Port Lorrel- Puppet Masters (part 2)

[Alberich]

Udo had been aiming for the back end of the behemoth, but in his bruised and breathless state, he'd jerked the barrel and managed a lucky headshot just a few feet from Sensei. That wasn't how he was going to remember it, though.

He could see only hazily that Tamina seemed to have won her fight. That was all to the good. He sagged back.

* * *

Tim nodded in silence at what he saw. Deception and stratagem were legitimate in war...

"He was just an ordinary man picked for a greater purpose, kobold. An instrument to my will. A conduit for my power. I'll have a hundred like him before the month is out, a thousand by the year's end. An unstoppable tide to stamp out you animals, and everyone else you ever loved."

...mmm-hm. Out in the streets this devil-worshipper hid behind honeyed words and charitable deeds. Here at the crisis, he didn't bother even pretending. Tim felt more scorn than horror or pity. He kept his face impassive. That was getting easier.

[Browncoat]

Angrist sneezed. He was covered in the dust the Matriarch had crumbled into. He noticed even the gore which had splattered the ground was now dust.
{How does that work? Loss of moisture? But why would that happen? Where would the moisture go?}
As his legs folded beneath him, Angrist realized his mind was wandering from weariness.
{Haven't felt this worn out in years. Why would?-the magic! I haven't used it in so long...most of the time I'm trying to hold it back. No wonder I'm exhausted}
Angrist staggered to his feet. If the battle had gone too much longer, he wouldn't have even been able to stand. He was vulnerable and he hated the feeling.
{Gorramit. I need my regular strength back.}
A memory flickered. An idea followed. Angrist sat back down and calmed himself. He'd read of a technique which could transfer vitality into magic and boost the user's spell power for a brief time. Now he was attempting to reverse the technique. Angrist felt the balance within him shift and the remnants of magic drained away, but his muscles felt renewed.
Angrist stood up again feeling like himself. In his calm state, the magesight didn't even require any focus. Udo was out, Khoo was tired, and Tamina...was wearing the Ralkin amulet. That couldn't be good. Angrist ran toward her, sneezing as he ran.

[OOC: So Angrist has no magic left in the tank and because of the technique he used it'll take longer than usual to recharge. But physically, he's fine except for a few scratches. Also, I'm trying to establish that the way he sees the ambient magic isn't actually a spell, but his inhibitors will obscure it (he's not wearing any right now)]

[Jack Rothwell]

"Pay the Old Man no mind, Tim." Eli said lightly, as Aleron stepped away from the device. "He likes to rile up the primitives, you said they get stupid when they're angry, right Aleron?"

"That's true of all living things, but especially with kobolds." Aleron intoned in his quavering, high voice. He pulled back his hood to massage the pale dome of his head as he addressed the newcomer. "My apologies for the deception, Brother Tim, it was necessary to lure the assassins out, and it also served as an... evaluation of your loyalty."

"With everything that's happened, and the position we're playing, you had every reason to cut and run or double-deal, but you didn't. You're one of us Tim, human or not, and you've proven worthy of a look behind the curtain."

The Ralkin leader stood to one side, revealing the source of the glare in an otherwise dark chamber. The Priest found himself suddenly recalling an old robbery that had happened in Goriel. Before him was an altar some six feet in height, it's body was twisted, it's base like the roots of a black tree, sat in the plinth, a basin filled with a dark red liquid, was a dark-green orb, some eighteen inches across, etched with a pattern of red swirls.

"The Altar of Sienya." Aleron said. "The key that unlocks every door."

.....

Tamina had moved on from the minced-up mess that had been the Ralkin leader's puppet and moved on to punching the crates by the time Angrist arriving at the warehouse. The kobold was so blinded by anger she didn't hear the monk approach until he tore off the chain was that warping her mood. Even so, it took a few seconds for Tamina to calm down, or stop screaming curses in her native tongue."

"...als akkir grahrah shiiliita*! Not him! Not him!" The kobold turned around and began panting for breath. She sank to the floor, not looking at Angrist as her head touched her knees.

"Wasn't the leader, just a puppet..."


*-Use your imagination.

[Alberich]

As Udo flopped and Tamina cursed -- someone else clapped across the newly-silent square.

Looking over there, the adventurers saw the dumpy, balding little Eisenfaust sub-chief they'd met on the seashore. Next to him were several robed bodyguards with little to say or do except clap along with the boss. Standing next to them was a tall, dark figure, who was not himself an Eisenfaust operative, but who could be roused after hours for enough gold.

The applause stopped. "What a great coincidence to see the lucky winners here!" said not-Jones. "As part of a secret random drawing, you have already won some fantastic prizes. First, every one of you gets a free healing and massage therapy courtesy of Port Lorrel's finest lifemage, Dr. Rabbitfoot!"

"No massage," said the dark-skinned mage.

"Okay, no man-ssage, who wants one of them, anyway? But you all got a discount at Maggie's after it's over, if you want it, and one lucky winner has won a most special spectacular prize. This is indeed your lucky evening." He lifted a black bag with handles and some Tsuirakuan characters embroidered on it. "And the lucky winner is" -- he pointed around randomly as if playing eeny-meeny-miney-moe -- "you!" He pointed straight at Khoo, and crooked a finger to beckon him over. "This is, as we like to say, an offer that you cannot refuse."

Khoo approached uncertainly and received the bag. From the clink it would appear to have some kind of bottles or jars inside.

"Well," said the man, "that is all my business for now, and I am sure your own business will suggest itself to you as the night goes on. See you all at Maggie's!" He and his men were gone in a twinkling.

Rabbitfoot, the well-tipped lifemage, had already gone to the worst-looking of the adventurers -- Udo, by a long shot -- and was fixing him up as well as he could be fixed. He was a man of few words, but it didn't take many words, if any, to make it clear that he was not joining these strangers in any fights at all, but only giving them a quick patch-up and then back to bed. (Or whatever he did late o' nights.)

Khoo, checking the contents of the bag, found it full of items he recognized -- powders, liquids, and glassware, something like a child's chemistry set; that is, for the kind of older, anarchic child who liked bright lights, bad smells, and loud noises. With these ingredients he could blow open an iron safe or demolish a small cottage, or get a sword out a stone without being the true king.

(The original owner had gone to Khoo's school, in fact, but a regrettable taste for gambling in Port Lorrel had lost him his shirt, his spellbook, his crystal ball, and these chemicals; and what he'd had to do to recover his ticket to Tsuirakushiti was something he'd rather not be reminded of. As in, ever.)

By the time Rabbitfoot had finished healing everyone who needed it, and departed with alacrity, Jargalan and Drusia returned to find their help was not needed. And that in fact the real battle hadn't even started.

* * *

"The Altar of Sienya." Aleron said. "The key that unlocks every door."

"So, what does it actually do, then?" asked Tim. "And what do we do now?" The crisis of the moment might be over, but if that elf wasn't dead, then the true crisis was far from over. And he didn't really want to stay around a devil-worshippers' altar, lest he be called upon to make sacrifices on it, or to meet Aleron's true masters.

[Jack Rothwell]

Tamina had composed herself enough to be back and her feet and wandering around outside the warehouse. She'd been relatively unhurt during the fight, and most of the damage she had taken had been self-repaired before her disposal of Aleron's stooge. She was, however, an unsettling sight as she walked up to the returning elves with bloodstains running up her arms and plastered across her chest.

"Wasn't him." She said, by way of greeting. "Bastard was never here."

.....


"So, what does it actually do, then?" asked Tim. "And what do we do now?"

Aleron exchanged a brief look with his subordinate before he answered the Priest's questions.

"This-" He gestured to the mana-saturated artefact. "-is a conduit for the most powerful form of mind-control in the known world. It creates a link between the bound and this source."

"It's something else." Eli added, his tone was one of quiet reverence; something Tim had never heard from the half-elf. "People linked to the altar are oblivious to it, anything told to them by the one in control they believe, more than that, them make themselves believe, Brother. This is faith made real."

"-and will be used to right many wrongs. Lucas Logan, for instance, a selfish, cruel, murderous man who was content to let the poverty stricken starve is now labouring to help them under the deep conviction it was his own idea." Aleron murmured. "A power, perhaps, which could be used to great benefit to your church... but that is a conversation for a later time. I have good reason to believe those damnable elves followed you to this location. Since they seem reluctant to attack it is wise to assume they return to their friends to ready a stronger effort. And so we have preparations to make. Valja!"

A loud grunting noise the corner of the room drew the Priest's immediate attention. What at first glance could've been mistaken for a pile of misshapen sack unfolded itself like a squatting ape and shambled over to the old half-elf. Eli put a reassuring hand on Tim's shoulder as the scar-covered, orge-like creature approached.

"I had the same look when I first saw him." The younger humanoid said. "He's a former subordinate of the old man who met a messy end. Aleron found a use for what was left of him. He won't harm us without his say-so... other people are a different story."

"Guard." Aleron said to his monster, then made his way to the door of the underground room, gesturing for his pupils to follow. His short cane clacking on the stone floor as they left. Eli shut the door and murmured a few syllables before he released the door handle.

"There are a manner of defences.. traps that I've acquired over my travels which I've relocated to this 'museum'." The Ralkin leader continued as they wound their way to the ground floor. "Most have been placed and armed, although a couple require a personal touch. A task suitable for a pair of apt apprentices."

"What about the Black Guard?"

"I sent word to the bound banditwoman, although I doubt she'll row her way to shore and find an outpost in time. No, we will dispose of them personally Eli, they've proven a thorn in my side for far too long..." His face darkened. "...and I want to see the futility in their faces before they meet their end."

[Browncoat]

As Tamina relayed the bad news, Angrist grabbed up his weights. A quick glance showed him that everyone would be fine so he slipped away into the shadows. He had a lot to think about and the best way to do it was practicing his art. More than a few trees and boulders were about to take serious damage.

[OOC: I know it makes more sense to keep the group together, but Angrist is moody about the last fight. He's going to work some energy out and he doesn't want anyone else around. It may be worth noting that he still has the amulet from when he took it off Tamina. If anybody wants to do anything with that.]
[OOC2: I'll be posting what he's up to, but probably not today.]

[Alberich]

Jargalan saw Angrist starting to leave. "Sneaking off so soon?" he asked. His voice hinted, rather than saying, bock-bock-bock-b'gawwwwk! This was grossly unfair. Angrist had been looking down the throat of death while Jargalan was shooting fleeing men in the back. But no one looked to Jargalan for fairness.

"We know where the real Aleron is, and his little friend too, and it's not that far away. Right now is just the perfect time to show them how much we love jokes, tricks, larks, fun, and especially surprises!" The dozen-or-more lives he had just ended didn't affect the teasing, joyful lilt in his voice one bit.

In reality they'd seen only Eli enter that tower, but really, the place practically had "unimaginative human wizard tower trope" inscribed on the doorposts, or better still, drawn in big pictures for silly animals who couldn't read. Impressing the livestock. Of course he was there.

Udo, elated at the news, hefted the last of the mana rifles and recovered a knife and sword from fallen Black Guards. "Maybe that's where they keep that altar we were reading about, the one I want to smash into little pieces!"

* * *

"...and I want to see the futility in their faces before they meet their end."

Tim said nothing about this humane sentiment. Between that, the infernal monster he'd summoned at the square, and the desecrated corpse he was using for a guardian...what was to be said? For all Eli's softening words, this priest of hell was really making no effort to conceal his nature. He might as well change his name to "Gideon Crawle."

Tim didn't even make faces. The notion that the Church would use this engine of demonic possession on the Faithful or even the Heathen didn't rate a comment or even a sneer. There was one thing that did, though. "Damnable elves, you said? There was more than one?" For he'd only seen the one, one he'd recognized from Goriel.

[Jack Rothwell]

"Drusia, and the one who called himself Jack. I saw him blasting troops with a staff, he blew an unscheduled hole in the warehouse." Eli said in reply to Tim question. "He was a pretty tough bastard, but no match for Aleron. No match for me, if it comes to that."

They were following the winding staircase up the tower to the next level, there were seven in all, including the ground floor. For the most part, they were furnished with old relics like the layout in the entrance hall, although they also passed through a servants quarters and a library on their ascension. After the third floor Aleron paused periodically to mutter an incantation or to pass his hand over some exotic-looking object planted surreptitiously for Gods-knew what reason.

At the sixth he drew to a halt, nodding wordlessly to his subordinate before proceeding on alone. He headed to the steps at the far end of the chamber and was lost from view.

"This is where we take a break." Eli said, although the tension in his face suggested that relaxing was the last thing on his mind. The room he began pacing in was intricately decorated, at the corners of each wall saw thick glass cases containing huge carved stone tablets. The figures set in them were of simplistic design, soldiers bearing shields and long spears, lined as neatly as soldiers on parade. The walls themselves were a work of art, some renowned painter's depiction of a sermon, a crowd of figures stood in attendance to listen to the words of a bearded figure standing atop a hill. In contrast to the stone the people were realistic, life-like, almost eerily so.

"There's a trap in here that requires a personal touch." He said by way of explanation, then shook his arms as if trying to dislodge his jangling nerves. He laughed. "I never would've thought when we first met we'd wind up fighting the child-killers to liberate our species. It must be a lot to take in, Brother... how are you feeling?"

.....

"Maybe that's where they keep that altar we were reading about, the one I want to smash into little pieces!"

"Hope so." Tamina said quietly. "Shouldn't waste any more time, can't let Aleron get away again. But I might need..." The kobold's hand went to her throat and it suddenly dawned on her she was no longer wearing the necklace. Someone had taken it off her. A spike of irritation lanced it's way into her heart.

"Hey!" She snapped. "Where's the amulet gone? Need it to kill Aleron!"

[Alberich]

"It must be a lot to take in, Brother... how are you feeling?"

Well, how should Tim be feeling? Disgusted and angry by turns, though deep inside he knew this black magic could seize your passions like drunkenness...There was a safer answer and a true one.

"Well, I'm feeling curious," he said. "I remember that Drusia and her bullying and shoving. Typical elf behavior I figured, just like in the Scriptures. But - I mean - I don't really know anything about her. Or this 'Jack the elf' either. Funny name for an elf. What can they really do? What are they like? What do we watch for?"

In truth he remembered more about Drusia than he was saying, how she'd fought resolutely against the Outlaw Clan Gyermanov and their disgusting, blasphemous sub-chieftain, or how she'd shown decisiveness in dealing with the last of them while Sister Rose dithered. There was something admirable in that. Could it be he would grow desperate enough to hope for some glimmer of nobility beneath her insufferable elf arrogance? But before Eli he had to keep his hates to the forefront and his hopes well hidden.

As they talked he looked around the frescoes. The artwork, it might be a scene from after the Liberation, when the prophets spoke and men listened. But he wasn't really a bookish kind of priest, and couldn't tell one prophet from another without a program.

[Drusia]

I do not roll my eyes, but I want to. Cheap tricks with body doubles and illusions? I'm disappointed in Aleron.

"Back to the tower then?" I say. I head that way, not waiting for an answer. "If one of you can crack the magical protections on the tower, I can teleport inside." And take one person with me, if I choose. The question is, who is the best person to take with me?

-- Drusia