[Suzerain of Sheol]

[Suzerain of Sheol]

No one is comfortable in Old Lady Marl's cellar. Lambent torches fill the dank, crowded room with unreliable light, glinting off the blades of stockpiled weapons as fumes of oily smoke make breathing a burden, mingling unhappily with the must of dried herbs.

Beyond the crackling of the torches, silence fills the space, broken only by the intermittent sobs of the young man in the corner, hunched over on a dusty mattress.

"They're really... going to kill him... I can't believe it..."

Across the room, an old woman spits on the earth below her feet. "Damn kid did it to himself. Always knew he'd get hauled in one of these days. Probably thinks we're gonna stage a rescue, too, poor bastard."

"Are we?" The question comes from the far corner where a massive, heavily-muscled man stands with arms crossed, a curved sword sheathed at his waist.

The old woman scoffs. "One day back in town, and you're itching for another war to fight. Bah. We don't have half the men we'd need, Casper knows Dalton's one of ours. 's a trap, if I've ever smelled one." She hitches up the saber that sways at her belt, adjusts her coat. "Bloody idiot jackdaw like him, I can write off. Not keen to lose a son today, as well, Ulysses."

"So touching that your gnarled heart still beats for me, mother. But we'll have to do something, eventually. Things will only get worse from here."

"Yeah, don't think I don't know it. We'll need every hand we can get. You're fixing for a fight, right, Tans?" She addresses the fourth member of their gathering, a large and broad woman who sits cross-legged atop Marl's desk nearby, disturbing various alchemy recipes with her presence, looking bored.

Before she can respond, however, the young man, Horace, rises from the bed, wiping at tears. "I'm real sorry, Lady M., but I just can't hear this. Not right now. I'll go check on Uncle Isty." With a nod from Marl, he excuses himself up the hatch to the main floor of the house.

[Gallagher]

Horace's interruption phased Tanya little more than a distasteful curl of her lips. "Say the word," she tells Marl, uncrossing her legs just to cross them the other way around. "My blade's yours. Or would be, if I had one."

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Ulysses rolls his shoulders, neck stretching to one side, then the other. He looks his mother in the eye.

"While I respect your desire for caution, I've little patience for hiding in this noxious cellar." He coughs for effect. "I've a mind to ride Sicarius over to the gallows to look Casper in the eye." His gaze turns toward Tanya. "Care to stretch your legs?"



Ulysses: Diplomacy 1d20 +3 = 6

[Gallagher]

Tanya: Sense Motive 1d20 + 2 = 13



The mere mention of Sicarius made Tanya stiffen and cross her arms. "Ha! Not if you're taking that damn monster of yours along."

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Crossing his arms and chewing his beard for a moment, Ulysses nods. "Sic would make a stronger statement, but perhaps too strong now that I think of it. I don't mean to start a bloodbath. You'll come, then, if I leave him trammeled?" He neglects to question her aversion to his warhorse. If anything, she's sane to fear the man-eating beast.

Ulysses: Diplomacy 1d20 +3 = 19

[Gallagher]

Tanya: Sense Motive 1d20 + 2 = 8



Tanya eyed the man for a moment, her attention lingering longer on his finely toned abdomen than the rest of him. "Alright," she said at length and pushed herself off of the desk, "but if that thing looks me in the eye, all bets are off."

[Quiet Man Cometh]

Pulling himself from his work, Felix decides to walk from his house to the town square. He didn't care to spectate, but was curious if their Mayor really cared to execute the town ingrate.

When he arrives, Dalton is no longer swinging under his own power.

Oh. They really did it.

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Checking Sicarius' tether before they depart, Ulysses leads Tanya across town, north through the market toward the gallows. Not knowing the woman from his youth before the soldier's life had taken him far from Archon, he makes idle conversation with her as they walk.

"I'm surprised anyone even came to answer my mother's call. The grand resistance we most certainly aren't. What convinced you to throw your lot in with us?"

[Gallagher]

"There's nothing I'd like more than the heads of Casper and that dog Hadrian. I figure I can do more with the like-minded than on my own. Simple as that, really."

[Suzerain of Sheol]

"Hmmm..." The sound rumbles deep in Ulysses' chest as he ponders. "In the army, we'd string men like him up in trees, and take turns practicing our aim with stones. They'd take a week to die, sometimes." He looks back at Tanya, still impressed to find the woman's eyes nearly level with his own. If it does come to fighting, here's one he'll be glad to have at his side. More so than Horace, at any rate. "I'd say a quick death is too good for his kind, if half of what I've heard since coming back is true."

[Gallagher]

"Ah, but how fine would that be, to string the two up by their backsides, strip them of the burden of their pitiful excuses for cocks, and bludgeon what remains." The thought of it made Tanya grin. "I wouldn't mind watching the likes of Alanna toy with them afterwards, either."

[Suzerain of Sheol]

"I don't think you'll be getting the chance quite yet..." Ulysses' voice falls as they draw near to the execution site, his gaze catching half a dozen guards in full armor flanking the sizable crowd.

Even from their current distance, he can see the body swaying on the noose, his height affording him a clear vantage over the assembled townsfolk. He never met the boy, Dalton, had heard he was trouble -- impulsive and loud-mouthed, and the sight of him dead stirred no great emotion in the soldier's breast.

The words being spoke, however, by the small, domineering man before the gallows who could only be Sheriff Hadrian, are another matter.

"I want to thank you all for coming here, for this is a face you need to see." He gestures a plate-armored hand at Dalton. "That is the face of resistance, of defiance, of refusal. You have such small and frightful lives, surely you'll now realize that it simply isn't worth it to throw them away like this wretched fool. Obey our laws, accede to our demands, and you'll find life in Archon far more comfortable, I assure you."

Ulysses' stare is fixed upon the man. This is their enemy, of that there is no doubt, and delay will only give him the chance to strike them first. Whatever else Dalton was, stoic in the face of torture he most certainly was not. They'll be coming for Mother next.

Just let them try.

Ulysses: Listen 1d20 + 1 = 6 vs. DC 10.

[Gallagher]

Tanya: Listen 1d20 + 2 = 18 vs. DC 10



As Hadrian spoke words the village had heard many times over, in one form or another — though the addition of a corpse did make quite the impact on the gathered crowd — it was the whispers between the group in front of them that caught Tanya's ear. "— there by sundown, we're going to start with a dance while Jeorgina cooks up a delicious boar. Oh, and bring some of that pepper from Calgea you've been selling, Casper loves it in his stew."

Amia, a deceptively fragile looking girl with what Tanya thought of as a domineering streak all her own, was speaking to her parents. One of her little 'friends' was hovering nearby. Tanya glanced to Ulysses, but it seemed the man had been too intent on Hadrian's tired lines to notice the conversation.

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Ulysses: Knowledge (Local) 1d20 + 0 = 5

As the Sheriff's words sink into the crowd, Ulysses scans the various unfamiliar faces to gauge their reactions. The only souls familiar to him are Lord Verigilius and his household.

The family immediately ahead is chattering amongst themselves seemingly indifferent to the spectacles of the dead young man swaying in the wind nearby. They must be sympathizers of Casper and his ilk, at the very least.

Further ahead, there is a dour-looking old woman seemingly thoroughly immiserated by the whole affair, or perhaps merely by association to the young man beside her who he takes for her grandson -- a disgraceful churl of a young man looking to be wearing some fisher's net stolen from the local market. The lad seems torn between idolizes the grisly scene and becoming sickened by it. Ulysses doubts they will find any great ally in the pair.

But off to the left, some distance away from the crowd, is a man he has never seen before, a look of consternation and worry crossing his features. That may be one worth pursuing, if they get the chance, as much as a single man could really make a difference to their cause at this point.

[Quiet Man Cometh]

Felix: listen 1d20 +2 = 8

Felix pays little attention to the murmuring around him. His arms crossed, he taps the fingers of one hand on his other elbow, contemplating the corpse. He's only been in the small village for a few years, but he's already accustomed to the curious mix of people.

So, which one of us will be hanging next?

An inkling and a whisper alert Felix to someone watching him. He doesn't think too much of it, in a place with near all the town gathered. Someone is always starting at him.