Shots Heard, and then Silenced, at the Shot Tower

IC:
After removing anything of potential value from the roof of the shot tower you light it up. Luckily, the warlocks Jacobin Bombastus Rum had hired, the Seven Devils, Hellish of bent and glass-cannon of stature, had been busy inscribing the rooftop with an arcane circle and symbolic what-not using a highly flammable Infernal resin. It goes up with little more than the thought of a spark.

At the sight of the signal, the main part of the revolutionary army -- at present count 266 fightin' poors, 18 crossbowmen loyal to Saebelia Rum, 2 Young Rums, plus 2 embedded academics -- surge across Old Mill Road and surround the Shot Tower Estate.

OOC: You recover the following from the tower.

• The bodies of 7 warlocks; 5 human and 2 Tiefling. Each has a ceremonial dagger. 5 GP pocket change.
  
• The bodies of 5 guards; 4 human and 1 half-orc. Each has a good suit of chain mail armor, long swords, and heavy crossbows with 20 quarrels. 5 sp pocket change -- they tended to drink & gamble.
  
• An uncapped potion flask that was sitting on the roof next to a secured rope hanging all the way to the ground. 2/3 full.
  
• A potion bottle plainly-marked Healing.
  
• Note: there were a few more potion bottles that didn't survive their owners being thrown down the shot tower.
  

IC:
Before your horde can perform a full-fledged ransack, you quickly give Jack Blast's apartments and office in the main building the once-over. Interestingly enough, the second Mrs. Jack Blast, aka Nikol Neverness-Rum, the current wife, and their young children are not on the premises. The only people in the estate house are staff.

"Now where did they get to?" wonders Saebelia. She seems surprised. "Maybe he's hidden them along with the grain he bought."

OOC: you find the following from inside the estate

• A dozen servants, butlers, maids, etc. 10 human, 1 elf, 1 halfling in a Trilby hat.
  
• 600 GP. 500 in small gems, 100 in gold. The halfling informs you it's the estates' emergency operating fund, 2 months of upkeep.
  
• A sheaf of Jacobus's papers, business journals, and a small leather-bound book that has the unmistakable smell of diary. You flip through a book of receipts which seem to show the location of the remaining grain caches.
  
• In the same bedside drawer the diary is found on, 1 small potion vial the same color as the 2 marked Healing, a larger potion bottle with an ideogram on it that kinda looks like a big dwarf and a mountain.
  
• Lots of bottles & casks, presumably of the 'good stuff' in the cellars.
  
• Plus assorted art, silverware, nice furniture, jewelry that looks suspiciously costume, a lot of tacky magnesium jewelry that's so several seasons ago, and so on.
  

IC:
"What are you going to do with us?" asks the trembling head-of-house, Monsieur.

OOC:Good question! What are you going to do with them? Do you anything to prevent human nature from running its course vis a vis the mob of working-class pseudo-revolutionaries who are currently standing in a big bourgeoisie house?

IC:
You try to grab a brief respite. Maybe uncork a looted potent potable to regain your strength (and lose a bit of wit). Lev, the embedded historian, asks if your group has a name yet and if "Shot Tower Putsch" sounds right for an attack on a liquor magnate's manor house.

Whatever rest you get is disrupted by shouts 30 minutes later. 15 figures are marching down Old Mill Road from the Rumcastle. 11 are human-sized. 4 are about twice that. They're in formation; 5 smaller ones in front, each carrying very large shields, the four larger -- obviously Lord-Doctor Choke's Bailiffs, the Billy-Trolls -- followed by the rest, using the larger ones as cover. It seems the Billy Trolls are wearing enormous... capes?... that lay heavy on them in the night breeze off the Aster.

They're still 200-300 yards away walking down the middle of Mill Road (though they could easily seek cover in the mill yards or down an alley).

Nicholas looks the crowd of servants up and down, scowling.  "A sorry bunch, the lot of ye," he snarls, "And ye in the hat, damme if I ain't tempted to see ya keelhauled just fer wearin' such a thing.  Arr, now, don't play the innocent with me!  I know a player of the Game when I see one, and I'm lookin' at one right.  Bloody.  Now."

"Still and all," he admits, " 'tis no crime to be a Gamesman.  Yet.  A sin, myahp, but not a crime.  But I see you 'negging' anyone, little man, and it's yer head I'll be havin'.    The rest of ye, ye seem innocent enough to me.  I say we let 'em go, Captain Pogsley.  In the sense of not killin' 'em, I mean.  They be steppin' outside, the crowd'll be tearin' 'em to pieces, by damn.  Fer now, ye stay here and ye stay quiet, by thunder!  That's assumin' ye all want to be seein' another sunrise, that is."

*****

"Now, then, Captain," he says a little later, taking Pogsley aside, "We've little time, I know, but I got me an idear, I do.  Them trolly sorts, they don't much care fer light, or so I hear.  And these magnesium trash, sorry booty that it might be, will burn Captain, and burn bright!  Enough to blind the scurvy bastards!  And then, by thunder, we can light 'em all afire!  Plenty of rum hereabouts, Captain, and rum burns bloody well indeed!"