"I, um, dumped the ammunition of the self-reloading bows into the corridors along the walls." Grigs started, turning to face the hallway. "The Complex's corridors and rooms are surrounded by two adjacent corridors that allow us to place traps like the bows or even spikes or such.”
"Helps us defend against people who would attack us here. Didn't help so much when an enemy was already in our ranks."
Grigs then produced another dagger and flung it as hard as he could down the corridor.
The twang of strings going slack, and the snap of hard objects crashing into the walls nearly had Razzar and Dratin, who now peered inside, jump.
"Traps disarmed," Grigs announced, taking the torch from Razzar and stepping out confidently.
"You stole the ammunition on your own?" Gray questioned, again ears perked and Razzar followed, both looking at the bodies of the Invaders for movement.
"Yes." Grigs furrowed his bone nubbed brows.
"How did you get them all out without anyone noticed?"
Grigs snatched up his dagger and opened the Library door, which creaked on hinges that were in need of being oiled. He then turned, holding the torch inward, and smiled brightly to Razzar and Dratin.
"I call myself a Master Thief for a reason."
Razzar rolled his eyes and Dratin offered a weak laugh before they both stared inward.
The look of disgust on their faces had Grigs turned.
"Oh Gods." the Tiefling gaped. "This can't be."
"Know the poor souls?" Razzar asked, stepping in to survey a table that had been purposely pushed to stand directly before the door.
There were heads on it. Two female, one male. All of them Kallaxian.
"It's Quin." Grigs croaked, covering his eyes. "And his Family."
"One of the last loyal members of the Shadow Guild in Westwatch, and put on display as a warning," Dratin observed as she squeezed her way in. The Broodling seemed weighed down by her injured arm.
"Or it's an invitation," Gray observed. "The Stone Samurai is written in blood between the heads."
"Is it?" Grigs asked, now looking at the head of a comrade with grim curiosity.
"Yes. In dwarven." Gray noted, turning on Razzar's shoulders. "Is there a teleport location near there?"
"Yeah." Grigs nodded and headed for a far wall. "Used it all the time once. Drove my Dad nuts."
"Huh, might be a problem," Grigs said, opening yet another false piece of stonework. It was shoulder height, and there was a small set of stairs for a bookshelf settled next to it.
"This little hatch wasn't closed. I think my Dad's been here."
"Why do you think it was your Dad?" came the question from the Broodling.
"Because he and my mom are the only ones who know about this hatch, and this door," Grigs observed, and the stone wall silently swung inward, revealing a brief corridor to a door that had been left ajar.
"And Dad's a Dwarf, that message was for him." the Tiefling continued, pushing his way inward. "And, well, dwarves like to behead people. Like, a lot."
The Thief's Armory, as Grigs had called it, looked to be a wide hall, just as large as the tavern room on the surface. There were no lanterns or torches, but brightly glowing runes etched into the stone of pillars evenly spaced within. The floor was carpeted with a bright blue fur rug, with the ceiling painted of skies, with branches of trees stemming from the tops of the pillars themselves.
All of it shifted and moved as if it were all real, blowing in the breeze. There were butterflies and birds dancing in the pillars, with a Unicorn drinking from a lake on the far wall.
Razzar looked up in amazement, and Dratin looked around in awe.
"Skulldrag's Forest." Gray murmured, and Razzar turned on the spot, looking down at the carpet. "Right down to the bluegrass."
"Been there before?" Dratin questioned, leaning against one of the pillars. "Oh man the world's spinning."
"You need to see a healer," Gray observed before Fox quickly chased off after Grigs, who had not turned around.
The Tiefling was making straight to a corner that had been lined with shelves that reached the ceiling. In the center had been a map of Westwatch in its entirety. There were colored dots on the black and white map, with numerals, up to four, surrounding each in different areas of the map.
The colors matched a corresponding shelf, nearly fifteen in all, with various numbers carved in each level. Each shelf had scrolls all in them, filled to the brim and looking freshly printed.
A desk sat near the shelves, and next to it, a brash printing press with gold and silver impressions, clean and ready to use.
Grigs pulled out a scroll that had been on the purple shelf, listed as one.
"You think this might be a Clan affair?" Gray questioned, and Razzar snapping out of his moment of stupor, offered themselves to Dratin to lean on.
Razzar would help a quickly weakening Dratin to Grigs. It seemed odd to see someone Razzar's size helping a seven-foot tall dragonkin, but after the horror they had witnessed behind them, nothing was phasing Grigs.
"My Dad and his Dad have a complicated relationship. My Dad loved my mom, and my Dad's Dad wanted my mom's head on a spike because she had demon blood." Grigs turned towards Razzar with a grimace. "It did not sit well with Granddad that my mom took the Shadow Guild's reins up here. He is kind of a racist prick."
"Sounds like Jeria," Dratin grunted, and snorted. "Gods the adrenaline dies down and then the blood loss sets in. I feel like I've been running for six hours straight.”
"There is a healer down the path from where the teleport leads us in. But the Stone Samurai is a good run south."
"Alley we entered wasn't that far from the Samurai," Dratin observed groggily.
"Caches and Teleport locations are different," Grigs explained, starting to sound impatient.
“Look, you can carry as many scrolls as you can carry in those deep pockets of yours, but I have to go. My Dad needs me."
Razzar nodded and turned about to regard the map as Gray responded. "The Warehouse can wait. Razzar will bring Dratin to the Healers, just go, don't wait for us."
Grigs nodded, unfurled the scroll and read "Bere-o-Mok" out loud.
In that instant, the Tiefling simply disappeared, leaving behind a small swirl of dust. Once they were gone, Razzar had turned away from the map and fetched several scrolls from their respective shelves before taking the ones off the desk.
"Time for you to see a healer young lady," Gray announced as Razzar made his way over towards Dratin.
“Just, give me the scroll. I'll try not to puke on your boots." Dratin panted, discarding her hammer for the offered parchment.
"Razzar's waded through worse," Gray noted cheerfully.
"He used to be a bouncer for a Tavern in White Flower Valley. It's not there anymore. But yes, lots of bile."
<><><><><><><>
Grigs stumbled only a few steps as he shrugged off the effects of Teleportation Sickness. The anchoring runes had been traced on rocks that were placed in a circle some distance in the woods, just north of the Port. It was heavily wooded, filled with underbrush, obscuring branches and thick leaves all year round.
The area was secluded, out of the way. Only the real adventurous would ever find this place.
But as Grigs barreled through the trees and onto the small path that would lead him to town, he nearly ran right into a group of armored soldiers.
They were Infantrymen of Rilstar.
"Who goes there?!" Sergeant demanded, and Grigs scowled at the man as they stood fast in his way.
"Grigs Warstalker, I am in a hurry!" the Tiefling explained and moved to rush around them.
The Infantryman reached out and snagged their arm.
"Oh sure you are, every demonkin with a swinging set is Grigs Warstalker, what did you steal from the camp?" the Sergeant questioned, scowling darkly at the Tiefling.
"I haven't stolen anything in years." Grigs snapped defensively. "I AM Grigs Warstalker, my Dad n
eeds me at-"
"-Sure." The Sergeant grunted, holding out his hands. "Let's see some papers."
"I don't have papers I-"
"-don't have papers and running from the woods where the only thing close by is the army camp." the Sergeant gestured at his men. "Search him!"
"I don't have TIME for this!" Grigs roared, and flung the Infantryman off of him, before being grabbed at by another. Grigs kicked them low before they all brandished swords.
"Gods dammit I am Grigs Warstalker, I am a Noble of Rilstar!"
"Sure." the Sergeant spat, "And I'm a Snow Elf Thane of the Stone Well. Iron him and drag him, we'll search him in camp."
<><><><><><><>
Charles Jakuul stood at the end of the pier, lightly tapping his foot in impatience at the Kallaxian Barge that pulled up to the pie, As Charles watched the Samurai lower the boarding ramp to the dock and grew rather apprehensive of it, realizing this could be the start of an Invasion, and he was standing there by himself a few paces in front of armed men and women instead of behind them.
Descending a ramp, walking just behind a bald Kallaxian in red Samurai gear, had been Zansui, who offered an impromptu wave.
Followed behind them, however, seemed to be a small army of MORE Samurai, with groups of them waiving different forms of battle standards with their strange, winding lettering and odd caricatures.
Jeria had been just off to the side of Zansui, with Lord Hertwire trailing a few paces behind them. Jeria was impossible to read outside of his cold expression.
And Hertwire simply looked bemused.
"So I take it the meeting went well?" Charles called as they drew closer. The whole procession came to a hold a respectful distance from Charles.
"Well enough." Zansui nodded and made a motion to the bald man. "Lord Fuji Hayabatsu."
Charles offered a slight nod, still getting used to having to bow once more. "I am Lord of the Port District, Charles Jakuul."
"Jakuul?" Hayabatsu questioned, frowning slightly. 'Reikard spoke of your family line."
"Well, we got worse apparently, my Mother had been Jeria's sister, the Lady Rebekka, now City Liege of Westwatch."
"I am unfamiliar with that title.”
Charles grinned and shook his head. "It is a fancier title then Chief Adviser to the King and Governor of his estates while he is off defending the Land and its Allies."
"Regardless, seeing as how my cousin Zansui has a smile on her face, and my Uncle looks a tad disappointed, I take it's good news?"
"Kallax will remain a Province of Rilstar until the end of this coming conflict, plus one year." Hayabatsu declared, turning slightly so his voice projected back towards the men behind him. Charles had a feeling it had been aimed at someone towards the back, perhaps even on the ship.
"In which time, the Daimyo will again demand that the King prove his right to the Throne. If the King dies, then Kallax will continue to open its borders to the Peasantry as Rilstar has done during this time of need."
Charles nodded a few times as Hayabatsu spoke, then directed towards Zansui. "And you agreed to this right?"
"It was either that or the Jeria Option."
"Forget I asked." Charles brightened considerably, "Welcome to Westwatch Lord Hayabatsu, your men are free to come and go as they please, so long as they adhere to Rilstarin Law."
"We will be making camp outside of the Dock District Closest to this, Stone Samurai."
"There are Din still packing their belongings and vacating the location," Charles observed reluctantly.
"Is there?" Hayabatsu questioned, turning to Zansui to raise her brows.
"About that," Jeria spoke up, and made his way to the front. "Yunza!"
The unofficial Raider Captain quickly stepped forward and bowed towards Jeria.
Jeria regarded Hayabatsu, holding out a hand towards Yunza to wait a moment.
"The Uginaga scum will be remaining on the Barge with his retinue in defiance of this agreement, correct," Jeria said out loud more than asked the Daimyo.
"Yes," Hayabatsu confirmed with a nod.
"Good. Lord Charles, did you secure a Writ of Inspection for the Lords Estates?" Now it was a question, and Jeria regarded the Rilstarin Lord with a cold expectation.
"Right here." Charles plucked up a scroll from his belt. Jeria reached over for it and Charles passed it on without complaint.
"Yunza I say this in Common so it is not misunderstood. And Lord Charles you may direct any grievances of this order to the King, is that clear?" Jeria spoke, looking from Charles to Yunza, before passing the Raider the Writ.
"You will find anyone wearing the Green Sash. Find where they sleep. Find where they do their business. Find where they gather and spend their coin."
"I am sure Lord Charles' Guards will be more than willing to point these areas out." Jeria did not glance up from Yunza to get a confirmation from the Lord, who shuffled on their feet.
"Then you will assist the Guards in arresting these scum. If there is any resistance, kill them. If they threaten you or the Guards, kill them. As long as they are wearing that Green Sash, they are an enemy of the Jakuuls and the Warstalker Houses and the People we serve. As in Reikard's Shield as it is here, the Warstalkers do not tolerate the existence of a threat to their People."
Jeria then stared into Charles' face, his head tilting to the side as he regarded the man with a fierce intensity that made the Rilstarin Noble feel exceptionally uncomfortable.
"Do you?" Jeria demanded, then marched passed Charles leaving Yunza to stand there, holding the Writ.
"I think he needs another hug." Charles broke a lingering silence, before stepping aside and extending an arm. "Come, we can discuss the details of your extended stay at the Stone Samurai Tavern if that is your destination."
"Yes, thank you." Hayabatsu nodded, glancing to Yunza who bowed humbly towards the Samurai, then retreating back to follow after Jeria. "The Lady Warstalker has graciously allowed me to use it as my headquarters so I may assist in the coming battles."
As Hayabatsu and Charles spoke, Zansui moved to the edge of the Docks and held up her automaton arm. Many flinched, including Hayabatsu, when a Hawk shrieked its way downward from somewhere, to land on the Half-Elf's metal arm.
"Satisfied?" Zansui directed towards Rainbow, who flapped their wings and squawked in reply.
"Ah, so you've your Father's touch with animals," Hayabatsu observed, impressed with the Hawk. "It is unnerving how someone who could put off humans so much can be so calming to creatures."
"My Father has a gift with animals?" Zansui asked, rather surprised. It even showed plainly on her face. She had just assumed the birds had were just being friendly.
"That would explain why Grok likes him so much," Charles observed, half turning to gesture to the carriage at the end of the pier.
<><><><><><><>
Razzar did not have to half drag Dratin too far before concerned citizens and the local Guard rushed out with a wagon.
The Healer was a Cleric of the Pantheon who tended to people from their home. Seeing Dratin they blanched and quickly had pillows placed on the floor.
"What attacked her?" they demanded of Razzar.
The Fox answered, "Evil things."
Just the Fox speaking startled the Cleric's eyes bulged and Razzar had to shake them.
"Oh, sorry, I-I don't see familiars that often, I assume this has to d-do with spellcraft?" the Cleric stammered noticeably.
"Worse." Gray sighed, "Razzar must return to the Lady Jakuul with the news."
"Go, in good hands," Dratin grunted, clutching at her wounded shoulder. "I'll run after the Tiefling when I get better."
"Tiefling?" one of the Guards asked. "Wouldn't be a black skinned horn, all dressed in black with purple hair running from about the same spot, would they?"
"Yeah, why?" Dratin questioned, narrowing their gaze on the one who talked. She recognized him from her tenure as Captain of the Guard in the Port District, yet could not remembe
r their name.
"Some lads saw a demonkin being dragged back to the Camp up North for suspicion of theft and impersonating a noble. They just sent for the Guard to have them dragged off in Chains, just been waiting for the proper-"
Dratin lurched up, even as the Cleric tried to stop her.
"-You take men and you secure LORD Grigs Warstalker from his predicament right the fuck now or I swear to the Gods I will beat the milk drinking sods with ANOTHER milk drinking sod!"
"She's done it before." Gray chimed as if attempting to be helpful. "Razzar watched. It was most amusing.
The Guard, either from past experience in working with Dratin or just intimidated, quickly rushed from the door, calling for Guards to follow.
Dratin collapsed again with a painful huff. "What the HELLS is wrong with my arm?"
"Missing muscle mass and there is black incur in the wound. It smells of rot and decay." the Cleric observed, turning towards Razzar, "I've seen wounds like this, and recently. From filth covered swords of those skeletal warriors. Is there another undead incursion in Westwatch?"
"Worse, Invaders," Gray explained, and the Cleric looked from the Fox to the Elf again.
"Invaders are?"
"Worse than undead." Gray finished, now shifting to rush up Razzar's body. "Dratin, Razzar has to go."
"Grigs' Dad?"
"I do not think anyone would be stupid enough to openly attack anyone within the Stone Samurai," Gray observed, tilting their head to the side, just as Razzar did. "Not with Patrons in it anyway."
It was a sign then, the way Gray said "I", that it was Razzar himself personally addressing Dratin, skipping the Fox’s input and tact.
"By the time Grigs gets there whatever happened would have happened by now anyway. The Invaders are a bigger problem, and I cannot wait."
Dratin nodded and made a gesture with her claw. "Go."
Razzar offered a shallow bow, before walking away.
"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" the Cleric questioned.
"I don't know what's going on," Dratin admitted, frowning as she lay there. "And I'm NOT going to ask."
Chapter 14
The Bloodied Shield Page 18
