Nicodemus,
...angrymen number 1 paw (ie 5) at front door...2 angrymen at back door...
You hear, over the din of the newly free Orcs, a bursting, splintering noise (much like the impact of a 12 pound shot you heard once, serving on the THORGRIM'S WRATH), and over your shoulder you glimpse Vemuz bowled over as the front door shakes. The portal holds, however, for the moment.
Vemuz,
Your momentary distraction proves your undoing, as the door shudders again, almost slamming open. The impact flings you to the ground like a bundle of sailcloth, your unexpected flight terminating in a very inglorious landing on your backside.
(OOC: I treated the watchmen's attempt to force the door as a bullrush, opposed by you and Malachi on the other side of the door. Because you failed your STR check, you took the brunt of the bullrush and were forced back 5 feet.)
Malachi,
The door shudders again as the watchmen fling themselves against it. Vemuz, distracted by a momentary glance over his shoulder, is knocked off balance and is hurled back a few feet, making an inglorious landing on his backside.
Calypso must approve of your venture, however, for as your prayers leave your lips you feel Her strength flow in your veins. The door holds.
Meanwhile on the other side of the door, the Protectress of Mariners shows her other face; a low note like a ship's bell reverbrates through the oaken planks, and the next blow on the door is weak and disheartened. It feels almost as though the watchmen are afraid to approach the door.
Your original prayer to Her is answered as well; you can see through one of the small barred windows that the courtyard where the auction block stands is filled with a "pea-soup" fog.
You can also hear snatches of the watchmen's conversation outside the door via the same window.
"...ain't natural, Sar'nt. First this fog, an' then th' bell...you'd think Calypso Herself is against us. Or maybe Davy Jones...shouldn' we call...magical reinforcements?"
"Damn your eyes, Wilkes, what kind o' superstitious nonsense 're ya spoutin' now? Calypso don't care about no score 're two o' flea bitten Porcs, even if they are prime hands! I'll be damned if I'll call fer magical reinforcements, my report's gonna read that Sar'nt Q. Jones captured that there lot o' Porc-stealers on his own. Don't need to be roustin' no damned mages out o' their beds at this hour, 's just a coupla Porc-stealin' bandits holed up in there. Now put yer backs into it, all o' ya!"