Uphill Battle

[Carthrat]

Whether it came from this body or from his own is pretty meaningless.

"Two? That's nothing. They're just non-breds, surely," snorts Tom. "Alright. I am the leader here. And soon enough, we're going to do in with their bullshit once and for all."

He briefly surveys the numbers avaliable to him!

[Brian]

Counting himself, there are twenty soon-to-be-liberated thralls here.  They seem surprised at the idea of one of them declaring himself a leader, but they accept it.  "Okay," they say together.  "You are leader now."

The former leader contender smiles, as though the burden of thinking were taken from him.  "Now what?"

[Carthrat]

"There ARE no other leaders but me," continues Tom, pacing back and forth.
"You don't take orders from those others anymore, only me. You all hear that?

"We're gonna get together, head up to their.. house, and I will *personally* find those two bastards and cave in their faces. We've got work to do- and they can't stop us.

"Grab anything you can use as a weapon- a knife, a solid fence or bedpost- anything, and rip up the sheets- get pieces of them and curl them up into little balls, about big enough to fit in your ears. Hurry!"

[Brian]

The other thralls quickly comply with Tom's commands, swiftly assembling earplugs and a good stack of cudgels.

OOC: A cudgel is a weapon anyone can use without a familiarity.  It gives +1 O.C.V., and deals 4d6 normal damage.  It's STR requirement is 10, so every 5 STR above that adds +1d6 normal damage.

[Carthrat]

"You all listen to me!" yells Tom, gripping a heavy wooden joint of some kind, and pointing outside the door.

"We're going after them, to that meeting place! Nothing will stop us! When I point and scream-"

He demonstrates, pointing towards the exterior of the building- "We charge and beat those fuckers down! They'll break and scatter! And more importantly, when I hold up my hand-" He holds up his hand, with a stern expression, with the palm facing towards the men- "-then, that's the sign to STOP the violence and take out the earplugs."

"That's it. That's all there is. We can't be stopped by bullets or swords-" he thumps his chest- "-so there's nothing to fear- but their orders. And we will not hear their words!

"When we fight, we scream! So loud that it's all you hear!"

OOC: Dumping my influence into presence for this one, making it PRE 14.

[20:13] <Chibi-Suu> Carthrat throws tama for 3d6 for presence hilarity! --> [ 3d6=9 ]{9}

[Brian]

While stupid seeming, the men are able to follow orders, and nod vigorously, doing exactly as instructed.  Then they follow Tom.

[Carthrat]

Tom.. heads outside, club in hand, and begins marching off in the direction he saw those two well-dressed fellows travel!

[Brian]

The first obstacle is the gate, but the men follow Tom's lead, and that means ... walking through the gate.  Past that is a lane running parallel to the barracks area, and another leading off towards where the bargaining Victorian gents ran off.  That path is about fifteen feet wide, dirt, lined with white stones, and tall hedges.

Ahead is a wrought-iron gate, and behind that the looming bulk of a mansion, mostly hidden behind some very full oak trees.  There's a pair of guards at the gate.  Or, presumably they're guards.  They're chatting and smoking cigarettes, though both break off and stare (at about one hundred feet away) when they see their thralls marching on them.

[Carthrat]

"Earplugs," instructs Tom. "Take 'em off when I make the signal to stop- and be ready to charge."

Oh shiiiiiiiiit this is going to be bad.

Not bother to stick in his own, and after giving the people behind a few moment to bolster their ears, Tom.. points at the guards, and yells in this burly, unfamiliar voice-

"CH-YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGE!"

Hefting his club, he tears out in front, face a beacon of indiginant fury!

OOC: I'm doing a presence attack (more to freak out the guards at this point), then sinking 10 points into not-being-vulnerable, and four into Martial Strike!

[Brian]

Of the two guards, one manages to keep his cool in the face of thirty charging, and apparently berserk, incoherently screaming thralls.  He swiftly draws his sword, takes up a defensive stance, and before Tom is able to attack, expertly slashes his saber across Tom's uncovered chest.

Tom flinches at the painful impact that feels like it's going to bruise, but doesn't even break the skin.  And then it doesn't matter, because no amount of bravery is going to stand to twenty huge and angry men with clubs, if there's only two defenders.

By the time the fury ends, the gate has been smashed down, and the guards are thoroughly dead.  The cry has been raise, however, and the fat man -- some sort of administrator? -- rushes out of the house, screaming bloody murder.  Probably.

Hard to hear him over the charging, howling men.  He doesn't hold up long, either, though when his thin companion emerges, his mouth compresses into a tight frown, and he barks something -- also lost beneath the tide of noise -- and produces some strange sci-fi looking device from beneath his cloak.

It's probably a talisman.  It looks like it's got a handle, and some switches, and a number of antennae protruding.  He punches some of the switches, there's an abrupt (and truly deafening) *crack* noise that causes the windows of the house to burst outward in a shimmering spray of glass, and then ... he's gone.

[Carthrat]

Before giving the order to cease, or the like, Tom glances from side to side, quickly taking in the interior of the mansions grounds- especially for, say, a barracks, or other human figures...

[Brian]

It doesn't take long to find the guards; there's a small building within the gates that serves as their barracks, most likely.  At the commotion, five of them rush out, all wearing what look like eighteenth century military uniforms, two with muskets, three with sabers.

[Carthrat]

"You, there!" calls Tom, stepping ahead of his mob and addressing the guards.

"Throw down your arms and run, or you'll all meet your end today! We are free- you cannot stop us!"

OOC: dropping 5 into presence for presence 10, keeping my vulnerability down as usual. Additionally, I hope to have recovered my STUN by now.

[Brian]

Tom attempts to intimidate the guards.  Three of them -- the saber-wielders -- do bolt.  The musketeers drop to firing stance with trained precision, aim, and fire.

There's the 'crack' of a fired shot, and two musketballs go wide.  One slams into the earth, bounces up from the yard, and bounces harmlessly off the chest of the 'subleader', the other simply goes off into the sky.

And then it doesn't really matter, because the musketeers throw their guns and run.  It'd take too long to refill the guns with their powder horns.  Still, their true purpose comes to light:

A procession of fleeing servants, chambermaids, and one young woman in a frilly gown run across the yard.  The guards were just trying to buy them time to get away, it looks like.  There's probably not enough time to reach them before they reach the carriage house, but at least no one seems interested in staying around.

[Carthrat]

Tom holds up a hand to his men- he wouldn't have chased those people anyway, though the soldiers wouldn't have any idea of that at all.

Once the earplugs are gone, he approaches the 'subleader'- "Alright. First, take half of us and head over to the barracks; try and get everyone some decent clothes.. if any, uh, fit, I guess.. and gather up any weapons or equipment you find there. Check around the building, too, see if you can find any horses, for that matter. If you find any soldiers still running around, don't hesitate- knock 'em out."

He glances down at the body of that fat man, swallowing rather harshly, but he steps over it and looks at the rest of his troop. "All of you, you're coming inside this place with me."