Determined to try and track down the elusive leader of the Jaaith strike, the four half-qhal gathered their weapons, secured the raker, and hurried off into Agahir. Some discussion had led to the decision to strike at the safe house Gilbert had tracked Percinious' midnight contacts to, rather than tackle the respectable-sized main enclave of Hadragan in the city.
Therefore,
an hour and quarter after the Firearrow had signaled the attack, they gathered
in the shadows opposite a small and unobtrusive house. Two-storied, it had a
no windows on the ground floor, and the ones at the front were barred. Mehmet
cast Mindspeech, and Gilbert worked his way around behind the place.
At the back, there were three windows and no door at all. One window showed a dim light and the one at the far end - shuttered rather than barred - had a ropeladder attached to the sill and coiled back inside. Gilbert grinned, set his shield as a defence, and readied his bow. Looking at the ladder, a thought occurred to him, and he loosed an arrow at it. He couldn't be sure, but he thought it might have cut one of the supports.
At the front, Mehmet and Percinious determined the presence of active magic and mechanical traps on the front door, and were just considering what to do about this when Skaven lit his Fireblade and hacked the whole door to splinters with one strike.
Charging in, the three found an empty, dark room with a table and chairs, a dark lantern, doors ahead and left, and stairs to the right. Mehmet sidled to the stairs, while Percinious and Skaven opened a door each.
Skaven
found a large room, occupying the entire back of the building, with training
equipment and apparatus, and racks carrying more hirdas - the straight
short swords the Jaaith used.
Percinious had opened a store-room, packed with crates and sacks of clothes, both Jaaith outfits and disguises of various types, and with pouches, packs, packets and jars of all sorts of alchemical components. There was also enough food to last twenty people a month.
Outside, Gilbert saw lights bloom in both unshuttered back windows and half-drew his bow. The shuttered window banged open, and the rope ladder unreeled down to the filthy alley.
Mehmet
reached the bottom of the stairs just in time to see a man start down. The fact
that it was a man was beyond question, because he was equipped with a
hirda and absolutely nothing else - not even clothes. The man's eyes
widened, and he started trying to cast a spell as Mehmet charged up the steps
towards him.
He was almost completely through the Protection spell when Mehmet caught him, attacking in his usual berserk fashion. The Jaaith managed one parry, but the second strike slashed across his abdomen hard enough to grate against his spine, spilling his insides down the stairs in a slithery gush. The man collapsed, and Mehmet dodged around him and carried on up, heeled by Skaven and Percinious.
At the top they found a long hall that bent around to run along the back of the building. Two doors led into rooms facing the front, and torches illuminated the hall. Four men were gathered by the shuttered window, working frantically to release the ladder and escape. One had already climbed out, and a second was following, when a musical twang from below announced Gilbert's entry to the fray. A muffled cough from outside indicated a hit, and a moment later a terrible crunch announced that the unfortunate target had fallen twelve feet from the ladder onto his head and would be taking no further part in proceedings. The bald archer's second deadly shot took out the second climber, whose fall was accompanied by the weakened rope-ladder, cutting off the Jaaith's exit.
Mehmet and Skaven charged across the hall, weapons readied, and in moments both remaining Jaaith were down. Skaven had hewn off the arm of his foe at the shoulder and he bled to death in seconds, but Mehmet slashed through the right forearm of his target, Healed him, and tied him up for later interrogation.
Realizing that no-one would emerge from the back now, Gilbert unplanted his shield and returned to the front of the building where he watched the windows, now both lit.
Skaven and Percinious opened a door each.
Glancing in, Percinious saw three men with hirdas charging at him. Nipping back out, he slapped the door shut, jammed a lockpick into the lock, and snicked the lock shut just as the men reached the door. After a couple of pushes they moved away.
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On the other side, Skaven peered in and saw faint movements in the shadows. He flailed with his sword, setting fire to some bedding near the door, and illuminating himself perfectly. A barrage of arrows came at him. His armour shed the first few, but then one crashed through into his chest and he staggered backwards, coughing blood, and sprawled backwards on the floor. |
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Below, Gilbert saw a silhouette move against the lighted window of the room Percinious had locked. A well-aimed snapshot sent a clothyard shaft whistling between the bars and punching through the back of that room's archer, killing him instantly. The archer packed his bow away and headed into the house.
Mehmet dragged Skaven back from the door and Healed him enough to get him out of danger, although not completely. Skaven elected to play possum and remained on the floor as Mehmet and Percinious took up positions either side of the door. From inside the room, the sound of spells being cast could be heard - then rapid footsteps approached the door.
A Jaaith burst from the room, hirda in one hand, throwing star in the other, and swung his sword at Mehmet (on his right) Mehmet, fast as ever, struck first, but both his attacks were deflected by the Jaaith's skilled parries. Then the assassin struck back, and blood leaked through Mehmet's armour from a small wound. Coming up behind the man, Percinious slashed his right arm off at the elbow and he collapsed dying.
A second man sprang through, but now Skaven sprang his ambush. His Fireblade scythed across at leg height, completely severing the Jaaith's leg and sending his corpse somersaulting across the hall.
Snuffing the fires in the first dormitory room, they considered the second one.
Skaven went downstairs and began ramming his blazing broadsword up through the floorboards, mainly as a demoralizing measure, while Gilbert - newly arrived in the upstairs hall - drew Icefinger and hefted Salinan's Shield ready to advance into the room. He booted the door open, stepped in, stepped to one side, and flailed wildly at a shadow, hitting nothing. Behind him, Mehmet opened up with the recurved Archen bow enhanced with Multimissile.
Two arrows struck each man, and both went down instantly. Mehmet and Percinious stepped into the room, and Mehmet looked curiously at the first man he'd shot. He knew he'd hit him in the chest and head, but there appeared to be no wound in his head.
As he watched, however, an arrow extruded itself from the man's undamaged head and dropped to the floor, leaving no wound. Blinking in surprise, he picked it up and put it back in his quiver.
Once more, the half-qhal had Jaaith prisoners. Seperating them, they interrogated them, seeking the whereabouts of the leader Ungart. Nothing was forthcoming however, even at threat of death.
While this was happening, Gilbert slipped downstairs and mixed the alchemical components with the food stocks, hoping for a poisoned mixture, probably with good reason.
An idea
ocurred to Mehmet and he handed the tanned piece
of Khaeru's skin to Percinious to use his new-minted sorcery skills on.
Grinning in a rather frightening manner, the sorcerer used the Maugre Claw to
power the magic. Focussing on the man Mehmet had cut the forearm from, he cast
the Dominate Human spell.
As the power flowed, he felt the unpredictable crystal pendant's effect; the energies warped and bent back on themselves, building and expanding before blasting into the victim's body. The tiny rags of the Jaaith's resistance were swept away like leaves in a hurricane, and the magic of domination tore down into the deepest reaches of his soul. There was a bright flash of light, and both caster and subject staggered, momentarily stunned.
Slightly unnerved, the four eyed the prisoner, wondering if the massively engorged spell had blasted his mind altogether. Percinious cleared his throat.
"Where is Ungart?" he asked.
The man's eyes focussed on him, and an expression of utter adoration came over his face.
"Master!" he gasped, ecstatically. "He's at the Enclave."
The spell had worked, all right, far better than normal. Everyone crowded around with questions, but the prisoner - whose name was Kelbar - glanced to Percinious for permission to answer before saying a word. He nodded, and the man, fawning and whimpering to please his 'master', revealed the layout of the Enclave, where each class of inhabitant was to be found, where the Jaaith back entrance was and much more. Then he was asked, "is there any magical communication or teleport between the Enclave and the Academy?"
Clearly, this was a question he couldn't answer. His face furrowed with pain, and he gasped in short breaths, suffering actual pain at his inability to deliver what his master had asked. Gilbert reasoned that, if the raker was to fly a flag to signal success, there couldn't be a better means of getting the message across.
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(As the door of the safe house closed behind the departing invaders, the two remaining survivors lay unconcious in their bonds, squirming faintly towards the stairs. Eventually, they regained conciousness, and from behind their gags began to whimper with loss and longing, struggling to escape and to go in search of something... or someone.)
The local presence of Academy Hadragan in Agahir was a fairly impressive building. Not as large as Stalmyr's, it was nevertheless bigger than that of any other Academy. Eight-foot walls surrounded it, equipped with catwalks for guards but not castellated; these were security walls, not military defence walls. A smaller, secondary enclosure contained the vendorium, where members of the public could buy or sell magical services or enchantments.
In front of the main gate was a twice-life-size statue of the original Hadragan, founder of the academy, and in the lee of this the half-qhal gathered. All was still and quiet, although lights were visible here and there over the walls.
The group's anger over their three slain followers still burned, and vengeance called them - but they didn't quite fancy tackling the impressive-looking defences of the Enclave. Instead, harking back to the battle of Heldorn, the idea of using the Chalice of Ryien was suggested.
Percinious
had been considering this for a while, and had identified a small jar of acid
amongst the assorted ingredients in the safe house. He opened this now, poured
it into the Chalice, and rotated it carefully until he was looking at
the Face of Wine. Meanwhile, the others were pooling their few remaining magic
points back into the Maugre Claw, for Percinious was counting on a loss
of control to create the effects he wanted... As he prepared to cast the spell,
the others retreated around the statue of Hadragan to some minimal safety.
The magic was invoked, and the combination of acid and the Face of Wine produced Death's Tears - this Nutbolter already knew. What it meant he was unsure of. At first he was disappointed, for the magic worked normally. A gout of black fluid leaped from the cup, steaming slightly, and splashed to the cobbles. The flow continued on and on, and the dark pool spread across the square. Belatedly, it occurred to Percinious that the square was basically flat, and if the spread was even, they'd be standing in the stuff before long. He concentrated, and the flow shifted towards the enclave's gates.
At that moment, a dog appeared in the square. It eyed the armed men disintrestedly, and padded across the square. As it reached the pool of Death's Tears, its' paws splashed through the fluid, and at first it appeared not to notice the difference from any other puddle. Then it paused, and lifted a paw, peering at it in puzzlement as the viscous fluid dripped off; evidently it felt strange. Then it made its' fatal mistake. It licked its' paw.
A moment later, it began howling with agony, a sound distorted and eventually smothered as a gory, lumpen mass began pouring from all its' bodily orifices. Blood and chunks of liquefying internal organs leaked from it as it collapsed. A few seconds later, it was dead.
And the pool of Death's Tears expanded steadily towards the gate of the enclave...
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I have to hold my hands up here.
I hashed this one up. As well as ignoring the armour, this Critical should
have dealt rather more damage than it did. However, Mehmet was right on
hand to cast Healing, so would have probably saved Skaven within my house
rule of CON ÷ 2 rounds to die after a fatal wound.