I need help from outside of the Athenaeum and you are one of the few people I can turn to. If you can, please meet me at the tavern called the Bilge Rat down at the docks around supper time. I am trying to gather together all the help I can. I will explain there as it is a confidential matter.
Sincerely in Trust
Brother Egil
You each recieved such a letter delivered by a local street runner around noon.
Dogrynn looked up from the drink in his hand to the letter in front of him and nodded slightly. Then looked around, no where better for him to see Brother Egil than right here where he would normally hang out. Perhaps some would consider it sad that a man was drinking in an almost empty bar at noon, Dog just considered it proper after the short run of good luck he'd had recently. The letter mentioned a few people, Dog had always wondered if Egil knew others like him, perhaps now he'd get a chance to find out soon. With little else to do today, Dog sat around in the Bilge Rat chatting up the few patrons as they came in.
It was during one of her infrequent, all-too-short breaks, hiding in an alcove in the kitchen, that Arcata recieved the missive from Egil. Though it was a welcome thought to see him again, she sighed in resignation at the venue.
Working all day at a tavern...now I'm going to another afterward. And a dirtier one than this to boot...
"GWEN!"
The voice of the innkeeper, Ras Palfoot. Her employer. Not a cruel man or a bad one, he just resented the fact that employees expected to be paid, and was constantly making sure that he was getting his money's worth.
In short, break over.
Arcata adjusted her apron and went back out from the little alcove in the kitchen to serve some drinks.
There is the usual afternoon attendees in the Rat as Dogrynn wiles away the time, out of work drunks mostly. Some complain about the orcs the Sea Lord has brought in as cheap labor for his lighthouse project who they blame for taking their jobs and increased crime. Others talk of the ships coming in and due to be sailing out, the Viper's Strike, the Swift Lady, and the Bloody Vengeance. There is a lot of grousing about how everything is going to Hell, not like the old days.
The Bilge Rat is as charming a place as the name suggests, but the beer is better than one would suspect.
Rikki saunters over to Dog (well, his version of a saunter which has more of a random bobbing and weaving quality to it than most) and clamps a bony hand on the sibbecai's shoulder, "Awight, Dog me ol' mucker; whassat yer got there? Looks like a wossname, letter, innit?" he says in a friendly tone.
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Cadfan
This is one of those "Woah, step away from the internet" moments for me, when I realize that I'm talking with people's who's grasp on reality is... lets just say, very different from my own.
Aidan Turandal strides into the Bilge Rat stopping just inside the door. Peering about the room, he locates an empty table that gives him a good view of the door and the bar. Moving over to the table, he grabs a chair that puts most of his back towards a wall, and then motions for the serving wench to bring him a beer.
The beast received the note in the middle of his shift and thus, having developed a strong work ethic from his mentor Brother Egil, placed it in his pocket and continued to work. As it neared supper time his shift had finally ended and he retrieved the note from his pocket and looked it over. Unfortunately his reading skills weren't quite up to par and it took several minutes for him to dicipher it before he could even begin to read it.
Hmmm. So! Brother Egil has need of me. I suppose I can go. His stomach growls and he grimaces at the sound. Perhaps I can get a free supper out of it, too. He smiles and walks the three blocks to the Bilge Rat. Once there he enters and looks around for the good brother.
Heading down through the docks the action there is mesmerizing. There are ships in port from all over the world, carrying every manner of exotic goods. Sailors and merchants of various races and backgrounds mingle on the wharves, with money changing hands so fast you can barely follow. The foreign cadences of transactions conducted in various languages adds to the atmosphere.
The Bilge Rat is not hard to find in the more run down section of the docks. As evening approaches more clientelle appear, predominately dockworkers and down and out sailors. Most of the sailors flush with shore leave wages find other livelier venues. There are pockets of conversation among the patrons of the Bilge Rat but plenty of tables in dark corners for those wishing more solitude to brood over their drinks.
A mean looking man with a scar across his left eye scans the street up and down before pulling the hood of his cloak up and pausing in front of the Bilge Rat's door. As tempting as it was to see if the good Brother would see through this little glamour, Arcata decided to let it slip. The letter had implied more than one person, and for all she knew there really was someone like this among them. Awkward.
The 'man' changed fairly little if viewed from behind. He had been slim as well. The change in body shape was concealed by the cloak, the change to her hair and head by the hood. The chiseled assassin's face though melted into something altogether more comely before she pushed the door open and entered the tavern.
Once inside, she chose an empty table and waited, shoulders hunched a bit and hood still tugged forward to conceal her face. A face too pretty in the wrong place was as much a curse as a monstrous visage, she'd discovered...
The party is scattered about the room when Brother Egil walks through the entrance to the Bilge Rat, his robes, unbound brown hair and short beard marking the friendly young scholar immediately to your eyes. He stops and glances around the room which has filled somewhat more, a grateful smile breaks upon his face as he spies each of you in turn. He looks around over the room again consideringly then waves pointing over to Arcata's table as more sailors enter behind him through the entrance.
Arcata is in a far corner, her hood still up.
Dogrynn is sitting at the bar with another patron and Rikki, the fortune teller trying to get information about his friend's letter.
Aidan is at a side table with a good view of the door, his back mostly to a wall.
GrokCuprim, having not seen his friend when he first came in sat at an empty table. Most of the patrons gave the large copper-scaled orc a wide berth.
Two of the sailors walk right up behind Egil and quickly raise saps which they bring down upon his head with a loud smack, causing the bookish young man to collapse on the bar room floor like a sack of grain.
Another sailor, a toothless man with tattooed knuckles jumps up onto the nearest table and gives a crooked smile shouting out "Ahoy! Ye've all just volunteered for an exciting life at sea. Now, do ye want to go the easy way or te hard way?"
The sailors who entered are a rough looking lot, scarred and crusty looking men with no longer concealed saps in their hands and belaying pins in their sashes or hanging from belts. A half dozen have entered now and it appears there might be more outside.
The man next to Dogrynn shouts in horror "Press gang!" and flings himself off the bench making sure the sword wielding sibeccai is between him and the sailors as he frantically looks around for an exit. There are not many good options, the kitchens and owner's quarters behind the bar, a small window on one of the side walls, stairs leading to a set of rooms upstairs.
Most of the patrons panic and make a rush for the kitchens or the stairs.
Arcata waves at Egil when she sees him and beckons him towards her table, getting up to greet him. The warmth she feels turns to ice when he's attacked from behind! A sudden rage fills her. It's too much. Dispossessed, brothers dead, father probably dead or captured, nation in chaos, conquered...and now her only friend in the world struck down? There was only so much you could take. That much, no more.
"Egil! No!" Mouth curling into a snarl, Arcata strides forward, reaching into the satchel at her side and flinging out a handful of colored sand as she spat, "Kailaide illuminus!"
The sand seemed to erupt into a fierce ghostly riot of colors that played over tables, chairs, and press gang sailors like intense St Elmo's Fire. Pastel shades of red and blue and gold, with streamers of green and purple and white undulating throughout. As dazzling as the display was from outside, it was nothing compared to the assault on the senses that the sailors felt within the cone of the effect.
(Color Spray! 15' cone burst. Moving up to 30' to include as many of them as I can without actually entering a threatened square. Will DC 14 to negate.)
"Drac's balls,"curses Aidan as things swiftly descend into chaos. Jumping to his feet he picks up his chair/stool and hurls it at the pirate on the table.
Rikki saunters over to Dog (well, his version of a saunter which has more of a random bobbing and weaving quality to it than most) and clamps a bony hand on the sibbecai's shoulder, "Awight, Dog me ol' mucker; whassat yer got there? Looks like a wossname, letter, innit?" he says in a friendly tone.
"Oy, Rikki." he says in greeting. "Its from my friend Egil. Says he needs my help. Stick around, if he needs me, I'm sure he will need a few hands."
He stands up as Brother Egil enters ready to move and embrace his friend. As he sees the press gang move in behind though he draws his sword and shield, a growl growing in his throat. He will move to intercept the press gang and to place himself between Egil and the thugs.
"Flippin' 'eck!" exclaims the lanky soothsayer as all hell breaks loose. He fumbles around with some bits and bobs of dried herbs and mutters cryptically, "Nighty-night, maties..." ooc:casts sleep.
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Cadfan
This is one of those "Woah, step away from the internet" moments for me, when I realize that I'm talking with people's who's grasp on reality is... lets just say, very different from my own.
The attached image is a floorplan for the tavern. What looks like a door on the right is actually the only sizeable window.
Dogrynn and Rikki started at the bar, Arcata at a table to the far left near the stairs, Aidan at the table north of her, GrockUprim at a table alone in the middle of the ones to the right side of the central fire pit.
Arcata waves at Egil when she sees him and beckons him towards her table, getting up to greet him. The warmth she feels turns to ice when he's attacked from behind! A sudden rage fills her. It's too much. Dispossessed, brothers dead, father probably dead or captured, nation in chaos, conquered...and now her only friend in the world struck down? There was only so much you could take. That much, no more.
"Egil! No!" Mouth curling into a snarl, Arcata strides forward, reaching into the satchel at her side knowing she was still too far for the magic she planned but ready for the moment she stepped close enough.
A dockworker closest to the sailors leaps up from his chair and dashes frantically towards the back of the room, leaving his slightly slower companion behind at their table.
The toothless man cackles gloatingly to his mates saying "Look at the coneys run." He eyes the hall more carefully and frowns scowlingly as he spies Dogrynn in his armor.
The bald sailor on the left who had sapped Egil rushes over to the slightly slower dockworker still seated near the entrance and gives him a clout to the head with his sap, the man staggers to his feat only to be dropped on the floor as baldy saps him again.
Another patron between Arcata and the gang gets up and takes off for the back, ducking around the fire pit heading to the kitchens shouting for his companion to follow.
Two tattooed sailors (3 and 4) press in to assault the man left behind and sap him, dropping the poor fellow just outside of Arcata's range.
Grockuprim gets up from his table and moves towards the leader and one other sailor with him, closing about half the distance, flexing his clawed hands in anticipation.
"Hsst Churl, over here with this 'ere orc." The man says as Grockuprim approaches him, the second sailor who sapped Egil, one with a big scar across his cheek looks up and nods.
Dogrynn stands up as Brother Egil enters ready to move and embrace his friend. As he sees the press gang move in behind though he draws his sword and shield, a growl growing in his throat as he begins to move to intercept the press gang hoping to place himself between Egil and the thugs before they make off with him. He makes it to about the second row of driftwood chandeliers up the middle from the bar.
The second sailor, Churl moves to intercept Grockuprim and says "Camarada relaxar, nós só precisamos quatro, não estamos aqui para você." orcish
Spoiler:
"Buddy relax, we only need four, we're not here for you."
Another patron runs to place Grocuprim between him and the gang.
"Flippin' 'eck!" exclaims the lanky soothsayer as all hell breaks loose. He fumbles around with some bits and bobs of dried herbs and mutters cryptically, "Nighty-night, maties..." and begins a long incantation.[/quote]
Another patron on the right side leaves a companion to dash for the kitchens and a sailor follows up to sap that companion, who cries out and tries to stagger to his feat only to be dropped to the floor hard with another blow to the back of the head.
"Drac's balls,"curses Aidan as things swiftly descend into chaos. Jumping to his feet he steps away from his bench against the wall and picks up the stool at the end of his table, a possible improvised missile.
Cooling off a bit, Arcata takes a moment to look for the best concentration of press gangers, so she can take as many as possible.
(Moving again, with the above stipulation in mind...I can't tell on the map where people are, so I'll just believe your judgement about where she has to go to affect as many as she can with a 15' cone within 30'. Then apply the special effects from the first post. Sorry...didn't know she was so far back. )
)
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