Black Jack takes a step back from the remaining guard, bloodied and unsure he could continue the fight in earnest. Albrecht directs another ray of frost at the guard...
Ray of Frost: for
...striking the guard in the chest.
Albina's bolt of fire misses it's target once more, but does leave an attractive scorch mark upon the wall.
The sole guard seems near to breaking, tears welling in his eyes, but has no option but to continue the fight... he knows that there is only death awaiting him. He slashes at Mi'Dre...
Fighting Defensively Longsword at Mi'Dre: for
...though missing badly.
Grumblejack continues to squeeze the sergeant...
Pin maintain: for
...gradually choking the life from the man, though the black-hearted bastard still draws ragged breath.
Action Tracker (Round 5): Black Jack, Guards, Grumblejack, Shendalyn, Blackerly, Devil Dog, Albina, Mi'Dre, Albrecht
Damage Tracker:
Devil Dog 1 - 3
Grumblejack - 8
Blackerly - 23 (near death)
Northern Guard - 3
"Oh for gods sakes just die!" Shendalyn says as he brings the club down again. "Beleive me given more time I'd torture slowly in some elaborate summoning ritual but at this point I simply don't have the time!"
Swift: Arcane Strike
Attack
Damage
After blackerly's corpse
The dog will pad over to P7 and attempt to rip the guard to pieces.
Attack
CMB to trip
Damage
Shendalyn ends Blackerly's life with a brutal swipe and the sole guard still standing sees his fate and sees the offer as the only way of potentially surviving the day. He kneels weeping before Albina, at her mercy.
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Albina takes his sword and hands it to the nearest warrior who doesn't have one (Blackjack or Albrecht).
In Infernal, she says;
Seeing the sorry state of Blackjack, she reaches into the silken veil and withdraws the flask, hoping that it is some sort of healing draft.
"This might heal your wounds, Blackjack. Or it might be poison, or acid to dissolve a lock. Good luck." she says, handing him the flask. (Assuming that she can tell it's a healing potion. If not, she doesn't give it to him!)
As Albina withdraws the patch that contained a flask, it does indeed solidify into a potion of healing.
In the main room Grumblejack releases the very dead Sergeant, allowing him to clatter ungraciously to the floor. Sniffing the air a moment, the ogre rummages in the sergeant's pack and removes a bottle of what looks to be hard liquor. Sitting on the floor against the wall a moment, Grumblejack unstoppers the bottle - taking a swig and grimacing at the strong taste. He then tips a trickle through his open wound chuckling in a guttural voice as the fluid burns the wound clean.
Letting the now deceased sargeants brains drip onto the floor Shendalyn whistels merrily as he comes into the other room. "What you're going to let him live? Seems a liability that. Takes a long time to properly torture a man enough where you can call up a properly enticed devil."
Shendalyn kneels over and starts stripping the guards of there clothes and armor. Absentmindedly he checks to see if any of their boots happen to fit his feet.
The world has suddenly turned red. His vision starts to fade and his limbs become lead. The blackguard fights to remain conscious and slowly retreats out of the guard's reach. Shield...must keep shield up... Black Jack finds a wall and lean on in, the color drained from his face.
After what seems like an eternity he sees the shapely form of Albina standing in front of him. He accepts the longsword offered slowly, putting the dagger on his belt and using the bigger blade as a cane to remain standing.
He then picks up the flask in Albina's hand.
...thank you darling...
Grieves sips the liquid inside with his tongue, waiting a few seconds to see what happens. When his tongue does not burn or hurt he drinks the full bottle.
Jack takes a long breath letting the warm spread though his body as the worst wounds close. The Dark Prince bless magic, damn this feels good. He finnaly take a look at his surroundings, appraising the situation.
The mage is right, we should use this time to prepare ourselfs.
He walks to the kneeling guard and puts the point of his new sword at the man's throat.
You, undress. And if it starts to take too long I will help you with my sword...
Albrecht steadies himself against the bars of Matteo's cell, breathing heavily.
"You have my thanks, Albina," he gets out after having rested for a few moments. Whilst Black Jack orders the only living guard to strip, Albrecht decides to get some information out of him.
"How many guards remain between us and freedom? Are they all armed in a similar manner to the rest of you? How well trained are they?"
Poking his head into the other room, he notices the lifeless corpse of Blackerly at the feet of Shendalyn and Grumblejack.
"Hmm, a shame I didn't get to put my own licks in, but excellent work the pair of you," he remarks. Hmm, perhaps the ogre might be of some use after all. I'll have to force him to capitulate to me at some point, but revenge is a dish best served cold.
"Blackerly has a breastplate, Jack. If you're to be our front line that would prove to be of greater use than this guard's chain shirt. I can make use of it though, as it won't interfere with my spell casting," Albrecht then waits for the guard to remove his clothing before directing him back towards the cell that Matteo was in.
"My intentions, gentlemen, is to kill every single guard in this prison. Which, of course, means that if we were to lock the pair of you in there, one of you might get hungry," Albrecht let the threat hang in the air, "Of course, Matteo has already committed his soul to Asmodeus so perhaps he'll ask for some assistance." Albrecht will then get the cell keys from whoever has them and lock the guard in. Making sure they have anything of use from the rest of the guards, he'll wait for Albina and Jack to step into the other room before closing the door to the cells.
"So then, what now?"
Mi'Dre is just preparing to clobber the guard over the head as Albina requested, content to do so, when both Jack and Albrecht step up and start talking to him.
"Good luck with that..." he murmurs as he turns away, leaving the guard to their mercy as he moves to crouch over Blackerly's corpse, just grinning down at what's left of his face for a few moments. He gets down to business then, rummaging through his belongings and trying to get the seargent's breastplate off, taking an inventory of anything he finds and setting the breastplate aside for the others to fight over.
At Albrecht's words Matteo finally unfurls from the ball he rolled into during the fight. His voice is pitious, but forthright "You lie, I have never sworn to this Asmodus you speak of... I'm only here because I was a fool."
The guard that surrendered looks meekly at Black Jack as he begins to remove his armor and clothing.
- Masterwork longsword
- Chainmail
- 30gp
- Potion of Cure Light Wounds
- key ring
- Set of clothes (boots, decent cloth, belt, etc)
- Chain Shirt
- Heavy Steel Shield
- Longsword
- Club
- single key
- Set of clothes (boots, decent cloth, belt, etc)
Grumblejack continues to sit against the wall, drinking the heavy liquor he took in small gulps. You listen at the stairs... though the area below you is quiet for now...
As the man undress Jack press the sword point at his neck again.
The man asked you a question, answer it! How many men at this prison? And where are they? Keep in mind that if we believe in your answer you will get to see your loved ones tomorrow and never see us again.
...And keep undressing as you talk.
The guard stammers "There are maybe ten and the warden?... I don't know them all. The guards have different posts and the warden usually stays in his tower..."
Since the guard started to talk Jack pushes for more answers.
And how many exits does this place have? Where are they and how well guarded?
The less we bump into your friends the less people are going to die.
"Unless you can swim.. there's only one bridge back to the mainland"
Ok, we should be out of here soon, tomorrow this will just be a bad dream you will not have to remember. Tell me, how many men are at the main gate? Is there another one? Maybe a pier with boats?
"I don't know... but there are no boats"
Jack waits for the guard finish undressing, giving Albrecht a couple of moments to ask anymore questions. After the guard is naked he will lock him with Mateo.
Mi'Dre starts a discordant whistle as he sets to work, looking at Blackerly's belt thoughtfully for a few moments, before slipping it off of the dead man and cinching it around his own waist, tying the gold pouch, lockpicks and set of keys onto it. The potion he considers drinking to ease his pains, but for now just sets aside.
Exposing Blackerly's chest he gouges a sharp claw into the man, cutting open a large incision, and messily exposing nearly half of the dead sergeant's rib cage. He then grabs one of the downed guards clubs and starts to break the mans ribs, until he's done enough damage to be able to pry open his ribcage, so that he can reach in and pull out the man's heart.
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If there is enough armor for Blackjack, Albrecht, Shawn and herself, Albina will take a chain shirt, and a club (and any clothing that she can make fit, although the boots will likely prove problematic), the longswords being somewhat beyond her skills. Mi'Dre, unfortunately, will not be able to wear any of the armor, for now, due to his small stature.
She makes note of whether the surviving guard was the one that she had previously marked as a sadist... Whichever guard that was, she gives a spiteful kick, if his body is present. "Life is crueler and more wicked even than you, fool."
Mi'Dre tears Blackerly's heart from his chest, and bites into the warm organ, enjoying the flow of blood that fills his mouth and drips down his chin. He finishes it off with a few bites, and wipes his bloody hands on the seargent's face and hair, before picking up the potion and sidling over to Albina as she kicks one of the guard's bodies.
"Here. You should probably hold onto this..." he observes, slipping the potion to her, before switching to his natural tongue to make a suggestion.
He looked around then at the others pulling on the guard's clothes and armor, waiting until they were more or less ready before slipping towards the stairs. "I'll take a look ahead. If I call you bastards better come help." he growls at them, before descending as quietly as he can, keeping a watchful eye and ear out for trouble...
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Albina nods at Mi'Dre's suggestion, and quickly tosses the other fallen guards, except for Blakerly, who'se mangled state is not something she wishes to closely observe, into the cell with the survivor and Matteo.
She then crosses over to Grumblejack, and says, as if it has just occured to her, "You know, they probably have a keg of that stuff in the main guardroom." She pauses, to count on her fingers, before continuing, "A five gallon keg sounds about right, for this number of men and a few days ration. If it's still near full, it shouldn't weigh more than forty pounds. Do you think you could carry that out of here, when we escape, or have you drunk your fill already?"
While talking, she places her stolen club and a spare longsword at her waist, while equipping a shield in one hand, and a torch in the other, preparing to move out, once Mi'Dre returns with information.
Black Jack is able to bundle the newly naked guard into the cell with Matteo, who has remained silent after his initial outburst.
Grumblejack smiles at Albina "Hur hur, if there more booze then Grumblejack find a way to carry... either in arms or in belly" a hearty chuckle turns into a hacking cough. It is clear to see that Grumblejack is not in the best of health at present, his eyes are weary and besides the cut he received from Blackerly, there are numerous bruises on his form.
Mi'Dre stalks down the stairs and finds the stairwell connecting to a long corridor. At the end of the 80 x 20ft corridor is a large set of closed double doors. On the left side of the corridor are two closed doors, while the single door halfway down the length on the right is currently open. Mi'Dre can hear muffled voices "...fecks sake hold still while Irena puts on the bandage..." "...don't worry, Sergeant'll sort out the bastards... and grunts of pain coming from it.
Albrecht readies himself for following Mi'Dre.
While locking the guard with Mateo Jack wisper to the officer.
See, we are all friends now. I am putting you in with the only real witness that you surrendered to us and betrayed the guard. Good luck...friend.
He then puts on one set of guard's cloths, the chainmail and pick up the masterwork longsword.
Shendalyn sits down on the ground and cleans a dirtied spot of the floor of most of the dust. Quietly, almost reverently he gathers as much wet gore as possible and draws a complex infernal diagram on the black stone floor. Shendalyn speaks sagely as if he knows exactly what he's doing.
"Typically you'd want the blood of a virgin or the bones of a demon for this. If your particularly nasty and can get yourself a hound archon's tooth or an angel's feathers. But given recent events I believe this should suffice. Now stand back! I know not what ill temper this creature bears once it has broken through to this world!"
After Jack finish putting on the armor he will stand guard near the stairs trying to listen for any movement.
Mi'Dre sneaks carefully closer to the open door on the right, able to guess what he's about to see-the wounded guard, a doctor named Irena, and another guard or assistant for this 'Irena'. It doesn't hurt to be cautious however, and he doesn't want one of them to look out at an inopportune time as he's checking out the doors on the other side.
Once reassured that those in that room are occupied, he slips past the door as he heads for the furthest door on the left, and gently twists the handle, popping it open to peer inside if he's able to.
Mi'Dre moves to the open portal and peers within, spying a large room with a few wooden tables and benches. There is a large cloth banner on the far wall bearing the emblem of the prison. There are doors to adjoining rooms to the North and South - though you cannot spy into them from the hallway.
There are three people within the room, two guards, one of whom you recognize as the horn blower and is currently receiving first aid from the third person - a middle aged woman dressed in serving clothes. They are focused inward and do not notice as you steal past the door.
The far door on the left is locked, though that barrier is easily passed through judicious application of one of the keys on Blackerly's keyring. Opening the door you hold your breath but the hinges do not squeal. The room is pitch black, though your vision cuts through the dark and shows it to be an armory. There is a large assortment of weaponry within, though haphazardly stacked. It looks like the stack is a collection of equipment that has been confiscated over time.
- six sets of guard equipment (chain shirt, heavy steel shield, long sword, club)
- six longbows
- twelve quivers of twenty arrows each
- shiv made from a metal comb (dagger)
- heavy mace
- light mace
- spear
- quarterstaff
- battle axe
- rapier
- great sword
- trident
- glaive
The guard's equipment and the longbows all bear a mark of Talingarde, but the other assorted weapons are unmarked.
Shendalyn's infernal compact is completed without interruption while the others gird their loins in steel. However the 'assistance' that is sent from hell is somewhat less than awe-inspiring...
Shutting the door behind him he slips next to the trickier door, the one directly opposite from the makeshift infirmary and tries that one as well.
Mi'Dre turns slightly to panic as the door creaks loudly as he opens it... though to his luck the injured guard takes that moment to groan loudly and he is not detected. Slipping within the room he re-closes the door and looks around.
You see a plain looking room decorated with a single cluttered desk and a few chairs. The desk is covered with reams of paperwork that are prepared in shaky and indistinct hand. There is a locked door to the North and an unlocked door to the West.
The Devil despised reading the human's language even more than he disliked speaking it, so he largely ignored the desk, or at least the top of it. He checked for drawers and anything interesting within them, before examining the options available. Two doors here, two in the room with the doctor, and the doors at the end of the corridor. Not wanting to spend too much time here he checks both doors, peeking into the unlocked one and examining the locked one for a few moment, before trying the keys, and likewise peaking inside.
Shendalyn's infernal compact is completed without interruption while the others gird their loins in steel. However the 'assistance' that is sent from hell is somewhat less than awe-inspiring...
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As Shendalyn mutters the dark and infernal chant gleamed from hours of study both sober and otherwise in matters and places best left unsaid in some desperate attempt to feed that black void some might call a heart the gore begins to swirl and coalesce into the center.
Shendalyn's chant begins to take on a more urgent and excited tone as the gore begins to congeal and grown into a pulsing fleshy mass that pulsates with a dark and terrible power.
The pile starts to take shape as the undulating mass begins to grow organs whose tubular masses writhe in the blood seeking connections and attempting to form some kind of biology through this wretched form of infernal birth. After a few more nauseous seconds the mass of flesh and organs begins to grow a greenish gray skin that jiggles and pulses to the alien twitches happening beneath its glistening slimey sheen.
Suddenly the mass erupts in a column of blue flame and the mass chars and rises in the screech of a thousand thousand damned souls.
As you behold the blackened figure rising to its feet from the point where the mass once stood your heart stops from the sheer terror of recognition.
As you watch you expect the growing figure to grow to tall, even mammoth proportions as it lifts its terrible claws into the air as if in supplication to the sky.
Yet, nothing happens. The creature, little bigger than a gnome has all the appearances of a pitfiend. The hard scaly skin, the horns, the wings, the primal and terrible fang filled maw.
But the honrs are stunted, the wings are stubby and useless, the fangs are no more dangerous than your average puppy's. For all the ceremony, gore, and dark power the ritual seems to have done more than summon somethign resembling a stocky imp with none of the charm.
As the ritual comes to its anticlimax the pit fiend looks awkwardly about the room as several people are alternating between glowering at it and Shendalyn. Shendalyn for his part has his face in his hands clearly embarassed and infuriated.
Dropping its hands the pit fiend looks down on its stunted form and gives a petulant kick.
"AAAHHHHH b#~%!!#s!"
The desk is devoid of drawers, consisting merely of a flat surface to pile the paper upon.
The West door leads to a bedroom, and by the size of it probably for one of the ones in charge of the prison... perhaps Blackerly? The Northern door leads to a darkened storeroom full of mundane items.
Albrecht simply guffaws at the pitiful frame of Gurthock the Fleshmincer.
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Unsure if Mi'Dre can 'hear' her, with his telepathy, Albina tries to think extra-loud, while whispering her reply, "We are armed enough, take no unnecessary risks, the longer we delay, the sooner reinforcements may arrive."
At the loud proclamation of 'Gurthok the Fleshmincer', Albina winces and glares at Shendalyn. "There are guards only a few rooms away. Tell your fat imp to shut his mouth."
Looking at the fleshmincer Jack cant suppress his smirk.
Mr Shaw you may want to give your pet a little more of that virgin blood. But if I were you I would try some spinach first.
Searching through the pockets of his new uniform Jack finds a copper. He tosses the coin to the midget demon.
Here kid, buy yourself something nice. You look like you could used it.
Unsure if Mi'Dre can 'hear' her, with his telepathy, Albina tries to think extra-loud, while whispering her reply, "We are armed enough, take no unnecessary risks, the longer we delay, the sooner reinforcements may arrive."
At the loud proclamation of 'Gurthok the Fleshmincer', Albina winces and glares at Shendalyn. "There are guards only a few rooms away. Tell your fat imp to shut his mouth."
"Silence your wretched gap toothed maw you cow mouthed whore! I will twist your soul into amusing shapes and give the screaming remains of all your future children over to the Gylou's to slake their dark desires upon!"
At the taunts and jibes hit the little pit fiend he starts to smoke as he loses his temper. Then he points an accusing finger at Shendalyn.
"You! You bleedin idiot! This is your fault!"
Shendalyn lets his hands slide down his face as he responds. "And how in the world is it my fault you are "less" than what I summoned?"
"You! You blew all the power at once and now you've got next to nothing left till you recharge! I was supposed to be like your gatekeeper or something, was supposed ta loik stretch yer body and soul out ta let the legions through but nope you went and used it all up! You were supposed to, um, er.... Prince of darkness did I get dumber too!" The little pitfiend grips the top of its head in horror at the sudden realization that its dropped from a creature of immense power and intellect to something little more harmful than an excitable bunny.
With a sigh Shendalyn steps over the little pit fiend (an act that earns him an angry glare) and grabs one of the remaining sword belts as he discards his club.
"We'll figure this problem out later. Regardless of your shape I need you as either as a pair of eyes, an annoying set of claws, or a slab of meat to hurl towards the starving guard dogs. You will do as I say as I have met all the proper protocols for your summoning. If you refuse I am within my rights to torment you as I see fit."
The little pit fiend seems about to say somethign before Shendalyn interrupts.
"And the first thing I command you to do is be silent until I've given you permission to speak."
With a soft growl the little pit fiend backs down and glares angrily at the group.
Shrugging his shoulders Shendalyn shrugs his shoulders at the rest. "Well not having the proper materials at hand may cause some issues. In any case it looks like we'll have to do this the hard way. Just as well I haven't practiced my swordsmanship in a while and I fear I have become somewhat rusty."