More questions in the dark: How many ways into a sealed room?

Johann roughly shifted his grip on the prisoner and caught Wanda's eye,

"So let me get this straight. This boss of his retired to that chamber with the gem and closed the door. No-one came in or out until after his screams were heard. There's either subtler magic affot than you can detect or there's another way in."

He paused and glared down at the Tilean,

"Or this pig is the culprit and knows more than he is telling..."

Johann turned his head and beckoned Kirsten over,

"Is there a chance you missed some kind of secret exit in there? What lies behind the tapestry?"

Johann: More than one way to skin a Tilean

Johan looked up as Wanda re-entered the room. The way she strode across the room, her face set with a stony determination was new and he wondered at how much her horizons must have been widened in the past few hours.

It was only with mild surprise, closely followed by the usual laconic smile, when the Enchantress' hand rested on his and exerted a gentle pressure to force his blade a little closer to his hapless captive's throat.

Gathering a handful of lank hair in his fist, Johann slowly and deliberately drew the villain's head back to further expose his pale throat to the cold touch of the blade. Ensuring too that the Tilean had seen that both Wanda and he meant business, Johann whispered in a low growl.

"Best do as the boss says. I'm not sure what's worse - being skinned alive with this fine array of tools you have here, or by one of her curses..."

Ways of making you talk...

Johann swept his eyes around the room - Wanda, wild eyed and poised above her captive; the paraphenalia of torture hanging from the walls and the bloody mess in the adjoining chamber.

Re-adjusting his previous assessment on Wanda's capabilities, he gestured for her to step back with a sympathetic smile. She had obviously been through an ordeal and on her own too.

Johann quietly drew his sword and assisted the burly hostage's awakening by gently placing the cool steel of the flat of the blade against his throat.

"Now then, good sir - looks like our boss did go easy on you after all. I'm not sure I'll be able to muster the same restraint."

Nodding at the various torture instruments that hung from the walls, the grim boatman continued,

"I'd very much like some answers as to what exactly is going on down here and I see we have the tools to hand to persuade you, should your tongue need loosening..."

Johann Concurs

"Agreed."

Johann nodded his assent, glad to be relieved of his burly charge and ruefully scratching his itching back.

"Lets see what Wanda and Malmir have come up with - we must be getting close to this accursed box, although I don't like the sound of what might lie ahead..."

Meanwhile... Johann gets an itch

Johann was somewhat relieved that Werner had broken the increasingly awkward silence. For some reason only banalities about the current state of the weather had popped into his head while he sought for something menacing to say.

It was getting difficult to keep himself fired up, ready for combat and as the minutes crawled by, adrenalin crept away from his limbs, leaving a hollow and empty ache in his joints. Johann wrinkled his nose - his hostage's stench wasn't getting any better either.

Then there was the itch. He must have caught some small barb in his jerkin, or else some rough thread had worked its way loose. Whatever it was, it was now tormenting a spot in the small of his back. Not wishing his captive to think him fidgety or distracted, Johann shifted his weight roughly and spoke,

"Aye, the big man speaks true enough. We have no personal interest in your affairs, whatever they may be down here. Let our bosses talk it over, while we all have a breather. I dare say our little friend may be of assistance with your mate down there, were you to lower those weapons..."

He tried not to grimace as the spot on his back began to tingle once more.

Making No Headway: A Brave Front...

"We've got your back. Go easy on 'em eh, boss..." Johann grinned wolfishly at Wanda, as he gave his hostage's arm another good twist in its socket.

A Bold Plan: Johann tries a little gentle persuasion...

As the seconds ticked inexorably by and the standoff continued, Johann tightened his grip around his captive. Forcing the big Foreman's arm further up his back and increasing the pressure around his throat, the boatman leaned in and between gritted teeth, hissed an ultimatum to his hostage,

"Listen Tilean, if you hold any sway over these men and any value on your life, I suggest you order them to lower their weapons. We already have the abbatoir's stink about us and I have no qualms about any further butchery. I have snapped the neck of many a brigand stouter than you and my friend here isn't known for having the steadiest trigger finger in the world..."

A Hive of Activity: No quarter given...

Johann raised a hand tentatively to his wounded cheek. The dull, pulsing ache and unhealthy warmth emanating from it put him no mood for subterfuge or diplomacy.

"My vote is for force. If Malmir is right about their numbers and condition, I say we keep watch until they are all together. A few crossbow bolts and an arrow or two will further serve to dent their morale. Then we can ask questions of the survivors... if any."

Deeper and Down: Bait or Bluff?

"Well then, if we are to follow Werner's plan, and it is a good one, do Harbull and Wanda agree to be our sheep in wolf's clothing and go down there first?"

Johann glanced at the pair and smile reassuringly,

"I can promise we'll do our best to make sure you don't end up as lambs to the..."

Thinking better of his turn of phrase he turned to Malmir,

"You have a keen ear and eye and tread softly - can you and Kirsten shadow them, while us ruder folk bring up the rear"

He grinned wryly at Werner,

"No offense intended friend, but you and I are probably best employed in the vanguard, where we can intervene once surprise isn't needed any longer."

Deeper and Down: Its a Stick Up

"Hmm, I agree with Wanda on one thing. I'm not sure these sewer rats will want to be interrupted by a bunch of unfamiliar faces. Sounds like they're in a hurry to leave."

Johann nodded his head in the direction they had just come from and went on,

"... must be a reason for that and I wonder if old One-Arm back there has anything to do with their haste. I would also wager that our prize might be in one of those crates that are being carted about down there."

He inspected his crossbow closely.

"I think one of the stealthier among us should see what we're up against. If we have the upper hand in numbers then we sneak down there and hold them up with our crossbows. I for one would like some answers. Whether they are forthcoming or not, it'll be easier to tie the thieving scum up, or otherwise render them harmless than engage in another pitched battle - not that I'm too interested in any of their life stories..."

Deadly Quiet: Bloodied but Unbowed...

Johann nodded his thanks to Harbull for his efforts - he didn't want to hurt the little fellow's feelings but the boatman wondered whether more dirt and infection was being pressed into the wound. These were not the ideal environs for apothecary of any kind. With one hand holding the dressing the Halfling had prepared against his cheek, Johann stood and sheathed his sword, after wiping the blade clean on one of the huddled forms lying nearby.

As Kirsten and Malmir prepared to investigate the sounds emanating from the next room, Johann quietly and slowly loaded one of the dead Tilean's crossbows and pocketed half the bolts. Once bitten, twice shy was how the saying went and as more violent confrontations were sure to lie ahead, he had every intention of going into them with an unfair advantage.

He pocketed the bloody rag and made his way over to stand by Malmir. He would show off his badge of honour so that the next bunch of lowlife curs would know he meant business. With both hands cradling the crossbow, he readied himself for action...

Murder in the Dark: From Boatman to Killer

Slowly the room swam back into focus and the roar of his rushing pulse abated. Johann sucked in long shuddering breaths, every joint and muscle aching from the adrenalin that had coursed through his body seconds earlier. Tentatively, he brought a hand to his wounded cheek and winced at the searing pain.

He staggered across the room and slumped into one of the chairs, which still retained the warmth of its previous owner. Attempting a hollow smile as the welcome figure of Harbull approached, the old boatman leaned his head forward to allow the diminutive healer a better view.

As the Halfling fussed and tutted over his patient, Johann mulled over what he had just done. Curiously it was neither remorse, nor jubilation that he felt over the gruesome killing of the Tilean cut-throat. Instead a deep emptiness filled him, from which he could muster no emotion for the man he had fought.

The hatred that had burned within him in the dark and fetid passage way now only smoldered in the background. The man had been alive and now he was not - simple as that. It could easily have been the other way. Johann's eyes flickered over to the headless corpse and struggled to visualise it as the living, breathing person it had been moments ago. It - the body had already become an it, a thing.

Johann resolved not to become an it himself...

Bedlam in the Asylum: A bit too close...

Lunging forward, Johann's desperate slashes failed to connect with his opponent. His arms seemed not to want to obey what his eyes were telling him and the Tilean jumped back out of reach of his flailing sword.

 He felt the knife blade before he saw it. The cut-throat had sprung forward as quickly as he had stepped back and only then had it flashed before Johann's face. He felt the skin of his cheek split and a numbing warmness began to spread across his face. Something flapped uselessly that shouldn't have.

A sudden rage filled him and despite an ill-advised shake of the head, the fine red mist that had erupted from his wound wouldn't clear from his vision. Barely aware of Malmir leaping to his aid, Johann redoubled his attack, bringing his sword down again and again in furious hack after hack... 

The Coiled Spring: Up close and personal...

With battle joined, Johann was operating on some instinctive, almost feral level of consciousness. He was aware of a blur of bodies diving for cover, the whistle and thud of arrows and bolts. Werner's axe whistled through the air in slow motion, cleaving the shower of embers cascading from his torch. A hostile face loomed out of the confusion...

Bringing his sword up into a lunge, Johann let his momentum carry him on into his opponent. Suddenly everthing jolted back into focus as the shock of the impact travelled up his sword arm.

He started at the sudden din, as the sounds of the struggle returned to his ears, barely having the time to wonder at their temporary absence or the fact that his throat was hoarse with a cry he was unaware of shouting.  Shaking such incongruous thoughts from his head, Johann jerked his sword back from his adversary's torso. The man staggered backwards clutching at the wound, reaching for his own weapon.

Johann wasn't about to give him the time to react and pressed home his attack. Resuming his battlecry, he rushed forward bringing his sword down in a wide, swingeing arc towards the Tilean's kneck.

Refusal: Charge!!

Malmir had sprung into action like a bolt from the blue and even with his quick reflexes, Johann found himself playing catchup. The apparent rending of Harbull's bowels behind him only served to help spur him on into an uncertain and possibly bloody fate through the doorway.

The Elf deftly stepped aside having loosed an arrow into the room and Johann charged silently through the gap created with sword ready...

Awkward!: Shrugs, nods and meaningful looks

 Starting at the unexpected hiss that issued from the Elf, Johann grinned wryly. He had been somewhat transfixed by another wantom display from their little urban wildcat, despite the dangerous situation they, and more immediately, she now faced.

This flickered into annoyance, both at himself for the distraction, and at Malmir - he knew Elves were renowned for their sensitive hearing, but surely they hadn't made that much noise when the guard's voice rang out.

Dismissing that thought, he looked to Malmir as the Elf readied his bow and nodded his assent. Not that Malmir had noticed, distracted as he also was by Kirsten's alluring bluff.

Johann turned and by way of nods and meaningful looks, hopefully conveyed the message to Werner and the others that action might be required any second now. Tilting his head at Malmir, body held ready and taut as his bowstring, Johann intimated silently to Werner that it might be best to follow the Elf's lead should Kirsten need assistance... 

Honour among Thieves: Johann's Last Rites

Johann tightened his grip as the wounded man's whole body shuddered and heaved with a deep wracking cough. As the fit subsided he leaned forward again and spoke softly once more into his charge's ear,

"If it brings you any succour, consider yourself amongst those you might consider friends. Your death will not go unmarked."

The man stiffened with the effort of his final breath before settling back in final repose.

Johann looked up from the body he still cradled,

"Malmir and Kirsten, will you head up the party - keep your eyes peeled for these secret signs. Lets go hunt some Valentinas..."

An offer of help: Hot under the collar...

Johann caught his breath. Not from the headlong dash into danger, nor from the impact of his landing by their would be assailant. His ring-side seat had meant that Kirsten's performance had almost had its intended effect on him as well as the wounded man he held. By Haleth, that lass had some front - in more ways than one, he thought.

Shifting his weight slightly so that his grip on the wounded man changed imperceptibly from restraint to support, Johann swallowed to shift the lump that had gathered in his throat and threatened to make his voice hoarse. He leaned forward and spoke gruffly in his charge's ear,

"... and don't try anything else funny - our little friend tending to your wounds may not bite, but I can't vouch for the wildcat over there."

Richer Blood: Kirsten Passes Comment

Kirsten didn't blame him. She didn't want to be in this room either, but she knew an excuse when she saw one. And here I thought elves were supposed to be immune to disease, regardless? She was beginning to wonder what else she'd heard about elves that hadn't been true. She turned to watch Malmir leave the room, surreptitiously eyeing his lithe elven butt as he left. Nope, no sign of a tail there, she realised.

After a moment, she flushed. Now that was stupid. Especially given the way he looks at me. Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she spoke to Werner in a wry, somewhat amused tone of voice. Deliberately just audible enough that the departing elf could not fail to hear:

"Observe: our fearless leader departs."

She knew she wasn't (strictly speaking) being very fair to the elf. He had been in front -or very near to it- throughout all their explorations so far. But then, so had she. And although every inch of her body quivered with the need to flee this room, she was still here.

She smiled at Werner, and held the torch out to him.

"Hold this for one second please, while I follow your example."

Smiling gratefully, she used the opportunity to pull her black neck-scarf over her face and mouth, as she would have done on one of her late night "expeditions" and pulled tight at her gloves, ensuring the fit was sufficiently tight to limit the risk that she might drop her sword.

Taking the torch back from Werner with a grateful smile, she was careful not to step into the blood or touch the body, and used a precious throwing knife to lift or move items on the table and to open drawers, all the while holding the torch high in her other hand to illuminate their efforts.

"Be careful Werner. My palms are itching, and I'm not sure if it's just the state of that corpse or something else."

Clues in the Blood: No light at the end of another tunnel...

Johann was getting used to the routine. Dangerous! What happened if this time the gloomy corridor he kept watch on harboured those who meant them harm? He continued to peer into the darkness, eyes and ears alert for any sign of movement or sound.

The crash and burst of light from Wanda's dropped lantern did nothing to relieve the tension. The poor girl obviously felt out of her depth and the oppressive atmosphere down in this twilight world was beginning to tell on her.

"No matter, I don't think your fumble has alerted anyone" Johann softly whispered to her, " Here, stand by this doorway and be ready to give me light should we have any unwelcome guests approach. If their eyes are accustomed to the dark, another sudden blast of light may dazzle them and give us time to get our house in order. Have you any sorcery up your sleeve that can be prepared for such a meeting?"

He knew he always felt better when he knew his role and could make himself useful - he wagered it was no different for her.

As he turned back to his watch he listened carefully to Malmir's discoveries and plan. Smiling at the Elf's infectious enthusisam, Johann replied,

"Agreed. We have this exit covered, don't we Wanda. We'll just have to keep our heads down if there's a couple of crossbows on the loose. Just be ready to come on the run if we call, and we'll do likewise. Harbull, keep up the good work and keep watch on our escape route."

The darkness made his eyes swim, strange shapes formed and unformed as he tried to make out what lay ahead - Johann almost yearned for the clash of blades. If only so that they would know what they were up against...