Open Chronicles Lifestyles of The Rich and Famous

[Rhenn Willowood]

Commander Willowood

As you know, I received a distressing letter from Aliman Cubworth one week ago. Aliman's mental state has been declining for some time, but this message shows the situation to be more dire than I anticipated. Cubworth claims the Ancients have told him that Valenntenia is 'obsolete'. He says that he has constructed 'divine weapons' that he aims to wage war against us with, unless I step down from my position and the Guardians are immediately abolished.

I am worried about Aliman's well being, but more concerning is that his daughter, Aria, is in the home with him. Any attempts to reach either her or her father since the initial letter have been met with silence. Aliman is aging and ill, but Aria is but a young woman, about to begin service in the Vanguard in only a year. I pray he would not do harm to his daughter, but I can wait no longer for him to come to his senses. You are to infiltrate the Cubworth Estate, rescue Aria and arrest Aliman.

Normally, I would offer the assistance of The Guardians for such a perilous task. Unfortunately, I am unable to provide such help, as most of them have dispersed across the world now that Homecoming has come to a close. This being the case and as our ranks are thin, I have spent the last week sending out requests for aid across the continent. I'm authorizing the aid of any foreign entity or bounty hunter in this assignment.

Be careful, Commander. Aliman is a renowned tinkerer. I fear he may have methods of deterring entry and navigation of his home in place. May the Ancients guide you.

-Solomon Regis.
​

"Commander Willowood? What does it say? When are the reinforcements arriving?"

The black-clad silhouette gripped the parchment with silent fury as he read the words of the Absalon written finely on the page. The nerve of that fossil of a man. First, he was dragged out into the field because the local kook had finally fallen completely off of his rocker, and then he had the gall to hire mercenaries to help him?

Rhenn Willowood did not need help from strangers. He was a Vanguard Commander, a former Guardian of The Rune. Only a few years ago, everybody in this damned city spoke of 'The Disease Darkwalker' with reverence and fear.

"There are no reinforcements." Rhenn tossed the parchment aside in disgust, the vitriol in his voice enough to cause even his own soldiers to shrink away from him. "We're on our own, unless somebody looking for a payday shows up."

Rhenn stood with two Vanguard recruits in front of a large iron gate surrounded by tall, stone walls. Beyond lay the Cubworth Manor, one of the largest in the city. It sat ominously under the cloudy dusk sky, a fog embracing it like a silent omen, a sullen hint of the darkness that was festering inside. Getting inside would be a task in and of itself, but even once they managed that, finding Aria and Aliman would be an equal chore.

It was one of the few times he'd been hoping for extra hands.

"Well... what do we do, then?" Asked the other recruit, a young woman. "I mean, it looks safe enough. Do we just walk up and kick down his door?"

Willowood quickly shook his head, leaning in close to the bars of the gate and motioning towards the dense fog that covered the path to the manor. "No. That fog isn't natural. He's using it to cover something up, I'm certain of it. Traps, probably. What kind, I don't intend to find out, but--" If it were anybody else, it would be the last words they spoke. Rhenn caught the gleam of light just before it reached him, quickly ducking back behind the wall as the bolt of a crossbow threaded through the iron gate and buried itself in the ground.

"What a warm welcome..." Rhenn scowled down at the projectile that had nearly taken his life. "Aliman better hope one of you find him before I do..."

 

[alphabunny]

Rou had spent most of her morning hung over in The Red Raven, an Inn she had spent the nice previously with a well stocked bar downstairs.

The half-elf had taken some time off of her trade recently. Since fighting a fucking demon with a half her leg immobile she thought a well deserved break was in order - that was until her coffers started running low. The Red Raven was a half days ride from where messenger had said a possible job was, not many other details were given - they normally weren't until she arrived anyways.

Stumbling out of the Inn, eyes still groggy and hair in disarray, she belted up her leathers and 'borrowed' a horse posted nearby and rode to the meeting place alongside the rising sun.

Rhenn Willowood

 

[Vandor Colton]

Somebody looking for a payday showed up. He had a sword and a shield and two good hands. Mercenary, bounty hunter, he was a sellsword to put it one way or the other, and he sported a suit of armor. No shiny surface, plain as day, but maintained as much as sword and shield and beard as he neared his destination, eyes peeled.

Manor over there, his objective, with fog on the path to the lot. Tinkerers. The sellsword tutted. Tricksters, in other words. He caught a gleam of light just then but had no need to duck for it was not aimed at the sellsword. It was evidently aimed at one of two persons ducking behind a wall to evade the bolt coming their way.

The mercenary came their way. Having witnessed what had just happened, he made sure to stay safe by approaching his quarry alongside the wall so as to not get shot through the gate. He moved carefully but not silently; he had no desire to get shot by his partners out of surprise.

“Not much of a welcoming ceremony,” the mercenary offered casually as he approached, a helmet on his head with the visor open and a hand resting on the hilt of the sword sheathed at his hip. “Vandor Colton. Mercenary. At your service.”

Rhenn Willowood alphabunny

 

[Rhenn Willowood]

Rhenn wasn't sure what shocked him more, that anybody had bothered to heed the old man's pathetic call for reinforcements, or that the few who showed up didn't look entirely incompetent at first glance. The sound of approaching hooves drew the gaze of the two soldiers already with Willowood, but the Darkwalker himself offered nary a glance in their direction aside from confirming they were there.

He hadn't asked them to come here, so they should expect no gratitude. If they wanted praise, they could go grovel at Solomon Regis' feet like everybody else in the damned city. Instead, he spoke only when he felt their presence behind him, crouched behind the large stone wall that encircled the estate.

"Crazed old man with a penchant for tinkering, alchemy, and trap-work. One possible hostage. He's posted up high with a crossbow, the bastard."

Rhenn turned his head to size up his new help more properly. A slender young woman wrapped in tight leathers, equipped with dagger and bow, not too dissimilar from Willowood himself. Beside her, a man clad in armor. Nearly the textbook definition of a sellsword, Rhenn would have written him off completely were it not for the age on his armor.

For a plate like that to lose its luster, it had to have gone through use. The mercenary had been at this long enough without dying for it to show.

"Commander Willowood. This is Vanguard Izabell and Vanguard Ferren." Rhenn quickly sped through introductions, just as another bolt ricocheted off of the top of the gate and flung harmlessly over their heads. A warning shot, reminding them of the threat. "You. Archer. If we distract him, can you make a shot from this distance?"

alphabunny Vandor Colton

 

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Rou sized up the the cross bow shooting off in their direction. Her normal approach would be coming in another way - a servants entrance perhaps but her group was already noticed - they needed to move swiftly and quickly.

"I can take out the shooter," The Commanders request was nothing new, more often then not she worked from a distance until in close range when her dagger then finished the job.


"What do we do from there?"
Rhenn Willowood Vandor Colton