Where's The Damn 'Reset' Button On This Game?
Confusion reigned for a good ten minutes, as everyone spoke at once, with the exception of Foxglove, who sat in august silence as she sipped her tea. Everything was said, and so, nothing was really said.
When the babble died down, Theocles took command of the situation. "Very well! The situation, as I see it, comes down to this: We _Do Not Know_ what the situation really is. All right, so this isn't a computer game, we don't know how we got here, we don't know who - if anyone - is behind all this. Indeed, all we Do know is what the voice that we heard when we first got here told us."
"Which we can't trust!" Foxglove finally interjected.
"Oh? Why?"
"Because, it's part and parcel of the whole big fucking LIE that this is just a fucking game, that why!"
"Yes, that was deceit, I must admit. BUT, is it such a good idea to assign blame before we have more real facts? Right now, the only facts that we really have are that we were brought here, and put to this task of challenging this 'Dark Tower'. Maybe this 'Role Playing Game' charade is just this world's God's way of making this task easier for us."
J'Mira glared at Theocles over the camp table. "And WHY would a deity do that?"
Theocles shrugged. "Since this Deity hasn't deigned to grant me a vision of His Plan, I refuse to theorize in the absence of facts."
Justin nodded. "And that is the bottom line here - we don't have any real facts. Making any plans without real facts is just setting ourselves up for a disaster."
"Hold it, Hold It, Hold IT!" Hargrim yelled. "We DO have some facts - or at least something to work with! When we all showed up here, we were given a Mission - to travel to this Dark Tower, and check it out, right? We have THAT - I say we go with it!"
"What?" Foxglove shrieked. "Has that cigar completely befogged your Brain, 'Tater-brain? Going to this 'Dark Tower' is the absolute last thing we want to do! The 'Worldkeeper' - for want of a better name for this mysterious 'deity' - is trying to fucking KILL US! Look at how He set up Zohar!"
Avalyn leaned over, a look of superior logic on her face. "If the Worldkeeper, the supreme power on this world, wanted us all dead, then WHY did He - or She - give me the ability to bring Zohar back?"
Foxglove leaned back, the wind kicked out of her sails. Why, indeed? "Maybe there are two forces at work here," she said weakly.
The rest of the party just gave her a collective dour look. "Actually," Theocles resumed, "she does have a point. There are two forces at work in this world - the force behind the Holy Church and the Empire, which is more or less the power of Order and Sanity, and the force behind the Dark Tower, which uses the Unclean and the Undead to kill, loot and pillage as a means of expanding their power. If we are being set up, then it's logical that it's the Thaumaturge of the Dark Tower doing it. We were brought to this world to gather information about the Dark Tower; obviously, this Thaumaturge is trying to kill us off before we can penetrate his fortress and discover his Unholy secret!"
"OH, For The Love Of God!" Foxglove snapped, exasperated. "Will you listen to yourself? That is the most bass-ackwards load of bullshit I've heard since the last Presidential election! We don't have any valid information, so we're supposed to proceed in the direction laid out for us by a being we know has lied to us? We're supposed to just go straight toward the most obvious, deadly trap of them ALL? What have you been smoking, Theocles, and how can I stay away from it?"
Justin leaned forward, the old rational concern clear on his face. "Foxglove, you're right - we don't have any valid information. But the best way to gather valid information is to go forward, with our eyes open, to pick up clues as to what is really going on. After all, that's how you figured out that this wasn't a game, wasn't it?"
Foxglove clenched her teeth, holding back a ripping comment. More calmly, she said, "The logical thing to do is go in the other direction! If it's as you say, then this Thaumaturge will leave us alone, and the Worldkeeper will have to open up and play it straight with us, if he wants our help. If not, and this Worldkeeper is trying to do us in, then He has to improvise. After all, every GM knows how hard it is to handle a bunch of players who won't stick with the script you've prepared!"
They all argued about it for a while, and it came down to a vote. Foxglove was the only one who voted for her plan, while J'Mira and Avon abstained. All the others voted to keep on going to the Dark Tower, though with the proviso that everyone keep an eye peeled for some kind of clue as to what was really going on.
Barely keeping from spitting with frustration, Foxglove got up and stalked into her tent. She dropped with a *plop!* on her cot, and started fuming. Scintilla knew her mistress well enough to stay out of her way when she was like this, and was indeed well out of harm's way. Suddenly, there was someone sitting beside her on the cot. She looked over at Kitsune, who was giving her 'poor baby' looks. "How could you vote for such a lame-brained plan? I thought you were smarter than that!"
"Honey, I agree that your plan is more logical; I also think that it's what we're gonna do eventually. But the others aren't ready to face that - I could tell that straight off. They were having fun playing this really great game, and you spoiled it. By going toward the Dark Tower, there's a part of them that can still pretend that it's all just a game, and they're still nice and safe. If they went with your plan, they'd have to face the fact that every time they went into combat, they were risking their lives - FOR REAL."
"Okay, I can see that; but why didn't you vote-"
"Why didn't I vote for your plan? Because I knew that I'd be outvoted. But by voting their way, I've made sure they'll probably take me into their confidence if they decide to remove that annoying doubt that you pose. They'll have to try to use me if they decide to do something to you, since we share the same tent."
Foxglove hmmpphhed.
Kitsune shook her head. "Foxglove, it's only a matter of time before they all agree with us; they just need time to wrap their heads around the idea. Hopefully, it won't take too many 'poetically just' deaths to snap them out of it."
Foxglove took a long, measuring look at her friend. Something deep inside her told her that Kitsune was on the level. And if she couldn't trust her instincts, she was screwed fourteen different ways to Sunday. She reached over and gave the ninjette a big hug. "Thanks, Kit! I needed the vote of confidence!"
Kitsune hugged her back. "Hey, de nada! It's hell being the smart one all the time! Tho' I wonder why the others are having such a hard time with it."
Foxglove chewed that over for a bit. "Maybe it's because we're both guys in the real world. Maybe the sexual disparity makes us more able to reject the party line. No, waitaminnit, that doesn't work - if that was it, why isn't J'Mira going along with us?"
"No real mystery. She's got it bad for Avon, and doesn't wanna do anything to rock that boat."
"Maybe...but, you have Zohar, and-"
"Foxy, what Zohar and I have is just sex, you oughta know that. If a good looking guy came along, I'd let ol' Doc go back to stroking his own pussy! At least, if that damn cat of his ever shows up again. But J'Mira's in Luuuhhhhvvve! I caught her and Avon kicking back and canoodling out in the bushes just before breakfast. I think she's taking it very seriously; lucky for everyone, so is Avon."
Foxglove smiled wanly, happy for her friend - and yet...
Kitsune studied Foxglove closely. "And, along those lines... exactly what's with you and Justin?"
Foxglove scrunched up her face and looked like she wanted to cry. "I don't know! It was just sex I wanted at first, just like you an' Zohar! But now? Now, when I'm not worried to death about him, I want to kick his clueless ass up around his shoulders, and when I'm not doing that, I want to feel his hand on my shoulder-
"And my arm-
"And my breast-
"And my..."
"I get the IDEA! Sheesh!"
Foxglove sighed mournfully. "Thing is, I'm not gay! Back in the real world, I never really thought about guys like that. Not that I was some kind of homophobic macho goon. And even if I were gay - I never thought that I'd fall for the 'Dudley Do-Right' type." She gave a martyred whimper. "And y'know the worst thing? My rival for his affections isn't even another woman! It's a goddamn sword!" She gave another mournful sigh. "I just want him so bad..."
Kitsune just wrapped her arms around her friend, and settled in for a good long cry.
*****
The party finally got it's act together, and was back on the road to the Dark Tower. 'Nine lambs dociley trotting off to the slaughter yards,' Foxglove thought sourly. 'Even if I could force myself to just leave these idiots to the fate they seem to want so badly,' she thought further, 'odds are that my chances of getting out of this madhouse alive depend largely on them.'
They traveled out of the Barbegassi mountains and into the rolling hills beyond. Encounters became more scarce, and the party learned to coordinate better.
They were enroute to the capitol of the border kingdom of Seth-Barrak, where Theocles claimed that he had business with the Prelate of Barrak, when J'Mira noticed a column of smoke off to the west. Everyone looked to Theocles, who had managed to prove his leadership with the 'we're going to the Dark Tower' business.
"Our business is in Seth-Barrak. Since we have proven that this is not a game-" Foxglove growled silently at this 'we' - "we can't afford to go haring off looking for trouble. Each of our side quests must somehow impact on the mission that we've been given, so my business in Seth-Barrak must take precedence over whatever is happening over there."
At this, over Justin's objections, Glory sprang from it's sheath and shone with martial ardor. "ONWARDS!" it sang. "Honorable combat is in the offing, and we must not be tardy!"
With that, Justin galloped off, Glory held on high with off-key martial hymns caroling. Hargrim, Zohar and Mornsong followed close behind.
Foxglove, Avon, J'Mira and Kitsune all shot 'Well?' looks at Theocles. The Cleric cleared his throat and said, "On careful consideration, Foxglove, you may have a point about that fool sword."
When Foxglove and the others caught up with Justin, he was surrounded three-deep by large humanoids in chainmail armor.
Hargrim charged in, only to have the sea of demi-humans part like the Red Sea. They backed off, and at first they just formed a circle around the adventurers. Then a trumpet sounded, and they formed an open box with three sides, each side three 'men' deep. The first rank were all armed with short swords or axes, and carried large hoplite shields. The second rank carried halberds, which they posed over the shoulders of the first rank. The third rank on the opposing flanks were armed with long spears that they poked past the first and second ranks like the quills on a porcupine. The third rank on the middle flank were carrying short bows, which they were in the process of nocking.
Zohar looked around and muttered, "Oh, _Shit_. Orcs that understand tactics and strategy." He lifted upwards with his flying carpet, but his flight was cut short when a hail of arrow flew up at him.
When Zohar was denied his air superiority, the archers concentrated on Justin and Hargrim. Zohar and Avalyn tried blasting them with energy bolts, but the shields seemed to have some kind of magical charm on them that kept the metal from melting or growing too hot to hold. A few Orcs were burned, but their numbers held.
Every time Justin or Hargrim advanced on the ranks, the long spears denied them the necessary range, and the halberds tried to pull them off their mounts. If Hargrim tried to wind up with his hammer, the archers would concentrate their fire on him, making him lose his balance.
Then that trumpet sounded again, and a set of drums began pounding out a beat. The 'U' formation moved forward as one, keeping that effective formation, and slowly forcing the party backwards.
J'Mira looked back. "Over there!" she shouted. "See those rocks? They're gonna try and force us onto those rocks, so we'll be forced to break our own formation, and they can cut us to pieces one by one!"
Foxglove dismounted, and tapped Kitsune's shoulder. "Time for a little creative confusion. CLOUD OF CONCEALMENT!"
The ninja and the thief melted into the thick gray fog. They managed to penetrate the wall of inhuman flesh through a small break in the right and middle flanks.
"Okay, we're out of the trap," Kitsune whispered, "but what about the others?"
"Well, unless these guys are some kind of mass mind - unlikely - there must be some kind of officer directing their actions. Probably using that horn and those drums to coordinate their movements. So, get rid of the officer or the trumpeter or the drummers, and these guys suddenly become a lot less formidable."
They skirted around the back edge of the formation. From the sounds of it, Justin and Hargrim were taking their own sort of advantage of the murk to get in a few good licks. There was the sound of another trumpet call. They followed the sound of the horn, to a small grouping of Orcs set off from the rest of the body. There were two drummers, industriously banging away at double-drums. The trumpet was being handled by a large Orc with a horse-tail crest on his helmet that set him apart from the rest. Obviously, the officer in charge of this outfit. Beside him was another Orc, dressed in tatters and rags, draped in noisome bits and pieces of this and that, who was busy gesturing over a lit brasier. The Shaman was probably maintaining some kind of charm that protected the foot soldiers from the effects of Zohar's and Avalyn's magic. Very effective. Foxglove really didn't like the looks of it.
Kitsune and Foxglove shared a glance. It was understood; one of the first rules of Fantasy Role Playing - take out the Mage first.
They crept up on the support crew on their stomachs. Foxglove palmed a handful of Dust of Dispelling. Kitsune circled around to the Shaman's back. Foxglove counted to forty, jumped up and threw the Dust into the brasier. The Shaman reflexively pulled back, unwittingly offering his neck to Kitsune's garrote. The ninja put her knee into his back and tightened the cord for all she was worth. As the Orc clawed at the wire cutting at this throat, Foxglove unsheathed two stilettos and buried them in his chest.
Only the jingling of his harness warned Foxglove in time to dodge the downsweep of the Orc officer's sword. She ducked and rolled, leaving the Shaman's last breaths to Kitsune. She rolled to resume her feet, unsheathing her rapier and main gauche as she rolled.
She was quicker than the Orc, but he was large and powerful. He pummeled her with the sword, beating her back. Only the fact that the drummers were focused on their drumming, to keep the troop in formation, kept her from being ripped apart. The Orc beat her to her knees, and forced her blades from her hands. He raised his sword over his head with both hands for a killing blow-
-and a long naginata blade jutted out from his mouth.
The Orc slumped over, pulling the naginata out of Kitsune's hands as he fell.
The two drummers were so immersed with their drumming that they didn't have a chance. Foxglove and Kitsune took over their drumming without missing a beat, as the two Orcs coughed up their life's blood. "What now?"
"What do I look like, Ringo Starr? Just make up something! If nothing else, it should confuse them long enough for the others to break their formation."
The monotonous drumming changed tempo - the front rank paused, confused, not sure of what to make of it. Then the drums started beating out conflicting tempos, and the rigid formation broke, as the over-trained Orcs tried to do what they thought the drums were telling them to do, which very rarely was was the Orc next to them thought it was. Halberds and Long Spears tangled with each other, and the archers looked at each other for clues as to what angle they were supposed to fire for.
Finally presented with a break in the otherwise impenetrable formation, Zohar blasted at one of the 'corners' of the box, tearing it open. Hargrim hopped his toad through the breach, and kept one side of the breach open for the others to ride through. Zohar rose up on his carpet, and managed to torch the archers.
With that, the battle melted into a confused blur of metal, leather and blood, with the Orcs too stoked - or just too stupid - to stop fighting. Glory was in its element, hewing through body after body, singing its off-key hymn to havok. Hargrim was having a right jolly old time, whacking down line after line of darkling demi-humans. Zohar took out entire blocks with bursts of drakylon-fire. Every time one of the larger Orcs looked like he would become the focus of a formation, Foxglove or Kitsune would cut him down from behind.
Finally, when they were reduced to less than twenty, after starting out with more than a hundred, the Orcs broke. Hargrim, J'Mira, Foxglove and Kitsune persued them into the forest, where they took them out, one by one.
When they came back, Mornsong came over to Foxglove, a snide smile on her exquisite face. "Really now, Foxglove! I can understand Hargrim going after those Orcs, but you? When did you get so bloodthirsty?"
Foxglove just shot her a dour glare, and walked over to where the Orc officer had been standing. She picked up a tall staff topped by a skull framed by golden batwings; the skull's teeth held a metal bar with characters on it, and a long black banner draped from the bar. On the banner was a red device of a flaming sword. "This is a Company Standard, y'know, like the Roman Legions used?" She pointed at the characters on the metal bar. "Two will get you Ten, that this is the company name and number. These bodies are wearing pretty much uniform armor, and they were armed with standardized weapons. They used Swiss Pike tactics, coordinated by drumbeats, and directed by trumpet calls. This isn't a marauding band, it's a division of a fucking Army! An army made up of dozens of units this size, all using the same tactics that almost ripped us apart! And, we won't be able to neutralize their advantage by simply taking out the officer, like we did here, because in an Army, they'll have mulitple coordinators, each able to take over for the others, just in case. If we hadn't taken out those last survivors, they'd have gone back to the main body, and their general would have sent an entire fucking regiment, probably backed up by whatever they use as artillery, to deal with us!"
The rest of the party had gathered around as Foxglove explained the significance of the standard. Glory whipped out of it's scabbard, and rose high in Justin's hand. It burst forth in a corona of shining expectation, and an off-key song of battle lust.
Avon gritted his teeth and muttered, not quite under his breath, "Oh, Shut Up!"
Theocles, J'Mira, Kitsune and Foxglove couldn't help but agree.
CHAPTER 15
There's How Much Gold In This Hoard?
It's Not That Kind of Golden Hoard, Hargrim
"Oh, will you put that thing away, Justin?" J'Mira groused. "We have better things to do than put a few more notches on your scabbard. Foxy, you say that this is a Standard from an Army? Well, if you think that's bad, just wait 'til you get a load of this!"
J'Mira led the band past the smouldering ruins of a farmhouse, to an untouched barn. In front of the doors were five large wagons, three of which were packed full of various foodstuffs. Trailing along the wagons were a line of cows, pigs, goats and horses, and a line of dejected looking peasants on a slave chain.
J'Mira jerked a thumb toward the slaves. "Look familiar?"
Theocles gasped. "It's more or less the same method as those vampires who were raiding for slaves!"
Foxglove snapped her fingers. "That device! It's the same as that faux War Horseman of the Apocalypse vampire we destroyed! A red flaming sword on a black background!"
Avon gave J'Mira a long look. "You didn't unchain them?"
J'Mira shrugged. "I tried, but I don't think they've ever seen a black person before. They freaked, and I came lookin' for you guys. I figured that the sight of a Cleric, a Paladin or a Bard coming to set them free would be a lot less threatening to them." She returned her attention to the rest of the group. "And the hits just keep on coming! As near as I can figure, these Orcs didn't do that much looting - they probably only torched the houses to get the farmers out. They were here mainly to take the produce and livestock."
"So?" Hargrim flicked the ash from his never-diminishing cigar. "They looted the place. So What?"
"They didn't just loot the place - they didn't bother with looking for gold, they came here to procure food for their army."
Hargrim gave her a pained look. "SO?"
J'Mira only barely kept from snarling. "SO, that kind of military procedure doesn't come along until the 19th Century!" She sighed and shook her head. "In the real world, I'm a Political Science major. It's important, because that kind of logistics gives an army an incredible advantage. Napoleon Bonaparte was a genuine strategic genius, but the thing that really set him apart from the military minds of his time, was that he was also a Logistical genius. His armies were able to move faster and respond more quickly to new situations than the armies of other nations, and so win campaigns that otherwise they would have lost, because Napoleon invented the supply train. Y'know, 'An Army travels on it's stomach'?
"This guy who'se leading these Orcs, and maybe those vampires as well, is using very sophisticated military techniques - orchestrated troop maneuvers, standardization of equipment, and now secured lines of supply. I wouldn't be surprised if he hasn't figured out some method of rapid communication - like carrier pigeons, or something. We are facing a large, well run fucking Army. Armies scare goddam dragons."
Hargrim shrugged. "So? We can just sneak past 'em, and get to the Dark Tower without having to deal with 'em."
Foxglove gave Justin - Glory still held high - a withering glare, and snapped at Hargrim, "OH? How? They're going to be looking for us! We wiped out one of their slave-hunting expeditions, remember? And both the Anti-Cleric and Sorceress got away. There's one thing about Lawful Evil types - they nurse their grudges better than they do their children."
Avon shrugged. "Okay, so what do we do?"
J'Mira paced back and forth for a bit. "We figure out where they're headed, and beat them there. They've gotta be going up against somebody. That somebody's gonna be looking for people to be on their side. The more people we have on our side, the better our chances of walking out alive."
Foxglove turned to Theocles. "You're the one with the maps - what's the biggest town in this region?"
"Seth-Barrak."
"And that's where your church business is, isn't it, Brother? How convenient!"
*****
It was decided that the 'Stealth Squad' would scout the army and collect as much information about its general's intentions as possible. The entire party would track the army as closely as possible, and the others would set up a camp just outside the army's patrols to wait for the 'Stealth Squad' to come back with any intelligence. J'Mira staved off a snotty comment about 'intelligence' from Avalyn with a sharp glance.
The party sent the freed slaves off with the wagonloads of food toward Seth-Barrak. If the army was going to beseige the city, the Barrakai would need all the food they could get.
As the food train disappeared over the hill, Foxglove made ready to leave with the rest. Then she found out that the sole casualty on their side of the battle was her horse. She turned and shrieked at Mornsong, "I thought I handed that responsibility over to You!"
Avalyn just crossed her arms and gave Foxglove a bland 'I'm not to blame' look'. "Hey, I was busy doing my best to stay alive!"
"But how am I gonna keep up?" Foxglove fumed. "There aren't enough horses to carry everything, and Zohar's carpet is getting overloaded!" Then Foxglove almost jumped out of her skin when she felt something nuzzle the small of her back. She spun around to look into the large yearning eyes of the de-horned unicorn. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
The unicorn nickered and nuzzled her flank again. Foxglove gave a martyred sigh.
"Well," Avalyn breathed, "if you can't be bothered, I'd be perfectly happy to lend you the services of Silverblaze." She gestured at her saddled deer.
Without waiting for her offer to be accepted or refused, Avalyn skootched up sidesaddle onto the unicorn's back. The unicorn turned his head around to give her a long hard look, and promptly bucked her off. Avalyn landed in a large bush (that Foxglove secretly hoped was poison ivy or something) with a squeak.
Foxglove looked at the unicorn with new eyes. "Y'know, Horndog, I think this may just work out, after all!"
*****
Foxglove, Kitsune and J'Mira checked out the encampment in the chill dawn. Given their unnatural members, the army of darklings operated in the opposite order of mortal armies - they marched during the night, and bedded down during the day. Once they'd come across the army's trail, it had been easy to follow them. Even with their 'modern' provisioning techniques, they still ripped up the landscape like a swarm of army ants. There was this one particularly strange set of tracks, that did a lot of damage.
J'Mira tried to count the division standards, but couldn't make out the entire area from the smoke of the campfires. It nearly broke J'Mira's heart to see the way those members of that army that could stand sunlight were treating the countryside. There was this one particularly large tent in the very middle of the campsite, that looked like it must take a couple of hours to rig up and take down again. Sort of a Big Top for a Circus of Nightmares.
Foxglove pulled out her mirror. Kitsune jogged her elbow. "Whatcha gonna do with that?"
"I'm gonna use it to try and find someone in that mess who's smart and high-ranking enough to know what all these yahoos want, yet not so important that they have some kind of individual magical protection."
"And then we put the snatch on them and put the screws to 'em, right?"
"You make it sound like we're in a 30's gangster film." Foxglove focused on the mirror, and sent the mirror's 'eye' into the camp. She felt a bit of resistance as the 'eye' passed the camp's perimeter; she guessed that the camp must have some kind of wardings around it. That made sense - the adventurers set wards, why wouldn't this army? After all, they wouldn't have sent their only sorcerer along with a simple provision scrounging expedition. She sent the 'eye' about, trying to get a feel for the camp's inhabitants. It was more than a little disgusting, because unlike a pair of binoculars, the 'eye' gave her a first hand sense of the place - garbage, filth, blood and worse. And yet, there was order.
Then she found something that looked promising. Five lithe figures in tight fitting dark leathers slid throught the camp, followed by close-held looks of dislike. The figures stopped in front of one yurt. One of them pulled back their hood, revealing a pale elven face with dark hair and harsh features. A Dark Elf, y'think? He knocked on the arch of the yurt's doorway, waited, then pushed back the leather curtain to go in.
Hmmm...Foxglove mused. Dark Elves. Probably with their own little enclave within the army, and their own leader. Potential there...
She reported her findings and suspicions to her 'sisters'. "So, we wait for one of their patrols to go out, and ambush 'em?" Kistune asked. "Grab one, and use a little 'gentle persusion'?" She fingered a knife. "Can you imagine Avalyn's feelings? On one hand, our bunny will be an Elf, and we'll have to torture him. On the other hand, he'll be a Dark Elf, and a blood enemy of hers, but she'll either have to heal him from our torture or just let a living being die of blood loss!"
J'Mira and Foxglove gave their 'sister' silent askance looks as she snickered evilly.
"Aaahhh... Actually, Kit, I was thinking more about going in there and grabbing whoever's in that yurt."
J'Mira gave a 'yeah, good idea' grimace, and nodded. "Riiiggghhht! Grab the one who's gonna know the most about what's going on, and stir up the Dark Elves at the same time! Y'know, Foxy, if you spell us up to look like Orcs or somethin', we could just march up to that yurt, say 'Ve haff orters for yur arrrrrrressst!' in Orkish, and drag 'em off! That should stir the Dark Elves up big time!"
Foxglove raised her eyebrows and nodded. "Good Idea, 'Mira. Kit, as soon as 'Mira n' I have him by the arms, knock him out quick! As they're Elves, their leader will probably be some kind of majicker or another - we don't want to give him any time to see past my disguise spell."
*****
They waited until just before Noon of the next day before they moved. Given the kind of 'people' that they were moving against, they couldn't very well go in the dead of night, so they had to go in the 'life of day'. This also gave Foxglove time to identify a group of tall, dark cloaked figures as the camp badasses. Just the people to disguise themselves as.
Just after a patrol of large lumpy guys who might have been some lesser breed of Giant passed, they approached the camp's perimeter. The three once-males crept up to a point, where Foxglove stopped them. She pointed, seemingly at nothing. "This is where their Warding is. If we cross this line, a sorcerer within their camp will know it. But, I think I have a way around that."
She pulled her chain from her shoulder and laid it along the ground. She ran a finger along the length of the chain. Then she formed an elaborate loop, and stepped inside. "Come on in."
Kitsune and J'Mira joined her. She pulled the chain taut, in the process unravelling the loop around their feet. "It's a variant of an old stage magician's trick. The point of which is that now we are on the other side of the line - as represented by the chain - without actually crossing it."
Kitsune nudged J'Mira. "You tell her how slick she is; I told her last time."
*****
Once well inside the camp, Foxglove scared up a set of long cloaks to work with. J'Mira looked at the cloaks with a jaundiced eye. "Why bother? Aintcha' gonna just spell us up to look like those whateva'theywuz?"
"Yeah, but this is a camp full of demi-humans and other magical critters - it'll be safer if our image and reality don't confict too badly." Then she mumbled something under her breath. "I just cast a translation spell on m'self. Remember - let me do all the talking. If anyone talks to you, just give 'em the coldest attitude you can."
Kitsune arranged a set of stilts for Foxglove and herself, so that they would be as tall as possible. Foxglove took a little getting used to them, but Kitsune was dancing around on them like she was born to it. Finally, they were ready, and Foxglove cast the illusion on them. They each looked around, and saw two lean darkling figures whose features couldn't be seen within the hoods of the cloaks. J'Mira obscurely wondered what the hell they were.
Foxglove checked her mirror to make sure that the creatures that they were impersonating were on the other side of the camp, and they left the tent where they'd been hiding. The last out, Kitsune made sure of the five goblins whose tent it was, by 'sending them on their way' with a quick slice across the throat.
The three 'Sisters' made their way to the Dark Elves' enclave. They acted like they were the very Hand of Evil, enforcing its will among the Darklings; for all they knew, the cloaked figures were. Those Darklings that were out and about in the daylight melted away in front of them. As they walked toward the Dark Elves' leader's yurt, Foxglove 'commandeered' appropriately menacing weapons.
As they walked up to the yurt, two Dark Elves in armor and weapons of black glass snapped to attention. One stepped forward; J'Mira wordlessly shoved him aside.
Foxglove stepped inside. The yurt was luxuriously appointed in draping silks and glittering bibilots. A stab of pure greed pierced Foxglove as she saw all the (possibly magical) pretty-shinies. A young Dark Elf maid came up and bowed before them. "My Mistress is asleep right now, Great Ones. What message would you leave for her attention, when she awakens?"
Taking a cue from all the Gestapo and KGB agents that Simon had seen in movies, Foxglove forced the maid to the ground with a blade to her throat. In a hoarse whisper, she told the maid, "First, pack your Mistress' working equipment; she may need it. Then, rouse her and make her fit for our Master's presence. _Go_."
The rattled maid got to her feet and swept up a bunch of lustrous knick-knacks into a travelling bag. Then she prepared a robe and some brushes. Finally, she pushed the filmy curtains around the Dark Lady's bed. She gingerly woke her mistress.
The Ladyelf was slender and pale, with large dark eyes, and long midnight black hair. She glared ferally at the three intruders on her sleep. She snapped viciously at her maid in some tongue that sounded a little like the garble that Mornsong used when she was casting magic. She stiffly allowed her maid to dress her, and then began to brush her hair.
'We can't wait for this egomaniac to make herself absolutely lovely,' Foxglove thought to herself. She stopped the maid in mid-brushstroke and rasped, "You _Will_ come. _Now_."
J'Mira and Kitsune were on each side of the Elf Lady. When she started to complain, Kitsune knocked her down with with several blows of a loop of chain to the head. J'Mira and Kitsune hauled the Elf Lady up between them. Foxglove took the travelling bag from the maid. The maid timidly asked, "May I be allowed to accompany My Lady?"
Though she was touched by this unexpected show of loyalty, Foxglove snarled, "No." Then she was rather disappointed when the maid looked greatly relieved.
The three 'Sisters' imperiously stalked out of the yurt, Foxglove in the lead, Kitsune and J'Mira dragging the groggy Dark Elf between them. Then they almost walked into a wall of Dark Elves. 'Well,' Foxglove said to herself, 'I didn't really think we'd just walk in here and walk right out again without some kind of problem. We can't expect these guys to just let us drag off their leader; so, I can 'mishandle' this in a way to start a riot. The Elves' neighbors will probably take the opportunity to jump them, and if we can hold them off long enough, we can slip out of camp in the confusion.'
One of the elves in leathers came forward. "Hold, Dyrghul! What business have you with Our Lady?"
Foxglove glared at him from within her hood and rasped, "Our Master will have words with her."
"Can we be sure that she will return?"
"_ No_."
The Dark Elf shrugged, gave a half smile, and made way for the 'Dyrghuls'. They passed through the crowd, then started gabbering at each other in their version of Elvish; Foxglove got a distinct impression that they were arguing about who was Top Dog now that 'Their Lady' was being dragged off into the 'Day and Clear'. 'Jeezus! What a pack of ratsasses!' Foxglove thought to herself. Then she wondered what the hell a 'Dyrghul' was. Zohar would probably know.
*****
The faux Dyrghuls dragged their prisoner through the camp, occasionally stopping to slap her down when she started to come to. The only response from the other races of the camp was an approving smirk. When they got to the front gate, Foxglove turned to the large Ogres and said dryly, "We will not be returning by this gate. Make sure that no one follows us."
The Ogre looked at the badly handled Dark Elf, gave a nasty snaggle-toothed grin and snapped to attention. One thing about Evil types, Foxglove mused, they don't make it tempting to join their side.
The 'Dyrghuls' dragged the Dark Ladyelf into the woods outside the camp, and made their way to their own camp. Once well out of sight, Foxglove gratefully let the illusion drop. Just looking like the Dyrghuls was making her nervous. They bound, gagged and hoodwinked the Dark Elf, and draped her over Horndog's back. Horndog nickered uncomfortably at his 'passenger', but Foxglove calmed him with a slice of apple. Even so, once they were back at the main camp, he unceremoniously tossed her off his back as he did Avalyn. Either he was a One-Virgin Unicorn, or he just didn't like Elves of any persuasion.
"What's this?" Theocles asked, looking down at the trim form on the ground.
J'Mira finished washing the dust out of her mouth with some beer. She burped and told him, "Short form? The army numbers at least two thousand, maybe two thousand and a half. It's made up of several contingents of various darkness affiliated races. Each race seems to have its own leadership. This broad is, or was, the leader of a contingent of Dark Elves. Foxglove disguised us as the creeps that the overall leader uses as secret police. We 'placed her under arrest' and just waltzed her out of the camp. Nobody was all that sorry to see her go. We figger she's a majicker, so taking her gives us a good source of info and whittles down their magic by one."
Avon handed her another beer to refresh her throat after that info-dump.
Theocles grinned with an anticipation that didn't exactly hold with the commonly held image of holy compassion.
Avalyn placed herself between Theocles and her unfortunate kinswoman. "Hold it - you mean to torture her, don't you?"
Theocles cleared his throat and started suavely, "My dear Lady Mornsong, it is no mercy to show restraint with the Truely Evil. As a magical being, her commitment to Evil goes beyond the normal mortal submission to spiritual weakness. To allow her to continue to pollute her already tainted soul is hardly mercy. Indeed, it is our duty to Her to scourge the Evil from her. She will not repent from being showered with kindness. Only opposing her insidious Evil will inspire her to abandon her Infernal Masters. Also, we need the information she possesses to protect the Righteous; are we to forsake those who place their trust in us, just to mollycoddle one who we know is an enemy?"
Mornsong gave Theocles a pitying look. "You don't understand. Elves are innately spiritual creatures, who's physicality and mentality are both products of their surroundings. 'Dark Elves' are victims of the depredations upon their lands. They are sick. Their souls are twisted, even as the land they live on is twisted. Torture and interrogation won't be necessary; they wouldn't be effective in the first place. This woman is in physical, intellectual, emotional and spiritual agony. She needs to be healed. Once we heal her spirtual wounds and clean her mystic infections, she will be a whole Elf again. She will tell us what we need to know, of her own free will, in order to stop the Evil that she now serves."
Mornsong leaned over the prisoner and removed the hood and gag. She filled her Chalice with water and flung driplets of the cleansing water into the Dark Elf's face. The prisoner sprang to full awakeness, and rattled something off in that Elf-gabble of theirs. Avalyn replied something in soothing tones of golden honey. Her 'patient' retorted nastily. The conversation grew exponentially worse. It ended with Avalyn throwing the entire contents of the Chalice into the Dark Elf's face. Her patient retorted with a barrage of razor-toned verbiage.
Avalyn walked over to Theocles with stiff-backed dignity. "Peel the bitch like a grape."
*****
As Avalyn was doing her 'Angel of Mercy' number, Foxglove walked over to Avon. "Avon, I have a way of getting the information out of her without resorting to torture. But, this bitch is a magicker; if I just go in, she'll fight me tooth and nail, and may just win. IF I go in while she's expecting something. Can you weave a song that will entrance her - and just her?"
Avon cocked an eyebrow, plucked a 'Do-Re-Mi' on his harp and smiled. "Well, maybe not just her, but it will have a very limited effect."
Theocles and Hargrim were tying the Dark Elf up in a way that led Foxglove to believe that one or both of them had certain hobbies in the Real World that are generally not spoken of in front of children. Avon hit a cord, and his fingers went flying on his harp. The Dark Elf ignored both the dwarf and the priest, and strained to hear the music. Avalyn stiffened on her camp stool, and strained to listen as well. Avon kept up the cascade of notes, wrapping the two Alfar in a silken coccoon of sound. Finally, both of the two ladyelves were completely wrapt up in the sound.
As Avon wound down, Foxglove gestured to J'Mira, for her to lead Avalyn to her tent. Then she reached into her purse and pulled out the Hag's Eye. Holding the noisome orb in front of her own eye, Foxglove gently told the Dark Elf, "Remember. Remember the army. Remember why you led your people to join with Non-Elves."
"Remember..." the Dark Elf crooned.
Foxglove sent the her mind into the Dark Elf's mind, using the Hag's Eye. The Dark Elf's mind was very different from the Hag's. The Hag's mind had been a festering pit of filth and joy in filth. The Dark Elf's - her name was Trayderne Pen Tonegal Tarretallan - was something between an overenthusiastic tweenie-bopper's and a ravening wolf's. She was a creature of intense passions and little patience. Her mystic skill was more a matter of pitting her will against the stone of secrets and wearing it away, than it was of true discipline. While Foxglove had had to slog through the waste that was the Hag's mind, finding anything in Tarretallan's mind was a matter of walking through a storm of association.
Finally, she found the train of images that she'd been looking for. The flaming sword device, the collection of dark strength, the promise of prize and the threat of being bypassed on the road to power and riches. The image of Four Horsemen riding through the ruins of the Empire, grinding the walls of the Old Order under their horse's cloven hooves.
Foxglove swam through the torrent of emotion and will, picking out what images she could work with and trying to string them together into a cohesive whole. Finally, when she had an idea of what was going on, she laboriously pulled herself out of the mindstorm. She shook her head to get her bearings and looked around at the others, who were looking at her with expectation.
<whew!> "Okay, I think I understand what's going down. It's your basic 'everybody sides with an up and comer, 'cause they don't want to be on the losing side' scenario. They all seem to be working for the Thaumaturge of the Dark Tower. The guy at the head of this army is called the 'War Horseman'-"
Justin snorted dirisively. "That Wimp we fought back at the farm, with all the other vampires? Oh, Please!"
Foxglove snarled at the Paladin, "Oh, will you stop letting your sword do your thinking for you, Justin? If you'd put that stupid thing away, and think, you'd realized that just 'cause he lost that one battle with a minor force behind him, doesn't mean that he can't lead a major force!" A savage smile lit across her face. "Though, I gotta admit, you did do a really good job on him - remember, you took his sword away from him?"
Justin shrugged, his face a mask of confusion. "So?"
"Remember, we destroyed it, the next day?"
"Again - So?"
Avon interrupted, "So, the War Horseman, must have a sword when he goes riding! And not just any sword, either! That sword we destroyed must have been something special." He turned to Foxglove. "Is the sword that special, Foxy?"
Foxglove smiled again. "It must have been - this entire army is intruding into an Imperial Client State for the sole purpose of getting the War Horseman a replacement for it. A really nasty number called 'Doom'."
"DOOM?" the rest of the party echoed.
Foxglove shrugged and folded her arms. "Hey, don't blame me, I don't write this crap!"