Guard 4 is quick to join his comrade, drawing his sword and pointing it at the dragonborn. "Ehh, stop that!" He shouts.
Same as Guard 1. 15' away, readying.

It was a success. She picked up the sharp shard of rock and held it firmly in her hands. Witnessing the fight that had already begun, she decisively entered herself into stealth [Roll: 17]. She travelled onward whilst sticking close to as much darkness as she could. Had anyone decided to move within her reach, she would initiate her assault.

@darkandstar@The Harbinger of Ferocity@EruditeAssassin@Hekazu

Travok heard the thrown rock colliding with the floor and quite literally jumped. He had to be glad the gemstone was as big as it was or he could've risked swallowing it in his surprise. He spat it out into his hand and pushed it back behind his beard, ready to be brought out quickly in case something bad was going on.

And boy if it wasn't already a royal mess by the time he had stopped assessing the situation and it was about time to act. The dragonborn kept throwing rocks, the bigger human and the elf were visibly ready for a fight and the guards were preparing for a fight as well. Travok was unsure what to do.

Seriously, what on earth were these guys doing, starting an open riot as soon as they got out of their chains? There could well still be people on the other side of the door to reinforce these ranks! He backed off a few steps and looked at the smaller human cellmate that had told Travok to stick with him. Perhaps he knew what to do in this situation? Travok so badly wanted to ask him "what do I do?", but he couldn't risk doing it out loud...

Little did he know, his will to ask it alone had already carried the message to this man. His encounter with the slumberer had in turn ended the slumber of his mind, letting him project thoughts to others. And indeed, the frail man would hear this question ring within his head, evidently not one of his own thoughts.

Travok grasped his Arcane focus firmly, preparing to utilise his patron's power to fire at any guard that he would have a proper line of sight to (or the best alternative anyway) if this other man showed any signs of wanting to join the combat.

Guard 2 joined his allies

Guard 3 begins running off towards the door.

The frail man reached under his rags, responding aloud to the dwarf, "Forgive me." And with that, he pulled out a rock-based shiv and attempted to draw blood from the dwarf, in as non-hostile a way as he could achieve.


Guard 1 shoves the boulder off of him and returns to a standing position.

The exchange only found itself further escalated the moment one man broke away from his comrades and headed for the door, his boots crunching loudly across the rough stone surface as they pulverized smaller bits of gravel. Moving as fast as he could carry himself, there was to be no doubt things would likely turn worse yet if he could succeed in opening the enormous wooden structure, although it would take some time to undo its bar - even if he could rouse whoever might be on the other side. It was for this reason the man was intercepted, his path cut off nearly mid stride, by the far larger human figure who thundered across the mine's shaft.

Heading him off, he menaced a powerful warning from his now dry, dusted lips; "You are going to get us all killed if you open that door!"


Blocking the path he forced the man to choose and make a choice that would not be made lightly. He could potentially rush past the larger man, certainly, but then turn his back and leave himself exposed, then attempt to fumble with the door? It threatened death, as one clean shot with the mattock was a tremendous deterrent - a mortal danger. He could try to struggle with and shove aside the other man, but the sizable figure and stature of it made that a gamble rather than an assured victory. Withdraw? It seemed certain enough that Branor's words and demeanor were less aggressive and more clearly not willing to die outright if all things permitted.

It was all well worth the attempt, or so the exile thought as he brought the old tool to arms, staring down the other man with a savage golden stare. Feet parted and squared away, footing of a man who favored a great weapon, there was a determination to his action that spoke volumes; if it came to blood now, it would come to blood.

No more words.

@darkandstar@EruditeAssassin@Hekazu@VKAllen

Tarhun walked slowly towards the guards, purposely slamming his feet as hard as he could into the earth to make the rocks around him vibrate on the floor. "Now listen, humans. My friends and I will be leaving this place regardless of your compliance. I suggest you drop your weapons, or prepare to forfeit your lives."

In a show of strength, Tarhun drove his pick into the wall nearest him, rending another human sized chunk of earth from the mountain.



Tarhun is now 10 feet from the guards.

Guard 4 lunged forward towards Tarhun, drawing his sword in what would be a waist-to-shoulder cut if it may impact.

She remained close to the wall in stealth observing the others. There wasn't any reason at all for her to fight in this battle... Perhaps she should stand back and turn herself to the other slavers working in the mine, attempting to rally them against the guards...

(Making an attempt to incite the slavers to riot. Roll: 1) (BRILLIANT!)

While Travok had originally attempted to defend himself, the feebleness of the man's attack in combination with his apologies made him think the man was not really attempting to hurt him. "I bleed only for my god, weak man. I hope this is worth spilling the essence of life from my veins", Travok muttered in an ice cold tone before turning to face the rest of the fight.

This whole fight was a mess. Why did it even have to start in the first place? He couldn't understand the hostility the dragonborn had shown, but perhaps he'd get the chance to ask the fellow about it. Now though, the important thing was to survive until that point. It seemed as if one of the guards tried to approach the door... he'd need to do something about it.

He held the gemstone before him, pointing it at the guard looking to fight against the big human from his cell. This cellmate apparently had had a similar idea of stopping him, as Travok was quite sure he had been standing in that row with others just a moment ago. Hopefully he could dodge well in case of a miss...

"C'Thun. C'Thun! C'Thun!" he once more called out for his patron, this time leaving less time between the shouts. The crackling blast of purple energy erupted from his focus and flew towards the guardsman.

Guard 2 jumps to Tarhun, and tries to wrestle him to the ground.


Guard 3 attacks Ashkar, stabbing out in a lunge.


The Frail Man runs off towards the door, with Guard 3 and Ashkar, "Follow me, all who want to live!" Although dramatic, he was loud enough to draw the attention of a few of the prisoners, who quickly began shuffling after him.

Guard 1 runs up to Tarhun, and holds his sword up. "Surrender!"

"You leave me with no choice, friend." The great man's figure postured slightly with a shaking of his head side to side, sending his roughly cut ebon hair swaying while he spoke in grave tone.

Eyes threatening with fearsome resolve, even while fixated upon the man who drew nearer now with blade unsheathed, there was a moment of calm before true combat was met; a single ringing blow sounded out as a hit was scored upon the dragon's scales and the scent of spilt blood ran stronger than that of before - crimson spattering to the dusty, thirsty earth. The air to Branor tasted of iron and there was no doubt that the point of no return was entirely behind them all.

The guard lunged, stabbing forward with cold steel, but the profile of his foe suddenly narrowed before him; the exile rotating his body out of the way, the guard carried on the attack then only to be struck by a vibrant bolt of purple energy at chest height. Staggering slightly, his attack completely thrown by the defender's motion and the unexpected shot, he was unprepared for the avenging blow the prisoner returned.


Stepping in and striking at the same time with familiar ease, the far larger of the two lashed out with the blunt of the mattock where it was affixed to the wooden shaft at its head; the broad blow aimed directly at the guard's chest, it was set to send him sprawling to the rocky floor if it connected strongly or at least create some room to fight in. Following with unnatural speed, the weapon and its wielder shifted its momentum immediately after the shunt, drawing back in and hammering down with the biting end of the heavy tool coming from above. If it landed, it was a crushing strike with the fiercest portion of the tool turned weapon and one that would even tear through sturdy plate with ease.


All that the "savage" could think of clearly was the scent and how it drove him to unleash a terrible blow upon the other man before him. Narrowed eyes shifting only for a moment in instinctual response to the movement, he shot the frail man and his rallying escapees a vicious glare, then returned to his grim business, drawing back from his attack and setting to ready at arms.

@darkandstar@EruditeAssassin@Hekazu@VKAllen

Guard 2 leaned in to grapple with Tarhun; a huge mistake, as he had merely made himself a weapon with which to fight. With his one free hand, Tarhun grabbed the mans throat and prepared to throw him back into Guard 1.



Adrenaline from the slash he had received from Guard 4 gave incredible strength to his muscles, and with the pick in his right hand he drew it back and cleaved into the guards armor with incredible strength.

(Acrobatics Check: 17)

The prisoner's grasp wrapped around her strong, but her slender and slim build slithered around the prisoner's body like eel. She was absolutely stunned upon the events that occurred-- fast. The frail man had rallied the others and she was torn to two different fronts as she observed the two fighting... Certainly an opportunity too good to be missed. Neither them or the frail man could be trusted, but he did attempted to get the blood of the dwarf for some reason.

She pondered over as quick as she could; the Frail Man had lingered her longer than any four. Had he devised some sort of plan to get us out? The only person who's got some plans fabricated would definitely be him... But a touch of a sword would likely to send this man over to the bucket. She grasped the pickaxe and moved in to the guard being attacked by the human. Bringing it down with great fatigue and grunted as it made impact.

(Attack roll: 3

If knocked prone by Branor, Attack Roll (advantaged): 11

Pretty sure none of these hit)