Aishe has trouble staying in the rafters where Rigo placed him. It's his natural inclination to roll about in his sleep, and he's frightened of rolling out and falling into the muck below. So he takes cat-naps and keeps waking with a shudder.
It's much better than nothing however, and he's annoyed when Moira interrupts him. "What, did someone die? Time to mourn?" He listens to her suggestion though and nods smiling by the end, "You sure do like saving people. I like that. Yeah, we can try to bust one out with us - why not. As you say, it'll be a good punch to the guards, and we might need additional allies out there."
"It's a good plan. I'll do what I can to help implement it."
He shifts in his perch and tries to settle in again for a bit of rest when "Food!" is called. He clambers down and gets in the queue being formed by Rigo, careful not to cut in line fearing his sharp claws...
Quietly listening to Moria and nodding, "Any help would be good and favors are always preferred. Freeing someone from the noose is surly worth a lot. " I am stuck with a would be hero. If he is bad then killing later should be easy with the cat.
Clambering up into the rafters and ignoring the call for food. Now is likely the safest time to rest for a little bit.
It had taken a while, and Greel was rather elusive as Moira tried to steer the conversation away from her reasons for being here and more towards his crimes, but finally he admits that he was convicted of corpse theft, "A complete stitch-up of course... why would I ever involve myself in such a vile crime? There's money to be made but it's dirty money... struck on an anvil of misery".
Later on...
Sharkley is not a small man but next to Rigo and standing in deeper water, he is momentarily diminutive, "Mister... you're new here, so I'm going to let you walk away... no harm done". With a sneer, he tries to even the odds somewhat... and the tell-tale glint of steel appears in his palm.
Salom, acutely aware of the vulnerability of both himself and Audria, careful steps backward and away from the conflict brewing between Rigo and Sharkley. Of course he had heard of Rigo's slaughter of livestock, and he expects the same is about to occur.
He wonders if the Sharkley fellow has ever butchered a cow. He stays quiet for now, not wishing to upset the girl.
Moira tries one last Hail Desna to head off the conflict: "Sharkley, stop! The water's got plenty of corpses in it! That's the Beast of Wicken, he is not gonna listen, and he'll rip ya up, stand down!"
And then, what the hells, she'll try with Rigo, too:
"Rigo, you'll just be robbing the gallows if you kill that man. Don't do the prison's dirty work for it. Talk is cheap (and plentiful), we can negotiate this..."
Rigo will note, though, if he deigns to take his eyes off his prey to check on Moria, that her own attention is also fixed on Sharkley, and she's moving into position to support her feline acquaintance--she hasn't forgotten her promise to help him. She's got his back--diagonally behind him, 'bout ten feet--should things go badly.
Audria stirs at the commotion in the hold as tensions rise.
"What's goin' on," she mutters sleepily as she looks around and tries to sort everything out.
Rigo shakes his head. "The many do not get to kill the weak, and the strong do not get to prey on the weak. You are a coward, human." Rigo stalks forward, ignoring the knife. "You bully those weaker than you, and kill them slowly, with petty cruelties. This is the problem with Humans. A taste of power, and they wreck cruelties on those who are weaker or fewer than them. Let us see how you deal with one more powerful, coward."
Rigo then charges Sharkley!
+
Blood splatters in the hold as the bully Sharkley pulls a knife, and ends his own life...
Just starting to drift off and then the noise shifts. Looking up and seeing the large cat attacking the ruler of the pit. Glad he is on my side. Sleep is for the lucky or the dead.
Crawling down as swiftly as possible and looking for group she is to flee with are. Moving towards Salom and Audria while watching the drama unfold.
The confrontation, brewing since the group were first dropped into the hold, is brutally short... Sharkley's blade dropping into the filth-encrusted waters moments before he, blood pouring from a savage stomach wound and unconscious, collapses on top of it. The inevitable commotion from Sharkley's island, the brothers slipping into the water and shouting threats of revenge towards Rigo, is abruptly silenced by a banging of metal from above...
A fierce-looking guard, his beard half missing where a livid scar is smeared across his face, shouts down at the eldest of the Sharkleys, "Oi!!! Pipe down!!! He had it coming... now, less you want a quick walk to the gallows, I suggest you calm down". The point is emphasised by the glinting of steel at the tips of the crossbows pointing through the grating... muttering and staring at Rigo, murder in their eyes, the Sharkleys return to their floating pile of detritus.
...and, above them, there is a brazen exchange of money between the guards - a wager having left some of them a little poorer - and ill-tempered.
Aishe smiles as the cat mauls the Sharkley and the guards intervene on their behalf. Maybe not as they themselves planned, but the end result is helpful.
He grabs his moldy bread, or whatever the 'fine' dining is for the evening, and munches away slowly. Knowing this pleasure must last.
He's ready for midnight... or at least as ready as he will be. As the hour approaches, he gets more tense and has to force himself to relax. Be calm before the event and you'll see things more clearly. he reminds himself. Yet the press of death is too near, and he finds himself repeatedly on the balls of his feet - ready to go.
He waits, ready to go.
Rigo retrieves the knife, if he can find it, and slips it into his waist band. Then he eyes the brothers. "Can still be Sharley Brothers, or can Sharkley, or can be Former Sharkley." He then makes sure everyone in the hold gets a bit of food from the bucket.
Salom shudders in distaste. The water is already filthy, now Sharkley's innards will mingle with this horrid stew. He suddenly desires nothing more than to escape The Redemption. A feeling of panic strikes him, as he imagines that this entire story has been a ploy, a method of psychological torture, and they won't escape after all. He turns toward the wall, closing his eyes.
You will, you will, you will. He tells himself, trying to calm down.
"Nothing's going on, child," he replies to Audria. "Someone fell from the wall. Everything is fine."
Grumbling about the wager they just lost, and that there was no way that had been a fair fight, two of the guards start shouting at the prisoners below the grating, "Go Awnnn, clear a space!!! Stand back or we'll pepper you full o' bolts!!! If you ain't gonna move back there's gonna be no more food for two days... now shift!!!"
Begrudgingly, the prisoners wade back to the walls of the hold as the grating clanks open... splashing down into water twice before, on its third attempt, it finds it target with a sickening crunch - the guards lower a hook down to pull Sharkley's filth and gore-soaked corpse upwards. Trailing viscera as it does, and with vacant eyes staring accusingly at Rigo, the body is dragged up on to the walkway before being dragged, rather unceremoniously, through a door towards the aft of the vessel. Some minutes later, the tell-tale splash of water outside the boat tells of Sharkley's watery grave...
The dynamic within the hold has changed now, the Sharkleys quiet and eyeing the villagers cautiously... and, every so often, when they are confident that the guards aren't watching, gesture throat-slitting threats at them. Even the braggard Grast is exhibiting less bravado now, quietly he sits upon his 'island' - nodding whenever there is eye contact - and waits... Maybe now, with their place in the hierarchy secured, the group will have more luck determining anything about Greel... but it isn't to be, a fair proportion of the prisoners refuse to talk to Moira saying they 'don't want to get involved' or that 'they just want to be left alone' and those who do swear that they have never seen Greel before in their life, "But it wouldn't surprise me if 'e were a graverobber... there's damned good money in it if you can get away with it".
The tolling of the bells outside, muffled and indistinct, is all that there is to tell the group about the slow dragging of time... the afternoon becomes evening which, in turn, becomes night - although it remains as dark as ever in the depths of the hold. Midnight, heralded by the discordant chiming of bells over several minutes and in multiple directions, arrives and... nothing happens.
For a moment, there is that dread feeling... what if there had never been a plan to break the villagers free? What if there had been but their would-be rescuer had been discovered? A hundred scenarios, not one of them good, run through the minds of the prisoners until, at last, a figure steps across the ceiling grating towards the aft of the vessel, silhouetted briefly by a green-tinged light, the figure crouches and slides two bolts open... before stepping from view once more...
After giving up on Greel due to the hold’s new reticence and a very bad feeling about that guy, Moira finds Salom and Audria, and leans against the wall nearby. When the bell tolls, she’s more than ready to try to get out of here.
It’s time.
After the crew makes its way to the aft of the hold, Moira looks at the sheer face of the wood and feels suddenly worried. She whispers, “I’m not sure I can get up that without making a lot of noise. Maybe someone else should try to get up there and throw down a rope… or... that hook?"
Rigo stretches, and moves to the back, toward the grate. He keeps an eye on the Sharkley brothers, to make sure neither is going to make trouble. Once he reaches the wall, he climbs up easily enough.
Rigo will open the grate as silently as he can in the dark, after first checking that there are no guards waiting to kill him.
Once the grate is open, he will reach down to lift out the others.
Aishe keeps to himself and remains quiet throughout the incident though inwardly he smiles at the death of the bully. There's even a civilization of sorts down here... he thinks.
When midnight passes, he's flushed with fear, What if it was an elaborate ruse to f#+! with us? he fears, swearing silently to himself. When the door finally opens, he hyperventilates, not realizing how much he was holding his breath.
He remains below, helping to hoist folks up to the grate and Rigo's strong pull, clambering up last.
It takes a couple tries to scramble up as far as Rigo can grab, but he manages with a few seconds effort.
Moving up with the rest and moving to Moria, "What about that Greel guy?"
Waiting until as many are willing to climb up before her have gone, "I climb all the time. Some of you don't. Moria we can boost you on someones shoulders if need be."
Growling at herself but attempting again. Hate this place! I can scale building dammit!
Far from her full strenght Alexis falls back into the muck on her back. Limbs growing heavier but the will to live is stronger.
Finally pulling herself up and trying to suppress the shaking in her arms, "See do it all that time."
"I think we better not risk our skins for Greel... I just got weird vibes from him, Alexis." Under her breath, Moira adds, We already have more than our share of weirdos and madmen." Moria does, however, make sure that Grast is around for the hoisting. After he gets safely up--by whatever means we find--Moira will follow.
I'm going to hope/assume that those who've made it up can reach down or throw a scavenged chain or rope... here are some Climbs to work with.
Rigo grumbles as Moira falls back twice, and climbs down the wall, throws her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and then climbs up the wall with three limbs. He'll do the same to Grast if need be.
Rigo, the natural climber within the group, is first to the grate... his claws digging into the damp wood of the hold as he pushes the barnacle-encrusted grate open. Pulling himself through the gap, he finds himself on the deck of a boat... a mist, clinging and thick, swathes the vessel in an unpleasantly sulphurous miasma - and, of the person who unlocked the grate - or indeed anyone, there is no sign...
Lowering a length of rope into the hold, Rigo starts to bring the other escapees out of the hold... Aishe pushing Moira, after she nearly crashes back into the water, high enough that Rigo can grab her before Alexis, eschewing any help, makes her own way up... at the third time of asking. Grast, who must have been watching has already quietly slipped away from his halfling companions and joined Aishe by the time Alexis is out - grinning, he shimmys up the rope with a surprising ease...
Only Audria, Salom and Aishe remain in the hold now... and then, echoing in the darkness, menacing whispers...
"Where do you think you're goin' then?"
"Thought you'd slip out on the Sharkleys did yer?"
"No... no... no... you've got a blood debt to pay... and then we're gettin' outta here"
Rigo, seeing them in the dark, charges off the edge of the deck, using the dark to his advantage as he leaps and pounces on the first Sharkley brother, doing a death from above charge!
Audria feels her heart pounding in her chest as if it were trying to break her ribs. Through the terror, she hears a voice like flame.
Burn.
Moira had feared this would happen--unarmed, far above her friends in the hold, she wants to help but knows that a leap into the darkness would probably cause more problems than it would solve. But maybe a poem is in order... no, gotta keep quiet.
Moira will spend her actions searching around for something useful to help her friends. A crossbow? More ropes? Anything?
Salom, who had been heading through the water, Audria in tow, stumbles back as the girl begins to exude a great heat, as though she were burning up with fever. As though they didn't have enough problems, now Audria appears to suffer from a severe infection. An unexpected, though familiar, protective instinct kicks in, and Salom finds himself unwilling to to put her down, much less leave her behind.
You fool, you'll go and do it again, he thinks to himself.
Silently dropping from the grate above, Rigo - who had seen the approaching Sharkleys before they had made their murderous intentions known, lands atop the closest of the brothers with his claws fully extended. Crashing backwards, the target of Rigo's pounce slips from consciousness even before he topple into the soiled water... and, having misjudged his jump somewhat, Rigo lands awkwardly - crashing into floating detritus and sending a plume of filthy water upwards...
There are only two Sharkleys now, the eldest of them rushes at Aishe with his fists... whilst the other, swearing revenge for his youngest brother, attempts to hold Rigo beneath the water...
Meanwhile, on the deck and in the fog, Moira finds nothing of particular use...
The commotion, so far, has not been noticed by any guards on board... mercifully, the walkway above the hold is currently unmanned... but fortune won't smile for long, if this escape becomes more raucous, surely it will be detected - and stopped...
When the man reaches for Rigo's neck, he instead finds a mouth full of teeth!
Over-reaching, Rigo's attacker screams as he is pulled downwards into the filth...
Round: 1, Initiative: 8
Conditions = None
Weapon Equipped = None
Silver Blanch, Cold Iron Bolts = 20/20
Ranged: Attack: BAB +1, Dex +3, Masterwork +1 Damage: +0
Melee: Attack: BAB +1, Str +0 Damage: +0
Grit = 2/2
Aishe, weaponless, never the less meets the thug head on. Bullies just need someone to stand up to them, right? He smiles grimly to himself, This is going to hurt…
He swings on the Sharkley, provoking if his opponent has a weapon handy. But he’ll not leave Rigo alone to fend for himself, no matter how well he seems to be able to handle himself.
Aishe, shorter than his opponent, feints as he is punched at... and then, second-guessing Sharkley's move, thumps him in the face - bloodying his nose and knocking at least one tooth free...
Crouching down and calling out to Rigo, "Grab them and come up Rigo. We need to go!"
Moira lays flat on her stomach, peering into the hold, hands ready for casting. She ransacks her mental Handy Haversack of Humor to come up with something that might tickle a Sharkley... something cruelly funny, perhaps.
But only if things go real bad down there. I might need that joke later...
| 3 people marked this as a favorite. |
Burn.
The voice crackles in her mind as the Sharkleys attack after Rigo's first strike. One of them falls into the water, as good as dead as far as she can tell, and another opens his mouth, though he disappears into the water too quickly to tell if it was a curse or just a scream. She only has the one fighting Aishe to worry with.
Burn!
It grows louder more insistent as she clutches her head and softly moans in pain. She couldn't!
Couldn't what?
BURN!
Flames lick up around her. Her breath catches in her throat.
The flame moves as if a living thing. Swirling this way and that. Dancing on the surface of the water and mocking it. It engulfs the Sharkley facing Aishe like the embrace of a passionate lover and fills the air with the stench of searing flesh and burnt hair.
The flash is brilliant. So dark are the bowels of the Redemption that Salom has grown used to the blackness, learning to discern detail in only the scantest of light. He shuts his eyes against the fire, the great heat from the flames singing his hair. The burning girl becomes a torch, a terrible beacon in the night, signaling doom to those caught within her gaze.
This must be hell, he thinks. To burn and drown at the same time. Let's see Moira write a song about that.
The wave of heat breaks over Moira's face like summer sunshine. Something has happened to Audria--something amazing and terrifying. Blinded like Salom by the sudden explosion of light, she blinks away an afterimage of Audria's face. Was Audria smiling? What was that expression dawning on the face of the sweet child of Wicken...
No... she's not a child... was that some sort of... lust?
Overwhelmed by emotions, Moira's utterly horrified by the agony of the Sharkleys as they drown in fire and blood. But if her friends in the hold could discern her face in the dark and fog, they would see that she's smiling, too.
I'm... I'm going to have write a song about this, thinks Moira, catching a significant glance from Salom as her retinas heal. She's probably too shy to write it herself...
Silhouetted by flame, the Sharkley brother's face is wide-eyed with surprise as Audria lashes fire towards him... suddenly aflame, he flails backwards in a wild panic, trips over some unseen object in the murk and crashes down into the water. The fire is instantly doused... but the thug, sinking, does not stand back up...
The explosion of light within the hold, even though it was fleeting, has roused even the most desperate of the captives... for a moment, they saw the fight... the open grate... the rope... escape... and now, the noise and excitement starts to build - voices call out...
"Take us with you!!!"
"Don't leave us behind!!!"
"I can pay..."
His blood, barely discernible in the darkness, colouring the foul waters, the last of the Sharkley brothers tries in vain to wrench clear of Rigo's jaws...
Rigo shakes his head viciously!
Rigo stands up in the dark, and shakes his entire body, flinging water off, and shaking the brother like a ragdoll. He flings his head and tosses the brother off into the darkness. "Up, now."
He grabs Audria like a sack of potatoes in passing, and leaps upward, clawing his way to the grate.
Jerking back from staring down into the pit and landing on her butt. Twisting her head around in hopes that the glow did not garner any attention while speaking in a low voice, "Is everyone dead down there Moira?"
Half-way up, Rigo grabs Audria from his shoulder and tosses her up onto the ledge. Then he reaches down and grabs Aishe or Salom, whoever is closest, and heaves them up. Then he does the same with the last person.
"Go, leave rope, others will begin screaming if we don't, let them be distraction." Rigo growls, softly.
Salom passes Audria off to the cat, still numb and unsure what to think, then tries to make his way up toward the grate before he is dragged back down by that throng of those doomed to stay.
"Aishe!" he yells, turning to lend a hand.
Aishe, expecting a long drawn out bloody fight against his opponent, fleshy fists slapping on flesh back and forth until one of them is burger and falling, is surprised when his opponent catches fire and dies in the muck.
He quickly looks around for the source of the fire, and sees the smoldering eyes of Audria staring at her foe. OK then, this is one you don't piss off - got it?
As the brothers drop and the others begin to holler, he readies to climb only to be somewhat man-handled by the giant cat and pulled by Salom. He manages his way through the hole and immediately turns around to help the others up and out.
(plus aid)
Though the screams for help ring in his ears, survival tells him they cannot take the crowd. Just their planned wererat and agent - no more. When the expected party is clear, he moves off looking for their boat, and freedom.
To Alexis “I think some of the Sharkleys are dead, but there’s a lot of noise and a lot of voices for everyone to be dead. And I didn’t see any necromancy or illusion spells cooking off, so I think… look! Here they come!”
Rigo leaps by carrying Audria in his mouth. Moira has a flashback to watching her beloved childhood cat emerging from the dark basement, a cluttered hole that always frightened Moira, but the cat was unafraid, and had a kitten in her mouth. And then carried out another… and another… and another. Somehow that makes me feel better about Rigo. Maybe he’s not so terrible. The cat whirls around and leaps back into the hold. Just like old times.
Her pondering over Rigo is interrupted when she spots Salom scrambling up the wall toward the hatch. “Come on, toymaker! It's a lovely night for a stroll around the deck!"
Just below the rim of the grate, Salom’s fingers reach for a handhold that never existed--it was just a twist of fog. But Moira lunges and grabs his wrist, hauling with all her might. After dragging Moira along the deck toward the hole a bit (and nearly getting sucked back down), Salom manages to arrest his fall with his other limbs. Soon he’s rolling over the lip of the grate and onto the deck.
"Hi!" Moira gasps while catching her breath. "Where's Aishe?"
A flash of fur and the sodden wagoner emerges from the dusky murk, and her question is answered: we're all out.
To Rigo, she says, "We don't have any rope... but let's leave it open... give them a chance..."
Rigo nods. "Distraction to guards." The cat says pragmatically. Then he motions to the rope that was tossed down earlier. "Rope was here, dropped it, nobody use it but Halfling. Not sure why. Good rope. Leave for others." He rumbles softly, his eyes peering through the darkness, looking for the nearest railing to see if the promised raft is there.
Salom hauls himself over the edge of the grate with a groan, releasing his vice-like grip on Moira's wrist. Strong for a lady. He lies on his back as the world spins. He tries not to vomit. Succeeds, for the time being.
“Come on, toymaker! It's a lovely night for a stroll around the deck!"
"Maybe--" He pants as he staggers to his feet, still unsteady. "Maybe we'll count and name th' stars." He looks to Audria. "They are burning so bright this night. Child. When, when were you planning on telling us about that talent of yours?" He lifts Audria's chin in his hand, staring intently into each of her eyes. Is she even human?
"No matter, we must be quick as...cats."
Keeping her eyes outward, "Glad you all made it up."
Voices continue to echo around the hold as the group, having done the hangman's job with the Sharkley brothers, finally clamber free from the horrific place... and then, piercing through the darkness, a shrill whistle tells that the officers upon this dreadful prison hulk... know that something untoward has occurred.
Leaving the grate open to allow the chaos to continue, Salom, Aishe and Audria take their first breaths of what passes for fresh air here in the middle of the Great Lyme River... the acrid smog that blankets the river clings tightly to the Redemption and makes it difficult to see the entirety of the vessel - although flickering lanterns to the stern and the aft cast enough light to illuminate several vessels lashed alongside the Redemption.
Moving quickly to the side of the ship, and looking down to where Eleanor Shank said it would be, a boat has been tied against the side of the Redemption... a rope ladder, clearly put in place by whoever opened the grate, trails down to the boat... and the villagers' ticket off of this ship.
"Thank the gods, and let's get out of here."
Moira wastes no time--glancing over her shoulder to make sure that all of her companions and Grast are present, she hustles down the rope ladder and checks out the boat for oars, sails, whatever--she'll use her hands if she has to. Not that she has Profession: Sailor. But she'll try.
Aishe stays topside, helping folks onto the ladder until it's time to go, then he follows the group.
He's careful to count heads as he goes, ensuring the party and their two followers are present but no one else.