01-29-2018, 03:54 PM
Bud Dupree poured over his forged letter with a more studious glance than the Sage had been hoping he would. More and more the Sage was growing concerned that this encounter might not work out in their favor. His eyes darted around the room, noting the astronomer’s study. If they needed to make a quick exit, that desk would have the most useful information. Bud was still dwelling on the letter, and raised a finger to prevent the Sage’s interruption. He felt it prudent not to pressure the obviously agitated man if they were going to have any sort of cooperation.
The astronomer went over to a drawer and began rifling through papers with intention. Graowr’s neck started to stretch slightly as she tried to see what the astronomer was looking at. For his part the Sage was assessing the astronomer’s hidden defenses. There were at least two bodyguards in the back room, and he thought he heard the sounds of another below them. His eyes scanned the surroundings for a trapdoor, and though he could not find one there was a promising peephole at the base of one wall that could easily be shot from. Bud Dupree clearly wasn’t taking chances when it came to his defenses, which made sense given how long he had been hiding on the Empire’s doorstep.
“It’s quite fascinating.” Bud said at length, his back to the two primes as he held a piece of paper up to the light. The Sage said nothing, his own paranoia growing to match that which clearly possessed the astronomer.
“What is?” the majin asked next to him, seemingly oblivious to the shift in the conversation’s tone.
“The seal is definitely Jad’s, and the handwriting isn’t even half bad a copy...” the astronomer began, and the Sage tensed, Blast! Which of us does he think is the more dangerous target? He thought desperately, eyes straying towards the door and foxhole.
“I assume you don’t know this, but Jad’s not found his piece yet, and he certainly didn’t see your sorry behinds recently if you’ve been playing with Karl Jak. I’d ask you what you want, but I can smell the imperial stink on both of you.” Before the Sage could intercede, Bud whirled around, a revolver in hand and a shot rang out towards the bibliomancer.
“I got it!” Graowr called out excitedly, her arm stretching to catch the shot. Her speed was as astonishing as ever, and her arm intercepted the missile. Her own face changed from glee to confusion as she retracted the arm back, noticing that the limb had been encased in icy shards.
Spells from a pistol? The Sage thought as he whirled to face the approaching bodyguards, I suppose disguises should be layered… the two elves rushed into the room, one with sword and shield, immediately closing with the Sage, while the over interposed between Dupree and Graowr, a pair of strange gauntlets connected by wires to a large tank on her back.
The Sage found himself too busy to shout more than a brief warning, as the elven swordsman attacked with precision and without mercy. Strike after strike was barely turned by his dueling cane, as the Sage worked his way around the room. One second's glance towards the peek hole confirmed as he had feared. The barrel of an ornate shotgun glinted from the darkness of the hole.
The Sage took a harsh strike across his back and left shoulder as he leapt away, clearing the room as he dove towards the foxhole. His hand erupted into flames as he neared, slamming into the wall and reaching his flaming fist into the hole, searching for the weapon’s owner. His fingers found hair, and he snagged a handful, hearing a cry of panic from the would-be ambusher.
He retracted his hand a moment later, as pain flashed along his forearm from the dagger that had been jabbed in defense. He didn’t have time to follow up though as the bodyguard closed shield-first, bodyslamming the aging man into a shelf full of books and stacked jars. Four against two is not our best choice of odds… the Sage thought wincing as he rolled away from the followup sword thrust. Black ink leaked from his forearm, where a disturbingly large gash had been sliced. He could smell burning hair however, so the Sage could only hope that he had at least disabled that foe for now. Instead he simply had to overpower an armored elven warrior with an oaken walking stick.
Simple, right?
The astronomer went over to a drawer and began rifling through papers with intention. Graowr’s neck started to stretch slightly as she tried to see what the astronomer was looking at. For his part the Sage was assessing the astronomer’s hidden defenses. There were at least two bodyguards in the back room, and he thought he heard the sounds of another below them. His eyes scanned the surroundings for a trapdoor, and though he could not find one there was a promising peephole at the base of one wall that could easily be shot from. Bud Dupree clearly wasn’t taking chances when it came to his defenses, which made sense given how long he had been hiding on the Empire’s doorstep.
“It’s quite fascinating.” Bud said at length, his back to the two primes as he held a piece of paper up to the light. The Sage said nothing, his own paranoia growing to match that which clearly possessed the astronomer.
“What is?” the majin asked next to him, seemingly oblivious to the shift in the conversation’s tone.
“The seal is definitely Jad’s, and the handwriting isn’t even half bad a copy...” the astronomer began, and the Sage tensed, Blast! Which of us does he think is the more dangerous target? He thought desperately, eyes straying towards the door and foxhole.
“I assume you don’t know this, but Jad’s not found his piece yet, and he certainly didn’t see your sorry behinds recently if you’ve been playing with Karl Jak. I’d ask you what you want, but I can smell the imperial stink on both of you.” Before the Sage could intercede, Bud whirled around, a revolver in hand and a shot rang out towards the bibliomancer.
“I got it!” Graowr called out excitedly, her arm stretching to catch the shot. Her speed was as astonishing as ever, and her arm intercepted the missile. Her own face changed from glee to confusion as she retracted the arm back, noticing that the limb had been encased in icy shards.
Spells from a pistol? The Sage thought as he whirled to face the approaching bodyguards, I suppose disguises should be layered… the two elves rushed into the room, one with sword and shield, immediately closing with the Sage, while the over interposed between Dupree and Graowr, a pair of strange gauntlets connected by wires to a large tank on her back.
The Sage found himself too busy to shout more than a brief warning, as the elven swordsman attacked with precision and without mercy. Strike after strike was barely turned by his dueling cane, as the Sage worked his way around the room. One second's glance towards the peek hole confirmed as he had feared. The barrel of an ornate shotgun glinted from the darkness of the hole.
The Sage took a harsh strike across his back and left shoulder as he leapt away, clearing the room as he dove towards the foxhole. His hand erupted into flames as he neared, slamming into the wall and reaching his flaming fist into the hole, searching for the weapon’s owner. His fingers found hair, and he snagged a handful, hearing a cry of panic from the would-be ambusher.
He retracted his hand a moment later, as pain flashed along his forearm from the dagger that had been jabbed in defense. He didn’t have time to follow up though as the bodyguard closed shield-first, bodyslamming the aging man into a shelf full of books and stacked jars. Four against two is not our best choice of odds… the Sage thought wincing as he rolled away from the followup sword thrust. Black ink leaked from his forearm, where a disturbingly large gash had been sliced. He could smell burning hair however, so the Sage could only hope that he had at least disabled that foe for now. Instead he simply had to overpower an armored elven warrior with an oaken walking stick.
Simple, right?
If history is to become legend, it first must be recorded.