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"I could ask around, see if any old friends are in town." Cal said, swinging down from Hester to lead her up to the gates and give the old girl a rest. "Best bet would be to simply ask at the gate. We've got the gear from those saboteurs and some of it should corroborate our tale. They were operating with stealth but not discretion, I'll bet they had some infamy attached."
Cal slung Mathilda back over his shoulder, "That's one less thing to worry about."
Cal thumps another bolt into one of the blinded boars before snapping off a second as a seeming afterthought.
Cal racks another shot and buries it in the side of the charging boar as it tries to gore Kyriel.
"Boars like that ain't from around here. Could have been released by our new friends to wreak havoc. Regardless, as long as we're careful they shouldn't be much of a problem."
"We should pick them off. They aren't native to the area, could cause problems," he shouldered Mathilda and worked the lever to settle a bolt. "Once we have their ire, they'll be persistent. Should be good eating though," he says with a wry look to Nukilik, "Unless we end up with our intestines tangled in their tusks like that one king."
Sounds solid to me, it's what I get for playing a human.
"A hard ride can do more harm than good, especially if those horses aren't used to being pushed like that. We should stop for the night," Cal agreed.
Cal ties Selino's bindings to Hester's saddle, clearly intending to keep the unfortunate assassin in his less than kind care. He manhandles the poor sap roughly throughout the process and cheerfully chatters away about how there always seems to be unfortunate accidents on the road, how long it took him to heal after he was dragged behind a spooked horse when he was younger, and how horses seem to spook at the darnedest things. The pace he sets is always just outside of Selino's comfortable walking speed. Around Selino, Cal seems heedless of the misery inflicted by the actions of the saboteurs, playing up the role of jaded and callous mercenary. Around his erstwhile companions, though, much of his good humor is gone and his expletives seem to involve blasphemy of one kind or another at this point. Grouchiness aside, Cal seems markedly invested in seeing the civilians to safety and making a report to those in a position to handle the situation but refuses to plan much beyond that.
Yeah, I'm sticking to Mathilda and actually ditched my armor this level as my monk AC is better at this point. Between Mathilda and the Masterwork gastraphetes strapped to Hester, I've got all my weapon concerns covered for the immediate future. The Cracked Dusty Rose Prism Ioun Stone would be a nice toy for Kyriel or I since we are a pair of initiative monkeys.
Cal is leveled
"Mitra is stingy with His holy light. Most priests are all sermon, no intercession," Cal said coming back, a note of clear bitterness in his voice. The saboteurs had done a thorough job and coming back to some of his least favorite kind of talk clearly did not improve his mood. "Leave the bodies but check the rooms."
Going to pester with questions here for the sake of speed and cleanliness. Would I be able to meaningfully damage the bridge with fire?
"We run. Nukilik, you and Kyriel head back to town and get the townspeople out of there. Make sure Hester is saddled and ready for me. Karl, we need to make this place look as lively as we can. If they think the sabotage failed, they'll waste time trying to siege an empty fort and the civilians will be free to escape." In the space of a few seconds, Cal's person changed sharply. Gone was the inveterate rogue and in his place stood, of all things, a soldier.
Cal leans against the gap, hitting the release on the wooden case under Mathilda and letting it hit the floor. Pulling a fresh clip from a low slung messenger satchel, he slaps it home and checks over the mechanisms quickly. A misaligned bolt could be disastrous for him.
"Do us all a favor and cease the screeching," Cal called down as though he were dealing with a noisy neighbor. Almost as an afterthought, he turned Mathilda on the unfortunate sap.
"Look mate, if I ever wanted to taste 'the Might' of someone I already know plenty of accommodating ladies and a few lads as well. They charge very reasonable rates and look better in leather," Cal shouted from his perch after fetching the priest a glancing shot from Mathilda.
If motives are sensed: Cal is definitely not talking about a religious experience. Well... at least not one Mitra would approve of
"Nah!" Cal shouted out the window, "Got a report of some dogs gone rabid. Figured we'd do the civic thing and put them down." He hated guys like that. 'Knights' and their ilk were a waste of meat.
He took careful aim this time and snapped off a shot from Mathilda, treating the sword wielding sociopath to a taste of his capricious lady's scorn. "Hey Karl! I changed my mind! It'd be more amusing to watch you beat Captain Overcompensation there to death with your fists."
"They're set to ruin this place as much as kill the soldiers. They hit the forge and the officers already. What would be the biggest and most time consuming asset to hit here? They'd probably be saving it for when they don't have to worry about the noise and all the easier stuff is out of the way," Cal said, taking the pragmatic view once again.
Cal moves to cover Karl with Mathilda, the monstrous crossbow primed with a fresh magazine of bolts loaded.
Cal carefully climbs up the ladder and listens at the trap door for a moment.
Doubtlessly failing to notice a thing, he proceeds to push the trap door open and climb out.
"I call dibs on the knight, by the way," Cal said as they jogged along, "Something satisfying about sticking guys who're proud of their armor and sword full of bolts." There was some worrying glee in his voice about the prospect of facing off against the three remaining villains still lurking about.
Ah! Wonderful! Our party of not-paladins can descend into the secret passage to casually terrify the rest of this conspiracy with the fact that we are willing to lower ourselves to unconscionable tactics like threats and lying. I'm tempted to pop over to the paladin game and see how they handled the uncooperative prisoner.
Hah! You all took to that surprisingly well. Good thing I'm not stuck with a bunch of Paladins.
Let's see Knives McGree squirm a bit
"I am all in favor of following through with my threat," Cal said, hefting Mathilda again leveling her at the assassin's groin. "I like leaving a precedent for others who might consider trying to knife me."
The tension in the area suddenly ramps up as Cal seems about ready to pull the trigger and forever remove the possibility of Selino ever fathering a passel of little assassins unless he speaks up. There is a terrible sense of certainty in his stance that he could at least maim the poor fellow before anyone could step in to save the man's meat and two veg from being kebabed. It occurs to the gathered company that, apart from a name that may be fake, they really do not know all that much about Cal. That would be the danger of trusting random strangers you find in taverns. Would they be able to keep him from making good on his threats? Was this merely another ploy? Was he actually even more of a dangerous sociopath than the man they had tied up on the ground before them?
Cal sniffed, unimpressed, and fired Mathilda again with the casual ease of scratching an itch. The bolt planted itself right between the prisoner's legs. It took very little imagination to guess at where he would aim next. "You don't get it boy, I've seen behind that curtain too," he chambered another bolt, "You're a joke, your cause is a joke, and right now all you're doing is setting yourself up to be ground under my boot in a painful fashion. Start talking or make peace with a slow and humiliating death."
Cal met Karl's gaze and rolled his eyes as the assassin proceeded to be snarky. Without warning, he spun and fired. The bolt thudded into the ground about two feet in front of the tied up man. Cal worked the action of his crossbow again with deliberate motions. "I get it brother, you're a hard man. Probably had to knife orphans or something to survive where ever you grew up. Someone comes along and gives you something big to aim for, make all these happy saps pay and suffer like you have. Make your worthless life mean something. Shake the Pillars of Heaven with your deeds," he idly rested Mathilda across his shoulders. "Thing is, I'm probably closer to you than to these guys. I got my look behind the curtain, 'cept I didn't decide it was license to go about knifing people who don't deserve it. You see, a nice cosy cell in Branderscar is what happens if we like you. I don't take kindly to being stuck by self-satisfied little dagger-boys so you have two more chances to be useful before I put a bolt somewhere non-lethal and drag you around behind my horse until your screams bring your friends out."
Cal was busy checking over the half healed wound in his side while the others tried to pry information out of the prisoner. It had been a nasty number and when he hocked up a loogie and spat it into the dirt, there was blood and some chunky red bits he did not want to think too much about mixed into it. He did the sums in his head and did not like the shape of things as they stood. He checked Mathilda's magazine, three bolts still loaded. The lever action made a very satisfying sound as he clapped the magazine home and chambered a bolt. "Gents, may I?" He asked idly
I'm a wonderful liar
Just realized I never got my campaign trait
Cal gave a theatric sigh as the others gathered around the prisoner. He was waiting for the inevitable sharp retort or half mad rambling and waited his turn. This crew did not exactly strike him as choirboys but he doubted any of them had the mean bones needed to really dig into the sort of soul that liked to knife complete strangers. Still they did a treat on his wound so there was an upside to having them around.
"Oh no you don't, my stabby friend," Cal declares, rushing to get a clear firing line on the would-be assassin and firing off another bolt.
"Oi! Finish what you started!" Cal shouted as the would be assassin turned his blades on the good natured half-orc. He stepped in to make room for Kyriel and drove a fist at the foe before trying to fix him with a nasty backhand.
Modified everything by hand.
Looks like the midnight ride of Cal Revere may be over before it starts. If he survives this tet-a-tet, it will be one of the last times he does not go first.
It was all Cal could do to wheeze out a line of expletives fit to make Father Holbrook's eyes cross as the kukri slipped up under his ribs and proceeded to do something horrible to him. Stumbling back, he returned the favor and snapped off a shot from Mathilda, reflexively working the lever to load another bolt into place.
"No, but I'll make them listen if I have to. Give me one of those vials and Father Holbrook, can you write me a missive? Even if they don't listen to me, they'll have to respect your word," if they caught him on the road, he would have to think fast to survive, plans were already forming in his mind. "I'll either be jailed, or close to the head honcho there, so look for me there."
"Except that they may come after me," Cal said under his breath. "Let's get moving before my good sense kicks in and I skip town," he grumbled louder.
"Look, I can ride ahead on Hester with word. It's a risk but I'd rather not see this area fall into anarchy but Karl's right. That won't stop them from killing anyone else. We need to stall out their plans here first."
Cal keeps a few steps back, scanning the surroundings and checking for any signs that might indicate the door was forced. If he were running the murder show, he would not keep to a specific script, especially one that was left behind for the nosy locals to discover. |
