"Tonight then." She relaxed and closed her eyes to rest and save her strength. Having her arm branded only recently did not help her to relax. She tried again to remember attacking her commander. She remembers storming in to see him, angry about losing her squad due to lack of intel. Then the rest is still blank until she was being hauled away with blood on her, but not her own blood. If I get out of here there is now way I can go back to my life. An outlaw is better than dead though.
"Not tonight," comes the voice of Hel, with the faintly exasperated tone of someone showing extreme forbearance - the sort of self-restraint one shows to the mentally deficient. After all, didn't she already go through this? "I know it's late in the game, but 'we have three days' does not mean 'act immediately'. You need to cultivate patience in the face of adversity; give them enough time, and your enemies will show you the way to their destruction. We know nothing about this place, the guards, or how they work. Like I said - tonight we watch and listen. If they don't feed and water us, we go tomorrow night, before we can be weakened; if they do feed and water us, we go the next night.
"Until then, we listen, we watch, we find out all we can about how they work. We test their reactions to basic stimuli, find out what will make them come in here, so that we can make them come in here. We let them think we are tired and beaten. Then, when we have information but before we are drained, we act. Careful, quiet, swift in the onslaught when we must, catching them asleep when we can. And when we finish, the only ones we leave alive behind us are the ones we decide to leave alive."
Amalrus whispers, "While I agree moving tonight would be rash, waiting two nights would be unwise. We cannot assume we will reach that house in a single days time Hel.
We watch and listen today and tonight. Tomorrow we make our move. Perhaps the figure in the cell next to us can aid us. One more person to receive slings and literal arrows could not hurt.
A Wizard eh? I should like to see what he has locked away in that tower. If he has scrolls of translocation magic, I could certainly get us out of here with ease...
If the guards in the gatehouse are drunk that should ease our passage as well".
Throughout the day, you notice that every one to three hours, the guards do a patrol of the cell block - one stays in the doorway, holding a signal horn ready to blow at the first sign of trouble, and the other walks over to the cell, making sure you aren't being unruly. At around noon, the two guards stationed outside are replaced by another two, and then again at around 8 pm another 2 guards take position in place of those two.
Rigel gives a nod and a smile. "Our angry friend is right. Best to wait and do it once, properly. If we act just after the change of guard, it'll give us time before they're found."
She watches carefully and learns the guards's routine. "Alright, here's the plan, as I see it - feel free to chip in... OK, so I'll take the lockpicks off the patch and give them to Demlin here, who'll pick our locks. Then she opens the cell door and we give the 1 dagger to Wesh and the other to Sir Gallen here. We find out who or what is in the cell next to us, and if they want to help. We use the window to bypass the door in the stone wall and put Wesh and Gallen through it, to take down the guards. That's the part I don't like, as it's 2 on 2 and they're armoured. But if we try and open the door we lose the advantage of surprise. I have some spells that might help some."
Wesh shrugs at Rigel's remarks and says, "Seems like a decent plan. And attacking right after the guards change sounds good. We'll just have to be especially careful since the guards will be fresh and alert. Nothing a good dagger in the throat can't handle, though.
"We also need to be prepared to put down whatever's in the cell next to us, if necessary. I'm sure not every prisoner in this prison has their head on straight."
The fighter glances over at his fellow inmates. He isn't even sure all of them have their heads on straight. A problem for another time.
Gallen nods "If needed I can call on some limited resources to take out one of the guards quickly, better to use them here to swiftly take out an opponent. I am going to feel a lot better once we've acquired their gear. If we are fortunate they do not keep the horn immediately to hand. I imagine screams for help and such are well tuned out by the guard."
Demlin nods, agreeing to making a move soon after a shift change but wanting everyone to go through the window together. "If we can surprise them from behind they may not even have their weapons drawn before we are on them. Perhaps they lay the horn somewhere while they are out there. Those without weapons can try to capture the horn before they can use it. If we all focus on one guard at a time rather than split our focus I think we have good chances despite their armour and weapons."
"Perhaps our unknown cellmate should wait until we have taken care of the guards. They may cause some commotion and ruin us before we have started. It's enough that I am putting my trust in you all. But at least I can see you and we seem to be on the same page." Her wrists are causing her some discomfort and she tries to ease them by shifting a little but it does nothing to make her more comfortable. I am NOT good at waiting.
"I think we do need to do the ... interrogating ... of the isolated prisoner after we deal with the guards, but I think that dealing with them so soon after the nighttime shift-change is a bad idea. After one of the times they poke their head in, but three, four hours in - around midnight some time. That'll allow the rest of the keep to settle down as well - some people will be sleeping, others will be relaxing. The nightly poker game will be in full swing."
She looks up at the manacles binding her to the wall, not really seeing them as her mind works on the problem. "We open the window when they open the door. Bull-rush the one in the door out of the way at the same time whomever goes through the window. I don't know who'd do that; I'd suppose one of you two strongmen," she nods to Wesh beside her, and Sir Gallen further down the way, "but ... whomever can do the job. I'd suggest the two of you at and through the door, pushing the man back - or heck, pulling him through. If we're going to use the window, Rigel or Amalrus sets it up and Demlin and I go through to jump the one with the horn. I'm familiar with close-in fighting, so between us I'm sure Demlin and I will be able to get the horn away from him."
She shrugs. "After that, well - while I'm not one for wanton slaughter, I'm not adverse to it being applied when necessary."
"I can certainly set up the window for another of you to leap through.
Once we have secured the room, I can use my magic to take the guise of the slain guards and scout ahead through the complex, I'll only have a few minutes but that will at least give us a sense of the lay out without alerting anyone as to the fact that the animals are no longer locked in their cages. What fun, I am beginning to be glad I was captured".
"You would fight them when they are at their strongest? That is unwise. Catching them while they relax and are not alert is better. Once we are free we should all go through the window and burst in on them before they can draw their weapons." Demlin is definitely a proponent of using the element of surprise to its full potential and not letting them come to us prepared to deal with troublesome inmates.
Wesh does his best to address Hel is a concise fashion. "While I appreciate your confidence in my and Gallen's skill," Wesh begins, purposefully leaving out the 'Sir' part of Gallen's name, "I'm not trained in fancy combat maneuvers like that. Not yet, anyway. And I don't mean to be rude, but I doubt Gallen is either.
"I have to agree with Demlin. We're better off taking them by surprise. If we can catch them flat-footed, we'll stand a better chance. That might off-set the armor advantage they have.
"The end result will still be wanton slaughter, of course, but I think Demlin's plan is more likely to achieve that result. I would suggest that as many of us as possible focus on the guard carrying the horn so we can bring him down before he has a chance to blow it. With any luck, he might not even have it in hand if we take them by surprise."
Hel would shrug, if she could. "Unless I am looking at incontrovertable proof that he isn't, I always assume my opponent is at his strongest - yes, and expecting me. But I would rather have two ways to get at him rather than one, and if opening up the second way requires me to entice him into doing so - and picking up a truncheon on the way - then so be it. Now hush up, let me try something."
For a moment she sits there, thinking, then looks at Wesh beside her. "My apologies for this. STOP THAT AT ONCE!!" she bellows. "KEEP YOUR FILTHY FEET AWAY FROM ME!! DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!? I AM THE BARONESS JANELYN!! BY ALL THE GODS I WILL SEE YOU LASHED FOR TOUCHING ME!!" She'll go on in this vein, short bursts of shouting with short pauses as if Wesh were responding, all the while watching and listening for indications that the door is about to be opened. When it is, she notes their stances - presumably the same as those when they come in to inspect - but then shouts, "GUARDS!! GUARDS, I DEMAND YOU LASH THIS MAN FOR TOUCHING ME WITH HIS FILTHY FEET!!" Of course, she is the one with a bar clamped between her ankles ...
Gallen looks like he is about to chime in with something when Hel tries her plot. He has to take a moment to keep his straight face and grim. They'd hopefully have plenty of time to talk. So for now he prepared to watch what would happen yet and take note of the guard's reactions and timing.
At the sound of Hel's outburst, the cell block door opens, and one of the guards comes in. The other stands in the doorway holding the signal horn. The guard walks into the cell, looks at Hel and then shouts at her, "Quiet, scum! No one cares who you are, you're nothing but one of the Forsaken - and you'll be dead soon to boot. I have to come in here again, you'll get more than the rough side of my tongue, filth."
The guard then turns on his heel and exits the cell block, along with the other, and they lock the door behind them.
The black-handed woman watches the guard enter with a cold eye and sudden silence, unable to keep up the masquerade - though it wasn't much of a masquerade anyhow. Meeting the guard's gaze as he enters, she is slightly surprised at the ... volume of his response. "Yessir," she responds, though her brain is working on trying to figure out exactly what he's yelling so hard about.
Wesh remains as motionless as possible during the exchange. Regardless of whatever Hel is trying to do, he doesn't want to be a part of it. His crime and his passion is violence. Not... whatever it is Hel is trying to act like he's done to her.
Once the guard is gone and the door is shut, Wesh chuckles and says, "Guess the Baroness title doesn't carry as much weight as it used to, eh? I'm certainly not feeling the sting of any lashings. You should be grateful for that. The last thing we need is to be injured before we've even started our escape attempt.
"I hope your experiment is enough proof that we should try to take them by surprise. They seem to be quite disciplined when it comes to having their signal horn ready to use when they open that door. We might as well kill ourselves if they manage to blow that thing."
"I didn't think they would," says Hel in her normal quiet voice, "but it is of note that their attention can be drawn. Consider the benefits of having their focus here - towards this door - while they get hit from behind."
Once the guards had left Demlin smirks. Had they not been keeping their noise down the entire time to avoid the guards attention? "And one plus one equals two."
-----
The next 'day' when the 8pm shift replaces the previous, Demlin sits up straight again. "Finally." She actually has a little smile on her face. She turns to her left and Rigel. "Toss me the veil. It'll be much quieter than the chance of us dropping the tools."
The next day passes the same as the previous - the guards come through and patrol the cell block every 1 to 3 hours, with the shift changes regularly occurring. It's quite boring being chained up in a cell for hours on end with nothing to do. Nightfall can't come soon enough.
You are one of the Forsaken - a horrible criminal who dared to try and murder a member of the Mitran Inquisition. Is it any wonder that good, devout Mitran worshippers would hate one such as you?
Of course, you also notice, underneath that blazing hatred, just the smallest bit of fear - fear of you, and the others chained in the cell with you.
Rigel flashes a smile at Demlin. "You got it, honey." She passes over the veil, but not before first peeling off the Asmodean symbol. You don't let go of power when it comes your way, after all.
She notices Rigel take the unholy symbol. Am I really helping a devil worshiper to escape?
She has the veil now and carefully takes the patch of tools out of the veil and it transforms in front of her eyes. It is a little awkward but the locks are simple and her skills don't let her down. Once she is free and the leg chain undone she starts with Rigel and works her way down the cell.
Demlin quickly has everyone out of their shackles, and it takes her just as little time to unlock the cell you are in (taking 10 gives a total of 20). You now have free rein of the cell block, with the guards likely thinking that you're still chained up in your cell.
Once she has everyone free she gives the daggers to Wesh and Gallen. "As planned."
"Well, let's see now... several cloth patches - a couple daggers, a vial, a coiled rope, a sack, a pile of coins, a lantern, a window, and, perhaps most mportantly, a couple patches that look like lockpicks and a holy symbol of the First."
"Strange that your friend placed coins in this veil. Bribery doesn't seem a viable use." She says to Rigel. She proceeds to remove all the patches from the veil except the window and the coins. "A lantern may be useful later. Rope has many uses. The contents of this vial may be helpful or harmful. Would anyone know how to determine which it is?" The lantern she places on the floor as well as the rope. The vial she hands to whoever reaches to inspect it. The sack she inspects and looks inside herself.
Within the sack, Demlin finds a set of ordinary clothes - apparently one for each of them - as well as pouches containing a strange assortment of components.
Wesh nods gratefully after Demlin releases him from his bonds and smiles widely when she hands him one of the daggers.
"I'm ready to get this escape started when the rest of you are. Were we still going to use that window? I would much prefer to have the element of surprise for this particular fight. We'll have our work cut out for us as it is."
"To be clear if someone falls unconscious I wont abandon them at the drop of a hat. I'll try to carry them along as long as it doesn't jeopardise the group and my owns chances."
"Yes." Demlin says to Wesh and holds up the veil. "I have the window right here."
"There are 6 sets of clothes in here. Nothing fancy but nicer than these rags they forced on us. I will change when we are slightly more secure, but if anyone is desperate we have some time."
While everyone is stretching out cramps or getting changed Demlin will move over to the cell on its own to the left of the guard's door and carefully open the cell. She will carefully push the veil against the wall and peel it off, keeping the window patch in place against the wall.
"Thank you," Hel says to Demlin as the latter clicks her wrists free; carefully rubbing the sores left by the last couple of weeks in chains, she watches the ex-soldier perform her delicate mechanical surgery on the lock imprisoning her ankles. "An interesting skill for a soldier to have acquired," she murmurs. "Perhaps you'll teach me some of it. Ah, thank you again," she adds when the lock on the leg irons click open. Drawing her legs up practically under her half-tattered gown, feet together, then stretching them out again, she smiles, and flexes her toes.
Sitting cross-legged until the door has been opened and the others have sorted themselves out, Hel rises with a certain grace. After padding out into the lane between the cells' iron bars, she seems to dance as she goes half a dozen yards away from the solid door to the 'secure' cell, her arms and legs flex and swing in wide, elegant, slow movements. Her bare feet make hardly a sound as she pauses and returns, only to muse, "Odd, how simple movement can feel so good after it's been forbidden."
At the discovery of clean clothing, she takes 'hers' immediately - including a skirt, if there is one - then pauses, considering the state of tidiness of both herself and her clothing. With clear reluctance, she hands the common clothing back to Demlin and murmurs, "I need a bath first, or at least a basin - cleaning up of some sort. Getting into clean clothes when you're still grimy is somehow worse than putting grimy clothes back on after you've gotten clean. Besides," she adds, glancing towards the guardroom door before Demlin goes to open up the cell door nearest to it, "there may be reason to not wash up first."
Take 10 for Stealth, for a 16 plus anything for not having footwear. If a roll is needed ...
Demlin places the window against the wall and peels it off, with the patch quickly sizing itself into an actual window that looks through the wall into the now-darkened interview room. A faint outline of the door is visible from the torch light outside of it, and a bit of light spills in from the torches in the cell block, but otherwise the room is dark. No one expects you to come at them from this way.
Nope
Nope
Rigel treats Demlin to a dazzling smile as her lock pings open. "Why thank you, honey!" She stretches languorously, before lifting up the Asmodean symbol that hangs around her neck and pressing it to her lips - it's uncharacteristic of her to be so demonstrative, but the situation demands it. Only a day ago she was headed for the stake, and now she's headed... somewhere else. She's not sure where, but it doesn't really matter.
Occasionally, the 'from' is more important than the 'to.'
As Demlin fiddles with applying the window to the interview room, Rigel archly quirks an eyebrow at the cell in the other direction. "Do we want to find out who we're sharing a prison with?"
It wasn't really the fault of the guards, the men he was about to kill. They had been tricked by their leaders those they should be able to trust and respect but the rot had set in long ago. He'd rather pull the whole thing down than stand idly by. Perhaps they would make it, perhaps not but at least he would die fighting for what was right.
"I am indifferent largely... but I admit a little curious.
"Not yet," counsels Hel absently as she watches Demlin work. "If they're amenable to being an ally, then we can talk that over once the guards are down; if they aren't, then taking a look now might cause them to make a racket, drawing the guard's attention - and you folk have decided that's something not to be done. Gentlemen??"
The baroness nods towards the newly-created window, and when they move she follows the two warriors carefully over the stone windowsill into the other room, her toes curling against the floor and her nose flaring as she tries to take in as much of her surroundings as possible - but the lack of light is definitely not helping.
Demlin coils up the rope and loops it onto her shoulder before going through the window. She nods at Hel's suggestion of waiting until the guards are subdued or killed but says nothing. She sneaks forward to test the door leading to the guards as quietly as possible.
If it's unlocked or when she unlocks it she nods to Gallen and Wesh to charge in when ready. She points to herself and makes a door opening motion letting them know she will throw the door open for them when they are ready.
Wesh is finally starting to be impressed with some of his fellow prisoners. At Rigel in particular, the fighter smiles and nods when he sees her Asmodean symbol.
A bona fide Asmodean priest. I never thought I would actually see one in person.
Wesh can't help but whisper over to her, "You, my dear, possess the honor of being the first priest that I've met that I don't want to kill. Hail Asmodeus."
The fighter nods in agreement with Hel and Demlin about waiting to find out who their neighbor or neighbors are.
He accompanies the others into the interview room, grasping his dagger in both hands. It's a far cry from the great sword he would much prefer to be wielding, but it will have to do for now.
Wesh moves next to the door after Demlin finishes her handiwork. He looks over at the others in their group to judge their readiness. If this has the smallest chance of working, they need to be on the same page with this assault.
Delays to Demlin
Delays to Demlin
As soon as everyone signals they are ready, Demlin nods in acknowledgement and yanks the door open. There's nothing to say. Everyone knows what needs to be done.
Gallen channels his energy to strike down the guard swiftly, he didn't hate the man but he was an obstacle to be overcome. He barrels towards the guard with or nearest the horn.
'Baroness Janelyn' is entirely primed and ready for this; when the door opens, she slips past Sir Gallen like a wraith and is hot on Wesh's heels. She has, in fact, eyes only for the horn, making a slight slip sideways to look past the 'church redecorator' to spot the thing. Swift steps take her to that guard's right, Hel going all the way to the wall (or possibly the door) before giving the guard what her mother called a 'distracting strike', a light jab to drag his attention to her left elbow while her right hand does the job of relieving him of the thing that could really cause them trouble ...
Not sure which one has the horn, but with a Move of 40', I should be good. Having thought about it, I'll get to the left of whichever guard has the horn at the moment.
The 'distracting strike' (I took it from the 'atemi strike' from Aikido) is purely fluff.
Spending my Villian Point to get an extra action, to acquire the horn from the guy. If a Steal or Disarm roll is necessary:
Wesh smiles as their attack commences. He relishes the chance to mete out Asmodean justice once more. Blood will flow and in the end, Asmodeus will reign.
If the fighter was in the position to do so, he would much prefer to take his time killing the guards for all the torment they've put the group through. That doesn't seem to be an option at the moment, unfortunately.
Once Demlin opens the door, Wesh charges through, stabbing his dagger at one of the guards, hoping to fell the man before he even has a chance to react.
Wesh is finally starting to be impressed with some of his fellow prisoners. At Rigel in particular, the fighter smiles and nods when he sees her Asmodean symbol.
A bona fide Asmodean priest. I never thought I would actually see one in person.
Wesh can't help but whisper over to her, "You, my dear, possess the honor of being the first priest that I've met that I don't want to kill. Hail Asmodeus."
Rigel flashes the man a smile, and maybe a bit else besides: "Aw honey, you say the sweetest things..."
As the action starts, she keeps a prudent distance behind the fighters, ready to step in and provide healing as required.
As soon as everyone signals they are ready, Demlin nods in acknowledgement and yanks the door open. There's nothing to say. Everyone knows what needs to be done.
Wesh smiles as their attack commences. He relishes the chance to mete out Asmodean justice once more. Blood will flow and in the end, Asmodeus will reign.
If the fighter was in the position to do so, he would much prefer to take his time killing the guards for all the torment they've put the group through. That doesn't seem to be an option at the moment, unfortunately.
Once Demlin opens the door, Wesh charges through, stabbing his dagger at one of the guards, hoping to fell the man before he even has a chance to react. His dagger easily finds a gap in the man's armor, driving deep into his side before he pulls it out again. The man staggers slightly from the blow, but does not yet fall - these guards do work for the mightiest prison in Talingarde, after all.
'Baroness Janelyn' is entirely primed and ready for this; when the door opens, she slips past Sir Gallen like a wraith and is hot on Wesh's heels. She has, in fact, eyes only for the horn, making a slight slip sideways to look past the 'church redecorator' to spot the thing. Swift steps take her to that guard's right, Hel going all the way to the wall (or possibly the door) before giving the guard what her mother called a 'distracting strike', a light jab to drag his attention to her left elbow while her right hand does the job of relieving him of the thing that could really cause them trouble. She is easily able to relieve him of the horn, as he is caught completely off-guard.
Amalrus bides his time, waiting to see what is needed of him.
Gallen channels his energy to strike down the guard swiftly, he didn't hate the man but he was an obstacle to be overcome. He barrels towards the guard nearest the horn.
As the action starts, Rigel keeps a prudent distance behind the fighters, ready to step in and provide healing as required.
The guard Wesh stabbed tightens his grip on his club and shouts, "Forsaken scum! Your punishment shall be all the worse!" He then swings the leather-wrapped club at the fighter, hoping to fell him.
The guard's club solidly impacts the fighter's midsection, knocking the wind from his lungs and causing his ribs to ache.
Guard 1 - 8/22
Wesh - 11/15, 4 nonlethal
Wesh spits out a bit of blood from the blow, but continues to smile at the man.
"Is that really the best you can do? They aren't paying you enough, I can assure you of that."
The fighter lunges at the man again, hoping to finish him off.
Demlin runs into the room next to Gallen and Hel and harries the guards legs, threatening to knock them out from underneath him.
Hel tosses the horn with a skittering bounce towards the far corner of the guardroom, then keeps on with the smacking and the stripping - an open-palmed smack against his arm as she reaches to strip away his at-hand weapon, presumably the same sort of club the other gaoler is using to beat at Wesh with.