Tuu'Saayn arrives at the chaos of the North Gate to find Grynn just picking himself up, having been caught just outside the blast area - still dazed and dazzled, but unhurt.
The gate itself has been scorched, not seriously damaged, but the surrounding twenty feet has been burnt to charcoal - this seems to have been a more powerful explosion than the last one, nothing remains except the huge beam of wood that had been being used as a battering ram.
The Portcullis and Gate still look strong, designed to keep any attacking army that has entered the Night Market from getting any further - the great wooden bolts and winch that are visible on the South Gate are on the other side here. The few blows the team with the Ram had managed had not been enough to destroy the portcullis, though it was a little battered.
Tuu'Saayn again had the sense of a listening mind, watching from somewhere beyond his sight.
The walls all around the Night Market are carved from solid stone - you don't know how far up they go, but there's no sign of the sky up there, just blackness. The occasional huge stone pillar in the Market itself suggests there may be some sort of roof up there, somewhere. Both the walls and the pillars are certainly climbable by someone who knows what they're doing.
***OoC: the great wooden bolts and winch that are visible on the South Gate So we can see and get to the mechanism that operates the South Gate and Portcullis?***
Gus comes skidding around the corner toward the South Road Gate, cloak flapping wildly behind him like a badly trained flag. His boots slap through puddles of ash and soot as he barrels toward Tuu'Saayn and Gryn, breathless but grinning in the way only a lunatic, or a genius, could manage under the circumstances.
He points wildly at the South Gate. "Alright, alright, alright, listen, listen!The North lot tried to bash their way through with a stick!" He throws both hands in the air, as if the very idea offends him personally. "A stick! Against a portcullis built to stop orc sieges!"
He doubles over, wheezing a laugh, then snaps upright, eyes bright with manic energy. "But we—we—have brains! And magic! And a complete disregard for our safety it seems!"
He whirls dramatically and jabs a soot-stained finger at the South Gate. "The bolts and winches are on this side! It's meant to be closed from inside the city! Which means—" he leans in close, stage-whispering like he's sharing a grand secret, "—we don't break the gate... we open it!"
Gus straightens up and rubs his hands together, his mind clearly racing. "Now, if the mechanism's still intact, and not, y'know, melted, we could throw the bolts, crank the winch, and let the whole heavy thing lift the way the gods intended!"
"So!" he says, clapping his hands once. "We crack that gate, herd the survivors through like frightened goats, and whoever’s trying to turn us into a bonfire loses a whole lot of their victims!"
He beams up at Tuu'Saayn and Gryn, utterly unbothered by the smoke, the screaming, or the distant threat of another explosion. "What d'ya say, friends? Shall we rudely interrupt somebody’s evil little party plans?"
He’s already hopping from foot to foot in anticipation. "Point me at that winch! I’ve got a deeply concerning amount of enthusiasm!"
Tuu'Saayn helps Gryn up, and pats a little dust off his shoulders. "It doesn't look like this gate is hardly even scratched. Lets try our luck on the South Gate and hopefully pick up our friends along the way. I think that escape is our only hope of survival." He glances quickly around the edges of the blast site. If he can quickly knock back any stands or tents to slow the spread of the flame, he does so (1 round max). He then sighs deeply, realizing that it is more important to get the people out than to save the tents from going up in flame. With that, he takes off, grim determination painted all over his red, soot smeared face as he races to the South Gate.
Tuu'Saayn listens to Gus' plan wordlessly. He was pulling wind like an old race horse fleeing the glue makers. The heat, smoke, and physical exertion were beginning to take their toll. He nods his approval, and is off again, setting a pace born of desperation more than hope. If the South Gate proved to be another dead... If we fail, they will all die... He gritted his teeth in determination and pushed on. If that was the case then they simply must not fail.
As Gus shouts his plan for the whole world to hear, Tuu'Saayn has a sinking feeling.
As the group approaches the Southern Gate, they are passed by people fleeing the other way, looks of terror on their faces.
In front of the gate stands a figure from Nightmare: Fourteen feet high, leathery wings furled behind it, a huge Mace hung from its belt and its whole body wreathed in flames.
Opening the Gates would have been an epic Jest - but only if it was a Surprise.
Gryn accepts the help from Tuu'Saayn to regain his feet and similar thoughts begin to cloud his mind, putting out the flames and trying to prevent them from spreading falls a distant second to getting these people out of here live.
He races and dashes after the others as they start for the South Gate. Hoping he won't be greeted by another fireball Gryn pumps his little legs furiously and speeds toward the South Gate. Ducking, deking, and weaving through the crowd fleeing in the opposite direction Gryn flies unerringly like an arrow shot in the dark, seeking it's target blindly, knowing only that they must reach the South Gate first. Without stopping or slowing Gryn barrels onward, charging directly at any and all who stand before the South Gate.
"Arrggghhhh!!!!!"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"A rightful place awaits you in the Realms Above, in the Land of the Great Light. Come in peace, and live beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow."
— The message of Eilistraee to all decent drow.
"Run thy sword across my chains, Silver Lady, that I may join your dance.”
[Looks like It's time for everyone else to roll initiative?]
Gryn's charge carries him forward while others falter and skid - until he stands toe-to-toe with this terrifying fiend. It doesn't even seem to notice him, while he can see every scale on its shins, and the way the flames all flow upwards and across toward its hand, where a tiny spark of flame hovers above its palm.
The Beast is marked with several slashes, and the hilt of a sword protrudes from its leg. The stench of brimstone is overpowering, and Gryn can feel the sheer evil malevolence radiating from it.
At last we meet. Tuu'Saayn "says" to the beast using no verbal words. He offers a slight bow, not like he gave Torm, nothing like that, more a recognition of the awesome power that radiated from the monster. We are not so dissimilar, you and I. From fire we were born, into this existence we were thrown; freaks of the flame in a world of water, and we are both met with fear and loathing among "civilized" folk.
Tell me, bringer of flame and destruction, what joy can this bring you? You slaughter common folk, merchant's, seamstresses, and street cleaners. Would not a foe worthy of your awesome power be more satisfying?
Tuu'Saayn stood calmly, hands clasped behind his back. He knew that this foe was beyond him, beyond them, possibly beyond the united strength of everyone remaining. His thoughts were not muddled in fear, should fate declare this his end he would meet it with dignity and strength of heart. He secretly hoped that his sacrifice may buy some time for his friends to get away, or to come up with a plan, but he kept those desires buried deep, hopefully far from the probing mind of the fiend.
Gus skids to a halt behind Tuu'Saayn, boots sending up little puffs of ash, and nearly bowls over a fleeing townsman in the process. He straightens, clutching his knees, blinking up — and up — and up — at the towering nightmare of flame and terror looming over them.
He takes one look at the massive fiend, the literal hellfire, the faint scent of charred socks, and very quietly, very seriously mutters, "Oh, well that's just a big ol' pile of no, isn't it?"
Even as Gryn made his fatal charge, the Beast locked eyes with Tuu'Saayn, ignoring all else.
"My work here is almost done - of all the Council who answered the summons, only Cornwallis remains. The rest of these souls are...unsatisfying - but I would sooner kill them than not.
My Summoner naively believes that allowing me to sate my bloodlust thus will lessen my hatred of them. I will drive these mortals, chase them with fire and with fury, until they turn on each other - or not. It matters not at all, except that some few of them may yet be damned by their actions. I am merely passing the remaining hours I must spend on this plane.
But what of you? Have you chosen to die here, amongst these fools - or will you accept my Bargain, and Live?"
From the way his heart jumps at Janet's name, Tuu'Saayn understands that this fiend can hear little more than his surface thoughts - else it would surely have gleaned her location from his memory.
He takes one look at the massive fiend, the literal hellfire, the faint scent of charred socks, and very quietly, very seriously mutters, "Oh, well that's just a big ol' pile of no, isn't it?"
Although not a word has been spoken, Gus can see the way the Beast's eyes are fixed on Tuu'Saayn - the way Tuu'Saayn returns the stare, frowning.
He can only guess what might be passing between these two.
Give voice to your offer, that I may consider it in the glowing light of your hellfire. In either case, are we not worth more among the living? Look at the chaos that we have wrought, in an effort to do good. Surely the dark lords of the hells relish in the destruction brought about by the good intentioned. Was not the weeping of my soul like a fine wine?
As he "spoke" with the fiend, he narrowed his focus. His years of training guided his next play. As he stood calmly facing the beast, his fingers danced behind his back using common sign language. His head ached with the focus needed to separate his telepathic dialog from the words he spelled. (Hide Janet. I'll buy some time. He can't stay here forever...) Tuu'Saayn couldn't even afford to hope that someone behind him understood, his mind had to stay locked in his conversation with Big Red.
"This whole affair is a waste of my time. I care nothing for your miserable, brief lives - it is always Order that we seek: More Power to impose our will and bring greater order to the universe.
In an earlier age, when my Lord was as I am now, a simple Knight, they were bound to a summoning stone, forced to do the bidding of a Mighty Mage. That stone was thought destroyed in a cataclysm, but it has survived - and its uses have been discovered by one in the Citadel above. It lacks the strength to compel a Lord such as I serve, but its command remains potent - so I am sent to serve as my Lord's Lieutenant, and act in their stead.
I have worked their will in the corridors of power, brought low their enemies and those who would resist them - but they understand, now, the hazards of even speaking with one of my Order: Thus I am sent to linger here, bound to remain within the Night Market, until Dawn's Light releases me or they choose to call upon me again.
As for my offer, it is simple enough: I will let you live, and in return you must perform a task for me."
Gus swallowed the fear down like broken glass, and, instead of reaching for weapons or spells (neither of which would help against a creature like that), he did what he could:
He dropped low and hissed up toward Tuu'Saayn:
"I'll find another way out!"he rasped. "Hold its eye! Give me a minute! Two, if I'm lucky!"
Not daring to cast anything flashy (it would be like lighting a match in a gunpowder store), Gus ducked into the debris, looking — searching — for a needle in a haystack, a mechanism, a latch, anything that might help force the South Gate open.
And if he couldn't find anything?
Well... Gus knew how to find weak spots. He always had. A crack in a stone. A rotten timber. A door that looked sturdy until you hit it just right.
His mind raced, already working angles as he darted around the debris, heart pounding:
"Come on, Gus,"he muttered under his breath. "You're not gonna die here. You're gonna be the one who got the bloody gates open."
All the while, he kept one ear tuned to the scene behind him, ready to sprint back to Tuu'Saayn if the worst happened, to drag him away if it came to that.
What arrogant fool would have the nerve to claim such a servant as you? He did not have to fake the sincerity in his question, the young Tiefling could not wrap his head around the very notion of anyone summoning such a monstrosity. Tuu'Saayn pauses for a moment his next thought was "unspoken", yet pushed to the forefront of his conscious mind. If the summoning stone were disabled, destroyed, or "removed" from the posession of the fool who orchestrated this slaughter, would the summoned fiend be freed to turn on its former master?
"Come on, Gus,"he muttered under his breath. "You're not gonna die here. You're gonna be the one who got the bloody gates open."
All the while, he kept one ear tuned to the scene behind him, ready to sprint back to Tuu'Saayn if the worst happened, to drag him away if it came to that.
As he searched, Gus had a moment to think; How had the Beast known where to be?
Even from his low viewpoint, opening the gates looked easy enough: A solid wooden bar was all that held them in place - But wait, what was that gleam of bronze atop the bar?
Could it be?
Yes: shackling the bar in place was a gleaming, polished, 'Arlington and Burke Number 13B' - Un-bribeable, stalwart, stronger than any guard, the hated fastener seemed to mock him with its shining reflections of distant fires.
Plus, of course, no-one was going through that gate until the Fiend got out of the way, and the gate was the only entrance to the tunnel, and the tunnel was the only road out of the Night Market...
Tuu'Saayn arrives at the chaos of the North Gate to find Grynn just picking himself up, having been caught just outside the blast area - still dazed and dazzled, but unhurt.
The gate itself has been scorched, not seriously damaged, but the surrounding twenty feet has been burnt to charcoal - this seems to have been a more powerful explosion than the last one, nothing remains except the huge beam of wood that had been being used as a battering ram.
The Portcullis and Gate still look strong, designed to keep any attacking army that has entered the Night Market from getting any further - the great wooden bolts and winch that are visible on the South Gate are on the other side here. The few blows the team with the Ram had managed had not been enough to destroy the portcullis, though it was a little battered.
Tuu'Saayn again had the sense of a listening mind, watching from somewhere beyond his sight.
***OoC: The wall around the gate has been burned to charcoal? Enough damage to try and get through the wall? How tall is the wall (climbable)?***
Perception: 21
The walls all around the Night Market are carved from solid stone - you don't know how far up they go, but there's no sign of the sky up there, just blackness. The occasional huge stone pillar in the Market itself suggests there may be some sort of roof up there, somewhere. Both the walls and the pillars are certainly climbable by someone who knows what they're doing.
***OoC: the great wooden bolts and winch that are visible on the South Gate So we can see and get to the mechanism that operates the South Gate and Portcullis?***
Gus comes skidding around the corner toward the South Road Gate, cloak flapping wildly behind him like a badly trained flag. His boots slap through puddles of ash and soot as he barrels toward Tuu'Saayn and Gryn, breathless but grinning in the way only a lunatic, or a genius, could manage under the circumstances.
He points wildly at the South Gate. "Alright, alright, alright, listen, listen! The North lot tried to bash their way through with a stick!" He throws both hands in the air, as if the very idea offends him personally. "A stick! Against a portcullis built to stop orc sieges!"
He doubles over, wheezing a laugh, then snaps upright, eyes bright with manic energy.
"But we—we—have brains! And magic! And a complete disregard for our safety it seems!"
He whirls dramatically and jabs a soot-stained finger at the South Gate. "The bolts and winches are on this side! It's meant to be closed from inside the city! Which means—" he leans in close, stage-whispering like he's sharing a grand secret, "—we don't break the gate... we open it!"
Gus straightens up and rubs his hands together, his mind clearly racing. "Now, if the mechanism's still intact, and not, y'know, melted, we could throw the bolts, crank the winch, and let the whole heavy thing lift the way the gods intended!"
"So!" he says, clapping his hands once. "We crack that gate, herd the survivors through like frightened goats, and whoever’s trying to turn us into a bonfire loses a whole lot of their victims!"
He beams up at Tuu'Saayn and Gryn, utterly unbothered by the smoke, the screaming, or the distant threat of another explosion.
"What d'ya say, friends? Shall we rudely interrupt somebody’s evil little party plans?"
He’s already hopping from foot to foot in anticipation. "Point me at that winch! I’ve got a deeply concerning amount of enthusiasm!"
Tuu'Saayn helps Gryn up, and pats a little dust off his shoulders. "It doesn't look like this gate is hardly even scratched. Lets try our luck on the South Gate and hopefully pick up our friends along the way. I think that escape is our only hope of survival." He glances quickly around the edges of the blast site. If he can quickly knock back any stands or tents to slow the spread of the flame, he does so (1 round max). He then sighs deeply, realizing that it is more important to get the people out than to save the tents from going up in flame. With that, he takes off, grim determination painted all over his red, soot smeared face as he races to the South Gate.
Tuu'Saayn listens to Gus' plan wordlessly. He was pulling wind like an old race horse fleeing the glue makers. The heat, smoke, and physical exertion were beginning to take their toll. He nods his approval, and is off again, setting a pace born of desperation more than hope. If the South Gate proved to be another dead... If we fail, they will all die... He gritted his teeth in determination and pushed on. If that was the case then they simply must not fail.
As Gus shouts his plan for the whole world to hear, Tuu'Saayn has a sinking feeling.
As the group approaches the Southern Gate, they are passed by people fleeing the other way, looks of terror on their faces.
In front of the gate stands a figure from Nightmare:
Fourteen feet high, leathery wings furled behind it, a huge Mace hung from its belt and its whole body wreathed in flames.
Opening the Gates would have been an epic Jest - but only if it was a Surprise.
Gryn accepts the help from Tuu'Saayn to regain his feet and similar thoughts begin to cloud his mind, putting out the flames and trying to prevent them from spreading falls a distant second to getting these people out of here live.
He races and dashes after the others as they start for the South Gate. Hoping he won't be greeted by another fireball Gryn pumps his little legs furiously and speeds toward the South Gate. Ducking, deking, and weaving through the crowd fleeing in the opposite direction Gryn flies unerringly like an arrow shot in the dark, seeking it's target blindly, knowing only that they must reach the South Gate first. Without stopping or slowing Gryn barrels onward, charging directly at any and all who stand before the South Gate.
"Arrggghhhh!!!!!"
[Looks like It's time for everyone else to roll initiative?]
Gryn's charge carries him forward while others falter and skid - until he stands toe-to-toe with this terrifying fiend. It doesn't even seem to notice him, while he can see every scale on its shins, and the way the flames all flow upwards and across toward its hand, where a tiny spark of flame hovers above its palm.
The Beast is marked with several slashes, and the hilt of a sword protrudes from its leg. The stench of brimstone is overpowering, and Gryn can feel the sheer evil malevolence radiating from it.
At last we meet. Tuu'Saayn "says" to the beast using no verbal words. He offers a slight bow, not like he gave Torm, nothing like that, more a recognition of the awesome power that radiated from the monster. We are not so dissimilar, you and I. From fire we were born, into this existence we were thrown; freaks of the flame in a world of water, and we are both met with fear and loathing among "civilized" folk.
Tell me, bringer of flame and destruction, what joy can this bring you? You slaughter common folk, merchant's, seamstresses, and street cleaners. Would not a foe worthy of your awesome power be more satisfying?
Tuu'Saayn stood calmly, hands clasped behind his back. He knew that this foe was beyond him, beyond them, possibly beyond the united strength of everyone remaining. His thoughts were not muddled in fear, should fate declare this his end he would meet it with dignity and strength of heart. He secretly hoped that his sacrifice may buy some time for his friends to get away, or to come up with a plan, but he kept those desires buried deep, hopefully far from the probing mind of the fiend.
Gus skids to a halt behind Tuu'Saayn, boots sending up little puffs of ash, and nearly bowls over a fleeing townsman in the process. He straightens, clutching his knees, blinking up — and up — and up — at the towering nightmare of flame and terror looming over them.
He takes one look at the massive fiend, the literal hellfire, the faint scent of charred socks, and very quietly, very seriously mutters, "Oh, well that's just a big ol' pile of no, isn't it?"
Even as Gryn made his fatal charge, the Beast locked eyes with Tuu'Saayn, ignoring all else.
"My work here is almost done - of all the Council who answered the summons, only Cornwallis remains. The rest of these souls are...unsatisfying - but I would sooner kill them than not.
My Summoner naively believes that allowing me to sate my bloodlust thus will lessen my hatred of them. I will drive these mortals, chase them with fire and with fury, until they turn on each other - or not. It matters not at all, except that some few of them may yet be damned by their actions. I am merely passing the remaining hours I must spend on this plane.
But what of you? Have you chosen to die here, amongst these fools - or will you accept my Bargain, and Live?"
From the way his heart jumps at Janet's name, Tuu'Saayn understands that this fiend can hear little more than his surface thoughts - else it would surely have gleaned her location from his memory.
Although not a word has been spoken, Gus can see the way the Beast's eyes are fixed on Tuu'Saayn - the way Tuu'Saayn returns the stare, frowning.
He can only guess what might be passing between these two.
Give voice to your offer, that I may consider it in the glowing light of your hellfire. In either case, are we not worth more among the living? Look at the chaos that we have wrought, in an effort to do good. Surely the dark lords of the hells relish in the destruction brought about by the good intentioned. Was not the weeping of my soul like a fine wine?
As he "spoke" with the fiend, he narrowed his focus. His years of training guided his next play. As he stood calmly facing the beast, his fingers danced behind his back using common sign language. His head ached with the focus needed to separate his telepathic dialog from the words he spelled. (Hide Janet. I'll buy some time. He can't stay here forever...) Tuu'Saayn couldn't even afford to hope that someone behind him understood, his mind had to stay locked in his conversation with Big Red.
"This whole affair is a waste of my time. I care nothing for your miserable, brief lives - it is always Order that we seek: More Power to impose our will and bring greater order to the universe.
In an earlier age, when my Lord was as I am now, a simple Knight, they were bound to a summoning stone, forced to do the bidding of a Mighty Mage. That stone was thought destroyed in a cataclysm, but it has survived - and its uses have been discovered by one in the Citadel above. It lacks the strength to compel a Lord such as I serve, but its command remains potent - so I am sent to serve as my Lord's Lieutenant, and act in their stead.
I have worked their will in the corridors of power, brought low their enemies and those who would resist them - but they understand, now, the hazards of even speaking with one of my Order: Thus I am sent to linger here, bound to remain within the Night Market, until Dawn's Light releases me or they choose to call upon me again.
As for my offer, it is simple enough: I will let you live, and in return you must perform a task for me."
Gus swallowed the fear down like broken glass, and, instead of reaching for weapons or spells (neither of which would help against a creature like that), he did what he could:
He dropped low and hissed up toward Tuu'Saayn:
"I'll find another way out!" he rasped. "Hold its eye! Give me a minute! Two, if I'm lucky!"
Not daring to cast anything flashy (it would be like lighting a match in a gunpowder store), Gus ducked into the debris, looking — searching — for a needle in a haystack, a mechanism, a latch, anything that might help force the South Gate open.
And if he couldn't find anything?
Well... Gus knew how to find weak spots. He always had.
A crack in a stone.
A rotten timber.
A door that looked sturdy until you hit it just right.
His mind raced, already working angles as he darted around the debris, heart pounding:
"Come on, Gus," he muttered under his breath. "You're not gonna die here. You're gonna be the one who got the bloody gates open."
All the while, he kept one ear tuned to the scene behind him, ready to sprint back to Tuu'Saayn if the worst happened, to drag him away if it came to that.
Perception or Investigation roll same Mod: 15
What arrogant fool would have the nerve to claim such a servant as you? He did not have to fake the sincerity in his question, the young Tiefling could not wrap his head around the very notion of anyone summoning such a monstrosity. Tuu'Saayn pauses for a moment his next thought was "unspoken", yet pushed to the forefront of his conscious mind. If the summoning stone were disabled, destroyed, or "removed" from the posession of the fool who orchestrated this slaughter, would the summoned fiend be freed to turn on its former master?
As he searched, Gus had a moment to think; How had the Beast known where to be?
Even from his low viewpoint, opening the gates looked easy enough: A solid wooden bar was all that held them in place - But wait, what was that gleam of bronze atop the bar?
Could it be?
Yes: shackling the bar in place was a gleaming, polished, 'Arlington and Burke Number 13B' - Un-bribeable, stalwart, stronger than any guard, the hated fastener seemed to mock him with its shining reflections of distant fires.
Plus, of course, no-one was going through that gate until the Fiend got out of the way, and the gate was the only entrance to the tunnel, and the tunnel was the only road out of the Night Market...
"There are things I may not speak of - I am...constrained by the power that summoned me."