“Alright.” Kanei nods. “Who’s got bandages? A little alcohol won’t make this wound heal all by its self!” he shouts jokingly
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“Agreed.” Callen says, “Is anyone a medic?” He calls to the rest of the expedition.
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Bren was fortunately standing quite off to the side when this interaction happened. He supposed it was a good thing some of the more bold, quick, and strong members of this raid tried their hand first, as opposed to him.
But it was clear neither brute force nor trial and error were going to get them past this door, at least not quickly enough to get to the storeroom in time.
It was time for the engineers to do their work.
Bren will then proceed to take careful measurements of the mechanisms, examine the handles, and, so long as no one is around them, tamper with them using a bar or pipe from a safe distance.
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The handles seem to have triggered a gas jet, which was lit by the flint and steel. In the aftermath, you can smell this gas. It is the same as what many of Achilles’ war machines used.
There may be a way to disable the flames, but you aren’t sure if that would help open the door.
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Iosif was now siting on the ground, against the wall, his knees brought halfway to his chest (it’s the closest he could manage with the cage) and in spite of what had occurred and the fact that he was still brightly glowing, the biggest thing in his mind right now was whether or not he should feel remorse for Kanei. When he saw the burn was practically an encouragement for him to keep babbling, he elected it was fine to retain any condolences.
Iosif managed to get a whiff of the gas exiting the door, but the source - or what in blazes it was - completely escaped him. Only that it was unnatural, and that he would probably be blamed, somehow.
The hand covering his face turned slightly to pinch his nose.
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“Don’t beat yourself up about it, if anyone is to blame it will be me; it was my idea to try the door without checking for traps.” Callen said to Iosif, “And this city has them all over the place. I got careless and now we have to deal the the consequences and try our best to repair the damage.”
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The Verdant Paladin decided it was time to get his burns attended to. They hurt a lot more than he let on. He realized it really had been pretty stupid of him to do what he did, but that didn’t mean he regretted it. No one had died, and that was a win in his book. He went in search of a medic.
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Iosif let Callen know how deeply he felt for the party by immediately averting eye contact and drumming one hand on the floor. Yes, nobody should get hurt, but this… Creature wasn’t from any faction and was therefore the least trustworthy of them all.
Go away go away go away go away
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Callen left Iosif alone and went to a corner to go through his bag of trinkets and examine them, muttering to himself about what he was observing and predictions on what they’d sell for.
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The Scholar Representative seems to be quite off-put by the trap, cowering against the wall. Representative Vaughn is trying to regain control of the group. Upon noticing that some were injured, he does send two medics - one from the Kingdom and one from the Scholars - to attend to their wounds.
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Callen put his things away and approached the Scholar Representative, “Do you have a minute?” He asks.
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There is deep set suspicion in his eyes, and he looks around for Representative Vaughn. When said individual is absent, he looks back at you. “Y-yes, mercenary?”
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“You and your own seem disturbed by that trap, may I ask why?” He asks, “and, please, call me Callen.”
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“I- we- I didn’t expect that there would be such … mechanisms that are still functional after all these years …” He shudders, “Do you know what this city was capable of? Three cities in Granis were leveled in hours.”
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Callen nods, “And given the loot I sold from the storehouses and factories and what likely remains there, I imagine it could’ve done the same to many more but, fortunately for all of you, this city was brought down before it could do so.” He says. “Another plus side to the city falling is that the factories cannot manufacture stuff anymore and that means the stuff there is ripe for the taking.”
“This place is tough but, we now know to be on our toes and keep our eyes open so we don’t get caught off guard by more traps.” He adds.
“Your friend in the exo-suit seems scared of almost everything, what’s his story?” He asks, seeming genuinely worried for Iosif.
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“It did enough.”
“Ah …” He lowers his voice, “He has a … deadly affliction. In his internal skeleton. The cage keeps him alive. Poor child, parents died during Achilles’ reign.”
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Callen seems saddened by those words about Iosif’s condition, “So, it acts like life support for him.” He mutters.
“I’ll do my best to protect you guys, you are my team and, around here, safety and strength in numbers has a lot of advantages but that only pays off if everyone works together as a team.” He says. “I’ll guide this expedition to the storehouses and factories but it will take some time.”
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“We are indebted to you, mercenary.” He turns away to address one of his aides.
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Despite their living lightbulb, it was hard to miss burst of flames. Hereward was far away enough to be safe, but moved back anyways. Not for fear of flames, but panic of the company. Best to stay out of their way and give them room to escape.
Hereward sighs, waiting to see if orders for charred corpse removal would be given. Though the call for just healers was a bit surprising. At least nothing dead yet. As he continues to wait and see how long it takes them to figure out a door, something dons on him.
“Torches. They said no torches because of gases. If there are other flame traps and they activate, we’ll all be cooking.” He says it loud enough for others outside his unit.
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Callen nods, “A valid point.” He says, “If those are leaking gas, they can make things difficult.”
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