~ The Quest for the Ring of Fire Command: [Home] [Previous Turn] [Next Turn] ~

"You move like Storm Wizard," Hannibal whispers in the direction of Crayne. "Like a pregnant Yak!" Prodding the stout playfully, he winks to show that he is only kidding.

Storm looks behind him with an angered look on his brow. He sees his human friend wink, and knows the comment to be a joke. Caught off guard, though, he still feels a little annoyed. "Aye, I can be sneakin' circles around you, longlegs." He half-smiles to Hannibal as he turns his way forward again.

Hannibal leans in close to Storm and El, whispering his suggestion once in a low thieves cant, then again in Elven. "Do not act without my word. If combat arises, El, you will take the larger, I the smaller."

As things unfold and the noise alerts the guards, Storm draws a dagger and cuffs the reflective blade behind his arm. He crunches down into the shadows as close to the edge of the alley as he dares, and he waits, poised for action.

Hannibal continues his instructions. "Storm, if Wade is not among the two you will round the corner and quickly take Wade...alive!" Storm acknowledges the plan with a sharp nod. He liked the idea of being the one to go for Wade...while they needed him unharmed, Storm would certainly take a little pleasure in giving the man a hard bonk on the head! "We will 'ad lib' the rest as we go," Hannibal continues, "Be patient friends, we may still live this thr..."

Crayne quickly moves back leaning against the wall, "Move back!" Crayne whispers to Storm, El and Hannibal. The two men were approaching cautiously Crayne knew and there was still time before they would turn the corner. Thus, Crayne begins to mutter some magical incantations and before long a small mouse appears in his hand. Crayne smiles to himself pleased with the effects from his illusion spell. He quickly lays the mouse to the ground and moves it out into the courtyard where it can be seen by the two approaching men. With a couple of squeaks the mouse makes itself heard and then scarpers off into some nearby shadows. Crayne then waits to the see the effects of his spell.

Suddenly Hannibal sees something out of the corner of his eye. He points to it to divert El and Storm's attention as well. Comically the three watch as the small mouse heads out into the open and then off to hiding again. Smiling to himself, Hannibal utters one word. "Crayne." As a thief he would not make a good living, as a Mage he was something else!

Storm stares wide-eyed for a second, then "harumphs" and shakes his head. "Magic..." he mumbles under his breath. Then, "Cute feller there, Crayne." He continues waiting, ready to act on Hannibal's plan should the need arise.

The four listen as the two pairs of footsteps inch closer, then slow as the mouse crosses their path. "Just some stupid rat," one voice says.

Then another voice from father away, Robert's, is heard: "Check there just in case. If that stupid cook left the scaps back there again, then by Cahrendhur... I'll see you inside."

El's head whips around, his eyes finding Hannibal's. They wouldn't have much time, and if Robert made it inside, then their abduction would be much more difficult. Besides, the two other soldiers were still coming! Hannibal's eyes meet with with El's, and then check with Storm, who nods curtly.

Taking a quick, deep breath, Hannibal gives the word: "Go!"

Just as the two guards come into view, El and Hannibal pounce. El is the first to attack, quickly judging which is the larger of the two, and jumping at him. The elf tackles the guard, who hits the hard ground with an "oomf!" with El on top. Instantly regaining his balance, El executes a quick combination of a jab and a hook, cracking the guard in the face with considerable force.

At the same time, Hannibal reaches the smaller guard. With a quick one-two, he surprises the guard, striking him in the stomach and side. The guard doubles over, clutching his stomach, and Hannibal quickly grabs his shoulders and drives his stomach down upon his own knee. After spitting out a mouthful of blood, the guard falls the ground, knocked out.

Storm, meanwhile, charges at Robert Wade IV, just before he reaches the door to the sleeping quarters-turned-barracks. Leaping through the air, the dwarf reading the butt of his blade, bringing it down heavily on Robert's forehead. The blow is enough, and before he can raise the alarm, Robert is unconscious on the ground.

"Hannibal!" Storm whispers as he kneels by Robert's side, catching his breath. "We c'n be takin' this one, but what about those two thar?" he motions to the two other guards.

Hannibal rubs his chin, thinking.

"Allow me," Crayne's voice chimes in. "Drag them together," he tells El and Hannibal, "make it seem as if they fell over one another." Then the mage crouches down beside one of the guards, taking his head in his hand. With a quick slap across the face, Crayne revives him well enough to be understood. Then he begins to cast Charm Person, focusing on this guard. "Listen to me," he instructs, looking the guard in the eye intently, "You fell over each other in the dark. He tripped over the mouse, and you fell on top of him. Understand?"

"Uh...yeah..." the guard responds drowsily.

"Good." Crayne's voice finishes. Storm squints and cocks his head, taking a moment to realize that the guard's head was not being held up by itself, but by Crayne. To say nothing about being slapped by an invisible hand!

"Good thinking, mage," Hannibal says in Crayne's direction. "Storm, can you take him?"

"I got 'im," Storm replies, stowing his dagger and lifting Robert by the arms so as to drag him away.

Soon they are once again in the sanctuary, and there they wait in the dark for the others to return, and for Illena to open the secret stone doorway.

"What we need...is a distraction," Emma whispers to everyone. She immediately thinks of the manner in which she once distracted Robert Wade the Younger and fights back another wave of guilt. 'No, we won't be doing it that way again,' she tells herself, though she does briefly glance toward Alara, 'Maybe the half-elf could use her charms to lure the guards away instead? But, no. No. I won't be asking anyone else to do that either. And Alara might be quite offended if I were even to suggest it.' She mentally chides herself and spends a moment to formulate a different plan.

"Skandor? Alara?" she finally says aloud, "Only Illena and I really need to get inside to speak with the other priests of Hathe. I doubt very much they have the Coreognate's body with them, but just in case, we might need someone strong like Canter to help carry it. In the meantime, perhaps you and Alara could put on a public display of your skill-at-arms? If I remember my history right, Caerloon soldiers revere weapon-masters almost as much as the Caste of Anhur. I've seen enough of you two to know your skill will draw them away from their posts while we slip inside...especially if they're as bored as they look. If you two can keep up the show long enough for us to speak with the priests and get out, we ought to entirely avoid any confrontation with them. And, if you make sure to light some torches to mark the perimeter of your sparring match, it'll be a lot harder for them to spot us in the shadows if they're looking directly at the flame.

"If anyone asks what you're doing, Skandor, just tell them you needed some fresh air and that you're practicing with your squire or something. You might want to avoid displaying your allegiance to Anhur, though, lest they become more suspicious." The priestess finally looks at him directly, knowing how seriously the big paladin takes his responsibility of protecting her. "I'll be safe enough inside the stable with the Hatheans," she tells him, "If you want to watch my back, the best way to do it would be out here...by keeping the guards' attention on you...and not me."

Slowly, reluctantly, Skandor nods his head. He sighs gently, knowing that he himself can not think of a better plan. He turns his attention towards Alara, and seeing no immediate sign of rejection, he nods his head silently towards the area from which they came, urging her to follow. Stealing away silently, he quickly asks Alara if she has a few torches with her. She doesn't, so he heads to the sanctuary to procure four from the walls of the temple. Before departing for the designated area where Emma had indicated the 'distraction' needed to be staged, Skandor scowls as he reaches down and removes his scabbard and belt from his waist. Setting those carefully aside with the torches, he slowly and careful removes his tabard, the almost perfectly-clean cloth garment that displays his deity's holy symbol. With great reverence, he slowly, carefully, gently begins to fold it. Perhaps Alara might grow impatient with this small delay, perhaps not. But finally, he folds it up small enough so that it can carefully be placed inside his pack.

Standing, shouldering his pack, and grabbing the torches, he turns his eyes towards his comrade, Alara. "If we go easy on one another, that might make our show appear to be fake, or at the least, uninteresting. However, try this...focus your aggression towards my blade, and not its wielder. I will likewise do the same. Pretend that my blade is your worst enemy, your most hated foe. Focus not on the wielder. This way, we both have a much lesser chance of wounding the other, without giving the appearance of holding back," he pauses, gives her a sly grin, "And no fighting dirty."

As they arrive at the area designated for the combat 'practice,' Skandor sets the torches down in a square pattern, each torch signifying a corner of an imaginary box. He does not look towards the soldiers that guard Emma's destination, indeed, they may not even be there now, but instead, he focuses on Alara.

He draws forth his two-handed sword almost reverently, his eyes focusing on its glossy steel as he turns it once or twice. The torch-light catches its edge for a fleeting moment, giving testament to the fact that the blade was well-cared for, pampered...loved. His eyes inspect each part of the blade, from tip to hilt, as Alara draws her weapon as well.

The paladin speaks, not loudly, but just enough so that he and his comrade would hear. Perhaps the guards might hear him mumble something, perhaps not. It was not his intention that the world hear his words, only he, Alara...and Anhur. "May our blades ring true. May our bodies, hearts and souls possess the Warrior Spirit. May Anhur smile upon us, his instruments of War," and with that, and a hefty grunt, his blade suddenly whistles overhead as he lunges toward Alara with a blatantly-obvious over-head chop.

Alara counters by raising her bastard sword above her head to parry the blow. As the blades connect with a resounding ring, her hand is met with the familiar sting one receives when two solid metal objects collide: she could tell that her comrade is serious.

Emma watches over her shoulder as the sparring begins, with its signature reverberant sounds. Then she looks past the hay before her, to the two guards in front of the stable. At first they do not appear to notice the sparring, or the noticeable torchlight from the courtyard.

But then one of them does. Squinting his eyes, he takes a step away from the door in order to get a better look. Then, turning to his comrade, he says, "Would you get a look at that? A girl holding her own against...who is that? Is he with our battalion?"

The other steps away from the door as well, causing Emma to exhale in relief--so far so good. "By the gods. Who is she? One of the religious fanatics? It's hard to see beyond the torchlight..."

As the two move farther away from the door and into the courtyard, Emma gives the signal. As fast as they can, Canter, Emma, and Illena scurry toward the door to the stable, staying as quiet as possible. Soon they are inside. Whatever discussion was taking place within the barn comes to a quick stop as two unknown people--who don't appear to be wearing Caerloon's colors--enter with young Illena.

Emma squints in the lantern-light of the stable. The strong smell of horses, hay, and musty earth assails her senses. She follows Illena through the maze of unfamiliar faces, only catching glimpses of their actual features in the dim light before they fade back into the dark. Finally, she stands before the one she assumes to be the next highest ranking priest or priestess.

After Illena introduces her, Emma bows respectfully...a gesture that she knows most priests of her order would not bother to give to a Hathean. She does so in the hopes that it might sway their opinion of her. "Thank you for hearing me, Artful One," she begins, openly displaying her holy symbol to everyone gathered nearby, "I am Emmalya Serralund, Shield Maiden of Anhur, servant of King Bryant of Rinder, and a member of Rinder's Six. I'm afraid my time with you must be short, so please listen carefully. My

companions and I have heard of your plight from Director Amos, and Illena here as well. We have also learned of the death of your Coreognate. I offer my deepest sympathies to you and your caste. Even now we are engineering a plan that will set you free and bring those responsible for his murder to justice, but we need your assistance to insure its success. We need information from you...the location of the Coreognate's body. Do you know where it lies?"

Dodgen, to whom Illena introduced Emma, smiles cautiously. He looks over Emma, from top to bottom. Judging her? He takes a long look at the tabard she displays. It is obvious from his expression that he is not too thrilled with the presence of a Shield Maiden among them. But at the moment, she may be their best hope, he reasons. Swallowing hard, he replies. "Our Coreognate was irreplacable. He was the most respected of poets, of scholars, among us. He was taken before his time...Hathe knows this. "And now you come here asking us for his body? I trust that you have only the most honorable intentions for it, but history teaches that our dealings with others wearing your tabard have not always been honorable."

Emma is silent for a moment, unsure how to proceed. The tensions between the Caste of Anhur and the other castes were not her doing. But once again the ill-considered actions of those before her impede her own.

"Artful One," Canter begins, holding open his empty hands as a sign of trust, "I can assure you--"

"And where is your tabard, Sword Bearer?" Dodgen says, turning on Canter. "Are you here to apply your methods when the Shield Maiden's fail?"

"Please, Dodgen," Illena pleads, crossing from Canter's side to Dodgen's. "These people are honorable. As honorable as the great Packard of Hewett before King Garith II of Merriam. I have seen their ways and met their numbers. This is no Sword Bearer," she motions to Canter, and then to Emma, "and this is no ordinary Shield Maiden. It is as if follows in the ways of Aleena, the melodic at heart."

Dodgen regard's Illena, looking down at her and following her gestures toward Canter and Emma. Then, he responds. "Illena has always been an excellent judge of character, ever since she was brought to us by traders from the south. So I will trust her judgement, and in turn trust you. But I implore you, Emmalya, Shield Maiden of Anhur, whatever uses you have for the body of our beloved Coreognate, let it be the means, and let the liberation of our High Director and of all us here at El-Balans be the ends for which you strive."

Emma steps forward, smiling to Illena, and takes Dodgen's hand. "You have my word; and the word-bond of this Shield Maiden is not broken."

Nodding slowly, Dodgen exhales. "The Coreognate was killed in the courtyard in front of everybody. His body was taken out through the gate. They turned west, toward the desert. If I have overheard correctly, they rode half an hour due west and left him to rot in the sand."

"Dodgen! The guards are returning!" a voice calls from near the closed door.

"Time is short," Dodgen replies as pulses quicken. "I will provide you with Hathe's aid--silence--for your exit, but you must go now."

"We understand," Canter replies, nodding to Dodgen and to the others around them.

"Thank you," Emma says as Dodgen begins to intone some strange words, a prayer to his god, Hathe.

As he finishes, he takes a few steps back, creating a distance between him and Emma, Canter, and Illena. "There is a sphere of silence around Illena. She will go with you and lead your escape. Remember your word-bond, Shield Maiden. Hathe will not forget."

Nodding (for speaking would be useless), Emma looks Dodgen in the eye. Then, she turns and follows Illena to the door. Quickly they slip out, doing their best to stay in the shadows. The two guards are still watching Skandor and Alara on the other side of the courtyard, but are slowly backstepping toward their post.

Taking Canter and Emma's hands in hers, Illena leads them along the perimiter of the compound and back toward the sanctuary. As Alara catches Illena approach, she motions with her eyes toward Skandor, who nods in understanding. Finishing their display, Skandor pats Alara on the shoulder, as if to congratulate her and give her words of advice, which the guards can see but not hear. Moments later, they collect their torches and packs and walk off into the shadows.

Returning to the study below the temple, all of Rinder's Six are once again reunited, along with Illena and the unconscious Robert Wade IV. Emma looks upon Robert's seemingly lifeless body as Storm drags him by the armpits down the stairs. She wonders to herself how exactly she will play this charade. How should she act in front of him once he is revived?

As they reach the study, being sure the secret stone door at the top of the stairs closes behind them, Emma's thoughts turn toward a more immediate task: the Coreognate's body. For to convince Robert that his men are capable of such evil, they will need to retrieve the body and call upon the Coreognate's spirit--in Robert's presence.

Indeed, it would seem that that would have to be their next task. But would it be possible to send some to retrieve the body while others located the play about the Ring of Fire Command? That would require heading down to the 'Ancient Chambers.' Amos said he could lead them down there, but what if he could not get away from Robert's men? Could they explore the deeper, older chambers without Amos's guidance? And what's more...how long could they keep Robert down here before those above began to notice? What would become of the Hatheans if in their struggle for power Robert's remaining officers assumed that Robert's disappearance was at the hands of the Hatheans, themselves?

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