Tathal passes the open door of the smithy. Glancing in he sees the
smith stirring his coals while his apprentice pumps the bellows. The
smith nods amiable as if his curiosity about what the entire hubbub
was about is answered.

Tathal leads his men past the smithy, along the base of the keep,
turns the corner. The stair is before him and he is already breathing
hard. Half-way up. 10 steps to go. Seven steps to go. An armed
man appears on the landing. Four steps to go. With a yell he turns
to flee.

Tathal is on the landing the door is swinging shut. Tathal throws his
weight and strength behind his shield to force the door opened, it
begins to yield. He feels a thud against the door; another defender
has thrown his weight on the door. Then another thud. The door
begins to close. Tathal uses his sword pommel to grip on the mantle
of the door, his feet scrabble for purchase on the stone floor. One
his household joins him at the door, then another, a balance between
open and closed is achieve. Tahal can now knowingly reflect on the
nature of a cork in a bottle. Thru the opening Tathal sees that a
defender has decided to rid himself of this pesky door stop. With a
spear he'll prick it out. Tathal is able to deflect the blow a bit
with his sword; the point is stopped by his chain about his throat.
The defender holds the point on the jammed Tathal and begins to move
back to the spear butt in order to get his whole weight behind the
point.

Morien leads his men to the lower gates of the keep. More men are
pouring out of the buildings to his right but they are not his
concern. He reaches the double doors. They are closed. A pause, but
there is something here, the doors are not neatly joined, one juts out
a bit. [Awareness success]

Morien turns to his men. "You two grip that door and see if it opens."

The men set their fingertips to the side of the door, one high, one
low; and lean back the door opening gradually, then swiftly as a
better grip is obtained. No doubt it was easier to leave the door
unbarred every night rather than have to climb stair and ladder every
morning to remove the bar.

Morien leaps through. The room is filled with stores. The only
defender is an unarmed man standing by a keg, holding a mug. A
guilty, apologetic smile is on his face. Perhaps he shouldn't be
sneaking a morning pint.

Morien slips his axe through his belt, slings his shield over his back
and launches himself up the ladder. "Oi," protests the mug man. The
argument is quickly settled by one of Morien's men knocking him down
with a blow to the side of the head.

Morien's head pops out of the trap opening. It swivels about for an
enemy and sees a boy with a sword. No doubt sent for it by a master.
The boy is wide eyed, throws the sword up. He is unbalanced a bit by
its weight, but masters it and brings it down on Morien's helm.

Morien is halfway out of the hole when he feels his helm settle on his
head a bit more firmly. Pausing he looks at the boy. The child's
eyes are wide with horror. Horror perhaps at what he has done, horror
that Morien's head survived the blow unsplit, or horror at Morien's
expression. Whatever its source, the boy screams, drops his sword and
flees for the stairs up.

Tathal hears the scream, the man with the spear looks right, then the
door pops open as the defenders turn to deal with a threat at their
rear. The sudden release causes Tathal to stumble and fall. His
house hold rushes over him, some leap over others run up his back.
The last in pulls on his arm to assist him up. "Are you hurt sir," he
asks helpfully.

Morien has dealt with the first defender to approach him, sending the
man off bloody and howling. His men are pouring out of the hole. The
lower floor is bedlam. Defenders and their pursuers are all about.
The defenders are either making a stand, fleeing up the stairs or
pleading mercy. The assault is awaiting orders, taking prisoners or
dispatching them, or beginning to pillage.

Meanwhile at the inner gatehouse Sir Bege has come up. Looking about
he takes in the situation. "Sir Gwair and Sir Tanicus those men
there," pointing to the gathering force by the buildings on the right,
"may interfere with us. Sir Gwair take your household and Sir Tanicus
take half my men and meet them. I will hold the gate. God speed you."

Gwair orders his line on the right, Tanicus orders his on the left.
As they move forward a line of battle forms to meet them. Those in it
taking the intervening time before they meet to arm.

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ooc: How swiftly time is escaping me recently.