[PQ] with our backs against the wall

D e i m o s

Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass

The wrath, the contempt, the pure, utter loathing fueled him – and because Amalia had insisted he not go out and get himself killed striving to take down the Merciless and her ridiculous, overwhelming threats, he put himself to work in other venues. This was slower, more calculating, requiring action amidst the machinations and meticulous, scrupulous efforts, and not simply taking his weapons and destroying everything in his path. It would’ve been cathartic, to live as he had in Helovia – to bombard, to devastate, to ruin, to embody existence as a moving weapon, realms and individuals intimidated by his mere presence. But that wasn’t the way here. In the present, it didn’t really matter. The significance in these infernal moments was Amalia’s pending arrest; orchestrated, once again, by an ominous declaration from Zariah, leading him and the others down to the furtive basement. If there was a way to dig through the walls, clamber along underground, and find a way to the prison from below, it meant they had a means, a clarity, a way to possibly break any of their allies out (or in his notions: completely destroy the monstrosity, a layer of rebellion and insurrection). He’d informed others of his intentions, and then proceeded to the basement, carrying the equipment he thought might be necessary to the upcoming tasks. While he could create artifacts, he also theorized it’d be easier to bring a lot of the tools without having to waste his enchantments, and his bag of holding, graciously granted to him by Remi, contained a number of objects: smaller spades, helmets, flint, bandages in case of potential cave-ins, food, water, and an assemblage of other articles. His arms had carried over several shovels and buckets, then, based on the amount of equipment he required, he returned a couple more times with pieces of wood and longer portions of lumber. He'd grabbed one of Amalia's saws and added that to his pile of goods. While he waited for allies to arrive, he lit several lanterns, leaving them on the table for the individuals to grab. Zuriel had come along with him, but he’d keep her out of the tunnels for as long as he could, insisting she would watch from the impending opening. ----- PQ to potentially dig a tunnel beneath the prison! 1. Remi 2. Jigano 3. Rory No posting order! For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate

A trio of ravens meandered their way across the Settlement, resting on a roof before taking flight again and finding another perch, following no particular path until their flight brought them to the shop of a baker, and they dropped into the back yard to hunt for discarded crumbs - or the mice that fed on them, if the little rodents weren't swift enough to find cover. Two ravens continued their search for snacks while the third - a greyish bird, perhaps ancient or just unwell - hopped towards a half-hidden cellar door.

A tall, slender man made his way down the stairs instead, skin and hair darkened by art and artifice, clothing plain and unmemorable. He swept off his hat and eyepatch as he made his way to the bottom, straightening his slouched posture and stretching the crick from his neck before he gave Deimos a solemn nod and headed for one of the provided shovels. "Are we going to try and connect into the Underground from here?" he asked his friend curiously. "And then try to come up beneath the jail from there? So Zariah can't trace the tunnel back to Amalia's bakery if she finds it?"

His frustrations remained—he was a restless creature stalking his own farmstead, doing all his usual farmwork not with relish but out of a nervous, pained necessity. The hay had to be dried and stored. The Leafchange crops needed to be tended and harvested. He always bred a few goats for some late kiddings, and they were just around the corner.

But all he wanted to do was rush into the Greatwood, find out more about this blight and scrub it from every surface he saw.

He wanted to converse with the Gods and find some way to shape all the raw, untapped anger into something useful.

He wanted to be able to protect his friends and his family, but all he felt was powerless.

He slipped into the bakery basement shortly after the raven, a timing that was unintended. He blinked as his eyes adjusted from daylight to the dim-and-lantern flicker of the basement, reaching up as he went, pulling his hair out of its ponytail and running his fingers through it. This sort of labor needed a braid.

"That's a fair point," he agreed absently, patiently working out a snarl of blond locks. "What's your plan, Deimos?" As he waited for instructions he finally untangled his hair, and began to plait it up neatly.

Я

"Sorry I am late—" Remi called downwards, the sound of his voice followed by a rather dishevelled looking alchemist. There were bags beneath his eyes, his curls were an unkempt mess, and it appeared as though he had slept in his clothes (he had). Still, there was a sunny smile on his face as he reached the bottom, nodding a wordless hallo to those assembled so as not to interrupt.

Shoving his hands into his pockets (but not before stifling a yawn behind one of them), Remi leaned against one of the walls to listen as Deimos explained their tasks.

D e i m o s

Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass

They came – one by one, intent upon helping and excavating their way into prison wards and walls; just in case one of their own ended up in its threshold, just in case disaster plunged and they’d be faced with a cold, cruel, harsh reality that all rebellions had to start with singular sparks. He nodded at each individual, only truly arching his brow at Remi’s lengthy yawn, before corresponding and answering inquiries already taking hold in the basement’s echoes. “Eventually. This is likely the shortest route. We can go back through the underground if need be.” If they were even successful this time – these hours – these days. His eyes lifted to the wall they’d have to infiltrate, mind reeling to the mounds of dirt, earth, and soil layered between them and the aforementioned destination, his words solid and certain, even if the outcome wasn’t. “I thought about making some sort of illusion too, so no one could tell from where we had come from.” Except he didn’t have that particular brand of magic or incantations; but perhaps they could create it from their own hands and efforts, without need for invocations’ skills. If they had any other ideas or notions, they would be free to voice them. Now, however, they did. He turned to Remi, indicating the surface they’d have to expose first. “Remi, could you move the stone, and perhaps even hinge it, so it works like a door?” From the outside, or the inside, he wanted it to appear as nothing; nothing out of the ordinary, nothing beyond the surface, nothing except to those who knew where to look. He’d leave some sort of marker just in case, but otherwise chose furtive over the known. “Once Remi is finished, then we can start digging. We want it large enough to fit our bodies through at first. I have buckets that we can load with dirt. We can deposit and spread them along the garden, so we do not have any suspicious mounds lying somewhere.” He handed out the helmets already, pressed for safety and time, grabbing hold of a shovel and waiting for Remi to adhere. -- Remi first please, then we can start digging! For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate

Я

If asked, Remi might have suggested just magicing their way through the prison. But of course that would likely only work once, and no doubt Remi would be hauled in by Zariah as the perpetrator (and be expected to fix it). Even if they never had need of the tunnels as they were originally designed, having a place even more secretive to hide themselves away if need be was never a bad option. Especially not with things as they were.

"Of course." Remi replied agreeably enough, moving towards the wall. Glancing at those assembled almost all of whom were taller than he, Remi used Deimos is a rough approximation as he raised his hands to the stone. Closing his eyes and pressing his ear near as if listening to something within, lines began to appear in an almost-rectangle around him. A mixture of earth magic and transmutation kept the rock from shattering and helped remove it in on piece. Finally, telekinesis helped hold it there as his fingers (blindly, basically) moved to the left to attach hinges. This time creation and transmutation were used, and quickly three sturdy hinges were attached to the wall allowing it to neatly swing open and closed.

Exhaling a weary breath—it was not a lot of magic, but after the days and nights Remi had had recently, it felt like far more of a strain than it was—he stepped back with a weak smile. "There are ways of hiding this completely as you said...I have no illusion magic either but...I could make something to conceal it. "

Jigano flashed Rory a brilliant smile, even though the roughened appearance of his disguise. Long fingers itched to help the farmer with his hair, sliding through sun-kissed tresses to soothe and straighten... but this was neither the place nor the time. He contented himself with drifting to stand next to his partner, close enough to feel his warmth without being quite so forward as to touch him without invitation. Their dance in public was always a little more reserved, a little more fraught with uncertainty as to how far was acceptable, and the bard tended to err on the side of caution.

Remi's entrance was met with a frown of concern at how tired the younger man looked, but Jigano smoothed it away into a friendly nod, a wry quirk of his lips at how much stress they were all under. That was why they had gathered here today after all, wasn't it? If they hadn't been so worried they might have all been getting better rest.

He nodded at Deimos's explanation, tilting his head thoughtfully as it was expanded. "I don't know anyone who can create illusions," he admitted after Remi had spoken, his feat of earth magic impressive enough on its own. "But I'll see if I can keep an ear out for someone who can be trusted." That was the key thing, after all: knowing who to trust.

For the moment, however, the task was clear and simple enough. 'Noodle arms' he might have been, but helping Rory around the farm had added muscle beneath his golden skin, even if it wasn't obvious. He slipped on a pair of gloves and grabbed a shovel, digging in to the earth revealed behind Remi's new door and shifting it to the waiting buckets. There was room for another to work beside him as long as they were careful with their shovels, and he was glad before long that the basement was cool and shadowed in the pleasant Leafchange day.

The idea of a door was an interesting one, but also a good one—and a very convenient way of solving their first, and maybe biggest, problem. Rory had been watching the wall as he braided his hair, fingers deftly winding the hair around itself, thinking about how they were to break into the earth beyond the stonework without causing too much damage.

But it turned out Deimos had that covered, and Rory hung back uselessly as the Alchemist got to work with his wondrous and extensive repertoire of magic. What was that man not capable of? And what kind of toll did it take on him?

Rory had never heard of such powerful individuals before the Outlanders came. Was there a price for the sheer amount of power they wielded?

That was a question for some rainy day, though, as Remi soon finished with his work. Rory followed Jigano's lead in pulling on some gloves and grabbing a shovel, bracing himself as he set to work next to the other man, hacking away at the wall beyond the freshly made door and letting the soil fall onto the basement floor.

D e i m o s

Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass

It was intriguing to watch Remi work, pressing his ear to the rock, to the earth, removing it one piece, hinging it together – the Reaper witnessed this all in rapt fascination, standing out of the way and to the side, donning a helmet over his head, gloves on his hands, and readying his shoveling materials. “Well done,” he announced, but listening to Remi exhale shakily, another notion towards fatigue and exhaustion, he motioned towards the table. “You may rest if you need it,” indicating the chairs nearby. He’d already done quite a bit of work, and the three remaining could shovel their way through significant piles while the alchemist took a breather. Deimos joined Jigano and Rory in their digging, muscling his way through a massive portion of dirt and dumping the shovel into a bucket. The conversation about illusions continued, and as he maneuvered back and forth, aiming to fill his bucket before dumping the fresh sod into the garden, he mulled and machinated. “We could always create a fake backdrop or outline, perhaps,” musing out loud – even if there wasn’t anyone available with such enchantments, they could likely make do with what they already had. They worked carefully, and the first parts of their sojourn into the earth seemed to go well, without issue. The hardest part would be ensuring nothing fell upon them – rock, stone, loam, or earth. His eyes drifted to the lumber piled, and figured now would be a good moment to begin the next phase. “As we dig, we want to make sure nothing collapses on us,” his gaze went from the sanction of already maneuvered dirt, and back to the strong assistants, and his hand picked up one of the saws laden against the wall. “While I make a piece of wood long enough to fit across the top of the tunnel, can you cut two lumber pieces high enough to use as braces on either side of the apex portion?” Afterwards, they’d be able to hopefully put the boards in place with nails, dig, rinse and repeat. “If that is easy, we can then start making more so they will be ready as we go along.” -- No post order! Let’s make some wooden boards and pieces to hold overhead boards in place and so the tunnel doesn’t collapse! Remi Jigano Rory For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate

Я

Indeed, Remi looked uncharacteristically drained. Nodding gratefully at Deimos, Remi slumped against the wall and let himself sink down. Wrapping his hands around his knees and then letting his head loll forward, Remi did his best not let himself entirely fade away from consciousness much as his weary body might have demanded in.

"I am sure Bastien would be happy to paint something." He mused, mostly mumbling into his own legs, before glancing up. "It would be believable enough that he'd create a huge and controversial piece that Amalia would only feel comfortable displaying down here." This latter portion was said with a wry grin.

As the tunnel proceeded to the point where bracing was needed, Remi fished out a roll of parchment and pen. They looked perfectly ordinary but were anything but. With a few quick strokes Remi had captured the tunnel they were building from a side-view, as if it were merely 2-dimensional. However as he sketched, a 3D version suddenly appeared hovered over the paper, so that it could be viewed from all angles. "If we brace like this as we go..." He mumbled, holding the paper to Deimos, "...I think it would hold." His only evidence was purely theoretical though, so he was more than happy for input.

Remi's suggestion of Bastian doing the work earned a chuckle of agreement from the bard as he passed by with a bucket full of dirt for the garden. "It wouldn't be just a story, either. I suspect he'd be positively gleeful to paint something controversial on the wall. That it would hide the door would just be a convenient side-effect." At least Rexanna had seemed to be a stabilizing influence on the artist-turned-priest-turned... whatever he was now. Artist again?

Jigano was quickly glad that he was wearing his Smith disguise; the older clothing becoming dirty did it no real harm, and he didn't mind sweating in it as the work continued on. They made good progress, better than he expected in truth, and he grinned at Rory as he wiped his brow, unknowingly smudging dirt across his dye-darkened skin. When Deimos called a halt for the braces, the bard was more than ready for a break. The labor was repetitive and intensive, and he cracked his back with a groan before he looked to the lumber and then to their growing tunnel. He judged the height of it against himself before ambling over to the woodpile to select a piece of lumber and standing it up beside himself, reaching up to smudge a muddy mark a couple inches below his own height so there would be space atop it for the crossbeam. "This should do for the height," he murmured to Rory as an aside, handing the lumber over to the man who was far more skilled at actually cutting boards and putting them together in a sturdy and sensible fashion. While the farmer did that, the bard pulled a second piece of lumber out so they could measure it against the first once it was cut and make sure they would be the same length.

The idea of commissioning Bastien to paint them an outrageous and fascinating piece was amusing; Rory found himself grinning wryly at the talk, though it also made him feel a little like an outsider. He'd rarely ever met Bastien, and the one time they did, he'd chewed him out pretty fairly over the Spark Bird and dangers of Long Night. That Bastien had survived had seemed a miracle at the time, though of course at first everyone thought he hadn't.

Or something like that.

Once they had made some headway into the earth, Rory occasionally pausing to shovel dirt into his own bucket and emptying outside, Deimos called a pause. Rory took the time to drink some water, chewing on his lip as he listened (and watched Remi's wondrous parchment at work again).

"Have you dug a lot of tunnels, Deimos?" he asked as Jigano approached him with the wood, nodding agreement to the quiet remark. Rory himself had no experience with tunnels, neither making them nor even being in them. He was known for preferring the outdoors, or wooden structures, where there was air and light and.. well... Not stone and soil.

Grabbing a saw Rory began to shorten the beam to the mark Jigano had made, working slowly and methodically so he would last, cutting the second piece once done with the first.

D e i m o s

Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass

They took their breaks intermittently, water and food available should they require it, and despite the lack of heat, the work could easily take its toll on their figures. While they rested, Deimos listened; always a rapt scholar in that regard, Remi’s musings on Bastien’s painting abilities sounding entertaining and jocular; the part that would scandalize Amalia might not be the wisest of choices, but he was amused by the consideration. The alchemist even managed to create a sketch of bracings and holds, and the Reaper glanced over, gaze taking in the fine details, nodding at the input. “We can try it,” his voice insinuated agreement and accordance. If it didn’t work, they could always implement another measure. Jigano seemed to continue on the Bastien forefront, to which Deimos raised a brow; he didn’t know Rexanna’s man well – just that he was far better and exceeding over the standards of all the other ones that had been scattered about before. Afterwards, some of the limber had been prepared, so he began piling them near their gaping hole, ready to nail them into place for support. While he maneuvered and motioned around, Rory’s question rang along, likely curious towards the warrior’s information, sagacity, and wisdom surrounding the event. Truth be told, he had more experience in digging graves than tunnels, placing his still, deceased comrades and allies into their final resting spaces – but their had been a few tunnels, when they chose more furtive routes for their staged, waged wars. It hadn’t been often. “Some. This is not my first rebellion,” a smile, a smirk, a polished sensation of triumph and insurrection that had no place to go over than here. The fathoms of his stare went over to the wood again. “Good work,” he intoned, praising them for what it was. “Now, we should nail these in place. Then we can start the process once more.” It was repetitive and redundant, but if everything went well, it would soon become a methodical means to an end. “When we have dug further, we can start putting more support beams. If one of you would help me nail these, the others can start digging again.” He was apologetic that it wasn’t a little more exciting; no monsters, no mayhem, no menace, except the nuance of sedition in the spread of their actions. Perhaps that was all they required; any trial within their workspace could be detrimental. -- We need someone to help Deimos nail the first support beams in place, and the other two can dig! No post order! Remi Rory Jigano For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate

Jigano made sure to stop for water when he needed it, though he refrained from eating while they were getting so dirty, working with the earth both damp and dry as they deepened the tunnel. He did pause to look over Remi's magical sketchbook with avid curiosity, but there was too much work to do to linger over the marvel for long. At least measuring the timbers provided a momentary break from shoveling, though his recent experience cutting the jagged ends from the Atheneum's dome beams left him certain that the task was better left to any other man in the room.

The bard's lips quirked wryly at hearing that it wasn't Deimos's first rebellion, blue eyes finding the mountain's gaze and offering a slight nod of acknowledgment; recognition of one seditious soul to another. His smile widened at the rare praise, and he sketched a bow in an attempt to bring some levity to the situation before he considered what needed doing next. Remi still looked tired, and Rory... was not a fan of being surrounded by earth and stone. The fox remembered that from Long Night, and their time spent in the Infirmary after the perch had been repaired. He passed close to Rory , brushing his shoulder and curling a few gloved fingers a little clumsily around his lover's hand in silent support as he went to pick up his shovel once more. "When you want to rig the tunnel to collapse, that's when I should be called in to do the carpentry," he quipped with a chuckle, heading back into the tunnel with a wave to the men behind him. "Until then, it's probably safer for all of us if I keep digging."

Dig and fill the buckets and dump them in the garden, once and twice and ten times more as muscles ached at the unfamiliar activity, even as he sometimes stopped to stretch and get a drink. What Caido needed far more than a Queen, he thought to himself, was a hot spring! ...but someone else could dig that.