"Looks like the prison garrison was designed to be much larger, fortunately for us, their vigilance has waned."
Barnabas will take the rapier and poisoner's dagger. Seeing the pair of bottles with the same marking as the one found among the guard's possessions gives him a clue as to what they must be and grabbing them, he makes a note to have the severely wounded Ethaniel drink one to test his theory.
When Mihail points out the trapdoor, he hunkers down to take a look.
"Well what do we have here..."
Running his fingers lightly around the edge of the trapdoor, he checks for any nasty surprises. If none are found he pulls it open to have a look.
Shaking his head to indicate no sounds can be detected beyond the southern door, Kaynen watches intently as Barnabas opens to door to the armory beyond.
Unable to suppress his own curiosity as to the room's contents, Kaynen strolls in behind Mikhael and Barnabas to survey the rooms interior.
"Hrmm. Something unpleasant lurks about here, I can feel it in the pit of my stomach. Can you two sense it?"
Kaynen gives a glance to Barnabas, Mikhail and Kergh.
"Contraband! Excellent, perhaps there is a treasonous violin or a seditious fiddle within that I can..."
The half-elf's eyes count up the various instruments within the chest, none of them musical.
"Alas, more weapons. One would think the only recognizable danger in Talingarde is the physical kind."
Shrugging, Kaynen begins to hand out items to the others that he thinks would be reasonable matches, taking the time to read and make a mental note of each pinned letter.
"Here, Oswald. Take this spear..."
The illegible note pinned to it makes about as much sense as your ramblings...
"And Ariana, your claws shan't last forever, a lovely comb-shiv or a staff for you..."
"Kergh, no dwarf should be seen without a battleaxe such as this.."
"Perhaps this massive sword, Ethaniel? Or this guisarme? This leather shirt appears to be about your size, as well. No blood to be found on it, either!"
"Mrphm.. *crunch* Lil. Ah! Looks like *mrmrhhl* had a diary. Let's see what *chrmm* was dreaming about this week, shall we?"
Ariana enters into the armory, taking a step back and groaning as the ward hits her even harder. "The ward is nearby," she says, pulling in all of her focus to overcome the sickening feeling a second time.
Managing to brace herself, she resists the ward's influence this time and steps closer. The comb-knife makes her smile, and she gladly accepts it with a nod, placing the dagger she looted earlier on a table and taking the more subtle weapon instead. She places it in her hair for the moment, and then gives the staff a few swings. "Perhaps," she notes. "We should prioritize the contraband weapons we don't take for being carried out; if there are notorious names on them, it should make for a nice little bonus when we sell them."
She inspects staw-filled box, finding the two bottles and looking at them curiously. "As should these odd things."
Ethaniel enters the armory as well, a wave of nausea washing over him as he does so. Still, he manages to brace against it well enough, shaking his head to clear it. "Yes," he says in agreement to Ariana's remark about the ward. "Perhaps we could find it and disable it. It should improve our chances at escaping somewhat."
Inspecting the guard uniforms and weaponry, he turns to the rest. "I could wear one of these uniforms as well, if it would help with the deception," he says before his attention focuses on his wound again. "But I think a little healing would help as well..."
Taking note of the chest of contraband and its contents, his expression turns to one of disappointment for a brief moment. "Not here," he mutters, more to himself than to anyone else in particular.
"I could use the heavy mace or the quarterstaff, unless someone else has their eye on them. Between my magic and the dagger, I should do well enough for a while longer."
Kergh tries to ignore the sickening pain in the pit of his stomach. He wants to see inside the armory box.
Stubborn and ugly go together to make a mere bout of nausea nothing. Briefly Kherg looks at the heavy mace and its lovely edges but seeing that look in Ethaniel's eyes he shrinks back a little and hands it over.
"Sorry," he mumbles.
Ethaniel's crooked smile appears on his face again as he notices the look Kergh is giving the blackened mace. "No," he says in a friendly enough tone as he makes no move to accept the weapon. "You keep it. I think you will probably put it to better use."
"Besides," he adds in the end, "it seems strangely... fitting."
Quietly, Grumblejack grabs two of the dead guards while Kergh begins lugging the wounded Gregor and unconscious Irena up the stairs to the prison block. Between their efforts, the two massive brutes are able to gather all of the dead and wounded into the prison without any difficulties. Shoving them into an unlocked cell, Kergh slams it closed and returns to the armor just as Barnabas finishes opening the trapdoor.
Filing in behind Barnabas the others begin looting the armory for everything its worth. Throwing open the box labeled contraband the various weapons and armor are handed out and suddenly the rag-tag group of forsaken are much, much more dangerous. Kneeling next to the trapdoor Barnabas runs his hands along the edges looking for and latches or hidden triggers. Finding nothing the slight man eases the inset door up exposing a small room below.
Opening the trapdoor you see iron rungs that have been inset into the stone work below. The room itself is ten feet long by ten feet wide and it is roughly twenty feet deep. At the bottom of the room is a stone obelisk that seems to be carved with symbols, but your unable to make out the specifics at this range. In addition the stone floor is missing from the bottom of this room and in its place is dirt that seems to be the actual foundation for the prison. Finally, set in a circle around the obelisk are thirteen smaller stone pyramids each about one or two feet high.
Barnabas, your years of respectable business would tell you that anything bearing the mark of Talingard is considered military property and buying or selling it is considered a crime. Normally it would be very difficult to offload marked items such as this through the normal channels. If you were still in control of your families resources you could have them shipped off the island for a small profit, and you probably have done so at several points in your career.
Ethaniel, seeing the dusty swords laying in racks along the wall, your mind stops on a memory from long ago given during a passing lesson with your mentor Marvius. You recall him telling you that it’s not uncommon for men who have served in the military to “borrow” the sword that is issued to them when they leave the service, especially so near the northern watch wall where the occasional raid by Yutak or along the western frontier near the massive forest known as the Caer Bryr where the Iraen tribes still conduct the occasional raid or skirmish with Talingard settlers.
Opening the journal of your dear friend Chet, it contains mostly rubbish, as you would expect from such a simple and weak-minded man. There are several interesting tidbits however. In his journal Chet mentioned that this week’s password is “Hesterfield” It’s apparently the town that Warden Richter grew up in. He also writes some dribble that mentions how he liked to feed the guard dogs treats and they love anyone who gives them snacks. Really, if the writing is any indication it’s an amazing in itself that Chet was able to write in the first place. You have seen better expositions scribbled on the back of stall doors in university taverns of Ghastenhall.
Oswald gives Gregor one last poke in the ribs before spinning around and letting Grumblejack carry him up to the cells. Buried in the tomb. Yes, all must be buried in the tomb for taking my sweet ones away! The former doctor goes off in search of the others as they crowd into the armory, distributing better weaponry amongst their number. An odd spear is thrust into his hands by Kaynen which Oswald pays little mind as he uses the hand holding it to gesture wildly about, "All well and good, I'm sure but we must find the tower. The Warden's Tower. The Warden has that which we want, that which was taken from us!"
As soon as the trapdoor is swung open, Oswald starts to twitch and rub at his ears. His eyes blink rapidly as he looks about, "What is that droning? Like a swarm of bees in my ear. It dulls the sound of my sweet child. Silence it, silence it!" Oswald mutters a spell under his breath, struggling through a brief wave of nausea to reach for the power to see the waves of magic in the air.
Poking his head into the trap door, Barnabas takes in the unusual apparatus and shrugs.
"One of you magicky types might what to take a look at this," he says, as he clambers out of the cumbersome chain shirt and into the more comfortable scarred leather.
Barnabas hands Ethaniel one of the potion bottles,
"I have an inkling that this might help with your injury. Seems like the kind of thing you would find in an armoury. If nothing else, I doubt it will do you any harm."
Seeing Ariana calculating profit, Barnabas feels the need to chime in,
"We should take the contraband because it's nondescript. We're going to have to dump all this Talingard marked stuff before we reach civilization. It's illegal for non-military to be in possession of it. It'll be almost imposible to sell."
"I do not know if it means anything to you," Ethaniel remarks as he accepts the offered potion bottle with a small bow of his head in thanks, "but as far as the swords go at least, they might not raise much suspicion. From what I know, it is not so uncommon for men who have served in the military to... well, let us say "borrow" the sword issued to them when they leave the service."
"Still, we can hardly carry all that stuff out of here, anyway. Our goal is to escape first and foremost, not get rich while doing it..."
He chuckles softly and then brings the potion to his lips. Shrugging, he takes a sip and then a second one before drinking the whole thing.
"Our goal is to survive. We're six people, and we need to worry about equipment, shelter, and food whether we decide to rough it out in the middle of nowhere or not. We can hardly return to our homes and resume life as normal." She sighs, turning away and raising her hands, bringing in lots of deep breaths. Even if it's not bringing her to her knees the ward is throwing her off enough to make her words harsher. "Very well, you have a better grasp on fencing goods than I do, so I will leave it to you and return to studying the map."
Mikhail eyes the obelisk in the room. A cautious man by nature, he resists the impulse to destroy it immediately in order to free the others from its hindrance. It may yet have other uses or have a contingency. "Ethaniel, will you examine this? You were able to determine the nature of the veil. Can you tell if this is the source of your magical hindrance? If so, what would happen as to its destruction? Would the warden be affected by it as well if we brought it to his presence?" While he directs the question at Ethaniel, the rest can hear his line of questioning.
Letting the now empty potion bottle fall to the floor, Ethaniel moves ahead, entering the room with the obelisk slowly and with great caution. Although he takes care not to touch either the central obelisk or the smaller stone pyramids surrounding it, he does attempt to get close enough to get a better look of both the things themselves as well as any writing or other symbols on them.
Kaynen peers beyond the trapdoor at the obelisks arranged in the room below.
"You know, I have felt something of a pinch whenever I've dabbled in magic here. You know, I'd think those pyramids have a bit something to do with the effect..."
Kaynen glances about at the others.
"Well? Change their positions or something, turn them sideways. I doubt the effects do much to the guards or the warden, what with their minds so small and narrow."
Chuckling softly, Ethaniel brings the cross marked bottle to his lips before drinking it. Immediately the swordsman’s wounds began knit, closing up the worst of his wounds, but not healing them entirely. Still in pain, but far less than before, Ethaniel gives a nod to Mikhail before descending down the trapdoor. Making his way down the dirt floor twenty feet below, the man carefully begins to examine the relic, while Oswald and Kaynen peer down into the gloom below.
Peering down into the trapdoor next to Kaynen, you’re able to see that the obelisk and each of the thirteen foot high pyramids radiate a moderate amount of abjuration magic. Obelisk itself is clearly immovable. The portion that is above ground rises six feet from the un-worked dirt floor while it seems to continue on into the ground. The next curiosity is that carved into the obelisk into tight flowing script are hundreds of carefully formed elven runes. Beyond that you are unable to make anything else out.
Climbing down into the small sub-cellar of the prison you carefully begin to exam the stone obelisk and the stone inset pyramids. The first thing that becomes readily apparent is that obelisk itself is immovable. The portion that is above ground rises six feet from the un-worked dirt floor while it seems to continue on into the ground. The next curiosity is that carved into the obelisk in tight flowing script are hundreds of carefully formed elven runes. Getting closer and closer to the obelisk you can feel a headache building within you, like a wave slowly moving towards the shore. While no expert in such things, this is obviously the source of the anti-magic within the Great Hall. Furthermore, you’re unsure what consequences might occur if you were to interrupt the carefully formed flow of energy.
Peering down into the trapdoor next to Oswald you carefully begin to examine the stone obelisk and the stone inset pyramids as best you can. The first thing that becomes readily apparent is that obelisk itself is immovable. The portion that is above ground rises six feet from the un-worked dirt floor while it seems to continue on into the ground. The next curiosity is that carved into the obelisk into tight flowing script are hundreds of carefully formed elven runes. Thinking back to your years of study at the University of Ghaster you recall a particularly boring lecture concerning the history Talingarde pre-Cheliax expansion. You seem to vaguely remember the professor stating that the island was dotted with numerous elven ruins dating back to before their return to Golarion. While there is nothing specifically linking the obelisk to that time period, the inclusion of elven runes into the stonework suggests this may be one such remnant. In a way it does seem to make sense. If Branderscar had been purposely built around such a ruin, much the way that Matharyn had, it would be very effective as a defense against those who wield magic’s. That said, your study in the arcane also tells you that a field such as this could not affect a large area. Realistically it’s likely that it could only cover the area around the Great Hall. Anything more than that would make the power matrix unstable over such a long period of time
"Elvish runes... dating before the Chelaxian expansion... not unlike Matharyn... fascinating."
Flipping his hair back out of his field of vision, the half-elf strokes his chin in contemplation and upon further inspection of the obelisk, reverses his recommendation.
"It's doubtful the effects will follow us beyond this hall. I would suggest we shut the trap door and allow distance to be the antidote we imbibe for this sickness..."
Gliding from the room, Kaynen returns to the great hall and gestures to Grumblejack that he believes opening the other door to be in their next best interest.
"We have friends on the outside my dear. If we can escape free and clear, I'm sure we won't have to worry about simply surviving."
While the other are investigating the doodad, Barnabas will check out the contents of the storeroom next door. If it's locked, he'll work his magic to open it.
Oswald peers down into the droning room of magical suppression, his eyes watering while trying to trace the runes of the obelisk. A headache creeps behind his eyes before the former doctor stands upright and starts to stumble away from the trapdoor, "Yes, best to be away from this area. Magic that eats magic, very bad. We must go to the tower then be away from this vile place before they lock us in the tombs once more."
Kergh spends a while studying the guards and eventually picks one that matches his height and bulk a little. Then he straightens the body out and strips it to don the clothes with his armour.
Meanwhile Grumblejack can finish off the work. The monstrous ogre looks in a bad way. He asks the beast if it wants bandaging.
Then he heads down with the ogre. "It done Mikhail."
Seeing the way that Ethaniel looks, he goes up to him and shows him the ogre. "You got healing for Grumblejack? He fight good enough but falls if hit again."
Terribly wounded but still managing to stay on his feet somehow, Grumblejack watched as each of the forsaken picked over the contraband weapons found within the armory. Waiting until everyone has looked through the box, the orge pushed his large frame into the armory and reached towards the greatsword that sat abandoned and rusting. Letting his purloined longsword fall the ground with a ringing clang, Grumblejack picked up the larger sword and gave a toothy smile. Dis wull do da trick. He grunted, taking a tentative swing that nearly caused Ariana to duck. As he began to push his large body out of the room and head towards the sergeant’s office and supply room the orges eyes widened in a mixture of shock, fear and curiosity as he watched Ethaniel drink from a small glass vial and his wounds began to instantly heal. Pointing to his own grievous wounds the orge gestured with one massive hand towards the swordsman while nodding at Kergh’s words. Uf ya got summor uh dat, ah could use ut. Da little un’s cut me up pretty goods. Not waiting for a response and swaying on his feet like a priest of Cayden Cailean after Alefest, Grumblejack limped his way over to the door that Lorin had reported leading to the sergeants office, supply room and living quarters.
Opening the door beyond with a single strong push, the orge lead the way into the room while holding his greatsword at the ready to hack down the sergeant or any waiting guards inside. Instead of waiting guards however, the room contained a large wooden desk piled high with paperwork, two chairs in front of the desk and a single chair behind the desk as well as two final doors; one to the supply room and one to Sergeant Blackerly’s living quarters. Scooting forward, Barnabas moved towards the room that was supposed to be the supply room. Examining the locked door, the man merely shook his head in disgust before settling down next to it and unrolling the leather pouch holding his tools. After several moments Barnabas felt the familiar snick of the lock resetting. Raising to his feet the careful man quickly examined the door and finding no traps opened it.
After examining the paperwork scattered around the desk for about five minutes it becomes readily apparent that the sergeant is robbing the prison blind. Examining the ledgers and budget reports it looks as if Branderscar was originally intended to be staffed with nearly double the current amount of guards. On the pay slips it appears that they still are, but in fact a total of twenty four have been fired or transferred over the last two years. One falsified report shows the sergeant ordering replacement locks and manacles, but they were never delivered. A second ledger shows the profits taken in from the selling of prison supplies as well as the revenue from his nightly gambling sessions and liquor sales to the other guards. One item of interest is that the name Ventris is scribbled on the margins of the second ledger and there are several entries where the letter V is used to annotate a shipment.
Looking through the drawers and papers scattered around the desk your able to find this week’s guard rotation. It lists guard names, duty positions and times they are on watch. It also includes a list of how many guards are assigned to each location at different times, however none of this information is radically different then watch Lorin told you.
This poorly stocked room contains more empty space then supplies. A casual search reveals the following items.
The 'emergency rations' have become quite rotten. They could still be eaten, but there may be consequences.
Following the ogre again to keep him safe, Kergh notices the rations and shakes his head after a brief inspection. "Bad food. Make you ill. Grumblejack don't eat dat."
Barnabas fishes out another healing potion and tosses it to the ogre.
"Here you are Grumblejack, make it count."
Nosing about the storage room, he grabs and fills a bulleye lantern for later. Well, well, well. Looks like we've got enough oil here to cover our escape with fire.
"You sure these ration are no good Kherg? They don't look too bad to me."
Joining the other in the office, he pokes through the papers, pocketing the duty roster.
"And they call us criminals. From the look of things, the Sargent of this place has been skimming off the top of almost everything. It's pure robbery and the man isn't even trying to cover his tracks. Hey, the name Ventris mean anything to any of you?
Off the top of your head the name Ventris doesn’t ring any bells. It could be that you have never heard of the man, but considering how severely smuggling is punished in Talingard, Ventris whoever he or she is would have to have some real clout to unload as much material as the ledgers seem to indicate and have not gotten caught over the last two years.
Initially disappointed that no confrontation with Sergeant Blackerly awaits beyond the door, Kaynen comforts himself in the accuracy of his half elven ears in detecting no sounds beyond the portal.
He wastes no time pouring over the paperwork with Barnabas, stopping to admire the sergeant's accounting skills.
"Well my dear sergeant, you've suddenly proven yourself a much more admirable man with this creativity!"
As he observes Barnabas tucking away the roster, Kaynen picks a couple choice ledgers and tucks them away as well, hoping to find some use for them later, before turning to the rest of the room's contents.
The half-elf simply stops and stares at the copious barrels of oil, his first expression being one of shock and surprise - his mouth ajar. Slowly, very slowly, a smile creeps across his face as his thoughts turn to the flammability of their prison.
Kaynen cannot resist immediately grabbing a lantern and filling it with oil.
"No, I haven't heard of Ventris, but in case we meet him, we do now have these." Kaynen holds aloft the ledger, "for what it's worth."
"Now, where next shall we cause havoc for our former captors?" Kaynen wonders aloud, raising and then dripping excess oil from his overfull lantern on the floor.
"You look a bit better, Grumblejack. Yes?" Kherg slaps him on the back in a friendly way. Just to see how friendly he is.
Then he looks around at the others. "What now?"
Dripping a copious amount of oil across the floor, Kaynen leans into the last unopened door in the Great Hall. Pressing his ear against the door the half-elf listens for the sounds of motion beyond.
Meanwhile, Grumblejack catches the vial that Barnabas throws to him. Holding the tiny glass potion in his monstrous hands, the orge eyes the blue liquid questioningly. Raising the vial up, the orge shrugs before flicking the cork plug off with one dirty nail and pouring the contents into his toothy maw. As the magic begins to take effect the worse of Grumblejack’s injuries, including the massive laceration to his neck begin to knit together. Throwing the vial against a nearby wall the orge gives a tentative nod to misshapen priest. Grumblejack stull hurt, but nut as bad as before Kergh.. sum fod wuld be good.. you sur it bad? The orge states, standing a little straighter and seeming less fatigued but still half-starved.. Before we go, Grumblejack go back for pig.. smelled good.
Turning back to the group, Kaynen gives a slow smile to the others. I don’t hear any movement in the next room. The revolutionary states with a flourish of his hand gesturing like a conductor before opening the door to Tomas Blackerlys quarters. As the door opens and you step inside you see large room that is roughly twenty five by twenty feet in length. On the western wall is a large bed and against the southwest wall is an armoire. On the eastern wall is a small table with two chairs and on top of the table is a tin plate with some crumbs and a bit of cheese rind and on the northern wall is a standard padlocked guard chest like the ones that you have seen in the armory. One item of immediate interest as a brass and steel alarm bell that is mounted to the doorframe. It appears that it could only be set from inside of the room but it is currently disabled. It would seem, (and rightly so) that the sergeant is a bit paranoid.
Inside of the Guard Chest you find the following:
Opening the plain oak armoire reveals two sets of sergeant’s uniforms, a spare pair of large black boots and a simple traveler’s outfit that includes a leather belt, a pouch and a grey wool cloak. Resting at the bottom of the armoire is a half filled green glass bottle containing an unknown liquid that smells faintly of juniper and some sort of clove extract.
These are deepnight juniper berries and while extremely bitter, they are sometimes prescribed as a medicinal sleep aid. Typically two to three berries when ingested either whole or within a liquid will put an adult man into a deep sleep for six to eight hours.
Flipping over the goose feather mattress you find a hollow space underneath the oak bed frame. Within the hollow space there is a large (2’x1’x1’) lockbox that is reinforced with iron and has an inset lock of good quality . The box itself weights close to ninety pounds and when you initially pick it up you hear the sound of glass clinking against metal inside.
He leaves Grumblejack to his pigmeat and follows Kaynen. Kergh helps out as people begin to enter the room. As everyone checks out the chest and wooden armoire, the dwarf bounces on the soft bed. His bulk and lumpen back bend the middle and the corner posts tilt a little.
"Ugh. Summat sharp under here." He lifts off the goose down mattress and pulls out the lockbox, clinking with each pull.
"Look."
Oswald shuffles after the others as they burst into the vacant sergeant's room, peering about in disgust as this doesn't appear to be the beginnings of a tower. He gives the room a once over, sulking while the others uncover more liquor and other personal effects. The smell of juniper and clove makes Oswald twitch his nose as he heads over to go through some of the supplies. He holds up one berry while inhaling deeply, "Deepnight juniper berries. Yes, that is what they are. A very good source of sleep for those plagued by long nights and troubling dreams. Eat a few, drink a few, sleep for a night. Maybe eat many, drink many, sleep forever."
Oswald pockets a few of the berries as he shakes his head at the room, "This is not the tower. It is very important that we go to the tower. My poor, sweet Rosaline is being held there. Many things of value are being held hostage there. Yes, we must go soon."
"Well now what have you found Kergh? Now isn't that a fancy box. First piece of decent craftsmanship I've seen yet in this place. It looks like a pretty tough nut, but let's see if I can crack it."
Barnabas takes a knee beside the lockbox and starts running his hands along the seams, looking for any booby traps. With a frown of concentration, he begins to work on the lock. As the minutes pass, beads of sweat form on his forehead and his frown deepens to a grim scowl of determination.
Laying the hefty iron reinforced lockbox on the goose feather mattress, Barnabas begins to meticulously examine the container, hinges and lock-plate for any signs of tampering or traps. Several minutes later Barnabas gives a half-nod to himself. Finding nothing overtly dangerous the rogue begins his careful work of easing open the lock. Pausing several time’s Barnabas wipes the sweat off of his face before he gives a final tilt to his lock pick snapping the final spring into place. Slowly raising the lid of the chest, the rogue stops in mid opening. Tricky.. Barnabas mutters to himself, taking his purloined dagger and cutting a taunt string that is tied from the lid of the chest and connects to a bottle of alchemist’s fire.
Giving one final scan of the lockbox the ex-noble takes a single long breath letting the tension slide out of his shoulders before gesturing to Mikhail and the others that it is clear.
Crowding around the chest and inspecting the contents you find three small linen bags. Opening each of them you see the reflection of gold in the torchlight. The box also contains a single bottle of alchemist fire that was cleverly designed to activate if the box was smashed or forced open as well as a nondescript letter whose black wax seal has been broken and bears several postal stamps. It is addressed to one Tomas Blackerly in a tight, neat script with no return address.
Tomas,
You will have a guest joining you soon by the name B. W. During his stay I need you to ask him “politely” about his “other accounts” Don’t take no for an answer. I know this isn’t part of our usual business but we would consider it a personal favor.
-V
Based on the stamps, it appears as if this letter originated from the border-town of Farholde. You know that Farholde lies near the western border of the Caer Bryr and it acts as the westernmost seat of power for the nation of Talingarde. It’s not a particularly large town as far as most go, but it does have a large harbor and garrison . You also recall that the town was first settled by Iraen barbarians and was once called Casrhalla but it was razed to the ground during 4412 AR by Accarius the IV who built Farholde in its place.
Mikhail has been content til now to remain quiet, allowing the others to utilize their talents. As Barnabas reads the letter, Mikhail gives him a significant look but says nothing else. He takes the gold pieces and divides them into eight parts, handing an equal share to each person. "This will be instrumental to help re-establish ourselves. Escape alone cannot be our only goal. Alone, each of us was captured and brought here. Together, though, we will remain stronger. Not one of us could escape this place alone, and not one of us will remain free for long without the others." He faces all of them - even the halfwit ogre. "I will see to it that we all share in success. Who pledges their word here and now, as I do?"
"I have no one. I'll stay together. By the will of my Dark Prince."
Kherg pockets the 232 gold pieces in a rough made pouch that he attaches to his belt. The hefty weight swings between his legs uncomfortably as the dwarf lopes along.
He scratches at his armpit and flicks something crusty away. "Need devil's blood to heal normal people." He mutters not realising there may be an insult in his words.
"I suppose you are right about strength in numbers and unity," Ethaniel nods in agreement as he weighs the small pouch filled with money with both hands. Though he looks at it with interest, there is no sign of actual enthusiasm at finding himself with gold and rather suddenly at that. He then turns to Mikhail, a sense of trepidation still felt at having to deal with an apparent vampire. Still, he seems to have taken it upon himself to act as their de facto leader.
"If nothing else, both this Tomas Blackerly and the Warden should be dealt with before we leave this place." His tone is matter-of-fact, the thinking behind the words merely pragmatic rather than vengeful.
Barnabas looks up from reading the letter he found in the chest.
"I need Blackerly alive, if only for a short while. There are things I need to... discuss with him. He must tell me all about his good friend Ventris. The man seems to have an interest in certain...investments I've made and I feel I must meet him to discuss it in person. Does anybody recognized the postage on this letter, I've never really had a head for maps."
"Words are wind, but there is an advantage of working together in our escape and don't forget we are expected by our mysterious benefactor. I've an interest in meeting them, at the least."
"I hate to say it, but I think the easy part of the escape is over, I'm not sure how we can avoid or eliminate the guards patrolling the walls without sounding the alarm. There's no way we can disguise Kergh or Grumblejack enough to fool them. Maybe try to lure them in or bluff them into having a drugged drink? Thoughts?"
Kaynen continues to wear his smooth, assured smile like the chain shirt he borrowed from the Forsaken's captors throughout the continued planning. He expresses agreement in a united cause, and the value of the gold to that end, as well as his interest in meeting the lady who brought Barnabas the silken veil.
It is the discussion of matters concerning their escape that brings the half-elf's mind back to the task at hand and into the conversation.
"There are undoubtedly dogs," he offers as he raises the treats he palmed from the barracks, "and these, or something from the kitchen should serve us well in that battle..."
Clearing his throat, he brushes the detritus from his Branderscar uniform and inhales.
"Well then, we are dressed as guards of Branderscar and armed with knowledge, conviction and purpose. Shall we see what lays in wait for us in this courtyard?"
Clarifying his thinking, he adds, "I, of course, intend for those of us disguised as guards to take a first look before we parade out the conspicuous."
And oh, what a magnificent parade it would be with Grumblejack and Kergh leading our floats down the avenue...
"I can be guard like you. It just magic and that make me sick some." says the dwarf by the main doors.
Kergh wafts his hand over the holy symbol and begins a short chant to the Prince of Trickery. Gradually his back and shoulders begin to straighten and shrink a little.
Eventually Kherg matches the size and weight of the large guard he had measured. Then he giggles a little at the looks he gets. Finally spitting out, "one hour is all."
"Neat trick Kergh, that'll come in useful. Kaynen why don't you go do a walk about the courtyard, maybe use your treats to make some friends if you can find the kennels. One guard out and about would be less conspicuous than us all piling out there at once. If you run into any trouble just fall back inside."
Barnabas hands him the bottle from the armoire.
"Here, this stuff stinks like those sleeping berries that Oswald pointed out. If you find the kennels see if you can dose the dog's food with this. It might save us some trouble."
Kaynen gives Barnabas a look that would not be unusual if seen on a father who learns his son just graduated from Korvosa's Acadamae with highest honors.
"Blackerly's sleep aid. In the dog's meals. What a splendid idea!"
Kaynen gives a long thought to clasping Barnabas on the back, but remember he's not really fond of touching other men, and his hands just flit about awkwardly as he decides what to do with them.
In the end, he makes several exaggerated flourishes before sauntering through the rooms to the back door.
"I don't imagine it will take long. You're all welcome to watch with the door open, but a lone 'guard' taking a break shouldn't sound any significant alarms."
The half-elf, having read something about "adventuring sorts" in his academic youth, presses his half-elvish ears to the door to listen for the sounds of dogs, and then opens the portal.
"Ah, how very nice of you," Ethaniel quips. "A treat and a nap for man's best friend. With a bit of luck, we will be done with the dogs without any gratuitous killing of pets."
With his wound not bleeding anymore thanks to the healing potion he drank minutes earlier, Ethaniel stretches, testing the extent of the effect. "Still more than a little sore, he mutters. 'At least I am in no danger of bleeding out, I suppose. For now.'
As the others discuss plans for the future and sticking together, Grumblejack collects his two hundred some odd coins. While sharing is a bit of a new experience for the orge he quickly appreciates that the seven others could likely overpower him if they choose to do so and he smartly decides not to press his luck. Letting the others speak first the orge heads back with them to the great hall kitchen where the first of soon to be many victims (the roasting pig) fall to his greatsword. Stuffing his fanged maw full of the succulent pork the pig fat runs down the sides of the creatures mouth and chin. You Mmmfff un Omm Grumblejack Nomm put hurt un Nom little un’s. I stick wit u. The orge agrees wiping one hair hand across his mouth.
As the gastrointestinal horror is ongoing Kaynen listens for the sound of movement though the heavy wooden door but is unable to hear anything over the sound of Gumblejacks first meal. Hearing nothing suspicious he gives a final straightening to his guardsman tunic before opening the door beyond.
Stepping out of the great hall and into the inner courtyard the first thing you realize is that it’s cold. The giant kitchen fireplaces along with the thick stone and wood reinforced walls of the Great Hall are not merely for show. Letting your senses become accustomed to the night you hear the sound of waves crashing against rock and can smell the salt air in your nose. Off in the distance you can hear seagulls cawing. Taking a deep breath of the sea air you notice something. The slowly building headache you have felt rising in the back of your skull since you first attempted to cast daze is gone.
Taking a brief look around you are able to make out several structures around the area that continue to fit the general layout that was described by the traitorous guard Lorin Terrik. To your north is small wooden building built up against the wall that you were told was the kennels. To the southwest rising above the great hall is a tower thirty five or forty feet high that at the top has a window in-set with a glass. The window is currently open and you can make out light coming from the room.
Perched on the ledge of the tower window is an owl that occasionally ruffles his feathers while preening himself. He occasionally looks up towards the courtyard as if looking for mice before returning to cleaning himself.
Directly in front of you is a small garden. There are several rows of vegetation planted within black, rich, turned soil. Each of the rows is three to four feet high. The rows are high enough that a man crawling might be able to remain unseen but low enough that he would be visible if was standing. Beyond that is a perimeter wall. Evenly spaced around the walls are three round towers that are connected to the wall and inset into the base of each tower is a stout wooden door. On the wall segment closest to the north you can see a single guardsman slowly walking towards the south. He is carrying a bull’s-eye lantern and he periodically shines it down into the courtyard while patrolling the wall.
From the wall-tower closest to you on the south you can hear the sound of liquid hitting something metal the stream of liquid cuts off and then starts again before stopping once more. In the cold sea air your able to hear a man mumbling to himself about drinking too dammed much.
There is a small recently pruned bush separated from the others by a circle of bricks. Taking a second glance you realize that this bush is in fact Atropa belladonna or in layman’s terms a deadly nightshade. You know that distilled and consumed the plant can kill a grown man by sapping away his energy and strength.
Kaynen returns from his unassuming trip scouting the courtyard and informs the others of what he has seen.
"No dogs. At least, not yet. One guard to the north with a lantern. Then, a second guard to the south who seems to have been relieving himself from a little too much fun. Really, I'm not sure how Branderscar earned it's reputation with all of its guardians functioning so."
Kaynen continues, adding the details about the garden where the others could crouch and remain unseen if needed along with the light in the tower.
He gives the others a long look before he glancing back at the doorway leading to their freedom.
"We go and replace guards one by one and then rest come with Grumblejack. Sneaky ones best. I have one good healing spell.
Kherg scratches and slouches against a wall near the doorway watching out towards the man with a lantern.
"I don't know that we need to be too sneaky, we look pretty much like guards, especially in this light. I'm more concerned with them giving a yell and raising the alarm. Kaynen and I can go try to bluff the wall guards into thinking we're relieving them early and once they come in out of the cold, the rest out you can jump them."
Not wanting to waste the advantage of the drunken guard so close at hand, Barnabas boldly heads out into the cold and towards the guard tower Kaynen indicated, taking no pains to hide his progress. Once inside he head up in search of the inebriated guard and says upon finding him,
"Ho friend, miserable night to be stuck on the wall. I couldn't sleep and thought I would spell you bit early. Gregor and Irean are cooking up a storm, you should head into the kitchen and grab something warm to eat, before you freeze solid out here."
"Excellent idea, Barnabas!"
Grabbing a plate of the roasted pig, Kaynen sweeps himself back out into the garden and makes for the north tower with the sober guard. He looks over his shoulder to Barnabas heading to the south, and hopes the businessman's tongue is as honeyed as his own.
Given how solid of an aid Barnabas has been in their escape, Kaynen has little doubt that things will proceed exactly as planned.
Raising his hand to the northern guard carrying the lantern, Kaynen adds a little spring to his step to close the distance.
"Hail, there!"
Kaynen takes a bite of Irean's cooking and gestures with the plate.
"Better hurry to the kitchen before the pig's all gone. Lorin's on his third helping already. Perhaps you can fetch the boys from the gatehouse as well? Don't worry about me - I'm stuffed. I'll cover your post."
Boldly heading out of the great hall as if you’re just another pair guard out for a breath of fresh air you feel a shiver run through your spine from the cold sea air. As you both walk south towards the battlement from where Kaynen heard the sound of a lone guard you see another guard on the rampart thirty feet above you slowly walking towards the south end of the wall with a bulls-eye lantern examining the courtyard. Based on his current speed you estimate that it will be another five minutes or so until he reaches the southern tower before repeating the cycle.
Walking up towards the guard thirty feet above you while carrying a plate of steaming hot pig you see the gatehouse rising up to your left. On the very top of the gatehouse is another guard who has another bulls-eye lantern that is currently resting on the top of the gatehouse rampart. He’s has his guardsman’s cloak pulled tightly around him and looks cold. Shining the light briefly on you and the plate of food that is steaming in the cold the man gives a nod before walking to the northern most point.
Gerald! The guard yells shining his light to the freezing guard on top of the gatehouse to get his attention. Common, it’s time for chow. Grabbing up the bullseye lantern Gerald shutters it before giving a nod and yelling back. It’s about time! Any longer up there any I thought my small bits were going to fall off. Remind me not to piss off the sergeant next time I complain about standing watch!
It’s likely that guard on top of the Gatehouse will enter the Great Hall though the main door rather than through the kitchen. The lack of guards inside of the Great Hall entrance combined with the blood splatters on the wall will probably trigger an alarm. The other two guards that are currently stationed on the eastern wall however will likely enter through the kitchen due to the proximity
Pulling open the hefty wooden door you slip into the bottom floor of the battlement tower. Inside of the old dusty room on the western wall is wooden ladder leaning against one wall that connects to a trapdoor on the roof of the room. On the southern end of the wall is a bench that is affixed to the wall with two unoccupied ovals from which you can hear the sound of waves echoing. Sitting on the bench with his pants unfastened around his feet is a brown haired guardsman. He had his chain mail hiked up and he his sitting on what you assume must be a third oval while his weapon and shield lean up against the wall and outside of his immediate reach.
Hey! I’m taking ah crap, get the hell out un wait your turn mate. The guardsman slurs, barely looking up. Then hearing the mention of food the man perks up a bit. Gimma a second.. I’ll be right out.. and close the door behind you. It’s cold enough with the sea spray tickling mah arse. Shaking his head the man goes back to his business.
Perched on the ledge of the tower window is an owl that occasionally ruffles his feathers while preening himself. He occasionally looks up towards the courtyard as if looking for mice before returning to cleaning himself.
There is a small recently pruned bush next to the garden separated from the other vegetation by a circle of bricks. Taking a second glance you realize that this bush is in fact Atropa belladonna or in layman’s terms a deadly nightshade. You know that distilled and consumed the plant can kill a grown man by sapping away his energy and strength.
"Mmrmph."
Kaynen lifts a fork.
"So good."
Nodding towards the main building, Kaynen takes the steps up the guard's old perch and wonders what the two men will think of the surprise that awaits them
Once in the guard's former position, he scans the battlements for other guards and defenses.
As the two men begin putting their plan of deceipt into action, Ethaniel, also clad in a guard's uniform, moves to take his place in the great hall, his posture relaxed as if he belongs there. Not wishing to engage a foe in close combat due to his injury, he keeps his distance from the main entrance and brings to mind a simple dazing cantrip, preferring this time to let whoever else joins him deal with those that enter in a more direct manner.
Even from a relatively safe distance, the magus can feel the anticipation within himself. Having fought his first real battles, he has found that the challenge appeals to him despite the potential consequences.
Oswald listens to Mikhail's words and bobs his head in agreement every other sentence, "Yes, yes. Together we make them pay, divided we die. Once I rescue my poor, sweet Rosaline, we will follow you into the very maw of Hell if need be, dragging as many as those two-tongued vipers that call themselves Mitrans with us as we can. They all deserve an eternity in a pit of fire and sharp pointy objects for cleaving me from my loved ones. Oblivion is too good for them!" The former doctor's eyes cloud over as he foams a little around his mouth when his fury grows too strong.
When he calms down a moment later, Oswald takes up a guard's outfit and starts stuffing himself into it. The garment hangs loose on his frame which is thinner from malnourishment compared to the more robust guard who owned the outfit. He makes a vague motion back in the direction of the second story stairs and the cells above with one hand half in a sleeve as he speaks to the others, "If we do truly plan to burn all traces of ourselves from this place, best we make sure there are the same number of bodies locked in the cell above. A female corpse and several male bodies with the flesh burnt beyond recognition and they will think we died here. Grumblejack's cell we leave open and let them think it's the ogre's work for the fire to follow and if any vanished employees of this vile place don't return or have their bodies recovered. Yes, that would be the smart thing to do."
After Kaynen and Barnabas slip out into the cold, Oswald mumbles to himself while taking a position lounging near the doorway leading outside. His grip upon the burrowed club tightens as he wrings his hands back and forth on its wooden length. The doctor keeps glancing off in random directions while he waits, whispering under his breath, "Soon my dear Rosaline, soon. Yes, I will save you and then we'll go find your mother and brother. A happy family once more, yes."
An owl hmmm? Seems a bit of an unusual roost.
"Whoa, sorry mate. Best finish up, before something important freezes off."
Barnabas steps back out, waiting for the guard to finish up.