epidemiology | EVENT ★ THE USUAL SUSPECTS

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EVENT ★ THE USUAL SUSPECTS

THE BARRIER

As promised, Arthur has the means to unlock that first, crucial step to saving the ALASTAIR recruits: unveiling the runes maintaining the barrier. He has sequestered himself in a rented room in the inn down the road from the prison; he’s at a good enough distance to keep his concentration unbroken, but near enough that he can reach the runes in question. The recruits are told to be ready, to wait for his signal before they take action.

The signal comes just after the stroke of 5 on the town’s clocks, at what would be dawn in a world of less darkness. There’s a shimmer in the air around the brick building of the jail, like the surface of a bubble. Then suddenly the runes are there: glowing bright green, flaming into existence at various points along and within the barrier.

There are at least 30 of them along the outside. They’re etched on walls, scribed into doors, carved into the very ground. These have to be destroyed first to make any progress, in any way the recruits are able to. Once these all have been broken, erased, or scattered (and some of them are cleverly hidden or out of reach -- have you checked the topmost brick in the clock tower of the jailhouse?), the first defense of the barrier has fallen. Then the jailhouse itself can be rushed, but magic is still hampered until every rune is destroyed. From there the runes can be found every few feet in the walls, ceilings, and floors of the jail, and only once each one is broken will the spell be completely lifted, magic and abilities restored to the area, and the inmates considerably easier to break out.

The recruits aren’t the only ones that can see those runes, though. The jailers are quick to react, and some spring to the defense of the runes while others rush to sound the alarm, calling even more armed guards to the area. Even city guards start to show up in response to the alarm -- there’s definitely a time limit on this venture. Dispose of the runes, rescue your friends, and be out of the area quickly, or you might just be overrun with armed, angry opposition.

THE ESCAPE

By the time those in the cells are finally brought out, it’s pandemonium. The guards, jailers and city guards alike, might not have been able to stop ALASTAIR’s recruits from destroying the runes and bringing down the barrier, but they’re determined at least to stop dangerous criminals from escaping into the city. And these criminals were due to be hung, so they’re not looking to take anyone down peacefully. They’ll be going for the killing blows.

The best chance will be to rely on numbers and scatter. In ones and twos and threes, people should be taking to shadowy alleys, slipping around corners, even dropping down into the sewers, if they have to. Anything to thin out and disappear. The most capable and destructive fighters are asked to stay as long as they can, giving the bulk of the rest of the escapees time to disappear into that unending night.

THE COOLDOWN

Those that helped free their friends probably won’t run into too many problems in the following days, unless you run into a guard with a few injuries and a long memory. The ex-prisoners, though, are another story. They were in there long enough that the men and women who guarded them know most of their faces quite well, and since they’re out of prisoners to guard, what else do they have to do but take to the streets and search? Ex-prisoners should play it carefully, then, if they don’t want to end up right back where they started. Guards are more than happy to cause an immediate fracas should they spot anyone that belongs in jail.

That’s not to say you shouldn’t go out at all! Just, you know, take a disguise with you. As if anticipating the rising demand for them, all local merchant shops seem to be stocking up on scarves, shawls, and bulky clothing. Isn’t that nice? Most of them don’t really care what anyone did to end up in jail, they just want to share in on those ALASTAIR-paid wages.

If spotted, townsfolk have varied opinions of the escapees. Some are mistrustful and bitter, and will immediately alert guards upon realizing who they’re dealing with. Some of them really don’t care. They’re tired of the darkness, tired of the conflicts, they just want to get on with life. One old man in particular seems to inexplicably love all ALASTAIR recruits, the ex-prisoners in particular, and will insist on buying a drink and playing a game of chess with any of them he runs into. The goblins, of course, have pretty good opinions of anyone on the wrong side of the king, and will be your best bet for finding lodging and food. Some of them might even think of you as a hero, or at least a roguishly charming vigilante.

Spend your post-breakout time well, and try not to make any more enemies.

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[The tales she had read as a child, (younger than she was now, at any rate), had always been something she looked back on as cautionary as much as they were entertaining. They taught justice and fairness, what was right and wrong, of the gods and mortals, of the dangers of pride and too much power, of so many things-

But thinking of them as real people, like the one before her, is so different somehow. She has so many questions just waiting to tumble out, and it makes her completely forget her fatigue, the stress of the prison break and all the patients it had brought to her door, (the one it still hasn't she wanted to be brought to her the most). It settled as a dark shadow in the back of her mind, kept back by the shining font of prospective knowledge in front of her.]

Then... Those humans who possess magic use you to fight for the Holy Grail?

[She could grasp it, fill in the holes with her own assumptions- she knew of that cup's legend as well, after all. Her world's version, anyway, equally coveted. If these Servants required magic to survive then surely those summoning them would need to mages, not normal humans... The concept of "class" was not quite right, but if she thought of of them as simply descriptors of the type of warriors-]

What of when you are not summoned? What of the other heroes?

[His lips abruptly thin.]

We rot.

[Gilgamesh wishes he had a drink handy. He'd bury himself in one for the excuse not to speak. For as proud as he was as King, proud of his own power and proud of his own accomplishments, the very nature of a Servant was, as he'd described to someone else, that of a slave. There's no kind way to gloss over it and he wouldn't want to anyway because even Gilgamesh can't stomach a lie quite that sick.

For her probing, Sieglinde gets the truth. But she may wind up wishing herself that she hadn't even bothered.]

Back to sleep. Back to the mockery of a grave. No true rest exists for a Servant. Only the Throne awaits. Only an endless war.

[Her other question goes unanswered, as his bitterness makes it obvious. Of course they use me, or else they try.]

[Oh.

Sieglinde had the wherewithal, even in her excitement, to quiet the moment his expression fell. To rot- at first she wasn't sure if he meant literally in the way a corpse did, but his clarification made it more clear. So, perhaps, more like a dormancy, to not truly exist or live until summoned, unless it was to be used in battle.

She was quiet another moment, before she murmured somberly.]

Then you are a weapon as well.

[The fate of a hero wasn't so wonderful in his world, it seemed. Perhaps it could be said it wasn't in any world, but. It was not a desirable fate, to be used forever for war at the will of something outside yourself.]

- I am sorry.

[For the question as well as the situation, though of course she could do nothing for that.

Though she'd forgotten her manners and hospitality in her excitement to speak to him, Sieglinde actually did have a small cask of beer buried beneath some of her notes in the corner. At this rate, she'd need a mug herself.]

[Gilgamesh recovers with admirable swiftness, settling back on a wry sort of grin.]

I certainly am. And I'm the very best at what I do, which is why they call me King. Never doubt it for a second; among the Servants, I stand as the strongest by far. I hold the most power and the highest respect and all know to worship my crown.

[And indeed, he looks quite pleased with himself. There's no real angst involved here, for as depressing as the situation was. Gilgamesh saw himself as beyond renown and so acted as befit an absolute ruler. He doesn't appear troubled at all, brushing the matter aside with nothing in the way of lingering doubt.

But it may be hard to forget how harsh his tongue had been, and how jaded he sounded. That much was very real.]

Well, all that aside... did you bring me blood? If I cannot have magic, that will suffice, and I will be on my way.

[If the other Servants were heroes of ages and tales past... Who would be among their number? Beowulf? Odysseus? Sigmund and Signe? Saint George? Theodoric the Great? King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table? Skuld? There were countless stories, some that rang more true than others, but... In his world perhaps they all were true, and those heroes lived on as spirits... It was a fascinating possibility, despite the violent nature of their existences. Something she wanted to question, but held off, not desiring to probe into something that may prove sensitive.

At least, not now, even though his confidence seemed uninjured- and she nodded in agreement, having no reason yet to doubt, and t did make sense in a way. If their status would be determined by the strength not only of themselves but of their enduring legends... Gilgamesh would be among the first- maybe the first depending on how one chose to interpret certain deific tales.

Still. At his request, Sieglinde sought to examine the expression on his features, looking for insight on the matter she'd been wavering on.]

Are you yet weakened?

[It had been easier to agree at the thought of a choice between life or death... But he walked and spoke with ease now, and though there was a bandage on her forearm, she did not yet produce the product- no matter how enamored she'd been with the words he offered her and the hints of the magics of his world.]

Ah... about that...

[How best to describe it? He didn't want to come across as weak, vowed to never again after that miserable period of imprisonment, but the state he was in was certainly imperiled at best. He's getting by only by meting out expended energy with care. Beyond that, he'd soon find himself in exactly same situation.

She's just a girl. She can't do much to threaten him and he also doubts, based on her behavior so far, she'd go blabbing to anyone else about his circumstances. So on a whim, he decides to trust her with information that would be his undoing in the wrong hands.]

Truthfully, it's not much better than before. Without a Master, or a reliable means to provide me with prana, I will fall into a similar state.

[She did seem hesitant about something, though, so he gives the matter a moment's worth of thought and then offers:]

Give me the blood. It should give me enough energy to give you something worthwhile in return.

[As a witch, Sieglinde was wary- she had grown up on the stories of the tragedies that could befall those who were arrogant or foolish enough to deal with certain entities. Contracts with demons, deals with the devil, the summoning of the dead... It was risky business and she knew it.

But none of the cautionary tales had covered gifts, or motivation from kindness. And she had taken precautions, best she was able. It wasn't the freshest blood, nor straight from the vein as she'd read was required for certain creatures, for certain binding signatures. And she'd cut it with a few drops of liquid (beer, actually) to prevent total purity in case it could be used against her.

... And more importantly, she did not see any attempt to deceive her in his eyes. Perhaps that was foolish, to trust her instincts when she ought to know better, but.

Sieglinde pulled up the ring at the end of the chatelaine belt she wore around her waist. On the ring was a clear vial and equally clear liquid, a small knife, and another vial, which she detached and held out in her small palm.]

I give it freely, with no expectation.

[Warily, but freely.]

[Anyone would be considered foolish to trust Gilgamesh at his words. But sometimes his tongue wasn't so venomous and sometimes he could speak plainly, honestly, despite his nature. This was one of those times. Currently, at least, she has nothing to fear from him. She does not stand in his way. She does not mock him. And this is good enough for now.

Gilgamesh grabs the vial, and it disappears the moment he snatches it up. As if absorbed by some otherworldly force. His pupils dilate and he goes still for a few seconds, then sighs in relief. It was like vampirism, in some ways, but in others it just defied all imagination.

Gilgamesh appears noticeably livelier once he's done and shakes his head.]

I will honor the deal. Watch carefully.

[It's his turn to hold out his hand, and with a golden flourish, a heavy tome drops out of nowhere onto it. Its surface is covered in skittering runes and even the pages smell very old, detailed with charts and diagrams and intricate lists. Sieglinde will be able to read the cover, and the withered letters spell out BOOK OF SPELLS.

Gilgamesh offers the book to Sieglinde with a small smile.]

This will help you on your studies. I believe these spells range from novice to intermediate, so you should find something useful within.

[The moment he moved to take the vial from her hand Sieglinde was watching him like a hawk. Even if she decided to trust the feeling that he was not hiding anything about his consumption of blood, she still had the learning and instinct to be cautious-

And it disappeared. Without realizing it Sieglinde was leaning forward and watching in awe with baited breath, slightly nervous... But then he sighed, and nothing untoward happened. At his urging, she kept her gaze locked on him, eyes wide as if that might help her see any trace or sign of his magic better- and ended up almost jumping in surprise when the tome slapped his palm.

There was no hiding the outright wonder on her face as she visually traced the runes on the cover, the hints of diagram and circle, the words that were not her native tongue but one of many she'd learned along the way.

A spell book.

If it was to be considered a one time deal... There would be no harm in taking it. She gave him her blood, he gave her a book. That was the end of it, with no loophole that she could pin down in his words that could be taken as a contract- at least, in her knowledge of such things, which required careful use of words and offers. And she wanted, more than almost anything else in that exact moment...

To take it. Her fingers were shaking with excitement as she reached out and accepted the heavy book that made her appear even smaller than before, reverently pulling it into her lap.]

I accept it with gratitude.

[She should... Probably do something other than stare but. She needed a moment to even begin to process that she had come from where she had in her world... To this.]

[Was this really the face of a would-be weapon? Gilgamesh finds that hard to believe. He'd still slaughter her in seconds flat if it proved necessary, would still cut her down should she ever interfere with his business... but all he sees now is the face of a child. Or rather, a child that once was, undoubtedly forced to mature before her time. She's so polite and well-mannered that it warms him to see.

His hands move to fold over hers, and they are also warm. He looks kind. Kinder than the legends spoke of, certainly, and maybe she's simply caught him in a softer moment—or maybe it was true what he said, that the legends couldn't cover everything.]

You are most welcome, dear Sieglinde. Consider it yours for the duration of our mission together.

[Gilgamesh rises to leave but reconsiders something. Looks back at her, and his expression evens out again. Appears stern, even.]

I should tell you, though... these Heroes, these Servants... they are nothing more or less than beasts. And they will take your life, should the inclination strike them. There are others like me here which bear the title and they are all cut from the same mold. They all bare fangs if cornered.

[His eyes narrow. That kindness has been lost, replaced by a devastating sort of chill.]

Be careful who you trust, Sieglinde. And never hesitate to wield your magic to defend yourself, if need be.

[A child who had just been given the item that immediately became the most important thing that she owned in this world. Her thirst for knowledge was unquenchable, and her desire to learn endlessly more than she already did was what kept her going- through the destruction of the world she'd believed in, and her arrival into this new one.

The touch is warm, and his expression is kind- her fingers curl slightly between his hands and the worn leather of the spell book, and she eventually averts her gaze with a soft murmur.]

- I shall treasure it.

[And study it every day until she could decipher everything she could, though she knew there would be no guarantees the magic within would be something she could utilize herself. It was still an opportunity to try, a bit of hope.

When he rose she moved to follow suit, clutching the book to her chest and struggling to balance while holding it, her legs weaker than usual after all the patients she'd seen already- but she freezes at the tone of his voice, knees quaking with the effort it took not to topple over.

But she wasn't concentrating on that so much as the sudden change in his expression. The warning.]

I have no intention of cornering any of them...

[Though her fingers tightened anxiously on the book at the thought of just which "Heroes" were present, that he thought to caution her so. The seriousness in his tone.

The way he compared himself to them, who he compared to beasts.]

[Humanity was hopeless. He'd determined as much himself, back home, and vowed to wipe the world clean someday. But seeing this child, this child who believes so resolutely in that pursuit of knowledge, with bright and hopeful eyes—well, his hatred lessens. Meeting so many people here, as he had, it was hard to view them through that same tainted lens.]

Be a good girl, then.

[Gilgamesh kisses the very tips of his fingers, and with a modest brush, dusts over her lips with them. What a terrible sort of man he was, wretched and vile on even his brightest days; yet he has enough spirit left to treat her gently. Undoubtedly, someday, she'd grow into a beautiful woman.

He wonders if he'll ever get to see it. Will I be here forever?]

I will check back in on you soon. Until that time, study very hard, and behave yourself. It's an order from the King.

[With a wink, he turns to go, and rather than walk out, he disperses into magical dust. A golden sphere that swirls around her head but once, then zooms away. A charismatic and enthralling presence from start to finish.]

[Though her knees locked up, trembled a bit from the strain of staying upright, balancing on the broken feet hidden by bandages and sweet herbs, there was something about him that kept her still, focused on him and what he was saying and doing. When he reached out for her she almost hung back, after all, he had just compared his kind to beasts, yet with that same mouth he-

Kissed her?

(Indirectly, perhaps, but it's her first one, her cheeks have lit up a brilliant shade of pink, and-)]

I shall-

[But that's all she can get out before he's gold, shimmering and incandescent, and a sigh of awe escapes her instead, turning her head to try and follow the path... But then he's gone. With just enough kindness, generosity, and magical charisma to have a sheltered witch near swooning.

Her legs buckle the next second, sending her toppling to the ground with the spell book still clutched close, and from the half-up position on her knees it's an easy flop to her back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling with a barely held back noise of girlish excitement.

- until her next patient showed up, this was fine...]

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EVENT ★ THE USUAL SUSPECTS

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