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<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-r">Appraise 31 vs DC 30 to set the Knocker in the right place.</span></span>
Through the visor of his froghead helm, Damien admires the well-practiced slaughter of orc and goblinkind by your men. Their work is artful, precise, and meticulous. Especially when you compare it against the carnage of the skeletons, who fight like barbarians absent formation with tooth and claw, tearing at the greenskins like madmen drunk with battle fervor. Blood runs across the ground like rainwater in a storm, while gore falls like sleet and hail as the skeletons rip their prey apart.
You cannot spare you men-at-arms more than a glance, though what you see is worthy of commendation. The longer the enemy fights at the gate, the more time their commanders have to assess the situation and realize that you and Damien do not fight among them. Which is why you make quick work of fishing through Martin's knapsack for something necessary to your plans.
"So what's the plan for the two of us?" Damien asks. When he peels his covered eyes from the battle and spots what you've drawn from the bag, he has his answer. "<span class="mu-i">Oh.</span> We're going around back then."
"Aye," you say. In your gauntleted hands, you hold a wooden box the size of a large brick. Both faces wrapped in an khemically treated paper that makes sticky things slide right off it. Inside of it, three pounds of blast jelly set to go off with the spark from a cheap tin wind up timer set up on the back. "We go around the back, blow a hole in the wall, and burn everything inside."
Tucking the bomb away on the side of your own pack, you rush off towards the brush. Behind you, Damien moves to catch up with you, calling out, "Except the books, right?"
"<span class="mu-i">Especially</span> the books!" you tell him with a hollow chuckle. "I will not abide leaving a single page of <span class="mu-i">apostasy</span> unburnt, lest some aspiring <span class="mu-i">witch</span> take inspiration from it."
"At least let me make <span class="mu-i">certain</span> it's apostasy before you start breaking out the torches," Damien complains, still lagging a short ways behind you.
You both keep to the brush as you circle the tower, keeping as low as you can with your massive physique. A challenge, considering that you stand head-and-shoulders above most men. Stealth was not in the Light's plan for you, but with Annette and the Skeletons pulling the swine-faced defenders forward, you manage to pass beneath their notice. Or rather, there are neither orc nor goblin there to keep watch for your gold-clad figure peaking out from the bushes.
