Dark Days in Sion - Act 2: Scene 5
Burrai Steelborn
Burrai gave the Gnome an absent nod and watched him walk away from the table, vanishing amongst the much larger bodies. The crowd shuffled, as though it were some much larger beast sighing, then closed around him. He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, then turned back to his mug.
Burrai shrugged, then scratched at the scars cascading down from his brow, a livid waterfall he had to peer through. It wasn't Elloral's fault - acquaintances were acquaintances, wherever you were. "There's no offence to be taken," he rumbled. "It's just I believed that time was buried and done with, and now there are two people who know the truth. It's not...comfortable. Perhaps we might need his help anyway if Jabbar reveals something that might require arcane gloves to handle." There wasn't much else to say, and they continued with their meal, both chewing their own thoughts.
Just as they finished, even as the wooden bowls were stacked and hauled away and the first slug of dark earthy ale wetted Burrai's throat, the mood nearby almost palpably shifted. At one table there was an exchange of load voices, the dull thumping of heavy tankards on rough planks, and suddenly an elf stood to his feet, casting down his travelling accoutrements and hoisting his drink overhead. The elf was much like most of his race, all lean, lithe limbs and silken skin; Burrai didn't know if he was tall or short - all elves looked as though they'd been pulled and stretched out of proportion like some demented child toying with a gingerbread man before it went in the oven. His long black hair was braided casually and it hung down over a heavy bow. That gave Burrai a pause - it was a fine weapon.
Burrai rolled his eyes. ~Elves singing mining chanties?~ Some people wouldn't know irony if it caved in on top of them. Burrai returned to his mug. To the elf's credit, he gave Lenore's Toil a fair crack, but it barely registered on him. The change of words in the verse, however, would have been enough to catch his attention, but to hear Avar's name dropped in so casually was like a slap to the sneses. He looked up, straight into Elloral's confused expression, then they both turned to the elf. Clearly he was speaking to them judging by the meaningful stares bookended with sidelong glances tossed into a booth to one side. Burrai turned back to Elloral. "Avar?" She mouthed. Burrai nodded back. As odd as it sounded, there altered lyrics carried the hint off a message. Coupled with the looks, it was apparent: Avar sends word, and there might be danger within Putyuk's.
With a final stumble, a twirl, and a loud "Huzzah!" the elf interposed himself neatly between Burrai and the booth he was so interested in.
"It wouldn't be the first this week. You're a friend of Avar's?" The elf nodded ever so slightly. "Fine. I'm going to leave and head around the back of the inn, just in the lee of the wall. If they follow, follow too." He slammed to his feet and grabbed the front of the elf's shirt, pulling him down to eye level. "If not, meet me there in five minutes. Hopefully, we'll catch them between us and, assuming your skill matches the quality of that bow of yours, we can have a nice chat with them about why we're being watched. Now, brace yourself. This won't hurt much." With a quick shirting of weight, Burrai punched the elf in the stomach, enough to move him backwards, but not enough to hurt. Then he gave him a shove away from their table.
"You keep your drunken words in your tankard elf until you've done a hard days toil in a mine." He barked angrily. "Come on." With Elloral scuttling at his heels he strode outside, ognoring the carousing patrons the elf had stirred from their bored, workmanlike search for inebriation.
Evening had stolen into town, filling the streets with just the faintest hint of a chill. Light from the Inn's door pooled at his feet in a perfect square. Elloral joined him looking nervous, a bundled clutched to her chest - The journal. But there was a steel beneath, as there always had been. "A wise general picks his battlegrounds," he said quietly, turning towards the back of the inn slow enough it would be visible from inside. "And we've both got the choice of the land and the element of surprise." He paused for a moment. "Assuming that elf hasn't played me for a fool."
But Burrai had made his choice now, and the axe and shield a familiar weight on his back had often proved his choices were good ones.
Burrai gave the Gnome an absent nod and watched him walk away from the table, vanishing amongst the much larger bodies. The crowd shuffled, as though it were some much larger beast sighing, then closed around him. He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, then turned back to his mug.
Burrai shrugged, then scratched at the scars cascading down from his brow, a livid waterfall he had to peer through. It wasn't Elloral's fault - acquaintances were acquaintances, wherever you were. "There's no offence to be taken," he rumbled. "It's just I believed that time was buried and done with, and now there are two people who know the truth. It's not...comfortable. Perhaps we might need his help anyway if Jabbar reveals something that might require arcane gloves to handle." There wasn't much else to say, and they continued with their meal, both chewing their own thoughts.
Just as they finished, even as the wooden bowls were stacked and hauled away and the first slug of dark earthy ale wetted Burrai's throat, the mood nearby almost palpably shifted. At one table there was an exchange of load voices, the dull thumping of heavy tankards on rough planks, and suddenly an elf stood to his feet, casting down his travelling accoutrements and hoisting his drink overhead. The elf was much like most of his race, all lean, lithe limbs and silken skin; Burrai didn't know if he was tall or short - all elves looked as though they'd been pulled and stretched out of proportion like some demented child toying with a gingerbread man before it went in the oven. His long black hair was braided casually and it hung down over a heavy bow. That gave Burrai a pause - it was a fine weapon.
Burrai rolled his eyes. ~Elves singing mining chanties?~ Some people wouldn't know irony if it caved in on top of them. Burrai returned to his mug. To the elf's credit, he gave Lenore's Toil a fair crack, but it barely registered on him. The change of words in the verse, however, would have been enough to catch his attention, but to hear Avar's name dropped in so casually was like a slap to the sneses. He looked up, straight into Elloral's confused expression, then they both turned to the elf. Clearly he was speaking to them judging by the meaningful stares bookended with sidelong glances tossed into a booth to one side. Burrai turned back to Elloral. "Avar?" She mouthed. Burrai nodded back. As odd as it sounded, there altered lyrics carried the hint off a message. Coupled with the looks, it was apparent: Avar sends word, and there might be danger within Putyuk's.
With a final stumble, a twirl, and a loud "Huzzah!" the elf interposed himself neatly between Burrai and the booth he was so interested in.
Burrai stared up at him, one eye sharp from within the folds of his scars. It seemed meeting Jabbar wasn't going to be as simple as wine and ale over a hot meal in a private dining room somewhere in Cabarda. The question was, were the cloaked men there for him, or the smuggler.
"It wouldn't be the first this week. You're a friend of Avar's?" The elf nodded ever so slightly. "Fine. I'm going to leave and head around the back of the inn, just in the lee of the wall. If they follow, follow too." He slammed to his feet and grabbed the front of the elf's shirt, pulling him down to eye level. "If not, meet me there in five minutes. Hopefully, we'll catch them between us and, assuming your skill matches the quality of that bow of yours, we can have a nice chat with them about why we're being watched. Now, brace yourself. This won't hurt much." With a quick shirting of weight, Burrai punched the elf in the stomach, enough to move him backwards, but not enough to hurt. Then he gave him a shove away from their table.
"You keep your drunken words in your tankard elf until you've done a hard days toil in a mine." He barked angrily. "Come on." With Elloral scuttling at his heels he strode outside, ognoring the carousing patrons the elf had stirred from their bored, workmanlike search for inebriation.
Evening had stolen into town, filling the streets with just the faintest hint of a chill. Light from the Inn's door pooled at his feet in a perfect square. Elloral joined him looking nervous, a bundled clutched to her chest - The journal. But there was a steel beneath, as there always had been. "A wise general picks his battlegrounds," he said quietly, turning towards the back of the inn slow enough it would be visible from inside. "And we've both got the choice of the land and the element of surprise." He paused for a moment. "Assuming that elf hasn't played me for a fool."
But Burrai had made his choice now, and the axe and shield a familiar weight on his back had often proved his choices were good ones.
|
Fangor the Fierce
First Post
Svexyn and Asusk
Svexyn:
As they near the group, Svexyn feels something welling up in his stomach. Perhaps the food didn't agree with him, as an acidic taste comes to his mouth. He spits to the sandy ground, noting that the result seems to be a very distinct taste. As he glances at the spot on the ground, he spies a slight sizzling of the liquid, causing him to blink a few times.
He had heard of this in his travels. Some Dragon Shamans gained the ability to spew forth a breath weapon in the likeness of their totem dragon. It would seem that with his closeness to the last known location of the long lost Dragon Shaman, it may have awakened and granted him this newfound power. Recalling his recent teachings and how he was to conduct himself, he also realizes that he would have to take a student in and begin their training. Mogan was not likely one to take to the teachings and skills required to adopt to his own beliefs, but Folg was a different story. The little one had the ambition, the right beliefs, and was eager. Svexyn would have to have a talk with him once he returned later this evening. Perhaps their paths had crossed for this very reason..
He wonders what else there is to reveal to him, as he continues walking with Asusk.
"Your friend seems to keep quite an interesting group of company. Seems like my kind of person, having a dwarf, tall human, half-dwarf and even a goblin. Do you know them as well, or will this be a round of introductions that might get confusing?"
It is then that he nears the group, waving in a greeting manner to who he makes out as Ordechai. "Well met, Ordechai. It seems that out paths have intersected due to a mutual acquaintance. My name is Svexyn, a traveler and new to these lands. Would you have time to discuss some private matters."
Before you stands a medium sized human wearing travelers clothing with a hood pulled up. The leather jerkin doesn't hide his chain armor underneath completely to the untrained eye, but it serves his purpose. A spiked chain is wrapped around his torso, adding a bit of auspiciousness to this man, as it is not a well used weapon and perhaps it is just for show. He pulls down his hood, revealing a young face with brown hair and brown eyes.
What you do notice is that for his seemingly non-nondescript frame, his bare arms are knotted with muscles, showing that he's not adverse to either hard work or decent training. He glances to the inn, before adding, "There are prying eyes and over zealous ears that I would rather not hear of our conversation. Partially for my sake, but also for our mutual friend's best interest..."
He turns to face Asusk, adding, "That sums it up, right?"
Svexyn:
As they near the group, Svexyn feels something welling up in his stomach. Perhaps the food didn't agree with him, as an acidic taste comes to his mouth. He spits to the sandy ground, noting that the result seems to be a very distinct taste. As he glances at the spot on the ground, he spies a slight sizzling of the liquid, causing him to blink a few times.
He had heard of this in his travels. Some Dragon Shamans gained the ability to spew forth a breath weapon in the likeness of their totem dragon. It would seem that with his closeness to the last known location of the long lost Dragon Shaman, it may have awakened and granted him this newfound power. Recalling his recent teachings and how he was to conduct himself, he also realizes that he would have to take a student in and begin their training. Mogan was not likely one to take to the teachings and skills required to adopt to his own beliefs, but Folg was a different story. The little one had the ambition, the right beliefs, and was eager. Svexyn would have to have a talk with him once he returned later this evening. Perhaps their paths had crossed for this very reason..
He wonders what else there is to reveal to him, as he continues walking with Asusk.
"Your friend seems to keep quite an interesting group of company. Seems like my kind of person, having a dwarf, tall human, half-dwarf and even a goblin. Do you know them as well, or will this be a round of introductions that might get confusing?"
It is then that he nears the group, waving in a greeting manner to who he makes out as Ordechai. "Well met, Ordechai. It seems that out paths have intersected due to a mutual acquaintance. My name is Svexyn, a traveler and new to these lands. Would you have time to discuss some private matters."
Before you stands a medium sized human wearing travelers clothing with a hood pulled up. The leather jerkin doesn't hide his chain armor underneath completely to the untrained eye, but it serves his purpose. A spiked chain is wrapped around his torso, adding a bit of auspiciousness to this man, as it is not a well used weapon and perhaps it is just for show. He pulls down his hood, revealing a young face with brown hair and brown eyes.
What you do notice is that for his seemingly non-nondescript frame, his bare arms are knotted with muscles, showing that he's not adverse to either hard work or decent training. He glances to the inn, before adding, "There are prying eyes and over zealous ears that I would rather not hear of our conversation. Partially for my sake, but also for our mutual friend's best interest..."
He turns to face Asusk, adding, "That sums it up, right?"
Kryslogious of Anasteria
As the figures approached in the torchlight hailing them with greetings, Kryslogious dropped his torch to the ground. Embers briefly shooting fourth as he raised his large shield and quickly stepping between Svexyn and his group and covering Ordechai behind him. Alic at his side surely ready to engage at the first sign of trouble. Kryslogious and his shield blocked out Ordechai from direct line of sight, his right arm extended waiting to draw a weapon as he peeked from behind the shield. His helm casting a shadow to the face that lie beneath but you can sense the piercing eyes under the slit staring intently at Svexyn.
As the figures approached in the torchlight hailing them with greetings, Kryslogious dropped his torch to the ground. Embers briefly shooting fourth as he raised his large shield and quickly stepping between Svexyn and his group and covering Ordechai behind him. Alic at his side surely ready to engage at the first sign of trouble. Kryslogious and his shield blocked out Ordechai from direct line of sight, his right arm extended waiting to draw a weapon as he peeked from behind the shield. His helm casting a shadow to the face that lie beneath but you can sense the piercing eyes under the slit staring intently at Svexyn.
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narayan
Explorer
Billanverthorne, Burrai, Elloral
Burrai, Elloral
Putyuks is situated thus that it lays beside the southeastern wall, fitted into the corner where one of its many towers juts out beside the corner of Putyuks adjoining house. There is twelve feet of packed earth between the wall and the inn. A stone ditch lies at the base of the wall, interspersed with drainage grates that feed the underground sewers. Putyuks' cooks and table maids periodically empty their slop into those grates leaving a lingering scent of spoiled food in the air. There is also a sharp smell of bile from all the patrons who stumble back here to vomit.
As you step out into the dark to let your darkvision clear from the light of the open doorway you notice there is a lantern beside the backdoor (and Putyuks back door) that are both snuffed out. An instant later you glimpse movement about 15' away. Three cloaked figures lurk against the wall nearer the tower murmuring to each other in low voices. One of them has his hood down while he puffs at an opium pipe revealing a bald head of yellowed skin slashed with scars and marked by tattoos. Another one absently toys with a dagger coated in blade-black to dull reflection off the steel. As you emerge from the inn the three of them stare at you with with culpable distress. One of them mutters something in a strange tongue beneath his breath. "Mā de! Wǒ chōngshí zǎo!"
Elloral: Jabs you in the side with her elbow. -Whispers- "Three more over here!" She says. A glance on your part confirms another three thugs standing against the wall on the other side of the door (also 15' away). One of those three is much heavier than the others, standing an inch shy of six feet weighing close to three hundred pounds of muscle with a big gut.
Hide armor drapes around his shoulders, riveted with rectangular iron plates, which hangs to chest level beneath his cloak. Beneath that he wears an enlarged blackened-chain shirt lashed together with at least two shirts worth of material to fit around his bulk. Strapped around his gut is a large iron plate embossed with a stylized black lion. His forearms and thick legs are also similarly armored with splint mail vanbraces and greaves. His thighs are protected by the lower part of his blackened chain mail skirt that hangs below his waist like an armored skirt.
At this tense moment, the big man slowly reaches up to lower his hood. Each of his fingers bares thick rings of silver, gold and platinum that could easily shatter a mans jaw if he had a mind to put his full weight behind a punch. His eyes are full of menacing confidence as he stares with a slightly raised chin, full of his own arrogance. You can tell from the shape of his eyes and the yellowed complexion of his skin that he is Neferese.
[Burrai: (Fate Pool Knowledge Local, DC 13: = Auto Success since you have enough ranks.) You recognize this man to be the leader of the Black Lion Mercenary company, commonly known as 'Kong'. Kong came to Cabarda with his gang of thugs shortly before Omars death ten years ago. It is rumored Kong was also once a Gladiator, defeated by Omar over twenty years ago in Nefer. However unlike Omar, Kong never earned his freedom through victory. He had to purchase it with a huge sum. Only once do you remember Omar mentioning Kong. He said ~"Kong was strong like a Gorilla, but he was slow. So long as I dodged his attacks and ignored his taunts he quickly tired."~]
Kong's pate is clean shaven and tattooed except for long sideburns, stylized in the way of the orient, that accentuate the thickness of his neck beneath his jaw. Each of his earlobes are pierced with black studs shaped like lions. When he calls out to you his voice holds a tone of ill-intent.
Kong: -Speaking Common- "Burrai Steelborn! I will have words with you!"
[Burrai: What do you do?]
_______________________________________________
Billanverthorne
Howls of laughter erupt around you as the moody dwarf seemingly punches the wind out of you. You stumble for a moment, playing out the moment as Burrai and Elloral make their way out of the common room towards the bar and the adjoining backdoor. Meanwhile the pair of watchers step from their booth and move to follow. The man whispers to the woman. "Go tell Noro we failed, there's going to be a fight!"
The woman nods and bee-lines for the front door. He on the other hand moves to follow the dwarves.
[Billanverthorne: What do you do? If you want to follow either one of them without being noticed you will have to make Hide & Move Silently Checks.]
Burrai, Elloral
Putyuks is situated thus that it lays beside the southeastern wall, fitted into the corner where one of its many towers juts out beside the corner of Putyuks adjoining house. There is twelve feet of packed earth between the wall and the inn. A stone ditch lies at the base of the wall, interspersed with drainage grates that feed the underground sewers. Putyuks' cooks and table maids periodically empty their slop into those grates leaving a lingering scent of spoiled food in the air. There is also a sharp smell of bile from all the patrons who stumble back here to vomit.
As you step out into the dark to let your darkvision clear from the light of the open doorway you notice there is a lantern beside the backdoor (and Putyuks back door) that are both snuffed out. An instant later you glimpse movement about 15' away. Three cloaked figures lurk against the wall nearer the tower murmuring to each other in low voices. One of them has his hood down while he puffs at an opium pipe revealing a bald head of yellowed skin slashed with scars and marked by tattoos. Another one absently toys with a dagger coated in blade-black to dull reflection off the steel. As you emerge from the inn the three of them stare at you with with culpable distress. One of them mutters something in a strange tongue beneath his breath. "Mā de! Wǒ chōngshí zǎo!"
Elloral: Jabs you in the side with her elbow. -Whispers- "Three more over here!" She says. A glance on your part confirms another three thugs standing against the wall on the other side of the door (also 15' away). One of those three is much heavier than the others, standing an inch shy of six feet weighing close to three hundred pounds of muscle with a big gut.
Hide armor drapes around his shoulders, riveted with rectangular iron plates, which hangs to chest level beneath his cloak. Beneath that he wears an enlarged blackened-chain shirt lashed together with at least two shirts worth of material to fit around his bulk. Strapped around his gut is a large iron plate embossed with a stylized black lion. His forearms and thick legs are also similarly armored with splint mail vanbraces and greaves. His thighs are protected by the lower part of his blackened chain mail skirt that hangs below his waist like an armored skirt.
At this tense moment, the big man slowly reaches up to lower his hood. Each of his fingers bares thick rings of silver, gold and platinum that could easily shatter a mans jaw if he had a mind to put his full weight behind a punch. His eyes are full of menacing confidence as he stares with a slightly raised chin, full of his own arrogance. You can tell from the shape of his eyes and the yellowed complexion of his skin that he is Neferese.
[Burrai: (Fate Pool Knowledge Local, DC 13: = Auto Success since you have enough ranks.) You recognize this man to be the leader of the Black Lion Mercenary company, commonly known as 'Kong'. Kong came to Cabarda with his gang of thugs shortly before Omars death ten years ago. It is rumored Kong was also once a Gladiator, defeated by Omar over twenty years ago in Nefer. However unlike Omar, Kong never earned his freedom through victory. He had to purchase it with a huge sum. Only once do you remember Omar mentioning Kong. He said ~"Kong was strong like a Gorilla, but he was slow. So long as I dodged his attacks and ignored his taunts he quickly tired."~]
Kong's pate is clean shaven and tattooed except for long sideburns, stylized in the way of the orient, that accentuate the thickness of his neck beneath his jaw. Each of his earlobes are pierced with black studs shaped like lions. When he calls out to you his voice holds a tone of ill-intent.
Kong: -Speaking Common- "Burrai Steelborn! I will have words with you!"
[Burrai: What do you do?]
_______________________________________________
Billanverthorne
Howls of laughter erupt around you as the moody dwarf seemingly punches the wind out of you. You stumble for a moment, playing out the moment as Burrai and Elloral make their way out of the common room towards the bar and the adjoining backdoor. Meanwhile the pair of watchers step from their booth and move to follow. The man whispers to the woman. "Go tell Noro we failed, there's going to be a fight!"
The woman nods and bee-lines for the front door. He on the other hand moves to follow the dwarves.
[Billanverthorne: What do you do? If you want to follow either one of them without being noticed you will have to make Hide & Move Silently Checks.]
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97mg
Explorer
Wrenwil
~Who would have guessed? An Inn in the middle of nowhere, and with a name like that I'm assuming nobody gets any sleep around here.~
It had been a long walk but the old Cleric still had plenty of gusto left in him, and at least with night came a brief refrain from the baking heat of day. Unlike the earlier stage of his journey, he had companions now, a mixed bag of unlikely strangers striking a path together. In normal circumstances he would have stayed away from this kind of gathering, but strangely, out here, it felt safer... almost good to be one of them.
As the torches approached Wrenwil cringed, and then again when the youngling revealed himself and his unusual chains. ~Kiinky and clinky eh?~ Then though, this stranger started addressing Ordechai on a first name basis in a friendly tone. ~Phew.~
Standing at the rear in the torchlight as the knight "did his thing", Wrenwil wondered what he must look like in the flickering flames. He still needed a shave, that was for sure, a week of grey growth was now protruding from his chin. He'd been copping a fair bit of sunlight too, causing his once pale skin to burn a touch. The tops of his hands were peeling, as was an annoying spot on the back of his neck. He stood there firm in his humble linen clothes, a sweaty layer of leather beneath, and took his ragged woolen hat off for a moment and wiped his brow. As always, he was holding his walking-stick and had a bloody great pack on his back. This alone might have been the tell-tale sign, that this elderly human's body was far from giving up the ghost. Beneath it all he seemed to be lean, agile and hard as iron.
As instructed by Ordechai, Wrenwil kept his eyes peeled and his mouth shut... for now.
~Who would have guessed? An Inn in the middle of nowhere, and with a name like that I'm assuming nobody gets any sleep around here.~
It had been a long walk but the old Cleric still had plenty of gusto left in him, and at least with night came a brief refrain from the baking heat of day. Unlike the earlier stage of his journey, he had companions now, a mixed bag of unlikely strangers striking a path together. In normal circumstances he would have stayed away from this kind of gathering, but strangely, out here, it felt safer... almost good to be one of them.
As the torches approached Wrenwil cringed, and then again when the youngling revealed himself and his unusual chains. ~Kiinky and clinky eh?~ Then though, this stranger started addressing Ordechai on a first name basis in a friendly tone. ~Phew.~
Standing at the rear in the torchlight as the knight "did his thing", Wrenwil wondered what he must look like in the flickering flames. He still needed a shave, that was for sure, a week of grey growth was now protruding from his chin. He'd been copping a fair bit of sunlight too, causing his once pale skin to burn a touch. The tops of his hands were peeling, as was an annoying spot on the back of his neck. He stood there firm in his humble linen clothes, a sweaty layer of leather beneath, and took his ragged woolen hat off for a moment and wiped his brow. As always, he was holding his walking-stick and had a bloody great pack on his back. This alone might have been the tell-tale sign, that this elderly human's body was far from giving up the ghost. Beneath it all he seemed to be lean, agile and hard as iron.
As instructed by Ordechai, Wrenwil kept his eyes peeled and his mouth shut... for now.
Tellerian Hawke
Defender of Oerth
Billanverthorne: An Unexpected Turn of Events...
~Failed? Failed to do what? A Fight? Against whom?~ All of the following thoughts rush through Bill's head instantaneously, like a huge, mental, tidal wave.
~If they were part of a larger ambush, both would have followed to cut off escape from the rear. If one of them is running off to report, then their mission must simply have been one of observation and reporting. If this one is following Burrai, and he expects a fight, then he obviously intends to observe, not to partake. It is obvious from his tone that he did not want a fight.~
Bill weighs his options mentally for the briefest of moments. ~If he is not part of the ambush, and there is a fight, whomever it is that Burrai encounters may attack the watcher as well, if they spot him. Does he intend to aid Burrai? Or does he hope to observe unseen?~
Bill stands up and begins to move toward the front door, making no effort to hide his actions. "Why is everyone around here so moody? Can't anyone take a joke? I need some air..." ~Wait, does he expect ME to pick a fight with Burrai?~
Bill puts that last thought out of his head, as he moves quickly, with purposeful intent, toward the front door; anyone in his way will be shoved aside.
Once Bill is outside, he will pause for a moment, waving at the porch that is 20 yards distant, where Jabbar and Avar are crouched, hiding. He allows them a second or two to notice him before gesturing at the woman sprinting away down the street (indicating she is a person of interest) before sprinting around the western side of the Inn. He stops at the corner so that he can peer around it and look at the Inn's back alley without being noticed. [Hide roll = 22.]
[If I am correct as to layout, I should be a respectable distance, perhaps 45 feet, from where Burrai and his companion emerged.]
When Bill notices the six thugs against the wall, instinct takes over. ~The game has changed. Whomever these 6 are, whether they're with the watchers or not, their intentions are clear. Burrai will die if I do not ACT!~
Mr. Bigmouth, who is apparently the leader, is about to get shot from behind. Bill is hoping that a shot from the far corner will give him the element of surprise.
(Bill's intention: shoot Mr. Bigmouth from behind, twice. Initiative roll = 16.)
(First shot, base, without flat-footed or surprise modifiers, which are the DM's prerogative: Hits AC 20. Hit location: Skull, fort save or stunned.)
(Second shot, base [Rapid Shot]: Hits AC 14. Hit location: Right hand. Drop item on failed reflex save.)
(If the first shot really did hit, damage = 9. If second shot really did hit, damage = 9.)
~Failed? Failed to do what? A Fight? Against whom?~ All of the following thoughts rush through Bill's head instantaneously, like a huge, mental, tidal wave.
~If they were part of a larger ambush, both would have followed to cut off escape from the rear. If one of them is running off to report, then their mission must simply have been one of observation and reporting. If this one is following Burrai, and he expects a fight, then he obviously intends to observe, not to partake. It is obvious from his tone that he did not want a fight.~
Bill weighs his options mentally for the briefest of moments. ~If he is not part of the ambush, and there is a fight, whomever it is that Burrai encounters may attack the watcher as well, if they spot him. Does he intend to aid Burrai? Or does he hope to observe unseen?~
Bill stands up and begins to move toward the front door, making no effort to hide his actions. "Why is everyone around here so moody? Can't anyone take a joke? I need some air..." ~Wait, does he expect ME to pick a fight with Burrai?~
Bill puts that last thought out of his head, as he moves quickly, with purposeful intent, toward the front door; anyone in his way will be shoved aside.
Once Bill is outside, he will pause for a moment, waving at the porch that is 20 yards distant, where Jabbar and Avar are crouched, hiding. He allows them a second or two to notice him before gesturing at the woman sprinting away down the street (indicating she is a person of interest) before sprinting around the western side of the Inn. He stops at the corner so that he can peer around it and look at the Inn's back alley without being noticed. [Hide roll = 22.]
[If I am correct as to layout, I should be a respectable distance, perhaps 45 feet, from where Burrai and his companion emerged.]
When Bill notices the six thugs against the wall, instinct takes over. ~The game has changed. Whomever these 6 are, whether they're with the watchers or not, their intentions are clear. Burrai will die if I do not ACT!~
Mr. Bigmouth, who is apparently the leader, is about to get shot from behind. Bill is hoping that a shot from the far corner will give him the element of surprise.
(Bill's intention: shoot Mr. Bigmouth from behind, twice. Initiative roll = 16.)
(First shot, base, without flat-footed or surprise modifiers, which are the DM's prerogative: Hits AC 20. Hit location: Skull, fort save or stunned.)
(Second shot, base [Rapid Shot]: Hits AC 14. Hit location: Right hand. Drop item on failed reflex save.)
(If the first shot really did hit, damage = 9. If second shot really did hit, damage = 9.)
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Burrai Steelborn
Elloral whispered in his ear as the ambush coalesced out of the night like a rock out of fog. Burrai stopped, set his feet. The tactical part of his mind struggled to put together two conflicting facts: Two people watching in the inn, likely waiting for an opportune moment to accost him; A group camped outside waiting for him to leave. He struggled to make them fit - the only things he came up with was either that they weren't interested in him, or they weren't of the same plans.
Then the vast, conspicuous form of 'Kong' lurched forward, bedecked with Black Lion emblems and armour. This was an interesting development...
"Whatever happens," he whispered to Elloral. "Don't let them get the journal. If it all comes apart, run. Burn it if you must. But the evil it contains must stay within those pages."
Burrai rolled his neck slowly, popping and cracking. He flexed his hands, ready to pull free his shield and axe in a heartbeat. It was a trick most seasoned warrior's knew - how to stay taut as a bowstring, poised on the very edge of violence, while all the while appearing calm and serene - The surface of a still pond the moment before the pike struck.
"'Words', Kong?" He answered, sneering. The air was thick with malevolance. "You mean to tell me you know more than one? I'm impressed? School must be working well for you at last." He loosed his vision a little so the dark shapes arranged about him were a little clearer. He'd need to keep their positions in mind if he had to rush Kong. Maybe time enough for a strike or two before circling the huge man and veering -
....And that's when the arrows lanced the night.
[Initiative Roll = 8]
Elloral whispered in his ear as the ambush coalesced out of the night like a rock out of fog. Burrai stopped, set his feet. The tactical part of his mind struggled to put together two conflicting facts: Two people watching in the inn, likely waiting for an opportune moment to accost him; A group camped outside waiting for him to leave. He struggled to make them fit - the only things he came up with was either that they weren't interested in him, or they weren't of the same plans.
Then the vast, conspicuous form of 'Kong' lurched forward, bedecked with Black Lion emblems and armour. This was an interesting development...
"Whatever happens," he whispered to Elloral. "Don't let them get the journal. If it all comes apart, run. Burn it if you must. But the evil it contains must stay within those pages."
Burrai rolled his neck slowly, popping and cracking. He flexed his hands, ready to pull free his shield and axe in a heartbeat. It was a trick most seasoned warrior's knew - how to stay taut as a bowstring, poised on the very edge of violence, while all the while appearing calm and serene - The surface of a still pond the moment before the pike struck.
"'Words', Kong?" He answered, sneering. The air was thick with malevolance. "You mean to tell me you know more than one? I'm impressed? School must be working well for you at last." He loosed his vision a little so the dark shapes arranged about him were a little clearer. He'd need to keep their positions in mind if he had to rush Kong. Maybe time enough for a strike or two before circling the huge man and veering -
....And that's when the arrows lanced the night.
[Initiative Roll = 8]
narayan
Explorer
Alic, Asusk, Bax, Kryslogious, Ordechai, Svexyn, Wrenwil
Asusk: Shakes his head. "I have never seen the others, Ordechai usually does not travel with such company." He peers a bit closer at the dwarf beside the armored warrior. "If I'm not mistaken, that may be the sigil of the Stonebones clan on that dwarfs shield. They hail from Belandrao mountain in the Kingdom of Barossa across the river to the east."
__________________________________________________
Alic: Readies his shield defensively along with Kryslogious as the two strangers approach from the dark, raising his torch and eyeing the pair suspiciously. After Svexyn speaks he calls back to Ordechai, never letting his eyes off them. "Do you know these men?"
Alic is young for a dwarf with a strong build, standing 4'4" about 170 lbs. He is black of hair and wears his beard plain, no braids, no beads, and trims it shorter along his jaw. His eyes are dark brown. Over his shoulders he wears a billowy travel cloak of brownish fabric with a hood. Strapped to his arm is a circular heavy steel shield bearing the painted symbol of a skull made of rock with veins of silver and gold spider-ed through it and a diamond clenched between the teeth. The sigil of clan Stonebones.
Over his broad torso Alic wears a chain-shirt and wears no holy symbol or rings, but he does bear a tattoo of Moradins hammer and anvil on the back of each hand beneath his vanbraces. He also has greaves strapped to his shins over his boots. For weapons he carries a dagger, hand axe, battleaxe and a MW Heavy Crossbow.
Ordechai steps closer giving Svexyn a better look at him as well. He is clearly a half-dwarf, or 'mule', standing about 5'6" weighing approximately 220 lbs with a thick build draped in a lightweight, threadbare, heavily stained travel cloak that would conceal his form and his features quite well until he lowers his hood. He is clean-shaven with several days worth of stubble on his face, but what is most notable about his appearance is his missing left hand and left eye!
The whole left side of his face is ruined by a horrible burns deep enough to reveal raw cheekbone. His hair is coarse, black and heavily tangled draping loose over his temples to the tops of his shoulders. His ruined eye socket is covered by a strip of cloth wrapped around his forehead, while his right eye is bright blue, suggesting he probably has Barossan blood in his veins.
Beneath the cloak he wears a heavily soiled longs leeve tunic and trousers. But at the end of his left arm, Instead of a hand, he has a bent iron fork attached to a cup fitted over the stump of his left forearm. For weapons he carries a buckler-axe over his left forearm and a throwing hammer tucked into his belt along with a dagger.
Asusk removes the wrappings around his face that are part of desert robes and speaks.
Asusk: -Speaking Akhenaten- "Odd to see you in such company old friend!"
Ordechai: Smiles and puts a hand on Kryslogious arm, signaling he can stand down and answers Alic. -Speaking Common- "I know this one! It is Asusk, the hunter."
Alic: Eyes Asusk without much friendliness. He clearly has no love of Half-Orcs.
Ordechai: Looks to Svexyn. -Speaking Common- "I take it you wish to avoid the inn to discuss these private matters?"
Asusk: Interjects. -Switches to common- "He says so because of me. I was nearly killed by a Barossan Duelist outside the inn earlier. Svexyn offered to burry me for a fee, and managed to bring me back to life after he dragged me away. In exchange I have agreed to help him investigate the Quresh, but for the time being it is too dangerous for me to show my face in there."
Ordechai: Looks closer at Svexyn with his one good eye. "Thank you for saving Asusk. He was always too foolhardy for his own good!" He chides. "Is that your camp over there?" He asks gesturing to where you walked from. As you nod he says. "My hogs need feed and water. The rest of us are also quite weary from our long walk. Unless you say the inn is too dangerous for the rest of us, I propose to return to your camp after we have a chance to resupply and refresh ourselves. Is that agreeable?" He asks.
[Kryslogious, Svexyn, Wrenwil: What do you do?]
Svexyn said:
Asusk: Shakes his head. "I have never seen the others, Ordechai usually does not travel with such company." He peers a bit closer at the dwarf beside the armored warrior. "If I'm not mistaken, that may be the sigil of the Stonebones clan on that dwarfs shield. They hail from Belandrao mountain in the Kingdom of Barossa across the river to the east."
__________________________________________________
Alic: Readies his shield defensively along with Kryslogious as the two strangers approach from the dark, raising his torch and eyeing the pair suspiciously. After Svexyn speaks he calls back to Ordechai, never letting his eyes off them. "Do you know these men?"
Alic is young for a dwarf with a strong build, standing 4'4" about 170 lbs. He is black of hair and wears his beard plain, no braids, no beads, and trims it shorter along his jaw. His eyes are dark brown. Over his shoulders he wears a billowy travel cloak of brownish fabric with a hood. Strapped to his arm is a circular heavy steel shield bearing the painted symbol of a skull made of rock with veins of silver and gold spider-ed through it and a diamond clenched between the teeth. The sigil of clan Stonebones.
Over his broad torso Alic wears a chain-shirt and wears no holy symbol or rings, but he does bear a tattoo of Moradins hammer and anvil on the back of each hand beneath his vanbraces. He also has greaves strapped to his shins over his boots. For weapons he carries a dagger, hand axe, battleaxe and a MW Heavy Crossbow.
Ordechai steps closer giving Svexyn a better look at him as well. He is clearly a half-dwarf, or 'mule', standing about 5'6" weighing approximately 220 lbs with a thick build draped in a lightweight, threadbare, heavily stained travel cloak that would conceal his form and his features quite well until he lowers his hood. He is clean-shaven with several days worth of stubble on his face, but what is most notable about his appearance is his missing left hand and left eye!
The whole left side of his face is ruined by a horrible burns deep enough to reveal raw cheekbone. His hair is coarse, black and heavily tangled draping loose over his temples to the tops of his shoulders. His ruined eye socket is covered by a strip of cloth wrapped around his forehead, while his right eye is bright blue, suggesting he probably has Barossan blood in his veins.
Beneath the cloak he wears a heavily soiled longs leeve tunic and trousers. But at the end of his left arm, Instead of a hand, he has a bent iron fork attached to a cup fitted over the stump of his left forearm. For weapons he carries a buckler-axe over his left forearm and a throwing hammer tucked into his belt along with a dagger.
Asusk removes the wrappings around his face that are part of desert robes and speaks.
Asusk: -Speaking Akhenaten- "Odd to see you in such company old friend!"
Ordechai: Smiles and puts a hand on Kryslogious arm, signaling he can stand down and answers Alic. -Speaking Common- "I know this one! It is Asusk, the hunter."
Alic: Eyes Asusk without much friendliness. He clearly has no love of Half-Orcs.
Ordechai: Looks to Svexyn. -Speaking Common- "I take it you wish to avoid the inn to discuss these private matters?"
Asusk: Interjects. -Switches to common- "He says so because of me. I was nearly killed by a Barossan Duelist outside the inn earlier. Svexyn offered to burry me for a fee, and managed to bring me back to life after he dragged me away. In exchange I have agreed to help him investigate the Quresh, but for the time being it is too dangerous for me to show my face in there."
Ordechai: Looks closer at Svexyn with his one good eye. "Thank you for saving Asusk. He was always too foolhardy for his own good!" He chides. "Is that your camp over there?" He asks gesturing to where you walked from. As you nod he says. "My hogs need feed and water. The rest of us are also quite weary from our long walk. Unless you say the inn is too dangerous for the rest of us, I propose to return to your camp after we have a chance to resupply and refresh ourselves. Is that agreeable?" He asks.
[Kryslogious, Svexyn, Wrenwil: What do you do?]
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Fangor the Fierce
First Post
Svexyn and Asusk
Svexyn:
Svexyn notes the armored mute and the old man, both keeping quiet and not saying a word. The dwarf does speak though, and having Asusk around to be able to see such details in this night does help. Yet, the whole group seems on edge. Perhaps everyone in this land was either a killer or simply harsh in nature. As Ordechai seems to diffuse the tin man's threatening stance, Svexyn allows himself to relax his own nerves. Hopefully this one had sense enough to show a little civility.
As Ordechai shows himself, Svexyn can only wonder just what type of life this one has lived. It must have been one tough circumstance after another, to have such wounds as well as having such a status in life as to gain the respect of a half-orc.
"Asusk the Hunter? That's an interesting notion. Perhaps his skills will be put to the test soon enough." Svexyn leaves the comment as is, before shaking his head in disbelief.
"Tonight has been most interesting. Yes, that is my camp with the two tents. When you see fit to, we will be waiting. For now, I think Asusk will be gathering his own gear and relocating to the area as well. And don't mind the kobold or half-dwarf; they are both with me. We have much to talk about, if Asusk is right about this place. And be careful of Drasus, the one that attempted to skewer your friend. He's upstairs, so steer away from there. Tamas can provide you with the gear you need. Just ask for Gedeon, he'll point you in the right direction."
Svexyn then turns to Asusk, asking, "If you want me to accompany you to your tent to gather your stuff, I can help. Otherwise, I will meet you back at the camp. And be careful, should you decide to go it alone.."
Svexyn:
Svexyn notes the armored mute and the old man, both keeping quiet and not saying a word. The dwarf does speak though, and having Asusk around to be able to see such details in this night does help. Yet, the whole group seems on edge. Perhaps everyone in this land was either a killer or simply harsh in nature. As Ordechai seems to diffuse the tin man's threatening stance, Svexyn allows himself to relax his own nerves. Hopefully this one had sense enough to show a little civility.
As Ordechai shows himself, Svexyn can only wonder just what type of life this one has lived. It must have been one tough circumstance after another, to have such wounds as well as having such a status in life as to gain the respect of a half-orc.
"Asusk the Hunter? That's an interesting notion. Perhaps his skills will be put to the test soon enough." Svexyn leaves the comment as is, before shaking his head in disbelief.
"Tonight has been most interesting. Yes, that is my camp with the two tents. When you see fit to, we will be waiting. For now, I think Asusk will be gathering his own gear and relocating to the area as well. And don't mind the kobold or half-dwarf; they are both with me. We have much to talk about, if Asusk is right about this place. And be careful of Drasus, the one that attempted to skewer your friend. He's upstairs, so steer away from there. Tamas can provide you with the gear you need. Just ask for Gedeon, he'll point you in the right direction."
Svexyn then turns to Asusk, asking, "If you want me to accompany you to your tent to gather your stuff, I can help. Otherwise, I will meet you back at the camp. And be careful, should you decide to go it alone.."
