Many adventurers who plan to lobby for the jobs outlined at the meeting visit Wizard’s Grace, a popular nearby tavern, before the proceedings begin. Some hold traditional toasts for good fortune, some schmooze with the townsfolk in hopes of being hired, and some seek to scope out the other adventurers with whom they might be working—or competing for the jobs at hand.

The wizard's grace is an odd U-shaped building with the main tavern set up at one end and then the rooms and stables curving back around. It is nice for some as during the day patrons can access their rooms without going through the tavern but still it is a very unusual design. The locals claim it is based around the sigil of town founder and savior Lamond Breachton but cynics in the crowd would suggest one of the previous owners thought horseshoes were a very lucky shape when planning the inn's expansion.

In any event it is nearly as old as the town itself and has become a staple for visiting adventurers and locals alike. Walking along most of the back wall is a 35' long bar which is supposed to be tended by Trinil Uskwold (female human innkeeper) although truth be told she is usually busy with her three young children and keeping them out of trouble. Unfortunately her husband passed away a couple years ago in a hunting accident. Instead her father, Markle Uskwold (male human bartender) tends the bar while her mother, Lucile Uskwold (female human innkeeper) watch the bar and the inn respectively.

Because of the influx of traffic around the Call of the Heroes the bare employs twice as many cooks and wait staff as normal with three chefs in the back (nicknamed collectively the Hydras with how they snap in unison at anyone who enters) and five serving staff.

From the entrance the right side of the tavern holds two large fireplaces, both of which have big pots of boar stew brewing all throughout the day as it is a traditional meal served for the call of heroes. There are two grand banquet tables near the fires for larger parties of a dozen or more while throughout the rest of the bar are a half dozen smaller, 4-person tables.

To the left is a private seating area with its own, smaller fire. That table is currently unoccupied.

Finally in the back corner is a stage for traveling bards and minstrels. Right now there is a large half-orc woman tuning a lyre but she isn't currently performing just yet.

---

The current layout and patrons of the Wizard's Grace is as follows:

Table A (9 chairs)
-One young man (human male) tossing pebbles into the fireplace.

Table B (11 chairs)
-Empty

Table C (Private area, 6 chairs)
-Empty

Table D (4 chairs)
- Two woodsmen appear to be talking to a traveling Varisian harrower based on the Harrow cards she is laying out on the table. (male human woodsmen, female human fortuneteller)

Table E (4 chairs)
- Three rough looking men in leathers with dirty faces hunched over their bowls of stew whispering quietly to one another.

Table F (4 chairs)
- One half-elf swordsman with a serious look on his face staring at the runes etched into his dagger as he eats his bowl of stew. (male half-elf sellsword)

Table G (4 chairs)
-Three adventurers appear to be gambling. One has their hand splayed out while another stabs the point of a dagger quickly between the first's fingers while the third one appears to be betting on whether the hand will be stabbed or not. It seems a silly game but there is a surprising amount of gold and silver on the table. (female tiefling, male half-elf, male dwarf)

Table H (5 chairs)
- Three locals already drunk and heckling the bard to play a bawdy song ( male human commoners)

Table I (3 chairs)
- Four adventurers arguing with one another about who's job it is to find a chair for the fourth one who is standing. (male human fighter, female elven wizard, male goblin troublemaker, female gnome archer).

Bar (8 stools)
-Four town guards eating stew and keeping an eye on things (2 female, 2 male human guards)

---

OOC: When you enter please specify which table you're sitting at.
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 06:02, Tue 28 July 2020.

Nezaglomie makes it into the town just before the gates close.  She had expected to get here sooner, but the old gnome gave her bad directions, telling her to come around to the southwest gate rather than the east.  Or maybe it was good directions, and he steered her out of trouble, but that walk through the Crimson Tide Wood was certainly creepy.

He was true to his word, at least, and the main road off the gate leads her directly to the Breachill Archives.  She stands on her toes to look in the window and it's clear the place is already closed for the night.  I know the secrets are here.  I just have to be a little patient.  She continues down the main street, past the town hall, looking for a place to get a meal and maybe a room.  Spotting a tavern with the sign "Wizard's Grace" she figures that maybe her luck has improved.

She enters into the front door and naturally moves straight to the fire.  She is please to see that there are a variety of chairs, some for bigs, and some more appropriate for people of her stature.  At 2 feet 9, she is a little undersized for a gnome.  No amount of swagger or presence will make up for the fact that a climb up on to a human-sized chair is going to look embarrassing.  She sighs.  But the smaller tables are not near the fire.  I guess I'll have to cope.

Za walks over to Table A, where a young human man is tossing bits of something into the fire.  "How are you, sir?  A fine evening, I hope," she says with a bright smile.  Moving between him and the fireplace, she steps up on to the hearth, ignoring the heat that emanates from under the stew pot.  The hearth gives her enough of a boost that she can climb up on to the chair with a little dignity, where she kneels rather than sitting so that her head and shoulders are fully above the tabletop.  "I am called Nezaglomie.  Are you in town here for the event?"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:02, Thu 30 July 2020.

The Wizard's Grace... He'd likely have continued on distrustfully had he taken the handful of minutes it would have taken to sound out the tavern's name. The tall Ulfen warrior was not particularly learned in the scribblings and scratchings that supposedly made up the many words which seemed to power the world around him. He knew many runes and symbols, several letters and even a number or seven, and if really hard pressed could probably out do a child of similar understanding, but such things mattered little to him. With a shrug at the puny wineglass portrayed upon the tavern's sign, the tall, armored human stepped through the door, turning a bit sideways and ducking a little in order to pass the threshold.

He stood looking around for a moment, his head nearly touching the heavy beams of the ceiling. After a quick scan of the place, and a rather disgusted grunt, the warrior made his way toward the table of, perhaps, a kindred in occupation if not in spirit. The bear-fur boots made muffled slapping noises as he crossed the heavy floorboards. He pulled out a bench seat and sat down heavily. He adjusted his sword to a more comfortable position, and eased a few of the buckles of his armor.

"Maerk is Maerk," he said by way of introduction to the half-elven sellsword, "Chil-dren of Steel, but no more. Now Maerk looks for... other work. Swordhire yes? What outfit you are?"


Going to try for Table F with the sellsword

A goblin strides into the Wizard's Grace, not too outlandish a sight in these times and this region. However he is visually fairly distinct. Pretty good looking for a goblin, his body is healthier looking than most. Less misshapen. His small frame belies strength likely on par with a hard laborer at least and though his movements are oddly springy the goblin moves with clear grace and discipline.

Atop his head is a tricorne hat with a small, battered feather on it and a fairly unobtrusive strap to keep it secured to his head if things get windy or violent. A long, weathered coat doesn't hide the leather armor underneath. In all, he seems dressed as an adventurer that would prefer the sea, which this is clearly not.

He nods with a tip of the hat to the half-orc bard and strides over to the barkeep, a wide smile on his face. He doesn't seem to pay any mind to the fact he's very short (average goblin height), and the bar itself is made for use by mostly human-sized folk.

"Hail, ale-frien'. Do ye 'ave any scraps that'd be suitable for a slurpin' bah a fine hound? Ah'd pay ye some coin fer 'em if'n ye do. My ridin' scruffer's a fine lass'n'she deservin' some fine treats."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:48, Tue 28 July 2020.

In reply to N'za Glom (msg # 2):

The boy looks over at her with a big dopey grin.

"Zaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa" he says, letting the word morph as his tongue flops out and he starts wagging his head around to create a miniature Doppler effect with the sound.

He grins at her, a bit of drool sliding down his crooked grin and then tosses something into the fire. It appears to be a pebble of sort but it makes a soft little pop as whatever it is bursts in the flames.


OOC: Wasssasaaaaaaap

https://youtu.be/JJmqCKtJnxM?t=20

This message was lightly edited by the GM at 19:00, Tue 28 July 2020.

In reply to Maerk (msg # 3):

The sell-sword takes his eyes off of the dagger, looks up at Maerk and gives a nod. A sign of acceptance from one killer to another before turning his attention back to the dagger.

Maerk can't help but catch how the light ripples along the steel creating a rainbow-like effect as if the weapon had been dipped in very thin oil. Perhaps it had been, or perhaps it had some kind of magical enchantment on it that created that slick effect.

In reply to Yarr the Hearty (msg # 4):

The old man behind the bar gives a nod at the goblin and hobbles over to the door to the kitchen.

"Got any scraps?"

Almost simultaneously a trio of voices shout out at him.

"You think we cook with scraps?"
"Scraps? I'll show you scraps!"
"You're interrupting us for scraps?"

The old man leans back out of the doorway quickly as a tin cup goes sailing by, hitting the door and splashing him a bit with some kind of clear liquid.

"Not for me you bloody fools, for a customer!"

"Send him round back and I'll chop him up into the next batch o' stew!"
"I swear to the gods above I will gut you if you waste any more of our time!"
"You want scraps? Here, take all the scraps you can handle!"

The old man leans back again and a plate full of trimmings goes sailing by and smashes into the door sending bits of fat and ligiments and other odds and ends not suitable for a stew crashing to the floor.

The bartender lets the door close and then jerks his head towards the passthrough at the end of the bar.

"Anything you pick up off the floor is yours, no charge."

He gives the goblin a smile and a nod and then hobbles back over to where he was cleaning the glasses.
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 19:09, Tue 28 July 2020.

Nezaglomie looks at the boy with a little alarm.  She considers that his bizarre pronunciation of her nickname is a bit excessive for an odd accent.  On the other hand, he doesn't look like he is trying to provoke her.  These bigs certainly have an odd way about them.  Maybe this one has a brain injury or some such.

She notices that the bar stools are a bit higher, and would allow her to sit normally at the table without it coming just to her chin.  With a quick Prestidigitation she moves an empty stool from the bar, pulling it next to the chair she is currently kneeling on, then shifts over to it.  Hopefully this strange human won't think I'm trying to get away from him, just looking for a more comfortable seat.

She barely gets herself situated when a goblin walks in.  It looks a little better dressed than other goblins she's seen, but it is probably just as vile.  The creature tips its hat and speaks to the bartender, just like a regular person.  Is the barkeep going to throw it out, or do they tolerate vicious killers here in Breachill?  She's a little surprised that the bartender seems to take the goblin seriously, and even suffers some sort of craziness from the kitchen for it, but then she smiles when the bartender tells him to pick up scraps off the floor.  That's about right for a gobbo.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:45, Tue 28 July 2020.

Yarr bows slightly to the barkeep.

"Ah be sorry fer the trouble. 'ave yerself a silver fer tha danger to yer brainbox. Ah know m'self 'ow terrible 'twould be for ar moneymakers ta gid scuffled. In ar lines ah work sportant ta be pretty an' ye got a far bit mordalose then me, ya scrap donatin' incubus you."

Yarr grabs up the crashed plate and collects every morsel. Then he goes the extra mile of taking out his handkerchief and cleaning up the liquid and other lose, unfetchable bits of mess on the floor. His expression still upbeat.

"Can't 'ave someone slippin'. Only fair I swab the planks a bit fer the trouble."

Yarr starts to softly sing a jaunty tune for cleaning, not loud enough to bother anyone, but people fairly close to the bar might hear.

"Ther once was a lass from ages past, an elf she be with a lot of sass. A queen wid a sword, the sight left none board. A beauty she be, morethan you er me. A shame ye see, a great tragedy. Dat fool man o 'ers only liked her ass. The lass, the lass she's more th'n just'n ass. Dat much I could see, but she won' sail 'way wid me..."

----


OOC: Performance 13
This message was last edited by the player at 05:58, Thu 30 July 2020.

Sularius entered the The Wizard's Grace with a content smile on his face and a bounce to his step. He'd just spent the last couple of hours perusing the collections at the Reliant Book Company which, for such a small and young human settlement, were surprisingly impressive. But for now, there were more important things for him to focus on, the Call for Heroes.

His eyes scanned the room as he entered the tavern, quickly perusing the room and the guests within as he mind began to wander and develop stories for each of them. He shook his head; I'm no storyteller, he thought to himself as his eyes focused on the cute gnomish woman that was sitting near the fire.

He couldn't be sure from this distance, but he thought he saw glint on her neck from the firelight, like what might be caused by scales. Fueled by his curiosity, he made his way to the table, offering a cursory nod to the boy who held no interest to him, and then turned to the gnomish woman who he could now clearly see had red dragon scales on the back of her neck. "Good morning, I'm Sularius, may I join you?" he asked as he motioned to one of the chairs.

I figured on 18 perception check was good enough to notice the scales...if not, let me know

15:35, Today: Sularius Alariel rolled 18 using 1d20+7 with rolls of 11.  Perception.

What can be described as one of the most beautiful of elves just walked through the entrance of The Wizard's Grace. Her long semi-wavy red hair went to the small of her back, and was think and silky smooth. She was elegant, tall, and gorgeous as if she was chiseled straight from Shelyn's bosom herself. Considering her mother was the head of the artisan guild, and thus Shelyn's church in Breachill, that thought wasn't far fetched.

There was her trusty black cat, Jasmine, wrapped around her neck. Suddenly the small feline jumped from her shoulder and scurried over to the bar.

"Don't cause any problems Jasmine." Yala would slowly make her way over towards the fire where the gnome, Sularius, and the other gentlemen are sitting. Offering them a smile. "So...yeah, can I sit with you guys?" Even her voice was soft, serene, gentle on the ears to hear.

"I won't!" The black cat called back as it leaped onto the bar at one end. Which would likely be odd, if the girl and her talking feline weren't natives to here. Wait, talking feline? "Mrow! ...bowl of milk please?"

Some people make an entrance, some people just walk in the door.

After Yalandlara's entrance, the next elf to appear on the scene can only "walk in the door."  She's tallish and thin, with whatever curves she possesses buried under layers of cloth and gear, but there is a glow to her skin and a warmth to her eyes that make her feel approachable--the girl next door or a kind older sister.

She goes right to the bartender and places her order, "A mug of ale to quaff, and a bottle of wine to share, and Cailean's blessings be upon you and those who take your fare."

That was odd.  Usually the rhyme is "and another mug to share".

And so saying sits down near the end of the bar, leaving the stool on the very end open to whomever wanted to speak to her.  After receiving her order, she raises her cup high and downs the ale in a few quick swallows, AH!! Okay, now I'm ready for confessions! Come one, come all!  The Accidental God needs no pew or booth!  Just an open stool and a friendly ear.  No judgement in these hallowed halls, just us baptizing our sorrows in alcohol!"

The place was becoming more and more crowded, which made a large man like Maerk feel more and more cramped. He shifted uncomfortably, heard the bench groan in protest, and decided to inquire about the sellsword's dagger.

"Much pretty this knife, you find or spoil of war? Many spoils has Maerk taken, but Maerk now have not much. Maerk will win the choose. You go choose?"

Nezaglomie notices the strangers attention right away.  She could hear her mother's voice in her head, He's just another boy hoping to be with you.  With Za's natural beauty, she certainly had no shortage of boys, and even adult gnomes, making such attempts, but this was a big and she wasn't quite sure how to act.

The man walks directly to her table,  "Good morning, I'm Sularius, may I join you?" he asks as he motions to one of the chairs.

"Of course, please, ummm, sir," Nezaglomie responds, somewhat unsure how to answer.  He used a familiar form right away, as if we knew each other.  Maybe he is a barbarian. "I am called Nezaglomie.  It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Za is just working up the courage to ask the man whether he was here for the Event when a stunningly beautiful elf enters the publick house, drawing all eyes to her.  As the woman approaches with her lovely black kitty wrapped around her neck, Za relaxes a bit.  Ahh, an elf, probably a wizard with that familiar.  Surely she is someone who knows the appropriate way to greet a stranger.  I may get some relief, after all, from the brain-damaged man and the barbarian.  The gnome brightens with a welcoming smile and hopes the elf will join this table.

After speaking quietly to her cat, the lovely woman approaches.  "So...yeah, can I sit with you guys?" Her voice is soft, serene, quite gentle, but her phrasing, her overly-familiar tone, her use of the word 'guys' (!?!) is terribly jarring.  As if I am not even here!

"Please, lady," Nezaglomie manages through slightly clenched teeth.  Are all the bigs so terribly ...  Even within her own mind, the gnome hesitates to use the word 'rude.'
This message was last edited by the player at 14:12, Thu 30 July 2020.

In reply to Maerk (msg # 13):

The silent swordsman looks up from his knife and stares at Maerk for a second. With one gloved hand he rubs it quickly along the side of the knife and the blade bursts into flames. The tongues of the fire lick at his hand but he doesn't seem to notice it. With his free hand he rubs it along the side of the knife and it extinguishes again.

"Yeah...I'm going to get chosen. You might as well pack up and find another shithole to work out of."

His tone and demeanor had shifted to open hostility after finding out that Maerk was indeed potential competition.

---

In reply to Arnellia (msg # 12):

The old bartender cocks his head in confusion at the mutation of a typical Cayden blessing. With a shrug he turns and fills up a mug with ale and pulls a bottle of wine off the shelf. It is only a few years old and Arnellia doesn't recognize the label but one can't expect a fine wine selection in an isolated town like Breachill.

Sularius nods in thanks to the lovely gnomish woman and takes a seat. He opened his mouth to speak just as a beautiful elven woman approached the table. He stands, waiting for the elf to take a seat, before reclaiming his.

Addressing both of them he smiles broadly and says, "I am Sularius Alariel of Iadara. I am a lorekeeper of my people and seeker of lost mysteries, hopeful to join the Call for Heroes. Are you both here for the Call as well?"

Yarr hears a voice seemingly doing a cat impersonation for some reason, and so he pops his head up from the side of the bar where he was cleaning up the spilled bits to see what manner of weirdo was there near him. Sure enough, right there on the bar is a certain someone's talking cat.

"Gorblimey ifid ain't n 'onest ta gods talkin' whisker warbler! Hail, slinky friend! I dun think the ale slinger 'eard ye, but I've some vittles if ye don't mind 'em. There for me 'ound but he dun mind sharin' or cats. Had a little one imself once name'a Biscuits. Durn thing stole me boat but I'ain' no racist."

OOC: Any decent level of discernment between truth and just spinning tall tales could tell that Yarr neveer actually had his boat stolen by a cat named Biscuits. Though his dog may have had a cat friend named that.

Nezaglomie is still trying to relax her jaws when a flame bursts forth on another table.  A half-elf is holding a flaming blade!  As much as she appreciates the fire magic, the gnome is still surprised that such a thing is tolerated in a public place such as this.

The man called Sularius finally finds his manners, no doubt because of the beautiful -- if crass -- elven woman who has joined them.  He does, at least, have the courtesy to include Za in his attention as he speaks.  I'm just as pretty as she is, after all.  ... only a bit shorter.  The gnome brightens at the complete and formal introduction.  "A lorekeeper?  I had thought ...  nevermind.  You must have some fascinating stories, Sularius Alariel.  I have just completed training in sorcery in my home village of Loxellithan.  I know not of our companion, here, but for myself, yes, I am here for the Call For Heroes, as well.  I do wish you the best of luck in the challenges, and I hope that I represent Loxellithan well."

"I am a cat, not a 'whisker warbler'." The feline stood on it's hind legs, and held up it's front paws as if doing...air quotes? "My name as Jasmine, I am Yalandlara's familiar, she created me." Created...? "I will take that piece of meat right there." The intriguing black feline pointed a paw at a very specific piece of the scraps that was mostly meat.

"Markle...can I have a bowl of milk please. Yala will pay for it like she always does." The feline asked politely once more. Sitting at the end of the bar.
________________________________________________________

Yala would smile to Za, Sularius, and the other gentlemen. "Thank you!" She said happily. "I am Yalandlara Vallindel, of, well, here." She said with a soft smile sheepishly. That means....she IS the daughter of the Shelyn priestess. "I am an Alchemist that specializes in healing. I brew and sell mostly healing potions and the like, and heal others using alchemy instead of magic at my mother's temple since I do not have the divine spark in me."

Before she sits, she would take of the scabbard that contained her long elven curved blade and leaned it against the table. Then took a seat with them. "If either of you ever need healed, let me know and I well help you. Sick, poisoned, whatever." She pointed to a series of vials in a bandoleer along her chest. "I'm here for the Call of Hero's myself."

Every now and then she would glance towards the bar, where a black cat appeared to be talking to Yarr, a goblin. Yes, a talking cat.

Sularius nods to Nezaglomie, "I have been apprenticed as a lorekeeper for nearly a hundred years, so yes, I know many fascinating stories, but alas have none of my own. That is why I am here," he added with a warm smile. And then his brow furrows as if thinking hard about something. "You say sorcerer training? I had surmised as much due to, well, due to your appearance. But I was under the impression that sorcery was more...intuitive than wizardry. I'm curious to know what sort of training is required; is it more to do with controlling the inherent magic already within you?"

He then turns to Yalandlara, "Alchemy? Interesting, and I can imagine having your skills available would be quite advantageous. You mentioned you are from here; I wonder, could you share with as how this 'Call to Heroes' works? There seem to be many here, and I can't imagine there is work enough for all of this. Nezaglomie mentioned challenges of some sort. Is that how the heroes are chosen?"

The bartender scowls and shouts at Yalandlara from across the room.

"Yala, get your blasted cat freak off the bar. I won't be wiping up muddy footprints again."

Markle's reaction is less about the dirt and more about the fact that a talking cat disturbs him to no end. 'Cat's are for purrin', not conversin'' as he would always say.

Yala looked like she was about to answer Sularius when Markle yelled at her about Jasmine, causing her to frown. "Jasmine!"

Suddenly the black cat jumped from the bar, ran across the room and hopped on the table next to the table next to Yala. "I did not cause trouble. I just asked for a bowl of milk." The talking feline whined.

"Jasmine, you know Markle doesn't like you talking." She said, stroking her familiar's fur gently.

Jasmine just laid down. "Sorry." And began licking her paws cleaning them.

She rolled her eyes at Jasmine, then looked towards Sularius. "It can be. I brew a lot of the healing potions for my mothers temple. Sometimes there is enough work, sometimes there isn't. They look for the one's who are more capable to do the task or tasks required through a series of tests or or even something as simple as a list of deeds to show their capabilities in relation to what they are looking to have done."

Yarr had given the bit of meat over to the little cat as requested before it was called away by its 'creator'.

He then requested a mug of milk, and if provided walks over and hands it that cat with simply a tip of the hat to the cat and the table it had addressed, not injecting himself rudely into an ongoing conversation.


Unless stopped he would head out to the stables, plop the scraps down in front of his stabled riding dog, give him some wubbings, and then return to the bar to return the plate, ending up being fairly close to where Arnellia is at the bar through sheer coincidence rather than intent.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:49, Fri 31 July 2020.

"Pretty knife for pretty little man. No, Maerk stay and join the choose for much win."

The big warrior stood, purposely jostling the table. He grinned wickedly, "Much luck pretty man, you will need..."

Maerk paused a moment, almost challenging the half-elf to escalate, before shrugging and turning toward the table of arguing adventurers.

In the distance a bell sounds from the town hall signaling that the call for heroes is about to begin shortly. A small crowd is already milling outside the building, waiting for the appointed time. In all, about 40 townspeople are congregated outside the building, chatting and passing the time until the meeting starts.

Everyone seems to be in a cheery mood and it is clear this is the highlight of the month for when the townsfolk get a brief taste of excitement and adventure vicariously through the applicants. Some locals have brought their children with them to meet any new heroes, and the youngsters are starstruck to meet adventurers who plan to step up to the challenges that might be at hand. Most of the townspeople are attending the meeting to keep up on the news of what troubles their neighbors, though some are specifically there out of curiosity to see which adventurers might step up.

While most of the townsfolk and adventurers waiting are in high spirits, there is a well-dressed goblin pacing right outside of the front doors of the building with a serious look on her face. This studious‑looking goblin has her hands clasped behind her back, and she’s mumbling to herself, oblivious to all those who stand nearby.

"My Bumblebrashers," she laments in a distraught tone. "Why haven’t I heard from my Bumblebrashers? Are my people trapped in the citadel?"

Tarindlara is waiting with the others, a vision of beauty weaving gracefully through the crowds of townspeople. When she sees Yalandlara she waves excited, rushing over to give her daughter a big hug.

"So this is it, is it? Are you really going to put your name forward to the Call?"

Nezaglomie hops down from the stool and heads out of the building to where the applicants are gathering.  She spots the goblin woman pacing outside the front doors and looks upon it with disgust.  Za thinks she recognizes the markings on its clothing, but she is not sure until the creature speaks.  "My Bumblebrashers," it laments in a distraught tone. "Why haven’t I heard from my Bumblebrashers? Are my people trapped in the citadel?"

A small ball of flame appears, almost unbidden, in the gnome's hand, but she resists throwing it.  "Perhaps they are still licking their wounds from your failed attempt to attack Loxellithan last month," she spits out.  "Just go back to Citadel Altaerein and continue to play at being Hellknights.  Or just return to eating your own young and leave civilized people alone."

The crowd gasps as the gnome expresses her hostility and the goblin sputters and stutters.

"But...but that wasn't us! That isn't us! We're peaceful!"

Several in the crowd look on with horror at Nez's bigotry and violent threats and a few of the guard start positioning themselves in case they have to intervene in a fight.

With an obvious effort of will, Nezaglomie straightens her fingers and lets the ball of flame dissipate.  She looks up at the guards, who have clearly been put on alert, and slowly lowers her hand to her side, her fingers and arms still rigid with tension.  "Peaceful," she snorts.  "Oh, I'm sure.  And I'll be winning the strong man competition today."

Quivering with rage, Za turns her back on the goblin and strides over to where the other competitors are gathering, standing next to Sularius.  She turns on her heel and looks back at the goblin, her voice filled with venom, "My little cousin, not 5 years old, was killed in a gobble'un raid last year.  WE. NEVER. FOUND. HER. BODY."  The gnome turns away again, her hands in rigid fists at her side, with small flames leaking out from them.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:37, Sun 02 Aug 2020.

Yarr raises his hands in a 'everyone settle down' gesture, speaking to the crowd that seems to be rattled and the guards, "Now, now, boyos and lasses, I'm sure she's got 'er reasons for hatin'. Poor lass might have lost people to bad 'uns. Ah've encountered a few bad eggs of me kind meself. Though the eatin' chilren thing was uncalt fer. I dunno if my kinda dun that in ages."

OOC: Diplomacy 11 (barring any modifiers for a goblin being the one saying to calm down.

Effective or not, Yarr would stride over to Warbal, "Ne'ermin' the poor thing an' try not to 'old it agains' 'er. Wuts this mummblin' about not 'earin' from yer tribe?"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:40, Sun 02 Aug 2020.

She waves excitedly back to her mother, with a smile. "Yes mother. I want to answer the Call this year. I have, wanderlust like you always talked about, and paint. So this is how I want to answer it, by going on an adventure, even if it's just one and done." She answered her mother softly, as she returned her hug. "I may have to borrow a healing kit though if they accept me. I don't have one, and I think I'll have a better chance of getting accepted as a healer since that my skill's."

Then she Lady Warbal's alarming cry, followed Za's rebuke. "Mom, did something happen at the old keep?" As the back and forth continued between Za and Warbal Yala would push away from her mother. "I'll...be back."

Yala walked up to Lady Warbal, and knelt down in front of her. [Language unknown: "Loai res yin Ulthu Ntiwilres? Testr ousatihatsta la itnc Ngolniasereean?"]

She then looked back towards Za. "The goblin's around here are peaceful, have been for some time. We in Breachill even trade with them. So you may want to start building up your strength, or have a lot of coin in your pocket to pay off any competitor's, because she speak's the truth."

Nezaglomie, with tears streaming down her face, silently locks eyes with Yalandlara.  The gnome's expression is unreadable, but the clench of her jaw is unmistakable -- some strong emotions are coursing through her.  Perhaps she doesn't even know what those emotions are, exactly.

"Za, come, meat Lady Warbal for yourself." She said softly, she said softly to Nexaglomie holding her hand out to her. "You will find she is not like the one's you've met, and that she herself even denounces them and denounces violence."

Warbal seems happy to talk to anyone other than the gnome glaring at her from across the plaza.

"I live in town to help talk between my tribe and the town. Typically, every two weeks I meet with Helba, the tribe’s chieftain, on the road outside the keep. We discuss news, and I convey the town’s interests and hear any concerns that the tribe might wish me to bring before the council. It is a relationship of utmost importance, and Helba is normally punctual. But she has missed our previous two meetings, and I have seen plumes of smoke coming from the top of the citadel. The smoke is a chalky red in color—the tribe’s traditional color of distress.

I fear that the Bumblebrashers are in danger, or that something dire has befallen them. It has sickened me with worry."

She looks over and points and sure enough there is smoke rising up from the faint outline of the citadel. The color is definitely debatable at this distance as it seems more white than red but that could just be the distance involved.

Having exited the tavern along with everyone else, Sularius had been witness to the pleas from the goblin as well as the gnomish woman's blatant hostility towards the creature. While he could completely understand the gnome's reaction, he knew more than a few stories that matched her own experience, he had to doubt a goblin as articulate as this one would be part of such activities.

But it wasn't the confrontation that caught his attention, or even the topic of the goblins themselves; no, it was mention of the Citadel. He moved closer to listen to the goblin woman, and nodded his head in agreement, "Yes, that is quite disconcerting. We should form a party to investigate the situation at the Citadel at once."

Warbal nodded.

"Yes, yes that's why I'm here. I'm not the only one with problems though so it will be up to the council to decide who gets to go but I hope someone like you who cares gets picked...you know...as opposed to..."

The goblin's eyes drifted over in the direction of the angry gnome next to Sularius.

"Ah dunneed a council te tell me I can answer a call to adventure when good'n'peaceful folks er clear in danger. If ther' sig'ling fer 'elp I'm of a mind to march o'er there and see wut the mess is about. A fine lass'r two is bound to be grateful up there if ah save 'em and that be plenty incentive."

He turns to Sularius, "If'n yer 'eadin' that way ye'll 'ave me sword fer 'elp. It's nah a pretty thing, but the same canna be said for me skills wid it. Those be prettier than even ma face and that be saying a lot."

Yarr smirks, "I canna call meself a 'venturer if I dun have the sauce fer derring-do and savin' good folk na canna? The council can sort the coin later."

That second bit is said clearly in a tone and at a volume to gently prod others into joining the party in the quest.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:19, Mon 03 Aug 2020.

A thin half-elven woman with long blonde hair looks down at Yarr nervously. She clears her voice to get his attention.

”Uhhh, nobody is doubting your...uh...adventurous spirit....uh...noble...goblin, but that isn’t how it works around here. The council vets and grants adventurers the authority to do...well...adventuring....in these parts. While we...the people of Breachill...are...uh....very thankful for the services your noble...kind...provide things can also get...uh...a bit...well...chaotic if it’s not done properly.”

The nervous woman seemed to instantly regret calling attention to herself, looking around pleadingly for another townsfolk to back her up. She seemed very uncomfortable suddenly being the center of attention.

Luckily for the nervous woman the elven beauty dressed in the regalia of Shelyn was there to her rescue. With a voice as soft and smooth as silk and light as the morning dew Tarindlara smiled at Yarr and took over.

”What Voz is trying to say is that there have been problems in the past where adventuring companies have come into conflict over who has the right to explore and scavenge what ruins or fight which monsters or bandits. We want the adventurers to be focused on fighting the evils around us, not one another. So please respect our custom and honor our wishes by listening to the council. You will get a chance to make your credentials known and they, in their wisdom, will assign the adventurers out to the missions best suited for their abilities. This way everyone wins and nobody has grounds to come into conflict with one another.

Mighty goblin, I am sure your sword will be needed and the council will send you on a worthy quest.”

"Thank you..." Arnellia says with a gentle smile, then leans in to whisper, "between you and me, I'm still kind of new at this...and I prefer the taste of wine."

She giggles...sharing secrets was fun, and wow that was quick.  Usually she could have at least two or three drinks before getting all giggly.  Maybe she should have ordered some food as well.

She was about to ask for some stew, when she realized the bar was empty.  And realized that she should be out there too.   Sheepishly, she wandered out to see what the fuss was about (bottle of wine in tow).

She nudges the pretty elf with the cat, "Hey...what's going on?  What'd I miss?"

"Then we will see to it that your pleas get heard at the council chamber's Miss Warbel. I'm sure they will send someone to investigate." Yala said with a small nod to her. "So, lift your head and have hope. Okay?"

Nezaglomie looks with disbelief at the beautiful elf woman's invitation.  Come meet Lady Warbal ... As if she were a regular person.  And this elf calling me 'Za' like we were siblings.  The world is filled with more strange things than I had imagined when I left our little village.  I expected strangeness to take the form of bizarre monsters, crazed out-worldly things, but instead it is elves who have lost their sense.

The gnome is still trying to wipe the tears of anger from her face when someone hands her a handkerchief.  She accepts it gladly, not even seeing who had handed it to her.  She notices that it has some bits of ... something? ... stew, perhaps, on it, so she subtly casts Prestidigitation to clean it before wiping her face.  When she is finished with it, she casts the spell again and looks around to see to whom to return it, but she sees no one looking at her expectantly.

The huge Ulfen warrior gave the half-elf another hard glare and exited the Inn with the rest of the crowd. As Taldane was not his native tongue, and there being many different accents represented among the forming throng, Maerk only caught about every third word... enough to get the general meaning of things, but sometimes feelings got lost in translation in the big man's mind.

He looked the little gnome over with a dubious expression. "No." he said finally, "Maerk will win strong conn-tes." It was a statement of fact, exhibiting not the least braggadocio, only a firm confidence. The Ulfen people loved all forms of competition, especially the physical, and Maerk was certain that he'd win any such contest due to the fact that he was a good head taller than most everyone else he'd seen in town thus far.

He wasn't sure why the gnome was crying, nor what the conflict was with the she-goblin, but there was something about brush-fires and red smoke, and in the big man's experience that meant something was wrong in yonder ruin.

When the swarthy little goblin chap spoke up, Maerk's face broke into something of a grin, revealing several chipped and broken teeth. Life among the Ulfen was anything but gentle, and a career as a mercenary from the age of manhood only added to the tally of physical scars.

"We fight brush-fires, then make choose?" he asked the beautiful elven woman who had spoken, for it made sense to him to solve the immediate problem before the contests began.

He glanced at the gnome and made a crushing motion with his hands, followed by a subtle nod. The gesture might well convey that Maerk didn't really have a grasp on the social implications of the situation.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:18, Mon 03 Aug 2020.

Just then another bell sounds and the guards open the double doors leading to the great hall. A stern, dark-haired woman with a deeply furrowed forehead and kind eyes in rather fancy robes was standing in the threshold and spoke to the assembled crowd.


"Mage's blessing be upon you all! It is time, once again, for the Call of Heroes. Please enter and be seated!"

The crowd gives a shout of "mage's blessing upon you" and everyone turns to enter and be seated while the children run off to play.

---

The woman leads the crowd into the town hall and to the council chamber, the entrance
of which is just past the main hallway. A few guards are stationed at the entrance but they don't appear particularly attentive, instead smiling and chatting with their friends and family as they pass on by. This seems to be the general attitude of the local guard which speaks volumes towards the overall safety and sanctuary that is Brachill.

The room is set up like a large auditorium, nearly 100' x 150' in size. A carpeted walkway runs down the middle separating several rows of benches into two sections. The carpet leads to a small set of steps and a raised dais. On the dais is a large desk separated into five parts, where the Breachill Town Council’s five members are seated, talking quietly with one another as they wait for the meeting to start. The woman who led the way takes her place at the middle of the table.

On the desk, situated in front of each chair, are tarnished bronze plaques bearing the names
of the council members. From east to west, the names are Jorsk Hinterclaw, Melma Ann Sendari, Greta Gardania, Trini Sprizzlegig, and Quentino Posandi. Melma, Greta, and Quentino are humans, Jorsk is a dwarf, and Trini is a gnome.

There are several minutes of commotions as those entering find seats and get comfortable. A few townsfolk go up to the dais to have a few words with a councilor before the meeting starts in earnest.

---

With a sharp rap from her gavel onto the desk, the woman who led the processional and whose plaque identified her as Greta, brought the crowd to a hush.

"Welcome, neighbors and friends..." the dark-haired woman begins, her rich voice washing over the room, "...to the Breachill Town Council’s monthly Call for Heroes. I am Council President Greta Gardania, at your service. On behalf of my colleagues beside me, I promise you all that we will hear and consider today’s petition with the utmost discretion and care. There is no existence without community, as our town charter says.

Before we hear any petitions can those looking to answer the Call of Heroes please stand and make their presence known."

Around the hall a few people stand up. The young man who seemed addled in the head throwing rocks at the fireplace stood up, much to the laughter of the rest of the crowd. The half-elf swordsman who had brandished the fiery dagger stood and so did a group of three and a group of four adventurers respectively, all the ones seen at the tavern earlier.

With a laugh Greta looks down at the young man.

"The council acknowledges Jarmin, the mighty. I'm sorry but I don't think we have anything for a knight of your caliber today, Jarmin."

The young man laughs along with the rest of the crowd and sits down, grinning from ear to ear.

Greta nods towards the trio adventurers, the tiefling, half-elf, and dwarf who had been stabbing the table with knives.

"The council recognizes the Company of Rend. Welcome back."

The tiefling raises a hand in a theatrical display triggering sparks and flashes of magic in the air.

"Always happy to help."

The councilor turns towards the quartet who seem to be struggling to keep the goblin from jumping out of his seat and talking. Both the human and gnome have their hands clamped over his mouth.

"The council recognizes the Heroes of Kreed..."

Before she can continue the goblin wiggles free and starts screaming.

"No! We're the Nobby Knights! The Nobby Knights!"" but the rest of his protests are silenced as the other three all clamp down on him. The councilor just laughs and nods.

"Of course, Sir Nobby. No matter your name this month, your heroics precede you."

She glances at the swordsmen as well as the remaining adventurers...OOC: I.e. you guys and smiles.

"And for those who we have not yet met we welcome you and thank you for answering our call. For petitions we have four today. Citizens, if you would please proceed."

A farmer from the the north stands up and approaches the front of the room, hat in hand. He turns and nervously addresses the crowd.

"Aye everyone. I'm Lorki, as you know. I run a farm up North. We grow turnips mostly. Some grains but really its turnip soil. I tried telling that to the missus but she insists we try...oh yeah nevermind that. Anyway my route to the market passes by the old outpost up there and it seems something sinister's moved in. Bandits by the look of them. Maybe a dozen, maybe more. Look to be up to no good that."

He goes on to explain the shadowy figures he saw and the councilors take a moment to confer before Greta bangs her gavel.

"Company of Rend, I believe bandit hunting is your specialty, is it not?"

The tiefling gives a smile and as deep a bow as the tight benches would allow.

"Of course. It would be our pleasure. The standard rate then?"

The councilor nods and bangs her gavel. The three adventurers depart with the farmer and the next petitioner steps up. This one looks to be a merchant and she speaks with much more confidence than the farmer before her.

"Greetings one and all. For those who do not know I am Tilaxis, owner of Traveling Tilaxis' Tinctures and Tonics. I was traveling from the West and made camp near the elven ruins about twelve miles down the road. Normally we never have any trouble there but that night something came out of the ruins and killed two of my guards before dragging the bodies down into the depths."

She turned to speak to the Heroes of Kreed.

"Do you remember that room in the back with all the totems in it? We followed the blood trail and something had dug up through the floor. Turns out there's some kind of secret tunnel leading to the caverns, possibly even as deep as the Darklands."

The four all looked at one another and even the goblin shut up. All four then turned to look at the councilor who nodded and banged her gavel.

"Heroes of Kreed...I mean the Nobby Knights. You chased out that orc tribe from there in the winter so you are obviously familiar with it. It is important to find out what new threat might have risen up from the depth. We will offer the standard rate for exploration: 10 gold pieces if you can recover the bodies of the dead guards so they may be buried in peace and 10 gold pieces if you can slay whatever it is that attacked them."

The Heroes all smile and nod before departing with the merchant.

"Our third petitioner is Miss Warbal, our very own ambassador to the Bumblebrashers of Hellknight Hill. Please step forward and address those still gathered."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:24, Mon 03 Aug 2020.

At this summons, Warbal emerges from the front row of benches. The well-dressed goblin woman makes her way to the foot of the dais's steps. She clears her throat and begins her address to the council and the gathered town.

"Uhhh...Mage's blessings upon you. Yes. yes. Right. Esteemed councilors," she speaks in a frazzled tone. "It has been more than a month since I’ve been able to contact the Bumblebrashers. I fear that something terrible has befallen them. What's more, I have seen my people's distress signal coming from the top of the Citadel and I fear the worst has befallen them. As you know...on occasion...the ruins become home to some less than desirable inhabitants. Please I ask for a party to be sent to discover the source of their distress and the reason why they have not met with me for so many weeks. Ummm...that is all. Thank you."

The goblin nervously bows to the councilors and the townsfolk repeatedly, bobbing up and down like a buoy in stormy waters before making her way back to her seat.

Greta waves her hand to sweep across the adventurers yet unassigned before speaking.

"As we are not familiar with any of you, please introduce yourselves and let the council know about any of your deeds or heroics so we might judge the caliber of hero before us."

The swordsman speaks up immediately, casting a baleful glare at the rest of the adventurers.

"I am Vesinius, I have killed sixty men...and I work alone."

Yarr bows respectfully, "Ah be, Yarr the Hearty. As good with a sword as any here if not better then some. Ah've personal interest in the plights o' good goblinfolk an' they'd likely be comforted bah one 'er their own comin' and not make hasty misjudgins like if'n you sent some unsociable fella by 'imself."

He doesn't even regard or motion at the broody half-elf as he says that. He even speaks it so matter of factly the tone doesn't even sound like a jab at anyone.

Yarr instead motions over to Sularius, "That fella right there be a good 'un. When we ov'rheard her troubles earlier 'e was among the first to volunteer. 'sgood as any a mark o' worthiness I'd say. I'd like to take 'em with if'n you do the sensible thing an' send me."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:42, Mon 03 Aug 2020.

Yalandlara steps forward to address the council. "As many of you know I am Yalandlara Vallindel, daughter of Tarindlara Vallindel. I am a capable alchemist and healer, having seen to the healing of many sick and injured through alchemical potions as well as standard healing practices. I am also a very capable swordswoman."

Nezaglomie looks around nervously.  They want us to go rescue these goblins?  What, so they can raid and murder some more?  Well, I came here to find secrets, and that augury said that I had to win a place at the Call for Heroes if I was going to do so.  Maybe if I join, I can keep them from being duped by this obvious trap the goblins have laid.  Well, of all the people to speak, the goblin was the only one to follow the formalities.  Maybe ...

She steps forward, "Honored Council members, Mage's blessings upon you.  I am Nezaglomie of Loxellithan.  I have no heroics to claim, nor have I ever killed anyone, but I have recently completed sorcerer training and am ready to apply my skills to righting the wrongs in the world."  In her own mind only, she continues, If righting those wrongs means exposing this fraud, this so-called peaceful gobble'un, so be it.  "I hope that you will consider me worthy.  Thank you for your time."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:49, Mon 03 Aug 2020.

Arnellia looked around and realized it was her turn, "Ah right..."

Okay Nellie, just like you practiced.

"Salutations. Sister Arnellia of the Drunken Brothers, Cleric to Cayden Cailean, and part time arcane scholar, at your service.  The Drunken God demands deeds of arms as part of his worship, and so here I am to make him proud.  This may be my first stint as an adventurer, but by his cup and sword, it won't be your last."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:07, Mon 03 Aug 2020.

The huge warrior had been standing already, near the rear of the hall. His armor was worn, the large, round shield on his back dented and scarred, his helm stained with rust or blood or both. The longsword at his waist was worn as well, probably in need of a good re-forging, the wrappings of the hilt frayed and stained with sweat and gore. His furs were shabby, a further sign he'd been long from his homeland, for the Ulfen took care to keep up their appearances despite their practical and warlike nature. His beard was braided as was his long, blonde hair, with bits of bone and seashell as decoration. From beneath a fearsome brow, the gaze of two sky-blue eyes pierced any who dared stare in his direction. And of course there was with him the distinct smell of his people, a mixture of tanned furs, sea spray, six months since a yearly bathing, and dried blood... always the latter.

He was a man of few words, at least in the Taldane language, and had little to say. He'd been expecting this Call for Heroes to be more of a physical challenge, a test of skill, not a bunch of elf-speak and flowery talk. No he wasn't about to lower himself to that!

He took one step forward, chainmail ringing slightly. Reaching into a satchel at his waist, he pulled out two apples. One he stuffed, in its entirety, into his mouth, chewed slowly three or four times, and then swallowed loudly. The second he held in the palm of his hand, his huge fingers wrapping all the way around it. He slowly began to squeeze until the fruit burst in a spray of juice and pulp. He snorted and tossed the core in the direction of the annoying half-elf.

"Maerk is Maerk!" he boomed. "Son of Ghael the Gorehand."

He looked around the room, making eye contact with each of the council. "Was Child-ren of Steel shield warrior, but no more." Having invoked the name of a very infamous and ruthless mercenary band, he wondered at the reaction it would invoke.

He paused a very long moment as if waiting for anyone, perhaps the half-elf, to dispute or challenge him, then he stepped back against the wall with his massive arms folded across his broad chest.

Before any more heroes can begin their introductions, the door on the western side of the room flies open, as a young man, his eyes wide with panic, runs in shouting and waving his ink-stained hands. Billowing black smoke and flames follow him into the room: "Fire! There’s a fire! Everyone flee!"

Through the open door the fire jumps into the chamber igniting the whole area by the Western door. The councilors begin moving down off the dais and shouting for the crowd not to panic. But the spectators are terrified; they scream, jump up from their benches, and try to jostle toward an exit row.

In the unfolding chaos of the fire a snickering little fire mephit slips through the chamber's western door. With a cackle it blows a jet of flame onto the floor igniting even more of the chamber on fire.


OOC: Check the map for reference.

The red highlighted areas are on fire. This fire spreads every turn based on the size of the fire (larger fires spread faster!). A sufficiently large amount of water (i.e. at least a bucketful) will extinguish a 5' square. This can be done via spells or using the Interact action if you have water available. A waterskin is not sufficient however.

Meanwhile in the chaos as people push to the door there is a panicked stampede. Many of the townsfolk are injured, trippping over benches or being accidentally trampled in the confusion. Black smoke pours into the chamber and already some of the older townsfolk are having problems seeing and breathing adding more confusion.

OOC: Townsfolk can be rescued using three Interact actions (one to locate and assess their condition, one to calm them or get them to their feet, one to point them towards the door safely). PCs don't need to walk with them the whole way but must within 30' to interact with them. Farther then that and they can't be heard in the commotion.

Round 1


Legend:
  Blue = PCs
  Red = Enemy Combatants
  Green = Fleeing NPCs
  Aqua = Rescueable townsfolks
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:53, Mon 03 Aug 2020.

Nezaglomie glances at the people panicking.  Fools.  Even while she admires the beauty of the Fire creature, she realizes that the first priority has to be putting it down.  She runs towards it at top speed, planning to attack it as soon as she is in range.  I wonder if this is part of the test, she muses while running.

Stride action three times, moving to G8, if I've calculated correctly.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:59, Mon 03 Aug 2020.

Sularius had read about fire mephits, but had never encountered one himself, and didn't feel he was the best candidate to deal with creature. Instead, he looked around, noting that many of the townsfolk had been unable to escape the building, whether due to injury or perhaps shock.

He decided helping the townsfolk was the best use of his time. He called out to the one closest to the mehpit, "You! Get up, there's no time to dally! Get out of here as quickly as possible! The door is back there! We'll deal with this monster!"

OOC:
Using 3 Interact actions to rescue townsfolk at I5.

OOC: Apologies I forgot to mention the areas with benches are considered difficult terrain.

Nezaglomie charges towards the mephit.

Sularius shouts out to a man who was fumbling at his feet for something that he dropped but with the added urgency he gives it up and heads towards the exit as Sularius instructed.

The mephit cackles and briefly chases after one of the councilors, Quentino, before turning and breathing a gout of fire onto the desk starting another fire.

Round 1 cont.



Legend:
  Blue = PCs
  Red = Enemy Combatants
  Green = Fleeing NPCs
  Aqua = Rescueable townsfolks

"Blast! No time!" Yarr curses and bolts forward, dancing across the benches in his way and up onto the stage.

 He kicks off the desk on a non burning portion and flips over the mephit, bringing a boot down on its head as he comes down, but not finding the full precision he was aiming for.

Fight summun yer own size, ye smoke stinkin' candle wax snortin' son of a lit'ral Pendragon!"

First Action: Stride Forward
Second Action: Tumble Through to other side of it via non burning route rolling 20. If successful gains Panache.
Third Action: If succeeded spend Panache for Confident Finisher, otherwise just strike, rolling 25 to hit and 3 damage, 3 more if finisher was available.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:19, Mon 03 Aug 2020.

Round 1 cont.

OOC: Not enough movement to get to the tumble through.

Yarr bounces up and down across the benches, leaping to the stage and then up onto the desk. With a sudden lash he kicks the mephit and while it doesn't do much damage it certainly gets its attention!







Legend:
  Blue = PCs
  Red = Enemy Combatants
  Green = Fleeing NPCs
  Aqua = Rescueable townsfolks
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:26, Tue 04 Aug 2020.

[Language unknown: "Pl siioti les. N wane iv ut illa anyyinhat inanut ounce."] Yala muttered to herself, as she looked around the room for the briefest of moments then leaped into action.

She would move to I23 to make sure the person at H22 is okay. If they are she will direct them to the exit.

The warrior raised his arm reflexively, falling back on training at the first hint of danger. He snarled at the creature as it burst into the chamber, but it was too far away at the moment to do much about.

Maerk turned to find his way toward the front of the hall, where he might engage the creature, but noticed there were several people either too frightened to move or else somehow incapacitated. He barked at a pair of the fleeing attendees to help the person next to them (M24). "GRAB HIM! YOU TAKE!"

Maerk grabbed the next person he could see that needed help and threw the man over his shoulder like a sack of wheat, striding quickly toward the door where he handed him off to others helping to flee the scene.

The warrior then turned back and went deeper into the hall.


Move toward isle, three actions to help P25, intent is to work his way toward the mephit, helping others along the way.

Arnellia marvelled at how quickly all this went to shit.

"Quit the mess..." she murmured, years of discipline lending her a unflappable air in the face of danger, "You alright over there?"

She set to work on getting the nearest person on their feet.  The fire itself wasn't going to be resolved by her.

Move to M11 and 3-action help the Civilian at M10

I really miss 5E's "shape water" cantrip.  A five foot cube of water sounds really nice right now

Arnellia, Maerk, and Yala move slightly closer to the stage and check on townsfolk and while people are getting moving they're still not moving with enough urgency.

Townsfolk rush out of the hall. At the lead is the swordsmen Vesinius who somehow managed to be right at the front of the escape. Either his reflexes were lightning fast or he anticipated making a hasty exit.

The fires start to spread, both on the desk and at the back of the room starting to climb up and lick at the stage.

---

Round 2
The chamber's northern doors fly open and another fire mephit appears along with a burst of fire that engulfs the northern end of the chamber.






Legend:
  Blue = PCs
  Red = Enemy Combatants
  Green = Fleeing NPCs
  Aqua = Rescueable townsfolks

(OOC: Assuming the mephit I'm next to is alive after the previously insinuated Telekinetic Projectile)

Yarr wobbles a bit from the incoming projectiles and the mephit's assault but he's made of sterner stuff. He jabs at the thing, but the critter is too sharp to fall for a basic feint, so Yarr thinks quickly, spotting the writing tools on the desk under him.

"Ye dropped yer ****, book imp!"

Yarr kicks the pen and ink pot into the mephit, knocking it off balance and lunges in with another kick, 'completely intentionally' kicking just in the perfect way where the kick drives the pen into the imp's ribs like a knife.

He is briefly taken aback (totally not by the pen doing that, that was totally what he meant to do), before quipping, "'Ave it back!"

---

1st Action: Attempt Feint, Roll 10 vs Perception DC. That probably fails.
2nd Action: Assuming that failed Attempt Feint Again, Rolling 15 vs P DC.
+ If successful Panache is gained and it's flat-footed vs my next attack.
3rd Action: If Panache gained Confident Finisher, otherwise normal strike. Rolled 23 to hit, Damage 5 if not Finisher. Damage 13 if I got Panache and could make it a Finisher.

(OOC: If that second Feint also failed, ignore the pen stab thing. That was just to apply finisher damage creatively.)

---
This message was last edited by the player at 19:11, Wed 05 Aug 2020.

Action 1:  True Strike  Actions 2-3: Telekinetic Projectile

16:22, Today: Nezaglomie rolled 17,6,6 using d20+4,d20+4,d6+4.  True Striked Telekinetic Projectile on Mephit #1
Hits AC 17 for 6 damage.

Nezaglomie looks with a bit of surprise at the goblin rushing in to deal with the Fire Mephit.  At least the little creep knows that step one is to stop the source of the trouble.  Za casts True Strike; and the spell gives her a tiny insight into the future.  She can see two paths the mephit might take, but the second fades into non-existence.  Spotting a nice, heavy wooden blotter on the far edge of the desk, the sorcerer grabs it with her mind through the use of the cantrip Telekinetic Projectile.  She swings it up to get some speed, then crashes it down on the true path of the mephit, hitting the creature soundly.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:49, Wed 05 Aug 2020.

With a second mephit, and now two fires spreading, Sularius knows there's little time to lose in getting all of the townsfolk out of the building. He yells out to another, "Hey, you! I know you're scared, but you have to get up and get the hell out of here! Run to the back and get out!"

OOC:
Using 3 Interact actions to rescue townsfolk at J7.

"Stop dallying, the door's that way, go now!" She points the door out to the person in H22 so that they get moving.

"You! What are you doing? Get going!" She gets the persons attention behind her and starts to try and direct them to the door.

[OOC: That should be the 3rd interact for the person at H22, and 2 towards the person at J24.

BTW I'm supposed to be at I23 aren't I?]

OOC: Assuming there's a door to the east. I must have missed that, thought the only door was to the south.

"Move!" Maerk barked, his voice taking on the tone of a mercenary commander. Someone's feelings meant nothing to him, he could care less if he upset someone... his focus was on results, the quicker the better.

A1: Finish motivating P25

He adjusted his shield, holding the grips tightly and pulling the straps to tighten them to his massive forearm.

A2: Interact to equip shield

Maerk glanced up and noticed that the pretty elven woman was having a bit of trouble getting folks to act.

"Listen her!" he barked. "Get up and go!"

A3: Finish motivating Yalandlara's J24.

Round 2
Nez envisions firing a blotter at the mephit catching it as it tries to dodge.

Sularius gets a confused townie to get moving and they start making their way towards the exit.

The fire mephit snarls at the goblin under the desk. It takes a deep breath and then suddenly belches out a gout of flames.
OOC: DC 17 reflex save or take 6 fire this turn and 1 fire persistent damage next turn.

While Yarr is blinded by the fire the mephit lunges forward and bites Yarr right on his pointy goblin nose!

OOC: Critical hit. Yarr takes 16 damage (12 crushing, 4 fire) from the attack

Yarr responds by juking left and then juking right. The mephit ignores the first but falls for the second. With this opening Yarr kills the mephit with an epic finisher.

Arnellia creeps closer to the front of the room with the fire and the mephits while finishing pointing a townie to the exit.

Maerk finishes rescuing a townie and moves to the south.
OOC: I'm really confused by your movement. First of all benches count as difficult terrain (+5' per square moved) so you can't reach P25 with a single Stride. Second of all as mentioned you only have to be within 30' of a townie to rescue them, you don't have to be next to them. Finally there is not a door to the east. All the doors are visible on the map (although the north and west ones are currently on fire). I tried to get you as close as I could to P25 but I figured you would want to get out of the difficult terrain benches instead of moving into the middle of them, especially if you're equipping a shield. I think there's been some miscommunication so if you want to redo your movement just let me know and we can redo it next round. You started out as L28 so you could, for example, finish rescuing P24 and then double stride North to the front of the room and end up at like F27. (climbing up onto the stage costs +5' movement as well).


Yalandlara gets one of her fellow townies up to their feet but turns around and finds another with their foot caught on the bench. Bending over she starts to help get him untangled.
OOC: IIRC you were 5' short because benches.

The newly arrived fire mephit glances around (and doesn't see Yarr under the table) and then turns to the fleeing council members. It breaths a gout of flame that singes the robes of Quentino who yelps in pain and fear.

Meanwhile more townsfolk continue to flee out the door, about a quarter of those assembled seem to have made it to safety but there are still a lot of people in the room. It is starting to get a little difficult to see as smoke from the fires starts accumulating in the air.

The fires meanwhile start to expand, growing as they consume more of the wooden building.





Legend:
  Blue = PCs
  Red = Enemy Combatants
  Green = Fleeing NPCs
  Aqua = Rescueable townsfolks

Nezaglomie winces as she sees the Flame Mephit smack hard into the goblin's face.  She is forced to acknowledge that the little monster shows uncommon courage as he takes the hit but keeps his head enough to finish the thing off.  One down, one to go.  She turns and runs towards the other mephit, stopping once she is in range and she covers two of the elders who are, finally, fleeing.  If it turns this way, I might be facing its flame attack.  Well, this will help.  The sorcerer reaches above her head and she screams a note of triumph and agony as her hands form into miniature dragon claws.

Moving to E18 with two stride actions, then using the last action to cast Dragon Claws https://pf2.d20pfsrd.com/class...Dragon_Claws_Focus_1 which is a one-action spell.  I don't actually plan to fight that way unless I have to, but having them out enhances my dragon scales, giving me fire resistance of 5.

Edit:  I guess I don't have the ability to make well-formed links.

This message was last edited by the player at 20:24, Thu 06 Aug 2020.

With the townsfolk closest to the fire encouraged to flee, Sularius pulls out his bow and fires two arrows at the surviving mephit, sadly missing both times.

Action: Interact to draw shortow
Action: Fire shortbow; hit AC: 14
Action Fire shortbow; hit AC: 5

Note, I did take the -2 penalty for range into account, but forgot the -5 penalty for the second shot in the dice roller.

15:20, Today: Sularius Alariel rolled 14 using 1d20+5 with rolls of 9.  Shoot Mephit.
15:20, Today: Sularius Alariel rolled 10 using 1d20+5 with rolls of 5.  Shoot Mephit.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:27, Thu 06 Aug 2020.

Yarr hurries from under the table and moves closer to the group, clearly badly wounded but trying to keep a brave face on. He pulls out his sling, which has a bullet already loaded before he folded it up neatly and pocketed it originally. However, the thing's apparently tricky to hit. The bullet whizzes by, missing a wing as it flaps out of the way.

"Tell 'em to form a bucket line! Run it in alon' the left wall! We kin protect 'em! And sommon heal me or kill it!"

1st Action - Stride to F-13
2nd Action - Draw Sling
3rd Action - Fire at Mephit #2 rolling 15, miss.

"You!" Yala yells, pointing to the civilian at J29. "What are you doing? Stop dallying and get out of here!"

[ooc: Spend 3 action to get the civi at J29 out of here.]

The warrior watched a moment as the councilfolk fled from the fire-monster. He would have to get to them in a moment, for there were folk still overcome and not moving toward the door. Maerk lifted one onto his feet as he passed by.

"Go to wall, follow wall to door!" he instructed.



[Assuming DM goes for Maerk starting at L29]

A1,A2,A3: Admonish townie at N29

Next turn will likely draw his sword and charge if mephit is close enough. Posting this now so that everyone knows my intentions. Obviously subject to change due to circumstances.

Nezaglomie heads up to the stage and her hands form into dragon claws.

Sularius draws his bow and begins firing but his aim is off due to the smoke and glare from the fire.

Yarr flings a stone at the mephit but misses.
OOC: Who are you talking to?

Arenellia gets another townsfolk to their feet and fleeing.

Maerk gets a townie up and to their feet.

Yalandalara gets her friend up and to their feet and pointed at the door.

The mephit grins, moves down and exhales a gout of flames at Nez and the councilors. Jorsk, the dwarf is low enough that he can duck out of the way but Melma catches the blast on her back and it lights her robe on fire. Meanwhile the flames wash harmlessly over Nez, her scales glowing red as they absorb the heat harmlessly.

Townies continue to flee out the door. Almost half of the room has evacuated and most of the townsfolk are running towards the exit but there are still a few who have stopped and are now choking and coughing on the smoke.

The fires continue to grow as the stage and desks are set on fire. Thick black smoke is filling the air making it difficult to see to the other side of the room. Everyone still inside is coughing and their eyes are watering as the smoke stings it. The heat is starting to get intense as well where even at the front of the stage it feels like a bonfire.






Legend:
  Blue = PCs
  Red = Enemy Combatants
  Green = Fleeing NPCs
  Aqua = Rescueable townsfolks

OOC: I was shouting that at the group of adventurers shouting instructions at people and that might contain a healer? Or anyone on our side that might form a bucket line or heal me.

Seeing the mephit continuing to assault the civilians, and the racist in distress, Yarr glances down at his wounds... He kicks himself mentally for doing what he is about to do. Thankfully, or perhaps unfortunately, he is immune to mental kick damage.

"Get away from 'er ye toast makin' bread bungler!"

He swiftly hurry's to the lady's side and kicks a hat some citizen must have dropped into it's face, then spins on one foot as he hops up. A devastating spinning jump kick smashes into the hat and into the thing's head, leaving an indent in it's forehead in the shape of a bird from a decorative pin that was on the hat.

1st Action: Stride to E17
2nd Action: Feint, 25 vs Perception DC (succeeding assuming its stats are the same as the other one)
+Panache gained and thing is flat-footed vs my next attack.
3rd Action: Confident Finisher Unarmed. 16 to hit, 12 total damage.

---

If the mephit is dead before my turn, I instead help civilians, staying within the general area of H, I, or J 16.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:13, Fri 07 Aug 2020.

Yala yells to the person at J18. "Hey! Get up and get moving! The entrance is just down that way!" She point it out to him.

[ooc: Looks like they are just at 30' from me if you count diagonals. So three actions to get the townie at J18 moving.]

Nezaglomie falls back on the instincts that her mentor drilled into her, and casts a Shield, but she hopes it is not going to be needed.  She glanced down to see the inkpot in the desk in front of her, and casts Telekentic Projectile to grab the thing with her mind and throw it into the creature's face.

She secretly hopes that the ink will improve its effectiveness against the flame monster, but rather doubts that it is enough liquid to matter.  Unfortunately, with the monster so close, she shakes slightly with nerves and the bottle crashes harmlessly against the chair.

18:26, Today: Nezaglomie rolled 12,10 using d20+4,d6+4.  TK projectile on Flame Mephit #2

This message was last edited by the player at 23:29, Fri 07 Aug 2020.

Well, this was getting bad fast.

If she had any idea how to put out the fire, she'd be doing that.  Bereft of that option, she still focuses on rescue.  The mephit itself was small potatoes compared to those two other worries.

OOC: Move to K13 and use three actions to get civilian at K14 moving.

Maerk coughed as the smoke began to burn his lungs. The usual advantages he enjoyed being at least a head taller than everyone else were now a detriment to him as the thick blackness began to fill the hall. He hunkered down a bit, focusing on the glow of the mephit. With a roar, he raised his shield and raced in that direction!


A1: Stride 25' to G28
A2: Stride 25' to E24
A3: Raise Shield (AC20)

Sularius calls out to the one person still in front of him, "Hey, this isn't a show, the building is going to burn down! Get the hell out of here now!"

OOC:
Using 3 Interact actions to rescue townsfolk at L5.

Round 4

Nez fires another TK shot but misses.

Sularius gets another townie up to their feet and pointed in the right direction.

Yarr cleans the clock of the remaining mephit but it is still flapping around. Meanwhile as far as he can tell nobody is listening to him. The people inside the hall are too busy fighting or fleeing and anyone outside the hall are probably too far away to hear him.

Arnellia gets another townie to their feet.
As mentioned there is no free movement action. You get three actions, one (or more) can be a move.

Maerk charges up to the stage.

Yala gets a townie to their feet and moving towards the door.

The fire mephit begins clawing at the two adventurers in front of it. Nez is hit once while Yarr avoids an attack.
Nez takes 3 crushing and 4 fire damage

It then flaps backwards into the growing flames, cackling as the fires seem to be rapidly healing its wounds.

Townsfolk continue to flee out of the room and the first of the councilors make it to the doorway.

The fire continues to spread, growing larger as it races along the floors and desks.

The smoke is thick and dark in the air, everyone (except for the mephit) is choking on smoke and the heated air starts burning the lungs.

OOC: Nez takes 3 fire damage
Sularius takes 3 fire damage
Yarr takes 3 fire damage
Arenllia takes 1 fire damage
Maerk takes 3 fire damage
Yalandlara takes 6 fire damage


The townsfolk still inside are coughing up and stumbling from the smoke. While all of the active ones are still on their feet several of the councilors who were attacked earlier by the mephit are in really bad shape and it is unclear how much longer the remaining townies are going to be able to stay conscious.

OOC: HP bars are relative HP left as I don't want to track 20+ townies on a tracker like I do below





Legend:
  Blue = PCs
  Red = Enemy Combatants
  Green = Fleeing NPCs
  Aqua = Rescueable townsfolks
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:00, Tue 11 Aug 2020.

"I'll get ye even if they have to pull me from the ashes o this place!"

Yarr hops onto the desk and makes as if he were going to kick it in the crotch, but instead gives it a right cross in the jaw with everything he has.

Breathing heavily he will certainly fall from his wounds any minute.

1st Action: Move one up to Mephit.
2nd Action: Feint 16, if success gain Panache.
3rd Action: Spend Panache to Confident Finish to Hit 15 (will hit if feint succeeded). 12 total damage.

---

OOC: If someone else kills it before my turn I just grab someone that needs help on my way out of the building, calling out for a healer.

Sularius coughs loudly as he can feel the smoke burning his throat. As he turns to get ready to run out of the building, he sees one of the townsfolk apparently in shock. "Hey, c'mon. We can both get out of here alive, but you have to start moving now!"

OOC:
Using 3 Interact actions to rescue townsfolk at Q7.

Yala lets out a few coughs as the smoke starts to finally get to her. "Damnit. Hope mother got out okay." She takes a look arround and spies a person behind her. "Hey, you! Get up and get out of here! This smokes toxic! And there are Fire Mephit's in here! Get to the door back there away from the fire!" She points it out!

[OOC: 3 Interact actions to save the guy at M24.

Which leaves only the one at N18 at the extreme 30' for me unless I move.]

Nezaglomie, in spite of herself, grins at the brave goblin charging into the fray in spite of his wounded face.  Well, it can only be an improvement.

"Oh, no you won't!"  shouts Za as the Mephit flips back into the flames.  She spies another blotter on this desk.  Remember how well the other worked, she quickly casts True Strike and then Telekinetic Projectile, hoping to finish the monster before the flames regenerate it.

20:31, Today: Nezaglomie rolled 7,14,8 using d20+4,d20+4,d6+4.  True Striked Telekinetic Projectile.
AC 14 for 8 damage.  Hmmm.  I don't think that's good enough to hit.  DRAT!

The smoke burned the big man's eyes and lungs. He grunted where normally would have shouted a battle cry, knowing not to waste his breath. He charged forward with his shield held high in order to protect himself somewhat from the flames! He made a sudden sweeping motion with his shield however, intent on crushing the vile little monster!

"Fall back! Maerk will fight!"

A1,A2: Sudden Charge, stride twice [D18] and make a melee attack, should be able to reach the spot even with difficult terrain. Maerk rolled 12 using 1d20+9 ((3)) to hit. Grrr! All I had to do was hit! Dice-roller's gonna get yet another TPK!
A3: Raise Shield (AC20)

Round 5

Nez fires off more TK shots but between the smoke and the mephit dancing around in the fire her shot misses.

Sularius gets another townie to their feet.

Yarr runs forward and finishes off the mephit.

Arnellia strides forward and healing energy flows from her to Yarr across the room.
OOC: Yarr heals 14 damage

Maerk finds that by the time he reaches the front of the room, the fight appears to be already over.
OOC: You can re-do your movement at this point

Yala gets another townie to their feet.

The fire continues to grow and spread. The smoke is thick, hot and choking.
OOC: Nez (doesn't) take 4 fire damage
Sularius takes 6 fire damage
Yarr takes 1 fire damage
Arnellia takes 1 fire damage
Maerk takes 5 fire damage
Yalandlara takes 3 fire damage



The townfolk are also wheezing and coughing and one of them, the councilor Quentino, passes out from the smoke.

OOC: A disabled townsfolk has to be physically dragged to the entrance for safety.

1. One Interact action to grab hold of them
   
2. X number of move actions to get them to the entrance
   
3. One Move action to pull them outside (and a free action to drop them)
   OR
   If you are within 5' of the door you can use one Interact action to hand them to the crowd of people at the entrance on the outside of the room.

Legend:
  Blue = PCs
  Red = Enemy Combatants
  Green = Fleeing NPCs
  Aqua = Rescueable townsfolks

Oh, there it is.  I need to do a hard refresh on the map page to get it to update the map in my browser.
I assume the red and white border means disabled?   You didn't specify any strength qualification on the ability to move a disabled person, but I wouldn't assume that a 2 foot 9 inch gnome with an 8 strength would really be able to do much?  Anyway, I'm going to try, and feel free to say that I don't succeed in moving him.  Also, I'm assuming Quentino is a male -- you said human above, but didn't specify a gender that I saw.

Nezaglomie watches, a bit astonished, as this strange goblin charges in and finishes off the mephit.  A curious little monster, indeed.

She can feel the heat from the flames as no more than a comforting warmth, and she thanks her ancestors for the bit of fire resistance she enjoys.  Wow.  It must really be bad for the others.  I'd better do what I can to help.  She rushes to the fallen councilor, grabs him under the arms, and tries to drag him to the door.

Move action to J17.
Interact action with the Quentino to grab him.
Move action towards the door, as far as I can, possibly as far as O16.
If it is obvious that this is hopeless, then I'll still go to J17 and do two actions worth of interaction to get the person at N18 moving.

This message was last edited by the player at 17:55, Tue 11 Aug 2020.

Sularius couldn't stop coughing and he could feel his lungs burning. He knew he'd be no help to anyone if he passed out in here, so he quickly turned around, jumping over the bench behind him and headed toward the door. Once outside, he quickly takes a look around, taking stock of the situation and calling out, "Hurry, we need to start getting water to put out the fire!"

3 Stride actions to get outside

Yarr perks up immediately and whips around to spot his savior, then assesses the situation and heads back towards the crowd, tipping his hat to the cleric on the away, "Much obliged!"

He then starts to rally one of the still struggling towsfolk, "Come on! Ye can get out of dis! At least get o'er te me and I'll help get gettin'"

OOC: Double Stride to N16, then spend action on M21 townsfolk so that the further in of us can start moving out.

"Crap! Owe, OWE!" She realized that...she was in a bad spot and had spent to much time saving people and may not be able to save herself now. She quickly downed a potion, then began to move to the end on the aisle.

[OOC: 1 Action to take Elixir of Life, Minor from bandolier and drink. 2 Stride actions to move towards I29 and as far south down the 29 column as I can.

Items in bandoliers can be used in the same action that they are drawn.

I get 2 HP back.]

Maerk shied away from the fire, seeing that the odd little goblin had found a way to finish off the fire-creature. He turned his attention toward the exit at the end of the hall, and saw a bit of congestion along the way. With his free hand, he reached down and grabbed the person the gnomish woman was trying desperately to drag.

"Maerk will take!" he choked, and yanked the body toward the door.


Move: Got 75' from last round, 50' this round after the grab, should be able to get to the door and back in a ways, maybe to N17?

Round 6
Of interesting note is that when the mephits were defeated they did not leave behind any bodies, instead they puffed out into magical motes and disappeared entirely.

Nez moves up and begins dragging Quentino towards the exit.

OOC: Quentino wasn't the one at K17 so it took you 2 Stride actions to reach him and 1 Interact action to begin dragging him. To answer your question grey X's means disabled, red X's means dead/defeated.

Sularius heads out through the doors and enjoys a lung-fulls of fresh air. A cool breeze helps beat back the heat coming from the council hall chambers. Crowds have formed down the hallway and out the hall as the 30-some odd townsfolk who escaped are waiting to watch and help anyone who stumbles to the doorway.

Yarr moves down the aisle and grabs the foot of one of the coughing townsfolk to begin dragging them.
OOC: Slight modification. Spending an action to interact with a distant townsfolk is probably going to be a waste. It would still take 2 more actions to get them moving and chances are they are unless I roll really lucky for them, they're going to just pass out which would mean an action is wasted. Better to just interact with them and begin dragging them out, no?

Arnellia strides forward, grabbing a townsfolk and dragging them towards the exit.

Maerk runs down the aisle, helping one of the townsfolk who was trampled out the doorway into the waiting arms of other townsfolk before coming back inside to help rescue more.

Yalandlara quaffs a potion before rushing through the benches and towards the exit.

The fire continues to rage and spread causing those inside to continue to choke and cough.
OOC: Nez takes/resists 5 fire damage
Yarr takes 5 fire damage
Arnellia takes 6 fire damge
Maerk takes 5 fire damage
Yalandlara takes 3 fire damage


The remaining townsfolk still inside all begin to pass out, falling unconscious.





Legend:
  Blue = PCs
  Red = Enemy Combatants
  Green = Fleeing NPCs
  Aqua = Rescueable townsfolks

She keeps moving as quickly and safely as she can towards the exit, keeping an eye out for anyone that needs help along the way.

[OOC: 3 stride actions. Continue south until I hit the wall, then head west towards the exit. That should get me close to that disabled civvie, about 3 squares away I think.]

Yarr adapts quickly to the changing situation, grabbing the person in the aisle and with his decent strength carrying him to the center of the room, fully out if he can reach it.

He'll be focusing on getting people out. Verbally trying to get people outside to form a bucket line if they aren't, and keeping an eye on the well being of the others just in case he needs to carry them out.

Unless things change his turns will be all that.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:14, Thu 13 Aug 2020.

Arnellia drags her rescuee to the door and hands him to a person on the outside.  She looks around for others that can be likewise moved.

OOC: Sorry for the vanishing, everyone.  I got distracted by the lack of 'anti-fire' spells in the book (to compare...5E's shape water gets a five foot cube of the stuff AS A CANTRIP...here it takes a spell slot to get two gallons)

...oh, and also my two jobs (oy vei)

Anyway, I'm not a hundred percent sure how 'dragging a person' works.  I'm going to assume it's half-movement, which means I can get him to the door, and spend an action to pass him outside.

Which leaves me two actions to use for whatever.

Is there any way I can delay my actions so if someone hands me a person, I can immediately hand them outside?

Nezaglomie drags the heavy human to the door and hands him to someone waiting outside.  Then she runs back in to grab the person furthest from the door.  The smoke is making it difficult, but she is confidant that the others are worse off.

Drag Quentino to R16.
Hand him off.
Stride to grab the person at O19.

Maerk was forced to crouch down now to see beneath the smoke filling the hall. His eyes watered and burned, his flesh was seared and his chainmail, he was certain, was branding small rings into anything it touched. His long legs took him to another unconscious person whom he grabbed about the collar and yanked toward the door as if he were rescuing sacks of grain. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could handle...


A1: Stride 10' to R13
A2: Grabby the grain, erm... victim
A3: Stride 15', drag out the door

Round 7
Nez drags Quentino out and hands him over to waiting helping hands. She moves back inside to keep helping.
OOC: 1 action moves to the doorway, 1 action turns quentino over, 1 action moves back

Sularius runs back inside, grabs the gnome councilor, and books it back outside again.

Yarr drags his rescued townsfolk outside.

Arnellia drags her rescued townsfolk outside.

Maerk drags another townie out the door.

The fire continues to rage. The fires in the back of the chamber have merged creating a wall of inferno engulfing the whole back of the town hall. The fires are racing across the ceiling while paintings on the walls are starting to burst into fire just from the heat.

Nez takes 6 fire damage (resists 5 for 1 damage)
Yarr takes 1 fire damage
Yalandlara takes 1 fire damage


Round 8
The remaining heroes are able to drag the last three townsfolk from the hall.

OOC: Encounter is over.






Legend:
  Blue = PCs
  Red = Enemy Combatants
  Green = Fleeing NPCs
  Aqua = Rescueable townsfolks

The heroes faces are all covered in soot and ash, their skin is raging red and blistering from the heat. Most of the townsfolk who attended seem to be well enough. About half have black faces and are coughing while a handful are still unconscious.

Tarindlara, the priestess from earlier, moves through the crowd offering healing blessings where she can but when she reaches the last three townsfolk rescued she checks their vitals and then sadly shakes her head.

"I'm sorry. They...they didn't make it. Too long in the fire."

She looks over the heroes and rushes over to hug her daughter.

"It's not your fault. Considering the size of the blaze and the number of people jammed inside trying to escape its a miracle only a few perished."

Behind her there is the crack of timber as the roof starts to collapse from the inferno inside.

Greta Gardania looks around, hugging some of the townspeople next to her, while others wearily clap her on the back in thanks for their lives.

"What manner of madness just happened?” This can be no accident! Did anyone see anything?"

One of the guards who was stationed outside before the fire began raises his hand, then his voice.

"Aye, the clerks saw everything. It was Calmont, that cad of a bookseller’s apprentice. He lit the fires in the halls next to the chamber. He also set those fire monsters loose on the crowd!"


A second guard shouts in assent, a grave but steely woman

"Indeed! And witnesses outside the building saw him run toward Hellknight Hill!"

The surly dwarven councilor interrupts, gesturing wildly towards the building still on fire.

"Leave him be! We've got work to do! Form the bucket brigades!"

The other councilors go to work getting the townsfolk into a line back towards the wells by the river to start a fire fighting brigade to combat the blaze behind them.

A few voices, upon hearing that it was the bookseller's apprentice that had set the fires look around and soon fingers are pointing towards Voz, the bookseller. Her face is blackened with soot and she is coughing up from the smoke being one of the later townies rescued. She scowls right back at her accusers.

"Don't go accusing me! I fired him earlier this week. That good-for-nothing was stealing from my shop!"

"...I tried to save as many as I could. There was Fire Mephit's in there..." She said softly as she hugged her mother back, coughing herself as she was at the front of it all and took awhile to get out herself. "...where would they of came from?"

"Bookseller's 'pprentice thad was fired las' week for stealin' sets a fire in a building ther forma boss wus in. Purdy clear where they came from miss." Yarr turns from Yalandlara and looks to the bookseller, "Ye missin' a summonin' book or two?"

"Takes more than just a book to summon." Yala said to Yarr, making sure to point to Jasmine to make the point. "It requires, magical talent as well. If he summoned them, he already had the ability."

Maerk snarled in frustration that some of those inside the hall didn't make it out. He glanced around the crowd for the cowardly braggart with the fancy knife, who very well could have helped with the rescue, but instead sought only to save himself.

The huge Ulfen decided then and there that he'd hold the sellsword accountable for the deaths himself, and that the pretty knife would be his!

With a grimace of pain, he unbuckled his shield, returned it to his back, and joined in the bucket brigade.

"Maerk wait, here drink this." She hands him a potion from her bandoleer. "One for you as well Yarr." Handing him the next potion. "Arnellia, here, my last one. They are all healing potions, they should help restore some of your vitality."

"Mother if you have another healing kit handy I could help tend to those that are hurt." She asked her mother.

[OOC: She just handed you three her last three Elixer of Life, Minor's. They also grant +1 on saves against disease and poison for 10 minutes.

02:51, Today: Yalandlara Vallindel rolled 6 using 1d6 with rolls of 6.  Elixir of Life, Minor (Arnellia).
02:51, Today: Yalandlara Vallindel rolled 2 using 1d6 with rolls of 2.  Elixir of Life, Minor (Yarr).
02:50, Today: Yalandlara Vallindel rolled 4 using 1d6 with rolls of 4.  Elixir of Life, Minor (Maerk).]
This message was last edited by the player at 07:40, Sat 15 Aug 2020.

Nezaglomie brings the last body out, looks inside to be sure that there aren't others that they missed, and finally steps away from the burning building.  She listens with sadness and regret to Tarindlara Vallindel's pronouncement that the last three didn't make it.  Real death, not just in stories ...  They don't tell you how horrible it all is, how sick you feel to look at a dead person's eyes.

Finally, she steps away to go find the goblin who fought so bravely.  "You, ahhh, you fought very well in there.  It was like you were a real per... umm, a real, uhhh ... warrior."  She starts to hold out a hand but pulls back, realizing that it is still a claw.  However, the spell ends just as she does this, and she bites back a sob of pain as her claws transform back to her tiny hands, once again.  She reaches it forward. "I am Nezaglomie, and I am pleased to meet you."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:00, Sun 16 Aug 2020.

Getting closer to Yarr you can make out the expression on his face, a mix of anger and frustration. Of regret and desire for vengeance. There is an expression, "beating yourself up over it". Yarr looks like he's doing as much damage to himself as he did to those mephits.

When the healing potion is offered his expression soften. Though the present doesn't seem to do much. The little hero was ravaged to near death in that chaos, healed up, and then worn down again after. Even putting aside the emotions of the tragedy, Yarr looks like shit.

"Thank ye, lass. Appreciate it."

When Neza comes over a short time later he wipes off his hand and shakes the offered hand, "A pleasure. Ah be Yarr the Hearty. A tidal ye ave seen why I got. I could ave dun better though. If only I'd killed 'em faster somehow, so we could have got 'em out sooner. Maybe if I hadn't urried so much and taken time to draw me blade. Maybe if I had dodged and not needed that healing it could have gone to one o 'em. I dunno. Ah dun feel like much of a warrior."

Not waiting for any reply he goes over to the dead with a forlorn expression and places a hand to his hat. Hesitating for a moment he pulls the hat off and puts it over his heart in the typical manner to honor the fallen.

Immediately his expression changes completely. Instead of forlorn he is confused. The goblin looks around frantically, as if he doesn't know what is going on, looking with panic at the bodies and his wounds and the fire. He quickly jams the hat back on his head.

He then is abruptly angry, grumbling, though only the close by can hear him, "God's dammit, ya git! Figer it out! I'm doing this!"

He takes the hat off again and repeats the guesture. The panicked expression immediately returns, but instead looks at where the hat is, looks to the bodies, and this time lowers his head and says, R-rest in p-peace. I'm s-sorry for y-your suffering."

His voice is slightly higher pitched, and more noticably, his pirate accent is totally gone. His demeanor is completely different.

What the?
This message was last edited by the player at 18:52, Sat 15 Aug 2020.

The tall warrior hesitated, "Maerk has nothing for trade..." But then seeing the goblin take one of the elixirs and toss it back without repayment, Maerk looked closely at the beautiful elven woman who'd offered it to him, cocking it to one side. "You not make trade for this?" He asked, puzzled.

After a moment, he shrugged, unstoppered the flask, and threw it back. The flavor was very unexpected, and though it didn't taste terrible, it was certainly unexpected!

Maerk nodded and made a mental note that payback was due.

Of particular note, especially to Maerk, is Vesinius isn't among the crowd. He was first out the door and apparently didn't even stick around to watch the town hall burn. A quick inquiry to the guards reveals they saw him head out at full speed towards Hellknight Hill.

With the help of the heroes and the rest of the town several bucket lines are formed and while the town hall is thoroughly damaged and most likely will need a full gut and repair at least the fire doesn't spread to any of the surrounding structures.

Greta appears concerned by this news.

"First the arsonist and now this sellsword? Something is calling trouble to Hellknight Hill and it is our responsibility to investigate it. Evil can not be allowed to take root so close to our town. Unfortunately I do not see any of the other hero bands, I suspect they have all departed towards their quest and so I, as the representative of this town, would like to ask you, our new heroes who fought so bravely to save us from the fire, to officially commission you to investigate Hellknight Hill.

We, the council, will offer you ten gold pieces each to make contact with the Bumblebrashers and as well as an additional ten gold pieces each for finding Calmont and delivering him, alive, to town so that we might bring justice for his crimes and uncover his motives."

She gives a nod at Yarr.

"It may be as simple as a disgruntled employee looking for revenge but the point has been raised as to how the fire mephits were summoned. I thought I knew Calmont as well as any other citizen and I am unaware of him receiving any kind of magical training so someone was aiding him, even if unknowingly. Will you help us and get to the bottom of these mysteries?"

"Um...uh...er...uh." the goblin fumbles over his words.

He looks around and sees lots of people looking expectedly at him.

To those that have conversed and fought alongside him, you would think it an entirely different goblin if you didn't know any better.

OOC Think the Superman effect, where nobody thinks Clark is Superman because he acts so different.

The goblin bites his lip, "Y-Yarr would do it even if you didn't ask. Ya..." he squeezes the hat tightly, "I don't like all t-this pointless death."

The goblin looks at his hat and squeezes it even tighter. Then swallows hard as if gathering his guts and puts it on with resolve. His demeanor switches so much it's practically a polymorph effect.

"None kin ave said it better, maybe na even aye and that twas kinda me! Hohoho! He'll answer ar questions as well as he'll answer fer these crimes or me name isn't Yarr the Hearty! Hells even if it isn't ah'll make sure he does sure as seas er wet! If that solo sexing loser lamentator with is fancy knife is involved he'll walk a short plank into a long sword I swear as well. I'll leave the tears for ye. Cry and mourn knowing I'll keep ye safe so ye can and end this so yer loved uns can rest well and live cozy in a better place, free from treason such as this! Ah be yer sword! Yer vengeance! Yarr heartiness!"

He turns to those he fought alongside in the flames, "Be ye with me?"

Rolling Diplomacy to raise spirits and reassure the gathered. Rolled 16.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:32, Mon 17 Aug 2020.

Yala hugged her mother one last time. "I have to do this mother." She smiled up to her then moved over to Greta and the others.

"I would be honored to take up this with Yarr and these others Greta. I trade with Miss Warbal's Brumblebasher's a lot myself for the herbs required to make many of my potions for the people to use against poisons and the like, and many of the others here trade other things with them. It's in the town's best interests that we see that they are okay, but not only that, they are our friends now and we help our friends." She said softly with a small nod.

Then she put a hand on the small Goblin's shoulder. "You are strong without that. I'll help you too, promise."

Then out of nowhere Jasmine hops up into Yarr's arms. "Yeah! You're a strong Goblin!"

"Where the hell have you been you little brat? We all almost died! We could have used you!" Yala scolded Jasmine.

"At the inn eating the meat the Goblin gave me. I fell asleep. I said I was going to nap by the fire." The feline said licking her paws.

"I'm starting to think he's right, cats should not talk." She picked up her wayward familier gently from Yarr's arms and began stroking her fur. "Like I said Yarr, I will help you too. I promise."

Sularius' calm demeanor is pierced for the briefest of moments as Greta requests their aid. A smile creeps upon his lips, and then is replaced with a more thoughtful expression. "As they have said," he says, motioning towards Yarr and Yalandlara, "I too would be happy to undertake this quest to find the man responsible for this attack and investigate Citadel Altaerein."

"Maerk will be hire," the huge warrior said as he raised his sword to cross his heart.

"How much gold for Maerk to kill sell-sword?" The Ulfen didn't bother to mention that he was planning on doing so regardless of the reward, but he'd learned as a mercenary to get the aspects of the deal taken care of right off. Nobody would look out for one, other than one's self.

His furs were singed, his armor and shield darkened with soot, his skin blistered and reddened, but his fierce blue eyes shone with an almost savage intensity.

"We go?" he asked those around him who seemed to be accepting the job.

"So, you're looking to us to go save this bunch of goblins you claim are 'good'?" asked Nezaglomie.  She looks down at her hands, as if there is something new there.  Well, here is this one goblin showing something other than mindless, animal hatred.  I suppose there could be others.  I doubt it, but I should find out.  "I guess I ..." she looks again at Yarr, somewhat in disbelief, "I guess I'm in, too."