Tao takes advantage of the opening Shanwen creates while moving from the back of the coach.
Retcon: Shanwen ends his turn motionless at the foot of the wagon.
Tao carefully circles to the adjacent armigers right side, swings wildly and misses.
Undeterred by, or perhaps unaware of, the demise of his comrades-in-arms, the remaining armiger presses the attack wildly on Tao.
Hurrying on toward the wagon, Sarien crosses the remaining distance and moves to the doors. He looks to the locks and reaches for his lockpicks at the same time.
"Arael, I presume?" he says quietly. "Just a moment and we'll see if we can get you out of here."
Freya draws her punching dagger, keeping a wary eye on the prone Hellknight by her feet.
Freya: 19a
Rauno: 19b
Hardin: 12
Shanwen: 11
Tao: 9
Sarien: 6
Armigers: 2
Sarien: 1
Tao attempts to finish off the last enemy
Tao's strike quickly cuts the remaining armiger down.
Sarien notes that the lock on the carriage is a mundane lock of normal quality.
"Yes, we're with Janiven. I'm not killing any hellknights. Now hush, I'm a little busy here."
Sarien slips his tools into the lock and concentrates, probing within and then twisting.
"I think...that about...does it."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Freya calls back caustically to the voice from within the carriage. "I thought the plan was to rescue the idiot stupid enough to get himself caught. Or did you think they'd let us take you back if we just asked nicely?"
Sarien deftly unlocks the carriage door, revealing a tall half-elf with dark hair and a pale complexion. He is manacled , and looks quite beaten up. He squints into the evening light, a sudden change from the dark carriage in which he had been riding.
Pleased to meet you. My name is, as I imagine you know, Arael. Thank you for coming for me, although I do not know any of you yet. I imagine we should be on our way quickly?
He scooches toward the back of the wagon, and arches an eyebrow at Freya.
Ah, you must be Freya - Janiven spoke of your great pain when she mentioned you before I was captured. I am very sorry for whatever happened to you, child. He smiles kindly, but almost winces as he does so, expecting a sharp retort.
And, it's true, I deserve to be berated. it was stupid of me to be captured. But perhaps now isn't the time to examine my failings in detail?
Sarien nods and bows with a flourish. "We're to be known as the Liberators, beginning with you, it seems. I'm Sarien. Getting out of here does sound like a good plan."
Sarien hurries over to one of the unconscious hellknights and quickly retrieves his shortspear.
"Let's be off, shall we? No need to risk diminishing our success."
Freya sinks her punching dagger into the unconsious armiger's throat. In response to any shocked glances she might receive, she replies angrily, "He got a good look at me. It's one thing for the Hellknights to be searching for a bunch of green-cloaked 'Liberators' in Westcrown and another thing entirely when they can put up a Wanted poster with our faces on them." Wiping the blood from her blade on the ground, she glances up the road to the west to see if any of the Cavalry is returning.
"Is it worth it to take any of them for questioning?" He gestures to some of the not-quite-dead Hellknights. "As to killing them, they came to us armed and armored, intent to do us harm."
"Our mistress understands the nature of the battlefield, and of self defense."
Arael inclines his head, clearly grateful to see another Iomedaen. As he pulls himself out of the wagon, he speaks in strained tones. Indeed she does, and all things being equal, I'm sure she'd have no problem with a few less Asmodeans in the world. What I'm worried about is our perception in Westcrown as "Liberators", was it? These men have families. Now that this man has been killed in my rescue, does that make me a sympathetic figure, or the Liberators? This is my concern. Now, you have horses? We'll speak more once we return to Westcrown.
The horses are quickly summoned, and the group rides back to Westcrown. Near the city gates, Arael asks for a cloak - we'll assume he is given the "Liberator" cloak Janiven provided for this exact purpose. The remainder of the journey is uneventful.
Edit: Ninja'd by Freya killing an armiger, so, you get 1 fame point instead of two. Although, on the bright side, none of the Armigers now knows what Freya looks like! :-)
Freya grumbles under her breath all the way back to the city. "So now we're worried about the Hellknights' families? Families they support by bullying everyone else? I'll bet the B~$&! Queen Abrogail has a fluffy bunny that enjoys its gilded cage. Should we let her keep her throne so the rabbit doesn't go without gourmet carrots?"
Sarien eyes Freya and considers keeping his mouth shut but disregards his better nature.
"If this were a war then maybe their families wouldn't matter. But it's not. The 'Liberators' are attempting to change the city from the inside out. Families are where such a change would begin. Acting just as brutal and callous as our oppressors won't inspire people. It'll just convince them that we're no different."
He gestured toward the city as they approached it. "Somewhere inside there may be a wife, or a mother, or a daughter who will, later tonight, hear that their husband/ son/ father isn't going to come home, ever again. It doesn't matter what he stood for, certainly not to them. But when they think about the man they've lost, they won't be thinking about the things he did to support them. They'll be thinking about the people who murdered him. And regardless of what actually occurred, to them it's murder. That helps no one."
Sarien fell silent once again.
Freya glares into the middle distance. "It's one fewer Hellknight on the street," she insists, then rides on in silence, her mouth a grim line.
Sarien nods. "I can't argue with that."
[b]Arriving back at the "abandoned" temple to Aroden just as the sun is falling, it again strikes the companions how ridiculously bare the streets are. In any other city, the lamplighters would be bustling about, dinners in cafes and eateries would just be spilling out into the streets - the night would just be beginning. Here in Westcrown, dusk may as well be midnight. Terrified of the shadowy creatures which are porported to prowl the streets after dark, the cities' residents take to their homes even as the shadows grow long, and by the time it's fully dark, nobody dares brave the streets at all. Only a few street lamps (maybe every third or fourth) are lit at all.
It is to this atmosphere that the Liberators return home bearing their figurehead - victorious for the day, but reminded that there is so much left to do.
As the group arrives (in a staggered fashion, so as to not attract too much attention), they are met in the alley by a slightly alarmed Gorvio.
Welcome, welcome. Thank the gods you're all OK, and the horses...are the horses all OK? Yes? Wonderful. Arael? Oh, thank the gods you're OK. My friends - I hate to ask this of you, you've done so much already tonight, but... it's late, and I am terribly afraid. These horses need to be returned to my father, Jacovo. We have noplace to store them here, and he needs them back tonight if at all possible, anyway. I couldn't possibly ask any of the other Liberators to do this - it's just too late - but you've certainly shown yourselves to be capable and brave. Could you return the horses? It's only about a 10 minute walk away from here. Would you mind?
Sarien shrugs. "Sure. I'm not afraid of the dark. But I'm changing my cloak." He pulls off the green cloak of the Liberators and exchanges it with his customary black one, tucking the other into his pack.
"I don't know; are we allowed to kill anyone this time, or would it reflect badly on the horses?" Freya mutters under her breath. "'Hey, would you guys mind terribly doing everything we're too scared to do ourselves?'" Despite her grumbling, however, she makes no move to leave the horses, only removing her green cloak and tossing it to Gorvio.
"Return horses? That seems like a meager use of our abilities. Is the threat really that great?"
Sarien turns to Tao and grins, his face already largely hidden in the cowl of his cloak.
"As a matter of fact, yes."
"Ok, then what's the plan."
Gorvio hands the party a seven-foot hooked pole with a lantern hung on the end. This object is called a haloran, and is commonly used by Wescranis who are in the streets after dark. They are said to offer some protection against the shadow-beasts that prowl the streets after the sun's retreat.
Abadar be with you, friends. Return quickly, Gorvio says, ducking back into the abandoned building and closing the cleverly-disguised door behind him.
After a few minutes, the party arrives at Gorvio's father's stables. Two men are standing outside - one in the doorway, another, a fairly tall man in an extravagent cloak, just in the street - and they seem to be arguing.
What do you mean you don't have the Galtish charger here "right now"? I distinctly sent a page two days ago with SPECIFIC INSTRUCTIONS to have him ready TONIGHT! This is unacceptable, horse-man, unacceptable! -This from the extravagently dressed chap who is standing just in the street. He is holding a rather large lantern.
Now, look here! states Jacovo - for it is clearly he standing just inside the door, the resemblence to Gorvio is uncanny. Pressing business came along and demanded all the horseflesh that could be mustered! I've told you, all I have left is a Taldanese mare, now do you want her, or... he pauses, as the party approaches.
Ah, see, here is the Galtish now! he exclaims, walking up the street and grabbing Freya's horse by the reins. He extends a hand for Freya to dismount. A princely beast, and yours for the night, as agreed upon, Umbero!
The man in the cloak scoffs loudly. This is an OUTRAGE, horse-man! Surely this motley band has been out riling the horse up! They were probably hired by a rival of mine who wishes my performance to fail!
Jacovo looks at the party, clearly pleading with you to intervene.
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Hardin steps forward, not quite recognizing the man from his name, manners or clothes, but at least understanding what his perceived social station is.
"I am sorry, but Jacovo spoke the truth. We have brought the horses back." He reaches up and rubs the ear of the mare he was riding. "As it's getting late, and we are indirectly responsible, would you like an escort to where you're going?" He reaches into his coin pouch and hands two gold to Jacovo. "I do thank you for meeting our needs so swiftly."
Diplomacy roll.
Dropping quickly from his horse, Sarien slides his hood back and steps forward.
"Riling the horse up? Of course not, Worthy Ulvauno. We were simply giving it a little more exercise so that it would not be over-excited during your performance. The last thing you'd want is an overly rested charger, filled with pent-up energy. Who knows what might occur in such a situation? This wench," he casually gestured to Freya, "has considerable skills at subduing wild beasts 'tweenst her thighs." He smiled and tipped a wink.
"Ask him for his autograph and tell him you're a big fan," Freya murmurs. "If he's like the actors in Egorian, he'll let you pick his pocket as long as you're patting him on the back while you do it."
She gives Sarien a murderous glare but manages to change it to a starstruck simper as she turns back to the actor.
Jacovo takes Hardin's gold, with a brief nod and a slight smile, but the man Sarien referred to as Ulvauno barely even glances at the Iomedaen.
Ulvauno leers at Freya, his lip curling up slightly as his tongue flicks out momentarily to whet his lips.
Hm. Well, I've no doubt you're correct on that point, street urchin. His eyes snap back to reality. But look at the beast! It's clearly been run half to death, and recently! Do any of you cretins have anything to say for yourself? My performance will likely be ruined! And if IT is ruined, horse-master, I assure you that YOU will be, as well!
Tao, not being one of many words, will wait patiently on the outskirts of the group ready to strike should this encounter get physical.
"How could a simple horse ruin the performance of a great actor, particularly a gifted horseman like yourself? Haven't you played the role of Sir Aerodus, the mighty Chelaxian cavalier?" She moves a little closer. "I've heard you can ride anything with," she gives him a meaningful glance, "or without a saddle."
Ulvauno seems to consider the group as a whole, before harrumphing loudly.
Very well. You ought to have checked with me first, horse-master, but I'll accept the horse - this time. And, I'll accept your apology, lass, he says, approaching Freya with a sly grin and ignoring everyone else. His eyes take her in, pausing appreciatively where (in)appropriate, and he chuckles to himself. So young, they make them these days - that shirt does make your face seem more attractive, though, and your hips aren't wider than the horse's, anyway... perhaps you'd like to join me after my play this eve?
"At the stage door?" she asks with a smile.
A shudder of revulsion passes through Freya's body, and she turns explosively on Sarien. "If you ever, ever attempt to pimp me out again, street rat, you'll be on stage with that slimy bastard singing the castrati role. I'm sure you'd clean up just fine. From what I've heard, he as pleased by a boy bent over as a girl with her legs spread." She shudders again. "Gods, I need a bath!"
Sarien looks affronted. "Pimp you out? I suggested no such thing. All I did was provide the man with another train of thought apart from the horses. It's unfortunate that the ploy didn't work at all but I am very impressed with your ability to abase yourself in that way. I'd have never imagined it possible, had I not seen it with my own eyes. I assure you, Freya, in the future I'll allow you to take the lead as your actions are far more effective than my words will ever be."
He sketched a mocking bow but was uncertain after just how effective he'd been at hiding how much the whole scenario had bothered him.
Turning back to Jacovo, he says, "Sorry about the way that went down. I hope it won't reflect on your business in the future."
After cementing plans with Freya for after his play (and leering at her a few thousand more times) Ulvauno does in fact depart on the Galtish horse she had been riding.
Jacovo spits after him.
He turns to Sarien. No, No - it is I who should apologize, for putting you in that position. My business will be fine, regardless of what that whoreson says or does. Thank you for your help, and for bringing the horses back so swiftly. I take it everything went well? He raises an eyebrow conspirationally.