Smoke Flowers IC
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Smoke Flowers IC
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[Evening, Day One, Autumn; House Laésal, Londinium]
As they were tucking in to a sumptuous range of desserts a ripple went through the room and one or two of the elves sprouted wings and fluttered up in to the air in consternation…other sprites flitted about the room in a state of agitation. A messenger whispered something to Silk and sighing she addressed the team
“Fatebreakers! You don’t have time to make a plan and so fate conspires to give you the biggest diversion possible. I have been told that the riots on the bridges have indeed started, but worse than that, and I do not believe it is a coincidence, Afric air ships have been seen en masse over the Channel. They should be here within a couple of hours. Make no mistake, this could make the Eurowars look like a mild spat. Londinium is not adequately equipped to repel a bombing force of this size, and this is too large a force to be mere sabre rattling so that is what it will be. Go, make yourselves as ready as you can. We don’t have time to evacuate so seek us out in the lower levels of the House when you are able to return…”
***
#18
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People just spontaneously sprouted wings around here? That seemed like it could make life confusing. But then Whisper’s announcement drove such musing out of Zag’s head.
“Perfect!” after a moment Zag had the grace to clarify “Perfect for our raid, awful for all of the people here, of course. Can you provide a guide to get us through the streets and past the riots as efficiently as possible?”
He popped one last bite of dessert into his mouth, looked around for his gear and then realized that he didn’t really have any under than a blunderbuss that he couldn’t carry through the streets, so shrugged “Guess I’m ready to go. Al, you’ll have to carry the guns again, I suggest that the blunderbuss might actually be good for raiding into a house — not much kevlar around here to soak up the pellets. Of course that goes both ways, so once we are in their building I go through doors first, at least there is a bit more of me to soak things up with.”
Then he started heading to the door, adrenaline starting to make him feel alive.
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Bronwean shovelled custard and crumble into her face.
“ah well there goes the pretty dress”
Dressed she pulled her great coat on and shouldered her rifle.
“we need a way across the river. If they are fighting on the bridges that’s going to be an interesting rout” she looked at the sky’s.
“may be we should wait till the bombings start. It will be madness at that point. We could slip across the river in the kaos” she smiled wickedly “bit like setting of the fire alarm in a shop” -
Since everything Al had brought to this place was right here on his person, following Silk’s admonition to make himself ready amounted to fueling himself with additional critical nutrients in the form of banoffee pie and chocolate fudge cake. The news that planning would be impossible was the best news he’d heard in weeks. Zag was already headed for the door, so Al stuffed so much cake into his mouth that he looked like an unshaven chipmunk and followed the ork out.
Bronwean was saying some smart things, to which Al responded with an encouraging “Mpmph rreph mmmremmph,” congratulating himself on his Demosthenic oratory skills.
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“ZAG, hold up!” batshit bellowed with a surprisingly room fillingly loud voice. “let’s just wait for the kaos to start, oo cherry” she help herself to an abandoned plate and sat down to eat.
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[Evening, Day One, Autumn; Outside House Laésal, Londinium]
When they emerged from the House it was like stepping out in to a kicked ant hill. Despite the lateness of the hour the air was filled with the panicked hubbub of a populace that knew that something bad was coming without really knowing what to do about it. Predictably that was flaring in to violence but most of that seemed to be focused on the nebulous Them on the other side of the river.
The crowds got thicker as they made their way towards the Thames (or whatever it was called here) and it pulsed and surged as the animal nature of the mob drove it first towards the blockading soldiers and then away again as volleys of shots rang in to the air with the smell of cordite covering the banks. It was clear that short of clinging to the underside of the bridges (as some were crazy enough to do) that they weren’t going to cross here.
Thankfully the lightermen seemed to have either joined the mob or otherwise fled and there were a number of small vessels sitting innocently along the quays below. And if Al could do anything it was make a tiller sing…
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#19
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Zag looked at the others. “I don’t know much about boats, but if either of you do, at least I can put my back into rowing or poling or however those things move.”
He was trying to keep his tone light, but he looked at the crowd in concern. His instincts were screaming that soon violence would break out, and that the soldiers would probably panic and shoot, and then fix bayonets or whatever they did here in the absence of large magazine capacities and automatic weapons. He would very much like to be across the river and preferably breaking into the house by the time all of that started. It would be bad enough making it back through that sort of violence, they didn’t need to chance random injuries by getting caught in it on the way there.
Although, if they stumbled upon some soldiers in a quiet spot where they could jump them, helmets and guns and even a very badly fitted uniform might be enough to ease their passage on the other bank, given the dark and the growing chaos. He wasn’t going to go out of his way to make it happen, but he did mutter to the others “If we had a chance to knock out a few soldiers and take their gear, I wouldn’t say no. Not worth taking a lot of delay or chances to make it happen, but if you spot an opportunity …“
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Glancing out the door they were following Zag through, Al called back to Bronwean – “If’n its chaos yer holdin’ out fer, Ace, don’t reckon ya even got time ta polish off yer puddin’. Things is already full-on pandemonium out there.”
Trotting out with the others, he was quick to spot the boats, and answering Zag, declared, “Sailorin’s ol’ Al’s stock in trade, kemo sabe, leastways it was afore I got into this here crazy perfession.” He chose one he liked from those that appeared unattended and hopped over the gunwale. “Loose them moorin’s amigos. An’ someone check below fer any soon-ta-be-former occupants. Gently, mind. Oh, an’ anyone bothered lookin’ at a map tell me upstream or down.”
Within moments he was away from the quay and guiding the craft north across the river.
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Bronwean stuck out a cherry crumble costed tongue.
“OK folks follow me. I know a back way”
She guided them down back streets and alleyways and quicker than they could have hoped they arrived at the water front. The bridge was lesson in unorganised cannot be mitigated by numbers.
“tide is on the way out, Al” she offered “I checked the times on the map” she tapped her head.
Al winked her a thanks as he started rowing them out
“maybe in this light they might mistake me for their own. This out fit looks similar don’t you think? I’ll go get on the bow. It worth a try” -
[Evening, Day One, Autumn; River Thames, Londinium]
They made their way upstream under what would be Southwark Bridge and then Blackfriars…no sign of the Millennium Footbridge, presumably that hadn’t happened here. River traffic was conspicuously light but nobody seemed to be paying attention to the small lighter and they were able to approach the northern bank without challenge. Mounted military units, none smaller than a squad size, were on patrol on the embankment boulevard and as they got closer they could see that the various landing stages had a couple of nervous looking troopers at the tops… the action was obviously at the bridges and they weren’t anticipating rioters to cross by boat in sufficient numbers to make trouble but nevertheless they weren’t about to leave such obvious paths completely unguarded…
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#20
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Zag eyed the buildings that lined much of the waterfront, and offered “A lot of those look not too bad to climb. If we get one with a low enough roof I could take the rope from the boat with me and hang it down to help you others get up. I guess we’d need a spot not too obvious from a pier if we wanted to do things that way. Or even Bronwyn and I get out that way, then Al just rows up to a pier and tells the guards how happy he is to get away from the chaos on the south bank, then we meet back up — Bronwyn seems to have this place memorized. If one of you have a clever plan for talking our way past guards on a pier, or taking them out quietly, I’m good with that too.[/color]”
Zag was nervous about getting from ‘here’ to ‘there’ on the north bank. His clothes might blend in, but he was big enough that even in poor light there was not much chance of him passing for human. He figured the odds were good that by the time they made it to their destination they’d be running from a posse baying for their blood, but if they could delay that a bit longer then he was all for it.
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Batshit smiled in the mirk.
“let me handle this” she advised” just get us docked up ”
As the boat got nearer the two guards sauntered down the wharf.
” halt! Who goes there? ” they called tucking their rifles in to cover the boats approach
” major O’connor, Horatio own. Now stop waving those rifles around and grab hold of this rope! ”
Her voice had an edge that booked no argument, entitled to immediate compliance. The chorus seemed to be baying dogs.
The two guards dithered caught between their orders and their instilled obedience.
Batshit pushed not letting them think things through
“do just stand there man! Grab the damned rope!”
“sorry sir, our orders didn’t cover this, sorry! Here pass the rope.”
The soliders fumbled with rifles and roped, all the while pushed with barked orders from batshit. Carefully time to not let them rest and think (just like school she realised) so they had to fall back on then instilled obedience in their heads.
” right now listening.?things are going to get a whole lot worse. So stay sharp. You got somewhere picked out to take cover when the fleet arrives?”
“sorry sir what fleet?”
“the frik are on their way, you best look to find a spot to Weather the storm. Then be ready to fight. Do you understand?”
The men look ashen.
“you need to buck up” she admonished “too late for second thoughts now,, now check your cartridge box and set yourself. You have to hold when they come. Make. Sure you kill two each. Do you understand.”
The soldiers looked a little more sure. The younger one nudged the old lag, pointing out the three embroidered” VS” on her sleeve. That gave him a start. Suddenly looking more set and steady
“yes sir”
She reached out took him by the shoulder encouraging “good. Man” she looked at the others who had picked their way off the boat “now my companions and I have messages to deliver”
“Where from sir?”
“The emerald isle” -
Al didn’t know about any Emerald Isles. Was that supposed to be Ireland? He’d spent a good part of the last decade in the Emerald City, as some had once called Seattle. He’d seen satellite photos from the turn of the century and could see where it had gotten the nickname – a lot of neighborhoods, you could barely see the infrastructure for all the trees. The name had stuck long after the urban blight had gone unchecked, leaving the city a casualty to the feels-before-reals wokeness of the local politicians that had been fashionable around the time of the Awakening.
And now here he was in similar situation, but closer to home. Where the hopeless gloom of most of the Seattle sprawl was campared in his mind only to old photos, this twisted perversion of London struck him harder, having also lived there off and on over the years. It had always struck him as a pretty ugly place. But then after seeing the nightmare of the Mole Kingdom, he’d looked on the sunlit world much more favorably. Almost come to like the place as somwhere other than to work, hang his hat, and spend either too much or too little time with a certain someone. And to see what it would look like in this other reality, one where the forces of Satan had run amok in a way that made the 6th World seem like a carnival side show, well, it broke his heart. He was more than ready to locate and retrieve (yet another) another dingus and get the hell out of Dodge, relegating this place to bad memory.
So whatever names she had had to drop, he was glad that Bronwean had gotten them past Idiot 1 and Idiot 2 and on their way to their target.
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Bronwean seemed to be all eyes and ears as she guided them through the street. She did not once pause as if unsure of what was the route only to hustle the group in shadow and concealment.
The roar of the crowds at the bridge punctuated by the cracks of rifle fire echoed round the narrow alley s and square. The rest of the city was on curfew and small groups of marching soldiers enforced the lock down, while small groups of civilians proved just how ineffective marching troops were at spotting anything, but the head lice on the guy in front, by flitting from street to street or loading carts a carriages in a bid to escape and protect their belongings.
Batshit was loving the whole thing, her face split by a massive smile when her eyes glowed with excitement.
As they approached the target of their efforts a dull droning cut through the brouhaha coming from the bridges.
“and that is the herald of our cover to get In there” she slid down the wall and pulled a much battered current bin out of her pocket and took a bit
“metss wai’ how wu oming ststh” she swollowed “the I’ll pick the lock on that side door there at a thieving we shall go” -
[Evening, Day One, Autumn; Inner Temple Gardens, Londinium]
They were in a green quad, surrounded by castle like edifices, albeit with too many windows to be real defensive structures. The basement access that Batshit had found them was out of sight of anyone looking on and presumably technological intrusion countermeasures were a long way off. The lock yielded with only a small amount of protest and they were inside what appeared to be victuals stores, with a particular emphasis on large amounts of, probably expensive, alcohol. Hardly the most likely location for an ancient plane travelling artefact so they would need to do a bit of gentle persuasion on someone or trust that Al and Isaint’s luck propelled them in the correct direction…
***
#21
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“Half a tick, folks,” Al rasped.
There was a heap big load of booze in here. Not that he’d touch any of these Satanized otherworldly spirits with his worst enemy’s liver. Hell, he had enough issues with imported beer. But that didn’t mean there was no value to all the high-proof alcohol here.
A few cuts here, some improvised fuses there, and a generous dash of good old fashioned IED know-how, and he was ready to go. If, on their way back through here, they wanted to shake off any pursuit – or simply eliminate this House of Perverse Degeneracy with extreme prejudice, all it would take would be the flick of a match (and a frantic ten-second skedaddle) to spark an unstoppable conflagration that would doom the whole building to a fiery demise.
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Zag followed Al around, trusting the man’s instincts around alcohol. The Zag grabbed a few bottles of what appeared to be some sort of strong spirit. Two into the pockets of his coat, one in his hands. He explained “Not the worst thing to be able to throw at people. The neck makes a decent handle, they are fairly heavy and hard, and if you manage to break them then they are standing in a puddle with broken glass around, which isn’t the best possible situation. And then there is the shock value of someone throwing expensive spirits. Not as quiet as a knife, I’ll admit, but it gives options.”
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As they wound and wended their way through the building it took two floors for bronwean to realise what she was seeing. Missing ornaments, doors ajar, gaps on book shelves and no one.
“aw frak. They’ve gone and evacuated the place! There’s no one here, they knew what was coming ”
She ran to a window
“look! there, that’s the last of them in the yard. Shit shit shit” she looked around for options “aw well it will be laugh if nothing else”
Before any of the team She clambered up on to the window ledge and launched herself through the window into the void below. She landed on a balcony and immediately hopped the balustrade in one fluid motion; to drop, effortlessly, into the court yard.
Rising from her crouch with a nonchalant stride, she unsung her massive rifle and closed with the two figures at the the door
“Give me the stone and get the frack out of town” her voice chorused like a heckling crowd.
“young lady I don’t think you are in position to make demands of me and mine” replied a oily honeyed voice
Batshit smiled “bring your tin man guard out and let’s have the tussle”
That she knew what the next move was seemed to ha e an effect as the man sighed.
The behemoth was huge, wicked talons for hand and rows of revolvers in the back of its hands just for badness.
She dodged the first salvo and managed the fire a shot that hit it square in the face, the armoured face. As she moved and recocked her weapon the thing closed the distance. To batshits consternation it did so much faster than she wanted.
“uh oh, not good not good”136
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Rebbeca says “Dammit, must she be so stupid?” She slowly descends after Batshit, levitating herself down. She saw no reason to ask the spirits for additional speed until she hears gunfire. “Why is the only other Dryad I know insists on getting herself killed. Are we so rare due to stupidity?” she thinks and follows.
While not exactly cocky, Rebbeca believes that she is the most dangerous person in most rooms, and whatever it is that Bronwen is facing, she can take it out. Unless it is something immortal and ancient like her instructor – but what are the chances to meet something THAT powerful. Worst case, they can outrun most things.
She draws her sword and accelerates downstairs “Brownwen, why are you playing the hero? this is not D&D.” she thinks as she carefully sneaks toward the battle, hoping to finish it without being noticed. Few things would not be surprised by being stabbed by a Dryad which is just as fast as an arrow fired from a bow.
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Batshit fired again, a wild shot, that hit but barley registered with the hulking beast. Unable to reload the turned and counter charged. It wasn’t expecting that and bronwean skewered it with her bayonet.
But it wasn’t enough, while fluids and steam emitted from the wounds, it was still fast and strong. It ripped the rifle out of batshits hands and returned the compliment by plunging it bladed fingers in to her belly
“learn some respect! Girl!” it hissed in her face
Batshit coughed blood in a fountain as She dangled from the beasts hand
“fuck you!” and she spat blood in its face. Se fumbled for her pistol but it fell from her weakening hand.
Beccies cry of anguish was drowned out by the explosion of the first bombs from the zeppelins that were now overhead.
She screamed obscenities at the thing as she danced around it. She made it suffer. It was not a clean kill. It was a drawn out affair even at the end she denied it a clean end. Leaving it to slowly fade inside it shattered hull.
Beckie ran to where she had seen bronwean landbut all she found was a pool of blood.
“no no NO! arrrgh batshit where are you” she bellowed over the din of the explosions.
“here? And look what I got” she smirked as though it was nothing “we better go, I scared them off but they might comeback”
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