Ariana's deep breaths come in handy as she just barely avoids the sword, as it keeps her nerves steady. She still has no idea what she's doing, but this is not the time to get lost in her inexperience.
She calls on her claws, flourishing with her fingers as they turn into deadly weapons, and sets them upon the guard. "I hope you enjoy suffering for the amusement of Asmodeus."
She sinks the claws into the guard's arm, and for the very first time the boon of her heritage tastes blood; real blood, not whatever remains in the carcass strung up for practice. She feels as the noble and deadly dragons whose blood flows through her once did, and a smile creeps across her lips as she tears the claw out, letting droplets of scarlet splatter to the side. As she does, she brings her other claw to bear.
He avoids it, and she curses and spits at him for doing so, but instead of lingering, makes a deft step back, going closer to where her allies are armed, feeling safer among friendly blades.
Oswald gasps as the waves of nausea that threaten to set him to vomiting. He fights back the bile, gritting his teeth in a snarl as he raises his hand at the guard about to sound the horn. Spiting each word, Oswald once more recites his lyrical spell, shredding another scrap of his mangy uniform. "Where is my Rosaline?! Where, where, where!!!"
Kherg tightens his grip on the dazed and barely struggling drunk. His arms gather the hug and link, with Kherg finishing with one hand over the man's mouth. The dwarf grins at everyone else, the fight dying out of his victim for now. But Kherg frowns at the signal horn at the lips. He frowns at Barnabas in a lopsided fashion.
Kaynen begins to hum to himself as the sounds of clinks, grunts and splurches make their way about the room. Closing his narrow half-elven eyes, he bobs his head for a few moments before opening them again.
"A horn? No, fool! It's not time, yet!"
With an open palm, he flourishes at the guard carrying the horn, while continuing the melody inside his head.
With a grim sense of amusement Grumblejack watches as the little un's fight over the scrap of bronze. The orge watches as the man lunges for the horn and rips it out of his lanky man's hand. Realizing what might befall the rest of the escapees should he be allowed to sound the horn, Grumblejack makes another swing at the man. This time connecting with a strike that drives the guard to his knee.
In the other corner of the room the second guard reels as wicked three inch claws sprout from Ariana. Were a second before, was a young helpless waif of a girl was now stood a proud woman fully enthralled in her draconian heritage. The guard eyes go wide in shock and his face pales while he whispers under his breath. Devil.. devil-kin! Mitra protect me!
Standing next to each other, Kaynen and Oswald both call again upon their dazing cantrip. While Oswald is able to overcome the power of the Anti-magic aura that suffuses the prison block, Kaynen is not so lucky. As the young revolutionary grips tight his bit of wool and points towards the valiant guardsman desperately gripping the horn, he is racked by waves of nausea and it is all that he can do to not throw up. Oswald however braces himself for the impending unpleasantness and his able to focus through it. Uttering a beguiling word of power, the dirty gravedigger waggles a finger, and points towards the guardsman holding the horn. As the spell begins to settle around the man, and his arm begins to droop, the guardsman blinks rapidly, the daze falling from his eyes. I won't fall to your petty mind tricks! The guard yells. Mitra is my shield!
Meanwhile, next to the table that has mostly been destroyed, Kergh takes quick advantage of the fact that the drunk and weak willed guardsman dosen't seem to be fighting back. With several sure moves the misshapen hunched man manages to fully pin the guardsman with his weight, while he clamps one massive hand over the drunken mans mouth to prevent any more of the meaningless prattle that the Mitran followers so often seem to do.
Mikhail turns towards the guard with the horn, trying to stop him from blowing the horn and alerting the others. He takes the blade in both hands and lunges forward. The surrounded guard, still reeling from the ogre's heavy blow, stumbles just as Mikhail thrusts the blade at him. The longsword misses his neck by mere inches. He pulls back and hisses to Barnabas and Ethaniel, "Kill him before he warns the others!"
No, no, no...You go through all the trouble to get the drop on the fools and then you just hand the fool the damned horn. You can fix this. You must stop him!
Barnabas slashes at the guard once more, but his light blade simply refuses to find a gap in the guards armour.
In pure desperation he draws on a deep reserve he didn't even know he had and finds a way to bring his dagger to bear on last time. With a growl of rage he abadons his slashing attacks and goes for a more direct thrust. Fortune finds him at last and the dagger finds a seam in the guard's hauberk, plunging in to the hilt. With a gasp as his strength leaves him, the guard's legs buckle beneath him and he sinks slowly to the floor. Barnabas watches the horn fall from the dying guard's now limp hands with vicious grin of triumph. Feeling that the horn is better where it is than in his hands after that last near catastrophe, Barnabas moves to engage the guard with the sword.
"You're next, sunshine."
With his current opponent falling beneath Barnabas' knife, Ethaniel quickly spins around and moves to close the distance between himself and the guard facing Ariana. Charging at the man as fast and forcefully as he can, he buries his knife hilt deep between his new foe's ribs, the now dying man gasping for breath as blood pools in his mouth.
Seconds before the heroic guardsman is able to sound horn to signal that the prisoners have escaped, Barnabas drives his dagger forward in vicious a thrust up through a weak point in the mans armor and into his lung. Coughing up blood, the man falls to his knees and the horn clatters to the ground. As his life blood flows out of him, the man desperately claws for the horn. Having none of it, Mikhail quickly steps forward brushing the horn away with his foot. Grasping, the man reaches one last time for the horn before he drops into unconsciousness.
Watching the guardsman's blood pool out around him, you step forward to sweep the horn away with your foot. As you do so, you are disturbed. Looking down into the pool, you can see the red-black tinged reflection of the room in the spreading blood. What you don't see however is your reflection.
As Mikhail steps forward and sweeps the guards horn away, his already pale face becomes even more so. Tracking his gaze, you see that he is peering into the spreading pool of blood, as if searching for something.
In the same instant that Barnabas's blade strikes true, Ethaniel whirls around and turns his dagger on the guard that was wildly swinging his longsword at Ariana. Taking advantage of the fact that the man is wholly concentrated on the "devil-kin" Ethaniel whips the dagger forward executing a perfect Wind Sweeps the Mountain causing the dagger to sweep up through the mans ribs and into his heart. As the man struggles, Ethaniel steps up behind him and covers the dying mans mouth with his other hand to prevent him from screaming.
Watching in horror as both of his friends are cut down in seconds, the drunken guard tries to shove the brutish priest of Asmodeus off of him and escape the grapple. As he does so he tries screaming however Kergh's hand tightly grips his mouth, muffling the shout. Shaking in fear the guard attempts to struggle but finds that the brutish dwarf is far too strong. As the drunk feebly struggles Kergh wrap's his massive hands around the mans throat and begins to squeeze. Eyes fluttering the man tries to fight, but with the other guards dying and seven angry inmates surrounding him there is nothing he can do. Knowing that he has no chance, the hope flees from him. Wheezing and between gasps for breath, the drunken man begs for his life.
"Shhhh shhh," whispers Kherg into the man's ear to calm him down, saliva sprays and his hot breath adds to the gentle menace.
Eyes wide with fear and pinned to the ground the man looks past he misshapen man towards his friends who lay dying on the ground and he feels something break inside of him. Feeling the saliva spray on his face and the hot breath along his ear, the drunken man shutters in revulsion. Please... please... He whimpers, terrified. I.. I don't want to die. I'll tell you anything.. anything, just don't kill me!
"I can break him if he lies," says the dwarf in a matter-of-fact and soulless manner. His eyes are wide open and the realisation of just how strong he really is and the sweet singing fear it is causing makes the adrenalin shine out.
"This went well," Ethaniel states almost matter-of-factly, at least if one disregards a hint of grim satisfaction hidden behind the words. In truth, his contentment does not have to do with the death of the guards so much as with his own performance during his first real fight. Although not saddened by his enemies' demise, he is not happy either. Still, it had to be done; this was not mere training, this was his life or theirs. And in his eyes, that makes the choice very simple indeed.
Using a nearby piece of cloth to wipe the blood off of his knife and taking a moment to inspect the blade afterwards, he then scans the now more or less quiet scene. 'Armor, a few weapons and a bottle of strong drink,' he notes, shaking his head as he finds nothing of use to him. "And these keys," he then says out loud. "I wonder what they are for."
Taking a step closer to the dwarf and his captive, there is a very brief look of distaste as he sees the misshapen man's almost gleeful expression, as well as the saliva escaping his mouth. It quickly disappears though, his expression once again neutral and calm.
"I see no reason why we could not leave him here gagged and bound once he tells us everything we want to know," he offers, his words sincere.
Mikhail watches impassively as the two men bleed to death, watching the blood pump out of their wounds. Each moment, the blood pumps a bit slower and weaker. He feels drawn to it more than usual. Perhaps it is the exhaustion or stress of the situation, but thetangy scent of the hot blood fills his senses. He pushes it aside for now. "Doctor, please treat their wounds as best you can, then strip them, take their weapons and their armor. Dress them in our own clothing and place them in the cells."
He turns his attention to the guard still living. While he knows that he can use the power of his voice against the man, a trivial task, he does not have the time to do so. "Help us and you can live. Do you have a name?" Mikhail does not ask because he cares, but rather because he knows the power of a name in crafting a lie. "Are there other prisoners? How many other guards serve here? What will they do if they discover that we've escaped?"
"And how far does the anti-magic ward extend?" She didn't have any worthwhile questions to add, but she needed to know how long it would be before she could let loose with her spells in celebration. Instead, she goes over to the equipment pile, looking through it for anything that could be of use. She picks up a club, swinging it around a little and trying it out. She looks at the swords, then back to her companions. It's not a pertinent matter, but she hopes for a dagger once they're in the clear. Everything else is unusable for her.
As she puts it down, she notices her hand, still dripping with blood. She smiles, leaning it up to sniff the prize of her slaughter. It makes her smile a crooked smile.
Kaynen swims into the room, the arcane gestures of his last spell continuing into a spin and flourish as he half-bows to one of the guard's now empty chairs with a smile.
Seemingly now unopposed to physical exertion, the half-elf drags one of the guard's corpses into a chair before turning to everyone else in the room for dramatic pause.
"Costumes, anyone?" he wonders before immediately getting to work removing the man's chain shirt.
Nearing completion, he adds to the drunken captive, "and yours too my dear chap, you won't be needing it shortly..."
As the half-elf continues to sort through the weapons, careful observation can reveal a twisted expression on his face as various promises to let the guards live are proposed.
We just need one witness. The stories are always better when it's just one man's wild imagination...
Kaynen begins to strap one of the guard's longswords to his belt before handing out the other assorted spoils to willing recipients while humming The Flight of the Wingless Raven, a rousing "escape" tune that he hopes will infect the minds of the others.
Ariana and Oswald I assume will be taking daggers (as I do not believe they are proficient with longswords or longbows?)
Kergh strikes me as a clubbing sort, assuming he can be separated from his new chain.
Ethaniel and Mikhael should be using two of the longswords. This likely means they should be wearing the chain shirts as well?
I don't think Barnabas as a rogue get proficiency the longsword, yet bard somehow does, so that's why Kaynen's helping himself to the "gentlemanly" weapon. He's also fond of the idea of "acting" in the role of a guard in a future "scene".
"I would not mind a change of clothes," Ethaniel says with a crooked little smile. "It would certainly be a welcome change from what I am currently wearing..."
"As for the rest," he continues, motioning towards the various weapons and armor, "I do not like having something like that weighing me down. And as for a weapon, the knife will do just fine for now." His eyes move to look at one of the two fallen guards. "It has certainly proven effective enough."
On Loot Distribution:
Shaking in terror, the guard tries to take several deep breaths but Kergh's massive weight allows nothing but the slightest trickle of air to be sucked in. Eyes darting back and forth towards the spreading pools of blood the drunk barely struggles as his gear is stripped off of him and he is left on the stone floor in his small clothes surrounded by seven of Mitra's forsaken. Fearfully the drunk licks his lips, his breath wheezing through his nostrils.
My.. my name is Lorin. I.. I'll tell you anything. I have a wife and child. I just want to see them again. Seeming as if the man is stalling, Kergh begins to slowly press down on the man, breathing into his ear while ropes of drool drip from his misshapen jaw. Properly motivated Lorn stammers and nods. There's.. there's twenty four of us.. Eyes locking onto the his two friends, Lorn's eyes cloud over. Twenty two of us now... plus sergeant Blackerly and Warden Richter. There's also some villagers on the first floor. They come in at night and prepare meals for the prison in the morning, they should be in the kitchen. About half will be off duty and probably in the barracks getting some rest, or drinking and gambling with the Sargent in the Gatehouse. The rest are scattered around the prison. On the walls, in the entry hall and at the gatehouse. But its no use. Even if you managed to escape, the Warden would send word to Varyston. A reward for your capture would be posted, dead or alive. Checkpoints would be set up on the roads and patrols with dogs would scour the wilderness. Even if you got past all of that, there's still a detachment of the elite Knights of the Alerion that man a chapter house there. No one has ever escaped from Branderscar and survived. Its hopeless. Loric wheezes, watching as the the other two guards are stripped of gear.
Good, good.. Whispers Kergh, squeezing the hand around Loric's throat. Tell us everything.
You and the orge are the only prisoners left. All the rest were executed or sent to the Varyston salt mines for hard labor. We.. we don't hold forsaken for long. The orge was an exception. The Sergeant wanted to wait for a special occasion before a public execution of the beast. Eyes darting toward Ariana the man shrugs but even that movement is restricted by Kergh's weight. I don't know much about it. I think whatever is causing it is on the first floor near the Armory. Anytime I stand shifts down in the great hall, I always feel sick by the end. I'm not sure how far it extends. Not far though.. maybe just this main building. I never get the headaches when I'm on the walls or manning the gatehouse.
And the key's? Kergh whispers, running his hand along the mans hair, like a boy might pet an unruly dog.
They are for our lockers in the two barracks halls. Each man gets issued one while he's here. Eyes looking around trying to spot the prisoner who seems to be in charge, Lorin looks up into the pale visage of Mikhail. I've told you everything you asked. I.. I did what you said.
Everything the man has told you is true. He is afraid for his life and would say anything if he thought it would keep him alive. You do sense that he knows how many guards are typically posted to particular locations, though he was a little vague about the specifics.
Barnabas runs a shaky hand through his hair, his muscles twitching as the adrenaline leaves his system.
Too close, that was too close.
He turns to the huge ogre, thankful that creature was on their side, if only for the present.
"Good work Grumblejack. That was some quick thinking on blocking the stairwell. Let's take a breather before we smash some more of these guards."
Listening to what the guard says, he nods along thoughtfully. Skirting the downed men and looting, he squats down next to the guard.
"That's a good start Lorin, but I can't help but feel that you could be more helpful if you really wished. So let's try again: Most importantly, when were you three set to be relieved? Next describe the layout of the prison and tell us where the guards are normally posted. Do you have any dogs? If so where? Are there any restricted areas? Are there any codewords used by the guards? Tell us about this warden and where might his office be? Really, there is so much we would know and so little time. So you had better hurry."
Mikhail pulls the man to his feet, gently taking him from Kergh. "Answer the questions, Lorin. If you do not, there will be consequences." He bares his fangs in a snarl, enjoying the power as the terrified guard realizes what he is. He bites into the man's neck, taking a deep draw from the vein. His blood is hot and fast-pumping with terror. Mikhail wrenches himself away and drops the man to the ground. From above, he stares down at Lorin as he wipes the blood off his lips. "Do you know what I am? Did they tell you that you were to guard a vampire? Answer, Lorin, or know what I will do. I will turn you into my vampiric thrall, under my total and complete mental control. After you arise, I will send you back to your beloved family, then drink on your wife and child until they lay dead at your feet. Once that is done, Lorin, I will bury you in the ground where you will remain for all of time, driven mad by hunger and with naught but the screams of your family for comfort."
Recoiling away from Mikhail, Lorin shakes his head in despair .. no no no! Lorin cries, tears running down his face as he clutches at his neck to stanch the wound. Please no! Shaking his head over and over the pitiful wretch of a man cries like a child. I.. I'll tell you everything. Just don't turn me into your thrall! Lorin whimpers in between sobs.
Sitting on the floor, one hand weakly gripping his neck Lorin looks from Mikhail to Barnabas. We change shifts every twelve hours. Midnight and noon. Jarod, Kal and Pitor had the next shift. They should be here in about four hours. The prison used to be a castle years ago.. back then it was run by the Hellknights. Its broken up into four parts. The great hall, the wardens tower, the gatehouse and the guardhouse. We are in the great hall now. The top floor is the prison, the bottom floor contains an entry way, where there's usually two guards on duty. There's also an armory and storeroom that the sergeant has the keys to. In addition, there's a mess-hall and kitchen. There should be some cooks in the kitchen, tonight its Gregor and Irena. Licking his lips as if considering a lie, but then thinking back to Mikhail's dark promise, Lorin shutters. Gregor's a big man. He has to go into town some nights.. we don't usually trouble him. The rest of the floor contains the sergeants office and sleeping quarters, when he isn’t on duty or gambling he's usually there either sleeping or working on paperwork. The sergeants room is strictly off limits. There's also a barracks. Twelve of the guys have beds there. I'm not sure how many will be there. It depends. The sergeant is running a game right now, so there might be a few less and some will be sleeping. Four or five I would bet. Maybe six if someone has a bad night of cards.
Once you get out of the great hall, you will be in the central courtyard. There's a big fountain that you will see as soon as you open the doors to from the great hall entry way. The courtyard and the entire prison is surrounded by thirty foot walls. The battlement to the west has one guard patrolling and the battlement to the east usually has two. On the east side of the great hall there's a garden that one of the wardens started years ago. That's where the belladonna bush is that we use to keep unruly prisoners pacified. To the south is the Wardens Tower. That's where he keeps his library and quarters at. Warden Richter lets the sergeant run the prison. He tends to keep to himself unless an alarm is piped. Honestly, I don't know much about him. He tends to keep to himself. You can't miss him through. He wears a black leather eye-patch with a Mitran sunburst stitched into it.
To the north of the central courtyard is the gate house, and next to it is the kennel where we keep our tracking dogs and another barracks. There's usually two guards on the roof, but if its cold or the sergeant is running a game then it might be one. Or they might be drunk. It really depends, but it's usually two. From the roof you can see all of the northern courtyard as well as the stone bridge that runs towards the mainland. Inside of the gate house is where the sergeant runs his games at. I know there's a game going on tonight. That's where I got the whiskey from. When I was there, there was three guys plus the sergeant. There might be more or less. But there was three when I was there an hour ago.
After you pass through the gate house and make it to the stone bridge, there's the guard house at the edge of the bridge leading to the the road that goes to Varyston. There is usually three men and two dogs there, but it might only be two if someone decides to go to the game.
As Lorin finishes giving a description of Branderscar prison, he breaks into tears again. Instinctively he knows that men that he calls friends will die because of the information that he has given to the forsaken. However duty gives way to survival and Lorin hangs his head in shame. This weeks password is “Hesterfield”. I swear.. that's everything. That's all I know. Now please don't turn me! Let me live.. please I beg of you! From the top landing of stairway Grumblejack gives a deep laugh. Tanks Barnbus! the orge says, a slow smile spreading on the orge's face. Da little un uint so tough now! The orge exclaims pointing with a dirt covered nail at the kneeling form of Lorin begging for his life. I dink da we should brand him fur bieing ah trator. Leave him ta wait fur da outherd da find him, un wunder why he was branded ah fursaken.
Oswald pants as if winded at the end of the brief fight. He'd rarely been in such tense situations and the adrenline pumping through his veins takes a few moments to subside. The ringing in his ears slowly recedes to a dim buzz as Mikhail's voice reaches him. Oswald blinks as he looks around at the bodies pooling blood beneath them, "Yes, keep them alive. They must tell me where my sweet Rosaline is before they are left to rot in the stone coffin."
The former doctor proceeds to try and stem the flow of life essences leaking forth from the guards while his attempts are interrupted several times by his fellow former prisoners removing everything of value, down to their knickers, from their motionless forms. Oswald hisses in fustration as he is able to wrench a tourniquet tight on the first guard then finally a few moments later on the second. His task done, the good doctor wipes a blood-smeared hand across his face, leaving trails of congealing plasma streaked across his filthy flesh. Oswald hears the tail-end of the guard spilling his whole life story to the others before stalking closer. Between his bared teeth, Oswald snarls at Lorin, "Where is my little Rosaline? What have you done with her, loathsome dog?! You split us apart and took her away to do unspeakable things to my poor innocent child! Admit it!"
As Kaynen finishes donning the guise of a Branderscar prison guard, he continues to observe Lorin as the man bawls out the sordid details of their prison.
Unable to wipe the grin from his face, he elbows Barnabas and nods to the "businessman" while shaking his head at the sad state the poor guardsman has diminished unto.
"At this rate, we should ask him for the combination to his family's safe. I doubt we will be so fortunate with all the guards in Branderscar, I'm quite shocked that not all the prisoners escape if this is the quality they employ..."
Seeing the others most ignoring the longbows, Kaynen slings one over his shoulder and nods to Mikhail, who seems to be donning the other closest semblance of a Branderscar guard.
Holding a finger to his lips, he exhales a shhh noise as he tiptoes to the top of the stairs before taking a few cautious steps down.
Creeping over to the stairwell, Kaynen peers down the landing towards the room below. The only thing of note is that the stairwell is lit by a sconce holding a torch. Otherwise there is nothing here of any interest. At the end of the stairwell the door leading to the great hall entry way is closed.
Meanwhile above on the landing Oswald manages use each of the guards belts in a makeshift version of a tourniquet. While the application itself isn't pretty, the dirty, lanky haired man seems to do a competent job. The men may later die, but it will likely be due to some disease the doctor carried, rather then bleeding out on a cold stone floor. Rising Oswald, dab's the men's blood on his face and stalks over to Lorin. Snarling at the man, Oswald prods him with his dirty and blood covered finger, snarling at the man and asking what he did with Rosaline.
Already frightened, Lorin looks past the unhinged man towards Barnabas and Mikhail. Get him away from me! Lorin yelps scrambling away, but meeting the resistance from Kergh looming over him from behind. Look! I say I told you everything I know. I don't what happened to any other prisoners! You were the only ones that were brought in. Maybe the warden knows. He has files in his library on every prisoner. Where they were arrested at, any family, court records. All of that stuff. I swear, I don't know anything about a Rosaline.
Lorin is being completely earnest. He doesn't know anything about any other prisoners. He is a simple man, desperate to stay alive.
"A vampire?" Ethaniel's grip on the dagger tightens as he takes a step away from Mikhail, his deep purple eyes narrowing as he regards the pale man as if for the first time. Then his gaze moves to the rest of the inmates, lingering on each one for a moment or two before moving on to the next. He does so not only in an attempt to discern if anyone else is anything more than he or she seems, but also to gauge their reaction to this new piece of information. Still, he is distracted enough by the revelation that he is hardly able to focus on this task of his.
Ariana's eyes move over to Mihail slowly, widening. She looks back down to her claws, suddenly a liability more than a source of pride, and awkwardly wipes the blood off onto the nearest surface and backs away from it slowly.
At the mention of family, she returns to the group. "It may not be the best idea to linger, but I too believe we should go and see about these records. I'm sure we all have information we don't know that they have, or like the mad doctor here wish to find out about our loved ones." The adrenaline again leaves her and she returns to nervousness.
By the Gods! A Vampire? This keeps getting better and better.
"Easy Lorin, you've bought you life for the time being. Grumblejack, can you give me a hand moving our new friend and his wounded companions into their new accommodations. If he some much as squeaks, you can smash him."
Barnabas will see to the moving and shackling of the three guardsmen in the same room that the prisoners originally were in. With them locked away and the door to the cells safely shut, he turns to the other escapees.
"Ah, so Mikhail, you're a vampire? I, ah, would have thought you wold have objected a little more strongly to the suggestion that we open a window in our cell to the bright daylight outside."
Turning to the rest of the group,
"Well I don't know if it was skill or luck, but we've made it this far. It seems like we should be undisturbed for the next few hours, so perhaps we should take a minute or two to make a plan. I don't that we can take out every guard in this place, but we must do our best disuade or prevent any pursuit. The dogs absolutely must go and perhaps this warden fellow. Thoughts?"
While talking Barnabas gets the viel and looking at the patches remaining, removes the one of a sack to see what other goodies they have at their disposal.
As he returns to the guard room, he repeats what he saw downstairs.
"It's clear at the bottom of the stairs - a closed door, and if Lorin can be trusted, beyond I'd speculate as to a large hall with at least a couple more guards."
Kaynen runs his fingers through his air, attempting to make himself look more presentable, wiping any dirt on his face on the shirt he just inherited from one of the guards.
"Once you are satisfied arranging these men in their new room, I suggest we move quickly while we have successfully recruited surprise to our side."
Mikhail nods at Barnabas's suggestion. "Tie them up, dress them in rags, and gag them. Brand them as they have branded us." He rubs the scarring burned flesh on his wrist and starts shrugging on Lorin's chain shirt. Grumblejack drags all three off together into the next room, while Barnabas stands in the doorway and watches the ogre roughly dragging them.
"You're right. Both the dogs and the Warden must die, and all record of our time here must burn. If we can kill the rest of the guards - a few at a time with surprise on our side - we can escape with little risk of being immediately followed. We will start at the armory looking for more weapons and armor, then to the sergeant's room to find whatever he has there. We should have a few hours before anyone comes looking for these three, which will be long enough for us to make our escape." He finishes dressing until he looks just like one of the guards. If any of the guards on the walls spot him, they will likely believe him one of their own until it is too late.
As Barnabas tears away the sack patch from the veil, a large burlap bag appears in his hands. Undoing the drawstring he finds 7 sets of un-descript clothing as well as a much smaller bag that holds various oddities including bat guano, a bit of wool, some rat hair and other items that would be necessary to serve as material components for basic spells. Realizing the importance of the find, the wiry ex-noble quickly ushers Oswald, Kaynen, Ariana and Ethaniel over. Digging through the bag, the motley group quickly separates each of the components so that there will be enough for anyone to cast at least a few spells.
Giving a final inspection over each of the men Kaynen adjusts a cloak here, or changes the way that a sword hangs there, and slowly manages to tease out, what least at a distance would look like three guardsmen. As Kaynen works on the physical disguises, Barnabas looks Kaynen and Mikhail, and gives the occasional quiet suggestion on posture or tone. After several minutes of work, the slaver gives a nod of satisfaction before the three men march down to the hallway doors. Clustering everyone else to the left of the stairwell landing. Mikhail opens the door allowing Kaynen to take the center stage.
Stepping forward into the hallway as if on important business, Mikhail and Barnabas step in behind him, keeping their heads down.
As the door opens ahead of you three, you see a forty foot long and ten foot wide hallway as was described by Lorin. On the left side of the hallway there is two doors and to the right there is two as well. There is also a set double doors at the end of the hallway. Hanging from sconces along the walls are four brightly burning torches and at the end of the hall is two guards. One of the guards appears to be standing at ease, but the other one has his shield laying on the wall next to him and is leaning with his back to the wall. Next to the front doors of the great hall is a peg, and hanging from it is another signal horn.
Before sauntering into the next room, Kaynen gives Ethaniel a knowing look and exchanges what he hopes passes for a signal.
"Listen for one of us to say Kielbasa - that will mean we are in position, and you can rush the room. Perhaps in the first few instants, we can even confuse whatever guards await as to which side we are on. It should be absolutely splendid!"
**
Kaynen strolls into the forty foot long hallway while carrying himself with the demeanor of a Branderscar guard - that is to say, he's ready to torture revolutionaries and brand them with marks of the forsaken to bolster the ranks of what he surmises is a growing revolve within Talingarde.
Giving the pair of guards a curt nod, the half-elf forces his voice into a deeper tone as if he is giving instructions.
"There - another instruments to inspect for ol' Richter."
Kaynen coughs into his fist.
"Let's make it quick. Gregor and Irena are supposed to be making something unusual tonight."
Kaynen moves towards the closest door reachable by the more attentive guard, while gesturing towards the horn.
Sauntering up to the guard with the gait of a man on business. Kaynen steps up to the doorway and holds forth his hand his hand demanding the horn as part of an inspection. Slovenly the attentive guard turns with his back to the group and picks up the horn and begins to hand it to Kaynen. Just as the half-elf manages to get a grip on the horn, the drunken guard wobbling on his feet scratches his head with his free hand. How come the wardens is asking fer tha horn? The man slurs trying to think it through. He's never asked for it before. Realizing that something is not right the other guard looks up into Kaynen's face, eyes going wide with shock. It’s the prisoners! He shouts as he tries to yank the horn from Kaynen's grasp. The prisoners are free!
Kaynen slows his advance as he sees the drunken guard approaching the horn.
Drunk fool, why couldn't he simply lay about in his slobber for a few seconds more?
The half-elf quickly tries to assure the man that handing him the horn is his best course of action.
"Oh! No, no - you are surely mistaken my dear colleage. Now hand over the horn. You don't want to upset the warden, you know how he can be..."
Dressed in actual clothes, Ethaniel finds it a much welcome change from the prison outfit. Still, he does not let this moment of respite distract him from the gravity of his situation. Dagger in hand, he sees the three disguised men enter the hallway. At first, everything seems to be going according to plan, at least as far as he can tell from his spot. 'Kielbasa...,' he thinks to himself with a little shake of his head. His thoughts are quickly interrupted by the voices of the guards. Still, he does not move from his spot, not yet, allowing Kaynen the chance to perhaps salvage the situation and waiting for the signal.
Well that was a quick end to that deception... Really, what kind of go-word is kielbasa? Oswald waits with the others while he listens to the words carrying across the wind. He sighs at thoughts of his family in agony somewhere else in this cursed place.
Eyes taking on a glazed hue, The attentive guard looks up from where he was just engaged in a tug of war with Kaynen for control of the horn. Suddenly unsure of why he was fighting with the half-elf, the man lets go of the horn letting Kaynen have it. Sorry about that. Here you go. The guardsman says shaking his head, looking at Kaynen as if the man is his best friend in the whole world. I don't know what I was thinking, calling you a prisoner. Just a bit of fun is all. Here take it. I don't want the warden to be upset.
Mikhail holds his hands up to the others, telling them to wait before attacking. He gives the drunken guard a disarming smile, taking pains to hide his sharp fangs. He hopes to take advantage of the enchanted guard's acquiescence by making the other guard think they are expected. If his silvered tongue can convince the guard, it will be that much easier to fall upon them. "As you can see, the three of us are the new guards that the Warden has been expecting. Sergeant Blackerly has asked us to lead these prisoners out for their early execution. Do not fear, they've been enchanted so as to be unable to commit any further acts of violence." As he speaks, he closes the distance between himself and the other guard.
Kaynen tugs his disheveled shirt, smoothing the wrinkles before straightening his hair a little and regarding the horn in his possession.
"Seriously mate, not a funny joke," Kaynen gives the guard a disapproving look.
Before continuing, the half-elf licks his lips, "although, I admit I've worked up quite the appetite..."
Cocking his head to the side, the guard rubs his chin, thinking it through A midnight execution? Huh.. I thought we were waiting for the High Inquisitor to arrive from Matharyn. Shrugging the guard moves to pick up his shield. Well, orders are orders. If that’s what the Sergeant ordered then I guess you better take them into the courtyard.
The drunk suspects something and he doesn't recognize you. You get the feeling that he is going to go verify your story with Sergeant Blackerly.
Sensing that the ruse is falling apart, Barnabas tries to get the guards into a more favourable position to overwhelm.
"Do you mind giving us a hand? They're suposed to be docile as babes, something brought in by the Warden, but I'm not one for trusting the damned stuff. Some times the old ways are the best ways and I know I would feel better if they were all trussed up in chains before we try to move them out. Once we get them all ready to move out, we should go get the Sergeant, he said something about wanting to oversee the transportation."
Picking up his shield, the drunk guardsmen turns to the door to leave. Just as he does so Barnabas steps up and asks for the man to give the new guardsmen a hand with prisoners. Sensing something isn't right the man seems to waiver. I don't recognize you. The drunk begins, doubt showing in his eyes. But Chet here seems to. Torn between running off to the sergeant and trusting his friend, the man takes a third route. If your new here, then the Sergeant would have told you this week's password. What is it? The man states, slurring slightly and trying to focus on the three men with his glassy eyes.
As the drunk starts to question the new guardsmen, Chet steps forward. Jesk, what the hell are you doing? Chet asks quietly, leaning in. You can trust these guys. Besides if they said that they are following the wardens orders, then I believe them. Why would they lie to us?
Face already red from the drink, Jesk turns a crimson red. Dammit Chet, I don't care if you know them. I don't Turning back to the new guards, Jesk points at Kaynen. I never heard we were getting new guards, but you know seem to know Chet, Gregor and Irena. So give me this week's password and I'll give you a hand.
:
Hesterfield." Mikhail spits out the password with as much irritation as he can muster. "Now shut up and give us a hand. Is there anyone else in the building who can help?"
Helpfully, Chet pipes up There's a few guys in the barracks, but I think they are sleeping, since they had duty in the morning. Talin was on duty, but he went to the game. Besides us and the cooks, everyone else is either out at the game or down for the night. Stepping forward Chet slaps Jesk on the back. You always get in a bad mood when you've been drinking. Common, let's give them a hand. Still rubbing his jaw and trying to make out what it is that's bothering him, Jesk shrugs and makes his way towards the stairs leading up to the second level. They did have the password after all.
"Much appreciated fellas."
Well if Lorin told the truth about the password, I'm guessing we can trust the rest of his information. Hold on luck, just a little longer..
All smiles, Barnabas lets the others lead the way and makes an effort to drop to the back of the group to get behind the guards.
With Kaynen giving a false smile, he begins to lead the two guards back towards the stairwell with Mikhail flanking the suspicious drunk. As they walk back to the stairs, Banabas slows his gait ever so slightly, allowing him to fall into the back of the group. As they begin to get closer to the doorway leading to the stairs, Jesk rubs his chin. I don't remember seeing you go up.. Jesk starts to say, just as he sees the looming form of Grumblejack and the other forsaken, carrying clubs and chains. Instantly realizing that he was right to be suspicious all along, he starts to turn, only to realize that Barnabas is behind him, ready with a dagger.
"Sorry friend, not your lucky day.
Barnabas steps towards the drunken guard and thrusts his dagger up underneath the chain shirt, digging it deep into the guard's gut.
Round 1, Initiative 19
HP 7/7; AC 12/12/10; CMD 14
+1F/+2R/+2W
1st level spells: 4/4
Claws: 6/7
Ariana eschews the taunting or snarling of her previous attack, remembering how badly her spell went over. Still unsure exactly how to best act in combat she takes it low-key this time, simply drumming up the will to draw her claws and rushing toward the sober guard.
She sinks her first strike into the guard's arm, her muscle tightening and her eyes going wide in glee as she again draws the blood of another worshipper of Mitra. It's so much more satisfying to do it by her own hands than with a ceremonial knife.
Her next attack doesn't succeed, much to her chagrin, and as he dodges it she spits onto his shoulder in disgust and anger.