17. Escape From Brumehold Prison, Part 2

“Detective Darc. What a surprise.” the man’s guttural voice growled. About 30 feet in front of Rosalyn, standing in front of her escape route, stood an elderly Cannon Knight with a longsword at his side and a wizened scowl on his face.

“Deputy Chief Langstrom…” Rosalyn mumbled. “Please, let me pass. I don’t mean any harm to you or your Knights… I just came here for information.”

“Nobody leaves Brumehold Prison, Detective.” he said as he unsheathed his Cannonsword from its scabbard, revealing its reflective bronze blade and thick hilt with a small cannon on the end. “You’ve committed several crimes here today. And while you are the Chief’s ally, even you aren’t above the law.”

“You left me no choice!” Rosalyn spat. “Elliott’s disappearance is still unsolved. Catherine needs to hear the truth, someone needs to speak reason to her before she destroys this city!”

Langstrom let out a sly chuckle. “I think this city will be much better off, Detective.” he hissed, stroking his fingers along the polished blade of his weapon. “I know you want to stop Catherine’s crusade. Deny her the right to revenge… but I can’t let that happen. The Ghost Whales, the Mysticet… relics, of an older time. Chains, that need to be cast off.” Langstrom said as he suddenly pointed his blade at Rosalyn, the shimmering metal making a loud shwing as it cut through the air.

Rosalyn’s eyes widened as she took a step. “You… you don’t want peace, do you? You want war.”

Langstrom’s lips curled into a grin. “Fogport needs to evolve, Detective. The riches in store for this city, once we cast off our bonds… I wish you could be around to see it.”

“Catherine isn’t like you. She’ll see reason, she’ll see mercy.” Rosalyn spat.

Langstrom laughed. “You underestimate the hate in Catherine’s heart. Her fuse is lit, Rosalyn, and no ‘friendship’ can stop the explosion that is soon to erupt. But still… I can’t take that chance.”

“Fine then. If you don’t let me out of this Prison, then you have a dozen Officers up there in this tower who are going to die a very painful death.”

The Knight’s eyes widened, before they narrowed into beady slits. “Hmmm. Well. I know what Ink Wizards are capable of, and so I’m honestly inclined to believe you.” he started. “Their sacrifice will surely be remembered.”

Rosalyn gasped as Langstrom turned his hilt to face her, and a blast of hot metal shot fired towards her.

Deputy Chief Langstrom

Class: Cannon Knight

Vim: +1

Vigour: +6

Vitality: +5

Vision: -3

Vanity: -4

Equipment:

-Cannonsword

Attributes:

-Cannoneer’s Strength

-Cannoneer’s Resistance

Cannon Spells:

-Knight’s Magick Cannon

-Cannonball: Roundshot

-Dash of Black Powder

-Fullmetal Jacket

-Magick Defusal

-Cannonball: Spidershot

Advanced Cannon Spells:

-Cannonball: Bombshot

-Magickal Deafening

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-Cannonball: Carcassshot

-Smokestorm

Rosalyn rolled to the side, causing the projectile to hurtle into the wall behind her. The ball of steel erupted into a deafening flash of fire, knocking the Detective to the ground as she felt her cloak catch flame. “SHIT!” she screamed as she rolled across the floor. Just as the flames on her cloak were snuffed out, she watched another explosion erupt under Langstrom’s boots.

Dash of Black Powder

Spell Class: Cannon Spell (Basic)

The caster conjures a small amount of gunpowder nearby - when they choose, this powder explodes and knocks away whatever is close by. While the flames are weak, this concussive blast can launch foes, deflect projectiles, or empower the caster’s physical attacks.

Unlike most disciplines, Cannon Magick was developed by men. Enchanted black powder was the substance used to create the first firearms, and the vocation was developed from there. But it is unclear where the first black powder was discovered… some say it was the ashes of dragons, found deep in a draconic crypt. Others say it was created by Demons from the Boiling Sea to sow destruction amongst humanity. But once humans could synthesize it with magick, the origins no longer mattered. And war would never be the same again.

Langstrom rocketed towards Rosalyn, his Cannonsword raised overhead. As he swung down to cleave her in two, a jet of ink shot out from her own boots and launched her to the side. As the Knight’s sword cut into the burning floor, Rosalyn rose to her feet, and drew her Rapier from her side. I just have to touch him. And then, I can poison him. she thought.

Then, as if Langstrom could read her mind, an iron helmet appeared from thin air, covering every inch of his wrinkled face in metal. “I know your venom, Detective. I’ve killed many an Ink Wizard in my hey-day!” he shouted as he held out the barrel of his cannon, and a gale of smoke began to pour out. Soon, the atrium was drenched in a thick layer of smog, swirling around Rosalyn as she covered her mouth with her cloak.

The Knight had vanished in the smoke, but the Detective only chuckled. This is the best he can do? she thought as all of a sudden, Langstrom’s bronze armour began to glow a bright green, cutting through the cloud of brume just as he swung his blade downwards. Despite the weight of the saber, Rosalyn was able to deflect it to the side. Then a Black Tendril emerged from her left hand, wrapping around Langstrom’s weapon and pinning it to the floor.

And with her Inkchanted Rapier delicately aimed at one of the eyeholes in Langstrom’s helm, she thrust.

Langstrom moved his head to the side just in time to avoid being blinded, and with brutish strength he tore his blade free of Rosalyn’s spell, severing the spectral tentacle and sending inky blood through the smoke. “AH!” Rosalyn screamed as the pain of the tendril coursed through her, causing her to lurch forward as Langstrom aimed the Cannonsword at her head.

Another explosive blast sent her flying backwards - but as Langstrom laughed like a barbarous fiend, Rosalyn emerged from the smoke. Unharmed. Langstrom’s laugh turned to a twisted scowl as he saw the calcified shell that had formed around his foe’s body. “You’re not the only one with armour, Langstrom.” she hissed.

“YOU BRAT!” the Knight screamed as he fired another cannonball, which Rosalyn tanked easily. But when the metal shattered against her magick shell, it didn’t release fire or smog - instead, a putrid yellow gas leaked from the shrapnel, surrounding her.

What the… oh God… Rosalyn began to cough incessantly, as a horrible sulfuric smell began to overtake her sinuses. She could feel the sinews in her nose peel and rot, causing blood to stream out onto her face and down into her throat. Instinctively, she covered her face with her cloak, but still her face continued to burn. Despite being covered in shell, the fetid gas was somehow leaking into her pores, and she could feel her skin start to burn.

Cannonball: Carcassshot

Spell Class: Cannon Spell (Advanced)

The caster fires a round of ammunition from their Magick Cannon: a cannonball that spills forth a deadly sulfuric gas, which burns the skin of all it touches and rots the lungs of those with the misfortune of breathing it in. This gas can be dispelled at any time, and be kept from entering the lungs of the caster.

While most Cannon Knights were satisfied with their explosive toys, some grew intrigued by a more brutal form of warfare. Based on the poison of the Acid Witches, who practice their alchemical arts deep in the Elodean Jungles, the Carcassshot was created to destroy both men and ships from within. Although when the Knights would loot the ships hit by their Carcassshots, they would be horrified by the decaying bodies they had left behind, and the spell quickly became taboo.

Rosalyn hacked into her cloak, petrified in pulmonary agony. Langstrom laughed as he dashed forward, swinging his longsword into Rosalyn’s shelled head and sending her flying across the atrium. CRACK.

Only with great effort did Rosalyn rise back to her feet. She could feel a crack in the shell on the side of her head… the spell was already weakening. Her arms and legs felt rubbery. I can’t keep this up… I have to get out of here. Rosalyn thought as she looked over towards the open gate leading out of the Prison. The drawbridge was long and thin - even if she ran, Langstrom could snipe her from within the Prison. And if she dove into the Misty Sea, there was a considerable risk she would drown.

“Had enough, Detective?”

“I’m… I’m not giving up…I’ll stop you, and then I’ll bring Catherine the truth.” Rosalyn groaned. “Maybe I’ll bring YOU to her myself, and she can deal with you.”

Langstrom laughed. “Even if you deal with me and Catherine, there are events in motion that even you can’t stop. This goes higher up than you could imagine, Detective.”

What does he mean? Is this really all about just getting some dock built on the North Beach? No, no… what’s their endgame? Rosalyn puzzled as she struggled to stay upright - even out of the poison gas, she could feel the traces of it in her lungs, ripping through the flesh.

Langstrom dashed again, swinging his blade at Rosalyn, who held out her rapier again. But rather than successfully parry, her blade was knocked out of her hand and sent clattering to the far corner of the smoky entrance hall. And now, unarmed, Rosalyn’s shell began to disintegrate. “Any last tricks, witch?” Langstrom spat as he held his blade out towards Rosalyn, ready to cleave her in twain the instant her armour completely vanished.

Suddenly, the room went dark.