Spiritzer — Roleplayer Guild

My post is up, sorting through the allies they could have potentially made took more time than usual, two had come forth to help them and provide more options than they would normally have. Though, their actions and exhaustion is starting to show. Mind the tiredness and wounds, I will start failing your actions with consequences (I will start auto hitting and such if you are in combat and did not realize you had a wound that stopped you dodging in a direction, for example.)

I must say, things could have been a lot worse but you guys managed to somehow make accomplices of the two exact characters who would help you all out at the same scenario and no one else. So ...four choices at once! :).

@Cyrania@Spiffy

The Arena, Before dusk in Alvion, Raining

@Cyrania@Spiffy

  Having to run across the courtyard to reach where that bastard escaped meant exposing himself to the archers up above, in his single minded pursuit of his foe, Cicero forgot how slow the strain from his fight with Joshua made him, as a duo of arrows flung themselves at him! One glancing his plated legs, the other catching him in the soft part of his greaves. 

  ...because of that the gate slammed shut just moments out of reach, whoever opened them for the barbarian wasn't keen on letting his pursuers through either.

  Stuck out in the open, it was only moments before the first squad of soldiers were upon them. The archers above were already winding their second volley. Things seemed bleak ...then suddenly!

  "I will SMITE THEE in the name of my liege!"

   A large, metal clad mountain joined the throng of soldiers from a blindside. Raising his weapon haphazardly as he waddled through the crowd in an almost confuzzled manner, shouting at Gwyneira and Cicero. His boisterous demeanour barely matched his effectiveness, as the soldiers could barely push past the crowds quickly already, now they had to deal with this oaf of a contender right smack in between the two contradicting lines of panicked people and guardsmen.

  'MOVE ASIDE, FOOL!' 'GET OUT OF THE LINE!'

  "You will PAY FOR THIS, TRAITORS!!!" 

Olberion yelled again, shaking his fist till a guard actually speared firmly at his palm as a stern warning to the witless gladiator to move out of the way. To which he could not help but grasp his hand and slowly shuffle aside. 

  The antics of Olberion the Unbent bought them time, unintentional or not, his crass zealotry had made an obstacle out of the only apparent open entrance out of the arena. They had another minute or so more,

  These gates could be opened from the inside, the portcullis could be lifted if someone manned the levered wheel on the other side. But getting to that side was going to be a problem. Gwyneira felt her wakefulness ebb like a drained tub after her last spell, she had cast one too many spells today and that would likely have had to be her last one. 

  That one particular gate was made to with hold monsters sometimes used in partcularly 'festive' fights that were led in from some pen area, it would be extremely difficult for them to lift it forcefully unless they had an individual with unseeming strength with them.

  As Cicero tried his hand at lifting the gate to gauge how heavy it was, someone called at him from the side. 

  "Hey! Here!"

   A male's strained and raspy voice echoed from the darkness, trying not to be loud enough to alert the guards to his pressence. It was from another gate not too far to their side, this one unlike the one they had intended to go through where it, seemed to lead into some tunnels that Cicero had never seen opened before. But seeing how the water from the rain still flowed along the floor in it's direction, it likely led to somewhere the water could escape ...maybe even them.
  
  Rusted chains scream against the stress after being in disuse for so long. Both of them could make out the shadow of a single familiar hooded figure carrying a backpack, turning the wheel by hand.

  These other grates slowly lifted off the ground, making enough room for them to duck under if they wanted to. Would they trust this unexpected opportunity? Or would they find another way? Maybe even stand and fight for their innocence?

The man cursed, remembering some softly spoken words said to him long ago, now of all moments. His feet stopped in hesitation midstep, fingers scratching marks in the narrow mold encrusted tunnel walls. There was barely any room left to turn, 

  ...don't
  No...
  ...?

  His eyes nervously peered behind his shoulders, he could still hear everything. Literally. Their shouts, their screams... It was just like ....

  I can't ...
  ...too many. I don't want to get shot!
            ...I still have a life. They ....!

  'They say a choice in the darkest hour.
         Is the way we find out what we are made of.'

...
...
...

    "...rrargh, son of a bit-!"

Olberion, though exhausted from the match and the healing that ensued afterwards, decided that he had met a fine fellow this day and it would not do if he did not see how far he ...no, they, went.

  No longer willing to lay idle in his room, if it can even be called that, he found his way to the stands. It was unpleasant being around spectators, too many questions, too many looks, he had afterall refused to show himself even to his healer. Insisting on being healed with his armour on.

  ...when the rain poured and the insanity took place, he could not believe what was going on in front of him. There was simply no way the other knight could have done that ...was there? He seemed so transparently forthcoming, so tied to what principles he had. No, no there had to be a mistake, ...right ....?

  It was a moment of impulse when the guards came pouring out, they were going to slay the two there and then. No capturing, that much he knew. He took a step out of line, imposing an obstacle. To say the least he would have usually been a terrible actor but he still felt doubt, shock and maybe even hatred for the possibility that their liege was indeed murdered by another knight. That, he could draw on and put on a convincing act of zealotory.

He drew a deep breath,

  "I will SMITE-"

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