Bacon Macleod
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B3? Chapter 261: Escape, pt. 2
🕑 Added 2025-04-18 21:30:04 +0000 UTCOpening his eyes, Kaius saw his companions standing by the door to their jail—prepared to defend against potential intruders.
Porkchop was covered in his jade plate, ready and waiting to descend on anything that threatened to enter.
Kenva was just behind him, staring intently through the wall, watching for guards, while Ianmus stood the furthest back—eyes focused as a small amount of Solar mana wove its way around his hand.
He stood, an action that drew their attention. They looked over to him, waiting.
His eyes roved over his friends—new and old—and he saw the heavy set weight on their shoulders, and the bubbling energy that threatened to spill over at any moment.
They were fraying, he realised.
If he didn’t give them direction—a clear avenue to direct their frustration and efforts—they risked their focus on their goal collapsing in favour of venting their frustrations on their captors. They were doomed if their attempt devolved into trying to wipe the whole compound of the map.
“Okay, people!” he said, straightening his back to project confidence. “The day is here—we’re making it out, or we’ll die trying.”
They grinned at his words.
“I need everyone to remember that we have one true goal here—escape.” he continued, staring deep into their eyes so they were forced to acknowledge his words. “Do not doubt that we will have our pound of flesh, but I need you focused. We’re doomed if we fall completely to vengeance.”
He could tell by the tightening of their eyes that his words had forced them to grapple with their impulses—though they still nodded. It was as good as it would get, he supposed.
“Our first stop is gear—I know where the vault they are storing my sword is, and with a little luck the rest of our gear will be there too. If we can, we’re taking everything.”
“I can get behind robbing them blind.” Kenva replied with a grin.
Kaius returned her smile. “Like I said, we’ll have our pound of flesh—just because escape is our focus doesn’t mean we won’t take every opportunity to make it hurt on the way out.”
“Ianmus—the room is warded, but like I mentioned, I know how to break it. I know you said you can manage eight simultaneous beams, but are you sure you can make them hot enough to deform stone?” he continued, switching his focus to their mage.
Ianmus nodded. “Of course. Though it’ll take me three-quarters of a minute to channel the spell.”
That was more than doable—taking the time to break the ward simultaneously was vital. If they didn’t, they’d be forced to deal with all sorts of alarms and counter-intrusion measures. Whoever had made the formation on the vault was skilled—simply trying to crack it with brute force would trigger several secondary enchantments.
“Fantastic—I'll let you know when to start, just wait for me to point out the glyphs you need to target.”
That was one problem solved. He turned his attention to Kenva—he still didn’t know the full extent of her capabilities.
“You said you’re best with a bow, but can you fight without one?”
The woman winced. “Not until I have some shortswords or at least a knife—most of my skills are ineffective without that at the minimum.”
A shame, but an issue that wouldn’t hamper them overmuch. Porkchop alone would be all they needed until they breached the vault—especially supported by both his and Ianmus’s spells.
“Just keep an eye on any approaching guards—relay anything you see to Porkchop, he’ll be able to pass it along,” he replied.
Finally, he met his brother's eyes.
“You know what to do.”
“Kill quickly, and keep the squishy ones safe.” Porkchop replied with a roll of his eyes, drawing a smile from Kaius.
They were ready—as much as they would ever be.
He stepped forwards, taking the offered key and wardstone from Ianmus, before he unlocked the door to the jail.
Taking a final breath to ready himself, he pushed it open—revealing a hall drenched in a pulsing red light.
It was time to breach the vault.
…
Walking the corridors of their prison under his own power was a surreal experience.
Despite being crafted out of the same blocky granite as the cells, the halls were finished to a far higher standard. Ground decently smooth, it was almost comfortable beneath his uncovered feet. Or, at least, it wasn’t obviously designed to maximise discomfort.
Neither was the hall pervaded by the same dank humidity that had seeped out of every seam in the cells. Dry and free of mould, the air tasted almost fresh—if the word could be used for an underground bunker with questionable ventilation.
He’d seen it before, of course, but only with his mind clouded by toxins, and his limbs bound. Even unarmed and garbed in disintegrating burlap, the absence of those things only heightened the taste of freedom that seemed to waft down the corridors.
That said, it wasn’t exactly an environment that encouraged his relief. Especially with the wardlights that drenched every visible surface in a deep red light. Even and dim, it stripped him of all sense of depth, softening shadows and flatting the hall.
With his team behind him, he crept forwards, his readiness held in the taut tension of his jaw and the rhythmic clenching of his fists. Thankfully, every hallway he had seen so far had been a wide thing—broad enough that Porkchop could walk beside Kenva and Ianmus with ease.
Having to walk ahead or behind the pair would have made his brother’s job far harder if they were rushed at, or ambushed from behind.
This close to their cells, their route was relatively simple—a straight path further into the lowest level, with few branching paths or rooms where remnant stragglers may lie in weight, having yet to join the defence above.
Their dungeon wasn’t the only one in the complex, either. To their left and right, more doors lay open, revealing cells that were an identical copy to the rooms that had held them for the last few months.
Each and every one they passed, Kaius looked back to Kenva to see if she had seen the signs of anything living. Every shake of her head was a relief. It seemed that they were the only ones unlucky enough to have fallen into the clutches of the kidnappers who had stolen them.
A small blessing.
Another quake shook the building and Kaius raised an arm to shield his face from the falling dust, a single wardlight above their head flickering as its formation was momentarily disturbed.
They pushed on.
After passing another dozen or so cells the doors set into the wall stopped while the hallway continued on unbroken—a gentle bend hiding the crossroads that he knew lay ahead.
Though he could still hear yells, they were faint and far off—filtering down from far above. If they were lucky, anyone who should have been occupying this level would already have joined the defence, giving them a clear and safe path to the vault.
He didn’t want to bank on that possibility. Somehow, he doubted that the kind of scum who would join an enterprise like this were particularly valiant. In his experience, their types were much more likely to prioritise their own skin over contributing to a group defense. He wouldn’t be surprised at all to find a few remnants hiding away in their rooms.
Reaching the first junction, Kaius took them left, slowing further as more doors started to stud the walls.
Some of the rooms on this level housed personnel, but even with all of his surreptitious scouting, it was impossible to know how many. Generally, the doors were left closed and he’d only gotten a few glimpses inside them when he’d been lucky enough to be carried past as someone entered or left a room.
Others had different functions—mess halls, meeting rooms, and simple storage. The next level up had more of the same, though he thought that the floor above them housed the vast majority of the staff. Down here seemed to be…overflow—the simple austerity lacking some of the nicer finishes of the other floors.
Now though, with the surprise assault that had been launched against their captors, those doors had been left ajar—procedure abandoned in the guards' haste.
Given that almost every door in this section of the floor was currently sitting ajar, he assumed that they were moving through what amounted to the barracks.
All the more reason for them to be cautious.
Kaius looked backwards and tilted his head at Kenva—while he could creep up and check the rooms for occupants, it was far safer to rely on her strange soul sight to confirm if they were empty or not.
She shook her head. They were clear.
Breathing out in relief, his heart slowed slightly from the staccato beat that had been hammering in his chest since he had splattered the brains of their jailor.
With the quarters seemingly left empty and unguarded in their captors haste to join the compounds defence, they had just been handed a vital opportunity.
As it stood, dressed in rags and stinking of filth and unwashed bodies, anyone who saw them would immediately know that they had escaped. That is, unless they managed to scavenge some of the sturdy uniforms of black canvas and leather that he had seen every occupant of this place wearing.
It wouldn’t exactly be a disguise—there was no way they would be able to bluff there way out, even if they could somehow have hidden the half-tonne lump of muscle and fur that was his brother. However, if they were lucky, seeing a group dressed in uniform would give any guards they ran across pause.
Every extra moment that it took their enemies to process that they were a threat was a moment where they could seize the initiative. With Hateful Nail, even an instant would be enough for him to end a threat.
“Come.” he whispered, waving to his team as he hurried forwards into the first open room.
Waiting just inside the entrance, he ushered them in, before closing the door behind them.
The room was…disappointingly mundane. With the evil that its occupants had so willingly engaged in, he’d almost expected to see half of the room reserved for a shrine dedicated to Nuldyr—laden with grisly effergies as the god of murder, bloodshed, and pillaging demanded.
Instead there were four unmade bunks, covered in haphazard piles of grey woolen blankets, as if the occupants had rushed out of bed without time to make them.
Was it night? He’d long since lost any sense of what the time was, thanks to the lighting in the cells shining a constant sterile white.
If it was, they might have a minor advantage in their eventual flight, but it would do little to help them until they actually got out of the blasted pit of stone.
Looking past the beds, Kaius surveyed the rest of the room. At the back, past a small table littered with knocked over cups, he spotted what he was looking for. Several wardrobes—deep enough that they might have held far more than just clothes.
They’d been flung open—indistinguishable black and grey garments strewing the floor.
Even better, the opposite corner of the far wall held two spouts jutting out of the wall at head height, about six strides apart, with small iron grates set in the stone floor below. A place to wash.
It was almost certainly cold, and notably lacking in any sense of privacy, but with their current circumstances that mattered little.
“What now?” Ianmus asked in a low tone, tugging him from his thoughts.
“We make it less immediately obvious that we are escaped prisoners,” Kaius replied, before he nodded towards the washing station in the back of the room. “You and Kenva go first—I'll pick through the uniforms while Porkchop guards the door.”
Ianmus blanched at his words, before blushing a deep red—the colour standing out starkly on his alabaster skin.
“What? I…Kaius, that would be highly inappropriate.” he hissed, eyes flicking towards their newest companion.
Groaning inwardly at his reaction, Kaius rolled his eyes. Evidently he wasn’t the only one who found it ridiculous, as Porkchop let out a stifled huff of amusement. They quite literally did not have the time or luxury of embarrassment. At the very least, the aen seemed to have her head set well on her shoulders—Kenva had only given him a firm nod.
Before he could even get a word in about the needs of the situation taking precedence over Ianmus’s sense of propriety, Kenva stepped forward and grabbed him by the scruff of his tunic.
“Come on, lanky. We’ve got better shit to worry about than acting like blushing maidens,” Kenva said firmly, tugging the stumbling mage behind her. “I won’t look if you don’t—just keep your eyes on the door.”
Ianmus knocked her hand off of him with a huff, but continued walking towards the washing station anyways. “I was only trying to preserve your modesty!”
“Right now, I’d prefer freedom—don’t have too much modesty on the steppe anyway, not all that useful when it slows down the caravan.” Kenva replied.
Kaius smiled slightly at her words—it was a sentiment he understood. When you lived on the move, simple concerns such as nudity had a tendency to fall to the wayside.
He’d thought Ianmus had come to grips with that, but it seemed having a woman in their midst had brought some of his more inconvenient city-bound sensibilities rearing back up.
Pushing the rest of their conversation to the side, Kaius looked to his brother. Still garbed in his armour, Porkchop had taken up position in front of the door.
“You alright to keep watch?” Kaius asked.
“Of course—just help me get the muck out of my fur when those two are done, it itches terribly.” Porkchop replied, not looking back from his steadfast watch.
Sending his agreement through their bond, he made his way over to the flung open closets—studiously keeping his eyes away from the running spigots across the room. Crouching down, he rifled through them. Looking for anything they could use.
Much to his dissatisfaction, he did not find any conveniently left armour or weapons—there were however, plenty of clothes. Enough to meet their needs, at least.
He still kept searching.
As he pulled out a pile of leather jerkins, Kaius found what he was hoping for.
A set of knives, safely slotted in holsters that had been hung from a hook in the corner of the cupboard.
They weren’t weapons—with their thick spines and handspan-length blades, they were clearly tools of utility.
But a knife was still a knife, and with one he could kill.
Comments
ManguKing
I get that you love to expand endlessly on the setting, but this is supposed to be an escape arc. Talking outloud, describing how the walls and formations are, showering? Needless details that actually kill the immersion rather than add
Steven Wilkins
with few branching paths or rooms where remnant stragglers may lie in weight, having yet to join the defence above. weight -> wait
A B
Edit suggestion: compound of the map -> compound off the map best with a boy -> best with a bow
