Para-interactive: The Eagle

[*Powderhorn]

Bridget had fought in her own guerrilla war in her youth. She knew it wasn't as the bards sang it, no great gushes of blood erupt and splatter everywhere. A little bit of shrapnel was a pain, a literal one at that, the heat of the injury surrounding the pinching in her back with every step. Ugh, how am I going to explain this to Uran? flashes through her mind while she keeps moving. But she was comfortable in the knowledge that her heavy black clothes would soak up the blood and not leave any traces.

Suddenly she changes direction, making an abrupt turn toward the Lower Ward, so as to throw off her pursuit. There would be another safe house she could make use of there. She slows her step, moving more deliberately, and listening to make sure she's thrown her pursuit.

[*Selebius]

The voices and the sounds of heavy boots fall back, soon go silent. Have they given up their pursuit? Or are they waiting for something?

Few people are around at that time but of course the streets are never really empty, the thick, heavy fumes of the Lower Ward might be strong enough to mask some of her scent, perhaps even the smell of her blood.

The safehouse is nearby, and for now... it looks like it is not compromised.

Yet there is a nagging thought... as if she has overlooked something?

[*Powderhorn]

Bridget pushes the thought to the side. There are always doubts in a mission, and, to be effective, they must be managed, but ultimately not allowed to paralyze you. She's not feeling dizzy, her heart isn't racing any more than it ought to be, she knows she's not bleeding out. If she's not bleeding out, she's not leaving a trail, not on hard cobble roads. As for her prisoner, she should still be down for the count, and, if not, it's not like she's getting out of the plane without Bridget opening the bag. Even her own looks were well disguised, her purple hair deeply enshrouded by hood and mask, her size even changed to be human instead of halfling sized.

Aside from anything left over from the traps, and precious little of that would there be, there was nothing to tie it back to her. Once she gets to the safe house, she listens to make sure it is indeed safe, and then enters.

[*Selebius]

After exchanging the passwords she is led to a trapdoor at the back of the room, some fake barrels hiding this entrypoint to the hidden room beneath.

The man that greeted her then resumes his business, ready to delay, ready to warn her should trouble come to find her.

Of course the room downstairs is only sparsly furnished, a round, three legged table with some fitting stools, four bedrolls, a small barrel with water and a box with some apples, bread and basic healing suplies.

Bridget heard there is a way to escape through a chute on the wall to the left, the opening hidden by a thin layer of plaster.

[*Powderhorn]

Bridget eases up her shirt to wrap her back gingerly. It was just from adventuring Uran... is the excuse she comes up with. It's believable enough, anyway. She contemplates setting fire to the safe house, just to be certain, but instead changes out her clothes and dismisses the enlargening spell that was placed on her. Now in her more usual black dress, purple hair vibrant, she drinks a potion of invisibility to prevent the watchman from seeing just who it was there anyway.

Thus, she quietly slips out the back of the building, and continues on as her properly half-sized self, careful to step on firm, dry surfaces where she won't leave any tracks. The clothes she had worn as a disguise would be burned later.

[*Selebius]

The man just turns his head when the door is opened by invisible hands but he relaxes again, probably used to these things happening already.

Outside the light is getting brighter again, acidic rain falling, adding to the poor visibility caused by the hazy air.

There are a few more people up and outside now and it would be easy for Bridget to fit in.

[*Powderhorn]

Bridget dismisses the invisibility and merges into the crowd, herself knowing that she still hasn't done a terribly good job of securing the prisoner. Still, between the booze and the poison, she should still be down, but I'd rather be safe than sorry.

She makes her way over to the paraelemental plane of ice, where she prepares herself to go adventuring, much as anyone else would, and prepares a tangle trap to receive her victim.

Bridget steps through and makes her way to the back of the salamander's caves. Making sure as to have her own back to a wall of ice, so none of the lizards sneak up on her, she sets up the tangle trap, and then turns the bag upside down before emptying her prisoner right onto the trap.

I'll bet she wasn't dressed for winter, but I'll wager that ice will help the headache awaiting her.

[*Selebius]

The locals are busy with securing their hideout against the next wave of adventurers, not seeing the halflling who sneaks past them.

When she opes the bag and spills the content the corpse drops out, cooling quickly in the chill air, the trap immediately entangling the lifeless remains.

A short check shows she must have suffocated during the escape.

[*Powderhorn]

Well that simplifies things a bit, Bridget thinks to herself. Waste of a trap, but, better safe than sorry. Instead she searches the body for any forms of identification, treasure, pocket change, or really anything. She strips the body of it's garb, and puts it in rags instead, after checking over the body for any hidden weapons.

Finally, she ties the body up, hands behind the back, ankles together, and places a gag in the body's mouth. She slips the body back into the bag, and is ready to go to the meeting place.

[*Selebius]

As the woman only wears a sleeping gown the only item she has on her is her engagement ring which Bridget can pocket.