Out of the Frying Pan
Getting out of harm's way, it is a plan that never fails, and one that I put to use as much as I can, being a squishy thief. I have the means to achieve the plan as well, being spry and nimble, able to dodge opponents, tumble past them, or leap to safety. Whether the opponents ambush us from the rear or storm past the front-line fighters I can spot a position of relative safety and aim to get there to regroup. After all, I tend to be more of an aid to the party alive, if not directly in battle, than bleeding and taking up healing resources. That's how I feel about it, at least.
And so I find myself rather exposed, although not in any immediate or direct danger, after the party heads to find a rebel leader to convince him to turn himself in to the authorities. He needs to do this, we will plead, to save much more suffering, and we have as much of a promise as possible that he will be treated justly. At least, that was our intention, but he set his cronies on us and started firing his rapidly-firing crossbow in our direction before we even got to knock on his door. I guess we were expected, after all.
With several enemies firing bows or crossbows at us from different directions, and some others moving in to melee, we need to turn the tables quickly and gain the upper-hand before we get bogged down in numbers. Dexter, George and Tal all charge in the most promising directions, pinning down some of the enemy, and Ann-See quickly despatches a couple of the archers, sending them running with near-deadly wounds. Which leaves me, not one for ranged combat, neither one for engaging multiple opponents. And with an archer or two still threatening, I look for my place on the battlefield.
The rebel leader is looking deadly from the window of his house, but there's another window in a different room that is open, and it is in the same room as the front door. The front door that has an opponent fighting Dexter. I have found my place, for it is a simple manoeuvre to hustle down the hill, jump through the window, and tumble up behind Dexter's doorway defiler, providing a flanking bonus and positioning myself to put a knife in to his spleen in the near future.
No one had seen that ominous shadow in the building. After all, it was gloomy in there, and how do you discern one shadow from another? Or, indeed, a Dire Gloom from a shadow? No sooner am I behind the man in the door than the Dire Gloom encountered before returns and begins to engulf me. Being separated from the rest of the party and not being terribly strong the Gloom wraps itself around me quite effectively, and starts pushing its essence down my throat hentai-style. I feel my very being slipping away, drained from me by this monster, and despite my best attempts at escaping its embrace I put up only a slight struggle against it.
Yes, it's a plan that never fails, getting out of harm's way. It's just that it never fails to put me in to more danger than I started in.