The Tanner's Flag Post - Oziah (19/10/21)
Oct 23, 2021 13:42:40 GMT
Jaezred Vandree, Delilah Daybreaker, and 4 more like this
Post by Oziah Daybreaker on Oct 23, 2021 13:42:40 GMT
She didn’t ask for her old room back - she can afford the suites now. They’re a touch larger, with a proper bed and décor that at least tries to be tasteful. She’ll send for the things still left at the Flourished Hook, and perhaps arrange for some other things to be shipped over. She’s settling back in at Fort Ettin for what could be a long while. May as well make it a bearable existence.
She hangs her sword on the wall next to the small closet and settles on the bed to polish her splint mail. Between the fight with the beguiled orcs and the second bout with Delilah it needed a clean, and she needed something to occupy her hands if not her thoughts. Night falls around the Fort and in the flickering candlelight she works a soft rag over each individual splint until the adamantine gleams.
They had found the cave with little trouble; the flag post was heavy and had been dragged through the wet dirt leaving a trail obvious enough for a blind man to see. They should’ve spotted the trap from that alone.
The cave had held a small number of orcs - settlers from outside the Dawnlands. Varga wasted no time charging to attack and Felix and Ivan had followed suit without hesitation.
(That’s what you get for working with untrained fighters. No discipline. No chain of command.)
Oziah found herself attempting diplomacy possibly for the first time ever in her life. That should have been the second sign that something wasn’t right but at that point she just wanted to find the damn flag and get the hell out of there. They slew all but two of the orcs and Oziah offered them a chance to surrender. The fight was beneath her.
Celina attempted to pocket some of the loot without splitting it evenly across the party. She might be a simple shop keep but she’s clearly also a thief. Oziah ground her teeth until her jaw popped. The entire job was beneath her.
The orcs had pointed to a small tunnel opening up to another cave. The flag was in there, on the missing flag post, suspended over a small pool of water and decorated with some sort of religious orc symbols. Deimos was left behind to keep an eye on the remaining orcs. Faust “investigated some rocks” in a poor attempt to cover the fact that his ancient legs couldn’t quite carry him anymore. Felix dove into the pool without provocation or plan, and Ivan simply flung himself across the water to cling to the pole like a koala to a tree. Oziah pinched the bridge of her nose to stave off the beginning headache. Then a strange voice called out.
For a second Oziah thought they’d somehow encountered The Collector - mostly known for terrorizing Port First with strange statues in abandoned houses - but this was clearly someone who didn’t mind showing his face. Langston Farstep was annoyingly handsome and had come to deliver what must have been the most rehearsed monologue in the history of Kantas.
This was the man Delilah was hunting? Hells, if she could bring the Pale Daughter Langston’s head, that’d surely be something.
There was a kraken in the pool, there was sovereign glue on the flag post, you’ve all been getting in my way, blah blah blah. Oziah had had enough, and made to end his smarmy existence, only to run face first into a Wall of Force. And then her blood ran ice cold as Faust stood up from the pile of rocks. They exchanged words but Oziah didn’t catch any of them over the roaring of blood in her ears. And then Langston leveled his crossbow, and that was it.
The rest was a blur. She dispelled the magical barrier and Ivan ripped the flag post apart. Langston was gone, and Faust was nothing more than a small pile of ashes on the floor and a poetry book left behind in the dust.
The others shouted about Revivify and Resurrection, but there was no body to revive.
“He wouldn’t want it.”
True Resurrection then? Or even a Wish? Queen Merla had the power to cast such spells, surely. What of the Court of Rebirth? Perhaps they could-
“He wouldn’t. Want it. Leave him.”
Her voice echoed in the cave. She pocketed her fair share of the gold with a pointed look at Celina and mounted Deimos without looking at Ivan as he carefully gathered the ashes in a small chest. She rode back to Fort Ettin alone.
Now she hangs her gleaming splint mail in the closet and pours herself a glass from an expensive bottle of red. She bends down over her desk, staring into the collection of flickering flames.
“Archon Hadir. Amaury Jehanel. Leomar Maihl.”
She drains her glass and blows out the candles.
“Langston Farstep.”
She hangs her sword on the wall next to the small closet and settles on the bed to polish her splint mail. Between the fight with the beguiled orcs and the second bout with Delilah it needed a clean, and she needed something to occupy her hands if not her thoughts. Night falls around the Fort and in the flickering candlelight she works a soft rag over each individual splint until the adamantine gleams.
They had found the cave with little trouble; the flag post was heavy and had been dragged through the wet dirt leaving a trail obvious enough for a blind man to see. They should’ve spotted the trap from that alone.
The cave had held a small number of orcs - settlers from outside the Dawnlands. Varga wasted no time charging to attack and Felix and Ivan had followed suit without hesitation.
(That’s what you get for working with untrained fighters. No discipline. No chain of command.)
Oziah found herself attempting diplomacy possibly for the first time ever in her life. That should have been the second sign that something wasn’t right but at that point she just wanted to find the damn flag and get the hell out of there. They slew all but two of the orcs and Oziah offered them a chance to surrender. The fight was beneath her.
Celina attempted to pocket some of the loot without splitting it evenly across the party. She might be a simple shop keep but she’s clearly also a thief. Oziah ground her teeth until her jaw popped. The entire job was beneath her.
The orcs had pointed to a small tunnel opening up to another cave. The flag was in there, on the missing flag post, suspended over a small pool of water and decorated with some sort of religious orc symbols. Deimos was left behind to keep an eye on the remaining orcs. Faust “investigated some rocks” in a poor attempt to cover the fact that his ancient legs couldn’t quite carry him anymore. Felix dove into the pool without provocation or plan, and Ivan simply flung himself across the water to cling to the pole like a koala to a tree. Oziah pinched the bridge of her nose to stave off the beginning headache. Then a strange voice called out.
For a second Oziah thought they’d somehow encountered The Collector - mostly known for terrorizing Port First with strange statues in abandoned houses - but this was clearly someone who didn’t mind showing his face. Langston Farstep was annoyingly handsome and had come to deliver what must have been the most rehearsed monologue in the history of Kantas.
This was the man Delilah was hunting? Hells, if she could bring the Pale Daughter Langston’s head, that’d surely be something.
There was a kraken in the pool, there was sovereign glue on the flag post, you’ve all been getting in my way, blah blah blah. Oziah had had enough, and made to end his smarmy existence, only to run face first into a Wall of Force. And then her blood ran ice cold as Faust stood up from the pile of rocks. They exchanged words but Oziah didn’t catch any of them over the roaring of blood in her ears. And then Langston leveled his crossbow, and that was it.
The rest was a blur. She dispelled the magical barrier and Ivan ripped the flag post apart. Langston was gone, and Faust was nothing more than a small pile of ashes on the floor and a poetry book left behind in the dust.
The others shouted about Revivify and Resurrection, but there was no body to revive.
“He wouldn’t want it.”
True Resurrection then? Or even a Wish? Queen Merla had the power to cast such spells, surely. What of the Court of Rebirth? Perhaps they could-
“He wouldn’t. Want it. Leave him.”
Her voice echoed in the cave. She pocketed her fair share of the gold with a pointed look at Celina and mounted Deimos without looking at Ivan as he carefully gathered the ashes in a small chest. She rode back to Fort Ettin alone.
Now she hangs her gleaming splint mail in the closet and pours herself a glass from an expensive bottle of red. She bends down over her desk, staring into the collection of flickering flames.
“Archon Hadir. Amaury Jehanel. Leomar Maihl.”
She drains her glass and blows out the candles.
“Langston Farstep.”