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| Details |
| Author: | inkie |
| Summary: | White and Blue squads discover that they have been assigned to the same caravan into the mysterious land of Uldum, for different reasons. Then they all end up in a cage together so their plans kind of overlap for a while. Deathwing drops by to welcome them. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Brannagen paces up and down, inspecting the caravan and riders. The wind is hot and full of sand, and is doing his hair and beard no favors.
Auralind has taken shelter in the shadow of a boulder, shielding herself from the sun's glaring heat and at least some of the harsh wind.
Brannagen keeps glancing toward the massive breach in the rock and the massive statues that seem to guard it. He's fidgety to the point of madness as he waits. Finally he goes to settle next to Auralind with a huge sigh.
"I can hear your agitation, Prospector," Auralind observes.
"Hoew's it hangin' there, Sentinel? Been a minute, aye?" He shakes some sand out of his beard, since he's currently out of the wind.
Auralind arches an eyebrow. "Quite a bit more than a minute."
"Ach, ta yer lot everytheng feels like a minute," Bran teases.
Auralind gives Brannagan an amused smirk. "I am pleased that you are here. I suspect we will need someone with a keen eye for historical mysteries."
"O' course ye will!" Bran agrees cheerfully, pulling out his sketchbook and squinting at what he can see of the massive statues in the passageway.
Atley marches up to the group as a vaguely bird shaped creature hovers high above them, taking long lazy circles. Atley squints in the sunlight and brings a waterskin to his lips.
Auralind lifts her face, her left ear flicking. "Dane." A subtle smile forms on her lips.
Atley doubletakes Auralind. "…Hullo there. Has there been a last minute substitution?"
"Addition, nae substitution," says Bran.
Atley hesitates before he takes another swig. "I'd been told my folk were Azizia, the Aspenwoods, and SIlvestre."
This time both of Auralind's brows lift. "I assumed you were here to join us."
Bran makes a few sweeping lines on his sketchbook, eyes fixed on the statues. "I'm not in a squad, still largely wi' the Explorer's League, but Ben wrote me abou' the revelation an' I couldna resist the chance ta be part o' the discovery."
Atley slowly shakes his head. "The two of you are well met but we were hired by the King by the keep this caravan upright." He gestures behind him with the waterskin.
Ben approaches the group by the rocks, and slows as he does so, knitting his brow.
"Well you do yer keng thengs," Bran says. "We willna get in yer way." Bran gives Ben an enthusiastic wave!
"Mr. Atley, sir. Am I — who's goin' on this expedition, then?" Ben looks first to Auralind, who cannot see him, and then smiles at Bran.
"Ben. Perhaps you can explain the confusion?" Auralind nods to Ben… almost like she saw him (no, she didn't).
Atley scoffs with amusement and looks between them as Ben arrives. He raises a hand in the sweltering heat. "Seems we've been double booked. I await the Aspenwoods, Sil, and Azizia."
"I thought Doctor Jones said — oh. Double — oh." Ben raises his eyebrows.
"I'm with you, young Hazan. I'll try not ta be too much of a pest." Bran winks.
"Blue Squad's been contracted by the king to make sure this caravan enjoys safe passage." Atley gestures behind him at the assembled travelers again.
"Wait, remind me about this Doctor Jones? Do I know 'im?" Bran taps his pen against his lower lip, with the predictable unfortunate results.
"He is an archaeologist," Auralind explains. "I believe he works primarily with the Stormwind Royal Library."
"Right, so — Doctor Jones asked us to come along and… I think we are doin' a research paper or somethin'?" Ben looks a little helplessly at Bran. "I never done no research assistance before."
"And you say you got… guard duty, sir?" Ben looks a little enviously at Dane.
Atley grunts and nods. "It'll be good to have the lot of us together. No safer Alliance caravan in all of Kalimdor."
"Wait, ye mean young Harry? He's a doctor??" Bran scratches his beard.
"I don't know about young Harry, Mr. Stillwall. He is… uh. I mean he is older'n me," says young Hazan.
Bran chuckles. "I reckon it's the same fella. Harrison Jones, aye?"
"Yessir, that's the one." Ben nods.
"Courageous young man… ef a bit on the chaotic side," says Bran, who's not really one to talk.
Atley grunts and looks to Thaeru'kal, inclining his head. "You're quite a sight in this blinding desert heat."
Ben tugs at the neck of his tabard and looks around, squinting. "Bright as hell out here."
"I dinna imagine the Sentinel's cat feels the heat," Bran observes, "Or much at all."
Atley shakes his head. "I mean to say Thaeru looks bright out here."
Ben looks to the ghostly cat as well. He squints harder.
Thaeru'kal bobs her head in Atley's direction.
Auralind bobs hers as well. "Thaeru'kal is a spirit. She does not experience the same physical discomforts we do."
"Are you expecting any others?" Atley asks of Ben.
Ben looks envious of the cat. He glances up at Atley. "It was… me, Auralind, an' Alysson. An' then I asked Bran here because — uh, research. Research paper?"
Bran nods excitedly.
Atley grunts. "He's the man for it. We've been working together with a Professor Aitne, engaging in journeyman archaeology."
"Red here's quite the apt student!" Bran says, beaming a smile toward Atley.
"Feel like I got into college accidentally," says Ben. He sounds pretty glum about it.
Atley grunts and inclines his head, turning on Auralind. "I warrant the Sentinel's coming along to deal with any hostilities," he remarks with a fond growl.
"Naturally," Auralind says to Atley. Then, to everyone, "It seems destiny has brought all of us together," Auralind muses. "No doubt for a purpose. We should be prepared to face a challenge worthy of our combined strength."
"Are ye nae somethin' of an author yerself, young Hazan?" Bran inquires, peering up at him, his turquoise eyes squinted almost closed against the garish sun.
Ben shifts awkwardly, his ears red. "I mean, I wrote a book. I am workin' on another. But — uh. It ain't a college kind of book."
"Whatcha workin' on now?" Bran lights up with curiosity.
Atley grunts and sweeps his gaze to the south, nodding with a set jaw. He lowers his voice. "Noticed a few greenskins here making up the caravan. Troll, too."
"Don't you start any trouble with 'em, Red. Casue ye know they'll give it back tenfold." Bran chuckles.
"And I can receive the worst they have to offer," Atley reminds Brannagen crisply. "I'll play nice, so long as they mind themselves."
"So, uh, you recall my other one was about Light's Hope an' how it all went down an' kind of… talkin' about the common fellows versus how the leaders an' all…?" Ben trails off.
Bran nods at Ben, turning his attention back to the book talk. "Aye, 'twas a fine piece o' reportin', lad," he says sincerely.
Ben shifts uncomfortably. "So I am kind of writin' about the Northrend campaign, an' how a lot of the leaders we run into f*cked that up, an' the common fellows… I mean. You get it."
Atley shifts his gaze to Ben and admires him for a moment.
"Well let me know when it's done, won't ye?" Bran smiles. "I'll want a signed copy."
Ben's ears turn redder. He nods at Bran. "Yessir."
"Me as well, Ben," Atley says. "Those tomes are not often written."
"Yessir," says Ben. "I do not reckon it is gonna make me real popular with the regular military none. But someone has got to say it, I figure."
"I can even trade ye fer my book o' sketches I put together from up there," Bran offers.
Ben turns wide eyes on Bran. "Oh, hell yes, sir. I remember you doin' them. Good sh– stuff."
"I'm relying upon both of you to record all of this. Memory fails in time, written words last longer," Atley growls.
"Red here was always real nice about lettin' me stop ta sketch thengs," Bran says, jerking a thumb toward Atley.
Atley scoffs with amusement at 'nice,' before he looks from Auralind to Ben in silent agreement.
"You are bold, Ben," Auralind comments. "But be cautious. Sowing distrust in the leadership can have severe consequences if it spreads too far."
Ben nods gravely to Auralind. She cannot see it.
Bran returns to his latest sketch, leaning at an awkward angle around Auralind to get the best view.
"You may have some protections, wot' with Admiral Fallon's recent promotion." Atley says to Ben. "That is, protection from Alliance high command."
Ben shifts awkwardly. "Uh. Well. He is friends with Sir Elo, yeah. I am… maybe not his favorite fellow? Personally? But — " Ben shrugs.
Atley turns his head to the side and squints dubiously. "He seemed fond of you at one of the galas in the past year or two."
Ben nods, no less awkward. "Yessir."
"Good afternoon, everyone," Colson says, as he gets close enough for polite conversation range.
"Good afternoon, everyone," Cressidha says along with her brother.
"Look who's here, Blue Squad." Atley gestures vaguely at White Squad.
"Ho there Cobalts!" Alysson greets, joining the group.
Ben turns to the Aspenwoods. "Hey, y'all."
Sil ambles up to the team and waves happily. "Ben! I didn't hear you were gonna be here. And… Auralind and Bran and… Alysson? Wow, bigger group than I thought."
Azizia joins the group. "Hello, Blue Squad, White Squad." Her hair has grown back to almost its previous length, her curls falling short of hitting her shoulders. "Ready to go caravaning, now."
Ben grins at Sil. "Uh, we did not know you were gonna be here, so fair play."
"They're on a separate research assignment. Our orders are to maintain the safety and security of the caravan. I warrant this'll have us working together for a time." Atley explains.
"Lo there everyone!" Bran says cheerily. "Good ta see some familiar faces!"
"Understood," Colson says, inclining his head in acknowledgement that his orders are unchanged.
"Ishnu dal dieb," Auralind welcomes all the newcomers.
"Ah, so we're like… your bodyguards?" Sil laughs. "I don't think they told us they were hiring Cobalt to guard Cobalt."
"We are s'posed to be meeting a fellow on the others side," Ben says. "But we are travelin' with y'all an' these people."
"Seems there's been a double booking. No matter. These ones don't need much protection," Atley says with amusement, gesturing to White Squad. "Colson, you're lead healer, augmented by Azizia when necessary. Sil's my scout, Cressidha is artillery."
Sil nods proudly.
"I will heal to best of my ability. And punch potential threats much more harder," Azizia nods.
Auralind rises from the mild comfort of the boulder's shadow, wincing a little as the sun's rays strike the top of her head.
Atley grunts at Azizia. "I'm counting on that."
"I'm just here fer academic purposes," Bran reiterates, "but if we find ourselves in a tight spot I can toss in a heal or two." His eyes almost disappear into his smile.
"Water, anyone? I have already supplied the caravan." Cressidha begins passing out conjured water.
Bran finally tucks away his sketchbook and gets to his feet, brushing sand off his robe.
"Be mindful of a pair of greenskins and a troll in the caravan. Our orders are to protect them as well, but we are not obligated to suffer any treachery." Atley explains, lowering his voice.
Azizia stands by Cress, smiling. She also avoid making any kind of eye contact with Alysson. "I would appreciate water, please."
Alysson waves excitedly at Azizia anyway.
Cressidha moves around handing out water as usual.
Ben accepts water eagerly and immediately drinks a third of it. It's hot and he's in full armor.
"Oh that's real nice, Lady Cressidha, thank ye." Bran bows.
"Thanks, Cressidha." Ben salutes her.
"Aye. Cheers, Cress," Atley says politely. "I want each of my people sipping water regularly. Thirst will kill us here as fast as any foe."
Sil obediently takes a sip of his water, and then tucks it away in his pack for now.
Colson ties his water to his belt, nodding at Dane. "Of course."
"Yeah, water is good, thanks Cressidha," Sil flashes a smile. "And there's more of us than them, so… I guess we just jump ahead if there's alliances to be made, yeah?"
Azizia uses her hand as a fan for her hair. It almost seems like a dismissive gesture towards Alysson's wave. WHo knows?
Atley takes a sip from the water and eyes Sil. "Mm? Wot' do you mean?"
"Oh, the orcs and stuff," Sil waves vaguely. "They said something in the call about getting there ahead of the Horde for like… making alliances. Meeting people."
Bran literally (but good-naturedly) puts his hands over his ears and sings "La, la, la" as Blue Squad talks politics.
"Making alliances before Horde makes alliance first," Azizia says.
Atley grunts as he understands Sil's meaning. "Aye. Right."
"I reckon if we are all here, we can go report in?" Ben looks to the front of the caravan. "To… oh, sh*t."
Alysson eyes Ben questioningly.
Adarrah has been watching with bright-eyed attention as the group assembles. “I remember you guys!” She looks Atley and then Colson over with undisguised appreciation. “From that troll ruin in Grizzly Hills, right?”
Atley grunts.
"Ah, yes." Cressidha nods politely.
Colson inclines his head politely to Adarrah.
Adarrah turns to give Ben an up-and-down appraisal. “And hi, Ben. You were wetter the last time I saw you!” She grins.
Bran whispers to Ben, "Gonna need that story later."
Sil smiles carefully at Adarrah. How exactly do she and Ben know each other?
Ben clears his throat. "Yes'm. Uh. We are here to join the caravan? Guards an' all?"
“You’re here to escort us into Uldum? I feel safer already!” Adarrah looks toward the back of the caravan. “Hey, Budd! Don’t you feel safer already?”
Budd waves cheerfully from atop a persecuted-looking shaggy camel.
Colson glances back over his shoulder at Budd. "Ah."
Alysson waves cheerfully back at Budd. What a friendly guy.
Atley spots Azizia's waist and looks pointedly at her face as they listen.
Adarrah looks back to the group. “And I hope you feel luckier, because we’re all about to be rich beyond your wildest dreams! Uldum exposed, ancient treasures in the sands, untold wealth, all that… and we’ll be some of the first in! Well, apart from the Wastewander bandits. And the natives, whoever they are.”
"Ooh, so there's natives?" Sil asks, and then with the same enthusiasm, "And bandits? This is gonna be great."
Cressidha does not look impressed.
Atley grunts and nods. He lowers his voice as they move and walks over to Azizia. "Tabard."
Azizia sighs. "Even in 1000° weather…"
Auralind mutters away from Adarrah. "So… they are treasure hunters."
Adarrah claps her hands, apparently signaling for everyone’s attention. “If you’re ready to go, grab a ride and we’ll be off!”
Bran eyes a camel curiously, then hauls himself with surprising grace into the saddle.
Auralind mounts the camel… but looks a bit uncertain about it.
Cressidha climbs up onto the back of the caravan and settles in for a ride.
AMBUSH!
As the effects of the pygmy sleeping-darts wear off, and the prisoners stir…
Atley growls and yanks a blow dart out from his throat. He examines it. "Cheeky."
Ben sits up groggily and shakes his head.
Sil sits up. "Well, that didn't work out as expected."
“Gross,” mutters Adarrah. “This cage smells like too many people.”
Azizia is holding the bars of her cage and shaking them violently. The dart doesn't seem to make her groggy afterwards.
"I guess those were the natives, huh?" Sil asks everyone in general. "Not really friendly."
"No," Atley agrees with Sil. "See that Colson's awake to give us a cleanse. That was poison."
Colson wakes with a hard blink, automatically calling a [Cleanse] over himself, and then as many others as he can see from his cage. "Is everyone as well as they can be, given what seems to the circumstance?"
Bran begins taking notes as soon as he is fully conscious.
Adarrah looks her cage-mates over. "Can I get a little room in here? Kind of claustrophobic."
Ben gets to his feet and scowls at Adarrah. "Kind of the least of our problems." He peers through the cage bars.
"What were those little guys?" Alysson asks, looking around trying to catch sight of them.
"Nearly had the look of troggs." Atley growls. He sets a hand on Azizia's shoulder to try and calm her. "Easy."
Bran is thoroughly occupied in sketching anything he can see through the bars.
Cressidha sits close to the back of the cage, arms around her knees.
"If we can get out of this cage, maybe we can find out," Sil says, making his way over to the entrance and trying to get a look at the lock.
Azizia slams her fist into the cage. "Open this now, ugly little men!" Azizia shouts.
With the poisoned [Cleansed], and no immediate injuries that Colson can see, he rises to a stand, moving to take up less room in the crowded cage.
Ice coats the backs of Cressidha's hands and proceeds up the arms of her Shadowcloth robe. Her face looks very neutral, but her hands are clenched into tight fists.
"Settle, Azizia… We'll be getting out of here soon enough." Atley attempts the herculean task of weaving his way through the cage to check on Cress, to see if she wants room or just reassurance.
Ben peers around them. "I don't see those little fellows no more. I see, uh." He squints.
"Some kind of city…" Sil muses. He looks back at the Aspenwoods. "We'll get out, don't worry. Just a matter of time."
Colson's expression is neutral, but his calm seems genuine. He nods to Silvestre, as he keeps his position near Cressidha.
Atley takes a knee next to Cress and grunts at Ben. "Aye. Wot's all that, then. A centaur? Looks easy enough to kill."
Adarrah, meanwhile, turns to kneel by the door, shouldering Sil out of the way. She fiddles with the lock. After a moment, it clicks open.
“Crud,” says Adarrah. “That was my last hairpin.” She drops a broken twist of wire into the sand, eases the cage door wide, and slips out.
Colson offers Cressidha a hand as the door to the cage opens.
Cressidha takes her brother's hand and rises to her feet, moving out of the cage.
Thaeru'kal, having vanished during the capture, rematerializes as Auralind steps out of the cage.
The group files out after Adarrah, and immediately attract the attention of a strange creature nearby, an armored… cat-centaur-person? It charges at them furiously, weapon upraised, and they are obliged to kill it.
"Centaur!" Alysson repeats excitedly.
Bran is uncharacteristically silent — possibly overwhelmed.
Sil looks down at the dead creature. "Cat-taur?"
Ben stares down at the peculiar corpse. "I dunno. What the hell?"
"First there's dragontaur, now there's cattaur!" Alysson grins.
Atley tries to discreetly clasp Cressidha on the shoulder and give her a tiny shake after they're freed. He looks from Adarrah to Prince Nadun. "Another prisoner. Potential ally."
Azizia finally notices Cress. "Is anything wrong?" she whispers to her.
"Yes," Cressidha says to Azizia. "I am very angry."
Sil nods, anger makes sense, yep.
"You know me too, always," Azizia nods. "I will be angry with you." She smiles at her.
The imprisoned… tiger-person chained to the wall near the cages calls out in a rough whisper. “You! Strangers!”
Ben peers at him.
Atley side-eyes Ben as he walks up to Prince Nadun. "…Hail."
"Ah," Colson says, as the tiger person greets them. "Hail."
The strange prisoner watches them warily from slit-pupiled eyes. “You must help me, please. I am Prince Nadun, of the Ramkahen tribe of the tol’vir. I came here to investigate rumors of a powerful new ally to the tribe of this place, the Neferset, but I was betrayed and captured.”
Bran scribbles furiously. "Ram…ka… hen…. tol…. vir…."
"A prince!" Alysson's day is only getting better.
Atley grunts. "Seems we have a common enemy, your highness." He bows.
Ben repeats ramekin and tolfeer under his breath.
As Colson looks around them again, he murmurs a blessing. It seems like a good time for a Blessing of the Light.
"Ne… fer… set…" Bran keeps writing.
“I too wish to escape this place,” the Prince tells them. “But first, I must know what I came here to discover. I understand that I ask you to risk yourselves, but it seems we share an enemy. Help me and you may help your own cause as well.
“We can make our escape together, and I can guide you to safety through the desert from here. My brother, King Phaoris, will honor you.”
Ben glances to Atley, head tilted, and nods once.
Colson looks to Ben for a decision, and then to Dane.
Atley glances between his squad. "Very well. Put us to work." He nods at Ben.
Cressidha turns and watches movement in the distance — another guard.
"I canna speak fer the rest," says Bran, "but I came just ta see what's here, an' learn about it."
"Is there a princess? Are we gonna marry her?" Alysson asks.
"Good alliance to make, maybe," Sil murmurs.
"No," Azizia answers Alysson.
Nadun blinks at Alysson. "There is — no."
"No, Alysson," Auralind says sternly.
"Aw." Alysson scuffs a foot on the stone.
The Prince clears his throat. “If one or two of you can reach the terrace above us to the east and remain concealed there, you should be in position to witness a meeting between the Neferset and this new ally of theirs.Report back to us with what you learn. Hurry, friends!”
Atley looks to Sil. "You're up. Watch your '!@#$ in this place."
Alysson raises his hand. "Me too, me too!"
"Got it, sir," Sil says seriously. "I'll…" he blinks at Alysson. "We'll keep out of sight."
Ben eyes Alysson. He glances to Sil and then back to Alysson. "Okay," he says. "Follow Sil's lead, yeah?"
Alysson grins at Sil.
"I can [Cleanse] poison up to only 40 yards. If you believe you may be struck again, make sure you are in range," Colson cautions.
"I'll keep careful of the distance," Sil nods. "Come on Alysson, let's work our way around."
"The rest of us will try not to get notice here until y'all get back. Go quick an' quiet." Ben nods at them both.
Cressidha moves to examine the prince's chains.
Sil leads the way by foot, because clearly we don't have gryphons, to the appointed place.
Sil scales up the side of a building and hides behind a convenient plant, just in time to see a meeting between the Neferset and a giant wind creature.
"I am Cressidha, of House Aspenwood," Cressidha introduces herself to the prince. "We are Cobalt Company. We shall see you to safety with the information you seek, if we can."
Nadun bows to Cressidha, as much as his shackles will allow.
Cressidha bows in return.
Azizia silently judges the prince. Her eyes betray her judgment, though. 'Barely clothed with leather bracelets' is not in fashion right now.
Atley awaits the scouts, glaring out over the city.
Bran is shamelessly sketching the prince.
Colson is keeping his eyes on Sil and Alysson, watching carefully.
Sil raises his eyebrows at Alysson, and turns to return to the group.
Sil slips out of the shadows back by Prince Nadun. "They've got a new ally alright. Wind guy de-cursing them, like the mechagnome guy."
"They were tigertaurs and then they got turned into rocktaurs!" Alysson agrees.
"They're called tol'vir," Bran says, but with a tone that suggests he knows his efforts at precision will be futile.
"Decursing them as the mechnagnomes? Do you mean to say the 'Curse of the Flesh'?" Colson asks.
Atley spins around and peers at Sil.
Sil nods at Alysson and Colson. "He even said it, removing the Curse of Flesh, yeah."
"Rocktaurs?" Azizia raises an eyebrow. "Oh, Curse of Flesh, like human, gnomes and dwarves."
"A wind elemental," Atley asks, double-checking.
"They're working with Deathwing," Sil adds. "He mentioned the guy specifically."
"Breezey fellow, yeah," Alysson says.
Nadun’s eyes widen and his ears go back. “A djinn! One of the lords of air? And speaking for Deathwing? We must escape as soon as possible! This unholy alliance bodes very ill indeed.”
Atley grunts.
"Ah," Colson says succintly, instead of cursing.
Ben curses on behalf of Colson.
Thanks, Ben. Colson appreciates you.
"Can you two do anything about these chains?" Cressidha asks Sil and Alysson.
From the cage nearby, Budd calls out cheerfully, “Hey! Friends! Hey! I got a plan!”
Ben turns to stare at Budd.
"Your Highness," Atley bids to Prince Nadun before he looks to Budd. "Wot' is it."
Budd grins at them. “Trust me, it’s a good one this time. You just gotta bring me some of that armor these cat-people wear, okay? This plan cannot fail. Trust me.”
"Tol'vir," Cressidha corrects Budd patiently.
"Fail-proof plan? I like it," Alysson says.
"If you want to dress up as a… tol'vir? I don't think you're gonna pass muster, sorry." Sil says.
Colson looks neutrally at Budd, and then to Ben for a decision.
Prince Nadun regards Budd warily. To the Cobalt members, he says, “Perhaps, ah — perhaps to supplement whatever… plan your friend is devising, you might create a distraction in the city?”
Bran looks from Sil to Alysson to Budd and just sighs, shaking his head and making a few notes that look a little bit pointier than usual.
Atley lets out a quiet sigh and eyes Ben, and then Nadun. "Wot' do you recommend, your highness?"
Ben clears his throat and looks back to Nadun. He nods. "Yessir."
Nadun looks relieved. “If you take torches from the brazier there and set… a few minor fires, that should buy us the opportunity we need.
“But there is still the minor issue of actually freeing us. In the building beside us here you should find the captain of the Neferset guards, Kavem the Callous. I promise you he lives up to his name and worse; his pleasure in others’ pain borders on the insane.
“He is the one who holds the keys to my shackles. Find him, kill him, and get the keys. You will liberate us and behead — as it were — the city guard all at once.”
"We've met people like that before," Sil nods. "Shouldn't be a problem."
Atley grunts. "We have people that can kill him — quietly."
Auralind nods grimly.
"We have fought demons feeling like this, enjoying pain. Nothing new," Azizia shrugs.
"His name… Kavem? He's cave with an' 'm?'" Alysson asks. "He's… deep?"
Bran desperately tries to sketch the buildings of the city while they are, for the moment, safe.
Ben looks around again. "Okay. That part we are gonna be discreet about, yeah? Auralind? You can handle the g–" He stares at Alysson.
Cressidha flexes her fingers and shakes off the frost.
Colson clears his throat. "I believe it is only the sounds and syllables of his name, Alysson, not signifying anything."
"Kah-vem," Bran repeats, once again with the expression that reads Why do I even bother?
"Might mean something in his language," Sil offers. "But probably not in ours."
"Let's get to work, then. This is a hostile city," Atley says.
"Oh." Alysson smiles sheepishly. He is in sheep squad after all.
"You were saying, Ben?" Auralind inquires.
"You reckon you can assassinate this Kavem fellow?"
"I can."
Ben nods to her.
Cressidha does not collect a torch from the brazier. She doesn't need one to set things on fire.
Sil does collect a torch. He needs one to set things on fire.
Atley doesn't grab a torch. He has a Cress.
"I'd like to Sil to assist," Atley says.
"Yessir." Ben looks at Sil.
Azizia does not collect a torch either. She has the elements.
Atley also has an Azizia.
Sil sets his torch back. "With the assassination? Alright. Auralind, you can wait till I get in close, and then we pounce?"
Colson collects a torch, because he is just Some Paladin Guy.
Ben takes a torch.
Alysson grabs a torch. Maybe someone should tell him to put it back.
"Agreed," Auralind says to Sil.
"We'll wait back here," Atley tells Sil.
Sil slips into the shadows and makes his way to the building.
Sil makes his way behind Kavem, and then gives Auralind a silent thumbs-up.
Auralind draws Rhok'delar. As she pulls back the vine-like string of the bow, an arrow rapidly "grows", which she looses into Kavem's throat.
Outside, the light abruptly turns an ominous shade of red, and a vortex of searing smoke and ash seems to open in the sky above.
Deathwing’s in town.
"Take cover — now!" Atley hisses.
Ben nods and springs for the nearest shelter.
Cressidha ducks into the building where Auralind and Silvestre are performing an assassination for cover.
Atley crouches low and sprints under a giant sculpture.
Atley grits his teeth and raises his eyes skyward with barely contained rage.
Atley lifts his head from cover and performs a headcount.
Sil looks at the sky nervously.
Atley works his jaw and steps out from the cover. "He knows we're here…" he mutters lowly.
Ben looks around warily. "White Squad? Sound off."
Colson regards the sky with a neutral expression, some tension releasing in his shoulders when Deathwing doesn't burn the compound — maybe because his allies are here.
"That was him, wasn't it," Sil says, his expression tight with worry. "Deathwing, just… flying by."
Atley clasps a hand on Silvestre and gives him a small shake. "Kavem dead?"
"Maybe Breathwing's mad at me for helpin' with the dragon egg," Alysson suggests.
"Yeah," Sil says with a nod. "We got him, and the key."
Ben takes a deep breath. "Okay." He nods to Sil, and to Auralind who continues not to see him. "Let's handle the rest of it. Armor, fires."
Atley nods at Ben.
"Stay focused, you lot. This city is unfriendly," Atley says..
Colson stays focused.
Bran looks around, eyes slightly dazzled. "This city is amazin'…" he murmurs softly.
"Where are little ugly men with sleepiing darts when we need them to shoot evil dragon?" Azizia asks.
"I believe the problem may be, Azizia, that the ones with the sleeping darts are in league with those working with Deathwing," Colson says.
"Ugh, of course," Azizia rolls her eyes.
"That and sleeping darts that put us out might not be enough for a Dragon Aspect," Sil adds.
Atley points at a hay bale. "Cress."
Cressidha snaps her fingers and immolates the bale of hay.
Bran sketches furiously, tossing off a heal or two now and then with one hand.
The flames quickly catch on a cloth overhang and begin to spread.
"Chickens!" Alysson cries excitedly.
Azizia frees the chicken.
Chicken pandemonium ensues, as is their natural course.
Sil chuckles, "Now that'll be a distraction."
Bran shakes his head, looking around. "Ta think… this has been here, all this time…"
"Yeah, just out of reach," Sil smiles at Bran.
"That'll give these !@#$%^&s something to worry about." Atley growls.
Cressidha looks at a meat stand and sets that awning on fire as well.
"Giant eggs!" Alysson cries, getting distracted again.
"Stay with us, lad," Atley says to Alysson.
Ben cranes his neck to gaze up at some of the columns around them. "They got a pyramind."
"Look skyward. Some … hanging palace," Atley mutters warily.
Colson looks skyward.
"To the southeast." Atley explains, pointing. "Has the look of Dalaran, nearly."
"Is it the world destroyin' pyramind?" Alysson asks.
"No sh–" Ben gawks. "A castle on a cloud."
"Ah, I see," Colson says. "Hm."
Aura turns to the southeast, ears wide, but shakes her head.
Bran squints futilely through the swirling, dusty air.
"Maybe we can check it out, once we're out of here and got our gryphons," Sil says, craning his own neck to look.
Atley grunts at Sil.
Cressidha casually fries a nearby bug.
Atley side-eyes Cress discreetly.
Colson doesn't make any faces in particular as a locust drops out of the sky near him. Whew.
Cressidha doesn't seem to notice or care. This is not new Cressidha behavior.
Ben turns back to watch smoke billowing up from several places within the city.
"We did good job here," Azizia slaps her hands together, watching the flames from as far away as possible.
"Properly." Atley agrees.
"Silvestre, you have the keys?" Cressidha up-nods towards the prince.
"I do," Sil says, holding them up. "Let's get the Prince here free."
Nadun’s eyes light with urgent hope. “Yes! Good! Everything is ready. Your, ah –” He looks to Budd, who is beaming proudly from within his cage. “Your friend has explained his… plan to me. Using the armor you have collected, he and some of his colleagues will create a diversion, while I lead you through a side gate from the city and down to the river. From there I can guide you all to Ramkahen and my brother.”
Sil moves over to Prince Nadun, nodding to him politely, and crouches to find the lock.
Atley deadpans Budd before he looks to prince Nadun. "Very well."
Sil open the lock with a clink, and the chains fall away.
Prince Nadun rubs his wrists and nods to the group. "Good. Let us be off, then."
Atley grunts.
Here is where Budd & Co. effect a very silly diversion whilst Cobalt Company escapes like a bunch of normal people would, under cover of smoke and diversion.
Bran's eyes nearly bug out of his head as they approach the palace. His sketching hand must be cramping by now. It is certainly and visibly covered with splatters of ink from his haste.
Atley glances around Ramkahen with wary awe for a moment, lips parted, head lowered suspiciously. He finally looks back to Blue Squad. "Sip water."
Atley himself produces his waterskin and drinks from it.
"Hey, there's a guy's face on the wall," Alysson points out.
Cressidha has not stopped looking for small people with tranquilizer darts at any point.
Ben gawks some more. He turns a slow circle.
"Y'all see those statues? The giant ones?" Ben points.
Colson sips at his water, as he turns to look at the statues. "Ah."
"Do they move?" Alysson asks, following Ben's pointing.
"They've got the same sensibilities as dwarves for statues, maybe," Sil says, looking at them.
Atley grunts. "They have the look of those guardians from Ahn'qiraj."
"Not to be mean, but this may be most beautiful building I have seen in Azeroth," Azizia says. "Why was this place hidden from us Draenei and not Ironforge?" She turns to Bran. "No offense."
Atley gives Azizia a short look.
"It was hidden from all of us, Azizia," Sil says. "Up till just now."
Bran looks like he might be about to explode from this deluge of new discoveries.
Cressidha sips her water silently.
"I did not have no idea this was here. I mean, I don't reckon anyone did." Ben looks at Bran.
"Except the tolfeer, I guess."
"And the little guys," Alysson says. "They knew it was here."
"Tol'vir," Cressidha says automatically.
Ben is not aware Cressidha is addressing him.
"The place is … strange." Atley concurs, glancing around. He sips more water.
"Only time I ever heard the word 'Uldum' was in old myths and legends," Bran admits.
Ben turns back to the palace entrance and straightens his tabard. "We got an audience. Y'all ready?"
Bran bounces on the balls of his feet.
"Hm," Colson says meditatively, and then nods to Ben. "Yessir."
"Aye. Smarten up, you lot. We're to meet local royalty." Atley smooths over his tabard.
Colson smartens up.
"I was born ready to meet royalty," Azizia says.
Cressidha touches the snowflake pendant that she wears and nods. "Yes."
Sil glances over to Cressidha at the gesture and smiles. "Ready."
Several of the tol'vir guards stare as the group walks by.
Ben stops uncertainly in front of the… ram-jackal-headed person.
"Hail, King Phaoris." Atley bows low.
Bran bows.
Sil bows before King Phaoris. He does not kneel, because that's apparently more serious.
Atley approves of Sil.
Ben bows awkwardly as well.
Alysson whispers, "Ohhh, RAMkens. Because ram head."
Auralind frowns and gives Alysson a sharp shake of her head.
Azizia bows politely as well.
Colson bows politely to the foreign king, or at least who is presumably the foreign king.
Cressidha bows politely.
King Phaoris’s gleaming eyes survey the strangers from within his ceremonial mask. “You are the outsiders who helped my brother Nadun escape from the Neferset? We are truly in your debt, friends.” He gestures with a clawed hand to an advisor standing nearby. “Please, you may choose your reward. And then I would speak with you again.”
Bran sketches the statues.
"Aye, your majesty," Atley says.
Sil holds his tongue in the presence of royalty.
Cressidha looks to see what exactly they're offering as a reward.
An advisor standing nearby offers several coffers of gold, and a medallion that appears to be some sort of honor token.
Bran mutters softly to himself in Dwarven as he sketches. Those who happen to know the words will catch "hawks…? Eagles…?"
Colson accepts his reward gratefully. The husbando will be pleased at this contribution to their New Home Pls Fund.
Atley takes the medallion with a polite grunt.
Cressidha collects a medallion and bows her head politely to the advisor.
Sil accepts the medallion.
Phaoris waits patiently until the group has accepted their rewards.“I must ask you first of all whether any of you know of a team of researchers from among your people who should have been traveling this way. A man in a hat, who called himself Jones, passed through here two days ago and said he was expecting them.”
Atley silently turns to Ben.
"We do not know Jones," Azizia shakes her head.
"Oh." Ben looks up from contemplating his medallion. "Jones? That is… we are them, I guess."
"Hey, that's our guy!" Alysson says.
"We do know Jones? I do not know Jones," Azizia shrugs.
Ben glances at Azizia. "He's White Squad's fellow. We come here for him."
Bran is now making a sketch of the ceiling, which results in some very unusual posture.
Atley grunts.
“Ah,” Phaoris nods gravely. “Then I have been asked to direct you to the northeast of here, to the place we call Khartut’s Tomb, where this hat-man Jones will meet you. Travel safely, and may you find what it is the hat-man seeks.”
"Good luck, you all," Sil says, nodding to Ben.
Alysson laughs at 'hat-man.'
"Yessir." Ben bows to King Phaoris and then backs away.
Atley marches up to Ben and extends a hand. "Watch yourselves out there. This is it, then."
"Jones…" Cressidha looks like she's thinking. "The name does sound familiar."
Colson nods to White squad. "Light be with you."
Ben shakes Dane's hand firmly. "Y'all be safe too. An' drink water."
"Good luck, White Squad." Azizia bows her head.
"Elune adore," Auralind says.
Colson drinks water.
Cressidha nods to White Squad as they leave.
Blue Squad's episode continues here.
White Squad's episode continues here.