3:05 am
Izabelle addresses Gregor, gesturing to the exit. "Well, you heard the man. Quickly, get him into the carriage - a man's life depends on it! We'll join you in a moment, we need to quickly discuss the situation with the sergeant."
"Twigs, got those keys?" she glances across at the rogue briefly before turning to Blackerly. "You're wasted here, you know that, Tomas. Working under the thumb of these mindless beurocrats. A keen mind and the strength to back it up." Izabelle pats her side where his blade cut her deep. "It's a rare find, especially these days."
Izabelle takes a quick glance around and pulls the Sergeant close, whispering in his ear.
"Now remember, sergeant, we're ghosts. None escaped from Branderscar this day, under the eye of Tomas Blackerly. And as long as it stays that way, no spectres will return to haunt you."
She slowly pulls away, smiling evilly at him.
Izabelle waits for a moment, gauging his reaction. "Now turn around, we'll do something about those manacles."
Realizing how dark it was, Gil conjured up another Dancing Light, this time in the shape of a ghostly humanoid shame which shed barely any light, but enough for his elven eyes to see clearly.
3:05 am
Roaring with a fury that hasn't yet been witnessed by the group, the ogre barges into the room and pauses about 15 feet in as he looks to the left and right trying to get his bearings.
The room appears in sharp contrast to all the rooms you've seen in Branderscar thus far. Tastefully decorated with expensive furnishings and quite large - large enough to take up almost three quarters of the top floor, the room curves around the central staircase wall and continues on to the east . To the immediate south of the door is a sitting area with two cushioned chairs and a table in between them. A small bookshelf rests beside one of the chairs.
WIZARD!!!! WAKE UP WIZARD! Where you be?! 'jack gonna make yer head hurt now! roars Grumblejack as he rounds the corner to the east and disappears out of view of the group.
y-yes ma'am answers a clearly intimidated perspiring Gregor as he lifts Numair's unconscious form and carries him to the floor of the carriage.
Tomas grunts noncommittally as Izabelle pulls close to his ear. Of course it's wasted! And you people are taking away everything I worked for all these years. Do you think I enjoy working for these bureaucrats? But it keeps me fed with a few coins to spare every so often. And now thanks to you lot, keen mind or not, I'll be starting from scratch! So what choice do I have?! Go on the run like you? Live hunted by the so-called mindless bureaucrats? Ha! Do you folks have any idea how difficult your lives are going to be on the run?
He pauses and looks Izabelle in the eye as if trying to read her soul.You're *NOT* ghosts - all those bodies you left are going to be hard to explain with no escape. But we shall see what we shall see. You won't get a challenge from me but - he spares a quick glance at Gregor who is almost finished loading Numair - don't count on your escape until you are on the mainland.
Besides... that one has seen me cooperate with you... he looks meaningfully at Gregor sharing an unspoken look with the druid before he turns around offering his manacled hands.
Hefting his club, Felrin moves quickly after the ogre, ready to attack anything he sees.
"Those bodies were the work of an an ogre and the inmates raiding the warden's tower, Sergeant." She says simply, before gesturing to herself and Twigs. "We died here, consumed by the warden's magic, or swallowed by the sea."
She looks to the exit, taking a short, sharp breath.
"This is goodbye, Sergeant. Let's hope, for both our sakes, we don't meet again." Izabelle gives Tomas one last glance before making for the carriage. Passing Twigs, she gives him a knowing nod. "It's time for this eagle to spread her wings. I've been caged for far too long."
3:05 am
Grumblejack followed by Malum and Felrin round the corner into the L-shaped room while Giltharon ducks behind a chair to provide covering fire in case its needed.
Around the corner lies a fancy bed made of oak which looks quite ornate in keeping with the room's expensive decor. Across the bed is a full length mirror with a wardrobe beside it. Two end tables sit on either side of the bed. On the north end of the L-shaped room, is a heavy wooden writing desk with a rather cushy chair. Beside the desk lies a sturdy looking chest.
The room itself, appears to be quite empty (although Grumblejack mistakes his own reflection in the mirror as someone else and almost smashes it before realizing the error).
The group stands in the center of the room, looking at each other with a questioning look on their collective faces - their unspoken question voiced only by a soft rumble that emanates from the ogre Where de wizard?
Tomas goes over to the door leading to the kitchen watching the others get in the carriage. Gregor, sitting in the driver's seat watches his occupants enter the carriage, still wide-eyed and tongue-tied. A small slot in the carriage lets anyone in the cabin communicate and visually see the driver. There are windows in the carriage itself with blinds that can be drawn to ensure privacy.
Clicking his tongue twice, the servant flicks the reins and the horses move forward as per their routine with a practiced gait.
"Think the stiff is going to wake up?" he asks to nobody in particular, letting the silence hang in the air. He licks his lips, as if savoring the taste of the opportunity. "Split three ways, das' a pretty penny. What're we gonna do about the others?" he says, peering through a crack in the shutters, prying them open ever so slightly.
Felrin looks around quickly, taken aback that their quarry is not to be found. He raises a hand in front of him, fingers spread fan-like, and sweeps it in an arc, muttering, "He's got to be around somewhere. And how are we supposed to find Numair's spell book when the guy's passed out downstairs?"
He looked at Jack "It is strange that he would not be here. Maybe he is behind that other door out in the hallway? Could you go have a look while we make sure he isn't hiding somewhere in here?"
Once done checking for spellbooks, Gil started looking around the room, checking for any latches or similar that might open a secret door.
"Who knows?" Izabelle says vaguely. "At any rate, it's not our problem."
"Driver." She shifts herself closer to the slot and addresses Gregor directly. "I want you to keep this quiet for now. Things could get rough if word gets out, and we don't have time to deal with that. It's not something that the boys at the gate have to know about, so let's leave it to the Sergeant to explain later. Understood?"
3:10 am
Felrin and Giltharon mutter arcane words under their breath hoping to cause anything magical to give off its telltale glow. Unfortunately, nothing seems to show itself - it's either well-hidden or non-existent.
Not willing to give up, the half-elf starts a thorough search of the room, searching behind nooks and crannies, under the bed, behind the mirror. His search eventually pays off as he lifts up a corner of the rug the bed sits on. Under the rug, by the mirror is a curious burn mark - irregularly shaped, roughly 2 to 3 feet in diameter at its widest point. In an ornately decorated room, it certainly feels out of place when exposed.
y-yes ma'am, B-bela ma'am Gregor stammers out. The man is very obviously terrified out of his wits.
The carriage rolls slowly towards the double doors of the gatehouse without being challenged. A moment ma'am, while I open the gates he says softly tilting his head towards the slot. Sliding off his seat, he walks slowly over to the double doors and starts heaving on them.
As he leaves his driver's position, you can see more clearly through the slot. The heavy wooden double doors sit in the middle of the three level gatehouse. Two lanterns are visibly bobbing and moving about at the top level, which must be the roof. A voice calls out from the top. Ho Gregor! Off for the nightly milk run?
Gregor pauses his efforts with the doors open about 5 feet and answers a simple Yes sir.
Watch out for those wolves and dryads the voice replied with a hearty chuckle. Don't worry about getting the door behind you. We'll get it at shift-change. I can't wait to get warm and out of this miserable sea-wind up here!
o-ok sir. The password is 'Ramshorn'. replies Gregor as he finishes opening the second set of doors for the carriage to pass through. Climbing back in his seat, he clicks his tongue twice and flicks the reins. The horses pick up the pace a bit and pass through the gatehouse as Izabelle and Twigs let out their collective breaths.
Peering through the cracks in the blinds, you get your first sight outside Branderscar in what seems like months (although you were only brought here a few days ago). Past the gatehouse, the path winds to the east heading downhill slightly and then doubles back on itself, before finally narrowing down as the carriage approaches a stone bridge. Made of stone, the bridge appears to connect the island Branderscar sits on to the mainland. There's a two foot tall guard rail on either side of the roughly 120 foot long bridge. It's just wide enough to allow the carriage to pass through (about 15 feet). Anyone wanting to get by would need to squeeze through the narrow space left between the railing and the carriage.
The horses seem keen to get on the mainland leaving the castle behind. As the carriage nears the end of the bridge, a small guardpost comes into view sitting on the mainland proper. The end of the bridge is blocked off by a portcullis inside a stone arch blocking entry to the mainland or to the island depending on what side one is on.
The druid notices a lever built into the arch right outside the stone guard post - perhaps used to raise/lower the portcullis? or perhaps a decoy?
A bored looking guard sits by the guardpost leaning back on his chair watching the carriage roll up close. As Gregor brings the carriage to a stop, the guard looks up. Hello Gregor. Running a bit late tonight? You know the drill. Can't raise the gate without the password of the week.
Y-yessir answers the man. This week it's R-rashm-ramshorn. It's 'Ramshorn' sir.
The lone guard nods and stands, moving towards the lever. Halfway there, he pauses and looks back to Gregor. Oh, I almost forgot Gregor. My spare armor needs to go to the tanner in Varyston to be stitched up. I need you to take it in for me. It's on the chair in the room at the back - nodding to the inside of the guard post. Go on and grab it before you go.
Gregor nods mutely.
I personally suspect magic, given the rooms owner. Maybe a transportation spell? He may have heard us out in the hallway before we entered." He looked back at the bookcase. "Why dont you two have a closer look while I go perform the task I intended."
Moving to the bookcase, he started picking books out one by one, opening each and turning a few center pages to see what each was about.
Malum will glance at the burn mark. "Its a burn mark. Either the warden has some sort of fire magic that he tested here, or he dropped some lit oil. Worst case scenario is that there is no warden, that Blackerly has killed him and is running the prison himself. And since he has 'managed' to split our team quite effectively, I think it is past time we left"
Malum will start moving back towards the exit, crossbow at the ready to put a nice bolt into the warden or any guard that shows up.
Numair continues to be unconscious. :-)
(But he will NOT be happy when he wakes up ...)
Watching everyone file out of the room in search of freedom, his thoughts drifted to what was to be done once he was outside. He would need money that was for sure. Moving to the check he chest if it was locked.
3:10 am
Feeling lucky, he moves to the chest as the others pile out of the room, hoping to find any other hidden treasures.
The chest isn't locked but it does happen to be trapped. Unfortunately, the half-elf fails to notice the trap... fortunately, the trap appears to be directed inwards at the contents of the chest. As he lifts the lid, there's a loud *whump* as a hidden latch releases a cylinder and ignites something flammable in the chest.
Giltharon scurries backwards as the contents of the chest catch fire and burn with an unnatural vigor. Flasks of chemicals combine with sparks and release rather foul odours, papers crackle merrily - whatever was in the chest was definitely something the warden didn't want strangers snooping into.
Cursing under his breath, he quickly joins the other two and the ogre by the shattered door to the warden's quarters.
"Right, can't say that a damn thing went right on this little trip up the stairs. Doesn't look like you came back with much, Gil. Let's get out of here, before that wizard decides to take us by surprise for ruining his door."
Felrin leads the way down the stairs.
Malum's appraise roll for the dagger DC 18
Appraise
Close but no cigar. The dagger is probably worth something. :)
He gives Numair an unceremonious nudge with the tip of his boot. "Oi! Get up yew lazy git. Yew up for a bit of a swim... eh?" He grimaces as the wizard doesnt stir. "Guess it's a fight then, innit?"
3:15 am
Giltharon and Malum follow Felrin down the stairs with the ogre in tow. They're almost at the bottom of the tower when off in the distance, ring out multiple blasts of signal horns.
Quickly descending the few remaining stairs, the group makes haste out of the tower, taking care to avoid stepping on the pressure plate trap. Once outside, they pause to get their bearings. The signal horn blasts continue and appear to be coming from the north and west side of the main prison building (the tower is near the southern end of the prison building). There's no sign of the unconscious Numair, the druid or the gangly thief... or of the slippery sergeant. It appears whatever element of surprise the group had is now definitely lost as the entire prison complex seems to be slowly but surely rousing itself.
Gregor slides out of the driver's seat nodding mutely at the guard, perspiring heavily in the cool night. Right on that chair in there points the guard, as the cook walks into the guard-post, closing the door behind him...
The guard glances at the guard-post, apparently satisfied with what he sees... and pulls out the signal horn and longsword at his sides giving three sharp blasts!
Izabelle and Twigs watch the sudden change in their escape plans as there are multiple answering signal blasts behind them - from the castle/prison complex itself.
Alright scum - out of the carriage and let's head you on back to your cells where you belong says the guard leveling his longsword at the carriage as he moves to the door. He chuckles RAMSHORN is our alert for prisoners on the loose!
Too late, the duo realize that Tomas had mentioned there were protocols in place to place the guards on alert... a false password must have been one of them! Growling under her breath, Izabelle recalls in hindsight the terrified look on Gregor's face as Tomas reminded him that the password was 'ramshorn'... and that Gregor gave the password 'ramshorn' to the guards atop the guardhouse unbidden, with no prompting whatsoever as he opened the double doors.
Snarling at their cursed luck, she looks to the rear of the carriage... and sees multiple bobbing lights in the distance - likely a dozen or perhaps more torches moving towards them. Seems like an entire contingent of guards has been roused by the guardhouse...
Fumbling with his crossbow for a moment, Twigs unleashes two shots in quick succession, felling the unlucky guard at the door outright.
"Damn them! Leaving us behind! Well, it sounds like they've found trouble, and will likely serve as a useful distraction for us. I think you're right, Gil, getting on the wall may be our best bet. But first, let's get out of sight."
Felrin moves to the shadows of the tower and studies his surroundings, looking for any way to access the prison wall.
3:15 am
Felrin waves his companions over to where he stands in the shadows, then points out the smaller towers along the outside walls.
"Those towers may get us up onto the walls. I say we head for that closest one and make our way along the walls toward the north side, where we can see what's going on and try to make a break for the mainland. If we have to, we can try to climb down the outside of the wall, I've got 50 feet of rope - but let's get up there and figure out the best place to do that."
"That sounds like a plan, it seems the others are our distraction to escape.
Well the coast looks clear to Malum but the tin cans tied around his feet are annoying. /sigh
"The guards will almost certainly be on the alert, with all the ruckus going on. And with the racket you're all making, speed is probably more important than stealth. I'd say we have two options. Gil and I try to sneak ahead and see what's what, or we just move as fast as we can. I'm not eager to split us up further, so I say we get to that tower and get inside fast. We'll deal with any opposition at that point, and Jack can take the lead on that."
Too lazy to make a spoiler. :)
"Agreed, let us use speed to get where we need to go and hope that everyone is focused on the commotion."
Izabelle busts open the carriage door and swings out of it, a manic grin on her face.
"And here I thought this part would be boring!" she bellows.
She swings across to the front, rushing towards the portcullis. She takes a leap, rattling the gate as she grips onto the bars.
EDIT
3:15 am
Agile as a panther, freedom so close she can almost taste it, the druid leaps at the gate and scales it easily. She pauses at the top of the arch to take a quick look down at her feet.
The top of the stone arch is covered by an iron grille (which is what Izabelle currently stands on). Underneath the grill she can see an off-center iron shaft stretching from one end of the arch to the other with thick iron chains hanging off the left, right and center of the shaft. These chains stretch down to the iron portcullis.
Taking it all in, she nods to herself before leaping down the other side on the mainland. Freedom! The question remains though - can she elude her pursuers long enough to hang on to her hard-earned freedom?
Izabelle takes a deep breath as she rises from the ground, her eyes turning skyward to orient herself.
North.
She pivots, casting a glance back at the bridge. Her heart pounds as her eyes dart from the bobbing lights of the advancing horde towards the carriage holding Numair's prone figure.
"Can you get it open?" she calls out, hurriedly looking to Twigs. There's no time...
Izabelle gets her bearings as she looks about, now on the mainland side of the portcullis. A dirt path continues north leading away from the portcullis for roughly 50 yards, shrubs and rocks on either side of the path before the land slopes down to the water. 50 yards inland, the dirt path appears to join up with a well formed roadway that seems to go in a general east-west direction. This time of the night, the roadway appears to be fairly deserted. Recalling the map (not to scale AT ALL) the group found in Tomas' office, she gathers it's likely The King's Highway. Not much else can be seen in the darkness (i.e. no low light vision = limited visibility at night - she can see up to the roadway that's about it)
Twigs will bolt to the lever, throwing all of his weight onto it, snarling desperately with the effort.
3:15 am
As Izabelle watches from the other side, Twigs runs to the lever and hauls on it for all he's worth. It moves surprisingly easily, likely from its nightly use. There's a loud *clank* somewhere in the interior of the arch and a deep rumble as the chains start to move. The portcullis swings open and Twigs watches the smirking Izabelle standing 5 feet away from him with no gate in between them.
"Ha!" Izabelle pumps her fist as the portcullis slides open, glad that she won't have to escape solo as expected.
She doesn't even wait for the gate to fully open before sliding under and leaping up into the driver's seat, taking the reigns in balled fists. She looks over at Twigs, gesturing for him to jump on. "Let's fly."