A Kingdom Divided: meomwt's WotBS Story Hour

[meomwt]

Chapter 1, Part 1: Farewell to the Old

New Year’s Eve, just before midnight.

The Poison Apple Pub was quiet and dark. Only the very observant would have noticed the chinks of light escaping through the cracks in the boards over the windows. Light made by Torrent, a pretty girl with a big axe, who was busily arranging a table and chairs in the middle of the floor.

There was a quiet knock on the alley door. Opening it a smidgen, and looking into the snowy night, Torrent couldn’t see anyone outside. Then, with barely a noise, an elf was gently pushing the door open and sliding through the crack. Scanning the room quickly, the female elf looked up.

“Greetings. My name is Isobella. I take it you are my contact?”

Torrent looked at the newcomer. She was dressed in dark clothing, a tabard and cloak which covered a darkened leather armour. Isobella’s eyes continued to sweep the room, scanning the nooks and corners to determine what was there.

“Yes indeed, I am Torrent. Welcome to the Poison Apple. Please, there is a keg of ale on the table – feel free to sup and celebrate the New Year.”

Isobella motioned towards the stairs. “With your permission, I would like to check the upper floor. I do not want to be disturbed this night.”

Torrent nodded. “By the by,” she said, “were you successful in finding assistance for our endeavour?“

“Aye,” came the reply, “three souls likely to want to evade the Inquisitors. They’re to make their own ways here, a group would attract attention.” As Isobella skipped up the stairs, there was a determined knocking on the door.

Peering through a crack in the portal, Torrent saw a blonde woman, scale mail clearly visible under her winter cloak, standing patiently in the snow. Dangling round her neck was a Holy Symbol of Hieroneous. She opened the door and smiled. “Can I help you?”

“Oh yes,” replied the lady. “I’m Sessia, and I’m here to see Torrent.”

Inviting her in, Torrent sighed inwardly. Guile and subterfuge were obviously not on tonight’s agenda.

Sessia sat down at the table and drew a tankard of beer. Torrent could hear Isobella pacing round on the upper floor, checking the guest rooms for unwanted intruders. By the time the elf returned to the tap room, the others she’d recruited had arrived and were seated. Next had been Shamus McGovern, a bright-faced type with an odd accent, whilst the final arrival had been Sylar, a dark-eyed, dark-clad gentleman with a strange demeanour.

Isobella tried the door to the kitchen: finding it locked, she poked at it with a probe before kicking it in disgust. Pacing the floor, she noticed a second door hidden behind a pile of tables. Enlisting the help of the burly Shamus, she untangled the wreckage. Behind the door lay an empty store-room, through which was the cold, empty kitchen. Satisfied, she returned to the taproom and declared herself satisfied.

Torrent ensured that all the tankards were charged and called for a toast. “Out with the old, in with the new,” she smiled. As they drank, Torrent outlined what was happening outside the tavern.

“The Overking of the Great Kingdom, Ivid the Undying, has not been seen or heard for three months. It is likely that he has died.”

“Ironic,” murmured Sylar.

“Now that there’s a power vacuum in the Great Kingdom, forces are at work to fill in the position. Leading contender is Leska, Leader of the Order of Inquisitors. She’s looking to demonstrate her authority by clamping down on spell-casters, and has been kidnapping magic-users of all types across the Great Kingdom.

“Gate Pass lies as a Free City between the Great Kingdom and the County of Sunndi. It has long been a thorn in Ivid’s side that Gate Pass is a Free City, he wanted to control trade through Gate Pass – even occupied the City, years ago – but now Leska is moving against us.

“An Army is closing in on Gate Pass – and the City Council has decided to invite them in with open arms. The Inquisitors will be allowed in, welcomed, and told to take any magic-users they like.

“As you can imagine, mages, clerics, bards and the like are leaving in droves – despite the City Gates having been closed off.”

Torrent paused and took a long draught from her beer. “We’re part of the Resistance, we want to keep Gate Pass free. We have vital information to take to Lyceum, a school for mages and a rallying point against The Great Kingdom. Normally, we’d send it using a Teleport spell, but of late, these have proved to be unreliable – several messengers have died, burned to a crisp, after using the spell. So, we need to take it by more conventional means.

“If you’re willing to help us obtain this information and get it to Lyceum, we’ll help you get out of Gate Pass. What do you say?”

Isobella looked up at the Cleric. “There’s a secret gate out of the Elvish Ghetto. We could head out that way.”

Torrent nodded approvingly. “That sounds good. Is the gate guarded?”

The elf paused. “I don’t know, but I’m sure we can take them out.”

There was an almost perceptible step back from the table from Torrent. “No, no, no… we can’t kill anyone – especially guards: we will need them to defend us against the Great Kingdom’s Armies. If we can get through without killing anyone, so much the better. If not, we’ll have to find an alternative.”

Isobella looked up sulkily. “It’s a suggestion. We can check the gate out.”

Sylar shifted in his chair. “Are there any other alternatives?”

“Possibly,” replied Torrent. “We can talk about them en route to the repository where I am due to pick up the information to go to Lyceum.”

Outside, across the city, bells started to sound out the New Year. The five strangers raised glasses and toasted each other. The ringing continued. Against the ringing, Isobella suddenly paused, ears pricked. Sylar looked up, too, eyes raised to the roof.

Someone, or something, was moving around – in the rooms Isobella had declared empty just minutes earlier…

 

[meomwt]

Chapter 1, Part 2: Into the Fire

New Year’s Day, just after midnight.

Drawing her sword, Isobella danced up the stairs. Sylar was behind, loading his crossbow. The others looked at each other in surprise, trying to work out what was happening.

As Isobella looked up, she could see a lightly armoured thug aiming a crossbow at her chest. Surprised, he fired a snap-shot at her, but her dash towards him had put his aim off and the bolt embedded itself in the ceiling of the stairwell. The elf reached him with a leap and slashed her sword across his chest. The intruder cried out in pain, blood welling up in the deep cut across his chest. He dropped the crossbow, his hands becoming useless and his eyes glazing.

At the sound of battle, the others roused themselves and headed towards the stairs. As they did so, there came a shout from outside: “Front door – go!” followed by a determined banging on the timbers. The door and surrounding frame rattled against the blow, but withstood the assault. From above came the shout, “There’s intruders up here!” which spurred them to head for the stairs.

Isobella dived between the wounded foe, sheathing her sword and readying her longbow. Down the landing, she could see a shadowy shape, with noises from the bedroom behind it. She notched an arrow and took aim.

Sylar, meanwhile, was aiming his crossbow at the wounded man. In his haste to finish him, however, he pulled at his shot and the bolt thudded into the landing wall behind him. He cursed and started to reload. Behind him, Sessia and Shamus pounded up the stairs. Torrent stood in the tap-room, hesitating as another lusty blow caused the doorframe to crack – but the timbers held firm.

Shamus barrelled up the stairs, past Sylar and into the wounded ruffian, pushing him back against the landing wall. Sessia followed, hesitating momentarily at the top of the stairs before deciding not to dispatch the wounded man. Along the landing, there was an exchange of fire between Isobella and the second assailant, which resulted in the intruder ducking behind the cover of the wall corner.

Downstairs, there was another crunching thump against the door, followed by a shout of frustration from the street. That made up Torrent’s mind, and she lumbered up the staircase. As she climbed, there was an awesome explosion from above, and she could hear the sound of debris falling into the taproom.

Above, the ceiling imploded, raining debris and fire down on the pub. The injured man on the landing was caught by a gobbet of flame, burning his face, and he collapsed in a heap. There were screams from below, too, but they went silent very quickly: it sounded as if there had been more on the upper floor, but the attack had killed them.

Isobella ran down the landing and fired an arrow into the intruder. He crumpled to the floor, his blood staining the boards. Behind him, now, Isobella could see a fire raging in the Master Bedroom – exactly where she’d been heading, having spotted a trapdoor to the roof in her earlier search.

Torrent assessed the condition of the wounded man. He might yet live. She started to drag his bleeding form across the landing. From below came a final, shattering crash, as the timbers in the door gave way under the continued assault.

The fugitives ran into the Bedroom, finding that the floor had largely collapsed under the bombardment. The roof was full of holes, but the trapdoor up was open and undamaged. Sessia dragged a chair under the trapdoor and started boosting the others up. Torrent, dragging the assassin’s body, suddenly cried in alarm, as a burning timber dropped from the door and fell onto the still form. His clothes caught fire, and Torrent dropped him in dismay. Below, through the holes in the floor, she spotted more intruders blundering about.

With help from Isobella, all of them managed to scramble onto the roof. The elf tied a rope to a stake on the edging and lowered it into the alley. Looking over the roof to the street, Sylar spotted a heavy-set man in armour mounted on a steed. Intoning in a dark tongue, he loosed a spell at the rider. The rider didn’t notice what had happened, but visibly slumped under the weight of his armour.

Shamus was the first to climb down the rope. He grasped it in both hands, swung his legs into space, let himself off the roof – and, weighed down by armour, fell like a stone into the snow lying on the alley cobbles below. There was a muffled thump. He didn’t move.

The rider, still confused by the weight of his armour, heard this and moved over to the alley. He scanned it, but Shamus’ body was hidden in the snow and the rider couldn’t make out anything unusual. As Sessia readied herself for the climb, Isobella scampered over to the front of the pub and loosed an arrow at the figure. Her shaft hit home, piercing his armour and injuring his abdomen. He spotted this enemy, and slid (uncomfortably) off his warhorse and grabbed his own bow. Taking aim, he shouted towards the pub “They’re on the roof!”, before trying to pull back the bowstring. Unaccountably, he found he hadn’t the strength to do so!

Sessia’s attempt to climb down the rope was as unsuccessful as Shamus’, but she managed to roll as she landed and took less of an impact. She drew her sword and charged the opponent in the street. Up above, Sylar had started to cast another spell, intoning in his strange, dark tongue once more. Before he had finished, however, Sessia’s swing with her blade had landed true, and the enemy had been dispatched.

Torrent slid down the rope, landing nimbly as a cat. Seeing Shamus’ broken form in the snow, she pulled a slim wooden rod from inside her tunic, muttered a word of command and pressed it to his chest. After a moment, he began to stir. Torrent bade him lie still, and repeated the process. The colour came back to his cheeks, and he stood with renewed vigour.

Sylar, rather than climbing, slid down the rope. With a final check down below Isobella climbed down the side of the pub, pulling at the rope as she landed. Cursing at the knot she’d tied up above, she signalled to the others to follow her as she ran behind the Poison Apple Pub and into the night.