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Cairns on the Wine River [FIN]; [ST05][Signups Closed]
Topic Started: Sat Sep 17, 2016 1:22 pm (8,276 Views)
Anci
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She had woken up earlier, everything ached and she had no idea where she was but in the barely conscious state of being Anci had found herself in it didn’t matter. She was warm, warmer here than she had ever been in this city. It had been Lore being deposited into the cell that had woken her up. They’d gotten separated in the chaos of the streets and it looked like she hadn’t made it away. Anci grabbed Lore and pulled her close, she looked a worse for wear in what she could make out. The smell of Lore, the one underneath the blood, the sweat and grime, was like a balm. They’d pulled each other out of dire situations before, they could do it again. She closed her eyes again and snuggled closer to Alex, mumbling out something along the lines of an apology.. Despite in the back of her head knowing they were in a bad situation, if she could ignore the pain from her injuries this was one of highlights of her time in Balefire.

Until the screaming.

Anci snapped awake, reflexively trying to pull Rasaki out and defend herself. The jailers had layered on three binding cuffs where it could emerge. She couldn’t even get it to flow out or around the bands. It felt awful to have Rasaki cut off from her even though it was there right under her skin. During the small horror of discovering Rasaki was sealed away, it was made clear that it was one of their cell mates, many cell mates, was losing their mind.

The goblin throat punched her while another one did something.

Oh boy.


That seemed to stir the cell into activity. A few went to silence Carmen, Lorica took a nearly as direct route as the goblin did by strangling her into unconsciousness.

"I was going to say that you didn't earn breakfast this time, but that went a long way to proving me wrong."

Alex went right to work, fiddling with the Zuraw's collar. Anci was a bit worried that they'd trigger some kind of a trap and that'd be the end of the shy knight. There was no great explosion, no tampering triggered delivery of a poison. Alex's sudden pressing focus was a surprise, enough so that Anci was looking behind her to see who she had been talking to.

"Who me? No no no, I am not a priest. I do not have practical experience!"

Alex wasn't interested in her protests, so she did her best to follow the brief tutorial along. It was frustratingly close to understanding, she didn't recognize the runes in use or have a deep understanding of why Alex was adjusting them as she was but they felt alarmingly close to processes she had watched elsewhere.

When Lore's answer trailed off Anci looked up briefly while she go to work on her own collar. "Let us at least wait until there is room enough for us to turn without elbowing each other. And hey, maybe the collar will reign in the passions a bit? It's not that awful of an accessory for you." Her playful quip was something of a deflection at the suggestion that Lore might lose herself and tear into everyone here. She wasn't so certain about the others, but in tight confines like this with the handicap of these bindings Anci didn't feel like the outcome would be in her favor.

One of the runes she adjusted made a pop and let out a spark. "Oops." The pressure on Rasaki was eased. Even without pulling it out she'd know there'd be stress on the area, painful feed back of some kind. She could though and that was what counted. From there she got to work as quickly as she could, tinkering with the others collars in her attempts to reproduce what Alex had shown her.

When Anci got to Carmen she slowed down in her efforts. "Carmen? Carmen, look at me." She kept her voice soft, but firm. She needed their attention but if she was too harsh it might just undo Tanya's efforts. "I need to see your collar so I can work on it. I can make adjustments to it but I need you to hold still while I work on it."

"Thank you."

Tilting Carmen's head up she got to work on the collar. "I am really regretting it now, but I never did get something to eat at the meeting. Just a week ago I got to have some of Kimjuun's stew. A little pricey, but the ingredients are at least fresh, clean and guaranteed to be dead. What about you? What did you eat last week? I love hearing about food, it is staggering at how many differences can be found in cooking in even a region. Much less continents!"

It wasn't just idle chatter. Anci was hoping to keep the woman distracted, help calm her down by thinking about something more normal and grounded for her. She chose a week ago since it was far back enough one had to think about it to recount the details, but close enough that Carmen should be able to remember them fairly well.

She felt a little bad lying about Kimjuun to her. Last time she had seen him he'd chased her out of his place when Anci had the nerve to ask if the meat had come from a neighborhood dog that had gone missing.

There was a general plan to grapple the guard and steal their keys. It was desperate, like they were. If the strike was off all it'd take would be a shout and then any other guards would respond in force as they were trying to get out. The biggest problem here seemed to be one of reach, something Alex planned to over come with her unusual new limb.

Rasaki could cover the distance. Easily. Anci had been experimenting, seeing just how much pain drawing it out caused. The dark purple metal flowed around the manacles without any direct hassle, but the intense burning sensation it gave Anci's hand was another story. She didn't want to but if it looked like things were going to go off the rail Anci planned on throwing out a barbed spear head at the guard's throat or head, relying on Rasaki to adjust the aim as needed. Then reel the body in like a fish. Hopefully things wouldn't go that far, a live hostage would help them a lot more than another body.
Edited by Anci, Thu Sep 29, 2016 4:13 pm.
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Everyone

Tanya, you successfully stashed the lockbox in a pocket plane. You focus on comforting Carmen, which proves potentially helpful in the plan. Once your bodyguard takes over, you turn your attention to your mana shackle. You are a pragmatic woman, Tanya: full of solutions. Using your augmented jaw, you rip into that arm of yours with stomach-churning alacrity. It's a long process, one so disgusting that the others appear to be trying their best to ignore it. Your arm and its shackle fall to the ground, leaving you free to cast or do whatever you wish, sans an arm.

Hearne, you weaken your own mana shackle just enough to allow you to cast magic in the first place. With considerable pain you attempt to open a Way into the Gingered Mare, your personal pocket plane and home of many a wayward hobo. A rip in the fabric of reality opens, blurring the lines. It's not budging. You put more effort into it, more mana, until you're trembling all over from the pain. Eventually it opens in a single juddering second. The view inside is most decidedly not the Gingered Mare, though. The rip devours all sound around it, feeding into a void of black, dark blue and the occasional marbled white.

When your vision distorts again just like it did back in Headquarters, and when twisted faces appear in the void, you find it prudent to close the Way immediately. Sorry, Hearne, it didn't work; you sense that you're in an area of seriously messed-up extraplanar overlap to the point that the laws of magical reality are run ragged. That means you're not in Balefire anymore. And maybe the Ethereal Plane gets jealous when other planes enter the picture, or something.

The rest of you bide your time, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Lorica, you ask Ansgar to shift his bulk a bit to hide what they're doing from view of anyone approaching the cell. He inclines his head, baring teeth again. "Gladly, miss." With a single movement he shuffles over, bodily hitting a trio of prisoners clustered next to him. They curse with a mixture of surprise and fear before getting out of his way.

The jailmaster's footsteps and the jingling of her keys is audible, since Carmen was successfully quieted down. "Order up for Cell 4! Got a real fancy meal right here, ladies and gentlemen! Gotta keep you nice and strong so you die slower in Starek. Fitting execution for terrorists like you: no fame, just suffering while serving Balefire." By the time she's done speaking, those of you closest to the bars can see her. She's a slim orc with light brown skin and black hair tied into a knot, wearing a simple black jacket and trousers with matching scarf. Her arms are wrapped around a stack of hard, dark blue bread cut into portable (and stackable) chunks. Doesn't look too tasty, especially if you're not used to eating food derived from darkplants.

"The alligator moved a few feet! Thought he was catatonic," she remarks, passing the cell Ansgar is in.

The jailmaster stops in front of your cell, everyone. For a few seconds she keeps her distance, appraising all of you. Since most of you (6 out of 11) are simply sitting there, not really doing anything, it provides suitable cover and distraction for the people about to make a move. In addition, the mass of bodies hides the fact that Tanya's arm is missing and her shackle is gone; no one else physically removed theirs. Figuring you guys are safe, she approaches the bars and tosses bread into the cell--

Alexandra, you snake your jet-black arm through the bars. Your spindly fingers wrap around the jailmaster's face. She relaxes, eyes glazing over, losing her facial expression as you reel her in closer to the bars, Alexandra.

"Holy shit!" someone from Ansgar's cell shouts out. The hulking draconid rushes forward, throwing his cellmates aside to get to the woman on the opposite corner who's standing up. She waves her arm out of the bars. "Help! Guards! They're trying to esca--" before she can finish the plea, her entire weight is crushed against the bars. Ansgar breaks her against them a few times and then tosses her corpse aside, eyes burning. The inmates in his cell cluster on the opposite corner to him, giving him as much distance as they can, shivering and silent.

Meanwhile, Lorica, Alexandra passes the body off to you and you wrap the jailmaster in a chokehold just long enough for Zuraw to come up and nick the keys off of her. As soon as the keys come into the half-werewolf's possession, they stop making jingling noises (or any noise at all) when they're moved. Zuraw tries to unlock your cell, but she can't get the angle right, so she tosses them to you, Alexandra. You use your arm's unnatural joints to bend around and fit the key in the slot. The first key doesn't work. The second one doesn't, either. You're running out of time.

"Can't go back now!" Ansgar roars. "Everyone, hit the door of your cell! We'll fight through the bars!"

A pair of guards come rushing down to see what the commotion is. Anci, your Rasaki shoots out down the hall and impales one of them through the head. The other guard draws close enough that you, Tanya, can use your elemental arm to restrain and reel them in while the others in your cell kill him. Alexandra, you try one key after another after another -- and just as a guard down the hall sounds an alarm horn, the lock clicks open. Lorica, you pull the heavy barred door with all your might.

As you all head out, Ansgar grabs the bars of his own cell and tries to pry them open, but can't. "I swear on the Doctrine, if you leave us here in this cell--" Luckily, Alexandra, you planned to keep your end of the bargain. As your Wine River cellmates no doubt swarm the halls, you open up the cell door where Ansgar is. He's the first one out. How many cells are you going to open? Every cell is full, but opening them all will take time. (You can also pass off the keys to Zuraw, Caedis or Caelum and give them instructions if you want to use your arm's gifts in the fight instead).

Seeing the swarm of dangerous inmates coming down the hall of the prison, the guards retreat and team up to grip a heavy wooden door. They slide it closed just as the foremost of you reach the end of the hall. "Coming through!" Ansgar shouts, barreling down. He crashes through the barrier, sending a wave of splinters crashing down on the other side, and grabs the two guards by their heads. "They'll go into lockdown and try to choke us out -- trust me! We need to pacify all the crew and somehow get into the navigation room and the armory where they have our stuff. Different buildings on the barge, so choose and go."

Were you under the impression you were in a nonmoving building? Heading up the stairs and above deck is enough to dispel that notion. You are on a huge prison barge in the freezing rain. The river has widened out considerably; Yurim, you recognize your current location as the infamous Wine River Corridor, an economically important trading corridor for Balefire and the Gloomwood backswamps. Mainly river trade. (Yurim, your understanding of the region will be communicated to you in the form of a map in the next few days.) The wide, flat deck distributes the heavy weight of all the buildings, prison equipment and prisoners themselves. Lanterns swing at the end of poles built into the buildings' rooftops, barely piercing the mist, rain and darkness beyond. Scrap metal plating is bolted to some damaged parts, giving the watercraft a bit of a ramshackle appearance.

You don't have much time to observe what's beyond the barge right now, but maybe later. All you see from a cursory glance are glints of floating light, the outlines of darktrees, and a few pale knobby spirits building an intricate pile of stones on the shore.


Mana Shackles


OOC
 
The next ST post cutoff will be at 3:00pm Mountain on Sunday, October 2.

Breather Round Coming Soon (Not This Round)

A breather round is coming up soon. Please watch this space for the announcement that a particular round is a breather. In past ST topics, a breather round has been a special round of unique length in which players can post more than once. Not only will you get a chance to interact with each other (have you all even introduced yourselves?) and ask NPCs questions, but you'll have some additional activities you'll need to do before the round is over. This breather round will be somewhere between 3 and 6 days long, I haven't decided yet.

Once this breather round hits, the Storyteller will only post IC in the Discussion once per day from then on until Cairns ends, so think carefully if you've been using a loose trial-and-error method IC. This will allow people who can't sign onto Imy as often as others a chance to do quick interactions with the ST at the same rate as everyone else. During the breather round, please avoid using Discussion to interact with other players; just write a post directly into the topic, as many posts as you need.

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Lorica
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Lorica didn’t move until she heard the strange crackling and popping of Alex’s ethereal arm extending to full length. Her eyes shot open, taking in the situation in a heartbeat. Her arms snaked out between the bars, grasping at the orc’s neck. She wasn’t completely positive about orc physiology, but she suspected they had carotid arteries. That hypothesis was proven only a few seconds later. The jailkeep scrabbled at her arm, fingernails scraping the Keeper’s forearm. She grit her teeth and squeezed tighter, completely crimped the windpipe.

The guard went limp. Zuraw’s paw snaked out, snatching up the keyring. The went silent as soon as the werewolf got her mitts on them. She threw them to Alex, who tried key after key in the heavy lock on the cell door. Lorica scanned the guard’s body. A dagger was sheathed on one hip, a heavy cudgel with a metal head on the other. She ignored the latter and stretched out as far as she could, fingertips brushing the pommel. “Come on, come on…” Anci speared another guard with Rakasi as she strained, willing her arm to be just a tad longer.

She got a good grip just in time to hear the key swivel in the lock. The sound of metal on metal was the sweetest thing she’d heard all day, Anci’s voice included. Lorica sprang to her feet and was the first one out the door, moving in a low crouch. She held the knife like it was a part of her body, the blade in constant motion as she flourished it back and forth. “Get the big guy out!” She snapped at Alex, eying the guard at the end of the hall. “We need muscle, and he’s just as [removed]ed as us.”

Ansgar rose to the occasion by bulling down the hallway at full speed. Bones and wood crunched underneath his weight. Lorica snatched up the guard’s cudgel and darted after him, slashing the unconscious orc’s throat open all the way to the spine as she passed. How did we even get here? She caught a glimpse of Zuraw over her shoulder, the bioluminescent patterns along her cheeks flashing. That reminded her of how Krupin had basically abandoned her to the authorities. She could have died.

Just like that the Ethereal was back. It curled around her thoughts, freezing fingers massaging her brain. She greeted it like an old friend. Give me the dirt on that shitter. As always, there was a price. This time she simply opened her mind to it, letting it state its demands. Like before it focused on her past, demanding to know her fears. It dug through her psyche, ravenous for her secrets, unraveling the threads of her memory. Lorica gave into its demands with a grimace. Fine, you asshat. My biggest fear? Being powerless.

The presence retreated, sated for the moment. The information it provided her in return was… illuminating. The entire exchange had taken place in a heartbeat, proceeding at the speed of thought. Lorica barely paused. She flipped the cudgel to Ansgar as she emerged on the rainslick deck. “All yours, big boy.” Freezing precipitation cut through her prisoner rags, raising goosebumps along her skin. It felt glorious. It felt like freedom.

“I’m going to clear the deck! Somebody find my shit!” She reversed the knife and dated forward, her bare feet slapping against the frigid deck. There were more guards in sight, all sporting the same attire as the jailkeeper below: a dark jacket, trousers, and scarves crackling with ice. They were bustling about, drawing weapons and shouting out warnings.

Lorica pounced on the nearest, who was struggling to draw his shortsword. It had frozen into the scabbard. She grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away, plunging the dagger up through his chin and into his skull. Hot blood cascaded over her hands, steaming in the freezing air. All she cared about was the fact it was warm. The cold was already seeping into her bones, dulling her movements. They would need to finish this, and quickly. Otherwise the ice would end the prison break before it could get into full swing.

She charged at the next two guards. They had been hunched over a heating lantern for comfort, which meant that she wouldn’t get lucky again. Lorica charged forward, catching herself with her free hand when her feet slipped on the icy deck. The first guard had feline eyes, the irises a pale yellow that reflected the meager light. She swung a cudgel straight for the Keeper’s face. With her balance compromised, there was only one option available to her: Lorica threw herself forward, sliding across the deck on one hip. She slashed with the knife as she slipped by, opening up the back of the woman’s calf.

The second guard didn’t even attempt nonlethal methods. He lifted a axe with both hands, planning to split her in half like a log. Lorica reacted on instinct, flinging the dagger from her back. It was a lucky throw. The blade buried itself in his stomach with enough force that he took a step back. He froze, staring down at the protruding hilt. Lorica bounced to her feet and grabbed the handle, teeth flashing white. “That’s mine.” She spun her wrist, scrambling his insides. He finally came back to his senses and roare, bringing the axe down, but she pressed close, embracing him as if they were lovers. She spun around just in time to catch the were-lynx’s cudgel on the man’s back.

Lorica shoved the dying guard away, drawing the dagger free and barely deflected another blow from the club. She sank into a defensive stance, knife in constant motion as she struggled to keep the longer weapon at bay.
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Alexandra
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Alex felt one of the offenders go limp beneath her limb. She allowed the guard to slide to the ground, then worked quickly on the keys, but she wasn't in a particular rush. Her magic had returned. Bringing it to the surface of her being brought pain, but pain didn't stop her. A key finally clicked. Alex handed the key to Caedis. "That key is the one that unlocked this cell." Alex pointed directly at it before turning to the massing guards. "Open all of them, if you would."

"Order of Charred Steel, Mira Hazken, I call you as the Champion of Nilatos! To my aid!" Pain wracked Alex's body, but without fail she formed the signs with trembling hands. She felt her mana well up before diminishing. It wouldn't slow her down. Mira rose before her from a scorch in the shape of a summoner's circle, clad in hulking androgynous white armor. Mira turned back to look at Alex before smashing a guard aside.

"You got any particulars you want delivered back to her? You've really [removed]ed up, missy."

"Tell her I'll be home. I'll need you for the coming days, there's loose ends I'll need to tie up." Another guard fell to Mira's hulking fists. Alex walked up the stairs almost casually as the figure before her rumbled with eternal flame licking the edges of her armor plates. The pristine white blackened. They stepped onto the deck. Freezing rain poured down in the darkness. It struck Alex and sizzled. Mira drew her two blades. "Mira, clear the deck." Alex's runes lit up across her body. Pain coursed through her, but she simple called her abilities through it. A bolt of light rose into the sky above her and waited patiently. Mira darted across the deck, heavy blade coursing wherever her great leaps took her. Alex followed close after, using her ethereal limb as best she could. She couldn't bring herself to kill these people, these unwitting guards. Her fathomless rage awaited different targets.

OOC

Edited by Alexandra, Sat Oct 1, 2016 1:54 pm.
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Glug Photall
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Glug pulled his arm back, letting out his breath in a huff. Half of him was metaphorically swelling with immense relief; he'd keep his arm - for now. One less thing to worry about. But the other half of him was deeply annoyed, disgusted that the quickest way out was being left aside by a coward who didn’t want to deal with the whole broken-armed goblin affair. But he said nothing. He went back to thinking, analyzing...

...and a few moments later, all abyss broke loose.

In seconds, he was freed. He was still shackled and collared, but he was out of his cell. He gave a nod to Alexandra in thanks for her work on the shackles, though he wasn’t sure she saw it or understood the nod. He didn’t care; he was already moving. The revelation that he was on a barge didn’t surprise him at all. Now he just needed to find his way to the armoury...
but of course, there was a small army of guards before him. A couple of other people were already on deck, taking down those around him. Two guards rushed him from the left side. He popped his neck, stretched his arm a bit, and hocked a lugey upon the deck. A regular sailor would have taken that as a deep insult; these two didn’t seem to care. He shrugged, letting them know that he didn’t care about them any more than they cared about him.

Glug was not a happy camper right now, or he might have been smirking. As it was, the thrill of battle was getting his blood pumping once more. That blood was so hot that it almost seemed to burn him, but that just spurned him on more, as did the cold biting at him and the frigid rain pounding against his flesh. It wasn’t just the cold or rain or the shackles, though: it was everything. It was the betrayal, something he was usually prepared for; it was his own inability to escape that betrayal; it was the thought that he didn’t know whether it was his “boss” or one of his companions was the traitor; it was the thought that in the end, he’d have to play the long game again. He wasn’t just unhappy. Oh, no…

…Glug was pissed off.

He was already burning up from the pain this damned collar was inflicting; he figured he might as well start this fight with just a little more. He ducked a horizontal slice from the guard on his right and lurched forward with a head-butt, slamming the man backward and throwing him to the ground; he was fairly certain he had heard the man’s neck pop when he did that. He barely even felt the cold as he darted to the side, narrowly avoiding a vertical slash from the other guard. He immediately came up with his left foot and sank it into the man’s stomach, launching him backward; he was on the ground in seconds. He turned to the other guard, who was on his feet but looked dazed. Still, he attacked without hesitation. Glug stepped to the side and tripped him. Then he was on top of the man, strangling him from behind. When the other guard came rushing toward him, he leapt up - carrying the guard he was strangling with him. The man became a human shield for the other guard’s sword, and Glug used that to thrust the sword aside by thrusting the shield aside. A couple of quick punches, and the second guard was out like a light.

Picking up the dropped short sword of the first guard, he sliced the man’s arm open - right down to the bone. A couple of good whacks, and he had what he needed. What the other guy had said was a nice idea, actually - he intended to use it. He broke apart a sliver of the man’s arm bone and darted off to the side, hiding behind the door that had been thrust open as he’d rushed up onto the deck. The lock on his collar was in an extremely odd position, one that was quite awkward to reach. It was painful as the abyss itself, trying to stretch and twist the way he needed to. He focused his mind on the task, trying to ignore the tension as he slipped the cracked bone fragment into the lock.

It took him a few seconds just to do that. To actually find the right way to twist the bone itself was even more difficult, given the position. He panted with the effort, half of him wanting to quit as the burning in his arms and especially his shoulders threatened to tear the arms out of the sockets. But he kept going, biting his tongue to keep himself from growling. Finally, he heard that old, familiar click as the lock was turned - and the collar came off. He dropped his arms with relief, barely catching the collar before it could make any noise. He was exhausted from the effort, as bones and muscles and what-not weren’t meant to bend that way. But he’d gotten it. He worked feverishly on the rest of the shackles…

He was completely free now. He put the shard between his teeth and stood, a little unsteady, but he recovered quickly enough, getting his second wind in almost no time at all. Glug was still pissed off, but at least now he could move freely. Time to find his weapons and show these idiots why it wasn’t wise to invoke the ire of a goblin…

OOC
Edited by Glug Photall, Sat Oct 1, 2016 4:26 pm.
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Carmen
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Carmen was marginally aware as her handlers traded off, one after another. No one wanted to be bogged down tending to her for long. She kept mumbling, her eyes distant and unfocused, and her curled form trembled like a leaf in the breeze. Her shivering only subsided when Anci asked her a direct question. Carmen's gaze edged back toward reality and her fitful fingers curled into more static fists under her chin.

"Eat. Eat? There was wine. Wine and. . . blood and . . . they're not dead . . ."

Her eyes turned on Anci, but there was a strange glint to them, like Carmen wasn't really seeing Anci at all.

"Please let me out," she whimpered. Salty tears glistened in the dim lighting and their streams had caked her cheeks. "Please, daddy."

There was a roar of sound and a rush of commotion. Someone, not Anci or Tanya, hauled Carmen off the floor and dragged her bodily from the prison cell. She blinked and rubbed crusted salt from her eyes. Other cells were being opened. People were running all around her, yelling and fighting. There were bodies on the floor. Blood was pooling beneath them. This wasn't right; this wasn't the Castile's oubliette. Carmen blinked again, slowly beginning to recognize the faces around her. She wasn't yet strong enough to stand on her own, but at least she wasn't screaming.



"Let them all out," she said to the one with the keys. "We can't leave anyone locked up like this."

Coming around more and more, Carmen managed to get her feet flat on the decking. She tried to stand under her own power, but her knees quaked and the man at her side caught her arm so she would not fall.

The team she'd met earlier scattered again. Some ran for the deck and their belongings. Others were attacking guards. A few, like her, hung back to get the rest of the prisoners loose. The goblin bolted for some dark corner alone, and still others she lost track of entirely. Everyone did as they thought was best. The lack of leadership made her heart sink, but she wanted to run, too, and get to her violin.

More people poured around her, like river water rushing past a stone. She tugged at the collar. The metal chaffed her neck but she did not have the means to get the thing off. By the time the last cell was opened, her legs had their life returned. She thanked Caelum graciously for having held her up, and then made her way to the frigid exterior of the ship with the others. Her priority was to find her things, especially her violin, but a part of her wondered if all of the prisoners' equipment had been left in Balefire, or worse, destroyed.
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Tian
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Total chaos an anarchy, and Tian was having none of it.

The one had worked on the collar around his neck, and he had not chosen to test that particular worthy's effectiveness at nullifying the enchantments placed upon the metal. He did so now, reaching through space and time itself. There was building pain, but he ignored it as easily as he had ignored Hatiri's barbs. The air in his hands shimmered, and relic steel suddenly cooled his palms. The knives were long, foot long blades gleaming coldly in the odd light of the cell.

And he smiled then. Anyone who had seen him before, with his snarky attitude, his seeming idiocy...well, they would not recognize him now. He looked like a feral beast, eyes as hard as stone and lips curled back into a grin that was a mockery of mirth. He left the cell then, passing by the corpses of those who had tried to stop the inmates from escaping. Any of them that looked like they were still alive he quickly and efficiently ended. These were foes that would not rejoin the fighting later. They wanted to call him zakona? Very well, then.

He would act the part.

Stepping through the shattered remains of a door, splinters of wood and bodies laying all around, he stepped onto the deck of the barge. The icy rain pelted him, but he ignored it. It was hardly worth considering, and he had dealt with far worse than this before, in rags or otherwise. He hadn't made it two steps outside before a grey-coated sentry came rushing in, shouting wordlessly as he swung his short sword at neck level; Tian didn't even flinch, catching that blade with one of his longer knives and swiftly stepping in closer to his foe. Before they had even recovered from their swing, he had driven one of those long knives through the four-eyed creatures neck, severing its spine, and was already walking past.

Anarchy and chaos. It was everywhere. People were fleeing; people were fighting. Some of them were people, anyway...some of them bore no resemblance at all to the humanity he was more familiar with.

A familiar figure fought amidst the gray-clad guards, dancing on rain slick wood barefooted. It was Lorica, and miss priss was having an interesting time trying to fight someone with a bigger weapon than hers. Figures. Without hesitation, Tian made throwing gestures...and knives appeared in his hands as he threw. A trio of deadly missles sailed through the dark air, striking the short sword wielding guard in the back of the neck, shoulder, and lastly in the back of the head. The weapon tumbled from their hand as they reached weakly for the steel buried in their skull, but before they were even halfway there, they collapsed in a spreading pool of blood and piss.

Tian calmly stepped up beside Lorica, wary of getting stabbed despite the aid rendered, and snatched his throwing knives from the corpse, wiping it off on their clothing. Looked like you could use a hand, Princess Pissed. What say you and I go and murder the [removed] out of everyone we see? We can look for the armory while we're at it, but I need to let off some steam.

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Tanya
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The constantly-flowing river that composed her left arm was already tinted with blood when the doors were finally opened. Tanya stepped out of the cell and smiled. Scraps of dead flesh still hung from her teeth. "You know, I don't think I've ever committed piracy before," she remarked to Caedis. "Let's see how it feels."

The vampire didn't answer, instead cracking the knuckles on her disembodied arm. Her smile faded. He'd spent a long time in prison already, and she still wasn't entirely sure what effect it had had on his mind. He wasn't screaming, but he was visibly twitchy, even at this distance.

She had little time to worry about him before Ansgar shouted that the sailors were locking the ship down. As soon as he did, she poured on the speed, targeting any groups of sailors who seemed close to getting a door locked. As she bolted towards one of the nearest groups, she shouted advice over her shoulder. "If you need weapons to fight, find the armory. If you need magic, hang back. If you're good as-is, help clear the guards on the way to both buildings. Caelum, see if you can get Carmen on her feet and then go open cells. Caedis--" The vampire was grinning from ear to ear, sparring with one of the crewmen using Tanya's severed arm as a weapon. He dodged an ax blow and slammed the elbow into the crewman's head. Tanya blinked. "Er--as you were."

Alex approached the vampire and handed him the keys to the cell. He checked them to see if there was any way to know which went with which cell and then darted off down the line of cells, still dragging her arm behind him. Caelum accompanied him, intending to try to explain the situation to the prisoners.

She leapt over a spear, colliding with its wielder and knocking him bodily into a wall. His head smashed against it, and he slumped to the ground, unconscious. Tanya's left hand morphed into a large cleaver as the four other guards defending the cuilding surged forward. She slashed one across the throat, leaving a shallow, watery wound, and bit deep into another's shoulder with her teeth. A sword whisked over her head and buried itself in the wooden wall. She grabbed it and used it to pin the arm of the fourth guard to the door. Her fifth and final opponent was easily dispatched with a kick to the side of the head.

The moment all five were incapacitated, she moved on to the next building. She was fairly sure most of them weren't dead, and not all of them were even unconscious, but they wouldn't be able to lock their building down without time to recover, and time was in short supply. She shot several bolts of lightning from her eye at a group of guards that was further away, wounding a few and disrupting the efforts of the others.
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Arthur
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Arthur watched silently as the guard was killed and the keys taken. A woman tried to make noise about their escape but was crushed by Ansgar. Arthur felt no remorse for her and if it had been him he would have done the same. Soon the cell was open and those were freed fully went full fight. Arthur himself still had the collar and even though it wasn't the same he knew it would hurt if he tried his magic. So Arthur stood up with the rest waiting Caedis to get the collar off.

Soon it was done and Arthur cracked his neck glad to have that feeling off him. He then summoned his sword from the pocket plane. Arthur smiled wickedly, he was angry, angry at his captors, angry at the one who got them here. They would find one did not cage a dragon without consequence. Still he would not let the rage take over. That would be bad for them all. To bad the others were still on the ship or it would be burning now. But he knew better than to use his fire here.

Arthur ran to the top of the deck with only his sword and no other armament.Rain pelted down on him but he ignored. He wondered about his armor but he would find his admantium armor after they had succeeded. He saw others engaging the guards. He could tell who was who thanks too their gray attire. He ran forward and started fighting. He slashed, cut, and ran all to quickly for the guards to follow. He was dancing in and out a constant flow of motion. If he got scratched or cut he took no notice. His sword was a blur as he took down guard after guard.

He saw Tian helping Lorica he believed that was her name. Seeing them well in hand he looked for the Captain of this ship. If he got to him he could end this in a hurry. So he moved toward where Ships Wheel was hoping the Captain was there.

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Mobster Man
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Yurim followed the best he could, helping the others get out. When the group made it the outside... Yurim knew the place. Yurim swore aloud, "We're in the Wine River Corridor. This place was basically my backyard when I was a kid. While I would love to get my knives and shuriken back I'd be put to better use getting to the Navigation room. I'll find us the nearest town and steal a map or two."

He turned to run off, but stopped to look back, "If someone finds two Daggers of Torment and a trio of magical shuriken, please return them to me. The shuriken are red, blue, and yellow, while the daggers are serrated and have red leather wrapped handles." With that said he would make his way towards Navigations, he needed to stay useful or else he felt he'd just be left behind, he needed to set something up, get them an idea of where they could go.
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Anci
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It had worked to Anci’s delighted surprise. They were out, they were seizing back their lives one step at a time, one body at a time. The confinement in the cell had been a bit crazy, but now it was a riot with the shouting and yelling of the prisoners, the guards and her fellow zakona. Ansgar was smart, or at least experienced in these situations. For the moment they had the initiative, they needed to keep pushing before the guards could respond effectively. Lore had armed herself with weapons taken from the dead, others were producing them through magical means.

She had retracted Rasaki, the constant throbs of pain coming from her bindings when it was out was too much to just leave it out passively. The others didn’t seem too bothered by it, but it was possible that producing a weapon from beyond was just a one time sting. Anci had to be conservative with her use. Coming up the stairs behind the others lead to a surprising revelation.

The fact that they were on a boat was more promising than a prison. Depending on the location, escape would be a lot more possible than from some lifeless pit in the ground surrounded by who knows how many literal and metaphorical walls. The cold rain sweeping in through the open frame was a nasty discovery. It made Anci all to aware of how shoddy the prisoner out fit was.

Breaking out really was a mistake, at least back there it was warm.

Lore was already getting to work, others were joining her push but Anci was worried she’d get bogged down in cutting people down. They needed to take the buildings.

Behind you, Lore!” Anci shouted as she pounded across the deck. The wood was slippery from the icy glaze that formed out of the rain that was making footing even more treacherous. She had a bit of skill in keeping her balance, twisting and pushing with her hands as needed when one of her feet slipped out from under her. The cold was what was getting to her more. She couldn’t feel the bottoms of her feet anymore, part of her was worried the ice might be cutting them up and she’d have no way of knowing until after the fact. They needed to get inside and quick.

She slapped Lore on the back as Tian retrieved his knives out of the body of the cudgel-wielding guard. Anci momentarily thought to take the cudgel for herself, but seeing the body on the ground gave her an idea. “We are going for that building- Ngghhh- The-there!” Anci was hissing out the words after the sharp pain of pulling Rasaki out again hit her. Whipping the heavy blade around as it cut a path through the freezing rain, this was probably the lowest point of her time in Balefire now. The sweet touch of relief as she let the blade go to impale itself into the wall of building was short lived as the prickling pain was following up along Rasaki’s structure and throughout her frame.

Step on the body!” She shouted at Lore, a little unnecessarily but between the clamor of combat and Lore’s own lethal focus Anci wanted to make sure it was clear. Wrapping Rasaki’s chain around her own midsection, she planted her feet on the guard’s body at an angle while holding onto Lore. Her outstretched arm had tangled more of Rasaki’s chain around itself just as it started reeling them in and across the slippery deck. The hand wrapped around Lore dug into tight as she pressed against her. The agony of Rasaki pulling that much weight while anchored to her skeleton felt magnified by the bindings of the manacles and collar and it was taking a considerable effort to keep from crying out or breaking down.

They needed to take the barge quickly.

OOC and stuff



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Keter
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With the sound of a horn marking the beginning of the jail break, everybody began rushing for freedom, not only ready and willing to kill anybody who stood in their way, but to Keter's eyes they seemed more than happy to make their jailers pay. The Black Monkey calmly moved himself against the wall of the cell as his associates charged for freedom and vengeance. It was a sentiment he could understand, the wrathful desire to escape confinement, but this case of incarceration had been too short for him to be nearly as feverish for escape. He simply watched with amusement as they charged through their foes, freeing more allies to join in the jailbreak who poured into the hall and out into the rest of their prison like dams had just shattered and were going to wipe out some unfortunately small village.

Before the other cells of inmates could begin escaping in their nearly hive-mind manner, Keter grabbed the body of the fallen orcish woman and dragged it back into the cell, looking for anything that could help him get the collar off of his neck a little sooner without the help of the currently occupied keys. A little piece of metal or a suitable piece of wood, abyss, the Black Monkey would even try breaking her bones through her flesh and trying quickly break that down into a suitable pick. From what he had seen, the locking mechanism was rather cleverly put on the back of the collar, a little awkward to maneuver towards, but when freedom from another damn collar was on the line he could deal with momentary discomfort to lose that unnecessary weight.

Whether or not he could succeed from the cell to get the collar off from around his neck through mundane means, after a short while Keter would leave his own cell and follow in the wake of destruction set before him at his own leisurely pace. If he was needed, which he doubted, then he would pitch into the fight, but otherwise there just seemed to be too many weaklings working as guards for him to bother looking for a worthwhile fight. Well, surely that would change. Balefire so far had not seemed like the sort of place that would just take a chance with prisoners, so there was probably one or a few serious threats lurking around the prison.

Ship. Prison ship. Right. Keter had still been a bit groggy and distracted, plus the restraints had seemed to nullify his Shadowdancing abilities, so he had not taken too close of an examination of his surroundings from within the cell. It was raining bitterly cold drops on the deck of the boat that appeared to be flowing down the course of a river. The Black Monkey was too tired to deal with the cold properly, and a cursory thought led him to a quick conclusion.

"<No, I feel no point in endurance training at the moment.>" Keter muttered to himself in the Nalaian tongue and began his search to scavenge fitting, relatively undamaged and blood-free clothing from the corpses of the guards. Actually, maybe a set a bit bigger than he required would be the best option to allow him a better range of motion if it came to combat.

After gathering some suitable threads, Keter would begin to explore the ship, using the chaos and his potential disguise to let him slip by without much trouble. If any guards were clever enough to see through his stealth and attack him rather than the bloodthirsty prisoners that had just been freed, then he would not hesitate to kill them for their insolence, and so too went the same for any prisoners who would mistakenly attack him for wearing clothing taken from their captors. Of course that was only if they could even notice him through the mayhem.

OOC

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Hearne
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Hearne leaned back against the wall of their cell, leaning his open palm where he'd tried to open the Way. Whispers and voices still echoed in his mind. He saw the darkness in front of his eyes everywhere he looked, as if he'd been staring into the sun. As it faded, he was reminded of what it was that bothered him about that darkness. It was the domain of the Lady Iuroch, Mother-of-Night. Shivering, he glared down at his shackles.

He'd been bound before and hadn't been a fan. More than once people had tried to keep him in check and he always found a way out of it. He was partly free to use his gift now, but it wasn't enough. If he couldn't get to his pocket plane, he'd have to carve his way out the only other way he was good at. But first, the shackles had to go.

Closing his eyes, he focused on the spark of light flickering within him, the fiery core that powered his magic. One of the first lessons of the House of Elders was the role emotion had to play in magic. Anger was a useful tool when forged into a driven passion, but raw and uncontrolled it led to rash decisions and loss of control.

He fed his fear and anger into that flame, envisioning rolling up parchments detailing what was riling him into tight scrolls and dropping them into the hearth at the Gingered Mare. The spark grew into a roaring flame and he pulled on that flame, fostering its growth into a small sun. Opening his eyes, light radiated from them like an ember slowly birthing flames. Sweat evaporated, his skin beginning to steam as he focused and drove that heat through his body, focusing it in his arms.

His skin began to glow from within. Rather than bone or tendons showing through, his skin grew translucent, showing the rivers of runework that made up his body. Flame sprouted around it like an aura, but it was kept in tight control, forming a smooth sleeve that ended each finger in a claw, his spellstream flesh a hot core in the flame.

Pain wracked him as he cast, but he fed it into the spell, driving his need to be free on. Light shone from his eyes and he grinned a death's head grin, teeth pointed and scrimshawed with harsh runes and patterns. The metal around his wrists and neck was rapidly heating, visibly beginning to warp. Wrapping his hands around the chains connecting his shackles, he pulled at the heated metal and it stretched like taffy, snapping and dripping away in his hands. Beads of molten metal began running down his neck and chest, leaving behind unmarred flesh.

He was the son of Mochain, the Father-in-the-Sky. Progeny of the sun trapped in this dark, cold place. Balefire was a place of eternal night, but it was time to let the sun shine in.

The core of the flames wreathing his arms was churning like the sun itself, arcs of golden fire running from elbow to fingertip. The ratty prison wear was charring away from the sleeves up, revealing his torso to be covered in what looked like years worth of scratches and wounds burning like small flames.

He hadn't noticed his companions in the fray of escape, but waded in eagerly after them. He didn't try to throw fireballs or waves of flame in these close quarters, but he found enough room to stand without harming his allies. One of the guards rushed him, opening his mouth either to issue a command or throw a spell, but Hearne didn't give him a chance. Reaching forward with both hands to intercept, he raked his burning claws down the man's front and found wonderfully little resistance. Each slash set clothes alight, split flesh, and when his clawed hands at the core of the flame connected, set his blood to boiling.

Gripping the man's face in a hand, he ended his misery quickly and dropped the smoking body to the floor, ascending to the deck of the ship. Rain hissed and steamed as it neared, but didn't quite put out the fires. Nevertheless he allowed the flames to subside, blazing eyes dimming to embers once more. The flames wreathing his arms receded and his flesh began to dim and return to its normal fleshy composition once more. The markings on his torso burned a little while longer before cooling to red marks on his skin, lightly coated in the sooty remains of his shirt.

His skin steamed and he embraced the rain, pushing his hair back behind his ears and squeezing water from his beard before taking in the chaos of the ship around him. They would have the ship now, and he doubted the guards tasked with transporting already-bound prisoners would be equipped to handle a gaggle of mages and a murder of thugs freed and furious.

Hearne lifted his sharpened fingernails to his brow and touched two spots, one above each eye. A mark lit where he touched, activating what was bound within. Two small spheres of flame hovered in front and over each mark, the jewels in a crown of floating embers that flared into being in a corona of flame around his head, two additional spheres of light floating on the outside of their respective flames. Satisfied, the Heirophant son of Mochain went in search of the Captain of this ship.

OOC
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Storyteller[ST]
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Everyone

Lorica, you flip your cudgel and hand it to Ansgar, who accepts it with a nod. "It's no sabre, but I'll take it." Flourishing it in a few quick, spinning movements, he's a lot more deft than his bulk lets on, and the one-arm-behind-the-back fighting style reminds you of a prince or other goody-two-shoes, Lorica. As you launch into your fighting, your attention drifts away from the man you gave a weapon -- only to come back a little while later, when Ansgar barrels up behind an enemy coming your way and unceremoniously clubs him to death. He gives the bloody weapon a look and a shrug, then grins at you, Lorica. Tian, you dispatch Lorica's enemy and team up with her.

Another quick-moving enemy catches Ansgar's attention, but they're intercepted by Mira before they can reach Lorica. Alexandra, you hit whoever Mira doesn't with your limb. As many targets as you can. Alexandra and Carmen, you're both in agreement that all of the prisoners should be let out. One cell after another, cluttered groups of destitute prisoners are freed. The majority of them rush out of their cells to join the riot with fervor. Others are too sick, broken or defeated to bother. The extra manpower is a huge help in securing the barge's deck.

Further helping your situation is Tanya's hustle to prevent an escalation of the lockdown, which catches Ansgar's attention. The draconid parts from the fight on the deck to help "unlock" buildings or, at the least, prevent them from being locked in the first place. In the middle of his efforts he meets up with three of you (Arthur, Yurim, and Hearne) in front of the building nestled offset into the center of the deck. "This is the bridge, boys. Nav and captain. Oy, kin dragon-cursed. Want to do the honors or shall I?" If you give him the go-ahead, Ansgar kicks down the door and sends it flying off its hinges (or you can do it yourself, Arthur). Inside, a staff of navigators and the captain are blocked by a group of ready guards. Ansgar snorts at the three of you. "Good luck. I'll go help with the other buildings." How are you going to handle the captain and navigators? Will you kill them?

Anci, you invent a new sport as you whisk Lorica away to prioritize taking the buildings. Working in loose association with Tanya and the others going for the buildings, but avoiding the bottleneck at the bridge, you move through with shocking effectiveness considering your group's track record in being coordinated. As a team you secure buildings and pacify barge employees. Coming from the bridge, Ansgar joins the lot of you and provides assistance opening doors, intimidating non-combats, and securing the various rooms.

Keter, you hang back to search the jailmaster's body. While you can't find anything that'll help you get your collar off -- you suspect they might have been put on before your unconscious body was loaded into this cell, maybe down in Balefire even -- you do find something interesting in her pocket.

Memorandum

You also forgo fighting in favor of new clothing. The barge guards wear thick, warm clothing as close to waterproof as they can make it. Outfitted in your disguise of sorts, you take to skulking around the barge. You gain a good understanding of the watercraft's layout. A few prisoners do attack you over the course of your endeavor -- possibly more out of entropy than detection skill on their part, as the deck is absolutely crowded with prisoners now. You're able to subdue them without too much trouble.

Glug, you're lucky that the man you killed was of a species with dense bones; a normal bone splinter would have been too brittle to serve as a pick. You're freeing yourself successfully, but the cost of your efforts is time. While you work on your shackles, you miss most of the fast-paced action -- and your "friends" probably noticed you standing around helping yourself while they were working for the whole group's behalf. But hey, at least you have a makeshift lockpick now. The armory is still locked.


Everyone

The freezing rain picks up again, pounding the deck of the barge. As enemies become scarcer, swarms of rioting prisoners look for cover in whatever building they can, shivering and soaking wet. The injured try to drag themselves to shelter; a few are half-frozen onto the deck already. Unless you're Hearne or Alexandra, you're freezing too. A few of you who've been exposed to the open elements in mere prisoner's rags have blue lips, chattering teeth.

If you're outside or have a view of all the carnage, you notice something peculiar: arrows are sticking out of several of the corpses. You might have just assumed in the heat of the moment that someone had stolen a bow and was going to town, but no one around you appears to be an archer of any sort.

Alexandra, you feel a familiar pain. Your unnatural arm bends inside-out, metal peeling into strips at the joints until they're corkscrewing into nothingness. Sharp pains claw at your eyes. Slashes open around them, oozing a substance with the same consistency as ink. When the rain washes it away, you're left with black gouges around your eyes that will probably take some time to heal. By then, your helpful arm and shoulder have broken apart and disappeared; you don't even have a stump, although you're not bleeding.

Once the sounds around the barge quiet down, all of you realize that further evidence of a struggle is barely audible a bit upstream, drowned out by the rain. A short distance away, another prison barge facing the opposite direction is being pulled toward the shore by almost a dozen grappling hooks attached to the side of the deck. As soon as you realize that much, a series of collective impacts rattle one side of your own boat. A few of you might have seen it: all the grappling hooks flying through the air and snapping taut around the rim of the watercraft. As the other barge upstream is being pulled to one side of the river, you're being pulled to the other side.

"Come out! Come out onto the deck, everyone, everyone! Let me see those bright, smiling faces!" The voice is coming from the forest on the shore, for now. An arrow hits the deck, unfurls, belches smoke, and a man walks out. He's tall, skinny, young-looking, maybe in his early twenties and wearing all the clothing expected of someone who lives in the backswamps. However, an iron bite mask caked in frost is secured around the bottom half of his face. He's also wearing a mask on the back of his head that's painted with two huge eyes, creating an awkward crisscrossing pattern of straps between his cheeks.

Bow slung around his shoulder, he holds up both empty hands once all of you gather round, most likely huddling in areas of roof overhang so you're blocked from the rain. "Imagine my surprise when I was glassing y'all: a bunch of prisoners just bust out that door! Hilarious! Good job doing all the work for us." He literally applauds your efforts. "Did y'all kill the Captain? Just curious, don't matter neither way." While the man is speaking, the barge you're on is getting pulled dangerously close to the dark mangroves and cypresses on or just off-shore. You can see groups of people in the shadows on dry land, working with all the gear and getting things ready for boarding. The man in the bite mask rushes over to the edge and starts heaving to get the loading ramp ready to hit the water. As the barge hits the river's shallows, you feel a judder and a series of scrapes on the hull beneath you. The man just laughs it off rather than being worried you guys will spring a leak or something.

The people and beasts boarding the ship you just secured can only be described as sketchy. Highlights include a man with raggedy bird wings, a few working-umbra with prosthetic limbs, and a woman with a metal jaw and burns covering one side of her body. They don't seem very talkative, issuing all of you hard and appraising stares as they load all their horses and gear onto the barge.

"Anyone got the cargo hold and armory open yet?" the man in the bite mask turns and says to you. "Need help? Pfft, you don't, you got one guy with a lockpick and another who looks like he could lift the walls clean off. Don't mind me, go get your shit. Sure as hell earned it, and big brother just wants live bodies anyways." He starts muttering about how thorough the job you guys did was, so you get the impression your efforts hadn't all been in vain.

As you make your way to the armory, you notice that the other barge has more or less finished things up and is coming over to board against yours. Before you can greet those particular arrivals, you need to find your belongings. First of all, how do you open the armory?

However that goes, you're in, and you've got plenty of backup to search the everloving crap out of those heavily stocked crates and shelves. Ansgar has joined you, and he's not happy if the grunts are anything to go by. "Something's wrong. Anyone found all their stuff?"

No, actually. No one has. In fact, you're only able to find three items of yours despite tearing up the place. (Which three items in your inventory have you found? All other items in your inventory are still missing. If you want to obtain more gear, you'll need to get your hands on it IC. You also have no money and there is no money in this armory, either.)

With your recovered equipment in tow, you head back outside. Standing in the pouring, freezing rain is a man with his shoulders relaxed and hands resting in the pockets of his long riding-coat. A storm hat obstructs your view of his eyes. What little of his face you can see lets you tell he's humanesque, with a square jaw and huge rips across his skin. One of his arms is replaced by scratched metal pieces shaped like stylized bones. Upon seeing you as a group, his mouth splits into a thin smile.

"I know you people. Saw your faces in the records," he says. "You're the Wine River Pariahs. You're famous -- a few nights north and north-east, at least. I reckon that fame'll spread quicker than you like."

"What was that, brother?" the younger man in the bite mask says, coming up alongside him. "These are the Pariahs?"

"This is good. I was hoping they'd ship you west. Damn, though, y'all're really something. Blueprints stolen, scorchliner explodes, now you bust out of prison on your own power. You could really be something. Anyway, the name's Viktor, and this is my little brother Yevhen. Let's get out of this shitty weather, alright? I'll get some soup going and we can get all cozy in the staff quarters building. Wanna know all your names, too. Got a few hours before we hit Nine Angels."

You're free to do what you want for a while. The gang that just secured both the barges has all the ship's maneuvering and navigation covered. Once you're ready, you should probably go sit around and chat with Viktor. He even has a job for you to help you get some coin right after securing your freedom for the time being.


OOC
 
Breather Round I - October 2 to October 8

This post begins a breather round. The next ST post cutoff is at 9:00am Mountain on Saturday, October 8, 2016. Remember that you can post in Cairns as many times as you want during the breather round (within reason). Please avoid using Discussion to interact with other players during the breather round; just post in the topic itself, it's okay if your posts are short. You can still use Discussion to interact with anything under ST's control such as NPCs, but once the breather round ends ST will only post IC in Discussion once per day out of fairness to the more casual members.

You have three tasks during this breather round. Also don't forget about the job you were offered in this post (linked within the body of the post).


Roleplaying: Interaction (Optional)

You have as much time as you want to interact with fellow PCs and any NPC in the area. NPCs of particular relevance include Zuraw, Ansgar, Viktor Dalca and Yevhen Dalca. If you're busy or need a break, posting at all during the breather round is optional. However, I'll warn you that in previous ST topics, characters who developed stronger connections had a tendency to be more successful.


Vote: The Fork in the Road (Mandatory)

You as a group have a choice to make that will affect everything from this point on. Are the Wine River Pariahs, as you're now known, going to make a break for freedom or gear up for some revenge? Read here for more information and instructions on how to cast your vote. What story do you want to tell?


Side Activity: The Wine River Pariahs (Mandatory)

You're not just among the first zakona now -- you're a zakona who has escaped from the clutches of Balefire and is now at-large. But who is Balefire hunting? In this mandatory side activity, create a wanted poster for your character and discuss with the ST some goals you might have for future markers of notoriety (such as nicknames). Read here for instructions.


(Keter, the Ethereal will want your story soon.)

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Tanya
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When they finally broke into the armory, all of her potions were gone. That was hardly surprising. They were expensive and difficult to make, and she was sure some bastard Lord in Balefire had been able to pull a few strings and to keep them around. She was, however, able to find her basic medical kit, which contained magical bandages and simple poultices for mild wounds. She also found her magic wanted poster, a tool she hadn't used for ages. She'd never been able to see it display her own picture before. She was looking forward to the experience.

She was about to give up and leave when she spotted the next artifact. It was completely unremarkable--just a feather quill--but when she got close enough to recognize it as hers she knew it was easily the most valuable item she'd found. She went back on deck to scrounge up a piece of paper, scratched a rune into the corner, and began writing.
Far away, back in Cascadia, one of the sheets on Scrubknot Greenhorn's desk began to write a message entirely on its own. The goblin, glad of the distraction, set aside the documents she was filling out and began to read.

Scrubknot-

You were right. The job was a scam, and the whole thing's gone south. Caedis, Caelum and I have been declared zakona. We escaped and are on the run.

Listen: don't let the company get involved. Balefire isn't even giving convicts trials. If we spin this right, we can still come out on top, but only if you keep out of it. People like dangerous outlaws, but they hate corrupt businesses. As far as you're concerned, I'm just an employee who turned criminal. Build our assets, build our influence, and let us handle ourselves.

-Madame Tanya

P.S. Don't disavow me too much, though. There's going to be a lot of people resisting this turn towards fascism, and they might be taking their business up to Cascadia. I always wanted to be a martyr. Actually, that's not true, but it's not turning out to be so bad.

Her note finished, Madame Tanya fetched several more sheets of paper and etched the rune on each one. Bad communication was catastrophic to plans. She passed the papers out to everyone who had been in the cell with her, as well as to Ansgar, Viktor and Yevhen.

IMPORTANT NOTE: Tanya is giving every PC and major NPC a sheet with this rune scratched on it with the communiquill. It's not quite as efficient as metamanas, but it will allow us to keep in contact at a distance.

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