Izabelle clenches her fists, frustrated at being unable to get into the thick of things. She narrows her eyes and focuses her mind...
... but finds her link stifled by the unnatural aura. Snarling, she just decides to close the gap as best she can.
"Awh, $hite!" the thief spits, suddenly looking panicked. "He blew 'is horn, the bastard!" Twigs will sprint down the hallway, leaving you uncertain whether he means to chase the man down or cut and run. He reaches the fleeing foe and throws himself at him, swinging his gangly arm through the air and driving his elbow into the back of the man's neck with a devastating crunch.
Malum will move up and stab the dazed guard.
Dagger for
"Well there goes our hope to do this quietly."
@Gil - Problem with that is we can't 5 foot step after a movement. And Twigs isn't trusting Gil to fell him with one last shot
Wondering if the Tiefling had jumped at the guard out of bloodlust or simply to spite him in his request for a clear shot, Gil reloaded and fired again. For a brief moment he contemplated shooting the Tiefling instead, but quickly thought better of it "We will likely need him, and somehow I doubt id be able to explain it to the others in a manner that would see me a continued part of the group."
In the end his speculations had all been irrelevant as the short went wide of its mark.
The guard at the corner turns and runs trying to make his way to the south room. He makes it almost to the door. The second guard is dazed so no actions for him. Make up your own fluff. ;)
Guard 1 has 5 hp left
Guard 2 is dazed and has 4 hp left
Still reeling with the momentum of his last attack, Twigs' knuckley slug connects with the back of the guard's head, sending him spinning around to face him. Twigs grabs the man by the gorget and delivers a nose-breaking headbutt, leaving guard #2 down for the count.
Felrin sees the skittish human drop the guard in style, and turns back to take care of the one he's already clubbed once. Overcoming his reluctance to move back toward the cell, he hurries down the hall in time to deliver a stunning blow to the back of the guard's head. The guard crumples jelly-boned to the floor, and Felrin steps a few paces away from his cell to investigate the source of the snoring he heard earlier.
"I heard something down this way a bit ago. We should check out who's in these other cells, see if they'll be of any use to us."
Malum twists his tail around the dazed guard's leg and heaves trying to toss him to the ground.
Holstering his crossbow, Gil moved to the newly downed guard, hoisting him up by his armpits and starting to drag him towards their old cell.
"I will shackle this one up with his friends and relieve him of his equipment. Someone bring the other one."
"Forget shackles, chief!" he says, gripping the half-elf by the shoulders. "Cut their bleedin' throats and be done with it. We're dead men either way, right?"
Quelling a frown, Gil let go of his burden, the guardsman dropping heavily to the floor. Tearing his shoulder from Twigs' grip with just enough force to make it clear he didnt like people touching him, he stepped to the side of the unconcious man at their feet.
"I dont do executions." he said with a flat expression "Even if im curious to try again, it will not be like this." Bending down to grab the guards dagger, he handed the weapon to Twigs with a raised brow and an inkling of a smirk on his lips. "Luckily, thats where keeping company with people like you comes in handy." His statement was equal amounts insult and complement. He very much doubted Twigs would pick up on the former though.
"Lazy git..." he grumbles, kneeling beside the nearest guard. He pulls the helmet from his head, spinning it in his fingers as if appraising its value. Shrugging, he tosses it aside, pulls the guards head back by the hair, and without hesitation slits his throat from ear to ear. "Now if we're done wastin' time, I suggest we 'ave it away on our 'eels before 'is chums get 'ere. Eh? No time to question 'em anymore."
"You call it lazy, I call it standards." he replied matter of factly, content to not argue the point further. "He can keep his view of it for all I care. What matters is that "I" know my own reasons."
Walking over to Numair he asked the mage with cold practicality. "Before our friend here gets too far with his endeavor, do you think it would be prudent to keep one alive long enough to attempt your charm spell? Having one of them on our side will surely prove useful for our further escape, and I doubt we will get a better chance for it to be effective. A one on one conversation between you and him once the charm takes hold should leave him quite enamored to our cause dont you think?"
Turning back to Twigs and the mess he had made he added: "Well since you couldnt wait, I suppose you can have that ones armor Twigs." He waved his hand at the now rather bloodstained guardsmans armor.
"Let's not give them a chance to barricade us in." Izabelle says. "With the signal blown, time's against us."
"Still, more warm bodies never hurt." She holds her hand out. "Keys."
Numair grabs a single dagger, surprised a bit at the viciousness that the skinny Twigs has shown. His lip sneers a bit as he watches him and responds to Gil. "While I do believe that talking to one would be prudent to get to know the layout, I suspect Sabel is correct that we do not have much time before any others are upon us. As much as a waste as I believe it is, our lanky friend may be correct. We ay wish to ... eliminate the other three as well. Should reinforcements come and find them and revive them, they could come back to haunt us.
"And yes, we should most definitely find out if there are others. The more the merrier, especially as more guards come."
Malum starts donning one of the sets of armor, keeping an ear out if Izabelle requires any assistance.
Felrin will don a suit of leather armor and a set of clothing from one of the downed guards, then take a closer look at the western cell, while waiting for Eezy with the keezy.
As Sabel adds her authoritative voice to his, Twigs grins his crooked grin and tugs his forelock at Mister Cold Practicality. He shamelessly tosses aside his rags, revealing the raw "F" burnt into his skin, but also a not entirely unimpressive collections of tattoos, brands and scars on his feeble frame. He quickly pries the dead man's boots off, grunting with the effort, and begins to unstrap his greaves, vambraces, and finally the leather breastplate.
He straps on the braces and greaves, hopping on one foot toward the others as he laces up his boots, nearly careening into the fierce woman. "Strap me in will yew, love?" he says, grinning, motioning to the straps on the back of the chestpiece in a fairly transparent ploy to get her arms around him.
"Watch yourself, oaf." Sabel lets out an impatient grunt as she manhandles the rogue, roughly spinning him around to face away from her. She spares no time in viciously yanking the straps tight, driving the air out of the man's lungs as it all but crushes him. As he wheezes, she gives him a final swift kick to the posterior that sends him sprawling over. "There you go, love."
She continues on her way.
Twigs picks himself up, nursing his bruised backside as he opens his mouth to say something clever and manages only a wheeze. "... I was only having a bit of a dodge, wasn't I? Nutty ol' bird..." he mutters, hobbling away to the interrogation to nurse his bruised pride. He'll search the room and poke his head around, keeping his ears peeled for the guards.
Weapons
Armor
"Very well then, Twigs, would you be inclined to take care of the other three then? Unless ofcourse someone else wants to have a go as well?"
"Yes, and we need to be quick about it! Others are surely approaching!" Numair whispers urgently. His normally calm demeanor seems a bit more nervous, with freedom in sight but not yet realized.
Izzy and Felrin note that the door and walls on the western wall are reinforced more so than your own cell. As Izabelle opens the door, she notices a rather large figure sprawled in the corner. As she crosses the threshold into the cell with Felrin following close behind, the snoring cuts off abruptly and the figure rouses itself up groggily as it realizes the cell door is open. little 'uns! it rumbles... and the druid realizes she's staring at an ogre.
Giltharon, Malum and Numair quickly scout the rest of the cells via the vision slots and clear the level. The rest of the cells appear to be empty.
Twigs, who's feeling a bit brave, decides to explore the area where he was taken for his interrogation. The room hasn't changed much - still lends to a general feeling of unease. He does however, have the chance to take a more detailed look at the room he was hustled through earlier.
The small guard room houses the landing for stairs (west side of the room) that appear to be leading down. Peering down the stairs, you can see a door at the bottom which appears to be currently closed. The room is lit by a sconce holding a torch. There are two doors – one leading the cellblock to the north of the room and the other connecting to the interrogation room on the east wall. Otherwise, this chamber is plain with little furnishings save for a small table and four chairs and the remnants of what appear to be a dice game and something vile (likely what passes for alcohol in Branderscar) in some upturned glasses.
The fireplace in the guard room on the south wall looks almost comically large and is warm and toasty but has no fire burning in it at present. Sets of keys to all the cells and all the manacles for this wing hang on a peg on near the door along with additional signal horns to be used in case of trouble.
More than a little unsettled by the rather deep voice emanating from the cell Sable had opened, Gil slithered over to the door, pressing his back against the wall, still out of sight of anyone inside. "Little 'uns...why does that sound so ominous?"
Still leaning against the wall, crossbow at the ready, he whispered into the opening. "Whos in there with you?"
Sigh ... if you want something done right ... Numair walks over to the three manacled guards and shakes his head. "What a waste. I want you all to know this is nothing personal. Well, a little personal, I suppose. Still, had your friend not blown his stupid horn to bring this place down on our heads, this wouldn't have been necessary. But we can't have you released by the others only to have to fight you again." Numair will then proceed to dispatch each of the remaining three guards with his dagger, as quickly as possible while avoiding getting any blood on himself.
As he notices Gil head out of the cell, Numair follows once his grim work is done.
perception to hear the ogre
Hearing nothing, he speaks to Gil, "Gil, what is it?"
Hearing Numairs question, Gil quickly raised a hand at the man without turning to look at him. Waving the hand slightly, he shushed and whispered "Ssssh, might be trouble." before craning his neck to listen for the sound of a reply or more trouble.
Felrin freezes for a moment when he recognizes the huge prisoner for what it is. Oh Gods, a bloody ogre! I don't want to have to fight this thing! Looking at the creature, however, and realizing it's likely been stuck in this cell for some time, waiting to be executed, Felrin lowers his club. He must want out of here as much as we do. Maybe we can use that.
"Hey, big guy. We're breaking out of this place," he says, somewhat uncertainly. "You want to help us, and we'll get you out too?"
Izabelle sizes up the figure before her. Perfect.
"Timidity won't get you anywhere." she says, pushing past Felrin. She grins, planting her feet wide without a shred of caution or fear.
"Time to rise." she says, hands placed on her hips. "We're going to make these jailers realize they locked up the wrong people. Feel like cracking some skulls?"
Felrin freezes for a moment when he recognizes the huge prisoner for what it is. Oh Gods, a bloody ogre! I don't want to have to fight this thing! Looking at the creature, however, and realizing it's likely been stuck in this cell for some time, waiting to be executed, Felrin lowers his club. He must want out of here as much as we do. Maybe we can use that.
"Hey, big guy. We're breaking out of this place," he says, somewhat uncertainly. "You want to help us, and we'll get you out too?"
As Gil and Numair both are listening intently, Malum will do the same.
Numair quiets down and listens more intently as to what is going on in that cell.
The ogre stands towering over the druid and Felrin and approaches the duo looking them over. He squints at Izzabelle trying to make sense of what she proposes. Little 'uns put 'jack here...he rumble/grumbles. stupid little 'uns not kill 'jack when had chance and keep alive. Stupid little 'uns!
He thumps back on the ground but remains in a sitting position. not feel so good. Little 'uns stupid to keep grumblejack alive but make 'jack not feel good.
Looking at him closer, the ogre doesn't seem overly friendly or too inclined to fight you at present. His eyes have a glazed over look and there appear to be several cuts over his body - an indication of a past struggle or fight perhaps?
Twigs paces about the room, a nervous twitch to his movements as he keeps his ears peeled for approaching footsteps. He pockets the dice, inspecting the table further to see if the guards left any coin about, and gives the keys a tentative jangle before lifting a set from the rack. He licks his lips and takes a nervous glance down the stairwell. "Bugger all this fer a lark...'jes cut and run now." he murmurs to himself, with a cursory glance down the stairs. "...scarper off an' hide while they make a ruckus, eh?"
He pulls a sour face, as if tasting this idea, before spitting out a mouthful of blood, dabbing at the fresh gaps in his teeth. Discarding this train of thought, he'll search the interrogation room also.
Twigs lopes back into the hallway, tossing the keys to Felrin (or whoever else snatches them out of the air), and waving his arms about and stamping his foot. "Bloody well git a move on!" he says, in a flurry of bandy limbs. "They'll be on us any minu- It's a... It's a... 's a salty croaker, it is! A great, big bloody ogre!" he says, jaw dropping. "'s an honour, mistah Grumblejack-sir." Twigs says, timidly. "Wot the..."
He hesitates. "Er... Lady means is that we're gonna scarper out of this joint, you in? Right! Sorted! Les' hurry." He dusts his hands, but makes no move to free the ogre, leaving that to his braver companions.
The table in the guard room appears to be an ordinary wooden table - heavy with quite a few scratches and dents in it from years of use. It's not the easiest thing to move but with some effort you could likely shove it around the room if you so desired.
Not hearing any approaching footsteps from the stairs, you take the opportunity to examine the table. There are a few loose copper pieces and a couple of silver pieces left over from the guards' dice game. They likely won't be needing those any more. No sign of your gold teeth or any other weapons in the room (unless you want to improvise and start smashing chairs and brandish the chair legs as clubs) save for the keys and the signal horns.
Gaining confidence when the ogre doesn't just try to kill them outright, Felrin kneels down beside the grumbling creature. "Grumblejack, is it? I'm Felrin. Maybe this will help you feel a bit better, and we can all get out of here."
Felrin extends his left hand, which now is outlined in a strange reddish-orange glow, almost as if tiny flames are licking around it. He lays his hand on the ogre's arm. The glow intensifies for a moment, then seems to pass from the tiefling's hand, as if the flames were a liquid being poured. They are absorbed into the surface of the ogres skin, their glow diminishing as they spread out.
Felrin lifts his eyes from his task, looking at the ogre for a reaction.
Gil remained where he was throughout the conversation, not wanting to enter the cell before this "Grumblejack" decided to indicate compliance or hostility. "Best let the others get killed by it first if it decides to disagree. Wouldn't want to almost escape only to get eaten on the doorstep..," He looked at the naked guard, still left on the floor where Twigs had killed him. "...Hmmm, I wonder if he is hungry."
Grumblejack! Ignore the bars - he's in a solid walled cell - no bars around.
Grumblejack's eyes go wide as the tiefling attempts to heal him. He pulls his arm back as the glow is absorbed into his skin. 'ey! Devilry and witchcraft you practice little 'un. Da bad 'uns catch 'jack with fire from nowhere; put hands on 'jack and make sick. He scoots a few feet backwards until he realizes the spell is making his cuts disappear.
Staring at the motley crew gathered in his cell, he eyes you somewhat unsure what to make of the group - until Twigs barges in flailing his arms about. What passes for a huge grin splits his face Funny little 'un! 'jack understand not what he says but he move funny - you all help 'jack escape?
"It is mutually beneficial for us to assist each other in getting out of this place. Are you in?"
If a diplomacy check is required (not sure since there have been a bunch made already).
Satisfied that the ogre wasnt emideatly hostile, Gil moved into the cell with the others, adding to Malums words.
"What he means is, you help us, we help you. Now, are you still injured Grumblejack? I possess some healing as well and would rather see it used before a fight than during."
The ogre looks a bit confused by Malum's eloquency. moo-tully bena-benny... ass-sit? He looks over at Giltharon, Malum being summarily dismissed and shakes his head dis one - pointing to Malum - make 'jack head hurt more. Da bad little 'uns make 'jack head hurt and go fuzzy. But 'jack help smash da bad 'uns! You find bad little 'uns?
Grumblejack's eyes still look a bit glazed over and he shakes his head every so often as if to clear some cobwebs out but there is no indication of him being physically hurt.