dear_mun | (no subject)

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Any attempt to find a face for me was destined to be futile. I confess that your struggle has amused me: after all, appearance will always be malleable. It’s enough not to look like a child or a knight.

But since we are here at last, I trust you will confine yourself to worthwhile interruptions of my duties. Should you feel the need to waste anyone’s time, you have our mutual friend to call upon. When you find means to further the Empire’s interests, I will be waiting eagerly.

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[Well. Heretical though the practice of magic may be, he can no longer say it doesn't have its uses. A magic sight so finely honed as to even distinguish low beasts could come in very handy, particularly on the trek back to Paris. It's a pity that Stratos's prior allegiances will keep him from crossing over through the portal willingly. ]

Good. [He makes the declaration with a kind of grim satisfaction, looking up again the way the mage indicated their lone sentry waits.] We'll find a way up to that post in the rear then. Stay close to me, I don't want you getting within range of the archers.

[Perhaps the additional instruction isn't needed, given the field experience Stratos spoke of earlier. Still, the tribune is a mage first and foremost. It's hard for Bennet to see the man as a true soldier, even if he apparently holds such a rank.

At the additional information, he pauses and glances back, dark eyebrows lifted. ] Traps...? I see the bandits of this land have a touch more cunning than the ones of my own. [The tiniest flicker of a smile dances across his mouth, but then it is gone and he nods in stern acknowledgment ] Very well. A step behind me, and mind your surroundings.

[He starts moving at that, taking his own advice and being careful to watch his step. ]

[Stratos is about the last man who needs to be told to beware outlaws’ arrows. Bennet has no way of knowing it, though, and the tribune holds his tongue. This is neither the time nor the company for such conversation. There’s merely a grimmer set to his mouth when he nods. He’ll have his own ward ready in the back of his mind as they creep up among the rocks, the latter task made far easier now that his hands are free and his balance unhampered.]

[And if it feels ridiculous, to be ordered around by a foreigner in the Empire’s domain… well, it’s not the moment for pride, either. He needs to mind his position and keep alert for any signs that they’ve been spotted… and watch his step indeed. There is a back path up to the rocks overlooking the camp, and it’s unguarded for a reason. At a couple of points muddy tripwires are strung across the path. The mechanisms may be crude, but they’d serve quite well to bring a cascade of unstable rocks down upon the unwary infiltrator.]

[Having avoided those, one must still escape any casual glances from the lookouts below, though if anything they’re focused on the front side of the camp. It’s been some while since their friends went out to investigate all that shouting, after all. They ought to be back soon…]

[The lone archer they’ll find up there is certainly not looking for an attack from his escape route. He’s busy chewing on some dried-out bread and grumbling to himself, bow propped against the little table at which he sits.]

Ahhh, what’s taking ‘em so long…? Probably found another bunch of pilgrims… or one of those kitty caravans. Bet Eron's hiding the good stuff before they come tell the boss. Huh. Hope someone guts that sly son of a hag...

[Bennet's estimation of the mage, slight as it is, rises a notch when the man makes no objections and does as he is instructed without complaint. They have no time to spare on petty squabbling, and he's glad to see that Stratos appreciates that. Sheathing his sword for better balance, he leads the way with much more caution than he exercised earlier. The back path they tread is steeper than the path they followed to get here, the rocks more treacherous, but the real reason for his caution comes from the warning Stratos gave him.]

[And a prudent warning it was, for after a few minutes or so of careful trekking he spies the telltale signs of a tripwire, throws his hand out to stop Stratos only to find the mage had already seen it himself. He might have found the notion of trap-laying bandits amusing earlier, but he's not smiling now, and his jaw sets as he moves with infinite care over the deadly cord. Cunning bandits indeed, for the tripwire is strung along a place in the path where the boulders are too high to be climbed over, leaving the only way forward over or through. Having seen this, he guesses any other tripwires will be strung across similarly difficult-to-pass locations, and fortunately for the both of them he is right. Perhaps not so cunning after all.]

[There are still the lookouts to beware of, and he stays low to minimize their chances of being spotted. Properly trained sentries would likely have still seen then, for the back path hardly provides any cover, but the typical outlaw disinclination for discipline works in their favor.]

[True to form, their target isn't even on his feet, but instead is just sitting at a table and grousing. Smiling tightly, Bennet holds up a hand in unspoken command for Stratos to wait, and when the mage stills he draws the knife that he commandeered from him earlier and silently approaches their man. Grabbing him from behind, he claps one hand over the bandit's mouth and with the other slits his throat in one quick fluid motion, leaning his struggling victim over the table so that none of the outlaw's blood spills across the ragged leather tunic he wears.]

Search him. [The bandit never got a chance to make more than few muffled shouts, but just the same Bennet leaves him where he is and quickly looks back down the post, making sure those two men Stratos mentioned being closest to this one aren't coming.]

[For a knight, Bennet’s remarkably skilled with stealthy assassination. Stratos moves up cautiously, though he’s brisk when he turns the dead man over to search him. The faster he finishes the task, the sooner they can move on and out of sight. Despite his rank, it’s not the first time he’s emptied a stranger’s pockets, alive or dead, and he quietly places the contents on the table: a couple small pouches of coins; a wrapped hunk of cheese; a red potion bottle; an iron knife.]

[The sentries are still focused outward, but there are voices from below the path, among the scattered tents and firepits that make up the camp. One of the two bandits nearby is demanding if the other heard anything – and then orders him to go check up top. Which means the chief, such as he is, may be not far below them. Stratos casts a glance at Bennet.]

I can deal with the archers. [An offer and an assurance: Bennet seems to downright revel in swordplay, but there’s much less thrill in dodging arrows.]

[Though he much prefers to kill fairly and with honor, the shameful truth is that this isn't the first man he's slain like a common cutthroat from behind, nor is it like to be the last. Taking cover behind a tree that only barely conceals his tautly muscled frame, Bennet stills and listens intently to the voices from below, returning Stratos's knife to his belt and drawing his sword from its sheath.]

[The conversation he hears is close enough that he could probably advance and be upon the two bandits before they knew what was happening. But such rash action would quickly rouse the entire camp, and even his skills aren't up to fighting off a dozen men all at once. He stays where he is, eyes flickering over to Stratos, and at the mage's suggestion he nods.]

Best ready that stoneflesh spell of yours. [Not just for the archers; the next few minutes will likely get very chaotic, and he doesn't want to worry about some desperate bandit trying to take Stratos hostage in the confusion. The second bandit is ambling his way up the trail now, his axe drawn but swinging casually at his side.]

'ey, Joven! You alive up here? You better not have gone and dozed off on watch again, the boss'll have your head for it this time... !!!

[This wordless exclamation of shock is brought on by Bennet stepping out from behind the tree before him, as suddenly and startlingly as a lover aiming to surprise his lady. But instead of a bouquet of flowers his gift is the point of a sword, thrust through the weedy outlaw's chest before the man can do anything more than start to raise his axe and suck in air to shout. Bennet lets the bandit fall, then spares one more glance back at Stratos.]

Don't betray me, Tribune. [A warning and an admission: by trusting Stratos with this he's effectively placing his life in the mage's hands, and should he fail to keep his end of the bargain Bennet will find himself shot to pieces in very short order. But he's giving his new ally his faith, and so there's no hesitation in him as he charges down the path, hoping to catch up to the chief and kill him before he realizes that his camp is under attack.]

[OOC: Apologies for the delay; I actually had this tag written up yesterday, but there was an outage with my Internet provider that lasted all day.]

[Stratos doesn’t deign to answer, though he meets Bennet’s eyes calmly enough for that moment, as he draws his hood over his head. Then the knight is on his way, and it’s not clear if the mage has taken his advice or not, but he’ll feel Stratos draw on his magic once, twice, and then a third time closer down the path. Stratos wasn’t trained to fight from behind the lines, and when chaos is a foregone conclusion he much prefers to be the one instigating it. Nor can he actually throw any stones when it comes to Bennet’s pragmatic methods. As the latter bounds down the rocks to find an iron-armored orc drawing a greataxe on him, there’s a faint sound on the edge of hearing. Stratos runs past the imminent duel, invisible and muffled, trusting Bennet’s skill with a blade.]

[He’s heading straight past the unwary bandits and for those sentry posts. Having held back on the strength he poured into his invisibility spell, he only has moments to get out of sight. Unseen, unheard, he scrambles up the ladder to one of the raised platforms. The archer at the top is peering back toward the sound of shouts and ringing steel, only to jerk and collapse as Stratos reappears at his side. The archer on the next platform gets an ice spike through his chest almost before he can draw, and his dying arrow goes wild as he falls. Which leaves the archers below on the rocks almost at the mage’s mercy. But he can’t spend all day taking shots at them – and he’s conscious of the clash further uphill, still undecided by the sound of things. ]

[Stratos glances over the two he can see, quickly, and then loses one more bolt: a frenzy spell. Let the other archers deal with that for a few moments. The mage ducks behind his wooden cover to refocus and recover. The archers are his first priority, but if he can disrupt the other bandits from ganging up on Bennet then he will. He just needs to catch his breath, so to speak. And look out for a sword. The knife swiped from the first bandit won’t get him far and sometimes it's useful to switch tactics. He finds it takes people by surprise.]

[He can hear curses being thrown Bennet’s way and despite himself, the tribune smiles grimly. They ought to save their breath.]

[OOC: no problem, internet access and RL tend to be pretty variable this time of year anyway :)]

Edited 2018-12-28 22:38 (UTC)

[Orcs don't exist in the world that Bennet calls home, so when he leaps down from the rocks and finds himself faced with one, he's taken aback for the briefest of moments. But then the grey-skinned creature is swinging its greataxe at him and discipline takes over as the knight dodges back and circles around the hulking chieftain, aiming to take advantage of his greater speed and the slower swing of his enemy's weapon. This orc is chief here for a reason, though, and for the first time Bennet finds himself faced with an opponent equal to his own ability. He feels the now-familiar tingle of Stratos drawing on his magic, but preoccupied as he is there's no opportunity for him to see what the mage is doing. Metal screams on metal as the finely-wrought Damascus steel of Bennet's sword lands a quick thrust, punching just through the Orsimer armor but failing to penetrate through to the flesh beneath.]

[This won't be a battle he will win easily. Knowing he doesn't have the strength to meet that greataxe in direct combat, Bennet takes to circling his foe, stabbing at any gaps in the armor that he can see, then darting back to avoid the greataxe's swing, forcing the orcish chieftain to keep turning and turning just to keep him in his sights. Back and forth they go and Bennet senses that it is working, the orc seems to be moving a little slower and his greataxe isn't rising quite so high when he raises it to swing. But their clash has more than attracted the rest of the camp's attention by now, and while no arrows seem to be flying his way he can hear the sound of boots on dirt as the bandits not otherwise distracted rush to help their leader.]

[Bennet grimaces, breath hissing between his teeth. Against the chieftain alone he could have kept this up but if he remains locked in this combat he will be a dead man. Against his warrior's urge to see the chieftain on his back he forces himself to break away, just in time to meet one, then two of the bandit reinforcements, greasy humans each armed with iron maces. They swing at him, hoping to trap him between them, but as with their chieftain he dodges their blows, moving to the right so that the sun is at his back and swinging his blade sideways to take off top of the closer bandit's head, splattering the other bandit and Bennet himself in a splatter of blood and brains.]

[Three bandits are now two, but the dead one bought his chieftain time to recover, and Bennet can hear still more coming. Skilled though he is, he might not survive this without some assistance from the unseen Stratos.]

Edited 2018-12-29 21:22 (UTC)

[With a moment spared to take in the sounds of battle, it dawns on Stratos how many voices he hears shouting between himself and Bennet. How many bandits the other must be facing now. Two are dead at Bennet’s hand and two at his, and the archers are occupied for a spell- but that still leaves five, one of whom must be the chief. Bennet is frighteningly skilled with that sword, but still…]

[It’s true there is a temptation to abandon him. It would be easy for the tribune, his steps already silenced, to cloak himself again, slip away and leave the knight to his fate.. Whether Bennet escapes or not, the survivors would likely be in no state to pursue – or to face an uninjured and prepared battlemage if they should find him. Moreover, his comrades must be aware that he’s unaccounted for now; he knows they must be out there searching. The option is there, and he knows it. Except that for better or for worse, that is not the man Stratos Caelus was raised to be.]

[He glances back over the low wall of his post, and still hears the bloodthirsty cries of the frenzied archer attacking his comrades. They could yet spot him when he drops back down into the camp. He’ll have to risk their arrows. Stratos grabs the rough ladder and all but slides straight down it, armor rattling soundlessly about him as he runs to get a better sight of Bennet’s duel.]

[He may be just in time: the pack of reinforcements are advancing with rusty weapons held high. No chance for clever strategizing: Stratos gathers the evocation swift as a drawn breath and slings a ball of fire into them before they can fan out properly. One flinches away through pure luck, no more than singed; but the searing magefire catches one full in the back and splashes his neighbor as it bursts. The sudden screams don’t elicit so much as blink from him. The lesser bandits scatter in alarm, one beating unnecessarily at his blackened furs. It gives Stratos a moment to halt and ready his stance; beneath his hood the tribune’s eyes dart over the opposition and Bennet, blood-drenched but standing, before the survivors can refocus their ire on the wretched mage.]

I’m not interrupting, am I…?

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