Tumbling in Tilea - Play Thread

[Andruillius]

Alright, here it is, the play thread revived. All posts from me will be put up here.


The meeting

As they passed on the dirk and freed themselves from the shackles, the prisoners realized that the worst part of the escape was yet to come. In total there were 11 prisoners in the small, dark room with cold stone walls, of which one were of the high elven race and one was a halfling from The Moot. Only a little light came through the tiny windows which were placed right under the roof, some three meters above the ground. Thick cobwebs covered the windows like veils, and great iron bars on the inside and outside of the windows cast shadows on the cool, sandy floor.

Three prisoners had been in the Cage for weeks. Indeed their death penalties were long overdue. One was Mileno DaVence, a young and sickly man whose crime was violence and theft from an aristocrat mansion. DaVence was addicted to hiraine, and the other prisoners had watched him shiver helplessly when the abstinences had been at their worst. Even the prison guards felt pity for the pale boy whose actions were no longer his own. It was a miracle that he was alive at all, as his body seemed to reject food, craving only for the narcotica. His hands were shaking so much that he had to be helped with getting off the shackles, and when he was finally free he quickly got up, looking extremely bewildered.

Another was Marco Piacere. He was older, bulkier, calmer and much more healthy-looking than DaVence. He was about 1.80 meters tall, had a strong body build and a black beard that had been growing uncontrolled, and so covered most of his face. His strong blue eyes showed strength and courage, but also wickedness. Piacere had assaulted a wagon with a chest of tax money that had been gathered from the provinces around Pavona, but four guards had been too many for him, and after killing two and wounding one of them he had been knocked unconscious and brought to trial, where he was given the ultimate penalty for attacking representatives of the state. When Piacere was freed he slowly got up and examined his fellow convicts. He looked calm and seemed already to know what should be done.

The third of the long-staying prisoners was Giorgini Ferzo. None of the other prisoners knew his crime, and all they could get out of him was that he was to be executed “for political reasons”. Ferzo was the only prisoners who had been regularly brought out of the cell for a few hours, and when he was returned he would either have a back covered with whip lashes or a smile on his face. Sometimes he would return with both. At 1.70 meters and 60 kilos he was not an impressing figure and he always crouched slightly, which made him seem even smaller. His nose was crooked and a slight trail of dried blood from his nose to the mouth was always visible. His small, grey, cold eyes darted in all directions and gave the impression of a nervous, but at the same time calculating figure. Often he would smile wickedly, as if the cell amused him, and now and then he would make a small, whistling sound. When the other prisoners talked Ferzo would often pretend to be cleaning his nails while eagerly catching every word that was said. Now that his hands were free for the first time in months, Ferzo eagerly started feeling the wall where the old man had seemingly disappeared. After little time however he could not find any sign of a switch or loose stones, and so he turned to the other prisoners, impatiently waiting for them to make the first move.

Nothing was in the room except the prisoners in their ragged clothes and the shackles in a chain bolted to the wall. On the floor there was sand and a few handsized rocks. The door in front of the prisoners was a thick wooden door with a small opening through which the guards could look to check the prisoners. Now it was however covered by a metal shutter on the outside, and the wary prisoners could hear no shouts or running that indicated the guards had suspected anything. Matthias Krieger, the only one among the prisoners with the ability to use magic, could feel the thick obsidian walls and roof choking the winds of magic, making him unable to grasp Aqshy in his weakened state.

The prisoners knew they had little time, as the guards frequently checked them through the window in the door. Marco Piacere stood tall among them, holding the dirk in his hand, and said with a low, confident voice:

“I’ve opened doors before, but I am sure there are others here who’ve done this a few times. Anyone else want to do the honour?”


OOC: Time to discuss what to do and how. Your time is limited. (Next post will be on next Sunday. If you haven’t posted by then, you’re in trouble.) Cerin and Gustav cannot clearly understand what Marco Piacere said, as he was speaking in thick Tilean. (I’ll be using PMs for some of the language problems, but in this case I don’t deem it necessary).

Matthias cannot use magic. You have no weapons or armour, and only two people will be able to fight if the guards block the door entrance. In addition not all of you start with your full wounds. Here’s a first wound list:

Matthias: 9 wounds.
Cerin: 12 wounds.
Vincent: 9 wounds.
Ricardo: 9 wounds.
Celeste: 7 wounds.
Norau: 13 wounds.
Gustav: 5 wounds.
Adriana: 8 wounds.
Mileno, Piacere, Ferzo: Undisclosed.

[Andruillius]

It begins

The prisoners seemed to ignore Ricardo as the Tilean girl got started with the door. Adriana showed her proficiency in lock picking: nearly soundlessly she used the dirk, and soon afterwards the door was ready to be opened. Listening intently, the prisoners discovered the guards hadn’t noticed.

Celeste did not intend to follow the other woman’s example of subtlety. After a quick check to see if people around her were ready, she violently pushed the door open and ran, screaming “Rape! They are trying to kill me!” in a poor Tilean.

The guards stood right in front of the door, dressed in blues and blacks and with a solid breastplate of iron covering their torsos. They were taken aghast when the girl came screaming at them. Their first reaction had been to hew at the person coming out of the door with their symbolic, but effective halberds. Instead they halted, looking at the pretty creature running towards them. The split second of uncertainty was all Celeste needed: Mustering her strength she leaped at the guardsmen. The tallest of the guards, a black-haired bully from the eastern outskirts of Pavona, was however in control of the situation: With a gesture that seemed like mere routine he stepped to the side, dodging Celeste’s hands and whacked her in the head as the half-naked woman flew past him and landed on the floor.

The other guard, a shorter and friendlier chap called Berzo, was the first to comprehend what had just happened. As his companion smacked the girl to the ground, he turned towards the open door and only barely blocked a fist from the tower of a man that was coming through the opening with great speed. Berzo had to give some ground, seeking room to swing his halberd. Norau quickly followed, and punched the guard. Berzo started seeing stars, but didn’t lose focus on his foe.

The tallest guard’s name was Marco. He was about to kill the young girl when he heard the sounds of quick footsteps right behind him. Marco immediately leapt over Celeste, gaining some distance on his adversary, and turned to face whoever was about to attack him. He was surprised to see yet another young, cute female stare at him with the intention to see him dead before long. Behind her he could see two figures moving rapidly out of the prison door.


Marco the Guardsman hits Celeste with the halberd and does 4 wounds.
Berzo the Guardsman misses completely, while Norau manages to cause 2 wounds back.


Map of the room:



Colour code:

Black: Marco the Prison Guard
Redbrownish: Berzo the Prison Guard

Pink: Celeste (lying down on the stomach)
Yellow: Norau
Light brown: Adriana
Purple: Vincent
Light blue: Cerin
Orange: Matthias
Red: Marco Piacere
Blue: Ricardo
Grey: Giorgini Ferzo
White: Mileno DaVence
Green: Gustav

Matthias: 9 wounds.
Cerin: 12 wounds.
Vincent: 9 wounds.
Ricardo: 9 wounds.
Celeste: 3 wounds.
Norau: 13 wounds.
Gustav: 5 wounds.
Adriana: 8 wounds.
Mileno, Piacere, Ferzo: Undisclosed.

Marco the Guard: 9 wounds.
Berzo the Guard: 7 wounds.

Cerin, Adriana, Norau and Marco Piacere are free to attack. Ricardo, Gustav, Matthias, Giorgini and Mileno still have to get out of the prison room.
Celeste is free to get up, but by doing so she risks (more) being attacked by Marco the Guard.


OOC: Please tell me if you think I’m being overly character-controlling. You have until next Sunday to post (in nine days, not two). Not doing so could mean trouble. An update on my three characters will come later.

[Andruillius]

One and a half soul



Adriana sneaks behind Marco and punches his leg from behind, dealing 1 wound. Marco stumbles a little, but doesn’t lose control.

Berzo stays to fight, does not draw a dagger (as he discovers he doesn’t carry any) and fairs poorly against Norau, dealing one wound.

Cerin fights excellently in the small space he has and causes 5 wounds on Marco. Marco looks pretty battered by now.

Ricardo tries to run out of the prison, but as he does so, he is attacked by Mileno DaVence, who clearly has lost his mind. Ricardo is almost strangled to death, but manages to crack the drug addict’s head against the stone wall, and kills him. Ricardo loses 4 wounds.

Norau shows Berzo how fighting is supposed to be done and gives him another punch in the face, dealing 4 wounds.

Marco Piacere moves in to the left of Norau and grabs Berzo the guard by the throat, choking him to death.

Vincent tries to disarm Marco, but fails.

Adding injury to insult, Marco swings the halberd at Vincent, who has great difficulties dodging the blow. The halberd makes a gash in Vincent’s side, causing 4 wounds.

Gustav sneaks unnoticed over to Celeste. He tries dragging her away, but the unwilling girl is too heavy a burden for the Halfling.

Celeste lies still, refusing to be moved by the Halfling.

Matthias moves slowly out of the prison room when most people have moved towards the guards, and tries to use magic. He finds himself unable to summon even a spark of fire as the obsidian stone in the prison walls chokes the Wind of Fire.

Giorgini Ferzo sneaks up behind Matthias, standing in the door opening and watching the other prisoners securing the first part of the path to freedom.



The prisoners moved quickly and determined, soon surrounding the guards. Norau and Marco Piacere brought down Berzo, while Cerin was giving Marco the Guard reason to fear elven martial skills. The dark-haired prison guard was fighting to survive, and knew that his life was forfeit if he didn’t do something. What will my wife say? And the children…their father failing to guard a locked door.

“Come! Let’s use ultraviolence!” The voices had grown in strength, and were slowly taking control of Mileno DaVence’s body, limb by limb. It was as if he fought against an invisible force trying to drag his hands away from his ears, which he was desperately trying to block. No! It is I who decide! I!

“Don’t be silly! You have not decided anything for years. You must listen to us, Mileno! Come, let’s have some fun!” Slowly, Mileno was forced to rise, his legs being animated by the voices. One last time he summoned all the strength that was left in his frail person, and screamed “NO!”. The voices vanished, and for a second, the first in a long, long time, Mileno experienced the feeling of freedom.

Then a deep growl raised his hairs, and the voices were back, but now in one, sneering tone. “Yes.”

Mileno’s eyes rolled backwards as on a shark as he leapt at Ricardo, with the clear intention to kill him. Before Ricardo could react Mileno had his hands around his throat, and black spots started appearing in front of the Tilean’s eyes as the brain’s access to oxygen was blocked. Mileno’s eyes came back and stared at Ricardo. In them was nothing but pure black madness: Ricardo could not see even a small sign of a human person in the stare, only the hunger of a long chained predator. Ricardo was slowly losing feeling of his limbs, but he refused to give up. With one great effort he grabbed Mileno’s head, twisted around and shoved it as hard as he could into the prison wall. A loud crack could be heard as the young man’s skull broke against the black stone, and Mileno DaVence was no more.


Marco Piacere smiled as if he had met an old friend when he came out of the prison cell and saw the guards cautiously holding their halberds in front of them. After being chained for so long, it was a welcome opportunity that was presented to him: Using his hands to do what they were made for. As he considered which of the two guards to attack, both the elf and the bushy-haired Averlander darted towards the black-haired man who had struck down the pretty – and half naked, Piacere reminded himself – girl. The other girl had also run towards him, but instead of attacking the guard she ran up behind him. The choice being as clear as it could be, Piacere went for the short one.

Just as he came up on the side of Norau, Piacere watched Berzo the Guard trying to use his unwieldy halberd to make a hole in the big blonde man, rather failing to do so and being rewarded another crushing blow to the face. It was the distraction Piacere needed: His strong right hand shot out and grabbed the defenseless guard by the throat, and before his foe could react the robber twisted his hand violently. He was rewarded with the sound of bones splintering and was happy to drop the limp body to the ground. And Berzo the Guard was no more. Piacere bent down and picked up the halberd. “I’ll take this” he said to Norau in Reikspiel.


Giorgini Ferzo watched with glee as Mileno DaVence attacked Ricardo, and chose not to interfere. He was however a little disappointed as Ricardo turned out to be the victor. The wreck of a boy would have been so much easier. But then the Tilean wouldn’t be his biggest obstacle, either. With light feet Ferzo moved to the door opening and had a peek at the scene. It was clear that the prisoners were winning, and that they would soon be able to proceed to the stairs. Excellent, Giorgini Ferzo thought.


Matthias: 9 wounds.
Cerin: 12 wounds.
Vincent: 5 wounds.
Ricardo: 5 wounds.
Celeste: 3 wounds.
Norau: 12 wounds.
Gustav: 5 wounds.
Adriana: 8 wounds.
Mileno: DEAD.
Piacere, Ferzo: Undisclosed.

Marco the Guard: 3 wounds.
Berzo the Guard: DEAD.



Colour code:

Black: Marco the Prison Guard
Redbrownish: Berzo the Prison Guard (Dead)

Pink: Celeste (lying down on the stomach)
Yellow: Norau
Light brown: Adriana
Purple: Vincent
Light blue: Cerin
Orange: Matthias
Red: Marco Piacere
Blue: Ricardo
Grey: Giorgini Ferzo
White: Mileno DaVence (Dead)
Green: Gustav

OOC:The update was delayed due to various reasons, among them giving Kojiro a day extra to post. He didn't use that, however, and so I've given him a warning. Consider it your last. As usual, comments/questions are welcomed (I hope this is a decent reaction to your last response). Next update will be on tuesday or wednesday - I'm cutting Illidan a little slack since he's in Stockholm (but Leth, you'll have to find a computer )

[Andruillius]

Initiative taken, subtlety lost

Ricardo gets shot by the man unexpectedly showing up at the bottom of the stairs, and takes 5 wounds, killing him.

Adriana gets a strafe wound from the shooting man and takes 3 wounds.

Cerin shows his proficency in close quarter combat and does 3 wounds to Marco the Guard, killing him. Marco drops his halberd to the ground, and it's up for grabs.

Norau, Gustav, Celeste and Matthias enter the Guard room. There they find: 1 Halberd, 2 daggers, an iron helmet with facial protection that probably doesn't fit any of them, 6 wooden dice and a loaded pistol, which is cocked. In addition, Gustav spots a leather strap that can be used as a sling. Other than these items, there is a wooden table, some food on a tin plate and an open cupoard with a set of guard clothes.

Marco the Guard looked ready to flee, but before he could even move, Cerin the elf struck at him and killed him. Marco the Guard was thus no more.

As the dead guard fell to the floor, four of the prisoners had scurried over to the guard room to check if there was anything of value in there. To their joy there were several objects in the room that could be used for the escape.

As the four prisoners entered the guard room, a figure suddenly appeared at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the main hall. He was about 1.80m tall, dressed in a dark violet outfit with a shiny chest plate and a well-trimmed, thin moustache. He could be mistaken as an actor on one of the town's better theatres, but was in fact Leeroy Jenkins, a man from Altdorf in the empire. Though he was extravagant, he was also known as a cruel and heartless man, which was why he was a Chief Interrogator in the Cage of St. Messerini. More than once had he personally tortured confessions out of people that were so incredible the courts were forced to believe them, and punish the accused accordingly. Inside the prison, he was one of the most hated men among the inmates, and many would give an arm or leg to see him dead.

So it was not so strange that Marco Piacere, upon seeing the snobbishly clothed man freeze at the bottom of the stairs, reacted by raising his halberd and scream "LEEEEEROOOOY JEEEEENKINS!" before starting a great run towards the man. Jenkins, who managed to keep his head calm despite the shock he was enduring, raised his pistol and shot - missing Marco Piacere but strafing a girl crouching and hitting another man in the chest, who sunk to the ground and was no more. Before the other prisoners could react, Leeroy Jenkins had started running up the stairs with Marco Piacere following in hot pursuit.

Giorgini Ferzo cursed as he watched the brute of a Tilean scream and run after Leeroy Jenkins. Few wished more to see Jenkins dead than Ferzo did, but he preferred silently slipping a dagger into the man's back to waking up half the prison in an attempt to see him off. Realising time was even more scarce than before, Ferzo moved quickly out of the prison cell, walking towards the stairs. He would not be the last to get up to the main hall, but not the first one, either.

Matthias: 9 wounds.
Cerin: 12 wounds.
Vincent: 5 wounds.
Ricardo: DEAD.
Celeste: 3 wounds.
Norau: 12 wounds.
Gustav: 5 wounds.
Adriana: 5 wounds.
Piacere, Ferzo: Undisclosed.

Marco the Guard: DEAD.

OOC: Despite warnings and sending me a PM apologising for his delay, Kojiro has failed to post for the second time and is thus modkilled. Mel gets her first warning. You have little time, as Marco Piacere's scream and following pursuit of Leeroy Jenkins is sure to have attracted the attention you wanted to avoid.

Next update is in a week.

[Andruillius]

Close to freedom


Matthias grabs the food and runs up the stairs. He still feels an invisible force blocking his access to Aqshy.

Cerin moves silently up the stairs and is not discovered by the guards behind Vincent, Gustav and Matthias.

Celeste covers herself with the cloak and moves up the stairs with the gun in hand.

Norau doesn’t find anything to sheathe the halberd with and is left alone in the room as all the other prisoners run up the stairs.

Gustav collects the leather strap and all the dice, and still has a rock.

Adriana bandages herself well enough to reduce the pain, and recovers one wound.

The group, excepting Norau, sneaked up the stairs, carefully making their way up. Even though they passed a couple of dungeon floors, they didn’t encounter any guards – although muffled shouts could be heard from the prison rooms, where the other inmates had discovered a breakaway was happening, and desperately tried to call for help.

As they approached the end of the stairs, they could hear fighting. The sound of metal tearing through flesh sent a chill down their spines, and just as they reached the entrance hall, they could see Marco Piacere slump to the ground and a battered guard withdraw his sword. Thus Piacere was no more. Behind their dead inmate, they could see the corpse of Leeroy Jenkins and another guard lying on the floor.

In the entrance hall were still five guards and two desk clerks, who looked shocked and little interested in fighting. Vincent was the first to become visible, quickly followed by Matthias and Gustav. Right behind them came Cerin, but he managed to keep himself in the shadows, undetected by the guards’ eyes. Behind him again came Celeste, Giorgini Ferzo and Adriana, but their heads were barely visible.

The guards in the entrance hall were unexpectedly few, but better armed than the two who had guarded the prison cell. Several of them had drawn their guns, and so four black eyes were staring at the group as they arrived in the room. In addition they had both halberds and swords, but they had all discarded the halberd to aim better. The last guard, who had just killed Piacere, quickly stepped to the side and raised his sword, ready to take on the escapees. Vincent could see he was bleeding from a small shoulder wound, but otherwise the grim man seemed healthy.

The situation seemed dire, but it was their only chance.

Matthias: 9 wounds.
Cerin: 12 wounds.
Vincent: 5 wounds.
Celeste: 3 wounds.
Norau: 12 wounds.
Gustav: 5 wounds.
Adriana: 6 wounds.
Piacere: DEAD
Ferzo: Undisclosed.



Colour code:

White: Guards.
Light teal: Desk clerks

Pink: Celeste
Yellow: Norau (NOT PRESENT)
Light brown: Adriana
Purple: Vincent
Light blue: Cerin
Orange: Matthias
Grey: Giorgini Ferzo
Green: Gustav


OOC: Aight, you’re about to have some four guns fired in your direction and you’ve got 5 guards blocking your way (plus the desk clerks). Again time is not on your side, as it’s imminent that more guards will arrive shortly. What do you do?

And I'll get a map going as soon as photobucket lets me log in... Oh, and I won't put a deadline this time since I've been so slow, but don't feel too secure after a week has passed.

[Andruillius]

Just a few more

Guard 4:
Shoots at Mathias: 3 hits; 3 wounds. Draws sword and charges.

Celeste:
Hides behind Gustav, giving her a cover.
Shoots at the closest guard; 2 hits; 2 wounds.

Adriana:
Improvise: Mel sees two ropes in the wall next to the office clerks that connect to two iron bars blocking the two doors on the left.

Clerk 2:
Draws dagger, taking a defensive stance.

Matthias:
Manages to disarm Clerk 2 take his dagger and twists the man around facing the other clerk, holding the dagger at the guy’s throat. With a loud clear voice he threatens to kill the clerk if the enemy doesn’t lay down their weapons. Nobody seems to listen, however, except the other clerk, who drops his dagger and hides under the desk.

Guard 1:
Charges Celeste, ignoring the Halfling (who tries to get out of the way).
Guard 1 attacks: 1 hit; 1 wound.
Celeste attacks back: 2 hits; 1 wound.

Vincent:
Darts towards the guard on the far left side, and charges.
Stand and shoot: Pistol blows up! 3 wounds.
Vincent charges: 2 hits; 2 wounds.

Norau goes up the stairs.

Gustav:
Darts away from Celeste and Guard 1. Fails his Sprint and stumbles towards Guard 2. Guard 2 shoots: 1 hit; 1 wound. Gustav realizes he can’t get past the guard, and is locked in combat with the centre guard.

Guard 5:
Runs a little forward to the closest door, calls for help and fires a shot at Celeste: 0 hits.

Ferzo: Sneaks quickly over to the desk, happy that no one seems to care about him. Sees the cowering desk clerk, picks up his dagger and tries to slay the clerk. The frightened man manages however to grip Ferzo’s arm, and they’re locked in a struggle.

Guard 2:
Attacks Gustav with the pistol: 1 hit; 1 wound.
Gustav attacks back: 0 hits.

Guard 3:
Attacks Vincent: 0 hits.
Vincent strikes back: 2 hits: 1 wound.

Guard 4 charges towards Vincent, seeing as Guard 2 has few problems with the Halfling.

Adriana runs over to the ropes on the left wall, without getting shot or attacked, and pulls the ropes, releasing huge iron bars blocking the doors!

Cerin stumbles on his way up the stairs, falls on his knees. It hurts, but otherwise Cerin is unharmed, but the time he spends on getting up again is used by the others to engage the guards.


The fighting ensued immediately. The fire wizard got a nasty wound as a bullet hit him in the ribs and embedded itself there: It would need to be taken care of later, but as it was the gunshot didn’t stall Matthias from sprinting at the closest Office Clerk. As Matthias approached the clerk drew a dagger, but the wizard punched it out of his hand, grabbed the clerk’s arm, twisted him around and held the man in front of him as a shield. Matthias shouted at the guards to lay down their weapons, threatening to kill the clerk. None of the guards seemed to care, but the other clerk dropped his dagger and sat down under the big wooden desk, whimping.

Adriana scanned the room, and quickly she saw what had to be done. On the stone wall to the left, next to the desk were two ropes that led to big iron bars raised over the two doors on the right side of the room. With a bright idea in her head she ran over to them.

Celeste shot at the closest guard, a burly red-haired fellow, hitting him in the thigh but not bringing him down. The man went right at her, ignoring Gustav and Celeste felt a searing pain as the guard’s sword cut through the breeches and scratched her left shoulder. She stabbed back at him with the dagger, only barely going through the chainmail armour. Celeste was starting to feel exhausted, but refused to give up just yet.

In a daring raid Vincent darted towards the rightmost guard, who was pointing his gun at the Averlander. The guard, a rather short and fat type, was smiling as he pulled the trigger, but the grin soon vanished as the gun blew up in his hand, leaving him in a temporary fog of smoke and with a very bruised hand. Vincent used the opportunity to get up close and punch the fat man in the face. Unfortunately for Vincent the helmet saved the guard from breaking his neck.

Gustav decided to run away from Celeste and the wounded guard, and started to run towards the centremost guard with the intention of throwing a fist of dice at him and run past. But as it were the Halfling managed to stumble over the corpse of Leeroy Jenkins, losing the dice, his speed and the momentum. The centremost guard, a lanky man with a large scar on his left cheek, took the opportunity to shoot at Gustav, but only managed to take a chip off the Halflings right ear. It hurt, but it was nowhere near fatal for the little guy.

The guard on the far right behind all the others, with a blonde moustache, ran to the first door in front of him, shouting “PRISONERS IN THE MAIN HALL!” (in Tilean) and fired his gun towards Celeste. He missed however and the bullet embedded itself deep into the wall.

Giorgini Ferzo, not one to go into a fight against a man with a sword when he had nothing, ran across the floor over to Matthias. When he saw the cowering clerk and the dagger lying on the floor he immediately leaped forwards, picked up the weapon and went at the fearful clerk, with the intention to end the man’s life. Although he was terrified, the clerk managed to stop Ferzo’s arm, and they were locked in a struggle.
The guard who had shot at Gustav lunged at the Halfling and smacked him in the face with the pistol. Gustav regained his balance, but failed to return the favour to the lanky man.

The guard who just had his own pistol blow up in his hand managed to draw his sword and slashed forward, but hit nothing but air. Vincent had dodged the blow and delivered another blow to the guard’s face, but this was also not enough to bring down the guard, although he was starting to look shabby. Things got grimmer however when Vincent discovered another guard was coming at him, sword raised for a strike.

Adriana’s idea worked perfectly: Without anyone stopping her she pulled the ropes, and two loud *CLANK* could be heard as heavy iron bars fell down in front of the two doors on the right wall, blocking any new guards from entering the room – at least from that side.

Cerin the elf was really unlucky, as he managed to trip on the stairs on his way into the main entrance hall. He fell and landed on his knees, which hurt, but didn’t do him any substantial damage. The accident did however halt him and he could only watch as the other prisoners sought to overwhelm the guards.

Norau, cursing his lack of initiative, went up the stairs and was right next to the elf as Cerin got up.

Matthias: 6 wounds.
Cerin: 12 wounds.
Vincent: 5 wounds.
Celeste: 2 wounds.
Norau: 12 wounds.
Gustav: 3 wounds.
Adriana: 6 wounds.
Ferzo: Undisclosed.



Colour code:

White: Guards.
Light teal: Desk clerks

Pink: Celeste
Yellow: Norau
Light brown: Adriana
Purple: Vincent
Light blue: Cerin
Orange: Matthias
Grey: Giorgini Ferzo
Green: Gustav


OOC: Yeah, I know. Sorry.

[Andruillius]

A halfling's fate

Guard 4:
Attacks Vincent: 3 hits; 3 wounds.
Vincent: 1 hit; 0 wounds.

Celeste:
Does a Full Defense Posture.

Adriana:
Physical test: 1 vs. 0. Adriana succeeds and kicks Ferzo off the clerk. The dagger flies over to the opposite wall.

Clerk 2:
Gets up and runs out the gate.

Cerin:
Attacks Guard 1 from the side:
1 hit; 0 wounds.
Guard 1 attacks back: 0 hits.

Matthias:
Kills the Desk Clerk, grabs the second dagger, charges Guard 2, who turns.
Matthias attacks: 3 hits; 3 wounds.
Guard 2 attacks: 0 hits.

Guard 1:
Attacks Cerin: 5 hits; 5 wounds (!)
Cerin attacks: 1 hit; 1 wound.

Vincent:
Attacks: 2 hits; 1 wound.
Guard 3 strikes back: 0 hits.

Norau:
Charges guard 4: 3 hits; 2 wounds.
Guard 4 attacks: 1 hit; 1 wound.

Gustav:
Gustav manages a perfect bite (2 out of 2 sixes, you lucky bastard) in the guard’s nether regions. The guard starts shaking uncontrollably from the pain and Gustav is knocked to the ground as the halberd hits the back of his head. The guard also falls to the ground screaming, clutching his groin, and is unable to do anything useful.
Gustav receives 2 wounds from the knock in the head, but is otherwise somewhat fine (although nearly dead).

Guard 5:
Charges at Norau: 1 hit; 1 wound.
Norau strikes back: 5 hits; 2 wounds.

Ferzo: Furious that Adriana helped the desk clerk, he runs to pick up to pick up the dagger, runs back to Adriana, and leaps at Guard 1.
Attacks: 1 hit; 0 wounds.

Guard 2:
Is twitching uncontrollably on the ground, howling with pain.

Guard 3:
Attacks Vincent: 3 hits; 2 wounds.
Vincent strikes back: 2 hits: 2 wounds – Guard 3 is dead!



Vincent’s confidence dropped a little as the fat man found an opening in his defenses and stabbed the Averlander in the shoulder, causing much pain and reducing Vincent’s ability to use the left arm. The pain almost got the best of Vincent as the guard easily blocked his counterattack.

Celeste stepped backwards, doing her best to guess where the wounded and furious guard would try to strike. Just as the red-head was going to cleave her in two, the burly fellow had to spin around as a tall elf swiftly moved in on him. Although Cerin had tried to surprise the guard, his attack was easily blocked and he only just managed to avoid getting his head cut off. Although heavily wounded the guard was still lethal with the sword, and seemed confident even with two against one.

Adriana’s plan worked again. Giorgini Ferzo was caught completely off guard as she kicked him in the back, sending the dagger flying into the far-end wall and Ferzo rolling away from the desk clerk. The clerk looked at Adriana with big eyes before using the opportunity to flee the scene, before Ferzo could have another attempt at his life. The clerk ran as fast as he could out the main exit, starting to scream for help as soon as he got out.

Mathias had killed the clerk without a second thought and leapt back over the table to help the Halfling. Also this time was a prisoner unable to sneak up behind a guard, and the lanky man was ready when Mathias charged at him. But unlike the elf, Mathias managed to get past the sword blade and plunged his daggers into the man’s chest. The chainmail saved the guard from having his lungs punctured, and he managed to shove the fire wizard away from him, but his attempt to catch Mathias in the side was far from succeeding.

Meanwhile Cerin’s foe had regained full control of the situation and pressed forward with the sword, forcing the elf backwards. It seemed fortune wasn’t with Cerin’s legs this day, as he stumbled again and was rewarded with a deep gash in his stomach. The red-haired guy grinned as the escapee moaned from the pain, but soon remembered in what situation he was when Cerin kicked him violently in the chest, almost felling him.

Vincent managed yet again to outwit the fat guard and gave him a shoulder in the face, but the man was not about to fall yet. It did however surprise him enough to cleave through empty space as Vincent sidestepped the counterattack. On his left side help arrived in the form of a blonde man with a halberd that looked impressive, two huge hands holding it. Norau charged right at the guard who had fired his pistol at the wizard. Thanks to his small size and the chainmail armour, the guard managed to avoid getting cleaved in two, although it cost him a flesh wound going from under his shoulder to his thigh. Although terrified the small man managed to cut Norau in the arm has the blonde withdrew his halberd from the attack.


Then, a terrible scream of anguish seemed to engulf the room for a second, and the fighters felt as if time froze.


The lanky guard with the scar fell to the ground, still screaming loudly, and the Halfling lay badly battered a short distance from him. Around Gustav’s head and the guard’s hands, which were clutched around his groin as he rolled back and forth on the floor, the floor was covered with blood. Between the two lay something that could only be described as a pile of flesh and gore. Gustav was near unconscious and very miserable, but at least his planned had worked.

Norau’s attention had been diverted for a second, but his mind soon cleared up as another guard came at him, screaming to seem more intimidating. Making sure he kept the small guy at distance, Norau stepped closer to Vincent and blocked most of the sword blows, only getting a small scratch on his left shoulder. Then suddenly he darted forwards and swung his halberd at the head with the blonde moustache. Again the iron-covered helmet saved one of the guards from fatal injury as most of the force from the strike went into creating a large dent in the helmet, sending it flying and nearly taking the guard’s head with it. As Norau quickly stepped back to avoid getting attacked by the other guard, the blonde moustached-man discovered his pants were being soaked with a clear yellow liquid.


Giorgini Ferzo was mad. And this time in more than one sense. Fire burned in his eyes as he watched the desk clerk run out of the room, his throat still intact. Only one thought existed in his mind: Murder. And he would murder now.

The first thing Ferzo did was to quickly run over and pick up the dagger that had been kicked out of his hand. Then he turned, and looked right into the eyes of the wretched woman that had stopped him from spilling blood. A whirlwind of images and sounds raged in his mind as he tried to decide what to do. Flashing pictures of flesh and blood mixed with desperate female screams created a symphony that he yearned to repeat oh so many times. For seconds he stood completely still and gazed at the girl. Adriana did at first try to pretend she was not terrified of the man and looked him right into his eyes, but soon felt she was losing control of her body. Her limbs went limp, her will seemed to be drained away. And just as she felt an invisible net was being closed around her, Giorgini Ferzo smiled and ran past her. The feeling passed, and Adriana regained control of herself, visibly shaken by the experience.

Ferzo threw himself at the guard behind the silly girl. With delicious, vivid images still creating a story inside his head, he tried to hack away at the red-haired foe. But instead of piercing skin he received an arm in the face and almost landed slap-bang on his back. Ferzo took a step backwards to regain his control, but was ready to lunge at the guard again – this time no one would stop him from murder.

Finally, the fat guard managed to hit Vincent. The Averlander grunted unhappily as the sword caught him in the leg and stuck in the breeches. But instead of stepping back to remove himself from the weapon, he grabbed the fat man’s swordhand and twisted it. The guard howled with pain as Vincent broke something important, and was too slow to avoid Vincent pulling the sword out of his thigh and stick it into the large throat. Thus ended the life of Enrico Giori, guard in the Cage of St.Messerini.

The prisoners were gaining the upper hand, and the three guards still able to fight were clearly getting nervous about their fate. They cheered up however as the inevitable sound of more guards shouting and coming running to their aid (several of them had discovered the barred doors and were sprinting to find a new entrance) grew stronger and stronger from the stairs, and it was certain that more enemies could arrive at any moment. So close to winning the battle, the prisoners could still lose the war.


Matthias: 6 wounds.
Cerin: 7 wounds.
Vincent: 3 wounds.
Celeste: 2 wounds.
Norau: 10 wounds.
Gustav: 1 wound.
Adriana: 6 wounds.
Ferzo: Undisclosed.




Colour code:

White: Guards
Light teal: Desk clerks (Dead or gone)

Pink: Celeste
Yellow: Norau
Light brown: Adriana
Purple: Vincent
Light blue: Cerin
Orange: Matthias
Grey: Giorgini Ferzo
Green: Gustav


OOC: Yeah, maybe a bit too much character-controlling, but I've written it all up now and I don't feel like changing it. Do fill in with details, though. Oh and Leth, you just earned yourself a Fate Point. Crazy bastard...

[Andruillius]

First freedom


Guard 4:
Attacks Norau: Fails miserably, giving Norau an excellent opportunity to strike back.
Norau strikes back with epic force: 9 hits; 7 wounds. Guard 4 is dead (!).

Celeste:
Misses completely as the guard easily blocks her stab-attempt.
Guard strikes back: 0 hits, but forces Celeste down on the floor.

Adriana:
Searches frantically through the desk and finds three objects of interest (that was some Luck roll, I tell ya), of which she has to choose one to bring with her (type it up in your text, and no, there’s no one else who can take the other two with them). The three things she can choose from are:
- A map of Tilea, with markings for guard posts, big official buildings as well as a list of names of bounty hunters on the back.
- A letter from the Imperator Grande Giorgio Ganazze of the Cage of St. Messerini granting the bearer and anyone accompanying him/her grant to pass blockades and enter military buildings in the cities of Pavona, Astiano, Scozzese and Stiami.
- A set of keys, which bears the insignia of the cities Pavona and Remas.


Matthias:
Runs out of the prison, and immediately feels Aqshy coming back to him as he exits the room.

Guard 1:
Attacks Cerin: 0 hits.
Cerin strikes back: 3 hits; 3 wounds. Guard 1 is dead!

Vincent:
Since Guard 4 is dead, Vincent makes a run for the exit.

Norau:
Successfully scares Guard 5, who cowers, but seeing as the entrance is blocked by Matthias and Vincent the guard desperately strikes at Norau before slipping past him and run up the stairs.
Guard 5 attacks: 2 hits; 2 wounds

Gustav:
Gustav picks up the halberd and ends the life of the sprawling guard. Exhausted he slowly makes his way towards Norau.

Guard 5:
Well, he’s gone now.

Ferzo:
Gives Adriana an evil look as he runs out of the building.

Guard 2:
Dead.

Cerin grabs Celeste’s arm and helps her out of the prison (Looking for weapons isn’t top priority right now)

Norau picks up Gustav and runs out of the building carrying the Halfling on his shoulder.

As Norau, the last prisoner leaves the prison and a horde of guards come running from the stairs, Mathias sends off a huge fireball flying into the prison and knocking at least a dozen guards off their feet. The fireball also sets the big wooden gates on fire, and Vincent has just enough time to close the doors before the flames consume them, effectively creating a wall of fire between the prisoners and guards. As the streets around the Cage of St. Messerini really start to realise what’s just happened, the group of escapees set off to find the House of Navioro.




The small guard who had wet his pants was still holding his sword ready to fight against Norau, although it was obvious that something of a miracle had to happen to save him. No such miracle happened however, and what Norau failed to manage with his first attempt he succeeded with on the second as he sent the guard’s head flying with one powerful strike.
Celeste shot up at the once-confident guard, who was getting jittery with three prisoners intent on killing him. The escape had taken its toll however and her stab missed the guards face, harmlessly hitting the man’s shoulder. A quick and hard slap with a leather glove sent Celeste back on the floor with an even worse headache than before. The guard turned back to the Cerin and swung his sword, but the elf was not there. A wave of surprise went across the guard’s face as a hand suddenly gripped his throat and lifted him off his feet. His world seemed to disappear as the grip tightened, and soon the burly guard was no more.

Cerin dropped the dead man to the floor, grabbed Celeste’s arm, took it around his shoulder and jogged out of the building with the girl. Ferzo trailed behind them, giving Adriana an evil look as he passed the desk.

Adriana frantically pulled out drawer after drawer, and amazingly she found three objects of interest. The sound of numerous angry guards startled her however, and before she ran as fast as she could out of the prison she picked one of them with her.

Seeing Norau chopping off the head of his adversary, Vincent took the smartest option available and ran out.

Norau roared at the other, alive guard in front him. The guard’s eyes seemed to double in size in sheer fear, but after a quick glance behind him, he realized the only way to escape alive was to run past the big man up the stairs. With a highpitched scream he ran at Norau, who was forced to step to the side as the desperate guard knocked the halberd out his hands and cut him over his right thigh. The guard then ran off up the stairs.

Panting, Gustav got himself on his legs and picked up the halberd. Even though the weapon looked ridiculous in his hands and he had trouble carrying it, the Halfling managed to swing the weapon enough to end the misery of the castrated guard, before slumping back to the ground exhausted. As he was falling into unconsciousness he felt two strong arms lift him up into the air. Norau put the little fellow on his shoulder and jogged out of the room.

Immediately as Norau got out of the prison with Gustav, Matthias seemed to glow red. The prisoners around him could feel an intense warmth as the fire wizard shot out his arms towards The Cage. A huge ball of fire spawned from Matthias’ hands and flew straight past the big oak gates of the main entrance. A horde of guards had already entered the main hall as the last prisoner exited the building, and they received the full force of the spell and were knocked off their feet, a couple of them screaming in horrible anguish as the fireball completely engulfed their bodies. The prisoners halted for a second as they amazed watched the powers of the Wolfenburger. Then Vincent discovered that the great oaken gates had caught fire, flames licking the upper edges of the wooden frames. With great speed he sprinted back to the prison, ignoring the fact that some guards were getting back on their feet, and with adrenaline-fuelled strength he managed to close the burning doors. Turning back to the prisoners he shouted at them to run, and joined them as the gates of the Cage of St.Messerini went into flames, blocking the guards from running through without being incinerated.

Amazingly, no one chased after the prisoners as they ran through the streets of the market district of Pavona. Although they received a lot of suspicious looks (after all looking like a bunch of escaped prisoners), there were no attempts to halt them in any way. It struck them only after a long while that they didn’t know where this House of Navioro was, but then the prisoners also noticed that the frontrunner had been Giorgini Ferzo who was seemingly following a well-known path. Calmed by this the prisoners let him keep the lead.

It was an ordinary day, and a busy one at that. Wind from the seas far away was ruffling their hair and intensifying the feeling of freedom. They only had time to enjoy it momentarily, though: The almost creeping figure of Ferzo was moving at a fast pace and making many unexpected turns, making the group often almost lose him from sight. At the same time the news of their escape was moving like wildfire; it seemed a wave of angry shouts was following like a wave behind them.

Finally, Ferzo moved underground. In an alley situated in a poor area of the district Ferzo stopped by a large open wooden box containing bones, potato skins and rotten apples and started pushing it. Several of the prisoners helped him move it away, and discovered a large metal lid on the ground beneath it: An entrance to the small, but famously well-developed sewers of Pavona. This was the only passage of the sewers through the market district, as they were mainly for aristocracy situated further north in the city. Once he had removed the lid, Ferzo beckoned the others to follow him and quickly climbed down into the hole. When they had all followed him and the last prisoners closed the lid (after making sure no one could see from the main street that the garbage container had been moved), the group of prisoner paused to regain their breath.


Giorgini Ferzo hunched down and inspected the floor he was standing on. They were inside a huge iron tube, and a sidewalk about one meter broad was running on each side inside it. A brown river of human waste gently flowed in the middle, passing objects now and then catching Ferzo’s attention: Corpses, bones, pieces of clothes. It was only because the Pavonians had directed a small part of a river north of the city into these tunnels that the nobles could remove so many suspicious objects so quickly. Ferzo loved the sewers. The smell was strong, probably unbearable to finer noses than his own, but it could not beat the grey-eyed man’s dirty mind.

The scratches on the surface in front of him were worrying: Not only because they showed marks from great, sharp claws, but also because they were fresh. Ratmen. After getting so far, Ferzo refused to die by the hands of these lousy creatures. Opening his ears and eyes as much as he could to signals around him that could warn him of their presence, Ferzo slowly started to move again. Better not tell the others, hysterical women are not needed right now.


Matthias: 6 wounds.
Cerin: 7 wounds.
Vincent: 3 wounds.
Celeste: 2 wounds.
Norau: 8 wounds.
Gustav: 1 wound.
Adriana: 6 wounds.
Ferzo: Undisclosed.


OOC: Congratulations, you made it out of the prison! Time to celebrate in a stinking sewer. There is little need for eight strong-willed convicts to worry down here, so use your post to reflect on your situation in life and what the future may contain. Next update will come sometime next week.

[Andruillius]

The meal


Celeste succeeds in spotting the scratches on the floor, and accurately identifies them as marks from claws belonging to big humanoids (I’ll leave it up to you to decide if Celeste has knowledge about Skaven or not). She whispers something to Ferzo about it, who snarls back.



With Giorgini Ferzo still leading them on, they continued. The prisoners moved silently, letting the perpetual sound of dirty water running calmly by remain undisturbed. The small man froze as a female voice suddenly filled his right ear. Were his crimes known to her? No. He lowered his shoulders as she revealed Ferzo was not the only one who had noticed the claw marks. Then he felt anger rise within him, and turned his face to see her, shooting her a nasty look. Scared by a little girl!

“And what exactly do you want me to do with that? Run ahead and get you a few steaks? Stay behind, bitch, and let me continue undisturbed of you wretches.”

He was pretty pleased with his response, and grinned as he turned his face back to the darkness ahead. The wizard had somehow lit a flame in his open hand, which had annoyed Ferzo, because it meant the people behind him would be having full control on his position. And he gave his name. Folly. Even so, he had to admit that a sewer full of ratmen seemed a lot less dangerous with fire in their possession.

The mood was gloomy and everyone seemed to be watching Ferzo as he nearly crawled forward, now and then stopping to check the floor in front of him or signs on the wall that they had no chance of spotting. A few times he stopped dead and started slinking backwards, and the prisoners quickly understood why. Faintly, but not far in front them, was the sound of chattering. It could not possibly come from any normal sewer rat, or it was the biggest rat they had ever heard. But every time one of the prisoners, in particular Norau, started moving a bit forward, ready for an assault, the chattering was disrupted by the sound of quick paws moving away from them.

After what had seemed like an age of walking through this hostile and smelly climate, Ferzo stopped and pointed on the roof above him.
“Here. Someone lift me up so I can take away the lid.”
They helped him up, and Ferzo quickly twist the circular plate of iron around, until it eventually let loose of the roof and he could push it up and away. Then he jumped down into the sewer, and beckoned the others to get up. "I will go last. I can climb by myself.”

The prisoners helped each other up and out of the sewer, and Ferzo proved his climbing prowess as he nearly ran up on the tube wall and threw himself through the opening. With some help he put the lid back on and made sure it was properly fastened before he started walking out of the alley they had entered. You’re staying down there.

They had finally reached the district of the noble houses of Pavona, from which the famous bridge roads started. Around them were huge mansions, built in wood and stone, and every one of them seemed to have a pebble street coming flying out of their roofs. Luckily the streets, both on the ground and in the air, seemed almost vacant. Ferzo turned to the party, and told them to listen to him closely. “If we’re seen here, we’re dead. They will call guards on us, if only because we look poor. So stay down!”
Crouching they started their move through the streets of the aristocracy. Whenever they were in the open, they moved quickly to reduce exposition, and when they were partly or wholly covered, they moved slowly to check if the route was clear. The grey-eyed man still seemed to know exactly where he was going; not once did he seemed uncertain or ask any of the others about the direction. And then, finally, he smiled: Ferzo stopped in front of a wooden door barring the entrance to a great house. On a small metal plate decorating the gate, the prisoners could read: House of Navioro. Pavona’s pride, the Maiden’s sons.

Giorgini Ferzo had a quick look around to check if anyone saw him, then demanded the dirk from Adriana. She gave it to him, and he soundlessly unlocked the door. With another check to see if the coast was clear, Ferzo opened the door and slipped inside the house. The others followed. They were finally at the end.



“Welcome. I am surprised and delighted so many of you still live!”
The old man who had given them a chance of escape stood in the middle of the big entrance hall which they had just entered. The floor was covered by a wall-to-wall carpet in red, which slunk to a small strip and ran upwards in the middle of two great staircases which ran on each side of the room. On each side were beautifully carved doors, statues and oil paintings, and in front of the old man lay the whole skin of a white giant bear.

He was dressed in a red coat with a brownish hue, which went almost all the way down to the floor. It was kept tight around his body by two rows of golden buttons which ran all the way from his throat down to the legs. Also on the coat were several black silk threads which also seemed to tighten the coat around him. On his head he wore a broad brimmed hat of the same colour as the coat, and the combination made him look rather flamboyant.

But on each hip, insuring the prisoners that his man was no harmless vagabond, hang two pistols. They looked old; ancient, even, but the prisoners could see that they were of good quality, even if they could not put their finger on what made them seem so. Sticking out on one side behind him was the tip of a sword. The old man apparently carried it on his shoulder.

The old man moved forward, and beckoned the prisoners to sit down on some chairs which had conveniently been placed in front of them.
“Seeing as your lives depend on me, I might as well allow myself to be introduced. I am Andrissano Navioro, Master of the House of Navioro, Pavona’s pride, the Maiden’s sons.” The last. But don’t tell them that.
“I will tell you enough to make you capable of continuing your mission, but first…”

Navioro asked Norau to follow him into a room on the left side connected to the entrance hall, and there showed him a bed where he could put the Halfling down. He ran his hands over the small body, checking for wounds, and was pleased to see that fatigue and a few solid knocks to the head were the reasons of his unconsciousness. He opened a drawer in a white cupboard next to the bed, and after some searching he produced a needle and a bottle with a yellowish liquid. Making sure he didn’t touch the metal tip, Navioro used the needle to inject a solid dose of the stuff into the Halfling’s right arm.
“It will hurt, but he should soon feel much better.” Navioro and Norau walked out of the room together and joined the escapees.

He had seemed friendly only a moment ago, but the old man’s voice was stern when he spoke to them again.

“You are here because of me. You may think I have given you freedom, but you are just as bound as if you were still wearing chains. I do not give a hope to live; merely a chance of a hope.”
Andrissano’s eyes were bright blue, and looked much younger than his face. The humans guessed he was in his late sixties, although he seemed to be in very good shape. He looked at each of them in turn, and although he was outnumbered Navioro showed only signs of confidence, which was reflected in his voice.

“Do not try to escape, hide, run. If you did, I would find you, and kill you. You belong to me. Your life is worse than that of a slave’s, because I am sending you on a journey that most certainly will mean death. And you will not even know what your goal is until you can almost smell it. This is your destiny, escaped convicts from the Cage of St. Messerini.”
He paused, and with a gesture commanded Celeste and Adriana to come forth.

“You will follow one law, and that is mine. The most important is this: You must never be seen. Never must you attract attention, and let whoever sees you grow suspicious. In cities you will move with at least ten meters distance from each other. If you move among people, you must never be seen as a unity. You are not a group. You are no one.”

As the two women approached him, Andrissano beckoned them to stand on each side of him.

“You will follow my orders. What I say you cannot do, you will not do. What I say you must do, you will do without questions. Anything else means death.”
Navioro took a step back, so he stood just behind the girls.
“I care not for your moral values. You are already dead, so you are not forbidden to kill, rape, steal, lie or anything else that is prohibited in this fine civilization. As long as you are never seen, and do what I tell you to, I don’t care what you do. But,”

Daggers glimpsed in Navioro’s hands as he raised his arms and bore them down on the girls’ backs. The pieces of cloth they had worn to cover the naked skin was ripped apart and away, revealing at least for a second their bare breasts.
“these you don’t touch. Hell hath no fury like woman scorned, and I don’t want you all to get killed by mad girls just because you had a little fun.”

Navioro walked over a broad door next to him in the right side, and opened it. “Now, if you will follow me, I have prepared food for you. It might be your last good meal, so eat well.”

Despite having now windows, the room was light with at least twenty candle stakes. The interior was dominated by a large rectangular table in the middle with big, comfortable chairs around it. On the table was foods of all kinds: Bread, butter, chicken, several sorts of cheese, delicious fruit and bottles of fine wine. Dinner was ready.



OOC: That's right, my RPG is sexist. Have some food and patch yourself up (yeah, there's some bandages on that table to the left, there.)

[Andruillius]

Andrissano had chosen to ignore wizard's fluffing of his feathers, though he knew it was risky to let him get away with such remarks: If he was to avoid a blood bath, he would have to gain full authority over the escaped prisoners.

You're making my life difficult, boy.

Nor did he reply to the man's question, at least not immediately. He had led them all into the dining room, watching the men and women (and elf) greedily help themselves with food and bandages. Soon after the Halfling joined the meal, and Andrissano had to force himself from not chuckling as the small fellow swallowed one dish after the other. Hopefully he would serve well as a thief. The Tilean noble did not enjoy executing people the size of children.

At least one of the women had accepted his treatment, and he hoped the other one would not dare to confront him. While he certainly had ripped off their shirts to enjoy the look of women much younger than himself (it was with a slight feeling of jealousy he watched one of them try to seduce the blonde giant), he hoped it also had made a lasting impression on the prisoners. Despite knowing he would likely never see the girls again, he hoped they would not perish at the hands of Giorgini Ferzo. The crouching figure had sat down on the far end of the table on the other side of the room, eating slowly while watching the other ex-prisoners intently. Ferzo knew that Navioro knew what his crimes were, and the Tilean noble decided to keep at least one eye on the small man at all times.

His thoughts returned to the wizard, who had been stupid enough to question his position. He took a few steps towards the robe-clad man, and adressed him with a casual voice.

"Oh, and Matthias..."

As the wizard turned towards him, a figure suddenly materialised from the shadows. In no time at all a man about the size of Ferzo had snuck up behind Matthias and laid a hand around his neck, with a dagger firmly against his throat. Taking a step closer, Andrissano slowly pulled out one his guns and forced it between the rogue wizard's teeth.

"do you really think I would have let you live if you could have posed a threat to me?"

He shoved the pistol even further in, so far that Matthias had problems swallowing and was gagging on the metal barrel. With a hand firmly placed on the other gun - to discourage any of the other escapees from joining the fray - Andrissano waited until tears were coming from the Wolfenburger's eyes.

"You are not a wizard from the college of Altdorf. You're a murderer of good Tilean men, an escaped slave, a crook. If I shot a bullet through your head right now, no one would care. So don't ever threaten me again, or it will not stop at crying."

Matthias' eyes had long gone blurry, and Andrissano took the gun out his mouth and wiped it off on the wizard's robe. Then he put the pistol back and picked up a pear from the table.

"This is Victor, who will be following with you. And Halfling: I am your new master."

Andrissano left the room.


OOC: And in comes Waaagh with his character! Prince_Asuryan, let Waaagh post before you do (you got owned, no going about it ). Next update will contain a new wounds list as well as the start of a new adventure.

[Andruillius]

«You do realise there is no other way?»

Andrissano bowed his head, looking at a long bejeweled index finger slightly tapping on a big cigar, dropping ash into an Arabyan ebony tray. «I realise I have no other choice.»

«Good.» The hand moved up to a shaved, middle-aged face, placing the big brown phallus symbol between two rows of white teeth. Pink, almost feminine lips closed around it, and the perfectly tan, smooth chins slowly imploded before the mouth was opened up again, spewing out the cigar together with a grey cloud. The person who owned these features raised his right hand, with the cigar, and looked at the old man sitting uncomfortably on a bench behind the gigantic oaken table. Andrissano kept his gaze down, looking intently on a feather pen lying on the polished surface.

The man behind the table bent forth from his pillow-filled chair, and forced Andrissano to look up. «He is planning to overthrow us, Navioro. We must save the Republic.» He put the cigar to his mouth again.

«You mean I must sa-» The younger man waved the cigar hand to stop him. «No, we must save the Republic. You owe me favours, Navioro, and so you are just a tool. The honour is mine...or ours.»

A fury boiling inside Andrissano was quickly cooled by a feeling of resignation.Even if the guards had not taken his weapons before entering the room, he doubted he would have tried to kill the arrogant Remasian. He looked down on his hands, lying calmly in his lap. Breathing deeply, he forced himself to focus and to stay formal, and reserved. «Killing a triumvir, Serne, is not the easiest of tasks to do alone. If it is honour you want, why do you place this task upon someone with such a small chance of carrying the mission through successfully?»

The younger man grinned sardonically, and put down the cigar on the black tray. «Because your life depends on it, Navioro. And that is better motivation than anything else.»

Andrissano looked down again. So many years, and it has come to this. I am being dictated by politics. He suddenly felt his age like a rock on his back, almost physically pushing his head further down. His shoulders felt heavy and useless, and he had to bite his upper lip to avoid weeping. Dictated by Guilippi Serne, triumvir of Remas.

The middle-aged man seemed occuppied with his own thoughts as well, and for a while the two just sat there, Andrissano on the hard bench and Guilippi in the comfortable chair, smoke from the cigar gently drifting around them.

When Andrissano left the room, he knew the House of Navioro was passing into legends.





Ferzo had to concentrate on not keeping a neutral mask as the shirts of the two girls had been ripped off. While the Tilean noble finished his speech, Giorgini did not blink once, but frantically moved his gaze over the naked skin of the women, registering every detail in the already rich archive inside his head. Oh, how he would feast on them in his dreams! For the moment, he would have to restrict himself to that: Dreams. The first time Andrissano Navioro had looked at him, Ferzo realised one thing: He knows. The warning had been directed specifically at him. He does not care if they get raped, Ferzo thought to himself. He wants to stop me.

Naïve. It was clear that the greyish-haired man intended to let him live, and as long as that was certain, so was it that Ferzo would continue fulfilling his dreams. Those fantastic dreams. They had helped him survive in prison, longer than he thought his mind would manage. He had not become crazy, despite his worst fears. He was still in control.

But he was also aware that every one of the other prisoners were wary of him. They spoke not to him, offered him not help, tried not to give him any orders. This would make it...difficult for him, if he ever was to get the girls for himself. Holding a loaf of bread in front of his face, he looked angrily at the elf being tended by the girl who still had not covered her breasts. The elf would have to die first.

But for now, Ferzo was content. He was still alive, he had food and warmth, and scantily clad women nearby. He surprised himself when he discovered it was enough for him to merely look at them as they tried to seduce each their new protector. The bread tasted quite well, too. He even smiled warmly as the rich red wine slowly snuck into his head and created a comfortable distance from the recent happenings and the time in the prison. For the first time in very long, he was not constantly fearing for his life. He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. It felt good.

The words of Andrissano were still in the back of his head however, and he knew that they would soon be sent out into the world again, perhaps in even worse peril than he had already endured. But for now, Ferzo was simply happy to be alive.

OOC: Just a small fluff piece to give a few hints about the journey on which you are about to embark, and the inner workings of Ferzo.

EDITed a couple of epic grammar mistakes.

[Andruillius]

Equipped to travel


Andrissano sat down on the first step of the marble staircase spiralling upwards on the right side of the entrance hall. Bowing his head, he put his hands to the face and rubbed the eyelids, as if removing the usual morning dirt. He had handled the fire wizard better than he had hoped to, but he had also lost any sense of loyalty that the man might have had to him.

Handling with force one who possesses Aqshy. This will be difficult.

He also disliked greatly that Giorgini Ferzo was among the survivors. He had hoped the small man would die at the hands of his own lack of bravery, but Ferzo had managed to slip out the Cage with the others. A psychopath, a serial rapist in the midst of these very important people could case irrevocable damage. His life depended on keeping this Tilean in check. Yet Andrissano was forced to admit that Ferzo was useful. Without him, it seemed, they would not have found their way to the House so quickly, if they had found it at all. He probably also knew the route out of Pavona that Andrissano would send them on. For some time still, the old man would trust Ferzo.

They had been given enough time now. It was time to leave.


Andrissano Navioro came back into the room, carrying his broad-brimmed hat in one hand. This let the escapees see his long, grey hair, which was tied orderly into a knot on the back with a single coil, making it look like a pony tail stub. His expression and tone was casual, though with a clearly commanding tone, as if refusal was impossible. “It is time for you to leave.”

He walked between the prisoners across the room, but not without the other hand resting on one of the pistols. Trust was not a gift he was about to give them, and he doubted they would ever earn it. He opened a narrow door that led into a smaller room filled with objects, and turned to speak, pointing at the room.

“Since you are criminals, your lives are worth nothing, but your deaths are profitable. Bounty hunters all over the city will be informed of your escape in short time, and they will no doubt soon start searching outside Pavona. Therefore you cannot use the roads, nor enter villages and towns for a while. I do not know what the price put on your head will be, but it will be high.”

He beckoned the prisoners to follow him, and entered the room himself.
“So you will have to travel through the wilderness. This will also be dangerous, but as long as you travel as a group, you will have far bigger chances of survival there.”

Andrissano walked further in, and the group could see that the objects were split into small lumps, a total of nine. By all of them were a backpack, in various sizes and shapes. The old man put the hat back on his head, and drew the sword from the sheath on his back. It was an impressive weapon; it was not fully as long as a two-handed longsword, and it could be used with both one and two hands, each with its separate fighting style. The blade shone bright, and Cerin (to his surprise) recognised the metal as ithilmar. With it Navioro started pointing on the different piles.

“But since your lives are worth something to me, I will give you these things to help you on your way. I will not equip you as warriors, because that is not the role you will play. Rather, you will be given tools to survive in the wilds.”

He stopped by the first pile. “I have not asked for your names, because I know them already, at least as accurately as they could be presented. Some things you are all getting, others are given to you individually.”

Andrissano pointed at the great blonde man.

“Norau Sige, you get a woodsman’s axe. Don’t rely on it as more than a sharp blade should you ever have to defend yourself with it, but it is a good tool for its proper use, as you will see. “The old man looked at Gustav. “And seeing as the Halfling will be having enough troubles carrying his own feet, I also give you a kettle and a small frying pan.
Cumbersome, but they could become more useful than you can imagine.”

“Cerin Minathi, to you I give the task of hunting. It is not a bow of the kind elves use, due to its limited range and force, but it is useful for killing small animals. Should you be so unfortunate as to stumble upon a wild boar, this spear will mean the difference between the death of you and the death of the beast. You also get a hunting knife, useful for skinning.”

“Celeste de Bilbali, I give you equipment for basic medical aid. This includes a roll of clean cloth for bandages, a bottle of pure alcohol, a small bottle of morfino and a box with five clean needles. Never use a needle more than once, and be careful with the drug: It is purer and stronger than the scum of this city could dream of. Use it only when the pain is excruciating and never let someone inject the dose themselves.” Andrissano looked at the girl, and gave her a faint, courteous smile, saying a few words to her in perfect Estalian. “Please do not be angry with me for giving this duty to you.”

His face turned stern again, as he came to the next pile. “Matthias Krieger, I hope you do not act as foolishly as you speak. It is a great gift you possess, but I forbid you from using it unless it is a question of life or death. Magic draws attention like light draws moths, and fire magic does so more than any other wind. Among the bounty hunters are men who have spent their entire lives practicing on murdering heretics and witches, and they will easily kill you if you are discovered.
I give you the little money that you will receive.” Andrissano walked over to Matthias and handed him a small, but fairly heavy leather pouch which made a clinging sound as it was dropped in the wizard’s hand.
“Two gold crowns and 20 silver shillings will get you far enough. I trust you with this money because you are the only one with the ability to defend yourself from all the others should there be a mutiny.” Andrissano looked at the other ex-prisoners, giving them time to let the accusation sink in. “You also get a rope.”

“Giorgini Ferzo, you are the only Tilean-born man in the group, and you will no doubt have to...extract information on your journey. Thus I give you a dagger to help you with this. Know that it is a privilege.”

“Vincent Beyer, also to you I give a hunting bow, a knife and a rope.

“Adriana, I give you too women’s things. Needles and thread might seem trivial, but you could be forced to sew other things than cloth if things go bad.”

“Victor Holler, you will help Ferzo with extracting information if need be, and I trust you to kill anyone unfortunate to stumble upon the nine of you in the woods. There can be no toleration of witnesses.”

“And to you, Karlos, I give something small that could mean a lot. From what I hear, Halflings are quite decent cooks, and what could a cook want more than a little flavour? Long ago I was given a box of Algemenspecerijen (poorly pronounced, Gustav noted), and I am sure you will have more use for it than I do.”

Once Andrissano was done with showing the group their new belongings, he sheathed his sword on his back, and picked up a map from a small bench. “I still have not told you what your mission is, and you will be disappointed if you thought I was about to tell you now. I will only tell you what I demand of you once you have reached the destination. Until then, I will only give you enough information to continue to the next checkpoint.”

He laid out the map on a table so everyone could see. It was a detailed map of Tilea, with names of the biggest towns and cities. Roads were drawn on it as spotted routes, and rivers coiled through the landscape. Andrissano pointed a finger at a house with the name Pavona, and moved it in a line north of the road that led to the city Astiano. “You will follow this road, but stay far away from it to be seen. There is always some kind of traffic on it, so be careful with fire in the night. There are no villages north of the road, so you can travel somewhat freely. But beware of bandits, who are known to make camps in this area.” He rested his finger on the first town west of Pavona. “Once you approach Astiano, you will see a great tree with bodies hanging down from it. There I will meet you. You should use no longer than three days to get there. Do not enter the town under any circumstances before I have met you.” Andrissano folded the map together.

“Judging from the smell, you used the sewers to get here. You will be using them to get out of the city as well. It is risky, but a better alternative than anything else. I have an entrance in the basement, so hopefully you should be able to get out of Pavona completely unseen.”

Hopefully.

“Pick up your things, you will be moving shortly. Any questions, ladies and gentlemen?”


Norau Sige: 13 wounds.
Trappings: Backpack, sturdy boots, a large, but thin woollen blanket, warm clothes, a metal bottle for water, a small knife and a grey hooded traveller’s cloak, woodsman axe, a kettle and a frying pan.
Encumbering status: Medium

Cerin Minathi: 10 wounds
Trappings: Backpack, sturdy boots, a large, but thin woollen blanket, warm clothes, a metal bottle for water, a small knife and a grey hooded traveller’s cloak, hunting bow, quiver with 20 arrows, spear and hunting knife.
Encumbering status: Medium

Celeste: 7 wounds.
Trappings: Backpack, sturdy boots, a large, but thin woollen blanket, warm clothes, a metal bottle for water, a small knife and a grey hooded traveller’s cloak, roll of bandages, half a litre of pure alcohol, a small bottle of morfina and a box of five clean needles.
Encumbering status: Medium

Matthias: 6 wounds.
Trappings: Backpack, sturdy boots, a large, but thin woollen blanket, warm clothes, a metal bottle for water, a small knife and a grey hooded traveller’s cloak, a leather purse with two gold crowns and 20 silver shillings and a rope.
Encumbering status: Small

Giorgini Ferzo: Undisclosed.
Trappings: Backpack, sturdy boots, a large, but thin woollen blanket, warm clothes, a metal bottle for water, a small knife and a grey hooded traveller’s cloak and a dagger.
Encumbering status: Small

Vincent: 9 wounds.
Trappings: Backpack, sturdy boots, a large, but thin woollen blanket, warm clothes, a metal bottle for water, a small knife and a grey hooded traveller’s cloak, hunting bow, knife and rope.
Encumbering status: Medium

Adriana: 9 wounds.
Trappings: Backpack, sturdy boots, a large, but thin woollen blanket, warm clothes, a metal bottle for water, a small knife and a grey hooded traveller’s cloak, fine thread and three needles of different sizes.
Encumbering status: Small

Gustav: 4 wounds.
Trappings: Backpack, sturdy boots, a large, but thin woollen blanket, warm clothes, a metal bottle for water, a small knife and a grey hooded traveller’s cloak and a box of Algemenspecerijen.
Encumbering status: Small

Victor: 9 wounds.
Trappings: Backpack, sturdy boots, a large, but thin woollen blanket, warm clothes, a metal bottle for water, a small knife and a grey hooded traveller’s cloak and two daggers.
Encumbering status: Small




OOC: Gah, that was a terrible update to write. Basically now I want you guys to describe the stuff you’ve just received. Your equipment is not of superior quality, so I want descriptions of clothes that fit badly, ragged carpet and uncomfortable backpacks. As you can see I have distributed weapons unevenly, which is intentional. I’m trying to keep this low fantasy-like, so don’t expect to get your weapons of choice anytime soon. Once you’ve described your new gear, you’ll be moving into the sewers. Oh, and you can ask Andrissano questions, I’ll try to answer those ASAP. Oh, and one thing I’ve forgotten to say which caused at least one misinterpretation. Whenever one of my characters says something, it will be in Common Tongue unless otherwise noted. So if Andrissano speaks in Tilean, it will say so. Of course, any thoughts and such will be in the mother tongue (not that it matters, anyway).

A few things you might want to look at for more in-depth information:

An example of prices written by a fan (I need to get the main WFRP rulebook to give you a better picture):
“Tobacco of quality is also varied. Cheap peasant tobacco costs 2 pennies per "sausage" (generally enough for about 10 pipe bowls) and smokes like mud; but the finer burley tobacco of estalia and the southern parts of the empire or bretonnia has a strong woodsy flavour and costs from 10 pennies to 3 shillings for an ounce. There are also flavoured varieties of the same. The Halflings flavour theirs with liquors, creating tasty sweet concoctions that sell for as much as a shilling an ounce. The flavoured tobaccos of Marienburg cost the same, but these are made with floral perfumes; each Marienburg tobacconist has a different house recipe, each using a mix of dozens of different flavouring agents.”

Huge map of Tilea: http://www.fys.ku.dk/~blicher/Tilea.jpg

[Andruillius]

Andrissano smiled to the halfling, and spoke in a patronising tone, as if adressing a small child.

"From what I hear, little man, your spirit has a tendency to be lifted a little too high." The old man's voice turned stern, accompanied by his furrowed brows. "We won't have you commit another drunken mass murder, and if I catch you drinking, it will be your loss, Karlos."




Giorgini Ferzo scowled when the Estalian woman threw her old clothes at him. He greatly disliked her new confidence, and the fact that she now had weapons and an aroused elf as a body guard. he picked up the clothes and walked over to the fireplace, where he threw them into the flames. He calmly watched as the heat consumed the breeches, smiling as sweat drops ran down his forehead over his crooked nose. As the last piece was engulfed completely, he turned to Celeste. "I don't enjoy...clothes, girl."



OOC: No idea when the big update will be done.

[Andruillius]

The sewers - again


Ferzo looked calmly, apathetic at Celeste. Inside him, boiling fury calmed and sent pleasant streams of warm hate through his veins. As it reached his fingertips, he smiled. He would have her later, it was decided by the gods. In the meanwhile he would enjoy dreaming of it. That she distrusted him already, would only make it better. He liked it when they already knew what he was going to do. It was a different kind of fear in their eyes; not a fear of what would happen next, but when it would end.

He turned to pick up his pile. The warm clothes - made of local wool, it seemed - were put on over his breeches. It didn't take long before drops of sweat started running down his back, but it didn't bother him. Carefully he inspected the dagger. To his joy he discovered the blade was fairly sharp and could easily cut through fabric, but it was not as long as he preferred them, nor was it curved at all. Still, it was good weapon, with a comfortable, wooden hilt. He was also pleased to find that there was no big whole in the backpack, and when he put it on his back, he found it fitted him rather comfortably.




"Now that you have all made yourself known with your equipment, we shall be leaving at once."

Andrissano Navioro moved past the escapees out of the dining room, beckoning the others to follow. Moving swiftly he lead them across the great entrance hall to a door on the other side. Continuing through several rooms and long hallways, they started descending downwards, and soon felt a chill sneaking onto their skin as they went deep underground. The walls changed from wooden panel to cold grey stone, which were awfully similar to the prison they had just escaped from. In the end there was nothing but cold, grey stone around them, and after a while only Cerin was able to properly see the room. Then, they stopped by a great wall.

"This is it. The private sewer entrance of the House of Navioro." The old man spoke in a sarcastic tongue, spitting out the name of his family. Cerin could see him searching the wall with his hands, and moved forward, fetching the torch hanging there. Navioro took it and lit it. "Ah, thank you elf." After the other prisoners had become accustomed to the light, they could see Navioro's face, which seemed to have gained several years on the way down. The man in the flamboyant clothes who few minutes ago had looked so confident now seemed increasingly worried, and fumbled a bit as he retrieved a large set of keys. We have wasted too much time. I should have moved before.

He walked over to a small, wooden door in the wall, and unlocked it. Those who thought it was going to make a creaking noise, where surprised to find that the door was apparently well oiled and made no sound at all as it opened. The light from the torch was cast into the room, and the escapees found a familiar sight. The pavement in the great tube was no different here, nor was the smell from the brown river. Navioro put a handkerchief over his nose and pointed at the entrance.

"This is your exit from the city. In the first crossing you take to the left, and from there you know the way, Ferzo." Giorgini nodded. Once you are out, take to the woods north of the road. I'll find you there. "

Giorgini Ferzo entered the sewer first, with a creepy voice taking the lead. "Follow me..."


OOC: I decide to end this update here because frankly, I have other things I should do. Next update will come much sooner than this one though, I can promise that. Basically enter the sewer and do whatever escaped murderers would.

[Prince_Asuryan]

Sighing, Matthias followed the group back down into the sewers. 'What is it with criminals and the sewers?' He thought, his nose grimicing at the smell. He didn't know if it was from the sewers, his clothes, or from his companions. For one hour he had been clean and out of a prision. Now he was right back in again.

'I assume we can have some light, so we can at least see what we're doing?[/i] He dryly called up the column, raising his hand, and allowing a small ball of light to illuminate the passage, 2 meters ahead and behind the companions.

OOC: Matthias lights a small light, which only shows a few meters in front of them, allowing them to keep their footing.

[Waaagh]

"The sewers. As disgusting as I remembered"

Said Victor silently and mostly to himself while waiting for the others to enter.
He then jumped to the other side of the sewer, right next to the wall, where the shadows were more dominant as the wizard poked his light around on the other side.

[Kithail]

Celeste waited until at least the wizard was inside the sewer path. She wanted for sure a small cover of flesh between her and Ferzo, for the sake of the group. Once the caster was inside, and cast a ball of light into the underground place, she took several steps forward, without taking a look back.

"Nice trick", she said, actually amazed at the many useful abilities of the wizard. "But please turn it off should we pass under any kind of place where people can look down, that's all. We cannot forget that we cannot be discovered", she added, before the pride could go too up in the Magister's mind.

What was even more amazing to Celeste than the fact that the Imperial had let loose a ball of light from his hands, was the fact that she was becoming used to the filthy odor of the sewers. It wasn't pleasant, but not disturbing enough as to cover her nose.

Is this the way I want to live the rest of my life?, the estalian fencer asked to herself. Prowling in roads of manure and rats? What would my brothers think of me? Breed and prepared to be a Princess, and living as the worse of society's criminals. Celeste, at the end, hoped that the sudden loss of ego and self esteem from her despair shown in her face was covered by the shadows of the sewers.

[Illidan Hellforge]

Norau waited silently as people entered, and when half of the group was in he moved forward himself wordlessly; if Adriana was smart she'd follow right behind him but it was her own choice. As he entered stench of the sewers he felt a moment of regret, his memories trailing off to his past in the Northern lands. With a nod he quickly set his thoughts straight though and followed the group slowly but confidently; if this was the price for escaping the horrors he left behind it wasn't all that bad really.

[Lethalis]

Gustav had tried not to look too embarrassed, shocked or present any other facial expression that would betray any emotions at the words of their would-be master. Yet slowly, more memories filled up his small head though mostly of the trial as he couldn’t remember much of the actual incident. If anything however, he hoped that some hint at the horrific deeds he was said to have executed would maybe instil some respect amongst the more devious characters he was travelling with. Surely their thoughts must’ve gone out to going over some possibilities of how the small halfling could’ve managed any kind of mass murder, let alone drunk? He sulkingly went into the sewers with the others – the revealing of his crimes better be beneficial to overcome the lack of alcohol he’d be facing for some time to come if these people were to take a just warning to heart.

Making sure that the Algemenspecerijen would get in no foreseeable risk he descended into the waiting darkness. A strange thought entered his mind as he did – “if I ever make it back to the Moot, I should become king..”

[Mel'Reyna]

Adriana sighed as they were sent back down in to the sewers, which was probably the second worst place that she could be after a jail cell. At least she was able to manage the smell a little bit better this time around, getting somewhat used to it relatively quickly to the point where she didn't feel like constantly throwing up. Seeing Norau's huge frame pull ahead, she picked up the pace and caught up, wanting to stay as close to him as possible since he was currently the only thing or person who instilled any sense of security in her. She dreaded how the rest of this day would go, not looking forward to trekking through the woods once they got out of the sewers at all, and who knew what else after that. If she had all the gold in the world, she probably would have traded it all for a warm bath and a foot massage right at that moment, but unfortunately she didn't, so the best that she could do was use her imagination and pretend.

[Andruillius]

Dark business


Giorgini Ferzo again took the lead as the door was closed behind the group. He hated to agree with the girl, but Celeste was right: They had to be very careful with light in the sewers.

“Less flames, witch,” Ferzo hissed to Matthias, who had no choice but to follow the small man’s orders and reduced his spell to a small sparkle, barely giving light around their feet. “We shall have to trust other senses than the sight.”

Victor was soon forced to jump over to the other side of the sidewalk again, as the iron tube they were in split in a cross, where the escapees followed the old man’s orders and took to the left, much to Ferzo’s delight, who disliked having people walking anywhere but behind him in the dark. As they turned, Giorgini quickly recognized where they were. This was under the neighbourhood of the Whore Nobles, those among the aristocracy of Remas who had earned their money – and title – through the sales and purchases of women. Scorned by the other nobles, they all kept to themselves in a fairly isolated part of the city, which only helped them to protect their misdeeds from being exposed to the public. Ferzo had been there many times, and more than once had the sewers been an excellent escape route. He stopped and raised his hand to make the others do the same, speaking “Move silently! This part of the sewers is more trafficked than any other,” before he continued walking, with slower and more elaborate steps than before.

“By humans anyway,” Ferzo mumbled to himself.

The air was chill and smelled foul, like before. Even though the woolen clothes offered only mediocre protection against the cold, drops of sweat still ran down Ferzo’s back. Desperately, he sought to pierce the dark with his eyes and ears. Yet he could hear nothing. Rather calming him down, Ferzo was stressed by this. There are always things in the sewers. Why are they not here? Grimly, the grey man could only think of one explanation: Something truly terrible had scared the small horrors away. With this in his thoughts, he continued to sneak forward, desperately seeking to find that which would break the silence before the storm. He was pleased that the people behind him seemed to realize what peril they were in, moving silently like him, and hopefully making sure nothing would attack the from behind.

To their great shock, the prisoners suddenly saw light appearing in the tunnel, in front of them. Ferzo stopped and listened. Then, when he heard nothing, he continued, and as they got around the first corner, they could see a torch in a holder on the wall by the sidewalk on the opposite side. Right next to it was a great round metal door, which had several marks revealing its frequent use. “I told you this place was trafficked.” Ferzo grinned when he saw the frightened faces behind him. Keeping close attention to the door in case anyone would come out of it, the group continued and were relieved when they passed another corner, away from sight of the previous door. In the passage in front of them several torches were placed along the wall on the opposite side of the tube, but without any doors accompanying them.

With light, Ferzo felt much more confident; it scared away the creatures of the dark, and humans he was not afraid of. He was just about to rise to full height and start walking, when the unmistakable sound of a door opening came booming from the other side of the corner in front of him. Immediately he ducked, almost throwing himself flat on the floor, and turned his head, eyes wide and furious, which gave the other prisoners one clear order: Down! Silence!

The other prisoners quickly ducked like Ferzo and tried to make no sound, listening and watching intently them passage in front of them and behind them. Some were grasping their mediocre weapons, preparing for battle.

Then, appeared, an oily, evil voice:

“Get them in here Borgo, I don’t have time nor passion to stand in this filth all day!” Ferzo’s heartbeat calmed when he heard only two sets of feet walking onto the sidewalk, but only a little. The door was not closed, he noted.

“I’m coming boss. It a bit heavy when there three girls,” an ostentatious voice boomed. “I don’t understand why all killed.”
The oily voice snapped back. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re not boss then, is it Borgo. I told you before: They wouldn’t stop screaming.”
Borgo replied “Well, why not take tongue?”
“They aren’t worth anything without a tongue, you fool. The tongue is worth a fortune.”
“Okay boss. I still think they could live.”
“Not in this world, Borgo. Now throw them so we can leave.”

Soon after, the prisoners could hear the sound of objects being thrown into the brown, stinking river. Ferzo realized the stream would lead the objects past the group, and lay still, intently watching the filthy water. After a few long seconds, the evidence came: Three small bodies, barely four feet tall, came drifting past them. Although the dirt of the sewer was quickly consuming them, Ferzo could still see the untainted colours of pale skin, bright girl’s dresses and blond hair; and blood. Normally, he would be annoyed that the masks of fear and pain were hidden, the small corpses floating face down in the river. Now, he merely felt a small sting of annoyance. They were too young. Such a waste, to kill females before they had developed those delicious curves.

It was not the first time Ferzo had seen corpses floating in the river. Indeed, he had used it himself, even seen the bodies float down the very same stream. His heartbeat was almost back to normal, calmed now knowing that they were only dealing with a whore noble and his bodyguard.

Even so, impatience soon gripped him, and one thought started circulating in Ferzo’s mind:

Why isn’t the door being closed?


OOC: Aaaand we're back, after a long break. I'll leave it up to you to decide what to do here; Ferzo intends to keep quiet. As it is, you don't know if the two men (yes, they are that) are standing in the sewers still or if they returned to whereever they came from, only that door which was opened, has not been closed. As noted before the sidewalk is about one meter broad, in other words broad enough for two people to walk next to eachother. The river running between the sidewalks on each side of the tube is about two meters wide: In other words it's rather difficult to jump across.

You're standing on the left sidewalk facing forwards. The passage is turning to the left some fifty meters in front of you, in other words you're on the "inner" side of the turn.

Pure OOC posts go in the OOC thread. Other than that I won't give a time limit, but we'll have to do something with Cyris' character. Actually, Tuor PMed me asking to join some days ago...I guess he decided he didn't really want to join when he read the RPG. Anyway, if someone wants to take Cyris' character (not you who have one already), that would be great.

[Lethalis]

Sensing inactivity with his fellow travellers, Gustav slowly rose just a bit to peek if anyone was still standing in sight and with all probability earshot. Noticing the door still open, he suddenly had an idea. Turning his head to the others he gave his backpack to the large human who had to carry the rest of his stuff anyway and whispered in his best Tilean:

"Follow my lead, I got this.."

Standing up quickly he walked to the door as dignified as one of short stature in beggar's clothes which stunk from everything that had been dumped in the sewers and never retrieved who had just been told by some elderly person to lay off any booze could, he walked towards the door and proclaimed with a (sort of) booming voice:

"Is there no one competent left in his place? THIS IS NO WAY TO RECEIVE THE RIGHTFUL KING OF THE MOOT!"

[Kithail]

Celeste has been travelling quite nervous not just about the hidden horrors awaiting in every dark corner, but also nervous about the fact that Ferzo was leading them. Nervous and angry, because that would mean she was forced to obey the disgusting man's orders.

Even as disgusting as he could be, he has made sense so far, and Celeste's anger was no impediment to follow Ferzo's instructions when he demanded silence and stealth. After all, these were the sewers. She complied with Ferzo's instructions as soon as the door around the corner was opened, and came down in silence. She was grateful for the adrenaline creek flowing suddenly with heat and cold at the same time through her veins. It dispelles in part the fact that she was reclining in filth, with Ferzo as her close companion.

As soon as the voices started arguing, she quickly recornized one of the accents. That kind of grammar was easily recognized by her talents with different languages. Ogre, or ogre-like, that booming echo, that lack of complicate figures of speech. Ogre, more likely, and as such, extremely dangerous to such a meagre and under armed group as them.

"Ogre...", she whispered to Ferzo, waiting for the others to gather at the position. She wouldn't dare to give further arguments about what to do, and to explain further, as any words could force their discovery by the other party.

She was frankly expecting Ferzo to reach the same conclusion as her. The logical and normal code of behavior now was to wait and let Borgo the Ogre and his Master dissappear after they finished their business. Of course, soon the river of manure brought to her a new angle of approach to the situation.

The estalian outcast wasn't exactly what people could call a "compassionate" being. Her feelings were hidden far beneath a lot of traumas as to have enough empathy as to identify herself easily with the suffering of others. In simple words, Celeste was one of those common Old World citizens who just have seen enough. Then, even for such removed individuals as her, there were limits, even if those were relative limits.

For Celeste, those limits weren't represented by her actual feelings, but by the remembrance of what she could have felt years ago when certain things still mattered. When the bodies of the kids went down flowing in excrement, she didn't feel anything again, but she was still able to remember that once upon a time, this vision could had brought an inmediate, violent, desperate reaction inside her. Of course, the best part about this loss of feelings was that now, she had a new barrier against insanity. No mourns, no anger, no righteous wrath. It happens, cruel and gruesome, yet it happens.

In the name of that reaction, she could had tried to do something to avenge, to exact revenge upon those guilty of this terrible misdeed, in the name of those that like the flowing girls, weren't able to to avaenge themselves anymore. Yet it wasn't worth it. Her heart wasn't alive enough anymore as to contemplate action or reaction. It happens, cruel and gruesome, yet it happens.

They were going to stay here silent, not making any noise, avoiding to be detected, until the pair of monsters who were dumping dead children in the excrement flow leave, so they could continue their nasty trip undetected. It was the right thing to do now. Self preservation was always the right thing. Too bad those poor children didn't have the chance to find out that...It happens, cruel and gruesome, yet it happens.

The estalian fencer was so distracted by her own moral maze that didn't get the first part of "Follow my lead, I got this..." issued by the halfling before he left cover. She only got the booming voice saying "Is there no one competent left in his place? THIS IS NO WAY TO RECEIVE THE RIGHTFUL KING OF THE MOOT!"

The next five or six seconds passed completely without seeing any kind of action by Celeste. She just stood there, her mouth half open, one of her eyebrows completely raised in part disbelief, part perplexity, and her mind, her mind completely in blank due to the extreme stupidity and absurd of the situation in front of her.

[Falsegods]

Cerin did not allow the passage through the sewer, disguising as it was, bother him over much. He instead kept quietly alert, and allowed his mind to wander while still being aware of his surroundings, a skill he had learned long ago. As he and his companions walked through the sewers, he reflected that a sharper mirror of his life just a few months past would be impossible to find. Less than six months ago he had traveled with a host of his kinsmen nearly a thousand strong, whose fluttering banners and proud horns recalled the glorious echo of the days before the Sundering. Now he traveled with this mangy band of criminals and mercenaries, with no other of Asur blood merely humans, and the Halfling. Cerin grimly reflected that his past experiences may well have been reminiscent of the history of his race, and his current situation a possible future for his people.

His gloomy train of thought was doing nothing to help him in his present situation, so he wrenched his mind back to the present. It was fortunate for as he did so the brutal human at the head of their party indicated the need for silence. Cerin with all his experience with stealth made not a sound, and pressed himself down to make the smallest, and therefore least likely object to be spotted in the gloom of the sewer. He wondered what Caleliel would think of him now. But he could not spare but a moment’s thought to his noble friend, as he willed his Elven sight to pierce the darkness.

His success when it came was a mixed blessing. The murdered corpses of the human girls was not a sight he sought. ‘If Ulthuan falls is this is want to be expected of the rest of the world?’ He asked himself silently. A question he hoped never to find the answer to, he decided and the he and the other crouched in silence. His left hand wrapped itself around the hilt of the long hunting knife the odd human noble had seen fit to give him. It was a poor weapon in compared to the sword he once carried but it would have to do if it cam to blows, the spear he carried was to bulk for use in such a confined space.

Despite what he knew these people had done, he did not wish to fight them. That was not their task, and as much as he wished revenge for the murdered children that has floated by his father had instilled enough pragmatism to know that to try and case down every injustice in this world was foolish. So he crouched and waited for the danger to pass. from the corner of his eye he saw the Halfling move and then to his distress the little beings voice thundered in the narrow confines of the sewer. He gripped the haft of his spear and the hilt of his knife tightly as in shock and little creature’s actions.

[Andruillius]

Blasted halfling, may he burn in the depths of hell! Ferzo had not been able to grab the halfling as he snuck past, much less muffled him before he made his presence clear to anyone in several hundred meters' reach. Now all their subtlety had been in vain; Ferzo was confident the two people around the corner would have left The Sewers, as not even the most murderous nobles spent more than a minimum of time in here. Now it was only question of whether the halfling would reveal them all, and who he would be killed by, whomever he ran into or Ferzo himself. I hope I will see his body floating in the river, Ferzo thought grimly. A thought struck him and he turned his head immediately, looking at the rest of the people behind him. He hoped they could read his mind, and were discouraged from following Gustav's example. I will murder any one of you who walks past me.


It was not an ogre that stood surprised and confused in front of Gustav as he strutted around the corner, shouting "THIS IS NO WAY TO RECEIVE THE RIGHTFUL KING OF THE MOOT!" Instead it was a tower of a man, taller and bulkier than Norau, with dark, leathery skin and a mean-looking scar just above the left eye. Borgo's face reminded Gustav of orcs, and thick, curly black hair ran over Borgo's entire body, appearing as a jungle on his arms where the short-sleeved grey tunic stopped.

Next to the huge man was a much smaller figure, dressed in bright yellow and purple, of finest silk quality, and carrying a two foot long stick made out of ivory and covered with gold and jewels. This made him look rather comical, but there was nothing funny about his face, which sported a flamboyant and well-groomed moustache. "The boss" looked at the halfling with a suspicious, annoyed look, almost hiding his obvious relief that the unknown threat had revealed itself as very small.


Borgo took one step towards Gustav, and the halfling felt faint tremors going through the ground as the man put his foot down. The hairy man carried no visible weapons, other than his two giant fists, which he closed and relaxed, tilting his head slightly to one side with a curious look on the little fellow.

"What's a king doing down in Sewers?" he asked Gustav. "Don't you got castles and gold up with rich nobles?"

The boss rolled his eyes as Borgo asked his two questions, and stepped forward, next to the big man, but keeping himself a step behind. When he opened his mouth, his tone was sarcastic, and Gustav could feel the words almost like a snake pouring down his throat.

"So, you are the king of The Moot, eh? We don't have many representatives from the halfling aristocracy around here; certainly not in The Sewers. Pray, tell me, king, can you prove you are what you represent yourself as? And why are barging in here, minding other people's business?"

The comically-clothed man's thin eyebrows were furrowing deeper and deeper, and Gustav realised he had little time before "the boss" would send his big watchdog at the intruder - and witness.


OOC: Well, you can let Gustav continue the dialogue, or try to intervene in a way you find suitable.

[Illidan Hellforge]

Norau didn't have trouble being silent; it was natural for him to. And as long as he didn't have heavy armour or plating on the northerner could keep himself pretty quiet. The light or voices didn't startle him and he tried his best staying low to the ground, but it was obviously difficult for the muscular tower to keep himself hidden.

As the young girls then floated by Norau face was stern but calm, apart from an eye twitch that betrayed there was more going on in the man. Inside his head he was fuming with anger and rage; his fists clenched shut tightly, able to crush anything that would be in his hands. Seeing innocent lives wasted either through corruption, death or other means was one of things he hated most, and he felt like barging forward and throwing the culprits in with them.

Before he could continue his train of thought the halfling's bag showed up in front of him and the little one apparently had a plan. Norau had his doubts but before he had a chance to stop him Gustav's voice already made its way through the whole of the sewers. Norau sighed; looked like he would be fighting after all, then.

Turning to Adriana behind him the northerner gave a light smile as he placed his hand gently on her shoulder while giving Gustav's bag with the other. Grabbing his axe he then pointed her towards Cerin; he didn't want to involve her in a fight with an adversary that sounded like a bear of a man, and the Elf seemed like one of the most trustworthy here.

Giving the Elf a small nod the white-haired man was sure his intent was understood and he then moved forwards, and as he passed Ferzo he gave the man a shrug. Everything knew they were there now and it was better to prepare for an upcoming fight, as he was not prepared to lose their only cook on this mission. Ferzo was a raving maniac, and it was clear he didn't want anyone else to walk forward, but Norau would crush him if he wanted to do anything harmful to him.

Near the the edge of the corner Norau then leaned into the wall casually gripping the woodsmen's axe and examining it. It was meant for chopping trees of course but it was sturdy, and with the proper strength behind it he would be able to inflict some hefty cleaves into an opponent, shattering bone or tearing muscles along with it.

He kept his ears sharp to hear what was going on around the corner, and thanks to the light they were carrying he would be able to spot them if they came close to turning the corner; anything larger than Gustav would get a chop. The northerner usually had a hack first, then hack again policy for shady characters like that, and he saw no reason to act differently here.

[Prince_Asuryan]

Pointingly ignoring the bodies that floated passed him, Matthias tried to keep his attention on being quite and not drawing attention to the party.

Crouched in the shadows next to the wall as the halfling passed by him, he winced as the dimiuative man rounded the corner and began shouting at the two figures. Matthias knew these sorts of robbers and bandits from his earlier life back home, and was sure that if they did not beileve the halfling, they would surely search for the rest of the band as well. The fire wizard was hunched behind Ferzo, and watched as the giant northener moved forwards to try and help Gustav. Sighing, Matthias slowly stood and followed, again pointedly ignoring the glares the Ferzo gave him. If it came to a fight, the wizard would be needed to help deal with the ogre. Drawing up alongside Norau, he looked at the puzzled man and motioned that the northerner should go first.

OOC: Matthias will wait for Norau to attack, and then support him.

[Kithail]

Well, it is going to happen, even if I don't like it to happen, thought Celeste as her mind raced to the simplest of conclusions watching Norau advance, and the Halfling standing in front of the two men. She knew that Norau wasn't a man of standing idle around, and if he moved, was because he had the urge to crush and smash someone's head.

Not that Celeste was willing to stop him anyway. Whoever threw three innocents girls into a manure river deserved to be dealt even more painfully than just the quick merciful seconds of suffering Norau's strenght was going to give them.

Reacting as soon as she could, she moved to the right of Norau, just a step behind him as to get some sight cover from the shadow of the big frame of the northerner. She knew who her target was going to be. Not the big bodyguard, that was someone better reserved to the likes of Vincent, Norau, or Cerin. Actually, she was quite sure that between the three of them they could secure the simple bodyguard, even if it was a half ogre or something.

But the noble master, oh, that would be hers to capture. The owner of the oily voice. As soon as the action starts, she would try to advance and grab him to subdue him. Of course, that had to wait until that Brogo thing had his hands full with a lot of Norau.

[Falsegods]

Cerin understood what the human was about to do, and he agreed that the large man was best suited for the battlefield they found themselves in. But part of him was galled by being subordinated to a human. None the less he had traveled the path of war to long not to understand what needed to be done. He nodded back to human, accept his command of the situation for the moment.

With Norau, Matthias and Ferzo between him and their would be opponents Cerin had few options. He shifted his grip from his knife to a two handed grip on the spear, it was bulky weapon but if he remembered even part of his old skills with the weapon and a little luck he should be able to use the weapon’s reach to support his human comrades.

[Lethalis]

Defiantly the halfling stared at the two men, in particular the one who asked him the last question. His familiarity with shady figures in the past had bereft him of fear in this situation, wise and welcome as it would have been.

"I am not surprised, ever since the usurper Emperors have laid eyes on my lands my line has been threatened and exiled! Forced we have been, to move quietly and away from prying eyes who would do injustice on us. Yet for all that, the blessing has been that I have come to meet people who share my... values and insight. I have become more of a man of the people, some might say, and I've shared a variety of companions on my travels. But let's make this clear, I take these routes because I have, not because I like to!"

He hoped that the half truth in there shone through his eyes as he continued his bluff.

"Now, I have connections in untold places you could only dream of, until now that is. This is your chance to earn my favour, and when I get back my place in the Moot rightful and proper, I'll not have forgotten good deeds. Choose carefully now, because there's no telling how much of an army a king can bring if his stomach is not full, as we say!"

Gustav tries to inspire a little less hostility into the two thugs in front of him, convincing them that they're on the same side (Socialising, 2 [5]). If he's attacked, he'll use Sprint, 2 (5) instead.