Fiordelise isn't concentrating too much on her playing, but she'll try and use the noise to distract the men and get chance to speak to the ladies.
"Do any of you have any idea what's going on? I feel like I'm a little over my head."
"That remains to be seen. Another sylph, carrying a cane, walked through here. Where is he?"
Byron waits for the answer to Odebie's question, continuing to do his best to seem threatening.
Before the ifrit had finished his sentence Odebie had hefted his hammer and stepped over his cowering form, running for the end of the hallway.
"You're right of course, this just feels a little like a cage to me - you know how I get when I'm cooped up." Fiordelise smiles at Isabella.
Byron trusted the ifrit behind them about as much as he trusted a bomb he'd just mixed not to go off in his hand if he just held on to it, but Osric's life was in the balance here.
He stooped down and grabbed the ifrit's dagger then ran to follow Odebie.
All the other occupants of the room--two crony guards, and three noblewomen--look around helplessly, searching for help.
One of the v'Ricci sisters whispers, "What was that?"
After you enter the small room (in whatever manner to choose), you see Osric with a garrote around his neck. He has managed to slip some fingers from his left hand between the cord and his neck, but judging from his blue lips he is close to passing out from oxygen deprivation. An oread with a heavily scarred face holds the garrote, and does not seem to notice you. There is a closed door on the far side of the room.
Hefting his hammer and flipping it spiky-end forwards, Odebie charges the scarred oread with nary a word and levels a blow at his face.
Byron, just behind Odebie, decides that he'll let the guard do the heavy fighting, and instead maneuvers to flank the oread thug, holding his dagger in one hand and pulling out a vial in the other.
"I'd prefer not to blow up this operation... actually no I'd rather like to but I unlike you am not the killing sort so perhaps we'll let you go first," Byron states as he lifts his vial suggestively.
Fiordelise snaps to attention and pushes the piano back as she gets to her feet, "There's a trapdoor under the Piano, get down there." here's hoping it's not locked.
Letting the others go first in case something comes through before everyone's down she glances around at the walls, and if there's a suitable breastplate (or other armour she can grab quickly and doesn't take forever to strap into) she'll grab it off the wall (no time to strap it on now, but if we can get down the trapdoor we might have a few minutes).
If everyone else gets down the trapdoor, she'll drop any armour she's picked down, pull the piano back into place and climb down herself.
If the trapdoor doesn't open she'll stand to one side of the door, weapon ready and tell the others to see if they can try the other way door.
You hear yells and scuffling footsteps beyond the door across the room.
The trapdoor opens, and your shocked companions simply follow your directions without question. Nerro (or is he Renno?) bolts the trapdoor securely shut from below, while the other guard helps you don your armor.
Isabella asks you, in a shrill voice, "What the Volc is going on up there, Fi?"
"They're not going to get here in time." He raises his hammer high and brings it down on the oread's head.
"Also they'll discover the wonders of combustion as soon as they come through that door," Byron states.
Byron's bomb hits one of the oreads clean in the face, and the other two are also caught in the explosion. The one that was directly hit, along with one of his companions, charge at Byron in a rage.
"Filthy sylphy!" The oread with fresh burns on his face misses entirely, his axe going wide. The other one, slightly more composed, leaves a wound in Byron's shoulder
"I wish I knew, but someone seems to want us. Now, quiet down - we don't want to them to hear us."
Fiordelise takes a look around at her surroundings, is this just a hidey-hole or does it lead somewhere?
If it's just a hidey-hole and there's nothing interesting (or if it's too dark to see) Fiordelise will strain her ears to try and hear what's going on above.
Byron stumbles back, gritting his teeth against the pain. As he does, he pulls one last vial out, mixing his final bomb and throwing it at the less-injured of the two oread attacking him.
Narrowed eyes and another burst of movement put Odebie next to the more-controlled Oread and his hammer on a collision course with his face.
Above, you hear some stomping and crashing as the safe room is apparently being searched, or looted.
Odebie's hammer-blow knocks the wind out of the remaining oread. He takes a moment to recover, and a moment of clarity flashes in his eyes. Defending himself with his sword, he reaches back with his other hand and slams the door shut behind him with resounding thud. There is a smaller clank a second later.
The remaining oread says, with a cunning look, "Ukuthula. I surrender." He drops his sword.
"We should keep moving, quiet now, sounds like they're tearing the room apart above. If the steel door didn't hold them the trapdoor won't delay them long.", speaking a low calm voice, barely over a whisper.
Fiordelise doesn't wait for a response and leads the way
Snarling, Odebie reverses the hammer and hits the oread in the head.
"We might be able to ask some questions before you..." Byron stops as he sees he's too late.
After a minute or two of walking, you come to a T-intersection. At the intersection, there is an abrupt shift in the makeup of the stone. You are no engineer, but it is obvious that the hallway you are leaving is newer, cleaner, and the part you are entering now is old, stained, and cracked.
There is a closed (and locked, if you check) steel gate immediately to your left, and a sturdy-looking wooden door about twenty feet to your right.
The wooden door on the far side of the room appears to be bolted shut.
Osric shakes his head vigorously. "Mind filling me in on what the volc just happened? Last thing I remember is that terrible coffee."
"An attempted murder, though 'Why' lies beyond this door. Can any of you open it, or should I break it down?"
"Well I have some knowledge of how to open locks but I don't actually have any tools with me maybe this fellow has a key?" Byron rambles, starting to pat the oread down.
Fi will try and work out if she knows where under/in the stadium she is and if either route will take them out of the Stadium grounds. Though she won't pause long.
"I didn't find anything so thank you Osric," Byron says as he accepts Osric's tools.
He fiddles for a bit with the lock.
Fiordelise glances at their escort, assuming they'll pipe up if they have a key for the gate, before heading towards the door.
Fiordelise opens the sturdy wooden door. It is unlocked.
Byron hears a click as he picks the lock of his own wooden door.
Almost simultaneously, Fiordelise and Byron see each other opening doors across a large stone room. Inside is a jumble of steaming glassware and colorful reagents that can only be part of an alchemist's lab.
There are two sylphs in the room. One is dead, eyes staring up toward the ceiling. The other is absentmindedly tweaking burners and valves, humming to himself.
Fiordelise shoots Byron a questioning look as she moves towards the working sylph. "Would you mind explaining what's going on here." her voice edged with anger.
Without looking up, the sylph says, "Umm, I would not recommend stepping too close. I guess those brutish fellows are dead, but there are several traps in here for the unwary and foolhardy."
He continues working, adding a few drops of a green liquid into a round flask.
"And I suppose that tossing a bomb into your equipment would also result in unpleasant consequences for us as well as you is that so?" Byron manages to make his usual breathless chatter sound icy. "I suppose with a projectile I could be somewhat more accurate let's see what do you have around you that would be unpleasant if it shattered..."
"Hm. I defer to your expertise Byron, I'd rather not see this overcomplicated teakettle burn the stadium down."
"Perhaps you could explain the why and how of what you're doing here?"
Fiordelise tries to distract the sylph while examining the area in front of her for any traps as she slowly and carefully tries to take a few steps closer.
The sylph shrugs. "Your alchemist friend there could, umm, likely tell you the 'how'. The 'why' isn't very interesting." Looking almost bored, he stabs a large syringe into the chest of sylph corpse.
"Personally I think he's probably just stalling for time I'm inclined to say you should just your hammer at his head but I suppose you probably want it back later," Byron babbled as he examined the room a bit more closely.
The penny finally drops as he stabs the sylph with the syringe. "That is sick!" she near screams at him, and grabs... something within reach and hurls at him.
Fiordelise hurls a flimsy wooden box, about the size of an elen's head. It smashes into an empty flask, which shatters on the stone floor.
The sylph recoils at the noise. He looks around wildly, as if waking from a dream. His breath comes fast, in ugly shuddering gulps. His ice-blue eyes resemble those of a panicked animal.
"That was, umm, un-unnecessary. I shall be taking my leave now." He makes a strange sweeping motion with his right hand, then stomps on the ground with his left foot.
Exactly what he did with his hand is not immediately clear. His foot triggered something on the floor, which opened a small pit near his feet. Without another word, he moves to jump in.
Byron, a faint whiff of sulfur gives you a clue as to what the sylph did before he opened the pit: it is the distinct smell of a match. You see its flickering flame now, jammed into the stopper of one of the flasks. You quickly estimate that you have less than twenty seconds before the matches burns down and falls into the clear, volatile-looking solution.
Fiordelise hurtles after the Syph, reckoning on the traps being a bluff and trying to grab him before he disappears out of sight.
Assuming she reaches him without being blown apart she will either try and grab him or jump down after him
Fiordelise barely sidesteps a large, circular blade that whirs out of the floor then sinks back down; rather than losing a leg, she gets a nasty cut on her left hand.
Heedless of the injury, she rushes forward and tackles the slight sylph before he has a chance to go down the opening in the floor. After a moment, the pit closes.
Throwing caution to Sky's winds, Odebie rushes headlong through the trap to aid Fiordelise.
Using my standard to grapple (if I can) or otherwise Aid Another Fior's grapple. It's the same roll either way, save I provoke if I'm grappling.
Byron, too injured to risk further wounds, follows Odebie cautiously, trying to step around the trapped area.