This must be the place, the halfling thought to himself. The wooden placard swung from rotting post connected with two rusted rings; an image of a dagger was carved into it. The paint was faded was the halfling could still see the remnants of the vermilion paint lingering on the misshapen blade.
#
"The Crimson Dagger's where ye wanna go fer excitement," the guardsman at the gate had told him. Friadoc had just reached the entry gates to the city of Irongate today, and the toothless gate man was the first person he saw. "Plenty o' things goin' on down there ye know. Lotsa interestin' folks." The guard smiled an ugly, gap-toothed smile and pointed straight ahead. "Jus' up da road a bit, an' go left on Martrusse. You'd be knowin' the place when ye see it"
The guard's eyes darted furtively back and forth for only a second, and he bent down to the halfling's level. "An' be sure'n tell 'em Kavros sent ye," he added with a wink.
#
"The Crimson Dagger" Friadoc whispers to himself. With wanderlust in his eyes, he pops another peanut into the air and catches it with his mouth and makes his way to the door.
The halfling managed to sidestep the man coming through the door, and his wonderlust quickly turned into trepitidation as he looked up and saw the beast that had thrown him through it.
A huge, over-muscled half-orc with a broken tusk looked down at him and held the door. "Comin' in or ain't ya?" The grisly voice sank down to the halfling's bones, and as his eyes rested on the unconscious man beside him, he didn't even realize he was walking through the door.
-----------------------------
The dwarf sat drunk again at the table in the corner, barely noticing the fight in front of him. He was thinking of Captain Stonebender again, and tryign to wash the memories away; those were dreams that he just wasn't in the mood for tonight.
The large half-orc had invited him to this underground tavern a few weeks ago, and Rogash had been coming ever since. He knew the fights were probably illegal, but the drinks were cheap, and the solitude merciful.
A particularly nasty crash had brought him temporarily out of his stupor and he looked up in time to see the elven man slide face-first down the side of the cage and collapse into a broken heap. This one's over, he thought as he brought his mug up to his cracked lips and drained it completely.
He raised his mug to the serving wench as she made her way through the groping ruffians in the crowd, signalling for another. A hand clasped his shoulder. "Yer up, Dwarf," a voice said.
Rogash, his mug still in the air, turned just enough to see the man who spoke. The fightmaster, Cragen, was a huge man with disfiguring scars covering his most of his body was standing over him, his hand still on his shoulder but not bothering to look down at him.
"Don't wanna," Rogash said as he watched the half-orc drag the lifeless elven body out of the cage door and up the back staircase.
"Yer tab's late, dwarf. Get in the cage." Cragen looked down at him now; his grip tightened on Rogash's shoulder. "That is, unless you'd rather take it to the alley."
Rogash looked up at Cragen; the man's twisted grin was sobering. He weighed his odds, but the two over-sized goons at the door made his decision. Slowly he got up, and made his way to the cage.
-----------------------------
"Sure, I know how ye can make some extra gold," said the wiry old man behind the bar. His eyes were shifty, and Rokelsh knew he couldn't be trusted, but he decided to listen anyway, just to hear what he had to say.
"Yer a big fella, look like ye c'n fight." Rokelsh's ears perked. This was getting interesting.
"Looks like there might be room fer ya," The old mad nodded towards the door and watched a corded-muscled half-orc toss a man through the front door of the tavern. He hadn't seen them before, like they appeared from nowhere.
"Don't be worryin'," the man continued. He was drying a row of steins as he spoke. "Ye won't be havin' t'fight with Grunk. Won't be havin' that one on our heads!" He loosed a quick chortle and an impressive glob of spittle sprayed fom his mouth landed on the mug he'd just dried. "But there's others," he said, and he wiped the dripping mound of spit off the mug and set it down with the rest of the clean ones. Rokelsh nodded.
"Good," the man said, and he scurried rat-like over to Grunk and whispered something in his ear. He was back in a flash. "Follow Grunk, he'll show you the way."
Rokelsh followed the solient half-orc through a well concealed dooor behind the bar and down a narrow flight of stairs. Another door met them at the bottom, and Grunk knocked. Three times, a pause, and then twice more, and the door opened. Inside stood two hulking humans, and beyond was a rowdy and drunken crowd. A sullen but able-looking dwarf stood in an open cage in the corner. Grunk extended his hand, "dis way."
The bloodthirsty crowd began to cheer.
-----------------------------
It's not supposed to be this way!
That was his last thought as his face slammed into the iron cage, before everything went black. And it was his first thought as he came to his senses just in time to crash face first again into the dirt in front of the Crimson Blade. His equipment came out after him, stirring up the dirt and bringing a tear to his eyes. he looked up, tried to make sense of it all, but everything was a haze. It was all fading, but the pain was searing through his face. White flashes jumped in front of his eyes, but he struggled to stay conscious. He knew someone had done this to him, but why? Where?
A figure emerged from the pain-enduced haze. Slowly, it came to light, and then faded again. He couldn't believe what he was seeing; couldn't believe how he'd sank so low, and that this had done it to him. He tried to say the words, but instead only found himself dreaming.
Several minutes later he snaps awake as two young boys try to relieve him of his purse. They seem to freeze in fear not only of his sudden awakening, but of the horrible condition of his nose, or at least what's left of it.
His eyes dart back and forth between the two boys, and the question burns at his lips. "Where is the halfling?"
Last edited by industrygothica; 9th May 2007 at 05:44 PM..
Playfully dropping into a fighting stand, with a sly grin on his face, Friadoc balances on the balls of his feet, briefly pushing up to his tipy-toes, before dropping lightly back down and sayingto the half-orc, "Oh, of course, my feet led me here, aiding by Kavros' directions, it'd be an waste to walk on by."
"You should probably get that set," says Friadoc to the unconscious man, as he walks into the offered door. "If not, you'll have a helluva snore."
The dwarf waited for his foe with some trepidation. "Gods, I should have either drank faster or slower," he groans to himself with a bit of a slur. He gets ready to fight as best he can in his present state.
His dark bushy beard erupts from under his helmet like weeds overgrowing a neglected garden. His hair however is carefully braided with purple cloth and gold wire. The purple surcoat covering his breastplate is stained with ale and food and is a little tight over a bit of a beer gut. He holds his fists up with a casual confidence that suggests he's been in more than a few fights. His right hand bares a tattoo of a broad-headed spear with a wavy haft. He spits on the ground and shakes his head as if to clear it. He takes a proper if somewhat wobbly combat stance. His facial expression changes to something between a grin and a grimace as he says, "Come on, let's do this and get it over with."
Last edited by Scotley; 10th May 2007 at 03:17 PM..
He holds a big axe with a casual confidence that suggests he knows how to use it. His axe hand bares a tattoo of a broad-headed spear with a wavy haft.[/color]
ooc
I suppose I might have mentioned that your axe has been checked at the door. Afterall, the owners of this upstanding establishment wouldn't want any blood on their hands, eh? Looks like Rogash will be doing this one the old-fashioned way. On the upside, you've still got your armor (Gotta have something to protect yourself against all those wandering steins!).
Playfully dropping into a fighting stand, with a sly grin on his face, Friadoc balances on the balls of his feet, briefly pushing up to his tipy-toes, before dropping lightly back down and sayingto the half-orc, "Oh, of course, my feet led me here, aiding by Kavros' directions, it'd be an waste to walk on by."
"You should probably get that set," says Friadoc to the unconscious man, as he walks into the offered door. "If not, you'll have a helluva snore."
The giant half-orc holds the door for the halfling and then walks away behind the bar. He stops and whispers something to the spindly barkeep, and then leads a rather large human into a small room behind the bar.
The barkeep nods, and Friadoc notes his shifty grin and furtive eyes. "Good day," he finally says "Grunk tells me it was Kavros that led you to here, eh? Well, we'll have t'give 'em our thanks for the business. What can I get ya?"
The giant half-orc holds the door for the halfling and then walks away behind the bar. He stops and whispers something to the spindly barkeep, and then leads a rather large human into a small room behind the bar.
The barkeep nods, and Friadoc notes his shifty grin and furtive eyes. "Good day," he finally says "Grunk tells me it was Kavros that led you to here, eh? Well, we'll have t'give 'em our thanks for the business. What can I get ya?"
"Tol' ol' toothless I was looking for some excitement," says Friadoc off-handedly. "And he said this was the place." With a slight shrug, Friadoc orders a pint of ale.
Friadoc corrects himself with a chuckle. "Well, what you big folk call a half-pint."
I suppose I might have mentioned that your axe has been checked at the door. Afterall, the owners of this upstanding establishment wouldn't want any blood on their hands, eh? Looks like Rogash will be doing this one the old-fashioned way. On the upside, you've still got your armor (Gotta have something to protect yourself against all those wandering steins!).
OOC:
Spoiler:
I shall edit my post to reflect the new information.
Rokelsh entered the cage with a small amount of Disdain. This type of combat would not be honourable, he felt it in his bones. The drunken dwarf across the ring hammered the point home as he wobbled forwards. With a Humph, Rokelsh strode forward, looking down at the dwarf who probably wouldn't have been able to reach his face if he jumped. "I apologize for what I must do, sir, but we all need money, no?"
Rokelsh looks around, waiting for a ring bell.
When he hears it (Or if he doesn't hear it and the Dwarf does something), the big man turns swiftly and Barrels his fist into the dwarf's face, following it up by stepping back and kicking the dwarf in the face.
ooc
Couldn't remember if we were supposed to roll for ourselves or not...
Entering combat (Initiative + 3), Two Unarmed strikes: + 10/5, 1d3+4 damage.
AC: 18
The elf sits up slightly, and tries his hardest to get a grip on the reality before him. He could barely remember the fight in the cage, but why was he there? What was the purpose? He didn't think he'd be in it for the enjoyment, but he couldn't be sure. He couldn't remember his own name at the moment. He stood up slowly, still abit wobbly from the pounding he took, but still managed to fall to one knee. The whole world seems to swim before him as he tried to focus his eye sight to become stable. He rose slowly, and walked insecurely towards the door
__________________ I am Method Actor 92% Storyteller 83% Tactician 75% Butt-Kicker 50% Specialist 50% Power Gamer 33% Casual Gamer 33%
And a True Neutral Elf Bard with the stats
Str:5
Dex: 11
Con: 11
Int: 10
Wis: 9
Cha: 7 I must be a really crappy bard then lol
The bartender offers Friadoc a fake smile, and an even more fake laugh, and sets a large mug of ale in front of the halfling. "Excitement ye say?" the man says. He stands up on the tips of his toes to lean across the bar and whisper into Fridoc's ear. "I guess that depends on if yer the bettin' type or the fightin' type."
The halfling is thankful when the man lowers himself back down to his normal size' something about him made his skin crawl. "The looks of ye says yer more of a bettin' type. Not much in size, are ye!" The creepy man's laugh is more than genuine this time. "Tell ye what, if Kavros sent ye, then ye've gotta be all right."
The bartender turns around and pulls on a small metal ring hanging on the wall, impossible to notice for anyone that wasn't looking. A few moments later the giant half-orc appears, seemingly out of nowhere and offers his ear for the barkeep to whisper in.
"Listen," the bartender says when he is done speaking to Grunk. "If it's excitement ye want, Grunk'll show ye. But there be a certain amount of secrecy that goes along with it, if ye know what I mean. If ye can keep a secret, then follow Grunk."
As Friadoc looks up at Grunk standing and waiting, the group's attention shifts back to the entry door as it slams open. The broken-nosed elf stands there, staggering, and looks in your direction.
------------------------
Soveliss manages to get to his feet and head towards the door. He loses his footing on the way and falls into it, causing the door to slam open violently.
The elf manages to stagger into the tavern despite his blunder and looks around at everyone staring at him. Feeling the need to say something to the offended crowd, he stands as erect as he can and exclaims confidently, "Oops."
Finally his eyes rest on the bar, where sits a halfling and a wirly old man. A large ogre-ish thing stands next to them menacingly.
------------------------
Rogash and Rokelsh stand in the cage facing each other. Rokelsh offers his words of apology, and the dwarf barely has time to decipher them before the man's large fist smashes into his face. Rokelsh swings a second time but misses. He can't tell if the dwarf dodged the blow or accidentally staggered out of the way. Rogash swings wildly, completely missing the large human, and Rokelsh is confident it was the latter.
Rogash, more than a little unhappy with the way this is turning out, moves in for another attack. Taking a little more care this time he aims a blow at the foes' midsection. "If I had my axe, I'd fell this oak tree," he says to no one particular.
The dwarf seems to have come out of his drunken trance as he dodges the big man's powerful kicks. He follows with a swing of his right hand, landing squarely into the man's gut, sending a blast of air out of his lungs. [end round 2]
---------------------------
[Round 3]
13 Rokelsh 3/37: attempts to start a grapple (4+9=grab succeeds; grapple check (1+9=10 Rokelsh) vs. (5+7=12 Rogash)=failure)
6 Rogash 6/39: (9+7=miss)
ooc
I decided not to go with the AoO for the grapple, just because I wasn't sure. Turns out it's a moot point anyway, at least for now.
Last edited by industrygothica; 14th May 2007 at 03:08 PM..
Reason: continuity
"Oh, I can keep secrets," says Friadoc simply enough as he stands. Before turning to follow Grunk, Friadoc offers a simple nod towards the elf with the broken nose while making a comment over his shoulder towards the barkeep. "Did you know that one of the most poisonous snakes alive is roughly the length of a human's middle finger?"
"It's so odd how size doesn't always tell you a think," says Friadoc with a half-smile as he turns to follow Grunk. "One moment you under estimate something small and then..." Friadoc snaps the fingers of his left hand. "...you get brought down to size."
"Oh, I can keep secrets," says Friadoc simply enough as he stands. Before turning to follow Grunk, Friadoc offers a simple nod towards the elf with the broken nose while making a comment over his shoulder towards the barkeep. "Did you know that one of the most poisonous snakes alive is roughly the length of a human's middle finger?"
"It's so odd how size doesn't always tell you a think," says Friadoc with a half-smile as he turns to follow Grunk. "One moment you under estimate something small and then..." Friadoc snaps the fingers of his left hand. "...you get brought down to size."
The bartender eyeballs Friadoc curiously as he follows Grunk through the concealed door into the basement. He's not sure if the old man got the joke, but he still feels better having said it.
At the bottom of a short flight of stair is a thick wooden door. Grunk knocks on it, first three times, then twice more, and the door opens. Two large humans guard the other side of the door, and an impressive crowd of drunks are cheering and jeering a hand-to-hand battle going on inside a small cage at the far corner. Friadoc winces as the human's hand smashes into the smaller dwarf's face. When the dwarf comes back with a heavy hand to the human's gut, Friadoc is silently thankful he hadn't gotten involved on that end.
And then something steals his attention.
Perhaps one of the most beautiful human women he's ever seen passes in front of him. She is carrying a tray high above her head with several full musg of ale. Amazingly, she doesn't spill a drop, even after the catcalls and many, many stray hands landing in inappropriate places.
Despite the woman's competent abilities, it is quite obvious to Friadoc that she is not here by choice (sense motive 20+7).
-------------------------------
Ivellious:
The forgetful elf staggers to the bar, but the halflng and the half-orc have disappeared. He looks around for a moment and finally falls onto a stool, obviously confused. He is about to speak to the bartender, who is tryign to stifle a laugh at the elf's expense, when the half-orc appears again, seemingly out of nowhere. He approaches the elf and slams a bundle of equipment down on the bar in front of him.
"You'll be wantin' yer things back, I reckon," grunts the half-orc. He digs into a purse tied to his belt and slaps a few gold pieces on the bar as well. "That's all ye get. Oughtta spend it on a healer n'get that thing fixed." He gestures to the elf's face and then disappears behind the bar again. Ivellious is left open-mouthed, still unsure of exactly what is going on.
ooc: speaking of equipment, I could really use for you to finish your character sheet if you don't mind.
Rokelsh sees the incoming fist and reaches out to grab it, pulling the dwarf in close for a bodyslam.
ooc
Grapple check! Wrasslin time, boyo.
+9 touch attack, +9 Grapple check. Normally it would provoke an AoO, but we're both unarmed, so I think we can't take AoO's, true?
If I dont' succeed with the first, I'll try again. If I do suceed, he takes unarmed damage (1d3+3 as per normal grapple), and I attempt to 'damage' him again via the 'bodyslam' (opposed grapple checks for 1d3+3 damage)
Perhaps one of the most beautiful human women he's ever seen passes in front of him. She is carrying a tray high above her head with several full musg of ale. Amazingly, she doesn't spill a drop, even after the catcalls and many, many stray hands landing in inappropriate places.
Despite the woman's competent abilities, it is quite obvious to Friadoc that she is not here by choice.
oO He should have minded his wind better Oo thinks Friadoc upon seeing the inevitable pain being played out within the 'ring'. However, the halfling's focus is elsewhere, at the moment, as his eyes following the human female.
With a light step, Friadoc follows the woman through the crowd, dealing a stealthy poke in a sensitive or inappropriate place upon any who molest the woman. Once he is able, the monastic wanderer will politely get the young woman's attention.
"Excuse me, miss," says Friadoc with a disarming smile. He does his best to not pose a threat to the young lady "May I ask a favor of you?"
OOC
I've updated Friadoc's appearance, so it can give you an idea of what she sees.
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