Moving as quietly as she can Siobhán scans the corridors carefully, knowing that she has the best chance of spotting anything. As she notices how close Healaugh stays a small, thankful, if a little confused, smile comes to her lips.
The group moves furtively out into the corridor, which they can see is much better appointed than the one they have just left. Tresmeer heads to the door opposite and to the right; he doesn't see or hear anything suspicious.
"Queen's Room be straight ahead and to left m'thinking. That be right Coinneach?"
Staying close to Siobhan, Healaugh looks at the old man for confirmation.
EDITED: Because neither Healaugh nor I can tell right from left. Which is why I usually point at things.
Brand sticks with Ynyr as they slink down the corridor looking for the first door on the left.
Ynyr moves quietly along the corridor with his entourage to what he hopes is the Queen's room. If he gets there safely, and if no-one else wants to do so before him he tries to detect if there is anything going on behind the first door on the left.
Listen at (what I hope is) the Queen's room door. (1d20=14)
His heart seems to be beating so loud - he is quite frightened if the truth be told - Ynyr is not too sure whether or not he can hear anything else. But he concentrates...
Tresmeer starts off down the other corridor, checking doors into the servants quarters and the book room. He will quietly enter and search around for food (sorry anything valuable) as he goes.
As he nears the far end of the corridor, he will move very slowly listening carefully for pucha.
Tresmeer lets Siobhan and Melisana know as he goes off, "oim jess 'avin' me look down dis way."
Ynyr and Brand head towards the first door on the left. As they get nearer they can see that it is slightly ajar. Ynyr hears the sound of low muttered conversation.
"Tresmeer!" Siobhán calls out in a whisper after the shepherd as he starts to move away from the group. "We should all stay together" She adds as she follows and grabs hold of his wrist in an attempt to stop his progress down the corridor.
Ynyr stops as soon as it is obvious that the door is ajar and tries to make sure he can't be seen by anyone inside. Meanwhile he tries to make out how many voices he can hear and whether they are vioces of small people or voices of larger people.
Do they sound as if they are arguing? or simply discussing things?
He looks towards Brand and indicates that he hears something. He raises his eyebrows in an attempt to signal: "Now, what should we do now, do you think?" but, of course, he says nothing.
The group sounds as though it is discussing something in an animated manner. You can't understand it though.
"Tresmeer!" Siobhán calls out in a whisper after the shepherd as he starts to move away from the group. "We should all stay together" She adds as she follows and grabs hold of his wrist in an attempt to stop his progress down the corridor.
"Doan Eee worry none. Baint goin' far." Tresmeer smiles and his tummy gurgles again.
"Kitchen be jess round der corner." He pats her hand and lifts it off then carries on with his stubborn searching.
"Jess call me if'n I be needed. Baint much use anywho."
"Tha daft beggar Tresmeer. Come back an' stop fretting our Siobhan. Tha know she'll not rest easy if'n we wander off. Proper sheepdog she be."
Shaking his head, Healaugh keeps his voice low and looks on appreciatively at the typical behaviour of his friends.
"Anyroad, reckon our Ynyr's found awt. Best come now."
Brand tenses, this is the moment he has feared. If I fail to win the room as I failed my father all these people will DIE! what to do? what to do? Brand motions everyone back through the door towards the servants wing and moves stealthily back. He then whispers to Ynryr "Can ye see how many?" gesturing towards Conall to come up. Then his visage hardens with a grim determination. "The scum'll pay.."
Dagger in hand Conall makes his way quietly up to where Bran is.
Move Silently (1d20+1=11)
"I'm happy to follow your lead in combat man. Hope it doesn't come to it though.. The aggressive tend to fall easily. Our concern is to keep people safe and serve the goddess' will here."
Ynyr turns to Brand, noting his nervousness (relieved that he isn't the only one to be scared).
[sotto voce]
"I dare not look in lest they see me you know? Can I count them? No, but there are more than two don't you think? I think we should let the other know, no? Then I say we trust to fate and get them."
He looks at his club with distaste and lays his hand on his dagger trying to look brave.
Tresmeer continues searching the library and the rooms on the other side, mumbling to himself.
"Make too much noise mebbe best I be out dere way fur them. Them pooka un yrch not fall like storm un dem all. Little Torwalker be a mite clumsy fur safe walkin' with dem."
"Gurt numpty" mutters Healaugh under his breath.
"No arguing wi' some folk, eh Siobhan?"
Seeing the half-elf's worried expression, he tentatively pats her arm.
"Don't fret self. Our Tresmeer's safe enough I reckon. We can stay here, between groups. Keep eye on both like, if'n that makes tha feel better."
Bran quietly turns to the others "Maybe they're the smaller pooka-scum and we can just overpower them long enough for the others to ta' be doin some searchin" He looks unsure of which course to follow, further darkening the lines around his eyes, giving him a hollow corpse-like look in the dimness.
Siobhán stands between the two seperated groups with a worried look etched on her young face. Slowly she looks down at Healaugh and gives a weak smile. "Thanks, I guess it was foolish of me to expect him to listen.." She replies in a sad whisper.
Tresmeer heads down the corridor investigating the rooms down it. The first door on the left opens into what was once a study with the moldy remains of a rug on the floor, three smashed desks and two ruined tables. A moldy tapestry hangs on the wall opposite the door.
What will the rest of fortune's favourites do?
"Stubborn as his own sheep. Never fret lass, he'll join us soon enough I'm reckoning. Best go to others, eh? Happen they'll be needing help."
Healaugh pats Siobhan's arm soothingly and moves quietly down the hall to the party outside the door with voices. On his way, he hefts one of his spears and hopes he won't have to use it.
Once Siobhán and Healaugh have joined them, Ynyr looks expectantly at Bran and Conall.
[quietly]
"Do you not think we should do the deed now? Is it not better we meet them in there than in the corridor where we could be seen by any number of their nasty companions? Where is Melisana? Could she help us or is she better looking after Coinneach? Or perhaps they should both be looking after Tresmeer, no?"
Melisana looks quizzically and taps Ynyr on the shoulder, "I'm right here, Master Treiglwyr. Shouldn't we either hide or try to get the jump on these fiends? I'm not sure how much help I'd be, but surely it would be better to do something rather than nothing?"
Brand looks stoic as he proclaims softly "Well, I guess the time has come, then I'll go in first, then any other persons that feel they can hold up in a fight, then maybe those with distance weapons can watch for trouble and pick off any stragglers. If we have to flee do we go back and hold that door?" he asks gesturing to the doorway to the queen's part of the manor. "Or do we make a run for the boat?...it's best to know these things before we start." his voice drops to a hoarse hiss with the last uttered syllabel.
"Going to boat wi'out Queen's magic stick ud' be waste. Brigid-lass reckoned on us needing it." Healaugh whispers stubbornly.
"Can pick off any as tries running though." he adds with some satisfaction, touching his curtain sling for luck. "Let's be doing."
"Very well. Let's go."
Ynyr is scared witless, but is even more scared of being caught out here having tried to do nothing. If he is going to die, he will die trying. He will assume that he is going in after Bran and Conall, unless someone gets there first. He is not really in a mood to push...
"I'm ready when you are Bran." The older man speaks quietly. Hopefully this would go better than the last fight he'd gotten involved with. Still at least this time he had steel rather than a plank. Even if it was only a short blade.
Bran moves furtively to the door opens it a crack as quietly as possible axe at the ready.
Opening the door a fraction more, and doing so almost silently, Brand can see a small gaggle of pucha Fhoi Myore handling a small stick of wood that has been painted red. They are talking quietly and excitedly to one another.
Tresmeer leaves the wreckage, more confident that Conneach's map is accurate. He briefly checks back west to the party to see if they are in trouble and then bobs into the room opposite.
If anyone at the back notices his movement, the moorwalker waves to show that everything is fine.
Brand leaps thru the door and strikes the pucha-Fhoi Myore that's holding the stick.
Attack roll and damage (+2 to attack if charge is applicable) (1d20+5=15, 1d8+3=11)
Brand surges into the room, frightening the life out of the small band of sea demons! Charging up to them, he tears into the group, downing one before it has a chance to do anything. It drops the stick, and the others start fumbling for their weapons.
"Pucha-scum. I hates them."
Healaugh is almost spitting in outrage as he readies his spear.
EDIT
Caught by surprise as Bran launches himself into the room Siobhán watches a little helplessly, trying to keep an eye both on the group ahead and on the wandering Tresmeer.
Here we go again! With a small shrug Conall followed the other man into the room, and because the world seemed to be that way, into the fray as well.
To hit (1d20+3=12)
Damage Dagger (1d4+1=2) on the off chance that hits
Grunting, Ynyr charges in behind Brand and Connall and attacks whichever pucha thing the others haven't yet with his club:
Hitting with a club (and damage) (1d20=15, 1d6=3)
After swinging wildly, he takes a look at his attackee to see if he hit - being wary to jump back if he has to.
Taking the dastardly pirates by surprise the 3 men burst in and knock 3 of them unconscious. One remains and he looks at his wounded fellows and says brokenly, "Sah-ren-dar!"
Ynyr looks at his fallen foe for a bit and then it sinks in what the other has just said.
"What did he say? Now then is it right that he should surrender? What is it we do now?"
He looks helplessly at the others.
"Good work lads. Best pick up bit of stick then. Before pucha-scum gets other ideas like."
Healaugh is unable to resist kicking the surrendering goblin and growling at it.
The pucha squawks in pain and outrage as the halfling gives him a swift kick. "Ay Ser-ren-dar!" he squeaks, hopping, and dropping his spear.
Brand, surprised by the ease of the assault, casts an eye about the room for something to bind the Pucha-scum that still live. Though it's not totally obvious, his hands are shaking a bit on the haft of his axe.
"Be taking that then."
Healaugh picks up the spear.
Balancing the spear carefully, he leans in towards the goblin.
"Best speak up now. Afore I lose balance and hurts tha. Tell us more about this red stick. And no screaming. Ears won't stand it and spear could slip."
Siobhán makes a small suprised and sad sound at hearing the pucha squawk in pain. Casting one last look over in Tresmeer's direction to make sure he's still alright she steps forward and into the room with the others. Tucking her hair behind her ears she kneels in front of the creature with a gentle smile.
"I'm Siobhán" She introduces herself slowly and clearly "Who are you? and can you tall me anything about the stick?" She asks, hoping to open more friendly communications with the pucha, the more information the better in this situation.
The halflings actions brought a grim expression to Conall's face. Speaking softly he struggled to find the right words. "Healaugh... Do not torture the creature. Nothing deserves that.. Do not kick it again unless you are prepared to fight it in fair combat."
"Aye. Happen you're right. I'll fight it." snaps the halfling.
Healaugh's fists bunch and for a moment it looks as if he may pull the pucha to it's feet and thump it. Then he turns away, shrugging is distaste.
"Nay. I'll not waste mesen on filthy pirate. Tis disrespecting our Brigid-lass brings out worst in me. M'peaceful like, but can't be doing wi' pucha scum. Makes me see red."
Half ashamed, Healaugh moves into the room, taking his despised spear with him. Over his shoulder he adds.
"Best keep any more of them out of me sight. Might not be feeling forgiving come day's end. Tha' knows I tends to act wi'out thinking anyroad. Try not to do that. Don't seem to work."
Tresmeer enters and searches.
Then he will move further down the corridor towards the kitchen room and listen.
Ynyr turns to Healaugh with understanding expression.
"Now isn't it that I know how you feel yes? I like them no more than you do, you know? It may be technically a bad action to kick the nasty, but had you not, I most likely would have. So you'll not be chastising yourself too much will you?"
He takes the opportunity, while Siobhán is interrogating the nasty, to have a look around the room.
Search check for the room. (1d20 2=8)
The pucha looks at Siobhan in puzzlement as she talks quite reasonably after the halfling has kicked him in the shin.
He eyes widen as he regards the half-elf and gibbers "Alfar! Lios alfar! Ai!"
"Always hated pirates. Most fisherfolk do." Healaugh confides to Ynyr. He pauses and adds "Not right mebbe stooping low as them. Brigid-lass might not be liking that."
Reaching the far corner, near the kitchen, Tresmeer listens then peeps round to see if any yrch are blocking his route to the kitchen.