Gaolhouse Rock (closed)

[Otto]

Otto never actually expected Kaphyka to go down. The old sod was about as tough as they came - but the hellspawn had bested him without taking a scratch in return. What sort of chance did Otto have against that? With Kaphyka out, everything changed.

When have you ever won a fight, thinking like that?

Never. Otto had rejected death too many times to start falling into that old trap again. He had to think, and play his strengths against his opponent's weakness. Unfortunately, both of those seemed quite small at the moment... but what was the alternative? Otto squared himself, and shrugged a reply to Aurelius' goad.

"As you wish", stated the orc.

Perhaps it wasn't so hopeless after all. This 'Aurelius' had actually done him a favour by swapping over to that cleaver; such weapons lacked the sheer punch of a good dagger, which was what had got the tiefling through Otto's mail sleeve before. If he could just get the cleaver to hit his shield along the grain, it might just wedge into the wood and give him the advantage that he needed. He gave the shield an experimental twist, and winced. The odds of that happening weren't looking too good.

"Otto!".

Becker must have heard the commotion, and decided to check out the hallway. Aurelius' gaze darted away to the source of the noise... but Otto's didn't. He capitalised on the sudden distraction by stepping in with an outward swing at the tiefling's ribs - but Aurelius skipped backwards without missing a beat, and the hammer fell short once more. Now that there was a bit more space between them, Otto allowed himself to glance down the corridor, and saw that William had managed to come along as well. Becker had her mace at the ready, while Bill's sword was sheathed, left arm occupied with some sort of walking stick, the other one grasping Otto's spear.

Aurelius, meanwhile, seemed more amused than concerned by this development.

"Dear oh dear, what a sorry circus you lot are", he chuckled. "I'd 'ave loved to 'ave drawn it out, cutter - but frankly, you're forcing my 'and".

Then he charged.

Otto didn't try to defend himself. Rather, he squared his shoulders, hunched down, and leapt forward to meet Aurelius head on. He'd take the small risk of that chopper slipping past his mail if it meant that he could stop the tiefling in his tracks. And if he went down, well, the low swing of Otto's hammer would still spell farewell to the other fellow's kneecap. After that, two should be enough to stick the bastard till he stopped moving, even if one of them could hardly walk.

Too bad he misjudged Aurelius' intent entirely. It was another feint, and the tiefling rolled nimbly to the side, darting past the orc and grabbing his Baatorian dagger on the way. Otto turned to see Aurelius bound up the stairs three at a time, with but a grating cackle lingering in his wake.

"Thaynes, Kaphyka...".

Otto turned to Becker, who had crouched over the sergeant's corpse. She looked up, and Otto saw the same question in both her and Tallow's eyes: what now?

They were expecting him to give them the answers. Technically, they were all the same rank... but Otto was the most senior, and the most experienced. Kaphyka was out of it, now, and those were some pretty big shoes to fill.

"We need to patch you up", William said, nodding at the orc's bloodied arm.

"Agreed. Let's get back to the guard room. Becker, help me with Kaphyka".

They each took an arm and dragged the corpse back down the corridor. William took the lead, while Otto and Becker moved backwards, so as to keep a watch behind them. Once inside, they barred the door again; before it closed, Otto took note of the long, red smear which now ran the length of the hall. They moved Kaphyka into a corner, and Becker set about bandaging Otto's arm after he had propped his shield against a table leg. He looked around for a seat, and found the splintered remains of a chair by the hearth. William noted Otto's focus of attention, and pointedly tapped his new walking stick. The orc planted his rear on the table instead, leaving a chair for the other man.

"What the hell is going on?", Becker growled. She gave one end of a freshly-applied tourniquet a sharp tug, and Otto grimaced.

"Not sure", he replied. "Far as we saw, there's just one man, if you can call him that. He's bloody good, though".

"How'd he get in?", asked William.

"Through Rurin, I think", Otto replied. His eyes were pointed downwards, but he didn't seem to be focusing on anything in particular.

The three of them went still and silent. A sudden melancholic air enhanced the gloom within the unlit guard post.

William was the first to shake it off. "They should be taking Kaphyka out in a few minutes", he mumbled. "Once they realise that our sergeant has been killed, they'll investigate, won't they?".

"We could easily hole up here until then", added Becker.

"No", said Otto, but softly. The other two aimed their puzzled faces in his direction.

"No?", Becker repeated.

"Look at the body - he's grabbed Kaphyka's keys. If we barricade ourselves in here, that bastard can walk out any time he wants. We have to delay him. We have to hold the exit".

"Hells! He took out Carrin before we even knew he was here", William snarled. "And he bested Kaphyka in a two on one fight. I can hardly walk, and your arm is useless! All we'll do is get ourselves killed".

"If this wasn't the Citadel, that would mean something", Becker countered. "Otto may be right".

"We need to get to the armoury. He's quick, but I don't fancy his odds against a crossbow or two", concluded Otto. William either didn't have any more objections, or he was keeping them to himself, because he gave a single, curt nod.

Becker grabbed her mace. "Let's go, then", she suggested.

* * *

The pall of smoke had only thickened in the outside air. Otto had been expected to find to find Carrin's body as they had left it, open to the sky, but the thing was nowhere in sight. He must have been pulled from the arena, his wounds on their way to being mended by the monks. It was nearly impossible to tell against the stink of lingering ash, but there may have been just the merest hint of cooked flesh in the air. Whatever the case, things were far from pleasant out by the dusty dirt path in front of the jail. Otto was getting the worst of it, but Tallow and Becker hadn't been able to stop from coughing up a lung or two from the irritating haze.

"Let me try", said Becker. She put a hand on Otto's shoulder, suggesting he step back and make room. He did so, if a little grudgingly.

"I'm telling you", he grumbled. "It's stuck".

"I'm inclined to agree", William added. Still, he and Becker continued to slam their weight into the tall doors - without success.

"There's a little give. It's not locked - I think something's blocking it", said Becker.

William's face was wrenched tight as he gave a sudden shout. "SHIT!". He moved as though to kick the oak, but quickly thought better of it. "We're trapped. We're trapped in here with him".

But Otto wasn't listening. He had meandered back out from the small gatehouse, to stand in the open yard before the jail. Dull, orange sunlight filtered through the smog and glinted balefully off the freshly exposed metal on his sallet as it turned this way and that. After a few seconds, it stopped moving; the orc had locked on to an area to their far right, by the looks of it, and he raised a finger to point at his discovery.

"There", was all he said. Tallow limped over, but didn't seem to be sure of what he was looking at.

"What is it?", he asked. Otto lowered his arm and shook his head.

"Back to the guard post. We need to check it out, first".

The other two fell in line easily enough. Perhaps they actually trusted his command, reckoned Otto. The trio moved cautiously through the doors into processing, and even more warily along its worn stone flooring. Perhaps they thought he knew what he was doing. Perhaps he did. And, perhaps, they felt just some measure of safety because of it. Well... Otto could understand the attraction, if that was the case. But he knew that safe was the least of what they were, and that knowledge was brought sharply to the fore as he laid a hand on the door to the corridor past Processing.

A tortured shriek flung itself along the halls, muffled but hardly diminished by the heavy door of the room. As the scream dragged on, the sheer power behind it slackened into something doomed and desperate, until it suddenly died off altogether. Otto, Tallow and Becker exchanged deeply unnerved looks.

"We have to move", commanded Otto. He slammed through the portal and, letting the other two past, matched Tallow's frantic hobble towards the guard post.