Chapter 66: Projecting
The Seekers are channeling now.
Cropper has begun to edge back to his line, his fellows are dancing, howling, baying for the blood of your people and the hounds grin mightily, laughing as they rise.
Things are probably about to erupt into violence and you wish you could do something about.
Hell, maybe you can.
You have certainly done dumber things after all and you are still standing...
“Lyssa,” you whisper.
“Yes,” she hissing back, her eyes darting between the battlemages and the demon scouts.
“Try to use the necklace to reach Mazzarin,” it is not like you much want to see the ancient archmage again but you only have so many options available to you.
“What?” Lyssa and Thaïs ask as one.
“Well,” you shrug, “These damn amulets are supposed to emit a signal right? Maybe we can get his attention with them and it would certainly help our situation.”
The look they give you, surprise ribboned through with skepticism, tells you everything you need to know. Still they nod, without any other options they readily choose to follow your plan.
“So,” your better half begins, “While she is praying for help what will we do?”
You grace her with a slight smirk, “Try to talk them down of course.”
“Of course,” she laughs, “What is the worst that could happen?”
You beam, “That's the spirit.”
“I assume you want me to do the talking?” she matches your grin.
“If you could,” you gesture for her to step forward.
“
Good to see you are learning to embrace your shortcomings,” Caoilainn chimes in.
“Pay attention to them, not me,” you order her, “If we are about to come under attack I want to know about it as soon as possible.”
“
Can do,” your ethereal office responds with only a little sarcasm, “
Just don't get us killed,” she really could not resist, could she?
You contemplate giving Thaïs more detailed instructions but you shake the idea off. You are as much a part of her as she is of you and she will know far better than you do how best to achieve your goals.
To prove the point she begins with the Seekers, clearly the more belligerent of the two parties, “Old Man!” she calls clearly over the muttering of the mages.
“What!” he shout back.
“Stop channeling!” she answers, it is admittedly a bit difficult to carry out a nuanced conversation along a battleline but what other option do you have really. If the Seekers turn on you and unleash their spells it would be far better to have something, even warm bodies, between you and them.
“How about no!” the Old Man answers with a feral, hostile laugh. His followers readily join him.
“These gentlemen are not lying!” she gestures to the hunters, “Mazzarin is alive and we need time to verify their claims.”
“Don't tell me you believe in this nonsense!” the Old Man is a damn sight more stubborn than you had hoped for.
Well, maybe you will have to share a bit more information with your allies. You shout above the growing chants, “We have met him!”
Well that catches their attention for a moment, a few of the more junior Seekers even stop chanting before their fellows prod them back into whatever ritual they are working.
The Old Man seems less certain now, if only slightly, “What proof have you got!”
“If you would stand down,” you answer, “If you would merely give us a chance we can explain everything.”
Well, maybe not everything. If the Seekers knew
everything they probably
would attack you on the spot.
Your better half pushes on, “If I may ask, did you feel a powerful signal originating from the desert and traveling north two months ago? Surely you must have?”
A few of the Seekers nod to one another and begin to mumble.
Maybe she is winning them over.
The Old Man shakes his head and replies resolutely, “I don't know what that was two months ago but it could have been anything. Mazzarin would not conspire with demons!”
Maybe not.
Cropper seems to have had quite enough of being called a demon, “We are not demons ye bleedin' tick! Cousins, I am with you but I can not vouch for my brothers,” he gestures quickly behind him with his thumb and sure enough they are creeping forward.
You look to Thaïs and she shrugs, “Words can only help with those willing to listen...”
Damn...
The Seekers spell begins to build to a head, the chanting growing in intensity and you catch the odd flicker of citrine light dancing around their end of the line. The hunters have begun to spread out in response. They advance, slowly jogging forward, swinging their clubs at their sides.
Well, this is going to be bloody, any moment now...
“I got it!” Lyssa shouts from behind you, “It is working!”
No sooner are those words out of her mouth then you receive all the confirmation you could ever need.
You have been told that your amulets emit a very slight signal, something so carefully camouflaged that it would take magical mastery or very specific instruments to ever detect it.
That is no longer the case.
When her amulet roars to life the signal it emits is overwhelming, it is akin to being dragged from a dark room into the sunlight. No, it is akin to being dragged from a dark room and then pitched directly into the sun. It is completely devastating and everyone: the Seekers, the hunters, their hounds, anyone with even a shred of magical talent immediately stops what they are doing and turns to gaze upon Lyssa.
This leaves your mercenaries rather confused, but only for a moment.
Low, brass horns sound.
A single, blaring note that fills the heavens.
The hunters immediate drop to their knees.
The Seekers have completely forgotten about their attempts to murder the scouts.
A second, higher note sounds. Shrill, it rings in your ears and above Lyssa's head an image begins to form.
An image of a single, twelve metre tall, bronze M.
It hangs in the air as one second draws into the next.
The Old Man gapes.
The M dissolves into a kaleidoscope of colours, shards of magical energy that pour out over your heads and resolve into a thousand tiny wings. Glass butterflies, neat trick.
The swarm of insects push out between the Seeker's line and the hunters, reassembling themselves into the image of a man. Mazzarin, from what you can tell. Though this projection, and you are fairly sure it is in fact a projection, has a number of noticeable differences from the living man you met in the desert.
For starters, the image is twelve feet tall and clad in golden armour with rubies set along its collar. The staff the projection holds writhes in its hands, a pair of serpents, one of ivory and the other of obsidian, dance back and forth. Upon the projections brow is a triple crown topped with the largest sapphire you have ever seen.
It seems that even in his illusions the self important bastard dresses to impress.
“Mazzarin!” the Old Man mutters and falls to his knees, followed by the rest of Seekers and, grudgingly, their guardians as well.
“I AM MAZZARIN!” the projection bellows, “AND THE BEARERS OF THESE AMULETS ARE MY PROPERTY!”
Property?
Fucking hell.
Not allies...
Not acquaintances...
Not apprentices...
Not servants...
Property...
Yeah, that probably is how he sees most people.
“I, ah, I am sorry, ” the Old Man begins.
“THE GREAT MAGE MAZZARIN CARES NOT FOR YOUR EXCUSES!” the projection responds.
The Old Man bows as low as possible and you consider the projection. How exactly is Mazzarin communicating over so much distance like this?
The Old Man bows and scrapes, the change in his demeanour really is quite remarkable, “My Lord, if I had known that my employers spoke for the greatest champion of the Light to ever walk the realms I would have-”
“YES,” the projection once more speaks, “I AM CERTAIN YOU ARE QUITE SORRY FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE! NO DOUBT YOU WISH TO KNOW HOW YOU CAN REDEEM YOURSELVES AND ESCAPE THE PUNISHMENT YOU SO RICHLY DESERVE!”
“Um, well, yes, certainly,” the Old Man answers unsteadily.
“THERE IS BUT ONE WAY!” the projection continues, “YOU MUST PROTECT MY PETS!”
Pets? As if property were not bad enough, now you are compared to animals?
“YOU MUST SEE THAT NO HARM COMES TO THEM!” the projection smiles, “THAT IS ALL YOU MUST DO FOR I AM COMING! I WILL FIND THEM AND YOU, AND I SWEAR THAT IF THEY SUFFER FROM A SINGLE BROKEN NAIL, A SINGLE HAIR OUT OF PLACE, A SINGLE CLIPPED TAIL THEN YOU SHALL SUFFER FOR TEN THOUSAND YEARS!”
Tail?
Oh, no...
“Lyssa,” you hiss, “Turn it off now.”
She shakes her necklace, slaps it, “I, I don't know how,” she weakly replies.
“BUT IF YOU DO THIS! IF YOU PROTECT MY BELOVED HOUNDS THEN I SHALL REWARD YOU WITH RICHES BEYOND MEASURE, I WILL-” the projection sneezes, “Damn it!”
A second voice chimes in, one you can just about place, “I am afraid we will have to start from the beginning again Sir.”
“Not again!” the projection whines, “Have you any clue, any clue at all how many times I have tried to record this?”
Once more the second voice answers, “I assure you Sir, you will be completely happy with the end result. No one will even think of stealing your dogs again.”
The projection sighs, “Wyrd I hope so. Every time that faceless, spineless bastard kills my pets, every time, it just, it tears a piece out of you...”
This is horrible, the Seekers have already risen and are staring at the production unfolding before them with a mixture of confusion and rage.
Still, you can not tear yourself away. This is a side of Mazzarin you have never seen before.
The projection sniffles, “I just, I just wanted my little Aidan back. He was such a good boy... They, they sent me his paws, one at a time...”
“It will be alright Sir,” the second voice answers cheerfully, very cheerfully, “You will get a new dog, no, three new dogs! And with our necklaces you will never lose them again!”
Wait, now you know where you recognize that voice from. That is the little, jolly Dietfried. They must have helped record this message for Mazzarin.
The projection nods several times, “Thank you. I just need a moment,” he coughs, “Alright, let's begin again.”
“Whenever you are ready,” the Dietfried answers.
“Ah,” the very weary projection of Mazzarin pauses, “None of this will show up in the final message right?”
“Oh course not,” Dietfried reassures him, “We are professionals, we will edit it out.”
“Good,” he nods, “I am not paying extra though, we had a deal.”
A third voice chimes in, definitely belonging to the taller Dietfried, “Do not worry Sir, you will get exactly what you payed for.”
The projection once more dissolves into a swarm of beating wings raised up into the growing darkness of the heavens.
Berty begins laughing, as do a few of your mercenaries.
Cropper looks particularly amused.
The Old Man looks anything but, “What kind of tricks are you trying to weave Derryth!”
Seems he is not quite happy about being humiliated in front of a mere recording.
“I- Ah, well,” you really are not sure how to answer that question at all.
Thankfully Thaïs is with you, “You wanted proof that we have contact with the Great Mage. That is your proof.”
He crosses his arms, “That message could be hundreds of years old, assuming it is even real!”
“But you have no way to know that,” your partner insists, “If you are correct and we are lying then all you lose is a chance to fight and perhaps a chance to die, but if we are right then you will act against the wishes of the single most,” she pauses for a moment, “The single most powerful man in the world. Someone that clearly cares for his allies, someone that clearly cares for those that depend on him, do you really wish to take that chance?”
The Old Man grunts, “Fine, we will do things your way but I insist on being present when we interrogate these supposed spies.”
Good, that is a start. You will likely have a bit of trouble winning over the Seekers going forward but at least you prevented a bloodba-
Horns.
Always with the damned horns.
They are coming from the distance, from the growing shadows cast by the setting sun. It won't be long now until the darkness comes and then whatever being, or beings, Cropper serves will likely make a grand appearance themselves.
You turn to the hunter, “Cousin Cropper, we have the spies now, you know that we serve the same man that you do and that we can be trusted to properly interrogate them.”
The hunter nods, “I know all that and more, Cousin Derry. But there is a problem, being that I can not let you keep our quarry,” he bows low, “I am terribly sorry, miserably so in fact, but my brothers and I can not go back empty handed. There would be a beating waiting, a right proper one too, not just a few quick jabs mind you, so you see, that can not be.”
“Well Cousin,” you shake your head, “I can't just give up the dwarves without proof.”
Cropper grins, “Mighty fair of you Cousin, a damn fine head you have and all that,” he shifts onto his right foot and scratches his side, “I know I can't be expecting you to throw your allies away and all. Which is why I suggested, and I am sure you remember what I suggested, I suggested that we all get nice and comfortable and wait for my Lord. Then I don't get a beating and you get to talk to the one in charge. Sound good?”
Not really, if you are honest. You doubt that a 'lord', whatever that might be, will travel without an entourage and you don't particularly want to have to negotiate with a whole army of these things without more support.
Thaïs reads your reluctance, “As much as we would love to meet your Lord I am afraid, Cousin Cropper, that we really must be on our way.”
The hunter pouts, “Well, like I said Cousin, I can't be letting you off with our prisoners,” reluctantly he begins to limber up, “I will try to be gentle cousin but no promises...”
“Is there no way to avoid such savagery,” Thaïs asks, making one last attempt.
Cropper glances over his shoulder, “Well, hell,” he grins, “Tell you what Cousins. You give me six of the dwarves and I will talk the boys into giving back your wounded one. Then I can say I caught a few and I can lead my Lord away when he comes after the horns. I won't get a beating and you will still have a couple of them to interrogate.”
You are sure that, that idea sounds reasonable to Cropper but it would be a damn uncomfortable thing to have to do, choosing who goes and who stays.
Cropper does not seem to be in too much of a rush, but then if he is telling the truth he has no reason to rush. He just has to stay put until his lord arrives and this will cease to be his problem.
You, however, do not have the luxury of time.
1. You choose to:
A) You will give Cropper the dwarves he was chasing. If they are servants of the Watcher all you will lose is information. If Cropper is lying though you will be sending honest dwarves to their deaths. Once Cropper has the dwarves he will return your captured scout and he will do his best to lead his lord away from your direction. If you fall back, up the road, for a few hours you should be safe. This will add a bit more time to your trip though as you will need to backtrack, move off the roads through the desert and swing around the hunting host. It will likely take you a day and a half longer than planned.
B) You will take Cropper's bargain and give him six of the dwarves. The option will play out much like A except you will retain a few of the supposed spies. This may give you a bit of information if you get a real spy and it may save a few innocent dwarves if they are not. This will also add time to your journey, a day and a half if you do not interrogate the dwarves you keep and two days if you do.
i. You interrogate the dwarves yourself.
ii.You do not interrogate the dwarves. You will deal with them when/if you reach the army instead.
C) You attack Cropper. You have no intention of waiting for his Lord and you have no intention of turning over any of the suspected spies either.
D) You wait patiently for his Lord to arrive. You will simply have to discuss the matter with whoever is in charge, even if the prospect of doing so worries you a little.
E)
Operation: Deterrence
F)
freeform