The Fire Rises: Attack on Tylmerande

[Storm Veritas]

Storm watched with a bit of disturbance at the ruthlessness with which Shinsou dispatched the pirate captain. The entire charade was done so cavalierly, it was almost out of step for the swordsman. To kill a man in plain sight so savagely lacked some of the finesse and discretion that the experienced warrior usually displayed. Still, in the small, locked room, it was an easy, safe way for him to execute the relatively useless Galshin. Additionally, the heavy-handed nature of the thing would likely send the messager with a notion that the uprising was done by barbarians.

“You could have gotten the safe combination before you stomped his f*cking head off.” Veritas smiled with feigned benevolence, amused a bit at the morose scene.

Gazing down, the forever-shocked gaze of the dead man peered off at infinity as the new leadership of the Brotherhood gathered about the table. Hayate was learning by fire here, and must have earned some special trust by Vaan Osiris to be privy to such strategy.

“On the open water, it’s best they not know we’re out there. Let them send the warships; they’ll send the iron-hulled boats and cannoned galleons to crush the uprising if they think they’re dealing with civilians. Between my lightning and magnetic skills, and Shinsou’s new freezy-bullshit, we’ll take the entire Coronian Armada tits-high in twenty minutes. They send the second rate wooden fleets… we’ve got a steeper hill to climb.”

Looking directly at Hayate, a smirk from the old adventurer.

"Now, can you think of any particularly suitable messengers that could deliver a convincing word to Radasanth that Tylermande had been overrun by barbarians, and not the most powerful wizards in the world!?

"I can maybe think of one..." A wink to the young man from the dimpled face of the smiling politician.

Bemused, Storm rolled a pinch of tobacco across his thumbs before plunging the thumbful into his pipe. Although he didn’t have matches on him, the fire generated by the pipe would consume some of the decaying-corpse fumes being generated in the room. A small vent in the corner allowed for some escape of the otherwise oppressive gray smoke, although the wizard estimated those to not enjoy pipe smoke to be soft and weak-willed anyway.

Looking at the door, the echoes behind of the growing police force was beginning to fester. Completely nonplussed, both Storm and Shinsou were now standing, leaning against different fixtures in the small room, as though expecting a birthday cake to be paraded in. Perhaps more reasonably, Hayate appeared more tense, and understandably preparing for a showdown of sorts.

“Kid…” The wizard spoke through clenched teeth and a smile, gesturing with a large hand and long, thin fingers towards the door. “It’s going to take them a few to muster the balls to open the door. You can hear them chattering out there; they don’t have the numbers to just overwhelm us or they’d have rammed the door already. They’ll probably try something cute first; a little smoke grenade or through-door volley of shots to cull the herd.”

As if realizing the error of his own laziness, Storm gestured towards the safe, twitching his fingers to pop the pins from the metal hinges, gently turning his fingers again the release the tumblers inside the lock. The door obediently fell from the front of the safe, but was caught in mid air by his invisible hand, and guided smoothly across the room to ballast the front door.

“Won’t be worrying about their two-crown muskets blowing a hole in that bastard, but you’ll want to clear me a path. Whatever they DO manage to push through the door at us is going to taste a special flavor of hell.”