Something Firen

Run by: Masq Timor

PCs: Amon Lazaros

 

-= OOC =- Masq Timor can set the scene, if you'd like :)

-= OOC =- Amon Lazaros says, "I'd like to know what the scene is about first."

-= OOC =- Masq Timor says, "A fair point!"

-= OOC =- Masq Timor says, "Some Trakar villagers were reporting bandit raids in the region. Given that this is now an Imperial Protectorate, that sort of thing can't go unanswered."

-= OOC =- Masq Timor says, "Plus, some of them looked like they were dressed in Firen uniforms."

-= OOC =- Masq Timor says, "Anything else ya'd like to know? :)"

-= OOC =- Amon Lazaros says, "Firen? Um... aren't they allies of Zuriel?"

-= OOC =- Masq Timor says, "Indeed!"

-= OOC =- Masq Timor says, "Mystery!"

-= OOC =- Masq Timor says, "Thrills!"

-= OOC =- Masq Timor says, "Chills!"

-= OOC =- Masq Timor says, "Ready? :)"

-= OOC =- Amon Lazaros nods.

-= OOC =- Amon Lazaros says, "Also, will I need to bring my troops?"

-= OOC =- Masq Timor yeps. :)

-= OOC =- Amon Lazaros nods, "250 light cavalry armed with exceptional equipment."

-= OOC =- Masq Timor nods.

 

The sun's starting to turn westward, floating red and bloody as you begin your approach to the village of Four Dogs, situated on the deep river that seperates it from Filen. Smoke rises from the village, thick and black and oily, dancing in the sky.

 

    Winglord Amon Lazaros rides with his wing of light cavalry towards the disturbance. He is at the head of the pack, plasma tongue repeater out and keeping a keen eye out for anything odd and unusual. Turning to his second-in-command he says, "Remember, if its a raid, take them alive so we can interrogate them. If its a riot... silence them."

 

As you draw closer to the village, you can see the smoke is coming from several houses, the flames pale red streaks against the setting sun. The waters of the river are shimmering bloodily- even at this distance, you can see one of the narrow riverships of the Filen army, sailing away. There's an eerie silence, broken only by the thunder of your hooves. The wind shifts, and carries the smell of smoke and blood and chared flesh towards you.

 

    Amon Lazaros rides towards the ship and bellows out, "Talonlord, take scales three, five and nine to the village and help put it out. If there's any trouble, don't engage, ride back and report to me. The rest of you, with me!" The talonlord salutes and soon three scales are riding towards the village, on his part, Amon Lazaros produces a map of the lands and traces the river to the next outpost of the Realm. He begins casting a spell: Infallible Messenger. "This is Winglord Amon Lazaros of the Phoenix Wing. Deploy river nets and ships to catch unauthorized river ship class three. Ship in question may have burned down a village. In pursuit now, but may not be able to stop it. Will do what we can. Three scales have been sent to the village to help with the fire. Please advise." The cherub salutes and speeds off to deliver the message instantly and as he rides, Lazaros awaits the response.

 

As you draw closer to the ships, you can see men in Filen uniforms, walking about the deck. Several are laughing, some are pointing back at the village. Many still have bows or spears. As you start to draw closer, however, their attitude rapidly shifts; some brief shouting, gesturing, and the ship starts to turn. Not a craft made for steering, it's not a swift process, and the figures seem oddly out of their element; one even stumbles over.

One of your riders comes back, pale and slightly winded from a hard ride. He's from the Third Scale, and gives you a quick salute. "Sir- the village. It's been destroyed. There was only one survivor." A soldier who's seen battle, he still looks a little ill. "It was like a butcher's shop..."

 

    Amon can see and hear the men, that means they're within range! A smile crosses his face and he screams, "Men, produce bows and notch fire arrows: scale ten aim for the rudder, scale one and two aim for the hull, the rest of you aim for the sails!" He produces his fuel bolt launcher and kisses it, "Come on, Madeline, show them what you're made of." He activates Mother Disobeys Father and aims for the mast. He hopes this will work to cripple the craft.

 

-= OOC =- Masq Timor says, "Make your appropriate roll with a +1 stunt bonus."

(Judge) Amon Lazaros rolls Dexterity + Martial arts + 3 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1: [ -1- -1- 2 3 4 4 4 5 5 7 7 8 8 8 9 9 <10> ]

    Resulting in 9 successes.

 

The golden flame leaps out, brilliant even against the dusk, and the top of the bursts into fire. A dozen arrows streak like comets across the sky of unfolding night- several fall short, but a few strike true. The men on the boat seem to break at that- a few start throwing sand, kept in buckets along the sides, on the fires- but the mast is alight like a torch. The river's already swallows two chared men- and then the live ones start to jump in, swimming like mad for the far shore.

 

    Amon then begins to cast Commanding Presence of Fire, creating a large totem-esque projection of himself wreathed in flames. He speaks in a booming and commanding voice, "Men, you have been defeated. Surrender your commander unto me and you shall be spared. Continue your retreat and the Realm shall hunt you like dogs! The Realm treats its prisoners of war well. The choice is yours." As if to further prove the point he levels his fuel bolt launcher and aims at a man, awaiting the decision from the people of the ship.

 

A shout comes back, "Death to the Realm! The Scavanger Lands will never submit to your kind!" Not from the man you had pointed the launcher at, he seems struck dumb with terror. Indeed, the men of the ship are abandoning it in haste now. Upriver from the north, you can see the crimson sails of a Realm ship, cutting it's way down the river towards the rapidly burning hulk of what was once, almost doubtlessly, a Fillin raider's ship- small and swift, used for quick strikes. One of you senior staff points at the men in the water. "Shall we feather'em, sir?"

 

    Lazaros levels his launcher at the man who shouted back and presses the trigger, letting go a powerful blast from a weapon designed to take out warstriders. "Anyone else want to be a hero," he asks in his booming voice, "Or are you ready to surrender honorably?!" Out of the corner of his eyes he sees the Realm ship and his lips curl into a smile. Pointing to it with one hand he says, "Observe, even now the Realm sends me reinforcements."

 

The shouter explodes, limbs and a chunk of his head sailing gaily through the air, as a huge chunk of the bow of the ship with the blast. The flame from the mast begins spreading across the deck, and those few fools that had remained aboard quickly jump out. You notice a few are now swimming towards the shore, while several more are swimming away- promises of good treatment notwithstanding, and the vast river between them.

 

    Lazaros takes out his war knife, more of a sword than a knife and points it to those that are fleeing, "Men, shoot the rats that are fleeing. No quarter to the rats that flee!" He waits for everyone to fire before sheathing his knife and adds, "Do not stop until the last rat is dead!" It is left unsaid that those that turn around are to be spared, but that should be obvious. Turning to the Realm ship he says through his fiery projection, "Talonlord, take out the men that are fleeing, use your ballistae and siege crossbows."

 

"Yes, Winglord!" The calavary shout as one, their bows angling upwards to send a volley into the air, arrows plunging into the water. Several of the swimmers plunge under- some resurfacing in varying degrees of puncture. The Realm ship sends a pair of ballesta bolts into the river, sending up huge waves that do more to kill by drawing men under than by actually injuring them.

 

Another volley, and it appears to be over. The sun has set, the only light coming from the guttering flames of the ruined ship, the phantasmal light of the projected Lazaros, and the pale moon, little more than a cresent but beginning to wax. The almost invisible purple of Saturn twinkles brightly, briefly.

 

    Amon holds his hands up when its over and tells his men, "Good job, men." Then pointing to the nearest person that is swimming to his shore he says, "Now aid me in securing these prisoners. No doubt they will have interesting things to relate to us." Addressing the prisoners he says, "You know how the Strategos treats its POWs. You can either join the ranks of the legion or in your case work to make reparations to the village you destroyed." He extracts his plasma tongue repeater and gestures for his men to go forward and claim the prisoners while he keeps an eye out for anyone that might want to be a hero by attacking.

 

The men seem... oddly subdued. You've taken prisoners before, and they don't usually seem pre-broken like this. The phantasmal light of the projection makes it hard to see much about them, but they don't resist much. Their heavily muscled- not unusual for soldiers, but lack any kind of fight or resistance. One, a little more alert than his fellows, gives Amon a brief nod.

 

-= OOC =- Amon Lazaros says, "Can I roll something to find out why they're like this?"

-= OOC =- Masq Timor says, "Sure. Gimme a Perception + Occult."

-= OOC =- Amon Lazaros spends a willpower

(Judge) Amon Lazaros rolls Perception + Occult: [ 3 4 4 8 8 9 <10> ]

    Resulting in 5 successes.

-= OOC =- Masq Timor says, "They look... drugged? No... more like Fae Ravaged. Not totally lost, but the lights aren't on so bright any more."

 

    Once the prisoners are secure he leaves the tenth scale to watch over them and tells the talonlord of the ship to follow them to the village. He rides hard back to the village, the fiery projection fading as he does so. As he rides he turns to the man that reported the findings, "Tell me what you saw and what the other men were doing when you left. I want to know what to expect."

 

"Sir. The villagers... it looked like they'd all been killed. Could be some ran off, but we haven't found 'em yet." The soldier backtracks. "All but one had been killed. They left a woman alive. She... she wasn't saying much when the Scalelord sent me to you. Crying hard, her knees drawn up to her head." He shakes his head. "I think those bastards raped her, and then left her." He shakes his head again. "Clean work though, on the village. They torched everything, killed most of the livestock. Ground was muddy as the Dragon's shit. Pardon the language, sir," he adds, after the last. "When I left, the scales were putting the fires out and looking for survivors. I think I heard the Tenth Scale pound out, probally covering the nearby ground for any runaways."

 

    Lazaros shakes his head, keeping his fears of the Fair Folk to himself as he rides--better not to spook the men. He urges Belle, his horse, to go faster until he reaches the village. Quietly he simply tells the talonlord he brought with him, "We may have to call for Dragon-Blooded reinforcement. Strategos Zuriel will not be amused."

 

The talonlord nods, face grim. "Think it was organized, sir?" he asks, as you come to the village. The smoke's out, but a few sentry fires have been set up, soldiers with hard faces making tight patrols. They salute as you pass. A campfire is set up near the center of the village, a scalelord and two soldiers sitting on blankets near a woman with dark hair, her eyes hollow, shivering slightly. She's drapped in a soldier's scarlet cloak, and clutching it tightly to her sides.

-= OOC =- Masq Timor says, "Please make a Per + Awareness."

(Judge) Amon Lazaros rolls Perception + Awareness: [ 3 4 5 6 6 ]

    Resulting in a failure.

-= OOC =- Amon Lazaros uses Lucky to reroll

(Judge) Amon Lazaros rolls Perception + Awareness: [ 2 3 8 <10> <10> ]

    Resulting in 5 successes.

-= OOC =- Amon Lazaros smiles, "Much better."

-= OOC =- Masq Timor says, "Very lucky :)"

-= OOC =- Amon Lazaros says, "6 Sux total."

(Judge) Masq Timor rolls 8: [ -1- -1- 3 5 6 7 <10> <10> ]

    Resulting in 5 successes.

-= OOC =- Masq Timor says, "Nothing seems to be amiss. A woman has undergone a terrible tragedy."

 

    Lazaros dismounts and gives his horse to the nearest private. He moves over to the woman and examines her not noting anything out of the ordinary. "We'll have to take her to headquarters in Greyfalls," he says bluntly, "Let the Strategos and his wife look after her. If her mind's broken, Lady Kyrie's the only one that can fix it." Turning to his second-in-command he says quietly, "Tell me what you've gathered, I want to know everything as well as anything you've recovered that might give us a clue what we're dealing with. I don't think these were Firen."

 

The woman starts crying softly as you turn away. The soldier shrugs slightly. "Probally a bunch of mutiners turned pirate sir, but they sure as shit looked like Firin's to me. What we found?" He spits. "Nothing. Place was looted, and anything they could take they burned and killed. I expect a few of the women likely ended up on that boat too sir- frankly, you just gave 'em the best gift they probally coulda hoped for. Found a few broken arrows, but nothing else. Neat work."

 

    Lazaros shakes his head, "No, the Firen are more organized. They employ essence weaponry. I was fully expecting the ship to broadside us with half a dozen small essence cannons, but they didn't even fire back with bows. The Firen have been set up, that much is obvious. Hopefully one of the prisoners or the woman can provide us with answers. Show me the arrowheads, if they're not Trakar then that would clinch that the Firen were set up--they don't use bows." He gives the woman one last glance before being led by the talonlord, he'll talk to her after he's inspected the arrows.

 

The soldier shows you several broken arrows- high quality steel heads. No markings of where they're from. "Begging your pardon sir, but what are you thinking?" asks the soldier, handing you the arrows. "I don't think anyone thinks it's really the Firen, but they sure as shit wore Firen colors."

 

    Inspecting the heads, Lazaros shakes his head as he pockets them, "These aren't Trakar, too well made." He walks back to the woman and explains, "Someone went to great lengths to hire troops, buy a ship and attack a village. That requires a lot of financial backing, many talents of silver went into this little charade. I doubt that its a single incident. Even random raiders would have had to spend silver on counterfeit equipment. The raiders also seemed more like victims than aggressors. Someone is playing us, but we need to figure out why." As he reaches the woman, he crouches down and rubs her shoulder, "I'm Winglord Lazaros. What's your name?"

 

The woman flinches at the touch, looking down, her eyes crunching down but not quite closing. She clutches the cloak to herself even more tightly, hunching down. "May..." she whispers. "Delightful May, sir." Her voice is soft and raw.

 

    He smiles warmly at her and says, "Please, just call me Amon. Delightful May, I know these are very hard times for you, but I need you to tell me everything that happened. Don't leave out even the slightest detail. Would you like some tea?" Turning to one of his men he says, "Prepare some tea for May."

 

The man gives a quick salute, then begins the rather domestic operation. May keeps her head down. In the firelight, you can see her hair is a dark red. "It... I'm not sure... We..." She draws a shaky breath. "I was praying at the shrine, today. We..." she flinches slightly. "We still kept our shrine, to the Old River Bear." Just one of the dozens of Gods, who's worship was being pushed out by the Realm. "It was my turn... and... I was in the shrine... THen I heard... I heard shouting..." She swallows hard, her eyes scrunching shut tight.

 

    Once the tea is ready Amon takes a cup and hands it to May then takes a cup for himself and sips once. "So you heard shouting when you were in the shrine," he repeats not bothering with the fact that there was a shrine to begin with--after all, he's not a monk. "Tell me what happened next, May," he kindly requests.

 

She takes the tea jerkily, her hands shaking slightly. "There were... men... strange men, I'd never seen before. Running through the village. With swords. And there was... blood, and screaming. I... I fainted..." She draws another shaking breath. "I woke up, and... one of them... one of them was on top of me..." She looks up, directly in your eyes, very suddenly, her face pale. "I was a shrine maiden, and he was /on top of me/. And he wasn't the last!" Her voice starts to grow louder, more shrill with anger and fear and frustration. "I could hear people dying! Animals dying! I smelled the fire and the flesh of my family /cooking/ for these MONSTERS!" She suddenly breaks down, sobbing, receding back into herself.

 

    Lazaros frowns as he listens to her story, clearly she's been through a lot of trauma. As she breaks down he offers her a comforting hug, holding her and shhing her for a long while until he believes she can go on and then pulls back. "I think we should take you to Greyfalls," he explains to her, "Lady Kyrie can help you heal and I'm sure Warlord Zuriel will have some questions for you." Turning to one of his men he says, "She's going to be riding with me. Look after her and make sure she's taken care of until we leave. Now take me to the prisoners."

 

She nods, still subdued, slowly regaining her composure.

The prisoners shuffle absently, aimlessly. Not looking at anyone in particular, or anything. Most men, in the dark, instinctivly towards lights; trained men know to look away, to avoid becoming nightblind. But they don't seem to be doing either, especially. "They haven't said a thing," one of the soldiers tells you, in a low voice, as you approach.

 

    Amon nods and studies the men, looking at their armour and weapons. He grabs the one with the highest rank and pulls him close, "Tell me everything you know. What were your orders and who sent you. And don't you dare lie to me." He sniffs the air and adds, "I can smell a liar."

 

One of the men, his eyes more livey than the rest, smiles mirthlessly at that. "You wouldn't say that sort of thing, if you'd ever met the Folk," He gives Amon a considering look. "But what's to tell. You already know our story. You could tell it for us." He looks left, then right. "But you're gonna drag us along, like some merry band of fools. Probally show us to a Dragon or three, who'll sniff at us and braethe fire, but they'll already know our story too, soon as you tell it to 'em."

 

    Lazaros's eyes narrows and he simply says, "The Fair Folk." Gesturing he says, "Round them up fellows, we're riding back to Greyfalls ASAP!" He retrieves Belle and walks her over to May saying, "Come on, get on my horse." He begins to cast Infallible Messenger and contacts his Strategos, "Lord Zuriel, the Firen imposters were somehow ravaged or manipulated by the Fair Folk. I am riding back to Greyfalls with them and the woman that survived the assault. I recommend we quarantine the lot of them, with special quarters of the woman: Delightful May. Send an engineering corp to rebuild the town too. Lazaros out, sir." And so he mounts Belle as well and begins the long ride back to Greyfalls.

Handled via OOC-

During a night on the way back to Greyfalls, Delightful May attempted to escape.

(Judge) Masq Timor rolls 7: [ -1- -1- 2 3 4 5 8 ]

    Resulting in 1 successes.

(OOC) Amon Lazaros just spent Willpower from his Willpower pool

(Judge) Amon Lazaros rolls Perception + Awareness: [ 2 2 4 5 <10> ]

    Resulting in 2 successes.

But failed.  She was devlievered to Kyrie at the Resplendent House of Healing, claiming to have family in the area.

 

Kyrie confirmed that all but one of the prisoners were functionally soul eaten.

The last was perhaps wyld-touched, but that's not entirely uncommon in the Threshold.  He also claimed to be a bandit, paid by a man with a Nexian accent to set up the event.

Also, that May wasn't in the village, since they'd left no one alive.