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Drook rubs his eyes. "I'm not crying. It's just the ice melting." The young man attempts to salvage his dignity in front of his peers.
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"Gentlemen, a word ..."
Zephyr lowers his voice before continuing to speak to Edmund & Albert, "If you will excuse me, I will go above. I sent Fury outside not as much for their protection as to begin scouting, and as I feared, this is not actually an attack on us, but a widespread occurance: people are dying. I think we will soon find our only course of safety is to leave the city."Drook rubs his eyes. "I'm not crying. It's just the ice melting." The young man attempts to salvage his dignity in front of his peers.
Zephyr looked at Drook: "When we cry, we cherish. To cry is to kindle the Light no darkness can ever extinguish; cry with all your heart young man, love is a strength no one can take from you."
Zephyr and Fury flew towards the roof to exit high above the city.
"Its alright child" Edmund leans into Drook "A challenging event can cause even the staunchest soul to faulter momentarily" he finishes quietly.
"Gentlemen, a word ..."
Zephyr lowers his voice before continuing to speak to Edmund & Albert, "If you will excuse me, I will go above. I sent Fury outside not as much for their protection as to begin scouting, and as I feared, this is not actually an attack on us, but a widespread occurance: people are dying. I think we will soon find our only course of safety is to leave the city."
Edmund stands and approaches the meeting. "Others may well be in danger too then, we should quickly seek survivors in the attacked region." he begins before adding "I'm afraid you may be right about the urgency in leaving, the road to forge won't be easy though, especially with all our students."
Religion check
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High above the city, Zephyr and Fury can see the slowing of the frost's advance. The ebb and flow of moonergy; their best window of escape was nigh. The duo made haste to the enclave to gather the group and prepare for their exodus.
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As they are preparing to leave Edmund looks around to help gather everything the group may need on a long and dangerous trip
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Zephyr, your mind is too distracted - you wonder how many more lives have been taken by the creeping ice above. Fury, however, takes a moment to fetch an old withered seed from your bedside table, and coax it into the palm of your hand. The emotion keep this! flashes through your head.
Albert, you already have a few contingencies in place for this rough sequence of events. You carefully undo a nasty little surprise you had setup from any invisible intruders. You got it from a crazy old sylph mage obssessed with owls. You are relatively certain it works.
Now that the threat and risk of defection is gone for the moment Edmunds priority has shifted to focusing on ensuring the group is able to flee effectively. He currently has his head on a swivel looking for either threats or survivors of the initial insanity who may need help which he is hoping for but doubtful of.
You catch sight of a sylph whose feet have been frozen to the pavement. He is feebly trying to break the ice free.
Of all the younger members of your group, only Gamberino seems elated by the sudden excursion on the gray streets of Light. Among the gloomy and scared faces, he alone is ready, hand on fire bomb belt, ready to act quickly just like Master Glazier.
(the young medic-in-training had missed most of Glazier's speech, focused instead on Iris)
Edmund's acolytes watch Edmund's peculiar movements, rather than staying vigilant themselves. The ugly face of Moon fades slightly as the noonday peaklight brightens, spreading a ruddy glow over the city. It breaks the bitterness of the early northern spring somewhat, but Moon's icy influence still clings to your bones.
Albert had appreciated Zephyr's comfort to Drook. There had been no need to be embarrassed. He waited nervously as Zephyr and Fury scouted, taking the time to look over his armor with Edmund before suiting up. He didn't want to abandon Light, but it was better to lead others to safety than to rage against the dying...
Albert agrees that the safest course of action is almost certainly to leave when the moon's resonance is at its weakest. He begins packing swiftly, ensuring that all of his ingredients and reagents are safely stored. It would be no good if his urea leeched into collection of salts. He had made that mistake once as a student and nearly died. He directs his students in efficient but safe packing. No, even if they were still learning, they were colleagues now. One didn't go through something like this and retain a subordinate relationship.
On his way out, Albert snaps his fingers and remembers the trap he had set. "No need to leave this behind," he says, retrieving the wand carved with avian filigree. It smells faintly of ozone even now. He takes a moment to load the wand into the spring-loaded compartment on his right wrist, moving the dagger previously within to another location. Sometimes an overwhelming burst of celerity was precisely the thing one needed.
---
The surface awaits. At the appropriate moment, with their watches aligned, the group strides forward. Albert is quietly amused by Gamberino's fervor. Hopefully he'd keep his head on straight. With a gauntleted wrist to shield his vision, he glances up towards Moon.
Why?
That was the question wending and winding its way through his mind. He could see no sense to the incursion. No reason. There had only been time to focus on survival. And for Albert there was little reason to dwell on hypotheses with no clear testability. Leave speculation for the philosophers.
Now clinking ahead in his heavy but sleek armor, Albert strives to stay sharp. Focused. He hadn't been on the surface in days. It was odd thinking of this as The Surface, when a few days prior it was The Bright Lanes and the Western Grove and The Maze of Staves. It was still those things, he supposes, but how many outside of their group were there now to know or care?
"We should take the swiftest path to the outskirts of the city as we can," he offers. "If we get beyond the city limits, we can begin to determine how far Moon's influence spreads."
There was little good trying to gather more supplies before heading out. Celerity--in terms of swiftness--would be the need now.
"And keep your wits about you if you see other elen. Yes, we want to save people. But don't risk your own skin or those of the elens around you."
"Heads up." Edmund murmurs just loud enough to be heard by Albert and Zeph "Looks like there's a survivor over there." He continues gesturing with his head down the alley "Could be a trap and even if it isn't he probably wont be able to support his own weight, but we can't leave him. I'll head that way if one of you wants to come with. I think we should leave someone here with the heard to keep the peace." He finishes
And there it was--sooner than expected, even.
"Lead the way," he says. "Do you think it's worth preparing? Spells and gadgets and such? Or not yet?"
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"I wouldn't for now." Edward starts "Better to save the preparation for a known threat than risk wasting them on what may well be non threat." He looks over to Zeph to make sure he will keep the group in line before nodding to Al and starting over
As the pair start over to the young sylph Edmund turns to Al and says "I think I can carve out the ice around his feet but my sword isn't well suited to such a fine task, may I borrow your dagger well you try to heal the boy frost?"
After the boy yells for help as the pair approach Edmund quickly hushes him as he calls out in a low but urgent tone "Quiet now, we don't know who else might be out here, we are here to help you" After the pair get up to the boy Edmund kneels down next to him and murmurs a brief prayer to the Silver Bringer in Makers Script "Gadewch i'r llafn hwn doddi oerfel Lleuad gyda Golau'r Llosgfynydd" before he begins carving the ice away with Al's knife
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Albert nods and strides cautiously over to the trapped sylph. He moves his faceplate to the side so that it's clear he's no golem and calls out in a clear but low voice.
"Well copper ain't coal but yer plate's lookin' rusty. Name's Albert, and we're fixin to leave. We'll try to get you out without pain, but this might sting. I'm a red, though, was teaching medicine at the University before all this. What's your name, lad?"
Albert stows his falchion and withdraws a dagger to hand to Edmund. He withdraws the handy striker he had long used to get a flame going in his lab. It's old and worn out from years of use, having been refurbished numerous times. He gets a small fire going while Edmund carefully carves through the ice--just to offer a minor reprieve. He also withdraws a small bottle from his bag to hand to the boy. "Painkillers. Take two."
Finally, the old healer takes out one of his sunsilver healing contraptions and begins tinkering with it. Focusing on physical damage from cold, possibly some frostbite and nerve damage, and some potential bleeding from the removal operation. These were still more general use than programmable per se, and highly experimental, but it ought to work on the young man.
Once his feet are free from the ice, Albert catches him and lowers him to the ground, immediately taking the sun-healer to his feet.
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Edmund utters his prayer to Silver Bringer. The words hang in the air, like a bit of mist on the beginnings of a foggy morning. Slowly, the blade is sheathed in a strange white-silver energy that flows around the edges like molten steel.
Effortlessly, Edmund cuts through the ice. The task is so easy, that the warpriest (trained in war and weapons, but never surgery) goes too quickly, and scores a long gash on the boy's lower leg as he kicks free of the last of the ice. He screams in pain, but the sound is pitiful and small.
Albert is there instantly, and the wound closes as if it never was. The sylphan boy is left shaking from cold, adrenaline, and pain. He takes the offered pills, and swallows them with a sip of water.
The healing apparatuses work perfectly, and the boy is relieved of frostbite, injuries, and fatigue. Once the process is done, he is still in a daze. He looks young - younger than any of the acolytes, apprentices, and assistant physicians that are still a part of your group. Perhaps less than ten summers to the lad. He stares straight ahead.
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"Well done, me birdo," Albert compliments Edmund. There was no need to dwell on the injury, especially when it had lasted so briefly. "But the poor lad seems in a state of shock. I'll carry him."
The professor reaches towards a plate on his left arm, depressing a few buttons and spinning a knob until there is a *click* and a low hum. Celerity lights up the armor with a glow and Albert feels some of the small needles inject a solution into his body. He inhales a sharp breath through pursed lips and closes his eyes, then leans down to gently pick the dazed sylph up and slide him onto his shoulder.
Before heading back to the rest of the group, Al scans around to see if their efforts had caught any unwanted attention. But if he sees nothing (and likely even if he does), he heads back to rejoin the herd.
Albert, your small bit of fortune is to see no one else on the streets. Plenty of ice and a peppering of gruesome scenes of frozen horror, but no one else alive.
Looking beyond the streets to the city walls, you see your large bit of bad luck - towering golems patrol the perimeter. These looming metal giants stand equal in height to the Spires themselves, and seem to be covered in faceted eyes of crystal. These awful protectors seem to be covering every inch of the walls as they relentlessly circle the city.
Albert glances up in horror at the enormous sentries. He knows that there's no way to hide the reality from his group, so he doesn't try. But he does usher them into the nearest blindspot. He puts the dazed sylph in the care of someone else for the moment and then huddles in with his fellow leaders for a swift planning meeting.
"We'll need to be careful here on out," he insists. "Balancing speed and guile. Not that we weren't already, but still."
A grim look crosses his face, but he nods in determination. "I doubt we'll be able to sneak a group this size past the periopticon without notice. But if we're able to provide a distraction..."
He lets that thought linger for Edmund and Zephyr to consider.
Albert glances up in horror at the enormous sentries. He knows that there's no way to hide the reality from his group, so he doesn't try. But he does usher them into the nearest blindspot. He puts the dazed sylph in the care of someone else for the moment and then huddles in with his fellow leaders for a swift planning meeting.
"We'll need to be careful here on out," he insists. "Balancing speed and guile. Not that we weren't already, but still."
A grim look crosses his face, but he nods in determination. "I doubt we'll be able to sneak a group this size past the periopticon without notice. But if we're able to provide a distraction..."
He lets that thought linger for Edmund and Zephyr to consider.
Zeph smiles, at least partly at himself, saying, "There's a part of my ego which hopes a flying sylph and an air elemental could be a touch more than a distraction ... but if a distraction is what we need, I think we can come through. If their eyes are focused upward, I bet we can buy everyone some time. I also have to think if I summoned a little lightning we could have fun melting some metal."
Al clarifies with a return smile. "I intended distraction more euphemistically. I'd like to destroy one of the sentries. That would be very distracting. Dangerous, of course. The exact sort of thing that would draw attention away from those with less training and experience."
[ooc\zeph, roll both a knowledge religion and a lore (sky), and take the better roll[/ooc]
[ooc\zeph, roll both a knowledge religion and a lore (sky), and take the better roll[/ooc]
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It starts as a casual remark from Edmund, how there would have to be sacrifices and tradeoffs in the balancing mechanisms of such gargantuan constructs and armor. Albert grins, following with a few improvised equations relating explosive alchemical force versus lift and mass. The idea is to knock one of these hulks down using concentrated bombing in a key area around the leg joints. If successful, you will cause a disturbance, damage the walls, and hopefully have a quick escape.
Zeph, the final inspiration is yours - you can use the combined efforts of Fury and your own elemental form to fan the flames and increase the force of any fires that Albert and the other alchemists produce.
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"This should work," Albert says with a grin. "In ideal circumstances we would have more time to ensure success while mitigating more risks. But I would venture in this circumstance that the risks of waiting outweigh the risks of acting. It doesn't happen often, but this is one of those situations. We rely on our training."
Albert pulls out a piece of chalk and begins scratching out a map of the streets between them and the nearest sentry construct on the pavement to begin making decisions about who would go where. The symbols are very clearly drawn from diagrams drawn by coaches off the Caith pitch.
"It's possible I'll need to combine a few different types of bombs. Alternating applications of cold and heat at different locations could weaken the structural integrity. I also have a rapidly expanding, highly adhesive chemical that could, for lack of a better term, gum up the works."
A few more scratches of chalk. "The likely radius of destruction will be from here to here. So if our group begins exiting here, it will be the closest distance to us without risking further serious injury, further minimizing the likelihood of another sentry noticing them. We're creating a hole in their defense and sneaking our people through. If at least one of us is airborne, perhaps even all three, we'll even be able to see them to know when we've gotten them out."
Though Albert is too far in his own world of mathematics to notice Edmunds focus dropped after the second sentence as he started looking at the towering metal colossuses theorizing on their construction and murmuring to himself under his breath. a few seconds of silence pass after Albert finishes his plan outline and then Edmund quietly breathes "The right ones left leg looks to have a poor temper" a second moment passes and he turns to Al and elaborates further "I think it was cooled at too high a temperature, should be brittle and could fully lose its temper with extra heat."
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With a solid plan in mind, you approach your targets - the gates and the golem. Freedom is close, but ponderous are the lock and key.
Slick streets greet you - the smell of kerosene from some moon-addled scientist covers the once-clean grounds. The stink brings tears to your eyes, and you are forced to detour a few blocks. Sparks of celerity trail close by in the air, as other wires are spliced and repaired and cut again... but nothing has ignited yet. Everywhere you look, there are more signs of madness. More signs of a powderkeg ready to explode.
Enlightened minds always perceive reality from a different angle. The living illusion you see is not at all similar to the earlier water trick, and yet some indefinable 'signature' makes you certain this is the same spellcaster as before. Some illusionist with a warped sense of the world.
Zeph cautions you away from a strange alley. You feel as though you have stepped away from a precipice.
Struggling to not feel nauseous, Albert continues directing the pack of their followers through the intended path he had marked out in chalk when they had set out their plan.
As they approach freedom, the professor takes a few moments to prepare for the inevitable confrontation. His studies of elen physiology had allowed him to more effectively heal his fellows, but it had also driven him to develop facsimiles to take on their traits. What better way to understand someone than to become more like them?
Some of these features were built into the armor and powered by the stores of celerity that he had developed and maintained. Others were chemical augmentations derived from synthesized humors. But all helped him to become stronger, more flexible, more prepared.
As the twelfth candle rolls round, Albert pauses the group and asks Edmund to conjure fresh water in a nearby untended, empty container. Into this he drops another formula. Unlike his earlier wakefulness compound, this contained a fast-acting wine yeast that, when mixed with water, created something that tasted like decent wine in a matter of moments. Better yet, rather than dulling one's senses, it actually enhanced them. Albert hadn't been able to sell any local vintners or brewers on it, but it had proved popular enough at department functions.
Albert dips a banged-up tin mug into the container and lifts it towards the others. "We are the Remnant," he says. "We are the ones who will escape Moon's cruel embrace. We leave this day not to abandon our fellows, but to find a way to fight back. Come, drink with me as we make our stand." He lifts the mug to his lips and drinks the wine all in one go.
Not bad.
Albert turns several more knobs and flicks switches on his suit of armor as he prepares for battle. He grunts in slight pain as chemicals begin flowing through his body. His skin takes on a more weathered appearance, like an oread's, and his pupils dilate to take in vastly more information. Moving his face plate down, he activates a module designed to pick up on the unique changes in light typically associated with invisibility. One formula provides a dose of foolhardiness sure to provide him an extra edge. And finally, sheets of metal unfold from the armor's back and form into wings, to be augmented slightly by fuel sources in his arms and legs.
It makes him feel younger than his years, like he's back on the Pitch. Although his mind swims as though through a riptide, his processing power is vastly increased. His eyes flit back and forth as he waits for the appropriate moment to make their move. When he sees it, he takes to the air.
Edmund approaches with the group finding a nearby pot to create the water for Al from which he drinks deep.
As they get closer in to the towering figures Ed sets his mind to looking for weak spots in their carapaces
He leans in to Al and points to a small section of one of the colossi that has a discoloration in its brass. "There, do you see that lighter spot, that's where the temper will be weakest. try to maximize the heat going to that point." He murmurs out quickly.
Albert's part of the crew are all old enough to have survived some hand-on medical training - young adults, nurses and field doctors one and all. They are all steady and ready as their professor makes his preparations for battle.
Edmund's flock tend to the younger side - the faithful and those learning the ways of hammer and forge need guidance from an early age, and though the warpriest is more familiar with the finer points of armorcraft than the emotional nuances of leadership, he sees the need in the wide-eyed faces of the boys and girls who have been tending his workshop and lighting his altar.
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Albert's part of the crew are all old enough to have survived some hand-on medical training - young adults, nurses and field doctors one and all. They are all steady and ready as their professor makes his preparations for battle.
Edmund's flock tend to the younger side - the faithful and those learning the ways of hammer and forge need guidance from an early age, and though the warpriest is more familiar with the finer points of armorcraft than the emotional nuances of leadership, he sees the need in the wide-eyed faces of the boys and girls who have been tending his workshop and lighting his altar.
"Children of the Sky, it is time. Pray now to the Father & Mother who represent our power ... and then I will call them to me."
Pol, easily the most devout of the youth, gasped outloud. The gangly little sylph was almost always the first to prayer in the mornings, but couldn't believe what he was hearing.
Ciela, the know-it-all of Zeph's acolytes, piped up. Ever was she heard to say, drawing in great breth ... "I read about it! They knew at least that much was coming. "Our master will draw in the divine energy of the Fallen Sky to reshape himself in its image. When I grow up, I will do this also. I will do it first ..."
Natann, who might well grow to be as smart as Albert, spoke up, "Master! You will transform!? You'll become the Air? Like Fury? Zeph smiled at the boy, who was really quite sturdy for their kind, "You know that it is more complicated than that my friend, and you know that we give thanks because our race is divine ... but yes, I will reshape myself as an air elemental, quite a bit bigger than Fury to be honest. Together we will create a wind to fan the flames. Embrace the sky now young ones, and behold!"
With Zeph and Albert taking to the air, the rest of your ragtag group readies themselves -
A shimmering in the air in front of you like a hot summer's day, and from that small tear strolls forth an inquisitor of Moon. He wears a smug smile between pointed goatee and thick-framed glasses. His skin has a sallow, waxen cast, neither sylphan, orean, fritan, nor undan. Draping his wasted frame, his greasy yellow robes are covered with smiling white crescents.
"And where do you think you are going?" He asks this in an amused tone.
Not invisible? And not merely hiding. There had to be more to what this mad inquisitor had done to get ahead of them like this, following all of their precautions.
"I think many things, but I know that we're leaving this city," Albert counters as he flaps his metallic wings to a momentary stop, letting celerity course through his armor to hover in place.
"Knowing can be rather complicated, don't you agree? Do you know the future, Mr. Metal El?"
Without awaiting an answer, the inquisitor continues in pedantic tones. "Laughter is the blessing of Moon, but His cold eye curses His enemies with tears, do you see?"
"Volc that!" Young master Gamberino hurls a fire bomb at the inquisitor, eagerness showing in his wobbly throw. Inquisitor Ky La does not even attempt to dodge, and the canister hits him full-on. A burst of flames is met by eye-rolling disdain. He continues chanting in a halting, discordant tongue.
Summoning attached to an alarm spell. Without an inherent way to detect magic most of the time, Albert would need to rely on someone else--probably Edmund--to watch out for that sort of thing in the future. At least this inquisitor didn't know his identity. Yet.
Then a missile streaks past from the ground. Albert doesn't even have to turn around to recognize the voice and know that it was Albert. Eager child.
"I create the future I wish to see," Albert responds. "To know is to manifest such creation through sheer force of Will--the Will that Moon seeks to subvert. The Will that the people of Light have always used. Let me show you!"
Albert thrusts his left fist straight out, using his right to rotate a wrist plate and steady the arm. Even if the inquisitor was stacked with protection spells, he couldn't have prepared for every eventuality. The professor takes a breath to steady himself and sends a bomb of his own rocketing towards the inquisitor.
A creature that takes a direct hit from a tanglefoot bomb must save against the bomb’s DC or be entangled and glued to the floor as if it had failed its save against a tanglefoot bag. Creatures in the splash area that fail their saves are entangled but not glued to the floor; those who make this save are not entangled at all.
An entangled creature takes a –2 penalty on attack rolls and a –4 penalty to Dexterity and must make a DC 17 Reflex save or be glued to the floor, unable to move. Even on a successful save, it can move only at half speed.
Huge or larger creatures are unaffected by a tanglefoot bag.A flying creature is not stuck to the floor, but it must make a DC 17 Reflex save or be unable to fly (assuming it uses its wings to fly) and fall to the ground.A tanglefoot bag does not function underwater.A creature that is glued to the floor (or unable to fly) can break free by making a DC 17 Strength check or by dealing 15 points of damage to the goo with a slashing weapon. A creature trying to scrape goo off itself, or another creature assisting, does not need to make an attack roll; hitting the goo is automatic, after which the creature that hit makes a damage roll to see how much of the goo was scraped off. Once free, the creature can move (including flying) at half speed. If the entangled creature attempts to cast a spell, it must make a concentration check with a DC of 15 + the spell’s level or be unable to cast the spell. The goo becomes brittle and fragile after rounds, cracking apart and losing its effectiveness. An application of universal solvent to a stuck creature dissolves the alchemical goo immediately.
Edmund shouts looking about the group and gesturing past the gates "Proving a paint isn't worth your lives!" He finishes as Al bursts into action. Edmund then will mutter a prayer quickly as if by habit "Boed i'm henaid ddwyn darn o'th ogoniant"
He then charges towards the inquisitor as close as he can get on the ground to try and distract him.