Seeing the guard enter the door, and realizing the guard with the signal horn only took 1 step into the cell block. The lantern cast heavy shadows showing the the bats of multiple cells, Dargon sprang into action. He tug free of the manacled and leg irons, sprinting for the cell door. He turned running down along the cell bank and turned the corner heading for the shocked guard. When he got close he tried to roll past him into the guardroom beyond.
((Ooc conditionals- 1. If the door to the guardroom is open this is what he does. 2. If it's not he will move to the right of the guard. 3. If the Acrobatics isn't successful and the guardroom door is open. Dargon stops in front of him no Dagger drawn, as it takes two moves to get to him. 4. If the guardrrom door is closed dargon stops adjacent to him but possibly invokes an AoO with the guard swinging an improvised weapon...the lantern.))
Once the trap is sprung, Kid takes off in the direction of the south guard.
2x move, active Crane Style.
Treesa spins around and focuses on the guard that Morthos had attacked, stepping in to flank with the chain.... "You're such a klutz! Why don't you just stand still and let him kill you!" And she continues "laughing".
((2 moves))
Before the guards can gather their wits, Rendylyn rushes out of the cell, still intent on preventing the farther one from giving warning.
Treesa spins around and focuses on the guard that Morthos had attacked, stepping in to flank with the chain.... "You're such a klutz! Why don't you just stand still and let him kill you!" And she continues "laughing".
When the guard turns to run Treesa swears under her breath and turns to follow while speaking some arcane words. The spell activates and she spits a blob of viscous liquid onto the guard. "You didn't have to make this hard! Maybe we'll just cut your vocal cords and let you slowly bleed out now!"
Kid advances to take a punch at the fleeing guard.
Dargon moved shortly after the Kid, with his greater exuberance. He paused fairly close and pulled his Dagger, thumbing the blade and grinning at the guard.
The guard near the door starts yelling as he moves out the door and closes it.
As the clash of steel rings out and the guards begin to falter, Posh crouches behind the shadows of the cell bars, eyes gleaming with interest.
"You know," he calls out dryly amid the din, "this reminds me of an old proverb from Daveryn:"
"Never start a fight in a locked room with the condemned. They’re the only ones motivated enough to win!"
A brief, breathless pause.
"Now do try to kill them before I’m forced to help directly!"
After all, it is poor form to bleed on the map.
With the clear path ahead of him, Morthos takes off at a quickened pace toward the guard. Strangely enough, it looks more like an intense, determined walk more so than a run.
Kid the fleeing guard is 60 ft. away. Are you taking a double move or just a single move and you are waiting for him to run past.[/ooc]
5' step.
With the guards dead Treesa returns to the cell to the bag with cloths in it and changes out of the prison rags. It wouldn't disguise them for more than a second. But they were spotted in the prison rags would be instantly attacked.
"Is there any food? Whatever is in that cell calling out 'hungry' could get loud if left alone without its meal."
"Unless it would want to eat one of the guard bodies?"
"The only food is that which the guard left. I will grab the keys this one possesses." Morthos inspects the guard's possessions and takes his keys and his sword. As he does, "Whatever resides in the cell next to us, I say we offer it food - a guard will suffice if it eats humanoids - and let it out. Perhaps it will spare us in the process. If it does not decide to devour us, it can be used as a perfect distraction for the other guards while we make our escape." While the threat of being eaten by the creature is a real possibility, Morthos offers the plan up in a matter-of-fact manner.
Rendylyn scowls at the guards' bloody heaps. "I'm not angry that we couldn't take them alive. We had to act quickly to silence them. It's disappointing, though, to lose the chance to interrogate them." I tried to stabilize them too late--the violence distracted me, she realizes. That can't happen again. Business before pleasure.
"The Kid and I will finish stripping the bodies. Maybe we can use the uniforms and armor as a disguise, maybe we'll find some useful information. Dargon, open that cell door so Morthos, Posh, and Treesa can parley with whoever's inside. Careful, though. If the prison is keeping a prisoner isolated, they probably think they're especially dangerous. I doubt offering them the swill the guards were bringing us for dinner will be much of an incentive. I'd offer them revenge."
Looking curiously at Rendylyn, he holds the guard's keys up in front of him. "I believe the guard's keys will suffice. Unless they do not. Then Dargon can assist. And revenge comes automatically to a prisoner who is starved by his captors. That goes without saying."
Morthos walks over to the cell next door and looks within. Unable to clearly see the prisoner, "Hello, prisoner. We've no time for long discussions, so I will offer you this: I will grant you your freedom for food and a chance of revenge upon those who placed you here. All I ask in return is that you concentrate your fury upon the guards and not upon us. Do you understand? What say you?"
Truly impressed by the ogre's level of speech, Morthos grins wickedly. "It would be my pleasure." Morthos moves in and frees the ogre from his chains. Then, another thought comes to mind, and he expresses it in a perfectly civil manner. "Feel free to run rampant and kill as you wish, beast, or join with us and be freed completely. Odds are, by yourself, you will kill many, but eventually you would be overwhelmed and eliminated. But together with us, your chances of survival increase dramatically. As do ours, I would wager. You would be a formidable opponent, or a formidable ally, depending on one's perspective. The choice is yours."
Having freed the ogre, Morthos returns to the others, and gathers some armor and a shield to go along with the longsword he has already acquired.
"The beast is free. I do not believe we are threatened by him. His fury lies with the guards."
As he dons his armor, he asks the others, "Where is the exit? This entire area seems to consist of nothing but cells."
Posh eyes the heap of scavenged equipment with mild amusement, brushing a fleck of dust from his sleeve as he steps delicately around the bloodstains.
"As flattered as I am by the abundance of options, I fear none of it is remotely sized for a man of my... particular dimensions."
He inclines his head toward the others, voice light but firm.
"I shall defer to you all in dividing the spoils. I suspect I would look rather more ridiculous than fearsome sheathed in a coat of chain and steel better suited to an ox."
He taps one long finger thoughtfully against his chin, eyeing the bloodied uniforms.
"However, if someone intends to impersonate our former jailers, do speak up. I have a modest hand at disguises, and might yet make the charade more convincing. One wrong thread, after all, can unravel a very fine tapestry."
And a fool’s costume is best stitched with a tailor’s precision, not a butcher’s hand.
"However, if someone intends to impersonate our former jailers, do speak up. I have a modest hand at disguises, and might yet make the charade more convincing. One wrong thread, after all, can unravel a very fine tapestry."
Raising an eyebrow, "Clever, Posh. Quite clever. I accept your offer. Even if it buys us only a fraction of a moment, that is a moment these fool guards can ill afford."
Dargon, looks at the pile of gear, and says Kid, Rendylyn? you want the other two suits of armor, I prefer to be sneaky. The swords and the bows arent my style either, Ill stick with the dagger. He then did change into a suit of peasant clothing from the bag.
((Dargon is in 17B, near the stairs, keeping a listen for any guards.))
As Morthos moves to the cell to release whatever is there Treesa digs in the spell component pouch and digs out a tiny bit of a firefly and casts the light cantrip on the palm of her hand. "Whatever it is might see in the dark fine. Even the odds a little."
Hearing intelligent speech from the ogre is interesting. She smiles at Morthos' offer. Would the ogre be intelligent enough to accept? "There is also a sword and shield that you could use. While your fists can smash the guards, using one of their swords to chop them to pieces seems.... Well, it might even be fun!?!"
Glancing at the equipment Treesa drops the chain she had. "I'm really not one for melee, but I'll take one of the saps. I might be able to flank one of you real fighter types if we get in a really bad fight. But let's hope not!
Rendylyn steps into the interrogation room with some clothes from the sack, the least bloody of the chain shirts, and a bowl from the food tray. Shortly after she emerges wearing the armor over a simple black dress. Her face and neck are clean, and she's tied her wet hair back. The Archstar is fastened at her throat.
She hefts one of the shields from the equipment pile, but takes no weapon. "Bring whatever no one needs in that sack. Perhaps we'll find more prisoners to arm. There's fresh water in the interrogation room." The bowl on the interrogation table brims with steaming warm water that smells slightly of sulphur, as from a naturally heated spring. Her filthy prison rags lie discarded in a corner.
"I count three exits. The stairs, the chimney, and Asmodeus's window." She eyes the ogre. "Those last two might be a tight squeeze for this giant. What's your name, big fellow? I'm Rendylyn, a priestess. My god wants us to leave this prison and kill everyone in our way. You should be a great help with that. "
Dargon, looks at the pile of gear, and says Kid, Rendylyn? you want the other two suits of armor, I prefer to be sneaky. The swords and the bows arent my style either, Ill stick with the dagger. He then did change into a suit of peasant clothing from the bag.
((Dargon is in 17B, near the stairs, keeping a listen for any guards.))
Kid waits with Dargon. "Pass the weapons along. I need nothing from these guards except for them to line up in front of me."
Posh approaches Morthos with a measured air, folding the remaining pieces of the blood-smeared uniform over one arm like a tailor preparing for a difficult fitting.
"Ah, Morthos. A wise choice. Let us complete your transformation into a fine specimen of official incompetence."
He circles Morthos once, appraising the already donned armor and shield with an arched brow.
"The trick is not to look *too* ready. Slouch a little—yes, like that. Less 'glorious champion,' more 'bored footman contemplating his next mug of swill.' It is an art, you know."
With deft hands, Posh smears a bit of grime across the chain shirt, adjusting a buckle just off-center, and musses the edge of the tunic.
"There. The very picture of a man paid just barely enough to care whether the prisoners escape."
He steps back, surveying his work with quiet satisfaction.
"With luck, they will take you for just another dim sentry trying not to think too hard—a task at which, I suspect, you shall perform magnificently."
Every convincing lie begins with a small, visible truth.
Woot!
Morthos follows the gnome's instruction to the letter, impressed with the bard's handiwork. "Brilliant, Posh. This should be enough to fool these dimwitted fools perfectly," he states matter-of-factly.
"I count three exits. The stairs, the chimney, and Asmodeus's window." She eyes the ogre. "Those last two might be a tight squeeze for this giant. What's your name, big fellow? I'm Rendylyn, a priestess. My god wants us to leave this prison and kill everyone in our way. You should be a great help with that. "
"The stairs. That is our exit. There is, no doubt, an outer wall surrounding this prison. With this prison's level of security, there could possibly more than one wall. But that is unimportant. What is important is that we utilize the window for the outside wall. Just in case the portcullis becomes an issue we cannot resolve. These fools are fools, but I don't believe they are foolish enough to not have built a portcullis. If they have not, all the more excellent for our escape."
"If the window becomes necessary to use sooner, then so be it. We will adapt and adjust accordingly."
"Very true Morthos. So if we can, the next fight maybe the Kid can knock a guard out without killing him? Then we can question him about the layout of the prison. Knowledge is power!"
Nodding, "The more we know, Treesa. Yes, if the young one can deliver a guard unconscious, then that would aid us greatly."
Looking over at the monk, "Can you manage it?" he simply asks.
Rendylyn nods at Morthos and Treesa. "You're thinking ahead. Good. With all of us working together, I've no doubt we'll soon leave this place behind us. But is that all we have the courage to attempt?"
"We're being tested. The woman who brought me the means of our escape, Tiadora"--a shiver passes imperceptibly down Rendylyn's spine--"made it clear that her superior doesn't need help from anyone who can't help themselves. If we cut our way out and flee, he'll take us in. But he won't be impressed, not by that alone."
"I propose to impress him. More than that, I propose we show the Trinitarians what happens when they dare to judge us. Let us have our revenge on every soul in this prison, from the warden down to the wretch who cleans the cell floors. Let us take everything we like from their corpses, fill our pockets with their gold. Let us leave this place a smoldering ruin behind us, as testimony to Asmodeus's greatness, and the beginning of our own legends."
"It's not the great risk you might think. If we leave no one behind, that means we won't face pursuit. If no one survives to warn the rest of Talingarde, it might be days, even weeks, before our escape is widely known. A massacre might be safer for us, in the long run."
"And it's sure to be more fun." Rendylyn grins.
"Very true Morthos. So if we can, the next fight maybe the Kid can knock a guard out without killing him? Then we can question him about the layout of the prison. Knowledge is power!"
"Just point at the guy you don't want killed."
Treesa grins at Kid's reply. "Oh, they're all going to die. But we want one to talk first. We'll tell you to knock one out when the time is right."
Calmly turning his focus to the changeling, "I am not interested in 'impressing' anyone, Rendylyn. Currently, I am only interested in escaping. Once we are free, then we will meet up with this 'superior' of this 'Tiadora' and see what he has in store for us. Whether he accepts me or not, means nothing to me. I've only one purpose, and I vow to fulfill it."
"And as far as 'massacring' everyone, that would be an unnecessary waste of our time and could cost us dearly. No, my dear Rendylyn," he starts, looking away and losing himself in reverie, "we want some of them left alive. We want them to know who escaped. We want them to spread our names far and wide so they KNOW who is coming for them. They will fear us! Fear us ALL! That is what is desired. And once fear has overtaken their heart, THAT is when they have already lost. And THAT is when victory becomes ours for the taking."
Soon, pathetic king, soon. You will know my name soon enough.
Rendylyn waves Morthos's objections away, still smirking. "Oh, you say that now, with the fresh memories of chains chilling your guts to icewater. But Asmodeus will fill you with fire soon enough, with me to kindle that blaze. If your purpose is as delightfully dark as you imply, it might amuse me to help you achieve it...if you help me on my own path."
"You want to leave a few alive to spread tales of our glory? I've no objection, just so long as we don't leave them untouched. There is no better use of our time than crafting a memorable revenge."
Dargon kept watch silently,waiting listening. Guards always did rounds and checked in at posts.
Posh beams at Morthos’s compliment with an exaggerated, courtly bow.
"Your praise is most kind, Sir Morthos. I shall treasure it as one treasures a rare, shining coin—perhaps even spend it wisely when next opportunity arises."
Straightening with a faint dusting of his hands, he turns his attention back to the discussion of slaughter and survival, his tone slipping into something lighter but no less earnest.
"As for the matter of blood and legend..." He spreads his hands in a small shrug.
"It is of no consequence to me whether the guards all perish or if not a single drop of their blood stains these stones. I care only that the proper route is found, that the right doors are opened, and that we are free to walk it—alive and intact."
His lips twitch into the barest hint of a smile.
"Every map has a destination. My loyalty lies with reaching it, not with the landmarks we trample along the way."
The wise cartographer records the rivers. He does not mourn when they flood.
"Hmm.... I agree with Morthos for two reasons. I don't think we should waste the time and resources to kill everyone here. If Asmodeus directs, we can return and collapse the building, later. Second, fear is a useful weapon. And only a fool discards useful weapons."
"We have a goal, or as Posh says, a destination. But that is just a single spot on the map. I have my spells and hexes, but no access to my Patron yet. I will need that in the future, or I will be less useful to this group. And I won't allow that!"