Chapter 3 - Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger

[BigRedRod]

What is evil? So many are quick to point out the beasts that lurk at the fringes of the world. Can such creatures really be evil? If their predisposition is to do wrong then are they truely evil? No. To do evil, to be evil, the creature much choose. That is the true nature of evil. To knowingly do wrong with an understanding one's actions and the consquences associated with them.
Amrod Inglorion - Of Ethics


An hour or so before dawn the storm suddenly ends. The silence is near deafening but eventually the sounds of the river come back into focus. The black clouds dominating the sky are no more, instead there is a general rapidly vanishing greyness set atop a sheet of black night. The promise of a clear day to come.

Birds begin their song and Daison, thoroughly soaked through, adjusts his position and ensures that there is nothing to be seen in any direction outside the little burst of vegetation which currently contains a makeshift tent and the survivors of the ruin expedition.

The river has become a raging torrent at least twice as wide as it had been as a result of the hours of constant rain. Fortunately Bollan chose the campsite well, an area with cover and a steep bank so that already the ground is a mess of mud they aren't in the middle of a river.

In the east there is the faintest hint of dawn, a little lightness in the bluish grey of the night. Daison's eyes can no longer make out anything of the other campsite.

Behind the noble, the rest of the survivors begin to stir. Sore as they were from the punishment of the previous day, they had rested long enough.

[Dev]

Wet ... hungry ... dirty ... ... uncivilized!

Daison finishes his solemn survey of the surroundings, takes a few steps towards the embankment facing the river, and collapses into a sitting position with a sigh. With his back to the rising sun, he frowns westward, towards the darkness ... towards Gomorrah. No one else had risen yet. There would be no one to stop him. He could start off on foot and be back in decent quarters within a week.

Another sigh. A week? On foot? Now that the opportunity lay before him, Daison realizes just how dependent he's become on the ruffians that have begun to awaken nearby. He makes a mental note to find a way to change this as soon as possible. In the meantime...

He grabs for his pack and warily pulls out the ornate spellbook from inside. The cover is damp, and some of the pages, but the magical enscriptions would be perfectly preserved. One last sigh, and then the nobleman begins his incantations in a bored monotone.

... starting with prestidigitation. I would never hear the end of it if my family saw my robes like this.

[Tamarind]

Stretching stiff muscles Sevilin rises, shaking out the cloak he'd wrapped himself in against the cold. He nods to Daison but doesn't interrupt his study, instead busying himself kindling a discreet cookfire. Balancing a small pot over the flames he sets about boiling some water into which he throws a handful of herbs.

A few minutes pass, then a faint scent of mint begins to tickle at the noses of those nearby. Smiling he reaches out some rather battered looking mugs and pours some of the brew into each. Moving over to where Daison sits reading he holds out one of the tankards,

"Tea?"

[Dev]

Halfway through casting magic missile, Daison stumbles over one of the phrasings and closes his eyes. Yet another sigh.

"Not unless it's Dor Blossom."

He blinks his eyes, refocuses back to the top of the page, and the mindless droning begins again.

[Tamarind]

Sevilin shrugs and moves back to the makeshift tent where the others are stirring, sipping the hot tea to restore warmth to his aching body.

[Thanos]

Bollan has taken a bit longer than normal to get up and greet the morning. His yawning can be well heard from beneath the blanket he pulled between two small trees. The clank and bang of armor is heard and it seems that he is doing some small repairs to his armor, while trying not to have his side open up again.

[chalice]

"Bollan - wait. Let me help before you go on with that."

Inyx looks pale and bedraggled after the uncomfortable night, but there's a calmness about her that was missing the evening before as she lays gentle hands on the ex-gladiator's wounds and bows her head in prayer to Lileth.

The feeling of warmth and well-being that washes over Bollan is markedly more powerful than his experience of her earlier healings - by the time Inyx ceases her prayers, not a trace remains of his wounds.

After resting a moment, Inyx repeats the procedure with Sevilin, and he too finds himself fully healed.

"Did you say 'tea'?" the cleric asks hopefully. "And has anyone fed the prisoners?"

[Tamarind]

Sevilin smiles and stretches as the pain and stiffness fly from his muscles,

"Indeed I did - here, though it's poor reward for such a fine service"

[chalice]

Inyx accepts a cup and sinks gratefully to sit cross-leghged on the floor, cradlign the mug between her hands.

"There'll be little more of such service until I'm rested again, I'm afraid."

[Thanos]

"My thanks none the less and for your valor in battle. I know a few gladiators that would not have stood behind me in the face of that Ogre!"

Bollan smiles and goes back to his work.

[Tamarind]

"Then you should rest - I can return to the entrance , see if anything has changed since last night and report back, then we can venture within when we are fully prepared."

He picks up his bow and buckles his swordbelt round his waist

"I shouldn't be more than half an hour"

So saying he moves off, quickly blending into the vegetation as he heads back to the entrance alert for sight or sound of anything untoward.

[BigRedRod]

Softly padding out of the copse, Sevilin does his best to pick a route through the open ground which would hide him from any sentries that the enemy might have posted.

It doesn't take long before the scout sees something very obviously amiss. The camp is gone. All that remains of the site chosen for the ruin expedition camp has been erased (aside from a few blackened areas of grass which were Sevilin's own doing). No bodies. No tents. No carts. Nothing. As if the massacre of yesterday was little more than a dream.

Turning to climb the steep slope leading up to the hole in the ruin roof which served as an entrance for the brief expedition, Sevilin can make out little of use. The relentless storm does seem to have further widened the gap however, casting serious doubts on the stability of the structure as a whole. Peering inwards under the near-dawn light, the dragon-blooded ranger can just make out the wet stone of the room below.

Scanning carefully around from his position crouched over the hole, Sevilin can see no sign of the mysterious enemy, nor of any of his team-mates.

[Tamarind]

Damned storm, no tracks would have survived that. On the other hand nothing has passed this way since over the soft ground either...so whoever took the stuff did it at latest during the storm last night but where did they take it all? Into the ruin? Back north where those things came from?

With no tracks to be found at the camp or the first entrance Sevilin circles round to the doorway they exited through to see if there's more luck there, en route a thought occurs and he increases his pace

Gods! The prisoners!

[BigRedRod]

Retreating from the hole in the flat hilltop which covers the now submerged remains of the vast Ehb structure, Sevilin returns to the river side and the narrow piece of heavily shrubbed land which would lead him toward the hidden doorway into the ruin.

Here and there he spots muddy boot prints in spots which were sheltered from the brunt of the storm by the vegetation.. Boot prints from the strange armoured things. Of this, Sevilin is sure. At some point during the night, the rest of the squad of things found the doorway, further details are hard to gather from the limited clues.

The spot where the party left the captives behind, bound as they were, is now mostly submerged by the storm-fed river. The quick waters have also swept away most of the signs that Sevilin would normally depend on in the subtle art of tracking.

Doing his best to avoid splashing the shallow waters of burst river, Sevilin moves carefully through the small grove of trees surrounding the double doors of the ruin. The bases of their trunks are now obscured by almost an inch of muddy river water. In a few hours at most the waters will have receded and the bank plant life will find themselves sat in a rich silt.

With the dawn still in the process of arriving and the Jezrit strips of the interior not having been activated, Sevilin makes out no movement in the gloom of the ruin. Aside from the morning birds and the gurgling of the flooded river, there is no sound. Both the captives and the warriors with their liquid metal weapons and strange carapace-like armour are gone.

[Tamarind]

For a brief moment Sevilin feels a pang of guilt as he envisions the bound captives facing the horrors. Shaking his head he surveys the scene, then with nothing further to be learnt quickly he heads back to the new camp by the most direct route.

[BigRedRod]

It is hard for the ranger to avoid leaving a trail of muddy imprints on the near-swamp that much of the area has become as he returns to his party's hidden campsite. On the horizon the sun is rapidly climbs upwards, now more than half free of the earth it'll shining down upon the world of Dagern very shortly. It'll be a good few hours before anything manages to dry though.

The rest of the party spotted Sevilin before he managed to get too close to the shaded copse, even the guildsman had abandoned his books to look out upon the damp scene.

Safely back in one group, all can breathe a sigh of relief, but Sevilin bears grim news and it is quickly told. With the chain of command broken, the Guildsman's shoulders sag and he stares upwards through the branches and leaves toward the sky. After several minutes of watching the colour slowly return to the world blankly, his masked face distorts slightly as his lips start to move and he manages a few quiet words,
"It's all gone? Then... we must return to Gomorrah. I have to inform the guild."
Through the black and red silk mask, the Guildsman looks down at the armful of books he saw to rescue before the hasty abandonment of the original camp.

[Tamarind]

Sevilin looks up sharply,

"That's a little hasty don't you think? We don't know what happened to the others, they could still be in there...we should at least try to find out surely?"

[Thanos]

"While I don't really want to go back in there if there are four of those things waiting, I would have to agree that attempting to find them would be at least a prudent course of action."

[BigRedRod]

The mask distorts as the Guildsman replies in a weak voice,
"The Guildsman Superior would not venture into the ruin himself. The camp is gone... but perhaps."

Looking down at the book bag, the man hesitates, during routine work in the ruin the man had shown poor leadership of his assigned team. Now the events were anything but routine and rather than rise to the occasion he seems unable to do anything but flounder uselessly,
"Guild Xerxes has been directly attacked. I recovered some of the more pertinent pieces of information brought along but... I should have taken it all. It's all gone wrong."

His gloved hands clench into fists and his voice begins to tremble with rage rather than fear,
"Attacking a guild. Attacking Xerxes. It is madness. We have to get back. But we should return with as much as possible."

Finally he nods assent and coughs, his tone of voice finally returning to something more appropriate for a man of his position,
"We should return. You are right. If they are waiting then we must flee. The previous thing was damaged when we met it, I don't think we could stand against as many as four, it'd be suicide."

Despite managing to regain his composure, he turns his masked gaze upon the party as if awaiting further instructions.

[Tamarind]

As the masked man floundered Sevilin's impatience grew, with an effort though he kept it in check, nodding tersely at the final suggestion

"We go as far as we can safely go, find out what we can then get out with any survivors - you're right, four of those at once would be more than a challenge"

[chalice]

"That sounds reasonable," Inyx says in her gentle voice. "We will serve no one by committing suicide; but at least some attempt to serach for survivors is our duty."

She smiles comfortingly at the Guildsman. "And it will help us to report as fully as possible to the Guild on our return."

[Dev]

After blurting out the penultimate phrases of his incantation with increasing conviction, Daison punctuates the cadence of verbal monotony by slamming shut the cover of his spellbook. And with that, he looks up at the others with a look of lassitude.

"So far as the gentleman promises our return to the city comes next, a simple look about should be just that. Let's make it quick."

[BigRedRod]

Skirting along the flooded bank, the party make their way back toward what was once the main door to the Ehb structure. Touching the Jezrit strips on the walls, the gloom of the long abandoned ruin is dispelled. The previous day had seen a vicious battle in the very entrance hall in which the party now stand.

Now, only a few lingering clues remain. The crumbling walls and piles of rubble created by Leadbelcher, the ogre and a good amount of blood-stained stone. The remains of the group led by the two-headed orc, Gurun, are no more. No bodies. No body parts. Just a few stains and broken rocks.

Of the mysterious armoured enemy, the prisoners taken from Gurun's band or the missing half of the ruin explorers, there remains no sign at all.

[Tamarind]

Sevilin looks about him, his expression grim,

"Looks like they made it this far - their tracks went in at the other entrance, if they've been here then I guess they've covered the place. I still think we should look though, just in case someone managed to hide from them - they're not infallible, we know that at least."

He glances suddenly at the guildsman,

"Those horrors didn't come from here - they came from the north. How did they know we were here? How many knew these ruins were where we were headed?"

[Dev]

"It's a pinch conceited to assume the ... the ... the things were coming for us, isn't it?" Daison quirks an eyebrow at Sevilin, his tone thick with something like admonishment ... conceit, perhaps.

[BigRedRod]

The Guildsman answers Sevilin's question in a quiet voice,
"Only the Guild. Nobody else knows."
He gestures absently,
"Not even you knew the location until we got here. We just advertise that we need certain skills, we never give a location. Never."

As an afterthought, he adds,
"Either somebody followed our wagons from Gomorrah or we just got in the way."

[Tamarind]

Sevilin nods glumly,

"I don't suppose you have any idea what those things were - or who could have sent them?"

[BigRedRod]

Sevilin's question seems to do little but push the Guildsman further down into his own personal pit of confusion and loss.
"Men once, I think. I don't know. Their weapons were... I don't know. I have never heard of this happening before. It just isn't possible."

[Tamarind]

The ranger shrugs at Daison's comment,

"Maybe, they do seem to have gone to a lot of trouble to get rid of us and any sign we were here though - and they followed the other group into the ruins too. Could be a coincidence - we could just have been in the way - but it seems odd that they arrived so soon after we did. Maybe we'll find some answers inside..."

Drawing his longsword he steps forward, looking about warily as he sets off into the structure, this time Re remains perched on his shoulder as he ventures within

I won't leave you behind this time little one...

[BigRedRod]

Leading the party, Sevilin travels deeper into the ruin. Struck by a terrible stench, the party see that the giant spider's body remains impaled upon an iron spike in the room with the collapsed ceiling. Clearly not everything was seen fit to remove.

Climbing upwards to the floor above, the party are greeted by silent, empty corridors. Once or twice a shadow flitters at the edge of vision, but these are nothing but false alarms. Of the rest of the Guildsmen and their hirelings there is no sign. Nor is there any sign of Ghola, living or dead.

Progressing to the second floor from the top of the ruin, the party stumble across what must have been the last stand of the explorers yesterday. The doors to two of the Ehb sleeping quarters stand open and between them in the corridors the stone is stained a deep, nearly uniform, crimson. The rooms themselves have flecks of ingrained gore which must've proved too much trouble to remove for the mysterious foes.

Perhaps there were survivors, but the remaining stains seem to tell little in the way of a tale.

[Thanos]

Bollan looks at the blood and gore stains and through his experience in the ring, having seen a lot of it, tries to estimate how many died or lost a lot of blood.

[Tamarind]

Sevilin looks bleakly at the stained corridor and the rooms beyond, picturing the likely battle

A valiant last stand...much good that it did them. I'm going to find those responsible and make them pay. Oh yes.

"Bastards. Soulless bastards."

A grim resolution in his eyes he moves through the area, making an effort to see if there are any signs the creatures might have missed in their cleanup even though he expects nothing,

[BigRedRod]

Although careful, the cleanup of the area is far from complete. Here and there a lump of unidentifiable gore sits atop a section of heavily stained stone. It seems that after the attack, anything that could be dragged or carried away by hand was removed and everything else, mainly blood, was left behind.

Bollan crouches beside a pair of still wet, long bloody streaks up one of the walls. Looking carefully at the pattern it is hard to determine very much at all, there certainly was a battle and he'd bet coin on there being fatalities, but as for numbers, there simply isn't enough information. What he does notice about the scene is that there seem to have been relatively few strokes exchanged. Quite what this means however, is purely speculation.

Sevilin finds himself struck by another feature of the bloodied area. Although the blood has seeped into the stone of the corridor overnight, it bears a distinctive trail. The ranger quickly reaches the conclusion that the bodies were dragged away shortly after the battle and given the direction of the smears it appears they were taken out of the hole in the roof through which the party had originally entered the long abandoned structure.

[Tamarind]

Sevilin looks up from puzzling over the marks,

"They dragged them out this way - the bodies that is - I guess they went out the roof way. But where did they go then? They took an entire camp, plus several bodies, and carried it all away in a night, on foot? Four of them?"

He shakes his head,

"Either they had some magic to aid them...or someone nearby with carts to haul the stuff away. Someone who gave them their orders most likely - they didn't seem that bright to me. Whichever there seems little enough we can do here - I guess we head back out, gather some foodstuffs and set off back..."

[Thanos]

Bollan doesn't have much he can say and just nods and does what is needed to head out.

[chalice]

Inyx does not join in the search, choosing instead to mumur prayers for those who fell here. The cleric's face looks pale and strained in the gloom, and she seems huddled into herself somehow.

At mention of leaving, she brings her prayerful murmurings to a close.

"Why in the pits of hell did they take the bodies?" she mutters, the faintest spark of curiosity flaring back to life in her uptilted golden eyes. "To build more of them?"

Then she gives herself a shake.

"Let's get out of here. I for one need to breathe clean air again."

[Dev]

Daison also did little to help the search, mostly because after taking one look at the carnage, his gastro-intestinal system was completely incapacitated. The swift sound of bile hitting the floor is only made sweeter from the fact that it's coming from the party's best-dressed. When the others move to leave, the mage gives an embarrassed glance and winces weakly: "Watch your step."

[BigRedRod]

Being so close to the hole at the top of the ruin, the party leave the site of the last stand behind. Every so often a bloody smear on the floor or a wall reminds them that of their companions' fate. Thankfully there is not a sign of any of the twisted Ghola or any of the oversized vermin that had a penchant for lurking in the gloom.

The storm damage to the hole in the flat stone roof makes it an easier task to climb out atop the hill. The freshness of the air comes as something of a shock compared to the lingering putrid stench of death haunting the stone corridors.

Looking to the east, toward the former location of the campsite, the morning light spreads across the glistening wet land like honey. Hours earlier the foul warriors had butchered nearly a dozen men leaving only a single young Guildsman and four guardians, the beautiful morning hardly seems fair in comparison. For most people today was just another day.

[Tamarind]

Sevilin looks out over the landscape, thinking back to the start of the exploration - the excitement, the promise of adventure...things had worked out very differently.

Wonder if this is what it was really like in all those heroic stories people used to tell...

Letting Re stretch his wings, with a warning not to stray out of sight, he turns to the others,

"So. I guess there's really nothing left here for us now. As I see it we've two paths - head east back to Gomorrah and see if the Guild has any clue what the hell's going on or try and pick up the trail of these things to the north and follow after. My feeling is someone gave those things very specific orders, something like 'Go to the camp - kill everyone there, clear it away. Go to the ruins, kill everyone, clear all traces away'. That would explain why they didn't try and search for the one we killed, or try to find whoever did it. If that's true then it's likely whoever's giving the orders will have thought about trying to mop up survivors - heading back to the city's the predictable move, if someone's trying to wipe out all traces of this expedition they'll probably be watching the main paths but we could well sneak past them if we stay off the roads and go cross-country. Following after is less likely to be expected but almost certainly more risky - it's also more likely to give us some insight into who's behind those bastards."

He looks around,

"What do you think?"

[Thanos]

"I am for tracking them down, but there is still the problem of fighting those things. Just one was a tough challenge for us although our divine and mystic powers were not fully charged. Taking two of the things is likely within our ability without to heavy of losses, but taking on any more than that would be suicide. What do we do if there are more?"

[Dev]

"Hold right there. We're speaking of creatures that obliterated the camp, caused that ... that ... massacre below, and you expect me to follow after them? I thought it was already agreed that we'd simply take a look and thereafter depart for the city. I've strayed plenty far from the job description already."

[Tamarind]

Sevilin listens to Bollan and Daison then sighs,

"It's a tough choice. I don't think we could take four of them at once either but I dohave this uneasy feeling that whoever sent these things wants to wipe out all traces of our expedition, they've gone to a lot of effort so far so it seems unlikely they wouldn't have considered the possibility of stragglers or survivors...I mean, if you were planning this wouldn't you put someone to watching the main routes back to the city to catch strays? Particularly when one of your 'things' fails to come back?"

He shrugs,

"I don't know, I don't have all the answers. I guess I'm just saying heading back to the city may not be the safest course..."

[chalice]

"Tracking them down before we know how to deal with them sounds like an invitation to an early grave," Inyx opines quietly. "If we could get back to the Guild, wouldn't they offer the best chance of getting more information about these things?"

[BigRedRod]

"Maybe. I don't know anymore. I've never heard of anything like those things. We can go back and that they do... but it might be a trap. And if we look for them then what will we do if we do find them? But going back without knowing what they are... I just don't know."

The masked man places his hands on the top of his head as if trying to contain his own thoughts,
"This isn't my job. I just research the Ehb. I shouldn't have signed up for this, I don't know what to do and nobody else is left. What am I going to say when I get back? If I get back... Maybe I shouldn't go back at all?"

His voice fades to a vague mumbling and he hunches down on the ground, clearly being asked to make a decision in these circumstances is all a bit much for him.

[Tamarind]

Sevilin takes a deep breath, resisting the urge to do something regrettable to the masked figure

"We should make a move, the longer we stay here the more likely they'll come back and find us. You're right Inyx, knowing more about these things would really help, if we can find that in the city that would be great - I guess even if not we should still go and let the guild know what happened to the others..."

he hesitates, thinking back to the signs of the massacre below, then continues briskly,

"The ground between here and the city is pretty open but I might be able to find a route that keeps us out of sight for at least some of the way, and open ground works both ways - if they do come after us we should have a good chance of seeing them first."

He adjusts the straps on his pack and settles it more comfortably over his shoulders,

"So. Back to the camp, pack things up and head out - the quicker we're away the harder it'll be to find us".

[Thanos]

Bollan goes over to the Guildsman and lifts him up by the arms and starts carrying him back to the camp. When the guildsman comes out of his stuper Bollan will put him back on his feet and guide him where he needs to go.

Too much responsibility, too little time, and seemingly no training whatsoever....Tempus Help Us!

[BigRedRod]

It doesn't take long to return to the hidden campsite beside the river. While the rest of the part pack away the makeshift tents, the Guildsman stares out at the water.

...

The warm day after the flood of the previous night has attracted great swarms of buzzing insects which seem very interested in the party. After swatting away flies for some time, the group eventually reach the well trodden road which leads the way back west to Gomorrah city.

Travelling by road away from the river is positively enjoyable. The solid earth under foot and clearer air even manages to restore some semblance of life to the Guildsman.

Still the threat of the armoured fiends with their bizarre swords is not forgotten, at least not by the keen senses of Sevilin and Re. On more than one occasion the draconic rangers stops in his tracks to peer cautiously at a distant hill, drystone wall or some other innocuous feature of the landscape.

Around midday stomachs have started to rumble, the supplies taken from the Guild camp the night before the storm are now exhausted. Entering into a small wood surrounding a muddy section of the wide road, the party increase their pace. If the enemy had managed had made better time and predicted the route taken by the survivor's the expedition massacre, this is where the ambush would take place.

For a whole ten minutes nobody seems to take a breath and hands fall to weapons. Every strange pattern by the sunlight falling through the leafy trees looks like some horrible beast, each gust of wind rustling leaves and twisting branches is the enemy pushing between the trees.

Emerging back into the warm summer's day a sigh of relief washes across the group. Those things were either not following the group or far enough behind to ensure safety in the immediate future.

The sun shows few signs of being ready to descend below the horizon when the group start looking for a place to make camp. The road follows the path of a small ridge looking down on acres of farmland spreading out in all directions. The crops are high and healthy.

Clearly recognising the sight, the Guildsman suggests that there is a small market town somewhere further down the road and that they should continue onwards to be sure of a good meal and perhaps some horses for the journey tomorrow.

Walking with renewed vigour, the town quickly comes into view. A collection of small buildings with cream plastered walls and slate roofs around a cobbled market square. Dominating the scene is a large country manor built on the hillside as to look over the clearly prosperous town.

It comes as quite a surprise when a small figure bursts out of the shrubs beside the road. A girl of perhaps six or seven years in what clearly used to be an expensive green dress but is now a wet, muddy thing covered in leaves.

The girl hesitates as she spots the party on the path in front of her, tears streaming down her face. The sound of hoof beats, however, helps her make her decision. She rushes toward the party, sobbing and shouting,
"Help. Help. Please."

[Tamarind]

Without hesitating Sevilin runs forward, putting himself between the girl and the sounds of her assumed pursuers. Drawing his swords he faces the direction of the oncoming hoofbeats...

[chalice]

Inyx steps toward the girl, holding out her arms, ready to lift the child up or cuddle her.

"Hush, sweetheart, it will be all right...come now..." her gentle voice flows on, reassuring and warm, saying nothing in particular, trying to draw the sobbing girl to her. "You shall have help, little one, never fear."

[Dev]

With a large sigh of relief, Daison sees the town ahead and lets his pack fall from his shoulder to the ground as soon as the party stops. He doesn't particularly care why, but when Inyx starts talking in her soothing motherly tone, his attention turns quickly.

Blinking warily from her to Sevilin: "What are you doing?"

[Thanos]

Bollan's clunking and clinking can't exactly go unnoticed by whomever is going to be riding up. He drawing the massive length of steel from over his shoulder which should give even an armored knight with a lance pause before charging in.

[BigRedRod]

The girl doesn't hesitate in accepting the comfort of Inyx's arms while the sound of pounding hoof beats grows larger and a pair of impressive brown horses emerge from a sweeping deep in the road which managed so far to hide them from the party. Each of the horses bears a single rider, who at the sight of the figures clustered around the girl pull hard on their reigns and quickly dismount.

Standing before the party one of the men calls out in relief,
"Oh bless you, travellers. Thank Lilleth f-"
His words stop as he notices Sevilin and Bollan's drawn weapons, slowly he raises his own hands into the air far away from the short sword hanging at his own hip. The man is tall and well built but a little past his middle years with his short brown hair greying at the temples. Oddly he doesn't seem dressed for riding, having no cloak and only soft walking boots.

Also lifting his arms his companion is equally ill-equipped clearly wearing clothes suitable for working a forge rather than armed pursuit. The smith is shorter than his companion although equally muscular and with leathery skin which is covered in soot.

Each man has a crossbow strapped to their saddle, although these weapons are now well out of reach.
"Okay, everybody take a deep breath and stop point swords about. We aren't looking for any trouble, like."
At the smith's words, Inyx can feel the small girl clutch tighter around her,
"Molly there had just got herself a bit frightened and confused."

The smith's companion pipes in again,
"You've gone and got the whole village out looking for you, you have, Molly. Gave us a right scare you did."

[Thanos]

Bollan will lower his weapon, but not put it away keeping it easily accessible with its point on his boot. Looking around he checks out the rest of the countryside for anybody else that might have a crossbow and might be lurking somewhere.

[Tamarind]

Sevilin looks at them coolly, his blades remaining exactly where they were. Something about these two sat uneasily with him, especially with the girls reaction...

"The little girl seems very upset. Suppose you take a minute to tell us exactly what's going on here?"

As he speaks he glances briefly behind him, taking in the little girl's consternation and her tightening grip on Inyx.

[BigRedRod]

The taller man smiles clearly attempting to reassure Sevilin while hiding his own nervousness,
"The young lady clutching your friend's leg is Molly Hardin, only daughter of the Lord and Lady Hardin."
He waves an arm towards the village below,
"This is Hardinplatz, their domain. Away from the village it can be a little... dangerous. Especially for a little one like Molly, out here all by herself. She was taking a walk with the Lady of Hardinplatz and well she..."
He pauses, seemingly embarrassed to go on.

Only allowing for a brief pause, the smith continues
"The Lady is not well as of late, she has the odd turn, like, and well she had one while she was out with the little 'un. One of the manor groundsmen saw her lying on the ground and... Well Molly had gone! So everybody who had an 'orse went looking for her. We didn't know what had happened."

Looking over his shoulder, he adds,
"We should be getting back. You should come with us. they'll want to see the faces of the folk who found their daughter, so they will. And a Guildsman!"

Clearly having been focused on the drawn steel previously, both of the men now see the masked figure standing among the group, the taller gives a short bow,
"Well it's a an honour, mi'lord. Will you be paying our humble village a visit? I understand that one such as yourself might been too busy. I'm sure that the Lord would understand."

Straightening a little after having been recognised, the silk mask shifts slightly and he glances sideways at the party as if seeking approval before accepting the invitation.

[Dev]

"Please!" Daison nonchalantly steps right in front of the Guildsman, a plastic smile having grown widely on his face. His arms fan out slightly, either in a gesture of greeting, or (more likely) to display the fine make of his robes and jewelry, wet and muddy though they may be. "Why, the noble people of my country find it positively disgraceful to ignore such humble hospitality. I would deeply regret missing the chance to meet with his Lordship, and I'm sure he feels likewise."

His plastic expression takes on some metal as it swings slowly to those with blades drawn. "Don't you agree?"

[Thanos]

Bollan grunts and puts his sword back in its sheeth before turning and taking up his marching position in the party.

If its not one thing its another, isn't....but its better than facing death every day...

[Tamarind]

"Not really, never been that interested in nobility. Still, if it makes you happy..."

Sevilin turns his back on Daison and the two newcomers as he sheathes his blades and crouches down next to the little girl,

"What do you think little one, do you want to go back?"

In a near whisper, that only the little girl and Inyx could probably hear he adds,

"We won't let anyone hurt you - and on the way you can tell Inyx here what really happened."

[chalice]

Inyx underlines Sevilin's speech with a comforting hug of the child. "Could you do that, sweetheart? Tell me your story quietly, like a big girl?"

Gently, she brushes back the girls dishevelled hair from her mud-streaked face. "How about I clean off some of this mud, hm? I have a feeling there might be a real beautiful little girl hiding underneath..."

[BigRedRod]

With a resolute nod, Molly allows Inyx to make a cursory effort of cleaning her face and sets off alongside the priestess. The two men lead their horses, clearly slightly uncomfortable at being in the presence of a guildsman and another unspecified noble along with their entourage who were all too willing to draw their blades at a moments notice.

After a few steps, the young noblewoman finally finds the words to answer Inyx in a rather clearly and more confident voice,
"Mother fell over and I got scared. And then I got lost but there was a pig. Not a nice pig though, a big mean pig. And then I feel down into some mud and I was running and my dress got all dirty. I think father might be angry with me for getting lost."

A short way along the road it splits into two. The major path leading onwards towards Gomorrah and the smaller paved tributary leading down the hillside towards the village known as Hardinplatz.

The going is steep but after only a ten minute walk at Molly's pace, the party find themselves something of a spectacle passing through the centre of the market square. Although there are no stalls set up, the area is a bustle with activity as people go about their trades. Most hurry away from the precession and try to avoid eye contact, here and there whispers can be overheard,
"See! These things always sort themselves out."
"Travellers..."
"Molly was lucky, you know what it can be like out there."
"One from the guild. I don't like it."
"At least she's safe."

A wide path of smooth flagstones leads out from the market square and up another rolling hill towards the seat of the Hargin family. The large doors stand open, most likely in an attempt to catch the passing breeze and circulate the stuffy, hot air of the manor. Seeing Molly and the party, a cloud of servants loitering around the doorway vanish.

Seconds later when the party arrive a well dressed butler is present to great them,
"May I be as so bold as to welcome you to the estates of my Lord and Lady Hardin. My Guildsman, this is indeed an unexpected honour and delight. Please, do come this way."
The tall but unremarkable man that is the butler bows and leads the way into the refreshing dimness of the manor. Molly rushes away from Inyx to trot at his heels while the two horseman disappear back down the hill toward the town.

The party are lead into a vacant high-ceiled sitting room, the room is luxuriously bare except for a collection of rich green arm chairs and a pair of day beds upholstered in complimenting cream fabric. Glass doors stand open at the rear of the room allowing a refreshing breeze.

Remaining at the door, the butler smiles,
"Please, do make yourselves comfortable. My Lord and Lady will be with you shortly, as will refreshments."

Patting Molly on the head, or at least making the hand motion as the party can clearly see he in no way touches the child, he leans down slightly,
"Now then young lady, I'll draw you a bath."
Molly departs with the butler leaving the party alone in the sitting room.

The Guildsman takes a seat on one of the armchairs and lets out a contented sigh,
"What fortune! I could sit here for an eternity."

[Thanos]

Bollan finds a wall to stand against. Being in this much armor with a great sword strapped to ones back makes it difficult to sit down on anything other than a bench. If he finds one though he will sit down.

[Tamarind]

As the little girl relays her story Sevilin relaxes a little, perhaps this wasn't the nasty situaton he'd feared after all...best to be prepared though. He nods politely to the folk they pass, taking in their apparently genuine concern for the little girl. Their concern for what things can be like "out there" is more worrying...what are they afraid of? Had they encountered creatures like the ones that attacked himand the others?

Entering the manor he nods to the butler and smiles at Molly as she settles in, clearly pleased to be home,

"Nice meeting you Molly, you take care now"

Still a little on edge Sevilin paces around the hallway, looking at the pictures and ornaments as they wait for their hosts.

[Dev]

"Please do," says Daison to the guildsman with a smug smile. "The decor is somewhat lackluster, but it is far more tolerable than that nasty ruin."

[BigRedRod]

Bollan alone remains standing as the rest of the group make themselves comfortable and enjoy the brief opportunity to relax.

Within a few minutes the door opens again and two figures who can only be Lord and Lady Hardin enter. Lord Hardin is nearly as tall as Bollan and carries himself with both grace and strength which are emphasised by his choice of simple dress. Rather than a robe of expensive and rare material, he wears a well tailored, but plain, shirt and trousers complimented with a deep blue waistcoat. His face is cheerful and surrounded by a well trimmed beard a good few shades lighter than his short brown hair.

His wife does not share his restraint, or his healthy appearance. Platinum blonde hair spills down in artistically formed ringlets. Her skin is of a similar shade, far too pale. Around her neck a golden chain supports an impressively large emerald. Her dress seems to have been fashioned to exactly match the colour of the gemstone along with highlights of golden cloth.

With the party standing to receive them, the pair smile broadly and approach the guildsman, the Lady walking with her arm interlocked with her husband's,
"My Lord Guildsman, this is indeed an honour and pleasure. You have our eternal gratitude for returning our daughter, Margaret, I apologise if she caused you any undue worry."
Lord Hardin's voice matches his stature, being deep and soothing.

He gestures at the arm chairs as the pair find seats beside one another,
"Please, be seated."

"Ah. Where are my manners?"
His eyes turn to Daison,
"I was informed we were gifted not only with a guildsman and his entourage but also a gentleman of noble blood. Well met, sir. I am Alexander Hardin, the fourteenth Lord of Hardinplatz, and this is my beautiful wife, Ofelia."

[Tamarind]

Sevilin regards the couple as they approach, noting their very different styles and the lady's unhealthy pallor.

She does not look well, could definitely have fainted away...

He remains silent as the pair introduce themselves, nodding politely in acknowledgement of their thanks.

[Dev]

"Um."

Only now does it occur to Daison that he will actually have to engage in gentle discourse, now that he faces someone at--or indeed, above--his status. The etiquette lessons in which he never paid attention have finally returned to haunt him. Nevertheless, the mage remembers to sit after the invitation is given.

"A most graciousful welcome my, er ... sire. My name is Daison, of the prestidigious Jezebeos family of Zoltad." His voice is weaker than usual. "This is our lovely Inyx, and the humble Bollan--of the north, I believe--and then ... er, Selvan, is it? Right, and then of course, the indistinguished Guildsman. And I certainly can't say how delighted we all are to find a bit of refined company after our recent escapades."

[BigRedRod]

Hardin raises an eyebrow,
"Zoltad? What brings you this far nor-"
His eyes catch sight of the Guildsman and he laughs,
"Oh of course, I apologise Guildsman. I did not mean to delve into your private affairs."

The door reopens and for a third time the butler enters the room, this time with a pair of smartly dressed young lads. Between them they carry several cups, a steaming teapot and a stack of saffron-dusted sweet rolls. The trio set out tea beside each of the party and the masters of Hardinplatz while Hardin remains silently smiling.

With the servants dismissed, he continues to speak,
"If it is not intruding, I would wish to honour your arrival with a meal this evening. My chef is really quite excellent. Just ourselves, the troublesome little joy that is my daughter and one or two prominent figures from the village. And, although it may go without speaking, I wish to make clear that my hospitality extends for as long as you are willing to endure"
He smiles again, lifting his cup to his lips and taking a sip of the sweet, floral brew.

The Guildsman's mask distorts slightly, possibly the man is smiling,
"You pay me too much honour, mi'Lord. I fear I must decline. If you could be as gracious as to allow to sample your chef's work in private, however..."

"Oh, yes. I didn't mean to offend. I simply-"
Hardin blurts out the apology, his cheeks reddening as he speaks. The Guildsman silences him with a wave of the hand.

"No, no. It is quite alright. I know that the customs of the guilds must be confusing. I am sure that my team would be more than willing to take my place. And perhaps I will join you after you have all eaten your fill."

[Tamarind]

Sevilin glances at the others, then nods, smiling slightly,

"I would be happy to eat with you and your family, a sit-down meal will make a welcome change from trail rations and campfire cooking"

[BigRedRod]

"Excellent."
Placing his teacup back down, Hardin stands and offers his pallid wife one of his hands,
"I could very well spend my entire day in conversation I feel, but alas, it shall have to wait for this evening. After all, Hardinplatz will not run itself now, will it?"

Helping his wife to her feet he adds,
"My man, Vidal, will be back promptly to escort you to your rooms. Until this evening though you do, of course, have the full run of my modest village."

With another smile and a nod, Hardin leads his wife out of the room. Waiting until the door has closed, the Guildsman speaks,
"What a charming fellow. I do thank you all for not mentioning our terrible predicament. After all, guild business stays in the guild, it wouldn't do to have outsiders, no matter how well intentioned, becoming involved."

Less time passes than it takes for the hungry Bollan to devour one of the small sweet rolls before the butler, Vidal, reappears at the door,
"If you would like to follow me to the east wing, I've taken the liberty of having some rooms prepared."

Away from the reception room, up some stairs and along a passage decorated with several impressively large paintings of landscapes three doors stand open. The butler stops,
"I'll admit that it shames me a little to have to offer a representative from Guild Xerxes and a son of Jezebeos such meagre quarters. Lord and Lady Hardin are not used to such prestigious company arriving unannounced. If there is anything that can be done to make your stay more comfortable, you have but to ask."

Leaving the group to settle in, Vidal retreats down the passage, doubtlessly to attend his other duties. Of the three rooms, two are rather impressive single rooms decorated with lavish works of art, large beds and fine furniture. The third is of equal size but stacked with a trio of rather less grand beds and little else.

[Thanos]

Bollan sighs to himself, but decides that free food and lodging is worth standing around for a while. Snatching a few more of the sweet rolls Bollan follows. They are gone before they are presented their rooms, of which Bollan immediately heads towards the smaller one with multiple beds. Unless otherwise instructed he will strip his armor off and find a bed to sit on and rub his feet after the long walk and wait.

[Tamarind]

Sevilin nods at the Guildsman comment,

"I can see why you'd want to keep it quiet for now - though I wonder whether these people or anyone in the village has seen anything out of the ordinary that might match those things. Perhaps at dinner we can make some general enquiries, see what we can dredge up without giving the game away?"

So saying he follows after the butler to the rooms prepared for them. Once there he briefly smiles as he sees the 'meagre' quarters referred to, then grins as he realises something else,

"Clearly Lady Inyx and our employer the Guildsman here should take the single rooms, so that leaves you and me to share with Bollan I guess Daison"

Chucking his pack at the foot of one of the two remaining beds he throws himself onto the mattress and stretches out, taking the opportunity for a little well-earned rest.

[BigRedRod]

The guildsman retires to the privacy of his own room almost instantly leaving his entourage to amuse themselves for the rest of the day without so much as a spoken word.


***


By the time the butler returns stomachs are well and truly rumbling. Having done their best to smarten themselves up for the occasion, allowing Daison to look more like the noble he claims to be as he enters the unexpectedly small dining hall with his colleagues-in-arms.

The walls are lined with the heads of various animals which Hardin, or possibly his father and grandfather, have hunted and killed over the years for sport. Roaring bears, proud deer and glaring wolves look down upon the single table draped with a fine green and gold tablecloth. All manner of dishes cover the table, the meal being dominated by a boar's head on a slightly raised platform in the centre of the table.

Instantly, the party recognise the smith and his companion from their earlier encounter with Molly on the road. Both are now dressed in their own personal finery, surprisingly well tailored suits for a pair of craftsmen in a small village. Vidal, the butler, introduces the smith as Mr. Serrano and the other as Mr. Ferreiro, the only carpenter in Hardinplatz. Ferreiro stands proudly beside his wife, a pretty young girl who can't be anything more than half his age.

Another four or five are present, more craftsman and their wives. Each of whom seems to have been dressed well above their expected means, showing just how Hardinplatz is prospering.

It's several minutes before the door opens again allowing Hardin and Ofelia make their own entrance. The Lady Hardin still wears the gold chain with its large emerald although her dress is now a rather more ornate piece made from a number of different fabrics of various deep reds. Her pallid flesh remains as unhealthy looking as ever as she smiles and asks those assembled to be seated and not stand on ceremony. Molly is curiously absent.

Good wine begins to flow and soon the party find themselves managing to put aside the events of the ruin and enjoy eating, drinking and being merry. The conversation remains largely about a good month of work and coin to show for it, the tension with the states allied to Venterra is driving up on almost everything. The only problem now is that supply is lagging behind demand. Almost everybody thanks the party at least twice on account of finding Molly, most seem unwilling to accept it was mere happenstance. The mood is friendly enough, although it is clear that the group are outsiders and certain topics have been declared inappropriate for conversation beforehand.

Once the last of the food has been removed by serving staff, the group retire back to the airy reception room for a digestif before farewells are said and Vidal escorts the party back toward their rooms.

***


A brief scream pierces through the party's sleep.

Muffled though it was, all are aware that the sound came from Inyx's room and that the priestess was likely in trouble.

Eyes spring open and the group find themselves leaping from their cots before they notice that something is quite wrong in their own room. Gone is the heat and warmth of the fireplace, but the embers haven't simply burned out, instead the back appears to have been removed and the firepit is covered. Shadowy illumination spills out from the room beyond the fireplace picking out a trio of silhouettes. Men. Perhaps. Whatever the figures are, the sudden movements of the party seem to have taken them quite by surprise.


Initiative
Sevilin
Diason
Bollan
???

Map
http://bits.bris.ac.uk/bigredrod/ORP/Maps/DT/DTMansionBedroomR1.PNG
[ooc: purple line is the open secret door in the fireplace, blue are windows and brown are doors. Bearing in mind you can't see outside the room you're in but you know the shape and layout of Inyx's room]

[Thanos]

Fashback! It was the hour of the wolf when the ring master sounded the bell. Nobody knew what it ment, but in each stable doorway was a figure wielding a sword. Many gladiators got the beating of their life that morning, but Bollan was not one of them. He had hidden a knife behind a loose brick that was behind his bed. Rolling out of bed he grabbed the edge with one hand, to aim it, with his other hand and a leg he launched it at his foe. Before the guard could get himself untangled from the mess Bollan had the knife to his throat.

Bollan rolls out of bed, grabbing the edge of it with one hand to pulling it almost upright and throws it straight forward into the first figure. As it flies he stoops down and picks up his gladius and torso section of his banded mail, to use as a shield.

(OOC: Improvised weapon as an attack, move action to arm himself.)

[Tamarind]

Coming awake in an instant Sevilin rolls out of bed, scooping his blades from their scabbards as he does so. Taking in the scene he narrows his eyes and aims an arcing blow at the shadowy figure before him...

[Dev]

Daison finishes rising from his bed, just in time to see Bollan's go flying across the room in front of him. As he's about to raise some sort of pretentious protest, he becomes aware of the intruders.

Frowning at the ambiguity of the situation, he takes a step back from the fighting, towards the wall, and casts shield on himself.

[BigRedRod]

Sevilin flicks his longsword upwards along the length of the shadowy figure before him, even in the relative darkness of the bedroom his sword manages to bury itself in the flesh of a man who simply does not have time to react to a figure who goes from sleeping to fighting in a handful of seconds. The dragon-blooded ranger feels the warmth of blood on his face, but his foe remains upright.

At the other side of the room Daison gestures and recites a few arcane words of power, the air before him distorts briefly as the shield of force comes in to being.

Taking a more direct approach, Bollan sends his wooden cot hurtling through the air towards one of the men lurking in the darkness. The object flies rather clumsily and only manages to clip the man on the side of the arm before striking against a wall and deftly removing a large area of plaster from it along with the rear two of its legs in an almighty crash.

Having just been struck by a bed, the man staggers a little as he attempts to close the distance with the now armed Bollan. Sevilin lashes out as the man rushes past but his blow goes wide on account of not really being able to see. Lashing out with a bladed weapon of some kind, Bollan dodges and bats the attack away with his banded cuirass.
The injured figure beside Sevilin wheels around him and swings a metal club around and into his ribs.

"Dammit, what are you two doing?"
A sudden surge of light blinds the trio for a split second as the third figure makes his way through the passage behind the fireplace. Getting to his feet, the lantern he holds in his left hand illuminates the room and his two colleagues. The assassins are indeed men, each clad in black to help him move around undetected through the dark passages of the manor house. The sight of Sevillin before him clearly comes as something of a surprise, and the third man doesn't even attempt to swing the sword he carries in his right hand.

[ooc: No more penalties for fighting in the dark]

Initiative
Sevilin
Diason
Bollan
Man #1 (shortsword)
Man #2 (light mace)
Man #3 (longsword)

Map
http://bits.bris.ac.uk/bigredrod/ORP/Maps/DT/DTMansionBedroomR2.PNG

[Tamarind]

Wincing from the blow and not liking the new odds Sevilin makes a split-second decision and laucnes an aggressive attack on the surprised newcomer, both blades whirling in the lanternlight, trusting to footwork to keep the mace-wielder from landing a second blow.

[OOC Full attack on 3 with longsword and shortsword]

[Dev]

A wince also comes from Daison, not from physical pain, but in seeing Sevilin pounce violently on the one who just arrived. His mind hesitates to attack someone who apparently might know what's going on, and hasn't even drawn a weapon. He therefore moves to assist Bollan, locking his gaze on the shadowy figure for a moment, then makes a quick gesture and flicks an arrow of force at him.

As the missile strikes, Daison attempts to diffuse the conflict with deterrence: "Back! Stay away!" He holds up his offending pointer finger as it becomes available again, as though it's some sort of threat.

(5-foot step N. Magic missile on "1".)

[Thanos]

Bollan doesn't even blink as the missle goes flying by his head to land in the chest of the foe in front of him. Findind the man distracted by Daison's attack he thrusts his short sword swiftly into the mans midsection and up towards the heart. Connecting or not he slides to the right to keep the incompotent assassins or thieves from being able to hit Sevilin from two sides.


[Full attack with Gladius at +7 for 1d6+4, then a 5' step to the right between 1/2]

[BigRedRod]

The paired blades flash in the lantern light as Sevilin deftly thrusts and whirls. The figure gasps briefly before falling down sideways with a soft thud on the thick, and now blood-stained, carpet. His lantern lands sideways, through some wonder it manages to stay alight during the melee.

Daison's spell whirls silently through the air hitting the man who had only moments before been struck with the side of an airborne bed. Reeling from the impact of the magical arrow he barely even moves as Bollan jams his sword forwards. It travels swiftly through flesh and bone as the gladiator drives the blade upwards. Jolting suddenly, the assassin falls down into a crumpled lifeless heap.

Spinning around, Bollan comes face to face with the remaining assailant just in time to see the man drop to his knees and cast his weapon aside,
"Please! Have mercy"

Map
http://bits.bris.ac.uk/bigredrod/ORP/Maps/DT/DTMansionBedroomR3.PNG

[Thanos]

His sword dripping blood Bollan looks for a few seconds like he is going to impale the guy. Instead he cleans his blade one side on each shoulder before heading out into the Hallway and over to his favorite cleric's room.

"Diason, pick up that weapon and keep this guy subdued while the Ranger and I find our cleric."

[Dev]

Killing ogres and ghola was one thing. The stench of human blood, on the other hand, turns Daison's stomach. It takes him several moments to summon the resolve to move from the corner of the room and retrieve the remaining assassin's blade. He weakly nods to Bollan without a word, then takes a position next to the overturned bed, awkwardly holding the lone attacker at point.

[Tamarind]

The stench of blood seems to have a much different effect on the young ranger, his expression is one of cruel satisfaction as he steps over the body of his assailant. Smiling coldly at the remaining assassin he locks eyes with him for a moment then moves swiftly to follow Bollan, blades at the ready,

"She had best be well - for their sakes"

he mutters as he catches the gladiator up

[BigRedRod]

Bursting into the room opposite Sevilin and Bollan keep their weapons ready to strike as they quickly survey the darkness for any lingering threats. Rather than another group of assassins doing battle with Inyx, the room is bare. There is no sign of either the priestess or anybody else.

Squinting in the dark neither Sevilin or Bollan see no trace of where their priestess might have gone.

[Thanos]

Bollan looks worried at Sevilin and returns to back to his room saying, "I am putting on my armor and getting my big sword. Then this other guy is going to talk real fast."

Bollan heads back to the other room where he puts his armor back on, including his helmet, gets his great sword and points it at the captured man. "The others were quick, but if you don't answer truthfully and quickly your death will be very slow. Who is involved, why did you do it, and where did they take her!"


[Intimidation +7 (maybe a modifier for his life on the line and the terrifying demon like being before him in the dim flickering lamp light.]

[BigRedRod]

Sitting in silence as the gladiator arms himself, the surviving assassin avoids eye contact with his captors instead choosing to stare intently at the ground. Once or twice over the minutes it takes Bollan to prepare he takes a deep breath as if preparing to speak, but nothing ever comes of it.

Finally when Bollan asks his questions, he only hesitates briefly before answering with his eyes still on the carpet soiled by the blood of his allies,
"All of us. Why? If we didn't kill you then you'd talk, it was the two nobles in the other rooms we wanted."
He looks up briefly at the three men, his face is a portrait of defeat although it is washed briefly with confusion,
"She might already be dead. The elf should have been here and he should have been there. I don't know. We kill the servants and the nobles... we give them to The Daughter Of Ezra. Soon she'll be hatched and it'll all this will have been worth it."

Through red-rimmed eyes the captive looks Bollan in the eye,
"If she's still alive then the others must have taken her to The Daughter. Go through the fireplace, there's a trapdoor. Follow the passages to get under the manor, that is where she'll be."

[Thanos]

Bollan looks to Diason and Sevilin and shrugs now knowing what half of what the guy just said.

[Tamarind]

Sevilin scowl deepens as he listens to the assassin's brief tale,

"So. You take the nobles and their servants and sacrifice them to this Daughter creature? What kind of monsters are you?"

He shakes his head, fists clenched as he resists the urge to vent his anger. Taking a deep breath he glances at the others,

"We need to get after them - they can't be far ahead if they're carrying her."

Then another realisation dawns,

"What of the other nobles - the family here and their daughter? Were they targetted too?"

His tone is urgent and laced with menace.

[Dev]

Sweating with anxiety, Daison barely glances to Sevilin with a frown. Perhaps the other two hadn't picked up on it, but the bumbling assassin made it clear: if it weren't for Daison's gracious manners, Inyx wouldn't be in this mess. They had expected to find him in that room--a single room that under any circumstance deserved to be his--but instead, found the lady of the party, to whom Daison had felt he should offer one of his rare courtesies. It was all his fault. Him and that stupid gentleman's code.

"We've to go after Inyx. I can't let anything happen to her."

[BigRedRod]

The prisoner shakes his head,
"Not the servants, we try to make it painless for them. Their masters... what does it matter if a few of those greedy bastards have to suffer for Ezra's golden age to begin?"
Passion briefly flickers through his eyes but the impossibility of reason or escape silences him once more.

[Tamarind]

Sevilin nods at Daison,

"On that we agree. Let's move, I'll take care of this one."

He steps forward calmly towards the prisoner, blade raised, eyes cold.

[Thanos]

Bollan turns and heads towards the secret passage on his way to save Inyx and the other nobles knowing that his fire breathing friend can handle the thug.

[BigRedRod]

Grabbing the lantern, Bollan ducks through the fireplace with Daison close behind. The area beyond is uncomfortably cramped, the ceiling not reaching much higher than Bollan's shoulder and not quite wide enough to allow him to move without angling his shoulders. The rather shorter Daison has no such physical trouble but finds it a little claustrophobic nevertheless.

The tiny room doesn't even bear wall sconces, in fact it's only features aside from numerous cobwebs and dust are an open trapdoor and a lever on the back of the fireplace. Holding the lantern over the black pit, the duo hear the wet sound of a sword stroke finding flesh and the dull thud of something having been severed. Looking over his shoulder, Daison is greeted by the form of Sevilin wiping the blood from his blade.

Dropping down the ladder with his two companions close behind, Bollan finds himself in a near identical chamber. Crampt, dusty, full of cobwebs and an open trapdoor leading further down. The only break in the bare stone walls is a small wooden panel with another level beside it, doubtlessly another secret passage leading to whatever room lies on the ground floor beneath the guest bedroom.

With no time to lose, the three continue downwards and find themselves at the end of another narrow but rather longer passage. The air is distinctly colder here, in what must be the manor's basement. As in the secret rooms above the walls and floor are bare stone blocks, although here a lit torch hangs on a wall sconce and the ceiling isn't quite as low (although Bollan still can't stand without stooping).

At the opposite side of the short passage (a good forty or fifty feet away) another ladder is fixed to the wall, leading upwards into the other half of the manor.

The only other feature of the narrow corridor is a stout looking wooden door midway between the two ladders. From beyond it there are muffled noises would sound rather like voices.

[Thanos]

Bollan looks to his two companions for their signs of readiness. Pointing to Sevilin to take one side of the door, Bollan mimics the tactics they used in the ruins with him going first and Sevilin dropping in right behind him after having opened the door. Diason is free to follow or stand in the cooridor as he deems best, of course.

[Tamarind]

Sevilin draws his second blade and nods, moving into position

[BigRedRod]

The door opens inwards and absolutely silently making it sadly unimpressive when Bollan and Sevillin come face to face with the rear of a heavily stocked wine rack. The rear of a very old wine rack. Several large pieces of extremely thin wood lie on the ground by Bollan's boots. It looks rather like the wine rack was serving as a fake wall, built just a few feet away from the actual wall.

A voice calls out, evidently noticing the party's lantern light being transmitted through the barrier but not actually being able to make out who has come down through the secret passages of the manor and into the cellar,
"We all good, then?"

The voice is full of youth and excitement but peering through the gaps between the dusty bottles of wine and into the flickering light beyond doesn't allow for many details of the speaker.

What can be seen is that the room is clearly a wine cellar, hundreds of dusty bottles fill racks made of dark, ancient-looking, wood. The floor is bare stone with patches of dirt here and there. A large stone staircase leading upwards flanked by a pair of thin metal columns each bearing a fat candle. The two candles don't offer a great deal in terms of light.

A great circular stone sits opposite the stairs but a little out of line, offset from the hole in the wine cellar floor which a spiral staircase descends down into. Stood next to the top step of the uncovered staircase is sole occupant of the room. Distorted echoes spill out from below, the sounds are distorted but could well be voices... or the rushing wind... or groans.

To Sevilin's left there is a gap in the wine rack where a section of the fake wall has been moved forwards to allow access to the secret passage network beyond.


http://www.bits.bris.ac.uk/bigredrod/ORP/Maps/DT/DTHardinplatzMansionBasement1.PNG
[ooc: purple boxes are the wine racks, hopefully everything else is clear]

[Tamarind]

Sevilin blinks at the question, hesitates a second then speaks up, his voice a little gruffer than usual,

"Yeah, all good."

As he speaks he moves through the opening, trying to conceal his face in the shadows of the rack for as long as possible as he moves casually towards the sound of the voice.

[Thanos]

Bollan tries to not make a lot of clinking sounds as he follows, which reduces his ability to move at speed, but still lets him try and fill in the distance behind Sevilin to back him up.

[BigRedRod]

Edging through the narrow gap behind Sevlin Bollan does his best to mute the metallic clinks and clangs of the metal bands surrounding his body. The going is slow, but unexpected sounds could potentially alert the solitary remaining guard.

Daison's robe, the simple light cotton garment the noble favoured for wearing to bed offered no such problems, but trapped behind Bollan as he was he walked at a equally sedate pace, his knuckles whit around his crossbow.

"Best be gettin' down then, t'others are already startin'."
The voice carries no hint of suspicion. Just that of a man satisfied that his job isn't throwing up an unnecessary problems. Problems such as one of the nobles having switched beds with a servant, or the assassins having failed in their task.

Sevilin steps out from behind the ancient wine rack as the youthful voice pipes up again,
"I'll give an 'and with door."

Still on the other side of a free standing wine rack and therefore still unable to tell that Sevilin, Bollan and Daison has taken the place of the expected trio, the figure closes the distance to the party. His steps alternate between damped and loud echoing snaps as his boots fall heavily on bare stone and layers of soil.

Far below, the distorted sounds rise in volume and clarity. A deep rythym. Many voices chanting in unison.

Intiative
Sevilin
Daison
Bollan

Map
http://bits.bris.ac.uk/bigredrod/ORP/Maps/DT/DTHardinplatzMansionBasementRS.PNG


[ooc: Given that you're aware you are about to spotted, you've got a surprise round. Gentlemen give me your Standard actions]

[Thanos]

Bollan heads in behind Sevilin unconcerned with making noise now trying to get into a position to help.


[Standard move]

[Tamarind]

Sevilin steps forward closing the gap with the man occupied with the wine rack, blade sweeping up with practiced ease towards the hapless youth's throat...