(1876-04-11) What are the Chances
What are the Chances
Summary: Dacian, Dertan and Jarret investigate a rumor of undead near Mathis. DCS. Bounty #6.
Date: 22nd April 2020
Related: Bounty
NPCs: None
Players:
Dacian  Dertan  Jarret  

Room Name
Room description
IC date of RP
dembones.jfif

There are advantages to being a Duke or a Brigadier and for each of the group the journey up to the Mathis region involved a pleasant trip by dirgible (unless of course you get airsick) followed by a guided ride to a little village in the middle of nowhere. The mayor and his wife have pulled out all the stops to host their guests and provided a pair of hunters who swear blind they saw walking dead man for information.

Dertan is already here when the other two arrive, probably to nobodies surprise, staring at a map with a dour look on his face. He glances up as each arrives "Your Grace." He offers to his cousin. "Brigadier." The map gets placed onto the table besides a pitcher of wine that Dertan has not yet touched. "It would be challenging to find a city with these maps."


Dacian moves for the wine. Why not? He was at Mathis, and he knows the Galenthian countryside well, so he's spent the dirigible flight half-gazing out at the land and half making idle conversation with Jarret off and on. He's not especially chatty, but he's pleasant enough, and now, with a glass of liquor in his hand, he takes a quick sip of it. "Easy enough to make sense of it once we're out there, I figure, or actually talking to our information source." He eyes that pair of hunters, sizing them up.


Why does he feel like he's been in his armor far too much, lately? Jarret looks around as they arrive, expression a bit distant for a few moments, as if his thoughts have wandered back in time. He's not the most chatty of persons either, but conversation is better than being alone in your own mind. He's unable to hold back a bit of a chuckle at Dertan's words about the map. "Ah, you know you enjoy challenges," he replies, a bit lightly.


"My fingers are twitching towards fixing it." Dertan scowls at the map even as he confesses the desire to Jarret. His head comes back up as he gives both Dacian and Jarret an assessing look. "What are the odds that our undead foes are in fact men half-drowned in chalk?" The hunters can absolutely hear what he just said. He doesn't seem to care.


Dacian grins at Dertan's words. "Unlikely, but at least slightly plausible." He moves to pour two more glasses of wine, having been the only one to touch the decanter so far, and then takes a sip. "I can talk to them and see what information we can get out of them," he offers, his words turning slightly crisp, as if to imply he can get the information by a naturally commanding air alone. From the self-possession with which he speaks, it's not entirely out of the question, at least.


Jarret chuckles. "I would say the odds are good, but then again, with our luck at this, they might actually be undead. I mean, these days, you can never be sure, right?" He chuckles again at Dacian's words, nodding a little.


"We might as well just have them show us." Dertan says to Dacian. "Unless this is some elaborate ruse to draw us into an ambush I do not imagine there is much we three can not handle." For a moment he rests a hand lightly on the curve of the bow in his hip quiver. "And I for one am eager to get back to paved streets and properly situated latrines."


Dacian holds up his hands a little at Dertan's suggestion. "That sounds like a plan." And he's the first to walk over to the hunters, offering them a polite smile, some words, and perhaps even a bit of a bribe. It's short work, and he nods at the other two men from where he stands, "They've agreed to take us out, but they'll give us directions for the last few hundred feet rather than accompany us. You can't blame them." And he moves to finish his drink. "Let's."


"Properly situated latrines? You mean you don't enjoy this… simplicity?" Jarret remarks to Dertan, a bit lightly. He smiles, moving to take one of those poured glasses, drinking the wine relatively quickly. "Ready whenever you two are," he replies, expression turning a bit serious as he checks his weapon for a few moments, rather quickly.


Dertan looks over to the hunters with a fairly typical disdain. Measuring them much as he measured Dacian and Jarret a few moments ago. His expression suggesting that yes, yes you can blame them. "They can explain what makes them say they are left overs from Mathis on the way." He frowns at Jarret. "It is a strange thing Jarret but losing a portion of my leg has given me a new found appreciation for horse and carriage." He starts for the door, pausing on the threshold with an impatient air whilst the other two chug their drinks, and leaving the management of the hunters entirely to Dacian. As they catch up he asks. "What do you intend to do if the rumours are true?"


Dacian raises both brows at Dertan's words, gazing towards the hunters. He then laughs a little bit at the 'strange thing,' beneath his breath, but then adds to them, "If they are undead, we ensure they become only one syllable of that." He too is going through his weaponry, checking the powder in his handcannon as well as ensuring his bastard sword is properly placed. "If three trained fighters can't set this to rights, I don't know who exactly can, hm?" And he beckons with his chin to the hunters, before adding to Jarret, "There's a value in simplicity, but shitting in a hole in the ground lacks a certain appeal."


Jarret chuckles as he listens, nodding a little as he moves with the others, expression a bit thoughtful as he walks. "Don't get me started on the list of things that lack a certain appeal," he replies to Dacian, shaking his head a little bit, before he nods again.


One long walk later during which Dertan doesn't utter a single complaint, nor say much of anything, and the group reach the previously mentioned spot deep in a mostly untouched area of woodland. A moment after they have stopped and Dertan promptly finds himself a seat on a fallen tree. As the hunters go to leave Dertan he says a simple "Thank you." to them before looking to the other men. "How are you at scouting and stealth Brigadier Dacian? I only know of you as a knight. I have no idea of your specific skillset, beyond the use of horse, lance, and sword, nor how deep your knightly honor actually runs. Given the choice I would prefer that they never see us and never get close enough to strike a blow."


"That wine, for one. But they tried," Dacian deadpans to Jarret as they set off. Arriving in the midst of the woods, he offers a raise of his shoulders to Dertan. "Capable but unspectacular." He raises his brows at Jarret, a mute 'How about you?' for the blond man, and then he scrubs a hand through his hair, offering Dertan a rueful grin. "My honor runs deep enough, but until a short while ago I was little more than a hedge knight, so if you're expecting me to use the rank of my new station, you might find yourself at a bit of an impasse. Fortunately, I don't think that's called for here." But, in preparation for being called on to scout, he's starting to loosen some of his buckles to keep the clanking to a minimum.


Jarret shrugs a little, focused on the task at hand. "Ah, you know my stealth, it's like… a pony in a class store, right…" he remarks, shaking his head a little bit. He nods to the other two now, listeining carefully.


"In that case." Dertan pushes back up to his feet. "Let us all split up and see what we can discover before meeting back here in.." his gaze tips towards the sun. "An hour. Then, if all goes as I anticipate it will, we will set up an ambush them and put an end to this nonsense." He straightens his quiver, turns his thumb rings all the way around, and then starts to climb a particularly tall tree. "Jarret." he says as he reaches the first branch of any note." You take the north. Dacian. Take the south."


Dacian, having arranged his weapons a bit less clankily, sets off towards the south without cause for complaint, returning within the hour as directed. He's none the worse for wear, and he remarks, "I saw ten figures. Still moving despite seeming very… unwell." He grimaces at that, taking a swig from his canteen to moisten his lips; the sight of what he saw seems to have caused him to become a bit dry-voiced. "If they're as dull-witted as they seem to be, we likely can pull the rug out from under them, so to speak."


Now and then, Jarret actually manages to move in quiet. As he returns, he nods as he hears Dacian's report. "That's what I saw as well," he replies, before he offers a brief grin to Dacian. "Don't count of them being as dull-witted all the time, just in case," he offers rather quietly. "So, what's the plan?"


Dertan is the last back and likewise unmarred except for a leaf thats managed to get itself lodged in his extremely curly hair. "I also saw ten." he adds to the meeting. "All of them armed with melee weapon and shield except for one and that was only because his arm appears to have fallen off." He tugs a wineskin out of the gear he brought along with him and wets his mouth before continuing. "Dacian is correct. An ambush should be easy. We will have to be careful when choosing our shots. I doubt a wound that would cause a man to bleed out will do more than slow them down." He looks between them for a moment. "I suggest we make a barricade out of a fallen tree i spotted and some brush and we position ourselves behind that. If you focus on holding one end of the barrier each then I will be able to use my bow unencumbered." Again he looks to them both. "Agreed?"


"Agreed. Mostly." Dacian reaches for his handcannon, drawing it in indication. "I can shoot a couple rounds if you can maintain the barrier in my stead for the interim, your Lordship," he points out to Dertan, before looking back to Jarret and nodding seriously. "Warning heard, and heeded."


Jarret grins momentarily as he hears that, nodding as he hears what's said. "You people and your ranged weapons," he remarks, shrugging a little bit. "Let's get it done, then…"


"I see no reason to get blood on my boots Jarret." Dertan tells Jarret with a hint of a smile before giving Dacian a rather serious nod and showing the pair the way to the spot he suggested. He climbs up onto the log with a grunt of effort and then crouches down with the short recurve kaedon bow loosely held in his hand. He plucks three arrows out of the quiver and spends the time that the other two need to settle in examining them. "Ready?" he asks, waiting just long enough for some sort of agreement before pulling the string back to his cheek and loosing the first shot. The arrow smashes straight through one of the creatures foreheads and the entire group swivel to look in our direction before starting their shamble. Only its not really a shamble. They move with a surprising speed and agility considering their sorry states. Dertan puts an arrow into another one just before the group reaches handgun range but the arrow merely lodges in the creatures chest without stopping. The archer gives a little mutter, gathering new arrows as the first roar of the handcannon sounds, before putting the next two arrows solidly into zombie foreheads.


Dacian keeps hold of his side of the barricade. He can wield the handcannon mostly one-handed, and what he can't do one-handed results in him hooking an arm against the barricade to prop it upright as he concentrates on shooting straight into the horde of undead. There's no hiding or cloaking the roar of this weapon, so it's almost good, in a way, that the creatures have already spotted them. He manages to take out two of the three shambling towards them, falling back for a second to reload with more powder and shot, ducking beneath the barricade to do so.


"Ah, Dertan, you're getting dull in your old age," Jarret remarks a bit lightly moving to help hold the barricade. He keeps silent as he does so, muttering something to himself under his breath.


The last of the group reaches the log and most of them get bunched up around the edges as they attempt to gnaw and murder the Romante and Sokar knights. Dertan is just drawing another arrow clear as one of the creatures raws a hollow roar and leaps clean over the log. It lands heavily, slipping in the muck, and Dertan nearly falls over as he scrambles to make space and get his sword clear of its scabbard. A single dance like step and Dertan has thrust his sword right through the creatures shoulder and is just about to pull it clear when the monster swings its shield up and shoves Dertan right off his feet. Luckily the hilt of that sword gets tangled into the straps of the shield causing the undead man to blunder and fumble in an effort to get itself clear. And as it flails Dertan slips out of range and pulls his dagger out. "I could use a hand here."


Dacian moves for his sword, dropping his handcannon neatly back into its holster. With the creatures advancing on him, he moves to slice and dice with this sword, his blade swift and true. The last advancing creature has the unfortunate distinction of, rather than being shot to death, being summarily beheaded at close range, with a thwack of steel into bone and a miasma of undead gore flying out from the creature's now neatly bisected neck. Dacian grimaces at the sight, turning back towards Dertan. "On it. Your Grace!" he calls over to Jarret, a signal that he too should attack Dertan's enemy if he's finished with his own. Sword in hand, he starts to close in.


Growling a little as the creatures comes for them, Jarret moves forward with the poleaxe ready. His first attack is with the spike at the end, stabbing through the creature relatively easy. After that, the axehead hits the next one enough to send its head flying. He lets out a bit of a breath as he glances around before focusing back on what's at hand.


Dertan takes the opportunity presented by the undead mans predicament to gain some distance between himself and the very rusty longsword that the once-man is flailing around.


Dacian closes the gap, teeth bared slightly as he moves with sword in hand. He doesn't hesitate, giving Dertan some room to distance himself. Placing his spare hand on the pommel of the sword, he moves to drive it up and in, going for a single, brutal blow to destroy the undead creature, unhesitating as he closes in. The blade hits home, and he pushes it just a little further to ensure the undead fellow is indeed going to be very, very truly dead, before wrenching his sword up and out to eviscerate the thing as much as he can. Breathing a bit hard, he declares to Dertan a bit darkly, "I've got no problem with blood on /my/ boots."


Once more, the spike on the poleaxe is used, smashing through the head of the creature. Jarret lets out another breath as he looks around, leaning against his weapon as he sees things seem to have been cleared. When he overhears the comment from Dacian, he's unable to hold back a bit of a laugh.


Dertan casts a dirty look at Jarret before going over to yank his slender lightsilver blade back out of the massacred undead mans shoulder. "I think." he says. Entirely deadpan. "This has more to do with your sword being bigger than mine."


Dacian grins at Dertan. "What, you expect me to deny it?" Practical in combat, he moves to wipe off his sword against some nearby shrubbery, before sliding it — mostly clean — back into its scabbard. "So where do we go from here, your Lordship? Search for any prized possessions among the… doubly dead?"


"What?" Jarret replies to Dertan, before he shakes his head a little. He looks for something to clean off his own weapon with, then looks around once more.


"Go ahead." Dertan says to Dacian. "We will wait for you."

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