12-27-2016, 05:02 PM
(This post was last modified: 12-27-2016, 05:52 PM by Kelly MacAryn.
Edit Reason: Unfortunate formatting
)
The ground-floor of the gate-house was a simple, torch-lit room, with arrow-slits in one wall, and a single wooden door leading to the street. It had walls and floors of bare gray stone, and a set of four metal ringlets bolted to the flagstones at each corner of the trap-door that led to the cellar: the anchor-points for the chains that had secured the grating. There was a desk in one corner of the room, covered in papers, with a duty roster posted on the wall beside it, and a plain wooden staircase leading to the next floor of the tower. A large stack of barrels and crates was tucked underneath the steps.
Kelly took all this in with passing interest, noting that the desk was heavy enough to serve as decent cover. He'd been suffering from exhaustion-induced tunnel-vision when he arrived, only vaguely aware of his surroundings. Now that the traveler was rested and released, he was appreciating the return of his mental acuity.
Of course, even though he was no longer technically imprisoned, Kelly still wasn't quite free to go.
"Reggie here will take you to see Commander Atelos," the sargeant said, indicating a blond, baby-faced, lanky young man holding a crossbow. The boy was wearing chainmail that was slightly too large. "The commander's in charge of defense-planning, so he gets to decide where to put you. And if anything should happen to Reggie on the way... well, you seem bright enough. I'm sure you understand how this works."
The traveler said that he did, and the tired sargeant left, pausing briefly on the stairs to shoot him a final, cautionary glare.
Kelly waved, suppressing a vindictive impulse to counter the glare with a grin, and turned his attention to Reggie. The young guard was staring up at his much taller, broader charge as though the Prime were an unexploded bomb.
"It looks like this is your show now," Kelly said, shouldering his staff. "Lead the way."
They didn't end up making it very far.
No sooner had the door of the gatehouse creaked shut behind them than a muffled mechanical roar split the stillness of the new-fallen night. It started low and distant as little more than a growl, but quickly rose to a pulsing crescendo that reverberated over the top of the wall and echoed off the city streets.
Kelly stopped to listen, his thick brows hunkering low over sunken sapphire eyes that gleamed with interest.
A car? Here?
As the sound of the engine grew closer, it brought other noises with it - the grinding whine of high-traction tires tearing the hell out of a dirt road as they took muddy corners at inadvisable speed. The hissing spray of soil and gravel being thrown into the air like the wake behind a speedboat.
And, of course, the thumping back-beat of a damn-near thermonuclear stereo-system.
Someone likes Indie-Punk...
Reggie looked at Kelly then back at the gatehouse, clearly nervous, and torn by indecision.
"Calm down," said the traveler, listening as the mysterious vehicle skidded to a halt. The engine and the music both cut out, and two doors slammed. "I think it's -"
"THE DEAD RISE!"
The call came from the walls, cutting off Kelly's attempt to reassure his nervous escort. Reggie made his decision, yanking open the door and charging back into the gate-house. The guard hefted his crossbow and took up a position at one of the arrow-slits. From somewhere further along the wall, the unmistakable THWAK of a light siege weapon going off was followed swiftly by the shrieking crunch of tearing metal and the hiss of a lethally offended radiator.
Kelly stayed where he was. He was fairly certain that, even in the Omniverse, armies of the damned didn't sound like a back-country street-race.
Five guards, led by a man with a mustache of legendary stature, thundered down the gatehouse stairs as the gates swung open, and rushed out to greet the new arrivals, halberds held high.
The traveler hung back and observed, lurking in the shadows of the gate.
The car was impressive, low, dangerous and dark, with bright red digital flames flickering on the hood, but the passengers were even more-so: The dark-complected man with the sword at his hip moved with a natural grace and confidence that spoke of considerable physical skill. Kelly smiled as the man chastised the guards, admiring his boldness, and took note of the swordsman's moment of joy as he blew apart the zombified hood-ornament.
The hulking mass of corroded armor and putrefying meat, on the other hand, seemed to promise nothing but brutal uncompromising violence at first glance. His body-language though, such as it was, was far more restrained than his cyberpunk companion. He could evidently afford to be - judging by the ballista shot he had just ignored, the armored figure's powers of survival were apparently far more advanced than even Kelly's own.
Kelly listened to the introductions with interest.
Hiro Protagonist? That has to be an alias...And he's an agent of the Empire. Assuming he's telling the truth about that, maybe I should have come as Alan Mayhew after all. I'll just have to work around that as best I can.
He had no idea what to think about Okor. The squelching pile of chitin-encrusted plating and shambling rot looked like a monster, but there was clearly more going on than that. Kelly simply didn't have enough data to form a clear picture.
As the group of guards surrounded the newcomers, beginning to lead them into the city, Kelly became aware of a presence at his shoulder. It was Reggie, his empty crossbow dangling from his belt. The boy was clearly trying very hard to look like a professional guard, in charge of a suspicious Prime, and not the only person how had fired without receiving an order.
When the procession passed through the gates, the young guard approached its mustachioed leader, exchanging hushed words. The older man didn't look terribly happy, his mouth forming a thin line, but finally he nodded, saying aloud, "Very well, private. But you are coming with us."
Reggie rushed back towards Kelly, opening his mouth to explain, but the situation wasn't hard to read. The traveler was already heading towards the group, casually positioning himself in the center with the other two suspicious Primes.
Kelly took all this in with passing interest, noting that the desk was heavy enough to serve as decent cover. He'd been suffering from exhaustion-induced tunnel-vision when he arrived, only vaguely aware of his surroundings. Now that the traveler was rested and released, he was appreciating the return of his mental acuity.
Of course, even though he was no longer technically imprisoned, Kelly still wasn't quite free to go.
"Reggie here will take you to see Commander Atelos," the sargeant said, indicating a blond, baby-faced, lanky young man holding a crossbow. The boy was wearing chainmail that was slightly too large. "The commander's in charge of defense-planning, so he gets to decide where to put you. And if anything should happen to Reggie on the way... well, you seem bright enough. I'm sure you understand how this works."
The traveler said that he did, and the tired sargeant left, pausing briefly on the stairs to shoot him a final, cautionary glare.
Kelly waved, suppressing a vindictive impulse to counter the glare with a grin, and turned his attention to Reggie. The young guard was staring up at his much taller, broader charge as though the Prime were an unexploded bomb.
"It looks like this is your show now," Kelly said, shouldering his staff. "Lead the way."
They didn't end up making it very far.
No sooner had the door of the gatehouse creaked shut behind them than a muffled mechanical roar split the stillness of the new-fallen night. It started low and distant as little more than a growl, but quickly rose to a pulsing crescendo that reverberated over the top of the wall and echoed off the city streets.
Kelly stopped to listen, his thick brows hunkering low over sunken sapphire eyes that gleamed with interest.
A car? Here?
As the sound of the engine grew closer, it brought other noises with it - the grinding whine of high-traction tires tearing the hell out of a dirt road as they took muddy corners at inadvisable speed. The hissing spray of soil and gravel being thrown into the air like the wake behind a speedboat.
And, of course, the thumping back-beat of a damn-near thermonuclear stereo-system.
Someone likes Indie-Punk...
Reggie looked at Kelly then back at the gatehouse, clearly nervous, and torn by indecision.
"Calm down," said the traveler, listening as the mysterious vehicle skidded to a halt. The engine and the music both cut out, and two doors slammed. "I think it's -"
"THE DEAD RISE!"
The call came from the walls, cutting off Kelly's attempt to reassure his nervous escort. Reggie made his decision, yanking open the door and charging back into the gate-house. The guard hefted his crossbow and took up a position at one of the arrow-slits. From somewhere further along the wall, the unmistakable THWAK of a light siege weapon going off was followed swiftly by the shrieking crunch of tearing metal and the hiss of a lethally offended radiator.
Kelly stayed where he was. He was fairly certain that, even in the Omniverse, armies of the damned didn't sound like a back-country street-race.
Five guards, led by a man with a mustache of legendary stature, thundered down the gatehouse stairs as the gates swung open, and rushed out to greet the new arrivals, halberds held high.
The traveler hung back and observed, lurking in the shadows of the gate.
The car was impressive, low, dangerous and dark, with bright red digital flames flickering on the hood, but the passengers were even more-so: The dark-complected man with the sword at his hip moved with a natural grace and confidence that spoke of considerable physical skill. Kelly smiled as the man chastised the guards, admiring his boldness, and took note of the swordsman's moment of joy as he blew apart the zombified hood-ornament.
The hulking mass of corroded armor and putrefying meat, on the other hand, seemed to promise nothing but brutal uncompromising violence at first glance. His body-language though, such as it was, was far more restrained than his cyberpunk companion. He could evidently afford to be - judging by the ballista shot he had just ignored, the armored figure's powers of survival were apparently far more advanced than even Kelly's own.
Kelly listened to the introductions with interest.
Hiro Protagonist? That has to be an alias...And he's an agent of the Empire. Assuming he's telling the truth about that, maybe I should have come as Alan Mayhew after all. I'll just have to work around that as best I can.
He had no idea what to think about Okor. The squelching pile of chitin-encrusted plating and shambling rot looked like a monster, but there was clearly more going on than that. Kelly simply didn't have enough data to form a clear picture.
As the group of guards surrounded the newcomers, beginning to lead them into the city, Kelly became aware of a presence at his shoulder. It was Reggie, his empty crossbow dangling from his belt. The boy was clearly trying very hard to look like a professional guard, in charge of a suspicious Prime, and not the only person how had fired without receiving an order.
When the procession passed through the gates, the young guard approached its mustachioed leader, exchanging hushed words. The older man didn't look terribly happy, his mouth forming a thin line, but finally he nodded, saying aloud, "Very well, private. But you are coming with us."
Reggie rushed back towards Kelly, opening his mouth to explain, but the situation wasn't hard to read. The traveler was already heading towards the group, casually positioning himself in the center with the other two suspicious Primes.