Before the search of Blackerly's office begins in earnest, Wesh shakes his head at the conversation that's taken place so far. "I'm not suggesting we ambush him at his poker game nor did I think he was in his office. I'm suggesting we wait for him to come back to his office, then take him by surprise there. Yes, we may have to wait a while, but I think we're better off taking on as few of the guards at a time as possible.
"Blackerly may prove especially troublesome, so I think we're better off taking him alone, if at all possible. We don't have to, of course, but I think we're better off taking him down in a place we're already familiar with. As accurate as the servants' information may have been, we can't know the locations of all the guards at all times. One wrong move and a single horn-blow will bring every guard down on us at once. That's the last thing I want to happen."
Having said his piece, Wesh doesn't want anything to do with Blackerly... besides killing the man. As such, he stays out in the hallway to keep watch with Grumblejack.
The fighter isn't quite sure what to make of Grumblejack. He could make an excellent ally or he could prove to be a liability. Still, Wesh is willing to give him a chance. Grumblejack had chosen a greatsword as his weapon of choice. Wesh could respect that at least.
It takes Demlin a few minutes to get the lock on Blackerly's office open - it's much better quality than the one on the cells or even the armory. Once she has the lock open, Grumblejack nods to Hel's instructions and says, "Grumblejack smash blue shirts with horns."
Inside, the large room is lit by a pair of torches held in sconces, but the only furniture is a large desk and table with a chair. There is another door in the northern wall, which is locked, and one in the western wall, which is not.
Hel gives a quick search of the papers on the desk, finding a complete map of the prison along with the locations of all the guard posts.
Reading through the paperwork, you find the current garrison roster and the amount each guard gets paid. You also find the costs for supply of foodstuffs and other necessities for supplying garrison.
However, when you read the requests that get sent to the Talirean military for funds, you find the amount is too high - Blackerly is requesting funds for payroll and supplies as if the prison were fully staffed, when in fact it is undermanned. Blackerly must be pocketing the difference - stealing from the prison's coffers!
Pausing before she enters the office, Hel glances appraisingly at Grumblejack the Ogre, and says thoughtfully, "You're smarter than the average bear, aren't you? And you're willing to follow directions, a rare quality in your brethren. You might actually prove ... useful, even once the night is past. Stick around, Grumblejack."
She steps to the side and nods in agreement with Wesh. "All right, I can understand that. But you can't say that ambushing them two-by-two hasn't been a good idea so far. And if we can find a place to roast him alive or fill him with arrows ... I think we should take the chance." She pauses, thoughtfully looking at the only unopened door (which obviously must lead outside) for a few long seconds, then comments, "I noticed that in both pairs of guards, both of them had bows, clubs, and swords, but only one horn. What do you think of you and Sir Gallen - and maybe Rigel, she seems comfortable putting on that chain mail - getting kitted out in full guard mufti? It might help.[/b]"
Once inside, she exclaims with delight over finding the map. "Excellent!! MUCH better than my charcoal drawing upstairs. Okay, let's see, guards here, we got those ..." She glances around, and suggests, "Amalrus, come help me find a shift roster for this place, I want to know what Blackerly normally runs. Two upstairs, two here on the walls ... twenty-three total, something's odd about that ... Sir Gallen, can you come check me on this?" she asks, frowning at the map as she sifts through papers, glancing at them relatively quickly. It isn't that she's a speed-reader, it's just that she's looking for a particular sort of information -- a roster and watch schedule.
"There's likely too much to go through and I doubt there's anything that will be of significance once we are out of here so no need to weigh ourselves down but I will assist you just in case. The map is worth the diversion though in my opinion. Shall we make our way to the warden, I'd rather surprise the wizard rather than the other way around." He moves over to assist Hel.
Wesh shrugs at Hel's suggestion and says, "I'm fine with wearing the uniform if we think it will help. I plan on murdering everyone here rather than sneaking out, so I'm not sure how much it matters."
While Wesh waits outside for the others to finish their work, he decides to make casual conversation with Grumblejack.
"Where do you come from, Grumblejack? And how did the Talirean buffoons manage to capture you?"
Going through the papers, Hel softly sing-songs, "Patience is a virtuuue," even if her fingers sort a bit faster. But Gallen is there, and she nods at it. "Add those watch posts up. Presuming each post has a pair, does that tally with twenty-three guards to you? If Blackerly and the Warden are part of that twenty-three, then where does the last guard fit in? Something weird is going on here, and unless we figure out what it is, it's going to bite us when we least expect it, when it can do the most damage. And I don't like getting bitten."
While Hel and Gallen go through the documents, Demlin checks the other doors.
Hearing that Wesh plans to kill everyone she asks, "Would you even kill those that sleep?"
"The installation could double up in function. A prison but perhaps something else, a repository of material or a place of research. They could keep additional staff off the books so to speak to conceal this fact... if that were the case this map may not be completely accurate either but the only place I can think of where we could put the mystery to rest would be the Warden's office." He gives Wesh a meaningful look.
Grumblejack says, "Grumblejack live in moor outside - ambush and eat stupid little 'uns, take their stuff. One day, some special Mitran warrior person comes to find Grumblejack - really good with sword, calls on Mitra to aid his strength. Mitra apparently answers - he hits Grumblejack good, makes me unconscious. Grumblejack wake up while guards attempting to lock Grumblejack in cell. Grumblejack manage to kill two of them, but then they beat Grumblejack unconscious again and lock me up. Then give Grumblejack stupid tea to weaken me. Grumblejack not like Mitran deity - all Mitran followers want hurt Grumblejack."
Demlin finds the door to the West unlocked, which appears to lead into a very large bedroom. The door to the North is locked, with a decent quality lock.
Wesh listens as Grumblejack recounts his tale. Once he finishes, Wesh says, "I see. You were very brave to fight the Mitrans, Grumblejack. Tell me, did this 'special Mitran warrior person' have a name?"
Amalrus grabs an extra quiver for Hel and a masterwork dagger for himself. Armor will make the few spells he does have left possibly fail so he does not bother.
---
Amalrus sighs at overhearing Wesh's comments and notes to Hel, "We are better served escaping to kill them all later. I hope his quest for vengeance does not get us all killed..."
"Killing people who are asleep seems like the best time to do it, honey." Rigel gives Demlin a quick look, hoping that she isn't soft. "It's us or them, you know..."
Her eyes alight on the papers and she sorts through them, looking for anything of particular interest. Information is currency, after all.
"A shame, I'd rather face them with blade in hand but this engagement started with us in chains. There is no glory or honour to be gained in their deaths but it is likely necessary." His forehead furrows trying to understand the Mithran minds "If they had executed us swiftly rather than draw it out they wouldn't be dealing with this problem."
Grumblejack thinks for a minute. ”Said name was Sir...Richard? Of...Hampellon? Handevyn? Some fancy title place. Grumblejack not hear of him before.”
"Actually, I mostly agree with him," she replies to Amalrus, frowning at the found list of the guards and their schedules, and starts comparing it with Sir Gallen and the map of the prison. "Not the servants; they're not involved in keeping us here, and they've been cooperating nicely. All the guards, however -- including the sleeping ones," and here she turns her head to glower at Demlin as the scout fiddles with the lock on the door behind them, "are here to keep us caged. They'd all come a-running the moment a watch-horn was blown. Eliminating them two-by-two is the best way to ensure that we get out of here, so yes, I agree with Wesh and not Sir Gallen about slaughtering every last one of the lot of them, sleeping or not." She nods approval to Rigel.
Returning to Gallen and the map, she shakes her head. "No no no. Look, two here, two here and here and here, and then two patrolling. That's ten. Two shifts, that's twenty - but they don't run twelve hour shifts, they run eight, remember? That's three shifts, and with ten per shift, that should be at least thirty. The kitchen staff aren't telling us what the paperwork says, they're telling us what they're cooking for, which makes them a very accurate source, presuming they can be trusted. So ... wait, Amalrus, what was that? Is that a supply requisitions?"
She picks up and hands Sir Gallen the map, saying absently, "Hold that for a minute. Twenty three, multiplied by ..." Working with Amalrus, using the back of an already-used sheet, she starts doing the math that the two of them have come across, and that the two of them have subconsciously noticed as wrong. After a long minute or two of computing and double-checking numbers on other things, Hel looks at the wizard in realization. "Blackerly's embezzelling." She straightens up, then turns halfway about, looking at Rigel and Sir Gallen (and Demlin, if she's done). "He's been stealing from the military, understaffing the prison but asking for the full amount of funds necessary to pay and feed and equip them. For months."
She sounds a little amazed at the discovery.
Amalrus grins, "Yes, yes he has. In fact, I think the last thing we should do is kill him. We should leave him alive, with the proof of his embezzling pinned to his tied up body. He will find himself in the same cells we were long after we are gone. That's simply too delicious of a fate to let him simply die.
As far as killing the guards, their deaths I care not a whit about, it's my life I care about. One mistake, just one, and we'll be back in chains or worse, dead.
But... a Wizard with no spellbook must go with the plan presented to him, not the plan he wishes to have so I shall be with you all to the end of this endeavor and hope that our Lord is watching over us while Mitra turns a blind eye to these guards' fate".
"It is a sound and effective strategy." She says of killing sleeping guards. She agrees it would maximise the chances of escape, no matter her feelings of killing the defenseless. "I won't lose any sleep. Soldiers know the risks of their job. Well most of them do."
"He must keep the stolen funds somewhere here unless he has some way of squirreling it elsewhere. Search his room." Demlin keeps at the other locked door until she gets it open.
"Ok. Let's see what's inside..."
Rigel listens, impressed, as Hel relates her discovery. "Good work, honey! I think we should make sure that the sergeant gets his full reward for that. They'd probably send him to Branderscar..."
Poetic justice, in her favour - her favourite kind of justice.
"I'd rather we walked out with the coin and him left in a bruised pile... no reason to leave him with the money to hire a skilled lawyer. A shame we can't get on as prosecution for the case Rigel but news of such a scandal will travel far. I say we start making for his quarters."
While Demlin works on the locked door to the north, and Wesh and Grumblejack stand guard, Rigel, Gallen, Hel, and Amalrus enter the bedroom to the west. The bed is poorly made, with dirty sheets, and the wardrobe seems to contain mostly Blackerly's personal effects. Within the wardrobe you find a flask containing some liquid mixed with herbs. Under the bed is an iron strongbox, locked with a stout, good quality lock .
After several minutes, Demlin is able to get the lock open. The door leads to what is clearly a store room. She can see nearly 200 unlit torches, ten lanterns sitting atop two 10-gallon kegs with the word 'Oil' on them, six spare guard uniforms, a dozen signal horns, several coils of rope, and two barrels labeled 'Emergency Rations'. She also sees a rack on the wall holding several of the runic 'F' brands that marked your skin when you were brought here, the symbol of the Forsaken burned into your arm.
In response to Sir Gallen's comment about making for Blackerly's quarters, Hel points wordlessly to her right, towards the door that's been open since Rigel and Demlin tested it. She doesn't follow the others to search the sergeant's quarters, instead spending a few moments to arrange the papers in such a manner that reading them in order will direct the reader's attention to the obvious conclusion. Hunting through the desk, she then finds paper and pen or pencil and makes as best a copy of the map (and guard locations) as she can.
With Rigel, Amalrus, and Sir Gallen searching the Sergeant's rather spacious sleeping quarters, she goes over to stand by Demlin, to eye the cache of equipment and gear. "Huh. Well, some of this should be useful, one way or the other ..." After checking through the stuff with Demlin, she frowns and goes back to the map, then picks it up and exits Blackerly's office, heading back towards the kitchen. "Spot more interrogation," she says to Wesh and the ogre. "Care to come with? Going to see if the kitchen help can't pinpoint Blackerly's poker game."
Yeah, they said the gatehouse, but that's a pretty big place ...
Wesh merely nods at Hel's request and begins to follow before turning back to Grumblejack and saying, "When we make it out of this place, would you be interested in a more lucrative and consistent job? We could use someone of your skill set. And someone who sees the Mitrans the same way as I do. Think about it, okay?"
The fighter turns back to follow Hel the rest of the way. As he does, he says to her, "While I must admit I'm curious to see how bad Blackerly is at poker, I would prefer to ambush him when he returns. Find anything interesting in his room?"
"Seriously, Wesh, do you want to lurk around for three or four hours, wasting precious escape time, waiting for him to finish up with his stupid poker game just so you can cut his throat in his own room?" She shakes her head in irritation. "Let's be more practical about it. You, woman."
Hel squats down in front of the female. "Understand maps? Don't bother to talk through the gag, just nod or shake your head. All right, here is the gatehouse. First floor, second floor, third -- okay, right, he wouldn't be on the roof. Where does Blackerly's poker game happen? Nod when my finger's on the correct room." And she'll point at each of the side rooms on the first floor of the gatehouse, then at the large second floor room, each time waiting patiently for the woman to respond with an exaggerated shake or nod of her head.
To keep the game a-movin' by makin' good guesses!!
(Seriously, people, 'Conjunction Junction'. C'mon, work with me here!!)
I'm presuming that 3c is the poker room, considering the tables and chairs, and that it probably has limited exposure to Warden Richter, but ICly we didn't know -- the brief interrogation gives us a reason to do so.
"This one? Hmm. Okay. Thank you," she adds in a conscious effort to be, if not gracious, at least a modicum of polite. With a jerk of her head to Wesh, she heads back out, pausing in the entry hall to turn to him. "His own papers offer damning proof to anyone with even a sliver of intelligence that Blackerly is cooking the books -- embezzelling from the Talirean military. According to the cooks, he's currently in a room with no exits whatsoever -- and there's at least twenty gallons of oil in there," she gestures with her head towards the office, "that would make for a particularly nice gift to the man while he plays. So he can die by sword and arrow, trapped in a dead-end room, by fire in the same place, or -- irony of ironies -- caged up and probably hung for treason or whatever for shorting the guard staff and pillaging the prison strongbox, the combination of which is letting us ... well, at least have a chance of escape. So that's three different ways to kill him, mostly without risk to ourselves -- and you want to skulk in his room for three hours waiting for him to come back from poker??"
She shakes her head, and stalks back into the office. "Found where the poker game is," she calls to the others in general. "Anyone else find anything interesting?"
"Let's catch the wizard, I'd rather face the sergeant with an alarm raised than a wizard. After that crashing the poker game is a prime target indeed. We've made some gains here but I think there's little else here of use for us."
If nobody else takes it, Rigel will pick up the iron strongbox - it's fairly obvious that it holds valuable contents.
In the storeroom, she eyes the barrels of lantern oil. "You know, if we gatecrash the poker room with some burning oil it would sure end the fight in a hurry..."
"I agree with Sir Gallen, if we are to remain and not flee, the Wizard is the one being here who could track us and capture us with ease. Better to get the drop on him and slay him before he is prepared to deal with the likes of us.
Plus, I am sure I would find his quarters most interesting indeed.
Of Blackerly I care nothing truth be told, I've given myself worse burns and scars than this one experimenting on my own..." He gestures to his F brand with a slight giggle and a wistful look in his eye.
"The guard shift will be changing over at some point when that happens an alarm that we cannot quiet will sound, let's agree to do something and do it now.
I vote we slay the warden wizard".
Rigel, the strongbox is quite heavy, and requires both hands to carry.
Grumblejack looks at Wesh and says, "Grumblejack like money and smashing Mitrans." He then nods in agreement.
The kitchen maid gives Hel the information she is seeking quite readily, revealing the location of Blackerly's card game without hesitation.
"Got the store room open." Demlin exclaims as she looks inside. "Mostly extra supplies. Torches, lanterns, oil kegs, uniforms, signal horns, rope, emergency rations, branding irons..." She doesn't seem excited at all.
When she sees Rigel with the strongbox her eyebrows lift. "If that isn't where Blackerly is stashing his gold I don't know where else is. Perhaps he can give us the key."
She looks at the map that they have found. "Agreed. Magic is the more dangerous element. If we are careful we can get there from the kitchen exit without being seen. From the warden we can clear out the patrols on the walls and then climb to the top of the gateway and surprise them from above."
Wesh can't help but smile at Hel. It seemed the two were destined to clash heads and do so on a regular basis.
"Yes, I do, if you must know. We know exactly what's here. Map or no map, there are a thousand different variables we can't account for when we leave this area. Like if one of the guards decides to go the bathroom. Or if Blackerly gets mad and returns to his room early because he lost a hand. Or if the warden decides to check up on the prison for once. Just to name a few. So yes, I think we're better off waiting."
The fighter takes a deep breath before continuing, "That said, if most of you insist on pushing forward, I'm not going to wait here on my own. And if we must go traipsing through the rest of the prison, starting with the Warden seems like a good plan."
Wesh disappears into the store room for a few moments before returning with a branding iron bearing the same 'F' imprinted on his arm. "I will still take my time with Blackerly when we come to him. Embezzler or not, he will feel the same burn we felt. Maybe we'll leave him alive..." the fighter trails off for a moment, in disbelief at his own words, "But I will make sure he suffers before we leave. We will make an example of him, one way or the other."
Hel pauses in the entry hall while talking to Wesh, considering his words. "Don't get me wrong, I like a good ambush as much as the next attempted murderer. But now that we're out, we're in a very time-sensitive situation. Anybody walks in here, we're blown. Hell, the moment Blackerly opens up that door --" and she points at the door to the outside "-- and doesn't see the two men he posted here, men he knows, we're revealed. He spooks and doesn't come all the way in, we'd be screwed, and anyone we don't kill while we have the upper hand -- while they don't, as a group, know we're loose -- comes down on us like a sack of hammers on an egg. And though, yes, we don't have perfect knowledge of our enemies, we have more knowledge of them than they do of us, so being on the attack and hunting them down in bits and pieces has ... a better chance of working than losing that and going on the defensive." She scratches the side of her face, just under her right ear. "It's a risk, yes, but I think losing the momentum is a much bigger one. Let's keep the momentum and rampage through our enemies." She gives him a smile.
"After the barracks," Hel reminds the troupe, while making some calculations on the unused side of a sheet of paper. "Let's not leave a major force intact behind us." She straightens up, eyeing the numbers, then sighs in exasperation, throws down the pencil, and says, "Blackerly's been running this place at about half-strength. He should have forty-two instead of the twenty-one he's got. Hell if I can figure how he's distributing them, but the plans call for three at each post except for the two outside the cells, so fourteen per each of three shifts. Twenty-one is half-strength, add him and the Warden and that's twenty-three. If he's got an extra two, fine, whatever, him and the Warden make twenty-five. We've taken out four, we have seventeen or nineteen left. Let's go harvest the ones in the barracks first, then get a move on for our late-night appointment with the Warden."
Wesh, dude - 8, 4, 3a is the way out; 3 is the gatehouse. 21 is the base of the Warden's Tower.
Does the wall cross behind the gatehouse, or just end there, making it a U, and the guards have to turn and go back the way they came? If it goes behind the gatehouse, which one is higher, the gatehouse roof (3e) or the wall?
Our best bet of routes kind of depends on the opposition. Best thing to do would be, after we kill the guards in the Barracks (room 9), to pull the cooks from 11 to 10, douse the lights in 11, and sneak a peek out from there until we know where the roof-top guards are, and in which direction they are patrolling.
If the wall doesn't make a circle, it actually kind of doesn't matter; we wait for them to make the turn at the gatehouse, emerge from 8, and follow the side of the Keep around in the direction they're headed; it would be easiest if they were on the left side, because once they were out of sight behind the Warden's Tower (21 etc.) they'd be out of sight for a while, and we could make our approach relatively easily. Going around the other side exposes us for quite a while longer, and brings us closer to what I assume is kennels, #7, and dogs will bark.
If the walls are a complete loop, then it does matter. If they're going clockwise, we douse the lights in the Front Hall (8), watch through the front door for when they appear heading towards the upper-left-corner tower, then slip out the kitchen door and circle clockwise around the keep. If they're going counterclockwise, we can douse the lights in the Front Hall (8) and watch until they disappear from view moving south along the westernmost (left side) wall and follow them counterclockwise, or else watch from the kitchen door for when they appear, and then run bat-out-of-hell through to 8, and then that way -- that's a bit more risky, though, and I wouldn't want to do it.
Either way, we'll make some noise on the path (it's likely gravel), and may disturb the dogs no matter what door we come out of, so we might want to be ready to either duck back inside, or try to pull off a long-range Con of 'guards escorting prisoners'. For that, Hel is willing to dress up and 'think big'. :P :)
"So murder their reinforcements while their not armed or armored and certainly not expecting it? I do indeed, like that idea".
Wesh nods in agreement. "Killing the easy targets first should make things easier for us down the line. I could use a little practice swinging my greatsword after going without for so long.
"And I'm perfectly fine with posing as a guard, if we think that'll work. We certainly seem more likely to go unnoticed with that plan then trying to sneak about in plain sight."
"If that is the course that ye must set then let us dawdle here no longer. This place holds no more of use to us." Gallen stance is impatient.
"Oh, I think we'll be coming back here for supplies," Hel murmurs. "You two might want to grab a couple of fresh tabards first, for after our drop-in on the barracks ..."
Wesh grabs a fresh tabard to put on once the bloody business in the barracks is done with. He didn't particularly like being given directions, but it was a sound plan and there was no point in arguing about it in this particular situation.
Once he's retrieved the tabard, Wesh nods at everyone else, indicating he's ready to proceed when they are.
Gallen put on a clean tabard, by the time anyone was close enough to notice the blood stains on his current one it'd likely be too late but it would only hold them up if he didn't now and it just might make the difference.
The barracks itself consists of several bunks around the room. Each bunk has two locked footlockers at the foot of the bed. The five guards sleeping in the room don't awaken as you creep into the room and slaughter them where they lay.
The sleeping guards taken care of, Wesh and Gallen change their tabards, and the band of criminals is ready for the next step of their plan.
Rigel will not willingly pass up on the opportunity to retrieve the dead guards' belongings. "After all, not as if they're using them where they're gone, honey," she remarks to nobody in particular. "Sure would be a shame for anything to go to waste."
While the others loot the footlockers, Wesh takes a few minutes to carve Asmodeus' unholy symbol into each of the five guards' chests and foreheads. He's determined to leave his mark, one way or another.
He dons his clean guard's tabard once he's finished. His greatsword might look a bit out of place, but that couldn't be helped.
Wesh smiles as he looks at his handiwork carved into the guards. Their families would have no doubt in whose name the slayings were carried out.
"Waste not, want not," agrees Hel, "but let's make it quick. Wesh does have a point about the chances increasing every moment of the wheels coming off this thing." She watches Rigel (and probably Demlin) getting into more goodies, and makes a count of the number of corpses they've recently created, tallying it with the number they've already slain, and the number the cooks have stated. Frowning in thought, she heads back into Blackerly's office and thence the store-room, snagging a uniform tabard for herself which she'll put on over her clothing, a lantern (which she'll fill or top off from the oil if it's empty), and another couple of tabards, one to be used to cover the lantern -- which she'll light from whatever is available, torches in the entry hall, whatever, then shroud with the tabard.
After that, she'll douse the entry-hall lights, and without the light to give her scouting away, carefully shift open one of the doors to peek through, seeing if she can spot the guards on the walls, first in one direction, then in the other.
Simply put, Hel is going to put her suggested plan into motion, since the first part of it is scouting for where the wall-top guards are. If they're in sight right away, she'll get some idea of how long it takes them to go around, presuming they appear at the other side before the rest of the group shows up.
Guard Total: 23 - 4 - 5 = 14.
And rolls:
Gallen doesn't seem to take any relish in personally slaughtering the men like this. It seems he'd much rather give them a good death on their feet with a blade in their hand. "Even if they all came at us now we've got them at a number where if we were cunning and lucky we could prevail. I'd rather level the odds further of course before any public encounter"
Gallen will leave Hel a forty foot lead, close enough to support her but far enough back not to draw attention to her.
Several of the footlockers are empty and unlocked. You have 9 keys, which easily allows you to unlock 9 of the footlockers. The other locked ones (14 in all) will require Disable Device checks (DC 20).
Reroll
Reroll
The first one you open, contains a package full of cookies with a note "From Lil." The second contains a small vial with a note that says, "Just in case! Love, Mom." You recognize the vial as a potion of cure light wounds.
In the next one you find a collection of cheap, tawdry, crudely printed books (the so-called “penny dreadfuls”) about dashing heroes, daring do and amply bosomed damsels prone to fainting and outdoor bathing (no resale value).
The fourth chest contains a surprisingly well written love letter ending in a proposal of marriage to someone named ‘Michelle’ and a sapphire engagement ring. The fifth contains a bottle of fine whiskey (smoky, peaty with just a hint of sweetness) without label.
The sixth chest contains a small coin pouch with the equivalent of 3 gp in miscellaneous coinage. The seventh contains a bottle of absolute rotgut without label.
The eighth chest contains ink, a quill, and personal journal which has this week's password "Hesterfield", as well as details of Blackerly's illicit gambling sessions including when the next one would be - tonight! The ninth chest contains a number of letter from home. Though they are likely poignant, they have no value.
Looking out the main door of the great hall, Hel sees the back of a fountain in the courtyard, and beyond that the gatehouse and the kennel straight ahead of her. She does not see the wall patrol - they must be out of her sight right now. She does spy two figures on top of the gatehouse armed with bows. They seem to alternate between watching the courtyard below and watching the causeway past the doors.
Demlin follows along and watches the slaughter of the men asleep. It had to be done... she thought, though she didn't like it the fact that she stood there and watched made her a part of it anyway. She set herself to looting the footlockers and taking what was of worth. The potion was the most useful thing in there. "It may take longer than we wish for me to open the rest of these. Perhaps we should return once we have secured Branderscar."
Demlin sees Hel and does likewise from the kitchen exit, watching for the location of the patrols outside.
Wesh follows along with Gallen. The fighter knows from experience that he's not the best when it comes to sneaking around.
"That potion could come in handy, but let's try to keep the fighting on our terms. So what's next?"
She looks dubiously at the guards on top of the gatehouse. "They could spot us easily enough if they looked our way - I'd hate to leave that sort of thing to chance."