The Dreaming Calf, situated with its back to the True Sea and its outbuilding forming two arms to wrap around an open space larger than some village squares, was full on the fifteenth day of Winter's Rest. The weather in Sarambar never got cold during winter, but the rainy season was slowly turning to the hot season. But still the night wind brings a coolness to the evening that leaves most natives of Sarambar shivering.

The winehouse was busy, noisy, and bright. But outside in the dark alleys of Sarambar it was deathly quiet. Behind the Dreaming Calf the road ran alongside the sea shore through a rocky shoal. Three figures were struggling, two trying to drag the third toward the sea. The middle figure was gagged and the other two were trying to keep it that way.

The struggle would inevitably end with one death and two undiscovered killers. If not for the odd fortune of six strangers hearing the noise. Two wandered in from the Southern side of the Calf, two from the Northern, and two from the other side of the Calf in the main yard.

Finally, the middle figure broke an arm free enough to pull the gag off. A high-pitched voice shrieked out, "Help!"

A woman sauntered into their path with a dreamy-eyed stare and a sinuous sway of hips. A wine-colored shawl covered a jewel-toned blouse and complementary skirt. Basilisa The Bold softly hummed an old folk song of the wandering tribe of troubadours & troublemakers she’d accompanied the last dozen moons. Her tambourine rattled with a gentle tap. She seemed unaware of them as she danced to her own private song, until she swayed to a stop within nine paces of the trio.

Basilisa stopped and swayed slightly, as if she moved as much to her wine as to her own song. “Oh!” She smiled, a parting of lush lips that teased of deeper pleasures than song alone. “This looks like a fun game!” The dark-haired woman chuckled in a purring alto that sounded worldlier than her seeming years. “<Hic> I like games, but I would enjoy them more if Winter’s Rest didn’t dry up my business!”

Eyes of pale aquamarine hue fixed the men flanking the hostage. Basilisa spoke in a feigned slur of one still on the girlishly charming side of “Drunk”. “Might I interest you in a bawd befut...befitting the kinky games you obviously like to stray...play?”


OOC:

I tried to convince them she’s a fun drunk to distrust them.

17:28, Today: Basilisa rolled 7 using 1d20+4.  Deception: Play drunk and distract the thugs.

Welp.

 

Thalla hated the heat in Sarambar, how it seemed to stick to her shirt and get under her armor. Apparently, this wasn't even as hot as it was going to get, and the prospect of a scorching summer spent in this strange city waiting for some divine sign made her sour.

So her evenings spent in overcrowded, overheated festhalls were often cut short and she'd often wander by the sea, let the breeze cool her off as she drank their strange wine and wish once more for something stronger. She was far from home, directionless, and running out of coin... But at least she wasn't dead. Again.

Except tonight wasn't going to be another night of sweaty brooding it seemed. A piercing cry snapped her head north. The tall woman slipped the maul off her back and propped it onto one shoulder. She watched a pretty woman swayed her way towards the kidnappers, drunkenly approaching them. She raised an eyebrow and stepped forward to help out.

She raised her chin and grinned at them, eyes twinkling with the prospect of violence. She was a tall woman in scale armor under her long thin maroon coat, the glint of a handaxe on her hip under her coat. "I don't think your friend particularly enjoys this game. Why don't you let her go so we can play another. Something rougher, perhaps?" she called out, resting her head against the heavy hammer on her shoulder.

She may not have the charm of the other would-be hero, but she had trained herself to read her opponent for their next move, and that's just what she did now... But the wine seemed to be a little stronger than she remembered.

OOC: Use Insight to predict if they will get violent
Thalla rolled 3 using 1d20+2
Off to a great start!

A pull leading him to this location, or fate guiding his footsteps? Was such a thing worth looking into, or should he continue to focus on manipulating the very fabric that bound this world together? Questions and answers to those questions were important, to be sure and such questions often got in the way of thinking about other things. Such as whatever that woman at the tavern meant by... actually what did she even say? Probably not important, but there was something in the way she had said-

His thoughts were interrupted by the cry for help from the woman being dragged to the sea. The lanky, weather beaten elf couldn't just stand at the side from such an obvious abuse of power and strength as the cries of the lady between the two thugs brought him out of his mind. Glancing around, he reached down for his wand, not wanting to escalate things, but also not wanting to simply stand beside as things got out of hand. However, more... charismatic voices were speaking leading him to remain silent for the time being, lest his voice simply add to the cacophony. At the same time, he needed to prepare to intervene.

Wondering idly to himself, for the thousandth time and tying his own head up in knots of verse and possible lines of reasoning, why exactly he'd been sent at this particular time, to sit and wait on the corner of this particular inn, in this particular city. No-one had said he had to sit in plain view, so he hadn't. He muttered as he mused from the comfort of a pile of broken pallets and barrels; it wasn't a pretty throne, but it was quite comfortable after a bit of wiggling.

It was just as he was starting in on "wondering; one thousand and one" when he saw the commotion and heard the call for aid. It seemed a little too serendipitous to really be the answer to his ponderings, but he knew better than to start second guessing chance encounters. Either way, before he could act he saw others moving in, almost like actors cue'd in a play. So he hunkered down into his hidey spot, willing to watch and see how this scene evolved before intervening himself. After all, no use risking his own skin if others were happy to put themselves in the line of fire. Besides, this situation bore some observation to see what was really going on.

OOC:
15:03, Today: Raelan rolled 15,7,12 using 1d20+4,1d20+4,1d20+4.  Stealth, Insight, Perception.

Rethsiren had been enjoying himself in the Calf for a while. He might have come here for a reason, but there was no reason he couldn't take a bit of a break. And there was no better way to get to know a new city than a good drink or a good brawl at the local winehouse. He'd had the first, but the place seemed quite well-behaved tonight. The blue-scaled dragonborn was whistling a sailing tune as he emerged into the main courtyard, only to wheel about and charged around the building at the cry for help. He reached for the warhammerat his belt as he ran- it paid to be prepared for trouble.

Unlike the other strangers happening upon the scene, Rethsiren didn't waste time with words of persuasion or distraction. It seemed simple enough to him: someone had called for help and those accosting them needed shown the error of their ways.It perhaps didn't help the thugs' cause once he saw where they were dragging their victim. It hadn't been that long ago since the dragonborn's own experience with being tossed into the waves and made him angry to see now. He roared and charged at the group, intent on tearing the agressors away from their victim.

OOC: Not sure if he'll even reach them this round, but if he does Rethsiren will shove to the ground or grapple the nearest thug. He doesn't especially care which so long as they get off of the person.

18:27, Today: Rethsiren rolled 17 using 1d20+5 ((12)).

One of the two figures slapped their hand over the mouth of the one in the middle as first Basilisa and then the others approached. The other turned toward her drunken display and snarled a quick "Head off, bitch!" before turning back to help his comrade.

In the half moon shed enough light to reveal that the two would-be murderers were men - tall, rough, and definitely local to Sarambar with their dark features - and that the third was small, lean, but with a wood pulled low over their face to hide their features.

As Thalla, Lathalan, and Rethsiren came into view, the man who had spoken let out a curse and the two tried to haul the three toward the rocky fall that much faster. They seemed single-minded.

Please roll initiative, since I believe that's what Reth rolled for.

Watching the events unfold and the inevitability of an imminent death, Raelen made up his mind. This would be worth the look on the thugs' face, if nothing else. Chuckling evilly to himself, he instigated the change, felt his bones crack and shift, his flesh turning inside out as he moved for the cliff...

OOC:
20:50, Today: Raelan rolled 20 using 1d20+2.  Initiative.

Action: Wild Shape
Move: Heading for the cliff and over it, if possible, under cover of dark/whatever cover might keep me out of view.

21:04, Today: Raelan rolled 22 using 1d20+7. Stealth.

"Not interested in talking? Good," Thalla said with that same smile, though her eyes weren't smiling. They were sizing up the two men, and seeing which would pause the biggest threat. She saw the Dragonborn move in from the other side and nodded in approval. Good to see there was someone else not afraid to step into danger.

She charged one of the men, lowering her shoulder and aiming to knock him on his arse and away from their captive. "Let go!" she growled the moment she reach him.

Attempt to shove prone the kidnapper Rethsiren isn't attacking.
Shove: Thalla rolled 11 using 1d20+5.
Initiative: Thalla rolled 5 using 1d20+2

Basilisa sobered up and stood straight when the Amazonian woman and Dragonborn joined them. She clucked her tongue at the thug who’d dared called her “Bitch”. “Tt-tt. How rude!” The chuckle that accompanied her remark said that she found the man’s attempt more amusing than insulting.

“No, I will NOT head off.” Basilisa jingled her tambourine with a crisp peal. “Not without a proper farewell, at least!” With a grin, she plucked a small bit of fleece from a skirt pocket. Clapping the tambourine, she uttered a word in Elvish and laughed at the pair.

OOC:

17:21, Today: Basilisa rolled 3 using 1d20+2.  Initiative.

Casting Phantasmal Force on the one who called her a “Bitch”.

Intelligence Save vs. DC 14.



This message was last edited by the player at 22:27, Mon 28 Sept 2020.

Stepping closer to the men, Lathalan reached out to the very ground behind them. Waving his wand and muttering the incantation that had become second nature to him, he created a deep trough about four foot across and 1 foot deep behind them, as if made in a single smooth motion with the earth and dirt piled behind that trough creating a small berm in their way. "Stop. We'll make you if we have to." He kept his words simple at the moment, since there were more verbose people around to handle that side of things.

---

14:58, Today: Lathalan rolled 14 using 1d20+2.  Initiative.
Action: Cast Mold Earth to move a large portion of the ground behind one of the men, creating a small foot deep trough behind him.
Move: Move closer to the pair to keep them in the range of his spells.

Rethsiren grinned fiercely at the human woman rushing in to attack as he heard others murmuring in the familiar rhythm of casting nearby. Good. It was well to know that there were others good-hearted enough(or at least angry enough at a common enemy) to step in should he fail. He briefly considered reaching for his own magics, but these men had not yet shown that they were worth wasting the power that Holmgar had blessed him with. His own strength would suffice for now.

And perhaps he simply wanted to pound in the faces of men like this himself, instead of leaving it to the Drowned King. Men who would abduct and terrify a poor soul, who would speak so crudely to a lady, even one in her cups. Physicality was easier to control, too, if they needed one alive.

He lowered his shoulder as he charged forward, in the same style as his newly found battle-friend. If his target could be knocked away form the kidnapee, good. If the man fell into the newly-dug ditch that had mysteriously appeared behind the thug, even better.

"Run!" He growled in the captive's direction. The sooner the (presumably) innocent cleared the battlefield, the more room the erstwhile rescuers would have to work.



OOC: Nope, was just rolling an attack in case he would actually make it to the men and it was needed.

19:59, Today: Rethsiren rolled 9 using 1d20-1.  Initiative.

20:22, Today: Rethsiren rolled 18 using 1d20+5.  Shove prone the one Thalla didn't target.

This message was last edited by the player at 00:27, Tue 29 Sept 2020.

Raelen's form changed as he moved in the shadows and disappeared over the edge of the cliff leading down to the rocky sea.

Rethsiren barreled into one of the men, knocking him into the shallow trench that was even now appearing as Lathalan weaved his spell. The man let out a grunt as he fell, his grip on their captive released.

The other man held the struggling captive, even as the smaller figure fought to get free. But it kept the man's attention well enough.

Thalla rammed into the man, knocking him sprawling into Lathalan's trench. His grip was released from the captive. Now released, the smaller figure stood still, quavering slightly, like they did not know what to do. But at Rethsiren's directions, they took off sprinting, headed for the cover of the Dreaming Calf's walls.

As Basilisa's spell took effect, the man in the trench stared in horror for a moment at a point in space, and then shook his head vigorously and turned his attention back to the fight.

Initiative Order
Raelan 20
Rethsiren 17
Lathalan 14

Them 8

Thalla 5
Basilisa 3

One chitinous leg after the other, Raelen crawled up and back over the precipice behind the thugs, revealing his arachnid visage, his many eyes glistening in the light from the inn. He paused, rearing slightly atop the mound created by Lathalan, allowing his victims time to witness the horror descending upon them; a grotesquely sized spider, as long as a man is tall, before lunging down upon them with gaping maw...

OOC:

Move: Back over cliff edge and adjacent to thugs
Action: Attack thug (Bite)

15:22, Today: Raelan rolled 12,2,9 using 1d20+3,1d6+1,2d6.  Attack, Damage, Poison damage (Con DC:11 for half).
15:24, Today: Raelan rolled 22 using 1d20+3.  Attack Advantage (if applicable; I wasn't sure if one or either were prone).

Rethsiren yelled as the giant spider came flowing up the cliff and lunged for one of the would-be murderers, drawing his warhammer as he backed away from it and them. He held the weapon ready for defense against any or all of them, but made no move to attack. Quick glances revealed that objective had been achieved and the captive fleeing for the safety of the winehouse, and he felt no particular urge to intervene unless the spider began seeking non-criminal prey or something lunged for him again.

"Surrender if you wish to live!" He bellowed. "Or I'll leave you to the spider!" The dragonborn might not understand the spider's appearance, but he wasn't above using it.

18:54, Today: Rethsiren rolled 19 using 1d20.  Intimidation.

Thalla watched with satisfaction as the man tumbled into the trench... Which appeared out of nowhere... And now there was a spider... In the heat of the battle, she was having trouble keeping track of who was doing what. She would usually just swing her maul until things sorted themselves out, but this was not war, so her maul stayed on her back for now. She was curious about the attempted kidnapping, and dead men did not talk. Or at least, not as clearly as the living.

So instead, she tried to grab hold of either of the men still alive, her powerful grip to yank them up into a bearhug, arm muscles clenching like a vice around them. "Stay still or I snap your bloody neck!" she whispered and attempted to pull her would-be captive away from the fight.

Action: Athletics (Grappling) Thalla rolled 13 using 1d20+5
Move Action: Drag captive 15 feet away from fight

The appearance of another figure on the field of combat was unexpected and brought a new element to bare, one that would need to be treated with the exact same effect as is a wild animal had decided upon joining in a fight. Still, this was highly suspicious behavior, especially since it had voluntarily engaged a group with superior numbers, suggesting that it was not a mere beast, but had a different intelligence behind it. Sort of like Thia, his familiar. Nevertheless, it would have to be treated as such until such a time as it proved otherwise, and he intended to give it that time.

However, not wanting to be caught unaware, he lifted his wand once more, trailing it down his throat as he let out a gout of flames into the sky. After letting the flames escape his open mouth harmlessly upward, he nodded to the others engaged in the fight. Sometimes, a display of power could aid others, especially since magic itself came with unknown elements that they could fabricate whole-cloth if need be. "Please. Surrender, peacefully."

---

Bonus action: cast Dragon Breath choosing fire
Action: release cone of flames straight up for thematic effect for the others
Holding movement to about 30ft of the group struggling in the trench I dug with magic.

Basilisa watched the disparate group unite against a threat to a seeming innocent with a curious smile. Her smile turned into a bemused grin at the Barbarian woman manhandling a thug who’d only moments before demeaned and threatened women. She appreciated the irony. Her feet shuffled in a series of quick steps as she danced toward the gathering. The tambourine beat with each step as she swayed toward them.

When the Elvish man belched fire, Basilisa gasped in awe and accentuated his display with a harsh beat. Their heroism inspired a quick ditty, which she sang in a smooth alto:

”If you treat a maiden gently
And raise not or lay harsh hand
Your life will be quite lengthy
And honored in our land.”

Basilisa stopped just out of arm’s reach. With fetching smile, she shook the tambourine up and down  in a clockwise circle.

”Lay down your weapon
Let violence now end.
Let Peace there be between us
And call each other Friend.”


With the she sang, Basilisa wove enchantment into her lyrics, hoping to charm the man held by the warrior woman.



OOC:

Charm cast against the thug held by Thalia.

As a Bonus Action, I’ll use Bardic Inspiration and give Thalia a 1d6.


 

Raelan's appearance startled the two men. Both lay in the trench and shielded their faces as the huge spider lunged down. The first man screamed as the spider's fangs buried in his shoulder. But the scream died as the venom ran through his veins.

Rethsiren's roaring command was made all the more effective by the ease with which the spider had offed the first man. The second dropped his weapon and threw up his hands in surrender.

It was simple enough for Thalla to grab the surrendering man and get his arms behind his back. The other seemed to be alive, still. But comatose due to blood loss or venom.

Basilisa, do you still want to Charm the man? If yes, I'll roll the save.

Lathalan, I assume you will skip on the using the spell? If not, let me know.

We're out of initiative since there are no more enemies.

With the offenders down or handled, Raelan turned about and fled with startling speed back over the cliff and into the darkness. His work here was done, it seemed.

Doubling back on himself and safely out of sight, the gigantic spider folded in upon itself, chitin rearranging back into the bone and flesh of the ragged gnome he truly was. Taking a moment to readjust his senses and balance from eight to two, Raelen shook his head like a dog to set things straight and scooted back at double speed to spy on how the strangers had handled the situation, paying particular mind to where the "victim" had fled to.

OOC: I'll be sitting out a spell to accomodate the time taken to return to Gnome form and to the scene...I'll be coming in as if new to it.

Thalla heard the songstress' song as she grabbed the man by the arm. She never had a song honoring such a minor deed, but there was magic in those words, so she smiled at Basilisa and nodded in thanks. But the battle ended before it had even started, with one foe on the ground, the other twisted in her arms and that monstrous spider scurrying away.

It was all very confusing, and sharper minds could sort it out. "Don't squirm if you want to keep your arm attached to your body," she whispered to her captive, her other hand grabbing him by the hair and lifting his head up so that he could look at the rest of the group.

"Well met. Thalla of Procois," she said to the others from behind her captive's head, giving them a cocksure smile. "Now could someone please tell me what just happened... Or get him to talk." She shoved him forward, keeping her crushing grip on his twisted arm to make sure he didn't run.

What should have been a battle for the song scrolls ended just as Basilisa sang her second refrain. The injustice, the indignity! She rolled her eyes with a sigh at the ignominious end. Thalia’s greeting and thanks headed off the snit, though.

“Greetings, Thalia of Procois!” Basilisa dipped in a quick half-curtsy. With a grin and friendly laugh, she added, “Perhaps from this night to be known as ‘Thalia The Steel-Limbed’?” She paused to read the Warrior Woman’s face. “Too corny? I can work on it! Still, an honor to meet one who represents our sex so valiantly!

I am Basilisa The Beauteous, Mistress of Minstrelsy, your fellow Avenger of Social Injustice, at your service!” With a toss of her fabulous black hair, she added, “Available for weddings, Heroes’ Feasts, Harvest Festivals, May Fires, and birthdays!”

Once she’d introduced herself, the Bard approached Thalia’s hostage. Eyeing him up and down, she resumed her song.

“Our battle has reached a hasty end
Let us call a truce
Call each other Friend!”

OOC:

Dungeon Master, I’ll use that Charm Spell now!

He’ll roll an Intelligence Save vs. DC 14.

Thalla's captive squealed - a high-pitched noise of pain - as she twisted his arm and pulled his head up. But his eyes were full of anger and resentment and he kept his mouth shut otherwise. Even Basilisa's song seemed to have no effect on him.

Rethsiren watched the spider scurry off before turning his attention to their captive. "You may call me Rethsiren, dear ladies of song and battle. I have the honor being a servant of Holmgar. Might I suggest that we simply render our new friend unconscious, and turn he and the other over to the city guard? Perhaps their victim may be more willing to offer answers- I saw the poor soul flee toward the winehouse." The Dragonborn held up a balled-up fist in offer, gesturing toward the man's skull as he spoke.

As the others tried to strong-arm the conscious aggressor into talking, Raelan skulked up to the edge of the light and watched for a moment. He picked his nose and observed the mixed crew while they made their introductions.

With his nasal cavity thoroughly clean, he finally made himself known and stepped out of the shadows. His gait was slow and rhythmic; there was a skip in his step, but it was more like a funeral march. As he headed toward the inn, following in the steps of the one that had cried for help, his skull-topped fetish-staff clacked on the cobbles, the wood, bone and feather tokens rattling with his every step. As he was almost past, over one shoulder he cocked an eye at the group standing over the fallen men.
"Trouble is for those that seek,
and succour comes but to the weak.
I'd look to bind your man right there,
'fore he he plucks up all his dare."
His voice was high and cracked and, his piece said, he turned back toward the inn, cackling like a moon-mad beggar as he skipped off toward the welcoming light in search of the victim they'd aided.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:00, Sat 10 Oct 2020.