Search Posts
Grevayne raises his eyebrows. "Ah... yes. That would be very helpful. Thank you." He gives her an appraising glance. That's a lot of incredibly useful magic to throw out so casually.
After his morning preparations, Grevayne gathers the Chernesardo in the common room of the inn. "Okay. We have the falsified documents. Now we just need to disseminate them among the hobgoblin war camps. I have some invisibility magic, but only a few castings. It is going to make things tricky. Above all else, the hobs cannot know they have been infiltrated or the ruse is lost. If any of you have suggestions, I am all ears."
Grevayne feels an itch at the back of his mind, the slow formulation of a thought that has not yet come to fruition, but is strong enough to nudge him toward a decision. "No," he says after a brief pause. "I will go with the rangers to see this done. I have invisibility magic, and I am trained a bit in skullduggery after my time with Freyja. I will see to it that this task is completed without the rangers' involvement being known. Katia, you stay behind and help with the defenses. You are the only one of us trained in structural engineering, and those walls are in bad shape. Do what you can to see them built back up. Catie, slight alteration in plans. You finish the alchemical traps I have been setting up. I am sure you have seen them around, and can figure them out. Freyja, Aubrin, Sergeant, you all keep to your task of finishing making sure Longshadow is ready for the coming storm." He turns to Crawbert. "Is there anything else, Mayor? Otherwise, we should all get what sleep we can for tomorrow. I will let the Chernesardo know of our plan."
Grevayne shakes his head. "Do not blame yourself. We did not see it either, and we had experience with shapeshifters in the Legion's ranks before this. We should have known that barghest would not be the last." He drops down into a chair with a relieved sigh. Scouring the city was not easy work. "I do not think I missed a single inch of this city. I have scoured it twice now for further sabotage and found nothing. I am as certain as I can be that their meddling is done."
Grevayne nods. "The guard should be here any moment. I will wait for them, explain the situation. You all have your tasks. Good luck."
Grevayne feels oddly weary after the fight. He didn't even use that much magic, but he feels as if he's been awake for days. "Gods, I am an idiot. I did not even think of sabotage, even after we found a gods-damned saboteur! I thought that would be the end of it." He rubs his mouth fretfully with his good hand. "I do not wish to sit on this. We need to look at that warehouse, make sure nothing is amiss. But we also need to let the mayor know what has occurred." He looks up at the others. "Sergeant, Freyja, take Catie and Katia to the warehouse and look around. Keep a sharp eye for more sabotage, possibly even traps. Aubrin, go wake the mayor and let him know what has occurred. I will alert the guard and do another sweep of the streets to make sure I did not miss anything today." He shakes his head and spits irritably. "Damn spies..."
Grevayne walks up to the pile of meat on the ground and finishes it off.
Grevayne twitches the fingers with silver rings laced into the handwraps and considers the regenerating bugbears. Nobody seems to have silver, so he supposes it's up to him. He attempts to juke past 'Garret' and get to Malga to deliver a final blow, hoping the silver in his rings is enough to do the trick.
Once up to Malga's unconscious meat pile, he slams down into it with his good fist.
They are winning, Yang, a small, mocking voice says in the back of his head. For some reason, the old adage "haste makes waste" pops into his head, and he chuckles. He unleashes a spell before sending his one good fist on a wild rampage.
Grevayne pushes kinetic magic into his good fist, and it ripples with violent amounts of potential energy.
rushes at "Seneka" and drives a fist coated in sickly green energy at the creature's gullet.
Doppelgangers. Great. "Well, that explains the ease of your infiltration. Too bad you are not as tough as you are sleazy." He glances behind him and calls, "Nightmare creatures! Good or silver! Every time, or they'll regenerate their wounds!"
Grevayne finds their nervousness odd, but he's no people person. He shrugs. "They went well enough. With a little luck, we may have this town fully prepared for the siege. Goodnight." He hurries past, slightly unsettled by what feels like entirely forced behavior but unable to tell if it's just nerves on their part or if they're hiding something. But really, he isn't really in the mood for conversation anyway.
Grevayne shrugs. "As you wish." He turns and addresses the others. "We have our tasks, then. Walls, defenses, readiness. I am off to bed to prepare. Good night." Without another word, he leaves the ready room and heads for the inn.
Grevayne chews thoughtfully on a piece of bread while everyone talks it over, then chimes in, "We have trained about everyone we can, padded their numbers best we can. The walls are still not in great shape. I would be more comfortable if they were farther along. Katia, you mentioned some skill in engineering, yes?" At the young woman's nod, he says, "Good. Take to the walls tomorrow. I will finish my alchemical preparations. Catie, you, Aubrin, and Freyja see to the town's general readiness. Triage stations are a good idea, there will be a lot of wounded no matter how well we prepare. And see to our food and water stores, in case it is a protracted siege." He turns to Sarge. "You, erm..." He shrugs. "Take some rest? I do not think I have anything else for you at the moment. You did well finishing out our reinforcements. Thank you."
Grevayne takes a deep breath. "Okay, yes. Take your own walkabout, see where you can help get the town ready for what is to come." He addresses the group now. "You have your tasks. Good luck."
Once everyone is off to their tasks, Grevayne takes his leave of the mayor and Elise. "I will make certain there are no more nasty surprises waiting for us." With that, he heads into town, splitting it into grid sections in his head, to search each section methodically for further interference.
Grevayne opens his mouth to argue, but snaps it shut again. That is, admittedly, pretty damn impressive. "Fine. Just do not blow us up." He turns to the tiefling. "What about you?"
Grevayne frowns. "I do not think that is the best idea. I have very specific concoctions made, and many of them are purposefully unstable. If you made a mistake, it could cause some serious damage to the town, and the hobs will be doing enough of that for everyone in a few days."
Grevayne rubs his chin. "I will take a walk around town. My alchemical defenses are coming along nicely, and I would like to make sure no other sabotage has taken place. Sergeant, continue trying to gather recruits. Do try not to belittle them this time." He ignores Sarge's scowl and turns to Aubrin and Freyja. "Keep training that militia. We need as many bows facing the skies as we can. There is no guarantee we will have an opportunity to take out their sky terrors before the siege begins." He turns to Katia and her... physician? "What sort of training do you two have, aside from medicine and witchery?"
Grevayne looks surprisingly refreshed. He actually slept through the night for the first time in ages. Having a plan isn't something he's used to. Of course, it's not the plan for what lies directly ahead of them, but it's good to have it, nonetheless. "I think the first order of business is sorting out exactly what damage the infiltrator caused. We lost an entire batch of potential recruits because of him, and that explosion did a serious number to what we have built so far, but is that the extent of it? I feel like we should make sure, and do something to undo the damage to morale, if possible. The arrival of the Chernasardo helps, but I do not know if it will be enough. Any thoughts?"
Grevayne watches the others eat, though his own appetite isn't really present. He settles for a small hunk of cold chicken and a dinner roll, politely refusing anything else. He watches the people mingle and interact, watches the young witch hunkered in deep conversation with Freyja, watches the tiefling sit to the side with a few of the Chernesardos, watches Sarge make steady rounds, a flagon in hand, making polite conversation with each of the rangers, probably learning all their names. Vargus is about as abrasive as an acid-soaked metal scrub pad, but he seems to be good at what he does. He's heard plenty of stories about Katia from Freyja. He trusts the ranger's judgment implicitly, and if she says the witch is a badass, then she's a badass. Chiba's a tougher quandary. The Oni-spawn looks like she could dismantle a wagon with her bare hands if she set her mind to it, and has just enough underlying stress that she just might do that, in the near future. He doesn't like that--he knows what kind of self-harm can come from uncontrolled rage. And harm to others, he thinks miserably. He quashes the thought and considers the silver-haired woman again. He doesn't know much about alchemists, but rumors abounded in Xa Hoi about alchemists who could cause gouts of flame so intense as to sunder stone. If even half the rumors were true, she'll be a beast on the battlefield. Yeah, he thinks, setting his plate down and slipping quietly upstairs, they'll be okay. He shuts his door behind him and slips into bed; he's got a big day tomorrow.
Even Grevayne, who is normally the last person to pick up on social cues, feels the tension. "Right. Uh. Maybe we should all move inside the walls, find some lodging for the Chernesardo?" He looks to the mayor, hoping he'll intervene before these two ladies murder each other with embarrassment.
Grevayne is used to weird looks. He's used to people crossing the street so as not to walk past him. He's used to scowls and conversations ceasing when he draws near. Hells, he's even used to stones and curses. He is in no way prepared for a young woman barraging him with questions, especially very pointed questions about his unusual ancestry. She was able to intuit things about him that he has only told a select few people. His eyes reflexively narrow at the witch. "It... it is fine. Just... not a subject I prefer to speak on. Perhaps at a later date."
Grevayne blinks. "Wh--I--uh. Yes. Most people cannot tell just from looking at me. I mean--they know I am dhampir, but not that I am ru-shi."
Grevayne moves up to the young woman he'd only seen in coma before now, and is immediately struck by how... haunted she looks. It could be that she's just still recovering from her invalid state, but her eyes look sunken and desperate, and are definitely wet with tears--though he supposes that, at least, is to be expected. Freyja has spoken of her often, and they seemed to be close. For some reason, his half-withered hand against his chest feels like a beacon, brightly-lit and drawing all eyes to it. He starts to try and hide it behind him, but stops halfway, feeling foolish, letting it droop at his side at a weird angle. He doesn't really blush like humans do, but nonetheless the shame is plain on his face. Great first impression. You look like a freak. He coughs, suddenly deeply uncomfortable. "Miss Karela. Pleasure to finally meet you in the waking world."
Grevayne claps Crawbert on the shoulder. "Ask, and you shall receive, I should say! Let us go and greet them."
Grevayne frowns. "This is the first I have heard of this. What happened?" After Sarge gives him a summary of the day's events, Grevayne turns to Crawbert. "I suspect this impostor had something to do with this, as well, sowing doubt among the people. Of course," he adds with a severe glance at Vargus, "belittling them is not the appropriate course of action." He shakes his head and turns back to the mayor. "Still, it does not bode well. Any thoughts on how we can undo the morale damage?"
Grevayne snorts. "Spies," he grumbles, making clear he's using the word as a pejorative. He turns to Crawbert. "I doubt we will get anything truly useful from him, but just in case, do you have a dungeon or prison we can throw him in? We should keep him under heavy surveillance, just in case. Could be a shapeshifter or spellcaster. Unless you just want to slit his throat and toss him over the walls. Maybe put his head on a pike, as a warning to the Legion." He pauses and frowns. "That reminds me..." He mutters an incantation and scans the impostor with his magical senses, looking for spells.
After he's done, he nods at Sarge. "Check him." He alerts Sarge to any magic auras he detected.
Grevayne gives Zane a steely stare. "Out of curiosity, Solomon, why is it, as a cleric, you have not healed your own wound? Surely there are not so many injured in the city just yet that you did not have a cure spell to spare on your arm. That looks... extensive." He keeps his posture relaxed, but his shoulders and calves tense, ready to spring if the cleric tries to run or lash out.
Grevayne, who had mostly been lost in thought during the heated exchange, turns in mild surprise toward Solomon. "Hm? Arm? What about his arm?"
Grevayne purses his lips thoughtfully and mutters, "Kusana. Blood hag." He nods. "Thank you." He strides out without saying another word.
Grevayne flinches slightly at Sarge's response. He'd probably been too harsh. But at least the old man got the message. Ha. "Old." You're probably older than him by a couple years. Of course, that isn't middle age for him. He's already outlived Wu. Who else will he outlive? The thought makes him both morose and dour as he returns his gaze to Navah, awaiting answers.
Grevayne turns a withering glance at the sergeant. Its message is painfully clear: butt out.
Grevayne realizes he's been clenching his jaw, and reluctantly unclenches it. He tries to keep his voice steady. "No one deserves to be imprisoned on a path they did not choose. You had every right to fight back. So far as I am concerned, Mac's death lies on the shoulders of your mother, not you." He isn't sure he entirely believes it--his grief wants to settle the blame on someone close, someone he can lash out at--but he knows it's true. Or, at least, mostly true. She probably shouldn't have had so damn many dangerous creatures in one place, regardless. He regards Navah with a steely gaze. "The hag. What is her name and kind? And did she mention a coven?"
Grevayne nods. "We are. There are still many preparations to be done, and besides, I am very curious what happened in that tower. Whatever it was, it cost our friend his life." He rests his chin on his hand, allowing melancholy to sink in for a moment. But only a moment. There is still too much to do before the town is safe. "Sarge, keep at those recruits coming for now. Aubrin, take Freyja and see to the townfolk's general readiness. Blankets, food, weaponry, you know the drill. Pay particular attention to medical supplies--there will be a lot of wounded regardless of how well this goes for us. I..." He sighs. There is literally only one job for him. "I will continue making little surprises for our incoming guests."
Grevayne sips an herbal tea, resting his deformed hand on the table as he lets his meal settle in his stomach. The city's larders are full; he'll have to find a new task for Aubrin and Freyja tomorrow. Thankfully he has yet to run out of places to put alchemical traps around town, or he'd be sitting here twiddling his thumbs and feeling useless. Tomorrow will bring what it may. Perhaps Aubrin and Freyja can continue running drills with the militia while Sarge trains up the new recruits. "For the first time in recent memory, I actually feel tired enough to sleep at a normal hour. I will see you all in the morning." He takes a last swig of his tea, then gives Freyja's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before nodding to the sergeant and heading upstairs. He gives an awkward smile to Gestelle. Say something, stupid. He doesn't, of course. He simply gives her an even more awkward wave, then heads up to bed. He's too exhausted for conversation, anyway.
Grevayne nods, shakes the mayor's hand, and gets to work.
Grevayne nods. "Good. You see to training up some more fighters for the siege. Aubrin, if you could see to getting the townsfolk ready, that would be lovely." He scowls. "I will continue doing the only thing I am good at, apparently."
He listens to Sarge as he relays the information, then sighs and stares off into the middle distance. "If even the Molthunis were hesitant to unleash such creatures, that is of great concern to me. It sounds like this Kosseruk intends to deploy them in the same manner as the catapults--or perhaps something more insidious. Imagine living siege towers." He shudders at the thought. "But the town needs our help preparing more than anything. If it comes time and we have a day to spare, we will have to choose between the warbeasts and the flyers. For now, let us focus on Longshadow." With Mac gone, he ponders how best to distribute the group. "Freyja, you will have to take the place of Mac seeing to the provisions. Sergeant, I assume you have experience training soldiers?"
Grevayne purses his lips. "The town defenses, definitely. We should continue preparing Longshadow for attack. If we reach the last day or two and we are satisfied with our progress on those defenses, we should look into taking out the wyvern scouts. Aerial attackers will be able to bypass our walls with relative ease, which I do not like."
Grevayne dusts his hands off and idly slaps a small lick of flame off his pant leg as ash and bits of flaming debris float down. "The Legion was sure to see that. We need to get out of here quickly and head back to Longshadow. I do not know if we will be able to assist in building their defenses today, but we should try." He leads the party back to their horses and begins the trip back to town.
"Ah! Perfect." He loads up the charges carefully into Freyja's handy haversack before turning to face the rest of the room's contents. "Let us take what we can carry, and destroy the rest. No sense leaving them any weapons to use whatsoever."
Once he's taken a good chunk of the items, he motions for the others to step far back. "This might be, erm... ostentatious. Best to keep your distance." Once everyone is far enough back, he takes several steps away from the doorway, mutters an incantation, and fires a trio of white-hot rays of flame into the building, targeting the alchemist's fires.
Grevayne frowns and rubs his chin. "These pose a serious problem. We could use them in the town's defenses, but they are far too volatile to carry. If we had a padded wagon, that would be something. Or a bag of holding." He sighs and shrugs. "We may just have to use them to destroy the lot, which we will need to do either way."
"That was bracing," Grevayne mutters. "Let us see what we can find of use." He goes to do what he'd originally intended to do, which is cast detect magic across the room.
Grevayne growls and swings out twice with his newly-empowered fist.
Of course one of his few remaining spells is electrical in nature. "Mihstu," he calls. "Something has it riled up. Avoid electricity, but if you have any frost magic, now is the time for it!" Grevayne waves his good hand in an incantation, and a subtle field of warped fate surrounds him. He then steps up to the creature. He calls on the last of his specialized pool of arcane energy to infuse his fists with power.
Grevayne moves up cautiously to the well and looks it over curiously, sweeping his detect magic spell over the building as he moves.
"The arrows are an odd choice," Grevayne mutters. "Perhaps they know something we do not? Freyja, best take these just in case." He hands the magic arrows to Freyja and briefly explains what they do. "We will take the rest of this with us on our way back. We have wiped out their alchemical supplies, but it could not hurt to take some of their armaments as well. Perhaps the militia can use these."
Once that's been taken care of, he moves to the final building, then gives Sarge the nod once everyone has gathered.
Once Sarge has been tended to, Grevayne stows the alchemical equipment and moves back outside. "That is one building down. Looks like... two more to go? Let us take care of the small one first." He moves outside, then south across the small bridge, and up to the door of the small building south of the alchemy lab. He quickly sweeps his magical senses over the door, though he doubts he'll find anything--but no sense in not taking precautions.
Grevayne takes a few moments to catch his breath before turning to Freyja. "You were right to urge us to return last night. This fight could have been the death of one of us. Let us look around and see if there is anything useful before moving on." Despite his recent bout of nausea and his ineffectualness during the fight, Grevayne feels invigorated. He even has ideas for a couple new spells. He makes a mental note to jot them down in his spellbook tonight before bed. He moves to the east and checks out the alchemical equipment for anything of use.
Grevayne sends a pair of awkward swings at the golem.
|