A pair of guards -- not the ones who've been with you most of the day -- enter a few hours after dinner to do a visual inspection. They do not enter the cells and make no conversation. After a few moments, they turn off the light from the oil lamps, leave through the southern door and lock it behind them.
From behind the vault door, chains slowly drag across a stone floor moving closer to the door, and those closest hear a low, throaty rumble of anticipation.
Price almost smiles as the guards kill the lights, darkness was her friend. Her unnatural eyes see everything clearly. She receives the picks and contorts herself into a position to get at the manacles binding her wrists.
Her initial effort is frustrating... "Son-of-a..."
She persists. Never practiced trying to pop locks in this position.
As Price begins to work at the manacles, she feels herself getting close but discovers the awkward circumstances of her restraints make it surprisingly difficult. Perhaps if she slows down...
Asturu's cold voice was anything but reassuring or calming. "Stop rushing it and take your time. You can do it, Price." Motivational it was not.
At least he tried.
Finally, there is a curse and a *snikt*, then Price pulls her hands free. She rubs her wrists and stretches her back - giving Affyria a wink. Then she goes to work. With remarkable rapidity, her allies are unshackled.
Then she frees Timo. "There are a couple blades in the rag, take one."
She moves on to Affyria and quickly frees her.
In short order, Price liberates the rest of the bloody-minded crew. She leaves Luke for last and is careful not to move him more than necessary to liberate the sorcerer from his impressive number of bindings.
Timo rubs his wrists and ankles as the shackles come free and then stretches out his body thankful to be out of the cursed shackles. "Much obliged," he says softly with a wink and a grin at Price.
As Price hands him one of the blade patches, it smokes briefly before becoming an actual blade. Timo tests the heft and balance of the blade briefly making a few swings through the air. "Nothing special but it will definitely do the job." He then remarks to his fellow forsaken, "We must work quickly and quietly. We cannot allow the one with the horn to alert the others or this escape may be over before it began."
Price nods, "Let's get everyone free and ready by the door. Then we just need a distraction to get them to open it. I'm not sure I can pick it quietly."
Price pads over to Grumblejack's vault. She looks in through the hole and smiles reassuringly at the creature, taking his measure. "Ready to get loose and thump some little'uns with us?"
She pops the lock and moves into the cage with a confidence she doesn't feel - since she's quite sure Grumblejack could pulp her with little effort. "Nice to work with you." She offers her hand and hopes her arm doesn't get torn off. Then Price goes to work on his chains, rather expertly she thinks despite being justifiably nervous.
As Price works on the door to the vault, whatever is at the door is heard to back up several steps, chains rattling. Thank Asmodeus, these locks are practically antiques. With a *snick*, the tumblers fall into place and the door opens. Within is a massive creature looming in the darkness but Price's darkvision is easily able to discern its nature. Grumblejack is most definitely an ogre.
An ogre who has been badly beaten, judging by the flesh mottled and bruised and more than a few cuts and slashes.
For an ogre, he seems remarkable stoic, letting you unlock his manacles while he patiently waits for you to finish your work. That done, he stretches his arms, joints popping and cracking, then looks at Price with a wide, toothy grin. "Grumblejack thanks the pretty lady. You give Grumblejack freedom, and Grumblejack kill guards for you. But no worry. Grumblejack can be quiet if must. But... can't be small like little 'uns." A chuckle that sounds like boulders rumbling down a cliff comes from deep in his chest as he laughs at his own joke.
Ineluki groans softly and blinks his eyes in the darkness... as he feels someone manipulating his chains, he smiles a little. Since he only has low-light vision, not darkvision, he's relatively blind for the moment, so he softly asks... Price, 'sthat you?... thankee, whoever you are."
Once his hands are free, he struggles to remove the mask and collar,, fingers fumbling a little in the darkness... "Help me get these off please? once completely free, he rubs his wrist and his neck, twists his head around from side to side a few times to stretch. "I owe you a debt for my freedom... I'll not forget it, should we get quit of this place."
He turns to where he thinks the others are, based on where they were before, and contritely offers, "I'm sorry I jumped the gun, but he made me so angry for hitting me... I hope i didn't jeopardize our chances... I will do the best i can to get us all out of here alive.... speaking of alive... I'm barely so... can anyone help me? perhaps a healer among you?"
Price chuckles, liking the ogre for several reasons, especially his civility. "You are positively charming, Grumblejack." She pats him on the arm, "I think we are going to be great friends." She tsks over his wounds like a mother-hen, "They hurt you. We'll see what we can do about that."
"An Ogre? That can definitely be useful as a distraction if nothing else. However, the guards will definitely sound the alarm after their done pissing themselves when they see him."
He then makes his was as quietly as possible to the door in case the guards show up before they are ready.
Affyria nods to Price in thanks, then tilts her head left and right, accompanied by loud cracking noises of her neck. "Aah, much better." She looks down at her scruffy prison garb with disgust. "Now I just need some decent clothes and I'll feel like a proper person again."
Sauntering over to Inelukii, attempting to avoid the puddles of blood and goo that litter the cell floor, she regards him cooly. "I can patch you up, but you'll really have to use a tiny bit more of your intellect in the future. Timo, can you hand me one of those daggers? I'll only need it for a minute."
Upon receiving the dagger, the devil girl makes a tiny cut in one of her arms, that already appears riddled with self-harm scars. She smears a tiny drop of it on Inelukii's cheek, accompanied with a weird sounding incantation.
Affyria hands back the knife and licks a trickle of blood off her arm. "Don't fight what you're feeling, you should be right as rain in a minute or so. For any further healing, I'm afraid I'll have to find a holy symbol of the Archfiend, which is not something easily come by."
"Don't fight what I'm feeling? I don't feel anythi... oh wait... oh... what is that, it feels ... tingly... like something crawling around inside me... it's... GLORIOUS!" As he actually begins to heal from it, he'll get a broad grin on his face and nod to Affyria.. "Your blood is quite potent... thank you! Perhaps you can do the same for the poor fellow in the next cell... the one that Price is talking to... Something-Jack... she said he was hurt too."
I could get addicted to her blood.. it's intense. I never really saw what vampires saw in the stuff... til now. His smile turns warm as he regards the tiefling...
The aristocrat raises an eyebrow at Affyria's incantation, but offers no further commentary. He's happy to be finally out of his chains and gets up to do some stretching, making sure he's ready for a fight. One is surely to come. The whole thing might seem awfully out of place: a ragged looking human performing exotic looking motions to get some sense back into his battered muscles.
"So, with all of that out of the way, how do we want to approach this situation? Shock and awe might work, but without weapons and armor and the prospect of the guards sounding the alarm, that seems a little too risky. There are so many unknown variables."
Affyria approaches the ogre, checking out his physical well-being. She's clearly impressed by his imposing presence, although she does her best to hide it. "You're hurt, but you'll be fine. I do have a little amount of healing left, but I'm reluctant to spend it all now, we might need it later." Affyria then has a look at the veil, pulling off both the pentagram and the potion.
"Perhaps this is a curative potion?" Affyria says as she smells it and carefully tastes a drop.
Grumblejack nods at Price and Affyria, and for the cleric he seems to be particularly respectful but also...wary? "Grumblejack fine. Still kill many guards." He bows his head slightly--respect? from an ogre?--then ambles out of the vault-like cell, doing his best to keep his voice low and steps quiet.
He raises a hand and practically waves at the rest of the little 'uns, flashy another one of his toothy grins, then slowly steps over towards the door to the guard room but staying back from the door so as to not interfere with Timo nor betray his presence to those on the other side of the door. Of course, for those without dark vision, you only hear hints of this.
All of this seems to transpire without notice from the guards. From the other side of the door, Timo begins to understand why as he hears three voices in conversation
"I still think we should have told Blackerly."
"Why? To dock us all a day's pay for letting that happen?"
"Besides, you know he's got his card game tonight. Doesn't want to be interrupted while he fleeces us."
"Maybe. But these prisoners... t'aint normal. We hardly get any prisoners in months, then all of a sudden some of the worst we've seen in years? And a half dozen of 'me? Something ain't right. An' we should have told Blackerly."
"Yeah yeah."
Still weighing the value of healing the ogre, Price decides to let the matter rest for the time being. More urgent healing may be needed later. Seeing Asturu milling about blindly, she collects him and guides him over to a place nearer the door but out of the way of the warriors.
As he is freed, Morthos straightens himself and adjust his rags as properly as he can. "Well done. Now let us end these fools and find our freedom."
Daidalos, once freed, nods his thanks to Price, and smirks at Affyria's prayer to heal Inuluki.
I would have just left him chained up. He's already proven reckless. Still, the ogre will be a valuable ally.
As the group gathers around the door, Timo whispers, "I count three guards, the others including Blackerly seem to be off at a card game. If we move fast and hard we can take them before they know what's going on."
Price leads Morthos, and any other night-impaired allies, to reasonable spots for their assault. She also distributes any of the useful items from the rag that seem reasonable before returning the cloth to Morthos.
Price creeps to the door and tries to pick the lock silently and carefully.
Affyria indicates she is ready, taking up a rear position near the door with a grim, determined look on her face.
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Price has no problem picking the lock and she's preternaturally quiet as she goes about it. Even the *snick* of the lock disengaging seems muffled she does it so gently.
Asturu holds his breath as Price picks the lock and lets out a silent sigh when it finally gives in to her efforts. Under his breath he whispers, "I'm ready when you are."
Price backs away from the door, letting the warriors take the lead. Despite the lack of weapons, she looks feral and ready for fight.
Ineluki stands ready to attack the one with the horn with a sonic scream, as soon as the door is opened... He gives a nod to indicate he's ready...
As the door opens, Timo takes quick note of the threats. "Damn it there are four not three. No matter, this changes nothing, just less we kill later." He then notices the danger of the alarm horn is unattended on the wall and quickly makes his way across the room with a feral grin, slashing at the one closest to it with his dagger.
After the warriors sweep in and begin the bloodletting, Price moves in to flank and block the stairs as an easy escape.
Affyria strides into the room as if she owns the place, hips swaying and tail sweeping behind her. She looks at one of the sitting guards who stares back at her with a dumbfounded look.
She gives him a toothy grin, "Are you afraid yet, humans? Your reckoning has come, now surrender or perish."
Asturu rushes forward and, perhaps to the surprise of everyone, gets up close to a guard and starts pummeling him with fists and feet. A series of jabs was complimented by vicious kicks to shin and knees. Asturu knew that if he wanted to live, the guard had to be taken straight out.
Daidalos is the last to enter the room, cautiously making his way through the doorway and staying close to the wall, keeping an eye out for any that might raise the alarm.
As Price hands him the dagger, he works to get a feel for the weapon. Pathetic. How does anyone survive with such weaponry?
Let us see if this blade has any capabilities whatsoever, Morthos thinks to himself as he takes a step in and stabs at the guard.
Missing horribly, I would say clearly not, he thinks as a matter of fact, drawing the obvious conclusion that the blade is faulty.
Inëlûkii: Ranged Blast
Affyria: Move
Asturu: Charge (fists, ius)
Price: Move
Timo: Charge
Daidalos: Move
Morthos: Poke at the air
As the door opens, Inelukii sounds the attack with a blast that rattles the guard in the corner. Right behind that comes Timo slashing with one of the daggers procured from the veil. The dagger swipes across the guard's throat. He collapses to the floor in slow motion, hands at his neck trying to hold in his life blood that continues slips through his fingers.
Morthos and Asturu both begin to attack the closest guard (sitting in the chair). Asturu reveals himself as something of a martial artist, with a flying kick to the guard's chest.
The rest of you move into the room and Grumblejack brings up the rear.
---------------------
Guard 1: -6 hp; flatfooted
Guard 2: Healthy; flatfooted
Guard 3: Healthy; flatfooted
Guard 4: Dead
Morthos strikes out again with the faulty blade.
Ineluki moves up to the doorway and a position where there's no cover between himself and his targeth, then he shrieks at the wounded guard if he's still up, otherwise the closest other one.
Sadly, while it's a particularly potent attack, it's not well-aimed, and his care not to hit a friend throws off his control and he strikes a wall with it.
Asturu presses the advantage, but has trouble connecting solid blows to the flat-footed man.
The spray of the first fallen guard's blood splatters against Timo's visage as he turns to the other guards. "Who's next?" he says with a feral grin, clearly enjoying himself. He then steps, placing himself between the guards and the horn hanging on the wall, before slashing at the guard in front of him.