KHAZUUL

Not all of them… Cutwell reminded himself, knowing that the pit he was about to climb down into was where he had made a bitter enemy among the gang.

He sighs, and waves a wave of submission. He slips his knife away, out of sight, and ushers the others to follow. He hurries to chase the others down, and shouts down into the pit.

"You lot securing that entrance then, is it boys?"

Freki grunts with a bit of frustration at needing to deal with this distraction. "We need to be preparing for our mission, not dealing with these scoundrels," he vents to his friends but follows none the else.

He keeps up close behind Cutwell into the lodge, loosening his whip and readying his shield in case there's trouble.

Sow goes as well, shouldering her new bow and three-arrow quiver before grabbing her spear and jogging towards the building...

The young Styrian's voice calls back from behind the door. He can clearly hear Tunny's yelling. "Fucking hell, Cutwell. You going to die for that asshole? The Black Skulls are done!"

Tunny is shouting in the background, as he harangues more of the Hunters to bring him Falco's head. They gathering their weapons and lace up their armor.

"You know how much the Expeditionary House pays Dario for our artifacts, Cutwell? 1000 gold each. I have a buyer, Cutwell. On the inside. Do you get what that means?"

From inside the supply lodge, you hear the sound of heavy furniture being dragged to barricade the dor, as well as delicate notes of clinking metal - Falco's lock picks.

"Did you come to this god-forsaken place to burn to death on a hill, or did you come here to get rich? I'll cut you in! Get in now or never, I won't ask again."

1000 gp ... Freki says under his breath just at the notions, but he shakes his head showing that he thinks this isn't the right time or the right way to leave the Black Skull.

"I never expected it to be fair, that's the deal of having free shelter and a bit of guidance this first week. Maybe one day we'll decide it's better on our own. But if we ever decide to leave the skulls, we do it properly, not like this, not by stealing their shit," he whispers to the group.

Cutwell simply grunts and makes a face, as if to assure the others that he wasn’t going to slip in quickly and leave them in the shit.

In truth, he had held off making his black skull mask for a reason. He supposed they all had! And if this thing with the odd fishman worked out, that reason would become all the clearer. Still, Freki had a point. They had joined this camp to find their feet down here.

That was a debt that was owed by Cutwell, given that the Black Skulls had afforded them shelter, allies and gear thus far.

He looks to Flint and Sow, waiting to see what they might think. He suspected he knew, but he wasn’t their leader; whatever the men around here might say! They would act as a group.

Flint's past came rushing back. He had done bad things that cost the life of one he had loved. Even though this situation was unrelated, the basic truths were the same. It was about loyalty. The group owed the Black Skulls. He wouldn't betray again. He nodded slowly at Freki for he was right. He also sensed that Cutwell felt the same.

He flatly announced, "I won't be a traitor to the Black Skulls for any amount of gold."

Glancing back at Sow to get a read of how she felt, he then turned to the group. "I say we show those traitors no mercy."

Cutwell hammers his metal arm on the supply room door, though expects little in the way of an answer.

"Come out now, and we’ll talk to Tunny for you, won’t we? Let you slip off into the jungle, maybe!"

He looks to the others, and nods. He pulls his knife slowly, and hopes for an inch of space at the doorway.

Sow’s eyes are wide when she hears about the sums of gold being discussed, but her face is impassive and her eyes darting as the group comes to a collective and unanimous decision — to stay and support the Skulls.

She only gives the others a quick nod to seal the deal before Cutwell makes the first move.

The heavy wooden door feels quite solid under Cutwell's metal arm. The young Styrian calls back

"Should I ask him before or after he strings me up on the pole?"

The sounds continue from within as the men stack furniture and Falco struggles with the lock.

Flint waits for a response to Cutwell's knock and slides his sword slowly from its scabbard, hoping those inside will hear it. When it becomes apparent that no one plans to come out, Flint looks to the others, sword at the ready.

"Shall we?" he asks, nodding toward the door, ready to burst in.

Freki nods to Flint, "Let's do this!" Together they heave the full weight of their large frames against the door in unison to see if they can burst through before the furniture is secured on the other side.

Freki and Flint get ready to bust down the door, timing a coordinated shove before anything else can be added to the barrier. Cutwell, Sow, and Saffron bring up the rear...The Marchguard and the Beast Master smash against the wooden doors, splintering the wood! They force their way through the makeshift barricades, and come upon the henchmen. Their faces are a picture of utter disappointment in their barricade, and they struggle to get their shortswords clear from their scabbards as the Marchguard and the Beastmaster descend upon them. Behind his henchmen, Falco abandons his attempt to pick the lock on the trapdoor that descends into the vaults. He reveals a Union-style flatbow from under his cloak, cranked and loaded...

Freki bursts through the door, hurdling the collapsing furniture, and then side steps to create space for the others to follow. With the henchmen stumbling to get their swords from their scabbards, he notices Falco pulling out the loaded flat bow beyond and keeps his shield close. Freki's whip strikes out faster than the blink of an eye to lash the closest henchman.

Flint who was ready to do battle hopes Freki's whip strikes true but failing that it's a diversion at least. He backs up the attacks one of the henchmen Falco with his trusty sword.

Cutwell winces as he hears steel being drawn and then used! Still outside, he handles his knife nervously and looks to Sow.

Which of the two would breach the space next…

With the fight now on, and Cutwell's expectant gaze on her, Sow hesitates a moment as ice floods her veins... but she pushes through, determination scrunching her face. Spear at the ready, she darts inside!

Falco's henchmen weather the attack. You hear the chink of the chainmail armor they're wearing under their hooded cloaks - clearly Falco has provisioned them well!These men prove their skill, too. Falco has hired hardened men who keep their calm under bad circumstances, even outnumbered. They close with Freki and Flint, driving their short swords at their hearts. Falco decides the Marchguard looks more dangerous with that big sword, and looses his bolt with a loud twang!

Cutwell quickly follows, arm and knife ready to wreak misery on the mutineers. He clambers over the barricade, careful not to clip Sow’s heels and send her to the ground. The dreadful scrape of metal against armor sends a shock to his ears, and then he’s in the scrum, thrashing about at the henchmen closest him!