Barnabas takes in the conversation and advice coming from the other.
"So you think that the patches just pull off eh? Well I don't see it myself, but really at this point what do we have to lose."
Looking over the items depicted on the veil, Barnabas shrugs and being a practical man, tries to remove the patch representing thieves tools.
When pulled free, the delicate patch transforms into an actual set of thieves tools. Shocked, Barnabas nearly drops them, but he catches himself in time. A broad grin slowly replaces his look of amazement.
"Well would you look at that. I think we're in business folks. If it's all the same to you Mikhail, I think I'll just use these tools to go about seeing us free. That is unless you had something else in mind. Here's why don't one of you see about pulling off some more of these patches so we can take a look at what we've got here."
He passes the veil off to the first person who reaches for it and he starts working on opening his manacles,
Kherg snatches the hankerchief and star then passes it back. The patch turns into a twisted and thorny vined star before he can cup the symbol away from view.
The dwarf grins with a full smile from ear to ear. That is the high one to the low one. His eyes grow wide and watery as he feels more at home. "I not in business, I in Hell, haw haw haw! May I give thanks for the Prince's help in freeing us." jokes Kherg with Barnabas all warm and chummy, forgetting for a moment his honesty. Sometimes the lies become too thick and the truth just slips out.
He touches the rogue briefly in thanks, the touch tingles with faint lines of heat and pain, intermingled to give the slight jolt of a dark faith,
As you careful tear away the patch from the veil, to your astonishment a set of masterwork thieves tools coalesce in the place where the patch once was. After freeing your hands you examine the remaining sets of manacles and fetters that bind the rest of your cellmates. Your able to determine that due to the similarities between each of the locks, you should have a slightly easier time picking them.
Perhaps its the constant voices in your head, but you don't notice the buzzing in your skull and tingeing in your skin until you have completed your spell. After calling upon your patron and coalescing your power into the form of a Detect Magic you feel yourself start to become nauseous, but your able to fight through the sickness long enough to determine there is some sort of powerful anti-magic ward that is encompassing the prison bunker.
As you watch your new cellmates start to plan their escape, a thought whispers its way up through the cracks from your cunning wisdom. Like a voice from the darkness it whispers to you that you will only have one opportunity to escape. If your caught prematurely you will likely be separated into other cells and then gagged. The guards will double the watch and you will never have another moment of privacy.
Shaking your head in the realization, you none the less feel a surge of confidence as you as you grip the thorn wrapped silver pentagram. Holding it tightly you feel the sharp edges of the holy symbol dig into your massive hands. Somewhere inside of yourself you have always known that the Dark Prince has watched over you. Even in your worst times in the Vale you knew he was by your side. And so this is but one more trial in showing your dedication to the Horned Lord. Gathering your faith and convictions in the dark prince you feel something blocking you. Shaking your head in the knowledge that nothing could be stronger then the power of your Lord you redouble your prayers, and as you do so you feel the dark blessing of your prince flow from you.
His hands free, Barnabas quickly unlocks the the chain binding everyones feet together. Now completely free, he goes about the room releasing the other prisoners from their shackles. All the while keeping an ear out for any sound of the guards.
"Someone see if there are any weapons on the veil, I seem to recall there being some knives. There's no way out other than through that guard room and we won't be doing that without a fight."
Arianna was in total disbelief at the sudden reversal of fortunes. She spent the entire time silent and dumbfounded by it all, so much so that it took her a few seconds to even register the freedom of her hands. A single, stammered, "Thanks," was the first thing she said for quite some time.
Hunger and despair had sloweed her reactions, but a surge of emotion and joy ran through her as she started to wiggle her fingers. The motion went from there into her wrists, where they rolled slowly, then to her elbows, until finally she was exercising every joint in her body. Relief came, but it didn't last long as she began to mutter under her breath, drawing magical energy for the first time in far too long. Cathartically, she invoked her dancing lights, letting the ghostly orbs spiral around her in dizzying, revitalizing circles before dismissing them and returning begrudgingly to the matter at hand.
"I have my claws and spells; someone else can use the knives." Her voice was kept hushed in awareness of their situation, but still edged with excitement and confidence. Adrenaline and shock had given her hope, and for the moment she would be free of pessimism.
Free from his bonds, Kaynen absentmindedly rubs his wrists and he sizes up the small cell. He quickly tears off a few patches from his prison garments while considering their situation.
"We will need to act quickly, it's just a matter of time before the guards notice what is transpiring here."
As Barnabas continues to work the other's manacles, Kaynen works the veil, pulling off the knives and passing them to willing recipients
Stepping to the cell's walls, he begins knocking on the stone, feeling their temperature and pressing his ear to get a sense if any are exterior-facing.
Let's hope that window patch does what I think it does...
"Hmm," Ethaniel mutters to himself once he finds himself free of his bonds. He takes a moment to stretch his muscles, enjoying the freedom of movement that is his once more and stealing glances at the others as he does so, curious to see how each of them reacts to their sudden change of luck. At the same time, he takes note of their words, the woman's especially. 'Spells and... claws,' his thoughts accompanied by a brief quizzical look.
"This should do," he remarks as he accepts the knife offered to him, "at least until I can find a proper blade. Preferably my blade..." Without offering any more details, Ethaniel tries to get a better look of the silken veil.
"We should not take too long doing this. Pull the patch that looks like a sack off next. With a little luck, it is not just an empty sack that it turns into."
She cackles to herself beneath her breath, beginning to make quick motions with her arms in such way that, were her claws drawn, she would appear menacing. "I'll finally get to use them in real combat," she added a little louder, enough that she could be heard, even if she didn't realize. She'd never properly used them outside of practice before, and she was eager to try them out.
As Barnabas slowly sets to work undoing each of your shackles, each of you breathes a short sigh of relief. A hour ago your fate was assured, be it a headsman's axe, burned at the stake or some other grim ending. Now however there is a faint glimmer of freedom. Many questions race through your minds. Who was blond haired woman and what hidden agenda lies waiting for you upon your escape? Why are you being aided and who is pulling the strings? Each of you has questions, but all of that is secondary to one fact. If you do not escape, you will die.
As the prisoners begin to tear away the patches revealing the hidden implements of their escape Kaynen moves to the stone walls of the prison and begins to knock quietly on the stone.
Easing his way along first the western wall and then towards the northern one, he quietly taps and knocks at the stones, listening for sound of wind on the other side or feeling the rush of air through the cracks. Just as the half-elf finishes examining the western wall, a voice quietly whispers from the other side of the stone reinforced cell. Joo luttle un's be quiets. the deep voice rumbles Da gurd mught hur ut.
As you flex your claws, enjoying the freedom of movement after days of being shackled, you revel in the ability to finally call on your magical heritage. Raising a hands in a complex arcane gesture you summon into being a flicking haze of lights. As the color swirls around you, dispelling the gloom, you feel a sudden dizziness like the feel of vertigo overtake you, moments before you release your spell.
Kherg looks around the cell and outside. He picks up a set of manacles and swings them around. He wants to feel some weight and power behind the metal chains or links.
He walks out slowly and low to see if he can find any more gifts from his Prince. The dwarf is hunched over and powerful although he doesn't move with particular grace. More like a bear with a sore foot.
Ah, the sound of the whispering wind, another conspirator in our daring escape!
The half-elf whispers to his freed compatriots as he picks up the hints of winds beyond the wall. Despite hearing the voice of another prisoner, Kaynen leaves the socialization with a possible fellow inmate to one of the six others.
"I can just make out the wind, let me see that veil and let's see if this window patch will do what I think it might."
Ariana hisses a little at the feeling of dizziness, and her joyish and foolish posturing ends as she leans against the wall, cursing under her breath. "I believe there may be some manner of ward over this place," she shares with the group, taking long, deep breaths to try and abate the spinning of her head. "In retrospect, if there is an extra dagger I would gladly take it. My plan to simply bombard any attackers with acid is now a little more difficult. My claws cannot be used for too long each day." Her joy began to diminish quickly then, as the prison still imposed on her spellcasting, and only when she met their still-unassured freedom could she be free to cast her magic again.
As he is reminded of the time of day, Kaynen hesitates in the removal of the "window patch" from the veil.
"Ah yes, our benefactor suggested two hours until dusk from your meeting? Perhaps we have become overzealous in our escape, and should steel ourselves for some time, planning for our departure for the middle of the night? "
The half-elf frowns at the empty manacles, wondering if continuing the prisoner ruse is worth the effort.
Surely they will feed us within the next hour two...
Oswald clutches his eyes in pain as he spits on the cell floor as he hisses through clenched teeth, "Oh, the pain. The spirits are weak in this place. They rip and tear as if flowing through the jagged teeth of a shark. Those cursed fools make it harder for us to have freedom of any sort. My poor loves, I shall find a way to come to you! Then we shall be free!"
As Barnabas frees his own shackles this starts to make his way down the line, Oswald perks up and holds his own bonds forward for their own inspection. When the heavy shackles pop off his wrists and ankles, Oswald clutches Barnabas and spins the man in a celebratory dance. The madman rubs the blood-crusted sores upon his wrists, self-inflicted from his bouts of struggle while chained, and glances around wildly though with enough presence of mind to keep his voice down, "Yet still the bars and guards keep us pinned. What can be done about them? I must find my poor, dear Rosaline. They stole her from me and I dread to imagine what foul perversions they are performing upon my sweet, innocent child!"
Well now, it sounds like we have a neighbour.
Barnabas whispers back to the voice from the other room:
Well hello friend. My fellow cellmates and I were just making arrangements to go get some fresh air. Would that be something you might be interested in? I have a feeling the guards wont be too pleased with our decision and we could use an extra pair of hands in encouraging them to let us go about our business.
Mikhail takes the offered knife from Kaynen and considers it for a moment. As the dwarf seems to want to use the chains as a weapon and the quiet bladesman already has a dagger, Mikhail offers the blade to the one who appears the best combination of dangerous and sane. He holds it out hilt-first to Barnabas. "Perhaps you'll be best-equipped to use this. I have other talents that will serve me well here."
With both Ethaniel and Oswald mentioning that they need to retrieve something in the prison, Mikhail supports them in an attempt to gain their favor. Those who you help tend to follow you in return. "Ethaniel, your blade - was that the thing that you took from the grave, the item that belongs to you? If so, I imagine that it will still be in the building. Doctor Turrill, do you believe your daughter to be here as well? I imagine that the Sergeant holds both, along with any information we might need. Do any of you have the magical means to addle his mind? Barnabas, was it?" Mikhail uses the name Kaynen used for the thief. "How many guards did you see, and what is beyond that door?"
Kaynen turns his attention from the cold stone wall and the veil, his head turned slightly to make out the details of the conversation between the two cells.
"If he wishes to put his lot in with ours, we should quickly unlock the outer door to our cell and his. If we wait until the guards find us prattling about, we will lack whatever additional aid he could provide..."
Mikhail gestures to Kaynen. "Let us find the best spot for that window rather than hastily selecting the most convenient spot at this very moment. And your idea is excellent. We should find as many like-minded associates as possible to assist us."
Arianna's eyes scan the rest of the prisoners, hoping to find someone with magical talent among their numbers. Finding little in the way of promise, she sighs and starts pacing around, waiting for something to happen or a task to be given. Rubbing her hands together, she starts to work the knuckles, cracking them. The sounds and motions soothe her, letting her get used to having freedom of her hands again, something she had always taken for granted before her capture.
"Be careful. Some of these men are not eager to join any causes, and would kill us the moment we've escaped. Let's not waste too much time on freeing all of Branderscar and losing our own chance at freedom because of it."
Nodding to Mikhail and sensing the growing impatience within Ariana, Kaynen moves towards the cell's interior door and gives both directions a good long look.
Oswald turns to Mikhail and nods vigorously at the man's plan, "Yes, yes! They stole my precious Rosaline on the way to this dreadful tomb. She is but a small girl of pale complexion and dark hair. A sweet child that I fear they have defiled by now. Let us reap vengance upon them and reclaim what the knaves have stolen from us! If I can summon forth adequate strength, I might be able to confound a guard's senses for a few seconds at a time but this place is poison to those powers otherworldly."
"Well there were the six that came to get me plus the sergeant, but I can't imagine that they all stay in that little guard room. Speaking of which, the room only has one way out, a staircase down. There's also a huge fireplace in there, someone might be able to get to the roof through it, if they were so inclined. They keep the keys in there as well.
He takes the offered blade with a hint of distaste. Knives are so messy. Why can't people just have the common curtesy to die with all their fluids on the inside?
"You know, freeing all of Braderscar isn't a half bad idea. Even if we escape in the night, we'll have at best a couple of hour head start before they have the dogs after us. I like our odds better if there are a couple dozen escapees out there to distract them. It'll be an even better distraction if they take a few guards hostage and hole up in here"
"And frankly my dear, I'm tired, I'm dirty, and I've had enough of the good King's hospitality. I think it's time to go.
Barnabas goes over to the cell door and unlocks it:
Kherg does not join in the discussions. These are important people and he heard someone talk of a prisoner. The dwarf sidles around the cells until he locates anyone.
"Hullo, who you? I Kherg and these criminals are going to kill guards, I think. You can too?" and the warrior priest waits for a suitable answer. He tries to see inside the cell but maybe the barred window is too high.
After an hour or so of whispered planing, Barnabas quietly eases his way towards the cell door. Snorting in disgust at the poor workmanship the slaver arrogantly picks the tumblers with a muted snick.. As the door swings open, Kergh hoists the fifteen foot length of chain, rapping it around his immense and disfigured fists. Pushing his way past the small inconspicuous man Kergh moves towards the stone reinforced cell at the western end of the prison bunker.
As the misshapen man reaches the cell he can see that behind the stone reinforced bars there is a huge beast of a creature, sitting on his haunches, who is encrusted in dirt and half healed wounds. Rising up on his immense frame the creature is intimidating even in his wounded and half starved state.
There are very few ogres still alive on the Isle of Talingarde today, and most life north of the Borderlands.
The creature exhibits a slight palsy that is consistent with Belladonna poisoning. It has likely sapped him of some of his strength
Through the mop of unruly black hair, you can see a pair of tiny horns, just peaking out from his forehead.
Padding up to the three inch thick iron bars the creature grips them in his gigantic fists. As he does so, you can see that he also bears the branded on his forearm, though it seems to have been inflicted far less recently. Uhm Grumblejack little ’un. Gut meh utta hur, un i'll smash dem'.
Let me know if this is presumptuous, but by the picture Grumblejack appears to be an ogre.
As an ogre is a humanoid, it should be a Knowledge (local) check to identify him, instead of a Knowledge (nature) check, which would work for a harpy, hag, doppelganger, gargoyle, etc.
As the former prisoners begin to tiptoe out from their cell, Kaynen clasps his hands together as if he had just received a nameday present.
"Oh my! What an unexpected surprise. Gentlemen, we've found ourselves a living, breathing ogre to aid in our little escape..."
Kaynen gives Barnabas a nod, as if to dispel any hesitation that the businessman-with-rogue-talents may be having. Kaynen is unable to hide his mirth at the possibility for destruction upon the release of "Grumblejack".
The half-elf continues to fidget anxiously with several torn scraps of his woolen garments pinched between his fingers.
"It sounds good, so I ask man for you." Kherg slopes back to stare at Barnabas. "You get him out? He kills guards."
The chain is a fitting weapon, and wrapping it tightly round his body makes the priest feel closer to his Dark and Horned Lord. Never has anything felt so right. Until now the dwarf had helped burn the odd animal and bullied a few cowards. This chain makes things different, it makes him want to hit out at his enemies.
"Yes, a sword," Ethaniel answers Mikhail's question, as his eyes turn briefly to the knife in his hands. Although he has never been in a real fight before and there is a certain amount of trepidation concerning the prospect of one, it is, however, easily dwarfed by a sense of anticipation at the chance to actually put his training into practice. Even if he does so while wielding a simple dagger. "I could be of better use with it in my hands instead of this. But still, as I said, it will do for now."
As he too steps out of his cell, hands and feet free of shackles, he smiles to himself. A small amount of freedom is better than none at all. His smile fades, though, when he notices the one called Kergh talking to another prisoner, an ogre from the looks of it. His hand involuntarily tightens around the dagger's hilt as he almost takes a step back. Checking his emotions, he manages to remain in place and instead turns his attention to Kaynen.
"What are you doing?" The question is aimed at the half-elf as Ethaniel notices the man tearing off little pieces from his prisoner's uniform.
An ogre? I bet it's in here for eating babies..
"Ok Grumblejack, I'm going to let you out and you will get your chance to smash them. They don't know we're out yet and we want to smash them by surprise, so no yelling when I open the door. The quieter we are, the more you will get to smash."
Mikhail smiles, barely concealing his fangs. 'An ogre will be perfect. A brutish lot. What guards wouldn't focus on him first before us?' He gathers his voice into a whisper to the ogre. He tries his best to be comforting and to aid Barnabas's already-strong claim to its loyalty from freeing it. "Are there other prisoners here, or is it just you and us? Why have they not executed you yet?"
Kaynen sniffs the air, whether providing commentary on the ogre's hygiene, or attempting to detect danger being unclear.
Opening his palm, he reveals over a half-dozen shards of his wool to Ethaniel.
"Oh, I learned a few cantrips in my time - and fortuitous for us the only material they require in their casting is a small scrap of wool."
Kaynen collapses his hand, like a beggar jealously guarding his sole worldly possession.
While Barnabas works the ogre's lock, he gives a quick scan of the hall and the other cells.
A smile breaks across her face as she watches Barnabas interact with the ogre. With each passing moment, freedom became more and more apparent, and she couldn't wait until she reached some location where she didn't have to stifle herself, where she could celebrate with all the noise and magic she desired.
Instead, she moved silently over to Kaynen and helped him keep a watchful eye.
Kherg listens to the interplay between Barnabas, Mikhail and Grumblejack. He nods at each good point and eventually smiles at the beast. But his eyes are watching carefully just in case the ogre needs a bit of more direct argument. Sometimes he can scare people and maybe that creature will need it too.
Grumblejack, you better be with us or I will flay you. That sound good. Nana use that now I do too. She call it her Hellwords.
Oswald shies back from the ogre's cell, not all together sure what to make of the big beast. His long, dirty nails scratch at an itch in his scalp, releasing a flurry of dust, dirt, and probably vermin. The former doctor's eyes slide back over to the hall and door leading to the guard room while his fingers curl into fists, "Quick, release the brute. Let us be about our vengeance and reunions. These bastards have drawn breath for long enough."
Listening quietly Grumblejack shrugs his meaty shoulders. Looking at Mikhail with gleam of feral intelligence at odds with his bestial form, the Orge scratches at his chin with one dirt encrusted nail. Um not shur. The deep voice quietly rumbles. Ah figured dey wuld ah kulled me rought quick. His huge barrel of a chest swelling in pride Grumblejack gives a fierce grin. Ah killed two uh da little ‘uns and I woulda killed more of dem if there weren’t so many. Instead dey gave me da mark and left me here. Dere was more prisoners here, but dey got sent to da salt mines ur got da axe. Not sure how long. It’s hard da keep truk of da days hur. Looking at each of the escapees the Orge gives a toothy grin. Dey ur gunna regret not putting me down un dey had da chance.
At Oswalds urging and with nods and other various ascent from the escapees Barnabas lifts the final tumbler, freeing the catch on Grumblejack’s cell door. As the door swings open Grublejack makes his hands into fists, letting the cartilage in his knuckles pop and crack. Quiet, then smash. whispers the Orge, his voice like the sound of distant thunder, as he looks to the light shining out from the reinforced door leading to the guard station.
"Quiet then lash." grins Kherg back.
He looks at the others ready for the break out.
"Excellent GrumbleJack, glad to have you aboard."
Allying yourself with murderous ogres now, are we? Have we sunk so low as that, Barnabas?
"Ok folks. I think it's go time. Let me go take a listen at the door to ge a rough idea of how many we're up against and unlock the door. Then in we go. Hit them hard and fast. If we're lucky we can drop them before the raise the alarm. Good luck."
Gripping the dagger painfully, Barnabas heads towards the guardroom door, straining to pick out any voices from beyond it. Come on lady luck, don't fail me now. If he makes it there undetected, he listens at the door straining to determine how many guards are present within. Once he has a solid guess he'll gesture back to the others indicating the count and will start unlocking any locks that bar the door and prepare to burst within.
Slowly easing his way towards the door, Barnabas grips his dagger in a sweaty hand. With ever so quiet steps he reaches the iron reinforced door and puts his ear to the door listening for the sounds of conversation. After several moments the slight man is able to pick out the sounds of three men. Quietly holding up his hand to indicate three guards, the unrepentant slaver begins to carefully unlock the door. His heart beating in his chest, Barnabas finishes his clandestine work and holding his breath hears a quiet click. Hearing the conversation continue unabated on the other side he gives a terse nod to the other convicts before throwing open the door.
As the door is thrown open you can see what appears to be a small twenty foot by twenty foot guard room. There is a ridiculously large fireplace on the southern wall and a peg near the door that has several sets of keys hanging on it as well as a large brass tipped signaling horn. In addition there are stairs leading down towards another floor and another door to the east, this one not reinforced. There's a small table in the center and sitting around it are three guards, one who has his feet kicked up on the table and was in the middle of lifting a bottle of whiskey to his lips. All three of the guards are armed with longswords and clubs and are armored in chain shirts emblazoned with the blue and white seal of Branderscar and laying next to them are three longbows with a matching quiver.
Eyes wide with shock the guards are completely surprised to see the rag wearing convicts burst into the room, armed with daggers and chains. Then as Grumblejack rushes forward, the surprise turns to fear. Keeping his promise, the orge doesn't say a word as he runs past Barnabas, putting his sizable mass between the guards and the stairway down, blocking any possible escape for the sanctimonious gaolers.
Kherg pushes past the rogue, bumping against the doorjamb in a rush to help Grumblejack. After the ogre occupies the exit, he heads round the table at the man drinking, grinning and spitting as he goes. If the shocked guard moves, then like an ape, the dwarf wrestles him off his feet in a hug.
Not wasting any time, Ethaniel grips the dagger tightly in his right hand as he extends his left one, the palm towards the surprised guards. As he speaks a brief incantation softly, a small greenish orb of what appears to be acid coalesces into existence in front of his hand. It remains there for but a second before shooting forward and striking one of the guards in the shoulder, the burning liquid creating a sizzling wound at the point of impact.
His simple cantrip finished, Ethaniel finds that he cannot suppress a little smile as he finally uses his skills at something other than simple training. Still, he chases the feeling away, focusing once again on the situation at hand and getting ready to enter the fray as soon as he can.
Oswald snarls at the guards as he pulls at his prison shirt, ripping off a small scrap of fabric as his voice starts to rise and fall in a sing-song voice. He points his finger at a guard (Branderscar Guard 2) as he declares, "You have taken my sweet Rosaline from me! Feel my despair, worm!" before unleashing his spell at the man.
"Ah, our first fight!" Kaynen purrs as he shifts a bit of cloth from his left hand to his right and begins reciting arcane syllables.
"The excitement begins!"
Ariana moves forward slighty but stays away from the table, keeping some distance and the ogre between herself and the guards. She's always felt vulnerable around blades, unable to wear any suitable protection and thus susceptible to weapons. Her prison rags afforded her even more nervousness, and so she didn't dare leap forward with her claws yet, instead letting her magical energies flow and unleashing a well-deserved blast of acid to one of the guards.
She hurls the spell toward him, snarling loudly as she does so, putting all of her fury into the spell. In her anger, she misaimed, sending it careening over his shoulder instead, the hiss of steam rising as it began to eat through the table. She cursed, and took a few deep breaths, trying to remind herself that she was going to miss a lot more if she was seeing red.
Barnabas dodges out of the way as a flood of bodies rushes past him. Following in after them, he quickly surveys the room, taking in the details.
Well done Grumblejack. You're smarter than I would have given you credit for.
Noticing the horn on the wall, he makes his way to it and takes it from its peg. Can't have them calling for back up now can we.
Brandishing the knife, he flashes a wicked grin. "The ogre's hungry and none too pleased with you lot. Sit down and shut up and you might live to see the dawn."
Mikhail stands still as the others rush in, taking the time to assess the situation. One is slower than the others, and he recalls the chatter he heard hours earlier about drinking on duty. He sets his cold, intense stare on that slow-moving guard, who struggles to get to his feet and pull out his blade. Mikhail springs into motion, runninghard and fast - faster than his patrician appearance might suggest - and rushes next to the intoxicated guardsman. He pushes the man further off-balance and reaches for the blade. The guard tries to hang on to it, and the pair struggle over it for several seconds. After a few moments of struggle, Mikhail wrenches it back and holds the naked steel in his hand. He stares into the terror-filled eyes of the guard. Mikhail smiles, showing his fangs.
Init Mikhail Halancoun: 25
Init Ethaniel Tessarin: 17
Init Barnabas Wright: 24
Init Kergh the Dwarf: 7
Init Ariana Ddraig: 5
Init Oswald Turrill: 5
Init Kaynen Catesby: 5
Init Branderscar Guard: 10
Init Grumblejack: 15
As the door to the guard room is thrown open, the guards gasp in shock. As Grumblejack rushes past them to block the stairs, Barnabas steps in and grabs the signal horn hanging from the peg on the door. Wrapped in chains, Kergh follows, with his odd loping gate, where he throws himself at the drunken guard. Mikhail carefully watches for an opening before rushing in towards the drunken guard that is in the process of also being grappled by Kergh. Taking advantage of the situation the pale charismatic man is able to get a free hand on the guards longsword, ripping it out of the mans hands as he is being dragged down to the ground by Kergh.
As all of this is happening Ethaniel calls upon his years of training and summons forth a small glob of acid from his hand, striking the guard nearest to the stairwell. With a grim sense of satisfaction the Ethaniel watches as the acid burns a fist size hole in the mans armor before eating away at the soft tissue underneath. As this takes effect however, Ethaniel is overcome with a wave of sickness as the anti-magic field that surrounds the prison attunes itself to the magus.
In the hallway Ariana, Kaynen and Oswald all call upon their magical abilitys in one form or another. Ariana prepares herself for the wave of sickness, and recalling her fathers mantras manages to summon up a globe to match Ethaniels. However in her anger she misses her aim, instead striking the table that the guards were sitting at, causing it to bubble and steam as the acid begins to eat through the wood. Kaynen grips his bit of wool tightly between his fingers and also manages to overcome the anti-magic ward that suffuses the building. As he finishes completing the spell, he points to the guard, and a glassy, dazed look over takes the grappled man. Oswald also attempts the same trick, however he is unprepared for the wave of dizziness and vertigo that overtakes him and he is unable to finish the incantation.
Now that Grumblejack finally has the oppertunity to savage the guards that have kept him confined for so long he does so with relish. Swinging his fist with recklass abandon the orge attempts to smash the guard closest to the stairwell, however his months of captivity slow his swing. As the lumbering orge's fist swings past the man, it instead strikes the wooden chair that the man was sitting on, breaking it into splinters.
[ooc]Will save vs Daze (DC 12):
Thinking it best to take advantage of the distracting presence of the hulking ogre, Barnabas slips in behind the target of GrumbleJack's ire.
Ok Barnabas you can do this. Right foot forward and put your weight into it.
With a grimace of distaste, he darts in and his thrusting blade finds a chink in the guard's armour, biting deep and spilling the first blood of the confrontation
Momentarily taken aback by the sick feeling washing over him, Ethaniel shakes his head and chases it away as he eyes the guard already attacked by Grumblejack and Barnabas, the same guard the magus himself hurt seconds ago with his spell of acid. Narrowing his eyes, he quickly moves towards the man and strikes, the knife in his hand moving in a straightforward stabbing motion. Unfortunately, perhaps owing to Ethaniel's brief bout of dizziness after casting his spell, he has his blow stopped by his foe's mail shirt.
As Kergh wraps his muscular arms around the drunken guard and Mikhail grabs the sword from his scabbard, the man dazedly remains slack. He has a glassy look in his eye and makes no attempt to fight back. While not stunned, the man acts as if he has already accepted the inevitable.
The first guard, now surrounded by Grumblejack, Barnabas and Ethaniel, bleeding from a dagger thrust and burnt from acid looks around frantically, spotting the signal horn in the slavers hand. Knowing that he has mere seconds before he will likely be cut down, he drops his sword and lunges for the horn, trying to make his death count for something. As he does so however he opens himself up to an attack from Barnabas. Seeing an opportunity the rogue jabs his dagger forward in an attempt to keep the guard away from the horn. As the disgraced nobles blade arcs in towards the man, it narrowly skitters along the mans armor, splitting off several chain links. Undeterred the man pushes himself forward under a rain of blows and manages to wrench the horn out from the rogues hands, but only by the slimmest of margins. As he raises the horn to his lips he takes a deep breath, preparing to sound the signal horn.
The second guard looks at Oswald, and yells I have nothing to say to you Forsaken! Before he sees Ariana complete her spell. As a globe of acid flies towards him, he dodges at the last second causing the acid to burning the table. Eyes locking on the woman who threw it at him, he rushes forward, raising his longsword to chop it down onto her. As the sword rushes down he yells out. Die Devil Worshiper! May you burn in Mitra's holy flames! Sword arcing, it narrowly misses Ariana. Cursing at his failed blow the man prepares himself to strike again.