The temple clock was just striking six when a horde of clumsily herded horses thundered up to the gates of Yaggis House. One, an old and gentle horse, broke away from the mass, ridden by a Hobbit strapped precariously in place. She shouted the afternoon password of 'trouble' at the sniggering guard quartet who unquestioningly opened the door. The night shift was replacing the day watch, but the gate guards where always the last to be relieved, their replacements reluctant and slow. No one was going to stop a Hobbit with the correct password. Leave security to the nobs up at the fortified mansion was their attitude. Their job was just to keep the locals out of the compound grounds.
The Necromancer smiled as they cantered swiftly into the grounds. Before her spread the walled grounds of Yaggis House. The mansion itself, a plush whitewalled hall sprawled at one end of the complex. On the opposite side stood a half-dozen sheds, several guarded. Scattered through out the centre of the compound several crumbling storehouses and, from the stink wafting in the air, a latrine house. The rest of the ground was a dusty space, intermittently camped on by the sidekicks of those with an audience with the privileged few within.
The wizard ignored the house. Her attention was focused on the sheds, where inside of one according to Hengest, her friends fearfully awaited the dawn.
The Cleric meanwhile was staring at the mansion intensely.
"Necromancer," he said levelly "your friends. One is a Half-Drow isn't she?"
"Mmm," agreed the mage vaguely, wondering if they could inspect the sheds now, or should wait till dark.
"Is that her walking into the house, surrounded by guards there?" said Ronald, pointing out a distance female figure.
Shock flooded the Unknown Necromancer.
"Wee Jass!" she swore "What are they doing over there?!"
To the pair's horror the Hobbit immediately leaned over to one of the gate guards, their surly Hobbit leader and pointed at the vanishing group of prisoners.
"What's with the Drow?" she slurred.
The guard captain gave her an odd look.
"You ain't heard?" he asked curiously.
"She's been drunk all evening," lied Ron, grabbing the reins from the dull-eyed Hobbit's grasp and trying to pull her away.
The captain shrugged, evidently satisfied with the explanation. Ysel's appearance no doubt helped.
"She's with a bunch brought in this afternoon," he called after them helpfully "Boss wants to see them about some sorta job. If you want to see the Drow she'll be back in shed four soon enough. They ain't exactly happy to be here, if you catch my drift."
Ron waved his acknowledgement of the information, and they rode off a fair distance before pretending to make camp for the night. The horses were kept saddled but tied up. The mage just hoped nobody took any more notice of them.
"Warn me the next time you try something like that!" Ron snapped at Ysel.
"You got your information didn't you?" she retorted, spreading an old cloak on the ground as if for a mattress.
"Another trick like that and we'll be joining them for a reunion!" rebutted the Cleric.
"Knock it off you two," said the wizard softly, "We need to think about this carefully. Torfindel isn't in the cell anymore. They are all up at the house. Now, whatever business Pretzel has with them he'll do up there, but their prison is out here. They'll have to be brought back here, and that will be our moment. Think about it!" she exclaimed excitedly "There'll be only a handful of guards compared to the cells. It's half the distance to the gates if we hit them in the middle of the compound. Plus we know that their arms and legs are free while they're walking- Carmina was free wasn't she Ron?"
The Cleric nodded his affirmation.
The Necromancer shot up and began pacing excitedly, thinking hard.
"Smokey can watch the house for us," she said "We'll know as soon as they leave. We can be in position and ambush them. The guards won't suspect a thing."
"How did Smokey get in here?" asked Ysel curiously.
"I sent him a message," replied the mage carelessly "He just trotted in on the heels of some bunch of travellers or something. Now let me think."
"We couldn't break them out quietly at night like we planned before," she muttered to herself "This'll have to be done quickly, before they can organise. Odds are better at first-"
As the other two watched she paced to more circles of their 'camp' muttering to herself. Ronald found his attention wandering, and he found himself staring thoughtfully at the Hobbit captain of the gate guard. Something the way the Hobbit was looking at them…
Abruptly it came to him and he gave a snort of laughter, cutting the Unknown Necromancer off in mid-thought.
"You want to lower the odds at the gate?" he asked playfully.
"Well yes," said the Necromancer, wondering what Ron was getting at "We'll need to pull those things open to ride out of here. I'd love it if we didn't have to kill four heavily armed thugs first."
"Our gate boss is watching Ysel," the Cleric informed them "very appreciatively."
Ysel looked at him scathingly, then turned and gave a small wave to the guard. To her surprise he waved eagerly back. She looked up to find the Cleric grinning down at her and dangling his fishnet tights.
"You can't talk," she said.
"That old building to our right seems pretty deserted," he replied speculatively "Lovely gloomy interior. Lots of privacy. A Hobbit would be nearly blind. It strikes me that Elves could see in there very well though."
Ysel to was thoughtfully regarding the building.
"Of course, somebody'd have to stay here," she said.
"I will," said the Necromancer wearily, seeing the glint of excitement that had kindled in the eyes of her partners "I need a clear head in case Smokey sends a message."
"Glad that's settled then," said Ron vaguely "I think I'll just go for a walk."
"I will too," said Ysel, not meeting anyone's eyes.
Whistling, they set off in different directions, the Hobbit swaying gently.
The mage looked around her catiously. Seeing no one watching she flipped back a cloak to reveal the selection of blades they'd smuggled inside with them. With all three already carrying two knives and a blade- short swords for Ysel and the Necromancer and a long sword for the Cleric- they'd managed to buy and smuggle in another long sword, a short sword and three daggers. These were the weapons they were going to arm the others with when the breakout came. Quietly the mage began stuffing daggers into her belt.
Standing behind the half-closed door of the deserted storehouse, his heart beating quickly, Ronald watched Ysel's progress towards the gate. He saw the Hobbit guard who'd been leaning idly against the wall scratching his backside spot her and stand up, puffing his chest out. His three subordinates noticed and began sniggering amongst themselves. Ysel walked straight up to the captain and said something to him that made those around him break into gales of laughter, and him to blush scarlet to the roots of his hair. She asked a question to which he nodded vigorously. She indicated the storehouse with a slow tilt of her head and glided off, throwing a last 'come-hither' look after the guard, who was busy ranting at his men. Finally he turned and scampered after Ysel. Without his disciplinary presence two guards immediately sat down and began a dice game. The third looked on with a bored expression.
Ysel was almost at the door, the Captain scarcely a dozen paces behind. Ron faded into the shadows behind the door. Wearing his black cloak he was invisible to Hobbit eyes in the gloomy interior. Carefully he mumbled a word of power over his blade and felt the enchantment take hold in the steel, endowing it with a magical cutting edge. He placed the glowing sword under his cloak, cutting off its revealing light. It would only last a minute or so, but that was plenty of time for his purpose.
Ysel crashed in through the door swinging it shut behind her, and frantically fumbling for her sword. Her blackjack was safely back at the camp after the last debacle. Her blood was roaring in her veins, and everything seemed crystal clear. She was hearing every little sound from the creaking of the door to her own sharp, shallow breaths. Even her skin tingled in contact with the air. She'd told the guard to follow her to the shed because she had 'something personal she wanted to show him'. He'd tumbled after her of course. She'd felt dirty after contact with him, as if somehow his own corruption had been passed to her. Now though, with mushrooms and adrenaline rushing through her it was as if she'd been washed clean. What was going to happen was necessary to make amends for stealing the damn mushrooms in the first place, not that she was ever going to tell the Necromancer about that.
She hid her naked blade under her cloak and faced away from the door as her wooer crashed through the same door, already half out of his leather jerkin. Ron stepped out immediately and lashed out with the glowing sword, opening a huge gash along the Hobbit's shoulders. The captain's forward speed however saved him from having his head parted from his shoulders and he immediately rolled forwards and turned towards his attacker with uncanny swiftness. A throwing knife appeared in his hand as he hurled it straight at the Cleric's face. Without his shield, and surprised at the speed of his enemy, the Cleric barely had time to turn his face. It saved his life, but the knife pierced the cheek, filling his mouth with blood. Immediately the guard scooped up some dirt and flung it at the priest for good measure, as he backed off, putting some distance between him and his opponent. His hands began fumbling for his sword, caught up in his half-discarded armour.
Seeing Ron choking and floundering Ysel launched herself at the captain, who was still struggling to draw his short sword. Highlighted against the light thrown by the Cleric's sword she saw him easily. Her sword pierced him in between his shoulder blades and drove down, slicing through the lungs to the heart. He gave a small choking noise, stiffened, and then slowly slid off the sword and onto the dirt floor with a thud. She was glad she couldn't see his face in the dark.
With a small cry of pain Ron pulled the knife out of his cheek and threw it away. Holding his hand over the injury he thickly mumbled an incantation and the wound closed. Carefully he inspected the blade for poison, but to his relief it was clean. He looked around for Ysel, wanting to thank her for her timely intervention. He spotted her sitting next to the body of the captain staring down at it blankly. Worried, Ronald hurried over, thoughts about shock or cracking up under the strain flitting through his head. But as he walked up Ysel shook herself and stood up. Carefully she wiped her sword on the captain's cloak and slid it back into its sheath.
"Sorry," she said quietly, unusually somber "I've never killed anyone like that before."
"Well I'm glad you did," replied the Cleric thankfully, "you saved my bacon, that's for sure."
The Hobbit didn't respond. Ron was not the most intelligent person on the material plane as he would have happily admitted, but he did have a powerful intuitive ability and plenty of medical experience. He saw Ysel needed to take her mind off the thing on the floor. It wasn't an easy fact coming to terms with killing someone in cold blood, and the little thief could well become fixated by it, useless to herself and everyone around her.
"Go and search this place for anything we could use," he urged her gently, "I'll take care of this thing."
Ysel looked up at him. After the rush of sensation before the fight had come a frightening numbness. She'd felt sluggish and purposeless. Now at least she had a small goal. It was all she needed. Pulling herself together she stood up and gave the Cleric a tired smile. New confidence coursed through her, whether from the mushrooms or her own psyche she couldn't tell. Crack she wouldn't.
"Thank you, Ron," she smiled, and, feeling more like her old self she turned around and began rooting through the storehouse's shelves.
Ron picked up the body and dumped it behind a stack of boxes. With luck no one would know he was missing until the night watch was changed, by which time they would be out of here or dead. He to didn't look at the body, although he hastily murmured some final rites for it. Backing out swiftly he found Ysel waiting for him with a stack of torches in her arms. She'd also acquired a small crossbow and a stack of strange-looking quarrels. They glinted slightly blue in the glow of the Cleric's sword.
"Good search!" congratulated Ronald.
"Thanks," the Hobbit replied dryly.
"Ysel?" said the Cleric hesitantly.
"Yes?"
"Next time we'll bring a club and some rope," he said.
"Oh," said Ysel "That's nice of you to say that. But the truth is you won't know when we're going to need to do this again do you? Now if you don't mind I would like to get out of here."