In reply to Brennus Vane (msg # 8):

"Aye, I offered, Bar keep, give him a cold beer!" he throws a gold up and waits for his change. He has nothing smaller. "One for our dwarven friend here too!"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:39, Fri 16 Apr 2021.

"Father Sun's blessing upon you, friend," says Brennus, picking up the jug of water and moving towards the man's table. "May I?" he asks, nodding towards one of the stools.

In reply to Brennus Vane (msg # 10):

"Be my guest, Angus Stone is the name!"

"Thank 'ee," replies the Cleric, sitting down, "Brother Brennus at your service." He takes the beer the tavern keeper brings over and raises it in Angus' direction before taking a long swig. "Ahhh...that's a good drop," he says, his scowl softening imperceptibly.

In reply to Bodric Battlebelly (msg # 5):

Ormalian snapped out of it. Of course—he had been talking with Bodric! The dwarf's question brought his attention to his own unstarted dinner. He waved a hand and muttered a word. The knife rose on its own and he set it to work slicing out bite-sized portions.

"Eat meat I do, friend Battlebelly," he said, "and I'd wager there's some potential for amusement in asking the small—I mean, the new one there—to join us." He speared the first chunk of meat with a fork and indicated the halfling at the bar with it as he spoke.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:43, Fri 16 Apr 2021.

The girl standing on the stool looks the strange holy man over past the corners of her eyes while she drinks her small mug of ale with both two hands. Apparently, with it being in a multi-cultural port town, the tavern had small mugs suitable for small-bodied folk like her.

She continues to hold the skewer with its remaining cheese on it in-between her fingers as she drinks and observes the odd priest move over to the table with the warrior man enjoying his meal whom she slipped past earlier.

She sets the small mug down. She partakes a bite of the quickly disappearing cheese on her stick while she looks the room over. She notes that there seem to be lots of interesting folks in here with her.

As the evening continues, you spent some time getting to know each other and telling anecdotes. The grim and serious looking group of people who had reserved the third floor remained conspicuously distant and quiet. Three of their group stayed in the common room at a table near the fireplace. The small group consisted of two men and a beautiful dark haired woman. All wore dark, drab cloaks that shrouded them from the gaze of curious onlookers. On a almost clockwork regularity, one of the men would rise and go upstairs only to have another return moments later. It was as regular as the changing of the guard, which some of you might surmise was exactly what was happening.

As the evening wore on and the candles burnt low, the darkness outside felt like it was closing in. The smoke from the fireplace felt unusually cloying. Bindilou was the first to realize that the smoke filling the room was not coming from the fireplace. Glancing up the stairs, she saw a orange flickering of light as she realized that the inn itself was ablaze.

At the realization, Bindilou gasps! She suddenly points towards the flickering orange light upstairs and proclaims, "There's a fire upstairs!"

She stands there only for a moment, and then realizes the situation. She exclaims, "My things!" Her little feet suddenly get a move on and, although her stride is small, she makes haste upstairs intent on saving her things stored in her room up above the tavern.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:50, Sat 17 Apr 2021.

The grizzled dwarf was almost grateful for the distraction of smoke and flame, for there had been placed before him a dire temptation, a challenge to the commitment he'd declared to himself.

The cup remained on the table, untouched, as Bodric sprang from his seat...

He watched the halfling go racing toward the flames, considered going with her to help, but saw that there were several around the hall that were in no shape to extricate themselves from danger. Bodric had once been like them, waking up each morning with no recollection of where he was or how he'd ended up there...

"Th'lass'll be fine," he said, hoping it would really turn out to be true. He scanned the hall to see who needed his help the most, and went to them, drawing upon the strength of his race to seek positions of leverage.

"C'mon ye louts! Get on'yer feet! Out ye go! NOW!!!" Bodric bellowed!

~~~

Seeking to help any of the drunks or cripples that can't really help themselves...

At the cry of 'fire', Brennus  leaps to his feet...an odd look in his eyes, the burn marks on his head and face looking somehow more livid in the smoky, flickering light. "Out!" he bellows, moving purposefully towards the stairs.

Angus heads for the door in confusion. Checking to see if anyone needs aid along the way.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:01, Sun 18 Apr 2021.

Ormalian felt curiously unperturbed by the sudden hullabaloo. Fully intending to help where needed and also see to his own safety, he used his staff to heave himself to his feet and studied the mysterious woman and her guards closely.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:21, Sun 18 Apr 2021.

Bindilou nimbly dodged around the legs of the people headed for the exit as she rushed to the stairs. Brennus was not far behind her. Looking up, they could see that the flickering of the fire was in the stairwell above them, above the second floor landing. As they headed up a couple of steps, they say that someone had stacked a pile of firewood on the stairs. The scent of lamp oil burned at your nose as you realized that the fire had been purposely set.

Ormalian was discretely studying the cloaked strangers; two men and a woman. One of the men quietly rotated out ever so often, obviously bodyguards that were changing shift. Further examination revealed that it was the woman that they the men were protecting. Beneath the men's cloaks, he caught the glimpse of weapons and chain armor, unusual to be wearing in town unless they were expecting trouble. At the cry of 'fire', the group looked around in concern, hands drifting closer to the hilts of their hidden weapons. As they stood to seek safety, they raised the hoods of their cloaks, obscuring their features. The quickly but carefully headed for the exit, the two men taking point, standing protectively in front of the woman.

Angus and Bodric helped move the slower members of the tavern to safety. Holding the door and ushering people out. The the mysterious trio exited the building, Angus heard the familiar twang of a crossbow firing from across the tavern's green. A moment later one of the three cloaked figures collapsed, falling limp at his feet in a quickly growing pool of blood.

In reply to Gamemaster (msg # 21):

Angus checks on the wounded person! "Watch out, assassin!"

Angus kneels and rolls over the body of the cloaked figure at his feet. It was one of the men who was acting as bodyguard. The end of the crossbow bolt protruded from his neck like a short feathered stub. Blood was pooling around the body and Angus couldn't avoid getting his hands covered in the sticky crimson liquid.

The other two cloaked figures didn't cry out or appear shocked. They acted as if this was not an unexpected occurrence. one of the figures covered the other, acting as a human shield, and rushed them around the corner of the building, hoping to get out of the line of sight of the assassin.

In reply to Gamemaster (msg # 23):

"Cleric! We need a cleric!" Angus staunches the flow as best he can, trying to keep the man alive!

"Fire! Get out!" Brennus shouts up the stairs, looking to see if it is possible to get up them safely.

He is about to try when he hears the cry of 'Assassin' behind him. Pausing, he turns to see where the call came from...spotting the warrior he was with earlier bent over a body. The call for a Cleric decides him, abandoning the stairs he heads towards the warrior.

"Assassin?" growls Brennus, as he reaches the warrior's side. He takes a quick look at the man on the ground but immediately sees he is beyond help. "Where?" he asks, swinging his shield into place and grabbing his mace.

Not having a way to put out a fire from a stacked pile of oiled firewood on the staircase, the little Halfing leaps over the fire and continues on up the stairs to her room to hastily fetch her things...just in case the fire isn't dealt with and spreads upwards.

Along the way though, she does keep an eye peeled for any bucket of water or other source of water to toss on the fire.

Already alert to the trio's movements, Ormalian zigzagged through the crowd as the guard fell and followed the remaining two at a discreet distance. He wanted to avoid alarming the woman's guard while not being mistaken for a member of their company by the assassin. The elf warily scanned across the green for the crossbow wielder. He began to call up the magic missile spell in his mind.

Bodric finished helping a drunken human out of the building, the man's large hand pressing the dwarf's helm down over the front of his face, and nearly showering him with vomit after the sudden lurchings to get out the Inn door. Bodric let him collapse in a muddy spot at the edge of the street where he wouldn't be trampled nor be in danger of falling, fiery debris, to sleep off his drinking.

He lifted his helm in time to hear Angus say Assassin, and saw the man point. Drunks and fools now safe, Bodric decided to try and flush the crossbowman out! He noticed his new elven acquaintance weaving through the crowd and gestured toward the city gates and brought his hands together, hoping to convey where to meet up later. Then Bodric raised his shield and pounded off across the green, his wooden-soled boots clumping noisily as he went.


Heading toward where Angus thinks the assassin shot from.

The fire in the stairwell blocked easy access to the third floor (which had been rented by the mysterious strangers) but still allowed access to the second floor where most of the group had their rooms. Looking up past the fire, Bindilou could see the next landing where a small window was open. A dark garbed figure was there, one leg out the window and a bloody dagger clutched in his hand. Bindilou and the dark clad man locked eyes for a moment before the man slipped out the third floor window

Brennus quickly checks the body of the fallen man and find that the man is already dead. Scanning the area, he quickly takes note of the open tavern green where Bodric is standing, looking for signs of the assassin. Across the street are a couple of shops that appear closed for the evening. The first is a pewter shop that is dark and silent. An herb, spice and tea shop is next door. A small light from a lantern can be seen bobbing on the flat rooftop of the herb shop. In addition, a small stable is near the tavern proving shelter for the mounts of those renting rooms.

As Brennus quickly scans the area, he takes note of a horse tied alongside the stable, unusual in that this time of night, all the horses should have been put away in their stalls. One of the dark shadows along the loft of the stable suddenly moves, dashing for the lone horse.

Ormalian shadowed the surviving couple whose companion had been shot. He could hear a man's voice speaking quietly. "Are you alright? Obviously you were the target again. It is only fortune's luck that they didn't succeed. Most of our men are gone. We might have to give up on this quest. The witch has too many allies." The couple stayed in the shadows of the building, remaining alert for trouble.

Brennus makes a run for the horse tied up alongside the stable, guessing that this is where the shadowy figure is heading....trying to cut him off.

"There...on the stable roof...making for that horse!" he growls, pointing with his mace...as he passes the burly Dwarf.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:04, Mon 26 Apr 2021.

Ormalian stepped forward at a casual pace with one hand spread in greeting. Every grim human he'd met had perceived him as a frivolous, if not outright decadent elven wayfarer, and he did not intend to be anything else for these two.

"I'm Ormalian," he said with a slight bow. "If you are in danger, perhaps my friends and I could be of assistance." He glanced significantly back toward where the recently slain guard lay. "You seem to have need of it."

The gnarled dwarf considered throwing his handaxe at the shadowy figure, but then a better idea came to mind. Instead of reaching for his belt, he instead reached for the coil of rope on the side of his pack and the grappling hook attached to it. Swinging the rope over his head, he bounded toward the horse as quickly as his short legs would carry him!

"Ha ha! We'll be gettin'im Holy Man!"

---

OOC: As soon as Bodric is within 40' of the shadowy figure and things he can get a good toss, he'll try to grappling hook the assassin! If the assassin makes it to horse before then, Bodric will try to snag the horse or the saddle!

Bindilou freezes in place momentarily like a deer expectantly caught in a sudden lantern's beam of light, but then snaps back into motion. She makes her way to her room where she quickly grabs up her pack, bow, and quiver before heading toward the window and looking out to see how difficult it would be for her to make good her exit of the burning Salty Dog tavern through it.