A Conjuror's journey

"Port 'neath the bow!" Cries the boy atop the mast. "Prepare to dock!"

As the mooring lines are drawn from the hold, you look out over the railing to the city below. Miles of sprawling buildings stretch along the edge of a wide river. In the center of the waters lies a palace, surrounded by extensive fortifications and accessible only by crossing a mile long bridge.

"We're really doing this?" Louise asks as the two of you prepare to disembark the sky-ship. "I-I don't know if I can... What if-"

Ruffling her hair, you smile reassuringly. "Worry not, I believe in you." Platitude expressed, you brace for impact. Seconds later, the deck rocks and mist soars skyward as the ship splashes into the river. Catching Louise as she stumbles, you nod at her thanks and head toward the captain to buy her silence.

"Hail, Mrs. Adelind." You say to the dark skinned woman. "I believe payment is in order, yes?"

Looking down at you, the captain crosses her arms and leans against the rail. "You already paid... I don't accept bribery."

"Of course not." You say, retracting your hand from your coin-purse. "Forgive me, my memory must be getting cloudy from age."

Laughing, the woman waves a leather-clad arm in the direction of your apprentice. "None of my crew will say a word, we Germanian's don't much care for pink... If you catch my meaning." Nodding as if you understand, you head back to Louise and guide her down the ramps into the market district. You're fairly certain that the captain was implying foul play of some sort, kidnapping at the least.

"Wow, this place looks just like Tristainia." Louise says as she peers into a nearby shop. In a way, she is correct. Most of the building have a similar architecture to them as Tristain's buildings, though little differences are apparent if you are observant. In tristain, the people would frequently set out flowers and leave their windows open, while Albion's people seem to prefer barricading themselves inside. The houses seem almost colorless if you ignore the slight orange tint of the tiles on the roof.

Looking around as Louise prattles on about confectioneries and such, you notice that all of the paths that branch off of the main road are barely wide enough for three people to walk shoulder to shoulder. The building have this strange design where each floor is larger than the one below it, the city guards seem to prefer rooftop patrols with crossbows rather than patrolling the streets below, and the buildings become more densly packed the further you get from the market square.

"-ven listening to me?!" Louise whines after half an hour of walking through narrow streets.

Turning toward your apprentice, you shake your head. "Of course not." You say, earning yourself a huff of annoyance. "It would do you well to be more observant of your surrounding, apprentice... you do know why we are here."

"O-oh... right." She says, donning a focused expression. It doesn't last long. "What am I supposed to be observing exactly?"

Sighing, you point at the bridge that is visible from between two buildings. "How many supports are holding up that stone monstrosity?"

"Wha- er... The bridge?" She asks, receiving a nod. "One, two.... fifteen?"

Nodding again, you ask, "And what would happen if we removed all of them on this side of the river?"

"The bridge would break and they'd stop receiving supplies!" Louise exclaims, earning a bop on the head with your staff. "Ow... What was that for?"

"Do not shout such incriminating things." You reprimand. "Yes the structure would collapse, but they more than likely have other methods of moving goods, such as those flying ships or even levitation spells."

Rubbing her scalp, the girl pouts. "Then what was the point of asking?"

"Important details for our planning. Just because they might have a solution, that does not mean it would not be an inconvenience to them. Now we must find a base of operations." You explain before striding away from the river-front.

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Two hours later, you are in the cellar of an abandoned farmhouse on the outskirts of the city. Louise has started using the cellar doors as a practice target for her attempts at the Ice Wall spell and the chaurus are happily munching on an old feather bed.

Create a plan of action.
[]Write in.

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A/N: I am partially basing Londinium off of the real world counterpart but with some more fantastical elements, just as many of the characters and locations are in the show.

This is the basic structure of the city, with the story Londinium being more densly packed and the open square closer to the river.
The multi-island portion is replaced by a singular island with barracks, fortified walls, and a palace.

Francis Baker was the youngest son of the Londinium Baker family.

At the age of sixteen, Francis had had an epiphany. Let the rest of his siblings continue the family tradition, Francis was going to join the Albion army and get away from this life of mediocrity. Of course things didn't turn out exactly as he had planned.

"How can a baker's son be so scrawny?" They asked. "You couldn't even carry the armor!" They ridiculed. Being thrown back out onto the Tudor bridge, it seemed as though his new career would end before it began. That is, until Francis noticed the polished boots if front of his face.

"I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with the gatekeepers." A voice sounded from above. Looking up with an embarrassed blush on his face, Francis was greeted by a silver haired man in fine purple clothing. "Don't be discouraged by their petty words, I happen to think you have the perfect build for a cavalryman." The man says, extending a hand.

Accepting the help, Francis can only mutter, "That's kind of you to say mister."

With a jovial laugh and a slap on the back, the older man guides the younger back toward the gatehouse. "If it was just kind words, I wouldn't have said it." Banging on the door, the man shouts to the same guard that threw the boy out, "Keep your paws off of my newest recruit or I'll have you polishing the underside of the bridge!"

Slamming a fist against his breastplate in a salute, the guard replies, "Yes, Sir Wardes."

Thus began Francis' time in the Albion Dragon knights.

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"I can't believe it's been three years already." The 22 year old Armsman said to his wife, Agnis as he walked through the door.

Removing his hat and cloak, Francis approached the woman's bedside. The sickly woman looked up at the sound of his voice. "You've said that every day this week, are you feeling alright?"

"I have? No, I feel fine, it must be the shock at having such a lovely woman in my life." Running his hand through her thinning hair, Francis tried his best to smile and ignore the growing patches of scaly skin on his wife's face. He was just happy to have caught her in one of her increasingly rare moments of lucidity.

Swatting him with an unsteady hand, Agnis scolds him. "Don't you lie to me! I'm hideous and I know it. Your brother came by today and nearly vomitted when he saw my condition. Walter said half the city must be ill by now... He said they pulled a body from the well this morning... said it was so bloated and decayed that it came up in pieces!"

Resisting the urge to vomit himself, he rubbed his growing goatee and pondered. "There has been an awful lot of talk about people going missing... The captain said it was just the usual paranoia that comes up whenever people start getting sick, but I've heard rumor that Joseph, the butcher's son, was seen attacking one of the patrols last night."

From the basement, a voice shouts, "That's nonsense, little Joseph died a year ago!"

"I didn't say I believed it!" Francis shouts back. "How long have you been here Susan?"

The teen stomps up the stairs with a jar in her hands, "Walter left me here to take care of aunt Agnis. Say's you should be here with her instead of gallivanting around with your precious lizard."

Opening his mouth to argue that dragons are so much more than lizards, his words are cut off by an explosion rattling the building. Shooting to his feet, Francis barks out, "Get to the cellar, both of you!"

"Where are you going?!" "What lovely flowers." The women, one panicked and the other dreamily, respond as he dons his gear and heads out.

Opening the door, the screams of panic and light from the fires increase in intensity. Living close to the waterfront gives him a perfect vantage point to witness the remains of the city's home fleet crashing down into the water, even the water-bound craft are caught in the massive waves created by the falling ships and dragged to the depths.

Running for the bridge, Francis witnesses the chaos unfolding; guardsmen are attacked by crowds of sickly peasants, fires engulf entire streets of building and flames dance in ways that trick the eyes into imagining they might be alive, Screams of terror as rooftop patrolmen fire into the crowds of civilians. The city has gone insane.

Ten minutes of sprinting through what must surely be a nightmare made manifest, Francis arrives at a grisly scene. The soldiers had barricaded the bridge, repelling the mobs that attempted to cross, sometimes with lethal methods if the mounds of peasant corpses are not simply a hallucination. A wet, squelching sound draws his eyes from the bodies to the upper walkway of the hastily erected barricade.

Drawing it's blade from within the body of the guard captain, a towering visage of despair stand to its full height. In the glow of the city's funeral pyre, the demon's cascading curtain of blood red hair writhes as if alive and it's eyes glow like embers from it's ashen face. Francis can only stare in horror as the monster's silhouette splits in two, a four armed shadow rising from the demon's back with blades that glitter in the dark.

Overcome by terror, Francis turns tail and runs, only to by tackled by the four armed demon's impossible leap. Screaming as he tries to escape it's grasp, the young man's last thoughts are of his wife and niece trapped in the cellar by a city gone mad.

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Looking on from a nearby rooftop, you watch as Louise's familiar splits the crying soldier in half. Honestly, you expected these people to put up more of a fight. Sure, both Louise and her zombie are extraordinarily skilled when it comes to swordplay, but the girl's inexperience should have given the men a fighting chance.

Instead, it was a slaughter. Without your interference, the Captain had ordered his men to fire into the fleeing masses as they sought shelter. Louise, reluctant though she was, was able to quickly cross the distance and climb the wall in a totally unexpected bout of acrobatics and proceeded to destroy all resistance. Nobody that young should be that powerful in magic and that skilled in combat.

Frankly, that girl terrifies you a little bit.

Still, the fact that she has such a deadened look in her eyes and streaks of dried tears on her face as she drags her bloodied self back toward you... well, that's a good sign that she probably doesn't have it in her to betray you.

Carrying her exhausted form back to your hideout, you plan for tomorrow. The port and it's ships are destroyed, the city is filling with corpses to be used, the remaining quarter of the local garrison have blockaded themselves inside the island fortress, and your flame thrall is still on the loose.

Create a plan of action:
[] Write in

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A/N: It took two weeks for the disease's to spread.