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Hello everyone, just wanted to let you know that I have decided to leave this RP. My reason is that IRL things have hindered my writing skills. I apologies for the inconvenience of leaving, i hope that i will be able to come back in a more relaxed mental state.


Alright mate, Zell will have to do without his big bro. Get your head sorted out, that's more important than anything on here. All the best mate. We'll be here if/when you feel up to a return o7
@Zapdos@Zoolnickcagecrazy.gif


While the gang were discussing important matters...

"Did I stutter?" The Englishman responded to the adventurer next to him. "Aurok the fucking Maneater."

"By the Quinity, you're pulling my leg."

The bartender, like the man next to Zell, was skeptical, but when Zell told them to go upstairs, right now, and ask Lucinda Bottrill what the Source Code said, they started to believe the claim. A few more ears caught the loud conversation at the bar. Mutterings began to spread the word around the room. Some repeated the claim. Some just said that a loudmouth was spouting nonsense at the bar. Either way, once the claim was proven, they would all remember this moment. Yup, Zell thought. When a Bronze Tier Party, fresh as a daisy, rolled into town with Platinum Trophy on their name.

Fuck it - it was a great story. Step one: Start spreading it now - Step two: people buy you beers in the future to tell the tale.

This was not Zell's first rodeo.

"What's this about Aurok?" asked an approaching gnome to the bartender, climbing up a stool to sit at the bar.

"This one and his lot have just walked in and registered... only after killing Aurok the Maneater."

"Horse shit, they have," was the response. "Aurok? Give it up. That monster's not going anywhere until a top-tier party come in and decide to sort him out."

Zell's face was about as smug as it could get. He took a swig of his beer. The bartender side-eyed the Englishman, then responded to the gnome. "I dunno, Jareth. I think he's telling the truth. Lucy!" he shouted up to the mezzanine. "That Aurok bounty?"

When she leaned into view and confirmed the kill, everyone gave Zell a second look. He gave them a bounce of his eyebrows as he took another satisfactory sip.

"By the forked beard of Hades."

"We are Second Chance," Zell told them, loudly enough for more than just them three to hear. "You're gonna be hearing that name a fair bit in the not-so distant future. So you remember it. Write it down. Tell your friends."


Feylings can see in the dark pretty well, Titus thought as his mind tried to justify bringing Erith into the fold. The truth was, pushing him away now was likely to cause more problems for them, especially seeing as he was in the same cell with some of them. When Rizx continued to talk about the plan in front of little mischief-maker, it was decided. In for a penny...

Rizx was talking sense and Titus didn't disagree with anything she'd said, (especially regarding taking supplies,) but Mort's idea to leave an undead prison riot in their wake was preferable to dealing with and cuffing every guard themselves. Mihn's response to the idea of creating corpses made the hairs on the back of Titus' neck stand up. It was not that he was adverse to murder, but the lilt of her voice - the juxtaposition of cute and deadly - was rather unnerving, to say the least. Funny that he mirrored her facial expression to Mort when addressed, the barest trace of a smile for the necromancer who's compliment to The Snake flared his pride.

Titus looked at the big guy who was at the end of the table, his massive size having him eye level with them all even though he was sat on the floor. It was a good job for many that Maxim was a nice guy. Had the friendly giant shared the mindset of someone like Kruger or other vagabonds in this place, no one would be able to stop him.

Maxim, Erith, Kristo, Mihn and Rizx all shared a cell.

"The patrols will be light, tonight. We need to disable the few guards about. Maxim and Mihn being in the same cell should make this simpler," he explained. "In fact, Kristo and Erith will help a lot too." He interlocked his fingers and placed his elbows on the table. "If you two," looking at the loudmouths, "can draw the closest guards attention. Somehow get him to open the cell door. Then you two," looking at the powerful Min-Max duo, "disable him - kill him - whatever works, so long as it's quiet. That gives us the cell key and a guard's uniform."

And he went on to offer the idea of himself being escorted by 'prison guard Kristo' up to the Guard House, where he could get the master map. Before that, everyone else would be freed and, once the area was clear, Titus would let off the sleep gas bomb he'd made from the Nightshade moss - that would fill the prison barracks and make sure that no other prisoners could interfere and mess up their plans.

"We must wait some hours into the evening before we start. The guards must have time to get drunk." He took a breath and paused, letting all the information sink in as he shared his gaze among his comrades, left to right. "Once I have the master map, we descend on the key location together, relying on the our wits and our skills. Mihn and Rizx in the shadows, Max our muscle, and so on. Once the magic cuffs are off, I believe things will go a lot more smoothly." His eyes couldn't help but go to Mort as he said this. She might be more powerful than all of them. "This night belongs to us, comrades. I am certain of it."

...

As the evening began to settle in, Titus pictured, in his mind's eye, the guards getting hammered. He visualised himself and Kristo succeeding in obtaining the map. He saw their merry band of misfits escaping beyond the prison limits.

Victory.

Blinking back to reality, he spoke aloud to Mort who he shared a cell with. "I've been thinking about this concept of Utilitarianism you were telling me about last month," he told her. It had taken him this long to bring it up again as he wanted to be sure he thought exactly what he thought before speaking. Precision was important in philosiphy, as the necromancer had shown him countless times by making him sound like an idiot with seemingly simple responses and questions to his statements. "I'm still not sure how I feel about it, but I've realised that in almost every storybook I ever read, growing up - the Utilitarian was the villain. That is strange to me; we are taught as children to steer clear from such a moral compass, without even realising it."

Just some words to pass the time. He was also acutely aware that while she'd taught him about the concept with rather long-winded soliloquys, she'd never actually stated whether or not she subscribed to the idea herself.

Another hour into the darkness and Titus walked to the cell door, made eye contact with Mihn and nodded. It was time to go.
<Snipped quote by Saiyan>

Are you saying my sweet Erith would cause ruckus?!

Cause if so . . . You'd be absolutely correct he would love this idea.


That little guy is cool af lol I can't wait to see him with the cuffs off. Mischief 100
If there's no plan yet, then here's an idea. If anyone wants to edit it or reject it, cool...

Let's say that Kristo, Mihn, Max, Rizx and Mort share a 5-man cell. 1 guard on duty tonight.

Mihn and Max pretend to have a fight in the evening, to draw the guard on duty to their cell, then they beat the crap out of him, tie him up and take his cell key.

Dress Kristo in the guard's uniform. Unlocks cell with the rest of the party. He uses charisma 100 to escort Titus past the guard at the entrance of the Guard House. Mihn and Rizx in the shadows in case they fail the persuasion check and need to quietly kill/KO the 2nd guard.

Once the party have the map, they regroup outside the Guard House and we go from there.

Anyone up for that?

Or maybe Erith instead of Mort in the 1st cell where the fight takes place, as he's more believable as the cause of a fight lol
Drifters leaving their children in settlements was not an uncommon tale. Life on the road was hard, even for an adult, and there was always some sterile couple in a village or town who wouldn't mind raising adopting a child to call their own. How life had turned out for Zara, she might have been better off being raised as a drifter, but who could know? Maybe she wouldn't be alive today if her mother hadn't given her up to the farmers. The wasteland was a harsh place, no two ways about it.

Oh for fuck's sake, she's talking about having kids, change the topic Isaac! was the blaring emergency alarm ringing out in his mind.

"Well, maybe 'missing out' means you at least know what not to do, right?" he offered as some consolation. Damn it, asshole, for the love of God, change the topic! "But hey, you're a free woman now. There's gotta be a bunch of stuff you wanna do first, before you tie yourself down." New York didn't exactly offer a wide variety of extra-curricular activites but still... "You got any ambitions or goals? Taste some good food, learn something, see a sight, anything like that?"

When the food was done, he killed the fire, grabbed his eating-dish and spork from his backpack for her. "Dinner is served," he said with a grin as he handed it over. He ate his own right off the skewer, using his combat knife as an eating utensil. Pretty drab as dinners go, but it was quite cozy for him, who was used to eating alone and entertaining himself with his own thoughts.

"How is it?" he asked after a few bites. He silently made a bet with himself on wether or not she'd lie politely and compliment his cooking skills.


Just before it was James' turn to talk, Zell's mind had turned randomly to a burning question of his own. The mystery of Fenna's accent. The way the Ranger had pronounced his name was kinda unique, yet familiar all the same. His mind unearthed a memory of last year's weekend trip with the boys to Amsterdam.

Bingo.

Finally, he realised that she was Dutch. He might've gotten it sooner but of all the group, he'd probably heard her talk the least. Well, now he had to thank her for her country's service in inventing his favourite beers! But before he could do that, James started telling the gang's tale of the last 36 hours, hoping Lucy would have some answers. And it seemed as though she didn't, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel. This mystery message in their magical email inbox that could not have possibly gotten there unless someone knew they were coming.

"I have a funny feeling whatever's on that message in the Source Comm has some kind of answer for you," Lucy said.

"You and me both," Zell chimed in, in agreement, getting goosebumps just anticipating what he was about to hear next. He was about to eagerly tell her to click on it, or whatever, 'magic' it open, but she continued on.

"I'd like to know myself, to be honest. But to open the message, you'll need to rank up to Silver Tier, as a party. The fastest way to do that would be to complete contracts with the guild."

"Goddammit, more hoops," the swordsman muttered, rolling his eyes. When she gave them the options to rank up, Zell looked at the others, waiting to see if anyone spoke first. Inside he was frustrated. He felt so close to answers right now, stood but a few feet away from a screen that had a message for them that would likely blow this mystery wide open. When Adam started talking about the cube, Zell lost interest. The Academy was already their next stop. While the Druid waited for his answer, Zell addressed the others. "I'd bet my last monkey- err... 100 silver - that our answers are in that message. Let's just cut through the bullshit and get this gold contract outta the way. We're a lot stronger than we were before that last fight."

Once Lucy had finished with Adam, Zell turned to her. "Gold is lower than Platinum right? If we take a gold contract, you won't be sending us anywhere like The Mazy Hillocks?" When she confirmed, he turned back to the group. "Good. I say take the gold, but I'll leave you guys to make a more thought-out decision. I need a beer." And with that, he made for the bar, not before cracking a joke at Fenna. "Shame they won't have Heineken or Amstel in this neck of the woods, huh."

Back at the hospital, after they'd paid the bill, everyone had split the remaining the money so Zell actually had his share on him. When he got to the bar, he took a stool. "Will a hundred silver get me a beer?" he asked the bartender, who obliged. If anyone joined him, he'd pay for their drink too. The bartender gave the swordsman a medieval tankard full of ale with a nice head on it. Zell took big gulp and smacked his lips satisfactorily. It was suprisingly good. "Now, that is not bad at all."
Put me down for 1 Gold Contract @xenon

Not tryna spend the next 50 posts fighting wolves or something lol Lemme take advantage of this plot armour and run a dungeon or dragon


Before writing the letter for Kruger...

Stood in the Guard House, not for the first time, Titus handed over the satchel of tobacco. It sure was a fortunate coincidence to find Solanaceae moss growing in abundance around all over the grounds. Solanaceae moss AKA 'Nightshade moss;' a perfect subsitute for tobacco if one could extract and seperate the poison from the pulp and then make it smokable. Not an easy task, but such a problem-solving exercise was a nice way to stave off the boredom and monotony of prison life. Making tobacco-substitute would most certainly have made him a rich and influential man in the prison... that is, if the so-called Redemption District was as advertised. In reality, the place was nothing more than a slave camp. The prisoners had not enough things of value to make a tobacco trade worthwhile. And so he found himself simply handing the fruits of his labour over to the guards for a few minor comforts and favours. It was the best he could do, for now.

"There's a lot more there this time," Vito noted.

"I had the materials, tools and the space required to prepare more, this time around," was the explanation from Titus. In truth, he'd never wanted to make so much for Vito. He'd purposefully been making smaller batches to keep himself needed - keep his value high. But this time around, he had the materials and tools to make something else too - Something that required a large quantity of the poison he'd been seperating out of the Nightshade moss. "As for information: On the fourth sub-level, in the south-western corner of the mine, there's a hideaway where some of the miners are taking extra breaks."

"Is that so?" Vito put the satchel aside and was sufficently distracted by the snitching. Good.

"If you don't mind, wait a few days before you bust them. I'd rather not be, in any way, linked to it."

"You giving me orders, you little shit?" Vito leaned in toward Titus threateningly. Titus didn't even blink. For some reason, fear or doubt rarely showed on his face. The young man was seemingly unshakable, with a piercing glassy gaze to boot. It was one of the reasons his old gang called him 'The Snake.' That and the poison antics. If they'd seen him now, casually snitching on others, this would be yet another reason for his nickname. "I could make your life a living hell. Know your place."

"Of course," Titus agreed. "I only wish to be valuable, so that our current relationship might continue."

"Anything else?" Titus shook his head. "What about other prisoners? Like that Mortika woman. She seems up to no good."

"She's fine," Titus said quickly. Mort was one of the few people Titus actually enjoyed talking to, in this shit hole. He'd do his best to protect her at any cost. "I've..." he searched for the right words. "...seen her around. She causes no trouble. Gets on with her work. You won't find anything untoward with her."

"You seem certain of that," Vito said, a suspicious look on his face. These fucking guards and their first instinct to be suspicious. It was correct. But annoying as hell.

"She is strange," Titus relented. "A cult leader, so I hear." Vito nodded in agreement. "I'll keep a closer eye on her, and quickly report anything worthy of note. Such a savage must be hiding something."

Misdirection complete. It was not out of pure altruism that Titus felt loyalty to her. It was not just that he respected and even admired her as an intellect and conversationalist. Mortika d'Arce had a unique set of skills and knowledge that made her a crucial piece in a potential prison break. She had to be protected. For the good of the small group of allies that were forming - allies who might seriously consider an escape attempt. Allies who might just be able to execute one too.

And speaking of prison breaks; did the guards in the Guard House just let slip the mother of all intel...!

After writing the letter for Kruger...

"They all... party?"

Titus looked in the eyes of the tiny goblin girl and gave her a couple of very purposeful nods. This one would also be as crucial a cog as Mort. She was small and she was a little thief, with goblin instincts. Heist gangs would call her a 'grease guy.' She could fit through small gaps, climb and scramble, with finesse in her hands too. Her type of team player was often someone sent into a building to unlock it from the inside. Coaxing her to talk was not easy, she was distrustful and bullied in a similar way that Titus had been when he first arrived, but finally she had spoken to their group. Good.

"Yes," he said to her, then echoed her words. "All party."

-You know…- Titus' attention was drawn to another who was hard to coax, but for completely different reasons. Nobody bullied Mhin. The elvish-looking woman was a certified badass. -a smaller group might be…wiser than a larger one-

"True enough," was the alchemist's response. "But we need the right combination of skills too. Nobody here is dead weight. We are all going to be needed if this is going to work.

Mhin was like the big guy, Maxim: Two people who did not need magic to be extremely effective at incapacitating any potential obstacles. Titus also found the play on words of 'Min and Max' to be amusing, although he'd never dare mention that for fear of offending them (particularly Mhin. Maxim had a decent sense of humour.)

"I appreciate your enthusiasm, Titus, but..." Kristo began to trail off. "The only plan I am hearing is retrieving the key, unlocking ourselves, and abra kadabra ~" Kristo got really quiet but really enthusiastic about this last part, "We are free!" He whispered but raised his voice at the same time while dancing hands.

"I understand your concerns, Kristo." Titus wished the fool would sit down and be normal. "Unfortunately, without the map, we have limited intel to work with. And once we have the map, we have to move quickly before it's absence is noted. This means, we have a small window in which we can put a plan together and execute. Unortunate, I know. But there's no other way. All we can do is be as prepared as possible, with the right collection of skills to problem-solve in real time."

Speaking of dead weight - someone who didn't know any better might think that Kristo was such. The man had no obvious talents other than having the gift of the gab. But, after arriving in the big city as a teenager, Titus had quickly managed to learn the lesson: It's who you know, not what you know. An old adage that rang truer than most would like to think. Nepotism ran in all circles, and a good friend in the right place could take you where talent alone couldn't. The more Kristo told stories about his former life (never to Titus, but Titus was always listening) the more Titus realised that this man seemed to 'know a guy' in just about every city on the fucking continent. Where hadn't Kristo 'Silver Tongue' Vosu been? Once the team had broke free of the prison, they would become fugitives, and help would be hard to come by. That's when, hopefully, Kristo's knowledge and connections would shine.

"I suppose I am in,"

Titus suppressed his urge to let out a breath of relief, and simply nodded.
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