Although it was pretty impossible to tell what time it was in hell considering there was no sun, Manus provided natural light, and fluctuated like the light on earth. Taking that into consideration, it was about dusk. The light of hell began to wane, the general surroundings darkening just a bit, and a more pinkish tint enveloping it all like a blanket of flesh. Once all was said and done and everyone was on the run it would be night, or a close approximation.

Currently, the group known to our narrator as the "Hellscapers" was approaching the "Hell Penitentiary for the Insane or Stupid." Run by the Cambion named Nefas, this was their target for the night. Break in, get Betty, break out. It was a decently sized building, nothing huge exactly, but it was large enough to hold those who Nefas thought didn't deserve to be roaming around on his streets. Currently, visitor hours were over, no people entering or leaving it seemed. The group likely wouldn't be able to go past the small entry room without attracting attention. And bullets. There were also surely a guard or two in said entry area, so if they wanted to talk, they'd ought to do it on the way there.

"Hey." Crackled the speakers of the group's Dataslabs to their owners. It was Barkeep, judging by the voice, who would be providing support from his bar. Though the group probably couldn't keep checking their slabs, he could. At least, that's what he told them when he insisted he stay behind. Still, the small pistol and slightly cracked Dataslab he provided Kritch would make him invaluable in getting to Betty.

"Are you guys getting close?" Barkeep asked, no anxiousness in his voice, almost as if he was asking a friend if they were near a meet up spot. "Tell me once you get in, and be sure to stick to the plan, okay? Nefas is one tough customer, and as weak as some of those guards are, them ganging up could get one of sneakier you guys."

With that, his voice cut out, done with the thought. The prison again got bigger, more menacing, taking up more of the horizon as it was approached. If one wanted to back out, now would be the time. But the Hellscapers weren't the kind of people who backed down easy. Or backed down at all. They were the kind of people who sought what they craved and satisfied themselves. Yes, maybe even in that way. Looking at you, Deprave.

Anywho, who's ready to escape hell?

The Tale of Jonathan Light, the valiant Crusader of Constantinople begins here.

The crusader knocked on his shield to gather the attention of the party. He pointed to the relatively close asylum when the party turned to face him. No words were exchanged by him, instead he turned to face the asylum and thought about the most appropriate strategy to get this demon out of that place. "The guards here seem flimsy and unreliable, although a bunch of them could probably get us in a bad spot. Deprave and Gardener will cause too much suspicion to the guards if they try to get Betty out, and Grog is probably more suited for distracting this time. There's an exposed ventilation shaft there, though. Villiam could probably go through the vents as gas, which would cause not a lot of suspicion, although that'd be risky if he splits up via air currents going to different places... although... we do have Kritch and Tobias..."

Jonathan went over to the two rogues and handed his tent to Kritch. Two hands seemed handier for this than one, no offense to Tobias. He then spoke, which surprised a bit of the group. "This tent is a separate dimension. Get Betty into it then dismantle it. Get the tent out after she's in. Go through the vents to get to her." Jonathan stopped speaking immediately afterwards, and went over to the front of the prison and stood, waiting for the guards to notice him so he can be a diversion.

A strange squeaking plastic-on-leather sound originated from Grog's pants. He walked with erratic speed, rarely holding the same trajectory for more than five seconds. With one hand, he held his trusty Beatstick, resting it on his shoulder, while, with the other, he carried a bucket that sloshed violently as it swung from side to side, its' contents concealed by a cloth. Various stored materials and tools, as well as his massive, iron reinforced mug rattled from inside his utility belt, completing the cacophony. He whistled a muffled tune merrily as he walked, but was cut abruptly as the party stopped. Laying the bucket down, Grog's first thought was to retrieve his tankard.

"Power pint! Beer!" He commanded, as the cup wheezed, and quickly filled itself to the brim with icy cold stout. It had been ages since he last had a drink, and he needed to keep a clear head, he thought. Guzzling it down with horrifying speed, he exhaled loudly and, now satisfied, turned to face the prison complex. He quickly turned around towards the crusader, as he was about to instruct the rest on something.

"This tent..."

"Holy fuck, I can't believe that there's an actual knight speaking." Grog's inner monologue echoed.

"...then dismantle it..."

"This is the tightest shit. The bee's fucking knees. I bet he has a dragon." He bit down on his lower lip and gleefully grinned behind his mask, lost in daydreams about draconic aerial combat.

"...the vents to get to her."

Grog had paid zero attention to anything that was just said, but wasted no time and quickly spoke up to add his two cents.

"Yeah, cool, this all sounds great. But I think we said something a while back about someone grabbing the prison guys' attention. Attentions. Att- You get what I'm trying to say.

Thankfully, I've taken this time to hatch a plan."

This was, of course, a lie. Grog had been mentally disconnected from the entire space-time continuum for the past two hours, only to form this "plan" of his two minutes ago, after discovering that he was carrying the final remnants of his firework stash.

"You guys do whatever you want, I'll get real close to sing sing over there and you can bet your sweet be-hinds they'll have their eyes on me for a good long while."

Villiam stood within the center of the group, unafraid to actively engage in conversation with the others. This seemed a particularly odd decision as he was made of living poisons and pollutants, so you'd be forgiven for thinking he would avoid contact with others. You'd also be wrong. Villiam was not one to shy away from others at all. In fact, you could say that he had quite the charming personality. Quite the manipulative one, too. But then that's par for the course with clinical antisocial disorder, isn't it? And so the spirit of poison was the next to speak once Grog had, in Villiam's mind, displayed how much of a fool he was.

"There is merit in your idea of a distraction," he began softly, offhandedly complimenting the drunkard, "But even with your meager explosives you are one man, hardly worth the draw of the entire facility." The spirit pat a hand on Grog's back, making sure not to actively poison or burn the man despite the temptation. Meathead though he was, Grog was a member of the team, which made him... Useful. "Save your fireworks for my signal, dear Grog, and I assure you they will attain maximum effect. I volunteer myself to infiltrate the asylum, perhaps with a bodyguard as teams are safer than individuals, in order to corrode the prison cells. Once some inmates have been freed, surely a riot will begin, which can be further incited with your... Combustible flair."

With that, Villiam crossed his arms behind his back, turning toward the rest of the group. With such a distraction, I believe Sir Jonathan's plan can achieve maximum reliability. Our stealthy comrades can infiltrate unnoticed, while our more... Boistrous members shall have an opportunity to, shall we say, stretch their muscles? What say you, Your Eminence?" Villiam asked, turning to face Deprave, the Mayan Monstrosity. "We could not possibly come and go without ensuring these peons know of Your Eminence's inherent superiority, no?"

Toby stands next to Kritch, trying to understand what the plan is. Slightly confused, he looks around at the building and tries to see any vantage points and/or vulnerable points. "Couldn't someone get to the roof and keep watch?" Looks around at everyone. "Once we're inside, someone could cause a distraction big enough to get some of the guards out here, like what Villiam said, and while Kritch and I get Betty, the riot should provide us enough time to get in and out primarily unnoticed."
He looks at Jonathan. "While some of the guards are out here, the security won't be as tight inside." He looks at Kritch. "Right?"
As he loads his revolver, he makes sure his backpack is secure. Grabbing the teddy bear and strapping it to the side of the backpack.

Oh... How low Kritch has sunk in the past three years of his miserable life. Living among trash, surviving off scraps, and spying on people has brought him down to his supposed lowest point. However, little did he know that in his life he would find that there is actually a time in which that point would go even lower.

The paranoid rat was following a few paces behind the group, Kritch was slouched as always while he rubbed those two ugly hands together, his eyes scanning the area around him and his "teammates". These supposed teammates consisting of actually some of worst people in the hell-hole! A drunk belligerent brute that can't form a coherent thought for more than three seconds, a literal cloud of toxins and poisons that is acting rather suspicious with that buddy-buddy act, and the towering Cambion that is known for his horrible acts in Hell! In Hell! These people were the most dangerous to his safety and well being, Kritch put those three in high alert for most likely to maim or injure him on purpose or accident. Though the rest of the group? They were rather forgettable. The stoic knight, the child with a teddy bear, and that weird crab thing tagging along in the breakout. These three didn't stick out too much similar to himself, but still needed to keep an eye and high distrust on them for even the most unlikely person could be the person to actually betray him. Though, even with all of that, Kritch continued to follow the group ahead. Even if he couldn't trust anyone, the pay off of this mission was just too tantalizing for the rat. The prospect of escaping Hell itself... Too good to pass up, though Kritch was having second thoughts as the group had finally made it to their destination.

Kritch carefully scratched his tough skin, he was quite intimidated by the size of the place even though it was only a standard structure to normal beings. The rat didn't know if he could be sneaky enough to infiltrate such a heavily defended site, and the idea of the punishment for sneaking into prison wasn't the cleanest. Kritch sighed to himself, he reminded himself of the rewards ahead before the stoic knight piled some equipment onto himself. He gave some instructions to save this Betty with the strange object, and soon looked away from the group that were soon chiming in their own ideas. The drunk of course was mostly ignored by Kritch, the shifty ass cloud gave in their own two-cents trying to improve the already highly dangerous plan, and the child later added in some useless questions and ideas to the conversation. "Bah! Child-thing no work use for me! Smashed broke body too useless. I dash sneak into building by self to save rescue lizard-thing. Rest do whatever gas-thing said." Kritch announced, as he strapped on the tent to his back by tearing up long pieces of his useless cloth clothes. Kritch was actually going to agree with this plan as he could trust at least one thing of this group, that they could be dangerous. Their blood thirsty actions could easily hide the sneaking rat in the background, and that would mean a safer time to sneak around the complex. He just needed to wait for the distraction to make his break-in, if the group did their job Kritch should have a fairly easy time locating and rescuing Betty with the Dataslab that the Barkeep had given him. Though, that was only if everyone did their job with no screw-ups, but with this group it was obvious that something was going to go wrong on either end.

As the ill-assorted party came to a halt, Old N, who had up to that moment been placidly munching on a large, luridly red mushroom he had unaccountably produced from somewhere, stopped shuffling forward and remained still in his tracks, crouching slightly as his segmented limbs would allow. Thus far, he had paid only as little attention to is surroundings as what necessary not to stumble into something, reasoning that, as the others apparently knew in which direction they should proceed, he might as well spare himself the effort of remembering it; and, if such was the case, observing whither they were proceeding was rather pointless. He had therefore focused his attention entirely upon the mushroom, whose acrid, pungent taste prevented him from lapsing into somnolence as he walked - a mighty unpleasant experience, that, as he vaguely recalled from his previous travels. Presently, however, judging by the fact that everyone had begun to speak, they had reached their destination.

Old N cast a glance at the prison's ominous silhouette, appraised, not without some satisfaction, the silence, however grim, which seemed to emanate from it, then turned his attention to what the others were saying. The knight had put forth a plan of sorts, which, as far as Old N was concerned, did not apparently involve him; nor was he mentioned in any of the following suggestions. This appeared excellent; yet, he reflected, if he were to appear as contributing something meaningful now, there would probably ensue a higher likelihood of no one bothering him later on. Thus, in order to gain some semblance of helpfulness, he spoke up. He had, however, forgotten he was still chewing a piece of fungus, and the result was a sound which could best be rendered as "grrurrrb". Having swallowed the morsel, he made a second attempt, this time rather more successful: "Gwryes, I remain here. That is, I distract the guards - by remaining here, and lure them out. Then you can go in. Yes?" Barely coherent though his enunciation might have been, Old N trusted in its import to dissuade the others from devising any scheme which would involve him moving any further, and returned to finishing his mushroom before any notable action began.

As Deprave approached the penitentiary, he began chuckling to himself in a low tone. If that was what this Nefas individual called a prison, then he had poor standards; a building like that was tiny compared to his own palaces in life. How pitiful. More pitiful still, as time passed: the idea that so many of these individuals thought they could order him to do anything. At least the poison spirit had the right sort of attitude, though it was surely no more real than those of many of his peons in life and death alike. He knew their type. Hell, he damn near was their type, if he had any say on the subject!

Still, their transgressions could be punished later. Right now, the prison break was the main thing, and whilst he didn't appreciate being told what to do, he could agree that the plan itself was pretty smart. 'Sounds like my kind of plan!' he exclaimed with a smirk, his voice deep and notably uncultured for a royal- by modern standards, at least. 'The kind where I get to mutilate people. Haven't gotten to do something like that in a while... huhuhuhuh. Now, 'ere's a thought: if Kritch 'n' Toby go in with Vile, that's four of us left to wreak havoc outside, whilst you lot sneakin' round are relatively safe. Vile's got his pollution to fight with, an' all, just in case.' He imagined most of the others that'd remain outside would probably be pretty useless in a fight, the paladin for his lack of physique and the crab thing for its obvious laziness. So much the better for him, then; in the Depraved One's mind, all that meant was more violence to inflict personally. The thought was very endearing.

As the mismatched group of sinners discussed their plan and got closer to Nefas's headquarters, if they peered closely, they would be able to notice something. There was a young man with a security cap looking out at them. For a moment he gazed between them, scrutinizing them, before slowly turning back to his work. It seems they had been noticed, at the least, but to genuinely get his attention and draw fire, they'd need to be a bit more forward.

"Are you ready?" queried the voice of Barkeep. "If you aren't, now would be the time to leave. Now is also the time to begin, if you're staying. The longer we wait the more of a chance your driver has of being discovered. Be sure to tell me when you've got Betty, as well. Need to call her just a bit in advance to get the van ready."

'Well, whadda you think we're DOIN' right now, dipshit?!' Deprave half-yelled into his dataslab, not so loud as to be overheard by the prison, but enough to get his point across at least. 'We aren't AT the damn place yet!' With that said, he stowed his dataslab in its usual spot, then addressed the three person smugglers with an immense grin: 'And if you lot are going to start sneaking in, now's the time to split off and find your own way in.' That said, he promptly increased his movement speed, and jogged the rest of the way to the prison- more of a half-run, for anybody who was less than three meters tall- barging through the main doors and into the entry room of the place.

And then he started yelling at the top of his rather-large lungs.

'HEEEEEEEY!' he shouted, clearly enjoying producing so much drama if anyone cared to examine his expression, 'This prison is SHIT, and everyone in it except for me is a LOSER! What ASSHOLE gets themselves locked up in a crappy pit like THIS worthless pile of bricks?! And the prisoners are nearly that bad as well!' Loud belly-laughter joined the overall ruckus, sure to draw the attention of whoever was listening - maybe Nefas himself, or maybe just a large number of guards. Either way, he planned to enjoy starting this little fight. Maybe the other three could join in at some point, too.

"I guess we should get going." Puts on my backpack and tightens it around my body. Then draws my revolver and waits for Kritch. "How long do you think we have to get to Betty before they resume normal patrol?" Asks Vile with a slightly concerned tone. Then looks around the building for a door or vent. Then waits for Kritch to lead the way. "Do they have any motion activated alarms? Possibly facial recognition in the cameras?" Says with the same slightly concerned tone.

Jonathan raised his hand in preparation to speak out with a voice of concern. It was definitely not the best idea to go in and immediately start a fight. Either way, it happened, and Jonathan ran in for backup behind Deprave and positioned himself right in front of him and began to yell out.

"AS MY COLLEAGUE SAID, YOU MEN MUST BE IDIOTIC AND BARBARIC TO GET IN HERE! I SAY TO YOU FELLOWS, IF YOU CARE TO PROVE ME WRONG, FACE US HEAD ON WITH THE BALLS THAT HANG BETWEEN YOUR LEGS!"

Jonathans helmet glanced over to Deprave, and a look of 'was that good?' was exchanged to him. If Nefas himself showed up, it would be a team effort to take him down, with Deprave doing a large amount of the damage. One could say that the Mayan monstrosity would be the teams DPS.

Grog hung the tankard back to his utility belt, as the poison spirit expressed his thoughts on the matter. He hastily tucked a couple of fireworks that were left non-concealed back under his jacket, and weighed the situation. Just how did Villiam know he was about to use them? He was a smart bastard alright, but he was civil enough, perhaps too civil, to Grog. Even though he was sure that something was off about that spirit, he quickly dismissed the issue after hearing Villiam's view on his explosives. He let loose a disconcerting but gleeful chuckle, and puffed his chest, maniacally shouting an in-depth explanation of his invention, his tone oddly jumping from cheerful to somewhat annoyed.

"About what you said earlier... Your signal? Not worth the entire prison? Meager explosives!? Now, listen up my fine, semi-gaseous friend. One of these babies I'm carrying right here can illuminate an area approximately five meters wide by thirty meters long. They're compressed roman candles of my own making! They've got gunpowder, various salts and metal powders far exceeding the power of those found inside normal, legal -back on earth at least- fireworks and a cocktail of pellets consisting of WHITE PHOSPHORUS AND THERMITE. They won't just make a scene, they will BLOW. YOUR. MIND. Now, let's fucking RUMBLE!"

Just as he screamed his last few words, he heard chatter coming from his associates' dataslabs. Nifty pieces of machinery, they were. Grog thought about getting one of his own. Quickly diverting his attention towards the prison, the masked hoodlum picked up his pace, and, grabbing his pint, commanded it to conjure a mugful of Boilermaker. He messily downed it as he sprinted in an attempt to catch up with the others, spilling at least half of it on his way. As his speed steadily increased, he found the time to scream his lungs out, spewing nonsensical threats.

"YOU TELL 'EM BOYS! WHO'S STUPID ENOUGH TO GUARD A JAIL, IN HELL? WHERE ARE YOU EVEN KEEPING THEM FROM? YOU'RE ALL A BUNCH OF WEINER-SLOBBERING FUCKS!"

Having reached a suitably close distance from the containment facility, Grog stopped dead in his tracks. He retrieved a couple of fist-sized speakers from his belt, and placed them on the ground, one on each side. Hooking them up with a small walkman shoved in a pocket on his jackets' lining, he stood in silence, eyeing the imposing jailhouse. A gust of wind blew suddenly as Grog closed his eyes and breathed in, contently. A small tag reading "one use only" was carried away, the meager amount of sticky tape holding it in place finally giving way.

And then, a strange parody of a patriotic song began blaring from the tiny speakers, at physically impossible volumes. They were most definitely enchanted.

Wasting no time, Grog unzipped his pants. The leather garment was overflowing with previously mentioned miniature explosives, all connected by a single fuse string. He retrieved a lighter from his pocket and lit it. As the spark neared the payload, Grog lowered his mask and screamed one last insult before unleashing his divine, thermite-fuelled wrath.



His voice was instantly drowned in a whirlwind of pyrotechnics and national pride. The only thing that smelled worse than whatever ingredients the fireworks contained was the ever-increasing stench of burning crotch flesh. Grog spread his arms wide and laugh-screamed as the self-made inferno raged and burned brighter and brighter.

Villiam smiled internally as his manipulations began to take hold on a number of his "colleagues." Sure, some didn't trust him, but most went with his ideas regardless and that was what ultimately mattered in the short term. Then Grog decided to be a contrary ignoramus destructive force that would certainly cause a great distraction, but ultimately caused far less damage than Villiam's own scheme would have. Insignificant moronic drunk! All he had to do was wait, and I would have spread enough explosive gas to destroy the entire prison!

There was little to gain by worrying about the current situation, however. Deprave, Jonathon, and Grog had made their presence known and were fulfilling at least the rudimentary level of their job. Villiam, Kritch, and Toby Skinner were to infiltrate stealthily. Well, here was the opportunity. Best not to let it go to waste. Thankfully Villiam kept himself more or less out of sight from the guards, remaining separate from the offensive force getting the guards' collective attention. Sinking low to the ground. almost like a living, moving puddle, the spirit moved toward the prison's outer wall. From there, he pressed his entire body up against the barrier, converting his entire mass into a highly caustic corrosive meant to eat away at the wall. Once an entrance had been forged, he'd signal for the others to follow him inside. Once within the asylum, the murderous spirit kept an eye open for all prison cells. Each and every one of Nefas's prisoners was a potential tool. All he'd need to do was free them, and point them in the direction of the riot.

As he watched everything happen, he laughed softly while thinking, 'This is by far the best thing I've ever done.' Then he proceeded to follow Vile as best he could, considering he was trying to follow a puddle while keeping a low profile. When he entered the prison through the gaping hole in the wall, he looked at Vile and asked, "Could you get some of those guys in the cells to distract the guards? Like a riot? Or is that too dangerous." Then he smiled and waited for Kritch. "Oh, Vile, You do know how to set up a tent, right? Cause I only have one arm and I'm almost certain Kritch doesn't know how to." He said while looking at the edges of the hole in the wall. "I don'y know how you did that, but that is awesome."

Kritch had edged away from Grog just a bit further away when it came for his time to shine, insults were being slung at the prison to cause for a distraction for the group but soon things started to get a bit out of hand. Aside from the profanity spewing Deprave, the actions caused from the belligerent drunk caused for quite a scene that would garner almost all attention upon his actions. Musky explosions soon filled up the sky above, Deprave and Johnathan were also adding to the mix of distractions, but their voices were overwhelmed by the intensity of the spectacle. Kritch believed such insane actions could only be done by his plagued brothers, but it seemed that even their craziness was overshadowed by just the sheer amount of stupidity that radiated from that man. However, even though the actions done by Grog were horrendously dangerous and stupid, it gave the sneakier people an ample amount of time to infiltrate the prison. Though it seemed that two untrustworthy people were going to join him in this mission, one useless cripple and the other a strange creature made out of something deadlier than any decomposing body of the plagued rats. He couldn't trust these two at all.

The rat soon scurried in the shadows of the light show ahead, reaching the gaping hole that Villiam had created in no time, but the thought of Villiam corroding away solid concrete just insured that that thing shall never even walk behind him. The creature had arrived as well, the useless weight, but if the child wanted to waste their life it would be one less creature to worry about in this landscape. "Child-thing and gas-thing go move search ahead, I sneak creep faster alone." Kritch said, clasping his two malformed hands together as he muttered a few words to himself. Kritch squeaked at the end of his mumbling, his body soon exploding into a cloud of black smoke, and the dark particles wasting no time as it zoomed into the nearest ventilation shaft at immense speed.

Reforming inside the vent, Kritch reached into his tattered clothes and pulled out the strange device that the prideful barkeep had given to the grungy rat. Fiddling with the object for a few moments, following the basic instructions given by the human, the screen brightened and showed the map of the facility with the location of the target. Kritch's beady red eyes scanned over the bright screen for a few seconds before storing it back to his clothes that actually had no pockets. The rat stretched his grotesque muscles for a few moments before silently skittering along the vents of the facility, following the path of the vents in his mind to lead him to the lizard-thing's cell.

"Seems as though he doesn't want to wast any time, and I'm not a 'Child-thing', my name is Toby." He saw as he drew his revolver and begin to walk down the noisy corridor and began to make his way towards the back of the prison. 'Wonder if I can find anything to build an arm. That would be nice.' He though to himself as he continued to walk and search for Betty's cell.

Just as he was beginning to grow assured that he would not have to move further than a few more steps forward, Old N saw his fellow-distractions charge forward as rapidly as their limbs, abnormally large or not, would allow. Was that what had actually been agreed upon? The crustacean being was fairly confident it was not; then again, he had barely been paying any attention while the battle-plan was being discussed. Chittering to himself in mild annoyance, he hastily finished swallowing his mushroom's cap, and prepared to advance upon the enemy. Ahead of him, the knight and the burly Cambion who fancied himself some sort of monarch had breached the facility and, judging by the cacophony pouring out from the door, were already at work; meanwhile, the masked drunkard was apparently intentioned to transform his body, or at least a part of it, into a pyrotechnic show. Seeing as he was raising, well, Hell (that was his goal, after all) loudly enough to render any contribution Old N could possibly make thoroughly useless, the latter saw no choice but to invade the prison as well if he was to be in a position to claim any credit for an eventual success once this was over.

Reluctantly lifting himself from his naturally half-crouching posture, Old N raised his pincers, one of which was still holding the unfinished mushroom stalk in the purely cosmetic guise of a mace, and, spreading them in a manner resembling the arms of a misshapen letter Y, charged onward - which, in his case, amounted to a moderate trot. As he moved, he began to snap his mandibles together, producing a seemingly low, yet continuous and greatly irritating sound which somehow grew audible amidst the general chaos. In spite of his best efforts, most of which were, it bears mentioning, simulated, it was unlikely the crab-like demon would have been able to reach the prison hallway before his companions encountered any resistance; however, once they did, he could probably appear as though he were rescuing them at a critical moment, and might perhaps later be able to claim that it was owing to his timely intervention that the operation succeeded.

The pissed off Cambion had succeeded in getting the attention of the security capped man in the window. As Jonathan joined in the effort, the security man raised a walkie-talkie like device to his mouth with a bandaged hand. It seemed the two had succeeded in getting the man to summon a few guards, but they'd need something more explosive to really get everyone's blood pumping. And that's exactly what Grog did. At just the cost of his entirety of the flesh on his pelvis and the ability to stand he certainly got the head guard's attention. The absolute bemused look on his face was quickly replaced by surprised as Nefas screamed something along the lines of "What was that?", though with a lot more cursing. While this was happening, Barkeep answered Toby's questions.

"You'll have about as long as the distractors last in combat. Luckily, the place isn't too technically advanced, just regular cameras. Doubt the head guard is looking at them right now though."

As Viliam made a new entrance to the asylum and they all entered, they would be greeted with a row of cell blocks to their left, as well as a guard near the end, luckily turned in the other direction and oblivious. Unfortunately, the prisoners were not oblivious, and one began making some noise, a small and annoying looking demon began jumping up and down and banging on the bars of the cell with his face. "Ehhehehe! Are you three new guards???? C'mon, let me out, let me out, it's play time!" He shouted, getting the attention of the guard near the end. Although Kritch was gone, already crawling around in the vents (though without looking at the closest cell block he'd have only a vague idea of which vent he was in and where he was going). This left Toby and Vile to get rid of the guard and the noisy prisoner as quickly and silently as possible.

While this was happening, two guards busted out into the front room, which was now being smoked up thanks to Grog's fireworks. The pair who had just walked in wielding a fire blanket, but at the sight of Deprave and John, threw down the tool and unsheathed their weapons; A billy club and a machete. The other guard, the one who had been there in stunned silence for a tiny while, quickly kicked one of the tables in the room over and pulled out a pistol, hopping behind cover and firing it at Deprave.

Jonathan quickly raised his shield in a defense, and very slowly started strafing to around to the flipped table, and the guard with it as well. It was very hard to do near anything in this smoke because it was so thick, but once Jonathan felt the corner of a solid plank of wood, he knew where he was, and he quickly slammed his mace behind the table, hitting it on the guards shoulder. Immediately after, Jonathan ducked behind the table and swung at the man's head, which knocked him unconscious when the mace hit the skull.

Now that Jonathan was on the ground behind the table, he took a second to analyze the situation, and thats when he noticed a piece of paper on the ground next to the guard. Obviously, paper was meant to be read, so Jonathan picked up the paper and, to his dismay, found it was a child's drawing, and not even a good one. To describe it, one would say "man riding bear", and even then you could be misconstrued. Jonathan did like the idea of riding a bear though, so he'd probably ask about getting a bear mount later. Right now though, Jonathan held out the palm of his hand, with the hand facing the ceiling, and a golden light began to emanate from the air above it. Once the light began to shine, Jonathan prayed.

"Hail, Light. I come to thee with a question of dire straits. How long doth thy have until the cambion overseer of this asylum arrives?"