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[Rolzup]

Burne and the Art of War

I considered, for a moment, the idea of a direct assault. A single working would be enough to shatter the doors of the courtyard, and no number of thugs would suffice to keep me from Xian's throat. But alas, there was Delphine's welfare to consider. It would be all too easy for Xian to murder her before we could prevent it.

HE MIGHT HAVE BEEN ABLE TO CHAR THE DOORS A LITTLE, IF HE’D REALLY TRIED.

Stealth, then, was our only recourse.

As evening fell, we took up a position some distance to the South, and scaled a convenient warehouse. Abraxis, in another sign of my foresightedness, can be used as a crude but functional grappling hook, with the added benefit of self-motivation.

A FAMILIAR'S LOT IS NOT AN EASY ONE.

Having reached the top of the building in question, we began to make our way North, picking a path across the rotting roofs and through the occasional shantytowns. It took only a few minutes to regain sight of Xian's lair, and we settled ourselves in to properly scrutinize his defenses.

They were not, frankly, overly impressive. A few guards; one, occupying the remnants of a steeple atop the monastery, did have an impressive field of view. No magical defenses that I could discern, although there were a number of paper lanterns lit by an unknown mechanism. I did, however, notice that a hawk was flying in lazy circles high over the building, with no apparent purpose.

During our observations, Xian had several visitors. The first was unknown to us: a tall, dignified-looking fellow clad entirely in black. I recognized him as a fellow Erisian, as well as another practitioner of the Art. Not an Alchemist -- he wasn't nearly scorched enough -- but obviously a learned man nevertheless.

The second visitor was Lieutenant Savur Phillipe, accompanied by his assistant "Lucky". What business could he have with Xian, we wondered?

Well, they wondered. I had already deduced the truth of the matter, but remained silent in order to spare their feelings.

HE'S LYING AGAIN.

And the last visitor? At the sight of him, I felt a sudden frisson of excitement; here, before our very eyes, was Pure Evil. A Shirac mind-witch, I knew instantly, and surmised that it was his hawk that we had seen gyring over the building. I watched him attentively as he strode away, the bird following in his wake, fixing every detail of his appearance in my mind. Here, I knew, was a threat far greater than Han Oi Xian could ever aspire to become.

IN REALITY, BURNE WAS SLEEPING BY THIS POINT. HAVE I MENTIONED THAT HE SNORES? ARE YOU AT ALL SURPRISED?

It was several hours more before we were ready to strike. The night was dark and cold, the sentries were no doubt nodding at their posts, and we had a plan. I don't remember the plan, sadly, and it's a shame. It was a damned good one, and that's for sure.

It turned out to be entirely irrelevant, as we didn't bother to follow it, but let me repeat: It was a damned good plan.

Rackhir began the assault, firing an arrow or three into the sentry in the steeple. Kenji followed a moment or so later, leaping from atop the warehouse to the roof of the monastery in order to finish the sentry off. I followed, at a more dignified pace, a moment or so later.

They were expecting us, somehow. Perhaps the mind-witch had warned them, or Xian's foul arts. It didn't matter, as they were most thoroughly out-classed by Burne. And my companions were there as well, to handle the scut-work.

The three of them engaged the foe, our madman ululating a frightful battlecry, while I and Blub-Blub hurried across the plank bridge and into the tower. My goal was to free Daikon and the Kuo-Toa, so that they could join in our assault. Not that we needed them but superior numbers are always welcome.

As it developed, the tower stairs were damp, slimy, and terribly slippery. I was forced to take my time climbing down them, lest I risk breaking my neck. I had confidence that the others could deal with Xian's minions.

Misplaced confidence, sadly enough. Kenji faced down Rackhir's attacker (named "Cloud Ghost", we later discovered), and very nearly slew him with a single stroke of his sword. But "very nearly" is hardly sufficient in matters of life and death, though, now is it?

Wounded though he was, Cloud Ghost commenced to beat Kenji within an inch of his life, knocking him unconscious without actually injuring him in any way. It was Rackhir, wielding a sword for a change, who finally took Cloud Ghost down.

At this point, a veritable throng of attackers emerged from the monastery, led by a large fellow with curiously empty eyes and a distressingly long chain….

While all this occurred, I was descending the tower stairs as hastily as dignity and common sense allowed. I could hear Blub-Blub's gabblings from below, echoing through the tower, but could make no sense of his words.

When at last I reached the base of the tower, I found a pair of locked cells. Both had been flooded, and one contained Blub-Blub's kinfolk. The other, a rather damp greengrocer.

It was a work of seconds to open both of the locks; they were poorly made, and badly maintained, and no match for a mechanical genius like myself..

As we struggled our way back up the stairs, a horde of babbling fish-men at our heels, I endeavored to explain the situation to Daikon. He seemed a bit confused, and understandably so, but was almost pathetically grateful to have rescued by the reknowned Burne.

DAIKON HAD NEVER HEARD OF BURNE, AND I DON'T THINK THAT HE LIKED HIM MUCH. WHAT A SURPRISE.