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Scene: The Attack on the Cells

Writer: @ninasilverwrites Beta/Editor: none (open) Episode: 27 (The Path to Whitestone) Summary: Percy’s past collides with his present and Greyskull Keep is attacked from within.

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It begins with the nightmare.

Percy is no stranger to dark dreams, sometimes he wonders if perhaps his entire existence these last years has been nothing but a dream…that maybe he is still in that cell, slowly withering to dust, dreaming of a life outside of the blood soaked halls of his childhood. Surely one can never leave such horrors behind for good.

Tonight’s vision though, it comes with a force that hasn’t been present in years, the images tearing through him like daggers through silk. Julius the blood spilling dark and thick from his mouth. Vesper, caught forever between life and death, the fabric of her dress fanned out around her as if she were suspended in water instead of hurtling to her death, her mouth open in a silent scream. The faces of his two youngest brothers, lips parted, eyes glassy and unseeing. The sound of his mother’s screams echoing through the black empty cold of his cell, going on and on and on until he’s no longer sure what life was before the sound.

And always, always Cassandra. Her face pressed to the bars of his cell, her fingers shaking as she turns the key in the lock, her hand in his, the beat of their hearts thrumming through his fingertips, the expression on her face as the first arrow plunges into her chest. Sometimes when he looks at her he sees pain, sometimes surprise, but most often of all it is the accusation in her eyes that undoes him, the betrayal hot and heavy in the back of his throat. The hatred. He wishes he could tell her that she shouldn’t waist energy on hating him, he does enough of that for the both of them.

Tonight she reaches for him, a bright crimson bubble blooming at the corner of her mouth. Her hands are slick with blood and he reaches back, unable to stop himself. For a moment their finger’s touch and then the second arrow hits, throwing her backward, the third arrow driving itself through her heart before she can hit the ground. He takes a stumbling step back, glancing down and discovering that he’d been wrong before, its his hands that are covered in her blood, in the blood of all the people who have loved him and paid the price. He chokes, the smell of death and gore overwhelming him as the light around him winks out into blackness.

The sky explodes into flames. All around him the world burns, towers of molten iron send gouts of black smoke into the sky, the air is thick with cinders and ash that sting his eyes and burn his lungs. The wind begins to howl and Percy throws up his hands to shield his face from he sudden maelstrom. Before him a figure swirls into being, face a twisted mass of curling smoke, eyes burning like coals. When it grins its twisted grin he is caught between horror and elation, a giddy longing for he knows not what.

“You hold your vengeance Percival.” It growls, “You made it. You only need to take it for yourself.” The deep timber of its voice rumbling through his chest like a concussive blast. And Percy finds that he is shaking, not this time in fear, but in elation.

“Make the world right.” The creature breathes, “My gift is yours, and your gift shall bring justice. Our bargain stands eager to close.” All around them the fires rise, filling the air with searing heat, the smoke grows denser and denser, the blackness overwhelming until—

Percy jerks awake with a gasp, the heat from a world in flames still pressing into his skin…but, no, as he pulls in an unsteady breath the room resolves itself around him. The workshop, cluttered, close, and familiar. The warmth of the dying forge soothing on his sweat slicked skin. He pushes stiffly back from the workbench where he’d dropped off mid project, hands tugging at thick leather gloves, fingers happy to be free of their confines.

“How long have I been here?” He says, startling himself by saying the words aloud to the empty room. His voice is rough from lack of use and he coughs twice to shake the gravel loose. Twenty-four hours? Longer? And what of the others? Had they left him alone out of deference of his wishes, or because they don’t know how to look him in the eye? He knows he owns them a better explanation than he’s so far managed to give, but how can he tell them without damning himself. without exposing the truth of what he is, of what he yearns to be…

Blowing out a long breath he stands and pulls the leather apron off, laying it carefully over the in-progress projects on his workbench. Baby steps. He’ll go upstairs and get a cup of tea, then figure out what’s next. Crossing to the door he pulls it back in one smooth motion and steps into the hall. The chair across from him, the place where he’d last seen Jarett is empty. If he wasn’t so sleep deprived and distracted it might have taken less than two full heartbeats for him to understand what he was seeing.

The first heartbeat.

Jarett is several feet to his left, standing, or so Percy first believes, in the middle of the hall. His hands are raised to his throat, his face purple with strain. A strange gurgling sound is escaping from his bluing lips. Just over his shoulder Percy can see the young carriage driver just beginning to rise to his feet. Something in Percy’s gut lurches sickly at the sight of the young man’s bloody bandages but there isn’t time because…

The second heartbeat.

Jarett’s feet dangle several inches above the floor, they kick weakly as he struggles against the unseen assailant, but the fight is going out of the man’s eyes and finally Percy understands.

Several things happen at once.

“Help! Help help!” The words rip themselves out of his throat before he even knows he’s going to say them. If he had time to reflect he might find it strange that his first instinct is to reach out to his companions, to trust that their help is never far away, no matter what appearances might tell him. Time however is precious and faster than thought Percy is already pulling the pepperbox from his hip, thumb sliding back the hammer with practiced ease. The moment his fingers meet the familiar steel the world snaps into sharper focus. He knows what to do and already he is dropping to one knee.

CRACK!

The first shot slides below Jarett’s twitching feet and finds purchase in the flesh of attacking creature. The guardsman drops like a stone, his knees crashing into the rough stone floor, his hands going to his throat, as if they can hasten the ragged gasps of air he is pulling in greedily. Without waisting time to ask stupid questions Percy raises the sights of the pepper box and squeezes off two more shots, this time over Jarett’s head. Both bullets hit their mark and tiny storm of angry wind rages. The creature, barely visible in swirling dust and grit of the empty hallway screams in anger and pain.

“HELP!” Percy roars, his fingers already priming the next shot, “Vex! Tiberius! ANYONE!”

Two more blurs of spinning air rush into the hall, one advancing towards Percy, the other screaming towards the shaking figure in the cell. The closer of the two creatures lashes out and what feels like a pillar of stone drives itself into Percy’s ribs. Grunting in pain he wrenches his body sideways as the second blow descends, feeling the gust of frigid air his past his face as he narrowly avoids the impact. At the end of the hallway the prisoner lets out a hoarse cry that ends in a gurgled gasp.

Then, seemingly from out of nowhere, a brown rush of fury and teeth crashes into the creature in front of Percy. Trinket lets out a might growl and lunges. Meeting no resistance he stumbles briefly then turns and lets loose a furious swipe, wicked claws extended, and finds purchase. The monster shrieks in pain and Percy has never been so happy to see the huge bear in his life. In the momentary confusion Jarret lurches to his feet and scrambles for the cell at the end of the hall, fingers fumbling for the key to the door. Percy tears his attention from the far end of the hall as the growling whirlwind before him advances. Beside him Trinket lets out a low rumble, his hackles rising.

“Help!” Percy calls one last time, but his aching ribs make finding enough breath for shouting nearly impossible. “Hurry.” He breathes, then tightens the grip on the pistol in his hand.

###

Dawn is just beginning to spark against the night sky to the east as the band of mud splattered adventures make their way down the winding road to Greyskull Keep.

“All I’m saying,” Scanlan says, shrugging lightly. “Is that we should consider the potential uses of cow camouflage more often.”

Catching her brother’s eye, Vex lets out a long sigh as Tiberius and Scanlan launch into a detailed discussion of the finer points of using cows as subterfuge. She loses the conversation somewhere past the third sentence. She’s tired and all she wants in the world is to give Trinket a good scratch behind the ears and go to bed. They approach the gate and she is about to call up to the guard to let them in when the muffled sound of gunshots echoes out of the Keep. There is half a breath of frozen uncertainty while they all stare at each other in confusion. Then she is moving, yelling up to the wall.

“SHADE! The gate!!” To her left Tiberius zips into the air, unwilling to wait for the heavy oak doors to open. The moment there is enough room Vex and the others throw themselves through, sprinting towards the source of the sound.

“I’m sure he’s just tinkering with something.” Scanlan calls, but she’s already gone.

###

Its too much too quickly.

Percy fights for breath, the ache in his chest still pulsing through him. The creature is closer now, to close to shoot. A brief surge of inspiration rushes through him as remembers the gauntlet then dies just as quickly as he sees the spent crystal, dark and unhelpful in its setting. Gritting his teeth, Percy leans back, trying to give the pepperbox enough room. Even as he’s pulling the trigger he knows its not enough. He feels the jam before the flare of flame and smoke rushes out of the side of the barrel, the impact of the explosion dislodging the barrel from the housing.

Swearing colorfully under his breath and dropping the pepper box from singed fingers he acts without thinking, reaching behind his shoulder for Bad News. In one fluid motion he swings the long gun up and over his body to come crashing into the side of the monster’s head. The impact is enough to knock the creature into the stone wall. For a heart stopping moment he thinks maybe he’s broken the gun, but a cursory examination shows no damage.

His momentary distraction is all it takes for the creature to retaliate. He manages to duck its first blow but the second one catches him across the face. The world flares white for a moment and when he blinks his eyes clear a face looms in the air before him. It is shimmering and stretched, ever shifting and fluid, and when it bears its teeth at him the shudder of a remembered dream passes through him.

There is a thunderous roar and for the second time in the last 5 minutes Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III is saved by a charging bear. Trinket’s massive form hurtles into the creature before him, ripping it away, dispersing the snarling face.

Looking up, still trying to regain his focus, Percy catches sight of the battle in the cell beyond. The carriage driver is struggling with an unseen assailant and Jarett has leaped upon its back in an attempt to pull it off the boy. The result is a bizarre dance between flesh and air and Percy begins to wonder if he’d been hit harder than first thought. With a mighty cry the guardsman heaves himself back, the mussels in his forearms straining against nothing as he pulls the creature back away from the prisoner.

A voice echoes down the stone stairway and for a horrible moment Percy things its more of the creatures. Then an arrow seems to sprout from thin air a few inches from Jarett’s left hand and Percy knows they aren’t alone. The relief that surges through him is staggering and clouds his already shaky vision for a brief moment. By the time he blinks his eyes clear Grog’s looming form is bursting into the hall with a mighty yell, blood and water flowing from his upraised fist.

Time seems to speed up. Vax dissolves out of the shadows to his left and strikes the creature next to Trinket with three flashes of gleaming steel almost too fast to see. Tiberius flies into the room, robes fluttering behind him like a banner, and unleashes a torrent of icy power that sends both creatures staggering. There is a blast of purple light just inside the workshop door and Percy turns toward it more on instinct than intention. Scanlan meets his gaze, the gnome’s face tight with concern and concentration, and begins to speak. Its hard to hear over the ringing in his ears but as Percy watches his friend speak, warmth surges through him, a surety and confidence that he can, in fact, keep going. Its enough.

With a grunt he heaves himself off the wall and scoops up the broken pepperbox. Its a lost cause however, the barrel fully detaches in his hands, so he tosses it aside for later and raises the muzzle of Bad News. Fire infuses his steps and three strides bring him to the nearer of the two creatures. He walks forward until the barrel of the riffle is jammed into the invisible flesh and without a word he pulls the trigger in one sure stroke. A gout of flame boils forth with a sound like thunder and the creature explodes into a wreath of smoke and fractured sound, its dying cry high and keening. Without taking a moment to think he pivots on his heel and sights down the still glowing barrel at the second creature struggling in Jarett’s arms. His second shot is louder still and he is vaguely aware of Tibs somewhere above him swearing and swerving to avoid the blast of heat. He’ll apologize later. The shot lands true but the pain of it seems to only fuel the creatures desperate rage because it shakes of Jarett at last and lunges for the carriage driver. The force of its first blow lifts the boy off his feet, slamming him into the iron celling of the cell and the second slams him awkwardly back down onto the little cot, his body limp as a rag doll, a flow of blood staining his hairline just above his left ear.

With a cry Jarett pulls out his short sword and strikes, but his arms shake from the strain of trying to hold the creature for so long and the swing goes wild. Somewhere behind them Vex gets off another shot, lodging weirdly in thin air and writhing with the creature’s movement. At the same moment tiny purple sparks of light explode from the ceiling, drifting down and clinging to the shaking form, revealing a humanoid torso and legs that shift and slid to fast for thought. Behind it on the bed the young man shudders and drags in a labored breath. Percy glances over and sees Keyleth, her hands outstretched, the remnants of soft, life-giving magic still dancing across the tips of her fingers.

In front of him Grog barks a laugh and says,

“There you are! Hold still Caspar!” And swings his heavy axe down in a mighty arc. One, two, three blows find their target and the creature is thrown back against the bars with crushing force. Percy blinks, and where a moment before there had been nothing but empty space beyond the iron bars now Vax is there, one arm yanking the creature back. The first blow deflects off the bars but the second and third land true and the creature screams, exploding into rush of wind.

There is a long moment in which they catch their collective breath and then Vax’s face breaks into a wide grin. Reaching out he slaps a hand on the Goliath’s broad shoulder and says,

“Grog! You softened him up for me asshole!” With a grin the Barbarian returns his Great Axe to the sheath at his back, satisfaction clear on his face. In the cell the figure not he bed stirs, slowly pulling himself into a sitting position. Tiberius hurries forward, on hand outstretched.

“Desmond! Its a decker sandwich, I made it myself! You should have it.”

Without a sound the young man takes the sandwich and clutches it to his chest in shaking hands.

“What happened?” He croaks, “What—“

“Here.” Vex shoulders past Tiberius, shooting him a bemused look, and crouches down before the carriage driver. Reaching out one hand she lightly touches his shaking arm. The others watch as the few remaining cuts and bruises fade away, leaving the young man frightened, but mostly intact.

“Is it safe?” Scanlan calls out from the workshop door, “Can I come out now?”

“Better not,” Vax replays with a wicked grin, “There are like four more of them.”

“Oh. OK.” The gnome replies, and slips back out of sight.

Vex opens her mouth to say something but then Grog lifts his wet and bleeding hands and starts flicking holy water and blood over the young man seated on the bed. The rest of the party stops and looks at him.

“What? I’m blessing him. That’s a thing right? No point in letting this holy water go to waste.”

Tiberius sights and with a flick of his hand cleans the spatter away. “Pardon me, he doesn’t know our customs very well. How is that sandwich?”

Desmond seems not to notice either the blood or its removal.

“W—what was that? What was that thing?”

“Yeah,” Grog echoes. “What was that?”

Vex nods in agreement. Tiberius huffs,

“I would say opaque buttholes.”

“Wait a moment,” Vax interjects, “I’ve seen these before, they’re…invisible stalkers.”

Tiberius brightens, recalling some paragraph read long ago,

“Ah! Of course, hight level mages use them as assassins, they are singleminded in purpose and damn near unstoppable.” The slightly jovial air in the room born from great relief evaporates. After a tense moment Vax says,

“All I know is they feel like the Briarwoods.”

Vex frowns at her brother, something like frustrated concern clouding her features.

“With all this previous experience,” She says, strain evident on the last two words, “do you know how to ward against them?” Vex shakes his head, offering a slightly sheepish quirk of the lips.

“All I know is how to stick my face into beehives apparently.” Vex cocks an eyebrow in agreement then turns to the others.

“Does anybody know how to protect against these stalkers?”

“Give me a day, I will find out.” Tiberius says, his mind already beginning to form lists and research points. Off to the side Jarett lets out a long breath, his face twisting in discomfort, one hand braced against the stone wall.

“I would recommend, the next time you put me on watch, you let me know if we are up against things that are invisible.” His words come out sharper than intended and he straightens, offering them a nod. “I apologize, i was not prepared for such a foe to show up.”

Vex stands and moves over to him.

“We were unprepared to warn you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Jarett sighs, “Um, if I might ask, what exactly are we up against here?”

“Fuck if we know.” Grog huffs, crossing his arms over his massive chest.

“It seems,” Tiberius says thoughtfully, “we’re up against either vampires or litches. Prepare the troops, there will be some changes to the keep in the next couple of days, to shore up security.” Jarett nods but adds smoothly,

“I would like to discuss also making some changes to our income as this has suddenly gone from a general guarding job to going up against denizens of the afterlife.”

Vex doesn’t even try to had the smirk that crosses her face

“Of course.” Tiberius says airily “We shall discuss that later in the morning.”

“Very well.” Jarett says, starting for the door, “I’m going to make sure the rest of my team is…alive.” As he begins to move away Vax calls out,

“Jarett? Are you up for it?” Jarett looks back over his shoulder, his usual dry humor fully restored.

“I mean, if the pay is good, yes.”

“It will be.” Vex assures him.

“Jarett’s up for anything.” Vex adds with a little saucy smile. Jarett laughs and taps the side of his nose.

“You understand.” Then with a little grimace as he pulls sore ribs the wrong way finishes “I will talk to you in the morning. I think a bit of rest is in order.” He waves and heads up the stairs and out of sight.

In the cell, a shaken Desmond starts eating the sandwich in tentative bites.

“Its good right?” Tiberius says brightly. “I had one yesterday. Come, we’ll move you to the guest room.” Vex hesitates,

“Maybe we should stay down here…”

“No.” Tiberius says firmly. “Come on.” He gestures toward Desmond. The boy doesn’t move, just looks at them with frightened eyes.

“Is it safer there?” He asks shakily, “I told you they would come for me.“

“Yes you did.” Vex says softly.

“I told you.” He says again, seeming not to hear her.

“But you know what?” Vex says, her normal vibrato seeming too large for the space they’re in, “you’re still alive!”

Desmond blinks up at her, the slowly reaches one hand up and absently rubs at the side of his face where the drying blood is beginning to flake and itch. The red angry scar of his missing fingers vibrant against his pale skin.

Vax sits down next to him, close enough to speak quietly, but not so close to make the young man nervous.

“Listen,” He says softly, looking the boy in the eye, “you are a victim of circumstance, we understand that. We are to a certain degree as well. We’re not leaving your side, and really there’s no other choice.” He shrugs apologetically and glances at the others. “You’re kinda fucked like we are, so we’ll do our best to protect you. I promise you.”

Desmond holds his gaze for a long moment then seems to resign himself to the inevitable.

“OK.”

“I volunteer to sleep down here with him in the room.” Grog offers suddenly. Tiberius shakes his head.

“He’ll sleep in my quarters.”

“Is it safer down here?” Vex says, glancing at her brother.

“In a locked cell with Grog?” Vex says, “That’s pretty safe.” But she frowns at him.

“I think its better to bring him up stairs,” She says. “if the door is locked we can’t get to him very quickly.”

“We can enchant his room as well, to alert us if anything should happen.” Tiberius adds confidently. “I shall be sleeping in my laboratory for the next several nights as well.”

“I can also use my plainer binding to summer an elemental guard,” Keyleth pipes up from her spot by the door, a frown creases the smooth skin between her brows. “Maybe I should have done that before…”

“It wouldn’t have helped,” Vex says, “they were invisible.”

“I like all these things,” Vax adds, “but I still think Grog as a bunk mate is a good idea.” The others start to discuss the situation amongst themselves and Desmond takes advantage of their distraction to lean into Vax and whispers.

“Is where I’m sleepin’ going to be away from him?” Vax follows his line of vision and sees Percy leaning against the far wall. His face is drawn and hard, smudged with soot and blood. He looks exhausted, with dark bruise like shadows under his eyes, but Vax can tell from the stubborn set of his shoulders that the Gunslinger has no intention of resting any time soon. Frowning unhappily Vax turns back the the boy beside him.

“There is a lot of history for Percy wrapped up in this, and he has done you wrong, No question, but…” He struggles for the right words, unsure how to convince the boy of things he, himself, isn’t sure of. Perhaps it is best to leave the why for another day. He looks Desmond in the eye, willing him to understand the truth of his words.

“The answer is yes,” He says firmly. “You will be separate from Percival, you will be protected, and you have my word.” There is a brief pause then Desmond nods.

“OK. I trust you.” Tears spring into the young mans eyes as the events of the last few days begin to truly catch up with him. “Please, please don’t let them kill me.” Vax reaches out and places a warm hand on his shoulder.

“We may be fuckups, but we’re not without ability, you have my word.”

“OK.”

“Desmond dear,” Vex says, arriving suddenly in front of them, her keen eyes catch her brother for a moment then turn to the carriage driver. “Let’s get you upstairs.” As she helps him to his feet she calls over her shoulder. “Grog.”

“What?” The Goliath rumbles.

“That bed, needs to go back up to the guest room.” She says, ushering Desmond out of the cell and to the stone stairs. As they pass Percy the boy flinches away and Vax sees the older man’s mouth tighten into a grim line.

“Fuckin’ hell…” Grog grumbles in the back as he begins to wrestle the bed out of the cell.

Vax follows his sister but stops beside Keyleth who is watching Percy head back down toward his workshop without a word. Vax clears his throat.

“Is your hand alright?” He asks gently.

“Yes.” Keyleth doesn’t look at him, her eyes still on the now closed door at the end of the hall.

“Do you need anything?” He tries again, less hopefully.

“Nope.” The Druid says, and still refusing to look at him she starts up the stairs after the others. Grimacing to himself Vax follows her out of the hall.

Below, behind the shelter of his closed door, Percy lets out a long shaking breath. For a moment he simply stands in the quiet of his workroom, willing the shaking in his hands to cease, then he leans down and picks up the broken pepperbox and crosses to his bench. There is so much work to be done. And this one thing is for sure.

He will not be caught off guard again.

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