Lina’s not too proud to take the cue Brental provides, and she casts her gaze down and holds her hands up placatingly as if cowed by Nugrah’s vehemence, hoping that will help the druid's overtures.
She scurries off to find the most comfortable place she can that lets her watch the door while waiting her turn to get a bit of rest.
Meneas nods slightly in response to Brental. "Truly tragic. If we could do something to make things right, we would." There. That is perfectly truthful. If he takes a different meaning from what I say, well, that's hardly my fault.
He settles back, flexing his fingers silently and wishing he had gloves. I should invest in some for when I'm not wearing my armor. And for when things get colder... though this place is far to the south, winters might be mild.
Signy peeks through a crack in the door to take a look around as well as she can, listening carefully.
Afterward she eases it closed again and talks to Morof.
"I'm going to have to go out and see about finding a way to get to the others. I won't be going far, I just need to look around a couple of corners. Stay here and keep Vod quiet. I'll be back real soon."
Before she goes, she quickly asks the Lucky Drunk for a little help.
She slips out the door and goes to the east, keeping close to the stone wall. When she reaches the corner, Signy looks around it to see what's there.
Around the stone wall Signy can see the horses all rounded up and not much else so as she decides to delve deeper into the fort to get an idea of where her friends might be, Signy pokes her head inside the entrance to the structure where she sees a path to the left with some rubble and a trap door, and a path to the right where it appears that five bandits of varying shapes and sizes are all laid out slumbering, snoring unbearably loudly.
What surprises her the most, by far, is the sight of a massive bear-like beast with an avian head pacing within a cage developed for it by the bandits here it seems.
Signy can hardly believe her eyes, a real-life owlbear!
The old man shrugs and spit, this time somehow less aggressively. "I'll get mine someday. Just gotta wait. She'll show her face here eventually. And when she does... I'll rip it off!"
Brental is satisfied for the moment. He closes his eyes, tries to get comfortable, and aims to rest for as long as possible.
Signy stares wide-eyed at the owlbear for a little while, fantasizing about sneaking over, opening the door, and finding a nice spot to sit and watch the show.
But... too risky without knowing knowing where the others are being kept. They wouldn't want to be part of the show.
Instead she tucks the idea away, perhaps as an emergency wildcard, and slips back to rejoin Morof and deliver her report to him.
“I can keep my head up a while longer,” Lina says determinedly from where she’s seated. “I’ll wake you in a few hours, Meneas, so we can switch off?”
“Let's see if our captors will deign to give us an audience tomorrow,” she adds, for appearances’ sake. It would be best not to look too casual about cooling their heels in the dungeon.
After a few moments of silence... even in this dark dank place, sleep claims the two male adventurers while their elven companion keeps an eye out for trouble.
Her slim body is green like a sapling and her decency preserved by a multitude of leaves which he isn't sure whether they are part of her body or an outfit of some sort.
"Awaken, dear knight, it isn't safe here. Nugrah is waiting for his moment... I'm afraid he means to kill you." Her voice is like the chirping of bird combined with a gentle breeze... it would be beautiful were it not so melancholic in this moment as the woman stands, unable to meet your gaze and holding one of her arms with the other anxiously behind her back.
|
As Morof waits for Signy, he thinks of a way to become invisible easily. He remembers reading about some theories of putting an invisibility spell in a ring to make it very easy to cast. He starts remembering the formulas, but Signy comes back as he is still making sense of the basics.
Morof hears Signy's report and muses whispering "Are you thinking of letting the owlbear loose?" He hadn't thought of it, but now it sounds like a good idea. Poor creature, he thinks.
When Morof brings up freeing the owlbear Signy's eyes light up. She might have to reconsider him as cooler than she'd thought.
"I'd love to! Talk about ruining someone's evening! But... We can't do anything until the others are ready. It would be dire if we did something like that and they were still confined, or didn't have their gear yet. If we can't get to them unnoticed, and I don't think we can, we have to wait for them to act. Hopefully they don't decide the same thing."
Meneas dozes, but doesn't get very much rest.
Lina has a reasonably good sense of time passing, even through a long night, from burning the midnight oil in her arcane and alchemical studies, and she keeps herself busy agonizing over what little she has to work with for strategy on the morrow, given her handful of spells prepared and what she was able to glean about the layout of the fort on her way to being bundled into the holding cell.
She lets Brental sleep undisturbed, and gives Meneas as much time as she can, only moving to wake the knight when she figures there’s only a couple of hours or so before Akiros comes – she really, really hopes – to release them to unleash pure and utter chaos.
“Sorry,” she says, as she gives Meneas’ shoulder a gentle nudge, the start of natural shadows just visible below her eyes. “I think it would be good if I could close my own eyes for a few minutes.”
"We should rest here and now" Signy informs Morof.
"There's no closer place where we can relax. Anywhere else and we'd need to be alert for late night wanderers and roving eyes."
"Since we're not acting on our own timing, we need to be ready to go a couple of hours before sunrise. I figure we have enough time before that for each of us to sleep about 3 hours. You can go first if you like."
Several hours pass, uneventfully for Signy and Morof who claim their uneasy rest within the tunnel.
The same goes for Lina, keeping watch over her resting allies and keeping an eye on Nugrah who spends his time praying and crafting strange and disturbing fetishes. He seems to watch you very carefully. Awaiting a moment for you to pass into slumber but when that does not happen, the old man eventually finds himself dozing dozing off as well.
Eventually Signy and Morof are awakened by the sounds of the portal opening to the bandit's fort and are immediately on alert until they can see the familiar face of Akiros wreathed in the shadow of the early morning, carrying a large bag presumably holding all their companion's gear.
"It's time." He whispers. "Come, follow me and I can take you to your friends. But we must act fast, everyone is long asleep now but when we are down in the cellar I expect immediate combat... We may have to hold the door while your companions put on their armor. Are you ready?"
If so he will take them to the cellar, sneaking around any bandits on the way without much issue. He then greets whoever is awake in the cellar and quickly begins handing out weapons.
Signy is surprised and relieved to see Akiros. She hadn't expected an escort in, which solves an awfully large number of problems. She nods briskly. "More than ready!"
When they make it to the cellar, Signy doles out hugs for the 'prisoners' all around. She was almost certain they could trust Akiros, but confirmation is welcome.
She shows Morof three flasks. "Two are acid and the other is liquid fire. Do you want them in case you need to defend yourself in a pinch, or break up a gang of them? They're very nice for convincing people they shouldn't stand too close to each other. Plenty of pain all around if they do."
Having gotten full rest, Brental is one of the first awake. He is nearing the end of his morning meditation when Akiros, Morof, and Signy arrive.
"Good Starday," he says in greeting. "And may the Earth guide our steps."
Brental takes his weapons and armor and begins arming himself for the coming battle. He is glad that Akiros came when he did, as it allows him to finetune his primal requests knowing that he will have access to his usual armaments.
Nugrah awakens with a start when the rest of the party arrives and quickly takes note of Akiros handing out weapons.
"So it's treachery is it?! By Gozreh you'll never leave this place alive!"
Signy had been too busy with the reunion to even notice the druid in the corner. But when she does, a threat is a threat.
"Whoa! Cayden's Bones! Where did you find that moving, breathing scab?"
Quick as a flash she takes a step to the side and sends a couple of arrows his way.
Nugrah awakens with a start when the rest of the party arrives and quickly takes note of Akiros handing out weapons.
"So it's treachery is it?! By Gozreh you'll never leave this place alive!"
When their welcome visitors appear at first light, Lina eagerly grasps the haft of her improbably pointy besom before reaching for anything else, or even rubbing a bit of the tiredness out of her eyes.
Before she’s even able to set it aside to start helping the others into their armour, though, Nugrah makes a nuisance of himself. Hopelessly unclear on the concept of miscarriages, obviously, and bizarrely misplaced loyalties. Must have made a rubbish druid, she thinks tartly, already scrambling for the best position she can in the cramped cellar, and hoping things don’t get too loud before they’re done.
Brental grits his teeth as Nugrah awakens, and abandons his donning of armor.
"He's the Stag's father," he responds to Signy.
Brental looks at his calf and nods, smiling to see Vod.
"Begränsa!"
Vod surges into the room towards Nugrah, seeming to recognize that it would not be appropriate to trumpet at this time, and moving into a flanking position. Vodnykel readies an action to attack after Brental does.
Brental hefts his regained scimitar in both hands and moves to flank Nugrah with his loyal companion.
At the same moment, Vodnykel levels his tusks at the old druid and tries to gore him.
In a flash, Signy lets fly and both arrows bury themselves deep within Nugrah's flesh, the first piercing his sternum while the second meets his clavicle.
Morof's magical energies then smash into the unprepared man's face and he cries out groping at his shuttered eyes. This only lasts a moment before he finds himself with Brental and his loyal companion Vod surrounding him at either side.
Brental's lethal scimitar flashes and he deftly slits open Nugrah's belly spilling his entrails, Vod picks up where his master left off and finishes the ordeal by goring Nugrah and ripping the frail old man in half from the wound Brental had just created.
Akiros stands, wide-eyed, in the corner reaching for his weapon before he settles and nods at them. "That was... efficient. I can see I trusted the right people with this task. Now hurry up and get dressed, the others will be waking soon I have little doubt."
Signy is quite surprised at how quickly and completely the violence is over.
"He must have been crazy or something. 'You'll never leave this place alive' really isn't the sort of thing a right thinking person says to a group of tense, armed people."
In reply to Brental's identification of him as the Stag Lord's father, Signy mutters "seems to explain a lot on both sides of the matter."
She moves to a position to watch for anyone approaching while the other ready themselves.
When all are prepared and the time to go has come, Signy caresses the tankard on her belt and gives the Accidental God's blessing to their endeavors.
"Hāmrō prayāsamā hāmīlā'ī āśiṣ dinuhōs."
Brental lowers his blade and stares down at Nugrah's corpse.
"I regret killing a former Brother of the Green so unceremoniously, but what I have heard is that he is much the cause of this depravity. He earned this."
The living druid nods at Akiros. "I'll only be a few moments."
Brental stretches his hands out and conjures several gallons of water into one of the containers in the room, dipping himself into it. He hums and thrums as the water crystallizes into an icy breastplate around him. After a minute, he stands and flicks his wrist one more time. His skin weathers and crackles like tree bark, hardening to the touch and making him look ever more like a druid. He steps out of the container and flicks his wrist down towards his feet, where little rootlets emerge from the ground and crawl up his legs. Finally, he takes his sword and shield and turns to the others.
"I can make three of us able to see through ash, smoke, or fog, should we need to retreat into cover. Who wants to benefit from such sight?"
Meneas blinks at how swiftly the druid is disposed of, before shrugging mentally. "He wasn't exactly in the best position. A good omen for the forthcoming battle."
He dons his armor and cloak carefully, drawing up his hood and letting it cast its shadow over his face. "I'm ready when you all are." He says quietly, drawing his blade. Hopefully this time I'll be ready before the enemies are.
Brental solemnly notes Meneas' comment. "We may be able to catch some of the others by surprise, but we will eventually come toe to toe with ready foes."
Lina relaxes a bit as the others bring the mad, fallen druid down, but hurries to help them put their armour on nonetheless, before turning to her own preparations. In the worst case, her spells can make up for some of the lack if the group gets interrupted.
"I can make three of us able to see through ash, smoke, or fog, should we need to retreat into cover. Who wants to benefit from such sight?"
As she adjust the last bits of her own leathers, she nods curiously at Brental’s offer: quite apart from its immediate utility, the unfamiliar magic easily captures her attention. “If no one better suited would miss it, please loop me in. At spear-length in mist, and as a skirmisher…”
She leaves it at that, as she draws her sword and one of her many small vials. With feigned casualness, she watches carefully as the lurid fluid she tips along the edge rolls and slides slowly down: once it settles in a stable, tacky coat, she sheathes the weapon for a special meeting.
“Right,” she says, taking up her spear again, ready to go. “Any ideas about that owlbear?”
Regarding the owlbear, Brental considers what he knows about the creatures. Territorial. Deeply committed to their kin. Untamable. Violent. It's difficult to say what they want, and harder still to know how to stop their violence. But if anyone in the group might be able to communicate with such a creature, it would be the druid.
"I doubt I can tame it, but perhaps we can to an understanding. Signy, hold Cayden's blessing for a moment."
Brental peeks his head out of the cellar door and carefully walks over to the caged animal.
Guide me, Will of the World.
Brental mirrors the owlbear's movements, offering some food, and indicating friendliness as best as possible, both for himself and his friends. The crux of his message is this:
I will free you, but leave us be.
If it seems like the owlbear is going to play nice, then Brental will release the beast from the cage.
|
|
Instead of celebrating the victory, Morof winces from some light cramps on his left arm. He remembers some people stretching in the morning and he begins to see why. As the others get ready to move on, Morof actually starts to stretch his limbs, as if he is about to go for a morning run.
Just before the others are ready to go, he casts an illusion which creates many copies of himself.
He joins the conversation and says "Signy and I talked about letting the owlbear loose. I'm sure it will have something to say to these bandits."
Brental slips out ahead of the rest of his companions slipping between the sleeping forms of the bandits about him and makes eye contact with the owlbear. The creature initially puffs up posturing and Brental is concerned it will roar so he acts quickly, rutting his face in the earth and rolling over on his back. He wriggles there as though he is scratching an itch for a few moments as the owlbear watches curiously.
The druid then stands and puts is hands on the bars and shakes them gently squeezing his head against the bars. He then goes over to the rope and gnaws at it then turns back to analyze the animal's feelings on the situation.
The avian head of the creature stares at the druid a few moments more before it begins to rut its own face into the earth.
It appears that man and beast have come to an understanding.
After that Brental, not breaking eye contact with the beast walks over to each of his allies individually and rubs his neck against them as though marking them with his scent, claiming his territory. He then walks over to the gate and with a flick of his scimitar severs the rope causing the beast's cage to fly open with a crash.
The men around the party come quickly into the waking world screaming and shouting at the sight of the party. "What the hell?!" They cry before the owlbear lets out a fearsome roar silencing the bandit's cries of alarm and replacing it with wide-eyed stares and a single quiet.
"Oh shit!"
Quick as a rabbit, the figure many of you recognize as Dovan awakens from his slumber and acrobatically throws himself to his feet, his cold eyes darting about rapidly assessing the situation the man turns to run shouting at the others and waving his hand in your direction as he passes, "Ambush! It's an ambush you fools! Get up and kill them already! Auchs! AUCHS GET YOUR DUMB ASS DOWN HERE!" He hisses from halfway up the stairs to the north-eastern tower.
Before they even have a chance to get up Morof reaches for one of his arcane scrolls and speaks the sibilant words of incantation. The scroll glows and then bursts into dust as a pool of slippery syrup-like material forms under the two prone bandits.
"What-Ewww what in the hells is this stuff? The dim looking one in front who looks like he's taken a few too many knocks to the head complains as he gets up without too much difficulty and takes steady steps to get himself out of the area of the goo.
Meanwhile his friend, a male half-elf who appears to have been caked in grim already is constantly slipping and falling on his face unable to find any purchase to push himself up off the floor. "How the hell am I suppose to know Kench! H-Help me out! I can't get a damn grip in this muck!"
Meneas stalks forwards silently, his blade ready as he lunges at the bandit who remains on his feet. He carefully avoids stepping into the grease as he lashes out, fury driving his arm and training guiding it.
Meneas' blade plunges into the dimwitted man's unprotected gut, spilling much blood as the bandit cries out in agony clutching his stomach wound but managing to just stay on his feet.
At this point two more badits, one in a red top-hat and the other being the rather sickly looking Varisian man the party has identified as Falgrim Sneeg rise to their feet drawing their bows and looking around nervously trying to assertain what exactly is going on.
As Meneas steps in front of him, Brental looks at the conjured grease and considers his options. He feels he has little chance at managing to move through the grease, but knows that Vodnykel could.
"Anfalla!" he says, pointing out a path. The mastodon sees the path forward, precarious but feasible. He moves past Meneas, lumbering slowly but certainly.
The grime that has vexed the half-elf proves surprisingly no match for the calf, who strides forward. The bandits, who have bows drawn, do not threaten the mastodon. He calmly positions himself in the middle of the fray before swinging his trunk savagely into Cragger .
Feeling emboldened, Brental tries to move forward himself, towards the half-elf still on the ground.
The druid keeps his footing and raises his blade, his grip somewhat uncertain as he tries to steady himself.
Still coming to grips with the cavalier's blade thrust through his stomach Cragger doesn't even see the small mastodon approaching as he attempts to apply pressure to the wound.
Vodnykel takes full advantage and swings his mighty trunk into the man's flank, lifting him up off his feet and slamming him head-first into the wall. The druid's companion lets out a triumphant trumpet as the man does not get back up.
It seems this was one blow to the head not even Cragger could withstand.
At the same time, Brental slowly but steadily manges his way forward on the slippery terrian his ally has created towards the flailing half-elf who notes his approach with increasing levels of panic.
"Ohhh no, no, NO, NOOOO!" The helpless bandit cries out just as Brental's scimitar flashes in the light of the dawn and severs the man's head from his body.
At least he died how he lived.
Covered in filth.
Everything gets messy much faster than Lina expected, once Brental slips out to cajole the owlbear, and Morof conjures his patch of grease, and…
Wow. It’s not that there’s … a lot of them, exactly, but they’re kind of close, she thinks, thankful for small mercies as the bandits start scrambling to their feet, only for Meneas and Brental to get stuck in in no uncertain terms. It’s a silly thought, in some ways, but the unfamiliar fort really did feel bigger in the dark of the night before, though, then again, with the adventurers ‘captured,’ a thinner watch in the towers was to be expected too.
She glances towards the direction Morof and Signy are moving, and, spotting what looks like Dovan crossing her line of sight, gets ready to run interference. Not that the other two can’t take care of themselves, but. There is such a thing as a lucky shot.
The tap of Lina’s spear-butt against the floor is lost under her quick incantation, to say nothing of the uproar around her, but for a moment a shadowy image of branches blooms from the witch’s weapon into a lattice in front of her before fading from view.
Stepping forward, she throws out a jibe in the hope of drawing some of the bandits’ attention from mage and archer. “Dovan, is it? Particular about hair? Think you’re about to find out that brunettes have more fun!”
Show of confidence and protective impulse notwithstanding, Lina aims for a spot that will give her a bit of cover in case arrows start to fly from the room ahead.
"You'll get yours witch!" Is the only response Lina receives from the fleeing Dovan as he call on his ally for support.
Moments later you hear the heavy, lumbering footsteps of Auchs on the roof above as well as his maniacal but oddly child-like giggle. "It's time to play with new toys!"
Jex, launches up to his feet and immediately takes the cowards route, literally shoving past his lieutenant to get to the second floor of the fort and out of range of the heavy bruisers.
This momentary imbalance on Dovan's part is enough for Akiros to see his chance. Rushing forward with his weapon the veins visibly pulse in the sides of Akiros' head as the ex-paladin cries out in a rage and swing wildly at his foe. "DOVAN!!! I'VE BEEN WAITING A LONG TIME FOR THIS YOU SON OF A-"
Dovan swiftly raises his rapier in defense but the small blade is batted aside with ease by Akiros' mighty longsword which rips down through the man's leather armor like butter. Cracking ribs can be heard over Dovan's shrill cry of pain as blood spatters against the steps.
The owlbear, meanwhile, lumbers forth from its cage and looks around desperately pacing this way and that but it just can't seem to find a way through to its targets in this enclosed area. It eventually resorts to simply hooting and roaring aloud in frustration in the midst of the adventurers and looking like it's about ready to charge straight down the middle.
The terrain is tight for bow use, so Signy draws her dueling sword as she slips past Akiros into the next room.
"This is Dovan? Heard of him, nothing good. Nastiness toward blondes topped the list. I didn't expect such a weedy, runty little b$@$# though. Should have I guess, the type who's only talent is hurting the helpless."
Signy moves farther past Dovan than is really safe, then she takes her own slash at him.
Signy darts past Akiros and the wounded Dovan but in her taunting underestimates the wounded bandit and finds the foe's rapier swiftly plunge into her flank causing a sickening spurt of blood to issue forth as he withdraws the blade.
"Hehehe yeah, I do love the blondes, they always scream the best." The sadist chuckles darkly, his long tongue licking the blood off his weapon.
Unfazed by the man's taunts, however, Signy lashes out with her own sword with deadly results. In a heartbeat her sword cuts through the air and severs the man's tongue from his mouth. Dovan tries to scream, to gasp, but his is already chocking on his own blood. Wide-eyed her stares up at Signy as he collapses to the ground drowning quickly until he sputters no longer and is still.
Signy grasps her side with a grimace, but spits on Dovan as he lays dying.
"Totally worth it." she remarks to Akiros.
Lina eyes the owlbear with some anxiety, but things seem to be going well so far as Signy and Akiros swoop in. It’s probably for the best that they make short work of Dovan, though now she’ll have to find another bandit with whom to bandy words.
Although with that thought, as she catches some of the invective being lobbed about…
"You'll get yours witch!"
...
This momentary imbalance on Dovan's part is enough for Akiros to see his chance. Rushing forward with his weapon the veins visibly pulse in the sides of Akiros' head as the ex-paladin cries out in a rage and swing wildly at his foe. "DOVAN!!! I'VE BEEN WAITING A LONG TIME FOR THIS YOU SON OF A-"
"I didn't expect such a weedy, runty little b**!& though."
“Oh, are we doing cant in rhyme?” Lina asks excitedly, peering cautiously around the corner to look for her opening, and wondering where the lord of the castle fort has got to. Lording it up in one of the towers, still, while his underlings get put to the sword? Anyway, she’s been called worse by better, and she is also really really a witch, and – but Dovan is no longer in any condition to answer her, and she suspects the dour Akiros is unlikely to be inclined to.
The hooded knight's gaze darts between the remaining bandit, the owlbear, and his companions. In an instant, he comes to a decision. I hope we don't need any of them alive...
"Let Vod help the owlbear have its prey!" He calls to Brental, before retreating back towards the stairs up to the upper floors of the fortress.