Cicero watched the unlikely group interact with one another. They seemed to get along for the most part. Just then, a former slave made his way up the stairwell. He held a piece of parchment in his hand and waved it toward the group, "Hey! we found something on the slaver!" he handed it to Cicero in respect, "Thanks for fighting for our freedom." he stated in a kind of hero worship.
Cicero took it in his hand and smiled. Then he replied, "You all had the desire for freedom. We just gave you an opportunity. As for this map, I think we have a layout of this cave."
"I appreciate it." Cicero's eyes began adjusting to the dark cave. He squinted and then he spotted it. A red blood trail leading up the stairwell some 40 meters away. "The captain went this way. Let's hope he didn't bleed out." Cicero remarked nervously pointing to the trail.
As the two followed up toward the stairs they heard the sound of a large door unlatching and swinging open. Soon after it closed with a thud. "Did he get out? Cicero thought to himself. He kept his blade at the ready. Then they heard voices above.
The ramblings of Dalious were easy to distinguish. That's when he heard them. Gwyneria and Ashe were conversing with the half dead pirate. Cicero glanced at Fyr and pointed up, "Friends." He whispered.
When Gwyn mentioned his name Cicero called up, "Down here!" He waved enthusiastically and began ascending the stairway. The light shown through the cracks in the door just beyond the group. He stopped abruptly when he spotted a dark-clad figure that resembled a guard. But when he saw her conversing he breathed a sigh of relief and continued. It was just Ashe.
"Gwyn, am I glad to see you!" Cicero gave an enthusiastic yet awkward hug as the elf was busy tending to Dalious at that moment near the ground.
Then he continued, "Manzur and I got separated. Managed to free the slaves, yes that's right. These demonfolk are getting free labor and intended the same for us. At least that is what I surmise. Ashe, I barely recognized you in that. Very nearly took me for one of them. Dalious, you don't look so good..."
Then he turned to Fyr almost forgetting the tattooed warrior, "I must've forgotten my knightly manners, Gwyn, Ashe, this is Fyr. A slave turned freeman. Fyr, these are my companions.
Almost as an after thought he rubbed his sore ribcage. "My ribs hurt, when you get a chance. That is if you still have energy."
Cicero followed Fyr over the planks. They held his weight surprisingly. Afterward, the other slaves began taking everything of value from the former slavers. Including the leader.
Fyr and Cicero could here his pleas behind them as they made their way toward the stairs that Dalious walked. They could tell by the droplets of blood that dotted the sand.
The gang leader would not last long Cicero surmised. As they continued, Cicero remarked to Fyr, "The name is Cicero Bladewalker. I've since given up trying to hide my identity. What is your name?"
Cicero followed the large tattooed man who had come to his aid. Despite his apparent malnurishment, he was a hulking figure. His bone structure was built like an ox. He began interrogating the gang leader with force. Cicero stood alongside the man over a large spike trap. Dalious was no where to be seen. He must have leapt the thing? As he looked he spotted blood on the opposite side, but Dalious wasn't there. "He must have barely made the ledge." Cicero thought to himself.
In response to Fyr's questioning the former gang leader replied through groans of pain, "I don't have your stuff..the demonfolk have it all! I'm just tasked at keeping you all in line..Please..don't kill me. I'm trapped here like the rest of you."
Cicero scoffed, "So that gives you the right to abuse these men? It would almost be a mercy to put you out of your miserable existence. Though, I'll leave it to you." He nodded to Fyr. "Say, how should we get across?"
As Fyr was about to walk back from his current position towards the spot of mushrooms he had been working on previously, he could suddenly hear something very fancy to say the least. What was that ? Someone drunk singing about someone being drunk or just some madman ? Only a few moments later he realized how daring and elaborate of a diversion maneuver this probably was meant to be -- and that this was his chance to start hitting back.
"Slaughter that elephant before he stampedes!" was the order blasting through the chamber and, as Fyr's eyes had finished their survey of the situation and locked onto the first guard, the latter had already found a companion to change course with in order to attack him.
What was he supposed to do now ? Try to fight two men with better equipment with a primitive mushroom chopping tool tied to his wrist ? Not the worst idea given the overall situation probably, but Fyr thought about something else. His already rather enormous chest started to swell to proportions that made the dilapidated piece of cloth wrapped around it burst in a few places, then he released the inhaled air in the form of a shout.
The two guards raised their weapons just in order to hold their ears and almost stopped dead on their path. Even as the scream itself was over, they still did not dare to pick up momentum so fast again. At the same time the foreign words had alerted some of Fyr's 'coworkers' as well. They were anything but vigorous, but Fyr made a rather unmistakable, pointing gesture towards them anyway so the two men would help attack the guards he had to deal with. They weren't any better equipped than he was, but not worse either. In response to his show of courage, one of the men came to Fyr’s aid stating, ”Freedom, or death.”
Cicero bided his time. That gang leader had his own long sword in his grasp. The same one that was used to frame him for the death of the King of Alvion. It was a formidable weapon. Though he could tell, the user was not accustomed to wielding it. His form was awkward and sloppy. Perhaps Cicero could bait out an attack and disarm him with one clean strike from his dagger.
He knew one thing, being struck with his finely forged long sword would be bad news for any unarmored foe. Including himself.
Cicero changed his stance and raised his weapon hand to bait a strike toward his own midsection. If the opponent went for it, Cicero would attempt to lunge for the opponent's hands with his own dagger.
1d20+3=19, Success, Disarm
vs
1d20+3=10, Interrupted/Fail
The trick worked. The Slaver leader swung horizontally at the opening. Cicero lunged forward in perfect step opposite of the man's swinging side. With one hand he shoved the opponent's blade downward. Then he plunged his dagger straight into the slaver's hand.
The man grunted in pain. He immediately dropped the weapon and clutched his left hand. Blood streamed from the wound. Then the gang leader backed away and drew out a dagger of his own. He called out, "Help me!!" The duo focused on Fyr came to his aid, flanking him. There was no telling if the men down the hall heard the call or not. However, if they didn't reduce the number of opponents, their little group would be overwhelmed in short order.
Cicero picked up his long sword. It felt perfectly balanced in his hands, "Welcome home." He said quietly. Suddenly he lunged to the enemy left of the gang leader.
1d20+3=10 vs 1d20+1=6, Success
The slaver raised his weapon to defend himself, but it was too late. Cicero's blade cleaved through him diagonally from left to right. The man keeled over in a splatter of blood.
Fyr had some reason to feel happy that the two scoundrels changed course again, but it was beyond obvious that he needed to help Cicero now -- long sword and an injured gang leader or not. He could certainly have done with a bit less of a bloody mess unfolding in front of his eyes though as the knight's weapon ended one of the men's lives..
Attack roll 1d20+1 = 17 against defense roll 1d20+1 = 4: Success
Fyr lunged at one of the other individuals and rammed his left fist into the rib cage from halfway behind. As the air was forced out of the man's lungs, so did a loud cracking noise announce the breakup of one of his bones there and he stumbled onto the ground in agony. Fyr followed behind with a downwards kick to smash more things as the opportunity was there until he was sure that the man would at least not move for a while. In fact, the slaver died fairly quickly to an array of internal injuries.
Cicero attempted a strike at the gang leader, only hit air. In response, the gang leader closed the distance on Cicero with his dagger. Cicero pivoted away causing the blade to merely graze his armor. ”Little help?!” Cicero chuckled nervously.
Fyr was quick to respond. He swung at the gang leader, but ended up striking the man's armor, bruising his fist more than hurting him. His fellow slave used Fyr’s opening to spartan kick the leader over.The man was stunned.
That's when the other four slavers arrived from chasing Dalious. Fyr lobbed a large stone at two of them, missing. His ally threw a rock and missed as well.
Cicero was ready for them as they flanked their leader. Cicero feinted a stab toward the leader. As one of the men went to block the blow, Cicero turned his stab into an overhead slash. The blade connected, cutting the man deep from his left shoulder down into his right leg. The slaver collapsed with a sharp cry of pain. However, the other man swung his shovel in response. The end struck Cicero in the side of his armor. He grunted from the blow. Nothing fatal, but definitely painful. The gang leader began to hobble away from the troop slowly down the hallway.
The other two slavers struck at Fyr and his companion. The one directed at Fyr narrowly missed in the melee. Unfortunately, Fyr's ally was not so blessed. The other slaver smashed his head in with a shovel, killing him instantly.
Cicero struck back at the opponent who had hit him. His blade cleaved through him from left to right. The man fell in two halves, dead.
Meanwhile, Fyr wrestled a shovel away from one of the men with brute force, easily overpowering him.
In the chaos, the gang leader made a break for the hallway Dalious had run earlier.
In sight of their former oppressor fleeing, the other slaves ambushed the two last guards. Swarming them. Pulling them to the ground. Spitting, kicking, punching them down. Screaming, yelling. The days, months and years of abuse were finally reaping something each slave had inside. Revenge. They were merciless. The slaver's cries were completely ignored and with good reason. Cicero looked on grimly. He would not intervene.
Fyr decided not to intervene in an attempt to stop the carnage for he felt it would have been pointless. He had been able to feel that kind of anger himself, maybe the only reason he was not joining them was that he had not been here yet for so long. He did not force himself to look at the mess in its full, bloody length either however, but rather focused on his hearing: footsteps becoming less and less loud and suddenly no longer accompanied by the sound of crushed gravel reflected from solid stone walls. The gang leader… he was still on the run and apparently had left the large cavity they were all standing in at this very moment!
They could not allow that scoundrel to escape… Yet as Fyr was about to accelerate his bulk towards the sound’s origin, loud screams told a story about there no longer being any need for a rush. The voice unmistakably was that of the gang leader and equally unmistakable was the great amount of pain in it. Fyr would know of the spike trap they had placed earlier. The one who abused them was the victim of his own folly.
Cicero listened to Dalious intently. As he did, the one Dal called "Fyr" went to pick up a shroom and blinked several times. It was obvious he was signaling them he was aware of their presence. Dalious eventually figured it out and before too long the crazy pirate blabbed his whole plan and made a break for a hidden spike trap.
"There he goes.." Cicero muttered plainly. "Dear Lord make this work." Then Cicero unsheathed his dagger and waited for all eyes to be on Dalious.
It didn't take long, his inspiring sea shanty had the entire workforce and guards' eyes trained on him. Some of the men even joined in at the chorus.
The slaver leader yelled furiously, "Don't just stand there! TAKE HIM!!" Snapping out of it 4 guards ran after Dalious with various makeshift weapons in hand. The leader remained with three others to keep an eye on the rest.
Cicero wasn't about to wait around. He attempted to silently run toward the nearest enemy and shank him before anyone knew what was happening.
1d20+2=12, Success
The man fell with a thud, Cicero's dagger retracted from the man's back.
The other's quickly scrambled into position. The gang leader called, out, "Where are all these rats coming from!? KILL HIM!!" His voice was hoarse from yelling so often. But Cicero could hear a twinge of fear under his bravado, "I'll give you the same chance that I gave your fellow back there. Drop your weapons and I'll let you live."
The man was taken aback by the statement, "You would command ME?!! FINISH HIM!" The other two hesitantly headed toward Cicero, their pick axes at the ready. Cicero glanced at Fyr to see if the others would come to his aid, "If the slaves don't take freedom for themselves, who could? Cicero thought to himself.
1d20+2=9, Fail
Meanwhile, Dalious found himself leaping over the spike trap, but with his rib broken from earlier, the pain was too great. He ended up missing a clean landing on the safe side. instead he had to grab the ledge on the opposite side. His right foot ended up getting stabbed with a spike point. The pain was excruciating. The four who followed him stopped abruptly before falling in. They saw Dalious dangling from the other side and laughed hysterically. "The fool falls in his own trap! Lucky we didn't go in after him eh fellas?"
What would the pirate do in his precarious situation?
Cicero and Dalious crept down the tunnels as fast as they could remain quiet. After some minutes they heard the sounds of voices up ahead. "It doesn't seem they know we are here yet." They found the edge of the entrance into the mushroom opening. There were the fellow slaves working on the mushrooms. Picking and taking care to remain vigilant. They seemed nervous. Everyone did in fact. Including the guards. Something seemed amiss.
Dalious was able to make eye contact with his fellow slave Fyr. Cicero eyed Dalious curiously and motioned to him as he leaned in to whisper, "Something's up. We could do a direct attack and hope your allies aid us. We could do something clever, but how much time do we really have? The choice was his.
As for Fyr. He saw the two men at a glance from his work. How would he proceed?
@Fetzen Fyr Harnann marched with his 5 fellow companions wherever the 4 remaining gangsters took them. They were all armed with pickax's or clubs. Dalious was left alone with old-man Finny to see to the mining operation. An impossible task. The leader most likely wanted to make an example of them.
As for the rest of them, they continued marching down the dark tunnels they helped create. After about 5 minutes of travel, they arrived at the glow-shroom farm. The area was illuminated brightly with the light orange hue of the glow-shrooms. Perhaps the only truly beautiful thing down here in these dark, dusty caverns. He hated being here. He hated how they had tricked him. He hated his naivete for believing them.
But even in these dull circumstances, the group had managed to find some comfort in sticking together. Their various backgrounds and origins made for very colorful tales. Especially "Captain" Dalious. Was he a real Captain? No one knew, but here sure was proficient at spinning a good yarn.
As they arrived, one of the gangsters motioned with his club to the shrooms and said gruffly, "Work." Over the weeks Fyn had been here, he had lost quite a bit of weight. His giant size needing a lot of calories to maintain his mass. How he longed for the hunts from before where he could eat his fill. The shrooms barely gave them enough energy to work, let alone maintain a healthy physique.
Just then, the slave known as Merrick spoke up, "I gotta use the latrine, suh." One of the guards grunted angrily and took him about 20 paces away.
The other men began working, collecting whatever shrooms appeared ripe. Carefully scrutinized to make sure they did not hide them on their person.
Dalious didn't know if Finny was faking or not, but he took the act as a sign that it was time to attack regardless. Instead of focusing on Finny however, the gang suddenly turned their attention toward Cicero.
Dalious swung his pickaxe toward the foreman's neck, the pick plunged through, just missing the clavicle. Dalious had to use his leg to yank the tool from the man's neck. Red forcefully spurted out. Then the man gurgled, clutched his neck and fell to the ground in a pool of his own blood. "I am Captain Dalious Durendail! Fiercest pirate of the deep blue sea. Prepare to die." As Dalious boasted in triumph over his foe, the bruiser took a swing at him with his own pickax. Dalious ducked underneath the blow.
Meanwhile, Cicero charged into two swings of his quiet opponents. One went wide, but the other met its mark. The impact bashed his gambeson and he winced in pain, but made no sound. He glared at him then plunged his dagger between the striker's ribs, and directly into his heart. Afterward, he turned to the other man and calmly stated, "Drop it."
Dalious nearly fell prone when he narrowly missed the bruiser's swinging attack. He pushed himself back up from the sand and raised his pickaxe to go on the offensive. His weapon cracked and broke apart as he held it, the end falling off the handle. All he could do was let out a disappointed sigh as the bruiser swung again toward him.
Dalious reacted almost to late, but just enough to avoid a fatal blow. The enraged bruiser's heavy swing just grazed across his ribs, cracking one of them as Dalious fell backward to the sand. The pain shot up his side like fire on flesh, causing a wince of discomfort from the pirate. He turned to look at the bruiser, knowing he had just been bested by a graze.
As be the large man came to finish him off all he could think of was, 'I'm about to die and we haven't even had breakfast'. Sure breakfast was just glowing mushroom fungus, but it was breakfast still.
Swift as an arrow, Cicero lunged into the bruiser's back full force with his dagger. After the strike to the man's right lung, Cicero rapidly stabbed the man's back while clutching his neck from behind. He repeatedly brought the weapon above and plunged downward over and over again. Blood drenched their garments. All the man could do was exhale sharply at each blow. Gradually, the exhales became less and less pronounced. Finally, the large muscled man collapsed to the floor motionless.
Cicero turned to the other man covered in blood and spoke calmly, yet authoritatively, "On the ground, now." The man complied almost immediately as Cicero took the piece of rope that had strung Dalious' pickax and began to tie the man's arms behind his back. "Is the wound bad?" Cicero inquired.
Dalious backed a few steps as he watched Cicero kill the man, ending up covered in his blood. "Great job, though I had it covered," he said. "I absolutely did not think I was going to die just now, heh...that would be foolish, heh. What? The wound? A mere scratch. Or...a cracked rib. Oh yeah most assuredly a cracked rib. Still better than those three got."
He chuckled but immediately winced in pain again. He then walked over to Finny's body and knelt down to see if he was faking or not. The old man was dead. He said no words and just rested a hand on him for a moment. Letting out a sigh, followed by a wince, he stood again and turned toward Cicero. "Bloody hell, we're keeping that one alive?"
"Prisoners are a valuable source of intel. No military worth their salt denies the right of unconditional surrender. But as for your friend.." Cicero glanced over at Finny. "I'm..sorry." Then he turned to their prisoner, "We should hide the bodies. Do you know where the gangsters are and how many are left?"
"Yes." Dalious walked over and punched their new prisoner in the stomach, for no real reason. "There's this area, and this....hmmm...this here...". He began using his fingers to draw a map of the place into the sand. He spoke of all the likely places the guards might be. "What do you think? Should we split up or take them down together? We have the element of surprise."
"Maybe you could enlist the aid of some of your fellows. Surely the enemies numbers have been thinned out. I counted about 8 that came earlier. There are at least four remaining. With at few allies we could take them by surprise. That reminds me. Manzur's spear you hid in the sand back there. We could use it. I'll hide these ones if you go fetch it." Cicero began to drag the corpses of the three men into the mine and covered them with sandstone. The process took about 10 minutes.
Afterward, he picked up one of the fallen shovels. Then he turned to the tied gangster. "Now for you.." The man began to sweat profusely. "When the captain returns you're going to lead the way." Cicero said with a sly smile.
"The guards are too close to them all early in the day," Dalious told him. "Rounding them up would work best closer to rest time. However, if they spot us rising up against the guards I've no doubts that they would quickly join us in the fight. They just need a little motivation is all. I'll fetch the spear!"
As Cicero tended to the corpses, Dalious quickly ran back and recovered the spear. No one was around as the others were all still working, but just a matter of time until they came looking for them. Grabbing some mushrooms he hid under his bedding, Dalious stuffed his face with them before digging up the spear. While the spear was right where he'd buried it, he noticed that Cicero's companion was not. Returning to Cicero with spear in hand, the pirate told him what he had discovered. "Your friend is gone. Perhaps we should move quickly."
"Not there? Did he leave on his own or did someone abduct him?" Cicero reasoned. Then the thought occurred to Cicero he should inform the former pirate of his allies above, "Unfortunate. I'm sure he got up, finding some place to lay low...By the way, Gwyn is above, you know. The elf? She is with a rogue-like woman with the gift of luck depending on the day. You'd probably take a liking to her in all honesty, but with your poor taste in women that may not be a good thing." Cicero chuckled playfully.
What would the duo do? Would they strike while the iron is hot before they are found out? Or would they wait until the work day was finished to make their move?
"The gift of luck? Not sure what that means exactly but I've had my fair share of luck to know it is no gift. Regardless, we're gonna need all of this luck to help pull off what we're scheming. Let's go kill these f***ers!"
Cicero followed behind them from a distance. He heard them talking and then the one named Finny collapsed. Dalius sounded distraught. Was it a clever rouse? Cicero continued to sidle forward, slowly and cautiously. Taking his time finding rocks to hide behind.
1d20+4, +2 dex, +1 dim, +1 distraction, Failure
The weaselly man scoffed, "Looks like you'll have to perform the work for yourself, 'captain.' The old fool has finally gone and been worked to death! I can take all the credit for that." The large bruising man snorted in laughter. The other two remained dead silent.
They suddenly turned in unison to spot Bladewalker himself. "There goes the element of surprise. Frontal assault it is..Please do something, Dalious." Cicero thought. Then he began to sprint headlong toward the two silent ones, unsheathing his dagger. They grunted in surprise. The bruiser and the conniving foreman turned in alarm. The foreman cried out, "Uh, Hey! Who goes there!?"
Cicero ignored his question and charged straight at one of the two quiet ones. By this time they had shaken off their fear and wielded their shovels like bats, ready to strike. This could be a tough fight. How would Dalius proceed?
Armor/Clothing: Simple leather gambeson (chest, arms, legs) - +1 Armor. Over top a loose fitted brown desert cloak. Reddish brown desert wrap for his head and face when outside in the sand.
Weapons/Equipment: Steel bastard sword(stolen) Concealable dagger. Magic negating artifact shield- Immune to any magical attacks when solidly blocking a Bladewalker or used by a Bladewalker. AOE attacks still affect the users.(Strapped to Back)
Miscellaneous: Medium satchel, 1 day of rations, water skin (2/3 full), goatskin notebook, 50 silver, small first aid case.
Proficiencies: Subtle magic detection- (+1 Perception to detect subtle uses of magic within 30 feet)
Hindrances: Injuries - Left shoulder (+1 damage called shot) , Back of right knee (+1 damage called shot).
Member
Sol Grim
Samara
Fetzen
Timemaster