Auriel stands still, watching from behind the tree, waiting for any kind of signal that they should act. He can't see what's happening on Hex's side, but at the same time, he doesn't hear any commotion coming from there, so he assumes she has succeded in freeing the Lord Protector. He whispers to Hildigrim and Carl, "Should we proceed?"
Hildigrim realizes — only after several seconds — that he’s been counting under his breath. A habit. A Harper’s way of marking time, of measuring how long something should take. The number is higher than he likes.
He scowls. “What is taking Hex so long?” he mutters, answering Auriel’s question with one of his own. His eyes flick again to the last of the guards sprinting after their comrades, their shouts fading into the chaos of the street. Then his gaze returns to the man they believe to be the Lord Regent — hands bound, ankles tied, seated helplessly against other prisoners.
Something gnaws at him.
He narrows his eyes, pushing his spectacles higher up the bridge of his nose. “I can’t be sure,” he says quietly, “but … it looks like hardly any guards are left. That should have been her cue.” His jaw tightens. “Why hasn’t she untied the prisoners?”
His mind begins to race through possibilities — too many of them bad.
Hildigrim glances between Auriel and Carl, voice low and clipped. “Either something’s delaying her … or something’s wrong.”
His hand drifts toward the bow on his back — habit, instinct, precaution — while his eyes stay fixed on the still-bound prisoners, searching for any twitch, any shift, any sign he missed the first time.
“What if we target the remaining guard, attacking on cue, a sudden, overwhelming attack. Then escape with as many as can come, focused on the Lord Regent of course.” Carl keeps looking to see if anyone else has noticed, or if the guard remains alone.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
"We need to move quickly before the rest of the guards return and night falls. The Welcomers are working on a way to escape Phlan and they've agreed to take any refugees we bring them before nightfall."
The Lord Regent nods resolutely. "We can discuss this more once free. It's going to be up to you. The moment any of us move, the element of--" he quiets suddenly as the guard turns back your way, scanning over the prisoners and fidgeting nervously.
Hex nods, though the Lord Regent can't see her. "I'll leave my shortsword here with you, just in case you need it. I'll be back." She swiftly makes her way over to the guard and sneaks up behind them. As she goes to slice open the guard's throat with her scimitar, she simultaneously casts Hunter's Mark, hoping to end the fight as quickly as possible.
(Assuming she isn't spotted and has advantage.)
Scimitar Attack: 18 to hit Damage - 10 Hunter's Mark - 2 Favored Foe - 1
Auriel stands still, watching from behind the tree, waiting for any kind of signal that they should act. He can't see what's happening on Hex's side, but at the same time, he doesn't hear any commotion coming from there, so he assumes she has succeded in freeing the Lord Protector. He whispers to Hildigrim and Carl, "Should we proceed?"
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
Hildigrim realizes — only after several seconds — that he’s been counting under his breath. A habit. A Harper’s way of marking time, of measuring how long something should take.
The number is higher than he likes.
He scowls. “What is taking Hex so long?” he mutters, answering Auriel’s question with one of his own. His eyes flick again to the last of the guards sprinting after their comrades, their shouts fading into the chaos of the street. Then his gaze returns to the man they believe to be the Lord Regent — hands bound, ankles tied, seated helplessly against other prisoners.
Something gnaws at him.
He narrows his eyes, pushing his spectacles higher up the bridge of his nose. “I can’t be sure,” he says quietly, “but … it looks like hardly any guards are left. That should have been her cue.” His jaw tightens. “Why hasn’t she untied the prisoners?”
His mind begins to race through possibilities — too many of them bad.
Hildigrim glances between Auriel and Carl, voice low and clipped. “Either something’s delaying her … or something’s wrong.”
His hand drifts toward the bow on his back — habit, instinct, precaution — while his eyes stay fixed on the still-bound prisoners, searching for any twitch, any shift, any sign he missed the first time.
“What if we target the remaining guard, attacking on cue, a sudden, overwhelming attack. Then escape with as many as can come, focused on the Lord Regent of course.” Carl keeps looking to see if anyone else has noticed, or if the guard remains alone.
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
The Lord Regent nods resolutely. "We can discuss this more once free. It's going to be up to you. The moment any of us move, the element of--" he quiets suddenly as the guard turns back your way, scanning over the prisoners and fidgeting nervously.
See my profile for all my PbP threads!
Hex nods, though the Lord Regent can't see her. "I'll leave my shortsword here with you, just in case you need it. I'll be back." She swiftly makes her way over to the guard and sneaks up behind them. As she goes to slice open the guard's throat with her scimitar, she simultaneously casts Hunter's Mark, hoping to end the fight as quickly as possible.
(Assuming she isn't spotted and has advantage.)
Scimitar Attack: 18 to hit Damage - 10 Hunter's Mark - 2 Favored Foe - 1
If the scimitar attack doesn’t drop the guard, Carl launches.
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.