• Mature • 2. Hide and Seek [FYW Event Chapter 2]

[Strange]

Chapter Two
Hide and Seek

Continued from here.

The three unusual allies broke past the guards. Praetorum the ithecal, Anos the mortalborn, and Amaris the fairly ordinary individual who was easily overshadowed by the heights of the former.

Except for the biqaj who was closer to their diminutive figure. Coated in fresh blood, the biqaj held the short sword in one hand and a newly acquired dagger in the other. They grinned. While Anos and Praetorum had been content to tackle and move past without much else, and Amaris had quickly followed, the biqaj had lingered to swiftly take the lives of the guards near the open door.

They hurried past, now, down a long narrow corridor that had no doors. Only torches set against the walls. At the far end, a spiral staircase loomed.

“Come on,” the biqaj shouted at the other three. “They’ll be on us soon enough if you don’t pick up those big slow feet of your’s!”

A pair of guards appeared from the upward portion of the stairs. They drew their weapons upon seeing the group. Going back wasn’t an option. Blood pooled at the threshold but the door had slammed shut to block any more prisoners getting through.

Rather than leave it to the ithecal to figure out tactics in the incredibly narrow hallway, the unnamed biqaj rushed forward alone. Their petite form maneuvered in the narrow space with ease. A swipe of the sword, a stab of the dagger, and the helm rolled off one of the guards. He gurgled blood that bubbled out of his mouth and torn throat.

The other guard lifted a medium battle-hammer and swung at the nimble killer. The biqaj dodged. The hammer fell onto the dying guard instead.

“Oh Ymir, oh Myrkvior, I'm sorry!” swore the wielder of the hammer, lifting it back up but obviously rattled by having accidentally hit his wounded buddy.

The biqaj kicked forward, knocked the guard slightly off balance then used the fleeting opening to slide the sword through the back of the guard’s neck as the helm lifted just enough to do so. The guard fell forward, sword impaled in the neck, instantly dying from the strike.

“Don’t just stand there,” snapped the biqaj. They twirled the dagger with a grin, then grabbed a second dagger from the dead guard’s belt. They left the impaled sword sticking out the neck. “There’s going to be more coming, let’s go!”

The white-haired biqaj headed down the spiral staircase in a sprint.

Past three doors, the biqaj pivoted and stopped at a fourth. They knelt in front of it, set the two daggers to the side, then took out a few thin metal implements from a narrow string that’d been hidden on their thigh like a garter belt of charms. With two of the thin sticks, the biqaj started to pick the lock of the door.

The biqaj said, “Keep an eye out and watch my back! Shouldn't take me long.”

The sound of armor echoed off the staircase walls. Shouts could be heard. As the biqaj attended to the door, a trio of guards appeared on the stairwell: sword, spear, and axe.

They moved into a triangular formation with Sword at the front arrowhead point.

“To your knees, prisoners, hands behind your head,” snapped Sword behind his helm. “Now!”

Guidelines

You may do, say, behave, act however you like.

But remember…

• play to the level of your skills (if you want a chance of success).
• you do not have access to...
  • any domain magic.
  • any marked abilities.
  • any mortalborn abilities.
  • dreamwalkers: you are unable to access Emea.
• some passive visual mutations will show, more active mutations will not.
• some Blessed markings will show, but the abilities remain inaccessible.
• you do not have any of your original clothes or belongings on you.
• you are unable to dream, thus when you are asleep, you are blacked-out unconscious.
• Praetorum: Your wrists are still shackled to the collar.
• There are three guards at the ready to fight.
• You cannot go back the way you came (it is a dead-end).
• You are on a stone spiral staircase with an up and a down available.
• The trio of guards are on the upper part of the stairs.
• The biqaj is trying to pick the lock of an unknown door.

!

Message from: Strange

Hello Anos, Amaris, and Praetorum! You have chosen the androgynous white-haired, lock-picker and now assuredly murderer, biqaj as your companion! This thread will be more free-form, but still play to your stats if you want a chance at success for choices/actions/etc. Remember to refer to this post for the overall event guideline. If the entire party posts sooner than the deadline, then the thread might go quicker! If not, refer to the following deadlines: You have until 06:00 AM GMT on Monday, December 2 to post a reply. !!! The deadline has been extended until 06:00 AM GMT on Thursday, December 12. Each player may post ONCE (min. 250 words) unless given permission otherwise. If you need to pass the round or leave the event, contact me to let me know. If you have any questions, concerns, or issues, please PM me. Next Mod Post will be on December 14.

[Anos]

Anos eyed the blood swords of their 'saviour' dubiously, but didn't comment further. He was in no place to be preaching his dislike of blades weapons, or the needless taking of life from those who, while not exactly innocent, were still hardly the ringmaster of this nightmare.

Besides, he reasoned, turning back down the hallway ahead, he was the one who wasn't going to use blades. That hardly meant everyone in his presence had to follow his oaths.

The long hallway seemed to stretch into the distance, their running footfalls heavy and Anos'breathing and heartbeat throbbing in his ears even louder. He decided to blame it on the trials spent cramped and shackled, unable to move- surely he hadn't been this slow before, had he?

Even as he thought it, the biqaj shouted and goaded them on. The guards appeared, and before Anos could even begin to figure out a trick to beating two armed guards with one sword among the lot of them, the biqaj had already dispatched them both. He raised an eye at the small but deadly ally, suddenly worried that they'd decide to turn against the three of them.

He followed their lead, now more certain than ever that his best bet was to follow them, no matter where they led.

He felt a pang of worry as the biqaj knelt and began to pick the lock, amplified by the impending tramp of armoured boots.

"I can hold my own in a fight, though I dont know if I'd bet on me in a fight of fists versus swords." Anos said, turning to Praetorium and- he halted in surprise, the face very familiar though the name escaped him. He stared, trills ticking by, then it came back in a rush
Amaris, from Scalvoris with Faith and Padraig. Of course.

"Amaris? By the Seven, how'dyou get here?"" The arrival of the guards halted his question, and he turned to face the staircase above them.

It was a terrible fight- uphill, against a better fed, better equipped foe, in a spiral staircase that would give them the full range of their weapons, while the only weapon he had was his fists.

He glanced at Praetorium, wondering whether the Ithecal would have a plan.

If he did, he was keeping it to himself.

Anos tried to swallow, his mouth suddenly stale and dry.
"Follow my lead," he whispered, and dropped to his knees before guards.

[Praetorum]

Date: ??? of Vhalar, Arc 719

Status: Doing a real good yoink

Weapons: Bread

Armor: None

No Current Magical Effects

Praetorum followed after their diminutive rescuer as the guards in their path each fell to their deft bladework, trying to adjust to running with his arms so restricted. Down and down the spiraling stairs they went, faster than the blood slowly trickling down the stone steps, until the biqaj stopped before a door, and set down their weapons, beginning to pick open the lock on it. 


A meeting spot, perhaps? Or a hideaway for whatever this group had squirreled away for their escape? 



It didn't matter right now, not with the clatter of sabatons on the stone steps above, growing louder and louder


Three guards appeared into view, shouting an order to the escapees, and Praetorum frowned, eyeing the spear in one of the guards' hands. If he could wrap his tail around that, he was quite hopeful he could jerk it out of the human's hands. The problem was, with the swordsman in front, he wasn't going to be able to get a grip without taking injury. 



It was looking to be a bad situation, all in all. All of them unarmed, Prae with his arms still bound, and their opponents with the high ground. 



Hmm. That gave Prae an idea. 



As if he were thinking the same, Anos whispered an instruction, and sank slowly to his knees, seeming to obey their instructions. This was a human he'd seen snap the arm of another downed guard just moments before. He'd do fine. 



The guards were getting closer now. Just where he needed them. So Prae put his hands behind his head, and started to lower himself. Not all the way to his knees, mind. 



Just low enough that his tail was at a level with the swordsman's ankles. 



With a twist, Prae's tail went whipping out, wrapping itself around the leading guard's leg, and yanking hard to topple the human over. Then, if the swordsman fell, Prae would rise back to his feet, and try to seize the spear with his tail and drag it out of its wielder's grip.

[Strange]

Anos dropped to his knees. He whispered to the others.

Against the door, the biqaj continued to feverishly meddle with the lock.

Praetorum slowly began to follow Anos’ lead.

“You two, stay down,” shouted the swordsman at the front with a gesture toward Amaris and the biqaj. “Stop that, apefish!”

The biqaj ignored the soldiers, entrusting them to the companions at their side. Their thin devices continued to scramble about the lock.

“I’m not gonna say it aga- Agh!” The swordsman cried out as his feet departed from the ground. Praetorum’s tail, an unexpected element as the guards hadn’t known it was so maneuverable, swept the man. The appendage wrapped around his leg and yanked.

The other two guards moved to the far sides of the narrow spiral staircase, opposite one another, to avoid getting caught up in the fall. A loud, deafening clang of metal against stone, and an ominous crack echoed from within the swordsman’s helm. He stayed fallen, limp and dead from just the wrong angle of a stone step against the metal of his helm, at the back of his neck.

The other two guards were shocked by the sudden change in what had seemed so advantageous.

In that moment of shock, the ithecal rose to his feet and his tail whipped out at the spear-holder.

“Ge-get away from me! Beast!” tried the guard. Even with the spear, defending from a lizardman of Praetorum’s size seemed a losing battle for this man, who let go of his spear in a here, take it! gesture. He turned, and ran for it, up the stairs.

The lone axe-wielder stared at the prisoners, then his companion who’d deserted him, then he swore lowly, “Fuck this.” He kept hold of his axe though, and sprinted after the other man with occasional glances to make sure nothing was headed toward his back.

It seemed the ithecal had managed to startle and scare away the possible loyalty of those particular guards.

The biqaj looked over at the other three and grinned, “Nice.”

They stood and held the door open for them. “Let’s go before they bring more people back and… you big boys, take that with us.”

The biqaj pointed with the sword toward the dead, armored swordsman. They made it clear they meant the whole damn guy including the weapon. Especially when they inclined their head toward Amaris and added, “We can’t carry it.”

After the three had gone through the threshold, as long as the swordsman had gotten taken along (even if the biqaj had to try and drag the damn corpse alone), then they slammed the door shut behind them.

In a new section of the prison, this corridor proved far different than the others. It was wider and taller in dimensions and had coarse runner carpets made from rough short-furs along the stone floor. The walls had tapestries strung up, and lanterns hung from the ceiling every few paces or so.

A few doors were along both sides of the corridor, made of reinforced steel. Runic symbols were stamped on the front. The biqaj counted them with a point to each one, then stopped at the seventh door to the left. They dropped to their knees again, drew out the lockpicking tools strapped on their thigh, and started to fiddle at the steel door like they had with the previous door.

The loud blare of horns echoed through the prison, slightly muffled in the hall where they were.

"Anyone coming?" asked the biqaj. "Kill them if they see us."

None of the group would see anyone else. It seemed the hall was mostly left to its lonesome, for now. A few clicks, then the biqaj put the implements back and said, "We're in, bring the body."

Through the door, they left the corridor - or those who did, found themselves in an adjacent room, as the steel door shut behind them. The biqaj walked to one side. The room was filled from floor to ceiling with open shelving cabinets. Lanterns illuminated portions of the space, and the group would look upon what was... a ton of stuff. From clothing to satchels to entire wagon's worth of supplies, all thrown into the room in haphazard fashion.

The biqaj quickened their pace, no longer walking, and hurried over to one of the shelves. They laughed, "Jackpot!"

From a bundled rucksack, they pulled out a long jumpsuit of dull black leather and cotton. Right then and there, the biqaj took off their lockpicking garter, shoes, and started to pull the jumpsuit on. Once it reached their hips , they pulled it up and over then maneuvered to get the suit under the tunic. The tunic went to the wayside, and the biqaj strapped the jumpsuit tight over their androgynous petite form.

They pulled on a pair of thick leather boots cuffed with fur. The biqaj grabbed a belt from the rucksack next, cinched it around their waist, then shrilly laughed, "They left my needles, those damn idiots!"

The biqaj paused from the recovery of their belongings, went over to the group and said, "The name is Zourvy. People call me Sour. I got to hand it to you three, you handle yourselves well. You find your belongings, we'll get out of here befo---" They paused and looked over at the ithecal. "Oh, the cuffs."

They took out a kit from their belt, proper lockpicking tools within the leather-bound case. Within mere trills, they unclasped the collar, then the cuffs from around Praetorum's neck... though it'd taken some managing to kneel on a nearby table for the biqaj to reach the collar.

"We're far from free," said Zourvy. "There's probably already guards out in that hall. Only matter of time until they check this room too. So, should we... barricade the door? Set up a trap? Or think we can take 'em? I think we can take'em. Especially with all we've got in here to work with. But once we do, we'll have to move."

"Get that armor off the guard, see if it fits any of you. We'll need the uniforms to wear, if we want to escape from here."

As if in timing, the sound of voices calling to one another echoed beyond the door in the hall. Zourvy looked to the others, gaze lingered on Praetorum, and waited for opinions - which would soon have to become actions, as time was running thin, before a handful of guards would burst through the door to search the storage room.

Guidelines

You may do, say, behave, act however you like.

Same as before, except...

• Praetorum killed one of the guards.
• The other two guards ran for it.
• Praetorum has a spear now.
• You are in a storage room (unless you foolishly stayed in the hall which... PM me if so).
• Praetorum: Your wrists are no longer shackled to the collar. YOU ARE FREEEE... of those.
• You can use this round to set-up OR you can write ahead and have guards actually show up in your posts (or both, see below). Just be aware that if you do so, success of any tactics or actions is not guaranteed.

!

Message from: Strange

Hello Anos, Amaris, and Praetorum! Amaris has passed this round (with OOC communication before the deadline). Please assume Amaris followed along, quietly. You have until 06:00 AM GMT on Saturday, January 4 to post a reply. Each player may post up to FOUR TIMES (min. 250 words) this round. If you need to pass the round or leave the event, contact me to let me know. If you have any questions, concerns, or issues, please PM me. Next Mod Post will be on January 6. Happy New Year!

[Praetorum]

Date: ??? of Vhalar, Arc 719

Status: Searching for his shyke

Weapons: Spear

Armor: None

No Current Magical Effects

Prae's plan worked even better than he'd expected, with the swordsman up front cracking his neck on the hard stone steps. Within moments, Prae had the spear in his tail, and an empty staircase in his sights as the sound of metal against stone faded away as the pair of guards fled.


Fleeing from unarmed—well, almost unarmed—prisoners was a dereliction of duty for sure, Prae mused as he turned to check on the biqaj's progress. Really, who trained these guards? 


The biqaj grinned up at Prae as the door swung open invitingly. Impressive; lockpicking had not been one of the skills his father had tried to teach him, but he saw its use now. Awkwardly passing the spear to his still bound hands, Prae wrapped his tail around the corpse's armpits, and gestured for Anos to help him with the legs as they hauled the body along with them through the open door. He wasn't sure what the body was for, but he'd follow the biqaj's lead for now. 



Through the door was another corridor, this one finer than the last, though that wasn't saying very much. Prae considered the rough carpet and heavy doors. "Is this the guard section of the prison? But...." he frowned as he watched the other prisoner count doors confidently. "How long did it take to scout out this far into the prison without getting caught?" They must have been planning this escape for a very, very long time indeed. But Prae had only been taken a few trials ago, and it seemed like many of the others had as well, from the conversation earlier. 



Prae was quiet until they entered what looked to be a badly organized storeroom; there, he let out a soft huff of relieved laughter. He set the guard down as the biqaj retrieved their things, and looked around for his own possessions while the smaller prisoner, Zourvy, worked at Prae's bindings. If he could just find the silk scabbard again, he would have almost his whole armory at his disposal. And with his arms free...




Prae stretched his arms out for the first time in trials, feeling the muscles ache and cramping after so long in that trapped position. "Thank you." Prae nodded at the biqaj. "Fates, that feels good." 



Unfortunately, according to Zourvy, they were on something of a tight time limit. "I agree we can take them, so we should focus on finding our things, especially weapons. But it's still not ideal; a fight might bring more guards than we can manage, or worse, one of the spellweavers or spellbinders or whatever. How many exits do we have from this room? If it's just this door, barricading ourselves in is just asking to be recaptured. In that case, if we can lure them in, and shut the door before we start fighting, that would be ideal, I think. Keep them from reinforcements. "


Prae frowned as another thought occurred to him. "What's your plan, to dress up as guards so we can move freely? We're not likely to find one with armor that fits me."


He started scanning the shelves, hoping to find his things quick. But if he couldn't... "Grab a weapon you can use." Prae called to Anos and Amaris, raising his stolen spear in demonstration. "Even if it's not yours. We want to be prepared for a fight even if we can't find our things in time."

[Strange]

Praetorum and Zourvy got on pretty well. Zourvy immediately changed their opinion of the lizardman from maybe useful to awesome scaley dude the moment that the guard’s head had cracked open on the stairs. From there, it was all smooth-sailing. The biqaj led the group, and the other two along with the lizardman simply followed along.

“Is this the guard section of the prison? But…” asked the lizardman.

“Oh no,” answered Zourvy in straight-forward fashion with a pep in their step and a playful wag of their finger. “My sister is over there, or should be.”

It was then that Zourvy lifted his arm, as if showing off something. If Praetorum squinted at the limb, he could make out a faint circular tattoo looped around their left forearm. Then, in an intuitive sense as only a marked individual might have, the ithecal realized that if the tattoo wasn’t so dull and maybe filled with light… that it would resemble something of a mark. If he knew anything of Qylios, he would recognize the mark as Celarion - and if he asked for such identification, Zourvy would provide confirmation without hesitation.

“How long did it take to scout out this far into the prison without getting caught?” asked Praetorum.

“It didn’t,” said Zourvy. They grinned slightly at the confounding answer that didn’t seem to fit the question. He hurried over to one of the doors and started to pick the lock while he explained, “We flipped a guard. He gave us the directions and maps of the place in pieces at a time. So… how long did that take? Lessee... Ferret was here before us but he wasn’t doing too well with the guards until Sneabru showed up. Maybe like… I don’t know, it’s kind of hard to tell how many trials, you know?”

“I haven’t seen the sun in what feels like forever. Stupid fucking Melrathi. We were supposed to sail out. I told her, these ingrates didn’t deserve any help but Vy - that’s my sister - she got all sentimental because there was a baby involved. And it got her caught up with the Ragnari, and they found out about her. I could have solved it, but she told me not to. Vy doesn’t like it when I take care of things… So where Vy goes, I go. No doubt about it! And now we’re here, but we never thought it’d be so damn long and cold and… the things they do to us… and worse, the things they make us do to each other… So, now we have a plan to get out.”

Zourvy led into the stockroom during the explanation and started to recover their belongings. After getting dressed in the leather catsuit, they paused to take care of the lizardman’s bindings and free him. The biqaj grinned when Prae said thank you and stretched out.

The biqaj mentioned their time limit, and suggested they might come up with a plan.

When Praetorum explained the various potential strategies, Zourvy counted some knives out and then settled them along the interior of their recovered boots. The biqaj pointed to the one door when asked about exits, then glanced around. “The guard said something about… hidden doors between rooms, though. I don’t know if that’s for every room or just some, or if this is one of them.”

“What's your plan, to dress up as guards so we can move freely?” asked the ithecal next. “We're not likely to find one with armor that fits me.”

“Oh… uh…” Zourvy scratched the back of their neck. They shrugged. “Maybe there’s a… Melrathi ithecal guard somewhere? That Spellweaver’s one so… Yeah, I think I’ve seen a big ol’ guard once or twice, maybe… somewhere… Or you know maybe we can… uh… I’m sure we can figure out something! Sneabru doesn’t really fit into any either, now that I think about it… what with your tails and all… huh.”

Meanwhile Anos and Amaris maintained mostly neutral positions and stances, almost as if they weren’t all there or maybe they were just overwhelmed by everything going on. When Praetorum suggested for them to grab a weapon, however, they moved almost automatically to follow their leader’s voice.

During their search for their items, the alarm horns muffled in the distance had finally stopped.

Zourvy hopped between both feet, spry, and said, “I’ll take care of them. Don’t you worry, big Sneabru. I won’t let anything happen to you. What was your name again?”

The sound of boots running down the hall echoed. It sounded like a lone guard, but the path went right up to the door. Zourvy looked at it, then at the others, and they took a small step to move behind Praetorum. The petite biqaj easily hid behind the ithecal.

A clink of keys, then the door started to open… and it revealed a single guard, alone in the corridor, who saw Praetorum and said, “Who are you? I don’t recognize any of you.”

Guidelines

You may do, say, behave, act however you like.

The rest of this thread will be extremely free-form. Keep in mind for this round...

• Praetorum, OOCly, you are solo playing this thread now.
• You still have your spear, and you found any of your non-living or blatantly magical-looking belongings.
• You are in a storage room.
• There appears to be one door.
• There might be a hidden door somewhere.
• There is one guard who has keys, asking you a question.

!

Message from: Strange

Hello Anos, Amaris, and Praetorum! Due to no OOC communication before passing this round, Anos and Amaris, your PCs have dropped out of the event and ICly, they are now imprisoned in Niflheim unless other players or an event does something that impacts the entire location as a whole. When you return to play, please PM the Melrath Mods for information on how to handle their imprisonment. For the remainder of this thread, your PCs will operate automatically as neutral NPCs but they will not be injured nor die. Praetorum, you may continue and since this is now a solo thread, replies may be more free-form and might go quicker than the deadline before, if replied sooner. Still, you have until 06:00 AM GMT on Saturday, January 18 to post a reply. If you need to pass the round or leave the event, contact me to let me know. If you have any questions, concerns, or issues, please PM me. Next Chapter will begin on January 20.

[Praetorum]

Date: ????

Status: Doing a real good yoink

Weapons: Scythe/Trident

Armor: Plate Leather chest and shoulder (L)

No Current Magical Effects

Just as Zourvy's estimation of Praetorum had risen in the last few bits, Prae's opinion of the biqaj went up quite a few notches when he saw the band wrapped around their arm. He'd seen some similar in Yaralon, though this one seemed faded, similar to Prae's own mark. Prae nodded in appreciation, and briefly raised his right hand to show Zourvy the Taithir mark he bore. He said nothing though, until the biqaj told him how they'd gotten the map of this place. 



"Flipped a guard?" Prae let out a soft disapproving scoff. "What lax standards they have here. Though that's all the better for us, I suppose, so I can't complain."


Then, he went silent again as Zourvy spoke of what they'd done, and had done to them in their time at this prison. He had a feeling the biqaj would rather not recount the details, so instead Prae was just silently glad that his own abduction had coincided so closely with this escape attempt.



As he scanned the shelves, a familiar flash of orange caught Prae's attention, and the ithecal smiled as he strode over to one of the shelves, and the leather armor that bore his clawprint. But the armor could wait; first on Praetorum's list of priorities was—


"Ah, here we go." Prae grinned as he spotted the items he had hoped most to see, and set the spear he'd been holding onto a shelf. Loosening the drawstrings of his domain bag, Prae reached a hand in, and sighed in relief as his arm disappeared up to the elbow in the bag. Then, he picked up the strip of silk coiled neatly on his armor, and tied it quickly around his wrist, before trying to summon his scythe from the Silk Scabbard. 



If it worked, Prae would keep his scythe in hand; if not, he would pull a trident from his domain bag. Either way, Prae was not going to be unarmed when trouble came knocking. 



"My name is Praetorum, not big Sneabru." Prae said drolly as he started to pull on his armor. "And we should keep an eye out for these secret doors, but let's not count on them when we don't know where they are. Same with disguising me; safest to assume that we won't be able to find a guard in my shape and size until we do." Until then, he'd feel more comfortable in his own armor.



But time was tight, and Prae had only just managed to pull on his breastplate and one pauldron when the sound of footsteps came ringing down the hall. Only one set, from the sound of it, and Prae took a few steps closer to the door, until all three of his companions were behind him. Right at his back, in Zourvy's case.


When the door opened, Prae didn't give the interloper time to speak; as soon as the door was open enough, Prae would make his move. If he'd managed to retrieve his scythe, he'd use the hook of it to snag the guard and drag him into the room; else, he'd use his ever versatile tail. 



"Close the door behind him." Prae called to Anos and Amaris, as he attempted to drag the guard into Zourvy's knife range. Like he'd said earlier, he didn't want this one calling for reinforcements.

[Amaris]

Amaris listened as their savior — Zourvy — had told his story. He seemed very attached to the Ithecal; perhaps pleased that he could be of some use. The mixed blood, however, would likely not be held in any sort of useful standing for some time. Or unless someone was injured along the way. That — that they could be useful for, but hoped not to be needed.

They hunched their shoulders, attempting to dimish some of their height lest they need to hide. But there wasn’t much hiding them. Their mind wandered as the two leaders spoke, over to Fiver and how he might be. Would he be terrified? Did he feel that Amaris was almost to freedom? Or was he someone’s meal? They spit pooled in their mouth at the thought of food, though they had already eaten. They swallowed it down and willed themself to focus — to find a weapon, their belongings — when the sound of footsteps interrupted them.

They froze like a deer caught in torchlight. Their hand was only a few centimeters away from the domain bag they knew to be theirs (covered in stray hairs and a feather sticking out) when he guard had stumbled upon them. Praetorum made to pull him in, and then instructed them to close the door behind him. Using their long legs (for once for their intended purpose) they bounded over to the door and closed it as gently and quickly as they could. They considered a look into the hall to see if there were any other guards to be wary of, but decided against it.

They glanced back to their bag. They could be useful, maybe, if they could reach inside and grab the one weapon they had ever learned to use.

[Strange]

When Praetorum showed the Taithir mark to Zourvy, the biqaj smiled slightly but said nothing else. It seemed the relation between the two being marked, though, would cement a certain understanding between them.

In the storage room, between everything else, Zourvy swiftly gathered more than just the one bag and started to collect items in a domain bag of their own.

Until trouble came a-knocking, or more accurately, unlocked the door and walked right in.


Zourvy swiftly hid behind Praetorum, using the large ithecal as a shield.

Within trills, Praetorum had the lone soldier by the scythe and dragged him in. Amaris quickly and quietly shut the door as instructed, then was able to acquire their domain bag and whatever they had inside.

“Wait!” cried the guard, who raised his hands in immediate surrender. “It's not what you think! I'm on your side!”

Zourvy moved around, a knife ready, then paused. They lowered the knife and a grin crept on their scarred lips, “Rolf? What're you doing here?"

“The meeting location changed, I thought I'd escort you through a faster path, before the guards arrive this way,” hurriedly explained Rolf.

Zourvy pressed on Praetorum's shoulder, then said, "This is the guard I mentioned. The one who gave us the maps. Let him be, Praetor. He'll do as he says."



!

Message from: Strange

Hello Amaris and Praetorum! This is the last mod post of this chapter. You each can make a conclusion post. Please collect whatever items your PC would think to grab, and then unless for some reason they wouldn't (which PM me if so) - you can assume leaving the storage room with Rolf and Zourvy. If there are any lingering questions or immediate actions, I will mod note any necessary responses. Deadline for a conclusion post is 06:00 AM GMT on Tuesday, January 25! You may only post ONCE (min. 250 words). If you have any questions, concerns, or issues, please PM me.

[Praetorum]

Date: ???

Status: Ready

Weapons: Scythe, Tower Shield

Armor: Platelike-Leather

No Current Magical Effects

Prae's grip on the guard loosened as Zourvy vouched for him, but it took a moment for Prae to finally release him. Personally, Prae was of the opinion that a guard who would abandon his duty had better have a damn good reason for it, but he said nothing of the sort, instead nodding as he explained that he was there to lead them to the new meeting spot. 



They had a few moments still to prepare, and as Zourvy seemed busy pulling an assortment of items into their own domain bag, Prae turned back to the shelves, trying to think of what they would need as he finished pulling on his armor. He wasn't quite sure of the plan, so he thought it best if he just took things that would be useful in a variety of situations; in the end, he pilfered a few more weapons—both melee and ranged—for the other escapees to use if they needed, two coils of rope, and any food he could find. 



Finally, Praetorum turned back to the dead guard on the floor, considering what Zourvy had said about their original plan. He could understand the group not accounting for him, but the fact that they hadn't considered that one of their own companions had a tail and would be easily recognizable was concerning. 



Still, they were committed to this course of action, and already Prae was mulling over a few ideas that he hoped might work. So he went to work stripping the guard of his uniform, and bundling it up into the bag. Better to have and not use the thing than to need it later. 


"Right, then." He said when it seemed that everyone had finished with their preparations. With shield and scythe in hand, he stood. "Let's be off."