Between Corros' Mend cantrip and Gronk's improvised barricade, the door to the cell block holds for another several minutes.

During that time, Nicolai frees Overmark, Breakwater, and the Monk. The other prisoners continue to clamor for their freedom, pleas turning to curses as it becomes apparent that they are to be left behind. It's a difficult decision, especially since some of the remaining prisoners certainly deserve their freedom, but Overmark makes the call, arguing that they'll be safer remaining behind bars than in attempting a decidedly risky escape.

Nic removes the grapnel and knotted rope prepared for the privy contingency from the Bag of Holding. Attaching the grapnel to a sturdy surface and making it fast, he removes the stone seat plate (the hole is too small for any but an unusually slim Halfling to pass through) and tosses the rope down the exposed shaft. The smell that greets him is unpleasant, to say the least. Despite the time they Four have spent wading through the city sewers, there's no getting used to the stench.

Overmark helps herself to one of the longswords from the shifted cabinet, testing its weight in her hand. Breakwater picks up an axe. There's a bit of debate between the two as to who will lead the way down the shaft, but Overmark wins the point, sending the Councilman down first. He drops the axe, then begins clambering down the rope, hand-over hand. The monk is next, followed by, at Nic's insistence, by the ex-Commandant (who reluctantly leaves the sword behind).

Beset by hammer and axe, the sturdy, iron-bound oak door finally gives way. Bloodforged push through the gap, but the narrow opening acts as a funnel, only allowing passage to one or two at time. The Four are waiting. Jenna's Spirit Guardians are the first to meet the invaders. The first mercenary through the shattered door seems to shrug off the wispy, luminescent summons' attack (B1 -4 HP) but the second fares worse, writhing in pain as the glowing spirit passes through his body (B2 -18HP).

Lemnish shield up, Gronk presses towards the gap, trying to block the passage by creating a mound of red-armored corpses. He attacks low, taking out the first mercenary's legs, then hammers at the downed opponent with his morning star (B1 -30HP; B1 is now prone, granting advantage). As the first mercenary falls, another (B3) steps through the door, leading with his sword.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:36, Fri 29 July 2016.

When it become obvious that the door is going to give way, Corros skips backwards putting Jenna and Gronk between himself and the pointy things wielded by angry people.  The action makes him wonder for a moment if he is a coward or not, but the moment passes with the acknowledgment that his specialty isn't the whole sword and shield thing.  His specialty comes from figuring out where to put an area effect spell so that is wreaks havoc on the Bloodforged behind the door without blowing the remains of their barricade to itty-bitty pieces.  So that's what he does.


Corros
40/40 HP, AC 13
Casting Shatter on the group of mercenaries behind the door, trying to make sure not to blow the barricade apart in the process.  3rd level slot, 4d8 damage, save for half.

Jenna steps forward as Corros moves back, placing herself between the Warlock and the Bloodforged as they push through the shattered door, raising her right hand as she does so, fingers pointed towards the mercenary who has just joined the fight (B3), calling forth the Warrior's divine grace and unleashing it towards the man in a bolt of radiant energy whilst willing her astral protectors forward to inflict more damage on the Reaver worshippers as they force their way in to the cell block.

Jenna
HP44 / AC 21
Attacking B3 with Guiding Bolt (Level 3)

"Time to go, Commandant," Nicolai pointedly advises Overmark.  He slaps a sheathed dagger into her hand as she relinquishes the more cumbersome sword, then turns back to the fight.  "You."  He raps the knuckles of a pleading prisoner to get the man's attention, then drops the keyring into the grimy outstretched hand.  "I don't have time to fumble-fuck with any more locks.  You fumble-fuck while we fight."

He steps around Corros and gauges the knot at the door.  There's room for another friendly fighter, but Jenna is already heading in that direction - and is better-armored by a fair margin.  That doesn't mean there's no room for the Ardani to work, though.  He flips a throwing knife into his hand, gauges the angle, and lets fly at the man illuminated by Jenna's war-prayer.

Corros, tell Jenna and Gronk we'll fall back when Jenna calls it.  You're first out, I'm last.

Nicolai
AC 15; HP 45/45; superiority dice 3/4
Move: Handing off the keys
Attack: Dart on B3:  attack +6 w/ advantage, damage 1d4+2d6+3

The cell block shakes as Corros' Shatter spell explodes in the cramped staircase beyond the door, blasting splinters of door off its hinges. Curses and moans replace the fading echo of the magical thunderclap (B3 -6HP, B4 -19HP, B5- 14HP, B6 -9HP). Wooden door fragments, a fallen chair, and the upended cabinet create a speedbump of sorts (rough terrain) just inside the doorway.

"They've got a wizard!" one of the mercs on the landing shouts, an edge of panic to his voice.

"Get the Bloodmage!" another shouts, more resolute.

Jenna tags the next merc who steps over the debris just inside the threshold of the door with a Guiding Bolt, slowing his roll and highlighting the man, literally, for her next companion to attack (B3- 13HP; B3 grants advantage to next attack).

Nic accepts the invitation, hurling a throwing knife at the faintly glowing mercenary. The dagger imbeds itself, quivering, in a fragment of the cell block door a hands-breadth from the man's head. The mercenary steps over the fallen cabinet and into the ephemeral arms of the Armist cleric's Spirit Guardians. He stops momentarily, and cries out in pain, before doggedly resuming his advance (B3 -15HP). His two companions already in the room continue to be tormented by the angelic figures as well (B1 -8HP, B2-14HP).

The second nearest mercenary plants his feet alongside his tripped companion, now scrambling to his feet, and swings at the half-orc playing at being a living barricade. Gronk turns both attacks with his shield and counters, smiting the man in the chest with his morning star (Riposte: B2 -15HP). The man he'd tripped earlier gets back to his feet and lashes out at the half-orc as well, as does the third Redcloak through the door, but the gladiator's stolen splint mail and enchanted Lemnish shield take all of the punishment, leaving Gronk a little bruised but otherwise unscathed.

While the Four hold off the Bloodforged storm troopers, the remaining prisoners- those willing to risk it, at least- are releasing themselves, passing the cell keys around, and making their way, pushing and shoving, to the privy.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:46, Sat 30 July 2016.

Gronk continues to press towards the open doorway, swinging Spike as he advances, trying to put down a Redcloak or two for keeps this time.

"We've gotta block the door, or slow these fucks down somehow!" he shouts, knowing that retreat in the face of an attacking enemy is one of the most dangerous battlefield maneuvers. His mind wanders briefly to the departed dwarf druid's Entanglement spell, and he curses Ulfgar's absence, letting the bitter memory of his sudden departure fuel the rage building inside.

Gronk
AC 20; HP 58/65
2/4 Combat Superiority dice
2x enraged melee attacks v B1 (and B2 if B1 is killed)

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:30, Sat 30 July 2016.

A Priestess of Arma fights until victory is achieved or she dies trying.

For a moment Jenna is no longer in the Guardroom. She is in the Cloisters, a child, one who has barely reached her teens. She is bruised, blooded, her white tunic stained crimson. Her weapon is a wooden hammer. And she can hear the voice of the elder Priest who is training her in the arts of battle as he repeats the dogma of the Church constantly, making her recite it after him.

A Priestess of Arma is expected to devote herself fully to the Goddess

She blinks, and the Cloisters are replaced by the cell block. She is aware of movement all around her, of imprisoned wretches freeing themselves from their shackles, of dust falling from the ceiling, landing in her wet hair. She can hear the Bloodforged call for reinforcements, including a Sorcerer of their own, hears too Gronk call out that they need to be delayed.

A Priestess of Arma fights until victory is achieved or she dies trying.

Before she had met the others Jenna had failed the Warrior. But the Goddess had not forsaken her, rather She had told her that she would find redemption in the company of strangers. She had found those strangers, yet still sought that redemption.

Three mercenaries are within the cell block, more doubtless outside trying to push their way in, yet more being summoned, including a mage. Jenna takes a deep breath. Perhaps this was the day that she found redemption. There's an irony of sorts, one that isn't lost on her, for she had never hidden her distrust of Overmark. But the Commandant had to get away, be the figurehead that Balefyre needed. "Go! I will hold them! Get out! All of you! Now!"

It was logical. Someone had to hold the line whilst the others made their escape. And a Priestess of Arma fights until victory is achieved. She does not dwell on the second part of that statement, instead throws an anguished look at Corros, holds his gaze for a moment.

And then Jenna lunges forward, her Spirit Guardians flitting around her as a wild roar tumbles from her lips, her eyes turning to pure obsidian with a single blink as she seeks to form an armoured plug for the hole that is the door, Arma's Blessing lashing out towards the nearest Bloodforged, calling out as she does so. "Who wants to be next to die?"

Jenna
HP44 / AC 21
Attacking B3 with Warhammer (1d8+3)
War Priest (1/4) for bonus attack

Oh, by Aero's salty balls...  Nicolai retrieves his own shield and rapier - the latter with a tight smirk toward Styg - from the Bag of Holding, then shoves the voluminous container along the floor toward Corros.  His eyes narrow as he sketches a mental picture of his intentions across the witchling's mind-link: Jenna and Gronk moving back, step by step, side by side, in a deliberate slow withdrawal toward the escape route.

"You can't be last out, Jenna," he hisses as he steps up behind the impromptu shieldwall.  "Corros and I can't drag you or Gronk if you fall and I'll need you to heal my broken legs when I come down with the rope."

Nicolai
AC 17; HP 45/45; superiority dice 3/4
Getting fully geared and moving into the fight
If able, stabbitty stab on any available mercenary

Corros can practically taste the anguish coming off of Jenna as she makes her decision, the struggles of the last several weeks becoming crystalline in her mind.  He guesses that his lover has opted to cease her struggles inside the teachings of her faith.  When her eyes flash to black, hope starts to leave him.

Everyone leaves you Corros.  Everyone.

The thought paralyzes him, pain ripping across his mind with memories: the rejection of his grandparents, pushing him away as a reminder of his unknown father. His mother going missing while others mocked him for believing that she could be alive, even as he understood she would never return.  Street kids mocking him, leaving when he couldn't keep up or when they had taken everything he had to give then spit on him.  Only The Library was constant, if insane.

Nic's plan moves through his mind and Corros doesn't care.  Not at first.

Please Jenna, Corros floods the channel, heedless of the minds of Gronk and Nic in the link, fear and something like the beginning of a type of love pushing through.  I need you.  Not like this.  Don't throw yourself away like this.  We can live.  We can.  All of us.  He's crying.  He knows he is.  Form the line like Nic wants. Please.  We fight together.  Together, live or die.

The warlock steps into the open door of Overmark's cell and pull himself up so he can see over the heads of his companions, releases a blast of magical energy towards any of the Bloodforged he can see.

Corros
40/40 HP, AC 13
Pleading
Casting Eldrtich Bolt x2, +7 to hit, 1d10+4 each at the next guy through the door.

Nicolai's words fall on deaf ears. She's aware of the Rogue talking, but it's only Corros' voice that Jenna can hear. She can feel his pain cutting through her. It's mirrored by her own, an anguish that is unlike anything that she can recall having experienced before. She can taste her own tears running down her cheeks as she steps back after lashing out at the nearest Bloodforged, trying to form the line with Gronk that she can see in her head.

Gronk bashes away at the remarkably resilient Bloodforged point man, doing additional damage but failing to finish him (B1 -13HP).

Nic has better luck with rapier than he did with throwing knife. Expertly wielded, Touch of Sylk's long, slim blade darts in on the blindside of the mercenary walking slack, catching him unawares. A spray of blood shoots sideways at Nic as the rogue swiftly withdraws the rapier from his victim's neck. Pulsing progressively weakening spurts of blood from the small but deep wound in his neck, the merc falls limp atop the damaged cabinet (B2 -15HP: B2 is dead!).

Jenna flails at the third Redcloak with her blessed hammer, but her inner struggle impedes her aim and the mercenary turns away both blows with his sword. Fortunately, the priestess' Spirit Guardians continue to work for her, scourging her target with their divine radiance (B3 -13HP).

Corros' potent cantrip kills one Redcloak outright (B1 -10: B1 is dead!) and injures another (B3 -9HP).

There's a press near the doorway, but, witnessing two of their three comrades killed in front of them seems to give them pause. There's a moment of hesitation as the mercenaries weigh their options.

"Keep at them! He's coming!" a voice shouts from the stairwell, and two of the reluctant mercenaries (B4 & B5) enter the breach.

Behind the Four, more bold prisoners make their escape, clambering down the knotted rope into the bowels of the keep.

B3 is nearly dead.
B4 & B5 were both wounded by Corros' earlier Shatter spell.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:51, Sat 30 July 2016.

"Forget it, sister! We ain't leavin' nobody behind!"

Gronk squares up to the next mercenary through the door, swinging low again, trying to sweep the man's legs.

"Fire!" he shouts, mostly at Corros, not trusting to telepathy. "Set the wood on fire!"

Surely the warlock has some spell that can ignite the wooden debris just inside the doorway. A burning barricade might give the Four enough time and space to make their getaway.


Gronk
AC 20; HP 58/65 (dam resistance while enraged)
2/4 Superiority Dice
Trip attack v B5, granting advantage if successful; weapon attack v B5, Action Surge attack v B5

-

Nicolai slots into place at Gronk's side and lashes out with his shield at the next man through the door.  It's not a serious attack, but the bulk of the shield fills the mercenary's field of view for a critical second.  The Ardani pivots toward another adversary and thrusts with his rapier.  "Bring the Bloodmage," he bellows, "the ravens are hungry!"

Nicolai
AC 17; HP 45/45; superiority dice 3/4
Bonus: Help (granting advantage) to Gronk's next attack
Attack: +1 rapier on B3 (attack +7, damage 1d8+2d6+4 with flanking)

"Fire.  Yes.  Fire."  With Jenna moving in the lines, Corros has some semblance of control of his emotions coming back. Gronk's plan makes some sense.  The more obstacles the better their chances for survival, even with the mage coming.  Corros has one hole card left, but he only get's to play it once and his magical energies will be done.  Hopefully his friends will be in range of the privy when it comes.

Corros
40/40 HP, AC 13
Casting Fire Bolt x2 at the debris near the door, +7 to attack, d10 fire damage.
If the Bloodmage arrives, will defend against offensive magic with Counterspell as reaction, 3rd level slot

Jenna tries to push the emotions out of her mind, tries to concentrate on the ongoing battle. She needs to keep her focus. There would be time to reflect on the last few moments afterwards. First they had to survive, had to make their escape. All of them.

The Priestess tries to take position on the opposite side to Gronk from Nicolai, so that both of them are flanking the half orc, her shield raised defensively, letting the Bloodforged see the sigil of Arma emblazoned on it, her other hand raised, eyes flicking between black and white as she opts to channel the Goddess' power rather than swing her hammer. Her fingers dance as she calls on Holy Fire to rain down on one of the mercenaries, hoping that the flames may augment those that Corros has summoned.

Jenna
HP44 / AC 21
Casting Sacred Flame cantrip on B5 (2d8 damage)

With shield and sword, respectively, Nic distracts one mercenary (B5), and kills another (B3 -14HP; B3 is dead!). Gronk takes advantage of his ally's clever work to smash the legs out from under another Redcloak. The rage-fueled pit fighter then brings his morning star down on the nearly defenseless supine mercenary, adding considerably to his woe (B5- 35HP). Fighting now for survival, the badly-wounded man manages to roll out of the way of a third, potential killing blow from the half-orc. He also rolls out of the way of Jenna's Sacred Flame spell, which alights upon one of the unhinged cabinet doors instead, igniting it. The Redcloak's brief run of luck doesn't hold for long- he can't escape Jenna's whirling wall of Spirit Guardians, their blistering radiance snuffing out the remainder of his life. (B5 -10HP; B5 is dead).

Two gouts of flame erupt from Corros' outstretched fingers, adding to the growing conflagration. What used to be, up until a couple of minutes ago, a door and pieces of wooden furniture is now a raging bonfire. Waste-high flames occasionally leap up to kiss the lintel of the doorway, creating an effective barrier between the Four and the mercenaries assembling for a renewed assault in the stairwell beyond. A fire this fierce won't burn long, however.

Only one mercenary remains on the Four's side of the fire. A Spirit Guardian brushes by, singing him with its dire radiance (B4 -4HP). Flames at his back, and four seemingly invincible foes before him, the lone survivor fights with almost feral desperation, swinging his mace wildly at the biggest target he sees. The first blow clips Gronk's armored thigh, eliciting a grunt of pain from the rage-gladiator. The second attack buzzes through the air within a hair's breadth of the half-orc's crooked nose. Gronk skillfully counters, killing the man with a forehand strike to the side of the head (B4 -20HP; B4 is dead!).

Looking across the guardroom, the Four see the top of Sylky Styg's greasy-haired head disappear into the shitter. All of the other prisoners doughty enough to attempt the four-story climb down the vertical privy shaft have done so, leaving the escape route open for their rescuers. If they're going to get away, they realize, this is the time to try.

"Go!" Gronk shouts at his friends, reassuring them that he'll be right behind them. As the first of the Four takes the rope and begins the long, dark, foul-smelling descent, the half-orc picks up the guard's cot and tosses it, frame, mattress, and bedding, atop the burning barricade, buying, he hopes, a little more time for his companions and him to complete their great escape.

Shim, lantern in hand, and two of his companions are waiting at the base of the shaft, along with Overmark, Breakwater, the strange monk, and three other escapees. Styg and three others, convicted criminals all, haven't stuck around. About a dozen prisoners decided not to take the risk, and have elected to remain incarcerated.

The main tunnel is loud with the sound of falling water, rain from above washing down the storm drains to splash into the effluent below. Shim leads the party through the warren of brick-lined sewer system, back to a sewer exit just a half-block away from the Vander safe-house.

Congrats! You have achieved 7th level!


Your Turn.

-

Nicolai stands in the middle of the street and tilts his head back, letting the rain rinse away the outer layer of blood and filth.  "Corros," he says tonelessly without bothering to check if the witchling is within earshot, "we're doing this too often.  You should research a magic bath spell."

He rolls his head around, feeling a couple of vertebrae pop, then shakes himself.  "Well, then," he murmurs to Overmark through a grim smile, "welcome to our master plan for returning Balefyre to legitimate governance."

He flips a small but heavy leather sack out from under his cloak and tosses it underhand to Shim.  "For your navigation services," he grins, tilting his head toward the cutpurse.  "Commandant, I hope you'll remember this when we're all back to business as usual."

"Now let's get off the street and talk about our next move.  And tea."

OOC: -100 party gold to Shim (I believe we already paid him 200 in advance).
This message was last edited by the player at 01:00, Mon 01 Aug 2016.

Jenna stands for a long moment, her head back and her eyes closed, feeling the rain on her face, washing away some of the coating of filth that clings to her skin. When her eyes do open they’re back to their normal shade of blue as the emotions of the last few minutes in the Keep ripple through her, the frantic battle against the Bloodforged, their escape down the privy shaft, most of them without a scratch, Jenna’s only injury the bruised cheek suffered when Nicolai punched her.

She wants to go her lover, wants to feel his arms around her, but this was not the time, nor the place, not in front of so many people. There would be a time afterwards. ”A bath sounds good. I'm starting to feel as though we live in the sewers” she says, partly in response to Nicolai’s comment, but it’s Corros that those blue eyes seek out for a moment before she nods her agreement with Nicolai’s suggestion to get off the streets at the same time as she unfastens the manacle that still hangs around her left wrist. ”We may as well keep a hold of these.” she says as she tosses the shackles to Gronk so that the half orc can put them in the Bag of Holding.

"Thanks," Gronk replies, snagging the shackles out of the air and stowing them in the Bag of Holding. He looks around at the buildings hemming in the street, squinting against the rain. "I sure hope no one's seen us."

-
This message was last edited by the player at 04:59, Wed 03 Aug 2016.

The Four, scrubbed clean and wearing fresh, dry clothes, sit around the fireplace in Vander's modest but comfortably-appointed midtown apartment, sipping hot tea and enjoying the dry warmth of the crackling fire (Short Rest completed). The secret love nest, intended as an overnight abode for two or three at most, is now temporary home to almost quadruple that number. The Four are joined by former commander of the Fire Watch, Kara Overmark and Muzz Breakwater, head of the Fisherman's Alliance and deposed member of the Fire Council. In another room sit six of the other escapees, including the tattooed monk, imprisoned by the Bloodforged for various trumped up charges, but not [yet] part of the growing conspiracy. Jurvis and Lenore rotate standing guard over the four Redcloak prisoners captured earlier that night. Shim has taken his leave of the party to check in with the rest of the Drowned Rats, several of whom were involved in the diversionary attack on the guard house in the Harbor Ward. Dawn is a couple of hours away. The heavy rain has given way again to a light drizzle.

Muzz Breakwater addresses the company, "Thank you, again. I am in your debt. Whatever I can do to repay the favor, if it is my power, I will do it. You have my word."

Overmark holds a wet compress to her swollen eye socket. "Zardis will act fast to reestablish his authority. We need to beat him to the punch."


Your Turn.

Nicolai leans back in his chair and stares at the ceiling as he listens to Breakwater's recounting of the last month's events.  His expression is the slightly vacant one that says to casual acquintances, "I have very few thoughts in my head."  To his companions of the past weeks, it says, "I have too many thoughts in my head, many of them bad."

When Breakwater finishes his tale and his tea, Nicolai lets silence reign for perhaps a minute.  Finally, his chair creaks as he leans forward.  "Thank you for that report, Councilor.  That clears up several aspects of the situation that our other sources were unclear on."  He leaves the identities of those sources deliberately vague.

"Kreyg is out for both face and money.  To get him to leave, we either need to give him an easier source of those from somewhere else..."  He pauses and looks around the room, as if searching for a hidden sack of gold and respect.  When none is forthcoming, he spreads his hands and continues, "or we need to put him in a situation where it looks like he's about to lose everything, then show him a way out that he'll grasp to escape total ruin.  Or we can ruin him, but that will be expensive."

He gestures toward Overmark.  "Commandant.  We've cost him at least eight men tonight, either dead or captured, not counting any casualties he's taken from the riot at the port.  Moreover, we just raided his headquarters with no losses of our own and cleaned out the dungeon - by the way, you'll want to look at that security problem once you're back in your office - which is an even greater loss of face.  Based on the tactics we've seen so far, you're right - his response is predictable.

"More troops on the streets means fewer for other details.  He won't reduce the guard contingent at the keep, so he'll have to pull those personnel from elsewhere.  He can only stretch his reserves so far, and he doesn't dare push his men to breaking.  They're his capital.  So he'll thin out the detachments that don't support his immediate goals.  Including," he nods at Corros, "the security forces on the delegations that are bidding for the city.

"We'll need to handle this with some precision.  Dead diplomats are a casus belli.  On the other hand, expelled diplomats are a different kind of message entirely."

"Councilman Breakwater.  If we can deliver those delegations to the docks, can you find ships and crew to see them home?"

Naturally Jenna had taken a seat next to Corros, the cramped surroundings of the overcrowded room putting her in close proximity to the Warlock. As Nicolai conversed with the rescued Councilman and Guard Commander the blonde haired Priestess let her mind drift back to the fight in guard room, memories of how she had hurled herself at the Bloodforged still swirling in her mind, threatening to overwhelm her thoughts.

It had been the same when they had been ambushed by the creatures outside the underground city. Although then their struggles had been largely individual ones, each of them fighting their own battle against the insectoid things, Jenna could recall being surrounded by them, feeling their blades slice into her, causing her to shed her blood for the Warrior. She had thought that she was going to die that day, had thought the same again when she had rushed at the Bloodforged, the rational part of her mind swamped by an anger, the desire to fight. To kill. Was that what the Goddess wanted? Or was it what Jenna Drax wanted? Would Arma have approved of the way that she had mounted the dead insectoid’s head on a spear, as...as what? A warning to its comrades not to cross her and her companions? Or a macabre trophy?

And what else might Jenna want that the Warrior might not approve of? Her leg, already close to Corros’, moves closer still, the contact distinct through their clothing. Thoughts had spilled out during the battle at the Keep, unguarded ones, his and hers, peeling back the curtain on their secret. If it had been a secret, for whilst she wasn't sure if Gronk would have noticed, she doubted that there was much that truly escaped the attention of Nicolai Romanelli. Or the Goddess. What did he think? And what did She think?

Jenna shivers slightly, shifts in her seat, causing a fresh contact with Corros as her eyes flick to Breakwater in anticipation his reply. Once the conversation has moved on she will cough softly. ”We should release our prisoners as well. Tell them to tell their comrades that the Ravens are coming for all of them then release them somewhere bound and hooded and wearing nothing but sackcloth. Show the City that the Bloodforged are not invincible. Make them a source of laughter, derision. It saves us guarding them. And the hoods mean that all they will have seen are the four of us. And we are probably already marked after what happened tonight.” There’s a reminder in her words that if they don’t already the Bloodforged will likely soon know who they are.

"Our profile has been a bit higher than I'd like," Nicolai admits.  "We probably could be reasonably anonymous alone but the fi- four of us together," he scowls at the misstep, "are rather recognizable.  Once we cut those prisoners loose, we can't go back to Bálint House until this is ended.  Someone will talk for the right price or the right pressure.  We should clear our gear out of there tonight - and find a safe place for Lenore and Jurvis, too."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:54, Thu 11 Aug 2016.

”Could we not arrange an unwelcome surprise at the house then let slip its location ourselves?” Jenna turns her head slightly, looks at the Warlock she is sat next to. ”Corros, have you sorcery that spark an inferno? One that would engulf anyone entering the house? That might further reduce the enemy’s number and morale.”

The Priestess shifts her attention to Overmark.  ”Such might mean the destruction of the home that the Council so kindly gave to us in lieu of proper payment owed, but ends justify means and I trust the Council will see fit to make appropriate retribution should our endeavours ultimately prove successful.” Jenna hasn’t quite forgotten how the Fire Council has treated them in the past.

Corros sits and listens, relishing the touch of Jenna, simple as it is and tries not to think to hard about what almost happened in the cell block.  Almost is such a bad concept, and as the unthinkable didn't happen, it doesn't help to dwell on it.  It could drive a half-elf crazy.  Especially if he chases the thought with questions about why the priestess seems so willing, almost eager, to throw herself on swords every time things get dicey.

He shakes his head at Jenna's question. "I don't have access to that kind of magic.  A little bit of flame, no problem, yeah?  An inferno? We'd be looking at alchemists for that."  Corros considers a joke about how he's good at starting some fires, but decides at the last second that maybe Jenna wouldn't appreciate it.

The warlock shakes his head and rolls his shoulders, trying to come up with a plan.  "The longer we sit, the more established they get, even if the Bloodforged are tearing the city apart.  I've been here before, watching a city start to tilt, and once it get's going, it's going to be very hard to stop.  We need to control the momentum as long as we can.  Right now, we are doing what Zardis will expect, hiding and letting him look for us.  I agree with Jenna about the prisoners.  There's no advantage to keeping them, and I'm not bloodthirsty enough to send them to their gods.  Let them be a symbol of vulnerability.  But we need to hit them again before sun up.  To prove that we can, even if it's just symbolic."

Corros finally turns to Overmark.  "Commander, what can you tell us about your former cell mates?  What can they do to help?  I'm guessing the Bloodforged had them there for a reason.  Except Styg, anyway, who is probably trying to sell us out as we speak."