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..."

 

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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

 

[alphabunny]

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

 

[Vandor Colton]

Willowood. Vandor liked the sound of that name. It had a ring to it; less like the swing of steel in the wind, more like laying leisurely in a hammock between trees beneath a forest canopy, or something. Izabell. Now there was a name worth its weight in power as much as its prettiness. Ferren. Well, that one sounded like ‘ferret’ to him but he was not one to render judgment on naming conventions.

The sellsword simply gave a simple nod to each person in his presence. They sped through introductions in less seconds than it took for a bolt to ping in between. Getting shot at wasn’t a good thing but he was used to it and those bolts weren’t fooling anyone with how they missed his head.

Archer. Was that this other person’s name or simply their occupation? Vandor had apparently missed that aspect of introductions but no matter. What was enough for his ears was her confirmation that she could take out the shooter.

“Splendid.” The sellsword responded as he shifted his shield into his grip. “After you shoot at him then we head in, arrest him and rescue the package, and be back home in time for tea and crumpets, I imagine.” Basic speech but basically Vandor figured he had the right of it. Either way, he didn’t wait.

“I’ll lead.” On his own or in league, the sellsword moseyed out from behind cover just as a bolt pinged off his shield. He could move as quickly as he could block, had his armor on to help deflect the threat, and his sword out to send the message that he was coming to stab that crossbowman. Maybe then he wouldn’t expect an arrow instead.

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[Rhenn Willowood]

Rhenn already liked the woman's style. She hadn't wasted his time with pleasantries, simply asked what was needed of her and confirmed she was willing to do it. Why couldn't everybody be so easy to work with? Izabel and Ferren were still too fresh-faced for that; they allowed their feelings to come first, and fear was a very powerful feeling.

"The old bastard's crafty, so he's probably armored and has cover up there. Take your shot, and we'll move in while he's distracted. Vandor can take point and we'll head through the gates." It was still risky, not knowing whether or not to expect traps on the path leading up to the manor, but they were taking too long, and Rhenn didn't have any other options. "Iz, Fer, use your trainers and keep him distracted so the lady can line up her shot."

The pair of Vanguards exchanged a wary look before nodding. They posted themselves at either end of the gate, reaching into their outfits to retrieve small, flat stones with glowing shapes etched into the face. Izabell's stone glowed red, and Ferren's yellow. Once the shooter was in position, the ducked out into the open firing searing projectiles from their stones, bolts of flame and lightning whizzed up towards the small window the crossbow bolts rained down from.

The stones weren't accurate at long range, but they would keep their attacker busy while...

"Now! Take your shot!"

alphabunny Vandor Colton

 

[Vandor Colton]

Vandor knew that he couldn’t just move ahead all by himself without taking into account the threat level of this tinkerer and his traps along the path. That wasn’t his plan. The sellsword with his sword and shield was more like the tank. The sore thumb that stuck out. He was the shield. The cover. The distraction. The target for this tinkerer if all went according to plan.

Hunkering behind his shield, with his armor being no joke, a crossbow bolt could yet find its way through plate so he had to watch out for that too. However, just in time, his companions moved alongside. They cast bolts of flame, stones, also bolts of lightning, and Vandor Colton did the same.

Brave, maybe, but action was his habit, combat was his trade. Battle was his name and how he got paid. His shield crackled, a current of electricity cutting across its surface bereft of heraldry. As bolts flew toward him, potentially from machinery rather than some simple weapon in his grip, wind roared from the sellsword’s defense, and lightning cackled, a wave making those bolts soar away no matter the mechanism.

“Take your shot!” Rhenn Willowood exclaimed. The next moment the shot was taken. Then the projectiles from the window stopped coming. “Good!" Vandor proclaimed. “Now let’s take this tinkerer so I can get paid.” The spellsword moved forth into the fray.

Rhenn Willowood alphabunny

 

[alphabunny]

"Now! Take your shot!"

On command, Rou did just that.
An arrow whizzed through the air, flame and lighting dancing at its side as it found its target.

Rou was a women of few words, especially on the job. She would come in - follow orders and do what needed to be done. The half-elf was not one to ask questions or pretend to hold a moral high ground; these aspects of her personality is what had made her into the mercenary she was today - traits honed from her life in the shallows and even more so as her career went on.

When the onslaught seemed to stop she slung her bow over her shoulder. Daggers in hand she followed the group into the compound.

Rhenn Willowood Vandor Colton

 

[Rhenn Willowood]

The moment he gave the order, his new favorite archer let lose a single arrow towards the window they were being shot from. She even put a little extra 'oomph' on it, judging from the crackle of electricity and the burst of heat that brushed the exposed skin of his cheek. Good on her, as long as she didn't accidentally cook the poor bastard up there. He was worth more alive.

Rhenn couldn't hear the impact from behind the wall, but when the impact of bolts against the bricks stopped he had to assume the woman's aim had been true enough to make Aliman think twice about posting himself up there. They had their window, but it wasn't going to last long.

"Now! Move!"

Willowood quickly reached over and hit the iron bars of the gate with a powerful blast of wind from his palm, snapping the chain holding it shut and allowing the doors to swing open uselessly. Vandor charged through first, his massive shield defending the rest of them as they formed up behind. The shimmering bolts from Colton's shield pierced the thick fog, revealing the cobble path that led to the doors of the estate...

As well as the glowing cantrips placed along it.

"Colton, it's a trap!"

The path burst into flames the moment they set foot on it, tall orange tongues of fury reaching out for anything to scorch and melt. The runes were effective but hasty; already the yard too began to burn, dry grass igniting and flaring up around them as a wall of fire quickly expanded before them.

alphabunny Vandor Colton

 

[Vandor Colton]

They had their window. In more ways than one. Glad that he wasn’t alone in the endeavor to advance toward this window of opportunity and corporeal, Vandor moved forward as one with his companions. A blast of wind pushed forth the gates open. The sellsword flourished his sword, twirling it in his grip, for no other reason than to steady himself as he readied his hands, moving his feet into the breach as if on a steed.

He knew he was dealing with some treacherous alchemist, however, So Vandor did not run. He kept his shield up, the armor on his person serving as a shield as well, his blade ready to deal lightning like his contemporary, like the concave element of his mobile fortress.

The next moment, someone shouted. It wasn’t the enemy. Not the shout. However, the fire was most certainly from the owner of this domain. The sellsword stopped dead in his tracks as flame came up all around him. Mere feet away from his face, he allowed himself a moment to take aim of his surroundings.

“Wind!” Vandor roared toward his companions. “Or water, if anybody bloody has it!” The latter would douse this inferno if the water was proven so; the former would push back enough of the fire to allow Vandor to advance forward. Of which he would run, would not walk, would not stop, as long as the path was safe for him to advance to the entrance, past the gate, to the front door.

Rhenn Willowood Vandor Colton