• Solo • [Forbidden Spit] The Sleeper and the Saboteur (Graded)

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With the escalation of hostilities between Etzos and Rhakros, a series of small walled towns is being established as a network of early warnings and defenses against Rhakros' reprisals. Only the very bravest and most formidable of characters should risk themselves on the Witches' Wilds frontier.

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Clavam
Approved Character
Posts: 70
Joined: Thu Mar 12, 2020 8:14 am
Race: Mortal Born
Profession: Murder Hobo
Renown: 55
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[Forbidden Spit] The Sleeper and the Saboteur (Graded)

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Cylus 28, 720, 11th break


The Coop Keeper's rookery was a mess of bird noises, feathers, and bird smell. All of these various breeds were arrayed in cages, some with hoods, others draped with a black cloth to keep them calm as soldiers came and went about their business. Under most circumstances, the rookery would be closed to newcomers like Clavam. Yet Morgue had given him permission to pursue information about the bird that had been haunting him ever since his duty in the forge. The bird was intelligent enough to speak short words, and sing, and make noises. It wasn't afraid of people, which made Clavam more convinced that it must belong to somebody. And Coop Keeper Eileen was the most likely candidate, to his mind. Morgue disagreed, but held his piece, allowing for Clavam to investigate as he would. It'd all end up in his report anyways, he figured, so whatever came of it would be.

After navigating through the labyrinthine mess of cages, coops, and cubicles, Clavam came to the woman herself. Her striking blue eyes shone beneath her mask, along with a slight tendril of black hair. She quirked a brow at him, waiting for him to open the exchange.

"Err... Coop Keeper." Clavam stood at attention for a moment, and fell at ease when she acknowledged him with a nod. "I'll cut right to it; you aren't missing any birds, are ye?"

Eileen kept about her business, releasing a pigeon into the cage, then closing the grate behind it. She turned to face Clavam with a sigh, "If I was, we'd have emergency patrols all over the Post."

"I.... er..."

"You see, sometimes a new recruit gets a bright idea. They'll steal one of my birds, to inform his shithead friends in Etzos, in the Outer Perimeter or otherwise about what we're doing here." The cloth on her mask shifted, as if she were smiling wryly at Clavam. "If that were the case, I'd be short of one bird. We don't let the pigeons get far, much as it pains me to lose one feather on one wing of my birds, my falcons make short work of any homing birds." She sighed.

"Why do you ask?"

Clavam scratched the back of his neck, twisting his face in consternation, "Well... there's this raven that follows me, talking shit and making noises. Just being a nuisance. I thought it might be yours."

Eileen shook her head, "No, I don't keep ravens here. Too headstrong and independent, and sometimes too curious for their good. They don't make good messengers. Pigeons are easy, they are singular minded about flying their messages. A raven will sometimes stop to smell the roses, you see."

"Are they daft or somethin?"

Again she shook her head 'no'. "They are independent minded, and can be curious about humans. They do make good pets though, I know of at least one soldier who made one their own..."

"A woman, who arrived shortly on the post before you did. Former mercenary captain." She didn't disclose the offense that had led that woman here. That surprised Clavam. He'd have thought Eileen, given her role, to be the most likely to gossip. That was fine, Clavam could find out from someone else if it concerned him.

"So, who? Is she still on the post? Can we get a cage for that damned bird?"

Eileen chuckled beneath her mask, as she drifted toward another cage, this one holding a large owl. She began sprinkling little bits of meat at the owl, which grabbed at them and gobbled them down. The owl turned its baneful gaze on Clavam for a moment, before turning its head clockwise to contemplate the pigeons adjoining its cell.

"She went missing, as it happens. We don't know if she ran, or if she's simply lost. Part of the group that went after the prospectors, if I hear tell of it right." Eileen crossed her arms over her chest, and stared at Clavam. "Was there anything else?"

"Yeah, anything I can do to scare that shit bird off? I don't know why it's homing in on me. But I don't like it."

Eileen had a strange affection for birds, and not only her own., because she refused to give him tips on how to murder the thing. Not that Clavam wanted to end the feathered beast... Just scare it off so it wouldn't be so trusting of people. Even so, she sent him along, citing her need to do important work in the rookery.

Within the break, Clavam was at his quarters, with the rest of the mates in his line. He looked around for Kurt, but couldn't find him. Instead, there was Dock, the engineer flunkout from the academy. The man looked up at Clavam and grinned cheerful, "Any luck with the Coop Keeper then?"

"Nah, not her bird. Some other scout that went missing when they went after those renegade prospectors." Clavam shrugged. Then he began putting his travel gear together, which consisted of a mess kit, some dry rations, and his travel pack with the rest of his tools.

Dock eyed his rummaging with a wary glance, "Uh, what are you doing Clav?"

Clavam shot a look over his shoulder, "Getting ready for a field trip."

Dock rose from his sitting position, and fidgeted with the strap that tied to his satchel full of tools. "Do you have leave..."

"Don't need leave. I'll be back before a trial is up. Gonna follow that bird, to see where it leads me."

"Uhh... Okay. You know that Morgue is watching you, don't you?"

"I know. And he knows that I know, that he knows everywhere I go, so it's fine. Worst case scenario, I get caught out in the wilderness and have to get rescued."

Dock snorted at that, "You think you're worth rescuing... That's pretty funny!" Dock shook his head, and then went over toward his bunk to grab his light crossbow. This he shouldered, strung but unloaded. It was Clavam's turn to give him a look.

"What? Going for target practice?" Clavam frowned curiously.

"I'm going with you. It's a lot safer with two eyes out there, and you might need me if you run into the renegade prospectors' digs." Dock took a deep breath, as if preparing his pitch, "I know how to spot a hidden lair, and you'll need..."

"Alright, come on then. We'll be off."

"But you'll fuckin' die out ther... Wiat did you say alright?" Dock pumped his hand, and then cleared his throat, "I mean, yeah let's go then!"

Having that decided, Clavam led Dock through the backways, a little known passage out of the Post that some of the recruits used to sneak off when they felt like messing around. Surely Morgue and the rest knew of it, but they didn't seem to mind when their recruits took iniitiative to scout the area on their own. So long as they didn't stray far.

"Boop!" Came the telltale sound of the bird, as it fluttered over the branch. Clavam stopped Dock before he got too far ahead, and pointed at the bird.

The Raven then flew off, into the woods, to the next tree, leading them as if through a daisy chain.



It pulled them by its tail feathers, leading them for breaks through the freezing wilderness. They lost sight of it at times, but it's occasional wise-cracks and 'boops' brought them back around to what Clavam supposed was the right direction.

They came to a small depression in the hilly forests north of the Spit. With rock outcroppings to either side, leavened with earth and huge tree roots jutting out from where a landslide had come through during the summer. But most of its features were frosted over with a thin layer of snow, the stuff beginning to fall on them now. They'd have a hell of a time getting back now.

"Shhhh!" Dock drew Clavam off toward the side of the hill, nearly pulling him off his feet as they leaned against the hill, one to the other. "Do y'see tha'?"

Clavam's mouth twisted as he looked all around in mock alarm. He couldn't see shit in this twilight haze. The soldier pointedly stared at the saboteur. "I don't see shit." He rasped with soft insistence under his breath.

Dock's eyes went wide, then he pulled his hand over Clavam's mouth. Clavam tried to elbow him off, but the wrecker held him fast. It was then, the soldier heard the telltale sound of whistling projectiles flying through the air. It was all he could do before whipping his shield out from under him, and roughly placing it over both he and Dock. Then the sling bullets began to fall upon them.

There must have been dozens of the projectiles being fired at once. Clavam wasn't sure about the count of the slingers sending rocks at them, but he was sure about the makeup of the ammunition, when one of them embedded themselves in the weak hide of his shield. For a moment, there was a reprieve, and Clavam took a moment to look at the chunk of rock.

He noticed then, it wasn't rock, but a form of waste metal. Pig Iron. "Shit..." He muttered, "Here's an idea Dock, don't get hit by these fucking rocks. Pig Iron is toxic."

After that bit of raw instruction, Clavam pushed off from the side of the hill, and began crouching and walking fast to the other side of the ravine. Dock followed close behind him, using him as cover. The soldiers went as far as about twenty yards, before Clavam slipped on a particularly slick boulder. "Fucker!" He nearly twisted his ankle as he went to the ground, bringing Dock with him.

Then, they heard the whistling of those damned bullets again. "We gotta get to the other side of this valley..." He rasped at his comrade. He propped himself up on his swiftly swelling ankle, and began hobbling over, still crouching, with his shield held high. Soon enough, the bullets began hitting the ground in their dedicated battery.

"Why we moving Clavam?"

Clavam cursed beneath his breath. Damned fool needed to shut it and follow his lead. He didn't have the patience to explain every step. But if they got to the side that they were firing from, they might run a chance of getting them to show their faces.

The sling fire abruptly stopped when they made it to the other side of the depression. Clavam could've sworn he heard their voices on the wind, asking questions to one another. Then the sound of footsteps. So they weren't far off?

Clavam slipped one of his shortspears from the sheath that held them on his back, and readied himself to throw at a moment's notice. He wasn't confident in his footing, having twisted his ankle, but little pains be damned. He would rather break his foot than get a pig iron bullet in the gut.

He saw the whites of their eyes reflected in the pale moonlight, and saw his chance. But then, out of the other side of the hill, he heard the raven speak, "Boop!" Followed by the release of a crossbow, and a whistling bolt that planted itself in the assailant's neck.

Clavam swiftly turned, leaning against the hill now and angling his shield toward the opposite direction. Were they surrounded now?!

Dock wasn't much use, just keeping himself low and out of sight for the most part. He was lucky enough not to be sporting several blades, such as Clavam was doing, so naturally they'd go after the better armed man, and take the lesser armed one prisoner if they could. Another crank sounded, almost too fast for a crossbow. Perhaps the other marksman was lugging more than one weapon on them? In any event, it took only seconds for the next bolt to find its way into the neck of another slinger. And then another, and another. Finally, after a few moments, Clavam heard the crank going one last time, and then a click as the crossbowstring snapped into place, a quarrel set on its lathe.

A woman, draped in furred and feathered mantle, and wearing leather armor came after them. "Exiles?" She asked in a laconic tone.

Then she lowered her crossbow, as recognition seemed to dawn on her face. "We need to get out of here. Those prospectors are all over this place, and I can only crank so many crossbows at a time."

Clavam turned to Dock, and then back at the woman, "Who'n the fuck are you?"

Her face blanked for a moment, then she flashed a superficial smile. "Gladis, Gladis Tanner."

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Re: [Forbidden Spit] The Sleeper and the Saboteur

Your Review
Clavam

Overview

Very nice read. I did appreciate explaining where the crow came from and how he came to conclusion that it could lead him to a missing person. I like his use of shield, and especially how it does its job protecting him, but in the end he still has to retreat. Excellent play to skills.

Points

XP: 19
Renown: 5 - To the imitative to find out about missing people.

Loot

IC: 1 WP

Knowledge

Appropriate to level

[*]Athletics: Running, jumping, and climbing over hilly terrain.
[*]Discipline: Facing a dangerous situation with determination.
[*]Leadership: Impressing a fellow exile with personal fearlessness.
[*]Shield: Shielding against sling missiles.
[*]Shield: Sheltering beneath a shield, when you don't know where the missiles are coming from.
[*]Shield: A shield can only cover you from limited angles of attack.



If you have any questions or concerns regarding this review - drop me a PM.
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