Tales of Evanhearth: Siege of Cudsul {IC}

[Disciple Cain]

The Siege of Cudsul

---

It had just recently become Springtime in the mining town of Cudsul. Trees and gained back their fresh green leaves and the skies were less gloomy, the sun shining clear and bright through the canopies of the trees. Despite what should be a happy time filled with festivities for a place like Cudsul, upon approaching the town there was an aura of gloom so strong that it could be felt even by the magically inept simply by the images there were to be seen.

The feeling of gloom upon Cudsul in contrast to the bright and sunny skies was night and day, so much that it even felt alien... it felt wrong in a very eerie and unsettling way.

Dried blood still stained the dirt road to the town, and could clearly be seen spattered over the western gates. The guards appeared as if they were trying to stay strong and steadfast, but the tired looks upon their faces gave
away how weary they truly were from the conflict. The grime and blood upon their bodies told the tales of the horrors they had recently fought.

Upon seeing three strangers approaching, the crossbowmen upon the walls instinctively readied their weapons and aimed down range. One other squinted in the distance with his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. Light returned to them suddenly as they widened and he turned and shouted up at the walls.

"Hold your fire!" he exclaimed as he gestured for them to lay down their arms, "They're not goblins; open the gates and let them in."

When the gates opened, there was an even more unfortunate and sad sight to behold. Villagers tried to carry on with their lives, trying to repair the damage caused by the chaos the goblins put upon them, but it was beginning to be more than everyone could bear. Homes had crumbled, shops had been wrecked and looted, and bodies of goblins and humans alike were still being hauled out of the town. Villagers were still mourning the losses from last night.

One week of delay for that message made more of a difference than one might've expected.

---

The Baron sat in his wooden chair, patiently waiting for the adventurers to gather in his office. Before they all entered he had a gravely distressed look upon his face, for he knew that his whole town was heading toward a downward spiral into the Abyss if it continued. A spark of hope showed when he looked up at the adventurers gathering in front of his desk. He clasped his hands together upon his desk and opened his mouth for a second, then closed it, then after a short pause he began to speak.

"I had hoped the capital would send help sooner than this, but then I should have known that my first messenger would not make it through... the goblins are more cunning and devious than I had previous. They have
continually made hit and run attacks upon the town week after week, and I only have enough men to guard the town and the mines-- I cannot send a counter-assault to the goblins."

He brought a head and scratched his unkempt hair, shaking his head as he added, "Not like I would know where to send one in the first place... the goblins raid from a different direction almost every time... it's impossible to
know where they are actually coming from if I cannot send a group to track them to the source."

He stayed silent for a minute as he looked to the adventurers, sizing them up and making an assessment of them. He gathered his own first impressions of them but wanted to hear from them first who and what they were before he made any judgements or calls.

He suddenly nodded lightly to them and began speaking again, "You seem like a capable few... by the strange clothing some of you wear, I would assume you are not all from this province. On top of this, I know nothing of what you are capable of or who you are, save that you have all come bearing the seal of Evanhearth and the summons."

The Baron unclasped his hands and gestured to them, "Please, feel free to speak and introduce yourselves first, then I will explain our situation."

[Lydyn]

Rehora had walked in after the three, quietly closing the door behind them as she stood off to the side a bit and listened to the baron. He was a bit older, but it was to be expected from being a noble of his position and yet it wasn't a stretch of truth to say he may have looked older than he really was, the stress and nervousness showing as dark circles under his eyes. The village and it's people looked gloom and void of hope, giving away to the fact that they had been attacked again and again and probably with little rest in-between. She wondered how big the goblin army truly was, since it would be foolish to label them as a tribe from the amount of bodies she saw on the streets.

As the baron continued to talk about the situation, she glanced over at the other three. The first was a clean-dressed man with a red overcoat of sorts, though he didn't look like much as far as she could tell. In fact, were it not for his unusual coat, she would've thought the man a fishermen or farmer and that interested her, mostly because she wondered what he'd be able to do against a lot of goblins - especially after doing this sort of damage. Second was a veteran - the scars and hints of cuts made it obvious that he was a warrior of some experience, tall and black hair that gave way to eyes that seemed calm and collected. That was good and she was glad there was at least someone with more experience than she had in battle. Sure she had done enough practice magi battles and a few tasks against some creatures, but nothing of this scale. Last was a fairly attractive woman, at least in Rehora's eyes, giving off the vibe of a sort of tomboy - fit and able and holding an expression that was similar to the warrior's own, though her clothing screamed nobility or wealth.

Shaking her head of less appropriate thoughts, she reached up to run a hand through her black hair and stepped forward as the baron called for introductions and gave all four of them a polite smile. "Greetings. I'm Rehora Elden, a magus of the Magi College in Evanhearth ... um, as far as what I'm capable of? ... it's hard to explain, but the Archmage has been taken by giving me the title of 'Rune Magus,' since I'm able to use Draconic runes to cast spells." Rehora paused to bite her lower lip for a moment, knowing full well that these people were probably less than excited about any details about magic theory that she wanted to spout out right now. "Without.. going into the, uh.. boring details, I draw runes and magic happens." She had decided that was a good end to her short introduction and nodded just once, letting out a subtle sigh. Rehora had never been the best at formal greetings.

[Disciple Cain]

The Baron listened to Rehora speak and showed body language that he was intently listening to her. When she paused for a moment he blinked at her and tilted his head slightly, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head a bit forward as if to urge her to finish the sentence. Among that, he made note of her strange clothes. It seemed like some sort of interesting fashion statement than a normal outfit one would find on a traveler, but perhaps these things were typical over in Evanhearth.

"A 'Rune Magus'?" He said, "I see... if you are like any other wandering magister I have had pass through here, you will be undeniably useful here. Thank you, Rehora."

He nodded his head to her, then turned to one of the others in the group and gestured to them, "And you?"

[rawkhawk64]

Garet had followed the guard obediently enough when he had indicated that he was part of the group that had come for the aid. He also listened to the Baron as he spoke of the situation: Goblin raids. When the Baron mentioned the race, Garet's face showed his full hatred of the species, but the look was gone almost as quickly as it had come. Garet looked at his companions. One was sort of beautiful, with black hair like his. The other man of the group wore red robes, and Garet almost had to admire the man's audacity to wear such a visible color. The other woman was also good-looking, but not as much as the other one. Garet surmised from her robes that she was at least distantly related to royalty of some sort, but related close enough to wear the clothing and get away with it.

The black-haired girl introduced herself first, and as a Rune Magus at that. Garet looked at her, his face showing the slightest amount of being impressed. He himself was an absolute stranger to magic, almost as much as projectile weaponry. He had to almost stop himself from her very brief introduction, but perhaps she was simply dumbing it down so she wouldn't have to go into too much detail. Next, Garet saw the Baron turn to him and gestured. "And you?"

Garet stepped forth, his eyes radiating confidence without being arrogant. "My Lord, my name is Garet Jaxom. I am a swordsman skilled in combat utilizing a short sword, a long knife, or both at once in a style dubbed 'Dual-Wield Style'. Due to my skill, a few have dubbed me 'the Sword Master', though I am no master of the technique. I am basically a mercanery for hire. My services, such as they may be, are at your disposal... for the right price, of course." Garet said, smiling at the last bit to indicate that he did not expect a fortune for helping combat a menace he hated so much. He then stepped back into place, his body as calm and relaxed as his eyes.

[Disciple Cain]

The man was built like a soldier but he didn't carry himself like one. The Baron suspected that despite his training as a fighter, he never had prior experience in any military whatsoever. Regardless, he was a blade for hire, and the Baron needed all he could get.

"You and I both already know that you're being payed for your services after you complete the job... the way you speak sounds like you're used to being payed before rather than after terms are finished. Still, you appear strong and able to handle yourself. Thank you, Garet."

The Baron went down the line and gestured to the next adventurer, "And what of you?"

[Barsavis]

War, it is a dark day on any land. Some try to play up its glory, but there is none. Even orcs and goblins who were bread for it fear it when the chaos surrounds them. No true glory is to be had save for praises after the fact. No, it is a matter of survival. Though the battle had sparked and vanished on this town the murky filth clung to these people. Kyr had been there, had lived it. She knew being bone tired, so afraid that mourning was interrupted. Hopelessness, these creatures standing station were not men, they were the beasts men inhabited, capable of anything and driven by survival.

A cold shiver ran down her spine like the bony hands of death rattling her vertebra. One face in particular struck her mind, that of a stranger looking at her with hollow eyes. The young woman was trapped in a signal mirror that she held in her own hand. Was she crazy to get back into this sort of mess? Fear, she had learned, had to be controlled or it would see you dead. This was all fear and so she retreated into the stronghold of her mind. Lost friends and loved ones never fit inside of the bunker. She was the soldier now. It had emerged again, but only once after the war.

Kyr made her way straight to her landlord's study. The Tamda tended to some documentation and letters to connected regents. He was a Baron by the name of Rathur but a miner one. His fiefs were scattered around Evanhearth. She was required by law to be under the charge of the Tamda until fifteen years had passed, at which point she was free to make contracts to tend any of the nobles property.

She did not give him any time to address her. "I'm going to go to Cudsul."

Rathur made to speak, then adjusted his response. "I take it you have been listening to the town cryer."

"I have," Kyr explained abruptly.

"I just so happen to have here the written document of what the cryer was reading. I am sorry, but you do not qualify. Only men are permitted, and it is written very clearly that serfs are not permitted."

"You lie!"

"Really, then perhaps you should read it yourself," Rathur tossed the paper toward her. Some of the symbols Kyr had seen before and therefore held up the paper correctly. She had never had a lesson on reading a day in her life. Why would a common lady ever need to learn? There was far too many other important things. During the war, she had only known one man who could read, and that was Peori writing. Rathur reclined in his seat with a smirk on his face; he knew he had her with his lie. And yes, it was a lie. "You have agreed to service me and my house; I see no need to send you to Cudsul."

Kyr became smoldering mad. This wasn't just about legal stuff, it was about belittling her. Because she wanted it made it enjoyable to deny it.

"Dymar tien..."--"You will tremble if we fight."-- The Peori tongue was uttered in a calm and calculating way. Rathur was ignorant of that, but there was punishment in store. His switch came down hard on her ear sending a stinging welt. He had the rod of discipline ready for use at a moment's notice. This was administered for speaking her native tongue. He stood and flicked the switch back upon his shoulder. "Well, being as you are such an honest sort, I will go find another noble who got your same letter and reassure that you are accurate in your translation."

"That won't be necessary," Rathur acted as if he was not cornered, "I merely wished to… observe your ingenuity. It is going to be a dangerous game you seek, young lady. But one may wonder… what sort of services you could possibly offer. It isn't as if you were a combatant in the annexation of your lands. It would be unfortunate if those thumbs of yours be misplaced by a torturer's knife."

It was another lie. She knew her rites, and now in the capital sneaking digits off of surfs (while in the power of the Baron) was also against royal decree since the terms of surrender asked for the pardon of all involved in the conflict and that loyalty to the clan be observed as loyalty to the crown.

---In Cudsul---
Kyr sized up the players in the room. The diplomat concerned her. She would like to believe him a normal sort, but that did not explain his presence here. She stepped forward, what was she thinking wearing this nice clothing here? She should have never brought it. Packing it up, however would be problematic and take up most of her room. When she changed it could be locked away again for safe keeping.

"I am called Kyr, lord," she began. She curtsied, but did so very obviously wrong to the noble class, then there was some strange twirl at the end that they didn’t really get. It was the sign of respect to her people, and it was out of habit more than pride. "I've had my fill of war and tactics. I can track down your goblins for you."

[Disciple Cain]

Kyr had given away that she wasn't from this province simply by the way she had greeted him, but it wasn't a greeting he'd seen before. He raised an eyebrow for a moment at her strange curtsy but went back to a normal expression before she faced him again. Despite the finery she wore and the elegant appearance of it, the Baron saw past this an inner-strength within Kyr... a kind of strength that only comes from the hardships of the chaos his people was beginning to witness.

The Baron blinked at her for a few moments with his hands steepled in front of his mouth after she finished, and when he suddenly spoke again he let his palms drop to the table, "I can tell that you have... perhaps conflicts beyond wars as well. Thank you, Kyr."

Then to the last one.

The Baron looked to the last man before him and was unsure what to make of him. He wasn't particularly tall, or strong looking, or tough, or even mean. He looked like a typical young man from the city. The Baron narrowed his eyes at him and studied him for a few moments, then snapped out of it and said, "Terribly sorry... however, if I do recall, my requisition was for reinforcements-- fighters or magisters, but you appear to be neither. Who exactly are you, sir?"

[Grandeur]

Erskine had known he'd have to speak up eventually. Allowing the others to go before him had given him a little more time to think of a good approach, but nevertheless, he still got the feeling that what he was about to say might not go down particularly well. With the baron, whose people had been dying left, right and center, or with his own travel companions, one of whom especially (he'd noticed as they headed towards the town) might not have been on the best of terms with the goblin peoples.

"I, Sir, am Erskine Graeme, a diplomat from Evanhearth. I understand that you may not like the idea of attempting to reason with the goblins after they have wrought such destruction... but something seems odd about this scenario to me, I can't shake the feeling that we're missing something important here. That is why I have come. I hope to convince these raiders to leave your people alone without having to commit genocide." Erskine was standing straight as he spoke, he was proud of the fact that his automatic response to violence was not more violence... yet in such company as this, he feared pacifism might not go down too well.

[Barsavis]

Speak to the goblins… Kyr liked the idea. Risking a handful of nobodies to try to stop the war. Violence was a horrible avenue to use. It didn't matter how experienced a fighting unit one was, someone was always hurt, someone almost always died. The price was too high. In a comfortable war room where men equaled placements, and lives lost was simply snatching a few markers off of the board it was acceptable. In the victorious return you played up the victory and heroes so that others did not notice the missing, but there would always be the missing. Seeing those you trusted and couldn't help but connect to in some way, watching them fall. That is what made a true soldier, trying to stay alive and keep those you interact with the same. Ideals of liberty and country and justice and honor all vanished when the situation came.

It is also important to keep in mind what it takes to actually look another intelligent creature in the eye and terminate that existence. Someone in full control of themselves simply cannot do it. In order to perform such an act, the pieces that are peaceful human must be tied down by logic, desperation, and fear, and the vicious nature of man pushed hard to kill. It changes you, knowing you have a monster inside. It makes you afraid of yourself and unleashing it on someone you care about. It makes you feel guilty and angry and confused. It is torture. The only thing someone can do is to dig a trench in emotion to keep from being overrun, and fortify with an act of pride or reason or ignite your defenses with hate.

What was worst of all is when you kill and you get used to it. There comes a day when you look at who you are now, and who you were and you would cry. However, so transformed you have become you simply don't care. Kyr hated the Tamda for forcing her into becoming that cold soldier. She had escaped this trap after defeat, but it took her years to do so. Now she was posed with callusing her soul again.

She jumped in, interrupting probably, and more than likely at an inappropriate time. However, her opinion needed to be shared. "Anything we can do to prevent the loss of lives on our side is worth exploring."

[rawkhawk64]

Garet stared at the Baron before giving his reply. "With all due respect, My Lord, only a fool asks for compensation before he task at hand is completed. I sincerely hopeope that you don't think me a fool. Rest assured I'll not ask for a single portion of the payment until I am sure the task at hand has been completed."

Garet then watched as Kyr introduced herself. Definitely nobility, though not from around here Garet thought, not completely able to hide his surprise at her curtsey. Well, she seemed likable enough, and somehow more dignified than he had imagined anyone could be.

Next was a... diplomat?! The man must be mad! Proposing to try to talk to the Goblins! As if you could reason with the unreasonable! Garet saw that the man was well-kept, but looked like he'd just be a burden in a combat situation.

Garet then took another look at the Rune Magus. Out of the other three, she intrigued him more than the others. Well, perhaps her magic would be useful in combating the Goblin menace. Despite the diplomat's words, Garet still felt the best way to deal with the Goblins wa to wipe them out. Looking the others again, Garet realized how out of place he looked, covered in scars, cuts, and bruises. Well, that couldn't be helped.