Darkhawk: The Horror Begins

[airwalkrr]

As Allister moves down the hallway, the open cells appear devoid of life, but that is not particularly comforting, as one of them contains a skeletal corpse whose flesh has already been mostly gnawed off by vermin. The body, or what is left of it, rests sitting against the wall, arms held up in shackles.

By an incredible stroke of luck, Allister notices a cracked piece of mortar on the corner of the wall by the skeleton's cell. Giving the piece a tug, it dislodges from the wall with a crack. As the noise ricochetes down the hall, the drunken guard snorts and smacks his mouth before he begins once again his droning snore. Allister now holds a fairly large chunk of mortar.

Approaching closer, Allister notices the guard's skin seeps a vile yellow ichor. The smell is nauseating, and Allister finds himself repulsed by the awful odor.

Allister failed a Fortitude save and is now nauseated (move actions only). The mortar can be used as an improvised weapon for 1d4 bludgeoning damage with a -4 penalty on the attack roll. Of course, it can also be used to coup de grace a helpless opponent if such is your desire.

 

[Le Noir Faineant]

Balin is a young man of about 20, with distinctive elvish traits, but dark hair. His clothes are colourful like from a juggler. You would easily mistake for a lighthearted young drunkard, but the determined way he moves and acts betray his friendly looks...

Balin will look for a rope and something to gag the drunken gard; if there's nothing to be found, he'll signal Allister to knock the guard down.

Seeing Allister's sign, Balin heads towards the guard and will try to listen what he can hear from outside...

 

[dave_o]

"Urk!" Allister quickly jams a hand over his mouth, stopping for a moment and jerking his head to the side, his stomach roiling. What terrible hole have I landed in? Turning to follow Balin up the corridor, Allister catches up, tapping the elf once on the shoulder. As Balin turns, Allister taps the hunk of mortar in his left hand, and then gestures toward the unconcious guard, finally drawing a finger across his own throat. As clear as it can get, Allister places the mortar in Balin's hand, before plastering his own hand to his lips to fight back another wave of nausea.

That wretched stink, am I brought so low so easily? After what I've seen? Allister slips the front of his tunic up over his face, covering his nose, in a futile attempt to diffuse the stink, even if only a little.

Don't muck it up, elfling.

OOC: Coup de graces are full round actions so our Allister is too damn sick to do it.

 

[Jemal]

Jonathon moves closer to the door while replying to kryos in hushed tones. "I most certainly am, I feel much the same as you, I'ld wager." He peers around the corner where the other two left. His youthful face, apparently unmarked by battle or weather, frowns as he sees the sleeping guard. Pulling back, he straightens revealing his impressive, hard muscled stature, running a hand through his cropped black hair. "I am Sir Jonathon...I'm, a, uh.. a knight."

 

[Blind Azathoth]

Kyros, an anemically pale young man of great height but little weight, his most notable features his hooked nose and unusually long (for a man, at any rate) black hair, glances over the young-looking "Sir Jonathon" with piercingly bright blue eyes. "A knight?" he muses, still sounding hoarse--the rasp is apparently his normal voice. The pale man smirks. "Of course."

Kyros reaches up to his neck, but not finding what he seeks there, drops to a knee and begins feeling around on the floor. A few moments later, he gives a quiet "ah!" as he discovers the item he was searching for, crumpled up in the corner: a cloak of a deep burgundy, though it is currently covered in dust and more closely resembles in color the grey-black tunic and pants he also wears. He stands, shakes the dust from the cloak, and wraps it around himself, fastening it at the neck.

With this done, Kyros silently moves to join Jonathon at the door to the cell. He peers out to observe the activities of his two fellow captives, but says nothing, and does not move to join them.

 

[airwalkrr]

Jonathon and Kyros can see Allister wretching as Balin stands before the guard holding the mortar, apparently contemplating the murder of the drunken fellow.

 

[Le Noir Faineant]

[ Is there no other option but killing the guard? - Maybe Balin could simply knock him unconscious. In any case, he'll not hesitate to strike if the guard wakes up. ]

 

[airwalkrr]

You could attempt to knock him unconscious with nonlethal damage, but that would require an attack roll and deal less damage. Although you would be attacking a helpless, prone opponent, you would be taking a net -10 penalty on your attack roll (-4 improvised, -4 nonlethal, -2 sickened). If you miss and strike the wall instead, the guard might wake up. Additionally, you do not know how many hit points the guard has, so 1d4+Str may not be enough to knock him out. But you are free to try it if you wish.

 

[dave_o]

Seeing the hesitation in Balin's eyes, Allister pads over to the elf. Midway he stifles another retch, his right hand a closed fist over his mouth, bending double from the effort. What is wrong with me? This elf looks like a green boy yet he has no trouble with that wretched stink. Perhaps I have merely seen too much. Looking Balin in the eye, Allister raises an inquiring brow.

"Quickly now," he whispers, his voice gravel, "he'd do for you twice as fast." Another retch, a close thing this time, Allister grimacing as he swallows a gob of bile. Gesturing at the empty cells, a bit of desperation colors Allister's murmuring, "Seems a rare thing to get this chance -- if the other two are even half-handy fighters we just may fashion a way out of," he pauses, blinking heavily to keep from heaving, "wherever we may be."

Allister turns his gaze to the guard, turning away a bit at the sight of the vile yellow ichor. "Unless our benefactor wakes up." His gaze meets Balin's once more, patting the jagged hunk of mortar with a leathery hand.

"Which he won't do."

 

[Le Noir Faineant]

Balin's eyes narrow as he whispers back. "I am not into useless bloodshed. What about gaging and binding him and locking him into a cell?"

- All the while, the young half-elf holds the club ready, to strike should the guard wake up...