A5G

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

[GM Post]

"Ya know what, nevermind. I'll figure something for Mattie, meet you halfway?"

Rifling through Mattie's pocket did yielded a slightly scuffed piece of the king's order, complete with the royal seal and old Freddy's signature. It'll be useful in the near future, probably. Thankfully it wasn't yet time to make use of it - a spark of ingenuity coupled with a few well-placed blows later and Yvonne and co managed to kludge together a rather crude but functional travois out of the tent and spears and whatnot scavenged from the mercenaries' abandoned stuff. The party slinked away as the villagers finally gathered in sufficient number to investigate, a procession of torches and hushed whispers trundling forward to the ruined granary.

They didn't quite get too far, with Chounan's horse gone and Yvonne's own ride relegated into pack mule, but the group made it clear away from the village by the time the first ray of sunlight pierced through the eastern horizon. There'll be issues ongoing there, but that's someone else's problem now. Yvonne was more than willing to wash her hand off the matter.

A grin broke through Yvonne's visage as she finally spotted the other group coming from the distance, made visible by the crack of down. About damn time, yeah?

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

"She said it's some sort of trading company, Smith something but it's almost definitely a shell. Looks obvious to me, it's to trap whoever come investigating, but only Mattie talked to them and she wasn't exactly coherent in the short moment she's conscious." Yvonne winced at the estimated arrival time. That's long enough for those merc to gather somewhere and set up a plan, and their healer was out of contact. What a mess. And then the villagers probably will come investigate sooner than later too.

They've been had rather good.

"Uh, if I wasn't clear enough - ain't no other survivors from the explosion. Well, if there's some they'd be burned at this point, whole place went up in flames." Damned tool was choppy, likely damaged. Thankfully messages still partially went through, she just needed to not talk at the same time as Sparky. "Cart would be great still, Mattie's too banged up for a ride. I can rifle through her pocket for stuff, I guess? If old Freddy give identification to anyone it'll be her."

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

Uncanning Matilda was surprisingly easier than expected. Some of the screws were tightened beyond normal means to remove, but a bit of extra juice and it twisted out just fine. Then it's a matter of removing the plates off the orc. Some part didn't look pretty of course, and by that Yvonne meant the mounted crossbow, but eh. Mattie will not have any problem getting replacement.

"Kindean mercenaries, they're paid to guard the mysterious cargo by a shell company. Their leader was caught in the explosion, and unfortunately he didn't have plate armor to protect himself. We scattered the rest of the company, about twenty or so. Amateurs, got no armor and a few weapons. Dont think they'll rally but who knows, I'd rather not stick around." Now that their situation was reversed, it's not impossible for a strike from the dark to inflict damage in a moment of carelessness. Even with Verny's darksight.

"Say, if you're coming here maybe get the cart we hid earlier? Ain't no way to move Mattie on a horse. Ah, would be great if our bear can leg it faster too."

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

[GM Post]

Yvonne glanced at the mercenaries trying their best to pen her in. Then her sight flickered toward Chounan, much in the same situation on the other side. The heat from the fire baked at her back, contrasting the cold plate of Matilda's armor in her grasp. She sighed. Oh well, one last attempt, then it's mass murder.

She let the orc captain go, as gently as it's reasonably possible under the circumstances. Then, mace in hand, she charged into the enemy ranks. A few spears were thrusted in response, a very textbook maneuver, but their timing and reach were mismatched. Drilled and experienced in combat, but mostly not quite veteran yet. Come to think of it, now that the fire brought some extra illumination, most were young faces.

Maybe this will work after all.

Judging the distance, Yvonne halted and built up her inner strength as she swatted the spear that extended furthest. It didn't break but was ripped out of the wielder's grasp with a yelp of pain, the return swing repeated the feat on another. The spears flew in an arc to clonk the people around, a moment of chaos that she perfectly utilize to tear through into their ranks.

A different power built up in her lungs as Yvonne howled, an inhumanely loud cacophony closer to a beast than a human. The effect was immediate, the mercenaries seized in sudden terror before almost at once they turned tail and fled.

"I'LL RIP YOUR ARMS OFF AND BEAT YOU TO DEATH WITH IT, MOTHERFUCKERS!"

Some shook off the effect sooner than others, but the sight of their companions fleeing (and the threat they're hearing right behind them) kept the rout going strong. Most of them stumbled on the fence, but it wasn't built to keep humans out. Within moments they climbed over and vanished from sight, leaving terrified screams behind.

That was easy, for once. Stretching her arms, Yvonne went off for a repeat performance to relieve Chounan before finally managing to drag Matilda into relative safety.

*****

Several minutes later, the communication device on Jazdia buzzed for attention as the paired device reestablished connection.

"Is this bloody thing working? Hello? Oh finally! Whoever designed this need to get a spanking, I swear." Yvonne's voice could be heard from it, somewhat distorted and a bit high-pitched in a way that resembled a chipmunk but at least it's connecting. "Short version, it all went to shit. I think Matilda got a face-full of explosives, she's got shrapnel all over. Currently unconscious again, but she got some scrying orders out to missus Verny here. Supposedly prince's in Fanghorn. For sure this time. Small fort on a hill, there's stone wall, village attached next to it, in view of the river yeah? He's in the garret up there. What to do now, boss?"

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

[GM Post]

Being rudely awakened in the middle of the night was not a nice feeling, but at least it had proven that the warding construct worked as intended. Three of them were set up, each ridiculously complicated, but the customer had generously met Asevor's equally ridiculous price tag. And he of course delivered, just as it was proper.

The outer layer was a powerful scrying mask, an ingenious design traded from a Tretagor archmage many years back. The most rudimentary masking was a simple tug of war, where a strong enough attempt will punch through like an arrow through a sheet of parchment. This one instead deflected the scry, rebounding and dispersing potential result into a much larger potential area that an accurate pinpointing was nothing more than a pipe dream. The downside was that it's less effective the closer the distance involved were, but it was not an insurmountable barrier to someone of his intellect.

Then the second and third constructs came in play. By utilizing part of an object or a person, Asevor was able to create a decoy that'll mislead predictive magic to its position. Meanwhile, the third construct was an illusory one that replay the one-day happenings in a certain room, overlaid with the second ward. The entire thing was fragile enough, and with the rigged explosives it'll be irreparably damaged from the concussive blows and the shrapnel. Finally, once it's gone the paired construct would sounds an alarm to alert Asevor that the trap had been sprung.

Thus the garrison was alerted and prepared for combat, that brute Ragnar couldn't even be bothered to conceal his lust for violence. Thankfully the archmage held the highest command in this clusterfuck of an organized treason when the client weren't present, thus he kept the northlander in leash. For now.

"Lord Asevor? What's that?"

"Just a little spy, my good baron. If my amulet wasn't faulty, it's an undead of some sort." A nondescript black blob floated in the air, isolated and compressed within a glowing sphere of arcane energy. His amulet said it's an undead, and a short cast of detect undead indeed pointed at it yet again. Did another one of these triggered his room's warding just now? Troubling. "I'll take care of this one, and any that happen to be in this fort. But outside my presence, always assume that you are under watch."

Let's see. Wrinkled hand reached into the silken nightrobe, taking out a small leatherbound book. Flipping to a certain page, Asevor cleared his throat before making some gesture in the air.

"Koriloth's purge undead should do, I believe. Let's see. This goes here..."

It started with a line, then quickly grew into some sort of cantellated tesseract. Carefully adding one last line, Asevor injected mana as the spell construct rapidly collapsed into itself. From the center it pulsed outward, barely a small gust of wind to unintiated mortals but easily felt by those attuned with magic... or to undead, specifically, the feeling that something was trying to dismantle their very existence.

The shade in the prison quietly dissipated. Any other in the fort itself also lost capability to maintain themselves, though the walls broke the spell from affecting the outside. But this should at least deter the necromancer from sending more minions inside. Intangible spies really were the most annoying to deal with.

Trouble didn't end there, of course. Mere minutes later there's report that the bridge to the north collapsed in an explosion. Then the men sent to check on it was stopped at the gate, where apparently some throny bramble grew and blocked the gate from opening. It's still growing quickly, even. And since it's a magical phenomenon, of course they call upon the magic expert. Asevor took his time getting dressed, of course. As a professional he had to be presentable. Besides, he need to retrieve all of his rings and trinkets and whatnot.

"Interesting."

The growth weren't just outside the gate. It's surrounding the entire wall, all but trapping them inside the premise. Two of the pearls on his amulet glowed, this... druid and undeath. What an odd combination. Asevor performed a series of gesture over his right eye, and soon enough a circle filled with geometrical pattern formed like a fancy glowing monocle.

"Ah, yes. I see, so that's how it is." He turned, pointing at one of the adept mages. Of course he's not going down there himself, that's what underlings were for. "You there, can you use detect magic? Yes? Good. Bring five men down and break apart the druidic influence around the overgrowth, and be quick about it. Comes sunrise we'll be neck deep in thorns, and we cant have that can we? I'll deal with the caster."

The foe was underground somewhere, if the flow of magic was accurate. That'll render most of his offensive arsenal moot, how annoying. But thankfully it was an undead creature, then Koriloth's workings should still be effective even if it's only an approximate imitation. Leisurely he formed the same spell construct, though this time directed in a wide cone downward instead of an indiscriminate pulse.

Asevor released it once. Then another. The growth stopped halfway through the third attempt, though from his observation the enemy had fled instead of truly purged. Well, that was to be expected. No sense just standing there taking attacks while fueling such a large workings. It simply wont work.

"He had fled, I will keep watch to ensure he'll not return." Again, there's no way Asevor's getting down there. He's far too important for a henchman job. "Well, what are the rest of you standing around for? Clean up the bramble outside the gate, and check on that bridge!"

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

[GM Post]

Yvonne had no idea when did Chowder retrieved his horse, but there he came riding it into the throng of confused mercenaries. There's just one problem though - it was not a trained warhorse. The explosion earlier must've already startled it somewhat fierce, and then it's directed toward a bunch of screaming people and pointy object.

As a result? It bucked the rider off and took off into the night.

That embarassing little hiccup aside, the man's skill was the real deal. He dodged, deflected, and parried with ease even against increasing number, occupying enough of them that Yvonne didn't see much trouble going in. No one's getting killed either, surprisingly. Maybe mass murder could still be avoided.

Swatting a young lad's spear out of his grasp, Yvonne shoved the little obstacle aside before entering the barn. Fire had started to spread now, unnaturally so. There's likely pitch or oil involved for it to be this bad. Thankfully Matilda wasn't hard to locate, laying on her back not far off from the center. That... didn't look good. The armor had prevented the worst damage to vital parts, but some of the weaker points and the joints was savaged by shrapnel. Not to mention that she's practically next to the source of the explosion. Compared to open wounds, shockwave injuries were silent and insidious. If someone's shanked in the gut at least it's clear what's the damage was, but ain't no telling if there's internal bleeding somewhere before suddenly the victim dropped dead.

"Shit. Come on, big girl. Ain't time for a dirt nap yet."

Lifting the orc was out of question, but Yvonne tested the cuirass and found it still holding together just fine so she grabbed and pulled it by the back of the neck. Keeping her stance low, the mercenary coughed as she moved as fast as she could out of the burning building. There were other bodies in there. Possibly other survivors, too. But she's not in any position to play the hero. One step after the other. Soon enough the burnt acrid air was replaced with cool night wind, and that's one danger out of.

Still not all safe, though. Mercs were grouping up and organizing. Some of them stood in her way, and Yvonne's still too close to the burning barn for comfort. She reeeeally didn't feel like talking right now. Her free hand twitched closer to the mace's handle. Can she kill them? Let's kill them, yeah?

Not far away was a group trying to corner Chowder. Non-lethal takedown was good and all, but proven to be quite difficult to do when they're covering for each other. It'll take some time to get it resolved... or an intervention from someone else.

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

[NPC Post]

Reinhold whistled as the bridge collapsed into the river, dark chunks of stone falling into inky-black depth as the current hungrily devoured the structure until all that's left where the head and tail end of it. Yeah, that'll stop them from leaving alright. Then it's only a matter of-

"Wait, what? Leaving?" Seemed like he was too hasty. Of course these folks will ensure their companion's safety for the moment. Oh well. What's a few more hours, right? "I suppose that's prudent. I'll stay here, might as well keep an eye on them. You can find me in the hilly region east of the village."

The sentries atop the fort was shouting in alarm, barely audible even from this far out. At least one of them saw the explosions, and despite the dark of the night there's still faint trace of moonbeams that gave enough sight of the bridge collapsing. Well, if they didn't know that they're under attack they could be certain now.

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

And to think that she expected this to at least relatively smooth.

"Mattie, what the fuck."

Even if there's complications, at worst Yvonne expected the mercenaries to turn on them the first chance they got. If they were to take it further, the prince may be nowhere to be seen. In which case they'll just commit mass murder and regroup with Jazdia's team, easy enough. But nooo, it's never an easy day in this latest job she got hitched at. Almost as if it's cursed or something. Clicking her tongue, Yvonne broke into a sprint to approach the barn. The building looked intact, but from the intensity sound and the resulting shrapnel that flew far enough to clatter near her feet there's no way the people inside was remotely well after the explosion.

Well, that and the fact that no one's running out of the wooden building. And did she mentioned the fire? Because it's getting real bright real fast in there. Point being, she probably should try drag Mattie out before the entire thing turned into a pyre.

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"

"What the fuck are the sentries doing?! Captain, where is captain?!"

Good job Yvonne, way to jynx it. Now that the sleeping company was rapidly rousing and arming, with the most daring few running out only wearing shorts with whatever weapon they had, it's looking more and more unlikely to avoid using violence. Non-lethal takedown was possible, yes, but... any delay may result in Mattie's death. Cant have that, they hadn't even get to share a reunion chat yet.

She's got to be alive. Girl's a tough one. Definitely.

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

[GM Post]

The next minute or two was quite awkward, for the few night-shift guards. Matilda herself was unmoving as a statue, with a mean glare to match. Thankfully it didn't take long before a hastily dressed man with an impressive scar across his face hurried out of the tent. Armed, of course. But the sword was sheathed. And he hadn't ordered the men to attack. Good enough.

"What- Dame Matilda. It's really you." The greying man stood straighter, and winced as he counted the standing guards. "My men are gone, I assume."

"You recognized me?" That elicited a raised eyebrow. Matilda tried to remember, but couldn't quite place where she could've met the man. Looked like one of those army types, but there's no way she could remember everyone. "Aye, my apologies. I acted with the best information I had."

"Aye, I was a sergeant in the army until the end of the rebellion a few years back. Didn't take too well to retirement, so I started my own company and goes from there. Name's Gilbert, by the way." Not much was changed in the mannerism, but the orc can see some tension leaving the shoulders. Some. This probably could still go south, if the wrong buttons were pushed. "I've heard the details. Damn shame that was, but the boys know what they signed up for. Still, I can at least ask for their death to be compensated, hm? Gotta look after them, as their boss. And I'd like to bury the bodies, please."

"I promise in my name that they'll receive a soldier's compensation for dying in the line of duty. Come visit me in the capital in a few days and it will be done." Matilda didn't even think too hard about it. She nodded in agreement, turning around to speak without even seeing anyone in particular. Just several short minutes and her night vision were gone. "V, retrieve the bodies please."

And with that done, back at Gilbert.

"Satisfied?"

"Good enough. I'd rather have the men back, but I know my limit. Now, let's get those boxes open. I'd like to see what caused the kingdom's finest to come at me and my boys, all ready for violence. Shouldn't have taken the contract, it's all fishy from start to finish. But men like us dies for wealth, aye?" He chuckled darkly. "Get us some prybars, lad. I know you're all curious about the cargo."

The barn was opened. It's... actually so much cleaner than anyone could've expected, as if someone had thoroughly cleansed any farm-related filth beforehand. Several crates of various size were stacked neatly, but Matilda's eyes were immediately drawn on to the by far largest box there. No, to call it a box would be a disservice. The thing was the size of an entire shack, and had iron chains tightly wound around it. Wasn't the prince stuck in a single, windowless room? But if so, the captor must be nearby to keep watch on him. Her eyes narrowed, hand never straying far from the hilt of her sword and she kept her back away from the mercenaries.

"The big one. Clear out the boxes surrounding it."

The underlings took one glance at Gilbert, who nodded in assent. They immediately began to work at it, all conveniently standing in eyesight as they did. If those outside tried anything funny, Matilda was sure her compatriots will do something about it. For now, it's her show.

"I'm sure you're curious about the contract. We've been here for... about two weeks? No, exactly two weeks. Some guy claiming to be a merchant from the capital, Smith and Sons Trading Company. Never heard of them before. Anyway, they want us to safeguard a secret batch of cargo that had, and I quote, 'attracted unwanted attention'. Whatever that meant. Normally I ain't touching that deal with a six foot pole, but the pay's generous. More than twice what we'd earn on a good month, and all that just to sit around doing nothing? Boys probably will lynch me if I refuse. That's how we get here."

Boxes were moved. A curious mercenary pried open a smaller one. It's filled with beddings, and not even the fancy kind. He scratched his head in confusion, then back to move more boxes.

"And these employers of yours. No sight of them?"

"No, they actually shows up every three days. Almost exactly at midday, with the same wagon. Just like clockwork, they are. They come and go into the barn, supposedly to check the merchandise, hands over our wage, and leave. There's usually less boxes after each visit, but sometimes they got replaced. It starts to look legit after a while, I guess?" Gilbert shook his head. "I'd call it too good to be true, but the money's the real deal. Honestly, we've made quite the killing. It's just the manner of the death doesn't sit quite right with me, yeah?"

Matilda didn't answer. The latest batch of removed crates revealed a door, plain and simply hidden behind other objects. She stepped forward, tugging at a chain but finding it wound solid to a padlock. Likely something that'll take at most a few minutes of effort for the "helpers" to dismantle, but impatience got the best of her. Drawing the heirloom sword, she angled the tip into the padlock and forced it down.

The resulting metallic screech was almost like a protesting keen of a sentient tool being used for an improper purpose, but it's probably just the wind playing tricks. With the padlock gone the chains slithered off, clattering noisily around the large crate. Matilda glanced around, only to be met with a number of curious audience that not-so-subtly tried to peer into the crate. She snorted audibly.

"Back off. If the person I seek is here, his identity is sensitive. And give me that prybar."

They backed off, reluctantly. Instead they took to opening the smaller crates with renewed vigor. The orc may had claim the grand prize, but the smaller items probably wouldn't even interest her.

A pair of iron sliding locks, secured by more padlocks. A little huff and grunt and the entire edifice was pried off, the padlocks untouched. Then there's a modest handle with a keyhole underneath. Matilda wedged the beak of the prybar and was about to heave the last obstacle when the forgotten comm device pinged with Jazdia's voice. She snarled in annoyance, but listened in. Part of her considered to ignore it, but she pushed the thought away. Keeping up to date was important.

"Finished? What do you mean finished, you found him there?" Was this place a red herring after all? "No sign of the bear here. I think I'm close, just give me a minute."

Stuffing the device back to the inner pocket, Matilda resumed opening the door with impatient fury. Several loud cracks later and it's finally pried off, and as the orc triumphantly flung the wooden panel open her expression froze on witnessing what's inside.

It wasn't a well-furnished room, with an elated prince welcoming the rescue.

An edifice of precisely cut stone, glass, and metal stood in the center, about as tall as a man. Its surface was dotted with mystical pattern of dizzying geometry, the lines glowing with otherworldly blue light. The inner side of the crate, in turn, was carved with rather similarly styled pattern. A chain reaction seemed to be ongoing, the patterns flaring brighter starting from the pried open door panel and spreading into the rest of it. The crate crumbled into many pieces, none seemingly larger than an inch, as if an impossibly sharp blade sliced it apart according to the pattern itself.

Then Matilda noticed that the bottom of the box wasn't glowing. Or more precisely, the glow was covered by a number of clay urns. She recognized the smell of black powder, and the telltale spark of a combustion. Her eyes widened as she realized that she had walked straight into a trap, and she barely had the time to raise an arm to cover her face when the terribly loud noise consumed the world.

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

[GM Post]

From Solomon's perspective, the shades that crossed the stone walls felt slightly more distant... or more accurately, the connection between them and their master were slightly hampered. The sensation intensified as they slithered into the keep, as if they're suddenly several times as far, but still well within his sphere of influence. What they find conform to Jazdia's own observation - the cellar was devoid of life, used mostly for storage though there's a couple of dreary and empty cells that hadn't seen use for quite some time. Further up on the first floor was a hall, several long tables were arranged neatly in the center. Some armed men were gathering, speaking some curiosity at the sudden mustering. Up another level and the shades discovered various private chambers, several bedrooms for either the baron, his family, or any guests, plus a study. The family wasn't present at all - their room showing no sign of lived on.

One shade tried entering the guest room, and that's the last Solomon heard of it - the existence snuffed instantly, like water droplet into a forge.

Another snuck into the baron's private chamber, which turned out was not-so-private at the moment. A middle-aged slightly plump man with balding head was in the middle of a conversation with a slightly taller old man with a head of immaculately groomed white hair and white beard. What conversation, exactly, was a mystery. Because the elder paused, turned to stare right at the shade, and with the snap of a finger the summoned entity ceased to be. A faint pulse of magic can be felt through the fort's dampening wall, and then any other shades infiltrating the keep found themselves systematically erased in short order.