"No, I suppose not. No reason to risk yourselves without benefit."
Let's just hope they don't use divination against us. Then it wouldn't matter whether we ran or stayed, they'd find us the same. Ventus sighs. I'd suggest faking our own deaths, but seems like it would be equally easy for them to see through that trickery.
"Not a lot of diviners working with the Hellknights. They sometimes employ them for really high priority information, but that's expensive and their budget isn't what it used to be. Lucky for us, we don't warrant that kind of attention. Not yet, at least."
"Does anyone besides me have friends or family in the city?"
"I know no one here. But I will not run away. I promised aid and will give it."
The closest friends I have here are wanted men in their own right--freedom fighters, revolutionaries, heretics, and I don't doubt they'll keep to the shadows as they always have. Didn't confide in many that saw only my respectable face as a humble apothecarist, though. I don't think any of them were especially loyal, but not especially disloyal either. I suppose it would be safer for them if I was seen to leave the city. The Hellknights probably wouldn't believe they didn't know me well other than my work. Ventus finally agrees. What's the plan? How are going to show ourselves without giving the Hellknights enough notice to catch up? And how are we getting back without being noticed?
Ventus thumbs through his spellbook idly. Give me until morning to rest, and I could prepare an Imago Tacitus spell--that is, an illusion which mimics the image of anything I can imagine, though not the sound. It might prove useful in our escape--me, that is, and I assume, Cillian, and anyone else who needs to protect their acquaintances, friends, or family.
Cillian's brows raise. "Really? With that, we might not even need to go over the wall ourselves. An illusion of us running into the woods would be just as effective. How far is the range? How convincing is it?"
It has a range of 440 feet and is perfectly convincing to those whose wills I can overpower. Therein lies its weakness. Get 10 sets of eyes looking at it, and sheer probability means someone will see through it and alert the others. But against one or two watchmen, it would be it would stand a good chance of working. Ventus explains, his book open to the page on Silent Image.
Illusions can be moved around in the entire range of the spell, unless you want to change the rules.
Illusions in Pathfinder use exactly the same rules as 3.5, and as such rules questions about them on the messageboards are regularly pointed to this page, which is Part 1, and also Parts 2-4 of the same series.
The bit you want states:
The spell's area, target, or effect entry.
This entry determines how you can aim the spell and where whatever you create with it can go after the spell takes effect. Many illusion spells produce images that can't move (or move very far), which limits the sorts of things the caster can do with the spell.
But, I guess you can rule it how you like.
ooc]Sure, that makes sense :)[/ooc]
"How's this for an amendment to the plan: There's a few buildings near the wall that are actually taller than it is. We get on top of one, and use your illusion to show us sneaking over the wall and heading into the woods. As long as one of the wall rovers spots it and buys it, we'll be two days ahead of schedule."
Beorn nods. I like this plan much better.
All right, that's settled then. Ventus closes his spellbook to punctuate his words. Tomorrow after sleep and an hour of consulting my spellbook, I will have the spell prepared. The spell only lasts as long as I am concentrating on it, so I will need someone else to act as lookout while I focus my energy on making the illusion. In the meantime, there's not much we can do but finalize our plans and, as far as possible, relax.
"Sounds good. We kill time here until then. Feel free to wander the warehouse. Just don't go outside. They'll be looking for us, and word will be starting to spread that we escaped. Any two bit urchin who needs coin will be looking to sell us out to the watch."
That's sense, but my throat is so dry. You say there is a pub just next door?
"Make sure you leave Harzhen out of your spell since they now think he is caught again."
"Yeah. And a lot of prying eyes." Cillian says. "The bartender is an information broker. Good when you need to know something. Bad when you want people not to know things."
"I have a small stockpile in the basement." he says, pointing to an old rusting storage container that had been tipped on it's side. "The hatch is in there. Just open up the door on the floor. Take that lantern, mind the water."
They think Harzhen is caught? Why? He's right here. Ventus's face falls as comprehension dawns, and he turns to Harzhen. That person you all said was being whipped outside... he wasn't a tiefling, was he? If they think he is you, isn't that even more reason to include you in my illusion? To clear an innocent man?
"Good point. It might not matter for that fellow, but I think it should include all of us."
Beorn looks hopeful, takes the lantern, and goes to check the larder.
"Yes, include me. If there's a chance we can save that poor bastard from further pain, I'm happy to have them think me free."
As the reddened sun slowly falls from the sky, common folk retreat into their homes. Guards come out in full force and patrol the streets. All is quiet, except for the guttural chants of a military training exercise on the Western Piers. A few stars brighten the darkening city-it is your time to strike.
Cillian had told them to split up and take different routes toward their destination. The streets were full of people heading home for the night, so a few more blended in fine. Getting there wasn't the dangerous part.
The area Cillian had in mind had a few buildings at the edge of the city that were taller than the surrounding wall. He pointed a few of them out to Ventus.
"That church spire is tall enough. Going up the outside would be a hard climb, but not impossible with some rope. Another option would be to have someone go inside to distract the priest while you slip in and go up the bell tower stairs."
"That tall building over there is some kind of textile factory. That metal lattice coming out of the roof is supposed to protect the factory in case of storms or something. I have no idea how it works. Getting up the building would be pretty easy. Up the metal frame would be harder, but it's the tallest thing around here."
"Last option that I can think of is to go up one of the Stavian Arches closer to the river."
Geoffrey goes his own way through the busy afternoon streets. Trying to remain anonymous, still people seem to look at him as if he didn't belong. "Sorry," he said, bumping past an elderly man and almost knocking him down in the distraction. Geoffrey helped him regain his balance, the old man's grip on his forearms surprisingly strong, most like a warrior in his young age. "Careful boy," the man said before he continued on his way. Geoffrey frowned, rubbing his wrists and turning down another street.
He could see the wall several blocks away, the meeting place wouldn't be far away. The faces of people he passed on the streets held no joy, rarely did he see even a hint of a smile. He knew there was always sadness even in the most peaceful and lawful cities, but a city without hope? He did not think it was possible. Yes it is worse than most places, but there is good here, there has to be. You need to search harder...
After deliberating, Ventus settles on the dark grand church of Asmodeus, with its stonework, flying buttresses, gargoyles, and balconies which he think seems the best for climbing, in addition to providing emergency cover. I'll climb. I'm not afraid of heights, he says confidently. An hour or two before sunset, he arrives at the church in a grey cloak and sneaks over to the darker side of the church, hoping his cloak will more or less blend with the stonework and make him possible to miss if only given a casual glance.
He reaches into his bag and pulls out a length of knotted rope and grappling hook he'd found in the warehouse. With a swing, the hook latches onto the edge of a balcony. He gives it a few tugs to make sure it is secure, and then begins his ascent. The going is slow but steady, thanks to Ventus's light frame, the knotted rope, and the wall to brace against. It takes three stops--a balcony, a gargoyle, a precarious ledge) to pull himself up, rest for a few minutes, wipe sweat from his brow, and throw the hook once more--but he finally heaves himself into the bell tower, panting, trying to decide if he is high enough to cast his illusion or if he needs to make another 20-30 feet climb up to the spire.
Ventus clambers up easily.
Ventus wipes his brow on the sleeve of his cloak and surveys the scene. Just as Cillian pointed out, there are woods starting just a few hundred feet away from the wall, just within range of his spell. About 50 feet from the wall, he spots a clump of bushes 6 people could plausibly be crouching in and mutters Imago tacitus while holding his holy symbol. Arcane magic pulses through the silver symbol and makes it grow warm to Ventus' touch. 6 figures appear crouched behind the bushes in the uniforms and armor they stole: two humans, an aasimar, a hobgoblin, a sylph, and a tiefling. He sends them out all 6 at once, since the illusion doesn't allow much splitting up. Trying to time it so they set off where a patrol could see them in their peripheral vision, they sneak toward the forest. Gotta make it look believable. We wouldn't have just ran out in open daylight, so the illusion can't either.
After naught but a minute you all can hear shouts. Silhouettes of roughly twenty soldiers jog across the wall, pointing and yelling.
"Aye, there's the runaway prisoners! And the tiefling somehow escaped? Tom, go tell the jail-guards!"
"There ain't nothin' there!
"Shut up, Tom, I see 'em too!
"Tom, you're a damn fool."
"Tom, you got the eyes of a minotaur with cataracts."
One figure is clonked on the head and shoved away.
A look of satisfaction on his face, Ventus causes the illusions of the escapees to run to the forest now
Cillian couldn't see over the wall from where he was at the mouth of a nearby ally, but he could hear the commotion. He smiled in spite of himself.
Beorn, dressed to blend in, follows the wizard at a safe distance. He is forced to leave his greatsword behind and rely on the much more concealable longsword. He might need backup. I'll be ready. he thinks to himself. He watches the wizard's throw of the grapple with satisfaction and smiles as the man struggles to climb. He climbs better than most wizards. he thinks to himself. He looses sight of the wizard as he climbs but waits hidden where he can see the knotted rope.
More guards cry out at the sight, and those on the street can see a squad jog towards the tower. Their leader carries a large pair of shears, and another carries a heavy weight.
Beorn pushes farther into the shadows and watches the guards pass at a distance, wondering what they are up to.
Cillian just smiles.
This is definitely better than my original plan.
The guards begin to cut the rope up the middle with the shears. A few move into the clock tower, standing in the doorway.
Their leader yells "We can see you up there! Come down or face consequence." He mutters "We've got enough to deal with already, what with the escapees.."
Was afraid of that. They've seen the wizard. Damn. Now I know what the shear is for, but what is the weight for?
The leader ties the cut rope around the weight and lets go. This snaps the rope-with a thud, the weight lands on the ground, the rope with it. Suddenly a purplish hand rests on a guard's shoulder. Good work. I'm going into the forest to kill the prisoners. It was a shame I had to spend so much time with them. I'll enjoy slitting their throats. Harhzen ducks away into the night, with a flourish of his scaly tail.
Cillian's mind raced. Was it a con? What's Harzen's game? What the hell is going on?
He pulled his scarf up to hide most of his face and tensed, ready to move.