Tesserach

Smoke and Steel

Krasimir

* @TokyoPewPew @Dyelli Beybi

Krasimir bowed his head reverentially in response to Ariana's decision. "I shall relay Her Grace's orders to Skotinodas. We'll march south as soon as the order to move south is given."

---

Outside the Red Camp - A short time later

"It's as Skotinodasos feared." Krasimir was shaking his head when he rode back to the group of about fifty of his own men that were with them, plus two hundred or so they'd picked up who were driving the wagons that were then parked in the clearing. "They had no plans of their own, no interest in the targets we'd been scouting, no interest in liberating or recruiting those willing to fight for us, or train they already had. They hardly even listened to what we were saying. They're dead set against us."

One of the men present assisted the old soldier from his horse. The men who met him wore red cloaks thrown over their shoulders, most of them carried several firearms, bedecked in armour that clearly wasn't their own. "Pity. We finally habe orders at least?"

"We're to get ready to move south. We're gonna try and take the blacks head-on." The men around him, most of whom had either been Owned Men themselves or with Krasimir and Skotinodasos long enough they might've been.

The men present gave no real answer to that, but shared glances around at each other.

"What aboot dhese?" They gestured to the large train of captured wagons and draught horses, loaded food, supplies even some powder.

"I promised 36 wagons. Told them there were more but they didn't seem that interested." Krasimir shrugged, as he surveyed the extended wagon train, which was quite a few more wagons that thirty six. "Send them 30. We'll take the rest with us. You, take a team, head to the crossroads: make sure word gets passed to the rest of the wagons coming up behind us get diverted to the new rally point."

"We not sending dhem to dhe main camp now?"

"If they want them they can ask. We keep the powder wagon too. When we run short, they're not going to reciprocate." He turned to the man who'd helped him down. "You take the 30 wagons. Don't mess about at the camp. Drop wagons then get to blackrock ford. A couple of the boys will meet you there, we'll be moved on from the rally point by then. If you haven't heard from us by dark, disperse and head to Mt. Tamor." He turned to another of the men. "Get our runners moving. I want reports from all the locals along the route. The rest of you, get the animals watered and the new faces formed up. We move in an hour. Anyone that can't keep up gets left behind."

There were no questions, the men turned and went to their pre-appointed tasks as Krasimir lingered with a few men, receiving reports from both their scouts as well as information they'd collected from locals watching the roads, garrison forts and farms of the area.

Wild Beasts of the Earth (Gothic Horror)

Rudy Rudeanu

"Not so much what we found as what we didn't find Herr Temple." Rudeanu added. "We interviewed cemetery staff, and walked the grounds visiting murder sites. I had expected the first murder site in particular to be open based on details afforded of how the gravedigger came to be there; it was unusual for him to be there that night. I surmised our killer would need a ready way to observe and target the gravedigger, and that by visiting the site and other sites, I might locate the vantage point by which our killer identified his targets. The problem was, in the first site and several others, there was none. There was no way to predict the gravedigger would be there. The grave site is an old, sectioned off portion of the cemetery, well away from public view nor even easily accessible. No one from the street or even most of the rest of the cemetery could have even known Herr Schmidt was there. Unless they were already in the cemetery. I find that interesting, but I believe we might speculate some details of our killer based upon what we already know.

"First: there is the repeated use of the cemetery - both to kill and to leave his bodies, despite knowing this must attract attention. His prior presence in the cemetery before the gravedigger killing suggests some deep connection to the site. Our killer seems very comfortable there, perhaps living or working nearby - it should not be ruled out that our killer may be one of the staff. The seeming randomness of the first attack, combined with the murders that follow suggest the first killing may have been unplanned, but continued use of the cemetery suggests the killer's presence there was no accident: likely he had been frequenting the area a long time before this happened.

"Which leads us to the nature of the crimes. The consumption of human flesh, is an odious prospect, suggesting our killer is in some way deranged, perhaps taking on animalistic delusions, or holding to some occult believe that by consuming flesh he may gain some power either for himself or over his victims. While we may surmise the first victim was unplanned, that he has continued to kill is interesting. Perhaps some of you have read the true story of 'The Man-Eaters of Tsavo', in which two lions appear, having once consumed human flesh, to have developed a preference for it. Our killer may have wandered this cemetery harbouring such thoughts for some time, then having been obliged to protect his secret and having indulged his fantasy set forth to do so again with victims more to his pleasing. I think here of Herr Sigmund Freud's writings of abnormal disorders of the mind and it may be Herr Helmut's is correct, and our killer has some need to consume or denigrate his victims to fulfill some animalistic-sexual fantasy.

Then, there are some practical considerations. We see no sign of weapons being used. For a man to overpower so many people - presumably fighting for their lives - so frequently over so short a time in hand-to-hand struggle - without taking more extended periods to recover himself - and to do so so confidently is suggestive of a young or particularly vigorous disposition. This leads me to suggest we're likely looking at a young male, age 20-40 years old, who is local to the area. They are likely socially isolated, resentful to women in particular, and I should be surprised if their past does not contain significant violence. I think it quite likely our man has a military service background, and given his fixations, I wouldn't be surprised if his unit had been posted to the eastern front, where starvation issue could sometimes be... acute." There was something in Rudeanu's disposition then that suggested he himself had become unsettled by this particular line of reasoning, falling silent a moment in some contemplation or remembrance of his own.

Finally he continued. "The fixation on the cemetery, the ubiquity of the attacks, suggests a very fixed perhaps even ritualistic aspect to the attacks. While our killer is obviously deranged, it may be they also possess some fascination with the mystical or occult that led them to their presently deluded and unstable state of mind."

Smoke and Steel

Krasimir

* @TokyoPewPew @Dyelli Beybi

Krasimir's nostrils flared but the man retained his composure, it seemingly not being the old soldier's first time weathering a tirade from a younger officer. He did though look to the others around the table, as though to affirm his discipline on the matter was mostly for their benefit.

Smoke and Steel

Krasimir

* @TokyoPewPew @Dyelli Beybi

"Sirrah, with respect if you had been in the field as we have you would understand the opportunity before us. The enemy is in disarray. The left hand does not know what the right is doing - but even now they are reestablishing their commands. Let us compromise in the name of brevity. Let the main army begin moving south, in accord with the Colonel's plan. Let Colonel Szaalm and his cavalry accompany us to the mine - we will move faster anyhow and it should be enough men anyhow. It shall be his command and his victory. If it is not as we say, the Colonel can call it off." Krasimir watched Colonel Szaalm intently with his dark eyes, before shifting abruptly to Lady Ariana. "What say you Your Grace?"

Smoke and Steel

Krasimir

* @TokyoPewPew @Dyelli Beybi

The grizzled soldier was the last to rise at Lady Ariana's arrival, getting onto his bad leg and rising with a keening groan of effort. He waited a moment, perhaps expecting the senior men in the room to address the question first but when no one spoke he entered the silence, clearing his voice. "In truth, Your Grace, I think our positions may not be so far afield as might first appear, for we can do both. We've won ourselves a costly victory here at Rodelkog, but the battle is only half done: we need to exploit this success to the maximum benefit of ourselves and the maximal detriment of our ultimate enemy: the Haltians. That mine is money kept out of our enemy's pocket, put into ours and I might add that cesspool has been dark shadow hung over the heads of every man, woman and child of Inbur born into chains Your Grace; that is where they send us to die. Taking it and freeing those people means something: there's hardly a slave in the Haltian Empire hasn't had someone they know go into that pit, never to return. If we tarry though: the Haltians will recover and the moment will slip past us. Meanwhile the Blacks and Calarians will still be dealing with each other, look..." He gestured to the map, pointing out the Calarian and Black army positions - and the area they would have to travel to come north. "Neither of them can come inland, at us, without exposing their supply lines to the other. I don't know much about diplomacy. Maybe the Blacks and Haltians hatch some unholy union. But I know the military situation: they still gotta deal with the Calarian threat before they come at us. Right now, we sit in the center of things. Until the Empire recovers - and it will sooner than I think some here imagine possible - no one is in a position to really hurt us: but we can hurt them. Let's use that.

"Now as for going south, I'm no diplomat but Skotinodasos fancies he's read enough of them books he collects like he understands such things. So here's what he wanted me to put forward. The army finishes exploiting the situation here, take the mine and whatever other fat targets our lads can get eyes and ears on. If we want a ruse, we can send an envoy north and make noise that we're preparing to move in that direction but the south is more defensible. Discretely, we can approach the Calarians. They have their own markets and industry that can provide everything we need to prosecute our war on an ongoing basis. The got a grudge with the Blacks and no love for the Haltians. There's a deal to be done there. On the other hand: dealing with the Calarians is climbing into bed with a snake with so many heads there'll be no being rid of them once they're invited in. The Blacks might be a claimant and sooner or later we probably will come to blows but we'd remain our own masters, and one good chop is all it will to be rid of them. They have the sea and access to foreign markets. They can also provide what we need to prosecute a war. This is our object: play both parties to ensure we always have access to what we need. The things we need to defeat the field army the Haltians will reconstitute and send against us are the same things we need to start taking fortified towns and fortresses. If we can get that, beat them, then we'll be in position to end this war.

"In essence, it's the same plan Colonel Szaalm proposed only we shall be extracting what we desire before ever putting our forces in danger and rather than being seen as ransomeers - we appear rather as friends, allies even, providing solutions to their mutual problem: the other existing. We can help the Calarians deal with a notorious pirate who has, so far, kept one step ahead of them. Or we can help the Blacks pry open the gates of Calaria so their sea witch can climb inside and gorge herself on the merchant republic's guilded insides. Two envoys, by the time the operation to secure the mine is complete, Your Grace should ideally have two competing offers awaiting your signature to choose from. At least, that is how Skotinodasos sees it. We might even manage the negotiations with the Blacks, we have contacts in the area. There are those we trust in Calaria too, but they would require letters of introduction."

Smoke and Steel

Krasimir

* @TokyoPewPew @Dyelli Beybi

The group were presently joined by another though not perhaps the man they'd been expecting, nonetheless Krasimir - The Cripple - as they called him. His face marked by dark lines and old scars, and he listened silently and surveyed the room from beneath a furrowed brow as the others spoke as he searched for a chair.

Krasmir was a known commodity. Word was he'd been an Owned Man at one point, respected enough among those who remembered the name but of no particular rank. The story was he'd served in the line, until one day they'd been felling timber to fill a rut in a road when the tree bounced off another, and rolled over - a branch crushing his leg. Unable to march, his officer had sold him to the mines. From there he'd found his way to becoming Skotinodasos' right hand man.

As an Owned Man, born and raised, Krasimir was also a bit easier to understand than some of the other filthy rabble from Skotinodasos' party, with their barely understandable commoner dialects and strange oaths.

The grizzled man looked tired. Both Krasimir's worn breastplate and the red cloth bands of cloth he wore tied around the muddled brown material that clothed the man were all caked in dirt. He sat, groaning as he fell heavily into the seat. "We second that. Skotinodasos and I, the others with us, we talked it out. Getting bogged down in a siege. Looking for another big fight. We just don't see the advantage in it; it doesn't play to our strengths." Krasimir's voice was low and gravelly as he nodded towards Szaalm. He leaned back in the chair, and removed his sword with its dented and beaten looking and set it across his lap. He shifted around in the seat, looking for a comfortable position for his leg before finally settling in.

Empire of the Clouds

Sadness, but wish you all the best.

Wild Beasts of the Earth (Gothic Horror)

Rudy Rudeanu

Rudy stood looking at the ground and merely nodded at the news the grave-keeper delivered. It was clear from his expression the news of nationalists and communists killing each other and being thrown in the same grave together was in no way shocking to him. If anything his not was that of a weary man who could affect little more than weary, but unsurprised, disappointment at such news.

"Someone comes here." Rudy's voice was distracted as he looked around the forested section of the cemetery and began pacing about the grounds, examining the hedges and trees of the forested cemetery that surrounded them there. "There's no vantage point from the street. Nor even the buildings. Whoever did this either knew he was here. Or were already in the cemetery for some reason and were close enough to hear or see him working."

He stood up again looking around again, looking puzzled. "Why start here?" He clearly wasn't talking to either Nicola or the grounds keeper at this point. "If it was just a chance encounter, why keep killing? Why stick to the cemetery and draw attention? The others were vagrants, women, people that wouldn't be missed - this man was employed, on the grounds, and was definitely missed. No other bodies found before this: so what was special about here?"

Rudy bit his lip and looked up, as though looking up into the canopy of trees might hold some useful clue. He had a look Nicola at least recognized. The look he sometimes got when they were scouting another performer's act, and he'd be puzzling out how they'd engineered a particular show. He usually had ready answers, but when he didn't he often looked like this - staring off blankly as though stuck in some internal loop in his own head.

Eventually he remembered he wasn't alone and looked to the grave digger and affected one of his bright, performer's smiles. "Ah, thank you Herr Totengräber, you've been very helpful. We'll just be taking some notes I think from here."

As the gravedigger departed Rudy watched him go. Leaning in towards Nicola he quietly whispered. "I feel like we're missing something but this old portion of the cemetery is too secluded. No one just happened to be passing through here. They couldn't have spotted him from the street. They had to be in the cemetery, after dark, already. And they've stuck around. They have to know they'll be caught - someone would notice. I don't know... maybe the cemetery has some special significance to them? There's a method to this madness I'm just not fathoming."

Rudy steepled his fingers against the bridge of his nose and cast his eyes around the dirt again, as though the earth itself might hold some answer. "Our first victim worked here. I doubt all our victims have just been wandering inside the cemetery after dark. By hook or by crook our killer is bringing at least some of them here: which means someone nearby must've seen our man on the prowl. We should speak with the others but perhaps that's our next lead."

Recollections: Primal Sinister

Agent Jackson / Alejandra Escriva

---

Raven's Rest, the Front of Bill's Tattoo Shop
_{Interactions: Varnan @Blizz, Bryn [@Fernfur], Wild Bill/Elara/Luca/Doran/Ryan//Ethan @NoriWasHere}

---

There was no hesitation, the moment the creature began moving in earnest again Agent Jackson's pistol was already up, twelve shots fired joining those already coming from the other arrivals. None of which seemed to do much. It only took seconds before Jackson's sidearm was emptied, and he was already backing away, near the corner he'd just emerged from. Ducking back quickly around the corner yet again, he was already reloading and speaking into his radio. "Aura is active again! SPECIAL deployed. No visible effect."

"CENTRAL confirms SPECIAL deployed; no effect. Back off, disengage TWO. Special Law Enforcement and Cleanup Team are clearing the barricades now."

Jackson was already doing this, and there was no hiding the irritation in his voice as he acknowledged the comms. Peering around the corner at the others present, he realized he wasn't the only one wondering what it would take to finally drop this thing. It wasn't even clear it had even noticed he was present in between the rest of the rounds fired at the thing and yet it was still pushing forward.

One thing did get it's attention though as the doppleganger advanced towards the group still on the street. That was the sudden revving of an engine, and squeal of tires as black up-armoured, after market Chevrolet Suburban accelerated and veered wildly from where it had been quietly coming down the street.

The doppleganger just had time to turn it's head before the push-bar slammed into it, close to 50 mph. It tried to hang on but the suburban rocked back and forth as it the doppleganger lost its gripped and went under the passenger side tires rolling it a crumpled mass as the the 8,000lb or so vehicle's breaks activated and it went squealing into the front facade of Bill's Tattoo shop, going through the wall and coming to a stop with the driver and passenger side doors fully within the tattoo shop.

As the dust from the front of the shop hung in the air, the driver's side door propped open.

A young woman's head popped out looking back at the group still in the street. "That ah... that was a bad guy right...!?"

She stopped when the thing, which had seemed dead, started moving again.

"Oh shit!" Alejandra disappeared back into the Surburban, slamming the door closed again behind her.

Incredibly the thing shook its head, spitting some awful substance that might have been blood onto the pavement where it picked itself up on limbs that cracked and bent in ways that limbs were not meant to bend. Shaking it's grotesquely misshapen head - whose appearance had not been improved by being run over - it looked first to the Suburban, and then to the crowd gathered around it. Its mouth opened, and emitted a keening, ear piercing wail of rage that briefly drowned out the approaching sirens.

Still screaming, it braced itself on its seemingly broken limbs, prepared to stand once again.

At which point the wail was itself drowned out by the sound of smoking, squealing tires as the blacked out SUV's rear bumper took it square in the face. The SUV once again rocked and made a loud THUMP-THUMP as the spinning tires made contact with the doppleganger's face and body as Alejandra Escriva ran it over again in reverse.

Smoke and Steel

This was way too long, but let's kick things off with a bang.