2017-05-26: Flight of the Jailbirds

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  • Log: Flight of the Jailbirds
  • Cast: Cassidy Cain, Jude Moshe, Noah Hawthorne, Morgan Newkirk
  • Where: Castle Adlehyde
  • Date: May 27, 2017
  • Summary: Castle Adlehyde gets attacked by persons and creatures unknown, causing its very bowels to shake. Unsure as to whether to stay in this position, no matter how fortified, Cassidy reluctantly follows the rest of her party to break out of the dungeons, leading into a dangerous encounter with a Metal Demon. Shenanigans, explosions and cuccoo-throwing ensue.
<CARD DRAW>

++++++++++++++++++ <* CHALLENGE - Forgot Your Keys *>++++++++++++++++++
|Type: Entry |Dungeon Ability: Wits |Challenge Rating: 2 |
+++++++++++++++++++++ < Challenge Information: >+++++++++++++++++++++
It has been a quiet day inside of Adlehyde Castle's dungeon. As far as dungeons go, there are worse ones to be in. The food is serviceable. The cells, while private, have a toilet and other necessities. The real challenge is solitude -- and waiting for a trial (or to discover King Justin's reputation for being just is but a lie).

Until, of course, the ground shakes mightily. They don't know why, yet, of course. But the impact rumbles through the entire ground... and then causes the doors to their cells to swing open at once. Their reunion, however, is complicated by one fact: the door to this block of cells has not opened. The key to it sits on a table on the other side of a row of steel bars.

And ten feet away.
+dungeon Conditions: Bad Luck++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

DG: Cassidy Cain has contributed a Wits Basic Action toward her party's challenge, Forgot Your Keys.
DG: Noah Hawthorne has contributed a Wits Basic Action toward his party's challenge, Forgot Your Keys.
DG: Morgan Newkirk has contributed a Wits Basic Action toward his party's challenge, Forgot Your Keys.
DG: Jude Moshe has used his Tool Jacob toward his party's challenge, Forgot Your Keys.
DG: The party led by Cassidy Cain has passed this challenge! The party gained 11 exploration! If anyone needs to use party management commands, do so now. Otherwise, the next round's GM may begin the next round with +dungeon/draw. 

<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

From a distance, the fiery shower from the night before looked very much like meteorites falling from the sky, trails of cosmic dust left behind before vanishing into the darkened horizons of the evening. The hours that followed after were largely spent in silence, save for a few bits of conversation now and then from the prisoners. Their party appears to be the only one in the cells, Adlehyde being a relatively peaceful city for a capital most days, but members of said party have been around similar circumstances often enough that each and every single one of them know that the more they talk, the more the authorities can use, and it was the most prudent course of action to keep exchanges at a minimal.

But boredom eventually takes its toll, and bit by bit, the prudent course of action falls on the wayside. It was never Cass' way not to pick the fun option in anything, even if it was just exchanging stories to pass the time. There were plenty of words from her; past adventures embelished for dramatic and hilarious effect, banter with the rest, philosophical, but ultimately nonsensical musings (e.g. "Why do signs that say SLOW CHILDREN always have a picture of a running child? That dinnae look too slow tae me" for instance, after she suddenly remembered an old visit to Aquvy where automobiles rushed through the roads regularly) that would put to shame someone who was actually either inebriated off his ass, or as high as a Kislevi pine.

The walls are thick and the bars are sturdy, made out of thick iron. While the pair of guards that stand watch over the single hallway lined by cells have barely reacted to the conversations in this avenue of the damned (or temporarily displaced), a few rotations have gotten increasingly annoyed.

That could be the plan, though whether the plan is to simply annoy their captors or if there is a bigger play afoot, it's tough to say.

While discipline levels among King Justin's Royal Guard are rather high, it was inevitable that they would eventually come across a few who don't rise up to the baseline standard. The breaking point certainly arrives when, on top of everything, Cassidy decides to sing, her low, languid and surprisingly well-trained contralto filling the small hallway, having had the misfortune of having been placed at the very back, and well away from the view of the rest.

~Why did Love put a gun in my hand...?
Why did Love put a gun in my hand?
Why did love put a gun in my hand?
In my bed, in my head, in my hand...~

"Oh, dear God, that's it."

The younger of the pair of guards pivots around, slamming the cellblock's door shut behind him, harried steps taking him to the very back as the jailhouse Blues start to invade his shift. Dark eyes eyeball the blonde conwoman, still dressed in her pilfered uniform, sitting by the bars with her head lolled against the wall and fingers draped over a bent knee, lashes draped heavily over her glade-green eyes. She doesn't seem to notice the carrot-topped guard glowering at her, nevermind that his shadow cuts across her form, blocking most of the light from the torches.

~Was it for redemption?
Was it for revenge?
Was it for the bottle?
Was it for the ledge...?~

CLANG CLANG CLANG. The rifle rattles brutally over the bars to catch the woman's attention. "Three shifts," he exclaims. "I've been here three shifts! If it's not y'all's dirty jokes, it's your stupid questions, and if it's not your stupid questions, it's just noise. Noise all the god damn time. And now this?! You're behind bars. The Chamberlain can decide to hang you for treason! I'd expect some remorse or quiet reflection of whatever crimes you were intending to commit in the castle, but no! Don't you ever sleep?! I've never heard a single human being talk so much in my entire goddamn life, what is wrong with you?!"

Cassidy pauses.

"...well, if you like, I do take requests."

"NO, I DON'T WANT A REQUEST."

"I can even personalize one if you like," the thief continues. "Your name's Cletus, right?"

"How did you even-- "

"There once was a man named Cletus, who was cursed with a wee, bonny-- "

A gloved hand snakes through the bars, snagging Cassidy around the collar and bodily dragging her into the unforgiving wrought-iron boundary, the violent slam rattling her cell door as her cheek and skull grind into it. It forces one eye shut; she doesn't utter a sound - there is no cry of pain, no shriek of outrage. No choking, gurgling noises from where the fist tightens into her collar and cuts viciously into her windpipe.

"Careful there, killer," she murmurs hoarsely, one open eye glittering at the guard - the mischievous tone is gone, replaced by an infinitely darker edge, a subtler undercurrent to her normally lighthearted brogue. "These pearls are verra expensive."

Before Cletus says anything, their entire world suddenly shakes. Debris falls in a dusty cascade from between foundation rock and the brewing altercation ceases entirely when it triggers all the switches in the cellblock. Barred doors swing outward and suddenly, just like that, they're all free - either a testament to the strange, twisted Luck that's rumored to blanket Cassidy in its whims, or something else.

"What the f-- "

A hand twines around the guard's collar. Bracing one foot against the bars, Cassidy suddenly lurches back and slams Cletus' forehead into them. As the younger man slides unconscious on the ground, the blonde extricates herself from his limp grip, kicking the door the rest of the way out and taking a step into the narrow hall. Wary eyes tilt upwards towards the ceiling.

"While I'm glad tae have some semblance of freedom, again, I dinnae know if I actually want tae know what that was about," she tells the rest, lifting a hand to readjust her collar, and rub at her throat. 

<Pose Tracker> Morgan Newkirk has posed.

"Oh come on Cletus, she's got a good voice. Don't hold it against her." Comes the call from a cell across the way. If the guards there were expecting anything even remotly resembling remorse or even decorum from Morgan Newkirk, they had a long time to wait. He had in his short time here asked the guards if any of them had sisters or lonely wives. Asked the few women there when they got off shift and in general made an entire nusince of himself.

He seemed to be sleeping when Celtus started his screaming and banging. One eye cracking slowly as the fox streches out arms and legs gone stiff from idleness.

The shaking though causes him to awaken fully though, both eyes snapping open as he glances up at the ceiling. "Huh. Sounds like its startin'."

Then the doors are opening with a bang and the fox ambles his way to his feet just to see Cass knock the guard right out.

Sigh.

"Ya could have asked him for the keys first, darlin'." He drawls before walking over towards the door. A clear of his throat.

Then...

"OH MY GOD THE PRISONERS ARE ESCAPING HELP!" His voice a close aproximation for a panicked Cletus.

The door flies open as the second sentry bangs the door open, spear lowered and ready. Only to find that long weapon grabbed as Morgan steps out from behind the door.

"Evenin'." Says the fox cheerfully before delivering a decisive right hook to the older of the two guards to send him down.

Grabbing the falling bodys to pull him out of the door and into the cellblock the fox looks over his shoulder. "Well," This towards Cassidy. "Ya can always stay here if'n ya like." 

<Pose Tracker> Noah Hawthorne has posed.

If nothing else, their time in the dungeon of Adlehyde is proof that Noah is capable of keeping his mouth shut for long stretches of time. He doesn't say a word after they're unceremoniously dumped each to a cell, nor does he produce much in the way of sound through movement, no rasping of cloth to suggest restlessness.

He is, though. Restless. Cages don't suit many people, but Noah in particular chafes at the prospect of being contained and controlled in ways that run right down to the marrow in his bones and the blood in his veins. It's a sensation that makes his skin crawl and his jaw tight. It isn't helped by the fact that they've done something potentially momentous and have no way of knowing whether or not it will matter -- and no way to find out if it did after the fact, for as long as they're down there. No way to know if the plans he'd set into motion, and Morgan had improved-upon, are still being assiduously carried out by all parties involved without his watchful eye on the task. To say nothing, of course, of the legal predicament they may be in...such as it is. Such as law is, at any rate.

He bides his time with his upper back against the stone wall, head tilted back into it and eyes closed, forearms on knees, the rest of him...elsewhere. Wandering corridors of memory. Thinking about anything, everything, but being trapped in a small stone box.

And then...

The first impact passes like a shock through the shell of the castle walls. His eyes fly open and he's on his feet in a moment, joints and muscles complaining about their overnight disuse. To spin, to face the embrasure window slotted into the wall, and look out to find the sky lit with a false dawn. Massive embers streak contrails of dark smoke as they materialize from the vault of the heavens and slash downward through the atmosphere, wrapped in gossamer flames as they ignite the air with their velocity. A backwash of light in the red and copper hues of any hell he might care to believe in paints his face, goes to war with the brighter greens of his irises to leave them colorless -- much like the flecks of ash that will soon begin to fall.

Behind him the cell doors bang noisily open and the background racket that Cassidy has been making changes, then fades, but all Noah has eyes for are the opening strains of a symphony of destruction.

It didn't matter at all. 

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

Tap tap taptaptap tap tap tap.

taptaptap tap taptap tap

t-tap t-t-t-tap

The sound of knuckles rapping across metal fills the air of the prison, an accompaniment that complements the songs that fill the air beautifully. Against the bars of his cell, Jude Moshe leans comfortably -- it's one of many various, lazy positions he's been adopting since coming here, most of them wholly indifferent or unconcerned for the plight he currently faces himself with. Perhaps he has a plan.

Or perhaps, more simply, he's just not bothered by where he finds himself right now.

After all, he's too focused on getting the rhythm to Cassidy's song just right as he beats it against the iron bars behind him. Amber eyes shut. An easy, friendly smile drifts its lazy path across his lips.

"Hey, c'mon," he chides the guard as he starts to get mouthy, "I'm trying to concentrate. You know how hard it is keeping up with her?"

There is the sound of someone being gripped, slammed against the cellar door. One amber eye cracks open, to peer at Cassidy as she is roughly dragged up against cool iron in so violent a fashion... and down it dips, towards her neck, and the pearls resting there beneath the collar as her entire tone changes. That friendly expression tempers slightly as Jude's gaze turns downward. His lips part--

-- and then the entire castle shakes as if gripped by a very shift in the earth itself. Jude lurches forward fluidly, that lackidaisical stance making him go with the violent rumble as it rocks through the prison wing, stumbling forward towards the door -- just as Cassidy knocks the guard clean out. All of it ends with Jude, stumbling out the open door with perfect timing, looking around himself with a mild, surprised blink.

"Huh," he utters, rubbing the back of his head. "I wonder if that was universal justice at work. I mean, she did warn you about the pearls, kid." He looks down towards Cletus. Tilts his head.

"Ah well. Bye, Cletus," he offers, stepping over the guard as he goes. If he kicks the man in the ribs as he passes, well.

That's probably an unfortunate accident from the poor, graceless reporter.

And so they continue on. The redhead sees fit to accept this as it is, hands locking behind the back of his head as Morgan lures the last guard in to cold cock him. This one, he steps over cleaning, loosing a little whistle as he goes.

"Maybe it's calvalry, come to save us," Jude suggests, in a way that says he doesn't even remotely believe it. "But I'd rather not find out for myself. C'mon. Let's get going."

And as Jude speaks, a little glint of steel can be seen sweeping into the room. Jacob, the only competent member of the team, flies in soon after, having hid himself away within the guard's room. The automaton lands on Jude's shoulder, and in its beak? A rung of keys, gamely and casually plucked up by the red-headed reporter. "This oughta cover us. Good work, Jacob. You find our gear?"

A little chirp, and off the bird flies once more -- as if to pave the way for them to find whatever equipment they may have had confiscated. 

<CARD DRAW>

++++++++++++++++++ <* CHALLENGE - Anti-Riot Bulkhead *>++++++++++++++++++
|Type: Exploration |Dungeon Ability: Brute |Challenge Rating: 2 |
++++++++++++++++++++++ < Challenge Information: >++++++++++++++++++++++
As you run along, a massive steel wall just slams into the ground before you. A prison is only as good as its anti-escape mechanisms, and this one is nefarious. The solid steel wall cuts off the way ahead -- and you hear shouts behind you. You need to find a way through it, and fast.
+dungeon Conditions: Tire++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++---

DG: Cassidy Cain has used her Tool Heavy Grenade toward her party's challenge, Anti-Riot Bulkhead.
DG: Morgan Newkirk has contributed a Brute Basic Action toward his party's challenge, Anti-Riot Bulkhead.
DG: Noah Hawthorne has contributed a Brute Basic Action toward his party's challenge, Anti-Riot Bulkhead.
DG: Jude Moshe has used his Tool Demolition Shell toward his party's challenge, Anti-Riot Bulkhead.
DG: The party led by Cassidy Cain has passed this challenge! The party gained 11 exploration! If anyone needs to use party management commands, do so now. Otherwise, the next round's GM may begin the next round with +dungeon/draw. 

<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

Cassidy stops by Jude once he spills out of his cell, her hand lowering from her neck. "Nae seen Jake anywhere," she tells him. "Would he know where we are?" She doesn't even blink when the red-haired reporter accidentally kicks the unconscious guard in the ribs, standing over the prone body as she is when it happens, but she does flash him a quick and easy smile. "Ah, well, wee lads these days, y'ken. Dinnae listen tae their elders."

Morgan's chastisement about the keys has her looking over at him, lifting her shoulders in a slight shrug, that smile lingering on the corners. "Maybe I'm feeling optimistic today, luv," she tells him gamely, in seemingly good spirits in spite of the worrisome noises occurring above them. "Tae think that we dinnae need anything but our wits, moxie and the sheer disaster we bring tae the table whenever shite needs doing. Besides, I like our..."

Noah's stare catches her attention. Pausing in her tracks, her eyes gravitate to the outside world waiting for them beyond the relic-hunter's window. Her expression suddenly empties; for just a moment or two, she stares at the rapidly spreading blaze, the tetonic rumbling having ceased just enough for her to hear the distant sounds of fighting. Everywhere. Suddenly, staying in the dungeons doesn't seem so bad.

But at the rate things seem to be going, they also risk being crushed if the castle decides not to stand anymore and collapse around their heads, and that would be counterproductive as to why she orchestrated events to keep them all down here in the first place. Her lips curl faintly in a quiet 'tch', before she spins around just in time to watch the Beastman dispatch the other guard in the span of mere seconds, and Jude calling out for the missing Jacob.

"C'mon, luv," she tells Noah. "Dinnae want tae be sitting ducks here either, ay? We'll nae be good tae anyone if dead."

With that, she steps out, moving towards the doors just as Jacob lands on Jude's shoulder, keys dangling from his beak. "A sight for sore eyes, Jake," she tells the automaton, nevermind that it's not really alive. A hand relieves the mechanical bird of its new burden, rolling a gentle fingertip over its metallic crest. "Maybe you are trying tae show up your owner."

She winks at the redhead at that, before she fits the key into the latch and heads out, legs quickly adopting a sprint. "Step lively, lads!"

The blonde thief takes off like a bullet; fleet-footed and agile, when given the proper motivation to run, she can move, dashing up the steps leading up towards the castle proper and towards, hopefully, the safety of its walls without having to worry about getting crushed to death should the castle fall. However, she hears a telltale click and she reacts just as quickly, throwing out an arm and calling out a warning as she puts on the proverbial brakes - enough to indicate that the woman's probably been through plenty of jailbreaks in the past, if she already knows what she's expecting as far as anti-escape mechanisms are concerned. The anti-riot door slams into place.

She exhales a breath, before she reaches up and undoes the series of serviceable rolls her hair has been done up in, perfect to sit underneath a uniform cap...and to hide a handful of small incendiary devices. She never puts her hair up, unless she's in disguise, and usually she does so specifically so she can smuggle her beloved grenades anywhere. Ripping off the adhesive backs with her teeth, she tosses up a few - not at the steel door itself, as they're made to withstand sieges....but at the stone wall right next to it.

"Hope these are enough, dinnae want tae blow my entire stash." 

<Pose Tracker> Morgan Newkirk has posed.

"Just where are ya hidin' the rest I wonder," Morgan's teasing tone comes as he pulls out the weapons with a smirk as he glances back down the tunnel towards the sounds of the approaching guards. His long loping strides at least managed to catch up with the explosive-happy hellion.

A smirk towards Jude then as he catches sight of the man and his bird. "Glad the competant one showed up." He adds with a grin about the bird as he reaches over to a lock-up near the wall. Which...is...well. Locked up.

One quick boot fixes that as he pulls the cabinet open to start pulling out gear. Their gear. Other peoples gear. He's not really picky at this second. Espicially since he doesn't have his ARM at the moment. "Anyone see a weapon locker?" He asks as he looks towards the bunker door that Cass is now wiring to blow.

A tilt of his head before he reaches into the shattered case to pull out a quartet of metal bowls and some duct tape. Over each of the greanates goes one of the plates before he fastens it to the wall with copious amounts of tape.

A nod then.

"There that should get us though." He adds half-to himself before glancing behind again to see.

"Hawthorne? You alright back there? I don't think those nice guards are gonna take kindly to us takin advantage of the chaos." His words are light, but the look on his face holds more than a touch of concern. Its not like Noah to be that quiet. 


<Pose Tracker> Noah Hawthorne has posed.

Seams of fire rake red claw marks over the dark pools of Noah's pupils. For him those moments are, and are not about the deadly cataclysm -- they were right about that -- happening in front of him. It looks as though the stars are falling, and as awe-inducing as that is, what he's seeing in his mind's eye is the little grocer's up the block from his hotel where he's been buying bread and other victuals in the mornings, and the plain-looking girl who works there and turns beet red when he makes passes at her that he knows for a certainty she'd never return. He sees the dice game he'd discovered in a side alley near the Starfall Saloon, the rough-shod street kids who'd gather there and play, only just beginning to trust the older interloper from somewhere out west enough that he could sit and listen to them tell stories about all of the people they'd stolen from that day. One of them, he thinks, kept frogs. He sees the fields stretching out under a sun that seemed more hospitable for the way the ground wasn't baked down into dirt yet, and how fine Shan's coat looked against all of that green, drowsing and cropping grass -- a rare luxury for an animal from the Badlands.

And the fire. The fire falling from the sky.

All of that is visible for just the barest splinter of a moment when Cass tells him to get moving, and he turns his head to look at her. Just a fraction of a heartbeat, really, containing inexplicable loss, and then he short-nods and turns to rejoin them all in the hall beyond the cells. When he gets there Jacob the wonder-bird is telling them that, yes, it knows where their gear is stashed, and by that time he's schooled his expression into some tighter semblance of normalcy -- so the quirk of the lips for Morgan and nod are believable, though it never really gets purchase in his eyes.

And then they're moving, and it doesn't matter. Moving quickly, in fact. When they come to the next barrier and the grenades come out, he knows what to do: turns around, opens his mouth, and covers his ears to avoid soaking any more damage from the grenades than necessary in such a confined space. 


<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

Amber eyes watch Cassidy for a quiet moment, but when she turns that winking amusement upon him, Jude is quick to smile that helplessly lopsided smile of his, shoulders lifting and hands raising into the air. The bird tilts its head into that attentive finger, as if somehow the mechanical creature was preening. Somehow.

"What can I say? He does most of the heavy lifting, if I'm being completely honest. I just swoop in to take the credit," he says, voice utterly resigned to his sorry fate as the sidekick of an avian automaton.

The keys delivered, Jacob is quick to scout out their supplies; Jude follows along from the back, the sound of cannon fire, of screams and acrid smell of wafting smoke seeming to have little effect on that indifferently golden stare. His red brows simply furrow inward as he looks back towards the glimpses of the thundering skies beyond, the rumbles growing ever-more insistent as the others get their gear.

"Damn. Whatever they are, they're already pushing into the castle. The guards here aren't ready for a war -- we don't have a lot of time here." No lamentations. No lingering sadness for the lost that are doubtlessly growing by the second. The growing scar that what was once a home is rapidly becoming.

Just business.

It's an easy stare that falls briefly on Noah with the weight of its mild curiosity before Jude swiftly picks up his gear -- mainly, that large shotgun of an ARM. Slinging it over his shoulder, Jacob leaps from its perch and flies ahead of the group to scout the way ahead. Jude takes up the rear, his pace quickening to keep up with the others; he only comes to a stop, rubber soles skidding against stone floors, as he sees that heavy bunker door beyond. He looks Cassidy's way -- and smiles a little smile as she unfurls those hidden grenades.

"Let me give you a little helping hand there--" he says, ARM pointed towards the stone wall Cassidy's grenades are tossed at. The weapon whines, glows bright orange -- and that demolition shell spits out, embedding into stone before EXPLODING violently alongside each of those grenades in a burst of rubble and dust.

"Let's keep moving, I'm not a fan of increasingly ominous rumbling!" 

<CARD DRAW>

++++++++++++++++++++++++ <* CHALLENGE - A Narrow Gap *>++++++++++++++++++++++++
|Type: Exploration |Dungeon Ability: Agility |Challenge Rating: 1 |
++++++++++++++++++++++++++ < Challenge Information: >++++++++++++++++++++++++++
As you make your escape, you notice a place where a maintenance shaft has been cut through the prison. The door to it is locked, but one of the quakes that shot through the dungeon's levels has shaken the doorframe loose. With some nimble movement, you can squeeze through -- but you want to be quick about it, because if you get stuck, you would have guards on you. But, taking this would be quite a shortcut.
+dungeon Conditions: Treasure++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

DG: Morgan Newkirk has used his Tool Force Lash toward his party's challenge, A Narrow Gap.
DG: Cassidy Cain has contributed a Agility Basic Action toward her party's challenge, A Narrow Gap.
DG: Noah Hawthorne has contributed a Agility Basic Action toward his party's challenge, A Narrow Gap.
DG: Jude Moshe has contributed a Agility Basic Action toward his party's challenge, A Narrow Gap.
DG: You fail the challenge, and take 11 Exhaustion! You have 20 total Exhaustion.
DG: The party led by Cassidy Cain has failed this challenge! The party gained 22 exploration! If anyone needs to use party management commands, do so now. Otherwise, the next round's GM may begin the next round with +dungeon/draw.

++++++++++ <* CHALLENGE - Overly Complicated Locking Mechanism *>++++++++++
|Type: Exploration |Dungeon Ability: Wits |Challenge Rating: 1 |
+++++++++++++++++++++ < Challenge Information: >++++++++++++++++++++++
The hallway that you find yourself in is long and narrow. While it angles down, slightly, and doesn't lead to anymore cells -- at least, not yet -- it has a huge steel door in the middle. The door has slid shut, with a turning wheel lock on it. Multiple spokes, gears, and shafts make this quite complex. A wheel allows for a combination to be entered.
+dungeon Conditions: Slow++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++---

DG: Morgan Newkirk has contributed a Wits Basic Action toward his party's challenge, Overly Complicated Locking Mechanism.
DG: Cassidy Cain has used her Tool Pocket Lighter toward her party's challenge, Overly Complicated Locking Mechanism.
DG: Jude Moshe has used his Tool Jacob toward his party's challenge, Overly Complicated Locking Mechanism.
DG: Noah Hawthorne has contributed a Wits Basic Action toward his party's challenge, Overly Complicated Locking Mechanism.
DG: The party led by Cassidy Cain has passed this challenge! The party gained 12 exploration! If anyone needs to use party management commands, do so now. Otherwise, the next round's GM may begin the next round with +dungeon/draw. 

<Pose Tracker> Noah Hawthorne has posed.

Noah doesn't have his ARMs. He tends to leave them somewhere safe when he's doing something that might land him in a situation where putting them to use may not be enough to save his hide, because the last thing he needs is for somebody to walk off with them...and maybe for a couple of other reasons, too. Instead it's a pair of simple revolvers that he stashed in the crate of fruit with the false bottom, and he slings these around his hips, retrieves the little leather palette of tools they took from him after patting him down and shoves those into his pockets, and fastens the sheath of the knife to his belt. The speed with which he rearms himself wouldn't shame a soldier being scrambled by a call to arms, and maybe in all of that fuss he fails to feel the weight of curious golden eyes on him.

There's plenty of chaos after that, anyhow, and Jude and Cassidy take point in reducing the wall to the kind of rubble they're able to negotiate, bypassing the riot door altogether. Sorry, castle engineers. Better luck next time.

Beyond that door is another long hall, and...another door.

A vault door.

There's also a crack in the wall. Seismic distress has caused the foundations to warp in one place, jagged edges framing a wedge of space that seems to promise an expedient means to escape...

As long as a body isn't the size of Noah's, or Jude's, or presumably Morgan's but he doesn't have a wiki page because he's a goddamn slacker so I have no idea and you can just edit this crap out of the log but jesus christ morgan get your shit together.

Cassidy might make it through...

Noah just looks at it with knitted brows, and even without trying to wedge himself into it he can feel the bite of dislodged bricks into his shoulders.

"Well, Cassie," he says, glancing down the hall toward the vault door and speaking up for the first time in over twenty-four hours, "Looks like you're gonna get to try your hand on some pre-Carbuncle safe-cracking practice." 

<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

Just where are you hiding the rest, I wonder?

"The corset," she replies to Morgan, brazenly and shamelessly, though with the way her eyes burn with mischief, it's a toss-up as to whether she's being honest. "All snug and secure. Might need tae strip if we need any more."

As Jude steps up to the plate with Lucille (the shotgun, she honestly doesn't know whether that's its name but she privately refers to it as such), its string of runes glowing orange and promising a swift and inevitable end to centuries' worth of stone masonry and engineering, Cassidy takes a step out of the way in order to retrieve her own gear. Unlike Noah and much like Jude, she brought both her pistols and the revolver gifted to her by Noah - either she really is as reckless as they say, that she would chance not ever reclaiming her ARMs ever again, or she is simply that confident in her ability to retrieve them no matter her situation. Either way, she slings her holsters back along her hips, and stuffs the beautiful, engraved firearm into the small of her back.

She turns just in time to watch the redhaired reporter's slug explode into her grenades, leaving a gaping alternative door next to the one meant to keep them in. A look is cast Jude's way, equal parts flirtation and unrepentant affection, if not just because the man, for all intents and purposes, enables her liberal use of grenades every chance he gets. "Ach, luv," she says, placing a hand over her heart with all the dramatic pomp only a seasoned actress can bring to bear. "You really do complete me."

With that, she's pushing through the newly-made opening, to rush down the corridor. Like Noah, she slows at the crack, and squints at it, then looks at the men she's with. "You know, I always meant tae ask this," she says, twisting on her heel to keep moving again. "But what in the bloody hell do you three eat every day? I mean...how many milk cows do you drain dry tae get that tall and broad-shouldered? I'm nae complaining, mind, but the last few adventures in which we can beat a hasty retreat in cramped spaces, a lass is starting tae wonder, y'ken."

When they stop at the vault door, the conwoman looks over at the wheel lock. Reaching into her boot, she pulls out her lighter, the sapphire eyes of its engraved ouroboros decal glinting faintly at the surrounding torchlight. A thumb strokes thoughtfully, lovingly over the silver plate, an absent smile directed down on it - brief and fleeting.

"Ay, well, remember you owe me that someday," she tells Noah, lifting her head and flicking the flint until a single tongue of flame erupts from the top. Striding over to the combination lock, she squints carefully at it, before taking a knee and pressing her ear close to where the latches would be, closing her eyes. Curling her fingers loosely, lips lift in an almost dreamy smile, tapping her knuckles occasionally and hearing the way it echoes through steel.

"Tricky," she murmurs, her fingers scaling up and up...until an index depresses a hidden panel in the plate, feeling the springs give enough that she's able to push it sideways, revealing a small lock. "Needs a combination and a key tae bypass the clockwork timer inside once someone starts spinning the dial - handy safecracker's trap, that, since these usually take some time tae break." There's a glance towards Jude and Jacob. "I'll need Jake for this, luv."

She blows at her fingers. "Mm. Nae got a drill, neither. I'm going tae have tae do this by touch." With that, pressing her ear closer to the combination lock, she spins the dial carefully. "Quiet, if you please, lads."

Click-click-click.
Click-click-click.

Deep within steel, she hears the tumblers shift and move, and the timer's tick-tick-ticks. 

<Pose Tracker> Morgan Newkirk has posed.

Morgan coughs as the rush of the explosives gusts over them. A smirk though as the wall is reduced to dust and splinters as he moves forward. The hallway, long and sloping leaves little in the way of cover though as he glances behind them.

His ears twist this way and that as he tries to figure out how far away the guards are. The few gunsmoke ARMS he found the weapons locker as he checks the action and the ammo on the revolvers. Rolling the cylinder across his arm to test the action.

One ear ticks up slightly. "Surface to surface missiles of some sort I'm thinking. Its a bombardment. Kev should have gotten most of the people around the Saloon into the bunker by now. The'll be forting up there, if we can get out."

The second six-shooter is brought out, the smooth sound of the spinning cylinder framing his words. "Got messages to half the Guild members I could in short time. Just about quadrupled presense here. Just in time too."

A smirk then as his track if mind is entirely distracted by Cass. "Well here is ta hoping we need more." A beatpause. "But ya ruined it. The mystery is gone now. I'll have to think of something else to be curious about now." The banter helps as they move, keeping one eye back down the hallway. Attentive to any kind of guards poking their heads around. Not that he would kill them, but a few bullets in their general direction would encourage them to stay down.

He falls silent though as Cassidy starts to work. The faster she gets that done, the faster they can get back to the important buisiness of a jailbreak. 

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

Ach, luv. You really do complete me.

"Like two explosive peas in a very unfortunate pod," is Jude Moshe's effortlessly glib response, miming shooting Cassidy through the heart with perfect timing to the placement of her hands, with all the cheesey ease only a seasoned louse can bring to bear. Which is, of course, why he follows it up with,

"Don't know if that's really a good thing or not yet, but..."

With the most hapless of grins that says he knows exactly what it is.

Rubble blasted away, dust settling, Jude slings his ARM that may or may not be called Lucille over his shoulder; without his coat, he has no where to really store it, but he doesn't seem to complain about lugging the heavy thing around. After all, there is one silver lining to all of this incredibly bleak, incredibly shitty situation, and it is this:

There is no. Possible. Way. Jude's coat can get ruined now.

... He really hopes so, at least.

Stepping past the impromptu exit, brushing dusted stone off the once-pristine white of his chef's coat as he goes as if unwilling to let dirt get on even borrowed (stolen) clothes, the redheaded journalist scratches his head as he peers at that crack. Looks down at himself. Back to the crack. "... Maybe if I lost my spine I could wedge myself through there," he mutters with the incredulous furrow of his brows. His head shaking, he just rubs the back of his neck, whistling into the air as Cass makes ruminating observation.

"It's that home-grown Aquvy food," is Jude's easy explanation. "All those dragon fossils have to be good for something. I guess one of the things they're good for is engineering super cows." And he says this all so effortlessly, it's hard to say whether he's joking or entirely serious. "Who knew?"

Jacob returns, landing upon Jude's shoulder as he tucks his hands into his pocket; he's content to watch Cass make her way through before reaching that vault door, head tilting... before he snaps his fingers, and points the blonde thief's way. "Already on it, Cassie," Jude assures, and sure enough, Jacob doesn't need a second hint -- hopping from Jude's shoulder, the small automaton flits through that crack as easily as can be before making its way over to the keyhole. Finding a convenient place to perch with one leg, the other extends out -- and inserts that long, metallic talon within, to begin gingerly and dextrously picking the lock as Cassidy works the safe.

"So," Jude says leisurely two Morgan and Noah as the two work. "Pretty nice day for a sightseeing trip around Castle Adlehyde, right?"

As amicable as ever. 

<CARD DRAW>

++++++++++++++++ <* CHALLENGE - Weapon Storage Closet *>+++++++++++++++++
|Type: Exploration |Dungeon Ability: Brute |Challenge Rating: 1 |
++++++++++++++++++++++ < Challenge Information: >++++++++++++++++++++++
The guards here need weapons -- and with yours locked away, you do too. You come across an armored closet set in the wall, door sealed away, with a large lock over it. The key is nowhere to be seen. If you can smash through the armored door, though, you could find some gunsmoke ARMs and batons that could make do until you get your weapons back.
+dungeon Conditions: Treasure++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

DG: Morgan Newkirk has contributed a Brute Basic Action toward his party's challenge, Weapon Storage Closet.
DG: Jude Moshe has used his Tool Demolition Shell toward his party's challenge, Weapon Storage Closet.
DG: Noah Hawthorne has contributed a Brute Basic Action toward his party's challenge, Weapon Storage Closet.
DG: Cassidy Cain has contributed a Brute Basic Action toward her party's challenge, Weapon Storage Closet.
DG: The party led by Cassidy Cain has passed this challenge! The party gained 17 exploration! If anyone needs to use party management commands, do so now. Otherwise, the next round's GM may begin the next round with +dungeon/draw. 

<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

"Super cows? Ach, what would that even look like? Ten feet tall with massive udders, maybe blue milk?"

There is a final, resounding, thunderous click...before a series of cascading sounds emanate from deep within the steel fortress of the vault door. Cassidy takes a few steps away from it, drawing the revolver from the small of her back and pointing it towards the large metal construct just in case. Light pours from the growing crack as the metal slab swings outward, helplessly pulled by gravity's well, considering how heavy it is.

"...well," the blonde says, re-holstering her weapon and taking several steps inside, once she's assured that the coast is clear. "Will nae say nae tae more bullets."

Squinting at yet another thick door, she turns her eyes to the rest of the room, and on Jude's shotgun. Slowly, she takes a few steps away from the redhead.

"Well, big strapping lads such as yourselves can probably take this one easy, ay?" she wonders, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms over her chest to wait. 

<Pose Tracker> Noah Hawthorne has posed.

"You're the one that sank the boat," Noah murmurs in riposte to the suggestion that he owes Cassidy Cain anything. The kind of thing he'd say on any day, though on virtually any other day it would have been a more spirited exchange, probably followed up with some other remarks about the various inconveniences that unfolded during that first fateful meeting. Instead it's quiet, still dry, but distracted.

That could ostensibly be because he's leaning into the prop of his palm against the shattered wall above the place the wedge of a gap reaches its closed apex, his head tilted to listen for anyone with the same idea they had, but coming from the other direction.

Other things in a peculiar list of remarks that Noah doesn't respond to when he ordinarily would:

- Questions about how he, Jude, and Morgan got so goddamned big

- Adorably affectionate interactions between Cassidy and Jude after she swore up and down at him that she wasn't shacked up with anybody, though in hindsight it probably doesn't make much sense to trust anything a con says anyway

- Aquvian super-cows

- Tit-grenades

- The Adventurer's Guild, considering all of those plans he has with Morgan that may or may not actually be saving people's lives right now

- Sight-seeing in the Castle, because it would usually invite a long-winded rant about all of the many different and fascinating kinds of metal doors they've gotten to see in their natural habitats

- Massive udders

- Basically everything else.

Instead he holds his tongue and waits for Cassidy and Jacob the Wonder Bird to do whatever it is that they're going to do, or for the ceiling to collapse inward following the booming report of another heavy impact close to the feet of the castle.

When the door swings aside and the room beyond proves to be empty -- save an armored door leading into a weapons closet -- Noah joins the others in crossing the threshold and he's drawing one of the revolvers and just beginning to set the barrel over one of his wrists, aimed at the lock, when he catches Cassidy's glance at Jude's rune-marked shotgun. He hesitates, glances that way, and then drops the revolver back into his holster with a single-shouldered shrug. His shells, after all, are not explosive. 

<Pose Tracker> Morgan Newkirk has posed.

"Blue milk? Thats just crazy talk right there. Who would ever make blue milk." Morgan comments as he steps though the slowly yawning portal. His pistols scanning the hall before him even as he moves, ears twitching like a Gear's sensor array. Just waiting for the next horrible thing to pop out at them. "I mean really. Everyone knows super milk is more reddish and tastes like strawberries." His delivery is just offhand. As if that information is just one more little nothing he has picked up over the years.

In truth? HE REALLY MISSES STRAWBERRY MILK. Damn low-tech heathans.

Ahem.

"But yeah, Jude. I think this is a fantastic day fer it. I mean, think of all the giant metal doors we might of missed if we hadn't come this way. I'm sure it took months to build." A beatpause. "And seconds to blow up. Which is really how it is with most things." The fox's words are amused as he looks towards the door in question.

Its a large door really. Marked 'WEAPONS LOCKER' in big official looking lettering. 'NO UNAUTHORISED ADMISSION'

Under that in a smaller scrawled hand is 'This means you Cletus. Stop sneaking in to fondle the grenades!'
A second note under that. 'THEY NEEDED CLEANING'
A third under that 'Can we not use the words fondle and grenades in the same sentence?'

Morgan just peers at the notes for a second before he shakes his head. "The people here have problems." He mutters before once more kicking the lock. It doesn't really do anything but it makes him feel better.

Then he'll step back to make room for Jude.

"I'm out of ideas, care to authorize us there, Jude." A wicked grin comes to his face. Man. He loves it when they don't have to go quiet. 

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

"As big as those rankar dragons in the Lahan region and twice as ridiculous," Jude explains as matter-of-factly as ever. "People are really big on cows there. Was never really my bag, but I hear sometimes they decorate the prize cows to show 'em off. Fancy little accoutrements, or whatever, like, I dunno, rhinestones."

And this, too, he says without missing a beat.

"Udders as big as me or Noah over there, too. Maybe that's why."

Another explosion rocks the castle. Distantly, one could hear the sound of something collapsing upon the building from above -- parts of the castle toppling onto itself? It's unclear -- but it certainly inspires Jude to step a little more lively, moving from the vault doors towards...

... another set of doors. Jude squints.

"This feels like the box thing all over again," he observes, blithely, projecting his voice just so above the din of war shuddering the wall and loosing dirt from the ceiling above them. "But I guess we don't really have time to get into that--"

ARM unslung, Jude points it toward the door. He looks Cassidy's way, brows lifting, and then to Noah, and Morgan, brows edging up and up with every pass.

"Well..." The revolver chamber starts to spin of its own accord. Symbols glow bright orange as the barrel whines, magical energy funneling throughout the shotgun. The revolver locks into place. The barrel glows bright.

"... thanks for all the moral support. And cover your ears. Wouldn't want to get tinnitis."

His finger depresses the trigger.

"Huh. That Cletus lived a more sordid life than I gave him credit fo--"

BOOM

The shell screams with freedom, spiraling bright through the air and exploding violently to blow the door straight off its hinges and slam into the next room, billy clubs and rifles and grenades and a caged up cucco all flying free for the taking.

Probably don't take the cucco.

Just give it a wide berth. 

<CARD DRAW>

++++++++++++++++++++ <* CHALLENGE - The Keymaster *>++++++++++++++++++++
|Type: Exploration |Dungeon Ability: Combat |Challenge Rating: 2 |
++++++++++++++++++++++ < Challenge Information: >++++++++++++++++++++++
As you round the next corner, you find yourself in a guard's station. One of the commanders of the guards is here: a huge, muscled figure wearing a helm. The master key ring hangs from his belt. Unfortunately, an enormous double-headed whip hangs from his hand, and Symbology tattoos decorate his arms. He snaps the whip at you, before he bellows: "STOP RIGHT THERE!"
+dungeon Conditions: Treasure++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

DG: Cassidy Cain has contributed a Combat Basic Action toward her party's challenge, The Keymaster.
DG: Morgan Newkirk has used his Tool Shield Gauntlet toward his party's challenge, The Keymaster.
DG: Jude Moshe has contributed a Combat Basic Action toward his party's challenge, The Keymaster.
DG: Noah Hawthorne has used his Tool Clever Traps toward his party's challenge, The Keymaster. <br? DG: You have overcome the dungeon's trials! This run is a success!
DG: The party led by Cassidy Cain has successfully explored Adlehyde Dungeon Escape!

+++++++++++++++++++ <* CHALLENGE - A Narrow Escape *>+++++++++++++++++++
|Type: Discovery |Dungeon Ability: Discovery |Challenge Rating: 3 |
++++++++++++++++++++++ < Challenge Information: >++++++++++++++++++++++
The beast dispatched, one way or another, you have a moment to escape. Many of the guards have fled -- or are injured. There is a door leading out into the city. It has been broken and is half-ajar. When opened, you find something has gone terribly wrong. Flame rages across the city's roofs, spitting up black smoke. The acrid smell of smoke is joined by the sound of screams from the city. Another beast like the one you fought lopes past. 

What the hell happened here?

+dungeon Conditions: Treasure++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

The weapons fly. And as they do, Jude lets his weapon fall at his side, eyeing that cucco clucking its violent mantra.

He very wisely takes a step back and starts moving. Away from it.

"You guys can deal with that if you want. I've still got a healthy respect for how short my life can be."

With that, Jacob returns to Jude's shoulder, perching with a little chirp. He blinks, looks at the bird, and frowns. Without a word, he taps on the chest of the thing; back to the rest of them, it's hard to see just what he's doing, exactly, but eventually, that chest panel shuts again, and Jude just shakes his head. "... We better get a move on," he utters simply. "Things are getting worse out there."

And with that, the man walks off, finally, actually taking the lead for once. His free hand tucked into his coat pocket, he turns down the corner... and pauses.

"Uh."

Pauses, because they suddenly find themselves in a very spacious, very accomodating guard's station. Filled to the brim with Adlehyde knights and prison guards. And one man at the front, huge, possibly bigger than Noah and Jude but who knows about Morgan, in an uncertain state of quantum height as he is, covered from head to toe with Symbology runes like it was a full body sleeve, cracking a giant whip, eyes gleaming with bloody vengeance.

"You! STOP RIGHT THERE! You're the ones who beat up my poor brother aren't you?! Cletus never hurt a soul! Maybe some grenades but -- n-nevermind that! LISTEN UP. You're not gettin' any further. So says COOTER THE KEYMASTER--"

CHOOM

And right in the middle of Cooter the Keymaster's moment of destiny, something large and metal BLOWS through the western wall of the guard station. The guards are trampled; Cooter goes flying into a wall, flattening against it and toppling over bleeding profusely, his moment in the sun utterly denied by the creature that now stands before them:

A hulking, wolf-like beast with the head of an alligator. Except, upon a closer look, it has armored plates covering its body. Its claws are bladed, and its eyes flash with a red light -- because they are more like cameras than flesh.

Jude blinks.

"Well. Uh. ... Hey there, big fella. How's it going--"

The creature roars, and then lunges.

Claws extended and swiping like the blades of many, gleaming swords, carving an ugly path through Jude's chef's coat to leave a wide, bleeding scar across his chest as he topples back, firing that shotgun into the thing's eyes.

"Ghhh -- dammit -- so I guess this is punishment for me laughing at that whole cataclysm nonsense, huh--"

BOOM BOOM BOOM HE REALLY CAN'T FIRE THIS GUN HARD ENOUGH RIGHT NOW 

<Pose Tracker> Morgan Newkirk has posed.

"Don't mind if I do!" The fox grins wickedly as he steps inside to peruse the equipment there. There is a pair of short barreled shotguns that he grabs for over-the-shoulder holsters. A larger rifle is picked up, just to make sure of things. A satchel of explosives just in case they meet any more doors that mouth off at them.

The Cucco though is given an odd look. "...ya know. I feel kinda bad leaving the feathered devil here." He admits. "He looks like he's a fighter."

The bird glaes balefully at the fox.

You know. That 'COME AT ME BRO' look.

Finally he decides to leave it there for now, moving out of the room and after Jude.

Which is when he hears Cooter start shouting.

"Did your brother really 'fondle' the grenades? Cause thats just wierd man!" Morgan calls out over Jude's shoulder as the Keymaster starts in on them. That is cut short by the sudden and dramatic entry of something he did not expect to see.

Eyes widen, ears droop just slightly as he stares in shock.

"So..." A beatpause. "...Metal Demon?"

Then its roaring and lunging at them. Blood sprays from Jude as the reporter starts to shooting and the Fox...well...he takes off running in the opposite direction.

Wait? WHAT. DID HE JUST RUN AWAY.

Thats what it looks like for a second at least.

But then Morgan's booming voice returns as it echos down the corridor.

"JUDE GET DOWN!"

Further behind the little group Morgan stands now, having come back out of the armory with the most dangerous thing there.

In one hand dangles the cucco's cage.

Smelling blood and cordite the feathered demon begins to pace and call furiously, the gage swinging about even as Morgan cocks back his arm and hurls it like a grenade at the Metal Demon.

His other hand comes up, a single six-shooter in it. One crack of a shot rings out, snapping the cage door right with the feathered demon is above the head of the metal one.

The cuccos dominance as been threatened by this metal usuper.

This will not stand.

With a ringing battle-cluck the feathered fiend leaps at the Metal Demon, claws and beak going for its eyes.

That should be a good enough distraction.

...this doesn't mean he stops shooting though. Oh no. There needs to be a lot of led flying downrange for Morgan to be satisified that the'll walk out of this. 

<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

She stares as Jude's shotgun manages to blow through the weapons locker's doors, and into the wall beyond, yielding a mess of weapons and one deadly cuccoo. Cassidy, for a moment, backs away from the bird. She warned Noah about this, didn't she?

"Ay, well....nae," she says, before the blonde snatches up the nearest bandolier of grenades she can grab, as well as a sword and long range rifle, swinging it up and letting the shells snap into place before she follows after Jude. For a moment, there's an inquisitive look cast somewhere at his back, head tilted slightly, as this is a novel experience for her as well. It wasn't often that she finds the redhaired reporter taking charge, for once, though she's already suspected that he's been in countless dangerous situations enough that he's more exasperated by it than anything. It only emphasizes the fact that whatever was going on outside, between them and sweet, sweet freedom, is something patently serious.

Very serious. Deadly serious.

When they all emerge in the guard station, surrounded by guards and a rather large man covered in Symbology tattoos, she stops short, rifle spun around with the ease of a woman who has handled them all her life, and not however long she has claimed wandering around Filgaia. The long-ranged firearm flips over her shoulder, locking in place almost immediately with her finger on the trigger and eyes narrowed dangerously, muscle memory hammered into her very marrow, efficiency honed in dark rooms and marching to the drum beats of the most ruthless soul she has ever encountered triggered the instant she finds Jude well within the sights of so many guns and one dangerous looking individual who identifies himself as...

....and all of that deadly prescience dies at the sound of breathless laughter, mirth stitching up her ribs in rabid coils of fire and lightning. She nearly drops her gun. She nearly doubles over. Tears start leaking at the corners of her eyes as she attempts to lean in something, anything, only to rest her hands on her knees as the rest of the contingent stare at her disbelievingly.

"...y....your name is COOTER?!" she gasps. "WHY? Did your mum nae want you after all? Was it revenge? I mean, with that giant fookin melon of yours, you probably made her go intae labor for hours just tae-- "

The western wall suddenly explodes. Her laughter dies; all mirth empties quickly - not when the guards are reduced to a mass of blood and shattered bones, not when poor Cooter makes a dashing pancake against the opposite wall, but when the metal reptilian monstrosity tears into Jude and sends a streamer of crimson erupting from his chest, stark against the white of his borrowed chef's dress.

She is moving immediately.

A sudden, savage blur of gold and cream, she zig-zags a path heading right for the beast, cutting into an interception path between it and the red-haired reporter and utterly heedless of the blades in its hands; a deadly Iron Maiden waiting to happen, should she get caught in the middle of those.

She leaps, springboarding off a swiping claw after a tense bend of her knees, muscles screaming in reminder that her best acrobatic days are far behind her. She soars like a bird, right for the crocodile's face, a hand snapping out to slam a long blade right into its muzzle. It finds purchase, cleaving through metal when she drives her entire weight into it; her other hand spins the bandolier of grenades around and attempts to shove her entire right arm into the gaping socket in which one of its eyes used to be, handily blown out by Jude's shotgun, while the homicidal cuccoo lands in the other to try and peck its right eye out.

Cassidy loves her grenades. She loves them especially in tightly enclosed spaces, stuffed in vulnerable spots. The effects are akin to a fist closed over a live firecracker....none of the fingers would ever survive.

"GET CLEAR OF IT! GET CLEAR!" she cries, in an attempt to encourage the rest to keep their distance while she hangs onto the thing; cowgirl on a wild, blind steer. 

<Pose Tracker> Noah Hawthorne has posed.

There are weapons. There is a cucco. Noah was informed about the cuccos, and he eyes it sidelong while the others load up on whatever is in that weapons closet to take. He hasn't done anything, really, other than tag along at the back, so his revolver cylinders are still full. Cassidy and Jude have plenty of bullets apiece and the explosives situations sorted. The danger they are in is dire enough that he sees no point in taking any of the non-lethal options like batons with him, so he elects not to take anything. It would only weigh him down.

A lot of things happen fast after that. There's a largely naked guy in a helm, covered in symbology runes and wielding a whip, who earns Noah's first actual expression and unprompted quip of the evening. "Well, that's a look, I guess."

And so is the pile of bloody broken bones he's turned into as something massive and terrifying obliterates the wall, its razor-sharp claws leaving grooves in the stone floor as it skids to a halt and wheels around to face them.

Goes after Jude.

There's a flick of his gaze around the room. Over the walls, up to the heavy, wrought-iron chandelier overhead. He draws both revolvers, aims not at the thing his bullets might ricochet off of when it's so damned dangerously close to the gentleman reporter, but at the chandelier, hoping that Jude can get distance from it, waiting--

And then Morgan hucks a cucco at it. And fires a veritable torrent of bullets that way.

And then Cassidy Cain is literally clinging to the thing, and all hope of dropping the chandelier on it dies.

He doesn't even trust shooting it, because he doesn't know whether or not the bullets will glance off of it and fill the conwoman, instead. So he stands there, stymied, and hopes for a better opportunity. 

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

Poor Cooter. Lost before he could even throw a tantrum about his name.

Because what comes in his place is a very real, very dire threat. A beast of metal-turned-flesh, a demonic monstrosity from legend. This is no exhibit. This is no theorized rendering of a long-extinct beast.

This is the real thing, ravenous and slavering and gaining first blood with the all-too-real carve of its claw against tanned and bloodying flesh.

Jude stumbles backwards, grimacing as his free hand lifts up towards his injury to apply pressure as best he can in a pinch. The reporter deals with that injury as gamely as any war veteran might, overlooking the pain to focus on the objective. The shells from his shotgun tear the beast's eye to shards of glass and metal; it roars, thrashing violently, tail whipping about with frenetic smashing sounds into the earth. No doubt the respectable reporter is in for a very violent mauling--

--but something, a blur of gold, intervenes. Transposed between the two, Jude blinks, shotgun pausing. "Cassie, wait-- "

But off she leaps, springboarding onto the beast, and Jude stumbles backwards to lean against the wall as she rides the behemoth like she were riding a bucking bronco. He blinks, blearily, feeling the warmth of his life oozing between his fingers as he stares at...

... is that the cucco?

"Morg... that was the dumbest thing... anyone's ever done--"

But he says it in a complimentary way, at least.

And, at least, the cucco does its damage, savaging the beast relentlessly before Cassidy shoves those grenades inside. Jude knows what's coming. He ducks, covering his head, and then--

--the explosion is felt even more than it's heard as the reptilian skull of the Metal Beast explodes into a heap of metal shrapnel and quicksilver blood splattering over anything and anyone in its way. It slumps, heat and smoke rising from its disgorged head as Jude looks up, blinking.

"... so..."

...

"... maybe I'm delirious from the blood loss, but I say we get the hell out of here as fast as humanly possible."

From the corner of his eye, Jude sees the cuccoo, sprinting to the freedom of the chaos beyond to reap feathery retribution on anything in its way. His eyes squeeze into an incredulous blink.

"... maybe faster." 

<Pose Tracker> Morgan Newkirk has posed.


"Dumb as standing there and letting that thing claw ya while ya tried to chat it up?" Morgan shoots back as the echos of the explosion from Cassidy's grenades fade. He moves forwards though though the smoke and the debris to reach out to help Jude back to his feet. "You're not delirious, but still...good advince..." He admits as he reaches into the pouch he stole from the guard post to pull out a compression bandage.

This he'll start to slip on Jude. Possibily getting sicky adhesive all over his coat in the process because he's not really paying attention and dear lord thats a lot of blood.

"Cass, that was compleatly insane!" A beat pause. "Which in your case is totally expected." He adds with a smirk as he glances towards her and then towards Noah. "We need to get to the Guildhouse. Should be safe there for a bit, enough to catch a breath."

He casts his eyes to the hole in the wall. The acrid smell of ash on the wind. The faint sound of weapons fire, roars of furious creatures and the horrifing snap hiss of fires raging out of control.

"...how did they get a blood army here without anyone seeing em..." 


<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

She doesn't appear to hear the warnings, but she does know that she needs to get off the thing sooner rather than later. Cassidy wrenches herself off the thing and throws herself away, pushing off it with her feet and falling towards the ground. She lets herself go limp, the better to absorb the fall, to bounce off it and feel her teeth knock together and her bones impact jarringly as she follows the roll. Over and over until she manages to gain enough distance and momentum to right herself up on one knee, hands braced on the ground in front of her.

But she does clear away for Noah to take his chance and take it out now that its cranium is stuffed full of explosives.

Whenever it's over, the blonde stares as she watches the cuccoo cluck and savage its way to freedom, and turns her emerald eyes towards the large holes punched into the castle and into the outside world. Adlehyde is burning; she can barely recognize its skyline anymore, filled with the red-gold glow of multiple fires and smoke blanketing the air above in thick sheets. She turns her head, to make a quick accounting to the rest of the people she's with, scanning for any injuries - Jude's is pretty obvious, but she silently watches Noah and Morgan as well, though she doesn't express her concern in any way that can be heard...not that she's capable of articulating those emotions in any healthy way anyway.

She picks her way through the rubble, reaching up to tear her entire right sleeve off. Fingers move in an attempt to stuff the cloth into Jude's open jacket, and button it up securely to keep the makeshift compress in place. "You're nae going tae move too fast if you dinnae get that looked at," she tells him, uncaring of blood soaking into her fingertips. She reaches down to pick up the dropped rifle, slinging it over her shoulder and grimly looking at the battlefield that seems to stretch endlessly before them.

Morgan calls her insane. She stares at him, and then points emphatically at where they have to go in order to get to the Guildhall. "I think we're about tae do something crazier in a bit here, luv, but ay. Sounds like a plan." Pause. "...five percent of a plan because God only knows what's going tae happen when we're actually in the middle of it." She sighs. "....fook me running." Were they really going to go out there?

She starts moving, leading the way this time, through the broken down wall and into the city that used to be Adlehyde.

"Well, it could be worse," she tells them with a sigh. "At least we have nae seen any of those golems walking around just yet. Maybe all that work was nae for nothing." 

<Pose Tracker> Noah Hawthorne has posed.

There's no need to drop the chandelier -- the grenades handle that with aplomb, and in any event Noah is leery of risking crushing the cucco. Adlehyde has enough problems without him chancing a second war of the cuccos.

It's over quickly, as usual with liberal application of explosives. Not nearly swiftly enough for Jude, who took the brunt of that assault, and it's Jude that Noah is concerned about in the aftermath of it all. Cassidy AND Morgan both have the foresight to create not just one but TWO compresses for the man's chest -- has any wound ever been so compressed before? -- but Noah holsters his pistols and takes up a spot close to the reporter's shoulder -- not assuming that he needs help to get out of the Castle, but close enough to catch him if he bleeds enough to need support.

He meets Morgan's glance and nods a tight little nod in answer to what he says about the Guild, though there are more tasks than merely those for Noah. It will be enough, though, to ensure that the other three get to where they need to go before he splits off from the trio and attends to other things.

...Assuming, he thinks, looking out over the char and rubble as the pit of his stomach fills with stones, That there is anything left to attend to.

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