Among the Shadows

"..."

Hawk said nothing as she watched the strange human's antics. Inwardly, on the other hand, she felt despair.

The revolution is doomed, my weapons or not.

"...Now you're making a little more sense." Gregor, still reeling from trying to catch up with the last train of thought, found himself placed back on more familiar ground by Calis's next words. But even though she probably wasn't as mad as he first suspected, he still found her optimism misplaced.

"Sorry, lass. Missed my chance long ago. Only thing that'll put a smile on my face now - maybe - is seeing Galdur's thrice-damned corpse burn and his soul sent to the Hells permanently." He shook his head and gestured at the newcomers, who were still waiting for an audience with Crail. "Your act deserves a better audience, anyway. At least the taller folk appreciated it."

edited 15th Jan '15 7:37:32 AM by Pyrite

Phantom kept walking for a few more seconds before stopping and glancing around him. He knew for sure he was being watched, but couldn't tell where from. However it was easy to tell that whoever was there was clearly not just some random undead, as those are just not smart enough to hide themselves properly, most would only be able to just attack whatever they see.

"I know you are here. Show yourself, unless you would rather have me warn the rest of the resistance of your presence." he coldly said in order to intimidate his watcher and already with a hand on the handle of his sword, ready for combat "If you reveal yourself now, I at least may have some mercy."

edited 15th Jan '15 9:11:36 AM by FullMoon

While waiting for His Majesty, Hausier decided now would be the best chance to forge an alliance with the paladin. He stuck to dimmer light in his approach, but made no attempt to hide his destination.

"My Lady Vale," Hausier smiled with an aristocratic bow, "I regret to discover we have not been properly introduced. I am Messere Pan d'Hausier, son of Ser Klaxon d'Hausier, the renowned Cavalier of Patiraj. Tis a privilege to be greeted with such welcoming arms, and such a radiant smile. You act as a grand marshal that all your Order ought to proceed."

edited 15th Jan '15 9:37:41 AM by TheodoreHastings

Gale lightly chuckled at the goings on. Between Miss "Lord Fancybottom"'s ravings to Pan predictably living up to the girl's imitations of a noble, Gale couldn't help himself but laugh. But what really caught his eye was his fellow transplants, the Warforged and the mixed elf. The metal figure ha wandered off, presumably just making rounds to take time. Or perhaps something had caught his eye? Either way tailing them would just lead to either boredom or trouble, and Gale wasn't exactly ready for either this early in the journey. Which left the elf.

His eyes slid around to observe the woman. He had noticed her join the group earlier, her quiet attitude and glum expression made her easy to ignore or overlook to others. Gale smiled inwardly. To someone like him, she might as well have been running around covered in bells and screaming like a banshee. Though noticing her was easy, actually getting a read on her was going to be somewhat harder.

Deciding to rectify that, he followed her eyes and after walking over, with a slight hop and spin he plopped down cross legged in front of her, clearly intending to startle.

"You've been real quiet, you know?" he simply said, still smiling his smile.

Calis slanted to the side with an oddly flat smile. "Ow. Which is to say you didn't appreciate it? That hurts, Mister Blackhand."

"Two years ago, I might've laughed, even. These days, though? Not much left to smile about here in Fahamel." Gregor pointed up at the slate-grey sky, looming and overcast without a single trace of sunlight.

Hawk's eyes snapped to the sound of the voice, her muscles tensing, ready for action.

Rather than an attacker, however, she found herself confronted with a sitting human who bore a slightly eerie resemblance to a drow at first glance, between the dark skin and the white braids. The black hair and rounded ears told another story, however, and after a moment, she relaxed.

"I have nothing to say," she said simply, looking off to one side and giving a barely noticeable shrug.

Calis actually frowned. "It's not like I don't understand what you're saying... It's just, maybe that's a little too much gloom, ya know? Even if you can't see it, the sun's still there. No matter how much power he attains, Galdur will never be able to take that away. When you look at things that way, how can you not find a smile? The clouds will pass whether you're happy or sad. The only difference is how much more sadness Galdur can bring before then."

Then, with a smile, Calis added, "And you're the one who gets to decide that!"

"Enough." Gregor had given up all pretense at diplomacy by now. "Feel free to lecture me on good cheer when all your comrades have been torn apart by zombies and you know you'll never see your homeland again. But until then, lass, I'll trouble you to take your smile and shove it where the sun doesn't shine - which is to say, anywhere else in this gods-forsaken land, as long as it's away from me!"

The chat was over. Gregor rose from the bench, armour clanking, and trundled towards the waiting area.

He needed another drink.

Gale didn't drop his smile when he saw her tense, but for a moment he worried about being attacked. And now that he had a good look at her, he knew that he wouldn't have enjoyed it too much. But the way she tensed and only really relaxed once she gave him a once over told him she wasn't a stranger to fighting, and she wasn't just some shy waif. But how much of her act was her being guarded, and how much of it was genuine apathy, he still wasn't too sure.

"Nobody really has nothing to say," he responded, ignoring her attempt to brush him off. "They just either don't want to say or don't know how to say." He stood up and offered a wrapped hand. "My name is Gale. Would you be willing to offer your name in exchange?"

"Ooohh... Way to oversell it, Calis..." As Gregor walked away, there was little more Calis could do than complain. "I'm gonna call you 'The Grumpy One'..." she muttered quietly under her breath. Sighing, she took the moment to glance at her surroundings. She hoped that no one noticed her floundering her conversation with Gregor, but at the same time she wasn't quite sure what to do now.

Rarkell had a hard time considering how to respond to the Warforged's challenge. The main point being that Rarkell had zero reason to believe the Warforged would keep its word and not attack him; and that if the Warforged alerted the defenders at the fort to Rarkell's presence, there was a very good chance he would not survive this even if he could get away from the Warforged. Counter to that though was what remained of Rarkell's honor as a former warrior. To slink away from a challenger as if knowing he couldn't win would have been unbecoming of him as a barbarian. Then again in the other way, Rarkell never had to deal with a situation quite like this as a barbarian... Well, there was that time the big caravan guard yelled out a challenge while all his friends readied crossbows back at the wagons.

"Somehow, I doubt that" Rarkell said to reveal his position to the Warforged; his statement referring to the Warforged's claims that it might have mercy on him. Rarkell did not move from his position or readied stance, but his aura of cold started to expand as he put some energy into it; that way, he would only have to pump some more in to switch on the aura's slowing effect if he needed it.

Phantom looked towards the direction of the voice and saw his confronter, the undead remains of a Lizardfolk. It was an unexpected sight for sure, even more so that he was intelligent compared to the demented undead he had to confront on his way to the fortress. As expected, the lizard was already prepared to attack, having the Warforged in his sight ready to fire a spell at the slightest provocation.

"A Lizardfolk skeleton, an intelligent one, even" said Phantom, his tone seemed to convey a bare minimum of surprise in it "One of the many raised by Galdur I assume. The necromancer certainly wasted no time."

The Warforged still had a strong grip on the handle of his sword, he was expecting an attack at any moment and was ready to move in order to dodge it and retaliate appropriatelly. Intelligent or not, it was just another undead for him to bring back to the realm of the dead and he wouldn't hesitate to do so if he showed himself to be uncooperative.

"...Hakire, of Joransway," she answered quietly, placing her hands flat against the front of her thighs and bending stiffly at the waist, giving the "proper bow" that the monks had taught her, before gingerly shaking the offered hand. "...Most people call me 'Hawk.' It's easier."

Hawk was far too polite (and not nearly confident enough) to say it, but she was almost certain she had the human pegged for a gossip. The sort that liked to know everyone's business, and the sort who was least suited to hearing it.

Those in the courtyard would soon find themselves greeted by the presence of none other than Crail himself◊. Nodding his head in acknowledgement to those who he knew as being part of the resistance already, Crail approached and addressed the newest members of his force "I apologize for not meeting with you sooner, I've been receiving word from our scouts that Galdur's forces are mobilizing. I am honoured that you have all chosen to ally yourselves with me. Aid from bordering countries has been rather limited of late and every person able to provide their skills is appreciated more than you can possibly believe."

Before the head of the resistance could continue, there was a cry from the walls.

"Uh, Milord? There's a warforged outside the walls talkin' to something with glowin' blue eyes. Normally I'd tell the lads to open fire, but I don't really know what the warforged's talkin' to."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Crail pointed to the Dwarf who'd let everyone in moments ago and said "Korgrim, take Alexia and Gregor and go see what in the seven hells is going on out there."

Shouldering a sizable ornate hammer, Korgrim◊ growled "Right, you heard him. Let's go see what's goin' on out there."

Rhialis wondered for a moment what the warforged she met outside the gates had encountered... however, the garrison seemed ready to deal with anything at the moment, and the Lord of the Keep had already sent people to handle it. If it was more serious... well, she would be involved anyway.

Deciding to let that matter rest as it is, she approaches Lord Crail, dropping to one knee before him "Well met, Milord. I am Rhialis Strumkeep, member of the Rangers of the Grey Oak. While my people prepare to fortify the borders and keep monsters from prowling the forests which are our haunts, I have come to offer my blade and expertise in your service"

With those words, and possibly the Lord's blessing, she rises to her feet "I'd like to speak as soon as possible of the strategy to fight this evil, retake and purify your land as well as what I can do to fight out in the field"

It was unfortunate that Rarkell didn't have lips or eyebrows anymore; only his sigh could convey the irritation and anger Rarkell felt. "I am not one of Galdur's minions. I am searching for my master, who I thought might be in hiding in this castle" Rarkell said, sounding a bit apathetic in his tone; partially because of the unnatural nature of his lung-less voice, and partially because he was annoyed at trying to explain in futility once again that he was not a bad undead.

"She could have never gotten in the front gate, but I thought she might have snuck in through the unguarded grate at the bottom of the side wall" Rarkell continued, thinking that maybe overtly pointing out the weakness in the castle's defense would go towards showing his sincerity.

edited 16th Jan '15 1:30:54 AM by FirockFinion

"Good. I've been itching to hit something." Gregor, still annoyed, joined Korgrim and Alexia as they walked through the keep's gates.

Phantom looked at the unguarded grate, it was hard to believe the resistance would already have such a glaring weakness in their defenses considering just how much of a disadvantage they already were in this war. He would have to point out to the guards later, nonetheless the undead lizardfolk seemed to be sincere enough in his eyes.

"I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. Your master is most likely not here, so you should leave before someone else uncovers your location." he said, taking a small pause as he tried to rationalize the whole situation "... Unless you have further reasons to come to the resistance's base. I imagine you can't be very fond of Galdur if you decided to come here."

Even though he was aware of how an undead was forced to obey the orders of their masters, the lizardfolk's idea was nothing short of suicidal and he must've been aware of it. Galdur likely was the one responsible for his life being taken, either him or his actual master, and him being spying on the fortress likely meant the former.

Gale held the hand a few seconds longer before letting go. That definitely was no courtly bow, and the handshake felt awkward in a way. And he was sure he felt a few calluses catch his wrappings briefly. Laborer of some kind at least, and somewhat not used to interacting. He took it as a challenge. And since the likelihood of him getting his head cleaved off for pushing for information was at an all time low, Gale figured that it would be amusing to see how far he could push. Or at the very least, annoy the quiet woman.

"Well Hawk, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm quite curious," he said with a slight tilt of his head, ignoring the Resistance leader for the moment. "What brings you to this land? Everyone has their reasons to fight after all."

At least Lord Crail's arrival was something to draw Calis's attention. Upon hearing that something was beyond the walls, she rushed to the ramparts.

The soldiers there were naturally keeping a keen eye on the goings on in the field, at least now that they've finally noticed. Taking hold of her Farsight Dagger, Calis peered in the direction the guards were eyeing. It looked like the warforged was in a sort of standoff. It didn't look to be a fight just yet, but it clearly wasn't a simple chat with an old friend, either.

As to the other party, thanks to the incredible powers of Farsight, Calis could easily make out the figure's skeletal features, but she didn't recognize the race. Weird, alien anatomy wasn't really one of her specialties, and all she really had to go on was a vague, cloaked skeletal structure. She couldn't tell what the figure was doing with his hand, but she guessed it was something menacing.

Glancing below as the intercept party was heading out, she shouted down to them, "Hey! It looks like some kinda... skelly magey thingy! I think it's getting ready to attack! Be ready for hostile magic!"

"Money," she told him bluntly. "A resistance needs soldiers, and soldiers need weapons and armor. Usually," she added.

The gentryman whipped around as King Crail entered the courtyard. At last! He said a brief but a polite farewell to the paladin and rushed towards the resistance leader.

Hausier almost skid to a halt and dropped to a knee. He didn't care that his zaffre cloak was bound to be stained with mud, though he quietly scolded himself for allowing it; what good were expensive clothes if they fail to make a good impression. He would have to deal with it later.

"Your Majesty, I am Pan d'Hausier, son of Ser Klaxon d'Hausier. I am here to pledge my life and resources to you, just as my father once did for yours many years ago."

Hausier never acknowledged the issue outside Highcastle; it had nothing to do with him. Instead he trailed Fahamel's king like a pup, less than happy that a ranger nobody was doing the same.

"I too must speak with you, Your Majesty; there are some effective weapons I have funded that will prove invaluable to our cause."

Keep Gates

Gregor looked back up at the ramparts - it was that annoying girl from before, yelling from the ramparts once again - and this time in earnest. And as much as Gregor would've liked to ignore her completely, there was something in her words that made his hair stand on end.

Skelly... magey... thingy?

"Sounds like a lich," he muttered, turning to his fellow dwarf and the human paladin. "If what she says is true, I'm turning them into slag and bonemeal if they so much as wave a finger."

edited 16th Jan '15 9:47:26 PM by Pyrite