No Good Deed- Shadow of the Demon Lord- Prologue

Ruin

The Clockwork instinctively rubs their wrists when Relict neatly pops the lock open; an oddly human gesture.

"Thank you, Relict. I am Ruin. You are an impressive and efficient killer. I assume it assists with your survival and dietary needs. Speaking of survival, let us leave this unpleasant place with these most interesting people."

As they head towards the door, Ruin pauses to survey the remaining prisoners. "Good news, everyone. There is now a very high probability you will all either be liberated or die very soon. Either way, your current suffering will most likely be ending quite shortly. I am sure you must all be pleased. I am leaving now. Goodbye."
 
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Orm

The giant sighs, still working at the stock around his neck. He looks round at the living misery around him. "He's not wrong, you know." Wrenching off the stock, the giant gratefully rubs his suppurative neck. "Makes you feel better," he says, ducking through the doorway, "gonna kill someone with this." He holds up the shorn half of iron stock in one hand like a trophy. "I'll throw a few swings for you." And then he's gone after the clockwork.
 
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"N-now hold one a moment" pipes up the Caercas man, "if you're leaving the rest of to die at least unlock the chains and let us die free! Gods only know what's really on either side of these walls!"

The young New God adherent has stopped screaming, and is now quietly whimpering as he dies.
 
Runt

There's no mirth in the smile the lanky orc gives the noble prick from the doorway. Nothing but malice and hatred.

"How many orcs died free, Pink?"

He closes the door.
 
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A shocked look and sharp intake of breath is cut off by the heavy door slamming shut.

You find yourselves in a familiar chamber, having spent time in each of the two dozen or so cells lining the walls on this level. Whimpering can be heard from some of the small cells with metal bars in place of doors, and the stench of fear and degradation is everywhere. Some of the torches have guttered out from the dust raining down after each sttack, leaving the area dimly lit. The few rats eyeing you from shadowy corners look far better-fed than any of the group, their fur certainly shinier than the clockwork's outer plating.

Close by is the staircase to the rest of the compound. It leads up and ends in a junction; from memory, you believe the warden's office is to the left, and the torture room to the right. The rest of the castle/dungeon and a way out too, probably, as the warden's office was a dead end. The rumbling of the siege weapons continues, joined by another sound on the edge of hearing, an irregular sharp, cracking sound, high pitched.

There is a large chest near the staircase, by the guard post, unlocked. In it, you find, if not the gear you had confiscated on arrest, then serviceable alternatives.

The guards themselves are nowhere to be seen, but the steady clomping of boots from the stairwell suggests one might have been sent to assess the damage caused by the attack that freed you.

[Should anyone wish they can make a stealth (agility) roll to hide, with 1 boon for the relative darkness. If you have a relevant profession you can have another boon
Guard's perception roll

24. Oh dear.]
 
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Ruin

Ruin has just pulled on a striking dark green cloak when they hear the footsteps approach. For a large clockwork automaton they move with a surprising deftness, crouching down into a hiding space without a word, the cloak draping over their metallic frame and helping them blend into dank stonework. They pull a wicked-looking garrote taut between their hands, waiting. Their key is still faintly audible under the cloak, however...

8 on the Stealth roll, even with 2 Boons.
 
Retch

Retch grabs his kit from the chest, once his hands are free. As he's stuffing some damp jerky up his nose he hears the guard descending the stairs. With a muted cackle he readies his garrotte and hides behind the door, releasing a particularly putrescent pocket of flatus as he does so.

[9 on the Stealth roll]
 
Runt

The heavy chains on the orc's wrists catch on the lid of the chest as he raises his hands to fasten a heavy iron triquetra around his neck, flipping the chest and sending it crashing to the floor. So much for stealth. Snarling, he grabs a battered shield from the mess and hefts the chain free, spinning to face the stairs.
 
Orm

Though not enough to go unnoticed by the guard, but the nine-foot-tall giant shows the most adeptness at lurking back into the darker hall, almost looking part of the wall due to his seal-gray skin. Just another column on the wall until he let's out a wheezing cough.

14 on roll.
 
You are not waiting long.

Down the stairs come two guards. Maybe the same ones that dragged you to torment, maybe not, they are impossible to tell apart, wrapped head to toe in dark cloth, never speaking.

On reaching the bottom, they pause. There's a... clicking sound that puts one in mind of a dozen fighters cracking their knuckles. You're not sure how they even see with all that cloth over their faces, but in unison they draw sword and shield and assume a defensive formation, stance low, sword tips resting on shields held outwards, ready to jab at any attackers. Clearly your plans of ambush are foiled.

[Combat! There is no initiative. Combat is Fast Turns, followed by Slow Turns. Choose which. A Fast Turn lets you move or attack, not both (exception is a charge, which lets you attack with 1 bane), a Slow Turn lets you move and attack. In each phase, players always go first

Both guards have armour class 13, roll that or more to connect.]
 
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Runt

Looks like we'll have to kill the guards. What a terrible shame. Runt swings the chain in his right hand at the nearest guard's head, using the shield in his left to counter-weight the swing. The satisfying crunch as the heavy metal meets cloth-wrapped skull warms Runt's nasty little heart.

https://rolz.org/embed?X36529513
18 to hit
https://rolz.org/embed?X36529577
5+1, so 6 damage
 
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Ruin

Seeing the element of surprise is lost, Ruin flicks the garrote so it wraps itself around their wrist and snatches up the stout oak staff they recovered from the lockup. Taking advantage of superior range, they jab the iron-banded heel of the staff savagely into the injured guard's chest.



Damage!

4 points of damage!

They smile as the blow connects satisfyingly.
 
@Ragoza @Chaka

Plumes of dry old dust rise from the cloth wrappings as your blows each break bone with a crunch. In the gloom, a sickly purple glow can be seen peeking out from between the dislodged or damaged sections of wrapping. The injured guard seems unperturbed, resumes his (or her?) stance, and clicks loudly at you like some giant, irritated cricket.


[they are clearly not entirely natural, but not severely off-putting, so no will rolls. Continue with fast turns!
Guard 1- uninjured
Guard 2- 10pts damage]
 
Orm

"Always something." A guillotine-swift axehead comes hooping out of the dark between the Clock and Orc right into the thing's forehead. Orm's eyes are already fixed on the other one. "Never was fond of dead things thinkin' they can lollygag about like people." Clearing his throat, the jotun spits a wad of phlegm at the other guard's shield; all the while wrenching his axe out of the first one.



Damage!
 
The axe bites deep into the thing's skull, splitting the wrappings and spilling purple light out of each layer. It collapses in a dusty heap, the purple light blasting out almost like steam until it dissipates, leaving nothing but old bone and old cloth.

The second guard, unperturbed, clicks and charges the orc. It makes expert use of the shield to keep the chain at bay, and slashes its blade at Runt's gut, cutting painfully.

Then, it steps back, shield up once more. Like a trained fighter.


Fast Turn phase over, time for Slow Turns.


 
Retch

Retch realises that the ambush has been foiled almost immediately, but remains crouched behind the door while his companions make short work of the being in the doorway. When the remaining guard charges Runt, Retch, ever the opportunist, senses the chance for a secondary ambush. He draws the bone knife from his belt and, suppressing a cackle before it can bubble up his throat, slips out from behind the door, surprisingly stealthily. He skitters up behind the wrapped figure, adjusts his now clammy grip, and stabs upwards, through the kidney and into the liver.


 
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RELICT

Disappointing - undead don't flee, don't have eyes or other convenient ways to switch them off. Relict consoles himself by trying to tear off an arm, but it's too well attached even for his inhuman strength.
 
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You could all swear there was mirth in the stance of the thing as it absorbs or blocks the attacks. With a dry hiss, like the wheezing of a cracked bellows, it bangs its sword on its shield and advances.
 
Ruin

Ruin cocks his head slightly as the undead guard collapses into a pile of rags and dusty bones.

"Shoddy workmanship. Inferior materials."

He switches his grip on his staff, going for an overhead strike that whistles down to connect with the guard's shrouded skull.



The guard moves with surprising alacrity, catching the staff on the rim of its shield.
 
Orm

There are wars less hectic than this melee. Crying challenge, the jotun chopped at the collarbone of the mummy-warrior after the clockwork bat at its shield. The lightness of the woodman's axe still confounds him, but a blade is a blade. It bit deep like a wolverine.



 
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