One In The Hand

[Red Thunder]

As if they weren't pressed for time enough. As Tamerlin darted passed him, upset child clutched tightly in his arms with more worry than its own mother apparently cared to heap upon it, Quinn stared back at the pleading Winowa. Rather, past her at the retreating form of the Dispenser. Outside. It was headed outside. In addition to extracting Travis from the maze of tunnels within the mansion, now the two Thieves had to flee the premises before the Shadow obscured figure found them. Morbidly curious to see the neglectful mother receive her due, he nevertheless tore himself from the scene, missing as he did the almost casual thrust forward of the scimitar as it mixed Winowa's blood with that of Geralt. Smoke began creeping into the hallway behind them, evidence of the fiery destruction that threatened the Poswell estate.

"They've seen us," the lead Dispenser muttered, still staring down at the Lady's corpse blankly.

"No witnesses," its companion replied. The second Dispenser stretched out his hand and touched the rich brown paneling of the hallway wall with a single finger. Black strands like vines shot from it like lightning, tracing its way across the surface in the direction the Thieves had gone. Deep ruts appeared where the tendrils touched, and an ash-like powder crumbled away. The Shadow Mage's arm began to wither and crumble itself, beginning at the originating finger and clawing its way toward the shoulder. The first Dispenser turned and, without hesitation, sliced cleanly through the second's shoulder, dropping the dying limb to the floor. It quickly dissolved into dust.

"Finality." The second held his left hand over his stump, the smell of burning flesh filling the air. For the first time since they'd arrived, the armed Dispenser chuckled quietly.

"It is just a beginning."

The Servant's Quarters was as ill cared for as the rest of the House. Less so, as there was no need to put it on display to any well to do visitor. Had they time to spare, Quinn might have clicked his tongue in disapproval. The walls were covered in grime, the paint only present in ancient patches, and more than one floorboard had fallen away with the rot of untended years. The doors all seemed the same to his weary eye.

"Tam?! Which door?!"

Behind, for the moment unnoticed, bits of the wall began to fall away, crumbling into dust in an advancing line of utter blackness.

 

[Doctor Jax]

"Aaaaaaah," Tam said, turning left, then right, then left again as he tried to decide which door he was going to end up using. They were short on time, not to mention distance, from the hulking Dispensers who had so far managed to wreak absolute havoc on the Poswell household. It was hard to tell what they could actually want, or if Tam could give it to them. The offending parties had been dealt with, and at the moment, they were mere accessories.

He couldn't pick wrong. If they got stuck in some pantry, they were going to end up on the wrong end of a sword. The child in his arms screamed for its mother, and Tam gritted his teeth as he finally picked a door - the right. He vaguely remembered the layouts of other servants quarters, and the right was always the path most trafficked, hopefully leading into the kitchens.

His gamble paid off in full. Not only was there a kitchen, there was a poker in the fire, long butchering knives in the block, and a whole pot of water on the boil. However, Tam knew he'd need a little more time to figure out where the true exit was. The kitchens always had a service passage out for deliveries, so that meat and cheese and everything else could be hauled in, but where was it in this kitchen...

"Look for a large door," Tam ordered, racing to grab the nearest knife off a block. The kitchen was still a bit dark, besides the fire, and that could potentially aid their escape. "There's always a delivery door outside. Hopefully they won't have blocked it off."

 

[Red Thunder]

The kitchen door slammed, Quinn for the moment more panicked and rushed than cautious. Their enemies knew where they were; what point was there in caution? He'd been constrained to follow Tam's lead, his own knowledge of the nobilities' servant society distinctly lacking. Not pressed for time, he may have attempted to rectify that lack. Now, death pressed in uncomfortably close.

"A delivery door?" Door. Window. The only thing that mattered was whether it offered an escape. A bench, worn from generations of shifting buttocks as servants rested tired legs, squatted just beside the entryway. Grunting, Quinn lifted it to shove it beneath the door's latch in an impromptu brace. "You sure it wasn't just outside the-?"

His face paled, and he stepped back from the door. Black powder began falling from the door frame, the aged wood giving way to a fine ash as it crumbled. Deep furrows crept past the dissolved frame, ash falling as stone and wood alike fell away. They moved quickly, haphazardly, spreading across the ceiling in vine like patterns. As the structure weakened, increasingly larger pieces of debris started falling. The door's integrity failed, its unnaturally rotting planks collapsing to the stone floor below. From behind the door, the darkness became more, and Quinn knew they'd been found.

"Shit!" He scrambled for the knife block, grabbing a large butcher knife in his left hand and the poker in his right. "Find that door! I'll-"

He'd do what? Slash shadows? Persuade them away? Plead? A few more steps back put him on the hearth of the fire.

"Just go, Tam!"

The blood soaked tip of a sword pierced what was left of the rotting door, and the wood fell, revealing blackness.

"No witnesses," the Dispenser uttered with finality, still positioned in the hallway, clutching his stump as flames licked the walls about him. "No liabilities."

 

[Doctor Jax]

Tam scrambled about the kitchen. Service door, service door, service door, service door. He continually cursed their lack of planning, their lack of preparation, their lack of really anything solid that would assure their escape out of this place. Yet, bemoaning that would do him no good now. Quinn was trusting him - trusting him! - to get them out of here, and quickly. The Dispensers would not stand on ceremony.

His prognosis was unfortunately correct. The door behind was beginning to dust away as the Dispenser on the other side attempted to break through. The ceiling and walls behind crumbled to ash, and Tam stared, awestruck. So rarely did he see combat - it was jarring, terrifying even. Move, idiot! Do something!

The child in his arms squalled, and it broke his trance. Tam's eyes flew up to the ceiling where a low chandelier hung from the rotting boards and stone.

"Quinn! The chandelier! Pull it down, take the ceiling with it!" Tam ordered as he scanned the doors. Would it serve to crush them as well? Maybe - but it might also give them another few minutes.

Tam, meanwhile, found what he was looking for with a sigh of relief. The service door looked like every other pantry, other than a single sign - an 'x' burnt into it for easy finding by the illiterate staff. Tam began to jiggle the door open, but to his dismay he found that it was jammed hard, no doubt from disuse, given the state of the Poswell family. It wouldn't come upon by Tam's thew alone, not while he was holding a babe, neither.