Planescape 3.5e - Cold Black Mask

[Shayuri]

(OOC - Hee...I changed her name to Sonata. Music!)

Sonata glances furtively around, but doesn't see the hardheads yet. With a furtive smile, she focuses on the battle again.

Well...why not?

She takes a rather impressively deep breath, holds it for a moment, and then begins to sing. The words are part of an Achereon marching ballad...paced like a heartbeat, with a relentless, inevitable rhythm...but the words are the least of the song. Her voice seems to explode out of her like a thing alive, expanding outward in an invisible wave that breathes color into a world that didn't seem black and white until it hit you. Eddies and gusts of wind flicker and play nearby, as if the air itself were compelled to dance.

"Armies clash and soldiers fall, two steps, two steps...
Cubes crash through it all, keep up, keep up...
Draw your sword! Nock your bow!
Shields high! Javelins throw!
Today we win, or death will follow,
We'll have another war tomorrow..."

Though nothing changes in reality...in the minds-eye, one can almost see the shades of warriors struggling all around, as if the warehouse and its surroundings had become a giant battlefield. Istevan feels strength flood into him, erasing the weariness of a long fight and giving him renewed vigor and confidence!

Still singing, Sonata pulls her crossbow around on its strap so she's holding it, and carefully loads a bolt.

(bardic music as standard, ready crossbow as move, Istevan has +1 to hit and damage now! Yaaaaay! )

 

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

"I don't know anythin' 'bout that imp; just that he was supposed to give us the signal that we were waitin' for. I figured he was just playin' 'astral streaker' for the Dogs; even the most gleamin' pip knows that those knights keep kip with the fiends." for a moment, a sly expression crossed his eyes as he looked to ply a new angle. "Oi, I'd bet my last green that the Black Dogs would have all the chant. You let me do the bolt an' give the Hardheads the laugh before they get here, and I'll spill the dark of how to find 'em."

"Tell me about the Black Dogs. Your freedom is not the only thing at stake here, you realize. There are worse things that imprisonment," Pierce says, rubbing her metallic fingers together thoughtfully, a faint metal-on-metal squealing coming from them.

 

[Cage-Rattler]

István, Sonata:[sblock] ooc: Ambrus, you're right; I forgot István's AoO last round. Here it comes: "Previously, in Round 5..."

...ducking low under his adversary's wild swing, the crystal blade once more caused sparks to fly from the reave's armor. (AC 18 hits; 7 damage before DR.)

As István and the reave whirled apart, each attempting to gauge the state of the other, a clear, strong voice suddenly breaks into song. The reave looks about in bewilderment; István, momentarily imagining himself as being in the midst of an epic battle, takes advantage of his opponent's confusion and lunges hard and fast, his rapier leading the way.

The blade plunges in deep; deeper than even the gnome expected. With some surprise, István realises that he found the gap between the reave's breastplate and heavy belt.

The reave blinks at the gnome, equally surprised -- before he topples to the hard ground with a crash. (Natural 19+11 threatens; 17+11 confirms critical; 9 WP damage, no DR. Hooray for two criticals in subsequent rounds! Hooray for Bard Song's damage boost! )

In the relative silence that follows, shrill whistles can be heard, carried on the night air and approaching quickly.
Status:
István = 13 VP / 12 WP
Reave = Dead or Dying [/sblock]

"There are worse things than imprisonment."

The thug swallowed a little thickly. "Er, right you are, cutter. Now the Dogs, they fancy themselves to be a bunch of high-up coney-catchers and crow-feeders; chant is their top-shelf bashers used to be Blood War mercs. Chant also says they've got a bit of fiendish muscle to back 'em up, too. Don't know if that's all screed or not, myself. They're more than just a bunch o' gleamin' pips, though; they know how to run the cross-trade, and they've been offerin' a gad o' jink for any knight who helps 'em scrag those primes what they've been peery about."

He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Ah, that's where me and my bloods came in. Anyway, the best way to get a hold of the Black Dogs is to pass the word around the Hive's night markets -- it never hurts to drop some garnish, either -- and if they think you're offerin' something worthwhile, one of them'll come to you."

As he speaks, faint shrill whistles can be heard from far off, carried on the night air and approaching quickly. Gerad fidgeted a bit and licked his lips.

"Oi, that'll be the Hardheads, then. So, whaddya say, cutters? Let me give those addle-coves the slip, and I'll put in a good word to the Dogs for ya."

=======================================

"But for now, what do you say to us all gettin' some sleep?"

There was a round of general agreement, and the small group of friends returned to their beds and eventually, sleep. Despite his weariness, Anthony slept fitfully, jerking awake more than once at unremembered nightmares. Each time, though, the waking world was as it should be, and eventually the aasimar managed to pass the rest of the night in undisturbed slumber.

OOC Anthony Orchidaceae:[sblock]We're a little ahead of the other group, and I'll try to speed myself up so you can rejoin each other, if you want to sit tight. If you don't want to sit tight, you're always free to take the initiative in rejoining them, too. [/sblock]

 

[Ambrus]

[sblock=Cage-Rattler, Sonata]Standing over his downed opponent, his bloodied crystal shard in hand, the hooded gnome whips around to scan the area for the source of the mysterious feminine singer. Spotting her, the diminutive humanoid's expression remains unreadable behind his face-concealing scarf as he assesses this latest arrival. Seeing a human woman of unearthly beauty standing before him, and having judged her intentions as being benign if not helpful, the battle-weary wayfarer shakes the blood from his weapon with a trembling hand and returns it to the sheath at his back (move-equivalent action following his last attack during round 16). His chest heaving from the exertion, István tilts his head inquisitively when he hears the sound of whistles being blown; likely those of the arriving city guard. To the woman he offers a humble nod and whispered thanks. "Gestena Ana."

Turning his attention back to the four-armed brute lying on the cold cobblestones, the gnome kneels down and sees about tending to the troll's wounds lest he succumb to them before he can be questioned (round 17, standard action to attempt a Heal check [Heal +1] to stabilize the reave, DC 15).

OOC: István intends to continue to attempt heal checks until successful or the reave dies. Afterwards he intends to drag the injured reave back to the Slumbering Lamb common room.[/sblock]

 

[Shayuri]

[sblock=GM & Ambus]Sonata is indeed a human woman, though her age is hard to determine at first glance. She has a slim, slight build and a broad smile that would be cherubic except for the mischievous edge to it. Her features are elfin, with round cheeks, pert nose, and large green eyes sparkling under a crown of golden yellow hair. She wears a plain white tunic style top over a medium length skirt, but attached to the garment are row after row of colorful bandanas tied in short loops. They make a kind of 'scale mail' effect, making the underlying tunic almost invisible under waves of rippling reds, blues and yellows.

She gives Istevan a nod and says in a slightly musically accented voice, "Fine work there, cutter, but we're short on time. Lets get this sack of tanar'ri offal somewhere out of the way before the hardheads get here."[/sblock]

 

[Ambrus]

[sblock=Cage-Rattler, Sonata]The hooded gnome looks briefly away from his task to regard the woman with the cryptic speech before returning his attention to the bleeding four-armed reave. The diminutive man undoes the buckles of the brute's breastplate so as to better assess his wounds. "It is of little use to move this troll until his bleeding can be brought under control. Besides, it sounds as if the constabulary will arrive at the boarding house up the street soon enough."[/sblock]

 

[Scurry]

Vervain: The shell-shocked patron of the boarding house blinked once at the boldly-dressed gentleman standing before him, then wordlessly pointed across the expanse of the common room, toward the simple wooden staircase leading to the second floor.

Vervain grins widely at the patron, and climbs the stairs with a light step, pursing his lips when he hears the shrill Harmonium whistles.

Rounding the corner, he beholds the interrogation scene, and pulls up short as nonchalantly as possible. Not quite the strangest night ever, no... But close.

He raps the doorjamb twice with his knuckles, aheming softly to redundantly gather attention. "I appreciate that this is a private matter," he says, indicating the spiker and her victim with a wave of his hand, "But I can't help but point out that the Harmonium may take a dim view of matters if this scene is what they arrive to." He amends after a pause, "Dimmer view." The brazen interloper looks remarkably poised and unselfconscious, smiling a little good-natured smile.

 

[Zurai]

Despite his protestations to the contrary, Sindr is interested in listening to Pierce's interrogation of the thug. On the other hand, he is absolutely fascinated by the thug's accent and dialect. "An' I though' my diale'ts were hard t' unnerstan'. I shoul' take notes!" and with that thought, he rummages through his haversack and pulls out some scraps of paper and a nub of charcoal and starts to write. He hardly even looks up when the newcomer makes an entrance, just long enough to verify that he didn't look like a threat.

 

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

The thug swallowed a little thickly. "Er, right you are, cutter. Now the Dogs, they fancy themselves to be a bunch of high-up coney-catchers and crow-feeders; chant is their top-shelf bashers used to be Blood War mercs. Chant also says they've got a bit of fiendish muscle to back 'em up, too. Don't know if that's all screed or not, myself. They're more than just a bunch o' gleamin' pips, though; they know how to run the cross-trade, and they've been offerin' a gad o' jink for any knight who helps 'em scrag those primes what they've been peery about."

He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Ah, that's where me and my bloods came in. Anyway, the best way to get a hold of the Black Dogs is to pass the word around the Hive's night markets -- it never hurts to drop some garnish, either -- and if they think you're offerin' something worthwhile, one of them'll come to you."

As he speaks, faint shrill whistles can be heard from far off, carried on the night air and approaching quickly. Gerad fidgeted a bit and licked his lips.

"Oi, that'll be the Hardheads, then. So, whaddya say, cutters? Let me give those addle-coves the slip, and I'll put in a good word to the Dogs for ya."

Pierce gives him a once over, weighing the information she'd gotten against his fear to determine its truth. It had the ring of veracity, and also gave her a good idea for what she could do to aid her employer... if he still wanted to keep employing her. However...

"The decision is yours," she says to Sindr. "The information seems good. Harmonium justice is very harsh indeed, but applied equally to all. He might only lose his hand or eye instead of his life."

Vervain grins widely at the patron, and climbs the stairs with a light step, pursing his lips when he hears the shrill Harmonium whistles.

Rounding the corner, he beholds the interrogation scene, and pulls up short as nonchalantly as possible. Not quite the strangest night ever, no... But close.

He raps the doorjamb twice with his knuckles, aheming softly to redundantly gather attention. "I appreciate that this is a private matter," he says, indicating the spiker and her victim with a wave of his hand, "But I can't help but point out that the Harmonium may take a dim view of matters if this scene is what they arrive to." He amends after a pause, "Dimmer view." The brazen interloper looks remarkably poised and unselfconscious, smiling a little good-natured smile.

"I don't believe this is any of your affair, stranger" Pierce says coldly, her spikes glinting cruelly as she eyes the newcomer.

OOC: What does Vervain look like?

 

[Shayuri]

[sblock=Cage-Rattler, Sonata]The hooded gnome looks briefly away from his task to regard the woman with the cryptic speech before returning his attention to the bleeding four-armed reave. The diminutive man undoes the buckles of the brute's breastplate so as to better assess his wounds. "It is of little use to move this troll until his bleeding can be brought under control. Besides, it sounds as if the constabulary will arrive at the boarding house up the street soon enough."[/sblock]

[sblock=Ambrus, Cagey-Rattler]Sonata gives a frown that's dangerously close to a pout, then looks up towards the sound of whistles, gauging the distance and how fast they're approaching. She sighs. "Suit yourself then. But before they get here, maybe you can tell me what happened in there. I've been shadowing these berks since they left the Hive. This one was with someone who looked like a Helltooth, and one of the Dogs. Then there was some kind of fracas inside, next thing I know folk are running out, fights on the streets..." Sonata shrugs. "I was hoping to question him, but if you can tell me then I'm just as told."

Though she speaks the cant, it doesn't sound to Istevan like its exactly native. Her speech and diction are more refined, less rushed or slurred than the usual Hive or Ward dweller. Even when she uses words like 'berk' or 'cutter,' it sounds kind of out of place.[/sblock]