Aaron shook his head at Jonee's mention of 'others'. "No, of the core group, none but myself are part of my force, here. Luke remains behind me, back at the position from whence I delivered these men." he shrugged. "Luke's not one for company, mostly. He stayed behind to spy on a force we learned was arrayed near us at the time. I only hope he hasn't dug himself into worse trouble."

He eyed the weapon Jonnee presented with a curious eye. The progress of war continued apace, it seemed. He pointed a thumb back in the direction his force had come.

"Luke, Crethe and myself happened upon Gnecht and his forces, staying put to tend to their wounds. I was on my way back to my original post, to reinforce, get an update on combat by the Scar in Arden proper and get these men some rest." He smiled, the expression pulling the scars on his face this way and that. "But it looks like you brought the reinforcements yourself. Perhaps I'll drop these few off at your main force for tending."

The Brintizzi were a formidable group of people, one Aaron considered he'd have to study under when he had a chance. "I don't know your plans, but I'm certain Luke could use backup. However," he paced, getting closer to Jonnee. "Last I recall, we were being followed. I don't know if it was one of your rangers moving ahead of your force or not, but we've been shadowed since I pulled this group through the Worlds. Did you encounter anyone other than the usual on your way here?"

"No, nothing out of the ordinary.  Of course with what I've seen since I was tattooed and started crossing Shadow, 'ordinary' is relative.  And it was probably one of my scouts you saw.  They brought me word that you were around, but they didn't know who you were.  That's why I was out here, to see who was walking about this close to my army."

Jonnee thinks for a few moments, "You're welcome to drop your men off at my camp, it's only a couple of miles or so... "  He considers, briefly, then points, "... that way.  I got a few people who can stand in for medics, and do a decent job of it."

"After that, we can go drag Luke's ass out of whatever fire he's walked into.  It'll be like old times again, only with more grey hair."

Aaron's relief was palpable, the set of his shoulders dropping as he visibly relaxed at Jonnee's confirmation. "That's good to hear. Give me a few moments and I'll get things set up on my end. These guys need a break." He clapped Jonnee on the shoulder and turned, catching Gnecht eventually and updating him on the situation.

"I'm going to take the wounded further on, to the depths of the main force, so they can be given medical attention. Any others who just want a bit of rest can come as well, but I'd rather trust your judgement regarding who's moving on with us into the battle ahead. After I drop off your wounded, the rest of your cadre and myself are going to hook up with Jonnee Kay's force and take it to the enemy. Sound good?"

He waved Crethe over. "You're coming with me also, obviously. I'm going to get you properly outfitted. I want you at my left hand." He frowned for a moment, wondering how long it would be before he'd be able to meet both of her eyes, recalling an old darkness of his own, when his vision was very one-sided, in more ways than he could list. "Let me know if you can think of anything you'd prefer as far as equipment. I can... acquire most anything you'd need."

Yes, you go ahead and start up that rite, Luke considers.  He'll need to watch it, himself.  Get an idea of what the being intends.  Could actually go with leaving the soldier here to subvert the rite, but...Aaron probably wouldn't like that.  The soldier certainly wouldn't.

Oh, why not try being the better man for a change?

So now it's time to wait for that food to be called, seeing as the torment hasn't yet begun.  Luke wants no more than three people in the tent to affect a rescue, given his lack of knowledge of these beings' capabilities - two of said people himself and the captive.

Hilatavichus leaves the tent, and his voice can be heard outside, speaking to another man, though the words are indistinct.  A moment later he returns, scowling.  "Damned venison again.  I'd give my soul for a bit of roast pork."

"You should not joke about such things, Hilatavichus."

"Oh, believe me... I never joke about a good meal, brother.  I grow sick of venison."

It's Igronitiandach's turn to scowl, he starts towards the exit, "I have duties of my own to attend.  If I see the cook, I'll ask him to put some extra venison on your platter, shall I?"  And then he's gone, without waiting for an answer.

The commander pours some wine, shaking his head and smiling to himself...
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:11, Sun 08 June 2014.

"You're in command here, Aaron.  I'll let my people know what's happening, so there won't be any misunderstandings."  Jonnee turns away and gives a long, low whistle.  There is a blur of movement, and two of the Brintizzi are standing before him.  They've changed since Aaron first saw them.  Their scales are daubed with patches of coloured pigment, in shades of green, brown and black, and a number of the overlapping scales around the neck have had small holes drilled through them near the tips.  Lengths of copper and silver wire have been looped through them, and support a variety of beads and feathers.

Jonnee engages them in a conversation in a language that hovers on the edge of Aaron's understanding...  Some instructions for the people at his camp, and something about injured troops.

Gnecht nods to confirm that he comprehends Aaron's instructions, "Understood Sir.  Likely half my boys's fit enough to fight, but like as not three-fourths'll claim to be.  I'll see to it as the fit ones's is cut out from the keen ones."

Crethe tilts her head to one side and gives Aaron a smile, "You speak as if you believe you have any say in the matter.  You could not stop me if I chose to follow you, which I do.  You may command these troops, but you do not command me."

"As for gear... I have my blade, but I'd be happier with a mail shirt and a steel cap to go with it.  Nothing heavier though."

Jonnee turns back, and the Brintizzi blur away into the forest...

Certainly things just got a whole lot easier.  Hopefully.  Luke couldn't be 100% sure, of course, and was still taking a chance, but this certainly could work for him.  He'd need to snag the sorcerer, as well, but starting with the prisoner would be best he figured.  Of course, he could only carry one person at a time, and would also need to assist the prisoner.

That meant this fellow had become superfluous, which suited the dark man just fine.

He waited until the man took a sip of his wine, then stepped up and stabbed him through the neck with one of his own torture knives, viciously wrenching it to sever the windpipe.  The...creature...might not carry its veins and arteries in the same place, but at the least this would prevent it from calling out.

Hilatavichus gives a gasp of surprise, and then falls like a sack of potatoes to lay motionless on the ground in a spreading pool of (presumably) blood - though the yellowish colour makes that uncertain.

Which leaves a concealed Luke alone with a confused looking prisoner.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:12, Sun 08 June 2014.

"Test complete," Luke muttered.  With a wave of his hand, he froze the blood solid; the creatures around here had some kind of enhanced senses, and he'd rather they not pick up that there had been copious spillage. "At least I know they die just as easily as anything else."

It had been a concern.

Quick steps brought him over to the prisoner, and Luke took the man's arm, including him in his own concealment.  This required effort, but he was fairly certain to be up to the task.  "Quiet," the dark man cautioned.  "I'm sure you've figured out by now this is a rescue."

Pausing, he glanced back at the body on the floor.  Then, after a moment's consideration, included the fluids within the corpse with the freezing process.  Better to make sure it didn't get up again, for whatever reason.

Afer that, it was a matter of working on the man's bonds.

The prisoner regards the corpse on the floor with something that looks a lot lome shock.  He remains silent as Luke releases him, then staggers over and kicks the fallen man, hard, between the legs.  "Huh!  Dead...  Damn!" he grunts, with a frown.

Then he turns back to Luke, hissing, "Not wanting to seem ungrateful, lad, but where in the name of all that's holy did you spring from?"  Without waiting for a reply, he moves across to the desk and starts sorting through the papers scattered across the surface.  Occasionally picking one up and turning it to get better light as he squints at it.

The documents start to form into two distinct groups...  "Might be able to salvage something."

Jonnee's camp is more like a small city of tents, in a steep-sided valley.  The army is well disciplined, and quiet.  Mostly Brintizzi, but with a fair mix of other peoples mingled in with them.  Aaron watches as Crethe puts on a mail shirt and adjusts the straps until it sits more comfortably.

"Not a bad fit, considering."  She places a cap on her head, steel covered with green-dyed leather.  "Not exactly the made-to-measure armour I used to wear on ceremonial occasions.  But that was designed to turn heads, not blades."

"This'll do."
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:35, Sun 06 Apr 2014.

"Lad."  Luke chuckled.  "I've ways to walk unseen," he continued.  "It'll help getting us out of here, and back to your people.  But I've a ritual to check on first, and you...apparently have papers."  One eyebrow cocked.  The man was a professional, given his composure, so it was pointless getting into an argument over the value of the information versus the amount of time they had.

It was important.  Period.

On the other hand, it would be good to know the specifics. "Talk while you work.  What is so critical about these papers?"

"They're my one chance of salvaging something from this mess.  I was supposed to find out what plan our friend there was working to.  Pick his mind apart while he questioned me.  Now I'll just have to make do with whatever he had written down."

The former prisoner almost seems irritated at having been rescued, as if it were a minor inconvenience to be worked around.

"I don't know your name, but I've seen you with the other agents - the woman with the lizard and Bleys' man - so since they're apparently trusted, I suppose you are as well.  Ah... here we are."  He picks up one of the papers, and compares it to two others.  From Luke's perspective, they appear to be two roughly drawn maps and a list of some kind.

"I seem to have erred," Luke muttered, dryly.  Far from being annoyed with the man's attitude, his irritation was with himself.  "Should have tried a mind-dive myself, but didn't want to chance entering a mental war in the middle of an enemy camp.  Blast."

His eyebrow cocked.  "'With the other agents'.  Curious choice of words.  Revealing one, in fact.  I wouldn't happen to be in the presence of royalty, would I?  Please don't prevaricate - it makes working together if we have some idea of each other's capabilities."

He paused. "So, that's one reason she does that all the time," Luke muttered after a moment's thought, before continuing.  "In any case, if we do work together here, we might be able to salvage even more.  Like, snagging that other fellow and getting the information out of him."

"Royalty?  No.  But I work for them though.  One of them, at the very least.  Don't ask which one because I won't tell you, and I have the means to defend myself if anybody tries to find out."  He sorts through the papers once again and adds another to the three he has already chosen.

"If the priest has the information, he might prove useful, yes.  I suspect that their more bestial form marks the troops as little more than slaves, with the more human looking officer and the priest their masters."

"The papers give locations that will be attacked, but they don't say when.  If you have a plan for finding and questioning the priest... what was his name?  Igronitiandach?  I'm all ears."

"I don't give a damn which one," Luke snapped. "Capabilities, remember?  I'm more interested in hows and whats than whos and whys.  If you're not royalty, it means you don't have their capacities.  Aside from a quick mind and some obvious skill, what have you got in your 'means to defend'?"

He crouched down next to the body, studying it, absorbing its signature.  "Every world leaves a mark, as does growth and change," Luke murmured. "This one and the priest come from the same stock.  In a camp full of lesser beings, it shouldn't be hard to find him.  And I'll get us there the same way I got myself here - quietly."  He shot a glance at the other man.  "Quiet seems something you're good at, so no problem there.  Also, I'm disinterested in playing the 'your name first!' game; these days, I go by Luke."

"Luke it is.  I'm Talbot."

The agent, whoever he works for, grins at Luke.  "I'm not from Amber, and I have certain abilities that Amberites tend not to possess."  He holds out a hand towards the other man, and the skin grows hairier as the hand takes on a distinctly paw-like appearance.

"And the changes aren't just on the outside."  The other hand, the untransformed one, comes up, and he taps one finger against the side of his skull.  "What's in my skull stays there until I decide it's time to let it out.  That goes for my own secrets, and those I learn from others.  Nobody but me can fetch them out again."

"Lead on, Luke.  Let's find the priest."

"All right, Talbot."  Luke briefly considered going with 'Laurence', then dropped the idea.  "That's fair enough, and a useful set of talents you've got.  If you can do anything beyond going wolf, I suggest cutting down on your scent.  And try to stay as quiet as possible.  I'm not exactly at my best these days, and shrouding two people isn't my usual Em-Oh."

"These things have top-notch senses and hair-trigger aggression; if they pick up on anything, they might throw something at it.  I can't cover you if you eat a spear and start bubbling blood everywhere."  Reaching out with his mind, he sought out the specific signature of the priest, something similar to that of the interrogator rather than the other beings in the camp.

Once he located his quarry, Luke spun the same web of non-sight and muffling about both himself and Talbot, leaving them free to see each other.  More dimly, of course, but still possible.  "Here we go," he muttered.

Aaron chuckled. "Well, I've found that utility tends to trump fashion when it comes to war. Still, I've certainly seen my share of the opposite, on occasion. Why, I seem to remember a commander who dressed in jet and gold..." he trailed off. "Too gaudy for me."

"Alright," he said, once Crethe was settled and he found himself suitably prepared. "Time to gather the rest of the troops together and get moving. Best not to keep Luke waiting."

Talbot chuckles, "I have a few more tricks up my sleeve."  The paw sprouts feathers, then scales, and then something that looks like leaves.  "I'll see what I can manage."  Leaves start to appear on the other hand, and his neck, before spreading to his face.

And the air in the tent starts to smell of growing things...

Within a couple of minutes th transformation is complete, and the two leave the commander's tent, shrouded by Luke's web of invisibility.

And find the camp oddly quiet.  Most of the enemy seem to be drifting across to one end of the clearing.  Unfortunately Luke's senses tell him that the priest is over that way too...

Aaron quickly discovers that the troops are already gathering.  Jonnee waves an arm towards them, "Word got around, and some of the Brints were getting bored, so they asked permission to volunteer.  I told them they can volunteer if they like.  You know what they're like Aaron?  All tied up in honour and fighting fair, but they won't let you down, and the tougher the enemy, the happier they are.  Of course, once they started talking about volunteering, so did some of the others."

"So you have a few hundred troops there, and I'll volunteer too, if you'll have me.  Just take your pick.  Take them all with you, if you want."

"Neat trick," Luke mused, honestly. "And good use of it...that'll help no end.  It'd cover up my own scent...if I had any."  He doesn't right now.  Scent was something that, for Luke, happened to be a choice.

Once out of the tent, he frowned in concentration.  "This could get tricky." Luke pointed, whispering. "Priest that way.  Everyone going...that way.  Let's keep going."  Shaking his head in disbelief - Why me? - he continued in that direction, avoiding heavier concentrations of their enemeies.

Perhaps, Luke pondered, it might be time for a smiting.  Old-school, he considered.  Real fire and brimstone.

Like father, like son, he supposed.

Luke and Talbot make their way across the camp and find themselves at one edge of a large open area.  Most of the troops are there, apart from stragglers still drifting in.

At the far end is a platform, standing head high for a man, a little less for these troops.  Igronitiandach is there, looking out over the gathering crowd, hands folded in front of him.  Behind him are a handful of humans, the quality of their clothing indicating that they are officers.

And an Archon.

At least it looks like an Archon, a danioti, until Luke realises that it isn't spinning.  And that it's made of copper.  It stands upon a metal frame, behind Igronitiandach.

"Looks to me like we've got a bit of a cult," Luke mused. "They're worshipping it, you think?"  His eyes narrowed.  "I'm going to let you in on a little secret.  Somewhere around here, there's a very, very powerful mind or group of minds, operating in parallel.  Also, we've both heard the name of what I think is an Archon - Stashil."

Still watching the growing crowd, he continued to murmur.  "The thing is, I'm not sure I'm up to taking on this group-mind.  In fact, I KNOW I'm not.  An Archon...that's a different matter.  But not many of them.  So I hope you're quick on your feet, as well."

Talbot studies the faux Archon, "That's what the enemy commanders look like?  I've heard descriptions, but I've never seen one.  I can be fast, if you need it.  But if I have to fight something like that I need to know something about them."

"Do they have any weaknesses or vulnerable spots?"

He edges a little to one side, and a couple of yards closer, "All very well my fighting one, but if I don't know where to hit it, it won't do much good."

"Or did you have something else in mind?  Running perhaps?"

Igronitiandach starts to speak.  "My brothers, Stashil, messenger of the true gods, has spoken to me this very morning.  He says that the gods have promised victory.  Tomorrow we will march on Amber, and an army of ängels with us.  Amber will fall within a matter of days, and its power will be broken!"

Further speech becomes impossible, as the crowd errupts in a chorus of whoops and hoots...

"Devil take it," Luke ground out, then grinned at the irony.  "Those things are vulnerable to anything that affects metals, or something that stops their movement," he mused.  "I've seen them bore through solid rock, so they're pretty tough as well.  Then there are some made of fire, or lightning...there's ice as well, but we shouldn't be facing any of those here, they're on our side."

"But this means they're moving on Amber with Archons this time.  In force.  I've seen that, and it was hell winning against them, even with other Archons helping us.  I hope your bosses are really on the ball, and they're going to need warning.  So yes, running sounds good right about now."

He snorted a laugh.  "Too damn bad they're also fast as...hell."  More irony, but no time to recognize it. "We have to get back to Aaron, and then to Amber.  They need to hear about this.  Now."

Talbot turns his head to regard Luke, his neck creaking like a tree in a steady breeze.  "I have enough information, between the documents and what we've heard here, to enter a worthwhile report."

"By all means, let us away from here, before our friends discover our presence."

He starts to pass Luke, apparently heading for the edge of the crowd...