At some point during the climb, Zuriel pulls Boreas discreetly aside. "If we want to keep who we are under wraps, we ought to avoid confronting demons or devils in front of any of these OSA folks. I can't suppress my reaction to the hell-damned, and I think it would raise some eyebrows if I light up like a midsummer's pyre without explanation.

Once the PARTY gains the highest floor of the tower, Zuriel waits for Boreas, as ostensible leader of the 'mercenary' group, to introduce themselves. He turns a critical eye to the OSA's war provisions, nodding appreciatively at their efficiency.

They've certainly got a handle on their defenses...any siege will require a concerted effort to succeed, likely at great cost. Barring any...intervention, of course.

"What's the defensive situation here?" he asks, thinking the question not out of place for a bodyguard. "What are the forces arrayed against you? It appeared as if the demons and devils were fighting amongst each other. Do you have any idea why?"

What he really wanted to know, of course, was how his father's forces were faring. He exchanges a brief look with Maeve, knowing she understood full well the worrying uncertainty of a father embattled.

I wish I could *do* something...
This message was last edited by the player at 02:07, Thu 24 July 2014.

Maeve gives Zuriel's shoulder a sympathetic squeeze, knowing full well how he feels.  If it had been her own father down there, she would have already been out on the battlefield mowing down demons in an attempt to reach his side.  As it is, she finds herself itching to join the fray.

"It *is* a remarkably well-equipped arsenal," she says, eyeing the rows of weapons with approval.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 934):

"So the front hasn't fallen then?" the young man asks, regarding Zuriel with a perplexed expression. "That's a relief. It hasn't been looking go-"

He stops himself and blinks, confused.

"Wait... Who did you say you were, again?"

"They're mercenaries," the man standing on top of the ladder calls down. "Didn't you listen to their spokesman a moment ago? VOLLEY, NORTH!"

He peers through the eyepiece periodically as he speaks, barking out orders as needed.

"Our defensive situation is untenable, at best. We are amply fortified and warded such that they cannot come and go as they please on our side of the land bridge, but our resources are limited. SET. FIRE! These demonic creatures do not share our concern for things like fresh water, healthy food, ammunition, and supplies. VOLLEY, EAST! I personally have been a bit busy with other things to ponder the nuances of demonic interracial squabbling. SOUTH, HOLD! If you came to help, feel free to pick up a bow."
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:28, Thu 24 July 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 935):

Keef rushes over to the largest bow or crossbow and attempts to help.

Chubbs hops around the room, noting that the defenses are flimsy, the supplies unsubstantial, the combatants lackluster and the whole place utterly dull.

We're here to help, but first we need to see your research, or at least a quick summary.  After that, we've come to bring you home.  The tower will stand on its own.  The geomancer saw to that.

The paladin's fingers itched to grasp a weapon to wield against the infernal onslaught, but he knew exposing his capabilities would be  unwise.

"And what of the crusaders?" he asks. "They concern me with their presence. How long have they been here, and  how are they keeping supplied? Surely your position in the tower is better than theirs out in the open?"

How is my father managing to withstand the combined might of the Nine Hells?

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 938):

I'm a cabin boy.  Keef notes as he tries to fall into synch with the other archers.  So if lions would help...

Maeve, more than pleased to assist, takes her composite longbow to try and shoot down some demons.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 937):

"Oh, who knows why the Flame does anything?" the commander shrugs. "From what I can tell, they have paladins and clerics aplenty to keep the heroic feasts flowing perpetually. NORTH! VOLLEY! When the company you keep includes those who can conjure food, drink, and medicine at will, you needn't worry about your supply lines. A luxury we cannot afford, I'm afraid."

"A strategic withdrawal for us, or for the research?" the commander quips, peering through the eyepiece once more. "I'm afraid -- EAST! VOLLEY! -- that the researchers are out in the field at the present. We're left holding the fort. Quite literally, I might add. Who knows when you'll have a chance to talk to one of th- BRACE!"

All the archers roll away from the windows, placing their backs against the wall and holding their ears. Moments later, a tremendous impact smashes against the spire, and fiery blasts pour into the windows for a brief moment. Seconds later, the fire is out, and the archers are back at their posts.

Several cast dubious glances at Keef as he struggles to lift a bow much taller than he is, but with the towering Maeve nearby, nobody says a word.

"As I was saying, we merely defend and maintain the spire, and protect the magicians and scientists as they conduct their work. We're been at this for at least an hour now, which means the attack is likely to end any moment. Devils and demons get bored easily, y'see, and are quick to turn on each other when the futility of their efforts creates sufficient confusion."

"If your extraction plan involves the tunnels, I'm afraid the mages won't go for it. Not after what happened to Basil."

For those confused about the general disposition: https://docs.google.com/drawin...-fTeqqVFKZPG58isswto
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:01, Thu 24 July 2014.

Ah, of course. Though if they have enough clerics to supply a host that size, they've attracted more of the actual priesthood than we thought. That's a good thing. Probably.

Basil? What happened to him? Lyriel asks, raising an eyebrow. We came from the tunnels. It wasn't that bad. At least, not as bad as the situation seems to be here.

She turns to Boreas. Garfunkle, I think it would be helpful to learn more about the research from the mages. Perhaps we ought to help hold off the assault until things calm down and we can venture out onto the peninsula?
This message was last edited by the player at 15:07, Thu 24 July 2014.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 942):

The commander interrupts from his post at the eyepiece.

"No need, no need. Looks like they're giving up... wait for it... what for it... yes! That's it, lads, bring it in! Double rations all around. Take a breather."

A ragged cheer goes up from the archers, but the younger man you spoke to initially mutters "Brings us up to, what, half a proper ration?" under his breath.

"Benson! Sentry duty, on the double," the commander barks at the mutterer, who takes the commander's place at the eyepiece after the officer climbs down. Moments latter, the air crackles with energy as three robed figures materialize in the center of the spire -- one of whom you recognize as the man that was healed when you arrived.

"It'll get worse before it gets better," one is nearly shouting, while the third rubs his temples wearily. "They keep saying that, and it keeps getting worse. When do we get to the good part?"

The three stop short as they notice the P.A.R.T.Y., and one swears audibly.

"Oh no... the front...?"

"Is secure!" the commander says, clapping the sputtering mage on the back. "Darris finally made good on his promise of a ticket home. Behold, the carriage he sent us."

The mages look at one another, then at the P.A.R.T.Y.

They are not amused.

"It's about time," the mage who was healed earlier says, rubbing his hands together with anticipation. "Right, then. What's the plan?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:23, Thu 24 July 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 943):

"Let's take a load off first, shall we?" another mage pipes up. "This place is filled with memories of near-death experiences."

The trio of mages and the commander accompany the P.A.R.T.Y. to a lounge a few floors down while the rank-and-file head to the kitchen or their bunks or the washroom for a little leisure time.

Once in the lounge, the mages plop down on various couches and cushions while the commander hangs back by the door. There is ample seating for everyone, if desired.

"Now then," the mage you saw healed says again. "What's the plan? And where Darris? This is too important for mercenaries."

We're very good mercenaries.  But the plan starts with your research.  We'll need to see what you've come up with.  Don't worry, you're getting out either way.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 945):

"Yeah? That wasn't part of the pl-" one of the mages begins, cutting off abruptly with a sharp elbow to the ribs from his compatriot.

"You must forgive Les," the elbower says. "He is often overeager, and muddles the details with his exuberance. What my obtuse companion meant to say is that good mercenaries are hard to come by, though those who label themselves as such are far more readily available. What proof have we that you can carry through with your claim to extricate us from this unfortunate circumstance in which we have been placed?"

The third mage motions to the bookshelves littering the room, each jammed with scrolls, books, and parchment.

"As for our research... there's been quite a bit. What subject interests you?"

Lyriel fixes the second mage with a haughty expression. It would seem to me that beggars can't be choosers, she sniffs. And that goes doubly so, I imagine, for those trapped with limited supplies between three rampaging armies. To answer your question, though, who do you think managed to spring Mah'mout from the Order prison in Umbr'iel? I see that he's managed to visit you since being freed...

Leaving the second mage to chew on that tidbit, she turns to the third mage, her expression softening to something much more pleasant. As for your research, I must say I'm interested in *all* of it. From what little I've gleaned from Darris, the work you're doing here is simply fascinating! She puts on her most winning smile, beaming at the  mage. I would love to see what you've managed to accomplish, despite the adverse situation. I'm particularly interested in the nature of the tower itself. How exactly is it that it serves as an anchor point for the plane? Once all the towers have been constructed, what are the inter-planar mechanics by which they interact? I just find it all so intriguing!

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 947):

"All of it? Really? Some of it is quite complex," the mage says in a patronizing voice. "Perhaps we could provide a more concise summary in easy-to-digest tidbits?"

"Preferably as we make our way out," the commander interrupts, glancing out the room's shielded window. "Looks like the thrice-damned Flamebringers are forming into another punch-through wedge."

The mages mutter to each other and stand, giving Zuriel a chance to steal a glance out the window himself. The paladin recognizes the beginnings of a formation known as the Righteous Thrust, a maneuver that is indeed used to punch through barricaded areas with an augmented cavalry charge that can shatter all but the staunchest phalanx formation... which is not a formation being utilized by the OSA's wall of constructs.

[Private to Zuriel Silendril: As you watch, you could swear you see the Command Banner banner near the front, a blaze of gold amid a sea of green that symbolizes the presence of the Command Staff]

"The ice wall didn't help last time," Les complains. "And they're so resistant against fire already that I see no point in trying the fire wall."

"We had some success with the blade barriers," one of the others responds. "But really what we ought to do is sweep the lot of them into the chasm."

The others nod their agreement and head toward the staircase, then pause and turn toward the P.A.R.T.Y.

"How quickly can you be ready to execute the escape plan? We can be packed in five minutes, and once we're out, we can discuss our research at length to your heart's content."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:22, Thu 24 July 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 948):

"Make it two minutes," the commander says, still glancing out the window. "Or less. That's... that's the entire army, rank and file, taking up a formation that's about the width of the bridge..."

He backs up several steps, closing his eyes to center himself.

"Get yourselves and your research to safety," he says. "The lads and I... we don't matter. We knew that going in. We'll buy you the time you need."

The mages look at each other, then one steps forward to clasp the commander's hand firmly.

"We will meet again, my friend," the mage says. "I'd say give 'em hell, but..."

The commander nods, barking out a forced laugh before cupping a hand to his mouth to bellow up the staircase.

"TO ARMS! MOVE IT! FRONT AND CENTER!"

He spares another glance at the mages, and his eyes soften.

"Until the world's made new, then."

"For the end is nigh," the mages respond automatically.

With a final nod, this time more to himself than anyone else, the commander hurries down the staircase -- followed swiftly by a dozen or so soldiers.

Immediately afterward, the wizards rush around the room, tossing books, scrolls, and other things into a bag of holding nestled in the corner of the room. In less than a minute, the job is complete, and the trio of mages stand off to one side.

The speaker tosses the bag over one shoulder and nods toward Boreas.

"Shall we?"

Why don't you give us the five-minute rundown?  What's the most groundbreaking thing you've discovered here.

He looks out the window, seeing the advancing formation.

Well, looks like time to go.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:38, Thu 24 July 2014.

Zuriel starts in alarm at the Vora-like rhetoric. He exchanges a quick look with Boreas and nods. "Go. I'll help hold them off. I've got my own ticket out of here."

He takes a moment to speak quietly to Lyriel. "By your leave, Lady Leanna?" [Private to Lyriel Vesper: "Stay safe, my love. I must do this."]

The paladin makes his way after the commander, hailing him. "Hold, sir. Let me join you."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:03, Thu 24 July 2014.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 950):

The mages follow the P.A.R.T.Y. to the ground floor, where Reginald is pacing about frantically.

"OH NO YOU DON'T," he snaps, standing in front of the rear gate and locking it. "Someone has to defend the spire's aerie, and it shant be me. You hear me, Drake? NOT. ME."

"Oh, come off it, Reggie," the mage with the bag responds. "End of the line. How d'you want to spend it?"

The steward's eyes widen, and he unlocks the gate immediately.

"Running," he says. "As vigorously as possible. After you, then?"

***

Zuriel heads toward the main gate, instead, just outside of which the commander and his troops are adjusting their armor and weapons.

"...remember, we are to relieve Stevens and Brooks, and then man the line as best we are able. Delay, delay, delay, that's the ticket! And -- hold it -- you want to join us?"

The commander looks Zuriel over and shrugs.

"You're more than welcome to come with us, but be warned: not one of us is coming back. Do you understand?"

Boreas nods.  Your bravery knows no bounds... he says with a slight edge that might imply that the paladin's stupidity is similarly boundless, but you're free to do as you will.

He turns to the escapees, Give every man one of those healing scrolls in case they're needed.  Let's get going.  Does anyone else want to stay and help defend?

Lyriel steps forward. I will. Somebody needs to look after that oaf, and with any luck we can save the commander and some of his men. We *are* getting paid by the head, after all. The more the merrier! Lyriel finishes with a sing-song trill, masking her own unease. [Private to Boreas Highwind: Pay attention to Sendings. We'll let you know how things fare. Zuriel clearly has something in mind.]

As soon as Boreas nods, she rushes after Zuriel, catching up to him as he approaches the commander.

I hope you know what you're doing, Zuriel. Here, you're going to need this.

[Eagle's Splendor]
This message was last edited by the player at 21:01, Thu 24 July 2014.

"This is going to be dangerous. I would have preferred you to stay with the others." Nevertheless, the paladin's relief at being joined by the priestess is palpable.

Emboldened by her presence, he strides forward to meet the commander.

"Perhaps," he responds as the ragged company makes for the land bridge. "But we have a few tricks of our own up our sleeves. You said you had constructs? Excellent. They'll do well to hold. But to be perfectly honest with you, I think your skills are much better put to use defending the mages in the tunnel. If you could show us how to control the constructs, we can hold them off ourselves, and then we have a way to escape. Don't worry about us. Nobody needs to throw their lives away today."

He grins. "Besides, we get paid the more of you we rescue. So it's not entirely altruism that motivates us. What do you say? Show us how the constructs work, and we'll do the rest."

[Diplomacy (Divine Insight): 39]

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 955):

The Land Bridge

"Show you how to control the constructs?" the command repeats, incredulous. "We... I mean, I... they only obey their masters. Who are still on the front, and whom we hope to relieve. The men and I appreciate your offer -- it's truly tempting -- but the two of you can't possibly make enough of a difference to buy the others the time they need."

His jaw clenches, and he glances toward the shed longingly before shaking his head vigorously as if to clear away cobwebs.

"Do not tempt me, sir. Our fate is sealed."

The commander gives the order, and the group marches toward the barricade. There are several dozen constructs, many of which are grievously damaged. Two mages scurry along the back lines, patching up the worst of the damage and gesturing wildly.

"Stevens! Brooks!" the commander booms, prompting the mages to snap their heads in his direction. "A word?"

The mages hurry over, glancing over their shoulders every few seconds.

"What are you doing out here?!" Brooks says. "It's not safe. Go defend the spire!"

"I'm afraid it's time, my friends," the commander replies. "Darris has sent a rescue party, two of whom now accompany me. Join them, and carry on our work!"

The mages glance at each other dubiously.

"The 15-some of you won't be able to hold the line without our help," Stevens objects. "The golems have had it. We'll barely make it to the shed before you're overrun."

"You'll make it," Brooks says quietly. "Go. I'll help them hold the line. One life to secure four is surely acceptable, even for Darris."

If the commander or his troops have an opinion on their lives being ignored in this calculation, they keep it to themselves. Stevens hesitates for a moment, then nods.

"Until the dawn breaks, brother," he whispers.

Brooks smiles sadly, "For the end is nigh."

With that, Stevens tears off toward the shed, where the others have already gathered.

Near the Passage

Boreas, Maeve, Keef, Reginald, Les, Drake, and the other mage pause by the shed as Stevens rushes over and fills them in on the conversation. The other three mages suck in a breath through their teeth, and bow there heads in silence for a moment.

"Brooks'll be ok, won't he?" Reginald says, breaking the silence. "Just a bit o' oblivion with a dash of death, is all. Unless we're meant to join him, I suggest we get going."
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:16, Fri 25 July 2014.

Zuriel, unfazed by the commander's reluctance to retreat, instead addresses Brooks, attempting one last time to resolve the conflict without bloodshed.

"The commander here is admirably - albeit foolishly - dedicated to holding the line here. I'm hoping you show a bit more sense. As he mentioned, we're two of the mercenaries hired by Darris to return the lot of you. And I mean the lot of you. We get paid for each of you we save, along with your research. The commander is right about one thing: if you stay here, you will all die. But there's another option."

Zuriel gestures towards the golems. "If there's a way you can show us to control these golems, Leanna and I can hold the line here. We have a way to get ourselves home, and enough knowledge of the Hae'driel legal system to hold the crusaders." He flashes Brooks a lopsided grin. "Sometimes the threat of legal action means more to these type of folks than a hundred foot high stone wall. We can't stop them, mind you, but we can keep them busy long enough so that you can get away. You live, we get paid, nobody dies. Everybody goes home happy. Except the Flame, who get to go home righteously indignant. Which, to them, is even better than happiness."