talien
Community Supporter
To Reap the Whirlwind - Part 2a: Uninvited Guests
They arrived at the senator’s home at Quintus’ direction.
“Something’s wrong,” said Quintus.
“What?” asked Vlad.
“The gates,” he said. “They’re closed and locked, but the guards that should normally be stationed here are missing.”
Kham threw back his overcoat; five flintlocks were visible dangling from a bandolier across his chest and waist.
“I see you still have your handgonnes,” said Quintus. “Good, I was afraid you might be useless.”
Kham reached into one of the many pockets inside his overcoat and pulled forth a dagger instead. “First of all, they’re flintlocks,” he said as a small rod popped out of the back of the dagger. He shook the dagger, and lock picks sprung out of the rod.
Kham inserted the lock pick into the lock. With a flick of his wrist, Kham turned the dagger’s handle and the gate swung open. “Second, I’ve got plenty of skills you don’t know about.”
Quintus didn’t say anything as Kham bowed slightly, with one open palm towards the senator’s home.
As they approached, it was clear that the main door had been warped and shaped to create a circular opening.
“Trouble,” said Quintus. He lifted his spear and charged forward towards the door.
Vlad shrugged and ran after the legionnaire, sword out.
“What are you doing?!” hissed Kham as he drew two of his flintlocks.
“Saving the senator!” he shouted. His longspear struck the door and rammed it open.
Just inside the foyer, five guards lay strewn about. One particularly plump guard was snoring loudly, his hand still clutching his gladius.
There was a loud slap and a grunt from the adjoining room across from the atrium.
“Hurry,” came a woman’s voice, “this is taking far too long,”
Quintus didn’t stop. He and Vlad ran into the atrium, with Kham in tow.
“For the last time, senator,” said a harsh voice, “where is the boy?”
Within the room, tied to two rather expensive-looking red lacquered chairs inlaid with lion-shaped engravings, was Augustus Tensen-Balin. Another man they’d never seen before was with him, although by his swarthy complexion and hairstyle, he was probably of Myrantian descent. Both showed signs of a beating. The Myrantian had a black eye and swollen jaw.
Gathered around them was a small group of men. The leader wore a golden-striped toga. He reclined on an upholstered chair, with a golden goblet in one hand. Providing the beatings were a pair of burly Ulfilans wearing leather armor and broadswords strapped to their backs. A demon familiar was perched on the shoulder of the impatient young woman, mimicking her every move.
“Letum infernus!” shouted Quintus, lowering his spear and charging at one of the Ulfilans. Vlad advanced on the other.
It was all the two Ulfilans could do to draw their swords. “Kham,” shouted Quintus, “take out the woman!”
“And he’s back to giving orders,” said Kham with a sneer. “Look, I don’t want to hurt you,” he said to the woman.
“Oh, but I want to hurt you,” she said. She chanted, “magicus telum” and a glowing bolt of magical energy seared Kham’s chest.
“Ow, dammit! Now stop that!” Kham swung at her with the butt of his pistol, but she ducked out of the way.
The leader pointed at Kham. “Acid sagitta!” A spiraling bolt of acid splashed onto Kham’s coat, burning through the leather.
Quintus blocked a blow from one of the thugs with his large shield. “Just shoot her!”
“Fine, we can do this the hard way,” said Kham. He dropped the pistol and lunged for the woman.
“Magis attrecto!” said the woman, pointing at the pistol.
Behind Kham, the unattended pistol slowly rose and pointed at the back of his head.
Vlad was pulling his longsword out of the corpse of an Ulfilan when he looked up. “Kham, DUCK!”
Kham ducked just as the telltale KA-BLAM! of his pistol went off. When the smoke cleared, the woman had a large red hole in her head. She fell to the ground.
“Finally,” said Quintus. He yanked his spear out of his dead opponent.
“That’s just about enough of that,” said the leader. “Fuco aspergo!”
A bright cone of colors flashed from the man’s hand and washed over Vlad. He fell to the ground, stunned.
“Man, I hate Sebastian’s color magic,” said Kham. He picked up Jessica. “I’m not going to be as gentle with you,” he said to the leader.
“Stand in awe before the might of Illiir!” shouted Quintus, pointing his spear at the man. He instantly froze, bound by Quintus’ divine command.
Kham sauntered up to the leader and socked him in the jaw. He went down in a heap.
“I knew you named your pistols,” said Quintus. “But I didn’t know they could fire on their own.”
“Me neither,” said Kham. Then he lowered his voice to address his other pistols. “Don’t you ladies get any ideas.”
They arrived at the senator’s home at Quintus’ direction.
“Something’s wrong,” said Quintus.
“What?” asked Vlad.
“The gates,” he said. “They’re closed and locked, but the guards that should normally be stationed here are missing.”
Kham threw back his overcoat; five flintlocks were visible dangling from a bandolier across his chest and waist.
“I see you still have your handgonnes,” said Quintus. “Good, I was afraid you might be useless.”
Kham reached into one of the many pockets inside his overcoat and pulled forth a dagger instead. “First of all, they’re flintlocks,” he said as a small rod popped out of the back of the dagger. He shook the dagger, and lock picks sprung out of the rod.
Kham inserted the lock pick into the lock. With a flick of his wrist, Kham turned the dagger’s handle and the gate swung open. “Second, I’ve got plenty of skills you don’t know about.”
Quintus didn’t say anything as Kham bowed slightly, with one open palm towards the senator’s home.
As they approached, it was clear that the main door had been warped and shaped to create a circular opening.
“Trouble,” said Quintus. He lifted his spear and charged forward towards the door.
Vlad shrugged and ran after the legionnaire, sword out.
“What are you doing?!” hissed Kham as he drew two of his flintlocks.
“Saving the senator!” he shouted. His longspear struck the door and rammed it open.
Just inside the foyer, five guards lay strewn about. One particularly plump guard was snoring loudly, his hand still clutching his gladius.
There was a loud slap and a grunt from the adjoining room across from the atrium.
“Hurry,” came a woman’s voice, “this is taking far too long,”
Quintus didn’t stop. He and Vlad ran into the atrium, with Kham in tow.
“For the last time, senator,” said a harsh voice, “where is the boy?”
Within the room, tied to two rather expensive-looking red lacquered chairs inlaid with lion-shaped engravings, was Augustus Tensen-Balin. Another man they’d never seen before was with him, although by his swarthy complexion and hairstyle, he was probably of Myrantian descent. Both showed signs of a beating. The Myrantian had a black eye and swollen jaw.
Gathered around them was a small group of men. The leader wore a golden-striped toga. He reclined on an upholstered chair, with a golden goblet in one hand. Providing the beatings were a pair of burly Ulfilans wearing leather armor and broadswords strapped to their backs. A demon familiar was perched on the shoulder of the impatient young woman, mimicking her every move.
“Letum infernus!” shouted Quintus, lowering his spear and charging at one of the Ulfilans. Vlad advanced on the other.
It was all the two Ulfilans could do to draw their swords. “Kham,” shouted Quintus, “take out the woman!”
“And he’s back to giving orders,” said Kham with a sneer. “Look, I don’t want to hurt you,” he said to the woman.
“Oh, but I want to hurt you,” she said. She chanted, “magicus telum” and a glowing bolt of magical energy seared Kham’s chest.
“Ow, dammit! Now stop that!” Kham swung at her with the butt of his pistol, but she ducked out of the way.
The leader pointed at Kham. “Acid sagitta!” A spiraling bolt of acid splashed onto Kham’s coat, burning through the leather.
Quintus blocked a blow from one of the thugs with his large shield. “Just shoot her!”
“Fine, we can do this the hard way,” said Kham. He dropped the pistol and lunged for the woman.
“Magis attrecto!” said the woman, pointing at the pistol.
Behind Kham, the unattended pistol slowly rose and pointed at the back of his head.
Vlad was pulling his longsword out of the corpse of an Ulfilan when he looked up. “Kham, DUCK!”
Kham ducked just as the telltale KA-BLAM! of his pistol went off. When the smoke cleared, the woman had a large red hole in her head. She fell to the ground.
“Finally,” said Quintus. He yanked his spear out of his dead opponent.
“That’s just about enough of that,” said the leader. “Fuco aspergo!”
A bright cone of colors flashed from the man’s hand and washed over Vlad. He fell to the ground, stunned.
“Man, I hate Sebastian’s color magic,” said Kham. He picked up Jessica. “I’m not going to be as gentle with you,” he said to the leader.
“Stand in awe before the might of Illiir!” shouted Quintus, pointing his spear at the man. He instantly froze, bound by Quintus’ divine command.
Kham sauntered up to the leader and socked him in the jaw. He went down in a heap.
“I knew you named your pistols,” said Quintus. “But I didn’t know they could fire on their own.”
“Me neither,” said Kham. Then he lowered his voice to address his other pistols. “Don’t you ladies get any ideas.”
Last edited: