• Graded • Finder's Keepers

[Patrick]

Zi'da 11 717, Noon

Location: Foster's Landing

"So what all do we know exactly?" Patrick asked with a lean forward in his chair, elbows rested on the table as he rested his chin on his entwined hands. Crowley had went out earlier that day to do a bit of digging, more or less to figure out the latest word on their new rival. A few scattered pieces of parchment were between him and Crowley, as the table they'd used in their room served as a secondary research station for their expedition. "We know he had to deal with the local guard after we got away," He reminded with almost a shiver at the memory of that freezing water, "which we were lucky we got away intact."

"Heh, almost got us a nasty cold more like." Crowley interjected as he flicked ashes from his cigar.

"Focus please?" Patrick requested with a slight grin. "It was last Trill but we got away, afterwards he dealt with the local guard. Ever since then he's increased security, and resumed his recruiting for the expedition to Orimar."

"Yep."

"So what don't we know just yet?"

"How about if he still has the chalice for starters?" Crowley pointed it with a finger raised, he took a moment to enjoy his cigar before he spoke. "Raimeus is a cold and manipulative bastard, he'll play dirty if it gets him whatever he wants. Which is us since you had that stroke of luck in getting us out alive."

"Okay. So where would he hide the chalice then?" Patrick asked with a hand dropped on the table to roll his fingertips across the surface.

"He wouldn't. He'd want it right there for us to try and grab, only problem is he wouldn't make it so easy. He'll set up a trap more than likely, to grab it when we think he's vulnerable. You can bet Tresah is involved though."

"He'll set up Tresah to watch over the chalice then, which means he's baiting us to act against the locals." Patrick figured with a sigh while Crowley agreed with the logic. "Which means we need a plan to get to Tresah..." Patrick thought long and hard as he wondered just how good of a shot Crowley was. "Can you use a crossbow?"

"What? Now you want me to shoot the poor bastard?"

"Not even, but we'll want to create a couple of diversions. And I think I have an idea..."

"Oh geez," Crowley muttered with a pinch at the inner corners of his eyes, "Alright kid lay it on me. What's the plan?"

Patrick then grinned as he leaned into his chair a bit. "Well..."

Zi'da 11 717, Sundown

Location: The Sons of Justice Encampment

Rather than suit up in his leather armor for this Patrick took the lighter, probably less safer route, and dressed warmly for the occasion. Zi'da's nights were frankly quite chilly, and therefore he didn't want to get a case of cold feet from numb limbs. So carefully he walked along to the spot he needed to be, his first point of interest which would create the first distraction for the encampment. He'd brought his tinderbox along for the occasion, as well as a couple clothes and bottles of whiskey bought from the market. While he wanted to drink himself stupid on the both of them, they were essential for the plan of action and therefore too vital to consume. Crouched among the blades of grass that covered his sides, he moved as careful as he could to the first spot of interest. Finally when he was there he found the small pile of wood Crowley had left there for him. "Perfect!" He whispered to himself as he surveyed the area for targets, from the looks of it they were just in the clear of the camp's perimeter.

"Now... Let there be light." He commented as he knelt close to the pile and brought out the tinder box, with the flint and steel in separate hands he struck the two together a few times; cautious to let the sparks fall onto the log pile below. It took about six to ten tries before finally the wood caught light though, as the sparks started to smoke within the pile once he'd struck enough times. Quickly pocketed the tinderbox back and softly blew within the pile, and fed the flames air so that they'd start to burn the pieces of wood. "Good. That'll signal Crowley that I'm in position, and let watch know they're expecting company." He thought aloud to himself in a low voice, as he rose to a stand and moved onward into the wood. He only had two or three Bits worth before Crowley would start the distraction, therefore Patrick had to be quick in reaching the next vantage point before that part of the plan carried out.

Off Topic

Okay buddy! This is a thread where your every decision counts! The lowdown so far is that Patrick is sneaking close to the camp, while his companion Crowley has managed to shoot a burning bolt from the crossbow to ignite a tent. So Gangui the first two signs of notice will be the signal fire, which is just smoke pit Crowley set up when he was there earlier, and then the actual fire used to create the initial distraction.

[Gangui]

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Earlier

The crystal chalice sparkled in splendor. The light passing through it produced an eerie ruby-red light. None could determine exactly how the glorified cup was created, the shape was to intricate for the hands of any in the Landing.

The jeweled sparkle suddenly stopped with the loud sound of an iron lid being slammed shut. Steely hands twisted the key, locking the wooden box. It was bound with iron and colbalt, easily sliding under the table that was arranged in the large tent.

Gangui, commander of the Sons of Justice, slowly rose before his trusted allies: Caoindelbhan and Brandon. Placing the key around his neck and under his chainmail, he nodded to the two men to make sure they were in agreeance.

The Bard spoke first, “This was an ill move Gangui,”

“Aye, you don’t know Raimieus,” Caoin agreed, still and silent as he stroked a gray beard.

“Regardless, it’s our responsibility now,” Gangui heavily stepped around the table towards the two men who stood tall, “I was thought to be bold and brave.”

“Be as it may, you should have vetted him first.”

Gangui paused as he mulled over these thoughts once again. Regret for his decision had plagued him since the moment he agreed to the foreign lord’s plan. The pensive look on his face finally broke as he accepted this course of action, “We need to bolster ourselves for the long battle,” And a long battle indeed for he referred for the Son’s of Justice goal of uniting the people against moral depravity and economic negligence, “You know our scared mission.”

“Aye, we are still behind you, it was never a question,” Caoin glared at Gangui in agreement.

“Good,” Gangui said while tightening his sword belt and adjusting the dagger tucked in it, “Now that we are on the same page regarding our new duties, let us return to our meal with our brothers!”

~~

The chattering men sat on a simple table that had been laid out in the middle fo the encampment. As usual, they ate simple soldiers porridge. Tastier than it looked and packed with all the right stuff to give the men strength in their duties. The sound of the sparse forest around them, coupled with the wafts of sea and pig shit from the city set the scene as a day full of energy. Of course those still on duty were not around, but the ones who remained eagerly recounted with themselves the day’s news -- or the lies they liked to tell each other to boast and jest.

Gangui among them smiled as he wiped the the slurp off his mustache. Something caught his eyes behind a row of tents, “Is that smoke?” he mumbled for no one to hearm “Is that smoke!” This time louder for everyone to hear.

The table turned around and in unison their eyes lit up with surprise as the thin trial of black clouds suddenly fanned into plums of it. All at once everyone tried to get up, knocking plates and cups and food around. Some good beer tipped over into the dirt. Silent, glimmering steel suddenly appeared in the hands of half a dozen men.

Gangui jogged, leading the charge towards the smoke. All of them followed in suit, one of them catching up to the mustachio. Within moments they were greeted by one of their tents in a blaze of glory. The warrior stopped and smiled. Some stupid idiot hadn’t put out a lamp this morning.

When everyone arrived at the tent moments later laughter erupted and the man whom it belong to charge forward attempting to salvage his belongings. Panicking the man didn’t know what to do.

“Alright! Alright! Help this man out, cut the cords, move the tent away,” Gangui barked as soon as he sensed that action was not being taken fast enough, “NOW!”

The hustling men began dealing with the situation the moment Ganui’s shout left his lips. Cutting the tent down, they lifted up the burning canvas with branches throwing it away from the items inside. With the tools to accomplish this, the whole process was rather quick and would take no more than five trills to be complete. Fortunately the canvas material would be all burnt up by then, though with no favor to the man’s belongings.

“Who the hell leaves a burning lamp in a tent!?” Gangui yelled over the din in deliberate chastisement, “There will be consequences for this!”

[Patrick]

Patrick reached a tree with low enough branches to jump up on and start climbing, his gloves caught on the bark of the limbs to help pull him up one branch after another. When he pulled himself up he did so with steady and calculated reaches, as he slowly ascended higher and higher into the tree that served as his next vantage point. Once high enough he found the location of the camp beyond the branches, and tucked within the hills just beyond a small object looked to burn through the air. "There goes Crowley." He murmured as he watched what had to be the bolt soar to the ground, right behind one of the tents on the outer perimeter of the camp.

Patrick looked from that tent over to where the group seemed to be clustered at, a small dining area which seemed littered with the local militia; all armed and dressed for the part as well. There were also patrols as far as Pat could tell, though the rest of the camp hadn't been lit up enough for him to determine where. "Okay. Looks like I'm up." Patrick noted as he looked down and slowly started to descend the tree. When he rested a foot on one of the branches he used to climb up, his weight caused it to snap underneath him and nearly led him to fall entirely; had he not kept a hand on the branch he'd previously gripped when he climbed down there. "Whoa, crap!" He muttered with tension as he felt his heart pound anxiously, as he quickly grabbed his branch with both hands. Careful to plot his next move he looked down below him, then across where another tree resided as well. Determined to get down safely he deemed it likely better to just drop down rather than make the jump.

Therefore he took two deep breaths and held in the second, and released his grip to drop down where the next branch waited. When he used his hands and caught the branch, he felt his whole body jerk from the fall and held tight to avoid slipping with his grip. Said branch shook hard and for a moment, he feared the sudden tension would cause it to snap afterwards. Thankfully luck held out for him in this case, as he held on with no other reaction to follow. A twig snapped from underneath him and when he looked down, lo and behold a patrol seemed to be beneath him. "Great..." He whispered as the man seemed occupied with the smoke in the distance, likely because that tent had been a blazing inferno by now and attracted plenty of attention. With some thought on how he would get down quietly now, Patrick looked up at his branch and realized he only had one option now. "Sorry for this." He murmured as he let the branch go to drop down, the patrol unit turned his head to look up at just the right moment.

Patrick fell with a arms brought together overhead, his fists balled together to smack down hard into the mans head. When he landed on the guy there was a brief moment of pain from his impact, as his forearms and torso felt the majority of the impact when the two hit the ground hard. The poor bastard was out cold, but at least he'd only wake up with a severe headache much later. "Light's owe." Patrick murmured as he massaged his wrists with a frown, still in a crouch he moved forward through the thicket of the trees within the grass. Determined to get closer he moved along to reach the outskirts of the tents, his tinder box pulled back out as he rested it and one of the bottles on the ground. With one of the clothes also taken out Patrick opened the whiskey bottle, and took at least a decent swig of the dark liquor with a slight scowl at the burn. "Nice vintage." He commented as he took the wash cloth and stuffed it within the neck. "Waste of a good bottle this is..."

With it turned upside down for the cloth to soak some Patrick then laid the bottle on the ground, his hand about to reach for the tinderbox until something rustled within the grass. Just up ahead another patrol seemed to be nearby, his torch held high as he scanned the area for any activity. Patrick remained completely still for maybe a couple Bits, though they felt long and tedious in his wait for the man to overlook his spot. Finally with his back turned he started to walk onward some, his back now to Patrick as he took the initiative to creep forward just close enough to reach a few feet away from the man. Then... he struck. The drunk lunged for him and with arms brought over the man's shoulder, Patrick caught the man by surprise and arm locked the guard by the neck. A struggle occurred as he tried to hold the man in place, the crevice of his arm pressed tighter into the man's neck as he tried to fight back. After almost another Bit had passed his struggling lessened, and Patrick pulled him away within the grass to hide the unconscious man.

Once that had been done Patrick picked up the tinderbox and closed it, the bottle next to be picked up after he put away the box once more. With the torch that had been dropped still barely lit, Patrick dangled the cloth part over the flame until it caught fire as well. Now ready to initiate the next part of the distraction, he arched an arm back far enough to give it at least credible throwing distance. He didn't need to hit the tent exactly... just the area close to it. With a bite on his lower lip he aimed just a little higher, the arch a little farther before he finally launched the bottle into the air. His makeshift Molotov soared through the air until gravity brought it down just as rapidly, and caused it to crash at least several feet from his intended target. "Crap!" He murmured as the glass shattered and alcohol splashed upon impact, yet that seemed just enough to spread flame near the tent. With that and the slight wind that wafted through from the sea, Patrick's handiwork led to another tent being set on fire.

"Thank Ilaren!" He praised... although he'd doubt she'd approve him abusing alcohol in such a manner. With patrols now alerting of another fire, Patrick moved closer to a tent and hid around it. When the coast had seemed clear and he moved to the spot where they were all dining at, determined to see if the chalice might've been located there instead. "Tresah," He reminded himself, "If I can find Tresah then I find the chalice... Otherwise I just need to keep the guard distracted long enough." Patrick looked back up at the spot where he knew Crowley to be, already another burning bolt seemed to soar through the air to another tent within the camp.

[Gangui]

[img]/gallery/image ... e_id=12992[/img]

Even as the men at arms of Turkey Co were stamping out the ashes of the last tent fire, columns of smoke began to rise from the tents on the other side of the encampment. It was aggravating to say the least. Chaos had descended into the ranks as the roughly one dozen men scrambled to put the fires out.

“We know we’re under attack!” Gangui yelled, speaking to the hidden assailants whom had been assaulting the camp using diversionary tactics.

With not enough men present to effectively enforce damage control and hunt the perpetrators, the leader of the faction decided to hunt whoever was torching their tents alone.

The warrior stepped down a line of tents that was near the dining area. The others worked fervently three rows down.

“Show yourselves!” He took a deep breath and held his enchanted longsword well in front of his body as he jogged noisily clamoring about in his armor.

He prepared himself for outright physical acts coming towards his body. He focused his vision towards the edge of the camp, seeking arrow fire or perhaps a long range mage. The fuzzy peripherals of the immediate surroundings were secondary in his mind.

“We know we’re under attack!” He repeated loudly, bellowing above the din.

Excitement and anger filled his intense aura as he searched around the tents. Gangui was like an attack dog, salivating to cut down the perpetrators. It was the energized reaction that was signature to Gangui’s commanding presence on the field of battle.

“Come out!” Even in the midst of chaos he thought of honor.

[Patrick]

Meanwhile Patrick remained tucked behind the tent he’d hid around with eyes on the mass, everywhere he looked militia scattered to handle flames as well as search the area. One in particular had already seen through the fact that this was a trap, more or less a facade of an ambush just posed upon them now.

From what he could see thanks to the blaze, their commander appeared a bolsterious type; with an credibly odd mustache to fit the look. “Great..” Patrick muttered as he could already tell, that this guy would be trouble after the stunt he’d pulled. However they came here for the chalice, and so far the plan had been going accordingly… even if he hadn’t located Tresah yet. Was the man hiding? Which tent was meant to be his? “I’m not gonna have much luck sitting here. Gotta move fast.”

The drunkard urged himself as he dipped further behind his tent, determined to put a bit of distance between him and the militia leader. Patrick moved along to another tent, only this time pulled a flap up to slip within. Determined to utilize the only bottle he had left, he sat the whiskey on the ground and pulled out the tinderbox. It had taken only a few strikes of the flint and steel, before the sparks caught flame on the soaked cloth tucked within.

From there he poked his head out the exit to see if the coast was clear enough, and rather than setting another tent ablaze Patrick aimed high; determined to throw it farther away as he ran the other direction.

[Gangui]

[img]/gallery/image ... e_id=12992[/img]

A “Ghaumk Rezot” in Ith’Ession or “whiskey bomb” in common, flew through the air like tumbling torches. It made a distinct whooshing sound as it found it’s target.

More chaos.

Unfortunately for Gangui, he could not detect where the bomb was coming from. Swelling anger consumed him temporarily. He could feel his temple beginning to heat up and his neck tense up. Taking a deep breath he reminded himself of the fog of war, thus stealing his nerves and dropping as much emotion from the equation as he could muster.

Jogged a bit towards where the bomb had landed, seemed to get his brain cells working logically again, “Wait--” He said to himself, “Damnit! ” Quickly he sorted out that the opponent had to have been opposite of where the distraction was at.

Flipping his hips he decided to run towards his own tent, the larger brightly colored tent. It was the furthest point from the Ghaumk Rezot attack that had just occurred.

“Coward!!” He yelled as he jogged up the slight incline, sweat now beading up on his brow.

Whoever was attacking them did not intend to duke it out. It had been a full five trills with no sort of confrontation. Not even a noise. They were weak. They had no power to confront them. It was obvious as he pieced it together on his jog.

Grabbing his personal tent’s flap, he poked his sword in without actually entering--

“HIYAH!”

-scanning the area inside expecting to be descended upon.

[Patrick]

Patrick rushed as hard as he could but he also had to avoid attention, he knew this diversionary tactic was losing steam by now. The question was whether or not their effort had an impact afterwards, something Patrick wouldn’t know until he managed to escape.

Not that he’d thought that far ahead, right now his focus was on the chalice itself and it… wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Nor Tresah.

“Damn!” He cursed as he dunked behind another tent, until a pair of arms wrapped around his torso. “Shit!” The drunk grunted as he struggled to break free of the arm lock, his elbows used to directly pound against the soldier’s side. The struggle itself took a Bit’s worth of time as he continued his effort, until finally he found enough leverage to lean forward and pull his head back.

He felt the entirety of his skull crash into the man’s face, with just enough for to give him a release upon impact. A bit dazed he staggered forward a bit, and with a twist to face his enemy, Patrick jumped up a bit to add momentum to the fist he spiked into the soldier’s face.

Knockout.

Though it was too close of a call, if he hung around much longer then he’d be royally screwed… His eyes scoured through the tents to notice the colored one, where it seemed their leader was to be headed. Then it struck him. “Maybe he hid the chalice…” Only one way to find out however, and Patrick determined a quick visit there would help him get a better idea. Not that it was part of the plan… but their options were limited at this point.

[Gangui]

[img]/gallery/image ... e_id=12992[/img]

Nothing.

Tent was empty, exactly how he had left it last. He growled as the maddening annoyance he felt pierced so deep he felt it in his bone marrow. Gangui was becoming impatient with his lack of a physical enemy to stab. This situation was just like fighting Immortals. They attacked without honor. These evil fuck never attacked society sword to sword, man to man, but always with the trappings of the most underhanded schemes. He hated it. He wished that this wasn’t the truth, but in the midst of battle he started to feelthis, not simply understand it. Regardless he rejected it fundamentally.

Luckily for Gangui, their assailant was no Immortal. Drive by the incredible urge to proceed on the day’s chaotic journey, he jogged through the tent sword point first and exited on the other side.

Immediately his annoyance was lifted when he spotted the perpetrator finally. He cast eyes on tall rough looking man. He turned his head as if battered into a crook, curious as to his immediate thoughts on the rugged face. He never met the man. Quickly his eyes searched to see if he had any weapons on him, only to find the tinderbox he carried within his pocket instead.

Bounding forward, he threw out a sweeping underhanded slash from his blade, hoping to nick the man if he dodged.

“Huzzah!”

The glory driven warrior was already beginning to lose track of time as the events on the field of battle unfolded into open exchange.

[Patrick]

He should’ve expected that the asshole would take to attacking him first, given his campgrounds were now a festive ground of chaos right now. With the way he’d swung his weapon Patrick nearly found himself ran through, had he not managed to pull away in time with just a nick made over the location of his gut.

Clearly their leader knew how to handle a sword, although he didn’t seem half as intelligent as Pat initially gave credit for. “Whoa jeez! Seven asses, take it easy would ya!” He hollered aloud to the man as he’d fell back onto his ass, his hands and feet used to propel him away from the lunatic as far as he could.

At this rate it was a standoff between the two of them, but one Patrick didn’t want to have to force if it weren’t necessary. “Alright, alright! Lose the sword pal, nobody else needs to get hurt tonight.” He urged the man as he rose to his feet with a hand held out, more or less gesturing for him to refrain from further attacking.

“Look this may appear bad to you, but trust me it could be a lot worse! Just lemme have the chalice, and you can bet I’ll be out of your hair no problem.” Not that hair seemed to be this guy’s issue, he had plenty of it dangling from the top of his lip after all. Still at this rate Patrick’s improvisation led him to determine this the better route, that is if he wanted to increase their odds at getting the chalice.

”Crowley,” He thought to himself with a heavy gulp, ”You’d better pull through with this.”

[Gangui]

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Stopping his assault on the coward Gangui laughed when he started putting things together. The man was a petty thief. A terrible one. Though very effective at being annoying.

“Under common law I could have you hung right now! Speak quickly and plainly, or I’ll cut you down immediately.” the mustachio spat. A vile look on his face spoke true to his words, “You petty thief coming around here at your master’s bidding!? Don’t you realize he sent you to your death?!”

He edged closer to the guy, aiming his sword at Patrick’s heart. He couldn’t explain what was going on, but it was beginning to get strange, this whole business with the chalice. They hadn’t taken up guarding the item for more than a week and bad shit was already happening.

“You don’t have the power to take the Chalice from me!” He bellowed, “Your evil ways are no match for the power of good and prosperity!

The thief cringed with his eyes on the sword, clearly unnerved that it drew closer to his chest. “Evil ways?!” He reiterated in a tone that suggested confusion. “I don’t know what you’re spouting there pal, might be a little thundered there if you’ve hit the booze too hard.” Even when he seemed on edge, somehow the thief could manage a smirk as he held his hands up in surrender.

“Shut up!” Gangui growled, “I said to speak plainly. I am not giving you the chalice. I’ve taken a vow of honor.” He drew the key out with one hand from his chain coif, still pointing his sword at the man with the other.

Letting it dangle over his gorget, he pointed an steely finger at the man, “I cannot back down. Now, tell me who sent you!”