ic Down and out in Languedoc and Hell (IC)

[Tiffany Korta]

A road of Languedoc, 25th May 1814

With France still reeling after a fairly tumuncious few years the highways and byways of France were not always safe to traverse, especially this far from the City of Lights. Bandit’s were common, many the leftover scum of them various armies that traipsed across France.

Right now four such individuals were bearing down on a carriage, who were reluctant to stop, to

attempt to rob the carriages passengers of their hard earned gains.

 

Unfortunately for them the passengers inside were far from the normal travellers on this road.

[Supercape]

"Much as I like the countryside, I dislike the road in equal measure" complained Rene. Wheels and road in this age were a juddering, sore business, and his rear end complained. It was better than riding or walking, that could be said. Although he wondered if the free air of the equine canter would not be more invigorating, even if more tiresome for the legs and posterior. 

 

"And I warrant the roads are still not safe" he clucked at Father Henri, as he noted the four horsemen. 

 

"How very apocalyptic" he muttered "Pardon me, Father, I never was a fan of Biblical words. However, one cannot miss the chance to comment on such poetry"

 

He did not relish the chance for more elaborate flares of magic. Experience had taught him to keep such flashes of power under cover. Both mortal eyes, and the eyes of others, both unwanted, were drawn to such bold extravagance. 

 

"Prepare for the worst" he said stiffly to the Father. 

[Tiffany Korta]

The bandit’s weren’t messing about, no dandy highwayman here, instead the lead bandit spurred his horse to speed up and catch the carriage.

As he came close to the carriage he raised a musket, one of several around his person, and fired a single shot at the driver with a cloud of smoke. The projectile struck the driver on the shoulder drawing blood and a little grunt of pain from the sturdy driver.

 

Tucking away the musket the bandit came closer to the carriage obviously aiming to board the carriage to gain control of the vehicle.

[Supercape]

"I fear the worst is upon us" remarked Rene at the crack of musket shot. 

 

"We are beset, and unarmed. Out of the frying pan, and into the fire" he sighed. 

 

The carriage was still going strong, despite all shot and intimidation. He was still a youngish man, and whilst no athlete, he was fit enough. Taking courage in hand, he clambered out of the still moving carriage, and started to edge his way towards the driver. 

 

"Ride on, ride on! As if the devil was on your tails! For all we know, he is!" he yelled at the poor driver, whilst the wind whisked through his hair. He dearly hoped the bandits could not ride and aim at the same time, but his recent experience of being shot still pained him, and he clung to as much cover as possible. He noted the grunt of pain and blood from the driver. 

 

Either they could aim, or they were lucky, he winced. 

[Tiffany Korta]

Two more of the bandit’s followed their leaders lead and drew there musket’s firing off shots at the two figure they could see on top of the carriage. On of the shot went wide whizzing harmlessly past Rene’s ear, the other struck the driver with some accuracy drawing blood and a grunt of pain from the stoic driver.

Meanwhile Father Henri had chosen to stay in the carriage but he wasn’t going to stay unarmed. Rummaging in his bag he drew out a rather battered looking duckfoot pistol, battered but in perfect working order. He briefly looked upwards and whisper a sorry before brandishing the pistol in a rather skilled looking matter.

 

With the driver seeming stunned by his wound his grip off the reins began to slip and the carriage began to drift to the side of the wooded road...

[Supercape]

"That is not good!" declared Rene to all and sundry. 

 

The musket shot bit into the driver, who slumped. The Carriage followed suit. 

 

"Horses, damn them! Too many legs!" he complained, and jumped beside the driver to grab the reins. It was hard to concentrate when he was being shot at, especially when the memory of being nearly shot to death was so fresh in his memory. But the carriage tumbling and splintering was a more vivid picture to his imagination, a horrible mess of broken wood, bone, and flesh, liberally daubed with claret. 

 

The horses were no doubt going to be startled by musket fire. He pulled up the reins, trying to get them to slow down, or stop. But if not, at least drive in a straight line...

[Tiffany Korta]

As hard as Rene tried the already spooked horse were harder to control than was expected. With the next corner the horses, and the carriage, left the road and into a lightly wooded patch. Striking a nearby tree the carriage halted the horses continuing on their course. Luckily the rougher ground had slowed the carriage so the impact wasn’t as dangerous as it could have been.

 

The bandit’s for their part simple pulled out a the verge of the road content to see how the driver and passengers of this vehicle faired from there little crash.

[Supercape]

Rene struggled manfully against the horses, whipping the reins left and right, pulling them, up, down, and finally twisting them into a knot. 

 

"Blasted horses!" he cursed as the Carriage smashed into a tree. "Too many damn legs, not enough brains". 

 

The impact shook him off the chair, stumbling into the upper shards of the cracked tree. Splinters of wood rained over him, but by some miracle he was unharmed, rather than a wrecked body impaled by a flyaway wheel. 

 

He did not often lose his temper, but he felt justified now. 

 

"Brigand swine!" he shouted, and without any particular elegance or artistry, stumbled up and unleashed a wild lightning bolt through the forest air. 

[Tiffany Korta]

The bandit seemed unconcerned with Rene’s display of magic as nonchalantly as they could they turned to each other as they chatted away in English.

<â€Look’s like one of those magic using types.â€>

<â€Had enough of them fighting Napoleon's lot’s.â€>

<â€Even those on our side, those spooky Russian one with there glowing red eye.â€> he surpressed a little shudder. <â€So what you want to do with him?â€>

Neither spoke to each other but instead gave a little nod and raised the musket up as one.

<â€Kill ‘im.â€>

 

Both musket’s bleached smoke and fire all at once.

[Supercape]

Rene understood perfectly well. And he didn't like being shot at. Or killed. A musket shot pellet slammed into his shoulder, taking off a little flesh and rebounding. His iron ring was shield and armour for his more mortal flesh. 

 

"ouch" he said. It still stung, and he had only just recovered from being shot to death, or at least near death. Bullets frightened him. 

 

He clambered behind the wreckage of the carriage, keen to get some cover. 

 

"You are welcome to try, English scum!" he shouted back. Of course, not English were scum. They were uncivilised, stuck up, and dry. But not scum. These guys were, though. 

 

Another flash of lightning thundered through the air, this time from the skies above, neatly lancing one of the bandits. 

[Tiffany Korta]

Whilst the bandit was obviously concerned about the fate of his friend he seemed to have enough steel to draw a second musket with the aim of shooting Rene. The horse he was riding on must have been much more spooked than his rider for it took a few steps back throwing the bandit’s aim a little wide.

The same sudden movement of the horse must have threw off Father Henri aim for his musket ball went well out of the mark.

 

Muttering under his breath the final (standing) bandit dismounted his horse, muttering about dealing with things himself, before drawing a sabre ready to engage Rene in melee.

[Supercape]

GM

 

"Henri! Don't!" yelled Rene on instinct. The Priest looked like he could handle a pistol, which was an unlikely set of circumstances, and one Rene resolved to ask him about later. But he was drawing fire, and he did not have any magical trinkets to ward of bullets. 

 

He shouted at the men advancing "I could blast you at any time with lightning and fire! haha! Its not bullets you should worry about, its me! And unlike the father here, killing me wont send you to hell!"

 

To emphasise his point, still behind the tree, he swung his arm and eye over the landscape, another furious crackle of lightning wandering with it, sparks flying and bright light illuminating the many shapes and shadows of the forest. 

 

He could only hope his ruse worked, and the bandits did the sensible thing of firing at him...

[Tiffany Korta]

Shocked by lightning the last rider on horseback looked almost ready to join his companion in unconsciousness and the fight had seemed to have gone out of him now that there prey wasn’t quite so harmless.

The leader of this little bandit group didn’t seem as ready to quit, or intimidated by Rene’s sorcery. Instead he advance on the Frenchman with an apparently deadly intent, wielding the sword like he knew exactly what he was doing.

<“I must warn you Frenchmanâ€> he spat the word like an insult <â€That I cannot be killed, in fact you’ll be the only one being killed today.â€>

 

The attack when it came wasn’t particularly fancy or precise, but it was carried out with a deadly intent.

Edited February 7, 2014 by TiffanyKorta

[Supercape]

"Gah! Shot at once, shot at twice, now skewered!" gasped Rene as the blade twisted into his shoulder. The pain crept forth, widening his eyes, shortening his breath, and felling him to his knees. 

 

He felt the soak of blood crawl forth, like a flower opening, onto his cloth. 

 

With an effort he leaned backwards, and took a few kneeling steps in reverse, so the blade would not slice him in two, or poke so far in that it would go right through him. 

 

Rene was no physician, but he was pretty sure he heard a crack in his clavicle. 

 

His right hand went up to his left shoulder, and felt the wetness. At least, he considered, it was not fountaining out as was wont when an artery had parted. He had seen such throwing of claret in the ward, and an ill omen it was for the pipes that burst so. 

[Tiffany Korta]

Stepping out of the carriage his robes swirling around him Father Henri bought his slightly unwieldy weapon around in a sweep to point at the still standing bandit.

“Normally I am a man of faith and peace, but as the bible commands I will execute great vengeance upon them with furious rebukes.â€

With another puff of smoke the bullet struck true and the bandit staggered backward, but it didn;t seem to produce a wound. With what Rene had seen in the last few years maybe the man was immortal?

But they didn’t have much time to consider such thing as the Bandit raised his own musket and fired back at the young priest.

“Did I not tell you Father that no one can kill me, Napoleon's best couldn’t do the job and I doubt you can either.â€

 

His own shot hit true and stuck the priests shoulder, though the Priest showed no sign of pain at a possible wound.

[Supercape]

"Zut Alors! The man is charmed to bullets!" decided Rene. "Unfortunately, I am not!" he realised, angrily, nursing the recent memory of being shot, and the present pain of just being stabbed in the shoulder. He unconsciously rubbed the Iron ring on his finger. As tough as iron, he told himself. Perhaps he needed to be tougher still. 

 

"And yet, there is no need to hurt you, Sir! We would just ask you questions! And walk away without being punctured by bullet and blade. I share the good Father's disinclination to violence!" and so was the truth. The horrors of the revolution were still painted into his skull. 

 

With a whip of his hand brought upright, like the growth of corn, a sapling sprung from the ground beneath the bandit, all wooden splinters, limbs, branches, like a basket or cage being grown around him. 

[Tiffany Korta]

The bandit stepped to one side at just the right moment though not quite quick enough as his feet were caught up in the forming wickerwork. Which was a shame because otherwise the shot from Father Henri’s pistol would have been a perfect hit, instead it struck the tree causing a shower of splinters.

 

With his legs bound up in the roots it did limit his movements and dispite his best effort his couldn’t move towards Rene properly and his sword blows wasn’t able to connect and cause Rene any more harm.

[Supercape]

"Confound you!" said Rene, his shoulder still smarting. For all his sorcery, the bandit was faster. 

 

"Cant see the wood from the trees?" he asked the bandit again, a wiggle of his eyebrows and a thin smile mocking the man. This time, he roped his hands together and spread them, making the wood start to bend, grow, and twist. 

 

But not the same as before. 

 

The time, the wood splintered, fired off like a crossbow bolt, huge gnarled roots, limbs, and shards that swept towards the bandit leader like massive cudgels, tumbling and spinning. This time, there would be no escape...

 

"I'll not be beaten by the likes of you, cur!" explained Rene, determined to take victory rather than  bullets and swords. 

[Tiffany Korta]

The Bandit leader seemed to have so far lived a charm life being able to dodge and avoid most of what Rene and Father Henri could throw at him. But even his luck couldn’t avoid the large chunks of tree being thrown at him.

“You can’t stop me I’m invuln...â€

 

With that he finally crumpled to the ground. The forest was then silent apart from the gently raining of wood back onto the road the coach had so unceremoniously left.

[Supercape]

Rene heaved a big sigh and clutched his shoulder. 

 

"I am not a young man anymore. War and bloodshed has lost its youthful appeal" he said, limping back to Father Henri. 

 

"Once, the flower of youth marched for glory. And met with tears and wailing. There is no glory in war, no credit in fighting for country or God, Father" 

 

He sat down on the broken coach. 

 

"And now, we have no coach. Unless you are a carpenter as well as a priest, I think we must ride the rest of the journey and pray that God does not bless us with rain from his heavens"

 

He cast a look back at the bandit leader. 

 

"But first, I think we should tie up our bandito here, and make sure he is fully disarmed"

 

Tying up the man was accomplished with the leather reins of the coach and horses. then, Rene patted the man down thoroughly. There was plenty of chance that the brigand could have a stilleto in his boot, or a garrotte in his belt. 

 

And then, Rene slapped him awake. Not to hard. But not gentle either. 

 

"Bandito! Awaken! It is time to tell us who you are, and why you haunt us!"

[Tiffany Korta]

The bandit looked up at Rene with defiance, and maybe a hint of fear in his face. He seemed to be considering what he could say,obviously there was more going on than just a simple bandit raid. Finally he seem to make up his mind and replied to the  Frenchman

 

“I’ll make no excuses to you I’m a bandit pure and simple. Other will try to hang me, like before, or use Madame Guillotine. But the only reason I’m so far out here is because strange things are going on in the nearby town. It’s  now cut itself off from the outside world.â€

[Supercape]

"It is an ill time for Bandits" replied Rene, softening his face. 

 

"An ill time to break the law, with France so bloody. Why take this precarious path?" he asked. 

 

But more importantly...

 

"What say say you about the town? Cut off? The war, the revolution, is over, although its scars are deep and not easily forgotten. Is it the shadows and echoes of war, or something else? a plague? tell me truthfully now, the need for deception is over. Whilst I do not take well to bullets, I would spare you my anger, such as it is, if you tell the tale with looser tongue than you have granted me thus far!"

[Tiffany Korta]

“The town did it to themselves. they have barricades the gates and the guards have shot at those that got too close.†he shuddered “They use to be so friendly to all comers, though of course i didn’t tell them what I did, and they happily took my francs.â€

Sometime when people talked of thing surreal or supernatural they world seemed to go quiet around Rene. As if the world itself was quietly listening to what was being said, it was a foolish man who didn't pay attention to such signs.

“It started months ago when one of the women in the town, Carme i think she was called, started to perform what the people called miracles. From then on each time I visited the town they seemed less friendly more distant.â€

[Supercape]

A sinking feeling hit Rene's gut. This had the all too familiar narrative of woman scapegoated as a local witch. But then, there were witches too. And worse. Gallia, for instance. 

 

"A sorry tale. And too common for my palate. Bloody times bleeds bloody men. Fearful times breed fear. Such is the cost of liberty, and it was high" he replied, lost in thought. 

 

"Then this town is one I should see with mine own eyes. You have done me the disservice of wrecking my carriage. I am sure my friend Father Henri is for forgiving, but I shall be forgiven I am sure for being less inclined so. How do you care to recompense me? Carry me piggy back? Or shall your rear end receive my boot?" he asked, forcefully. 

[Tiffany Korta]

“That the think they don’t see her as a witch, more like some kind of living saint.They protect her and almost worship her like some kind of god. And that ain’t natural.†he gave a little shudder at that, apparently despite all he was a god fearing man.

 

“It also the closest town to here, you looking at over a day to the next one so unless you plan to let us all go you going to have to take us there. We have some horses hidden in a grove just up here.†he waved in the general direction.