Gambit:Gates Closed
Larket Stables
Emerging from the Eternal Forest you are greeted with a much brighter scene. Land once covered with the thick veil of bramble and suffocating weeds has been recycled into the Larket city stables. Sturdy fencing surrounds the grassy terrain and keeps order to the wandering horses and livestock. An office of superb make is one of the more notable features of the field. With a wooden porch displaying information regarding prices on stables, horses for sale, and a map of the vicinity, it seemed this area is much larger than it looks. Peering in the window you see worn ruby couches with a few of the stable workers relaxing after their morning chores. A finely dressed man sits behind a desk scribbling on a notebook of papers and returning the conversation of the others. Stepping down from the porch you find the expansive field for the horses. Breeds of all kinds and colors dapple the freshly sewn grass. Foals trot along behind their mothers and whiney at passing stable workers and their carts of fresh hay. A few passing Larket guards gingerly hand over apples and carrots to the greedy equines as part of their daily treats. Walking along the wagon road you come to the barns where the animals are held. The stables are lined with fresh hay and covering the walls are various instruments vital to horse care. Workers dressed in high leather boots wade in and out of the stalls with shovels carrying manure – one of the lesser pleasing jobs of keeping the stables running smoothly. On the other side of the stables sits another few small fields. Sheep, goats, chickens, and pigs all mingle with one another in separate habitats. Another habitat sits diagonal from the horse barn for the animals to return to in the evening. Turning to move back along the path you emerge again at the main field of horses. One particular horse follows your steps with chocolate-colored gaze until finally you retreat back towards the main streets of Larket.
Round One
Macon's Roll: 3 Mahri's Roll: 8
Mahri was glad for the pendant she wore, having activated it for only the second time since she’s had it. Quiet feet pick a path in the ditch beside the wagon-blazed dirt road, trying to not make too much as she creeped up to the stables. How many horses there were would give an idea on the cavalry capacity that the King of Larket could muster on short notice. If she had the chance, she’d spook the horses enough to scatter them and set the buildings ablaze. Her form and face obscured by a haze of shadow might keep her from too-sharp eyes. Coming within feet of leaving the tall brush, the lycan pauses, listening for a patrol or look out that might spot her should she leave the safety of cover.
By the somewhat monopolistic nature of this place housing the majority of livestock for sale in Larket, as well as acting as the boarding area for the majority of Larketian cavalry horses, with the remainder stabled at places like Fort Freedom and the sheriff’s office, there are hundreds of horses either within their stalls or out grazing the large, open field cleared out of The Eternal Forest. Some guards are always stationed here to help defend Larketian assets from the lycans that call the forest home, but now that contingent’s size has at least doubled in an effort to protect against foreign adversaries interested in dealing an early blow to the Larketian military in this war against Cenril. Stable workers, some feeling the paranoia of living in a kingdom at war after the attack on the nearby Academy of Magics, go about their day, shoveling manure, carrying hay bales, and otherwise tending to the livestock. Neither of these groups seem to have detected the mercenary lurking in cover so close by. One armored guard, Greg, feeds a half eaten apple to one of the horses that has wandered close to the field fence nearest the roadside…
Round Two
Macon's Roll: 8 (Total: 11) Mahri's Roll: 17 (Total: 25)
Mahri ’s silvery eyes scan the buildings and fenced fields, settling on the guard who had wandered away from his cohorts to offer his snack to the horse lounging near the fence. There’s open spaces between herself and the stable and livestock buildings and he was between herself and her destination. Naked fingers skim down to the vial-holding belt snugged up to her waist and counted three vials in to the third one in. The sleeping potion – she isn’t out to kill anyone, yet – is drawn from the felt lined leather loops as silent as possible. A rag is produced from a pocket before the stopper is pulled out carefully with her teeth. Careful not to dose herself, Mahri lets a couple potent drops fall on the cloth, balling it up in her right hand and replacing the stopper and vial to their rightful places. Crouched, alert, the lycan creeps up on the guard. Both her size and preternatural strength might do her good tonight as she jumps just high enough to latch on to the guard’s back, one arm wrapped around his throat while her right hand presses the rag over his nose and mouth. It shouldn’t take long for the sleeping potion to take affect and the larger man to fall to the ground and when, or if, he did, Mahri’ll be moving towards the shadows of the buildings to blend in. So long as the horse didn’t make too much of a fuss about her meal ticket being temporarily incapacitated.
Greg just had a very heavy meal during his break and ate half an apple on top of that. The bloated soldier doesn’t quite have the reflexes right now to even shout out when he’s grabbed and knocked out. He would have dropped the apple had it not been for the horse, enthralled by the fruit, lifting it from the Larketian’s open palm in the same moment that Mahri popped into action. Greg reaches futilely for his weapon, a short sword, at his hip with one hand and flails at his assailant with the other, sending a gloved hand slap towards the lycanthrope’s face behind his back. He goes down and between the horse’s indifference to its surroundings and Mahri’s excellent stealth, not enough of a commotion is made to draw any immediate attention, giving the infiltrator plenty of time to reposition herself before another pair of guards come rolling out of the main building of the stables compound, “Where the hell is that kid? He was supposed to relieve me like ten minutes ag-... Is that little f-” a seagull caws loudly overhead, “...napping over there!?” The one speaking guard smacks the other and the pair rush over to the downed coworker, not aware yet of the somewhat serious situation…
Round Three
Macon's Roll: 15 (Total: 26) Mahri's Roll: 6 (Total: 31)
Mahri was practically holding her breath as she pressed up against the building, that hazy shadow still obscuring her form. She crept towards the corner of the building, peeking around after the two guards raced towards their downed comrade. She was trying to count the full stalls and estimate the horse-shaped shadows she’d glimpsed on the fields. A few hundred there, and in the stables…
Stalls line the side walls of the stable Mahri has snuck around to. She can count at least sixty of them, most with a horse inside. Also within the building are sets of armor designed for equine use; some metallic, some made of padded leather, while a couple appear to be just headgear with subtly glowing gems, possibly magical in nature, embedded into them. The previously complaining guard can be heard smacking Greg in the face and yelling, “Ey man, wake up! What the hell?” He barks at his patrol mate to, “Go grab a bucket of water to throw on this idiot or something!” Some twinge of nervousness can be heard in the young man’s voice as he gives the order, something feels off. Why isn’t he waking up? Clank, clank, clank; the sound of armored boots sounds the alarm of the guard rushing back towards the stable building…
Round Four - Winner: Macon
Macon's Roll: 16 (Total: 42) Mahri's Roll: 3 (Total: 34)
Mahri swears under her breath when she hears that tell-tale clanking of armor. There’s armor in there and horses. She isn’t going to risk horses being injured. If Mouse heard about it, the wolf would never hear the end of it. She didn’t have much time to think, so the lycan races down the center aisle, releasing the doors to occupied stables in an attempt to let the animals run to safety while a spark of flame snapped off her fingers and lit dry hay afire as a distraction to her escape. She hoped that the guards, all young bucks, would panic and not notice the shadow-shrouded figure skulking towards the back double doors of the stable.
The returning guard steps into the stables just as Mahri is igniting the scattered hay in the aisle. “Wha-? Hay!? Hey!” He takes one step forward to give chase then stumbles to halt as he thinks better of pursuing solo, “Witch! Chuck! There’s a gods damn witch in here! CHUCK! Call it in!” The guard that stayed behind with the unconscious Greg, who’s name we now know is Chuck, takes a brittle stone, carved into the shape of a face or a skull, out of a pouch on his hip and crushes it in his hand. A loud siren sounds in the immediate area and a long distance message is relayed through The Academy of Magics communications hub to Fort Freedom. An emergency dispatch is on its way in the form of a small battalion of soldiers and mages. Chuck and our unnamed guard are reunited and both give chase, but in a sort of token manner. Crossbows are drawn and fired a few times at the fleeing Mahri, but only one of the shots even has a prayer of hitting her before she outpaces even the projectiles and finds herself out of range and into the thickness of The Eternal Forest. The new Larketian alert system appears to have worked quite well as within a matter of minutes there are mages on site manipulating water and air, aided by the laborers here to douse the flames that the lycan saboteur kindled during her escape. Somebody is about to be promoted for this, it’s unclear yet who, but it definitely won’t be Greg…
Mahri heard the alarms sound, felt the gathering of mage magic and sensed the parting of air as the bolts few towards the wolf. A witch, huh? Well, she’d been called many things but that was a new one. And then pain exploded in her side as a bolt went through and through – just below her ribs – leaving a hole behind that dripped a trail of blood. Pressing one hand to slow the flow of blood against the wound, she requests the soil to turn, hiding her trail as she disappears into the woods beyond. Ah, home sweet home.