It's another gloomy day in the city of Theranin, a port city on the Bay of Sheawick. The dark sky speaks of the snow that is bound to fall and the bay has already begun its yearly freeze, bringing shipping traffic to a crawl; only a couple more weeks and it will stop completely until it thaws again in the Spring. Gren always dreads this time of the year as work becomes slow, only being able to find a job as a bouncer in The Salty Seawife, a small tavern near the docks frequented by men of the sea, more so now that they have to wait out the ice. During his spare time today, he finds himself wandering through the market district of town near the town square where there seems to be some sort of commotion going on...

Waiting in line to enter the walled port city, Dale finds himself dozing off; it's been a long journey from his midland hometown of Falmerung. One of these times that he decided to inspect the inside of his eyelids, a voice bounces off the inside of his head, "Wake up boy! They aren't going to let you into the city if you look like some good for nothing layabout." Giving a bit of a start, Dale looks around a bit unsettled before he realizes it was his black blade berating him once again, not some random passerby. At least he had refrained from speaking out loud to the blade again, a mistake he frequently found himself making since his acquisition of it. It takes a while before his turn comes to enter the city but as soon as the guards deem him worthy to enter, he finds himself getting bustled along the busy streets towards the town square...

Having snuck into the city after being turned away at the gate with more than one suspicious look, Nori squeezes the water out of his beard, a byproduct from having swum into the dock area, no small feat seeing as the water was close to freezing but the dwarfs constitution was strong and he grew up in far less forgiving places than this. What he needed now was a good, if not quite honestly come by, meal and a way to warm his bones, preferably in liquid form. Following his keen sense of smell, Nori ends up coming around the corner next to a baker's hawking cart. Having not been seen by the proprietor, he pockets a small sweet roll and makes his way away from the cart at a brisk pace heading into a crowd to break line of sight...

It was not often that a monk set off on a journey as young as Taron had; most had at least seen their 40th name day and already had a good deal of worldly knowledge to guide them. Being connected both to his brotherhood and the call of nature though, complements of his father, he had felt inclined to start early. There were plenty of places that he had never heard of, let alone visited and where better to start than the trading city down the coast from his monastery? 'To learn to be steady and stalwart as the mountain,' his fellow monk Cayson had told him, 'one needs to learn patience and tranquility while under the most arduous situations.' Maybe he took it a bit too literal by seeking out trouble to overcome but he was here and he might as well make the most of it. As he wandered the city streets after setting himself up at a local inn, he heard commotion and expectant conversation coming from a crowd that had gathered in front of a large, intricately decorated building...

This is not what my talents should be being used for... Tempus thought as he waited, crouched lazily on the balls of his feet in the entrance of an alley looking out on the town square. Hired as a bodyguard for the days proceedings, he was a bit out of his comfort zone. His specialty was more in the trapping of individuals, not what happened after his enemy was aware of his presence. Regardless, he held his weapon at the ready, making sure he was going to earn that gold reward they promised him for protecting the key speakers today. Suddenly the crowd begins to grow loud and cheers begin to ring out as large oaken double doors open on the top of a balcony overlooking the square...

Vivo had traveled to the northern reaches of the kingdom in search of answers that would lead him to knowledge on the workings of life and death. Where else to look first but an environment that actively seeks to catch its inhabitants unaware and offer death's embrace at the slightest provocation? Pushing his way, a bit aggressively, through the crowd that had assembled, Vivo feels a little conspicuous. Being a half-orc, not everyone saw you in the brightest of lights. You could extend your hand in friendship only to have it cut off by some biased fool. Better to stick to ones self and depend on your own skills than regret your dependence on another. That was if you didn't include his white fox familiar Etulo, currently perched on the wit's shoulders, wrapping himself around his neck to keep away from the trampling feet of the busy city. Halfway across the square though, people began to point and look at four figures coming out of a door up on the balcony of a rich-looking building. Curious, he stops to see what all the hubbub is about...

The voyage north by boat had been a nightmare; storm after storm had plagued their voyage and Erasmus didn't even know if the vision he had from his goddess spoke of this place. No grand city of gold or home of famous rulers, Theranin was just your average city with your average people. All he knew as he walked the streets of this unfamiliar town is that somewhere here in the northlands, the Dawnflower wanted him to be present and ready to do her will to help those poor misguided souls in need of redemption. If he could attain success here, perhaps he could be the one who found a way to help his family out of poverty back in Moil. Suddenly, from a street over, he hears screams of panic and rushes towards them, hand on his weapon, ready to defend the innocent if he must. As he turns the corner, a large dust cloud is just beginning to settle...

---

As the various visitors to the city stand spread out in the sea of people, intrigued by what could be going on, they see four men, all but one of them showing considerable signs of age step out to the railing of the balcony to address the crowd who have begun to cheer for these figures. From somewhere on the ground in front of the building, you hear a loud voice rise over the crowd, obviously aided by some sort of magical device, "Ladies and gentlemen! I present to you your candidates for election to the city council! Aroth Degrin, Thelry Studart, Vyncent Lacio, and Selmund Wulfa!" At the statement of each of their names, the candidate waves, from left to right. The younger man, no more than 30 is the first to be introduced, the second a balding man of broad shoulders and bushy eyebrows with a stern face, the third a smaller man with long pure white hair tied back in a ponytail with a fatherly look about him, and finally the only elderly man to have any color left in his hair, a black haired man who is hunched over railing a bit but looks quite at peace with the proceedings and seems to get the loudest cheer of all the candidates so far, a fact that does not go unnoticed by the other three who shoot him quick looks while wearing fake smiles.

The man announcing the event continues in an authoritative voice, "As you all well know, the election will be held two weeks hence and the winner will be put on the city council for the next three years so choose well and choose wisely! We will now hear from the candidates their statemen-" the man is cut off by a loud cracking noise as the right side support of the balcony snaps, collapsing part of the deck the candidates are standing on! The first three candidates manage to hold on to the railing to save themselves from the fall but Selmund Wulfa, being older than the rest, fails to cling to the railing and falls three stories to disappear beneath the crowd who begins to surge with panic, screams and cries for help ringing out in the air.


Actions?
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:27, Mon 26 Mar 2012.

Gren Boarshead hated this time of year.  It wasn't the cold; he grew up in the wilds and was used to that.  The harbor would soon freeze up, his day job would come to an end.  For many moons now, Gren had started feeling trapped.  The coming of the ice meant he would have little to do now but to sit around in the common room of the Salty Seawife tossing out the occasional drunk.  As pleasant as the place was, the thought of spending both day and night there depressed the giant.  That was one reason he was treating himself today.

Gren, the half-ogre, moved through the market snatching up sweet treats and looking for the ingredients for a special evening meal.  He had just purchased a giant handful of strawberries.  They were all bruised, and the old woman had charged him twice as much as usual for half again as many; but these were the last of the season.  He wouldn’t see the sweet red berries again until the frost began to melt.  Before he could move on to his next purchase he found himself standing in a sea of people.  They were all staring up at the balcony of one of the nicer buildings in town.  Trapped again, he thought with a sigh.

Standing two or three feet taller than those around him he at least had a clear view of the announcement of the political gathering.  Too bad he didn’t care.
Gren had nearly died in these streets.  One of the local wizards had hit him with a spell that never missed its target.  He was then dragged out into the streets to die by an invisible servant.  Gren survived, and eventually reported the incident; but nothing came of the matter.  The wizard who should have been shackled in some dank dungeon was never punished.  Whatever political leader was put into power would have to be better than the one that currently existed.  Luckily, Gren had yet to encounter the Wizard and often wondered what he would do should they meet face to face again.  If he were like his brothers, he’d rip the arms off the man and beat him with them.

Lost in his thoughts, Gren absentmindedly popped large strawberries in his mouth.  He hadn’t even paid attention to the names of the politicians as they were introduced.  He didn’t hear the crack of the balcony support.  But suddenly, the crowd surged forward knocking the remaining berries from his cupped hand onto the ground below.  Gren groaned out loud in disgust and was surprised when the rest of the crowd did as well.  At least they were sympathetic for his loss.  As the berries were stomped into the ground by shuffling feet he came to the conclusion that something else was up.  He looked up and saw the situation for what it was.

The old dark-haired man was gone, likely fallen.  Gren didn’t know healing magic.  He was a giant of a man, but couldn’t do much when the balcony was three stories up.  He looked up to the roof tops.  If he could get up there he may be able to lower a rope to help support the balcony.  The bodyguards will likely pull the survivors back in before I ever get up there.  That’s what they are getting paid for anyways, he told himself.  Gren was being bumped and shoved.  It was starting to get annoying.  ”MOVE!” he bellowed.  He moved through the crowd towards the front of the building where the old man would have fallen.  “If you can’t heal the man get out of the way!  I said get back!” he roared, shoving those too slow to get the point.

Dale usually travels with a performing group of minstrels or bards, but he got thrown out of his most recent group for starting a bar fight... again.  Maybe he'll have better luck in Theranin.

Dale only half-listens to the proceedings but starts when the balcony explodes and the crowd fully animates.  Dale tucks his arms in, trying to keep from getting one broken as some idiot surges past him.  He pushes in the opposite direction of the crowd, trying to get to the collapsed balcony.  Gods, I hope the old man's still alive and that there's a reward for saving him.  This feels like an assassination, too.  I better not get blown up doing this.

I'm with you on that one, James agrees.

"Okay, out of the way," Dale yells, for all the good it does.  He pushes his way to the far right section of destroyed masonry and looks around.

Dalinar Reynolds rolled 21 using 1d20+2. Perception on masonry.

Nori slipped into the crowd but it wasnt long before his appearance and smell created a small amount of breathing room all around him. If any attempted to step into his newly acquired personal space, they were met with a glare that instantly caused them to move in the opposite direction. Nori preferred it that way.

The grizzled barbarian was not in the greatest of moods, his wet armor chilled him to the bone even though he refused to show signs of discomfort. He wanted nothing more than a quiet corner to sit by and drink, but the blasted crowds were everywhere and his height made it a problem to see in which direction he was going. Nori felt it best to move towards a wall and wait for his frustration to subside as he was afraid of what he would do if he ran into another dead end. At least here, he could avoid most of the wind and eat the sweet roll he had pocketed.

It wasn't until then that he realized the reason for the crowd, opposite him high above, the politicians were speaking about running a city. The thought made Nori scoff, half those men were no older then he and Nori was still fairly young for dwarven years. He doubted any of those men knew anything about running a proper city.For things of that nature, one had to be at least a century before you could even begin wanting to run something properly.

When the balcony collapsed, instead of a horrified gasp that resembled the rest of the crowd, a harsh cackle erupted from beneath his beard. The pieces of sweet roll and spit clung to his beard. It wasn't that he was laughing at the fallen man, but more so at the shoddy workmanship of the balcony. Had that been dwarf built, it would have supported at least fifty men with no issues.

Ooc: Don't think I get a perception check as I'm not looking for specific faults, just crediting it to poor craftsmenship. Unless there was an obvious cut or things of that nature, he wouldn't have cared.

Vivo was not the sort to waste an opportunity, and began to push his way through the crowd.  Cities, while crowded with close-minded fools, were terribly exciting.  The witch had never seen a person survive a collapsing building, as those were rare in the more rural places he found himself.  On the other hand, he'd never seen a man killed in a collapse either.
The crowd proved to be an obstacle, and while most gave the half-orc a wide berth under normal circumstances, they were pressing about on all sides at present.  Vivo quickly decided on a new tactic.

"I'm a healer.  Please move, as I said, I'm a healer.  Get out of...  I SAID MOVE!"

Vivo rolled 25 using 1d20+8. Intimidate.

  It had been awhile since Taron had been around so many. He wasn't sure if it would be something he'd ever get use to. It amused and intrigued him in a way. He half smiled when a couple young ones came running past him, almost falling over themselves trying to avoid the growing crowd. That crowd seemed to be real interested in what was going on at the balcony of a grand looking building. This was one of those things that could be intriguing, so he heads that way.

  Taron got as close as he could to the building so he could hear the going ons of the peolpe in Theranin. He was standing to the right of the building when the balcony gave way, sending one of the men to the ground. There were a few people in front of him and his view was blocked, not being able to tell if the man was alive, the young Monk moves to help. One thing his father taught him before he left was to  tend small wounds. He'd never be a healer but he may be able to help.

  As he was pushing his way thru the couple rows of people in front of him, he heard a voice behind him claiming to be a healer. Taron turned to get out of the way, he raised his arms out in an attempt to hold the crowd and make room for the healer. The Monk then stepped in line behind the man of obvious orc heritage, he could still possibly be of some help.

Tempus cursed under his breath as he instantly sprang into action, leaping from where he stood guard in the alley a stones throw from the balcony. "Curse the worthless Gods and whatever Heavens and Hells they came from!" I suppose that'll cost me a quarter of my guardsman's bounty and I had nothing to do with it! I knew this wasn't my kind of job!

Tempus assumed the man who'd fallen from the balcony had probably met his end. A three story fall would be the death of most and the man was old. But if he had somehow survived the damn crowd was liable to trample him to death and that Tempus couldn't allow while he was on payroll. Close as he was to where the man had fallen Tempus still had to contend with the crowd to get to his side. Not wanting to cause unneeded bloodshed he ignored his sword and drew the bullwhip that was always coiled over his left shoulder and cracked it as loudly into the air in front of him as he could to try to part the throng!

Travel by boat didn't sit well with Erasmus, and he found once again in his thoughts the despair of responsibility when the flesh was weak.  Aside from speedy travel, the only favor the voyage did for him was have him already in his warmer robe; the openings of which he clutched closed in this horrible weather.  Coming upon the scene, he observes the settling cloud of dust and races toward it, assuming that this is the cause for alarm.  The cries he heard were the sort that accompanied injury, or promised it.  Even facing such a crowd, Gren's large form was easily picked out, and the wake in the crowd he left behind him was too convenient not to exploit.  Whispering a prayer to Sarenrae for her obvious intercession--for why else would such a huge man be present in such a moment--he moved to follow the half-ogre to the victim Gren had just described.

The crowd in a panic, pushing through to the base of the building proves to be more of a challenge than it seems. With two commands to move, their wits already a bit frayed, groups of people scream at the two monstrous men striding towards them and make haste to get out of their way. Tempus's shouts and bullwhip seem to get drowned out in tall the commotion, not causing the effect he had hoped for. Luckily, he is able to slip through some people and get into the wake of the half-ogre, allowing him to make it forward. Erasmus, Dalinar, and Taron also find this to be a valuable strategy and follow suit.

As Nori stands there in the crowd, trying not to get trampled and maintain his indifference, he looks up to see a giant of a man striding towards him quickly, seemingly unaware of his presence. Diving out of the way at the last second, losing the remainder of his sweet roll to the trampling feet of the panicked crowd, he lets out a growl, regains his feet, and follows the half-ogre to express his... dissatisfaction.

As the various members make it to the scene of the accident, it is a gruesome sight indeed. A handful of unlucky bystanders and the announcer seem to have been trapped under debris from the falling balcony, some of them unmoving, others wailing in obvious pain. The old politician, however, is nowhere to be seen at first glimpse. Up above, the three surviving politicians are scrambling to get to the door to the interior of the building still, climbing up the railing to the safer side of the balcony to the best of heir ability. Other bodyguards besides Tempus come running up to the scene as well as city guards, attempting to move the debris to help those buried underneath. One in particular in a snow white tunic covering his chain mail and a white plumed helmet begins barking orders at the soldiers, giving them different duties to help those involved in the accident.

Pleased with himself at having slipped so cleverly through the crowd, Erasmus yanks on the leather thong affixing his holy symbol, pulling it out of his robe so that it's on display.  His credentials in sight, he slips past the half-orge and approaches the man in the white plumed helmet.  "I am a priest of Sarenrae and a physician." he says, keeping his voice steady.  "Direct me to the injured."

Dale mentally nudges James to look at the severed support beam.  "See, told you assassination," Dale says.

Don't say 'assassination' out loud next to the city guard, James grumbles.

Good call.  Dale flashes one such guard his best I-am-so-not-suspicious smile and helps him lift a crumbled brick off a woman.  He keeps his eyes peeled for the old man.

When the brick doesn't budge, Dale sticks both pinkies in his mouth and whistles at the half-ogre nearby.  "Hey," Dale waves at him, "come give us a hand."

Dalinar Reynolds rolled 5 using 1d20+3. general strength to lift brick.

Gren finally made it to the front, but paused once he got there.  What was he doing?  He took a moment to decipher his own motivations.  It was to make a good impression.  His dock job was nearing its end.  If he could make an impression on the City Watch or with one of the politicians, maybe they would hire him.

Over the muttering and screams of the crowd he thought he heard someone proclaiming to be a healer.  He looked around and saw a large man making his way through the crowd.  He also noticed a few people sneaking around him having followed in the wake he left.  His face twisted into a look of confusion.

As Vivo finally made it through the crowd Gren stepped in front of him.  He placed a giant hand on the man's chest to hold him back.  "Everyone just needs to keep back.  Let the Watch and the Priests do their business.  These bodies won't be looted today," he said making it obvious that he thought the Half-Orc to be little more than a rogue.  Gren had always tried to remind himself to not judge people by their race or appearance.  He was a Half-Ogre and was often on the receiving end of such intollerance.  Unfortunately, Gren grew up in a war-like familial tribe of Ogres; and for as long as he could remember they had been at war with a neighboring tribe of Half-Orcs.  The hatred was bred into him.

Hearing Erasmus declare himself a physician, the guard turns and ushers him to his side, "Well at least we have some luck in this blasted affair. We're setting up an area for the wounded. My guards will bring them to you and you do what you can to ease their suffering. DAVIDOVICH! HELP THAT LANKY KID WITH THAT BLOCK!" he yells out as he leaves Erasmus to await the wounded. A guard perks up at hearing his name called and runs over to assist Dalinar.

Nori's mood just kept going from bad to worse. He had followed the half ogre till he stopped, his hands balled up into fists. When he drew closer and noticed s half orc was nearby, well that was the last straw. He didn't care if the watch was around or not, nor that the didn't stood easily twice as high as him. With a mighty shove into the back of the ogres buttocks, Nori made his presence known after being ignored so long.

"Oi! Wha's yor problem. Cant ya see where ya goin'?", He was a bit more upset at almost being trampled without being seen than he was about the sweet roll.

OOC: Not gonna do a str test unless you need it gm. The shove was mostly just for show. Although, I was hoping to push him into the half orc.

Gren stumbled a step forward, which of course caused him to push the orc back a little further as well.  What trick is this? he wondered as he tried to figure out how the Half-Orc managed to push him from behind.  He looked behind him as he heard someone bark something out.  It was then he noticed the ugly looking Dwarf.

"Sorry, I don't have eyes in my butt.  Who the dreg are you?"

As if a thought suddenly struck him, he patted his money pouch tethered to the side of his belt.  It was still there.  The rude little runt didn't swipe it.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:45, Tue 27 Mar 2012.

In reply to Gren Boarshead (msg #15):

 Nori growled a response, he was not sure who or what a dreg was, but he didnt like the sound of it. Still, the ogre did ask who he was and Nori's dwarven pride would not allow him to go further unnoticed, "Da names Nori from me clan Hammerfist, and ya almost ran me ovah when ya was rushin like a mad bull. Nex' time I'll cutcha leg out from unda ya, jus' ta pop ya in da face."

Tempus pulled up short when the old man who had fallen from the balcony wasn't laying in a pile of rubble where he should have been. Scurvy Gods are toying with me again, blast their hides! Did the old git just disappear in mid-air? Tempus could see the pile of coins he was to receive in payment for his guard duties dwindling more and more in his mind and as each coin vanished his ire grew. He payed no attention to the three humanoids of varying sizes as he pushed his way between them. He cared not be they dwarf, half-orc, half-ogre, or half-friggin-unicorn! All he cared about was finding the old man and guarding his body if need be to insure he got paid!

Tempus' gaze scanned the ground and the surrounding area for any signs of the old man, preparing to do whatever was necessary to get to him. "I'm sticking to hunting bounty after this job!" Tempus muttered, not caring who heard. "This is no way for a man to earn a meal!"


<Tempus rolled 19 using 1d20+3 ((16)) for STR roll if needed to push thru players>

<Tempus rolled 18 using 1d20+5 ((13)) for perception search for signs of the old man>

Gren bent over a little, "Well ain't you cute?  I can tell that you can't be movin' as fast as most folks with such short and stubby legs; but to b'fair I did yell 'move' and had ya trimmed the hair out of yer ears you could'a had a head start."

Yep, the loss of his strawberries and having to deal with this crowd had put Gren in a foul mood.

Dale bristled at being called 'scrawny' but then realized that a half-ogre, half-orc, and a dwarf were arguing only a few yards away.  Given his current company, the description was probably apt.  Pushing James' laughter to the back of his mind, Dale helped Davidovich carry one of the wounded to where they were being gathered.

The Dwarf didn't phase Gren, not with the childhood Gren had.  He did catch a look of the City Watch moving around over Nori's shoulder and had to remind himself why he was still here.  Gren chuckled.  "So how do you want this to go down Nori of Clan Hammerfist?  You want to duke it out in the streets or do you want me to buy you a stout tonight down at the Inn of the Salty Seawife?"
This message was lightly edited by the player at 00:41, Wed 28 Mar 2012.

Nori was ready to sock the giant half orge with one if his oversized fists, but the mention of ale stopped him dead in his tracks. A quick thought process occured in his head. Fight...flee city watch our end up in jail...no ale. Wait...finish here...drink ale....maybe have a chance to punch ogre later with less people around.

"Best be makin it two stouts. One ta drink and one ta wash da taste out me mouth. Horrible what be passin for drink round here."

Ooc: You sir, are a genius.

By now the crowd has mostly dispersed, disappearing into buildings nearby or rushing down streets to get away from any potential lingering danger they might be subject to. The only ones left in the town square are the characters and the city guard at this point. As a group of guardsmen and Tempus lift a particularly heavy beam and to his dismay, find the corpse of Selmund Wulfa crushed underneath. A few of the guardsmen swear and share his feelings about their future employment status and payment. One of them finally has the good sense to call the captain over.

Seeing the corpse of the politicians, a steady stream of obscenities flows forth from the captain's mouth, colorful as a rainbow spawned from hell, "Bloody fuckin hells, what god did I piss off to deserve this... This is gonna catch me hell... ALRIGHT MEN LISTEN UP! YOU LOT, YOU TOO!" he yells motioning to the nearby group, "You are going to find me whoever or whatever is responsible for this and you are going to do it quickly and discreetly! I don't care how you do it or who you have to interrogate to get it done but by the gods it WILL get done! Consider yourselves under my employment and the reward is a damn heavy bag of gold. NOW HOP!"

Vivo approaches the shouting man, stopping a close but respectable distance away.  "If you think that is the best use of our talents.  Where, then, do we start?  Did you see where the attackers went?  Have you a scrap of cloth for the hounds?  The city is no small place."

  Taron looks at the others assembled here and then at the leader of the guards. He tilts his head and looks at the man, sizing him up. Who is he to just assume that his affairs are also Tarons, or any of these mens. Some standing there may know the Captain, but the young Monk has never let eyes on him before, and he doesn't like being 'asked' what to do in so strong a tone. Nope doesn't like it at all.

  Then he remembers the words of his mentor Brother of the Sacred Mountain. "We can not always know what lies in store for us, nor why things are layed in our path. But there are always two choices, the first is easy, walk away and take another path. Or, ye can stay on the one you face and see why it is there."

  That memory of Brother Cayson looking down at him as a lad, has stuck with him many years now. It is most likely the reason he left the Monastery at such an age. So he reckons the path the Captain has offers is one he cannot pass on. Without saying a word he steps forward, standing to the left of the big man of Orc blood, and waits to hear what more the Captain haas to say, if anything.

To Vivo's question the captain of the guards hesitates for a moment, obviously not having thought it completely through, "Well you could...what about the..." Obviously flustered he takes a moment of silence before seeming to come to a conclusion, "Poor ol' Wulfa kept promising to deal with the thieves guild if he was elected to the city council. Maybe you should start there. See if ya can't pound some information out of those damned miscreants. I'd give you an escort to their front door but, frankly, if we knew exactly where it was, we'da knocked down their blasted door and arrested every single one of em years ago. All we know is that it's somewhere under the city, likely the sewers. Gooda place to start as any I suppose. There's an entrance to the sewers down by the docks. Any of the sailors there can point ya to it."
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:07, Wed 28 Mar 2012.