A5G

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

[GM Post]

"It's good to see you, miss Rosenving." The prince sheepishly said, a crack forming in the mature gentlemanly visage he tried to put up as the teenaged boy peeked from within. The crack furthered into a near-awkward nervous pause as Jazdia pressed him further, though thankfully the added conversation with the bear-man bought him some time to mend it. The adventuring party was... almost exactly how he imagined one, like those in the stories, although perhaps missing a dashing young leader with penchant for cringy heroic speeches.

He decided that it's probably for the better.

"I do have my own wealth and asset I can bestow as a reward, miss. In my capacity as a prince I'm afraid it'll likely be nowhere as grand as whatever my father have promised your team, but it will not be for lack of trying." Alec thought that it's a good enough deflection. Whatever he could personally gift out wouldn't be overly precious compared to a king's bounty. If they wanted to cash in the favor immediately, then so be it. But he prefers to properly pay back his rescuers after his ascension to the throne. Hopefully he's better at negotiation by then. "That aside, I'm not familiar with most of you. Perhaps an introduction is in order?"

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

[GM Post]

Otto von Kruber was dead. It had happened so quickly that the man himself didn't even realize it happening, only a brief flash followed by eternal darkness. His soul, weak as it were, lingered in a trance until a whisper of a necromancer anchored him and brought some semblance of temporary clarity to the late baron.

Concern for his family warred with the fear of the unknown, and the former eventually won. Just by a hair. He refused to act in any way that will endanger his family. Only with Solomon's agreement to it will he agree to the binding deal and remain as one of the summoned repertoire.

Outside, the attempt to reach out to Ragnar the Red was met with an obstacle. A different force was in the process of pulling the soul away, its source distant yet inexorably connected to the northland warrior. Ragnar's spirit was much more lively than the baron, taking the death in surprisingly casual manner as if he's just in for a ride.

Endless battle? The Ironhand offered the same! I'd rather join the ancestors' eternal warband, but if ye got a better idea...

The foreign force seemingly pulsed with dissatisfaction at the attempted bargaining, the barbarous father of the northlanders exerting more power to pull the soul away. Yet he was distant and his strength limited, the connection should be easily interrupted by a seasoned necromancer. If one was daring enough to try.

Ragnar's uproarious laughter was almost audible in the physical realm.

There were mixed response from the various dead. Some accepted, some did not, but the rank of Solomon's undead followers will only swell after this evening. Most of the casualties were from the mercenaries, who got killed nearly to the last man. Some of the baron's servants and villagers died in the conflict, but not as many as one may expected. A significant number managed to gain shelter in their cellar, though with the houses collapsed they're mostly stuck down there until rescued.

Finally, on the outskirt of the fort, Solomon found a wisp of Asevor's soul. The false archmage was more than a little miffed at his manner of demise, beaten by a band of ignorant fools and a freak of nature that weaponized wild magic. Now that he's dead, though, he didn't seemed overly worried at his state. He did not trust the necromancer, and flat out refused the contract. Whether it's out of pride or something else, Asevor refused to elaborate.

Back in the fort, the prince gathered himself as he finally gave the rescue party a lookover. He stepped forward, clearing his throat to grab the attention of those present before half-bowing in gratitude. Courtly and impeccable, only marred by the fact that he's wearing a pajama somewhat drenched by the rain.

"Pardon me for my lack of manners, brave adventurers. The past few days had been a rather harrowing experience." He straightened up, eyes resembling his father's scanning the room to commit to memory the faces of his rescuers. "I am prince Alec of Kindeance, and I offer you my heartfelt gratitude for a most daring rescue. This debt, I shall never forget."

That was the moment Yvonne choose to reappear from the cellar, dragging a firkin cask of presumably some alcohol one-handed with a few large mugs tied to it. The mercenary paused, noticed who's at the center of attention, and her visage split into a wide grin not unlike a certain cat from a wonderland fairytale.

"Hey, it's little Alec! Good to see you in one piece!" She studiously ignored how Matilda glared in disapproval, electing to lift the cask onto the blackened table before cracking open the top. Fragrance of grape and alcohol wafted from the content, some splashes of deep burgundy spilled from the impact. "I've found the wine! Oh, there's also a weird man down there. Dressed like a servant and drunk out of his bloody mind. Thought you guys would want to know."

She idly grabbed a bread from the repopulated table, courtesy of the foreign swordsman. It's cold, and probably started to turn stale already, but who cares - she need the calorie.

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

Metallic clatter rang as Yvonne tore a part of her melted hauberk away, a miraculously uninjured fingertip pulling it as far as it would give while the good hand went to town with her trusty old sword. Links continued to fall off until she completely ripped a line through, then she slipped out of it like an old shirt that had somehow shrunken while she had it on. The gambeson underneath followed soon, partially burnt into an uneven heap and therefore just shredded to get it out of the way faster. That left her with only her chest binding, revealing the angry red blisters travelling up her left arm around a line of deeper burn. Similar mark was on her sides, while blackened flesh clung to her temple like a patch of plague.

"Oho, is that a healing draught I see? Nice. Fancy ones too." The salves were forgotten the moment her attention caught the potion, hobbling to grab one of the healing potion sealed in fancy wax. She bit through it to pull out the cork, spitting it out alongside bits of wax before chugging the entire thing down.

She frowned rather fierce after the fact.

"Dead fucking gods, what's in that thing? Taste viler than the usual fare."

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

[GM Post]

"Eh, up to you. Certainly easier without, but I can work around that." Yvonne only spared a glance at the undergarment, her attention returning to the salve and ointment. Apply to the burned area, right? Then bandage it off. Her touch was firm but surprisingly gentle, having cared for more injuries than she could remember throughout her mercenary life. "Alright. Ain't too pretty, but it'll hold."

Now, her own things. The chain links had partially melted and fused. Likely would be easier to just break it off and sell it as raw material, buy a new one instead of fixing it.

There's some thumping from the ruined stairs. If people were to check, they'll find Kaito the fox using some rope to carefully lower a sizeable suitcase from the upper floor. A relatively heavy one too, judging from how he heaved and grunted. On a closer look, it was rather ornate with gleaming brass frames and decorated patterns over the leather... magical patterns.

"Guess what I've found in the wizard's room? There's an entire armoire too, filled with pompous clothing. I cant tell what these stuff are but maybe someone more magically inclined could find it useful?"

It's filled with... reagents. Bottles and vials of various liquid and powder and anything inbetween, with more variations of color than an entire parade. Plain rings and necklaces sat next to carving tools, as well as a number of dubious trinkets of wildly different origins. There's even half-completed drawing of various tesseracts that hurt the eyes when stared for a prolonged period, list of technical difficulties in neat handwriting jotted thoroughly next to them.

It's around this time the Fetch returned with the prince in tow, the latter failed to hide his stunned shock at the unusual lineup. Then he recognized Matilda and made a beeline for the orc, his visage for once filled by a boyish smile befitting his age.

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

"You heard the good doctor, elf. We all deserve a short break after the whole debacle!" Groaning from all the pain and fatigue, Yvonne forced herself up to find the pouch Solomon mentioned. A bit hard doing work with one arm mostly fucked, but she can pour water on it. The cold liquid felt nice to the burned surfaces.

She still need to cut herself out of the mail shirt at some point. It had melted rather badly.

"Dont be so grumpy now, most of us got shafted bad back there." A shove sent ruined plates and breakfast off the central table, clearing a room to place the healing supplies. "Show me where it hurt the worst. Gotta take care of each other now, yeah?"

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

[GM POst]

At the end of the day, Asevor was no proper battlemage. He had made one mistake of underestimating the sheer vicious might of wild magic, and now he paid the price. With the kinetic bombardment returned his way he failed to make any headway, the storm picking him up and yanking him away elsewhere. The old man had long since lost his orientation in the tumble, his pool drained dry and any attempt to peruse reconstructed spells fizzled from the dizzying treatment.

"No, this cant be- NO!" That was the last word of Asevor, grandmaster runesmith and self-proclaimed archmage, lost amidst the howling wind. His barrier already cracking as it slowly expire, and the addition of more explosives finally broke the camel's back. If there's any consolation to the man, he barely even felt anything in the end.

From an outsider's perspective, a series of violet explosions detonated high up in the sky. The cataclysmic weather phenomenon continued for a few seconds afterward until a tiny pinprick of crimson light shone like a fell star within before erupting in a massive, disconcerningly quiet sphere of crackling energy that momentarily stained the landscape sanguine for hundred of miles.

The silence lasted the exact same time for the shockwave to travel, a long crackling rumble that washed through the village and the keep. Along with the displaced air was the hailstones, blasted away by the explosion into a volley of high-speed projectiles. No one's left out there, thankfully, but there'd be no building standing entirely intact in the village after all these abuse.

Within the first floor of the keep was most of the party, barely made it through the bad weather and not a moment too soon. The structure shook, part of its southeast corner breaking off, but mostly held itself in place. Eventually the chaos subsided, sunlight streaming down from the huge gap in the slowly dissipating cloud up above.

"Oh yeah, we did shanked some mages on the walls. And I'm pretty sure mr hunter here personally killed an one-eyed bastard there. Body should still be near there, but likely in a bad state after all that." Yvonne continued her conversation with the fox like nothing's happening, turning a head to look at sunlight streaming to the ground outside. "So, Cedrick's out there still? I like him, shame if he's gone."

Cedar could be found halfway down the hill, crash landing somewhat eased by how muddy the entire place had turned out, but still not a gentle one.

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

Yvonne roused with a hitch, everything hurting like a motherfucker. Throbbing bruises, stinging burn, and myriad other issues all over the place - probably faster to list any part that wasn't hurting than otherwise. If anyone's wondering though, it's her left ear. That's the list. A single item of no importance.

That's all the distractions she could afford herself. The communicator pinged with the elf's voice, barely audible amidst the constant noise of whatever the fuck was going on since she fell unconscious. Either there's a warzone out there or it's a heavy hailstorm smack dab in early summer, and she wasn't sure which one was more sensible.

Anyway, rambling mind. Focus.

"The what- oh. Yeah, just give me a moment." Heavy groan, digging into a side pouch where the item in question was tucked in and mostly forgotten. Now, to wait for the ghost. To think that she'd be working in the side of a ghost. "You heard the elf, let's move. Dead gods, what the fuck-"

It's a hailstorm, yep. And so much worse than she expected. Looking back into the stable... they'll get mauled going through it, especially the hunter that looked like he'd kick the bucket any second now. The pay for this job better be fucking worth it.

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

[GM Post]

Asevor yelled in a mixture of anger, frustration, and pain as he was yanked off-course straight on to the keep's wall, followed by frosty ray that splash on the surface of his barrier, only for the ice to shatter the next time he got smashed on the wall, and then refrozen, over and over again. The barrier absorbed most of the kinetic force, but it's still somewhat rigid and the old wizard bruised all over from the repeated abuse. All culminated with a lightning strike, unerringly zapping him once he cleared the height of the fort.

The barrier's protection was better against the crackling energy, but the absorbed damage produced hairline cracks across the crystalline surface. On the flip side, there's no more obstacle to slam him at. Asevor had long since lost his sense of direction, but he picked a random one and beelined straight away. The wind fought to push him back, however his ring constantly shot kinetic blast to neutralize the gale and force open a path to escape through.

One last chance to try stop him, before he's too far to even be seen through the hailstorm.

In the stable not too far away, the wooden roof clattering dangerously from the constant barrage. But it'll hold... for now. Veronica was there, standing stalwart over the injured. The latter group consisted of Matilda, still swaddled in bandages with some recent blood splatter on her, Chounan who just woke up, unconscious Yvonne with rather unsighty burns, and a nearly dying Reinhold who got the brunt of the damage from Asevor's indiscriminate blast.

*****

"Other people... oh!" The prince perked up, hitting a fist to his palm. "The last few meals, he wasn't present anymore. Beside the maid there's two bored-looking guys in less fancy purple robe, and a rough-looking one-eyed bastard accompanying them. They never talk, but the sound of the door unlocking was about the same."

There, some more clues. What could possibly be done with the information so far? And could it be done just from within the prison? Just so, a voice could be heard from the crack. While the speaker likely stood before the metal cube, it was soundproofed very well. Unnaturally so, in fact. If not for the crack, even the hailstorm would barely register within.

"Anyone in there? This better not be another dead end."

Kaito, the fox. Where in the world did he went? No one know save for the man himself, but he's here now. Ready to help(?) to the best of his abilities. Probably.

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

[GM Post]

Asevor's countenance soured, twisting into a facade of rage. These vermins dare refuse his goodwill? Truly, violence was the only language they understood. If so, then he'll show them. Drained as he were, he still could had several tricks up his sleeve.

Explosion rocked him, the aftershock of the shockwave painfully rattling the old man's bones. Hairline cracks dotted the surface of the barrier, but otherwise it remained sturdy. Then there's the frost that latched on his lower half. That needed to go. Directing his ring downward, a blast of pure force shattered the ice layer - more shockwave to his legs, but he's now free. Floating straight up, he directed his fist as yet another ring activated at the impertinent little elf.

A healthy dose of mind-fray should keep her off his back for a moment.

He could stay, yes, but Asevor's still a coward at the core. Without another look he shot straight to the door, fully intending to abandon the scene to whatever fate it's doomed to. If nothing else, the detonation of the iron prison should be cathartic to watch from afar.

*****

"Asevor? Is that the wizard in purple?" Questioned the prince, a bit deflated that the Duchess wasn't present. But still, since they're unbothered so far the rescuers should be having it well in control. They only need to figure out how to finagle open the door. No pressure there...

"He's a nasty one, pardon my choice of words. I did tried escaping once, took hostage of the maid that came to clean. He sound bored when he said that I'm welcome to kill her, but then I'll need to survive on her flesh because they'll stop sending anyone with food or to clean. Can you believe that?" The prince shuddered at the memory, and how the maid in question had tearfully begged for her life. He had to let her go and behave from then on. What else could he do? "Ahem, anyway. There's no visual change to the door, but it does make some kind of low humming noise when it's opening. Took about... three seconds, I think? And the same noise but in backward when it's closed and locking. The runes wasn't visible at all though."

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

[GM Post]

"No, I dont think I will. I'm not that much of a fool." Asevor replied flatly to the elf. He was under no illusion that these people will not tear him limb from limb the very moment they got the chance to. To think that he, a mighty archmage, was reduced to the pathetic state of negotiating with imbeciles and halfwits... "As for you, rotten thrall, bring your master here or pipe down. I've no time to spare for foul abomination such as you."

Above, Solomon managed to slither into the prison box without much interference, though it seemed that his passing had progressed the red lines by a bit. There he could see more clearly the enchantment woven throughout in the rarer moment when the rainwater managed to slip past the block and trickle in, a veritable tapestry of runes skillfully woven into one another that it's difficult to tell where one began and where another end. Illusion and concealment intertwined with the spreading red lines of the last resort, with only the supposed door having different pattern to it. For one, the kill switch was strongly concentrated there. Additionally, a section was notably missing. If the missing part could be completed, there should be some change to it. Likely disabling the kill switch and opening the door, for surely the occupant still have daily needs that must be met?

Now the big question was, what would the pattern look like? Did Asevor store it specifically by memorization, or did he had it written down somewhere?

"...whoa. You're not with the kidnappers, are you? Did my father sent you? I've never seen you before." Somehow the prince seemed more excited than distressed at the moment. Perhaps he believed that rescue was imminent? "Is lady Antigone here? Is she dealing with the enemy wizard?"