or where she might get close enough to use the palisade itself for cover before tossing a flask of poison into the enclosure.
All while Meneas beats the door down, or meets anyone sallying forth to try to chase Signy and Brental down.
Brental continues running. He is well enough in shape that he could shout to Signy, but doesn't want to give the people shooting arrows at them better locational positioning. He wants to shout something to the effect of how this might change their plans the next day, but that can wait until they know they're safe and back with the others.
This could be a long night...
With archers a reduced danger to them, Signy begins to curve around to go in the direction of their camp.
Meneas looks at his two companions, and then gestures quickly. "Go." Once they have cast their spells, he spurs Veil forwards, the tatzylworm poison in one hand.
Brental's stomach sinks as he thinks about the alarm going off. Oh...what would the others do? Hopefully they would trust them and stay put rather than trying anything rash. Right?
...right?
Brental sees his friends about to charge in, setting off the attack fully, and he looks at Signy.
"I'm going to do something I may regret, but I think I can stop us from getting into this."
The druid flexes his fingers and beckons the roots and vines beneath Meneas, Lina, Morof, Veil, and Vodnykel to restrain them.
Signy wonders if maybe they shouldn't all just proceed with an attack now the gig is up on their presence in the area. But caution probably won't kill anyone. She says nothing, catching her breath for a moment.
With her enspelled ring on her finger pouring out an unearthly light, hair billowing loose behind her as she races after Meneas and Morof’s illusion, and as she forces her voice into a dreadful keening cry, Lina hopes that she looks at least somewhat the part of a banshee trailing after some other hungry undead, and that that might draw the bandits' attention away from her other friends.
Unfortunately, she hasn’t figured out the complicated magic for flight yet, which would very definitely help. As she goes, she finally spots Signy and Brental: she’s relieved to see that they seem to be alright, moving quickly and to meet them, but then again, if they get too far from the fort…
Signy wonders if maybe they shouldn't all just proceed with an attack now the gig is up on their presence in the area. But caution probably won't kill anyone. She says nothing, catching her breath for a moment.
Whichever one it is, someone's looking after the witch, and she manages to avoid getting snared as she hurls herself at the nearest edge of the spell's area, rather lamenting the fact that she doesn't have all a wailing ghost's powers.
Her voice easily soars still higher in frustration, and only her concern that it's just conceivable one of the bandits speaks Elven ensures that her banshee impression doesn't suddenly include vile aspersions about meddling Sevenarches druids.
Veil manages to glide about through the encroaching vines with grace and ease as though they were merely a distraction, but a fleeting memory.
Menawhile Vod and Morof's horse arent so lucky as the vines entwine their legs holding them in place while they trumpet and whiney in shock and fear.
In the distance the voices begin reacting to the soght of this monsterous abomination Morof and Lina have conjured up.
"Wh-What the 'ell is that fudgin' thing?!" The nasaly voice cries out.
"No idea but we have to see it dead." shouts another when a third much calmer voice chimes in.
"Just an illusion my fellows, don't be distracted... Jex, go get the Stag."
Celestial. The bandits are less likely to know that, Lina decides. The thing is, it’s kind of tricky to swear satisfyingly in it. The language tends to frame things as positively as possible where it doesn’t resort to periphrasis or outright loanwords.
It helps if one doesn't mind adding gratuitous sarcasm in. Doing her level best to advance despite the plants she knows are trying to sneak back up on her, Lina briefly interrupts her performance to level Brental with a glare, her eyes flashing.
It is considerably less effusive than she would like, but there will be time later. See if she ever tries to save his bacon in future.
Behind the palisade ahead, there's a confused sound of alarmed banditry, which is gratifying, but also, much less so, a quieter voice that Lina's less sure about through the expanse of night, but that sounds most irritatingly like someone keeping their cool. Someone's got an arrow with their name on it, if the witch has anything to say about it.
Signy balls her fists, the thrill is real. But this is a real mess. She grabs Brental's arm and tugs him onward.
"They need to know we're out here, not in there. It's time to find ourselves another project until things cool down."
Once she has Brental in motion she begins running again after issuing a very loud whistle.
Meneas whirls, looking for the spellcaster even as Veil passes through the enchanted vines with ease. Sometimes I regret being born human.
With a mental shrug, he keeps behind the giant undead, trying to make sure that the illusion blocks sight of him and his mount. This could prove difficult...
Brental sighs and dismisses the entanglement, running towards the others with Signy.
"You're right, Signy. Damn."
To Lina, Brental half-whistles his response to try to mask his Celestial response to Lina as night birdsong.
Having seen through the illusion one of the bandits Meneas can now see atop the watchtowers looses a shot from his bow which sails through the illusion and strikes Meneas on the chest as he approaches though, thankfully his impressive armor deflects the projectile with relative ease as the knight makes his final approach to the gates of the enemy.
"We've got company boys right behid that fake. There's a grim horseman." the calm voice cries out.
Meneas grunts in pain at the impact from the bow, before reining in and drawing his own bow. Nocking an arrow, he fires back at the half-elf who spotted him. I don't think this will work well...
The half-elf grunts in pain as Meneas' arrow sinks into his shoulder. Still he maintains a calm facade and makes to reach for another arrow when a shadowy figure steps out from behind him and pushes him back down the tower and out of sight.
The figure is a solid foot taller than the others, sturdily built like an oak. And horned, like a demon.
Raising a torch you can see that this must be the man known as the Stag-Lord. The one who has caused so much strife for the people of this land. He stands shirtless but with an impressive helmet made of stag bones and complete with antlers. In one hand he wields a torch and in the other a mighty composite bow though it is not drawn.
The man stands proud and tall, glowering down at Meneas for a time before he finally speaks, his voice booming like thunder projecting an aura of command. "So it is true what they say..." the man speaks slowly and with purpose as though chewing on his words before he spits them out. "riders at night never carry glad tidings." He muses before raising his bow to ppint at Meneas.
"Tell me boy... Who is it that has come some boldly before me and yet is too cowardly to show his face?" He gestures widely to the zombie illusion and chuckles with a gravely tone. "Who is it that brings witchcraft and falsehoods to my kingdom? And why should I not kill you where you stand?"
Brental sighs and dismisses the entanglement, running towards the others with Signy.
"You're right, Signy. Damn."To Lina, Brental half-whistles his response to try to mask his Celestial response to Lina as night birdsong.
** spoiler omitted **
Mollified – especially because she can feel the twisting plants subsiding from where they’ve been tugging at her legs – Lina subsides, and stops her keening too, since with her having to actually worry about undergrowth proving she’s not a ghost, and bandits beginning to clue in to the illusory component of the adventurers’ attack, she can save her breath.
Nonetheless, she continues hurrying forward as best she can to meet Brental and Signy and stay as close to Meneas as possible. Whether or not they press the assault, she really doesn’t want anyone to get caught on their own if the bandits rise to the occasion.
Raising a torch you can see that this must be the man known as the Stag-Lord. The one who has caused so much strife for the people of this land. He stands shirtless but with an impressive helmet made of stag bones and complete with antlers. In one hand he wields a torch and in the other a mighty composite bow though it is not drawn.
The man stands proud and tall, glowering down at Meneas for a time before he finally speaks, his voice booming like thunder projecting an aura of command. "So it is true what they say..." the man speaks slowly and with purpose as though chewing on his words before he spits them out. "riders at night never carry glad tidings." He muses before raising his bow to ppint at Meneas.
"Tell me boy... Who is it that has come some boldly before me and yet is too cowardly to show his face?" He gestures widely to the zombie illusion and chuckles with a gravely tone. "Who is it that brings witchcraft and falsehoods to my kingdom? And why should I not kill you where you stand?"
She would hate to admit it, but one of said witches rather admires the Stag Lord’s flair, now that she’s met him. Some things are just like in the stories, it seems! She’s not sure about the shirtlessness (Irrelevantly, she considers it’s not a look she could carry off, probably, barring a lot more swirly woad than she has to hand and, mostly, how barbaric. That sort of thing was lost to the dust of legend before the Age of Serpents, at least in these climes, among any mortals with a claim to civilization.), but the grandstanding is proper villainous.
Anyway, she thinks about several rejoinders, none of which she is entirely sure wouldn’t provoke a volley of arrows, and she is unhappily aware that most of her magic for the day is desperately short-ranged and the momentum of her charge has been blunted. Perhaps the least confrontational thing that springs to mind is that the Stag is harbouring a fugitive Sneeg, but how she could talk that into favourable conditions for taking on the rest of the bandits is unclear.
It’s a right conundrum, and a lot depends on how Meneas is feeling and what he says.
Meneas simply looks up at the Stag Lord, his eyes hidden with his hood. He flicks his cloak to obscure his body, making it seem as though he's readied something else, before turning Veil away and riding swiftly into the darkness.
Once he arrives at the others' side, he speaks in a low voice. "If they send out parties, we should try ambushing them. Otherwise, I suggest a retreat."
Lina almost misses her cue. Really, she oughtn’t be surprised that a gentleman who spends his days swathed in a mysterious cloak should also have a sense of panache, and she’s thrilled to see that she’s getting a sort of ghost story after all as Meneas does his sinister apparition bit, the warning to the evildoer of impending retribution.
Regardless, she quickly palms and pockets her ring, leaving only the bandits’ torches to illuminate the scene as she joins the general retreat.
She’s sure that poor Morof will be grateful to finally be allowed to prepare some more scrolls in peace. Well, she hopes. They’ll have to set a particularly careful watch tonight, and her mind already starts turning over how she might best prepare for storming a fort on its guard, regretting that she’s not learned how to bind her magic in ink yet - at least, not in a form ready to blossom to life in an instant.
The bandit lord simply stands and watches as Meneas and his fey-touched steed vanish once again into the night. He does not tremble or quake at the cavalier's bravado but stands calm, unfazed.
The man beside him raises his bow to take a shot at the fleeing horseman but the Stag Lord's arm shoots up and roughly stops him.
And then he just stands there for a minute or two. Staring... before he departs.
Throughout the rest of the night the party can witness that the watch-towers are now fully manned with each guard carrying a torch to light their way.
Once they've all backed off into the night to where they're safe to stop and she's caught her breath, Signy asks "so when's the wedding again?"
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Morof struggles to have his horse go after Lina, seeing how panicked he is. Eventually they start to retreat together. Morof says visibly annoyed "Well, I liked the original plan where we didn't rush into the fort and just prepared scrolls and adequate spells and had a surprise attack. I am no strategy mastermind, but I'm sure anything would have been better than this." His voice sounds squeaky.
Meneas snorts. "It's true, that would've been preferable, but we had little choice in the matter. They noticed something was amiss, and we needed to get their attention away from our friends."
He shifts on Veil's saddle. "I doubt they'll be willing to send out hunters tonight, but they'll probably start looking come morning."
“Something definitely went wrong,” Lina agrees resignedly, her brow unfurrowing as it registers that everyone’s unharmed. Which means first blood is ours, for what it’s worth.
“The jig was up anyway, at least as far as some unwelcome presence was concerned, and we were able to dissuade any immediate pursuit. They know our numbers, but not all that we can do, so if we keep watch while you work on some scrolls and exercise your creativity for tomorrow morning’s preparations, we should still be able to retain the advantage,” she tries to reassure both the wizard and herself. “I think if two of us could get over the wall, especially carrying grapples and knotted ropes from Brental’s kit, the rest of us could follow quickly.”
He shifts on Veil's saddle. "I doubt they'll be willing to send out hunters tonight, but they'll probably start looking come morning."
She looks to Meneas again, who she’s sure is the best rider and so will have the clearest idea of how to read the terrain around the fort for the purpose. “Do you think we could anticipate them? Ride in along the edge of the lake at first light and then turn in where the wall’s closest? It doesn’t look like more than a bowshot, so if we time it right, maybe cast a few spells in advance…”
“Or – and it won’t carry all of us, so we’ll have to build a raft or something, and it will mean my riding through the night – I could fetch my boat. If we stay low, we could probably float in all but silently in the morning twilight. We couldn’t take our horses, though, so we’d probably need to hope for a misty, moisty morning.”
Brental is quiet as they retreat away, cursing himself for being unable to keep up with Signy without clattering away rocks and giving away their position. And though he saw it as a good option to stop them from charging in unprepared, he senses the others' frustration with him for delaying the possibility of the assault and blowing the chance. It was his fault all around, and he knows it.
The druids of the Oakstewards did not usually train their adherents in the ways of espionage. More well-trained druids usually adopted other forms if they wanted to observe the affairs of others inconspicuously. All that it usually required was knowing what animals would be unremarkable in a given location should they be discovered, and having a contingency plan to get away. But that was not a skill that Brental had yet mastered. Why had he volunteered, so woefully underprepared?
The druid broods. As they withdrew into the darkness, he had thought of summoning a convocation of eagles to antagonize the Stag Lord, soaring on swift wings across the distance and tearing at his eyes with their talons. But why give away their abilities even more than they already had? He had also thought to invoke Davik Nettles, but...no, Brental was not likely to find the right words to strike lasting fear into a man as confident atop the palisade as the Stag Lord showed himself to be.
As Brental thinks more on the situation, he tries to calm his mind. No, things had not gone well. But they had learned even more information. That was good to focus on. Surely it was not his only weapon, but the Stag Lord seemed to favor his bow. Perhaps one of the arcanist's had magic to protect them from the sting of arrows? And then they had a sense of who else was here and what they were capable of, even if only in a limited sense.
At last though, Brental wants to join the tactical conversation.
"I could build us rafts for a waterward approach. They may not expect that. But they are expecting us now." Brental looks sullen at that remark before continuing. "We could ambush any groups that come out looking for us, whittle down their resolve and resources over the course of days. We could fully retreat and lull them into a false sense of security. Or we could press what little advantage we have left and fight bloody through the Fort." The druid sighs. To be true, he favored the latter at this point. A prolonged confrontation seemed ill-advised.
"I propose ambushes, if we notice them coming for us, at any rate." Meneas says thoughtfully. "They lose some of their numbers advantage, and they don't have the fort to help defend them, either."
"Let's get some rest first, with a watch set up. Then we can start hunting down our hunters in the morning. Or trying to circle 'round the keep. Whichever we decide. Hell, we could do both."
"We couldn't do anything except get out of there. Anything else we tried would have been trash. That's going to stay true for a few days at least now. Forts get built for a reason. If they're defended by anyone short of idiots, they don't get taken without a lot of time starving them out, or overwhelming numbers."
"Being all upset about this is just hurt pride. We don't have the luxury of doing stupid things because the Stag Lord made us feel lesser than. We can do one of two sensible things. Either we clear out and give them some time to relax and get comfortable again, or we cut off the fort by stopping anyone coming or going."
"If he doesn't send out parties looking for us anyway, that might goad the Stag Lord into sending hunters out. I like our chances against them just fine in those circumstances, it plays to what we do best. But the fort itself is going to take patience unless you're all fine to having the fort at the cost of maybe half of us dead."
"There's some good news though. I did get inside the fort through the tunnel and got a little bit of a look around. I can go into that later on when there's more time, but I think if we're past the walls our chances are pretty good. Also, they didn't spot us until we were on our way back. They shouldn't know we used the tunnel I think. They might block that way, but they don't know that we know about it."
"You know why the Stag Lord wouldn't let his man take that parting shot? It wasn't exactly intimidation he wanted to show; it was confidence. He wanted us to know he doesn't need scrounge for the little advantages to come out on top against us. He's right too. He might be a drunk, but he's not a fool and he's still completely in charge."
Brental smiles a bit at Signy's rousing speech. That did make him feel better. He had been feeling (Lina's extended elven lifespan notwithstanding) like the old man in the party, supposedly wise and capable as he tried to present himself--imagine himself?--but inevitably bungling around ineffectually. With her youthful verve (she was only a few years younger, to be honest), she showed a wisdom that shut Brental right up. Damn, she had good points. All of them did. Had he lost sight of that, stuck in his own head? Probably.
"All right, then. A good, strong watch, and then guerilla warfare if they seek us out. We have Erastil's blessing for days yet. If we maintain confidence, in ourselves and each other, we may yet erode theirs."
It wasn't perfect. They were a small force against a large, organized one. Their morale might be low overall, and their forces cut down from what they were a few weeks ago, but they were certainly a force to be reckoned with in a defensible position. It was the opposite side of what they had encountered when they first arrived in these lands, defending Oleg and Svetlana's trading post from Happs.
Speaking of the trading post...
"One more element to consider. We do have other allies in these lands now. We could muster additional forces. Even if they cannot or will not fight, they could help to keep us supplied. We do not need to do this with just the five...seven of us."