Learning that they had finally found their things, Jaq couldn't help but rush over to collect his things. The first thing he reached for was his war razor. Flicking it before closing it again, he stashed it in the belt around his waist. He clipped his crossbow there as well before packing the rest of his things in to his backpack for later.
"I just had the most wonderfully condemning idea. One that could very well destroy any good reputation Blackerly might possess. It would keep him from being a martyr if what I have planned works." It had been as he had been holding his razor that it had occurred to him. They even had a paladin's body to use too. "If you have things in control in here, I'll go take care of the reputation ruining."
Veldrin intones a minor spell to let him sense any mystical auras, and looks around the room once more
"I am curious what you have in mind my foul friend" He asks of Jaq, before he takes his leave.
Eyes attuned to the arcane, Veldrin scans the storeroom. The room is devoid of any sort of magical auras.
"Oh, just letting the world know that Blakerly's been consorting with fiends in his chambers. Recently at that via the blood of a slain paladin of Mitra." As he headed out the door to fetch said paladin body, Jaq looked back over his shoulder. "Your welcome to help if you like."
Vincent grinned at the sight of oil, his eyes furrowing a bit as he thinks of the ways it could be used. His tail swished a bit behind him as he heard Jaq's plan coming to light. He waved his hand dismissively at the idea, as he wasn't too keen on it before spinning around. "You wouldn't happen to need a bit of help making it look a bit more grisly by chance? I'm fairly capable now that I have my tools of the trade back at making...a scene."
Veldrin chuckles at Jaq's plan, "By all means my friend, carry out thy dastardly plan. I believe I will raid the armory, and see about arming our lovely new friends here so that we can end as many lives as possible." He says as he makes his way over to the door leading to said armory.
Veldrin walks over to the door and notices that there is no lock on it! Perhaps the guards assumed that no one would be able to make it past the lock on the storeroom itself?
At Vincent and Jaq's words, Grumblejack chuckles again, "Oi there lads, I think I can help a bit with that. Hows about I smash up his lil office a bit? I can make it LOOK like a blasted demon tore through there!"
As his other companions discuss how to ruin Blakerly even more, the drow turns to Markus. "Around how many guards in total would you say are still alive within the prison? and do you happen to know how long it would take for reinforcements from elsewhere to arrive here? Also, is there any way for the prison to send messages to request said help?"
He then checks the armory door with his cantrip to make sure there's no magkical auras on it. If he sees none, he'll open the door.
Markus stammers out an answer, still somewhat nervous about the ways things are panning out, "A-about twenty or thirty more guards, some warhounds, and the Warden, of course. Any reinforcements would take a full day to get here, assuming someone was able to send a message with a c-courier. There's no other way to get aid, but there's never been a problem with handling prisoners before, I mean uh, before you all!"
Veldrin observes the armory door and discovers no magical auras upon it. A faint magical aura lies beyond it, however, so small as to be almost inconsequential.
Veldrin smiles at Markus "Relax my friend. I told you, you're my man now! You've been a great help, and I promised I would pay for your Janiviere's medical needs, remember?" He dips into his money pouch and hands the former guard ten gold. "Hope this is enough for now. Keep up the good work and there will definitely be more in the future"
Markus' eyes go wide, as if it had been a while since he had seen that much gold, "T-thank you, Mr.d'Shraen! That's about a year's worth of pay! Mitra... I mean, fortune bless you!" The man places the gold into the nearly empty pouch at his hip. "What do you intend to do, once you have escaped?"
"I'm not sure yet, beyond keeping an appointment we have. I'm not exactly from around here, so we'll see what the gods have in store for me"
He then opens the door to the armory, and peers around inside
Veldrin peers into the room. It is nearly identical to the one he is currently in, save for the room's contents.
Inside the room appear to be several items of use. On a long table of some dark wood, there are six spare sets of gear for guards, composed of chain shirts, heavy steel shields, long swords and longbows. There is also a rack holding a dozen leather-wrapped clubs.Further, there is also a stockpile of 240 arrows in twelve quivers hanging from hooks in the wall. These items (save for the arrows and the clubs) all seem to bear the mark of Talingarde somewhere on them.
There is also a motley assortment of weaponry that the guards have apparently confiscated over the years, laying on another table adjacent to the one previously noticed. These weapons are jumbled together and obviously little cared for. They are unmarked, unlike the other weapons in the armory. That assortment includes: a shiv made from a women’s metal comb, a heavy mace, spear, quarterstaff, battle axe, rapier, great sword, trident and glaive. On the wall, a small scepter sits, hung by its wooden crook, it's shape reminiscent of the shape Veldrin saw when he scanned for magical auras.
"Well lads n lasses, it looks like we've found some fun toys. I say gear up and lets have a little fun with our 'friends' who are likely awaiting us" He says as he makes his way to the mace, which he starts to examine.
Veldrin picks up and examines the plain wooden scepter, which appears to be made out of ashwood, intent on determining it's magical properties... but fails to do so.
Sure lol!
Veldrin examines the scepter further. The magic energy seems to be some sort of holding magic, but the magic seems almost gone from the object, with mere wisps on energy flowing over the weapon.
"This will be useful" Veldrin says as he hangs the mace off his belt.
"Both of you are welcome to help. The more dastardly it looks the better. I'll take care of the ritual set-up if you two take care of the paladin's body and the rest of the room. I should have access to enough blood to take care of this quiet nicely."
After the paladin's body has been moved, Jaq begins to set up a summoning ritual. He uses blood to create the markings.
Grumblejack nods and exits the room, returning in about a minute bearing the paladin's dead body, which he plops onto the ground. While Jaq prepares the ritual, Grumblejack takes the opportunity to smash the furnishings of the room, causing wood splinters to fly in several directions and making the room REALLY look like an angry demon tore it apart! He bellows a maniacal laugh as he does so.
Veldrin makes a large, sweeping gesture, indicating all the various weapons in the room "Mirri my dearest, Markus my friend, please, help yourselves. I believe there will be much combat to be had shortly. Tis best to be prepared."
Vincent would come along with his kit. Once Grumblejack had laid down the body and Vincent ensured that it would not upset the scene, he began to use his torture kit to make the scene a bit more gruesome. He carved in a few words of power in abyssal meant to help control a demon and even made a mistake to help with the idea that the demon wasn't under the summoners full power.
Mirri and Markus riffle through the weapons, trying to find something of use. Mirri picks up the comb shank with a chuckle and Markus picks up the heavy mace, testing it's heft.
Vincent carves numerous jagged Abyssal runes in the paladin's headless corpse, successfully mimicking a demonic sacrifice. He does, however, deliberately botch the last rune, so that it would 'explain' why the 'summoning' went awry.
Once his companions have armed themselves, Veldrin goes back out into the office and makes his way to the second door. "Any idea what's in the room beyond Markus?"
"Markus, do you happen to know what the standard protocol is, once the signal horn is blown? Do the majority of the guards come rushing into the keep? Do they send only a few to investigate first?"
"The standard protocol for when a horn is blown is for guards to strategically converge on the area surrounding where the horn was blown and do a systematic sweep. Given that there hasn't been many horn-blowings, probably one since I have worked here, I'm not sure how fast the guard could coordinate."
Veldrin starts to pace a bit "Hmm, I wonder. Vincent, do you think we could set up some sort of barricade that we could set on fire at the front entrance, and basically pick off the guards as they try to get at us inside? I figure if we blow the horn, they'll try to come render aid to those inside. I feel this would be a much better plan than us trying to head out there and take the fight to them, on their terms."
Vincent thought about what Veldrin was saying and leaned against the wall looking at the whale oil barrels. He stood there a good minute just scratching at his chin with his tail in deep contemplation. "I think I have an interesting idea but I will need to see the courtyard or front gate before I say any more. While I like your idea, I fear it lacks the....satisfying end that I would wish for." He said carefully. When the others began to move, the normally eager and aggressive child of the damned was following along in the back in seemingly autopilot contemplating heavily.
The necromancer chuckles "I'm more than willing to hand over this little project to you, my fiendish friend. In the meantime, let me see if I can't bust into this lockbox, in case anything of import or use lies inside"
Veldrin's steady ray of frozen energy causes ice crystals to form on the lock, weakening it's integrity.
Once everything was just so, Jaq couldn't stop the smile that crossed his face. As the others starting to focus on other things, he decided to focus on the final piece of this wonderful setup, remnant magic from a summoning. Taking a handful of the Paladin's blood, Jaq holds it in front of him like an offering and begins chant.
"გამოვიდეს,
დატოვე შენი სახლში თვითმფრინავი.
ეწოდება ამ სისხლის
მე მოწვევა შენ აქ
მოდი, Deirdre."
Come forth,
Leave thy home plane.
Called by this Blood
I summon thee here
Come, Deirdre.
For a moment, after Jaq stopped speaking, all was quiet. Then the sound of a think sludge moving and bubbling could be heard. A puddle made of a think substance the color of blood formed and grew in front of Jaq. Slowly, something rose from it and took shape. Once it reached a height of about seven feet and the form of a female, it began to solidify. The skin turned a deathly pale that was covered in deep slashed, long claws that seemed to be made of blood, extended from her fingers. Long, hair darkened to a red-toned black; Her eyes appeared to be gouged out. On her forehead, was the demon rune of Sifkesh.
Fully formed, she moved quick, her claws threateningly placed under Jaq's chin, the blood in his hand currently ignored. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you where you stand." Her tone was angry as she bared her viciously sharp teeth at him.
With a matching rune of Sifkesh on his forehead, Jaq just smiled at her. "Because you'd miss me. What would life be with out me around. Think of all the fun we have together." Jaq reached up with the hand not holding blood to gently pat the hand holding him hostage. "I'm sorry, Dre. I know you are mad at me because I sent you away. They threw me in Branderscar. I didn't want to risk them doing something to you. But don't you worry, I called you just in time for the really fun stuff. Some of the others and I are breaking out and you, my dear, get to play the wonderful part of ruining the sergeant's reputation. As you can tell if you look around. He botched a demon summoning, and demon summoning just so happens to be a very major crime. How does it look for a Sergeant in charge of Branderscar to be consorting with demons..."
He could tell Deirdre was calming down. Her claws weren't as jammed under his chin and a smile was starting to form on his face. Yes, he was likely forgiven. "I didn't even tell you the best part, he 'sacrificed' a paladin to do it. Allowing me, to give you a special treat, fresh killed paladin blood."
That caught Deirdre's attention, her gaze focused on his hand. It was when her hand moved from his chin to his hand, that he knew all was forgiven. The paladin blood left his hand to disappear into the various gashes on Deirdre. Once it was all gone, he moved to leave the room, motioning for her to follow. "Let me introduce you to the rest of us."
"Mirri, be a dear and pop this box open for me? I'm curious to see what's inside." Veldrin offers her the lockbox.
Vincent would pause after a bit of wandering and pondering before looking around. He noticed Grumblejack and Jon were unoccupied for a moment and motioned them over before whispering to them. His tail thrashing about behind him as he spoke. After a brief exchange, he turned about and walked up to Markus with an evil gleam in his eye. His sharp nails flashing up and carefully licking over the skin of his throat as he whispered into the man's ear for a bit.
Miri bashes the lock a few times with the pommel of her dagger until the lock breaks and a 'click' is heard. She then smirks and opens the lockbox , revealing a case of a cheap and rotgut but extremely potent whiskey known labeled Sinner's Tongue, a large amount of golden coins , and a recipe scribbled on a piece of paper entitled 'Sleep Medicine', which details mixing Sinner's Tongue Whiskey with faint traces of Belladonna to make a powerful sleep concoction.
Markus whispers to Vincent, occasionally turning to eye nearby people.
The sentry golem has taken you to the top of the Warden's tower at Branderscar prison. The drafty tower air causes your recently created runic F brands, denoting your status as Forsaken, to feel as if it were being branded again. You ascend a staircase and walk into the Warden's office. You look to the left, right next a massive bookcase, and see a golden plaque that reads Justice cometh and that right soon.. You look to your right and see an ornate check with some sort of glowing lock on it. You then look forward and, sitting at a desk before a stained glass window depicting Mitra as the 'Bringer of Justice', is an old man dressed in a garb reminiscent of the guards, but of much higher quality, trimmed with golden thread. He stares at you with his steely blue right eye, his left eye covered in a black eye patch, his face an impassive mask. He speaks to you both, his voice somber and without an ounce of weakness, "The assassin and the monster, I presume? Elara and... Mek, or is it Rek?".
Elara's eyes flicker over the area with feigned disinterest. They finally settle on the Warden. The back of her neck pricks with goosebumps as she matches his gaze, and her hand inadvertently makes a slight twitch towards her waist; the place where her weapons would have rested had they not been taken away. She quickly brings her movements back under control, and opens her mouth to speak. The fetchling's voice contains a hint of gravel in it, and her words are spoken quickly and with efficiency. "You presume," she says in agreement. Elara indicates herself with a small gesture. "Not guilty."
The fetchling tilts her head slightly towards Mek and Rek, not taking her eyes from the Warden. "'Less you mean he's the assassin and monster both. Can only speak for me."
Vincent listened to the man's whispers and began to cackle a hissing bit of laughter. He grined mischievously at the man and looked over his shoulder towards the group. "That's your only worry? I think I am not the only one with a mind to give the warden a bit of payback in this group,no?" he said addressing the group in manner. "I,for one, plan to make sure that he enjoys the same punishment he brandished upon me ten fold before I am done."
The "monster" seems to be having trouble deciding how to respond to the situation "it" finds itself in. A huge, muscular creature with two heads, the Brothers are quite a sight. Wearing some undersized rags that leave them practically naked, and some heavy-duty shackles, they look every bit the death-row criminals they are. The right head, bald and tusked, seems if not comfortable, at least calm about the current predicament. The left head, with a shock of wild brown hair and a more animated expression, seems antsy and even excited.
Mek frowns deeply, his calm but cold amber eyes first looking over the man, then the woman who was similarly branded. "I am Mek Rite," the right half of the two-headed Oggr begins in an unexpectedly soft-spoken voice, "An' 'ey call me Rek Lehf," the left half finishes, spittle flying as he enthusiastically introduces himself. Neither of the Brothers shows even an ounce of fear or worry in their eyes, and while Mek remains mostly passive, Rek grins almost mockingly at the others gathered in the room. "Well 'en, brotha, what'd'ya think o' all 'ese dibbles muckin' 'bout? Nothin' we can't 'andle, roight?" Rek continues to glance around the room, the same foolish grin on his face. "We're shackled and unarmed, brother. What exactly do you intend to do?" his twin replies, an exasperated look on his face.
As the well-dressed man gives the two a severe look that clearly reads as a demand to be quiet, Mek sighs. "For what reason would you even bring us here, instead of just throwing us in a cell to rot? You have no intention of listening to anything we have to say." Rek joins in, saying, "Yeah, 'at's roight! Yer all jus' gonna take us down the banks!" Their bindings clink against themselves as the so-called monster turns their twin gazes on the gathered guards and prisoner in turn, once more.