EVENT ★ THE USUAL SUSPECTS

[futurologists]

THE BARRIER As promised, Arthur has the means to unlock that first, crucial step to saving the ALASTAIR recruits: unveiling the runes maintaining the barrier. He has sequestered himself in a rented room in the inn down the road from the prison; he’s at a good enough distance to keep his concentration unbroken, but near enough that he can reach the runes in question. The recruits are told to be ready, to wait for his signal before they take action. The signal comes just after the stroke of 5 on the town’s clocks, at what would be dawn in a world of less darkness. There’s a shimmer in the air around the brick building of the jail, like the surface of a bubble. Then suddenly the runes are there: glowing bright green, flaming into existence at various points along and within the barrier. There are at least 30 of them along the outside. They’re etched on walls, scribed into doors, carved into the very ground. These have to be destroyed first to make any progress, in any way the recruits are able to. Once these all have been broken, erased, or scattered (and some of them are cleverly hidden or out of reach -- have you checked the topmost brick in the clock tower of the jailhouse?), the first defense of the barrier has fallen. Then the jailhouse itself can be rushed, but magic is still hampered until every rune is destroyed. From there the runes can be found every few feet in the walls, ceilings, and floors of the jail, and only once each one is broken will the spell be completely lifted, magic and abilities restored to the area, and the inmates considerably easier to break out. The recruits aren’t the only ones that can see those runes, though. The jailers are quick to react, and some spring to the defense of the runes while others rush to sound the alarm, calling even more armed guards to the area. Even city guards start to show up in response to the alarm -- there’s definitely a time limit on this venture. Dispose of the runes, rescue your friends, and be out of the area quickly, or you might just be overrun with armed, angry opposition. THE ESCAPE By the time those in the cells are finally brought out, it’s pandemonium. The guards, jailers and city guards alike, might not have been able to stop ALASTAIR’s recruits from destroying the runes and bringing down the barrier, but they’re determined at least to stop dangerous criminals from escaping into the city. And these criminals were due to be hung, so they’re not looking to take anyone down peacefully. They’ll be going for the killing blows. The best chance will be to rely on numbers and scatter. In ones and twos and threes, people should be taking to shadowy alleys, slipping around corners, even dropping down into the sewers, if they have to. Anything to thin out and disappear. The most capable and destructive fighters are asked to stay as long as they can, giving the bulk of the rest of the escapees time to disappear into that unending night. THE COOLDOWN Those that helped free their friends probably won’t run into too many problems in the following days, unless you run into a guard with a few injuries and a long memory. The ex-prisoners, though, are another story. They were in there long enough that the men and women who guarded them know most of their faces quite well, and since they’re out of prisoners to guard, what else do they have to do but take to the streets and search? Ex-prisoners should play it carefully, then, if they don’t want to end up right back where they started. Guards are more than happy to cause an immediate fracas should they spot anyone that belongs in jail. That’s not to say you shouldn’t go out at all! Just, you know, take a disguise with you. As if anticipating the rising demand for them, all local merchant shops seem to be stocking up on scarves, shawls, and bulky clothing. Isn’t that nice? Most of them don’t really care what anyone did to end up in jail, they just want to share in on those ALASTAIR-paid wages. If spotted, townsfolk have varied opinions of the escapees. Some are mistrustful and bitter, and will immediately alert guards upon realizing who they’re dealing with. Some of them really don’t care. They’re tired of the darkness, tired of the conflicts, they just want to get on with life. One old man in particular seems to inexplicably love all ALASTAIR recruits, the ex-prisoners in particular, and will insist on buying a drink and playing a game of chess with any of them he runs into. The goblins, of course, have pretty good opinions of anyone on the wrong side of the king, and will be your best bet for finding lodging and food. Some of them might even think of you as a hero, or at least a roguishly charming vigilante. Spend your post-breakout time well, and try not to make any more enemies.

Comments

[headlining]

Then you have my solemn oath, as well.

[He doesn't know what it would be like to be in debt to someone in terms of a favor, but Keats is confident enough to think that won't ever happen. He shakes his head, looking amused.]

How so? You're not going to jump up and down and try to distract me, right? [He scoffs.] If you did that, I'd be more worried about you, my approach to this will be rather....explosive, if you will.

[riastraid]

[ He laughs a little at that—yeah, he's just gonna wave his hands around in front of Keats' face and try to get him to miss. If only it were that simple. ]

Don't worry, go ahead with whatever. I'm pretty tough.

[ A bit less so in this place, but in general... he can take a couple wallops, no problem. Also, he seems to be planning on doing a whole lot more than that. He lifts a hand, as though writing in blank space, quite literally: a trail of light follows his fingers as he starts to draw out a quick set of runes himself, aglow with magic.

Doesn't look like he plans on sitting back and letting Keats do as he wants. ]

[headlining]

Alright, but don't go crying to me when you get hit in the head with a piece of brick.

[He starts to move into position, trying to mentally calculate how far he needs to be to take that rune down. However, the movement of Lancer's hands and the glow of the rune out of the corner of his eye is sort of distracting, so he calls out:]

What's that you're doing? You're not going to turn me into a frog or something, are you?

[riastraid]

[ He probably deserves to get pelted in the head with something heavy, lbr. Especially when his grin turns cheeky. ]

How'd you guess?

[ But... no. When the symbols he's drawn flash with light, they seem to stamp themselves in the air about the other rune. The space there shifts and goes murky, light passing strangely through it: a bounded field. Or a 'barrier,' so to speak. Not a particularly powerful one (it's already frivolous to be casting magic here, can't waste that much—) and certainly something that could be busted through with some effort, but an eerie-looking nuisance all the same.

Also, those sure are guards showing up. ]

—Ah, nevermind. Sorry, guess the toads'll have to wait.

[ He doesn't seem in a rush to help out as the men shout and head their way, swords scraping free of their scabbards. ]

[headlining]

Oh, come now, really?

[When the barrier forms, he can't help but let out a curse under his breath. This really wasn't fair. He grits his teeth, trying to spur his mind to catch up and form a plan, but he has scarcely a few seconds before he hears the sound of metal scraping against metal. The guards are here.]

[Of course the guards are here.]

[If there's one thing that being in the Netherworld has taught him, it's how to think quickly on his feet. It's not like he hasn't had his fare of challenges, ranging from ambushes to invisible beasts to barriers needing to be knocked down. While others might freeze in panic, Keats moves forward, relying on his instincts which have pulled him out of trouble time and time again.]

[He turns to the crowd of guards coming towards him. First, he'll deal with them. His eyes widen behind his glasses, a strange purple light filling them as he concentrates.]

Okay, I really don't want to be disturbed, you hear me? I have a bet to win, you idiots!

[He throws a hand to the ground, energy crackling from his fingers as something vaguely elephant-like shimmers before him. The beast stomps its hooves, and the ground shakes, large piercing icicles bursting out of the ground to form a wall of sorts around him.]

[There, that should buy him some time.]

[He turns to the barrier next, large ghost-like fists of stone forming around his hands so that he can bash at it. As he does so, he shoots a dirty look over at Lancer.]

You're really aiming to win this thing, aren't you?

[riastraid]

[ It's not a bad showing. In fact—Keats apparently has enough chops to summon a familiar without issue. And none of the usual little golems or mind-controlled crows; this thing really packs a punch, startling the guards backwards and leaving them aimless, swords still drawn but hesitant.

It's promising, because despite his penchant for lightheartedness, Lancer is a Servant. An untethered, hungering spirit. It's in his best interest to test the mettle of the mages around him, see who might be able to sustain his existence, whose soul he can leech off of, all that good stuff.

But just as importantly—Keats is clearly going to make this interesting.

Lancer grins for it. ]

Of course! [ well, not really, or he'd be trying to stab Keats through the heart— ] Can't just roll over and let this go, right?

[ And so he holds up a hand, summoning up his lance with a shimmer of light. It swings around in a vicious, red arch as he lunges forward, trying to cut between Keats and the (relatively fragile) barrier. But it's meant to be a glancing blow at best. Nothing serious. (Or as not serious as the business end of a spear could be, really.) ]

[headlining]

[For all he denies it, there's certainly a deep well of magic that Keats has at his beck and call, though he'll never admit why that's the case. It comes too naturally to him to be entirely comfortable. He bashes the barrier again, twisting his head to glance at Lancer when he speaks...]

[And he suddenly spots the lance shimmering in Lancer's hands. Guess he's not going to be left alone to his own devices like he had hoped.]

[The fists disappear, and Keats grits his teeth and throws up a hand as if to shield himself- internally, he's thanking his previous experiences in the Netherworld for learning the fact that enemies always have something to throw at him. Ice balls, fireballs, electrified spikes, huge mobs of bloodthirsty birds...he's had that all tossed at him, and more. He could just jump out of the way, but he has a better plan, and that's to call on one of the first Folks he ever received.]

[The lance hurtles towards him, and it doesn't make it - a transparent purple shield forms around him, deflecting the attack with a sound like metal glancing off metal.]

[Keats' glowing purple eyes can still be seen blazing behind his summoned shield, narrowed in a glare.]

Nice try. [He can't hold on the shield for too long, and he can feel it already slipping. He takes a few steps back, letting his free hand summon another Folk, which forms a spear around it. Shield and spear. He almost feels like some sort of warrior. But he can't dwell on that for too long - he shoves the spear into the barrier, trying his best to crack it and break it down.]

All's fair in love and war and getting a favor out of a bet, huh?

i 100% encourage keats to win this btw

[riastraid]

[ Deny away, Keats—the evidence is woefully obvious. The eyes. The scent and stillness of magic in the air. Even the unnatural means of summoning a weapon's helped his progress, a fissure starting down the barrier at impact. It cracks and spreads in a web, like a thin frame of ice.

Lancer does nothing to try and reinforce it again. When push comes to shove, magic's secondary—his spear's drawn now (better yet, so is his "enemy's," and it's a great choice if he does say so himself!!), and that's what matters. When one of the guards does manage to slide past the wall Keats built, he swings it unceremoniously in a quick, sweeping arch behind him, blade slicing a deep rut straight down the man's torso. He falls. Lancer's tone is a fraction more serious now, but not over the bloodshed. ]

That's right.

[ Before Keats can strike at it again, Lancer suddenly dashes about ahead of him in a blur of motion, spear thrust out to smash into his shield. Tit for tat. ]

No going back now, okay?

[ The guards are chipping and bashing away at the wall, shouting and furious and patience ground to a nib over this nonsense. Lancer's not going to pull his punches forever. The barrier he's erected continues to decline and break now that it's faltered.

A lot could happen, and come what may. The only thing he won't allow for is retreat. ]