Gambit:Snake In the Grass

Scattered Trees

Exiting the Arena to your south you find yourself in a flat area with a forest like landscape. Although the trees here are scattered and far apart, making it easy for travel through them. Signs of wildlife are few as there is little for the land here to truly support. Birds seem to dominate this small region as their small forms need much less than any other to sustain life.

Valrae || On the final evening of Equaius, Hawkwood was settling in with the rest of the training Cenrili Guard outside of the republic’s grand arena. The air was cool despite the slowly lowering sun, the promise of fall crisp with the brightening of the leaves that had already begun to scatter about the browning grass in shades of deep reds and bright yellow and orange. The arena had been transformed from a leisurely area of bloodsport to the barracks and planning of war time. There were no less than two hundred newly signed on and able bodied men and women packed inside preparing for the harshness of what was yet to come. There were areas set up for the blacksmiths out of doors, hastily thrown together forges and skilled tradesmen pounding metal into weaponry through all hours. The slam of metal against metal rang out endlessly, and Hawkwood was as used to its ceaseless song as he might have been to the beat of his own heart. He was slick with sweat and marked with the dirt of the arena, letting the air cool him as he enjoyed a smoke post weapons training session that had gone surprisingly well. There was an ember of hope in his heart as he paced beyond tents and the heat of fires both for cooking and creating. Out of habit, his long sword rested at his side.

Kanna || It is a beautiful day outside. Birds are singing, flowers are blooming… On days like this, magicians like these… Should be burning in Perdere. Kaaname Tsuji thinks this to himself with a smile on his face as he sees the arena through the backwoods of Cenril. The vampire is here today not as a Larketian spy, but as a humble scholar. He has donned his magical disguise so that his appearance matches his age were he still human. Dressed modestly in a half-robe and trousers suiting the region’s progressive style, the elderly-looking telemancer holds his staff, altered ever so slightly to look like an ordinary cane to the naked eye. There does not appear to be anyone with notable ability nearby to stop him, and so he turns to begin his march towards the arena’s walls, where he’ll be close enough to use his magical abilities to gather intelligence on how many army members there are, and how many of them specialize in which wasteful form of magic to disgrace Vakmatharas.

Round One

Kaaname's Roll: 8 
Hawkwood's Roll: 2

Valrae || Hawkwood continues his leisurely walk, white clouds of smoke trailing him as he stalks through the tents. It was a fine afternoon indeed, fine enough that he stopped to discuss how a particular sword enchantment was coming along with an ambitious young man named Larz who fancied himself not only a blacksmith but a weapons enchanter. While he was new to the trade he made fine work with the metal itself, it was the magic he’d still needed to get a handle over. His latest tool was a sword that would spark with what he hoped was holy light regardless of the total faith of the user. He reckoned he’d managed it with the help of a Talisman of Arkhen, blessed by a high Priest from the Devout’s Guild, nestled squarely in the hilt. So engrossed in this conversation, he was unawares of any intruding upon their arena or camp despite his lycanthropic senses. Blame it on the whole pig being roasted only two fires down. Larz hosted the sword out toward Hawkwood and said, “Give er a swing!” to which the merc turned soldier grunted and asked, “At what?” Larz laughed, pointing toward the anvil that was still hot from his work. “Right down there. Any force should do to create the spark.” Hawkwood only shrugged and brought the sword down. No sooner did the iron blade meet anvil did a spark ignite indeed. Pain bloomed up toward his shoulder as the sword arced backward and a near blinding flash of holy light boomed between them with an audible crack. “Gods damn, Larz.” Hawkwood finally managed, blinking spots from his eyes. Larz only laughed and laughed. “I’ll keep at it!” He promises. “And I’ll keep this…” Was Hawkwoods only reply as he turned back toward the arena. “Not safe any anyone else's hands…” He’d murmured, still blinking away the inky blobs the light had left burned into his sensitive eyes.

Kanna || The mention of an enchantment is not lost on the telemancer, and he immediately capitalizes on the situation. “Excuse me, do you mind if I rest my knees here? My doctor told me to start taking walks after lunch for my health, but I think I overdid myself getting lost in those woods.” Kaaname says to a babyfaced guard, who he knows already is dealing with the loss of his elderly grandmother. The guard immediately accommodates the elderly Kaaname to an upturned barrel. As he leans on it, one hand disappears from his cane, and onto a small parchment scroll, where he makes notes regarding the blacksmiths’ capabilities. Between those soldiers who are cooking, moving supplies, working on the swords, and Larz himself, Kaaname is able to estimate the two hundred soldiers still inside the arena, and the time period from which they were recruited. From Larz’ mind, he notates the implementation of divine magic from Arkhen as a counter to Vakmatharas. His eyes are averted when the flash of light rings out, and he makes a notation regarding estimates of mana used with each swing. Oblivious to the eyes of most, if not all, who are engrossed on the end day activities, Kaaname straightens, thanks the young guard, and makes his way towards the arena walls proper. From here, he’ll be able to determine the capabilities of the new recruits, and summate the weaknesses each one of them hides. That is, -if- he is able to.

Round Two

Kaaname's Roll: 6 (Total: 14) 
Hawkwood's Roll: 15 (Total: 17)

Valrae || Larz doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss with the elderly Kaaname and seems in far too good of a mood to stop him, or even notice any note taking. But the air has shifted. With the changing of the breeze, it brings the scent of the sea and fall and… something else. Hawkwood halts as the hair upon the back of his neck begins to stand. Vampire was nothing new, Cenril was diverse and filled with plenty of all flavors of undead. No, this was a different stench altogether. It was the smell of river water and the muskier smells of a city filled with death. Filled with the worship Vakmatharas, he was paranoid enough to guess. Alarm bells trilled inside of his mind as he turned hill back toward Larz and the thicker scattering of trees where the smell had originated. His mind quieted, the still and uncrowded mind of a seasoned and well trained warrior falling over him like a veil as he gripped the enchanted sword so tightly in his hands that his tanned and scarred knuckles went white. His long legs covered the ground quickly as he circled back, his golden eyes wild and sharp the way only predators could be. “Larz.” His voice was a low growl of warning as he zeroed in on the elderly man. “Step back.” The young guard did no such thing, only looking up in surprise with his hammer still held aloft in his hand. “What?” Hawkwood spared him no glance. Instead, he focused on what all of his lycanthropic senses screamed ‘INTRUDER’. “State your name.” He demands, his feet widening to shoulder width as he brings up the sword. He didn’t wait for Kaaname to answer though, instead he lunged forward and struck out with the blade. He moved as swiftly and surely as a viper, arcing the iron down in a flash of light. If the old man fell so quickly, it was just as well… And if not, he would give no quarter. He would strike again, with as much force and surely as the last before dancing back to bring his blade up in a defensive position. By now there was shouting. From Larz, from the other Cenrili Guards who were near enough to witness the commotion. The shouting rolled through the camp like a wave. Soon, it would reach through even the arena and bring more guards.

Kanna || Kaaname grimaces as the air changes as well. The cheerful aura of those present in the camp grows tainted with the growing alarm of one single person. Regardless, he was more than capable of taking on a lycanthrope, though not in close combat. He watches from the corner of his eye as the sword draws closer. Dodging it entirely would only confirm the guards suspicions, and Kaaname was in no mood to leave a blood trail back to Larket. Instead, he leans backwards as if turning around to face the call, and takes the blade directly into his left shoulder. With a calculated flick of the wrist, he plays his own gambit: a true Cenrilian passport from the man whose visage he is borrowing, recently stamped with the symbol of Kelay, the one area close enough to share the scent of the Vibrance River. With an anguished cry, the man falls to his knees and grips his faux wound. “My… my name is Seymour, sir…” Kaaname looks pleadingly at the other guards, who have not yet sensed what Hawkwood has. “Seymour Gluteus…” Along with the stench of the Vibrance River, there is indeed the scent of medicinal herbs and the woodlands of Kelay mixed in with the elderly man’s clothing and hair. “Please, I’m sorry to have gone through your camp, my doctor in Kelay said I have… have to take nature walks every day… I didn’t want to cross the bridge every day…” Kaaname subtly looks around. His pain is comparable to that of a papercut, but he knows that things will go much worse if the bluff is not believed. He has only seconds to gather information from those gathering before deciding whether to flee or not.

Round Three

Kaaname's Roll: 6 (Total: 20)
Hawkwood's Roll: 12 (Total: 29)

Valrae || Hawkwoods gaze was as cold as two chips of amber as Kaaname filled the air with his lies. The coppery tang of blood only further stoked his hunter’s instincts and filled his newly rising bloodlust. Even the earthy scent of Kelay and her herbs could not dissuade his paranoia now. Larz looked desperately between the two of them, his head drifting back and forth in confusion as other guards swarmed in to circle them from all sides. Confusion and concern rolled through them all, a circling wall of Cenrili bodies buzzing with dozens of minds crowded with thoughts. “You’re no doctor.” Hawkwood snarls, raising his voice loud enough to be heard all around them. “You’re a filthy Larket spy! A parasitic worm that crawled out of goblin shi-” The crowd seems to turn suddenly. Shouts of agreement ring out, drowning out whatever that last word might have been. Hawkwood doesn’t hesitate again. His next swing is aimed at his already injured side, betting that while he was a vampire and hardly likely to be suffering as greatly as he acted he still might be slowed. And the soldier dances back again, sword lifted and ready to parry and blows from the spy should they come. Someone from the crowd threw a hammer towards the man’s head as the screams of the guards grew ever louder. They were coming from the arena now too, pouring out into the small yard and pushing in so that the circle began to close around them. Hawkwood snarled as someone stumbled into his back and threw an elbow backwards, though his eyes remained locked on Kaaname. Hawkwood swings his sword again, this time aiming at his neck in hopes of cleaving it right off of his body. Larz, bless him, tried to shout a warning for him to stop. “We should get information from him!” He protests but the blade is already in motion.

Kanna || What a gods-damned pain in the ass these Cenrili children were. Striking first and asking questions later was something he would expect from his ill-tempered daughter, not professionals. Still, if the lycan before him knew he was a vampire, then surely he would know that the horizontal swing would not make its mark. Kaaname lurches forward with incredible speed that the humans of the camp might have only witnessed in fantastical duels. In one blink of the eye, Kaaname is there, glowering at Hawkswood with an unamused sneer with the sword coming dangerously close to his neck, and the next, he is rolling forward on both outstretched palms to somersault upright. “Il-lusi.” He commands to his staff. When the sword blade strikes the ground instead of the spy, a flash of light rings out. In the split second it takes for it to fade, the elderly man and the stolen passport are gone, but the stench of the Vibrance River remains heavy in the air. Was he invisible, or turned into a swarm of bats to fly away? It is neither, as Kaaname has merely implemented an illusory spell to disguise himself as a guard. Purposely crowding in amongst the human soldiers that have gathered, Kaaname moves backwards as the guards clamor forwards. This expedition had not been a complete waste, but now that they were in the middle of an emergency, perhaps Kaaname could gather one last piece of intelligence before making his escape.

Round Four - Winner: Kaaname

Kaaname's Roll: 20 (Total: 40)
Hawkwood's Roll: 1 (Total: 30)

Valrae || Hawkwood doesn’t pull from the swing, either because he had not heard Larz or, the more likely case, uncaring of whatever measly information this vampiric spy could offer them from Larket. This would seem to be his worst mistake of the night. His blade strikes the ground. There is a thunderous boom. Light sparks, Arkhen’s fury bright as the sun at the center of the crowd of guards, and it leaves them all dazed and blinking. The vampire is gone but senses have not returned, and the soldier staggers back from the force of his own swing. The smell of burning grass and the hair of his arms overwhelms him and he cannot tell where Kaaname has gone. Larz is shouting but it’s muffled under the ringing in Hawkwood’s ears. “Where is he?!” This question rises up into the autumn air from many mouths. “Find the spy!” In the turmoil and confusion guards begin to turn and shout at each other. There is shoving, cursing. Hawkwood can no longer afford to hunt down the trail of the spy and assure he’s left Cenril, instead he is caught up in the boiling and blood thirsty crowd and must suffer the pains of glancing blows as he elbows through while demanding order be found again. A strange moving river of confused bodies would allow Kaaname to slip effortlessly away. Perhaps even into the arena itself where the maps and plans for an upcoming raid on Larket can be found…

Kanna || In the midst of the turmoil, Kaaname smiles. Poor children. Though their numbers might prove worthwhile, the make-up of their ranks is showing firsthand to be little more than an act. Brave soldiers looking good for the commoners, ready to throw away their lives for the wrong team. Kaaname looks over at the roast pig, forgotten in the midst of the chaos. He might as well hurry them along if they are that eager to go into Vakmatharas’ embrace. As he matches the jog of other soldiers, he lightly brushes his hand along the charred snout of the pig. Unbeknownst to those who will consume it later, the musculature begins to rot, just enough that the smokey taste will cover it, and just enough to cause dysentery amongst the ranks. They will go, but he is not foolish enough to stay long enough to watch it happen. Kaaname continues to weave through the soldiers, and through the path through the arena. Only once they realize that one of the copies of their raid maps have been taken will it be too late.