Tulwar Windfoot

Tulwar was a human Galeshi member of the Black Powder Rebellion, stationed in Khamsin.

## Characteristic

The young man’s looks underscored his identity as a sand clansman - bright white teeth gleamed against deeply tanned skin, and so did his dark eyes. There was no way to guess his hair color - Tulwar was beardless, and his head was covered in a green kaffiyeh. He was tall and lean, looming over other BRP's in Khamsin. He wore a heavy cotton shirt with belled sleeves and flapping pantaloons and his preferred weapon was a scimitar. He was very light on his feet, proving an agile fighter, befitting his epithet-name. Tulwar was also a master of the call of a night-bird - a special whistle-signal for Rebel forces.

## Personality

Tulwar had shown particular affection towards Rikka, always smiling her way - he did the same to most women that he thought were good-looking enough, though, so Rikka was no special case. While in Caero, Tulwar started a romance with Roudi, a bath-girl serving at the tavern where the Rebels were staying, and even spent a night with her.

## History

### Rebel Thunder

In 419 Tz, Tulwar was stationed in Khamsin under Eginhard's leadership. When Rikka, Eginhard's adoptive daughter, brought a new recruit to the ranks of the Rebellion by the name of Blaize he was greeted at the warehouse by Eginhard, Tulwar Windfoot and a shifty-eyed Khamsin folk. Eginhard decided to test Blaize's battle capabilities by pitting him in a practice fight against Tulwar Windfoot of the Galeshi - the fight was to a first blow that in normal circumstances would be deadly - a death-cut. Tulwar fought well but Blaize was able to get the upper hand, winning the duel and joining the Rebels.

Later on, when the Khamsin troops of the Black Powder Rebels were tasked with helping deliver the black powder cargo from Varsfield to Atlantis, Tulwar was one of the candidates to ride forward with Rikka and Eginhard. When Blaize was taken by press-gangers led by Armon to Minetown, Rikka asked around for anyone who could help rescue Blaize - Jorj, Mikarl and Jon Bowman all declined. **Tulwar** was the only one to agree to rescue Blaize and also liberate the slaves of Minetown.

Although the mounts were obtained immediately, it was late afternoon before Rikka entered Minetown and acquired the necessary information from Graciela, the Rebellion's contact in the excavation. With nightfall Rikka got rid of the baggy, shapeless dress - she kept the shawl, though. It covered her hair and face and presented a familiar silhouette to any guards that might see her. Rikka also shifted the coil of rope she’d worn wrapped around her waist to her shoulder.

She hadn’t wasted her time in the waning daylight - after finding a good spot among the tumbledown houses of the shantytown, she’d timed the sentries on their rounds. After sunset, Rikka let the guards go a few more rounds to get used to the darkness — and to get bored. Then she moved for the ramparts - the spot she and Tulwar agreed upon was a good hundred paces from the fortified gate. She leaned over the sharpened tops of the palisade logs and opened the latch on the covered bull's-eye lantern, once, twice, three times. At the third flash, a night-bird sang in the darkness beyond, Tulwar’s return signal. Rikka unslung the rope, a loop was already fixed in one end. That went over one of the sturdier logs. She crouched to wait - a moment later, Tulwar joined her.

Still crouched, they regathered the rope and were off the wall well before the next guard came by. They made their way among the improvised dwellings, built with whatever the Imperials didn’t want. Rikka knew them well - such constructions had been home to her for more than half her life. She waited until they were well away from the wall before opening the lamp again and blowing out the stub of candle inside. She then passed a hammer and a chisel to Tulwar to break Blaize free - the two then moved through the darkness.

Blaize opened his eyes to find **Tulwar Windfoot** standing over him, scimitar upraised, not sure if this was some sort of dream—or a nightmare. The Galeshi dropped to one knee, putting a light hand on Blaize’s mouth while he mimed for silence. Then he turned to face Blaize’s cuffed ankle. Pushing himself up on one elbow, Blaize saw what must have awoken him - Tulwar had stretched Blaize's leg chain across the head of a hammer. He raised his sword again, bringing it down in a swift chop. Blaize’s estimate of Galeshi swordsmithing rose sharply as the scimitar’s cutting edge sliced through an iron link as if it were butter.

Although Tulwar had done his best to keep the operation as quiet as possible, there was a little noise as the blade clashed against the hammerhead. It was enough to rouse someone two sleepers down from where Blaize lay. He immediately recognized the character who’d purposely bumped into him at dinner - the big, slope-shouldered slave had given him a look of challenge. Now, as Tulwar whirled to point his scimitar at the stirring figure, the man stared at Blaize with mute appeal. Then he glanced beyond Blaize, his eyes going wide with alarm.

Tulwar ducked down as Blaize turned on his side, still pretending to be asleep, to see what was going on. Light flooded the area as a man with a lamp came close. Blaize recognized the head overseer - the drunken man advanced unsteadily, and his eyes certainly weren’t on Blaize - they were on Rikka, who hastily slipped a knife under his ribs, trying to go straight for the heart. The overseer was already dead, but Blaize knew strange things could happen with wounds like these. Once he’d watched a man run a hundred paces after taking a blade in the heart. The overseer tried to shout an alarm, but Blaize was already vaulting up, reaching for the head slavemaster, silencing the fat drunkard as he was dying. Blaize caught the dead weight with his body, fighting to maintain his clumsy hold while making sure the lamp didn’t crash. Rikka joined him, and together they lay the dead man down.

Blaize found the master key on a chain around the dead man’s neck, and the medallion the man had taken earlier that afternoon. The chain was broken - Blaize cursed under his breath. Blaize then gave Rikka the master key and slipped the medallion under his shirt. Rikka and Tulwar made quite a team, working down the line - the Galeshi had awaken each slave with a hand on the mouth, ensuring silence while she undid the leg cuffs - tactically speaking, freeing as many slaves as possible was a clever gambit. Their unpremeditated, improvised attempts to break out would certainly keep the guards and overseers busy while Rikka followed her escape plan. On the other hand, introducing so many random elements might've served to wreck that plan.

Still, Blaize did not intervene - remembering the way she talked about the mines, he realized her root cause was a burning belief that no one should be in these places. By the time the whole coffle had been released, the freed slaves were starting to make noise. Some were already running off. Even Rikka realized it was time to go. As she came toward him, Blaize noticed Trav standing slack-jawed, looking oddly older than he had today on the line. Apparently, this late shot of hope had paralyzed the man who’d chosen to give it all up. Then Blaize spotted his aggressive chainmate kneeling over the dead overseer, coming up with the man’s knife and sword - Blaize threw the armed man the key. A cry of pain awoke the guards - the knot of unchained slaves exploded, some heading for the shantytown, some going for the walls, some just running.

Rikka surprised Blaize by heading along the rim of the pit toward one of the farther sections of the palisade. As they reached the ladder leading to the ramparts, a guard appeared, torch in one hand, spear in the other - Rikka shown her prowess with throwing knives by lodging onein the guard's eye, instantly killing him. Without missing a beat, Rikka, Blaize and Tulwar swarmed up the ladder. Moments later, they were mounted and pounding down the road. Behind them the walls of Minetown were coming alive with torchlight. They had a short talk, in which Tulwar explained wht he had come - during the duel, he almost killed Blaize, broke the rules and tattered his honor, but Blaize prevented him from doing so - this was his way of repaying the debt he owned to the Caeronn.

### Road to Caero

After they cleared the zone of devastation around Minetown, Rikka left the Imperial Road, turning onto a barely scratched trail through scrubland. From his glimpses of the stars when there weren’t trees in the way. Rikka continued to take the lead, and Blaize and Tulwar followed her along an intricate series of trackways and back paths. Some of them didn’t seem to be paths at all, just wider spaces between bushes - smuggler's paths. They continued on, sometimes in darkness, sometimes in moonlight, until Rikka reined in her horse.

The trail they were on intersected a larger road. All around them was second-growth forest, with thick underbrush cutting the view to a few yards. Rikka gestured to Tulwar, who gave her a flash of very white teeth, then pursed his lips and let out a low, warbling whistle - the call of a night-bird. A moment later, the recognition signal was returned from the bushes on the opposite side of the road. Rikka gently kicked her mount into a slow walk. Blaize and Tulwar trailed along behind her. A rider emerged from the shadows across the way, and they rode together along the road for a short distance, until what seemed like an impenetrable wall of brush suddenly shifted aside to reveal an opening. This was a larger, better-maintained secret road. There was enough room for people to ride side by side. But they continued on in single file along the shadowy path until they found an open space, a rocky gorge cut in the side of a hill. During the spring rains, it was probably a swift-moving stream. Now it was dry, providing a hiding place for Eginhard’s troop.

There they met up with some familiar faces - Jorj, Mikarl and Eginhard - they all joked around about Blaize's drunken adventure, gambling addiction and the thickness of his skull. Blaize and Eginhard shook hands and started their horses moving. With that silent signal, the cavalcade moved out. When his mount finally came to a stop, Blaize almost fell from the saddle, but Rikka saved him from an awkward situation. They rode out ahead of the others, following the track as it curved up to a vantage point on a hillside.

Eginhard was there on his horse, frowning at the vista below. A pair of larger roads met and crossed, creating an irregular clearing in the midst of another section of scrubland. Strung out along the road paralleling their route was an Imperial mounted patrol, a good dozen men on horseback plus a couple of crossbowmen on the six-legged mechanical Scorpems.

The Rebel forces had to take out the Scorpem patrol - and Blaize was appointed by Eginhard to lead the charge. Wordlessly, he followed Eginhard as the rest of their party reached them. The pace picked up as they headed downhill, bursting onto the roadway behind the rear guard of the patrol. He felt emptiness because of fighting fellow Imperials - it was wrong for him. Tulwar yelled a Galeshi war cry. The tail end of the Imperial column had now reached the clearing ahead. Already, they were shaking out into a line formation while still on the move.

The numbers were about equal, but the Imperials were mounted on tall horses from the southern plains, while Eginhard’s people rode smaller northern ponies. The difference in mass would be felt in a shock attack. When the fight started, Jorj was the first one to die, killed by a Scorpem Crossbowman. That was when the volley of arrows sleeted from the brush behind the Imperials. The heavy fire concentrated on the Scorpem riders - in an instant, despite their armored cover, the two crossbowmen looked like pincushions, sagging lifelessly over their now-still mounts. Riders came tearing through the underbrush - Orcs, for the most part, with a scattering of humans and Dwarves. Snow rode in the lead. The surviving Imperial riders milled around, unsure which threat to meet. Surrounded, bereft of the Scorpems, and outnumbered, the Imperials were now just dead men on horseback. The onrushing lines of attackers crashed into them.

The battle was over. The shrill sound of Tulwar’s Galeshi victory-yell had Blaize hauling his pony around almost in embarrassment, realizing he’d turned his back on the skirmish. He raised his sword arm up, then let it fall down again. No more Imperials remained astride their horses or Scorpems. The Orcs were already off their lizard-mounts, blades rising and falling to make sure none of the guardsmen were shamming. Snow rode through the Rebel lines, joined by Sigwold. Moments later, Sigwold and Eginhard were reunited, and Sigwold introduced Snow to his dwarven brother.

### Burning of Caero

The Rebel group created a little eddy in the gathering river of humanity making its way into the mouth of the Port Gate. Eginhard had led the reduced group of riders from the stone cave yesterday, pushing the pace against the declining sunlight. They’d even picked their way for two hours in full darkness before the Dwarf finally gave up, his grim insistence on speed had kept conversation to a minimum. By the time they set up a fireless camp, the riders were too tired to think of anything but sleep, except for the rotation of guards Eginhard established.

The Rebel leaders had proven remarkably thorough - giving Tulwar and others a little road-silver to show the gate guards he had the wherewithal for a week’s stay at a local inn. By sunrise, they were in sight of Caero’s walls. They also found themselves in the midst of a motley collection of people waiting to get through the gates. Eginhard and Rikka pushed into the mob scene, quickly disappearing. Someone out of the remaining group had to go next - in the end, they played a finger game, and Blaize and Tulwar lost to Jon Bowman. When they joined the line, true dawn had arrived - and the dustwinds began blowing in earnest.

When they arrived at the gate, they found several squads of Imperial guardsmen - most were searching incoming vehicles and pack trains, assessing taxes. Only one squad dealt with individual travelers, consisting of a grim-faced Altem Guardsman who let them through quickly enough. He passed them, though, and they walked their horses down Caero’s Ceremonial Way, the widest, longest street in the city. They quickly left the wide-open streets of aristocratic Caero for a city of tight, twisting alleys. Tulwar then took them to the shopping district, where they they found themselves facing a nondescript shop with bundles and dried greenery spread on the shutter. The owner was a wizened old Caeronn, his face wrinkled, the linen of his kilt yellowing. Tulwar said the password to the old contact, who, in turn, asked his servant to lead the way to the Rebellion's base in Caero.

Tulwar and Blaize followed the shadowed figure to a door standing ajar in the expanse of the opposite wall. Stepping through the entry, they found themselves in a fairly large kitchen. Valerian then revealed himself to Tulwar and they became acquainted. In the common room, they found Jon, Harolt, Rikka, and Eginhard seated around the ruins of a generous meal. Two strangers were also at the table - Sarah Ythlim and Affrem, the fat owner of the inn. The Rebels discussed their trip to Caero while eating and also assessing their next course of actions. After all was said and done, Sarah, Valerian, and Affrem then moved off to a table across the room, speaking in low tones.

When his time at the bathhouse came, Blaize found Tulwar still lolling in the other tub while one of the female bath attendants whipped up a good lather in a mug. There, Blaize was told about Valerian by Tulwar, hearing of how the forest elf came to be known as Woodsbane. After that, Blaize certainly couldn’t reject the bath-girl’s barbering services. When they were finished, the attendants wrapped great towels around the men.

Next day, in the common room, Tulwar sat there, satisfied after a night with Roudi, the bath-girl, and Affrem had managed to get Eginhard, Jon, and Harolt into some sort of game. Valerian sat off to the side, watching them with an ironic smile. Blaize incquired about Roudi so that he could get his medallion fixed - Valerian let Tulwar accompany him. Roudi happily gave them directions - Blaize even suspected Wensu, the local tinker, was some distant relative of hers.

The route wasn’t that complicated, taking them to a nearby neighborhood. Getting there took them out of the alleyways and across one of the wider streets. The display on Wensu’s shutter-counter ran to cheap brass objects — candlesnuffers and cookware, but beside the man sat a tiny dancing female figure. It wasn’t even as tall as Blaize’s thumb, but it was a perfect miniature. Wensu done his work masterfully and handed the medallion with the chain back, while also handing some road-silver to Blaize as spare change.

There was little enough to see in the neighborhood, so Blaize and Tulwar decided to return to the inn. A squad of Imperials came marching up just as Blaize and Tulwar crossed the wider thoroughfare - behind them, matching the soldiers step for step, came the hulking form of an Incendiary Golem. A second later, the Altem accompanying it gave a command to the machine and it set a row of shops on fire.

For one stunned second, the only sound was the screaming of the burning merchants and their customers. Then, as the Golem moved on to the next row of buildings, uproar engulfed the street. Bawling in terror, people began running, abandoning the relatively wide street for the back alleys. The thick afternoon crowds had no idea what to do; their surge was just a mass attempt to escape the fire, the soldiers, and the Golem. Tulwar and Blaize were dragged along in the panicked stream of people. The Golem moved on, firing its flamecaster - now all the buildings on the far side of the street were ablaze. A wall of flame barred the way to the rest of the city - but it might be worse that both the inn and Sarah Ythlim were on this side of the fiery cordon.

Blaize and Tulwar fought their way to the front of the torrent of runners, then they were ahead, making their way through the alleys where the fleeing mob dispersed. They reached the inn ahead of any of the refugees, bursting into the common room. Instantly, they faced a phalanx of suddenly drawn weapons and informed the residents that the Atlanteans are trying to set the city on fire.

Affrem tried to leap to his feet—but failed. Valerian’s foot pinned the Caeronn’s robe to the floor. The fat frog-face, beaded with sweat, all but shouted confirmation of Valerian’s subtle accusation - the tax collector — Ramosi — was going to ruin the innkeeper if he didn't rat out the rebels to the government. Valerian’s smile had gone completely feral as he seized Affrem’s head, moving so quickly. An instant later, Affrem lolled in his chair, a red gorget of blood spreading across his robe from a slit throat. Wiping a knife on the dead man’s linen, Valerian headed for the stairs to get Sarah and Rikka.

The instant she got the news, Sarah was coming down the stairs, pulling a nondescript gray cape around herself. Valerian had also donned the floor-length hooded cloak. Along with smoke, flaming debris were already flying on the breeze, landing all over the neighborhood, setting new fires. Cries of alarm rang out as people’s homes went up. As the fugitives negotiated a kink in the narrow alleyway road, they finally saw why - a three-story house was well ablaze, thick smoke rising from the roof. No bucket brigade could stop the fire’s progress. Despairing wails came from the third floor as well, the window shutters had been thrown open, and a woman stood in the opening, holding two babies in her arms. Flames already flickered behind her, the mother’s voice was raw from smoke, screaming for any help. Sarah Ythlim stopped dead in the passageway, Valerian crashing into her from behind. Sarah was hellbent on rescuing the mother.

The Rebels formed a living ladder - on Blaize's idea - they lasted long enough for the trapped family to make their escape. The desperate construction came apart from the top down. Once the operation was done, Blaize nearly fell flat but Rikka flung her arms around him in exuberance and caught him. After that, they continued running away from the Imperials.

The Rebels’ flight was short-lived - they hardly got a block away down the alley before they ran straight into an Imperial patrol. The guardsmen stood five abreast behind a hedge of spear points - this was no arson squad - these guardsmen had been set out to plug this escape route. They were searching for something - or someone - Sarah, as the Rebels later found out. Fire, meanwhile, cut off the escape route from the back. Two guardsmen came forward to pull the females aside, grabbing their hoods. Sarah’s face and hair were revealed. The one who’d gone for Rikka stepped back, gurgling. Seizing the opportunity, Blaize tore his sword free and charged the line of spears, droppinng to bring himself under the shafts, rolling up to the guardsmen’s legs, and began slashing - he was intent on getting through the line and at the Altem.

The Altem got off one good blast on his brass whistle before Blaize’s blade punctured a lung. Returning whistles came from the distance — other patrols on their way. The pack of Rebels already burst through the gap Blaize had created, Tulwar included. Valerian led them on a wildly jinking course through the webwork of alleys. All around them, though, the running Rebels could still hear the whistles - the sound even came from behind them. Smoke grew thick in the constricted passage, and he could see the redness of flames up ahead.

More Imperials came clattering in pursuit — a fresh patrol by the look of it, and they had a live Altem directing the chase. They followed Valerian through another set of zigzags, in the hopes of briefly setting back the pursuers - the alley they ended up in swerved through an almost right-angle turn. When Blaize and Eginhard came round, they found a pair of absolutely blank walls, smoke, and the rest of their party preparing to make a stand. Harolt, Tulwar, and Jon formed a rank across the passage. Harolt, the drover, looked scared, Tulwar looked eager, and Jon looked a little dubious. He’d had to give up his crossbow, leaving him with only a sword. Eginhard grinned wolfishly as he took his place in the line.

Blaize took his place at the far flank against the right-hand wall. They waited long minutes. Valerian’s attempted evasion couldn’t have taken this long for the Imperials to figure out. On the left, Valerian spoke with Eginhard, bringing something out from under his long cloak and putting it in the Dwarf’s arms. In a swirl of black wool, Valerian then joined Sarah and Rikka. He could barely make out Sarah’s gray cloak in the distance.

A single Imperial then leaped around the corner, appearing right in front of Harolt. The Prieskan jumped back, not striking. Neither did the Imperial, who vanished round the bend again even as Tulwar hacked at him. The Galeshi’s scimitar clashed off armor, and then the scout was gone. From around the corner came the sounds of a sizable mass of men organizing for an attack. The four men blocking the alleyway looked nervously at one another. The only good thing was that they were reasonably safe from any sort of Technomantic attack. A magical blast or even a Golem’s heavy tread would bring the burning warehouse’s walls down. From the front, the sounds of advancing men became louder.

Eginhard then started charging his secret weapon - a lightning gun. Harolt was already past, breaking into a run. So was Jon Bowman — prudence in this case obviously being the better course than valor. Blaize and Tulwar still faced the bend in the alley as a host of Imperials came roaring round, Altems in the front rank. They stumbled a little when they didn’t encounter the resistance they’d expected. Either way, Eginhard triggered the weapon - a spark of blue-white energy sizzled from the lightning gun, striking the wall Blaize had been standing beside moments ago. It wasn’t a full charge, but even so, it was enough to fill the narrow alleyway with the stink of ozone. Eginhard then pushed Blaize and Tulwar ahead of him, into the opening for escape that he just made.

They were coming up on another intersection. Rikka and Sarah darted right into a cross-alley. Valerian, his pale hair streaming behind him, went straight. Still blinking, Blaize pounded after the Forest Elf, thinking it was Sarah instead of the Smiling Devil. Tulwar and Eginhard lagging behind.

### Escaping the Conflagration

When Eginhard and Tulwar joined Valerian and Blaize, the Elf continued leading them north, apparently unconcerned about the encroaching fire. The smoke grew thicker as they continued on their way. Blaize could hear noises through the thickening murk—muttered curses, and then a crash. While the others barged in to a building to get some water to help with the smoke, Valerian searched the area until finally he stopped in front of a statue. He pushed against it, and the base suddenly pivoted, revealing the black maw of a hole - Caero has its tunnels that smugglers often use, and they were heading down to one. With that, Valerian swung himself around and began descending. Blaize found himself third, after Harolt. As he clambered downward, he could hear the sounds of flint striking steel. Then light blossomed below. The tunnel ran straight ahead. Blaize simply had to follow Valerian.

After Valerian handing everyone masks to avoid suffocating from the smoke, they continued on. Their light began to fade — the flame of the torch was guttering - after all, flame needs air to breathe. Harolt then stumbled, reaching to catch himself against the wall. He recoiled from the stone like a scalded cat. Hysteria quivered in the Northerner’s voice. Harolt sobbed, but continued onward. Eginhard was the next to trip, falling all the way to the floor. They made the last third of their journey on hands and knees, faces as close to the floor as they could bring them. Somewhere along the way, the heat began to decrease. They had made it beneath the raging fires. Everyone in the group was coughing now, a thick, disgusting mucus emerging to clog the masks they wore. Valerian then snuffed out the torch. They groped along in blackness until the Elf finally croaked, finding a ladder! Eginhard and Valerian then forced the trapdoor at the top open.

They climbed up into a warehouse thick with smoke, but there seemed to be no flames anywhere near. Outdoors, the dustwind tasted like wine when the group let go of their masks. The group walked through empty streets, disheveled, smoke-stained, and wild-eyed. Valerian had wrapped the cloak around himself, pulling up the hood to hide his telltale hair. Shadows were slanting across the streets. The remorseless dustwinds continued to blow in the group’s face - besides grit, it brought new traces of smoke. They continued on through streets grown dull with fading sunlight and clouds of smoke.

Warehouses gave way to tenements, and then, as they came to the first wide street, they suddenly found shining new mansions. One of them was afire, adding to the local smoke quota. A crowd had gathered to watch the spectacle, and some were accepting work on a sketchy bucket brigade that was bringing water to the harried house servants. A couple of grounds servants had abandoned the fight to save the house, running for the stables. One of the menials threw open the door and began to lead horses out. Tulwar led the way to the far wall, grabbing saddles and bridles, passing some on to Blaize. As they headed out, Harolt was leading two horses - whatever the Prieskan lacked in personal courage, he made up for in concern for the animals. They moved as gently as if they were taking an exercise round. The horse Eginhard led, however, kept trying to bite him.

Tulwar tossed his gear to Jon Bowman and took over gentling down the horse still trying to take a bite out of Eginhard. Harolt turned his two horses over to Valerian, then turned to run back into the burning building. All the horses they needed were saddled up when Harolt returned. With that chore taken care of, they mounted up and charged for the mansion gates. The crowd recognized immediately that the riders were not Ramosi’s servants and burst out in cheers. The Imperials turned, stared, and began pushing off from the wall where they’d been lounging. But before the troopers could block the way, the Rebels were past them, riding like mad for the Ceremonial Way and the Northern Gate.

This time, there was no polite waiting in line. They pounded along the street, and anyone who got in the way risked being trampled. From the dodging pedestrians, the gate guards would have to suspect something was up - very few Caeronns left the city just before the gates closed. Blaize could see helmeted heads turning toward him and the other riders. Altems began shouting orders, and their squads started deploying. One Altem stalked forward, his hand upraised - the arrogant fool couldn’t believe the riders wouldn’t obey. Valerian purposely swerved his horse to knock the Altem down. The other Imperials were caught flat-footed. They had neither blocked off the exit with troops nor closed the gates. It was too late for the Imperials - the Rebels galloped through the open gateway. Safely outside, Valerian skinned back his cloak’s hood, letting the guards see that the white-haired Rebel they were supposed to be on the lookout for had escaped — northward.

Valerian's plan of going for the pyramids to hide from the Imperials was foiled when he saw their forces gathering near the wonders of architecture. The troops had apparently been sent out to the Empire’s stone-stealing project at the smallest pyramid. Clustered around the scaffolding that surrounded the cut into the pyramid stood a group of Golems—Incendiary Golems. The hulking constructs dwarfed the robed mages who controlled them and made the Amotep Incinerators in the group look even odder. Disengaging and escaping would be a much longer, more difficult matter.

The Elf now led the group of riders for the edge of the pyramid farthest from the roadside. As soon as the Rebels left the road, the Imperial troops began deploying. Some moved to block the paved surface. Others formed a line to protect the mages. Several Golems began making their ponderous way to the far end of the pyramid. The riders had the longer route to travel, but they could move faster than the Golems. The stony ground beneath them—necessary to support such titanic structures—allowed top speed.

It would be a close thing, but it looked as though the riders would win the race. Then another variable raised its ugly head - an Amotep Incinerator appeared, already at the end of the pyramid. The jet of flame he sent at the riders set their horses snorting and plunging, refusing to go onward. The Golems, however, continued advancing at their thundering, jogging trot. Jon Bowman snarled the order to halt. An instant later, he had his bow ready, and fired. The bolt caught the Amotep in the leg, bringing him down. Another jet of flame vomited out as the wounded man tried to fire back. Jon was just out of range - he pulled his bowstring back into position and set in another bolt.

The Amotep was clawing his way erect with the help of one of the uprights for the scaffolding when Jon fired again. This time, the bolt entered the Imperial’s shoulder, just outside his armor. The hand that had held the nozzle of the flamecaster hung uselessly as the Incinerator fell again. The riders tore through the danger zone. The Golems were coming very close. Blaize was distracted and didn't see the Amotep who tried to seize the opportunity from Blaize’s inattention, wobbling up with the nozzle in his good hand. Blaize went to stab, but was blocked as Tulwar brought his horse over the Imperial. A gout of flame rose up. The horse reared, screaming, then collapsed.

Tulwar flew from the saddle, his billowing Galeshi costume afire. He lived up to his “Windfoot” epithet, landing lightly and rolling to douse the flames. His mount, however, lay where it had fallen, kicking and giving bubbling screams. Scimitar in hand, Tulwar limped to the prone Amotep and administered the finishing stab. His handsome face was starting to blister as he glared up at Blaize, proclaiming that he would make his final stand here and now against the Golems. He aimed the nozzle at the nearest Incendiary Golem - flame poured forth to bathe the oncoming machine, searing Tulwar even as he fired. The construct raised its own huge flamecaster for a countershot and suddenly began to shudder. Tulwar laughed.

The Golem’s fuel tank blew up - the blast was enough to jar Blaize’s horse into a stumble. The scream of overstressed wood was heard and then a crash as at least part of the scaffolding fell. Then came the grinding of stone against stone, a rumble, and finally a roar as the stone the Imperials had intended to steal collapsed in a sort of landslide down the miniature mountain. Maybe some of the Golems might survive that. But by the time they got themselves unburied, Blaize and the others would be leagues away - all because of Tulwar's sacrifice.

***Black Powder Rebels***
 Major characters

1. ↑ 1.0 1.1 Rebel Thunder (Bill McCay), Chapter 4
2. ↑ 2.0 2.1 Rebel Thunder (Bill McCay), Chapter 9
3. ↑ 3.0 3.1 Rebel Thunder (Bill McCay), Chapter 8
4. ↑ 4.0 4.1 Rebel Thunder (Bill McCay), Chapter 14
5. ↑ Rebel Thunder (Bill McCay), Chapter 8
6. ↑ Rebel Thunder (Bill McCay), Chapter 15
7. ↑ Rebel Thunder (Bill McCay), Chapter 16