In which the Five return to Balefyre to find the city not quite the same as they'd left it...

-

It's a day's walk south from the incipient settlement of Midway along the wagon trail to Balefyre, a journey that concludes without incident. The landscape is quiet and largely empty, the recent snows marking the conclusion of the autumn harvest. Few are out and about as the Five reaches the inhabited margin of the city-state's modest holdings. Fields are fallow and dusted in white, the cold significantly damping the fish reek of the fertilizer that makes this dry grassland cultivatable.

The sun is going down when the city walls come into view. A chill breeze blows inland from the sea. Unusually, two flags fly from the mast atop Fire Watch Keep instead of the customary one. The familiar city standard now undulates below an unfamiliar red banner- a black sword and spear crossed upon a bloody field.

As has long been custom, the city gates close shortly after dark; the sun is just kissing the western horizon when the adventurers arrive in the shadow of Main Gate. Four guards man the entrance instead of the usual two. One pair of sentries wears the orange-lined dark-grey cloaks of the Fire Watch. The other pair are clad in robust red-lacquered armor; they stay in the background, but are obviously in charge. One of the city watchmen recognizes the weary travelers- he's messed with them at the keep barracks and sparred a little with Gronk in the yard. Wendal is his name and he's just about to usher them through, uninspected, when one of the red-armored guards makes a loud tisking sound and fixes him with a disapproving glare.

"State your business in Balefyre." the chagrined Wendal commands, sounding rather uncomfortable with this forced assertion of authority.

Despite the change in tone, Wendal and his fellow city watchman quickly usher the Five through the checkpoint, making a show of inspecting their gear but being less than intrusive in the process. As the adventurers emerge from the arched passage under the gatehouse into the Gate Ward, Wendal says, "You'd best be gettin' indoors quick as you can. Curfew's about to start." None of the Five recall a curfew being in place the last time they were in the city, three or four day's past. As they walk away, Wendal adds, in whisper, after them, "I wouldn't go back to the keep, if I were you."

His tone suggests that he doesn't feel at liberty to elaborate at the moment.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:50, Mon 30 May 2016.

"I say let's get to the house and maybe we can figure out what's going on once we are there," Ulfgar suggested.  He knew the five of them had various ways to investigate things, even if they couldn't leave their abode.  Nic had his Raven to send messages, Corros could mind-chat people, and Frostbeard could speak with animals and assume a variety of unobtrusive forms as needed.  Figuring out what happened in Balefyre would be important, as would avoid getting arrested after 'curfew' it seemed.

After their initial appearance, the ravens have waned in number, some appearing to lose interest and ranging farther afield.  They're still in Nicolai's peripheral vision, though.  The core of the unkindness appears to be seven individuals (seven for a secret never to be told, singsongs a ghost of Nicolai's internal monologue from his long-suppressed childhood) who are - for lack of a better term - scouting the road ahead despite the complete lack of any instructions.

As the party approaches Balefyre and the new banner comes into view, Nicolai catches the gaze of the closest raven and dismisses it with a slight motion of eye and chin.  It's only once he's done it that he realizes the corvids understand this sliver of thieves' cant.  It is not a wholly-comfortable revelation.

Despite intense curiosity, the Ardani makes himself unobtrusive while the party passes through the Main Gate.  He's silent until the sentry post is out of sight and several casual glances into shop windows have assured him no one's following.  It's actually a matter of some effort to find an urchin still out and about, which is an indicator in and of itself.  He beckons the child over with a hint of a coin held between two fingers.  "Hey, runner.  I need a message to the Waterbearers.  Tell them it's time for a professional discussion at the old Bálint house."

As the child scampers away, Nicolai turns his attention to his companions.  "This next part is no job for a street rat."  He withdraws his silver raven figurine and murmurs the phrase to awaken it.  "Find Commandant Overmark.  Inform her we're back in town and need a briefing."

Are you responsible?  It's a question Corros keeps turning over and over in his mind.  He hadn't given Jenna an answer.  It wasn't that simple, was it?  He had been part of it.  Maybe even played a larger role than most, but they had to rise up, didn't they?  That's what everything they had been told, everything they had experienced had led to.  The Eleventh Finger had managed to hide all intention of playing the double game, of using all the ensuing chaos to tilt the nobles into confusion and then climb into their ranks on the backs of the masses that supported his vision, selling out everyone on every side.  Thousands died, and it was his fault.  It didn't rest with Corros, did it?

How much of it was justification and how much of it was true kept the warlock occupied on the return to Balefyre.  Occupied enough that he didn't see that the city had become occupied as well, new banners and new soldiers at the gates.

"It looks like the mercenaries are here after all," he says to the other softly after passing the gates.  "We may have been gone far too long.  Curfew?  That just makes the streets more dangerous."

Corros shifts, feeling the difference in the city they left and the city they returned to.  Getting back into the familiar confines of the buildings has usually been a relief.  Now, it feels almost as alien as a forest.  The place is breathing differently, the blood of its people moving in new patterns.

"Let's go home.  I know a shortcut."



City Secrets ability to move through the city twice as fast as normal.

Jenna moved through the City streets with the others, following Corros as he led them down alleys and passageways that she did not recognise. More than once she thought that they were lost, but always the Warlock eventually led them back to a street that she was familiar with.

"We should be mindful of Master Padin as well" the blonde haired young woman remarked to the others when Nicolai mentioned seeking out the Commandant. "If he knows that we have returned - and I think we should presume that if he does not he soon will - he will be expecting us to pay him a visit with the items that he tasked us to fetch. And I suspect that he will not take our word for it if we claim that we found nothing of interest."

"We need to give him something. Not necessarily the papers that we actually recovered -" Jenna glanced over at Corros., hoped that the Warlock had not entered her head without her knowing as she remembered how she had felt when he had taken the writings about the Weapon "- but something that will satisfy him."

She paused for a moment, pulled her cloak tighter about her shoulders. "Or be prepared for him trying to take what he may see as his." It was clear that the blonde haired woman did not trust Padin. Although to be fair, at the moment she wasn't sure if there was anyone in Balefyre that she did trust.

With hired messengers and summoned spies dispatched on party business, Corros and Nicolai expertly lead their companions homeward by the city's less-frequented paths, arriving back at the party's estate in the River Ward unhindered and in good time (the bell announcing the closing of the gates and the presumed commencement of the new curfew ring just as the party turns on to their street). They let themselves in to find Lenora waiting in the foyer with a battleaxe over her shoulder, poised to strike. The relief on her face when she recognizes the intruders is almost comical.

"Gorlana's tits! I thought they'd finally found me. Where in the hells have you been?"

The more observant notice a couple of items of men's clothing- a pair of boots and a orange-faced cloak- hanging by the door;  they clearly don't belong to any of the Five. Lenora notices this, and answers the question before it's asked.

"That's Jurvis' stuff. He's a… friend."

Blushing a little, she quickly changes the subject.

"You've been gone for a month! I'd begun to fear the worst."

With little prompting, the former Throne's Reach operative-turned-housekeeper give the party a complete rundown of the recent happenings in the city.

"The Bloodforged arrived about a week ago. It was a coup from the outside. Rumor has it they mean to sell the city to the highest bidder.

"The Fire Watch fought back at first, but they were no match for the Redcloaks. After about a dozen watchmen were killed, the rest lost their fight pretty quick. They were under-strength to begin with. A quarter of the watch is still posted at Yonder's Hole. The mine's reopened, but not many prospectors have gone up there, what with what happened to the first camp and winter coming on and everything. The Bloodforged are real selective when it comes to who can leave the city now."

Gronk interrupts, unable to contain his concerned curiosity any longer, "What about Kara, er, Commander Overmark? Surely she wouldn't stand for this!"

"No one's seen Commander Overmark since the skirmishes ended. Word on the street is that she rots in a cell in the keep. X is in charge of the remaining Fire Watch now, and he's under Zardis' thumb- Zardis Kreyg is the leader of the Bloodforged. The Fire Council still sits, most of it anyway-Muzz Breakwater stood up to Zardis and now he's locked up too. The others are lame ducks, too scared to speak out or do anything that angers the invaders. Except for the local whores, there's very few Balefyreans thrilled about the new administration in town.

"It's relatively safe to move about town during the day. The Bloodforged aren't above stopping people and 'fining' them for various invented infractions- I hear Toesplitter's none too happy about the new boys horning in on his racket- but as long as one shows the Redcloaks the proper 'respect', there hasn't been too much trouble.

Oh, yes. A mister Thumek stops by nearly every day asking after you. He bid me give you this immediately upon your return."

Lenore hands over a folded, sealed piece of paper. It reads,


At your earliest possible convenience, please visit me at Warehouse 8 to discuss our outstanding business arrangement.
Please be discreet.
Come during hours of darkness and do not allow yourselves to be detained along the way.
Tell no one of what you have seen or done during your recent travels.

L.P.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:25, Tue 31 May 2016.

"I'm sure if we wanted to slip out after dark, I could make sure we wouldn't be detected," Ulfgar offered, thinking of his Pass Without Trace spell.  "Presuming Jenna has some leathers or such to don," Frostbeard added.  Clanking around in metal armor wouldn't be optimal, even with powerful magics covering their movements.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:47, Mon 30 May 2016.

Gronk is clearly upset by Lenora's news about the Commandant. He can barely contain himself.

"Pardon my Common, but fuck Master Padid! That weird old man can wait. Those bloody mercs have got Commander Overmark in a dungeon! We gotta get her outta there!"

Although it's not delicately delivered, the half-orc warrior's opinion is clear.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 21:25, Tue 31 May 2016.

”I’m sure I can find something in my pack that will suffice.” Jenna nods to Ulfgar. The blonde is perched on a chair, one leg crossed over the other, her armour propped up against the wall next to her shield and Arma’s Blessing, though she still wears the same tunic that she had worn under it, the sleeve slit where the creature’s weapon had sliced through it, the crimson stains vivid against the white, showing where she had shed her blood for her Goddess. Her hands are clasped around a mug of hot tea, of the non herbal variety, her hair pulled up into a ponytail.

At Gronk’s outburst her head turns in the half orc’s direction. She and Gronk had had their differences before when it came to Overmark, so she pauses for a moment, takes a sip of her tea before she speaks, not wishing to pour fuel onto a potential fire. ”I take your point Gronk, but something tells me that Master Padin is not going to wish to wait for us to present ourselves to him at our convenience. Do you want to be looking over your shoulder watching for him to stab us in the back as we attempt to rescue Commander Overmark?”

Corros sits on his own chair, close to Jenna, but not touching.  Not quite.  In an almost nervous tic, he keeps rubbing his shoulders trying to get the feeling to come back into his arms after carrying his pack on the long walk back to the city.  Some frames just aren't meant for long hauls of heavy gear and Corros has one.  Not that he complains about it.  That often.

"I agree that we need to speak to Padin.  We need to speak to everyone we know."  He pauses and looks at Gronk.  "My friend, we will try to get Overmark freed, but rushing the keep isn't going to work.  I'd like to speak to the streetrats again.  They're going to have a different outlook on how to move through the city and what's going on.  I'll talk to them, but they might tell us to head right on over to the hells unless we clear that tunnel their friend disappeared down.  Which bring us back to Padin, I suppose.  Or maybe it only sort of bring us back to Padin."

The warlock glances at his pack and the scroll case strapped to the outside.  "We're going to have to give him something.  One of the crystals?"

Leaning against the kitchen counter, Nicolai contemplates his own tea, lost in thought.  At length, he looks up.  "Corros has the right of it.  We need information before we can act.  That will take time.  Right now, we don't understand the environment well enough to make many plans.

"Having said that, I believe Gronk's instincts are correct."  He gestures at the ex-gladiator with his mug.  "Commandant Overmark is probably the one ally we have in this city who possesses a degree of integrity.  That alone would argue for trying to spring her, but she's also well-regarded by most of the citizens.  Free, even if she couldn't show her face, she'd be a figurehead and rallying point."

His gaze meets Corros' in a moment of silent communication that doesn't need the Library's aid.  Both of them know what happens when a population under pressure is given a cause and a symbol.  Nicolai tilts his head in acknowledgement of what he's suggesting, then continues.

"If we're going to trade on reputation, our own needs to be spotless.  We need to display more integrity than the Fire Council has shown us thus far.  That means honoring our commitment to Padin.  He's almost certainly an arcanist of some power; even if he's not a practitioner himself, he's clearly well-versed in the lore of the arts and has substantial mundane resources.  A man like that is also going to soak up information and we should wring him dry.  Politely, of course."  His lips quirk in a faint smile.

"As to what to give him - as I said, information.  Thanks to Corros' universal literacy, we know something of the place itself, and we've observed that time there runs more slowly than it does outside - if not going sideways.  We also," he hesitates, "all experienced some foreign influence on our emotions. which is a hazard any follow-up expedition should know of.  Going on, we also have at least a partial bestiary of the things that dwell there.  As for the other items... we did agree to deliver any arcane lore we found.  I'm not comfortable reneging on that, however dangerous the experiments we seem to have uncovered."

Gronk takes a couple of deep breaths while he listens to the others. By the time Nic finishes his assessment, the half-orc has visibly calmed down.

"You guys make a lot of sense. I don't trust Padin- he's too nice and too weird- but I do trust you. If we're going to see Padid tonight, can we at least get a couple o' hours of sleep first?"

-
This message was last edited by the player at 00:58, Thu 09 June 2016.

"When did you change your mind?" Jenna's eyebrow arches and she's unable to keep the surprise from her voice when Nicolai gives voice to the possibility of handing over the papers that they had uncovered. "Did you not say that there was hardly anyone in this City that you would trust with so much as a butter knife yesterday?" At least, it had been yesterday to them. " Or did I mishear you?"

"Who knows what he might do with such knowledge? Or try to do? Even if he doesn't succeed who can say what the consequences might be? " The Priestess shrugs her shoulders. "I have no affinity for this place, but nor do I seek to see it razed to the ground. Furthermore, keep the papers and potentially we have a bargaining chip should  we require it."

Nicolai shrugs fluidly.  "I still don't trust him, but we also need allies more than we did yesterday.  He's powerful and well-informed and he seems to know a few things about doing business discreetly.  In the current environment," he gestures with his mug at the darkened street outside, "that makes him someone I'm less willing to risk offending by withholding parts of what we agreed to bring him."

"A middle ground, yeah? Corros interjects.  He's been siding with Nic in most negotiations and then watching as Jenna's skepticism has been proven.  Maybe he feels like he owes her one, maybe he's lost objectivity, but Corros wants to find a way to back her concerns this time.  He assumes Nic can see that written all over.

"We need to deal fair, but we don't have to lay every card down.  We agreed to hand over the goods we found, but not all of them.  But let's tell Padin we're holding some back for our own research.  Relics we might consider selling later.  That way we're being upfront, but still watching what he does.  Neither one of us can do anything without all the documents, and if he makes a move, we know it's him. None of us trust him, let's be up front about it."

"Hm."  Nicolai's eyes unfocus as he considers Corros' proposal.  "Given that you are the local expert on the Sleeper and we need to understand more about the ruins' connection to it, that's not even a lie.  We do need to commit research."  He smiles mirthlessly.  "And by 'we,' I mean 'you.'

"I'm fine with telling him we're keeping a bargaining chip for later.  I just don't want to be in the position of having to hide lies from him."  His eyes unfocus again.  "I'm afraid I'm about to have to tell a very large number of lies and the more I tell, the harder it is to keep them all straight..."

The Five rest for a few hours, at the end of which Nic's raven spy returns to report having been unable to find Overmark at the keep, or anywhere else in the city, for that matter. The bird did, however, overhear talk that supporting the rumor that the commandant is alive and being held prisoner in the keep's dungeon.

Leaving their estate, the Five wind their way through the empty city streets to Warehouse 8, once again avoiding contact with any other souls brave or foolish enough to ignore the curfew. The companions arrive at Padín's warehouse just as a couple of Redcloaks appear to spot them. Seemingly of its own accord, the wicket door opens under Nicolai's knuckles and the Five quickly usher themselves inside, shutting the door behind them. The dimly lit warehouse is still packed with freight, and seemingly uninhabited, but the adventurers get the feeling that they are not alone there- a strong sense that they are being watched by something just beyond the shadows.

The party rounds a stack of crates at the back of the warehouse to find Thumek waiting for them at the stairway down to Padin's private warren. He leads them underground and opens the heavy bronze doors to the master's chambers.

Lovad Padín looks different somehow. His dress is the same, as are the fundamental features of his face, but the more perceptive among the Five note subtle differences. He looks older, more pinched and drawn. In his thin, reedy voice, Padin bids them sit around the same low, intricately carved hardwood table where he pitched his initial business proposal. As before, Thumek serves light refreshments.

Seated comfortably, and feeling unusually relaxed and open, the Five recount their experiences in the City of the Forgotten ones, leaving out very little. Master Padín listens intently, long-nailed fingers folded in his lap, his gaze focused in turn on each speaker. On the matter of the sentient creatures encountered in the tunnel loop (i.e. the nothic, the helmed horror, and the banshee), Padín opines that they were likely members of the first expedition that he dispatched, corrupted somehow by the time-distorting magic of the place. As further corroboration, Padín confirms the provenance of the greatsword taken from the black knight.

Bidding Thumek to take the blade, Padín gets down to business, "Now, what artifacts were you able to secure from the ruins?"

Nic and Corros are forthright in their response. As they hand over a selection of ancient documents and crystals recovered from Master Control, they explain that they are keeping a portion of both for their own research purposes. Padín appears somewhat taken aback by this announcement. He looks at Nic and Corros searchingly, then nods once, slowly. Without another word he begins studying the proffered artifacts with trembling fingers. As they flick across the lines of script on the first fragile page, Padin's pale green eyes shine with a life that the Five haven't seen from him during their brief acquaintance. With a force of will, Padín tears his gaze away from the fragile parchments, covering them with a fine silk handkerchief as if to hide them from himself. He looks at the Five again, but it's as if he's having trouble seeing them. What seem like minutes pass in silence.

"These finds are quite marvelous. Thank you." Padín finally responds, fully present again. Although his gratitude seems genuine, his displeasure at the Five's decision to withhold a portion of the artifacts is apparent.

He signals to Thumek who leaves the room with the greatsword and returns forthwith carrying a small, ornate chest. The major domo places it on the table in front of the adventurers and lifts its lid to reveal a substantial pile of coin and gemstones (OOC: estimated value of the reward is 5,000 GP).

"Of course, I can pay you more for the rest of your collection. And I am willing to share what I can learn from them as well. You see, these items are like pieces of a mosaic. Too few, and the picture does not reveal itself. If you keep some of the artifacts, it is likely that neither of us will learn much of value. Study them, by all means, but when you have learned all that you can, please remember that my offer still stands."

Padín leaves the matter at that.

On the subject of Balefyre's current political situation, Padín responds, "Regime uncertainty and martial law are bad for business. It is in my best interest to restore the former administration, despite its myriad flaws, to power. I am not opposed to offering you indirect support in your efforts to eject the Bloodforged from city politics, but I must be discrete. I have no wish to be associated with any form of insurrection. That too, would be bad for business, worse perhaps. What, pray tell, do you have in mind?"


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:10, Fri 08 July 2016.

His professional mask back in place, Nicolai nods sagely at Padin's ill-concealed pique.  "Of course, Master Padin.  I'm sure you understand that my associate," he gestures smoothly to Corros, "is a scholar and linguist in his own right.  I'd feel almost cruel if we prevented him from pursuing one of his driving passions."  He suppresses an internal chuckle and a mental image of Corros disrobing Jenna with a set of bolt-cutters.  "I've no doubt the two of you will have much to discuss once you're wrung all the knowledge you can from your respective projects."

"As far as the current, ah, instability in the city... at present, our greatest need is information.  We have a general intent, which is the restoration of order and self-governance to Balefyre.  We have several possible vectors toward that goal.  But we were rather surprised to find that we'd been gone a month, objectively, so before we can develop any of those vectors into plans, we need to understand the political landscape.  And, of course, we share your need to remain discreet.  We don't," he smiles cynically, "want to appear as a threat to the Bloodforged."  Yet.

"A return to normal in the city seems like the wisest path forward," Corros says.  He chooses to ignore, for the moment, that "normal" was a rather high level of messed up for a great many of the citizens of Balefyre.  And if the Five are going into the business of insurrection, Corros hopes that he can do a at least a little something about that.  Not to quote the Eleventh Finger, but if you are going to break eggs, at least make an omelette that you want to eat.

"Should you be interested, sir, I would be happy to relate to you what I find in my own studies of these documents, and the history of those ruins.  I do enjoy the challenge of trying to make sense of all of this.  I'm sure you do too."  It's not a lie, exactly.  It's just not how the warlock would care to pass the time.  But they need allies, even if they don't trust them, and information about what his happening with The Sleeper, regardless of the source.  "If you would be willing to share as well," he adds.  "There is much to understand, yeah?"  So much for sounding cultured...

Corros will wait until the negotiations and information session is winding down before bringing forward his final point.  "Master Padin," he starts smoothly, "I'm hoping you could help me with one final detail.  Before we went missing for several weeks, one of the local street rats came to me with the story of a missing friend.  Given that this "friend" had stolen some gold from us earlier, we decided to try and track him down.  Unfortunately, we lost his trail in the sewers near here."  Corros keeps his expression hopeful, innocent, and light.  "You are clearly a man in touch with his place in the city, and I wondered if you knew of any threats around here that might have trapped the missing youth?  People you have had to defend yourself against.  One of our advantages in fighting the Bloodforged would be utilizing the tunnels beneath the city, and for that, we need the street rats on our side as guides.  A part I believe they would be happier with if we could return their missing friend."
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:01, Sat 04 June 2016.

Jenna has said little as Corros and Nicolai discourse with Master Padin, the blonde haired Priestess simply sitting back in her seat, cradling an intricately wrought goblet in her hands, sipping infrequently at the red wine within it, offering the occasional comment with regard to their adventures in the underground City, but spending most of her time swirling the wine it contains around as she listens to the conversation going back and forth, from time to time looking around at the artworks that adorn the walls, not that she expected to recognise any of them.

Heeding Ulfgar's earlier advice she had removed her armour,  was clad in a scarlet tunic that she had plucked from her pack, a dark cloak borrowed from Lenora worn over the tunic as they had made their way through the streets, that cloak now hanging on a hook, the short sleeves of the tunic revealing a little of the fresh bandage wrapped around her left arm. Unlike their previous visit to this place though she was not without her armour and weapons altogether, for before they had left their accommodation she had placed her chain mail, shield, and Arma's Blessing within Ulfgar's magical bag of holding.

"I am a merchant and a scholar. I can only speak intelligently to matters pertaining to those realms. My sources don't extend far into the local underworld. I will do my best to answer your questions.

"The leader of the Bloodforged is the eldest son of a disgraced Tokari noble house named Zardis Kreyg. He is also an albino- irrelevant except for recognition purposes. As far as I can tell, he resides in the keep with his bodyguard and about half of his men. The others are spread about the city- about 20 at the Fire Watch Guardhouse, not far from here. Zardis' organization boasts approximiately 200 men-at-arms, infantry only, veterans most of them, experienced and well-equipped. They also boast a warmage of some repute. Apparently, the Fire Council had a pre-contract in place with the Bloodforged, but cancelled it for some reason." He gives the Five an almost playful knowing look. "This may have prompted Zardis' decision to take the city and hold it for ransom, presumably to recoup anticipated revenue lost by the contract cancellation. Balefyre is a rich prize for any ambitious maritime power, even richer when access to the platinum mines in the north is considered. However, at the moment, the Bloodforged don't have direct control of mining camp. They lack the strength to mount and expedition to seize it and hold the city simultaneously. Yonder's Hole is essentially under siege now, as the Bloodforged won't permit its resupply.

"Zardis keeps the Fire Council- most of it, that is- in place to continue running the city's day-to-day affairs. They continue to collect import duties, for example. They are no more than puppets now, though. He has declared himself Lord Protector of Balefyre, giving himself the power of a dictator. In effect, the city is under martial law. Zardis also controls what's left of the Fire Watch- about 50 spears. 25 remain at Yonder's Hole and the rest have been dismissed. First Sergeant D'Kord is acting commandant now- he is cooperating fully with Zardis. They've already recruited a small army of informers. Anyone who acts or speaks out publically against the current regime is arrested, Commander Overmark and Councilman Breakwater being the most prominent examples. No doubt, the Bloodforged will try to squeeze every last copper out of the Council coffers before they find a buyer and leave the city.

"The Bloodforged have allowed mercantile business to proceed more or less as usual. Incoming and outgoing vessels are thoroughly searched for 'contraband'. Business has already started to slow down, however. News of the takeover has no doubt spread to nearly every shore of the Great Inner Sea by now, or it will soon. I believe that foreign merchants are afraid that the Bloodforged may do with their cargos what they did with the city- hold them for ransom. Therefore, their reluctance to send their cargos here would not be surprising. Fortunately, Balefyre feeds itself. However, other consumer goods might be much harder to come by in the very near future.

"I cannot speak to the city's 'grey economy' except to report that the Bloodforged appear to be taking over the protection racket. We've been approached by Redcloaks offering to provide 'security' for a 'modest' weekly fee. You've been here long enough to know that extortion has traditionally been Toesplitter's purview. The curfew can't be helping the illicit activities of the city's various unlicensed enterprises.

"The mercenaries also stop and fine citizens for all kinds of imagined offenses. The Redcloaks, as they are known, act with complete impunity. Rapes, beatings, and murders have already occurred. Petitioners are ignored or arrested.

"From all reports, the Bloodforged are growing increasingly unpopular. Allies should not be too hard to find. Organizing and mobilizing them will likely be the difficult part. Fear keeps the population in fetters."

By now, most of the Five have noticed that, although Thumek refills Padin's cup just like their own, Padin has yet to drink from it. Perhaps coincidentally, the line of questioning moves towards matters of the supernatural.

"Increased arcane or occult activities? Not that I know of. But then, that is not my area of expertise." Padin says, with a hint of a thin-lipped smile.

This line of questioning once again brings up the matter of the obviously arcane nature of the artifacts recovered from the City of the Forgotten Ones. Padin's next comments pertaining to said are addressed mostly to Corros,

"Your interpretations of the artifacts that you've chosen to keep would, of course, be very welcome, my young friend. As a scholar, you have some understanding of historiography, yes? It is always best to start with the primary sources, unsullied by preconceptions. I would very much like to study your artifacts directly, prior to hearing your thoughts. Then we can both share our own unique interpretations of the materials. Second-hand information is not without value, of course, but one should not rely on it alone. Bias is unavoidable, is it not?"

When Corros brings up the matter of the missing Drowned Rats, Padin answers quickly but says little, sticking to the obvious,

"The sewers have a reputation for being a dangerous place. Your pickpocket friends know this full well. Those who go missing in the sewers are seldom seen again, alive or dead."


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:32, Sat 04 June 2016.

Ulfgar sat quietly and listened to the discussion.  He showed a bit more interest than he had the first time, mostly because it wasn't as easy to dismiss the concerns of 'city dwellers' as he had last time, since Evra was a Balyefire resident as well.  The more he listened, the more he started to wonder how she was.  Had the Bloodforged stifled her business?  Had they tried to extort her?  Frostbeard had decided to seek out Evra and ask her to marry him when he was back in town.  The incident with the banshee had rattled him quite a bit and he didn't relish the idea that the only relationships he had was with a half-orc, a foreign spy, a religious zealot, and a frail telepathic street urchin.  While he was glad to have friends, he wanted something more.  Something to come home to.

"Albino you say," Frostbeard said, his ears picking details even as other concerns occupied his mind.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:25, Sun 05 June 2016.

Jenna remains content to let Corros and Nicolai speak on behalf of the group, the Priestess continuing to sip her wine, listen as Padin goes into detail about the activities of the Bloodforged. From time to time she glances over at Corros, looking at the Warlock when she thinks that everyone's attention is on Padin, her mind drifting back to the wordless conversation that they had shared at the waypoint, that which had ended with the promise of another conversation to follow.

The information comes quickly, Corros asking a few clarifying questions and wondering idly how effectively he would be able to pretend to be a fan of history, should it ever come to that.  Magic lore, check.  History?  The sun came up this morning.  He guesses it has been doing that for a while.

Watching Padin's cup seemingly empty without being emptied, is intriguing if only for what is says about their host.  Corros takes a few seconds to watch the more drawn version of the man and wonders if he is breathing.  Would it change their employment with the man if he wasn't?  They need more information and time to develop strategies to lever the city back onto its feet.  A situation that could make for strange bedfellows...speaking of which...Corros takes a split second to regard Jenna then pulls himself back to business.

The lack of revelation regarding the missing street rat doesn't surprise the warlock, even if Corros never mentioned that he was a pickpocket.  That wouldn't be hard to guess, but it could have been a slip.  A man of Padin's resources and knowledge doesn't get to where he is by being careless and probing farther could only make the situation for all of them more precarious.

"Thank you for your information and your patience with us, sir.  We know that the changes since we have been gone haven't been easy for anyone.  Hopefully we can right this before more are made to suffer."  Not his best noble speech, but it would probably suffice.

DAY 8 OF THE OCCUPATION

Having completed their audience with Lovad Padin, the Five take their leave and stealthily make their way back to their estate in the River Ward. After a few more hours of sleep and a late breakfast, courtesy of a slightly grumpy Lenore, the group splits up.

Singly and in small groups, they depart Bálint house to do a little business and test the waters in the city...

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:59, Thu 09 June 2016.

Ulfgar and Gronk

The dwarf druid and half-orc gladiator head to Strongarm's Smithy to look into purchasing some new armor. Strongarm is puttering around his workspace, forges not yet up and running. Ulfgar gets the smith's attention by removing the thrikreen chiten "skins" from his Bag of Holding and setting them down on the countertop.

"Interesting. I've never worked with this material before. From bug-men you say?" Strongarm raps on the bone-like hide with his knuckles. "Interesting. I believe I could make these into a suit of plate for you, but I'm going to need some help. I've got an associate who does leather work for me. Give me 500 gold pieces and three days and I'll give you a custom suit of bug skin plate (Hide armor, AC 15 + Dex modifier). Whattaya say? Deal? Alright, step in here- I just have to take your measurements."

"And you, big boy? Basic scale, you said? I've got a suit right here that I think'll do you quite nicely. I'll have to let it out a bit, but, yeah. 100 gold pieces and I can have it done for you by tomorrow."

Gronk asks Ulfgar to remove the smoke-grey plate armor taken from the helmed horror beneath the City of the Forgotten Ones, and shows it to the hirsute blacksmith. Strongarm studies it carefully- it's easy to see that he's quite impressed with the workmanship and quality of the steel.

"It's a fine piece of work, that's for certain. And so light! It must be enchanted. That's all I can tell you. You'll have to ask a wizard what the enchantment does. I wouldn't put it on until then. Could be cursed."

Party Purse -600GP for Custom Hide Armor and Scale Mail

When Gronk asks how the occupation has affected business at the smithy, Strongarm looks around before answering, his voice significantly lower than before, "It's not been good. If I don't give 'em a hefty discount, the Redcloaks say they'll shut me down. I'm bleeding cash, I am."

After concluding their business with Strongarm, the pair turn north on to the Neck to visit Arcane Essentials, the Temple of M'c-Donal, and Evra's herbalist shop. They have to pass the Fire Watch Guard House on the way. A quartet of Redcloaks stops them under the arch leading to the Gate Ward.

"Hey! Green-skin! You got a permit for that thing?" One of the mercs demands, sneeringly, pointing at Spike. Gronk takes a deep breath and tries to smile while he shakes his head. Normally, he'd laugh off such disrespect, but not now, not coming from the same bastards that have got Kara Overmark chained up in dark cell. He wants to smash the racist bully in the mouth with Spike but he manages to maintain his cool. This is neither the time nor the place to kick off the insurrection.

"That'll be 10 gold pieces, then, for carrying an unlicensed weapon within city limits," the merc continues.

Gronk pays the fine, then makes the mistake of asking, "So where does one go to get a permit?"

The Redcloaks just laugh and wave the pair along.

Party Purse -10GP to pay "fine"

To identify the enchanted items recovered during the expedition to the City of the Forgotten Ones, Ulfgar and Gronk pop into Arcane Essentials.

"Your witchling friend left just a few minutes ago. You're not here for him? One of the books, then? No? Of course I can identify your enchanted items- that is, I can try," Arlö lisps.

Ulfgar removes each of the items from his Bag of Holding and places them in a row on the countertop.

"Ooh, what have we here? You always bring the most interesting pieces for me to look at. I should be able to identify these for you- the fee will be 20 gold pieces per item. Is that acceptable? Very good, let me begin."

The elf assembles the components needed to perform the identify spell and then sets to work. After about three quarters of an hour of closed-eyes chanting and hand waving, the diviner's report is ready.

'Smoke': Enchanted plate mail, AC 18. Counts as medium armor. This allows wearer to add his/her dexterity bonus to his/her AC. Penalty to stealth as with all other plate armors. Smoke is considered magical armor for purposes of determining attack damage to wearer.

Pendant of Proof Against Fear: Grants wearer advantage to all saving throws v. fear.

Ring of Animal Friendship: This ring has 3 charges, and it regains 1d3 expended charges daily at dawn. While wearing the ring, you can use an action to expend 1 of its charges to cast one of the following spells:
• Animal friendship (save DC 13)
• Fear (save DC 13), targeting only beasts that have an Intelligence of 3 or lower
• Speak with animals

Ring of Evasion: This ring has 3 charges, and it regains 1d3 expended charges daily at dawn. When you fail a Dexterity saving throw while wearing it, you can use your reaction to expend 1 of its charges to succeed on that saving throw instead.

Party Purse -80GP for identification of enchanted items.

The next stop is the Temple of M'c-Donal, a modest house of worship just off of the Farmer's Market square. The kindly cleric there politely declines Ulfgar's offer, explaining that the farms outside the city more or less cease their agricultural activities with the onset of winter. "Perhaps come spring.",  he suggests. The priest offers the visitors The Farmer's blessing before they depart.

"Be fruitful."

Gronk drops a gold piece into the unglazed earthen offering bowl on the way out.

Party Purse -1GP Donation

When Ulfgar enters Nature's Way Herbalist, Evra looks up from some dried herbs that she's bagging. "Ulfy!" she exclaims in a voice that cracks with emotion. After a long pause, she strides over to the dwarf and slaps him hard on his hairy right cheek.

"Where in the hells have you been? I thought you'd left me!" With that, the half-elf stoops down to embrace her dwarven paramour, breaking into tears, "Don't you ever do that to me again!"

(Not sure if Ulfgar wants to propose right now or wait a bit for more romantic circumstances. If so, she accepts, but is somewhat disappointed by the lack of an engagement ring.)

After picking up some herb plants and stopping by a carpenter to purchase planters and trellises, the pair returns to Bálint house via Dayv's Pie Wagon, dodging roaming Redcloaks along the way. Once home, Ulfgar sets about using his druidic magic to create a defensive topiary arrangement of thorny vines and shrubberies in the tiny front garden. Gronk, meanwhile, works out inside.

Party Purse -52GP for assorted plants, various gardening supplies, and a couple of tasty meat pies from Dayv's.

Subtotal: -743GP

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:41, Tue 07 June 2016.

Corros

Corros accompanies Ulfgar and Gronk as far as Strongarm's Smithy before setting off on his own. The wily, streetwise former urchin manages to avoid Redcloak patrols completely. He wanders around the Harbor Ward until he spots a bump-and-grab team of Drowned Rats lingering on the fringes of the busy Fish Market- or rather, until the Drowned Rats spot him spotting them. One of them slips away into the crowd, returning a few minutes later with Shim. The young rogue approaches Corros, his two companions keeping a weary eye on the impromptu meeting from just out of earshot.

"So, your queer friend in Warehouse 8 don't know nothin' 'bout nothin', eh?" Shim says, frowning. Despite the disappointing news, the boy doesn't just cut and run- a good sign. Corros continues with the line of questioning.

"More disappearances? No, not any more Rats at least. But you still ain't solved the last ones, so..."

Unwilling to further press a sore subject, Corros changes the topic of conversation to the occupation.

"Well, business ain't been so good lately. We do most of our best work at night, but now that's not possible on account of the fuckin' curfew. A few of the boys have caught beatin's from the Redcloaks for bein' out after dark. They don't arrest us street kids 'cause there's no money in it, I suppose. They just kick the coin out of us and cut us loose. Anyway, I'll be glad to see the back of those fuckin' sell-sword cunts."

Being as subtle as possible, Corros inquires after sewer access to Fire Watch Keep, to which Shim replies, "It can be done, yeah. But it won't be easy, and it's gonna cost you…"

Corros is afraid to ask, but he does so anyway.

Shim thinks for a few seconds, then smiles slowly and replies, "One thousand gold pieces. Take it or leave it."

Corros doesn't commit- the boy reiterates that he's unwilling to negotiate price- so the warlock takes his leave.

"You want to think about it, go right ahead. It seems you know how to find us."

A quick stop at Arcane Essentials reveals that Arlo has a small selection of rather dusty books about ancient arcana. Due to their rarity and antiquity, they're rather expensive. Arlo does allow Corros to thumb through them, though. One of the tomes contains an entire chapter on summoning powerful entities from the outer planes. Another book offers much advice on creating artifacts of great power. Without knowing more about what "The Sleeper" and "the Weapon" is/are, it's hard to determine if any of this information would be especially pertinent or helpful. The elf diviner explains that the city library- such as it is- is located inside Council Hall. It offers public viewing of the collection five days a week, from 10am to 4pm, depending on the availability of the librarian, an elderly part-time volunteer.

From Arcane Essentials, Corros tracks down Ol' Klem. The semi-retired caravan captain is lunching alone at Pig's and Blankets. He recognizes the young warlock immediately, and welcomes the lad's company, even buying Corros an ale. The two get to talking.

"'Pace'   is coming along. My timing wasn't so good, with winter coming early and all. I would have had to take a break anyway, but the Bloodforged don't let anyone carry supplies out of the city now, so…"

Klem finishes his sentence by taking a long drink. His white whiskers drip with dark ale as he lowers the pewter tankard.

"Help? Well thanks, son, but unless you can make the Redcloaks disappear… " Old Klem laughs at his own wishful musing.

"But I'll never forget how you and your friends fought off those manticores. And you fixed my axle too! I'm still using that wagon to cart supplies up to the build site. Or was, at least. My offer still stands, though. If you want to buy a share of the inn, I'd be happy to have you and your friends on as partners. But there's no rush," Klem smiles wryly.

Having learned much, Corros proceeds to the Mermaid's Tale to meet Jenna for an early, private, dinner…

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:03, Mon 06 June 2016.

Jenna

Jenna walks to Arma's Shrine, alone with her thoughts. Along the way, she receives a few catcalls and wolf whistles from roving Bloodforged patrollers, but they don't attempt to stop her, perhaps thinking better of "fining" a priestess of the Warrior.

The temple is right across the road from Fire Watch Keep. Two black-cloaked watchmen stand guard outside the closed portcullis. A pair of Redcloaks stands guard atop the gatehouse. They leer at Jenna as she enters the shrine.

"Strength and honor."

Jenna returns the greeting, walking across the small sanctuary to place a hefty pile of gold coins in the upturned shield that serves as the offering plate.

Party Purse -100GP: Jenna's offering to Arma (does that sound reasonable, Dave?)

"Thank you, sister. Your generosity humbles me."

The old priest, Brother Jaro, is happy to answer the young cleric's questions about the occupation.

"A few of the sell-swords have come in here and paid their respects, but most of them have no devotion to the Warrior. They fight for personal gain and little else. As you well know, Arma frowns on bloodshed for profit. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if many of them worshipped the Reaver."

Jaro spits loudly, without expelling any saliva (that would pollute the temple floor).

Jenna spends the rest of the day in silent prayer, leaving only when the angle of the sun's rays shining in through the high, west-facing, sword-shaped windows indicates the arrival of late afternoon/early evening. From the shrine, she makes her way back to the Harbor War and a rendezvous with Corros at the Mermaid's Tale…

Corros spends 20GP on a fairly sumptuous dinner for two, and 5GP for a room. And that's as much as I'm comfortable writing about that. ;)

Subtotal: -873GP

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:03, Mon 06 June 2016.

Nic

After breakfast, Nic finds the Waterbearers. It isn't difficult for the Ardani. The River Ward is Balefyre's smallest neighborhood, and he's already got a good read on the streets, almost as if he'd grown up there.

"Yeah, Toesplitter's none too happy with the Bloodforged. They're steppin' on his hairy toes."

Sanja laughs at her own joke.

"Not directly- they haven't tried to arrest him or nothin' like that. The Redcloaks have started running their own protection racket, though. And the curfew's been bad for business. Night time is the right time for kinds of entertainments Toesplitter sells. The Pit used to go sunrise to sunrise; now it empties out when the sun starts to set. And the curfew's eating into his cut from the brothels, weed and pilk* sales too. The gangs would love to get a piece of the bloody mercs, but Toesplitter won't allow it. It's hard for the boys to understand, but Toesplitter didn't get to where he is today by being hasty. I'm afraid it's only a matter of time, though, before a Redcloak pushes too hard. Then, all bets are off, if you know what I mean."

Nic apportions out 75 gold coins that he'd set aside for this very occasion, 15 for Sanja and 10 for each of the others. It's a little over twice what the Waterbearers normally collect weekly from a local business for "protection" (on behalf of Toesplitter). The message is clear. What the boss doesn't know won't hurt him. The Waterbearers have a new** boss now.

*Slang term for Milk of the Poppy, a powerful drug grown in the Caliphates.

**i.e. another boss; at this point, it's fairly certain that the Waterbearer's primary loyalties still like with Toesplitter.

Party Purse -75GP to cement business relationship with the Waterbearers street gang.

Subtotal: -948GP

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:14, Wed 08 June 2016.

The thought of getting gouged on a secret entrance to the Fire Watch Keep (1000GP's? Really? What are you going to do with that?  I don't know what to do with that!) is enough to have Corros gleefully hand over twenty five gold pieces to the proprietor of the Mermaid's Tale.  That sounds downright cheap!  He makes the arrangements for a private dinner delivered up stairs to a nice room that proves to be one of the nicest places he's ever been welcome to stay in.  The estates and domains of the superwealthy that just want to show off excepted of course.  Nice table, reasonable view, lockable door, several sitting chair, a dining table.  Giant bed.

Corros hangs his cloak on the provided hooks disconnects the various bits and pieces of adventure gear strapped to his body until he can relax in his finer clothes.  With his hands that need to be distracted from slight tremors, the warlock pours a few glasses of wine, setting one carefully on the table for Jenna's arrival, and sits heavily in one of the over stuffed chairs, one leg crossed over the other.

This is new territory.  There had been other girls, some even of some stature slumming down with delight in the seedy taverns of Silverleaf.  With Corros' looks and gift for words, getting attention was never a problem.  Jenna however has proved a bit of a challenge and an intriguing one at that.  A woman competent and worth striving for.  Someone who he would choose to be with, not a girl he would settle for while being used as a piece in a game designed to shock and scandalize.  Jenna has her secrets, Corros knows, and her own limits, but he is willing to work with that if it means being part of something.  Of someone.  Or at least he thinks he is.

When the door opens and Jenna enters, he stands, smiling warmly, genuinely happy.  "You came," he says.  "I'm glad.  Have some wine."

Jenna smiles at Corros as she closes the door behind her, although it takes more than a few moments before she can accept the offered glass of wine, for first there is the minor matter of placing her shield and Arma's Blessing to one side, removing her cloak, and, finally, taking off her armour, for she does not think that it would be appropriate to have dinner with Corros wearing a shirt of chain mail.  Not that the Priestess has any experience to draw on of what is and is not appropriate in these circumstances.

Her martial accoutrements placed to one side, she wears a fresh white tunic, one absent any rips or tears, belted with a length of scarlet cord that draws it snugly into her waist. The bandage that she wore on her arm, visible yesterday, is gone now, no trace of the wound remaining, Brother Jaro having insisted on ensuring that she was fully healed after she had made her donation to the Temple's coffers. Following her conversation with her brother Cleric she had spent the better part of the day in quiet reflection in the Temple. If Jaro was correct and many of the Bloodforged did indeed worship the Reaver then they had to die. The tents of her faith were very clear on that. Arma would show her the way.

"Thank you" Jenna finally says when she picks up the glass that he had poured for her, takes a sip, smiles again. "This tastes good" She says quietly as she looks around the room. There's a brief pause as her eyes come to rest on the bed. This is all new territory for Jenna; she is unsure of exactly how to behave and it likely shows. There's also what seems like the omnipresent confusion. She had purposely avoided thinking about Corros when she had been in the Warrior's House, but scarcely had she stepped over the threshold and back into the street before thoughts of him filled her mind. And now they were alone. She had not mentioned it to any of the others, doubted that he would have either, hoped that he would not have. This was nothing to do with them.

"I don't think I've ever stayed in anywhere as nice as this." Jenna says after a moment. 'Stayed' could mean different things of course, did not automatically suggest that she would be staying the night here. "My room at the Cloisters was quite...basic. Just a bed, nothing like that one -" she was smiling as she nodded towards the bed that looked as though it would be big enough for three people. At least. "- and a prayer alcove." Booted feet carry her across the room, the wine glass held in hand as she moves to the window, looks out at the view. "After the Cloisters I spent some time travelling, until I met you and the others and we all moved into our palatial home here." She turns to face him. "I'm sorry if I upset you the day that we moved in there. I suppose I was still getting used to life beyond the Cloisters.

But I'm glad we've been able to get some time together now." Jenna looks at Corros, and the images that had flashed through her mind at the way station suddenly return,  unbidden. A room, one luxurious, one that could be this one, or could not. The thoughts are interrupted by a sound,  a knocking, and there's a moment before she realises it's someone at the door, a disembodied voice coming from the other side of the wooden barrier. "Your dinner is served Master Graelor."

"Great timing on the food, yeah?" Corros says.  "I'm glad we're together, too."  He pauses in conversation for a moment to allow the server in, smiling at the smells coming in on the platter.  It had taken a few minutes to get the owner of the Mermaid's Tale to understand that Corros wanted good food, not a lot of food.  Nothing that could be taken as indulgent and over the top.  He wanted a sane amount of good bread, good meat, good cheese, a couple of fruit tarts, and a handful of oranges.  And more wine.  It looked like they had gotten the message.  For twenty gold, he better have.  Corros passed the server a couple of silver to hustle him back out of the room where he wouldn't have to see the warlock scramble over a lack of manners.

"Why don't you have a seat, Jenna."  He indicates one of the chairs at the table, then turns back to the collection of food and tries to design a plate from what he has seen the priestess eat over the weeks and months they've been together.  Finally he ditches all attempts at being suave and just starts to laugh, embracing honesty.  "Okay, I've never done this before, don't have any idea which fork goes where, and am just going to pile us up a bunch of food so we can eat and talk okay?  This is all new to me."  He returns to the table and places two plates down, each arranged carefully with what he hopes is a polite amount of food, then sits with a smile.

"I don't know that I was upset," Corros says reaching back to their conversation.  "Not in the long run anyway.  I was just surprised that you didn't see what I did.  But how could you?  That house, these inns, they are all firsts for me.  The first security I've had.  Even when..." He freezes for a moment, dropping the line of thought before he can fully recall Silverleaf, "I suppose I should be grateful that I was able to find safe places to sleep at all, but until I stood in that house, I had never felt like I had four walls around me that might be something more than temporary.  With people who might be around for more than a week.

"All of this feels so far above everything I've had and who I am that I don't know quite how to feel about it.  I'm a streetrat, yeah?  Jumped up, but that's what I am.  At my core.  It doesn't matter.  The rest doesn't matter so much." There is no bitterness in his voice, simple acceptance.  Corros sets his glass of wine down.  "But I do know how I feel about you."

For the first time since she entered the room, Corros opens his mind, draws forth his mental connection and shares with her his memory of sitting next to her on the bench and eating oranges, content that she had come back, enraptured with her shy grin.  And feeling very lucky that she noticed him at all.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:44, Mon 06 June 2016.

Strongarm’s Smithy

”Sounds like a plan.  If you could dye or lacquer it either black, brown, or deep green, that would be good as well.  No need to call attention to yourself, especially these days, right?” Ulfgar said, circling the orange plates with his index finger.  Covering the armor was preferable to buying a holocaust cloak to shroud the whole thing.

Post Redcloak Shakedown

”Glad I was only carrying this ‘Ship Part’,” Ulfgar said, patting the belaying pin in his belt.  ”We’ll need to let the others know to hide their arms.  In the mean, time, you can put that in the bag if you want,” Ulfgar said, offering the BOH as a holding place.

Temple of the HMFIC (Head Master Farmer in Charge)

”Spring huh?  Ok, I’ll check by then.  Oh, if you could send a runner over to the Balint house when the next Almanac is printed, I’ll pay cash on delivery for two copies,” Ulfgar said, shaking hand before he left.

Nature’s Way

”Evra, I’m so sorry,” Ulfgar said, letting the pain of the slap contrast with the warmth of the embrace.

”I was gone for what I thought was just a few days and I came back and I find out a month has gone by.  While I was gone I almost died.  I was laying on the floor of a cavern half alive and all I could think of was you."

Ulfgar stopped talking and took a knee.

”I want to marry you.  I don’t have a ring, but I can get one.  I don’t have a plan for the ceremony, but we can make one.  I just know that I want you in my life, forevermore.”

Back at the Ranch

”We should have gotten some pies for the others,” Ulfgar said sheepishly.  Really what he meant was getting some extra for when he got hungry later.  Spell casting always took it out of him and there was nothing like having a good post spell snack on hand.  Especially for an eight hour spell.

”Anyway, once this spell is done, I’m heading over to Evra’s from the night.  You’ll sleep better with this protection in place and I’ll sleep better there.”
This message was last edited by the player at 19:51, Mon 06 June 2016.

Jenna smiled when Corros put a plate down in front of her. "I've never done it before either." There's a sincerity in her tone, making it evident that she's not simply saying that in an attempt to make him feel better. "In the Cloisters they taught us different things. I learned all about the Goddess, how to serve Her." She looks down, places some meat and cheese on a piece of bread, averting her eyes from him as she continues. "And I learned how to kill in Her name. How to strike down Her enemies."But they had never taught her in the Cloisters which knife and fork to use.

Nor had they taught her to mount a fallen enemy's head on a pole. She could hear Master Harn's voice now, quoting the dogma that she had had to repeat over and over. A Priestess of Arma shows mercy to a defeated opponent. What mercy was there in mounting a head on a pole, like a trophy, for all to see? And, more than that, Jenna knew that had she had more time she would have mounted them all. She looked up from the bread to Corros, the emotions seeping out of her mind. She had been angry because they had threatened him. No, not angry, she had been in a rage. A raw, feral fury. She had been disappointed when they had fled, for she had wanted to kill them all. But a Priestess of Arma shows mercy to a defeated opponent.

A Priestess of Arma was expected to devote herself fully to the Goddess.

But she had always known that she was not the same as the other Acolytes. The elder Priests had said that she was special. There were things about her that marked her as different from the others. The fact that she could see in the dark. The mark at the small of her back, resembling a sunburst, looking almost as though it was branded into her flesh. The way that her eyes turned black sometimes. She knew there had been arguments about whether she should have stayed at the Cloisters or be cast out, knew because she had hidden in the shadows and listened as the Priests had argued amongst themselves. But the decision had been made, she had trained as a Priestess of Arma, been ordained into the faith.

And a Priestess of Arma was expected to devote herself fully to the Goddess.

She doesn't immediately respond when he talks about being a street rat, for she is unsure what to say, fearing that it may sound patronising. Or insulting. And so she takes a sip of wine, looks at him as images spill from his mind into hers, and with them his feelings. How he feels about her. And that in turn lets loose a maelstrom of sensations in her mind. For there were so many things that she had not been taught in the Cloisters.

Her eyes are on him as she places down the bread, not a single bite taken from it. "I'm sorry Corros. I don't feel hungry." Her voice is low, her tone apologetic, for she knows the trouble he has gone to in arranging this. Not to mention the expense.

He knows how he feels about her.

And she knows how she feels about him. The anguished shards of pain that she had felt when she had seen him lying, bloodied, battered spill out, followed a heartbeat later by the relief that he had not been more seriously wounded.

There's the sound of a chair scraping across the wooden floor as Jenna rises to her feet, holds out her hand, waits for him to take it in his. So that she can lead him towards the bed.

A Priestess of Arma was expected to devote herself fully to the Goddess.

But Jenna intended tonight to be devoted to Corros.

And fade...

In the late afternoon, an hour or so before supper, Vim Vander and a servant show up at Bálint House, both crudely disguised in dingy commoner's clothes.

"Word reached my father that you'd returned to the city. I'm- we're- very glad of it. He meant to thank you for your previous service to our household, but you left before these were finished." Vim takes five parcels from his servant, each wrapped in soft linen and tied with colorful ribbons, and hands them over to his hosts. Each package contains a fine set of elegant evening wear, tailored individually for each of the Five. "I suppose I could have left these with your housekeeper, but I wanted to give them to you personally, and thank you again for saving my life."

The young man hesitates, unsure of how to broach the true reason for his visit.

"As you must know by now, things have... changed around here." Another hesitation. "And not for the better," Vim ventures.

When his hosts nod assent, Vim relaxes somewhat.

"The Council is a sham. Zardis Kreyg runs the city now. He wishes to sell it to the highest bidder- an emissary from Varimor arrived just this morning. Representatives from Freeport and the Caliphates are expected any day now. In a few days, the bidding must surely begin. If the city is sold, our problems multiply. Instead of contending with a mercenary company 200 strong, we'll be up against an entire state. Our independence is at stake. Time is of the essence; we cannot allow a deal to be brokered. If you are willing to help, my father will put his resources at your disposal- money, basically."

The dark patches spreading around Vim's armpits belie his nerves. He looks hopefully at his audience, weighing their response and likely fearing that he's revealed too much. When he's fairly confident that they're all on the same side, he continues.

"I can't speak for the rest of the Merchant League, or for the rest of the Council for that Matter. Many are afraid to speak out against the Bloodforged. Muzz Breakwater, the representative of the Gate Ward and the Fisherman's Alliance, is already in chains for doing so. It is very likely that others would support this cause, but it's hard to know who to trust. I hope that our trust in you is not misplaced."

OOC: Corros and Jenna aren't present for this meeting, but those who are can pass along its meat the next morning. Please add a set of fine evening wear to your char-sheets.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:46, Thu 09 June 2016.

DAY 9 OF THE OCCUPATION

As the sun climbs above the city's eastern wall, Corros and Jenna begin the long walk of shame back to the River Ward. Ulfgar arrives shortly after the young lovebirds, an insistent, "what about my ring, Ulfy?" clanging around in his hairy head.

The usually cheerful Gronk is in a surly mood. The grumpy half-orc shares Vim Vander's information and the attached request for assistance.

He finishes his report with, "You already know what I think we should do."


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:47, Thu 09 June 2016.

Bálint House

At her employers' request, Lenore slips out to fetch Jurvis. The pair returns an hour or so later. Jurvis is a big man, tall, verging on rotund, with a round face and thinning hair. He looks a bit nervous but relaxes when it becomes clear that he's not in trouble with his girlfriend's bosses.

"I'd follow Commander Overmark into the lower hells, if she asked me to. I know that some of the other lads feel the same way. That's why the bloody Redcloaks cut us loose. I'd say there's at least a dozen of us, probably more. A few of the lads that got kept on got no love for the Bloodforged either. They're just too scared to quit, or need the money too bad. You got to be careful, though. Talk to the wrong person and you end up with your head on a pike. "

Jurvis assures the Five that he can muster about twenty spears when the time is right.

Nic's underworld contacts have informed him that Toesplitter can be found, at almost any hour, at his gaming hall, the Pit, conveniently located near the demarcation line separating the Harbor and River Wards. The Five, equipped for another urban spelunking expedition, make their way to the gaming hall for an audience with Balefyre's underworld boss.

---

The Pit

The Five walk through the main entrance, currently flanked by a contrasting pair of burly bouncers, a swarthy, impressively-muscled dwarf with a bared arms and barren pate, and a large human, head completely shaved, a hair taller than Gronk and nearly twice as wide. The new patrons are instructed to check their weapons at the cloak check just inside the entryway, receiving claim tickets in exchange.
(Ulfgar's man-purse [a.k.a. the BoH] is not checked or searched. For future reference, when asked to disarm, you may make a Sleight of Hand check to attempt to keep one or more small weapons on your persons- one check per item.)

The Pit's main room is huge, dimly-lit, and hazy with pipe smoke. The few small windows in the street-facing wall don't provide much ventilation or natural light. Numerous candles glow in lanterns of various colors hanging from chains set into the ceiling. A long bar takes up most of the back wall; it's framed by open doorways on either side. There's a broad stairway leading to the second floor on the left side of the room, and a low stage on the right, partially occupied by a small band of musicians playing half-heartedly. They share the stage with a pair of scantily clad dancing girls, gyrating lazily to the music. The rest of the floor is occupied by gaming tables- various card and dice games, a wheel of fortune or two, and several billiard tables. Among the two-dozen bleary-eyed patrons currently at play are at least four red-cloaked mercenaries. The floor manager, a thick, dark-bearded man, possibly Ardani, spots the Five immediately and walks over to introduce himself.

"You're here to see the boss, eh?" When the Five indicate the affirmative, the man nods to an associate and then continues, "Follow me."
He leads the Five past another bouncer and through the doorway on the right, to a private, candlelit booth, lavishly cushioned and smelling faintly of incense and sex. "Wait here."

The Five wait for about ten minutes before Toesplitter arrives with a hulking half-orc bodyguard at his shoulder, and two more toughs in trail. The Halfling is middle-aged and nattily dressed. The floor manager brings him an ornate chair, scaled to his diminutive frame but fashioned so that he sits at eye-level with human patrons (his hairy feet rest on an integral elevated footrest). The floor manager closes the curtain behind him, leaving the Five alone with Toesplitter and his massive bodyguard.

"So you're the five brave adventurers who took care of Balefyre's little pirate problem, eh? Pretty impressive. I'd heard you'd left town but here you are, back again, and gracing me with your presence. So, what brings you in to see me today? You're not thinking about cancelling your property protection subscription, are you?"

The Five state their business, but don't venture too much, Nic doing most of the talking.

"The Bloodforged…  can't say that I'm too fond of them. In fact, I'd say, they've, eh, overstayed their welcome."

Toecutter removes a cigar, huge in his diminutive hands, from his velvet surcoat. His bodyguard lights it for him. He starts puffing on it thoughtfully.

"Yeah, they been hurting business. The albino- Zardis Kreyg or whatever the fuck his name is- offered yours truly the vacant seat on the Fire Council but I turned it down. Be a waste of my time. There's no power in it anymore- wasn't really much to begin with. Money's the real power here- always has been, always will be- and the Bloodforged are fucking with mine. You see, I know my place in the grand scheme of things. I'm a big fish in a small pond. Balefyre loses its independence and all of a sudden that pond gets a lot bigger. I don't want that to happen. You got a plan for getting the Redcloaks out, I'm all ears."

Nic outlines the idea of a campaign of harassment, carried out by the city's street gangs, while the Five organize a coup-de-main. Toesplitter leans forward, elbows on the table, mouth behind steepled fingers. Several seconds pass before he responds.

"I can arrange that. But we start making trouble for them, they'll start making trouble for us, and right quick. They know who runs the gangs here. If the heat comes down too hot, I ease off. Understood?"

Toecutter's eyes narrow and his voice takes on a tone that's surprisingly menacing, coming from one so small.

"You'd better have a solid endgame, my friends. This thing better not end in a whimper. I've got a lot more at stake here than you do. You fuck me over, I'll make damn sure you go down in flames with me. That clear?"

---

The Fish Market

From the Pit, the party passes through the Fish Market where Corros manages to catch Shim's eye. The youth weaves his way over. The warlock reveals the party's intent.

"You know they're probably dead." Shim says, matter of fact, referring to Tagger and the original Drowned Rat search party. "You find out what happened to 'em, the fee we was talking about before, I cut it in half. You revenge 'em, I'll take you to the keep for free."

---

The Sewers

Their business with the Rats complete, the Five make their way to Warehouse Row, where it's not too hard to find the entrance to the sewers down which Shim led them on their first foray underground. That was at night, though. It's currently pressing on noon. The companions receive quite a few looks as they remove the grate and begin descending into the underground.

"City sanitation department. Routine inspection. Move along." Gronk says, bluffing badly.

It takes a few seconds for the party's five pairs of eyes to adjust to the darkness of the tunnels. Nic's preternatural sense of urban direction keeps the companions headed in the right direction. They recognize the cross-passages where the party encountered carrion crawlers on the previous trip, confirming the Ardani's instincts. As the adventurers slog through the shin-high (knee-high for Ulfgar) effluent, they get the feeling that they're being followed, but no one sees any evidence to back that up. They slog on. From up ahead comes a sound like that of white water pouring over rapids, faint at first, but building quickly. The team pauses, eyes in front and behind. Nic estimates that they're about a block away from the mouth of the tunnel leading to the secret passageway. Suddenly, the dark water [about 30'] in front of them seems to come to a boil. A low, roiling wave comes at them at speed- there's no time to get out of its way. It's a swarm of rats, rushing on in a blind panic. Something must be pushing them forward. Looking back, Corros espies what looks like a long piece of pale driftwood floating towards them, but a pair of dark eyes just above the surface of the black sludge suggest that it is something more sinister.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:45, Tue 19 July 2016.

The Pit

While the Five walk across town and into the den of Toesplitter, Corros' mind wanders.  He knows he should be concentrating on watching out for the Bloodforged and trying to develop the plans necessary for city wide rebellion, but all he can keep thinking of is Jenna.  The angle of her jaw, the blush of her skin, the- Enough.  Really enough for now.  There's that whole needing to stay alive thing that needs attention.  He just wants to reach out and hold her hand, which, he admits, would look fairly ridiculous in her armor and his robes.

He settles for little smiles and mental winks when they can get away with it.  He supposes that Nic probably wants to throw up and that the other two are probably missing it entirely.  The fact is, though, the half-elf is happy and wants to enjoy the whole thing.  Jenna and being happy.  Maybe it will even last a little while.  Not that he's ever really had a girlfriend.  If that's even what they are.  They hadn't talked about what was next all that much.  In fact, after dinner, there hadn't been much talking at all.

It's hard not to ogle the dancing girls of The Pit. It's not his usual reaction, but he tries to manage next to his lady friend and even manages to follow Toesplitter's conversation.

"You're right," he says to the small man, and more indirectly, to his companions.  "We need an end goal.  A return to the status quo isn't going to work.  That puts us back into the same problems the city had prior to the Bloodforged and the rest of the world already smells blood in the harbor."

---

The Sewers

Corros hates rats.  Smelly, nasty, disease ridden critters that would wake him up in the middle of the night, biting exposed flesh or scampering across his feet.  It drove him out of the tunnels and into the rafters.  There is the briefest of moments as the wave of furry flesh begins to descend on The Five where he pictures in his imagination, clear almost the point of reality, taking revenge for all the times the little beasts disrupted his life with a centrally located shatter spell detonating in their midst inflicting a rat genocide.  The image flying bodies brings the hint of a smile that fades rapidly when he spots the eyeballs creeping up behind their group.  It seems they are about to be flanked.  Again.

"Um...sewer monster? Sewer alligator?" Rumors and legends fly through his brain.  People throwing pet alligators out in their chamber pots after they've gotten too big for the gardens... Not that he'd even seen one.  "Behind us."

Gritting his teeth for rat arrival, he draws forward mystical energy and fires it at the eyes to indicate to his companions where the real trouble is.  And maybe get it to reveal itself.

Corros
40/40 HP, AC 13
Casting Eldritch Bolt (2 bolts, +7 to hit, 1D10+4 each)
This message was last edited by the player at 13:50, Sat 11 June 2016.

The House

Jenna was quiet on her return to the house, content to leave the talking to the others, even more so than usual, on several occasions her mind drifting back to the events of the night before, at which point a soft smile would briefly cross over her lips, although she would take pains to hide it should anyone look in her direction. The Priestess was neither ashamed nor embarrassed by what she had done, but as far as she was concerned it was no one's business except her and Corros'. And possibly Arma's, but that was another matter altogether. Corros' brief incursions into her mind had not helped Jenna to maintain her composure either, not that she had minded them of course, though they had caused her to blush furiously several times.

Once Jurvis had went on his way she had retired to one of the upstairs rooms, tried on the new set of battle armor that they had brought back from the underground City. Whilst it had felt somewhat strange to be wearing something that had belonged to something that had tried to kill them it fitted her well, and still left her with relatively good ease of movement. Besides, it was grey, so perhaps that would appease Arma. Or perhaps not, for wearing grey was usually reserved for the Warrior's elder, Clerics, a right they had earned in battle. Was she ready to discard the white, don grey? And of her own accord? Descending the stairs wearing the new armor and casting her eyes on Corros was enough to make her muse that perhaps there were other reasons why it was more appropriate that she wore grey than white.

---

The Sewers

Whilst Jenna is not overly fond of rats they instil no has no particular feelings of unease either, so she watches the approaching throng with wariness but nothing else, bracing herself to stand against them until she hears Corros shout out, warning of a threat behind them. Spinning round in the murky water, the Priestess puts the threat of the rates to one side for the moment, her eyes piercing the gloom with accustomed ease to pick out the monster that the Warlock - her lover - has spotted.

The water splashing as she wades through it, Jenna steps forward, trying to palce herself between Corros and the creature - she would have done that before but now it probably looks to the otehrs that she is doing it just because it is him - and brings up her right hand, her eyes blinking, shifting from blue to white as she sends a bolt of the Goddess's energy coursing through the sewer towards the thing that lurks there.

Jenna
AC: 21, HP44/44
Launching Guiding Bolt at alligator thing (Level 2)

As usual, Gronk is near the point. He crouches down, his shield held low against the approaching breaker of frenzied rats. When they arrived, he'd try to bash them away from his unprotected legs (he hadn't picked up his new suit of scales yet, not wanting to get it all shitty the first time he wore it- that, in retrospect, he thinks might have been a mistake).

Gronk
AC 16; HP 65
Ready action: two melee attacks v. rat swarm when it get to within range

-

Ulfgar summons fire with his cantrip, throwing the small ball of flame at the approaching log-creature.  He then called on the primal forces of nature to change into a polar bear, the form he had met his druidic mentor in years ago.  He took his place online with Jenna, read to attack as the creature approached.

Ulfgar Frostbeard
AC: 15 HP: 66/66
Action: Casting produce flame and throwing it at alligator thing (w/advantage hopefully)
Bonus Action: Combat Wildshape to Polar Bear
Polar Bear statblock
Armor Class 12 (natural armor),  Hit Points 42 (5d10 + 15),  Speed 40 ft., swim 30 ft.
Multiattack. The bear makes two attacks: one with its bite and one with its claws.
Bite. Melee Weapon Attack: +7 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 9 (1d8 + 5) piercing damage.
Claws. Melee Weapon Attack: +7 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 12 (2d6 + 5) slashing damage.

This message was last edited by the player at 08:24, Mon 13 June 2016.

The darkness of the sewer tunnel is momentarily banished by four bright, multicolored flashes of light, as the party's casters launch a barrage of spells at the pale mass swimming towards the team's rear. The creature thrashes against the painful impact of all four magical projectiles, revealing itself as an unusually large, albino crocodile (or alligator- none of the Five are naturalists). (Giant Croc -51HP)

Shortly thereafter, the rat swarms breaks over the party's point-men. Spike splashes down twice, leaving a flotsam of corpses in its wake whilst showering Gronk and Nic with raw sewage. (Rat Swarm -10HP)

More subtle in his offense, Nic (NPC'ed) thrusts Touch of Sylk into the mass of scrambling vermin at a slanting downward angle. When he withdraws the sword, two rats are wriggling their last on the slim blade (Rat Swarm -7HP). Ask he shakes the dying rats loose, Nic feels a sharp pain in his left calf as at least one of his victims' vengeful confederates gets its pointy little teeth through his leather boot (Nic -3HP).

The rat wave rushes on, through the party, and past it, eventually cresting over the advancing albino croc. The angered beast snaps and thrashes at the offending vermin, killing most of the survivors but effectively delaying its advance long enough for Jenna, Ulfgar, and Corros to mount another attack before the croc is able to do so.

With the initial threat to the party's front moving on, and their three companions dealing with the danger behind, the two point-men peer ahead into the darkness, searching for the cause of the rats' panicked flight. What they see defies expectation. Several rats appear to be floating, in mid-air, towards the adventurers, quivering slightly as they move closer. Floating with the rats is what appears to be a man's boot. It takes a few seconds for Nic and Gronk to realize what they're looking at. It's some sort of gelatinous cube, its outer edges sucking against the surface of the tunnel through which it's currently oozing.


Your Turn

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:06, Wed 15 June 2016.

"Stay behind me." Jenna calls to Corros and Ulfgar as the rats rush past her legs. Unaware of what is happening in front of them, the blonde haired Priestess hefts Arma's Blessing in her right hand, her shield strapped firmly to her left arm as she wades forward, her eyes scanning the gloom, trying to pick out the shape of the crocodile, poised to lash out at it if she spots it.

Jenna
AC: 21, HP44/44
Trying to spot croc. If she sees it will attack with warhammer (1d8 +1)
Using War Priest for bonus attack

"No argument from me," Corros says.  Giant sewer monsters aren't his thing.  But then neither are rats and an intense feeling of revulsion passes through him as the four legged vermin scatter through his legs.  It occurs to Corros that maybe he should look over his shoulder to see what is driving the rats with such disregard for obstacles, but the beast in front draws all his attention, before it eats the woman he wants to spend a little more quality time with.

Corros
40/40 HP, AC 13
Casting Eldritch Bolt (2 bolts, +7 to hit, 1D10+4 each)

Gronk cocks his weapon arm and waits for the transparent cube to ooze to within range. When it does, he strikes at it with Spike, once, then twice.

Gronk
AC 16; HP 60
Launching two melee attacks v GC

-

Spike gouges two chunks out of the gelatinous cube's slab-like front face (Gelatinous Cube -21HP). A globular appendage partially extrudes from the creature's cuboid body, whipping out to slap the half-orc on his weapon arm. Gronk shouts in pain as the attack's acid residue eats into his exposed flesh (Gronk -10HP). The cube oozes closer. Gronk tries to avoid it but he's not fast enough. The half-orc is engulfed by the glutinous, transparent body of the creature (Gronk -10HP; Gronk is Grappled!). He's plainly visible for all to see, struggling madly to escape the corrosive embrace of the oncoming cube.

As Gronk launched his attacks against the gelatinous cube, Nic is right beside him. The rogue plunges his rapier deep into the soft mass of the monster, then swirls the tip to enlarge the wound cavity (Gelatinous Cube -14HP). He tries to withdraw the blade but it doesn't slide out as smoothly as he'd anticipated. Instead, the glutinous body of the creature gloms onto his sword hand and pulls him in, quickly engulfing the struggling human (Nic -10HP; Nic is Grappled!).

At the other end of the party line, Jenna strides forward towards the giant croc, Ulfgar-polar bear loping along at her side, more of his snow white fur splattered brown with each splashing paw-fall. The priestess attempts to place Arma's Blessing on the massive reptile's head. The first blow glances off the beast's sewage-slicked scales, but the second lands squarely on its shoulder, splitting open its leathery hide (Crit! Giant Croc -13HP). The croc lashes out at the human with its tail but Jenna manages to avoid the worst of the killing blow.

Her ursine companion, meanwhile, attacks the giant lizard with teeth and claws. Ulfgar-bear sinks his teeth into the back of the croc's neck and rakes its leathery skin with his claws (Giant Croc -16HP). The powerful beast jerks away and comes at the bear with its jaws gaping. They clamp down hard on Ulfgar-bear's shoulder and hold fast (Ulfgar-bear -21HP; Ulfgar-bear is Grappled!).

Corros hangs back, letting his two sturdier companions shield him from the croc's pointy end. He repeats the incantation to call forth two more Eldritch Bolts and sends them flying at the pale form of the albino crocodile. Unfortunately, the warlock's aim is thrown off by the two companions interposed between him and the target. His two Eldritch Bolts miss the giant croc, one hitting the ceiling of the sewer tunnel above the melee in a shower of sparks and the other strobing down the tunnel where it sputters out harmlessly in the darkness.

Despite having Ulfgar-bear clamped firmly between its jaws, the giant albino crocodile's strength and vitality seems to be ebbing quickly.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:45, Fri 17 June 2016.

A great roar filled the sewer, unnatural in that no polar bear had ever inhabited a city drainage system before.  Ulfgar followed his rage-roar by lashing out at the giant crocodile, striking at it with claws and his bite, intent on freeing himself from the huge creature.

Ulfgar Frostbear
Armor Class 12 (natural armor),  Hit Points 21/42 (5d10 + 15),  Speed 40 ft., swim 30 ft.
Multiattack. The bear makes two attacks: one with its bite and one with its claws.
Bite. Melee Weapon Attack: +7 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 9 (1d8 + 5) piercing damage.
Claws. Melee Weapon Attack: +7 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 12 (2d6 + 5) slashing damage.

The after effects of Corros' spell casting an eerie glow on the battle unfolding before her, Jenna watches as Ulfgar finishes off the reptile, its tail causing a shower of water to spray over her as it goes into its death throes, soaking her hair.

Wet strands of blonde clinging to her face, the Priestess turns to see what is happening in front of them, sees some sort of gelatinous cube approaching, Nicolai and Gronk seemingly caught up in its midst. "Watch out in front!" she calls to the others before she raises her right hand, feels Arma's power ripple through her as she launches a bolt of divine radiance towards the cube.

Jenna
AC: 21, HP44/44
Launching Guiding Bolt at cube (Level 2)
This message was last edited by the player at 17:46, Sat 18 June 2016.

Corros is considering his spell options when Ulfgar-Bear goes into full on blitz mode on the crocodile, turning it into a source of airborne meat chunks at the same time that he fills the space with a massive roar.  Is this how sewer legends are born? he wonders.  Will there be tales of a bear that lives under the city in the years to come?

Jenna's cry alerts him to the threat to the front, and Corros whirls in place.  It takes his eyes a few moments to adjust to what they are seeing: floating rats entombed with garbage and debris and a gel that seems to be grasping Gronk and Nic, trying to pull them into its grasp.  Slashing or poking the thing seems to be useless, so Corros asks the next best question he can.  What will happen if I try to blow it apart?

Measuring the distance isn't easy, but Corros projects the focus of his spell to a point in the tunnel past his companions, trying to keep them safe from the shockwave that is about to rock the sewers.  And hopefully blow apart the jello mold oozing at them.


Corros
40/40 HP, AC 13
Casting Shatter, 3rd Level Spell slot, 4d8 damage

Gronk can't breath. He can barely move. He fights down the panic, draws strength from the primal rage of his orcish ancestry, and attempts to burst forth from the gelatinous cube's suffocating hold.

Yesterday: Raellus, on behalf of Gronk, rolled 16 using 1d20+7.  str check to escape gc.

Struggling mightily, Gronk tears himself loose from the sucking body of the cube and stumbles to his knees in the cold sewage at its transparent base. Nic is struggling too, Gronk can see, but with much less success. The cube is eating his friend alive. Heedless of his own safety, the half-orc plunges his bulging arm into the glutinous body of the cube and attempts to pull his friend free.

Gronk
AC 16; HP 44/65
Action surge to take bonus action to free Nic from Gelatinous Cube

-
This message was last edited by the player at 20:42, Sat 18 June 2016.

Ulfgar's right bear arm is pinned to his body by the vice-like grip of the giant croc's jaws. Using his clawed left paw to gain purchase in the croc's scaly hide, Ulfgar-bear cranes his neck around and attempts to sink his teeth into the massive reptile's throat. Ulfgar-bear's top teeth penetrate the croc's softer underside- gnashing and twisting to increase the damage done, he feels a lukewarm spray of blood from a severed artery soaking his muzzle. Mortally wounded, the croc releases the bear and thrashes about weakly in the soupy effluent, quickly losing strength. In a few more seconds, the beast is dead (Giant Crocodile -13HP; Giant Croc is dead!)

With the threat to the party's rear eliminated, Jenna and Corros turn their attention forward. What they see is alarming, to say the least. Both casters act fast. With a violet flash, Jenna's Guiding Bolt sizzles into the transparent body of the gelatinous cube; the creature jerks and quivers in response, clearly hurt by the blast of magical energy (Gelatinous Cube -19HP). Corros follows up with a very well-placed Shatter spell- it detonates behind the transparent cube, sending a violent shock-wave, back to front, resounding through its gelatinous body (Gelatinous Cube -21HP).

With the gelatinous cube reeling from back-to-back spell attacks, Gronk manages to grab a hold of the still-enveloped Nicolai. Bare skin burning from the creature's acidic nature, Gronk pulls his friend free (Gronk -10HP). Still holding on to Nic, Gronk staggers away from the slowly advancing cube shouting, "Hit it again but don't get too close!"


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:15, Sun 19 June 2016.

Not needing to be told twice, Corros readies his second Shatter spell.  Once again, picking the right spot to center the erupting magic proves critical.  Too close and his friends will be at risk.  Too far and the creature could devour them, leaving them just as dead.  The balance is delicate, but Corros feels confident, can almost see the focal point taking shape in his mind.  With a series of complicated gestures and mouthful of tongue twisting words, the warlock unleashes what the Library has taught him, again.

Corros
40/40 HP, AC 13
Casting Shatter, 3rd level slot, 4d8 damage, save for half

"Nicolai, Gronk, keep away from it." Jenna yells, her hair starting to flicker and dance despite the fact that it is soaked in whatever she is wading through, errant tendrils of blonde standing on edge as she calls on Arma's divine grace, her eyes milky white, not the black that they have been when she or Corros have been in mortal danger.

The Priestess can feel the Goddess' power coursing through her, flowing through every fibre of her body to coalesce around the fingers of her right hand, already pointed towards the cube, a sharp breath, her chest rising and falling within the grey armour that she wears as she unleashes that energy towards the advancing cube, sensing that there is more power in this one as she bolt leaves her fingers. As it streaks towards the cube Jenna takes several steps backwards, trying to keep a distance between herself and the approaching mass.

Jenna
AC: 21, HP44/44
Launching Guiding Bolt at cube (Level  3)

Ulfgar wasn't keen on attacking some kind of acid ooze in his bear form.  He transformed back to his normal dwarven-self and considered his options.  He decided pelting it with fire and keeping his distance was the best plan at this point.

"Yeah, what Jenna said!" he added as the small fire appeared in his right palm.

Ulfgar Frostbeard
AC: 15 HP: 66/66
Casting Produce Flame.  +7 spell attack modifier, tossing it at the ooze (2d8 damage if it hits)
Moving 15' away from the cube after throwing fire
This message was last edited by the player at 17:33, Sun 19 June 2016.

Gronk tries to get Nic and himself a safe distance from the advancing cube, and out of the way of the spell casters. As he does so, he summons his inner reserves of fortitude, attempting to shake off the cumulative corrosive effects of the creature's acidic essence.

Raellus, on behalf of Gronk, rolled 5 using 1d10+4.  second wind HP recovery.

Gronk
AC 16; 39/65 HP
Second Wind & pulling Nic out of range of the advancing monster

-

As Gronk drags Nic out of reach of the gelatinous cube's grasping tendrils, Corros, Jenna, and Ulfgar launch a barrage of ranged spell attack at the slow-moving monster.

Corros' second Shatter spell doesn't seem to have the same effect on the cube as his first, but the creature slows further, clearly damaged by the attack (Gelatinous Cube -10HP).

A bolt of radiant energy leaves Jenna's outstretched hand and penetrates the cube's transparent body. An eye-blink moment after the resultant flash, the monster loses all viscosity and cohesion. Like a curtain of clear water, it crashes down to mix with the brown sewage (Gelatinous Cube -16HP; Gelatinous Cube is dead!).

Deprived of a target, Ulgar's mote of flame dances down the tunnel, briefly illuminating the entrance to the side channel where the party found the secret door. The tiny fireball winks out once again plunging the tunnel into darkness.

The violent din of battle is over, leaving only the sound of sloshing water and heaving breaths. Hints of the pale of mass of the dead albino crocodile appear and disappear above the murky surface of the knee-high effluent behind the party. A solitary boot bobs in the filthy water up ahead. What with the predators and scavengers that the Five have so far encountered in the city sewers, it occurs to the adventurers that they are highly unlikely to find any significant human remains underground. There's still one lead, however tenuous, still to follow- the mini-beholder in the hallway behind the secret door not too far from where they currently stand.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:34, Wed 22 June 2016.

The Five decide that they're not in the best shape to face whatever waits behind the secret door, so they retreat above ground. Climbing out of the sewer hole, dripping with filth, they draw a small crowd of curious onlookers which, as the last of the party emerges from the underground, grows to include a patrol of four Redcloaks.

"Hey! What's this all about?", the Redcloak in charge shouts.

Corros, experienced in the ways of urban evasion, leads the party in a hasty withdrawal. Impeded by the growing crowd, the mercenaries are unable to keep up. It's not lost on the Five that as soon as the street gang's campaign of harassment against the Bloodforged begins, it's going to be even more difficult to move about the city unimpeded.

Back at Balint House, the Five get cleaned up (Lenore: "Again with this stinking filth? What is wrong with you people?") and settle down to recover from their latest close-run fight (Short Rest completed).

After catching their second wind, the Five head back to the Harbor Ward. They make a quick stop at Strongarm's Smithy to pick up Gronk's new scale mail before reentering the sewers.

Back underground, the Five retrace their steps to the site of the recent battle. The body of the albino crocodile has drifted off or been completely consumed by other subterranean scavengers (a scary thought, but unlikely). From there, it's not far- a left turn and half-a-block's soggy walk- to the tunnel containing the secret door. The Wand of Secrets once again reveals the shimmering outline of the hidden entrance, more or less where the party expected to find it. A muddy humanoid (but not human) handprint marks the location of the brick that operates the door's opening mechanism. A couple of course, stringy hairs are imbedded in the dried muck of the print. Nic carefully presses against the brick; it recedes under the pressure, there's a click and the door slides back and to one side.

The Five climb the short flight of stairs into the dimly-lit hall. It looks the same, except for two suits of exotic plate armor standing still at the far end, facing one another across the hall. The armor appears to be fashioned out of bronze, decorative more than functional, of an ornate style often associated with the Sunrise Kingdoms. The adventurers note the scrape and click of the secret door closing behind them.

As the adventurers cautiously advance down the hallway, the floating, eye-stalked orb floats into view from around a far corner.

Spectator: "Again? I thought I told you lot to fuck off. I'm afraid I can't let you off that easy this time. Have at 'em boys."

The two suits of armor, seemingly still empty, rattle to life, turning slowly to face the Five. Jerkily at first, they begin to plod their way towards the adventurers. At the same time, two of the spectator's four eye stalks start to glow.

"Don't say I didn't warn ya."


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:52, Tue 21 June 2016.

Jenna shakes her head slowly from side to side when the four eyed orb speaks. "Your warning is duly noted. And ignored. You will simply join the list of those we have slain." The blonde haired Priestess' voice is low, her tone matter of fact as she moves to the center of the hallway, where she can form a line of defence should Corros be attacked, takes a deep breath as she raises her arms out from her sides, her lips moving in silent prayer, causing the air around her to shimmer, forms beginning to take shape almost immediately, spectral images, their faces indistinct as they swirl around the Priestess in a perpetually moving circle as she advances to face the advancing suits of armour, almost as though they are protecting her.

Jenna
AC: 21, HP44/44
Casting Spirit Guardians (Level 3), designating the rest of the Five to be unaffected

"Right, let's get this done then."

If Jenna's advancing into melee, Gronk is too. Gronk moves down the left side of the hallway, swinging Spike low in an effort to trip the animated armor directly in front of him.

Gronk
AC 18; HP 65/65 (3 hit dice spent during short rest)
Move to contact; Trip attack v. AA1 (i.e. one on the left), second attack to follow

-
This message was last edited by the player at 18:31, Tue 21 June 2016.

"You sure gotta lot of eyes," Ulfgar said before casting a spell.  Suddenly the area behind the advancing armor suits was shrouded in heavy fog.

Ulfgar Frostbear
AC: 15, HP:66/66
Casting Fog Cloud - Positioned so the edge of the cloud is just behind the armor's heel.  I want the creature to have to come out of the cloud toward Jenna, if it wants to use it's eye stalks.  Ideally it would have to come out within her 15' radius.

Or it can sit there in the cloud while we deal with it's armor friends.  Or run away, though I'm guessing it can't really do that per say given it's purpose.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:49, Tue 21 June 2016.

"It's a long list.  You wanna reconsider?"  The question is rhetorical, in the main.  Nicolai still doesn't know exactly what the eyestalk-laden thing is but he's dealt with other summoned guardians before and knows their single-mindedness.  Still, he's found that repartee can interrupt the footwork of most sapient opponents.  He ignores the nagging inconsistency of trying to disrupt the footwork of a creature that lacks feet and moves in on Jenna's shoulder, setting his shield against the advancing empty armor.  The tip of his blade bobs in the air as he focuses on a crumbled leather strap that looks like it's tired of bearing weight.

Nicolai
AC 17; HP 32/45; superiority dice 4/4
Move: Into proximity with Jenna
Action: Readying +1 rapier attack against AA2 once it comes in range and Jenna gives me sneak attack effects (attack +7, damage 1d8+2d6+4)
Contingency/Reaction: If attacked and missed, will expend last superiority die for Riposte

The many-eyed orb disappears in an rapidly expanding cloud of opaque fog- Ulfgar's timely handiwork. It stands to reason that if the monster can't see the Five, it likely can't effectively attack them either.

"Clever fuckers!" the effectively blinded spectator shouts through the wall of fog.

Circled by floating, blue-glowing, vaguely humanoid figures, Jenna advances towards the lumbering animated suits of armor. As the priestess' spirit guardians pass through the armor, the suits flare brightly with radiant energy (Animated Armor #1 -18HP, AA2 -13HP). Clearly agitated by the contact, both of the suits flail briefly at the passing ephemeral forms before resuming their single-minded advance.

Gronk strides up alongside Jenna, passing her as he targets the suit on the left. Spike sweeps in low, catching the side of the creature's left knee plate. The attacked leg buckles inward and the suit pitches over, falling hard on its left side (AA1 -10HP). Gronk quickly raises his morning star and brings it down hard on the helmet of his fallen enemy. Decapitated, the armor comes apart, as whatever force that was animating it is extinguished (AA1 -14HP; AA1 is dead!)

Nic slips by Jenna on her right side, thrusting his rapier at a perceived weak spot in the right-hand armor's binding. Touch of Sylk severs one of its many leather straps, loosening the armor's right arm plates (AA2 -16HP). It swings the arm anyway, attempting to bludgeon the lightly-armored rogue with its heavy bronze gauntlet. Nic easily dodges the clumsy blow, then slices through another load-bearing strap on the suit's opposite side. The animated armor staggers, then comes apart completely, its various pieces clattering noisily to the floor at Nic's feet (AA2 -14HP; AA2 is dead!)

At the back of the party, Corros hears the click and scrape of the secret door opening. He turns around to face the new entrant. A hairy, humanoid creature- not a classic werewolf per se, but something roughly analogous in appearance, takes all of the steps in one loping stride and advances rapidly towards Corros with obvious bad intentions.


Your Turn. Corros goes first.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:37, Wed 22 June 2016.

The sight of his companions dealing with their adversaries with extreme prejudice gives Corros a welcome sense of security.  Even with the floating eyeball inconvenienced rather than removed from the battle, he's feeling good about their chances.  Instead of lashing out with an attack (and all the witty comments having been taken), he holds back, ready to counter a magical attack should one come.  Well that and watching Jenna kick some ass.  It's kinda hot.

Thankfully he's not too engrossed in his semi-inappropriate thoughts to be caught unaware when the Five find themselves in the midst of another tunnel squeeze.  The warlock turns in time to see the wolf/man/thing loping towards him with malice in its eye.  "Trouble behind us!" he yells to the others before weaving a magical net out of runes and mana to stall the creature's advance.

Corros
40/40 HP, AC 13
Casting Hold Person (3rd level slot) on the advancing creature

Nicolai, always a firm believer in keeping an open escape route, is turning almost before Corros finishes shouting his warning.  "On it," he advises Jenna as he slides out of formation with her.  A few quick steps bring him past Corros, sword questing for the new opponent's eyes.

Nicolai
AC 17; HP 32/45; superiority dice 3/4
Move: Into melee with the furball
Contingency/Bonus: If hold person fails, spending 1 superiority die for Feint
Attack: +1 rapier against furball (+7+advantage attack; 1d8+2d6+4 damage [+1d8 if feinting])
Contingency/Reaction: If attacked and missed, will expend 1 superiority die for Riposte

Ulfgar maintained concentration on the fog cloud, as he transformed into a giant spider.  He crawled up the wall, standing now above the melee combatants.  He shifted slightly to hide in the shadows.

Ulfgar-Spider
AC: 14, HP: 26/26, +7 to Stealth
Ready Action: Shooting Web @ Eye Creature if it comes out of the fog (hoping for advantage if it doesn't detect me).

Web (Recharge 5-6) Ranged Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, range 30/60 ft., one creature. Hit: The target is restrained by webbing. As an action, the restrained target can make a DC 12 Strength check, bursting the webbing on a success. The webbing can also be attacked and destroyed (AC 10; hp 5; vulnerability to fire damage; immunity to bludgeoning, poison, and psychic damage).
Concentration Spell in Effect: Fog Cloud

With the many eyed orb obscured by Ulfgar's fog Jenna heeds Corros and Nicolai's warnings and turns to face the new threat behind them, her spiritual companions continuing to swirl around her, flitting in and out of this plane. Several times they seem to pass right through her, causing her flesh to tingle and the small hairs at the back of her neck to stand on end.

Given the speed that the thing is moving at Jenna  scarcely has time to register its presence before she is stepping up to face it, her ghostly guardians with her as she raises her hammer, swings it towards the beast, calling on the Warrior to guide her attack as she does so.

Jenna
AC: 21, HP44/44
Attacking wolf thing with warhammer (1d8 +3)
Using War Priest for bonus attack

Gronk would love to get in on the developing action behind him, but he's got enough tactical sense not to leave the front line unattended. He takes up a versatile ready position facing the fog and semi-patiently awaits further developments.

Gronk
AC 18; HP 65/65
Ready action

-

The hairy, almost ape-like creature wades right through Corros' magical net and lashes out at the warlock with a long-fingered, long-clawed hand. As the dagger-like nails tear through Corros' cloak and into the flesh underneath, the young warlock rebukes the creature; the hairy beast releases a guttural scream as it erupts in a brief pillar of scorching hellfire (Corros -6HP; Q -20HP).

Using his quickness to rapidly shift position from the front of the formation to the rear, Nic slides up beside his beleaguered warlock friend. The rogue's first maneuver is a feint; the monster reacts defensively to the false attack, giving Nic a better opening. Touch of Sylk darts in under the monster's outstretched right arm, sinking deep into its hairy side (Q -17HP). The creature lashes out with its left hand, raking Nic's hand with talon-like fingernails (Nic -6HP).

Jenna too shifts away from the fog wall to attack the monster besetting Corros. With Nic on her lover's left, she takes up position on his right. Her Spirit Guardians beat her to the new enemy. As the first of the transparent blue entities passes through the beast, it howls in agony, its entire body contorting violently. As the priestess steps forward to deliver the coup-de-gras with her sanctified warhammer, the monster collapses to the floor, already dead (Q -13HP; Q is dead!).

With Ulfgar now in spider form and poised on the ceiling, Gronk finds himself alone holding the front of the line, a few feet short of the thick fog wall.

The spectator's gravelly voice filters through the cloud.

"You people must think I'm stupid. I ain't floatin' through this soupy shit. You want some of this, come and get it!"


Your Turn.

-

We give 'em what they want...

Ulfgar spider slowly advances into the fog, feeling out the route carefully.  He was now hunting the eye creature.  His palps quivered with the anticipation at the thought of injecting the creature with poison.

Ulfgar-Spider
AC: 14, HP: 26/26, +7 to Stealth, Blindsight 10'
Moving 10'-20' forward (but not leaving the fog).  Looking for the mini-Beholder.  If I finds it, I webs it and I bites it!  Web in the surprise round, bite in the follow-on round.  Both with advantage if the creature is in the cloud.

Web (Recharge 5-6). Ranged Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, range 30/60 ft., one creature. Hit: The target is restrained by webbing. As an action, the restrained target can make a DC 12 Strength check, bursting the webbing on a success. The webbing can also be attacked and destroyed (AC 10; hp 5; vulnerability to fire damage; immunity to bludgeoning, poison, and psychic damage).

Bite. Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 5 ft., one creature. Hit: 7 (1d8 + 3) piercing damage, and the target must make a DC 11 Constitution saving throw, taking 9 (2d8) poison damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one. If the poison damage reduces the target to 0 hit points, the target is stable but poisoned for 1 hour, even after regaining hit points, and is paralyzed while poisoned in this way.

Concentration spell in effect: fog cloud.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:06, Thu 23 June 2016.

Ulfgar-spider skitters across the ceiling, into the fog cloud, hunting for the mini-beholder from above. He reaches the T-junction at the end of the hallway without encountering the sassy monster- it appears to have removed itself from the magical miasma. Despite his prey's unexpected absence, Ulfgar's spider senses detect faint eddies in the fog extending into hallway branching off to the left.

Unable to see any of this, the others wait patiently for news from their arachnoid companion. Conveniently, using his telepathic abilities, Corros can communicate with sentient spiders, and, should he wish, he can connect his other friends to the conversation too.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:23, Thu 23 June 2016.

Ulfgar walked back to the others and crawled from the ceiling to the floor.  He held up one leg, motioning it forward, then held it out and offered it to someone to hold.  He would lead them through the fog to the far side of the room.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 19:56, Thu 23 June 2016.

Instead of focusing his mind on one connection, Corros takes a deep breath at the same time he closes his hand around Jenna's.  A surge of warmth at her touch flickers across his emotions, but instead of enjoying the sensation, he carefully puts it away.

Guard your thoughts, Jenna.  At least a little. He's not ready for the others to discover their secret, not yet.  I'm going to try something.  A mental thread connects Corros' thoughts to those of his lover, a thread that he holds to one side before drawing another and projecting it to Ulfgar where he can feel the strange duality of the dwarf's mind wrapped in a spider's shell.

Ulfgar, Jenna is here as well.  I'm going to draw the others in.

Each in turn, Corros pulls the thoughts of the Five into a mental construct, a web of thought with the warlock at the center.

Let us go hunting.  If you can sense the eye, Ulfgar, we should dispose of it.

Ulfgar-spider leads Jenna and the coterie through the fog by one of his eight legs. At the T-junction, having not yet encountered the spectator, the arachnid point-druid hangs a left. The chain of friends emerges from the fog into another straight hallway. Closed doors interrupt the walls on either side at irregular intervals and the walls are hung with exotic pieces of art. The spectator is floating at an L-junction about 20' ahead of the now-seeing party (the hall in which the scouts are in presently ends and a single passage branches off to the right).

"Oh, you're really gonna get it now!" the spectator taunts, breaking into a broad, mischievous grin.

Beams shoot out from two of the monster's four stalked eyes, one each at Jenna and Ulfgar-spider.

Suddenly, Jenna can't move. Try as she might, her limbs refuse to obey her will (Jenna is paralyzed!).

Ulfgar-spider experiences a fleeting moment of confusion, but it passes like a single brief gust of wind. Somehow, he resists the beam's effect and retains his wits, such as they are.

From the around the corner of the hallway to the spectator's left steps a large man, naked save for a simple breechcloth. Really, the "man" looks more like pieces of several men, mixed and matched and crudely stitched together. Some parts are better preserved than others. Its eyes aren't quite dead, but any trace of life they contain seems to belong to someone else. A flat, stupid grown escapes its broken lips, as it lumbers past the many-eye orb, towards the Five. Corros remembers reading about such creatures and similar ilk in his Library studies. It is a flesh golem.

OOC: Raellus, on behalf of Corros Graelor, rolled 25 using 1d20+5.  arcana check. This is a Flesh Gollum. It has some resistance to magic (i.e. advantage on saving throws vs. spell effects). Furthermore, it can't be charmed, frightened, paralyzed, petrified, or poisoned. Lightening strengthens it, fire weakens it. It can only be harmed by magical or adamantine weapons. It is tough and strong but fairly slow and exceptionally stupid.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:34, Fri 24 June 2016.

As the group breaks out of the fog, Nicolai releases his hold on Jenna's shoulder.  Not a moment too soon - his hand tingles as the beam's corona brushes his fingers.  He senses Jenna's sudden rigidity but there's nothing he can do about it.

Actually, that's not entirely true.

He flicks a mental picture of his intent toward Corros, not bothering with words - just a vector writ in steel and annoyance.  Angling his small shield to deflect the crushing overhand blow he expects, he darts left, passing the construct on its right side.  He plants his foot in the juncture of floor and wall and pushes off, changing his trajectory to bring himself back into the center of the hallway, between the shambling meat-thing and the floating eye-thing.  He still doesn't know exactly what the creature is, but its retreat and deployment of - well, of a meat-shield - certainly suggests that, despite its toothy maw, it's not comfortable in knife-fighting range.

Nicolai intends to make it very uncomfortable.

Nicolai
AC 17; HP 26/45; superiority dice 2/4
Move: Into melee with the spectator
Bonus: Spending 1 superiority die for Feint
Attack: +1 rapier against spectator (+7+advantage attack; 2d8+2d6+4 damage)
Contingency/Reaction: If attacked by the spectator and missed, will expend 1 superiority die for Riposte
This message was last edited by the player at 00:37, Fri 24 June 2016.

Corros can feel the magical attack of the spectator as it washes through the minds of his companions.  The sudden freezing of Jenna's muscles and the momentary glitch that attempts to derail Ulfgar's thoughts.  It occurs to him that maybe this creature is more powerful that he thought.  It's a dangerous thought and one that he forces down before it can contaminate the minds of his friends.

As the flesh golem emerges, Corros recognizes the creature for what it is and dumps his knowledge directly into the minds of the others.  Fire is the key, and while the animated collection of flesh could tear them apart given the chance, the floating eyeball is the greater threat.

Take out the eye, I'll hold off the golem as long as I can.  Corros steps around Jenna as he gathers the power necessary to craft missiles of flame.  "My turn to protect you," he whispers, and unleashes his attacks.

Corros
40/40 HP, AC 13
Casting Fire Bolt at the golem, two missiles, +7 to attack, d10 fire damage each

Ulfgar climbed up the wall to avoid the golem, moving to join Nic in melee with the eye monster.

Ulfgar-Spider
AC: 14, HP: 26/26, +7 to Stealth, Blindsight 10', move 30', climb 30'
Bite. Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 5 ft., one creature. Hit: 7 (1d8 + 3) piercing damage, and the target must make a DC 11 Constitution saving throw, taking 9 (2d8) poison damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one. If the poison damage reduces the target to 0 hit points, the target is stable but poisoned for 1 hour, even after regaining hit points, and is paralyzed while poisoned in this way.

Using Inspiration Point to optimize hit chance.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:07, Fri 24 June 2016.

The flesh golem takes a swipe at Nic as he dances past, missing the elusive rogue. Ulfgar and Gronk aren't so lucky. Both receive thumping blows from one of its meaty fists as they pass by on their way to attack the spectator (Ulfgar-spider -13HP; Gronk -13HP).

Nic arrives first, feinting before thrusting his rapier at the spectator's large central eye. The floating orb bobs and weaves, avoiding the attack. Ulfgar-spider appears on the ceiling above the creature, catching it with his venomous sting (S -20HP). Gronk is next to arrive. He swings Spike thrice but only manages to make solid contact once. The spectator is battered by the blow, but survives (S -14HP). Looking unhappy, the many-eyed orb flies down the hall and out of range of its trio of attackers (disengage).

Behind all of this, the flesh golem presses on towards the immobilized cleric. Jenna is helpless; Corros realizes this and steps in front of her, drawing the flesh golem's stupid ire. Knowing the monster's supposed vulnerabilities, the young warlock attempts to halt its advance with fire. Only one of the magical Firebolts hits the target; the stupid brute paws clumsily at the burning impact point and releases a delayed howl, before resuming its advance (FG -11HP).

Arriving within touching range, the golem raises both fists, hammer-like, above its head and drops them down on the unarmored warlock. Corros attempts to ward himself from the attacks but with decidedly less success than he'd hoped for. Only one of the blows lands, but it's a heavy one (Corros -13HP).

Nic, Ulfgar-spider, and Gronk are now at the L-junction. The badly-wounded spectator is now 30' down the adjoining hallway. Jenna breaks free from the paralysis and can take a full turn this round.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:40, Fri 24 June 2016.

The panic had welled up inside Jenna immediately when she had found herself frozen in place, unable to do so much as blink. She had been helpless, totally and utterly helpless as Corros had stepped in front of her, placing himself between her and the approaching thing...the Gollum. She had wanted to say no, to tell him that he would be hurt, maybe badly, but her lips would not form words, she could only stand, watch, as her lover took the blows that would otherwise have struck her.

Jenna Drax feels utterly helpless. If she could she would probably cry. And then she feels a salty tear run down her cheek.

The Priestess tries to blink. Her eyelids flicker. Corros is in front of her, reeling from the Gollum's attack. She blinks again, her eyes shifting from their normal blue to a pure obsidian, black as the darkest night. The fingers of her left hand clench into a first. Her legs are responding again, doing what she tells them to do. "Leave him be!" she shouts, trying to draw the thing's attention away from the Warlock, the fingers of her right hand tracing a pattern in the thin air. A heartbeat later divine fire erupts from above, a torrent of radiant flame that is intended to envelop the Gollum as she calls out to Corros. "Get behind me!"

Jenna
AC: 21, HP44/44
Casting Sacred Flame Cantrip (2d8 Damage)

Air explodes out of Corros' lungs with the impact of the flesh golem's fist. Bravery had a physical toll, and while he paid it willingly, it still fucking hurt.  Relief floods into replace the vacancy in his lungs with Jenna's words proof that she has managed to shake off the effects that had locked her into place moments ago.  The helplessness in her thoughts is replaced with something far more dangerous.  Corros smiles at that, and rolls behind her before coming up to let loose another pair of firey missiles.


Corros
27/40 HP, AC 13
Casting fire bolt, 2 missiles at FG. +7 to hit d10 fire damage each

Nicolai presses his advance as the spectator pulls back, alternating jabs with his rapier and swings of his shield toward the creature's eyestalks, trying to overwhelm it before landing a decisive blow.

Nicolai
AC 17; HP 26/45; superiority dice 1/4
Move: Back into melee with the spectator
Bonus/Contingency: If Nicolai is soloing the spectator (i.e., neither Gronk nor Ulfgar presses it), expend last superiority die for Feint to gain advantage
Attack: +1 rapier against spectator (+7; 1d8+2d6+4 damage; advantage and +1d8 Feinting)

Ulfgar-spider ignored the pain and scamped forward to attack five-eyes again, hoping that another onslaught of palps and poison might finally send this creature to it's demise.

Ulfgar-Spider
AC: 14, HP: 13/26, +7 to Stealth, Blindsight 10', move 30', climb 30'
Bite. Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 5 ft., one creature. Hit: 7 (1d8 + 3) piercing damage, and the target must make a DC 11 Constitution saving throw, taking 9 (2d8) poison damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one. If the poison damage reduces the target to 0 hit points, the target is stable but poisoned for 1 hour, even after regaining hit points, and is paralyzed while poisoned in this way.

Gronk is torn. The spectator, looking to be in bad shape, is on the run. The gladiator wouldn't mind landing the killing blow. But, on the other hand, Gronk can somehow sense Corros' pain and trepidation in the face of the flesh golem. The young warlock can certainly handle himself, but he's not the most robust fellow and, when last Gronk saw Jenna, she was frozen stiff.

"You got this!" Gronk calls to Nic and Ulfgar, before turning around and heading back to take on the flesh golem.

He comes up behind the golem, shouting, "Hey, butt-wad, pick on someone yer own size!" as he lashes out with his morning star.

Gronk
AC 18; HP 52/65
Goading attack first, then second attack

-

Tactically abandoned by their half-orc comrade, Nic and Ulfgar-spider advance quickly to finish the mouthy spectator before it can cause any more trouble.

Running down the hallway in hot pursuit, Nic suddenly finds himself falling. One heartbeat he's planting his leading foot on an expensive-looking rug, the next it's giving away beneath his weight (Passive perception fail). With impressive agility, the rogue manages to use his forward momentum to dive over the gaping pit, scuffing his hands and knees as he lands heavily on the flagstone floor on the far side of the gap (Dex save success!). As he quickly regains his feet, the carpet rises up behind him menacingly, fully exposing the pitfall that it had been concealing.

Ulfgar-spider, walking across the ceiling, is untroubled by the pit trap. He continues his advance until he's within striking range of the floating eye orb. The creature absorbs another sting but this one proves too much for it. Central eye rolling into the back of its spherical head/body, the spectator coughs once and then drops to the floor with a fleshy thud (Spectator -8HP; Spectator is dead!).

Meanwhile, Corros and Jenna face off with the towering flesh golem. As the priestess of Arma calls down a holy fire on the brutish creature, Corros rolls behind her. The golem swipes at the retreating warlock (op attack) but misses. So too, unfortunately, does the Sacred Flame. It touches down harmlessly just behind the monster. Corros is quickly back on his feet and launching two more fire-bolts at the flesh golem; this time, both find the target (FG -22HP). Badly singed, the golem roars wheezily but single-mindedly continues its assault.

Gronk arrives behind the golem and bashes it between its mismatched shoulder blades with his morning star. A second blow from Spike crashes into the monster's ribs underneath its left arm (FG -30HP). The golem misses Jenna with one wildly swung fist, then turns on the half-orc, catching him with a heavy open-handed strike across the face (Gronk -13HP).


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:51, Sat 25 June 2016.

Having managed to avoid the golem's swinging fist Jenna now lunges forward as Arma's fire sputters harmlessly on the carpet and the creature turns its attention to Gronk, the Priestess grasping Arma's Blessing firmly in her right hand, lashing out at the vile construct with the enchanted hammer, trying to channel the rage that is coursing through her into the blows, a rage fuelled by the thing's attack on Corros.

Jenna
AC: 21, HP44/44
Attacking golem with warhammer (1d8 +3)
Using War Priest for bonus attack
Casting Divine Favour for extra 1d4 radiant damage

"You have got to be fucking joking," Nicolai growls, kicking the spectator's corpse in annoyance as he backs away from the menacing carpet.  He considers hurdling the pit again to engage the floor covering but, memories of his brief struggle in the sewers still fresh, he has a limited desire to close with something so obviously eager to suffocate him.  Instead, he shrugs off his shield, plucks a throwing spike from its hiding place, and flicks it out as a test of the thing's defenses.

Nicolai
AC 17 15; HP 26/45; superiority dice 1/4
Move: To within 20' of the animated carpet
Attack: Dart against carpet (+6; 1d4+3 damage; range 20'/60'; +2d6 damage if someone else is within 5' of target)

Stupid five-eyes! Ulfgar thought as the dead creature fell to the ground.  Now if only those Cosmic fuckers would leave me alone," he thought to himself.

In Spider form, he crawled down to the floor and watched for a second as Nicolai dealt with the attacking Carpet.  He sighed once, then suddenly appeared in his normal form.

"carped Evra yn ddigon i ddelio â diolch i chi! Ulfgar exclaimed with a mixture of resignation and perhaps slight resentment, as he cast a spell.  If only there were a Remove Bush spell in the Druidae repertoire.  But no, it was all about 'growth'.

In any event, this carpet would be taking the brunt of his frustrations with his betrothed's grooming standards.

Ulfgar Frostbeard
Moving to floor, wherever...
AC: 15 HP: 66/66
Casting Dispel Magic on the Carpet (Spell Save DC: 15)
This message was last edited by the player at 17:16, Sun 26 June 2016.

Gronk let the jarring slap fuel his inner fire. The former gladiator stood toe to toe with the big, dumb meat-bag, swinging Spike with purposeful abandon.

Gronk
AC 18; 39/65 HP
2x Rage attacks v. the flesh golem

-

"This thing needs to just die," Corros says while he readies another flurry of magical energy to lash the golem.  "Or, you know, die again, yeah?".  Based on the amount of flesh welded together to create this walking horror, a lot of death had already been visited upon it.  Maybe between his magic and the rage coursing through his companions they could bring this thing down.

Corros
27/40 HP, AC 13
Two more fire bolts, +7, d10 each

The flesh golem is bracketed by Jenna and Gronk, facing the latter. Jenna thumps it twice in the back with Arma's Blessing (FG -15HP). As the stupid brute turns around to give answer, Gronk gives it two hard thumps of his own (FG -30HP). The combined attacks are too much for the sewn-together construct of mortified human flesh to take. The golem collapses, dead again, twice and for all this time (FG is dead!).

Meanwhile, Nic and Ulfgar, the latter now back in dwarf form, try to dispatch the animated carpet. Nic's thrown dagger hits the upright floating rug side on, bouncing off without having done any appreciable damage. Ulfgar's spell is just as ineffective- the carpet doesn't respond to the druid's follow-up Dispel Magic spell, having somehow resisted the anti-magic effect.

Undulating like a wave about to break on a stormy day, the rug leaps on Nic, enveloping the rogue in its folds and attempting to smother him. The Ardani rogue struggles to free himself but the rug of smothering maintains its hold (STR save failed; Nic -10HP).

A tall figure steps over the dead spectator, into the hallway. The figure is dressed in a hooded, damasked black cloak over pale yellow robes. Over all rests a glowing blue mantle, in appearance like translucent plate armor. The cowled figure speaks with a male voice, low but leaden with authority and power.

"That will be quite enough!"

As if in response to stranger's command, the rug of smothering eases its grip on Nic, allowing him to breath and speak again, but not completely relinquishing its hold. The man's voice is vaguely familiar.

"This nonsense has gone on far too long. Why are you wasting your time wandering the sewers and trespassing on private property? Do you not have a city to save? My master must insist that you cease this unlawful intrusion and leave the premises at once."

It's Thumek, Lovad Padin's mild-mannered majordomo.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:35, Sun 26 June 2016.

The appearance of the servant doesn't quite catch Corros by surprise, but it is still an intrusion.  He can considered on more than one occasion that the Five might be about to crash into Padin's private sanctuary in search of the missing sewer rat and Thumek's appearance confirms the suspicion.  A glance at the man doesn't reveal much other than total self control.  A more studied observation reveals a defensive posture multiple spell deep crisscrossing the servant who probably has more spells ready to go should the warlock and his companions press the attack.

He's covered in spells of protection, Corros sends to the others.  And I won't be able to turn back any attacks that he sends our way.  I don't think we should forget what has happened down here, Lovad certainly won't, but I don't know that it's worth our while to press forward.  We have too many enemies right now as it stands.

Jenna slowly lowers her hammer as Thumek shows himself, Corros' thoughts drifting through her mind as she looks at Padin's servant through eyes that remain black as night. There is an immediate temptation to say 'no, we will decide what is enough, and the young Warlock standing next to her would surely  be able to sense her urge to launch an attack with hammer and divine magic, for clearly something was being hidden here, some secret, for why else would Padin have put such defences in place?

Rationality must prevail however. Corros was right. They had too many enemies, and clearly there was an arcane power at play here that may be far in excess of their own strengths. And so Jenna nods. She would have normally left moments like this to Nicolai, but he still lay wrapped in the embrace of the rug that had entrapped him, so the blonde haired Priestess takes a step forward, inclines her head briefly, attempts to sound as contrite as she can. "My apologies, Sir. No offence was intended. With your permission we shall take our leave at once."

There's a hollow along Nicolai's side, formed by the angle of his shield where the carpet pins it against his hip and forearm.  The Ardani works his wrist carefully.  The knife strapped to his forearm slides free.  He hooks a fingertip around the pommel, drags it closer, gets a full grip.  The carpet tenses in warning, then backs off as Nicolai presses the dagger's point against its embroidery.

Nicolai draws his first deep breath in what feels like a few minutes, rolls over to make eye contact with Thumek, and fixes the "majordomo" with a glare backed by all his frustration and anger.  "Your master does a poor job of keeping his minions informed, it seems."  He gives Thumek two heartbeats to process the implicit insult and draw breath to respond, then rolls over the incipient rebuke.  "He is well aware of our reasons for 'wandering' the sewers, which involve an investigation that has everything to do with salvaging," he puts a contemptuous twist into the word, "this city.  If any of the servants here had bothered to tell us this was his domain, especially that foul-mouthed one," he jerks his chin toward the spectator's corpse, "we'd have continued our work elsewhere.  But none could be bothered to invoke his name before attacking us.  We're not the aggressors here, Thumek.  Are you?"

His knuckles press against a rough seam in the carpet, an old repair, perhaps from the damage done by a previous adversary.  He angles his blade, ready to rip his way free if Thumek resumes hostilities.

Thumek is silent for a moment, cold fire smoldering in the dark eyes shadowed beneath his cowl. His countenance softens when again he speaks.

"Such audacity. A quality the master appreciates in you, I suppose."

He looks sidelong at the meatball corpse at his feet, then back at Nicolai.

"But you do have a point. Rest assured that security will be much improved going forward. Now- this is Lovad Padín's private property and you are here uninvited, trespassing. Again. There. You've been informed. Now, if you have further business with the master, please call at the front door, like respectable folk. Is that clear enough? Yes? Good. You know the way out."

Thumek makes a subtle gesture with his fore and middle fingers and the rug leaps from Nic's shoulders back atop the pit opening, stretching taught and spanning it. The major domo's gaze remains fixed on the party, protective wards still glimmering; his mind remains closed to Corros' perception.

On the way out, the Five again pass their most recently vanquished foes. The flesh golem, brutishly powerful undead construct, two sets of magically animated ceremonial armor, and a creature that looks like a cross between a werewolf and some nightmare ape from the Dark Lands south of the Great Dune Sea. It's a strange menagerie, not the typical warehouse security force of some run-of-the-mill coastal merchant. Furthermore, Thumek is clearly much more than a glorified butler.

The Five encounter no more surprises during the slog from the secret door back to the surface-level sewer entrance. It's been over a month since Tagger and the Drowned Rats sent to find him disappeared. Shim insists that the boys could have dodged the carrion crawlers that are sometimes encountered in the sewer system, but the giant albino crocodile and gelatinous cube recently dispatched by the Five proved to be more formidable hunters- ambush predators not likely to leave much, if any, evidence of their prey's passing. And the party saw clear signs that the apelike creature encountered in Padin's subterranean hallway also spent time in the sewers, doing what one can only imagine.

It's possible that Shim will accept the hypothesis that Tagger and others fell victim to the croc and/or the cube at face value, although the Five secured no evidence to substantiate that claim. Whether the boy and his gang-mates will lower the price of entry to Firewatch Keep in return for that information remains to be seen. That meeting will have to wait.

---

One by one, the Five emerge from the open sewer grate, squinting against the hazy afternoon sun that greets them. The pale white orb is partially obscured by high grey clouds, but compared to the darkness below, its diffuse light is initially painfully bright.

"Drop your weapons!" a harsh voice shouts from a side alley.

As the last of the Five climbs into the cobbled street, eight armed men emerge from various nearby approaches to stand in a rough circle around the open sewer entrance. Six of them wear the red-lacquered armor of the Bloodforged, two the orange-faced black cloaks of the city watch collaborators. The mercenaries display the confidence of men who've wet their weapons with the blood of other men. The two watchmen's apparent bravado, on the other hand, is barely skin deep.

"Drop 'em or we drop you!" the mercenary in charge reiterates, his voice tense with anticipation.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:07, Fri 08 July 2016.

"Well spoken.  Maybe not persuasive..." Corros mutters from his position in the center of The Five.  His eyes are watering slightly at the sudden change in the intensity of the light and he is forced to blink a couple of tears away.  Maybe the Bloodforged got lucky.  Which would mean The Five just had their luck take a turn for the worse.  Or...or what?  A pathway of multiple suspicions, none of which were of any bearing in importance right now?  Seconds were going to start sliding by.

The warlock draws the minds of his companions together.  Fight or surrender?  I make it six on five, the guardsmen will hang back if we attack hard on the mercenaries.

Just another day trying to save the city of Balefyre.

Gronk makes eye contact with one of the watchmen and scowls.

Gronk rolled 22 using 1d20+3.  Intimidation check.

Unnerved, the watchman raises his spear a few inches and takes a step backwards. His companion notices the subtle retrograde; this seems to dampen his spirits as well.

I'm kinda liking these odds, Gronk thinks at Corros. You make the call.

If it comes down to a fight, it's now likely to be Five against six instead of Five against eight.

-

Jenna blinks as her eyes, now back to their normal colour, adjust to the daylight. I am fine with either. Give them the choice. If they do not wish to surrender, then we fight, add their names to the list of those we have slain. Whether she had misunderstod Corros' intent or was making light of the situation was impossible to discern, but in either case, it is no idle threat, for the Priestess's fingers are already tightening around Arma's Blessing. If what the Priest at the Temple had said earlier was correct, sending these servants of the Reaver to meet their Master would be a pleasure.

Corros straightens up, and smooths out his robes trying and mostly succeeding to avoid the accumulated ick that will have to be laundered out.  Again.  Then he sighs.  Loudly.

"It appears, good sirs, that you have mistaken us for people who would be intimidated by your weapons and anger." The warlock looks for the leader of the the group, presumably the man with more armor than sense that addressed the Five to begin with.  His tone is light, conversational as he directs the rest of his speech directly at the mercenary.  "It's an honest enough mistake and one you are not the first to make.  No sense in being ashamed of that.  Not the first time, won't be the last.  Please understand, our day has been aggravating enough already, what with our encounters with the zoo this city seems to keep in its sewers. Not to mention the sewers themselves."

He pauses for a moment. "I, for one, am tired of smelling like shit, yeah?  And we will be on our way here in a moment to get cleaned up.  As soon as you put away your weapons and leave us the fuck alone.

"And why should you do that?  Well, I'm glad you asked.  Aren't you glad he asked, Nic?"  When he gets the acknowledgment he wants from the rogue, the warlock continues his monologue.  "Well, my half-orc friend has already unmanned your assistance.  The lovely lady in the plate mail has an allergy to assholes that usually involves lots of blood on her armor, rarely hers.  The dwarf is as angry as is usual in dwarves and I've seen him literally turn into a badger to tear someone's face off.  I'm only partly sure that he then proceeded to do something so indecent to the mess that was left that I refuse to mention it in front of the children." Corros runs his hand over the gathering crowd.  "Partly sure. The dark man stabbing you all to death with his eyes is just as efficient with a sword.  And, the last thing that really annoys me, I'm almost all out of spells."

Almost, he sends directly to the man's brain.

"Clearly, we will be going now. You gentleman have enough to do today without having to be slowed down by us. Have a nice day." Corros smiles, pure diplomacy in his tone.

"Delighted," Nicolai purrs at Corros' cue.  His accent is that of the western Caliphates, all compressed vowels and clipped, efficient syllables.  "It's good to meet a man concerned with understanding the 'why' of things."

He adopts a stance and expression of strained tolerance, examining the six Bloodforged as if he can't decide whether to tutor them or murder them.  As Corros finishes, he favors the presumed leader with a knowing smile, making it quite clear that he's aware the man has begun hearing voices in his head.

"As my emir says," he chuckles.  "Perhaps we'll meet again when he calls upon your commander."  Poof, you're a noble.  Don't say I never did anything to elevate your station.

He turns in lockstep with Corros, keeping the Bloodforged in his peripheral vision.  One thumb is tucked casually into his swordbelt, ready for a draw if the mercenaries begin to move.  A casual scan of the rooftops shows more than enough corvine silhouettes at the ready, watching the street intently.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:49, Fri 08 July 2016.

The Bloodforged mercenaries hesitate, shuffling their feet and exchanging glances. When he reaches out to their leader, Corros feels the man's growing doubt, tinged with the bitter tang of fear. With false bravado, the mercenary captain finally speaks,

"Go on then."

As the Five pass out of the circle of pointy steel, they overhear a snippet whispered by the leader to one of his comrades,

"...more men."

Corros and Nic lead the party towards the River Ward. They quickly realize that they are being followed. The six mercenaries have become five, accompanied by their two reluctant auxiliaries; they're struggling to keep up, but determined not to lose their quarry.

Ahead, cater-corner across the fish market, Corros spies the missing merc, with four more Redcloaks in tow.

"There they are! Over there!", the sixth man shouts.

The new group ahead spreads into a line, forming an anvil to the hammer coming up behind. The Five are about to be caught between two forces. Perhaps, the companions muse, Corros only delayed the fight. A shiny object arcs out of the sky to the picket's right, flopping awkwardly as it tumbles through the air, and smacks one of the mercenaries upside the head. The fish-smacked man staggers and drops to one knee, surprised more than hurt. A second flying mackerel lands on the cobbles nearby with a wet thwack, then another, and another. A glass bottle shatters at the feet of one of the other mercs.

Corros breaks left, using the impromptu riot to avoid the now very distracted picket, and leads his companions quickly through the now unguarded gate to the River Ward. Balefyre's street gangs, it seems, have started doing their part.

Thanks in no small part to the unexpected diversion, the Five make it safely the rest of the way back to Balint House. Thanks to Ulfgar's druidic gardening skills, the place is now swathed in a green layer of protective vegetation- all that's missing is a good solid lock on the wrought iron front gate. Lenore helps the weary and battered adventurers clean up (again) and then sets to prepping dinner while they rest and ready themselves for the next foray, whatever that should be. Shortly before supper, there's a knock on the front door; it's Shim come to call.

"I heard you went down there- into the sewers- again today. Twice. Find anything?"

Corros recounts the Five's most recent findings in the sewer, omitting any mention of the encounters in Lovan Padín's lair. Shim listens quietly, thoughtfully.

"Killer crocs and jelly cubes, you say?" Shim's struggling to decide whether to believe Corros. His tone suggests doubt is winning out. He's quiet again, engaged in some inner struggle. When he continues, it's with a softness bereft of the customary street tough's mouthy bravado.

"Look, whatever you found down there, it's clear you've done all you can to find out what happened to Tagger and the boys. They weren't your responsibility anyway. I was just windin' you up with that thousand gold business before. I was angry. Angry with you for disappearing for a month. Angry with myself. Angry at the fuckin' Bloodforged. Pickin's have been slim with them around; it's only going to get worse now- you saw what happened out in the market today. The Rats are startin' to go hungry. We need coin. I reckon we need each other, you and us. Tell you what: I'll lead you through the sewers to the keep for 100 gold pieces. That sound fair to you?"

OOC: Consider a long rest currently underway but several hours from completion.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:41, Fri 08 July 2016.

Nicolai leans in the kitchen doorway, sipping tea from a rough clay mug as he silently listens to Shim.  "Jelly cubes," he confirms.  He tosses the acid-scarred remains of a thin black glove to the Rat.  "Fuckers damn near ate me and I'll be replacing some leather as it is."  He nods toward Jenna.  "She already fixed the other damage, else I'd be worse off."  He flexes his hand by way of illustration.

"You already helped unfuck a bad dance in the fish market today.  I'd say two hundred crowns sounds fair."  And that buys us some additional loyalty.  I can hear Jenna's teeth grinding.  Tell her it comes out of my share.

"Our disappearance was not planned," Corros says to Shim, "and we can understand your anger.  I wish I could say that we had done more to begin with, but that is on me.  The sewers in this town have proven far more dangerous than we originally suspected."  The warlock looks around the room, and sips from his own mug of tea.  With Jenna at his side he feels mostly at peace, even if they will probably be struggling against the powers that be again soon.  The urge to reach over and stroke Jenna's arm is there, just hovering in his awareness.  He suspects she can feel it.  And probably Nic, too.

"I agree with my associate.  200 pieces of gold is what you will be paid to give us access to the keep.  If you can scrape up another diversion when we emerge from the keep, another hundred is yours, but I might pay that one directly to the merchants in the market to keep you all fed.  Deal?"

That he is only a few months removed from the Rat's existence is not lost on the warlock.  It almost feels like a lecture to the younger man.  Corros tells himself it's because he's trying to make the world a better place.  He hopes it's true.

Jenna sits next to Corros, her hands clasped around a mug of hot tea. She has bathed, changed her clothes, put on the tunic that she had worn when they had fought the insect creatures at the entrance to the underground City, the white of the garment stained with patches of crimson that had not washed out, worn as a mark of honour, blood shed in the name of the Goddess.

There's a nod of acknowledgment to Nicolai when he makes reference to her healing gifts, but otherwise the Priestess says nothing as the Warlock and the Rogue take the lead in speaking to their visitor, instead simply opening her mind to her lover, savouring the feel of his thoughts, almost tangible in the way that they touch her, causing goose bumps to rise on her bare arms.

She does not utter any protest when Nicolai offers the youth twice the gold that he had requested, with Corros then offering another hundred over and above that. After all, they already had more coin than Jenna had ever seen before. although to be fair she knew that there had been vaults under the Cloisters that she had never set foot in, so could only imagine what treasures they contained.

Gronk's mood brightens considerably as talk turns to infiltrating the keep. He's back to his positive and jovial self, even offering up a couple of ideas of his own.

"Yeah, a diversion would be good- maybe get some more of the Bloodcloaks outta the keep before we get inside. And Lenore's 'friend' should be able to give us an idea what the inside of the place looks like. I like this. This is good."

-

At the mention of a potential three-hundred gold pieces, Shim's mood brightens as well. He tries to play it cool, but his answer comes too quickly, belying his eagerness.

"Deal. 200 gold to get you into the keep; 100 to draw away some of the garrison. When do you want to do this?"

-

"Think I'm going to sit this one out.  Need to go find Evra a ring and see to some other things.  Good luck storming the castle," Ulfgar said.  With that, he gave a curt nod, walked outside, turned into a horse, and galloped off to find his betrothed.

Nicolai stares at the door for several seconds as it closes behind Ulfgar, considering whether he just saw a security risk walk out and, if so, how best to assassinate a giant spider.  The conclusion at which he finally arrives, after draining his tea to buy a few more seconds, is that the skin-dancer is too unconcerned with money or politics to sell out the rest of the group.

"The sooner the better.  Provisionally, late tonight or just before dawn," he responds to Shim.  "We'll need to speak to some information sources -" he almost says "intelligence" but isn't certain the Drowned Rat won't misunderstand his meaning "- about what's happening inside the keep so we know where to go and what disguises to use once we're in."

And, just like that, the Five becomes Four.

The remaining companions, and Shim, are left to contemplate the significance of the dwarf druid's abrupt, unexpected departure from the adventuring party. Gronk, in particular, seems stunned by Ulfgar's sudden exit. There is one small consolation: Ulfgar's left the Bag of Holding behind.

The party doesn't have too much time to dwell on their loss. Jurvis arrives shortly, bearing news.

"The Redcloaks have shut down the fish market, torn down a few stalls, split some skulls, and made a bunch of arrests. Someone's pissed 'em well off."

The Five, or Four, rather, have been inside Fire Watch keep on at least two occasions, but they were never given the grand tour. As a former watchmen, Jurvis is intimately familiar with the building's layout.

"So, the keep is five stories tall. The main stair enters here, on the second floor [OOC: first floor in Europe]. That's the kitchens and the common room/mess hall. The ground floor, below that, is one big storeroom. The third floor is the cell block where prisoners are kept. The fourth floor is another dormitory for the keep's garrison. Commander Overmark's private quarters and offices are on the top floor. Course, the albino's moved in, that son-of-a-bitch.

"These three towers," he explains, pointing at the northwest, northeast, and southeast towers, "contain spiral staircases connecting all of the different floors. Actually, I take that back- the cell block can only be accessed by the southeast stair. This one [the southwest tower] contains all of the keep's garderobes. There's one main vertical shaft dropping straight down the middle of the whole tower, right down into the sewers, and the privies are offset on each level, each feeding into the main shaft with smaller, angled shafts of their own.

"The way the guards are organized has changed a bit since the Bloodforged took over. They've been beefing up security lately. There are usually two guards on duty in the cell block at all times, but there could be more, on account of the current prison population. There are at least six men at the front gate. They keep the portcullis lowered most of the time now.

"I don't know how you plan on gettin' yourselves in. I can get y'all Firewatch cloaks, if that'll help. Anything else I can do, I'll try.

"Oh, and all the foreign diplomatic types, they're stayin' at the Mermaid's Tale, in the Harbor Ward, under heavy Bloodforged guard, of course. Most of 'em have their own bodyguards too."

Shim's been listening quietly the whole time. He speaks up.

"The privy shaft's prolly gonna be pretty slick. The main shaft's straight up and down you say?" he asks Jurvis. "Vertical. Right. OK. I can probably shimmy up as far as the second floor, maybe higher. It'll be tricky, that's for sure."

*OOC: I'm not real happy with this layout so I might make some changes.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:46, Sat 23 July 2016.

"Privy shaft.  Hrm."  Nicolai cuts Jenna a glance.  "I know you can get up that, but can you get up it in armor?"

”I don’t know” Jenna replies. A privy shaft. Wonderful. More shit to wade through. The Priestess had only just managed to shake off the odours of their last visit to the sewers, thanks in no small part to spending the part of an hour in the bathtub. Alone. Expending most of the house’s supply of hot water in the process.

She turns to Corros. ”I don’t suppose you have any sorcery that could make the guards think we’re something that we’re not to get in to the tower? Like Bloodforged? Or foreign envoys?” Jenna would much rather walk through the front gate than climb up a shit shaft.

"I don't," Corros answers his lovers question with a grimace of regret.  "And I really don't want to have to climb up a privy.  Only partly because of the smell.  I agree with Nic that sneaking in that way is going to limit the gear we can carry."  The problem occupies his mind for a few moments as he chews through some different options before turning to Jurvis.

"If there was a disturbance inside the Keep, say for instance a group of Drowned Rats attempting to climb the privy shaft and making all kinds of noise, would you be able to lead us in through any confusion that was occurring?  I'm guessing they would have to shift some guards around to deal with the situation.  If we were wearing the proper cloaks and you were with us...maybe..."

The half-elf really doesn't want another cold bath stewing in his own filth.  Not unless he has to.

"What about if we could get Bloodforged uniforms?" Jenna was thinking aloud now, her hands still clasped around her mug of tea, enjoying Corros' closeness. To be fair, she had no clue how they would do that, short of ambushing a Bloodforged patrol. Or maybe they could find out who did their laundry for them. After all, they were hardly likely to do their own.

"We could pretend we were bringing in a prisoner." The Priestess shoots a look in Gronk's direction, gives an apologetic shrug. "That might get us into the cell block. Then Gronk gets loose and in the chaos we rescue the prisoners." She shrugs again. The more she talked the less practical it sounded.

And tall as she was, she was probably a little short for a Bloodforged.

Gronk raises his eyebrows and gives Jenna a shrug.

No offense taken.

"If only we had a guy that could turn into a giant spider, climb walls, and shoot silk ropes out his ass..." he muses wryly, still stung by Ulfgar's abandonment of the group.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 21:33, Wed 13 July 2016.

Shim looks Jenna up and down, perhaps a little too appraisingly.

"Yeah, she'd fit. Even in armor. He's the only one who might not," the boy continues, looking now at the half-orc, "but if we grease him up first, would could prob'ly squeeze him through."

Jurvis interjects to answer Corros and Jenna's questions regarding subterfuge,

"I mean, sure, you could try to bluff your way into the keep, either as Fire Watch or Bloodforged, but the garrison's likely to be a bit more on their toes now, on account of the recent riot and everything.

"I can get ye Fire Watch cloaks no problem. From a distance they'd probably work pretty well. Up close, I'm not so sure. They'd likely recognize me. They only kept 'bout two dozen of us on. That's not too many faces to remember.

"We could probably scrounge up some red cloaks for ye, given some time, but red armor will be a bit trickier."

Jurvis hesitates, as if put off by the weight of what he's about to suggest, "But, you know, there're other ways to get Bloodforged armor..."

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:31, Wed 13 July 2016.

Feeling rather chuffed that he, a simple pit fighter, could produce such a capital bolt of inspired scheming, Gronk practically shouts, "Hey, if we're gonna grab us some mercs, maybe we can arrange a prisoner swap!"

-
This message was last edited by the player at 23:49, Wed 13 July 2016.

Jurvis is quick to throw cold water on the scheme, "Sorry lad, but the Albino's not likely to trade his prize hostages for a squad o' mercs."

-

Shim's look had made Jenna feel slightly uneasy. Whilst she says nothing aloud, not wishing to alienate their new found ally, she wonders of Coros can sense her discomfort. Shifting slightly in her seat, she turned towards Jurvis. "If we managed to get armour we may have to keep its rightful owners hidden away for a while. At least until we have left the Keep. Would any of your Watchmen be willing to help us in that task? The risks would be minimal, the prisoners can be hooded and your men masked."

A thought then crosses the Priestess's mind. She leans forward in her seat, hands cupping the mug, looking at Jurvis. "He might not trade them for a few of his men. But is there anything he would trade them for?" Probably not, but it was worth a try.

Jurvis hesitates. "I dunno... maybe. That's a lot to ask." The former city watchman is quiet, considering the proposal, "I'll talk to some of the lads but I can't promise anything."

Jurvis looks at Lenore. The half-orc woman frowns and shakes her head. It's easy to forget that she's more than a housekeeper. "This conspiracy's getting too big. The more folks that know about it, the more folks we have to worry about talking. I'd rather you not be bringing any Redcloak prisoners here, but if you must, Jurvis and I can keep an eye on them for you."



Jurvis purses his lips as he begins to mull over the querry. Although Jenna's question wasn't addressed to him, Shim proffers a possibility.

"How about them foreign big-wigs you mentioned?"

Lenore looks at the young hood with a mix of astonishment and new-found respect. She turns to the Four and offers her assessment of the suggestion.

"Losing emissaries from Varimor and the Caliphates would be more than a major embarrassment for Zardis Kreyg. First off, he can't broker a deal for the city without them. Second, if anything happens to them, he can say goodbye to his chances of ever getting another contract from their respective countries again. I think he'd do it- trade Overmark and Breakwater for the emissaries, that is."

Jurvis again acts as wet blanket, "Maybe so, but you can be sure that once he gets 'em back he'll tear the city apart looking for whoever took 'em."

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:01, Fri 15 July 2016.

The Four spend the rest of the afternoon and early evening finalizing their plan, resting, and preparing. Using his ravens as an ersatz messenger service, Nic summons Vim Vander and Sanja of the Waterbearers to Balint House for an impromptu meeting. Two possible safe houses are arranged, a secret apartment in the Gate Ward, maintained by Vernar Vander for some unknown but suspect purpose (most likely as a meeting place for illicit liaisons), and a vacant tenement in the River Ward, used as a squat by the Drowned Rats.

Pending Toesplitter's approval, the Waterbearers and the Rats agree to attack the Customs House in the Harbor Ward, once they receive the go ahead to do so (presumably by raven courier). A riotous conflagration should draw away at least a  portion of the Boodforged garrison from the keep, creating the diversion the Four will undoubtedly need in order for their ruse-based infiltration of the city jail to stand any chance of success. Shim and a couple of Rats will wait in the sewers at the base of the keep's main privy shaft should the Four need to use the underground escape route. Lenore and Jurvis will be in charge of guarding any prisoners that might result from the patrol ambush; for the time being, they'll be holding down the fort at Balint House.

Resting and readying, with arrangements for a diversion and a safe house completed, the Four wait for darkness and the curfew before setting out for the Harbor Ward to attempt the planned prisoner snatch (long rest completed). With Nic's ravens serving as lookouts, the Four split into pairs and slink into parallel alleys at the north end of the ward, about two blocks or so east of the Customs House. As they wait, a cold, misty rain begins to fall from the overcast that conceals the moon. After about an hour, fours sharp caws from a raven perched on the eaves of a building about a block to the east signals the impending arrival of a four-man Bloodforged patrol. Since the recent riot in the fish market, its unlikely that a smaller patrol will be encountered in this part of the city anytime soon.

The two pairs wait until the patrol is bracketed between the narrow, dark alleyways before stepping out on to the rain-slicked cobbles glistening under dim lamplight, surprising and effectively trapping the four unwitting Redcloaks between them. Two of the mercs are clad in red-lacquered splint mail, longswords at their hips, and look particularly grizzled. Perhaps Arma is smiling on the Four tonight- one of veterans is a half-orc. The other two Bloodforged, human men both, are wearing red-dyed leathers, studded with iron, and carrying maces; this pair appears a little less battle-hardened. All four mercenaries are carrying red shields slung across their backs.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:41, Tue 19 July 2016.

Since the Tricht Restoration movement brought renewed respect to the performing arts a generation ago, bards have been among Ardane's top exports.  A good cover identity plays to the target's expectations, so the Throne's Reach makes (made) a point of training all its agents to pass as performers of some strain.  Nicolai's lessons were in stagecraft, and, despite all the distractions that an acting troupe offered, he still managed to retain a few things.  Among these was a slight talent for scene management...

With corvine top-eyes, it's almost painfully simple to time the ambush's emergence for maximum impact.  The Bloodforged are illuminated fore and aft by the same streetlamps that backlight Nicolai and his companions.  With a few adjustments to garb and instructions to Corros to stop slouching, dammit, you're not trying to hide in a crowd here, the Four are tall, ominous figures, their faces shadowed and grim.  The rain is an unasked-for boon, but it's one Nicolai is glad to exploit (and for which he's careful to offer a brief, silent thanks to Aero).  With its susurrus masking all sound and the diffused light drawing dark curtains around the area, the mercenaries are at the center of a silent, silvery-grey bubble of isolation.

The Four slide out of the alleys in synchronicity.  Blue witch-lights glimmer from their drawn weapons and highlight their armor.  It's a harmless alchemic preparation that'll wash away within minutes in the precipitation, but it serves its purpose now.  They stand motionless for three heartbeats while Nicolai reaches out through his ring to the collective minds of his unkindness.

The rain attenuates the rattle of wings as eight ravens drop from the sky.  No one ever looks up for trouble, Nicolai observed earlier in the night, and he's glad to see his prediction held true here.  Hold fast, he sends now through Corros' link; they did rehearse, but a flinch here would undermine the whole scene.  There's a prick of claws at his shoulders as a raven alights on each side, mirrored three times more as each of his companions acquires a pair of avian ornaments.  The remaining birds - their numbers fluctuate every time Nicolai counts, so he's given up trying to keep a tally - are out sight behind the shutters on either side of the street, but their sudden burst of not-quite-muttering and movement gives the impression of reinforcements just out of sight.

"Gentlemen."  Nicolai's accent is that of the local upper-class now, a languid drawl that makes the elder Vander sound vaguely uncouth.  "Heed my master, if you please."  He gestures toward Gronk, flicking a trail of glowing droplets from the tip of his rapier.

This next part, Nicolai isn't worried about at all.  No gladiator survives the pits without being a performer in his own right.  You're on, big guy.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:23, Tue 19 July 2016.

How am I supposed to follow that? Gronk wonders, impressed with Nic's performance, even though he'd been told what to expect. Well, the show must go on, he decides. Time to break a leg. Or several.

"Evening, boys. Tisk-tisk. Don't be hasty now. Hands off those weapons. That's good. Now, you got a choice to make. It's pretty simple. Surrender, or feed the crows. What'll it be, eh?"

Today: Raellus, on behalf of Gronk, rolled 20 using 1d20+4.  intimidation check w/ adv.
Today: Raellus, on behalf of Gronk, rolled 22 using 1d20+4.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 23:09, Tue 19 July 2016.

Corros wants to giggle.  He can't help it, really can't help it.  It doesn't show, of course, the warlock is disciplined enough in his role that he can hide his emotions quite well.  You don't survive long in the grip of the Eleventh Finger wearing your heart on your sleeve, but gods be damned, the whole situation is ridiculous.

He's never tried the imposing thing before.  Implied violence, suave tones, sure.  But actually standing tall and looking tough, silent, and brooding?  Not as such.  It's uniquely of fun in an alarming to his personality and outlook on life kind of way.  Maybe Jenna thinks it's hot, all manly, or half-manly/half-elfy or something.  Still, the warlock does his part and tries not to cackle as his friends deal with the word play, even impressed as Gronk gets his threats out at just the right level of "We'd be happy to kill you. Or not. You're call."

Jenna can feel the rain on her face, a steady drizzle that causes her hair to cling to her skin as the ravens come to rest on her armoured shoulders. She's aware of Corros standing next to her focus remains fixed on  mercenaries, holding eye contact with them, her expression impassive as the birds settle, her demeanour giving the impression that it was such a regular occurrence it was a wonder that the smoke grey metal didn't carry tell tale trails of bird shit.

She remains silent when Gronk has finished speaking, the half orc's words speaking for all of them. On previous occasions Jenna has addressed their enemies directly, but that had usually been after the die had already been cast, when battle had been about to commence. Perhaps this time there would be no battle. It was out of her hands now. Nicolai and Gronk had each said their piece. A random spark of blue fire flickers and dances over her shield, seeming to crackle in the night air, causing the raven on her right shoulder emit a gurgling croak.

Slowly Jenna's lips curl into a smile. The Priestess stands like an armoured sentinel, Arma's Blessing held in her right hand, the hammer's leather strap wrapped around her wrist. In the gloom the dried blood that stains its blunt head probably cannot be seen.  Perhaps fresh blood would adorn the hammer in a few minutes. Arma would decide what would happen next. Either the mercenaries would yield. Or they would not. And if they did not it would give Jenna great pleasure to send those who might be followers of the Reaver to meet their false god.

Her eyes are unblinking, locked on those of the nearest Bloodforged as she slowly raises Arma's Blessing until it is level with her chest, begins to tap the front of her shield with the hammer as the rain continues to fall, a rhythmic tattoo that is intended to convey an air of quiet but deadly menace to supplement the words of the others and the croaking of the bird.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:00, Wed 20 July 2016.

The four cornered mercenaries hesitate, exchanging glances and weighing up the opposition. They clearly don't like what they see. Finally, the merc in charge, the half-orc, says bitterly,

"Alright. We'll take yer quarter. Stand down, men."

The Four quickly disarm and bind the Redcloaks before shuffling them off towards Vander's secret love nest in the Gate Ward. The dim, rain-slicked street doesn't lend itself to an armor swap, so the party avoids the Neck and keeps to back streets, stopping briefly to blindfold the prisoners as they arrive within a few blocks of their destination. When the Four arrive, prisoners in tow, Lenore and Jurvis are waiting. The mercenaries are relieved of their armor, two sets of which are immediately put to use, and rebound. The half-orc's splint mail is a little snug for Gronk, who's at least a hand's' breadth taller and wider than the Bloodforged squad leader. Nic takes his pick from the rest (two sets of studded leather, AC 12 + DEX modifier, and one suit of splint mail, AC 17). Thusly clad, the party makes a few final flourishes with lamp-black and a little goat's blood left over from the evening's supper, completing the disguise.

It's only a few blocks from Vander's apartment to the Keep. Nic sends a raven to the Waterbearer's clubhouse in the River Ward, cuing their attack on the Fire Watch Guardhouse in the Harbor Ward. While they wait for the diversion to begin in earnest, the Four interrogate their dejected prisoners, learning the evening's password and countersign ("harvest" answered by "carrion"). About thirty minutes later, approximately two hours into the Middle Watch (i.e. around 2am), three sharp blasts of the fog horn echo across the city from the Moon Tower atop Beacon Rock, answered shortly by several alarm bells in the Harbor Ward. Fire! The gangs' attack on the Fire Watch Guardhouse is underway.

The Four, now disguised as two Bloodforged mercenaries (Nic & Gronk) with prisoner (Jenna) and eye-witness (Corros) in tow, go back out into the drizzling rain and head directly for the Keep, along the way encountering a large party of Redcloaks, about three-dozen strong, hurrying south down the Neck, towards the Harbor Ward. The reaction force's breathless commander stops briefly for a hurried consultation with the imposters before quickly heading off again, apparently none the wiser. It's not Nic's best performance, but the mercenaries' haste and the adventurers' disguise seems to have allayed any suspicions. The ruse has passed its first test.

10:23, Today: Raellus, on behalf of Nicolai Romanelli, rolled 12 using 1d20+5.  performance check.
Raellus, on behalf of Nicolai Romanelli, rolled 17 using 1d20+8.  deception check.

The adventurers cut northwest across the empty farmer's market, passing the temple of Arma on their left, and enter the shadow of the imposing, well-lit keep gate house. Not surprisingly, the portcullis is down. There are six men atop the gatehouse, four in red and two in black, and four men, split evenly between Bloodforged and Fire Watch, behind the thick, iron-bound lattice of the portcullis itself.

"They're ours! Open the gate!" one of the men atop the gatehouse shouts.

Today: Raellus, on behalf of Nicolai Romanelli, rolled 18 using 1d20+8.  deception check.

"Hold it! We've got orders." he's answered, this voice more authoritative.

"You there, what's the password?" the second voice demands.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:29, Wed 20 July 2016.

At the Safe House

Jenna stands, watches as Nicolai and Gronk prepare their disguises, her shield and hammer both propped against a wall. She doesn't say much as they don their Bloodforged armour, her mind turning to the dangers that their nocturnal activities present. Four of them against a Keep. She could only hope that their diversion would prove effective.

When they are ready, Jenna picks up a pair of manacles herself, hands them to Nicolai. "Put these on me but don't lock them, yes? That way I can get out of them when I have to." She then turns away from the rogue, places her hands behind her back so that he can put the manacles in place. She's counting on the darkness masking the fact that the shackles aren't secured properly.  As she does so, she nods towards Arma's Blessing and her shield. "Which one of you is going to carry those?"

Once her hands are secured, Jenna looks at Nicolai and Gronk again. "One of you should hit me. On my face, where the Bloodforged will be able to see a mark if they look." After all, if she had really just attacked a Bloodforged patrol, her captors were unlikely to be of a mind to show restraint. And whilst blood could be faked, a bruise was another matter. And so Jenna takes a deep breath, stands, head up and tilted to the right slightly, trying not to tense up as she exposes her left cheek. As she does so she a solitary thought emerges from the swirling eddies of her mind, one intended for Corros to hear. Shhhh...don't say anything. It has to be done.

Outside the Gate

Jenna stands silently as the guards call down, her head bowed, hair clinging to her face, hands behind her back, appearing to all extents and purposes to be secured there. Her posture is completely different than it had been earlier, when they had captured the mercenaries. Then her silence had radiated menace, the threat of imminent violence. Her manner now is that of one who has been subdued, perhaps by force, one who has had the fight literally knocked out of them.

At the Safe House

It is, of course, up to you, Jenna.  Discomfort rolls in Corros' mind at the thought of the priestess standing still to take a punch from one of their friends.  It's an odd sensation given that he's seen innumerable manner of creatures poke, bash, punch, stab, and try to eat Jenna over the last several weeks.  Or I can try my hand at a little make up first.  A disguise so that I get to do this instead. In their minds, Corros slides his fingers down her cheek, pulling her lip softly down just so.  Nic isn't the only one that whip up a disguise, and if it looks like make up instead of a bruise, they can always try the real option.

---

At the Gate

"Yes," Corros hurls at Nic and Gronk, playing the spoiled rich brat to the best of his ability. "By all means, provide them your password.  Apparently they can't recognize competent help either.  Mercenaries.  This ineptitude has already cost me more money than you lot will make in a year.  Security? Bah!" The warlock spits for effect, pacing back and forth and waving his arms in irritation to draw the gatekeepers' attention to him and off of the fake guards and prisoner he's standing with.

"You up there! Are you responsible for this mess?  No? Do I look like a man who wants to wait or wants to hear your terrible meek excuses?  Do you know who my father is?  Of course not, not in this land of savages.  I want this woman in chains!  Chains!  I want to see the cell door slam shut for her myself.  Or we are not paying.  Do you understand?  My money walks away.  Now.  Tonight.  All of it!"

It's pure nonsense gauged to threaten the money hungry.  And it's more than a little fun.  He just really hopes he doesn't over do it and take a crossbow bolt to the chest for all his trouble.

OOC: Corros spending inspiration

At the Safe House

Gronk looks at Jenna, then over at Nic, at Jenna again, then at Corros, and finally back to Nic.

"I ain't doing it."

He just can't hit an unarmed woman, a friend moreover.

---

At the Gate

Gronk hunches down, ostensibly against the light rain, but more to conceal the difference in height between himself and the half-orc squad leader whose armor he currently wears.

"Shut up, fancy lad!" Gronk shouts at Corros. "We're still in charge here."

He then looks up at the men atop the gate house and roars,

"It's 'harvest'! Now open the fucking gate!"

-
This message was last edited by the player at 23:19, Thu 21 July 2016.

Then:

Nicolai turns away in a fair imitation of unease as Corros' body language signals a private mental conversation.  Then, in a low voice: "Hey, Jenna."  Catch her.

As the priestess reflexively looks toward him, he pivots to meet her, bringing his left fist up in a short arc that terminates on her right cheekbone.  The lead-weighted glove he's surreptitiously donned impacts with a dull thump, sending Jenna staggering back into Corros' arms.  "Don't tense up," he sardonically counsels after the fact.  "Sorry about that, but you're right.  The rain isn't entirely in our favor."

---

Now:

The leather-clad mercenaries were the newer recruits, so Nicolai plays up the part of a relatively inexperienced trooper (and one who's just seen half his squad killed or captured), casting nervous glances over his shoulder as the quartet approaches the gate.  The shortsword in his left hand hangs in a loose, inexpert grip.  The ragged, pig-blood-soaked bandage around his right forearm is a reasonable excuse for wielding the weapon off-handed and not carrying a shield.

He backs toward the gatehouse as Gronk manhandles the prisoner in that direction, keeping his squad leader's authoritarian bulk between himself and the irate half-elven nobleman.  At the half-orc's bellowed admonition, he looks up, letting the torchlight from the gate fall on his face.  The blood still trickling from a very real razor cut at his hairline is matted in his unbound hair, which trails crimson streaks across his features.  His wide-eyed gaze fastens upon the speaker who demanded the password.

"'Harvest!'" he echoes Gronk.  "And hurry the fuck up, for M'c-Donál's sake!  They're gonna want her back!"

"Alright, keep your breeches on! Open the gate!" the man in charge shouts.

Raellus, on behalf of Nicolai Romanelli, rolled 28 using 1d20+8.  deception check.

The two watchman atop the gatehouse set to the capstans and the portcullis starts to rise. The Four's clever deception- stolen uniforms, shackles (fastened but not locked), makeup, and an angry red welt on Jenna's cheek- and rather brilliant acting by all have carried them through.

The Four hurry under the rising grate and into the courtyard.

"What the fuck's going on out there?" one of the gate guards asks.

"Riot down by the harbor. Motherfuckers set fire to the guardhouse. We grabbed one of the ringleaders. Barely got away." Gronk explains breathlessly as the party hurries by.

Not dithering to discuss the matter further, the party quickly crosses the open training yard, watched by the doubled guard on the keep's city-side walls. More mercenaries mill around under the eaves of the stables/dormitory (the stables occupy the ground floor, with the watchmen's sleeping quarters above them) along the west wall, curious but hesitant to venture out into the cold rain. The workshops against the west wall are dark and shuttered. Including the contingent at the gate, there's at two dozen soldiers in plain sight visible from the yard.

The Four reach the stairs leading to the second level entrance to the keep and begin to climb. One man is posted at the landing, a fairly new recruit by the looks of him. The party brushes by the flustered, soggy young man, and through the door (unlocked, luckily). Once inside, they break right and make a bee-line towards the southeast tower stairwell. A couple of men look up curiously from their cards at one of the trestle tables that occupy much of the common room, but no one tries to stop the new arrivals. Only one of the tower stairwells connects the lower levels of the donjon to the cell block on the fourth floor, making any attempt at a jailbreak more difficult. As in most fortified buildings, the cramped staircase spirals upward, designed to favor the defenders in the event of a hostile penetration. By the time the disguised adventurers reach their objective, they're all out of breath and still dripping. Braced for what is to come, they step out on to the landing and take in their surroundings.

The cell blocked is laid out like a capital I tipped on its back (i.e. horizontal and seen from above). The entrance to the stairwell is at the right edge of the base of the I. The base itself is a narrow guardroom. The entrance to the privy is directly opposite the stairwell, at the left edge of the base. The body of the I is a central hall, about 10' wide. On either side of the this hallway are the cells, six to a side, accessed by barred doors (making it easy to see inside, from the central hall). The cap of the I is another narrow room with two arrow slits in its exterior wall, facing the city wall. The Four emerge from the stairs into the candlelit guardroom.

In front of them, there's a circular table surrounded by a few chairs, one of currently them occupied. Just across the hallway that passes down the center of the cell block, there's a large, sturdy-looking wardrobe-like piece of furniture against the north wall , and a cot between that and the garderobe in the southeast tower, on the far side of the long, narrow room.

"What's this?" one of the two Bloodforged gaolers demands, clearly surprised by the unexpected delivery. He's already on his feet, cudgel in his fist; a large ring of keys hangs from his broad belt. His partner sets down his pipe and rises from his chair, his hand darting to the hilt of his scabbarded shortsword.

"Who the fuck are you?" the second gaoler demands, his face scrunching with suspicion.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:53, Sun 24 July 2016.

As Nicolai passes the gate, his confidence returns.  He's safe among his fellow soldiers now and the woman who started the riot that claimed his comrades is about to get what's coming to her.  He lets the swell of anticipated vengeance and martial pride carry him through the keep, up the stairs, and into the cell block.

From the gaolers' reactions, he knows the Four have violated protocol somehow, but he's new among the company and overeager.  So he keeps moving, clearing the doorway for his squad leader to manhandle the prisoner through - and, yes, for that irritating but very wealthy nobleman to follow along, too.

"Riot by the harbor," he announces breathessly, using the bandage on his right forearm to wipe away some of the rain-streaked blood from his forehead.  "This bitch was leading it but the sar'nt slapped the fight out of 'er."  His grin stretches wide with relieved tension.  He turns to gesture toward Jenna as she enters the candles' sphere of illumination.  Both Bloodforged's eyes reflexively cut toward the movement...

... Get on them, he sends to/through Corros...

... and the grinning recruit's mask falls away as a knife kisses the second gaoler's throat under his beard.  "Draw and you die.  Yell and you die," Nicolai tells the man in a soft tone, as casual as if he's discussing laundry arrangements.

Figuring that three on two are reasonable enough odds to hold the Bloodforged at bay for at least a few seconds, Corros sheds the rich brat act (such as he imagines it would be) and turns on his heels, spinning in place and pulling the door shut behind the four allies.  Their luck has been substantial so far.  Or maybe it's their planning, but they can't count on it continuing.  That means taking an active role on their position in the fortress.

As soon as the door is shut, he looks for a bar or locking mechanism to snap shut, then turns again ready to unleash some spells on whatever chaos is going on behind him.  If their luck continues, it won't be.  Eventually though, the warlock knows, their luck will turn and the real battle will begin.


Corros
40/40 HP, AC 13
Shutting and locking the cell block door.
Locking down the radiation leak.
Ready to throw spells (eldritch bolt x2 if he still has actions and needs them, +7 to attack, d10+4 damage)
This message was last edited by the player at 00:54, Mon 25 July 2016.

Truth be told, Gronk's kind of been having fun with all the play acting, especially since, up until this point at least, it's all been working so well. That said, the barbarian in him is itching to drop the charade and start kicking some ass.

Summoning up all of the menace he can muster, he growls at the prison guards,

"Stand down, assholes. The Ravens are in charge now."

If the prison guards fail to do so, Gronk is ready, willing, and able to put them down. The guard with the keys will get it first.

Gronk
AC 17 (no shield at present); 65/65HP; 4/4 combat superiority dice
Trying to intimidate the gaolers into surrendering, attacking G1 if they don't

-
This message was last edited by the player at 16:35, Mon 25 July 2016.

The gloved and mailed fist that holds Jenna by the upper arm pushes her forwards into the circle of candlelight. It might be the same hand or it might be another one that grasps a handful of her hair a moment later and jerks her head back so that the fresh bruise that vividly adorns her left cheek can be seen, a testament to her captor’s assertion that she has had the fight slapped out of her. It’s difficult to tell whether it’s raindrops that streak her face or tears.

One of the gaolers smirks. He’s still smirking when Nicolai’s blade caresses his throat. Behind her back Jenna’s hands wriggle, pulling against the iron shackles. It's an action she’s rehearsed several times before they’d left the house, and it works just as she’d practiced it, her right wrist slipping free of the cuff that restrains it.

Around her Corros is already moving for the door. The woman who a moment ago had appeared to be a cowed, defeated captive is now alert, taking a step to the side. Her hammer and shield are in the Bag of Holding but she doesn’t waste time going for them, not yet. They can be recovered after the gaolers have been dealt with. Arma will guide her for now.

So instead she brings up her now free hands, a solitary cuff still around her left wrist, it’s twin dangling down. Her hair is already shimmering, errant strands moving of their own accord as she prepares to unleash Arma’s divine power against the two Bloodforged should they choose not to cooperate.

"You heard my friend. Stand down if you wish to live." Her voice is soft, but menace oozes from the words like venom.

Jenna
HP44 / AC 19
Getting out of shackles and taking up a position where she can hit one of the Bloodforged with a Guiding Bolt (Level 2)

At last, the Four's run of remarkable good luck comes to an end. Gronk's menacing command fails to cow the alert guards. The one with the keys on his belt starts bellowing, "Alarm! Alarm!"

Raellus, on behalf of Gronk, rolled 16 using 1d20+4.  intimidation check w/ adv.
Raellus, on behalf of Gronk, rolled 15 using 1d20+4.

The gaoler with Nic's knife at his throat lunges backwards, trying to bat Nic's dagger arm aside with the back of his fist as he jerks away. The Ardani rogue, however, is too quick, his blade keeping pace with the desperate maneuver, slicing into the guard's neck as he retreats. The bleeding man staggers backwards, one hand darting to the gushing wound, the other still trying to dislodge his short sword from its scabbard (G2 -24HP). He tries to shout, but no sound comes from his ruined throat.

Corros pivots and grabs a hold of the door (it opens inward) to the stairwell, pushing it shut-  louder than he'd intended. He looks for a bolt or chain or bar but the door's only locking mechanism seems to be internal, indicated by a keyhole in a metal plate near its handle. He'll need the key to lock it. Temporarily stymied, the warlock turns back to the developing fray and calls forth a pair of Agonizing Blasts. Two sizzling beams leave his outstretched hand, the first striking down the severely wounded prison guard, finishing what Nic had started (G2 is dead!); the second slams into the guard with the keys on his belt, temporarily silencing his cries (G1 -12HP).

Hands freed from the unlocked shackles, Jenna's casting as well, launching a Guiding Bolt at the head gaoler. It streaks over his left shoulder, blasting a hole in the wardrobe behind her target.

As soon as he can grit past the agony of the warlock's spell, the head gaoler resumes screaming for assistance, his voice rising in pitch as fear takes a hold.

"Alarm! Alarm!"

The nearly-panicked man swings his stout cudgel at the advancing Gronk but the half-orc's stolen armor absorbs both over-hasty blows. Gronk answers with Spike, serving up a crushing counterstrike (Riposte CRIT! G1 -27HP). The gladiator presses the advantage, morning star rising and falling twice more as he looks to quickly finish his opponent. The first blow lands hard (G1 -13HP) but the second just misses the reeling man.

The privy door opens at the far end of the guard room. A startled guard, unarmored, emerges from the garderobe, short sword in hand. He instantly looks like he regrets showing himself.

"Help! Help!" he cries, his voice growing increasingly shrill as he reluctantly advances to assist his hard-pressed boss.

G1 is critically wounded.
G2 is dead.
G3 is uninjured but clearly rather unnerved.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:47, Tue 26 July 2016.

"That was a mistake." Jenna's comments are addressed to the newcomer, her eyes on his as she raises her hand again, her eyes slowly shifting from blue to white. "One that you will regret when ravens pluck out your eyes and feast on them whilst you still live." The Priestess takes a deep breath, holds it for a moment before exhaling, Arma's power flowing through her body, the Warrior's divine grace converging at her fingertips as she launches a second Guiding Bolt at the clearly nervous gaoler.

Jenna
HP44 / AC 19
Attacking G3 with Guiding Bolt (Level 2)

Nicolai shakes his head at the gaolers' unwillingness to surrender in what's clearly a terminal situation, but it doesn't affect his momentum.  Trusting the allies behind him to finish off the head gaoler and acquire his keys, he plunges forward, slipping to the side to clear Jenna's line of fire.

Nicolai
AC 15; HP 45/45; superiority dice 3/4
Move: Into melee with G3
Attack: +1 dagger on G3 (attack +7, damage 1d4+4; if Jenna's Guiding Bolt hits, attack has advantage and +2d6 damage)

There is a ring of keys on the the corpse of the guard.  One of those keys, at least presumably, will lock the door that Corros is currently standing in front of.  It is which key exactly that will lock the door that causes the problem.  Or, how to find that key. And since luck tilted away from their direction, the warlock decides not to start trying keys at random.

With the odds heavily tilting toward the Four (for the moment), Corros turns back to the door and pulls out his lock picks and begins working in reverse to close the lock instead of opening it.

"Don't look," he mutters trying to ignore the battle behind him, "work the lock.  Don't look, work the lock."


Corros
40/40 HP, AC 13
Using lock picks to lock the door.  If successful, will break the pick off inside the lock to jam the mechanism.

Nic dashes around the guardroom table, keeping it between him and the head gaoler's cudgel, and makes for the startled man sallying forth from the privy. As Nic rapidly closes the distance, Jenna launches a second Guiding Bolt at the rogue's quarry- this one hits her target square in the chest, stopping the man's screaming and buckling his knees (G3 -16HP; target now grants advantage to next attack). Nic takes advantage of the gaoler's discomfiture, lunging close to plunge his dagger beneath the man's collarbone (G3 -9HP). The guard staggers back off the blade, groping at the deep wound in his upper torso...

Now fighting purely on instinct, the head gaoler lashes out at Gronk with his cudgel. The half-orc's armor turns the first blow, but the second cracks Gronk across the face (Gronk -7HP), drawing blood. Gronk spits and immediately returns the favor, delivering a skull-crushing overhand blow with his morning star (G1 -11HP; G1 is dead!). Before the key-master has finished hitting the floor, Gronk is off like a 300lb dart, homing in on Nic's grievously-wounded opponent. Spike quickly ends the man's misery, effectively finishing the fight (G3 -10HP; G3 is dead!).

While his companions are taking care of the guards, Corros sets to the lock, trying to activate it with pick and tension rod. He learns quickly that engaging a lock without a key is at least twice as difficult as opening one. As he works, trying to stay calm and focused on the task at hand, he hears the clatter of armored men in the stairwells on the far side of the door, as mercenaries converge on the cell block floor from above and below. The deadbolt slides into place just as someone pushes against the door from the other side. Corros snaps the pick off in the locking mechanism before rejoining his companions (Corros -1 set of thieves tools).

Raellus, on behalf of Corros Graelor, rolled 17 using 1d20+4.  lock picking (dex) check.

"I'll watch the door." Gronk volunteers, handing over Jenna's hammer and shield.

Four of the twelve cells contain lone occupants, presumably either particularly vulnerable or particularly troublesome prisoners. Ex-commandant Kara Overmark is at the bars of the first cell on the left, looking significantly worse for wear than when the Four last saw her, over a month ago. Her face is bruised, left eye swollen shut. Recognizing her saviors despite their disguises, she smiles briefly through split lips.

Another familiar prisoner greets the rescuers from the cell opposite Overmark, grinning behind lank, greasy blond hair. It takes a few seconds to recognize him. Gone are his trademark ringlets and ribbons, his fine, rakish clothes replaced now by simple convict's sackcloth. It's the once promising young corsair captain, Sylky Styg.

The other two lone prisoners are unfamiliar to the four. A bald man, about Nic's age, sits cross-legged on the floor in the middle of his cell, an iron bit strapped between his teeth, lean yet muscular arms pinioned behind his back. He's naked above the waste, body tattooed from wrist to throat with various aquatic motifs. Despite his rather uncomfortable circumstances, the man's face is placid, unconcerned.

The fourth V.I.P. prisoner, watching cautiously, removed from the bars of his cell, is likely Muzz Breakwater. Middle-aged, broad-shouldered, weathered features, bearded, grey-flecked dark hair cropped close, he looks like a working class leader of men.

The other cells house 2-5 prisoners each. Every prisoner must have his or her story, but there's little time to sort unjustly detained townsperson from deserving hardened criminal.

Guards hammer at the locked entrance, yelling for a key or something else to force it open. It won't hold long against a determined assault.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:46, Tue 26 July 2016.

Nice timing, Nicolai sends to Corros as he doubles back to scoop the keyring off the head gaoler's belt.  Aloud, as he begins to work at Overmark's cell, "Good to see you again, Commandant.  Tell me: which of your neighbors need to come out with us?"

"Likewise," Overmark replies, her speech slightly slurred. She points cross-ways, towards a cell halfway down the opposite block. "Breakwater, for starters."

"And the monk. He's given the guards quite a time of it."

Styg breaks in from across the way, "I can fight! You know I can. I ain't got no hard feelin's! I'm a changed man, I am. Just let me out, will ya? I can help."

The other, unnamed prisoners start clamoring for their own respective liberations, creating quite a din.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:32, Tue 26 July 2016.

Nicolai coolly raises an eyebrow as he finds the key to Overmark's cell.  "Your call, Commandant.  You're the agent of local justice here."

If she says "Styg," we'll know they've substituted a doppelganger.  He's not getting out.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:40, Tue 26 July 2016.

"He's been trying to join them. Let him rot." Overmark replies.

Feeling the wind blowing against him, Styg continues to plead his case, "I've got no love for those fuckin' mercs! I was just tryin' to get out of here, same as everybody else. Let me loose- I'll help you! Consider it parole. Come on! Let me earn a pardon. Whattaya got to lose? Pleeease!"

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:10, Wed 27 July 2016.

Gronk keeps himself busy trying to barricade the door. First, he wedges one of the chairs under the handle. Then he starts shifting the large free-standing cabinet across the room, towards the cell block entrance. It's quite heavy. He unlatches the doors and opens them, revealing a small armory- a few swords, battleaxes, and maces.

"Hey, anybody needs a weapon, we got some!" he shouts as he starts tossing the mini-arsenal on the floor. Once he's lightened the cabinet some, he continues hauling it towards the door.

-

With Gronk barricading the door, Corros adds his own personal touch to keeping the mercenaries at bay.  Physical strength isn't his strong point, so to speak, so the warlock reaches out a hand to touch the door, using magic to bind the bits of wood that are already under assault on the far side of the entrance.  It's a delaying game, nothing more, and he knows that he'll have to be far removed from the door once it finally gives way or be facing the very real threat of steel objects assaulting his body.

This isn't going to last long.  Hurry.


Corros
40/40 HP, AC 13
Casting Mending on the door

Reunited with Arma's Blessing and her shield, Jenna pauses a moment to look around at the death that has come to the cell block before stepping up to Styg's cell. The bruise on her face is clearly visible, a vivid purple, as she addresses the pirate. "I'd stand right back against the wall if I were you. Well away from the door. You wouldn't want to get hurt."

Moving away from the pirate captain's cell, to a spot that's a little behind Corros, Jenna's lips move in a prayer to the Goddess, the air around her beginning to shimmer, forms gradually taking shape, figures that flit in and out of view as they swirl around her, ready to defend her and her friends should the Bloodforged break through.

Jenna
Casting Spirit Guardians (Level 3)
Designating everyone in the block except Styg to be unaffected

Between Corros' Mend cantrip and Gronk's improvised barricade, the door to the cell block holds for another several minutes.

During that time, Nicolai frees Overmark, Breakwater, and the Monk. The other prisoners continue to clamor for their freedom, pleas turning to curses as it becomes apparent that they are to be left behind. It's a difficult decision, especially since some of the remaining prisoners certainly deserve their freedom, but Overmark makes the call, arguing that they'll be safer remaining behind bars than in attempting a decidedly risky escape.

Nic removes the grapnel and knotted rope prepared for the privy contingency from the Bag of Holding. Attaching the grapnel to a sturdy surface and making it fast, he removes the stone seat plate (the hole is too small for any but an unusually slim Halfling to pass through) and tosses the rope down the exposed shaft. The smell that greets him is unpleasant, to say the least. Despite the time they Four have spent wading through the city sewers, there's no getting used to the stench.

Overmark helps herself to one of the longswords from the shifted cabinet, testing its weight in her hand. Breakwater picks up an axe. There's a bit of debate between the two as to who will lead the way down the shaft, but Overmark wins the point, sending the Councilman down first. He drops the axe, then begins clambering down the rope, hand-over hand. The monk is next, followed by, at Nic's insistence, by the ex-Commandant (who reluctantly leaves the sword behind).

Beset by hammer and axe, the sturdy, iron-bound oak door finally gives way. Bloodforged push through the gap, but the narrow opening acts as a funnel, only allowing passage to one or two at time. The Four are waiting. Jenna's Spirit Guardians are the first to meet the invaders. The first mercenary through the shattered door seems to shrug off the wispy, luminescent summons' attack (B1 -4 HP) but the second fares worse, writhing in pain as the glowing spirit passes through his body (B2 -18HP).

Lemnish shield up, Gronk presses towards the gap, trying to block the passage by creating a mound of red-armored corpses. He attacks low, taking out the first mercenary's legs, then hammers at the downed opponent with his morning star (B1 -30HP; B1 is now prone, granting advantage). As the first mercenary falls, another (B3) steps through the door, leading with his sword.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:36, Fri 29 July 2016.

When it become obvious that the door is going to give way, Corros skips backwards putting Jenna and Gronk between himself and the pointy things wielded by angry people.  The action makes him wonder for a moment if he is a coward or not, but the moment passes with the acknowledgment that his specialty isn't the whole sword and shield thing.  His specialty comes from figuring out where to put an area effect spell so that is wreaks havoc on the Bloodforged behind the door without blowing the remains of their barricade to itty-bitty pieces.  So that's what he does.


Corros
40/40 HP, AC 13
Casting Shatter on the group of mercenaries behind the door, trying to make sure not to blow the barricade apart in the process.  3rd level slot, 4d8 damage, save for half.

Jenna steps forward as Corros moves back, placing herself between the Warlock and the Bloodforged as they push through the shattered door, raising her right hand as she does so, fingers pointed towards the mercenary who has just joined the fight (B3), calling forth the Warrior's divine grace and unleashing it towards the man in a bolt of radiant energy whilst willing her astral protectors forward to inflict more damage on the Reaver worshippers as they force their way in to the cell block.

Jenna
HP44 / AC 21
Attacking B3 with Guiding Bolt (Level 3)

"Time to go, Commandant," Nicolai pointedly advises Overmark.  He slaps a sheathed dagger into her hand as she relinquishes the more cumbersome sword, then turns back to the fight.  "You."  He raps the knuckles of a pleading prisoner to get the man's attention, then drops the keyring into the grimy outstretched hand.  "I don't have time to fumble-fuck with any more locks.  You fumble-fuck while we fight."

He steps around Corros and gauges the knot at the door.  There's room for another friendly fighter, but Jenna is already heading in that direction - and is better-armored by a fair margin.  That doesn't mean there's no room for the Ardani to work, though.  He flips a throwing knife into his hand, gauges the angle, and lets fly at the man illuminated by Jenna's war-prayer.

Corros, tell Jenna and Gronk we'll fall back when Jenna calls it.  You're first out, I'm last.

Nicolai
AC 15; HP 45/45; superiority dice 3/4
Move: Handing off the keys
Attack: Dart on B3:  attack +6 w/ advantage, damage 1d4+2d6+3

The cell block shakes as Corros' Shatter spell explodes in the cramped staircase beyond the door, blasting splinters of door off its hinges. Curses and moans replace the fading echo of the magical thunderclap (B3 -6HP, B4 -19HP, B5- 14HP, B6 -9HP). Wooden door fragments, a fallen chair, and the upended cabinet create a speedbump of sorts (rough terrain) just inside the doorway.

"They've got a wizard!" one of the mercs on the landing shouts, an edge of panic to his voice.

"Get the Bloodmage!" another shouts, more resolute.

Jenna tags the next merc who steps over the debris just inside the threshold of the door with a Guiding Bolt, slowing his roll and highlighting the man, literally, for her next companion to attack (B3- 13HP; B3 grants advantage to next attack).

Nic accepts the invitation, hurling a throwing knife at the faintly glowing mercenary. The dagger imbeds itself, quivering, in a fragment of the cell block door a hands-breadth from the man's head. The mercenary steps over the fallen cabinet and into the ephemeral arms of the Armist cleric's Spirit Guardians. He stops momentarily, and cries out in pain, before doggedly resuming his advance (B3 -15HP). His two companions already in the room continue to be tormented by the angelic figures as well (B1 -8HP, B2-14HP).

The second nearest mercenary plants his feet alongside his tripped companion, now scrambling to his feet, and swings at the half-orc playing at being a living barricade. Gronk turns both attacks with his shield and counters, smiting the man in the chest with his morning star (Riposte: B2 -15HP). The man he'd tripped earlier gets back to his feet and lashes out at the half-orc as well, as does the third Redcloak through the door, but the gladiator's stolen splint mail and enchanted Lemnish shield take all of the punishment, leaving Gronk a little bruised but otherwise unscathed.

While the Four hold off the Bloodforged storm troopers, the remaining prisoners- those willing to risk it, at least- are releasing themselves, passing the cell keys around, and making their way, pushing and shoving, to the privy.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:46, Sat 30 July 2016.

Gronk continues to press towards the open doorway, swinging Spike as he advances, trying to put down a Redcloak or two for keeps this time.

"We've gotta block the door, or slow these fucks down somehow!" he shouts, knowing that retreat in the face of an attacking enemy is one of the most dangerous battlefield maneuvers. His mind wanders briefly to the departed dwarf druid's Entanglement spell, and he curses Ulfgar's absence, letting the bitter memory of his sudden departure fuel the rage building inside.

Gronk
AC 20; HP 58/65
2/4 Combat Superiority dice
2x enraged melee attacks v B1 (and B2 if B1 is killed)

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:30, Sat 30 July 2016.

A Priestess of Arma fights until victory is achieved or she dies trying.

For a moment Jenna is no longer in the Guardroom. She is in the Cloisters, a child, one who has barely reached her teens. She is bruised, blooded, her white tunic stained crimson. Her weapon is a wooden hammer. And she can hear the voice of the elder Priest who is training her in the arts of battle as he repeats the dogma of the Church constantly, making her recite it after him.

A Priestess of Arma is expected to devote herself fully to the Goddess

She blinks, and the Cloisters are replaced by the cell block. She is aware of movement all around her, of imprisoned wretches freeing themselves from their shackles, of dust falling from the ceiling, landing in her wet hair. She can hear the Bloodforged call for reinforcements, including a Sorcerer of their own, hears too Gronk call out that they need to be delayed.

A Priestess of Arma fights until victory is achieved or she dies trying.

Before she had met the others Jenna had failed the Warrior. But the Goddess had not forsaken her, rather She had told her that she would find redemption in the company of strangers. She had found those strangers, yet still sought that redemption.

Three mercenaries are within the cell block, more doubtless outside trying to push their way in, yet more being summoned, including a mage. Jenna takes a deep breath. Perhaps this was the day that she found redemption. There's an irony of sorts, one that isn't lost on her, for she had never hidden her distrust of Overmark. But the Commandant had to get away, be the figurehead that Balefyre needed. "Go! I will hold them! Get out! All of you! Now!"

It was logical. Someone had to hold the line whilst the others made their escape. And a Priestess of Arma fights until victory is achieved. She does not dwell on the second part of that statement, instead throws an anguished look at Corros, holds his gaze for a moment.

And then Jenna lunges forward, her Spirit Guardians flitting around her as a wild roar tumbles from her lips, her eyes turning to pure obsidian with a single blink as she seeks to form an armoured plug for the hole that is the door, Arma's Blessing lashing out towards the nearest Bloodforged, calling out as she does so. "Who wants to be next to die?"

Jenna
HP44 / AC 21
Attacking B3 with Warhammer (1d8+3)
War Priest (1/4) for bonus attack

Oh, by Aero's salty balls...  Nicolai retrieves his own shield and rapier - the latter with a tight smirk toward Styg - from the Bag of Holding, then shoves the voluminous container along the floor toward Corros.  His eyes narrow as he sketches a mental picture of his intentions across the witchling's mind-link: Jenna and Gronk moving back, step by step, side by side, in a deliberate slow withdrawal toward the escape route.

"You can't be last out, Jenna," he hisses as he steps up behind the impromptu shieldwall.  "Corros and I can't drag you or Gronk if you fall and I'll need you to heal my broken legs when I come down with the rope."

Nicolai
AC 17; HP 45/45; superiority dice 3/4
Getting fully geared and moving into the fight
If able, stabbitty stab on any available mercenary

Corros can practically taste the anguish coming off of Jenna as she makes her decision, the struggles of the last several weeks becoming crystalline in her mind.  He guesses that his lover has opted to cease her struggles inside the teachings of her faith.  When her eyes flash to black, hope starts to leave him.

Everyone leaves you Corros.  Everyone.

The thought paralyzes him, pain ripping across his mind with memories: the rejection of his grandparents, pushing him away as a reminder of his unknown father. His mother going missing while others mocked him for believing that she could be alive, even as he understood she would never return.  Street kids mocking him, leaving when he couldn't keep up or when they had taken everything he had to give then spit on him.  Only The Library was constant, if insane.

Nic's plan moves through his mind and Corros doesn't care.  Not at first.

Please Jenna, Corros floods the channel, heedless of the minds of Gronk and Nic in the link, fear and something like the beginning of a type of love pushing through.  I need you.  Not like this.  Don't throw yourself away like this.  We can live.  We can.  All of us.  He's crying.  He knows he is.  Form the line like Nic wants. Please.  We fight together.  Together, live or die.

The warlock steps into the open door of Overmark's cell and pull himself up so he can see over the heads of his companions, releases a blast of magical energy towards any of the Bloodforged he can see.

Corros
40/40 HP, AC 13
Pleading
Casting Eldrtich Bolt x2, +7 to hit, 1d10+4 each at the next guy through the door.

Nicolai's words fall on deaf ears. She's aware of the Rogue talking, but it's only Corros' voice that Jenna can hear. She can feel his pain cutting through her. It's mirrored by her own, an anguish that is unlike anything that she can recall having experienced before. She can taste her own tears running down her cheeks as she steps back after lashing out at the nearest Bloodforged, trying to form the line with Gronk that she can see in her head.

Gronk bashes away at the remarkably resilient Bloodforged point man, doing additional damage but failing to finish him (B1 -13HP).

Nic has better luck with rapier than he did with throwing knife. Expertly wielded, Touch of Sylk's long, slim blade darts in on the blindside of the mercenary walking slack, catching him unawares. A spray of blood shoots sideways at Nic as the rogue swiftly withdraws the rapier from his victim's neck. Pulsing progressively weakening spurts of blood from the small but deep wound in his neck, the merc falls limp atop the damaged cabinet (B2 -15HP: B2 is dead!).

Jenna flails at the third Redcloak with her blessed hammer, but her inner struggle impedes her aim and the mercenary turns away both blows with his sword. Fortunately, the priestess' Spirit Guardians continue to work for her, scourging her target with their divine radiance (B3 -13HP).

Corros' potent cantrip kills one Redcloak outright (B1 -10: B1 is dead!) and injures another (B3 -9HP).

There's a press near the doorway, but, witnessing two of their three comrades killed in front of them seems to give them pause. There's a moment of hesitation as the mercenaries weigh their options.

"Keep at them! He's coming!" a voice shouts from the stairwell, and two of the reluctant mercenaries (B4 & B5) enter the breach.

Behind the Four, more bold prisoners make their escape, clambering down the knotted rope into the bowels of the keep.

B3 is nearly dead.
B4 & B5 were both wounded by Corros' earlier Shatter spell.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:51, Sat 30 July 2016.

"Forget it, sister! We ain't leavin' nobody behind!"

Gronk squares up to the next mercenary through the door, swinging low again, trying to sweep the man's legs.

"Fire!" he shouts, mostly at Corros, not trusting to telepathy. "Set the wood on fire!"

Surely the warlock has some spell that can ignite the wooden debris just inside the doorway. A burning barricade might give the Four enough time and space to make their getaway.


Gronk
AC 20; HP 58/65 (dam resistance while enraged)
2/4 Superiority Dice
Trip attack v B5, granting advantage if successful; weapon attack v B5, Action Surge attack v B5

-

Nicolai slots into place at Gronk's side and lashes out with his shield at the next man through the door.  It's not a serious attack, but the bulk of the shield fills the mercenary's field of view for a critical second.  The Ardani pivots toward another adversary and thrusts with his rapier.  "Bring the Bloodmage," he bellows, "the ravens are hungry!"

Nicolai
AC 17; HP 45/45; superiority dice 3/4
Bonus: Help (granting advantage) to Gronk's next attack
Attack: +1 rapier on B3 (attack +7, damage 1d8+2d6+4 with flanking)

"Fire.  Yes.  Fire."  With Jenna moving in the lines, Corros has some semblance of control of his emotions coming back. Gronk's plan makes some sense.  The more obstacles the better their chances for survival, even with the mage coming.  Corros has one hole card left, but he only get's to play it once and his magical energies will be done.  Hopefully his friends will be in range of the privy when it comes.

Corros
40/40 HP, AC 13
Casting Fire Bolt x2 at the debris near the door, +7 to attack, d10 fire damage.
If the Bloodmage arrives, will defend against offensive magic with Counterspell as reaction, 3rd level slot

Jenna tries to push the emotions out of her mind, tries to concentrate on the ongoing battle. She needs to keep her focus. There would be time to reflect on the last few moments afterwards. First they had to survive, had to make their escape. All of them.

The Priestess tries to take position on the opposite side to Gronk from Nicolai, so that both of them are flanking the half orc, her shield raised defensively, letting the Bloodforged see the sigil of Arma emblazoned on it, her other hand raised, eyes flicking between black and white as she opts to channel the Goddess' power rather than swing her hammer. Her fingers dance as she calls on Holy Fire to rain down on one of the mercenaries, hoping that the flames may augment those that Corros has summoned.

Jenna
HP44 / AC 21
Casting Sacred Flame cantrip on B5 (2d8 damage)

With shield and sword, respectively, Nic distracts one mercenary (B5), and kills another (B3 -14HP; B3 is dead!). Gronk takes advantage of his ally's clever work to smash the legs out from under another Redcloak. The rage-fueled pit fighter then brings his morning star down on the nearly defenseless supine mercenary, adding considerably to his woe (B5- 35HP). Fighting now for survival, the badly-wounded man manages to roll out of the way of a third, potential killing blow from the half-orc. He also rolls out of the way of Jenna's Sacred Flame spell, which alights upon one of the unhinged cabinet doors instead, igniting it. The Redcloak's brief run of luck doesn't hold for long- he can't escape Jenna's whirling wall of Spirit Guardians, their blistering radiance snuffing out the remainder of his life. (B5 -10HP; B5 is dead).

Two gouts of flame erupt from Corros' outstretched fingers, adding to the growing conflagration. What used to be, up until a couple of minutes ago, a door and pieces of wooden furniture is now a raging bonfire. Waste-high flames occasionally leap up to kiss the lintel of the doorway, creating an effective barrier between the Four and the mercenaries assembling for a renewed assault in the stairwell beyond. A fire this fierce won't burn long, however.

Only one mercenary remains on the Four's side of the fire. A Spirit Guardian brushes by, singing him with its dire radiance (B4 -4HP). Flames at his back, and four seemingly invincible foes before him, the lone survivor fights with almost feral desperation, swinging his mace wildly at the biggest target he sees. The first blow clips Gronk's armored thigh, eliciting a grunt of pain from the rage-gladiator. The second attack buzzes through the air within a hair's breadth of the half-orc's crooked nose. Gronk skillfully counters, killing the man with a forehand strike to the side of the head (B4 -20HP; B4 is dead!).

Looking across the guardroom, the Four see the top of Sylky Styg's greasy-haired head disappear into the shitter. All of the other prisoners doughty enough to attempt the four-story climb down the vertical privy shaft have done so, leaving the escape route open for their rescuers. If they're going to get away, they realize, this is the time to try.

"Go!" Gronk shouts at his friends, reassuring them that he'll be right behind them. As the first of the Four takes the rope and begins the long, dark, foul-smelling descent, the half-orc picks up the guard's cot and tosses it, frame, mattress, and bedding, atop the burning barricade, buying, he hopes, a little more time for his companions and him to complete their great escape.

Shim, lantern in hand, and two of his companions are waiting at the base of the shaft, along with Overmark, Breakwater, the strange monk, and three other escapees. Styg and three others, convicted criminals all, haven't stuck around. About a dozen prisoners decided not to take the risk, and have elected to remain incarcerated.

The main tunnel is loud with the sound of falling water, rain from above washing down the storm drains to splash into the effluent below. Shim leads the party through the warren of brick-lined sewer system, back to a sewer exit just a half-block away from the Vander safe-house.

Congrats! You have achieved 7th level!


Your Turn.

-

Nicolai stands in the middle of the street and tilts his head back, letting the rain rinse away the outer layer of blood and filth.  "Corros," he says tonelessly without bothering to check if the witchling is within earshot, "we're doing this too often.  You should research a magic bath spell."

He rolls his head around, feeling a couple of vertebrae pop, then shakes himself.  "Well, then," he murmurs to Overmark through a grim smile, "welcome to our master plan for returning Balefyre to legitimate governance."

He flips a small but heavy leather sack out from under his cloak and tosses it underhand to Shim.  "For your navigation services," he grins, tilting his head toward the cutpurse.  "Commandant, I hope you'll remember this when we're all back to business as usual."

"Now let's get off the street and talk about our next move.  And tea."

OOC: -100 party gold to Shim (I believe we already paid him 200 in advance).
This message was last edited by the player at 01:00, Mon 01 Aug 2016.

Jenna stands for a long moment, her head back and her eyes closed, feeling the rain on her face, washing away some of the coating of filth that clings to her skin. When her eyes do open they’re back to their normal shade of blue as the emotions of the last few minutes in the Keep ripple through her, the frantic battle against the Bloodforged, their escape down the privy shaft, most of them without a scratch, Jenna’s only injury the bruised cheek suffered when Nicolai punched her.

She wants to go her lover, wants to feel his arms around her, but this was not the time, nor the place, not in front of so many people. There would be a time afterwards. ”A bath sounds good. I'm starting to feel as though we live in the sewers” she says, partly in response to Nicolai’s comment, but it’s Corros that those blue eyes seek out for a moment before she nods her agreement with Nicolai’s suggestion to get off the streets at the same time as she unfastens the manacle that still hangs around her left wrist. ”We may as well keep a hold of these.” she says as she tosses the shackles to Gronk so that the half orc can put them in the Bag of Holding.

"Thanks," Gronk replies, snagging the shackles out of the air and stowing them in the Bag of Holding. He looks around at the buildings hemming in the street, squinting against the rain. "I sure hope no one's seen us."

-
This message was last edited by the player at 04:59, Wed 03 Aug 2016.

The Four, scrubbed clean and wearing fresh, dry clothes, sit around the fireplace in Vander's modest but comfortably-appointed midtown apartment, sipping hot tea and enjoying the dry warmth of the crackling fire (Short Rest completed). The secret love nest, intended as an overnight abode for two or three at most, is now temporary home to almost quadruple that number. The Four are joined by former commander of the Fire Watch, Kara Overmark and Muzz Breakwater, head of the Fisherman's Alliance and deposed member of the Fire Council. In another room sit six of the other escapees, including the tattooed monk, imprisoned by the Bloodforged for various trumped up charges, but not [yet] part of the growing conspiracy. Jurvis and Lenore rotate standing guard over the four Redcloak prisoners captured earlier that night. Shim has taken his leave of the party to check in with the rest of the Drowned Rats, several of whom were involved in the diversionary attack on the guard house in the Harbor Ward. Dawn is a couple of hours away. The heavy rain has given way again to a light drizzle.

Muzz Breakwater addresses the company, "Thank you, again. I am in your debt. Whatever I can do to repay the favor, if it is my power, I will do it. You have my word."

Overmark holds a wet compress to her swollen eye socket. "Zardis will act fast to reestablish his authority. We need to beat him to the punch."


Your Turn.

Nicolai leans back in his chair and stares at the ceiling as he listens to Breakwater's recounting of the last month's events.  His expression is the slightly vacant one that says to casual acquintances, "I have very few thoughts in my head."  To his companions of the past weeks, it says, "I have too many thoughts in my head, many of them bad."

When Breakwater finishes his tale and his tea, Nicolai lets silence reign for perhaps a minute.  Finally, his chair creaks as he leans forward.  "Thank you for that report, Councilor.  That clears up several aspects of the situation that our other sources were unclear on."  He leaves the identities of those sources deliberately vague.

"Kreyg is out for both face and money.  To get him to leave, we either need to give him an easier source of those from somewhere else..."  He pauses and looks around the room, as if searching for a hidden sack of gold and respect.  When none is forthcoming, he spreads his hands and continues, "or we need to put him in a situation where it looks like he's about to lose everything, then show him a way out that he'll grasp to escape total ruin.  Or we can ruin him, but that will be expensive."

He gestures toward Overmark.  "Commandant.  We've cost him at least eight men tonight, either dead or captured, not counting any casualties he's taken from the riot at the port.  Moreover, we just raided his headquarters with no losses of our own and cleaned out the dungeon - by the way, you'll want to look at that security problem once you're back in your office - which is an even greater loss of face.  Based on the tactics we've seen so far, you're right - his response is predictable.

"More troops on the streets means fewer for other details.  He won't reduce the guard contingent at the keep, so he'll have to pull those personnel from elsewhere.  He can only stretch his reserves so far, and he doesn't dare push his men to breaking.  They're his capital.  So he'll thin out the detachments that don't support his immediate goals.  Including," he nods at Corros, "the security forces on the delegations that are bidding for the city.

"We'll need to handle this with some precision.  Dead diplomats are a casus belli.  On the other hand, expelled diplomats are a different kind of message entirely."

"Councilman Breakwater.  If we can deliver those delegations to the docks, can you find ships and crew to see them home?"

Naturally Jenna had taken a seat next to Corros, the cramped surroundings of the overcrowded room putting her in close proximity to the Warlock. As Nicolai conversed with the rescued Councilman and Guard Commander the blonde haired Priestess let her mind drift back to the fight in guard room, memories of how she had hurled herself at the Bloodforged still swirling in her mind, threatening to overwhelm her thoughts.

It had been the same when they had been ambushed by the creatures outside the underground city. Although then their struggles had been largely individual ones, each of them fighting their own battle against the insectoid things, Jenna could recall being surrounded by them, feeling their blades slice into her, causing her to shed her blood for the Warrior. She had thought that she was going to die that day, had thought the same again when she had rushed at the Bloodforged, the rational part of her mind swamped by an anger, the desire to fight. To kill. Was that what the Goddess wanted? Or was it what Jenna Drax wanted? Would Arma have approved of the way that she had mounted the dead insectoid’s head on a spear, as...as what? A warning to its comrades not to cross her and her companions? Or a macabre trophy?

And what else might Jenna want that the Warrior might not approve of? Her leg, already close to Corros’, moves closer still, the contact distinct through their clothing. Thoughts had spilled out during the battle at the Keep, unguarded ones, his and hers, peeling back the curtain on their secret. If it had been a secret, for whilst she wasn't sure if Gronk would have noticed, she doubted that there was much that truly escaped the attention of Nicolai Romanelli. Or the Goddess. What did he think? And what did She think?

Jenna shivers slightly, shifts in her seat, causing a fresh contact with Corros as her eyes flick to Breakwater in anticipation his reply. Once the conversation has moved on she will cough softly. ”We should release our prisoners as well. Tell them to tell their comrades that the Ravens are coming for all of them then release them somewhere bound and hooded and wearing nothing but sackcloth. Show the City that the Bloodforged are not invincible. Make them a source of laughter, derision. It saves us guarding them. And the hoods mean that all they will have seen are the four of us. And we are probably already marked after what happened tonight.” There’s a reminder in her words that if they don’t already the Bloodforged will likely soon know who they are.

"Our profile has been a bit higher than I'd like," Nicolai admits.  "We probably could be reasonably anonymous alone but the fi- four of us together," he scowls at the misstep, "are rather recognizable.  Once we cut those prisoners loose, we can't go back to Bálint House until this is ended.  Someone will talk for the right price or the right pressure.  We should clear our gear out of there tonight - and find a safe place for Lenore and Jurvis, too."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:54, Thu 11 Aug 2016.

”Could we not arrange an unwelcome surprise at the house then let slip its location ourselves?” Jenna turns her head slightly, looks at the Warlock she is sat next to. ”Corros, have you sorcery that spark an inferno? One that would engulf anyone entering the house? That might further reduce the enemy’s number and morale.”

The Priestess shifts her attention to Overmark.  ”Such might mean the destruction of the home that the Council so kindly gave to us in lieu of proper payment owed, but ends justify means and I trust the Council will see fit to make appropriate retribution should our endeavours ultimately prove successful.” Jenna hasn’t quite forgotten how the Fire Council has treated them in the past.

Corros sits and listens, relishing the touch of Jenna, simple as it is and tries not to think to hard about what almost happened in the cell block.  Almost is such a bad concept, and as the unthinkable didn't happen, it doesn't help to dwell on it.  It could drive a half-elf crazy.  Especially if he chases the thought with questions about why the priestess seems so willing, almost eager, to throw herself on swords every time things get dicey.

He shakes his head at Jenna's question. "I don't have access to that kind of magic.  A little bit of flame, no problem, yeah?  An inferno? We'd be looking at alchemists for that."  Corros considers a joke about how he's good at starting some fires, but decides at the last second that maybe Jenna wouldn't appreciate it.

The warlock shakes his head and rolls his shoulders, trying to come up with a plan.  "The longer we sit, the more established they get, even if the Bloodforged are tearing the city apart.  I've been here before, watching a city start to tilt, and once it get's going, it's going to be very hard to stop.  We need to control the momentum as long as we can.  Right now, we are doing what Zardis will expect, hiding and letting him look for us.  I agree with Jenna about the prisoners.  There's no advantage to keeping them, and I'm not bloodthirsty enough to send them to their gods.  Let them be a symbol of vulnerability.  But we need to hit them again before sun up.  To prove that we can, even if it's just symbolic."

Corros finally turns to Overmark.  "Commander, what can you tell us about your former cell mates?  What can they do to help?  I'm guessing the Bloodforged had them there for a reason.  Except Styg, anyway, who is probably trying to sell us out as we speak."

The grizzled fisherman ponders the question for a few seconds, before responding, "Yes, we can get them out of the city. In a fishing boat, we could deliver them a few leagues in either direction along the coast. We'd need a merchantman to get them all the way home, though."

"What about the galleys?" Overmark asks. "Jet Spear and Sailfish?"

"Well, yes. We could use those. I think I could supply enough men to sail at least one of them." Breakwater replies.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:56, Sat 20 Aug 2016.

Day 10 of the Occupation

Day breaks, cold and grey over Balefyre. The rain has stopped, but the red dawn promises more to come.

Full Rest completed.

The party, including its new guests, dines on a simple cold breakfast. Shortly thereafter, Lenore and Jurvis leave the safehouse to gather the rest of the Four's baggage from Balint House, now deemed unsafe in anticipation of an anticipated Bloodforged crackdown.

They return about two hours later, both looking rather perturbed.

"Where to start?" Lenore begins. "Someone broke into Balint House, poked around a bit. They didn't leave a mess, but I recognized the signs. I couldn't tell if they took anything, but someone was looking for something." She holds up the Bag of Holding. "I got the rest of your stuff. You should look through it, see if anything's missing."

Lenore nods at Jurvis and former watchman commences his own report, "Good news and bad news. It looks like the albino thinks the prison break was an inside job. He's clapped the two dozen Firewatch that he kept on in chains, including that traitorous bastard, D'Kord. That's the good news, I suppose. The bad news is that he's shut down all the city's meeting places- taverns, guild houses, even the Pit; put 'em under guard. And that's not all. He's taken hostages- five citizens for every Bloodforged killed or wounded last night- about sixty people, all told. Word is, he's gonna kill half of 'em as reprisal, hold on to the rest as insurance. I think he means to send a message, maybe sweat out the Commandant. And there's Redcloaks all over the streets, this morning. We barely made it back. It's not lookin' good."


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:58, Sat 20 Aug 2016.

"Hm."  Nicolai accepts Lenore's report and the Bag of Holding with a bland acknowledgement.  "I'm not surprised.  We're not public figures on the Commandant's level but we're recognizable enough.  Especially as a group."

He sets the knapsack on a table.  "We'll take inventory.  You weren't followed, and you checked to see if any sort of ritual link had been added."  It's inflected as a statement, meant to reassure the rest of the assemblage of the quality of Lenore's tradecraft.  The woman tilts her head in acknowledgement of both the accuracy of his observation and the reason he's voiced it aloud.

"The hostages are an escalation I didn't expect this early," he admits as Jurvis winds down.  "The question is whether they're actually going to be killed or whether they're bait."

He whistles a brief sliding melody while, under the table, he twists the bronze ring on his right hand.  There's a rush of wings outside the window and two ravens alight on the sill.  Nicolai tosses them a couple of scraps of breakfast.  "Sixty people, guarded by Redcloaks.  Find them.  Count the guards," he says to the birds in the liquid tones of Primordial.  It's a wholly unnecessary piece of theatrics - the real communication with the corvids is through the ring's magic, not speech in any particular tongue - but he's loath to reveal this trick's actual source.

"Regardless, I don't think we can let this stand," he resumes as the ravens chuckle and take flight.  The truth is that he's perfectly willing to call Kreyg's bluff - and let the city erupt if the captain does begin executing prisoners - but that probably won't play well for any sort of long-term influence.  "If we can work loose a thread from the delegations, that's still a good play, but this is our new focus..."

"If he's done his research," Corros says regarding the hostages, "they're bait.  Someone has filled him in enough to know that we're not going to sit back and let him execute innocent people.  Whether or not he's going to do it almost doesn't matter.  Of course we're going to try and stop it.  The question is where are they, and how are we going to do it."  It's tempting to add a piece of a little piece about how the nobles in Silverleaf would have done it, separating the hostages into two groups, one to murder, one to hold in reserve, and not deciding which until the last second, killing the group that proved the most vulnerable.  The Eleventh Finger, it turned out, made the same decision regarding his own hostages.  That would be uncomfortably close to admitting his role in watching a city burn, and he's not quite ready to make that admission.  Not yet.

"To tell the truth," he continues, "I'm wondering if we aren't better making a statement first, that we release our prisoners and that we can hit them before they can hit us.  I can get us in to a difficult place, or at least me and someone else.  Somewhere we're not supposed to be.  Or somewhere we're not expected to be."

"Where, at this moment, would it be most helpful for Commander Overmark to be, to fan the flames of resistance? And show just how bad at this the Bloodforged are going to be?"

Gronk listens intently, aware the whole time that plotting and scheming is not his forte. His companions, however, take to intrigue like fish to water. He's happy that he's fallen in with such smart people. An idea does occur to him- rather, he remembers something that Lenore said earlier, before the prison break.

"What if we had hostages of our own? The foreigners, I mean. Lenore said, without them, Zardis is fucked."

-

It doesn't take long for the head raven to return. Apparently, the hostages weren't hard to find. The others hear only sharp squawks and throaty chortles. Nic hears,

"A huddle of men, women, and children, out in the open in the keep yard. Twenty Redcloaks in the yard. Twenty more, at least, on the walls. Ten at the gate."

The rest of the conspiracy (of ravens) trickles in to report on the location of other Bloodforged detachments throughout the city. (OOC: These are indicated in red next to the relevant locales in the Gazeteer. Bloodforged detachments within the same ward should be considered, to some degree, mutually supporting. Reaction time will vary.)

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:19, Sat 27 Aug 2016.

"Four against fifty are formidable odds" Jenna says quietly when the ravens' speech is deciphered. Clearly they could not stand by idly when innocents were threatened, particularly as the reason those innocents were in danger was a direct result of their actions, but trying to take on a force more than ten times their number in open battle was unlikely to serve any purpose other than perhaps getting them all killed or captured. As a Priestess of Arma Jenna was prepared for the fact that she might have to sacrifice her life for the Goddess - acutely aware of it after their last visit to the Keep - but the Warrior would not wish that sacrifice to be in vain.

Your idea has merit." The slim blonde says, turning towards Gronk. "But even if we succeed in securing hostages of our own, we know not whether the albino will abide by any terms that are agreed. On the contrary, I think double crossing us would be second nature to him. And then there is the problem of what to do if he calls our hand? He may be prepared to put his hostages to the sword. Are we?" It was a rhetorical question of course.

"He's trying to get us to freeze or do something heroic," Corros says.  "If you change rash into heroic.  Does he want an audience?  A statement?  Look, according to our raven friends, there are twelve Bloodforged holding the river ward.  Twelve.  Surely we can deal with twelve soldiers, yeah?  Especially as they are in two groups, and then we have the poorest citizens of Balefyre, the meanest drunks who have been held back from their beer, able to make trouble.  We start to stir the city, the Albino is going to have bigger problems than hostages."


Of course, so might we.  The first stone would fall and then where would they be?

"From there we pick another target, another group, isolated, protecting something the citizens want, and pick that group off.  Then another."

Jenna shifts slightly in her seat. "We can likely deal with twelve of them, yes. If the Commandant can rally the former Fire Watch who were dismissed to her cause we can likely deal with others at the same time, the half dozen in one or other of the bars. But what if the albino then makes good on his threat and puts some of his hostages to the sword? Or all of them and then his men seize some more?"

The Priestess looks uncomfortable at openly disagreeing with her lover. But it is one of the tenets of her faith that a Priestess of Arma defends the weak and protects the innocent. Of course, it is also a tenet of her faith that she should devote herself fully to Arma. Once again she can feel the struggle within her, between her faith and her feelings for Corros. Jenna is scared, scared that one day that struggle will become an open conflict.

Corros nods at Jenna.  He can hear the tension in her words and it echoes a little through him as well.  Not as much at her words, he can live with the disagreement, but at fear that she might want to rush the hostage takers.

We won't abandon the hostages, he sends silently to Jenna, committed to that promise.  Honestly, he would really rather be back in a bed with her than plotting a rescue, but he imagines she would be rather distracted with the imminent doom of the innocent.

"Do we know who the hostages are?  People off the street?  Members of powerful families?"  Corros waits then starts again.  "The reason I ask is, if the river ward turns and they are from the wealthy, it does the albino no good in killing them.  It makes him look weak.  At that point he needs them alive for protection."  Corros pauses again and swallows.

"Unless he's a bloodthirsty monster who would kill them because he feels like it.  If that's the case we better start looking at options for getting into the keep twice in one day."

As his corvine accomplices report their findings, Nicolai digs a scrap of charcoal out of the fireplace's perimeter, clears the table, and sketches a map of the city - and the occupiers' dispositions - upon the wood.  "Twenty men covering the bidding delegations at the Mermaid's Tale.  That's enough for a full security detail.  Commander, sergeant, three shifts of six each.  One on duty, the second off duty but probably on standby for trouble, the third sleeping."  He rubs his chin.  "Add in the delegations themselves and every room is packed.  So the regulars have been run out of the place.  Vulnerabilities: food, privy... and some of the troops are probably going out for women when they're off duty.  I doubt the delegations want that going on in the next room."

He taps the sigil he's sketched to represent the locus of Balefyre's underworld.  "Another twenty in the Pit.  They're locking down Toesplitter's business.  We can't do anything about that.  Too much noise.

"Small groups in other places.  Those show us what's important to him.  Sleeping quarters - there's not enough room in the keep, so he's putting his troops in the inns and brothels.  Probably not paying rack rate for that.  And he's putting squads on the key commercial buildings.  The corporals and sergeants there are going to be the smart and literate ones."

He leans back and studies the map.  "Let's take a third of his remaining men off the board and see what he still thinks is important to protect.  We know where they're sleeping and eating.  I suspect Bojidar knows several formulae to induce the galloping shits.  For that matter, if we spread a different ailment at each inn over a couple of days, it won't immediately look like alchemic warfare.

"I'll admit I'm at a loss as to how to deal with the hostages.  I have an idea but it's still murky..."

A half-orc with an uncontrollable case of the giggles is not something that one sees but once in a lifetime, if ever. Gronk tries to stifle his laughter but that only makes it worse. Every time he catches his breath, the thought picture of mercs shitting themselves uncontrollably sets him off again. It's some time before he regains his composure,

Wiping tears from his eyes, he apologizes to his companions.

"I'm sorry... I just... the Redcloaks...covered... in their own shit!" and then a fresh wave of histerical laughter overcomes him again.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 00:42, Tue 30 Aug 2016.

Lenore clarifies some of her earlier intelligence. "Far as we can tell, most of the hostages were taken in the Gate Ward, from homes and shops around the keep."

-

The normally all-business Commandant can't help but flash a brief smile at the burly gladiator's unbridled mirth.

"Yes, well... there's some danger to an overly complicated plan- too many moving parts. But, perhaps there's a place for everything suggested so far. The Bloodforged garrison is scattered about the city. Detachments can be isolated and defeated in detail."

Overmark looks questioningly at Jurvis. The big watchman responded with a resolute nod.

"We- the true Fire Watch- can help with that."

She turns her grey eyes to Breakwater. The fisherman cocks his head and responds with a half-shrug.

"The League might be able to tackle one of the smaller groups, at least tie them down for a while."

Overmark nods approvingly, then continues, "Romanelli's alchemist friend could help us indispose at least some of the other mercenaries, if it can be arranged. That leaves the matter of the hostages. I'm not willing to write them off as casualties of war- not when my escape put them in harm's way in the first place. Something must be done to remove them from danger. There's merit to Gronk's suggestion. If we held the delegates, we'd arguably have the greater leverage. Without them, Kreyg's plan to sell the city to the highest bidder falls apart. But they are well guarded, and the harbor ward is apparently crawling with Redcloaks."

Overmark makes eye contact with Corros. "You said something about getting into a difficult place. I assume you meant magically? Could you get inside the Mermaid's Tale and get back out with one of the emissaries?"

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:59, Tue 30 Aug 2016.

"Yes," Corros says slowly in answer to Overmark's question.  The warlock doesn't turn his head, doesn't look at Jenna, afraid of what he'd see in her eyes.  He's not exactly built for kidnapping.  "We'd have to know precisely, I mean exactly, which room the emissary was in, yeah?  I could step through a door, grab the guy and step back.  Hopefully he's asleep.  That'd make it a lot easier."

Corros strokes his chin while he thinks about it.  "It would certainly help keep the albino on his toes.  The plan has that going for it.  Especially if the loyal Firewatch start messing up the odds."

Jenna has been listening to the conversation as it unfolds, her head now turning in Corros' direction, noting that he is looking away from her. "Just a moment, Corros. How exactly does this work? You said you could get two people into a place. You and someone else. How many can you get out? Two as well?" The Priestess rises from her chair, walks around his, to face him, so that he cannot look away, at least not without making it obvious that is what he is doing.

"You are not going alone." That was said as statement, not question. But the question it did beg was that if two went in, how many could come back out again?

 Jenna's direct presence in his line of sight takes evasion as a tactic right out of Corros' option list.  There is a brief moment where he considers using his considerable charm to his advantage, but the look in Jenna's eyes tells him that honesty is his best option.  That, and he, in fact, will not be going alone.  Maybe that directness is part of what draws him to the priestess.

"It's, uh, not that easy." The warlock licks his lips and shifts in the chair, eyes held by Jenna's. "It's me plus one.  That's it, each way.  If I take someone with me, they're staying put until I can recover to come back.  Or they," you, "will be fighting their way free.  Alone."

Jenna pauses for a moment, folds her arms across her chest, her eyes holding Corros' gaze. Once again she can feel her mind drifting back to the frantic moments in the Keep when she had hurled herself into the heart of the battle. She had not been acting rationally then, had been caught up in the battle that had been raging, every nerve in her body on fire.

"I want to go with you." This time was different, there was a calmness in her mind, a rationality. a different sense of urgency, one that whilst pressing presented an opportunity to discuss the decision before it was made. She knew that the time it would take him to recover was impossible to say for certain, that it could be hours before he was able to come back for her - Jenna did not think of it was 'whoever went with him'

But she knew that he would come back for her. That thought is foremost in her mind, spilling out, no doubt as clear to the Warlock as if it was written on parchment. Whatever happened he would come back for her.

"And if guards come checking that all is well who is likely to arouse the least suspicion if discovered in an emissary's chamber in the middle of the night?" She nods towards Gronk. "A half orc pit fighter?" Her eyes turn to Nicolai. "A rogue?" The Priestess looks back towards Corros. "Or a woman who can tell the Redcloaks that the emissary is 'busy', is not to be disturbed and they should take themselves elsewhere?"

Nicolai chuckles at Gronk's giggling fit, then nods to Overmark.  "Agreed, Commandant.  But there's a difference between an overly complicated plan and several simple plans executed simultaneously.  My intent is to keep pressure on Kreyg, forcing him to deal with multiple problems at once: chirurgical needs, an active insurgency, local disquiet regarding the prisoners, the care of the prisoners themselves, and the loss of foreign support.  All the better if some of those items look like coincidence rather than enemy action.

"Patrols and detachments being defeated is one thing.  Patrols and detachments simply disappearing," he makes an offhanded gesture and palms the piece of charcoal with which he was sketching on the table, "is another level of trouble entirely.  Does Balefyre have any history we could exploit for that?  Vengeful spirits, hungry ghosts, neighborhoods known for mysterious disappearances or mutilations?  Aside from," he makes a flapping motion with his fingers that ends with the charcoal reappearing in his other hand, "the Ravens?"  A momentary smirk flits across his face.

He falls silent as Corros and Jenna spar, then clears his throat.  "I prefer to think of myself as an expediter, Jenna.  Or a spy," he rolls his eyes melodramatically, "if you must be vulgar.  'Rogue' has such dastardly connotations.  May as well call me 'highwayman' and be done with it.

"But, with all due respect, you're a damned poor liar.  And your proposed ruse will hold only if the emissary - whichever one we decide to take first - prefers women."  He shrugs.  "We need to choose a target and Gronk or I may be better-suited to getting out of the Mermaid's Tale."

He arches his back, bringing a soft crackle of cartilage.  "Ahh.  So.  Preliminary assignments, if I may."  He raises an eyebrow and pauses for any immediate dissent.  "Gronk: go talk to Bojidar about formulae we can introduce into the mercenaries' food and drink.  Get prices.  I'll tell you where to find him. 

"Jenna: Kreyg is Tokari-trained.  That will influence his organizational and tactical models for his troops.  Write down everything you can remember.  If you can get to the temple, see if they have any information to add to that. 

"Commandant, Councilman: keep building our picture of Kreyg's operations and start getting your respective people ready for surgical strikes.  Think on how we can make disappearances happen.  We may need to assign some people to clean up after those skirmishes to remove the evidence.

"Jurvis, Lenore: get the word out that the Commandant is free.  Start wild rumors about who - or what - accomplished that.  If people are talking about these 'Ravens,' feel free to embellish.

"Corros, you and I will work on targeting the emissaries.  Let's talk to people who have connections to the Mermaid's Tale, see what they can tell us about what's going on in there and who's whom.  Sleeping arrangements would be lovely to know.  And maybe we'll pay the Vanders a visit and see what the emissaries are saying to the local elite."

"Am I missing anything?"

Gronk acknowledges his assignment with a nod. Shopping's not his forte, but it's a job he can do, and it doesn't sound like he'll be missing out on any of the action. Trying to be helpful, he adds,

"We stayed at the Mermaid's Tale our first night in town. Nice place. I can't remember the manager's name, but he seemed happy to have us there- kicked someone out so that we could have the room, remember? And the chambermaid, the redhead- can't remember her name either- she was nice too. I bet they'd be willing to help, if we could get in touch with them, that is."

-
This message was last updated by the player at 01:41, Wed 07 Sept 2016.

Uncertain as to whether he's being serious or not, Jenna shrugs her shoulders when Nicolai describes how he thinks of himself. "As you please, Nicolai. No offence was intended. And as for my inability to lie, I'll take that as a compliment." It was true, the Priestess was untrained in the arts of deception, something that she doubted very much could be said of the self proclaimed 'expediter' who sat opposite her. And besides, the young woman was unsure whether she should feel disappointed or relieved at the suggestion that someone other than her should accompany Corros. It would likely take very little to go wrong for whoever filled that role to find themselves taking Overmark's place in the dungeons of the Keep.

She's still musing on that when Nicolai moves on, begins issuing assignments. It's enough to cause a brow to arch, although she utters no vocal protest, simply nods her head. Clearly the expediter was well within his comfort zone dealing with this sort of work, where equally obviously Jenna was not. And so she is content to follow his lead for the moment.

"It sounds like a plan, yeah?"  Corros sounds and feels a little relieved.  He would have taken Jenna with him, but leaving her behind and in danger would have been a challenge for him.  And Corros really isn't even the hero type.  In all honesty, though, he would like the opportunity to spend the day with his lady, even in this midst of a riot/brewing rebellion.  Still, handling the latter makes the first easier.  Maybe it's his youth that gives him enough optimism to believe that this can all be handled rapidly even if prior experience has shown that pushing cities around takes time.

"We can focus on the emissaries," Corros tells Nic,  "it'll certainly get the albino's attention.  And the staff of the Mermaid's Tale," he doesn't say the good looking redhead, "should be easy to find.  Maybe even eager to help."

"What about the prisoners?" Gronk asks, referring to the four mercenaries currently lying hooded and trussed up in the back room.

-

At the Safe House

The conspiracy slowly breaks up, each member making last-minute preparations to undertake his or her assigned task. Nic's ravens will serve as go-betweens (as suggested by Overmark), linking the various scattered teams. Although only Nic can communicate directly with the birds, they can still carry simple written messages from place to place, person to person, and Nic quickly teaches them the names of each of the assembled conspirators.

The rain-washed streets are empty of Bloodforged patrols, their commander opting to seize and hold strategic ground in various parts of the city instead of impeding movement throughout. Whether its a sound decision or tactical misstep remains to be seen, but the Four intend on making sure it is the latter.

A cold sun dodges puffy white clouds against a pale blue backdrop of sky. It's a bit nippy out, especially closer to the harbor, but it looks like the rains are taking a break, at least for today.

Tension fills the air like a thick fog. A few Balefyreans are out an about, testing the waters, as it were, moving purposefully to and from their destinations, not loitering, giving the Bloodforged detachments clustered about the city's meeting spaces a wide berth, and keeping their distance from strangers.


Nic and Corros

The two city boys set up to surveil the Mermaid's Tale, loitering under the eaves of the nearby, pearl-roofed Temple of Mera. Breakwater accompanies them, the Queen of the Deep's house being a likely spot where he can get into contact with his FA officers. The grizzled Fisherman disappears into the sanctuary, leaving Nic and Corros to spy from the shadows around the entryway.

The area around the inn is fairly lousy with Redcloaks. At least a dozen are in plain site before the front entrance. There are more fronting the nearby Red Lantern and, around the corner and down the street from that house of ill repute, still more milling around Three Sheets and the Breakers.

As the watchers settle in, a liveried coach arrives at the inn, emblazoned with the double-V monogram of the Vander family. A richly dressed man, wearing the royal colors of Varimor, exits the Mermaid's Tale and boards the coach, accompanied by a man wearing expensive fighting leathers and oozing deadly competence. The two Vander footmen step down from the running boards and their places are taken by a pair of Bloodforged. A third mercenary, armed with a crossbow, climbs up to the sit beside the driver. The coach moves off, headed east, most likely towards the neck and on to the Keep. A be-turbaned figure watches from one of the upstairs windows facing the street. Given his fine clothing, the man is likely an emissary from one of the Caliphates.

It's going to be difficult to contact the Mermaid's proprietor, or any of his staff, for that matter, unless they happen to leave the premises.


Jenna

Jenna makes her way, unmolested, to the temple of Arma. The temple doorway offers a clear view of Fire Watch Keep's entrance gate, being as it is across the wide east-west street. Next to the doorway, someone, presumably Brother Jaro, has tried to scrub a crudely painted red axe, symbol of the Reaver, off of the pale grey marble of the temple's façade. Incensed by the desecration, Jenna shoulders her way roughly through the front doors. As usual, Brother Jaro is there, quietly tending to an otherwise empty sanctuary.

"Strength and honor," Brother Jaro greets the young priestess.

"I can't tell you much more than you already know," the white-haired priest explains. Jenna had already outlined what she'd recalled about Tokar from her studies- that it is a small, independent Duchy occupying a particularly mountainous patch of the arid western shore of the Southern Continent, about two-hundred miles southwest of Freeport. The Tokari mountains aren't particularly tall, but they're forbiddingly jagged, covering nearly all of the kingdom's territory, from the interior almost right down to the coast, bordered to the south by the reputedly impassable Dune Sea, and the myth-shrouded Darklands beyond. The kingdom's half-dozen or so major arable valleys are controlled by feudal lords, of which the Kreyg family was one.

Brother Jaro picks up the thread there, fleshing out the history of Zardis Kreyg. A little over ten turns ago, the Kreygs attempted to overrule the Grand Duke and place one of their own on the ducal throne of Tokar, but were foiled- those Kreygs (and their retainers) who didn't perish during the rebellion were put to the sword; a few managed to escape, settling into a relatively comfortable exile in Freeport. When the money ran out, the surviving Kreygs had to find other work. Zardis, a knight of some renown when the coup collapsed, became a mercenary officer, rising to command a company that he rechristened the Bloodforged. It has since built quite a reputation.

Being a particularly mountainous land, most of Tokar doesn't lend itself to cavalry combat. Therefore, Tokari men-at-arms are almost exclusively foot soldiers, and Tokari mercenaries are prized as light infantry and skirmishers, lightly armored, agile, and proficient with spear, sword, and axe. The Bloodforged company, however, is made up of fighters from all around the Great Inner Sea, most being demobilized Varimorian soldiers. The Bloodforged tend to fight in slightly heavier armor, often supplementing their employers' less experienced levies of spearmen and bowmen, and acting as elite shock troops.


Gronk

Following Nic's instructions, Gronk arrives at Bojidar's, order in hand. It takes a while for the weary White Alchemist to answer his door, unknown half-orcs being infrequent and, judging by the delay, unwelcome patrons. A small hatch in the heavy, iron-bound oak door finally opens, purple eyes narrowed in suspicion peering out from the shadows within.

"Romanelli sent me." Gronk says through the tiny, eye-level wicket gate. A delicately-fingered hand extends from the open hatch, into which Gronk presses the folded parchment containing Nic's order. A few seconds later, the door cracks open, and the half-orc is ushered into a dim foyer, where he is bid to sit and wait while the elven alchemist crafts the requested super-purgatives. An hour or so later, Bojidar returns, bottle in hand and a list of instructions for the potent tincture's optimal use. Gronk pays the man and departs, heading back towards the safe house. He doesn't notice the two men following him.

Party Purse -200GP


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:11, Thu 22 Sept 2016.

"Not a bad spot, all things..." Corros says to Nic from their perch under the eaves of the temple.  It's the kind of spot he would have used to start the search for a safe place to sleep back in Silverleaf: temples have the advantage of lots of nooks and crannies far from prying eyes.  If they weren't here spotting their enemy, he might have become drowsy out of sheer nostalgia. The half-elf's eyebrows rise with the arrival of the Vander carriage, but he doesn't comment on it.  There are too many pieces of strategy in motion in Balefyre at the moment, and he doesn't want to start making up stories based on what he's seeing.  But what he is seeing is that there is an emissary in a window whose entourage just got a lot smaller.

"I don't know Nic.  I can spot that guy from here," he tilts his head at the window.  "Wanna be careless and grab him now?  Daylight raid and all.  If we can knock him out, and keep him out, we might be able to get away clean, yeah?"

Jenna adds Jaro's musings concerning their mutual enemy to her own notes, her quill making scratching noises as it moves over the otherwise empty pages of a small book, committing their shared knowledge to paper so that it can be shared with the others. The blonde haired Priestess is conscious of the statue of the Warrior that looms over both of them as she writes, for it is the first time that she had been in one of Arma's Houses since the night that she had spent with Corros.

She had detected no difference in the elder Priest's actions. He had greeted her in the same fashion as he had on her previous visits, nodding his thanks as she had deposited five gold coins on his collection plate. And yet somehow the Temple seemed...different...in ways that she could not easily identify. It was nothing to do with the foul slogan daubed on the wall outside, although the sight of that had been enough to make Jenna incandescent with rage, swearing silent vengeance on those who would desecrate the House of Arma.

As she put away her book, rose, thanked Jaro, the realisation of what she found unsettling came to the slim Priestess. Were her own actions a desecration of sorts? She looks at the elder Priest, holds his gaze for a moment, the silence between them building, as though each was focused on their own thoughts.

It is Jenna who finally breaks that silence by uttering the traditional words. "May Arma's shield protect you, Her sword clear evil from your path."

May Her shield protect you also, may Her sword always be true." Jaro replies as Jenna takes her leave of the Temple, retraces her steps through the City that is not her own, a grey clad Sentinel, alert for the presence of any Redcloaked mercenaries. Although if she meets one on his own, or perhaps even two, she will not hide from them. Those who would desecrate the Temple of Arma must be prepared to pay the price for their actions. The thought makes Jenna wonder what price the Goddess may one day demand of her.

Nicolai chuckles.  "I like it.  It's a sucker punch in the politics."  He flicks a glance sideways at Corros.  "You have a better feel for the streets than I do," he admits.  "What would you think about getting us in front of that carriage?  That Varimori has four guards.  It's not great odds but I'll bet I can whittle that number down..."

He glances unnecessarily at the eaves of a nearby house and emits a low whistle.  One of his ubiquitous ravens glides across the street and alights on a nearby rain barrel with a musical chuckle.  "Jenna," Nicolai tells the bird, scrawling a nearby address on a scrap of parchment.  The corvid gingerly pinches the missive in its beak and takes flight, followed by a small crowd of its cohorts.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:43, Fri 30 Sept 2016.

"I don't mean to doubt our amazing competence,"  Corros says to Nic, "but we might need a bit more muscle.  Can your winged friends find Jenna and draw her to us?  Might help us hunting.  Can you keep up?" he adds with a slight grin, and then he's in motion.  The warlock would never have been able to keep up with their dwarven druid friend in the wilderness, but here in the city?  Forget it.  A lifetime of knowledge can be obtained in a decade and a half if one is given sufficient motivation to learn, and Corros had been forced to learn.  It was that, or starve, or die in one of a hundred or more grizzly deaths.  If he was lucky.  Instead, he picked up on the ebbs and flows of traffic, the way a city breathes, and how the main streets are like arteries carrying blood.  There was one particular lesson that is coming in handy on their present task, though.

Most cities only have so many streets that can handle carriage traffic.  The others are too narrow, too steep, to windy, or simply end at inconvenient moments.  But just because they can't carry wheeled traffic, doesn't mean these cast-offs can't get two nimble men where they need to be even quicker than a box drug behind a team of horses.

Corros leads Nic left, then down a filth encrusted alley that spills into a market space for barrels.  They aren't there forty paces before they hook another left and sprint down a clean, if narrow, stretch of cobblestones that appears to be made up of homes for some kind of artisan class.  Then they turn again.  And again.  Finally, after several lung busting minutes, Corros leads them to an alley that intersects with the main thoroughfare.

"The carriage," he pants, "if I'm right, should be here in about two minutes.  You have a plan, yeah?"  It would be rude to point out that they are here without their more combat oriented brethren.  So Corros let's it slide.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:45, Sun 25 Sept 2016.

Making remarkable speed, the streetwise warlock leads his Ardani companion through side streets, alleys, and yards to a shadowed spot off the Neck, along the carriage's most likely route (and about two blocks away from the safe house). Belying Corros' estimation, the luxury conveyance appears not long after the pair gets into position. The two horses drawing the carriage are moving at a trot, the liveried man holding their reigns looking uncomfortable. Beside him sits a Redcloak with a loaded crossbow held just above his lap. The other two mercenary escorts are standing on runners, behind the enclosed cab, on either side. They're each holding on to the carriage with one hand, a polearm in the other. All of the mercs wear short swords at the hip.

Summoned by raven courier*, Jenna is on the opposite (east) side of the Neck, at an intersection kitty-corner to her two companions, and a bit further from the approaching carriage. Although her companions can see her, she hasn't yet spotted them.

The carriage will arrive to within 30' of Corros and Nic (60' from Jenna) in just a few seconds...


Your Turn.


*For continuity's sake, please edit a previous turn post to reflect this.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:14, Sat 24 Sept 2016.

From his station behind a discarded crate, Nicolai nocks an arrow and brings his bow to a half-draw.  He makes no motion to raise it yet - the motion would certainly draw eyes he doesn't want to attract for a few more moments.  Instead, as the carriage passes, he focuses on the paired horses and murmurs, "dóiteáin agus scoirnigh."  He flexes his right ring finger against the sudden chill that permeates the bronze band he wears there, draws a breath to see if his spell has taken effect, and brings the bow to full draw...

Opening with Fear (p. 239) from Ring of Animal Influence.  30-foot cone, affecting only animals.  Targeting both horses.  Their save is Wisdom, DC 13.

If successful, next action will be a shortbow sneak attack (attack +6, damage 3d6+3 piercing) on whichever Redcloak is still on the carriage.

If unsuccessful, next action will be that attack on the nearest horse, hoping to cause it to bolt if it's not an outright kill.

Overcome by a sudden, inexplicable fear, the horses abruptly yank against their harnesses, turning sharply to their right, away from the alley where Nicoloai and Corros wait concealed. The driver, holding tight to the reigns, is pulled from his seat, landing with a sickening thud in the street- a passing wheel barely misses crushing his head. In an instinctive attempt to steady himself, the crossbowman sitting next to the now-empty driver's seat accidentally discharges his weapon, dropping it as his hands grope for purchase.

The carriage's front wheels turn too sharply, too quickly, catching against the uneven cobbles and dumping the vehicle on its left side with a loud crash. The three red-cloaked guards riding on its exterior are thrown into the street, landing hard and tumbling clear of the moving wreck. The carriage continues to slide down the Neck, shedding sparks and splinters as its gilt wooden sides grate against the surface of the street. It doesn't get too far- the horses, starting to overcome their blind terror, can't overcome the drag of the sideways carriage. It grinds to a halt about 30" past Nic and Corros' position (very close to where Jenna waits), the horse team whickering in fear as they continue to strain against their tackle.

It all happens in just a few heartbeats.

The guards lie in the street, separated from their primary weapons; although clearly stunned, and undoubtedly hurt, all three are conscious and stirring. The occupants of the carriage's enclosed cab almost certainly sustained some sort of injuries in the crash but, at the moment, there's no way of telling how serious they might be.

Bowstring already drawn, Nic takes aim at the Redcloak closest to regaining his feet and lets fly. The arrow sticks in the merc's left forearm, drawing a shrill curse (B3 -9HP).

(Crash damage: B1 -16HP, B2 -14HP, B3 -6HP; all are stunned)


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:26, Sat 01 Oct 2016.

Corros doesn't waste time oohing and aahing over the effects of Nic's fear spell on the horses.  As the carriage settles in a cloud of dust and curses, the warlock emerges from the alley and starts a steady walk forward.  His boots crush bits of brick thrown up as the twisting carriage tumbled.  People are already emerging from the walls they had thrown themselves against to avoid getting crushed, eager to see what had happened and if anyone is still alive.  From the yells of anger and pain, it is clear the guards are still alive.

Jenna, we need the carriage open.  Can you do the honors?

It's time to get the crowd back, to let them know this is still an active battle.  When his eyes find the crossbow armed guardsman, Corros draws forward a pair of bolts to put the man down before he can form an organized defense.

Corros
43/43 HP, AC 13
Walking to the carriage, casting Eldritch Bolt at the guardsman with the crossbow. 2x bolts, +7 to attack, d10+4 damage each

As Nicolai dashes forward, the corner of his mind that's writing a report to a nonexistent handler wonders, what do you call a carriage accident when there's nothing accidental about it?  The greater part of his concentration is focused on maintaining his balance on the rain-slick stones so he can reduce the odds to more manageable numbers.  His rapier comes free with a hiss of steel on leather; a moment later, his dagger drops into his free hand.

The nearest Bloodforged is staggering to his feet and reaching for a pair of hand-axes.  Nicolai checks his rush by planting a boot in the man's shoulder.  As both combatants pivot away from the impact, the Ardani's blades dip, flickering toward his opponent's arms.

Nicolai
Move: Into melee with B1
Attack: Rapier +1 against B1 (attack +7 with advantage, damage 1d8+4)
Bonus: Dagger +1 against B1 (attack +7 with advantage, damage 1d4+4)
Special: First successful attack gets +2d6 sneak attack damage

Summoned by Romanelli's raven, Jenna had arrived  at the address on the scrap of paper that the bird had borne in her beak to find no sign of her companions. Unsure as to why he had sent the bird to fetch her here the blonde haired Priestess had given the carriage no more than a cursory glance, was still looking around for any sign of the others when her attention was captured by the whining of horses, the sounds of the carriage scraping and grating across the street, the cries of men.

A moment later the carriage has come to a halt close to her, its wheels still spinning, the horses that drew it pulling against their harnesses. Bystanders are already turning their heads in the direction of the accident, gawking at it, some pointing, although no one seems to be moving to offer any aid. Then the Priestess sees Corros emerge from the crowd across the way, hears his voice in her mind, a soft whisper that tells her what he needs her to do.

Jenna nods as though he was standing next to her, sees Nicolai too emerge from the throng, blades in hand as she steps forward, quickly closes the distance to the upturned carriage, taking care to try and avoid the horses as she clambers up on to it, standing on the side and looking inside, having no clue what it contains as her hands close on the door handle and pull it downwards to try and open it.

Jenna
Climbing up on to carriage and trying to open door

Ambush sprung, the companions make haste to seize and hold the initiative.

Twin bolts of eldritch energy leap from Corros' outstretched hands, enveloping the warlock's quarry in a swirling cloud of purple sparks. Despite the dazzling pyrotechnic display, the magical attack appears to have done little damage (B1 -9HP).

As it becomes apparent that they are witnessing an attack rather than an accident, nearby pedestrians scatter, or find doorways and alleyways from which to gawk in perceived relative safety.

Nic strikes ruthlessly at the recovering Bloodforged crossbowman but the man's red-lacquered armor stands up to the test, turning both rapier and dagger blades. It occurs to the Ardani that Kreyg probably wouldn't entrust VIP protection to just any of his rank-and-file sellswords- these Bloodforged are likely some of Kreyg's best men.

Jenna clambers on to the side of the jackknifed carriage and opens the gilt door. Two upturned faces greet her, one soft and bloodied, the other hard and unscathed. The nearest of the two occupants, clearly the bodyguard, reaches for the longsword slung from his waist as he struggles to separate himself from his injured noble charge.

OOC: After this turn, the guards will be able to act. You still have advantage on attacks this round.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:59, Tue 04 Oct 2016.

Looking at the two faces staring up at her, for a moment Jenna is unsure whether she’s supposed to rescue them or kill them. The decision is made for her when one of them begins to draw his blade as he struggles to push his companion aside. On one knee on the side of the carriage that now faces towards the sky, the Priestess points at the swordsman with her right hand, taking a deep breath as she feels the Goddess’s power surge through her and manifest itself in a bolt of radiant energy that dances around her fingertips for a split second before she launches it at the swordsman.

Jenna
HP 44/44; AC 21
On one knee on top of carriage
Launching Guiding Bolt (Level 2) at swordsman

"Hells," Corros swears.  The effects of his magical offensive having proved tepid, at best, the warlock takes a deep breath breath as he approaches the previous target who is now struggling to his feet.  A flick of his eyes shows Jenna engaging someone in the carriage with her own magic.  If the three Ravens aren't careful and effective in the next ten seconds, this battle is going to go sideways.  Badly.

Instead of renewing his attack, the warlock kicks his pace up to a run and scrambles up the carriage.  Inside are two passengers, one clearly armed and dangerous.  The other, he presumed target, the emissary.  The knowledge bestowed upon him by the Library vibrates through his fingers calling power to flesh in an attempt to warp and mold the emissary into something much more...portable.

Corros
43/43 HP, AC 13
Casting Sculptor of Flesh on the emissary, form of a turtle
This message was last edited by the player at 00:21, Wed 05 Oct 2016.

Nicolai doesn't let the supercilious smirk slide from his face, but inside he's cursing as he adjusts his footwork and comes in again on the Bloodforged corporal.  He's regretting not sending another raven for Gronk - but then again, he doesn't have to win this fight, he just has to drag it out long enough for Jenna and Corros to win theirs.  Or at least separate the dignitary from his bodyguard.

I'll buy you as much time as I can, he thinks toward the witchling as his blades descend.  Grab the mark, get out, and have Jenna disengage.

Nicolai
AC 16; HP 54/54; Superiority dice 4/4
Move: Staying right here
Attack: Rapier +1 against B1 (attack +7 with advantage, damage 1d8+4)
Bonus: Dagger +1 against B1 (attack +7 with advantage, damage 1d4+4)
Special: First successful attack gets +2d6 sneak attack damage

Standing atop the acutely tilted carriage, looking down inside, Jenna attempts to neutralize the Varimori emissary's bodyguard. A blazing bolt of white light shoots from the blond cleric's hand, enveloping the swordsman in a scorching halo of radiant fire (G1 -19HP; target grants advantage to next attack). The bodyguard, although hurt by the magical blast, thrusts upward with his sword, looking to disembowel his assailant. The finely-made weapon's keen blade slides through the strap of Jenna's right greave, cutting through the mail and flesh beneath (Jenna -10HP). A second thrusting attack is turned by the cleric's enchanted armor.

With his feet firmly set in a more formal attacking stance, Nic's second round of melee attacks is much more successful than the first. The tip of his rapier finds a chink in the mail covering the mercenary's cubital fossa, driving deep into the flesh below. As the man grimaces and pulls away, Nic's dagger slices sweeps in just under his eyeline, tracing a crimson line across his cheek (B1 -22HP).

The Redcloak recovers quickly, bringing his handeaxe down on Nic's left arm (Nic -7HP). The shifty rogue manages to twist out of the way of a second falling hatchet blade. One of the other mercenaries picks one of the dropped spears up off of the cobbles and charges towards the Ardani. The spear tip punches through Nic's studded leather armor, drawing blood (Nic -7HP).

The third Bloodforged escort seems momentarily torn between assisting his two red-armored comrades and discharging his duty to protect the Varimori delegate. With the swarthy attacker reeling, he opts for the latter, drawing short sword and running towards the jackknifed carriage.

Corros briefly considers evoking a second brace of eldritch bolts, before turning his full attention back to the main objective of their hasty ambush. He sprints over to the sideways carriage and climbs up next to Jenna. She appears to be fully engaged against the emissary's personal bodyguard- Corros can just barely see beyond the broad-shouldered fighting man to the emissary curled into a ball at the ersatz bottom of the cab. The warlock's hands perform the prescribed motions, as the words of a long-dead language spill from his lips. Where just moments before cowered a richly-dressed, middle-aged man, a box turtle now stands placidly on its four stubby legs. Someone will have to climb down into the carriage, however, in order to pick up the transmuted emissary.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:22, Thu 06 Oct 2016.

Any confusion that Jenna may have experienced when Corros leaps up to join her atop the carriage and promptly transforms one of its occupants into a turtle is rapidly dispelled when the...turtle’s…companion lunges at her, the sharp pain that follows as his blade finds an exposed part of her armour and slices the skin underneath bringing her thoughts swiftly back to focus as she sheds her blood for the Warrior.

Seeing the white fire dance and flicker around her foe Jenna takes a breath, her eyes now milky white as she feels Arma’s power flow through her, her body a conduit for the Goddess’s power, a power that courses through her, converges at her fingertips as she unleashes a second bolt of radiance at the swordsman, this one fiercer than the last, words tumbling from her lips as she does so. ”Yield now, while you have the chance!”

Jenna
HP 34/44; AC 21
On one knee on top of carriage
Launching Guiding Bolt (Level 3) at swordsman

On it! Corros says to Nic before pushing his way into the fray between Jenna and the sell sword.

Whether the swordsman yields or not, Corros drops into the newly spacious carriage.  Watching the emissary...change had been bizarre no matter how he looked at it.  He hadn't even been sure he could do it until he tried, the power coming from that place both inside and outside his mind.  Trying to ignore the guy with the pointy objects and fully expecting to get stuck by at least one of them, Corros wraps one hand around a rather confused looking turtle and uses the other to start summoning a door to pull him four hundred feet away from this mess.

As soon as the portal forms, Corros reaches up, and pulls Jenna through with him.

Corros
43/43 HP, AC 13
Securing turtle, casting dimension door with the distances in mind to put him roughly 400 feet away in an alley in the basic direction of the safehouse.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:17, Thu 06 Oct 2016.

Dropping to one knee, Jenna unleashes another burst of radiant energy from her open palm. It strikes with even greater force than the first, hammering the grievously-wounded bodyguard to his knees next to the involuntarily reptilian envoy (G1 -28HP; target grants advantage).

Corros exploits the opening and leaps down into the cab, picking up the bewildered tortoise with one hand whilst the other traces the requisite runes for opening a dimensional door. As the magical portal expands to admit the warlock, Corros reaches back and grabs ahold of Jenna's outstretched hand, attempting to pull her through after him. He's more than half-way through the dimension door when he feels his grip falter, then fail. Passing through 400m of horizontal space in an instant, Corros appears in an alley approximately two blocks northeast of the ambush site, tortoise in one hand, the hand that was holding Jenna's empty.

Jenna loses her balance when Corros grabs her, tumbling headlong through the open carriage door. She is essentially diving after her fleeing paramour, when the stricken cavalier wraps his shield arm* around her the waist. Jenna tries to twist free, but to no avail (Jenna is grappled!)- the knight is too strong. The two contestants are tangled in a squirming, struggling mass in the bottom of the cab, surrounded by the smell of burnt ozone, fresh blood, and stale cologne. The bodyguard drops his sword- ill-suited for the cramped confines of the carriage interior- and reaches to his belt for a dagger.

The third Redcloak climbs atop the carriage, just as Jenna disappears within. Looking down inside the cab, the crouching mercenary sees the cleric and the lightly-armored Varimori knight struggling against one another. There's not much he can do to help, though- not without risk of injuring his ally.

Meanwhile, Nic (NPC'ed) is doing his best the other two Bloodforged escorts occupied. The Ardani rogue moves with a deadly gracefulness, rapier and dagger singing through the cool, damp air. His target tries to fend off the blades but they easily pass his guard, drawing yet more blood. Exhausted, the grievously-wounded mercenary slumps to the cobbles, and starts slipping into unconsciousness (B1 is unconscious & dying).

The merc's comrade shows an impressive mastery of the spear, vengefully striking Nic with two well-placed thrusts (Nic -14HP).

*His off hand. The knight isn't carrying a shield at the moment.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:04, Sun 09 Oct 2016.

Nicolai jerks back from the spear-thrusts.  The mercenary's guard is strong and the Ardani's blades lack the reach necessary to harry the man, so Nicolai turns and sprints for the carriage.  As he wheels, he emits a piercing whistle.  The air turns black with dozens of ravens converging on the spearman.  An unpleasant grin splits Nicolai's face as he vaults atop the overturned carriage.  "Hello, there," he hisses at the Redcloak menacing Jenna.

Nicolai
AC 16; HP 26/54; Superiority dice 4/4
Bonus: Disengage
Move: Out of melee with B2, into melee with B3
"Attack:" Commanding ravens to distract B2
Reaction: If struck, will spend 1 superiority die for riposte
This message was last edited by the player at 23:55, Sun 09 Oct 2016.

Jenna is still not sure exactly what is going on. Nicolai's raven had summoned her to this address, Corros had appeared briefly by her side, and then a man had turned into a turtle. She was unsure whether her lover was attempting to kidnap the turtle or rescue it, but in either event he had vanished through some magical portal and she now found herself inside the carriage, close enough to smell her opponent's sweat, to see the anger in his eyes.

Jenna had practiced in close quarters battle like this at the Cloisters but she was well aware that she was no expert. Nor did she possess an appropriate weapon, for there was no room to swing Arma's Blessing, and any attempt to channel the Goddess' radiant energy was likely to be thwarted, the proximity of her enemy allowing him to disrupt the movements of her hands.

And so the blonde haired Priestess falls back on instinct, closes her gloved right hand into a fist and aims a punch at the swordsman's face, at the same time bringing up an armoured knee, hoping to strike him in the groin.

Jenna
HP 34/44; AC 21
Attempting melee combat - 1 x punch to face, 1 x knee to groin

Corros feels Jenna's grip slip from his as something pulls her from behind, keeping his lover from following him through the would he tore in space.  It is not a good feeling.  He stands safe for the moment, a turtle slowly blinking up at him.

"Yes, I know your confused," he tells the creature.  "But their lives mean more to me than yours.  Or mine frankly." 

The city is his home.  Any city.  Running through the streets, traveling Balefyre has given him a formidable understanding of where he needs to be standing.  He knows how to run should he be discovered.  And he's going to be damned if the woman he's given his heart over to is going to die without him trying to save her.  And Nic too.

Corros drops the hapless creature into the satchel slung across his shoulder and begins to run.


Corros
45/45 HP, AC 13
Running back the way he came, using City Secrets (x2 traveling speed).  Trying to close to 120' for the effective range of eldritch blast.
Mercenary arrival will derail his plan and force him into less obvious motion.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:43, Sun 09 Oct 2016.

Any hasty pursuit of the shifty Ardani rogue by the Redcloak spearman is foiled by the conspiracy of cawing ravens. The mercenary swings his weapon wildly in a futile attempt to bat away the tightly-circling birds but, despite a few dislodged feathers, the ravens continue to swarm him unabated.

Nic is atop the carriage in three seconds. The guard squatting there greets him with a thrust of his short sword followed up by a chopping swing. Nic avoids both and counters with a smooth riposte. Once again, however, the red Bloodforged armor is proof against the Ardani's light blades.

Inside the carriage, Jenna breaks the cavalier's nose with a punch from her mailed fist. Her knee catches on something hard and never reaches his groin. He stabs at the cleric twice, but Smoke easily stops the dagger blade. Although the man continues to maintain his grip around her waste, the priestess can feel his strength ebbing. One more strike might be enough to finish him (G1 -3HP).

Corros dashes towards the site of the ambush. Although he's making almost superhuman speed (120' this turn) through the back alleys and side streets, it'll still be some time (2 more turns of dashing) before he arrives back on scene, within range of his eldritch attack cantrip.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:55, Mon 10 Oct 2016.

Jenna’s face is streaked with blood, her opponent’s, where it had spurted from his broken nose. The Priestess is breathing harder. Whilst she had often smashed skulls with her hammer this was the first time that she had fought another hand to hand, the first time that she had seen her own fist break bone.

”I told you to yield whilst you could.” She hisses, balling her first and throwing another punch at the swordsman’s face, ready to follow up with another, then another until he either throws himself on her mercy or stops moving.

Jenna
HP 34/44; AC 21
Melee combat – punching bodyguard in the face until he surrenders or reaches zero HP

"After she's done with him, there's only one way out of this carriage, and you're standing in it," Nicolai tells his adversary.  He lets his eyes drop, as if involuntarily, then aims a high cut at the mercenary's throat when the man follows suit.

Nicolai
AC 16; HP 26/54; Superiority dice 2/4
Bonus: Feint against B3 (-1 superiority die)
Attack: Rapier +1 against B3 (attack +7 with advantage, damage 2d8+2d6+4)
Move (optional): If B3 goes down, returning to melee with B2
Reaction: If struck, will spend 1 superiority die for riposte (attack +7, damage 2d8+4)

Corros runs, watching the streets as he goes, trying to gauge what is happening in the city around him.  There will be help coming for the carriage under siege and he doesn't want to mark himself as part of the problem.  If he runs directly to the scene and finds Jenna and Nic gone but mercenaries there, the last thing he wants to do is stand out of the crowd and have to start a running streetfight.

That concern pales to the fear that he'll get there and find his friends dead.

His feet strike the cobblestones repeatedly as he struggles for breath and continues to run.

As soon as Jenna's short right hook connects with the bodyguard's jaw, he goes limp, instantly releasing his death grip around the cleric's slender waist and dropping his dagger on the ersatz floor (G1 -3HP; G1 is unconscious!).

Nic, meanwhile, duels with the Bloodforged atop the carriage side, just above the priestess and the unconscious cavalier. The Ardani's clever feint draws the expected response and Nic makes the mercenary pay for his predictability (B3 -15HP). The Redcloak's short sword is better suited than Nic's rapier to the cramped, ad hoc platform atop which the two men are facing off, and he succeeds in cutting the rogue with a tight backhand swing (Nic -5HP). The mercenary's follow-up thrust, however, misses badly and Nic adds injury to insult with a quick counter, doing additional damage (B3 -8HP).

The mercenary down on the street regains his composure and wades resolutely through the swirling conspiracy of noisy ravens, making a bee-line for the carriage. The ravens won't leave him alone, though, causing enough of a distraction to make him miss both spear thrusts aimed at the elevated, currently-engaged rogue.

Corros easily avoids the light foot traffic, arriving back the Neck about two blocks north of the ambush site. He doesn't see any Bloodforged along the way, and a quick glance north suggests that help from the direction of the keep won't be arriving on scene anytime soon, if it's coming at all. That said, he realizes that he and his friends have raised enough of a ruckus in the surrounding neighborhood that getting back to Vander's safe house unseen and unremarked is an increasingly unlikely proposition. There are simply too many curious onlookers about. If he continues sprinting, Corros will be back within range of the carriage in another half-a-minute or so (i.e. another combat round), but he'll need to take a quick breather (literally) before he can cast again.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:04, Fri 14 Oct 2016.

Jenna takes a moment to ensure that the wretch slumped at her feet is not about to cause any immediate danger, bending down to retrieve his dagger and sword, thrusting both into her belt for the moment. It would have taken a matter of mere seconds to slit his throat and ensure that he would never be a threat, but that was not Arma’s way. The Goddess showed mercy to the vanquished.

Looking up Jenna can both see and hear booted feet moving about on the side of the carriage that now serves as its roof, the sounds of battle carrying to the inside of the carriage, Nicolai’s voice mixed in with the clashing of blades. The Priestess looks around briefly, looking to see if there is anything within reach that she should take. She is not seeking to loot coin or jewels, is rather looking for any papers, anything that appears as though it might have relevance to current events in Balefyre.

When that’s completed she’ll attempt to hoist herself out of the carriage, grasping the door and trying to get back up on to the exterior, alongside Romanelli. If she’s successful she’ll rise to her feet as quickly as she can and see if the Ardani needs her assistance or healing.

Jenna
HP 34/44; AC 21
Recovering weapons / looking for intel
Attempting to clamber out of carriage and join the fray on the side / roof
Warhammer 1d8+1+2 STR

Nicolai glances down again, a smirk flickering across his features as he catches another sword-thrust with his dagger.  "I warned you," he tells the mercenary as Jenna's armored form rises up behind the man.  As the priestess' warhammer descends, Nicolai's rapier rises to catch the Bloodforged between the weapons.

Nicolai
AC 16; HP 21/54; Superiority dice 1/4
Attack: Rapier +1 against B3 (attack +7, damage 1d8+1d6+4)
Bonus: Dagger +1 against B3 (attack +7, damage 1d8+4 [+2d6 if rapier misses])
Move: None
Reaction: If struck, will spend 1 superiority die for riposte (attack +7, damage 2d8+4)

Alternate: If B3 goes down with the rapier attack, move and bonus actions become:
Move: Into melee with B2
Bonus: Dagger +1 against B2 (attack +7, damage 1d8+4)